CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND--A Counter StrokeJohn had every reason to be satisfied when he took stock of the results of the action. The enemy had been thoroughly routed, with considerable loss: he had no men killed, and only a few with superficial flesh wounds. But he looked grave enough when, at dinner-time, Ferrier confessed that he had already had to put the men on half rations."Our only hope is that the enemy have had enough of it and will clear off," he said. "The 'bad men,' at any rate, won't think much of their job.""And Juma himself has had a reminder that won't leave him for a few days. But if theydon'tclear off----""We must wait and see. There ought to be plenty of fish in this pool; couldn't we try a little angling?""What about hooks?""Well, there are some empty condensed milk-tins; we can make some sort of hooks out of them. And as for bait--I say, look there!"Two vultures were swooping down upon the western end of the island."Sickening!" said Ferrier, with a shudder. "I'll go and pot them and get the men to attend to things there. The birds will give us bait, and the men may like to eat them--I couldn't."Several large hooks were made out of milk-tins. A piece of rope was unravelled to form lines, and several of the men were soon sitting on the causeway, angling with portions of the vultures which Ferrier shot. In the course of an hour or two they caught several fish, large and small; but the total quantity was insignificant in comparison with what was needed to give all a full meal. They were all rather hungry when they settled down for the night, and the white men devoutly hoped that when morning dawned they would see that the enemy's force had broken up.In this they were disappointed. Daylight showed them parties of negroes hovering on the outskirts of the wood. That their intention was to resume their old tactics of watching the fort was proved before the day was over. A long line of women was observed coming from the north, bending under heavy loads."Grub for them," said Ferrier. "They're short, like us: but they can draw on the village while we starve.""I wonder if we could intercept a convoy," suggested John."Very risky: practically impossible. We couldn't tell when it's coming. We might have to wait a day or two, and miss it after all. Besides, we might be cut off; they're strong enough to keep us out if they get between us and the fort; and the garrison would be so much weakened that they couldn't hold out against a general attack. No: we mustn't think of it.""Well, it looks as if we must either break out or starve. We may starve in any case. We didn't pass a single cultivated field on the way up, and if we made a dash for home we should have to depend on game and what wild fruits we could pick up. I don't know what on earth we can do, that's a fact."Next day saw them no nearer a solution of the problem. The enemy were still in force, and the punishment they had received had not sufficed to detach the "bad men," who were easily distinguishable from the other negroes by their characteristic equipment. Juma had in fact persuaded them that the surrender of the white men was only a matter of time: they could not live without food, and while they remained in the fort to obtain food was impossible."Look here, Charley," said John that afternoon, "we can't stand this any longer. It's neck or nothing, and I'm for a bold course. That village up yonder is crammed with food-stuff of all kinds. They've just been harvesting. I vote we make a dash for it and seize enough to last us best part of the way home. All the fighting men are away, or nearly all. If we can only get there it'll be easy enough to capture the place and hold it as long as we like: there's a good stockade. But I don't want to hold it. We might stay there a day or two until our men are fed up, and then make tracks. Perhaps we'd have the luck to escape them; it's not likely, I admit. They would be between us and the farm: we should have to be uncommonly clever to dodge them; and as we couldn't move fast, with our men loaded, they're bound to come up with us some time or other. That would mean a fight in the open; perhaps a running fight for miles, with the odds of numbers against us. But I prefer fighting to starving; and it's Hobson's choice.""It means a night march.""Yes, but the men won't mind that. We haven't failed in anything so far, and success goes a long way with them.""Your escape has bucked them more than anything. Bill has told them some wonderful story about your voyage on the raft, and if you talked about taking a trip to the moon I believe they'd think it feasible.""Things couldn't be better, then. Suppose we start about eight o'clock--the enemy will all be asleep by then--we should have ten hours' grace before sunrise, more than long enough to get to the village, barring accidents.""That is, if they don't find out that we've gone.""Of course. I don't see why they should do that. They've never shown any inclination to attack us in the darkness, and if any of them keep a watch on the causeway side, they certainly don't at the other end, or Coja couldn't have got in. That's our way out. We shall have to keep the men quiet, but we've done that before, and when we've explained to them what's at stake they'll be on their mettle. We'll cross the pool in the canoes, and the paddles won't make any sound that they can hear, if we're careful.""I've an idea. While we're ferrying our things over, and most of the men, why not start the others on a sing-song? That would drown any noise we might make.""And wake the enemy! They'd wonder what was up. Why should we disturb their rest? Better not make any difference in our usual ways, I think: keep our fires burning, and give 'em no reason to think we're doing anything out of the ordinary.""You're right. There's a risk that in spite of all our care they'll hear something, but it will take 'em some time to make sure that we've gone, and it's ten to one they won't pursue us in the darkness.""And when they do find out, in the daylight, they'll probably waste some time in picking up the trail, unless they are good trackers, which we've no evidence of. I fancy we shall get, as I said, a good ten hours' start of them, and I defy 'em to catch us then--again barring accidents.""D'you think you can stand the march?""I'm going to chance it, anyway. Your rubbings have done me a deal of good, and we can't go very fast at night, so I think I'll manage to keep up. If I can't, you must just sling me on to a litter. I'm eleven stone two--or was; I suspect I've lost a few pounds lately; but four men could toddle along with me, and a dozen will have loads in any case. There's the ammunition, and all that flummery I gave to them; they won't want to leave that.""Suppose we find that some of the war-party have gone back?""It's not likely. They're here with the idea of getting loot, and not a man Jack of them will be willing to lose the chance of his share. Anyway, we must risk it. If we have luck we shall get to the village before it's light, and a sudden rush will have the effect it always has on them.""Well, it sounds rather promising, and, upon my word, I'm itching to be off.""All in good time, old man. I wish we could all have a good feed before we start, but perhaps the men will march the better with the promise of a meal before them."The preparation of the men's loads was set about betimes. The absence of large quantities of food was