Tom Burnaby Part 15

A few minutes after Mbutu had left his master to go on his painful quest for help, four big Manyema warriors came bounding through the forest.

They carried spears, the iron heads of which were as yet clear of blood.

When they caught sight of the six prostrate bodies in the narrow glade they halted, and with one consent bent down to rifle the dead. They had stripped two of the Arabs of what small articles of value they possessed, when the negro who had stooped over Tom's body uttered a sharp exclamation, at which his companions left their gruesome occupation and came hastily to his side. As he was tearing a b.u.t.ton from Tom's coat, the eyes of the apparent corpse had opened for an instant, and the body had moved uneasily. The four men stooped, peering at it, talking excitedly, and waxing hotter and hotter in argument.

Three of them were for spearing the body at once, declaring that, from the nature of the wound, death was inevitable, and that they might as well hasten matters and share the spoil. But the man who had come first upon the scene obstinately opposed this course. It was the body of an Englishman, he said; there was still life in him; and it would tend very much to their advantage to keep him alive and carry him to the Arab chief, who would no doubt reward them handsomely for so valuable a prize. As a final argument, he reminded his friends that they had been among the first to bolt from the field, and as they were aware of the punishment that awaited them, it was well to propitiate the chief and save their skins. This argument had its effect, and without wasting more time on the fallen Arabs, they prepared to carry Tom away.

The leader tore a strip from the burnous of one of the Arabs, and deftly wound it about Tom's head, to prevent further loss of blood from the deep gash at the base of his skull. The rest as quickly fas.h.i.+oned a litter out of two spears and another burnous; and before Mbutu had walked halfway to the British camp, his master was being borne by the four Manyema swiftly in the opposite direction.

He was still unconscious when the men placed him on the litter. The terrific blow inflicted on him by the Arab, followed by his heavy fall, had been very near causing concussion of the brain, and the loss of blood he had suffered would of itself have deprived him of consciousness. Indeed, but for the opportune arrival of his captors, and the interested thoughtfulness of the man who had bandaged his head, there can be no doubt that Tom Burnaby would in a short time have done with mortality and become a prey to jackals and vultures.

As the Manyema hurried on with elastic stride, the gentle swinging motion of the litter appeared to revive him partially. The moon had just risen, and Tom, opening his eyes, fancied that he was being borne along by the Soudanese who had carried him into camp the day before.

His lips moved, and the bearers started when they heard their helpless prisoner muttering light-headedly until he dozed again into quietude.

After the negroes had tramped for about an hour, following a narrow track by the light of moon and stars, they were stopped by an Arab who came suddenly out of the forest, and demanded of them who they were. He looked with interest at the pale face of the sleeping stripling in the litter, and informed the carriers that he himself was one of a number of scouts left at various points along the track of the Arab chief, to direct stragglers to head-quarters. After the second repulse, and his single-handed fight with Tom, the chief had made no further attempt to rally his men, but struck due north, picking up several parties of fugitives on the way. At the distance of some few miles from the scene of his disaster he knew of a ford over the river, at which he crossed, continuing thence his march in a westerly direction until he reached the right bank of the River Ntungwe, not far from its entrance into Lake Albert Edward. There he encamped for the night, leaving word of his whereabouts, as has been shown, and appointing a general rendezvous at a village on the farther bank of the Rutchuru.

All this the four Manyema learnt from the Arab scout, who, while speaking, had helped himself to Tom's watch and chain, roughly telling the negroes that he would shoot them if they breathed a word of that little performance to the chief. He then allowed them to proceed. They soon afterwards struck into a path leading to the ford, crossed the river under a ghostly moonlight, and reached the encampment an hour before dawn.

Their arrival was not the important event they had antic.i.p.ated. Shortly before, the Wanyabinga chief against whose village the British expedition was directed, and who had brought a contingent to the Arab force, had come into camp to plead with the Arab for one more attempt to destroy Major Burnaby's little army. He had himself done all he could, he said; he had "eaten up" all his rivals in the neighbouring villages for a score of miles round, in order to starve the British force; his knowledge of the country had proved invaluable to the Arabs in their raids for ivory; and it was due to information given by him that the ambush from which he had expected so much had been planned. It was unfortunate, a calamity only to be ascribed to some ju-ju or medicine-man, that the ambush had failed; but for all that, he contended, his services still merited some reward. If his lord Mustapha was not prepared to make a direct a.s.sault on the expeditionary force, he might at least help in the defence of the speaker's village, which was encircled by a triple stockade, and impregnable, he thought, if strongly held.

