Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER VI

  Unmasked

  Cross Questions--Crooked Answers--The Guide Tells his Story--Rumaliza'sPlot--The Coming Fight

  It was eight o'clock next morning when Tom opened his eyes and tried toremember where he was. Stretching himself on the narrow camp-bed, thetwinge that shot from his calves to his shoulders reminded him of histwo days' tramp, and he hoped very sincerely that the force was not tomove on at once. Luckily for him his uncle had decided to give the mena rest for a few hours, at any rate until the return of the scouts, whohad started at six o'clock. The doctor, coming into the tent soon afternine, insisted on his taking a hot bath, and then spent an hour inmassaging him. It was in vain that Tom protested against being coddled.

  "Coddled indeed! You've a march and a fight in front of you, and ye'llwant the free use of your limbs and all your staying-power, sure."

  "A fight!" said Tom eagerly; "d'you think Uncle Jack will let me takepart in it, Doctor?"

  The doctor smiled grimly.

  "I don't know about Uncle Jack, young man, but if you're not in it therewill be no fight at all."

  Pondering this enigmatical utterance, Tom left the tent by and by andstrolled round the camp. Captain Lister met him and greeted him warmly,without a word as to what had brought him, and when he encountered hisuncle, who was, as usual, full of activity, yet without a vestige offussiness, that capital soldier had time to grip his hand and hope hewas getting "fit".

  The four Europeans were sitting beneath the flap of the tent, eating alate breakfast of roast goat and banana fritters, when LieutenantMumford returned with his little body of Soudanese scouts and reportedhimself. Tom had seen very little of him during the few days he hadspent at Kisumu, and then thought he was too dandified and lackadaisicalto be of much use on active service. He was therefore somewhatsurprised now to hear what a business-like and competent account thelieutenant gave of his movements. He had penetrated, he said, to withintwo miles of the hills beyond which lay the objective of the expedition.He had met with no sign of the enemy, Arab or native, but had seen manya proof of their depredations in the ruined huts and blackened fieldspassed on the way. The native populations, sparse in these regions atany time, seemed now to have been either exterminated or carried intocaptivity. What the guide had said about the nature of the country, andthe difficulty of procuring food, was perfectly true; and the scouts hadonly turned back when they reached the near end of the defile he hadmentioned, Mumford considering it useless to spend time in traversing aperfectly open route.

  "Very well," said the major. "You'd better get something to eat now,Mumford."

  "There's one thing I ought to mention first. We've brought back anative with us, sir--from Visegwe's country, he said. He told us thathis village had been raided by Arabs, and himself carried off as a slaveand employed as a porter and general hack. His account of how heescaped is rather tall, but I can only repeat what he said. He wasmarching with the rest of his gang when a couple of rhinoceroses chargedthe column, and threw things into such confusion that he found a chanceto slip away. He was making his way back home when he met us, so Ithought it just as well to bring him along in case he could give us someuseful information."

  "Quite right, Mumford. Send the fellow here. Tom, I suppose that boyof yours is a bit of a linguist, eh? He may as well do theinterpreting."

  While Lieutenant Mumford was gone to fetch the native, the major tookout his map and spread it out on a space cleared on the folding table.

  "Yes, I see," he said; "if this native comes from the Arab quartersbeyond the Rutchuru, his road homewards would lie across our line ofmarch. He may be useful to us. A strapping fellow, Corney; look athim."

  The negro, a finely proportioned young Ankoli, some twenty-five years ofage, came up under a guard of Soudanese, who left him standing beforethe major. In answer to questions, he repeated the story given byLieutenant Mumford, with some variations which might have been due toMbutu's capacity for translation. He added that while hiding in theWutaka hills, with the Kutchuru spread out before him, he had seen theArabs cross the river and disappear among the hills to the west,retiring no doubt to the distant stronghold whence they made theirraids. The man told his story frankly and ingenuously, and answered themajor's questions without hesitation. As he described the atrocitiescommitted by the Arabs, his language and gestures were expressive ofintense indignation, and indicated that no vengeance could be tooterrible for his oppressors.

