"'Me hab catch,' says he. 'Catch what?' says I. 'Begorra!' says he, 'bont'one!'[1] Which was Dutch to me, sorr, only he pointed to the nigger. 'Catch him?' says I. He nodded his head till I thought 'twould break off. 'Ku?'[2] says I. 'Nyango!'[3] says he; and thin I laughed, sorr, 'cos the idea uv a boy taking prisoner a man ten times his size——"
"Draw it mild, Barney."
"True, sorr, he doesn't look quite so big as he did. I wished to wake ye at once, but Samba said no, he'd keep the prisoner safe till your usual time, and here he is, sorr, and the prisoner too."
Jack had been putting on his clothes while Barney spoke. Leaving the hut he saw Samba holding one end of the tendril of a creeper, the other end being looped about the neck of a tall strong negro. Jack listened patiently, and with the aid of many questions, was able to piece out his story.
Creeping in the darkness up the dry river bed some distance from the fort, Samba had seen for a moment the form of a man dimly silhouetted against the starlit sky. Then the man disappeared; but it was child's play to find him again, for he made his way into the channel and moved slowly down towards the fort. He had a rifle, and was head and shoulders taller than Samba; but neither his strength nor his weapon was to avail him against the ingenuity and cat-like agility of his young enemy.
It would have been easy for Samba to stalk him and make an end of him with the knife; but a brilliant idea occurred to the boy: how much better to capture him and take a living prisoner to the fort! For two hours Samba kept in touch with him, never more than a few yards away, yet never by the slightest sound betraying his presence. At last the man found a position above the fort which satisfied him, for he established himself there, apparently intending to wait for the dawn.
Samba felt sure that when he moved to regain his own camp he would retrace his steps up stream. To go down would bring him within view of the fort. His course would be to ascend the channel and fetch a wide circuit back to his own people.
Samba acted quickly on this assumption. As silently as a shadow he glided past the man until, some distance up the channel, groping on the bank, he came across a tough creeper. From this he cut off three or four yards of a pliant tendril, and with deft fingers made a slip-knot at one end. Then he went again down stream, and made his way to a rock overhanging the left bank, whence he had many a time speared fish while the fort was being built. On this rock he lay at full length, ready to move at the slightest sign of the negro stirring.
When dawn broke Samba saw that the man was staring intently at the fort. After a prolonged examination he turned, and, as Samba expected, moved up the gully, keeping under the left bank to avoid observation from the walls. Slowly and cautiously he picked his way upward, little recking of the lithe form stretched like a panther on the rock above. He was passing the rock, the rifle in his left hand, the right hand assisting his wary steps over the rugged channel, when the lasso curled gently over his head; a short vigorous tug, and the man, dropping his rifle and clutching at the strangling cord around his throat, was pulled backward on to the rocky side of the gully. Samba had marked where the rifle fell, and leapt nimbly down. Before the negro, wriggling to his feet, had succeeded in loosing the terrible noose, Samba was at his side, the Albini in his hand.
The suddenness of the onset and the shock of his fall had robbed the man of all power of action. When Samba said that he must either accompany him to Ilombekabasi or be shot, he saw no third course and accepted the first. Perhaps he was tired of his service with Elobela; perhaps he was curious to see the village of the wonderful Lokolobolo; certainly he was very much afraid of being shot. So he made no resistance, but went quickly down the gully, a step or two in advance of Samba, who carried the rifle, as he did not fail to remind his captive from time to time.
Through Lepoko Jack questioned the man. He showed no reluctance to answer; no wish to conceal his employer's purposes.Esprit de corps, Jack surmised, was a sentiment not cultivated on the Congo. The prisoner confessed that Elobela exulted in the belief that within a few days the fort would be compelled to surrender by lack of water. And he had promised his men an orgy when the surrender should take place. Not a soul should be spared. There were man-eaters among his force, and they were looking forward to a choice banquet; many young and tender children frolicked in Ilombekabasi.
Jack felt himself turn pale as he heard this. The facts were coming home to him. The thought that little Bakota, the chubby boy whom Barney employed to wash dishes, or little Ilangala, the girl whom the same indefatigable factotum had taught to darn his socks, might fall into the hands of these ruthless cannibals, to be torn limb from limb, and sacrificed to their brutal appetites, kindled emotion within him much more poignant than the mere report that such things had happened in the collection of rubber on the Congo, somewhere, at some time.
He dismissed the man under guard, and went to his hut, wishing to be alone. An hour or two later Lepoko came to him; the prisoner had given more information.
"Him say, sah, big massa lib for come back up ribber. Him say Elobela no let massa come to Ilombekabasi; catch him, sah."
Here was a new source of uneasiness and anxiety. Jack had longed for his uncle's return; now he almost wished that something had happened to prevent his departure. Already he had had such proofs of Elbel's vindictive and unscrupulous temper that he dreaded what might happen should Mr. Martindale fall into his hands. But for the moment he saw no means of warning his uncle, and he tried to crush his fears and forebodings.
During the next few days several of Elbel's scouts were killed or wounded by Jack's men, who had so far been wonderfully successful in escaping injury. One man of the enemy who was brought in wounded confirmed the first prisoner's statement that the Inglesa was said to be on his way. The river was being watched at various points of its course, and Jack recognized the hopelessness of attempting to evade these sentinels and give his uncle timely warning.
Ten days had passed since the stream had been diverted, and the last captured scout said that Elobela was growing very impatient. He could not understand how the fort had been able to hold out so long. Every day he expected to see a flag of truce hoisted, and to receive a message asking for the terms of surrender. One evening another scout was captured, and from him Jack learnt that his secret had at last been partially discovered. Angry at being so long baulked, Elbel had determined to find out the source whence the defenders obtained the water he knew they must have. He sent out scouts for this express purpose. One of them, creeping up the bed of the stream below the southern face of the fort, had discovered that the precipice, which from a distance looked dry, was running with water, and that a thin stream was trickling into the gully. The ground had gradually become saturated, and the overflow, which had at first disappeared into the earth, was now making itself only too visible. When the discovery was reported to Elbel, he concluded that there must be a spring within the fort. Great was his fury at having wasted so much time and labour fruitlessly. In his anger he declared that the defenders should have plenty of water in future.
"What did he mean by that?" asked Jack.
The man did not know. Elobela did not tell all his purposes to the black men.
