Chapter VII: Part 7

Here a prolonged, and painful shivering fit took possession of Hughes, gradually and rapidly increasing to such an extent, as soon to incapacitate him even from talking. That night the pulse was beating at a fearful pace, the temples throbbed nearly to bursting, and the terrible shivering fits shook his frame. The following day the brain was affected and the sufferer went once more through the scenes he had lately acted. The missionary dragged his cot to that of his sick comrade, and Captain Weber shared his watch, but the resources of the fort were very small, and but for his strong constitution the chances were against recovery.

The morning of the third day, there was a great bustle within the walls of the ruined fort. Weber came to say good bye. The Portuguese envoy had arrived from Tete, the agreement had been made, and the captain of the merchantman was to drop down the river that morning to finish his preparations.

Hughes was wandering, and did not know him. "It shall go hard but that you shall have your passage in the `Halcyon,' if he can bear it," said the skipper, the tears standing in his eyes as he pressed the missionary's hand. "An hour of the fresh breeze of the Indian ocean would do more to cooper up yonder craft than all the rubbish in the world. He's on his beam ends now, that's sure; but may be he'll be all a-tanto soon."

A knock at the door, and Don Francisco Maxara entered; an elderly, grey-haired man, tall in stature, and stately in bearing.

"I cannot say it is a pleasure, Senhor," began the old noble, as he bowed to the missionary, and made room for the merchant captain to pass, "but at all events it is a duty to place myself and all I have at your command."

Boiling restlessly from side to side, his handsome features, bronzed by the sun, now flushed with fever, Hughes was unconscious of their presence. He was with his corps cheering on his men as he had cheered them on the plains of Chillianwallah, the day the gallant 10th Regiment melted away before the masked fire from the Sikh artillery, when gliding through the open door and passing her arm through her father's, Dona Isabel de Maxara looked down on him.

Tall and graceful in figure, the girl's face, was of that beautiful clear brown tint, found only in the sunny south, but one of the peculiarities which distinguished her was the network of blue veins, tracing themselves under the transparent olive of the skin; the eyes were large and intensely brilliant, shaded now by the long black lashes, which, with the slightly arched and beautifully pencilled eyebrow, told of Moorish blood. The mouth was small and beautifully cut, the lips parted now and showing the white teeth; and if there was a fault in the features, it was that the forehead, with all its lace-work of blue veins glancing under the clear olive skin, was too high and massive for a female face. The hair was brushed backwards, fastened behind by a large comb, tipped with gold, from which hung the long mantilla of Spain.

The sick man saw nothing of all this, he was busy among the guns at Chillianwallah.

"How long, Senhor," said the girl, looking up at the missionary, and the large eyes filling as she did so with tears, which rolled one by one unheeded down her cheeks,--"how long has your friend been ill?"

"This is the third day, mademoiselle," replied he, speaking in French, both father and daughter having used that language. "Have you any quinine, Senhor?" he continued, addressing the father.

"Yes, at your service; but not having had any before, what have you been using?" replied the noble, taking the sick man's hands, and feeling his pulse.

"A drink made out of the kumbunga plant. It has cured me more than once."

"Wait," cried the girl, eager to be of use. "I will return in a moment," and she flew out of the room, showing as she moved the beautiful foot and ankle peculiar to the Portuguese.

The old noble shook his head as he let the arm he held fall on the bed-clothes.

"There, use that at once," said the breathless girl, as she returned with a small bottle filled with quinine. "And as soon as you can, get away from this terrible place."

"We will leave now, my daughter; we are but in the way. Later on we may be useful. Command me, Senhor," added the Portuguese; "whatever I have is at your service. I pray you do not spare me or mine."

With a stately wave of the hand, as though he were quitting a palace, instead of a poor barrack-room in a dilapidated fort, the nobleman passed on.

"You will let me know," said Isabel, pausing before she joined her father, and raising the large black eyes to the missionary's face--"you will let me know how your poor friend is." And with one more glance round the room, and at the wretched bed, she passed out.

Wyzinski stood looking at her. It seemed like a dream; but then there was the stoppered bottle of white powder in his hand to prove the reality. All that day, all that night, the missionary watched by the bedside. Towards midnight a heavy thunderstorm passed over the plains watered by the Zambesi. The air seemed blue with the forked lightning; the thunder rattled and roared over the fort, but the morning dawned calm and beautiful, and a cool breeze blew in at the open windows, bringing with it the sweet breath of the tamarind flowers. The quinine, too, had done its work; and the crisis which in the dreadful tertian fever of the Zambesi always occurs on the third day, had passed over favourably. These storms are of frequent occurrence in the land through which the Zambesi rolls its waters, and scarcely a week goes by without the thunder making itself heard round the dilapidated walls of Senna. Another of these periodical storms had just occurred, sweeping over the land, accompanied by torrents of rain, cooling the air, and refreshing the parched-up plains on the banks of the Zambesi. The river was high in consequence, rolling down branches and trees and quantities of driftwood past the brick walls of the crumbling fort. It has already been said that several small islands intersect the course of the river; and near one of these, not a stone's throw from the water-gate, two boats were moored, swinging to the stream. The one a large European-looking pinnace--though really built on the Zambesi after an English model--possessed a covered cabin aft, and was capable of holding some twenty people. The other was of smaller and lighter mould. From the island came the sounds of laughter and conversation.