  "Do you know a place called Imubinga?" asked the major quietly, when theman had finished.

  At the word, Tom, who was watching him intently, saw his eyelids droopfor the fraction of a second. Imubinga! Yes, he knew it; a desertedvillage a mile or so on the other side of the hills; a capitalcamping-place, being sheltered by forests trees and well situated asregards water. The major made a rough plan with bits of biscuit andstalks of grass, and asked the native to show him as well as he couldthe whereabouts of Imubinga, knowing that the African is very clever inthus constructing picture plans. This done, he marked the placetentatively on his map and dismissed the man.

  "Gentlemen," he said, when the negro was out of earshot, "the man is aliar--quite an accomplished one. His masters could hardly have chosen abetter man for the job."

  The three officers and Tom looked at the major, waiting in silence forthe explanation of this discovery. At this moment Mbutu, who had forsome time been showing signs of great excitement, broke in impetuously:

  "Black man talk bosh! All one lie. Him no slave not at all! Him bigawful liar!"

  "Your young man has an emphatic way of expressing himself," said themajor; "you had better tell him, Tom, to hold his tongue until he isasked to speak, and in fact to leave us. But he is right. A slave whohad been employed in carrying ivory for the Arabs would bear the marksof a collar and fetters. Looking at that handsome Ankoli I failed tofind these marks, and suspected the man. You will see now that I framedmy questions in such a way as to give him rope, and the way he acted hispart and worked up the passion was amazingly clever. But he overdid it,as they always will. What do you make of it all, Lister?"

  Now in a scrimmage Captain Lister was a host in himself, but at thecouncil-board he was not fluent. Contentedly pulling at his shortbrier, all he said was:

  "Rummy, eh? What!"

  Things had meanwhile been crystallizing in Tom's mind. The ambush hadbeen foremost in his thoughts for many days past; possibly that was thereason why the suggestion came from him. However that may be, it was hewho remarked quietly:

  "D'you think the pretended slave is a confederate of the guide's,Uncle?"

  The major looked dubious. He liked to see every step in theprocess--all the working of the sum, so to speak.

  "Fadl," he said, "just order the guide Munta to step this way."

  The major's orderly, a Soudanese more than six feet high, stalked intothe camp square.

  "Now, Mbutu," called the major, "come here; I want you to stand out ofsight in the tent there till I beckon you. By the way, Tom, that dagofellow had a name, I suppose. What is it?"

  "I never heard it, Uncle. Mbutu has always called him 'old master' or'dago man' to me. What was your master's name, Mbutu?"

  "Black man call him debbil, sah."

  "Never mind what the black man calls him, what do the Arabs call him?What did this guide of ours call him?"

  "Call him senor, padrone; one time call him Castro, one time more callhim Carvalho; him lot names too many."

  "Bedad now," exclaimed the doctor, "it all comes back to me.Carvalho!--of course, 'tis the name of the Portuguese who gave us no endof trouble in Quid Calabar ten years ago. I disremimbered'm entirely;ten years makes a terrible difference in a man, to be sure; though whenI saw Tom knock him down there was something in the creature's scowlthat seemed familiar. Sure an' I ought to have remimbered his bumps. Adesp'rate ruff'n of a fellow, Major. He came to me wance to be st
itchedup after getting mauled in a drunken brawl, an' I got to know a thing ortwo about'm. Ah! an' there was wan curious affair he was mixed up inthat--

  "I'm afraid the story must keep, Doctor; here's the guide."

  Captain Lister put down his pipe; Lieutenant Mumford lit a cigarette.The Arab, or rather half-caste, approached confidently and saluted. Themajor looked up.

  "Have you any reason to give," he said quietly, "why you should not betaken out and shot?"

  The man stared open-mouthed at the speaker. His face appeared to turn abronze-green, and his lips twitched. The major was watching himintently.

