by Talbot Mundy
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE DARKNESS COMPREHENDED IT NOT
When Kenia's peak glows gold and rose A dawn breeze whispers to the plain With breath cooled sweet by mountain snows-- "The darkness soon shall come again!" Stirs then the sleepless, lean Masai And stands o'er plain and peak at gaze Resentful of the bright'ning sky, Impatient of the white man's days.
Oh dark nights, when the charcoal glowed and falling hammers rang! When fundis* forged the spear-blades, and the warriors danced and sang! When the marriageable spearmen gathered, calling each to each Telling over proverbs that the tribal wisemen teach, Brother promising blood-brother partnership in weal and woe-- Nightlong stories of the runners come from spying on the foe-- Nights of boasting by the thorn-fire of the coming tale of slain-- Oh the times before the English! When will those times come again!
Oh the days and nights of raiding, when the feathered spearmen strode With the hide shields on their forearms, and the wild Nyanza road Grew blue with smoking villages, grew red with flaring roofs, Grew noisy with the shouting and the thunder of the hoofs As we drove the plundered cattle--when we burned the night with haste-- When we leapt at dawn from ambush--when we laid the shambas waste!
----------------*Fundis--skilled workman.----------------
Oh the new spears dipped in life-blood as the women shrieked in vain! Oh the days before the English! When will those days come again! Oh the homeward road in triumph with the plunder borne along On the heads of taken women! Oh the daughter and the song! Oh the tusks of yellow ivory--the frasilas of beads-- And, best of all, the heifers that the marriageable needs! The yells when village eyes at last our sky-line feathers see And the maidens run to count how many marriages shall be-- Ten heifers to a maiden (and the chief's girl stands for twain)-- Oh the days before the English! When will those days come again!
Now the fat herds grow in number, and the old are rich in trade, Now the grass grows green and heavy where the six-foot spears were made. Now the young men walk to market, and the wives have beads and wire-- Brass and iron--glass and cowrie--past the limit of desire. There is peace from lake to mountain, and the very zebra breed Where a law says none may hurt them (and the wise are they who heed!) Yea--the peace lies on the country as our herds oerspread the plain-- But the days before the English--when shall those days come again!
When Kenia's peak glows gold and rose A dawn breeze whispers to the plain With breath cooled sweet by mountain snows-- "The darkness soon shall come again!" Stirs then the sleepless, lean Masai And stands o'er plain and peak at gaze Resentful of the bright'ning sky, Impatient of the white man's days.
What first looked like a pleasant place dwindled into charmlessness andinsignificance as we approached. There was neatness--of a kind. Theround huts were confined to certain streets, and all inhabited bynatives. Arabs, Swahili, Indians, Goanese, Syrians, Greeks and so onhad to live in rectangular huts and keep to other streets. On onestreet, chiefly of stores, all the roofs were of corrugated iron. Andall the streets were straight, with shade trees planted down both sidesat exactly equal intervals.
But the German blight was there, instantly recognizable by any one notmentally perverted by German teaching. The place was governed--existedfor and by leave of government. The inhabitants were there onsuffrance, and aware of it--not in the very least degree enthusiasticover German rule, but awfully appreciative.
The first thing we met of interest on entering the township was achain-gang, fifty long, marching at top speed in step, led by a Nubiansoldier with a loaded rifle, flanked by two others, and pursued by afourth armed only with the hippo-hide whip, called kiboko by thenatives, that can cut and bruise at one stroke. He plied it liberallywhenever the gang betrayed symptoms of intending to slow down.
Those Nubiains, we learned later, were deserters from British Sudaneseregiments, and runaways from British jails, afraid to take thethousand-mile journey northward home again, scornful of all foreignblack men, fanatic Muhammedans, and therefore fine tools in the Germanhand. They worked harder than the chain-gang, for they had to marchwith it step for step and into the bargain force it to do its appointedlabor. The chain-gang kept the township clean--very clean indeed, asfar as outward appearance went.
The boma, or fort, was down by the water-front and its high easternwall, pierced by only one gate, formed one boundary of the drill-groundthat was also township square. Facing the wall on the eastern side ofthe square was a row of Indian and Arab stores. At the north end wasthe market building--an enormous structure of round stucco pillarssupporting a great grass roof; and facing that at the southern endwere the court-house, the hospital, and a store owned by the DeutchOest Africa Gesellschaft, known far and wide by its initials--a concernthat owned the practical monopoly of wholesale import and export trade,and did a retail business, too.
We went first to the hospital. Fred and Will lifted me out of thehammock, for my wound had grown much worse during the last few days,and the door being shut they set me down on the step. Then we sentKazimoto into the fort with a note to the senior officer informing himthat a European waited at the hospital in need of prompt medicaltreatment.
The sentry admitted Kazimoto readily enough, but he did not come outagain for half-an-hour, and then looked glum.
"Habanah!" he said simply, using the all-embracing native negative.
"Isn't any one in there?" we demanded all together.
"Surely."
"How many?"
"Very many."
"Officers?"
He nodded.
"Is a doctor there?"
He told us he had asked for the doctor. A soldier had pointed him out.He had placed the note in the doctor's hand.
"Did he read it?" we asked.
"Surely. He read it, and then showed it to the other officers."
"What did they say?"
"They laughed and said nothing."
It seemed pretty obvious that Kazimoto had made a mistake in some way.Perhaps he had visited the non-commissioned officers' mess.
"I'll go myself," announced Will. "I can sling the German language likea barkeep. Bet you I'm back here with a doctor inside of threeminutes!"
He strode off like Sir Galahad in football shorts, and was passedthrough the gate by the sentry almost unchallenged. But he was gonemore than fifteen minutes, and came back at last with his ears crimson.Nor would he answer our questions.
"Shall I go?" suggested Fred.
"Not unless you like insolence! We passed the camping-ground, itseems, on our way in. We've leave to pitch tents there. We'd betterbe moving."
So we trailed back the way we had come to a triangular sandy spaceenclosed by a cactus hedge at the junction of three roads. There wereseveral small grass-roofed shelters with open sides in there, and twotents already pitched, but we were not sufficiently interested justthen to see who owned the other tents. We pitched our own--stowed theloads in one of the shelters--gave our porters money for board andrations--and sent them to find quarters in the town. Another of theshelters we took over for a kitchen, and while our servants werecooking a meal we four gathered in Fred's tent and began to questionWill again.
"They've got a fine place in there," he said. "Neat as a new pin.Officers' mess. Non-commissioned officers' quarters. Stores.Vegetable garden. Jail--looks like a fine jail--hold a couple ofhundred. Government offices. Two-story buildings. Everything fine.The officers were all sitting smoking on a veranda.
"'Is one of you the doctor?' I asked in German, and a tall lean onewith a mighty mean face turned his head to squint at me: but he didn'ttake his feet off the rail. He looked inquisitive, that's all.
"'Are you the doctor?' I asked him.
"'I am staff surgeon,' he answered. 'What do you want?'
"I told him about your
wound, and how we'd marched about two hundredmiles on purpose to get medical assistance. He listened without askinga question, and when I'd done he said curtly that the hospital opensfor out-patients at eight in the morning.
"Well, I piled it on then. I told him your leg was so rotten that youmight not be alive to-morrow morning. He didn't even look interested.I piled it on thicker and told him about the poisoned spear. He didn'tbat an eyelid or make a move. So I started in to coax him.
"I did some coaxing. Believe me, I swallowed more pride in fiveminutes than I guessed I owned! A ward-heeler cadging votes for aMilwaukee alderman never wheedled more gingerly. I called him 'HerrStaff Surgeon' and mentioned the well-known skill of German medicos,and the keen sense of duty of the German army, and a whole lot of otherstuff.