an advantage; the other goods could easily be carried by twelve of the men, and the labour would be lightened by transferring the loads to the others in turn.There was much excitement among the negroes when John explained his plan to them. The past successes had given them entire confidence in their leaders; and the prospect of actually capturing the village of the notorious "bad men" had a spice of daring about it which lent it a certain charm.At nightfall the canoes were let down over the wall and carried to the shore. Then the men conveyed the stores to them, moving so silently that only a very alert enemy could have detected the activity. The canoes had to make several journeys across the pool before all the goods and the men were ferried over. There was not a sound from the enemy's encampment. When all were safely landed, John called the men about him, and repeated his instructions to march quietly and above all to beware of straggling; then he set off with Bill to lead the way. Behind him came in order four askaris carrying rifles: then the twelve men with the ammunition and the assortment of oddments found in the fort; then six men bearing in litters three others whose wounds prevented them from marching. After these came the rest of the negroes, among whom the prisoner taken at the camp was enrolled, Ferrier and Coja bringing up the rear to ensure that there was no straggling at the end of the line.It was a dark night, but the sky was clear and the air cold. To make a direct course was impossible. Bill knew the way in the daytime, but at night he was completely at a loss. John, however, was aware of the general direction, and by keeping within touch of the river, as he could easily do by his sense of hearing, he knew that he could not go very far wrong, though the journey would necessarily be longer than if he had been able to avoid the windings. Fortunately in this hilly country the ground was much less obstructed by tangles of thorn than it was in the less elevated districts to the south, and the safari was not hindered by the annoying necessity of having to cut a way through pathless jungle.Nevertheless, the march was not devoid of trials and discomforts. The ground was very irregular, and at one point, where the bank of the river rose to a considerable height above the water-level, they found that they had come to a stretch of hard gravel interspersed with large fragments of a whitish rock, making progress very slow and difficult. Looking back, John saw the glow of the fires left burning in the fort--a little patch of red amid deep black. When they descended to grassy land again he stumbled over an obstruction about three feet high, which Bill told him was an ant-hill. A little further on he heard a strange whistling that seemed to come from a line of trees on his left hand. Hearing the men behind gulping, he halted, and got them to exchange loads, listening meanwhile to the weird and mournful sound, which now increased in volume, now died away in a doleful wail. He asked Bill if he recognized the sound as that of an animal, but he replied that he had never heard it before. After a few moments John observed that the sound rose and fell with the gusts of wind, and concluded that it was caused by the breeze sweeping through the trees. He reassured the men; but it was not till long afterwards he discovered the origin of the sound. The trees were a species of thorn about eight feet high, with leafless branches on which hung a number of hollow seed-pods. In these an insect bores a hole, and the wind, passing through the innumerable tiny apertures, produces the musical notes which so much disturbed the negroes.After about two hours, John felt much fatigued. The continued exertion had revived the dull aching pain in his back and limbs, and he thought it prudent to rest awhile. The progress had been so good that he could afford to waste an hour: there would still be time to reach the village before the dawn. The whole party lay down on a grassy knoll, speaking only in whispers. Occasionally the cry of some night-bird broke the stillness, and once there came, from far away, the sharp bark of a hyena. At the end of an hour the safari was again on foot. Twice more John found himself compelled to halt, and after the second time Ferrier persuaded him to let four of the men carry him, in a litter which they quickly made by slinging one of the blankets between two rifles. Always taking the river as guide, they pressed on again. At last, when the sounds of re-awakening life in the trees proclaimed that dawn was at hand, they came to the foot of a long grassy acclivity which John felt sure led up to the village. After a consultation with Ferrier, he decided to wait a little until there was light enough to show them the way clearly. The air was misty, but the blackness of night was passing, and at length they were able to see the goal of their long march--the "bad men's" village, lying in perfect stillness on the hill-top.John led the men among some trees, and waited until he saw the gate opened, and a number of women come out and wend their way into the plantations to the left. When they were out of sight, he ordered the men to leave their loads and follow him closely without a sound. Then, regardless of his pain, he led the way at a steady run up the hill. Ferrier came to his side."We do this together, old boy," he said.On they went. They had almost reached the stockade when a woman in the fields to the left saw them, and uttered a loud shriek. John quickened his pace; the men, unable to restrain themselves any longer, raised their voices in a tremendous shout. A few seconds later the whole party, the white men still leading, dashed through the gate, and along the single street, causing a wild stampede among the children playing there, and the women who were moving about. The uproar drew several men from their huts, where they were no doubt indulging themselves in a final nap while their womenkind prepared breakfast. Almost all were old men. At the sight of the invading horde they yelled and fled. John hurried on towards the compound where he had seen the war-party assemble. As the scared negroes left the street vacant, he was struck with amazement at the sight that met his eyes. At the entrance of a hut at one side of the central space stood a figure in white. He had risen from bending over a cooking-pot. Next moment Said Mohammed came towards his master, walking leisurely, his face beaming with smiles."Good morning, sir," he said blithely. "You have come in nick of time. Banana fritters, new dish to savage with untutored mind, are done to a turn. On point of tickling unappreciative palates, they now serve nobler end, delectating connoisseur who knows what's what. With respect, sir, I'm jolly glad to see you."Thus the village of the "bad men" was carried without a blow.John sent Coja back with a few men to bring in the loads and secure the gate. Then he lost no time in hunting through the village, and learnt, as he had hoped, that there were very few men left in it; and these for the most part old and negligible as a fighting force. He had given strict orders to his party not to injure any one wantonly. The women, seeing that there was no burning or slaughtering, recovered from their first fright. They recognized the prisoner in whom they had been so much interested, and their curiosity overcoming every other feeling, they drew slowly nearer to the strangers, uttering little shrieks of excitement. John made them understand that the men were hungry, and they ran with alacrity into their huts, not at all averse from preparing a meal for such inoffensive visitors. Meanwhile Said Mohammed had instantly seized his own cooking-pot and other utensils from the men who carried them, and set to work to cook more banana fritters and other dainties to which the white men had been strangers for many a day. Before long the whole party were seated, enjoying a capital breakfast, the men laughing and chattering like light-hearted children. In the midst of the repast they broke into song, one of them chanting a line of solo, the rest chiming in with a boisterous chorus.