Tom Burnaby Part 28

His first step was to build a fire on the slopes of the mountain, and place two men in charge of it, with instructions to pile on a plentiful supply of fuel. Then, dividing his men into squads of four, he made a series of excavations in various spots simultaneously, going from one to another to examine the earth that was dug up. Several times he thought he had discovered the object of his quest, and a number of basketfuls of earth were carried to the improvised furnace. There the ore was heaped into a pile and ignited from the top, in the hope that the heat above would melt any sulphur that might be contained in the lower part of the ma.s.s, and cause it to run down into the specially-prepared cavity at the bottom. This process was a wasteful one, but it had the merit of simplicity, and Tom knew that if only a sufficient quant.i.ty of sulphur-bearing earth could be obtained it would serve his purpose.

After several disappointments he at last came upon undoubted traces of sulphur from the combustion of a quant.i.ty of earth obtained very close to the crater. He wished to make another trial, but it was growing late, and his men implored him not to remain on the mountain after nightfall. His magic might suffice for the day, but nothing could preserve them from the wrath of Irungo if he found them within his gates during the hours of darkness. Their terror was so extreme that Tom reluctantly withdrew to the site of the previous night's camp; but at the first streak of daylight he roused his men, who were feeling the effects of their unaccustomed labours, and after breakfast led them back to the spot at which the only promising find of the previous day had been made. Removing nearly half a ton of earth, he made the experiment this time on a larger scale, and when the ma.s.s had burned for some two hours he was delighted to find a considerable quant.i.ty of crude sulphur in the little cavity beneath the pile. He had used up a large amount of wood in the process, for there was not sufficient sulphur in the ore materially to a.s.sist the process of combustion, but there was fortunately no lack of fuel within a few hundred yards of the place from which the ore was taken, and by nightfall Tom was in possession of some lumps of a dirty-brown substance which, when refined, might yield half their weight of pure sulphur. When darkness fell he piled up an unusually large heap of the ore, left a fire smouldering above it, and was rewarded in the morning with a correspondingly large quant.i.ty of crude sulphur in the receiver.

"This is glorious!" he said to Mbutu. "We have a good many pounds of stuff now; the next thing is to see if sufficiently pure sulphur can be refined from it to make powder. We can't do that here, at any rate; and besides, to-morrow is the day fixed for our grand palaver, so I think we must be content for the present with what we have, and come again if we find it successful. One thing is certain," his unspoken thought continued, "there's enough sulphur on this mountain to make powder for all the army corps in the world, and if only there were means of transit it might pay someone to lease it from the Congo Government. For all I know, in fact, I may be trespa.s.sing; but I fancy the authorities won't mind much if they hear about it and know what I am doing it for.--Well, my men, now for home. We have got what I wanted, and, as you see, haven't been molested by Irungo. You won't mind coming again, eh?"

They returned to the village with their load. A mile before they reached it, Mbutu all at once drew his master's attention to a fresh trail crossing their path from the east. There were the clear marks of men's feet, and also of small hoofs, which Mbutu declared were the hoof-marks of donkeys.

"It looks as though a caravan of some sort were making for our village,"

said Tom. "Surely it cannot be Arabs?"

"No, sah; white man, sah. Donkeys; must be white man. Oh yes!"

"You don't mean to imply any close relationship between white men and donkeys? You don't understand? Well, never mind. But I do hope that our affairs are not to be complicated by entirely unnecessary Europeans."

As he approached, he discerned unmistakeable signs of excitement in the village. Those of the people who were not engaged in their regular occupations were crowding towards the centre; and, looking over their heads from his higher position, Tom saw a smaller group, composed of the katikiro and some other of the princ.i.p.al men, gathered about a tall broad figure in white clothes and white topee, whose back at the moment was towards the gate by which Tom had entered. With him were several tall natives whose dress distinguished them as strangers, and at one point four well-laden donkeys were tethered, the object of great interest to all the urchins of the place.

"Hullo!" said Tom to himself, "this is very curious. There's decidedly a commercial look about that fellow, and I seem to know his back, too.

Who in the world can it be? Some trader, perhaps, I caught sight of casually at Mombasa or Kisumu, though I wonder what brings him to these remote parts. He's well armed; those rifles look uncommonly like Mausers. And there's a revolver in his belt. This is interesting."