The very next morning it was observed that a large body of men was again on the move up the hill. Jack hurried to the top of the north-west blockhouse and followed the movements through his field-glass. This time an even larger force was engaged than had been previously employed to dam the stream. Two parties, riflemen and spearmen, numbering in all, as he estimated, nearly six hundred, were marching up the heights. Clearly some new work was to be undertaken, and it must be of no little magnitude. There were no signs of preparation for an immediate attack. The troops continued their upward march for at least a mile. Then Jack was surprised to see them set to work rolling boulders down the hill towards the slope at the north-east of the fort and the new course of the river. Whatever the scheme was, it involved a great deal of labour, for the whole day was spent upon it, and still the parties of workers had made but small progress down the hillside. It became clear to Jack that the supply of boulders lower down had been used up in constructing the dam. More boulders were evidently required, and to procure these Elbel had had to take his men a considerable distance up the hill.
Late in the afternoon the negroes were marched back to camp. As soon as it appeared safe, Jack sent Samba out to ascertain what had been done. When he came back he reported that a large quantity of stones had been collected near the dam, and that though the main body had returned to their camp, there were still several large parties engaged in hauling boulders nearly a mile away from this point.
Jack could form no idea of what Elbel's plan was; but it seemed to him that in any case the time had come to meet it with a counterstroke. For hours that night he sat with Barney discussing every means of striking a blow that occurred to him; but he came to no decision. A stand-up fight in the open was impossible; there could only be one end to that, outnumbered as Jack was in riflemen by nearly five to one, and at present the enemy's movements did not suggest to him any opportunity for stratagem.
Next morning he stood with Barney at the wall, watching the enemy as once more they marched up to the scene of the previous day's work. As usual, he did his best to count them—no easy matter, for the men did not march in orderly ranks like a disciplined regiment, but either in small groups or in several long files.
"Elbel is getting impatient," remarked Jack at last. "He wants to hurry up that work of his, for I make out that he is taking over fifty more men up to-day."
"Sure there can't be more than fifty left in camp, sorr."
"I suppose not. That's rather risky," he added thoughtfully—"in an enemy's country, Barney."
"Would you be meaning to go for them, sorr?" returned Barney, his eyes lighting up. "Bedad, I'd rejoice in that same. I haven't told ye, sorr, but many's the time I've felt I should just go raging mad if I had to stay in this camp much longer. 'Tis all very safe and comfortable, sorr, but 'tis a prison all the same, and there's no man on earth likes to be caged up less than an Irishman."
"D'you think we could do it, Barney? The camp is only about half a mile below us; Elbel's men are a mile above, some at least a mile and a half. Could we rush the camp before the main body could be brought to its relief?"
"Say 'tis two miles between 'em as the crow flies; they could run that in twelve minutes widout distressing themselves."
"But they couldn't take the shortest road, because that would bring them under fire from our walls. The distance would be a good deal more than two miles. And we should have to cover half that distance to the camp and back, the return journey up hill. It doesn't leave much margin, Barney."
"Five minutes at the very most, sorr. But a man can do a power uv fighting in five minutes."
"Let us think it out carefully. We mustn't throw away all our success by a mad enterprise now. We oughtn't to weaken the defensive strength here much, for Elbel has such numbers that he could afford to lose a few in storming."
"And we needn't, sorr. 'Tis not numbers that will count in rushing the camp; 'tis dash, sorr, and ivery man together."
"That's quite true. And I think our men will work together better than Elbel's. But there's a very serious difficulty—that outpost of his half-way between us and his camp. It's the only post he has kept up permanently, and now it's a nuisance to us."
He referred to a couple of men stationed at the edge of a copse to the west of the stream. They were screened by rocks, and from their position they could see the blockhouses and the tops of the huts, and keep the west and south quarters of the fort under fairly strict observation.
"You see, they would instantly detect any movement of ours down the hill; and by the time we got to the camp the enemy would be on thequi vive."
"There's only wan thing to be done, sorr."
"Well?"
"Shut the eyes and the ears and the mouths uv the niggers at the outpost."
"All very well; but they're too well screened to be shot at, and killing them is the only way to destroy all their senses. Besides, it would be madness to fire. The sound would alarm the enemy and spoil our plans."
"'Twas not meself that thought uv firing at all at all, sorr. I was thinking uv Samba."
"Samba! What can he do?"
"Sure and I don't know no more than the dead, or I'd tell it you meself, sorr. But Samba's the ould wan himself at schaming; will I fetch him?"
"Certainly. We'll see if he can do anything. Hurry up!"
[1] This man.
[2] Are you speaking the truth?
[3] Mother!—the strongest affirmative.
Barney brought back with him both father and son. Mboyo was a finely-built negro, but Samba, who had been growing rapidly, promised to outstrip his father in height, as he already excelled him in nimbleness of wit. He had a noble brow, and eyes of extraordinary lustre; and Jack could not help contrasting him with the mean-looking white man, who, in the providence of King Leopold, was entrusted with the lives of such people as these.
Jack explained his purpose, and the difficulty which seemed to stand in the way. A glance was exchanged between Samba and his father; then the boy said that they would deal with the outpost.
"How will you do it?"
"We will creep upon them."
"But it is daylight."
"True. We may fail; but we will do our best."
"Very well. Now we must get our men together, Barney. It will be useless for Samba and Mboyo to start until we are ready. In fact, we will postpone the whole thing for an hour or two. In the hottest part of the day the men in the camp will very likely be dozing or fast asleep; even if they're awake, they'll probably not have all their wits about them."
He selected twenty riflemen, including Imbono, Makoko, and Lepoko, and fifty spearmen, the pick of the force, and ordered them to assemble at a given signal at a small exit he had recently had cut in the base of the wall on the gully side. The hole had been made at a spot where the gully was very rugged and covered with creepers, so that any one leaving the fort by this small aperture could scarcely be detected except by an observer placed immediately opposite. The portion of the wall which had been removed could be replaced, and it would be impossible, save on very close scrutiny, to discover the existence of the exit.
A dozen of the men, besides carrying their weapons, were to sling round their shoulders some large fireballs which had been made under Barney's superintendence from the resin in the confiscated barrels.
"Begorra, sorr, 'tis meself that has an idea!" cried Barney in the midst of these preparations. "Couldn't we do something to hould the attention uv those villains at the outpost while Samba and the chief are doing their job?"
"A good idea, indeed. What do you suggest?"
"'Deed now, I wish we had Mike Henchie and Denis O'Sullivan and a few more uv the bhoys. We'd treat the niggers to the finest dancing wid the shillelagh that iver was seen this side uv Limerick."
"I wish we had! You speak of shillelaghs. Won't Indian clubs do? I have it! We'll get some of the children to go through their exercises. Go and collect them, Samba—Lofinda and Ilafa and Lokilo and Isungila, they're the best, and about a dozen more. But hang it! I forgot. They won't be seen over the wall."
"Sure there's the platform by the blockhouse, sorr. 'Tis uncommon small for a stage play, but 'tis meself could make it wider in a brace uv shakes."
"Then do so, like a good fellow. It's a capital idea of yours, Barney."