Under the trellised creepers, through which the rays of the afternoon sun were shining, sat a party of Europeans. The water was bubbling up in a stone basin; the purple grapes were hanging in rich clusters from the vines; and there, doing the honours of the table with a gentle grace which showed a practised ease and knowledge of the world, sat Dona Isabel Maxara. Near her, half sitting, half reclining on some cushions, Captain Hughes seemed lost in contemplation of the fair girl. Still very weak, and much pulled down by the short but sharp attack of the deadly tertian, he had got it into his head that the quinine had saved his life; and perhaps it was not a very unpleasant thing to be beholden for life to so fair a physician. And so he gazed on the tall, graceful, and beautifully-turned figure, the head carried with that dignified swan-like movement peculiar to Spain and Portugal, the long black lace veil now thrown back and floating behind. The clear olive complexion was well set off by the crimson lips of the well-cut mouth, and the large coal black eyes, with their long lashes, well matched by the luxuriant tresses of jetty hair. As she rose to carry the small cup of coffee to the invalid, he certainly thought the life it pleased him to consider she had saved, could not have a better use than devotion to her; and when the fair Isabel stooped over the young soldier, and one long tress, of the raven hair touched his hand, raised to receive the cap, the rosy flush flew up into a cheek once browned by exposure, but paled now by illness.

At a table close by, the Portuguese envoy, Dom Francisco Maxara, sat playing at chess with the Commandant of Senna; the two, wholly absorbed in their game, exchanging a word only at intervals. The missionary was unpacking, showing, and repacking, the various skins and small animals he had managed to secure. The birds were singing in the bushes round about, and above all came the buzz of insect life, and the ceaseless roll of the broad Zambesi.

The soldier lay back on the cushions sipping his coffee, his eyes half shut, a pleasant feeling of indolence enervating his frame, as he gazed. "She is very lovely," he muttered; "and here am I, a captain of a marching regiment, allowing myself to fall in love with the daughter of a Portuguese grandee, whom I shall probably never see again."

"And this," continued Wyzinski, who seemed to have monopolised the conversation, "is it not a beautiful skin? Do you remember, Hughes, shooting this wild cat in the tree the morning of that terrible day among the Amatongas?"

"Indeed," replied the other, "I am little likely to forget it. I shall always think it was the excitement, and the prostration consequent on the hunt, which so nearly consigned me to an African grave."

"Tell me the tale," cried Isabel. "I long to hear your adventures among the tribes of the interior. It seems so strange for us to meet here on this great African river."

The conversation was carried on in French; and the soldier told of their travels; told how the baboon had first been found; how it had lived in the camp, and how it had died. The chess-players were disturbed by the silvery peals of laughter which rang round them as Hughes related, with some humour, the incident of the powder-flask; and Dona Isabel's dark eyes had been fixed for a long time on the speaker's face ere the tale was finished, and the sun sank beneath the horizon, the stars peeping out, while the fire-flies came floating around, and the cool puffs of the sea breeze swept across the river.

"Sing for us, Isabel," said Dom Francisco, as he checkmated his antagonist, at the same time rising and making him a stately bow.

Dona Isabel took her guitar, and the sweet tones of her voice rang out among the trellised vines and over the broad river, dying away on the plains beyond, where the howl of the jackal was just making itself heard.

"You will give me my revenge, Senhor Maxara," asked the Commandant.

"Nay, Dom Isidore, not possible--at least, until you do me the high honour of becoming my guest in our own land. We must leave to-morrow evening."

"And the Dona Isabel," asked Mujaio. "Is she, too, in such a hurry to leave Senna?"

"The Dona Isabel must abide by her father's decision," she replied; "but she may have a word to say to Dom Maxara on the subject."

Rising, Isabel took her father's arm, and leading him towards the river side, seemed to urge something, to which he would not consent.

"Impossible, Isabel; wholly so. The brig is an English trader, bound for the Cape, and takes us only as passengers. Her captain cannot delay beyond the stipulated day; but come, we will do our best."

"My daughter, Dom Isidore has been urging our stay at Senna for some days longer, but I am forced to say nay. You, gentlemen," continued the ceremonious old noble, bowing first to the missionary, then to the soldier, "seek to return to the Cape; will you so far honour my daughter and myself as to accompany us?"

The soldier's face flushed with pleasure. It was just what he could have desired. Wyzinski courteously declined, urging that they must wait until the "Alert" gun brig should touch at Quillimane, as they were without funds, and unable to pay their passage to the Cape.

A stately wave of the hand from Dom Francisco followed this matter-of-fact declaration, which wounded the soldier to the quick. He almost hated Wyzinski, and yet the determination had been come to that morning, on hearing of the advent of the "Alert."

"The brig `Halcyon' waits us at Quillimane," persisted the noble. "She is chartered by my government to convey me, its envoy, to the Cape, and can take no passengers, but is bound to receive my suite and guests. Will the senhors honour us by becoming the latter?"

"And you may, indeed, help us," interposed Isabel, fixing her dark eyes on the missionary. "What shall we do on board an English brig, with no one to understand us. But will not the senhor be too weak if we leave to-morrow?"

As she stood there, with the stars shining upon her, and the fire-flies playing like an aureole round her head, it occurred to Hughes that he was strong enough to follow her anywhere. The missionary looked at him inquiringly.

"Every day will bring me strength," he replied; "and I shall be very glad to get to the sea once more. Senhor Dom Francisco Maxara, I accept your kind and generous offer, with many thanks."

"And I also," joined in Wyzinski.

