CHAPTER IV
A Stern Chase
An African Village--A Bargain--A False Scent--Up the Ruezi--A NightVigil--Followed--The Bend in the River--A Man Wounded--No Thoroughfare
The two youths found themselves on a narrow spit of sand projecting somehundred yards into the river-mouth. On the land side Tom saw nothingbut a dense wall of elephant-grass and papyrus standing nearly twice ashigh as himself, into which the river disappeared. On the other sidewas the blue expanse of the Nyanza, shading into the lighter blue of thecloudless sky. In the distance he could see the faint coast-line of theSese Islands, and, between himself and them, the smoke of the departinglaunch stretching across the sky like a long smudge on a clean page.For the first time a shadow of misgiving crossed his mind, but with asilent "This will never do" he pulled himself together, and set himselfresolutely to face the task he had undertaken.
He looked meditatively for a few moments at Mbutu.
"Now, Mbutu," he said, "we are left to our own devices. I must trust toyou to help me through; I suppose you can make yourself understood inany of these parts, eh? Well now, you stick by me and do your best, andyou and I'll be great friends. Now for this village."
Mbutu shouldered the baggage, and they set off towards the apparentlyimpenetrable wall. They were soon ankle-deep in swamp, but, rounding apoint and wading a little creek, they came upon a narrow path, evidentlyworn away by many feet tramping down in single file to the river-side.Striking up this path they were met in another ten minutes by signs ofhuman habitation. There were fields of sweet-potatoes, Indian-corn, andmillet, traversing which they came plump upon an irregular circle ofgrass huts, half-hidden by the surrounding bush.
Tom called a halt. It would be well, he thought, to impress thevillagers with an idea of his importance, so he despatched Mbutu inadvance, as a herald, to announce his arrival to the chief of thevillage. Passing the line of grass huts, and picking his way amid fowlsand goats and a rather unsavoury litter, Tom found himself in a spaciousenclosure, which was already filling with a crowd of jabbering natives.The centre of this open space was occupied by a hut of larger dimensionsthan the rest. It was a round structure, consisting of boughs of treesheld together by grass and mud, and surmounted by a conical roof,roughly thatched. The doorway was low, and not more than eighteeninches wide; Tom wondered whether the chief would come out, and if not,how he himself was to get in. Mbutu, he saw, was talking rapidly andwith much gesticulation to a corpulent negro at the door of the hut,while a group of natives stood intently watching at a respectfuldistance.
As Tom approached, Mbutu came towards him grinning.
"Him say him katikiro," he said. "Him lie; him katikiro not much. Bigchief hab katikiro, little chief no hab."
"What on earth is katikiro?" asked Tom.
Mbutu looked puzzled and scratched his head. After pondering a while,and searching for words to make the matter clear to his master'sintelligence, he said:
"Katikiro palaver man. Chief want eat--call katikiro. Chief wantwife--call katikiro. Want gib bad man kiboko--call katikiro all same."
"Sort of head cook and bottle-washer, lord high executioner and primeminister all in one, eh? Well, tell the right honourable katikiro Iwant to see the chief."
"Him say chief asleep."
"Then he must wake him up."
Mbutu spoke to the negro, who shook his head, looked very serious, and,pointing to the hut behind, answered quickly and earnestly.
"Him say chief chop off head," grinned Mbutu. "Chief berrah big, oh!"
"He must chance that!" replied Tom. "Tell him that if he and his masterkeep me dawdling here any longer, I shall report both of them to thegovernment at Entebbe, and then they'll be sorry."
If Tom had understood Mbutu's interpretation of his speech he would haveheard him inform the native that his master's big brother, the GreatWhite King, would take away the chief's wives and goats, charms andbeads, and leave him not so much as an anklet to call his own. He wouldpull his teeth, shave his head, and make him wash himself in hot watertwice a day. Mbutu was proceeding to amplify these threats with greateloquence when Tom, losing patience, cried: "If he doesn't hurry up, Ishall go in and wake the chief myself," and he made a movement towardsthe hut. Instantly the man, with a terrified look, took a long breath,turned sideways, and squeezed his rotundity through the narrow aperture.His entrance was followed by a stream of very hot language, and in amoment the katikiro reappeared, looking somewhat crestfallen. He wasfollowed immediately by the chief, a well-made negro, scowling andrubbing his eyes. He presented a comical appearance in his torn calicoshirt and head-dress consisting of a piece of lion's skin ingeniouslyornamented with stork's feathers. Tom went up to him and held out hishand frankly, a courtesy he regretted at once, for on emerging from thechief's grip he found his hand covered with dirty grease. Stillsmiling, however, he made as impressive an oration as he could, and thenasked through Mbutu if the chief could tell him anything about theexpedition. Mbutu added on his own account that he had better tell nolies, for his master was a near relative of the Great White King, andmoreover had been given by a medicine man the power to see through theback of any black man's head. He further promised on Tom's behalf thatthe truth would be repaid with a good many beads, while falsehood wouldentail unspeakable consequences.
