The Ivory Trail

by Talbot Mundy

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IPSOS CUSTODES

  We were an ignorant people. Out of a gloom we came Hungering, striving, feasting--vanishing into the same. Came to us your foreloopers, told us the gloom was bad, Spoke of the Light that might be--simply it could be had-- Knowledge and wealth and freedom, plenty and peace and play, And at all the price of obedience. "Listen and learn and obey," We were told, "and the gloom shall be lifted. Ignorance surely is shame." We listened to your foreloopersy till presently Cadis* came.

  We were an ignorant people. Our law was "an eye for an eye," And he who wronged should right the wrong, and he who stole should die-- Bad law the Cadis told us, based on the fall of man; And they set us to building law-courts on the Pangermanic plan-- Courts where the gloom of ages should be pierced, said they, with Light And scientific theory displace wrong views of Right. The Cadis' law was writ in books that only they could read, But what should we know of the strings to that? 'Twas gloom when we agreed.

  We were an ignorant people. The Offizieren came To lend to law eye, tooth, and claw and so enforce the same. Now nought are the tribal customs; free speech is under ban; Displaced are misconceptions that were based on fallen man, And our gloom has gone in darkness of the risen German's night, Nor is there salt of mercy lest it sap the hold of Might. They strike--we may not answer, nor dare we ask them why. We sold ourselves to supermen. If we rebel, we die.

  -----------------* Cadi--judge.-----------------

  I sat down once more on the hospital steps, and listened while Fred andWill relieved themselves of their opinions about German manners.Nothing seemed likely to relieve me. I had marched a hundred miles,endured the sickening pain, and waited an extra night at the end of itall simply on the strength of anticipation. Now that the surgeon wouldnot see me, hope seemed gone. I could think of nothing but to go andhide somewhere, like a wounded animal.

  But there were two more swift shocks in store, and no hiding-place.The path to the water-front led past us directly along the southernboma wall. Before Fred and Will had come to an end of swearing theysaw something that struck them silent so suddenly that I looked up andsaw, too. Not that I cared very much. To me it seemed merely one lastsuper-added piece of evidence that life was not worth while.

  Plainly the launch had come from British East, of which Schubert hadspoken. Hand in hand from the water-front, followed by the obsequiousSchubert, all smiles and long black whip (for the chain-gang trailedafter with the luggage, and needed to be overawed), walked ProfessorSchillingschen and Lady Isobel Saffren Waldon. They seemed in love--orat any rate the professor did, for he ogled and smirked like a beardedgargoyle; and she made such play of being charmed by his grimaces thatthe Syrian maid fell behind to hide her face.

  None of us spoke. We watched them. Personally I did not mind thefeeling that the worst had happened at last. I was incapable ofsounding further depths of gloom--too full of pain bodily to suffermentally from threats of what might yet be. But the other two lookedmiserable--more so because Fred's bearded chin perked up so bravely,and Will set his jaw like a rock.

  Not one of us had said a word when the biggest askari we had seen yetstrode up to us--saluted--and gave Fred a sealed envelope. It waswritten in English, addressed to us three by name (although our nameswere wrongly spelled). We were required to present ourselves at thecourt-house at once, reason not given. The letter was signed"Liebenkrantz,--Lieutenant."

  The askari waited for us. I suppose it would not be correct to say wewere under arrest, but the enormous black man made it sufficientlyobvious that he did not intend returning to the court without us. Thecourt-house was not more than two hundred yards away. As we turnedtoward it we saw Lady Saffren Waldon being helped into the commandant'slitter, borne by four men, the commandant himself superintending theceremony with a vast deal of bowing and chatter, and ProfessorSchillingschen looking on with an air of owning litter, porters,township, boma, and all. As we turned our backs on them they startedoff toward the neat white dwelling on the hill.

  The court was a round, grass-roofed affair, with white-washed walls ofsun-dried brick. For about four-fifths of the circumference the wallwas barely breast-high, the roof being supported on wooden pillarsbricked into the wall, as well as by the huge pole that propped it upumbrella-wise in the center.