"Then, Senhor Commandant, we will start to-morrow evening. I shall leave my staff here until the surveys, estimates, and plans be completed, and you shall have your revenge when you come home."

"All shall be in readiness," replied Mujaio, as he took a whistle from his neck, and sounded a shrill call. A boat shot across the stream from the fort; the noise of the oars straining in the rowlocks was heard, and the bowman jumped ashore, holding the boat's painter in his hand.

"Good-night, gentlemen," said the noble. "I shall have much business to transact with the Senhor Commandant to-morrow, and may not see you. My daughter, Dona Isabel, will hope to have that pleasure in my absence. The smaller of the two boats allotted us you will look upon as yours."

Moving towards the river, his daughter on his arm, the stately Portuguese took off his broad-brimmed hat most courteously. Senhor Mujaio followed, having first handed the missionary the silver whistle.

"When you require the boat you have only to use this. Good-night, gentlemen."

A dark spot shot off from the bank into the starlight; the noise of the oars was again heard, and then the sound of a merry Portuguese air, in the chorus of which even the boatmen joined, though the soft, silvery female voice told who was the principal singer. Then the dark shadow thrown across the river received the boat, and all was silent. With a sigh of gratification, Hughes threw himself back on the cushions.

"Well, there is our future provided for," he ejaculated. "Who would have thought of meeting such a divine creature here, Wyzinski? Fancy such a jewel shut up in that crumbling old fort. Why, the Amatongas even could take it."

"There is a much more warlike tribe here to the north, named the Landeens, who have taken it more than once," replied the missionary.

"And might do so again," mused the other, "this very night."

"Don't you think you might utilise your light infantry education?" asked Wyzinski.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I mean if you were to run away, as you did from the hippopotamus."

"What, run away from the Landeens?"

"No, from the lady," laughed Wyzinski; "I think it would be the wisest plan."

"Don't be a fool, Wyzinski; I am not strong enough to bear chaffing."

"But quite strong enough to go down the stream--of course I don't mean the stream of life, but of the Zambesi--with Dona Isabel de Maxara?"

The captain of the gallant 150th did not reply, but fell into a musing mood. Some Portuguese cigarettes lay on the table near the chessmen. The night was cool; and it was pleasant, looking over the flowing river, and watching the twinkling lights flashing from the windows and embrasures of the fort. The cry of the jackal was heard from time to time; a distant splash told of the hippopotami; and then the moon rose, tinging the stream with its rays, and lighting up the islands on its bosom. The well-known conical hill of Baramuana became distinctly visible; and far away to the northward, the faint, ghostlike outline of the Morumbala range could with difficulty be traced; while the flat country round, closely covered with forest growth, looked like a dark blot in the moonlight. The lights twinkled and then went out in the fort; the noise in the wretched houses of Senna gradually ceasing.

"And what are your intentions, Wyzinski, on your arrival at the Cape?" asked Hughes, after a long silence.

"To organise a party; get the support of the English Government, if possible; but, whether or not, to return to the Amatonga, and by means of the ambition of their chief, Umhleswa, fully to explore the ruins now lying buried there. Will you join me?"

"No, Wyzinski; I have had enough of African life. I long for Europe and its civilisation."

"Say for Portugal and its water-melons, and I shall understand you better."

"Nay," answered the soldier, dreamily; "this fever has weakened me, and I have my regiment to think of. I must shake it off, or all hopes of advancement will be taken from me."

"You are quite right," replied the missionary. "Concentrate your thoughts on that, and don't think of the Dona Isabel; that haughty old noble would as soon dream of the sun for her bridegroom, as of a captain of the 150th."

The soldier sighed; and Wyzinski, using the whistle, the boat was soon once more at the island, and Senna, its fort, commandant, garrison, and guests, buried in deep sleep, even with the fear of the treacherous Landeens before their eyes.

Volume 2, Chapter I.

ELEPHANT HUNTING ON THE SHIRE RIVER.

Two boats have been mentioned as intended for the use of the party descending the Zambesi River. The one was a simple ordinary pinnace, but the second and larger boat had evidently been fitted out for special use, and was in fact that appropriated to the not unfrequent voyages of the commandants of the two forts of Tete and Senna. Pulling eight oars, its speed was considerable, when rowing, as in the present instance, down stream, and it was so broad in the beam as to be able to stow away luggage as well as passengers. A light wooden framework had been constructed, so as to fit on either gunwale aft, forming a cover something resembling that of a modern English wagonette, with windows let into the side. Divans and cushions served for seats, while handsome mirrors ornamented every spare corner, thus making of the roomy boat a pleasant sleeping place, enabling its occupants to escape the pest of mosquitos, incidental to the banks of the Zambesi.