Ordering his party to dispose of their loads and place the sulphur in the courtyard of his hut, he approached quietly, and entered the chattering crowd by a gap opened for him. In the centre of the crowd the stranger stood in a clear s.p.a.ce, two leather cases open on the ground in front of him.

"By Jove!" Tom said to himself, as he came within a yard of the stranger, who had not as yet perceived him, "I'm hanged if it isn't Schwab, gold spectacles and all! He's diligent in business, if ever a man was. Fancy trapesing out here with a caravan! Wonder what he's trying to gammon the katikiro into buying! I declare he's whipped out his note-book and is actually entering orders. I must look into this!"

Now at this time Kuboko presented a wholly different appearance from the Tom Burnaby of a few months before. His face and neck were scorched to a deep brick-red, save where they were covered with nearly five months'

growth of hair. His form had filled out somewhat after he recovered from his illness. His clothes were indescribable. On his head, to keep off the sun's rays, he wore a calico head-dress of his own invention.

He might have pa.s.sed for a particularly fine and rather less than usually solemn Arab, and altogether he was not far wrong in his belief that not one of his friends would at first sight have recognized him.

Consequently, when the respectful greetings of the katikiro and his friends at length apprised Herr Schwab that someone of importance had arrived, he turned and saw what he supposed to be a handsome young Arab, whose presence in a Bahima village was sufficiently surprising.

Tom could not resist the temptation to have a little fun. Having addressed a few authoritative words in their own tongue to the Bahima, he salaamed to the German, and stood as though awaiting an explanation.

Schwab meanwhile had been taking stock of the supposed Arab, and having been unable to come to any conclusion about him, he turned to the native follower who was acting as interpreter, and through him asked whom he had the honour of addressing. Tom signed to Mbutu, who at once explained that it was, indeed, a great honour, since Kuboko was the acting chief of the village, which contained some two thousand five hundred souls, the biggest village between Tanganyika and the Nile. The German at once expressed his high consideration for his friend Kuboko--he thought he might call him his friend?--and he would be most happy if he could do some business with him. Perhaps his friend Kuboko knew a little English, for if he did, their intercourse would, he thought, be much facilitated.

"Yes," said Tom slowly, "I do know English a little; it will be good to speak English; business are business."

"Fery goot, my friend," said the German. "I am fery glad. Now, I represent, vat you call stand for, ze great export house of Schlagintwert in Dusseldorf, and I can sell you anyzink--yes, anyzink at all, from Sheffield cutlery to Scotch visky. Yes, ve make in Dusseldorf a particularly goot brant of real old Scotch visky. Ve make also Birmingham screws, and Paisley sread; ve make c.u.mberland lead pencils and, vat you vill like ze best of all, Manchester soft goots--all made in Germany, my friend, and our terms are fipercentforcash. I say cash, but I mean to say, of course, ivory, or rubber, or anyzink else of vorth. Now, not often hafe I ze pleasure to meet a zhentleman vat speak English in zese parts, and I am fery glad, fery glad indeed. I hafe just booked ze goot black man for vun gross of pin-packetts, and I shall trust to take your essteemed orders for anyzink--anyzink vatefer, fipercentforcash, zanking you in an-ti-ci-pa-tion."

Tom could stand it no longer. Smothering a laugh, he clapped a hand on the astonished German's shoulder, and said:

"Pig-iron? What about pig-iron, Herr Schwab?"

"Ach! meine Gute!" exclaimed Schwab, his broad face one startled note of interrogation, "who ze----who zen are you?"

He mopped his face with a red handkerchief, still holding his pocket-book open in the other hand.

"Don't you remember Tom Burnaby, on board the _Peninsular_, and your kind offer of any number of tons of pig-iron?"

"Goot heafens!"

"And I saw you at Kisumu, don't you know."

"Oh, I do know! yes; I do know indeed; and you vent after your oncle--vat you call vild-goose hunt. But, but--pardon me, Mr. Burnaby, you hafe taken my brea.s.s avay quite. You are like a--vat you call gorilla, Mr. Burnaby."

"Just what I thought myself," rejoined Tom with a laugh. "I'm getting acclimatized! But I haven't quite forgotten civilized ways, and I'm uncommonly glad to see you. It's I don't know how long since I spoke to a European, and if you'll come along to my hut I'll give you some Ba.s.s's ale or Devonshire cider (brewed in Mwonga, as we call this village), and anything else you like to order--prime Scotch beef, you know, and Southdown mutton; or Frankfort _Bratwurst_, eh? and we can have a comfortable talk and clear up a few inexplicables. But, first of all, my dear Herr Schwab, I must ask you to cancel that order for pins. The katikiro has never seen a pin in his life, I fancy."

