With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War

by F. S. Brereton

Crash! The report of the rifle set the jungle ringing, while it reverberated along the still surface of the river. Then came a shriek, followed by a shout from the shore. The native who poled the boat staggered and almost fell. Then he recovered himself, answered the shout from the shore, and in an instant had swung the boat’s head round in that direction.

“We have him sure enough,” cried Mr Pepson, for the first time showing some trace of excitement. “He is making for the moonlit side, and cannot escape. At least, the boat and its freight are ours again. Drop the rifle and take to the pole.”

They plunged their long poles into the water and sent the craft dancing after the other. But quick as they were, the boat in advance seemed to shoot across the moonlit stretch, and rapidly gained the bank. Again there was a shout, a dark figure ran out into the river, splashing the water loudly. Then a second followed, while the native who had been aboard threw his pole aside and staggered ashore.

“Heavily hit,” gasped Mr Pepson, for the exertion of poling was beginning to tell upon him. “But I was right. We have the boat, and, after all, what more do we want? Pole easily, Dick, and keep an eye on those fellows. Ah, they seem to have run for it. We have nothing to fear from them at least.”

They pushed their craft gently into the shallows, till they were almost beneath the trees. Then, giving one lusty push, Dick stepped over the side and waded, dragging the boat after him. A minute later both were ashore, and were inspecting the other craft.

“We were just in time,” said Mr Pepson, in tones of the greatest satisfaction. “Another few minutes and they would have got clear away, and then good-bye to the expedition, for a time at any rate. Make her fast, Dick, and keep a watch ashore.”

Well was it for both of them that Dick did as he was told. Indeed, from the moment at which he had leaped into the river and commenced to wade, his suspicions had kept him alert with his eyes fixed upon the jungle and bush into which the three dark figures had disappeared. And now he was to find good cause for his wariness, for, of a sudden, as Mr Pepson took the rope which was made fast to the bows of the runaway, and dragged it towards the craft in which they had undertaken the pursuit, a sharp sound came from the depths of the jungle. It was the snapping of a dried twig, a crisp and startling noise which caused both to look up suddenly.

“They are not so far away, I think,” said Dick, in a low voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if we moved away, sir? We are in the full blaze of the moon’s rays here, while they are in the shadow. That’s how that robber managed to get away from me down at the coast.”

Hardly had the words left his lips when a single shot rang out, startling the silence, while the flash of the weapon lit up the immediate surroundings of the bush, and showed a dozen dark figures perhaps, all in the act of running forward. Dick noticed that in the twinkling of an eye, and heard also the click of the missile as it struck a hanging bough some feet in front of him. Then there was a dull thud, that thud which in the old days of large calibre rifles and heavy bullets told unmistakably of a hit. A second later a heavy splash and a sickening gurgle told the young Englishman the horrid truth. His comrade had been struck and had fallen into the shallow water.

It was a terrifying position, and for a second Dick stood rooted to the spot with consternation. Then his courage returned, and with the memory of that glimpse of charging figures which the flash of the rifle had given him, he stooped, clutched his fallen friend, and staggered to the boat. Half throwing him into it, he leaned across the thwarts, seized his rifle, and extracted a cartridge from the bag. He had still a moment to spare, for the patter of feet and the snap of many a twig told him that the enemy were not yet quite at hand.