The Message

by Louis Tracy

  CHAPTER XVI

  A FIVE MINUTES' FIGHT

  Fairholme was soon equipped with a rifle. He was crouching behinda wooden pillar close to Warden and Colville, when a Hausa who hadincautiously exposed himself uttered a queer cough and pitched forwardon his face, shot through the lungs. The earl took the man's gun andbandolier, but noticed that none of the others were firing, though anumber of black forms were dimly visible through the murk created bythe smoke of the blazing huts.

  Warden was watching him.

  "You will soon get busy," he said. "They are preparing for a rush. Pickout the leaders, the fellows wearing the gaudiest feathers, or carryinga leopard-skin slung across their shoulders."

  "You're a funny lookin' bird yourself," chuckled Fairholme. "What priceyou for the Kingdom Come stakes when the niggers spot you? Every blackson of a gun will want to add you to the bag."

  "That's right, Warden," put in Colville anxiously. "Chuck away thatburnous, and stick on poor Toomba's cap. Fairholme can pull it in withthe clearing-rod."

  "No," said Warden. "My Arab's livery has served me in good steadthus far. I shall not abandon it until I can borrow the togs ofcivilization, if ever I need them. Hello, here they come!"

  A slackening in the fusillade and a terrific outburst of yells showedthat the enemy were breaking cover in force. In an instant the compoundseemed to become alive with armed negroes, many of whom had alreadydiscarded their modern rifles for the more familiar matchet and spear.

  Colville shouted something in the Hausa tongue, and his men, allbut two, leaped to their feet. Firing with deadly accuracy at sucha short range, they brought down a score of the foremost savages.Fairholme, imbued with the traditions of European warfare, naturallyexpected that the attack would be pressed home, so he set his teeth andresolved to enter the next world with a royal bodyguard. RememberingWarden's instructions, he looked only for the most gorgeously decoratedwarriors, and found three including Loanda himself. Warden, who hadsecured the rifle of the second wounded Hausa, saw the earl bowl overa ju-ju man at sixty yards, no mean shooting at night in an atmosphererapidly becoming smoke-laden.

  "Well done, brother-in-law!" he cried, and in the throes of that deadlystrife those two began a friendship not to be severed on this side ofthe great boundary. As the house was attacked simultaneously on threesides, Colville ran around it to tell each member of his tiny forceto fall back on the staircase when hard pressed. The instruction wasgiven not a second too soon. Trusting to their great numbers, the menof Oku came on boldly. They were first-rate soldiers in their ownway, they anticipated an easy victory, and they were filled with thefrenzied desire to use steel rather than lead. That is the bushman'stemperament; killing loses half its ferocious joy if he cannot "paint"his weapon. This sheer lust of blood now served the little garrison ingood stead. True, it exposed them to the combined onslaught of hundredsof sinewy negroes, but it saved them from the speedy exterminationthat must have been their lot were their assailants content to shootthem down at close quarters. In less than a minute after the stockadewas passed by the enemy, Warden, Colville, Fairholme, Beni Kalli--whoused an adze he stumbled across in the doorway of the store--the Hausasergeant, and seven of the rank and file--twelve men all told--were ina half circle around the foot of the stairs, plying rifle and bayoneton a wall of black humanity. The very strength of the attacking forceplaced it at a disadvantage. The men in front were hindered by thosewho surged up in ever-increasing waves from the rear. Every shot firedby the defenders effected losses out of all proportion to the generalrun of wounds inflicted by musketry even in a hand-to-hand engagement.Though the wretched warriors who bore the brunt of the assault mighthave escaped bullet or butt or bayonet thrust, there was no dodgingthe withering blasts of powder which blinded and scorched them, andsmote their naked limbs with strange buffets. The eerie yells of thosewho thought the mission had already fallen mingled with the screamsof the wounded and the groans of the dying. The place reeked like aslaughter-house, and the corpses of those who were killed outright, orthe maimed and writhing men who had sustained injuries which renderedthem incapable of crawling out of that packed space, formed a veritablerampart around the defenders.

