CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.
Morgan and I had more than one long talk that next day about theSpaniards and the pusillanimous way in which they had behaved; but notuntil a good deal had been done to make our tent comfortable, and thatin which poor Sarah was lying, mending fast, but still very weak. Agreat deal too had to be done for the wounded, who bore their sufferingswith wonderful patience, and were delighted when I went and sat withthem, and talked over the different phases of the fight.
Morgan was sentry once more in the afternoon, and after seeing my fathercomfortably asleep, I went across to him, where he was keeping a sharplook-out for the Indians; but so far there had been no sign, and webegan talking about the wounded, and how long it would be before theywere stirring again.
"Ah, a long time, sir," he said. "You can make a man weak with a shotor a cut with a sword. It's done in a moment, but it takes months tomake one strong."
"I say, Morgan," I whispered, "don't you think the General ought to havea place dug and made for that powder?"
He turned sharply and looked me full in the eyes, but instead ofanswering my question, he said--
"You see, Master George, they were regularly cheated over us."
"Who were--the Indians?"
"The Indians? No; the Spanish."
"He will not talk about the powder business," I said to myself. "Healways turns it off."
"You see, sir," he continued, as he softly rubbed the barrel of hispiece to get rid of some of the rust that had encrusted it, "theyexpected to find us a set of quiet spade-and-hoe-and-wheelbarrow sort ofpeople, quite different to them, as are looked upon as being so warlikeand fierce."
"And so we are, Morgan."
"And so we are, lad. We came out here to dig and live, and be at peace,with our barrows; but that doesn't mean that we haven't got the fightingstuff in us, ready for use when it's wanted. I don't want to fight, andI save my fists for digging, but they are fists all the same, sir."
"Yes, of course."
"Yes, of course, sir. But they Spanish didn't understand that. Theythought that in spite of what was said last time they came, all they hadto do was to make a show, and order us off, and we should go; so theymade a show by shooting at the Indians; and I'll be bound to say thatevery time the Spanish officers cried `fire!' they thought they werefrightening us too."
"But they didn't, Morgan."
"Not a bit, sir. Wrong stuff. They made a great big mistake, and whenthey get back to Flori--what is it?"
"Florida."
"Ah, Florida, I should say there'll be a good bit o' trouble, for theywere meant to do more than they contrived. You see, when they fired,the Indians ran, and they followed them up, and fired again, and theIndians ran faster. Then by and by they came and fired at us."
"And we did not run, Morgan."
"No, sir, not a bit; and as somebody had to run--one side must, yousee--why, they did. You see we didn't look nice. We'd been at it, lookyou, and got the marks of battle on us to show that we could dosomething, and it was rather startling to men coming on to attack aplace. First beginning of fighting one feels a bit squeamish; afterthat one don't. We'd got over our squeamishness; they hadn't, for Idon't count their bit of firing as anything. Think they'll come back,sir?"
"If they do, it will be with a war-ship, and great guns," I said. "Notas they did this time."
"Then I don't think they'll come at all, sir, for bringing a war-shipmeans big business, and our having war-ships too to keep them off. Doyou know, I begin to think that we shall have a holiday now, so as to goback home."
Day after day glided by, and in the rest and relief it seemed as ifquite a new life was opening out for us. My father was mending rapidly,and Sarah was well enough to insist upon busying herself about manylittle matters to add to our comfort. Hannibal only seemed to me to bedull and quiet, while Pomp was at me every day about going outsomewhere, and looked as if he were a prisoner chained by the leg whentold that he must not stray from camp.
There had been repeated discussions, so my father told me, over theall-important question of giving up our watchful life, and beginningonce more to take to that of peace; but it was still deemed advisable towait, and another week glided away, made memorable by the deaths of twoof the brave fellows who had been wounded.
It was the evening after the last of these two had been sadly laid inhis resting-place, that Morgan startled me by saying suddenly--
"He's only a black, certainly, Master George, but somehow one's got tolike him."
"Why, what has Pomp been doing now?" I said.
"I was talking about his father, sir."
"Hannibal? Well, what of him? I haven't seen him to-day--no; now Icome to think of it, nor yesterday neither."
"No; he hasn't been up."
"Why, Morgan," I said, "I was out round the plantations yesterday withColonel Preston, and I've been with my father and Sarah all to-day; ispoor old Hannibal ill?"
"Very bad, I think, sir. I asked the doctor to go and see him."
