“This is my sceptre,” she said, “and all my people respect it.” She smiled as she added: “I make them do so. I can hypnotise a man with a touch of it; but if a fellow is fractious, I have a strong arm, and he feels the weight of it across his shins. He must fling himself at my feet before I forgive him. My history, gentlemen, is a very brief one, though somewhat sad and romantic. I am the daughter of a wealthy English merchant, who had a strange longing to visit in one of his own ships the shores of Africa and the South Sea Islands. He did so eventually, accompanied by my dear mother and myself, then little more than a child, for I was only fifteen; also an elder brother. Alas! we were driven far out of our way by a gale, or rather hurricane, of wind, and wrecked on this island. My father’s last act was to tie me to a spar. That spar was carried away by the tide, and in the débris of the wreck I was washed up on shore. Every soul on board perished except myself. The superstitious natives looked upon the dark-haired maiden as some strange being from another world, and I was revered and made much of from the first. I soon had proof enough that the islanders were cannibals, for they built great fires on the beach and roasted the bodies of the sailors that were washed up. There were, indeed, but few, for the sharks had first choice, and out yonder in that blue and sunlit sea the sharks are often in shoals and schools. Some devoured the human flesh raw, believing that thus they would gain extra strength and bravery in the day of battle.”
“Are there many battles, then?” asked Reginald.
“Hitherto, doctor, my people have been the invaders of a larger island lying to the east of us. Thither they go in their war canoes, and so far fortune has favoured them. They bring home heads and human flesh. The flesh they eat, the heads they place on the beach till cleaned and whitened by crabs and ants; then they are stuck on poles in my somewhat ghastly avenue. I have tried, but all in vain, to change the cannibalistic ways of my people. They come to hear me preach salvation on Sundays, and they join in the hymns I sing; but human flesh they will have. Yes, on the whole I am very happy, and would not change my lot with Victoria of Britain herself. My people do love me, mind, and I would rather be somebody in this savage though beautiful island than nobody in the vortex of London society.
“But I have one thing else to tell you. The Red-stripe savages of the isle we have so often conquered are gathering in force, and are determined to carry the war into our country; with what results I cannot even imagine, for they are far stronger numerically than we are, though not so brave. These savages are also cannibals; not only so, but they put their prisoners to tortures too dreadful even to think of. It will be many months before they arrive, but come they will. I myself shall lead my army. This will inspire my people with pluck and from the hilltops I hope you will see us repel the Armada in beautiful style.”
She laughed right merrily as she finished her narrative.
“But my dear Queen,” said Dickson, “do you imagine that myself and my brave fellows saved from the wreck will be contented to act as mere spectators from the hills, like the ‘gods’ in a theatre gallery, looking down on a play? Nay, we must be beside you, or near you, actors in the same drama or tragedy. Lucky it is, doctor, that we managed to save our two six-pounders, our rifles, and nearly all our ammunition. Why are they called the Red-stripe savages, your Majesty?”
“Because, though almost naked, their bodies when prepared for war are all barred over with red paint. The face is hideous, for an eye is painted on the forehead, and a kind of cap with the pricked ears of the wild fox, which is half a wolf, worn on the head. Their arms are bows, spears, shields of great size, which quite cover them, and terrible black knives.”
“Our shrapnel, believe me, lady, will go through all that, and their heads as well.”
“Though loth to seek your assistance,” said Queen Bertha, “in this case I shall be glad of it. For if they succeed in conquering us the massacre would be awful. Not a man, woman or child would be left alive on our beautiful island.”
“Assuredly we shall conquer them,” said Dickson. “The very sound of our guns and crack of our rifles will astonish and demoralise them. Not a boat shall return of their invincible Armada; perhaps not a savage will be left alive to tell the tale hereafter.”