"Well, Barney," said Jack, when Mr. Martindale's canoe had disappeared, "I don't know how a first mate would feel if he lost his captain in mid-ocean, but I should fancy he'd feel pretty much as I do now."
"And what sort of feeling is now consuming ye, sorr?"
"Mixed, Barney, very mixed! I like the idea of being left in charge, trusted, you know; there's something jolly pleasant about that. But that's the point, you see; I am left in charge."
"Sure I see your maning widout your telling me, sorr. 'Tis just the very same feeling I used to have whin a bhoy, and me mither put the baby in me arms and tould me to sit wid her on the doorstep. 'Twas a sweet pretty colleen, an' I thought a powerful deal uv having such a heap uv loveliness in me arms; but thin, just as you say, sorr, she was in me arms, an' they being thin an' she being fat—begorra! I was soon mighty tired uv it, an' I wished she was ugly so that I might hate her widout sin."
"I hope I shan't feel quite so bad as that, Barney," said Jack with a laugh. "But I own I'm a little anxious with so many people in my charge."
"And not wan uv them to be trusted, saving Pat and meself."
"And this mining claim of my uncle's to keep an eye on and defend without using force."
"And wild beasts prowling around——"
"And that villainous uncle of Samba's somewhere in the neighbourhood, I suppose, waiting a chance to molest us."
"And bedad! if he does, he'll find an Irishman, an Englishman, and a terrier, Irish by breed and Irish by nature, and them three are a match for any fifty Blokos, widout a doubt."
"You're an optimist, Barney. But you're right. It's silly to meet troubles half-way. We had better set about doing something. I used to think our house-master kept our noses rather too close to the grindstone, but I begin to see he was right when he said work was the best cure for the dumps."
"And for what the advertisements call a tindency to corpilence. But what will you be after doing at all, sorr?"
"Well, don't you think that, now our numbers are reduced, it would be as well to move our camp nearer to Imbono's village? We shall be here for a couple of months or so, and if Boloko is still on our tracks we should be less open to surprise near Ilola. Besides, it will give the men something to do. They'd better build grass huts for the whole party, and I don't see why we shouldn't try our hands at architectural improvements."
"Indeed, 'tis a good notion, sorr. But are ye sure Imbono would be willing to have us for close neighbours?"
"We can try. He's my blood brother, you know. And I dare say we can put him up to a thing or two."
The chief made no objection to the suggested change of site; indeed, he offered the assistance of his men in the construction of the new huts. This, however, Jack declined in the politest terms, thinking it better to provide plenty of work for his own men until he had had time to take his bearings. The new huts were built within a short distance of Ilola, near a stream. They were the ordinary grass huts of the natives, but Jack, seeing a number of wooden slabs taken from the bottoms of old canoes, had purchased them from Imbono, and when shaped a little they made a very fair substitute for flooring boards. The new settlement was surrounded with a stockade in the native manner, space enough being left within to accommodate Mr. Martindale and his party when they should return.
This work occupied a fortnight. Everything had gone smoothly, save for trifling squabbles among the natives. These Jack managed to settle with little difficulty, in great part through the excellent qualities of Lepoko, who turned out to be a much better man all round than his brother Nando. When the new village was completed, Jack set the men to make Indian clubs from the trees near at hand, and spent part of the cool hours in instructing his followers in their use. They took readily to the new pastime, and very quickly became proficient in executing a great variety of intricate figures. Jack was elated at the success of his experiment: it not only provided an admirable drill for the men, but accustomed them to take commands from him and thus consolidated his authority.
Imbono's men caught the infection: Indian clubs were soon the order of the day in Ilola; and it gave Jack and Barney no little amusement to see men, women, and children at all times of the day whirling clubs around their heads. Imbono saw that his men's performances were greatly lacking in rhythm and grace, and he begged his blood brother (whom he had named Lokolobolo, "strong leg") to allow some of his men to join in the daily practising. Jack was nothing loth; the more influence he could obtain in this way the better his chances of success in the task his uncle had set him.
He was casting about for some new employment to occupy and interest his men, when a couple of canoes came up the river bearing a letter from Mr. Martindale, and a small consignment of Mauser rifles and ammunition. The letter was dated from Baraka.
DEAR JACK,—
I've got here safely, no interference, no upsets. I've managed to get hold of some rifles—I won't tell you how—and send them to you in charge of some canoe "boys." Hope they'll reach you safely. I've paid the boys well, and promised them as much more if they return and meet me with an acknowledgment from you. I'm off to Boma; will write you again from there if I can find a means of sending the letter. Let me know by the bearer how you are getting on.
On the way down I made more particular inquiries than were possible in coming up as to the methods of the Congo Government. At Stanleyville I met a Frenchman who told me a good deal, and here got rather chummy with an English missionary on his way home to tell the British public some of the effects of King Leopold's rule. One need only look at the man to see that he is the right sort, with the stuff in him for martyrdom if the call came. The things he told me made my skin creep. Leopold seems to be doing his best to depopulate the country. He'll soon make Vanderbilt sing small as a multi-millionaire; but when his pile's made this State of his will be a wilderness.
I find that the natives are required to bring in four kilos of rubber every fortnight. They're supposed to be paid for it, and they do get brass rods or something of the sort; but the pay works out at the rate of three cents a pound—when rubber to my knowledge fetches about eighty cents a pound in the European market! I hear of cases where they don't even get that; a spoonful of salt is supposed to be sufficient. If the rubber don't measure up to the standard, the least punishment the poor wretches get is twenty-five lashes with a whip of hippo hide—thechicotte, an outrageous thing that would cut through a pine log. But they don't stop at twenty-five; a hundred ain't uncommon; no wonder some of the poor creatures peg out after it.
But that's not the worst. These precious "forest guards," as they call them, seem to be little less than fiends. I saw with my own eyes, at one of the villages on the way down, a basket filled with hands, cut from the people these savages have killed for not bringing in enough rubber. The Frenchman told me they have to produce these hands before the Commissary to prove they haven't wasted their cartridges. According to State law they oughtn't to be armed with rifles, but they've got a Belgian thing called the Albini, and that's how they use it. I wouldn't believe that this hand-chopping was done with the knowledge of the officials, though even then it don't relieve them of responsibility; but I heard of a State officer at one of the outposts who actually paid in brass rods for the hands brought him.
Law doesn't count here, and justice is only a name. What do you think of this? A Belgian official quartered himself with twenty native soldiers on a small village, and because they couldn't fix up at once the food required for the visitors, he carried the chief and some of his men to his camp up river, and kept 'em there tied up for a month till a fine of 5,000 brass rods had been paid—ruination for such a small place. The missionary told me that "fights" are constantly taking place, and "fight" simply means massacre. Districts that once held a thousand people are now reduced to a hundred; what natives are not killed get so worn out and dispirited that they are bowled over by sleeping sickness. If this sort of thing goes on much longer, the whole population will be wiped out.
