Settlers and Scouts Part 23

Ferrier leant over, grasped him, and hauled him by main force into the canoe. Then the four st.u.r.dy natives dug their paddles into the water.

The enemy had reached the brink; some were already on the causeway; but at this moment four rifles flashed from the fort, and a man toppled off the causeway into the pool. The others halted. The canoe sped on; a bullet splashed in its wake; more arrows fell perilously near; but just as the enemy had gained courage to rush over the causeway again, Ferrier steered the canoe away from that side and guided it round to the lower end of the island where landing was easier. The canoe sc.r.a.ped the sh.o.r.e: its occupants sprang to land: and with Ferrier's aid the negroes carried John up to the wall, where willing hands hoisted him over.

"A near shave, old chap," said Ferrier. "You look awfully done up."

"Pretty nearly crocked," said John, with a feeble smile. "Are those beggars attacking?"

"No," replied Ferrier, looking over the wall. "They've gone back. It's not light enough yet."

"Thank goodness! I'm no good at present; I'm----"

"Don't you worry," interrupted Ferrier, seeing his lips quivering. "Just lie easy for a bit: I'll bring you something to eat."

John closed his eyes and shivered in his drenched clothes. Ferrier got two of the men to carry him to the fire, and in a few moments gave him a mug of soup.

"You'll feel better after that: hippo soup, my boy."

"They got back safely then?"

"Of course they did, an hour after sundown. They hid in the woods yonder until the coast was clear. I gave them a good ragging for leaving you."

"That wasn't fair; we left them."

"So they said. You may imagine what a funk I was in when they came back without you. I didn't sleep a wink all night."

"Poor old chap! We went after congoni when they were cutting up the hippo, and were rushed as neatly as possible, and carried off to the village of Bill's 'bad men' in the hills. Our captors were evidently an emba.s.sy from Juma to enlist the chief's a.s.sistance. Three or four hundred warriors in full fig left yesterday morning: have you seen anything of them?"

"Not yet. We heard a great hullabaloo in Juma's camp last night, and I guessed the lot you signalled about had come in. I was glad you signalled; it was a relief to know you were alive. I wished I could come up and rescue you, and I'd have had a shot at it if you hadn't told me the war-party were coming. Of course that dished it. I couldn't have got through, and I'm afraid our fellows wouldn't have held out long if I'd left them."

"Of course not. It would have been simply mad to try it."

"All the same, it was pretty rotten having to stop here able to do nothing. I chafed a good deal, I can tell you. When I got your message, as the enemy were very quiet I sent Coja and one of my askaris out to see if they could spy out where you were; and what do you think--Said Mohammed insisted on going too."

"Well, I'm hanged!"

"He said it was quite impossible for him to pursue the even tenor of his way while you, his boss and patron, were in parlous circs. and durance vile. I'm beginning to think the Bengali has been libelled; go deep enough and you'll find a man. Anyway, he insisted on going, and I'm sorry to say none of the three has come back."

John groaned from utter weariness and disappointment.

"What a mess I've made of everything!" he said. "If ever we get safely out of this I'll not go rampaging after stolen rifles again. Look what I've brought on everybody!"

"Utter rot! n.o.body came against his will, and who could foresee all this? We've had amazing luck really, and as for getting safely out of it--but look here, old man, you mustn't shiver like that. I'm a fat-headed chump. Off with your clothes; they're sopping. We haven't got a change, but you won't shock any one's modesty. I'll rub you dry with some of Said's cloths; your things will dry in no time, and I'll try ma.s.sage for your sprain. You'll take a good stiff dose of quinine, too; we can't have an invalid on our hands."

John winced as he rose to strip. Ferrier got his clothes off, rubbed him vigorously with cloths ("Shout when I hurt," he said), then rolled him in a blanket and laid him down by the fire, "To sweat it out, you know."

"Just go and look after Bill," said John, feeling comfortably lazy.

"Bill's all right, bless your heart! He's got no clothes to dry, and he's tucking into roast hippo like one o'clock. It's the last of it, by the way. It bucked the men up wonderfully. I wish we had some more."

"How do we stand for food?" asked John anxiously.

