by Talbot Mundy
Fred laughed. It was no doubt the best thing to do, but I wondered how he managed it.
“Suppose you begin by telling us,” he said. “We can discuss the blood-stains afterward!”
Then she suddenly burst into her tale, as if she had rehearsed it a hundred times in readiness to pour into the ears of the first British official who had power enough to shield her. She told it dramatically, in few words, wasting no breath on side-issues, and without once pausing to explain, letting her words smash down the barriers of unbelief and pave their own way for explanations afterward.
“Germany is planning to conquer the world! — not now, but ten or a dozen years from now! She is getting ready ceaselessly! Part of the plan is to undermine British rule in Africa by means of a religious influence among the natives. That is the special duty of Professor Schillinschen. As soon as possible a great native army is to be trained, and thoroughly schooled in the fanatical precepts of Islam. But the German people are too heavily taxed already, and refuse to vote money for this miserable colony, where the great beginning must be made because it is only here that they can work unsuspected. So funds must be found in some other way!”
She paused for breath. No woman pleading at the bar of justice could have seemed more in earnest. Of one thing I was quite sure: she had found it worth her while to convince us if that were possible. She was playing no half-hearted game.
“Do you begin to see now why the Germans are so set on finding Tippoo Tib’s hoard of ivory? Do you begin to understand why they are determined, not only to prevent your finding it, but to learn your secret? If rumor is one-half true, the Arab buried somewhere enough ivory to finance this plan of theirs! They have been going about the search systematically, and sooner or later they feel they must stumble on it. They will not let you forestall them!”
She paused again. Her very earnestness exhausted her more than the walk through the dark in danger had done.
“Take your time,” Fred advised her. “We’re all listening!”
“When I told you in Nairobi that Lord Montdidier had been murdered, I believed I was so near the truth that you would never know the difference. I knew the order had been given to have him killed on board ship — given by men who are accustomed to be obeyed — who do not excuse failure on any ground. They feared he might be going to divulge the secret of the ivory to his government in London. Oh, I tell you they stop at nothing! To-day London is the ivory market of the world, but they have their arrangements made for transferring that center of trade to Hamburg! They mean first to crush competitors, and then monopolize! They hope the ivory is in this country. In that case their task will be easy. But if it should be found in British East, they are all ready with the necessary men of influence to apply for a mining or agricultural concession, and they will fence that place off so thoroughly that no one will ever be the wiser until they have carried the ivory out of the country!”
“They could never get it out of British East without the government knowing,” objected Fred; but she laughed at him.
“If worse came to the worst, they are ready with an offer to exchange ten times the territory elsewhere for just that small section of the country. They would give up German New Guinea, or Southwest Africa — anything! They have fooled the French and Russian governments until they are ready to bring pressure to bear on England diplomatically to induce her to make almost any bargain of that kind that the Germans want. They are even willing to concede to England the whole of Abyssinia, which nobody owns yet, and to back her up against the claims of France and Italy! Why should they not be willing to make temporary concessions, when all Africa is to be theirs in ten years’ time! They will give to-day, and with the help of the money that ivory will bring they will create an army that shall take away to-morrow!”
“But how can you prove all this?” Fred asked her.
“How? I know the names of the men who are preaching Germany’s sermons all through British East! I know all Schillingschen’s secrets! Why should I not? I have suffered enough! He is a drunken brute nearly always after the sun goes down, and his caresses are disgusting; I have endured them until I know all he knows! Now he realizes that I know his secrets and have none of my own to tell, so he hopes to send me to my doom at the hands of the government I have betrayed too many times! What is the use of my pretending to be better than I am? I am a spy — a traitress — a divorced woman with worse than no reputation! I am not a person likely to be shown much mercy! I never would have recanted unless the end of my rope had come! Now I know I must buy my pardon — I must earn it — I must pay for it with solid value! Luckily I can do that! I do not ask you men for mercy. I know what is in store for you if you do not escape! I offer to help you to escape, in exchange for helping me!”
“Better be more precise!” suggested Fred. “Exactly what is in store for us?”
She pointed her finger at me. “You went out of bounds to-day with Schillingschen! Well and good; he was with you. But you, and you—” She pointed at Fred and Will. “ — went without permission. Why do you suppose they over-looked such a splendid chance of jailing you legally? Schillingschen came up to the commandant’s house in a towering passion, demanding the immediate arrest and close confinement of all three of you. He was only persuaded to wait a few days longer because a runner has come in with word that the bodies of several Masai whom you shot on this side of the German border have been found! The bones — the bullets found among the bones — and cartridge cases that will fit your rifles are being brought to Muanza! After that — the deluge, my friends! That is why Professor Schillingschen gets drunk and sings himself to sleep in spite of your being still at liberty! Either escape before that evidence reaches Muanza, or make up your minds for the worst! It is growing late — answer me — do you agree?”
Fred glanced once at each of us. We both nodded.
“We agree with reservations,” he said.
“What are they? Man — don’t be a fool! Don’t fritter the lives of all of us away!”
“They’re simple. We’ve a friend in the jail here. His name’s Brown.”