Leaving Senna late, the party dropped lazily down the broad river. The moonlight was pleasant enough; and from time to time Isabel's voice, accompanying her guitar, rang out on the night air, while many a tale of European and African life whiled away the night. Morning dawned; the beams of the rising sun tipping the tamarind trees on the banks of the Shire as the grapnel was dropped under the lee of a small island, just where the river poured its waters into the Zambesi. The men were sent ashore to pitch a tent on the right bank, and thus night was turned into day on the bosom of the broad river. That afternoon the tent was standing under the shelter of a group of mashango trees, its canvas sides being raised to admit the air; and dinner, which, with its delicacies of fish and vegetables, seemed a banquet to men who had for so long been forced to live on venison, was served under its shade. Several bottles of Bordeaux stood under there, too, swathed in wet towels, just where the warm wind was the strongest, cooling by evaporation. In front, the river, now sweeping onward, a broad majestic stream, swollen by the waters of the Shire flowing from their sources in the vast watershed of central Africa to the north. Groups of cocoa-nut and palmyra grew here and there; the gum copal threw its shadow over the glancing water; and large ebony trees of monstrous growth, thickly covered with mantling creepers, bent over the stream. There, too, was the singular palm tree, to be met with often on the Shire, which sends up its stem, dividing many times, and each one forming a fan-like top of curiously cut leaves, like giant fingers to the hand of a Cyclops; and there was the prosopis tree, long known to the settler on the Shire's banks for the fitness of its wood for boat-building. Beyond lay the plain, one or two small kraals dotting it here and there, the patches of sugar-cane, maize, and banana showing tokens of unusual industry and civilisation. Cattle, too, were moving lazily about in the rich pasturage, or standing grouped under the shade, while far away the blue ridges of the Morumbala mountains closed the view. The day had been cool, and a slight breeze just blew out the folds of the heavy Portuguese flag, waving from the stern of the larger boat. Its cushions had been removed and placed inside the tent, and the guitar lay neglected on the ground, its fair owner listening to the soldier's tale of the Matabele hunt and the rhinoceros, as she twisted indolently the stalk of a splendid water-lily, gathered before landing. Between Dom Francisco and the missionary was the chess-board, but both were listening too attentively to pay much attention to the game; while the boatmen and attendants were seated in small knots round the tent discussing the remainder of the dinner, emptying half-empty bottles, or laughing, talking, and tale-telling in opposition to the parrots' screaming among the branches.

"But," said Isabel, as Hughes concluded the story, "your rhinoceros, dangerous as it was, is nothing to the animal of the same species, which we heard of at Tete, and which many affirmed they had seen."

"What is it?" eagerly asked Wyzinski, forgetting the game in his desire for information. "I once met a woman of the Makao tribe, who spoke of a strange species. Strange enough she was herself, with her upper lip pierced and ornamented by an ivory ring, a bark covering serving for petticoat, that and a necklace of bark for all clothing."

Reclining back on her cushions, the black mantilla drawn over her neck and bust, one tiny slippered foot just peeping from out of the folds of the light dress, Dona Isabel carried the pure white petals of the water-lily to her face, her large black eyes peeping over the flower contrasting strangely with its whiteness, but seeming herself too indolent to reply.

Puffing a long spiral stream of smoke from his mouth, the Portuguese noble answered for her.

"It is said, and implicitly believed by the natives, many of whom assert that they have seen it, that far away to the northward there exists a rhinoceros, carrying one single sharp pointed horn right in the centre of the forehead."

"The unicorn of old," interrupted Wyzinski.

"The unicorn of our fathers' tales," replied Dom Francisco, gravely bowing. "The animal is of immense strength and savage ferocity, say the natives. It is useless for man to contend with him, and any one who meets it may count on death."

"At all events he may take refuge in a tree, and wait until the animal goes away."

"It is said this rhinoceros will patiently bore with his sharp horn until he has broken the tree, and then kill the man; that he will work for days until his object be accomplished."

"See!" exclaimed Dona Isabel; "there are canoes coming up the river. What are they doing?"

There were at that moment four small boats rounding the island, just where the Shire discharged itself into the Zambesi, and their movements seemed eccentric enough to warrant the surprise expressed by Dona Isabel.

Independently of the rowers, one man stood erect in the bow of each canoe, holding in his hand an assegai, which from time to time he threw. As they neared the bank, a huge hippopotamus rose to the surface, and with a shout, the how man in the nearest canoe made his cast. The spear missed; but the second boat dashed up. Again the hippopotamus rose, and this time the assegai struck true.

"Why, it is exactly the way the Arctic seamen take the whales!" exclaimed Hughes.

A loud scream from Dona Isabel, as she started from her recumbent position, was heard. The hippopotamus had risen again, and with its great red mouth open, dashed in fury at the leading canoe.

The man in the bow seemed paralysed with fear, for he did not make a cast; the next moment the boat was floating bottom upwards, drifting with the stream, but the animal had received another assegai as he was in the act of striking the canoe.

As for its crew, they rose to the surface, and struck out for the bank, vigorously swimming like fishes, their comrades taking no notice of them. The hippopotamus seemed badly hurt now, for it rose again quickly, receiving another lance, and then, dragging itself on to the bank, fell from exhaustion and loss of blood, the natives giving a yell of triumph as they rowed up.

"Listen!" said Wyzinski, "that was a shout; here, down the river bank, to the right."

"And there comes the owner of the cry," replied Hughes; "he is a European, too, and well armed."

Dressed in a light calico suit of clothes, wearing a broad-brimmed Panama hat, and carrying a rifle in his hand, while a brace of pistols were stuck into a broad crimson Andalusian sash which encircled his waist, the owner of the shout, as Hughes had called him, rode up, followed by three mounted natives.

"The Senhor Dom Francisco Maxara?" inquired the new comer, raising his sombrero.

"The same, Senhor," haughtily returned the noble, rising and replying to the courtesy.

"I am Dom Assevedo, of Quillimane. I have a house at Nyangue, and am owner of a good deal of the land about here. Will the Senhor Maxara and his fair daughter (here the sombrero was again removed) condescend to consider my poor house at Nyangue their own for the period they may honour me by staying?"

