CHAPTER XVI.
On the morning of the fourth day from the night of the robbery we returned to Fern Bank. As yet we had obtained no tidings of Blurdon, and it was believed that he had at once gone off up country, bribing and frightening the natives to conceal him in their cottages during the day, and travelling on in any fashion that presented itself during the night. On the evening of our coming home, however, uncle brought us back an account that was at once as dreadful as it was unexpected.
All who have lived at the Cape know that even in the daytime, and to those well-acquainted with the geography of the Table Mountain, it is extremely unsafe to attempt to cross it while enveloped in mist, as in many parts the ground breaks off precipitately to a depth of some hundreds of feet; and these chasms or precipices, concealed by the clouds, have often proved graves to the ignorant and incautious. It was therefore with imminent peril that Blurdon endeavoured on that dark night to make his way over the mountain to the town. Nor did he escape the consequences of his wickedness and folly, for the furious wind that swept across the country made it still more difficult for him to find a way, and he fell over a height upon a bed of rocks, breaking his leg and arm and otherwise injuring himself.
Poor creature! Notwithstanding his ruffianly character, many a heart felt for him when his case was known. There he had lain for some time undiscovered on the rocks, alone and unaided in his agony. On the following evening, some negroes, taking advantage of the return of calm weather, were hunting on the mountain side for land crabs, and to their surprise and terror came upon the scarcely conscious form of the robber, whom one of them instantly recognized. With a compassionate care and gentleness which in the days of his strength he would have scorned, they conveyed him to the hospital, where he was immediately attended to.
Uncle went there as soon as he heard of the circumstance, to satisfy himself that this was really the man who had robbed us, and he found that the doctors had succeeded in restoring him to consciousness, but not in reducing the inflammation and swelling in the fractured leg and arm. It was feared that amputation of one or both limbs would be inevitable, and the long-delayed care of his wounds had brought on symptoms that threatened even his life. Some of his ribs also were broken, on the same side with the arm and leg, and his head was frightfully bruised and cut. "Altogether," said uncle, "he presented the most deplorable appearance of any human being I have ever seen in my life."
"Did he remember you, uncle? Did he say anything?" questioned Charlotte.
"Yes, I think he remembered me. He opened his feverish eyes upon me as if he did, but said nothing."
"Poor, wretched creature!" aunt exclaimed. "I trust he may not die. When you see him again, dear, which I hope will be soon, pray take the first opportunity to tell him how sincerely I feel for him, how deeply I regret the dreadful sufferings he has brought upon himself, and that, should it please the Almighty to spare his life, I shall not forget the promise I made him—nothing of the past will, by my means, be brought up against him."