The party set off. They marched all day, with brief intervals for food and rest. Jack was only allowed to speak to his uncle during these pauses. The sick man lay inert, with closed eyes, protected from the heat by a light covering of grass, which his bearers made and fixed above his litter. Jack watched him anxiously. He seemed no worse when they arrived at the river just before sunset. Mr. Martindale had brought up four canoes; two of these had already been appropriated by Elbel and conveyed up the river; the other two remained. They passed the night on the canoes, and in the small hours, when the natives were asleep, Mr. Martindale insisted on continuing the story broken off the night before.
"Better now, dear boy," he said, when Jack implored him to wait until he was stronger. "I shall never see Boma; Elbel knows that. He knows that in this climate a sick man cannot survive a journey of over a thousand miles. I want you to understand clearly before I go what these officials are doing. They call it the Free State!—free! No one is free but the officials! The natives, poor wretches! are not free. Never, when slavery was an institution, were there slaves in such abject misery as these slaves of the Congo. Why, they made a great to-do about slavery in my country fifty years ago, and some of the pictures in Uncle Tom's Cabin were lurid enough. But the American slave's life was Paradise compared with this hell upon earth. Trade on the Congo was to be free. Is there any such freedom? Look at my case. They give me a patent to work minerals; they let me make my prospecting trip; then when I have located the gold and ordered my machinery they revoke my patent. I make the loaf, they eat it. Oh! it was all planned from the beginning. We have been fooled right through, Jack."
"But what of their courts, Uncle? Surely there is some redress for injustice."
"Their courts! They're all of a piece, Jack. The State grants a concession to a trading company. Half the time the Stateisthe trading company; it takes up the larger portion of the shares. The Congo Free State is nothing but a big commercial speculation, and the courts dare not do anything that conflicts with its interests. Men come here, Belgians, Germans, Italians, good fellows some, honest, well-meaning; but they haven't been here long before they have to swim with the current, or throw up their careers. One poor fellow, a district judge, ventured to protest against an illegal sentence passed by a court-martial; he was broken, and hounded out of the country. In a sense he was lucky, for it is easier for such a man to get into this country than to get out of it—alive! A man who does justice and loves righteousness has no place in the Congo Free State.
"You see now why they let me go. They let me make what arrangements I pleased—engage a large party, buy a large quantity of stores; well knowing that at any moment of my journey they could arrest me and plunder my goods. And they knew of your doings up here, be sure of that. They intended to let me get into the neighbourhood of your fort and use me to decoy you out. They've done it. Oh! it was all planned in Boma. Neither you nor I will ever reach Boma if Elbel and the officials have their way. Elbel's suggestion of delaying so that we could get Barney to surrender the fort was all a part of the trick; it would make no difference to our treatment, and it would be the death-warrant of those poor negroes. Jack, I approve of all that you have done—approve with all my heart. I am proud of you, dear boy. What does it matter that I've lost my money, and my gold mine, and very likely my life too! I am thankful to Almighty God that we came to this country, glad that He has put it into our power to do some little good. I wouldn't undo any of it; I am proud that one of my blood has been called to this good work. Jack, Providence has made us responsible for the poor negroes who have trusted their lives to us. Do you remember I said at Banonga that I wasn't a philanthropist and wasn't set on starting a crusade? I spoke lightly, my boy. I would say now that if God spared my life I would spend all my strength and all my energy in a nobler work than ever mediæval crusader undertook. I shall not live to do it; but I leave it to you. Were this my last breath I would say, help the negroes of the Congo, fight the corrupt Government that enriches itself on their blood; go to the fountain-head and expose the hypocrisy of King Leopold."
"He may not know of it, Uncle. So far away he cannot check and control all the actions of his agents."
"Not know of it! How can he help knowing of it? Are not these things happening every day? And it is his business to know of it. Suppose I had a factory in the United States, and it was proved that while I was coining millions my hands were dying of overwork, or of insanitary buildings, or getting wages insufficient to keep them decently clothed and fed; wouldn't there be an outcry? Wouldn't the law step in, or if the law failed, public opinion? Where does Leopold get his dollars from? Who pays for the estates he is buying, the palace he is building, the fine public works he is presenting to Belgium? It is these poor black people. He is draining the life-blood out of the country he vowed before Almighty God to rule justly and administer wisely for the good of the people; and the cries and groans of these negroes, men like himself, are rising to Heaven, terrible witnesses of his broken vows, his callousness, his selfish apathy. Oh! I grant him good intentions to begin with. Twenty years ago he did not foresee all this; no man is a villain all at once! But it might have been foreseen. He was king of a few hundred miles of country; with a stroke of the pen he became sovereign of a State as big as Europe; and if a man has the passion for getting, unlimited opportunities of doing so will bring him to any villainy unless he has the grace of God in him."
Jack was deeply moved by his uncle's earnestness. At the same time he was concerned to see the exhaustion that followed his passionate speech. He gave him a little wine, imploring him to spare himself.
"Don't trouble, dear boy," said Mr. Martindale with a smile. "The fire is burning out; what does it matter if it burns a little more quickly? But I won't distress you; you will think over my words when I am gone."
In the morning the river journey was begun. It continued for several days, until with their arrival at the falls progress by water was interrupted, and a long portage had to be made.
It was just at this point that they met a party of Askari marching in the other direction. As soon as they came in sight the leader of Jack's escort cried—
"O etswa?"[1]
"O!" replied the leader of the approaching band.
"Where are you going?"
"To the camp of Elobela."
"What have you got in those bundles?"
"Cartridges for Elobela's guns."
"Bolotsi O! He will be glad of them. He has very few left."
"Has he killed many people?"
"No. But Lokolobolo captured nearly all his cartridges."
"Mongo! Who is Lokolobolo?"
"Here he is! An Inglesa who has built a fort and fights Elobela. But we have got him at last, and he goes with an old Inglesa to Boma. Oh! he will fight no more."
"O kend'o?"
"O!"
During the river journey Mr. Martindale had grown steadily weaker. He fought hard against his illness; he had a new motive for desiring life; and Jack, observing his occasional rallies, hoped still that he would pull through. But he was so weak when lifted from the canoe that he fainted, and Jack feared that he would not survive the day. He rallied again, and once more Jack had a gleam of hope.
The horrors of that overland march will haunt Jack's memory till he dies. For some time the Askari had been ill-using the carriers. The greater part of the stores which Mr. Martindale had taken up the river had been appropriated by Elbel, and the food left in the canoes was not sufficient for full meals for the whole party. It was the carriers who went short. They had to bear the burdens, to make frequent journeys to and fro up the steep river banks, while the Askari looked on and had the best of the food. When the portage was begun, one of the canoes was added to their load. The other was left hidden in the bush to be fetched later. Weak from lack of proper nourishment, they could go but slowly, and Jack's blood boiled as he saw them quiver, heard them shriek, under the merciless chicotte. Before the first day was ended, two of the men fell, worn out with hunger and fatigue. Jack heard shots behind him, and saw that the wretched men had been put out of their misery. On the second day another man succumbed; what little life was left in him was beaten out with the clubbed rifles of the Askari. Three men ran away during the night, preferring the perils of the forest to the certain fate that awaited them at the hands of their fellow-men. Only two carriers were now left, and since these were useless they were shot in cold blood. Jack's heart was like a stone within him. These atrocities recalled the worst horrors of the old Arab slave-raiding days; and he was unable to lift a hand to oppose them. If he had been the only white man with the party he felt that he would have risked anything in an effort to save the poor wretches; but while his uncle still lived he could do nothing that might involve his own death.