"Never you mind about food. You shall have your dinner when the time comes. The best thing you can do is to go to sleep, and when you wake you can tell me how you managed to escape from the 'bad men.' Are they very bad, like the little girl who was horrid? No, you needn't answer; just shut your eyes while I count ten, and you'll sleep like a top."

Two hours later, the man on guard at the gate, one of Ferrier's askaris, reported that a number of men were marching across the plain towards the causeway. Ferrier went to the gate, and saw that the group consisted of two Swahilis and four of their followers. A great throng of black men stood at the edge of the wood, giving no sign of an intention to move.

"A deputation, I presume," thought Ferrier. "Coming to offer us terms!"

The men advanced along the causeway, the Swahilis first. When they had come half-way Ferrier told the askari at his side to order them to stop.

They came to a halt immediately.

"Ask 'em if one of them is Juma," said Ferrier.

No: one was Sadi ben Asmani, the other Jumbi ben Abdullah.

"Then you may tell Sadi ben Asmani and Jumbi ben Abdullah that I have nothing to say to them, and they had better be off, sharp."

When this was interpreted the Swahilis glowered. One of them began to speak, but Ferrier signed to him to be silent.

"Tell them I'll listen to the others, but won't hear a word from them."

The causeway being too narrow for two men to pa.s.s securely, the file faced about and retreated to the sh.o.r.e. Then they came on again, the negroes this time leading, and the Swahilis remaining at the end of the causeway. The first negro, a finely proportioned fellow whom it was a pleasure to look upon, began to address the white man, using his hands freely.

"What does he say?" asked Ferrier.

The askari did not know his dialect. From the crowd of men who had gathered at the wall one stepped forward saying that he knew it.

"Well, tell me what he says."

"Him say msungu come out: no lib for no more fight. Great big lot o'

black men: msungu no can run away."

"You can tell him that the msungu won't come out, and the black men had better run away. They have come to fight us, who never did them any harm. They have come to help a lot of thieves and murderers, who have stolen the goods of the black men round about. This fort is where they lived, and where they kept the goods they stole. The fort now belongs to the msungu. A great many wasungu are now coming from their fort far away to punish them, and when they come they will scatter them as the lion scatters sheep. Tell them we are quite happy; we aren't a bit afraid of them; we have beaten them twice, and we'll beat them again.

They had better take up their cook-pots and go home."

This little speech Ferrier delivered sentence by sentence, wondering how much of it was fairly translated. The deputation clearly gathered the gist of it, for with every sentence they became manifestly more incensed. At the close they shouted and waved their arms, and then the leader, with the air of one playing his trump card, cried out that the msungu's talk was fool's talk, for they held a sheep-faced msungu a prisoner in their village far away, and if their demand was not instantly complied with, the sheep-faced msungu would be killed.

"By Jove!" thought Ferrier, "they didn't recognize old John then. What a tremendous lark! I'll give them a shocker."

To the evident amazement of the natives he laughed heartily. Then, bidding them stand where they were until he came back to them, he returned into the fort.

"I say, John," he said, with a chuckle, shaking the sleeping form; "wake up, old chap. There's a deputation outside summoning us to surrender, and threatening if we don't to slaughter a sheep-faced msungu--sheep-faced, old chap!--whom they've got penned up in their village. Come and show yourself; I bet they'll look sheepish. It was evidently too dark to see you when you came down on your raft. Slip your things on: you don't look the same man in that blanket."

John laughed and slipped on his shirt and breeches, now thoroughly dry.

His sun-helmet, which had been fastened on by a strap, was rather pulpy, but Ferrier clapped it on his head, saying that it didn't matter. In a few seconds he had limped to the gate, and stood at Ferrier's side, smiling very amiably.

The natives were struck dumb with astonishment. The Swahilis could not have been more confounded if they had seen a ghost. After gazing for a full minute at the msungu whom they imagined to be in safe custody fifteen miles away, they turned round and marched back in silence, only breaking into excited talk when they reached the sh.o.r.e. The two white men stood watching them until they rejoined the vast throng gathered at the edge of the wood.

"They've got something to digest," said Ferrier, with a laugh. "Now we'll go and get some dinner."