(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?(Chorus) They went to the place of the bad men.(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?(Chorus) To get very much foodFor themselves and the good men.The white men must eat,The black men must eat,In the place of the bad men is very much food,O, eat all the food of the bad men.John smiled rather wistfully as he translated the song to Ferrier."Poor devils!" he said. "They don't think of what they may have to go through before they get home. Just like children.... We thought we'd never see you again, khansaman. What became of you?""Sir, I will round unvarnished tale deliver. Crossing stream, a thousand horse-leeches take fancy to my nether extremities, and cling like grim death. I make saltatory gyrations to shunt obnoxious hangers-on, when lo! enter crocodile, without introduction, his room better than his company. I was in blue funk, sir, and scooted, with celerity and splash. In agitation of moment I forgot my pals, and when I look round, behold! they are no more. I call: no answer; I call again: silence that can be felt. You could hear a pin drop. In the charming words of the handsome but afflicted Lord Byron--'What next befell me then and thereI know not well--I never knew:'but when I came to myself, to quote from same sublime poem--'I had not strength to stir, nor strive,But felt that I was still alive,'for, below, leeches suck my vital fluid; above, black men have me in grip as firm as metropolitan bobby. They propel me, sir, with indignity to reverse of the medal, to this identical spot.'First came the loss of light, and air,And then of darkness too:'in other words, I, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University, am consigned to ignominious horizontal extension on floor of beastly hovel. I suffer in silence,'Nor call the gods with vulgar spiteTo vindicate my hapless right.'--Allow me to offer you another fritter, sir.""Thanks. What next? Fire away!""After horrid night, sir, over which I draw veil of decency, I am transported into light of day. Hail, smiling morn! I purchase freedom by generous offer to teach fair sex a thing or two. Casting pearls before swine, sir; pains thrown away. But I earn my salt, and the rest is blank page, clean slate, until I hear the tramp of armed men, and behold, the grand finale!""I am glad things have ended so well," said John. "And I must say, khansaman, it was very handsome and plucky of you to undertake a search for me."The Bengali bowed deprecatingly; then he said--"But alas! sir, the web of our life is mingled yarn, both good and evil together, as says sweet swan of Avon. There is fly in ointment; gilt is off ginger-bread. Coja, very good chap, has left sublunary sphere. 'He will awake no more, oh, never more!' to quote the words of Percy Bysshe Shelley, also failed B.A. We ne'er shall look upon his like again. Who would not weep for---- By gum! This knocks me silly all of a heap! There he is!""Yes," said John, laughing, "and you can exchange notes while I take a look round."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SECOND--A Counter StrokeJohn had every reason to be satisfied when he took stock of the results of the action. The enemy had been thoroughly routed, with considerable loss: he had no men killed, and only a few with superficial flesh wounds. But he looked grave enough when, at dinner-time, Ferrier confessed that he had already had to put the men on half rations."Our only hope is that the enemy have had enough of it and will clear off," he said. "The 'bad men,' at any rate, won't think much of their job.""And Juma himself has had a reminder that won't leave him for a few days. But if theydon'tclear off----""We must wait and see. There ought to be plenty of fish in this pool; couldn't we try a little angling?""What about hooks?""Well, there are some empty condensed milk-tins; we can make some sort of hooks out of them. And as for bait--I say, look there!"Two vultures were swooping down upon the western end of the island."Sickening!" said Ferrier, with a shudder. "I'll go and pot them and get the men to attend to things there. The birds will give us bait, and the men may like to eat them--I couldn't."Several large hooks were made out of milk-tins. A piece of rope was unravelled to form lines, and several of the men were soon sitting on the causeway, angling with portions of the vultures which Ferrier shot. In the course of an hour or two they caught several fish, large and small; but the total quantity was insignificant in comparison with what was needed to give all a full meal. They were all rather hungry when they settled down for the night, and the white men devoutly hoped that when morning dawned they would see that the enemy's force had broken up.In this they were disappointed. Daylight showed them parties of negroes hovering on the outskirts of the wood. That their intention was to resume their old tactics of watching the fort was proved before the day was over. A long line of women was observed coming from the north, bending under heavy loads."Grub for them," said Ferrier. "They're short, like us: but they can draw on the village while we starve.""I wonder if we could intercept a convoy," suggested John."Very risky: practically impossible. We couldn't tell when it's coming. We might have to wait a day or two, and miss it after all. Besides, we might be cut off; they're strong enough to keep us out if they get between us and the fort; and the garrison would be so much weakened that they couldn't hold out against a general attack. No: we mustn't think of it.""Well, it looks as if we must either break out or starve. We may starve in any case. We didn't pass a single cultivated field on the way up, and if we made a dash for home we should have to depend on game and what wild fruits we could pick up. I don't know what on earth we can do, that's a fact."Next day saw them no nearer a solution of the problem. The enemy were still in force, and the punishment they had received had not sufficed to detach the "bad men," who were easily distinguishable from the other negroes by their characteristic equipment. Juma had in fact persuaded them that the surrender of the white men was only a matter of time: they could not live without food, and while they remained in the fort to obtain food was impossible."Look here, Charley," said John that afternoon, "we can't stand this any longer. It's neck or nothing, and I'm for a bold course. That village up yonder is crammed with food-stuff of all kinds. They've just been harvesting. I vote we make a dash for it and seize enough to last us best part of the way home. All the fighting men are away, or nearly all. If we can only get there it'll be easy enough to capture the place and hold it as long as we like: