Tom Willoughby's Scouts: A Story of the War in German East Africa

by Herbert Strang

  Produced by Al Haines.

  Cover art]

  REINECKE FLUNG UP HIS ARM.]

  TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS

  _A STORY OF THE WAR IN GERMAN EAST AFRICA_

  BY

  HERBERT STRANG

  _ILLUSTRATED BY WAL PAGET_

  HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPE TOWN, BOMBAY 1919

  PRINTED 1918 IN GREAT BRITAIN BY R. CLAY & SONS, LTD., BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E. 1, AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.

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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I--TANGANYIKA CHAPTER II--PARTNERS CHAPTER III--THE VOUCHER CHAPTER IV--TRAPPED CHAPTER V--A FRIEND IN NEED CHAPTER VI--MWESA'S MISSION CHAPTER VII--TOM SEIZES THE OCCASION CHAPTER VIII--REINECKE RETURNS CHAPTER IX--A DELAYING ACTION CHAPTER X--A BREATHING SPACE CHAPTER XI--TOM'S NEW ALLIES CHAPTER XII--THE DESERTER CHAPTER XIII--HUNTED CHAPTER XIV--THE TRAIL CHAPTER XV--THE BACK DOOR CHAPTER XVI--DRAWN BLANK CHAPTER XVII--A GERMAN OFFER CHAPTER XVIII--A GOOD HAUL CHAPTER XIX--BELEAGUERED CHAPTER XX--RAISING THE SIEGE CHAPTER XXI--WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS

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  LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

  Reinecke flung up his Arm (See p. 193) . . . . . . _Frontispiece_Tom took careful Aim and firedTom makes a DiversionMwesa flung Himself on the Arab

  CHAPTER I--TANGANYIKA

  Among the passengers who boarded the _Hedwig von Wissmann_ at Kigoma onLake Tanganyika, one June day in 1914, there were two who engaged moreparticularly the attention of those already on deck. The first was atall stalwart man of some fifty years, with hard blue eyes, full redcheeks, a square chin, and a heavy blond moustache streaked with grey.He stepped somewhat jerkily up the gangway, brought his hand stiffly tohis brow in response to the salute of the first officer, and was led bythat deferential functionary to a chair beneath the deck awning.

  The second presented a striking contrast. Equally tall, he was slim andloosely built, with lean, sunburnt, hairless cheeks, a clean upper lipthat curved slightly in a natural smile, and brown eyes that flashed alook of intelligent interest around. He walked with the lithe easymovements of athletic youth, turned to see that the porter was followingwith his luggage, a single travelling trunk and a rifle case, andsatisfied on that score, picked up a deck-chair and planted it forhimself where the awning would give shade without shutting off the air.

  Both these new arrivals wore suits of white drill, and pith helmets; butwhereas the elder man was tightly buttoned, suggesting a certain strain,the younger allowed his coat to hang open, showing his soft shirt andthe cummerbund about his waist.

  The gangway was pulled in, a seaman cast off the mooring rope, and thevessel sheered off from the landing-stage with those seemingly aimlessmovements with which a steamer, until she is well under way, responds tothe signals from the bridge. In a few minutes the _Hedwig von Wissmann_was heading southward down the lake, on her three-hundred-mile voyage toBismarckburg.

  The younger of the two passengers lit a cigarette and unobtrusively tookstock of his fellow-travellers. The tall man before mentioned wasalready puffing at a long black cigar, and a steward, with markedservility, had placed a glass of some lemon-coloured liquid on a tableat his elbow. Beyond him four men of middle age, also provided withcigars and glasses, were playing cards, not in dignified silence, likeSarah Battle of immortal memory, but with a sort of voracity, and avoluble exchange of gutturals. Sitting apart, smoking a dark briar pipe,sat a grizzled and somewhat shabby passenger who, though the brim of hispanama was turned down over his eyes, had nevertheless watched and drawnconclusions about the two strangers.

  "H'm! Public school--nineteen, perhaps--griffin--nice lad--clean," hisdisjointed thoughts ran. "T'other fellow--Potsdam--goose step--beerbarrel--don't like the breed."

  For a while he sat smoking, giving a little grunt now and then, and nowand then a glance at the young Englishman. Presently he heaved himselfout of his chair, tilted back his hat, and waddling a few steps, plantedhimself with legs apart in front of the youth.

