O'er Many Lands, on Many Seas

“I think we were pleased also to escape an encounter that would certainly have ended in disaster.

“The wind fell about sunset, then oars were got out, and, laden as we were, it was a stiffish pull. All in the dark too, until eight o’clock, when the moon rose, half hidden at first by a bank of greyish clouds, which she soon surmounted, and then shone out with a splendour that you only see in one part of the world.”

“And that,” said I, interrupting him, “is the Indian Ocean.”

“True, Nie, true,” said Roberts.

“We were among islands now, some bare and level, others wooded, a few with lofty cocoa-palms.

“We had just landed on one of the latter, because owing to the cocoa-nut trees there would be, as you know, Nie, a few natives, and we expected a bit of hot supper. We had drawn our boat well up on the sandy beach of a little cove, hidden by some scraggy bushes when —

“‘Look, look!’ cried our purser’s clerk.

“All eyes were directed seaward.

“Two great dhows stealing out to sea! They were off in the same direction that we were going, and from the cut of their sails we could tell they were pirates, that is Arab fighting slavers.

“‘I say, Mr Roberts,’ said the middy, ‘I wouldn’t tackle those, would you?’

“‘We’d never see England again if we did,’ I replied.

“‘Well,’ said the boy, ‘I’m precious hungry, aren’t you, Mr Roberts?’

“‘I could do with a pick,’ I replied.

“Then young Leigh gave his orders like a prince.

“‘Bear a hand, lads,’ he cried, ‘and get supper; gather sticks, light a fire, on with the pot; some of you run to the village and bring half a dozen fowls. Cut up the bacon. Did you bring the onions? Smith, if you’ve forgotten the onions, I’ll have you flogged.’

“‘Then I won’t be flogged,’ said Smith.

“Well, Nie, the remembrance of that stew, that cock-a-leekie soup, made gipsy-fashion in that lonely island of the ocean, makes me truly hungry to think of even now.”

“Shall I get you a ham sandwich, Roberts?” I asked provokingly.

“A ham sandwich!” he cried, “What! sawdust and paint, and the memory of that stew hovering round one like the odours of Araby the Blest? Don’t insult me, Nie. I tell you, boy, that a hungry man might have been content to dine off the steam. There!

“Well, we had a good long rest after supper.”

“You needed it, I should think,” I said, laughing.

“None o’ your sauce,” said the old captain. “We rested, and smoked our pipes, and looked on the sea. Oh! to see the moonlight dancing on the rippling waves!”

“I can easily imagine it, because I’ve often seen the like myself,” I replied.

“It was late that night when we got to Chaksee. The ship was in behind the rocks so snug that we thought at first she wasn’t there.

“All on board were glad to see us, including Nie himself.”

“How old would I be then, Roberts?”

“About five. The Niobe, it seems, was ordered down to the Cape to refit; all her crew were to return to England, but, as you know, I preferred to stop in the old ship with the new crew. I’m like the cats, I don’t like to move.

“The captain and I had a long talk. He treated me just as if I’d been a commissioned officer. He told me he had found a whole nest of pirates, that he had given one fits a day or two before, and meant to pepper the others soon if he had a chance. They were over there, he said, pointing to the African coast, and he would have them.

“The commander of the Niobe, indeed, was in high glee. He had been ordered home, he said, but he would wait for those piratical scoundrels and old Zareppa if it were a month. Then, surely, if he destroyed him and his ships his country would, in some way or other, requite his good services, and either promote him or give him a better command.

“We lay snug behind the rocks at Chaksee for two whole days. Our top-gallant masts were down, and no one in passing the island could have told there was a vessel there at all.

“On a hill, not far off, two men were kept always on the outlook.

“On the morning of the third day the signalmen left their posts and hurried towards the ship.

“Three large piratical dhows, carrying the blood-red flag of the Arab nation, were bearing down towards the island. They turned out to be the very same we’d seen two nights before, in company with another and much larger one.

“We determined not to frighten them off by coming out too soon. We didn’t know then that these fellows rather courted fight than otherwise.

“All sails were loosened and at last we got clear, took up the boats that had been heading us, lifted sails, and stood out to meet them.