I ran off to the rough tent he and Pomp had contrived for themselves,and to my horror I found the doctor inside, and that my father hadcontrived to get there by the help of a couple of sticks.
"I didn't know Han was ill," I exclaimed.
"Hush! Don't speak loud," said the doctor. "The poor fellow is in aserious condition."
I crept into the hut to find Pomp on his knees by his father's head, andwith his face buried in his hands, while a startled feeling came over meas I saw how still and helpless the great broad-shouldered giant lay,his brow wrinkled up, and his cheeks hollow; but his countenance changedas he caught sight of me.
"Mass' George," he said, and he tried to raise one of his hands.
"Oh, Hannibal!" I cried. "I did not know you were so ill. Pomp, whydidn't you tell me?"
The boy raised his face all wet with tears, and his eyes swollen. "HowPomp know?" he cried. "Fader nebber tell um."
"Don't talk, Hannibal, my man," said my father, gently. "We none of usknew, my boy. The poor fellow was wounded, and has been going about allthis time with an arrow-head in his side, saying nothing, but patientlybearing it all. My poor brave fellow," he continued, taking the man'shand, "you have always been risking your life in our defence."
"Han belong to Mass' Capen," he said, feebly, as he smiled at us. "Ifarrow not hit um, hit massa."
"What!" said my father, eagerly, as if he suddenly recollectedsomething; "was it that night when you dragged me back, as the arrowsflew so fast?"
Hannibal smiled, and clung to the hand which held his.
"Yes; I remember now feeling you start," said my father. "Yes--what isit?"
He leaned over the rough bed that had been made for the wounded man, forthe black's lips moved.
"Massa do somefin for Han?" he said.
"My poor fellow, only speak," said my father, who was much moved, whileI felt choking.
"If Han die, massa be kind to Pomp?"
"No," cried the boy, with a passionate burst of grief, "Pomp die too."
"And Massa George be good to um."
"Oh, Han," I cried, in a broken voice, as I knelt on the opposite sideto my father, and held the poor fellow's other hand.
He looked keenly in both our faces, and though neither of us spoke, hewas satisfied, and half closed his eyes.
"Han sleep now," he said.
Just then the doctor bent in at the opening of the tent, and signed tous to come out, and we obeyed.
"Let him sleep, boy," he whispered to Pomp. "Don't speak to him, but ifhe asks for anything fetch me."
Pomp nodded; he could not answer, and we accompanied the doctor to hisrough tent only a few yards away.
"Well?" he said to me as I caught his hand, and questioned him with myeyes. "Do you mean can I save him? I don't know; but I do know this--if it had been a white his case would have been hopeless. The poorfellow must have been in agony; but I have extracted the arrow-head, andthese blacks have a const
itution that is wonderful. He may recover."
"Please God!" I said to myself, as I walked right away to try and getsomewhere quite alone to sit down and think. For I was beginning towaken to the fact of how much I cared for the great kind-hearted,patient fellow, who had all along devoted his life to our service, andin the most utter self-denial offered that life in defence of ours.
Ever since the departure of the Spaniards I had slept soundly, but thatnight I passed on my knees by poor old Hannibal's pillow.
It was a strange experience, for the poor fellow was delirious, andtalked rapidly in a low tone. His thoughts had evidently gone back tohis own land and other scenes, but I could not comprehend a word.
Pomp was there too, silent and watchful, and he whispered to me abouthow the doctor had cut his father's side, and it took all my powers ofpersuasion and insistence, upon its being right, to make the boy believethat it was to do the wounded man good.
"If Mass' George say um good," he said at last, "Pomp b'leeve um. Oh,Pomp poor fader. Pomp die too," he sobbed.
"He shan't die," I cried, passionately. "Don't talk like that."
There was silence for a time, and then the poor fellow began to mutteragain.
"What does he say?" I whispered; but the boy broke down, buried hisface in his hands, and sobbed. But after a time, in broken tones, hetold me that his father was talking about dying down in the hold of thestifling ship, and about being brought ashore.
"Dat all Pomp hear," whispered the boy. "Talk 'tuff. Done know what."
It was a long, long, weary night, but towards morning the poor fellowslept peacefully, and soon after daylight the doctor was there, asindefatigable in his attentions as he had been over my father, for thecolour of a man's skin did not trouble him.
"Less fever," he said to me. "I've got a nurse for him now, so you goand get some sleep."
I was about to protest, but just then I saw who the nurse was, for Sarahstooped down to enter the shelter, and I knew that poor old Hannibalwould be safe with her.
Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah Page 54