You'll be surprised to get such a long letter; but fact is, I can't think of anything else just now. It makes me fairly sick to think that America had a hand in putting this huge territory under the control of a man whose philanthropic high-falutin comes to this. The whole system is organized murder and pillage under the form of law, and for this King Leopold, who pockets a thumping profit, is responsible before God and man. Now I've told you this you'll know how to deal with that fellow Elbel if he tries any tricks. But remember, no fighting except in self-defence. Patience, my boy—toujours la patience, as the Frenchman said to me when I was boiling with rage and wanted to go right away and speak my mind to the Governor.
Your affectionate uncle,JOHN MARTINDALE.
P.S.—I saw and heard nothing of Samba.
There was plenty of food for thought here, especially when Jack learnt from the head paddler who had brought the letter that the officials of the Trust in which Ilola was situated were coming up the river to establish new dépôts for the rubber. He wrote a brief account of what he had been doing, and despatched it by the same men. Then, to be prepared for eventualities, he picked out the most intelligent of his followers and began to teach them the use of the rifle. Only a few of them showed any promise as marksmen. But Jack was very patient with them; and having a good stock of ammunition and the promise of more, he did not spare practice, and in a short time had about fifteen fairly trustworthy shots. One man, named Makoko, took to the rifle from the first and ran Jack close as a marksman. Jack was very proud of his pupil. He himself had been the crack shot of his school company; and though there was all the difference in the world between shooting at the butts from a position of rest and shooting at alligators or hippos from a canoe, he had tested his marksmanship with success as he came up the Congo.
Now that some of his men had rifles it occurred to Jack to teach them what he remembered of his company drill. It was a welcome change after their long practice with the Indian clubs, and they entered into it with the pleasure and zest of children. Lepoko was gratified with the rank of sergeant, and Makoko made corporal in recognition of his diligence and skill in musketry. When the company was formed Barney reminded Jack that he had been a corporal in the Irish Fusiliers. "And sure I'd be in the army now, sorr, only they didn't invent the Irish Guards till I was a time-expired man. But having been a corporal, it's meself that is cut out to be your liftinant here, sorr. We've got Pat for the pet uv the reg'mint," he added, "and the only thing that's wanting is the uniform."
"Well, Barney, perhaps for the sake of uniformity we'd better strip and take to the loincloth."
"Ah! you must always be having your bit uv fun, sorr. We'd be far too conspicuous, for my skin at any rate would turn red wid modesty, and the generals say that red coats make the best targets for the inemy."
The drilling of Jack's company was followed with great interest and admiration by Imbono and his men. They never failed to attend the daily parade, and soon desired to join it. Jack delighted the chief by putting the villagers through the same exercises as his own men, excepting, of course, the musketry practice, for which they had no rifles. Before long Jack found himself captain of a company a hundred and fifty strong, all but his fifteen riflemen being spearmen.
Nearly two months had now passed. Jack had not heard again from his uncle, whose return he daily expected. He was anxious to see him again, for lately news had been brought in by excited natives that the servants of the Great White Chief were drawing nearer, their progress being attended by wanton cruelties which boded ill for the men of Ilola. So distressed was Imbono at the tales he heard from these messengers that he thought of dismantling his village and migrating into the depths of the forest. There for a time he and his people might hide from the destroyer. But to a people accustomed to the open the prospect of making a new home in the forest was gloomy indeed. Most of them would probably die of disease before they became acclimatised, and there was great risk of starving while clearings were being made and brought under cultivation. Imbono resolved to wait a little longer, hoping that Bula Matadi might turn back, sated with the spoils from lower reaches of the Lemba.
One day, the visitors so long expected and so little desired arrived at the village. Jack's settlement being on the further side of Ilola from the river, he did not know of their approach until informed of it by a messenger from Imbono. Thirty forest guards of the Great White Chief had come, and with them twenty nondescripts, hangers-on of the licensed pillagers. Their leader was not a white man, as Imbono had expected, but a black man like themselves. This surprised Jack. It was of rather ill omen that the first representatives of King Leopold in Imbono's village should be negroes free from white men's control. But the strangers reported that a white man—his name, they said, was Elobela—was coming up the river behind them. Meanwhile they, in his name, called upon the chief to supply rubber. Imbono desired that his brother Lokolobolo would come into the village and give him advice.
"Faith, I'd do nothing of the sort, sorr," said Barney. "What would ye have any truck wid Elbel's scoundhrels for?"
"But it would be a poor return for Imbono's kindness to refuse. I shall certainly go; the question is, shall I go armed?"
"The blessed angels help ye if ye don't, sorr. Take your revolver; I'll come wid ye, and so will Pat; 'tis right to make a good show for the honour of the reg'mint."
Accordingly captain, lieutenant, and regimental pet, with Lepoko as interpreter, left the stockaded camp and crossed to Ilola. They found the thirty forest guards already swaggering about the village as if it belonged to them. They were big muscular Ngombe, armed with rifle, cutlass, and whip. Their leader was engaged in conversation with the chief. No sooner did Pat perceive him than he darted forward with a growl, and coming to the negro, began to bark furiously at his heels. The man turned round quickly and aimed a blow with his whip at the dog, which made Pat bark and jump more vigorously than ever. At the same moment the man caught sight of Jack, and his face expressed surprise, guilt, and bravado in turn.
"Begorra!" said Barney under his breath, "'tis Bloko himself!"
The chief's countenance cleared; he was unmistakably pleased at Jack's ready response to his request. Then he anxiously asked what he should do.
"I don't think you can do anything but obey," replied Jack. "Undoubtedly the Great White Chief is lord of the land. By the laws he has made you are bound to supply these people with rubber. It is your tax. If you resist it will mean ruin to yourself and your villages. How is the rubber to be paid for?"
"In brass rods."
"Well, let your men do their best. We will see if you get your due pay. My uncle will soon be back; he is a determined man, and if you are not properly treated he will take care that somebody hears of it."
Boloko scowled, then laughed, when Lepoko translated this answer to the chief. He swaggered away to his men, and the whole crowd were soon laughing heartily, every now and then making derisive gestures at the white men. With some difficulty Barney had got hold of Pat, whose barking had subsided into a rumbling growl. But for his restraining hand Barney knew well that the dog would have thrown prudence to the winds and set upon the strange negroes.
From that day Imbono's villagers began the collection of rubber. Boloko and his men seized as many huts as they required, and demanded regular and copious supplies of food for themselves and their hangers-on. Before twenty-four hours had passed Boloko, with half a dozen of his guards, strolled over to Jack's village, and looked in at the gateway of the stockade. Jack had already decided to adopt military precautions. Two of his best men were doing sentry-go at the gate. When Boloko saw them and their rifles he thought better of entering as he had purposed. He stood for some time taking stock of the tidy compound and the neat new huts around, and discussing with his men this unexpected discovery. Then with a malignant scowl he returned to Ilola.
For some days Jack saw no more of Boloko. He remained within his own stockade, thinking it would do the chief no good if he too openly showed friendship. Every day he put the men through their usual drill, never giving the least sign that he was aware of being closely observed by the forest guards. The drilling of Imbono's men had ceased; the adult villagers were now engaged in the collection of rubber.
