Then the troops turned their faces to the coast and commenced their long march back. And, as it proved, the return journey was not begun a moment too soon, for the rains commenced in earnest, and ere the coast was reached the men had to march along forest paths thick with mud, and perhaps covered by three feet of water. Where before had been smooth grass land was now a swamp, extending for considerable distances. Then, too, at the rivers, it was found that the bridges erected by the sappers with so much skill were already useless, or washed away. So the fine body of men, all more or less wounded, had to wade across, carrying their rifles above their heads. As for the sick, they were borne in hammocks, and in this manner Meinheer Van Somering reached the coast and was straightway put on board ship. Dick and Mr Pepson joined him there, with Johnnie to act as servant. Of the gallant troops and bluejackets who took part in the campaign, a large number were stricken down with fever, and of these a large proportion died.
Never before perhaps had a campaign been conducted where such difficulties had to be contended with; and when one comes to consider the distance Kumasi lies from the coast, the extent and depth of the forests, and the extraordinary nature of the fighting, one is bound to admit that never before or since have our men showed more courage and persistence, while our officers and their gallant leader could not have displayed greater skill and foresight.
Dick returned no more to the white man’s grave. His health had been considerably impaired by his residence there, and, besides, he found work awaiting him in England. For Mr Pepson was a wealthy man, and had need of a partner in his business.
“Not a word,” he exclaimed when Dick attempted to thank him. “If I cannot do this for one who has fought my battles so well, I should indeed be ungrateful. You deserve all that I offer, and I am sure that you will make an excellent partner.”
And this seemed to be the opinion also of Mr Pepson’s niece, a very charming girl some two years Dick’s junior.
“Go to Africa again, Dick!” she exclaimed, when he broached the subject. “That I forbid, because uncle tells me that the climate would kill you. And he says that he needs you here in his business. Surely that is reason enough for your remaining.”
There was a pretty little smile about the corners of her mouth as she said the words, and curiously enough, Dick, the stubborn, who had made up his mind to a thing out in Ashanti and had carried it out, whatever the danger and difficulty, gave way with the best of grace and with an answering smile which spoke volumes. Need the reader feel surprise when he hears that Dick first made his position strong in Mr Pepson’s business, proving without a doubt that he was of the greatest value, and that then he asked his fair friend a little question?
He has been married for many years now, and rents a fine place an hour’s run from London. But once in each year our hero is wont to run up to the capital, there to meet a select party of friends, all of whom had been engaged in that fierce campaign in Ashanti. Familiar faces are there, and many of the breasts which in that day boasted but a single decoration, now gleam with miniature medals. Dick wears a single badge, the medal presented to civilian fighters. But he and his deeds are not forgotten. There are always the heartiest greetings awaiting him, and, indeed, such is his popularity, and so well are his brave deeds remembered, that when his erect and well-known figure enters the room in which the gathering takes place, there is a general turning of heads, eager conversations are suddenly arrested, and all advance to grip his hand. There is no need for the butler at the door to announce him, for to every one this tall and unassuming gentleman is known. They smile a real welcome to him, and then the buzz of their voices breaks out again: “It’s Stapleton—gallant Dick Stapleton.”
The End.