The bearers being all gone, the Askari had to take turns themselves in carrying the canoe, the remainder of their provisions, and Mr. Martindale's litter. This necessity did not improve their temper or their manners, and the litter-bearers went so carelessly over the rough ground that Jack was constrained to protest. He implored, he threatened, feeling that the only chance for his uncle was to make more frequent halts; the fatigue of constant travelling would certainly kill him. But the Askari roughly replied that they had orders to continue their journey without delay, and the march was resumed. After his protest Jack was forced to walk at a distance from the litter, and even when the caravan halted for food he was not allowed to attend his uncle. Sick at heart he plodded on, torn by his anxieties, yet still nourishing a hope that when they arrived at a station where a doctor might be found, and whence the journey would be continued by steamer, all might yet be well.
But one evening, when the halt was made, he heard his uncle faintly calling. The sound of his voice struck a chill through him. In desperation, snatching a rifle from the guard next him, he threatened to shoot any one who tried to keep him from the dying man.
"It's all up with me, old boy," said Mr. Martindale feebly, when Jack knelt by his litter. "Elbel is having his way. I shan't see another morning."
Jack gripped his hands; they were chill and clammy. A lump came into his throat; he could not speak the yearning affection that filled his heart.
"Bend down, Jack; I'm afraid I cannot make you hear. Remember—remember what I have said; it is my bequest to you—the cause of the Congo natives. Do what you can for them. Fight! It is called the Free State; fight to make it free. I cannot see the future; all is dark; I dread what may await you in Boma. But buck up, dear fellow. Barney—remember him. Go to the British consul; tell him all. Your people have generous sympathies; wake them up; wake them up! If they are roused, all this wrong will come to an end."
"I will do all I can, Uncle," murmured Jack.
"Don't mourn overlong for me. I've had a good time. And this year the best of all. I wouldn't lose it, Jack. Tell my friends I'm not sorry; I'm glad, glad to have seen with my own eyes something that's worth doing. And I have faith in the future—in my fellow-men, in God. What is it about wicked doers? 'They encourage themselves in mischief, and commune how they may lay snares; they imagine wickedness and practise it. But God shall suddenly shoot at them with a swift arrow; yea, their own tongues shall make them fall.' How does it go on? I cannot remember. 'The righteous shall rejoice——.' Jack, are you there?"
"Yes, Uncle, I am here," replied Jack, tightening his clasp.
"Is it the fifteenth Psalm? 'He that walketh uprightly——' I cannot remember, Jack.—Is that boy Samba better? Poor little chap! No father and mother!—Barnard said there was gold; why can't he find it?—No, that's not a nugget, that's—— Only a dog, eh? I'm kind o' set on dogs...."
And so he rambled on, muttering incoherently in his delirium; and Jack did not stir, but remained cramped while the slow hours crawled on, and nocturnal insects hummed, and frogs croaked, and the leaves faintly rustled above him.
Then, as the dawn was creeping up the sky, Mr. Martindale opened his eyes. They rested on Jack's pale drawn face, and the dying man smiled.
"Buck up!" he whispered. "Remember! 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow....'"
And so he died.
[1] Are you awake? (the morning greeting)
With his own hands Jack dug a grave near the brink of the river, and there he laid his uncle to rest. The Askari looked on stolidly as he gathered stones from below the bank and heaped them to form a low rude cairn. Then he went back with them to their camping-place. He could not touch the food they offered him, and when they told him the time was come to march he got up silently and moved away mechanically with the rest.
He trudged on among his captors, a prey to utter dejection, conscious of nothing but his irreparable loss. He saw nothing, heard nothing, of what was going on around him, walking automatically in a kind of stupor. His uncle was dead!—for the moment the world had for him no other fact. By degrees, as his first dazed feeling passed away, he recalled little incidents in his past life that till then had lain dormant in his memory. He remembered the first time he had consciously seen his uncle, when he was a child of four, and he was dragged in all grubby from the garden, face and hands stained with strawberry juice, to see a big man with a red face, who laughed at him, and showed him a rough yellow lump that he wore on his watch-chain. He remembered the letter when his father died; and that other letter when his mother died; and the first visit to school, when, shown into the headmaster's study, the headmaster being absent, Mr. Martindale had made friends of the dog, and was found by the great man in the act of balancing a pen on the animal's nose. He remembered too the delightful holidays, climbing in Switzerland, roaming in Normandy, gondoliering in Venice. Odd things came to his recollection, and there was not one of them but recalled some trait of character, reminded him of some past happiness.
Then as he walked his grief took on a new complexion—a longing for vengeance on the miscreant whom he regarded as directly responsible for his uncle's death—morally as culpable as if he had with his own hands committed the murder. Was this villain to remain unpunished? The thought of Elbel induced a new change of feeling. What of the natives who for so many months had looked to him for guidance and leadership? What was Barney doing? Had Samba escaped the clutches of his enemy and got back to the fort? Was the fort, indeed, still there? He remembered his promise to his uncle. At the most solemn moment of his life, under the very shadow of death, he had vowed to do all in his power to help the negroes of the Congo—and here he was, himself a prisoner among soldiers of this iniquitous government, on his way to an unknown fate.
Thus recalled to actuality, he roused himself and began to think. He had no longer his uncle to consider; that good man was beyond reach of chicanery and spite. Why should he go to Boma? Nothing good awaited him there. He would be thrown into prison on arrival—supposing he ever arrived; he would be tried, sentenced no doubt: at Boma in such cases there were none of the law's delays; he might never be heard of again. What chance was there of fulfilling his uncle's wishes there? Was not his place at the fort, at Ilombekabasi, with Barney and Imbono and Mboyo, the people for and with whom he had already toiled and fought? There at the fort was tangible good to be done; he felt an overpowering impulse to return to his friends. Elbel had been worsted; if the resistance could be still further prolonged surely the Belgian would withdraw, though it were only to gather strength for a crushing blow; and the interval might be seized to migrate with the whole community into the forest or across the frontier.
But there was the rub. Between him and the fort there was a band of well-armed Askari and several days' journey by river and forest. Even if he escaped the former, what chance was there of success? A white man was very helpless in these African wilds—easily seen and followed, not used to fend for himself in obtaining the necessaries of life. Even Samba, forest-bred, had barely survived the perils of a solitary journey: how could a white man expect to fare so well?
Yet, so strong was Jack's longing, he resolved that, be the difficulties and dangers what they might, he would seize the barest chance of escape that offered itself. Anything would be better than to be carried on to Boma, with the terrible uncertainty, not merely regarding his own ultimate fate at the hands of an unscrupulous officialdom and a tainted judicature, but still more as to the fate of his friends at Ilombekabasi.