From what Jack heard from his men, it soon became clear to him that Boloko was anxious to pick a quarrel with the chief. His motive, Jack guessed, was partly to show his authority, partly to flaunt his contempt of the friendship between Imbono and the white men. His design was to some extent kept in check by the knowledge that Jack had fifteen men well armed and trained, and the presence of the two white men, Inglesa too—he had a wholesome respect for the Inglesa—was in itself a considerable deterrent. But he began to find fault with the quality of the rubber brought in; declared that the villagers kept the best fish for themselves and gave him the worst; complained that his men were made ill by rotten manioc. Imbono took care that the details of these grievances were carried to Jack, who, however, held aloof, still feeling that interference on his part would do no good, while it would certainly aggravate the situation. When the Congo Free State entrusted the collection of its revenue to such subordinates as Boloko, commanding ruthless savages like the forest guards, there was nothing to be done.
One evening, after sunset, Lepoko came into Jack's hut to say that the chief desired to see him. Jack hurried out, and found Imbono in company with one of his villagers. He invited them into his hut, lighted a candle, and setting food and palm wine before them, inquired the object of their visit.
"Look, my brother!" said the chief, pointing to his companion.
The man turned, and showed three terrible gashes in his back. He lifted his right foot and removed a bandage; Jack saw that two of the toes were missing.
"You see, brother!" said Imbono. "Ifumi was eating caterpillars in his hut. The guard Bomolo saw him and came to him and said, 'Your rubber is short. You eat caterpillars instead of collecting rubber.' Ifumi said: 'No, my rubber is not short. There is my basket; you see it is full.' But Bomolo cut three gashes in his back, and struck off two of his toes with his knife."
"That is the truth, Ifumi?" asked Jack.
"It is true," replied the man.
"You did not provoke Bomolo?"
"No, I said to him only what the chief has told."
"You did right to come, Imbono," said Jack quietly. "Go back now: you had better not be seen here. I will send you a message in the morning."
The two men thanked him and went away, Ifumi limping as he walked, supported by the chief's arm. Jack called Barney and told him what had happened.
"It makes my blood boil, Barney. I hoped it would not come to this. Poor wretches—to be at the mercy of such savages! I can't stand by and see such things done. I'm sure my uncle would not wish me to. Yet what can I do? We could fight Boloko and his men, and beat them I hope; but goodness knows what that would lead to. Whatever little right they have to maim these poor people, we have none whatever to interfere, and we should have the regular forces of the State down on us for treason or rebellion or what not. But something must be done. I wish my uncle were here!"
"Well, sorr, I'm ready for anything. The quickest and easiest way would be to fight, for wid all this drill wan uv our men is worth two uv those blagyards."
"No, my uncle said we were to fight only in self-defence. I can't go against that. Couldn't we persuade Boloko to keep his men in order—bribe him, perhaps?"
"I'd sooner try to persuade the divil, sorr."
"Well, I shall try it. I'll invite him to a palaver. We'll give him a feast—open our last bottle of soda water; a good dinner improves a man's temper sometimes, you know, Barney."
"True, sorr; but it sometimes makes a man very impident. Will I send Lepoko over wid the invitation the morn's morn, sorr?"
"Yes, directly after breakfast. Say that I shall be pleased if Boloko will come to see me in my camp. He may bring his rifle and half a dozen of his men."
As Jack had expected, Boloko was flattered by the invitation, with its implied recognition of his importance. There is nothing a negro likes better than an opportunity for talk, and Boloko declared himself quite ready to meet the Inglesa. But he would not venture into the camp; the meeting must take place outside. The objection, considering the thinly-veiled hostility of the two parties, was not unreasonable. Jack gave up the idea of a banquet, and, about eight o'clock in the morning, went with Barney and Lepoko to the site of his original camp, where he found Boloko and half a dozen of his men already assembled.
It is of the essence of a palaver to be deliberate, not to say long-winded, and Jack followed the advice of Lepoko in passing many compliments and talking about a great variety of matters before he came to the point. Then, however, he made the point perfectly clear. He spoke of what he had learnt of the forest guards' behaviour in the village, and of Bomolo's outrage in particular.
"You must know," he concluded, "that it is against the law of the land to injure or assault the people. Your duty is to see that they do not destroy the vines by improper cutting, and that they go regularly into the forest. You have no right to ill-use them."
"The white man speaks very wisely; he knows much more than Boloko. Boloko knows nothing of law or right; he does what is the custom."
"But you know, my friend, it is a wrong custom."
"It may be as the white man says, but the Inglesa is not my master. My master is Elobela. Let the Inglesa complain to Elobela. As for right, what right has the Inglesa to interfere? He is a stranger; he is not a servant of the Great White Chief."
"I am indeed a stranger; I am not a servant of the Great White Chief. But the Great Spirit who made the world and all men bids me speak if I see wrong done."
Boloko broke out in insolent laughter, and said something to his men which Lepoko refused to translate.
"Him say berrah nasty fing 'bout massa; me no can tell massa."
Jack saw that it was time to bring the interview to a close. There was no coping with insolence.
"Very well," he said sternly. "It will be my duty to report at Boma what I have seen and heard in the village. And more, Boloko; I shall lay a complaint against you for attempting to cut loose our canoes, and for conducting an attack by night upon our camp."
Boloko looked startled and began to bluster when this was translated to him. But it was evident that this manner was assumed as a cloak to a real uneasiness. The moment Lepoko had concluded, Jack walked away from the meeting, and as he returned to his own quarters he heard the guards discussing in excited and vehement tones what he had said. For all his bluster, Boloko had been impressed. For a few days Jack heard of no overt acts of violence. Imbono's gratitude for the intervention was almost overwhelming. He heaped praise and compliments upon his brother Lokolobolo, and, not content with words, made him a valuable present. Half a dozen of his men staggered to Jack's hut one night under the weight of a huge tusk of ivory, which Imbono had kept since the time when elephant-hunting was a profitable occupation.
Two days after the palaver a canoe arrived with another dozen Mauser rifles and ammunition from Mr. Martindale. The head paddler was cautious enough to send one of his men in advance to the camp to announce his arrival, and Jack managed to get the rifles brought secretly within his stockade under cover of night. It was just as well, he thought, to keep Boloko in ignorance of this new acquisition of strength.
The man reported that he had been despatched from Irebo by an Inglesa who had entrusted him with a bonkanda[1] for the young Inglesa. Jack opened the note eagerly. This time it was very short:—
DEAR JACK,—
All going well. Have been delayed by little investigating trips I have made in the concessions of the Abir Trust and the Domaine de la Couronne. Atrocities even worse than I thought. Hope all well with you. Patience—and tact.
J.M.
P.S.—I am sending a dozen rifles and some ammunition; can't get any more.
The paddler said that he had had great difficulty in eluding the white men and their agents. Only a few days before, he and his companions had almost run into a white man who was coming up the river in a smoke-boat, establishing new outposts for the collection of rubber. No doubt an outpost would be established at Ilola; for Imbono was the chief of several villages and had many young men.