Now the poor Wanyabinga chief had all along been the dupe of his astute Arab ally. Mustapha had used him entirely for his own ends. He had instigated the acts of insubordination and treachery which Major Burnaby was proceeding to punish, persuading the credulous negro that the white man would before long be altogether expelled from the lake country, and promising, when that happy day came, to establish him, the native chief, as King of Uganda. But the Arab was furious at the failure of his cherished scheme. He was beside himself with rage, ready to vent it on whatever person or thing came first in his way. His answer to the black chief's plea was a brutal laugh, a curse, a jibe. The Wanyabinga attempted to bring him to reason. "When I am king of Uganda," he said, "I will repay your kindness with hundreds upon hundreds of slaves, and untold wealth of ivory." "You king of Uganda!" retorted Mustapha derisively; "you will one day carry my wash-pot and tie the latchets of my shoe!" The man protested, whereupon the Arab flew into a pa.s.sion, and, drawing his sword, declared flatly that he would slice the importunate wretch into little pieces if he did not immediately withdraw from his presence. The negro hastily departed, nursing wild purposes of vengeance in his heart.

It was just after this scene that the four tired Manyema brought Tom into the camp. They sought an interview with the chief. He declined to see them. They sent word to him that they had with them a wounded officer of the British force. His answer was that they might kill him and eat him if they pleased. Astonished and crestfallen, they were considering with one another what to do with their captive when the chief's hakim appeared on the scene. Put in possession of the facts, he advised the men to attempt nothing further with Mustapha in his present temper; in the meantime he himself would be answerable for the prisoner.

The negroes were loth to let him go without some tangible recompense for their labour; but when the Arab glared at them, and threatened them with the mysteries of his art, with superst.i.tious fear they left their unconscious burden and went moodily away.

Tom owed his life to the skilful tendance of the Arab physician. With such rough appliances and medicaments as he had at hand, the hakim dressed Tom's wounds; he then placed him in a comfortable position by his own watch-fire, and sat by him until daylight.

Tom awoke with the dawn, conscious of a terrible pain at the back of his head, and a feeling all over him of emptiness and collapse. He was too feeble even to be surprised when he saw the grave face of the Arab a few feet from his own.

"Where am I?" he whispered, and wondered at the scarcely audible sound of his own voice. The Arab shook his head. He knew no English. He went away, and returned presently with a cup of some warm liquid, which he administered in drops on a horn spoon. Tom was grateful for the attention; the Arab fed him thus for ten minutes, and the food revived him, bringing a touch of colour into his pale cheeks.

Almost immediately afterwards the order was given to strike camp. By eight o'clock the crowd was in motion. During the night some four hundred Arabs had rallied to the chief, as well as a number of their black allies. But the majority of the Manyema had had their confidence in the Arabs dismally shattered by the event of the previous day, and had dispersed to their homes.

The chief, knowing that he was new in the territory of the Congo Free State, felt pretty secure from pursuit by the British, and had decided to continue his march westward towards the Rutchuru at a moderate pace.

He stalked along with downbent head before his troops, reminding Tom, when he saw him presently, of Napoleon in Meissonier's picture of the retreat from Moscow. The hakim had seen him early in the morning, and spoken to him of the English prisoner; and the chief had curtly bidden the physician tend him carefully, as he might be valuable as a hostage.

As for him, he had other matters to attend to. Tom learnt later what these other matters were.

The hakim sought out the four Manyema who had brought Tom to the camp, and ordered them to resume their task. The Arab walked by the head of the litter, and when the sun rose higher, he arranged a linen screen above Tom's head, which served to defend him from the burning rays and in some measure from insects.

At mid-day the chief halted to dispose of the business that weighed on him. He first called up the Wanyabinga chief, who had clung to the band in the hope of the Arab's relenting. But Mustapha told him bluntly that if he accompanied the caravan farther it would be as a slave. The man stood trembling for a moment as though paralysed; then muttering awful imprecations, he collected his few tribesmen, brandished his spear thrice, and bolted amid his men across the swamp. Having reached a safe distance he halted, led a chorus of execration, and hurling his spear in a last desperate defiance at his late ally, he turned and disappeared into the bush.

