By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War

by G. A. Henty

Had the Ashantis adopted these tactics they could have crushed with ease the little bands with which the English attacked them. But it is characteristic of all savages that they can never be got to rush down upon a foe who is prepared and well armed. A half dozen white men have been known to keep a whole tribe of Red Indians at a distance on the prairie. This, however, can be accounted for by the fact that the power of the chiefs is limited, and that each Indian values his own life highly and does not care to throw it away on a desperate enterprise. Among the Ashantis, however, where the power of the chiefs is very great and where human life is held of little account, it is singular that such tactics should not have been adopted.

The Ashantis were now becoming thoroughly dispirited. Their sufferings had been immense. Fever and hunger had made great ravages among them, and, although now the wet season was over a large quantity of food could be obtained in the forest, the losses which the white men's bullets, rockets, and guns had inflicted upon them had broken their courage. The longing for home became greater than ever, and had it not been that they knew that troops stationed at the Prah would prevent any fugitives from crossing, they would have deserted in large numbers. Already one of the divisions had fallen back.

Ammon Quatia spent hours sitting at the door of his hut smoking and talking to the other chiefs. Frank was often called into council, as Ammon Quatia had conceived a high opinion of his judgment, which had proved invariably correct so far.

“We are going,” he said one day, “to take Abra Crampa and to kill its king, and then to fall back across the Prah.”

“I think you had better fall back at once,” Frank answered. “When you took me with you to the edge of the clearing yesterday I saw that preparations had been made for the defense, and that there were white troops there. You will never carry the village. The English have thrown up breastworks of earth, and they will lie behind these and shoot down your men as they come out of the forest.”

“I must have one victory to report to the king if I can,” Ammon Quatia said. “Then he can make peace if he chooses. The white men will not wish to go on fighting. The Fantis are eager for peace and to return to their villages. What do you think?”

“If it be true that white troops are coming out from England, as the Fanti prisoners say,” Frank answered, “you will see that the English will not make peace till they have crossed the Prah and marched to Coomassie. Your king is always making trouble. You will see that this time the English will not be content with your retiring, but will in turn invade Ashanti.”

Ammon Quatia and the chiefs laughed incredulously.

“They will not dare to cross the Prah,” Ammon Quatia said. “If they enter Ashanti they will be eaten up.”

“They are not so easy to eat up,” Frank answered. “You have seen how a hundred or two can fight against your whole army. What will it be when they are in thousands? Your king has not been wise. It would be better for him to send down at once and to make peace at any price.”