"'Tomorrow morning at eight!' was all the answer I got from him.
"I reckon it was somewhere about that time I began to get rattled. Ipulled out money and showed it. He looked the other way, and when Iwent on talking he turned his back. I suspect he didn't dare keep onlookin' at money almost within reach. Anyhow, then I opened on him,firin' both bow guns. I dared him to sit there, with a patient in needof prompt attention less than two hundred yards away. I called himnames. I guaranteed to write to the German government and the UnitedStates papers about him. I told him I'd have his job if it cost me allmy money and a lifetime's trouble. He was just about ready toshoot--I'd just about got the red blood rising on his neck andears--when along came the commandant--der Herr Capitain--the officercommanding Muanza--a swag-bellied ruffian with a beard and a beery lookin his eye, but a voice like a man falling down three stories with allthe fire-irons.
"'What do you want?' he demanded in English, and I thanked him firstfor not having mistaken me for one of his own countrymen. Then I toldhim what I'd come for.
"'To-morrow at eight o'clock!' he snapped, after he'd had a word withthe medico. 'Meanwhile, make yourself scarce out of here! There is acamping-ground for the use of foreigners. You and your party go to it!If you do any damage there you will hear from me later!'
"I didn't come as easy as all that. I stood there telling him thingsabout Germany and Germans, and what I'd do to help his personalreputation with the home folks, until I guessed he had his craw as nearfull as he could stand it without having me arrested. Then I didcome--whistling Yankee-doodle. And say--Fred! Where's that concertinaof yours?"
Fred patted it. His beloved instrument was never far from hand.
"Why don't you play all the American and English tunes you knowto-night? Play and sing 'em, Britannia Rule the Waves--MarchingThrough Georgia--My Country 'tis of Thee--The Marseillaise--The BattleHymn of the Republic--and anything and everything you know thatSquareheads won't like. Let's make this camp a reg'lar--hello--seewho's here!"
Fred had begun fingering the keys already and the first strains ofMarching Through Georgia began to awake the neighborhood to recognitionof the fact that foreigners were present who held no especial brief forGerman rule. The tent-door darkened. Brown leapt to his feet andswore.
"Gassharamminy!" said a voice we all recognized instantly. "That tunesounds good! I've lived in the States! I'm a United States citizen!A man can't forget his own country's tunes so easily!"
Cool and impudent, Georges Coutlass entered and, without waiting for aninvitation, took a seat on a load of canned food. Brown grabbed thenearest rifle (it happened to be Fred's)--snapped open thebreach--discovered it was loaded--and took aim. Coutlass did not evenblink. He was either sure Fred and Will would interfere, or else atthe end of his tether and indifferent to death.
"Don't be an ass, Brown!"
Fred knocked the rifle up. Will took it away and returned it to thecorner.
"All very easy for you men to take high moral ground and all that sortof rot," Brown grumbled. "It's my cattle he took! It's me be'sruined! What do I care if the Germans hang me? Let me have a crack athim--just one!"
"Use your fists all you care to!" grinned Will.
But Brown was no match for the Greek without weapons--very likely nomatch for him with them. Coutlass sat still and grinned, while Brownremained in the back of the tent, glaring.
"Bah!" sneered Coutlass. "Of what use is being sulky? I found cattlein a village. How should I know whose cattle they were? Why blame me?The Masai got the cattle, not I! They took them from me, and they'dhave taken them from you just the same! You lost nothing by my liftingthem first! Gassharamminy! By blazes! We're all in the same boat!Let's be friendly, and treat one another like gentlemen! We're all inthe power of the Germans, unless we can think of a way to escape! Iand my party are under arrest. So will you be by to-morrow! I shalltell a tale to-morrow that will keep you by the heels for a month atleast while they investigate! Wait and see!"
"Get out of this tent!" growled Fred in the dead-level voice he useswhen he means to brook no refusal.
"Presently!"
Fred made a spring at him, but Coutlass was on his feet with the speedof a cat, and just outside the tent in time to avoid the swing ofFred's fist. He withdrew about two yards and stood there grinningmaliciously.
"You'll be glad to make terms with me by this time to-morrow!" heboasted. "By James, you'll be glad to have me for a friend! Listen,you fools! Make terms with me now; let us all go together and unearththat Tippoo Tib ivory, and I can arrange with these Germans to let usgo away! Otherwise, you shall see how long you stop here! By theTwelve Apostles! You shall rot in a German jail until your jointscreak!"
His Greek friend and the Goanese, supposing him in trouble perhaps,came and stood in line with him. Very comfortless they looked, and ofthe three only Coutlass had courage of a kind.
"They stole the cattle on the British side of the border," Will saidsotto voice. "No earthly use threatening them with German law."
"Keep away from our camp," Fred Ordered them, "or take theconsequences! Mr. Brown here is in no mood for pleasantries!"
"That drunkard Brown?" roared Coutlass. "He is in no mood for--oh,haw-hah-hee-ho-ha-ha-ha-ha! Drunkard Brown of Lumbwa wants to avengehimself, and his friends won't let him! Oh, isn't that a joke! Oh,ha-ha-ha-hee-hee-ha-ho-ho!"
His two companions made a trio of it, yelling with stage laughter likedisgusting animals. Fred took a short quick step forward. Willfollowed, and Brown reached for the rifle again. But I stopped allthree of them.
"Come back! Don't let's be fools!" I insisted. "I never saw a moreobvious effort to start trouble in my life! It's a trap! Keep out ofit!"
"Sure enough," Will admitted. "You're right!"
He returned into the tent and the Greeks, perhaps supposing he went forweapons, retreated, continuing to shout abuse at Brown who, between ayearning to get drunk and sorrow for his stolen cattle, was growingtearful.
"They got here first," I argued. "They've had time to tell their ownstory. That may account for our cold reception by the Germans. Hesays they're under arrest. That may be true, or it may be a trick.It's perfectly obvious Coutlass wanted to start a fight, and I'm deadsure he wasn't taking such a chance as it seemed. Who wants to lookbehind the cactus hedge and see whether he has friends in ambush?"
"Drunkard Brown is on the town--on the town--on the town!" roaredCoutlass and his friends from not very far away.
"Oh, let me go and have a crack at 'em!" begged Brown. "I tell you Idon't care about jail! I don't care if I do get killed!"
Fred kept a restraining hand on him. Will left the tent and walkedstraight for the gap in the cactus hedge by which we had entered theenclosure. It was only twenty yards away.
Once through the gap he glanced swiftly to right and left--laughed--andcame back again.
"Only six of 'em!" he grinned. "Six full-sized Nubians in uniform,with army boots on, no bayonets or rifles, but good big sticks andhandcuffs! If we'd touched those Greeks they'd have jumped the fenceand stretched us out! What the devil d'you suppose they want us injail for?"
"
D'you suppose they think," I said, "that if they had us in jail inthis God-forsaken place we'd divulge the secret of Tippoo's ivory?"
"Why don't we tell 'em the secret!" suggested Will, and that seemedsuch a good idea that we laughed ourselves back into good temper--evenBrown, who had no notion whether we knew the secret, being perfectlysure we would not be such fools as to tell the true whereabouts of thehoard in any case.
"I want to get even with all Africa!" he grumbled. "I want to maketrouble that'll last! I'd start a war this minute if I knew how! Ifit weren't for those bloody Greeks laughing at me I'd get more drunkto-night than any ten men in the world ever were before in history!Yes, sir! And my name's Brown of Lumbwa to prove I mean what I say!"
After a while, seeing that no trouble was likely, the Nubian soldierscame out of ambush and marched away. We ate supper. The Greeks andthe Goanese subsided into temporary quiet, and our own boys, squattingby a fire they had placed so that they could watch the Greeks'encampment, began humming a native song. Their song reminded Fred ofWill's earlier suggestion, and he unclasped the concertina.
