Samba Part 41

In the afternoon a negro bearing a white flag was seen approaching the fort from the south. He evidently expected to be admitted by the hole in the wall. But at Jack's bidding Lianza of the brazen throat called to him to come round to the gate on the north; it was well to observe due order and ceremony.

The man brought a note signed "Van Vorst," demanding the instant surrender of the fort. In reply Jack wrote asking for the a.s.surance that his people, having acted throughout in self defence against the illegalities of the Societe Cosmopolite, should be guaranteed liberty to depart, and immunity except against the regular legal process of the courts. In half an hour the messenger returned with a curt summons to unconditional surrender. Jack sent back a polite refusal, feeling that he had now burnt his boats.

Shortly afterwards he saw a party of three white men and about twenty State soldiers, all armed with rifles, making a tour round the position, keeping carefully under cover. Through his field-gla.s.s Jack recognized Elbel, one of his subordinates, and one of the officers he had seen on the steamer. Elbel pointed this way and that with outstretched hand, and appeared to be talking with some excitement.

Occasionally they came within easy range of the fort, and Barney begged Jack to let the men fire upon them; but Jack resolutely stuck to his determination to refrain from provocation.

The party by and by reached a position above the fort, near the spot whence the abortive barrel-rolling had been started. From this place a small area of the fort enclosure was open to the view of the enemy.

All at once Jack saw the strange officer take a rifle from one of the soldiers and raise it to his shoulder. Jack instantly ordered his men, who were crowding the wall, to drop down out of sight. The officer fired: there was a moment's silence; then Jack heard a great yell of rage from the men behind him. Turning, he saw an old woman lying huddled in the centre of the enclosure. Two calabashes lay near; she had been crossing the exposed portion of the area to fetch water from the tank when Van Vorst's bullet struck her. A shout of delight from the negro soldiers up the hill acclaimed the successful shot of their officer; the old woman was quite dead.

Jack went hot with rage. And Mr. Arlington, who had witnessed the officer's action, was stirred out of his usual philosophic calm.

"That is not an act of warfare, Mr. Challoner, but of sheer savagery--the act of a callous marksman showing off. It invites reprisal."

"You see how the State treats its subjects, Mr. Arlington. They have taken cover; it's too late to fire now. But it settles the matter for me. The State has fired the first shot and killed a non-combatant. I shall do my best this very night to deal the enemy a staggering blow."

CHAPTER XXIX

Reaping the Whirlwind

During the inaction of the past two days Jack had been carefully thinking out his plan. Stout-hearted as he was, he felt oppressed by the difficulties of his position. He had now four hundred men in all; scarcely a hundred of them were armed with rifles, and not more than fifty were practised shots. How could he hope to dislodge from a stockaded camp more than seven hundred, of whom some two hundred and fifty, including Van Vorst's advance guard, were riflemen? It seemed at the best a desperate hazard, but the alternative was worse, and having resolved upon his course he rejected all half measures. Some few of his own men must be left in the fort, if only to prevent a panic; but those must be the minimum--he would need every man he could muster. He was staking all on the cast of a die; it would never do to risk failure by timorousness in using all his effective combatant strength. He would throw his whole available force against the enemy in one supreme effort to break and scatter him.

The offensive, he knew, counted for much, especially with men who had not known defeat. Where he and Barney led he felt sure they would follow. But a check might be fatal. A single well-directed volley from the enemy might sweep his little company of riflemen away, and his spearmen would then never get to close quarters.

He gave full weight to all these considerations. But having decided that the attempt must be made he devoted long hours of anxious thought to the devising of a plan that would give best promise of success. He had to do his thinking alone. Barney was a fighter, not a strategist.

He could be trusted to strike hard and carry out orders to the minutest detail; he could not plan or organize. Mr. Arlington and the missionary of course must not be consulted. So that when Barney was called into Jack's hut that afternoon, it was to learn particulars of a scheme worked out by Jack alone. When he left it an hour or two later, his eyes were glowing with a new light.

"Sure 'tis me chance that has come at last!" he said to himself.

It was two o'clock in the morning. Ilombekabasi was astir. Men and boys were moving this way and that. The night was dark, but by the light of the small lamps kept burning before a few of the princ.i.p.al huts it could be seen that every face was tense with excitement and a subdued energy. In one spot congregated the maimed people, armed with such weapons as they could wield, for the news that a great movement was intended had spread in the camp, and every man and many of the girls and women had begged to be allowed to bear arms. Near the south-eastern blockhouse the bulk of the able-bodied men and boys were squatting, rifles and spears lying beside them. At the gate in the north wall stood twenty-five men, the picked men of the corps, the men whom Lokolobolo had twice led out to victory. There was Lepoko, all smiles and consequence. There was Makoko, hugging his rifle as though he loved it. There was Lianza of the brazen throat, and Lingombela the man of hard bargains, and Imbono, the prudent chief of Ilola, and Mboyo, solemn and silent, thinking of Samba. On the ground lay a number of bundles and bales, large and small.