“Every man was at his post. The marines lying down on deck under arms, the bluejackets, stripped to the trousers, standing by the guns on both decks. There was a glorious breeze blowing. Oh! Nie, lad, it was just the morning for a fight. My old blood dances in my veins yet at the very thoughts of it.

“I must say that those Arabs managed their little craft beautifully. The largest one was the first to advance, and the first to receive and return our fire. She had even the daring and pluck to fire at us.”

“Did she succeed?”

“She did, alas! and she poured a broadside into us that made our upper deck like shambles. Meanwhile the other two dhows were at us, on us almost, for we were sometimes fighting gun to gun, and we had to fight on both sides of our vessel at once.

“The commander of the Niobe wanted all his wits about him, for it was a trying time.

“We had one advantage over the pirates, namely, our marines.

“The pirates had muskets, it is true, but either they were very bad ones, or they couldn’t use them properly, one or the other.

“We stationed our marines in the tops and rigging, and every shot told home, every bullet got its billet.

“There were times during the fight when all the combatants seemed to pause. It was as if the ships were taking breath, but in reality we stopped to allow the smoke of battle to clear away, for our ship was surrounded, so to speak, and all our gear was hanging anyhow.

“The impetuosity of the attack of Arabs fighting at sea is very similar to the way in which they charge on terra firma; it is furious while it lasts.

“It lasts as long as hope promises brightly, when it goes it goes at once, and, except in the case of fanatics in a religious war, there is a wild stampede. Victory for a time hung in the balance, then it seemed to sway to the side of the enemy, because the Niobe became for a time unmanageable.

“It was a trying time to the nerves of the bravest of us. There would be small mercy accorded to those among our poor fellows who happened to fall into Zareppa’s bands.

“The commander held a hurried consultation with his first lieutenant, at which I was present. It was over in two minutes; in ten minutes more, during which time the battle raged with unabated fury, we had all the sails set which the few hands that could be spared were able to clap on her, and were clearing sheer away from the scene of action, steering as close to the wind as possible. And the Niobe could luff too, I can tell you.

“Shots tore through our rigging as we fled, or seemed to fly, and derisive jeers and cheers, worse by far than bullets, were fired after us, till we were out of earshot, out of reach. We replied not either by shot or shout. We drew the big dhow after us – and that was all we wanted – as near as she could come. We even let her gain on us, and her shots began to tell again. Then all sail was clapped on, and next —

“‘Ready about,’ was the cry.

“Ah! Nie, my boy, it was a beautiful sight, and a supreme moment.

“We thundered down on that devoted pirate. She never even divined our intention. We might overwhelm her perhaps, she thought. She prepared to out-manoeuvre us. Then all seemed to become confusion on board her. Mind, she was over-manned to begin with, her rigging too was badly damaged, and her decks hampered with her dead and dying.

“In a minute more we had hurtled into her. We actually cut her in two; she sank before our eyes, almost before we could sheer off.”

At this part of his yarn, poor old Captain Roberts stopped. I feel sure he was thinking of that dreadful scene; that, long ago though it was, he saw again that blood-stained ship sinking beneath the waves, with its living freight, many of them innocent slaves.

He filled his pipe before he resumed.

“Ah, well! poor misguided wretches, to do them justice they died bravely, and cheered wildly as they sank beneath the billows.”

“And so,” I said; “Zareppa escaped even yet.”

“Yes, it was a plucky thing. He swum out from the wreck ere she sank, and one of the dhows ran up even under our guns, and picked him out of the water.

“Then both got clear away.”

Chapter Five

“Like mountain cat that guards its young.Full at Fitz-James’s throat he sprung.”Scott.“He watched me like a lion’s whelp,That gnaws and yet may break its chain.”Byron.

“Ben Roberts, dear old friend,” I said, as soon as the captain had finished. “I remember that sea-fight which you have just so graphically described.”

“And pray,” said he, “what and how much of it could you remember, seeing you were down below, and were so well used to guns thundering over your baby head, that you often went to sleep during general quarters? Now, just you tell me.”

“Well,” I replied, “I suppose it must have been the collision at the conclusion, for I was knocked all of a heap off the chair, and the Ay-ay and I threw ourselves into each other’s arms and wept.”