Thus encouraged, the chief spat on the ground and began. He stated thatthe expedition had arrived at the mouth of the Ruezi two days before.The river being impracticable for launches, the men had landed at acreek a mile or two away, and had there begun their overland march.They were bound for Mpororo, a place the chief knew only by hearsay, ashe himself had never ventured farther than the southern end of LakeMazingo. Beyond that, he understood, were the tents of the Wa-daki, wholived night and day with kiboko; and as he named the dreaded Germans,his eyes flashed and his nostrils dilated.
"I don't understand this," said Tom. "The Ruezi looks a big enoughriver. Why couldn't the launches sail up?"
The chief explained that the bed was here and there silted with mud, andeverywhere more or less overgrown with reeds.
"Then I suppose we shall have to tramp after them. Couldn't we reachthis Lake Mazingo by the river?"
The chief was sorry to say that they would have to walk through theforest.
"Isn't your river deep enough for a canoe, then?"
Oh yes! A light canoe could paddle up to Lake Mazingo, but beyond thatwere the tents of the Wa-daki, who lived night and day--
"Yes, yes," interrupted Tom. "Why couldn't the old guy tell us thatbefore! Tell him I'll hire a canoe with its crew, and that we'll startat once."
But he reckoned without his chief. It took Mbutu over an hour toconclude the bargain, the chief asking for one thing after another inpayment, and showing a special desire for Tom's scarf-pin. When theprice had finally been fixed at a number of beads, an old clasp-knife,ten yards of calico, and a couple of boot-laces, a further difficultyarose. The chief absolutely refused to allow his men to start at night:journeys begun beneath a full moon were of ill omen, he said, and Mbutuhimself was superstitious enough to sympathize with him. Anxious as Tomwas to get on, he saw that it would be unwise to press the chief anyfurther, and accordingly arranged that the light canoe, with a crew offour strong paddlers, should be at his disposal at daybreak nextmorning.
"Now, Mbutu," said Tom, "just ask him if he has seen anything of thePortuguese we caught a glimpse of just now."
No, the chief had not seen the white man in the green coat, but a moonbefore he had seen one of the Wa-daki, who lived night and--
"Bother the Wa-daki! Just tell him that if he does see anything of thedago he is to say nothing about us. Does he understand? And none ofhis men is to say anything either. You'd better impress that on thekatikiro too."
Mbutu having carried out his master's instructions in his own decorativeway, Tom, with much ceremony, presented the chief with half a
dozenyellow beads and a pocket handkerchief, dexterously avoided his greasypaw, and despatched Mbutu to find a place, away from the malodorousvillage, where they might comfortably pass the night.
Next morning they were up betimes. Tom was ravenously hungry, but didnot feel happy at the thought of eating anything prepared in thevillage. He was surprised when Mbutu brought him an earthen pot filledwith excellent tea, a slice of fried goat, and a few chapatties made, ashe afterwards learnt, of banana-flour.
"Upon my word, Mbutu," he said, "I shall have to make you my katikiroright away."
Mbutu beamed his delight. Their breakfast finished, they went to findtheir canoe. It was already lying in the creek they had crossed on theprevious evening. The crew were four muscular Baganda dressed innothing but loin-cloths and grease, who all began to jabber at once asTom approached.
"What do they say?" Tom asked.
"Say you fader and mudder, sah. All belong sah; huts belong sah; foodbelong sah; eberyfing belong sah."
"That's very kind of them, I'm sure. I wish they'd wash off thatgrease, though. What shall I say to them, Mbutu?"
"Me palaver man; me katikiro, sah."
Mbutu told the men that his master was their father and mother; wouldbuild up their huts if by any chance they were destroyed during theirabsence; would give their children charms to preserve them fromsnake-bites and the sleeping sickness; and as a token of sincerity inthese pledges would eat a sheep with them at the first opportunity.They snapped their fingers and smiled, and looked with great reverenceat the unconscious Tom, who had been in a brown study while his henchmanwas speaking.