The platform was quickly enlarged. Then, just after midday, when the sun was blazing fiercely, and in the ordinary course of things everybody would be at rest in the huts, Barney marshalled some twenty children, boys and girls, on the platform, and Jack accompanied Mboyo and Samba to the little exit.
"You must give me a signal if you succeed with the outpost," said Jack, as they prepared to slip through. "It must not be a sound. You had better show yourself for a moment above the rocks, Samba."
The instant they had reached the gully, Imbono's drummer began to beat his drum, not with the powerful strokes that would have sent a thunderous boom echoing for miles around, but with gentle taps that would scarcely be heard beyond the two outposts. At the same time two or three children blew softly through their little trumpets of banana leaves. In a moment two woolly heads could be seen cautiously peeping over the rocks for which Mboyo and Samba were making. Then the performance began. Instructed by Barney, the children on the platform swung their clubs about, wondering why they were forbidden to sing the song about Lokolobolo which usually accompanied their exercise. They knew nothing of the intention of their instructor, nor why he had chosen this hot hour instead of the cool of the evening; but they loved him, and delighted in the rhythmic motion, and they plied their clubs gracefully, all unconscious of the four curious eyes watching them from the rocks a few hundred yards away.
Jack saw nothing of their pretty movements. He was at the wall. The two men of the outpost gazed at the children. Jack gazed at them. Below him squatted his warriors, subdued to unnatural quietness by the thought of what was before them. Impatiently they waited for the word. They did not know exactly what they were to do; Lokolobolo had simply said they were to follow him. But they knew Lokolobolo; had he not time and again brought Elobela's schemes to nought? Lokolobolo had said they were to follow him; and they were confident that where he led was the one place in the world for them.
Twenty minutes passed. The performance on the platform still went on. Then Jack suddenly saw the two black heads above the rocks disappear. Next moment Samba's head showed itself where they had been.
"Aiyoko!"[1] said Jack to his men.
Quickly, one by one, they slipped through the narrow hole, and formed up under cover of the thick-growing creepers in the gully. Jack went last, saw that the opening was closed behind him, and turned to address his men.
"We are going to Elobela's camp," he said. "We shall go down the gully until we come opposite to it, then I shall lead you; you will come behind me silently, keeping your ranks. I hope the men in the camp may be asleep. You will not fire until I give the word. When we have driven them out of the camp, those of you who have fireballs will set fire to their huts. Then seize on all the guns and ammunition you can find, and return as quickly as possible to the fort."
The men's eyes gleamed with excitement. Stealthily as panthers they crept down the dry gully after their leader. They did not know that behind them, at the wall, Barney, having abruptly dismissed the children, was watching with a very wistful look. The good fellow wished that he were with them.
Down they went, as rapidly as the rough ground permitted, scarcely making a sound. At length Jack halted. He turned and gave one quick glance over the eager faces; there was no falterer among his band. Then he scrambled over the brink of the gully. Lepoko was first after him, Makoko was second; the rest of the men stood upon no order of going, but made each for the easiest point of ascent. And there Mboyo and Samba joined them. Standing on gently sloping ground Jack looked eagerly ahead. Had his movement been detected? There, two hundred yards away, was the camp within its light stockade. Not a man was to be seen. The midday sun beat fiercely down; doubtless the garrison were enjoying a siesta. No sentry was posted, or, if posted, he had forgotten his duty. The gate of Ilombekabasi on the northern face was far away; what simple negro would suppose that the enemy was approaching silently from the nearer end?
In compact and orderly ranks Jack's men were sprinting noiselessly after him, holding their weapons so that no clash or click should disturb the silent camp. They were within a few yards of the stockade when suddenly there was a cry. All were black men in the camp save one. At that moment he, in the intolerable heat, was about to leave his tent and bathe in a clear stream that ran through the enclosure. He saw the running band; he cried to his men, and, flinging away his towel, sprang back to his hut to get his rifle. He was too late. Jack, getting a "shove up" from one of his men, was on and over the stockade in a few seconds; his men were leaping all around him. And now their tongues were loosened. Yells and rifle shots aroused the lethargic garrison, some from sleep within their huts, some from drowsy lolling in shady quarters by the stockade. For most of them one glance was enough. Here was Lokolobolo, the Inglesa, and with him a crowd of men among whom they recognized some they had beaten in Ilola with the whip. With frantic yells of alarm they ran for dear life across the compound to the gate on the further side, out into the open, never pausing until they had gained the forest fringe, with half a mile between them and the men they feared.
But not all; the white man had seized his rifle and collected a small band about him. Mboyo, near Jack, gave a cry; among the negroes around the white man he saw Boloko, his renegade brother. Taking cover where they could, they began to fire at the invaders, hastily, frantically. But Jack had his men in hand. Bidding them also take cover, he sent those who had fireballs to creep round the camp and set light to the huts. Soon volumes of dense suffocating smoke bellied across the camp, screening attackers from defenders. Then Jack gave the order to close in upon the few who resisted. With triumphant yells his men swept forward through the smoke—a few shots were fired; one or two men fell; then the white man, with Boloko and the rest of his band at his heels, made a dash for the gate. Two men dropped ere they could pass through; but the white man and Boloko and half a dozen others were more fortunate. Out in the open they ran like hunted deer; and Elobela's burning camp was left in the hands of Lokolobolo.
Jack lost no time. The stockade and the huts on the windward side were ablaze; soon the whole place must be in flames. The sound of the shots, the sight of the smoke, would bring back Elbel and all his force. Shouting to his men to collect all the arms and ammunition they could carry and then rush back to the fort, Jack went outside the stockade beyond the cloud of smoke to keep watch. The flames were roaring and crackling behind him; but even at this distance, nearly two miles from the place where Elbel was at work, he fancied he heard the shouts of the amazed and angry enemy. Then suddenly the deep resonant note of Imbono's drum struck his ear. Barney must be warning him! He turned and called to his men to delay no longer. Back to the fort! Meanwhile Barney had followed the movements of the gallant band. He heard the shots and yells, and saw the first spiral of smoke; then he hastened to the northwest blockhouse, calling to all the riflemen left with him to line the wall overlooking the gully. In a few minutes he saw the negroes above dashing helter-skelter down the slope. And yes! there was Elbel at their head, a figure in white, running as though he were running for a prize. Barney smiled with satisfaction.
