native races and the war, by josephine e. butler. london: gay & bird. newcastle-on-tyne: mawson, swan, & morgan. 1900. dedicated to my children and grandchildren. i. apology for "yet another book" on the south african question. future peace must be based on justice,--to coloured as well as white men. difference between legalized slavery and the subjection of natives by individuals. the transvaal in 1877: its bankruptcy: its annexation by great britain: its liberation from great britain in 1881. convention of 1881 signed at pretoria. british commissioners' audience with 300 native chiefs. speeches and sorrowful protests of the chiefs. royal commission appointed to take evidence. evidence of natives and others concerning slavery in the transvaal. appeal of the christian king khama. letter of m'plaank, nephew of cetewayo. prevalence of contempt for the native races. sympathy of a native chief with the sufferings of christ. in the midst of the manifold utterances and discussions on the burning question of to-day,--the war in south africa,--there is one side of the subject which, it seems to me, has not as yet been considered with the seriousness which it deserves,--and that is the question of slavery, and of the treatment of the native races of south africa. though this question has not yet in england or on the continent been cited as one of the direct causes of the war, i am convinced,--as are many others,--that it lies very near to the heart of the present trouble. the object of this paper is simply to bring witnesses together who will testify to the past and present condition of the native races under british, dutch, and transvaal rule. these witnesses shall not be all of one nation; they shall come from different countries, and among them there shall be representatives of the native peoples themselves. i shall add little of my own to the testimony of these witnesses. but i will say, in advance, that what i desire to make plain for some sincere persons who are perplexed, is this,--that where a government has established by law the principle of the complete and final abolition of slavery, and made its practice illegal for all time,--as our british government has done,--there is hope for the native races;--there is always hope that, by an appeal to the law and to british authority, any and every wrong done to the natives, which approaches to or threatens the reintroduction of slavery, shall be redressed. the abolition of slavery, enacted by our government in 1834, was the proclamation of a great principle, strong and clear, a straight line by which every enactment dealing with the question, and every act of individuals, or groups of individuals, bearing on the liberty of the natives can be measured, and any deviation from that straight line of principle can be exactly estimated and judged. when we speak of injustice done to the natives by the south african republics, we are apt to be met with the reproach that the english have also been guilty of cruelty to native races. this is unhappily true, and shall not be disguised in the following pages;--but mark this,--that it is true of certain individuals bearing the english name, true of groups of individuals, of certain adventurers and speculators. but this fact does not touch the far more important and enduring fact that _wherever british rule is established, slavery is abolished, and illegal_. this fact is the ground of the hope for the future of the missionaries of our own country, and of other european countries, as well as of the poor natives themselves, so far as they have come to understand the matter; and in several instances they have shown that they do understand it, and appreciate it keenly. those english persons, or groups of persons, who have denied to the native labourers their hire (which is the essence of slavery), have acted on their own responsibility, and _illegally_. this should be made to be clearly understood in future conditions of peace, and rendered impossible henceforward. that future peace which we all desire, on the cessation of the present grievous war, must be a peace founded on justice, for there is no other peace worthy of the name; and it must be not only justice as between white men, but as between white men and men of every shade of complexion. a speaker at a public meeting lately expressed a sentiment which is more or less carelessly repeated by many. i quote it, as helping me to define the principle to which i have referred, which marks the difference between an offence or crime committed by an individual _against_ the law, and an offence or crime sanctioned, permitted, or enacted by a state or government itself, or by public authority in any way. this speaker, after confessing, apparently with reluctance, that "the south african republic had not been stainless in its relations towards the blacks," added, "but for these deeds--every one of them--we could find a parallel among our own people." i think a careful study of the history of the south african races would convince this speaker that he has exaggerated the case as against "our own people" in the matter of deliberate cruelty and violence towards the natives. however that may be, it does not alter the fact of the wide difference between the evil deeds of men acting on their own responsibility and the evil deeds of governments, and of communities in which the governmental authorities do not forbid, but sanction, such actions. as an old abolitionist, who has been engaged for thirty years in a war against slavery in another form, may i be allowed to cite a parallel? that anti-slavery war was undertaken against a law introduced into england, which endorsed, permitted, and in fact, legalized, a moral and social slavery already existing--a slavery to the vice of prostitution. the pioneers of the opposition to this law saw the tremendous import, and the necessary consequences of such a law. they had previously laboured to lessen the social evil by moral and spiritual means, but now they turned their whole attention to obtaining the abolition of the disastrous enactment which took that evil under its protection. they felt that the action of government in passing that law brought the whole nation (which is responsible for its government) under a sentence of guilt--a sentence of moral death. it lifted off from the shoulders of individuals, in a measure, the moral responsibility which god had laid upon them, and took that responsibility on its own shoulders, as representing the whole nation; it foreshadowed a national blight. my readers know that we destroyed that legislation after a struggle of eighteen years. in the course of that long struggle, we were constantly met by an assertion similar in spirit to that made by the speaker to whom i have referred; and to this day we are met by it in certain european countries. they say to us, "but for every scandal proceeding from this social vice, which you cite as committed under the system of governmental regulation and sanction, we can find a parallel in the streets of london, where no governmental sanction exists." we are constantly taunted with this, and possibly we may have to admit its truth in a measure. but our accusers do not see the immense difference between governmental and individual responsibility in this vital matter, neither do they see how additionally hard, how hopeless, becomes the position of the slave who, under the government sanction, has no appeal to the law of the land; an appeal to the government which is itself an upholder of slavery, is impossible. the speaker above cited concluded by saying: "the best precaution against the abuse of power on the part of whites living amidst a coloured population is to make the punishment of misdeeds come home to the persons who are guilty of those misdeeds; and if he could but get his countrymen to act up to that view he believed we should really have a better prospect for the future of south africa than we had had in the past." with this sentiment i am entirely in accord. it is our hope that the present national awakening on the whole subject of our position and responsibilities in south africa will--in case of the re-establishment of peace under the principles of british rule--result in a change in the condition of the native races, both in the transvaal, and at the hands of our countrymen and others who may be acting in their own interests, or in the interests of commercial societies. i do not intend to sketch anything approaching to a history of south african affairs during the last seventy or eighty years; that has been ably done by others, writing from both the british and the boer side. i shall only attempt to trace the condition of certain native tribes in connection with some of the most salient events in south africa of the century which is past. in 1877, as my readers know, the transvaal was annexed by sir theophilus shepstone. there are very various opinions as to the justice of that annexation. i will only here remark that it was at the earnest solicitation of the transvaal leaders of that date that an interference on the part of the british commissioner was undertaken. the republic was in a state of apparently hopeless anarchy, owing to constant conflicts with warlike native tribes around and in the heart of the country. the exchequer was exhausted. by the confession of the president (burgers) the country was on the verge of bankruptcy.[1] the acceptance of the annexation was not unanimous, but it was accepted formally in a somewhat sullen and desponding spirit, as a means of averting further impending calamity and restoring a measure of order and peace. whether this justified or not the act of annexation i do not pretend to judge. the results, however, for the republic were for the time, financial relief and prosperity, and better treatment of the natives. the financial condition of the country, as i have said, at the time of the annexation, was one of utter bankruptcy. "after three years of british rule, however, the total revenue receipts for the first quarter of 1879 and 1880 amounted to £22,773 and £47,982 respectively. that is to say, that, during the last year of british rule, the revenue of the country more than doubled itself, and amounted to about £160,000 a year, taking the quarterly returns at the low average of £40,000."[2] trade, also, which in april, 1877, was completely paralysed, had increased enormously. in the middle of 1879, the committee of the transvaal chamber of commerce pointed out that the trade of the country had in two years risen to the sum of two millions sterling per annum. they also pointed out that more than half the land-tax was paid by englishmen and other europeans. in 1881, the transvaal (under mr. gladstone's administration) was liberated from british control. it was given back to its own leaders, under certain conditions, agreed to and solemnly signed by the president. these are the much-discussed conditions of the convention of 1881, one of these conditions being that slavery should be abolished. this condition was indeed, insisted on in every agreement or convention made between the british government and the boers; the first being that of 1852, called the sand river convention; the second, a convention entered into two years later called the bloemfontein convention (which created the orange free state); a third agreement as to the cessation of slavery was entered into at the period of the annexation, 1877; a fourth was the convention of 1881; a fifth the convention of 1884. i do not here speak of the other terms of these conventions, i only remark that in each a just treatment of the native races was demanded and agreed to. the retrocession of the transvaal in 1881 has been much lauded as an act of magnanimity and justice. there is no doubt that the motive which prompted it was a noble and generous one; yet neither is there any doubt, that in certain respects, the results of that act were unhappy, and were no doubt unanticipated. it was on the natives, whose interests appeared to have had no place in the generous impulses of mr. gladstone, that the action of the british government fell most heavily, most mournfully. in this matter, it must be confessed that the english government broke faith with the unhappy natives, to whom it had promised protection, and who so much needed it. in this, as in many other matters, our country, under successive governments, has greatly erred; at times neglecting responsibilities to her loyal colonial subjects, and at other times interfering unwisely. in one matter, england has, however, been consistent, namely, in the repeated proclamations that slavery should never be permitted under her rule and authority. the formal document of agreement between her majesty's government and the boer leaders, known as the convention of 1881, was signed by both parties at pretoria on the afternoon of the 3rd august, in the same room in which, nearly four years before, the annexation proclamation was signed by sir t. shepstone. this formality was followed by a more unpleasant duty for the commissioners appointed to settle this business, namely, the necessity of conveying their message to the natives, and informing them that they had been handed back by great britain, "poor canaanites," to the tender mercies of their masters, the "chosen people," in spite of the despairing appeals which many of them had made to her. some three hundred of the principal native chiefs were called together in the square at pretoria, and there the english commissioner read to them the proclamation of queen victoria. sir hercules robinson, the chief commissioner, having "introduced the native chiefs to messrs. kruger, pretorius, and joubert," having given them good advice as to indulging in manual labour when asked to do so by the boers, and having reminded them that it would be necessary to retain the law relating to passes, which is, in the hands of a people like the boers, almost as unjust a regulation as a dominant race can invent for the oppression of a subject people, concluded by assuring them that their "interests would never be forgotten or neglected by her majesty's government." having read this document, the commission hastily withdrew, and after their withdrawal the chiefs were "allowed" to state their opinions to the secretary for native affairs. in availing themselves of this permission, it is noticeable that no allusion was made by the chiefs to the advantages they were to reap under the convention. all their attention was given to the great fact that the country had been ceded to the boers, and that they were no longer the queen's subjects. i beg attention to the following appeals from the hearts of these oppressed people. they got very excited, and asked whether it was thought that they had no feelings or hearts, that they were thus treated as a stick or piece of tobacco, which could be passed from hand to hand without question. umgombarie, a zoutpansberg chief, said: "i am umgombarie. i have fought with the boers, and have many wounds, and they know that what i say is true. i will never consent to place myself under their rule. i belong to the english government. i am not a man who eats with both sides of his jaw at once; i only use one side. i am english. i have said." silamba said: "i belong to the english. i will never return under the boers. you see me, a man of my rank and position; is it right that such as i should be seized and laid on the ground and flogged, as has been done to me and other chiefs?" sinkanhla said: "we hear and yet do not hear, we cannot understand. we are troubling you, chief, by talking in this way; we hear the chiefs say that the queen took the country because the people of the country wished it, and again, that the majority of the owners of the country did not wish her rule, and that therefore the country was given back. we should like to have the man pointed out from among us black people who objects to the rule of the queen. we are the real owners of the country; we were here when the boers came, and without asking leave, settled down and treated us in every way badly. the english government then came and took the country; we have now had four years of rest, and peaceful and just rule. we have been called here to-day, and are told that the country, our country, has been given to the boers by the queen. this is a thing which surprises, us. did the country, then, belong to the boers? did it not belong to our fathers and forefathers before us, long before the boers came here? we have heard that the boers' country is at the cape. if the queen wishes to give them their land, why does she not give them back the cape?" umyethile said: "we have no heart for talking. i have returned to the country from sechelis, where i had to fly from boer oppression. our hearts are black and heavy with grief to-day at the news told us. we are in agony; our intestines are twisting and writhing inside of us, just as you see a snake do when it is struck on the head. we do not know what has become of us, but we feel dead. it may be that the lord may change the nature of the boers, and that we will not be treated like dogs and beasts of burden as formerly; but we have no hope of such a change, and we leave you with heavy hearts and great apprehension as to the future."[3] in his report, mr. shepstone (secretary for native affairs) says, "one chief, jan sibilo, who had been personally threatened with death by the boers after the english should leave, could not restrain his feelings, but cried like a child." in 1881, the year of the retrocession of the transvaal, a royal commission was appointed from england to enquire into the internal state of affairs in the south african republic. on the 9th may of that year, an affidavit was sworn to before that commission by the rev. john thorne, of st. john the evangelist, lydenburg, transvaal. he stated: "i was appointed to the charge of a congregation in potchefstroom when the republic was under the presidency of mr. pretorius. i noticed one morning, as i walked through the streets, a number of young natives whom i knew to be strangers. i enquired where they came from. i was told that they had just been brought from zoutpansberg. this was the locality from which slaves were chiefly brought at that time, and were traded for under the name of 'black ivory.' one of these slaves belonged to mr. munich, the state attorney." in the fourth paragraph of the same affidavit, mr. thorne says that "the rev. dr. nachtigal, of the berlin missionary society, was the interpreter for shatane's people, in the private office of mr. roth, and, at the close of the interview, told me what had occurred. on my expressing surprise, he went on to relate that he had information on native matters which would surprise me more. he then produced the copy of a register, kept in the landdrost's office, of men, women, and children, to the number of four hundred and eighty (480), who had been disposed of by one boer to another for a consideration. in one case an ox was given in exchange, in another goats, in a third a blanket, and so forth. many of these natives he (mr. nachtigal) knew personally. the copy was certified as true and correct by an official of the republic."[4] on the 16th may, 1881, a native, named frederick molepo, was examined by the royal commission. the following are extracts from his examination:-"(_sir evelyn wood_.) are you a christian?--yes. "(_sir h. de villiers_.) how long were you a slave?--half-a-year. "how do you know that you were a slave? might you not have been an apprentice?--no, i was not apprenticed. "how do you know?--they got me from my parents, and ill-treated me. "(_sir evelyn wood_.) how many times did you get the stick?--every day. "(_sir h. de villiers_.) what did the boers do with you when they caught you?--they sold me. "how much did they sell you for?--one cow and a big pot." on the 28th may, 1881, amongst the other documents-handed in for the consideration of the royal commission, is the statement of a headman, whose name also it was considered advisable to omit in the blue book, lest the boers should take vengeance on him. he says, "i say, that if the english government dies i shall die too; i would rather die than be under the boer government. i am the man who helped to make bricks for the church you see now standing in the square here (pretoria), as a slave without payment. as a representative of my people, i am still obedient to the english government, and willing to obey all commands from them, even to die for their cause in this country, rather than submit to the boers. "i was under shambok, my chief, who fought the boers-formerly, but he left us, and we were _put up to auction_ and sold among the boers. i want to state this myself to the royal commission. i was bought by fritz botha and sold by frederick botha, who was then veldt cornet (justice of the peace) of the boers." many more of such extracts might be quoted, but it is not my motive to multiply horrors. these are given exactly as they stand in the original, which may all be found in blue books-presented to parliament. it has frequently been denied on behalf of the transvaal, and is denied at this day, in the face of innumerable witnesses to the contrary, that slavery exists in the transvaal. now, this may be considered to be verbally true. slavery, they say, did not exist; but apprenticeship did, and does exist. it is only another name. it is not denied that some boers have been kind to their slaves, as humane slave-owners frequently were in the southern states of america. but kindness, even the most indulgent, to slaves, has never been held by abolitionists to excuse the existence of slavery. mr. rider haggard, who spent a great part of his life in the transvaal and other parts of south africa, wrote in 1899: "the assertion that slavery did not exist in the transvaal is made to hoodwink the british public. i have known men who have owned slaves, and who have seen whole waggon-loads of black ivory, as they were called, sold for about £15 a piece. i have at this moment a tenant, carolus by name, on some land i own in natal, now a well-to-do man, who was for twenty years a boer slave. he told me that during those years he worked from morning till night, and the only reward he received was two calves. he finally escaped to natal." going back some years, evidence may be found, equally well attested with that already quoted. on the 22nd august, 1876, khama, the christian king of the bamangwato (bechuanaland), one of the most worthy chiefs which any country has had the good fortune to be ruled by, wrote to sir henry de villiers the following message, to be sent to queen victoria:--"i write to you, sir henry, in order that your queen may preserve for me my country, it being in her hands. the boers are coming into it, and i do not like them. their actions are cruel among us black people. we are like money; they sell us and our children. i ask her majesty to pity me, and to hear that which i write quickly. i wish to hear upon what conditions her majesty will receive me, and my country and my people, under her protection. i am weary with fighting. i do not like war, and i ask her majesty to give me peace. i am very much distressed that my people are being destroyed by war, and i wish them to obtain peace. i ask her majesty to defend me, as she defends all her people. there are three things which distress me very much--war, selling people, and drink. all these things i find in the boers, and it is these things which destroy people, to make an end of them in the country. the custom of the boers has always been to cause people to be sold, and to-day they are still selling people. last year i saw them pass with two waggons full of people whom they had bought at the river at tanane (lake ngate).--khama." the visit of king khama to england, a few years ago, his interview with the queen, and his pathetic appeals on behalf of his people against the intrusion of any aggressors (drink being one of them), are fresh in our memory. coming down to a recent date, i reproduce here a letter from a zulu chief, which appeared in the london press in november, 1899. this letter is written to a gentleman, who accompanied it by the following remarks:--"after i had read this very remarkable letter, i found myself half unconsciously wondering what place in the scheme of south african life will be found for zulus such as this nephew of the last of the zulu kings. one thing i am fully certain of, that there are few natives in the cape colony (where they are full-fledged voters) capable of inditing so sensible an epistle. this communication throws a most welcome light upon the attitude of his people with respect to the momentous events that are in progress, and also it reveals to what a high standard of intellectual culture a pure zulu may attain." "duff's road, durban, november 3rd, 1899. sir,--i keenly appreciate your generous tribute to the loyalty of the zulu nation during the fierce crisis of english rule in south africa. it is the first real test of the loyalty of the zulus, and as a zulu who was once a chief, i rejoice to see that the loyalty and gratitude of my people is appreciated by the white people of natal. it is, as you say, respected sir, a tribute, and a magnificent one, to england's just policy to the zulus. i dare to assert it is even a finer tribute to the natives' appreciation, not only of benefits already conferred, but of the spirit that actuated england in her dealings with him. i may disagree as to the lessons taught by maxim guns, hollow squares, and the 'thin red line.' i think no one can have read colonial history, chronicling as it does, the rise again and again of the native against imperial forces, without feeling that he is influenced far less by england's prowess in war than by her justice in peace. my zulu fellow-countrymen understand as clearly as anyone the weakness and the strength of the present time. if the zulu wished to remember kambula and ulundi, this would be his supreme opportunity to rise and hurl himself across the natal frontier. but i, having just returned from my native country, have been able to report to the government at pietermaritzburg that there is not the slightest symptom of disloyalty, not the idea of lifting a finger against the white subjects of the great and good queen. there is among the chiefs and indunas of my people an almost universal hope that the imperial arms will be victorious, and that a government which, by its inhumanity and relentless injustice, and apparent inability to see that the native has any rights a white man should respect, has forfeited its place among the civilised governments of the earth, and should therefore be deprived of powers so scandalously abused--formerly by slavery, and in later years by disallowing the native to buy land, and utterly neglecting his intellectual and spiritual needs. there are wrongs to be redressed, and we zulus believe that england will be more willing to redress them than any other power. there is still much to be done in the way of educating and civilizing the mass of the zulu nation. we chiefs of that nation have observed that wherever england has gone there the missionary and teacher follow, and that there exists sympathy between the authority of her majesty and the forces that labour for civilization and christianity. we zulus have not yet forgotten what we owe to the late bishop colenso's lifelong advocacy, or to lady florence dixie's kindly interest. these are things that are more than fear of england's might, that keep our people quiet outside and loyal inside. this is not a passive loyalty with us. speaking for almost all my fellow-countrymen in zululand, i believe if a great emergency arises in the course of this history-making war, in which england might find it necessary to put their loyalty to the test, they would respond with readiness and enthusiasm equal to that when they fought under king cetewayo against lord chelmsford's army. again assuring you that the zulu people are turning deaf ears to boer promises, as well as threats, i remain, with the most earnest hope for the ultimate triumph of general buller--who fought my king for half a year. your humble and most obedient servant, m'plaank, son of maguendé, brother of cetewayo." there is unhappily a tendency among persons living for any length of time among heathen people, to think and speak with a certain contempt for those people, at whose moral elevation they may even be sincerely aiming. they see all that is bad in these "inferior races," and little that is good. this was not so in the case of the greatest and most successful missionaries. they never lost faith in human nature, even at its lowest estate, and hence they were able to raise the standard of the least promising of the outcast races of the world. this faith in the possibility of the elevation of these races has been firmly held, however, by some who know them best, and have lived among them the longest. mr rider haggard writes thus on this subject:--"so far as my own experience of natives has gone, i have found that in all the essential qualities of mind and body they very much resemble white men. of them might be aptly quoted the speech shakespeare puts into shylock's mouth: 'hath not a jew eyes? hath not a jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?' in the same way, i ask, has a native no feelings or affections? does he not suffer when his parents are shot, or his children stolen, or when he is driven a wanderer from his home? does he not know fear, feel pain, affection, hate, and gratitude? most certainly he does; and this being so, i cannot believe that the almighty, who made both white and black, gave to the one race the right or mission of exterminating or of robbing or maltreating the other, and calling the process the advance of civilization. it seems to me, that on only one condition, if at all, have we the right to take the black men's land; and that is, that we provide them with an equal and a just government, and allow no maltreatment of them, either as individuals or tribes, but, on the contrary, do our best to elevate them, and wean them from savage customs. otherwise, the practice is surely undefensible. "i am aware, however, that with the exception of a small class, these are sentiments which are not shared by the great majority of the public, either at home or abroad." a french gentleman, who has been for many years connected with the _missions evangéliques_ of france, related recently in my presence some incidents of the early experience of french missionaries in south africa. one of these had laboured for years without encouragement. the hearts of the native people around him remained unmoved. one day, however, he spoke among them especially of calvary, of the sufferings of christ on the cross. a chief who was present left the building in which the teacher was speaking. at the close, this chief was found sitting on the ground outside, his back to the door, his head bent forward and buried in his arms. he was weeping. when spoken to, he raised his arm with a movement of deprecation, and, in a voice full of pity and indignation, said--"to think that there was no one even to give him a drink of water!" that poor savage had known what thirst is. this one awakened chord of human sympathy with the human christ was communicative. other hearts were touched, and from that time the missionary began to reap a rich harvest from his labours. in the midst of the elaborate services of our fashionable london churches is there often to be found so genuine a feeling as that which shook the soul of this chief, and broke down the barrier of coldness and hardness in his fellow-countrymen which had before prevented the acceptance of the message of salvation and of the practical obligations of christianity among them? men who are capable of rising to the knowledge and love of divine truth cannot be supposed to be impervious to the influence of _civilization_ properly understood. footnotes: [footnote 1: the financial resources of the country at that time amounted to 12s. 6d.] [footnote 2: quoted from parliamentary blue book.] [footnote 3: report made on the spot by mr. shepstone (not sir theophilus shepstone), secretary for native affairs.] [footnote 4: the name of that official was held back from publication at the time, as if his act were known by the boers, it was believed it might have cost the man his life.] ii. the causes of the war date far back. the faults of england to be sought in the past. a revised verdict needed. downing street government and successive colonial governors. m. mabille and m. dieterlen, french missionaries. early history of cape colony. abolition of slavery by great britain. compensation to slave owners. first trek of the burghers. there is nothing so fallacious or misleading in history as the popular tendency to trace the causes of a great war to one source alone, or to fix upon the most recent events leading up to it, as the principal or even the sole cause of the outbreak of war. the occasion of an event may not be, and often is not, the cause of it. the occasion of this war was not its cause. in the present case it is extraordinary to note how almost the whole of europe appears to be carried away with the idea that the causes of this terrible south african war are, as it were, only of yesterday's date. the seeds of which we are reaping so woeful a harvest were not sown yesterday, nor a few years ago only. we are reaping a harvest which has been ripening for a century past. at the time of the indian mutiny, it was given out and believed by the world in general that the cause of that hideous revolt was a supposed attempt on the part of england to impose upon the native army of india certain rules which, from their point of view, outraged their religion in some of its most sacred aspects; (i refer to the legend of the greased cartridges). after the mutiny was over, sir herbert edwardes, a true seer, whose insight enabled him to look far below the surface, and to go back many years into the history of our dealings with india in order to take in review all the causes of the rebellion, addressed an exhaustive report to the british government at home, dealing with those causes which had been accumulating for half-a-century or more. this was a weighty document,--one which it would be worth while to re-peruse at the present day; it had its influence in leading the home government to acknowledge some grave errors which had led up to this catastrophe, and to make an honest and persevering attempt to remedy past evils. that this attempt has not been in vain, in spite of all that india has had to suffer, has been acknowledged gratefully by the native delegates to the great annual congress in india of the past year. in the case of the indian mutiny, the incident of the supposed insult to their religious feelings was only the match which set light to a train which had been long laid. in the same way the honest historian will find, in the present case, that the events,--the "tragedy of errors," as they have been called,--of recent date, are but the torch that has set fire to a long prepared mass of combustible material which had been gradually accumulating in the course of a century. in order to arrive at a true estimate of the errors and mismanagement which lie at the root of the causes of the present war, it is necessary to look back. those errors and wrongs must be patiently searched out and studied, without partisanship, with an open mind and serious purpose. many of our busy politicians and others have not the time, some perhaps have not the inclination for any such study. hence, hasty, shallow, and violent judgments. never has there occurred in history a great struggle such as the present which has not had a deep moral teaching. england is now suffering for her past errors, extending over many years. the blood of her sons is being poured out like water on the soil of south africa. wounded hearts and desolated families at home are counted by tens of thousands. but it needs to be courageously stated by those who have looked a little below the surface that her faults have not been those which are attributed to her by a large proportion of european countries, and by a portion of her own people. these appear to attribute this war to a sudden impulse on her part of imperial ambition and greed, and to see in the attitude which they attribute to her alone, the provocative element which was chiefly supplied from the other side. there will have to be a revision of this verdict, and there will certainly be one; it is on the way, though its approach may be slow. it will be rejected by some to the last. the great error of england appears to have been a strange neglect, from time to time, of the true interests of her south african subjects, english, dutch, and natives. there have been in her management of this great colony alternations of apathy and inaction, with interference which was sometimes unwise and hasty. some of her acts have been the result of ignorance, indifference, or superciliousness on the part of our rulers. the special difficulties, however, in her position towards that colony should be taken into account. it has always been a question as to how far interference from downing street with the freedom of action of a self-governing colony was wise or practicable. in other instances, the exercise of great freedom of colonial self-government has had happy results, as in canada and australia. far from our south african policy having represented, as is believed by some, the self-assertion of a proud imperialism, it has been the very opposite. it seems evident that some of the greatest evils in the british government of south africa have arisen from the frequent changes of governors and administrators there, _concurrently with changes in the government at home_. there have been governors under whose influence and control all sections of the people, including the natives, have had a measure of peace and good government. such a governor was sir george grey, of whose far-seeing provisions for the welfare of all classes many effects last to this day. the nature of the work undertaken, and to a great extent done, by sir george grey and those of his successors who followed his example, was concisely described by an able local historian in 1877:--"the aim of the colonial government since 1855," he said, "has been to establish and maintain peace, to diffuse civilization and christianity, and to establish society on the basis of individual property and personal industry. the agencies employed are the magistrate, the missionary, the school-master, and the trader." of the years dating from the commencement of sir george grey's administration, it was thus reported:--"during this time peace has been uninterruptedly enjoyed within british frontiers. the natives have been treated in all respects with justice and consideration. large tracts of the richest land are expressly set apart for them under the name of 'reserves' and 'locations.' the greater part of them live in these locations, under the superintendence of european magistrates or missionaries. as a whole, they are now enjoying far greater comfort and prosperity than they ever did in their normal state of barbaric independence and perpetually recurring tribal wars, before coming into contact with europeans. the advantages and value of british rule have of late years struck root in the native mind over an immense portion of south africa. they believe that it is a protection from external encroachment, and that only under the _ægis_ of the government can they be secure and enjoy peace and prosperity. influenced by this feeling, several tribes beyond the colonial boundaries are now eager to be brought within the pale of civilized authority, and ere long, it is hoped, her majesty's sovereignty will be extended over fresh territories, with the full and free consent of the chiefs and tribes inhabiting them."[5] it maybe of interest to note here that one of these territories was basutoland, which lies close to the south eastern border of the orange free state. between the basutos and the orange free state boers war broke out in 1856, to be followed in 1858 by a temporary and incomplete pacification. the struggle continued, and in 1861, and again in 1865, when war was resumed, and all basutoland was in danger of being conquered by the boers, moshesh, their chief, appealed to the british government for protection. it was not till 1868, after a large part of the country had passed into boer hands, that sir philip wodehouse, sir george grey's successor, was allowed to issue a proclamation declaring so much as remained of basutoland to be british territory. it was sir george grey who first saw the importance of endeavouring to bring all portions of south africa, including the boer republics and the native states, into "federal union with the parent colony" at the cape. he was commissioned by the british government to make enquiries with this object (1858.) he had obtained the support of the orange free state, whose volksraad resolved that "a union with the cape colony, either on the plan of federation or otherwise, is desirable," and was expecting to win over the transvaal boers, when the british government, alarmed as to the responsibilities it might incur, vetoed the project. (such sudden alarms, under the influence of party conflicts at home, have not been infrequent.) for seven years, however, this good governor was permitted to promote a work of pacification and union. i shall refer again later to the misfortunes, even the calamities, which have been the result of our projecting our home system of _government by party_ into the distant regions of south africa. there are long proved advantages in that system of party government as existing for our own country, but it seems to have been at the root of much of the inconsistency and vacillation of our policy in south africa. as soon as a good governor (appointed by either political party) has begun to develop his methods, and to lead the dutch, and english, and natives alike to begin to believe that there is something homogeneous in the principles of british government, a general election takes place in england. a new parliament and a new government come into power, and, frequently in obedience to some popular representations at home, the actual colonial governor is recalled, and another is sent out. lord glenelg, for example, had held office as governor of the cape colony for five years,--up to 1846. his policy had been, it is said, conciliatory and wise. but immediately on a change of party in the government at home, he was recalled, and sir harry smith superseded him, a recklessly aggressive person. it was only by great pains and trouble that the succeeding governor, sir george cathcart, a wiser man, brought about a settlement of the confusion and disputes arising from sir harry smith's aggressive and violent methods. and so it has gone on, through all the years. allusion having been made above to the assumption of the protectorate of basutoland by great britain, it will not be without interest to notice here the circumstances and the motives which led to that act. it will be seen that there was no aggressiveness nor desire of conquest in this case; but that the protection asked was but too tardily granted on the pathetic and reiterated prayer of the natives suffering from the aggressions of the transvaal. the following is from the biography of adolphe mabille, a devoted missionary of the _société des missions evangéliques_ of paris, who worked with great success in basutoland. his life is written by mr. dieterlen (a name well known and highly esteemed in france), and the book has a preface by the famous missionary, mr. f. coillard.[6] "the boers had long been keeping up an aggressive war against the basutos (1864 to 1869), so much so that mr. mabille's missionary work was for a time almost destroyed. the boers thought they saw in the missionaries' work the secret of the steady resistance of the basutos, and of the moral force which prevented them laying down their arms. they exacted that mr. mabille should leave the country at once, which theoretically, they said, belonged to them. "this good missionary and his friends were subjected to long trials during this hostility of the boers. moshesh, the chief of the basutos, had for a long time past been asking the governor of cape colony to have him and his people placed under the direction of great britain. the reply from the cape was very long delayed. moshesh, worn out, was about to capitulate at last to the boers. lessuto (the territory of basutoland) was on the point of being absorbed by the transvaal. at the last moment, however, and not a day too soon, there came a letter from the governor of the cape announcing to moshesh that queen victoria had consented to take the basutos under her protection. it was the long-expected deliverance,--it was salvation! at this news the missionaries, with moshesh, burst into tears, and falling on their knees, gave thanks to god for this providential and almost unexpected intervention." the boers retained a large and fertile tract of lessuto, but the rest of the country, continues m. dieterlen, "remained under the protectorate of a people who, provided peace is maintained, and their commerce is not interfered with, know how to work for the right development of the native people whose lands they annex." mr. dieterlen introduces into his narrative the following remarks,--which are interesting as coming, not from an englishman, but from a frenchman,--and one who has had close personal experience of the matters of which he speaks:-"stayers at home, as we frenchmen are, forming our opinions from newspapers whose editors know no more than ourselves what goes on in foreign countries, we too willingly see in the british nation an egotistical and rapacious people, thinking of nothing but the extension of their commerce and the prosperity of their industry. we are apt to pretend that their philanthropic enterprises and religious works are a mere hypocrisy. courage is absolutely needed in order to affirm, at the risk of exciting the indignation of our _soi-disant_ patriots, that although england knows perfectly well how to take care of her commercial interests in her colonies, she knows equally well how to pre-occupy and occupy herself with the moral interests of the people whom she places by agreement or by force under the sceptre of her queen. those who have seen and who know, have the duty of saying to those who have not seen, and who cannot, or who do not desire to see, and who do not know, that these two currents flowing from the british nation,--the one commercial and the other philanthropic,--are equally active amongst the uncivilized nations of africa, and that if one wishes to find colonies in which exist real and complete liberty of conscience, where the education and moralisation of the natives are the object of serious concern, drawing largely upon the budget of the metropolis, it is always and above all in english possessions that you must look for them. "under the domination of the boers, lessuto would have been devoted to destruction, to ignorance, and to semi-slavery. under the english régime reign security and progress. lessuto became a territory reserved solely for its native proprietors, the sale of strong liquors was prohibited, and the schools received generous subvention. catholics, protestants, anglicans, french and english missionaries, could then enjoy the most absolute liberty in order to spread, each one in his own manner, and in the measure in which he possessed it, evangelic truth. "it is for this reason that the french missionaries feared to see the basutos fall under the boers' yoke, and that they hailed with joy the intervention of the english government in their field of work, hoping and expecting for the missionary work the happiest fruits. their hope has not been deceived by the results." the clash of opposing principles, and even the violence of party feeling continued to send its echoes to the far regions of south africa, confusing the minds of the various populations there, and preventing any real coherence and continuity in our government of that great colony. a good and successful administrator has sometimes been withdrawn to be superseded by another, equally well-intentioned, perhaps, but whose policy was on wholly different lines, thus undoing the work of his predecessor. this has introduced not only confusion, but sometimes an appearance of real injustice into our management of the colony. in all this chequered history, the interests of the native races have been too often postponed to those of the ruling races. this was certainly the case in connexion with mr. gladstone's well-intentioned act in giving back to the transvaal its independent government. it has been an anxious question for many among us whether this source of vacillation, with its attendant misfortunes, is to continue in the future. * * * * * the early history of the south african colony has become, by this time, pretty well known by means of the numberless books lately written on the subject. i will only briefly recapitulate here a few of the principal facts, these being, in part, derived from the annals and reports of the aborigines protection society, which may be considered impartial, seeing that that society has had a keen eye at all times for the faults of british colonists and the british government, while constrained, as a truthful recorder, to publish the offences of other peoples and governments. i have also constantly referred to parliamentary papers, and the words of accredited historians and travellers. the first attempt at a regular settlement by the dutch at the cape was made by jan van riebeck, in 1652, for the convenience of the trading vessels of the netherlands east india company, passing from europe to asia. almost from the first these colonists were involved in quarrels with the natives, which furnished excuse for appropriating their lands and making slaves of them. the intruders stole the natives' cattle, and the natives' efforts to recover their property were denounced by van riebeck as "a matter most displeasing to the almighty, when committed by such as they." apologising to his employers in holland for his show of kindness to one group of natives, van riebeck wrote: "this we only did to make them less shy, so as to find hereafter a better opportunity to seize them--1,100 or 1,200 in number, and about 600 cattle, the best in the whole country. we have every day the finest opportunities for effecting this without bloodshed, and could derive good service from the people, _in chains_, in killing seals or in labouring in the silver mines which we trust will be found here." the netherlands company frequently deprecated such acts of treachery and cruelty, and counselled moderation. their protests however were of no avail. the mischief had been done. the unhappy natives, with whom lasting friendship might have been established by fair treatment, had been converted into enemies; and the ruthless punishment inflicted on them for each futile effort to recover some of the property stolen from them, had rendered inevitable the continuance and constant extension of the strife all through the five generations of dutch rule, and furnished cogent precedent for like action afterwards,[7] after 1652, colonists of the baser sort kept arriving in cargoes, and gradually the netherlands company allowed persons not of their own nation to land and settle under severe fiscal and other restrictions. among these were a number of french huguenots, good men, driven from their homes by the revocation of the edict of nantes in 1690. then flemings, germans, poles, and others constantly swelled the ranks. all these europeans were forced to submit to the arbitrary rules of the netherlands company's agents, scarcely at all restrained from amsterdam. unofficial residents, known as burghers, came to be admitted to share in the management of affairs. it was for their benefit chiefly, that as soon as the hottentots were found to be unworkable as slaves, negroes from west africa and malays from the east indies began to be imported for the purpose. in 1772, when the settlement was a hundred and twenty years old, and had been in what was considered working order for a century, cape town and its suburbs had a population of 1,963 officials and servants of the company, 4,628 male and 3,750 female colonists, and 8,335 slaves. in these figures no account is taken of the hottentots and others employed in menial capacities, nor of the black prisoners, among whom, in 1772, a swedish traveller saw 950 men, women, and children of the bushman race, who had been captured about a hundred and fifty miles from cape town in a war brought about by encroachment on their lands.[8] the aborigines protection society endorses the following statement of sparrman (visit to the cape of good hope, 1786, vol. ii, p. 165,) who says, "the slave business, that violent outrage against the natural rights of man, which is always a crime and leads to all manner of wickedness, is exercised by the colonists with a cruelty that merits the abhorrence of everyone, though i have been told that they pique themselves upon it; and not only is the capture of the hottentots considered by them merely as a party of pleasure, but in cold blood they destroy the bands which nature has knit between husband and wife, and between parents and their children. does a colonist at any time get sight of a bushman, he takes fire immediately, and spirits up his horse and dogs, in order to hunt him with more ardour and fury than he would a wolf or any other wild beast.". "i am far from accusing all the colonists," he continues, "of these cruelties, which are too frequently committed. while some of them plumed themselves upon them, there were many who, on the contrary, held them in abomination, and feared lest the vengeance of heaven should, for all their crimes, fall upon their posterity." the inability of the amsterdam authorities to control the filibustering zeal of the colonists rendered it easy for the people at the cape to establish among themselves, in 1793, what purported to be an independent republic. one of their proclamations contained the following resolution, aimed especially at the efforts of the missionaries--most of whom were then moravians--to save the natives from utter ruin: "we will not permit any moravians to live here and instruct the hottentots; for, as there are many christians who receive no instruction, it is not proper that the hottentots should be taught; they must remain in the same state as before. hottentots born on the estate of a farmer must live there, and serve him until they are twenty-five years old, before they receive any wages. all bushmen or wild hottentots caught by us must remain slaves for life."[9] i have given these facts of more than a hundred years ago to show for how long a time the traditions of the usefulness and lawfulness of slavery had been engrained in the minds of the dutch settlers. we ought not, perhaps, to censure too severely the boer proclivities in favour of that ancient institution, nor to be surprised if it should be a work of time, accompanied with severe providential chastisement, to uproot that fixed idea from the minds of the present generation, of boer descent. the sin of enslaving their fellow-men may perhaps be reckoned, for them, among the "sins of ignorance." nevertheless, the recording angel has not failed through all these generations to mark the woes of the slaves; and the historic vengeance, which sooner or later infallibly follows a century or centuries of the violation of the divine law and of human rights, will not be postponed or averted even by a late repentance on the part of the transgressors. it is striking to note how often in history the sore judgment of oppressors has fallen (in this world), not on those who were first in the guilt, but on their successors, just as they were entering on an amended course of "ceasing to do evil and learning to do well." in 1795, cape town was formally ceded by the prince of orange to great britain, as an incident of the great war with france, for which, six million pounds sterling was paid by great britain to holland. british supremacy was formally recognized in this part of south africa by a convention signed in 1814, which was confirmed by the treaty of paris in 1815. british rule for some thirty years after 1806 was perforce despotic, but for the most part, with some exceptions, it was a benevolent despotism. "they had the difficult task of controlling a straggling white community, at first almost exclusively composed of boers, who had been too sturdy and stubborn to tolerate any effective interference by the netherlands company and other authorities in holland, and who resented both english domination and the advent of english colonists which more than doubled the white population in less than two decades." "the governors sent out from downing street had tasks imposed upon them which were beyond the powers of even the wisest and worthiest. most of the english colonists found it easier to fall in with the thoughts and habits of the boers than to uphold the purer traditions of life and conduct in the mother country, and it is not strange that many of the officials should have been in like case."[10] great britain abolished the slave trade in 1807, which prevented the further importation of slaves, and the traffic in them. the great emancipation act, by which great britain abolished slavery in all lands over which she had control, was passed in 1834. the great grievance for the burghers was this abolition of slavery by great britain. according to a parliamentary return of march, 1838, the slaves of all sorts liberated in cape colony numbered 35,750. the british parliament awarded as compensation to the slave owners throughout the british dominions a sum of £20,000,000, of which, nearly £1,500,000 fell to the share of the burghers. concerning this act of compensation there have been very divided opinions; there is not a doubt that the british government intended to deal fairly by the former slave owners, but it is stated that there was great and culpable carelessness on the part of the british agents in distributing this compensation money. it seems that many of the burghers to whom it was due never obtained it, and these considered themselves aggrieved and defrauded by the british government. on the other hand, there are persons who have continually disapproved of the principle of compensation for a wrong given up, or the loss of an advantage unrighteously purchased. it is however to be regretted, that an excuse should have been given for the boers' complaints by irregularities attributed to the british in the partition of the compensation money. it has often been asserted that the first great dutch emigration from the cape was instigated simply by love of freedom on their part, and their dislike of british government. but why did they dislike british government? there may have been minor reasons, but the one great grievance complained of by themselves, from the first, was the abolition of slavery. they desired to be free to deal with the natives in their own manner. taking with them their household belongings and as much cattle as they could collect, they went forth in search of homes in which they hoped they would be no longer controlled, and as they thought, sorely wronged by the nation which had invaded their colony. but they did not all trek; only about half, it was estimated, did so. the rest remained, finding it possible to live and prosper without slavery. they crossed the orange river, and finally trekked beyond the vaal. from 1833, cape colony, under british rule, began to be endowed with representative institutions. in 1854, the magna charta of the hottentots, as it was called, was created. it was a measure of remarkable liberality. "it conferred on all hottentots and other free persons of colour lawfully residing in the colony, the right to become burghers, and to exercise and enjoy all the privileges of burghership. it enabled them to acquire land and other property. it exempted them from any compulsory service to which other subjects of the crown were not liable, and from 'any hindrance, molestation, fine, imprisonment or other punishment' not awarded to them after trial in due course of law, 'any custom or usage to the contrary in anywise notwithstanding.' among other provisions it was stipulated that wages should no longer be paid to them in liquor or tobacco, and that, in the event of a servant having reasonable ground of complaint against his master for ill-usage, and not being able to bear the expense of a summons, one should be issued to him free of charge. by this ordinance a stop was put, as far as the law could be enforced, to the bondage, other than admitted and legalized slavery, by which through nearly two centuries the dutch farmers and others had oppressed the natives whom they had deprived of their lands."[11] the boers who had trekked resented every attempt at interference with them on the part of the cape government with a view to their acceptance of such principles of british government as are expressed above. wearied by its hopeless efforts to restore order among the emigrant farmers, the british government abandoned the task, and contented itself with the arrangement made with andries pretorius, in 1852, called the sand river convention. this convention conceded to "the emigrant farmers beyond the vaal river" "the right to manage their own affairs and to govern themselves, without any interference on the part of her majesty the queen's government." it was stipulated, however, that "no slavery is or shall be permitted or practised in the country to the north of the vaal river by the emigrant farmers." this stipulation has been made in every succeeding convention down to that of 1884. these conventions have been regularly agreed to and signed by successive boer leaders, and have been as regularly and successively violated. footnotes: [footnote 5: south africa, past and present (1899), by noble.] [footnote 6: adolphe mabille, published in paris, 1898.] [footnote 7: these and other details which follow are taken from dutch official papers, giving a succinct account of the treatment of the natives between 1649 and 1809. these papers were translated from the dutch by lieut. moodie (1838). see moodie's "_record_."] [footnote 8: thunberg. "travels in europe, africa, and asia, between 1770 and 1779."] [footnote 9: sir john barrow (travels in south africa, 1806.) vol ii. p. 165.] [footnote 10: mr. fox bourne, secretary of the aborigines protection society.] [footnote 11: parliamentary paper quoted by mr. fox bourne. "black and white," page 18.] iii. dr. livingstone's experiences in the transvaal and in surrounding native districts. letter of dr. moffat in 1877. letter of his son, rev. j. moffat, 1899. report of m. dieterlen to the committee of the missions' evangéliques of paris. the following is an extract from the "missionary travels and researches in south africa," of the venerable pioneer, david livingstone.[12] "an adverse influence with which the mission had to contend was the vicinity of the boers of the cashan mountains,[13] otherwise named 'magaliesberg.' these are not to be confounded with the cape colonists, who sometimes pass by the name. the word 'boer,' simply means 'farmer,' and is not synonymous with our word boor. indeed, to the boers generally the latter term would be quite inappropriate, for they are a sober, industrious, and most hospitable body of peasantry. those, however, who have fled from english law on various pretexts, and have been joined by english deserters, and every other variety of bad character in their distant localities, are unfortunately of a very different stamp. the great objection many of the boers had, and still have, to english law, is that it makes no distinction between black men and white. they felt aggrieved by their supposed losses in the emancipation of their hottentot slaves, and determined to erect themselves into a republic, in which they might pursue, without molestation, the 'proper treatment' of the blacks. it is almost needless to add, that the 'proper treatment' has always contained in it the essential element of slavery, namely, compulsory unpaid labour. "one section of this body, under the late mr. hendrick potgeiter, penetrated the interior as far as the cashan mountains, whence a zulu chief, named mosilikátze, had been expelled by the well known kaffir dingaan, and a glad welcome was given these boers by the bechuana tribes, who had just escaped the hard sway of that cruel chieftain. they came with the prestige of white men and deliverers; but the bechuanas soon found, as they expressed it, 'that mosilikátze was cruel to his enemies, and kind to those he conquered; but that the boers destroyed their enemies, and made slaves of their friends." the tribes who still retain the semblance of independence are forced to perform all the labour of the fields, such as manuring the land, weeding, reaping, building, making dams and canals, and at the same time to support themselves. i have myself been an eye-witness of boers coming to a village, and according to their usual custom, demanding twenty or thirty women to weed their gardens, and have seen these women proceed to the scene of unrequited toil, carrying their own food on their heads, their children on their backs, and instruments of labour on their shoulders. nor have the boers any wish to conceal the meanness of thus employing unpaid labour; on the contrary, every one of them, from mr. potgeiter and mr. gert kruger, the commandants, downwards, lauded his own humanity and justice in making such an equitable regulation. 'we make the people work for us, in consideration of allowing them to live in our country.' "i can appeal to the commandant kruger if the foregoing is not a fair and impartial statement of the views of himself and his people. i am sensible of no mental bias towards or against these boers; and during the several journeys i made to the poor enslaved tribes, i never avoided the whites, but tried to cure and did administer remedies to their sick, without money and without price. it is due to them to state that i was invariably treated with respect; but it is most unfortunate that they should have been left by their own church for so many years to deteriorate and become as degraded as the blacks, whom the stupid prejudice against colour leads them to detest. "this new species of slavery which they have adopted serves to supply the lack of field labour only. the demand for domestic servants must be met by forays on tribes which have good supplies of cattle. the portuguese can quote instances in which blacks become so degraded by the love of strong drink as actually to sell themselves; but never in any one case, within the memory of man, has a bechuana chief sold any of his people, or a bechuana man his child. hence the necessity for a foray to seize children. and those individual boers who would not engage in it for the sake of slaves, can seldom resist the twofold plea of a well-told story of an intended uprising of the devoted tribe, and the prospect of handsome pay in the division of captured cattle besides. it is difficult for a person in a civilized country to conceive that any body of men possessing the common attributes of humanity, (and these boers are by no means destitute of the better feelings of our nature,) should with one accord set out, after loading their own wives and children with caresses, and proceed to shoot down in cold blood, men and women of a different colour, it is true, but possessed of domestic feelings and affections equal to their own. i saw and conversed with children in the houses of boers who had by their own and their master's account been captured, and in several instances i traced the parents of these unfortunates, though the plan approved by the long-headed among the burghers is to take children so young that they soon forget their parents and their native language also. it was long before i could give credit to the tales of bloodshed told by native witnesses, and had i received no other testimony but theirs, i should probably have continued sceptical to this day as to the truth of the accounts; but when i found the boers themselves, some bewailing and denouncing, others glorying in the bloody scenes in which they had been themselves the actors, i was compelled to admit the validity of the testimony, and try to account for the cruel anomaly. they are all traditionally religious, tracing their descent from some of the best men (huguenots and dutch) the world ever saw. hence they claim to themselves the title of 'christians,' and all the coloured race are 'black property' or 'creatures.' they being the chosen people of god, the heathen are given to them for an inheritance, and they are the rod of divine vengeance on the heathen, as were the jews of old. "living in the midst of a native population much larger than themselves, and at fountains removed many miles from each other, they feel somewhat in the same insecure position as do the americans in the southern states. the first question put by them to strangers is respecting peace; and when they receive reports from disaffected or envious natives against any tribe, the case assumes all the appearance and proportions of a regular insurrection. severe measures then appear to the most mildly disposed among them as imperatively called for, and, however bloody the massacre that follows, no qualms of conscience ensue: it is a dire necessity for the sake of peace. indeed, the late mr. hendrick potgeiter most devoutly believed himself to be the great peace-maker of the country. "but how is it that the natives, being so vastly superior in numbers to the boers, do not rise and annihilate them? the people among whom they live are bechuanas, not kaffirs, though no one would ever learn that distinction from a boer; and history does not contain one single instance in which the bechuanas, even those of them who possess firearms, have attacked either the boers or the english. if there is such an instance, i am certain it is not generally known, either beyond or in the cape colony. they have defended themselves when attacked, as in the case of sechele, but have never engaged in offensive war with europeans. we have a very different tale to tell of the kaffirs, and the difference has always been so evident to these border boers that, ever since 'those magnificent savages,' (the kaffirs,) obtained possession of firearms, not one boer has ever attempted to settle in kaffirland, or even face them as an enemy in the field. the boers have generally manifested a marked antipathy to anything but 'long-shot' warfare, and, sidling away in their emigrations towards the more effeminate bechuanas, they have left their quarrels with the kaffirs to be settled by the english, and their wars to be paid for by english gold. "the bechuanas at kolobeng had the spectacle of various tribes enslaved before their eyes;--the bakatla, the batlo'kua, the bahúkeng, the bamosétla, and two other tribes of bechuanas, were all groaning under the oppression of unrequited labour. this would not have been felt as so great an evil, but that the young men of those tribes, anxious to obtain cattle, the only means of rising to respectability and importance among their own people, were in the habit of sallying forth, like our irish and highland reapers, to procure work in the cape colony. after labouring there three or four years, in building stone dykes and dams for the dutch farmers, they were well content if at the end of that time they could return with as many cows. on presenting one to the chief, they ranked as respectable men in the tribe ever afterwards. these volunteers were highly esteemed among the dutch, under the name of mantátees. they were paid at the rate of one shilling a day, and a large loaf of bread among six of them. numbers of them, who had formerly seen me about twelve hundred miles inland from the cape, recognised me with the loud laughter of joy when i was passing them at their work in the roggefelt and bokkefelt, within a few days of cape town. i conversed with them, and with elders of the dutch church, for whom they were working, and found that the system was thoroughly satisfactory to both parties. i do not believe that there is a boer, in the cashan or magaliesberg country, who would deny that a law was made, in consequence of this labour passing to the colony, to deprive these labourers of their hardly-earned cattle, for the very urgent reason that, "if they want to work, let them work for us, their masters," though boasting that in their case their work would not be paid. "i can never cease to be most unfeignedly thankful that i was not born in a land of slaves. no one can understand the effect of the unutterable meanness of the slave system on the minds of those who, but for the strange obliquity which prevents them from feeling the degradation of not being gentlemen enough to pay for services rendered, would be equal in virtue to ourselves." after giving his experience of eight years in sechele's country, in bechuanaland, livingstone continues:--"during that time, no winter passed without one or two of the tribes in the east country being plundered of both cattle and children by the boers. the plan pursued is the following: one or two friendly tribes are forced to accompany a party of mounted boers. when they reach the tribe to be attacked, the friendly natives are ranged in front, to form, as they say, 'a shield;' the boers then coolly fire over their heads till the devoted people flee and leave cattle, wives and children to their captors. this was done in nine cases during my residence in the interior, and on no occasion was a drop of boer's blood shed. news of these deeds spread quickly among the bechuanas, and letters were repeatedly sent by the boers to sechele, ordering him to come and surrender himself as their vassal, and stop english traders from proceeding into the country. but the discovery of lake ngami, hereafter to be described, made the traders come in five-fold greater numbers, and sechele replied, 'i was made an independent chief and placed here by god, and not by you. i was never conquered by mosilikátze, as those tribes whom you rule over; and the english are my friends; i get everything i wish from them; i cannot hinder them from going where they like.' those who are old enough to remember the threatened invasion of our own island, may understand the effect which the constant danger of a boer invasion had on the minds of the bechuanas; but no others can conceive how worrying were the messages and threats from the endless self-constituted authorities of the magaliesberg boers, and when to all this harassing annoyance was added the scarcity produced by the drought, we could not wonder at, though we felt sorry for, their indisposition to receive instruction. "i attempted to benefit the native tribes among the boers of magaliesberg by placing native teachers at different points. 'you must teach the blacks,' said mr. hendrick potgeiter, the commandant in chief, 'that they are not equal to us.' other boers told me 'i might as well teach the baboons on the rocks as the africans,' but declined the test which i proposed, namely, to examine whether they or my native attendants could read best. two of their clergymen came to baptize the children of the boers, so, supposing these good men would assist me in overcoming the repugnance of their flock to the education of the blacks, i called on them, but my visit ended in a _ruse_ practised by the boerish commandant, whereby i was led, by professions of the greatest friendship, to retire to kolobeng, while a letter passed me, by another way, to the missionaries in the south, demanding my instant recall for 'lending a cannon to their enemies.'[14] "these notices of the boers are not intended to produce a sneer at their ignorance, but to excite the compassion of their friends. "they are perpetually talking about their laws; but practically theirs is only the law of the strongest. the bechuanas could never understand the changes which took place in their commandants. 'why, one can never know who is the chief among these boers. like the bushmen, they have no king--they must be the bushmen of the english.' the idea that any tribe of men could be so senseless as not to have an hereditary chief was so absurd to these people, that in order not to appear equally stupid, i was obliged to tell them that we english were so anxious to preserve the royal blood that we had made a young lady our chief. this seemed to them a most convincing proof of our sound sense. we shall see farther on the confidence my account of our queen inspired. the boers, encouraged by the accession of mr. pretorius, determined at last to put a stop to english traders going past kolobeng, by dispersing the tribe of bechuanas, and expelling all the missionaries. sir george cathcart proclaimed the independence of the boers. a treaty was entered into with them; an article for the free passage of englishmen to the country beyond, and also another, that _no slavery should be allowed in the independent territory_, were duly inserted, as expressive of the views of her majesty's government at home. 'but what about the missionaries?' enquired the boers. '_you may do as you please with them_,' is said to have been the answer of the commissioner. this remark, if uttered at all, was probably made in joke: designing men, however, circulated it, and caused the general belief in its accuracy which now prevails all over the country, and doubtless led to the destruction of three mission stations immediately after. the boers, 400 in number, were sent by the late mr. pretorius to attack the bechuanas in 1852. boasting that the english had given up all the blacks into their power, and had agreed to aid them in their subjugation by preventing all supplies of ammunition from coming into the bechuana country, they assaulted the bechuanas, and, besides killing a considerable number of adults, carried off 200 of our school children into slavery. the natives, under sechele, defended themselves till the approach of night enabled them to flee to the mountains; and having in that defence killed a number of the enemy, the very first ever slain in this country by bechuanas, i received the credit of having taught the tribe to kill boers! my house, which had stood perfectly secure for years under the protection of the natives, was plundered in revenge. english gentlemen, who had come in the footsteps of mr. cumming to hunt in the country beyond, and had deposited large quantities of stores in the same keeping, and upwards of eighty head of cattle as relays for the return journeys, were robbed of all; and when they came back to kolobeng, found the skeletons of the guardians strewed all over the place. the books of a good library--my solace in our solitude--were not taken away, but handfuls of the leaves were torn out and scattered over the place. my stock of medicines was smashed; and all our furniture and clothing carried off and sold at public auction to pay the expenses of the foray. i do not mention these things by way of making a pitiful wail over my losses, in order to excite commiseration; for though i feel sorry for the loss of lexicons, dictionaries, &c., &c., which had been the companions of my boyhood, yet, after all, the plundering only set me entirely free for my expedition to the north, and i have never since had a moment's concern for anything i left behind. the boers resolved to shut up the interior, and i determined to open the country." * * * * * mr. a. mcarthur, of holland park, wrote on march 22nd of this year:-"when looking over some old letters a few days ago, i found one from the late venerable dr. moffat, who was one of the best friends south africa ever had. it was written in answer to a few lines i wrote him, informing him that the transvaal had been annexed by the british government. i enclose a copy of his letter." dr. moffat's letter is as follows:--july 27th, 1877. "my dear friend, "i have no words to express the pleasure the late annexation of the transvaal territory to the cape colony has afforded me. it is one of the most important measures our government could have adopted, as regards the republic as well as the aborigines. i have no hesitation in pronouncing the step as being fraught with incalculable benefits to both parties,--i.e., the settlers and the native tribes. a residence of more than half a century beyond the colonial boundary is quite sufficient to authorize one to write with confidence that lord carnarvon's measure will be the commencement of an era of blessing to southern africa. i was one of a deputation appointed by a committee to wait on sir george clarke, at bloemfontein, to prevent, if possible, his handing over the sovereignty, now the free state, to the emigrant boers. every effort failed to prevent the blunder. long experience had led many to foresee that such a course would entail on the native tribes conterminous oppression, slavery, _alias_ apprenticeship, etc. many a tale of woe could be told arising, as they express it, from the english allowing their subjects to spoil and exterminate. hitherto, the natives have been the sufferers, and might justly lay claim for compensation. with every expression of respect and esteem, i remain, yours very sincerely, robert moffat." * * * * * a letter from a son of dr. moffat may have some interest here. it is dated december 20th, 1899. the rev. john moffat, son of the famous dr. moffat, and himself for a long time resident in south africa, has sent to a friend in london a letter regarding the relations of the british and dutch races previous to the war. mr. moffat, throughout his varied experiences, has been a special friend to the natives. one of his younger sons, howard, is with a force of natives 60 miles south west of khama's town (at the time of writing, december 20th), and dr. alford moffat, another son, was medical officer to 300 volunteers occupying the mangwe pass, to prevent a boer raid into rhodesia at that point. he writes:-"1. _had steyn sat still and minded his own business_ no one would have meddled with him. had kruger confined himself strictly to self-defence, and _we_ had invaded _him_, we might have had to blame ourselves. "2. to have placed an adequate defensive force on our borders before we were sure that there was going to be war would have been accepted (perhaps justly) by the boers as a menace. we did not do it, out of respect for their susceptibilities. "3. to most people in south africa who knew the boers it was quite plain that kruger was all along playing what is colloquially known as the game of 'spoof.' he never intended to make the slightest concession. "4. take them as a whole, the boers are not pleasant people to live with, especially to those who are within their power, as the natives have found out sufficiently, and as the british have found out ever since majuba, and the retrocession of the transvaal. the wrongs of the uitlanders were only one symptom of a disease which originated at pretoria in 1881, and was steadily spreading itself all over south africa. "5. with regard to the equal rights question, it is quite true that all is not as it ought to be in the cape colony. but the condition of the native in the transvaal is 100 years behind that of our natives in the cape colony, and you may take it as a broad fact that in proportion as boer domination prevails the gravitation of the native towards slavery will be accelerated." in conclusion, mr. moffat has this to say of the "boer dream of afrikander predominance": "we, who have been living out here, have been hearing about this thing for years, but we have tried not to believe it. we felt, many of us, that the struggle had to come, but we held our peace because we did not want to be charged with fomenting race hatred." he refers to ben viljoen's manifesto of september 29th, and to president steyn's manifesto, and state secretary reitz's proclamation of october 11th, and says, "when i read these in conjunction with the history of south africa for the last 18 years, i see that the cause of peace was hopeless in such hands." * * * * * almost contemporaneously with the expression of opinion of dr. moffat (in 1877), the following report was written by m. dieterlen, to the committee of the _missions evangéliques de paris_:-"lessouto, june 28th, 1876. "gentlemen, "i must give you details of the journey which i have just made with four native evangelists; for no doubt you will wish to know why a missionary expedition, begun under the happiest auspices, and with the good wishes of so many christians, has come to grief, on account of the ill-will of certain men, and has been, from a human point of view, a humiliating failure. having placed myself at the head of the expedition, and being the only white man in the missionary group, i must bear the whole responsibility of our return, and if there is anyone to blame it is i. "from our departure from leriba, as far as the other side of pretoria, our voyage was most agreeable. we went on with energy, thinking only of our destination, the banyaïs country, making plans for our settling amongst those people, and full of happiness at the thought of our new enterprise. an excellent spirit prevailed in our little troop,--serious and gay at the same time; no regrets, no murmurings; with a presentiment, indeed, that the transvaal government might make some objection to our advance, but with the certainty that god was with us, and would over-rule all that man might try to do. we crossed the orange free state without hindrance, we passed the vaal, and continued our route towards the capital of the transvaal; we reached the first village through which we must pass--heidelberg--and encamped some distance from there. there they told us that the boers knew that we were about to pass, and if they wished to stop us, it would be there they would do it. let us take courage, therefore, we said, and be ready for everything. we unharnessed, and walked through the village in full daylight, posting our letters, etc. no one stopped us or spoke to us, and we retired to our encampment, thanking god that he had kept us through this critical moment. some days later, we approached a charming spot, within three hours of pretoria, near a clear stream, surrounded with lovely trees and flowers; we took the communion together, strengthening each other for the future. monday, at nine o'clock, we reached pretoria. we were looked at with curiosity; they read our names on the sides of my waggon, they seemed surprised, and held discussions among themselves; the field cornet himself saw us pass, they told me sometime later. but we passed through the town without opposition. "we continued our way to the north-east full of thankfulness, saying to each other that after all the government of the transvaal was not so ill-disposed towards us. our oxen continued to walk with sturdy steps; we had not yet lost one, although the cattle plague was prevalent at the time. wednesday, at four o'clock in the evening, we left the house of an english merchant, with whom we had passed a little time, and who had placed at our disposal everything which we needed. towards eight o'clock, by a splendid moonlight, i was walking in front of my waggon with asser (one of the native missionaries), seeking a suitable place where we could pass the night, when two horsemen galloped up, and drawing bridle, brusquely asked for my papers, and seeing that i had not the papers that they desired, ordered us to turn round and go back to pretoria. one of these men was the sheriff, who showed me a warrant for my arrest, and putting his hand on my shoulder, declared me to be his prisoner. this, i may say in passing, made little impression on me. we retraced our steps, always believing that when we had paid some duty exacted for our luggage and our goods, we should be allowed to go in peace. towards midnight they permitted us to unharness near a farm. the next morning these gentlemen searched all through the waggon of the native evangelists, and put any objects which they suspected aside. all this, with my waggon, must be sent back to pretoria, there to be inspected by anyone who chose. "that same day i arrived in pretoria in a cart, seated between the field cornet and the sheriff, who were much softened when they saw that i did not reply to them in the tone which they themselves adopted, and that i had not much the look of a smuggler. the secretary of the executive council exacted from me bail to the amount of £300 sterling, for which a german missionary from berlin, mr. grüneberger, had the goodness to be my guarantor. i made a deposition, saying who we were, whence we came, and where we were going, insisting that we had no merchandise in our waggon, only little objects of exchange by which we could procure food in countries where money has no value. we had no intention of establishing ourselves within the limits of the transvaal; we were going beyond the limpopo, and consequently were simple travellers, and were not legally required to take any steps in regard to the government, nor even to ask a passport. all this was written down and addressed to the executive committee, who took the matter in hand. "as they, however, accused us of being smugglers, and having somewhere a cannon, they proceeded to the examination of my waggon. they opened everything, ran their hands in everywhere, into biscuit boxes, among clothes, among candles, etc., and found neither cannon nor petroleum. the comedy of the smuggling ended, they took note of the contents of my boxes, and then attacked us from another side. they decided to treat me as a missionary. the solicitor-general said to me that the government did not care to have french missionaries going to the other side of the limpopo. i said, 'these countries do not belong to the transvaal;' to which they replied, 'do you know what our intentions are? have you not heard of the treaties which we have been able to make with the natives and with the portuguese?' there! that is the reply which they made to me. they took good care not to inscribe it in the document in which they ordered us to leave the transvaal immediately. these are things which they do not care to write, lest they should awaken the just susceptibilities of other governments, or arouse the indignation of all true christians. but there is the secret of the policy of the transvaal in regard to us missionaries; they feared us, because they know our attachment to the natives, and our devotion to their interests. "they then ordered me to retrace at once my steps, threatening confiscation of our goods and the imprisonment of our persons if we attempted to force a passage through the country. i had to pay £14 sterling for the expenses of this mock trial. they brought the four native evangelists out of the prison where they had spent two nights and a day in a very unpleasant manner; they gave me leave to take our two waggons out of the square of the hotel de ville where they had been put, together with the transvaal artillery, some pieces of ordnance, a large prussian cannon and a french mitrailleuse from berlin. "we were free, we were again united, but what a sorrowful reunion! we could hardly believe that all was ended, and that we must retrace our steps; so many hopes dissipated in a moment! and the thought of having to turn back after having arrived so near to our destination, was heart breaking. we were all rather sad, asking each other if we were merely the sport of a bad dream or if this was indeed the will of god. t resolved to make one more effort and ask an interview with the president of the transvaal, mr. burgers. it was granted to me. i went therefore to the cabinet of the president and spoke a long time with the solicitor-general, protesting energetically against the force they had used against us, and i discussed the matter also with the president himself, but without being able to obtain any reasonable reply to the objections i raised. i saw clearly that i had to do with men determined to have their own way, and putting what they chose to consider the interests of the state above those of all divine and human laws. "their parliament (raad) was sitting, and i addressed myself to two of its members whom i had seen the day before, and who had seemed annoyed at the conduct of the government towards us. i besought them for the honour of their country, to bring before their parliament a question on the subject; but they dared not consent to this, declaring that if the government were to put the matter before the representatives of the country these latter would decide in our favour, but that they could never take the initiative. "i had now exhausted all the means at my disposal. i did all i could to obtain leave to continue our journey, and only capitulated at the last extremity. i received a written order from the government telling me to leave the soil of the republic immediately. "these gentlemen had made me wait a long time, perhaps because they found it more difficult and dangerous to put down on paper orders which it was much easier to give vocally. this note was only a reproduction of the accusations they had made against us from the beginning. they declared to us that we were driven from the country because we had introduced guns, ammunition, and a great quantity of merchandise, and because we had entered the transvaal without a passport, in spite of the government itself having recently proclaimed a passport unnecessary for evangelists going through the country. in this document they systematically misrepresented and violated the right which every white man had had until then of travelling without permission. from the beginning to the end of this document it was open to criticism, which the feeblest jurist could have made; but in the transvaal, as elsewhere, might dominates right, and we have to suffer the consequences of this odious principle. "we sorrowfully retraced the route towards the vaal; this time no more joyous singing around our fire at night, no more cheerful projects, no more the hope of being the first to announce the glad evangel among pagan populations. the veldt we traversed seemed to have lost its poetry and to have become desolate. to add to our misfortunes the epidemic seized our oxen. we lost first one and then a second,--altogether eight. those which were left, tired and lean, dragged slowly and with pain the waggons which before they had drawn along with such vigour. at last we were in sight of mabolela, and arrived at our destination, sorrowful, yet not unhappy, determined not to be discouraged by this first check. and now we were again at lessouto, waiting for god to open to us a new door." footnotes: [footnote 12: the extract commences at chapter ii, page 29.] [footnote 13: near pretoria.] [footnote 14: livingstone had given to the chief, sechele, a large iron pot for cooking purposes, and the form of it excited the suspicions of the boers, who reported that it was a cannon. that pot is now in the museum, at cape town.] iv. interview with dr. james stewart, moderator (1899) of the free church of scotland. letter of mr. bellows to senator hoar, u.s.a. the rev. c. phillips. extracts from the "christian age," and from m. elisée reclus, geographer. retrocession of the transvaal. mr. gladstone's action. its effect on the transvaal leaders, and its consequences for the native subjects of great britain. the rev. dr. james stewart, of lovedale mission institute, south africa, who, in may, 1899, was elected moderator of the general assembly of the scotch free church, imparted his views with regard to the transvaal question to a representative of the _new york tribune_ on the occasion of his visit to washington in the autumn of 1899, to attend the pan-presbyterian council as a delegate from the free church of scotland. dr. stewart's title to speak on matters connected with the transvaal rests upon thirty years' residence in south africa. on the morning of his election as moderator of the general assembly the _scotsman_ coupled his name with that of dr. livingstone as the men to whom the british central africa protectorate was due. the interview was published in the _tribune_ of september 24th, 1899. dr. stewart said:-"as to the principle politically in dispute, the british government asks nothing more than this--that british subjects in the transvaal shall enjoy--i cannot say the same privileges, but a faint shadow of what every dutchman, as well as every man, white and black, in the cape colony enjoys. every dutchman in the cape colony is treated exactly as if he were an englishman; and every subject of her majesty the queen, black and white, is treated in the transvaal, and has always been, as a man of an alien and subject race. the franchise is only one of many grievances, and it is utterly a mistake to suppose that england is going to war over a question of mere franchise. let us be just, however. there are in the cape colony and out of it loyal dutchmen, loyal as the day, to the british power, which is the ruling power. they know the freedom they enjoy under it, and the folly and futility of trying to upset it. "no superfluous pity or sympathy need be wasted on president kruger or the transvaal republic. the latter (republic) is a shadow of a name, and as great a travesty and burlesque on the word as it is possible to conceive. "paul kruger is at the present moment the real troubler of south africa. if the spirit and principles which he himself and his government represent were to prevail in this struggle, it would arrest the development of the southern half of the continent. it is too late in the day by the world's clock for that type of man or government to continue. "the plain fact is this:--president kruger does not mean to give, never meant to give, and will not give anything as a concession in the shape of just and necessary rights, except what he is forced to give. he wants also to get rid of the suzerainty. that darkens and poisons his days and disturbs his nights by fearful dreams. there is no excuse for him, and, as i say, there need be no sentiment wasted on the subject. let president kruger and his supporters do what is right, and give what is barely and simply and only necessary as well as right, and the whole difficulty will pass into solution, to the relief of all concerned and the preservation of peace in south africa. if not, the blame must rest with him. "i am sorry i cannot give any information or express any views different from what i have now stated. they are the result of thirty years' residence in africa. but i would ask your readers to believe that the british government are rather being forced into war than choosing it of their own accord. i would also ask your readers to believe that sir alfred milner, the present governor of cape colony, though undoubtedly a strong man, is also one of the least aggressive, most cautious, and pacific of men; and that he has the entire confidence of the whole british population of the cape colony. i know also that when he began his rule three years ago, he did so with the expectation that by pacific measures the dutch question was capable of a happier and better solution than that in which the situation finds it to-day. the question and trouble to-day is, briefly, whether the british government is able to give protection and secure reasonable rights for its subjects abroad." * * * * * the following was addressed by mr. john bellows of gloucester, to senator hoar, united states, america, and was published in the _new york tribune_, feb. 22nd, 1900. mr. bellows, on seeing the publication of his letter, wrote the following postscript, to senator hoar:-"as the foregoing letter was headed by the editor of the _new york tribune_, 'a quaker on the war,' i would say, to prevent misunderstanding, that i speak for myself only, and not for the society of friends, although i entirely believe in its teaching, that if we love all men we can under no circumstances go to war. there is, however, a spurious advocacy of peace, which is based, not upon love to men so much as upon enmity to our own government, and which levels against it untrue charges of having caused the transvaal war. it was to show the erroneousness of these charges that i wrote this letter." the following is the text of the letter:-"dear friend, i am glad to receive thy letter, as it gives me the opportunity of pointing out a misconception into which thou hast fallen in reference to the transvaal and its position with respect to the present war. "thou sayest: 'i am myself a great lover of england; but i do not like to see the two countries joining hands for warlike purposes, and especially to crush out the freedom of small and weak nations.' "to this i willingly assent. i am certain that war is in all circumstances opposed to that sympathy all men owe one to another, and to that greater source of love and sympathy in which 'we live and move and have our being.' where this bond has been broken, we long for its restoration; but it cannot but tend to retard this restoration, to impute to one or other of the parties concerned motives that are entirely foreign to its action. peace, to be lasting, must stand on a foundation of truth; and there is no truth whatever in the idea that the english government provoked the present war, or that it intended, at any time during the negotiations that preceded the war, an attack on the independence either of the transvaal or of the orange free state. it is true that president kruger has for many years carefully propagated the fear of such an attempt among the dutch in south africa, as a means of separating boers and englishmen into two camps, and as an incentive to their preparing the colossal armament that has now been brought into play, not to keep the english out of the transvaal, but to realise what is called the afrikander programme of a dutch domination over the whole of south africa. thus, he a short time ago imported from europe 149,000 rifles--nearly five times as many as the whole military population of the transvaal--clearly with a view to arming the cape dutch in case of the general rising he hoped for. the jameson raid gave him exactly the grievance he wanted--to persuade these cape dutch that england sought to crush the transvaal. "an examination of the 'blue book,' which contains the whole of the correspondence immediately preceding the war, will at once show the patient efforts put forth by the london cabinet to maintain peace. there are no irritating words used, and the last despatch of importance before the outbreak of hostilities, dealing with the insinuations just alluded to, is not only most courteous and conciliatory in tone, but it states that the queen's government will give the most solemn guarantees against any attack upon the independence of the transvaal either by great britain or the colonies, or by any foreign power. i am absolutely certain that no american reading that despatch would say that president kruger was justified in seizing the netherlands railway line within one week after he had received it, and cutting the telegraph wires, to prepare for the invasion of british territory, in which act of violence lay his last and only hope of forcing england to fight; his last and desperate chance of setting up a racial domination instead of the freedom and equality of the two races that prevail in the cape and natal, and that did prevail in the orange free state. "the cause of the dispute was this: in 1884 a convention was agreed on between great britain and the transvaal, acknowledging the independence of the transvaal, subject to three conditions: that the boers should not make treaties with foreign powers without the consent of the paramount power in south africa, i.e., england; that they should not make slaves of the native tribes; and that they should guarantee equal treatment for all the white inhabitants of the country as respects taxation. as the whole war has risen out of kruger's persistent refusal to keep his promises, both verbal and in writing, that he would observe this condition, i append the clause giving rise to the contention:-"article xiv. (1884 convention).--'all persons other than natives conforming themselves to the laws of the south african republic will not be subject in respect to their persons or property or in respect of their commerce and industry to any taxes, whether general or local, other than those which are or may be imposed upon citizens of the said republic. "the mines brought so large a population to johannesburg that it at last outnumbered by very far the entire boer burghers in the state. kruger, seeing that the inevitable effect of such an increase must be the same amalgamation of the new and old populations which was going on in natal and cape colony, and to a smaller extent in the orange free state, unless artificial barriers could be devised to keep the races apart, at once set to to scheme modes of taxation that should evade article xiv. of the convention, throwing the entire burden on the uitlanders, and letting the boers, who were nearly all farmers, escape scot free. farmers, for example, use no dynamite, miners do; and president kruger gave a monopoly of its supply to a german, non-resident in the country, who taxed the miners for this article alone $2,600,000 a year beyond the highest price it could otherwise have been bought for. this was his own act, the volksraad not being consulted. besides the high price, the quality of the explosive was bad, often causing accident or death. when it did cause accident or death, the miners were prosecuted by the government, from whose agent they were compelled to buy it, and fined for having used it! "at the time the convention was signed, in 1884, the franchise was obtainable after one year's residence. president kruger determined to serve the uitlanders, however, as george iii.'s government served the american colonists, that is, tax them while refusing them representation in the control of the taxes. he went on at one and the same time increasing their burdens monstrously, while he prolonged the period of residence that qualified for a vote from one year to five, and so on, till he made it fourteen years--or fourteen times as long as when the convention was signed. nor was this all. he reserved the right personally to veto any uitlander being placed on the register even after the fourteen years if he thought he was for any reason objectionable. that is, the majority of the taxpayers were disfranchised for ever! these uitlanders had bought and paid for 60 per cent. of all the property in the transvaal, and 90 per cent. of the taxes were levied from them; an amount equal to giving every boer in the country $200 a year of plunder. "is a country that is so governed justly to be called a 'republic?' "but even the boers themselves have been adroitly edged out of power by paul kruger. the grondwet, or constitution, provided that to prevent abuses in legislation, no new law should be passed until the bill for it had been published three months in advance. to evade this, kruger passed all kinds of measures as amendments to existing laws; which, as he explained, not being new laws, required no notification! finally, however, he got the volksraad to rescind this article of the grondwet; and now, as for some time past, any law of any sort can be passed by a small clique of kruger's in secret session of the raad _without notice of any sort, and without the knowledge or assent of the people_. the boers have no more voice in such legislation than if they were chinese. the transvaal is only a republic in the same sense that a nutshell is a nut, or a fossil oyster shell is an oyster. "all that the british government has ever contended for with president kruger has been the fair and honourable observance of his engagement in respect of equal rights in article xiv. of the 1884 convention. this he has persistently and doggedly refused, while he has been using the millions of money he has wrung from the uitlanders to purchase the material for the war he has been long years preparing on such a colossal scale to drive the english out of those colonies in which they have given absolute equality to all. it is this very equality which has upset his calculations, by its leaving too few malcontents among the dutch population to make any general rising of them possible in natal or the cape, on which rising kruger staked his hope of success in the struggle. as for the transvaal boers, the only part they have in the war is to fight for their independence, which was never threatened until they invaded british territory, and thus compelled the queen's government to defend it. "the only alternative left to england to refuse fighting would have been the ground that all war is wrong; but as neither england nor any other nation has ever taken this christian ground, there was in reality no alternative. is it fair to stigmatise england as endeavouring to crush two small and weak nations because they have been so small in wisdom and weak in common sense as to become the tools of the daring and crafty autocrat who has decoyed both friend and foe into this war?--i am, with high esteem, thy friend,--john bellows." it does not come within the scope of this treatise to deal with the case of the uitlanders, but i have given the foregoing, because it is a clear and concise statement of that case, and because it expresses the strong conviction that i and many others have had from the first, that the worst enemy the boers have is their own government. a government could scarcely be found less amenable to the principles of all just law, which exists alike for rulers and ruled. these principles have been violated in the most reckless manner by president kruger and his immediate supporters. the boers are suffering now, and paying with their life-blood for the sins of their government. pity and sympathy for them, (more especially for those among them who undoubtedly possess higher qualities than mere military prowess and physical courage,) are consistent with the strongest condemnation of the duplicity and lawlessness of their government. * * * * * the rev. charles phillips, who has been eleven years in south africa, has given his opinion on the native question. it was part of the constitution of the transvaal that no equality in church or state should be permitted between whites and blacks. in cape colony, on the contrary, the constitution insisted that there should be no difference in consequence of colour. mr. phillips enumerates the oppressive conditions under which the natives live in the transvaal. they may not walk on the sidepaths, or trade even as small hucksters, or hold land. until two years ago there was no marriage law for the blacks, and that which was then passed was so bad--a £3 fee being demanded for every marriage, with many other difficulties placed in the way of marriage--that the missionaries endeavoured to procure its abolition, and to return to the old state of things. no help is given towards the education of native children, though the natives pay 3 per cent. of the revenue, the boers paying 7-1/2, and the uitlanders 89-1/2. the natives have, therefore, actually been helping to educate the boer children. "in 1896," says mr. phillips, "only £650 was granted to the schools of those who paid nine-tenths of the revenue, £63,000 being spent upon the boer schools. in other words, the uitlander child gets 1s. 10d., the boer child £8 6s. 1d. the uitlander pays £7 per head for the education of every boer child, and he has to provide in addition for the education of his own children." * * * * * the following extract is from a more general point of view, but one which it is unphilosophical to overlook. the _christian age_ reproduces a communication from an american gentleman residing in the transvaal to the new york _independent_. "the boers," mr. dunn says, "are, as a race--with, of course, individual exceptions--an extraordinary instance of an arrested civilisation, the date of stoppage being somewhere about the conclusion of the seventeenth century. but they have not even stood still at that point. they have distinctly and dangerously degenerated even from the general standard of civilisation existing when jan van riebeck hoisted the flag of the dutch east india company at cape point. the great cardinal fact in connection with the uitlander population is that, owing to their numbers and activity, they have brought in their train an influx of new wealth into the transvaal of truly colossal dimensions. thus, to sum up the distinctive and divergent characteristics of the two classes into which the population of the south african republic is divided--the boers, or old population, are conservative, ignorant, stagnant, and a minority; the uitlanders, or new population, are progressive, full of enterprise, energy and work, and constitute a large majority of the total number of inhabitants. "it has so happened, therefore, that the boers, as the ruling and dominant class, have hopelessly failed to master or comprehend the new conditions with which they have been called upon to deal. they have not, as a body, shown either capacity or desire to treat the new developments with even a remote appreciation of their inherent value and inevitable trend. the boer has simply set his back against the floodgates, apparently oblivious or indifferent to the fact that the hugely accumulating forces behind must one day burst every barrier he may choose to set up. that is the whole transvaal situation in a sentence. "it is necessary to point out, further, that this blind and dogged determination on the part of the boers to 'stop the clock' affects not merely the transvaal; it is vitally and perniciously affecting the whole of south africa. but for the obstructiveness and obscurantism of the transvaal boers, the rate of progress and development which would characterise the whole south african continent would be unparalleled in the history of any other country. the reactionary policy of the transvaal is the one spoke in the wheel. it must therefore be removed in the name of humanity and civilisation." * * * * * m. elisée reclus, the great geographer, an able and admittedly impartial historian, wrote some years ago in his "africa," vol. 4, page 215:-"the patriotic boers of south africa still dream of the day when the two republics of the orange and the transvaal, at first connected by a common customs union, will be consolidated in a single 'african holland,' possibly even in a broader confederacy, comprising all the afrikanders from the cape of good hope to the zambesi. the boer families, grouped in every town throughout south africa, form, collectively, a single nationality, despite the accident of political frontiers. the question of the future union has already been frequently discussed by the delegates of the two conterminous republics. but, unless these visions can be realized during the present generation, they are foredoomed to failure. owing to the unprogressive character of the purely boer communities and to the rapid expansion of the english-speaking peoples by natural increase, by direct immigration, and by the assimilation of the boers themselves, the future 'south african dominion' can, in any case, never be an 'african holland.' whenever the present political divisions are merged in one state, that state must sooner or later constitute an 'african england,' whether consolidated under the suzerainty of great britain or on the basis of absolute political autonomy. but the internal elements of disorder and danger are too multifarious to allow the european inhabitants of austral africa for many generations to dispense with the protection of the english sceptre. "possessing for two centuries no book except the bible, the south african dutch communities are fond of comparing their lot with that of the 'chosen people.' going forth, like the jews, in search of a 'promised land,' they never for a moment doubted that the native populations were specially created for their benefit. they looked on them as mere 'canaanites, amorites, and jebusites,' doomed beforehand to slavery or death. "they turned the land into a solitude, breaking all political organization of the natives, destroying all ties of a common national feeling, and tolerating them only in the capacity of 'apprentices,' another name for slaves. "in general, the boers despise everything that does not contribute directly to the material prosperity of the family group. despite their numerous treks, they have contributed next to nothing to the scientific exploration of the land. "of all the white intruders, the dutch afrikanders show themselves, as a rule, most hostile to their own kinsmen, the netherlanders of the mother country. at a distance the two races have a certain fellow-feeling for each other, as fully attested by contemporary literature; but, when brought close together, the memory of their common origin gives place to a strange sentiment of aversion. the boer is extremely sensitive, hence he is irritated at the civilized hollanders, who smile at his rude african customs, and who reply, with apparent ostentation, in a pure language to the corrupt jargon spoken by the peasantry on the banks of the vaal or limpopo." no impartial student of recent south african history can fail, i think, to see that the results of mr. gladstone's policy in the retrocession of the transvaal have been unhappy, however good the impulse which prompted his action. to his supporters at home, and to many of his admirers throughout europe, his action stood for pure magnanimity, and seemed a sort of prophetic instalment of the christian spirit which, they hoped, would pervade international politics in the coming age. to the transvaal leaders it presented a wholly different aspect. it meant to them weakness, and an acknowledgment of defeat. "now let us go on," they felt, "and press towards our goal, i.e., the expulsion of the british from south africa." the attitude and conduct of the transvaal delegates who came to london in 1883, and of their chiefs and supporters, throws much light on this effect produced by the act of mr. gladstone. there can be no doubt that the desire to supplant british by dutch supremacy has existed for a long time. president kruger puts back the origin of the opposition of the two races to a very distant date. in 1881, he said, "in the cession of the cape of good hope by the king of holland to england lies the root out of which subsequent events and our present struggle have grown." the dutch believe themselves,--and not without reason,--capable of great things, they were moved by an ambition to seize the power which they believed,--and the retrocession fostered that belief,--was falling from england's feeble and vacillating grasp. "long before the present trouble" says a member of the british parliament well acquainted with south african affairs, "i visited every town in south africa of any importance, and was brought into close contact with every class of the population; wherever one went, one heard this ambition voiced, either advocated or deprecated, but never denied. it dates back some forty or fifty years."