  At this stage the loss of a skilled leader like Loanda made itself feltamong his followers. He would either have set fire to the unprotectedrear of the building or drawn off a part of his force and renewed theshooting from a flank. Any such diversion by a tithe of the warriorsengaged would render the position immediately untenable by the threewhite men and the Hausas. When, at last, the flanking maneuver wasattempted by half a dozen negroes who had extricated themselvesunharmed from the press beneath the overhanging roof of the stairs,the disastrous effect of their strategy showed what might have beenaccomplished but for the smallness of their number. Colville fell,and the Hausa sergeant, and two men. A bullet plowed through Warden'shair, and another ripped Fairholme's coat and shirt, and grazed hisbreast, and these casualties resulted before the few men attempting theenfilade had fired two rounds per rifle.

  Warden, alive to a danger that promised instant collapse, slungColville across his shoulder and gave the order that the few whoremained alive should fall back, still fighting steadily, until theyhad mounted the double stairs and gained the veranda.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the end had come. His surprise hadfailed. He had hoped that the unexpected presence of the Hausas and aparty of white people might damp the ardor of the men of Oku, who hadlooked forward to securing an easy prey in the mission, and who couldnot possibly have anticipated a stubborn resistance by troops whom theyhad learned to fear. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred his beliefwould have been justified. That there was an exception now arose fromthe fact that the tribal witch-doctors had made much of the modern armswhich the tribesmen possessed.

  "You have the white man's fetish," they declared. "Hitherto our ju-juhas not prevailed against them. To-day you are invulnerable."

  Under European leaders this mistaken logic would not have caused areversion to the method of combined attack so dear to the nativewarrior. Loanda and some of his lieutenants had already displayed theirshrewdness by harping constantly on the necessity of depending more onthe rifle and less on spear or matchet. They would never have permittedan advance in force if they were not certain of their ability tooverpower the weak detachment of Hausas at the first rush. In a sense,it was Evelyn's presence which brought about this decision. TheirPortuguese ally had made such a point of her capture uninjured thatthey wished to gratify him, while there were other forcible reasons whythey should not waste too many hours on the siege of a paltry placelike the mission station.

  There was no doubt in his mind that the end had come _Page 304_]

  Though the struggle thus far was short and sharp, the unhappy peoplewithin the walls were only too conscious of its developments. To theirstrained senses it seemed that at any moment the door must be burstopen and they swept into the clutches of merciless savages. They couldnot tell who was living or dead. The incessant shooting and the howlsand agonized cries of the negroes drowned all other sounds. Evelynthought she heard Warden addressing some order to the Hausas, but shecould not be sure. Hume, in whom the man was rapidly supplanting themissioner, wished to take a personal share in the defense, but his wifeclung to him in an agony of terror, and implored him not to leave her.While trying to soothe the distracted woman he reflected that he wouldprobably prove more of a hindrance than otherwise in the fighting line.If he used a gun at all it must be as a cudgel, for he did not evenunderstand the mechanism of the breech-block.

  Bambuk, though a Mohammedan and a Foulah, was no longer a fighting man.He had waxed fat and prosperous, and he waited now for death with thefatalism he had displayed ever since he knew for certain that the menof Oku were bent on looting Kadana.

  Evelyn, leaning against the door, with every faculty on the alert forthe slightest indication of Warden's welfare, nevertheless let her mindstray
in the most bewildering manner. She was devoid of fear. If givenher choice, she would be out there in the thick of the struggle, usingher puny strength on behalf of the man she loved. Instead, she wascondemned to inaction. The intolerable darkness became oppressive, andher memory flew back through time and space to the sunlit day when shesat with Warden and Peter Evans in the little dinghy of the _Nancy_,and saw the grim face of the Oku chief dancing about on the blue watersof the Solent.