From that moment his whole mental attitude changed. He did not forget his grief; that pitiful scene by the river's brink could never be effaced from his mind and heart; but he resolutely set his wits to work to find an avenue of escape, and the mere effort brought relief to his sorrow. No longer was he inattentive to his surroundings. Without allowing his guards to suspect him, he was keenly on the alert, watching everything.
It was not until the midday meal that accident befriended him. The Askari came to a village which had clearly been for some time deserted—another monument, Jack supposed, to King Leopold's rule. He took refuge from the burning heat, which did not appear to incommode the negroes, in one of the empty and half-ruined huts. There he ate his meal of rancidkwanga—all that his guards would allow him. While he squatted on the floor eating, his eye was attracted by a bright light, the reflection of the sun on some polished surface in the wall of the hut. Out of sheer curiosity he stepped across, and drew from the interlaced wattles the head of a small axe. Its edge was very sharp, as Jack found to his cost when he drew his finger across it; and although in parts rusty, it appeared to be of very fine steel, too fine to be of native workmanship. Wondering who had been its owner, and how it came to be stuck, separate from its shaft, into the wall of a rough native hut, he slipped it into his pocket; it might prove a weapon of value to an otherwise unarmed man.
There was nothing to cause his guards to suspect him when the march was once more resumed. In an hour or two they came to a place below the series of rapids where it was safe to launch the canoe. There the party divided. The carriers being all gone, the canoe left behind could only be fetched by some of the Askari; and after some squabbling, ten of them went back, the rest promising to wait for them at a convenient spot down the river. As they paddled away, Jack gathered from the talk of his escort, in a dialect which had some slight resemblance to that of the men of Banonga, that they expected to arrive at this place, an old camping-ground of theirs by the river, before nightfall. They had placed him in the bow of the canoe, a light one suitable for portage, with no platform, and therefore nothing between him and the water but the thin side.
Keenly he watched the banks, hoping to be able at a favourable moment to turn his observations to account. But except for a few hippos half hidden in the long grass or reeds at the river-side, and here and there a crocodile basking on a rock or sandbank, its scaly back scarcely distinguishable from the soil, the river was deserted. Forest lined the banks on both sides, its continuity only occasionally broken by clearings showing signs of burnt villages. The trees were beginning to throw long shadows over the water; sunset must be fast approaching; still no means of escape had suggested itself. Yet escape, if effected at all, must be effected soon, for he did not know when, with his transference to a steamer, his immediate fate would be sealed.
Should he risk all, spring overboard, and swim for the bank? He was tempted to do so, though he could not repress a shudder as he thought of the crocodiles now beginning to wake from their afternoon nap. But he knew that as soon as he came to the surface he would be overhauled in two or three strokes of the paddles, even if the paddlers did not think his attempt to escape sufficient justification for a little Albini practice. In any case his death or capture could be a matter of only a few minutes.
But as time passed, Jack resolved that he would chance the crocodiles if he could elude his guards. He would run any risk rather than go to Boma and submit himself to the tender mercies of the Congo State officials. A crocodile, after all, might prove a more merciful enemy!
They came to a part of the river where the channel narrowed, and though the fall was not enough to deserve the name of a rapid, the increased velocity of the current and the presence of large rocks necessitated some caution on the part of the paddlers. Jack could not help hoping that the canoe would come to grief. In the confusion there might be a bare chance of escape, though, being no more than a fair swimmer, he was not blind to the added risk he would run owing to the strength of the current and the danger of being dashed against the rocks.
But the Askari, experienced voyageurs, successfully navigated this stretch of the river, and as the canoe shot safely into smoother water Jack's hopes again fell. Then a thought occurred to him: Why wait upon chance? Why not make his own opportunity? He felt in his pocket; the axe-head was still there; its edge was sharp. If the canoe did not meet with disaster from without, why not from within? He was sitting on one of the thwarts amidships; the paddlers were standing on the thwarts forward and astern of him. All the Askari were paddling except three, and these were squatting, two at the one end of the canoe, one at the other, with their rifles between their knees. In his position Jack was almost completely screened from them. The paddlers had their rifles slung over their shoulders; the baggage was equally distributed over the whole length of the canoe.
Though built of the frailest material, the canoe was of considerable length. This was the one drawback to the plan which had suggested itself to Jack—to drive a hole in the craft at any moment when the attention of the crew seemed sufficiently engaged to give him a chance of doing so unobserved, for the size of the canoe rendered it doubtful whether any hole he might make would be large enough to sink the vessel before it could be paddled ashore. This could only be proved by making the attempt.
Time passed on; no opportunity occurred. The passage here was easy, and the paddlers did their work almost automatically. It needed no attention. Jack was almost giving up the idea when a chance suddenly came. He heard the leader of the Askari call out: "There is the gorge just ahead: soon we shall be at our camping ground. Be steady!"
The canoe went faster and faster, and in a few minutes entered a gorge strewn with jagged rocks threatening destruction at every yard. The men stopped singing—they sang at their paddles from morning till night—and shouted with excitement when the vessel escaped as by a miracle being dashed to pieces on one or other of the rocks in mid-stream. Choosing the moment when the shouting was loudest and the danger probably greatest, Jack stooped down from his thwart and, drawing the axe-head from his pocket, thrust it with all his strength into the side of the canoe near the bottom, where there was already an inch of bilge water. Working the steel to and fro, he enlarged the hole as much as he could, and then withdrew his clumsy implement; the water rushed in with a gurgling noise which must, he feared, attract the attention of the paddler just above him. But the man gave no sign; he was too intent upon his task.
A few seconds later Jack seized another moment of excitement to repeat his work on the other side of the canoe. His heart jumped to his mouth as he heard one of the men shout a word of warning; but he maintained his stooping position, thinking there was less chance of detection than if he suddenly moved. In consequence of the water rising in the bottom the second hole was made somewhat higher than the first; and as Jack watched the level of the water gradually creeping up, he felt that the gaps were not large enough to prevent the paddlers from beaching the canoe if they ran into smooth water during the next few minutes. The bark seemed to close up as soon as the axe-head was withdrawn, leaving only as a narrow slit what had been a gaping rent. A glance ahead showed smooth water within a few yards. There might be just time to make two more rapid cuts. He plunged his hand into the water, now some inches deep, and drove the steel with all his force twice into the bottom beneath his feet. As soon as the canoe left the race, the heavy going due to the water that had been shipped would at once be detected, even if none of the paddlers, indeed, should happen to glance down and see the water washing the packages. True, they might suppose that it had come over the sides of the canoe during their recent rough passage; but the mistake must soon be discovered.
Jack saw that there was little chance of the canoe sinking in midstream. What could he do? Was this, apparently his only opportunity, to be lost? He had only a few seconds to decide. He would wait until the leaks were discovered, and the canoe was headed towards the shore. Then if he dived into the river his guards would be torn between two impulses—the one to pursue him, the other to beach the canoe before she sank with them and their stores. To them the situation would be complex; they would waste time in their confusion; and with a sinking canoe beneath them they would scarcely be able to use their rifles.