"I've been thinking, Mbutu," he said; "suppose the Portuguese has beenhanging about. If he recognized you he is sure to suspect that I knowrather too much about him now, and he may be on the watch for us. Weshould be no match for him and his eight men if they happen to be armed.What do you think?"
"Sah fink; tell Mbutu."
"Well now, if they are on our track they won't be far away. Just askthese fellows if the river bends at all."
The men declared that the water bent like a bow to south, a half-hour'spaddling from where they were.
"Then you and I, Mbutu, will cut across country and meet the canoe byand by. I suppose there's a way?"
Yes; the crew said there was a path through a stretch of thin forest,which rejoined the river after about five miles.
"The very thing. Now, tell these fellows that if a white man in a greencoat meets them, and asks after us, they are to say that a white man isin their village, and that they are sent to summon the chief of anothervillage--they can give it a name--to a grand palaver about food for theexpedition on its way back."
Mbutu repeated these instructions, adding that the green-coated man hada particularly keen kiboko. The quick-witted natives appreciated atonce the part they were to play, and chuckled with enjoyment. They tooktheir seats on the poles which, placed transverse through holes in thesides of the canoe, served as thwarts, struck their paddles into thewater, and, raising their voices in a curious chant, drove theirred-coloured bark rapidly up-stream.
Tom watched them till they were out of sight among the reeds, thenturned and strode off with Mbutu. All their baggage and a stock of foodwere in the canoe; Tom had nothing but his field-glass and a lightswitch he had cut that morning from a tree. It was seven o'clock, andthe sun being not yet high, marching would not have been unpleasant butfor the heavy dew upon the long grass and spreading plants over whichthey had to walk. Very soon they were soaked to the waist, and Tomthought that Mbutu with his bare legs had decidedly the best of it.Their progress through the forest was not rapid, owing to the tangle ofvegetation through which they had at times to force a way. It wasnearly nine before they saw the river again. The canoe was waiting forthem, and Mbutu ran ahead. Tom could see by the excited way in whichthe crew gabbled and gesticulated that something had happened. When hereached them, Mbutu informed him that the canoe had been hailed by thePortuguese, who had been lying in wait for them in a creek some threemiles up the river. He had questioned the crew, who, after giving himthe message as had been arranged, had seen him paddle back hurriedlytowards the mouth of the river. They had noticed that all his men werearmed with rifles, and volubly regretted that they had been unable tofight him.
"They're as pleased as Punch at having outwitted him, anyhow," said Tom."Tell them I'll give them some beads for doing so well. Now, Mbutu, yougo in the bow, I'll take the stern, and we'll see how these fellowspaddle."
The men struck their paddles into the water, and, keeping perfect time,sent the canoe along at a swinging pace. They accompanied their strokeswith a crooning chant, the words sounding something like this--
Nsologumba kanpitepite kunyanja Nsologumba oluilaita kunyanja Nsologumba lekanpitepite kunyanja.
Tom knew his elements of music, and could take his part in "Willow theKing"; but the notes of this tune fitted no scale he had ever heard of.The same words were repeated again and again for half an hour at astretch, until he felt rather tired of them.
"I wish they'd turn on another tap," he said to himself, "but I supposetheir feelings would be hurt if I told them so. Mbutu, my boy, what'stheir song about?"
Mbutu turned up the whites of his eyes in the effort to translate, thenchanted solemnly:
"Man all alone row up de ribber, man all alone row up de ribber, man allalone row up de ribber; alone de man row up ribber, alone de man rowup--"
"Thanks! I know it by heart now. D'you think you could tell them astory, Mbutu? Anything to keep them quiet. The man all alone wants tothink, tell them."
"All right, sah! berrah well, sah! Me tell story about uncle andcroc'dile--berrah nice story, sah!"
"Very well; make it as long as you like."
"Uncle, sah, in canoe, all alone row up de ribber. Uncle, sah--"
"Quite so, but you can tell me the story another time. I want you tokeep the crew amused, you understand."
Mbutu looked rather disappointed, but at once began to unfold his storyto the negroes, who listened with strained attention, breaking out atintervals into guffaws of pleasure and cries of amazement.