Then for three-quarters of an hour he played, and we sang all the tuneswe knew least likely to make Germans happy, repeating The Marseillaiseand Rule Britannia again and again in pious hope that at least a fewbars might reach to the commandant's house on the hill.
Whether they did or not--whether the commandant writhed as we hoped inthe torture of supreme insult, or slept as was likely from theafter-effect of too much bottled beer with dinner--there were otherswho certainly did hear, and made no secret of it.
To begin with, the part of the township nearest us was the quarter ofround grass roofs, where the aborigines lived; and the Bantu heartresponds to tuneful noise, as readily as powder to the match. All thatsection of Muanza, man, woman and child, came and squatted outside thecactus hedge. (It was streng politzeilich verboten for natives toenter the European camping-ground, so that except when they wanted tosteal they absolutely never trespassed past the hedge.)
Enraptured by the unaccustomed strains they sat quite still until someSwahili and Arabs came and beat them to make room. When the struggleand hot argument that followed that had died down, Indians begancoming, and other Greeks, until most of the inhabitants of the easternside of town were either squatting or standing or pacing to and frooutside the camping-ground.
At last rumor of what was happening reached the D.O.A.G.--the store atthe corner of the drill-ground, where it seemed the non-commissionedofficers took their pleasure of an evening. Pleasure, except as laiddown in regulations, is not permitted in German colonies to any exceptwhite folk. No less than eight German sergeants and a sergeant-major,all the worse for liquor, turned out as if to a fire and came downstreet at a double.
They had kibokos in their hands. The first we heard of their approachwas the crack-crack-crack of the black whips falling on naked orthin-cotton-clad backs and shoulders. There was no yelling (it was notallowed after dark on German soil, at least by natives) but a suddenpattering in the dust as a thousand feet hurried away. Then, in theglow of our lamplight, came the sergeant-major standing spraddle-leggedin front of us.
He was a man of medium height, in clean white uniform. The first thingI noticed about him was the high cheek-bones and murderous blue eyes,like a pig's. His general build was heavy. The fair mustache made noattempt to conceal fat lips that curled cruelly. His general air wasthat most offensive one to decent folk, of the bully who wouldingratiate by seeming a good fellow.
"'nabnd, meine Herren!" he said aggressively, with a smile more thanhalf made up of contempt for courtesy. "Ich heiess Schubert-FeldwebelHans Schubert."
"Wass wollen Sie?" Will asked. He was the only one of us who knewGerman well.
But Schubert, it seemed, knew English and was glad to show it off.
"You make fine music! Ach! Up at the D.O.A.G. very near here weUnteroffitzieren spend the evening, all very fond of singing, yetwithout music at all. Will you not come and play with us?"
"I only know French and English tunes!" lied Fred.
"Ach! I do not believe it! Kommen Sie! There is beer at theD.O.A.G.--champagne--brandy--whisky--rum--?"
"I'm going, then, for one!" announced Brown, getting up immediately.
"Cigars--cigarettes--tobacco," the sergeant-major continued. "There isno closing time." He saw that the line of argument was not tempting,and changed his tactics. "Listen! You gentlemen have not too manyfriends in Muanza! I speak in friendship. I invite you on behalf ofmyself and other Unteroffitzieren to spend gemuthlich evening with us.That can do you no harm! In the course of friendly conversation muchcan be learned that official lips would not tell!
"Kommen Sie nun!"
"Let's go!" I said. "My leg hurts like hell. If I stay here I can'tsleep. Anything to keep from thinking about it! Besides, some onemust go and look after Brown!"
"Who'll watch those Greeks?" Fred demanded. "They'd as soon steal aseat!"
"We'd better all stay here together," said Will, "and take turnskeeping watch till morning." He said it with a straight face, but Idid not think he was in earnest.
"Ach!" exclaimed Schubert. "That is all ganz einfach! You shall haveaskaris!"
He turned and shouted an order. A non-commissioned officer wentrunning back up-street.
"You shall have three askaris to guard your camp. So nothing whatevershall be stolen! Then come along and make music--seien Sie gemuthlich!Yah?"
Brown had already gone, jingling money in his pocket. We waited untilthe Nubian soldiers came--saw them posted--and then walked up-streetbehind the sergeants, Schubert leading us all, and I limping betweenFred and Will. They as good as carried me the last half of the way.
The sergeants marched with the air peculiar to military Germans, of menwho are going to be amused. They said nothing--did not smile--butstrode straight forward, three abreast, swinging their kibokos with asort of elephantine sporty air. They were men of all heights andthicknesses, but each alike impressed me with the Prussian militarymold that leaves a man no imagination of his own, and no virtue, butonly an animal respect for whatever can make to suffer, or appease anappetite.
The D.O.A.G. proved a mournful enough lounging place in which to spendconvivial evenings. However, it seemed that when the sergeant-majorhad decreed amusement the non-commissioned officers' mess overlookedall trifles in brave determination to obey. They marched in, hummingtunes (each a different one, and nearly all high tenor) and took seatsin a room at the rear of the building with their backs against amud-brick wall that was shiny from much rubbing by drill tunics.
Down the center was a narrow table, loaded with drinks of all sorts. Acase of bottled beer occupied the place of pride at one end; asSchubert had boasted, nothing was lacking that East Africa could showin the way of imported alcohol. Under the table was an unopened caseof sweet German champagne, and on a little table against one wall weresuch things as absinth, chartreuse, peppermint, and benedictine.Soda-water was slung outside the window in a basket full of wet grasswhere the evening breeze would keep it cool.
"Now for Gesang!" shouted Schubert, knocking the neck off a bottle ofbeer, and beginning to sing like a drunken pirate.
A man whom he introduced as "a genuine Jew from Jerusalem" came outfrom a gloomy recess filled with tusks and sacks of dried red pepper,and watched everything from now on with an eye like a gimlet, writingdown in a book against each sergeant's name whatever he took to drink.They appeared to have no check on him. Nobody signed anything. Nobodyas much as glanced at his account.
"What is the use?" said Schubert, noticing my glance and interpretingthe unspoken question. "There is just so much drink in the wholeplace. We shall drink every drop of it! All that matters is, who isto pay for the champagne? That stuff is costly."
They all took beer to begin with, knocking the necks from the bottlesas if that act alone lent the necessary air of deviltry to the wholeproceedings. A small, very black Nyamwesi came with
brush and pan andgroped on the floor all night for the splinters of glass, sleepingbetween times in a corner until a fresh volley of breaking bottle necksawoke him to work again.
"Die Wacht am Rhein!" yelled Schubert. "Start it up! Sing thatfirst!" He began to sing it himself, all out of tune.
Fred cut the noise short by standing up to play something nobody couldsing to a jangling clamor of chords and runs on which he prideshimself, that he swears is classical, but of which neither he noranybody knows the name. Then he drank some beer and sang a comic songor two in English, we joining in the choruses.
Meanwhile, Brown was soaking away steadily, taking whatever drink camefirst to hand, and having no interest whatever in anything but the taskof assuaging the thirst he had accumulated in the course of all thatlong marching since he left home. He had forgotten his cattlealready--the Greeks who stole them--the Masai who stole from theGreeks. He paid for all he took, to the Jew's extreme surprise andsatisfaction, and grumbled at the price of everything, to the Jew'ssupremest unconcern.
"An' my name's Brown o' Lumbwa, just in proof of all I say!" heinformed the room at large at intervals.
