With Wolseley to Kumasi Part 28

"Dead!" replied the man who had answered his first question. "I saw him thrown against the tree, and heard the crash. His back is broken and also his head. He will never recover."

"Then fling him into the river and let us be going. After all, he played for a stake, and would have had the bulk of the reward for this fool's capture. But he bungled it. His fingers should have gripped the neck, for then they could not have been so easily grasped. It is a lesson to us all. Fling him in and pick up your burden."

None of the men seemed to think that there was anything remarkably inhuman in their action, for to these Ashantis human life was very cheap indeed, and kindness and mercy almost unknown qualities. While a man was alive and possessed of full strength he was a comrade to be respected, for he could take care of himself. Dead, however, or badly injured, he was a nuisance, a positive burden, to be rid of at the first moment; to be robbed and deserted, or to be flung into the nearest stream like a dog. Without a thought, therefore, they picked up the man who had played his part so well and flung him with a loud splash into the stagnant stream. Then, without a second look at their unconscious fellows, they turned, picked up the pole, and went off through the forest in the wake of James Langdon.

When d.i.c.k regained his senses an hour later his first feeling was one of extreme anguish in both hands and feet, and very soon the pain caused his scattered wits to return, and led him to discover the cause of his trouble. He was suffering tortures, so much so that the agony swamped all thought of his miserable condition as a captive. He struggled, and begged to be set down.

"Cut his legs adrift, then," said James Langdon, brutally. "Now place him on his feet and make a creeper fast to his hands. Better still, lash them behind his back instead of in front; then two of you can hold the end of the creeper."

They threw their prisoner on the ground and cut both lashings. Then they swung him over on to his face and tied his hands behind, making a long creeper fast to the lashing. A moment later they picked him up and placed him on his feet. He staggered and fell at once, his limbs doubling up beneath him.

"He won't stand, then!" cried the half-caste, his cruel nature delighted at the sight of so much suffering, and at the plight in which he saw the son of his old employer. "Set him up again and hold him there. I will thrash him till he changes his tune and agrees to make good use of his legs."

There was no haste about this ruffian. He drew a sheath knife and went in search of a knotted vine, returning with it, still plying his blade and paring off the small branches attached to it. Then he took his post behind his prisoner.

"Raise him, and stand well aside," he cried, with a gay laugh. "Now we will see how long it takes us to persuade him."

Could the prisoner have freed his hands at that moment and managed to reach his tormentor, he would have taken such a grip of his throat that James Langdon's villainy would have been summarily ended for all time.

d.i.c.k felt the cruel sting of the lashes as they fell upon his back, across his face, and on his legs and shoulders. But his indignation and rage at such cowardly and dastardly treatment helped to ease the pain.

He clenched his fingers, closed his lips firmly, and when he could fixed his gaze upon the ruffian who belaboured him. Then, gradually, as the man tired and his blows lost power, and as the circulation returned to the prisoner's legs, he gained sufficient strength to stand, and then to hobble.

"See what a good healer I am," laughed the half-caste. "Others would have rubbed his legs and feet. I use my whip to his back, and the sulky dog is roused. He finds that it will be as well to walk and do as he is bid."

"And he will find it in him to punish such an act when the time comes,"

gasped d.i.c.k. "I do not threaten, James Langdon, thief and ruffian. I give you due warning. When the time comes, I will shoot you as if you were a wild beast, without notice and without mercy. Vermin such as you are do not deserve ordinary treatment."

For a few seconds the half-caste was taken aback, for at heart he was an arrant coward, and the mere mention of what might happen to him was sufficient to shake his nerve. But he had the game in his own hands now, he flattered himself. This time the youth at whose door he laid all his troubles, the need which drove him to live this life in the jungle, the fever which racked him, and a hundred other evils, was securely bound, a prisoner, from whom no danger was to be apprehended.

His words were harmless. He was as helpless as a new-born babe.

"When the time comes I shall be prepared," he said, with a laugh which he vainly endeavoured to make easy and light. "For the present we will advance, and leave threats and chatter till later. Advance, and beat the dog if he shows signs of lagging."

Had the Ashanti warriors who helped in the capture and who now formed the escort had even hearts of stone they would have pitied their prisoner. The very fact that he had made a very gallant and determined fight for freedom would have aroused their enthusiasm and respect. But these men of k.u.masi had long since had all such feelings driven from their b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The constant succession of cruelties of the most frightful nature perpetrated at k.u.masi had hardened them to all human feeling and misery. They had, every one of them, from the time when they were mere children, been daily witnesses of executions, of unmeaning and ferocious tortures, and of endless bloodshed. Mercy they had never encountered. There was but one punishment for prisoners and evil-doers alike, for the thief, the murderer, and those whose cruel fate had caused them to be born in slavery. The executioners stretched out their greedy and remorseless hands for all, and who could say when their turn would come? Was it remarkable, therefore, that these men marched on before and behind their prisoner, belabouring him when his steps flagged, and shouting oaths at him? And so, in this sorry plight, his feet tingling still, while his hands felt as if the skin would burst, so tight were the lashings, d.i.c.k was hurried on through the dark and sombre forest out to the clearing and to the site where had stood the mine stockade. There, as the procession halted, he threw himself on the ground in an exhausted condition, wishing almost that he might die.

