Long Odds

by Harold Bindloss

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE CHEFE STANDS FAST

  It was an hour after midnight when the Headman sent for Ormsgill, whofound him sitting with his overlord beside a little fire that burnedredly in the thin mist. The night was almost chilly, and the Suzeraincrouched close beside the blaze, huddled in his loose garments, withthe uncertain light on his impassive face. It seemed to Ormsgill thathe looked worn and old, and he became conscious for the first time ofa vague pity for him. The task he had undertaken was, the white manfelt, one he could not succeed in. It was merely another futileprotest, for the yoke that was being fastened on his people's neckscould not be flung off that way. Ormsgill stood silent a moment or twountil the old man turned to him.

  "You have no cause to love those white men in San Roque," he said."Well, I will give you forty boys with rifles. We want leaders whoknow how the white men fight."

  Ormsgill shook his head. "No," he said, "I can not lead them. Thisaffair is no concern of mine."

  The negro appeared to ponder over his answer, for it was withdifficulty they understood each other, though another man crouching inthe wood smoke flung in a word or two.

  "Are you all against us because we are black?" he said. "Those men atSan Roque would shoot you if they could."

  "It is very likely," and Ormsgill smiled a little. "Still, I think weare not all against you--though I can not lead your men. There arewhite men among the Portuguese who know that you have wrongs. Some daythey will have justice done."

  The negro spread out a dusky hand. "That is what the missionaries tellus, but we have waited a long time, and there is no sign of it yet. Wecan not wait for ever, and very soon all my people will be at workupon the white men's plantations. They get greedier and greedier. Nowat last we strike."

  Once more Ormsgill, standing still in the shadow watching him, wasstirred by a vague compassion. He knew that revolt was useless, andwondered whether the old belief that there was a ban upon the negroand that he was made to serve the white man was not, after all,founded on more than superstition and self-interested sophistry. Otherprimitive peoples had, he knew, died off before the white man, but theAfricans had thriven in their bondage, filling Brazil and the WestIndies and the cotton-growing States. They were prolific, cheerful,adaptable to all conditions, and yet even where liberty had beenoffered them they remained a subject people, and made no effort toshake off the white man's yoke.

  "You may sack San Roque," he said. "Still, I think you will neverreach the coast."

  The Headman started at this boldness, and there was a vindictivegleam in his eyes, but his overlord sat silent a space, apparentlybrooding heavily, and gazing at the mist. Then he turned to Ormsgillwith a somewhat impressive deliberateness.

  "At least," he said, "I go on. You will not lead our men, but you cannot warn the white men at San Roque. When we have sacked the fort Iwill send for you again."

  Ormsgill made him a little formal inclination before he turned away,for the attitude of this negro was one he could understand. He hadhimself attempted things that could not be done, expecting to bedefeated, but undertaking them because he felt that, at least, was anobligation laid on him. Nares, and Father Tiebout, and no doubtcountless host of others, had also done the same, and Nares theoptimist had said that though they failed signally the protest oftheir futile efforts would be listened to some day. It seemed that thedusky man crouching beside the fire realized how much there wasagainst him, but, as he had said, he was going on. Perhaps it isbecause men of all creeds and colors have pressed on downwards throughthe ages to face ax and stake and firing platoon that there are noteven more of the overburdened in the world to-day. The cost ofprogress is heavy, and the upward struggle is very grim and slow.

  In the meanwhile Ormsgill went back past the long rows of weary menlying in the sand to where his comrade was sitting in the clammy mist.Nares was a little feverish that night.

  "Well?" he said.

  "I have been offered a command," said Ormsgill. "Naturally, I refusedit. I also ventured to tell our friend that he would fail. It says agood deal for him that I escaped the usual fate of the prophets. Hedid not even ask me for my reasons."

  "You have them?"

  "Yes," said Ormsgill. "The thing's quite evident in a general way andto be precise he has to reckon with Dom Clemente. You remember the manour guide fired at? I can't help thinking he has passed on anyinformation he may have picked up to the coast by now, and DomClemente is a man who can move to some purpose when it's advisable.Still, I have no doubt we shall sack San Roque before to-morrow. Ourfriend hinted that measures would be taken to prevent us warning theChefe."

  Nares turned and pointed to several men with rifles who sat half-seennot very far away. Then he seemed to shiver.

  "There was a time when I could have warned them in San Roque, though Iscarcely think they would have listened to me. Now I do not know thatI would do it if I had the opportunity." His voice grew sterner. "Theyhave brought it upon themselves. There are iniquities which can not beborne."

  His companion said nothing further, but sat down gnawing at an emptypipe until they started again. The Headman or his Suzerain had drilledhis followers into some kind of order, and Ormsgill found somethingimpressive in the silent flitting by of half-seen men. They came upout of the soft darkness with a faint patter of naked feet in sand,and were lost in it again ahead of him. Now and then there was acrackle of undergrowth or a clash of arms, but for the most part thelong column went by like a crawling shadow, for these were menaccustomed to flit through dim forests thick with perils noiselessly,and they did not proclaim their presence as white troops would havedone. When they struck it would be in silence, and Ormsgill fanciedthat San Roque was not much more than a league away.

