CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH--Trapped
The failure of their determined assault had evidently discouraged theenemy, for during the following day they scarcely showed themselves.John was disappointed, however, to find that it had not caused them tobreak up their camp. The stock of food in the fort was seriouslydeplenished; but after the spirit the enemy had displayed he felt thatthe chances of surviving a running fight with them would be small. Thenotion of slipping away in the darkness again occurred to him, and as hetalked it over with Ferrier it suddenly came into his head to make apreliminary night sortie himself, to see how the land lay on the side ofthe fort remote from the enemy.
"We can carry one of the canoes to that end, lift it over the wall, andlaunch it without being seen."
"If there are none of the enemy about," said Ferrier. "You remember wesaw a party of them cross the river to-day and march in that direction,foraging, I suppose."
"Yes, but we've never seen or heard a sign of them at night."
"That's true."
"And I say, I've another idea. We want food badly: why shouldn't I goout at night with Bill and a few others and shoot something?"
"Are you quite mad, my dear chap? Your shots would bring them on you inno time."
"Of course I shouldn't attempt to shoot anything until we were milesaway from the camp. We could cover five or six miles before it waslight, and if we take care not to go to windward they won't hear asingle rifle-shot. A volley would be a different thing, I grant you."
"I doubt whether the reeds on that side of the pool are thick enough tohide the canoe, and if they discover it----"
"There's no need to hide it," John interrupted. "One of the men canpaddle it back, and come for us again when we give you a hail. We shallhave to return by night, of course."
"Well, you bowl over my objections one after another, so I suppose youmust go. Can't I come too?"
"We can't both leave the place."
"Well, why shouldn't I go and you stay?"
"You see, I understand Bill better than you do, and he'll be the one tofind the game. I really think, Charley, this time----"
"Oh, all right!" said Ferrier, interrupting. "This time, and that time,and all the other times!"
"But you fired the boma!"
"Is that to last me for ever?"
"And came to find me, fighting: what about that? Still, if you want togo----"
"Not a bit of it, old man. It's your idea; you go; I'll run over in mymind all the poetry I know and see if I can get a happy thought likeSaid Mohammed."
Two hours before dawn the canoe was gently lowered by ropes over thewall at the end of the fort opposite the gate. Here, it will beremembered, the slope of the ground immediately beneath the wall wassteep, but the island jutted out, in a fairly level spit, for somedistance into the pool. John, the Wanderobbo, and five other men werelet down in the same way, four of them to accompany John as carriers ofany game he might obtain, the fifth to paddle the canoe back when theyhad landed. The night was very dark; they moved with scarcely a sound;and having gained the further shore John and his companions struck offacross country.
John's intention had been to go directly north, but when Bill told himthat the banks of the river would be the most likely quarter in which tofind game at sunrise, when the animals came down to drink, he resolvedto strike off in a north-westerly direction, from which quarter the windblew, and gain the river somewhere north of the rapids. They marchedvery quickly, the plain on this side of the river being open, came tothe river-bank in about half-an-hour, and then tramped along up-stream,careful not to approach the water too closely for fear of crocodiles.At dawn they were, John thought, at least five miles from the fort, buthe decided to go a mile or two farther before beginning operations, tolessen any risk of shots being heard in the camp.
The river wound this way and that, now between level banks, now borderedby steep bluffs thick with overhanging trees. The current was alwaysswift, and John had been conscious ever since the start that the groundwas gradually rising. Bill did not stick closely to the river: indeed,that would have been impossible; he sought the easiest way, which ledsometimes through scrub, sometimes over stretches of bare rock whichtried John's boots sorely, sometimes through patches of woodland:always, however, coming to the river at last. From one elevatedposition to which they came John looked back and, now that the morninghaze had lifted, saw the river serpentining behind him, and in the fardistance the pool gleaming in the sunlight, the island and fort a darkspot in the midst.