“Yes, lad, and I found you, when I went down to my cabin, in each other’s arms, and both fast asleep.”

I myself, dear reader, must now resume the thread of my narrative, from the place where Captain Roberts gives it up.

When the crew of the Niobe returned to their native land from the Cape, and the new crew joined, I remained with my foster-father – my dear old sea-dad.

From the Cape we sailed straight to Bombay, it being found that the old Niobe would require to go into dry dock.

I remember being dazzled with all I saw in Bombay, except those terrible Towers of Silence, on which the dead bodies of the Parsees are exposed to be devoured by birds. What I think struck me most was the gorgeous dresses of the natives, and the enormous amount of gold and silver ornaments they wore about them; bangles, and bracelets, and jewelled noselets, and ear-rings as big as cymbals, or the brass plates that barbers hang out in front of their doors. If I wondered at the natives, the natives wondered at me – the piccaninny sailor-boy, as they called me – for I was now dressed out quite like a man-o’-war’s man.

From Bombay we returned to our cruising ground, which was at that time called the Cape station, and stretched all along the entire east coast of Africa, from the Cape to the Red Sea, including not only Madagascar with its circlet of tiny islets, but Mozambique, the Comoro Islands, and Seychelles as well. Were I to tell you all my adventures on these shores, I should have no space to devote to sketches probably quite as interesting.

Let me come then as speedily as I may to the one great event of my life: my capture by that arch-fiend Zareppa, and my treatment while a prisoner for ten long years in the wildest part of the interior of Africa.

As soon as we reached Zanzibar, I being then of the ripe age of six years, the captain called me aft, and Roberts the boatswain came along with me.

“My man,” said the captain to me, “You are six now, and it is high time you were rated.”

I began to cry. A rating I thought meant a flogging, and I had seen poor fellows tied up over and over again and flogged until the blood gushed out of their backs.

“It is nothing,” said the kindly captain; “I’m going to make a man of you.”

“Oh!” I said, and wiped my eyes.

“But,” continued the captain laughing, “We’ll make a second-class boy of you first.”

Roberts laughed now.

“I’ll teach him sir,” he said, saluting the captain, “to splice and reef and steer.”

“Well, away you go,” said the captain, “and see, my little man, that you do all you are told.”

I touched my forelock, and went away forward with the good boatswain; so proud that I’m sure I didn’t feel my feet touching the deck.

My education had begun long before; it continued now, and I hope I did my duty.

For the next four years we had plenty of chasing of ships, plenty of cruising, plenty of jollity and fun, both on shore and afloat, and now and then a pitched battle.

We had never seen Zareppa again, but we had often and often heard of him. We knew that he was in the habit of marching into the interior upon peaceful negro villages lying about the Equator, burning them, and capturing the inhabitants as slaves.

Oh! boys at home, if you but knew the horrors of the slave trade; if you could but realise even a tithe of the misery and wretchedness and fearful crimes included in that one word “slavery,” as applied to Africa alone, you would not deem yourself entitled to the proud name of British boy, until you had registered a vow to do all that may ever lie in your power, be that little or be it much, by deeds or by words alone, to wipe out the curse.

Had you seen what I have seen of it, had you sojourned where I have sojourned, you would have witnessed deeds that would harrow your mind to think of even till your dying day.

My life on board the Niobe was altogether a very pleasant one; the best part of it was the long glorious cruises we used to have in open boats. Fancy, if you can, going away in a well-found boat, away from your ship entirely for, perhaps, a month or six weeks at a time, in the glorious summer weather, with the blue sky above, the blue sea below, and hardly ever more wind than sufficed to cool and fan you, and to raise the sea into a gentle ripple. We cruised along the coast, we cooked our food on shore – and oh! what jolly “spreads” they used to be, what soups, what stews! – we cruised along the coast, and we sailed or pulled up rivers, and into many a lovely wooded creek, going everywhere, in fact, where there was a chance of capturing a slaver, or of making a prize. When the slave ships ran we chased them, when they fired on us we fought them, and they were always beaten. They might win a race, but never a battle. We were some fifty men strong; we never stopped, therefore, for an invitation to go on board; we went, sword or cutlass in hand, and they were bound to give way.