  The remaining fifth of the wall continued up as high as the roof,forming a back to the platform. Facing the platform was the entrance,and on either side benches arranged in rows followed the curve of thewall. There was a long table on the platform, at which sat thelieutenant who had summoned us, with a sergeant seated on either hand.The sergeants were acting as court clerks, scribbling busily on sheetsof blue paper, and in books.

  Behind the lieutenant, in a great gilt frame on the white-washed wall,was a full-length portrait of the Kaiser in general's uniform. TheKaiser was depicted scowling, his gloved hands resting on a saberalmost as ferocious-looking as the one the lieutenant kept winding hisleg around.

  All the benches were crowded with spectators, prisoners, witnesses, andlitigants. Outside, at least two hundred Arabs, Indians, and nativesleaned with elbows on the wall and gazed at the scene within. Thelieutenant glared, but otherwise took no notice of our entry; he gaveno order, but one of the two sergeants came down from the platform andkicked half a dozen natives off the front bench to make room for us.

  We were mistaken in supposing our case would be called first, or evenamong the first. The floor in the midst of the court was clear exceptfor a long single line of natives and six askari corporals, each with awhip in his hand. It was evident at once that these natives were allahead of us, even if those on the benches were not to be heard anddealt with before our turn came.

  "Look at the far end of the line!" whispered Fred.

  Lo and behold Kazimoto, looking rather drawn and gray, but standingbravely, looking neither to the right nor left. I judged he knew wewere in court--he could hardly have failed to notice our coming in--buthe sturdily refused to turn his head and see us.

  "What has he done?" I wondered.

  "Nothing more than told some Heinie to go to hell--you can bet yourboots!" said Will.

  The lieutenant was in no hurry to enlighten us. Our boy stood at thewrong end of the line to be taken first. The lieutenant called a name,and two great askaris pounced on the trembling native at the other endand dragged him forward, leaving him standing alone before the desk.

  "Silence!" the lieutenant shouted, and the court became still as death.

  He had a voice as mean as a hyena's--a voice that matched his face.The insolent, upturned twist of his fair mustache showed both cornersof a thin-lipped mouth. He had the Prussian head, shaped squarewhichever way you viewed it. There was strength in thejaw-bones--strength in the deep-set bright eyes--strength in theshoulders that were square as box-corners without any padding--strengthin the lean lithe figure; but it was always brute strength. There wasno moral strength whatever in the restless fidgeting--the savagewinding and unwinding of his left foot around the saber scabbard, orthe attitude, leaning forward over the table, of petulant pugnacity.And the cruel voice was as weak as the hand was strong with which herapped on the table.

  He questioned the boy in front of him sharply--told him he stoodcharged with theft--and demanded an answer.

  "With theft of what thing, and whose thing?"

  The answer was bold. The trembling had ceased. Now that he facednemesis the strength of native fatalism came to his rescue, bolsteringup the pride that every uncontaminated Nyamwezi owns. He was not morethan seventeen years old, but he stood there at last like a veteran atbay.

  "Put him down and beat him!" ordered the lieutenant.

  "Impudent answers to this court shall always be soundly punished! Callthe next case while that one is being taught good manners."

  A woman was stood in front of the line, fidgety with fear, in doubtwhether to lay her suckling baby on the bench before she
faced militaryjustice. She laid it on the floor at her feet, hesitated, and thenpicked it up again and wrapped it in a corner of the red blanket thatconstituted her only dress.

  "Take that brat away from her!" the lieutenant ordered. "She must payattention to me. With that in her arms she will only think ofmothering!"

  An askari seized the baby by the arm and leg and gave it with a laughto another woman to hold, its mother whimpering with fright until shesaw it safely nestled.

  "Quick, now! What about this one?"

  It seemed there was no charge against her. The two sergeants searchedthrough the piles of blue sheets in vain.

  "Then what the devil is she here for? What do you want, you?"

  The trembling woman pointed to her baby, but was dumb. It neededcourage to answer that lieutenant, and the crack--crack--crack of athick kiboko descending at measured intervals on the naked back of theboy who had answered boldly was no help toward reassurance.

