Tom Burnaby Part 7

But he reckoned without his chief. It took Mbutu over an hour to conclude the bargain, the chief asking for one thing after another in payment, and showing a special desire for Tom's scarf-pin. When the price had finally been fixed at a number of beads, an old clasp-knife, ten yards of calico, and a couple of boot-laces, a further difficulty arose. The chief absolutely refused to allow his men to start at night: journeys begun beneath a full moon were of ill omen, he said, and Mbutu himself was superst.i.tious enough to sympathize with him. Anxious as Tom was to get on, he saw that it would be unwise to press the chief any further, and accordingly arranged that the light canoe, with a crew of four strong paddlers, should be at his disposal at daybreak next morning.

"Now, Mbutu," said Tom, "just ask him if he has seen anything of the Portuguese we caught a glimpse of just now."

No, the chief had not seen the white man in the green coat, but a moon before he had seen one of the Wa-daki, who lived night and--

"Bother the Wa-daki! Just tell him that if he does see anything of the dago he is to say nothing about us. Does he understand? And none of his men is to say anything either. You'd better impress that on the katikiro too."

Mbutu having carried out his master's instructions in his own decorative way, Tom, with much ceremony, presented the chief with half a dozen yellow beads and a pocket handkerchief, dexterously avoided his greasy paw, and despatched Mbutu to find a place, away from the malodorous village, where they might comfortably pa.s.s the night.

Next morning they were up betimes. Tom was ravenously hungry, but did not feel happy at the thought of eating anything prepared in the village. He was surprised when Mbutu brought him an earthen pot filled with excellent tea, a slice of fried goat, and a few chapatties made, as he afterwards learnt, of banana-flour.

"Upon my word, Mbutu," he said, "I shall have to make you my katikiro right away."

Mbutu beamed his delight. Their breakfast finished, they went to find their canoe. It was already lying in the creek they had crossed on the previous evening. The crew were four muscular Baganda dressed in nothing but loin-cloths and grease, who all began to jabber at once as Tom approached.

"What do they say?" Tom asked.

"Say you fader and mudder, sah. All belong sah; huts belong sah; food belong sah; eberyfing belong sah."

"That's very kind of them, I'm sure. I wish they'd wash off that grease, though. What shall I say to them, Mbutu?"

"Me palaver man; me katikiro, sah."

Mbutu told the men that his master was their father and mother; would build up their huts if by any chance they were destroyed during their absence; would give their children charms to preserve them from snake-bites and the sleeping sickness; and as a token of sincerity in these pledges would eat a sheep with them at the first opportunity.

They snapped their fingers and smiled, and looked with great reverence at the unconscious Tom, who had been in a brown study while his henchman was speaking.

"I've been thinking, Mbutu," he said; "suppose the Portuguese has been hanging about. If he recognized you he is sure to suspect that I know rather too much about him now, and he may be on the watch for us. We should be no match for him and his eight men if they happen to be armed.

What do you think?"

"Sah fink; tell Mbutu."

"Well now, if they are on our track they won't be far away. Just ask these fellows if the river bends at all."

The men declared that the water bent like a bow to south, a half-hour's paddling from where they were.

"Then you and I, Mbutu, will cut across country and meet the canoe by and by. I suppose there's a way?"

Yes; the crew said there was a path through a stretch of thin forest, which rejoined the river after about five miles.

"The very thing. Now, tell these fellows that if a white man in a green coat meets them, and asks after us, they are to say that a white man is in their village, and that they are sent to summon the chief of another village--they can give it a name--to a grand palaver about food for the expedition on its way back."

Mbutu repeated these instructions, adding that the green-coated man had a particularly keen kiboko. The quick-witted natives appreciated at once the part they were to play, and chuckled with enjoyment. They took their seats on the poles which, placed transverse through holes in the sides of the canoe, served as thwarts, struck their paddles into the water, and, raising their voices in a curious chant, drove their red-coloured bark rapidly up-stream.

Tom watched them till they were out of sight among the reeds, then turned and strode off with Mbutu. All their baggage and a stock of food were in the canoe; Tom had nothing but his field-gla.s.s and a light switch he had cut that morning from a tree. It was seven o'clock, and the sun being not yet high, marching would not have been unpleasant but for the heavy dew upon the long gra.s.s and spreading plants over which they had to walk. Very soon they were soaked to the waist, and Tom thought that Mbutu with his bare legs had decidedly the best of it.

Their progress through the forest was not rapid, owing to the tangle of vegetation through which they had at times to force a way. It was nearly nine before they saw the river again. The canoe was waiting for them, and Mbutu ran ahead. Tom could see by the excited way in which the crew gabbled and gesticulated that something had happened. When he reached them, Mbutu informed him that the canoe had been hailed by the Portuguese, who had been lying in wait for them in a creek some three miles up the river. He had questioned the crew, who, after giving him the message as had been arranged, had seen him paddle back hurriedly towards the mouth of the river. They had noticed that all his men were armed with rifles, and volubly regretted that they had been unable to fight him.

