“Not if I rejoin the British. What if I set you and the other Europeans free! Would you obtain a pardon?”
Dick emphatically shook his head, for he mistrusted this man. More than that, he was wise enough to know that even though James Langdon might desire to do as he said, the Ashantis would never permit such action. A glance at the face of the half-caste was sufficient to show that he was ill at ease. Matters were beginning to look serious for King Koffee and his people, and the very sight of this half-caste, who had urged them to action and to resistance, angered them. They had lost faith in him, and James Langdon knew that at any time the King’s favour might be withdrawn and he himself fall a victim. He turned away with an oath. Then he called for the guard which kept watch over the house, and gave an order. At once Dick was bound and led off down the street, and having reached a wide open space, close to the horrible fetish grove, he was brought to a halt within a few paces of the enormous sacrificial bowl, with its legs in the form of crouching lions, on the edge of which the Ashantis were wont to slay their victims. Never in all his life had he seen such a hideous sight.
“Terrible! terrible!” he murmured. “To think that men could be such brutes! It is horrible!”
He closed his eyes for a little while, and then opened them again as there was a commotion. Then, indeed, he gave a start, for four white men were slowly led into the arena, all strangers to him, and all miserable prisoners like himself. They looked at him sharply, and one of them called out a greeting.
“Sorry to see you here,” he said, with a foreign accent. “How long have you been a prisoner?”
“About six weeks. And you?”
“A year perhaps. We had hoped to be freed by the payment of a ransom. Now I suppose we must wait for the troops if these brutes will allow us. There is never any saying what they may do. To-day there will be a great sacrifice, and we are always dragged here to witness the awful scene. What news?”
He asked the question eagerly, and in a few words Dick narrated how Sir Garnet had landed and commenced operations, and how by now the troops must be at the coast and probably on the march up.
“Then that accounts for this butchery. They are trying to stop the advance, and these poor people have to suffer. Shut your eyes as long as you can, my lad. I’m hardened.”
But Dick could not. He looked on with dilated eyes and shuddered, for the next three hours were indeed too horrible to relate. Some hundreds of wretched slaves and prisoners were ruthlessly slaughtered, while the mob looked on, gloating. But happily for the white prisoners, there was little noise, only an occasional shriek from some waiting victim. The poor wretches were led to the bowl, and knives were thrust through their cheeks so that they could not utter a sound. Then their heads were forced over the edge of the bowl, and with a sweep of the sacrificial knife they were decapitated.