When Will had exhausted all the American songs he knew, and Fred hadrun through his own long list there was nothing left for it but to makeup accompaniments to the songs the sergeants had been raised on. Fredmade the happy discovery that none of them knew The Marseillaise, so heplayed that as an antidote each time after they had made the hard-woodrafters ring and the smoke-filled air vibrate with Teutonic jingoism.The Jew, who probably knew more than he cared to admit, grew more andmore beady-eyed each time The Marseillaise was played.
There was a pause in the proceedings at about ten o'clock, by whichtime all the sergeants except Schubert were sufficiently drunk to feelthoroughly at ease. Schubert was cold-eyed sober, although scarcelyany longer thirsty.
A native was brought in by two askaris and charged before Schubert withhanging about the boma gate after dark. He was asked the reason. TheJew, sitting beside me with his book of names and charges, poured coolwater over my bandages and translated to me what they all said. Hespoke English very well indeed, but in such low tones that I couldscarcely catch the words, drawing in his breath and not moving his lipsat all.
The native explained that he had waited to see the bwana makubwa--thecommandant. He had nowhere to go and no money with which to pay forlodging, so he proposed to wait outside the gate and watch for thecoming of the commandant next morning. He would intercept him on hisway down from the white house on the hill.
He was asked why. To beg a favor. What favor? Satisfaction. Forwhat? For his daughter. He was the father of the girl whom thecommandant had favored with attentions. She had been a virgin. Nowshe was to have a child. It would be a half-black, half-white child.Who would now marry a woman with such a child as that? Yet nothing badbeen given her. She had been simply sent back home to be a charge onher parents and an already poverty-stricken village. Therefore he hadcome to ask that justice be done, and the girl be given at least apresent of money.
The sergeants roared with laughter, all except Schubert, who seemedonly appalled by the impudence of the request. He sat back and orderedthe story repeated.
"And you dare ask for money from the bwana makubwa!" he demanded."You dog of a Nyamwesi! Is the honor not sufficient that your blackbrute of a daughter should have a baby by such a great person? Youcattle have no sense of honor! You must learn! Put him down! Beathim till I say stop!"
There was no need to put him down, however. The motion of the hand,voice inflection, order were all too well understood. The man layface-downward on the floor without so much as a murmur of objection,and buried his face in both hands. The askaris promptly stripped himof the thin cotton loin-cloth that constituted his only garment,tearing it in pieces as they dragged it from him.
"Go on!" ordered Schubert. "Beat him!"
Both the askaris had kibokos. The longest of the two was split at thenether end into four fingers. The shortest was more than a yard long,tapering from an inch and a half where the man's fist gripped it tohalf an inch thick at the tip. They stood one each side of theirvictim and brought the whips down on his naked skin alternately.
"Slowly!" ordered Schubert. "Slowly, and with all your strength! Thebrute doesn't feel it when you beat so fast! Let him wait for theblow! Don't let him know when it's coming! So--so is better!"
Not every blow drew blood, for a native's skin is thick and tough,especially where he sits. But the blows that fell on the back andthighs all cut the skin, and within two minutes the native's back was abloody mass, and there was blood running on the floor, and splashes ofblood on the whitewashed wall cast by the whips as they ascended.
I made up my mind the man was going to be killed, for Schubert gave noorder and the askaris did not dare stop without one. The victimwrithed, but did not cry out, and the writhing grew less. Even Brownsobered up for a time at the sight of it. He came and sat between meand the Jew.
"It's a shame!" he grumbled. "Up in our country twenty-five lashes isthe masshimum, an' only to be laid on in the presence of amassishtrate. You beat a black man an' they'll fine you first offense,jail you second offense, an' third offense God knows what they'll do!Poor ole Brown o' Lumbwa! They fined me once a'ready. Nessht timethey'll put me in jail! Better get quite drunk an' be blowed to it!"
He staggered back to his chair by the farther wall, leering at Schubertas he passed.
"You're no gentleman!" he asserted aggressively. "You're no better 'na black man yourself! You ought-to-be-on-floor 'stead o' him!Dunno-how-behave-yourself! Take your coat off, an' come outside, an'fight like a man!"
Schubert gave the order to stop at last. The askaris stood aside,panting from the effort.
"Get up!" ordered Schubert.
The miserable Nyamwesi struggled to his feet and stood limply beforeSchubert, his back running blood and his face drawn with torture.
"Don't you know how to behave!" demanded Schubert.
The native made no answer.
"If you don't salute properly I'll order you thrown down and thrashedagain!"
The native saluted in a sort of imitation of the German military manner.
"Now, will you lie in wait for the bwana makubwa to trouble him withyour pig's affairs again?"
"No."
"Will you go back home?"
"Yes."
"You've learned a lesson, eh?"
"Yes.
"Then say thank you!"
"Thank you!"
"Rrruksa!"* [*Ruksa, you have leave to go.]
The poor wretch turned and went, staggering rather than walking, to thedoor and disappearing into outer darkness without a backward glance.
"Now for some more songs and a round of drinks!" Schubert shouted.
But Fred was no longer in mood to make music, or even to be civil. Heshut the concertina up, and asked the Jew how much he owed. Thesergeants went on singing without music, and while we waited for theJew to reckon up Fred's score Schubert came over to us, sat downbetween me and Fred, and proceeded to deal with the new situation inproper German military manner, by direct assault.
"Always you English criticize!" he began. "Can you never travelwithout applying your cursed standards to everything you behold? Itell you, we Germans know how to rule these black people! Weunderstand! We employ no sickly sentiment! We give orders--they obey,or else suffer terribly and swiftly! In that manner we arrive atknowing where we are!"
"Are you well loved by the people?" Fred asked him politely.
"Bah! Sie wollen wohl beliebt werden!* Not I! Not we! Of what valueis the love of such people? Their fear is what we cultivate! Havingmade them afraid of us, we successfully make them work our will! Butwhy should I trouble to explain? In a few years there will only be onegovernment of Africa! One, I tell you, and that German! You Englishare not fit to govern colonies! You are mawkishly sentimental! Youthink more of the feelings of a
black man and of the rights of hiswomen than of progress--advancement--kultur! Bah! I tell you theyhave no feelings a real man need consider! They are only fit forfurthering the aims of us Germans! And their women have no rights!None whatever! You know, I suppose, that it is the policy of theGerman government to encourage the spread of Muhammedanism in Africa?Well, under the Muhammedan law as given in the Koran women have nosouls! That is good! That is as it should be! No women have souls!"
------------*You want to be popular, don't you!------------
"How about your own mother?" Fred suggested.
"She was a good Prussian! She was a super-woman! Not to be mentionedin the same breath with women of any other race! Yet even she--thegood Prussian mother--could not hold a candle to a man! Her businesswas to raise sons for Prussia, and she did it! I have eight brothers,all in the army, and only one sister; she has four sons already!"
"Strange that your nation should breed like that!" said Fred.
"Not strange at all!" answered Schubert. "We are needed to conquer theworld! Think, for instance, when we have conquered the Congo FreeState, and taken away East and South Africa from England--to saynothing of Egypt and India!--how many Prussian sergeant-majors we shallwant! Donnerwetter! Do you think we Germans will long be satisfiedwith this miserable section of East Africa that was all the Englishleft to us on this coast? We use this for a foothold, that is all! Weuse this to gain time and get ready! You think perhaps I do not know,eh? I am only feldwebel--non-commissioned officer, you call it. Welland good. I tell you our officers talk all the time of nothing else!And they don't care who hears them!"
The Jew gave Fred his bill, scrawled on a piece of wrapping paper.Schubert snatched it away and crumpled it into a ball.
"Kreutzblitzen! You are my guests to-night! I invited you!"
"Thanks" Fred answered, "but we don't care to be your guests. Here,"he said, turning to the Jew, "take your money!"