Things happened almost exactly as Jack expected. When the canoe left the troubled reaches one of the Askari suddenly caught sight of the water slowly rising, and washing from side to side with every stroke of the paddles. "A leak!" he shouted, inferring that a hole had been knocked in the bottom by a rock. The leader at once cried to the men to run for the right bank. Jack's time came as the canoe was swinging round. Rising suddenly from his seat, with a vigorous shove he sent the paddler behind him rolling back upon the next man; he in his turn fell upon the next; until four of the paddlers in the after part of the canoe were floundering in the water, and the frail craft rocked almost gunwale under. The other paddlers were so much occupied in adjusting themselves to the difficulty and preventing the canoe from being swamped that they were hardly aware of what their prisoner was doing until it was too late to prevent him. While the vessel was tilted over, Jack placed one foot on the side farthest from the bank towards which they were paddling, and dived into the river.
The leader of the Askari immediately shouted to the men in the water to pursue him, pointing out the direction in which he had disappeared beneath the surface. He was making for the left bank. Glancing back when he came up, Jack saw that two men were swimming after him, and realized that he was no match for them. He was only a fair swimmer; his pursuers, drawn from one of the riverine villages of the Lower Congo, were as dexterous in the water as they were in the canoe. When Jack became aware that he was being rapidly overhauled, he gripped more tightly the axe-head which he had never let go, resolving to fight to the last rather than suffer recapture. The negroes had divested themselves of their rifles, or had lost these when thrown so suddenly into the river; and even such a clumsy weapon as an axe-head might prove very formidable to unarmed men.
In the excitement, Jack had forgotten all about the constant peril of the Congo—the crocodiles. Straining every nerve, he was wondering whether he should stop swimming before he ran the risk of being completely exhausted, since there seemed little chance of his gaining the opposite bank before his pursuers, when he was startled by a despairing scream behind. The horrible meaning of it flashed upon him; he glanced back; only one swimmer was to be seen, and he was no longer coming towards him; he had turned and with frantic haste was making for the nearest point of the bank. The second man had disappeared; the crocodile had proved a better swimmer than any. Shuddering in every limb, Jack for a moment felt his strength leaving him. As in a nightmare he seemed to see the horrid jaws of crocodiles all round him waiting to tear him limb from limb. But he recovered in a moment; and, still gripping the axe-head, he struck out desperately for the far bank, which was now, indeed, scarcely more distant than the other. He touched the sandy bottom, struggled panting up the bank, and, completely exhausted by the physical and mental strain of this day's events, crawled rather than walked to a spot where he felt himself secure at least from the dreaded reptile. For several minutes he lay with his head upon his arms, so much spent as to be almost careless of what might become of him. But, rousing himself at length, he rose and scanned the river for signs of his late escort. What was his alarm to see them hastening towards him from the opposite bank; three minutes' hard paddling would bring them within reach of him. The sight of them woke Jack fully to his danger; he turned his back on the river and plunged into the thick bushes that came almost to the water's edge, and extended into, the forest behind. With what marvellous quickness, he thought, had the Askari brought their waterlogged vessel to the bank, emptied her of water, and temporarily stopped the leaks! No doubt they had been spurred to their utmost effort by the knowledge of what awaited them if they returned to their commander with the report that the prisoner had escaped them by any means but death.
It was now late in the afternoon. Within three or four minutes the pursuers would have beached the canoe and dashed in pursuit. Jack knew that he must make the most of his few minutes' start. If he could evade them for an hour he would be concealed by the darkness. Already, indeed, it was dim and dusky in the forest shades he had now entered. There was no path; he could but plunge on where the undergrowth seemed thinnest, his general direction being as nearly as he could judge at an obtuse angle with the stream. The Askari would expect him either to follow the river, or to strike directly inland; at least he hoped that the diagonal between these two courses would not occur to them. While daylight lasted his trail would betray him, of course; but even if the men were trained forest trackers the light would in a few minutes be too bad for them to pick up his trail.
In a few minutes he heard muffled shouts behind him. The pursuers had landed. Then all was silent, save for the forest sounds now familiar to him. He moved as cautiously as the necessity for haste permitted, aware that the breaking of a twig, a stumble, any unusual sound, might bring his quick-eared enemy upon his track. But with all his care he could not avoid accidents. Here a branch of cactus would rip a great rent in his thin linen coat, with a sound that set the teeth on edge. There a low-growing creeper would trip him up, so that he fell with a crash headlong, and rose with his face bleeding from a dozen deep scratches. But he kept the axe-head always in his grasp; that was his only defence.
The fall of night found him still pressing resolutely forward; but when he could no longer see to thread his way in the close tangle of vegetation he halted, and became aware that he was dripping wet, and that he had to spend the night, soaked as he was, without shelter in the primeval forest. It would not have been a pleasant prospect even to a native inured to forest travel; the negroes indeed are careful not to be benighted far from their villages. In other circumstances, as black darkness wrapt him round, Jack might have felt not a few tremors; from Samba he had learnt something of the perils of night in densely-wooded places. But he had lately passed through experiences so trying that the visionary terrors of these gloomy depths had no power to trouble him. He sought, however, a suitable tree and climbed out of the reach of prowling beasts, hoping that he would also escape the attentions of leopards and pythons, which made no account of the lower branches.
He had never spent a more uncomfortable night. Insects stung him; caterpillars crawled over him; woodlice worried him. Dozing in spite of these annoyances, he would wake with a start and the nightmare feeling that he was falling, falling helplessly through space. His wet clothes stuck clammily to his skin; he shivered as with ague, his teeth chattered, his head was racked with pain. Stiff and sore from his narrow perch and his cramped position he clung on through the night; and when, after the long darkness, the pale dawn at last stole through the foliage, and he dropped to the ground, he moved like an old man, with aching limbs, unrefreshed, feeling the want of food, yet utterly without appetite.
But he must go on. His enemies had not discovered him; no beast had attacked him; these were positive gains. He could make no plans; all that he could do was to follow a course calculated by the sun to take him in the direction of the river, going up stream. He walked stiffly, but steadily, during the morning, picking here and there handfuls of phrynia berries—the only berries of the forest which he knew to be edible.
About midday he resolved to risk a more direct course to the river, in the hope that his pursuers, finding no trace of him, had given up the hunt. But it was easier to decide than to carry out. For all he knew he might have been wandering in a circle, and the windings of the river might make every step he took one in the wrong direction. After some hesitation he turned somewhat to the left and trudged on, so intent upon his immediate surroundings that his range of vision was restricted to a few yards.
He noticed that the ground, as he walked, was becoming a little less thickly covered with undergrowth; but it was with a shock of alarm that, at a sudden lifting of the eyes, he saw, standing in front of him, a young straight dusky figure armed with a long rifle. Springing instinctively behind the nearest tree, he grasped the axe-head ready to do battle.
But what was this? A voice spoke to him, a voice that he knew, giving him pleasant salutation, calling him by name.
"Lokolobolo losako[1]!"
He came from behind the tree and went forward, stretching forth his hands.
"Samba!" he cried joyously.
[1] Salutation addressed to a superior.
Samba at once led the way in a different direction from that lately followed by Jack, saying that he would explain his presence as they went along.