"I thank you, Senhor, but it may not be. The `Halcyon' brig waits us at Quillimane, and I must needs say no. Isabel, can you not persuade the Senhor to join us?"

"At all events, I can offer him part of my cushions," replied the lady, "on condition he talks French, for Portuguese will not be understood by our guests."

"Ah, the two Englishmen whom I have heard of from the Limpopo. Perhaps you, gentlemen, will honour me with a visit?"

This, too, was impossible; and Wyzinski was in the act of explaining why, when a loud clamour was heard among the natives, who were busy on the sandy bank below cutting up the hippopotamus. The excitement seemed to communicate itself to the boatmen, and, walking to the entrance, Dom Assevedo called out, "Come here, Senhora, there is a sight seldom seen."

Looking down the stream, which was rolling slowly on its course towards the sea, between banks where the palmyra and cocoa-palms grew in clumps, seven elephants were swimming the river. With their trunks raised high in the air, and their huge black bodies rolling from side to side, the animals, notwithstanding their tremendous bulk, seemed to move with apparent ease and pleasure to themselves.

"They are heading right for the island at the mouth of the Shire!" exclaimed Hughes, all the spirit of the old shikaree reviving at the sight.

"Something must have terrified them," said Dom Assevedo; "perhaps the jungle has been fired in their rear."

"There they go--one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven, all on the island," counted Hughes.

Dona Isabel had stood, her hands clasped, her eyes fixed on the strange scene, a beautiful statue, the very model of mute astonishment.

"If they don't break out and take to the other bank, I can show you some sport, now," exclaimed Assevedo.

A few minutes of breathless watching followed, not a word being spoken, while the spiral wreaths of smoke curled up into the calm air from Dom Francisco's cigarette. All eyes were fixed on the island. Five minutes elapsed, lengthening into ten, and the elephants had not reappeared.

"Do any of you gentlemen speak Kaffir?" inquired Assevedo.

"I do," replied Wyzinski; "at least the Zulu tongue."

"Good; then do me the favour to go to the men on the river bank. Tell them you come from me, use my name, and let them get their boats together, and join us in our hunt. Senhor de Maxara, will you order your men to get your boat ready?"

"Surely you will take me with you?" asked Isabel.

"Fair Senhora, there is danger."

"And have I not seen the bull fights of Seville?" asked the girl, her eyes flashing fire. "Let me be able to say when I return to my country, that I have also seen the African elephant hunted."

"The animals are sure to take up the river banks for the forest land. If your boat is large enough to take my pony across, there can be no reason to say no," replied Assevedo.

The boat was found amply sufficient. A lady's side-saddle was rummaged out from the luggage; the rifles, of which there were no lack, loaded; and the whole party, embarked in four canoes and two boats, rowed across the river. At first they pulled up the stream, so as not to alarm the elephants, striking the opposite bank much higher than the mouth of the Shire. Landing, Dom Assevedo posted the men. The elephants, when disturbed, were certain to take to the water, swim the river, and enter the woods, which here stretched right away to the foot of the hills.

"Senhor Wyzinski, as you speak the Zulu tongue, will you take the canoes, and landing in rear of the elephants, make as much noise as possible, and fire the reeds if necessary."

"Senhor Inglesi, you are the younger man, will you look to the Senhora Isabel, while I and Dom Francisco take our post under yonder clump of trees."

Captain Hughes was in the act of ramming down a cartridge as he received the directions. The rifle was a heavy one, and by a lucky chance two of Devisme's explosive cartridges fitted the bore.

Dom Assevedo then explained to Isabel that, should the elephants come her way, she was to ride for the open, where she was perfectly safe, the animals not being fleet enough to overtake her, and they would be sure to make for the forest.

The loud cries of the natives were soon heard, and Hughes looked about him. The Shire river, on whose banks they were, was not broad, though it appeared deep. They stood facing the river, under a clump of cocoa-nut trees. To the right at a little distance lay the Zambesi, and behind them, distant about a thousand yards, began the forest, which seemed gradually to increase in density until it became nearly impenetrable. To the left a comparatively open country, with fields of maize and sugar-cane ripening in the sun. Some long reeds growing about ten paces to their front served as a screen.

Not a word was spoken, and as he stood by the pony's side, and looked up at its rider's slender, graceful figure, and beautiful face, the soldier felt the duty he had undertaken a pleasant one.

Isabel sat on her horse like a statue, her lips parted showed the white teeth, her eyes intently fixed on the island, and her face shaded from the sun by a flapped-hat with its broad brim.

Shouts and yells came floating on the air over the Shire river, sometimes very loud and eager, at others dying away, and at last a large black mass slowly approached to the water side. Isabel clasped her hands as the elephant waded into the river, ejaculating some words in her own language; but the great animal paused, looked over the Shire towards the opposite bank, and, whether suspecting clanger or not liking a second swim, it returned to cover.

And now a faint column of blue smoke shot up from the island, telling that Wyzinski had fired the bush; it thickened as the dry reeds caught fire, the red flame darted up at intervals, and heavy masses of smoke rolled away to leeward. The fire leaped merrily onward, making rapid progress, and soon a loud trumpeting was heard, as, plunging into the river, the elephants, terribly frightened, swam towards the opposite bank, their trunks raised in the air high above the water. They would evidently land within twenty paces of where Dona Isabel was posted.