Schubert said nothing, but eyed the Jew with a perfectly blank face, asif he watched to see whether the man would damn himself or not.
"Take your money!" repeated Fred. But the Jew turned his back andbusied himself with bottles at the side-table.
"He knows better!" Schubert laughed. "He understands by this time ourGerman hospitality!"
"All right," answered Fred. "We'll go out without paying!"
"Not at all," retorted Schubert. "The mess shall pay bill in full!You stay here until I have said what I have to say to you! The rest ofyour party may go, but you stay! You can explain to the othersafterward."
He leaned forward, reached a bottle of beer off the table, knocked offthe neck, and emptied the contents down his throat at a draught.Behind his back we exchanged glances.
"I'll listen," said Fred.
"You alone?"
"No, we all stay. All or none!"
Schubert made a contemptuous gesture with his thumb toward Brown, whohad fallen dead drunk on the floor.
"Will that one stay, too?"
"He is not of our party really," Fred answered. "He knows nothing ofour affairs."
"You men are in trouble--worse trouble than you guess!"
Schubert looked with his cruel blue eyes into each of ours in turn,then stared straight in front of him and waited.
"I don't believe it," Fred answered. "We have done nothing to merittrouble."
"Merit in this world is another name for chance!" said Schubert.
"What are we supposed to have done?" demanded Fred.
Schubert at once assumed what was intended to be a sly look, ofuncommunicable knowledge.
"None of my business to tell what my officers know," he answered. "Asfor that, time will no doubt disclose much. The point is--trouble canbe forestalled."
"Aw--show your hand!" cut in Will, leaning in front of Fred. "I'veseen you Heinies fishing for graft too often in the States not torecognize symptoms! Spill the bait can! There's no other way to tellif we'll bite! Tell us what you're driving at!"
"Ivory!" said Schubert savagely and simply, shutting his jaws after theword like a snap with a steel spring. It would have broken the teethof an ordinary human.
"What ivory?"
We all did our best to look blank.
"You know! Tippoo Tib's ivory! It belongs to the German government!Emin Pasha, whom that adventurer Stanley rescued against his will,agreed to sell the secret to us, but we never agreed on a price and hedied without telling. Gott! He would have told had I had theinterviewing of him! It was known in Zanzibar that you and a certainEnglish lord shared the secret. You have been watched. You are knownto be in search of the stuff."
"The deuce you say!" Fred murmured, with a glance to left and right atus.
"If you were to go to the office to-morrow, and tell our commandantwhat you know," said Schubert, "you might be suitably compensated. Youwould certainly be given facilities for leaving the country in comfortat your leisure."
"Who told you to promise us that?" Fred demanded, turning on him.
The feldwebel did not answer, but sat with his legs straight out infront of him, his heels together, and the palms of his hands touchingbetween his knees. The sergeants were all singing, smoking anddrinking. The Jew was back at his old post, watching every one withgimlet eyes.
"Think it over!" said Schubert, getting up. "There is time untilmorning. There is time until you leave this building. After that--"He shrugged his square shoulders brutally.
There was no sense in going out at once, as we had intended, with thatcombination of threat and promise hanging over us.
"Why not do what we said--admit that we know what we don't know--andput 'em on the wrong scent?" Will whispered.
"I wish to God Monty were here!" groaned Fred.
"Rot!" Will answered. "Monty is all you ever said of him and thensome; but we're able to handle this ourselves all right without him.Tell 'em a bull yarn, I say!"
Fred relapsed into a sort of black gloom intended to attract the Museof Strategy. He was always better at swift action in the open andoptimism in the face of visible danger, than at matching wits againstsomething he could not see beginning or end of.
"Tell 'em it's in German East!" urged Will. "Offer to lead them to iton certain conditions. Think up controversial proposals! Play fortime!"
Fred shook his head.
"What if it turns out true? Monty's in Europe. Suppose he shouldlearn while he's there that the stuff is really in German East--we'dhave spoiled his game!"
"If the stuff should really be in German East," Will argued, "we've nochance in the world of getting even a broker's share of it, Monty or noMonty! Take my advice and tell 'em what they want to know!"
Meanwhile an argument of another kind had started across the room.Schubert had related with grim amusement to Sergeant Sachse, who wassitting next him, our disapproval of the flogging of the father of thecommandant's abandoned woman.
"At what were they shocked?" wondered Sachse. "At the flogging, or theintercourse, or because he sent the female packing when she proposed tohave a child? Do they not know that to have children about thepremises would be subversive of military excellence?"
"They were shocked at all three things," grinned Schubert, "butchiefly, I think, at the flogging."
"Bah! Such a tickling of a native's hide doesn't hurt him to speak of!Wait until they see our court in the morning!"
It was that that raised the clamor. Even Schubert, who might besupposed to have won promotion because he could stay sober longer thanthe others, was beginning to grow noisy in his speech and to laughwithout apparent reason. The rest were all already frankly drunk, andany excuse for dispute was a good one. They one and all, includingSchubert, denied Sachse's contention that a flogging did not hurtenough to matter.
"I bet I could take one without winking!" Sachse announced.
Schubert's little bright pig-eyes gleamed through the smoke at that.
"Kurtz und gut!" he laughed. "There is a case of ch
ampagne unopened.I bet you that case of champagne that you lie! That you can not take aflogging!"
There was an united yelp of delight. The sergeants rose and gatheredround Sachse. Schubert cursed them and drove them to the chairs again.
"Open that case of champagne!" he roared, and the Jew obeyed, settingthe bottles on the table in two rows.
"I bet you those twelve bottles you dare not take a regular flogging,and that you can not endure it if you dare try!"
"I can stand as much as you!" hedged Sachse.
"Good! We will see! We will both take a flogging--stroke for stroke!Whoever squeals first shall pay for the champagne!"
Sachse could not back out. His cheeks grew whiter, but he staggered tohis feet, swearing.
"I will show you of what material a German sergeant is made!" heboasted. "It is not only Prussians who are men of metal! Howshall it be arranged?"
The arrangement was easy enough. Schubert shouted for an askari, andthe corporal who was doing police duty outside in the street camerunning. He had a kiboko in his hand almost a yard and a half long,and Schubert examined it with approval.
"How would you like to flog white men?" he demanded.
"I would not dare!" grinned the corporal.
"Not dare, eh? Would you not obey an order?"
"Always I obey!" the man answered, saluting.
"Good. I shall lie here. This other bwana shall lie there beside me.You shall stand between. First you shall strike one, then theother--turn and turn about until I give the order to cease! Andlisten! If you fail once--just one little time!--to flog with all yourmight, you shall have two hundred lashes yourself; and they shall begood ones, because I will lay them on! Is it understood?"
"Yes," said the corporal, the whites of his eyes betraying doubt, fearand wonder. But he grinned with his lips, lest the feldwebel shouldsuspect him of unwillingness.
"Are the terms understood?" demanded Schubert, and the sergeants yelpedin the affirmative.
"Then choose a referee!"
One of the sergeants volunteered for the post. Schubert lay down onthe floor, and Sachse beside him about four feet away. The corporaltook his stand between. He was an enormous Nubian, broad of chest,with the big sloping shoulder muscles that betray double the strengththat tailors try to suggest with jackets padded to look square.
"Nun--recht feste schlagen!"* ordered Schubert. Then he took the sleeveof his tunic between his teeth and hid his face. [*Now, hit good andhard!]
"One!" said the referee. Down came the heavy black whip with a cracklike a gun going off. Schubert neither winced nor murmured, but theblood welled into the seat of his pants and spread like red ink onblotting-paper.