A group approached the gate from Lokolobolo's hut. Lokolobolo himself, and Barnio, as the natives called him, came first, walking slowly side by side. Behind came Mr. Arlington, his strong features fixed impa.s.sively. At his side was the litter of Mr. Dathan, borne by four negroes.

"Is it quite clear?" said Jack to Barney. "You have twenty good men here, besides another twenty of the maimed who may be of use in an emergency. Batukuno will be left in command. All the rest will go with you; yes, let the boys go; they can use their knives even if they cannot throw a spear. Get them all paraded an hour before dark, ladder men first. Keep them as quiet as you can. Wait till you hear shots in the enemy's camp; that will be the signal. Then send your men out, over the stockade by the south-eastern blockhouse; they can scramble down the slope there. You had better take half of them first and form them up at the bottom. The rest can follow as soon as they see you move off. Lead them at the double straight down the hill and fling them at the stockade. The second party will be just in time to support you if the first rush is checked. But there must be no check; we daren't admit the possibility. This is your job, Barney."

"Amen, sorr. For the honour uv ould Ireland and the sake uv these poor n.i.g.g.e.rs I'll do me very best."

"I know you will, old fellow."

They grip hands, looking into each other's eyes. This may be their last good-bye. One long hand-clasp, one moment of tense emotion, then, clearing his throat, Jack gives an order to his men. They stoop to their bundles, then file quietly out of the gate. Each man has a package to carry, such a package as forms part of every white man's baggage in Africa: one a trunk, another a gun-case, a third a canvas bag, others bales of various kinds. Two strong negroes at the end of the line bear, slung on ropes, a package, strangely shapeless, and to all appearance particularly heavy.

The last has gone out into the darkness. Then Jack turns once more.

"Good-bye, Mr. Arlington."

"Good-bye! Success to you."

"Good-bye, Mr. Dathan."

"G.o.d help you, my dear lad," says the missionary.

Then Jack too leaves Ilombekabasi, and the darkness swallows him up.

Towards dusk on the following evening, a party of twenty-five carriers were marching through the forest in the direction of Elbel's stockaded camp. In the midst were four men carrying a litter. They followed the path leading from the river--the path along which Captain Van Vorst had come a few days earlier. For some time they had been shadowed by a negro bearing the arms of a forest guard. They paused for a few moments to rest, and the negro, apparently satisfied by his observations, came up and accosted them.

"You are the servants of Mutela?"

"Yes, that is so. Has Mutela arrived?"

Mutela was the native name for Van Vorst.

"Oh yes! He came two or three days ago."

"Are we on the right road?"

"Certainly. The camp is but a little way beyond us. I will lead you to it. You have heavy loads."

"Ah! Mutela is a man of riches. He has many pots, and many bottles, and very many coats for his back. And guns too; see, here is his elephant rifle. Mutela is a great hunter; a great man of war."

"True, he is a great man of war. Yesterday he killed a woman in the fort of the Inglesa. I saw it. I laughed; we all laughed; it was so funny! But who is in the litter?"

"A white officer. Oh yes! He is as great a man of war as Mutela. But he is sick; white men so easily turn sick! And he sleeps, although it is a rough road."

"Aha! It is a pity he is sick. Mutela will be sorry. Mutela is going to kill all the men in the Inglesa's fort. Lokolobolo they call him.

Aha! we shall see how strong he is! See, there is the camp yonder through the trees."

When the party were still within some yards of the gate, the scout gave a hail. It was answered by a negro whose face appeared just above the stockade. By the time the leading men reached the gate it had been thrown open by one of Elbel's European subordinates, and a crowd of negro soldiers and hangers-on was collected to witness the entrance of the white officer and Mutela's baggage.

