“You must cheer by command. I will say ‘Hip, hip, hip!’ three times; as soon as I say the third ‘hip,’ out with the cry. Now then. Hip, hip—”
“’Popotamus,” whispered Peterkin.
“Hip, hurrah!” shouted Jack.
“Hurl! ho! sh! kee! how!” yelled the savages, each man giving his own idea of our terror-inspiring British cheer.
“That will do,” said Jack quietly; “it is quite evident that the war-cry of the white man is not suited to the throat of the black. You will utter your usual shout, my friends, when the signal is given; but remember, not before that.
“And now I come to the greatest mystery of all.” (Every ear was eagerly attentive.) “The shot and bits of metal and little stones with which King Jambai’s warriors are accustomed to kill will not do on this great and peculiar occasion. They will not answer the purpose—my purpose; therefore I have provided a kind of bullet which every one must use instead of his usual shot. No warriors ever used such bullets in the fight before. They are very precious, because I have only enough of them to give one to each man. But that will do. If the enemy does not fly at the first discharge, then you may load with your own shot.”
So saying, Jack, with the utmost gravity, took from the pouch that hung at his side a handful of little balls of paper about the size of a musket bullet, which he began to distribute among the savages. We had observed Jack making several hundreds of these, the night previous to this memorable day, out of one or two newspapers we had carried along with us for wadding; but he would not at that time tell us what he was going to do with them. The negroes received this novel species of ammunition with deep interest and surprise. Never having seen printed paper before, or, in all probability, paper of any kind, they were much taken up with the mysterious characters imprinted thereon, and no doubt regarded these as the cause of the supernatural power which the bullets were supposed to possess.
“Remember,” said Jack, “when these are discharged at the enemy, I do not say that they will kill, but I do say that they will cause the enemy to fly. Only, be assured that everything depends on your obedience. And if one single stone, or nail, or hard substance is put in along with these bullets, the chief part of my plans will be frustrated.”
It was quite evident, from the expression of their sable countenances, that the idea of the bullets not killing was anything but agreeable. They were too deeply impressed, however, with Jack’s power, and too far committed in the enterprise, and generally too much overwhelmed with mingled surprise and perplexity, to offer any objection.
“Now,” said Jack in conclusion, “you may go and eat well. To-night, when it grows dark, hold yourselves in readiness to go forth in dead silence. Mind that: not a sound to be uttered until the signal, ‘Hip, hip, hip!’ is given.”