The boats were but fifteen yards from the bank.
When they were abreast Ammon Quatia shouted the word
of command, and a stream of fire shot out from the
bushes. In the boats all was confusion.
Several were killed and many wounded by the deadly
volley, among the latter Commodore Commerell himself,
and two or three of his officers. The launch
now attempted to turn round, and the marines in the
boats opened fire upon their invisible foes, who replied
steadily. In five minutes from the first shot
being fired all was over, the launch was steaming
down with the boats in tow towards the mouth of the
river, the exulting shouts of the natives ringing
in the ears of those on board.
The position of Frank had not been a pleasant one
while the fight had lasted, for the English rifle
bullets sang close to him in quick succession, one
striking the tree only a few inches above his head.
He was doubtful, too, as to what his fate would be
at the termination of the fight.
Fortunately Ammon Quatia was in the highest spirits
at his victory. He ordered Frank to be at once
unbound.
“There, you see,” he said, “the
whites are of no use. They cannot fight.
They run with their eyes shut into danger. So
it will be if they attack us on the land. You
were foolish. Why did you wish to call out?
Are you not well treated? Are you not the king’s
guest? Am I not your friend?”
“I am well treated, and you are my friend,”
Frank said, “but the English are my countrymen.
I am sure that were you in the hands of the English,
and you saw a party of your countrymen marching into
danger, you would call out and warn them, even if you
knew that you would be killed for doing so.”
“I do not know,” the Ashanti said candidly.
“I cannot say what I should do, but you were
brave to run the risk, and I’m not angry with
you. Only, in future when we go to attack the
English, I must gag you to prevent your giving the
alarm.”
“That is fair enough,” Frank said, pleased
that the matter had passed off so well, “only
another time do not stick me upright against a tree
where I may be killed by English bullets. I had
a narrow escape of it this time, you see,” and
he pointed to the hole in the trunk of the tree.
“I am sorry,” the Ashanti general said,
with an air of real concern. “I did not
think of your being in danger, I only wished you to
have a good sight of the battle; next time I will
put you in a safer place.”
They then returned to the camp.
The next day a distant cannonade was heard, and at
nightfall the news came that the English fleet had
bombarded and burnt several Elmina villages at the
mouth of the Prah.
“Ah,” the general said, “the English
have great ships and great guns. They can fight
on the seaside and round their forts, but they cannot
drag their guns through the forests and swamps.”
“No,” Frank agreed. “It would
not be possible to drag heavy artillery.”