"'One!" said the referee again. The corporal faced about, and raisedhis weapon, standing on tiptoe to get more swing. Sachse flinched atthe sound of the whip going up, and the other sergeants roared delight.But he was still when it descended, and the crack of the blow drewneither murmur nor movement from him either. Like the feldwebel, hehad his sleeve between his teeth.
"Two!" said the referee, and the black whip rose again. It descendedwith a crack and a splash on the very spot whence the blood flowed,this time cutting the pants open, but Schubert took no more notice ofit than if a fly had settled on him. There was a chorus of applause.
"Two!" said the referee. Again the corporal faced about and balancedhimself on tiptoe. Sachse was much the more nervous of the two. Heflinched again while waiting for the blow, but met it when it did comewithout a tremor of any kind. He was much the softer. Blood flowedfrom him more freely, but his pants seemed to be of sterner stuff, forthey did not split until the eight-and-twentieth lash, or thereabouts.
From first to last, although the raw flesh lay open to the lash, andthe corporal, urged to it by the united threats and praise of all theother sergeants, wrought his utmost, Schubert lay like a man asleep.He might have been dead, except for the even rise and fall of hisbreathing, that never checked or quickened once. Nine-and-fortystrokes he took without a sign of yielding. At the eight-and-fortiethSachse moaned a little, and the referee gave the match against him.Schubert rose to his feet unaided, grinning, red in the face, butwithout any tortured look.
"Now you can say forever that you have flogged two white men!" he toldthe askari.
"Who will believe me?" the man answered.
Sachse had to be helped to his feet. He was pale and demanded brandy.
"What did I tell you?" laughed Schubert. "A Prussian is better thanany man! Look at him, and then at me!"
He shouted for his servant, who had to be fetched from the boma--asmug-faced little rascal, obviously in love with the glory reflected onthe sergeant-major's servant. He was made to produce a basin and coldwater--he discovered them somewhere in the dim recesses of thestore--and sponge his master's raw posterior before us all. Then hewas sent for clean white pants and presently Schubert, only refusing tosit down, was quite himself again.
Sachse on the other hand refused the ministrations of the boy--wasannoyed by the chaff of the other sergeants--refused to drink any ofthe sweet champagne he would now have to pay for--and went away ingreat dudgeon, murmuring about the madness that takes hold of men inAfrica.
Meanwhile, while Schubert strutted and swaggered, making jokes more rawand beastly than his own flogged hide, the Jew came and poured morecool water on my hot bandages, touching them with deft fingers thatlooked like the hairy legs of a huge spider--his touch moregentle--more fugitive than any woman's.
"You should not tell zat dam feldwebel nozink!" he advised in nasalEnglish. "Nefer mind vat you tell heem he is all ze same not yourfrien. He only obey hees officers. Zey say to cut your troat--he cutit! Zey say to tell you a lot o' lies--he tell! He iss not a t'inker,but a doer: and hees faforite spectacle iss ze blood of innocence! Donot effer say I did not tell you! On ze ozzer hand, tell no one zat Idid tell! Zese are dangerous people!"
He resumed business with his account book, and I whispered to Fred andWill what advice he had given. Seeing us with our heads together,Schubert crossed the room, beginning to get very drunk now that theshock of the flogging had had time to reinforce the alcohol. (Theblows had sobered him at first.)
"What have you decided?" he asked, standing before us with his legsapart and his hands behind him in his favorite attitude--swaying gentlyback and forward because of the drink, and showing all his teeth in agrin.
"Nothing," Fred answered. "We'll think it over."
"Too late in the morning!" he answered, continuing to sway. "I can donothing for you in the morning."
"What can you do to-night?" Fred asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I can report. The report will go in atdawn."
"You may tell your superiors," Fred answered, rising, "that if theycare to make us a reasonable offer, I don't say we won't do business!"
Schubert leered.
"To-morrow will be too late!" he repeated.
It was Fred's turn to shrug shoulders, and he did it inimitably,turning his back on Schubert and helping Will support me to the door.The feldwebel stood grinning while I held to the doorpost and theydragged Brown to his feet. He made no offer to help us in any way atall, nor did any of the sergeants.
There was no getting action from Brown. He was as dead to the world asa piece of wood, and there being no other obvious solution of theproblem, Will hoisted him upon his back and carried him, he snoring,all the way home to camp. Fred hoisted and carried me, for the pain ofmy wound when I tried to walk was unbearable.
We reached camp abreast and were challenged by the sentries, who made agreat show of standing guard. They took Brown and threw him on the bedin his own tent--accepted Fred's offer of silver money--and departed,marching up-street in their heavy, iron-bound military boots with theswing and swagger only the Nubian in all the world knows just how toget away with.
I lay on the bed in Fred's tent, and then Kazimoto came to us, hugelytroubled about something, sti
rring the embers of the fire before thetent and arranging the lantern so that its rays would betray anyeavesdropper. He searched all the shadows thoroughly, prodding intothem with a stick, before he unburdened his mind.
"Those askaris were not put here to guard our tents," he told us. (Thereally good native servant when speaking of his master's propertyalways says our, and never your.) "As soon as you were gone the Greeksand the Goa came. They and the askaris questioned me. It was a trick!You were drawn away on purpose! One by one--two by two--theyquestioned us all, but particularly me."
"What about?" Fred demanded.
"About our business. Why are we here. What will we do. What do weknow. What do I know about you. What do you know about me. Why do Iserve you. How did I come to take service with you. To what placewill we travel next, and when. How much money have we with us. Havewe friends or acquaintances in Muanza. Do you, bwana, carry anyletters in your pockets. Of what do you speak when you suppose no manis listening. Bwana, my heart is very sad in me! Those Greeks telllies, and the Germans stir trouble in a big pot like the witches! Iknow the Germans! I am Nyamwezi. I was born not far from here, andran away as soon as I was old enough because the Germans shot my fatherand let my mother and brothers starve to death. I did not starve,because one of them took me for a servant; but I ran away from him.My heart is very sad to be in this place! They ask what of a hoard ofivory. I tell them I do not know, and they threaten to beat me! Thisplace is bad! Let us go away to-night!"
There was no sleep that night for any of us. My wound hurt too much.The others were too worried. By the light of the lantern in Fred'stent we cooked up a story to tell that we hoped would induce theGermans to let us wander where we chose.
"Sure, they'll watch us!" Will admitted. "But as our only real reasonfor coming down here--leaving Brown's cattle out of the reckoning--wasto throw people off the scent, in what way are we worse off? The lakeis big enough to lose ourselves in! What is it--two hundred and fiftymiles long by as many broad? D'you mean we can't give their sleuthsthe slip? We can't beat that for a plan: let 'em keep on thinking weknow where Tippoo hid the stuff. If we succeed in losing 'em they'llthink we're at large in German East and keep on hunting for us--whereaswe'll really be up in British East. Let's send a telegram in code toMonty!"
Then Fred thought of an idea that in the end solved our biggestproblem, although we did not think much of it at the time.
"They may refuse to take a telegram in code," he said. "It's likelythey'll open letters. (We can try the code, of course. They'llprobably take our money, and put their experts on deciphering themessage. They'll say it was lost if there are any inquiriesafterward.) I propose we send a straight-out cablegram advising Montyof our whereabouts (they'll let that go through) and warning him to askfor letters at the Bank in Mombasa before he does anything else."
"Yes, but--" Will objected.
"Wait!" said Fred. "I haven't finished. Then write two letters: onefull of any old nonsense, to be sent in the regular way by mail.They'll open that. The other to go by runner. Kazimoto can find us arunner. He knows these Wan-yamwezi. He can pick a man who'll getthrough without fail."
