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

by F. S. Brereton

The call was repeated, and almost at once, from a point but a few yards nearer to the stockade, came the answer, “Hoot! Hoot!” Then the men advanced, and halted close to their comrade, while a few words of direction passed. Dick could with pleasure have dropped through the earth, so great was his dismay and consternation. Then he could have shouted with delight.

“Just a bit of sheer good fortune,” he thought. “Here was I advancing right on to one of the enemy, and these fellows gave me a warning. Very well. The hoot of the owl is the signal, and why should I not make it? Why should I not follow these beggars on their rounds? They will be visiting the sentries, and I shall then know where all are. I will go a little way with them, and then slip through between two of the men.”

It was a brilliant idea, and he set about carrying it out at once. He lifted his head and kept watch on the natives, while he listened to their conversation. Not that he could hear the words, for these men were experienced warriors, and they knew that a whisper carried far on such a still night. They conversed in the lowest of tones, and then moved on. “Hoot! Hoot!” The weird call again broke the silence, and was responded to. Then the native chiefs who were going the rounds moved on, and after them crept Dick, as silent and stealthy as a snake, one hand placed before the other, groping the ground to see that it was clear of twigs or other material which might betray his presence. Then the other would follow, and afterwards his knees would be drawn up beneath him, and he would repeat the whole process. “Hoot! Hoot!” There it was again. A third sentry had been approached, but Dick could not see him even though he was so close.

“Which shows me clearly how difficult the task is,” he thought. “But for those fellows going the rounds I should have walked right on to this batch of sentries, and then there would have been a row. Hullo! Some one else is on the alert.”

He could have laughed, for as the natives went on their way and repeated their signal, the Ashanti miners in the stockade must have carefully listened. Then they thought they espied the enemy, standing against a piece of open ground which happened to be exceptionally light in colour. Suddenly a single shot rang out, the detonation startling every one, and making our hero jump. For a single instant the stockade became outlined, and Dick thought he saw heads peeping up above the baulks of timber. Then all was darkness again and silence, save for the hoot of the native chief and the answer of the sentry.

“Time to be moving on,” thought Dick. “I have barely half an hour in which to reach friends, and now is my opportunity. These fellows here will have their attention distracted by the call of their comrades going the rounds. I may manage to get through. In any case I shall chance it, and if I am discovered I shall make a dash for the stockade. I suppose I shall have to run the chance of being shot, for how can my own men know that I am not one of the enemy? That also I must risk. Anything better than to be out here alone.”

Inch by inch he made his way across the open in the direction of the hill, his eyes turning from side to side, while he halted every minute. He was quite cool now. The imminence of his danger, the knowledge that there were enemies very near and on either hand, seemed to have braced his nerves. His heart had ceased to thump like a sledge-hammer against his ribs, while he could no longer feel his pulses beating and throbbing till it was almost painful. He had need of every faculty, of coolness and courage, and he did not mean to throw away a chance. Hush! A man, the sentry on his right, sat up suddenly, and as Dick crouched he could see that the fellow was listening. He had heard something which had aroused his suspicions, and with all the keenness of a native for the chase he would probe the matter to the bottom, he would not be satisfied to rest till he had cleared up the mystery. “Hoot! Hoot!” He sounded the signal, and for an instant our hero’s heart failed him. Should he answer? Was he seen?

“Yes, I believe he has heard me,” he thought. “He wonders who I am. I will answer. Hoot! Hoot!”

In very low tones he gave the call, and waited eagerly for what was next to happen. Then he gave vent to a sigh of relief. The man was deceived. He took this other figure for a comrade, and imagining that he was too close, and that the circle would be too open on the farther side, he rose to his knees and crawled to the right, till he was out of sight and hearing. After that Dick waited no longer. He crept forward, stealthily and slowly at first, till he was yards nearer the stockade. Then he increased the pace till he judged that he was clear of the inner line of sentries, and almost within hailing distance of his friends. But still he would not neglect the precautions he had decided were necessary.

“I feel inclined to jump to my feet and make a bolt for it,” he thought. “But no, that wouldn’t do, and I might easily be shot from the stockade. Slow and sure, said the tortoise, and I’ll stick to the motto.”