  What a trivial incident it was in some respects--yet what a mightyupheaval it portended! No matter in what direction her whirlingthoughts took her, the carved calabash seemed to be mixed up withevents in a way that was hardly credible. It brought her and Wardentogether. That chance meeting on a summer morning gave them a bondof interest which quickly strengthened into affection and love. Thenit led them into the intricacies of a political plot, sent Warden toLondon, caused him to encounter Mrs. Laing, with all the heartache andmisery that resulted therefrom, and cast him ashore at Rabat to becomea slave and a desert wanderer. She herself had been equally its sport.Her knowledge of the men of Oku alone induced Figuero and Baumgartnerto conspire against her. If she had never seen the gourd it was morethan probable that she would never have gazed on the Benu? River. Andhow persistently that weird creation of Domenico Garcia's skill hadclung to either Warden or herself. It was not to be shaken off. Evennow, when they were on the very threshold of death, it was lying therein her room, shrouded in a canvas case. She could almost see its evilscowl everlastingly threatening mankind.

  Though a fresh outburst of firing startled her highly strung nerves shefelt somewhat of a thrill of supernatural awe at the fancy that thecarved image of the by-gone King of Benin had forced its way back tothe actual locality in which its human prototype had ruled millions ofthose very men who were now clamoring for the lives of herself and hercompanions.

  It was a strange notion, and it dominated her for a moment to theexclusion of all else. Could it be possible that there were subtleforces at work of whose existence she was wholly unaware? Had theseunhappy blacks some power at command which was denied to those wholorded it over them? Of late she had read a good deal concerning thesupposed origin of Obi rites in West African fetish-worship. She hadnever seen a real ju-ju man until that afternoon, but his appearanceand antics were sufficiently striking to create a vivid impressionquite apart from the tragic sequel to his incantation. The queer beliefthat the calabash was in some degree responsible for the bloodshedgoing on within a few feet of where she stood so took hold of her thatshe found the continued darkness unbearable.

  "Mr. Hume," she said, forcing her parched lips to utter the words,"don't you think the lamp might be lit now? It cannot make muchdifference. We are nearing the end."

  For reply Hume struck a match, and applied it to the wick. Thecomfortable and spacious room suddenly assumed its familiar guise. Itlooked quiet and home-like. The turmoil raging beneath seemed to beabsurdly incongruous--a horrible dream rather than a dread reality.

  Yet the lamp was hardly well alight ere Warden's voice came from theveranda.

  "Open the door, Hume!" he cried. "Colville is wounded!"

  Evelyn, owing to her nearness, flung wide the door before themissionary could reach it. Warden stood there, ghastly to behold, butstill apparently free from any grave injury. His left arm encircledColville's limp body, and in his right hand was a gun-barrel from whichthe stock had been broken off. In his Arab costume, travel-soiledand blood-stained, he looked the incarnation of fearsome war, whilethe seemingly lifeless form he carried added a note of horror to hisappalling aspect.

  But when he saw Evelyn he actually smiled. She caught the tender lookin his eyes through the mask of blood and dirt and perspiration.

  "I fear it is all up with us, sweetheart," he said. "I don't thinkColville is dead, but it is only a matter of seconds for him and therest of us. Have you a revolver? Give me that lamp. It may help alittle. Under this low roof we cannot distinguish friend from foe."

  He spoke so gently, with such well-balanced modulation, that he mighthave been standing at the door of some peaceful villa overlooking theThames, with no more serious purport in his words than to light the wayfor a guest. But a rush and a furious melee on the stairs showed whatmanner of guest might be expected, and that ominous question anent arevolver was not lost on Evelyn. Hume took Colville into his arms, andWarden, without waiting for the lamp, turned to reinforce the five menwho now held the enemy at bay.