there's a good stockade. But I don't want to hold it. We might stay there a day or two until our men are fed up, and then make tracks. Perhaps we'd have the luck to escape them; it's not likely, I admit. They would be between us and the farm: we should have to be uncommonly clever to dodge them; and as we couldn't move fast, with our men loaded, they're bound to come up with us some time or other. That would mean a fight in the open; perhaps a running fight for miles, with the odds of numbers against us. But I prefer fighting to starving; and it's Hobson's choice.""It means a night march.""Yes, but the men won't mind that. We haven't failed in anything so far, and success goes a long way with them.""Your escape has bucked them more than anything. Bill has told them some wonderful story about your voyage on the raft, and if you talked about taking a trip to the moon I believe they'd think it feasible.""Things couldn't be better, then. Suppose we start about eight o'clock--the enemy will all be asleep by then--we should have ten hours' grace before sunrise, more than long enough to get to the village, barring accidents.""That is, if they don't find out that we've gone.""Of course. I don't see why they should do that. They've never shown any inclination to attack us in the darkness, and if any of them keep a watch on the causeway side, they certainly don't at the other end, or Coja couldn't have got in. That's our way out. We shall have to keep the men quiet, but we've done that before, and when we've explained to them what's at stake they'll be on their mettle. We'll cross the pool in the canoes, and the paddles won't make any sound that they can hear, if we're careful.""I've an idea. While we're ferrying our things over, and most of the men, why not start the others on a sing-song? That would drown any noise we might make.""And wake the enemy! They'd wonder what was up. Why should we disturb their rest? Better not make any difference in our usual ways, I think: keep our fires burning, and give 'em no reason to think we're doing anything out of the ordinary.""You're right. There's a risk that in spite of all our care they'll hear something, but it will take 'em some time to make sure that we've gone, and it's ten to one they won't pursue us in the darkness.""And when they do find out, in the daylight, they'll probably waste some time in picking up the trail, unless they are good trackers, which we've no evidence of. I fancy we shall get, as I said, a good ten hours' start of them, and I defy 'em to catch us then--again barring accidents.""D'you think you can stand the march?""I'm going to chance it, anyway. Your rubbings have done me a deal of good, and we can't go very fast at night, so I think I'll manage to keep up. If I can't, you must just sling me on to a litter. I'm eleven stone two--or was; I suspect I've lost a few pounds lately; but four men could toddle along with me, and a dozen will have loads in any case. There's the ammunition, and all that flummery I gave to them; they won't want to leave that.""Suppose we find that some of the war-party have gone back?""It's not likely. They're here with the idea of getting loot, and not a man Jack of them will be willing to lose the chance of his share. Anyway, we must risk it. If we have luck we shall get to the village before it's light, and a sudden rush will have the effect it always has on them.""Well, it sounds rather promising, and, upon my word, I'm itching to be off.""All in good time, old man. I wish we could all have a good feed before we start, but perhaps the men will march the better with the promise of a meal before them."The preparation of the men's loads was set about betimes. The absence of large quantities of food was an advantage; the other goods could easily be carried by twelve of the men, and the labour would be lightened by transferring the loads to the others in turn.There was much excitement among the negroes when John explained his plan to them. The past successes had given them entire confidence in their leaders; and the prospect of actually capturing the village of the notorious "bad men" had a spice of daring about it which lent it a certain charm.At nightfall the canoes were let down over the wall and carried to the shore. Then the men conveyed the stores to them, moving so silently that only a very alert enemy could have detected the activity. The canoes had to make several journeys across the pool before all the goods and the men were ferried over. There was not a sound from the enemy's encampment. When all were safely landed, John called the men about him, and repeated his instructions to march quietly and above all to beware of straggling; then he set off with Bill to lead the way. Behind him came in order four askaris carrying rifles: then the twelve men with the ammunition and the assortment of oddments found in the fort; then six men bearing in litters three others whose wounds prevented them from marching. After these came the rest of the negroes, among whom the prisoner taken at the camp was enrolled, Ferrier and Coja bringing up the rear to ensure that there was no straggling at the end of the line.It was a dark night, but the sky was clear and the air cold. To make a direct course was impossible. Bill knew the way in the daytime, but at night he was completely at a loss. John, however, was aware of the general direction, and by keeping within touch of the river, as he could easily do by his sense of hearing, he knew that he could not go very far wrong, though the journey would necessarily be longer than if he had been able to avoid the windings. Fortunately in this hilly country the ground was much less obstructed by tangles of thorn than it was in the less elevated districts to the south, and the safari was not hindered by the annoying necessity of having to cut a way through pathless jungle.Nevertheless, the march was not devoid of trials and discomforts. The ground was very irregular, and at one point, where the bank of the river rose to a considerable height above the water-level, they found that they had come to a stretch of hard gravel interspersed with large fragments of a whitish rock, making progress very slow and difficult. Looking back, John saw the glow of the fires left burning in the fort--a little patch of red amid deep black. When they descended to grassy land again he stumbled over an obstruction about three feet high, which Bill told him was an ant-hill. A little further on he heard a strange whistling that seemed to come from a line of trees on his left hand. Hearing the men behind gulping, he halted, and got them to exchange loads, listening meanwhile to the weird and mournful sound, which now increased in volume, now died away in a doleful wail. He asked Bill if he recognized the sound as that of an animal, but he replied that he had never heard it before. After a few moments John observed that the sound rose and fell with the gusts of wind, and concluded that it was caused by the breeze sweeping through the trees. He reassured the men; but it was not till long afterwards he discovered the origin of the sound. The trees were a species of thorn about eight feet high, with leafless branches on which hung a number of hollow seed-pods. In these an insect bores a hole, and the wind, passing through the innumerable tiny apertures, produces the musical notes which so much disturbed the negroes.After about two hours, John felt much fatigued. The continued exertion