“That drunkard? Leave him! He’s worthless!”
“We’ve a servant on the chain-gang. His name is Kazimoto.”
“A nigger? You’d risk another day in this place for a nigger? How absurd! They’re never grateful. They don’t see things from the white man’s standpoint. They don’t expect ideal treatment. Leave him his wages and tell him to follow when they let him off the chain!”
“And we have a string of porters,” Fred continued. “We will not leave
Muanza without the porters, our man Kazimoto, and Mr. Brown of Lumbwa!”
“You are mad! You are crazy!”
“We are the men you have invited to trust you,” Fred answered kindly. “Those are our conditions. We will not ‘bate one iota! Take ’em or leave ’em, Lady Waldon!”
CHAPTER TEN
IN HOC SIGNO VADE
Lean, loveless, hungry lanes are these!
The longest has an end.
Ill luck tasted to the bitter lees
Soonest shall mend.
From out the foe’s ranks if Heaven please
Shall come your friend.
We came to no fixed decision that night, although we knew there was no alternative. She held out, in the vain hope of making us agree to leave Kazimoto and Brown behind. The porters, she agreed, might come in very handy, although it was at least doubtful that we should be able to slip out of Muanza by land. The Germans had taken latterly to counting our porters every morning, to supplying them with ration money once every day, and to sending the bill to us by an askari, who waited for the cash. At any rate, she conceded the porters, provided we would leave the two others behind. And of course we were adamant.
She left us an hour and a half before dawn, we letting her return alone because of the greater danger of detection if we had tried to escort her. It was after she had gone, while we sat listening for the sound of a challenge
that would have ruined all her hopes, if not ours, that Will conceived the bright idea which finally saved us.
“The Heinies don’t know that we’re wise to their game,” he said cheerfully. His ears were sticking out from his head and he had the naughty boy look that always presaged wisdom. “Why don’t we play that card for all it’s worth?”
“We need five cards to make even a poker hand,” Fred objected.
“Will a full house suit you — aces and queens?” he answered. “I’ve named you one ace already. Ace number two is the fact that these German officials are brutes pure and simple — brutes who don’t understand how to be anything else, with brutal low cunning and no other cleverness.”
“That sounds like the joker!” said Fred.
“It’s ace number two, I tell you! The third is the fact that Brown of Lumbwa can talk with Kazimoto in the night through that corrugated iron partition! Three aces — count ’em — one, two, three! Queens? One of ’em left a few minutes ago! The other’s the dhow! We’ll call that blessed boat the Queen of Sheba for luck! The Queen of Sheba got to her journey’s end, and found more than she expected, and by the lights of little old Broadway, so shall we! I’ve dealt the cards — is it up to me to play them?”
“Your hand, America! Talk it over first, though! There’s an awful lot hangs on the game!” said Fred.
I fell asleep while they argued over the points of Will’s strategy. Africa is a land of sudden death and swift recoveries, but for a convalescent man I had been through a strenuous day and had right to be tired out. It was broad daylight when I awoke, and breakfast was ready. Fred and Will had returned from their march around the township with the native band, and to my surprise the commandant was standing in front of their tent, talking with them. I threw on a jacket and joined them at table.
“I don’t understand you,” said the commandant. “Either talk German or speak more slowly!”
Will took a purchase on his stock of patience and began again.
“If our porters run away, you’ll blame us. We don’t care to be blamed for what is none of our fault. So if you don’t put ’em all on a chain and lock ’em up nights, we’re going to discontinue paying for their keep. That’s flat! You can work ’em if you like. Let ’em help keep the township clean. We’ll pay their board and wages as long as you’re responsible for their not escaping! And say! If you want to get real work out of ’em I’ll give you a tip. There never was a savage like that Kazimoto of ours for getting results out of that gang. Put him on the same chain with the lot of ’em, and we’ll all be satisfied! I don’t presume to be running your jail, but I’m telling you facts that’ll hurt nobody. Those porters ‘ud be a darn sight better off with plenty of exercise.”
“Do I understand you to ask that your porters be made prisoners?” asked the commandant.
“You get me exactly!” said Will.
The commandant grunted, nodded, waited for us to get up and salute him, grunted again with disgust when we did nothing of the sort, turned on his heel, and walked off. We spent an hour on tenterhooks, and I began to believe the German had simply become more suspicious than ever and would keep closer watch on us without troubling at all about the men. But at the end of an hour we saw the porters rounded up, and a chain fetched out that was long enough to hold them all. They disappeared within the boma wall. Ten minutes later suddenly Will pointed toward the southward.
“Look! See what happens when the roofs of shanty-town take fire!”
Flames went up from the dry grass roof of one of the rectangular Swahili huts. Within thirty seconds the askaris on guard at the boma began firing their rifles in the air as fast as they could pull the trigger and reload. Within two minutes the chain-gang was headed for jail, where it was locked behind doors, in order that every askari in Muanza might be free to pile arms and hurry to the fire. It was not only askaris; the whole township turned out as to the circus, with Schubert and his long kiboko ruling the riot. The other sergeants were in evidence, but quiet, imperturbable men compared to their feldwebel, plying their kibokos without wasting words, stirring the whole world within their reach into action — if not orderly and purposeful, action, at least.
