Cupid in Africa Part 27

"Oah, he will be all right," was the reply.

"I've got three fresh limes I pinched from that _shamba_," {173} said Augustus. "If he had those with a quart of boiling water and half a tin of condensed milk, he might be able to do a good sweat and browse a handful of quinine."

"No more condensed milk," said Berners. "Greene had the last tin last night, and the hog didn't bring any with him."

"I shall be delighted to contribute the remainder of it," said Bertram, looking into his tin. "There's quite three-quarters of it left."

"Good egg," applauded Augustus. "If you drink your tea from the tin, you'll get the flavour of milk for ever so long," and Ali having been despatched to the cook-house for a kettle of boiling water, Augustus fetched his limes and the two concocted the brew with their condensed milk and lime-juice in an empty rum-jar.

"What about a spot of whisky in it?" suggested Vereker.

"Better without it when fever is violent," opined the medical attendant, and Augustus, albeit doubtfully, accepted the _obiter dicta_, as from one who should know.

"Shall I shove it into him through the oil-funnel if he is woozy?" he asked, and added: "Better not, p'r'aps. Might waste half of it down his lungs and things . . ." and he departed, in search of his victim.

As Bertram left the _boma_ in company of the Major, he found it difficult to realise that, only a few hours earlier he had not set eyes on the place. He seemed to have been immured within its walls of mud and wattle for days, rather than hours.

About the large clearing that lay on that side of the fort, Sepoys, servants, porters and _askaris_ came and went upon their occasions; the stretcher-bearers, gun-teams, and a company of Gurkhas were at drill; and in the trenches, the long, weedy bodies of the Kavirondo rose and fell as they dug in the mud and clay. Near the gate a doleful company of sick and sorry porters squatted and watched a dresser of the Indian Subordinate Medical Department, as he sprinkled iodoform from a pepperbox on to the hideous sores and wounds of a separate squad requiring such treatment. The sight of an intensely black back, with a huge wound of a glowing red, upon which fell a rain of brilliant yellow iodoform, held Bertram's spell-bound gaze, while it made him feel exceedingly sick.

Those patients suffering from ghastly sores and horrible festering wounds seemed gay and lighthearted and utterly indifferent, while the remainder, suffering from _tumbo_, {174} fever, cold in the head, or world-weariness, appeared to consider themselves at the last gasp, and each, like the Dying Gladiator, did lean his head upon his hand while his manly brow consented to Death, but conquered agony.

"The reason why the African will regard a gaping wound, or great festering sore, with no more than mild interest, while he will wilt away and proceed to perish if he has a stomach-ache is an interestin'

exemplification of _omne ignotum pro magnifico_," remarked the Major.

Bertram stared at his superior officer in amazement. The tone and language were utterly different from those hitherto connected, in Bertram's experience, with that gentleman. Was this a subtle mockery of Bertram as a civilian Intellectual? Or was it that the Major liked to be "all things to all men" and considered this the style of conversation likely to be suitable to the occasion?

"Yes, sir?" said Bertram, a trifle shortly.

"Yes," continued Major Mallery. "He believes that all internal complaints are due to Devils. A stomach-ache is, to him, painful and irrefragible proof that he hath a Devil. One has entered into him and abideth. It's no good telling him anything to the contrary-because he can _feel_ It there, and surely he's the best judge of what he can feel?

So any internal complaint terrifies him to such an extent that he dies of fright-whereas he'll think nothing of a wound that would kill you or me.

Here, apparently, the Major's mocking fancy tired, or else his effort to talk "high-brow" to an Intellectual could be no further sustained, for he fell to lower levels with the remark:

"Rum blokes. . . Dam' funny. . ." and fell silent.

A well-trodden mud path led down to the river, on the far side of which was the water-picket commanding the approach, not to a ford, but to the only spot where impenetrable jungle did not prevent access to the river.

"Blighters nearly copped us badly down here before we built the fort,"

said the Major. "Look in here . . ." and he parted some bushes beside the path and disappeared. Following him, Bertram found himself in a long, narrow clearing cut out of the solid jungle and parallel with the path.

"They had a hundred men at least, in here," said Major Mallery, "and you might have come along the path a hundred times without spotting them.

There was a machine-gun up that tree, to deal with the force behind the point of ambush, and a big staked pit farther down the path to catch those in front who ran straight on. . . . Lovely trap. . . . They used to occupy it from dawn to sunset every day, poor fellers. . . ."

"What happened?" asked Bertram.

"Our Intelligence Department learnt all about it from the local _shenzis_, and we forestalled them one merry morn. They were ambushed in their own ambush. . . . The _shenzi_ doesn't love his Uncle Fritz a bit.

No appreciation of _Kultur_-by-_kiboko_. He calls the Germans '_the Twenty-Five Lashes People_,' because the first thing the German does when he goes to a village is to give everybody twenty-five of the best, by way of introducing himself and starting with a proper understanding. Puts things on a proper footing from the beginning. . . ."

"Their _askaris_ are staunch enough, aren't they?" asked Bertram.