  "Speak!" the lieutenant ordered, "or I shall have you compelled tospeak!"

  She burst into sudden volubility. The dam once down, she poured fortha catalogue of wrongs that seemed endless, switching off from onedialect to another and at intervals inserting, apropos apparently ofnothing, the few words of German she had picked up. The lieutenantyelled for an interpreter, and a Nyamwezi who knew German rose from thefront bench and came and stood beside her.

  "That baby is a white man's," he explained.

  "What does she want?"

  "She says the white man is the bwana dakitari (the doctor!)."

  "Oh! Then I am glad she came here. It is time these loose women weretaught a lesson! They tell the same tale. They say a white man passedthrough the village, gave their father a present, and carried them off.Is that her tale, too?"

  "Yes."

  "Well--what of it? The father agreed at the time when he accepted thepresent, didn't he? The consequence is a baby--not for the first time!Instead of going back to her village, she comes here and tries toblackmail the officer! She is young. It's the first time she has beenin this court. This time I will be lenient. One hundred lashes!"

  The interpreter translated, and the woman screamed. An askari seizedher by the shoulders. She clung to him, but he threw her to theground, and another one tore off the blanket that would have deadenedthe blows to some extent. She begged, and clung to their feet, but theblows began to rain on her, and presently she lay still, her breastsflattened against the earth floor, her mouth full of dust, and hernaked body paralyzed by fear of the descending lash.

  "Now bring up number one again!" the lieutenant ordered.

  The askaris ceased from flogging him. One of them kicked him to hisfeet, and he resumed his stand in front of the lieutenant, looking upat him as proudly as ever, for all that his back was bruised and bloody.

  "Did you steal or did you not?" asked the lieutenant.

  "Steal what from whom?"

  "Oh, go on beating him! Next case!"

  The next man escaped the whip, but his witnesses were lessfortunate. He brought two men and a woman with him to prove an alibion a charge of attempted theft, and the glibness of their answersconvinced the lieutenant they were lying. In the absence of allevidence for the prosecution except the unsupported word of a policeaskari who admitted a personal grudge against the defendant, thelieutenant resorted to the whip to change the witnesses' convictions,but without avail.

  The woman yelled under the lash like a demented thing, but, far fromwithdrawing her statements, tried to spit in the lieutenant's face whenjerked to her feet and stood again before him--an impossible featbecause the platform on which he sat at the table was too high. He hadher beaten a second time for spitting.

  The next man was a fat Baganda from British territory, charged withtrading without a license. He pleaded ignorance of the law, and deniedhaving traded. He was flogged for telling lies in court, and changedhis testimony under the lash, whereat he was promptly sentenced to ahundred and fifty lashes and a month on the chain-gang. Under the lasha second time, he recanted--swore that his first statements had beentrue and that he had done no trading--a mistake in tactics that onlycaused the tale of lashes to be increased by fifty and the term on thechain-gang to be doubled.

  "You must learn that the methods taught you on British territory are ofno use here!" remarked the lieutenant.

  By the time Kazimoto was called and stood out alone in front of him thelieutenant was in a boiling rage, and the floor of the court wasactually crowded by prone natives being beaten. Extra askaris had beensent for in order that proceedings might not be delayed, and theaudience could scarcely hear the evidence and sentences because of thecrack of whips and the moans of victims. (Not that they all moaned byany means. By far the most of them submitted to the torture in grimproud silence: but the few who did make a noise--especially thewomen--made lots of it.)

  As Kazimoto faced the lieutenant he turned once and looked at us. Hiseyes sought Fred's.

  "Oh, bwana!" he said--and now for the first time we learned why he hadchosen Fred to be his particular master. "I have been faithful!Stroke, then, that beard of yours as Bwana Courtney, my former master,used to stroke his. Then we shall both know what to do!"

  Fred stroked his beard promptly, for the man needed comfort, notridicule: but the concession to his superstition did none of us anygood.

  "Face this way!" the lieutenant shouted at him. "You are charged withbeing a deserter from German service. Also with giving information toforeigners. Also with serving foreigners in their effort to exploitthe country, and with refusing to give proper answers when questionedby those in authority. Do you understand?"