His thirst was now unbearable, while his head throbbed and ached from the blow he had received. No wonder, too, if he were apathetic, if his fate were now a matter of little concern to him; for his present miseries overshadowed all else.

"Give him some water, and put him in the shade," ordered the half-caste.

"Two of you stand over him with your guns, and if he moves thrash him with the vine. We will teach him how to behave while he is in our hands."

He glared at his prisoner, who took not the slightest notice of him.

But as soon as the water was brought d.i.c.k drank it greedily, for he was parched. Then he lay down, his hands still secured behind his back, and very soon, utterly wearied by his night's work, and by his struggle with the enemy, he fell fast asleep, enjoying a dreamless rest which was of the greatest service to him.

What would have been the feelings of those gallant souls away down the river had they known of the treachery to which their young leader had fallen a victim! Had they but guessed that the fleeing native was only part of a clever plan, laboriously thought out by the half-caste robber whose thefts had driven him to take to the forests, and who, like so many of those who have wronged the man whose salt they have eaten, had turned all his hate and vengeance upon that man or his representative!

But how could they guess? It had all been so real. The native boat appearing at dawn, with a shouting mob in full pursuit, as if the light had only then enabled them to discover the runaway. Their shots, falling recklessly about the boat, and the desperate haste of the native himself, his wound and his apparent exhaustion, had all aided in misleading the crew of the launch. They never imagined that their presence in the river had been instantly detected, and that when they lay to for the night, their exact whereabouts had come to the ears of James Langdon and his roving band of free-booters. But that was what had happened.

The half-caste had learned that d.i.c.k Stapleton had formerly come up the river, and had been taken back to the sea owing to an attack of fever.

His spies, of whom there were many on the coast, had told him how the young fellow fared, and had sent news as soon as preparations for another expedition with the launch had been commenced. Then he had hatched his plot to trap his master's son, and with fiendish ingenuity had relied upon the gallantry of his dupe to lead him into the net.

What was easier than for this man, accustomed to clerical duties, and, as it chanced, acquainted with Meinheer, to scrawl a few letters on a piece of linen, and sign the Dutchman's name? for he knew well that the fraud in the signature would never be detected. It was a well-planned plot, and had succeeded only too well, though the victim had made a hard fight for his liberty and had given unexpected trouble.

And so while d.i.c.k lay there in the shade, fast asleep, the crew of the launch dozed the hours away, knowing well that they could not look for his return till late the following night.

Some few hours after d.i.c.k had fallen asleep he was kicked and ordered to stand up.

"We start for k.u.masi," said James Langdon, with a leer, "for the seat of the great King Koffee. There is a prospect before you, young man, and you will have time to think about it. Make sure of him," he went on, turning to his followers, "for the captive is no longer mine. He belongs to the King, and it will be a bad day's work for the one whose carelessness results in his escape. Now, march on, and let us push the pace."

Three days later the procession marched into the town of k.u.masi, their prisoner still in their midst, footsore and weary, but with courage undaunted. They pa.s.sed at once along the princ.i.p.al street, and d.i.c.k was astonished to find that it was very wide, that neat huts stood in an orderly line on either side, and that trees grew here and there, offering a welcome shade. The thousands who came to stare and mock at him seemed neat and tidy, though they boasted little clothing, while the whole air of the town was one of prosperity and orderliness. But there was one huge drawback, which attracted the prisoner's attention the instant he set foot in k.u.masi, indeed, even before he reached the town.

Where there should have been the pleasantest of breezes there was the most ghastly and nauseating odour of dead men, and as the procession advanced the cause of this became more and more apparent. For k.u.masi was like a charnel house. The bodies of the hundreds of poor wretches who were slain were simply thrown into the nearest stagnant stream, or were piled in a narrow grove, the fetish grove, adjacent to the house of execution. In truth, the smell of blood was everywhere, and on every hand dark stains told of its presence. No wonder that he shuddered, while his courage began to evaporate.

"How awful!" he thought. "The place makes one feel deadly sick, and the sights on either side are shocking. If that is to be the end, then the sooner the better. But I am not done yet. I will have a try for freedom, and it may be that I shall succeed. To think I have been made a fool of, and that letter was a forgery. Poor old Meinheer is dead after all."

Even in the depths of his misery he could think unselfishly of others, of the unfortunate Dutchman whose name had been sufficient to bring his young agent to this plight. A moment later his thoughts were interrupted by James Langdon.