Jack had hardly reached the tent to which he had been decoyed by Elbel's messenger before Samba knew that his uneasy feeling was justified; his master had fallen into a trap. Stealing up close behind Lofembi he had plunged his knife into the man's back, and dashed into the forest. He had no difficulty in escaping from the spot; but the report of the rifle fired after him had reached Elbel's camp below the fort, and Samba found that he had to make a very wide detour to avoid the enemy's scouts. But he managed at last to get into the fort, and implored Barney to send out a party to rescue his captain. Barney was much distressed by the news, but resolutely refused to throw away lives and risk the safety of the fort in a forlorn hope of that kind. All that he would do was to allow Samba, with three other men, Makoko, Lianza, and Lingombela, to follow up Mr. Martindale and Jack, and rescue them if any chance occurred; if not, to see what became of them.
But the four had great difficulty in getting out of the fort undetected; the enemy's vigilance appeared to be doubled, and a full day elapsed before they were able to set off in the track of the prisoners. Failing to overtake the party in the forest before they embarked on the canoes, they had had to cover on foot the long distance for which the Askari were able to use the river, though they shortened the journey to some extent by cutting straight across country when the river wound.
At last, when Samba had all but given up hope, they saw a party of ten Askari coming towards them from down the river. Samba did not suspect at first that these men were connected with those he sought. But keeping well out of sight he tracked them to a spot where a canoe was concealed, and then he guessed at once that the men had been sent back to fetch a canoe left behind for want of sufficient carriers. It would be easy to keep ahead of this party, burdened as they were with the vessel; so Samba and his three companions pushed on, and soon came upon tracks of Mr. Martindale and Jack. They had noticed the newly-made grave with its stone cairn: it had puzzled them, and they did not know it was a grave until Samba pointed out that the litter had ceased to be used: there were no longer the marks of four men walking always at the same distance apart; they then concluded that the elder Inglesa had died.
They came by and by to the place where the party had re-embarked. Samba's only hope of overtaking them now was that they would certainly wait at some part of their journey until they were caught up by the other canoe; and it seemed to him that his expectation was borne out when, scouting ahead of the three, he sighted in the dusk a long canoe lying under the opposite bank in charge of three Askari. He ran back to his companions and told them to hide in the bush; then he returned to the spot, and from a safe concealment prepared to wait and watch. Night fell: the river was too broad for him to see across it; but presently he heard the sound of men approaching the canoe, and soon afterwards voices. Then all was silent. He kept up his watch for some time, half expecting to hear the sound of paddles; but concluding from the continued silence that the men would not move till the morning, he went to sleep in a tree.
Waking before dawn, he resumed his watch. In the early morning he saw eleven men land and make off in two parties into the forest, leaving three men on guard. Instantly he jumped to the conclusion that Lokolobolo had escaped; and a daring scheme suggested itself to him. Returning to his friends, he told them what he had seen, and what he proposed. The four immediately set about building a light raft of bamboos and cane "tie," and when it was finished they carried it some distance along the bank launched it out of sight of the men in charge of the canoe' and punted themselves across to the other side. An hour later only one man remained in the enemy's canoe, and he was a prisoner.
Jack forbore to inquire what had become of the others; Samba merely said that their ammunition had been spoilt by the water. Samba and his companions were Congo natives; free from the restraining influence of the white man, it would be scarcely surprising if they took the opportunity of paying off some of the wrongs they had suffered at the hands of the Askari.
From the prisoner Samba learnt the whole history of the party since the time it left Elbel in the forest. Tying the man up, Samba and his companions at once set to work to find the trail of the fugitive, and of the men who had gone in pursuit. In the morning light it was easy to a practised scout like Samba to find what he sought. He soon discovered that the two parties of Askari had failed to track their quarry, and were going haphazard through the forest. He himself then started to follow Jack up, and his three companions went forth to the canoe to await the return of the enemy. It was unlikely that the two bands would appear at the same time. If they returned separately, the three scouts in ambush would only have to deal with six men or five men, as the case might be. They were still waiting.
What would they do, asked Jack, when the enemy came back?
"Fire upon them from behind the trees," replied Samba. "Three men will certainly be killed; are not the scouts Makoko, Lianza, and Lingombela, three of the best marksmen in Ilombekabasi? If the two or the three men left do not run away, they will fight them. If they run away, they will follow them up and fire at them from behind trees."
Even as Samba spoke there came through the trees a sound as of distant firing. Samba quickened his steps; for an hour or more his master and he plunged through the forest, the boy halting every now and then to listen intently. At length whispering "Nkakayoko!"[1] he laid his hand on Jack's sleeve and gave a low call like the rough scratching sound of a forest beetle. It was answered from the right hand. Striking off sharply in that direction he led the way through a thin copse, and in a few moments the two stood at the brink of the river beside the canoe. Samba looked keenly around, whispered "Mpiko!"[2] and pointed to a low bushy tree close at hand. For a second or two Jack could see nothing but green: but then through the dense foliage he caught the glint of a rifle barrel, and behind it—yes, a black face. The man came out with a low chuckle of amusement. It was Makoko. "Bolotsi o!" he said. His forest craft had been too much for Lokolobolo.
Suddenly Samba held up his hand in warning. They listened; it must have been the flight of a forest bird.
"What was the firing?" asked Samba in a low voice.
"The killing of five men," replied Makoko.
Jack caught the last words, "Bant'atanu!" and started.
"Where are they?" he asked.
"Gone to feed the crocodiles. Three first, then two."
Again Samba raised his hand. All listened intently. Jack heard nothing; but Samba whispered, "They come!" and plucked him by the sleeve. All three hid among the trees. Two men came out from the other side—they were Lianza and Lingombela.
"They are coming—six men," said Lianza in answer to Samba's question. "Quickly! they heard the shots."
"We must shoot again from behind the trees," said Samba.
But Jack could not bear the idea of shooting down the unsuspecting wretches in cold blood.
"Perhaps we can make them surrender," he whispered.
"Lako! lako!" said the negroes indignantly.
"Yes; we will try."
Makoko and the other two men grumbled, but Samba silenced them.
"It is Lokolobolo's order," he said.
He offered Jack his Mauser, but Jack refused it with a smile, taking one of the Albinis which had been removed from the canoe. With the four he concealed himself behind the bushes. He had already noticed that all traces of the recent incidents had been carefully obliterated.
A few minutes later six Askari came from the thick wall of bush. They started and looked at one another when they saw the canoe unguarded. Then they called their comrades. Receiving no answer, they began to discuss the strange disappearance of the three men who had been left in charge. With a sign to Samba to follow him, Jack came out from behind his bush. The men ceased their chatter; their jaws dropped, they stared at their late captive in blank amazement. He spoke to them quietly, Samba translating.
"I was hiding: I come to save you from being killed. Your eight comrades are already dead. If one of you lifts his hand, he is a dead man. Behind the bushes my men wait ready to shoot you. Listen! They will answer when I call. You will see how hopeless it is to resist. Makoko!"
"Em'one!"
"Lingombela!"
"Em'one!"
"Lianza!"
"Em'one!"
"Lay down your rifles," continued Jack, "and beg for mercy."