At last he considered that he had come far enough to be out of earshotfrom the enemy's camp, and since the nearest village, the abode of the"bad men," was about a day's march to the north-west, he felt that nodanger was to be anticipated from that quarter. Accordingly the partyof six descended to the level of the river, and Bill began his searchfor game-tracks. The river here flowed through narrow channels betweengreat boulders of a pinkish rock, the brink being lined with reeds.Before long Bill came upon the spoor of a hippopotamus, and sincenecessity knows no law, John thought himself justified in following itup, in spite of the technical transgression of the terms of his licence.He was not shooting for sport, he reflected, but for food.
They came at length to a rocky pool. Bill halted, and pointing to anoverhanging rock on the other side, drew John's attention to a gentlerippling disturbance of the water. In a moment appeared two rednostrils covered with coarse black hair. John lifted his rifle, butBill signed to him to wait, and after a few seconds the nostrils sankbelow the surface: the animal had merely risen to breathe. They all satdown on the bank to await his reappearance. Several times duringhalf-an-hour he showed just as much of himself, and no more. This wastantalizing. Would he never emerge? John's patience at length gaveout. He thought that if he could cross to the other side he might get afair shot at the beast, or at least stir him to movement. Lookingdown-stream, he saw that some little distance away the surface of theriver was broken, which indicated shallow water. He hastened to thespot, and stripping to his shirt, waded across waist deep, climbed thebank, and stealthily crept up until he came directly over the placewhere the hippo had last appeared.
Scarcely had he arrived there when the beast heaved its great back, witha convulsion of the water, above the surface a little farther up thepool. In an instant the rifle was at his shoulder: he fired; the hippogave a snort, and the water around him was agitated as by an immensechurn. Quick as thought John fired the second barrel: and the beastrolled over on its side, with a bullet through the brain.
"The hippo gave a snort, and the water around him wasagitated as by an immense churn."]
The four porters shouted with delight, and plunged into the water todrag the carcase to the bank with the cords they had brought with them.The current, however, carried it downwards, and wedged it between tworocks so tightly that, when they had tied the cords to the feet, alltheir hauling failed for a time to dislodge it. John was determined tosecure the prey, which would provide two days' food for his whole party,so he stripped off his sole remaining garment and, first spying forcrocodiles, swam to the assistance of the men. After ten minutes'hauling the unwieldy body was freed from the detaining rocks and drawnslowly to the bank.
The men immediately set to work to cut it up with their knives. Whilethey were engaged in this task, John resolved to go a little farther insearch of more delicate fare for Ferrier and himself. Rolling on thegrass to dry himself, he put on his clothes and set off up-stream withthe Wanderobbo, instructing the others to retrace their steps slowly sosoon as they had tied up their loads. They had proceeded but a shortdistance when Bill discovered the track of congoni which had recentlycome down to the river to drink. Following it up, they by and by camein sight of a small herd moving leisurely across the plain to the left.Being to windward of them, it would be impossible to stalk themdirectly. The only chance of getting a shot was to make a long detourand come upon them from the further side. John's sporting instinctswer
e roused. There was no fear of losing the track of his men, so hestruck off with Bill at right angles to the river, and after walkingrapidly for half-an-hour in a wide curve, Bill never losing sight of thegame, they got ahead of them, and took cover in a clump of trees whichthe animals must pass if they did not change their direction. They camevery slowly, and before reaching the trees swerved somewhat to theright. It was now or never. John took aim at the nearest of the herd,which presented its flank to him. His first shot brought it down: therest, raising their heads and looking round for a moment, galloped off;and Bill hurried forward with John to cut from the dead beast as much ashe could carry.
It was by this time more than an hour since they had left the men; andsince it would be at least another hour before they could overtake them,John decided to hurry back as soon as Bill had prepared his load. He wassitting at the edge of the clump of trees, clasping his knees, andwatching Bill's deft movements a few yards away, when he heard a slightrustling behind him. Thinking it might be a lion or hyena attracted bythe scent of the game, he sprang up, grasping his rifle, only to bethrown on to his back by the onset of near a score of yelling savages.He had no opportunity of defending himself. His rifle had been knockedfrom his hand and was now in the possession of a tall Swahili, whogrinned at him with malicious triumph as he lay on the ground, andordered the savages to turn him over and tie his hands behind his back.Meanwhile some of the party had dashed after the Wanderobbo, who hadfled towards the river at the first alarm. The old man was soon caught;John was hoisted to his feet; and in a few minutes he had themortification of knowing that he was being marched, a prisoner, in adirection the exact opposite of the fort.