had revived the dull aching pain in his back and limbs, and he thought it prudent to rest awhile. The progress had been so good that he could afford to waste an hour: there would still be time to reach the village before the dawn. The whole party lay down on a grassy knoll, speaking only in whispers. Occasionally the cry of some night-bird broke the stillness, and once there came, from far away, the sharp bark of a hyena. At the end of an hour the safari was again on foot. Twice more John found himself compelled to halt, and after the second time Ferrier persuaded him to let four of the men carry him, in a litter which they quickly made by slinging one of the blankets between two rifles. Always taking the river as guide, they pressed on again. At last, when the sounds of re-awakening life in the trees proclaimed that dawn was at hand, they came to the foot of a long grassy acclivity which John felt sure led up to the village. After a consultation with Ferrier, he decided to wait a little until there was light enough to show them the way clearly. The air was misty, but the blackness of night was passing, and at length they were able to see the goal of their long march--the "bad men's" village, lying in perfect stillness on the hill-top.John led the men among some trees, and waited until he saw the gate opened, and a number of women come out and wend their way into the plantations to the left. When they were out of sight, he ordered the men to leave their loads and follow him closely without a sound. Then, regardless of his pain, he led the way at a steady run up the hill. Ferrier came to his side."We do this together, old boy," he said.On they went. They had almost reached the stockade when a woman in the fields to the left saw them, and uttered a loud shriek. John quickened his pace; the men, unable to restrain themselves any longer, raised their voices in a tremendous shout. A few seconds later the whole party, the white men still leading, dashed through the gate, and along the single street, causing a wild stampede among the children playing there, and the women who were moving about. The uproar drew several men from their huts, where they were no doubt indulging themselves in a final nap while their womenkind prepared breakfast. Almost all were old men. At the sight of the invading horde they yelled and fled. John hurried on towards the compound where he had seen the war-party assemble. As the scared negroes left the street vacant, he was struck with amazement at the sight that met his eyes. At the entrance of a hut at one side of the central space stood a figure in white. He had risen from bending over a cooking-pot. Next moment Said Mohammed came towards his master, walking leisurely, his face beaming with smiles."Good morning, sir," he said blithely. "You have come in nick of time. Banana fritters, new dish to savage with untutored mind, are done to a turn. On point of tickling unappreciative palates, they now serve nobler end, delectating connoisseur who knows what's what. With respect, sir, I'm jolly glad to see you."Thus the village of the "bad men" was carried without a blow.John sent Coja back with a few men to bring in the loads and secure the gate. Then he lost no time in hunting through the village, and learnt, as he had hoped, that there were very few men left in it; and these for the most part old and negligible as a fighting force. He had given strict orders to his party not to injure any one wantonly. The women, seeing that there was no burning or slaughtering, recovered from their first fright. They recognized the prisoner in whom they had been so much interested, and their curiosity overcoming every other feeling, they drew slowly nearer to the strangers, uttering little shrieks of excitement. John made them understand that the men were hungry, and they ran with alacrity into their huts, not at all averse from preparing a meal for such inoffensive visitors. Meanwhile Said Mohammed had instantly seized his own cooking-pot and other utensils from the men who carried them, and set to work to cook more banana fritters and other dainties to which the white men had been strangers for many a day. Before long the whole party were seated, enjoying a capital breakfast, the men laughing and chattering like light-hearted children. In the midst of the repast they broke into song, one of them chanting a line of solo, the rest chiming in with a boisterous chorus.(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?(Chorus) They went to the place of the bad men.(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?(Chorus) To get very much foodFor themselves and the good men.The white men must eat,The black men must eat,In the place of the bad men is very much food,O, eat all the food of the bad men.John smiled rather wistfully as he translated the song to Ferrier."Poor devils!" he said. "They don't think of what they may have to go through before they get home. Just like children.... We thought we'd never see you again, khansaman. What became of you?""Sir, I will round unvarnished tale deliver. Crossing stream, a thousand horse-leeches take fancy to my nether extremities, and cling like grim death. I make saltatory gyrations to shunt obnoxious hangers-on, when lo! enter crocodile, without introduction, his room better than his company. I was in blue funk, sir, and scooted, with celerity and splash. In agitation of moment I forgot my pals, and when I look round, behold! they are no more. I call: no answer; I call again: silence that can be felt. You could hear a pin drop. In the charming words of the handsome but afflicted Lord Byron--'What next befell me then and thereI know not well--I never knew:'but when I came to myself, to quote from same sublime poem--'I had not strength to stir, nor strive,But felt that I was still alive,'for, below, leeches suck my vital fluid; above, black men have me in grip as firm as metropolitan bobby. They propel me, sir, with indignity to reverse of the medal, to this identical spot.'First came the loss of light, and air,And then of darkness too:'in other words, I, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University, am consigned to ignominious horizontal extension on floor of beastly hovel. I suffer in silence,'Nor call the gods with vulgar spiteTo vindicate my hapless right.'--Allow me to offer you another fritter, sir.""Thanks. What next? Fire away!""After horrid night, sir, over which I draw veil of decency, I am transported into light of day. Hail, smiling morn! I purchase freedom by generous offer to teach fair sex a thing or two. Casting pearls before swine, sir; pains thrown away. But I earn my salt, and the rest is blank page, clean slate, until I hear the tramp of armed men, and behold, the grand finale!""I am glad things have ended so well," said John. "And I must say, khansaman, it was very handsome and plucky of you to undertake a search for me."The Bengali bowed deprecatingly; then he said--"But alas! sir, the web of our life is mingled yarn, both good and evil together, as says sweet swan of Avon. There is fly in ointment; gilt is off ginger-bread. Coja, very good chap, has left sublunary sphere. 'He will awake no more, oh, never more!' to quote the words of Percy Bysshe Shelley, also failed B.A. We ne'er shall look upon his like again. Who would not weep for---- By gum! This knocks me silly all of a heap! There he is!""Yes," said John, laughing, "and you can exchange notes while I take a look round."