"Begorra! They're forgetting me!" he murmured pleasantly, as he saw that the enemy, in their frantic haste, were making for the shortest path along the further edge of the gully, within easy range of the camp. Barney determined to wait until they were well abreast of him, and then give them a volley. But the impatience of a negro forced his hand. In the excitement of the moment one of the riflemen, free from Jack's restraining presence, fired his piece. The shot brought Elbel to his senses. He suddenly remembered the danger into which he was running. Turning sharp to the right, he sprinted straight to the cover of the copse. Some of his men followed him; others ran heedlessly on. Growling at the man who had spoilt his scheme, Barney gave the order to fire, and half a dozen of the enemy fell. But Elbel had escaped; and the rest of his men took warning and diverged from the direct course as he had done. Barney saw that further efforts would be wasted; so, ordering his men to cease fire, he returned to the other end of the fort to see how Jack was faring.
Jack rushes Elbel's campJack rushes Elbel's camp
Here they come! Makoko is leading, staggering up the gully under the weight of half a dozen rifles. Behind him is Lombola, poising a load of ammunition on his head. There is Lingombela, with a bundle of cartridge pouches roped to his back. So one after another they file up the gully. Barney opens the little gate in the wall; willing helpers within haul the loads through. No man enters until all the rifles and ammunition have been handed in; then they scramble through, laughing and jesting; and Jack comes last of all.
"Well done, sorr!" said Barney heartily.
"Well done, Barney!" returned Jack, gripping his hand. "By Jove! What's that?"
A loud explosion set the air trembling, and a hundred echoes flying from the rocks around. A dense volume of flame and smoke rose from the site of Elbel's camp.
"There goes the last of their ammunition!" said Jack with a laugh. "We've got best part of it here."
"Bedad, sorr, now's the chance for me meself. Give me leave, sorr, and I'll go at them wid the men and wipe them clean off the face uv the earth."
"Stop, stop, Barney! We mustn't be impatient. They've no more ammunition in reserve, but every man who was with Elbel will have a good many rounds with him. We can't risk a pitched battle against two hundred rifles."
"Ochone, sorr! Will I niver get a chance at all?"
"Cheer up! Your chance will come, and you've done splendidly as it is. It was a fine idea of yours to sound that drum when you saw them running down. And it was your idea to set something going here to occupy the attention of the outpost. By the by, I haven't had time to ask Samba yet how they dealt with those fellows."
He called up the boy. His story was very simple. Mboyo and he had crawled round under cover of the rocks and bushes, and came upon the unsuspecting sentries from the rear. They had their knives; the men died without a sound. Jack shuddered. It was not an Englishman's way of dealing with an enemy; it was the negro's way. But his feeling of compunction was somewhat diminished when Samba added that one of the men was Bomolo, the brutal forest guard who had been the terror of Imbono's people. For how many maimings and murders had this man been responsible? Surely in this quick death he had met with far less than his deserts!
Jack had every reason to be satisfied with the success of his sortie. To have burned the enemy's camp; captured more than half his reserve ammunition, and destroyed the rest, was no mean feat. And as for the people of Ilombekabasi, they were frantic with delight. So quietly had Jack made his preparations that the majority of the people knew nothing of what was happening until they heard the first shot. Then they crowded to the wall and watched eagerly. The camp itself was hidden from them by the contour of the hill, but they saw the smoke rising above the bushes and hailed it with loud shouts. When they understood the meaning of the great noise that followed Lokolobolo's return they were almost beside themselves with joy. And in the cool of the evening Jack allowed them to hold a great feast, after which Imbono reeled off a long oration in praise of Lokolobolo, and the village bard composed and chanted a new song in numerous stanzas, the whole populace roaring the chorus:—
O kelaki na?Bomong'ilombe,Bosak'owa wanga,[2]Lokolobolo!
For several days after the sortie Jack was left undisturbed. He guessed how Elbel was occupied, and his conjecture was confirmed by Samba, who at once resumed his scouting work. Elbel was constructing another camp a good distance east of his former position. And he was spending more time and labour on it; the stockade was more than usually high and thick, and was flanked with bastions after the model of the blockhouses at Ilombekabasi.
Samba also discovered that on the day after the burning of the camp one of the white men with twenty paddlers had gone down the river. Jack had no doubt that he had been despatched to the headquarters of his Company for more ammunition. Clearly Elbel was rendered only the more determined by his successive rebuffs.
"And I don't wonder at it," remarked Jack, talking the situation over with Barney. "We are making hay of the rubber collection in this district, and Elbel's Company will be pretty mad with him. I understand why he hasn't got help before this from the State forces. For one thing he has got to rehabilitate himself with his Company, who'll certainly cashier him if he doesn't find a way out of the mess he has got into. For another thing, if he brings the State forces on the scene, he'll most likely lose all chance of collaring uncle's gold, and I believe that's at the bottom of it right through. But things can't last much longer as they are. The State must intervene soon, whether Elbel likes it or not."
"And what then, sorr?"
"Then it will be all up with us, I'm afraid. But we won't look forward to that. I only wish I could find some means of sending word to England of what goes on here, and what we're doing."
"What would be the good uv it, sorr? Sorrow a bit."
"Why do you say that?"
"Why! Because in England they're all too busy making money to attend to such things—making money, sorr, or fighting tooth and nail about education, or dreaming about football. Now if Ireland had Home Rule——"
"No politics, Barney! I don't agree with you. I'm as sure as I'm alive that if the people at home really knew how abominably the natives are treated—knew about the floggings and maimings and murders, they'd make such an outcry that either King Leopold would be forced to change his policy, or some one would step in and manage things for him. If only England and America would join hands!"
When Elbel had completed his new camp, he resumed the work far up the hill which the sortie had interrupted. Jack was still at a loss to understand what the Belgian's scheme was, and he was prevented from finding out, by the fact that every night a strong body was left on guard, as he knew by the many camp fires at the top of the ridge.
One afternoon, however, the secret was explained. One of the men placed on the look-out at the north-eastern blockhouse reported that he saw a stream of water rushing down the hill. Jack hastened to the spot with his field-glass, and was somewhat alarmed to see that the man's information was correct; water was certainly streaming down over the rocky ground, making a course that seemingly would bring it right against the fort wall.
"He's going to flood us out!" thought Jack. "He must have built an embankment across the new course of the river."
This was a manoeuvre which he had not foreseen, and one which it seemed impossible to counter. The water, gathering impetus as it flowed down the hill, would almost infallibly undermine the wall, even if it had not force enough to wash it away altogether. But as he watched, for the moment so much taken aback that he could not think of anything to be done, his consternation was changed to amusement, for about two hundred yards up the hill the water made a swerve to his right, and flowed with increasing rapidity in that direction. The slope was such that, instead of coming straight down as Elbel had evidently expected, the stream, finding the easiest course, took at this point a trend to the south-east. After all it would only wash the blockhouse on which Jack stood.
Jack instantly saw what he ought to do. Running down to the base of the stockade, he summoned a large body of workers, and set some of them to dismantle the blockhouse, the remainder to pull down the wall and build it up again several feet behind its former position, and in such a way that instead of forming the angle of a square it lay across, making a line parallel with the course of the stream.
