“How?” I asked.
“When you made terms with Captain Sharpe you could have stipulated that he should take me away and give the others up.”
Now, this was another proof of how these men, who were ready to mutiny at any moment, were equally ready to sacrifice their friends to save themselves. Paul cared not a jot for the fate of Berghen and the others, so long as his escape had been provided for.
“Paul,” I replied, “when I made terms with Captain Sharpe we were fugitives hiding for our lives. Through your treachery we had to fly to the mountains, and watch our valley and town being destroyed. Is it likely that any thoughts of mercy would find room in my heart just then? Did you attempt to rescue me when Berghen had us confined and guarded?”
Here Paul broke down, and confessed the plot to murder us which I have already detailed.
“I deserve nothing but death, Diedrich,” he concluded, “but, at least, I can say that neither when you were surprised, nor during the attack on the camp, did I raise my hand against you or Zolca’s people.”
This I believed, for I knew well that Paul was brave enough, but yet I had seen nothing of him whilst the skirmishing was going on.
We sat long talking, but I had few words with which to comfort him. I knew his doom was sealed, and he accepted the fact.
I left him towards the middle of the night, and his wife went back to keep him company. He had hinted several times that I should assist him to escape to the bush, but I refused to listen. Not to save Paul’s life ten times over would I be guilty of such treachery to Zolca, my brother.
Paul was tried in a large open space in the centre of the town, all the inhabitants being present, grouped round in a circle. I had to preside, as none of the others knew anything about such a mode of procedure. Retribution amongst uncivilized races is short and sharp, without any pretence at trial.