[15] the first reference to it is in a despatch of governor sir george grey, in 1858; and it is to be found more definitely in the speeches of president burgers in the transvaal raad in 1877 before the annexation, and in his _apologia_ published after the annexation. the movement continued under the administration of sir bartle frere, who wrote in a despatch (published in blue book) in 1879, "the anti-english opposition are sedulously courting the loyal dutch party (a great majority of the cape dutch) in order to swell the already considerable minority who are disloyal to the english crown here and in the transvaal." mr. theodore schreiner, the brother of the cape premier, in a letter to the "cape times," november, 1899, described a conversation he had some seventeen years ago with mr. reitz, then a judge, afterwards president of the orange free state, and now state secretary of the transvaal, in which mr. reitz admitted that it was his object to overthrow the british power and expel the british flag from south africa. mr. schreiner adds; "during the seventeen years that have elapsed i have watched the propaganda for the overthrow of british power in south africa being ceaselessly spread by every possible means, the press, the pulpit, the platform, the schools, the colleges, the legislature; and it has culminated in the present war, of which mr. reitz and his co-workers are the origin and the cause." the retrocession of the transvaal (1881) gave a strong impulse to this movement, and encouraged president kruger in his persistent efforts since that date to foster it. a friend of the late general joubert,--in a letter which i have read,--wrote of mr. kruger as "the man who, for more than twenty years past, has persistently laboured to drive in the wedge between the two races. it has been his deliberate policy throughout." i always wish that i could separate the memory of that truly great man, mr. gladstone, from this act of his administration. few people cherish his memory with more affectionate admiration than i do. independently of his great intellect, his eloquence, and his fidelity in following to its last consequences a conviction which had taken possession of him, i revered him because he seemed like king saul, to stand a head and shoulders above all his fellows,--not like king saul in physical, but in moral stature. pure, honourable and strong in character and principles, a sincere christian, he attracted and deserved the affection and loyalty of all to whom purity and honour are dear. i may add that i may speak of him, in a measure also as a personal friend of our family. i have memories of delightful intercourse with him at oxford, when he represented that constituency, and later, in other places and at other times. i recall, however, an occasion in which a chill of astonishment and regret fell upon me and my husband (politically one of his supporters), in hearing a pronouncement from him on a subject, which to us was vital, and had been pressing heavily on our hearts. i allude to a great speech which mr. gladstone made in liverpool during the last period of the civil war in america, the abolitionist war. our friend spoke with his accustomed fiery eloquence wholly in favour of the spirit and aims of the combatants of the southern states, speaking of their struggle as one on behalf of liberty and independence, and wishing them success. not one word to indicate that the question which, like burning lava in the heart of a volcano, was causing that terrible upheaval in america, had found any place in that great man's mind, or had even "cast its shadow before" in his thoughts. it appeared as though he had not even taken in the fact of the existence of those four millions of slaves, the uneasy clanking of whose chains had long foreboded the approach of the avenging hand of the deliverer. this obscured perception of the question was that of a great part, if not of the majority, of the press of that day, and of most persons of the "privileged" classes; but that _he_, a trusted leader of so many, should be suffering from such an imperfection of mental vision, was to us an astonishment and sorrow. as we left that crowded hall, my companion and i, we looked at each other in silent amazement, and for a long time we found no words. as i look back now, there seems in this incident some explanation of mr. gladstone's total oblivion of the interests of our loyal native subjects of the transvaal at the time when he handed them over to masters whose policy towards them was well known. these poor natives had appealed to the british government, had trusted it, and were deceived by it. i recollect that mr. gladstone himself confessed, with much humility it seemed to us, in a pamphlet written many years after the american war, that it "had been his misfortune" on several occasions "not to have perceived the reality and importance of a question _until it was at the door_." this was very true. his noble enthusiasm for some good and vital cause so engrossed him at times that the humble knocking at the door of some other, perhaps equally vital question, was not heard by him. the knocking necessarily became louder and louder, till at last the door was opened; but then it may have been too late for him to take the part in it which should have been his. footnote: [footnote 15: speech of mr. drage, m.p., at derby, december, 1899.] v. visit of transvaal delegates to england. the lord mayor's refusal to receive them at the mansion house. dr. dale's letter to mr. gladstone. mr. mackenzie in england. meetings and resolutions on transvaal matters. manifesto of boer delegates. speeches of w.e. forster, lord shaftesbury, sir fowell buxton, and others. the london convention (1884). in 1883, two years after the retrocession of the transvaal, the boers, encouraged by the hesitating policy of the british government, sent a deputation to london of a few of their most astute statesmen, to put fresh claims before mr. gladstone, and lord derby, then colonial minister. they did not ask the repeal of the stipulations of the convention of 1881--that was hardly necessary, as these stipulations had neither been observed by them nor enforced by our government, but what they desired and asked was the complete re-establishment of the republic, freed from any conditions of british suzerainty. this would have given them a free hand in dealing with the natives, a power which those who knew them best were the least willing to concede. sir r.n. fowler was at that time lord mayor of london. according to the custom when any distinguished foreigners visit our capital, of giving them a reception at the mansion house, these transvaal delegates were presented for that honour. but the door of the mansion house was closed to them, and by a quaker lord mayor, renowned for his hospitality! the explanation of this unusual act is given in the biography of sir r. fowler, written by j.s. flynn, (page 260.) the following extract from that biography was sent to the _friend_, the organ of the society of friends, in november, 1899, by dr. hodgkin, himself a quaker, whose name is known in the literary world:--"the scene of sir r. fowler's travels in 1881 was south africa, where he went chiefly for the purpose of ascertaining how he could best serve the interests of the native inhabitants. he left no stone unturned in his search for information--visiting sir hercules robinson, the governor of the cape, sir theophilus shepstone, sir evelyn wood, colonel mitchell, bishops colenso and macrorie, the zulu king cetewayo, the principal statesmen, the military, the newspaper editors, the workers at the diamond-fields, and many others. the result of his inquiries was to confirm his belief of the charges which were made against the transvaal boers of wronging and oppressing the blacks. "it was the opinion of many philanthropists that the only way to insure good government in the transvaal--justice to the natives, the suppression of slavery, the security of neighbouring tribes--was by england's insisting on the boer's observance of the treaty which had been made to this effect, and the delimitation of the boundary of their territory in order to prevent aggression. with this object in view meetings were held in the city, petitions presented by members of parliament, resolutions moved in the house; and when at last it was discovered that mr. gladstone's government was unwilling to fulfil its pledges in reference to south africa, and that in consequence the native inhabitants would not receive the support they had been led to expect, considerable indignation was felt amongst the friends of the aborigines. the demand which they made seems to have been moderate. the transvaal, which before the war, had been reckoned, for its protection, a portion of the british dominions, was now made simply a state under british suzerainty, with a debt to england of about a quarter of a million (in lieu of the english outlay during the three years of its annexation), and a covenant for the protection of the 800,000 natives in the state, and the zulu, bechuana, and swazi tribes upon its borders. the english sympathisers with these natives simply asked that the covenant should be adhered to. there was little chance of the debt being paid, and that they were willing to forego; but they maintained that honour and humanity demanded that the boers should not be allowed to treat their agreement with us as so much waste paper. "the prime minister and the secretary of state for the colonies received the transvaal delegates graciously, but the doors of the mansion house were shut against them. its occupant at that time would neither receive them into his house nor bid them god-speed. he had made a careful study of the south african question, and he felt no doubt that this deputation represented a body of european settlers who were depriving the natives of their land, slaying their men, and enslaving their women and children. he desired to extend the hospitality of the mansion house to visitors from all countries, and to all creeds and political parties; but the line must be drawn somewhere, and he would draw it at the boers. the boldness of his action on this occasion startled some even of his friends. he was, of course, attacked by that portion of the press which supported the government. on the other hand, he had numerous sympathisers. approving letters and telegrams came from many quarters, one telegram coming from the 'loyalists of kimberley' with 'hearty congratulations.' as for his opponents, he was not in the least moved by anything they said. he held it to be impossible for any respectable person who knew the boers to support them. this was no doubt strong language, but it was not stronger than that of moffat and livingstone; not a whit stronger either than that used by w.e. forster, who had been a member of the gladstonian government." dr. hodgkin prefaced this extract by the following lines, addressed to the editor of the _friend_: "dear friend,--in re-perusing a few days ago the life of my late brother-in-law, sir r.n. fowler, i came upon the enclosed passage, which i think worthy of our consideration at the present time. of late years the disputes between our government and the african republic have turned so entirely on questions connected with the status of the settlers in and around johannesburg, that we may easily forget the old subjects of dispute which existed for a generation before it was known that there were any workable goldfields in south africa, and before the word "uitlander" had been mentioned amongst us. i must confess that for my part i had forgotten this incident of sir r.n. fowler's mayoralty, and i think it may interest some of your readers to be reminded of it at the present time. i am, thine truly,--thomas hodgkin. barmoor, northumberland." * * * * * the late dr. dale, of birmingham, was one of those whose minds were painfully exercised on the matter of the abandonment of the natives of the transvaal to the boers. an extract from his life was sent in february this year to the _spectator_, with the following preface:-"sir,--i have been greatly impressed by the justice of much that has been said in the _spectator_ on the fact that the present war is a retribution for our indifference and apathy in 1881. we failed in our duty then. we have taken it up now, but at what a cost! in reading lately the life of dr. dale, of birmingham, i was struck by his remarks (pp. 438 and 439) on the convention of pretoria. these remarks have such a bearing on the present situation that i beg you will allow me to quote them:"-"in relation to south african affairs he (dr. dale) felt silence to be impossible. he had welcomed the policy initiated by the convention of pretoria (1881) conceding independence to the transvaal, but imposing on the imperial government responsibility for the protection of native races within and beyond the frontiers. in correspondence with members of the house of commons and in more than one public utterance, he expressed his satisfaction that the freedom of the boers did not involve the slavery of the natives. at first the outlook was hopeful, but the boers soon began to chafe against the restrictions to which they were subjected.... the rev. john mackenzie brought a lamentable record of outrage and cruelty.... dr. dale particularly urged that the government should insist on carrying out the 18th article of the convention of pretoria. 'the policy of the government seemed to me both righteous and expedient, singularly courageous and singularly christian. but that policy included two distinct elements. it restored to the boers internal independence, it reserved to the british government powers for the protection of native races on the transvaal frontier. it is not unreasonable for those who in the face of great obloquy supported the government in recognising the independence of the transvaal, to ask that it should also use its treaty powers, and use them effectively for the protection of the natives.' to this statement the _pall mall_ (john morley) replied that the suzerainty over the transvaal maintained by us was a 'shadowy term,' and that those who demanded that our reserved rights should be enforced were bound to face the question whether they were willing to fight to enforce them. was dr. dale ready to run the risk of a fresh war in south africa? dr. dale replied, should the british government and british people regard with indifference the outrages of the boers against tribes that we had undertaken to protect?... 'if the government of the republic cannot prevent such crimes as are declared to have been committed in the bechuana country, and if we are indifferent to them, we shall have the south african tribes in a blaze again before many years are over, and for the safety of our colonists we shall be compelled to interfere.' in the ensuing session the ministerial policy was challenged in both houses of parliament, and in the commons mr. forster indicted the government for its impotence to hold the transvaal republic to its engagements. dr. dale wrote a long letter to mr. gladstone:--'if it had been said that power to protect the natives should be taken but not used, it is at least possible that a section of the party might have declined to approve the ministerial policy.... the one point to which i venture to direct attention is the contrast, as it appears to me, between the declaration of ministers in '81, in relation to the native races generally, and the position which has been taken in the present debate.' mr. gladstone's reply was courteous, but not reassuring." * * * * * mr. mackenzie, british commissioner for bechuanaland, came to england in 1882. in the following year the delegates from the transvaal came to london, and in 1884 the convention was signed, which was called the "london convention." these years included events of great interest. mr. mackenzie wrote:--"on my way to england i met a friend who had just landed in south africa from england. he warned me 'if you say a good word for south africa, mr. mackenzie, you will get yourself insulted. they will not hear a word on its behalf in england; they are so disgusted with the mess that has been made.' 'they had good reason to be disgusted, but i want all the same to tell them a number of things about the true condition of the country.' 'they will not listen,' my friend declared, 'they will only swear at you.' this was not very encouraging, but it was not far from the truth as to the public feeling at that time. being in the----counties of england i was offered an introduction to the editor of a well-known newspaper, who was also a pungent writer on social questions under a _nom de plume_ which had got to be so well known as no longer to serve the purpose of the writer's concealment of identity. 'you come from south africa, do you,' said the great man; 'a place where we have had much trouble, but mean to have no more.' 'trouble, however,' i answered, 'is inseparable from empire. whoever governs south africa must meet with some trouble and difficulty, although not much when honestly faced.' 'i assure you,' he broke in, 'we are not going to try it again after the one fashion or the other. we are out of it, and we mean to remain so.' 'you astonish me,' i answered; 'what about the convention recently signed at pretoria (1881)? what about the speeches still more recently made in this country in support of it?' 'as to the convention, i know we signed something; people often do when they are getting out of a nasty business. we never meant to keep it, nor shall we.' i believe i whistled a low whistle just to let off the steam, and then replied calmly, 'will you allow me to say that by your own showing you are a bad lot, a very bad lot, as politicians.' 'that may be, but it does not alter the fact, which is as i state.' 'well, i am an outsider, but i assure you that the english people, should they ever know the facts, will agree with me in saying that you are a bad lot. such doctrines in commerce would ruin us in a day. you know that.' 'the people are with us. they are disgusted and heart-sore with the whole business.' 'i grant you that such is their frame of mind, but i think their attitude will be different when they come to consider the facts, and face the responsibilities of our position in south africa. the only difficulty with me is to communicate the truth to the public mind.' i was much impressed by this interview. did this influential editor represent a large number of english people? were they in their own minds out of south africa, and resolved never to return? ... 'i do not know what you think, mr. mackenzie, but we are all saying here that mr. gladstone made a great mistake in not recalling sir bartle frere at once. in fact, we are of opinion that frere should have been tried and hanged.' the speaker was a fine specimen of an englishman, tall, with a good head, intelligent and able as well as strong in speech. he was a large manufacturer, and a local magnate. his wife was little and gentle, and yet quite fearless of her grim-looking lord. she begged that i would always make a deduction when her husband referred to south africa. he could never keep his temper on that subject, my host abruptly demanded, 'but don't you think that frere should have been hanged?' 'my dear, you will frighten mr. mackenzie with your vehemence, and you know you do not mean it a bit.' 'mean it! isn't it what everybody is saying here? at any rate i have given mr. mackenzie a text, and he must now give me his discourse.' i then proceeded to sketch out the work which sir bartle frere had had before him, its fatal element of haste, with its calamitous failures in no way chargeable to him. 'in short, i concluded, but for the grave blunders of others you would have canonized sir bartle frere instead of speaking of him as you do. he is the ablest man you ever sent to south africa. as to his personal character, i do not know a finer or manlier christian.' ... 'i am quite bewildered,' said my host, at the end of a long conversation. 'i know more of south africa than i knew before. but we shall not believe you unless you pitch into someone. you have not done that yet; you have only explained past history, and have had a good word for everybody.' 'then, sir,' i quickly answered, 'i pitch into you, and into your governments, one after another, for not mastering the facts of south african life. why do you now refuse to protect your own highway into the interior, and at the same time conserve the work of the missionaries whom you have supported for two generations, and thus put an end to the freebooting of the boers, and of our own people who joined them? at present there is a disarmed coloured population, disarmed by your own laws on account only of their colour; and there is an armed population, armed under your laws, because they are white; and you decline to interfere in any way for the protection of the former. you will neither protect the natives nor give them fair play and an open field, so that they may protect themselves.' 'now, my dear,' said the little wife, 'i wonder who deserves to be hanged now? i am sure we are obliged to mr. mackenzie for giving us a clear view of things.' 'no, no, you are always too hasty,' said my host, quite gravely. 'the thing gets very serious. do i rightly understand you, mr. mackenzie, that practically we englishmen arm those freebooters (from the transvaal,) and practically keep the blacks disarmed, and that when the blacks have called on us for protection and have offered themselves and their country to the queen we have paid no heed? is this true?' 'every word true,' i replied. 'then may i ask, did you not fight for these people? you had surely got a rifle,' said my host, turning right round on me. 'my dear, you forget mr. mackenzie has been a missionary,' said his wife. 'you yourself, as a director of the london missionary society, would have had him cashiered if he had done anything of the kind.' 'nonsense, you don't see the thing. i assure you i could not have endured such meanness and injustice. i should have broken such confounded laws. i should have shouldered a rifle, i know,' said the indignant man as he paced his room. 'my dear, you would have got shot, you know,' said his wife. 'shot! yes, certainty, why not?' said my host; and added gravely, 'a fellow would know _why_ he was shot. is it true, mr. mackenzie, that those blacks were kind to our people who fled to them from the transvaal, and that they there protected them?' 'quite true,' i rejoined. 'then by heaven,' said mr.----, raising his voice-'let us go to supper,' broke in the gentle wife, 'you are only wearying mr. mackenzie by your constant wishes to hang some one.' "i trust my friends will forgive me for recalling this conversation, which vividly pictures the state of people's mind concerning south africa in 1882. i found that most people were incredulous as to the facts being known at the colonial office, and there was a uniform persuasion that mr. gladstone was ignorant that such things were going on." i have given these interviews (much abridged) because they illustrate in a rather humourous way a state of mind which unhappily has long existed and exists to some degree to this day in england--an impatience of responsibility for anything concerning interests lying beyond the shores of our own island, a certain superciliousness, and a habit of expressing and adhering to suddenly formed and violent opinions without sufficient study of the matters in question,--such opinions being often influenced by the bias of party politics. our countrymen are now waking up to a graver and deeper consideration of the tremendous interests at stake in our colonies and dependencies, and to a greater readiness to accept responsibilities which once undertaken it is cowardice to reject or even to complain of. at the request of the london missionary society, mr. mackenzie drew up an extended account of the bechuanaland question, which had a wide circulation. he did not enter into party politics, but merely gave evidence as to matters of fact. there was surprise and indignation expressed wherever the matter was carefully studied and understood. many resolutions were transmitted to the colonial secretary from public meetings; one which came from a meeting in the town hall of birmingham was as, follows:-"this meeting earnestly trusts that the british government will firmly discharge the responsibilities which they have undertaken in protection of the native races on the transvaal border." among the people who took up warmly the cause of the south african natives were dr. conder, mr. baines, and mr. yates of leeds (who addressed themselves directly to mr. gladstone), dr. campbell and dr. duff of edinburgh, the rev. arnold thomas and mr. chorlton of bristol, mr. howard of ashton-under-lyne, mr. thomas rigby of chester, and others. a resolution was sent to the colonial office by the secretary of the congregational union of england and wales, which had been passed unanimously at a meeting of that body in bristol:-"that the assembly of the congregational union, recognising with devout thankfulness the precious and substantial results of the labours of two generations of congregational christian missionaries in bechuanaland, learns with grief and alarm that the lawless incursions of certain boers from the transvaal threaten the utter ruin of peace, civilization, and christianity in that land. this assembly therefore respectfully and most urgently entreats her majesty's government, in accordance with the express provision of the convention by which self-government was granted to the boers, to take such steps as shall eventually put a stop to a state of things as inconsistent with the pledged word of england as with the progress of the bechuanaland nations." signed at bristol, oct. 1882. "these," says mr. mackenzie, "were not words of war, but of peace; they were not the words of enemies, but of friends of the transvaal, many of whom had been prominent previously in agitating for the boers getting back their independence. they felt that this was the just complement of that action; the boers were to have freedom within the transvaal, but not licence to turn bechuanaland (and other neighbouring native states) into a pandemonium." there was a closer contact in edinburgh with south africa than elsewhere, owing to the constant presence at that university of a large number of students from south africa. a public meeting was held in edinburgh, among the speakers whereat were bishop cotterill, who had lived many years in south africa; mr. gifford, who had been a long time in natal; professor calderwood, and dr. blaikie, biographer of dr. livingstone. the venerable mr. cullen, the first missionary traveller in bechuanaland, who had often entertained dr. moffat and dr. livingstone in his house, was present to express his interest in that country. there were the kindest expressions used towards our dutch fellow-subjects; but grave condemnation was expressed of the transvaal policy towards the coloured people in making it a fundamental law that they were not to be equal to the whites either in church or state. a south african committee was formed in london from which a largely supported address was presented to mr. gladstone. the high commissioner for bechuanaland gave his impressions at several different times during that and the preceding year on the subject of the constant illegal passing of the western boundary line of the transvaal by the boers. readers will remember that the delimitation of the western boundary of the transvaal was a fixed condition of the convention of 1881, a convention which was continually violated by the boers. no rest was permitted for the poor natives of the different tribes on that side, the boers' land-hunger continuing to be one of their strongest passions. the high commissioner wrote, "if montsioa and mankoroane were now absorbed, banokwani, makobi and bareki would soon share the same fate. haseitsiwe and sechele would come next. so long as there were native cattle to be stolen and native lands to be taken possession of, the absorbing process would be repeated. tribe after tribe would be pushed back and back upon other tribes or would perish in the process until an uninhabitable desert or the sea were reached as the ultimate boundary of the transvaal state."[16] the manifesto presented by the transvaal delegates to the english people convinced no one, and its tone was calculated rather to beget suspicion. the following is an extract from that document: "the horrible misdeeds committed by spain in america, by the dutch in the indian archipelago, by england in india, and by the southern planters in the united states, constitute an humiliating portion of the history of mankind, over which we as christians may well blush, confessing with a contrite heart our common guiltiness." "the labours of the anti-slavery and protection of aborigines societies which have been the means of arousing the public conscience to the high importance of this matter cannot be, according to our opinion, sufficiently lauded and encouraged." the manifesto then goes on to meet the charges concerning slavery and ill-treatment of natives brought against the transvaal by a flat denial. "they may be true," they say, "as to actions done long ago, and they humbly pray to the lord god to forgive them the sins that may have been committed in hidden corners. believe us, therefore, gentlemen, when we say that the opposition to our government is caused by prejudice, and fed by misunderstanding. if you leave us untrammelled, we hope to god that before a new generation has passed, a considerable portion of our natives in the transvaal will be converted to christianity; at least our government is preparing arrangements for a more thorough christian mission among them." a public meeting was held at the mansion house, called by the lord mayor, sir r. fowler, at which the right hon. w.e. forster, referring to the sand river and the other conventions said: "can anything be more grossly unfair and unjust than on the one hand, to hand over these native people to the transvaal government, and on the other hand to do our utmost to prevent them from defending themselves when their rights are attacked? i cannot conceive any provision more contrary to that principle of which we are so proud--british fair play." speaking of the treatment of the bechuanaland people by the boers he said: "the story of these men is a very sad one; i would rather never allude to it again." he then referred to "the settlement of the western boundary of the transvaal by governor keate, and the immediate repudiation of it by the transvaal rulers. then came the pretoria convention only two years ago which added a large block of native land to the transvaal. that was not enough. freebooters came over, mostly from the transvaal, and afterwards from other parts of the country. representations and remonstrances were made to the transvaal government. there was a non possumus reply. 'we cannot stop them;' we seem to have good ground for believing that the freebooters were stimulated by the officers of the transvaal government. the result was that the native chiefs of the people lost by far the larger portion of their land. they appealed to our government, and we did nothing; there came again and again despairing appeals to england, and how were they met? i can only believe it was through ignorance of the question that it was possible to meet them as we did. it was proposed to meet them by a miserable compensation in money or in land, not to the people but to the few chiefs, who to their credit, as a lesson to us, a great christian country said: 'we will not desert our people even if you desert us.' then there followed utter disorder and disorganisation in bechuanaland. then came in the transvaal government and virtually said: 'give us the country and we will maintain order; if owners of the land object we will put them down as rebels; we will take their land as we have taken mapoch's, and apprentice their children. you have got tired of these quarrels, leave them to us; we will put a stop to them by protecting the robbers who have taken the land.' "that practically is the demand. are you prepared to grant it? i for my part say, that rather than grant it i would (a voice in the meeting--'fight!') yes, if necessary, fight; but i will do my utmost to persuade my fellow countrymen to make the declaration that, if necessary, force will be used, which, if it was believed in, would make it unnecessary to fight. "the transvaal boers know our power, and the delegates know our power. it is our will that they doubt. if i could not persuade my fellow countrymen that they meant to show that they would never grant such demands as these, i would rather do--what i should otherwise oppose with all my might,--withdraw from south africa altogether. i am not so proud of our extended empire as to wish to preserve it at the cost of england refusing to discharge her duties. if we have obligations we must meet them, and if we have duties we must fulfil them; and i have confidence in the english people that first or last they will make our government fulfil its obligations. but there is much difference between first and last; last is much more difficult than first, and more costly than first. the cost increases with more than geometrical progression. there are people who say, (but the british nation will not say it;) 'leave us alone, let these colonists and boers and natives whom we are tired of, fight it out as best they can; let us declare by our deeds, or rather by our non deeds that we will not keep our promise nor fulfil our duty.' such a course as that would be as extravagantly costly as it would be shamefully wrong. this _laissez faire_ policy tends to make things go from bad to worse until at last by a great and most costly effort, and perhaps by a really bloody and destructive war, we shall be obliged to do in the end at a greater cost, and in a worse way, that which we could do now. it is not impossible to do it now. a gentleman in the meeting said it was a question of fighting. i do not believe this; but though born a quaker, i must admit that if there be no other way by which we can protect our allies and prevent the ungrateful desertion of those who helped us in the time of need, than by the exercise of force, i say force must be exercised." readers will remark how extraordinarily prophetic are these words of mr. forster, spoken in 1883. the "venerable and beloved lord shaftesbury," as mr. mackenzie calls him, spoke as follows:-"this morning has been put into my hands the reply of the transvaal delegates to the aborigines protection society. i read it with a certain amount of astonishment and of comfort too,--of astonishment that men should be found possessing such a depth of christianity, such sentiments of religion, such love for veracity, and such regard for the human race as to put on record and to sign with their own hands such a denial of the atrocities and cruelties which have been recorded against them for so many years. it is most blessed to contemplate the depth of their religious sentiments; they express the love they bear to our lord and saviour, and their desire to walk in his steps. all this is very beautiful, and, _if true_, is the greatest comfort ever given us concerning the native races. i will take that document as a promise for the future that they will act upon these principles, that they are christians, and that they will act on christian principles, and respect the rights of the natives. that is perhaps the most generous view to take of the matter; but, nevertheless, we shall be inclined to doubt until we _see_ that they have put these principles into practice. "let me come to the laws of the transvaal. it is a fundamental law of that state that there can be no equality either in church or in state between white and coloured men. no native is allowed to hold land in the transvaal with such a fundamental law. it is nothing more than a necessary transition to the conclusion that the coloured people should be contemned as being of an inferior order, and only fit for slavery. that is a necessary transition, and it is for englishmen to protest against it, and to say that all men, of whatever creed, or race, or colour, are equal in church and state, and in the sight of god, and to assert the principle of civil and religious liberty whenever they have the opportunity. i have my fears at times of the consequences of democratic action; but i shall never feel afraid of appealing to the british democracy on a question of civil and religious liberty. that strikes a chord that is very deep and dear to every briton everywhere. they believe,--and their history shows that they act upon the belief,--that the greatest blessing here below that can be given to intellectual and moral beings is the gift of civil and religious liberty. sensible of the responsibility we have assumed, we appeal to the british public, and i have no doubt what the answer will be. it will be that by god's blessing, and so far as in us lies, civil and religious liberty _shall_ prevail among all the tribes of south africa, to the end that they may become civilized nations, vying with us in the exercise of the gifts that god has bestowed upon us." sir henry barkly, who had held the office of governor of the cape colony, and of high commissioner for a number of years, said:-"apart from other considerations, it is essential in the interests of civilization and of commerce that the route to the interior of the dark continent should be kept in our hands. it has been through the stations planted by our missionaries all along it, as far as matabeleland, that the influence of the gospel has been spread among the natives, and that the way has been made safe and easy for the traveller and the trader. can we suppose that these stations can be maintained if we suffer the road to fall within the limits of the transvaal? we need not recall our melancholy experience of the past in this region. i would rather refer to the case of the paris evangelical society, whose missionaries were refused leave only a short time ago to teach or preach to the basuto-speaking population within the transvaal territory." the hon. k. southey said:-"i concur entirely with what has been said by the right hon. mr. forster with regard to slavery. it must be admitted that the institution does not exist in name; but in reality something very closely allied to it exists, for in that country there is no freedom for the coloured races. the road to the interior must be kept open, not only for the purposes of trade, but also as a way by which the gospel may be carried from here to the vast regions beyond her majesty's possessions in that part of the world. if we allow the transvaal state to annex a territory through which the roads to the interior pass, not only will there be difficulties put in the way of our traders, but the missionary also will find it no easy task to obey the injunction to carry the gospel into all lands, and to preach it to all peoples." sir fowell buxton presented the following thought, which might with advantage be taken to heart at the present time:-"we know how in the united states they have lately been celebrating the events that recall the time a century ago of the declaration of their independence. i will ask you to consider what would have been the best advice that we could have given at that time to the government at washington? do we not know that in regard to all that relates to the well-being of the country, to mere matters of wealth and property, the best advice to have given them would have been, to deliver their country at once from all connection with slavery in the days when they formed her constitution." * * * * * sir william m'arthur, m.p., said:-"i have never seen in the mansion house a larger or more enthusiastic meeting, and i believe that the feeling which animates this meeting is animating the whole country. any course of action taken by her majesty's ministers towards the transvaal will be very closely watched. i myself am for peace, but i am also for that which maintains peace, viz., a firm and decided policy." * * * * * the poor chief, mankoroane, having heard that the transvaal delegates would discuss questions of vital importance to his people, left bechuanaland and went as far as cape town on his way to england to represent his case there. lord derby, however, sent him word that he could not be admitted to the conference in london, where the ownership of his own country was to be discussed. mankoroane then begged mr. mackenzie to be his representative, but was again told that neither personally nor by representative could he be recognised at the conference in downing street, but that any remarks which mr. mackenzie might make on his behalf would receive the attention of government. (blue book 3841, 92.) the first and great question which the transvaal delegates desired to settle in their own interests was that of the western boundary line, amended by themselves, which was represented on a map. they were informed that their amended treaty was "neither in form nor in substance such as her majesty's government could adopt," there being "certain chiefs who had objected, on behalf of their people, to be included in the transvaal, and there being a strong feeling in london in favour of the independence of these natives, or (if they, the natives, desired it) of their coming under british rule." there was now brought before the delegates a map showing the addition of land which was eventually granted to the transvaal, but the delegates would not agree to any such arrangement. her majesty's government were giving away to them some 2,600 square miles of native territory, concerning which there was no clear evidence that its owners wished to be joined to the transvaal. but this was nothing to the transvaal demand, as shown by a map which they put in, and which included an _additional_ block of 4,000 square miles. not finding agreement with the government possible, the delegates then turned from that position, and took up the question of the remission of the debt which the transvaal owed to england, saying that the wishes of the native chiefs should be consulted first about the boundary line. this was a bold stroke; they were professing to be representing the interests of certain chiefs, which was not the case. lord derby telegraphed to the cape on the 27th of feb. 1884, the result of the protracted labours of the conference at downing street, mentioning:--"british protectorate established outside the transvaal, with delegates' consent. debt reduced to quarter of a million."[17] to many persons it seems that the convention of 1884, rather than the convention of 1881, was the real blunder. it is remarkable, however, as illustrating the small attention which south african affairs then received, that no party controversy was aroused over this later instrument. very soon afterwards, however, the question became acute, owing to the action of mr. kruger; and then, it must be remembered, that mr. gladstone did not hesitate to appeal to the armed strength of the empire in order to defend british interests and prevent the extension of boer rule. that there was not war in 1884 was due only to the fact that mr. kruger at that time did not choose to fight. the raiders and filibusters were put down before by sir charles warren's force, but mr. gladstone had taken every precaution in view of the contingency of a collision. the conditions laid down in the convention did not satisfy the delegates, although they formally assented to them. their disappointment began to be strongly manifested. they had stoutly denied that slavery existed in their country. this denial was challenged by the secretary of the aborigines protection society, who brought forward some very awkward testimonies and facts of recent date. it was suggested that president kruger should for ever silence the calumniators by demanding a commission of enquiry on this subject which would take evidence within and round the transvaal as they might see fit. the delegates took good care not to accept this challenge. the firmness of the british government at that moment was fully justified by the actual facts of the case which came so strikingly before them, and their attitude was supported by public opinion, so far as this public opinion in england then existed. it was the transvaal deputation itself which had most effectually developed it when they first arrived in london, though it was known they had many friends, and that numbers of the public were generally quite willing to consider their claims.[18] they sat for three months in conference with members of her majesty's government before coming to any decision. that decision was known as the london convention of 1884. the displeasure of the boer delegates matured after their return to the transvaal, and was expressed in a message sent by the volksraad to our government not many months after the signing of the convention in london. in this document the boers seem to regard themselves as a victorious people making terms with those they had conquered. it is interesting to note the articles of the convention to which they particularly object. in the telegram which was sent to "his excellency, w.e. gladstone," the volksraad stated that the london convention was not acceptable to them. they declared that "modifications were desirable, and that certain articles _must_ be altered." they attached importance to the native question, declaring that "the suzerain (great britain) has not the right to interfere with their legislature, and that they cannot agree to article 3, which gives the suzerain a voice concerning native affairs, nor to article 13, by virtue of which natives are to be allowed to acquire land, nor to that part of article 26, by which it is provided that white men of a foreign race living in the transvaal shall not be taxed in excess of the taxes imposed on transvaal citizens." it should be observed here that this reference to unequal and excessive taxation of foreigners in the transvaal, pointing to a tendency on the part of the boers to load foreigners with unjust taxation, was made before the development of the goldfields and the great influx of uitlanders. the message of the volksraad was finally summed up in the following words: "we object to the following articles, 15, 16, 26, and 27, because to insist on them is hurtful to our sense of honour." (sic.) now what are the articles to which the boer government here objects, and has continued to object? article 15 enacts that _no slavery or apprenticeship shall be tolerated_. article 16 provides for religious toleration (for natives and all alike.) article 26 provides for the free movement, trading, and residence of all persons, other than natives, conforming themselves to the laws of the transvaal. article 27 gives to all, (natives included,) the right of free access to the courts of justice. putting the "sense of honour" of the transvaal volksraad out of the question, past experience had but too plainly proved that these articles were by no means superfluous. footnotes: [footnote 16: "austral africa, ruling it or losing it," p. 157.] [footnote 17: when the transvaal was annexed, in 1877, the public debt of that country amounted to £301,727. "under british rule this debt was liquidated to the extent of £150,000, but the total was brought up by a parliamentary grant, a loan from the standard bank, and sundries to £390,404, which represented the public debt of the transvaal on the 31st december, 1880. this was further increased by monies advanced by the standard bank and english exchequer during the war, and till the 8th august, 1881, (during which time the country yielded no revenue,) to £457,393. to this must be added an estimated sum of £200,000 for compensation charges, pension allowances, &c., and a further sum of £383,000, the cost of the successful expedition against secocoemi, that of the unsuccessful one being left out of account, bringing up the total public debt to over a million, of which about £800,000 was owing to this country. this sum the commissioners (sir evelyn wood dissenting) reduced by a stroke of the pen to £265,000, thus entirely remitting an approximate sum of £500,000 or £600,000. to the sum of £265,000 still owing must be added say another £150,000 for sums lately advanced to pay the compensation claims, bringing up the actual amount owing to england to about a quarter of a million."--report of assistant secretary to the british agent for native affairs. (blue book 3917, 46.)] [footnote 18: "austral africa." mackenzie.] vi. the career and recall of sir bartle frere. unfortunate effect in south africa of party spirit in politics at home. death of sir bartle frere. the great principles of british government and law. hope for south africa if these are maintained and observed. words of mr. gladstone on the colonizing spirit of englishmen. the case of sir bartle frere illustrates forcibly the inexpediency of allowing our party differences at home to sow the seeds of discord in a distant colony, and the apparent injustices to which such action may give rise. while in england sir bartle frere was being censured and vilified, in south africa an overwhelming majority of the colonists, of whatever race or origin, were declaring, in unmistakable terms, that he had gained their warmest approbation and admiration. town after town and village after village poured in addresses and resolutions in different forms, agreeing in enthusiastic commendation of him as the one man who had grasped the many threads of the south african tangle, and was handling them so as to promise a solution in accordance with the interests of all the many and various races which inhabited it. "in our opinion," one of these resolutions (from cradock) says, "his excellency, sir bartle frere, is one of the best governors, if not the best governor, this colony has ever had, and the disasters which have taken place since he has held office, are not due to any fault of his, but to a shameful mismanagement of public affairs before he came to the colony, and the state of chaos and utter confusion in which he had the misfortune to find everything on his arrival; and we are therefore of opinion that the thanks of every loyal colonist are due to his excellency for the herculean efforts he has since made under the most trying circumstances to south africa...."[19] another, from kimberley says:--"it has been a source of much pain to us that your excellency's policy and proceedings should have been so misunderstood and misrepresented.... the time, we hope, is not far distant when the wisdom of your excellency's native policy and action will be as fully recognized and appreciated by the whole british nation as it is by the colonists of south africa."[20] at pretoria, the capital of the transvaal, a public meeting was held (april 24th), which resolved that:-"this meeting reprobates most strongly the action of a certain section of the english and colonial press for censuring, without sufficient knowledge of local affairs, the policy and conduct of sir b. frere; and it desires not only to express its sympathy with sir b. frere and its confidence in his policy, but also to go so far as to congratulate most heartily her majesty the queen, the home government, and ourselves, on possessing such a true, considerate, and faithful servant as his excellency the high commissioner." a public dinner also was given to sir b. frere at pretoria, at which his health was drunk with the greatest enthusiasm; there was a public holiday, and other rejoicings. sir bartle frere was intending to go to bloemfontein, in the orange free state, to visit president brand, with whom he was on cordial terms, and with whom he wished to talk over his plans for the transvaal; but instructions came from sir michael hicks-beach to proceed to cape town. he therefore left pretoria on may 1st. he was welcomed everywhere with the utmost cordiality and enthusiasm. at potchefstroom there was a public dinner and a reception. on approaching bloemhof he was met by a large cavalcade, and escorted into the township, where a triumphal arch had been erected, and an address was presented. "at kimberley he had been sworn in as governor of griqualand west. fifteen thousand people, it was estimated, turned out to meet and welcome him. from thence to cape town his journey was like a triumphal progress, the population at each place he passed through receiving him in flag-decorated streets, with escorts, triumphal arches, illuminations, and addresses. at worcester, where he reached the railway, there was a banquet, at which sir gordon sprigg was also present. at paarl, which was the head-quarters of the dutch afrikander league, and where some of the most influential dutch families live, a similar reception was given him. finally, at cape town, where, if anywhere, his policy was likely to find opponents among those who regarded it from a provincial point of view, the inhabitants of all classes and sections and of whatever origin, gave themselves up to according him a reception such as had never been surpassed in capetown. "in england, complimentary local receptions and addresses to men in high office or of exalted rank do not ordinarily carry much meaning. party tactics and organization account for a proportion of such manifestations. but the demonstration on this occasion cannot be so explained. there was no party organization to stimulate it. it was too general to confer notoriety on any of its promoters, and sir b. frere had not personally the power, even if he had had the will, to return compliments. and what made it the more remarkable was that there was no special victory or success or event of any kind to celebrate."[21] on reaching cape town, a telegraphic message was handed to him, preparing him for his recall, by the statement that sir h. bulwer was to replace him as high commissioner of the transvaal, natal, and all the adjoining eastern portion of south africa, and that he was to confine his attention for the present to the cape colony. to deprive him of his authority as regarded natal, zululand, the transvaal--the transvaal, which almost by his single hand and voice he had just saved from civil war--and expressly to direct colonel lanyon to cease to correspond with him, was to discredit a public servant before all the world at the crisis of his work. sir bartle frere's great object had been to bring about a confederation of all the different states and portions of south africa, an object with which the home government was in sympathy. what was wanting to bring about confederation was confidence, founded on the permanent pacification and settlement of zululand, the transvaal, the transkei, pondoland, basutoland, west griqualand, and the border generally. how could there, under these circumstances, be confidence any longer? there was no doubt what he had meant to do. by many a weary journey he had made himself personally known throughout south africa. his aims and intentions were never concealed, never changed. in confederating under his superintendence all men knew what they were doing. but he was now to be superseded. was his policy to be changed, and how?[22] it was expected by the political majority in england that as soon as mr. gladstone came into power, sir bartle frere, whose policy had been so strongly denounced, would be at once recalled. when the new parliament met in may, the government found many of their supporters greatly dissatisfied that this had not been done. notice of motion was given of an address to the crown, praying for sir b. frere's removal. certain members of parliament met together several times at the end of may, and a memorial to mr. gladstone was drawn up, which was signed by about ninety of them, and sent to him on june 3rd, to the following effect:-"to the right hon. w.e. gladstone, m.p., first lord of the treasury." "we the undersigned, members of the liberal party, respectfully submit that as there is a strong feeling throughout the country in favour of the recall of sir bartle frere, it would greatly conduce to _the unity of the party and relieve many members from the charge of breaking their pledges to their constituents if_ that step were taken."[23] the first three signatures to this document were those of l.l. dillwyn, wilfrid lawson, and leonard courtney. this has been called not unjustly, "a cynically candid document." the "unity of the party," and "pledges to constituents" are the only considerations alluded to in favour of the recall of a man to whose worth almost the whole of south africa had witnessed, in spite of divided opinions concerning the zulu war, for which he was only in a very minor degree responsible. the memorial to the government had its effect; the successor of sir bartle frere was to be sir hercules robinson. he was in new zealand, and could not reach the cape at once; therefore sir george strahan was appointed _ad interim_ governor, sir bartle being directed not even to await the arrival of the latter, but to leave by the earliest mail steamer. at the news of his recall there arose for the second time a burst of sympathy from every town, village, and farm throughout the country, in terms of mingled indignation and sorrow.[24] the addresses and resolutions, being spontaneous at each place, varied much, and laid stress on different points, but in all there was a tone of deep regret, of conviction that sir b. frere's policy and his actions had been wise, just, and merciful towards all men, and of hope that the british government and people would in time learn the truth.[25] one from farmers of east london concludes: "may god almighty bless you and grant you and yours a safe passage to the mother country, give you grace before our sovereign lady the queen, and eloquence to vindicate your righteous cause before the british nation."[26] the address of the natives of mount cake is pathetic in its simplicity of language. "our hearts are very bitter this day. we hear that the queen calls you to england. we have not heard that you are sick; then why have you to leave us? by you we have now peace. we sleep now without fear. old men tell us of a good governor durban (sir benjamin durban) who had to leave before his good works became law; but red coals were under the ashes which he left. words of wicked men, when he left, like the wind blew up the fire, and the country was again in war. so also sir george grey, a good governor, good to tie up the hands of bad men, good to plant schools, good to feed the hungry, good to have mercy and feed the heathen when dying from hunger, he also had to leave us. we do not understand this. but your excellency is not to leave us. natal has now peace by you; we have peace by you because god and the queen sent you. do not leave us. surely it is not the way of the queen to leave her children here unprotected until peace is everywhere. we shall ever pray for you as well as for the queen. these are our words to our good governor, though he turns his back on us." the malays and other orientals, of whom there is a considerable population at capetown, looked upon frere, a former indian statesman, as their special property. the address from the mahommedan subjects of the queen says:-"we regret that our gracious queen has seen fit to recall your excellency. we cannot help thinking it is through a mistake. the white subjects of her majesty have had good friends and good rulers in former governors, but your excellency has been the friend of white and coloured alike."[27] * * * * * the following letter is from sir john akerman, a member of the legislative council of natal:-"august 9th, 1880. "having become aware of your recall to england from the office of governor of the cape of good hope, etc., etc., i cannot allow your departure to take place without conveying to you, which i hereby do, the profound sense i have of the faithful and conscientious manner in which you have endeavoured to fulfil those engagements which, at the solicitation of great britain, you entered upon in 1877. the policy was not your own, but was thrust upon you. having given in london, in 1876, advice to pursue a different course in south africa from the one then all the fashion and ultimately confided to yourself, it affords me the greatest pleasure to testify to the consistency of the efforts put forth by you to carry out the (then) plan of those who commissioned you, and availed themselves of your acknowledged skill and experience. as a public man of long standing in south africa, i would likewise add that since the days of sir g. grey, no governor but yourself has grasped the _native question here at all_, and i feel confident that had your full authority been retained, and not harshly wrested from you, even at the eleventh hour initiatory steps of a reformatory nature with respect to the natives would have been taken, which it is the duty of britain to follow while she holds her sovereignty over these parts." sir gordon sprigg wrote:-"august 29th, 1880. "i don't feel able yet to give expression to my sentiments of profound regret that her majesty's government have thought it advisable to recall you from the post which you have held with such conspicuous advantage to south africa. they have driven from south africa 'the best friend it has ever known.' for myself i may say that in the midst of all the difficulties with which i have been surrounded, i have always been encouraged and strengthened by the cheerful view you have taken of public affairs, and that i have never had half-an-hour's conversation with your excellency without feeling a better, and, i believe, a wiser man." madame koopmans de wet, a lady of an old family, dutch of the dutch, wrote to him, nov. 16th, 1880:-"it is with feelings of the deepest sorrow that i take the liberty of addressing these lines to you.... what is to be the end of all this now? for now, particularly, do the cape people miss _their_ governor, for now superior qualities in everything are wanted. dear sir bartle, you know the material we have; it is good, but who is to guide? it is plain to every thinking mind that our position is becoming more critical every day.... "but with deep sorrow let me say, england's, or rather downing street's treatment, has not tightened the bonds between the mother country and us. you know we have a large circle of acquaintances, and i cannot say how taken aback i sometimes am to hear their words. see, in all former wars there was a moral support in the thought that england, our england, was watching over us. now there is but one cry, 'we shall have no imperial help.' why is this? we have lost confidence in a government who could play with our welfare; and among the many injuries done us, the greatest was to remove from among us a ruler such as your excellency was." "as the day drew near, the cape town people were perplexed how to express adequately their feelings on the occasion. it was suggested that on the day he was to embark, the whole city should mourn with shops closed, flags half-mast high, and in profound silence. but more cheerful counsels prevailed. "he was to leave by the _pretoria_ on the afternoon of sept. 15th. special trains had brought in contingents from the country. the open space in front of government house, plein street, church square, adderley street, the dock road, the front of the railway station, the wharves, the housetops, and every available place, whence a view of the procession could be procured, was closely packed. the governor's carriage left government house at half-past four,--volunteer cavalry furnishing the escort, and volunteer rifles, engineers, and cadets falling in behind,--and amid farewell words and ringing cheers, moved slowly along the streets gay with flags and decorations. at the dock gates the horses were taken out and men drew the carriage to the quay, where the _pretoria_ lay alongside. here the general, the ministers, and other leading people, were assembled; and the 91st regiment, which had been drawn up, presented arms, the band played "god save the queen," and the volunteer artillery fired a salute as the governor for the last time stepped off african soil. "there had been some delay at starting, the tide was ebbing fast, the vessel had been detained to the last safe moment, and she now moved out slowly, and with caution, past a wharf which the malays, conspicuous in their bright-coloured clothing, had occupied, then, with a flotilla of boats rowing alongside, between a double line of yachts, steam-tugs and boats, dressed out with flags, and dipping their ensigns as she passed, and lastly, under the stern of the _boadicea_ man-of-war, whose yards were manned, and whose crew cheered. the guns of the castle fired the last salute from the shore, which was answered by the guns of the _boadicea_; and in the still bright evening the smoke hung for a brief space like a curtain, hiding the shores of the bay from the vessel. a puff of air from the south-east cleared it away, and showed once more in the sunset light the flat mass of table mountain, the "lion's head" to its right, festooned with flags, the mountain slopes dotted over with groups thickening to a continuous broad black line of people, extending along the water's edge from the central jetty to the breakwater basin. the vessel's speed increased, the light faded, and the night fell on the last, the most glorious, and yet the saddest day of sir bartle frere's forty-five years' service of his queen and country. "for intensity of feeling and unanimity it would be hard in our time to find a parallel to this demonstration of enthusiasm for a public servant. the cape town people are by race and habit the reverse of demonstrative; yet it was noticed that day, as it had been noticed when frere left sattara (india) thirty years before, and again when he left sind twenty-one years before--a sight almost unknown amongst men of english or german race in our day--that _men_ looking on were unable to restrain their tears. at sattara and in sind the regret at losing him was softened by the knowledge that his departure was due to a recognition of his merit; that he was being promoted in a service in which his influence might some day extend with heightened power to the country he was leaving. it was far otherwise when he left the cape. on that occasion the regret of the colonists was mingled with indignation, and embittered with a sense of wrong."[28] the writer just quoted makes the following remarks:-"no one who has not associated with colonists in their homes can rightly enter into the mixed feelings with which they regard the mother country. as with a son who is gone forth into the world, there is often on one side the conceit of youth and impatience of restraint, shown in uncalled for acts of self-assertion or in dogmatic speech; and on the other side a supercilious want of sympathy with the changed surroundings, the pursuits and the aspirations of the younger generation. it seems as if there were no bond left between the two. but a day of trial comes; parent or offspring is threatened by a stranger; and then it is seen that the old instinct and yearnings are not dead, but only latent. the mother country had hitherto not been forgetful of its natural obligations to its south african offspring." "but those" he goes on to say, "who on that fateful evening watched the hull of the _pretoria_ slowly dipping below the western horizon felt that if, as seemed only too probable, dismemberment of the british empire in south africa were sooner or later to follow, the fault did not lie with the colonists." the mother country had, he asserts, sacrificed the interests of her loyal sons abroad to those which were at that moment pre-occupying her at home, and appearing to her in such dimensions as to blot out the larger view which later events gradually forced upon her vision. the words above quoted are strong, perhaps too strong, but if we are true lovers of our country and race and of our fellow creatures everywhere, we shall not shrink from any such warnings, though their wording may seem exaggerated. for we have a debt to pay back to south africa; and if we cannot resume our solemn responsibilities towards her and her millions of native peoples, in a chastened, a wiser and a more determined spirit than that which for some time has prevailed, it would be better to relinquish them altogether. but we are beginning to understand the lesson written for our learning in this solemn page of contemporary history which is to-day laid open before our eyes and before those of the whole world. i have recorded some few of the many testimonies in favour of sir bartle frere, because he,--a man beloved and respected by many of us,--was the subject of a hastily formed judgment which continues in a measure even to this day, to obscure the memory of his worth. a friend writes: "his letters are admirable as showing his statesmanlike and humane view of things, and his courage and patience under exasperating conditions. he returned to england under a cloud, and died of a broken heart." mr. mackenzie, writing of his own departure from england in 1884 to return to south africa, says:-"the farewell which affected me most was that of sir bartle frere, who was then stretched on what turned out to be his death-bed. he was very ill, and not seeing people, but was so gratified that what he had proposed in 1878 as to bechuanaland should be carried out in 1884, that lady frere asked me to call and see him before i sailed. "the countenance of this eminent officer was now thin, his voice was weaker; but light was still in his eye and the mind quite unclouded. 'here i am, mackenzie, between living and dying, waiting the will of god.' 'i expressed my hope for his recovery.' 'we won't talk about me. i wanted to see you. i feel i can give you advice, for i am an old servant of the queen. i have no fear of your success now on the side of government. sir hercules robinson, having selected you, will uphold you with a full support. the rest will depend on your own character and firmness and tact. i am quite sure you will succeed. your difficulties will be at the beginning. but you will get them to believe in you--the farmers as well as the natives. they will soon see you are their friend. now remember this: get good men round you; get, if possible, godly men as your officers. what has been done in india has been accomplished by hard-working, loyal-hearted men, working willingly under chiefs to whom they were attached. get the right stamp of men round you and the future is yours.' "this was the last kindly action and friendly advice of a distinguished, noble-minded, and self-forgetful christian man, who had befriended me as an obscure person,--our meeting-ground and common object being the future welfare of all races in south africa. i went forth to complete my life work: he remained to die." it was a costly sacrifice made on the altar of party. my friends have sometimes asked me, what then is the ground of my hope for the future of our country and all over whom our queen reigns? i reply,--my hope lies in the fact that above all party differences, above all private and political theories, above all the mere outward forms of government and the titles given to these, there stand, eternally firm and unchangeable, the great principles of our constitution which are the basis of our jurisprudence, and of every law which is inherently just. i use these words deliberately--"eternally firm and unchangeable." a long and deep study of these principles, and some experience of the grief and disaster caused by any grave departure from them, have convinced me that these principles are founded on the highest ethics,--the ethics of christ. the great charter of our liberties was born, as all the most precious things are, through "great tribulation," at a time when our whole nation was groaning under injustice and oppression, and when sorrow had purified the eyes of the noble "seers" of the time, and their appeal was to the god of justice himself, and to no lower tribunal. these seers were then endowed with the power to bend the will of a stubborn and selfish monarch, and to put on record the stern principles of our "immortal charter." i have often longed that every school-boy and girl should be taught and well-grounded in these great principles. it would not be a difficult nor a dry study, for like all great things, these principles are simple, straight, and clear as the day. it is when, we come to intricacies and technicalities of laws, even though based on these great fundamental lines, that the study becomes dry, useful to the professional lawyer, but not to the pupil in school or the public generally. the principles of our constitution have been many times in the course of our national history disregarded, and sometimes openly violated. but such disregard and such violation have happily not been allowed to be of long duration. sometimes the respect of these principles has been restored by the efforts of a group of enlightened statesmen, but more frequently by the awakened "common sense"[29] of the people, who have become aware that they, or even some very humble section of them, have been made to suffer by such violation. again and again the gallant "ship of our constitution," carrying the precious cargo of our inalienable rights and liberties, has righted herself in the midst of storms and heavy seas of trouble. having been called for thirty years of my life to advocate the rights of a portion of our people,--the meanest and most despised of our fellow citizens,--when those rights had been destroyed by an act of parliament which was a distinct violation of the constitution, and having been driven, almost like a ship-wrecked creature to cling, with the helpless crew around me, during those years to this strong rock of principle, and having found it to be political and social salvation in a time of need, i cannot refrain, now in my old age, from embracing every opportunity i may have of warning my fellow countrymen of the danger there is in departing from these principles. my hope for the future of south africa, granting its continuance as a portion of our colonial empire, is in the resurrection of these great principles from this present tribulation, and their recognition by our rulers, politicians, editors, writers, and people at large as the expression of essential justice and morality. france possesses, equally with ourselves, a record of these principles in its famous "declaration of the rights of man," born also in a period of great national tribulation. that document is in principle identical with our own great charter. but france has only possessed it a little more than a century, whereas our own charter dates back many centuries; hence the character of our people has been in a great measure formed upon its principles, and they have been made sensitive to any grave or continued violation of them. in france, earnest and sometimes almost despairing appeals are now made to these fundamental principles expressed in their own great charter by a minority of men who continue to see straight and clearly through the clouds of contending factions in the midst of which they live; but for a large portion of the nation they are a dead letter, even if they have ever been intelligently understood. how far has south africa been governed on these principles? i boldly affirm that on the whole, since the beginning of the last century, it is these principles of british government and law, so far as they have been enforced, which have saved that colony from anarchy and confusion, and its native populations from bondage or annihilation. but they have not been sufficiently strongly enforced. they have not been brought to bear upon those englishmen, traders, speculators, company-makers, and others whose interests may have been in opposition to these principles. a swiss missionary who has lived a great part of his life in south africa, writes to me:--"the whole of south africa is to blame in its treatment of the natives. take the british merchant, the boer and dutch official, the german colonist, the french and swiss trader,--there is no difference. the general feeling among these is against the coloured race being educated and evangelized.... only what can and must be said is this, that _the laws of the english colonies are just_; those of the boer states are the negation of every right, civil and religious, which the black man ought to have." i have similar testimonies from missionaries (not englishmen); but i regret to say that these good men hesitate to have their names published,--not from selfish reasons,--but from love of their missionary work and their native converts, to whom they fear they will never be permitted to return if the ascendancy of the present transvaal government should continue, and mr. kruger should learn that they have published what they have seen in his country. it is to be hoped that these witnesses will feel impelled before long to speak out. the writer just quoted, says:--"i firmly believe that the native question is at the bottom of all this trouble. the time is coming when, cost what it will, we missionaries must speak out." in connection with this subject, i give here a quotation from the "daily news," march 21st, 1900. the article was inspired by a thoughtful speech of sir edward grey. the writer asks the reason of the loss of the capacity in our liberal party to deal with colonial matters; and replies: "it is to be found, we think, in want of imagination and in want of faith. there are many among us who have failed, from want of imagination, to grasp that we have been living in an age of expansion; or who, recognising the fact, have from want of faith seen in it occasion only for lamentation and woe. failure in either of these respects is sure to deprive a british party of popular support. for the 'expansion of england' now, as in former times, proceeds from the people themselves, and faith in the mission of england is firmly planted in the popular creed." we recall a noble passage in which mr. gladstone stated with great clearness the inevitable tendency of the times in which we live. "there is," he said, "a continual tendency on the part of enterprising people to overstep the limits of the empire, and not only to carry its trade there, but to form settlements in other countries beyond the sphere of a regularly organized government, and there to constitute a civil government of their own. let the government adopt, with mathematical rigour if you like, an opposition to annexation, and what does it effect? it does nothing to check that tendency--that perhaps irresistible tendency--of british enterprise to carry your commerce, and to carry the range and area of your settlement beyond the limits of your sovereignty.... there the thing is, and you cannot repress it. wherever your subjects go, if they are in pursuit of objects not unlawful, you must afford them all the protection which your power enables you to give." "there the thing is." (but many liberals have lacked the imagination to see it.) and being there, it affords a great opportunity; for "to this great empire is committed (continued mr. gladstone) a trust and a function given from providence as special and as remarkable as ever was entrusted to any portion of the family of man." but not all liberals share mr. gladstone's faith. they thus cut themselves off from one of the chief tendencies and some of the noblest ideals of the time. liberalism must broaden its outlook, and seek to promote "the large and efficient development of the british commonwealth on liberal lines, both within and outside these islands." footnotes: [footnote 19: blue book, c. p. 28, 2673.] [footnote 20: blue book, c. 2454, p. 57.] [footnote 21: life and correspondence of sir bartle frere, by j. martineau.] [footnote 22: life and correspondence of sir bartle frere, by j. martineau.] [footnote 23: the italics are my own.] [footnote 24: there are between sixty and seventy resolutions and addresses recorded in the blue-book, all passed unanimously except in one case, at stellenbosch where a minority opposed the resolution. the spokesman of the minority, however, based his opposition not on frere's general policy, still less on his character, but as a protest against an excise act, which was one of mr. spring's measures.] [footnote 25: life and correspondence of sir bartle frere.] [footnote 26: blue book, c. 2740, p. 46.] [footnote 27: blue book, c. 2740, p. 63.] [footnote 28: life and correspondence of the right hon. sir bartle frere, by martineau.] [footnote 29: in the sense in which the great lord chatham used the words.] vii. transvaal policy since 1884. delimitation of boundary agreed to and not observed. the chief montsioa. his country placed under british protection. transvaal law. the grondwet or constitution. the high courts of justice subservient to the volksraad or parliament. article 9 of the grondwet referring to natives. native marriage laws. the pass system. misplaced governmental titles,--republic, empire, etc. the boer policy towards the natives did not undergo any change for the better from 1881 and onwards. at the time of the rising of the boers against the british protectorate, which culminated in the battle of majuba hill and the retrocession of the transvaal, a number of native chiefs in districts outside the transvaal boundary, sent to the british commissioner for native affairs to offer their aid to the british government, and many of them took the "loyals" of the transvaal under their protection. one of these was montsioa, a christian chief of the barolong tribe. he and other chiefs took charge of government property and cattle during the disturbances, and one had four or five thousand pounds in gold, the product of a recently collected tax, given him to take care of by the commissioner of his district, who was afraid that the money would be seized by the boers. _in, every instance the property entrusted to their charge was returned intact_. the loyalty of all the native chiefs under very trying circumstances, is a remarkable proof of the great affection of the kaffirs, and more especially those of the basuto tribes, who love peace better than war, for the queen's rule. i will cite one other instance among many of the gladness with which different native races placed themselves under the protection of the queen. in may, 1884, in the discharge of his office as deputy commissioner in bechuanaland, and on behalf of her majesty, the queen, mr. mackenzie entered into a treaty with the chief, montsioa, by which his country (the barolong's country) was placed under british protection, and also with moshette, a neighbouring chief, who wrote a letter to mr. mackenzie asking to be put under the same protection as the other barolong.[30] mr. mackenzie wrote:[31]--"whatever may have been the feelings of disapproval of the british protectorate entertained by the transvaal people, i was left in no manner of doubt as to the joy and thankfulness with which it was welcomed in the barolong country itself. "the signing of the treaty in the courtyard of montsioa, at mafeking, by the chief and his headmen, was accompanied by every sign of gladness and good feeling. the speech of the venerable chief montsioa was very cordial, and so cheerful in its tone as to show that he hoped and believed that the country would now get peace. "using the formula for many years customary in proclamations of marriages in churches in bechuanaland, montsioa, amid the smiles of all present, announced an approaching political union, and exclaimed with energy, "let objectors now speak out or henceforth for ever be silent." there was no objector. "i explained carefully in the language of the people, the nature and object of the protectorate, and the manner in which it was to be supported. "montsioa then demanded in loud tones: "barolong! what is your response to the words that you have heard?" "with one voice there came a great shout from one end of the courtyard to the other, "we all want it." "the chief turned to me and said, "there! you have the answer of the barolong, we have no uncertain feelings here." as i was unfolding the views of her majesty's government that the protectorate should be self-supporting, the chief cried out, 'we know all about it, mackenzie, we consent to pay the tax.' i could only reply to this by saying that that was just what i was coming to; but, inasmuch as they knew all about it, and saw its importance, i need say no more on the subject. "montsioa, in the first instance, did not like the appearance of moshette's people in his town. i told him i was glad they had come, and he must reserve his own feelings, and await the results of what was taking place. i was pleased, therefore, when in the public meeting in the courtyard, just before the signing of the treaty, montsioa turned to the messengers of moshette and asked them if they saw and heard nicely what was being done with the barolong country? they replied in the affirmative, and thus, from a native point of view, became assenting parties. in this manner something definite was done towards effacing an ancient feud. the signing of the treaty then took place, the translation of which is given in the blue book. "after the treaty had been signed, the old chief requested that prayer might be offered up, which was accordingly done by a native minister. the satisfaction of the great event was further marked by the discharge of a volley from the rifles of a company of young men told off for the purpose; and the old cannon of montsioa, mounted between the wheels of an ox-waggon, was also brought into requisition to proclaim the general joy and satisfaction. "but alas! such feelings were destined to be of short duration. while we were thus employed at mafeking, the openly-declared enemies of the imperial government, and of peace and order in bechuanaland, had been at their appropriate work elsewhere within the protectorate. before sunset the same evening, i was surprised to hear the bechuana war cry sounded in montsioa's town, and shortly afterwards i saw the old chief approaching my waggon, followed by a large body of men. "'monare makence!' (mr. mackenzie), 'the cattle have been lifted by the boers,' was his first announcement. i shall never forget the scene at that moment. the excitement of the men, some of whom were reduced to poverty by what had taken place, and also their curiosity as to what step i should take, were plainly enough revealed on the faces of the crowd who, with their chief, now stood before me. "'mr. mackenzie,' said montsioa, 'you are master now, you must say what is to be done. we shall be obedient to your orders.' 'we have put our names on your paper, but the boers have our cattle all the same,' said one man. another shouted out with vehemence, 'please don't tell us to go on respecting the boundary line. why should we do so when the boers don't?' 'who speaks about a boundary line?' said another speaker, probably a heavy loser. 'is it a thing that a man can eat? where are our cattle?' "as i have already said, i shall never forget the scene in which these and similar speeches were made at my waggon as the sun went down peacefully--the sun which had witnessed the treaty-signing and the rejoicings at mafeking. its departing rays now saw the cattle of the barolong safe in the transvaal, and the barolong owners and her majesty's deputy commissioner looking at one another, at mafeking."[32] mr. mackenzie then resolved what to do, and announced that he would at once cross the boundary and go himself to the nearest transvaal town to demand redress. there was a hum of approval, with a sharp enquiry from montsioa,--did he really mean to go himself? "having no one to send, i must go myself," mackenzie replied. the old chief, in a generous way, half dissuaded him from the attempt. "the boers cannot be trusted. what shall i say if you do not return?" "all right, montsioa," replied mackenzie, "say i went of my own accord. i will leave my wife under your care." "poor old fellow," writes mackenzie, "brave-hearted, though 'only a native,' he went away full of heaviness, promising me his cart and harness, and an athletic herd as a driver, to start early next morning." mr. mackenzie had little success in this expedition. he was listened to with indifference when he represented to certain landdrosts and field cornets that he had not come to talk politics, but to complain of a theft. those to whom he spoke looked upon the cattle raid not as robbery, but as "annexation" or "commandeering." a man, listening to the palaver, exclaimed: "well, anyhow, we shall have cheap beef as long as montsioa's cattle last." at the hotel of the place mr. mackenzie met some europeans, who were farming or in business in the transvaal. they said to him: "mr. mackenzie, we are sorry to have to say it to you, for we have all known you so long, but, honestly speaking, we hope you won't succeed; the english government does not deserve to succeed after all that they have made us--loyal colonists--suffer in the transvaal. for a long time scarcely a day has passed without our being insulted by the more ignorant boers, till we are almost tired of our lives, and yet we cannot go away, having invested our all in the country." "many such speeches were made to me," says mackenzie, "i give only one." i cannot find it in my heart to criticize the character of the boers at a time when they have held on so bravely in a desperate war, and have suffered so much. there are boers and boers,--good and bad among them,--as among all nations. we have heard of kind and generous actions towards the british wounded and prisoners, and we know that there are among them men who, in times of peace, have been good and merciful to their native servants. but it is not magnanimity nor brutality on the part of individuals which are in dispute. our controversy is concerning the presence or absence of justice among the boers, concerning the purity of their government and the justice of their laws, or the reverse. i turn to their laws, and in judging these, it is hardly possible to be too severe. law is a great teacher, a trainer, to a great extent, of the character of the people. the boers would have been an exceptional people under the sun had they escaped the deterioration which such laws and such government as they have had the misfortune to live under inevitably produce. a pamphlet has lately been published containing a defence of the boer treatment of missionaries and natives, and setting forth the efforts which have been made in recent years to christianize and civilize the native populations in their midst. this paper is signed by nine clergymen of the dutch reformed church, and includes the name of the rev. andrew murray, a name respected and beloved by many in our own country. it is welcome news that such good work has been undertaken, that the president has himself encouraged it, and that a number of zulus or kaffirs have recently been baptized in the dutch reformed church of the transvaal. but the fact strikes one painfully that in this pleading, (which has a pathetic note in it,) these clergymen appear to have obliterated from their mind and memory the whole past history, of their nation, and to have forgotten that the harvest from seed sown through many generations may spring up and bear its bitter fruit in their own day. they do not seem to have accepted the verdict, or made the confession, "we and our fathers have sinned." they seem rather to argue, "our fathers may have sinned in these respects, but it cannot be laid to our charge that we are continuing in their steps." no late repentance will avail for the salvation of their country unless justice is now proclaimed and practised;--justice in government and in the laws. their grondwet, or constitution, must be removed out of its place for ever; their unequal laws, and the administrative corruption which unequal laws inevitably foster, must be swept away, and be replaced by a very different constitution and very different laws. if this had been done during the two last decades of transvaal history, while untrammelled (as was desired) by british interference, the sincerity of this recent utterance would have deserved full credit, and would have been recognized as the beginning of a radical reformation. the following is from the last report of the aborigines protection society (jan., 1900). its present secretary leans towards a favourable judgment of the recent improvements in the policy of the transvaal, and condemns severely every act on the part of the english which does not accord with the principles of our constitutional law, and therefore this statement will not be regarded as the statement of a partisan: "it is laid down as a fundamental principle in the transvaal grondwet that there is no equality of rights between white men and blacks. in theory, if not in practice, the boers regard the natives, all of whom they contemptuously call kaffirs, whatever their tribal differences, pretty much as the ancient jews regarded the philistines and others whom they expelled from palestine, or used as hewers of wood and drawers of water, but with added prejudice due to the difference of colour. so it was in the case of the early dutch settlers, and so it is to-day, with a few exceptions, due mainly to the influence of the missionaries, whose work among the natives has from the first been objected to and hindered. it is only by social sufferance, and not by law, that the marriage of natives with christian rites is recognised, and it carries with it none of the conditions as regards inheritance and the like, which are prescribed by the dutch roman code in force with white men. as a matter of fact, natives have no legal rights whatever. if they are in the service of humane masters, mindful of their own interests and moral obligations, they may be properly lodged and fed, not overworked, and fairly recompensed; but from the cruelties of a brutal master, perpetrated in cold blood or a drunken fit, the native practically has no redress." the rev. john h. bovill, rector of the cathedral church, lorenço marquez, and sometime her majesty's acting consul there, has worked for five years in a district from which numbers of natives were drawn for work in the transvaal, has visited the transvaal from time to time, and is well acquainted with boers of all classes and occupations. he has given us some details of the working out--especially as regards the natives--of the principles of the grondwet or constitution of the transvaal. to us english, the most astonishing feature, to begin with, of this constitution, is that it places the power of the judiciary below that of the raad or legislative body. the judges of the highest court of law are not free to give judgment according to evidence before them and the light given to them. a vote of the raad, consisting of a mere handful of men in secret sitting, can at any time override and annul a sentence of the high court. this will perhaps be better understood if we picture to ourselves some great trial before lord russell and others of our eminent judges, in which any laws bearing on the case were carefully tested in connection with the principles of our constitution; that this supreme court had pronounced its verdict, and that the next day parliament should discuss, with closed doors, the verdict of the judges, and by a vote or resolution, should declare it unjust and annul it. let us imagine, to follow the matter a little further on the lines of transvaal justice, that our sovereign had power to dismiss at will from office any judge or judges who might have exercised independence of judgment and pronounced a verdict displeasing to parliament or to herself personally! such is law and justice in the transvaal; and that country is called a republic! "this is transvaal justice," says m. naville; "a mockery, an ingenious legalizing of tyranny. there are no laws, there are only the caprices of the raad. a vote in a secret sitting, that is what binds the judges, and according to it they will administer justice. the law of to-day will perhaps not be the law to-morrow. the fifteen members of the majority, or rather president kruger, who influences their votes, may change their opinion from one day to the next--it matters not; their opinion, formulated by a vote, will always be law. woe to the judge who should dare to mention the constitution or the code, for there is one: he would at once be dismissed by the president who appointed him." it was prescribed by the grondwet that no new law should be passed by parliament (the volksraad) unless notice of it had been given three months in advance, and the people had had the opportunity to pronounce upon it. this did not suit the president; accordingly when desirous of legalizing some new project of his own, he adopted the plan of bringing in such project as an addition or amendment to some existing law, giving it out as _no new law_, but only a supplementary clause. law no. 1 of 1897 was manipulated in this manner. by this law, the judges of the high court were formally deprived of the right to test the validity of any law in its relation to the constitution, and they were also compelled to accept as law, without question or reservation of any kind, any resolution passed at any time and under any circumstances by the volksraad. this law no. 1 of 1897 was passed through all its stages in three days, without being subjected in the first instance to the people. but i am especially concerned with what affects the natives. article 1 of this section says:--a native must not own fixed property. (2) he must not marry by civil or ecclesiastical process. (3) he must not be allowed access to civil courts in any action against a white man. article 9 of the grondwet is not only adhered to, but is exaggerated in its application as follows:--"the people shall not permit any equality of coloured persons with white inhabitants, neither in the church, nor in the state." "these principles" says mr. bovill, "are so engrained in the mind of an average boer that we can never expect anything to be done by the volksraad for the natives in this respect. it appears inconceivable," he continues, "that a government making any pretence of being a civilized power, at the end of the nineteenth century, should be so completely ignorant of the most elementary principles of good government for such a large number of its subjects." as to the access by the natives to the courts of law. "if you ask a native he will tell you that access to the law-courts is much too easy, but they are the criminal courts of the field cornets and landdrosts. he suffers so much from these, that he cannot entertain the idea that the higher courts are any better than the ordinary field cornets' or landdrosts'. however, there are times when with fear and trepidation he does appeal to a higher court. with what result? if the decision is in favour of the native, the burghers are up in arms, crying out against the injustice of a judgment given in favour of a black against a white man; burghers sigh and say that a great disaster is about to befall the state when a native can have judgment against a white man. the inequality of the blacks and superiority of the white (burghers) is largely discussed. motions are brought forward in the volksraad to prohibit natives pleading in the higher courts. such is the usual outcry. summary justice (?) by a landdrost or field cornet is all the boer would allow a native. no appeal should be permitted, for may it not lead to a quashing of the conviction? the landdrost is the friend of the boer, and he can always "square" him in a matter against a native. "it was only to prevent an open breach with england that these appeals to the higher courts were permitted in a limited degree."[33] no. 2.--the native marriage laws. "think," says mr. bovill, "what it would mean to our social life in england if we were a conquered nation, and the conquerors should say: 'all your laws and customs are abrogated; your marriage laws are of no consequence to us; you may follow or leave them as you please, but we do not undertake to support them, and you may live like cattle if you wish; we cannot recognise your marriage laws as binding, nor yet will we legalise any form of marriage among you.' such is in effect, the present position of the natives in the transvaal. "i occasionally took my holidays in johannesburg, and assisted the vicar, during which time i could take charge of christian native marriages, of which the state took no cognisance. a native may marry, and any time after leave his wife, but the woman would have no legal claim on him. he could marry again as soon as he pleased, and he could not be proceeded against either for support of his first wife or for bigamy. and so he might go on as long as he wished to marry or could get anyone to marry him. the same is applicable to all persons of colour, even if only slightly coloured--half-castes of three or four generations if the colour is at all apparent. all licenses for the marriage of white people must be applied for personally, and signed in the presence of the landdrost, who is very cautious lest half-castes or persons of colour should get one. colour is evidently the only test of unfitness to claim recognition of the marriage contract by the transvaal state. "the injustice of such a law must be apparent; it places a premium on vice.[34] it gives an excuse to any 'person of colour' to commit the most heinous offences against the laws of morality and social order, and protects such a one from the legal consequences which would necessarily follow in any other civilised state." mr. bovill has an instructive chapter on the "compound system," and the condition of native compounds. this is a matter which it is to be hoped will be taken seriously to heart by the chartered company, and any other company or group of employers throughout african mining districts." the compound system of huddling hundreds of natives together in tin shanties is the very opposite to the free life to which they are accustomed. if south african mining is to become a settled industry, we must have the conditions of the labour market settled, and also the conditions of living. we cannot expect natives to give up their free open-air style of living, and their home life. they love their homes, and suffer from homesickness as much as, or probably more than most white people. the reason so many leave their work after six months is that they are constantly longing to see their wives and children. many times have they said to me, 'it would be all right if only we could have our wives and families with us.'" "the result of this compound life is the worst possible morally.".... "we must treat the native, not as a machine to work when required under any conditions, but as a raw son of nature, very often without any moral force to control him and to raise him much above the lower animal world in his passions, except that which native custom has given him." the writer suggests that "native reserves or locations should be established on the separate mines, or groups of mines, where the natives can have their huts built, and live more or less under the same conditions as they do in their native kraals. if a native found that he could live under similar conditions to those he has been accustomed to, he will soon be anxious to save enough money to bring his wife and children there, and remain in the labour district for a much longer period than at present is the case. "it would be a distinct gain to the mining industry as well as to the native." mr. bovill goes into much detail on the subject of the "pass laws." i should much desire to reproduce his chapter on that subject, if it were not too long. that system must be wholly abolished, he says: "it is at present worse than any conditions under which slavery exists. it is a criminal-making law. brand a slave, and you have put him to a certain amount of physical pain for once, but penalties under the pass law system mean lashes innumerable at the direction of any boer field cornet or landdrost. it is a most barbarous system, as brutal as it is criminal-making, alone worthy of a boer with an exaggerated fear of and cowardly brutality towards a race he has been taught to despise." treating of the prohibition imposed on the natives as to the possession in any way or by any means of a piece of land, he writes: "many natives are now earning and saving large sums of money, year by year, at the various labour centres. they return home with every intention of following a peaceful life; why should they not be encouraged to put their money into land, and follow their 'peaceful pursuits' as well as any boer farmer? they are capable of doing it. besides, if they held fixed property in the state, it would be to their advantage to maintain law and order, when they had everything they possessed at stake. with no interest in the land, the tendency must always be to a nomadic life. they are as thoroughly well capable of becoming true, peaceful, and loyal citizens of the state as are any other race of people. their instincts and training are all towards law and order. their lives have been disciplined under native rule, and now that the white man is breaking up that rule, what is he going to give as a substitute? anarchy and lawlessness, or good government which tends to peace and prosperity? "we can only hope for better times, and a more humane government for the natives, to wipe out the wrong that has been done to both black and white under a bastard civilization which has prevailed in pretoria for the past fifteen years. the government which holds down such a large number of its subjects by treating them as cut-throats and outlaws, will one day repent bitterly of its sin of misrule."