  Still, it was rough traveling through loose sand and tangled scrub,and several hours had passed when the long sinuous column stoppedsuddenly. The men in charge of Ormsgill handed him and Nares over to afew others, who had only flintlock guns, and these led them forward toa more open space, where they sat down. The night had grown a trifleclearer, and Ormsgill could see a wide break in the bush in front ofhim. A broad belt of mist hung about one side of it, and the gurgle ofsliding water came out of the vapor, against which there rose ashadowy ridge.

  "The stockade," he said. "We have arrived. Dom Erminio has either novedettes out, or our vanguard has stalked them and cut their throats."

  He broke off, but in another moment or two he spoke again with alittle tension in his voice. "It's curious, and no doubt in one wayunreasonable, but I feel the desire to warn him getting almost toomuch for me. I don't know how one could do it, and it certainlywouldn't be any use, since I believe our friends are ringing the fortin. Dom Erminio must fight for his life to-night."

  The clang of a rifle, a Portuguese rifle, cut him short, and a cryrose out of the vapor. After that there was silence until a cracklingcommenced in the bush, and the two sat still and waited while thetension grew almost intolerable. Ormsgill, who felt his mouth growparched and dry, fancied he could see the stockade a trifle moreplainly, and the forest seemed to be growing blacker, though the mistwas a little thicker than it had been. It was also perceptibly colder.

  "It will be daylight in half an hour," he said, and his voice struckon his companion's ears curiously strained and hoarse.

  Then another rifle flashed, there was a sudden shouting, and atumultuous patter of naked feet, and a shadowy mass of running figureshurled themselves at the stockade. A good many of them never reachedit, for the dusky barrier blazed with twinkling points of light, and awithering volley met them in the face. Then the drifting smoke wasrent by brighter snapping flashes in quick succession, and the jarringthud of heavier reports broke through the crash of the rifles. Thislasted for perhaps two minutes, and then there was by contrast asilence that was almost bewildering. It seemed emphasized when once ortwice the ringing of a rifle came out of the streaks of drifting vaporthat hung about the stockade.

  "They're going back," said Ormsgi
ll hoarsely. "The Chefe's men willstand." Then he laughed, a harsh, strained laugh. "They know theyhave to. Our friends are not likely to have much consideration for anyof them who fall into their hands."

  Nares, who shivered a little, said nothing, and a minute or two latera crackle of riflery broke out in the bush. It came from theSuzerain's men, for there was no mistaking the crash of the heavySniders. Once or twice the jarring thud of the machine gun broke in,and here and there a twinkling flash leapt from the stockade, but withthat exception there was no answer from the fort.

  "It seems," said Ormsgill, "Dom Erminio has his men in hand. It's alittle more than I expected from him. Presumably our friend wishes tokeep him occupied while he seizes the canoes. Anyway, his boys will beconsiderably more dangerous when they've wasted their ammunition."

  The fusillade continued, in all probability, harmlessly, for awhile,and then Ormsgill rose to his feet. "I think they'll get in this time.They're trying it again."

  Once more vague, shadowy objects flitted out of the bush, and swepttowards the stockade. They ran without order, furiously, while more oftheir comrades emerged from the shadows behind them, until the narrowstrip of cleared space was filled with running figures. There appearedto be swarms of them, and Ormsgill held his breath as he watched. Hesaw them plunge into a crawling trail of low lying mist, that seemedtorn apart suddenly when once more the face of the stockade wasstreaked with little spurts of flame. It closed on them again untilall was hidden but the intermittent flashing, and the jarring thud ofthe machine gun rent the din. One could not tell what was going on,and it was by a tense effort Ormsgill held himself still with everynerve in him quivering. How long the tension lasted he did not know,but at length the ringing of the rifles died away again, and as alittle puff of chilly breeze rolled the haze aside it became evidentthat the space before the stockade was once more empty. He could seethe stockade clearly, and the edge of the forest now cut sharplyagainst the sky.

  "The Headman can't afford to fail again," he said. "It is breakingday."

  Then there was silence for a space, while the light grew clearer untilthe residency beyond the stockade grew into shape. A smear of palecolor widened in the eastern sky, and as Ormsgill turned his eyestowards the house a limp bundle of fabric rose slowly up the loftystaff above it. It blew out once on the faint breeze, and then hungstill again, but as he watched it, Ormsgill felt a little thrill runthrough him.

  "Rather earlier than usual. Dom Erminio means to fight," he said.

  Just then, however, a negro who came up gasping with haste signed toNares. "The Headman sends for you," he said. "You are to take amessage to those people yonder."