  "Harrow or Rugby, sir?" he said without preamble.

  "Neither, sir," replied the other with a smile. "I was at quite anobscure grammar school--not a public school in the--well, in the swaggersense."

  The old man's grey eyes twinkled.

  "H'm!" he ejaculated. "Don't get up." He took a chair that stoodfolded against one of the stanchions and drew it alongside.

  "Name, sir?"

  The youth looked into the face of his questioner, saw nothing butbenevolence there, and thinking "Queer old stick!" answered--

  "Willoughby--Tom Willoughby."

  "H'm! Not Bob Willoughby's son, by any chance?"

  "My father's name was Robert, sir."

  "Takes after his mother, I suppose," the old man murmured to himself,but audibly. "Hasn't got Bob's nose. I knew him," he went on aloud."Saw in _The Times_ he was gone: sorry, my lad. Haven't seen him since'98, when I was in Uganda. Haven't been out since; wanted to run roundonce more before I'm laid on the shelf. Going to Rhodesia, I presume?"

  "No: only as far as Bismarckburg: my father was interested in some landon the edge of the Plateau."

  "German land, begad!"

  "Well, you see he was partner with a German: went equal shares with himin a coffee plantation seven or eight years ago."

  "H'm! Why didn't he stick to mines?" said the old gentleman in one ofhis audible asides. "And you step into his shoes, I suppose?"

  "Not exactly, sir. He left his property to my brother and me jointly.We decided that Bob--he's twenty-four--had better stick to thecommission business in London, and I should come out and learn planting,or at any rate see if it's worth while going on; the plantation hasnever paid, and it's lucky for us we don't depend on it."

  "Never paid in eight years? It's time it did. What's your Germanpartner about? I'm an old hand; my name's Barkworth, and I was a friendof your father. My advice is, if your coffee hasn't paid in eightyears, cut your losses and try cotton."

  "It may come to that; that's what I'm out to discover; but my brotherthought it at least worth while looking into things on the spot with Mr.Reinecke----"

  "Curt Reinecke?" said Mr. Barkworth abruptly.

  "Yes."

  "I know him--or did, twenty years ago. _He's_ your partner. H'm!" Heblew out a heavy cloud of smoke. Tom looked at him a little anxiously.

  "Mr. Reinecke has had a lot of bad luck, sir," he said. "He was alwayshoping the tide would turn, Bob suggested that he might be incompetent,but my father had complete confidence in him."

  "Reinecke incompetent! Bosh! He's clever enough."

  There was something in Mr. Barkworth's tone that caused Tom to say--

  "I've never met him myself, and I should really be glad of anyinformation, sir. You see, it's rather awkward, dealing with a man oldenough to be my father, I mean, and----"

  "Yes, of course. Reinecke is a clever fellow; I've nothing against him,but I recommend you to go carefully. I don't like him, but then I don'tlike Germans."

  "I can't say I do," said Tom. "I spent a year in Germany. But I've meta few jolly decent chaps, and seeing that my father thought so highly ofMr. Reinecke----"

  "You're predisposed in h
is favour. Naturally. Well, keep an open mind.Don't be in a hurry to decide. That's an old man's advice. I'm nearlyseventy, my lad, and the older I get the more I learn. With people,now--there's the man who falls on the neck of the first comer, andwishes he hadn't. There's the man who stiffens his back and freezes,and then finds that he's lost his chance of making a friend. Don't belike either: 'prove all things'--and men--'and hold fast to that whichis good.' H'm! I'm beginning to preach: sure sign of dotage.--Youhaven't seen a view like that before."

  It was indeed a new and an enchanting experience to Tom Willoughby, thisvoyage on the vast lake, or inland sea, that stretches for four hundredmiles in the heart of equatorial Africa. Looking eastward to the nearershore, he beheld a high bank richly clad with forest jungle, fringed andfestooned with lovely creepers and climbing plants. Below, the bluewaters, tossed by a south-east breeze, broke high upon a wilderness ofrugged rocks; above, masses of cloud raced across the green heights,revealing now and then patches of bare brown rock, now and then themisty tops of distant mountains. The coastline was variegated withheadlands, creeks, and bays; southward could be discerned the boldmountainous promontory of Kungwe. Here and there Arab dhows with theirtriangular sails and the low log canoes of native fishermen hugged theshore; and birds with brilliant plumage glittered and flashed as theydarted in and out among the foliage or swooped down upon the surface insearch of food.