There was but a moment's hesitation, then one of the men sullenly obeyed, and the rest, one after another, followed his example. At Jack's call the three scouts came from their hiding-place. Two of them covered the Askari with their rifles, while the third collected the surrendered Albinis and placed them in the canoe.
How Jack's position had altered! An hour or two ago he was a fugitive, practically unarmed, with nearly a score of Askari hunting him down. Now he was in command of four scouts fully armed, and in possession of a canoe and half a dozen prisoners, who had proved themselves on the journey down to be expert paddlers. But, as Samba reminded him, he had still to deal with the ten Askari who had been sent back to fetch the second canoe. They must be on their way down stream: perhaps they were near at hand. Something must be done with them. To let them pass, or to leave them behind, would be equally unwise; they would almost certainly follow up Jack and his party, perhaps find a means of sending word to Elbel in time to cut them off from the fort. The safety of himself and his men demanded that this second band should be disposed of.
To deal with them as he had dealt with the six would not be easy. They would come by water, not by land. He did not wish to kill them. What other course was open to him?
He remembered that the Askari had spoken of an old camping-place a little below the spot on which they stood. This had doubtless been fixed as the rendezvous of the whole party. The prisoners would know its exact locality. With a little luck, he thought, all the ten might be captured unharmed. He got Samba to question the sullen men. Yes, they knew the camping-ground.
"Then they must paddle us to it," said Jack.
Making sure that the holes he had cut in the canoe had been sufficiently caulked to allow of a short passage without danger, Jack embarked with all the men, and in a quarter of an hour reached the camping-ground. It was about a hundred yards back from the opposite bank, pretty well hidden from the river. A few rough grass shelters, somewhat tumbledown, and traces of former encampments, showed that it was a frequent place of call for parties going up or down. When all had landed, Jack sent Makoko and Lianza along the bank up the river to look for the oncoming of the Askari, who, though they must necessarily have moved slowly while carrying the canoe, would no doubt make rapid progress when once more afloat. The six Askari looked a little hopeful when they saw the two scouts leave; but Samba damped their spirits at once when he told them that at the slightest sign of revolt they would be shot without mercy. To make things sure, and prevent the scheme he had in mind from being foiled, Jack ordered the men to be bound hand and foot, which was very quickly done by Samba and Lingombela with the stripped tendrils of climbing plants.
It was dark before the scouts returned. They reported that the Askari had camped for the night some distance up stream, and would certainly arrive early next morning. Jack arranged that when the canoe should come in sight, only himself and two of his prisoners would be visible in the centre of the camp. The Askari would suppose that the rest of the party were out foraging—taking, as the custom is with the troops of the Free State and the Concessions, what they pleased from the black subjects of King Leopold, and paying nothing, except perhaps blows, in return. The newcomers, not expecting any change in the relations of their comrade with the white prisoner, would march unconcernedly into camp. Jack was pretty confident that if things came to this point, he would succeed in making the men surrender without fighting.
In the early morning the Askaris' paddling song was heard as they came down the river. The singing ceased; there was a shout; and Jack ordered the captured Askari by his side to call an answering greeting. Then the party came in sight, eight men in a straggling line approaching up the path. The remaining two had evidently been left behind to tie up the canoe.
The first man addressed a chaffing remark to the Askari with Jack, and then asked where the rest of the party were. The men pointed vaguely to the forest; their comrades were, in fact, there, gagged and securely bound to the trees. Half a dozen rifles were stacked in the middle of the camping ground, the newcomers placed theirs close by, and then began to chatter about trifles in the African's way.
Meanwhile Jack was keeping a keen eye on the men. The two captured Askari were obviously ill at ease. There were the rifles within a few yards of them, yet they dared not move towards them, for they knew that in the shelter of the trees behind stood Samba with the three scouts ready to shoot them down. They replied briefly to their comrades' questions; and then, in obedience to instructions given by Jack previously, suggested that the newcomers should go to a cane-brake a few yards down stream, and bring back a supply of canes for building shelters like those already erected; there were not sufficient for the whole party. The men moved off. No sooner had they disappeared than Samba and the three men came from behind the trees, removed all the rifles into the huts, and all except Samba stationed themselves in hiding on the side of the encampment opposite to that through which the Askari had just gone. Samba remained with Jack.
In a quarter of an hour the men returned. To their amazement the white prisoner went forward to meet them. Through Samba he spoke to them.
"It will not be necessary for you to build the huts."
"Why? What does the white man mean by talking to us? And who are you?"
Samba did not reply to their questions: he waited for the next words from Jack.
"There are enough empty huts here!"
"How can that be? There are ten of us, and fifteen before. The huts will not hold half of us; and who are you?"
"The fifteen are dead, or taken prisoners."
The men gaped, unable to appreciate the full import of the news. They dropped their loads of cane and looked at the boy in astonishment.
"What do you mean? What has happened? Who are you?"
"Tell them, Samba."
"I am Samba, the servant of Lokolobolo. I came down the river with other servants of Lokolobolo. We fell upon your comrades and scattered them like the leaves of the forest. We have the rifles—your rifles."
The men gave a startled glance to where the stacks of arms had been. Jack thought they paled beneath their dusky skin.
"See!" continued Samba, "if Lokolobolo lifts his hand you will all be shot. His men are there, behind the trees. You have no rifles. Of what good are knives against guns? You will be even as the men who are short with their rubber. You will be shot down before you can strike a blow. No; do not move," he said quickly, as the men appeared inclined to make a dash for the forest. "You cannot run so fast as the bullets. You know that, you men who shoot boys and women as they flee from you. Throw down your knives at Lokolobolo's feet, if you wish to live!"
The man who had acted as spokesman for his comrades obeyed without a word. The rest were but little behind him. At a sign from Jack, Makoko and the others came from their place of hiding, and tied the feet of the prisoners, in such a way that while they could walk with short steps, they were unable to run. In a few moments the two men left at the canoe were similarly disposed of.
And now Jack was in command of four armed scouts and sixteen unarmed prisoners. He at once decided to make use of the Askari as paddlers. One canoe would be sufficient; he would sink the vessel in which he had dug the holes. With sixteen men expert in the use of the paddle, he would make a rapid journey up stream.
He was about to give the order to start when it suddenly occurred to him that it would be well to assure himself first that the coast was clear. So far he had seen no natives either on river or on land since he left Elbel, save those of his own party and the band coming up with ammunition. The riverine villages had all been deserted, and the tributary down which he had travelled was at all times little frequented. But it seemed very unlikely that many more days should pass without his seeing a stranger, and when he began to think on these lines, he wondered whether perhaps Elbel himself might not have occasion for sending messengers down stream, and whether the party they had met conveying stores to Elbel's force might not be returning. Having escaped by such wonderful good fortune, it would be sheer folly to throw away his chances of getting back to Ilombekabasi by any want of caution. Accordingly he sent Makoko up the river and Samba down the river to do a little preliminary scouting.
About midday Samba came running back in a state of great excitement. He had run so fast that his legs were trembling, and sweat poured from his body. Not an hour's paddling distant, he had seen a smoke-boat and a large number of canoes coming up the river. He had never seen so many boats before, and they were crowded with men. And on the smoke-boat there were white men.