  Ormsgill looked at his comrade, who smiled curiously. "Yes," he said,"I shall certainly go. Whether I am in any way responsible for allthis I do not know, but I may, perhaps, save a few of them."

  He raised himself somewhat stiffly, and turned away, but two negroesheld Ormsgill fast when he would have gone with him. He sat down againwhen they relaxed their grasp, and at last saw Nares appear again onthe edge of the bush some distance away. He was alone, and walkedquietly towards the stockade with his wide hat in his hand, and afigure in white uniform appeared in the notch where the palisades hadbeen cut down for the quick-firing gun. Just then a ray of brightnessstruck along the trampled sand, and Ormsgill saw his comrade stop andstand still, spare and gaunt and ragged, with the widening sunlightfull upon him. What was said he did not know, but he did not blame DomErminio afterwards for what followed. Perhaps, some black soldier'sover-taxed nerve gave way, or the man had flung off all restraint andgone back to his primitive savagery, for a rifle flashed behind thestockade, and Nares staggered, recovered his balance, and collapsedinto a blurred huddle of white garments on the trampled sand.

  Then as Ormsgill sprang to his feet the bush rang with a yell, and aswarm of half-naked negroes poured tumultuously out of it. There wasno firing among them. They ran forward with glinting matchets andspears and brandished flintlock guns, and Ormsgill knew that now, atleast, they would certainly get in. In another moment he was runningfuriously towards them, and so far as he could remember afterwardsnone of the men in whose charge he had been troubled themselves abouthim. It was some way to the front of the stockade, and when he gotthere he was hemmed in by a surging crowd. There was smoke in hiseyes, and a bewildering din through which he heard the thudding of thequick-firing gun, but where Nares was he did not know. He could onlygo forward with the press, and he ran on in a fit of hot vindictivefury.

  Here and there a man about him screamed, and now and then a half-seenfigure collapsed in front of him, but this time no one stopped orturned. They were all crazed with primitive passion, and were goingin. Ormsgill, pressing onwards with them, saw that he had now amatchet in his hand, though he had no recollection of how it camethere. Then the thudding of the gun ceased suddenly and the air wasrent by a breathless gasping yell. The stockade rose right over him,and he went headlong at the gap in it from which there protruded themuzzle of the gun. Somebody behind him hurled him through the opening,and he dropped inside. As he scrambled to his feet he saw a swarm ofmen running towards the residency, and he went with them, partlybecause he wished to get there and also because those who pouredthrough the gap behind him drove him along. He had afterwards a fancythat he saw a white man lying not far from the gun, but he could notbe certain, for the negroes were thick about him, and he was not in amood to interest himself in anything of that kind just then. He waspossessed by an unreasoning fury, and an overwhelming desire to reachthe men who had treacherously shot his comrade.

  They came gasping to the foot of the outer stairway, and by this timeOrmsgill had almost come up with the foremost of his companions. Aglance showed him the barricade of bags and boxes apparently filledwith soil on the veranda, and the black faces and rifle barrels abovethem. There seemed to be a good deal of smoke in the air, but he sawDom Erminio standing amidst it in white uniform. He had a naked swordin his hand, and apparently saw Ormsgill, for his drawn face contortedinto a very curious smile. So far as the latter could make out, he hadstill a handful of men under his command. Escape was out of thequestion. The score he had run up was a long one, and now thereckoning had come.

  Then several rifles flashed among the bags, and the negroes went upthe stairway with a yell. Ormsgill fancied that two or three men wentdown about him, and had a vague remembrance of trampling on yieldingbodies, but he went up uninjured, and leapt up upon the barricade. Theveranda was thick with smoke now, but he saw Dom Erminio suddenly leanforward with the long blade gleaming in his hand, and a black soldierwho crouched close beside his feet tearing at his rifle breech. That,however, was all he saw, for in another moment he leapt down, and aswarm of half-naked men with spears and matchets swept into theveranda. What he did next he knew no more than those about himprobably did, but when at length he reeled out of the smoke-filledbuilding and down the stairway the matchet was no longer in his hand,and he wondered vaguely that there was so far as he could discover nota scratch on him. Still he felt a trifle dazed, and as his head achedintolerably he sat down gasping.

  There was no firing in the residency now, and half-naked men werepouring out of it, but Ormsgill felt no desire to go back and see whathad become of Dom Erminio and his soldiery. He sat still for severalminutes, and then rising with an effort walked stiffly across thecompound. He had some trouble in climbing the stockade, and when thatwas done came upon Nares lying face downwards in the trampled sand. Heraised him a trifle with some difficulty, and saw a little hole in thebreast of his thin jacket. Then laying him gently down again he tookoff his shapeless hat. He was still standing beside him vacantly whenone of the Headman's messengers laid a hand on his shoulder. Ormsgilllooked down once more on his comrade, and then turned away and wentwith the man.