John had every reason to be satisfied when he took stock of the results of the action. The enemy had been thoroughly routed, with considerable loss: he had no men killed, and only a few with superficial flesh wounds. But he looked grave enough when, at dinner-time, Ferrier confessed that he had already had to put the men on half rations.
"Our only hope is that the enemy have had enough of it and will clear off," he said. "The 'bad men,' at any rate, won't think much of their job."
"And Juma himself has had a reminder that won't leave him for a few days. But if theydon'tclear off----"
"We must wait and see. There ought to be plenty of fish in this pool; couldn't we try a little angling?"
"What about hooks?"
"Well, there are some empty condensed milk-tins; we can make some sort of hooks out of them. And as for bait--I say, look there!"
Two vultures were swooping down upon the western end of the island.
"Sickening!" said Ferrier, with a shudder. "I'll go and pot them and get the men to attend to things there. The birds will give us bait, and the men may like to eat them--I couldn't."
Several large hooks were made out of milk-tins. A piece of rope was unravelled to form lines, and several of the men were soon sitting on the causeway, angling with portions of the vultures which Ferrier shot. In the course of an hour or two they caught several fish, large and small; but the total quantity was insignificant in comparison with what was needed to give all a full meal. They were all rather hungry when they settled down for the night, and the white men devoutly hoped that when morning dawned they would see that the enemy's force had broken up.
In this they were disappointed. Daylight showed them parties of negroes hovering on the outskirts of the wood. That their intention was to resume their old tactics of watching the fort was proved before the day was over. A long line of women was observed coming from the north, bending under heavy loads.
"Grub for them," said Ferrier. "They're short, like us: but they can draw on the village while we starve."
"I wonder if we could intercept a convoy," suggested John.
"Very risky: practically impossible. We couldn't tell when it's coming. We might have to wait a day or two, and miss it after all. Besides, we might be cut off; they're strong enough to keep us out if they get between us and the fort; and the garrison would be so much weakened that they couldn't hold out against a general attack. No: we mustn't think of it."
"Well, it looks as if we must either break out or starve. We may starve in any case. We didn't pass a single cultivated field on the way up, and if we made a dash for home we should have to depend on game and what wild fruits we could pick up. I don't know what on earth we can do, that's a fact."
Next day saw them no nearer a solution of the problem. The enemy were still in force, and the punishment they had received had not sufficed to detach the "bad men," who were easily distinguishable from the other negroes by their characteristic equipment. Juma had in fact persuaded them that the surrender of the white men was only a matter of time: they could not live without food, and while they remained in the fort to obtain food was impossible.
"Look here, Charley," said John that afternoon, "we can't stand this any longer. It's neck or nothing, and I'm for a bold course. That village up yonder is crammed with food-stuff of all kinds. They've just been harvesting. I vote we make a dash for it and seize enough to last us best part of the way home. All the fighting men are away, or nearly all. If we can only get there it'll be easy enough to capture the place and hold it as long as we like: there's a good stockade. But I don't want to hold it. We might stay there a day or two until our men are fed up, and then make tracks. Perhaps we'd have the luck to escape them; it's not likely, I admit. They would be between us and the farm: we should have to be uncommonly clever to dodge them; and as we couldn't move fast, with our men loaded, they're bound to come up with us some time or other. That would mean a fight in the open; perhaps a running fight for miles, with the odds of numbers against us. But I prefer fighting to starving; and it's Hobson's choice."
"It means a night march."
"Yes, but the men won't mind that. We haven't failed in anything so far, and success goes a long way with them."
"Your escape has bucked them more than anything. Bill has told them some wonderful story about your voyage on the raft, and if you talked about taking a trip to the moon I believe they'd think it feasible."
"Things couldn't be better, then. Suppose we start about eight o'clock--the enemy will all be asleep by then--we should have ten hours' grace before sunrise, more than long enough to get to the village, barring accidents."
"That is, if they don't find out that we've gone."
"Of course. I don't see why they should do that. They've never shown any inclination to attack us in the darkness, and if any of them keep a watch on the causeway side, they certainly don't at the other end, or Coja couldn't have got in. That's our way out. We shall have to keep the men quiet, but we've done that before, and when we've explained to them what's at stake they'll be on their mettle. We'll cross the pool in the canoes, and the paddles won't make any sound that they can hear, if we're careful."
"I've an idea. While we're ferrying our things over, and most of the men, why not start the others on a sing-song? That would drown any noise we might make."
"And wake the enemy! They'd wonder what was up. Why should we disturb their rest? Better not make any difference in our usual ways, I think: keep our fires burning, and give 'em no reason to think we're doing anything out of the ordinary."
"You're right. There's a risk that in spite of all our care they'll hear something, but it will take 'em some time to make sure that we've gone, and it's ten to one they won't pursue us in the darkness."