"At last!" ejaculated Jack. This, he supposed, was the Captain Van Vorst, of whom Elbel had spoken, coming up with regular troops of the State. Whoever was in command, the flotilla could portend no good to Jack or Ilombekabasi, and he saw at once that he must give up the idea of using the Askaris' canoe. He could certainly travel faster than the expedition, which must go at the pace of its slowest cargo boats; but scouting or foraging parties of the enemy might push on ahead and sight him on one of the long stretches of the river; and his men could be descried from a long distance as they made the portage. Pursuit and capture would then be almost certain.
His mind was instantly made up. His journey to the fort must be a land march, and it must be begun in all haste. He quickly gave his orders. The canoes were unloaded, and the stores and ammunition given to the Askari to carry. The vessels were then scuttled and sunk, and the whole party plunged into the forest, after a time taking a course almost the same as that which Samba had followed on his solitary journey. But before they had gone far, Jack, not disposed to leave the neighbourhood without getting more exact particulars of the advancing host, went back with Samba, leaving the rest of the party to continue their march.
Samba rapidly wormed his way through the forest back to the river bank. They reached a position, whence, unseen themselves, they could command a long reach of the river. There they waited.
Soon they heard the regular beat of the steamer's paddles; then the songs of the canoe-boys. By and by a steam launch came into view round a bend of the river. It was crowded. Far away as it was as yet, Jack could easily distinguish the white-clad figures of three Europeans on deck, amid a crowd of negroes in the tunic, pantaloons, and fez of the State troops. Clearly it was as he had feared. The Concession had followed the usual course, when the rapacity of its officials had provoked a revolt too formidable to be coped with by its own forces, and had called in the aid of the regular army. As canoe after canoe appeared in the wake of the steamer, Jack could not help a feeling of dismay at the size of the force arrayed against him. His spirits sank lower and lower as he watched. By the time the steamer came abreast of his hiding-place, the flotilla filled the whole of the stretch of river open to his view. In the still air, amid the songs and chatter of the natives, he could hear the laughter of the Europeans as they passed. He knew that only a portion of the men in this armada were fighting men; the rest were paddlers and carriers, not part of the combatant force. But a rough attempt to count the men bearing rifles gave him at least three hundred, and he started as he saw in one canoe what was clearly the shield of a machine gun. Captain Van Vorst, if it was he, undoubtedly meant business. Before the last canoe had passed their hiding-place Jack and Samba started to overtake their party. The former was deep in thought.
"We must reach the fort before them," he said.
"They go very slow," was Samba's reply.
"Yes, and the carrying of all their stores and canoes up the rapids will take many days. But we must hurry as fast as we can."
"Much chicotte for the paddlers," said Samba, with a grin.
Jack did not reply. He could not adopt the barbarous methods of the enemy; but he had not the heart to dash Samba's very natural hopes of paying back to the Askari something of what they had dealt to the carriers on the way down. Short of thrashing them he would urge them to their utmost speed. What difficulties he might meet with in regaining the fort he did not stop to consider. The thought of Barney holding his own there—had he been able to hold his own?—and of the large reinforcements coming to support Elbel, was a spur to activity. Ilombekabasi and its people were in danger; and the post of danger demanded the presence of Lokolobolo.
[1] Immediately.
[2] There.
"Lokolobolo! Lokolobolo! Lokolobol'olotsi! Lokolobolo is here! Lokolobolo has come back to us! Bolotsi O! Why do we laugh? Why do we sing? Samba has found Lokolobolo! Samba has brought him back to us!"
Ilombekabasi was delirious with joy. Men and women were shouting, laughing, singing; the children were dancing and blowing strident notes upon their little trumpets; Imbono's drummer was banging with all his might, filling the air with shattering thunder. Jack quivered with feeling; his lips trembled as he sat once more in his hut, listening to the jubilant cries his arrival had evoked. It was something, it was much, that he had been able so to win the devoted affection of these poor negroes of the Congo.
Outside, the two chiefs Imbono and Mboyo were talking of the joyful event.
"Yes! wonderful! Lokolobolo is here! and with him two strange white chiefs. Wonderful! Did you ever see such a big man? I am big," said Imbono, "but I am not so big as Makole the chief of Limpoko, and one of the strange white men is bigger than he."
"It needed two ropes to draw him up from the gully," said Mboyo. "I am strong, but though I had four men to help me it was hard work. He must be a very great chief."
"And the other must be a great chief too. Did not Samba say that Lokolobolo gave him his last bottle of devil water?"
"But the big man is hurt. It is the leg. It is not so bad as Ikola's; but Ikola was shot. They have put him in Barnio's hut; the other chief is with Lokolobolo. It is good that the white chiefs have come. Now Lokolobolo will sweep Elobela down the hillside, even as a straw in the storm."
"But what of the smoke-boat that Samba says is coming with the white men in white, and the black men in cloth the colour of straw, and things on their heads the colour of fire? Will Lokolobolo be able to beat them too?"
"Lokolobolo is able to beat all Bula Matadi; and he has the other white men to help. Never fear! Lokolobolo will beat them all. We shall see. There he is, coming out of his hut with the white chief. Lokolobolo wanda!"[1]
"You must be a proud man to-day, Mr. Challoner," said the stranger.
"I am too anxious to be proud," said Jack with a smile. "I haven't the heart to stop them shouting and making a noise, but it's a pity to disturb our enemy in the camp down yonder. I shall have to go and make a speech to them, I suppose; it is more in your line than mine, Mr. Arlington. Luckily I'm not sufficiently fluent in their language to be long-winded."
They went together into the midst of the throng.
When within three marches of Ilombekabasi Jack's party had stumbled upon a wretched encampment in the forest which proved to contain two white men and three negroes. Samba came upon them first, and, startled to find white men at this spot, he was cocking his rifle, supposing them to be State officers, when one of them called to him in a Congo dialect not to shoot; he was an Inglesa. When Jack came up he found that the taller of the two men, the one who had spoken, a huge fellow with a great black beard, was a missionary named Dathan, the other being the Honourable George Arlington, with whose name Jack was familiar. Mr. Arlington was a man of mark. After a brilliant career at Cambridge he had entered Parliament, and became an Under-Secretary of State at a younger age than almost any one before him. When his party was out of office he took the opportunity of travelling in many quarters of the globe, to study at first hand the great problems which more and more demand the attention of British statesmen. Now, in his fortieth year, he was recognized as an authority on the subjects which he had so specially made his own. He had come out to make a personal study of the Congo question, and in order to secure freedom of observation had decided to enter Congo territory, not from Boma, whence he would be shadowed throughout by officials, but from British territory through Uganda. In Unyoro he had met his old college chum Frank Dathan, now a missionary engaged on a tour of inspection of his Society's work in Central Africa. Dathan, having completed his task in Uganda, was to make his way into the Congo State and visit several mission stations there. The two friends thereupon arranged to travel together.