[35] * * * * * tyranny has a genius for creeping in everywhere, and under any and every form of government. this is being strikingly illustrated in these days. under the name of a republic, the traditions of a military oligarchy have grown up, and stealthily prevailed. when a nation has no recorded standard of guiding principles of government, it matters not by what name it may be called--empire, republic, oligarchy, or democracy--it may fall under the blighting influence of the tyranny of a single individual, or a wealthy clique, or a military despot. too much weight is given just now to mere names as applied to governments. the acknowledged principles which underlie the outward forms of government alone are vitally important, and by the adherence to or abdication of these principles each nation will be judged. the revered name of _republic_ is as capable of being dragged in the mire as that of the title of any other form of government. mere names and words have lately had a strange and even a disastrous power of misleading and deceiving, not persons only, but nations,--even a whole continent of nations. it is needful to beware of being drawn into conclusions leading to action by associations attaching merely to a name, or to some crystallized word which may sometimes cover a principle the opposite of that which it was originally used to express. such names and words are in some cases being as rapidly changed and remodelled as geographical charts are which represent new and rapidly developing or decaying groups of the human race. yet names are always to a large part of mankind more significant than facts; and names and appearances in this matter appeal to france and to switzerland, and in a measure to the american people, in favour of the boers. among the concessions made by lord derby in the convention of 1884, none has turned out to be more unfortunate than that of allowing the transvaal state to resume the title of the "south african republic." in south africa it embodied an impossible ideal; to the outside world it conveyed a false impression. the title has been the reason of widespread error with regard to the real nature of the transvaal government and of its struggle with this country. if "republican independence" had been all that mr. kruger was striving for, there would have been no war. he adopted the name, but not the spirit of a republic. the "independence" claimed by him, and urged even now by some of his friends in the british parliament, is shown by the whole past history of the transvaal to be an independence and a freedom which _involve the enslavement of other men._ a friend writes:--"in order to satisfy my own mind i have been looking in latin dictionaries for the correct and original meaning of 'impero,' (i govern,) and 'imperium.' the word 'empire' has an unpleasant ring from some points of view and to some minds. one thinks of roman emperors, domitian, nero, tiberius,--of the word 'imperious,' and of the french 'empire' under napoleon i. and napoleon iii. the latin word means 'the giving of commands.' all depends on whether the commands given are _good_, and the giver of them also good and wise. the ten commandments are in one sense 'imperial.' now, i think the word as used in the phrase _british empire_ has, in the most modern and best sense, quite a different savour or flavour from that of napoleon's empire, or the turkish or mahommedan empires of the past. it has come to mean the 'dominion of freedom' or the 'reign of liberty,' rather than the giving of despotic or tyrannical or oligarchic commands. in fact, our imperialism is freedom for all races and peoples who choose to accept it, whilst boer _republicanism_ is the exact opposite. how strangely words change their weight and value! "and yet there still remains the sense of 'command' in 'empire;' and in the past history of our government of the cape colony there has been too little wholesome command and obedience, and too much opportunism, shuffling off of responsibility, with self-sufficient ignorance and doctrinaire foolishness taking the place of knowledge and insight. want of courage is, i think, in short, at the bottom of the past mismanagement." * * * * * the assertion is repeatedly made that "england coveted the gold of the transvaal, and hence went to war." it is necessary it seems, again and again, to remind those who speak thus that england was not the invader. kruger invaded british territory, being fully prepared for war. england was not in the least prepared for war. this last fact is itself a complete answer to those who pretend that she was the aggressor. in regard to the assertion that "england coveted the gold of the transvaal," what is here meant by "england?" ours is a representative government. are the entire people, with their representatives in parliament and the government included in this assertion, or is it meant that certain individuals, desiring gold, went to the transvaal in search of it? the expression "england" in this relation, is vague and misleading. the search for gold is not in itself a legal nor a moral offence. but the inordinate desire and pursuit of wealth, becoming the absorbing motive to the exclusion of all nobler aims, is a moral offence and a source of corruption. wherever gold is to be found, there is a rush from all sides; among some honest explorers with legitimate aims, there are always found, in such a case, a number of unruly spirits, of scheming, dishonest and careless persons, the scum of the earth, cheats and vagabonds. the outlanders who crowded to the rand were of different nations, french, belgians and others, besides the english who were in a large majority. the presence and eager rush of this multitude of gold seekers certainly brought into the country elements which clouded the moral atmosphere, and became the occasion of deeds which so far from being typical of the spirit of "england" and the english people at large, were the very reverse, and have been condemned by public opinion in our country. but, admitting that unworthy motives and corrupting elements were introduced into the transvaal by the influx of strangers urged there by self-interest, it is strange that any should imagine and assert that the "corrupting influence of gold," or the lust of gold told upon the british alone. the disasters brought upon the transvaal seem to be largely attributable to the corrupting effect on president kruger and his allies in the government, of the sudden acquisition of enormous wealth, through the development, by other hands than his own, of the hidden riches within his country. what are the facts? in 1885 the revenue of the transvaal state was a little over £177,000. this rose, owing to the outlanders' labours, and the taxes exacted from them by the transvaal government to £4,400,000 (in 1899). thus they have increased in the proportion of 1 to 25. "if the admirers of the transvaal government, who place no confidence in documents emanating from english sources, will take the trouble to open the _almanack de gotha_, they will there find the financial report for 1897. there they will read that of these £4,400,000, salaries and emoluments amount to nearly one-quarter--we will call it £1,000,000,--that is, £40 per head per adult boer, for it goes without saying that in all this the outlanders have no share. if we remember that the great majority of the boers consist of farmers who do not concern themselves at all about the administration, and who consequently get no slice of the cake, we can judge of the size of the junks which president kruger and the chiefly foreign oligarchy on which he leans take to themselves. the president has a salary of £7,000--(the president of the swiss confederation has £600)--and besides that, what is called "coffee-money." this is his official income, but his personal resources do not end there. the same table of the _almanack de gotha_ shows a sum of nearly £660,000 entitled "other expenses." under this head are included secret funds, which in the budget are stated at a little less than £40,000 (more than even england has), but which always exceed that sum, and in 1896 reached about £200,000. secret service funds!--vile name and viler reality--should be unknown in the affairs of small nations. is not honesty one of the cardinal virtues which we should expect to find amongst small nations, if nowhere else? what can the chief of a small state of 250,000 inhabitants do with such a large amount of secret funds? "we can picture to ourselves what the financial administration of the boers must be in this plethora of money, provided almost entirely by the hated outlander. an example may be cited. the raad were discussing the budget of 1898, and one of the members called attention to the fact that for several years past advances to the amount of £2,400,000 had been made to various officials, and were unaccounted for. that is a specimen of what the boer _régime_ has become in this school of opulence."[36] m. naville continues:--"we do not consider the boers, as a people, to be infected by the corruption which rules the administration. the farmers who live far from pretoria have preserved their patriarchal virtues: they are upright and honest, but at the same time very proud, and impatient of every kind of authority.... they are ignorant, and read no books or papers--only the old testament; but kruger knew he could rouse these people by waving before them the spectre of england, and crying in their ears the word 'independence.' and this is what disgusts us, that under cover of principles so dear to us all, independence and national honour, these brave men are sent to the battlefield to preserve for a tyrannical and venal oligarchy the right to share amongst themselves, and distribute as they please, the gold which is levied on the work of foreigners." footnotes: [footnote 30: parliamentary blue book, 4194, 42.] [footnote 31: austral africa, chap. 4, pages 235-250.] [footnote 32: austral africa, p. 233 and on.] [footnote 33: natives under the transvaal flag. revd. john h. bovill.] [footnote 34: it is stated on the authority of _the sentinel_ (london, june, 1900), that mr. kruger was asked some years ago to permit the introduction in the johannesburg mining district of the state regulation of vice, and that mr. kruger stoutly refused to entertain such an idea. very much to his credit! yet it seems to me that the refusal to legalize native marriages comes rather near, in immorality of principle and tendency, to the legalizing of promiscuous intercourse.] [footnote 35: natives under the transvaal flag, by rev. j. bovill.] [footnote 36: la question du transvaal, by professor ed. naville, of geneva.] viii. the theology of the boers. exploitation of natives by capitalists. british colonizing.--its causes and nature. character of paul kruger as a ruler. the moral teachings of the war. our responsibilities. hasty judgments. denunciations of england by englishmen. the open book. my last word is for the native races. even in these enlightened days there seems to be in some minds a strange confusion as to the understanding of the principle of equality for which we plead, and which is one of the first principles laid down in the charter of our liberties. what is meant in that charter is _equality of all before the law_; not by any means social equality, which belongs to another region of political ideas altogether. a friend who has lived in south africa, and who has had natives working for and with him, tells me of this confusion of ideas among some of the more vulgar stamp of white colonists, who, my friend observes, amuse themselves by assuming a familiarity in intercourse with the natives, which works badly. it does not at all increase their respect for the white man, but quite the contrary, while it is as little calculated to produce self-respect in the native. my friend found the natives naturally respectful and courteous, when treated justly and humanely, in fact as a _gentleman_ would treat them. above all things, they honour a man who is just. they have a keen sense of justice, and a quick perception of the existence of this crowning quality in a man. livingstone said that he found that they also have a keen eye for a man of pure and moral life. the natives in the transvaal have never asked for the franchise, or for the smallest voice in the government. in their hearts they hoped for and desired simple legal justice; they asked for bread, and they received a stone. it does not seem desirable that they should too early become "full fledged voters." some sort of education test, some proof of a certain amount of civilization and instruction attained, might be applied with advantage; and to have to wait a little while for that does not seem, from the englishwoman's point of view at least, a great hardship, when it is remembered how long our agricultural labourers had to wait for that privilege, and that for more than fifty years english women have petitioned for it, and have not yet obtained it, although they are not, i believe, wholly uncivilized or uneducated. the theology of the boers has been much commented upon; and it is supposed by some that, as they are said to derive it solely from the old testament scriptures, it follows that the ethical teaching of those scriptures must be extremely defective. a swiss pastor writes to me: "it is time to rescue the old testament from the boer interpretation of it. we have not enough of old testament righteousness among us christians." this is true. those who have studied those scriptures intelligently see, through much that appears harsh and strange in the mosaic prescriptions, a wisdom and tenderness which approaches to the christian ideal, as well as certain severe rules and restrictions which, when observed and maintained, lifted the moral standard of the hebrew people far above that of the surrounding nations. when christ came on earth, he swept away all that which savoured of barbarism, the husk which often however, contained within it a kernel of truth capable of a great development. "ye have heard it said of old times," he reiterated, "_but i say unto you_"--and then he set forth the higher, the eternally true principles of action. yet if the transvaal teachers and their disciples had read impartially (though even exclusively) the old testament scriptures, they could not have failed to see how grossly they were themselves offending against the divine commands in some vital matters. i cite, as an example, the following commands, given by moses to the people, not once only, but repeatedly. had these commands been regarded with as keen an appreciation as some others whose teaching seems to have an opposite tendency, it is impossible that the natives should have been treated as they have been by boer law, or that slavery or serfdom should have existed among them for so many generations. the following are some of the often-repeated commands and warnings: ex. xii. _v_ 19.--"one law shall be to him that is homeborn, and unto the stranger that sojourneth among you." num. ix. _v_ 14.--"if a stranger shall sojourn among you, ... ye shall have one ordinance, both for the stranger, and for him that was born in the land." num. xv. _v_ 15.--"one ordinance shall be both for you of the congregation, and also for the stranger that sojourneth with you, an ordinance for ever in your generation: as ye are so shall the stranger be before the lord." verse 16.--"one law and one manner shall be for you, and for the stranger that sojourneth with you." lev. xix. _v_ 33.--"and if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not vex him." verse 34.--"but the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you, and thou shalt love him as thyself; for ye were strangers in the land of egypt." verse 35.--"ye shall do no unrighteousness in judgment, in mete-yard, in weight, or in measure." although the natives of the transvaal were the original possessors of the country, they have been reckoned by the boers as strangers and foreigners among them. they have treated them as the ancient jews treated all gentiles as for ever excluded from the commonwealth of israel,--until in the "fulness of time" they were forced by a great shock and terrible judgments--to acknowledge, with astonishment, that "god had also to the gentiles granted repentance unto life," and that they also had heard the news of the glorious emancipation of all the sons of god throughout the earth. not only is the non-payment, but even delay in the payment of wages condemned by the law of moses. is it possible that boer theologians, who quote scripture with so much readiness, have never read the following? lev. xix. _v_ 13.--"thou shalt not defraud thy neighbour, neither rob him: the wages of him that is hired shall not abide with thee all night until the morning." deut. xxiv. _v_ 14.--"thou shalt not oppress an hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy brethren, or of the strangers that are in thy land, within thy gates." verse 15.--"at his day thou shalt give him his hire, neither shall the sun go down upon it; for he is poor, and setteth his heart upon it: lest he cry against thee unto the lord, and it be sin unto thee." jer. xxii. _v_ 13.--"woe unto him that buildeth his house by unrighteousness, and his chambers by wrong; that useth his neighbour's service without wages, and giveth him not for his work." mal. iii. _v_ 5.--"and i will come near to you to judgment; and i will be a swift witness against ... those that oppress the hireling in his wages, the widow, and the fatherless, and that turn aside the stranger from his right, and fear not me, saith the lord of hosts." the following is from the new testament, but it might have come under the notice of boer theologians and law makers:-the epistle of st. james v. _v_ 4.--"behold the hire of the labourers who have reaped down your fields which is of you kept back by fraud, crieth; and the cries of them which have reaped are entered into the ears of the lord of sabaoth." verse 3.--"your gold and your silver is cankered, and the rust of them shall be a witness against you." jer. xxxv. _v_ 17.--"because ye have not proclaimed liberty every man to his neighbour, behold i proclaim liberty for you, saith the lord, to the sword, to the pestilence, and to the famine." i am aware that there will be voices raised at once in application to certain english people of the very commands here cited; and justly so, so far as that application is made to individuals or groups of persons who have transgressed not only biblical law but the law of our land in their dealings with native races; and the warning conveyed to us in such recriminations must not and, i believe, will not be unheeded. the following occurs in a number of the "ethical world," published early in the present year:--"we know that capitalists, left to themselves, would mercilessly exploit the labour of the coloured man. that is precisely the reason why they should not be left to themselves, but should be under the control of the british empire. it is a reason why crown colonies should supersede chartered companies; it is a reason for much that is often called 'shallow imperialism.' if the present war had been staved off, and if, by mere lapse of time and increase of numbers _without british intervention_, the outlanders had come to be the masters of the south african republic, they might have established a system of independent government quite as bad as that now in existence, though not hardened against reform by the same archaic traditions." to my mind some of the published utterances of the originator and members of the "chartered company" are not such as to inspire confidence in those who desire to see the essential principles of british law and government paramount wherever great britain has sway. there is the old contemptuous manner of speaking of the natives; and we have heard an expression of a desire to "eliminate the imperial factor." this elimination of the imperial factor is precisely that which is the least desired by those who see our imperialism to mean the continuance of obedience to the just traditions of british law and government. the granting of a charter to a company lends the authority (or the appearance of it) of the queen's name to acts of the responsible heads of that company, which may be opposed to the principles of justice established by british law; and such acts may have disastrous results. it is to be hoped that the present awakening on the subject of past failures of our government to enforce respect for its own principles may be a warning to all concerned against any transgression of those principles. continental friends with whom i have conversed on the subject of the british colonies have sometimes appeared to me to leave out of account some considerations special to the subject. they regard british colonization as having been accomplished by a series of acts of aggression, solely inspired by the love of conquest and desire for increased territory. this is an error. i would ask such friends to take a map of europe, or of the world, and steadily to regard it in connection with the following facts. our people are among the most prolific,--if not the most prolific,--of all the nations. energy and enterprise are in their nature, together with a certain love of free-breathing, adventure and discovery. now look at the map, and observe how small is the circumference of the british isles. "our empire has no geographical continuity like the russian empire; it is that larger venice with no narrow streets, but with the sea itself for a high-road. it is bound together by a moral continuity alone." what are our sons to do? must our immense population be debarred from passing through these ocean tracts to lands where there are great uninhabited wastes capable of cultivation? what shall we do with our sons and our daughters innumerable, as the ways become overcrowded in the mother land, and energies have not the outlets needful to develop them. shall we place legal restrictions on marriage, or on the birth of children, or prescribe that no family shall exceed a certain number? you are shocked,--naturally. it follows then that some members of our large british families must cross the seas and seek work and bread elsewhere. the highest and lowest, representing all ranks, engage in this kind of initial colonization. our present prime minister, a "younger son," went out in his youth,--as others of his class have done,--with his pickaxe, to australia, to rank for a time among "diggers" until called home by the death of the elder son, the heir to the title and estate. this necessity and this taste for wandering and exploring has helped in some degree to form the independence of character of our men, and also to strengthen rather than to weaken the ties of affection and kinship with the motherland. many men, "nobly born and gently nurtured," have thus learned self-dependence, to endure hardships, and to share manual labour with the humblest; and such an experience does not work for evil. then when communities have been formed, some sort of government has been necessitated. an appeal is made to the mother country, and her offspring have grown up more or less under her regard and care, until self-government has developed itself. the great blot on this necessary and natural expansion is the record (from time to time) of the displacement of native tribes by force and violence, when their rights seemed to interfere with the interests of the white man. of such action we have had to repent in the past, and we repent more deeply than ever now when our responsibilities towards natives races have been brought with startling clearness before those among us who have been led to look back and to search deeply into the meanings of the present great "history-making war." the personality of paul kruger stands out mournfully at this moment on the page of history. mr. fitzpatrick wrote of him in 1896, as follows:-"_l'etat c'est moi_, is almost as true of the old dopper president as it was of its originator; for in matters of external policy and in matters which concern the boer as a party, the president has his way as completely as any anointed autocrat. to anyone who has studied the boers and their ways and policy ... it must be clear that president kruger does more than represent the opinion of the people and execute their policy: he moulds them in the form he wills. by the force of his own strong convictions and prejudices, and of his indomitable will, he has made the boers a people whom he regards as the germ of the afrikander nation; a people chastened, selected, welded, and strong enough to attract and assimilate all their kindred in south africa, and thus to realize the dream of a dutch republic from the zambesi to cape town. "in the history of south africa the figure of the grim old president will loom large and striking,--picturesque as the figure of one who, by his character and will, made and held his people; magnificent as one who, in the face of the blackest fortune, never wavered from his aim or faltered in his effort ... and it maybe, pathetic too, as one whose limitations were great, one whose training and associations,--whose very successes had narrowed and embittered and hardened him;--as one who, when the greatness of success was his to take and to hold, turned his back on the supreme opportunity, and used his strength and qualities to fight against the spirit of progress, and all that the enlightenment of the age pronounces to be fitting and necessary to good government and a healthy state. "to an english nobleman, who in the course of an interview remarked, 'my father was a minister (of the queen),' the dutchman answered, 'and my father was a shepherd!' it was not pride rebuking pride; it was the ever present fact which would not have been worth mentioning but for the suggestion of the antithesis. he, too, was a shepherd,--a peasant. it may be that he knew what would be right and good for his people, and it may be not; but it is sure that he realized that to educate would be to emancipate, to broaden their views would be to break down the defences of their prejudices, to let in the new leaven would be to spoil the old bread, to give to all men the rights of men would be to swamp for ever the party which is to him greater than the state. when one thinks of the one century history of that people, much is seen which accounts for their extraordinary love of isolation, and their ingrained and passionate aversion to control; much, too, that draws to them a world of sympathy; and when one realizes the old president hemmed in once more by the hurrying tide of civilization, from which his people have fled for generations--trying to fight both fate and nature--standing up to stem a tide as resistless as the eternal sea--one realizes the pathos of the picture. but this is as another generation may see it. we are now too close--so close that the meaner details, the blots and flaws, are all most plainly visible, the corruption, the insincerity, the injustice, the barbarity--all the unlovely touches that will bye and bye be forgotten--sponged away by the gentle hand of time, when only the picturesque will remain."[37] and now that his sun is setting in the midst of clouds, and the great ambition of his life lies a ruin before him, and age, disappointment, and sorrow press heavily upon him, reproach and criticism are silenced. compassion and a solemn awe alone fill our hearts. a late awakening and repentance may not serve to maintain the political life of a party or a nation; but it is never too late for a human soul to receive for itself the light that may have been lacking for right guidance all through the past, and god does not finally withdraw himself from one who has ever sincerely called upon his name. i beg to be allowed to address a word, in conclusion, more especially to certain of my own countrymen,--among whom i count some of my valued fellow-workers of the past years. these latter have been very patient with me at times when i have ventured a word of warning in connection with the abolitionist war in which we have together been engaged, and perhaps they will bear with me now; but whether they will do so or not, i must speak that which seems to me the truth, that which is laid on my heart to speak. i refer especially to the temper of mind of those whose present denunciations of our country are apparently not restrained by considerations derived from a deeper and calmer view of the whole situation. when god's judgments are in the earth, "the people of the world will learn righteousness." are we learning righteousness? am i, are you, friends, learning righteousness? i desire, at least, to be among those who may learn something of the mind of god towards his redeemed world, even in the darkest hour. but you will tell me perhaps that there is nothing of the divine purpose in all this tribulation, that god has allowed evil to have full sway in the world for a time. others among us, as firmly believe that there is a divine permission in the natural vengeance which follows transgression, that we are never the sport of a senseless fate, and that god governs as well as reigns. "god's fruit of justice ripens slow; "men's souls are narrow; let them grow, "my brothers, we must wait." many among us are learning to see more and more clearly that the present "tribulation" is the climax of a long series,--through almost a century past,--of errors of which till now we had never been fully conscious,--of neglect of duty, of casting off of responsibility, of oblivion of the claims of the millions of native inhabitants of africa who are god's creatures and the redeemed of christ as much as we,--of ambitions and aims purely worldly, of a breathless race among nations for present and material gain. there are hasty judges it seems to me who look upon this war as the _initial crime_, a sudden and fatal error into which our nation has leapt in a fit of blind passion aroused by some quite recent event, and chiefly chargeable to certain individuals living among us to-day, who represent, in their view, a deplorable deterioration of the whole nation. the evils (which are not chiefly attributable to our nation) which have led up to this war, and made it from the human point of view, inevitable, are all ignored by these judges. like the servant in one of the parables of christ, who said "my lord delayeth his coming," (god is nowhere among us,) and began to beat and abuse his fellow-servants, they fall to inflicting on their fellow citizens unmeasured blows of the tongue and pen, because of this war. their hearts are so full of indignation that they cannot see anything higher or deeper than the material strife. they judge the combatants, our poor soldiers, the first victims, with little tenderness or sympathy. when king david was warned by god of approaching chastisement for his sins as a ruler, he pleaded that that chastisement should fall upon himself alone, saying, "these sheep (the people) what have they done?" we may ask the same of the rank and file of our army. what have they done? it was not they who ordained the war, and so far as personal influence may have gone to provoke war, many of those who sit at home at ease are more to blame than the men who believe that they are obeying the call of duty when they offer themselves for perils, for hardships, wounds, sickness, and lingering as well as sudden death. god's thoughts, however, are "not as our thoughts," nor "his ways as our ways." the record i might give of spiritual awakening and extraordinary blessing bestowed by him at this time in the very heart of this war on these, the "first victims" of it, would be received i fear with complete incredulity by those to whom i now address myself. be it so. the sources of my information are from "the front," they are many and they are trustworthy. it seems to me that in visiting the sins of the fathers on the children, or of rulers on the people, the great father of all, in his infinite love has said to these multitudes: "your bodies are given to destruction, but i have set wide open for you the door of salvation; you shall enter into my kingdom through death." and many have so entered.[38] the following is the expression of the thought of many of our humble people at home, who are neither "jingoes" nor yet impatient judges of others. the journal from which the extract is taken represents not the wealthy nor ambitious part of society, but that of the middle class of people, dependent on their own efforts for their daily bread, among whom we often find much good sense:--"some persons are humiliated for the sins and mistakes they see in other people. as for themselves, their one thought is 'if my advice had been taken the country would never have been in this pass!' this is the expression of an utterly un-christian self-conceit. others, again, take delight in recording the sins of the nation. that our ideals have been dimmed, that a low order of public morality has been openly defended in the highest places, and that the reckoning has come to us we fully believe. yet it is possible to judge the heart of our people far too harshly. it is a sound heart when all is said and done. we fix our eyes upon the great and wealthy offenders; but it must be remembered that the british people are not wealthy. the number of rich men is small. most of us, in fact, are very poor. even those who may be called well off depend on the continuance of health and opportunity for their incomes. the vast majority of those who believe that our cause is righteous are not exultant jingoes, neither are they millionaires. they are care-worn toilers, hard-worked fathers and mothers of children. they have in many cases given sons and brothers and husbands to our ranks; their hearts are aching with passionate sorrow for the dead. many more are enduring the racking agony of suspense. multitudes, besides, spend their lives in a hard fight to keep the wolf from the door. already they are pinched, and they know that in the months ahead their poverty will be deeper. yet they have no thought of surrender. they do not even complain, but give what they can from their scanty means to succour those who are touched still more nearly. it is quite possible to slander a nation when one simply intends to tell it plain truths. the british nation, we are inclined to believe, is a great deal better and sounder than many of its shrillest censors of the moment. and, for our part, we find among our patient, brave, and silent people great seed-beds of trust and hope."[39] these are noble words, because words of faith--worthy of the roman, varro--to whom his fellow-citizens presented a public tribute of gratitude because "he had not despaired of his country in a dark and troubled time." it can hardly be supposed that i underrate the horrors of war. i have imagination enough and sympathy enough to follow almost as if i beheld it with my eyes, the great tragedy which has been unfolded in south africa. the spirit of jingoism is an epidemic of which i await the passing away more earnestly than we do that of any other plague. i deprecate, as i have always done, and as strongly as anyone can do, rowdyism in the form of violent opposition to free speech and freedom of meeting. it is as wholly unjustifiable, as it is unwise. nothing tends more to the elucidation of truth than evidence and freedom of speech from all sides. good works on many hands are languishing for lack of the funds and zeal needful to carry them on. the public press, and especially the pictorial press, fosters a morbid sentiment in the public mind by needlessly vivid representations of mere slaughter; to all this may be added (that which some mourn over most of all) the drain upon our pockets,--upon the country's wealth. all these things are a part of the great tribulation which is upon us. they are inevitable ingredients of the chastisement by war. i see frequent allusions to the "deplorable state of the public mind," which is so fixed on this engrossing subject, the war, that its attention cannot be gained for any other. i hear our soldiers called "legalized murderers," and the war spoken of as a "hellish panorama,"[40] which it is a blight even to look upon. but,--i am impelled to say it at the risk of sacrificing the respect of certain friends,--there is to me another view of the matter. it is this. in this present woe, as in all other earthly events, god has something to say to us,--something which we cannot receive if we wilfully turn away the eye from seeing and the ear from hearing. it is as if--in anticipation of the last great judgment when "the books shall be opened,"--god, in his severity and yet in mercy (for there is always mercy in the heart of his judgments) had set before us at this day an open book, the pages of which are written in letters of blood, and that he is waiting for us to read. there are some who are reading, though with eyes dimmed with tears and hearts pierced with sorrow--whose attitude is, "speak, lord, for thy servant heareth." you "deplore the state of the public mind." may not the cloud of celestial witnesses deplore in a measure the state of _your_ mind which leads you to turn your back on the opened book of judgment, and refuse to read it? does your sense of duty to your country claim from you to send forth such a cry against your fellow-citizens and your nation that you have no ears for the solemn teachings of providence? might it not be more heroic in us all to cease to denounce, and to begin to enquire?--with humility and courage to look god in the face, and enquire of him the inner meanings of his rebukes, to ask him to "turn back the floods of ungodliness" which have swelled this inundation of woe, rather than to use our poor little besoms in trying to sweep back the atlantic waves of his judgments. it is good and necessary to protest against war; but at the same time, reason and experience teach that we must, with equal zeal, protest against other great evils, the accumulation of which makes for war and not for peace. war in another sense--moral and spiritual war--must be doubled, trebled, quadrupled, in the future, in order that material war may come to an end. we all wish for peace; every reasonable person desires it, every anxious and bereaved family longs for it, every christian prays for it. but _what_ peace? it is the peace of god which we pray for? the peace on earth, which he alone can bring about? his hand alone, which corrects, can also heal. we do not and cannot desire the peace which some of those are calling for who dare not face the open book of present day judgment, or who do not wish to read its lessons! such a peace would be a mere plastering over of an unhealed wound, which would break out again before many years were over. there seems to me a lack of imagination and of christian sympathy in the zeal which thrusts denunciatory literature into all hands and houses, as is done just now. it would, i think, check such action and open the eyes of some who adopt it, if they could see the look of pain, the sudden pallor, followed by hours and days of depression of the mourners, widows, bereaved parents, sisters and friends, when called upon to read (their hearts full of the thought of their beloved dead) that those who have fought in the ranks were morally criminal, legalized murderers, "full of hatred," actors in a "hellish panorama." some of these sufferers may not be much enlightened, but they know what love and sorrow are. would it not be more tender and tactful, from the christian point of view, to leave to them their consoling belief that those whom they loved acted from a sense of duty or a sentiment of patriotism; and not, just at a time of heart-rending sorrow, to press upon them the criminality of all and every one concerned in any way with war? i commend this suggestion to those who are not strangers to the value of personal sympathy and gentleness towards those who mourn. no, we are not yet looking upon hell! it may be, it _is_, an earthly purgatory which we are called to look upon; a place and an hour of purging and of purifying, such as we must all, nations and individuals alike, pass through, before we can see the face of god. mr. fullerton, speaking in the melbourne hall, leicester, on jan. 7th of this year, said:--"the valley of achor (trouble), may be a door of hope." "you say the transvaal belongs to the boers; i say it belongs to god. if it belongs specially to any, it belongs to the zulus and kaffirs, on whom, for 100 years, there have been inflicted wrongs worthy of arab slave dealers. what has the boer done to lift these people? nothing. as a missionary said the other day, 'a nation that lives amongst a lower race of people, and does not try to lift them, inevitably sinks.' the boers needed to be chastised; only thus could they be kept from sinking; only thus can there be hope for the native races. who shall chastise them? another nation, which god wishes also to chastise. is therefore god for one nation and not for another? may he not be for one, and for the other too? if both pray, must he refuse one? perhaps god is great enough to answer both, and bringing both through the fire, purge and teach them." it would have been bad for us if we had won an early or an easy victory. we should have been so lifted up with pride as to be an offence to high heaven. but we have gone and are going through deep waters, and the wounds inflicted on many hearts and many homes are not quickly healed. in this we recognise the hand of god, who is faithful in chastisement as in blessing. many have, no doubt, read, and i hope some have laid to heart, the words which lord rosebery recently addressed to the press, but which are applicable to us all at this juncture. they are wise and statesmanlike words. taking them as addressed to the nation and not to the press only, they run thus: "at such a juncture we must be sincere, we must divest ourselves of the mere catchwords and impulses of party.... we must be prepared to discard obsolete shibboleths, to search out abuse, to disregard persons, to be instant in pressing for necessary reforms--social, educational, administrative, and if need be, constitutional. "moreover, with regard to a sane appreciation of the destinies and responsibilities of empire, we stand at the parting of the ways. will britain flinch or falter in her world-wide task? how is she best to pursue it? what new forces and inspiration will it need? what changes does it involve? these are questions which require clear sight, cool courage, and freedom from formula."[41] in the conscientious study which i have endeavoured to make of the history of the past century of british rule in south africa, nothing has struck me more than the unfortunate effects in that colony of our varying policy inspired by political party spirit in the mother country; and consequently i hail with thankfulness this good counsel to "divest ourselves of mere catchwords and impulses of party, to discard obsolete shibboleths, to free ourselves from formula, and to disregard persons," even if these persons are or have been recognized leaders, and to abide rather by principles. "what new forces and inspiration do we need," lord rosebery asks, for the great task our nation has before it? this is a deep and far-reaching question. the answer to it should be sought and earnestly enquired after by every man and woman among us, who is worthy of the name of a true citizen. my last word must be on behalf of the natives. when, thirty years ago, a few among us were impelled to take up the cause of the victims of the modern white slavery in europe, we were told that in our pleadings for principles of justice and for personal rights, we ought not to have selected a subject in which are concerned persons who may deserve pity, but who, in fact, are not so important a part of the human family as to merit such active and passionate sympathy as that which moved our group. to this our reply was: "we did not _choose_ this question, we did not ourselves deliberately elect to plead for these persons. the question was _imposed upon us_, and once so imposed, we could not escape from the claims of the oppressed class whose cause we had been called to take up. and generally, (we replied,) the work of human progress has not consisted in protecting and supporting any outward forms of government, or the noble or privileged classes, but in undertaking the defence of the weak, the humble, of beings devoted to degradation and contempt, or brought under any oppression or servitude." it is the same now. my father was one of the energetic promoters of the abolition of slavery in the years before 1834, a friend of clarkson and wilberforce. the horror of slavery in every form, and under whatever name, which i have probably partly inherited, has been intensified as life went on. it is my deep conviction that great britain will in future be judged, condemned or justified, according to her treatment of those innumerable coloured races, heathen or partly christianized, over whom her rule extends, or who, beyond the sphere of her rule, claim her sympathy and help as a christian and civilizing power to whom a great trust has been committed. it grieves me to observe that (so far as i am able to judge) our politicians, public men, and editors, (with the exception of the editors of the "religious press,") appear to a great extent unaware of the immense importance of this subject, even for the future peace and stability of our empire, apart from higher interests. it _will_ be "imposed upon them," i do not doubt, sooner or later, as it has been imposed upon certain missionaries and others who regard the divine command as practical and sensible men should do: "go ye and teach _all_ nations." all cannot _go_ to the ends of the earth; but all might cease to hinder by the dead weight of their indifference, and their contempt of all men of colour. dr. livingstone rebuked the boers for contemptuously calling all coloured men kaffirs, to whatever race they belonged. englishmen deserve still more such a rebuke for their habit of including all the inhabitants of india, east and west, and of africa, who have not european complexions, under the contemptuous title of "niggers." race prejudice is a poison which will have to be cast out if the world is ever to be christianized, and if great britain is to maintain the high and responsible place among the nations which has been given to her. "it maybe that the kaffir is sometimes cruel," says one who has seen and known him,--"he certainly requires supervision. but he was bred in cruelty and reared in oppression--the child of injustice and hate. as the springbok is to the lion, as the locust is to the hen, so is the kaffir to the boer; a subject of plunder and leaven of greed. but the kaffir is capable of courage and also of the most enduring affection. he has been known to risk his life for the welfare of his master's family. he has worked without hope of reward. he has laboured in the expectation of pain. he has toiled in the snare of the fowler. yet shy a brickbat at him!--for he is only a kaffir! "however much the native may excel in certain qualities of the heart, still, until purged of the poison of racial contempt, that will be the expression of the practical conclusion of the white man regarding him; "shy a brickbat at him. he is only a nigger." a merely theoretical acknowledgment of the vital nature of this question, of the future of the native races and of missionary work will not suffice. the father of the great human family demands more than this. "is not this the fast that i have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?" (isaiah lviii. 6.) i have spoken, in this little book, as an abolitionist,--being a member of the "international federation for the abolition of the state regulation of vice." but i beg my readers to understand that i have here spoken for myself alone, and that my views must not be understood to be shared by members of the federation to which i refer. my abolitionist friends on the continent of europe, with very few exceptions, hold an opinion absolutely opposed to mine on the general question here treated. it is not far otherwise in england itself, where many of our abolitionists, including some of my oldest and most valued fellow-workers, stand on a very different ground from mine in this matter. i value friendship, and i love my old friends. but i love truth more. i have very earnestly sought to know the truth in the matter here treated. i have not rejected evidence from any side, having read the most extreme as well as the more moderate writings on different sides, including those which have reached me from holland, france, switzerland, germany, and the transvaal, as well as those published in england. having conscientiously arrived at certain conclusions, based on facts, and on life-long convictions in regard to some grave matters of principle, i have thought it worth while to put those conclusions on record. j.e.b. footnotes: [footnote 37: the transvaal from within. fitzpatrick.] [footnote 38: this may also be true of the boer combatants sacrificed for the sins of their rulers, but i prefer only to attest that of which i have full proof.] [footnote 39: "british weekly."] [footnote 40: an expression reported to have been used by mr. morley.] [footnote 41: _daily news_, june 4th, 1900.] the crime of the congo the crime of the congo by a. conan doyle author of the great boer war, etc., etc. new york doubleday, page & company mcmix all rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages, including the scandinavian copyright, 1909, by doubleday, page & company published, november, 1909 copyright, 1909, by a. conan doyle preface there are many of us in england who consider the crime which has been wrought in the congo lands by king leopold of belgium and his followers to be the greatest which has ever been known in human annals. personally i am strongly of that opinion. there have been great expropriations like that of the normans in england or of the english in ireland. there have been massacres of populations like that of the south americans by the spaniards or of subject nations by the turks. but never before has there been such a mixture of wholesale expropriation and wholesale massacre all done under an odious guise of philanthropy and with the lowest commercial motives as a reason. it is this sordid cause and the unctious hypocrisy which makes this crime unparalleled in its horror. the witnesses of the crime are of all nations, and there is no possibility of error concerning facts. there are british consuls like casement, thesiger, mitchell and armstrong, all writing in their official capacity with every detail of fact and date. there are frenchmen like pierre mille and félicien challaye, both of whom have written books upon the subject. there are missionaries of many races--harris, weeks and stannard (british); morrison, clarke and shepherd (american); sjoblom (swedish) and father vermeersch, the jesuit. there is the eloquent action of the italian government, who refused to allow italian officers to be employed any longer in such hangman's work, and there is the report of the belgian commission, the evidence before which was suppressed because it was too dreadful for publication; finally, there is the incorruptible evidence of the kodak. any american citizen who will glance at mark twain's "king leopold's soliloquy" will see some samples of that. a perusal of all of these sources of information will show that there is not a grotesque, obscene or ferocious torture which human ingenuity could invent which has not been used against these harmless and helpless people. this would, to my mind, warrant our intervention in any case. turkey has several times been interfered with simply on the general ground of humanity. there is in this instance a very special reason why america and england should not stand by and see these people done to death. they are, in a sense, their wards. america was the first to give official recognition to king leopold's enterprise in 1884, and so has the responsibility of having actually put him into that position which he has so dreadfully abused. she has been the indirect and innocent cause of the whole tragedy. surely some reparation is due. on the other hand england has, with the other european powers, signed the treaty of 1885, by which each and all of them make it responsible for the condition of the native races. the other powers have so far shown no desire to live up to this pledge. but the conscience of england is uneasy and she is slowly rousing herself to act. will america be behind? at this moment two american citizens, shepherd and that noble virginian, morrison, are about to be tried at boma for telling the truth about the scoundrels. morrison in the dock makes a finer statue of liberty than bartholdi's in new york harbour. attempts will be made in america (for the congo has its paid apologists everywhere) to pretend that england wants to oust belgium from her colony and take it herself. such accusations are folly. to run a tropical colony honestly without enslaving the natives is an expensive process. for example nigeria, the nearest english colony, has to be subsidized to the extent of $2,000,000 a year. whoever takes over the congo will, considering its present demoralized condition, have a certain expense of $10,000,000 a year for twenty years. belgium has not run the colony. it has simply sacked it, forcing the inhabitants without pay to ship everything of value to antwerp. no decent european power could do this. for many years to come the congo will be a heavy expense and it will truly be a philanthropic call upon the next owner. i trust it will not fall to england. attempts have been made too (for there is considerable ingenuity and unlimited money on the other side) to pretend that it is a question of protestant missions against catholic. any one who thinks this should read the book, "la question kongolaise," of the eloquent and holy jesuit, father vermeersch. he lived in the country and, as he says, it was the sight of the "immeasurable misery," which drove him to write. we english who are earnest over this matter look eagerly to the westward to see some sign of moral support of material leading. it would be a grand sight to see the banner of humanity and civilization carried forward in such a cause by the two great english-speaking nations. arthur conan doyle. introduction i am convinced that the reason why public opinion has not been more sensitive upon the question of the congo free state, is that the terrible story has not been brought thoroughly home to the people. mr. e. d. morel has done the work of ten men, and the congo reform association has struggled hard with very scanty means; but their time and energies have, for the most part, been absorbed in dealing with each fresh phase of the situation as it arose. there is room, therefore, as it seemed to me, for a general account which would cover the whole field and bring the matter up to date. this account must necessarily be a superficial one, if it is to be produced at such a size and such a price, as will ensure its getting at that general public for which it has been prepared. yet it contains the essential facts, and will enable the reader to form his own opinion upon the situation. should he, after reading it, desire to help in the work of forcing this question to the front, he can do so in several ways. he can join the congo reform association (granville house, arundel street, w. c.). he can write to his local member and aid in getting up local meetings to ventilate the question. finally, he can pass this book on and purchase other copies, for any profits will be used in setting the facts before the french and german public. it may be objected that this is ancient history, and that the greater part of it refers to a period before the congo state was annexed to belgium on august 10th, 1908. but responsibility cannot be so easily shaken off. the congo state was founded by the belgian king, and exploited by belgian capital, belgian soldiers and belgian concessionnaires. it was defended and upheld by successive belgian governments, who did all they could to discourage the reformers. in spite of legal quibbles, it is an insult to common sense to suppose that the responsibility for the congo has not always rested with belgium. the belgian machinery was always ready to help and defend the state, but never to hold it in control and restrain it from crime. one chance belgium had. if immediately upon taking over the state they had formed a judicial commission for the rigid inspection of the whole matter, with power to punish for all past offences, and to examine all the scandals of recent years, then they would have done something to clear the past. if on the top of that they had freed the land, given up the system of forced labour entirely, and cancelled the charters of all the concessionnaire companies, for the obvious reason that they have notoriously abused their powers, then belgium could go forward in its colonizing enterprise on the same terms as other states, with her sins expiated so far as expiation is now possible. she did none of these things. for a year now she has herself persevered in the evil ways of her predecessor. her colony is a scandal before the whole world. the era of murders and mutilations has, as we hope, passed by, but the country is sunk into a state of cowed and hopeless slavery. it is not a new story, but merely another stage of the same story. when belgium took over the congo state, she took over its history and its responsibilities also. what a load that was is indicated in these pages. the record of the dates is the measure of our patience. can any one say that we are precipitate if we now brush aside vain words and say definitely that the matter has to be set right by a certain near date, or that we will appeal to each and all of the powers, with the evidence before them, to assist us in setting it right? if the powers refuse to do so, then it is our duty to honour the guarantees which we made as to the safety of these poor people, and to turn to the task of setting it right ourselves. if the powers join in, or give us a mandate, all the better. but we have a mandate from something higher than the powers which obliges us to act. sir edward grey has told us in his speech of july 22nd, 1909, that a danger to european peace lies in the matter. let us look this danger squarely in the face. whence does it come? is it from germany, with her traditions of kindly home life--is this the power which would raise a hand to help the butchers of the mongalla and of the domaine de la couronne? is it likely that those who so justly admire the splendid private and public example of william ii. would draw the sword for leopold? both in the name of trade rights and in that of humanity germany has a long score to settle on the congo. or is it the united states which would stand in the way, when her citizens have vied with our own in withstanding and exposing these iniquities? or, lastly, is france the danger? there are those who think that because france has capital invested in these enterprises, because the french congo has itself degenerated under the influence and example of its neighbour, and because france holds a right of pre-emption, that therefore our trouble lies across the channel. for my own part, i cannot believe it. i know too well the generous, chivalrous instincts of the french people. i know, also, that their colonial record during centuries has been hardly inferior to our own. such traditions are not lightly set aside, and all will soon be right again when a strong colonial minister turns his attention to the concessionnaires in the french congo. they will remember de brazza's dying words: "our congo must not be turned into a mongalla." it is an impossibility that france could ally herself with king leopold, and certainly if such were, indeed, the case, the _entente cordiale_ would be strained to breaking. surely, then, if these three powers, the ones most directly involved, have such obvious reasons for helping, rather than hindering, we may go forward without fear. but if it were not so, if all europe frowned upon our enterprise, we would not be worthy to be the sons of our fathers if we did not go forward on the plain path of national duty. arthur conan doyle. windlesham, crowborough, september, 1909. contents page preface iii introduction vii how the congo free state came to be founded 3 the development of the congo state 9 the working of the system 22 first fruits of the system 27 further fruits of the system 39 voices from the darkness 46 consul roger casement's report 57 king leopold's commission and its report 68 the congo after the commission 87 some catholic testimony as to the congo 97 the evidence up to date 102 the political situation 114 some congolese apologies 118 solutions 123 appendix 127 the crime of the congo i how the congo free state came to be founded in the earlier years of his reign king leopold of belgium began to display that interest in central africa which for a long time was ascribed to nobility and philanthropy, until the contrast between such motives, and the actual unscrupulous commercialism, became too glaring to be sustained. as far back as the year 1876 he called a conference of humanitarians and travellers, who met at brussels for the purpose of debating various plans by which the dark continent might be opened up. from this conference sprang the so-called international african association, which, in spite of its name, was almost entirely a belgian body, with the belgian king as president. its professed object was the exploration of the country and the founding of stations which should be rest-houses for travellers and centres of civilization. on the return of stanley from his great journey in 1878, he was met at marseilles by a representative from the king of belgium, who enrolled the famous traveller as an agent for his association. the immediate task given to stanley was to open up the congo for trade, and to make such terms with the natives as would enable stations to be built and depôts established. in 1879 stanley was at work with characteristic energy. his own intentions were admirable. "we shall require but mere contact," he wrote, "to satisfy the natives that our intentions are pure and honourable, seeking their own good, materially and socially, more than our own interests. we go to spread what blessings arise from amiable and just intercourse with people who have been strangers to them." stanley was a hard man, but he was no hypocrite. what he said he undoubtedly meant. it is worth remarking, in view of the accounts of the laziness or stupidity of the natives given by king leopold's apologists in order to justify their conduct toward them, that stanley had the very highest opinion of their industry and commercial ability. the following extracts from his writings set this matter beyond all doubt: "bolobo is a great centre for the ivory and camwood powder trade, principally because its people are so enterprising." of irebu--"a venice of the congo"--he says: "these people were really acquainted with many lands and tribes on the upper congo. from stanley pool to upoto, a distance of 6,000 miles, they knew every landing-place on the river banks. all the ups and downs of savage life, all the profits and losses derived from barter, all the diplomatic arts used by tactful savages, were as well known to them as the roman alphabet to us.... no wonder that all this commercial knowledge had left its traces on their faces; indeed, it is the same as in your own cities in europe. know you not the military man among you, the lawyer and the merchant, the banker, the artist, or the poet? it is the same in africa, more especially on the congo, where the people are so devoted to trade." "during the few days of our mutual intercourse they gave us a high idea of their qualities--industry, after their own style, not being the least conspicuous." "as in the old time, umangi, from the right bank, and mpa, from the left bank, despatched their representatives with ivory tusks, large and small, goats and sheep, and vegetable food, clamorously demanding that we should buy from them. such urgent entreaties, accompanied with blandishments to purchase their stock, were difficult to resist." "i speak of eager native traders following us for miles for the smallest piece of cloth. i mention that after travelling many miles to obtain cloth for ivory and redwood powder, the despairing natives asked: 'well, what is it you do want? tell us, and we will get it for you.'" speaking of english scepticism as to king leopold's intentions, he says: "though they understand the satisfaction of a sentiment when applied to england, they are slow to understand that it may be a sentiment that induced king leopold ii. to father this international association. he is a dreamer, like his _confrères_ in the work, because the sentiment is applied to the neglected millions of the dark continent. they cannot appreciate rightly, because there are no dividends attaching to it, this ardent, vivifying and expansive sentiment, which seeks to extend civilizing influences among the dark races, and to brighten up with the glow of civilization the dark places of sad-browed africa." one cannot let these extracts pass without noting that bolobo, the first place named by stanley, has sunk in population from 40,000 to 7,000; that irebu, called by stanley the populous venice of the congo, had in 1903 a population of fifty; that the natives who used to follow stanley, beseeching him to trade, now, according to consul casement, fly into the bush at the approach of a steamer, and that the unselfish sentiment of king leopold ii. has developed into dividends of 300 per cent. per annum. such is the difference between stanley's anticipation and the actual fulfilment. untroubled, however, with any vision as to the destructive effects of his own work, stanley laboured hard among the native chiefs, and returned to his employer with no less than 450 alleged treaties which transferred land to the association. we have no record of the exact payment made in order to obtain these treaties, but we have the terms of a similar transaction carried out by a belgian officer in 1883 at palabala. in this case the payment made to the chief consisted of "one coat of red cloth with gold facings, one red cap, one white tunic, one piece of white baft, one piece of red points, one box of liqueurs, four demijohns of rum, two boxes of gin, 128 bottles of gin, twenty red handkerchiefs, forty singlets and forty old cotton caps." it is clear that in making such treaties the chief thought that he was giving permission for the establishment of a station. the idea that he was actually bartering away the land was never even in his mind, for it was held by a communal tenure for the whole tribe, and it was not his to barter. and yet it is on the strength of such treaties as these that twenty millions of people have been expropriated, and the whole wealth and land of the country proclaimed to belong, not to the inhabitants, but to the state--that is, to king leopold. with this sheaf of treaties in his portfolio the king of the belgians now approached the powers with high sentiments of humanitarianism, and with a definite request that the state which he was forming should receive some recognized status among the nations. was he at that time consciously hypocritical? did he already foresee how widely his future actions would differ from his present professions? it is a problem which will interest the historian of the future, who may have more materials than we upon which to form a judgment. on the one hand, there was a furtive secrecy about the evolution of his plans and the despatch of his expeditions which should have no place in a philanthropic enterprise. on the other hand, there are limits to human powers of deception, and it is almost inconceivable that a man who was acting a part could so completely deceive the whole civilized world. it is more probable, as it seems to me, that his ambitious mind discerned that it was possible for him to acquire a field of action which his small kingdom could not give, in mixing himself with the affairs of africa. he chose the obvious path, that of a civilizing and elevating mission, taking the line of least resistance without any definite idea whither it might lead him. once faced with the facts, his astute brain perceived the great material possibilities of the country; his early dreams faded away to be replaced by unscrupulous cupidity, and step by step he was led downward until he, the man of holy aspirations in 1885, stands now in 1909 with such a cloud of terrible direct personal responsibility resting upon him as no man in modern european history has had to bear. it is, indeed, ludicrous, with our knowledge of the outcome, to read the declarations of the king and of his representatives at that time. they were actually forming the strictest of commercial monopolies--an organization which was destined to crush out all general private trade in a country as large as the whole of europe with russia omitted. that was the admitted outcome of their enterprise. now listen to m. beernaert, the belgian premier, speaking in the year 1885: "the state, of which our king will be the sovereign, will be a sort of international colony. there will be no monopolies, no privileges.... quite the contrary: absolute freedom of commerce, freedom of property, freedom of navigation." here, too, are the words of baron lambermont, the belgian plenipotentiary at the berlin conference: "the temptation to impose abusive taxes will find its corrective, if need be, in the freedom of commerce.... no doubt exists as to the strict and literal meaning of the term 'in commercial matters.' it means ... the unlimited right for every one to buy and to sell." the question of humanity is so pressing that it obscures that of the broken pledges about trade, but on the latter alone there is ample reason to say that every condition upon which this state was founded has been openly and notoriously violated, and that, therefore, its title-deeds are vitiated from the beginning. at the time the professions of the king made the whole world his enthusiastic allies. the united states was the first to hasten to give formal recognition to the new state. may it be the first, also, to realize the truth and to take public steps to retract what it has done. the churches and the chambers of commerce of great britain were all for leopold, the one attracted by the prospect of pushing their missions into the heart of africa, the others delighted at the offer of an open market for their produce. at the congress of berlin, which was called to regulate the situation, the nations vied with each other in furthering the plans of the king of the belgians and in extolling his high aims. the congo free state was created amid general rejoicings. the veteran bismarck, as credulous as the others, pronounced its baptismal blessing. "the new congo state is called upon," said he, "to become one of the chief promoters of the work" (of civilization) "which we have in view, and i pray for its prosperous development and for the fulfilment of the noble aspirations of its illustrious founder." such was the birth of the congo free state. had the nations gathered round been able to perceive its future, the betrayal of religion and civilization of which it would be guilty, the immense series of crimes which it would perpetrate throughout central africa, the lowering of the prestige of all the white races, they would surely have strangled the monster in its cradle. it is not necessary to record in this statement the whole of the provisions of the berlin congress. two only will suffice, as they are at the same time the most important and the most flagrantly abused. the first of these (which forms the fifth article of the agreement) proclaims that "no power which exercises sovereign rights in the said regions shall be allowed to grant therein either monopoly or privilege of any kind in commercial matters." no words could be clearer than that, but the belgian representatives, conscious that such a clause must disarm all opposition, went out of their way to accentuate it. "no privileged situation can be created in this respect," they said. "the way remains open without any restriction to free competition in the sphere of commerce." it would be interesting now to send a british or german trading expedition up the congo in search of that free competition which has been so explicitly promised, and to see how it would fare between the monopolist government and the monopolist companies who have divided the land between them. we have travelled some distance since prince bismarck at the last sitting of the conference declared that the result was "to secure to the commerce of all nations free access to the centre of the african continent." more important, however, is article vi., both on account of the issues at stake, and because the signatories of the treaty bound themselves solemnly, "in the name of almighty god," to watch over its enforcement. it ran: "all the powers exercising sovereign rights or influence in these territories pledge themselves to watch over the preservation of the native populations and the improvement of their moral and material conditions of existence, and to work together for the suppression of slavery and of the slave trade." that was the pledge of the united nations of europe. it is a disgrace to each of them, including ourselves, the way in which they have fulfilled that oath. before their eyes, as i shall show in the sequel, they have had enacted one long, horrible tragedy, vouched for by priests and missionaries, traders, travellers and consuls, all corroborated, but in no way reformed, by a belgium commission of inquiry. they have seen these unhappy people, who were their wards, robbed of all they possessed, debauched, degraded, mutilated, tortured, murdered, all on such a scale as has never, to my knowledge, occurred before in the whole course of history, and now, after all these years, with all the facts notorious, we are still at the stage of polite diplomatic expostulations. it is no answer to say that france and germany have shown even less regard for the pledge they took at berlin. an individual does not condone the fact that he has broken his word by pointing out that his neighbour has done the same. ii the development of the congo state having received his mandate from the civilized world king leopold proceeded to organize the government of the new state, which was in theory to be independent of belgium, although ruled by the same individual. in europe, king leopold was a constitutional monarch; in africa, an absolute autocrat. there were chosen three ministers for the new state--for foreign affairs, for finances and for internal affairs; but it cannot be too clearly understood that they and their successors, up to 1908, were nominated by the king, paid by the king, answerable only to the king, and, in all ways, simply so many upper clerks in his employ. the workings of one policy and of one brain, as capable as it is sinister, are to be traced in every fresh development. if the ministers were ever meant to be a screen, it is a screen which is absolutely transparent. the origin of everything is the king--always the king. m. van ectvelde, one of the three head agents, put the matter into a single sentence: "c'est à votre majesté qu'appartient l'état." they were simply stewards, who managed the estate with a very alert and observant owner at their back. one of the early acts was enough to make observers a little thoughtful. it was the announcement of the right to issue laws by arbitrary decrees without publishing them in europe. there should be secret laws, which could, at any instant, be altered. the _bulletin officiel_ announced that "tous les actes du gouvernement qu'il y a intérêt à rendre publics seront insérés au _bulletin officiel_." already it is clear that something was in the wind which might shock the rather leathery conscience of a european concert. meanwhile, the organization of the state went forward. a governor-general was elected, who should live at boma, which was made the capital. under him were fifteen district commissaries, who should govern so many districts into which the whole country was divided. the only portion which was at that time at all developed was the semi-civilized lower congo at the mouth of the river. there lay the white population. the upper reaches of the stream and of its great tributaries were known only to a few devoted missionaries and enterprising explorers. grenfell and bentley, of the missions, with von wissman, the german, and the ever-energetic stanley, were the pioneers who, during the few years which followed, opened up the great hinterland which was to be the scene of such atrocious events. but the work of the explorer had soon to be supplemented and extended by the soldier. whilst the belgians had been entering the congo land from the west, the slave-dealing arabs had penetrated from the east, passing down the river as far as stanley falls. there could be no compromise between such opposite forces, though some attempt was made to find one by electing the arab leader as free state governor. there followed a long scrambling campaign, carried on for many years between the arab slavers on the one side and the congo forces upon the other--the latter consisting largely of cannibal tribes--men of the stone age, armed with the weapons of the nineteenth century. the suppression of the slave trade is a good cause, but the means by which it was effected, and the use of barbarians who ate in the evening those whom they had slain during the day, are as bad as the evil itself. yet there is no denying the energy and ability of the congo leaders, especially of baron dhanis. by the year 1894 the belgian expeditions had been pushed as far as lake tanganyika, the arab strongholds had fallen, and dhanis was able to report to brussels that the campaign was at an end, and that slave-raiding was no more. the new state could claim that they had saved a part of the natives from slavery. how they proceeded to impose upon all of them a yoke, compared to which the old slavery was merciful, will be shown in these pages. from the time of the fall of the arab power the congo free state was only called upon to use military force in the case of mutinies of its own black troops, and of occasional risings of its own tormented "citizens." master of its own house, it could settle down to exploit the country which it had won. in the meantime the internal policy of the state showed a tendency to take an unusual and sinister course. i have already expressed my opinion that king leopold was not guilty of conscious hypocrisy in the beginning, that his intentions were vaguely philanthropic, and that it was only by degrees that he sank to the depths which will be shown. this view is borne out by some of the earlier edicts of the state. in 1886, a long pronouncement upon native lands ended by the words: "all acts or agreements are forbidden which tend to the expulsion of natives from the territory they occupy, or to deprive them, directly or indirectly, of their liberty or their means of existence." such are the words of 1886. before the end of 1887, an act had been published, though not immediately put into force, which had the exactly opposite effect. by this act all lands which were not actually occupied by natives were proclaimed to be the property of the state. consider for a moment what this meant! no land in such a country is actually occupied by natives save the actual site of their villages, and the scanty fields of grain or manioc which surround them. everywhere beyond these tiny patches extend the plains and forests which have been the ancestral wandering places of the natives, and which contain the rubber, the camwood, the copal, the ivory, and the skins which are the sole objects of their commerce. at a single stroke of a pen in brussels everything was taken from them, not only the country, but the produce of the country. how could they trade when the state had taken from them everything which they had to offer? how could the foreign merchant do business when the state had seized everything and could sell it for itself direct in europe? thus, within two years of the establishment of the state by the treaty of berlin, it had with one hand seized the whole patrimony of those natives for whose "moral and material advantage" it had been so solicitous, and with the other hand it had torn up that clause in the treaty by which monopolies were forbidden, and equal trade rights guaranteed to all. how blind were the powers not to see what sort of a creature they had made, and how short-sighted not to take urgent steps in those early days to make it retrace its steps and find once more the path of loyalty and justice! a firm word, a stern act at that time in the presence of this flagrant breach of international agreement, would have saved all central africa from the horror which has come upon it, would have screened belgium from a lasting disgrace, and would have spared europe a question which has already, as it seems to me, lowered the moral standing of all the nations, and the end of which is not yet. having obtained possession of the land and its products, the next step was to obtain labour by which these products could be safely garnered. the first definite move in this direction was taken in the year 1888, when, with that odious hypocrisy which has been the last touch in so many of these transactions, an act was produced which was described in the _bulletin officiel_ as being for the "special protection of the black." it is evident that the real protection of the black in matters of trade was to offer him such pay as would induce him to do a day's work, and to let him choose his own employment, as is done with the kaffirs of south africa, or any other native population. this act had a very different end. it allowed blacks to be bound over in terms of seven years' service to their masters in a manner which was in truth indistinguishable from slavery. as the negotiations were usually carried on with the capita, or headman, the unfortunate servant was transferred with small profit to himself, and little knowledge of the conditions of his servitude. under the same system the state also enlisted its employees, including the recruits for its small army. this army was supplemented by a wild militia, consisting of various barbarous tribes, many of them cannibals, and all of them capable of any excess of cruelty or outrage. a german, august boshart, in his "zehn jahre afrikanischen lebens," has given us a clear idea of how these tribes are recruited, and of the precise meaning of the attractive word "libéré" when applied to a state servant. "some district commissary," he says, "receives instructions to furnish a certain number of men in a given time. he puts himself in communication with the chiefs, and invites them to a palaver at his residence. these chiefs, as a rule, already have an inkling of what is coming, and, if made wise by experience, make a virtue of necessity and present themselves. in that case the negotiations run their course easily enough; each chief promises to supply a certain number of slaves, and receives presents in return. it may happen, however, that one or another pays no heed to the friendly invitation, in which case war is declared, his villages are burned down, perhaps some of his people are shot, and his stores or gardens are plundered. in this way the wild king is soon tamed, and he sues for peace, which, of course, is granted on condition of his supplying double the number of slaves. these men are entered in the state books as 'libérés.' to prevent their running away, they are put in irons and sent, on the first opportunity, to one of the military camps, where their irons are taken off and they are drafted into the army. the district commissary is paid £2 sterling for every serviceable recruit." having taken the country and secured labour for exploiting it in the way described, king leopold proceeded to take further steps for its development, all of them exceedingly well devised for the object in view. the great impediment to the navigation of the congo had lain in the continuous rapids which made the river impassable from stanley pool for three hundred miles down to boma at the mouth. a company was now formed to find the capital by which a railway should be built between these two points. the construction was begun in 1888, and was completed in 1898, after many financial vicissitudes, forming a work which deserves high credit as a piece of ingenious engineering and of sustained energy. other commercial companies, of which more will be said hereafter, were formed in order to exploit large districts of the country which the state was not yet strong enough to handle. by this arrangement the companies found the capital for exploring, station building, etc., while the state--that is, the king--retained a certain portion, usually half, of the company's shares. the plan itself is not necessarily a vicious one; indeed, it closely resembles that under which the chartered company of rhodesia grants mining and other leases. the scandal arose from the methods by which these companies proceeded to carry out their ends--those methods being the same as were used by the state, on whose pattern these smaller organizations were moulded. in the meantime king leopold, feeling the weakness of his personal position in face of the great enterprise which lay before him in africa, endeavoured more and more to draw belgium, as a state, into the matter. already the congo state was largely the outcome of belgian work and of belgian money, but, theoretically, there was no connection between the two countries. now the belgian parliament was won over to advancing ten million francs for the use of the congo, and thus a direct connection sprang up which has eventually led to annexation. at the time of this loan king leopold let it be known that he had left the congo free state in his will to belgium. in this document appear the words, "a young and spacious state, directed from brussels, has pacifically appeared in the sunlight, thanks to the benevolent support of the powers that have welcomed its appearance. some belgians administer it, while others, each day more numerous, there increase their wealth." so he flashed the gold before the eyes of his european subjects. verily, if king leopold deceived other powers, he reserved the most dangerous of all his deceits for his own country. the day on which they turned from their own honest, healthy development to follow the congo lure, and to administer without any previous colonial experience a country more than sixty times their own size, will prove to have been a dark day in belgian history. the berlin conference of 1885 marks the first international session upon the affairs of the congo. the second was the brussels conference of 1889-90. it is amazing to find that after these years of experience the powers were still ready to accept king leopold's professions at their face value. it is true that none of the more sinister developments had been conspicuous, but the legislation of the state with regard to labour and trade was already such as to suggest the turn which affairs would take in future if not curbed by a strong hand. one power, and one only, holland, had the sagacity to appreciate the true situation, and the independence to show its dissatisfaction. the outcome of the sittings was various philanthropic resolutions intended to strengthen the new state in dealing with that slave trade it was destined to re-introduce in its most odious form. we are too near to these events, and they are too painfully intimate, to permit us to see humour in them; but the historian of the future, when he reads that the object of the european concert was "to protect effectually the aboriginal inhabitants of africa," may find it difficult to suppress a smile. this was the last european assembly to deal with the affairs of the congo. may the next be for the purpose of taking steps to truly carry out those high ends which have been forever spoken of and never reduced to practice. the most important practical outcome of the brussels conference was that the powers united to free the new state from those free port promises which it had made in 1885, and to permit it in future to levy ten per cent. upon imports. the act was hung up for two years owing to the opposition of holland, but the fact of its adoption by the other powers, and the renewed mandate given to king leopold, strengthened the position of the new state to such an extent that it found no difficulty in securing a further loan from belgium of twenty-five millions of francs, upon condition that, after ten years, belgium should have the option of taking over the congo lands as a colony. if in the years which immediately succeeded the brussels conference--from 1890 to 1894--a bird's-eye view could be taken of the enormous river which, with its tributaries, forms a great twisted fan radiating over the whole centre of africa, one would mark in all directions symptoms of european activity. at the lower congo one would see crowds of natives, impressed for the service and guarded by black soldiers, working at the railway. at boma and at leopoldsville, the two termini of the projected line, cities are rising, with stations, wharves and public buildings. in the extreme southeast one would see an expedition under stairs exploring and annexing the great district of katanga, which abuts upon northern rhodesia. in the furthest northeast and along the whole eastern border, small military expeditions would be disclosed, fighting against rebellious blacks or arab raiders. then, along all the lines of the rivers, posts were being formed and stations established--some by the state and some by the various concessionnaire companies for the development of their commerce. in the meantime, the state was tightening its grip upon the land with its products, and was working up the system which was destined to produce such grim results in the near future. the independent traders were discouraged and stamped out, belgium, as well as dutch, english and french. some of the loudest protests against the new order may be taken from belgian sources. everywhere, in flagrant disregard of the treaty of berlin, the state proclaimed itself to be the sole landlord and the sole trader. in some cases it worked its own so-called property, in other cases it leased it. even those who had striven to help king leopold in the earlier stages of his enterprise were thrown overboard. major parminter, himself engaged in trade upon the congo, sums up the situation in 1902 as follows: "to sum up, the application of the new decrees of the government signifies this: that the state considers as its private property the whole of the congo basin, excepting the sites of the natives' villages and gardens. it decrees that all the products of this immense region are its private property, and it monopolizes the trade in them. as regards the primitive proprietors, the native tribes, they are dispossessed by a simple circular; permission is graciously granted to them to collect such products, but only on condition that they bring them for sale to the state for whatever the latter may be pleased to give them. as regards alien traders, they are prohibited in all this territory from trading with the natives." everywhere there were stern orders--to the natives on the one hand, that they had no right to gather the products of their own forests; to independent traders on the other hand, that they were liable to punishment if they bought anything from the natives. in january, 1892, district commissary baert wrote: "the native of the district of ubangi-welle are not authorized to gather rubber. it has been notified to them that they can only receive permission to do so on condition that they gather the produce for the exclusive benefit of the state." captain le marinel, a little later, is even more explicit: "i have decided," he says, "to enforce rigorously the rights of the state over its domain, and, in consequence, cannot allow the natives to convert to their own profit, or to sell to others, any part of the rubber or ivory forming the fruits of the domain. traders who purchase, or attempt to purchase, such fruits of this domain from the natives--which fruits the state only authorizes the natives to gather subject to the condition that they are brought to it--render themselves, in my opinion, guilty of receiving stolen goods, and i shall denounce them to the judicial authorities, so that proceedings may be taken against them." this last edict was in the bangala district, but it was followed at once by another from the more settled equateur district, which shows that the strict adoption of the system was universal. in may, 1892, lieutenant lemaire proclaims: "considering that no concession has been granted to gather rubber in the domains of the state within this district, (1) natives can only gather rubber on condition of selling the same to the state; (2) any person or persons or vessels having in his or their possession, or on board, more than one kilogramme of rubber will have a _procèsverbal_ drawn up against him, or them, or it; and the ship can be confiscated without prejudice to any subsequent proceedings." the sight of these insignificant lieutenants and captains, who are often non-commissioned officers of the belgian army, issuing proclamations which were in distinct contradiction to the expressed will of all the great powers of the world, might at the time have seemed ludicrous; but the history of the next seventeen years was to prove that a small malignant force, driven on by greed, may prove to be more powerful than a vague general philanthropy, strong only in good intentions and platitudes. during these years--from 1890 to 1895--whatever indignation might be felt among traders over the restrictions placed upon them, the only news received by the general public from the congo free state concerned the founding of new stations, and the idea prevailed that king leopold's enterprise was indeed working out upon the humanitarian lines which had been originally planned. then, for the first time, incidents occurred which gave some glimpse of the violence and anarchy which really prevailed. the first of these, so far as great britain is concerned, lay in the treatment of natives from sierra leone, lagos, and other british settlements, who had been engaged by the belgians to come to congoland and help in railway construction and other work. coming from the settled order of such a colony as sierra leone or lagos, these natives complained loudly when they found themselves working side by side with impressed congolese, and under the discipline of the armed sentinels of the force publique. they were discontented and the discontent was met by corporal punishment. the matter grew to the dimensions of a scandal. in answer to a question asked in the house of commons on march 12th, 1896, mr. chamberlain, as secretary of state for the colonies, stated that complaints had been received of these british subjects having been employed without their consent as soldiers, and of their having been cruelly flogged, and, in some cases, shot; and he added: "they were engaged with the knowledge of her majesty's representatives, and every possible precaution was taken in their interests; but, in consequence of the complaints received, the recruitment of labourers for the congo has been prohibited." this refusal of the recruitment of labourers by great britain was the first public and national sign of disapproval of congolese methods. a few years later, a more pointed one was given, when the italian war ministry refused to allow their officers to serve with the congo forces. early in 1895 occurred the stokes affair, which moved public opinion deeply, both in this country and in germany. charles henry stokes was an englishman by birth, but he resided in german east africa, was the recipient of a german decoration for his services on behalf of german colonization, and formed his trading caravans from a german base, with east african natives as his porters. he had led such a caravan over the congo state border, when he was arrested by captain lothaire, an officer in command of some congolese troops. the unfortunate stokes may well have thought himself safe as the subject of one great power and the agent of another, but he was tried instantly in a most informal manner upon a charge of selling guns to the natives, was condemned, and was hanged on the following morning. when captain lothaire reported his proceedings to his superiors they signified their approbation by promoting him to the high rank of commissaire-général. the news of this tragedy excited as much indignation in berlin as in london. faced with the facts, the representatives of the free state in brussels--that is, the agents of the king--were compelled to admit the complete illegality of the whole incident, and could only fall back upon the excuse that lothaire's action was _bona-fide_, and free from personal motive. this is by no means certain, for as baron von marschall pointed out to the acting british ambassador at berlin, stokes was known to be a successful trader in ivory, exporting it by the east route, and so depriving the officers of the congo government of a ten per cent. commission, which would be received by them if it were exported by the west route. "this was the reason," the report continued, quoting the german statesman's words, "that he had been done away with, and not on account of an alleged sale of arms to arabs, his death being, in fact, not an act of justice, but one of commercial protection, neither more nor less." this was one reading of the situation. whether it was a true one or not, there could be no two opinions as to the illegality of the proceedings. under pressure from england, lothaire was tried at boma and acquitted. he was again, under the same pressure, tried at brussels, when the prosecuting counsel thought it consistent with his duty to plead for an acquittal and the proceedings became a fiasco. there the matter was allowed to remain. a blue book of 188 pages is the last monument to charles henry stokes, and his executioner returned to high office in the congo free state, where his name soon recurred in the accounts of the violent and high-handed proceedings which make up the history of that country. he was appointed director of the antwerp society for the commerce of the congo--an appointment for which king leopold must have been responsible--and he managed the affairs of that company until he was implicated in the mongalla massacres, of which more will be said hereafter. it has been necessary to describe the case of stokes, because it is historical, but nothing is further from my intention than to address national _amour propre_ in the matter. it was a mere accident that stokes was an englishman, and the outrage remains the same had he been a citizen of any state. the cause i plead is too broad, and also too lofty, to be supported by any narrower appeals than those which may be addressed to all humanity. i will proceed to describe a case which occurred a few years later to show that men of other nationalities suffered as well as the english. stokes, the englishman, was killed, and his death, it was said by some congolese apologists, was due to his not having, after his summary trial, announced that he would lodge an immediate appeal to the higher court at boma. rabinck, the austrian, the victim of similar proceedings, did appeal to the higher court at boma, and it is interesting to see what advantage he gained by doing so. rabinck was, as i have said, an austrian from olmutz, a man of a gentle and lovable nature, popular with all who knew him, and remarkable, as several have testified, for his just and kindly treatment of the natives. he had, for some years, traded with the people of katanga, which is the southeastern portion of the congo state where it abuts upon british central africa. the natives were at the time in arms against the belgians, but rabinck had acquired such influence among them that he was still able to carry on his trade in ivory and rubber for which he held a permit from the katanga company. shortly after receiving this permit, for which he had paid a considerable sum, certain changes were made in the company by which the state secured a controlling influence in it. a new manager, major weyns, appeared, who represented the new régime, superseding m. lévêque, who had sold the permits in the name of the original company. major weyns was zealous that the whole trade of the country should belong to the concessionnaire company, which was practically the government, according to the usual, but internationally illegal, habit of the state. to secure this trade, the first step was evidently to destroy so well-known and successful a private trader as m. rabinck. in spite of his permits, therefore, a charge was trumped up against him of having traded illegally in rubber--an offence which, even if he had no permit, was an impossibility in the face of that complete freedom of trade which was guaranteed by the treaty of berlin. the young austrian could not bring himself to believe that the matter was serious. his letters are extant, showing that he regarded the matter as so preposterous that he could not feel any fears upon the subject. he was soon to be undeceived, and his eyes were opened too late to the character of the men and the organization with which he was dealing. major weyns sat in court-martial upon him. the offence with which he was charged, dealing illegally in rubber, was one which could only be punished by a maximum imprisonment of a month. this would not serve the purpose in view. major weyns within forty minutes tried the case, condemned the prisoner, and sentenced him to a year's imprisonment. there was an attempt to excuse this monstrous sentence afterward by the assertion that the crime punished was that of selling guns to the natives, but as a matter of fact there was at the time no mention of anything of the sort, as is proved by the existing minutes of the trial. rabinck naturally appealed against such a sentence. he would have been wiser had he submitted to it in the nearest guard-house. in that case he might possibly have escaped with his life. in the other, he was doomed. "he will go," said major weyns, "on such a nice little voyage that he will act like this no more, and others will take example from it." the voyage in question was the two thousand miles which separated katanga from the appeal court at boma. he was to travel all this way under the sole escort of black soldiers, who had their own instructions. the unfortunate man felt that he could never reach his destination alive. "rumours have it," he wrote to his relatives, "that europeans who have been taken are poisoned, so if i disappear without further news you may guess what has become of me." nothing more was heard from him save two agonized letters, begging officials to speed him on his way. he died, as he had foreseen, on the trip down the congo, and was hurriedly buried in a wayside station when two hours more would have brought the body to leopoldville. if it is possible to add a darker shadow to the black business it lies in the fact that the apologists of the state endeavoured to make the world believe that their victim's death was due to his own habit of taking morphia. the fact is denied by four creditable witnesses, who knew him well, but most of all is it denied by the activity and energy which had made him one of the leading traders of central africa--too good a trader to be allowed open competition with king leopold's huge commercial monopoly. as a last and almost inconceivable touch, the whole of the dead man's caravans and outfits, amounting to some £15,000, were seized by those who had driven him to his death, and by the last reports neither his relatives nor his creditors have received any portion of this large sum. consider the whole story and say if it is exaggeration to state that gustav maria rabinck was robbed and murdered by the congo free state. having shown in these two examples the way in which the congo free state has dared to treat the citizens of european states who have traded within her borders, i will now proceed to detail, in chronological order, some account of the dark story of that state's relations to the subject races, for whose moral and material advantage we and other european powers have answered. for every case i chronicle there are a hundred which are known, but which cannot here be dealt with. for every one known, there are ten thousand, the story of which never came to europe. consider how vast is the country, and how few the missionaries or consuls who alone would report such matters. consider also that every official of the congo state is sworn neither at the time nor _afterward_ to reveal any matter that may have come to his knowledge. consider, lastly, that the missionary or consul acts as a deterrent, and that it is in the huge stretch of country where neither are to be found that the agent has his own unfettered way. with all these considerations, is it not clear that all the terrible facts which we know are but the mere margin of that welter of violence and injustice which the jesuit, father vermeersch, has summed up in the two words, "immeasurable misery!" iii the working of the system having claimed, as i have shown, the whole of the land, and therefore the whole of its products, the state--that is, the king--proceeded to construct a system by which these products could be gathered most rapidly and at least cost. the essence of this system was that the people who had been dispossessed (ironically called "citizens") were to be forced to gather, for the profit of the state, those very products which had been taken from them. this was to be effected by two means; the one, taxation, by which an arbitrary amount, ever growing larger until it consumed almost their whole lives in the gathering, should be claimed for nothing. the other, so-called barter by which the natives were paid for the stuff exactly what the state chose to give, and in the form the state chose to give it, there being no competition allowed from any other purchaser. this remuneration, ridiculous in value, took the most absurd shape, the natives being compelled to take it, whatever the amount, and however little they might desire it. consul thesiger, in 1908, describing their so-called barter, says: "the goods he proceeds to distribute, giving a hat to one man, or an iron hoe-head to another, and so on. each recipient is then at the end of a month responsible for so many balls of rubber. no choice of the objects is given, no refusal is allowed. if any one makes any objection, the stuff is thrown down at his door, and whether it is taken or left, the man is responsible for so many balls at the end of the month. the total amounts are fixed by the agents at the maximum which the inhabitants are capable of producing." but is it not clear that no natives, especially tribes who, as stanley has recorded, had remarkable aptitude for trade, would do business at all upon such terms? that is just where the system came in. by this system some two thousand white agents were scattered over the free state to collect the produce. these whites were placed in ones and twos in the more central points, and each was given a tract of country containing a certain number of villages. by the help of the inmates he was to gather the rubber, which was the most valuable asset. these whites, many of whom were men of low _morale_ before they left europe, were wretchedly paid, the scale running from 150 to 300 francs a month. this pay they might supplement by a commission or bonus on the amount of rubber collected. if their returns were large it meant increased pay, official praise, a more speedy return to europe, and a better chance of promotion. if, on the other hand, the returns were small, it meant poverty, harsh reproof and degradation. no system could be devised by which a body of men could be so driven to attain results at any cost. it is not to the absolute discredit of belgians that such an existence should have demoralized them, and, indeed, there were other nationalities besides belgians in the ranks of the agents. i doubt if englishmen, americans, or germans could have escaped the same result had they been exposed in a tropical country to similar temptations. and now, the two thousand agents being in place, and eager to enforce the collection of rubber upon very unwilling natives, how did the system intend that they should set about it? the method was as efficient as it was absolutely diabolical. each agent was given control over a certain number of savages, drawn from the wild tribes, but armed with firearms. one or more of these was placed in each village to ensure that the villagers should do their task. these are the men who are called "capitas," or head-men in the accounts, and who are the actual, though not the moral, perpetrators of so many horrible deeds. imagine the nightmare which lay upon each village while this barbarian squatted in the midst of it. day or night they could never get away from him. he called for palm wine. he called for women. he beat them, mutilated them, and shot them down at his pleasure. he enforced public incest in order to amuse himself by the sight. sometimes they plucked up spirit and killed him. the belgian commission records that 142 capitas had been killed in seven months in a single district. then came the punitive expedition, and the destruction of the whole community. the more terror the capita inspired, the more useful he was, the more eagerly the villagers obeyed him, and the more rubber yielded its commission to the agent. when the amount fell off, then the capita was himself made to feel some of those physical pains which he had inflicted upon others. often the white agent far exceeded in cruelty the barbarian who carried out his commissions. often, too, the white man pushed the black aside, and acted himself as torturer and executioner. as a rule, however, the relationship was as i have stated, the outrages being actually committed by the capitas, but with the approval of, and often in the presence of, their white employers. it would be absurd to suppose that the agents were all equally merciless, and that there were not some who were torn in two by the desire for wealth and promotion on the one side and the horror of their daily task upon the other. here are two illustrative extracts from the letters of lieutenant tilkens, as quoted by mr. vandervelde in the debate in the belgian chamber: "the steamer _v. d. kerkhove_ is coming up the nile. it will require the colossal number of fifteen hundred porters--unhappy blacks! i cannot think of them. i ask myself how i shall find such a number. if the roads were passable it would make some difference, but they are hardly cleared of morasses where many will meet their death. hunger and weariness will make an end of many more in the eight days' march. how much blood will the transport make to flow? already i have had to make war three times against the chieftains who will not take part in this work. the people prefer to die in the forest instead of doing this work. if a chieftain refuses, it is war, and this horrible war--perfect firearms against spear and lance. a chieftain has just left me with the complaint: 'my village is in ruins, my women are killed.' but what can i do? i am often compelled to put these unhappy chieftains into chains until they collect one or two hundred porters. very often my soldiers find the villages empty, then they seize the women and children." to his mother he writes: "com. verstraeten visited my station and highly congratulated me. he said the attitude of his report hung upon the quantity of rubber i would bring. my quantity rose from 360 kilos in september to 1,500 in october, and from january it will be 4,000 per month, which gives me 500 francs over my pay. am i not a lucky fellow? and if i continue, in two years i shall have reached an additional 12,000 francs." but a year later he writes in a different tone to major leussens: "i look forward to a general rising. i warned you before, i think, already in my last letter. the cause is always the same. the natives are weary of the hitherto _régime_--transport labour, collection of rubber, preparation of food stores for blacks and whites. again for three months i have had to fight with only ten days' rest. i have 152 prisoners. for two years now i have been carrying on war in this neighbourhood. but i cannot say i have subjected the people. they prefer to die. what can i do? i am paid to do my work, i am a tool in the hands of my superiors, and i follow orders as discipline requires." let us consider now for an instant the chain of events which render such a situation not only possible, but inevitable. the state is run with the one object of producing revenue. for this end all land and its produce are appropriated. how, then, is this produce to be gathered? it can only be by the natives. but if the natives gather it they must be paid their price, which will diminish profits, or else they will refuse to work. then they must be made to work. but the agents are too few to make them work. then they must employ such sub-agents as will strike most terror into the people. but if these sub-agents are to make the people work all the time, then they must themselves reside in the villages. so a capita must be sent as a constant terror to each village. is it not clear that these steps are not accidental, but are absolutely essential to the original idea? given the confiscation of the land, all the rest must logically follow. it is utterly futile, therefore, to imagine that any reform can set matters right. such a thing is impossible. until unfettered trade is unconditionally restored, as it now exists in every german and english colony, it is absolutely out of the question that any specious promises or written decrees can modify the situation. but, on the other hand, if trade be put upon this natural basis, then for many years the present owners of the congo land, instead of sharing dividends, must pay out at least a million a year to administer the country, exactly as england pays half a million a year to administer the neighbouring land of nigeria. to grasp that fact is to understand the root of the whole question. and one more point before we proceed to the dark catalogue of the facts. where did the responsibility for these deeds of blood, these thousands of cold-blooded murders lie? was it with the capita? he was a cannibal and a ruffian, but if he did not inspire terror in the village he was himself punished by the agent. was it, then, with the agent? he was a degraded man, and yet, as i have already said, no men could serve on such terms in a tropical country without degradation. he was goaded and driven to crime by the constant clamour from those above him. was it, then, with the district commissary? he had reached a responsible and well-paid post, which he would lose if his particular district fell behind in the race of production. was it, then, with the governor-general at boma? he was a man of a hardened conscience, but for him also there was mitigation. he was there for a purpose with definite orders from home which it was his duty to carry through. it would take a man of exceptional character to throw up his high position, sacrifice his career, and refuse to carry out the evil system which had been planned before he was allotted a place in it. where, then, was the guilt? there were half a dozen officials in brussels who were, as shown already, so many bailiffs paid to manage a property upon lines laid down for them. trace back the chain from the red-handed savage, through the worried, bilious agent, the pompous commissary, the dignified governor-general, the smooth diplomatist, and you come finally, without a break, and without a possibility of mitigation or excuse, up the cold, scheming brain which framed and drove the whole machine. it is upon the king, always the king, that the guilt must lie. he planned it, knowing the results which must follow. they did follow. he was well informed of it. again and again, and yet again, his attention was drawn to it. a word from him would have altered the system. the word was never said. there is no possible subterfuge by which the moral guilt can be deflected from the head of the state, the man who went to africa for the freedom of commerce and the regeneration of the native. iv first fruits of the system the first testimony which i shall cite is that of mr. glave, which covers the years 1893 up to his death in 1895. mr. glave was a young englishman, who had been for six years in the employ of the state, and whose character and work were highly commended by stanley. four years after the expiration of his engagement he travelled as an independent man right across the whole country, from tanganyika in the east to matadi near the mouth of the river, a distance of 2,000 miles. the agent and rubber systems were still in their infancy, but already he remarked on every side that violence and disregard of human life which were so soon to grow to such proportions. remember that he was himself a stanleyman, a pioneer and a native trader, by no means easy to shock. here are some of his remarks as taken from his diary. dealing with the release of slaves by the belgians, for which so much credit has been claimed, he says (_cent. mag._, vol. 53): "they are supposed to be taken out of slavery and freed, but i fail to see how this can be argued out. they are taken from their villages and shipped south, to be