"They're as pleased as Punch at having outwitted him, anyhow," said Tom.

"Tell them I'll give them some beads for doing so well. Now, Mbutu, you go in the bow, I'll take the stern, and we'll see how these fellows paddle."

The men struck their paddles into the water, and, keeping perfect time, sent the canoe along at a swinging pace. They accompanied their strokes with a crooning chant, the words sounding something like this--

Nsologumba kanpitepite kunyanja Nsologumba oluilaita kunyanja Nsologumba lekanpitepite kunyanja.

Tom knew his elements of music, and could take his part in "Willow the King"; but the notes of this tune fitted no scale he had ever heard of.

The same words were repeated again and again for half an hour at a stretch, until he felt rather tired of them.

"I wish they'd turn on another tap," he said to himself, "but I suppose their feelings would be hurt if I told them so. Mbutu, my boy, what's their song about?"

Mbutu turned up the whites of his eyes in the effort to translate, then chanted solemnly:

"Man all alone row up de ribber, man all alone row up de ribber, man all alone row up de ribber; alone de man row up ribber, alone de man row up--"

"Thanks! I know it by heart now. D'you think you could tell them a story, Mbutu? Anything to keep them quiet. The man all alone wants to think, tell them."

"All right, sah! berrah well, sah! Me tell story about uncle and croc'dile--berrah nice story, sah!"

"Very well; make it as long as you like."

"Uncle, sah, in canoe, all alone row up de ribber. Uncle, sah--"

"Quite so, but you can tell me the story another time. I want you to keep the crew amused, you understand."

Mbutu looked rather disappointed, but at once began to unfold his story to the negroes, who listened with strained attention, breaking out at intervals into guffaws of pleasure and cries of amazement.

Meanwhile Tom looked about him. The crew had evidently performed this journey before, for they dexterously skirted the shallows, and appeared to know exactly where to pull to avoid the encroaching reeds. Beyond the reeds the banks were lined with splendid trees, some with white trunks, others with gray, others with black; the foliage of vivid green; the blossoms of many hues--crimson, scarlet, lilac, yellow, white. On some of them india-rubber vines had fastened themselves in long loops and festoons. The river itself shone in the sunlight like a pathway of polished metal. Here and there it seemed to cease to be a river at all, and became a mere lagoon, and at such spots Tom saw more than one rhinoceros wallowing, their horned snouts just out of the water. As the canoe progressed, the rushes were less dense; a thick wall of soft-wood plants came into view; raphia-palms with their huge fronds, wild bananas with their enormous leaves, the slender stems of date-palms, crowned with graceful plumage of the richest green. The air was still, save now and again when the canoe disturbed a haunt of water-fowl, or a parrot flew squawking among the reeds, or a covey of beautifully-coloured widow-finches darted from shrub to shrub uttering their harsh little cries. Occasionally the canoe pa.s.sed a tree on which innumerable monkeys were chattering and squabbling. Once Tom's ear caught the inimitable trill of a thrush, reminding him of Home; and as the canoe glided beneath the branches of a spreading plantain, a number of large birds, with gorgeous blue bodies, crimson pinions, and tufted heads, sportively pursued one another among the foliage, boo-hooing, braying, shrieking uproariously.

"What's that noisy fowl?" asked Tom, interrupting Mbutu as he was regaling the crew for the tenth time with the moving story of his uncle and the crocodile.

"Dat, sah? Dat big plantain-eater, sah. Berrah brave bird, sah! Him come see me in hut; see uncle, sah, all alone row up ribber. Uncle go sleep, sah; leg ober side--"

At this moment the crew, deprived of their recent amus.e.m.e.nt, struck up again--

Nsologumba kanpitepite kunyanja Nsologumba oluilaita kunyanja.

"Couldn't you tell them another story?" suggested Tom.

With a glance in which Tom detected a shade of reproach, the boy resumed his narrative, and kept the crew engrossed until his master called "easy all" for dinner.

Running the canoe up a narrow creek, the men sprang on sh.o.r.e with their axes, and returned by and by bearing with them a huge bunch of ripe bananas, culled from a river-side plantation. These, with some of the biscuits which the padre had thoughtfully packed among his baggage, and a draught of not very palatable water lapped up from the river, Tom found quite sufficient to stay his hunger and thirst. The crew diversified their meal with ground-nuts and a stuff that looked like moist almond-rock, which they took out of a wrapping of leaves. One of them offered Mbutu a small hunk, and he broke off about a fourth part of it, handing the rest to Tom.

"Not to-day, thanks! What is it, may I ask?"

"Berrah nice, sah! Cheese, sah!"

"Really! And what is it made of? Not milk, judging by the look of it."

"Mango, sah! Chop mango stone; take out all inside; knock him about, sah; make cheese. Berrah nice, sah!"