Schubert climbed on a roof well to windward and safe from the sparks, and directed proceedings in a voice that out-thundered the mob’s roar and crackling flames. To illustrate his meaning he seized handsful of the thatch on which he stood and tore them out, to the huge discontent of the owner. The crowd saw what he wanted and began at once tearing off roofs in a wide circle around the fire so as to isolate it, Schubert demonstrating until scarcely a handful of thatch remained on the roof he honored and he had to stand awkwardly on the crisscross poles, while the owner and his women wept.
Within ten minutes after the commencement of the fire there was under way a regular orgy of roof pulling. Whoever had an enemy ran and tore his roof off, and there were several instances of reciprocity, two families tearing off each other’s roofs, each believing the other to be at the fire.
Muanza was a furious place — a riot — a home of din and tumult while the fire lasted, and when it was put out it took another hour to stop the fights between victims of the flames and unofficial salvage-men.
“D’ye get the idea of it?” asked Will. “D’ye see the Achilles heel?”
In that second, I believe, Fred Oakes and I betrayed ourselves genuine adventurers. Any fool could have talked glibly about setting the town on fire; any coward could have yelped about the danger of it, and improbability of success. It needed adventurers to size up instantly all the odds against the idea, recognize the one infinitesimal chance, and plump for it. And we were there!
“It’s the only chance we’ve got!” agreed Fred. “I’m for it! Lead on
America!”
“I believe we can pull it off!” said I. “I’m game!”
After that it seemed like waste of time to talk, yet every single detail of our plan had to be thought out beforehand and mentally rehearsed, if we hoped to have even the one slim chance we built on. Luckily Professor Schillingschen continued drunk, which meant that he would sleep early and give Lady Waldon another chance to pay us a nocturnal visit. One of our boys told us that according to market gossips the commandant was drinking with him and the two of them were watching a sort of prolonged native nautch they had staged in seclusion on the hill.
The next day we learned there was to be a murder trial of no less than nine men — an event likely to keep the whole garrison’s attention drawn away from us. And after the trial would come the hanging (it would have been impossible to convince any one, German or native, that the verdict and sentence were not foregone conclusions). The stars in their courses appeared to be on our side. For several nights to come the worst the moon could do would be to show a sliver of silver crescent for an hour or two.
Lady Waldon came earlier that night. When we outlined our plan to her roughly she argued against it at first — and it was impossible far-fetched — ridiculous. She insisted again on our simply sneaking away by night with her. But Fred wasted no time on argument, and took the upper hand.
“Take us or leave us, Lady Waldon, as we are! We’ve an unwritten rule that none of us has ever thought of breaking, that binds us to obey the member of the party whose plan we have adopted. On this occasion we have agreed to Mr. Yerkes’ plan, and you’ve got to obey him implicitly if you want to have part with us! We will not leave our men or Brown of Lumbwa behind, and we will not change the plan by a hair’s breadth! Will you or won’t you obey?”
She yielded then very quickly. It seemed a relief to her at last to subject her views to those of men whose purpose was merely honest. Will took up the reins at once.
“We’ve talked over buying the boat,” he said, “but that’s hopeless. The more we paid for it the louder the owner would brag. The Germans would be ‘on’ in a minute. We’ve simply got to steal it. It’s up to you to find out the man’s proper name and address, and we’ll send him the money from
the first British post-office we reach.”
“Don Quixote de la Mancha!” she said critically. “Well — we steal the boat and you pay for it afterward. The owner will think you are crazy, and if the Germans ever discover it they will take the money away from him by some legal process. But go on!”
“We’ve plenty of money,” said Will, “so there’s no need to worry about too many supplies to begin with. But we’ll need scant rations for ourselves and all our men until we reach some place where more are to be bought. And we’ve got to get them on board the dhow secretly. The first question is, how to do that.”
She told us at once of a path going round by the back of the hill behind us, that would make the trip to the dhow in the dark a matter of over two miles, but that avoided all sentries and habitations. We agreed that all three of us should climb to the top of the hill, which was not out of bounds — and study the track next morning. On the fateful night we must take our chance, just as she had done, of avoiding the sleepy-eyed sentry who kept watch over the Greeks.
“We’ll talk to Brown of Lumbwa on the morning and afternoon march around the township,” Will went on. “Brown must whisper to Kazimoto through the corrugated iron partition in the jail at night, and have them all ready to break loose at the signal and bring him along with them. We must be careful to show Brown just where the dhow is. He has been sober quite a while. Maybe he’ll remember if we direct him carefully.”
“What is to be the signal?” she asked.
“Just what I’m coming to,” said Will. “A fire-alarm on the first windy night! The next question is, who is to start the fire? We’ll need a good one! Yet if we do it, we’re likely to be caught by the crowd coming running to deal with it.”
“Coutlass!” she answered suddenly. “Coutlass and his two friends!”
“You’ll perhaps pardon me,” Fred answered, “but none of us would trust those Greeks as far as a hen could swim in alcohol!”