Meanwhile Tom looked about him. The crew had evidently performed thisjourney before, for they dexterously skirted the shallows, and appearedto know exactly where to pull to avoid the encroaching reeds. Beyondthe reeds the banks were lined with splendid trees, some with whitetrunks, others with gray, others with black; the foliage of vivid green;the blossoms of many hues--crimson, scarlet, lilac, yellow, white. Onsome of them india-rubber vines had fastened themselves in long loopsand festoons. The river itself shone in the sunlight like a pathway ofpolished metal. Here and there it seemed to cease to be a river at all,and became a mere lagoon, and at such spots Tom saw more than onerhinoceros wallowing, their horned snouts just out of the water. As thecanoe progressed, the rushes were less dense; a thick wall of soft-woodplants came into view; raphia-palms with their huge fronds, wild bananaswith their enormous leaves, the slender stems of date-palms, crownedwith graceful plumage of the richest green. The air was still, save nowand again when the canoe disturbed a haunt of water-fowl, or a parrotflew squawking among the reeds, or a covey of beautifully-colouredwidow-finches darted from shrub to shrub uttering their harsh littlecries. Occasionally the canoe passed a tree on which innumerablemonkeys were chattering and squabbling. Once Tom's ear caught theinimitable trill of a thrush, reminding him of Home; and as the canoeglided beneath the branches of a spreading plantain, a number of largebirds, with gorgeous blue bodies, crimson pinions, and tufted heads,sportively pursued one another among the foliage, boo-hooing, braying,shrieking uproariously.
"What's that noisy fowl?" asked Tom, interrupting Mbutu as he wasregaling the crew for the tenth time with the moving story of his uncleand the crocodile.
"Dat, sah? Dat big plantain-eater, sah. Berrah brave bird, sah! Himcome see me in hut; see uncle, sah, all alone row up ribber. Uncle gosleep, sah; leg ober side--
"
At this moment the crew, deprived of their recent amusement, struck upagain--
Nsologumba kanpitepite kunyanja Nsologumba oluilaita kunyanja.
"Couldn't you tell them another story?" suggested Tom.
With a glance in which Tom detected a shade of reproach, the boy resumedhis narrative, and kept the crew engrossed until his master called "easyall" for dinner.
Running the canoe up a narrow creek, the men sprang on shore with theiraxes, and returned by and by bearing with them a huge bunch of ripebananas, culled from a river-side plantation. These, with some of thebiscuits which the padre had thoughtfully packed among his baggage, anda draught of not very palatable water lapped up from the river, Tomfound quite sufficient to stay his hunger and thirst. The crewdiversified their meal with ground-nuts and a stuff that looked likemoist almond-rock, which they took out of a wrapping of leaves. One ofthem offered Mbutu a small hunk, and he broke off about a fourth part ofit, handing the rest to Tom.
"Not to-day, thanks! What is it, may I ask?"
"Berrah nice, sah! Cheese, sah!"
"Really! And what is it made of? Not milk, judging by the look of it."
"Mango, sah! Chop mango stone; take out all inside; knock him about,sah; make cheese. Berrah nice, sah!"
"Well, eat it up, and then we'll be off again. Tell the men I'm pleasedwith them, and hope they'll do as well all day."
On the way back to the canoe, Tom happened to tread on a pair of largeants crawling on the grass. He was almost overcome by the stench fromtheir crushed bodies. Then every exposed part of his body was stung bymosquitoes, and his head became enveloped in a swarm of yellowish gnats,which Mbutu called kungu-flies.
"Berrah nice, sah!" he said, as they got into the canoe. "Black mancatch kungu, sah! Mash, mash, all one cake. Make little fire; fry cake;eat all up."
Tom ruefully thought of his small stock of biscuits, and in thisalternative diet recognized an additional motive for pressing on.
It was a broiling hot afternoon, and as the canoe sped on its way Tomsaw scores of crocodiles lying on the bank half out of the water,basking in the sunlight, and digesting their food, their eyelidsdrowsily drooping, their jaws wide open in a sort of prolonged yawn.Just above one of these dozing reptiles, a number of storks and cranesand herons stood perched on one leg, regarding the crocodile, Tomfancied, with a contemplative air, more in sorrow than in anger.Farther on, he was amused to see a young elephant twining its trunkabout the neck of a graceful zebra, as in an affectionate embrace. Allthe afternoon, indeed, he was kept interested by an ever-changingpanorama, eye and ear being alike captivated incessantly by somethingnew and strange. He was naturally observant, and many curious detailsimpressed themselves upon his mind without his being conscious of them.He would have liked to stay and study this new world at his leisure, butthe temptation to linger was counteracted by his sense of the urgency ofhis mission. The only other drawback to his enjoyment was the paincaused by the mosquito bites, which increased as the day wore on.