  The girl, with a Berserk courage worthy of her ancestry, snatched upthe lamp and ran with it to the veranda. Attached to a pillar at thehead of the stairs was a bracket on which a light was placed each nightin the rainy season to attract the insects that would otherwise invadethe house. She put the lamp there, and stole one awestricken glanceat the furious conflict raging on both sides of the lower landing. Abullet, fired from a muzzle-loader, sang past her face. She almostwished that a truer aim had found heart or brain, because then shewould be spared the affrighting alternative suggested by Warden. If shedid not die by her own hand, would the men of Oku kill her? She fearedthey would not!

  For an instant the rays of the lamp enabled the defense to beat backthe first surge of what must surely be the final and successfulassault. A gigantic native, whom she did not know--but who was swingingan adze in fine style by Warden's side, turned and gazed at her. It wasBeni Kalli, Warden's negro companion in the escape from Lektawa, andnow his most devoted henchman. He had seldom seen a white woman, andnever one in any way resembling Evelyn. To his untutored mind, she wasa spirit.

  "Now, may Allah be praised!" he cried joyfully, "we shall whip thesedogs of pagans back to their swamp, for mine eyes have seen one of thelily maids who tend the Prophet's flock in Paradise."

  Warden, who thought his gigantic retainer had gone fey, looked aroundand found that Evelyn was immediately behind him, though on a slightlyhigher level. She was standing in a most perilous position. There wasa space of at least three feet between the lower edge of the mainroof and the slight scantling that protected the staircase from thetremendous rainstorms of the tropics, and any one standing a littleway back from the house could not fail to see her. He forgot theheartbroken advice he had just given her. He realized only that thewoman he loved was in mortal peril.

  "Go back!" he shouted. "For God's sake, go in and bolt the door! Youwill be shot from the compound!"

  A negro leaped round the corner of the stairs and struck at him witha matchet. Beni Kalli was just in time to parry the blow. Then theadze whirled, and buried itself in the man's skull. Before it couldbe withdrawn a spear darted up viciously, but Warden's broken riflediverted the thrust and a Hausa got his bayonet home. Nevertheless, adozen more negroes were forcing their way up on both sides. Fairholme,valiant little aristocrat, was borne down and fell, utterly exhausted,at Evelyn's feet. A Hausa was shot through the head and dropped acrossFairholme's body. Three men, Warden, Beni Kalli, and a Hausa, now aloneheld at bay the human wolves who saw victory within their grasp.

  Evelyn refused to re-enter the house. She meant to die there by herlover's side. Why did not merciful death come quickly? It would bebetter if she passed before him. She breathed a prayer that God wouldvouchsafe this grace, for her woman's heart revolted from the thoughtthat she should see him killed. In a very trance of hope that her wishmight be granted, she looked into the moonlit compound and stretchedout her arms pitifully, for she well knew that while Warden lived nokindly spear or native sword would free her soul for that eternalmeeting.

  But the men of Oku were running, running for their lives and throwingaway their cherished rifles, lest they should not be able to run fastenough. Through the drifting smoke of the burning huts and the hazenow spreading up the bank from the river, she saw little squads ofdark-clothed Hausas rushing in pursuit of the flying blacks. Greatestmarvel of all, scattered among the Hausas were a number of Britishsailors. There was no mistaking their uniforms or the exceeding zestwith which they entered into the last phase of a first-rate fight.
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br />   When the wondrous fact that succor was at hand penetrated the ecstasyof that mute appeal to death, she did not cry it aloud to Warden. Notonly would she imperil both him and his two companions by distractingtheir attention from the cut-and-thrust combat on the stairs, but, sadto relate of a tender-hearted girl, she found a delirious satisfactionin watching the sweep of gun-barrel and adze and the wicked plunging ofthe Hausa bayonet. Why should not these ravening beasts be punished?What harm had she or any one in the mission done them that they shouldhowl so frantically for their blood?