But to me, I think, the glad sense of being away from the ship and of leading a free and roving life, was the greatest part of the pleasure, and I used to be so sorry when we bore up at last for the rendezvous where we were to meet our ship.

That, then, was the bright side of the picture of my life in these glad old days. And I must confess that it really had not a dark one, although sadness used to steal over my heart, when letters came from what others called home – England.

Home! To me the word had no other meaning except the wide ocean, and yet when I saw others reading their letters with such joy depicted on every countenance, well – it was very foolish of me, no doubt – but I used to steal away into some quiet corner, and weep.

“Now, my lad,” cried Roberts to me one day. “Get that twopenny-ha’penny cutlass of yours out, and prepare to go on shore. We’re going up country to fight those rascally Arabs. We are going to storm Zareppa’s own stronghold.”

“Hurrah!” I shouted; “And you will really take me with you, Mr Roberts?”

“That I will, lad; and you’re not your father’s son unless you know how to behave yourself in presence of a foe.”

I said nothing; but at that moment I almost thought that Roberts instigated an act on my part, which followed some days after this. Had he not mentioned Zareppa and my father in two consecutive sentences – my father and my father’s slayer?

“Oh!” I said inwardly, “could I but meet the man face to face!” What a childish thought, you will say, for a mere stripling, with a twopenny-ha’penny cutlass! The cutlass, by the way, was a middy’s dirk, of which I felt very proud indeed.

The boats were called away. The expedition against the Arab stronghold was going to be “a big thing,” as Roberts said, so every man that could be spared from the ship joined it.

Our guide was poor Sweeba. This negro had but one thought in life; namely, to avenge the murder of his family. I’m afraid that revenge is a very human though an improper feeling; and it is easy enough to understand, without attempting to justify, Sweeba’s thirst for vengeance. I hope that I myself shall never forget that Bible text which says —

“Vengeance is Mine, I will repay.”

The utmost caution was necessary in passing up through the forest and jungle, for we were surrounded by enemies on all sides. However, we made forced marches in silence and all by night, and in three days’ time, being favoured by fortune, we arrived in front of Zareppa’s stronghold, and within two miles of the place. We lay closely hidden till daybreak, a good two hours, sending Sweeba forward to scout. He returned shortly with the intelligence that the Arabs were in great force, and had both camels and cavalry, and that they had also thrown up a strong earthwork on the hill around their position.

Before sunrise we were ready; a mere band we were, but a brave one, about one hundred and twenty in all, bluejackets and marines. Ere the sun had mounted over the forest land we were close upon Zareppa’s position, and in the darkness our fellows had even cut out a company of war and baggage camels. It was here that the fighting first began, but taken by surprise, the camel-drivers, after a faint show of resistance, fled hurriedly up towards the fort.

It was now daylight, but the beams of the sun were sadly shorn by the smoke that arose from the fort as a tremendous volley was fired to check our advance. Under cover of this volley down thundered the foe to the charge. But little more than two hundred yards intervened between the fort and our fellows. Yet many a horse lost its rider, many a brave and stately Arab bit the dust, ere the enemy reached us.

I cannot describe what followed. No one can give an account of anything save his own experience in a fight like this. The enemy fought with terrible courage. Again and again were they foiled, again and again did they return to the charge with redoubled determination. They leaped on our very bayonets, over their own wounded, and their dead and dying fell together in heaps. But all in vain. Zareppa at last, despairing of success, withdrew his daring followers.

“Now, lads,” cried our commander, “follow me into the fort. They have shown us how Arabs fight; we will now show them what true Britons can do. Hurrah!”

The wild “Deen! deen!” of the Arab is nothing in strength of volume to the stern British “Hurrah!” It is a war-cry that has struck terror into the hearts of foemen on every land on which the sun shines. It is a war-cry that means business. It meant business to-day, as our fellows dashed up that hill and entered the fort. Then the fighting commenced in deadly earnest; the Arabs had leaped from their chargers, which were held in readiness in the rear, and fought with swords only, even their spears being for a time discarded. Our fellows fought with sword, with bayonet, or with butt-end, and men fell fast on both sides.