"And when they do find out, in the daylight, they'll probably waste some time in picking up the trail, unless they are good trackers, which we've no evidence of. I fancy we shall get, as I said, a good ten hours' start of them, and I defy 'em to catch us then--again barring accidents."
"D'you think you can stand the march?"
"I'm going to chance it, anyway. Your rubbings have done me a deal of good, and we can't go very fast at night, so I think I'll manage to keep up. If I can't, you must just sling me on to a litter. I'm eleven stone two--or was; I suspect I've lost a few pounds lately; but four men could toddle along with me, and a dozen will have loads in any case. There's the ammunition, and all that flummery I gave to them; they won't want to leave that."
"Suppose we find that some of the war-party have gone back?"
"It's not likely. They're here with the idea of getting loot, and not a man Jack of them will be willing to lose the chance of his share. Anyway, we must risk it. If we have luck we shall get to the village before it's light, and a sudden rush will have the effect it always has on them."
"Well, it sounds rather promising, and, upon my word, I'm itching to be off."
"All in good time, old man. I wish we could all have a good feed before we start, but perhaps the men will march the better with the promise of a meal before them."
The preparation of the men's loads was set about betimes. The absence of large quantities of food was an advantage; the other goods could easily be carried by twelve of the men, and the labour would be lightened by transferring the loads to the others in turn.
There was much excitement among the negroes when John explained his plan to them. The past successes had given them entire confidence in their leaders; and the prospect of actually capturing the village of the notorious "bad men" had a spice of daring about it which lent it a certain charm.
At nightfall the canoes were let down over the wall and carried to the shore. Then the men conveyed the stores to them, moving so silently that only a very alert enemy could have detected the activity. The canoes had to make several journeys across the pool before all the goods and the men were ferried over. There was not a sound from the enemy's encampment. When all were safely landed, John called the men about him, and repeated his instructions to march quietly and above all to beware of straggling; then he set off with Bill to lead the way. Behind him came in order four askaris carrying rifles: then the twelve men with the ammunition and the assortment of oddments found in the fort; then six men bearing in litters three others whose wounds prevented them from marching. After these came the rest of the negroes, among whom the prisoner taken at the camp was enrolled, Ferrier and Coja bringing up the rear to ensure that there was no straggling at the end of the line.
It was a dark night, but the sky was clear and the air cold. To make a direct course was impossible. Bill knew the way in the daytime, but at night he was completely at a loss. John, however, was aware of the general direction, and by keeping within touch of the river, as he could easily do by his sense of hearing, he knew that he could not go very far wrong, though the journey would necessarily be longer than if he had been able to avoid the windings. Fortunately in this hilly country the ground was much less obstructed by tangles of thorn than it was in the less elevated districts to the south, and the safari was not hindered by the annoying necessity of having to cut a way through pathless jungle.
Nevertheless, the march was not devoid of trials and discomforts. The ground was very irregular, and at one point, where the bank of the river rose to a considerable height above the water-level, they found that they had come to a stretch of hard gravel interspersed with large fragments of a whitish rock, making progress very slow and difficult. Looking back, John saw the glow of the fires left burning in the fort--a little patch of red amid deep black. When they descended to grassy land again he stumbled over an obstruction about three feet high, which Bill told him was an ant-hill. A little further on he heard a strange whistling that seemed to come from a line of trees on his left hand. Hearing the men behind gulping, he halted, and got them to exchange loads, listening meanwhile to the weird and mournful sound, which now increased in volume, now died away in a doleful wail. He asked Bill if he recognized the sound as that of an animal, but he replied that he had never heard it before. After a few moments John observed that the sound rose and fell with the gusts of wind, and concluded that it was caused by the breeze sweeping through the trees. He reassured the men; but it was not till long afterwards he discovered the origin of the sound. The trees were a species of thorn about eight feet high, with leafless branches on which hung a number of hollow seed-pods. In these an insect bores a hole, and the wind, passing through the innumerable tiny apertures, produces the musical notes which so much disturbed the negroes.
After about two hours, John felt much fatigued. The continued exertion had revived the dull aching pain in his back and limbs, and he thought it prudent to rest awhile. The progress had been so good that he could afford to waste an hour: there would still be time to reach the village before the dawn. The whole party lay down on a grassy knoll, speaking only in whispers. Occasionally the cry of some night-bird broke the stillness, and once there came, from far away, the sharp bark of a hyena. At the end of an hour the safari was again on foot. Twice more John found himself compelled to halt, and after the second time Ferrier persuaded him to let four of the men carry him, in a litter which they quickly made by slinging one of the blankets between two rifles. Always taking the river as guide, they pressed on again. At last, when the sounds of re-awakening life in the trees proclaimed that dawn was at hand, they came to the foot of a long grassy acclivity which John felt sure led up to the village. After a consultation with Ferrier, he decided to wait a little until there was light enough to show them the way clearly. The air was misty, but the blackness of night was passing, and at length they were able to see the goal of their long march--the "bad men's" village, lying in perfect stillness on the hill-top.
John led the men among some trees, and waited until he saw the gate opened, and a number of women come out and wend their way into the plantations to the left. When they were out of sight, he ordered the men to leave their loads and follow him closely without a sound. Then, regardless of his pain, he led the way at a steady run up the hill. Ferrier came to his side.
"We do this together, old boy," he said.