Mr. Arlington being anxious to see a little of what was an almost unexplored part of Africa, they chose as their route the northern fringe of the great forest. But they got into difficulties when they entered country which, though not yet "administered," or "exploited," was nominally Free State territory. At the sight of white men the natives they met with one accord took to the woods. The result was that the travellers were once or twice nearly starved; many of their carriers deserted with their loads; and they both suffered a good deal from exposure and privation. To crown their misfortunes, Dathan fell with a loose rock one day when he was climbing down a steep bank to get water, and broke his leg. Arlington tried without success to set the bone, and was hurrying on in the hope of finding a Free State outpost and a doctor when Jack came upon them.
Jack at once frankly explained his position. He did not give details of his work at Ilombekabasi, but he saw no reason for concealing the circumstances which had driven him into antagonism with the officials of the Concession. He related what had happened to his uncle, and how he had escaped from the net woven about him by Elbel; he told the strangers also what he had actually seen of the Congo Government's method of dealing with the natives. Then he asked them whether they would like to place themselves under the care of Elbel, who could, if he were disposed, send them under escort to Stanleyville, where the missionary might receive competent treatment. Both were disinclined to do this; they would prefer to keep themselves free from the Congo State or its Trusts. The alternative seemed to be to accompany Jack. This might certainly give rise to complications; Mr. Dathan especially was loth to appear to identify himself with an armed revolt against the State. Missionaries, as he told Jack, were already in bad odour with the authorities; they had told too much of what was going on. In many parts they had come to be looked upon as the natives' only defenders, and had done a little, a very little, towards mitigating the worst features of their lot. But he was still more loth even to seem to countenance Elbel's proceedings by seeking his camp; and Mr. Arlington thought that his presence in Ilombekabasi, when it became known to Elbel, might have a salutary effect on him. Ultimately, then, they decided to run the blockade with Jack into the fort.
The augmented party had had no difficulty in reaching their destination. The same general course was followed as had been arranged for the reception of Mr. Martindale's party. They halted in a copse on an eminence about six miles from the fort and above it. To reach this spot they had to make a longer circuit than either Mr. Martindale or Elbel in his first attempt to surprise Ilola. But before going farther it was necessary to discover how the land lay. Samba was obviously the best of the party for this scouting work, but he could hardly be spared if the fort happened to be too closely invested for the entrance of the whole party to be made. Jack therefore chose Makoko, a sturdy fellow and an excellent scout, scribbled a brief note to Barney, hid it in the negro's thick woolly hair, and sent him on alone. If he came safely to Ilombekabasi and it seemed to Barney possible to run the blockade, a flag was to be hoisted on one of the blockhouses. The signal would be acted on as soon as possible in the darkness.
Makoko left at nightfall. Before dawn Samba went on some two miles ahead to a place whence he could see the fort. He returned with the welcome news that a piece of red cloth was flying on the northern blockhouse. Jack waited impatiently throughout the day; as soon as it was dark Samba led the party forward. They moved slowly, partly to allow time for careful scouting, partly because Mr. Dathan had to be carried, and proved a heavy burden even for six strong Askari. No difficulties were met with; Elbel had ceased to patrol the surroundings of the fort at night, and in the early hours of the morning in pitch darkness the party marched quietly in at the gate on the north side of the fort. Jack put his own hut at Mr. Arlington's disposal. Mr. Dathan was carried to Barney's; and before hearing what had happened during his absence Jack insisted on the missionary's having his injuries attended to. Barney managed to set the broken limb, though not without causing a good deal of pain for which he whimsically apologized. Then Jack listened eagerly to his account of what had happened.
Elbel had made two serious attacks. The first was an attempt to carry the fort by assault, from the place whence he had sent his fire barrels rolling. But after the capture of Elbel's rifles and ammunition a considerable number of Jack's men who had hitherto been spearmen had been trained in the use of the Albini; so that Barney had a force of nearly ninety riflemen with which to meet the attack, half of them at least being good shots. One charge was enough for the enemy; the fire from the wall and blockhouses mowed down the advancing negroes by the score; they never reached the defences, but turned and fled to cover in the gully and behind the rocks above.
Ilombekabasi and Surrounding Country, showing the Diverted Stream and Elbel's Third CampIlombekabasi and Surrounding Country, showing the Diverted Stream and Elbel's Third Camp
Then Elbel demolished the dam he had built on the slope, and allowed the river to flow again in the channel it had cut for itself down the long incline to the eastward.
"What would he be doing that for, sorr? Seems to me he has wasted a terrible deal uv good time in putting up and pulling down. Two men I sent out as scouts niver came back, and I wondered to meself whether they'd been bagged, sorr, and had let out something that made Elbel want to play more tricks wid nature. Often did I see Elbel himself dodging round the fort wid his spyglass in his hand, and 'tis the truth's truth I let some uv the men have a little rifle practice at him. Sure he must have a cat's nine lives, sorr, for ten uv the niggers said they were sartin sure they'd hit him."
"Trying to solve our water puzzle, Barney! Go on."
There was an interval of some days; then, at daybreak one morning, while a strong demonstration, apparently the preliminary of an attack, was observed on the north and east, a body of men crept up the gully and made a sudden rush with ladders for the hole in the wall by which the scouts had been accustomed to go in and out. It was clear that Elbel's best men were engaged in this job, for Barney heard loud cries for help from the small body he had thought sufficient to leave on the western face of the fort. Rushing to the place with a handful of men, he was just in time to prevent the enemy from effecting an entrance. There was a brisk fight for two or three minutes; then the ladders placed against the wall were hurled into the gully, and with them the forlorn hope of the storming party.
"That was three days ago, sorr. And two or three uv our men declared they saw Mbota among the enemy, pointing out the very spot where the hole is—whin it is a hole. You remember Mbota, sorr—the man who brought in his wife on his back, her wid the hands cut off. 'Twas he I sent out scouting. Sure the chicotte had been at work wid him; for niver a wan uv our men, I would swear before the Lord Chancellor uv Ireland, would turn traitor widout they were in mortal terror for their lives, or even worse."
"And you have not been attacked since?"
"No, sorr. But I've had me throubles all the same. Samba ought to be made, beggin' your pardon, sorr, high constable uv this fort."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, sorr, 'cos it seems 'tis only he that can keep the peace. Would you believe it, sorr, the very next day after you were gone, Imbono's men and Mboyo's men began to quarrel; 'twas Orange and Green, sorr, and a fine shindy. Whin Samba was here, he'd make 'em laugh, and 'twas all calm as the Liffey; but widout Samba—bedad! sorr, I didn't know what in the world to do wid 'em. Sure I wished Elbel would fight all the time, so that there'd be no time left for the spalpeens here to fight wan another. But at last, sorr, a happy thought struck me; quite an intimation, as one might say. I remimbered the day when the master—rest his soul!—and you made yourselves blood-brothers uv Imbono. That was a mighty fine piece uv work, thinks I. So wan morning I had a big palaver—likambo the niggers call it, your honour." (Barney's air as he gave this information to Mr. Arlington was irresistibly laughable.) "I made a spache, and Lepoko turned it into their talk as well as he could, poor fellow; and sure they cheered it so powerful hard that I thought 'twas a mimber uv Parlimint I ought to be. Well, sorr, the end was I made Imbono and Mboyo blood-brothers, and niver a word uv difference have they had since."
"A plan that might be tried with leaders of parties at home," said Mr. Arlington with a smile.