At sundown, having covered some twenty-two miles, and made, as Tomconsidered, very satisfactory progress for the day, he ordered the mento run the canoe up a creek that promised well as a halting-place.After a good supper, they went on shore to find sleeping quarters forthemselves, and in a very short time ran up a wattled hut, and builtfires round it to keep off lions and other undesirable visitors. Tomwrapt himself in a rug, gave another to Mbutu, and settled himself tosleep in the stern of the canoe. He was kept awake for some time by thebright moonlight, the splashes of fish, quaint creakings and groaningsfrom the trees, the grunt of rhinoceroses, the strange whine and sighingcough of crocodiles, and the inevitable howl of jackals. He fell asleepat last.
Mbutu, meanwhile, sat in the bows, dreamily watching the shimmer of themoonbeams on the water, and pondering on his wonderful luck in thechange of masters. He was just dozing off to sleep when he noticed adark form edging along the bank. A swift glance showed him that it wasa crocodile, leaving on its nightly prowl for food. It slid noiselesslyinto the water, and, thinking that the beast was making for the oppositebank, Mbutu paid no further attention to it. But suddenly he becameaware of a small dark object approaching the canoe. There was not asound nor even a ripple on the water; but one glance was enough to a boyborn and bred as Mbutu had been in the African wilds. It was the snoutof the crocodile! At the same moment he observed with horror that hismaster, restless in his sleep, had thrown one arm over the side of thecanoe, and that the hideous jaws of the reptile were within a few feetof snapping distance. Quick as thought he stooped, clutched at the ropemooring the canoe to a small overhanging acacia, and pulled with all hisstrength. The canoe lurched forward, striking heavily against thebulging root of the tree,--and Tom awoke with a start, to see Mbutusmite the crocodile savagely over the head with a paddle.
"What is it?" he said sleepily.
"Sah nearly gobble up. Croc'dile berrah hungry. Arm berrah nice; soonall gone, sah."
Tom shivered.
"You're a brick, Mbutu," he said, "and your head's screwed on right.But for you!--ugh! it's horrid to think of!"
"Uncle, sah--" began Mbutu.
"Yes, yes; tell me all about him another time. Call up the crew. Theymust take turns at watching; and tell them to do it thoroughly."
No further hazards marred Tom's rest. In the morning, while Mbutu waspreparing their simple breakfast, Tom strolled up the reddish hillsideabove the river to survey his surroundings, carrying the field-glasspresented to him by Father Chevasse. At this spot the larger trees wereabsent, and the country around was for the most part flat and marshy,the dark-green broken here and there by patches of gaudy blossom and redclay soil. The hill commanded a view of the river for some two or threemiles, but Tom could see little but reeds, the stream itself, indeed,being scarcely perceptible as it wound in and out among the aquaticvegetation. Some distance, however, in the direction from which thecanoe had come, there was a stretch of about a quarter of a mile ofclear water, looking like a blue lake amid the green, and on this Tom'seye rested. Suddenly he saw a cloud rise up from the water, which heinstantly judged to be a huge flock of water-fowl. Then a dark objectappeared, slowly crossing the surface of the patch of blue towards him.
"Some hippo out catching the early worm," said Tom to himself, smilingafterwards as the inaptness of the phrase struck him. He raised theglass to his eyes. "No, it's not a hippo; it's a canoe! By Jove! whatif it's the dago!"
While he was still gazing at it, the canoe came within the circle ofpapyrus, and disappeared from view. Seeing another clear stretch on thenear side of this clump of reeds, Tom called to Mbutu to run up thehill. It was important to know whether they were indeed pursued. Notthat Tom was alarmed--he felt himself a match on even terms for anyPortuguese,--but he preferred not to be taken by surprise, whateverhappened. The canoe emerged from the reeds just as Mbutu reached thetop of the hill. He looked in the direction Tom pointed, and with hisnaked eye at once descried the canoe. The next moment he declaredexcitedly:
"Dago man in canoe!"
"Bosh!" said Tom, to test him. "You have dago on the brain, I'mafraid."
"White man all say bosh!" returned the boy. "No bosh! no bosh! Dagoman in canoe all same!"
Again the canoe vanished, and both observers watched tensely for itsreappearance. Twenty minutes elapsed; then it glided into view again.It was now no more than a mile away.
"Sah, see!" cried Mbutu. "Dago sure nuff."
"You are right, Mbutu. We are being followed. We needn't getflustered, but we must start at once, and eat our breakfast as we go."
Hurrying down the hill, he ordered the crew on board, and loosed therope. In another minute the canoe was bounding like a racer rapidlyup-stream.
"The dago has not yet seen us, at any rate," said Tom, "and we may getclear away without being observed at all if the men put their backs intoit."
"No, sah! Birds fly up; tell dago canoe in fro
nt. Dago know all same."
