By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War

by G. A. Henty

Next morning at daybreak Mr. Goodenough and Frank set out from the camp. Each carried a double barreled gun, and was accompanied by one of the Houssas carrying his rifle and a butterfly net, and when three hours later they returned to the camp for breakfast and compared their spoils they found that an excellent beginning had been made. Nearly a score of birds, of which several were very rare, and five were pronounced by Mr. Goodenough to be entirely new, had been shot, and many butterflies captured. Frank had been most successful in this respect, as he had come across a small clearing in which were several deserted huts. This was just the place in which butterflies delight, for, although many kinds prefer the deep shades of the forest, by far the greater portion love the bright sunlight.

After breakfast they again set out, Frank this time keeping along the edge of the stream, where he had observed many butterflies as he came up, and where many birds of the kingfisher family had also been seen. He had been very successful, and was walking along by the edge of the water with his eyes fixed upon the trees above, where he had a minute before heard the call of a bird, when he was startled by a shout from the Houssa behind him. He involuntarily sprang back, and it was well he did so; for on the instant something swept by within an inch or two of his head. Looking round he saw, at the edge of the stream below him, a huge alligator. This had struck at him with its tail—the usual manner in which the alligator supplies itself with food—and had it not been for the warning cry of the Houssa, would have knocked him into the stream. Its mouth was open and Frank, as if by instinct, fired the contents of both barrels into its throat. The animal rolled over on to its back in the water and then turned as if to struggle to regain the bank. The Houssa, however, had run up, and, placing the muzzle of his gun within a foot of its eye, fired, and the creature rolled over dead, and was swept away by the stream.

The Houssa gave a loud shout which was answered in the distance. He then shouted two or three words, and turning to Frank said: “Men get alligator,” and proceeded on his way without concerning himself further in the matter.

On his return to camp in the evening Frank found that the alligator had been discovered and fished out, and that its steaks were by no means bad eating. Frank told Mr. Goodenough of the narrow escape he had had, and the latter pointed out to him the necessity of always keeping his eyes on the watch.

“Alligators frequently carry off the native women when engaged in washing,” he said, “and almost invariably strike them, in the first place, into the river with a blow of their tails. Once in the water they are carried off, drowned, and eaten at leisure. Sometimes, indeed, a woman may escape with the loss of a foot or arm, but this is the exception.”

“What is the best thing to do when so attacked?” Frank asked. “I don't mean to be caught napping again, still it is as well to know what to do if I am.”

“Men when so attacked have been known frequently to escape by thrusting their thumbs or fingers into the creature's eyes. If it can be done the alligator is sure to lose his hold, but it demands quickness and great presence of mind. When a reptile is tearing at one's leg, and hurrying one along under water, you can see that the nerve required to keep perfectly cool, to feel for the creature's eyes, and to thrust your finger into them is very great. The best plan, Frank, distinctly is to keep out of their reach altogether.”

After remaining for a fortnight at their camp they prepared for a move. Another hippopotamus was killed, cut up and dried, and the flesh added to the burdens. Then the tent was struck and they proceeded farther into the mountains. Two days later they halted again, the site being chosen beside a little mountain rivulet. They were now very high up in the hills, Mr. Goodenough expecting to meet with new varieties of butterflies and insects at this elevation. They had scarcely pitched their camp when Frank exclaimed:

“Surely, Mr. Goodenough, I can hear some dogs barking! I did not know that the native dogs barked.”

“Nor do they. They may yelp and howl, but they never bark like European dogs. What you hear is the bark of some sort of monkey or baboon.”