This news gave Jack no little uneasiness. Instinctively he felt that the difficulties arising from Boloko's presence would be increased by the arrival of his Belgian superior. For after what he had learnt from his uncle he could not doubt that the tyranny of the forest guards was practised at least with the connivance, if not by the actual authority, of the officials. As a precaution he took care to have men constantly on the look-out at the river bank for the approach of strange boats, and when one day Elbel's launch was sighted, he withdrew all his men within the stockade and posted double sentries. He felt pretty sure that the white man in command was Monsieur Elbel, the man with whom Mr. Martindale had already had a brush; and of Elbel he had a profound mistrust, formed at first sight and accentuated by all that he had subsequently heard.
Boloko and his satellites went in a crowd to the bank of the river to greet the new arrivals. From behind his stockade Jack watched them through his field-glass as they landed from the launch and set off for the village. The white man was certainly Elbel. He was accompanied by a number of forest guards armed like Boloko's, and by a crowd of hangers-on—negroes of many varieties. On the way up to the village Boloko walked by Elbel's side, talking very earnestly, and Jack saw the Belgian throw a keen and inquisitive glance in the direction of his camp.
Not an hour afterwards Elbel left the village and walked over to Jack's settlement, which the natives had named Ilombikambua, "house of the dog," in reference to Pat the terrier. Jack had given orders that the white man was to be admitted if he came, but no black man in his company. The Belgian had come alone, and looked a little surprised when the sentries at the gate received him with a correct military salute. Jack rose from his stool in front of his hut and doffed his hat courteously. Outwardly he was calm enough; but he felt by no means easy in mind, realizing that his responsibility was far from being the "jolly lark" he had light-heartedly called it when Mr. Martindale announced his intention of leaving him in charge.
"Good morning, sir," said the Belgian in his foreign accent.
"Good morning. I think I have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur Elbel?"
"Dat is my name. I do not know your name."
"John Challoner."
"Yes, I believe I see you before in a canoe."
"When I was coming up the river with my uncle."
"Who is now returned to Boma. Yes, I heard of dat. Mr. Martindale—I zink dat is de name—have found de gold he sought?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Martindale's business."
"Exactly. I see. Ve must not be indiscreet, hein? Now as for your Mr. Martindale, I am not pleased, I say at vunce. I am not pleased viz Mr. Martindale. He refuse to give me up de black boy dat vas in your canoe. Dat vas against de law: it is not permitted in de Congo State for de natives to leave deir village."
"But if the village no longer exists, Mr. Elbel?"
The Belgian shrugged.
"Dat make no difference! But I have more to say. I have learn dat your men have rifles; I see dem myself; dey even hold deir rifles at de salute, dey have military training, hein? Now it is not permitted to have rifles in de Congo State: dey are vat you call contraband. I muss ask you to be so kind and give de rifles to me."
"I am afraid I can't oblige you, Mr. Elbel. The rifles belong to my uncle."
"Dat make no difference! I find de rifles here: I muss ask you in de name of de Free State to give dem up."
"I don't know that you have any right to speak in the name of the Congo State. I believe, sir, you are an official of the Société Cosmopolite du Commerce du Congo—a private trust. I can't recognize your authority, Mr. Elbel."
"But it is de law."
"If you talk of law! ... are your practices legal, Mr. Elbel? Is it legal to shoot and maim the natives as you have been doing for a hundred miles and more along the river? Is it legal to incite a night attack on peaceable travellers?" (Here Elbel could not suppress a start, and looked far from comfortable.) "But whether I am acting legally or not, I cannot recognize your authority. If you want the rifles, I must ask you to wait until Mr. Martindale's return and demand them from him. Until then they are in my charge, and I cannot give them up."
Jack thought afterwards that he might have spoken a little less bluntly; but he wished to put an end to a disagreeable interview. His firmness made the Belgian angry.
"Ver' vell, ver' vell!" he said, flushing with annoyance. "You vill suffer for dis. You not recognize my right: vell, Capitaine Van Vorst, an officer of de State, comes up de river; he have right; and I say, Mr. Chon Shalloner, you shall be arrest and made to pay heavy amende—if not put in prison."
Jack's bow was a courteous intimation that the interview was ended. But the Belgian caught the flicker of a smile on his face, and flung away in a rage which he made no attempt to disguise. Jack's sentries, who again brought their rifles to the salute, shrank back before Elbel's scowl as he passed out of the gate.
Jack was not ill-pleased with the result of the interview. You have always scored a point when the enemy loses his temper. Apparently Elbel did not intend to take strong measures himself. He knew the weakness of his position. The situation would be changed if a State officer was indeed on his way up the river: but Jack did not allow himself to be disturbed by Elbel's threat; his uncle would doubtless be back in a few days, and he had unbounded faith in Mr. Martindale's judgment and discretion.
From that time he took care that either Barney or himself should be always in the stockaded camp. His men had become a well-disciplined force, but he could not answer for their being able to act discreetly towards a white man whom they had reason to dread.
For a day or two there was no sign of hostility from Elbel. He did not repeat his visit, which Jack did not feel called upon to return. But news came from Ilola that, while the Belgian's arrival had checked the ghastly ferocities of the forest guards, the chicotte had been still more freely in play than before. Every man whose basket did not contain the requisite five kilos of rubber, or the quality of whose rubber did not approve itself to Elbel, was unmercifully flogged. Those with whom no fault could on any pretext be found were paid with perhaps a piece of cloth or some trumpery article which was useless to them, and which in many cases they threw away.
Imbono sent word one day that the most distant of his villages had been burnt. It contained a hundred adult male inhabitants, but only fifty had brought rubber to Ilola, the remainder having been engaged in hunting down a herd of elephants which had been ravaging their crops. Elbel had refused to accept the explanation. He had retained the fifty men as hostages, and sent a detachment of his forest guards to bring in the unruly fifty and burn their village down. Jack could only express his sympathy: he felt that there was nothing to be done.
One morning Barney, who acted as storekeeper to the camp, reported that food was running short.
"Well, Imbono will supply us," replied Jack.
"Beggin' your pardon, sorr, Imbono has little enough for himself since Elbel and his blagyards came to the place. The thieving villains will have the best, and divil a ha'penny do they pay for it."
"We must have food. When I was at Akumbi the other day I saw a good crop of ground-nuts. I'll go over myself and see if I can arrange for a supply."
Akumbi was the smallest of the chief's villages, situated about five miles up the river. Jack set off early with Lepoko, taking the well-worn path through the fringe of forest. As he approached the village he heard cries of pain. Instinctively he quickened his steps and hurried through the gateway in the stockade; then he came upon a scene that made his blood boil. Tied to a tree was a youth, who, Lepoko told him, was the son of Lofundo, the sub-chief of the village. Elbel was thrashing the captive with the chicotte, every lash cutting into the quivering flesh and provoking shrieks of agony. Not another villager was to be seen; all had fled either into their huts or into the forest.
