And some among them are the skeletons of mere children.
Even in the blackened ruins of the huts lie half-charred bones, which tell their own dismal tale.
But the saddest sight of all is that which they come to at last.
It is that of a large skeleton, with no marks of violence, hanging in chains to a tree. The skull has tumbled to the ground and one of the limbs, but enough remains to show the gruesomeness of the tragedy which at no very recent date must have been enacted in this lovely glade. The poor wretch must have been chained up alive, and left to die in the sunshine, or to be eaten alive by the awful insects, the centipedes, and poisonous beetles that infest a forest such as this by night.
Sandie and Willie both felt sick, and were not sorry when they found themselves far away from that haunted glade.
They managed to shoot over a dozen rock-rabbits, and now with their spoil they betook themselves back to the ship, to report on all they had seen.
“As I thought,” said the old captain. “The Blackbirders have been at work. They have wiped out a portion of the natives who dared to resist, and have made prisoners of the rest; and the poor wretch, hung in chains to die a lingering death, was no doubt the chief.
. . . . . .
The men of the lost Boo-boo-boo soon began to settle down to their new mode of life, lonely and all though it was.
Captain D’Acre thought it would be best to live on board the Peaceful. They would not only be free from malaria, and the troubles of creeping insect life, but in a better position to defend themselves if attacked by some wandering hostile tribe.