soldiers, workers, etc., on the state stations, and what were peaceful families have been broken up, and the different members spread about the place. they have to be made fast and guarded for transportation, or they would all run away. this does not look as though the freedom promised had any seductive prospects. the young children thus 'liberated' are handed over to the french mission stations, where they receive the kindest care, but nothing justifies this form of serfdom. i can understand the state compelling natives to do a certain amount of work for a certain time; but to take people forcibly from their homes, and despatch them here and there, breaking up families, is not right. i shall learn more about this on the way and at kabambare. if these conditions are to exist, i fail to see how the anti-slavery movement is to benefit the native." with regard to the use of barbarous soldiers he says: "state soldiers are also employed without white officers. this should not be allowed, for the black soldiers do not understand the reason of the fighting, and instead of submission being sought, often the natives are massacred or driven away into the hill.... but the black soldiers are bent on fighting and raiding; they want no peaceful settlement. they have good rifles and ammunition, realize their superiority over the natives with their bows and arrows, and they want to shoot and kill and rob. black delights to kill black, whether the victim be man, woman, or child, and no matter how defenceless. this is no reasonable way of settling the land; it is merely persecution. blacks cannot be employed on such an errand unless under the leadership of whites." he met and describes one lieutenant hambursin, who seems to have been a capable officer: "yesterday the natives in a neighbouring village came to complain that one of hambursin's soldiers had killed a villager; they brought in the offender's gun. to-day at roll-call the soldier appeared without his gun; his guilt was proved, and without more to do, he was hanged on a tree. hambursin has hanged several for the crime of murder." had there been more hambursins there might have been fewer scandals. glave proceeds to comment on treatment of prisoners: "in stations in charge of white men, government officers, one sees strings of poor emaciated old women, some of them mere skeletons, working from six in the morning till noon, and from half-past two till six, carrying clay water-jars, tramping about in gangs, with a rope round the neck, and connected by a rope one and a half yards apart. they are prisoners of war. in war the old women are always caught, but should receive a little humanity. they are naked, except for a miserable patch of cloth of several parts, held in place by a string round the waist. they are not loosened from the rope for any purpose. they live in the guard-house under the charge of black native sentries, who delight in slapping and ill-using them, for pity is not in the heart of the native. some of the women have babies, but they go to work just the same. they form, indeed, a miserable spectacle, and one wonders that old women, although prisoners of war, should not receive a little more consideration; at least, their nakedness might be hidden. the men prisoners are treated in a far better way." describing the natives he says: "the natives are not lazy, good-for-nothing fellows. their fine powers are obtained by hard work, sobriety and frugal living." he gives a glimpse of what the chicotte is like, the favourite and universal instrument of torture used by the agents and officers of the free state: "the 'chicotte' of raw hippo hide, especially a new one, trimmed like a corkscrew, with edges like knife-blades, and as hard as wood, is a terrible weapon, and a few blows bring blood; not more than twenty-five blows should be given unless the offence is very serious. though we persuaded ourselves that the african's skin is very tough it needs an extraordinary constitution to withstand the terrible punishment of one hundred blows; generally the victim is in a state of insensibility after twenty-five or thirty blows. at the first blow he yells abominably; then he quiets down, and is a mere groaning, quivering body till the operation is over, when the culprit stumbles away, often with gashes which will endure a lifetime. it is bad enough the flogging of men, but far worse is this punishment when inflicted on women and children. small boys of ten or twelve, with excitable, hot-tempered masters, often are most harshly treated. at kasnogo there is a great deal of cruelty displayed. i saw two boys very badly cut. i conscientiously believe that a man who receives one hundred blows is often nearly killed, and has his spirit broken for life." he has a glimpse of the treatment of the subjects of other nations: "two days before my arrival (at wabundu) two sierra leoneans were hanged by laschet. they were sentries on guard, and while they were asleep allowed a native chief, who was a prisoner and in chains, to escape. next morning laschet, in a fit of rage, hanged the two men. they were british subjects, engaged by the congo free state as soldiers. in time of war, i suppose, they could be executed, after court-martial, by being shot; but to hang a subject of any other country without trial seems to me outrageous." talking of the general unrest he says: "it is the natural outcome of the harsh, cruel policy of the state in wringing rubber from these people without paying for it. the revolution will extend." he adds: "the post (isangi) is close to the large settlement of an important coast man, kayamba, who now is devoted to the interests of the state, catching slaves for them, and stealing ivory from the natives of the interior. does the philanthropic king of the belgians know about this? if not, he ought to." as he gets away from the zone of war, and into that which should represent peace, his comments become more bitter. the nascent rubber trade began to intrude its methods upon his notice: "formerly the natives were well treated, but now expeditions have been sent in every direction, forcing natives to make rubber and to bring it to the stations. up the ikelemba, we are taking down one hundred slaves, mere children, all taken in unholy wars against the natives.... it was not necessary in the olden times, when we white men had no force at all. this forced commerce is depopulating the country.... left equateur at eleven o'clock this morning, after taking on a cargo of one hundred small slaves, principally boys, seven or eight years old, with a few girls among the batch, all stolen from the natives. the commissary of the district is a violent-tempered fellow. while arranging to take on the hundred small slaves a woman who had charge of the youngsters was rather slow in understanding his order, delivered in very poor kabanji. he sprang at her, slapped her in the face, and as she ran away, kicked her. they talk of philanthropy and civilization! where it is, i do not know." and again: "most white officers out on the congo are averse to the india-rubber policy of the state, but the laws command it. therefore, at each post one finds the natives deserting their homes, and escaping to the french side of the river when possible." as he goes on his convictions grow stronger: "everywhere," he said, "i hear the same news of the doings of the congo free state--rubber and murder, slavery in its worst form. it is said that half the libérés sent down die on the road.... in europe we understand from the word libérés slaves saved from their cruel masters. not at all! most of them result from wars made against the natives because of ivory or rubber." on all sides he sees evidence of the utter disregard of humanity: "to-day i saw the dead body of a carrier lying on the trail. there could have been no mistake about his being a sick man; he was nothing but skin and bones. these posts ought to give some care to the porters; the heartless disregard for life is abominable.... native life is considered of no value by the belgians. no wonder the state is hated." finally, a little before his death, he heard of that practice of mutilation which was one of the most marked fruits of the policy of "moral and material advantage of the native races" promised at the berlin conference: "mr. harvey heard from clarke, who is at lake mantumba, that the state soldiers have been in the vicinity of his station recently fighting and taking prisoners; and he himself had seen several men with bunches of hands signifying their individual skill. these, i presume, they must produce to prove their success! among the hands were those of men and women, and also those of little children. the missionaries are so much at the mercy of the state that they do not report these barbaric happenings to the people at home. i have previously heard of hands, among them children's, being brought to the stations, but i was not so satisfied of the truth of the former information as of the reports received just now by mr. harvey from clarke. much of this sort of thing is going on at the equateur station. the methods employed are not necessary. years ago, when i was on duty at the equateur without soldiers, i never had any difficulty in getting what men i needed, nor did any other station in the old, humane days. the stations and the boats then had no difficulty in finding men or labour, nor will the belgians, if they introduce more reasonable methods." a sentence which is worth noting is that "the missionaries are so much at the mercy of the state that they do not report these barbaric happenings to the people at home." far from the question being one, which, as the apologists for king leopold have contended, has been fomented by the missionaries, it has actually been held back by them, and it is only the courage and truthfulness of a handful of englishmen and americans which have finally brought it to the front. so much for mr. glave's testimony. he was an english traveller. mr. murphy, an american missionary, was working in another part of the country, the region where the ubangi joins the congo, during the same years. let us see how far his account, written entirely independently (_times_, november 18, 1895), agrees with the other: "i have seen these things done," he said, "and have remonstrated with the state in the years 1888, 1889, and 1894, but never got satisfaction. i have been in the interior and have seen the ravages made by the state in pursuit of this iniquitous trade. let me give an incident to show how this unrighteous trade affects the people. one day a state corporal, who was in charge of the post of solifa, was going round the town collecting rubber. meeting a poor woman, whose husband was away fishing, he asked: 'where is your husband?' she answered by pointing to the river. he then asked: 'where is his rubber?' she answered: 'it is ready for you.' whereupon he said 'you lie,' and lifting up his gun, shot her dead. shortly afterward the husband returned and was told of the murder of his wife. he went straight to the corporal, taking with him his rubber, and asked why he had shot his wife. the wretched man then raised his gun and killed the corporal. the soldiers ran away to the headquarters of the state, and made representations of the case, with the result that the commissary sent a large force to support the authority of the soldiers; the town was looted, burned, and many people were killed and wounded." again: "in november last (1894) there was heavy fighting on the bosira, because the people refused to give rubber, and i was told upon the authority of a state officer that no less than eighteen hundred people were killed. upon another occasion in the same month some soldiers ran away from a state steamer, and, it was said, went to the town of bombumba. the officer sent a message telling the chief of the town to give them up. he answered that he could not, as the fugitives had not been in his town. the officer sent the messenger a second time with the order: 'come to me at once, or war in the morning.' the next morning the old chief went to meet the belgians, and was attacked without provocation. he himself was wounded, his wife was killed before his eyes, and her head cut off in order that they might possess the brass necklet that she wore. twenty-four of the chief's people were also killed, and all for the paltry reason given above. again the people of lake mantumba ran away on account of the cruelty of the state, and the latter sent some soldiers in charge of a coloured corporal to treat with them and induce them to return. on the way the troops met a canoe containing seven of the fugitives. under some paltry pretext they made the people land, shot them, cut off their hands and took them to the commissary. the mantumba people complained to the missionary at irebu, and he went down to see if the story was true. he ascertained the case to be just as they had narrated, and found that one of the seven was a little girl, who was not quite dead. the child recovered, and she lives to-day, the stump of the handless arm witnessing against this horrible practice. these are only a few things of many that have taken place in one district." it was not merely for rubber that these horrors were done. much of the country is unsuited to rubber, and in those parts there were other imposts which were collected with equal brutality. one village had to send food and was remiss one day in supplying it: "the people were quietly sleeping in their beds when they heard a shot fired, and ran out to see what was the matter. finding the soldiers had surrounded the town, their only thought was escape. as they raced out of their homes, men, women and children, they were ruthlessly shot down. their town was utterly destroyed, and is a ruin to this day. the only reason for this fight was that the people had failed to bring kwanga (food) to the state upon that one day." finally mr. murphy says: "the rubber question is accountable for most of the horrors perpetrated in the congo. it has reduced the people to a state of utter despair. each town in the district is forced to bring a certain quantity to the headquarters of the commissary every sunday. it is collected by force; the soldiers drive the people into the bush; if they will not go they are shot down, their left hands being cut off and taken as trophies to the commissary. the soldiers do not care whom they shoot down, and they most often shoot poor, helpless women and harmless children. these hands--the hands of men, women and children--are placed in rows before the commissary, who counts them to see the soldiers have not wasted the cartridges. the commissary is paid a commission of about a penny per pound upon all the rubber he gets; it is, therefore, to his interest to get as much as he can." here is corroboration and amplification of all that mr. glaves had put forward. the system had not been long established, and was more efficient ten or twelve years later, but already it was bearing some notable first fruits of civilization. king leopold's rule cannot be said to have left the country unchanged. there is ample evidence that mutilations of this sort were unknown among the native savages. knowledge was spreading under european rule. having heard the testimony of an english traveller and of an american missionary, let us now hear that of a swedish clergyman, mr. sjoblom, as detailed in _the aborigines' friend_, july, 1897. it covers much the same time as the other two, and is drawn from the equateur district. here is the system in full swing: "they refuse to bring the rubber. then war is declared. the soldiers are sent in different directions. the people in the towns are attacked, and when they are running away into the forest, and try to hide themselves, and save their lives, they are found out by the soldiers. then their gardens of rice are destroyed, and their supplies taken. their plantains are cut down while they are young and not in fruit, and often their huts are burned, and, of course, everything of value is taken. within my own knowledge forty-five villages were altogether burned down. i say altogether, because there were many others partly burned down. i passed through twenty-eight abandoned villages. the natives had left their places to go further inland. in order to separate themselves from the white men they go part of the way down the river, or else they cross the river into french territory. sometimes, the natives are obliged to pay a large indemnity. the chiefs often have to pay with brass wire and slaves, and if the slaves do not make up the amount their wives are sold to pay. i was told that by a belgian officer. i will give you," mr. sjoblom continues, "an instance of a man i saw shot right before my eyes. in one of my inland journeys, when i had gone a little farther, perhaps, than the commissary expected me to go, i saw something that perhaps he would not have liked me to see. it was at a town called ibera, one of the cannibal towns to which no white man had ever been before. i reached it at sunset, after the natives had returned from the various places in which they had been looking for india-rubber. they gathered together in a great crowd, being curious to see a white man. besides, they had heard i had some good news to tell them, which came through the gospel. when that large crowd gathered, and i was just ready to preach, the sentinels rushed in among them to seize an old man. they dragged him aside a little from the crowd, and the sentinel in charge came to me and said, 'i want to shoot this man, because he has been in the river fishing to-day. he has not been on the river for india-rubber.' i told him: 'i have not authority to stop you, because i have nothing to do with these palavers, but the people are here to hear what i have to say to them, and i don't want you to do it before my eyes.' he said: 'all right, i will keep him in bonds, then, until to-morrow morning when you have gone. then i will kill him.' but a few minutes afterward the sentinel came in a rage to the man and shot him right before my eyes. then he charged his rifle again and pointed it at the others, who all rushed away like chaff before the wind. he told a little boy, eight or nine years of age, to go and cut off the right hand of the man who had been shot. the man was not quite dead, and when he felt the knife he tried to drag his hand away. the boy, after some labour, cut the hand off and laid it by a fallen tree. a little later this hand was put on a fire to smoke before being sent to the commissary." here we get the system at its highest. i think that picture of the child hacking off the hand of the dying man at the order of the monster who would have assuredly murdered him also had he hesitated to obey, is as diabolical a one as even the congo could show. a pretty commentary upon the doctrine of christ which the missionary was there to preach! mr. sjoblom seems to have been unable to believe at first that such deeds were done with the knowledge and approval of the whites. he ventured to appeal to the commissary. "he turned in anger on me," he adds, "and in the presence of the soldiers said that he would expel me from the town if i meddled with matters of that kind any more." it would, indeed, have been rather absurd for the commissary to interfere when the severed hand had actually been cut off in order to be presented to him. the whole procedure is explained in the following paragraph: "if the rubber does not reach the full amount required, the sentinels attack the natives. they kill some and bring the hands to the commissary. others are brought to the commissary as prisoners. at the beginning they came with their smoked hands. the sentinels, or else the boys in attendance on them, put these hands on a little kiln, and after they had been smoked, they by and by put them on the top of the rubber baskets. i have on many occasions seen this done." then we read in the latest state papers of the belgian diplomatists that they propose to continue the beneficent and civilizing work which they have inherited. yet another paragraph from mr. sjoblom showing the complicity of the belgian authorities, and showing also that the presence of the missionaries was some deterrent against open brutality. if, then, they saw as much as they did, what must have been the condition of those huge tracts of country where no missions existed? "at the end of 1895, the commissary--all the people were gathering the rubber--said he had often told the sentinels not to kill the people. but on the 14th of december a sentinel passed our mission station and a woman accompanied him, carrying a basket of hands. mr. and mrs. banks, besides myself, went down the road, and they told the sentinel to put the hands on the road that they might count them. we counted eighteen right hands smoked and from the size of the hands we could judge that they belonged to men, women and children. we could not understand why these hands had been collected, as the commissary had given orders that no more natives were to be killed for their hands. on my last journey i discovered the secret. one monday night, a sentinel who had just returned from the commissary, said to me: 'what are the sentinels to do? when all the people are gathered together, the commissary openly tells us not to kill any more people, but when the people have gone he tells us privately that if they do not bring plenty of india-rubber we must kill some, but not bring the hands to him.' some sentinels, he told me, had been put in chains because they killed some natives who happened to be near a mission station; but it was only because he thought it might become known that the commissary, to justify himself, had put the men in chains. i said to the sentinel: 'you should obey the first command, never to kill any more.' 'the people,' he answered, 'unless they are frightened, do not bring in the rubber, and then the commissary flogs us with the hippopotamus hide, or else he puts us in chains, or sends us to boma.' the sentinel added that the commissary induced him to hide cruelty while letting it go on, and to do this in such a way that he might be justified, in case it should become known and an investigation should be made. in such a case the commissary could say, 'why, i told him openly not to kill any more' and he might put the blame on the soldier to justify himself, though the blame and the punishment in all its force ought to have been put on himself, after he had done such a terrible act in order to disguise or mislead justice. if the sentinels were puzzled about this message, what would the natives be?" i have said that there was more to be said for the cannibal murderers than for those who worked the system. the capitas pleaded the same excuse. "don't take this to heart so much," said one of them to the missionary. "they kill us if we do not bring rubber. the commissary has promised us if we bring plenty of hands he will shorten our service. i have brought plenty already, and i expect my time will soon be finished." that the commissaries are steeped to the lips in this horrible business has been amply shown in these paragraphs. but mr. sjoblom was able to go one stage further along the line which leads to the palace at brussels. m. wahis, the governor-general, a man who has played a sinister part in the country, came up the river and endeavoured to get the outspoken swede to contradict himself, or, failing that, to intimidate him. to get at the truth or to right the wrong seems to have been the last thing in his mind, for he knew well that the wrong was essential to the system, and that without it the wheels would move more slowly and the head engineer in europe would soon wish to know what was amiss with his rubber-producing machine. "you may have seen all these things that you have stated," said he, "but nothing is proved." the commissary meanwhile had been holding a rifle to the head of witnesses so as to make sure that nothing would be proved. in spite of this mr. sjoblom managed to collect his evidence, and going to the governor, asked him when he could listen to it. "i don't want to hear any witnesses," said he, and then: "if you continue to demand investigation in these matters we will make a charge against you.... that means five years' imprisonment." such is mr sjoblom's narrative involving governor wahis in the general infamy. "it is not true," cries the congolese apologist. strange how swedes, americans, and british, laymen and clergy, all unite in defaming this innocent state! no doubt the wicked children lop off their own hands in order to cast a slur upon "the benevolent and philanthropic enterprise of the congo." tartuffe and jack the ripper--was ever such a combination in the history of the world! one more anecdote of mr. wahis, for it is not often that we can get a governor of the congo in person face to face with the results of his own work. as he passed down the river, mr. sjoblom was able to report another outrage to him: "mr. banks told the governor that he had seen it himself, whereupon m. wahis summoned the commandant in charge--the officer who had ordered the raid had already gone elsewhere--and asked him in french if the story were true. the belgian officer assured m. wahis that it was, but the latter, thinking mr. banks did not understand french, said: 'after all, you may have seen this; but you have no witnesses.' 'oh,' said mr. banks, 'i can call the commandant, who has just told you that it is true.' m. wahis then tried to minimize the matter, when, to his great surprise, mr. banks added: 'in any case i have, at his own request, furnished to the british consul, who passed through here lately, a signed statement concerning it.' m. wahis rose from his chair, saying: 'oh, then, it is all over europe!' then for the first time he said that the responsible commissary must be punished." it need not be added that the punishment was the merest farce. these successive reports, each amplifying the other, coming on the top of the killing of mr. stokes, and the action of the british colonial office in prohibiting recruiting for congoland, had the effect of calling strong attention to the condition of that country. the charges were met partly by denial, partly by general phrases about morality, and partly by bogus reform. m. van eetvelde, in brussels, and m. jules houdret, in london, denied things which have since been proved up to the hilt. the reform took the shape of a so-called natives' protection commission. like all these so-called reforms, it was utterly ineffectual, and was only meant for european consumption. no one knew so well as the men at brussels that no possible reform could have any effect whatever unless the system was itself abolished, for that system produced outrages as logically and certainly as frost produces ice. the sequel will show the results of the natives' protection commission. v further fruits of the system for a moment i must interrupt the narrative of the long, dismal succession of atrocities in order to explain certain new factors in the situation. it has already been shown that the congo state, unable to handle the whole of its vast domain, had sublet large tracts of it to monopolist companies, in absolute contradiction to article v. of the berlin treaty. up to the year 1897, these companies were registered in belgium, and had some pretence to being international in scope. the state had no open or direct control over them. this was now altered. the state drew closer the bonds which united it to these commercial undertakings. they were, for the most part, dissolved, and then reconstructed under congo law. in most cases, in return for the monopoly, the state was given control, sometimes to the extent of appointing all managers and agents. half the shares of the company or half the profits were usually made over to the state. thus one must bear in mind in future that whether one talks of the abir company, of the kasai, the katanga, the anversoise, or any other, it is really with the state--that is, with king leopold--that one has to do. he owned the companies, but paid them fifty per cent. commission for doing all the work. as their profits were such as might be expected where nothing was paid either for produce or for labour (varying from fifty to seven hundred per cent. per annum), all parties to the bargain were the gainers. another new factor in the situation was the completion, in 1898, of the lower congo railway, which connects boma with stanley pool, and so outflanks the cataracts. the enterprise itself was beneficent and splendid. the means by which it was carried out were unscrupulous and inhuman. had civilization no complaint against the congo state save the history of its railway construction with its forced labour, so different to the tradition of the tropical procedure of other european colonies, it would be a heavy indictment. now it sinks to insignificance when compared with the enslavement of a whole people and the twenty years of uninterrupted massacre. as a sketch of the condition of the railway district here is a little pen picture by m. edouard picard, of the belgian senate, who saw it in the building: "the cruel impression conveyed by the mutilated forests," he wrote, "is heightened in the places where, till lately, native villages nestled, hidden and protected by thick and lofty foliage. the inhabitants have fled. they have fled in spite of encouraging palavers and promises of peace and kind treatment. they have burnt their huts, and great heaps of cinders mark the sites, amid deserted palm-groves and trampled-down banana fields. the terrors caused by the memory of inhuman floggings, of massacres, of rapes and abductions, haunt their poor brains, and they go as fugitives to seek shelter in the recesses of the hospitable bush, or, across the frontiers, to find it in french or portuguese congo, not yet afflicted with so many labours and alarms, far from the roads traversed by white men, those baneful intruders, and their train of strange and disquieting habits." the outlook was as gloomy when he wandered along the path trodden by the caravans to the pool and back again. "we are constantly meeting these carriers, either isolated or in indian file; blacks, blacks, miserable blacks, with horribly filthy loin-clothes for their only garments; their bare and frizzled heads supporting their loads--chest, bale, ivory-tusk, hamper of rubber, or barrel; for the most part broken down, sinking under the burdens made heavier by their weariness and insufficiency of food, consisting of a handful of rice and tainted dried fish; pitiful walking caryatids; beasts of burden with the lank limbs of monkeys, pinched-up features, eyes fixed and round with the strain of keeping their balance and the dulness of exhaustion. thus they come and go by thousands, organized in a system of human transport, requisitioned by the state armed with its irresistible _force publique_, supplied by the chiefs whose slaves they are and who pounce on their wages; jogging on, with knees bent and stomach protruding, one arm raised up and the other resting on a long stick, dusty and malodorous; covered with insects as their huge procession passes over mountains and through valleys; dying on the tramp, or, when the tramp is over, going to their villages to die of exhaustion." it will be remembered that captain lothaire, having been acquitted of the murder of mr. stokes, was sent out by king leopold to act as managing-director of the anversoise trust. in 1898, he arrived in the mongalla district, and from then onward there came to europe vague rumours of native attacks and bloody reprisals, with those other symptoms of violence and unrest which might be expected where a large population accustomed to freedom is suddenly reduced to slavery. how huge were the rubber operations which were carried through under the ferocious rule of captain lothaire, may be guessed from the fact that the profits of the company, which had been 120,000 francs in 1897, rose to 3,968,000 in 1899--a sum which is considerably more than twice the total capital. m. mille tells of a belgian agent who showed 25,000 cartridges and remarked, "i can turn those into 25,000 pounds of rubber." captain lothaire believed in the same trade methods, for his fighting and his output increased together. it is worth while to slaughter one-fourth of the population if the effect is to drive the others to frenzied and unceasing work. no definite details might ever have reached europe of those doings had not lothaire made the capital mistake of quarrelling with his subordinates. one of these, named lacroix, sent a communication to the _nieuw gazet_, of antwerp, which, with the _petit bleu_, acted an honourable and independent part at this epoch. the congo press bureau, which has stifled the voice of the more venal portion of the belgian and parisian press, had not at that time attained the efficiency which it afterward reached. this letter from lacroix was published on april 10th, 1900, and shed a lurid light upon what had been going on in the mongalla district. it was a confession, but a confession which involved his superiors as well as himself. he told how he had been instructed by his chief to massacre all the natives of a certain village which had been slow in bringing its rubber. he had carried out the order. later, his chief had put sixty women in irons, and allowed nearly all of them to die of hunger because the village--mummumbula--had not brought enough rubber. "i am going to be tried," he wrote, "for having murdered one hundred and fifty men, for having crucified women and children, and for having mutilated many men and hung the remains on the village fence." at the same moment as this confession of lacroix, _le petit bleu_ published sworn affidavits of soldiers employed by the trust, telling how they had put to death whole villages for being short with their rubber. moray, another agent, published a confession in _le petit bleu_, from which this is an extract: "at ambas we were a party of thirty, under van eycken, who sent us into a village to ascertain if the natives were collecting rubber, and in the contrary case to murder all, including men, women and children. we found the natives sitting peaceably. we asked them what they were doing. they were unable to reply, thereupon we fell upon them all, and killed them without mercy. an hour later we were joined by van eycken, and told him what had been done. he answered: 'it is well, but you have not done enough!' thereupon he ordered us to cut off the heads of the men and hang them on the village palisades, also their sexual members, and to hang the women and children on the palisades in the form of a cross." in the face of these fresh revelations there was an outburst of feeling in belgium, showing that it is only their ignorance of the true facts which prevents the inhabitants of that country from showing the same humanity as any other civilized nation would do. they have not yet realized the foul things which have been done in their name. surely when they do realize it there will be a terrible reckoning! some were already very alive to the question. mm. vandervelde and lorand fought bravely in the chamber. the officials, with mm. liebrichts and de cuvelier at their head, made the usual vague professions and general denials. "ah, you can rest assured light will be forthcoming, complete, striking!" cried the former. light was indeed forthcoming, though not so complete as might be wished, for some, at least, of the scoundrels implicated were tried and condemned. in any other european colony they would have been hanged offhand, as the villainous murderers that they were. but they do not hang white men in the congoland, even with the blood of a hundred murders on their hands. the only white man ever hanged there was the englishman stokes for competing in trade. what is to be remarked, however, is that only subordinates were punished. van eycken was acquitted; lacroix had imprisonment; mattheys, another agent accused of horrible practices, got twelve years--which sounded well at the time, but he was liberated at the end of three. in the sentence upon this man the judge used the words, "seeing that it is just to take into account the example which his superiors gave him in showing no respect for the lives or rights of the natives." brave words, but how helpless is justice when such words can be said, and no result follow! they referred, of course, to captain lothaire, who had, in the meanwhile, fled aboard a steamer at matadi, and made his escape to europe. his flight was common knowledge, but who would dare to lay his hand upon the favourite of the king. lothaire has had occasion several times since to visit the congo, but justice has indeed sat with bandaged eyes where that man was concerned! there is one incident which should be marked in the story of this trial. moray, whose testimony would have been of great importance, was found dead in his bed just before the proceedings. there have been several such happenings in congo history. commandant dooms, having threatened to expose the misdeeds of lieutenant massard before europe, was shortly afterward declared to have been mysteriously drowned by a hippopotamus. dr. barotti, returning hot with anger after an inspection of the state, declares vehemently that he was poisoned. there is much that is of the sixteenth century in this state, besides its views of its duties to the natives. before passing these revelations with the attendant burst of candour in the belgian press, it may be well to transcribe the following remark in an interview from a returned congo official which appeared in the _antwerp nieuw gazet_ (april 10th, 1900). he says: "when first commissioned to establish a fort, i was given some native soldiers and a prodigious stock of ammunition. my chief gave me the following instructions: 'crush every obstacle!' i obeyed, and cut through my district by fire and sword. i had left antwerp thinking i was simply to gather rubber. great was my stupefaction when the truth dawned on me." this, with the letter of lieutenant tilken, as quoted before, gives some insight into the position of the agent. indeed, there is something to be said for these unfortunate men, for it is a more awful thing to be driven to crime than to endure it. consider the sequence of events! the man sees an advertisement offering a commercial situation in the tropics. he applies to a bureau. he is told that the salary is some seventy-five pounds a year, with a bonus on results. he knows nothing of the country or conditions. he accepts. he is then asked if he has any money. he has not. one hundred pounds is advanced to him for expenses and outfit, and he is pledged to work it off. he goes out and finds the terrible nature of the task before him. he must condone crime to get his results. suppose he resigns? "certainly," say the authorities; "but you must remain there until you have worked off your debt!" he cannot possibly get down the river, for the steamers are all under government control. what can he do then? there is one thing which he very frequently does, and that is to blow out his brains. the statistics of suicide are higher than in any service in the world. but suppose he takes the line: "very well, i will stay if you make me do so, but i will expose these misdeeds to europe." what then? the routine is a simple one. an official charge is preferred against him of ill-treating the natives. ill-treating of some sort is always going forward, and there is no difficulty with the help of the sentries in proving that something for which the agent is responsible does not tally with the written law, however much it might be the recognized custom. he is taken to boma, tried and condemned. thus it comes about that the prison of boma may at the same time contain the best men and the worst--the men whose ideas were too humane for the authorities as well as those whose crimes could not be overlooked even by a congolese administration. take warning, you who seek service in this dark country, for suicide, the boma prison, or such deeds as will poison your memory forever are the only choice which will lie before you. here is the sort of official circular which descends in its thousands upon the agent. this particular one was from the commissioner in the wille district: "i give you _carte blanche_ to procure 4,000 kilos of rubber a month. you have two months in which to work your people. employ gentleness at first, and if they persist in resisting the demands of the state, employ force of arms." and this state was formed for the "moral and material advantage of the native." while dealing with trials of boma i will give some short account of the caudron case, which occurred in 1904. this case was remarkable as establishing judicially what was always clear enough: the complicity between the state and the criminal. caudron was a man against whom 120 cold-blooded murders were charged. he was, in fact, a zealous and efficient agent of the anversoise society, that same company whose red-edged securities rose to such a height when manager lothaire taught the natives what a minister in the belgian house described as the christian law of work. he did his best for the company, and he did his best for himself, for he had a three per cent. commission upon the rubber. why he should be chosen among all his fellow-murderers is hard to explain, but it was so, and he found himself at boma with a sentence of twenty years. on appealing, this was reduced to fifteen years, which experience has shown to mean in practice two or three. the interesting point of his trial, however, is that his appeal, and the consequent decrease of sentence which justified that appeal, were based upon the claim that the government was cognisant of the murderous raids, and that the government soldiers were used to effect them. the points brought out by the trial were: 1. the existence of a system of organized oppression, plunder, and massacre, in order to increase the output of india-rubber for the benefit of a "company," which is only a covering name for the government itself. 2. that the local authorities of the government are cognisant, and participatory in this system. 3. that local officials of the government engage in these rubber raids, and that government troops are regularly employed there on. 4. that the judicature is powerless to place the real responsibility on the proper shoulders. 5. that, consequently, these atrocities will continue until the system itself is extirpated. caudron's counsel called for the production of official documents to show how the chain of responsibility went, but the president of the appeal court refused it, knowing as clearly as we do, that it could only conduct to the throne itself. one might ask how the details of this trial came to europe when it is so seldom that anything leaks out from the courts of boma. the reason was that there lived in boma a british coloured subject named shanir, who was at the pains to attend the court day by day in order to preserve some record of the procedure. this he dispatched to europe. the sequel is interesting. the man's trade, which was a very large one, was boycotted, he lost his all, brooded over his misfortunes, and finally took his own life--another martyr in the cause of the congo. vi voices from the darkness i will now return to the witnesses of the shocking treatment of the natives. rev. joseph clark was an american missionary living at ikoko in the crown domain, which is king leopold's own special private preserve. these letters cover the space between 1893 and 1899. this is ikoko as he found it in 1893: "irebo contains say 2,000 people. ikoko has at least 4,000 and there are other towns within easy reach, several as large as irebo, and two probably as large as ikoko. the people are fine-looking, bold and active." in 1903 there were 600 people surviving. in 1894 ikoko in the crown domain began to feel the effects of "moral and material regeneration." on may 30th of that year mr. clark writes: "owing to trouble with the state the irebo people fled and left their homes. yesterday the state soldiers shot a sick man who had not attempted to run away, and others have been killed by the state (native) soldiers, who, in the absence of a white man, do as they please." in november, 1894: "at ikoko quite a number of people have been killed by the soldiers, and most of the others are living in the bush." in the same month he complained officially to commissaire fievez: "if you do not come soon and stop the present trouble the towns will be empty.... i entreat you to help us to have peace on the lake.... it seems so hard to see the dead bodies in the creek and on the beach, and to know why they are killed.... people are living in the bush like wild beasts without shelter or proper food, and afraid to make fires. many died in this way. one woman ran away with three children--they all died in the forest, and the woman herself came back a wreck and died before long--ruined by exposure and starvation. we knew her well. my hope in 1894 was to get the facts put before king leopold, as i was sure he knew nothing of the awful conditions of the collection of the so-called 'rubber tax.'" on november 28th he writes: "the state soldiers brought in seven hands, and reported having shot the people in the act of running away to the french side, etc." * * * * * "we found all that the soldiers had reported was untrue, and that the statements made by the natives to me were true. we saw only six bodies; a seventh had evidently fallen into the water, and we learned in a day or two that an eighth body had floated into the landing-place above us--a woman that had either been thrown or had fallen into the water after being shot." on december 5th, he says: "a year ago we passed or visited between here and ikoko the following villages: probable population lobwaka 250 boboko 250 bosungu 100 kenzie 150 bokaka 200 mosenge 150 ituta 80 ngero 2,000 ---- total 3,180 "a week ago i went up, and only at ngero were there any people: there we found ten. ikoko did not contain over twelve people other than those employed by frank. beyond ikoko the case is the same." april 12th, 1895, he writes: "i am sorry that rubber palavers continue. every week we hear of some fighting, and there are frequent 'rows,' even in our village, with the armed and unruly soldiers.... during the past twelve months it has cost more lives than native wars and superstition would have sacrificed in three to five years. the people make this comparison among themselves.... it seems incredible and awful to think of these savage men armed with rifles and let loose to hunt and kill people, because they do not get rubber to sell at a mere nothing to the state, _and it is blood-curdling to see them returning with hands of the slain and to find the hands of young children, amongst bigger ones, evidencing their 'bravery.'_" the following was written on may 3rd, 1895: "the war on account of rubber. the state demands that the natives shall make rubber and sell same to its agents at a very low price. the natives do not like it. it is hard work and very poor pay, and takes them away from their homes into the forest, where they feel very unsafe, as there are always feuds among them.... the rubber from this district has cost hundreds of lives, and the scenes i have witnessed while unable to help the oppressed have been almost enough to make me wish i were dead. the soldiers, are themselves savages, some even cannibals, trained to use rifles and in many cases they are sent away without supervision, and they do as they please. when they come to any town no man's property or wife is safe, and when they are at war they are like devils. "_imagine them returning from fighting some 'rebels'; see, on the bow of the canoe is a pole and a bundle of something on it.... these are the hands (right hands) of sixteen warriors they have slain. 'warriors!' don't you see among them the hands of little children and girls (young girls or boys)? i have seen them. i have seen where even the trophy has been cut off while yet the poor heart beat strongly enough to shoot the blood from the cut arteries to a distance of fully four feet._" "a young baby was brought here one time; its mother was taken prisoner, and before her eyes they threw the infant in the water to drown it. the soldiers coolly told me and my wife that their white man did not want them to bring infants to their place. they dragged the women off and left the infant beside us, but we sent the child to its mother, and said we would report the matter to the chief of the post. we did so, but the men were not punished. the principal offender was told before me he would get fifty lashes, but i heard the same mouth send a message to say he would not be flogged." compare with this the following extracts from king leopold's _officiel bulletin_, referring to this very tract of country: "the exploitation of the rubber vines of this district was undertaken barely three years ago by m. fievez. the results he obtained have been unequalled. the district produced in 1895 more than 650 tons of rubber, bought (_sic_) for 2-1/2_d._ (european price), and sold at antwerp for 5_s._ 5_d._ per kilo (2 lbs.)." a later bulletin adds: "with this development of general order is combined an inevitable amelioration in the native's condition of existence _wherever he comes into contact with the european element_.... "such is, in fact, one of the ends of the general policy of the state, to _promote the regeneration of the race by instilling into him a higher idea of the necessity of labour_." truly, i know nothing in history to match such documents as these--pirates and bandits have never descended to that last odious abyss of hypocrisy. it stands alone, colossal in its horror, colossal, too, in its effrontery. a few more anecdotes from the worthy mr. clark. this is an extract from a letter to the chief of the district, mueller: "there is a matter i want to report to you regarding the nkake sentries. you remember some time ago they took eleven canoes and shot some ikoko people. as a proof they went to you with some hands, of which three were the hands of little children. we heard from one of their paddlers that one child was not dead when its hand was cut off, but did not believe the story. three days after we were told the child was still alive in the bush. i sent four of my men to see, and they brought back a little girl whose right hand had been cut off, and she left to die from the wound. the child had no other wound. as i was going to see dr. reusens about my own sickness i took the child to him, and he has cut the arm and made it right and i think she will live. but i think such awful cruelty should be punished." mr. clark still clung to the hope that king leopold did not know of the results of his own system. on march 25th, 1896, he writes: "_this rubber traffic is steeped in blood, and if the natives were to rise and sweep every white person on the upper congo into eternity there would still be left a fearful balance to their credit._ is it not possible for some american of influence to see the king of the belgians, and let him know what is being done in his name? _the lake is reserved for the king_--no traders allowed--and _to collect rubber for him hundreds of men, women and children have been shot_." at last the natives, goaded beyond endurance, rose against their oppressors. who can help rejoicing that they seem to have had some success? _extracts from letter-book commencing january 29th, 1897_: "the native uprising. this was brought about at last by sentries robbing and badly treating an important chief. _in my presence_ he laid his complaint before m. mueller, reporting the seizure of his wives and goods and the personal violence he had suffered at the hands of m. mueller's soldiers stationed in his town. _i saw m. mueller kick him off his veranda._ within forty-eight hours there were no 'sentries' or their followers left in that chief's town--they were killed and mutilated--and soon after m. mueller, with another white officer and many soldiers, were killed, and the revolt began." such is some of the evidence, a very small portion of the whole narrative furnished by mr. clark. remember that it is extracted from a long series of letters written to various people during a succession of years. one could conceive a single statement being a concoction, but the most ingenious apologist for the congo methods could not explain how such a document as this could be other than true. so much for mr. clark, the american. the evidence of mr. scrivener, the englishman, covering roughly the same place and date, will follow. but lest the view should seem too anglo-saxon, let me interpolate a paragraph from the travels of a frenchman, m. leon berthier, whose diary was published by the colonial institute of marseilles in 1902: "belgian post of imesse well constructed. the chef de poste is absent. he has gone to punish the village of m'batchi, guilty of being a little late in paying the rubber tax.... a canoe full of congo state soldiers returns from the pillage of m'batchi.... thirty killed, fifty wounded.... at three o'clock arrive at m'batchi, the scene of the bloody punishment of the chef de poste at imesse. poor village! the débris of miserable huts.... one goes away humiliated and saddened from these scenes of desolation, filled with indescribable feelings." in showing the continuity of the congo horror and the extent of its duration (an extent which is the shame of the great powers who acquiesced in it by their silence), i have marshalled witnesses in their successive order. messrs. glave, murphy and sjoblom have covered the time from 1894 to 1897; mr. clark has carried it on to 1900; we have had the deeds of 1901-4 as revealed in the boma law courts. i shall now give the experience of rev. mr. scrivener, an english missionary, who in july, august and september, 1903, traversed a section of the crown domain, that same region specially assigned to king leopold in person, in which mr. clark had spent so many nightmare years. we shall see how far the independent testimony of the englishman and the american, the one extracted from a diary, the other from a succession of letters, corroborate each other: "at six in the morning woke up to find it still raining. it kept on till nine, and we managed to get off by eleven. all the cassava bread was finished the day previous, so a little rice was cooked, but it was a hungry crowd that left the little village. i tried to find out something about them. they said they were runaways from a district a little distance away, where rubber was being collected. they told us some horrible tales of murder and starvation, and when we heard all we wondered that men so maltreated should be able to live without retaliation. the boys and girls were naked, and i gave them each a strip of calico, much to their wonderment.... "four hours and a half brought us to a place called sa.... on the way we passed two villages with more people than we had seen for days. there may have been 120. close to the post was another small village. we decided to stay there the rest of the day. three chiefs came in with all the adult members of their people, and altogether there were not 300. and this where, not more than six or seven years ago, there were at least 3,000! it made one's heart heavy to listen to the tales of bloodshed and cruelty. and it all seemed so foolish. to kill the people off in the wholesale way in which it has been done in this lake district, because they would not bring in a sufficient quantity of rubber to satisfy the white man--and now here is an empty country and a very much diminished output of rubber as the inevitable consequence...." finally mr. scrivener emerged in the neighbourhood of a "big state station." he was hospitably received, and had many chats with his host, who seems to have been a very decent sort of man, doing his best under very trying circumstances. his predecessor had worked incalculable havoc in the country, and the present occupant of the post was endeavouring to carry out the duties assigned to him (those duties consisting, as usual, of orders to get all the rubber possible out of the people) with as much humanity as the nature of the task permitted. in this he, no doubt, did what was possible as one whom the system had not yet degraded to its level--one of the rare few: and one cannot wonder that they should be rare, seeing the nature of the bonds, and the helplessness in which an official is placed who does not carry out the full desires of his superiors. but he had only succeeded in getting himself into trouble with the district commander in consequence. he showed mr. scrivener a letter from the latter upbraiding him for not using more vigorous means, telling him to talk less and shoot more, and reprimanding him for not killing more than one man in a district under his care where there was a little trouble. mr. scrivener had the opportunity while at this state post, under the _régime_ of a man who was endeavouring to be as humane as his instructions allowed, to actually see the process whereby the secret revenues of the "crown domain" are obtained. he says: "everything was on a military basis, but, so far as i could see, the one and only reason for it all was rubber. it was the theme of every conversation, and it was evident that the only way to please one's superiors was to increase the output somehow. i saw a few men come in, and the frightened look even now on their faces tells only too eloquently of the awful time they have passed through. as i saw it brought in, each man had a little basket, containing, say, four or five pounds of rubber. this was emptied into a larger basket and weighed, and being found sufficient, each man was given a cupful of coarse salt, and to some of the head-men a fathom of calico.... i heard from the white men and some of the soldiers some most gruesome stories. the former white man (i feel ashamed of my colour every time i think of him) would stand at the door of the store to receive the rubber from the poor trembling wretches, who after, in some cases, weeks of privation in the forest, had ventured in with what they had been able to collect. a man bringing rather under the proper amount, the white man flies into a rage, and seizing a rifle from one of the guards, shoots him dead on the spot. very rarely did rubber come in but one or more were shot in that way at the door of the store--'to make the survivors bring more next time.' men who had tried to run from the country and had been caught, were brought to the station and made to stand one behind the other, and an albini bullet sent through them. 'a pity to waste cartridges on such wretches.' only the roads to and fro from the various posts are kept open, and large tracts of country are abandoned to the wild beasts. the white man himself told me that you could walk on for five days in one direction, and not see a single village or a single human being. and this where formerly there was a big tribe!... "as one by one the surviving relatives of my men arrived, some affecting scenes were enacted. there was no falling on necks and weeping, but very genuine joy was shown and tears were shed as the losses death had made were told. how they shook hands and snapped their fingers! what expressions of surprise--the wide-opened mouth covered with the open hand to make its evidence of wonder the more apparent.... so far as the state post was concerned, it was in a very dilapidated condition.... on three sides of the usual huge quadrangle there were abundant signs of a former population, but we only found three villages--bigger, indeed, than any we had seen before, but sadly diminished from what had been but recently the condition of the place.... soon we began talking, and, without any encouragement on my part, they began the tales i had become so accustomed to. they were living in peace and quietness when the white men came in from the lake with all sorts of requests to do this and to do that, and they thought it meant slavery. so they attempted to keep the white men out of their country, but without avail. the rifles were too much for them. so they submitted, and made up their minds to do the best they could under the altered circumstances. first came the command to build houses for the soldiers, and this was done without a murmur. then they had to feed the soldiers, and all the men and women--hangers-on--who accompanied them. "then they were told to bring in rubber. this was quite a new thing for them to do. there was rubber in the forest several days away from their home, but that it was worth anything was news to them. a small reward was offered, and a rush was made for the rubber; 'what strange white men, to give us cloth and beads for the sap of a wild vine.' they rejoiced in what they thought was their good fortune. but soon the reward was reduced until they were told to bring in the rubber for nothing. to this they tried to demur, but to their great surprise several were shot by the soldiers, and the rest were told, with many curses and blows, to go at once or more would be killed. terrified, they began to prepare their food for the fortnight's absence from the village, which the collection of the rubber entailed. the soldiers discovered them sitting about. 'what, not gone yet?' bang! bang! bang! bang! and down fell one and another, dead, in the midst of wives and companions. there is a terrible wail, and an attempt made to prepare the dead for burial, but this is not allowed. all must go at once to the forest. and off the poor wretches had to go, without even their tinderboxes to make fires. many died in the forests from exposure and hunger, and still more from the rifles of the ferocious soldiers in charge of the post. in spite of all their efforts, the amount fell off, and more and more were killed.... "i was shown around the place, and the sites of former big chiefs' settlements were pointed out. a careful estimate made the population, of say, seven years ago, to be 2,000 people in and about the post, within a radius of, say a quarter of a mile. all told, they would not muster 200 now, and there is so much sadness and gloom that they are fast decreasing.... lying about in the grass, within a few yards of the house i was occupying, were numbers of human bones, in some cases complete skeletons. i counted thirty-six skulls, and saw many sets of bones from which the skulls were missing. i called one of the men, and asked the meaning of it. 'when the rubber palaver began,' said he, 'the soldiers shot so many we grew tired of burying, and very often we were not allowed to bury, and so just dragged the bodies out into the grass and left them. there are hundreds all round if you would like to see them.' but i had seen more than enough, and was sickened by the stories that came from men and women alike of the awful time they had passed through. the bulgarian atrocities might be considered as mildness itself when compared with what has been done here.... "in due course we reached ibali. there was hardly a sound building in the place.... why such dilapidation? the commandant away for a trip likely to extend into three months, the sub-lieutenant away in another direction on a punitive expedition. in other words, the station must be neglected, and rubber-hunting carried out with all vigour. i stayed here two days, and the one thing that impressed itself upon me was the collection of rubber. i saw long files of men come, as at mbongo, with their little baskets under their arms, saw them paid their milk-tin full of salt, and the two yards of calico flung to the head-men; saw their trembling timidity, and, in fact, a great deal more, to prove the state of terrorism that exists, and the virtual slavery in which the people are held.... "so much for the journey to the lake. it has enlarged my knowledge of the country, and also, alas! my knowledge of the awful deeds enacted in the mad haste of men to get rich. so far as i know, i am the first white man to go into the _domaine privé_ of the king, other than the employees of the state. i expect there will be wrath in some quarters, but that cannot be helped." so far mr. scrivener. but perhaps the reader may think that there really was a missionary plot to decry the free state. let us have some travellers, then. here is mr. grogan from his "cape to cairo": "the people were terrorized and were living in marshes." this was on the british frontier. "the belgians have crossed the frontier, descended into the valley, shot down large numbers of natives, british subjects, driven off the young women and cattle, and actually tied up and burned the old women. i do not make these statements without having gone into the matter. i remarked on the absence of women and the reason was given. it was on further inquiry that i was assured by the natives that white men had been present when the old women had been burned.... they even described to me the personal appearance of the white officers with the troops.... the wretched people came to me and asked me why the british had deserted them." further on he says: "every village had been burned to the ground, and as i fled from the country i saw skeletons, skeletons everywhere. and such postures! what tales of horror they told." just a word in conclusion from another witness, mr. herbert frost: "the power of an armed soldier among enslaved people is absolutely paramount. by chief or child, every command, wish, or whim of the soldier must be obeyed or gratified. at his command with rifle ready a man will ... outrage his own sister, give to his persecutor the wife he loves most of all, say or do anything, indeed, to save his life. the woes and sorrows of the race whom king leopold has enslaved have not decreased, for his commissaire officers and agents have introduced and maintain a system of deviltry hitherto undreamed of by his victims." does this all seem horrible? but in the face of it is there not something more horrible in a sentence of this kind?- "our only programme, i am anxious to repeat, is the work of moral and material regeneration, and we must do this among a population whose degeneration in its inherited conditions it is difficult to measure. the many horrors and atrocities which disgrace humanity give way little by little before our intervention." it is king leopold who speaks. vii consul roger casement's report up to this time the published reports as to the black doings of king leopold and his men were, with the exception of a guarded document from consul pickersgill, in 1898, entirely from private individuals. no doubt there were official reports but the government withheld them. in 1904, this policy of reticence was abandoned, and the historic report of consul roger casement confirmed, and in some ways amplified, all that had reached europe from other sources. a word or two as to mr. casement's own personality and qualifications may not be amiss, since both were attacked by his belgian detractors. he is a tried and experienced public servant, who has had exceptional opportunities of knowing africa and the natives. he entered the consular service in 1892, served on the niger till 1895, was consul at delagoa bay to 1898, and was finally transferred to the congo. personally, he is a man of the highest character, truthful, unselfish--one who is deeply respected by all who know him. his experience, which deals with the crown domain districts in the year 1903, covers some sixty-two pages, to be read in full in "white book, africa, no. 1, 1904." i will not apologize for the length of the extracts, as this, the first official exposure, was an historical document and from its publication we mark the first step in that train of events which is surely destined to remove the congo state from hands which have proved so unworthy, and to place it in conditions which shall no longer be a disgrace to european civilization. it may be remarked before beginning that at some of these conversations with the natives mr. scrivener was present, and that he corroborates the account given by the consul. the beginning of mr. casement's report shows how willing he was to give praise where praise was possible, and to say all that could be said for the administration. he talks of "energetic european intervention," and adds, "that very much of this intervention has been called for no one who formerly knew the upper congo could doubt." "admirably built and admirably kept stations greet the traveller at many points." "to-day the railway works most efficiently." he attributes sleeping sickness as "one cause of the seemingly wholesale diminution of human life which i everywhere observed in the regions re-visited; a prominent place must be assigned to this malady. the natives certainly attribute their alarming death-rate to this as one of the inducing causes, although they attribute, and i think principally, their rapid decrease in numbers to other causes as well." the government work shop "was brightness, care, order, and activity, and it was impossible not to admire and commend the industry which had created and maintained in constant working order this useful establishment." these are not the words of a critic who has started with a prejudiced mind or the desire to make out a case. in the lower reaches of the river above stanley pool casement found no gross ill-usage. the natives were hopeless and listless, being debarred from trade and heavily taxed in food, fish and other produce. it was not until he began to approach the cursed rubber zones that terrible things began to dawn upon him. casement had travelled in 1887 in the congo, and was surprised to note the timidity of the natives. soon he had his explanation: "at one of these village, s----, after confidence had been restored and the fugitives had been induced to come in from the surrounding forest, where they had hidden themselves, i saw women coming back, carrying their babies, their household utensils, and even the food they had hastily snatched up, up to a late hour of the evening. meeting some of these returning women in one of the fields i asked them why they had run away at my approach, and they said, smiling, 'we thought you were bula matadi' (_i. e._, 'men of the government'). fear of this kind was formerly unknown on the upper congo; and in much more out-of-the-way places visited many years ago the people flocked from all sides to greet a white stranger. but to-day the apparition of a white man's steamer evidently gave the signal for instant flight." "... men, he said, still came to him whose hands had been cut off by the government soldiers during those evil days, and he said there were still many victims of this species of mutilation in the surrounding country. two cases of the kind came to my actual notice while i was in the lake. one, a young man, both of whose hands had been beaten off with the butt-ends of rifles against a tree, the other a young lad of eleven or twelve years of age, whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. this boy described the circumstances of his mutilation, and, in answer to my inquiry, said that although wounded at the time he was perfectly sensible of the severing of his wrist, but lay still fearing that if he moved he would be killed. in both these cases the government soldiers had been accompanied by white officers whose names were given to me. of six natives (one a girl, three little boys, one youth, and one old woman) who had been mutilated in this way during the rubber _régime_, all except one were dead at the date of my visit. the old woman had died at the beginning of this year, and her niece described to me how the act of mutilation in her case had been accomplished." the fines inflicted upon villages for trifling offences were such as to produce the results here described: "the officer had then imposed as further punishment a fine of 55,000 brass rods (2,750 fr.)--£110. this sum they had been forced to pay, and as they had no other means of raising so large a sum they had, many of them, been compelled to sell their children and their wives. i saw no live-stock of any kind in w---save a very few fowls--possibly under a dozen--and it seemed, indeed, not unlikely that, as these people asserted, they had great difficulty in always getting their supplies ready. a father and mother stepped out and said that they had been forced to sell their son, a little boy called f, for 1,000 rods to meet their share of the fine. a widow came and declared that she had been forced, in order to meet her share of the fine, to sell her daughter g, a little girl whom i judged from her description to be about ten years of age. she had been sold to a man in y----, who was named, for 1,000 rods, which had then gone to make up the fine." the natives were broken in spirit by the treatment: "one of them--a strong, indeed, a splendid-looking man--broke down and wept, saying that their lives were useless to them, and that they knew of no means of escape from the troubles which were gathering around them. i could only assure these people that their obvious course to obtain relief was by appeal to their own constituted authorities, and that if their circumstances were clearly understood by those responsible for these fines i trusted and believed some satisfaction would be forthcoming." these fines, it may be added, were absolutely illegal. it was the officer, not the poor, harried natives, who had broken the law. "these fines, it should be borne in mind, are illegally imposed; they are not 'fines of court'; are not pronounced after any judicial hearing, or for any proved offence against the law, but are quite arbitrarily levied according to the whim or ill-will of the executive officers of the district, and their collection, as well as their imposition, involves continuous breaches of the congolese laws. they do not, moreover, figure in the account of public revenues in the congo 'budgets'; they are not paid into the public purse of the country, but are spent on the needs of the station or military camp of the officer imposing them, just as seems good to this official." here is an illustrative anecdote: "one of the largest congo concession companies had, when i was on the upper river, addressed a request to its directors in europe for a further supply of ball-cartridge. the directors had met this demand by asking what had become of the 72,000 cartridges shipped some three years ago, to which a reply was sent to the effect that these had all been used in the production of india-rubber. i did not see this correspondence, and cannot vouch for the truth of the statement; but the officer who informed me that it had passed before his own eyes was one of the highest standing in the interior." another witness showed the exact ratio between cartridges and rubber: "'the s. a. b. on the bussira, with 150 guns, get only ten tons (rubber) a month; we, the state, at momboyo, with 130 guns, get thirteen tons per month.' 'so you count by guns?' i asked him. 'partout,' m. p. said. 'each time the corporal goes out to get rubber cartridges are given to him. he must bring back all not used; and for every one used, he must bring back a right hand.' m. p. told me that sometimes they shot a cartridge at an animal in hunting; they then cut off a hand from a living man. as to the extent to which this is carried on, he informed me that in six months they, the state, on the momboyo river, had used 6,000 cartridges, which means that 6,000 people are killed or mutilated. it means more than 6,000 for the people have told me repeatedly that the soldiers kill children with the butt of their guns." that the statement about the cutting off of living hands is correct is amply proved by the kodak. i have photographs of at least twenty such mutilated negroes in my own possession. here is a copy of a dispatch from an official quoted in its naked frankness: "le chef ngulu de wangata est envoyé dans la maringa, pour m'y acheter des esclaves. prière a mm. les agents de l'a.b.i.r. de bien vouloir me signaler les méfaits que celui-ci pourrait commettre en route. "le capitaine-commandant, (signé) "sarrazzyn." "_colquilhatville, le 1er mai, 1896._" pretty good for the state which boasts that it has put down the slave trade. there is a passage showing the working of the rubber system which is so clear and authoritative that i transcribe it in full: "i went to the homes of these men some miles away and found out their circumstances. to get the rubber they had first to go fully a two days' journey from their homes, leaving their wives, and being absent for from five to six days. they were seen to the forest limits under guard, and if not back by the sixth day trouble was likely to ensue. to get the rubber in the forests--which, generally speaking, are very swampy--involves much fatigue and often fruitless searching for a well-flowing vine. as the area of supply diminishes, moreover, the demand for rubber constantly increases. some little time back i learned the bongandanga district supplied seven tons of rubber a month, a quantity which it was hoped would shortly be increased to ten tons. the quantity of rubber brought by the three men in question would have represented, probably, for the three of them certainly not less than seven kilog. of pure rubber. that would be a very safe estimate, and at an average of 7fr. per kilog. they might be said to have brought in £2 worth of rubber. in return for this labour, or imposition, they had received goods which cost certainly under 1_s._, and whose local valuation came to 45 rods (1_s._ 10_d._). as this process repeats itself twenty-six times a year, it will be seen that they would have yielded £52 in kind at the end of the year to the local factory, and would have received in return some 24_s._ or 25_s._ worth of goods, which had a market value on the spot of £2 7_s._ 8_d._ in addition to these formal payments they were liable at times to be dealt with in another manner, for should their work, which might have been just as hard, have proved less profitable in its yield of rubber, the local prison would have seen them. the people everywhere assured me that they were not happy under this system, and it was apparent to a callous eye that in this they spoke the strict truth." again i insert a passage to show that casement was by no means an ill-natured critic: "it is only right to say that the present agent of the a.b.i.r. society i met at bongandanga seemed to me to try, in very difficult and embarrassing circumstances, to minimize as far as possible, and within the limits of his duties, the evils of the system i there observed at work." speaking of the mongalla massacres--those in which lothaire was implicated--he quotes from the judgment of the court of appeal: "that it is just to take into account that, by the correspondence produced in the case, the chiefs of the concession company have, if not by formal orders, at least by their example and their tolerance, induced their agents to take no account whatever of the rights, property, and lives of the natives; to use the arms and the soldiers which should have served for their defence and the maintenance of order to force the natives to furnish them with produce and to work for the company, as also to pursue as rebels and outlaws those who sought to escape from the requisitions imposed upon them.... that, above all, the fact that the arrest of women and their detention, to compel the villages to furnish both produce and workmen, was tolerated and admitted even by certain of the administrative authorities of the region." yet another example of the workings of the system: "in the morning, when about to start for k----, many people from the surrounding country came in to see me. they brought with them three individuals who had been shockingly wounded by gun fire, two men and a very small boy, not more than six years of age, and a fourth--a boy child of six or seven--whose right hand was cut off at the wrist. one of the men, who had been shot through the arm, declared that he was y of l----, a village situated some miles away. he declared that he had been shot as i saw under the following circumstances: the soldiers had entered his town, he alleged, to enforce the due fulfilment of the rubber tax due by the community. these men had tied him up and said that unless he paid 1,000 brass rods to them they would shoot him. having no rods to give them they had shot him through the arm and had left him." i may say that among my photographs are several with shattered arms who have been treated in this fashion. this is how the natives were treated when they complained to the white man: "in addition, fifty women are required each morning to go to the factory and work there all day. they complained that the remuneration given for these services was most inadequate, and that they were continually beaten. when i asked the chief w why he had not gone to d f to complain if the sentries beat him or his people, opening his mouth he pointed to one of the teeth which was just dropping out, and said: 'that is what i got from the d f four days ago when i went to tell him what i now say to you.' he added that he was frequently beaten, along with others of his people, by the white man." one sentry was taken almost red-handed by mr. casement: "after some little delay a boy of about fifteen years of age appeared, whose left arm was wrapped up in a dirty rag. removing this, i found the left hand had been hacked off by the wrist, and that a shot hole appeared in the fleshy part of the forearm. the boy, who gave his name as i i, in answer to my inquiry, said that a sentry of the la lulanga company now in the town had cut off his hand. i proceeded to look for this man, who at first could not be found, the natives to a considerable number gathering behind me as i walked through the town. after some delay the sentry appeared, carrying a cap-gun. the boy, whom i placed before him, then accused him to his face of having mutilated him. the men of the town, who were questioned in succession, corroborated the boy's statement. the sentry, who gave his name as k k, could make no answer to the charge. he met it by vaguely saying some other sentry of the company had mutilated i i; his predecessor, he said, had cut off several hands, and probably this was one of the victims. the natives around said that there were two other sentries at present in the town, who were not so bad as k k, but that he was a villain. as the evidence against him was perfectly clear, man after man standing out and declaring he had seen the act committed, i informed him and the people present that i should appeal to the local authorities for his immediate arrest and trial." the following extract must be my final quotation from consul casement's report: "i asked then how this tax was imposed. one of them, who had been hammering out an iron neck-collar on my arrival, spoke first. he said: "'i am n n. these other two beside me are o o and p p, all of us y----. from our country each village had to take twenty loads of rubber. these loads were big: they were as big as this....' (producing an empty basket which came nearly up to the handle of my walking-stick.) 'that was the first size. we had to fill that up, but as rubber got scarcer the white man reduced the amount. we had to take these loads in four times a month.' "_q._ 'how much pay did you get for this?' "_a._ (entire audience.) 'we got no pay! we got nothing!' "and then n n, whom i asked again, said: "'our village got cloth and a little salt, but not the people who did the work. our chiefs eat up the cloth; the workers got nothing. the pay was a fathom of cloth and a little salt for every big basketful, but it was given to the chief, never to the men. it used to take ten days to get the twenty baskets of rubber--we were always in the forest and then when we were late we were killed. we had to go further and further into the forest to find the rubber vines, to go without food, and our women had to give up cultivating the fields and gardens. then we starved. wild beasts--the leopards--killed some of us when we were working away in the forest, and others got lost or died from exposure and starvation, and we begged the white man to leave us alone, saying we could get no more rubber, but the white men and their soldiers said: "go! you are only beasts yourselves; you are nyama (meat)." we tried, always going further into the forest, and when we failed and our rubber was short, the soldiers came to our towns and killed us. many were shot, some had their ears cut off: others were tied up with ropes around their necks and bodies and taken away. the white men sometimes at the posts did not know of the bad things the soldiers did to us, but it was the white men who sent the soldiers to punish us for not bringing in enough rubber.' "here p p took up the tale from n n: "'we said to the white men, "we are not enough people now to do what you want us. our country has not many people in it and we are dying fast. we are killed by the work you make us do, by the stoppage of our plantations, and the breaking up of our homes." the white man looked at us and said: "there are lots of people in mputu"' (europe, the white man's country). '"if there are lots of people in the white man's country there must be many people in the black man's country." the white man who said this was the chief white man at f f----; his name was a b; he was a very bad man. other white men of bula matadi who had been bad and wicked were b c, c d, and d e.' 'these had killed us often, and killed us by their own hands as well as by their soldiers. some white men were good. these were e f, f g, g h, h i, i k, k l.' "these ones told them to stay in their homes and did not hunt and chase them as the others had done, but after what they had suffered they did not trust more any one's word, and they had fled from their country and were now going to stay here, far from their homes, in this country where there was no rubber. "_q._ 'how long is it since you left your homes, since the big trouble you speak of?' "_a._ 'it lasted for three full seasons, and it is now four seasons since we fled and came into the k---country.' "_q._ 'how many days is it from n---to your own country?' "_a._ 'six days of quick marching. we fled because we could not endure the things done to us. our chiefs were hanged, and we were killed and starved and worked beyond endurance to get rubber.' "_q._ 'how do you know it was the white men themselves who ordered these cruel things to be done to you? these things must have been done without the white man's knowledge by the black soldiers.' "_a._ (p p): 'the white men told their soldiers: "you kill only women; you cannot kill men. you must prove that you kill men." so then the soldiers when they killed us' (here he stopped and hesitated, and then pointing to the private parts of my bulldog--it was lying asleep at my feet), he said: 'then they cut off those things and took them to the white men, who said: "it is true, you have killed men."' "_q._ 'you mean to tell me that any white man ordered your bodies to be mutilated like that, and those parts of you carried to him?' "p p, o o, and all (shouting): 'yes! many white men. d e did it.' "_q._ 'you say this is true? were many of you so treated after being shot?' "all (shouting out): 'nkoto! nkoto!' (very many! very many!) "there was no doubt that these people were not inventing. their vehemence, their flashing eyes, their excitement, was not simulated. doubtless they exaggerated the numbers, but they were clearly telling what they knew and loathed. i was told that they often became so furious at the recollection of what had been done to them that they lost control over themselves. one of the men before me was getting into this state now." such is the story--or a very small portion of it--which his majesty's consul conveyed to his majesty's government as to the condition of those natives, who, "in the name of almighty god," we had pledged ourselves to defend! the same damning white book contained a brief account of lord cromer's experience upon the upper nile in the lado district. he notes that for eighty miles the side of the river which is british territory was crowded with native villages, the inhabitants of which ran along the bank calling to the steamer. the other bank (congolese territory), was a deserted wilderness. the "tuquoque" argument which king leopold's henchmen are so fond of advancing will find it hard to reconcile the difference. lord cromer ends his report: "it appears to me that the facts which i have stated above afford amply sufficient evidence of the spirit which animates the belgian administration, if, indeed, administration it can be called. the government, so far as i could judge, is conducted almost exclusively on commercial principles, and, even judged by that standard, it would appear that those principles are somewhat short-sighted." in the same white book which contains these documents there is printed the congolese defence drawn up by m. de cuvelier. the defence consists in simply ignoring all the definite facts laid before the public, and in making such statements as that the british have themselves made war upon natives, as if there were no distinction between war and massacre, and that the british have put a poll-tax upon natives, which, if it be reasonable in amount, is a perfectly just proceeding adopted by all colonial nations. let the possessors of the free state use this system, and at the same time restore the freedom of trade by throwing open the country to all, and returning to the natives that land and produce which has been taken from them. when they have done this--and punished the guilty--there will be an end of anti-congo agitation. beyond this, a large part (nearly half) of the congo reply (_notes sur le rapport de mr. casement, de dec. 11, 1903_), is taken up by trying to show that in one case of mutilation the injuries were, in truth, inflicted by a wild boar. there must be many wild boars in congo land, and their habits are of a singular nature. it is not in the congo that these boars are bred. viii king leopold's commission and its report the immediate effect of the publication as a state paper of the general comment of lord cromer, and of the definite accusations of consul casement, was a demand both in belgium and in england for an official inquiry. lord landsdowne stipulated that this inquiry should be impartial and thorough. it was also suggested by the british government that it should be international in character, and separated from the local administration. very grudgingly and under constant pressure the king appointed a commission, but whittled down its powers to such a point that its proceedings must lose all utility. such were the terms that they provoked remonstrance from men like m. a. j. wauters, the belgian historian of the congo free state, who protested in the _mouvement géographique_ (august 7th, 1904) that such a body could serve no useful end. finally, their functions were slightly increased, but they possessed no punitive powers and were hampered in every direction by the terms of their reference. the _personnel_ of the commission was worthy of the importance of the inquiry. m. janssens, a well-known jurist of belgium, was the president. he impressed all who came in contact with him as a man of upright and sympathetic character. baron nisco's appointment was open to criticism, as he was himself a congo functionary, but save for that fact there was no complaint to make against him. dr. schumacher, a distinguished swiss lawyer, was the third commissioner. the english government applied to have a representative upon the tribunal, and with true congo subtlety the request was granted after the three judges had reached the congo. the englishman, mr. mackie, hurried out, but was only in time to attend the last three sittings, which were held in the lower part of the river, far from the notorious rubber agents. it is worth noting that on his arrival he applied for the minutes of the previous meetings and that his application was refused. in belgium the evidence of the commission has never been published, and it is safe to say that it never will be. fortunately the congo missionaries took copious notes of the proceedings and of the testimony which came immediately under their own notice. it is from their evidence that i draw these accounts. if the congo authorities contest the accuracy of those accounts, then let them confute them forever and put their accusers to confusion by producing the actual minutes which they hold. the first sitting of any length of which there are records is that at bolobo, and extended from november 5th to 12th, 1904. the veteran, mr. grenfell, gave evidence at this sitting, and it is useful to summarize his views as he was one of the men who held out longest against the condemnation of king leopold, and because his early utterances have been quoted as if he were a supporter of the system. he expressed to the commissioners his disappointment at the failure of the congo government to realize the promises with which it inaugurated its career. he declared he could no longer wear the decorations which he had received from the sovereign of the congo state. he gave it as his opinion that the ills the country was suffering from were due to the haste of a few men to get rich, and to the absence of anything like a serious attempt to properly police the country in the interests of the people. he instanced the few judicial officers, and the virtual impossibility of a native obtaining justice, owing to witnesses being compelled to travel long distances, either to leopoldville or boma. mr. grenfell spoke out emphatically against the administrative _régime_ on the upper river, so far as it had been brought under his notice. mr. scrivener, a gentleman who had been twenty-three years on the congo, was the next witness. his evidence was largely the same as the "diary" from which i have already quoted, concerning the condition of the crown domain. many witnesses were examined. "how do you know the names of the men murdered?" a lad was asked. "one of them was my father," was the dramatic reply. "men of stone," wrote mr. scrivener, "would be moved by the stories that are unfolded as the commission probes this awful history of rubber collection." mr. gilchrist, another missionary, was a new witness. his testimony was concerned with the state domain and the concessionnaire area, principally on the lulanga river. he said: "i also told them what we had seen on the ikelemba, of the signs of desolation in all the districts, of the heartrending stories the people told us, of the butcheries wrought by the various white men of the state and companies who had, from time to time, been stationed there among whom a few names were notorious. i pointed out to them the fact that the basin of the ikelemba was supposed to be free-trade territory also, but that everywhere the people of the various districts were compelled to serve the companies of these respective districts, in rubber, gum copal or food. at one out-of-the-way place where we were on the south bank, two men arrived just as we were leaving, with their bodies covered with marks of the chicotte, which they had just received from the trader of bosci because their quantity had been short. i said to the commissaire, given favourable conditions, particularly freedom, there would soon be a large population in these interior towns, the ngombe and mongo." in answer to questions the following facts were solicited: "_unsettled condition of the people._ the older people never seem to have confidence to build their houses substantially. if they have any suspicion of the approach of a canoe or steamer with soldiers they flee. "_chest disease, pneumonia, etc._ these carry off very many. the people flee to the islands, live in the open air, expose themselves to all kinds of weather, contract chills, which are followed by serious lung troubles, and die. for years we never saw a new house because of the drifting population. they have a great fear of soldiers. in the case of many the absence from the villages is temporary; in the case of a few they permanently settle on the north bank of the river. "_want of proper nourishment._ i have witnessed the collecting of the state imposition, and after this was set aside the natives had nothing but leaves to eat." also, that fines, which the commission at once declared to be illegal, were constantly levied on the people, and that these fines had continued after the matter had been reported to the governor-general. in spite of this declaration of illegality, no steps were taken in the matter, and m. de bauw, the chief offender, was by last accounts the supreme executive official of the district. at every turn one finds that there is no relation at all between law and practice in the congo. law is habitually broken by every official from the governor-general downward if the profits of the state can be increased thereby. the only stern enforcement of the laws is toward the foreigner, the austrian rubinck, or the englishman stokes, who is foolish enough to think that an international agreement is of more weight than the edicts of boma. these men believed it, and met their death through their belief without redress, and even, in the case of the austrian, without public remonstrance. the next considerable session of the commission was at baringa. mr. harris and mr. stannard, the missionaries at this station, had played a noble part throughout in endeavouring within their very limited powers to shield the natives from their tormentors. in both cases, and also in that of mrs. harris, this had been done at the repeated risk of their lives. their white neighbours of the rubber factories made their lives miserable also by preventing their receipt of food from the natives, and harassing them in various ways. on one occasion a chief and his son were both murdered by the order of the white agent because they had supplied the harris household with the fore-quarter of an antelope. before giving the terrible testimony of the missionaries--a testimony which was admitted to be true by the chief agent of the a.b.i.r. company on the spot, it would be well to show the exact standing of this corporation and its relation to the state. these relations are so close that they become to all intents and purposes the same. the state holds fifty per cent. of the shares; it places the government soldiers at the company's disposal; it carries up in the government steamers and supplies licenses for the great number of rifles and the quantity of cartridges which the company needs for its murderous work. whatever crimes are done by the company, the state is a close accomplice. finally, the european directors of this bloodstained company are, or were at the time, the senator van der nest, who acted as president; and as council: count john d'oultremont, grand marshal of the belgian court; baron dhanis, of congo fame, and m. van eetevelde, the creature of the king, and the writer of so many smug despatches to the british government about the mission of civilization and the high purpose of the congo state. now listen to some of the testimony as condensed by mr. harris: "first, the specific atrocities during 1904 were dealt with, including men, women, and children; then murders and outrages, including cannibalism. from this i passed on to the imprisonment of men, women and children. following this i called attention to the destruction of the baringa towns and the partial famine among the people in consequence. also the large gangs of prisoners--men, women and children--imprisoned to carry out this work; the murder of two men whilst it was being done. next followed the irregularities during 1903. the expedition conducted by an a.b.i.r. agent against samb'ekota, and the arming continually of a.b.i.r. sentries with albini rifles. following this i drew attention to the administration of mons. forcie, whose _régime_ was a terrible one, including the murder of isekifasu, the principal chief of bolima; the killing, cutting up and eating of his wives, son and children; the decorating of the chief houses with the intestines, liver and heart of some of the killed, as stated by 'veritas' in the _west african mail_. "i confirmed in general the letter published in the _west african mail_ by 'veritas.' "following this i came to mons. tagner's time, and stated that no village in this district had escaped murders under this man's _régime_. "next we dealt with irregularities common to all agents, calling attention to and proving by specific instances the public floggings of practically any and every one; quoting, for instance, seeing with my own eyes six ngombe men receive one hundred strokes each, delivered simultaneously by two sentries. "next, the normal condition has always been the imprisoning of men, women and children, all herded together in one shed, with no arrangement for the demands of nature. further, that very many, including even chiefs, had died either in prison or immediately on their release. "next, the mutilation of the woman boaji, because she wished to remain faithful to her husband, and refused to subject herself to the passions of the sentries. the woman's footless leg and hernia testify to the truth of her statement. she appeared before the commission and doctor. "next, the fact that natives are imprisoned for visiting friends and relatives in other villages, and the refusal to allow native canoes to pass up and down river without carrying a permit signed by the rubber agent; pointing out that even missionaries are subject to these restrictions, and publicly insulted, in an unprintable manner, when they do so. "next point dealt with was responsibility--maintaining that responsibility lay not so much in the individual as in the system. the sentry blames the agent, he in turn the director, and so on. "i next called attention to the difficulties to be faced by natives in reporting irregularities. the number of civil officials is too small; the practical impossibility of reaching those that do exist--the native having first to ask permission of the rubber agent. "the relations that are at present necessary between the a.b.i.r. and the state render it highly improbable that the natives will ever report irregularities. i then pointed out that we firmly believe that but for us these irregularities would never have come to light. "following on this the difficulties to be faced by missionaries were dealt with, pointing out that the a.b.i.r. can and do impose on us all sorts of restrictions if we dare to speak a word about their irregularities. i then quoted a few of the many instances which found their climax in mrs. harris and i almost losing our lives for daring to oppose the massacres by van caelcken. it was also stated that we could not disconnect the attitude of the state in refusing us fresh sites with our action in condemning the administration. i then mentioned that the forests are exhausted of rubber, pointing out that during a five days' tour through the forests i did not see a single vine of any size. this is solely because the vines have been worked in such a manner that all the rubber roots need many years' rest, whereas the natives now are actually reduced to digging up those roots in order to get rubber. "the next subject dealt with was the clear violation both of the spirit and letter of the berlin act. in the first place we are not allowed to extend the mission, and, further, we are forbidden to trade even for food. "next the statement was made that, so far as we are aware, no single sentry had ever been punished by the state till 1904 for the many murders committed in this district. "i next pointed out that one reason why the natives object to paddle for the a.b.i.r. is because of the sentries who travel in the a.b.i.r. canoes, and whose only business is to flog the paddlers in order to keep them going. "after mr. stannard had been heard, sixteen esanga witnesses were questioned one by one. they gave clearly the details of how father, mother, brother, sister, son or daughter were killed in cold blood for rubber. these sixteen represented over twenty murders in esanga alone. then followed the big chief of all bolima, who succeeded isekifasu (murdered by the a.b.i.r.). what a sight for those who prate about lying missionaries! he stood boldly before all, pointed to his twenty witnesses, placed on the table his one hundred and ten twigs, each twig representing a life for rubber. 