The men were in an ecstasy of delight over their capture. They laughedand jabbered among themselves, but John was unable to recognize thedialect. He could not ask Bill who they were, for the crestfallen oldman was kept at a distance from him. His hands also had been tiedbehind his back. John ventured once to speak to the Swahili, but theonly answer was a grunt.
They marched on, with intervals for rest, but without food, for the restof the day. The country became more and more hilly as they proceeded,but the Swahili, who led the way, was evidently familiar with it. Justbefore sunset they came in sight of a stockaded village, perched up on ahill, and surrounded by wide well-cultivated fields. The Swahili calleda halt while they were still some distance from the stockade, and,leaving his prisoners in the charge of a dozen of the men, went forwardwith the rest to the gate. There he held a long parley with thevillagers, whom John could see thronging the stockade. The Swahiliturned several times and pointed towards him, and then the talk beganagain, with much excited gesturing. John could not guess the meaning ofthe pantomime; the only thing that was clear was that it had somereference to him. At length, when it was almost dark, the Swahiliturned away from the gate and came back to the remainder of his party.Whatever the subject of the discussion had been, the result wasevidently satisfactory, for a contented smile overspread the man'sswarthy face. He gave a curt order to the men: the prisoners werelifted from the ground where they had been laid, and urged towards thevillage with ungentle proddings from their captors' spears. Theyentered the gate and passed through a vast throng of excited people.John was now able to exchange a few words with Bill, who told himmiserably that this was the village of the "bad men" who had destroyedthe ivory caravan. There was no time for more; the two prisoners wereagain separated; amid yells from the men and shrieks of laughter fromthe women John was hustled into a noisome hut, and there left, tired andfamished, to chew the cud of bitter reflection, amid the pressingattentions of innumerable pestilent insects.
"Here's a pretty go!" he thought. "I suppose they won't eat me, butwhat will they do? This Swahili is surely one of Juma's gang, but whatis he doing here? If what Bill says is true, there'll be no love lostbetween Juma and these people. What a precious fool I've been! Iwonder if those poor wretches with the hippo meat are collared too? Goodheavens! if they get back safe to the fort, I hope Ferrier won't be madenough to come to the rescue. If he does it's good-bye for us all. Oh!_what_ a fool I am!"
To know one's folly is a stage towards wisdom: many men never get sofar.
John groaned, and shook his head and body in a vain attempt to get ridof his persistent visitors. He tried to release his arms, but failed.At last, exhausted by fatigue and want of food, and resigned to thestings he could not avoid, he fell into an uneasy sleep.
Next morning, as soon as it was light, he was taken out of the hut, hisarms were unbound, and he was given a bunch of bananas, which he ateravenously, surrounded by a chattering, grinning crowd of villagers,men, women, and children, who watched him curiously, making what he feltto be very personal remarks. He looked around for his companion inmisfortune, but could not see him. He made signs that he was thirsty,and a girl brought him a gourd of a sweetish-bitter liquor, which hedrained at a draught, and felt so silly that he wondered if he wasdrunk. Then there was a great shouting, and the men went away. Ontheir departure the women drew nearer, touched his clothes and hisbandolier and ran back giggling, pointed to his fair skin where hisshirt was open at the neck, whereat he blushed and they shrieked. Onesportive damsel tugged at the leather watch-chain attached to his belt,and screamed when his silver watch came out of its fob. He thought witha kind of fuddled amusement that he might impress them by letting themhear it tick, and when one came and tried to pull his hair, he held thewatch to her ear, and she fled away screeching.