We could think of nothing to say against the plan. The argument thatthe German government would scarcely stoop to opening private mail didnot seem to hold water when we examined it, so we wrote as Fredsuggested--one letter telling Monty that we hoped to make somearrangement with the Germans, and at all events to wait in German Eastuntil he could join us--and the other telling him the real facts atgreat length, laboriously set out in the code we had agreedupon.
We sealed the second letter in several wrappers, and sewed it upfinally in a piece of waterproof silk. Then we sent for Kazimoto andordered him to find the sort of messenger we needed.
"Send me!" he urged. "I will start now, before it is light! I willhide by day and travel by night until I reach the British border! Giveme only enough cooked food and my pay and I will take the letterwithout fail!"
We refused, for he was too useful to us. He begged again and again tobe sent with the letter, promising faithfully to wait for us afterwardon the British side of the border at any place we should name. But weupbraided him for cowardice, ordered him to find another messenger, andpromised him he need have no fear of Germans as long as he remained ourservant.
Before high noon we would each have given many years of Kazimoto's payif only we could have recalled that decision and have known that he wasspeeding away from Muanza toward a border where white men knew the useof mercy.
Just as the first peep of dawn began to color the sky Schubert cameswaggering down-street to us, wiping his mouth with the back of hishand.
"How have you slept?" he asked us, laughing.
We answered something or other.
"I did not trouble to sleep! I stayed and finished the drinks. I havejust swallowed the last of the beer! Whoever wants a morning drinkmust wait for it now until the overland safari comes!"
We displayed no interest. Brown, the only one likely to yearn foralcohol before breakfast, snored in his still.
"What of it now? I go drill my troops. Parade is sharp! There remaintwenty minutes. Come with me tell your secret at the boma now, beforeit is too late!"
"Explain why it would be too late after breakfast!" demanded Fred.
"All right," said Schubert. "I will tell you this much. There willcome a launch this morning from Kisumu in British East. There will bepeople on that launch, one of whom has authority that overrides that ofthe commandant of this place. The commandant desires to know yourinformation--and get the credit for it--before that individual, whoseauthority is higher, comes. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," Fred answered.
"See if this is clear, too!" cut in Will. "You go and ask yourcommandant what price he offers for the secret! Nothing for nothing!Tell him we're not afraid of him!"
"It is none of my business to tell him anything," sneered Schubert,spitting and turning on his heel. He swaggered out of thecamping-ground and up-street again, leaving the clear impression behindhim that he washed his hands of us for good and all.
"Let's watch him drill his men," said I. "I'll wait on the hospitalsteps until they open the place."
So we ate a scratch breakfast and Fred and Will helped me up-street,past where the Jew stood blinking in the morning sun on the steps ofthe D.O.A.G. He seemed to be saying prayers, but beckoned to us.
"Trouble!" he said. "Trouble! If you have any frien's fetchthem--send for them!"
"Can yon send a letter for us to British East?" Fred asked him.
"God forbid!" He jumped at the very thought, and shrugged himself likea man standing under a water-spout. "What would they do to me if Iwere found out?"
"What is the nature of the trouble?" Fred asked him.
"Ali, who should tell! Trouble, I tell you, trouble! Zat cursedSchubert sat here drinking until dawn. I heard heem say many t'ings!Send for your friens!"
He turned his back on us and ran in. There was a lieutenant arrayed inspotless white with a saber in glittering scabbard watching us all fromthe boma gate. A little later that morning we knew better why the Jewfled indoors at sight of him.
Schubert was standing in mid-square with a hundred askaris lined uptwo-deep in front of him. There were no other Germans on parade. Thecorporals were Nubians, and the rest of the rank and file either Nubianor some sort of Sudanese. He was haranguing them in a bastard mixtureof Swahili, Arabic, and German, they standing rigidly at attention,their rifles at the present.
Not content with the effect of his words, he strode up presently to afront-rank man and hit him in the face with clenched fist. In theeffort to recover his balance the man let his rifle get out ofalignment. Schubert wrenched it from him. It fell to the ground. Hestruck the man, and when he stooped to pick the rifle up kicked him inthe face. Then he strode down the line and beat two other men forgrinning. All this the lieutenant watched without a sign
ofdisapproval, or even much interest.
Meanwhile the chain-gang emerged from the boma gate, going full-pelt,fastened neck to neck, the chain taut and each man carrying awater-jar. The minute they had crossed the square Schubert commencedwith company drill, and for two hours after that, with but one intervalof less than five minutes for rest, he kept them pounding the gravel inevolution after evolution--manual exercise at the double--skirmishingexercise--setting up drill--goose-step, and all the mechanical,merciless precision drill with which the Germans make machines of men.
His debauch did not seem in the least to have affected him, unless tomake his temper more violently critical. By seven o'clock the sun wasbeating down on him and dazzling his eyes from over the boma wall. Thedust rose off the square. The words of command came bellowing in swiftsuccession from a throat that ought to have been hard put to it towhisper. If anything, he grew more active and exacting as the askariswearied, and by the time the two hours were up they were ready to a manto drop.
But not so he. He dismissed them, and swaggered over to themarketplace to hector and bully the natives who were piling their waresin the shade of the great grass roof. Then he went into the boma tobreakfast just as a sergeant in khaki came over and unlocked thehospital door. I followed the sergeant in, but he ordered me out again.
"I have come to see the doctor," I said. "I need attention."
He was not one of the sergeants who had been drunk in the D.O.A.G. thenight before, but a man of a higher mental type, although no less surly.
"It will be for the doctor to say what you need when he has seen you!"he answered, turning his back and busying himself about the room. Willtranslated, and I limped out again.
By and by the doctor came, and passed me sitting on the steps amid athrong of natives who seemed to have all the imaginable kinds of sores.He took no notice of me, but sent out the sergeant to inquire why Ihad not stood up as he passed. I did not answer, and the sergeant wentin again.
Fred by that time was simply blasphemous, alternately threatening to goin and kick the doctor, and condemning Will's determination to do thesame thing. Finally we decided to see the matter through patiently,and all sat together on the steps watching the activity of the square.There was a lot going on--bartering of skins and hides--counting ofcrocodile eggs, brought in by natives for sake of the bounty of a fewcopper coins the hundred--a cock-fight in one corner--the carrying toand fro of bunches of bananas, meat, and grain in baskets; and in andout among it all full pelt in the hot sun marched the chain-gang, doingthe township dirty work.
By and by Schubert emerged from the boma gate followed by nativescarrying a table and a soap-box. He set these under a limb of thegreat baobab that faced the boma gate not far from the middle of thesquare. I noticed then for the first time that a short hempen ropehung suspended from the largest branch, with a noose in the end. Thenoose was not more than two feet below the branch.
Schubert's consideration of the table's exact position, and the placingof the soap-box on the table, was interrupted by the arrival ofCoutlass, his Greek companion and the Goanese arm in arm, followedclosely by two askaris who shouted angrily and made a great show oftrying to prevent them. One of the askaris aimed his rifle absurdly atCoutlass, both Greeks and the Goanese daring him gleefully to pull thetrigger.
They purposely came close to us, not that we showed signs of meaning tobefriend them. They were simply unable to understand that there aredegrees of disgrace. To Coutlass all victims of government outrageought surely to be more than friendly with any one in conflict with thelaw. Personal quarrels should go for nothing in face of the commonwrong.
"There is going to be a hanging!" Coutlass shouted to us. "Theythought we would remain quietly in camp with that going on! Give uschairs!" he called to Schubert. "Provide us a place in the front rowwhere we may see!"
Schubert grinned. He returned to the boma yard and presumablyconferred with an officer, for presently he came out again and gave theGreeks leave to stand under the tree, provided they would return tocamp afterward. Later yet, Brown came along and joined us on thesteps, looking red-eyed and ridiculous.