'these are chiefs' twigs, these are men's, these shorter are women's, these smaller still are children's.' he gives the names of scores, but begs for permission to call his son as a reminder. the commission, though, is satisfied with him, that he is telling the truth, and therefore say that it is unnecessary. he tells how his beard of many years' growth, and which nearly reached his feet, was cut off by a rubber agent, merely because he visited a friend in another town. asked if he had not killed a.b.i.r. sentries, he denied it, but owned to his people spearing three of the sentry's boys. he tells how the white man fought him, and when the fight was over handed him his corpses, and said: 'now you will bring rubber, won't you?' to which he replied: 'yes.' the corpses were cut up and eaten by mons. forcie's fighters. he also told how he had been chicotted and imprisoned by the a.b.i.r. agent, and further put to the most menial labour by the agent. "here bonkoko came forward and told how he accompanied the a.b.i.r. sentries when they went to murder isekifasu and his wives and little ones; of finding them peacefully sitting at their evening meal; of the killing as many as they could, also the cutting up and eating of the bodies of isekifasu's son and his father's wives; of how they dashed the baby's brains out, cut the body in half, and impaled the halves. "again he tells how, on their return, mons. forcie had the sentries chicotted because they had not killed enough of the bolima people. "next came bongwalanga, and confirmed bonkoko's story; this youth went to 'look on.' after this the mutilated wife of lomboto, of ekerongo, was carried by a chief, who showed her footless leg and hernia. this was the price she had to pay for remaining faithful to her husband. the husband told how he was chicotted because he was angry about his wife's mutilation. "then longoi, of lotoko, placed eighteen twigs on the table, representing eighteen men, women and children murdered for rubber. next, inunga laid thirty-four twigs on the table and told how thirty-four of his men, women and children had been murdered at ekerongo. he admits that they had speared one sentry, iloko, but that, as in every other such instance, was because iloko had first killed their people. lomboto shows his mutilated wrist and useless hand, done by the sentry. isekansu shows his stump of a forearm, telling the same pitiful story. every witness tells of floggings, rape, mutilations, murders, and of imprisonments of men, women and children, and of illegal fines and irregular taxes, etc., etc. the commission endeavours to get through this slough of iniquity and river of blood, but finding it hopeless, asks how much longer i can go on. i tell them i can go on until they are satisfied that hundreds of murders have been committed by the a.b.i.r. in this district alone; murders of chiefs, men, women and little children, and that multitudes of witnesses only await my signal to appear by the thousand. "i further point out that we have only considered about two hundred murders from the villages of bolima, esanga, ekerongo, lotoko; that by far the greater majority still remain. the following districts are as yet untouched: bokri, nson-go, boru-ga, ekala, baringa, linza, lifindu, nsongo-mboyo, livoku, boendo, the lomako river, the ngombe country, and many others, all of whom have the same tale to tell. every one saw the hopelessness of trying to investigate things fully. to do so, the commission would have to stay here for months." what comment can be added to such evidence as this! it stands in its naked horror, and it is futile to try to make it more vivid. what can any of those english apologists of the congo who have thrown a doubt upon the accounts of outrages because in passing through a section of this huge country upon a flying visit they had not happened to see them--what can lord mountmorris, captain boyd alexander, or mrs. french sheldon say in the face of a mass of evidence with the actual mutilated limbs and excoriated backs to enforce it? can they say more than the man actually incriminated, m. le jeune, the chief agent at the spot? "what have you to say?" asked the president. m. le jeune shrugged his shoulders. he had nothing to say. the president, who had listened, to his honour be it spoken, with tears running down his cheeks to some of the evidence, cried out in amazement and disgust. "there is one document i would put in," said the agent. "it is to show that 142 of my sentinels were slain by the villagers in the course of seven months." "surely that makes the matter worse!" cried the sagacious judge. "if these well-armed men were slain by the defenceless villagers, how terrible must the wrongs have been which called for such desperate reprisals!" you will ask what was done with this criminal agent, a man whose deeds merited the heaviest punishment that human law could bestow. nothing whatever was done to him. he was allowed to slip out of the country exactly as captain lothaire, in similar circumstances, was allowed to slip from the country. an insignificant agent may be occasionally made an example of, but to punish the local manager of a great company would be to lessen the output of rubber, and what are morality and justice compared to that? why should one continue with the testimony given before the commission? their wanderings covered a little space of the country and were confined to the main river, but everywhere they elicited the same tale of slavery, mutilation, and murder. what scrivener and grenfell said at bolobo was what harris and stannard said at baringa, what gilchrist said at lulanga, what rushin and gamman said at bongadanga, what mr. and mrs. lower said at ikan, what padfield said at bonginda, what weeks said at monscombe. the place varied, but the results of the system were ever the same. here and there were human touches which lingered in the memory; here and there also episodes of horror which stood out even in that universal golgotha. one lad testified that he had lost every relative in the world, male or female, all murdered for rubber. as his father lay dying he had given him the charge of two infant brothers and enjoined him to guard them tenderly. he had cared for them until he had been compelled at last to go himself into the forest to gather the rubber. one week their quantity had been short. when he returned from the wood the village had been raided in his absence, and he found his two little brothers lying disembowelled across a log. the company, however, paid 200 per cent. four natives had been tortured until they cried out for some one to bring a gun and shoot them. the chiefs died because their hearts were broken. mr. gamman knew no village where it took them less than ten days out of fifteen to satisfy the demands of the a.b.i.r. as a rule, the people had four days in a month to themselves. by law the maximum of forced labour was forty hours in a month. but, as i have said, there is no relation at all between law and practice in the congo. one witness appeared with a string knotted in forty-two places, and with a packet of fifty leaves. each knot represented a murder and each leaf a rope in his native village. the son of a murdered chief took the body of his father (all names, dates and place specified) to show it to the white agent, in the hope of justice. the agent called his dog and set it on him, the dog biting the son on the leg as he carried the corpse of his father. the villagers brought their murdered men to m. spelier, director of the la lulanga company. he accused them of lying and ordered them off. one chief was seized by two white agents, one of whom held him while the other beat him. when they had finished they kicked him to make him get up, but the man was dead. the commission examined ten witnesses in their investigation of this story. the chief was jonghi, the village bogeka, the date october, 1904. such is a fractional sample of the evidence which was laid before the commission, corroborated by every detail of name, place and date which could enforce conviction. there is no doubt that it did enforce thorough conviction. the judges travelled down the river sadder and wiser men. when they reached boma, they had an interview with governor-general constermann. what passed at that interview has not been published, but the governor-general went forth from it and cut his own throat. the fact may, perhaps, give some indication of how the judges felt when the stories were still fresh in their minds, and their nerves wincing under the horror of the evidence. a whole year elapsed between the starting of the commission and the presentation of their report, which was published upon october 31st, 1905. the evidence which would have stirred europe to its foundations was never published at all, in spite of an informal assurance to lord lansdowne that nothing would be held back. only the conclusions saw the light, without the document upon which they were founded. the effect of that report, when stripped of its courtly phrases, was an absolute confirmation of all that had been said by so many witnesses during so many years. it is easy to blame the commissioners for not having the full courage of their convictions, but their position was full of difficulty. the report was really a personal one. the state was, as no one knew better than themselves, a fiction. it was the king who had sent them, and it was to the king himself that they were reporting upon a matter which deeply affected his personal honour as well as his material interests. had they been, as had been suggested, an international body, the matter would have been simple. but of the three good care had been taken that two should be men who would have to answer for what was said. mr. janssens was a more or less independent man, but a belgian, and a subject all the same. baron nisco was in the actual employ of the king, and his future was at stake. on the whole, i think that the commissioners acted like brave and honest men. naturally they laid all stress upon what could be said in favour of the king and his creation. they would have been more than human had they not done so. they enlarged upon the size and the traffic of the cities at the mouth of the congo--as if the whole loot of a nation could pass down a river without causing commerce and riches at its mouth. very early in the report they indicated that the question of the state appropriation of the land had forced itself upon their notice. "if the state wishes to avoid the principle of the state appropriation of vacant lands resulting in abuse," says the report, "it should place its agents and officials on their guard against too restrictive interpretation and too rigorous applications." weak and trimming, it is true, but it was the cornerstone of all that the king had built, and how were they to knock it rudely out? their attitude was not heroic. but it was natural. they go on: "as the greater portion of the land in the congo is not under cultivation, this interpretation concedes to the state a right of absolute and exclusive ownership over virtually the whole of the land, with this consequence: that it can dispose--itself and solely--of all the products of the soil; prosecute as a poacher any one who takes from that land the least of its fruits, or as a receiver of stolen goods any one who receives such fruit: forbid any one to establish himself on the greater part of the territory. the activity of the natives is thus limited to very restricted areas, and their economic condition is immobilized. thus abusively applied, such legislation would prevent any development of native life. in this manner, not only has the native been often forbidden to shift his village, but he has even been forbidden to visit, even temporarily, a neighbouring village without special permit. a native displacing himself without being the bearer of such an authorization, would leave himself open to arrest, to be taken back and even punished." who could possibly deny, after reading this passage, that the congo native has been reduced from freedom into slavery? there follows a curious sentence: "let us hasten," says the report, "to say that in actual fact so great a rigour has not been shown. almost everywhere certain products of the domain have been abandoned to the natives, notably palm kernels, which form the object of an important export trade in the lower congo." this palm kernel trade is an old-established one, affecting only the mouth of the river, which could not be disturbed without obvious international complications, and which bears no relation to the great upper congo populations, whose inhuman treatment was the question at issue. the report then proceeds to point out very clearly, the all-important fact which arises from the expropriation of the native from the land. "apart from the rough plantations," it says, "which barely suffice, to feed the natives themselves and to supply the stations, all the fruits of the soil are considered as the property of the state or of the concessionnaire societies." this being so, there is an end forever of free trade, or, indeed, of any trade, save an export by the government itself, or by a handful of companies which really represent the government, of the whole wealth of the country to europe for the benefit of a ring of millionaires. having dealt with the taking of the land and the taking of its products, the commission handles with kid gloves the third great root proposition, the forcing of the natives, for nothing, under the name of taxes, for trifles under the absurd name of trade, to work for the sake of their oppressors. it expends many words in showing that natives do not like work, and that, therefore, compulsion is necessary. it is sad to see just and learned men driven to such straits in defending what is indefensible. do the blacks of the rand gold mines like work? do the kimberley diamond hunters like work? do the carriers of an east german caravan like work? no more than the congolese. why, then, do they work? because they are paid a fair wage to do so. because the money earned by their work can bring them more pleasure than the work does pain. that is the law of work the whole world over. notably it is the law on the congo itself, where the missionaries, who pay honestly for work, have no difficulty in getting it. of course, the congolese, like the englishman, or the belgian, does not like work when it is work which brings a benefit to others and none to himself. but in spite of this preamble, the commission cannot escape the actual facts. "numbers of agents only thought of one thing: to obtain as much as possible in the shortest possible time, and their demands were often excessive. this is not at all astonishing, at any rate as regards the gathering of the produce of the domain.... that is to say, the revenues for government; for the agents themselves who regulated the tax and saw to its collection, had a direct interest in increasing its amount, since they received proportional bonuses on the produce thus collected." no more definite statement could be made of the system which had been attacked by the reformers and denied by the congo officials for so many years. the report then goes on to tell that when the state, in one of those pretended reforms which were meant for european, not for congolese, use, allotted forty hours of forced labour per month as the amount which the native owed the state, the announcement was accompanied by a private intimation from the governor-general to the district commissioners, dated february 23rd, 1904, that this new law must have the effect, not of lessening, but "of bringing about a constant increase in the resources of the treasury." could they be told in plainer terms that they were to disregard it? the land is taken, the produce is taken, the labour is taken. in old days the african slave was exported, but we progress with the ages and now a higher intelligence has shown the folly of the old-fashioned methods when it is to easy to enslave him in his own home. we may pass the report of the commission in so far as it deals with the taxation of the natives, food taxes, porterage taxes and other imposts. it brings out very clearly the curse of the parasitic army, with their families, which have to be fed by the natives, and the difficulty which it causes them with their limited plantations to find the means for feeding themselves. even the wood to the state steamers is not paid for, but is taken as a tax. such demands "force the natives in the neighbourhood of the stations in certain cases to an almost continuous labour"--a fresh admission of slave conditions. the report describes the result of the rubber tax in the following terms: "this circumstance [exhaustion of the rubber] explains the repugnance of the native for rubber work, which in itself is not particularly painful. in the majority of cases the native must go one or two days' march every fortnight, until he arrives at that part of the forest where the rubber vines can be met with in a certain degree of abundance. there the collector passes a number of days in a miserable existence. he has to build himself an improvised shelter, which cannot, obviously, replace his hut. he has not the food to which he is accustomed. he is deprived of his wife, exposed to the inclemencies of the weather and the attacks of wild beasts. when once he has collected the rubber he must bring it to the state station or to that of the company, and only then can he return to his village, where he can sojourn for barely more than two or three days, because the next demand is upon him.... it is hardly necessary to add that this state of affairs is a flagrant violation of the forty hours' law." the report deals finally with the question of the punishments meted out by the state. these it enumerates as "the taking of hostages, the imprisonment of the chiefs, the institution of sentries or capitas, fines and military expeditions," the latter being a euphemism for cold-blooded massacres. it continues: "whatever one may think of native ideas, acts such as taking women as hostages outrage too much our ideas of justice to be tolerated. the state has prohibited this practice long ago, but without being able to suppress it." the state prohibits, but the state not only condones, but actually commands it by private circular. again the gap which lies betwixt law and fact where the interest of gain is concerned. "it was barely denied," the report continues, "that in the various posts of the a.b.i.r. which we visited, the imprisonment of women hostages, the subjection of the chiefs to servile labour, the humiliations meted out to them, the flogging of rubber collectors, the brutality of the black employés set over the prisoners, were the rule commonly followed." then follows an illuminative passage about the sentries, capitas or "forest guards," or messengers, as they are alternatively called. it is a wonder that they were not called hospital orderlies in the efforts to make them seem inoffensive. what they actually were was, as we have seen, some twenty thousand cannibals armed with albini repeating rifles. the report says: "this system of native supervisors (_surveillants_) has given rise to numerous criticisms, even on the part of state officials. the protestant missionaries heard at bolobo, ikoko (lake mantumba), lulonga, bonginda, ikau, baringa and bongandanga, drew up formidable accusations against the acts of these intermediaries. they brought before the commission a multitude of native witnesses, who revealed a large number of crimes and excesses alleged to have been committed by the sentinels. according to the witnesses these auxiliaries, especially those stationed in the villages, abuse the authority conferred upon them, convert themselves into despots, claiming the women and the food, not only for themselves but for the body of parasites and creatures without any calling which a love of rapine causes to become associated with them, and with whom they surround themselves as with a veritable bodyguard; they kill without pity all those who attempt to resist their exigencies and whims. the commission was obviously unable in all cases to verify the exactitude of the allegations made before it, the more so that the facts were often several years old. however, truth of the charges is borne out by a mass of evidence and official reports." it adds: "of how many abuses have these native sentinels been guilty it would be impossible to say, even approximately. several chiefs of baringa brought us, according to the native custom, bundles of sticks, each of which was meant to show one of their subjects killed by the capitas. one of them showed 120 murders in his village committed during the last few years. whatever one may think of the confidence with which this native form of book-keeping may inspire one, a document handed to the commission by the director of the a.b.i.r. does not allow any doubt to remain as to the sinister character of the system. it consisted of a list showing that from 1st january to 1st august, 1905--that is to say, within a space of seven months--142 sentries of the society had been killed or wounded by the natives. now, it is to be assumed that in many cases these sentries had been attacked by the natives by way of revenge. one may judge by this of the number of bloody affrays to which their presence had given rise. on the other hand, the agents interrogated by the commission, or who were present at the audiences, did not even attempt to deny the charges brought against the sentinels." that last sentence seems the crown of the arch. if the agents on the spot did not attempt before the commission to deny the outrages who shall venture to do it in their name? the remainder of the report, though stuffed with courtly platitudes and with vague recommendations of reform which are absolutely unpractical, so long as the root causes of all the trouble remain undisturbed, contains a few positive passages which are worth preserving. talking of the want of definite instructions to military expeditions, it says: "the consequences are often very murderous. and one must not be astonished. if in the course of these delicate operations, whose object it is to seize hostages and to intimidate the natives, constant watch cannot be exercised over the sanguinary instincts of the soldiers when orders to punish are given by superior authority, it is difficult that the expedition should not degenerate into massacres, accompanied by pillage and incendiarism." again: "the responsibility for these abuses must not, however, always be placed upon the commanders of military expeditions. in considering these facts one must bear in mind the deplorable confusion still existing in the upper congo between a state of war and a state of peace; between administration and repression; between those who may be regarded as enemies and those who have the right to be regarded as citizens of the state and treated in accordance with its laws. the commission was struck with the general tone of the reports relating to operations described above. often, while admitting that the expedition had been sent out solely for shortage in taxation, and without making allusion to an attack or resistance on the part of the natives, which alone would justify the use of arms, the authors of these reports speak of 'surprising villages,' 'energetic pursuit,' 'numerous enemies killed and wounded,' 'loot,' 'prisoners of war,' 'conditions of peace.' evidently these officers thought themselves at war, acted as though at war." again: "the course of such expeditions grave abuses have occurred; men, women and children have been killed even at the very time they sought safety in flight. others have been imprisoned. women have been taken as hostages." there is an interesting passage about the missionaries: "often also, in the regions where evangelical stations are established, the native, instead of going to the magistrate, his natural protector, adopts the habit when he thinks he has a grievance against an agent or an executive officer, to confide in the missionary. the latter listens to him, helps him according to his means, and makes himself the echo of all the complaints of a region. hence the astounding influence which the missionaries possess in some parts of the territory. it exercises itself not only among the natives within the purview of their religious propaganda, but over all the villages whose troubles they have listened to. the missionary becomes, for the native of the region, the only representative of equity and justice; he adds to the ascendancy acquired from his religious zeal, the prestige which, in the interest of the state itself, should be invested in the magistrates." i will now turn for a moment to contemplate the document as a whole. with the characteristic policy of the congo authorities, it was originally given to the world as being a triumphant vindication of king leopold's administration, which would certainly have been the greatest whitewashing contract ever yet carried through upon this planet. looked at more closely, it is clearly seen that behind the veil of courtly phrase and complimentary forms, every single thing that the reformers have been claiming has been absolutely established. that the land has been taken. that the produce has been taken. that the people are enslaved. that they are reduced to misery. that the white agents have given the capitas a free hand against them. that there have been illegal holdings of hostages, predatory expeditions, murders and mutilations. all these things are absolutely admitted. i do not know that anything more has ever been claimed, save that the commission talks coldly of what a private man must talk of hotly, and that the commission might give the impression that they were isolated acts, whereas the evidence here given and the general depopulation of the country show that they are general, universal, and parts of a single system extending from leopoldville to the great lakes, and from the french border to katanga. be it private domain, crown domain, or concessionnaire territory, be it land of the kasai, the anversoise, the abir, or the katanga companies, the tale still tells of bloodshed and horror. where the commission differs from the reformers is in their estimate of the gravity of this situation and of the need of absolute radical reforms. it is to be borne in mind that of the three judges two had never been in africa before, while the third was a direct servant of the attacked institution. they seem to have vaguely felt that these terrible facts were necessary phases of colonial expansion. had they travelled, as i have done, in british west africa, and had it been brought home to them that a blow to a black man, sierra leone, for example, would mean that one would be taken by a black policeman before a black judge to be handed over to a black gaoler, they would understand that there are other methods of administration. had they ever read of that british governor of jamaica, who, having in the face of dangerous revolt, executed a negro without due forms of law, was recalled to london, tried, and barely escaped with his life. it is by such tension as this that europeans in the tropics, whatever be their nation, must be braced up to maintain their civilized _morale_. human nature is weak, the influence of environment is strong. germans or english would yield and in isolated cases have yielded, to their surroundings. no nation can claim much individual superiority in such a matter. but for both germany and england (i would add france, were it not for the french congo) can claim that their system works as strongly against outrage as the belgian one does in favour of it. these things are not, as the commissioners seemed to think, necessary evils, which are tolerated elsewhere. how can their raw opinion weigh for a moment upon such a point when it is counterbalanced by the words of such reformers as sir harry johnston or lord cromer? the fact is that the running of a tropical colony is, of all tests, the most searching as to the development of the nation which attempts it; to see helpless people and not to oppress them, to see great wealth and not to confiscate it, to have absolute power and not to abuse it, to raise the native instead of sinking yourself--these are the supreme trials of a nation's spirit. we have all failed at times. but never has there been failure so hopeless, so shocking, bearing such consequences to the world, such degradation to the good name of christianity and civilization as the failure of the belgians in the congo. and all this has happened and all this has been tolerated in an age of progress. the greatest, deepest, most wide-reaching crime of which there is any record, has been reserved for these latter years. some excuse there is for racial extermination where, as with saxons and celts, two peoples contend for the same land which will but hold one. some excuse, too, for religious massacre when, like mahomet the second at constantinople, or alva in the lowlands, the bigoted murderers honestly conceived that their brutal work was in the interest of god. but here the real doers have sat remote with cold blood in their veins, knowing well from day to day what they were doing, and with the sole object of adding more to wealth which was already enormous. consider this circumstance and consider also the professions of philanthropy with which the huge massacre was inaugurated, the cloud of lies with which it has been screened, the persecution and calumny of the few honest men who uncovered it, the turning of religion against religion and of nation against nation in the attempt to perpetuate it, and having weighed all this, tell me where in the course of history there is any such story. what is progress? is it to run a little faster in a motor-car, to listen to gabble in a gramophone?--these are the toys of life. but if progress is a spiritual thing, then we do _not_ progress. such a horror as this of belgium and the congo would not have been possible fifty years ago. no european nation would have done it, and if it had, no other one would have failed to raise its voice in protest. there was more decorum and principle in life in those slower days. we live in a time of rush, but do not call it progress. the story of the congo has made the idea a little absurd. ix the congo after the commission the high hopes which the advent of the commission raised among the natives and the few europeans who had acted as their champions, were soon turned to bitter disappointment. the indefatigable mr. harris had sent on after the commission a number of fresh cases which had come to his notice. in one of these a chief deposed that he had been held back in his village (boendo) in order to prevent him from reaching the commission. he succeeded in breaking away from his guards, but was punished for his enterprise by having his wife clubbed to death by a sentry. he brought with him, in the hope that he might lay them before the judges, one hundred and eighty-two long twigs and seventy-six smaller ones, to represent so many adults and children who had been murdered by the a.b.i.r. company in his district during the last few years. his account of the methods by which these unfortunate people met their deaths will not bear printing. the wildest dreams of the inquisition were outdone. women had been killed by thrusting stakes into them from below. when the horrified missionary asked the chief if this was personally known to him, his answer was, "they killed my daughter, nsinga, in this manner; i found the stake in her." and a reputable belgian statesman can write in this year of grace that they are carrying on the beneficent and philanthropic mission which has been handed down to them. in a later communication mr. harris gives the names of men, women and children killed by the sentries of a m. pilaet. "last year," he says, "or the year before, the young woman, imenega, was tied to a forked tree and chopped in half with a hatchet, beginning at the left shoulder, chopping down through the chest and abdomen and out at the side." again, with every detail of name and place, he dwelt upon the horrible fact that public incest had been enforced by the sentries--brother with sister, and father with daughter. "oh, inglesia," cried the chief in conclusion, "don't stay away long; if you do, they will come, i am sure they will come, and then these enfeebled legs will not support me, i cannot run away. i am near my end; try and see to it that they let me die in peace; don't stay away." "i was so moved, your excellency, at these people's story that i took the liberty of promising them, in the name of the congo free state, that you will only kill them in future for crimes. i told them the inspector royal was, i hoped, on his way, and that i was sure he would listen to their story, and give them time to recover themselves." it is terrible to think that such a promise, through no fault of mr. harris, has not been fulfilled. are the dreams of the commissioners never haunted by the thought of those who put such trust in them, but whose only reward has been that they have been punished for the evidence they gave and that their condition has been more miserable than ever. the final practical result of the commission was that upon the natives, and not upon their murderers, came the punishment. m. malfeyt, a royal high commissioner, had been sent out on pretence of reform. how hollow was this pretence may be seen from the fact that at the same time m. wahis had been despatched as governor-general in place of that constermann who had committed suicide after his interview with the judges of the commission. wahis had already served two terms as governor, and it was under his administration that all the abuses the commission had condemned had actually grown up. could king leopold have shown more clearly how far any real reform was from his mind? m. malfeyt's visit had been held up as a step toward improvement. the british government had been assured that his visit would be of a nature to effect all necessary reforms. on arriving in the country, however, he announced that he had no power to act, and only came to see and hear. thus a few more months were gained before any change could be effected. the only small consolation which we can draw from all this succession of impotent ambassadors and reforming committees, which do not, and were never intended to, reform, is that the game has been played and exposed, and surely cannot be played again. a government would deservedly be the laughing-stock of the world which again accepted assurances from the same source. what, in the meanwhile, was the attitude of that a.b.i.r. company, whose iniquities had been thoroughly exposed before the commission, and whose manager m. le jeune, had fled to europe? was it ashamed of its bloodthirsty deeds? was it prepared in any way to modify its policy after the revelations which its representatives had admitted to be true? read the following interview which mr. stannard had with m. delvaux, who had visited the stations of his disgraced colleague: "he spoke of the commission of inquiry in a contemptuous manner, and showed considerable annoyance about the things we had said to the commission. he declared the a.b.i.r. had full authority and power to send out armed sentries, and force the people to bring in rubber, and to imprison those who did not. a short time ago, the natives of a town brought in some rubber to the agent here, but he refused it because it was not enough, and the men were thrashed by the a.b.i.r. employees, and driven away. the director justified the agent in refusing the rubber because the quantity was too small. the commissioners had declared that the a.b.i.r. had no power to send armed sentries into the towns in order to flog the people and drive them into the forests to seek rubber; they were 'guards of the forest,' and that was their work. when we pointed this out to m. delvaux, he pooh-poohed the idea, and said the name had no significance; some called the sentries by one name, some by another. we pointed out that the people were not compelled to pay their taxes in rubber only, but could bring in other things, or even currency. he denied this, and said that the alternative tax only meant that an agent could impose whatever tax he thought fit. it had no reference whatever to the natives. the a.b.i.r. preferred the taxes to be paid in rubber. this is what the a.b.i.r. says, in spite of the interpretation by baron nisco, the highest judicial authority in the state, that the natives could pay their taxes in what they were best able. all these things were said in the presence of the royal high commissioner, who, whether he approved or not, certainly did not contradict or protest against them." within a week or two of the departure of the commission the state of the country was as bad as ever. it cannot be too often repeated that it was not local in its origin, but that it occurred there, as elsewhere, on account of pressure from the central officials. if further proof were needed of this it is to be found in the van caelchen trial. this agent, having been arrested, succeeded in showing (as was done in the caudron case) that the real guilt lay with his superior officers. in his defence he "bases his power on a letter of the commissaire-général de bauw (the supreme executive officer in the district), and in a circular transmitted to him by his director, and signed 'constermann' (governor-general), which he read to the court, deploring the diminished output in rubber, and saying that the agents of the a.b.i.r. should not forget that they had the same powers of '_contrainte par corps_' (bodily detention) as were delegated to the agent of the société commerciale anversoise au congo for the increase of rubber production; that if the governor-general or his commissaire-général did not know what they were writing and what they signed, he knows what orders he had to obey; it was not for him to question the legality or illegality of these orders; his superiors ought to have known and have weighed what they wrote before giving him orders to execute; that bodily detention of natives for rubber was no secret, seeing that at the end of every month a statement of '_contrainte par corps_' (bodily detention) during the month has to be furnished in duplicate, the book signed, and one of the copies transmitted to the government." whilst these organized outrages were continuing in the congo, king leopold, at belgium, had taken a fresh step, which, in its cynical disregard for any attempt at consistency, surpassed any of his previous performances. feeling that something must be done in the face of the finding of his own delegates, he appointed a fresh commission, whose terms of reference were "to study the conclusions of the commission of inquiry, to formulate the proposals they call for, and to seek for practical means for realizing them." it is worth while to enumerate the names of the men chosen for this work. had a european areopagus called before it the head criminals of this terrible business, all of these men, with the exception of two or three, would have been standing in the dock. take their names in turn: van maldeghem, the president--a jurist, who had written on congo law, but had no direct complicity in the crimes; janssens, the president of the former commission, a man of integrity; m. davignon, a belgian politician--so far the selection is a possible one--now listen to the others! de cuvelier, creature of the king, and responsible for the congo horrors; droogmans, creature of the king, administrator of the secret funds derived from his african estates, and himself president of a rubber trust; arnold, creature of the king; liebrechts, the same; gohr, the same; chenot, a congo commissioner; tombeur, the same; fivé, a congo inspector; nys, the chief legal upholder of the king's system; de hemptinne, president of the kasai rubber trust; mobs, an administrator of the a.b.i.r. is it not evident that, save the first three, these were the very men who were on their trial? the whole appointment is an example of that cynical humour which gives a grotesque touch to this inconceivable story. it need not be added that no result making for reform ever came from such an assembly. one can but rejoice that the presence of the small humane minority may have prevented the others from devising some fresh methods of oppression. it cannot be said, however, that no judicial proceedings and no condemnation arose from the actions of the congo commission. but who could ever guess who the man was who was dragged to the bar. on the evidence of natives and missionaries, the whole white hierarchy, from governor-general to subsidized cannibal, had been shown to be blood-guilty. which of them was punished? none of them, but mr. stannard, one of the accusing witnesses. he had shown that the soldiers of a certain m. hagstrom had behaved brutally to the natives. this was the account of lontulu the chief: "lontulu, the senior chief of bolima, came with twenty witnesses, which was all the canoe would hold. he brought with him one hundred and ten twigs, each of which represented a life sacrificed for rubber. the twigs were of different lengths and represented chiefs, men, women and children, according to their length. it was a horrible story of massacre, mutilation and cannibalism that he had to tell, and it was perfectly clear that he was telling the truth. he was further supported by other eye-witnesses. these crimes were committed by those who were acting under the instructions and with the knowledge of white men. on one occasion the sentries were flogged because they had not killed enough people. at one time, after they had killed a number of people, including isekifasu, the principal chief, his wives and children, the bodies, except that of isekifasu, were cut up, and the cannibalistic fighters attached to the a.b.i.r. force were rationed on the meat thus supplied. the intestines, etc., were hung up in and about the house, and a little child who had been cut in halves was impaled. after one attack, lontulu, the chief, was shown the dead bodies of his people, and asked by the rubber agent if he would bring in rubber now. he replied that he would. although a chief of considerable standing, he has been flogged, imprisoned, tied by the neck with men who were regarded as slaves, made to do the most menial work, and his beard, which was of many years' growth, and reached almost to the ground, was cut off by the rubber agent because he visited another town." lontulu was cross-examined by the commission and his evidence was not shaken. here are some of the questions and answers: "president janssens: 'm. hagstrom leur a fait la guerre. il a tué beaucoup d'hommes avec ses soldats.' "to lontulu: 'were the people of monji, etc., given the corpses to eat?' "lontulu: 'yes, they cut them up and ate them.' "baron nisco: 'did they flog you?' "lontulu: 'repeatedly.' "baron nisco: 'who cut your beard off?' "lontulu: 'm. hannotte.' "president janssens: 'did you see sentries kill your people? did they kill many?' "lontulu: 'yes, all my family is finished.' "president: 'give us names.' "lontulu: 'chiefs bokomo, isekifasu, botamba, longeva, bosangi, booifa, eongo, lomboto, loma, bayolo.' "then followed names of women and children and ordinary men (not chiefs). "lontulu: 'may i call my son lest i make a mistake?' "president: 'it is unnecessary; go on.' "lontulu: 'bomposa, beanda, ekila.' "president: 'are you sure that each of your twigs (110) represents one person killed?' "lontulu: 'yes.' "president: 'was isekifasu killed at this time?' "reply not recorded. "president: 'did you see his entrails hanging on his house?' "lontulu: 'yes.' "_question_: 'were the sentries and people who helped given the dead bodies to eat?' "_answer_: 'yes, they ate them. those who took part in the fight cut them up and ate them.... he was _chicotted_ (flogged), and said, "why do you do this? is it right to flog a chief?"' gave a very full account of his harsh treatment and sufferings." the action was taken for criminal libel by m. hagstrom against mr. stannard, for saying that this evidence had been given before the commission. of course, the only way to establish the fact was a reference to the evidence itself which lay at brussels. but as hagstrom was only a puppet of the higher government of the congo (which means the king himself), in their attempt to revenge themselves upon the missionaries it was not very likely that official documents would be produced for the mere purpose of serving the end of justice. the minutes then were not forthcoming. how, then, was mr. stannard to produce evidence that his account was correct? obviously by producing lontulu, the chief. but the wretched lontulu, beaten and tortured, with his beard plucked off and his spirit broken, had been cast into gaol before the trial, and knew well what would be his fate if he testified against his masters. he withdrew all that he had said at the commission--and who can blame him? so m. hagstrom obtained his verdict and the belgian reptile press proclaimed that mr. stannard had been proved to be a liar. he was sentenced to three months' imprisonment, with the alternative of a £40 fine. even as i write, two more of these lion-hearted missionaries, americans this time--mr. morrison and mr. shepherd--are undergoing a similar prosecution on the congo. this time it is the kasai company which is the injured innocent. but the eyes of europe and america are on the transaction, and m. vandervelde, the fearless belgian advocate of liberty, has set forth to act for the accused. what m. labori was to dreyfus, m. vandervelde has been to the congo, save that it is a whole nation who are his clients. he and his noble comrade, mr. lorand, are the two men who redeem the record of infamy which must long darken the good name of belgium. i will now deal swiftly with the records of evil deeds which have occurred since the time which i have already treated. i say "swiftly" not because there is not much material from which to choose, but because i feel that my reader must be as sated with horrors as i who have to write them. here are some notes of a journey undertaken by w. cassie murdoch, as recently as july and september, 1907. this time we are concerned with the crown domain, king leopold's private estate, of which we have such accounts from mr. clark and mr. scrivener dating as far back as 1894. thirteen years had elapsed and no change! what do these thirteen represent in torture and murder? could all these screams be united, what a vast cry would have reached the heavens. in the congo hell the most lurid glow is to be found in the royal domain. and the money dragged from these tortured people is used in turn to corrupt newspapers and public men--that it may be possible to continue the system. so the devil's wheel goes round and round! here are some extracts from mr. murdoch's report: "i remarked to the old chief of the largest town i came across that his people seemed to be numerous. 'ah,' said he, 'my people are all dead. these you see are only a very few of what i once had.' and, indeed, it was evident enough that his town had once been a place of great size and importance. there cannot be the least doubt that this depopulation is directly due to the state. everywhere i went i heard stories of the raids made by the state soldiers. the number of people they shot, or otherwise tortured to death, must have been enormous. perhaps as many more of those who escaped the rifle died from starvation and exposure. more than one of my carriers could tell of how their villages had been raided, and of their own narrow escapes. they are not a warlike people, and i could hear of no single attempt at resistance. they are the kind of people the state soldiers are most successful with. they would rather any day run away than fight. and in fact, they have nothing to fight with except a few bows and arrows. i have been trying to reckon the probable number of people i met with. i should say that five thousand is, if anything, beyond the mark. a few years ago the population of the district i passed through must have been four times that number. on my return march i was desirous of visiting mbelo, the place where lieutenant massard had been stationed, and in which he committed his unspeakable outrages. on making inquiries, however, i was told that there were no people there now, and that the roads were all 'dead.' on reaching one of the roads that led there, it was evident enough that it had not been used for a long time. later on, i was able to confirm the statement that what had once been a district with numerous large towns, was now completely empty.... "with the exception of a few people living near the one state post now existing on this side of the lake, who supply the state with _kwanga_ and large mats, all the people i saw are taxed with rubber. the rubber tax is an intolerable burden--how intolerable i should have found it almost impossible to believe had i not seen it. it is difficult to describe it calmly. what i found was simply this: the _'tax' demands from twenty to twenty-five days' labour every month_. there never was a 'forty hours per month labour law' in the crown domain, and so long as the tax is demanded in rubber, there never will be--at least in the section of it i visited. if that law were applied, no rubber would, or could possibly, be produced, for the simple reason that _there is no rubber left in this section of the domain_. "it was some time before i made the discovery that in the domaine de la couronne west of lake leopold there is no rubber. on my way through i was continually meeting numbers of men going out on the hunt for rubber, and heard with amazement the distance they had to walk. it seemed so impossible that i was somewhat sceptical of the truth of what i was told. but i heard the same story so often, and in so many different places, that i was at last obliged to accept it. on my return i followed up this track, and found that it was all true. and i found also that the rubber is collected from the domaine privé in forests from ten to forty miles beyond the boundary of the crown domain. "once the vines had been found the working of the rubber is a small part of the labour. i have made a careful calculation of the distance the people i met have to walk, and i find that the average _cannot be less than 300 miles there and back_. but walking to the forest and back does not occupy from twenty to twenty-five days per month. they will cover the 300 miles in ten or twelve days. the rest of the time is used in hunting for the vines, and in tapping them when found. i met a party returning with their rubber who had been six nights in the forest. this was the lowest number. _most of them have to spend ten, some as many as fifteen, nights in the forest._ two days after i left the domain on my way back i saw some men returning empty-handed. they had been hunting for over eight days and had found nothing. what the poor wretches would do i cannot imagine. if they failed to produce the usual amount of rubber on the appointed day they would be put in '_bloc_' (imprisoned). "the workmen of the _chef de poste_ at mbongo described a concoction which is sometimes administered to capitas when their tale of rubber is short. the white man chops up green tobacco leaves and soaks them in water. red peppers are added, and a dose of the liquid is administered to defaulting capitas. this wily official manages to get thirteen monthly 'taxes' in the year. at one village i bought a contrivance by which the natives reckon when the tax falls due. pieces of wood are strung on a piece of cane. one piece is moved up every day. on counting them i found there were only twenty-eight. i asked why, and was told that originally there were thirty pieces, but the white man had so often sent on the twenty-eighth day to say the time was up, that at last they took off two. "individual acts of atrocity here have for the most part ceased. the state agents seem to have come to the conclusion that it is a waste of cartridges to shoot down these people. but the whole system is a vast atrocity involving the people in a state of unimaginable misery. one man said to me, 'slaves are happy compared with us. slaves are protected by their masters, they are fed and clothed. as for us--the capitas do with us what they like. our wives have to plant the cassava gardens and fish in the stream to feed us while we spend our days working for bula matadi. no, we are not even slaves.' and he is right. _it is not slavery as slavery was generally understood: it is not even the uncivilized african's idea of slavery. there never was a slavery more absolute in its despotism or more fiendish in its tyranny._" it will be seen that, so far as the people are concerned, the problem is largely solved, the bitterness of death is past. no european intervention can save them. in many places they have been utterly destroyed. but they were the wards of europe, and surely europe, if she is not utterly lost to shame, will have something to say to their fate! x some catholic testimony as to the congo it must be admitted that the roman catholic church, as an organized body, has not raised her voice as she should in the matter of the congo. never was there such a field for a las casas. it was the proudest boast of that church that in the dark days of man's history she was the one power which stood with her spiritual terrors between the oppressor and the oppressed. this noble tradition has been sadly forgotten in the congo, where the missions have themselves, as i understand, done most excellent work, but where the power of the church has never been invoked against the constant barbarities of the state. in extenuation, it may be stated that the chief catholic establishments are down the river and far from the rubber zones. it is important, however, to collect under a separate heading such testimony as exists, for an unworthy attempt has been made to represent the matter as a contest between rival creeds, whereas it is really a contest between humanity and civilization on one side and cruel greed upon the other. the organization of the catholic church is more disciplined, and admits of less individualism than that of those religious bodies which supplied the valiant champions of right in the congo. the simple priests were doubtless as horrified as others, within the limit of their knowledge, but the means of expression were denied them. m. colfs, himself a catholic, said in the belgian chamber: "our missionaries have less liberty than foreign missionaries. they are expected to keep silence.... there is a gag. this gag is placed in the mouth of belgian missionaries." signor santini, the catholic and royalist deputy for rome, has been one of the leaders in the anti-congo movement, and has done excellent work in italy. from his own sources of information he confirms and amplifies all that the english and americans have asserted. speaking in the italian parliament on february 4th, 1907, signor santini said: "i am proud to have been the first to bring the question of the congo before this house. if at the present day we are spared the shame of seeing again officers of our army, valorous and perfectly stainless, serving under and at the orders of an association of sweaters, slave-holders and barbarians, it is legitimate for me to declare that i have, if only modestly, at least efficaciously, co-operated in this result." there is no conflict of creeds in such an utterance as that. catholic papers have occasionally spoken out bravely upon the subject. _le patriote_, of brussels (royalist and catholic), in its issue of february 28th, 1907, has an indignant editorial: "the rebellion in the a.b.i.r. territory extends. the government itself forces the rubber, and delivers it on the antwerp quay to the brokers of the a.b.i.r.... nothing is altered on the congo. the same abominable measures are adopted; the same outrages take place.... the government is adopting the same measures as in the mongalla, flooding the a.b.i.r. territory with soldiers to utterly smash the people, whom it thinks will then work, and the rubber output be increased.... the memory of these deeds will remain graven in the memory of men, and in the memory of divine vengeance. sooner or later the executioners will have to render an account to god and to history." there is one order of the catholic church which has always had a most noble record in its treatment of native races. these are the jesuits. no one who has read the "history of paraguay," or studied the records of the missions to the red indians of the eighteenth century, can forget the picture of unselfish devotion which they exhibit. father vermeersch, a worthy successor of such predecessors, has published a book, "la question congolaise," in which he finds nothing incompatible between his position as a catholic and his exposure of the abuses of the congo. in all points the position of father vermeersch and of the english reformers appears to be identical. on the rightful possession of the land by the natives he writes in terms which might be a paragraph from mr. morel: "on the congo the land cannot be supposedly vacant. presumption is in favour of occupation, of a full occupation. by this is meant that it is not sufficient to recognize to the natives rights of tenure over the land they actually cultivate, or certain rights of usage--wood-cutting, hunting, fishing--on the remainder of the territory; but these rights of usage, which are much more important than with us, appear to imply a full _animus domini_, and to signify a complete appropriation, which is carried out amongst us in different fashion. it is not, in effect, indispensable in natural law that i should exhaust the utility of an article or of land in order to be able to claim it as my own; it suffices that i should make use of it in a positive manner, but of my own will, personally, and that i should have the will to forbid any stranger to use it without my consent. hence effective occupation is joined to intention, and all the constituent elements to a valid title of property exist. let us suppose, moreover, that some great belgian landowner wishes to convert portions of his property into sporting land--that land, nevertheless, remains in his entire possession. amongst the congo natives, no doubt, occupation is usually collective; but such occupation is as worthy of respect as no matter what individual appropriation." he continues: "to whom does the rubber belong which grows upon the land occupied by the congo natives? to the natives, and to no one else, without their consent and just compensation." again: "to sum up, we recognize it with much regret, the state's appropriation of so-called vacant land on the congo confronts us with an immense expropriation." he makes a bold attack upon king leopold's own preserve: "humanity, whose cause we plead, christian rights, whose principles we endeavour to inculcate, compel us to touch briefly upon a curious and mysterious creation which is peculiar to the congo state--the _domaine de la couronne_." "what are the revenues of this mysterious civil personality? estimates, more or less conjectural in nature, elaborated by m. cattier appear to establish the profits from the exploitation of rubber alone, at eight to nine millions of francs per annum. m. le comte de smet de naeyer reduces this figure to four or five millions. short of positive data one can only deal in conjectures. but we regret still more that an impenetrable veil hides from sight all that takes place in the territory of this _domaine_. it is eight or ten times the size of belgium, and throughout this vast extent of territory there is neither missionary nor magistrate." only one missionary at that date had entered this dark land, and his exclamation was: "the bulgarian atrocities are child's play to what has taken place here." father vermeersch then proceeds to deal with the congo balance-sheets. his criticism is most destructive. he shows at considerable length, and with a fine grasp of his subject, that there is really no connection at all between the so-called estimate and the actual budget. in the course of the state's development there is an excess running to millions of pounds which has never been accounted for. in this father vermeersch is in agreement with the equally elaborate calculations of professor cattier, of brussels. he puts the economical case in a nutshell thus: "x----, district commissioner, commits every day dozens of offences against individual liberty. what can be done? these violations of the law are necessitated by a great enterprise which must have workmen. in such cases the intervention of the magistrate would be a ruinous imprudence, calculated to bring trouble into the region." "but the law?" "oh, law in the congo is not applicable!" "but if you offered a decent remuneration, would you not get free labour?" "that is precisely what the state will not listen to. it maintains that the enterprise must be carried out for nothing!" and disposes once again of the "forty hours a month" fiction: "it is impossible for the state to obtain the amount of rubber it sells annually, by labour limited to forty hours a month, especially when it is borne in mind that a number of these hours are absorbed in other _corvées_. of two things one, therefore. either the surplus is furnished freely; and if so, how can coercion be logically argued? or this supplementary labour is forced; and if so, the law of forty hours is shown to be merely a fraud." he shows the root causes of the evil: "so long as an inflexible will fixes in advance the quantity of rubber to be obtained; so long as instructions are given in this form: 'increase by five tons your rubber output per month' (instance given by father cus and van hencxthoven in their report), we cannot await with confidence a serious improvement, which is the desire of all...." "the governor-general dismisses and appoints magistrates at his will, suspends the execution of penalties; even sends back, if need be, gentlemen of the gown to europe. who does not realize the grave inconvenience of this dependence? that is not all. no proceedings can be attempted against a european without the authority of the governor-general." and, finally, his reasons for writing his book: "the contemplation of an immeasurable misery has caused us to publish this book. the gravity of the evil, its roots causes, had long escaped us. when we knew them we could not retain within ourselves the compassion with which we were imbued, and we resolved to tell the citizens of a generous country, appealing to their religion, to their patriotism, to their hearts." surely after such evidence from such a source there must be some heart-searchings among those higher members of the catholic hierarchy, including both cardinals and bishops, who have done what they could to cripple the efforts of the reformers. misinformed through their own want of care in searching for the truth, they have stood before the whole world as the defenders of that which will be described by the historian as the greatest crime in history. xi the evidence up to date i shall now append some extracts from the reports of several british vice-consuls and consuls sent in during the last few years. these bear less upon outrages, which have admittedly greatly decreased, but mainly upon the general condition of the people, which is one of deplorable poverty and misery--a slavery without that care which the owner was bound to exercise over the health and strength of the slave. i shall give without comment some extracts from the reports of vice-consul mitchell, which date from july, 1906: "most of the primitive bridges over the numerous creeks and marshes had rotted away, and we had some difficulty in crossing on fallen trees or a few thin sticks. this was the case all the way to banalya, and i may here state that this condition of the roads, even of the most frequented, is universal in this province. the reason is that the local authorities have neither men, means, nor time at their disposal for the making of decent roads. _the parsimony of the state in this respect is the more remarkable in the 'domaine privé,' whence large amounts are derived, and where next to nothing is expended._ "so long as the policy of the state government is to extract all it can from the country, while using only local materials, and spending the least possible amount on development and improvements, no increase in the general well-being can be expected.... "... at all the posts on the north (right) bank, between yambuya and basoko, i found the european agents absent in the interior, and at basoko itself only the doctor was left in charge, all the rest of the staff _being away_ '_en expédition_,' that is, on punitive expeditions. "i stayed at basoko for five days, partly at dr. grossule's request, and partly in the endeavour to learn something of the operations going on in the interior. three canoe-loads of prisoners arrived, all heavily loaded with chains. but all i could learn was that they were sent in by lieutenant baron von otter, who had been sent to the promontory lying between the mouth of the aruwimi and the congo to enforce the labour ordinances. "in all the basenji villages through which i have passed on my two journeys, the natives assert that it _takes them three weeks every month to find and make their tale of rubber, besides taking it once every three months to the state post, from four to six days distant_. "this country is taxed to the utmost, not one penny of the proceeds of which is spent on the roads. this condition of the most important highway in the province is nothing less than disgraceful, and yet this is the road of which the authorities are really proud. "thus, with the exception of a trivial payment for some things, the government carries on the work of the country at no expense beyond the wages and the european rations of the white agents, and these are excessively few in number. it is true there are the _force publique_ and some _travailleurs_. these are recruited by conscription and receive pay and rations, but it is at the lowest possible rate.... "coming to the basenji, the following particulars of a village in the forest will show their liabilities. this village has fourteen adult males; its neighbour, which works with it, the chiefs being brothers, has nine. each man has to take to the state post a large basket, holding about twenty-five pounds of rubber, once every month and a half. to get this rubber, though they find it only one day's journey distant, takes them thirty days. it then takes them five days to carry it to the state post, and three days to return. thus they spend thirty-eight days out of forty-five in the compulsory service of the state. for the basket of rubber they receive 1 kilog. of salt, nominally worth 1 fr. the chief receives 1 kilog. of salt for the whole. if the rubber is deficient in quality or quantity, the man is liable to be whipped and imprisoned without trial. as it is supposed to be the equivalent of the forty hours' monthly labour, i fail to see by what right the man can be held responsible for the quality, even if he wilfully adulterates it with other substances. "the people are all disheartened, and are unanimously of the opinion that they were better off under the arabs, whose rule was intermittent, and from whom they could run away.... "i must say that during more than nineteen years' experience in northern and central africa, _i have never seen such a miserably poor lot as the basenji in this state_.... "it is perfectly clear that the inspectors, however conscientious, hard-working, and faithful they may be, _cannot remedy the excessive impositions on the natives under the present system_.... "the grant of land and seed to the natives is of _absolutely no use_ to them _till they are left time to use them_.... "to say that the state cannot afford the expense is absurd. the congo is taxed unmercifully, and i do not suppose any country has less money spent upon it. the taxpayer gets literally nothing in return for the life of practical slavery he has to spend in the support of the government. "if trade and navigation were really free, and guarded by proper police, german trade through ujiji, which already exists to some extent, might be greatly developed, as well as that with the british colonies and zanzibar. "the operations of the dutch traders, who up to a few months ago had quite a considerable fleet of steamers on the upper congo and its affluents, and of the french at brazzaville, and of the portuguese, would also benefit greatly. "_all these have practically disappeared from the upper congo._ "here, as elsewhere, the natives appeared to me to be so heavily taxed as to be depressed and to regard themselves as practically enslaved by the 'bula matadi.' the incessant call for rubber, food and labour, leaves them no respite nor peace of mind." the following are extracts from vice-consul armstrong's report, dated october, 1906: "as the result of my journey through this portion of the country, i am forced to the conclusion that the condition of the people in the a.b.i.r. territory _is deplorable_, and although those living in the vicinity of the mission stations are, comparatively speaking, safe from ill-treatment by the rubber agents and their armed sentries, those in other parts are subjected to the gravest abuses. "there is no free labour, the natives being forced to work at a totally inadequate wage. in visiting the various rubber-working towns, one would expect to see some signs of european commodities that had been given in exchange for the millions of pounds' worth of rubber that has been extracted from them, but the native residents possess actually nothing at all. "_their conditions of living are deplorable_, and the filth and squalor of their villages is only too apparent. _the people live in a state of uncertainty as to the advent of police officers and soldiers, who invariably chase them from their abodes and destroy their huts, and for this reason it is impossible for them to better their condition of living by the construction of suitable dwellings._ "_no change of system to be looked for._ "no change in the existing system can be looked for until a more reasonable method of taxation is adopted. the present system permits the rubber agents to extract the largest possible quantity of rubber from the native at the lowest possible wage, and allows the employment of armed sentries to enforce this deplorable system." in these despatches vice-consul armstrong gives evidence of a plot against the sturdy mr. stannard upon the part of the infamous a.b.i.r. company. their idea, no doubt, was to break down his health and embitter his existence by successive law-suits. in may of 1906, the natives of a village called lokongi rose up against his murderous sentries and burned their houses. a charge was at once made against mr. stannard of having instigated them to this very natural and commendable action. natives had been suborned or terrified into giving evidence against him, and it might have gone ill with him had it not been for the prompt action of the consul. he set off for the village, accompanied by mr. stannard and the a.b.i.r. director. the natives were assembled and asked to speak the truth. they said, without hesitation, that mr. stannard had had nothing to do with the matter, but that the representatives of the company had threatened to torture them unless they said that he had. the a.b.i.r. director held his peace before these revelations and had no explanation to offer. consul armstrong then pointed out to the public prosecutor in good, straight terms, which his official superiors might well imitate, that the matter had gone far enough, that english patience was almost exhausted, and that mr. stannard should be baited no longer. the case was dropped. i shall pass straight on now to the most recent reports received from the congo, to show that there is no difference at all in the general condition, so far as it is reported by the impartial men at the spot, save that the actual killings and maimings have decreased. the great oppression and misery of the people seem to grow rather than abate. the following extracts are from consul thesiger's report of his experiences in the kasai company's district. this company, it may be worth remarking, has paid the enormous dividend of seven hundred per cent. the first paragraph may be commended to the consideration of those british or american travellers who, on the strength of a flying visit, venture to contradict the experience of those white men who spend their lives in the country: "although from the evidence of state officials it has been proved that individual cases of abuses are not infrequent even at these posts, the chance traveller will certainly see nothing of them, and when he judges of the condition of the country by what he actually sees at these stations, his opinions may be perfectly honest, but they are absolutely worthless. it is as though some well-meaning person, who had heard that a certain fashionable firm was making a fortune by sweated labour, were to venture to deny the facts because a cursory visit to the west end establishment showed that the salesmen behind the counter were well-dressed and well-nourished, ignoring altogether the festering misery of the sweaters' dens in which every article sold over that counter was made up." after showing that the kasai company, in their haste for wealth (and, perhaps, in their foresight, as knowing that their occupancy may be brought to an end), are cutting down the rubber vines instead of tapping them (illegal, of course, but what does that matter where belgian concessionnaires are in question), goes on to show the pressure on the people: "the work is compulsory; it is also incessant. the vines have to be sought out in the forest, cut down and disentangled from the high-growing branches, divided into lengths, and carried home. this operation has to be continually repeated, as no man can carry a larger quantity of the heavy vine lengths than will keep him occupied for two or three days. accidents are frequent, especially among the bakuba, who are large-built men, hunters and agriculturists by nature, and unaccustomed to tree climbing. large as the bakuba villages still are, the population is diminishing. here there is no sleeping sickness to account for the decrease, there have been no epidemics of late years; exposure, overwork, and shortage of proper food alone are responsible for it. the bakuba district was formerly one of the richest food-producing regions in the country, maize and millet being the staple crops, together with manioc and other plants. so much so was this the case that the mission at luebo used to send there to buy maize. under the present _régime_ the villagers are not allowed to waste in cultivating, hunting or fishing--time which should be occupied in making rubber. "in a few villages they were cultivating by stealth small patches in the forest, where they were supposed to be out cutting the rubber vines; but everywhere else it was the same story: the capitas would not allow them time to clear new ground for cultivation, or permit them to hunt or fish; if they tried to do so their nets and implements were destroyed. the majority of the capitas, when questioned, acknowledged quite frankly that they had orders to that effect. these villages are living on the produce of the old manioc fields, and are buying food from the bakette. under these circumstances it is not surprising that the population is diminishing. as one woman expressed it: 'the men go out hungry into the forest; when they come back they get sick and die.' the village of ibunge, where formerly the largest market of the district was held weekly, now consists of a collection of hovels, eight of which are habitable, and the market is all but dead." so the capitas are at their old work the same as ever. the congo idea of reforming them has always been to change their name--so by calling a burglar a policeman a great reformation is effected. read, however, the following passage, which shows that if the capita is the same, so also is the agent. the white race is certainly superior, for when the savage sentry's heart relented the white man was able to scourge him back to his inhuman task: "once i had got outside the zone surrounding ibanj, where the villages are not taxed in rubber, i found the capitas, with very few exceptions, were all armed with cap-guns. i met them frequently, escorting the rubber caravans to the company post, or going from village to village collecting the rubber from the centres under their charge and distributing the trade goods for the coming month. i noticed that they invariably carried their guns, and, in fact, i have seldom seen a capita stir outside his own home without his gun. these are the men who are appointed by the kasai company agents to enforce the rubber tax. chosen always from a different race, they have no sympathy with the natives placed under them, and having the authority of the agent behind them they can do as they please, so long as they insure the rubber being brought at the proper times and in sufficient quantities. in the villages they are absolute masters, and the villagers have to supply them gratis with a house, food, palm wine, and a woman. they exercise freely the right of beating or imprisoning the villagers for any imaginary offences or for neglecting their work in any way, and even go as far as imposing fines in cowries on their own account, and confiscating for their own use the cowries paid over by the plaintiff or defendant's family in the case of trial by poison, which, in spite of statements to the contrary recently made in the belgian chamber, are of frequent occurrence in this country. the native cannot complain or obtain satisfaction in any way, as the capita acts in the name of the company, and the company's agent is always threatening them in the name of 'bula-matadi.' if the authorities wish to act in the matter, they might profitably make inquiry into the doings of the capitas at bungueh, bolong, and into those of the zappo zap capita, who appears to exercise the chief control over the villages near ibunge, though he does not live in the latter town. these appear to me to be among the worst where most are bad. the capitas, however, are scarcely to be blamed, as, if they do not extort enough rubber, they are liable in their turn to suffer at the hands of the agent. witness a case at sangela, when it was reported that the capita had some time back been chicotted in the village itself by the agent for not bringing in rubber sufficient. endless cases could be quoted, but these will probably be sufficient to show the methods pursued under the auspices of the kasai company. yet in a letter dated the eighth of march, 1908, we find dr. dreypondt writing reproachfully: "'you know we have no armed sentries, but only tradesmen going, with goods of every kind, and unarmed, through the villages for the purchasing of rubber. we use only one trading principle--_l'offre et la demande_.'" the laws at all points are completely ignored, "and many of the agents not only punish the natives in these ways themselves, but allow their capitas the same privileges. it is only by these means that the natives can be kept at their incessant work." suicide is not natural with african, as it is with some oriental races. but it has come in with the other blessings of king leopold. "at ibanj, for instance, only a day's march from a state post, two bakette from the village of baka-tomba were not long ago imprisoned for shortage of rubber, and were daily taken out under the charge of an armed native to work in the fields with ropes round their necks. one of them, tired of captivity, pretended one day that he saw some animal in a tree and obtained leave from the guard to try and get it. he climbed the tree, tied the rope which was round his neck to a branch and hung himself. he was cut down, and, after a considerable time, was resuscitated, thanks to the medical experience of one of the missionaries. i was able to question the man myself at his village, and the story was also confirmed by the capita." the american flag presents no refuge for the persecuted. "about the same time this same man had the effrontery to take some seven armed natives on to the station of the american mission, during the absence of the missionaries, and demand from the native who was left in charge that he should hand over to him a native, not in his own employ, who had run away in consequence of some dispute, and who he declared was hiding at the mission. the overseer, a sierra leone man, very rightly declared his inability to do so, and said he must await the return of the missionaries. an altercation followed, and the agent struck him twice in the face. the man being a british subject, i told him if he chose to prosecute i would support him, or else i would insist on the agent paying him an indemnity in cloth. as a prosecution would have entailed his going to lusambo, a fifteen days' journey, with every prospect of being kept there some four to six months with all the witnesses while awaiting the hearing of his case, he chose the latter method. the cloth was paid." he continues: "these cases can all be substantiated, and are typical of a certain class of agent which is unfortunately, although not general, far too common. numerous complaints were also made to me in different villages against an agent, not only that he beat and imprisoned the natives for shortage of rubber, but also that he obliged them to supply him with alcohol distilled from palm wine, and was in the habit of taking any of the village women that struck his fancy at the weekly market held on or near his own post. the company, i believe, promised the american mission last may that this man should be removed, but when i passed through he was still there. placed in the power of men like these the natives dare not complain to the authorities, and are entirely helpless." nominally the company makes no punitive expeditions. as a matter of fact they have engaged lukenga, a warlike chief of the neighbourhood, to do it for them. nominally the capitas are not supplied with guns. as a matter of fact they all carry guns, which are declared to be their personal property. at every corner one meets hypocrisy and evasion of law. speaking of the bakuba, the consul says: "although not wanting in physical courage or strength, they are rather an agricultural than a warlike race, and their villages were formerly noted for their well-built and artistically decorated houses and their well-cultivated fields. "it is, however, their misfortune to live in a forest country rich in rubber vines, and they have consequently come under the curse of the concessionary company in the shape of the kasai trust. as a result their native industries are dying out, their houses and fields are neglected, and the population is not only decreasing, but also sinking to the dead-level of the less advanced and less capable races. "there is no doubt that the bakuba are the most oppressed race to-day in the kasai. harassed by their own king in the interest of the rubber company, driven by the agents and their capitas, disarmed and deprived even of the most ordinary rights, they will, if nothing is done to help them, sink to the level of the vicious and degraded bakette. "one asks oneself in vain what benefits these people have gained from the boasted civilization of the free state. one looks in vain for any attempt to benefit them or to recompense them in any way for the enormous wealth which they are helping to pour into the treasury of the state. their native industries are being destroyed, their freedom has been taken from them, and their numbers are decreasing. "the only efforts made to civilize them have been made by the missionaries, who are hampered at every turn." consul thesiger winds up with the remark that as the company has behaved illegally at every turn it has forfeited all claims to consideration and that there is no hope for the country so long as it exists. straight words--but how much more forcibly do they apply to that congo state of which these particular companies are merely an outcome. until it is swept from the map there is no hope for the country. you cannot avoid the rank products while the putridity remains. the next document bearing upon the question is from the rev. h. m. whiteside, from the notorious a.b.i.r. district. i give it in full, that the reader may judge for himself how far the direct belgian rule has altered the situation. "i should like to bring to your notice a few facts regarding the condition of this (a.b.i.r.) district. "after this extensive journey made through the district recently, and particularly the bompona neighbourhood, i found the people working rubber in all the towns visited with the exception of those taxed in provisions. "it is difficult to know which 'tax,' rubber or provisions, is hardest. the rubber workers implored us to free them from rubber, and at one village upon our departure they followed us a considerable distance, and it was difficult to get away from them. the amount of rubber collected is small compared with what was formerly demanded, but i have no doubt it requires one-third of the time of the people to collect it. many of the people of the villages behind bompona were away collecting rubber. we met many of the ionji people in the forest, either actually engaged in their work or hunting for a district where the vines might have escaped other collectors. we also met other villagers in the bush in quest of rubber. almost all the village migrates to the forest--men, many women and children--when rubber is required. "in the light of these facts, how worthless are the assertions that rubber 'tax' has been stopped in the a.b.i.r. territory. "with regard to the provision tax, it was difficult to get any data, but it is easy for one to see the oppressed condition of the people when one comes into contact with them. between the provision tax, porterage and paddlers, i believe that the people of bompona have got very little time to themselves. there is one thing that one cannot help seeing, viz., the mean, miserable appearance of the people residing around the state post of bompona. the houses or huts are in keeping with the owners of them. a very small bale of cloth could take the place of all i saw worn. in all the district i never saw a single brass rod, nor any domestic animals except a few miserable chickens. the extreme poverty of the people is most remarkable. there is no doubt as to their desire to possess european goods, but they have nothing with which to buy except rubber and ivory, which is claimed by the state. "it may be thought that i am painting their condition in too dark colours, but i feel it requires strong words to give a fair idea of the utter hopelessness and abject appearance of the people of bompona, of the people of the villages behind the state post some twenty-five miles away, and in a lesser degree of the rubber workers opposite bompona. "h. m. whiteside. "ikau, "june 15th, 1909." finally, there is the following report from the extreme other end of the country. it is dated june 1st, 1909. the name of the sender, though not published, was sent to the foreign office. he is an american citizen: "i am sorry to say there is need for agitation for the reform of the belgian kwango territory along this frontier. robbing and murder are still being carried on under the rule of the belgian official from popocabacca. last month he came with an armed force to the district of mpangala nlele, two days west of here, to decorate with the congo medal a new chief in the stead of our old friend nlekani. nlekani left a number of sons, but none of them were willing to take the responsibility of the medal chieftainship. they, therefore, placed their villages under the authority of a powerful chief living to the north of them. "the official of the congo government had been insisting for a year that a younger son of the old chief should consent to be the medal chief. this young man, named kingeleza, was a fine, bright fellow, but thinking that, as a younger son, he would lack the necessary authority over the people and would get into trouble with the government if he could not satisfy its requirements, he declined. the belgian official was, however, so insistent that kingeleza had finally agreed in order to avoid a clash with the government. "on his way to make the 'investiture,' the belgian official robbed some villages and killed two men. kingeleza's people, who had gathered together to witness the investiture, hearing of the treatment meted out to the other villages, took fright and fled from their own villages, which the belgians, upon arriving, found deserted. whereupon the soldiers proceeded to ferret the fugitives out of the woods, where they were hiding. twenty were seized, among whom was one of kingeleza's sisters, a young and attractive looking girl. four of the villagers were subsequently released, and the balance marched off with other spoils to popocabacca. the evangelist attached to the american mission, who was absent in the lower congo, had his house broken open and a tent and school materials carried off. "as for kingeleza, some of the belgian soldiers met him in the path and shot him. they did not know that he was kingeleza, and kingeleza is still being sought for by the belgian official. "this same 'chief of brigands,' as i prefer to call him, has just been on another raid for which he even entered portuguese territory within a few hours of where i am writing, wantonly destroying all that he could not carry off. the people had, happily, all escaped before he arrived. the portuguese are reporting this outrage to the governor-general at loanda." xii the political situation i have not in this statement touched upon the financial side of the congo state. a huge scandal lies there--so huge that the limits of it have not yet been defined. i will not go into that morass. if belgians wish to be hoodwinked in the matter, and to have their good name compromised in finance as well as in morality, it is they who in the end will suffer. one may merely indicate the main points, that during the independent life of the congo state all accounts have been kept secret, that no budgets of the last year but only estimates of the coming one have ever been published, that the state has made huge gains, in spite of which it has borrowed money, and that the great sums resulting have been laid out in speculations in china and elsewhere, that sums amounting in the aggregate to at least £7,000,000 of money have been traced to the king, and that this money has been spent partly in buildings in belgium, partly in land in the same country, partly in building on the riviera, partly in the corruption of public men, and of the european and american press (our own being not entirely untarnished, i fear), and, finally, in the expenses of such a private life as has made king leopold's name notorious throughout europe. of the guilty companies the poorest seem to pay fifty and the richest seven hundred per cent. per annum. there i will leave this unsavoury side of the matter. it is to humanity that i appeal, and that is concerned with higher things. before ending my task, however, i would give a short account of the evolution of the political situation as it affected, first, great britain and the congo state; secondly, great britain and belgium. in each case great britain was, indeed, the spokesman of the civilized world. so far as one can trace, no strong protest was raised by the british government at the time when the congo state took the fatal step, the direct cause of everything which has followed, of leaving the honest path, trodden up to that time by all european colonies, and seizing the land of the country as their own. only in 1896 do we find protests against the ill-usage of british coloured subjects, ending in a statement in parliament from mr. chamberlain that no further recruiting would be allowed. for the first time we had shown ourselves in sharp disagreement with the policy of the congo state. in april, 1897, a debate was raised on congo affairs by sir charles dilke without any definite result. our own troubles in south africa (troubles which called forth in belgium a burst of indignation against wholly imaginary british outrages during the war) left us little time to fulfil our treaty obligations toward the natives on the congo. in 1903 the matter forced itself to the front again, and a considerable debate took place in the house of commons, which ended by passing a resolution with almost complete unanimity to the following effect: "that the government of the congo free state, having, at its inception, guaranteed to the powers that its native subjects should be governed with humanity, and that no trading monopoly or privilege should be permitted within its dominions; this house requests his majesty's government to confer with the other powers, signatories of the berlin general act, by virtue of which the congo free state exists, in order that measures may be adopted to abate the evils prevalent in that state." in july of the same year there occurred the famous three days' debate in the belgian house, which was really inaugurated by the british resolution. in this debate the two brave reformers, vandervelde and lorand, though crushed by the voting power of their opponents, bore off all the honours of war. m. de favereau, the minister of foreign affairs, alternately explained that there was no connection at all between belgium and the congo state, and that it was a breach of belgian patriotism to attack the latter. the policy of the congo state was upheld and defended by the belgian government in a way which must forever identify them with all the crimes which i have recounted. no member of the congo administration could ever have expressed the intimate spirit of congo administration so concisely as m. de smet de naeyer, when he said, speaking of the natives: "they are not entitled to anything. what is given them is a pure gratuity." was there ever in the world such an utterance as that from a responsible statesman! in 1885 a state is formed for the "moral and material improvement of the native races." in 1903 the native "is not entitled to anything." the two phrases mark the beginning and the end of king leopold's journey. in 1904 the british government showed its continued uneasiness and disgust at the state of affairs on the congo by publishing the truly awful report of consul casement. this document, circulated officially all over the globe, must have opened the eyes of the nations, if any were still shut, to the true object and development of king leopold's enterprise. it was hoped that this action upon the part of great britain would be the first step toward intervention, and, indeed, lord lansdowne made it clear in so many words that our hand was outstretched, and that if any other nation chose to grasp it, we would proceed together to the task of compulsory reform. it is not to the credit of the civilized nations that not one was ready to answer the appeal. if, finally, we are forced to move alone, they cannot say that we did not ask and desire their co-operation. from this date remonstrances were frequent from the british government, though they inadequately represented the anger and impatience of those british subjects who were aware of the true state of affairs. the british government refrained from going to extremes because it was understood that there would shortly be a belgian annexation, and it was hoped that this would mark the beginning of better things without the necessity for our intervention. delay followed delay, and nothing was done. a liberal government was as earnest upon the matter as its unionist predecessor, but still the diplomatic etiquette delayed them from coming to a definite conclusion. note followed note, while a great population was sinking into slavery and despair. in august, 1906, sir edward grey declared that we "could not wait forever," and yet we see that he is waiting still. in 1908 the long looked-for annexation came at last, and the congo state exchanged the blue flag with the golden star for the tricolour of belgium. immediate and radical reforms were promised, but the matter ended as all previous promises have done. in 1909 m. renkin, the belgian colonial minister, went out to inspect the congo state, and had the frankness before going to say that nothing would be changed there. this assurance he repeated at boma, with a flourish about the "genial monarch" who presided over their destinies. by the time this pamphlet is printed m. renkin will be back, no doubt with the usual talk of minor reforms, which will take another year to produce, and will be utterly futile when reduced to practice. but the world has seen this game too often. surely it will not be made a fool of again. there is some limit to european patience. meanwhile, in this very month of august, 1909, a full year after the annexation by belgium (an annexation, be it mentioned, which will not be officially recognized by great britain until she is satisfied in the matter of reforms), prince albert, the heir to the throne, has returned from the congo. he says: "the congo is a marvellous country, which offers unlimited resources to men of enterprise. in my opinion our colony will be an important factor in the welfare of our country, whatever sacrifices we will have to make for its development. what we must do is to work for the moral regeneration of the natives, ameliorate their material situation, suppress the scourge of sleeping sickness, and build new railways." "moral regeneration of the natives!" moral regeneration of his own family and of his own country--that is what the situation demands. xiii some congolese apologies it only remains to examine some of the congolese attempts to answer the unanswerable. it is but fair to hear the other side, and i will set down such points as they advance as clearly as i can: 1.--_that the congo state is independent and that it is no one else's business what occurs within its borders._ i have, i trust, clearly shown that by the berlin treaty of 1885 the state was formed on certain conditions, and that these conditions as affecting both trade and the natives have not been fulfilled. therefore we have the right to interfere. apart from the treaty this right might be claimed on the general grounds of humanity, as has been done more than once with turkey. 2.--_that the french congo is as bad, and that we do not interfere._ the french colonial system has usually been excellent, and there is, therefore, every reason to believe that this one result of evil example will soon be amended. there, at least, we have no treaty obligation to interfere. 3.--_that the english agitation is due to jealousy of belgian success._ we do not look upon it as success, but the most stupendous failure in history. what is there to be jealous of? is it the making of money? but we could do the same at once in any tropical colony if we stooped to the same methods. 4.--_that it is a plot of the liverpool merchants._ this legend had its origin in the fact that mr. morel, the leader and hero of the cause, was in business in liverpool, and was afterward elected to be a member of the liverpool chamber of commerce. there is, indeed, a connection between liverpool and the movement, because it was while engaged in the shipping trade there that mr. morel was brought into connection with the persons and the facts which moved him to generous indignation, and started him upon the long struggle which he has so splendidly and unselfishly maintained. as a matter of fact, all business men in england have very good reason to take action against a system which has kept their commerce out of a country which was declared to be open to international trade. but of all towns liverpool has the least reason to complain, as it is the centre of that shipping line which (alas! that any english line should do so) conveys the congo rubber from boma to antwerp. 5.--_that it is a protestant scheme in order to gain an advantage over the catholic missions._ in all british colonies catholic missions may be founded and developed without any hindrance. if the congo were british to-morrow, no catholic church, or school would be disturbed. what advantage, then, would the protestants gain by any change? these charges are, as a matter of fact, borne out by catholics as well as by protestants. father vermeersch is as fervid as any english or american pastor. 6.--_that travellers who have passed through the country, and others who reside in the country, have seen no trace of outrages._ such a defence reminds one of the ancient pleasantry of the man who, being accused on the word of three men who were present and saw him do the crime, declared that the balance of evidence was in his favour, since he was prepared to produce ten men who were not present and did not see it. of the white people who live in the country the great majority are in the lower congo, which is not affected by the murderous rubber traffic. their evidence is beside the question. when a traveller passes up the main river his advent is known and all is ready for him. captain boyd alexander passed, as i understand, along the frontier, where naturally one would expect the best conditions, since a discontented tribe has only to cross the line. to show the fallacy of such reasoning i would instance the case of the reverend john howell, who for many years travelled on one of the mission boats upon the main river and during that time never saw an outrage. no doubt he had formed the opinion that his brethren had been exaggerating. then one day he heard an outburst of firing, and turned his little steamer to the spot. this is what he saw: "they were horrified to find the native soldiers of the government under the eyes of their white officers engaged in mutilating the dead bodies of the natives who had just been killed. three native bodies were lying near the river's edge and human limbs were lying within a few yards from the steamer. a state soldier was seen drawing away the legs and other portions of a human body. another soldier was seen standing by a large basket in which were the viscera of a human body. the missionaries were promptly ordered off the beach by the two officers presiding over this human shambles." and this was on the main river, twenty years after the european occupation. 7.--_that land has been claimed by government in uganda and other british colonies._ where land has been so claimed, it has been worked by free labour for the benefit of the african community itself, and not for the purpose of sending the proceeds to europe. this is a vital distinction. 8.--_that odious incidents occur in all colonies._ it is true that no colonial system is always free from such reproach. but the object of the normal european system is to discourage and to punish such abuses, especially if they occur in high places. i have already given the instance of eyre, governor of jamaica, who was tried for his life in england because he had executed a half-caste at a time when there was actual revolt among the black population, of which he was the leader. germany also has not hesitated to bring to the bar of justice any of her officers who have lowered her prestige by their conduct in the tropics. but in the congo, after twenty years of unexampled horror and brutality, not one single officer above the rank of a simple clerk has ever been condemned, or even, so far as i can learn, tried for conduct which, had they been british, would assuredly have earned them the gallows. what chance would lothaire or le jeune have before a middlesex jury? there lies the difference between the systems. 9.--_that the british charges did not begin until the congo became a flourishing state._ since the congo's wealth sprang from this barbarous system, it is natural that they both attracted attention at the same time. rising wealth meant a more rigidly enforced system. 10.--_that the congo state deserves great credit for having prohibited the sale of alcohol to the natives._ it is true that the sale of alcohol to natives should be forbidden in all parts of africa. it is caused by the competition of trade. if a chief desires gin for his ivory, it is clear that the nation which supplies that gin will get the trade, and that which refuses will lose it. this by way of explanation, not of apology. but as there is no trade competition in the congo, they have no reason to introduce alcohol, which would simply detract front the quality and value of their slave population. when compared with the absolute immorality of other congo proceedings, it is clear that the prohibition of alcohol springs from no high motive, but is purely dictated by self-interest. 11.--_that the depopulation is due to sleeping sickness._ sleeping sickness is one of the contributory causes, but all the evidence in this book will tend to show that the great wastage of the people has occurred where the congo rule has pressed heavily upon them. so i bring my task to an end. i look at my statement of the facts and i wince at its many faults of omission. how many specific examples have i left out, how many deductions have i missed, how many fresh sides to the matter have i neglected. it is hurried and broken, as a man's speech may be hurried and broken when he is driven to it by a sense of burning injustice and intolerable wrong. but it is true--and i defy any man to read it without rising with the conviction of its truth. consider the cloud of witnesses. consider the minute and specific detail in the evidence. consider the undenied system which must _prima facie_ produce such results. consider the admissions of the belgian commission. not one shadow of doubt can remain in the most sceptical mind that the accusations of the reformers have been absolutely proved. it is not a thing of the past. it is going on at this hour. the belgian annexation has made no difference. the machinery and the men who work it are the same. there are fewer outrages it is true. the spirit of the unhappy people is so broken that it is a waste of labour to destroy them further. that their conditions have not improved is shown by the unanswerable fact that the export of rubber has not decreased. that export is the exact measure of the terrorism employed. many of the old districts are worked out, but the new ones must be exploited with greater energy to atone. the problem, i say, remains as ever. but surely the answer is at hand. surely there is some limit to the silent complicity of the civilized world? xiv solutions but what can be done? what course should we pursue? let us consider a few possible solutions and the reasons which bear upon them. there is one cardinal fact which dominates everything. it is that _any_ change must be for the better. under their old savage _régime_ as stanley found them the tribes were infinitely happier, richer and more advanced than they are to-day. if they should return undisturbed to such an existence, the situation would, at least, be free from all that lowering of the ideals of the white race which is implied by a belgian occupation. we may start with a good heart, therefore, since whatever happens must be for the better. can a solution be found through belgium? no, it is impossible, and that should be recognized from the outset. the belgians have been given their chance. they have had nearly twenty-five years of undisturbed possession, and they have made it a hell upon earth. they cannot disassociate themselves from this work or pretend that it was done by a separate state. it was done by a belgian king, belgian soldiers, belgian financiers, belgian lawyers, belgian capital, and was endorsed and defended by belgian governments. it is out of the question that belgium should remain on the congo. nor, in face of reform, would belgium wish to be there. she could not carry the burden. when the country is restored to its inhabitants together with their freedom, it will be in the same position as those german and english colonies which entail heavy annual expenditure from the mother country. it is a proof of the honesty of german colonial policy, and the fitness of germany to be a great land-owning power, that nearly all her tropical colonies, like our own, show, or have shown, a deficit. it is easy to show a profit if a land be exploited as spain exploited central america, or belgium the congo. it would always be more profitable to sack a business than to run it. now, if the forced revenue of the congo state disappeared, it would, at a moderate estimate, take a minimum of a million a year for twenty years to bring the demoralized state back to the normal condition of a tropical colony. would belgium pay this £20,000,000? it is certain that she would not. reform, then, is an absolute impossibility so long as belgium holds the congo. what, then, should be done? that is for the statesmen of europe and america to determine. america hastened before all the rest of the world in 1884 to recognize this new state, and her recognition caused the rest of the world to follow suit. but since then she has done nothing to control what she created. american citizens have suffered as much as british, and american commerce has met with the same impediments, in spite of the shrewd attempt of king leopold to bribe american complicity by allowing some of her citizens to form a concessionnaire company and so to share in the unholy spoils. but america has a high moral sense, and when the true facts are known to her, and when she learns to distinguish the outcome of king leopold's dollars from the work of honest publicists, she will surely be ready to move in the matter. it was in crushing pirates that america made her first international appearance upon the world's stage. may it be a precedent. but to bring the matter to a head the british government should surely act with no further delay. the obvious course would appear to be that having prepared the ground by sounding each of the great powers, they should then lay before each of them the whole evidence, and ask that a european congress should meet to discuss the situation. such a congress would surely result in the partition of the congo lands--a partition in which great britain, whose responsibilities of empire are already too vast, might well play the most self-denying part. if france, having given a pledge to rule her congo lands in the same excellent fashion as she does the rest of her african empire, were to extend her borders to the northern bank of the river along its whole course until it turns to the south, then an orderly government might be hoped for in those regions. germany, too, might well extend her east african protectorate, so as to bring it up to the eastern bank of the congo, where it runs to the south. with these large sections removed it would not be difficult to arrange some great native reservation in the centre, which should be under some international guarantee which would be less of a fiasco than the last one. the lower congo and the boma railway would, no doubt, present difficulties, but surely they are not above solution. and always one may repeat that any change is a change for good. such a partition would form one solution. another, less permanent and stable--and to that extent, as it seems to me, less good--is that which is advanced by mr. morel and others. it is an international control of the river, some provision for which is, as i understand, already in existence. the trouble is that what belongs to all nations belongs to no nation, and that when the native risings and general turmoil come, which will surely succeed the withdrawal of belgian pressure, something stronger and richer than an international riverine board will be needed to meet them. i am convinced that partition affords the only chance of solid, lasting amendment. let us suppose, however, that the powers refuse to convene a meeting, and that we are deserted even by america. then it is our duty, as it has often been in the world's history, to grapple single-handed with that which should be a common task. we have often done so before, and if we are worthy of our fathers, we will do it again. a warning and a date must be fixed, and then we must decide our course of action. and what shall that action be? war with belgium? on them must rest the responsibility for that. our measures must be directed against the congo state, which has not yet been recognized by us as being a possession of belgium. if belgium take up the quarrel then so be it. there are many ways in which we can bring the congo state to her knees. a blockade of the congo is one, but it has the objection of the international complications which might ensue. an easier way would be to proclaim this guilty land as an outlaw state. such a proclamation means that to no british subject does the law of that land apply. if british traders enter it, they shall be stopped at the peril of those who stop them. if british subjects are indicted, they shall be tried in our own consular courts. if complications ensue, as is likely, then boma shall be occupied. this would surely lead to that european conference which we are supposing to have been denied us. yet another solution. let a large trading caravan start into the congoland from northern rhodesia. we claim that we have a right to free trade by the berlin treaty. we will enforce our claim. to do so would cut at the very roots of the congo system. if the caravan be opposed, then again boma and a conference. many solutions could be devised, but there is one which will come of itself, and may bring about a very sudden end of the congo power. northern rhodesia is slowly filling up. the railhead is advancing. the nomad south african population, half boers, half english, adventurers and lion hunters, are trekking toward the katanga border. they are not men who will take less than those rights of free entry and free commerce which are, in fact, guaranteed them. only last year twelve boer wagons appeared upon the katanga border and were, contrary to all international law, warned off. they are the pioneers of many more. no one has the right, and no one, save their own government, has the force to keep them out. let the powers of europe hasten to regulate the situation, or some day they may find themselves in the presence of a _fait accompli_. better an orderly partition conducted from paris or berlin, than the intrusion of some piet joubert, with his swarthy followers, who will see no favour in taking that which they believe to be their right. but whichever solution is adopted, the conscience of europe should not be content merely with the safeguarding of the future. surely there should be some punishment for those who by their injustice and violence have dragged christianity and civilization in the dirt. surely, also, there should be compulsory compensation out of the swollen moneybags of the three hundred per cent. concessionnaires for the widows and the orphans, the maimed and the incapacitated. justice cannot be satisfied with less. an international commission, with punitive powers, may be exceptional, but the whole circumstances are exceptional, and europe must rise to them. the fear is, however, that it is the wretched agents on the spot, the poor driven bonus-hunters who will be offered up as victims, whereas the real criminals will escape. the curse of blood and the scorn of every honest man rest upon them already. would that they were within the reach of human justice also! they have been guilty of the sack of a country, the spoliation of a nation, the greatest crime in all history, the greater for having been carried out under an odious pretence of philanthropy. surely somehow, somewhere, they will have their reward! appendix note i--the chicotte chicotting is alluded to in congo annals as a minor punishment, freely inflicted upon women and children. it is really a terrible torture, which leaves the victim flayed and fainting. there is a science in the administration of it. félicien challaye tells of a belgian officer who became communicative upon the subject. "one can hardly believe," said the brute, "how difficult it is to administer the chicotte properly. one should spread out the blows so that each shall give a fresh pang. then we have a law which forbids us to give more than twenty-five blows in one day, and to stop when the blood flows. one should, therefore, give twenty-four of the blows vigorously, but without risking to stop; then at the twenty-fifth, with a dexterous twist, one should make the blood spurt." ("le congo français," challaye.) the twenty-five lash law, like all other laws, has no relation at all to the proceedings in the upper congo. monsieur stanislas lefranc, judge on the congo, and one of the few men whose humanity seems to have survived such an experience, says: "every day, at six in the morning and two in the afternoon, at each state post can be seen, to-day, as five or even ten years ago, the savoury sight which i am going to try to depict, and to which new recruits are specially invited. "the chief of the post points out the victims; they leave the ranks and come forward, for at the least attempt at flight they would be brutally seized by the soldiers, struck in the face by the representative of the free state and the punishment would be doubled. trembling and terrified, they stretch themselves face down before the captain and his colleagues; two of their companions, sometimes four, seize them by their hands and feet and take off their waistcloth. then, armed with a lash of hippopotamus hide, similar to what we call a cow-hide, but more flexible, a black soldier, who is only required to be energetic and pitiless, flogs the victims. "every time the executioner draws away the chicotte a reddish streak appears upon the skin of the wretched victims who, although strongly built, gasp in terrible contortions. "often the blood trickles, more rarely fainting ensues. regularly and without cessation the chicotte winds round the flesh of these martyrs of the most relentless and loathsome tyrants who have ever disgraced humanity. at the first blows the unhappy victims utter terrible shrieks which soon die down to low groans. in addition, when the officer who orders the punishment is in a bad humour, he kicks those who cry or struggle. some (i have witnessed the thing), by a refinement of brutality, require that, at the moment when they get up gasping, the slaves should graciously give the military salute. this formality, not required by the regulations, is really a part of the design of the vile institution which aims at debasing the black in order to be able to use him and abuse him without fear."