He was a little, active, and very athletic man, and with a trusty weapon in his hand, I never doubted that he would prove a terrible enemy among even a score of these not over-wholesome Fuegians, or Firelanders, as they are often called. Not but what these savages are hardy enough. Passing ships can scarcely judge of the whole race from the miserable and often puny creatures that are sent out to beg and sell curiosities. No, if it be any credit to him, I will admit that the Fuegian Indian is as fierce and warlike in his own way as any savage ever I met with. He can be either a lamb or a wild beast, as it suits his purpose. He has but one aim or object in the world, and but one motto: “Kill and eat.” Nor is he a whit particular what he does kill and eat. Is there nothing good to be said for these Indians? Yes, they are fond of their offspring and careful of their comforts, until the children can run. After that they must look out for themselves, and pick up a dead mouse or a dead bird, wherever they can find it, till they learn to use their bows and arrows. And a Fuegian boy is quite a little warrior by the time he has reached his sixth or seventh year.
The Fireland warrior full grown is not a giant, but sometimes very powerful, and far more hardy than could be believed possible, going almost stark naked even in winter—when at work, at all events; that is, when hunting, fishing, rowing, or running.
This is a digression, but it is necessary to show the kind of enemy we had so soon to meet in battle. I must digress further to the extent of a few words, and tell you that Jill was an excellent swordsman. We had a good tutor in our father, and my brother and I were always at sword exercise when at home and not doing either work or mischief. Many a hard knock we had given each other, but I rejoice to add we never lost our tempers.
“You feel sure we’ll have a go at these niggers to-night, Mr Ritchie, if I may make so bold?”
This was a question put to our captain shortly after the moon had risen.
“As sure as that I’m looking at the moon,” said Ritchie.
“And what think you will be the upshot?”
“It’ll be a down-shot to begin with,” replied Ritchie, by way of making a grim joke.
“But, Lawlor lad, I’m half afraid the Fuegians will have the upper hand, drat ’em!”
“And we’ll all be scuppered?”