Then the Arab formed a court of six of his leading men, and summoned before him two miserable wretches whom Tom had noticed marching painfully, with shackled feet and wrists, under a close guard. They were charged with cowardice during the first terrible fight on the previous afternoon. In due form they were condemned to death and led away, and shortly afterwards Tom heard two shots. In affairs of this kind the Arabs waste no ammunition.

The march was resumed, and now that he had attended to his other matters, the chief had time to take some notice of Tom, He came up to the litter, and started when he saw that the prisoner was none other than the stripling who had held him in such desperate fight. He grunted, as though in displeasure at discovering his doughty opponent still alive; then a faint smile wreathed his lips, and the cloud that had darkened his face all day cleared away. He spoke rapidly to the hakim, who nodded his head and replied gravely. Tom of course understood nothing of what they said, but he inferred that the physician had declared him out of danger, and that the Arab was calculating on turning the capture to some profit. Giving Tom another glance, in which there was a tinge of admiration for a warrior worthy of his steel, Mustapha returned to his place at the head of the caravan.

Late that night they reached the right bank of the Rutchuru. The chief and his men had slept for but one hour during the past twenty-four, and were too tired to attempt a crossing. They formed a zariba on a stretch of dry ground about half a mile from the river, intending to continue the march next day towards their stronghold beyond the hills. Tom was again carefully tended by Mahmoud the hakim, and, thanks to his fine const.i.tution, was steadily gaining strength.

Next morning, just as the Arabs were breaking up camp, one of the scouts who had already been sent across the river returned with the news that, some distance beyond the farther bank, he had descried from an eminence a body of about a hundred men in uniform preparing to march. They were commanded by a white officer. The question naturally flashed into Mustapha's mind: "Could they be a part of the British force sent out in search of the missing officer?" He had already heard, from one or two late stragglers from the force which had engaged Captain Lister, of the rockets sent up and the bugles sounded when darkness had fallen after the fight, and he had no stomach for encountering a vengeful search-party. The force just discovered, it was true, was in a quarter where the British were little to be expected, but it was well to be on the safe side. Hoping that his troops had not yet been seen, and that if they had been seen they would be mistaken in the distance for a peaceful caravan, the Arab determined on a strategic move. Instead of crossing the river, and thus coming upon the other force at an acute angle, he moved off in a north-easterly direction, as though making for the south-eastern corner of Lake Albert Edward, leaving a few trusty scouts to watch the movements of the unknown troops. But this was only a feint. After marching for a few miles he swung round suddenly to the south-east, cut across the track of his previous day's march, pressed on rapidly over the swampy ground, and struck the Rutchuru some ten miles from his first position, the river bending there almost due east. There he crossed, and, finding a stretch of comparatively clear and level ground between the forest and the hills, he halted his men, to rest them after their forced march.

Not many minutes afterwards a scout came up at full speed to say that the unknown force was following hot-foot at their heels, and taking a more direct line, having evidently divined the object of the trick. The news was hardly out of his mouth when another scout followed and informed the chief that the pursuing force was composed of Bangala, and was unmistakeably Belgian, and not British. Mustapha smiled grimly.

His four hundred Arabs were a match, he thought, for a body of Bangala of one fourth that number, and rather than run the risk of being dogged and hara.s.sed, he determined to chance a fight. Sending his transport on in advance, under an escort of fifty Arabs and a crowd of negroes, he proceeded to prepare a hot welcome for his pursuers.

He knew every inch of the ground. Between his halting-place and the foot of the hills intervened a swamp some two miles long and half a mile broad. It was crossed by two paths, one leading straight to the hills, the other intersecting the first at right angles about a quarter of a mile from the outer edge of the swamp. The whole region was mere mud and water, except along the paths, with elephant-gra.s.s at least twelve feet high standing up in all directions.