--"le régime congolais," liége, lefranc. the keepers of the king's peace by edgar wallace ward, lock & co., limited london and melbourne printed in great britain by the whitefriars press ltd., london and tonbridge contents chap. page i bones, sanders and another 5 ii bones changes his religion 28 iii the maker of storms 53 iv bones and the wireless 75 v the remedy 99 vi the medicine man 117 vii bones, king-maker 135 viii the tamer of beasts 154 ix the mercenaries 169 x the waters of madness 191 xi eye to eye 215 xii the hooded king 233 to pat (p. m. c. w.) the keepers of the king's peace chapter i bones, sanders and another to isongo, which stands upon the tributary of that name, came a woman of the isisi who had lost her husband through a providential tree falling upon him. i say "providential," for it was notorious that he was an evil man, a drinker of beer and a favourite of many bad persons. also he made magic in the forest, and was reputedly the familiar of bashunbi the devil brother of m'shimba-m'shamba. he beat his wives, and once had set fire to his house from sheer wickedness. so that when he was borne back to the village on a grass bier and the women of his house decked themselves with green leaves and arm in arm staggered and stamped through the village street in their death dance, there was a suspicion of hilarity in their song, and a more cheery step in their dance than the occasion called for. an old man named d'wiri, who knew every step of every dance, saw this and said in his stern way that it was shameless. but he was old and was, moreover, in fear for the decorum of his own obsequies if these outrageous departures from custom were approved or allowed to pass without reprimand. when m'lama, the wife of g'mami, had seen her lord depart in the canoe for burial in the middle island and had wailed her conventional grief, she washed the dust from her body at the river's edge and went back to her hut. and all that was grief for the dead man was washed away with the dust of mourning. many moons came out of the sky, were wasted and died before the woman m'lama showed signs of her gifts. it is said that they appeared one night after a great storm wherein lightning played such strange tricks upon the river that even the old man d'wiri could not remember parallel instances. in the night the wife of a hunter named e'sani-osoni brought a dying child into the hut of the widow. he had been choked by a fish-bone and was _in extremis_ when m'lama put her hand upon his head and straightway the bone flew from his mouth, "and there was a cry terrible to hear--such a cry as a leopard makes when he is pursued by ghosts." a week later a baby girl fell into a terrible fit and m'lama had laid her hand upon it and behold! it slept from that moment. ahmet, chief of the government spies, heard of these happenings and came a three days' journey by river to isongo. "what are these stories of miracles?" he asked. "_capita_," said the chief, using the term of regard which is employed in the belgian congo, "this woman m'lama is a true witch and has great gifts, for she raises the dead by the touch of her hand. this i have seen. also it is said that when u'gomi, the woodcutter, made a fault, cutting his foot in two, this woman healed him marvellously." "i will see this m'lama," said ahmet importantly. he found her in her hut tossing four bones idly. these were the shanks of goats, and each time they fell differently. "o ahmet," she said, when he entered, "you have a wife who is sick, also a first-born boy who does not speak though he is more than six seasons old." ahmet squatted down by her side. "woman," said he, "tell me something that is not the talk of river and i will believe your magic." "to-morrow your master, the lord sandi, will send you a book which will give you happiness," she said. "every day my lord sends me a book," retorted the sceptical ahmet, "and each brings me happiness. also it is common talk that at this time there come messengers carrying bags of silver and salt to pay men according to their services." undismayed she tried her last shot. "you have a crooked finger which none can straighten--behold!" she took his hand in hers and pressed the injured phlange. a sharp pain shot up his arm and he winced, pulling back his hand--but the year-old dislocation which had defied the effort of the coast doctor was straightened out, and though the movement was exquisitely painful he could bend it. "i see you are a true witch," he said, greatly impressed, for a native has a horror of deformity of any kind, and he sent back word of the phenomenon to sanders. sanders at the same time was in receipt of other news which alternately pleased him and filled him with panic. the mail had come in by fast launch and had brought captain hamilton of the houssas a very bulky letter written in a feminine hand. he had broken the glad news to commissioner sanders, but that gentleman was not certain in his mind whether the startling intelligence conveyed by the letter was good or bad. "i'm sure the country will suit her," he said, "this part of the country at any rate--but what will bones say?" "bones!" repeated captain hamilton scornfully. "what the dickens does it matter what bones says?" nevertheless, he went to the sea-end of the verandah, and his roar rivalled the thunder of the surf. "bones!" there was no answer and for an excellent reason. sanders came out of the bungalow, his helmet on the back of his head, a cheroot tilted dizzily. "where is he?" he asked. hamilton turned. "i asked him to--at least i didn't ask him, he volunteered--to peg out a trench line." "expect an invasion?" asked sanders. hamilton grinned. "bones does," he said. "he's full of the idea, and offered to give me tips on the way a trench should be dug--he's feeling rotten about things ... you know what i mean. his regiment was at mons." sanders nodded. "i understand," he said quietly. "and you ... you're a jolly good soldier, hamilton--how do you feel about it all?" hamilton shrugged his shoulders. "they would have taken me for the cameroons, but somebody had to stay," he said quietly. "after all, it is one's business to ... to do one's job in the station of life to which it has pleased god to call him. this is my work ... here." sanders laid his hand on the other's shoulder. "that's the game as it should be played," he said, and his blue eyes were as soft and as tender as a woman's. "there is no war here--we are the keepers of the king's peace, hamilton." "it's rotten...." "i know--i feel that way myself. we're out of it--the glory of it--the chance of it--the tragedy of it. and there are others. think of the men in india eating their hearts out ... praying for the order that will carry them from the comfort of their lives to the misery and the death--and the splendour, i grant you--of war." he sighed and looked wistfully to the blue sea. hamilton beckoned a houssa corporal who was crossing the garden of the residency. "ho, mustaf," he said, in his queer coast arabic, "where shall i look for my lord tibbetti?" the corporal turned and pointed to the woods which begin at the back of the residency and carry without a break for three hundred miles. "lord, he went there carrying many strange things--also there went with him ali abid, his servant." hamilton reached through an open window of the bungalow and fished out his helmet with his walking-stick. "we'll find bones," he said grimly; "he's been gone three hours and he's had time to re-plan verdun." it took some time to discover the working party, but when it was found the trouble was well repaid. bones was stretched on a canvas chair under the shade of a big isisi palm. his helmet was tipped forward so that the brim rested on the bridge of his nose, his thin red arms were folded on his breast, and their gentle rise and fall testified to his shame. two pegs had been driven in, and between them a string sagged half-heartedly. curled up under a near-by bush was, presumably, ali abid--presumably, because all that was visible was a very broad stretch of brown satin skin which showed between the waistline of a pair of white cotton trousers and a duck jacket. they looked down at the unconscious bones for a long time in silence. "what will he say when i kick him?" asked hamilton. "you can have the first guess." sanders frowned thoughtfully. "he'll say that he was thinking out a new system of communicating trenches," he said. "he's been boring me to tears over saps and things." hamilton shook his head. "wrong, sir," he said; "that isn't the lie he'll tell. he will say that i kept him up so late last night working at the men's pay-sheets that he couldn't keep awake." bones slept on. "he may say that it was coffee after tiffin," suggested sanders after a while; "he said the other day that coffee always made him sleep." "'swoon' was the word he used, sir," corrected hamilton. "i don't think he'll offer that suggestion now--the only other excuse i can think of is that he was repeating the bomongo irregular verbs. bones!" he stooped and broke off a long grass and inserted it in the right ear of lieutenant tibbetts, twiddling the end delicately. bones made a feeble clutch at his ear, but did not open his eyes. "bones!" said hamilton, and kicked him less gently. "get up, you lazy devil--there's an invasion." bones leapt to his feet and staggered a little; blinked fiercely at his superior and saluted. "enemy on the left flank, sir," he reported stiffly. "shall we have dinner or take a taxi?" "wake up, napoleon," begged hamilton, "you're at waterloo." bones blinked more slowly. "i'm afraid i've been unconscious, dear old officer," he confessed. "the fact is----" "listen to this, everybody," said hamilton admiringly. "the fact is, sir," said bones, with dignity, "i fell asleep--that beastly coffee i had after lunch, added to the fatigue of sittin' up half the night with those jolly old accounts of yours, got the better of me. i was sittin' down workin' out one of the dinkiest little ideas in trenches--a sort of communicatin' trench where you needn't get wet in the rainiest weather--when i--well, i just swooned off." hamilton looked disappointed. "weren't you doing anything with the bomongo verbs?" he demanded. a light came to bones's eyes. "by jove, sir!" he said heartily, "that was it, of course.... the last thing i remember was...." "kick that man of yours and come back to the bungalow," hamilton interrupted, "there's a job for you, my boy." he walked across and stirred the second sleeper with the toe of his boot. ali abid wriggled round and sat up. he was square of face, with a large mouth and two very big brown eyes. he was enormously fat, but it was not fat of the flabby type. though he called himself ali, it was, as bones admitted, "sheer swank" to do so, for this man had "coast" written all over him. he got up slowly and saluted first his master, then sanders, and lastly hamilton. bones had found him at cape coast castle on the occasion of a joy-ride which the young officer had taken on a british man-of-war. ali abid had been the heaven-sent servant, and though sanders had a horror of natives who spoke english, the english of ali abid was his very own. he had been for five years the servant of professor garrileigh, the eminent bacteriologist, the account of whose researches in the field of tropical medicines fill eight volumes of closely-printed matter, every page of which contains words which are not to be found in most lexicons. they walked back to the residency, ali abid in the rear. "i want you to go up to the isongo, bones," said sanders; "there may be some trouble there--a woman is working miracles." "he might get a new head," murmured hamilton, but bones pretended not to hear. "use your tact and get back before the 17th for the party." "the----?" asked bones. he had an irritating trick of employing extravagant gestures of a fairly commonplace kind. thus, if he desired to hear a statement repeated--though he had heard it well enough the first time--he would bend his head with a puzzled wrinkle of forehead, put his hand to his ear and wait anxiously, even painfully, for the repetition. "you heard what the commissioner said," growled hamilton. "party--p-a-r-t-y." "my birthday is not until april, your excellency," said bones. "i'd guess the date--but what's the use?" interposed hamilton. "it isn't a birthday party, bones," said sanders. "we are giving a house-warming for miss hamilton." bones gasped, and turned an incredulous eye upon his chief. "you haven't a sister, surely, dear old officer?" he asked. "why the dickens shouldn't i have a sister?" demanded his chief. bones shrugged his shoulders. "a matter of deduction, sir," he said quietly. "absence of all evidence of a soothin' and lovin' influence in your lonely an' unsympathetic upbringin'; hardness of heart an' a disposition to nag, combined with a rough and unpromisin' exterior--a sister, good lord!" "anyway, she's coming, bones," said hamilton; "and she's looking forward to seeing you--i've written an awful lot about you." bones smirked. "of course," he said, "you've overdone it a bit--women hate to be disillusioned. what you ought to have done, sir, is to describe me as a sort of ass--genial and all that sort of thing, but a commonplace sort of ass." hamilton nodded. "that's exactly what i've done, bones," he said. "i told her how bosambo did you in the eye for twenty pounds, and how you fell into the water looking for buried treasure, and how the isisi tried to sell you a flying crocodile and would have sold it too, if it hadn't been for my timely arrival. i told her----" "i think you've said enough, sir." bones was very red and very haughty. "far be it from me to resent your attitude or contradict your calumnies. miss hamilton will see very little of me. an inflexible sense of duty will keep me away from the frivolous circle of society, sir. alert an' sleepless----" "trenches," said hamilton brutally. bones winced, regarded his superior for a moment with pain, saluted, and turning on his heel, stalked away, followed by ali abid no less pained. he left at dawn the next morning, and both sanders and hamilton came down to the concrete quay to see the _zaire_ start on her journey. sanders gave his final instructions-"if the woman is upsetting the people, arrest her; if she has too big a hold on them, arrest her; but if she is just amusing them, come back." "and don't forget the 17th," said hamilton. "i may arrive a little late for that," said bones gravely. "i don't wish to be a skeleton at your jolly old festive board, dear old sportsman--you will excuse my absence to miss hamilton. i shall probably have a headache and all that sort of thing." he waved a sad farewell as the _zaire_ passed round the bend of the river, and looked, as he desired to look, a melancholy figure with his huge pipe in his mouth and his hands thrust dejectedly into his trousers pockets. once out of sight he became his own jovial self. "lieutenant ali," he said, "get out my log and put it in old sanders' cabin, make me a cup of tea and keep her jolly old head east, east by north." "ay, ay, sir," said ali in excellent english. the "log" which bones kept was one of the secret documents which never come under the eye of the superior authorities. there were such entries as- "wind n.n.w. sea calm. hostile craft sighted on port bow, at 10.31 a.m. general quarters sounded 10.32. interrogated captain of the hostile craft and warned him not to fish in fair-way. sighted cape m'gooboori 12.17, stopped for lunch and wood." what though cape m'gooboori was the village of that name and the "calm sea" was no more than the placid bosom of the great river? what though bones's "hostile craft" was a dilapidated canoe, manned by one aged and bewildered man of the isisi engaged in spearing fish? bones saw all things through the rosy spectacles of adventurous youth denied its proper share of experience. at sunset the _zaire_ came gingerly through the shoals that run out from the isongo beach, and bones went ashore to conduct his investigations. it chanced that the evening had been chosen by m'lama, the witch, for certain wonderful manifestations, and the village was almost deserted. in a wood and in a place of green trees m'lama sat tossing her sheep shanks, and a dense throng of solemn men and women squatted or sat or tiptoed about her--leaving her a respectable space for her operations. a bright fire crackled and glowed at her side, and into this, from time to time, she thrust little sticks of plaited straw and drew them forth blazing and spluttering until with a quick breath she extinguished the flame and examined the grey ash. "listen, all people," she said, "and be silent, lest my great ju-ju strike you dead. what man gave me this?" "it was i, m'lama," said an eager woman, her face wrinkled with apprehension as she held up her brown palm. the witch peered forward at the speaker. "o f'sela!" she chanted, "there is a man-child for thee who shall be greater than chiefs; also you will suffer from a sickness which shall make you mad." "o ko!" half dismayed by the promise of her own fate; half exalted by the career the witch had sketched for her unborn son, the woman stared incredulously, fearfully at the swaying figure by the fire. again a plaited stick went into the fire, was withdrawn and blown out, and the woman again prophesied. and sometimes it was of honours and riches she spoke, and sometimes--and more often--of death and disaster. into this shuddering group strode bones, very finely clad in white raiment yet limp withal, for the night was close and the way had been long and rough. the sitters scrambled to their feet, their knuckles at their teeth, for this was a moment of great embarrassment. "oh, m'lama," said bones agreeably, and spoke in the soft dialect of the isisi by-the-river, "prophesy for me!" she looked up sullenly, divining trouble for herself. "lord," she said, with a certain smooth venom, "there is a great sickness for you--and behold you will go far away and die, and none shall miss you." bones went very red, and shook an indignant forefinger at the offending prophetess. "you're a wicked old storyteller!" he stammered. "you're depressin' the people--you naughty girl! i hate you--i simply loathe you!" as he spoke in english she was not impressed. "goin' about the country puttin' people off their grub, by jove!" he stormed; "tellin' stories ... oh, dash it, i shall have to be awfully severe with you!" severe he was, for he arrested her, to the relief of her audience, who waited long enough to discover whether or not her ju-ju would strike him dead, and being obviously disappointed by her failure to provide this spectacle, melted away. close to the gangway of the _zaire_ she persuaded one of her houssa guard to release his hold. she persuaded him by the simple expedient of burying her sharp white teeth in the fleshy part of his arm--and bolted. they captured her half mad with panic and fear of her unknown fate, and brought her to the boat. bones, fussing about the struggling group, dancing with excitement, was honourably wounded by the chance contact of his nose with a wild and whirling fist. "put her in the store cabin!" he commanded breathlessly. "oh, what a wicked woman!" in the morning as the boat got under way ali came to him with a distressing story. "your excellency will be pained to hear," he said, "that the female prisoner has eradicated her costume." "eradicated...?" repeated the puzzled bones, gently touching the patch of sticking-plaster on his nose. "in the night," explained this former slave of science, "the subject has developed symptoms of mania, and has entirely dispensed with her clothes--to wit, by destruction." "she's torn up her clothes?" gasped bones, his hair rising and ali nodded. now, the dress of a native woman varies according to the degree in which she falls under missionary influence. isongo was well within the sphere of the river mission, and so m'lama's costume consisted of a tight-fitting piece of print which wound round and round the body in the manner of a kilt, covering the figure from armpit to feet. bones went to the open window of the prison cabin, and steadfastly averting his gaze, called-"m'lama!" no reply came, and he called again. "m'lama," he said gently, in the river dialect, "what shall sandi say to this evil that you do?" there was no reply, only a snuffling sound of woe. "oh, ai!" sobbed the voice. "m'lama, presently we shall come to the mission house where the god-men are, and i will bring you clothing--these you will put on you," said bones, still staring blankly over the side of the ship at the waters which foamed past her low hull; "for if my lord sandi see you as i see you--i mean as i wouldn't for the world see you, you improper person," he corrected himself hastily in english--"if my lord sandi saw you, he would feel great shame. also," he added, as a horrible thought made him go cold all over, "also the lady who comes to my lord militini--oh, lor!" these last two words were in english. fortunately there was a jesuit settlement near by, and here bones stopped and interviewed the stout and genial priest in charge. "it's curious how they all do it," reflected the priest, as he led the way to his storehouse. "i've known 'em to tear up their clothes in an east end police cell--white folk, the same as you and i." he rummaged in a big box and produced certain garments. "my last consignment from a well-meaning london congregation," he smiled, and flung out a heap of dresses, hats, stockings and shoes. "if they'd sent a roll or two of print i might have used them--but strong religious convictions do not entirely harmonize with a last year's paris model." bones, flushed and unhappy, grabbed an armful of clothing, and showering the chuckling priest with an incoherent medley of apology and thanks, hurried back to the _zaire_. "behold, m'lama," he said, as he thrust his loot through the window of the little deck-house, "there are many grand things such as great ladies wear--now you shall appear before sandi beautiful to see." he logged the happening in characteristic language, and was in the midst of this literary exercise when the tiny steamer charged a sandbank, and before her engines could slow or reverse she had slid to the top and rested in two feet of water. a rueful bones surveyed the situation and returned to his cabin to conclude his diary with- "12.19 struck a reef off b'lidi bay. fear vessel total wreck. boats all ready for lowering." as a matter of fact there were neither boats to lower nor need to lower them, because the crew were already standing in the river (up to their hips) and were endeavouring to push the _zaire_ to deep water. in this they were unsuccessful, and it was not for thirty-six hours until the river, swollen by heavy rains in the ochori region, lifted the _zaire_ clear of the obstruction, that bones might record the story of his salvage. he had released a reformed m'lama to the greater freedom of the deck, and save for a shrill passage at arms between that lady and the corporal she had bitten, there was no sign of a return to her evil ways. she wore a white pique skirt and a white blouse, and on her head she balanced deftly, without the aid of pins, a yellow straw hat with long trailing ribbons of heliotrope. alternately they trailed behind and before. "a horrible sight," said bones, shuddering at his first glimpse of her. the rest of the journey was uneventful until the _zaire_ had reached the northernmost limits of the residency reserve. sanders had partly cleared and wholly drained four square miles of the little peninsula on which the residency stood, and by barbed wire and deep cutting had isolated the government estate from the wild forest land to the north. here, the river shoals in the centre, cutting a passage to the sea through two almost unfathomable channels close to the eastern and western banks. bones had locked away his journal and was standing on the bridge rehearsing the narrative which was to impress his superiors with a sense of his resourcefulness--and incidentally present himself in the most favourable light to the new factor which was coming into his daily life. he had thought of hamilton's sister at odd intervals and now.... the _zaire_ was hugging the western bank so closely that a bold and agile person might have stepped ashore. m'lama, the witch, was both bold and agile. he turned with open mouth to see something white and feminine leap the space between deck and shore, two heliotrope ribbons streaming wildly in such breeze as there was. "hi! don't do that ... naughty, naughty!" yelled the agonized bones, but she had disappeared into the undergrowth before the big paddle-wheel of the _zaire_ began to thresh madly astern. never was the resourcefulness of bones more strikingly exemplified. an ordinary man would have leapt overboard in pursuit, but bones was no ordinary man. he remembered in that moment of crisis, the distressing propensity of his prisoner to the "eradication of garments." with one stride he was in his cabin and had snatched a counterpane from his bed, in two bounds he was over the rail on the bank and running swiftly in the direction the fugitive had taken. for a little time he did not see her, then he glimpsed the white of a pique dress, and with a yell of admonition started in pursuit. she stood hesitating a moment, then fled, but he was on her before she had gone a dozen yards; the counterpane was flung over her head, and though she kicked and struggled and indulged in muffled squeaks, he lifted her up in his arms and staggered back to the boat. they ran out a gangway plank and across this he passed with his burden, declining all offers of assistance. "close the window," he gasped; "open the door--now, you naughty old lady!" he bundled her in, counterpane enmeshed and reduced to helpless silence, slammed the door and leant panting against the cabin, mopping his brow. "phew!" said bones, and repeated the inelegant remark many times. all this happened almost within sight of the quay on which sanders and hamilton were waiting. it was a very important young man who saluted them. "all correct, sir," said bones, stiff as a ramrod; "no casualties--except as per my nose which will be noted in the margin of my report--one female prisoner secured after heroic chase, which, i trust, sir, you will duly report to my jolly old superiors----" "don't gas so much, bones," said hamilton. "come along and meet my sister--hullo, what the devil's that?" they turned with one accord to the forest path. two native policemen were coming towards them, and between them a bedraggled m'lama, her skirt all awry, her fine hat at a rakish angle, stepped defiantly. "heavens!" said bones, "she's got away again.... that's my prisoner, dear old officer!" hamilton frowned. "i hope she hasn't frightened pat ... she was walking in the reservation." bones did not faint, his knees went from under him, but he recovered by clutching the arm of his faithful ali. "dear old friend," he murmured brokenly, "accidents ... error of judgment ... the greatest tragedy of my life...." "what's the matter with you?" demanded sanders in alarm, for the face of bones was ghastly. lieutenant tibbetts made no reply, but walked with unsteady steps to the lock-up, fumbled with the key and opened the door. there stepped forth a dishevelled and wrathful girl (she was a little scared, too, i suspect), the most radiant and lovely figure that had ever dawned upon the horizon of bones. she looked from her staggered brother to sanders, from sanders to her miserable custodian. "what on earth----" began hamilton. then her lips twitched and she fell into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "if," said bones huskily, "if in an excess of zeal i mistook... in the gloamin', madame ... white dress...." he spread out his arms in a gesture of extravagant despair. "i can do no more than a gentleman.... i have a loaded revolver in my cabin ... farewell!" he bowed deeply to the girl, saluted his dumbfounded chief, tripped up over a bucket and would have fallen but for hamilton's hand. "you're an ass," said hamilton, struggling to preserve his sense of annoyance. "pat--this is lieutenant tibbetts, of whom i have often written." the girl looked at bones, her eyes moist with laughter. "i guessed it from the first," she said, and bones writhed. chapter ii bones changes his religion captain hamilton of the king's houssas had two responsibilities in life, a sister and a subaltern. the sister's name was patricia agatha, the subaltern had been born tibbetts, christened augustus, and named by hamilton in his arbitrary way, "bones." whilst sister and subaltern were separated from one another by some three thousand miles of ocean--as far, in fact, as the coast is from bradlesham thorpe in the county of hampshire--captain hamilton bore his responsibilities without displaying a sense of the burden. when patricia hamilton decided on paying a visit to her brother she did so with his heartiest approval, for he did not realize that in bringing his two responsibilities face to face he was not only laying the foundation of serious trouble, but was actually engaged in erecting the fabric. pat hamilton had come and had been boisterously welcomed by her brother one white-hot morning, houssas in undress uniform lining the beach and gazing solemnly upon militini's riotous joy. mr. commissioner sanders, c.m.g., had given her a more formal welcome, for he was a little scared of women. bones, as we know, had not been present--which was unfortunate in more ways than one. it made matters no easier for the wretched bones that miss hamilton was an exceedingly lovely lady. men who live for a long time in native lands and see little save beautiful figures displayed without art and with very little adornment, are apt to regard any white woman with regular features as pretty, when the vision comes to them after a long interval spent amidst native people. but it needed neither contrast nor comparison to induce an admiration for captain hamilton's sister. she was of a certain celtic type, above the medium height, with the freedom of carriage and gait which is the peculiar possession of her country-women. her face was a true oval, and her complexion of that kind which tans readily but does not freckle. eyes and mouth were firm and steadfast; she was made for ready laughter, yet she was deep enough, and in eyes and mouth alike you read a tenderness beyond disguise. she had a trinity of admirers: her brother's admiration was natural and critical; sanders admired and feared; lieutenant tibbetts admired and resented. from the moment when bones strode off after the painful discovery, had slammed the door of his hut and had steadfastly declined all manner of food and sustenance, he had voluntarily cut himself off from his kind. he met hamilton on parade the following morning, hollow-eyed (as he hoped) after a sleepless night, and there was nothing in his attitude suggestive of the deepest respect and the profoundest regard for that paragraph of king's regulations which imposes upon the junior officer a becoming attitude of humility in the presence of his superior officer. "how is your head, bones?" asked hamilton, after the parade had been dismissed. "thank you, sir," said bones bitterly--though why he should be bitter at the kindly inquiry only he knew--"thank you, sir, it is about the same. my temperature is--or was--up to one hundred and four, and i have been delirious. i wouldn't like to say, dear old--sir, that i'm not nearly delirious now." "come up to tiffin," invited hamilton. bones saluted--a sure preliminary to a dramatic oration. "sir," he said firmly, "you've always been a jolly old officer to me before this contretemps wrecked my young life--but i shall never be quite the same man again, sir." "don't be an ass," begged hamilton. "revile me, sir," said bones dismally; "give me a dangerous mission, one of those jolly old adventures where a feller takes his life in one hand, his revolver in the other, but don't ask me----" "my sister wants to see you," said hamilton, cutting short the flow of eloquence. "ha, ha!" laughed bones hollowly, and strode into his hut. "and what i'm going to do with him, heaven knows," groaned hamilton at tiffin. "the fact is, pat, your arrival on the scene has thoroughly demoralized him." the girl folded her serviette and walked to the window, and stood looking out over the yellow stretch of the deserted parade-ground. "i'm going to call on bones," she said suddenly. "poor bones!" murmured sanders. "that's very rude!" she took down her solar helmet from the peg behind the door and adjusted it carefully. then she stepped through the open door, whistling cheerfully. "i hope you don't mind, sir," apologized hamilton, "but we've never succeeded in stopping her habit of whistling." sanders laughed. "it would be strange if she didn't whistle," he said cryptically. bones was lying on his back, his hands behind his head. a half-emptied tin of biscuits, no less than the remnants of a box of chocolates, indicated that anchorite as he was determined to be, his austerity did not run in the direction of starvation. his mind was greatly occupied by a cinematograph procession of melancholy pictures. perhaps he would go away, far, far, into the interior. even into the territory of the great king where a man's life is worth about five cents net. and as day by day passed and no news came of him--as how could it when his habitation was marked by a cairn of stones?--she would grow anxious and unhappy. and presently messengers would come bringing her a few poor trinkets he had bequeathed to her--a wrist-watch, a broken sword, a silver cigarette-case dented with the arrow that slew him--and she would weep silently in the loneliness of her room. and perhaps he would find strength to send a few scrawled words asking for her pardon, and the tears would well up in her beautiful grey eyes--as they were already welling in bones's eyes at the picture he drew--and she would know--all. "phweet!" or else, maybe he would be stricken down with fever, and she would want to come and nurse him, but he would refuse. "tell her," he would say weakly, but oh, so bravely, "tell her ... i ask only ... her pardon." "phweet!" bones heard the second whistle. it came from the open window immediately above his head. a song bird was a rare visitor to these parts, but he was too lazy and too absorbed to look up. perhaps (he resumed) she would never see him again, never know the deep sense of injustice.... "phwee--et!" it was clearer and more emphatic, and he half turned his head to look---he was on his feet in a second, his hand raised to his damp forehead, for leaning on the window sill, her lips pursed for yet another whistle, was the lady of his thoughts. she met his eyes sternly. "come outside--misery!" she said, and bones gasped and obeyed. "what do you mean," she demanded, "by sulking in your wretched little hut when you ought to be crawling about on your hands and knees begging my pardon?" bones said nothing. "bones," said this outrageous girl, shaking her head reprovingly, "you want a jolly good slapping!" bones extended his bony wrist. "slap!" he said defiantly. he had hardly issued the challenge when a very firm young palm, driven by an arm toughened by a long acquaintance with the royal and ancient game, came "smack!" and bones winced. "play the game, dear old miss hamilton," he said, rubbing his wrist. "play the game yourself, dear old bones," she mimicked him. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself----" "let bygones be bygones, jolly old miss hamilton," begged bones magnanimously. "and now that i see you're a sport, put it there, if it weighs a ton." and he held out his nobbly hand and caught the girl's in a grip that made her grimace. five minutes later he was walking her round the married quarters of his houssas, telling her the story of his earliest love affair. she was an excellent listener, and seldom interrupted him save to ask if there was any insanity in his family, or whether the girl was short-sighted; in fact, as bones afterwards said, it might have been hamilton himself. "what on earth are they finding to talk about?" wondered sanders, watching the confidences from the depths of a big cane chair on the verandah. "bones," replied hamilton lazily, "is telling her the story of his life and how he saved the territories from rebellion. he's also begging her not to breathe a word of this to me for fear of hurting my feelings." at that precise moment bones was winding up a most immodest recital of his accomplishments with a less immodest footnote. "of course, dear old miss hamilton," he was saying, lowering his voice, "i shouldn't like a word of this to come to your jolly old brother's ears. he's an awfully good sort, but naturally in competition with an agile mind like mine, understanding the native as i do, he hasn't an earthly----" "why don't you write the story of your adventures?" she asked innocently. "it would sell like hot cakes." bones choked with gratification. "precisely my idea--oh, what a mind you've got! what a pity it doesn't run in the family! i'll tell you a precious secret--not a word to anybody--honest?" "honest," she affirmed. bones looked round. "it's practically ready for the publisher," he whispered, and stepped back to observe the effect of his words. she shook her head in admiration, her eyes were dancing with delight, and bones realized that here at last he had met a kindred soul. "it must be awfully interesting to write books," she sighed. "i've tried--but i can never invent anything." "of course, in my case----" corrected bones. "i suppose you just sit down with a pen in your hand and imagine all sorts of things," she mused, directing her feet to the residency. "this is the story of my life," explained bones earnestly. "not fiction ... but all sorts of adventures that actually happened." "to whom?" she asked. "to me," claimed bones, louder than was necessary. "oh!" she said. "don't start 'oh-ing,'" said bones in a huff. "if you and i are going to be good friends, dear old miss hamilton, don't say 'oh!'" "don't be a bully, bones." she turned on him so fiercely that he shrank back. "play the game," he said feebly; "play the game, dear old sister!" she led him captive to the stoep and deposited him in the easiest chair she could find. from that day he ceased to be anything but a slave, except on one point. the question of missions came up at tiffin, and miss hamilton revealed the fact that she favoured the high church and held definite views on the clergy. bones confessed that he was a wesleyan. "do you mean to tell me that you're a nonconformist?" she asked incredulously. "that's my dinky little religion, dear old miss hamilton," said bones. "i'd have gone into the church only i hadn't enough--enough----" "brains?" suggested hamilton. "call is the word," said bones. "i wasn't called--or if i was i was out--haw-haw! that's a rippin' little bit of persiflage, miss hamilton?" "be serious, bones," said the girl; "you mustn't joke about things." she put him through a cross-examination to discover the extent of his convictions. in self-defence bones, with only the haziest idea of the doctrine he defended, summarily dismissed certain of miss hamilton's most precious beliefs. "but, bones," she persisted, "if i asked you to change----" bones shook his head. "dear old friend," he said solemnly, "there are two things i'll never do--alter the faith of my distant but happy youth, or listen to one disparagin' word about the jolliest old sister that ever----" "that will do, bones," she said, with dignity. "i can see that you don't like me as i thought you did--what do you think, mr. sanders?" sanders smiled. "i can hardly judge--you see," he added apologetically, "i'm a wesleyan too." "oh!" said patricia, and fled in confusion. bones rose in silence, crossed to his chief and held out his hand. "brother," he said brokenly. "what the devil are you doing?" snarled sanders. "spoken like a true christian, dear old excellency and sir," murmured bones. "we'll bring her back to the fold." he stepped nimbly to the door, and the serviette ring that sanders threw with unerring aim caught his angular shoulder as he vanished. that same night sanders had joyful news to impart. he came into the residency to find bones engaged in mastering the art of embroidery under the girl's tuition. sanders interrupted what promised to be a most artistic execution. "who says a joy-ride to the upper waters of the isisi?" hamilton jumped up. "joy-ride?" he said, puzzled. sanders nodded. "we leave to-morrow for the lesser isisi to settle a religious palaver--bucongo of the lesser isisi is getting a little too enthusiastic a christian, and ahmet has been sending some queer reports. i've been putting off the palaver for weeks, but administration says it has no objection to my making a picnic of duty--so we'll all go." "tri-umph!" said hamilton. "bones, leave your needlework and go overhaul the stores." bones, kneeling on a chair, his elbows on the table, looked up. "as jolly old francis drake said when the spanish armada----" "to the stores, you insubordinate beggar!" commanded hamilton, and bones made a hurried exit. the accommodation of the _zaire_ was limited, but there was the launch, a light-draught boat which was seldom used except for tributary work. "i could put bones in charge of the _wiggle_," he said, "but he'd be pretty sure to smash her up. miss hamilton will have my cabin, and you and i could take the two smaller cabins." bones, to whom it was put, leapt at the suggestion, brushing aside all objections. they were answered before they were framed. as for the girl, she was beside herself with joy. "will there be any fighting?" she asked breathlessly. "shall we be attacked?" sanders shook his head smilingly. "all you have to do," said bones confidently, "is to stick to me. put your faith in old bones. when you see the battle swayin' an' it isn't certain which way it's goin', look for my jolly old banner wavin' above the stricken field." "and be sure it _is_ his banner," interrupted hamilton, "and not his large feet. now the last time we had a fight...." and he proceeded to publish and utter a scandalous libel, bones protesting incoherently the while. the expedition was on the point of starting when hamilton took his junior aside. "bones," he said, not unkindly, "i know you're a whale of a navigator, and all that sort of thing, and my sister, who has an awfully keen sense of humour, would dearly love to see you at the helm of the _wiggle_, but as the commissioner wants to make a holiday, i think it would be best if you left the steering to one of the boys." bones drew himself up stiffly. "dear old officer," he said aggrieved, "i cannot think that you wish to speak disparagingly of my intelligence----" "get that silly idea out of your head," said hamilton. "that is just what i'm trying to do." "i'm under your jolly old orders, sir," bones said with the air of an early christian martyr, "and according to paragraph 156 of king's regulations----" "don't let us go into that," said hamilton. "i'm not giving you any commands, i'm merely making a sensible suggestion. of course, if you want to make an ass of yourself----" "i have never had the slightest inclination that way, cheery old sir," said bones, "and i'm not likely at my time of life to be influenced by my surroundings." he saluted again and made his way to the barracks. bones had a difficulty in packing his stores. in truth they had all been packed before he reached the _wiggle_, and to an unprofessional eye they were packed very well indeed, but bones had them turned out and packed _his_ way. when that was done, and it was obvious to the meanest intelligence that the _wiggle_ was in terrible danger of capsizing before she started, the stores were unshipped and rearranged under the directions of the fuming hamilton. when the third packing was completed, the general effect bore a striking resemblance to the position of the stores as bones had found them when he came to the boat. when everybody was ready to start, bones remembered that he had forgotten his log-book, and there was another wait. "have you got everything now?" asked sanders wearily, leaning over the rail. "everything, sir," said bones, with a salute to his superior, and a smile to the girl. "have you got your hot-water bottle and your hair-curlers?" demanded hamilton offensively. bones favoured him with a dignified stare, made a signal to the engineer, and the _wiggle_ started forward, as was her wont, with a jerk which put upon bones the alternative of making a most undignified sprawl or clutching a very hot smoke-stack. he chose the latter, recovered his balance with an easy grace, punctiliously saluted the tiny flag of the _zaire_ as he whizzed past her, and under the very eyes of hamilton, with all the calmness in the world, took the wheel from the steersman's hand and ran the _wiggle_ ashore. all this he did in the brief space of three minutes. "and," said hamilton, exasperated to a degree, "if you'd only broken your infernal head, the accident would have been worth it." it took half an hour for the _wiggle_ to get afloat again. she had run up the beach, and it was necessary to unload the stores, carry them back to the quay and reload her again. "_now_ are you ready?" said sanders. "ay, ay, sir," said bones, abased but nautical. * * * * * bucongo, the chief of the lesser isisi folk, had a dispute with his brother-in-law touching a certain matter which affected his honour. it affected his life eventually, since his relative was found one morning dead of a spear-thrust. this sanders discovered after the big trial which followed certain events described hereafter. the brother-in-law in his malice had sworn that bucongo held communion with devils. it is a fact that bucongo had, at an early age, been captured by catholic missionaries, and had spent an uncomfortable youth mastering certain mysterious rites and ceremonies. his brother-in-law had been in the blessed service of another missionary who taught that god lived in the river, and that to fully benefit by his ju-ju it was necessary to be immersed in the flowing stream. between the water-god men and the cross-god men there was ever a feud, each speaking disparagingly of the other, though converts to each creed had this in common, that neither understood completely the faith into which they were newly admitted. the advantage lay with the catholic converts because they were given a pewter medal with hearts and sunlike radiations engraved thereon (this medal was admittedly a cure for toothache and pains in the stomach), whilst the protestants had little beyond a mysterious something that they referred to as a'lamo--which means grace. but when taunted by their medal-flaunting rivals and challenged to produce this "grace," they were crestfallen and ashamed, being obliged to admit that a'lamo was an invisible magic which (they stoutly affirmed) was nevertheless an excellent magic, since it preserved one from drowning and cured warts and boils. bucongo, the most vigorous partisan of the cross-god men, and an innovator of ritual, found amusement in watching the baptist missionaries standing knee-deep in the river washing the souls of the converts. he had even been insolent to young ferguson, the earnest leader of the american baptist mission, and to his intense amazement had been suddenly floored with a left-hander delivered by the sometime harvard middle weight. he carried his grievance and a lump on his jaw to mr. commissioner sanders, who had arrived at the junction of the isisi and the n'gomi rivers and was holding his palaver, and sanders had been unsympathetic. "go worship your god in peace," said sanders, "and let all other men worship theirs; and say no evil word to white men for these are very quick to anger. also it is unbecoming that a black man should speak scornfully to his masters." "lord," said bucongo, "in heaven all men are as one, black or white." "in heaven," said sanders, "we will settle that palaver, but here on the river we hold our places by our merits. to-morrow i come to your village to inquire into certain practices of which the god-men know nothing--this palaver is finished." now bucongo was something more than a convert. he was a man of singular intelligence and of surprising originality. he had been a lay missioner of the church, and had made many converts to a curious religion, the ritual of which was only half revealed to the good jesuit fathers when at a great palaver which bucongo summoned to exhibit his converts, the church service was interspersed with the sacrifice of a goat and a weird procession and dance which left the representative of the order speechless. bucongo was called before a conference of the mission and reprimanded. he offered excuses, but there was sufficient evidence to prove that this enthusiastic christian had gone systematically to work, to found what amounted to a religion of his own. the position was a little delicate, and any other order than the jesuits might have hesitated to tackle a reform which meant losing a very large membership. the fate of bucongo's congregation had been decided when, in his anger, he took canoe, and travelling for half a day, came to the principal mission. father carpentier, full-bearded, red of face and brawny of arm, listened in the shade of his hut, pulling thoughtfully at a long pipe. "and so, pentini," concluded bucongo, "even sandi puts shame upon me because i am a cross-god man, and he by all accounts is of the water-god ju-ju." the father eyed this perturbed sheep of his flock thoughtfully. "o bucongo," he said gently, "in the river lands are many beasts. those which fly and which swim; those that run swiftly and that hide in the earth. now who of these is right?" "lord, they are all right but are of different ways," said bucongo. father carpentier nodded. "also in the forest are two ants--one who lives in tree nests, and one who has a home deep in the ground. they are of a kind, and have the same business. yet god put it into the little heads of one to climb trees, and of the other to burrow deeply. both are right and neither are wrong, save when the tree ant meets the ground ant and fights him. then both are wrong." the squatting bucongo rose sullenly. "master," he said, "these mysteries are too much for a poor man. i think i know a better ju-ju, and to him i go." "you have no long journey, chief," said the father sternly, "for they tell me stories of ghost dances in the forest and a certain bucongo who is the leader of these--and of a human sacrifice. also of converts who are branded with a cross of hot iron." the chief looked at his sometime tutor with face twisted and puckered with rage, and turning without a word, walked back to his canoe. the next morning father carpentier sent a messenger to sanders bearing an urgent letter, and sanders read the closely written lines with a troubled frown. he put down the letter and came out on to the deck, to find hamilton fishing over the side of the steamer. hamilton looked round. "anything wrong?" he asked quickly. "bucongo of the lesser isisi is wrong," said sanders. "i have heard of his religious meetings and have been a little worried--there will be a big ju-ju palaver or i'm very much mistaken. where is bones?" "he has taken my sister up the creek--bones says there are any number of egrets' nests there, and i believe he is right." sanders frowned again. "send a canoe to fetch him back," he said. "that is bucongo's territory, and i don't trust the devil." "which one--bones or bucongo?" asked hamilton innocently. but sanders was not feeling humorous. * * * * * at that precise moment bones was sitting before the most fantastic religious assembly that ecclesiastic or layman had ever attended. fate and bones had led the girl through a very pleasant forest glade--they left the light-draught _wiggle_ half a mile down stream owing to the shoals which barred their progress, and had come upon bucongo in an exalted moment. with the assurance that he was doing no more than intrude upon one of those meetings which the missionizing chief of the lesser isisi so frequently held, bones stood on the outer fringe of the circle which sat in silence to watch an unwilling novitiate getting acquainted with bucongo's god. the novice was a girl, and she lay before an altar of stones surmounted by a misshapen _beti_ who glared with his one eye upon the devout gathering. the novice lay rigid, for the excellent reason that she was roped foot and hands to two pegs in the ground. before the altar itself was a fire of wood in which two irons were heating. bones did not take this in for a moment, for he was gazing open-mouthed at bucongo. on his head was an indubitable mitre, but around the mitre was bound a strip of skin from which was suspended a circle of dangling monkey tails. for cope he wore a leopard's robe. his face was streaked red with camwood, and around his eyes he had painted two white circles. he was in the midst of a frenzied address when the two white visitors came upon the scene, and his hand was outstretched to take the red branding-iron when the girl at bones's side, with a little gasp of horror, broke into the circle, and wrenching the rough iron from the attendant's hand, flung it towards the circle of spectators, which widened in consequence. "how dare you--how dare you!" she demanded breathlessly, "you horrible-looking man!" bucongo glared at her but said nothing; then he turned to meet bones. in that second of time bucongo had to make a great decision, and to overcome the habits of a lifetime. training and education to the dominion of the white man half raised his hand to the salute; something that boiled and bubbled madly and set his shallow brain afire, something that was of his ancestry, wild, unreasoning, brutish, urged other action. bones had his revolver half drawn when the knobbly end of the chief's killing-spear struck him between the eyes, and he went down on his knees. thus it came about, that he found himself sitting before bucongo, his feet and hands tied with native grass, with the girl at his side in no better case. she was very frightened, but this she did not show. she had the disadvantage of being unable to understand the light flow of offensive badinage which passed between her captor and bones. "o tibbetti," said bucongo, "you see me as a god--i have finished with all white men." "soon we shall finish with you, bucongo," said bones. "i cannot die, tibbetti," said the other with easy confidence, "that is the wonderful thing." "other men have said that," said bones in the vernacular, "and their widows are wives again and have forgotten their widowhood." "this is a new ju-ju, tibbetti," said bucongo, a strange light in his eyes. "i am the greatest of all cross-god men, and it is revealed to me that many shall follow me. now you and the woman shall be the first of all white people to bear the mark of bucongo the blessed. and in the days to be you shall bare your breasts and say, 'bucongo the wonderful did this with his beautiful hands.'" bones was in a cold sweat and his mouth was dry. he scarcely dare look at the girl by his side. "what does he say?" she asked in a low voice. bones hesitated, and then haltingly he stammered the translation of the threat. she nodded. "o bucongo," said bones, with a sudden inspiration, "though you do evil, i will endure. but this you shall do and serve me. brand me alone upon the chest, and upon the back. for if we be branded separately we are bound to one another, and you see how ugly this woman is with her thin nose and her pale eyes; also she has long hair like the grass which the weaver birds use for their nests." he spoke loudly, eagerly, and it seemed convincingly, for bucongo was in doubt. truly the woman by all standards was very ugly. her face was white and her lips thin. she was a narrow woman too, he thought, like one underfed. "this you shall do for me, bucongo," urged bones; "for gods do not do evil things, and it would be bad to marry me to this ugly woman who has no hips and has an evil tongue." bucongo was undecided. "a god may do no evil," he said; "but i do not know the ways of white men. if it be true, then i will mark you twice, tibbetti, and you shall be my man for ever; and the woman i will not touch." "cheer oh!" said bones. "what are you saying--will he let us go?" asked the girl. "i was sayin' what a jolly row there'll be," lied bones; "and he was sayin' that he couldn't think of hurtin' a charmin' lady like you. shut your eyes, dear old miss hamilton." she shut them quickly, half fainting with terror, for bucongo was coming towards them, a blazing iron in his hand, a smile of simple benevolence upon his not unintelligent face. "this shall come as a blessing to you, tibbetti," he said almost jovially. bones shut his teeth and waited. the hot iron was scorching his silk shirt when a voice hailed the high-priest of the newest of cults. "o bucongo," it said. bucongo turned with a grimace of fear and cringed backward before the levelled colt of mr. commissioner sanders. "tell me now," said sanders in his even tone, "can such a man as you die? think, bucongo." "lord," said bucongo huskily, "i think i can die." "we shall see," said sanders. * * * * * it was not until after dinner that night that the girl had recovered sufficiently to discuss her exciting morning. "i think you were an awful brute," she addressed her unabashed brother. "you were standing in the wood listening to and seeing everything, and never came till the last minute." "it was my fault," interrupted sanders. "i wanted to see how far the gentle bucongo would go." "dooced thoughtless," murmured bones under his breath, but audible. she looked at him long and earnestly then turned again to her brother. "there is one thing i want to know," she said. "what was bones saying when he talked to that horrible man? do you know that bones was scowling at me as though i was ... i hardly know how to express it. was he saying nice things?" hamilton looked up at the awning, and cleared his throat. "play the game, dear old sir and brother-officer," croaked bones. "he said----" began hamilton. "live an' let live," pleaded bones, all of a twitter. "_esprit de corps_ an' discretion, jolly old captain." hamilton looked at his subordinate steadily. "he asked to be branded twice in order that you might not be branded once," he said quietly. the girl stared at bones, and her eyes were full of tears. "oh, bones!" she said, with a little catch in her voice, "you ... you are a sportsman." "carry on," said bones incoherently, and wept a little at the realization of that magnificent moment. chapter iii the maker of storms everybody knows that water drawn from rivers is very bad water, for the rivers are the roads of the dead, and in the middle of those nights when the merest rind of a moon shows, and this slither of light and two watchful stars form a triangle pointing to the earth, the spirits rise from their graves and walk, "singing deadly songs," towards the lower star which is the source of all rivers. if you should be--which god forbid--on one of those lonely island graveyards on such nights you will see strange sights. the broken cooking-pots which rest on the mounds and the rent linen which flutters from little sticks stuck about the graves, grow whole and new again. the pots are red and hot as they come from the fire, and the pitiful cloths take on the sheen of youth and fold themselves about invisible forms. none may see the dead, though it is said that you may see the babies. these the wise men have watched playing at the water's edge, crowing and chuckling in the universal language of their kind, staggering groggily along the shelving beach with outspread arms balancing their uncertain steps. on such nights when m'sa beckons the dead world to the source of all rivers, the middle islands are crowded with babies--the dead babies of a thousand years. their spirits come up from the unfathomed deeps of the great river and call their mortality from graves. "how may the waters of the river be acceptable?" asks the shuddering n'gombi mother. therefore the n'gombi gather their water from the skies in strange cisterns of wicker, lined with the leaf of a certain plant which is impervious, and even carry their drinking supplies with them when they visit the river itself. there was a certain month in the year, which will be remembered by all who attempted the crossing of the kasai forest to the south of the n'gombi country, when pools and rivulets suddenly dried--so suddenly, indeed, that even the crocodiles, who have an instinct for coming drought, were left high and dry, in some cases miles from the nearest water, and when the sun rose in a sky unflecked by cloud and gave place at nights to a sky so brilliant and so menacing in their fierce and fiery nearness that men went mad. toward the end of this month, when an exasperating full moon advertised a continuance of the dry spell by its very whiteness, the chief koosoogolaba-muchini, or, as he was called, muchini, summoned a council of his elder men, and they came with parched throats and fear of death. "all men know," said muchini, "what sorrow has come to us, for there is a more powerful ju-ju in the land than i remember. he has made m'shimba m'shamba afraid so that he has gone away and walks no more in the forest with his terrible lightning. also k'li, the father of pools, has gone into the earth and all his little children, and i think we shall die, every one of us." there was a skinny old man, with a frame like a dried goatskin, who made a snuffling noise when he spoke. "o muchini," he said, "when i was a young man there was a way to bring m'shimba m'shamba which was most wonderful. in those days we took a young maiden and hung her upon a tree----" "those old ways were good," interrupted muchini; "but i tell you, m'bonia, that we can follow no more the old ways since sandi came to the land, for he is a cruel man and hanged my own mother's brother for that fine way of yours. yet we cannot sit and die because of certain magic which the stone breaker is practising." now bula matadi ("the stone breaker") was in those days the mortal enemy of the n'gombi people, who were wont to ascribe all their misfortunes to his machinations. to bula matadi (which was the generic name by which the government of the congo free state was known) was traceable the malign perversity of game, the blight of crops, the depredations of weaver birds. bula matadi encouraged leopards to attack isolated travellers, and would on great occasions change the seasons of the year that the n'gombi's gardens might come to ruin. "it is known from one end of the earth to the other that i am a most cunning man," muchini went on, stroking his muscular arm, a trick of self-satisfied men in their moments of complacence; "and whilst even the old men slept, i, koosoogolaba-muchini, the son of the terrible and crafty g'sombo, the brother of eleni-n'gombi, i went abroad with my wise men and my spies and sought out devils and ghosts in places where even the bravest have never been," he lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, "to the ewa-ewa mongo, the very place of death." the gasp of horror from his audience was very satisfying to this little chief of the inner n'gombi, and here was a moment suitable for his climax. "and behold!" he cried. by his side was something covered with a piece of native cloth. this covering he removed with a flourish and revealed a small yellow box. it was most certainly no native manufacture, for its angles were clamped with neat brass corner-pieces set flush in the polished wood. the squatting councillors watched their lord as with easy familiarity he opened the lid. there were twenty tiny compartments, and in each was a slender glass tube, corked and heavily sealed, whilst about the neck of each tube was a small white label covered with certain devil marks. muchini waited until the sensation he had prepared had had its full effect. "by the great river which runs to the allamdani,"[1] he said slowly and impressively, "were white men who had been sent by bula matadi to catch ghosts. for i saw them, i and my wise men, when the moon was calling all spirits. they were gathered by the river with little nets and little gourds and they caught the waters. also they caught little flies and other foolish things and took them to their tent. then my young men and i waited, and when all were gone away we went to their tents and found his magic box--which is full of devils of great power--ro!" [footnote 1: this was evidently the sanga river.] he leapt to his feet, his eye gleaming. across the starry dome of the sky there had flicked a quick flare of light. there came a sudden uneasy stirring of leaves, a hushed whisper of things as though the forest had been suddenly awakened from sleep. then an icy cold breeze smote his cheek, and staring upward, he saw the western stars disappearing in swathes behind the tumbling clouds. "m'shimba m'shamba--he lives!" he roared, and the crash of thunder in the forest answered him. bosambo, chief of the ochori, was on the furthermost edge of the forest, for he was following the impulse of his simple nature and was hunting in a country where he had no right to be. the storm (which he cursed, having no scruples about river and water, and being wholly sceptical as to ghosts) broke with all its fury over his camp and passed. two nights later, he sat before the rough hut his men had built, discussing the strange ways of the antelope, when he suddenly stopped and listened, lowering his head till it almost touched the ground. clear to his keen ears came the rattle of the distant lokali--the drum that sends messages from village to village and from nation to nation. "o secundi," said bosambo, with a note of seriousness in his voice, "i have not heard that call for many moons--for it is the war call of the n'gombi." "lord, it is no war call," said the old man, shifting his feet for greater comfort, "yet it is a call which may mean war, for it calls spears to a dance, and it is strange, for the n'gombi have no enemies." "all men are the enemies of the n'gombi," bosambo quoted a river saying as old as the sun. he listened again, then rose. "you shall go back and gather me a village of spears, and bring them to the borderland near the road that crosses the river," he said. "on my life," said the other. muchini, chief of the inner n'gombi, a most inflated man and a familiar of magical spirits, gathered his spears to some purpose, for two days later bosambo met him by his border and the chiefs greeted one another between two small armies. "which way do you go, muchini?" asked bosambo. now, between muchini and the chief of the ochori was a grievance dating back to the big war, when bosambo had slain the n'gombi chief of the time with his own hands. "i go to the river to call a palaver of all free men," said muchini; "for i tell you this, bosambo, that i have found a great magic which will make us greater than sandi, and it has been prophesied that i shall be a king over a thousand times a thousand spears. for i have a small box which brings even m'shimba to my call." bosambo, a head and shoulders taller than the other, waved his hand towards the forest path which leads eventually to the ochori city. "here is a fine moment for you, muchini," he said, "and you shall try your great magic on me and upon my young men. for i say that you do not go by this way, neither you nor your warriors, since i am the servant of sandi and of his king, and he has sent me here to keep his peace; go back to your village, for this is the way to death." muchini glared at his enemy. "yet this way i go, bosambo," he said huskily, and looked over his shoulder towards his followers. bosambo swung round on one heel, an arm and a leg outstretched in the attitude of an athlete who is putting the shot. muchini threw up his wicker shield and pulled back his stabbing-spear, but he was a dead man before the weapon was poised. thus ended the war, and the n'gombi folk went home, never so much as striking a blow for the yellow box which bosambo claimed for himself as his own personal loot. at the time, mr. commissioner sanders, c.m.g., was blissfully ignorant of the miraculous happenings which have been recorded. he was wholly preoccupied by the novelty which the presence of patricia hamilton offered. never before had a white woman made her home at the residency, and it changed things a little. she was at times an embarrassment. when fubini, the witch-doctor of the akasava, despatched five maidens to change sandi's wicked heart--sanders had sent fubini to the village of irons for six months for preaching unauthorized magic--they came, in the language of bones, "doocedly undressed," and patricia had beaten a hurried retreat. she was sometimes an anxiety, as i have already shown, but was never a nuisance. she brought to headquarters an aroma of english spring, a clean fragrance that refreshed the heat-jaded commissioner and her brother, but which had no perceptible influence upon bones. that young officer called for her one hot morning, and hamilton, sprawling on a big cane chair drawn to the shadiest and breeziest end of the verandah, observed that bones carried a wooden box, a drawing-board, a pad of paper, two pencils imperfectly concealed behind his large ear, and a water-bottle. "shop!" said hamilton lazily. "forward, mr. bones--what can we do for you this morning?" bones shaded his eyes and peered into the cool corner. "talkin' in your sleep, dear old commander," he said pleasantly, "dreamin' of the dear old days beyond recall." he struck an attitude and lifted his unmusical voice- "when life was gay, heigho! tum tum te tay, heigho! oh, tiddly umpty humpty umty do, when life was gay--dear old officer--heigho!" patricia hamilton stepped out to the verandah in alarm. "oh, please, don't make that hooting noise," she appealed to her brother. "i'm writing----" "don't be afraid," said hamilton, "it was only bones singing. do it again, bones, pat didn't hear you." bones stood erect, his hand to his white helmet. "come aboard, my lady," he said. "i won't keep you a minute, bones," said the girl, and disappeared into the house. "what are you doing this morning?" asked hamilton, gazing with pardonable curiosity at the box and drawing-board. "polishin' up my military studies with miss hamilton's kind assistance--botany and applied science, sir," said bones briskly. "field fortifications, judgin' distance, strategy, bomongo grammar, field cookery an' tropical medicines." "what has poor little making-up-company-accounts done?" asked hamilton, and bones blushed. "dear old officer," he begged, "i'll tackle that little job as soon as i get back. i tried to do 'em this mornin' an was four dollars out--it's the regimental cash account that's wrong. people come in and out helpin' themselves, and i positively can't keep track of the money." "as i'm the only person with the key of the regimental cash-box, i suppose you mean----?" bones raised his hand. "i make no accusations, dear old feller--it's a painful subject. we all have those jolly old moments of temptation. i tackle the accounts to-night, sir. you mustn't forget that i've a temperament. i'm not like you dear old wooden-heads----" "oh, shut up," said the weary hamilton. "so long as you're going to do a bit of study, it's all right." "now, bones," said patricia, appearing on the scene, "have you got the sandwiches?" bones made terrifying and warning grimaces. "have you got the board to lay the cloth and the paper to cover it, and the chocolates and the cold tea?" bones frowned, and jerked his head in an agony of warning. "come on, then," said the unconscious betrayer of lieutenant tibbetts. "good-bye, dear." "why 'good-bye,' dear old hamilton's sister?" asked bones. she looked at him scornfully and led the way. "don't forget the field fortifications," called hamilton after them; "they eat nicely between slices of strategy." the sun was casting long shadows eastward when they returned. they had not far to come, for the place they had chosen for their picnic was well within the residency reservation, but bones had been describing on his way back one of the remarkable powers he possessed, namely, his ability to drag the truth from reluctant and culpable natives. and every time he desired to emphasize the point he would stop, lower all his impedimenta to the ground, cluttering up the landscape with picnic-box, drawing-board, sketching-blocks and the numerous bunches of wild flowers he had culled at her request, and press his argument with much palm-punching. he stopped for the last time on the very edge of the barrack square, put down his cargo and proceeded to demolish the doubt she had unwarily expressed. "that's where you've got an altogether erroneous view of me, dear old sister," he said triumphantly. "i'm known up an' down the river as the one man that you can't deceive. go up and ask the bomongo, drop in on the isisi, speak to the akasava, an' what will they say? they'll say, 'no, ma'am, there's no flies on jolly old bones--not on your life, harriet!'" "then they would be very impertinent," smiled pat. "ask sanders (god bless him!). ask ham. ask----" he was going on enthusiastically. "are you going to camp here, or are you coming in?" she challenged. bones gathered up his belongings, never ceasing to talk. "fellers like me, dear young friend, make the empire--paint the whole bally thing red, white an' blue--'unhonoured an' unsung, until the curtain's rung, the boys that made the empire and the navy.'" "bones, you promised you wouldn't sing," she said reproachfully; "and, besides, you're not in the navy." "that doesn't affect the argument," protested bones, and was rapidly shedding his equipment in preparation for another discourse, when she walked on towards sanders who had come across the square to meet them. bones made a dive at the articles he had dropped, and came prancing (no other word describes his erratic run) up to sanders. "i've just been telling miss hamilton, sir and excellency, that nobody can find things that old bones--you'll remember, sir, the episode of your lost pyjama legs. who found 'em?" "you did," said sanders; "they were sent home in your washing. talking about finding things, read this." he handed a telegraph form to the young man, and bones, peering into the message until his nose almost touched the paper, read- "very urgent. clear the line. administration. "to sanders, commission river territories. message begins. belgian congo government reports from leopoldville, bacteriological expedition carriers raided on edge of your territory by inner n'gombi people, all stores looted including case of 20 culture tubes. stop. as all these cultures are of virulent diseases, inoculate inner n'gombi until intact tubes recovered. message ends." bones read it twice, and his face took on an appearance which indicated something between great pain and intense vacancy. it was intended to convey to the observer the fact that bones was thinking deeply and rapidly, and that he had banished from his mind all the frivolities of life. "i understand, sir--you wish me to go to the dear old congo government and apologize--i shall be ready in ten minutes." "what i really want you to do," said sanders patiently, "is to take the _wiggle_ up stream and get that box." "i quite understand, sir," said bones, nodding his head. "to-day is the 8th, to-morrow is the 9th--the box shall be in your hands on the 15th by half-past seven in the evening, dear old sir." he saluted and turned a baleful glare upon the girl, the import of which she was to learn at first hand. "duty, miss patricia hamilton! forgive poor old bones if he suddenly drops the mask of _dolce far niente_--i go!" he saluted again and went marching stiffly to his quarters, with all the dignity which an empty lunch-box and a dangling water-bottle would allow him. the next morning bones went forth importantly for the ochori city, being entrusted with the task of holding, so to speak, the right flank of the n'gombi country. "you will use your discretion," sanders said at parting, "and, of course, you must keep your eyes open; if you hear the merest hint that the box is in your neighbourhood, get it." "i think, your excellency," said bones, with heavy carelessness, "that i have fulfilled missions quite as delicate as this, and as for observation, why, the gift runs in my family." "and runs so fast that you've never caught up with it," growled hamilton. bones turned haughtily and saluted. it was a salute full of subdued offence. he went joyously to the northward, evolving cunning plans. he stopped at every village to make inquiries and to put the unoffending villagers to considerable trouble--for he insisted upon a house-to-house search--before, somewhat wearied by his own zeal, he came to the ochori. chief bosambo heard of his coming and summoned his councillors. "truly has sandi a hundred ears," he said in dismay, "for it seems that he has heard of the slaying of muchini. now, all men who are true to me will swear to the lord tibbetti that we know nothing of a killing palaver, and that we have not been beyond the trees to the land side of the city. this you will all say because you love me; and if any man says another thing i will beat him until he is sick." bones came and was greeted by the chief--and bosambo was carried to the beach on a litter. "lord," said bosambo weakly, "now the sight of your simple face will make me a well man again. for, lord, i have not left my bed since the coming of the rains, and there is strength neither in my hands and feet." "poor old bird," said bones sympathetically, "you've been sittin' in a draught." "this i tell you, tibbetti," bosambo went on, as yet uncertain of his ruler's attitude, since bones must need, at this critical moment, employ english and idiomatic english, "that since the last moon was young i have lain in my hut never moving, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, being like a dead man--all this my headman will testify." bones's face dropped, for he had hoped to secure information here. bosambo, watching his face through half-closed lids, saw the dismal droop of the other's mouth, and came to the conclusion that whatever might be the cause of the visit, it was not to hold the ochori or their chief to account for known misdeeds. "o bosambo," said bones, in the river dialect, "this is sad news, for i desire that you shall tell me certain things for which sandi would have given you salt and rods." the chief of the ochori sat up in his litter and went so far as to put one foot to the ground. "lord," said he heartily, "the sound of your lovely voice brings me from the grave and gives me strength. ask, o bonesi, for you are my father and my mother; and though i saw and heard nothing, yet in my sickness i had wonderful visions and all things were made visible--that i declare to you, bonesi, before all men." "don't call me 'bonesi,'" said bones fiercely. "you're a jolly cheeky feller, bosambo--you're very, very naughty, indeed!" "master," said bosambo humbly, "though i rule these ochori i am a foreigner in this land; in the tongue of my own people, bonesi means 'he-who-is-noble-in-face-and-a-giver-of-justice.'" "that's better," nodded the gratified bones, and went on speaking in the dialect. "you shall help me in this--it touches the people of the inner n'gombi----" bosambo fell back wearily on to the litter, and rolled his eyes as one in pain. "this is a sorrow for me, bo--tibbetti," he said faintly, "but i am a sick man." "also," continued bones, "of a certain box of wood, full of poisons----" as well as he could bones explained the peculiar properties of germ culture. "oh, ko!" said bosambo, closing his eyes, and was to all appearances beyond human aid. * * * * * "lord," said bosambo, at parting, "you have brought me to life, and every man of every tribe shall know that you are a great healer. to all the far and quiet places of the forest i will send my young men who will cry you aloud as a most wonderful doctor." "not at all," murmured bones modestly, "not at all." "master," said bosambo, this time in english, for he was not to be outdone in the matter of languages, for had he not attended a great mission school in monrovia? "master, you dam' fine feller, you look 'um better feller, you no find um. you be same like moses and judi escariot, big fine feller, by golly--yas." all night long, between the visits which bones had been making from the moored _wiggle_ to the village (feeling the patient's pulse with a profound and professional air and prescribing brandy and milk), bosambo had been busy. "stand you at the door, secundi," he said to his headman, "and let one of your men go to the shore to warn me of my lord tibbetti's coming, for i have work to do. it seems this maker of storms were better with sandi than with me." "tibbetti is a fool, i think," suggested secundi. bosambo, kneeling on a rush mat, busy with a native chisel and a pot of clay paint, looked up. "i have beaten older men than you with a stick until they have wept," he said, "and all for less than you say. for this is the truth, secundi, that a child cannot be a fool, though an old man may be a shame. this is the word of the blessed prophet. as for tibbetti, he has a clean and loving heart." there was a rustle at the door and a whispered voice. the box and the tools were thrust under a skin rug and bosambo again became the interesting invalid. in the morning bosambo had said farewell, and a blushing bones listened with unconcealed pleasure to the extravagant praise of his patient. "and this i tell you, tibbetti," said bosambo, standing thigh-deep in the river by the launch's side, "that knowing you are wise man who gathers wisdom, i have sent to the end of my country for some rare and beautiful thing that you may carry it with you." he signalled to a man on the bank, and his servant brought him a curious object. it was, bones noted, a square box apparently of native make, for it was fantastically carved and painted. there were crude heads and hideous forms which never were on land or sea. the paint was brilliant; red, yellow and green indiscriminately splashed. "this is very ancient and was brought to my country by certain forest people. it is a maker of storms, and is a powerful ju-ju for good and evil." bones, already a collector of native work, was delighted. his delight soothed him for his failure in other respects. he returned to headquarters empty-handed and sat the centre of a chilling group--if we except patricia hamilton--and endeavoured, as so many successful advocates have done, to hide his short-comings behind a screen of rhetoric. he came to the part of his narrative where bosambo was taken ill without creating any notable sensation, save that sanders's grey eyes narrowed a little and he paid greater heed to the rest of the story. "there was poor old bosambo knocked out, sir--ab-so-lutely done for--fortunately i did not lose my nerve. you know what i am, dear old officer, in moments of crisis?" "i know," said hamilton grimly, "something between a welsh revivalist and a dancing dervish." "please go on, bones," begged the girl, not the least interested of the audience. "i dashed straight back to the _wiggle_," said bones breathlessly, "searched for my medicine chest--it wasn't there! not so much as a mustard plaster--what was i to do, dear old miss hamilton?" he appealed dramatically. "don't tell him, pat," begged hamilton, "he's sure to guess it." "what was i to do? i seized a bottle of brandy," said bones with relish, "i dashed back to where bosambo was lyin'. i dashed into the village, into his hut and got a glass----" "well, well!" said sanders impatiently, "what happened after all this dashing?" bones spread out his hands. "bosambo is alive to-day," he said simply, "praisin'--if i may be allowed to boast--the name of bones the medicine man. look here, sir." he dragged towards him along the floor of the hut a package covered with a piece of native sacking. this he whisked away and revealed the hideous handiwork of an artist who had carved and painted as true to nature as a man may who is not quite certain whether the human eye is half-way down the nose or merely an appendage to his ear. "that, sir," said bones impressively, "is one of the most interestin' specimens of native work i have ever seen: a gift! from bosambo to the jolly old doctor man who dragged him, if i might so express it, from the very maws of death." he made his dramatic pause. sanders bent down, took a penknife from his pocket and scraped the paint from a flat oblong space on the top. there for all men to see--save bones who was now engaged in a relation of his further adventure to his one sympathizer--was a brass plate, and when the paint had been scraped away, an inscription- department du mã©dicins, etat congo belge. sanders and hamilton gazed, fascinated and paralysed to silence. "i've always had a feelin' i'd like to be a medicine man." bones prattled on. "you see----" "one moment, bones," interrupted sanders quietly. "did you open this box by any chance?" "no, sir," said bones. "and did you see any of its contents?" "no, sir," said bones confidentially, "that's the most interestin' thing about the box. it contains magic--which, of course, honoured sir and excellency, is all rubbish." sanders took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and after a few trials opened the case and scrutinized the contents, noting the comforting fact that all the tubes were sealed. he heaved a deep sigh of thankfulness. "you didn't by chance discover anything about the missing cultures, bones?" he asked mildly. bones shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and looked disconsolately at his chief. "you think i've been feeble, but i haven't lost hope, sir," he said, with fine resolution. "i've got a feelin' that if i were allowed to go into the forest, disguised, sir, as a sort of half-witted native chap, sir----" "disguised!" said hamilton. "good lord, what do you want a disguise for?" chapter iv bones and the wireless ko-boru, the headman of bingini, called his relations together for a solemn family conference. the lower river folk play an inconsiderable rã´le in the politics of the territories, partly because they are so near to headquarters that there is no opportunity for any of those secret preparations which precede all native intrigues, great or small, and partly because the lower river people are so far removed from the turbulent elements of the upper river that they are not swayed by the cyclonic emotions of the isisi, the cold and deliberate desire for slaughter which is characteristically akasavian, or the electrical decisions of the outer n'gombi. but they had their crises. to bingini came all the notables of the district who claimed kinship with ko-boru, and they sat in a great circle about the headman's hut, alternately eyeing the old headman and their stout relative, his daughter. "all my relations shall know this," began ko-boru, after okmimi, the witch-doctor, had formally burnt away the devils and ghosts that fringe all large assemblies, "that a great shame has come to us, every one, because of yoka-m'furi. for this yoka is to sandi as a brother, and guides his little ship up and down the river, and because of this splendid position i gave him my own daughter by the first of my wives." "s'm-m!" murmured the council in agreement. "also i built him a hut and gave him a garden, where his wife might work, and he has sat at family palavers. now, i tell you that yoka-m'furi is an evil man, for he has left my daughter, and has found another wife in the upper river, and he comes no more to this village, and my daughter weeps all day. "for three seasons he has not been to this village; when the moon comes again, it will be four." he said this with proper significance, and the flat face of the melancholy girl by his side puckered and creased miserably before she opened her large mouth to wail her woe. for the man who deliberately separates himself from his wife for four seasons and does not spend twenty-four hours--"from sunrise to moonset" in her village is automatically divorced and freed from all responsibility. this is the custom of all people from the lands of the great king to the sea. "now, i have had a dream," ko-boru went on, "and in this dream it was told me that i should call you all together, and that i and the chief of my councillors and friends should go to sandi and tell him what is true." "brother and uncle," said bechimi of g'lara, "i will go with you, for once i spoke to sandi and he spoke to me, and because of his cunning memory he will recall bechimi, who picked up his little black stick, when it fell, and gave it to him." five were chosen to accompany ko-boru, and they took canoe and travelled for less than five miles to the residency. sanders was entertaining patricia hamilton with stories of native feuds, when the unexpected deputation squatted in the sun before the verandah. "o ko-boru," hailed sanders, "why do you come?" ko-boru was all for a long and impressive palaver, but recognized a certain absence of encouragement in the commissioner's tone. therefore he came straight to the point. "now, you are our father and our mother, sandi," he said, in conclusion, "and when you speak, all wonders happen. also you have very beautiful friends, militini, who speak a word and set his terrible soldiers moving like leopards towards a kill, and tibbetti, the young one who is innocent and simple. so i say to you, sandi, that if you speak one word to yoka, he will come back to my daughter, his wife." sanders stood by the rail of the stoep and looked down upon the spokesman. "i hear strange things, ko-boru," he said quietly. "they tell me stories of a woman with many lovers and an evil tongue; and once there came to me yoka with a wounded head, for this daughter of yours is very quick in her anger." "lord," said the flustered ko-boru, "such things happen even in love." "all things happen in love," said sanders, with a little smile, "and, if it is to be, yoka will return. also, if it is to be, he will not go back to the woman, and she will be free. this palaver is finished." "lord," pleaded ko-boru, "the woman will do no more angry things. let him come back from sunrise to moonset----" "this palaver is finished," repeated sanders. on their way back to bingini the relatives of ko-boru made a plot. it was the first plot that had been hatched in the shadow of headquarters for twenty years. "would it be indiscreet to ask what your visitors wanted?" asked the girl, as the crestfallen deputation was crossing the square to their canoe. "it was a marriage palaver," replied sanders, with a little grimace, "and i was being requested to restore a husband to a temperamental lady who has a passion for shying cook-pots at her husband when she is annoyed." the girl's laughing eyes were fixed upon his. "poor mr. sanders!" she said, with mock seriousness. "don't be sorry for me," smiled sanders. "i'm rather domestic, really, and i'm interested in this case because the man concerned is my steersman--the best on the river, and a capital all-round man. besides that," he went on seriously, "i regard them all as children of mine. it is right that a man who shirks his individual responsibilities to the race should find a family to 'father.'" "why do you?" she asked, after a little pause. "why do i what?" "shirk your responsibilities," she said. "this is a healthy and a delightful spot: a woman might be very happy here." there was an awkward silence. "i'm afraid i've been awfully impertinent," said patricia, hurriedly rising, "but to a woman there is a note of interrogation behind every bachelor--especially nice bachelors--and the more 'confirmed' he is, the bigger the question mark." sanders rose to her. "one of these days i shall do something rash," he threatened, with that shy laugh of his. "here is your little family coming." bones and hamilton were discussing something heatedly, and justice was on the side of lieutenant tibbetts, if one could judge by the frequency with which he stopped and gesticulated. "it really is too bad," said the annoyed hamilton, as he mounted the steps to the stoep, followed by bones, who, to do him justice, did not adopt the attitude of a delinquent, but was, on the contrary, injured virtue personified. "what is too bad, dear?" asked the girl sympathetically. "a fortnight ago," said hamilton, "i told this silly ass----" "your jolly old brother is referrin' to me, dear lady," explained bones. "who else could i be referring to?" demanded the other truculently. "i told him to have all the company accounts ready by to-morrow. you know, sir, that the paymaster is coming down from administration to check 'em, and will you believe me, sir"--he glared at bones, who immediately closed his eyes resignedly--"would you believe me that, when i went to examine those infernal accounts, they were all at sixes and sevens?" "threes an' nines, dear old officer," murmured bones, waking up, "the matter in dispute being a trifle of thirty-nine dollars, which i've generously offered to make up out of my own pocket." he beamed round as one who expected applause. "and on the top of this," fumed hamilton, "he talks of taking pat for an early morning picnic to the village island!" "accompanied by the jolly old accounts," corrected bones. "do me justice, sir and brother-officer. i offered to take the books with me, an' render a lucid and convincin' account of my stewardship." "don't make me laugh," snarled hamilton, stamping into the bungalow. "isn't he naughty?" said bones admiringly. "now, bones," warned the girl, "i shan't go unless you keep your word with alec." bones drew himself up and saluted. "dear old friend," he said proudly, "put your faith in bones." * * * * * "h.m. launch no. 36 (territories)," as it was officially described on the stores record, had another name, which she earned in her early days through certain eccentricities of construction. though she might not in justice be called the _wiggle_ any longer, yet the _wiggle_ she was from one end of the river to the other, and even native men called her "komfuru," which means "that which does not run straight." it had come to be recognized that the _wiggle_ was the especial charge of lieutenant tibbetts. bones himself was the first to recognize this right. there were moments when he inferred that the _wiggle's_ arrival on the station at the time he was making his own first appearance was something more than a coincidence. she was not, in the strictest sense of the word, a launch, for she possessed a square, open dining saloon and two tiny cabins amidships. her internal works were open to the light of day, and her engineer lived in the engine-room up to his waist and on deck from his waist up, thus demonstrating the possibility of being in two places at once. the _wiggle_, moreover, possessed many attributes which are denied to other small steamers. she had, for example, a maxim gun on her tiny forecastle. she had a siren of unusual power and diabolical tone, she was also fitted with a big motor-horn, both of which appendages were bones's gift to his flagship. the motor-horn may seem superfluous, but when the matter is properly explained, you will understand the necessity for some less drastic method of self-advertisement than the siren. the first time the siren had been fitted bones had taken the _wiggle_ through "the channel." here the river narrows and deepens, and the current runs at anything from five to seven knots an hour. bones was going up stream, and met the bolalo mission steamer coming down. she had dipped her flag to the _wiggle's_ blue ensign, and bones had replied with two terrific blasts on his siren. after that the _wiggle_ went backwards, floating with the current all ways, from broadside on to stern first, for in those two blasts bones had exhausted the whole of his steam reserve. she was also equipped with wireless. there was an "aerial" and an apparatus which bones had imported from england at a cost of twelve pounds, and which was warranted to receive messages from two hundred miles distant. there was also a book of instructions. bones went to his hut with the book and read it. his servant found him in bed the next morning, sleeping like a child, with his hand resting lightly upon the second page. sanders and hamilton both took a hand at fixing the _wiggle's_ wireless. the only thing they were all quite certain about was that there ought to be a wire somewhere. so they stretched the aerial from the funnel to the flagstaff at the stern of the boat, and then addressed themselves to the less simple solution of "making it work." they tried it for a week, and gave it up in despair. "they've had you, bones," said hamilton. "it doesn't 'went.' poor old bones!" "your pity, dear old officer, is offensive," said bones stiffly, "an' i don't mind tellin' you that i've a queer feelin'--i can't explain what it is, except that i'm a dooce of a psychic--that that machine is goin' to be jolly useful." but though bones worked day and night, read the book of instructions from cover to cover, and took the whole apparatus to pieces, examining each part under a strong magnifying glass, he never succeeded either in transmitting or receiving a message, and the machine was repacked and stored in the spare cabin, and was never by any chance referred to, except by hamilton in his most unpleasant moments. bones took an especial delight in the _wiggle_; it was his very own ship, and he gave her his best personal attention. it was bones who ordered from london especially engraved notepaper headed "h. m. s. _komfuru_"--the native name sounded more dignified than _wiggle_, and more important than "launch 36." it was bones who installed the little dynamo which--when it worked--lit the cabins and even supplied power for a miniature searchlight. it was bones who had her painted service grey, and would have added another funnel if hamilton had not detected the attempted aggrandizement. bones claimed that she was dustproof, waterproof, and torpedo-proof, and hamilton had voiced his regret that she was not also fool-proof. at five o'clock the next morning, when the world was all big hot stars and shadows, and there was no sound but the whisper of the running river and the "ha-a-a-a--ha-a-a-a" of breakers, bones came from his hut, crossed the parade-ground, and, making his way by the light of a lantern along the concrete quay--it was the width of an average table--dropped on to the deck and kicked the custodian of the _wiggle_ to wakefulness. bones's satellite was one ali abid, who was variously described as moor, egyptian, tripolitan, and bedouin, but was by all ethnological indications a half-breed kano, who had spent the greater part of his life in the service of a professor of bacteriology. this professor was something of a purist, and the association with ali abid, plus a grounding in the elementary subjects which are taught at st. joseph's mission school, cape coast castle, had given ali a gravity of demeanour and a splendour of vocabulary which many better favoured than he might have envied. "arise," quoth bones, in the cracked bass which he employed whenever he felt called upon to deliver his inaccurate versions of oriental poets- "arise, for morning in the bowl of night has chucked a stone to put the stars to flight. and lo! and lo!... get up, ali; the caravan is moving. oh, make haste!" ("omar will never be dead so long as bones quotes him," hamilton once said; "he simply couldn't afford to be dead and leave it to bones!") ali rose, blinking and shivering, for the early morning was very cold, and he had been sleeping under an old padded dressing-gown which bones had donated. "muster all the hands," said bones, setting his lantern on the deck. "sir," said ali slowly, "the subjects are not at our disposition. your preliminary instructions presupposed that you had made necessary arrangements _re personnel_." bones scratched his head. "dash my whiskers," he said, in his annoyance, "didn't i tell you that i was taking the honourable lady for a trip? didn't i tell you, you jolly old slacker, to have everything ready by daybreak? didn't i issue explicit an' particular instructions about grub?" "sir," said ali, "you didn't." "then," said bones wrathfully, "why the dickens do i think i have?" "sir," said ali, "some subjects, when enjoying refreshing coma, possess delirium, hallucinations, highly imaginative, which dissipate when the subject recovers consciousness, but retain in brain cavity illusory reminiscences." bones thrust his face into the other's. "do you mean to tell me i dreamt it?" he hissed. "sir," said ali, "self-preservation compels complete acquiescence in your diagnosis." "you're childish," said bones. he gave a few vague instructions in the best bones manner, and stole up to the dark residency. he had solemnly promised sanders that he would rouse the girl without waking up the rest of the house. they were to go up stream to the village island, where the ironworkers of the akasava had many curious implements to show her. breakfast was to be taken on the boat, and they were to return for tiffin. overnight she had shown bones the window of her room, and hamilton had offered to make a chalk mark on the sash, so there could be no mistaking the situation of the room. "if you wake me before sunrise, i shall do something i shall be sorry for," he warned bones. "if you return without straightening the accounts, i shall do something which _you_ will be sorry for." bones remembered this as he crept stealthily along the wooden verandah. to make doubly sure, he took off his boots and dropped them with a crash. "sh!" said bones loudly. "sh, bones! not so much noise, you silly old ass!" he crept softly along the wooden wall and reconnoitred. the middle window was hamilton's room, the left was sanders's, the right was patricia's. he went carefully to the right window and knocked. there was no answer. he knocked again. still no reply. he knocked loudly. "is that you, bones?" growled sanders's voice. bones gasped. "awfully sorry, sir," he whispered agitatedly--"my mistake entirely." he tiptoed to the left window and rapped smartly. then he whistled, then he rapped again. he heard a bed creak, and turned his head modestly away. "it's bones, dear old sister," he said, in his loudest whisper. "arise, for mornin' in the bowl of light has----" hamilton's voice raged at him. "i knew it was you, you blithering----" "dear old officer," began bones, "awfully sorry! go to sleep again. night-night!" "go to the devil!" said a muffled voice. bones, however, went to the middle window; here he could make no mistake. he knocked authoritatively. "hurry up, ma'am," he said; "time is on the wing----" the sash was flung up, and again bones confronted the furious hamilton. "sir," said the exasperated bones, "how the dooce did you get here?" "don't you know this room has two windows? i told you last night, you goop! pat sleeps at the other end of the building. i told you that, too, but you've got a brain like wool!" "i am obliged to you, sir," said bones, on his dignity, "for the information. i will not detain you." hamilton groped on his dressing-table for a hair-brush. "go back to bed, sir," said bones, "an' don't forget to say your prayers." he was searching for the window in the other wing of the residency, when the girl, who had been up and dressed for a quarter of an hour, came softly behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. "wow!" screeched bones. "oh, lord, dear old sister, you gave me the dickens of a fright! well, let's get along. thank heavens, we haven't disturbed anybody." he was followed to the boat with the imprecations of two pyjamaed figures that stood on the stoep and watched his lank body melt in the darkness. "send us a wireless when you're coming back!" roared hamilton. "cad!" said bones, between his teeth. ali abid had not been idle. he had aroused yoka, the steersman, and boosoobi, the engineer, and these two men had accepted the unexpected call with the curious readiness which natives show on such occasions, and which suggests that they have pre-knowledge of the summons, and are only waiting the word. in one of the small cabins ali had arranged the much-discussed company accounts ready for his lord's attention, and there was every promise of a happy and a profitable day when yoka rang the engines "ahead," and the _wiggle_ jerked her way to midstream. the east had grown pale, there was a murmur from the dark forests on either bank, the timorous chirping or bad-tempered squawk of a bird, a faint fragrance of burning gumwood from the fishing villages established on the river bank, where, in dancing spots of light, the women were tending their fires. there is no intermediate stage on the big river between darkness and broad daylight. the stars go out all at once, and the inky sky which serves then becomes a delicate blue. the shadows melt deeper and deeper into the forest, clearly revealing the outlines of the straight-stemmed trees. there is just this interregnum of pearl greyness, a sort of hush-light, which lasts whilst a man counts twenty, before the silver lances of the sun are flashing through the leaves, and the grey veil which blurs the islands to shapeless blotches in a river of dull silver is burnt to nothingness, and the islands are living things of vivid green set in waters of gold. "the sunrise!" said bones, and waved his hand to the east with the air of one who was responsible for the miracle. the girl sat in a deep wicker chair and breathed in the glory and the freshness of the scene. across the broad river, right ahead of the boat, a flock of parroquets was flying, screeching their raucous chorus. the sun caught their brilliant plumage, and she saw, as it seemed, a rainbow in flight. "isn't that wonderful?" she whispered. bones peered up at the birds, shading his eyes. "just like a jolly old patchwork quilt," he said. "what a pity they can't talk till you teach 'em! they're awful bad eatin', too, though some fellers say they make a good curry----" "oh, look, look!" the _wiggle_ was swerving to the southern bank of the river, and two majestic flamingos standing at the water's edge had arrested the girl's attention. "_they're_ bad eatin', too," said the informative bones. "the flesh is fishy an' too fat; heron are just the same." "haven't you a soul, bones?" she asked severely. "a soul, dear ma'am?" bones asked, in astonishment. "why, that's my specialty!" it was a delightful morning for the girl, for bones had retired to his cabin at her earnest request, and was struggling with the company accounts, and she was left to enjoy the splendour of the day, to watch the iron-red waters piling up against the _wiggle's_ bows, to feel the cool breezes that swept down from the far-away mountains, and all this without being under the necessity of making conversation with bones. that gentleman had a no less profitable morning, for ali abid was a methodical and clerkly man, and unearthed the missing thirty-nine dollars in the compensation record. "thank goodness!" said bones, relieved. "you're a jolly old accountant, ali. i'd never have found it." "sir," said ali, "some subjects, by impetuous application, omit vision of intricate detail. this is due to subjects' lack of concentration." "have it your way," said bones, "but get the statement out for me to copy." he awoke the girl from a profound reverie--which centred about shy and solemn bachelors who adopted whole nations of murderous children as their own--and proceeded to "take charge." this implied the noisy issuing of orders which nobody carried out, the manipulation of a telescope, anxious glances at the heavens, deep and penetrating scrutinies of the water, and a promenade back and forward from one side of the launch to the other. bones called this "pacing the bridge," and invariably carried his telescope tucked under his arm in the process, and, as he had to step over pat's feet every time, and sometimes didn't, she arrested his nautical wanderings. "you make me dizzy," she said. "and isn't that the island?" * * * * * in the early hours of the afternoon they re-embarked, the _capita_ of the village coming to the beach to see them off. they brought back with them a collection of spear-heads, gruesome execution knives, elephant swords, and wonder-working steel figures. "and the lunch was simply lovely, bones," agreed the girl, as the _wiggle_ turned her nose homeward. "really, you can be quite clever sometimes." "dear old miss hamilton," said bones, "you saw me to-day as i really am. the mask was off, and the real bones, kindly, thoughtful, considerate, an'--if i may use the word without your foundin' any great hope upon it--tender. you saw me free from carkin' care, alert----" "go along and finish your accounts, like a good boy," she said. "i'm going to doze." doze she did, for it was a warm, dozy afternoon, and the boat was running swiftly and smoothly with the tide. bones yawned and wrote, copying ali's elaborate and accurate statement, whilst ali himself slept contentedly on the top of the cabin. even the engineer dozed at his post, and only one man was wide awake and watchful--yoka, whose hands turned the wheel mechanically, whose dark eyes never left the river ahead, with its shoals, its sandbanks, and its snags, known and unknown. two miles from headquarters, where the river broadens before it makes its sweep to the sea, there are three islands with narrow passages between. at this season only one such passage--the centre of all--is safe. this is known as "the passage of the tree," because all boats, even the _zaire_, must pass so close beneath the overhanging boughs of a great lime that the boughs brush their very funnels. fortunately, the current is never strong here, for the passage is a shallow one. yoka felt the boat slowing as he reached shoal water, and brought her nearer to the bank of the island. he had reached the great tree, when a noose dropped over him, tightened about his arms, and, before he could do more than lock the wheel, he was jerked from the boat and left swinging between bough and water. "o yoka," chuckled a voice from the bough, "between sunrise and moonset is no long time for a man to be with his wife!" * * * * * bones had finished his account, and was thinking. he thought with his head on his hands, with his eyes shut, and his mouth open, and his thought was accompanied by strange guttural noises. patricia hamilton was also thinking, but much more gracefully. boosoobi sat by his furnace door, nodding. sometimes he looked at the steam gauge, sometimes he kicked open the furnace door and chucked in a few billets of wood, but, in the main, he was listening to the soothing "chook-a-chook, chook-a-chook" of his well-oiled engines. "woo-yow!" yawned bones, stretched himself, and came blinking into the sunlight. the sun was nearly setting. "what the dooce----" said bones. he stared round. the _wiggle_ had run out from the mouth of the river and was at sea. there was no sign of land of any description. the low-lying shores of the territory had long since gone under the horizon. bones laid his hand on the shoulder of the sleeping girl, and she woke with a start. "dear old shipmate," he said, and his voice trembled, "we're alone on this jolly old ocean! lost the steersman!" she realized the seriousness of the situation in a moment. the dozing engineer, now wide awake, came aft at bones's call, and accepted the disappearance of the steersman without astonishment. "we'll have to go back," said bones, as he swung the wheel round. "i don't think i'm wrong in sayin' that the east is opposite to the west, an', if that's true, we ought to be home in time for dinner." "sar," said boosoobi, who, being a coast boy, elected to speak english, "dem wood she no lib." "hey?" gasped bones, turning pale. "dem wood she be done. i look um. i see um. i no find um." bones sat down heavily on the rail. "what does he say?" pat asked anxiously. "he says there's no more wood," said bones. "the horrid old bunkers are empty, an' we're at the mercy of the tempest." "oh, bones!" she cried, in consternation. but bones had recovered. "what about swimmin' to shore with a line?" he said. "it can't be more than ten miles!" it was ali abid who prevented the drastic step. "sir," he said, "the subject on such occasions should act with deliberate reserve. proximity of land presupposes research. the subject should assist rather than retard research by passivity of action, easy respiration, and general normality of temperature." "which means, dear old miss hamilton, that you've got to keep your wool on," explained bones. what might have happened is not to be recorded, for at that precise moment the s.s. _paretta_ came barging up over the horizon. there was still steam in the _wiggle's_ little boiler, and one log of wood to keep it at pressure. bones was incoherent, but again ali came to the rescue. "sir," he said, "for intimating sos-ness there is upon steamer or launch certain scientific apparatus, unadjusted, but susceptible to treatment." "the wireless!" spluttered bones. "good lor', the wireless!" twenty minutes later the _wiggle_ ran alongside the gangway of the s.s. _paretta_, anticipating the arrival of the _zaire_ by half an hour. the s.s. _paretta_ was at anchor when sanders brought the _zaire_ to the scene. he saw the _wiggle_ riding serenely by the side of the great ship, looking for all the world like a humming bird under the wings of an ostrich, and uttered a little prayer of thankfulness. "they're safe," he said to hamilton. "o yoka, take the _zaire_ to the other side of the big boat." "master, do we go back to-night to seek ko-boru?" asked yoka, who was bearing marks which indicated his strenuous experience, for he had fought his way clear of his captors, and had swum with the stream to headquarters. "to-morrow is also a day," quoth sanders. hamilton was first on the deck of the s.s. _paretta_, and found his sister and a debonair and complacent bones waiting for him. with them was an officer whom hamilton recognized. "company accounts all correct, sir," said bones, "audited by the jolly old paymaster"--he saluted the other officer--"an' found correct, sir, thus anticipatin' all your morose an' savage criticisms." hamilton gripped his hand and grinned. "bones was really wonderful," said the girl, "they wouldn't have seen us if it hadn't been for his idea." "saved by wireless, sir," said bones nonchalantly. "it was a mere nothin'--just a flash of inspiration." "you got the wireless to work?" asked hamilton incredulously. "no, sir," said bones. "but i wanted a little extra steam to get up to the ship, so i burnt the dashed thing. i knew it would come in handy sooner or later." chapter v the remedy beyond the far hills, which no man of the ochori passed, was a range of blue mountains, and behind this again was the l'mandi country. this adventurous hunting men of the ochori had seen, standing in a safe place on the edge of the great king's country. also n'gombi people, who are notoriously disrespectful of all ghosts save their own, had, upon a time, penetrated the northern forest to a high knoll which nature had shaped to the resemblance of a hayrick. a huntsman climbing this after his lawful quarry might gain a nearer view of the blue mountains, all streaked with silver at certain periods of the year, when a hundred streams came leaping with feathery feet from crag to crag to strengthen the forces of the upper river, or, as some said, to create through underground channels the big lakes m'soobo and t'sambi at the back of the n'gombi country. and on summer nights, when the big yellow moon came up and showed all things in her own chaste way, you might see from the knoll of the hayrick these silver ribbons all a-glitter, though the bulk of the mountain was lost to sight. the river folk saw little of the l'mandi, because l'mandi territory lies behind the country of the great king, who looked with a jealous eye upon comings and goings in his land, and severely restricted the movement and the communications of his own people. the great king followed his uncle in the government of the pleasant o'mongo lands, and he had certain advantages and privileges, the significance of which he very imperfectly interpreted. his uncle had died suddenly at the hands of mr. commissioner sanders, c.m.g., and the land itself might have passed to the protection of the crown, for there was gold in the country in large and payable quantities. that such a movement was arrested was due largely to the l'mandi and the influence they were able to exercise upon the european powers by virtue of their military qualities. downing street was all for a permanent occupation of the chief city and the institution of a conventional _rã©gime_; but the l'mandi snarled, clicked their heels, and made jingling noises with their great swords, and there was at that moment a government in office in england which was rather impressed by heel-clicking and sword-jingling, and so the territory of the great king was left intact, and was marked on all maps as omongoland, and coloured red, as being within the sphere of british influence. on the other hand, the l'mandi people had it tinted yellow, and described it as an integral portion of the german colonial empire. there was little communication between l'mandi and sanders's territory, but that little was more than enough for the commissioner, since it took the shape of evangelical incursions carried out by missionaries who were in the happy position of not being obliged to say as much as "by your leave," since they had secured from a government which was, as i say, impressed by heel-clicking and sword-jingling, an impressive document, charging "all commissioners, sub-commissioners, magistrates, and officers commanding our native forces," to give facilities to these good christian gentlemen. there were missionaries in the territories who looked askance at their brethren, and ferguson, of the river mission, made a journey to headquarters to lay his views upon the subject before the commissioner. "these fellows aren't missionaries at all, mr. sanders; they are just political agents utilizing sacred symbols to further a political propaganda." "that is a government palaver," smiled sanders, and that was all the satisfaction ferguson received. nevertheless, sanders was watchful, for there were times when the l'mandi missioners and their friends strayed outside their sphere. once the l'mandi folk had landed in a village in the middle ochori, had flogged the headman, and made themselves free of the commodities which the people of the village had put aside for the payment of their taxation. in his wrath, bosambo, the chief, had taken ten war canoes; but sanders, who had been in the akasava on a shooting trip, was there before him, and had meted out swift justice to the evil-doers. "and let me tell you, bosambo," said sanders severely, "that you shall not bring spears except at my word." "lord," said bosambo, frankness itself, "if i disobeyed you, it was because i was too hot to think." sanders nodded. "that i know," he said. "now i tell you this, bosambo, and this is the way of very wise men--that when they go to do evil things with a hot heart, they first sleep, and in their sleep their spirits go free and talk with the wise and the dead, and when they wake, their hearts are cool, and they see all the folly of the night, and their eyes are bright for their own faults." "master," said bosambo, "you are my father and my mother, and all the people of the river you carry in your arms. now i say to you that when i go to do an evil thing i will first sleep, and i will make all my people sleep also." there are strange stories in circulation as to the manner in which