



Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Land of Fire, by Captain Mayne Reid.

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As we are told in the Preface, this is the last book Reid wrote before
his death in 1883.  A young farm-boy walks down to Portsmouth, a port
not too far away, and eventually gets taken on as a hand on an American
barque, trading with the Pacific.  Four years later he has risen to be
second mate.  But when rounding Cape Horn a severe storm overwhelms the
vessel, and she is lost after springing a very bad leak.  All on board
take to the boats, but the pinnace gets separated from the gig, on which
our heroes have made their escape.  The ship's carpenter, an old and
experienced seaman, a former whaler, has an extraordinary amount of
knowledge of the natives of Tierra del Fuego--the Land of Fire--for that
is where they are.  Without that knowledge the party would not have
survived.  Unfortunately this great seaman (somewhat after the style of
Masterman Ready) does not speak in educated English, but you will just
have to get used to that.

There are various encounters with the tribes of the region, all very
well told.  Eventually, shortly after their most serious brush with the
locals, they reach a large vessel at anchor, and the pinnace alongside
her, so that they are saved.

Reid, being a good naturalist, tells us a good deal about the local
flora and fauna.  We also learn how to make fire in a land where it
rains five days in six.  His account of the local tribes, their skills
and their shortcomings, will give you much food for thought.  And the
book makes a very nice audiobook.

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THE LAND OF FIRE, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.



PREFACE.

This tale is the last from the pen of Captain Mayne Reid, whose stories
have so long been the delight of English boys.  Our readers may,
perhaps, like to know something of the writer who has given them so much
pleasure; especially as his own life was full of adventure and of brave
deeds.

Mayne Reid was born in the north of Ireland in 1819; his father was a
Presbyterian minister, and wished that his son should also be a
clergyman; but the boy longed for adventure, and to see the world in its
wildest places, and could not bring himself to settle down to a quiet
life at home.

When he was twenty years old he set out on his travels, and, landing at
New Orleans, began a life of adventure in the prairies and forests of
America--good descriptions of which were given by him in his books.

In 1845 a war broke out between the United States and Mexico, and young
Reid instantly volunteered his services to fight on the United States'
side.

He received the commission of lieutenant in a New York regiment, and
fought all through the campaign with the most dauntless courage.  He
received several wounds, and gained a high reputation for generous good
feeling.

The castle of Chapultepec commanded the high road to the city of Mexico,
and as it was _very_ strongly defended, and the Mexicans had thirty
thousand soldiers to the American six thousand, to take it was a work
requiring great courage.

Reid was guarding a battery which the Americans had thrown up on the
south-east side of the castle, with a grenadier company of New York
volunteers and a detachment of United States' marines under his command.
From thence he cannonaded the main gate for a whole day.  The following
morning a storming party was formed of five hundred volunteers, and at
eleven o'clock the batteries ceased firing, and the attack began.

Reid and the artillery officers, standing by their guns, watched with
great anxiety the advance of the line, and were alarmed when they saw
that half-way up the hill there was a halt.

"I knew," he said in his account, "that if Chapultepec was not taken,
neither would the city be; and, failing that, not a man of us might ever
leave the Valley of Mexico alive."  He instantly asked leave of the
senior engineering officer to join the storming-party with his
grenadiers and marines.  The officer gave it, and Reid and his men at
once started at a swift run, and came up with the storming-party under
the brow of the hill, where it had halted to wait for scaling ladders.

The fire from the castle was constant, and very fatal.  The men
faltered, and several officers were wounded while urging them on.
Suddenly Reid, conspicuous by his brilliant uniform, sprang to his feet,
and shouted, "Men, if we don't take Chapultepec, the American army is
lost.  Let us charge up the walls!"

The soldiers answered, "We are ready."

At that moment the three guns on the parapet fired simultaneously.
There would be a moment's interval while they reloaded.  Reid seized
that interval, and crying "Come on," leaped over the scarp, and rushed
up to the very walls.  Half-way up he saw that the parapet was crowded
with Mexican gunners, just about to discharge their guns.  He threw
himself on his face, and thus received only a slight wound on his sword
hand, while another shot cut his clothes.

Instantly on his feet again, he made for the wall, but in front of it he
was struck down by a Mexican bullet tearing through his thigh.

There Lieutenant Cochrane, of the Voltigeurs, saw him as he advanced to
the walls.  Reid raised himself, and sang out, entreating the men to
stand firm.

"Don't leave the wall," he cried, "or we shall be cut to pieces.  Hold
on, and the castle is ours."

"There is no danger of our leaving it, captain," said Cochrane; "never
fear!"

Then the scaling ladders were brought, the rush was made, and the castle
taken.  But Reid had been _the very first man under its walls_.

When the war was over, Captain Reid resigned his commission in the
American army, and organised a body of men in New York to go and fight
for the Hungarians, but news reached him in Paris that the Hungarian
insurrection was ended, so he returned to England.

Here he settled down to literary work, publishing "The Scalp Hunters,"
and many wonderful stories of adventure and peril.

The great African explorer, the good Dr Livingstone, said in the last
letter he ever wrote, "Captain Mayne Reid's boys' books are the stuff to
make travellers."

Captain Mayne Reid died on the twenty-first of October, 1883, and the
"Land of Fire" is his unconscious last legacy to the boys of Great
Britain, and to all others who speak the English language.



CHAPTER ONE.

"THE SEA!  THE SEA!  THE OPEN SEA!"

One of the most interesting of English highways is the old coach road
from London to Portsmouth.  Its interest is in part due to the charming
scenery through which it runs, but as much to memories of a bygone time.
One travelling this road at the present day might well deem it lonely,
as there will be met on it only the liveried equipage of some local
magnate, the more unpretentious turn-out of country doctor or parson,
with here and there a lumbering farm waggon, or the farmer himself in
his smart two-wheeled "trap," on the way to a neighbouring market.

How different it was half a century ago, when along this same highway
fifty four-horse stages were "tooled" to and fro from England's
metropolis to her chief seaport town, top-heavy with fares--often a
noisy crowd of jovial Jack tars, just off a cruise and making
Londonward, or with faces set for Portsmouth, once more to breast the
billows and brave the dangers of the deep!  Many a naval officer of name
and fame historic, such as the Rodneys, Cochranes, Collingwoods, and
Codringtons,--even Nile's hero himself,--has been whirled along this old
highway.

All that is over now, and long has been.  To-day the iron horse, with
its rattling train, carries such travellers by a different route--the
screech of its whistle being just audible to wayfarers on the old road,
as in mockery of their crawling pace.  Of its ancient glories there
remain only the splendid causeway, still kept in repair, and the inns
encountered at short