  "I don't--I don't understand, master," he stammered at length.

  "Ah! Let us begin at the beginning. Do you know one Castro, aPortuguese, who was in Kisumu for some days before we started?"

  The man, with a strong effort of will, had mastered the agitation intowhich the major's sudden question had thrown him.

  "He is going to brazen it out," said that observant officer to himself;and after the slightest perceptible pause, the Arab replied:

  "I do not know him, sir."

  "Very well."

  He beckoned to Mbutu, who had been standing with his face concealed bythe flap of the tent. The Muhima came out into the sunlight.

  "Do you know this boy?"

  Tom saw the Arab's eyelids quiver.

  "No--I do not know him, master. I never saw him before."

  Major Burnaby turned to the Muhima.

  "Mbutu, is this the man?" he asked.

  "Him sure nuff, sah; him gib me kiboko."

  "The boy lies. I never saw him; I know nothing about him."

  "Very well. I shall have to refresh your memory. Fadl, tell SergeantAbdullah to bring up a firing-party."

  There was a strained silence. The Arab looked round apprehensively assix men of the King's African Rifles came up, ordered arms, and stoodrigidly at attention.

  The major took his watch from his pocket and laid it on the table infront of him.

  "I give you five minutes," he said. "If you do not make up your mind totell the truth within five minutes by my watch--well, you know what'llhappen."

  The major glanced significantly at the line of Soudanese. Hedeliberately cut and lit a cigar. Captain Lister had resumed his pipeand was puffing vigorously; Lieutenant Mumford gripped the sides of hisseat, and stared; while the doctor was apparently examining the Arab'sanatomy with a quite professional interest. To Tom his uncle wasappearing in a new light, commanding a new respect and admiration; andas to Mbutu, he was patently overawed by the stern imperturbability of"sah him uncle".

  The minutes went by. The silence of the bright morning was broken onlyby the varied sounds of movement in the camp: the laughter of theZanzibaris; the clash of a cook's pan; the bleat of a goat led to theslaughter.

  "You have half a minute," said the major suddenly.

  "I know nothing, master, nothing at all," replied the guide, his lipsquivering.

  There was again silence. Then the major rapped his hand on the table.

  "Now!" he said. "What have you to say?"

  "I know nothing about it, nothing about it!" persisted the man.

  "I've no time to waste," said the major curtly, replacing his watch."Sergeant, take him away."

  Two of the tall Soudanese laid their hands on the guide's arms. Hewriggled out of their grasp and flung himself on the ground. Theyseized him again, assisted by their comrades; and, strugglingdesperately, crying continually: "I know nothing about it, know nothingabout it!" he was carried away. Tom's heart was in his mouth, andMumford had sprung up in his excitement. Captain Lister still smoked onplacidly; while the major's lips were grimly set as he watched the man'scontortions. He had been borne but a few yards when his writhingsuddenly ceased.

  "Don't take me away, don't take me away!" he shrieked. "I will tell, Iwill tell!"

  At a sign from the major the Soudanese returned to the tent, and thewretched man stood before him, thoroughly cowed, and trembling in everylimb.

  "You will tell! Perhaps you are wise. You will tell me everything fromthe beginning. Mind, I make no promises; but it is your only chance!"

  The major dismissed the Soudanese, and the man began in a low faintvoice to tell his story. It was as follows:--

  About two miles before reaching Imubinga, the path led across a mountainstream some ten feet deep and thirty wide, spanned by a native bridge.The river had cut a deep ravine between two high hills, and its steepbanks were covered with dense forest growth, huge trees crowning thesummit. The bank at which the expedition would first arrive had beenunequally worn away, and some two hundred and fifty feet above thestream, almost overhanging the bridge, was a prominent bluff,projecting, as the guide put it, like the nose from a man's face. Thishad been the scene of a memorable incident during the invasion of thedistrict by the Baganda some fifty years before. As a force of Bagandawere crossing the bridge, a number of tree trunks, previously felled,had been rolled over the edge of the bluff, and crashing down upon themhad killed many outright, and thrown the whole force into such confusionthat it fell an easy prey to the enemy. The Baganda were massacredalmost to a man. This incident had passed into the traditions of thecountry; warriors sang about it round their camp-fires, and motherscrooned their babies to rest with the song of "The Ambush by theBridge".