"Tighten your bridle-rein, Dona Isabel," whispered the soldier, as he placed his hand on the snaffle. "Be ready. Here they come!"

"Madre de Dios!" ejaculated the astonished girl. "Oh! Santa Maria, how grand!"

Rolling about like seven huge porpoises, their backs, heads, and flapping ears above water, the elephants came on swimming in Indian file. The trunk raised straight up in the air gave to the black masses a strange look, while the tusks at times lowered sent the water in their front spurting into the air. Three out of the seven were males. They gained the bank, the water falling from them in sheets, and then they leisurely walked away for cover. One old male was some dozen yards behind the rest, and this elephant Captain Hughes singled out for himself. Landing, it stood for a second or two, the water dripping from its huge sides, looking curiously around. At this moment the loud reports of two rifles rang out from the forest, and the remaining elephant, alarmed, moved off in an oblique direction, which would bring it close to the spot where stood Dona Isabel and the soldier.

The former seemed quite stupefied with wonder as the great mass came onward at a trot, swinging its long trunk to and fro.

"Ride for your life, Dona Isabel!" said Hughes; "keep for the open, and ride hard."

Hughes loosed his hold of the reins, and the pony started off. Isabel, turning in her saddle, fixed her gaze on the elephant, and in so doing turned the pony's head right for the forest.

Hughes shouted loudly, but without effect; the girl, wholly absorbed with her astonishment, knew not her danger. For a second the elephant paused, then, trumpeting with rage, dashed after her.

The right moment had been lost. Captain Hughes, in his endeavours to make Isabel turn, had neglected it, and when he did raise his rifle to fire, the elephant was at forty paces distant, turned from him, and going at full speed. To level his rifle, aim, and fire, was the work of a second. The elephant slackened its pace, but only for a moment, the soldier, his rifle at the trail, dashing madly after it. On swept the pony at top speed, but the elephant gained on it. Isabel's hat had fallen, her long, jet-black hair was floating on the wind. The forest lay before her, through which she could not ride many paces; but she knew it not, for her gaze was still rivetted on the elephant. On they swept, the soldier dashing after them madly, shouting to her yet to turn for the open. The forest line was reached, and in a moment, swept from her saddle by the branches, Dona Isabel lay on the ground, the riderless pony dashing on. On, too, came the elephant, after the horse, trumpeting furiously. It passed over the prostrate form, its huge foot within an inch of the fair head, and the next moment its tusks were buried in the flanks of the agonised horse, which had been stopped by the forest undergrowth. Bearing it down, the huge elephant actually pinned the animal to the ground, where it held it impaled and writhing with agony, then deliberately kneeling on the bleeding carcass literally crushed it into a shapeless mass. Rising, the elephant turned from the dead pony, trumpeting once more as it saw lying on the ground, quite inanimate, the form of the rider. Dom Francisco and Assevedo were hurrying up, but were yet distant. They both fired, but the bullets served but to enrage still further the infuriated animal, as it came on, the blood dripping in large gouts from its reddened tusks. It was a race between it and the soldier--a race won by the man, as, breathless, and with only one barrel of his rifle loaded, he stood between the senseless Isabel and the charging animal. On it came, right upon him; if it passed it must tread down the fair girl's body. The thought gave him nerve, it steadied his hand as he aimed right for the centre of the forehead. The report rang out, the elephant halted suddenly, swaying from side to side, and then fell with a heavy thud. A loud shout from the two men advancing over the plain, and Hughes knew that Dona Isabel was safe. Throwing aside his now useless rifle, he knelt by her side, raising her on his arm, and leaning her head back against his knee; a small red stream was flowing from her forehead, and she had fainted.

"My child--my Isabel!" moaned the old man, forgetting his pride in his sorrow, as he threw himself by his daughter's side, panting and breathless.

"It is nothing, she has fainted. I go for water!" exclaimed Assevedo, as he hastened towards the river.

Slowly the blue veins beneath the clear olive skin began to beat again. Once more the eyes opened and closed. Hughes was busy sponging away the blood, which flowed rather freely, with a handkerchief. Dom Francisco and Assevedo, kneeling by Isabel's side, were using the cool water of the Shire river; and close beside them, its tusks red with blood, the enormous bulk of the dead elephant; while, fifty paces away--a crushed and unsightly mass--lay the pony.

Isabel opened her eyes, and seemed for a moment utterly astonished. "Santa Maria!" she ejaculated, "where am I?"

Then suddenly the whole affair seemed to flash on her memory, and, raising herself gently, she smiled.

"I was not frightened, only astonished," said the brave girl, as the red blood mantled in her cheeks. "Where is the elephant?"

"There," answered her father; "and you may thank the Senhor Capitano Inglesi that it lies there."

Isabel de Maxara turned--the dead animal with its gory tusks, and the shapeless mass which had been a horse, met her gaze. For a moment her face flushed, the red blood once more mantling richly under the clear olive skin; the next she grew deadly pale. "I thank you, senhor," she said as she looked full at the soldier and held out her hand, "I thank you for my life."

The rest of the party were standing by the elephant. Hughes clasped the long taper fingers, and looked into the black eyes, from which the tears were falling. For a moment they met the gaze, and then fell before his as he kissed the little hand held out to him.

"Your ball has shivered his head, Hughes," called out Wyzinski, but the soldier paused a moment to thrust into his bosom a blood-stained pocket-handkerchief before he joined them.

The second ball, a heavy conical one, had penetrated the skull before bursting, making a frightful hole, and blowing the head to pieces; a second severe wound, behind the shoulder, showing where the first had struck.

