Samba Part 18

The fact that several days pa.s.sed without any sign of resentment or vengeance on Elbel's part did not make Jack less uneasy. So far from his trouncing having a deterrent effect, the treatment of the natives became steadily worse. Things were following the inevitable course.

The vines in the neighbourhood of the village had yielded all the rubber of which they were at present capable, and the men had to go continually further afield. This necessitated their remaining for days at a time away from their homes, in improvised shelters which afforded poor protection against the weather and the wild beasts. They had to put up with indifferent food that gave scanty nourishment. When, having collected the rubber, they returned at last to their homes, they could only remain there a couple of days, for the next demand was upon them. Meanwhile their families had been at the mercy of the forest guards. Day by day complaints came to Jack from Imbono of the brutalities of these ruffians, some of them so horrible that his whole being quivered with pa.s.sionate indignation. Why did not his uncle return? How long must he remain helpless here, unable to lift a hand in defence of the oppressed?

One evening, just as he had retired to rest, he was woke by Barney and told that a strange negro had come to the gate and asked admittance.

He had specially desired to see the Inglesa. Jack sent word that the man was to be brought to him, and awaited his coming outside the hut.

The negro came up in charge of Lepoko. By the light of his electric torch Jack saw a tall man, so much emaciated that he appeared almost a skeleton. His cheeks were sunken in, his arms and legs were no thicker than a child's, and--what was this! The man held up one arm; the hand was gone!

"Who is he?" asked Jack, shuddering at the sight of the half-healed stump.

"Him call Batukuno, sah. Come from Nsongo. Him carry baumba[2] to brudder, sah: Ekila, him forest guard, meet Batukuno, say, 'Gib me baumba.' Batukuno say, 'No can do: me carry to brudder.' Rubber day come. Batukuno bring basket; Ekila say, 'Rubber too much bad, Batukuno.' Batukuno say, 'No bad at all; good rubber all same.' Ekila laugh, sah; cut off Batukuno him hand."

"Just in revenge for not getting the baumba?"

"Rebenge, sah, rebenge, all same."

"But how came he here?"

"Boy Samba, sah. Him tell Batukuno Inglesa ma.s.sa good white man, brudder Ta.n.a.lay, oh yes! Inglesa no 'fraid Boloko, no 'fraid Elobela; Inglesa gib Batukuno hut, gib food, gib plenty rings. Him come long long way: hurt berrah much, sah, berrah sick; want eat, no can find nuff. Him hide long time 'cos 'fraid Boloko. Now hab got ma.s.sa; no 'fraid no more; Boloko, Elobela, dem 'fraid now."

"Where is Samba then?"

"Samba him long long way: him go find fader and mudder."

"I was right after all," said Jack turning to Barney. "I'm glad to hear the boy's alive. Well, Lepoko, take Batukuno to one of the huts and give him some supper. Another sign of King Leopold's fatherly treatment, Barney! Uncle said they cut the hands from the dead, but it appears that the living are mutilated too."

"The curse uv Cromwell on them, sorr. But, begging your pardon, you made a mistake."

"How's that?"

"Sure you said 'twas my Irish English that sent little Samba away."

"Did I?" said Jack, laughing. "I'd forgotten it. He's a capital little fellow, Barney. Fancy, going by himself that long journey through the forest to find his people! And yet there are fools who think that because a man is black he hasn't feelings or affections like ourselves."

Batukuno was only the firstfruits of Samba's missionary zeal. From day to day, men, women, and children began to drop in at Jack's camp, many of them mutilated, all showing terrible signs of ill-usage and privation. Some were survivors of Samba's own people, the villagers of Banonga; but they numbered among them men from other tribes. Some had heard of the benevolent Inglesa from Samba's own lips; others from people he had told. Among them was an old chief, who appeared heart-broken at having been compelled to leave his country.

"Why did I leave, you ask, O white man!" he said in reply to a question of Jack's. "In the morning, bullets; in the evening, bullets. They shot our mouths away, they shot through our hearts and our sides. They robbed us of everything we had. Why should we stay to be killed like that? That is why I ran away."

"Were many of your people killed?"

"Ah, ah!" he replied, "once we were as bafumba[3] in mult.i.tude; now we are only as these."

He spread out his fingers twice or thrice.

"And they have been killed--not dying by the sleeping sickness?"

"No. We have lost a few by the sleeping sickness, but only a few. It is rubber that has killed our people. Botofe bo le iwa!"

Jack's sympathy was keenly enlisted on behalf of these unfortunate people; and he looked forward more and more eagerly for Mr.