  Tom feasted his eyes on these novel scenes until a bugle summoned thepassengers to luncheon. He would have found it a slow meal but for hisnew friend. They were placed side by side at some distance from thecaptain, the intervening seats being occupied by the Germans. Theplanters talked shop among themselves, and Tom was amused at theobsequious gratitude they showed to Major von Rudenheim, the newlyarrived German officer, when he dispensed them a word now and then, as aman throws a bone to a dog. The major had the place of honour next thecaptain, whose bearing towards him was scarcely less deferential.Through the meal the two Englishmen were almost ignored by the rest.Afterwards, however, when the planters had returned to their cards andMajor von Rudenheim and Mr. Barkworth had both disappeared, CaptainGoltermann came up to Tom where he sat alone on deck.

  "Fine country, Mr. Villoughby," he said pleasantly. "I hope you likezis trip."

  "Thanks, captain, it's quite charming; but I'm not what we call atripper."

  "So! It is business, not pleasure, zat bring you? But zere shall bepleasure _and_ business, I zink. If I can assist you----"

  "Thanks again. I expect Mr. Reinecke to meet me at Bismarckburg."

  "Mr. Reinecke! He is great friend of mine. You are lucky to go tohim--as pupil, perhaps?"

  It seemed to Tom that the amiable captain was trying to pump him, and hesmiled inwardly.

  "I daresay I could learn a good deal from Mr. Reinecke," he said,guardedly, but with great amiability.

  "Zat is certain. He is a most excellent man of business, and as aplanter zere is no one like him. Zat I ought to know, because I carryhis goods. Yes, truly, many fine cargoes haf I carried fromBismarckburg to Ujiji. Zere vill vun vait me, vizout doubt. Yes, myfriend Reinecke is ze model of efficiency--of German efficiency. ZeEnglish are great colonists--so! no vun deny it; and zey are proud zeyknow how to manage ze nigger--yes? But I tell you--you are young man--Itell you your countrymen cannot make ze nigger vork---ve Germans can."

  Tom was to learn later the methods by which the Germans achieved thatdesirable end: at present he was slightly amused at the Teutonicself-satisfaction of the speaker. It was so like what he hadencountered during his year in Stuttgart.

  "Ze German kultur," the captain proceeded--"it is carried verever zeGerman go. Yes; viz our mezod, our zystem, ve create for our Kaiser agreat empire in Africa. In ten, tventy year ze Masai, ze Wanyamwezi, zeWakamba, ze Wahehe, and all ze ozers--zey shall become Germans--blackGermans, but ze colour, vat is it? It is of ze skin; I speak of zesoul, sir."

  At this moment there was a great hubbub on the lower deck forward, wherea motley assortment of natives and Indian traders was located. Thecaptain hurried away; the planters left their cards and flocked to seewhat was happening. Tom followed them. Looking over the rail, he saw ayoung negro being dragged along by two petty officers, who cuffed andkicked him between their shouts of abuse. They hauled him on until theystood below the captain, and then explained in German that they hadfound him hidden among some bales of cargo: he had not paid his passageand had no money.

  "Throw him overboard," cried the captain. The planters laughed.

  "Only a stowaway," said one, and their curiosity being satisfied, theywent back to the awning.

  Whether the captain had meant what he said or not, he had turned away,and the officers were apparently about to carry out the order. Tom,understanding German and knowing something of Germans, was neverthelessamazed. Acting on the impulse of the moment he hurried after thecaptain.

  "I say, captain, I'll pay for the boy," he cried. "Let him go."

  Captain Goltermann smiled.

  "Ze nigger? You are good Samaritan, sir. Vell, it is your affair, notmine. Pay if you please; you fling money avay."

  He called to the officers, who gave the boy a parting kick and shot himinto the midst of the crowd of shouting negroes before them. Tom paidthe passage money, and went back to his chair. Had he made a fool ofhimself? It was really absurd to have supposed that the Germans wouldhave drowned the boy. "I wonder what Mr. Barkworth would say?" hethought. And then he sprang up and hastened to find the purser: he hadsuddenly remembered that if the boy had no money for his fare, neithercould he pay for his food. "No good doing things by halves," hethought. He told the purser to charge the boy's keep to him, adding:"and don't make a song about it."