"Then it's a question of speed, eh? Well, we've the lighter canoe; crewfour and passengers two. He has the heavier canoe; crew eight andpassenger one. We shall get through where he would stick in the mud;though the water seems to have a fair depth here, worse luck. Well,Mbutu, we're not going to be overhauled; tell the men there's kibokoafter them; that'll make them hurry."
The crew paddled away swiftly, and began to sing. Tom was relieved tofind that words and tune were changed at last, but after a few bars heperemptorily stopped them.
"The dago will hear them," he said, "and it will be just as well for usnot to let him know our whereabouts. Tell them another story, Mbutu."
Tom sat rigidly in the stern, wondering how the Portuguese had got ontheir track. The course of events since he had been turned back byTom's crew twenty-four hours before was as follows. He had paddleddown-stream till he reached the place where Tom had embarked, and thensent one of his men to the village to find out what was going on there.The man returned, bringing the news that the white man had left. Furiousat being so easily outwitted, the Portuguese had then gone up himself,seized the first negro he came upon, and demanded information aboutTom's route. This the negro, obeying the instructions of his chief,given to the whole village, at first refused; whereupon the Portuguesetied him to a tree and thrashed him till the poor wretch, in sheerdesperation, told all he knew. Without wasting another moment thePortuguese started in pursuit, enraged at having lost five hours throughso simple a trick. Pressing his men, he arrived within five miles ofTom before dark, and starting again before sunrise, he had by seveno'clock crept up to within a mile of his quarry, as Tom had fortunatelydiscovered.
Tom knew nothing of all this, except that the Portuguese was close onhis heels. As his crew bent themselves to their task, he sat reviewingthe situation. He had this advantage over the Portuguese, that, havingseen the pursuer while himself unseen, he could ply his men with astronger, because more actual, incentive to speed. But he had no ideahow much farther they had yet to paddle before they reached LakeMazingo, and though two of the natives had performed the journey before,their ideas of distance were vague. If many miles remained to becovered, and the chase resolved itself into a prolonged race, Tom sawclearly enough that the Portuguese was bound to win, for, having thelarger crew, he could divide his men into relays. Given even chances,then, Tom recognized the impossibility of outdistancing the pursuer.
There remained two alternative courses: either to beach the canoe atonce and take to the woods, or to attempt some ruse. A moment'sreflection showed him that the first was unwise, for it would meanfinding a way laboriously through unknown forest, necessarily at a slowpace, and the result might be that before he could overtake theexpedition the mischief would be done. As to the second alternative,Tom racked his brains for a trick likely to succeed in throwing thePortuguese off the scent; but the only thing that suggested itself wasto run his canoe up some deep creek, and remain in hiding there untilthe larger canoe had passed and might be deemed out of harm's way. Onsecond thoughts Tom gave this up also. Failure to sight the canoe hewas chasing, and the sudden cessation of disturbance among thewater-fowl ahead, might arouse suspicion in the pursuer's mind, andprovoke him to search the creeks; and even supposing it did not, Tom'sown progress after the larger canoe had gone by would have to beregulated so cautiously that in this case also precious time would belost. Reviewing all these points, Tom came to the conclusion that hisbest plan was to hold on as he was going as long as he could, and thentrust to the accidents of the chase to make his way clear.
On they went, then, for mile after mile. The sun was now high, and thewilling negroes were panting and perspiring freely. Mbutu in the bowskept a sharp eye on the winding river behind, but so far had not caughtso much as a glimpse of the pursuing craft. About ten o'clock, when thecrew were patently flagging, the head-man spoke rapidly to Mbutu,dropping his paddle for a moment, and pointing eagerly ahead.
"What does he say?" asked Tom, observing this.
"Him say ribber make bow, sah," said Mbutu, describing an arc in theair. "Ribber go round hill; way ober hill soon, much soon. Canoe stop,master walk ober."
Tom was at first somewhat perplexed at this vague statement, but byquestioning the men he learnt that the canoe was approaching a greatbend in the river, which wound about the base of a hill some two hundredfeet high, thickly covered with scrub. The distance round the hill bythe river was about a mile and a half, while overland across the hill itwas little more than three-quarters of a mile. Mbutu explained this bycomparing the curving stream to a bent bow, and the hill path to thebow-string. Tom at once saw that if the Portuguese were close on theirheels, and chanced to know of the short cut, he might disembark half hiscrew, cross the hill, and possibly arrive at the farther end of the arcbefore Tom's canoe. In any case, if he were armed, as the natives haddeclared, there was little chance of escaping with a whole skin, or evenof escaping at all.