  "No," said Kazimoto in the most melancholy tone I ever heard from him.

  "Are you a Nyamwezi? Now don't dare to lie to me!"

  "Yes."

  "You were born in this country?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you belong in this country!"

  "I belong where my master takes me. My spirit is good. I am a trueman," Kazimoto answered.

  "Your spirit is rotten! You are a traitor! What do you mean bytalking to me of your master, you reptile! Your master is the Germangovernment, of which His Majesty the Kaiser is supreme overlord! Thereis a picture of your master!" He pointed with a thumb over hisshoulder to the full-length atrocity in oils behind him. "Salute it!"

  The boy obeyed.

  "Answer now! Who is your master?"

  Kazimoto hesitated.

  "Answer, I order you!"

  He turned and pointed a finger at Fred, who nodded.

  "That English bwana is my master," he said stoutly. It was a forlornhope, though. He did not seem to believe that the statement of factwould do him any good.

  Fred jumped to his feet.

  "That is perfectly correct," he said in English. "The boy is myservant, engaged on British territory, under a contract for wages to bepaid in English money. He is to be paid off in British East at the endof my journey."

  "Who asked you to speak?" demanded the lieutenant angrily, sitting uplike a startled scorpion. "Do you not know this is a court?"

  "It looks like a shambles!" Fred answered, glancing to right and leftand indicating the victims of the whip writhing in the name of Germanjustice.

  "Shut up, you fool!" counseled Will in a stage whisper, but either Freddid not hear him, or was too worked up to care.

  "Silence! Sit down!"

  "I warn you!" Fred answered. "That boy has claimed British protection.I shall see he has it!"

  Then he sat down. The lieutenant glared at Kazimoto, the glarechanging to a cold grin as he realized how fully we were all at hismercy for the moment.

  "You are sentenced," he said, "to two hundred lashes for makingimpudent answers to the court, and to six months on the chain-gang fordeserting from this country and entering foreign service. Furtherevidence against you will be assembled in the meanwhile, and othercharges against you will be tried on completion of the chain-gangse
ntence!"

  "I protest!" shouted Fred, jumping up again. "I give notice of appealto whatever higher court there is. I am ready to give bonds!"

  "What does this delay mean?" snapped the lieutenant. "Put him down atonce and lay the lashes on!"

  The unfortunate Kazimoto was pounced on by two askaris and thrownface-downward on the floor. One of them tore off his clothes, rippingup his good English jacket.

  "Did you hear my protest?" shouted Fred. "Did you hear my notice ofappeal?"

  "I did," said the lieutenant. "Appeals are heard at the coast. Youmust give notice by mail, and receive an acknowledgment from the highermilitary court before I grant stay of execution. Lay on the lashes!"

  "I will hold you personally liable for this outrage," Fred told him,"if it costs me all my money and all the rest of my years! I defy youto continue!"

  "You have yourself to blame!" the lieutenant grinned. "But for youruninvited interruption the Nyamwezi would have had a better hearing!Lay those lashes on harder and more slowly!"

  Kazimoto was taking his gruel like a man. Two askaris were beatinghim. The blows fell at random anywhere below the neck and above theheels, raising a great welt where they did not actually cut the skin.He had buried his face in his forearms, and Will had gone to stand nearhim, stooping down to encourage him with any words at all that mightseem to serve.

  "Stick it out, Kazi! We'll stand by! We won't leave you down here!Remember you've got friends who won't desert you!"

  Probably in his agony Kazimoto did not understand a word of it, but thelieutenant did,--and swiftly took steps to interfere.

  "Call the Europeans' cases next!" he shouted, and promptly the Germansergeants stepped down from the platform to marshal us in line. Thelieutenant went through the form of studying the blue papers, andcalled out our names. That of Brown was included, but Brown was not incourt and we were kept standing there until he had been fetched fromhis tent. He had retired immediately after the hanging to sleep offthe effects of his debauch, and being now deprived of that luxuryarrived between two askaris in a volcanic temper. He insulted thelieutenant to begin with.