  The same plan was to be pursued now. In the fifty years which hadelapsed since the earlier ambuscade, trees had again grown to maturityon the headland. Some of these had been felled, and the moment was tobe seized, when half the column had crossed the river, to roll thetrunks down upon the bridge. The Arabs, meanwhile, and their Manyemawarriors, divided into two bands, one up and the other down stream,would be lying concealed in the forest sufficiently far from the bridgeto avoid the British scouts. When the logs had been hurled down, andthe troops were in confusion, a signal was to be given from the summitof the bluff; the Arabs were to emerge from their hiding-places, andmake a simultaneous attack on the force hemmed in between them. Theyreckoned that the rear part of the column, deprived of the support ofthose who had already passed over the bridge, and encumbered with thebaggage, would be as sheep in their hands. These having been disposedof, the first half, left without any reserve of ammunition and food,could be dealt with at leisure.

  "Jolly good scheme!" remarked Captain Lister admiringly, between twopuffs, when the man had finished his story.

  "They must think we're pretty green, sir," said Lieutenant Mumford,unable to conceal his scorn of such tactics. Captain Lister eyed himfor a moment, but said nothing. The major was drumming on the table,looking thoughtfully at the guide, while the doctor waved a handkerchiefto keep off the flies.

  "That is the truth, is it?" said the major at last. "And you were sentto help me to find the way! I have heard of worse schemes. But how didyou expect to escape?"

  The Arab shifted his feet uneasily.

  "Not that that matters. But I should like to know a little more. I amnot marching against the Arabs; why are your friends so concerned aboutour operations against a native chief? What is the motive? Tell methat."

  Relieved that the major's interrogation was no longer so uncomfortablypersonal to himself, the guide went on with his narrative.

  Far away in the west, he said, beyond Imubinga, beyond the Rutchuru andthe hills, in the heart of the Congo forest, his friends had astronghold, so well hidden that the forces of the Congo Free State hadnever succeeded in finding it. Even if they had found it they would havefailed to take it, for the place was absolutely impregnable. To thisfortress a remnant of Arab dealers in ivory and slaves had retired whenthe power of Hamed ben Juna, more commonly known by the natives'nickname, Tippu Tib, and his lieutenants was broken by the Belgianforces, and there they still pursued their vocation by stealth, theirspies marking every movement of the Free State officials, their alliesdrawing the enemy off when he came dangerously near. In the course ofsome years they had amassed a huge store of ivor
y, and collected somethousands of slaves, some of these latter being employed in tilling thesoil and supplying their captors with the necessaries of life; whileothers were traded away for ivory to the cannibal tribes of the middleCongo. It was, however, becoming increasingly difficult to elude theFree State authorities, and the circle of their traffic was graduallynarrowing. The old chief Rumaliza, whom the Belgians supposed to havedied in the forest after the capture of Kabambari, was still alive,looking with alarm at the prospect of having to feed his horde of slaveswithout any chance of a profitable deal. Hemmed in by the British,German, and Free State territories, which were all being brought rapidlyunder effective control by the respective European administrators, heforesaw inevitable ruin, soon or late. He was anxious, therefore, torealize his wealth and retire to the coast, and in pursuance of this aimhe had resolved on one final coup, a last expiring effort of theslave-trade. His plan was to form a huge caravan, transport all hisslaves to the coast, and ship them to Arabia.

  "Oh, come now!" exclaimed the major at this point, "that must benonsense. It's close on a thousand miles to the nearest point of thecoast, and your friends are not fools enough to imagine that they couldmake a slave run without having us upon their tracks."