"The lions have had a good view of him," he laughed, as he nodded to the crowd, who evidently held the half-caste in some awe. "In a little while he shall afford them more sport, and they shall see what sort of a captive I have brought them. Pack him into the hut here, next to mine, and watch him while I go to the King. My servant will see to his food.

Cut his lashings and bundle him in."

A man produced his sword, and the lashings were cut. Then, with the smallest ceremony, d.i.c.k was bundled into the hut, a one-roomed erection, smelling evilly, and almost devoid of light. But it was his for the moment, and he revelled in the opportunity it gave him to be alone. He sat down in one corner, feeling weary and sore from head to foot, while the evil smell of the place made him horribly sick. He was faint and giddy, and when at length the food was brought which was to be his evening meal, he pushed it from him.

He was down again with fever. No white man can live in the heart of the Ashanti forests, particularly on the river, without subjecting himself to the risk of incessant fever attacks, and once the malady has been gained, the paroxysms are apt to recur very often. Hardship, privation and excitement generally are sufficient to cause them to return, and it is therefore not wonderful to have to record that d.i.c.k Stapleton was again a victim. His teeth chattered, he was miserably cold in spite of the fact that the temperature in this stuffy hut was almost unbearable, and he had no appet.i.te. Indeed, he was soon semi-delirious, and it was not till many weeks had pa.s.sed that he was himself again. The fever, want of nursing, unsatisfactory foods, and incarceration in the hut did their work too thoroughly, so that on this occasion he was longer in recovering. And when he was stronger, and was allowed to step from the hut, it was to find k.u.masi in a ferment, to discover the house of execution fully occupied, and the bodies of fresh victims everywhere.

For the British advance had begun. Sir Garnet Wolseley, the energetic and indefatigable worker, was already on the way to the capital of the Ashantis, with a goodly following of troops behind him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

KING KOFFEE, THE TERRIBLE.

k.u.masi was in an uproar. The long, wide street which cut through the heart of the huge town was alive with Ashanti warriors, and with shrieking women and children. There was consternation on every face, and fierce anger at the news which had just come from the river Prahsu.

"Your soldiers have bridged the river and are about to advance," growled James Langdon, as he threw the door of the prison hut open and accosted d.i.c.k. "These fools here think that their fetish will prevail and keep the British back. I know better, for I have seen British troops. They will reach this place, and perhaps give it to the flames. Then they will retire, and as they go we shall fall upon them and cut them to pieces. You need not think that they will find you here. You are a marked man, and, at the last, when the advance still takes place, the Ashantis will offer you to their fetish in the hope that your sacrifice will arrest the enemy. It would have been better for you, d.i.c.k Stapleton, had you never interfered with me."

"And by the look of you, it would have been easier for you had you hanged yourself weeks ago," answered our hero, calmly, and with a smile which made his captor writhe. "You look as though you were haunted, and I think that you must have had a very miserable time since you left the coast. You are a traitor and a murderer, and you are bound to be caught and punished."

"Not if I rejoin the British. What if I set you and the other Europeans free! Would you obtain a pardon?"

d.i.c.k emphatically shook his head, for he mistrusted this man. More than that, he was wise enough to know that even though James Langdon might desire to do as he said, the Ashantis would never permit such action. A glance at the face of the half-caste was sufficient to show that he was ill at ease. Matters were beginning to look serious for King Koffee and his people, and the very sight of this half-caste, who had urged them to action and to resistance, angered them. They had lost faith in him, and James Langdon knew that at any time the King's favour might be withdrawn and he himself fall a victim. He turned away with an oath. Then he called for the guard which kept watch over the house, and gave an order.

At once d.i.c.k was bound and led off down the street, and having reached a wide open s.p.a.ce, close to the horrible fetish grove, he was brought to a halt within a few paces of the enormous sacrificial bowl, with its legs in the form of crouching lions, on the edge of which the Ashantis were wont to slay their victims. Never in all his life had he seen such a hideous sight.

"Terrible! terrible!" he murmured. "To think that men could be such brutes! It is horrible!"

He closed his eyes for a little while, and then opened them again as there was a commotion. Then, indeed, he gave a start, for four white men were slowly led into the arena, all strangers to him, and all miserable prisoners like himself. They looked at him sharply, and one of them called out a greeting.

"Sorry to see you here," he said, with a foreign accent. "How long have you been a prisoner?"

"About six weeks. And you?"

"A year perhaps. We had hoped to be freed by the payment of a ransom.

Now I suppose we must wait for the troops if these brutes will allow us.

There is never any saying what they may do. To-day there will be a great sacrifice, and we are always dragged here to witness the awful scene. What news?"

He asked the question eagerly, and in a few words d.i.c.k narrated how Sir Garnet had landed and commenced operations, and how by now the troops must be at the coast and probably on the march up.