Mustapha made his dispositions rapidly. He posted a hundred of his men on the second and shorter path, about two hundred yards to the left of the main path, at a spot where they were absolutely concealed by tall gra.s.s. At the farther end of the main path he placed another hundred, with orders to offer a feeble resistance to the Belgian troops, and to retire before them into a dense copse at the base of the hills. A third hundred were stationed some three hundred yards north, at the edge of the swamp, on a line curving to the east, so that they commanded the right flank of the advancing force. These positions had hardly been taken up when the Belgian scouts, having crossed the river, advanced cautiously to the edge of the swamp and began to move forward along the main path. Just as they came to the crossways they caught sight of a few Arabs retiring in their immediate front, these having been instructed so to do in order to lure them on. The plan worked perfectly. Not troubling to examine the crosspaths, they returned with the information that the Arabs were retreating to the hills, obviously desirous of avoiding an engagement. The Belgian commandant, who had arrived but recently from Europe and was burning to distinguish himself in the pursuit of raiders, ordered his men to press forward rapidly. The Bangala advanced in single file, their commandant at their head, between hedges of gra.s.s, sometimes in their haste slipping knee-deep into the swamp.

They came in sight of the end of the path, and were met by a few shots from the Arabs there a.s.sembled, who then retired in apparent trepidation. At the same time the Arabs stationed to the north opened a brisk fire on the Bangala's right flank, to which they replied vigorously, but ineffectively, for the gra.s.s was too high to allow them to see the enemy or take careful aim. The commandant, at the head of the column, ordered a halt, and was amazed now to hear shots in his rear. The Arabs posted on the crosspath had begun to fire on the rear of the slender column. Fearing for his transport, which he had left under a small guard at the edge of the swamp, the commandant made the fatal mistake of ordering a retreat. His men turned about and began to run back. Meanwhile the Arabs behind them had come from their place of concealment and taken up their position at the crossways on both sides of the path, and those at the other end, who had pretended to retire, returned in brisk pursuit. Caught between two fires, the Bangala were thrown into a panic. The commandant was. .h.i.t, and speared as he lay; his men, paralysed with fright, either stood until they were shot down, or plunged into the swamp and met their death in the ooze.

Mustapha, with grim exultation in his face, then swept down upon the feebly-defended transport. The Bangala, after firing one shot, threw down their arms and begged for mercy. They were given a choice between instant death and slavery; and in the upshot, when the Arab chief continued his journey westward, he was richer by the whole of the Belgian baggage and a slave-gang of twenty Bangala, with as many more negro carriers.

Tom in his litter had been sent forward with Mahmoud the physician and the Arab baggage. At the sound of firing his heart leapt with the thought that it was perhaps his uncle who had overtaken the Arabs. The watchful hakim observed his excitement, and dashed his hopes with a shake of the head. At that moment a slug, shot from who knows where, dropped within a yard of Tom's litter. The Arab started and let fall an exclamation in German.

"Do you know German?" asked Tom eagerly in the same language. He felt quite friendly towards the grave hakim with the high narrow forehead and the long straggling beard.

"Yes, a little," said the Arab in surprise. "I lived a long time in Bagamoyo, when the Germans first came, and I have learned to speak a little in their infidel tongue."

"I can't tell you how glad I am. I've been longing to have someone to talk to now that I am getting better. Who is firing away over there?"

"Belgians."

"Oh!" Tom looked glum, and the Arab's lips wore a queer little smile.

"You may give up hope of rescue," continued the Arab. "We are miles and miles away from your friends, and they would never find you."

"What am I to expect, then? Better shoot me at once--if they think of keeping me as a prisoner."

"You have rich friends, no doubt; they will pay."

"Ransom! Much I'm worth! What are you taking me right away from my friends for, then?"

The Arab shrugged.

"You can judge," he said.

And indeed, when Tom thought of it, he saw that the chief was wise in seeking his remote and inaccessible stronghold before opening communications with the British authorities.

It took two days to reach the village appointed by the chief as the rendezvous for his scattered force. Tom was carried all the way in the litter, the hakim refusing to allow him yet to try to walk. They talked together in German, but though the Arab spoke freely enough about things in general, giving the captive many bits of curious and interesting information, he was very reserved on all matters relating to the chief's aims and plans and movements.