They had hardly got to work before the full body of water was upon them. But so many men were employed, and they moved so rapidly, that only one or two logs were carried away by the current, the solidly built blockhouse serving as a dam and protecting the workers behind. The main stream fell with a roar over the steep slope on the edge of which the blockhouse stood—a slope only less precipitous than that of the cataract, now a thing of the past, at the opposite corner of the fort.
Only a few minutes later a tremendous outcry was heard from the direction of Elbel's new camp. For a moment it startled Jack. Had the enemy taken advantage of the sudden flood to organize an attack in force? But the thought had hardly crossed his mind when he burst into laughter, causing his workers to pause and look round in astonishment.
"A magnificent idea!" he said to Barney. "D'you see what has happened? The silly fellow is flooding his own camp!"
"Bedad, sorr, that's what comes uv being too clever by half."
"It comes of playing with things he knows nothing about. He's tried an engineer's job without experience and without surveying instruments. It's ticklish work interfering with the course of nature, and you never know what will happen if you set water on the run. Look at them, Barney! 'Pon my soul, it's the funniest thing I've ever seen. There's Elbel himself, do you see? scampering down the hill like a madman."
"Like a mad gorilla, sorr."
"And all his men after him! By Jove! can't they yell! He'll have to shift his quarters again, Barney."
"And sure I hope all his food is soaked and all his clothes in the wash-tub. A bath will do those greasy niggers no harm."
"We'll build up our blockhouse a few yards to the left, and be none the worse. Let's go and lend a hand."
[1] Now.
[2] Who did it?The master of the house,A most clever person.
Ilombekabasi had peace. Elbel was sufficiently occupied for a couple of days in constructing a third camp, which he placed still further eastward in the direction of Ilola, but still between Jack and the main river. And even when the camp was completed he gave no sign of further operations. Jack was forced to conclude that his enemy was tired of his continual failures, and would now wait inactive until reinforcements reached him.
One afternoon, about a week after the flooding of the camp, a negro was seen running up the gully. Shots rang out in the distance, and far down the gully appeared a band of Elbel's men, who relinquished the pursuit of the runner on coming within sight of the fort. The man scampered up to the hole in the stockade. He was unarmed save for the universal dagger. He cried out to be admitted; he had a message for the Inglesa; and Jack ordered him to be hauled up through the aperture.
"Me nearly lib for dead," he said panting, "me run too fast."
"Well, who are you, and what do you want?"
"Me Lofembi, sah. Me boy massa him uncle."
"What!"
"Yes, sah; me massa Martindale boy."
"Where is he?" cried Jack, feeling himself go pale with excitement at the sudden news.
"He long long in forest, sah. Come up ribber in boat; one man say young massa shut up in Ilombekabasi; old massa get out of boat, hide in forest so long for young massa to know. He plenty sick at Boma, sah; nearly gone dead. Fust small small better, sah! lib for go sick all same; talk small small, sah; no make head straight. He try write; no can hold black stick; he fit for go sleep."
"Good heavens, Barney! Poor old Uncle!"
"Sure, the man may be a liar, sorr," said Barney.
Jack gave the man a keen glance.
"My uncle tried to write, you say. What did he try to write?"
"Bonkanda to massa; oh yes! He want say he come; he want know what he fit to do. No want see bad man; no; want to come to Ilombekabasi. Plenty hard job, 'cos bad man dah." He pointed in the direction of Elbel's camp.
"If he is so very sick, how did he come from the river into the forest?"
"Four five men carry him, sah. Plenty big lump; oh yes."
"Why did he send you? Where's Nando?"
"Nando lib for sick at Leo[1]; no fit to come; him plenty sick; oh yes. Me Lofembi; me come, do talk for massa. Massa gib fing to show young massa; here he am."
He produced a gold scarf ring and handed it to Jack.
"This is my uncle's, sure enough, Barney. It's genuine. What on earth can we do? Poor old Uncle! In his last note he said he was recovering; he must have had a relapse. How can we get him into the fort? We must bring him in somehow. It's awful to think of him lying ill in the forest without any one to look after him; and I am cooped up here!"
"Send Samba to fetch him, sorr."
"I can't, Barney," said Jack after a moment's thought. "Samba goes alone safely, but I simply can't trust him to lead a party in, especially as Uncle seems to be too bad to move. I can't see any way out of it. If I took some men out myself, and made a dash for it, the enemy would be on our track, and we should have to fight our way in against the whole lot of them. Impossible; they outnumber us so greatly."
Barney was sympathetic, but unable to offer a suggestion. Bidding him keep an eye on Lofembi, Jack went back to his hut to think the matter out by himself. He was torn with anxiety. An unlucky chance might at any moment reveal his uncle's whereabouts, and he knew what mercy Mr. Martindale might expect if he fell into the hands of Elbel. Something must be done; yet what? A dozen plans occurred to him, only to be rejected.
One thing was clear; whatever was done must be done either by Barney or himself. Mr. Martindale being incapacitated, another white man must lead his party, for the natives, unless properly led, might be seized with panic at the slightest check and bolt.
Barney he could not send. There was no finesse about him; he was a good fighter, with any amount of pluck, but the very antithesis of a scout. Jack felt that he must go himself if his uncle was to have the best chance of getting in. There was no other course that offered the same prospect of success.
What were his chances? His sortie against the enemy's camp had been a brilliant success. Since then Elbel had been practically on the defensive; he was afraid of wasting ammunition; afraid also of leaving any small body unsupported by his main force. During the past week Jack's scouts had reported night after night that no pickets had been posted as formerly around the fort, so that, except on the south-east, where Elbel's camp was, the neighbourhood was open. He could thus easily steal out at the gate in the northern wall under cover of darkness, and by making a wide detour ought to be able to bring Mr. Martindale and his party back in safety.
Yet he had qualms. Ought he in any case to leave the fort? Supposing he failed, what would happen to the hundreds of people who depended on him? Driven by force of circumstances into a life-and-death struggle with Elbel's Company, he had not ventured to look forward to its ultimate issue. The duty of the moment seemed to be to hold on, to keep the poor negroes out of the clutches of their oppressors, and leave the end with God. Could he trust Barney to continue his work if he should be removed? Ought he to think of it? Thus he pondered and puzzled, the arguments for and against chasing one another in a circle through his mind.
He had reached no conclusion when Barney came to the hut. The good fellow seemed a little uncomfortable; he stood hesitating at the entrance, his readiness of speech having apparently deserted him.
"Barney, I'm the most miserable fellow alive," said Jack, looking up.