Martindale's return. He could not but smile a little whimsically, remembering his uncle's protestations, to find that Mr. Martindale was gaining a reputation for general philanthropy through a large section of the Upper Congo territory. But as the stream of fugitives showed no signs of diminishing he began to feel a certain embarra.s.sment. It was all very well to open a cave Adullam for every one that was distressed: to start a hospital for the halt and lame and blind; but the s.p.a.ce he had at command within his stockade was limited: already the huts he had reserved for Mr. Martindale and his men were occupied, and every fugitive meant another mouth to feed. He feared, too, lest the peace and order of his settlement should be disturbed by the influx of so many idle strangers. And more than all, he feared that some of the poor wretches who came seeking asylum with him would fall into the hands of Elbel ere they reached their desired haven. It was that consideration that induced him to refuse none who sought admittance.

Elbel had been absent for some days from Ilola, and the fugitives, by choosing always the fall of night to approach the place, had so far managed to elude observation by their enemies. But that could not continue; the presence of strangers in Ilombikambua must soon become known to Elbel; then a watch would be set, and the wanderers would be intercepted. What their fate then would be Jack knew too well. None suffered so terribly at the hands of the forest guards as people caught straying from their villages. Such absences interfered with the regularity of the rubber supply, which in turn affected the revenue and reduced profits. No runagate serf in mediaeval Europe was more severely dealt with than the Congo native who dared to range afield.

Jack could not hand the people over to Elbel's tender mercies; yet it would soon be impossible to find room for more. While he was puzzling how to deal with this perplexing situation it was suddenly made still more complicated. Early one morning he heard Pat barking with more than his usual vigour, and with a note of wild pleasure which he had not expressed for many a day. Leaving his hut to ask what had happened, he was met by the terrier, who ran up to him, leaped this way and that, darted off towards the gate, then back again, all the time barking with frantic joy. In a moment Jack saw the meaning of the dog's excitement. Samba himself was running towards him!

The boy flung himself down at Jack's feet, paying no attention even to Pat.

"I am glad to see you, very glad," said Jack in Samba's own tongue.

"What have you been doing?"

His knowledge of the language was not great enough to permit him to follow Samba's answer, poured out as it was with great rapidity, and a pitiful earnestness that brought a lump to Jack's throat. But Lepoko was at hand, and translated faithfully.

Samba was in terrible distress. He had found his father and mother, and had brought them through peril and privation to the very verge of safety, when they fell among a number of forest guards evidently placed to intercept fugitives. All three were captured and taken to Boloko, who was beside himself with delight at the sight of his brother Mboyo a prisoner. He had a special grudge against him, dating from their old rivalry in Banonga. Elbel had just returned from a visit to outlying villages; the prisoners had been carried before him, and when Boloko explained who they were, the Belgian ordered them to be tied up, and sentenced them to be thrashed publicly on the next day. Samba had contrived to escape from custody, and had now come to implore the Inglesa to save his parents. They were so worn out by their long journey, so ill from the hardships they had suffered, that they would certainly die under the whip.

"Poor little fellow!" said Jack, laying his hand soothingly on the boy's head. "The whipping is to be to-morrow? You are sure?"

Yes; Elobela would be absent this day; he would not return till the evening. The flogging was fixed for dawn on the following morning.

"Come into my hut; we will see what can be done. Barney, you come too."

"n.i.g.g.e.rs have no feelings!" said Barney, releasing Pat from the grasp in which he had been struggling while Samba told his story. "Begorra!

they might as well say the same uv dogs!"

[1] Any kind of letter or doc.u.ment.

[2] Riches.

[3] Driver ants.

CHAPTER XIII

"Honour thy Father and thy Mother"

Jack felt himself in a distressing predicament. Could he allow Samba's father and mother, for whom he suspected the boy must have made heroic exertions, to undergo a punishment which, as he had learnt from more than one of the refugees, frequently ended in the death of the victim?

Yet how prevent it? Whatever might be urged against it, the use of the chicotte had become established as a recognized instrument of administration in the Congo Free State. As a stranger and a foreigner he had, to begin with, no right to interfere, and his previous relations with Elbel had been such that a protest and an attempt at dissuasion would be equally useless. His action on behalf of Lofundo's son had been taken on the spur of the moment; it would not dispose Elbel to pay any attention to calmer and more deliberate measures now.

Even a threat to report him would probably have no effect on the Belgian. He was only doing what the officers of the State, or the officials of the Trusts holding authority from the State, were accustomed to do, whether by themselves or their agents. A protest from Jack would merely aggravate the punishment of the wretched people.

Although Elbel had not taken any open step against Jack since their last meeting, the latter felt a.s.sured that he was nursing his spite and only awaiting a favourable opportunity to indulge it. Indeed it was likely that something had already been done. Perhaps Elbel was in communication with Boma. He had mentioned that a captain of the State forces was on his way up the river; for all that Jack knew the officer might deal very summarily with him when he arrived. That Elbel would tamely endure the humiliation he had suffered Jack did not for a moment believe.

Jack put these points to Barney.

"If I attempt to do anything for Samba's people," he added, "I must be prepared to back up my demands by force, and that will mean bloodshed.

I can't run the risk, Barney. Uncle left me in charge, and, as I've told you, said I wasn't to fight except in self-defence."

"Bedad, sorr, but he'd fight himself if he were here."