Tom did not take long to make up his mind what to do. The canoe wasalready approaching the bend, and he saw the hill looming up to theright, covered with purple and dark-green scrub.
"Mbutu," he said, "you take the head-man's paddle. He and I will goacross the hill and watch for the enemy. The rest of you will paddlewith all your might round the bend, and wait for me at the other end ofit. I shall then know exactly what we have to expect."
"All right, sah!" returned Mbutu. "Me paddle well too much."
The men cleverly ran the canoe alongside a moss-covered rock, and Tomsprang out, followed by the man who had given the information. Tired ashe was, the native started to run at Tom's bidding, and picked his waydeftly through what from the riverside looked impenetrable scrub, Tomsprinting behind with never a pause till they reached the top. Therethey stooped behind a low, dense bush, and scanned the horizon. Fromthis point of vantage the whole of the shining river could be seen, savewhere a knoll or bluff intercepted portions of it. Tom looked eagerlyin the direction whence he had come. Not more than a minute after hehad reached the hill-top the nose of the long canoe shot into sight.Tom scanned it through his field-glass. The crew were going strong, butthere was nothing to show whether the Portuguese had sighted the fleeingcanoe. Tom was relieved to see that he had increased his lead slightlysince the morning. On came the graceful craft; four minutes passed, andthe silent watchers saw that it was making for the bank.
"The dago, or one of his men, knows of this short cut, then," said Tomto himself. "I wonder if we left any footprints on the rock."
But the canoe grounded some distance on the farther side of Tom'slanding-place. The Portuguese jumped ashore, followed by four of hiscrew, all armed with rifles. They began the ascent, not so nimbly asTom and his companion, and without discovering any traces of earlierpedestrians. Tom gave an anxious glance at the river. His canoe wasstill a quarter of a mile from the spot which he had already marked forrejoining it. The other canoe was rounding the bend, going rather lessrapidly. A glance to the left showed him the Portuguese and his menadvancing steadily through the scrub. It was time to be off. Signingto his man to lead the way, Tom plunged after him downhill. It was evenrougher going than on the other side. Scrambling here and slidingthere, at the imminent risk of breaking his neck, or at least sprainingan ankle, Tom pelted along after his nimble guide, and arrivedbreathless at the water's edge, his clothes torn and his hands scratchedby the scrub and thorn. His canoe arrived a few moments later, and,wading quickly through the shallows, Tom and the Muganda clambered onboard.
At that instant the still air was cleft by two sharp cracks, and twobullets whizzed past, dropping harmlessly into the water. Tom looked upand saw the Portuguese, clearly in a wild state of excitement, poundingdown the hill with his four negroes. Tom's crew, exultant at having sosuccessfully escaped, raised their lusty voices in the war-chant oftheir tribe, hurling defiance at the baffled pursuers. Tom sternly badethem cease, pointing to the quarter of a mile of clear
water which theyhad still to traverse before they reached the shelter of a new clump ofreeds. Again came the crack! crack! of rifles, but the Portuguese andhis men were out of breath, and their fire was wild. One bullet hit theside of the canoe. A splinter flew up, striking one of the crew in thefleshy forearm and making a nasty gash. In a moment Tom tore a stripfrom one of his bundles of calico, and, recalling his experience ofambulance work in the cadet corps at school, swiftly bound up the wound.He then ordered Mbutu to take the wounded man's paddle, and turned towatch the doings of the enemy.
But he was already out of sight. The larger canoe, now hidden by thereeds, had just reached the horn of the curve, where the Portuguese wasawaiting it. He was in a towering passion, and heaped unmeasured abuseon his luckless crew for failing to overtake their expected prey. Bythe time he and his men were afloat again, Tom's canoe was fully a mileand a half in advance, and out of sight.
It was now past mid-day. The heat was terrible, and there had been notime for a meal since starting. Tom had nibbled a few biscuits anddrunk a little water, and his crew had munched some of their ground-nutsand cheese, relieving each other in pairs for a few minutes at a time.Tom did not dare to allow them to stop paddling altogether, for thepursuing crew could divide into larger relays, and he guessed that,having once sighted him, the Portuguese would give his men no respiteuntil they overtook him. He wondered how long his own men's marvellousstaying-power would hold out. Watching them anxiously, he saw withconcern that, as the afternoon wore on, their strokes became lesscertain and put less and less way on the canoe. Mbutu, willing lad,relieved the others in turn at intervals, but, though he had said thathe could "paddle well too much", it was obvious that he was out oftraining, as well as muscularly less hardy than the stalwart negroes.