"All but wan, sorr; all but wan. 'Tis the master who is more miserable than you or me, sorr. Think uv it; alone in the forest, wid none but black idjuts to wait upon 'm. I've been thinking mighty hard, sorr, and the end uv it is this; 'tis you that must go, sorr. Sure I can hold the fort while you are gone."
"But what if I never come back, Barney?"
"'Twould be a desp'rate hard case, sorr. But what thin? I'm an Irishman, and, bedad! 'twas for hard cases Irishmen was born. Niver a fear but I'd stick to it, sorr. We've beaten the scuts all along. And if the captain goes, sorr, sure the liftinant takes his place and does his best to fill it dacently. What would have happened if ye had got knocked on the head in that sortie uv yours? Do ye think Barney O'Dowd would have hung out a white rag and surrindered? Sorrow a bit! I'd have nailed my colours to the mast, speakin' by the card, and dared the rufn'ns to come and take 'em."
"You're a brick, Barney!" cried Jack, springing up and gripping him by the hand. "I'll go! I'll take Samba, this very night, and bring dear old Uncle in."
"That's right, sorr. And we'll nurse him back to health and strength, and make him colonel uv the reg'mint."
"Call out those men who captured Elbel's camp with me, and place them at the gate to make a dash if they hear firing. And meanwhile you man the wall and hold yourself ready to cover our entry. And, Barney, if I'm caught and Uncle doesn't come in, hold the fort as long as you can. Don't make sorties; simply sit tight. The rainy season will be on us soon, Imbono said, and Elbel's camp is so badly placed that when the rains come he will be swamped. He may then get tired of the siege and draw off. If he does, I should arrange with the two chiefs for a trek into the forest. But if Elbel still presses the siege and food begins to run short—it won't last for ever, you know—you had better choose a dark night and make a dash out to the north-east. If you go quickly you'll get a good many hours' start before Elbel realizes what has happened; and when once in the forest you may shake off pursuit. Our rifles will form a rearguard."
"I'll do all that same, sorr. But I hope it will not be me fate to do it at all. I'd sooner be liftinant for iver, sorr."
Shortly after nightfall, Jack, Samba, and Lofembi the messenger, made their exit by the hole in the wall. Jack had wished to follow his original intention and leave by the northern gate, but Lofembi earnestly begged him not to do this, saying that he would not be able to find the way if he did not go out by the same gate that he had entered. At the moment of departure Barney gripped Jack's hand.
"The blessed angels go wid ye, sorr, and bring poor ould master back in safety."
"Good-bye, Barney. Hope for the best, and remember—hold the fort."
It was slow work moving across the broken hilly country by night; but Lofembi had previously pointed out to Samba the general direction in which they had to go, and the boy was able to keep a fairly straight course. They had to strike, said Lofembi, a path through the forest following the course of the sun. Mr. Martindale's camp was pitched close to the path, not far from where two large trees had fallen across it. In about an hour they came to the outskirts of the forest in that direction, the course being in the main the same as that taken by Jack some weeks previously on his buffalo hunt, but leaving the open country somewhat earlier. So far there had been no sign of the enemy.
Progress was even slower in the forest itself. More than once Lofembi halted in doubt; then after a whispered colloquy with Samba he started again, guiding himself by the stars seen through the tree tops. Save for these whispered conversations not a word was spoken. Jack was too much absorbed in his mission, too anxious about his uncle, to have any inclination to talk, even if the risk of coming upon a scout of Elbel's had not been present to his mind.
At length the three came upon the narrow track Lofembi had been seeking. Here they went in Indian file, the guide leading, Jack coming next, then Samba. The path was so narrow and so beset by obstructions that walking was a toil. Sometimes Lofembi swerved to one side or the other to avoid a prickly bush; sometimes they had to clamber over a fallen tree; more often the path wound round the obstacle. It seemed to Jack many hours since they started; in reality it was scarcely more than three before they came upon the two fallen trees. Lofembi stopped.
"Small small now, massa," he whispered.
He gave a long low-pitched call. From the blackness on the left came a similar call in reply. The guide moved forward, plunging boldly along a narrow path—more narrow even than that by which they had reached this spot—in the direction of the sound. Jack was about to follow him when Samba touched him on the arm.
"Samba go first," said the boy.
"No, no," said Jack kindly. "We are all right; this is my place, Samba."
His heart beat faster under the stress of his emotion as he followed Lofembi through the tangled undergrowth. How would he find his uncle? Was he very ill? Surely, surely, he was not in danger—he would not die? Beads of sweat broke out upon Jack's brow as the terrible possibility occurred to him. He went on almost blindly. Three minutes' groping in the darkness brought them to a natural clearing, in which, by the dim light of the stars, Jack saw a couple of tents, and, some little distance from them, what appeared to be a number of roughly made grass huts.
"Dis way, massa," said Lofembi, touching Jack on the arm.
"Which one?" said Jack in a low tone,
"Dat one," replied Lofembi, pointing to the nearer of the two huts.
He stepped forward into the clearing. At the same moment a score of dusky forms rose and closed in stealthily from the undergrowth around. With a little cry Samba plucked Jack by the sleeve. But almost unconsciously he shook off the detaining hand, so full of anxiety was he. His uncle must be very ill, or he would be standing by the tent to welcome him. He sprang forward, stopped, and raised the flap of the tent. By the light of a small oil lamp swinging from the top he saw a form stretched upon a camp bed.
"Uncle! uncle!" he cried, falling on his knees by the side of the prostrate figure.
A low murmur answered him. At the same moment he heard a sighing groan, as it were, from the entrance to the hut, and the sound of a heavy fall. Then the forest glade rang with fierce shouts and the crack of a rifle. Jack rose to his feet, confused by this sudden turmoil coming when his nerves were overstrung. As he half turned, a figure came out of the darkness towards him.
"Good efening, Mr. Shalloner," said a smooth voice.
Jack started back.
"Yes, it is me—Guillaume Elbel, bien entendu!"
[1] Leopoldville.
Jack saw through it all now. Elbel had captured his uncle, and used him to decoy from the fort the enemy whom fair fighting and open manoeuvres had failed to dislodge. He could have shot the Belgian with his rifle where he stood, but saw in a flash how vain the action would be. Outside was a horde of savage natives, who would instantly wreak vengeance on the white men. Mr. Martindale was too weak to resist, and what he would suffer at their hands was too horrible to be thought of.
When Elbel had spoken Jack turned once more to his uncle, and kneeling down by his bedside clasped his hand. His pressure was returned but feebly. Mr. Martindale's weakness, coupled with his distress at Jack's capture, rendered him unable to speak.