Infuriated at the sight, Jack forgot all counsels of prudence. He rushed towards the spot, peremptorily calling on Elbel to desist. The Belgian swung round savagely, gave one disdainful look at the interrupter, and raised his arm with the intention of putting all his force into another stroke. But Jack sprang at the uplifted arm, caught Elbel by the wrist and arrested the blow. Wrenching himself free, the Belgian, livid with rage, made a fierce cut at Jack. He was too near for the long lash to have the full effect intended; but Jack felt the sting as the flexible thong curled round him. Then his attitude changed. Before, he had merely been conscious of a desire to protect the negro; now, he was afire with a personal grievance. Elbel had not time to raise the whip for a second stroke. Flinging out his left fist Jack caught him a smashing blow on the cheek, and followed it up with a right-hander which hurled him half senseless to the ground. Elbel staggered to his feet, presenting a piteous spectacle, blood streaming from his nose, his left eye half closed. He groped for his revolver, but the sight of Jack standing over him, pale but determined, revolver in hand ready for the next move, cowed him. He fumbled for a few seconds at his belt, then slunk away without a word.
Jack turns the tablesJack turns the tables
The village compound was immediately filled with a crowd of natives, who poured out of the huts: whence they had secretly watched the scene. Jack was overwhelmed with protestations of gratitude. He cut the boy loose and restored him, bleeding from the lash, to his father. Then he extricated himself from the excited throng, took Lofundo aside, waived his demonstrations, and, completing the business on which he had come, left the village as soon as he could. Now that the heat of the moment was passed, he feared he had not done the villagers or himself any good. A personal affray with Elbel was the last thing he would have desired; and though he felt that he could hardly have acted otherwise than he had done, he was in anything but an elated mood when he returned to his camp.
He at once told Barney of what had occurred, and spoke of his misgivings.
"Arrah thin, sorr," said the Irishman, "I do not see any cause for disthress at all at all. The villain got his deserts, and 'twill tache him a lesson. Sure I'd like to have seen his face, the spalpeen!"
"But I'd no right to interfere, Barney; you can't get over that."
"Begging your pardon, sorr, I do not agree wid that at all. Ye may say a father has the right to thrash his children; 'twas the holy Solomon himself said so! But if he lays it on too heavy, the law steps in and says 'Hands off!' A farmer has a right to get work out uv his horse; but if he overtaxes the poor baste, the law steps in again and says 'No more uv that.' These poor niggers seem to have to work widout fair pay, and pay rent into the bargain. That's more than an Irishman would stand; and when the nigger-driver begins to maul 'em as well, worse than poor dumb beasts widout souls uv their own—be jabers! sorr, what would I do, if I saw a man ill-treating my Pat? I would knock him down, sorr, if he was the Lord-Liftinant himself!"
The fact that several days passed without any sign of resentment or vengeance on Elbel's part did not make Jack less uneasy. So far from his trouncing having a deterrent effect, the treatment of the natives became steadily worse. Things were following the inevitable course. The vines in the neighbourhood of the village had yielded all the rubber of which they were at present capable, and the men had to go continually further afield. This necessitated their remaining for days at a time away from their homes, in improvised shelters which afforded poor protection against the weather and the wild beasts. They had to put up with indifferent food that gave scanty nourishment. When, having collected the rubber, they returned at last to their homes, they could only remain there a couple of days, for the next demand was upon them. Meanwhile their families had been at the mercy of the forest guards. Day by day complaints came to Jack from Imbono of the brutalities of these ruffians, some of them so horrible that his whole being quivered with passionate indignation. Why did not his uncle return? How long must he remain helpless here, unable to lift a hand in defence of the oppressed?
One evening, just as he had retired to rest, he was woke by Barney and told that a strange negro had come to the gate and asked admittance. He had specially desired to see the Inglesa. Jack sent word that the man was to be brought to him, and awaited his coming outside the hut.
The negro came up in charge of Lepoko. By the light of his electric torch Jack saw a tall man, so much emaciated that he appeared almost a skeleton. His cheeks were sunken in, his arms and legs were no thicker than a child's, and—what was this! The man held up one arm; the hand was gone!
"Who is he?" asked Jack, shuddering at the sight of the half-healed stump.
"Him call Batukuno, sah. Come from Nsongo. Him carry baumba[2] to brudder, sah: Ekila, him forest guard, meet Batukuno, say, 'Gib me baumba.' Batukuno say, 'No can do: me carry to brudder.' Rubber day come. Batukuno bring basket; Ekila say, 'Rubber too much bad, Batukuno.' Batukuno say, 'No bad at all; good rubber all same.' Ekila laugh, sah; cut off Batukuno him hand."
"Just in revenge for not getting the baumba?"
"Rebenge, sah, rebenge, all same."
"But how came he here?"
"Boy Samba, sah. Him tell Batukuno Inglesa massa good white man, brudder Tanalay, oh yes! Inglesa no 'fraid Boloko, no 'fraid Elobela; Inglesa gib Batukuno hut, gib food, gib plenty rings. Him come long long way: hurt berrah much, sah, berrah sick; want eat, no can find nuff. Him hide long time 'cos 'fraid Boloko. Now hab got massa; no 'fraid no more; Boloko, Elobela, dem 'fraid now."
"Where is Samba then?"
"Samba him long long way: him go find fader and mudder."
"I was right after all," said Jack turning to Barney. "I'm glad to hear the boy's alive. Well, Lepoko, take Batukuno to one of the huts and give him some supper. Another sign of King Leopold's fatherly treatment, Barney! Uncle said they cut the hands from the dead, but it appears that the living are mutilated too."
"The curse uv Cromwell on them, sorr. But, begging your pardon, you made a mistake."
"How's that?"
"Sure you said 'twas my Irish English that sent little Samba away."
"Did I?" said Jack, laughing. "I'd forgotten it. He's a capital little fellow, Barney. Fancy, going by himself that long journey through the forest to find his people! And yet there are fools who think that because a man is black he hasn't feelings or affections like ourselves."
Batukuno was only the firstfruits of Samba's missionary zeal. From day to day, men, women, and children began to drop in at Jack's camp, many of them mutilated, all showing terrible signs of ill-usage and privation. Some were survivors of Samba's own people, the villagers of Banonga; but they numbered among them men from other tribes. Some had heard of the benevolent Inglesa from Samba's own lips; others from people he had told. Among them was an old chief, who appeared heart-broken at having been compelled to leave his country.
"Why did I leave, you ask, O white man!" he said in reply to a question of Jack's. "In the morning, bullets; in the evening, bullets. They shot our mouths away, they shot through our hearts and our sides. They robbed us of everything we had. Why should we stay to be killed like that? That is why I ran away."
"Were many of your people killed?"
"Ah, ah!" he replied, "once we were as bafumba[3] in multitude; now we are only as these."
He spread out his fingers twice or thrice.
"And they have been killed—not dying by the sleeping sickness?"
"No. We have lost a few by the sleeping sickness, but only a few. It is rubber that has killed our people. Botofé bo le iwa!"