What was going on? he wondered. There was a great stirring in thevillage. A man passed, and John saw that his face was hideously daubedwith white, and his head surrounded with the skin of some animal. Hecarried a spear. Others similarly attired and armed came by. He got upto watch them more closely, and the spectators fell back and made a widecircle about him. Beyond them, in the centre of the village, men werethronging together. It flashed upon him in a moment: they were forminga war-party. The Swahili had come to enlist their aid. Whatinducements he had held out could only be guessed. Probably he had toldthem that a white man with great treasure was at their mercy. "Poor oldCharley!" thought John: "it'll be a miracle if he isn't overwhelmed."For one mad moment he thought of making a dash to the gate, only torealize that he would never reach it alive. He groaned aloud, and thewretched little urchins around mocked him, booing with vast enjoyment.
Then he saw the Swahili approaching with the chief in all his war-paint.They stood opposite him, talking loud and fast, with manygesticulations. They were growing angry: what were they disputingabout? The Swahili pointed in the direction of the fort: the chiefshook his head and shouted. Could they be discussing whether to takehim with them or leave him behind? With all his heart he hoped theywould decide for the former course: he might perhaps escape from themwhen they approached the fort. But no: presently the Swahili sullenlygave way: John guessed that he felt that numbers were against him. Whatwas his fate to be? Was he to be held as a hostage for the duefulfilment of promises held out? He could not tell. It was clear thathe was to be left in the village.
The muster was complete. Amid a tremendous clamour the war-party movedtowards the gate. With a sinking of the heart John guessed at theirnumber: there must be three or four hundred. They marched out, theSwahili among them, leaving two of his party evidently to keep a watchon the prisoners--or the prisoner, for where was Bill? They had ofcourse recognized him as a Wanderobbo: had they butchered him at once?No: there he was, at the entrance of a small hut thirty yards away. Johntook courage at the sight of him. If he was spared, it must be because,being employed by white men, he might have some commercial value. Itoccurred to John now that Juma, the prime mover in these machinations,would probably stop short of the actual murder of a white man, and mighthold him to ransom. But this did not relieve his anxiety about Ferrier.The young Canadian would certainly not yield without a struggle, and inthat struggle he might well lose his life.
The two men left on guard tied his hands aga
in and took him back to hishut. John made them understand by signs that he did not wish to becooped up in its foetid atmosphere, and they let him sit at theentrance, standing close by with their spears. He saw now that he wasat the highest part of the village, overlooking a vast expanse of thelower country. There was the war-party, already a dark blot amid thegreen. He could see the river winding its way for miles and miles overthe plain, until it became little more than a silver streak in thesunlight. Was it his fancy, or did he descry in the far distance theisland like a black spot on a silver plate?
Suddenly he remembered that he had in his pocket the little mirror withwhich he had signalled to Ferrier on the march from the farm. Perhapshe could signal to him now--tell him of his plight, and warn him of thereinforcement of the enemy. The warning would be of little use to him,for he could not materially strengthen his defences; but it would atleast show him the folly and the impossibility of attempting a rescue.Neither his guards nor the villagers would understand what he was about.He took the mirror from his pocket. The group of onlookers who hadnever left him came nearer: what was this piece of solid water that themsungu held?
A woman approached him shyly: he held the mirror up to her; she caughtsight of a black smiling face with sharp-filed teeth, and ran away inconsternation, screaming that it was a devil. As she stood explainingthe marvel to her friends, John threw a flash among them: they coveredtheir eyes, and flew like the wind. Then he turned the glass towardsthe fort, and began to make tentative flashes. The guards watched him,curiously, stolidly; what was the msungu doing? Again and again hecaught the sunbeam, and turned the mirror this way and that. For a longtime there was no answer: he feared the signal had not been seen. Stillhe persevered. The guards had ceased to pay any attention to him. Atlast he thought he saw a twinkling point of light. Yes: there it wasagain: Ferrier was flashing back. Then he began to spell out hismessage--
"Prisoner: large war-party coming towards you. Good luck!"
And presently, with much difficulty, for Ferrier's watchcase was a poorinstrument, he read the answer. He could not be sure of it, but itseemed to be--
"Poor old chap! Never say die."
Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African Highlands Page 20