The elephant was a very large one, and was the only one out of the seven secured.

"And now, gentlemen, let us leave the cutting up to the natives. You can scarcely refuse my late request now, after what has passed, if it is only that Dona Isabel needs rest."

"If we comply I must make a condition, namely, that you send a messenger to Quillimane, to warn Captain Weber of the delay, and it must not be for more than twenty-four hours."

"Agreed, and now for the boats and my house at Nyangue," cheerfully exclaimed Assevedo.

"Senhor Inglesi, I thank you most heartily and sincerely," said the old noble, taking off his hat, bowing, and grasping the soldier's hand warmly in his own. "You have earned our eternal gratitude at the peril of your life."

"Don't you think a light infantry movement and a timely retreat would be a brilliant evolution?" whispered the missionary, as he passed Hughes. "I don't mind backing the flavour of the water-melons of Portugal against the custard-apples of India."

"Nonsense. Just mind your own business," replied Hughes, as he picked up the discharged rifle, shouldered it, and joined the party on the Shire's bank.

Volume 2, Chapter II.

THE "HALCYON."

The coast of Africa, as seen from the sea, is never very prepossessing; and the sandy spit of land, with the equally sandy bar, which obstructs the entrance to the Zambesi at Quillimane, is no exception to the rule, while the banks of the river are low and flat, dotted here and there with tall cocoa-palms, and haunted by alligators. The town itself, or rather village, for it can hardly boast of any more sounding name, consists of a few better-class houses, one of which was owned by Dom Assevedo, and a number of half-ruinous huts and sheds. The anchorage is unsafe, and often untenable, while the low-lying land is a hot-bed of fever. Outside the bar, her two anchors down, the blue peter at her fore, and the English Union Jack floating at her gaff, rode the brig "Halcyon." She was a rakish-looking craft, her long low black hull rising on the waves, and showing from time to time her bright clean copper as she rolled. Her masts raked slightly off, her sharp bows and sides round as an apple, told the seaman at once that she must be a dry ship, and her breadth of beam, if needed, attested the fact. Every bit of brass work on board was as usual rubbed bright as gold, every rope was carefully coiled down, and her decks white as snow. The "Halcyon" would not, in fact, as she rode to her anchors off the bar at Quillimane, have disgraced herself, even had she been, as she once was, her Majesty's gun brig "Torch."

Sold out at a time when the system of steam was rapidly changing the aspect of the navy, the "Torch" was nearly new. Bought by a Liverpool firm, she had been thoroughly overhauled and fitted out for a three years' cruise on the African coast, trading in ivory, gold dust, and ostrich feathers.

Captain Weber, an old sailor of thirty years' standing, commanded and partly owned her, and on such a voyage of course great latitude had been allowed him.

His three years' trading voyage ended, and bound for the Cape, but intending once more to touch at Delagoa Bay, he had been induced to delay his departure in consideration of the handsome sum offered by the Portuguese nobleman returning from his tour of inspection of the stations on the Zambesi.

Captain Weber, as has been already mentioned, was a middle-sized stout built man, with a reddish mahogany-coloured face, and long grey hair. He was proud of his brig, lived for her, and believed in her capabilities to an unlimited extent. His first-mate, Thomas Blount, was a young man for his station in life, rather tall, and, as we have already seen, fond of dress. The two were leaning over the bulwarks, looking towards the land, one afternoon, three days after the events just narrated. The crew, which was a strong one, consisting of twenty hands, all told, were between decks.

"Our passengers should arrive this afternoon. Dom Assevedo's messenger said so, did he not, Captain Weber?"

"Yes, and that haze to the southward and eastward tells of a blow. It will be a foul wind for us. We must make sail before sunset, Mr Blount."

"I think," remarked the younger man, "I see a boat crossing the bar, there, right over that Madras fellow's stern."

"Well, I hope it may be them. We have more fever on board than I care to see, and I hate this hot, unhealthy hole. Rouse up the watch, Mr Blount, and heave short at once."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the mate, touching his cap, round which ran a narrow strip of gold lace, and moving away.

The captain remained where he was, watching the black specks, for there were three of them, rising and falling on the waves outside Quillimane bar. The decks of the brig were no longer deserted, and the shipping of the capstan bars told that the orders just given were being carried out.

"Bring to, starboard cable," called the first officer from the quarter-deck.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the ready response, for the seamen were tired of riding at anchor off the bar, and the click of the capstan, as they stamped round to a merry tune of the flute, was music to officers and men alike.

"Up and down, sir," was the cry of the second mate, who on the forecastle was superintending the duty of heaving up the anchor, and which term meant that the brig was right over her anchor.

"Heaving away, sir," came again the cheering shout, as the anchor left the ground and the men strained every nerve to run the heavy mass up to the brig's bows.

The flute rang out a merrier tune, round and round went the capstan bars, then came the second officer's loud shout of "Heaving in sight, sir," as the men suddenly stopped in their merry round.

"Cat and fish the anchor, Mr Lowe. Bring to the port cable. Heave short," were the brief words of command from the quarter-deck.

"All ready with the cat, sir," was the responsive shout, soon followed by the customary words, "All ready with the fish, sir," while the men, the starboard anchor being got on board, duly secured, or, in more nautical terms, catted and fished, clapped on the port or remaining anchor, which now alone held the brig, gently rolling to the swell, and that in its turn being soon up and down, Mr Blount reported to his superior officer.

