Page:Once a Week June to Dec 1863.pdf/314

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304
ONCE A WEEK.
[Sept. 5, 1863.

band of wild cats from the woods, terrible of aspect and having claws six inches long.

Then putting himself at their head, the King led them forth to invade the territory of the enemy. I had interest at court, and got a snug berth in the victualling department.

Four nights we marched, an advanced guard of 2000 leading the way, and skirmishers and foraging parties scouring the country and robbing the larders, while our main body, consisting of 20,000 well-clawed and active cats, marched in close order, their tails rustling in the breeze.

The King of the Blacks, hight Katerwolly, was not idle meantime. When he heard of the violent death of the Prince of the Tortoiseshells, he first of all caused the perpetrators of the deed to be tied together in pairs by their hind legs, and hung over the branches of a tree, to tear themselves to death, as a punishment for the row they had got him into, and then set about preparing for the defence of his kingdom.

And very quickly he raised a large force, drawn from the moors and fells of Yorkshire.

With these, to the number of nearly 30,000, he hastened to meet his opponent, and about the middle of one fine day the skirmishers on either side met on Sunderland Moor, and, after a little desultory scratching, fell back upon their main bodies; and the two forces remained opposite to each other until night set in.

I, being a non-combatant, was left in the rear with the baggage; and heartily I congratulated myself on the arrangement. Indeed, since our setting out, I had been exceedingly comfortable, and had come in for some nice little pickings; for if a fellow, after being away all day foraging, brought back, among other things, a nice plump sparrow, or other dainty, which he naturally wished to reserve for himself, a quiet hint to me, accompanied by a modest share of the dainty, procured my silence.

So, being, as I said, left in the rear, I made a light supper, and then looked about for some favourable point from which to view the fight. I soon found a suitable tree, and scrambled up it, taking with me a trifling snack in case I should feel hungry, and then settled myself among the leaves.

About 8 o’clock at night the fight commenced by a party of blacks stealing through the long grass, and surprising a company of our fellows who held possession of the top of a long wall. I daresay I could have given timely notice of the attempt, but then I was so comfortably fixed, and unwilling to encounter the fatigue of scrambling up and down my tree:—so I kept quiet. In a short time they neared the wall, and sprang on it so suddenly that our tortoiseshells were tumbled off it with scarcely a scratch being given on either side.

Then the fight became general, for the wall was an important post, and each party poured in reinforcements, and the wall was taken and retaken, and lost and won, over and over again. The mass of combatants looked like the sea in a storm; they surged and rolled, and heaved and gyrated. They reared on end, and wrestled, and clawed, and bit. They bounded over each other, and got locked in inextricable knots of claws and tails and fluff. The hair rose and floated over the field in clouds, so that in some places the combatants could be but dimly seen, while the cold white moon looked grimly down upon the bloody scene. By this time, many a stout tom lay prone in the dust, and the weary troops on either side were fain to pause awhile, and watch each other with arched backs and quivering tails. This was the moment chosen by our sly old king to play his grand move. He had kept in reserve his band of wild cats, curbing their impatience, and watching the fluctuations of the struggle, and now, marshalling them, he gave the word to charge, and headed them in person. It was a sight I shall never forget. With a savage yell the mountaineers sprang forward with tails erect; and as they brushed against each other the electricity thus generated rushed in a cloud of sparks from their upraised tails. They fell like a thousand of bricks on the foe, hurling them back in masses by their very weight. The blacks, I must say, fought gallantly, and the battle became fierce and deadly. Not a sound was heard but the ripping and craunching of claws and teeth, or the wail of some strong tom in his last extremity. Our mountaineers, however, had turned the scale, and the blacks were playing a losing game. In many parts of the field they were utterly broken, and as I fancied it would soon be over I sat down to refresh myself with the wing of a chicken. Looking up for a moment, judge my surprise and dismay to see, coming rapidly from the south, a large force of “Brindles.”

King Katerwolly of the Blacks had been politic enough to form an alliance with the “Brindles,” whenever hostilities appeared unavoidable, and they had intended to have been on the field much earlier, but had, I heard afterwards, been delayed in consequence of having to take a somewhat circuitous route to avoid a force of hostile dogs that lay in wait to worry them.

We were now far outnumbered. The new comers, who were fresh, and, moreover, had been starving for two days, threw themselves into the thick of the fight. Our mountaineers fought as only wild cats can, but to no purpose. Each one became the nucleus for a bunch of famished brindles, who clawed and tore and spit to such good purpose, that our wild allies were literally eaten off their legs. Their defeat was the turning point of the day. Our other troops, who had up to this time been steady enough, lost heart and wavered. The wall was in the hands of the foe, whose tails waved triumphantly from its summit. I saw that it was all up, and cut as hard as I could, and just in time, too, for a body of the Brindles fell upon our provender. Their cries over the eatables attracted the rest and the Blacks, and under cover of the diversion, our leader drew off the tattered remnant of his forces, and beat a hasty retreat.

Sadly we returned to our homes, much reduced in numbers, and leaving many a housewife’s hearth desolate; for the bones of her faithful Tortoiseshell were left to bleach on the fatal moor.

Our King died soon after of a broken heart and the loss of one eye. Many of our troops became