"Absolutely. They are well paid and well fed, and they are allowed to do absolutely as they like in the way of loot, rape, arson and murder, once the fighting is over. . . . They flog them most unmercifully for disciplinary offences-and the n.i.g.g.e.r understands that. Also they leave the defeated foe-his village, crops, property, women, children and wounded-to their mercy-and the n.i.g.g.e.r understands _that_ too. . . . Our _askaris_ are not nearly so contented with our milder punishments, c.u.mbrous judicial system, and absolute prohibition of loot, rape, arson and the murder of the wounded. Yes-the German _askari_ will stick to the German so long as he gets the conqueror's rights whenever he conquers-as is the immemorial law and custom of Africa. . . . 'What's the good of fighting a cove if you're going to cosset and coddle him directly you've won, and give him something out of the poor-box-instead of dismembering him?' says he. . . . You might say the _askari_-cla.s.s is to the Native what the Junker-cla.s.s is to the peasant, in Germany."

And conversing thus, the two officers visited the pickets and the sentries, who sat on _machans_ in the tops of high trees and, in theory at any rate, scoured the adjacent country with tireless all-seeing eye.

Returning to the fort, Bertram saw the materials for his own private freehold residence being carried to the eligible site selected for its erection by the united wisdom of the Station Staff Officer and the Quartermaster. It was built and furnished in less than an hour by a party of Kavirondo, who used no other tools than their _pangas_, and it consisted of a framework of stout saplings firmly planted in the ground, wattle, and thatched leaves, twigs and gra.s.s. It had a window-frame and a doorway, and it kept out the sun and the first few drops of a shower of rain. If a _banda_ does little else, it provides one's own peculiar place apart, where one can be private and alone. . . . On the table and shelf-of sticks bound together with strips of bark-Ali set forth his master's impedimenta, and took a pride in the Home. . . .

Finding that the spine-pad of quilted red flannel-which Murray had advised him to get and to wear b.u.t.toned on to the inner side of his shirt, as a protection against the sun's actinic rays-was soaked with perspiration, Bertram gave it to Ali that it might be dried. What he did not foresee was that his faithful retainer would tie a long strip of bark from the new _banda_ to the opposite one across the "street," and pin the red flannel article to flap in the breeze and the face of the pa.s.ser-by.

"Oh, I say, you fellers, look here!" sang out the voice of Gussie Augustus Gus, as Bertram was finishing his shave, a few minutes later.

"Here's that careless fellow, Greene, been and left his chest-protector off! . . . It's on the line to air, and I _don't_ know what he's doing without it." The voice broke with anguish and trouble as it continued: "Perhaps running about with nothing on at all. . . . On his chest, I mean. . . ."

There was a laugh from neighbouring _bandas_ and tents where Vereker, Berners, Halke and "Leesey" Lindsay were washing by their cottage doors, preparatory to breakfast.

Bertram blushed hotly in the privacy of his hut. _Chest-protector_!

Confound the fellow's impudence-and those giggling' idiots. He had half a mind to put his head out and remark; "The laughter of fools is as the crackling of thorns beneath a pot," and in the same moment wiser counsels prevailed.

Thrusting a soapy face out of the window, he said, in a tone expressive more of sorrow than of anger:

"I am surprised at _you_, Clarence! . . . To laugh at the infirmities of your elders! . . . Is it _my_ fault I have housemaid's knee?"

To which Augustus, with tears in his eyes and voice, replied:

"Forgive me, Pappa. I have known trouble too. _I_ had an Aunt with a corn. . . . _She_ wore one. . . . Pink, like yours. . . . Poignant. . . .

Searching. . . ."

This cheerful and indefatigable young gentleman had, in his role of Mess President, found time, after parade and kit-inspection that morning, to prepare a breakfast _menu_. Consulting it, Bertram discovered promise of

1. _Good Works_. Taken out of some animal, or animals, unknown.

Perhaps Liver. Perhaps not. Looks rather poignant.

2. _Shepherd's Bush_ (or is it Plaid or Pie?) or Toed-in-the-Hole.

Same as above, bedded down in manioc. Looks very poignant.

3. There were _Sausages on Toast_, but they are in bad odour, uppish, and peevish to the eye, and there is no bread.

4. _Curried Bully-beef_. G.o.d help us. And Dog-biscuit.

5. _Arm of monkey_. No 'arm in that? _But_-One rupee reward is offered for a missing Kavirondo baby. Answers to the name of Horatio, and cries if bitten in the stomach. . . . Searching.

"Great news," quoth the author of this doc.u.ment, seating himself on the bed-frame beside Bertram and eyeing a plate of Good Works without enthusiasm. "There's to be a General Court-Martial after breakfast. You and I and Berners. Leesey Lindsay is prosecuting a bloke for spying and acting as guide to German raiding parties-him bein' a British subjick an'

all. . . Splendid! . . . Shall we hang him or shoot him? . . ."

"_I_ am Provost-Marshal," put in Vereker, "and _I_ shall hang him. I know exactly how to hang, and am a recognised good hanger. Anyhow, no one has complained. . . . Wish we had some b.u.t.ter. . . ."

"Whaffor?" asked Augustus.

"Grease the rope," was the reply. "They like it. b.u.t.ter is awfully good."