  But she prayed--oh, how she prayed!--that the relieving force wouldhurry. She could not tell that officers and men of the white contingentwere astounded by the spectacle of a slight, girlish figure, robed inmuslin and seemingly in no fear of her life, standing under the brightrays of a lamp on the veranda of the beleaguered mission-house. Itdid not occur to her that they would see her; and, simply because shewas there, they by no means expected to find a desperate fight beingwaged in the narrow space of the staircase. But they soon woke up tothe facts when the foremost man came near enough to discover the blackfigures wedged in both gangways.

  "Come on!" he yelled. "This is what we're looking for!"

  "No shooting, boys!" roared a jubilant naval lieutenant. "Bayonetsonly! Dig 'em out!"

  And dug out they were, in a manner not prescribed by the drill book,until the passages were clear, and the newcomers were marveling atthe way in which the mission-house was held, and Warden was free tolay aside that useful gun-barrel and stoop to lift the dead Hausa offFairholme's almost breathless body.

  The officer, who was first up the stairs, looked round for some one inauthority. He saw an Arab and a girl supporting a white man betweenthem. To his profound amazement, he heard the Arab say:

  "He is all right, dear. Those cuts are superficial, just like my own.But he is thoroughly spent. I am almost at the end of my own tether,though I was hard as nails till that wretched fever bowled me over inOku."

  "But, Arthur darling," he was even more astounded at hearing from thegirl's lips, "where have the troops come from? What special decree ofProvidence brought them to our rescue?"

  "Here is some one who can tell us?" said Warden, looking at thelieutenant, while he placed Fairholme on a chair in the living-room.

  "May I ask who you are?" demanded the sailor, finding his tongue butslowly.

  "My name is Warden, Captain Arthur Warden, of the Southern NigeriaProtectorate--and yours?"

  "Warden! Are you in earnest?"

  "Never more so. Won't you follow my example?"

  "Oh, I'm Bellairs, of the _Valiant_."

  "Did Captain Mortimer send you?" cried Evelyn, who was mightily afraidthat the moment she spoke she would burst into tears.

  "Well--yes. You are Miss Dane, I suppose? And this is Lord Fairholme.Is poor Colville gone?"

  "Not very far," said a weak voice from an inner room. "My collar-boneis broken and I've lost chips off several sections, but I'll be able toshove along with my arm in a sling."

  "Has anybody got any liquor?" murmured another weak voice from a chair."I don't care what it is--even water. I've got a thirst I wouldn't sellfor a pony."

  Hume, who had fallen on his knees when he heard the strange voices,and looked out to find that the battle was ended, rose and went to acupboard.

  "I have here two quarts of champagne which I meant to keep for casesof serious illness," he said. "I don't think any of us will ever be sonear death again until the scythe-bearer comes and will not be denied,so if any of you gentlemen are expert at opening these bottles--"

  Fairholme recovered instantly.

  "Hand one here," he gasped. "I'm a double blue at drawin' corks andemptyin' a bottle of bubbly."

  Hume, who had lighted a second lamp, produced some glasses. Then heglanced at a clock.

  "Can it be possible that all this dreadful business has lasted onlyfour minutes?" he asked.

  "Four minutes!" cried the sailor. "Why, we heard firing in thisdirection nearly twenty minutes ago!"

  "That was the first round, when the blacks tried to frighten us intosubmission," said Warden. "But, now that I come to think of it, thescrap itself cannot have occupied many seconds more than your estimate,Hume."

  "Do you mean to tell me that you five accounted for that heap of----"

  He stopped and looked at Evelyn and Mrs. Hume. The latter was strivingto dry her eyes while she sipped some of the wine. Poor lady! She wasnot cast in the heroic mold, nor had she ever pretended to be.

  "There were more than five of us," explained Warden sadly. "Eleven ofColville's Hausas are down."

  "Some of them can only be wounded," said Evelyn. "Let us go and attendto them."