"I beg you listen to me," said Elbel. "I have a varrant for the arrest of Chon Martindale, Chon Shalloner, and a third man, whose name I do not know, on a charge dat dey incite de natives to rebel against de Congo Free State. I have two of the dree; dat is vell. It vill be for your advantage, to-morrow, to send a written order to de third man to render dat fort on de hill. It vill be for your advantage at de trial. If de fort resist longer, and cause blood to spill, it vill be so much de vorse for you ven you appear before de court in Boma."
"Where is your warrant, Mr. Elbel?" asked Jack.
"Ah! I have it not viz me; of course, it is in my camp."
"I suppose you are going to take us there? You can show it to me when we get there."
"No, you meestake. I vill not take you to my camp. I vill send you both at vunce to Boma, vere you vill be tried."
"But my uncle is not in a condition to travel; you know that."
"Bah! He vas in condition to travel here; vell, he is in condition to travel back."
"But that is preposterous, Mr. Elbel. Are you absolutely inhuman? I find my uncle so ill that he cannot even speak to me. God knows how much his illness is due to you or your friends. At least you will allow him to remain until I can give him some little attention—until he regains a little strength. To do anything else will be nothing less than murder."
"Dat is not my affair," said Elbel with a shrug. "It is instructed me to send you to Boma. To Boma zerefore muss you go, and at vunce." Then, as a thought struck him, he added, "Though truly I will vait vun day, two days perhaps, if you give command to de man in de fort to render himself."
"Never!" came in a fierce whisper from the bed. Mr. Martindale had gathered his little strength for Jack's sake. "Never! We will make no terms with you. What my nephew has done he has done merely in self-defence against the acts, the illegal acts, of you and your freebooters. I am an American citizen; he is a British subject; as you, yes, and your Free State, will find to your cost."
He spoke in feeble gasps, yet with an energy that spoke of an unconquerable spirit. The exertion exhausted him, and he fell back on the bed from which he had half risen.
"Bah! Fine vords!" said Elbel. "Ver' fine vords, monsieur. You say you are American—you dink dat frighten me! Vy, I laugh. Vat good is de American or de English in de Congo Free State? Ve mock of dem. Ve have our own vays to deal viz such canaille. You vill not send order to de fort? Ver' vell; I do vizout."
"Your warrant won't hold in any case. No one can order the arrest of a man unnamed."
"You zink so? Ver' vell, it does not matter. You vill have opportunity to zink about my vords as you promenade yourselves to Boma. So I vish you bonsoir. To attempt to escape, I tell you it is impossible. You see dat? You hab revolver, Mr. Shalloner. Be so kind to gif me dat."
Jack hesitated. But he saw that resistance was useless, and handed over the weapon.
"Danks. In de morning you vill begin your promenade to Boma. Au revoir, messieurs; au revoir Monsieur Chon Shalloner!"
He left the tent. The interview had been too much for Mr. Martindale. He lay half unconscious, and was scarcely roused when Elbel, in a couple of minutes, returned in a towering rage.
"You, Chon Shalloner!" he shouted. "You make de natives to rebel, and more, you make dem to do murder. Dat man, who I sent to the fort, he lie now outside, a dead man. Some vun dat come viz you he stab him in de back. You English hombog, I teach you. Dey shall know of dis in Boma."
Jack did not condescend to answer him, and Elbel flung out of the tent. If his messenger was dead, he had paid the penalty of his treachery. Jack could only pity the poor wretch for meeting with such an end in such a service. No doubt it was Samba's doing. Jack remembered now the groan and the fall outside. Had Samba escaped? He was anxious on the boy's behalf, but it was impossible to ascertain what had happened to him. From Elbel's manner and words he inferred that Samba was safe. And as for Elbel's indignation at the deed Jack was not impressed by it. When he thought of the murders and maimings this man was answerable for, he could find no blame for the faithful boy who had punished as his instincts taught him, the spy who had betrayed his master.
Jack was left alone with his uncle. He looked vainly round the tent for a restorative—a drug, a flask of brandy, even a cup of water. There was nothing. He bent over the still form, and touching the brow, gently, felt it burning with the heat of fever. He knew that his uncle was accustomed to keep a small phial of quinine pills in his waistcoat pocket, and searching for that he found it and persuaded the sick man to swallow a little of the medicine. Then he sat on the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do.
How fully his forebodings had been justified! It had been a mistake to leave the fort. And yet he could not rue it, for otherwise he might never have seen his uncle again. He looked at the face with the half-closed eyes; how thin it was! how pale! The ruddy hue, the rounded shape of health, were gone. Where was that bright twinkling eye that looked so shrewdly out from beneath a shaggy brow? What sufferings he must have undergone! At that moment Jack looked over the past months to the day when he so light-heartedly bade his uncle good-bye, and so cheerfully accepted the charge laid upon him. How he wished they had never been parted!
And then another thought drove out his regret. But for this parting Ilombekabasi would never have been, and several hundreds of poor black people would almost certainly have been tortured, mutilated, done to death, in the name of law. Could he have done otherwise than he had done? Had Providence, moving in mysterious ways, arranged all this—that one should suffer for the sake of many? He did not know; he could not think; his mind seemed to be wrapt in a cloud of mist, through which he saw nothing but the present fact—that his uncle lay before him, sick—perhaps unto death.
By and by a negro entered, bearing food and palm wine. Mr. Martindale could not eat, but the wine revived him.
"Jack, old boy!"
Jack knelt by the bedside, clasping his uncle's hand.
"Jack, I must tell you what happened."
"Don't, Uncle; you will distress yourself."
"No, I shall do myself no harm. If you will be patient—for I shall be slow—a little at a time, Jack. You must know. I've got pretty nearly to the end of my tether, dear boy. I shan't live to do anything for these poor niggers, but you will—you will, Jack. And I want you to vow here, at this moment, to do what I must leave undone—fight the Congo State, Jack, fight Leopold, with your hands, your tongue, your pen, here, in Europe, in America; fight him in the name of humanity and of God. Promise me that, Jack, so that if I do not live till the morning I shall at least die happy."
"God helping me, Uncle, I will."
Mr. Martindale pressed his hand. For some time there was silence, then the elder man began again.
"I must try to speak calmly, my boy; I have so little strength; but it is hard. I told you in my first letter of what I had learnt about the ways of the Congo State. You wondered, I dare say, why I never mentioned them again. You will understand why. When I got to Boma, I reported to the Governor-General, in a written memorial, the incidents that occurred as we went up the river—the altercation with Elbel, the attempt on our canoes, the night attack on our camp, frustrated by Samba. (I can't tell you how glad I was, Jack, when you told me the boy had returned to you.) I forestalled the probable answer that Elbel had nothing to do with those attempts by pointing out that the negroes Samba saw were fully armed, and must have been under a white man's control. Even then it was illegal, for I found that men in Elbel's position, representing Concessions, are not entitled to take more than five riflemen as escort beyond the limits of their trading factories. In my memorial I said that, after these attacks on me, I should be forced in self-defence to arm a certain number of my followers, and I disclaimed responsibility for the consequences. I also reported the scene of desolation at Banonga, and the story I had heard from Samba's lips; and called upon the Governor-General to take instant action in the matter."