Jack's sympathy was keenly enlisted on behalf of these unfortunate people; and he looked forward more and more eagerly for Mr. Martindale's return. He could not but smile a little whimsically, remembering his uncle's protestations, to find that Mr. Martindale was gaining a reputation for general philanthropy through a large section of the Upper Congo territory. But as the stream of fugitives showed no signs of diminishing he began to feel a certain embarrassment. It was all very well to open a cave Adullam for every one that was distressed: to start a hospital for the halt and lame and blind; but the space he had at command within his stockade was limited: already the huts he had reserved for Mr. Martindale and his men were occupied, and every fugitive meant another mouth to feed. He feared, too, lest the peace and order of his settlement should be disturbed by the influx of so many idle strangers. And more than all, he feared that some of the poor wretches who came seeking asylum with him would fall into the hands of Elbel ere they reached their desired haven. It was that consideration that induced him to refuse none who sought admittance. Elbel had been absent for some days from Ilola, and the fugitives, by choosing always the fall of night to approach the place, had so far managed to elude observation by their enemies. But that could not continue; the presence of strangers in Ilombikambua must soon become known to Elbel; then a watch would be set, and the wanderers would be intercepted. What their fate then would be Jack knew too well. None suffered so terribly at the hands of the forest guards as people caught straying from their villages. Such absences interfered with the regularity of the rubber supply, which in turn affected the revenue and reduced profits. No runagate serf in mediæval Europe was more severely dealt with than the Congo native who dared to range afield.
Jack could not hand the people over to Elbel's tender mercies; yet it would soon be impossible to find room for more. While he was puzzling how to deal with this perplexing situation it was suddenly made still more complicated. Early one morning he heard Pat barking with more than his usual vigour, and with a note of wild pleasure which he had not expressed for many a day. Leaving his hut to ask what had happened, he was met by the terrier, who ran up to him, leaped this way and that, darted off towards the gate, then back again, all the time barking with frantic joy. In a moment Jack saw the meaning of the dog's excitement. Samba himself was running towards him!
The boy flung himself down at Jack's feet, paying no attention even to Pat.
"I am glad to see you, very glad," said Jack in Samba's own tongue. "What have you been doing?"
His knowledge of the language was not great enough to permit him to follow Samba's answer, poured out as it was with great rapidity, and a pitiful earnestness that brought a lump to Jack's throat. But Lepoko was at hand, and translated faithfully.
Samba was in terrible distress. He had found his father and mother, and had brought them through peril and privation to the very verge of safety, when they fell among a number of forest guards evidently placed to intercept fugitives. All three were captured and taken to Boloko, who was beside himself with delight at the sight of his brother Mboyo a prisoner. He had a special grudge against him, dating from their old rivalry in Banonga. Elbel had just returned from a visit to outlying villages; the prisoners had been carried before him, and when Boloko explained who they were, the Belgian ordered them to be tied up, and sentenced them to be thrashed publicly on the next day. Samba had contrived to escape from custody, and had now come to implore the Inglesa to save his parents. They were so worn out by their long journey, so ill from the hardships they had suffered, that they would certainly die under the whip.
"Poor little fellow!" said Jack, laying his hand soothingly on the boy's head. "The whipping is to be to-morrow? You are sure?"
Yes; Elobela would be absent this day; he would not return till the evening. The flogging was fixed for dawn on the following morning.
"Come into my hut; we will see what can be done. Barney, you come too."
"Niggers have no feelings!" said Barney, releasing Pat from the grasp in which he had been struggling while Samba told his story. "Begorra! they might as well say the same uv dogs!"
[1] Any kind of letter or document.
[2] Riches.
[3] Driver ants.
Jack felt himself in a distressing predicament. Could he allow Samba's father and mother, for whom he suspected the boy must have made heroic exertions, to undergo a punishment which, as he had learnt from more than one of the refugees, frequently ended in the death of the victim? Yet how prevent it? Whatever might be urged against it, the use of the chicotte had become established as a recognized instrument of administration in the Congo Free State. As a stranger and a foreigner he had, to begin with, no right to interfere, and his previous relations with Elbel had been such that a protest and an attempt at dissuasion would be equally useless. His action on behalf of Lofundo's son had been taken on the spur of the moment; it would not dispose Elbel to pay any attention to calmer and more deliberate measures now. Even a threat to report him would probably have no effect on the Belgian. He was only doing what the officers of the State, or the officials of the Trusts holding authority from the State, were accustomed to do, whether by themselves or their agents. A protest from Jack would merely aggravate the punishment of the wretched people.
Although Elbel had not taken any open step against Jack since their last meeting, the latter felt assured that he was nursing his spite and only awaiting a favourable opportunity to indulge it. Indeed it was likely that something had already been done. Perhaps Elbel was in communication with Boma. He had mentioned that a captain of the State forces was on his way up the river; for all that Jack knew the officer might deal very summarily with him when he arrived. That Elbel would tamely endure the humiliation he had suffered Jack did not for a moment believe.
Jack put these points to Barney.
"If I attempt to do anything for Samba's people," he added, "I must be prepared to back up my demands by force, and that will mean bloodshed. I can't run the risk, Barney. Uncle left me in charge, and, as I've told you, said I wasn't to fight except in self-defence."
"Bedad, sorr, but he'd fight himself if he were here."
"That may be, but I can't take the responsibility."
"Cannot we get the people out uv the scoundhrel's clutches widout fighting, sorr? The bhoy escaped, to be sure."
"True; how did you get away, Samba?"
The boy explained that he had been imprisoned separately from his parents: he did not know why. They had been chained by the neck and fastened to a tree in front of Boloko's hut; he had been roped by the ankle and secured to another tree farther away. In the middle of the night he had wriggled and strained at his bonds until, after much toil and pain, he had released his foot. Then, when the sentry's back was turned, he had slipped away, stolen behind the huts, and with great difficulty clambered over the stockade.
"And are your parents still chained to the tree?"
Samba did not know. He had not ventured to approach them after releasing himself, for his sole hope was in the Inglesa, and if he were recaptured he knew that his parents' fate was sealed. But if the Inglesa wished, he would steal back into the village and see if the prisoners were still at the same spot.
"That will never do," said Jack. "The boy would certainly be caught, Barney."
"That's the truth, sorr. But 'tis the morning for Lingombela to go to the village for eggs; could he not find out what you wish to know?"
"He's a discreet fellow. Yes, let him try. He must be very careful. I wonder that Elbel has not forbidden our men to go into the village; and if he suspects any interference there'll be trouble."
Barney went out to send Lingombela on his errand. Meanwhile Jack got Samba to tell him, through Lepoko, how he had found his parents. The boy gave briefly the story of his wanderings, his perils from the wild beasts of the forest, his hunger and want, his capture by the Bambute, his escape, his adventure with the crocodile, his second capture and more successful escape under cover of a great forest storm. Jack was deeply impressed at the time; but many of the details came to him later from others, and each new fact added to his admiration for the indomitable young traveller.
The pigmies who had captured Samba at the river were a different tribe from those with whom he had lived in the forest. Like those, however, they made much of him, giving him plenty of food, but never letting him go out of their sight.