"Do you make out the boats, sir?" he added, as Captain Weber still remained looking towards shore.

"Ay, ay," replied the seaman. "There's Dom Assevedo's barge, the lubberly Portuguese blowing and puffing like grampus at their oars."

"Rig out a tackle from the main yard. We shall have to hoist the lady in, and perhaps the Dom too, like a bale of cotton."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the mate.

"Make sail, Mr Blount; brace up the headyards. Let me know when you are ready."

Ten minutes later the passengers were on board, and Dom Assevedo's barge veered astern.

"It's rather hard I can't speak to my lady passenger," said Weber, as he went down below with the party.

"Tell him I can understand English, though I am afraid to speak it," said Isabel in French to Hughes, who was by her side.

"Ay, ay, my pretty one, we'll soon take the shame-faced-ness out of you; nothing like blue water for doing that. Well, you tell the Dom that I'll send all his traps below. Senhor Assevedo, I can't give you much law," said the old seaman, in his rough hearty tones, as he turned to return to his post. "Steward, show the lady her berth. Look alive, man," he continued, calling down the hatchway.

The brig was now riding at single anchor, the headyards braced up one way, her afteryards the other, her sails flapping heavily.

"Heave away, my lads, heave away with a will," shouted Weber, the moment his foot touched the quarter-deck, and the remaining anchor was soon hove up, and properly stowed away on board. "Brace round the headyards. Let fall the fore course. Take a pull at the bowlines, Mr Blount. Touch her with the wheel, Adams, she will come up a couple of points yet," were the rapid words of command, and the "Halcyon" moved through the water on a taut bowline, heading nearly her course.

"A pleasant voyage to you," said Dom Assevedo, as he bent over Isabel's hand in the cabin.

"Below there!" came in the captain's rough tones, "tell the Senhor Assevedo that if he don't want to see the Cape, he had better get on board his barge. The tow-rope won't hold on long, I'm thinking."

Heartily shaking hands with all, the Portuguese gentleman, whose name and kindly nature are well known to men of every nation trading on the Zambesi, stepped over the side, the boat's painter was cast off, a last good bye shouted in Weber's stentorian voice, and the "Halcyon," with all sail set, to her royals, was soon standing off the bar, the bubbles flying past her rounded counter, as she slipped through the water at the rate of sonde six knots an hour.

Towards sunset the wind fell, and the brig began to lose her way. The stars came out shining through a thin haze, and sail after sail flapped against the masts, filling for a moment, then collapsing again, until soon the "Halcyon" lay rolling on the gentle swell, her cordage rattling, her blocks and tackles striking against her spars and rigging, her hull groaning, and her sails perfectly useless, not having even steerage way.

Leaning over the bulwarks, and looking towards the land, the faint outline of which could still be discovered about ten miles distant, Hughes was conversing with the captain.

"You think, then, we shall have wind?" he asked.

"I am sure of it," replied Weber; "look at the double halo round the moon, look at the sickly, watery appearance of the clouds, look at that fog-bank away to the southward. We shall have plenty of wind before morning."

"And from what direction?"

"Dead against us," replied the seaman; "we want to run to the south, and the wind will blow from that quarter."

"You have a beautiful craft, Captain Weber, and one I know can show weatherly qualities."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the captain, slapping his hand down on the bulwark, "I love every stick the jade carries, every rope-yarn aboard of her; while I am at sea, she is wife and children to me. Do you hear the wind sighing aloft? You would do well to persuade the lady to turn in."

Wyzinski, Dom Francisco, and Isabel were walking on the quarter-deck deeply engaged in conversation, and enjoying the freshness of the night.

"I did not think I should ever look back to the Zambesi with pleasure," said Isabel, as Hughes joined the party; "but really, the unostentatious hospitality we received from Senhor Assevedo will always be remembered by me. It is a magnificent river, and I am sure must be fully half a mile wide in some parts. The coolness of the air, too; I never thought to see European vegetables, such as peas and cabbages, growing side by side with the mango and banana."

"Ah, with its plains of wild cotton, which no one takes the trouble to cultivate, its sugar-canes, indigo, and droves of splendid cattle, the country bordering on the Zambesi might be a very rich one," said Wyzinski.

"Which, otherwise worded, means if the colony belonged to the English instead of the Portuguese, Senhor," tartly remarked Dom Francisco.

"Not so, Senhor de Maxara; the English in South Africa have failed in many things, as regards colonisation, nor could I be guilty of such a thought."

"The object of my mission is to draw up a report as to the capabilities of the land, and I hope a new day may now dawn for the Portuguese colonies in South Africa," said the noble. "The country is rich in mineral products. Cattle and animals of all kinds abound in the plains, while coal, gold, iron, and copper could be procured for the labour of taking them," he continued; "but that is Captain Weber, is it not, leaning over the bulwarks; will you go with me, Senhor, and serve me as interpreter? I wish much to thank him for the arrangements he has made for our comfort."

Hughes thus left with Dona Isabel, a silence ensued. The sails were banging loosely in the brails, flapping against the masts, for the night was perfectly calm, but still there was the never ceasing throb of the ocean, causing the brig to roll lazily, the cordage and blocks to strain and creak, the studding sail booms to rattle, and the timbers of the stout brig herself to groan and moan.

"I was wondering, Senhora," said Hughes, breaking the silence at last, "what made you think of a voyage to so remote a region as Africa?"