About five o'clock Mbutu, again in his old place in the bow, criedsuddenly:
"Dago man come close!"
Tom glanced round. The larger canoe was no more than three-quarters ofa mile behind, and its crew gave a whoop of delight when they saw howthey had gained on the other. The Portuguese stood up in the stern, and,raising his rifle to his shoulder, fired. Mbutu instinctively ducked,and it was well he did so, for the bullet flew by within an inch of hishead and plumped into the water a few yards beyond. Tom's canoe thenrounded a bend, and once more the pursuers were lost to view.
Half an hour later the two vessels were again in sight of each other,and now were scarcely half a mile apart. Another shot came whizzingthrough the air, and passed between the two Baganda nearest Mbutu. Theygave a slight shudder as they heard its weird ping, and bent franticallyto their paddles. Tom's mouth was set, and there came into his blueeyes the steely expression which had always given his school-fellows afeeling of expectancy and apprehension. He did not think of himself.He thought only of his uncle and the Portuguese, of how for his uncle'ssake he must by hook or by crook evade the clutches of the conspiratorbehind. His feeling towards the pursuer was curiously impersonal, thesame kind of feeling that he would have had towards a bowler atcricket--a skilled player to keep his eye on and beat if he could. Hesaw that but for some unforeseen accident he would be compelled to taketo the woods within a very few minutes, and then, though he was resolvednot to be captured, he would give little for his chances of reaching theexpedition in time.
At this critical moment his eye lit on a tree overhanging the river,which had here narrowed to little more than a gorge between steep banks.It was light in the trunk, but very thick in foliage. A second glanceshowed him that the roots, protruding from loose red soil, were almostbare, and he instantly inferred that a recent storm, and probably theflooding of the river, had shaken their hold. A third glance as thecanoe brought him nearer made it plain that, but for a rope-work ofclimbing plants which had woven itself about the trunk, the tree wouldhave already fallen across the stream.
Tom saw here a bare chance of escape, and, with characteristic readinessto seize the merest semblance of an opportunity, he prepared to make themost of it. As the canoe shot along beneath the overhanging branches,he marked a small rivulet that cut a way through the bank just beyondthe tree. In a ringing voice, careless now whether his pursuer heardhim or not, he ordered the men to run the canoe ashore, then to followhim up the narrow watercourse with their axes. In half a minute he hadswarmed up the bank; in another half the men's keen axes had torn awaythe climbing-plant supports. His men threw themselves _en masse_ uponthe trunk, and just as the enemy's canoe came within two hundred paces,the tree fell with a loud crash, and lay across from bank to bank,completely blocking the waterway with its tangle of boughs and leaves.Springing down the bank again, Tom and his panting crew jumped into thecanoe, and were three hundred yards up-stream and nearly out of sightbefore the Portuguese had realized the impossibility of continuing thechase on the water. He wasted some minutes in a vain attempt to draghis craft over the obstruction, and a few more in flinging curses afterTom and firing at random over the tree; then he landed with his crew,and began to chase his quarry along the shore. But before he had run aquarter of a mile he found himself up to his knees in ooze, and, afterfloundering helplessly about for a time, he fired one vindictive shotand relinquished the pursuit.
Not till then did Tom allow his crew to relax their efforts.
"Easy all; you have done well!" he cried.
They shipped their paddles gladly. They were gasping for breath; thesinews of their arms stood out like whip-cord, and their streaming faceshad taken on the livid hue that is the only paleness a black knows. Tomhimself, after the tension of the last hour, felt limp and unstrung, andit was with a sigh of thankfulness that he heard Mbutu, interpreting oneof the natives, inform him that the marshy flats at which they hadarrived formed the eastern extremity of Lake Mazingo. The sun was justsetting, and in the fast-gathering darkness he could descry the giganticforms of hippopotamuses and rhinoceroses taking their evening bath inthe mud.
Feeling assured that the surrounding swamp would effectually protect himfrom any nocturnal surprise on the part of the Portuguese, Tom gaveorders to the men to make as good a meal as they could, and then tosleep in the canoe, taking turns to watch. For himself, he stayed hishunger with a few bananas that Mbutu had put aside for him, somebiscuits, and a cake of unleavened millet produced by his thoughtfulhenchman. He examined the wounded man's arm, and gave it a freshdressing; then, worn out by the anxieties and excitements of the day, hewrapped himself in his rug, gazed up at the benignant stars, and fellfast asleep.
Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest Page 6