One night, a fierce tempest swept through the forest, snapping great trees and whirling them about like feathers. Thunder crashed, lightning cut black paths through the foliage; and the Bambute cowered in their huts, dreading lest these should be crushed by a falling tree or scorched by the lightning's flame, yet feeling safer within than without. But Samba rejoiced in the elemental disturbance. Reckless of the terrors of the storm in his fixed determination to escape, he stole out when the uproar was at its height and plunged into the forest. All other peril was banished by the fury of the tempest. Once he passed a leopard within a few feet, but the beast was too much scared by the lightning to seize the opportunity of securing an easy meal.
After many days of wandering and privation Samba came within a day's journey of what had been his village. Stumbling accidentally upon one of his fellow-villagers, he told him his story, and was taken by him to a cave in the forest where several of the fugitives from Banonga were in hiding, some badly wounded. Samba came to them like a sunbeam. What he told them about Mr. Martindale gave them courage and hope. Some set off at once to seek out the Inglesa whose praise Samba was so loud in singing; they would implore his protection: others, more timorous or less hardy, dreading the long and toilsome journey, resolved to remain where they were, for they were at least in no straits for food. None of them could give Samba any news of his parents: so after remaining a day or two with them he went on alone. He reached the site of the desolated village in the evening, and took refuge in the branches of a tree. His intention was to push on next day and search the forest beyond the village. But with morning light something impelled him to wander round the scene of his happy childhood. Here had stood his father's hut; there, not far away, the old chief Mirambo had dwelt. It seemed to Samba that the place was altered in appearance since he had left it in company with Mr. Martindale. An attempt had been made to repair the ruins of Mirambo's hut. Somewhat startled, Samba approached it curiously, and was still more startled to hear low groans proceeding from a spot where a corner of the site had been covered with rough thatch. Entering, he discovered with mingled joy and terror that his father and mother lay there, nearly dead from wounds and starvation.
With the negro's instinct for returning to his old haunts, Mboyo had come back with his wife to Banonga, and managed to rig up a precarious shelter in his father's shattered hut. Then his strength failed him. He had been wounded in the attack on the village, but had made good his escape to the forest with his favourite wife. His other wives and children had disappeared; of them he never heard again. The unwonted exposure soon told upon his wife Lukela; she fell ill, and, weakened as Mboyo was by his wounds, they were unable to scour the forest as they might otherwise have done for food. As the days passed their condition had gone from bad to worse, and at last they had painfully, despairingly, made their way back to their old home, to die.
But Samba did not mean them to die. He set himself at once to rescue them. As he knew well, there was little or no food near by; the wanton destruction of plantations had been very thorough. They were too weak to travel. He emptied his tin, to which he had clung through all his wanderings, of the food it contained, and making a rough barrier for them against wild beasts, cheered them with hopeful words and started back on his tracks for a further supply of food.
When he reached the cavern where he had left his fellow-villagers, he found it empty. Apparently even the timid ones had set off to seek the protection of the good Inglesa. He could do nothing that night, but next morning he went down to the stream whence they had obtained their supply of fish and plied his spear until he had caught several. Then he made the long journey back, filling his tin as he went with berries and nuts and anything else from which nourishment could be obtained. His parents were already a little better, thanks to the food he had already given them, and perhaps also to the new spirit awakened in them by the unexpected arrival of their dearly loved son.
Thus for several days Samba watched over them, making long journeys for food. Each time he left them his absence became more prolonged; food was harder to get, and he was less able to hunt for it. While his parents slowly regained a little strength, Samba weakened from day to day. At last he could scarcely drag one foot after the other; he was worn out by the terrible fatigue of constant marching through the forest, and by want of sleep, for he stinted himself of rest so that his parents might be left alone as little as possible. More than once he sank exhausted to the ground, feeling that he could go no farther, do no more. His strength was spent; his head swam with dizziness; a mist gathered before his eyes. Thus he would remain, half conscious, perhaps for minutes, perhaps for hours; he knew not: he had lost count of time. Then with the enforced rest the small remnant of his strength returned to him, and with it the memory of his parents' plight. Upon him depended the life of the two beings he held dearest in the world. As the perils to which they were exposed were borne in upon his fevered intelligence he would struggle to his feet, and grope his way painfully along the forest track, his feet blistered, his flesh torn with spikes and thorns: above all, a dreadful gnawing hunger within him, for he would scarcely spare himself sufficient food for bare sustenance while his parents were ill and in want.
This dark and terrible period was illumined by one ray of hope. His weariness and toil were bearing fruit. Day by day his parents grew stronger; in a fortnight they were able to move about, and a week later they were ready to start for the cavern. But now it was Samba who required tendance. He could walk only a few yards at a time, supported by Mboyo, who almost despaired of reaching the cavern before starvation again overtook them. But the weary journey was completed at last, and after a few days' stay at the cavern within easier reach of food, the party became fit to undertake a longer march, and set out hopefully for Mr. Martindale's camp.
Jack could only conjecture what the terrors of that march had been, for before Samba's story was finished Lepoko returned from the village. He reported that Elobela, furious at the boy's escape, had announced that he would double the punishment to be meted out to his parents. This practice of striking at children through parents, and at parents through children, was so much the rule in the Congo system of tax collection that Jack did not doubt Elbel would carry out his threat. Meanwhile the two prisoners had been removed from the open air before Boloko's hut at the far side of the village, and conveyed to a stoutly-built fetish hut near the stockade. This change of quarters had provoked murmurs not only from the villagers, but from Elbel's own men. The fetish hut was sacred to the medicine man of the village, and even he affected to approach it with fear and trembling. The whole population was talking about the desecration of the hut by the presence of the two captives; men were shaking their heads and saying that something would happen; and the medicine man himself—a hideous figure with his painted skin—did not fail to seize the opportunity of inflaming the minds of the villagers against the impious white man. But no one ventured to remonstrate with Elbel. He meanwhile had gone off with a number of forest guards to an outlying village, leaving orders that the captives were to be watched with particular vigilance.
Samba's face was an image of despair as he listened to Lepoko's report. What hope was there of his parents' rescue now?
"Poor little chap!" said Jack. "After going through so much for them he'll be heart-broken if he loses them now. What can we do for him, Barney?"
"Faith, I can see nothing for it, sorr, but to lead a storming party. And I would go first, wid the greatest pleasure in life."
"That's out of the question, especially as Elbel's away. All's fair in war, they say, Barney; but I shouldn't like to attack the village in Elbel's absence. In any case I don't want to fight if there's any other way. Samba, run away with Pat; don't go beyond the gate; I want to see if I can think of any way of helping your parents."
Both the white men were touched by the boy's wistful look as he left the hut. Jack stuck his legs out straight in front of him, plunged his hands into his pockets, and bent his head upon his breast as he pondered and puzzled. Barney sat for a time leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, smoking an old clay pipe. But he soon tired of inaction, and rising, proceeded to open a tin of oatmeal biscuits in anticipation of lunch. He had just wrenched the lid off when Jack sprang up with a sudden laugh and slapped him on the shoulder.