Jack moistened his uncle's lips, and he continued:
"I got an acknowledgment, polite enough, even pleasant, promising that these matters should be inquired into. The Governor-General added that the possession of firearms and the arming of the natives being prohibited by law, I should become liable to heavy penalties and imprisonment if the law was broken. I had luckily already sent you the rifles and ammunition; though had I not done so, I could easily have bribed an official to give me a permit to carry arms; it would have cost me five hundred francs for the licence, and as much as I chose for the bribe.
"For a week I heard no more. I was deceived by the politeness of the Governor-General's letter into believing that I was perfectly safe, and free to do, in this Free State, what I had come to do. I set about my business, and, as I told you, bought a little machinery, from a fellow named Schwab, agent for a Düsseldorf firm. But I was a marked man. One day an officer came and asked me to show my patent. I did so. The man complained that it was not properly filled up; my name was spelled with an 'e' instead of an 'i'—Martendale! I laughed at him, and he went away in a huff. Next day another fellow came and said that my patent was worthless. Since it had been granted a new arrangement had been entered into between the Concession and the State, and all the mineral rights in the district reverted to the State. I laughed at that; a patent granted by the Concession and authorized by the State could not be revoked; it had five years to run, and I meant to stick to it. They wanted to bluff me—an American!—out of it.
"But things began to go badly with me. I was practically boycotted, Jack. None of the storekeepers would supply me with anything I wanted. One of them frankly told me that to do so was as much as his life was worth. I did not believe him at first. But I found it was only too true. A storekeeper in Boma I heard of—a British subject, Jack, from the Gold Coast—had a part in showing up the rascality of some legal proceedings that had recently taken place. The officials gave the word. He was boycotted; his trade dwindled; he became bankrupt; one of his sons was driven mad by the persecution he suffered; and his troubles and worries so preyed upon the old man's mind that he took his own life.
"Then I fell ill. It was a near touch, Jack. Only the devotion of a fellow-countryman—a fine fellow from Milwaukee—saved my life. Remember his name, Jack—Theodore Canrehan; if you ever meet him, and can do him a good turn, do it for my sake. When I got on my feet again, I was amazed to find the tune changed. Everybody was as sweet as butter. The officers came and apologized to me; they regretted the unfortunate misunderstandings that had arisen; they would do all in their power to forward my business. I arranged for the dispatch of the machinery I had ordered from Europe, and started to return. I couldn't make out what had made them suddenly so attentive; thought it was because I was an American, and they had some respect for the Stars and Stripes after all. Canrehan told me that since I sailed a strong feeling had been growing in America with regard to the Congo question; and I flattered myself the State authorities weren't anxious to add fuel to the flames by provoking a real serious grievance in which an American was concerned. But it was all a trap, Jack—all a trap. I saw it too late—too late."
Hitherto Mr. Martindale had spoken slowly and calmly, husbanding his strength. But at this point his feeling overcame him.
"Don't talk any more now, Uncle," said Jack, fearing that the exertion would be too much for him. "Tell me the rest another time. Try to sleep. I will watch over you. Thank God I shall be with you in the journey to Boma. You'll pull through even now, and we shall be able to fight together."
Mr. Martindale had already fallen into a doze. Jack did his best to make his bed more comfortable, and watched him through the night, pacing round the tent for hours together to keep himself awake. From time to time his thoughts went back to the fort. What was Barney doing? What would he do when morning came and yet the absent had not returned? What would be the fate of the poor people committed to his charge? At present all was dark to Jack. It seemed that he and all connected with him were now in the fell grip of the Congo State.
As soon as it was light Elbel came into the tent.
"I hope you had good night," he said, with a grin. "You vill have breakfast, den you vill begin your promenade. Tventy-five Askari vill escort you. You vill go to de river vere Mr. Martindale left his canoes; dey are still dere. Ah! he did hide dem, but vat good? You vill go on canoes till you come to de falls; dere you vill for a time voyage overland. By and by you come to Stanleyville; dere you find steamer; de State officers vill have care of you de rest of de vay to Boma. You understan'?"
"I warn you, Mr. Elbel, that I shall hold you responsible for my uncle's safety down the river. You see for yourself he is not fit to travel. I shall take the earliest opportunity of informing the American Government of your actions—your persecution, for it is no less."
"Dat is all right," returned Elbel, grinning again. "De courts at Boma vill give immediate attention. De judges, dey are excellent. Now still vunce before you go, write de order to de vite man in your fort to render himself. It vill profit you."
"Never!" said Jack. "Go and execute your warrant."
"Ver' vell, ver' vell. It matters noding. In a half-hour de Askari vill be here. You be ready."
Jack managed to get his uncle to eat a little food. He seemed somewhat stronger and less feverish than on the preceding evening. At seven o'clock the twenty-five soldiers appeared, accompanied by eight men as carriers. Mr. Martindale recognized these as belonging to the party he had brought up the river; the rest of his men, he supposed, had been impressed by Elbel for service in his camp. It being obvious that the sick man was unable to walk, a litter had been constructed for him. He was placed on this. Four men were told off to carry it, the other four bearing food sufficient to last the whole party until they reached the canoes.
Jack had wondered whether he was to be manacled; but the prestige of the white man, not any consideration for his feelings, had prevented Elbel from going to such extremes. But as he stood behind his uncle's litter, two Askari with loaded rifles placed themselves one on each side of him.
When the party were ready to start, Elbel sauntered up, his hands behind his back, and, approaching Jack, said with a smile:
"Now, Mr. Shalloner, before ve part I have a little vat you call reckoning viz you. You strike me vunce, tvice, viz your feest. Dat is de English vay—de boxe, hein?" Elbel showed his teeth. "On de Congo ve have anoder vay—de chicotte. Vun does not soil vun's hands. So!"
He took from behind his back a hippopotamus-hide whip, and, cutting short so as to avoid the Askari close beside Jack, dealt him two cuts with his utmost strength. Jack clenched his teeth to stifle a cry as the edges of the thong cut through his thin clothes.
"Dere! Now are ve quits!"
As he spoke Jack, blazing with anger and mortification, made a fierce spring at him. But Elbel was ready: he jumped nimbly backwards, while half a dozen Askari rushed between them, and pinioned Jack's arms.
Honour was satisfied—so Elbel appeared to think, for with a grin of malicious triumph he nodded to the Askari in charge: the party might now proceed.
"You see," said Elbel, as they moved away, "if you try to escape you vill be shot. I vish you agreeable promenade."