Lepoko, who had led the file, deposited his bundle just inside the gate and burst into a roar of laughter, holding his sides and bending his body in uncontrollable mirth. He was soon surrounded by a crowd of negroes, to whom he began to relate a very funny story; how Ekokoli, the daring Ekokoli, had mounted a crocodile's back just below the rapids, and had a splendid ride. The comical story set the throng laughing in chorus, and they begged to hear it again. Meanwhile, the rest of the carriers had filed in with their burdens, the litter had been set down, and the white officer, though so sick, stepped out quite briskly to greet the Belgian, whose attention was divided between the laughing negroes and his guest. At the same time the four bearers drew out from the litter a rifle apiece--for a sick man rifles surely made an uncomfortable couch!--and also half a dozen objects which to a man of Ilombekabasi would have looked suspiciously like fire-b.a.l.l.s. From the packages which lay near the gate each of the other carriers with a single pull abstracted a Mauser or an Albini; while the two men who had staggered along at the end of the line under the weight of a clumsy heavy bundle dropped it in the gateway with a thud that suggested the fall of a rock rather than a carrier's ordinary load. It lay against the gate, preventing it from being closed.

Lepoko was already telling his story for the second time. Elbel's officer, about to speak to the sick white man, who had just stepped out of the litter, suddenly hesitated, wheeled round, and with a loud cry of alarm rushed toward the centre of the camp, where, in a large tent, Elbel was at that moment regaling Captain Van Vorst with a dinner that did much credit to his native cook. His cry pa.s.sed unnoticed by the delighted negroes whom Lepoko was so humorously entertaining. But next moment they choked their guffaws, and, without waiting for the end of the story, scampered with more speed than grace after their white officer towards Elobela's tent. What had startled them? The sick man from the litter, after one hasty glance round, had suddenly fired into the air the rifle he bore. And the carriers who seemed so tired and so glad to lay down their burdens had all at once sprung into feverish activity. Dividing into two parties they had disappeared behind the huts nearest to the stockade on each side of the gateway, and if the hubbub had not been so great, an attentive listener might have heard sundry scratches that ensued upon their disappearance. But there was no one to hear. The garrison of the camp were rushing still towards the centre with loud cries; the carriers and the sick officer were no longer to be seen; and what was this? Clouds of smoke, thick, acrid, suffocating, were floating on the south wind from the huts towards Elobela's tent.

And now the camp was in an uproar. Mingled with the yells of alarm were distinct cries, "Mutela!" "Elobela!" "Lokolobolo!" And amid all the din came ever and anon the sharp piercing bark of a dog.

Monsieur Guillaume Elbel, of the Societe Cosmopolite du Commerce du Congo, had just opened a second bottle of Madeira for the delectation of his guest Captain Van Vorst, of the Congo State Forces. The dinner had been a good one; the Captain had praised his cook, the best cook on the Congo; and Monsieur Elbel was in better humour than he had been since the arrival of the State troops. He was even pleasantly boasting of the coming triumph at Ilombekabasi, and discussing what they should do with the Englishman after they had caught him, when sounds from outside so startled him that he poured the wine on to the tablecloth instead of into the gla.s.s, and interrupted himself with the sudden exclamation--

"What's that?"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up a rifle and hurried out, followed more slowly by his companion, who had seen too many camp quarrels to be greatly alarmed by this sudden outbreak. Elbel at first could distinguish nothing in the confusion. The short dusk of a tropical evening was already becoming darkness, but he could see that crowds of men were pouring out of the huts, rushing, hustling, in a state that was very like panic. And a pungent smoke saluted his nostrils; it was drifting in great whorls northwards over the camp, and surely behind it he saw here and there little red flashes of flame.

Who had fired that shot which had so shaken Monsieur Elbel's hand? He did not know; it had been a single shot; surely the camp could not be attacked, for other shots would have followed long before this. But the moment he appeared outside the tent a volley rang out, and Elbel saw that it was fired by his own men into the midst of the smoke. He was hurrying across the camp to inquire into the meaning of all this when a volley flashed from the other direction--from the very heart of the smoke. Shrieks proclaimed that some of the shots had told.

"Fools!" cried Elbel, "don't you see they're screened by the smoke, whoever they are? What's the good of firing when you can't take aim?

Curse that dog! I can't hear myself speak!"

Another volley flashed from the smoke. Men were dropping on every side; there were wild rushes for cover. Soon the central s.p.a.ce was deserted, and the panic-stricken garrison fled for shelter behind the huts on the north side of the camp. While Elbel and Van Vorst were shouting themselves hoa.r.s.e in a vain attempt to stem this tide of flight, the sergeant who had opened the gate had rushed to the north side, where Van Vorst's contingent were quartered, and hastily got them into some sort of order, together with those of Elbel's men who, having their huts on that side, has been less affected by the sudden alarm.

Dividing the company of about a hundred men into two parties, he sent them skirmishing forward in the s.p.a.ces between the huts towards the enemy he supposed to be approaching on the east and west.