"I have it, Barney!" he cried. "They said something would happen; well, they were right; something shall happen, old man. And it's your doing!"
"Mine, sorr! Niver a thing have I done this blessed day but smoke me pipe, and just this very minute tear a hole in my hand wid this confounded tin."
"That's it, Barney! It was the tin gave me the idea. You know how giants are made for the Christmas pantomimes?"
"Divil a bit, sorr."
"Well, don't look so surprised. Empty that tin of biscuits while I tell you, and when that's empty, open another and do the same."
"Bedad, sorr, but all the biscuits will spoil."
"Let 'em spoil, man, let 'em spoil. No, I don't mean that, but at present I think more of the tissue paper in those tins than of the biscuits. We'll make a framework, Barney—any stalks or sticks will do for that—and cover it with that tissue paper, and paint a giant's face and shoulders on the paper, and we must find some coloured glass or something for the eyes, and something white for the teeth. We have some candles left, luckily. Don't you think, Barney, a lighted candle behind the paper would make a very decent sort of bogie?"
"And is that the way, sorr, they make the giants at the pantomime?"
"Something like that, Barney. But what do you think of the idea?"
"'Tis the divil's own cleverness in it, sorr. But I'll niver enjoy a pantomime any more, now that I know the way 'tis done. And how will ye go to work wid the bogie, sorr?"
"Why, we'll make the framework to fit my shoulders. Then you'll see. The first thing is to get it made. Go and get the materials. We shall want sticks about three feet long, and ngoji cane[1] to tie them together, as there are no nails here. And you must send over to Imbono and ask for some colouring matter. Red and black are all we shall need. I don't know what we shall do for the eyes; there's no coloured glass handy, I suppose. We must do without if we can't find anything. Now, hurry up, Barney, and send Lepoko to me."
For the rest of the day Jack and Barney were very busy in the hut. It was an easy matter to put the bamboo framework together. The tissue paper from the two biscuit tins proved just sufficient to cover it. When this was done, Jack sketched with his pencil as ugly a face as his artistic imagination was capable of suggesting, then laid on the pigments with his shaving brush, no other being at hand. He gave the giant very thick red lips, opened in a hideous grin, heightening the effect by carefully tying in a number of goat's teeth. The eyes presented a difficulty. No coloured glass could be found among any of the villagers' treasures, and after several attempts to supply its place with leaves, petals of red flowers, and glass beads stuck together, Jack decided that the best effect would be made by leaving the eye slits empty. The making of the bogie was kept a close secret between himself and Barney; but he got some of his men to make two light bamboo ladders, which they did with great expedition, wondering not a little to what use Lokolobolo would put them.
In the afternoon, as soon as he was assured that his bogie would turn out a success, Jack sent Lepoko into Ilola to foment the villagers' fear that the desecration of the fetish hut would certainly be followed by a visit from the offended spirit. He was to talk very seriously of a great medicine man he had once met on the coast, who knew all about the spirits of the streams and woods, and those who protected the forest villages. One of these spirits, said the medicine man, took the form of a giant, and any mortal upon whom he breathed would surely die. Jack knew that this story would be repeated by the villagers to the forest guards, and would soon be the property of the whole community. Reckoning upon the fact that Elbel had his quarters near the gate of the stockade, and that the fetish hut was on the opposite side of the enclosure, not far from the stockade itself, so that the whole width of the village separated them, Jack hoped to create such a panic among the superstitious sentries that he would have time to free the captives before Elbel could intervene.
At dead of night, when he believed that the enemy must be sound asleep, Jack left his camp silently, accompanied only by Samba. He himself carried the bogie; the boy had the ladders. But even his own parents would not have recognized the Samba of this midnight sortie. Jack had been much interested on the way up the Congo by a kind of acacia which, when cut with an axe, exudes a sticky substance, emitting in the darkness a strong phosphorescent glow. With this substance a series of rings had been drawn on Samba's body, and he wore on his head a number of palm leaves arranged like the Prince of Wales's feathers, smeared with the same sticky material. He made an awful imp in attendance on the horrific monster.
Samba stepping close behind Jack to avoid observation, the two made their way stealthily around the village, keeping within the fringe of the encircling forest. Then Jack fixed the bogie upon his shoulders, lighted the candles placed in sconces of twigs cunningly constructed by Barney, and crept forward towards the stockade, closely followed by Samba, both bending low so as to escape discovery before the right moment.
Lepoko had reported that two sentries had been placed over the fetish hut. Jack guessed that by this time their nerves would be at pretty high tension, and that they would not improbably be keeping a safe distance from the awful place they had been set to guard. One of the ladders was planted by Samba against the stockade. On this Jack mounted, and the hideous countenance rose slowly and majestically above the palisade.
A small oil lamp swung from the eaves of the hut. By its light Jack saw the two sentries some distance away, but near enough to keep an eye on the entrance so that the inmates could not break out unnoticed. At first they did not see the apparition. To quicken their perception, Jack gave a weird chuckle—a sound that would have startled even sturdy English schoolboys in the depth of night. The negroes turned round instantly; there was one moment of silence: then shrieking with fear they rushed helter-skelter into the darkness.
Taking the second ladder from Samba, Jack calmly descended on the other side, and was quickly followed by the boy. The latter made straight for the fetish hut. A light shone through the entrance immediately he had entered; there was a muffled shriek; then voices in rapid talk, followed by the sound of heavy hammering. By the light of Jack's electric torch Samba was breaking the fetters.
By this time the whole village was astir. At the first instant of alarm every man, woman, and child gave utterance to a yell; but as soon as they caught sight of the dreadful apparition, the vengeful spirit Whose visit had been predicted, the giant with hideous jaw and flaming eyes, they ceased their cries, and scampered in awestruck silence across the compound towards the gate.
Slowly Samba's parents limped out of the hut after him, and with his assistance mounted the ladder and descended on the other side of the stockade. Jack had bidden Samba take them for a time into the forest. To harbour them in his camp would involve further embroilment with Elbel, a thing to be avoided if possible. They had barely disappeared in the darkness when a shot rang out, and Jack felt something strike the framework above his head. Elbel had been awakened from sleep by the first yell, but on leaving his hut found himself enveloped in so thick a crowd of quivering, panic-stricken negroes that he could neither see what had caused their alarm nor get an answer to his irritable questions. The delay had been just long enough to allow the prisoners to escape.
Jack heard Elbel's voice raging at the people. As another shot whizzed by he reached up and extinguished the candles, then slipped over the stockade, drawing the ladder after him. Burdened with the bogie and the two ladders he hastened away into the forest. For some minutes he wandered about, missing the guidance of Samba, who was with his parents. At length he struck the path, and making his best speed regained his camp. Barney was awaiting him at the gate with loaded rifle, the trained men drawn up under arms.
"The bogie did it!" he cried, feeling very hot and tired now that his task was accomplished.
"Praise be!" ejaculated Barney. "Eyes front! Present arrms! Dismiss!"
[1] This abounds in the forest, and is alike nails, string, and rope for the natives.