bosambo carried out this novel reform. there is the story of an ochori wife-beater who, adjured by his chief, retired to slumber on his grievance, and came to his master the following morning with the information that he had not closed his eyes. whereupon bosambo clubbed him insensible, in order that sanders's plan might have a fair chance. at least, this is the story which hamilton retailed at breakfast one morning. sanders, appealed to for confirmation, admitted cautiously that he had heard the legend, but did not trouble to make an investigation. "the art of governing a native country," he said, "is the art of not asking questions." "but suppose you want to know something?" demanded patricia. "then," said sanders, with a twinkle in his eyes, "you must pretend that you know." "what is there to do to-day?" asked hamilton, rolling his serviette. he addressed himself to lieutenant tibbetts, who, to sanders's intense annoyance, invariably made elaborate notes of all the commissioner said. "nothin' until this afternoon, sir," said bones, closing his notebook briskly, "then we're doin' a little deep-sea fishin'." the girl made a grimace. "we didn't catch anything yesterday, bones," she objected. "we used the wrong kind of worm," said bones confidently. "i've found a new worm nest in the plantation. jolly little fellers they are, too." "what are we doing to-day, bones?" repeated hamilton ominously. bones puckered his brows. "deep-sea fishin', dear old officer and comrade," he repeated, "an' after dinner a little game of tiddly-winks--bones _v._ jolly old hamilton's sister, for the championship of the river an' the sanders cup." hamilton breathed deeply, but was patient. "your king and your country," he said, "pay you seven and eightpence per diem----" "oh," said bones, a light dawning, "you mean _work_?" "strange, is it not," mused hamilton, "that we should consider----hullo!" they followed the direction of his eyes. a white bird was circling groggily above the plantation, as though uncertain where to alight. there was weariness in the beat of its wings, in the irregularity of its flight. bones leapt over the rail of the verandah and ran towards the square. he slowed down as he came to a place beneath the bird, and whistled softly. bones's whistle was a thing of remarkable sweetness--it was his one accomplishment, according to hamilton, and had neither tune nor rhyme. it was a succession of trills, rising and falling, and presently, after two hesitating swoops, the bird rested on his outstretched hand. he came back to the verandah and handed the pigeon to sanders. the commissioner lifted the bird and with gentle fingers removed the slip of thin paper fastened to its leg by a rubber band. before he opened the paper he handed the weary little servant of the government to an orderly. "lord, this is sombubo," said abiboo, and he lifted the pigeon to his cheek, "and he comes from the ochori." sanders had recognized the bird, for sombubo was the swiftest, the wisest, and the strongest of all his messengers, and was never dispatched except on the most critical occasions. he smoothed the paper and read the letter, which was in arabic. "from the servant of god bosambo, in the ochori city, to sandi, where-the-sea-runs. "there have come three white men from the l'mandi country, and they have crossed the mountains. they sit with the akasava in full palaver. they say there shall be no more taxes for the people of the river, but there shall come a new king greater than any. and every man shall have goats and salt and free hunting. they say the akasava shall be given all the ochori country, also guns like the white man. many guns and a thousand carriers are in the mountains waiting to come. i hold the ochori with all my spears. also the isisi chief calls his young men for your king. "peace be on your house in the name of allah compassionate and merciful." "m-m!" said sanders, as he folded the paper. "i'm afraid there will be no fishing this afternoon. bones, take the _wiggle_ and get up to the akasava as fast as you can; i will follow on the _zaire_. abiboo!" "lord?" "you will find me a swift ochori pigeon. hamilton, scribble a line to bosambo, and say that he shall meet bones by sokala's village." half an hour later bones was sending incomprehensible semaphore signals of farewell as the _wiggle_ slipped round the bend of the river. sokala, a little chief of the isisi, was a rich man. he had ten wives, each of whom lived in her own hut. also each wife wore about her neck a great ring of brass weighing twenty pounds, to testify to the greatness and wealth of her lord. sokala was wizened and lined of face, and across his forehead were many deep furrows, and it seemed that he lived in a state of perplexity as to what should become of all his riches when he died, for he was cursed with ten daughters--o'femi, jubasami, k'sola, m'kema, wasonga, mombari, et cetera. when wasonga was fourteen, there was revealed to sokala, her father, a great wonder. the vision came at the tail end of a year of illness, when his head had ached for weeks together, and not even the brass wire twisted lightly about his skull brought him relief. sokala was lying on his fine bed of skins, wondering why strange animals sat by the fire in the centre of his hut, and why they showed their teeth and talked in human language. sometimes they were leopards, sometimes they were little white-whiskered monkeys that scratched and told one another stories, and these monkeys were the wisest of all, for they discussed matters which were of urgency to the sick man rolling restlessly from side to side. on this great night two such animals had appeared suddenly, a big grey fellow with a solemn face, and a very little one, and they sat staring into the fire, mechanically seeking their fleas until the little one spoke. "sokala is very rich and has ten daughters." "that is true," said the other; "also he will die because he has no son." sokala's heart beat furiously with fear, but he listened when the little black monkey spoke. "if sokala took wasonga, his daughter, into the forest near to the tree and slew her, his daughters would become sons and he would grow well." and the other monkey nodded. as they talked, sokala recognized the truth of all that they had said. he wondered that he had never thought of the matter before in this way. all night long he lay thinking--thinking--long after the fires had died down to a full red glow amidst white ashes, and the monkeys had vanished. in the cold dawn his people found him sitting on the side of the bed, and marvelled that he should have lived the night through. "send me wasonga, my daughter," he said, and they brought a sleepy girl of fourteen, tall, straight, and wholly reluctant. "we go a journey," said sokala, and took from beneath his bed his wicker shield and his sharp-edged throwing-spear. "sokala hunts," said the people of the village significantly, and they knew that the end was very near, for he had been a great hunter, and men turn in death to the familiar pursuits of life. three miles on the forest road to the isisi city, sokala bade his daughter sit on the ground. bones had met and was in earnest conversation with the chief of the ochori, the _wiggle_ being tied up at a wooding, when he heard a scream, and saw a girl racing through the wood towards him. behind her, with the foolish stare on his face which comes to men in the last stages of sleeping sickness, his spear balanced, came sokala. the girl tumbled in a wailing, choking heap at bones's feet, and her pursuer checked at the sight of the white man. "i see you, sokala,"[2] said bones gently. [footnote 2: the native equivalent for "good morning."] "lord," said the old man, blinking at the officer of the houssas, "you shall see a wonderful magic when i slay this woman, for my daughters shall be sons, and i shall be a well man." bones took the spear from his unresisting hand. "i will show you a greater magic, sokala, for i will give you a little white stone which will melt like salt in your mouth, and you shall sleep." the old man peered from lieutenant tibbetts to the king of the ochori. he watched bones as he opened his medicine chest and shook out two little white pellets from a bottle marked "veronal," and accepted them gratefully. "god bless my life," cried bones, "don't chew 'em, you dear old silly--swallow 'em!" "lord," said sokala soberly, "they have a beautiful and a magic taste." bones sent the frightened girl back to the village, and made the old man sit by a tree. "o tibbetti," said bosambo, in admiration, "that was a good palaver. for it is better than the letting of blood, and no one will know that sokala did not die in his time." bones looked at him in horror. "goodness gracious heavens, bosambo," he gasped, "you don't think i've poisoned him?" "master," said bosambo, nodding his head, "he die one time--he not fit for lib--you give um plenty no-good stuff. you be fine christian feller same like me." bones wiped the perspiration from his brow and explained the action of veronal. bosambo was sceptical. even when sokala fell into a profound slumber, bosambo waited expectantly for his death. and when he realized that bones had spoken the truth, he was a most amazed man. "master," he said, in that fluid ochori dialect which seems to be made up of vowels, "this is a great magic. now i see very surely that you hold wonderful ju-jus, and i have wronged you, for i thought you were without wisdom." "cheer-oh!" said the gratified bones. * * * * * near by the city of the akasava is a small hill on which no vegetation grows, though it rises from a veritable jungle of undergrowth. the akasava call this place the hill of the women, because it was here that m'lama, the king of the akasava, slew a hundred akasava maidens to propitiate m'shimba m'shamba, the god of storms. it was on the topmost point of the hill that sanders erected a fine gallows and hung m'lama for his country's good. it had always been associated with the spiritual history of the akasava, for ghosts and devils and strange ju-jus had their home hereabouts, and every great decision at which the people arrived was made upon its slopes. at the crest there was a palaver house--no more than a straw-thatched canopy affording shelter for four men at the most. on a certain afternoon all the chiefs, great and minor, the headmen, the warriors, and the leaders of fishing villages of the akasava, squatted in a semicircle and listened to the oration of a bearded man, who spoke easily in the river dialect of the happy days which were coming to the people. by his side were two other white men--a tall, clean-shaven man with spectacles, and a stouter man with a bristling white moustache. had the bearded man's address been in plain english, or even plain german, and had it been delivered to european hearers accustomed to taking its religion in allegories and symbols, it would have been harmless. as it was, the illustrations and the imagery which the speaker employed had no other interpretation to the simple-minded akasava than a purely material one. "i speak for the great king," said the orator, throwing out his arms, "a king who is more splendid than any. he has fierce and mighty armies that cover the land like ants. he holds thunder and lightning in his hand, and is greater than m'shimba m'shamba. he is the friend of the black man and the white, and will deliver you from all oppression. he will give you peace and full crops, and make you _capita_ over your enemies. when he speaks, all other kings tremble. he is a great buffalo, and the pawing of his hoofs shakes the earth. "this he says to you, the warrior people of the akasava----" the message was destined to be undelivered. heads began to turn, and there was a whisper of words. some of the audience half rose, some on the outskirts of the gathering stole quietly away--the lesser chiefs were amongst these--and others, sitting stolidly on, assumed a blandness and a scepticism of demeanour calculated to meet the needs of the occasion. for sanders was at the foot of the hill, a trim figure in white, his solar helmet pushed back to cover the nape of his neck from the slanting rays of the sun, and behind sanders were two white officers and a company of houssas with fixed bayonets. not a word said sanders, but slowly mounted the hill of the dead. he reached the palaver house and turned. "let no man go," he said, observing the disposition of the gathering to melt away, "for this is a great palaver, and i come to speak for these god-men." the bearded orator glared at the commissioner and half turned to his companions. the stout man with the moustache said something quickly, but sanders silenced him with a gesture. "o people," said sanders, "you all know that under my king men may live in peace, and death comes quickly to those who make war. also you may worship in what manner you desire, though it be my god or the famous gods of your fathers. and such as preach of god or gods have full liberty. who denies this?" "lord, you speak the truth," said an eager headman. "therefore," said sanders, "my king has given these god-men a book[3] that they may speak to you, and they have spoken. of a great king they tell. also of wonders which will come to you if you obey him. but this king is the same king of whom the god-cross men and the water-god men tell. for he lives beyond the stars, and his name is god. tell me, preacher, if this is the truth?" [footnote 3: a book = written permission, any kind of document or writing.] the bearded man swallowed something and muttered, "this is true." "also, there is no king in this world greater than my king, whom you serve," sanders continued, "and it is your duty to be obedient to him, and his name is d'jorja." sanders raised his hand to his helmet in salute. "this also the god-men will tell you." he turned to the three evangelists. herr professor wiessmann hesitated for the fraction of a second. the pause was pardonable, for he saw the undoing of three months' good work, and his thoughts at that moment were with a certain party of carriers who waited in the mountains. "the question of earthly and heavenly dominion is always debatable," he began in english, but sanders stopped him. "we will speak in the akasava tongue," he said, "and let all men hear. tell me, shall my people serve my king, or shall they serve another?" "they shall serve your king," growled the man, "for it is the law." "thank you," said sanders in english. the gathering slowly dispersed, leaving only the white men on the hill and a few lingering folk at the foot, watching the stolid native soldiery with an apprehension born of experience. "we should like you to dine with us," said sanders pleasantly. the leader of the l'mandi mission hesitated, but the thin man with the spectacles, who had been silent, answered for him. "we shall be pleased, mr. commissioner," he said. "after eating with these swine for a month, a good dinner would be very acceptable." sanders said nothing, though he winced at the inelegant description of his people, and the three evangelists went back to their huts, which had been built for their use by the akasava chief. an hour later that worthy sent for a certain witch-doctor. "go secretly," he said, "and call all headmen and chiefs to the breaking tree in the forest. there they shall be until the moon comes up, and the l'mandi lords will come and speak freely. and you shall tell them that the word he spoke before sandi was no true word, but to-night he shall speak the truth, and when sandi is gone we shall have wonderful guns and destroy all who oppose us." this the witch-doctor did, and came back by the river path. here, by all accounts, he met bosambo, and would have passed on; but the chief of the ochori, being in a curious mind and being, moreover, suspicious, was impressed by the importance of the messenger, and made inquiries.... an old man is a great lover of life, and after the witch-doctor's head had been twice held under water--for the river was providentially near--he gasped the truth. * * * * * the three missioners were very grateful guests indeed. they were the more grateful because patricia hamilton was an unexpected hostess. they clicked their heels and kissed her hand and drank her health many times in good hock. the dinner was a feast worthy of lucullus, they swore, the wine was perfect, and the coffee--which abiboo handed round with a solemn face--was wonderful. they sat chatting for a time, and then the bearded man looked at his watch. "to bed, gentlemen," he said gaily. "we leave you, herr commissioner, in good friendship, we trust?" "oh, most excellent," said sanders awkwardly, for he was a poor liar, and knew that his spies were waiting on the bank to "pick up" these potential enemies of his. he watched them go ashore and disappear into the darkness of the forest path that leads to the village. the moon was rising over the tall trees, and an expectant gathering of akasava notables were waiting for a white spokesman who came not, when bosambo and his bodyguard were engaged in lifting three unconscious men and laying them in a large canoe. he himself paddled the long boat to midstream, where two currents run swiftly, one to the sea and one to the isisi river, which winds for a hundred miles until it joins the congo. "go with god," said bosambo piously, as he stepped into his own canoe, and released his hold of the other with its slumbering freight, "for if your king is so great, he will bring you to your own lands; and if he is not great, then you are liars. o abiboo"--he spoke over his shoulder to the sergeant of houssas--"tell me, how many of the magic white stones of bonesi did you put in their drink?" "bosambo, i put four in each, as you told me, and if my lord tibbetti misses them, what shall i say?" "you shall say," said bosambo, "that this is sandi's own word--that when men plan evils they must first sleep. and i think these men will sleep for a long time. perhaps they will sleep for ever--all things are with god." chapter vi the medicine man at the flood season, before the turbulent tributaries of the isisi river had been induced to return to their accustomed channels, sanders came back to headquarters a very weary man, for he had spent a horrid week in an endeavour--successful, but none the less nerve-racking--to impress an indolent people that the swamping of their villages was less a matter of providence and ghosts than the neglect of elementary precaution. "for i told you, ranabini," said an exasperated sanders, "that you should keep the upper channel free from trees and branches, and i have paid you many bags of salt for your services." "lord, it is so," said ranabini, scratching his brown leg thoughtfully. "at the full of the moon, before the rains, did i not ask you if the channel was clear, and did you not say it was like the street of your village?" demanded sanders, in wrath. "lord," said ranabini frankly, "i lied to you, thinking your lordship was mad. for what other man would foresee with his wonderful eye that rains would come? therefore, lord, i did not think of the upper channel, and many trees floated down and made a little dam. lord, i am an ignorant man, and my mind is full of my own brother, who has come from a long distance to see me, for he is a very sick man." sanders's mind was occupied by no thought of ranabini's sick brother, as the dazzling white _zaire_ went thrashing her way down stream. for he himself was a tired man, and needed rest, and there was a dose of malaria looming in the offing, as his aching head told him. it was as though his brains were arranged in slats, like a venetian blind, and these slats were opening and closing swiftly, bringing with each lightning flicker a momentary unconsciousness. captain hamilton met him on the quay, and when sanders landed--walking a thought unsteadily, and instantly began a long and disjointed account of his adventures on a norwegian salmon river--hamilton took him by the arm and led the way to the bungalow. in ten minutes he was assisting sanders into his pyjamas, sanders protesting, albeit feebly, and when, after forcing an astonishing amount of quinine and arsenic down his chief's throat, hamilton came from the semi-darkness of the bungalow to the white glare of the barrack square, hamilton was thoughtful. "let one of your women watch by the bed of the lord sandi," said he to sergeant abiboo, of the houssas, "and she shall call me if he grows worse." "on my life," said abiboo, and was going off. "where is tibbetti?" asked hamilton. the sergeant turned back and seemed embarrassed. "lord," he said, "tibbetti has gone with the lady, your sister, to make a palaver with jimbujini, the witch-doctor of the akasava. they sit in the forest in a magic circle, and lo! tibbetti grows very wise." hamilton swore under his breath. he had ordered lieutenant tibbetts, his second-in-command, prop, stay, and aide-de-camp, to superintend the drill of some raw kano recruits who had been sent from the coast. "go tell the lord tibbetti to come to me," he said, "but first send your woman to sandi." lieutenant tibbetts, with his plain, boyish face all red with his exertions, yet dignified withal, came hurriedly from his studies. "come aboard, sir," he said, and saluted extravagantly, blinking at his superior with a curious solemnity of mien which was his own peculiar expression. "bones," said hamilton, "where the dickens have you been?" bones drew a long breath. he hesitated, then-"knowledge," he said shortly. hamilton looked at his subordinate in alarm. "dash it, you aren't off your head, too, are you?" bones shook his head with vigour. "knowledge of the occult, sir and brother-officer," he said. "one is never too old to learn, sir, in this jolly old world." "quite right," said hamilton; "in fact, i'm pretty certain that you'll never live long enough to learn everything." "thank you, sir," said bones. the girl, who had had less qualms than bones when the summons arrived, and had, in consequence, returned more leisurely, came into the room. "pat," said her brother, "sanders is down with fever." "fever!" she said a little breathlessly. "it isn't--dangerous?" bones, smiling indulgently, soothed her. "nothin' catchin', dear miss patricia hamilton," he began. "please don't be stupid," she said so fiercely that bones recoiled. "do you think i'm afraid of catching anything? is it dangerous for mr. sanders?" she asked her brother. "no more dangerous than a cold in the head," he answered flippantly. "my dear child, we all have fever. you'll have it, too, if you go out at sunset without your mosquito boots." he explained, with the easy indifference of a man inured to malaria, the habits of the mosquito--his predilection for ankles and wrists, where the big veins and arteries are nearer to the surface--but the girl was not reassured. she would have sat up with sanders, but the idea so alarmed hamilton that she abandoned it. "he'd never forgive me," he said. "my dear girl, he'll be as right as a trivet in the morning." she was sceptical, but, to her amazement, sanders turned up at breakfast his usual self, save that he was a little weary-eyed, and that his hand shook when he raised his coffee-cup to his lips. a miracle, thought patricia hamilton, and said so. "not at all, dear miss," said bones, now, as ever, accepting full credit for all phenomena she praised, whether natural or supernatural. "this is simply nothin' to what happened to me. ham, dear old feller, do you remember when i was brought down from the machengombi river? simply delirious--ravin'--off my head." "so much so," said hamilton, slicing the top off his egg, "that we didn't think you were ill." "if you'd seen me," bones went on, solemnly shaking one skinny forefinger at the girl, "you'd have said: 'bones is for the high jump.'" "i should have said nothing so vulgar, bones," she retorted. "and was it malaria?" "ah," said hamilton triumphantly, "i was too much of a gentleman to hint that it wasn't. press the question, pat." bones shrugged his shoulders and cast a look of withering contempt upon his superior. "in the execution of one's duty, dear miss patricia h," he said, "the calibre of the gun that lays a fellow low, an' plunges his relations an' creditors into mournin', is beside the point. the only consideration, as dear old omar says, is- "'the movin' finger hits, an', havin' hit, moves on, tum tumty tumty tay, and all a feller does won't make the slightest difference.'" "is that omar or shakespeare?" asked the dazed hamilton. "be quiet, dear. what was the illness, bones?" "measles," said hamilton brutally, "and german measles at that." "viciously put, dear old officer, but, nevertheless, true," said bones buoyantly. "but when the hut's finished, i'll return good for evil. there's goin' to be a revolution, miss patricia hamilton. no more fever, no more measles--health, wealth, an' wisdom, by gad!" "sunstroke," diagnosed hamilton. "pull yourself together, bones--you're amongst friends." but bones was superior to sarcasm. there was a creature of lieutenant tibbetts a solemn, brown man, who possessed, in addition to a vocabulary borrowed from a departed professor of bacteriology, a rough working knowledge of the classics. this man's name was, as i have already explained, abid ali or ali abid, and in him bones discovered a treasure beyond price. bones had recently built himself a large square hut near the seashore--that is to say, he had, with the expenditure of a great amount of midnight oil, a pair of compasses, a box of paints, and a t-square, evolved a somewhat complicated plan whereon certain blue oblongs stood for windows, and certain red cones indicated doors. to this he had added an elevation in the severe georgian style. with his plan beautifully drawn to scale, with sectional diagrams and side elevations embellishing its margin, he had summoned mojeri of the lower isisi, famous throughout the land as a builder of great houses, and to him he had entrusted the execution of his design. "this you shall build for me, mojeri," said bones, sucking the end of his pencil and gazing lovingly at the plan outspread before him, "and you shall be famous all through the world. this room shall be twice as large as that, and you shall cunningly contrive a passage so that i may move from one to the other, and none see me come or go. also, this shall be my sleeping-place, and this a great room where i will practise powerful magics." mojeri took the plan in his hand and looked at it. he turned it upside down and looked at it that way. then he looked at it sideways. "lord," said he, putting down the plan with a reverent hand, "all these wonders i shall remember." "and did he?" asked hamilton, when bones described the interview. bones blinked and swallowed. "he went away and built me a square hut--just a plain square hut. mojeri is an ass, sir--a jolly old fraud an' humbug, sir. he----" "let me see the plan," said hamilton, and his subordinate produced the cartridge paper. "h'm!" said hamilton, after a careful scrutiny. "very pretty. but how did you get into your room?" "through the door, dear old officer," said the sarcastic bones. "i thought it might be through the roof," said hamilton, "or possibly you made one of your famous dramatic entries through a star-trap in the floor- "'who is it speaks in those sepulchral tones? it is the demon king--the grisly bones! bing!' "and up you pop amidst red fire and smoke." a light dawned on bones. "do you mean to tell me, jolly old ham, that i forgot to put a door into my room?" he asked incredulously, and peered over his chief's shoulder. "that is what i mean, bones. and where does the passage lead to?" "that goes straight from my sleepin' room to the room marked l," said bones, in triumph. "then you _were_ going to be a demon king," said the admiring hamilton. "but fortunately for you, bones, the descent to l is not so easy--you've drawn a party wall across----" "l stands for laboratory," explained the architect hurriedly. "an' where's the wall? god bless my jolly old soul, so i have! anyway, that could have been rectified in a jiffy." "speaking largely," said hamilton, after a careful scrutiny of the plan, "i think mojeri has acted wisely. you will have to be content with the one room. what was the general idea of the house, anyway?" "science an' general illumination of the human mind," said bones comprehensively. "i see," said hamilton. "you were going to make fireworks. a splendid idea, bones." "painful as it is to undeceive you, dear old sir," said bones, with admirable patience, "i must tell you that i'm takin' up my medical studies where i left off. recently i've been wastin' my time, sir: precious hours an' minutes have been passed in frivolous amusement--_tempus fugit_, sir an' captain, _festina lente_, an' i might add----" "don't," begged hamilton; "you give me a headache." there was a look of interest in bones's eyes. "if i may be allowed to prescribe, sir----" he began. "thanks, i'd rather have the headache," replied hamilton hastily. it was nearly a week before the laboratory was fitted that bones gave a house-warming, which took the shape of an afternoon tea. bones, arrayed in a long white coat, wearing a ferocious lint mask attached to huge mica goggles, through which he glared on the world, met the party at the door and bade them a muffled welcome. they found the interior of the hut a somewhat uncomfortable place. the glass retorts, test tubes, bottles, and the paraphernalia of science which bones had imported crowded the big table, the shelves, and even overflowed on to the three available chairs. "welcome to my little workroom," said the hollow voice of bones from behind the mask. "wel----don't put your foot in the crucible, dear old officer! you're sittin' on the methylated spirits, ma'am! phew!" bones removed his mask and showed a hot, red face. "don't take it off, bones," begged hamilton; "it improves you." sanders was examining the microscope, which stood under a big glass shade. "you're very complete, bones," he said approvingly. "in what branch of science are you dabbling?" "tropical diseases, sir," said bones promptly, and lifted the shade. "i'm hopin' you'll allow me to have a look at your blood after tea." "thank you," said sanders. "you had better practise on hamilton." "don't come near me!" threatened hamilton. it was patricia who, when the tea-things had been removed, played the heroine. "take mine," she said, and extended her hand. bones found a needle, and sterilized it in the flame of a spirit lamp. "this won't hurt you," he quavered, and brought the point near the white, firm flesh. then he drew it back again. "this won't hurt you, dear old miss," he croaked, and repeated the performance. he stood up and wiped his streaming brow. "i haven't the heart to do it," he said dismally. "a pretty fine doctor you are, bones!" she scoffed, and took the needle from his hand. "there!" bones put the tiny crimson speck between his slides, blobbed a drop of oil on top, and focussed the microscope. he looked for a long time, then turned a scared face to the girl. "sleepin' sickness, poor dear old miss hamilton!" he gasped. "you're simply full of tryps! good lord! what a blessin' for you i discovered it!" sanders pushed the young scientist aside and looked. when he turned his head, the girl saw his face was white and drawn, and for a moment a sense of panic overcame her. "you silly ass," growled the commissioner, "they aren't trypnosomes! you haven't cleaned the infernal eyepiece!" "not trypnosomes?" said bones. "you seem disappointed, bones," said hamilton. "as a man, i'm overjoyed," replied bones gloomily; "as a scientist, it's a set-back, dear old officer--a distinct set-back." the house-warming lasted a much shorter time than the host had intended. this was largely due to the failure of a very beautiful experiment which he had projected. in order that the rare and wonderful result at which he aimed should be achieved, bones had the hut artificially darkened, and they sat in a hot and sticky blackness, whilst he knocked over bottles and swore softly at the instruments his groping hand could not discover. and the end of the experiment was a large, bad smell. "the women and children first," said hamilton, and dived for the door. they took farewell of bones at a respectful distance. hamilton went across to the houssa lines, and sanders walked back to the residency with the girl. for a little while they spoke of bones and his newest craze, and then suddenly the girl asked-"you didn't really think there were any of those funny things in my blood, did you?" sanders looked straight ahead. "i thought--you see, we know--the tryp is a distinct little body, and anybody who had lived in this part of the world for a time can pick him out. bones, of course, knows nothing thoroughly--i should have remembered that." she said nothing until they reached the verandah, and she turned to go to her room. "it wasn't nice, was it?" she said. sanders shook his head. "it was a taste of hell," he said simply. and she fetched a quick, long sigh and patted his arm before she realized what she was doing. bones, returning from his hut, met sanders hurrying across the square. "bones, i want you to go up to the isisi," said the commissioner. "there's an outbreak of some weird disease, probably due to the damming of the little river by ranabini, and the flooding of the low forests." bones brightened up. "sir an' excellency," he said gratefully, "comin' from you, this tribute to my scientific----" "don't be an ass, bones!" said sanders irritably. "your job is to make these beggars work. they'll simply sit and die unless you start them on drainage work. cut a few ditches with a fall to the river; kick ranabini for me; take up a few kilos of quinine and dose them." nevertheless, bones managed to smuggle on board quite a respectable amount of scientific apparatus, and came in good heart to the despondent folk of the lower isisi. three weeks after bones had taken his departure, sanders was sitting at dinner in a very thoughtful mood. patricia had made several ineffectual attempts to draw him into a conversation, and had been answered in monosyllables. at first she had been piqued and a little angry, but, as the meal progressed, she realized that matters of more than ordinary seriousness were occupying his thoughts, and wisely changed her attitude of mind. a chance reference to bones, however, succeeded where more pointed attempts had failed. "yes," said sanders, in answer to the question she had put, "bones has some rough idea of medical practice. he was a cub student at bart.'s for two years before he realized that surgery and medicines weren't his forte." "don't you sometimes feel the need of a doctor here?" she asked, and sanders smiled. "there is very little necessity. the military doctor comes down occasionally from headquarters, and we have a native apothecary. we have few epidemics amongst the natives, and those the medical missions deal with--sleep-sickness, beri-beri and the like. sometimes, of course, we have a pretty bad outbreak which spreads----don't go, hamilton--i want to see you for a minute." hamilton had risen, and was making for his room, with a little nod to his sister. at sanders's word he turned. "walk with me for a few minutes," said sanders, and, with an apology to the girl, he followed the other from the room. "what is it?" asked hamilton. sanders was perturbed--this he knew, and his own move towards his room was in the nature of a challenge for information. "bones," said the commissioner shortly. "do you realize that we have had no news from him since he left?" hamilton smiled. "he's an erratic beggar, but nothing could have happened to him, or we should have heard about it." sanders did not reply at once. he paced up and down the gravelled path before the residency, his hands behind him. "no news has come from ranabini's village for the simple reason that nobody has entered or left it since bones arrived," he said. "it is situated, as you know, on a tongue of land at the confluence of two rivers. no boat has left the beaches, and an attempt to reach it by land has been prevented by force." "by force?" repeated the startled hamilton. sanders nodded. "i had the report in this morning. two men of the isisi from another village went to call on some relations. they were greeted with arrows, and returned hurriedly. the headman of m'gomo village met with the same reception. this came to the ears of my chief spy ahmet, who attempted to paddle to the island in his canoe. at a distance of two hundred yards he was fired upon." "then they've got bones?" gasped hamilton. "on the contrary, bones nearly got ahmet, for bones was the marksman." the two men paced the path in silence. "either bones has gone mad," said hamilton, "or----" "or----?" hamilton laughed helplessly. "i can't fathom the mystery," he said. "mcmasters will be down to-morrow, to look at some sick men. we'll take him up, and examine the boy." it was a subdued little party that boarded the _zaire_ the following morning, and patricia hamilton, who came to see them off, watched their departure with a sense of impending trouble. dr. mcmasters alone was cheerful, for this excursion represented a break in a somewhat monotonous routine. "it may be the sun," he suggested. "i have known several fellows who have gone a little nutty from that cause. i remember a man at grand bassam who shot----" "oh, shut up, mac, you grisly devil!" snapped hamilton. "talk about butterflies." the _zaire_ swung round the bend of the river that hid ranabini's village from view, but had scarcely come into sight when-"ping!" sanders saw the bullet strike the river ahead of the boat, and send a spiral column of water shooting into the air. he put up his glasses and focussed them on the village beach. "bones!" he said grimly. "take her in, abiboo." as the steersman spun the wheel-"ping!" this time the shot fell to the right. the three white men looked at one another. "let every man take cover," said sanders quietly. "we're going to that beach even if bones has a battery of 75's!" an exclamation from hamilton arrested him. "he's signalling," said the houssa captain, and sanders put up his glasses again. bones's long arms were waving at ungainly angles as he semaphored his warning. hamilton opened his notebook and jotted down the message-"awfully sorry, dear old officer," he spelt, and grinned at the unnecessary exertion of this fine preliminary flourish, "but must keep you away. bad outbreak of virulent smallpox----" sanders whistled, and pulled back the handle of the engine-room telegraph to "stop." "my god!" said hamilton through his teeth, for he had seen such an outbreak once, and knew something of its horrors. whole districts had been devastated in a night. one tribe had been wiped out, and the rotting frames of their houses still showed amidst the tangle of elephant grass which had grown up through the ruins. he wiped his forehead and read the message a little unsteadily, for his mind was on his sister- "had devil of fight, and lost twenty men, but got it under. come and get me in three weeks. had to stay here for fear careless devils spreading disease." sanders looked at hamilton, and mcmasters chuckled. "this is where i get a swift vacation," he said, and called his servant. hamilton leapt on to the rail, and steadying himself against a stanchion, waved a reply-"we are sending you a doctor." back came the reply in agitated sweeps of arm-"doctor be blowed! what am i?" "what shall i say, sir?" asked hamilton after he had delivered the message. "just say 'a hero,'" said sanders huskily. chapter vii bones, king-maker patricia hamilton, an observant young lady, had not failed to notice that every day, at a certain hour, bones disappeared from view. it was not for a long time that she sought an explanation. "where is bones?" she asked one morning, when the absence of her cavalier was unusually protracted. "with his baby," said her brother. "please don't be comic, dear. where is bones? i thought i saw him with the ship's doctor." the mail had come in that morning, and the captain and surgeon of the s.s. _boma queen_ had been their guests at breakfast. hamilton looked up from his book and removed his pipe. "do you mean to tell me that bones has kept his guilty secret all this time?" he asked anxiously. she sat down by his side. "please tell me the joke. this isn't the first time you have ragged bones about 'the baby'; even mr. sanders has done it." she looked across at the commissioner with a reproving shake of her pretty head. "have _i_ ragged bones?" asked sanders, in surprise. "i never thought i was capable of ragging anybody." "the truth is, pat," said her brother, "there isn't any rag about the matter. bones adopted a piccanin." "a child?" "a baby about a month old. its mother died, and some old bird of a witch-doctor was 'chopping' it when bones appeared on the scene." patricia gave a little gurgle of delight and clapped her hands. "oh, please tell me everything about it." "it was sanders who told her of henry hamilton bones, his dire peril and his rescue; it was hamilton who embellished the story of how bones had given his adopted son his first bath. "just dropped him into a tub and stirred him round with a mop." soon after this bones came blithely up from the beach and across the parade-ground, his large pipe in his mouth, his cane awhirl. hamilton watched him from the verandah of the residency, and called over his shoulder to patricia. it had been an anxious morning for bones, and even hamilton was compelled to confess to himself that he had felt the strain, though he had not mentioned the fact to his sister. outside in the roadstead the intermediate elder dempster boat was waiting the return of the doctor. bones had been to see him off. an important day, indeed, for henry hamilton bones had been vaccinated. "i think it 'took,'" said bones gravely, answering the other's question. "i must say henry behaved like a gentleman." "what did fitz say?" (fitzgerald, the doctor, had come in accordance with his promise to perform the operation.) "fitz?" said bones, and his voice trembled. "fitz is a cad!" hamilton grinned. "he said that babies didn't feel pain, and there was henry howling his young head off. it was horrible!" bones wiped his streaming brow with a large and violent bandana, and looked round cautiously. "not a word, ham, to her!" he said, in a loud whisper. "sorry!" said hamilton, picking up his pipe. "her knows." "good gad!" said bones, in despair, and turned to meet the girl. "oh, bones!" she said reproachfully, "you never told me!" bones shrugged his shoulders, opened his mouth, dropped his pipe, blinked, spread out his hands in deprecation, and picked up his pipe. from which it may be gathered that he was agitated. "dear old miss hamilton," he said tremulously, "i should be a horrid bounder if i denied henry hamilton bones--poor little chap. if i never mentioned him, dear old sister, it is because----ah, well, you will never understand." he hunched his shoulders dejectedly. "don't be an ass, bones. why the dickens are you making a mystery of the thing?" asked hamilton. "i'll certify you're a jolly good father to the brat." "not 'brat,' dear old sir," begged bones. "henry is a human being with a human heart. that boy"--he wagged his finger solemnly--"knows me the moment i go into the hut. to see him sit up an' say 'da!' dear old sister hamilton," he went on incoherently, "to see him open his mouth with a smile, one tooth through, an' one you can feel with your little finger--why, it's--it's wonderful, jolly old miss hamilton! damn it, it's wonderful!" "bones!" cried the shocked girl. "i can't help it, madame," said bones miserably. "fitz cut his poor little, fat little arm. oh, fitz is a low cad! cut it, my dear old patricia, mercilessly--yes, mercilessly, brutally, an' the precious little blighter didn't so much as call for the police. good gad, it was terrible!" his eyes were moist, and he blew his nose with great vigour. "i'm sure it was awful," she soothed him. "may i come and see him?" bones raised a warning hand, and, though the habitat of the wonderful child could not have been less than half a mile away, lowered his voice. "he's asleep--fitfully, but asleep. i've told them to call me if he has a turn for the worse, an' i'm goin' down with a gramophone after dinner, in case the old fellow wants buckin' up. but now he's asleep, thankin' you for your great kindness an' sympathy, dear old miss, in the moment of singular trial." he took her hand and shook it heartily, tried to say something, and swallowed hard, then, turning, walked from the verandah in the direction of his hut. the girl was smiling, but there were tears in her eyes. "what a boy!" she said, half to herself. sanders nodded. "bones is very nice," he said, and she looked at him curiously. "that is almost eloquent," she said quietly. "i thought it was rather bald," he replied. "you see, few people really understand bones. i thought, the first time i saw him, that he was a fool. i was wrong. then i thought he was effeminate. i was wrong again, for he has played the man whenever he was called upon to do so. bones is one of those rare creatures--a man with all the moral equipment of a good woman." her eyes were fixed on his, and for a moment they held. then hers dropped quickly, and she flushed ever so slightly. "i think you have defined the perfect man," she said, turning the leaves of her book. the next morning she was admitted to an audience with that paragon of paragons, henry hamilton bones. he lived in the largest of the houssa huts at the far end of the lines, and had for attendants two native women, for whom bones had framed the most stringent and regimental of orders. the girl paused in the porch of the hut to read the typewritten regulations which were fastened by drawing-pins to a green baize board. they were bi-lingual, being in english and in coast arabic, in which dialect bones was something of a master. the girl wondered why they should be in english. "absolutely necessary, dear old lady friend," explained bones firmly. "you've no idea what a lot of anxiety i have had. your dear old brother--god bless him!--is a topping old sport, but with children you can't be too careful, and ham is awfully thoughtless. there, i've said it!" the english part of the regulations was brief, and she read it through. henry hamilton bones (care of). 1. visitors are requested to make as little noise as possible. how would you like to be awakened from refreshing sleep! be unselfish, and put yourself in his place. 2. it is absolutely forbidden to feed the child except with articles a list of which may be obtained on application. nuts and chocolates are strictly forbidden. 3. the undersigned will not be responsible for articles broken by the child, such as watches. if watches are used to amuse child, they should be held by child's ear, when an interested expression will be observed on child's face. on no account should child be allowed--knowing no better--to bite watch, owing to danger from glass, minute hand, etc. 4. in lifting child, grasp above waist under arms and raise slowly, taking care that head does not fall back. bring child close to holder's body, passing left arm under child and right arm over. child should not be encouraged to sit up--though quite able to, being very forward for eight months--owing to strain on back. on no account should child be thrown up in the air and caught. 5. any further information can be obtained at hut 7. (signed) augustus tibbetts, lieutenant. "all based upon my personal observation and experience," said bones triumphantly--"not a single tip from anybody." "i think you are really marvellous, bones," said the girl, and meant it. henry hamilton bones sat upright in a wooden cot. a fat-faced atom of brown humanity, bald-headed and big-eyed, he sucked his thumb and stared at the visitor, and from the visitor to bones. bones he regarded with an intelligent interest which dissolved into a fat chuckle of sheer delight. "isn't it--isn't it simply extraordinary?" demanded bones ecstatically. "in all your long an' painful experience, dear old friend an' co-worker, have you ever seen anything like it? when you remember that babies don't open their eyes until three weeks after they're born----" "da!" said henry hamilton bones. "da yourself, henry!" squawked his foster-father. "do da!" said henry. the smile vanished from bones's face, and he bit his lip thoughtfully. "do da!" he repeated. "let me see, what is 'do da'?" "do da!" roared henry. "dear old miss hamilton," he said gently, "i don't know whether henry wants a drink or whether he has a pain in his stomach, but i think that we had better leave him in more experienced hands." he nodded fiercely to the native woman nurse and made his exit. outside they heard henry's lusty yell, and bones put his hand to his ear and listened with a strained expression on his face. presently the tension passed. "it _was_ a drink," said bones. "excuse me whilst i make a note." he pulled out his pocket-book and wrote: "'do da' means 'child wants drink.'" he walked back to the residency with her, giving her a remarkable insight into henry's vocabulary. it appeared that babies have a language of their own, which bones boasted that he had almost mastered. she lay awake for a very long time that night, thinking of bones, his simplicity and his lovableness. she thought, too, of sanders, grave, aloof, and a little shy, and wondered.... she woke with a start, to hear the voice of bones outside the window. she felt sure that something had happened to henry. then she heard sanders and her brother speaking, and realized that it was not henry they were discussing. she looked at her watch--it was three o'clock. "i was foolish to trust that fellow," sanders was saying, "and i know that bosambo is not to blame, because he has always given a very wide berth to the kulumbini people, though they live on his border." she heard him speak in a strange tongue to some unknown fourth, and guessed that a spy of the government had come in during the night. "we'll get away as quickly as we can, bones," sanders said. "we can take our chance with the lower river in the dark; it will be daylight before we reach the bad shoals. you need not come, hamilton." "do you think bones will be able to do all you want?" hamilton's tone was dubious. "pull yourself together, dear old officer," said bones, raising his voice to an insubordinate pitch. she heard the men move from the verandah, and fell asleep again, wondering who was the man they spoke of and what mischief he had been brewing. * * * * * on a little tributary stream, which is hidden by the island of bats, was the village of kulumbini. high elephant grass hid the poor huts even from they who navigate a cautious way along the centre of the narrow stream. on the shelving beach one battered old canoe of ironwood, with its sides broken and rusted, the indolence of its proprietor made plain by the badly spliced panels, was all that told the stranger that the habitations of man were nigh. kulumbini was a term of reproach along the great river and amongst the people of the akasava, the isisi, and the n'gombi, no less than among that most tolerant of tribes the ochori. they were savage people, immensely brave, terrible in battle, but more terrible after. kulumbini, the village and city of the tribe, was no more than an outlier of a fairly important tribe which occupied forest land stretching back to the ochori boundary. their territory knew no frontier save the frontiers of caprice and desire. they had neither nationality nor national ambition, and would sell their spears for a bunch of fish, as the saying goes. their one consuming passion and one great wish was that they should not be overlooked, and, so long as the tribes respected this eccentricity, the kulumbini distressed no man. how this desire for isolation arose, none know. it is certain that once upon a time they possessed a king who so shared their views that he never came amongst them, but lived in a forest place which is called to this day s'furi-s'foosi, "the trees (or glade) of the distant king." they had demurred at government inspection, and sanders, coming up the little river on the first of his visits, was greeted by a shower of arrows, and his landing opposed by locked shields. there are many ways of disposing of opposition, not the least important of which is to be found in two big brass-barrelled guns which have their abiding place at each end of the _zaire's_ bridge. there is also a method known as peaceful suasion. sanders had compromised by going ashore for a peace palaver with a revolver in each hand. he had a whole fund of bomongo stories, most of which are unfit for printing, but which, nevertheless, find favour amongst the primitive humorists of the great river. by parable and story, by nonsense tale and romance, by drawing upon his imagination to supply himself with facts, by invoking ju-jus, ghosts, devils, and all the armoury of native superstition, he had, in those far-off times, prevailed upon the people of kulumbini not only to allow him a peaceful entrance to their country, but--wonder of wonders!--to contribute, when the moon and tide were in certain relative positions, which in english means once every six months, a certain tithe or tax, which might consist of rubber, ivory, fish, or manioc, according to the circumstances of the people. more than this, he stamped a solemn treaty--he wrote it in a tattered laundry-book which had come into the chief's possession by some mysterious means--and he hung about the neck of gulabala, the titular lord of these strange people, the medal and chain of chieftainship. not to be outdone in courtesy, the chief offered him the choice of all the maidens of kulumbini, and sanders, to whom such offers were by no means novel, had got out of a delicate situation in his usual manner, having resort to witchcraft for the purpose. for he said, with due solemnity and hushed breath, that it had been predicted by a celebrated witch-doctor of the lower river that the next wife he should take to himself would die of the sickness-mongo, and said sanders-"my heart is too tender for your people, o chief, to lead one of your beautiful daughters to death." "o sandi," replied gulabala hopefully, "i have many daughters, and i should not miss one. and would it not be good service for a woman of my house to die in your hut?" "we see things differently, you and i," said sanders, "for, according to my religion, if any woman dies from witchcraft, her ghost sits for ever at the foot of my bed, making terrifying faces." thus sanders had made his escape, and had received at odd intervals the tribute of these remote people. for years they had dwelt without interference, for they were an unlucky people to quarrel with, and, save for one or two trespasses on the part of gulabala, there was no complaint made concerning them. it is not natural, however, for native people to prosper, as these folks did, without there growing up a desire to kill somebody. for does not the river saying run: "the last measure of a full granary is a measure of blood"? in the dead of a night gulabala took three hundred spears across the frontier to the ochori village of netcka, and returned at dawned with the spears all streaky. and he brought back with him some twenty women, who would have sung the death-song of their men but for the fact that gulabala and his warriors beat them. gulabala slept all the day, he and his spears, and woke to a grisly vision of consequence. he called his people together and spoke in this wise-"soon sandi and his headmen will come, and, if we are here, there will be many folk hanged, for sandi is a cruel man. therefore let us go to a far place in the forest, carrying our treasure, and when sandi has forgiven us, we will come back." a good plan but for the sad fact that bosambo of the ochori was less than fifty miles away at the dawn of that fatal day, and was marching swiftly to avenge his losses, for not only had gulabala taken women, but he had taken sixty goats, and that was unpardonable. the scouts which gulabala had sent out came back with the news that the way to sanctuary was barred by bosambo. now, of all the men that the kulumbini hated, they hated none more than the chief of the ochori. for he alone never scrupled to overlook them, and to dare their anger by flogging such of them as raided his territory in search of game. "ko," said gulabala, deeply concerned, "this bosambo is sandi's dog. let us go back to our village and say we have been hunting, for bosambo will not cross into our lands for fear of sandi's anger." they reached the village, and were preparing to remove the last evidence of their crime--one goat looks very much like another, but women can speak--when sanders came striding down the village street, and gulabala, with his curved execution knife in his hand, stood up by the side of the woman he had slain. "o gulabala," said sanders softly, "this is an evil thing." the chief looked left and right helplessly. "lord," he said huskily, "bosambo and his people put me to shame, for they spied on me and overlooked me. and we are proud people, who must not be overlooked--thus it has been for all time." sanders pursed his lips and stared at the man. "i see here a fine high tree," he said, "so high that he who hangs from its top branch may say that no man overlooks him. there you shall hang, gulabala, for your proud men to see, before they also go to work for my king, with chains upon their legs as long as they live." "lord," said gulabala philosophically, "i have lived." ten minutes later he went the swift way which bad chiefs go, and his people were unresentful spectators. "this is the tenth time i have had to find a new chief in this belt," said sanders, pacing the deck of the _zaire_, "and who on earth i am to put in his place i do not know." the _lokalis_ of the kulumbini were already calling headmen to grand palaver. in the shade of the reed-thatched _lokali_ house, before the hollow length of tree-trunk, the player worked his flat drumsticks of ironwood with amazing rapidity. the call trilled and rumbled, rising and falling, now a patter of light musical sound, now a low grumble. bosambo came--by the river route--as sanders was leaving the _zaire_ to attend the momentous council. "how say you, bosambo--what man of the kulumbini folk will hold these people in check?" bosambo squatted at his lord's feet and set his spear a-spinning. "lord," he confessed, "i know of none, for they are a strange and hateful people. whatever king you set above them they will despise. also they worship no gods or ghosts, nor have they ju-ju or fetish. and, if a man does not believe, how may you believe him? lord, this i say to you--set me above the kulumbini, and i will change their hearts." but sanders shook his head. "that may not be, bosambo," he said. the palaver was a long and weary one. there were twelve good claimants for the vacant stool of office, and behind the twelve there were kinsmen and spears. from sunset to nigh on sunrise they debated the matter, and sanders sat patiently through it all, awake and alert. whether this might be said of bones is questionable. bones swears that he did not sleep, and spent the night, chin in hand, turning over the problem in his mind. it is certain he was awake when sanders gave his summing up. "people of this land," said sanders, "four fires have been burnt since we met, and i have listened to all your words. now, you know how good it is that there should be one you call chief. yet, if i take you, m'loomo"--he turned to one sullen claimant--"there will be war. and if i take b'songi, there will be killing. and i have come to this mind--that i will appoint a king over you who shall not dwell with you nor overlook you." two hundred pairs of eyes watched the commissioner's face. he saw the gleam of satisfaction which came at this concession to the traditional characteristic of the tribe, and went on, almost completely sure of his ground. "he shall dwell far away, and you, the twelve kinsmen of gulabala, shall reign in his place--one at every noon shall sit in the chief's chair and keep the land for your king, who shall dwell with me." one of the prospective regents rose. "lord, that is good talk, for so did sakalaba, the great king of our race, live apart from us at s'furi-s'foosi, and were we not prosperous in those days? now tell us what man you will set over us." for one moment sanders was nonplussed. he was rapidly reviewing the qualifications of all the little chiefs, the headmen, and the fisher leaders who sat under him, and none fulfilled his requirements. in that moment of silence an agitated voice whispered in his ear, and bones's lean hand clutched his sleeve. "sir an' excellency," breathed bones, all of a twitter, "don't think i'm takin' advantage of my position, but it's the chance i've been lookin' for, sir. you'd do me an awful favour--you see, sir, i've got his career to consider----" "what on earth----" began sanders. "henry hamilton bones, sir," said bones tremulously. "you'd set him up for life, sir. i must think of the child, hang it all! i know i'm a jolly old rotter to put my spoke in----" sanders gently released the frenzied grip of his lieutenant, and faced the wondering palaver. "know all people that this day i give to you as king one whom you shall call m'songuri, which means in your tongue 'the young and the wise,' and who is called in my tongue n'risu m'ilitani tibbetti, and this one is a child and well beloved by my lord tibbetti, being to him as a son, and by m'ilitani and by me, sandi." he raised his hand in challenge. "wa! whose men are you?" he cried. "m'songuri!" the answer came in a deep-throated growl, and the assembly leapt to its feet. "wa! who rules this land?" "m'songuri!" they locked arms and stamped first with the right foot and then with the left, in token of their acceptance. "take your king," said sanders, "and build him a beautiful hut, and his spirit shall dwell with you. this palaver is finished." bones was speechless all the way down river. at irregular intervals he would grip sanders's hand, but he was too full for speech. hamilton and his sister met the law-givers on the quay. "you're back sooner than i expected you, sir," said hamilton. "did bones behave?" "like a little gentleman," said sanders. "oh, bones," patricia broke in eagerly, "henry has cut another tooth." bones's nod was grave and even distant. "i will go and see his majesty," he said. "i presume he is in the palace?" hamilton stared after him. "surely," he asked irritably, "bones isn't sickening for measles again?" chapter viii the tamer of beasts native folk, at any rate, are but children of a larger growth. in the main, their delinquencies may be classified under the heading of "naughtiness." they are mischievous and passionate, and they have a weakness for destroying things to discover the secrets of volition. a too prosperous nation mystifies less fortunate people, who demand of their elders and rulers some solution of the mystery of their rivals' progress. such a ruler, unable to offer the necessary explanation, takes his spears to the discovery, and sometimes discovers too much for his happiness. the village of jumburu stands on the edge of the bush country, where the lawless men of all nations dwell. this territory is filled with fierce communities, banded together against a common enemy--the law. they call this land the b'wigini, which means "the nationless," and jumburu's importance lies in the fact that it is the outpost of order and discipline. in jumburu were two brothers, o'ka and b'suru, who had usurped the chieftainship of their uncle, the very famous k'sungasa, "very famous," since he had been in his time a man of remarkable gifts, which he still retained to some extent, and in consequence enjoyed what was left of life. he was, by all accounts, as mad as a man could be, and in circumstances less favourable to himself his concerned relatives would have taken him a long journey into the forest he loved so well, and they would have put out his eyes and left him to the mercy of the beasts, such being the method of dealing with lunacy amongst people who, all unknown to themselves, were eugenists of a most inflexible kind. but to leave k'sungasa to the beasts would have been equivalent to delivering him to the care of his dearest friends, for he had an affinity for the wild dwellers of the bush, and all his life he had lived amongst them and loved them. it is said that he could arrest the parrot in the air by a "cl'k!" and could bring the bird screeching and fluttering to his hand. he could call the shy little monkeys from the high branches where they hid, and even the fiercest of buffaloes would at his word come snuffling and nosing his brown arm. so that, when he grew weak-minded, his relatives, after a long palaver, decided that for once the time-honoured customs of the land should be overridden, and since there was no other method of treating the blind but that prescribed by precedent, he should be allowed to live in a great hut at the edge of the village with his birds and snakes and wild cats, and that the direction of village affairs should pass to his nephews. mr. commissioner sanders knew all this, but did nothing. his task was to govern the territory, which meant to so direct affairs that the territory governed itself. when the fate of k'sungasa was in the balance, he sent word to the chief's nephews that he was somewhere in the neighbourhood, and that the revival of the bad old custom of blinding would be followed by the introduction of the bad new custom of hanging; but this had less effect upon the council of relatives--to whom sanders's message was not transmitted--than the strange friendship which k'sungasa had for the forest folk. the nephews might have governed the village, exacted tribute, apportioned fishing rights, and administered justice for all time, but for the fact that there came a period of famine, when crops were bad and fish was scarce, and when, remarkably enough, the village of l'bini, distant no more than a few hours' paddling, had by a curious coincident raised record crops, and had, moreover, a glut of fish in their waters. there was the inevitable palaver and the inevitable solution. o'ka and b'suru led ten canoes to the offending village, slaughtered a few men and burnt a few huts. for two hours the combatants pranced and yelled and thrust at one another amidst a pandemonium of screaming women, and then lieutenant tibbetts dropped from the clouds with a most substantial platoon of houssas, and there was a general sorting out. sanders held a court on one of the middle islands near the residency, and b'suru was sent to the village of irons for the term of his natural life. o'ka, who had fled to the bush, escaped, however, and with him a headman and a few followers. lieutenant tibbetts, who had spent two profitable days in the village of jumburu, came back to the residency a very thoughtful young man. "what is the matter with bones?" asked captain hamilton. his sister smiled over her book, but offered no other comment. "do you know, pat?" demanded hamilton sternly. sanders looked at the girl with a twinkle in his grey eyes, and lit a cheroot. the relationships between patricia hamilton and bones were a source of constant joy to him. taciturn and a thought dour as he was, pat would never have suspected the bubbling laughter which arose behind that lean brown face, unmovable and, in his moments of most intense enjoyment, expressionless. "bones and i have a feud," said the girl. sanders smiled. "not as violent a feud as o'ka and i have, i hope?" he said. she frowned a little and looked at him anxiously. "but you don't worry about the threats of the people you have punished?" she asked. "i haven't punished o'ka," said sanders, "and an expedition into the bush would be too expensive an affair. he has apparently settled with the b'wigini people. if they take up his feud, they might give trouble. but what is your trouble with bones?" "you must ask him," she said. hamilton's opportunity came next day, when bones applied for leave. "leave?" said captain hamilton incredulously. "leave, bones? what the dickens do you want leave for?" bones, standing as stiff as a ramrod before the office table at which his superior sat, saluted. "urgent private affairs, sir," he said gruffly. "but you haven't any private affairs," protested hamilton. "your life is an open book--you were bragging about that fact yesterday." "sir and brother-officer," said bones firmly, "a crisis has arisen in my young life. my word, sir, has been called into doubt by your jolly old sister. i desire to vindicate my honour, my reputation, an' my veracity." "pat has been pulling your leg!" suggested hamilton, but bones shook his head. "nothin' so indelicate, sir. your revered an' lovely relative--god bless her jolly old heart!--expressed her doubt in _re_ leopards an' buffaloes. i'm goin' out, sir, into the wilds--amidst dangers, ham, old feller, that only seasoned veterans like you an' me can imagine--to bring proof that i am not only a sportsman, but a gentleman." the timely arrival of miss patricia hamilton, very beautiful in dazzling white, with her solar helmet perched at an angle, smote bones to silence. "what have you been saying to bones?" asked hamilton severely. "she said----" "i said----" they began and finished together. "bones, you're a tell-tale," accused the girl. "go on," said bones recklessly. "don't spare me. i'm a liar an' a thief an' a murderer--don't mind me!" "i simply said that i didn't believe he shot the leopard--the one whose skin is in his hut." "oh, no," said bones, with heavy sarcasm, "i didn't shoot it--oh, no! i froze it to death--i poisoned it!" "but did you shoot it?" she asked. "did i shoot it, dear old ham?" asked bones, with great calmness. "did you?" asked hamilton innocently. "did i shoot at that leopard," bones went on deliberately, "an' was he found next mornin' cold an' dead, with a smile on his naughty old face?" hamilton nodded, and bones faced the girl expectantly. "apologize, child," he said. "i shall do nothing of the kind," she replied, with some heat. "did bones shoot the leopard?" she appealed to her brother. hamilton looked from one to the other. "when the leopard was found----" he began. "listen to this, dear old sister," murmured bones. "when the leopard was found, with a spear in its side----" "evidently done after death by a wanderin' cad of a native," interposed bones hastily. "be quiet, bones," commanded the girl, and bones shrugged his shoulders and obeyed. "when the leopard was found," continued hamilton, "he was certainly beyond human aid, and though no bullet mark was discovered, bones conclusively proved----" "one moment, dear old officer," interrupted bones. he had seen out of the tail of his eye a majestic figure crossing the square. "will you allow me to produce scientific an' expert evidence?" hamilton assented gravely, and bones went to the door of the orderly room and roared a name. "i shall produce," he said quietly, but firmly, "the evidence of one who enjoyed the confidence of dear old professor what's-his-name, the eminent thigumy-ologist. oh, ali!" ali abid, a solemn figure, salaamed in the doorway. not for nothing had he been factotum to a great bacteriologist before the demise of his master had driven him to service with a lieutenant of houssas. his vocabulary smelt of the laboratory, his english was pure, undefiled, and unusual. "ali, you remember my leopard?" "sir," said ali, shaking his head, "who can forget?" "did i kill him, ali?" asked bones. "tell the lady everything." ali bowed to the girl. "miss or madame," he said, "the leopard (_felis pardus_), a wild beast of the felidã¦ family, is indigenous to forest territory. the subject in question--to wit, the skin thereof exhibited by sir bones--was particularly ferocious, and departed this life as a result of hunting conducted by aforesaid. examination of subject after demise under most scientific scrutiny revealed that said leopard (_felis pardus_) suffered from weak heart, and primary cause of death was diagnosed as shock occasioned by large 'bang' from sir bones's rifle." "what did i say?" asked bones complacently. "do you mean to tell me," gasped the girl, "that you _frightened_ the leopard to death?" bones spread out his hands disparagingly. "you have heard the evidence, dear old sister," he said; "there is nothing to add." she threw back her head and laughed until her grey eyes were swimming in tears. "oh, bones, you humbug!" she laughed. bones drew himself up more stiffly than ever, stuck his monocle in his eye, and turned to his chief. "do i understand, sir," he said, "that my leave is granted?" "seven days," said hamilton, and bones swung round on his heel, knocked over hamilton's stationery rack, stumbled over a chair, and strode gloomily from the hut. when patricia hamilton woke the next morning, she found a note pinned to her pillow. we may gloss over the impropriety of the proceedings which led to this phenomenon. bones was an artist, and so small a matter as the proprieties did not come into his calculations. patricia sat up in bed and read the letter. "dear old friend and doutting thos." (bones's spelling was always perfectly disgraceful),- "when this reaches you, when this reaches you, i shall be far, far away on my long and dangerus journey. i may not come back, i may not come back, for i and a faithful servant are about to penetrate to the lares of the wild beasts of the forest, of the forest. i am determined to wipe out the reproach which you have made. i will bring back, not a dead leppard, not a dead leppard, but a live one, which i shall seeze with my own hands. i may lose my life in this rash and hazardus enterprise, but at least i shall vindycate my honour.--farewell, dear old patrisia. "your friend, "b." "which proves," said hamilton, when he was shown the letter, "that bones is learning to spell. it only seems yesterday when he was spelling 'hamilton' with three m's. by the way, how did you get this letter?" "i found it pinned to the door," said patricia tactfully. bones went by the shortest route to jumburu, and was received without enthusiasm, for he had left a new chief to rule over a people who were near enough to the b'wigini to resent overmuch discipline. but his business was with k'sungasa, for the two days' stay which bones had made in the village, and all that he had learnt of the old tamer, had been responsible for his reckless promise to patricia hamilton. he came at a critical moment, for k'sungasa, a thin and knobbly old man, with dim eyes and an incessant chuckle, was very near his end. he lay on a fine raised bed, a big yellow-eyed wild cat at his feet, a monkey or two shivering by the bedside, and a sprawling litter of kittens--to which the wild cat leapt in a tremble of rage when bones entered the hut--crawling in the sunlight which flooded the hut. "lord tibbetti," croaked the old man, "i see you! this is a good time, for to-morrow i should be dead." "k'sungasa," said bones, seating himself gingerly, and looking about for the snake which was usually coiled round the old man's stool, "that is foolish talk, for you will see many floods." "that is fine talk for the river folk," grinned the old man, "but not for we people of the forest, who never see flood and only little-little rivers. now, i tell you, lord, that i am glad to die, because i have been full of mad thoughts for a long time, but now my mind is clear. tell me, master, why you come." bones explained his errand, and the old man's eyes brightened. "lord, if i could go with you to the forest, i would bring to you many beautiful leopards by my magic. now, because i love sandi, i will do this for you, so that you shall know how wise and cunning i am." in the woods about the village was a wild plant, the seeds of which, when pounded and boiled in an earthen vessel, produced, by a rough method of distillation, a most pungent liquid. abid spoke learnedly of _pimpinella anisum_, and probably he was right.[4] [footnote 4: both anise and star anise (_illicium anisatum_) are to be found in the territories, as also is a small plant which has all the properties (and more) of _pimpinella anisum_. this was probably the plant.--author.] bones and his assistant made many excursions into the woods before they found and brought back the right plant. fortunately it was seed-time, and once he was on the right track bones had no difficulty in securing more than a sufficient quantity for his purpose. he made his distillation under the old man's directions, the fire burning in the middle of the hut. as the drops began to fall from the narrow neck of his retort, a fault sweet aroma filled the hut. first the cat, then the monkeys began to show signs of extraordinary agitation. cat and kittens crouched as near the fire as they could, their heads craned towards the brown vessel, mewing and whimpering. then the monkeys came, bright-eyed and eager. the scent brought the most unexpected beasts from every hole and crevice in the hut--brown rats, squirrels, a long black snake with spade-shaped head and diamond markings, little bush hares, a young buck, which came crashing through the forest and prinked timidly to the door of the hut. the old man on the bed called them all by name, and snapped his feeble fingers to them; but their eyes were on the retort and the crystal drops that trembled and fell from the lip of the narrow spout. * * * * * a week later a speechless group stood before the residency and focussed their astonished gaze upon the miracle. "the miracle" was a half-grown leopard cub, vividly marked. he was muzzled and held in leash by a chain affixed to a stout collar, and bones, a picture of smug gratification, held the end of the chain. "but how--how did you catch him?" gasped the girl. bones shrugged his shoulders. "it is not for me, dear old friend, to tell of nights spent in the howlin' forest," he quavered, in the squeaky tone which invariably came to him when he was excited. "i'm not goin' to speak of myself. if you expect me to tell you how i trailed the jolly old leopard to his grisly lair an' fought with him single-handed, you'll be disappointed." "but did you track him to his lair?" demanded hamilton, recovering his speech. "i beg of you, dear old officer, to discuss other matters," evaded bones tactfully. "here are the goods delivered, as per mine of the twenty-fourth instant." he put his hand to his pocket mechanically, and the cub looked up with a quick eager stare. "bones, you're a wonderful fellow," said sanders quietly. bones bowed. "and now," he said, "if you'll excuse me, i'll take my little friend to his new home." before they realized what he was doing, he had slipped off the chain. even sanders stepped back and dropped his hand to the automatic pistol he carried in his hip pocket. but bones, unconcerned, whistled and marched off to his hut, and the great cat followed humbly at his heels. that same night bones strode across from his hut to the residency, resolved upon a greater adventure yet. he would go out under the admiring eyes of patricia hamilton, and would return from the residency woods a veritable pied piper, followed by a trail of forest denizens. in his pocket was a quart bottle, and his clothes reeked with the scent of wild aniseed. as a matter of fact, his secret would have been out the moment he entered sanders's dining-room, but it so happened that his programme was doomed to interruption. he was half-way across the square when a dark figure rose from the ground and a harsh voice grunted "kill!" he saw the flash of the spear in the starlight and leapt aside. a hand clutched at his jacket, but he wrenched himself free, leaving the garment in his assailant's hands. he was unarmed, and there was nothing left but flight. sanders heard his yell, and sprang out to the darkness of the verandah as bones flew up the steps. he saw the two men racing in pursuit, and fired twice. one man fell, the other swerved and was lost in the shadows. an answering shot came from the houssa sentry at the far end of the square. sanders saw a man running, and fired again, and again missed. then out of the darkness blundered ali abid, his face grey with fear. "sir," he gasped, "wild animal (_felis pardus_) has divested muzzlement and proper restraint, and is chasing various subjects outrageously." even as he spoke a fourth figure sped across the ground before the residency, so close that they could see the bundle he carried under his arm. "my jacket!" roared bones. "hi, stop him! good lord!" swift on the heels of the flying man came a streak of yellow fur.... whether o'ka of the jumburu outpaced the leopard, or the leopard overtook o'ka, is not known, but until the rains came and washed away the scent of crude aniseed, bones dared not leave his hut by night for fear of the strange beasts that came snuffling at his hut, or sat in expectant and watchful circles about his dwelling, howling dismally. chapter ix the mercenaries there was a large brown desk in sanders's study, a desk the edges of which had been worn yellow with constant rubbing. it was a very tidy desk, with two rows of books neatly grouped on the left and on the right, and held in place by brass rails. there were three tiers of wire baskets, a great white blotting-pad, a silver inkstand and four clean-looking pens. lately, there had appeared a glass vase filled with flowers which were daily renewed. except on certain solemn occasions, none intruded into this holy of holies. it is true that a change had been brought about by the arrival of patricia hamilton, for she had been accorded permission to use the study as she wished, and she it was who had introduced the floral decorations. yet, such was the tradition of sanctuary which enveloped the study, that neither captain hamilton, her brother, nor bones, her slave, had ever ventured to intrude thither in search of her, and if by chance they came to the door to speak to her, they unaccountably lowered their voices. on a certain summer morning, hamilton sat at the desk, a stern and sober figure, and bones, perspiring and rattled, sat on the edge of a chair facing him. the occasion was a solemn one, for bones was undergoing his examination in subjects "x" and "y" for promotion to the rank of captain. the particular subject under discussion was "map reading and field sketching," and the inquisition was an oral one. "lieutenant tibbetts," said hamilton gravely, "you will please define a base line." bones pushed back the hair straggling over his forehead, and blinked rapidly in an effort of memory. "a base line, dear old officer?" he repeated. "a base line, dear old ham----" "restrain your endearing terms," said hamilton, "you won't get any extra marks for 'em." "a base line?" mused bones; then, "whoop! i've got it! god bless your jolly old soul! i thought i'd foozled it. a base line," he said loudly, "is the difference of level between two adjacent contours. how's that, umpire?" "wrong," said hamilton; "you're describing a vertical interval." bones glared at him. "are you sure, dear old chap?" he demanded truculently. "have a look at the book, jolly old friend, your poor old eyes ain't what they used to be----" "lieutenant tibbetts," said hamilton in ponderous reproof, "you are behaving very strangely." "look here, dear old ham," wheedled bones "can't you pretend you asked me what a vertical interval was?" hamilton reached round to find something to throw, but this was sanders's study. "you have a criminal mind, bones," he said helplessly. "now get on with it. what are 'hachures'?" "hachures?" said bones, shutting his eye. "hachures? now i know what hachures are. a lot of people would think they were chickens, but i know ... they're a sort of line ... when you're drawing a hill ... wiggly-waggly lines ... you know the funny things ... a sort of...." bones made mysterious and erratic gestures in the air, "shading ... water, dear old friend." "are you feeling faint?" asked hamilton, jumping up in alarm. "no, silly ass ... shadings ... direction of water--am i right, sir?" "not being a thought-reader i can't visualize your disordered mind," said hamilton, "but hachures are the conventional method of representing hill features by shading in short vertical lines to indicate the slope and the water flow. i gather that you have a hazy idea of what the answer should be." "i thank you, dear old sir, for that generous tribute to my grasp of military science," said bones. "an' now proceed to the next torture--which will you have, sir, rack or thumbscrew?--oh, thank you, horace, i'll have a glass of boiling oil." "shut up talking to yourself," growled hamilton, "and tell me what is meant by 'orienting a map'?" "turning it to the east," said bones promptly. "next, sir." "what is meant by 'orienting a map'?" asked hamilton patiently. "i've told you once," said bones defiantly. "orienting a map," said hamilton, "as i have explained to you a thousand times, means setting your map or plane-table so that the north line lies north." "in that case, sir," said bones firmly, "the east line would be east, and i claim to have answered the question to your entire satisfaction." "continue to claim," snarled hamilton. "i shall mark you zero for that answer." "make it one," pleaded bones. "be a sport, dear old ham--i've found a new fishin' pool." hamilton hesitated. "there never are any fish in the pools you find," he said dubiously. "anyway, i'll reserve my decision until i've made a cast or two." they adjourned for tiffin soon after. "how did you do, bones?" asked patricia hamilton. "fine," said bones enthusiastically; "i simply bowled over every question that your dear old brother asked. in fact, ham admitted that i knew much more about some things than he did." "what i said," corrected hamilton, "was that your information on certain subjects was so novel that i doubted whether even the staff college shared it." "it's the same thing," said bones. "you should try him on military history," suggested sanders dryly. "i've just been hearing from bosambo----" bones coughed and blushed. "the fact is, sir an' excellency," he confessed, "i was practisin' on bosambo. you mightn't be aware of the fact, but i like to hear myself speak----" "no!" gasped hamilton in amazement, "you're wronging yourself, bones!" "what i mean, sir," bones went on with dignity, "is that if i lecture somebody on a subject i remember what i've said." "always providing that you understand what you're saying," suggested hamilton. "anyway," said sanders, with his quiet smile, "bones has filled bosambo with a passionate desire to emulate napoleon, and bosambo has been making tentative inquiries as to whether he can raise an old guard or enlist a mercenary army." "i flatter myself----" began bones. "why not?" said hamilton, rising. "it's the only chance you'll have of hearing something complimentary about yourself." "_i_ believe in you, bones," said a smiling patricia. "i think you're really wonderful, and that ham is a brute." "i'll never, never contradict you, dear miss patricia," said bones; "an' after the jolly old commissioner has gone----" "you're not going away again, are you?" she asked, turning to sanders. "why, you have only just come back from the interior." there was genuine disappointment in her eyes, and sanders experienced a strange thrill the like of which he had never known before. "yes," he said with a nod. "there is a palaver of sorts in the morjaba country--the most curious palaver i have ever been called upon to hold." and indeed he spoke the truth. beyond the frontiers of the akasava, and separated from all the other territories by a curious bush belt which ran almost in a straight line for seventy miles, were the people of morjaba. they were a folk isolated from territorial life, and sanders saw them once every year and no more frequently, for they were difficult to come by, regular payers of taxes and law-abiding, having quarrels with none. the bush (reputedly the abode of ghosts) was, save at one point, impenetrable. nature had plaited a natural wall on one side, and had given the tribe the protection of high mountains to the north and a broad swamp to the west. the fierce storms of passion and hate which burst upon the river at intervals and sent thousands of spears to a blooding, were scarcely echoed in this sanctuary-land. the marauders of the great king's country to the north never fetched across the smooth moraine of the mountains, and the evil people of the-land-beyond-the-swamp were held back by the treacherous bogland wherein, _cala-cala_, a whole army had been swallowed up. thus protected, the morjabian folk grew fat and rich. the land was a veritable treasure of nature, and it is a fact that in the dialect they speak, there is no word which means "hunger."[5] [footnote 5: it is as curious a fact that amongst the majority of cannibal people there is no equivalent for "thank you."--e. w.] yet the people of the morjaba were not without their crises. s'kobi, the stout chief, held a great court which was attended by ten thousand people, for at that court was to be concluded for ever the feud between the m'gimi and the m'joro--a feud which went back for the greater part of fifty years. the m'gimi were the traditional warrior tribe, the bearers of arms, and, as their name ("the high lookers") implied, the proudest and most exclusive of the people. for every man was the descendant of a chief, and it was "easier for fish to walk," as the saying goes, than for a man of the m'joro ("the diggers") to secure admission to the caste. three lateral cuts on either cheek was the mark of the m'gimi--wounds made, upon the warrior's initiation to the order, with the razor-edged blade of a killing-spear. they lived apart in three camps to the number of six thousand men, and for five years from the hour of their initiation they neither married nor courted. the m'gimi turned their backs to women, and did not suffer their presence in their camps. and if any man departed from this austere rule he was taken to the breaking tree, his four limbs were fractured, and he was hoisted to the lower branches, between which a litter was swung, and his regiment sat beneath the tree neither eating, drinking nor sleeping until he died. sometimes this was a matter of days. as for the woman who had tempted his eye and his tongue, she was a witness. thus the m'gimi preserved their traditions of austerity. they were famous walkers and jumpers. they threw heavy spears and fought great sham-fights, and they did every violent exercise save till the ground. this was the sum and substance of the complaint which had at last come to a head. s'gono, the spokesman of the diggers, was a headman of the inner lands, and spoke with bitter prejudice, since his own son had been rejected by the m'gimi captains as being unworthy. "shall we men dig and sow for such as these?" he asked. "now give a judgment, king! every moon we must take the best of our fruit and the finest of our fish. also so many goats and so much salt, and it is swallowed up." "yet if i send them away," said the king, "how shall i protect this land against the warriors of the akasava and the evil men of the swamp? also of the ochori, who are four days' march across good ground?" "lord king," said s'gono, "are there no m'gimi amongst us who have passed from the camp and have their women and their children? may not these take the spear again? and are not we m'joro folk men? by my life! i will raise as many spears from the diggers and captain them with m'joro men--this i could do between the moons and none would say that you were not protected. for we are men as bold as they." the king saw that the m'gimi party was in the minority. moreover, he had little sympathy with the warrior caste, for his beginnings were basely rooted in the soil, and two of his sons had no more than scraped into the m'gimi. "this thing shall be done," said the king, and the roar of approval which swept up the little hillock on which he sat was his reward. sanders, learning something of these doings, had come in haste, moving across the lower akasava by a short cut, risking the chagrin of certain chiefs and friends who would be shocked and mortified by his apparent lack of courtesy in missing the ceremonious call which was their due. but his business was very urgent, otherwise he would not have travelled by nobolama--the-river-that-comes-and-goes. he was fortunate in that he found deep water for the _wiggle_ as far as the edge of this pleasant land. a two days' trek through the forest brought him to the great city of morjaba. in all the territories there was no such city as this, for it stretched for miles on either hand, and indeed was one of the most densely populated towns within a radius of five hundred miles. s'kobi came waddling to meet his governor with maize, plucked in haste from the gardens he passed, and salt, grabbed at the first news of sanders's arrival, in his big hands. these he extended as he puffed to where sanders sat at the edge of the city. "lord," he wheezed, "none came with news of this great honour, or my young men would have met you, and my maidens would have danced the road flat with their feet. take!" sanders extended both palms and received the tribute of salt and corn, and solemnly handed the crushed mess to his orderly. "o s'kobi," he said, "i came swiftly to make a secret palaver with you, and my time is short." "lord, i am your man," said s'kobi, and signalled his councillors and elder men to a distance. sanders was in some difficulty to find a beginning. "you know, s'kobi, that i love your people as my children," he said, "for they are good folk who are faithful to government and do ill to none." "wa!" said s'kobi. "also you know that spearmen and warriors i do not love, for spears are war and warriors are great lovers of fighting." "lord, you speak the truth," said the other, nodding, "therefore in this land i will have made a law that there shall be no spears, save those which sleep in the shadow of my hut. now well i know why you have come to make this palaver, for you have heard with your beautiful long ears that i have sent away my fighting regiments." sanders nodded. "you speak truly, my friend," he said, and s'kobi beamed. "six times a thousand spears i had--and, lord, spears grow no corn. rather are they terrible eaters. and now i have sent them to their villages, and at the next moon they should have burnt their fine war-knives, but for a certain happening. we folk of morjaba have no enemies, and we do good to all. moreover, lord, as you know, we have amongst us many folk of the isisi, of the akasava and the n'gombi, also men from the great king's land beyond the high rocks, and the little folk from the-land-beyond-the-swamp. therefore, who shall attack us since we have kinsmen of all amongst us?" sanders regarded the jovial king with a sad little smile. "have i done well by all men?" he asked quietly. "have i not governed the land so that punishment comes swiftly to those who break the law? yet, s'kobi, do not the akasava and the isisi, the n'gombi and the lower river folk take their spears against me? now i tell you this which i have discovered. in all beasts great and little there are mothers who have young ones and fathers who fight that none shall harass the mother." "lord, this is the way of life," said s'kobi. "it is the way of the bigger life," said sanders, "and greatly the way of man-life. for the women bring children to the land and the men sit with their spears ready to fight all who would injure their women. and so long as life lasts, s'kobi, the women will bear and the men will guard; it is the way of nature, and you shall not take from men the desire for slaughter until you have dried from the hearts of women the yearning for children." "lord," said s'kobi, a fat man and easily puzzled, "what shall be the answer to this strange riddle you set me?" "only this," said sanders rising, "i wish peace in this land, but there can be no peace between the leopard who has teeth and claws and the rabbit who has neither tooth nor claw. does the leopard fight the lion or the lion the leopard? they live in peace, for each is terrible in his way, and each fears the other. i tell you this, that you live in love with your neighbours not because of your kindness, but because of your spears. call them back to your city, s'kobi." the chief's large face wrinkled in a frown. "lord," he said, "that cannot be, for these men have marched away from my country to find a people who will feed them, for they are too proud to dig the ground." "oh, damn!" said sanders in despair, and went back the way he came, feeling singularly helpless. the odyssey of the discarded army of the morjaba has yet to be written. paradoxically enough, its primary mission was a peaceful one, and when it found first the frontiers of the akasava and then the river borders of the isisi closed against it, it turned to the north in an endeavour to find service under the great king, beyond the mountains. here it was repulsed and its pacific intentions doubted. the m'gimi formed a camp a day's march from the ochori border, and were on the thin line which separates unemployment from anarchy when bosambo, chief of the ochori, who had learnt of their presence, came upon the scene. bosambo was a born politician. he had the sense of opportunity and that strange haze of hopeful but indefinite purpose which is the foundation of the successful poet and statesman, but which, when unsuccessfully developed, is described as "temperament." bones, paying a business call upon the ochori, found a new township grown up on the forest side of the city. he also discovered evidence of discontent in bosambo's harassed people, who had been called upon to provide fish and meal for the greater part of six thousand men who were too proud to work. "master," said bosambo, "i have often desired such an army as this, for my ochori fighters are few. now, lord, with these men i can hold the upper river for your king, and sandi and none dare speak against him. thus would n'poloyani, who is your good friend, have done." "but who shall feed these men, bosambo?" demanded bones hastily. "all things are with god," replied bosambo piously. bones collected all the available information upon the matter and took it back to headquarters. "h'm," said sanders when he had concluded his recital, "if it were any other man but bosambo ... you would require another battalion, hamilton." "but what has bosambo done?" asked patricia hamilton, admitted to the council. "he is being napoleonic," said sanders, with a glance at the youthful authority on military history, and bones squirmed and made strange noises. "we will see how it works out. how on earth is he going to feed them, bones?" "exactly the question i asked, sir an' excellency," said bones in triumph. "'why, you silly old ass----'" "i beg your pardon!" exclaimed the startled sanders. "that is what i said to bosambo, sir," explained bones hastily. "'why, you silly old ass,' i said, 'how are you going to grub 'em?' 'lord bones,' said bosambo, 'that's the jolly old problem that i'm workin' out.'" how bosambo worked out his problem may be gathered. "there is some talk of an akasava rising," said sanders at breakfast one morning. "i don't know why this should be, for my information is that the akasava folk are fairly placid." "where does the news come from, sir?" asked hamilton. "from the isisi king--he's in a devil of a funk, and has begged bosambo to send him help." that help was forthcoming in the shape of bosambo's new army, which arrived on the outskirts of the isisi city and sat in idleness for a month, at the end of which time the people of the isisi represented to their king that they would, on the whole, prefer war to a peace which put them on half rations in order that six thousand proud warriors might live on the fat of the land. the m'gimi warriors marched back to the ochori, each man carrying a month's supply of maize and salt, wrung from the resentful peasants of the isisi. three weeks after, bosambo sent an envoy to the king of the akasava. "let no man know this, gubara, lest it come to the ears of sandi, and you, who are very innocent, be wrongly blamed," said the envoy solemnly. "thus says bosambo: it has come to my ears that the n'gombi are secretly arming and will very soon send a forest of spears against the akasava. say this to gubara, that because my stomach is filled with sorrow i will help him. because i am very powerful, because of my friendship with bonesi and his cousin, n'poloyani, who is also married to bonesi's aunt, i have a great army which i will send to the akasava, and when the n'gombi hear of this they will send away their spears and there will be peace." the akasava chief, a nervous man with the memory of all the discomforts which follow tribal wars, eagerly assented. for two months bosambo's army sat down like a cloud of locusts and ate the akasava to a condition bordering upon famine. at the end of that time they marched to the n'gombi country, news having been brought by bosambo's messengers that the great king was crossing the western mountains with a terrible army to seize the n'gombi forests. how long this novel method of provisioning his army might have continued may only be guessed, for in the midst of bosambo's plans for maintaining an army at the expense of his neighbours there was a great happening in the morjaba country. s'kobi, the fat chief, had watched the departure of his warriors with something like relief. he was gratified, moreover (native-like), by the fact that he had confounded sanders. but when the commissioner had gone and s'kobi remembered all that he had said, a great doubt settled like a pall upon his mind. for three days he sat, a dejected figure, on the high carved stool of state before his house, and at the end of that time he summoned s'gono, the m'joro. "s'gono," said he, "i am troubled in my stomach because of certain things which our lord sandi has said." thereupon he told the plebeian councillor much of what sanders had said. "and now my m'gimi are with bosambo of the ochori, and he sells them to this people and that for so much treasure and food." "lord," said s'gono, "is my word nothing? did i not say that i would raise spears more wonderful than the m'gimi? give me leave, king, and you shall find an army that shall grow in a night. i, s'gono, son of mocharlabili yoka, say this!" so messengers went forth to all the villages of the morjaba calling the young men to the king's hut, and on the third week there stood on a plateau beneath the king's palaver house a most wonderful host. "let them march across the plain and make the dance of killing," said the satisfied king, and s'gono hesitated. "lord king," he pleaded, "these are new soldiers, and they are not yet wise in the ways of warriors. also they will not take the chiefs i gave them, but have chosen their own, so that each company have two leaders who say evil things of one another." s'kobi opened his round eyes. "the m'gimi did not do this," he said dubiously, "for when their captains spoke they leapt first with one leg and then with the other, which was beautiful to see and very terrifying to our enemies." "lord," begged the agitated s'gono, "give me the space of a moon and they shall leap with both legs and dance in a most curious manner." a spy retailed this promise to a certain giant chief of the great king who was sitting on the morjaba slopes of the mountains with four thousand spears, awaiting a favourable moment to ford the river which separated him from the rich lands of the northern morjaba. this giant heard the tidings with interest. "soon they shall leap without heads," he said, "for without the m'gimi they are little children. for twenty seasons we have waited, and now comes our fine night. go you, b'furo, to the chief of the-folk-beyond-the-swamp and tell him that when he sees three fires on this mountain he shall attack across the swamp by the road which he knows." it was a well-planned campaign which the great king's generals and the chief of the-people-beyond-the-marsh had organized. with the passing of the warrior caste the enemies of the morjaba had moved swiftly. the path across the swamp had been known for years, but the m'gimi had had one of their camps so situated that no enemy could debouch across, and had so ordered their dispositions that the northern river boundary was automatically safeguarded. now s'gono was a man of the fields, a grower and seller of maize and a breeder of goats. and he had planned his new army as he would plan a new garden, on the basis that the nearer the army was to the capital, the easier it was to maintain. in consequence the river-ford was unguarded, and there were two thousand spears across the marshes before a scared minister of war apprehended any danger. he flung his new troops against the great king's chief captain in a desperate attempt to hold back the principal invader. at the same time, more by luck than good generalship, he pushed the evil people of the marsh back to their native element. for two days the morjaba fought desperately if unskilfully against the seasoned troops of the great king, while messengers hurried east and south, seeking help. bosambo's intelligence department may have shown remarkable prescience in unearthing the plot against the peace and security of the morjaba, or it may have been (and this is sanders's theory) that bosambo was on his way to the morjaba with a cock and bull story of imminent danger. he was on the frontier when the king's messenger came, and bosambo returned with the courier to treat in person. "five thousand loads of corn i will give you, bosambo," said the king, "also a hundred bags of salt. also two hundred women who shall be slaves in your house." there was some bargaining, for bosambo had no need of slaves, but urgently wanted goats. in the end he brought up his hirelings, and the people of the morjaba city literally fell on the necks of the returned m'gimi. the enemy had forced the northern defences and were half-way to the city when the m'gimi fell upon their flank. the giant chief of the great king's army saw the ordered ranks of the old army driving in his flank, and sent for his own captain. "go swiftly to our lord, the king, and say that i am a dead man." he spoke no more than the truth, for he fell at the hand of bosambo, who made a mental resolve to increase his demand on the herds of s'kobi in consequence. for the greater part of a month bosambo was a welcome visitor, and at the end of that time he made his preparations to depart. carriers and herdsmen drove or portered his reward back to the ochori country, marching one day ahead of the main body. the m'gimi were summoned for the march at dawn, but at dawn bosambo found himself alone on the plateau, save for the few ochori headmen who had accompanied him on his journey. "lord," said s'kobi, "my fine soldiers do not go with you, for i have seen how wise is sandi who is my father and my mother." bosambo choked, and as was usual in moments of intense emotion, found refuge in english. "dam' nigger!" he said wrathfully, "i bring um army, i feed um, i keep um proper--you pinch um! black t'ief! pig! you bad feller! i speak you bad for n'poloyani--him fine feller." "lord," said the uncomprehending king, "i see that you are like sandi for you speak his tongue. he also said 'dam' very loudly. i think it is the word white folk say when they are happy." bosambo met bones hurrying to the scene of the fighting, and told his tale. "lord," said he in conclusion, "what was i to do, for you told nothing of the ways of n'poloyani when his army was stolen from him. tell me now, tibbetti, what this man would have done." but bones shook his head severely. "this i cannot tell you, bosambo," he said, "for if i do you will tell others, and my lord n'poloyani will never forgive me." chapter x the waters of madness unexpected things happen in the territories which mr. commissioner sanders rules. as for example: bones had gone down to the beach to "take the mail." this usually meant no more than receiving a mail-bag wildly flung from a dancing surf-boat. on this occasion bones was surprised to discover that the boat had beached and had landed, not only the mail, but a stranger with his baggage. he was a clean-shaven, plump man, in spotless white, and he greeted bones with a friendly nod. "morning!" he said. "i've got your mail." bones extended his hand and took the bag without evidence of any particular enthusiasm. "sanders about?" asked the stranger. "mr. sanders is in residence, sir," said bones, ponderously polite. the other laughed. "show the way," he said briskly. bones looked at the new-comer from the ventilator of his pith helmet to the soles of his pipe-clayed shoes. "excuse me, dear old sir," he said, "have i the honour of addressin' the secretary of state for war?" "no," answered the other in surprise. "what made you think that?" "because," said bones, with rising wrath, "he's the only fellow that needn't say 'please' to me." the man roared with laughter. "sorry," he said. "_please_ show me the way." "follow me, sir," said bones. sanders was not "in residence," being, in fact, inspecting some recent--and native--repairs to the boilers of the _zaire_. the stranger drew up a chair on the stoep without invitation and seated himself. he looked around. patricia hamilton was at the far end of the stoep, reading a book. she had glanced up just long enough to note and wonder at the new arrival. "deuced pretty girl that," said the stranger, lighting a cigar. "i beg your pardon?" said bones. "i say that is a deuced pretty girl," said the stranger. "and you're a deuced brute, dear sir," said bones, "but hitherto i have not commented on the fact." the man looked up quickly. "what are you here," he asked--"a clerk or something?" bones did not so much as flush. "oh, no," he said sweetly. "i am an officer of houssas--rank, lieutenant. my task is to tame the uncivilized beast an' entertain the civilized pig with a selection of music. would you like to hear our gramophone?" the new-comer frowned. what brilliant effort of persiflage was to follow will never be known, for at that moment came sanders. the stranger rose and produced a pocket-book, from which he extracted a card and a letter. "good morning, commissioner!" he said. "my name's corklan--p. t. corklan, of corklan, besset and lyons." "indeed," said sanders. "i've got a letter for you," said the man. sanders took the note, opened it, and read. it bore the neat signature of an under-secretary of state and the embossed heading of the extra-territorial office, and it commended mr. p. t. corklan to mr. commissioner sanders, and requested him to let mr. corklan pass without let or hindrance through the territories, and to render him every assistance "compatible with exigencies of the service" in his "inquiries into sugar production from the sweet potato." "you should have taken this to the administrator," said sanders, "and it should bear his signature." "there's the letter," said the man shortly. "if that's not enough, and the signature of the secretary of state isn't sufficient, i'm going straight back to england and tell him so." "you may go to the devil and tell him so," said sanders calmly; "but you do not pass into these territories until i have received telegraphic authority from my chief. bones, take this man to your hut, and let your people do what they can for him." and he turned and walked into the house. "you shall hear about this," said mr. corklan, picking up his baggage. "this way, dear old pilgrim," said bones. "who's going to carry my bag?" "your name escapes me," said bones, "but, if you'll glance at your visitin' card, you will find the name of the porter legibly inscribed." sanders compressed the circumstances into a hundred-word telegram worded in his own economical style. it happened that the administrator was away on a shooting trip, and it was his cautious secretary who replied-"administration to sanders.