  "Better not, Miss Dane," interposed the sailor hastily. He had seenthings in the compound which rendered it advisable for the women toremain indoors until the river crocodiles had claimed their tribute. "Iwill tell some of my men to look after them," he explained, "and oursurgeon will soon be here. Just now he is busy on board the launches."

  "What? Have you been engaged, too?" asked Warden.

  "By Jove, we dropped in for the biggest surprise I ever heard of. Justfancy being blazed at with Nordenfeldts by niggers! Luckily for us, wecame on them unawares, and two of the canoes were headed up-stream. Therow that was going on here stopped them from hearing the engines, or Imust candidly confess that if they had been ready for us they mighthave sunk the flotilla before we came within striking distance. As itwas, they got in a few rounds that raked a couple of boats fore andaft, before we got busy with a Gatling. I suppose you didn't catch theracket on account of the dust up here."

  "But why in the name of wonder, are you here at all?" demanded Warden.

  "Well, my ship reported that a yacht called the _Sans Souci_ had landeda lot of arms and ammunition in a creek in neighboring territories.That made the authorities think a bit. But one of your fellows whoaccompanied us told me that the real scare came when a Mrs. Laing--sheknows you, Warden, and she had been living some weeks at Lokoja--wasseized with blackwater fever. She was pretty bad, so she sent for theCommissioner to put her affairs in order. Among other things, shewarned him that some Portuguese scoundrel was undoubtedly planning arising at Oku, and indeed all along the line of the Benu? and rightthrough Southern Nigeria. There had been some rather curious ju-juperformances recently in a few of the seaboard districts, so it wasdecided to send a strong column up the Benu? to investigate matters.We dropped detachments of Hausas at every station we passed, and hadintended halting some miles below here to-night, when we heard thedrums going in the bush. Your Hausa man--Hudson his name is--urged usto push on this far. Jolly good job we did."

  "Has Mrs. Laing recovered?" asked Evelyn fearfully. The sailorhesitated a moment. He seemed to leave something unsaid.

  "Oh, no. She went under in a day. Sad thing. I have never met her. Anawfully nice woman, Hudson says."

  "I am sorry," sobbed Evelyn. "She was too young to die, and she has nothad much happiness in her life."

  "Let there be no more talk of death--I am weary of it," said Wardencheerily, and he broke off into Arabic.

  "What sayest thou, Beni Kalli? Hast seen enough of the black camelsince we left Lektawa together?"

  "Verily, Seyyid," grinned the native. "I thought you and I should mounthim in company to-night."

  "Can you do me the exceeding favor of lending me a suit of clothes?"said Warden, seeing that Bellairs was about his own height.

  "Certainly. Come down to my launch. We ought to hold a council of war,I think. By the way, I suppose the ladies will not stir out of thisroom till your return."

  "No," said Evelyn promptly. "We shall prepare supper, but if you keepCaptain Warden more than half an hour I shall come for him."

  "You must remain here, sweetheart," said the grim-looking Arab. "Thereis a lot to be done outside. Be sure I shall join you without delay.Come along, Bellairs, and rummage your kit--there's a good chap."

  As they crossed the compound toge
ther, the sailor appeared to make uphis mind to discharge a disagreeable duty.

  "By the way," he said, "I hope I am not mixing matters absurdly, butare you the Warden that Mrs. Laing was once engaged to?"

  "Yes--more than ten years ago. What of it?"

  "Well, she has left you everything she possessed--a regular pile,somebody told me."

  "On condition that I do not marry Evelyn Dane, I suppose?" said Warden,who treated the sailor's astonishing announcement as though the receiptof a thumping legacy were an every-day affair.

  "I haven't heard anything of a fly in the amber," said Bellairs."Hudson knows all about it--he will be able to tell you."

  But Warden had no word to say to Hudson concerning Rosamund Laing orher bequest. His mind was too full of the greater wonder that Evelynand he should meet on the Benu?; that it had fallen to him to snatchher from the clutches of the men of Oku.