  "A diet o' beer an' sausage don't seem to have filled you full o' goodmanners, do it?"

  The lieutenant scowled, but for the moment chose to ignore thepleasantry.

  "You people are charged," he said, "with entering German territoryotherwise than by a regular road and without reporting at a customsstation. Further, with intending to defraud the customs--with carryingand possessing arms without a license--with being in possession ofammunition without a permit--with shooting game without a license--withfilibustering--with intentional homicide, in that you shot and killedcertain men of the Masai tribe within German territory--with wanderingat large without permits and with felonious intent; and last, and thisis the most serious charge, with being spies within the militarymeaning of that term. Do you plead guilty or not guilty?"

  We were dumb. Even the crack of the heavy whips on poor Kazimoto'sskin ceased to make impression on us. Suffering already from my woundto the point of nausea, I actually reeled before this new deluge oftrouble, and had to hold on to Fred and Will. They each put an armunder mine. It was Brown who spoke and stole from our sails whatlittle wind there might have been.

  "Decline to plead!" he shouted boisterously. "You're no judge, you'rea pirate! You're not fit to try natives, let alone white men! You'rea disgrace, that's what you are! All you're fit for is to make adecent fellow glad he needn't know you!"

  "Silence!" roared the lieutenant, banging on the table with his openpalm--then with his fist--then with a mallet.

  "Silence yourself!" retorted Brown as soon as the hammering ceased."You ought to be ashamed o' yourself! Your court's a bally disgrace,an' you're the worst thing in it! You and your Kaiser can go to hell,and be damned to both of you!"

  "One month in jail for contempt of court and Majestaets-beleidigung!"snapped the lieutenant. "Take him away!"

  Quite clearly that was not the first time that a white man had beenimprisoned in Muanza. There was no hesitation about the way in whichan askari seized Brown's wrists or a sergeant snapped the handcuffs.He was hustled out expostulating, kicked on the shins by the sergeantwhen he faced about to argue, and shoved into a run by both sergeantand askari.

  "You others would better be careful what you say!" said the lieutenant.

  "I've a mind to share Brown's cell!" said Will, but the lieutenantaffected not to hear that.

  "Since you refuse to plead in this court, you shall be held until thearrival of Major Schunck from the coast. Your arms and ammunition areto be handed over to the askaris, who will be sent to the rest-camp toreceive them. The askaris will search your belongings thoroughly tomake sure they have all your weapons. You are ordered confined withinthe limits of this township, and if you are detected making any attemptto trespass outside township limits you will be confined as the Greeksare within the rest-camp under observation. The porters you broughtinto the country are all to be paid their full wages by you until MajorSchunck shall have dealt with you; the porters are refused permissionto leave Muanza, being needed as witnesses. Next case!"

  He scrawled his signature at the foot of each sheet of blue paper, andmade a motion with his arm that we should leave court. But we sat downand waited until the two Nubian giants had finished flogging Kazimoto,and when they dragged him to his feet Will and Fred walked over to givehim a few words of comfort. That act of ordinary kindness threw thelieutenant into another fury.

  "Bring the Nyamwezi here!" he ordered, and the askaris hustled him upin front of the table.

  "What do you do? Have you no manners? Return proper thanks for thelesson you have received!"

  Kazimoto stood silent.

  "For God's sake--" Will began.

  "Say 'Thank you' to him, Kazimoto!" Fred whispered.

  There is no native word for "Thank you"--only a bastard thingintroduced by tyrants from Europe who never understood the Africancontention that the giver rewards himself if his gift is worth anythingat all.

  "Asente," said Kazimoto meekly.

  "Why don't you salute? Don't you know where you are?"

  "For the love of God salute him!" Will almost shouted.

  Kazimoto obeyed.

  "Take him and put him on the chain-gang!" ordered the lieutenant. "YouEuropeans leave the court!"

  "I'm no European!" Will shouted back. "Thank the Lord I was born in acountry you'll never set foot in!"

  "Take them away before I have to make an example of them!" thelieutenant ordered.