Only once during this fight Roberts was near me, but then his good sword saved me from a fearful cut. “Back to the rear, boy,” I heard him yell; “you’re too young for this work.”

But, look! yonder is the chief, yonder is Zareppa. Though I had never seen him before, an instinct seemed to tell me that that was the man who had slain my father. I flew at him – foolishly enough, no doubt – flew at him as if I had been a wild cat. I clutched his belt and raised my arm to strike. He bore me to the ground by a blow from his sword-hilt. He seemed to scorn to fight with such as I.

Next moment he himself was down. Sweeba had felled him, but was, in his turn, cut down almost immediately. On the ground I grappled again with the pirate chief. It seems all like a dream now, but I have little doubt my agility saved me, and enabled me to make such good use of my dirk that Zareppa never rose again.

Years after this I knew we had gained this fight, but now, as for me, I was taken prisoner, bound hand and foot, and carried into the interior. After the death of their chief, the Arabs had fought only long enough to secure possession of the boy who had killed their leader. This done, they mounted and fled.

I was, it would seem, reserved for the torture. But the king of a warlike tribe fancied the boy for a white slave, and the cupidity of the Arabs overcame their love even for vengeance – I was sold into slavery.

Then began a long, dreary march into the interior. It is only fair to say, however, that from the commencement King Otakooma was not unkind to me. He ordered my wrists to be untied, and I was set free – such freedom as it was, for with a mob of savages around me I dared not attempt to escape. Indeed, I cared little now what became of me, and for the first few days I refused all food. Then nature asserted herself, and I ate greedily of the fruit that grew plentifully everywhere in the country through which we were passing.

I had pulled what appeared to me a most delicious-looking large berry, when suddenly I heard our chief shriek.

“Oa eeah wa ka!” and at the same moment the fruit was dashed from my hand ere I could convey it to my lips. I knew from this it was poison. Then the chief called me towards him, and placed me on the grass, and put before me a plate of boiled paddy (a kind of rice) and a bright glittering dagger. I knew what he meant, and chose the paddy. Then the king laughed till his fat sides shook again. He was a sort of half-caste Arab, I suppose, and yellow, not black. Perhaps his colour made him king, for his followers were very black, tall, wiry, and savage-looking.

The king on the other hand simply looked good-humouredly idiotic, but I found out afterwards that he could be both cruel and fierce, and though not a cannibal, he was addicted to human sacrifices. Piles of skulls adorned his palace grounds. He built them up like rockeries, and flowers actually grew on them, although they had never been planted.

As soon as I had eaten the rice, he patted my cheek and asked me, through a boy interpreter, if I would have some rum. I refused; upon which a cocoa-nut half full and the dagger were again placed before me.

I drank the rum, and I learned a lesson; and whenever afterwards the king asked me to do anything that I had scruples at performing, I pretended to be exceedingly eager to do it – and thus got off.

Our adventures on our journey inland were many and varied. Under other circumstances I should have enjoyed them, but every mile west was taking me away from all I held dear in the world, so no wonder my heart sank within me and that I loathed the savages, loathed the fat old king, and even the boy interpreter, although he was the only one with whom I could converse.

Jooma was his name, and he turned out no friend to me. He entertained me from the first with terrible stories about the cruelties of the tribe I was going amongst, tales that made me long for death and my very blood run cold.

Then I thought of the poison berry, and was strangely tempted to eat a few. Thank Heaven, I did not give way to the fearful temptation! It is an awful thing for a human soul to hurry unbidden into the presence of its Maker.

One adventure thrilled me at first with delight, afterwards with grief. We met and attacked a caravan of English travellers. I was bound to a horse and strictly guarded, at a distance from the scene of action. I do not know what occurred, but from the exultant looks of the savages on their return, and from the blood-stained booty they brought with them, I feared the worst.

Another adventure I remember was a night attack on our camp by a rhinoceros. The savages fled before the infuriated brute more speedily than they would have done before a human foe.

But my experience, gained since then, is that rhinoceroses are not as a rule dangerous animals, although a great many marvellous stories are told about them, usually travellers’ tales.

Sometimes the hill and the jungle gave place to wide marsh lands, through which the cattle were driven first, the horses following, and last of all the foolish old king on his litter, with his rum bottle beside him.