In the woods, ten miles from the City of Blood, they buried their fallen comrades, after Colonel Fraser himself had said a prayer—not a printed one, but an earnest prayer from his honest, kindly heart.
Many a tear trickled down the cheeks of the blue-jackets and marines as comrade after comrade was laid side by side in the deeply-dug trench, while such expressions as the following were heard on every side:
"Good-bye, Bill, we'll never see you more!"
"Ah, Joe, you and I 'as spent many a 'appy day together. Farewell, old man, farewell!"
"Jim, if I thought a pipe 'ud comfort ye, I'd put all my 'baccy beside ye in the grave. Blest if I wouldn't, messmates!"
Rough but kindly words, and not without a certain degree of pathos.
* * * * * * * * * * *
There was no need to hurry back; so, after crossing a creek about ten miles from the river they bivouacked at Siri, a wretched village, for the night. But the inhabitants had heard of the battle, and the downfall of the assassin king, and brought them presents of fruit and cassava, besides nutmegs and spices, for all of which they were substantially thanked with gifts of coloured beads, which made the sable ladies chuckle and coo with delight.
Next day the expedition reached the river and crossed to Sapelé, and soon after the sailors reached their ship.
But they had not quite done with Benin yet. The wounded soldiers had been safely seen to at Sapelé, but the colonel and a Lieutenant Aswood boarded the Rattler to dine with Flint and his officers, and considering everything, a very jolly evening was spent. The doctor had reported that the wounded would all do well, so Commander Flint gave a dinner-party, and orders to splice the main brace, from the gun-room aft right away forward to the cook's galley.