"Goin' to be a hangin," he announced. "I been askin' natives about it.Black man stole the condemned man's daughter an' refused to pay cowsfor her accordin' to custom or anythin'--said he could do what thewhite men did an' help himself. Father of the girl took a spear andsettled the thief's hash with it--ran him through--did a clean job.Serve him right--eh--what? Germans went an' nabbed him, though--triedhim in open court--goin' to hang him this mornin' for murder! How doesit strike you?"
We were not exactly in mood to talk to Brown--in fact, we wished himanywhere but with us, but he thought self perfectly welcome, andrambled on:
"Up in British East we don't hang black men for murder unless it's whatthey call an aggravated case--murder an' robbery--murder an'arson--murder an' rape. Hang a white man for murderin' a black sure asyou're sitting here, an' shoot a black man for murderin' a white; butthe blacks don't understand, so when they kill one another in such acase this, why we give 'em a short jail sentence an' a good lo lecture,an' let 'em go again. These folks have it t'other way round. Theynever hang a German, whether he's guilty or not, but hang a poor blackman, what doesn't understand, for half o' nothin'!"
A great crowd began gathering about the tree, and was presently drivenby askaris with whips into a mass on the far side of the tree from us.Whether purposely or not, they left a clear view from the hospitalsteps of all that should happen. Evidently warning had been sent outbroadcast, for the inhabitants of village after village came troopinginto town to watch, each lot led by its sultani in filthy rags and thefoolish imitation crown his conquerors had supplied him at severaltimes its proper price. The square was a dense sea of people beforenine o'clock, and the askaris made the front few hundreds lie, and thenext rows squat, in order that the men and women behind might see.
Then at last out came the victim with his hands tied behind him and abright red blanket on his loins. He was a proud-looking fellow. Hehalted a moment between his guard of German sergeants and eyed thecrowd, and us, and the tree, and the noose. Then he looked down on theground and appeared to take no further interest.
The sergeants took him by the arms and led him along to the tablebetween them. Out came the commandant then, in snow-white uniform,with his saber polished until it shone--all spruced up for theoccasion, and followed by a guard of honor consisting of lieutenant,two sergeants, and six black askaris.
There was a chair by the table. At sight of the commandant thesergeants made their victim use that as a step by which to mount thetable and soap-box, and there he stood eying his oppressors as calmlyas if he were witnessing a play. A murmur arose among the crowd. Anumber of natives called to him by name, but he took no notice afterthat one first steady gaze.
"They're sayin' good-by to him," said Brown, breathing in my ear."They're telling him they won't forget him!"
The crack of askaris' whips falling on head and naked shoulders swiftlyreduced the crowd to silence. Then the commandant faced them all, andmade a speech with that ash-can voice of his--first in German, then inthe Nyamwezi tongue. Will translated to us sentence by sentence, thedoctor standing on the top step behind us smiling approval. He seemedto think we would be benefited by the lecture just as much as thenatives.
It was awful humbug that the commandant reeled off to his silentaudience--hypocrisy garbed in paternal phrases, and interlarded withbuncombe about Germany's mission to bring happiness to subject peoples.
"Above all," he repeated again and again, "the law must be enforcedimpartially--the good, sound, German law that knows no fear or favor,but governs all alike!"
When he had finished he turned to the culprit.
"Now," he demanded, "do you know why you are to be hanged?"
There was a moment's utter silence. The crowd drew in its breath,seeming to know in advance that some brave answer was forthcoming. Theman on the table with
his hands behind him surveyed the crowd againwith the gaze of simple dignity, looked down on the commandant, andraised his voice. It was an unexpected, high, almost falsetto note,that in the silence carried all across the square.
"I am to die," he said, "because I did right! My enemy did what Germanofficers do. He stole my young girl. I killed him, as I hope all youGermans may be killed! But hope no longer gathers fruit in this land!"
"Ah-h-h-h!" the crowd sighed in unison.
"Good man!" exploded Fred, and the doctor tried to kick him frombehind--not hard, but enough to call his attention to the proprieties.His toe struck me instead, and when I looked up angrily he tried topretend he was not aware of what he had done.
Under the trees the commandant flew into a rage such I have seldomseen. Each land has a temper of its own, and the white man's angervaries in inverse ratio with his nearness to the equator. But furorteutonicus transplanted is the least controllable, least dignified,least admirable that there is. And that man's passion was the apex ofits kind.
His beard spread, as a peacock spreads its tail. His eyes blazed. Hiseyebrows disappeared under the brim of his white helmet, and hisclenched fists burst the white cotton gloves. He half-drew hissaber--thought better of that, and returned it. There was an askaristanding near with kiboko in hand to drive back the crowd should anypress too closely. He snatched the whip and struck the condemned manwith it, as high up as he could reach, making a great welt across hisbare stomach. The man neither winced nor complained.
"For those words," the commandant screamed at him in German, "you shallnot die in comfort! For that insolence, mere hanging is too good!"
Then he calmed himself a little, and repeated the words in the nativetongue, explaining to the crowd that German dignity should be upheld atall costs.
"Fetch him down from there," he ordered.
Schubert sprang on the table and knocked the condemned man off it witha blow of his fist. With hands bound behind him the poor fellow had nopower of balance, and though he jumped clear he fell face-downward,skinning his cheek on the gravel. The commandant promptly put a footon his neck and pinned him down.
"Flog him!" he ordered. "Two hundred lashes!"
It was done in silence, except for the corporal's labored breathing andthe commandant's incessant sharp commands to beatharder--harder--harder. A sergeant stood by counting. The crack ofthe whip divided up the silence into periods of agony.
When the count was done the victim was still conscious. Schubert and asergeant dragged him to his feet, and hauled him to the table. Fourother men--two sergeants and two natives--passed a rope round the tablelegs. Schubert lifted the victim by the elbows so that his head couldpass through the noose, and when that was accomplished the man had tostand on tiptoe on the soap-box in order to breathe at all.
"All ready!" announced Schubert, and jumped off with a laugh, his whitetunic bloody from contact with the victim's tortured back.
"Los!" roared the commandant
The men hauled on the rope. Table and soap-box came tumbling away, andthe victim spun in the air on nothing, spinning round, and round, andround--slower and slower and slower--then back the other way roundfaster and faster.
They say hanging is a merciful death--that the pressure of rope on twoarteries produces anesthesia, but few are reported to have come back totell of the experience. At any rate, as is not the case with shooting,it is easy to know when the victim is really dead.
For seconds that seemed minutes--for minutes that seemed hours the poorwretch spun, his elbows out, his knees up, his tongue out, his facewrinkled into tortured shapes, and his toes pointed upward so sharplythat they almost touched his shins. Then suddenly the toes turneddownward and the knees relapsed. The corpse hung limp, and the crowdsighed miserably, to the last man, woman and child, turning its back onwhat to them must have symbolized German rule.
They left the corpse hanging there. It was to be there until evening,some one said, for an example to frequenters of the market-place. Thecrowd trailed away, none glancing back. The pattering of feet ceased.The market-place across the square resumed its hum and activity. Thena native orderly came down the steps and touched me on the elbow. Istruggled to my feet and limped after him up the steps.
Practically at the mercy of the doctor, I made up my mind to be civilto him whether that suited me or not. I rather expected he would cometo meet me, perhaps help me to chair, and I wondered how, in myignorance of German, I should contrive to answer his questions.
But I need not have worried. I did not even see him. He had left bythe back door, and the orderly washed the wound and changed mybandages. That was all. There was no charge for the bandages, and theorderly was gentle now that his master's back was turned.
"Didn't he leave word when he would see me?" I asked.
"Habandh!" he answered--meaning, "He did not--there is not--there isnothing doing!"