  Obediently the askaris gathered about us and hustled us out into theopen, poking at my bandaged wound to get swifter action, and going asfar as to threaten us with their hippo-hide whips. I trod on the nakedtoe of one of them with sufficient suddenness and weight to deprive himof the use of it for all time, and luckily for me he did not see whodid it. The askari next to him had boots on, and got the blame.

  The black men who were to search our belongings tried to induce us tohurry, but we insisted on seeing the iron ring riveted to Kazimoto'sneck. The ring had a shackle on it, and through that they passed thelong chain that held him prisoner in the midst of a gang of forty men.Nobody washed the wounds on his back. We bought water from a woman whowas passing with a great jar on her head, and did that much for him.He was naked. His clothes that the askaris had torn from him had beenthrown outside the court, and some one had stolen them. Later theygave him a piece of cheap calico to bind round his waist, but duringall that hot afternoon he had nothing to keep the sun from his torturedback; nor would they permit us to give him anything.

  The mortification of having one's private belongings gone through byblack men in uniform was made more exasperating still by the fact thatCoutlass and the other Greek and the Goanese were spectators, amusingthemselves with comments that came nearer to causing murder than theyguessed.

  The real motive of the search was evident within two minutes from thecommencement.
The askaris could not read, but they showed a mostremarkable affinity for paper that had been written on. They took theguns and ammunition first, but after that they emptied everything fromour bags and boxes on to the sand, and confiscated every scrap ofpaper, shaking our books to make sure nothing was left between theleaves.

  They even took away our writing material in their zeal to findinformation likely to prove useful to their masters. But they forgotto search our pockets, so that they overlooked the letter we hadwritten in code to Monty and had not yet sent away by messenger.

  That letter became our most besetting problem. How to find a runnerwho would take it to British East and mail it for us up there withoutbetraying us first to the Germans was something we could not guess.Even Fred grew gloomy when we realized there was probably not a nativeon the whole countryside with sufficient manhood left in him to daremake the attempt. The first overture we might make would almostcertainly be reported to the commandant at once.

  "What fools we were not to send Kazimoto with it when he begged us to!"

  "What worse than fools!"

  "What brutes! Think what we might have saved him!"

  We were unanimous as to that, but unanimity brought no comfort, untilwe all together hit on a notion that did ease our feelings a trifle.Coutlass and his two friends were sitting on camp-stools in the openwhere they could have a full view of our doings. Assuming thecamping-ground to be equally divided between their party and ours, theywere well within our portion. We decided their curiosity was insolent,declared inexorable war, and there and then felt better.

  Fred went out with a tent-peg and scored in the sand a deep line todenote our boundary, the Greeks watching, all eyes and guesswork.

  "Over the other side with you!" Fred ordered when he had finished.

  They refused. He charged at them, and they ran.

  "Whichever of you, man or servant, sets foot on our side of that lineshall be a dead-sure hospital case!" Fred announced. "We'llreciprocate by leaving your side of the camp to you!"

  "Who made you men rulers of this rest-camp?" Coutlass demanded.

  "We did," Fred answered. "We've lost our rifles just as you have.We'll fight you with bare hands and skin you alive if you trespass!"

  "Gassharamminy!" shouted Coutlass. "By hell and Waterloo, you mistakeme for a weakling! Wait and see!"

  We had to wait a very long and weary time, but we did see. In the daysthat followed, when my wound festered and I grew too ill to drag myselfabout, Fred and Will were able to leave me alone in the camp withoutany fear of a visit from the Greeks. It was not that there was muchleft worth stealing, but a mere visit from them might have hadconsequences we could never have offset. Alone, unable to rise, Icould not have forced them to leave, and their lingering would surelyhave been interpreted by the guard, who always watched them from thecorner of the road, as evidence of collusion of some sort between themand us.

  Just at that time Coutlass, as it happened, would have liked nothingbetter in the world than the chance to persuade the Germans that he wasin our councils. Fred's mere irritable determination to divide thecamp in halves saved us in all human probability from a trap out ofwhich there would have been no escape.