A Queer Race: The Story of a Strange People — page 189: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

186 A QUEER RACE, They fight like fiends—as only men made desperate by fear can fight, neither giving nor taking quarter. It is man against man, sword against spear, and as we hack, and hew, and stab, thick smoke rolls over our heads. The fire is close behind us. But for Oliver and his companions we should never have got through. ‘They plied the enemy with arrows, then charged; and the Cariberoes, taken between two fires, were forced back, so that after a short yet fierce struggle, we gained our point—those of us who survived; for many had fallen, and all were wounded. The poor Caribs perished to a man. ‘They were the last to start, and came up only as the Cariberoes, whose numbers increased every moment, were making one final and frantic attempt to drive us through the gap into the sea, We did our best to rescue them; but owing: to the nature of the ground we could sally out only a few at a time, and so failed utterly. Though the Caribs in their extremity fought with frantic desperation, they fell like corn before the reaper, and the fight went on until the fighters, looking more like demons than men, were well- nigh inclosed in a ring of fire. hen, throwing down their weapons, they broke and fled—some making for the wood, others for the cliff. ‘‘They cannot escape, do as they will!” said Oliver Fane, half exultingly, half pitifully. ‘‘If they go down the cliffs they will break their necks; and before they can get through the wood it will be all in a blaze. The Cari- beroes will trouble us no more, Mr. Erle.” “If we could only have saved those poor Caribs——~” Just then the fire swept up both sides of the gap, fill- ing it with smoke and sparks, and overcome with the heat and foul air (for we were packed like herrings in a bar- rel), the pain of my wounds, and loss of blood, I went off in a dead faint. ) CHAPTER XXX. AFTER THE FIGHT. It is nearly a month since the battle of Wynter’s Hill, and I am lying with my head bandaged and one of my arms in a sling, in Queen Mab’sownroom. Though con- valescent, I am still very weak, my hurts having been Geom G yoo) KS) (E(0)