"Oh, but indeed he has! I hafe showed him a packett. He vas fery delighted. He gafe me order for vun gross, spot-price: fipercentforcash."

"And how many pins in a packet, may I ask?"

"Hundert, or, because my packetts are particularly fine, perhaps hundert ten."

"Ah! and a gross is twelve dozen, I believe, according to c.o.c.ker. Well now, that will make--let me see--fifteen thousand eight hundred and forty pins. Is that right?"

"No doubt at all; I could not do it so quick; but my house vill not be particular about vun score or two. Say sixteen tousand pins, Mr.

Burnaby, and all zat big lot for vun tusk of ivory!"

"And what do you think my katikiro will do with sixteen thousand pins?

You really are too funny, Herr Schwab. Look at the extent of his waist-cloth! No, I am very sorry, but I really must forbid the transaction. Between ourselves, Msala is a bit of a wag, and as likely as not he would make pin-cushions of all his dearest friends and get me into no end of hot water. No; cancel that order, and we'll see if we can do business in some other of your innumerable articles."

"Fery vell, Mr. Burnaby; now zat is a promise--vat you call vun deal, is it not? Fery vell. But I am amazed. I am indeed a.s.s-tounded, to find my young friend chief of a natife village. It is vonderful, it is incr-redible! I hafe not yet recofered from ze stroke. I vould indeed like some lager beer, lager beer from Munchen; it vould help me con-sid-er-ably to vat you call digest ze vonderful information."

"I can't promise you real lager from Munchen, or real Ba.s.s from Stuttgart," said Tom, laughing; "but you'll find our marwa very like cider, and we can supply plenty of that--say two and a half per cent for cash."

"Ah! Now you laugh at me! You are vat you call sly dog, eh? Hoch, zen! Vun gla.s.s of marwa, and zen egsplain ze position. Vonderful!

Vonderful!"

CHAPTER XVI

The Making of an Army

An Embargo--Federation--Gunpowder--An Object-Lesson--The Great Palaver--After Many Years--Pikes--The Call to Arms

In the exchange of confidences Herr Schwab informed Tom that he had been for several months wandering about with his donkeys and his samples, booking orders for his firm. He had for the most part confined himself to the villages in the vicinity of the Victoria Nyanza; but having heard rumours of a large body of Arabs who were in possession of plentiful stores of ivory, he had recently left German East Africa and come rapidly northwards. He had heard nothing whatever of the fate of Major Burnaby's expedition, and could not answer Tom's eager enquiries for his friends; indeed, he had met no Europeans except his own compatriots since he left Kisumu. He heard Tom's story, modestly told as it was, with mingled amazement and incredulity. But there was no gainsaying the fact that the young Englishman was virtually chief of a large Bahima village, and Schwab was not the man to lose any opportunity for trade.

Learning that an Arab attack was expected, and that Tom's pressing necessity was arms and ammunition, he offered to smuggle in some Mausers from German East Africa, as of course he could not import arms openly into the territory of the Congo Free State.

"Can't think of it," said Tom decisively. "If it's against the rules that's enough for me. We must play the game, you know. Besides, I'm going to try to make some gunpowder myself."

"Ach!" exclaimed the German with a shrug, "certainly you vill burn your fingers, my young friend. But now, vat can I do for you?"

"Fetch in your packages and let me see what you have."

When the bags were opened Tom at once marked a Colt revolver.

"That's mine," he said; "a pretty thing, by Jove! And you've cartridges for it! And I'll take that Waterbury I see there; made in Germany, of course. And three of those pocket-books, with a dozen lead-pencils; and that comb; and a tooth-brush. Have you a tooth-brush? That's the very thing. You've a razor too; I'd take that if you had a looking-gla.s.s.

I'd like to get rid of this fur on my cheeks, but I'm afraid I should gash myself horribly without a gla.s.s. What--you have one? Capital; and a shaving-brush too, I see, and soap. Why, Schwab, what a universal provider you are! There's one thing I'd give a great deal for, and that's a pound of tea, Mazawattee or anything else. Haven't any? Then I must do without. You have some quinine, I see; that'll always come in handy. I think that's about all. Now, how much does that come to?"