After much debate, two of the Sambos, including the head man, pushed off to us in a canoe, under the cover of the weapons of those on shore. They, however, fell back in evident alarm when they caught sight of my revolver. I therefore laid it down, extended both open hands, and hailed them with the Mosquito salutation, which applies equally at all hours of the day and night, “Good morning!” They replied, with the universal drawl, “Mornin’, sir!” I put my “king paper” forward, very conspicuously, and read it through to them, no doubt to their edification. The head man said, “Good! good!” when I had finished, but nevertheless seemed suspicious of the contents of our boat, inquiring, in a broken way, for “Osnabergs,” and “pauda,” or powder. I explained to them, as well as I could, that we were not traders, which piece of information did not seem to please them. But when they caught sight of my demijohn, they evinced more amiability, which I hastened to heighten by giving them a calabash of the contents.
They afterward signified their willingness to let me go ashore, if I would first give them my gun and revolver, which I sternly and peremptorily refused to do. They finally paddled to the shore, motioning for us to follow. Upon landing, I gave them each a dram, which was swallowed in a breath, with unequivocal signs of relish. The head men, after another ineffectual attempt to induce me to surrender my revolver, led the way up the bank, Antonio and the Poyer boy remaining with the canoe.
VILLAGE OF QUAMWATLA.
The village was very straggling and squalid, although the position was one of great beauty. It stood on the edge of an extensive savannah, covered thickly with coarse grass, and dotted over with little clusters of bushes, and clumps of dark pines, more resembling a rich park, laid out with consummate skill, than a scene on a wild and unknown shore, under the tropics. As we advanced, I observed that the huts were all comparatively new, and that there were many burnt spots, marked by charred posts and half-burned thatch-poles. Among the rubbish, in one or two places, I noticed fragments of earthenware of European manufacture, and pieces of copper sheathing, evidently from some vessel.
I was conducted to the head man’s hut, where room was made for me to sit down on one of the crickeries. Some kind of fermented drink was brought for me, which I had great difficulty in declining. In fact, I did not like the general aspect of things. In the first place, there were no women visible, and then the ugly customers with the guns and spears, when not scrutinizing me or my revolver—which seemed to have a strange fascination in their eyes—were engaged in a very sinister kind of consultation.
The head man seemed particularly anxious to know my destination, and the purposes of my visit. My suspicions had been roused, and I represented myself as a little in advance of a large party from the Cape, bound down the coast, and inquired, in return, what land of accommodations could be provided for my companions when they arrived. This rather disconcerted him, and I thought the opportunity favorable to fall back to the boat, now fully convinced that some kind of treachery was meditated. A movement was made to intercept me at the door, but the presented muzzle of my revolver opened the way in an instant, and I walked slowly down to the landing, the armed men following, and calling out angrily, “Mer’ka man! Mer’ka man!” Antonio stood at the top of the bank, with my gun, his face wearing an anxious expression. He whispered to me hurriedly, in Spanish, that half a dozen armed men had gone down the creek in a boat, and that he had no doubt the intention was to attack us.
In fact the cowardly wretches were now brandishing their weapons, and uttering savage shouts. I at once saw that there was but one avenue of escape open, namely, to take to our boat, and get away as fast as possible. I waited until my companions had taken their places, and then walked down the bank deliberately, and entered the canoe. A few rapid strokes of the paddles carried us well clear of the shore, before the Sambos reached the top of the bank. I brought my gun to bear upon them, determined to fire the instant they should manifest any overt act of hostility. They seemed to comprehend this, and contented themselves with running after us, along the bank, shouting “Mer’ka man!” and pointing their weapons at us, through the openings in the bushes.
We were not long in getting beyond their reach, but they nevertheless kept up loud, taunting shouts, while we were within hearing. I counted this a lucky escape from the village, but was not at my ease about the party which had gone down the creek. I felt sure that they were in ambush in some of the dark recesses of the banks, and that we might be attacked at any moment. Both Antonio and myself, therefore, sat down in the bottom of the canoe, closely watching the shores, while the Poyer boy paddled noiselessly in the stern. It was now near night, and the shadows gathered so darkly over the narrow stream that we could see nothing distinctly. On we went, stealthily and watchfully. We had reached the darkest covert on the creek, a short distance above its junction with the river, when a large canoe shot from the bank across our bows, with the evident purpose of intercepting us. At the same instant a flight of arrows whizzed past us, one or two striking in the canoe, while the others spattered the water close by. I at once commenced firing my revolver, while Antonio, seizing the long manitee-spear, sprang to the bow. At the same instant our canoe struck the opposing boat, as the saying is, “head on,” crushing in its rotten sides, and swamping it in a moment. Antonio gave a wild shout of triumph, driving his spear at the struggling wretches, some of whom endeavored to save themselves by climbing into our canoe. I heard the dull tchug of the lance as it struck the body of one of the victims, and, with a sickening sensation, cried to the Poyer, who had also seized a lance to join in the slaughter, to resume his paddle. He did so, and in a few seconds we were clear of the scene of our encounter, and gliding away in the darkness. I caught a glimpse of the struggling figures clinging to their shattered boat, and uttering the wildest cries of alarm and distress. The quick ear of Antonio caught responsive shouts, and it soon became evident that we had been followed by boats from the village.