A Voyage round the World / A book for boys

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“A calabash of milk, friend Sambo,” answered Jerry, in no ways daunted. While, however, he was speaking, two other blacks appeared at the door, while three or four more, flourishing long knives, came running toward us from a neighbouring wood.

“Put spurs to your horses, boys, and let us get away from this!” cried the doctor. As we were attempting to follow his advice, one of the blacks seized Jerry’s rein, and though I struck the fellow a heavy blow with my stick, he would not let go his hold. The consequence of the blow was nearly fatal to me, for the fellow with his other hand struck at me with a long glittering knife, and had not I pulled back my horse by an involuntary movement, he would have plunged it into my side—as it was, he cut my trousers and drew blood from my leg. Seeing things come to this pass, the doctor and Silva, who proved himself a brave fellow, began to lay about them, one with his stick and the other with a heavy Spanish riding whip; while old Surley, who, after growling fiercely, saw that the time for action had now arrived, began to bite away at the negroes’ thin calves and long heels, greatly to their annoyance. Each man, as he found himself bit, turned round and endeavoured to stab the dog, and very much afraid I was that they would succeed; but so actively did he jump about from side to side, now bounding here, now there, that not one of the numberless blows which were struck reached him, while his furious barking and repeated bites served most materially to distract the attention of our assailants. Still they were fully eight armed savages to five people with sticks and a whip, and a dog; and as Jerry and I were only boys, and old Surley had only his teeth to fight with, it must be acknowledged that we were very unequally matched. Feeling this, we should certainly have felt it no disgrace to run away if we could; but the black held on so tightly to Jerry’s rein that we could not escape. At last the negro I speak of, finding that he had missed me and could not hit the dog, lifted up his long knife and made a desperate lounge with it at Jerry. I saw what he was about to do, and crying out to Surley, my stick instinctively came down with all its force on the ruffian’s arm, while the dog sprung up and caught him by the throat. He let go at that moment the rein.

“Now on, boys, on!” sung out the doctor, who saw what had occurred; and bringing our sticks down on our horses’ backs, we dashed past the infuriated negroes, on whose heads Silva bestowed many a terrific whack with his stout stick, as they attempted to catch his rein. We were followed closely by the guide and our valiant ally, old Surley, at whom several blows were aimed, but he escaped them all, and at full gallop we pushed over the sandy plain, pursued by our black assailants. Happily they had no fire-arms, or we should have fared ill. When we had got beyond their reach we pulled up and congratulated ourselves on our escape, while old Surley came in for his due share of praise and thanks. He wagged his tail and opened his mouth, as if he were about to speak and say, “I only did my duty, masters; you feed me well, and treat me kindly, and I love you, and am ready to fight for you, and do you any other service in my power, as I hope to prove whenever I have the opportunity.”

It was very late when we got back to Lima, to the house of a merchant who had asked us to stay with him. He told us that the blacks who attacked us were, he had no doubt, emancipated slaves, who had always borne a very bad character. Had they been properly educated, and prepared for freedom, they might have turned out well; but those wretches are a melancholy example of what will be found to be the case in other countries where slavery still exists, should the slaves suddenly be made free, or should they rise and win their freedom for themselves. Unless they are carefully trained—taught to depend on their own exertions, and instructed in the pure truths of Christianity—they will, when freed, sink into a state of sloth and wretchedness; or if they rise to obtain their own freedom, they will, very certainly, be guilty of the most dreadful murders and every kind of atrocity in carrying out their designs. I often have since thought of what our friend said, and have prayed that the people of the United States will make due preparation for enlightening those held so long in bondage. On the nature of that preparation it defends (I have often heard Captain Frankland say) whether their dear-bought liberty shall give joy and gladness, or poverty and misery.

The next morning, before returning to Callao, we rode out to visit the ruins of an Inca town, situated on a hill forming one side of a fertile and well-irrigated valley. The walls of the houses were built of unburnt brick and mud, carefully constructed at right angles to each other, and very thick—indeed, they put us in mind of some of the pictures we had seen of Egyptian architecture. We were surprised to hear of the great number of Indians who still exist in the country. Under the present government they live happy and contented lives among the lovely valleys of their ancestors. Their huts are generally built of stone and covered with red tiles, creepers being trained to trail over the walls, over which often a huge pumpkin is seen to hang, while a prickly cactus stands as a sentinel at the doorway. The dress of the men is a serge coat of an emerald green colour, without a collar, and with a short skirt; loose black breeches, open at the knee, after the Spanish fashion; and a long red waistcoat with large pockets. Pieces of llamas’ hide fastened round the feet serve them for shoes, while their legs are stockingless. On their heads they wear broad-brimmed hats or caps, adorned with gold-lace or ribbons of gay colours. The women wear the same hat as the men, with a mantle over the shoulder secured in front by a silver pin; a red bodice, and a blue petticoat reaching a little below the knee. Altogether they present a very picturesque appearance. We made another very interesting excursion in a canal up a river—or a stream rather, for it was very narrow—but what we were most struck with was the richness of the vegetation, the bark, reeds, and trees, and shrubs of all sorts which grew close to the water. What was remarkable were the palm-trees, which shot up above the other trees—themselves of no inconsiderable growth. We were sorry not to be able to spend a longer time on the river. It put us very much in mind of the scenery of the Amazon. We saw enough of the country to make us long to see more of it, but were obliged to hurry back to the railway-station to get to Callao, once more to embark on board the Triton.

It was night by the time we reached the harbour, the sea calm as glass; and it struck me that there was something peculiarly solemn as we looked out on that dark, silent expanse of water, after gazing as we had done for some days on the lofty snow-capped Cordilleras, and the laughing green valleys round Lima. Dark as was the water, no sooner were the oars dipped in it than it appeared as if they were ladling up some red-hot fluid metal; and as the boat which was sent to take us off pulled toward us from the ship, she left a long line of fire in her wake. Even when we scooped up the water in our hands and threw it into the air, it appeared like sparkles of fire, so long did it retain its brilliancy. The slightest movement in the water caused a flash of light. Jerry and I agreed that we had never seen anything more beautiful. The doctor told us that this phosphorescence or luminosity of the ocean is caused by a minute animal, scarcely perceptible to the naked eye, though sufficient to tinge the water of a brown or reddish colour. Other marine substances are, however, luminous. While we were waiting to step into the boat, the bay having returned to its original darkness, on a sudden it appeared as if it had become a vast caldron of molten lead. The waters tumbled and rolled about in sheets of flame.

“It is indeed a beautiful sight,” exclaimed the doctor; “never saw such a display of luminosity.”

“Grand, grand!” cried Jerry. “A thing to talk about—ah! what is that?”

We were all silent. There was a low, rumbling, awful noise, neither like distant thunder nor the report of cannon—nor, indeed, anything else I ever heard; the earth seemed to sink under our feet, and then as if it were being crushed together—rocks, and earth, and sand, all in one lump by some mighty force. It was very dreadful. Our knees positively trembled under us, at least I felt mine doing so. The boat rose and fell several times. I remembered the way in which old Callao had been destroyed, and I began to fear that a similar catastrophe was about to occur. For a time there was a perfect rest, no movement of earth, or water, or air—not the less awful on that account though.