I stood up, all eyes on me, Gezo chattering and bouncing up and down on his stool. I drew a bead on one of the skull bricks and fired; it kicked like blazes, but I thumbed back the hammer smartly and loosed off the next four shots in quick time. Five gaping holes were smashed in the wall, with splinters flying all over the place, the mob roared, Gezo beat his fists on his knees with excitement, and even the Amazons put up their knuckles to their mouths; my own pipsey-popsey with the white turban stared at me roundeyed.
Then Spring called up one of our seamen, who carried a case, and when he opened it there were the five other Colt pistols; Gezo slobbered and squealed at the sight of them, but Spring wouldn't hand them over — he had more guts than I'd have had with that blood-stained maniac mowing and yelling at me. They whispered away again, and then Gezo rolled his eyes shifty-like at the Amazons, summoned my girl, and mumbled orders to her. She didn't bat an eyelid, but snapped a command to six of her wenches. They grounded their spears like guardsmen, put by their cleavers, and then stood forward. Gezo yammered at them, one of them said something back, Gezo yelled at them, and from the ranks of all the other Amazons there was something like a gasp and a murmur, which rose to a growl; they didn't like what was happening, and Gezo had to stand up and bawl at them until they were quiet.
I didn't like the look of this; you could feel the anger and hatred welling up all round us. But Spring just snapped shut the case, handed it to Gezo, and then turned to us.
"Mr Kinnie," says he, "the palaver is finished. Form up round these six women; we're getting out of here." Then he tipped his hat to Gezo, who was sitting back on his stool, looking d––d peevish, and clutching his case. Our fellows had turned to face the crowd, who were milling closer beyond the ranks of the Amazons; it was beginning to look ugly, but Spring just marched ahead, bulldog fashion, the Amazons stepped back smartly to let him go, and with our six black beauties in our midst we followed after. Two of the girls hesitated, looking round over their shoulders, but my Amazon lady, standing beside Gezo's throne, shouted to them, and they dropped their heads meekly and marched on with us.
By jove, it was a long minute's walk to the gate of the stockade, through the double file of those black Amazon furies, their faces sullen with anger and grief at the sale of their fellows, while the great crowd of townsfolk roared in protest behind them. But the discipline of those women warriors was like iron; the king had said, and that was that — mind you, if Gezo had run for president at that moment, he wouldn't have had my money on him, but even so, no one in that whole town was bold enough to gainsay him.
We were moving d–– d smartly by the time we reached the stockade, a tight knot of men with our needle guns at the ready, and the women being jostled along in the middle. Spring was first at the gate, where he stopped and hurried us through, I stood close by him; his jaw was tight and he was as near scared as I ever saw him.
"Hurry, b—-t you!" he shouted. "D—n that Gezo, to haggle so longs and d—n those women — I didn't think they'd raise such a bother about the business. Straight ahead, Mr Kinnie, and keep those six sluts close, d'you hear?" Then to me: "Come on!"
"Wait!" say I — it was instinctive, believe me; I'd no wish to linger, not with that growling mob behind me. But I'd noticed the little ferrety cabin boy was missing. "Where the h—l is he?"
"Back there!" snaps Spring. "He's senseless with nigger beer — Gezo wanted him — wanted a white slave! Come on, d—n you, will you stand there all day?"
I'm not shocked easy, but that took me flat aback — for about the tenth part of an instant. If Spring wanted to trade his cabin boy to a nigger king, it was all one to me; I was into the fringe of the jungle a yard ahead of him, and then we were running, with the others in front of us, the Amazons being driven along, one of 'em wailing already. Behind us the hubbub of the town was cut off by the dense foliage; we hustled down the path, but you don't run far in that climate, and soon we had to slow down to a trot.
"Well enough, I think," says Spring. He stopped for a moment to listen, but there was nothing except the jungle noises and the sobbing of our own breathing. "I didn't like that," says he, addressing no one in particular. "By G-d, I didn't! If I'd known they were so d––d jealous of their fighting wenches … Phew! It's the last time I deal with Gezo, though. Quid violentius aure tyranni?*[* What is more dangerous than having the ear of a tyrant? — Juvenal.] For a moment I'd a notion he would change his mind — and keep the pistols, which would have been short shrift for us." He laughed, and the mad pale eyes blinked. "On, there, Mr Kinnie! Mr Comber, keep a sharp eye on the prisoners! Back to that boat in double time, my lads, before his majesty thinks better of his bargain!"
We pushed on down the narrow trail, and we must have been half-way to the river when Spring stopped again, listening. I strained my ears; nothing. Just the chickering of the forest beasts and birds. Spring called to the fellows to be quiet, and we all listened. Spring turned his head from side to side, and then I heard Kirk say: "Wot the h—l we standing here for? If there's anything to hear, then the sooner we're in that boat the better."
"There's nuthin' behind us," says another, uneasily.
"Silence!" snaps Spring. He was peering through the foliage at the side of the path. I found my heart racing, and not just with exertion — if we were pursued, they couldn't have outflanked us, through that swamp and jungle, surely. We would have heard them — and then I remembered Kirk saying: "They can move in dead silence when they wants to."
"For G-d's sake!" I whispered to Spring. "Let's get on!"
He ignored me. "Mr Kinnie," he called softly. "D'you hear anything to port?"
"No, cap'n," sings back Kinnie, "there's noth —"
The end of that word was a horrid scream; in terror I stared down the path, and saw Kinnie stagger, clawing at the shaft in his throat before tumbling headlong into the mangrove. Someone yelled, a musket banged, and then Spring was thrusting forward, bawling:
"Run for it! Keep on the path for your lives. Run like h—l!"
His order was wasted on me-I was running before he had started thinking, even; someone screamed in front of me, and a black shadow leaped on to the path — it was an Amazon, swinging a machete; one of the seamen caught it on his musket, and dashed the butt into her face. She went down, shrieking, and as I leaped over her my foot landed on her bare flesh; I stumbled, but went careering on. The vision of those two naked black fiends slashing a man to death was before my eyes, and the crash of shots and yelling behind me urged me on. I fairly flew along that trail.
And by gum, I wasn't alone. They say sailors are poor runners, but that landing party from the Balliol College could move when they wanted to; we stampeded along that twisting path, elbowing each other aside in our panic to get away from the horror in the jungle on either side. They were screaming their war cries now, those terrible black sows; once a spear flashed past in front of my face, and I believe a couple of arrows buzzed above our heads, and then I tripped and fell headlong, with the others trampling over me.
I thought I was done for, but when I scrambled to my feet I saw we were on the edge of the clearing by the river. The fleetest of our party was tearing aside the branches where our canoe was hidden, the man who had been left on guard was on one knee, aiming his musket; it banged, and I turned to see an Amazon fall shrieking not ten yards from me, her cleaver bouncing along to land at my feet. Instinctively I grabbed it, and then a flying body knocked me sideways. Some of our fellows were firing from the water's edge; as I scrambled up I saw an Amazon on her knees, clutching her side with one hand as she tried vainly to hurl her spear with the other. Close by me was Spring, bawling like a madman; he had his pepper-pot revolver in one hand, firing back towards the path, and by G-d, with the other he was trying to drag along one of the Amazons he'd bought. The man's dedication to scholarly research was incredible.