On reaching the village the chief announced his intention of remaining there for three days, to give his friends and allies ample time for rejoining him. From the hut in which the hakim had fixed his quarters Tom had a clear view through the village. He saw a scene which haunted his memory and imagination for many a long day. Within a fence of banana stalks stood a series of low sheds, many lines deep. Between them, and around, were packed rows upon rows of naked negroes, standing, lying stretched upon the ground, or moving about in utter listlessness.

Young men, women, children, all, save the very youngest, were chained and fettered; their necks were encircled with iron rings, through which a chain pa.s.sed, binding the wretched creatures together in gangs of twenty. Tom saw one man raise his hand to his neck to ease it of the galling band; another, worn to a skeleton, lay panting his life out by a heap of filth; two tiny black boys were innocently playing with the links of the chain that bound their mother to other women. The look of agony and despair upon the faces of the grown slaves, still more the happy unconsciousness of the little children, touched Tom to the heart, and there and then he vowed, if in G.o.d's providence he ever escaped from that place of horror, to do all in his power to help stamp out the cruel trade. He poured out his indignation in fierce words to the Arab, who smiled and shrugged, remarking simply, "Allah is good." Tom tried to reason with him, but found him absolutely incapable even of understanding what the pother was about. "There always had been slaves, there always would be slaves; Allah is good."

Tom turned away, impatient and sick at heart. His eye fell on an adjacent enclosure, in which the relics of innumerable raids lay scattered or heaped up in profusion. Drums, spears, swords, a.s.segais, bows and arrows, knives, ivory horns, ivory pestles, wooden idols, the wardrobes and paraphernalia of sorcerers, baskets, pots, hammers--thousands of things, useful and useless, bore witness to the Arabs' depredations. As he looked, a picture seemed to form itself in his mind. Through the darkness of night he sees stealthy, long-robed forms creep towards a sleeping village; no sound issuing from the gloom save the drowsy hum of cicadas or the croak of distant frogs; when suddenly the glare of torches gleams upon the huts, the thatch bursts into flame, and the scared sleepers wake amid the rattle of musketry, some to meet swift death with momentary pain, others--alas! the youngest, the strongest--to wear out their lives in the lingering death of slavery. Tom brushed his hands over his eyes, and begged the impa.s.sive Arab to take him away.

On the third morning of his stay in the village Tom observed that the chief was in a towering rage. He asked the physician, as the caravan again moved out westward, what was the cause of his master's disturbance. Mahmoud refused to explain. The truth was that one of the scouts despatched by the chief to the scene of his fight with Major Burnaby had returned with the news that he had discovered, on the bluff, the corpses of eight of the nine men placed there to hurl down the logs.

Up to that moment the chief had been entirely at a loss to account for the failure of the ambush so carefully arranged, and had only nursed vague suspicions. But the fact that the ambush had failed, as now reported, in the very first detail, coupled with the nonappearance of De Castro, whom he had expected to join him immediately after the battle, convinced the chief that he had been betrayed, and by his supposed friend, the Portuguese. Chewing the bitter cud of his wrath, Mustapha ordered his men to set off early in the morning, including in the caravan six hundred of the slaves.

Tom was no longer borne in a litter. The hakim had declared him well enough to walk. He was provided with a linen turban to protect his head, and with a gourd and wallet to hold water and food for the day.

That he was a prisoner was left in no doubt by the guard of six men, armed with loaded rifles, who marched with him, three in front and three behind. The six were changed every three hours, a precaution against any attempt on Tom's part to become too friendly with his guards, unnecessary in the circ.u.mstances, for when, from sheer tedium, he ventured to address a few words to them, they shook their heads in unfeigned ignorance of his meaning.

Indignant as he had been at the sight of the herded slaves in the village, his blood boiled at the scenes which met his gaze during the march, and his fingers itched to get to grips with the slave-traders.

"If I were only Hercules, or Samson, or any of the fabled giants of old!" he sighed, chafing at his impotence. The slaves were driven on without remorse or ruth, the heavy whip descending upon their shoulders or curling about their loins at any sign of lagging. Mothers carried their babies till they collapsed from exhaustion, strong youths fell, utterly spent, by the path-side. Some of the weaklings were butchered as they lay, the rest were left to die of famine, or perchance to be enslaved again if haply some Good Samaritan found them and nursed them back to strength.