On they went. They had almost reached the stockade when a woman in the fields to the left saw them, and uttered a loud shriek. John quickened his pace; the men, unable to restrain themselves any longer, raised their voices in a tremendous shout. A few seconds later the whole party, the white men still leading, dashed through the gate, and along the single street, causing a wild stampede among the children playing there, and the women who were moving about. The uproar drew several men from their huts, where they were no doubt indulging themselves in a final nap while their womenkind prepared breakfast. Almost all were old men. At the sight of the invading horde they yelled and fled. John hurried on towards the compound where he had seen the war-party assemble. As the scared negroes left the street vacant, he was struck with amazement at the sight that met his eyes. At the entrance of a hut at one side of the central space stood a figure in white. He had risen from bending over a cooking-pot. Next moment Said Mohammed came towards his master, walking leisurely, his face beaming with smiles.
"Good morning, sir," he said blithely. "You have come in nick of time. Banana fritters, new dish to savage with untutored mind, are done to a turn. On point of tickling unappreciative palates, they now serve nobler end, delectating connoisseur who knows what's what. With respect, sir, I'm jolly glad to see you."
Thus the village of the "bad men" was carried without a blow.
John sent Coja back with a few men to bring in the loads and secure the gate. Then he lost no time in hunting through the village, and learnt, as he had hoped, that there were very few men left in it; and these for the most part old and negligible as a fighting force. He had given strict orders to his party not to injure any one wantonly. The women, seeing that there was no burning or slaughtering, recovered from their first fright. They recognized the prisoner in whom they had been so much interested, and their curiosity overcoming every other feeling, they drew slowly nearer to the strangers, uttering little shrieks of excitement. John made them understand that the men were hungry, and they ran with alacrity into their huts, not at all averse from preparing a meal for such inoffensive visitors. Meanwhile Said Mohammed had instantly seized his own cooking-pot and other utensils from the men who carried them, and set to work to cook more banana fritters and other dainties to which the white men had been strangers for many a day. Before long the whole party were seated, enjoying a capital breakfast, the men laughing and chattering like light-hearted children. In the midst of the repast they broke into song, one of them chanting a line of solo, the rest chiming in with a boisterous chorus.
(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?(Chorus) They went to the place of the bad men.(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?(Chorus) To get very much foodFor themselves and the good men.The white men must eat,The black men must eat,In the place of the bad men is very much food,O, eat all the food of the bad men.
(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?(Chorus) They went to the place of the bad men.(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?(Chorus) To get very much foodFor themselves and the good men.The white men must eat,The black men must eat,In the place of the bad men is very much food,O, eat all the food of the bad men.
(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?
(Solo) Where did the white men go in the night?
(Chorus) They went to the place of the bad men.
(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?
(Solo) Why did they go to the place of the bad men?
(Chorus) To get very much food
For themselves and the good men.The white men must eat,The black men must eat,In the place of the bad men is very much food,O, eat all the food of the bad men.
For themselves and the good men.The white men must eat,The black men must eat,In the place of the bad men is very much food,O, eat all the food of the bad men.
For themselves and the good men.
The white men must eat,
The black men must eat,
In the place of the bad men is very much food,
O, eat all the food of the bad men.
John smiled rather wistfully as he translated the song to Ferrier.
"Poor devils!" he said. "They don't think of what they may have to go through before they get home. Just like children.... We thought we'd never see you again, khansaman. What became of you?"
"Sir, I will round unvarnished tale deliver. Crossing stream, a thousand horse-leeches take fancy to my nether extremities, and cling like grim death. I make saltatory gyrations to shunt obnoxious hangers-on, when lo! enter crocodile, without introduction, his room better than his company. I was in blue funk, sir, and scooted, with celerity and splash. In agitation of moment I forgot my pals, and when I look round, behold! they are no more. I call: no answer; I call again: silence that can be felt. You could hear a pin drop. In the charming words of the handsome but afflicted Lord Byron--
'What next befell me then and thereI know not well--I never knew:'
'What next befell me then and thereI know not well--I never knew:'
'What next befell me then and there
I know not well--I never knew:'
but when I came to myself, to quote from same sublime poem--
'I had not strength to stir, nor strive,But felt that I was still alive,'
'I had not strength to stir, nor strive,But felt that I was still alive,'
'I had not strength to stir, nor strive,
But felt that I was still alive,'
for, below, leeches suck my vital fluid; above, black men have me in grip as firm as metropolitan bobby. They propel me, sir, with indignity to reverse of the medal, to this identical spot.
'First came the loss of light, and air,And then of darkness too:'
'First came the loss of light, and air,And then of darkness too:'
'First came the loss of light, and air,
And then of darkness too:'
in other words, I, Said Mohammed, failed B.A. of Calcutta University, am consigned to ignominious horizontal extension on floor of beastly hovel. I suffer in silence,
'Nor call the gods with vulgar spiteTo vindicate my hapless right.'
'Nor call the gods with vulgar spiteTo vindicate my hapless right.'
'Nor call the gods with vulgar spite
To vindicate my hapless right.'
--Allow me to offer you another fritter, sir."
"Thanks. What next? Fire away!"
"After horrid night, sir, over which I draw veil of decency, I am transported into light of day. Hail, smiling morn! I purchase freedom by generous offer to teach fair sex a thing or two. Casting pearls before swine, sir; pains thrown away. But I earn my salt, and the rest is blank page, clean slate, until I hear the tramp of armed men, and behold, the grand finale!"
"I am glad things have ended so well," said John. "And I must say, khansaman, it was very handsome and plucky of you to undertake a search for me."
The Bengali bowed deprecatingly; then he said--
"But alas! sir, the web of our life is mingled yarn, both good and evil together, as says sweet swan of Avon. There is fly in ointment; gilt is off ginger-bread. Coja, very good chap, has left sublunary sphere. 'He will awake no more, oh, never more!' to quote the words of Percy Bysshe Shelley, also failed B.A. We ne'er shall look upon his like again. Who would not weep for---- By gum! This knocks me silly all of a heap! There he is!"
"Yes," said John, laughing, "and you can exchange notes while I take a look round."