Ned Garth; Or, Made Prisoner in Africa: A Tale of the Slave Trade

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Mohammed, taking his gun from Ned’s hand and shouting his battle cry, rushed forward, firing as he advanced. In the meantime the gate had been opened. Many of the Arabs and a large number of their followers sprang in. No resistance was offered. Others were about to follow when the gate was shut, and directly afterwards the sharp rattle of musketry was heard, mingled with the shouts of the Arabs and the shrieks and cries of the negroes, but not a shot, was fired at those outside. Then there came an ominous silence. Suddenly it was broken by renewed firing, but this time the shots were directed towards the assailants, who were still pressing on to the walls. In vain they attempted to force the gate, numbers were falling; already half their number, with those cut to pieces inside the village, were killed or wounded, and Mohammed, calling his followers round him, retreated, leaving all the dead and many of the worst wounded behind to the mercy of the victors. They hurried on until they were beyond the range of the muskets of the fort, when they halted, and Mohammed asked whether they would renew the attack and revenge the loss of their friends or retreat.

The point was settled by the appearance of a band of black warriors armed, some with shields and spears and others with muskets, issuing from the gate.

The retreat was continued, and Mohammed had the greatest difficulty in preventing it from becoming a disorganised flight. Bravely he faced about, and setting the example to his men fired his musket at the advancing foe; but the latter, halting when the Arabs stopped, kept out of range, again advancing as soon as they moved on.

Ned remained with Mohammed, who shook his head mournfully as if acknowledging his defeat. He had reason to look grave. The distance to the camp was great, they were in an enemy’s country, and there was more than one defile to pass through, while the thick woods and tall grass on either side might conceal large bodies of their foes. Again and again the Arab called on his men to keep together, and not to be disheartened, though he himself showed his apprehensions by the expression of his countenance. For a couple of hours the retreating force had marched on, the dark band of savages hovering in their rear, but not venturing near enough to come to blows.

Mohammed continued to cast anxious glances on either hand, and retained his musket instead of giving it back to Ned to carry for him. Ned longed to be able to ask him what hope there was of getting back safe to the camp, but when he made signs the chief only gave in return an ominous shake of the head.

One of the denies they had to pass through was entered, Mohammed gazed round even more anxiously than before, scanning every rock and bush which might conceal a foe. While their pursuers were still in sight, the narrowest part was gained. The chief had inspired Ned with his own apprehensions, and every moment he expected to be assailed by a shower of arrows and javelins. He breathed more freely when they once more entered the open country. As they advanced they looked behind, hoping that the negroes would not have ventured through the pass, but they were still pursuing. The Arabs dared not halt to rest or take any refreshment, for it was all-important to reach their camp before nightfall. Once there, as it was well stored with provisions, they might wait for reinforcements.

A thick wood, however, was before them and another rocky defile. As they approached the wood, Mohammed again showed his anxiety. Several of the men now gave in, the wounded especially suffered greatly, and one by one they dropped, no attempt being made to carry them on. The wood, however, was passed, and next the defile appeared. Their figures cast long shadows on the ground, and the entrance to the gorge looked dark and threatening. The fugitives were too much fatigued to climb the heights to ascertain if any foes lurked among them. “On, on!” was the cry, Mohammed and the other chiefs leading. Ned cast one look behind, and saw that the negroes were pressing forward in their rear at a faster pace than before; the move was ominous. The pass was entered. The men went on at a sharp run, each eager to get through. Not a shout was uttered, the tramp of many feet alone was heard, when suddenly the comparative silence was broken by fierce shrieks and cries, and from all sides came showers of arrows and javelins, while from the heights above their heads rushed down a complete avalanche of rocks and stones. Ned saw Mohammed pierced through by an arrow; all the other chiefs the next instant shared the same fate. There was no hope of escaping by pushing forward, as the path was barred by a band of shrieking savages, while on every side lay the dead or dying, crushed by stones or pierced by arrows and darts. In the rear he could distinguish the few survivors endeavouring to cut their way out by the road they had come, fighting desperately with the band of warriors who had pursued them, but they too were quickly brought to the ground, and not half a dozen of his companions remained standing. He was looking round to see whether any overhanging rock or hollow would afford him shelter, when a stone struck his head and he sank almost senseless to the ground. The next instant the savages in front came rushing on, while others, descending from the heights, leapt into the ravine. He gave himself up for lost. The savages sprang forward, uttering cries more of terror than victory. No one attempted to strike the fallen. Some climbed up the rocks, others rushed at headlong speed through the ravine. The cause was evident, they were being pursued. A rattling fire was opened upon them, the bullets striking either the rocks or the ground close to where Ned lay, he being partly protected, however, by the bodies of the Arab chiefs, none hit him. The savages continued their flight until they joined the party at the western end of the pass. Here they turned about, encouraged by their friends, to meet the fresh body of Arabs. A fierce fight now took place, and the Arabs had cause to repent their imprudence in so hurriedly pushing forward. Several of their leaders fell, and they in their turn retreated. Ned saw them coming, and at the same time he observed that a number of the savages had again climbed the heights and were preparing to assail them as they had Mohammed’s party. Fortunately for the Arabs, the Africans had expended most of their missiles. Ned implored the first who passed in their retreat to lift him up and to carry him with them, for he fully expected to be trampled to death should he not be killed by the falling rocks or the arrows of the savages. His cries were unheeded; already the greater number had passed by, when he saw an Arab, evidently a chief, bringing up the rear, and encouraging the men under him by continuing their fire to keep the foe in check. Ned recognised him as the Arab whose life he had saved from the sinking dhow.

“Sayd, Sayd!” he shouted, “don’t you know me? Do help me out of this.”

“Yes, yes, I will save you,” answered the Arab. There was no time for further words, and stooping down Sayd lifted Ned in his arms and, with the aid of one of his followers, bore him on through the pass, while his men, as before, kept their pursuers at bay.

The open country was at length gained. The savages, although they might rightly claim the victory, having suffered severely, showed no inclination to continue the pursuit.