With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War. Brereton Frederick Sadleir
it’s different, for then officers and men live practically the same life, and put up with the same hardships.”
“I know it’s not all a feather bed, sir,” replied Dick, respectfully. “But I’m stranded. I can’t be kicking my heels out here in idleness, and I see few prospects of selling the store and the property. So I shall take what I can get for the goods now on hand and get a passage to England. If I can I shall work my way back, for it would be as well to learn to rough it from the first.”
“And perhaps I could help you,” was the answer. “Look here, Stapleton, we’re sorry for you. It was very hard luck losing your money in that way, and if you are really keen on returning home with a view to entering the army, I’ll get you a post aboard a steamer. A word from the Governor would influence the captain, and as you say, it is better to rough it now, and get a little practice, before joining the ranks. There, too, I can do something, I imagine. Come again when you have thoroughly made up your mind, and I will see what can be done.”
Dick had to be satisfied with that, and as he lay there on the sand he had firmly come to a decision, and resolved to ask for a post aboard the steamer then lying in the roads, and return in her to England.
“But first I’ll see whether there is any one there who wants a store or a house,” he said. “They’ll be coming soon. I see the surf-boats are on the way, and the rope gangway has been lowered.”
He watched as some passengers clambered down the gangway, their white drill clothing showing crisply against the dark background of the ship, while others, less capable of the somewhat difficult feat of descending a swaying ladder, were lowered in a chair slung from the yard. Then his eye lazily followed as the kroo boys thrust their long paddles into the sea, and shot the big craft from the vessel’s side. A second took its place at the gangway, and another load of passengers, all in gleaming white clothes as before, descended or were slung into the boat, and were rowed away. After that he could see the baggage being lowered down till other boats, which had now gone alongside, were well filled.
“There’s Brown, who went home six months ago, just before I came out,” said Dick, suddenly, as the first boat drew near the outer margin of the surf. “I remember he brought a message to me from father. How well he’s looking. When I saw him last he was a skeleton.”
He rose to his feet and strolled down to the edge of the sandy beach, where he waited to greet his friend. There were one or two others whom he recognised, and they waved to him. But for a little while passengers and friends ashore were completely divided, for a wide belt of raging surf stretched between them. On the outer fringe of this the surf-boat lay to, the kroo boys standing along the sides with the tips of their paddles just dipping in the water. They made no movement save every now and again when a big swelling breaker caused them to roll, and threatened to carry the boat into the surf. Then there was a word from the headman, the paddles dipped deeply, and the boat swung back from the surf.
“It wants doing to-day,” said an officer, who had now taken his place beside Dick. “There’s no wind to speak of, but there’s quite a heavy surf. I always like watching those kroo boatmen. Clever beggars, Stapleton, and full of pluck when engaged in a job of this sort. Ah, they are off.”
A shout came over the water, and at once all the paddles were plunged deep into the sea. The boat, helped by a breaker, sprang forward into the surf, and then being caught up by an enormous rolling billow, she shot forward on its crest, being lifted many feet into the air, till, in fact, those aboard her seemed to be far above those on the beach. But in a moment she dropped down again, and for a few seconds was out of sight.
“Looks as though the following wave would cover her,” said the officer, as he watched keenly for another sight of the boat. “Those beggars are paddling as if for their lives.”
At that instant the surf-boat had again come to view, and as the officer had remarked, the kroo boys were plying their paddles with tremendous energy. They looked over their shoulders with some apprehension, and then at the repeated shouts of their leader they dug their blades into the boiling surf and struggled to push the craft towards the shore. But in spite of their exertions the surf-boat seemed to be receding. She appeared to be slowly gliding backward down the far side of the billow which had just passed, falling, in fact, towards the gulf which lay between it and the monstrous wave which followed.
“They’re done,” cried the officer.
“They’ll manage it, I think,” said Dick, quietly. “But it’s touch and go.”
And that it proved to be. The men aboard shouted, and drove their paddles with fierce energy, while the spray licked about them, and the following wave seemed to surround them. The passengers, seeing their danger, behaved like sensible beings. They sat still and clutched their seats, while they looked backward apprehensively. Suddenly the boat began to move forward. The efforts of the paddlers were having the desired effect. It slowly gathered way, though the following wave, with its green curling crest now erected high above the craft, seemed to be about to fall upon it and swamp the passengers. Another shout, another fierce struggle, and the boat shot forward, the crest of the wave doubled up, caved in at that point, subsided into the seething boil about it, and then glided under the surf-boat, lifting it swiftly into the air. How it moved! It might have been shot from a gun. And the kroo men had reversed their paddles. They were now doing their utmost to restrain the boat, to keep her from being dashed on the shore. It was a magnificent struggle. The curling wave, a huge mass of foam and water, burst with a thunderous boom on the sand, and breaking into a million cascades, shot its torrents up on to the beach. The boat fell as suddenly till its keel was close to the sand, when it leapt forward again and finally came with a bump to the ground. At once the kroo boys leapt over the side, waist-deep in the receding water. They were almost dragged from their feet, but they clutched the boat, and putting their united strength to the task, ran her a few feet higher up, till, when the water subsided, she was left almost high and dry.
“Bravo!” shouted the officer and Dick together. “It was a narrow squeak. Ah, how are you, Preston?” went on the former as he recognised a friend, while our hero turned to the young fellow whom he had last seen in England.
By now a number of other residents had arrived, and there was an animated meeting, the passengers leaping out and shaking hands. Amid all the excitement, the hand-gripping, the questions as to friends at home, and as to matters on the Gold Coast, no one took notice of the following boats save Dick, who had greeted his friend and left him to pass on to others. He watched, therefore, as the second craft approached, and stared at the occupants as the stout vessel lay off the breakers waiting for the propitious moment to arrive when it would be wise to push forward.
There were five passengers in all, three of them officers returning to duty, and two others, of whom one seemed to be a man of some fifty years of age, thin and almost cadaverous, while the last by all appearances was a very stout, short man, who found the heat trying, for he fanned his face with an enormous topee, then mopped his brows with an exceedingly red bandana handkerchief, and finally, with a start of surprise, stood up and stared back at the oncoming waves with every appearance of dismay. Dick heard him shout, and a moment later the tall, thin man had swept him to his seat again with an adroit movement of the arm.
“A stranger, evidently,” thought Dick. “He has never been in the surf before. The other man knows the ropes well, while the officers I recognise as old residents. Ah, they’ve started. The little fat beggar doesn’t like it.”
The stout man evidently felt some tremors, for he clutched at the side, pushing his head in between two of the kroo men, till his companion, seeing that he was in the way, dragged him back and spoke sharply to him. After that he remained as if rooted to his seat, staring at the wave which followed, and shuddering as the boat was lifted to the summit of a crest, and again as she as quickly slid back into the abyss behind. A shriek escaped him as the craft slowly receded, while the harder the paddles worked and their leader shouted, the more did the terror of the unaccustomed situation seem to fill this little stranger. A moment later a shout from Dick and a chorus of yells attracted the attention of those ashore. They turned to find the boat gone. She had been completely engulfed by the following wave, and for a minute nothing but seething water could be seen. Then a black arm shot up, and later