  Then the guide proceeded to unfold a plot at which his younger hearersheld their breath, and even the major himself, old and seasoned hand ashe was, could scarcely restrain an exclamation of astonishment. TheArabs, said the man, had in their camp a number of deposed Banyoro andBaganda chiefs, whose conduct had been such as to preclude any chance oftheir regaining their position while the British occupation continued.These men, having nothing to lose and everything to gain, hadestablished communications with every Mahomedan in Uganda and Unyoro whowas known to be disaffected. At a given signal the latter were to rise;and the signal was to be the defeat of a British column. Where thedefeat was to take place had not been disclosed to the disaffected inUganda, lest the plot should be divulged. It had been perfected by thePortuguese during his stay in Kisumu. It was known that only a weakBritish force was available for operations in the southern part of theProtectorate. A small native chief was to be persuaded to revolt, andit was hoped that the affair would be regarded as of so littleconsequence that only a handful of troops would be employed to crushhim. The revolt had taken place as arranged, but owing to MajorBurnaby's energy the punitive column was stronger than the Arabs hadanticipated. Still, with a numerical advantage of two to one, withoutcounting their native allies and dependants, the Arabs were not so muchdisheartened as to abandon their plans. They confidently expected thatthe ambush would result in the annihilation of the British force. Thenews was to be conveyed to the scattered conspirators with the rapiditywith which news always flies through native Africa; a picked force wasto seize rail-head, after overpowering, or at least harassing, the smallgarrisons at Entebbe, Kisumu, and other military stations, and, ifpossible, to foment a general rising among the populace. Takingadvantage of the confusion, the Arabs, with their satellites, were torun the slaves by forced marches to the western shore of the Nyanza,carry them over in canoes, and thence for a hundred and fifty milesalong the railway, and then make for a spot on the coast of ItalianSomaliland, whence they could ship them to Arabia.

  "'Faith, I would like to examine the cranium of the man who devised thatcrazy scheme!" cried the doctor. "He must be's mad's a hatter!"

  The major was in no mood to indulge in quips with Dr. O'Brien. His mindwas wholly concentrated on the task which had opened before him. He satsilent and abstracted, seeming even to have forgotten the presence ofthe traitor. Recovering himself in a moment, he said quietly:

  "Go away. You will be kept under arrest for the rest of the march; seeto that, Mr. Mumford. When we are through with this business I'llconsider what's to be done with you. Take him away. There's the otherman now," continued the major, when the guide had been removed. "It isjust worth while to see if his story corroborates the one we have justheard. Fadl, fetch the captured slave."

  It was short work with him. A rumour had already run through the campthat the guide was in trouble, and the Ankoli wore an anxious look whenhe came up. The major told him in one sentence that his friend Muntahad confessed; and the man at once volunteered to unbosom himself. Hisstory differed from the other merely in ornaments. To the major'senquiries he replied that the Arabs were about nine hundred and fiftystrong, and their allies rather more than a thousand. Many of theformer were armed with Mausers, smuggled in through German East Africa.The rest of them had Sniders and other obsolete rifles ("Good enough inforest fighting" was the practical remark of Captain Lister), while theManyema for the most part had only very old muskets in addition tospears.

  "That rings true," said the major. "Has he anything more to tell?"

  "Him say true, all berrah much," said Mbutu, who had interpreted."Eberyfing told; know no more."

  "Very well Fadl, take him and tie him up. Gentlemen, it is now pasteleven o'clock. We will strike camp and be off in about an hour. Wehave, it appears, between five and six miles to go. That will take usfull two hours. If the story we have heard is true--and for myself,strange as it is, I have no doubt about it--we shall have no difficultyin locating these Arabs. We shall fight at three; that will leave usthree hours of daylight. That will suffice, I think. Lister, I shouldlike a word with you."

  "That means tactics, I suppose," said the doctor. "Well, while you'retalking, I will tache Tom to help me pick up the pieces. Come along, mybhoy."