--duplicate authority here. let corklan proceed at own risk. warn him dangers." "you had better go along and tell him," said sanders. "he can leave at once, and the sooner the better." bones delivered the message. the man was sitting on his host's bed, and the floor was covered with cigar ash. worst abomination of all, was a large bottle of whisky, which he had produced from one of his bags, and a reeking glass, which he had produced from bones's sideboard. "so i can go to-night, can i?" said mr. corklan. "that's all right. now, what about conveyance, hey?" bones had now reached the stage where he had ceased to be annoyed, and when he found some interest in the situation. "what sort of conveyance would you like, sir?" he asked curiously. (if you can imagine him pausing half a bar before every "sir," you may value its emphasis.) "isn't there a steamer i can have?" demanded the man. "hasn't sanders got a government steamer?" "pardon my swooning," said bones, sinking into a chair. "well, how am i going to get up?" asked the man. "are you a good swimmer?" demanded bones innocently. "look here," said mr. corklan, "you aren't a bad fellow. i rather like you." "i'm sorry," said bones simply. "i rather like you," repeated mr. corklan. "you might give me a little help." "it is very unlikely that i shall," said bones. "but produce your proposition, dear old adventurer." "that is just what i am," said the other. he bit off the end of another cigar and lit it with the glowing butt of the old one. "i have knocked about all over the world, and i have done everything. i've now a chance of making a fortune. there is a tribe here called the n'gombi. they live in a wonderful rubber country, and i am told that they have got all the ivory in the world, and stacks of rubber hidden away." now, it is a fact--and bones was surprised to hear it related by the stranger--that the n'gombi are great misers and hoarders of elephant tusks. for hundreds of years they have traded ivory and rubber, and every village has its secret storehouse. the government had tried for years to wheedle the n'gombi into depositing their wealth in some state store, for riches mean war sooner or later. they lived in great forests--the word n'gombi means "interior"--in lands full of elephants and rich in rubber trees. "you are a regular information bureau," said bones admiringly. "but what has this to do with your inquiry into the origin of the candy tree?" the man smoked in silence for awhile, then he pulled from his pocket a big map. again bones was surprised, because the map he produced was the official map of the territories. he traced the river with his fat forefinger. "here is the n'gombi country from the east bank of the isisi, and this is all forest, and a rubber tree to every ten square yards." "i haven't counted them," said bones, "but i'll take your word." "now, what does this mean?" mr. corklan indicated a twisting line of dots and dashes which began at the junction of the isisi river and the great river, and wound tortuously over five hundred miles of country until it struck the sigi river, which runs through spanish territory. "what is that?" he asked. "that, or those," said bones, "are the footprints of the mighty swoozlum bird that barks with its eyes an' lives on buttered toast an' hardware." "i will tell you what i know it is," said the man, looking up and looking bones straight in the eye--"it is one of those secret rivers you are always finding in these 'wet' countries. the natives tell you about 'em, but you never find 'em. they are rivers that only exist about once in a blue moon, when the river is very high and the rains are very heavy. now, down in the spanish territory"--he touched bones's knee with great emphasis--"they tell me that their end of the secret river is in flood." "they will tell you anything in the spanish territory," said bones pleasantly. "they'd tell you your jolly old fortune if you'd cross their palms with silver." "what about your end?" asked the man, ignoring the scepticism of his host. "our end?" said bones. "well, you will find out for yourself. i'd hate to disappoint you." "now, how am i going up?" asked the man after a pause. "you can hire a canoe, and live on the land, unless you have brought stores." the man chuckled. "i've brought no stores. here, i will show you something," he said. "you are a very good fellow." he opened his bag and took out a tight packet which looked like thin skins. there must have been two or three hundred of them. "that's my speciality," he said. he nipped the string that tied them together, stripped one off, and, putting his lips to one end, blew. the skin swelled up like a toy balloon. "do you know what that is?" "no, i cannot say i do," said bones. "you have heard of soemmering's process?" bones shook his head. "do you know what decimal 1986 signifies?" "you've got me guessing, my lad," said bones admiringly. the other chuckled, threw the skins into his bag, and closed it with a snap. "that's my little joke," he said. "all my friends tell me it will be the death of me one of these days. i like to puzzle people"--he smiled amiably and triumphantly in bones's face--"i like to tell them the truth in such a way they don't understand it. if they understood it--heavens, there'd be the devil to pay!" "you are an ingenious fellow," said bones, "but i don't like your face. you will forgive my frankness, dear old friend." "faces aren't fortunes," said the other complacently, "and i am going out of this country with money sticking to me." "i'm sorry for you," said bones, shaking his head; "i hate to see fellows with illusions." he reported all that occurred to the commissioner, and sanders was a little worried. "i wish i knew what his game is," he said; "i'd stop him like a shot, but i can't very well in the face of the administrator's wire. anyway, he will get nothing out of the n'gombi. i've tried every method to make the beggars bank their surpluses, and i have failed." "he has got to come back this way, at any rate," said hamilton, "and i cannot see that he will do much harm." "what is the rest of his baggage like?" "he has a case of things that look like concave copper plates, sir," said bones, "very thin copper, but copper. then he has two or three copper pipes, and that is about his outfit." mr. corklan was evidently no stranger to the coast, and bones, who watched the man's canoe being loaded that afternoon, and heard his fluent observations on the slackness of his paddlers, realized that his acquaintance with central africa was an extensive one. he cursed in swahili and portuguese, and his language was forcible and impolite. "well," he said at last, "i'll be getting along. i'll make a fishing village for the night, and i ought to reach my destination in a week. i shan't be seeing you again, so i'll say good-bye." "how do you suppose you're going to get out of the country?" asked bones curiously. mr. corklan laughed. "so long!" he said. "one moment, my dashin' old explorer," said bones. "a little formality--i want to see your trunks opened." a look of suspicion dawned on the man's face. "what for?" "a little formality, my jolly old hero," said bones. "why didn't you say so before?" growled the man, and had his two trunks landed. "i suppose you know you're exceeding your duty?" "i didn't know--thanks for tellin' me," said bones. "the fact is, sir an' fellow-man, i'm the custom house officer." the man opened his bags, and bones explored. he found three bottles of whisky, and these he extracted. "what's the idea?" asked mr. corklan. bones answered him by breaking the bottles on a near-by stone. "here, what the dickens----" "wine is a mocker," said bones, "strong drink is ragin'. this is what is termed in the land of hope an' glory a prohibition state, an' i'm entitled to fine you five hundred of the brightest an' best for attemptin' to smuggle intoxicants into our innocent country." bones expected an outburst; instead, his speech evoked no more than a snigger. "you're funny," said the man. "my friends tell me so," admitted bones. "but there's nothin' funny about drink. acquainted as you are with the peculiar workin's of the native psychology, dear sir, you will understand the primitive cravin' of the untutored mind for the enemy that we put in our mouths to steal away our silly old brains. i wish you 'bon voyage.'" "so long," said mr. corklan. bones went back to the residency and made his report, and there, for the time being, the matter ended. it was not unusual for wandering scientists, manufacturers, and representatives of shipping companies to arrive armed with letters of introduction or command, and to be dispatched into the interior. the visits, happily, were few and far between. on this occasion sanders, being uneasy, sent one of his spies to follow the adventurer, with orders to report any extraordinary happening--a necessary step to take, for the n'gombi, and especially the inner n'gombi, are a secretive people, and news from local sources is hard to come by. "i shall never be surprised to learn that a war has been going on in the n'gombi for two months without our hearing a word about it." "if they fight amongst themselves--yes," said captain hamilton; "if they fight outsiders, there will be plenty of bleats. why not send bones to overlook his sugar experiments," he added. "let's talk about something pleasant," said bones hastily. it was exactly three months later when he actually made the trip. "take the _zaire_ up to the bend of the isisi," said sanders one morning, at breakfast, "and find out what ali kano is doing--the lazy beggar should have reported." "any news from the n'gombi?" asked hamilton. "only roundabout stories of their industry. apparently the sugar merchant is making big experiments. he has set half the people digging roots for him. be ready to sail at dawn." "will it be a dangerous trip?" asked the girl. "no. why?" smiled sanders. "because i'd like to go. oh, please, don't look so glum! bones is awfully good to me." "better than a jolly old brother," murmured bones. "h'm!" sanders shook his head, and she appealed to her brother. "please!" "i wouldn't mind your going," said hamilton, "if only to look after bones." "s-sh!" said bones reproachfully. "if you're keen on it, i don't see why you shouldn't--if you had a chaperon." "a chaperon!" sneered bones. "great heavens! do, old skipper, pull yourself together. open the jolly old window and give him air. feelin' better, sir?" "a chaperon! how absurd!" cried the girl indignantly. "i'm old enough to be bones's mother! i'm nearly twenty--well, i'm older than bones, and i'm ever so much more capable of looking after myself." the end of it was that she went, with her kano maid and with the wife of abiboo to cook for her. and in two days they came to the bend of the river, and bones pursued his inquiries for the missing spy, but without success. "but this i tell you, lord," said the little chief who acted as sanders's agent, "that there are strange things happening in the n'gombi country, for all the people have gone mad, and are digging up their teeth (tusks) and bringing them to a white man." "this shall go to sandi," said bones, realizing the importance of the news; and that same evening he turned the bow of the _zaire_ down stream. * * * * * thus said wafa, the half-breed, for he was neither foreign arab nor native n'gombi, yet combined the cunning of both-"soon we shall see the puc-a-puc of government turn from the crookedness of the river, and i will go out and speak to our lord tibbetti, who is a very simple man, and like a child." "o wafa," said one of the group of armed men which stood shivering on the beach in the cold hours of dawn, "may this be a good palaver! as for me, my stomach is filled with fearfulness. let us all drink this magic water, for it gives us men courage." "that you shall do when you have carried out all our master's works," said wafa, and added with confidence: "have no fear, for soon you shall see great wonders." they heard the deep boom of the _zaire's_ siren signalling a solitary and venturesome fisherman to quit the narrow fair-way, and presently she came round the bend of the river, a dazzling white craft, showering sparks from her two slender smoke-stacks and leaving behind her twin cornucopias of grey smoke. wafa stepped into a canoe, and, seeing that the others were preparing to follow him, he struck out swiftly, man[oe]uvring his ironwood boat to the very waters from whence a scared fisherman was frantically paddling. "go not there, foreigner," wailed the isisi stabber-of-waters, "for it is our lord sandi, and his puc-a-puc has bellowed terribly." "die you!" roared wafa. "on the river bottom your body, son of a fish and father of snakes!" "o foreign frog!" came the shrill retort. "o poor man with two men's wives! o goatless----" wafa was too intent upon his business to heed the rest. he struck the water strongly with his broad paddles, and reached the centre of the channel. bones of the houssas put up his hand and jerked the rope of the siren. _whoo-o-o--woo-o-op!_ "bless his silly old head," said bones fretfully, "the dashed fellow will be run down!" the girl was dusting bones's cabin, and looked round. "what is it?" she asked. bones made no reply. he gripped the telegraph handle and rung the engines astern as yoka, the steersman, spun the wheel. bump! bump! bumpity bump! the steamer slowed and stopped, and the girl came out to the bridge in alarm. the _zaire_ had struck a sandbank, and was stranded high, if not dry. "bring that man on board," said the wrathful bones. and they hauled to his presence wafa, who was neither arab nor n'gombi, but combined the vices of both. "o man," said bones, glaring at the offender through his eyeglass, "what evil ju-ju sent you to stop my fine ship?" he spoke in the isisi dialect, and was surprised to be answered in coast arabic. "lord," said the man, unmoved by the wrath of his overlord, "i come to make a great palaver concerning spirits and devils. lord, i have found a great magic." bones grinned, for he had that sense of humour which rises superior to all other emotions. "then you shall try your magic, my man, and lift this ship to deep water." wafa was not at all embarrassed. "lord, this is a greater magic, for it concerns men, and brings to life the dead. for, lord, in this forest is a wonderful tree. behold!" he took from his loose-rolled waistband a piece of wood. bones took it in his hand. it was the size of a corn cob, and had been newly cut, so that the wood was moist with sap. bones smelt it. there was a faint odour of resin and camphor. patricia hamilton smiled. it was so like bones to be led astray by side issues. "where is the wonder, man, that you should drive my ship upon a sandbank! and who are these?" bones pointed to six canoes, filled with men, approaching the _zaire_. the man did not answer, but, taking the wood from bones's hand, pulled a knife from his belt and whittled a shaving. "here, lord," he said, "is my fine magic. with this wood i can do many miracles, such as making sick men strong and the strong weak." bones heard the canoes bump against the side of the boat, but his mind was occupied with curiosity. "thus do i make my magic, tibbetti," droned wafa. he held the knife by the haft in the right hand, and the chip of wood in his left. the point of the knife was towards the white man's heart. "bones!" screamed the girl. bones jumped aside and struck out as the man lunged. his nobbly fist caught wafa under the jaw, and the man stumbled and fell. at the same instant there was a yell from the lower deck, the sound of scuffling, and a shot. bones jumped for the girl, thrust her into the cabin, sliding the steel door behind him. his two revolvers hung at the head of his bunk, and he slipped them out, gave a glance to see whether they were loaded, and pushed the door. "shut the door after me," he breathed. the bridge deck was deserted, and bones raced down the ladder to the iron deck. two houssas and half a dozen natives lay dead or dying. the remainder of the soldiers were fighting desperately with whatever weapons they found to their hands--for, with characteristic carefulness, they had laid their rifles away in oil, lest the river air rust them--and, save for the sentry, who used a rifle common to all, they were unarmed. "o dogs!" roared bones. the invaders turned and faced the long-barrelled webleys, and the fight was finished. later, wafa came to the bridge with bright steel manacles on his wrist. his companions in the mad adventure sat on the iron deck below, roped leg to leg, and listened with philosophic calm as the houssa sentry drew lurid pictures of the fate which awaited them. bones sat in his deep chair, and the prisoner squatted before him. "you shall tell my lord sandi why you did this wickedness," he said, "also, wafa, what evil thought was in your mind." "lord," said wafa cheerfully, "what good comes to me if i speak?" something about the man's demeanour struck bones as strange, and he rose and went close to him. "i see," he said, with a tightened lip. "the palaver is finished." they led the man away, and the girl, who had been a spectator, asked anxiously: "what is wrong, bones?" but the young man shook his head. "the breaking of all that sanders has worked for," he said bitterly, and the very absence of levity in one whose heart was so young and gay struck a colder chill to the girl's heart than the yells of the warring n'gombi. for sanders had a big place in patricia hamilton's life. in an hour the _zaire_ was refloated, and was going at full speed down stream. * * * * * sanders held his court in the thatched palaver house between the houssa guard-room and the little stockade prison at the river's edge--a prison hidden amidst the flowering shrubs and acacia trees. wafa was the first to be examined. "lord," he said, without embarrassment, "i tell you this--that i will not speak of the great wonders which lay in my heart unless you give me a book[6] that i shall go free." [footnote 6: a written promise.] sanders smiled unpleasantly. "by the prophet, i say what is true," he began confidentially; and wafa winced at the oath, for he knew that truth was coming, and truth of a disturbing character. "in this land i govern millions of men," said sanders, speaking deliberately, "i and two white lords. i govern by fear, wafa, because there is no love in simple native men, save a love for their own and their bellies." "lord, you speak truth," said wafa, the superior arab of him responding to the confidence. "now, if you make to kill the lord tibbetti," sanders went on, "and do your wickedness for secret reasons, must i not discover what is that secret, lest it mean that i lose my hold upon the lands i govern?" "lord, that is also true," said wafa. "for what is one life more or less," asked sanders, "a suffering smaller or greater by the side of my millions and their good?" "lord, you are suliman," said wafa eagerly. "therefore, if you let me go, who shall be the worse for it?" again sanders smiled, that grim parting of lip to show his white teeth. "yet you may lie, and, if i let you go, i have neither the truth nor your body. no, wafa, you shall speak." he rose up from his chair. "to-day you shall go to the village of irons," he said; "to-morrow i will come to you, and you shall answer my questions. and, if you will not speak, i shall light a little fire on your chest, and that fire shall not go out except when the breath goes from your body. this palaver is finished." so they took wafa away to the village of irons, where the evil men of the territories worked with chains about their ankles for their many sins, and in the morning came sanders. "speak, man," he said. wafa stared with an effort of defiance, but his face was twitching, for he saw the soldiers driving pegs into the ground, preparatory to staking him out. "i will speak the truth," he said. so they took him into a hut, and there sanders sat with him alone for half an hour; and when the commissioner came out, his face was drawn and grey. he beckoned to hamilton, who came forward and saluted. "we will get back to headquarters," he said shortly, and they arrived two hours later. sanders sat in the little telegraph office, and the morse sounder rattled and clacked for half an hour. other sounders were at work elsewhere, delicate needles vacillated in cable offices, and an under-secretary was brought from the house of commons to the bureau of the prime minister to answer a question. at four o'clock in the afternoon came the message sanders expected: "london says permit for corklan forged. arrest. take extremest steps. deal drastically, ruthlessly. holding in residence three companies african rifles and mountain battery support you. good luck. administration." sanders came out of the office, and bones met him. "men all aboard, sir," he reported. "we'll go," said sanders. he met the girl half-way to the quay. "i know it is something very serious," she said quietly; "you have all my thoughts." she put both her hands in his, and he took them. then, without a word, he left her. * * * * * mr. p. t. corklan sat before his new hut in the village of fimini. in that hut--the greatest the n'gombi had ever seen--were stored hundreds of packages all well wrapped and sewn in native cloth. he was not smoking a cigar, because his stock of cigars was running short, but he was chewing a toothpick, for these, at a pinch, could be improvised. he called to his headman. "wafa?" he asked. "lord, he will come, for he is very cunning," said the headman. mr. corklan grunted. he walked to the edge of the village, where the ground sloped down to a strip of vivid green rushes. "tell me, how long will this river be full?" he asked. "lord, for a moon." corklan nodded. whilst the secret river ran, there was escape for him, for its meandering course would bring him and his rich cargo to spanish territory and deep water. his headman waited as though he had something to say. "lord," he said at last, "the chief of the n'coro village sends this night ten great teeth and a pot." corklan nodded. "if we're here, we'll get 'em. i hope we shall be gone." and then the tragically unexpected happened. a man in white came through the trees towards him, and behind was another white man and a platoon of native soldiers. "trouble," said corklan to himself, and thought the moment was one which called for a cigar. "good-morning, mr. sanders!" he said cheerfully. sanders eyed him in silence. "this is an unexpected pleasure," said corklan. "corklan, where is your still?" asked sanders. the plump man laughed. "you'll find it way back in the forest," he said, "and enough sweet potatoes to distil fifty gallons of spirit--all proof, sir, decimal 1986 specific gravity water extracted by soemmering's method--in fact, as good as you could get it in england." sanders nodded. "i remember now--you're the man that ran the still in the ashanti country, and got away with the concession." "that's me," said the other complacently. "p. t. corklan--i never assume an alias." sanders nodded again. "i came past villages," he said, "where every man and almost every woman was drunk. i have seen villages wiped out in drunken fights. i have seen a year's hard work ahead of me. you have corrupted a province in a very short space of time, and, as far as i can judge, you hoped to steal a government ship and get into neutral territory with the prize you have won by your----" "enterprise," said mr. corklan obligingly. "you'll have to prove that--about the ship. i am willing to stand any trial you like. there's no law about prohibition--it's one you've made yourself. i brought up the still--that's true--brought it up in sections and fitted it. i've been distilling spirits--that's true----" "i also saw a faithful servant of government, one ali kano," said sanders, in a low voice. "he was lying on the bank of this secret river of yours with two revolver bullets in him." "the nigger was spying on me, and i shot him," explained corklan. "i understand," said sanders. and then, after a little pause: "will you be hung or shot?" the cigar dropped from the man's mouth. "hey?" he said hoarsely. "you--you can't--do that--for making a drop of liquor--for niggers!" "for murdering a servant of the state," corrected sanders. "but, if it is any consolation to you, i will tell you that i would have killed you, anyway." it took mr. corklan an hour to make up his mind, and then he chose rifles. to-day the n'gombi point to a mound near the village of fimini, which they call by a name which means, "the waters of madness," and it is believed to be haunted by devils. chapter xi eye to eye "bones," said captain hamilton, in despair, "you will never be a napoleon." "dear old sir and brother-officer," said lieutenant tibbetts, "you are a jolly old pessimist." bones was by way of being examined in subjects c and d, for promotion to captaincy, and hamilton was the examining officer. by all the rules and laws and strict regulations which govern military examinations, bones had not only failed, but he had seriously jeopardized his right to his lieutenancy, if every man had his due. "now, let me put this," said hamilton. "suppose you were in charge of a company of men, and you were attacked on three sides, and you had a river behind you on the fourth side, and you found things were going very hard against you. what would you do?" "dear old sir," said bones thoughtfully, and screwing his face into all manner of contortions in his effort to secure the right answer, "i should go and wet my heated brow in the purling brook, then i'd take counsel with myself." "you'd lose," said hamilton, with a groan. "that's the last person in the world you should go to for advice, bones. suppose," he said, in a last desperate effort to awaken a gleam of military intelligence in his subordinate's mind, "suppose you were trekking through the forest with a hundred rifles, and you found your way barred by a thousand armed men. what would you do?" "go back," said bones, "and jolly quick, dear old fellow." "go back? what would you go back for?" asked the other, in astonishment. "to make my will," said bones firmly, "and to write a few letters to dear old friends in the far homeland. i have friends, ham," he said, with dignity, "jolly old people who listen for my footsteps, and to whom my voice is music, dear old fellow." "what other illusions do they suffer from?" asked hamilton offensively, closing his book with a bang. "well, you will be sorry to learn that i shall not recommend you for promotion." "you don't mean that," said bones hoarsely. "i mean that," said hamilton. "well, i thought if i had a pal to examine me, i would go through with flying colours." "then i am not a pal. you don't suggest," said hamilton, with ominous dignity, "that i would defraud the public by lying as to the qualities of a deficient character?" "yes, i do," said bones, nodding vigorously, "for my sake and for the sake of the child." the child was that small native whom bones had rescued and adopted. "not even for the sake of the child," said hamilton, with an air of finality. "bones, you're ploughed." bones did not speak, and hamilton gathered together the papers, forms, and paraphernalia of examination. he lifted his head suddenly, to discover that bones was staring at him. it was no ordinary stare, but something that was a little uncanny. "what the dickens are you looking at?" bones did not speak. his round eyes were fixed on his superior in an unwinking glare. "when i said you had failed," said hamilton kindly, "i meant, of course----" "that i'd passed," muttered bones excitedly. "say it, ham--say it! 'bones, congratulations, dear old lad'----" "i meant," said hamilton coldly, "that you have another chance next month." the face of lieutenant tibbetts twisted into a painful contortion. "it didn't work!" he said bitterly, and stalked from the room. "rum beggar!" thought hamilton, and smiled to himself. "have you noticed anything strange about bones?" asked patricia hamilton the next day. her brother looked at her over his newspaper. "the strangest thing about bones is bones," he said, "and that i am compelled to notice every day of my life." she looked up at sanders, who was idly pacing the stoep of the residency. "have you, mr. sanders?" sanders paused. "beyond the fact that he is rather preoccupied and stares at one----" "that is it," said the girl. "i knew i was right--he stares horribly. he has been doing it for a week--just staring. do you think he is ill?" "he has been moping in his hut for the past week," said hamilton thoughtfully, "but i was hoping that it meant that he was swotting for his exam. but staring--i seem to remember----" the subject of the discussion made his appearance at the far end of the square at that moment, and they watched him. first he walked slowly towards the houssa sentry, who shouldered his arms in salute. bones halted before the soldier and stared at him. somehow, the watchers on the stoep knew that he was staring--there was something so fixed, so tense in his attitude. then, without warning, the sentry's hand passed across his body, and the rifle came down to the "present." "what on earth is he doing?" demanded the outraged hamilton, for sentries do not present arms to subaltern officers. bones passed on. he stopped before one of the huts in the married lines, and stared at the wife of sergeant abiboo. he stared long and earnestly, and the woman, giggling uncomfortably, stared back. then she began to dance. "for heaven's sake----" gasped sanders, as bones passed on. "bones!" roared hamilton. bones turned first his head, then his body towards the residency, and made his slow way towards the group. "what is happening?" asked hamilton. the face of bones was flushed; there was triumph in his eye--triumph which his pose of nonchalance could not wholly conceal. "what is happening, dear old officer?" he asked innocently, and stared. "what the dickens are you goggling at?" demanded hamilton irritably. "and please explain why you told the sentry to present arms to you." "i didn't tell him, dear old sir and superior captain," said bones. his eyes never left hamilton's; he stared with a fierceness and with an intensity that was little short of ferocious. "confound you, what are you staring at? aren't you well?" demanded hamilton wrathfully. bones blinked. "quite well, sir and comrade," he said gravely. "pardon the question--did you feel a curious and unaccountable inclination to raise your right hand and salute me?" "did i--what?" demanded his dumbfounded superior. "a sort of itching of the right arm--an almost overpowerin' inclination to touch your hat to poor old bones?" hamilton drew a long breath. "i felt an almost overpowering desire to lift my foot," he said significantly. "look at me again," said bones calmly. "fix your eyes on mine an' think of nothin'. now shut your eyes. now you can't open 'em." "of course i can open them," said hamilton. "have you been drinking, bones?" a burst of delighted laughter from the girl checked bones's indignant denial. "i know!" she cried, clapping her hands. "bones is trying to mesmerize you!" "what?" the scarlet face of bones betrayed him. "power of the human eye, dear old sir," he said hurriedly. "some people have it--it's a gift. i discovered it the other day after readin' an article in _the scientific healer_." "phew!" hamilton whistled. "so," he said, with dangerous calm, "all this staring and gaping of yours means that, does it? i remember now. when i was examining you for promotion the other day, you stared. trying to mesmerize me?" "let bygones be bygones, dear old friend," begged bones. "and when i asked you to produce the company pay-sheets, which you forgot to bring up to date, you stared at me!" "it's a gift," said bones feebly. "oh, bones," said the girl slowly, "you stared at me, too, after i refused to go picnicking with you on the beach." "all's fair in love an' war," said bones vaguely. "it's a wonderful gift." "have you ever mesmerized anybody?" asked hamilton curiously, and bones brightened up. "rather, dear old sir," he said. "jolly old ali, my secretary--goes off in a regular trance on the slightest provocation. fact, dear old ham." hamilton clapped his hands, and his orderly, dozing in the shade of the verandah, rose up. "go, bring ali abid," said hamilton. and when the man had gone: "are you under the illusion that you made the sentry present arms to you, and abiboo's woman dance for you, by the magic of your eye?" "you saw," said the complacent bones. "it's a wonderful gift, dear old ham. as soon as i read the article, i tried it on ali. got him, first pop!" the girl was bubbling with suppressed laughter, and there was a twinkle in sanders's eye. "i recall that you saw me in connection with shooting leave in the n'gombi." "yes, sir and excellency," said the miserable bones. "and i said that i thought it inadvisable, because of the trouble in the bend of the isisi river." "yes, excellency and sir," agreed bones dolefully. "and then you stared." "did i, dear old--did i, sir?" his embarrassment was relieved by the arrival of ali. so buoyant a soul had bones, that from the deeps of despair into which he was beginning to sink he rose to heights of confidence, not to say self-assurance, that were positively staggering. "miss patricia, ladies and gentlemen," said bones briskly, "we have here ali abid, confidential servant and faithful retainer. i will now endeavour to demonstrate the power of the human eye." he met the stolid gaze of ali and stared. he stared terribly and alarmingly, and ali, to do him justice, stared back. "close your eyes," commanded bones. "you can't open them, can you?" "sir," said ali, "optics of subject are hermetically sealed." "i will now put him in a trance," said bones, and waved his hand mysteriously. ali rocked backward and forward, and would have fallen but for the supporting arm of the demonstrator. "he is now insensible to pain," said bones proudly. "lend me your hatpin, pat," said hamilton. "i will now awaken him," said bones hastily, and snapped his fingers. ali rose to his feet with great dignity. "thank you, ali; you may go," said his master, and turned, ready to receive the congratulations of the party. "do you seriously believe that you mesmerized that humbug?" bones drew himself erect. "sir and captain," he said stiffly, "do you suggest i am a jolly old impostor? you saw the sentry, sir, you saw the woman, sir." "and i saw ali," said hamilton, nodding, "and i'll bet he gave the sentry something and the woman something to play the goat for you." bones bowed slightly and distantly. "i cannot discuss my powers, dear old sir; you realize that there are some subjects too delicate to broach except with kindred spirits. i shall continue my studies of psychic mysteries undeterred by the cold breath of scepticism." he saluted everybody, and departed with chin up and shoulders squared, a picture of offended dignity. that night sanders lay in bed, snuggled up on his right side, which meant that he had arrived at the third stage of comfort which precedes that fading away of material life which men call sleep. half consciously he listened to the drip, drip, drip of rain on the stoep, and promised himself that he would call upon abiboo in the morning, to explain the matter of a choked gutter, for abiboo had sworn, by the prophet and certain minor relatives of the great one, that he had cleared every bird's nest from the ducts about the residency. drip, drip, drip, drip, drip! sanders sank with luxurious leisure into the nothingness of the night. drip-tap, drip-tap, drip-tap! he opened his eyes slowly, slid one leg out of bed, and groped for his slippers. he slipped into the silken dressing-gown which had been flung over the end of the bed, corded it about him, and switched on the electric light. then he passed out into the big common room, with its chairs drawn together in overnight comradeship, and the solemn tick of the big clock to emphasize the desolation. he paused a second to switch on the lights, then went to the door and flung it open. "enter!" he said in arabic. the man who came in was naked, save for a tarboosh on his head and a loin-cloth about his middle. his slim body shone with moisture, and where he stood on the white matting were two little pools. kano from his brown feet to the soaked fez, he stood erect with that curious assumption of pride and equality which the mussulman bears with less offence to his superiors than any other race. "peace on this house," he said, raising his hand. "speak, ahmet," said sanders, dropping into a big chair and stretching back, with his clasped hands behind his head. he eyed the man gravely and without resentment, for no spy would tap upon his window at night save that the business was a bad one. "lord," said the man, "it is shameful that i should wake your lordship from your beautiful dream, but i came with the river."[7] he looked down at his master, and in the way of certain kano people, who are dialecticians to a man, he asked: "lord, it is written in the sura of ya-sin, 'to the sun it is not given to overtake the moon----'" [footnote 7: i came when i could.] "'nor doth the night outstrip the day; but each in his own sphere doth journey on,'" finished sanders patiently. "thus also begins the sura of the cave: 'praise be to god, who hath sent down the book to his servant, and hath put no crookedness into it.' therefore, ahmet, be plain to me, and leave your good speeches till you meet the abominable sufi." the man sank to his haunches. "lord," he said, "from the bend of the river, where the isisi divides the land of the n'gombi from the lands of the good chief, i came, travelling by day and night with the river, for many strange things have happened which are too wonderful for me. this chief busesi, whom all men call good, has a daughter by his second wife. in the year of the high crops she was given to a stranger from the forest, him they call gufuri-bululu, and he took her away to live in his hut." sanders sat up. "go on, man," he said. "lord, she has returned and performs wonderful magic," said the man, "for by the wonder of her eyes she can make dead men live and live men die, and all people are afraid. also, lord, there was a wise man in the forest, who was blind, and he had a daughter who was the prop and staff of him, and because of his wisdom, and because she hated all who rivalled her, the woman d'rona gufuri told certain men to seize the girl and hold her in a deep pool of water until she was dead." "this is a bad palaver," said sanders; "but you shall tell me what you mean by the wonder of her eyes." "lord," said the man, "she looks upon men, and they do her will. now, it is her will that there shall be a great dance on the rind of the moon, and after she shall send the spears of the people of busesi--who is old and silly, and for this reason is called good--against the n'gombi folk." "oh," said sanders, biting his lip in thought, "by the wonder of her eyes!" "lord," said the man, "even i have seen this, for she has stricken men to the ground by looking at them, and some she has made mad, and others foolish." sanders turned his head at a noise from the doorway. the tall figure of hamilton stood peering sleepily at the light. "i heard your voice," he said apologetically. "what is the trouble?" briefly sanders related the story the man had told. "wow!" said hamilton, in a paroxysm of delight. "what's wrong?" "bones!" shouted hamilton. "bones is the fellow. let him go up and subdue her with his eye. he's the very fellow. i'll go over and call him, sir." he hustled into his clothing, slipped on a mackintosh, and, making his way across the dark square, admitted himself to the sleeping-hut of lieutenant tibbetts. by the light of his electric torch he discovered the slumberer. bones lay on his back, his large mouth wide open, one thin leg thrust out from the covers, and he was making strange noises. hamilton found the lamp and lit it, then he proceeded to the heart-breaking task of waking his subordinate. "up, you lazy devil!" he shouted, shaking bones by the shoulder. bones opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. "on the word 'one!'" he said hoarsely, "carry the left foot ten inches to the left front, at the same time bringing the rifle to a horizontal position at the right side. one!" "wake up, wake up, bones!" bones made a wailing noise. it was the noise of a mother panther who has returned to her lair to discover that her offspring have been eaten by wild pigs. "whar-r-ow-ow!" he said, and turned over on his right side. hamilton pocketed his torch, and, lifting bones bodily from the bed, let him fall with a thud. bones scrambled up, staring. "gentlemen of the jury," he said, "i stand before you a ruined man. drink has been my downfall, as the dear old judge remarked. i _did_ kill wilfred morgan, and i plead the unwritten law." he saluted stiffly, collapsed on to his pillow, and fell instantly into a deep child-like sleep. hamilton groaned. he had had occasion to wake bones from his beauty sleep before, but he had never been as bad as this. he took a soda siphon from the little sideboard and depressed the lever, holding the outlet above his victim's head. bones leapt up with a roar. "hello, ham!" he said quite sanely. "well dear old officer, this is the finish! you stand by the lifeboat an' shoot down anybody who attempts to leave the ship before the torpedoes are saved. i'm goin' down into the hold to have a look at the women an' children." he saluted, and was stepping out into the wet night, when hamilton caught his arm. "steady, the buffs, my sleeping beauty! dress yourself. sanders wants you." bones nodded. "i'll just drive over and see him," he said, climbed back into bed, and was asleep in a second. hamilton put out the light and went back to the residency. "i hadn't the heart to cut his ear off," he said regretfully. "i'm afraid we shan't be able to consult bones till the morning." sanders nodded. "anyway, i will wait for the morning. i have told abiboo to get stores and wood aboard, and to have steam in the _zaire_. let us emulate bones." "heaven forbid!" said hamilton piously. bones came blithely to breakfast, a dapper and a perfectly groomed figure. he received the news of the ominous happenings in the n'gombi country with that air of profound solemnity which so annoyed hamilton. "i wish you had called me in the night," he said gravely. "dear old officer, i think it was due to me." "called you! called you! why--why----" spluttered hamilton. "in fact, we did call you bones, but we could not wake you," smoothed sanders. a look of amazement spread over the youthful face of lieutenant tibbetts. "you called me?" he asked incredulously. "called _me_?" "_you!_" hissed hamilton. "i not only called you, but i kicked you. i poured water on you, and i chucked you up to the roof of the hut and dropped you." a faint but unbelieving smile from bones. "are you sure it was me, dear old officer?" he asked, and hamilton choked. "i only ask," said bones, turning blandly to the girl, "because i'm a notoriously light sleeper, dear old miss patricia. the slightest stir wakes me, and instantly i'm in possession of all my faculties. bosambo calls me 'eye-that-never-shuts----'" "bosambo is a notorious leg-puller," interrupted hamilton irritably. "really, bones----" "often, dear old sister," bones went on impressively, "campin' out in the forest, an' sunk in the profound sleep which youth an' a good conscience brings, something has wakened me, an' i've jumped to my feet, a revolver in my hand, an' what do you think it was?" "a herd of wild elephants walking on your chest?" suggested hamilton. "what do you think it was, dear old patricia miss?" persisted bones, and interrupted her ingenious speculation in his usual aggravating manner: "the sound of a footstep breakin' a twig a hundred yards away!" "wonderful!" sneered hamilton, stirring his coffee. "bones, if you could only spell, what a novelist you'd be!" "the point is," said sanders, with good-humoured patience, which brought, for some curious reason, a warm sense of intimacy to the girl, "you've got to go up and try your eye on the woman d'rona gufuri." bones leant back in his chair and spoke with deliberation and importance, for he realized that he, and only he, could supply a solution to the difficulties of his superiors. "the power of the human eye, when applied by a jolly old scientist to a heathen, is irresistible. you may expect me down with the prisoner in four days." "she may be more trouble than you expect," said sanders seriously. "the longer one lives in native lands, the less confident can one be. there have been remarkable cases of men possessing the power which this woman has----" "and which i have, sir an' excellency, to an extraordinary extent," interrupted bones firmly. "have no fear." * * * * * thirty-six hours later bones stood before the woman d'rona gufuri. "lord," said the woman, "men speak evilly of me to sandi, and now you have come to take me to the village of irons." "that is true, d'rona," said bones, and looked into her eyes. "lord," said the woman, speaking slowly, "you shall go back to sandi and say, 'i have not seen the woman d'rona'--for, lord, is this not truth?" "i'wa! i'wa!" muttered bones thickly. "you cannot see me tibbetti, and i am not here," said the woman, and she spoke before the assembled villagers, who stood, knuckles to teeth, gazing awe-stricken upon the scene. "i cannot see you," said bones sleepily. "and now you cannot hear me, lord?" bones did not reply. the woman took him by the arm and led him through the patch of wood which fringes the river and separates beach from village. none followed them; even the two houssas who formed the escort of lieutenant tibbetts stayed rooted to the spot. bones passed into the shadow of the trees, the woman's hand on his arm. then suddenly from the undergrowth rose a lank figure, and d'rona of the magic eye felt a bony hand at her throat. she laughed. "o man, whoever you be, look upon me in this light, and your strength shall melt." she twisted round to meet her assailant's face, and shrieked aloud, for he was blind. and bones stood by without moving, without seeing or hearing, whilst the strong hands of the blind witch-doctor, whose daughter she had slain, crushed the life from her body. * * * * * "of course, sir," explained bones, "you may think she mesmerized me. on the other hand, it is quite possible that she acted under my influence. it's a moot point, sir an' excellency--jolly moot!" chapter xii the hooded king there was a certain portuguese governor--this was in the days when colhemos was colonial minister--who had a small legitimate income and an extravagant wife. this good lady had a villa at cintra, a box at the real theatre de sã£o carlos, and a motor-car, and gave five o'clocks at the hotel nunes to the aristocracy and gentry who inhabited that spot, of whom the ecstatic spaniard said, "dejar a cintra, y ver al mundo entero, es, con verdad caminar en capuchera." since her husband's salary was exactly $66.50 weekly and the upkeep of the villa alone was twice that amount, it is not difficult to understand that senhor bonaventura was a remarkable man. colhemos came over to the foreign office in the praco de commercio one day and saw dr. sarabesta, and sarabesta, who was both a republican and a sinner, was also ambitious, or he had a plan and an ideal--two very dangerous possessions for a politician, since they lead inevitably to change, than which nothing is more fatal to political systems. "colhemos," said the doctor dramatically, "you are ruining me! you are bringing me to the dust and covering me with the hatred and mistrust of the powers!" he folded his arms and rose starkly from the chair, his beard all a-bristle, his deep little eyes glaring. "what is wrong, baptisa?" asked colhemos. the other flung out his arms in an extravagant gesture. "ruin!" he cried somewhat inadequately. he opened the leather portfolio which lay on the table and extracted six sheets of foolscap paper. "read!" he said, and subsided into his padded armchair a picture of gloom. the sheets of foolscap were surmounted by crests showing an emaciated lion and a small horse with a spiral horn in his forehead endeavouring to climb a chafing-dish which had been placed on edge for the purpose, and was suitably inscribed with another lion, two groups of leopards and a harp. colhemos did not stop to admire the menagerie, but proceeded at once to the literature. it was in french, and had to do with a certain condition of affairs in portuguese central africa which "constituted a grave and increasing menace to the native subjects" of "grande bretagne." there were hints, "which his majesty's government would be sorry to believe, of raids and requisitions upon the native manhood" of this country which differed little from slave raids. further, "mr. commissioner sanders of the territories regretted to learn" that these labour requisitions resulted in a condition of affairs not far removed from slavery. colhemos read through the dispatch from start to finish, and put it down thoughtfully. "pinto has been overdoing it," he admitted. "i shall have to write to him." "what you write to pinto may be interesting enough to print," said dr. sarabesta violently, "but what shall i write to london? this commissioner sanders is a fairly reliable man, and his government will act upon what he says." colhemos, who was really a great man (it was a distinct loss when he faced a firing platoon in the revolutionary days of '12), tapped his nose with a penholder. "you can say that we shall send a special commissioner to the m'fusi country to report, and that he will remain permanently established in the m'fusi to suppress lawless acts." the doctor looked up wonderingly. "pinto won't like that," said he, "besides which, the m'fusi are quite unmanageable. the last time we tried to bring them to reason it cost--santa maria!... and the lives!... phew!" colhemos nodded. "the duc de sagosta," he said slowly, "is an enthusiastic young man. he is also a royalist and allied by family ties to dr. ceillo of the left. he is, moreover, an anglomaniac--though why he should be so when his mother was an american woman i do not know. he shall be our commissioner, my dear baptisa." his dear baptisa sat bolt upright, every hair in his bristling head erect. "a royalist!" he gasped, "do you want to set portugal ablaze?" "there are moments when i could answer 'yes' to that question," said the truthful colhemos "but for the moment i am satisfied that there will be no fireworks. it will do no harm to send the boy. it will placate the left and please the clerics--it will also consolidate our reputation for liberality and largeness of mind. also the young man will either be killed or fall a victim to the sinister influences of that corruption which, alas, has so entered into the vitals of our colonial service." so manuel duc de sagosta was summoned, and prepared for the subject of his visit by telephone, came racing up from cintra in his big american juggernaut, leapt up the stairs of the colonial office two at a time, and came to colhemos' presence in a state of mind which may be described as a big mental whoop. "you will understand, senhor," said colhemos, "that i am doing that which may make me unpopular. for that i care nothing! my country is my first thought, and the glory and honour of our flag! some day you may hold my portfolio in the cabinet, and it will be well if you bring to your high and noble office the experience...." then they all talked together, and the dark room flickered with gesticulating palms. colhemos came to see the boy off by the m.n.p. boat which carried him to the african coast. "i suppose, senhor," said the duc, "there would be no objection on the part of the government to my calling on my way at a certain british port. i have a friend in the english army--we were at clifton together----" "my friend," said colhemos, pressing the young man's hand warmly, "you must look upon england as a potential ally, and lose no opportunity which offers to impress upon our dear colleagues this fact, that behind england, unmoved, unshaken, faithful, stands the armed might of portugal. may the saints have you in their keeping!" he embraced him, kissing him on both cheeks. * * * * * bones was drilling recruits at headquarters when hamilton hailed him from the edge of the square. "there's a pal of yours come to see you, bones," he roared. bones marched sedately to his superior and touched his helmet. "sir!" "a friend of yours--just landed from the portuguese packet." bones was mystified, and went up to the residency to find a young man in spotless white being entertained by patricia hamilton and a very thoughtful sanders. the duc de sagosta leapt to his feet as bones came up the verandah. "hullo, conk!" he yelled hilariously. bones stared. "god bless my life," he stammered, "it's mug!" there was a terrific hand-shaking accompanied by squawking inquiries which were never answered, uproarious laughter, back patting, brazen and baseless charges that each was growing fat, and sanders watched it with great kindness. "here's old ham," said bones, "you ought to know ham--captain hamilton, sir, my friend, the duke of something or other--but you can call him mug--miss hamilton--this is mug." "we've already been introduced," she laughed. "but why do you let him call you mug?" the duc grinned. "i like mug," he said simply. he was to stay to lunch, for the ship was not leaving until the afternoon, and bones carried him off to his hut. "a joyous pair," said hamilton enviously. "lord, if i was only a boy again!" sanders shook his head. "you don't echo that wish?" said pat. "i wasn't thinking about that--i was thinking of the boy. i dislike this m'fusi business, and i can't think why the government sent him. they are a pretty bad lot--their territory is at the back of the akasava, and the chief of the m'fusi is a rascal." "but he says that he has been sent to reform them," said the girl. sanders smiled. "it is not a job i should care to undertake--and yet----" he knitted his forehead. "and yet----?" "i could reform them--bones could reform them. but if they were reformed it would break bonaventura, for he holds his job subject to their infamy." at lunch sanders was unusually silent, a silence which was unnoticed, save by the girl. bones and his friend, however, needed no stimulation. lunch was an almost deafening meal, and when the time came for the duc to leave, the whole party went down to the beach to see him embark. "good-bye, old mug!" roared bones, as the boat pulled away. "whoop! hi! how!" "you're a noisy devil," said hamilton, admiringly. "vox populi, vox dei," said bones. he had an unexpected visitor that evening, for whilst he was dressing for dinner, sanders came into his hut--an unusual happening. what sanders had to say may not be related since it was quite unofficial, but bones came to dinner that night and behaved with such decorum and preserved a mien so grave, that hamilton thought he was ill. the duc continued his journey down the african coast and presently came to a port which was little more than a beach, a jetty, a big white house, and by far the most imposing end of the moanda road. in due time, he arrived by the worst track in the world (he was six days on the journey) at moanda itself, and came into the presence of the governor. did the duc but know it, his excellency had also been prepared for the young man's mission. the mail had arrived by carrier the day before the duc put in his appearance, and pinto bonaventura had his little piece all ready to say. "i will give you all the assistance i possibly can," he said, as they sat at _dã©jeuner_, "but, naturally, i cannot guarantee you immunity." "immunity?" said the puzzled duc. senhor bonaventura nodded gravely. "nothing is more repugnant to me than slavery," he said, "unless it be the terrible habit of drinking. if i could sweep these evils out of existence with a wave of my hand, believe me i would do so; but i cannot perform miracles, and the government will not give me sufficient troops to suppress these practices which every one of us hold in abhorrence." "but," protested the duc, a little alarmed, "since i am going to reform the m'fusi...." the governor choked over his coffee and apologized. he did not laugh, because long residence in central africa had got him out of the habit, and had taught him a certain amount of self-control in all things except the consumption of marsala. "pray go on," he said, wearing an impassive face. "it will be to the interests of portugal, no less than to your excellency's interest," said the young man, leaning across the table and speaking with great earnestness, "if i can secure a condition of peace, prosperity, sobriety, and if i can establish the portuguese law in this disturbed area." "undoubtedly," acknowledged the older man with profound seriousness. so far from the duc's statement representing anything near the truth, it may be said that a restoration of order would serve his excellency very badly indeed. in point of fact he received something like eight shillings for every "head" of "recruited labour." he also received a commission from the same interested syndicates which exported able-bodied labourers, a commission amounting to six shillings upon every case of square-face, and a larger sum upon every keg of rum that came into the country. sobriety and law would, in fact, spell much discomfort to the elegant lady who lived in the villa at cintra, and would considerably diminish not only senhor bonaventura's handsome balance at the bank of brazil, but would impoverish certain ministers, permanent and temporary, who looked to their dear pinto for periodical contributions to what was humorously described as "the party fund." yet the duc de sagosta went into the wilds with a high heart and a complete faith, in his youthful and credulous soul, that he had behind him the full moral and physical support of a high-minded and patriotic governor. the high-minded and patriotic governor, watching the caravan of his new assistant disappearing through the woods which fringe moanda, expressed in picturesque language his fervent hope that the mud, the swamp, the forest and the wilderness of the m'fusi country would swallow up this young man for evermore, amen. the unpopularity of the new commissioner was sealed when the governor learnt of his visit to sanders, for "sanders" was a name at which his excellency made disapproving noises. the predecessor of the duc de sagosta was dead. his grave was in the duc's front garden, and was covered with rank grass. the new-comer found the office correspondence in order (as a glib native clerk demonstrated); he also found 103 empty bottles behind the house, and understood the meaning of that coarse grave in the garden. he found that the last index number in the letter-book was 951. it is remarkable that the man he succeeded should have found, in one year, 951 subjects for correspondence, but it is the fact. possibly nine hundred of the letters had to do with the terrible state of the residency at uango-bozeri. the roof leaked, the foundations had settled, and not a door closed as it should close. on the day of his arrival the duc found a _mamba_ resting luxuriously in his one armchair, a discovery which suggested the existence of a whole colony of these deadly brutes--the _mamba_ bite is fatal in exactly ninety seconds--under or near the house. the other fifty dispatches probably had to do with the late commissioner's arrears of pay, for portugal at that time was in the throes of her annual crisis, and ministries were passing through the government offices at lisbon with such rapidity that before a cheque could be carried from the foreign office to the bank, it was out of date. uango bozeri is 220 miles by road from the coast, and is the centre of the child-like people of the m'fusi. here the duc dwelt and had his being, as governor of 2,000 square miles, and overlord of some million people who were cannibals with a passion for a fiery liquid which was described by traders as "rum." it was as near rum as the white city is to heaven; that is to say, to the uncultivated taste it might have been rum, and anyway was as near to rum as the taster could expect to get. this is all there is to be said about the duc de sagosta, save that his headman swindled him, his soldiers were conscienceless natives committing acts of brigandage in his innocent name, whilst his chief at moanda was a peculating and incompetent scoundrel. at the time when the duc was finding life a bitter and humiliating experience, and had reached the stage when he sat on his predecessor's grave for company, a small and unauthorized party crossed the frontier from the british territories in search of adventure. now it happened that the particular region through which the border-line passed was governed by the chief of the greater m'fusi, who was a cannibal, a drunkard, and a master of two regiments. the duc had been advised not to interfere with the chief of his people, and he had (after one abortive and painful experience) obeyed his superiors, accepting the hut tax which was sent to him (and which was obviously and insolently inadequate) without demur. no white man journeyed to the city of the m'fusi without invitation from the chief, and as chief karata never issued such invitation, the greater m'fusi was a _terra incognita_ even to his excellency the governor-general of the central and western provinces. karata was a drunkard approaching lunacy. it was his whim for weeks on end to wear on his head the mask of a goat. at other times, "as a mark of his confidence in devils," he would appear hidden beneath a plaited straw extinguisher which fitted him from head to foot. he was eccentric in other ways which need not be particularized, but he was never so eccentric that he welcomed strangers. unfortunately for those concerned, the high road from the territories passed through the m'fusi drift. and one day there came a panting messenger from the keeper of the drift who flung himself down at the king's feet. "lord," said he, "there is a white man at the drift, and with him a certain chief and his men." "you will take the men, bringing them to me tied with ropes," said the king, who looked at the messenger with glassy eyes and found some difficulty in speaking, for he was at the truculent stage of his second bottle. the messenger returned and met the party on the road. what was his attitude towards the intruders it is impossible to say. he may have been insolent, secure in the feeling that he was representing his master's attitude towards white men; he may have offered fight in the illusion that the six warriors he took with him were sufficient to enforce the king's law. it is certain that he never returned. instead there came to the king's kraal a small but formidable party under a white man, and they arrived at a propitious moment, for the ground before the king's great hut was covered with square bottles, and the space in front of the palace was crowded with wretched men chained neck to neck and waiting to march to the coast and slavery. the white man pushed back his helmet. "goodness gracious heavens!" he exclaimed, "how perfectly horrid! bosambo, this is immensely illegal an' terrificly disgustin'." the chief of the ochori looked round. "dis feller be dam' bad," was his effort. bones walked leisurely to the shady canopy under which the king sat, and king karata stared stupidly at the unexpected vision. "o king," said bones in the akasavian vernacular which runs from dacca to the congo, "this is an evil thing that you do--against all law." open-mouthed karata continued to stare. to the crowded kraal, on prisoner and warrior, councillor and dancing woman alike, came a silence deep and unbroken. they heard the words spoken in a familiar tongue, and marvelled that a white man should speak it. bones was carrying a stick and taking deliberate aim, and after two trial strokes he brought the nobbly end round with a "swish!" a bottle of square-face smashed into a thousand pieces, and there arose on the hot air the sickly scent of crude spirits. fascinated, silent, motionless, king karata, named not without reason "the terrible," watched the destruction as bottle followed bottle. then as a dim realization of the infamy filtered through his thick brain, he rose with a growl like a savage animal, and bones turned quickly. but bosambo was quicker. one stride brought him to the king's side. "down, dog!" he said. "o karata, you are very near the painted hut where dead kings lie." the king sank back and glared to and fro. all that was animal in him told of his danger; he smelt death in the mirthless grin of the white man; he smelt it as strongly under the hand of the tall native wearing the monkey-tails of chieftainship. if they would only stand away from him they would die quickly enough. let them get out of reach, and a shout, an order, would send them bloodily to the ground with little kicks and twitches as the life ran out of them. but they stood too close, and that order of his meant his death. "o white man," he began. "listen, black man," said bosambo, and lapsed into his english; "hark um, you dam' black nigger--what for you speak um so?" "you shall say 'master' to me, karata," said bones easily, "for in my land 'white man' is evil talk."[8] [footnote 8: in most native countries "white man" is seldom employed save as a piece of insolence. it is equivalent to the practice of referring to the natives as niggers.] "master," said the king sullenly, "this is a strange thing--for i see that you are english and we be servants of another king. also it is forbidden that any white--that any master should stand in my kraal without my word, and i have driven even igselensi from my face." "that is all foolish talk, karata," said bones. "this is good talk: shall karata live or shall he die? this you shall say. if you send away this palaver and say to your people that we are folk whom you desire shall live in the shadow of the king's hut, then you live. let him say less than this, bosambo, and you strike quickly." the king looked from face to face. bones had his hand in the uniform jacket pocket. bosambo balanced his killing-spear on the palm of his hand, the chief saw with the eye of an expert that the edge was razor sharp. then he turned to the group whom bones had motioned away when he started to speak to the king. "this palaver is finished," he said, "and the white lord stays in my hut for a night." "good egg," said bones as the crowd streamed from the kraal. senhor bonaventura heard of the arrival of a white man at the chief's great kraal and was not perturbed, because there were certain favourite traders who came to the king from time to time. he was more concerned by the fact that a labour draft of eight hundred men who had been promised by karata had not yet reached moanda, but frantic panic came from the remarkable information of karata's eccentricities which had reached him from his lieutenant. the duc's letter may be reproduced. "illustrious and excellent senhor, "it is with joy that i announce to you the most remarkable reformation of king karata. the news was brought to me that the king had received a number of visitors of an unauthorized character, and though i had, as i have reported to you, illustrious and excellent senhor, the most unpleasant experience at the hands of the king, i deemed it advisable to go to the city of the greater m'fusi and conduct an inquiry. "i learnt that the king had indeed received the visitors, and that they had departed on the morning of my arrival carrying with them one of their number who was sick. with this party was a white man. but the most remarkable circumstance, illustrious and excellent senhor, was that the king had called a midnight palaver of his councillors and high people of state and had told them that the strangers had brought news of such sorrowful character that for four moons it would be forbidden to look upon his face. at the end of that period he would disappear from the earth and become a god amongst the stars. "at these words, illustrious and excellent senhor, the king with some reluctance took from one of the strangers a bag in which two eyes had been cut, and pulled it over his head and went back into his hut. "since then he has done many remarkable things. he has forbidden the importation of drink, and has freed all labour men to their homes. he has nominated zifingini, the elder chief of the m'fusi, to be king after his departure, and has added another fighting regiment to his army. "he is quite changed, and though they cannot see his face and he has banished all his wives, relatives and councillors to a distant village, he is more popular than ever. "illustrious and excellent senhor, i feel that at last i am seeing the end of the old rã©gime and that we may look forward to a period of sobriety and prosperity in the m'fusi. "receive the assurance, illustrious and excellent senhor, of my distinguished consideration." his excellency went purple and white. "holy mother!" he spluttered apoplectically, "this is ruin!" with trembling hands he wrote a telegram. translated in its sense it was to this effect-"recall de sagosta without fail or there will be nothing doing on pay day." he saw this dispatched on its way, and returned to his bureau. he picked up the duc's letter and read it again: then he saw there was a postscript. "p.s.--in regard to the strangers who visited the king, the man they carried away on a closed litter was very sick indeed, according to the accounts of woodmen who met the party. he was raving at the top of his voice, but the white man was singing very loudly. "p.ss.--i have just heard, illustrious and excellent senhor, that the hooded king (as his people call him) has sent off all his richest treasures and many others which he has taken from the huts of his deported relatives to one bosambo, who is a chief of the ochori in british territory, and is distantly related to senhor sanders, the commissioner of that territory." the end transcriber's note: minor changes have been made to correct typesetter's errors; in all other respects, every effort has been made to be true to the author's words and intent. the island of gold a sailor's yarn by gordon stables illustrations by allan stewart published by thomas nelson and sons, london, edinburgh and new york. the island of gold, by gordon stables. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ the island of gold, by gordon stables. book 1--chapter one. two mitherless bairns. ransey tansey was up much earlier than usual on this particular morning, because father was coming home, and there was a good deal to do. as he crawled out of his bed--a kind of big box arrangement at the farther end of the one-roomed cottage--he gave a glance towards the corner where babs slept in an elongated kind of basket, which by courtesy might have been called a bassinette. yes, babs was sound and fast, and that was something ransey tansey had to be thankful for. he bent over her for a few seconds, listening as if to make sure she was alive; for this wee three-year-old was usually awake long before this, her eyes as big as saucers, and carrying on an animated conversation with herself in lieu of any other listener. the boy gave a kind of satisfied sigh, and drew the coverlet over her bare arm. then he proceeded to dress; while bob, a beautiful, tailless english sheep-dog, lay near the low hearth watching his every movement, with his shaggy head cocked a trifle to one side, as if he had his considering cap on. in summer time--and it was early summer now--dressing did not take ransey long. when he opened the door at last to fetch some sticks to light the fire, and stood for a moment shading his brow with his hand against the red light of the newly-risen sun, and gazing eastwards over a landscape of fields and woods, he looked a strange little figure. moreover, one could understand now why he had taken such a short few minutes to dress. the fact is, ransey tansey hadn't very much to wear just then. barely eight years of age was tansey, though, as far as experience of the world went, he might have been called three times as old as that; for, alas, the world had not been over-gentle with the boy. ransey wore no cap, just a head of towy hair, which was thick enough, however, to protect him against summer's sun or winter's cold. the upper part of his body was arrayed in a blue serge shirt, very much open at the neck; while below his waist, and extending to within nine inches of his bare feet, where they ended in ragged capes and promontories like a map of norway, he wore a pair of pants. it would have been difficult, indeed, to have guessed at the original colour of these pants, but they were now a kind of tawny brindle, and that is the nearest i can get to it. they were suspended by one brace, a bright red one, so broad that it must have belonged to his father. i think the boy was rather proud than otherwise of this suspender, although it had a disagreeable trick of sliding down over his shoulder and causing some momentary disarrangement of his attire. but ransey just hooked it back into its place again with his thumb, and all was right, till the next time. a rough little tyke you might have called ransey tansey, with his sun-burnt face, neck, and bosom. yet there was something that was rather pleasing than otherwise in his clear eyes and open countenance; and when his red and rather thin lips parted in a smile, which they very often did, he showed a set of teeth as clean and white as those of a six-months-old saint bernard puppy, and you cannot better that. had this little lad been a town boy, hands and face and feet would have been far from clean; but ransey lived away down in the cool, green country, in a midland district of merrie england, and being as often in the water as a duck, he was just as clean as one. away went ransey tansey now, and opened a rough old door in a rock which formed part of the hill by the side of which the humble cottage stood. the door opened into a kind of cave, which was a storehouse for all kinds of things. he was soon back again, and in five minutes' time had lit the fire, swept the hearth as tidily as a girl could have done it, and hung the kettle on a hook and chain. by this time another member of this small family came in, a very large and handsome tabby cat, with a white chest and vandyked face. murrams, as he was called, was holding his head very high indeed. in fact he had to, else the nice young leveret he carried would have trailed on the ground. bob jumped up to meet him, with joy in his brown eyes. had bob possessed a tail of any consequence, he would have wagged it. bob's tail, however, was a mere stump, and it was quite buried in the rough, shaggy coat that hung over his rump. but though honest bob had only the fag-end of a tail, so to speak, he agitated this considerably when pleased. he did so when he saw that leveret. "oh, you clever old murrams!" bob seemed to say. "what a nice drop of soup that'll make, and all the bones for me!" murrams walked gingerly past him, and throwing the leveret on the hearth, proceeded to wash his face and warm his nose at the blaze. ransey put away the young hare, patted pussy on his broad, sleek forehead, then took down a long tin can to go for the morning's milk. he left the door open, because he knew that if babs should awake and scramble out of her cot, she would toddle right out to clutch at wild flowers, beetles, and other things, instead of going towards the fire. ransey tansey happened to look round when he was about thirty yards from the cottage. why, here was bob coming softly up behind. murrams himself couldn't have walked more silently. his ears disappeared backwards when he was found out, and he looked very guilty indeed. ransey tansey shook his finger at him. "back ye goes--back ye goes to look after babs." bob lay down to plead. "it ain't no go, bob, i tell ye," continued ransey tansey, still shaking his finger. "back to babs, bob--back to babs. we can't both on us leave the house at the same time." this latter argument was quite convincing, and back marched bob, with drooping head and with that fag-end of a tail of his drooping earthwards also. there grew on the top of the bank a solitary brown-stemmed pine-tree. very, very tall it was, with not a branch all the way up save a very strong horizontal limb, which was used to hang people from in the happy days of old. the top of this tree was peculiar. it spread straight out on all sides, forming a kind of flat table of darkest green needled foliage. had you been sketching this tree, then, after doing the stem, you could easily have rubbed in the top of it by dipping your little finger in ink and smudging the paper crosswise. when not far from this gibbet-tree, as it was generally called, ransey looked up and hailed,-"ship ahoy! are ye on board, admiral?" and now a somewhat strange thing happened. no sooner had the boy hailed than down from a mass of central foliage there suddenly hung what, at first sight, one might have taken for a snake. it was really a bird's long neck. "craik--craik--crik--cr--cr--cray!" "all right," cried ransey, as if he understood every word. "ye mebbe don't see nuthin' o' father, do ye?" "tok--tok--tok--cr--cray--ay!" "well, ye needn't flop down, admiral. i'll come up myself." no lamplighter ever ran quicker up a ladder than did ransey tansey swarm up that pine-tree. in little over two minutes he was right out on the green roof, and beside him one of the most graceful and beautiful cranes it is possible to imagine. the boy's father had bought the bird from a sailor somewhere down the country; and, except on very stormy nights, it preferred to roost in this tree. the neck was a greyish blue, as was also the back; the wings were dark, the legs jet black, the tail purple. around the eyes was a broad patch of crimson; and the bill was as long as a penholder, more or less slender, and slightly curved downwards at the end. [a species of what is popularly known an the dancing crane.] the admiral did all he could to express the pleasure he felt at seeing the boy, by a series of movements that i find it difficult to describe. the wings were half extended and quivering with delight, the neck forming a series of beautiful curves, the head at times high in air, and next moment down under ransey's chin. then he twisted his neck right round the boy's neck, from left to right, then from right to left, the head being laid lovingly each time against his little master's cheek. "now then, admiral, when ye're quite done cuddlin' of me, we'll have a look for father's barge." from his elevated coign of vantage, ransey tansey could see for many miles all around him. on this bright, sunny summer morn, it was a landscape of infinite beauty; on undulating, well-wooded, cultivated country, green and beautiful everywhere, except in the west, where a village sheltered itself near the horizon, nestling in a cloudland of trees, from which the grey flat tower of a church looked up. to the left yonder, and near to the church, was a long strip of silver-the canal. high on a wooded hill stood the lord of the manor's house, solid, brown, and old, with the blue smoke therefrom trailing lazily along across the tree-tops. but the house nearest to ransey's was some distance across the fields yonder--an old-fashioned brick farm-building with a steading behind it, every bit of it green with age. "so ye can't see no signs o' father, or the barge, eh? look again, admiral; your neck's a bit longer'n mine." "tok--tok--tok--cray!" "well, i'm off down. there's the milk to fetch yet; and if i don't hurry up, bob and babs are sure to make a mess on't afore i gets back. mornin' to ye, admiral." and ransey tansey slid down that tree far more quickly even than he had swarmed up it. scattering the dew from the grass and the milk-white clover with his naked feet, the lad went trotting on, and very quickly reached the farm. he had to stop once or twice by the way, however. first, towsey, the short-horned bull, put his great head over a five-barred gate, and ransey had to pause to scratch it. then he met the peacock, who insisted on instant recognition, and walked back with him till the two were met by snap, the curly-coated retriever. "i don't like snap," said the peacock. "i won't go a bit further. the ugly brute threatened to snap my head off; that's the sort of snap he is." the farmer's wife was fat and jolly looking. "well, how's all the family?" "oh, they're all right, ye know; especially babs, 'cause she's asleep. and we kind of expect father to-day. but even the admiral can't see 'im, with _his_ long neck." she filled his can, and took the penny. that was only business; but the kindly soul had slyly slipped two turkey's eggs into the can before she poured in the milk. when he got back to his home, the first thing he saw was that crane, half hopping, half flying round and round the gibbet-tree. the fact of the matter is this: the bird did not wish to go far away from the house just yet, as he generally followed his little master to the brook or stream; but, nevertheless, on this particularly fine morning he found himself possessed of an amount of energy that must be expended somehow, so he went hopping round the tree, dangling his head and long neck in the drollest and most ridiculous kind of way imaginable. ransey tansey had to place his milk-can on the ground in order to laugh with greater freedom. the most curious part of the business was this: crane though he was, wheeling madly round like this made him dizzy, so every now and then he stopped and danced round the other way. the admiral caught flies wherever he saw them; but flies, though all very well in their way, were mere tit-bits. presently he would have a few frogs for breakfast, and the bird was just as fond of frogs as a frenchman is. ransey tansey opened the door of the little cottage very quietly, and peeped in. bob was there by the bassinette. he agitated that fag-end of a tail of his, and looked happy. murrams paused in the act of washing his ears, with one paw held aloft. he began to sing, because he knew right well there was milk in that can, and that he would have a share of it. babs's blue eyes had been on the smoke-grimed ceiling, but she lowered them now. "oh," she said, "you's tome back, has 'oo?" "and babs has been so good, hasn't she?" said ransey. "babs is dood, and bob is dood, and murrams is dooder. 'ift [lift] me up twick, 'ansey." two plump little arms were extended towards her brother, and presently he was seated near the fire dressing her, as if he had been to the manner born. there was a little face to wash presently, as well as two tiny hands and arms; but that could be done after they had all had breakfast. "oh, my!" cried ransey tansey; "look, babs! two turkey's eggs in the bottom of the can!" "oh, my! 'ansey," echoed the child. "one tu'key's egg fo' me, and one fo' 'oo." the door had been left half ajar, and presently about a yard of long neck was thrust round the edge, and the admiral looked lovingly at the eggs, first with one roguish eye, then with the other. this droll crane had a weakness for eggs--strange, perhaps, but true. when he found one, he tossed it high in air, and in descending caught it cleverly. next second there was an empty egg-shell on the ground, and some kind of a lump sliding slowly down the admiral's extended gullet. when it was fairly landed, the bird expressed his delight by dancing a double-triple fandango, which was partly jig, partly hornpipe, and all the rest a highland schottische. "get out, admiral!--get out, i tell ye!" cried the boy. "w'y, ye stoopid, if the door slams, off goes yer head." the bird seemed to fully appreciate the danger, and at once withdrew. ransey placed the two turkey's eggs on a shelf near the little gable window. one pane of glass was broken, and was stuffed with hay. well, the admiral had been watching the boy, and as soon as his back was turned, it didn't take the bird long to pull out that hay. "o 'ansey, 'ook! 'ook!" cried babs. it was too late, however, for looking to do any good. for the same yard of neck that had, a few minutes before, appeared round the edge of the doorway, was now thrust through the broken pane, and only one turkey's egg was left. babs looked very sad. she considered for a bit, then said solemnly,-"'oo mus' have the odel [other] tu'key's _egg_. you is dooder nor me." but ransey didn't have it. he contented himself with bread and milk. and so the two mitherless bairns had breakfast. book 1--chapter two. life in the woods. i trust that, from what he has already seen and heard of ransey tansey, the reader will not imagine i desire this little hero of mine to pose as a real saint. boys should be boys while they have the chance. alas, they shall grow up into men far too soon, and then they needn't go long journeys to seek for sorrow; they will find it near home. and now i think, reader, you and i understand each other, to some extent at all events. though i believe he was always manly and never mean, yet, as his biographer, i am bound to confess that there was just as much monkey-mischief to the square inch about ransey tansey, as about any boy to whom i have ever had the honour of being introduced. it was said of the immortal george washington that when a boy at school he climbed out of a bedroom window and robbed a wall fruit tree, because the other boys were cowards and afraid to do so. but george refused to eat even a bite of one of these apples himself. i think that ransey tansey could have surpassed young washington; for not only would he have taken the apples, but eaten his own share of them afterwards. to do him justice, however, i must state that on occasions when his father went in the barge to a distant town on business, as he had been now for over a week, ransey being left in charge of his tiny sister and the whole establishment, the sense of his great responsibility kept him entirely free from mischief. now a very extraordinary thing happened on this particular morning-ransey tansey received a letter. the postman was sulky, to say the least of it. "pretty thing," he said, as he flung the letter with scant ceremony in through the open doorway; "pretty thing as i should have to come three-quarters of a mile round to fetch a letter to the likes o' you!" "now, look 'ee here," said ransey, "if ye're good and brings my letters every day, and hangs yer stockin' out at christmas-time, i may put somethin' in it." "gur long, ye ragged young nipper!" ransey was dandling babs upon his knee, but he now put her gently down beside the cat. then he jumped up. "i'se got to teach you a lesson," he said to the boorish postman, "on the hadvantages o' civeelity. i ain't agoin' to waste a good pertater on such a sconce as yours, don't be afeard; but 'ere's an old turmut [turnip] as'll meet the requirements o' the occasion." it was indeed an old turnip, and well aimed too, for it caught the postman on the back of the neck and covered him with slush from head to toe. the lout yelled with rage, and flew at ransey stick in hand. next moment, and before he could deal the boy a blow, he was lying flat on the grass, with bob standing triumphantly over him growling like a wild wolf. "call off yer dog, and i won't say no more about it." "oh, ye won't, won't ye? i calls that wery considerate. but look 'ee here, i ain't agoin' to call bob off, until ye begs my parding in a spirit o' humility, as t'old parson says. if ye don't, i'll hiss bob on to ye, and ye'll be a raggeder nipper nor me afore bob's finished the job to his own satisfaction." well, discretion is the better part of valour, and after grumbling out an apology, the postman was allowed to sneak off with a whole skin. then ransey kissed bob's shaggy head, and opened his letter. "dear sonnie,--can't get home before four days. look after babs. your loving father." that was all. the writing certainly left something to be desired, but it being the first letter the boy had ever received, he read it twice over to himself and twice over to babs; then he put it away inside his new testament. "hurrah, babs!" he cried, picking the child up again, and swinging her to and fro till she laughed and kicked and crowed with delight--"hurrah, babs! we'll all away to the woods. murrams shall keep house, and we'll take our dinner with us." it was a droll procession. first walked bob, looking extremely solemn and wise, and carrying ransey's fishing-rod. close behind him came the tall and graceful crane, not quite so solemn as bob; for he was catching flies, and his head and neck were in constant motion, and every now and then he would hop, first on one leg, and then on the other. ransey tansey himself brought up the rear, with a small bag slung in front of him, and babs in a shawl on his back. away to the woods? yes; and there was a grand little stream there, and the boy knew precisely where the biggest fish lay, and meant to have some for supper. the leveret could hang for a few days. arrived at his fishing-ground, where the stream swept slowly through the darkling wood, ransey lowered his back-burden gently on the moss, and lay down on his face in front of her to talk babs into the best of tempers. this was not difficult to do, for she was really a good-natured child; so he gave her his big clasp-knife and his whistle, and proceeded to get his rod in order and make a cast. bob lay down beside the tiny mite to guard her. she could whistle herself, but couldn't get bob to do the same, although she rammed the whistle halfway down his throat, and afterwards showed him how she did it. well, there are a few accomplishments that dogs cannot attain to, and i believe whistling is one of them. the fish were very kind to-day, and ransey was making a very good bag. whenever he had finished fishing in about forty yards of stream, he threw down his rod and trotted off back for babs, and placed her down about twenty yards ahead of him, fished another forty yards and changed her position again, bob always following close at the boy's heels and lying down beside his charge, and permitting himself to be pulled about, and teased, and cuddled, and kissed one moment, and hammered over the nose with that tin whistle the next. even when babs tried to gouge his eye out with a morsel of twig, he only lifted his head and licked her face till, half-blinded, she had to drop the stick and tumble on her back. "you's a funny dog, bob," she said; "'oor tisses is so lough [rough]." of course they were. he meant them to be, for bob couldn't afford to lose an eye. i think the admiral enjoyed himself quite as much as any one. he chose a bit of the stream for himself where the bank was soft, and there he waded and fished for goodness only knows what--beetles, minnows, tiny frogs, anything alive and easy to swallow. i don't think, however, that the admiral was a very good judge of his swallowing capabilities. that neck of his was so very, very long, and though distensible enough on the whole, sometimes he encountered difficulties that it was almost impossible to surmount. tadpoles slid down easily enough, so did flies and other tiny insects; but a too-big frog, if invited to go down head-foremost, often had a disagreeable way of throwing his hind-legs out at right angles to the entrance of the admiral's gullet. this placed the admiral in a somewhat awkward predicament. no bird can look his best with its beak held forcibly agape, and the two legs of a disorderly frog sticking out one at each side. the crane would hold his head in the air and consider for a bit, then lower his face against the bank and rub one leg in, then change cheeks and rub the other in; but lo! while doing so, leg number one would be kicked out again, and by the time that was replaced out shot leg number two. it was very annoying and ridiculous. so the admiral would step cautiously on to the green bank, and stride very humbly down the stream to ransey tansey, with his neck extended and his head on a level with his shoulders. "you see the confounded fix i'm in," he would say, looking up at his master with one wonderfully wise eye. then ransey would pull out the frog, and the little rascal would hop away, laughing to himself apparently. "crok--crok--cray--ay!" the admiral would cry, and go joyfully back to his fishing-ground. but sometimes mr crane would swallow a big water-beetle, and if this specimen had a will of its own, as beetles generally have, it would catch hold of the side of the gullet and hang on halfway down. "i ain't going another step," the beetle would say; "it isn't good enough. the road is too long and too dark." so this disobliging beetle would just stop there, making a kind of a mump in the poor admiral's neck. when ransey saw his droll pet stride out of the pool and walk solemnly towards a tree and lean his head against it, and close his eyes, the lad knew pretty well what was the matter. there is nothing like patience and plenty of it, and presently the beetle would go to sleep, relax its hold, and slip quietly down to regions unknown. there would be no more mump now, and the crane would suddenly take leave of his senses with joy. "kaik--kaik--kay--ay?" he would scream, and go madly hopping and dancing round the tree, a most weird and uncanny-looking object, raising one leg at a time as high as he could, and swinging his head and neck fore and aft, low and aloft, from starboard to port, in such a droll way that ransey tansey felt impelled to throw himself on his back, so as to laugh without bursting that much-prized solitary suspender of his, while bob sat up to bark, and babs clapped her tiny hands and crowed. -----------------------------------------------------------------------ransey got tired of fishing at last, and made up his rod. there was some sort of silent joy or happiness away down at the bottom of the boy's heart, and for a moment he couldn't make out what was causing it. the big haul of fish he had caught? oh, no; that was a common exploit. having smashed the postman with a mushy turnip? that was capital, of course, but that wasn't it. ah! now he has remembered--father was coming home in four days. hurrah! he must have some fun on the head of it. ransey loved to have a good time. but, duty first. babs was a good little girl--or a "dood 'ittle dirl," as she phrased it--but even good girls get hungry sometimes. babs must be fed. she held her arms straight out towards him. "babs is detting tired," she lisped. so he took her up, kissed her, and made much of her for a minute, then set her against a tree where the moss was green and soft. with a bit of string and a burdock leaf he made her a beautiful bib; for though ransey himself was scantily attired, the child was really prettily dressed. and now the boy produced a pickle bottle from the luncheon bag, likewise a small horn spoon. the pickle bottle contained a pap of bread and milk; and with this he proceeded to feed babs somewhat after the manner of cramming turkeys, until she shook her head at last, and declared she would _never_ eat any more--"never, never, _never_!" there was a turnip-field not far off. now bob was as fond of raw turnips as his master. he knew where the field was, too. "off ye go for a turmut, bob; and mind ye bring a big 'un. i'll look after babs till ye comes back." bob wasn't long gone. he had obeyed his master's instructions to the very letter--in fact, he had pulled more than six turnips before he found one to please him. [it is easy to teach a dog this trick, only stupid farmer folks sometimes don't see the fun of it. farmer folks are obtuse.--g.s.] that "turmut" made bob and ransey an excellent luncheon, and babs had a slice to amuse herself with. the day was delightfully warm, and the wind soft and balmy. the sunshine filtered down through a great beech-tree, and wherever it fell the grass was a brighter green or the dead leaves a lighter brown. now and then a may beetle would go droning past; there were flies of all sorts and sizes, from the gnats that danced in thousands over the bushes to the great rainbow-like dragonfly that darted hither and thither across the stream; grasshoppers green and brown that alighted on a leaf one moment, gave a click the next, and hurled themselves into space; a blackbird making wild melody not far off; the bold lilt of a chaffinch; the insolent mocking notes of a thrush; and the coo-cooing of wood-pigeons sounding mournfully from a thicket beyond the stream. high up in that beech-tree myriads of bees were humming, though they could not be seen. no wonder that under such sweet drowsy influences babs began to wink and wink, and blink and blink, till finally her wee head fell forward on her green-bough bib. babs was sound asleep. book 1--chapter three. "o eedie, i've found a child." ransey tansey took his tiny sister tenderly up and spread her, as it were, on the soft moss. "she's in for a regular forenooner, bob," said the boy, "and i'm not sure i don't like babs just as well when she is asleep. seems so innercent-like, you know." bob looked as if he really did understand, and tried by means of his brown eyes and that fag-end of a tail to let his master know that he too liked babs best asleep, because then no attempts were made to gouge his eyes out with pieces of stick, or to ram the business end of a tin whistle halfway down his throat. "bob!" said ransey. "yes, master," said bob, raising his ears. "babs is a sailor's darter, ye know." bob assented. "well, she ought'er sleep in a hammock." "to be sure. i hadn't thought of that," said bob. "i can make one in a brace o' shakes, and that's sailor langwidge. now just keep your eyes on me, bob." ransey tansey was busy enough for the next five minutes. he took that shepherd-tartan shawl, and by means of some pieces of string, which he never went abroad without, soon fashioned it into a neat little hammock. two saplings grew near, and by bending a branch downward from each, he slung that hammock so prettily that he was obliged to stand back for a little while to smile and admire it. when he lifted babs and put her in it, and fastened the two sides of the hammock across her chest with some more string and a horse-shoe nail, so that she could not fall out, the whole affair was complete. "hush-a-bye, baby, upon the tree-top, when the wind blown the cradle will rock." well, the wind did blow, but ever so softly, and the little hammock swayed gently to and fro. and the blackbird's voice seemed to sound more melodiously now; the thrush went farther away; only the wild pigeons continued to coo, coo, and the bees to hum, high, high up in the green beech-tree. no wonder that the baby slept. "come along now, bob. we've a whole hour at least." the boy placed his rod and bag on the branches of a tree. "a whole hour, bob, to do as we likes. no good me askin' that idiot of an admiral to watch babs. he'd only begin scray-scrayin' and hopping around the hammock, and babs would wake. i'm goin' to run wild for a bit, are you?" and off he bounded, with bob at his heels. the admiral, whose feet were getting cold now, hopped out of the stream, stretched out his three-foot neck, and looked after them. "they think they're going to leave me behind, do they? tok--tok-tok,"--which in craneish language means "no--no--no." so away _he_ went next, with his head and his long neck about a yard in front of him, and his wings expanded. it would have puzzled any one to have told whether the admiral was running or flying. if ransey tansey climbed one tree he climbed a dozen. ransey walked through the wood with upturned face, and whenever he saw a nest, whether it belonged to magpie, hawk, or hooded crow, skywards he went to have a look at it. he liked to look at the eggs best, and sometimes he brought just one down in his mouth if four were left behind, because, he thought, one wouldn't be missed. but even this was sinful; for although birds are not very good arithmeticians, every one of them can count as far as the number of its eggs--even a partridge or a wren can. sometimes the admiral wanted to investigate the nests, but ransey sternly forbade him. he might dance round the tree as much as he liked, but he must not fly up. bob used to bark at his master as he climbed up and up. indeed, when perched on the very, _very_ top of a tall larch-tree ransey himself didn't look much bigger than a rook. yet i think the ever-abiding sorrow with bob was not that he had not a tail worth talking about, but that he could not climb a tree. different birds behaved in different ways when ransey visited their nests. thus: a linnet or a robin, flying from its sweet, cosy little home in a bush of orange-scented furze, would sit and sing at no great distance in a half-hysterical kind of way, as if it really didn't know what it was about. a blackbird from a tall thorn-tree or baby spruce, would go scurrying off, and make the woods resound with her cries of "beet, beet, beet," till other birds, crouching low on their nests, trembled with fear lest their turn might come next. a hooded crow would fly off some distance and perch on a tree, but say nothing: hooded crows are philosophers. a magpie went but a little distance away, and sat nodding and chickering in great distress. a hawk would course round and round in great circles in the air, uttering every now and then a most distressful scream. but one day, i must tell you, a large hawk played the lad a very mischievous trick. ransey was high up near the top of a tall, stone-pine-tree, and had hold of a sturdy branch above, being just about to swing himself in through the needled foliage, when, lo! the stump on which one foot was resting gave way, leaving him suspended betwixt heaven and earth, like mohammed's coffin--and kicking too, because he could not for some time swing himself into the tree. now that hawk needn't have been so precious nasty about it. but he saw his chance, and went for ransey straight; and the more the boy shouted at the hawk, and cried "hoosh-oo!" at him, the more that hawk wouldn't leave off. he tore the boy's shirt and back, and cut his suspender right through, so that with the kicking and struggling his poor little pants came off and fluttered down to the ground. ransey tansey was only second best that day, and when--a sadder and a wiser boy--he reached the foot of the tree, he found that bob had been engaged in funeral rites--obsequies--for some time. in fact, he had scraped a hole beneath a furze bush and buried ransey's pants. whether bob had thought this was all that remained of his master or not, i cannot say. i only state facts. but to hark back: after ransey tansey had seen all the nests he wanted to see, he and his two companions rushed off to a portion of the wood where, near the bank of the stream, he kept his toy ship under a moss-covered boulder. he had built this ship, fashioning her out of a pine-log with his knife, and rigged her all complete as well as his somewhat limited nautical knowledge permitted him to do. in ransey's eyes she was a beauty-without paint. before he launched her to-day he looked down at bob and across at the admiral, who was quite as tall as the boy. "we're going on a long and dangerous voyage, bob," he said. "there's no sayin' wot may happen. we may run among rocks and get smashed; we may get caught-aback-like and flounder,"--he meant founder--"or go down wi' all han's in the bay o' biscay--o." bob tried to appear as solemn and sad as the occasion demanded, and let his fag-end drop groundwards. but the crane only said "tok," which on this occasion meant "all humbug!" for he knew well enough that ransey tansey was seldom to be taken seriously. never mind, the barque was launched on the fathomless deep, the summer breeze filled her sails--which, by the way, had been made out of a piece of an old shirt of the boy's father's--and she breasted the billows like a thing of life. then as those three young inseparables rushed madly and delightedly along the bank to keep abreast of the ship, never surely was such whooping and barking and scray-scraying heard in the woods before. but disaster followed in the wake of that bonnie barque on this voyage. i suppose the helmsman forgot to put his helm up at an ugly bend of the river, so the wind caught her dead aback. she flew stern-foremost through the water at a furious rate, then her bows rose high in air, she struggled but for a moment ere down she sank to rise no more, and all on board must have perished! when i say she sank to rise no more i am hardly in alignment with the truth. the fact is, that although ransey tansey could easily have made another ship with that knife of his, he was afraid he could not requisition some more shirt for sails. "oh, i ain't agoin' to lose her like that, bob," said ransey. bob was understood to say that _he_ wouldn't either. "admiral, ye're considerabul longer nor me in the legs and neck; couldn't ye wade out and make a dive for her?" the crane only said, "tok!" by this time ransey was undressed. "hoop!" he cried, "here goes," and in he dived. "wowff!" cried bob, "here's for after," and in _he_ sprang next. "kaik--kaik!" shrieked the crane, and followed his leader, but he speedily got out again. the water was deep, and as a swimmer the admiral was somewhat of a failure. but the barque was raised all and whole, and after a good swim ransey and bob returned to the bank. bob shook himself, making little rainbows all round him, and the boy rolled in the moss till he was dry, but stained rather green. then he dressed himself, and looked at his watch--that is, he looked at the sun. "why, bob," he cried, "it is time to go back to babs." -----------------------------------------------------------------------it was such a lovely forenoon that day that the elderly miss scragley thought a walk in the woods and wilds--as she phrased it--would do her good. so she took her little six-year-old niece eedie with her, and started. the butler wanted to know if he would send a groom with her. but she declined the service. "it is ever so much better," she told eedie, "going all alone and enjoying things, than having a dressed-up doll of a flunkey dawdling behind you carrying wraps." i think miss scragley was right. the scragleys were a very old family, and that was their mansion i have already mentioned as standing high up on the hill in a cloudland of glorious trees. but excepting miss scragley herself, and this little niece, miss eedie moore, the rest of the scragleys were all dead and away. though the family estates were intact and financially secure, afflictions of all sorts had decimated the scragleys. no less than two had died on the hunting-field; one, a soldier, had fallen on the field of fame in far afghanistan; another, a captain in the royal navy, had succumbed to fever at sea; and still another had sailed away in a ship that never returned. others had died in peace and at home. so miss scragley was indeed a relic of the past, but she was lord of the manor for the time being. her heart was bound up in little eedie; and the girl would have to change her name when of age, as she would then be heir to all the scragley estates. even if she married, her husband must become a scragley. it would never do to let the glorious name of scragley die out. but miss scragley was somewhat antiquated though not very old; somewhat set up and starchy in manner too. she preferred to import good people from london to mixing with the residents around, with the exception of the kindly-faced, white-haired old rector, captain weathereye, r.n., and dr fairincks. in bygone ages it was currently believed that this rough old sea-dog of a captain, weathereye would lead the then graceful miss scragley to the altar, and the lady herself still believed that the happy event would yet come off. and she was quite gay when she thought of it. at christmas-time, when she imported more good people from london than usual, and turned on the family ghost for the occasion, when she had the special brand of port decanted that old weathereye so dearly loved, and when scragley hall resounded with mirth and laughter, and was lighted up from basement to attics, miss scragley nursed the fond hope that the captain was almost sure to pop the question. old captain weathereye praised the port. but--well, he loved to hear corks popping, only he wouldn't pop himself. poor miss scragley! "i wonder will he _ever_?" she used to remark to herself, when she had finished saying her prayers and was preparing to undress--"ever--_ever_?" "never--never," old weathereye would have unfeelingly replied had he heard her. on this particular occasion miss scragley extended her walk far into the very wood--forest, she romantically called it--where ransey tansey and his pets were enjoying themselves. she and her niece wandered on and on by the banks of the stream, till they came to the place where little babs lay, still sound asleep in her hammock, and this was swaying gently to and fro in the summer wind. "o eedie!" cried miss scragley, "why, i've found a child!" "oh, the wee darling!" exclaimed eedie; "mayn't i kiss it, auntie?" "if you kissed it," said the lady, as if she knew all about babies and could write a book about them--"if you kissed it, dear, it would awake, and the creature's yells would resound through the dark depths of the forest." "but there is no one near," she continued; "it must be deserted by its unfeeling parents, and left here to perish." she went a little nearer now and looked down on the sleeping child's face. a very pretty face it was, the rosy lips parted, the flush of sleep upon her face; and one wee chubby hand and arm was lying bare on the shawl. "oh dear!" cried miss scragley, "i feel strangely agitated. i cannot let the tiny angel perish in the silvan gloom. i must--_you_ must, eedie--well, _we_ must, dear, carry it home with us." "oh, will ye, though?" the voice was close behind her. "just you leave babs alone, and attend to yer own bizness, else bob will have somethin' till say to ye." miss scragley started, as well she might. "oh," she cried, looking round now, "an absurd little gipsy boy!" "_yes_," said ransey tansey, touching his forelock, "and i'm sorry for bein' so absurd. and ashamed all-so. if a rabbit's hole was handy, i'd soon pop in. but, bless yer beautiful ladyship, if i'd known i was to 'ave the perleasure o' meetin' quality, i'd 'ave put on my dress soot, and carried my crush hat under my arm. "don't be afeard, mum," he continued, as the crane came hopping out of the bush. "that's only just the admiral; and this is bob, as would die for me or babs." "and who is babs, you droll boy?" "babs is my baby, and no one else's 'cept bob's. and bob and i would make it warm for anybody as tried to take babs away. wouldn't us, bob?" just then his little sister awoke, all smiles and dimples as usual. ransey tansey went to talk to her, and for a time the boy forgot all the world except babs. book 1--chapter four. "ransey, fetch jim; we're goin' on." "i'se glad 'oo's tome back, 'ansey. has i been afeep [asleep], 'ansey?" "oh, yes; and now i'm goin' to feed babs, and babs'll lie and look at the trees till i cook dinner for bob and me." "that wady [lady] won't take babs away, 'ansey?" "no, babs, no." ransey tansey fed babs once more from the pickle bottle with the horn spoon, much to miss scragley's and little eedie's astonishment and delight. then he commenced to build a fire at a little distance, and laid out some fish all ready to cook as soon as the blazing wood should die down to red embers. "you're a very interesting boy," said miss scragley politely. "may i look on while you cook?" "oh, yes, mum. sorry i ain't got a chair to offer ye." "and oh, please, interesting boy," begged eedie, "may i talk to babs?" "cer--tain--lee, pretty missie.--babsie, sweet," he added, "talk to this beautiful young lady." "there's no charge for sittin' on the grass, mum," said ransey the next minute. and down sat miss scragley smiling. the boy proceeded with the preparation of the meal in real gipsy fashion. he cooked fish, and he roasted potatoes. he hadn't forgotten the salt either, nor a modicum of butter in a piece of paper, nor bread; and as he and bob made a hearty dinner, he gave every now and then the sweetest of tit-bits to babs. eedie and the child got on beautifully together. "may i ask you a question or two, you most interesting boy?" said miss scragley. "oh, yes, if ye're quite sure ye ain't the gamekeeper's wife. the keeper turned me out of the wood once. bob warn't there that day." "well, i'm sure i'm not the gamekeeper's wife. i am miss scragley of scragley hall." the boy was wiping his fingers and his knife with some moss. "i wish i had a cap on," he said. "why, dear?" "so as i could take her off and make a bow," he explained. "and what is your name, curious boy?" "ransey; that's my front name." "but your family name?" "ain't got ne'er a family, 'cepting babs." "but you have a surname--another name, you know." "ransey tansey all complete. there." "and where do you live, my lad?" "me and babs and bob and murrams all lives, when we're to home, at hangman's hall; and father lives there, too, when 'ee's to home; and the admiral, yonder, he roosts in the gibbet-tree." "and what does father do?" "oh, father's a capting." "a captain, dear boy?" "no, he's not a boy, but a man, and capting of the _merry maiden_, a canal barge, mum. an' we all goes to sea sometimes together, 'cepting murrams, our pussy, and the admiral. we have such fun; and i ride jim the canal hoss, and babs laughs nearly all the time." "so you're very happy all of you, and always were?" "oh, yes--'cepting when father sometimes took too much rum; but that's a hundred years ago, more or less, mum." "poor lad! have you a mother?" "oh, yes, we has a mother, but only she's gone dead. the parson said she'd gone to heaven; but i don't know, you know. wish she'd come back, though," he added with a sigh. "i'm so sorry," said miss scragley, patting his hand. "oh, don't ye do that, mum, and don't talk kind to me, else i'll cry. i feels the tears a-comin' now. nobody ever, ever talks kindly to me and babs when at home, 'cepting father, in course, 'cause we're on'y common canal folks and outcasts from serciety." ransey tansey was very earnest. miss scragley had really a kind heart of her own, only she couldn't help smiling at the boy's language. "who told you so?" "w'y, the man as opens the pews." "oh, you've been to church, then?" "oh, yes; went the other sunday. had nuthin' better to do, and thought i'd give babs a treat." "and did you go in those--clothes?" "well, mum, i couldn't go with nuthin' on--could i, now? an' the pew-man just turned us both out. but babs was so good, and didn't cry a bit till she got out. then i took her away through the woods to hear the birds sing; and mebbe god was there too, 'cause mother said he was everywhere." "yes, boy, god is everywhere. and where does your mother sleep, ransey?" "sleep? oh, in heaven. leastways i s'pose so." "i mean, where was your gentle mother buried?" "oh, at sea, mum. sailor's grave, ye know." ransey looked very sad just then. "you don't mean in the canal, surely?" "yes, mum. father wouldn't have it no other way. i can't forget; 'tain't much more'n a year ago, though it looks like ten. father, ye know, 'ad been a long time in furrin parts afore he was capting o' the _merry maiden_." the lad had thrown himself down on the grass at a respectable distance from miss scragley, and his big blue, eyes grew bigger and sadder as he continued his story. "'twere jest like this, mum. mother'd been bad for weeks and so quiet like, and father _so_ kind, 'cause he didn't never touch no rum when mother was sick. we was canal-ing most o' the time; and one night we stopped at the `bargee's chorus'--only a little public-house, mum, as perhaps you wouldn't hardly care to be seen drinkin' at. we stopped here 'cause mother was wuss, and old dad sent for a doctor; and i put jim into the meadow. soon's the doctor saw poor mother, he sez, sez he, `ye'd better get the parson. no,' he sez, `i won't charge ye nuthin' for attendance; it's on'y jest her soul as wants seein' to now.' "well, mum, the parson came. he'd a nice, kind face like you has, mum, and he told mother lots, and made her happy like. then he said a prayer. i was kind o' dazed, i dussay; but when mother called us to her, and kissed me and babs, and told us she was goin' on to a happier land, i broke out and cried awful. and babs cried too, and said, `an' me too, ma. oh, take babs.' "father led us away to the inn, and i jest hear him say to the parson, `no, no, sir, no. no parish burial for me. she's a sailor's wife; she'll rest in a sailor's grave!' "i don't know, mum, what happened that night and next day, for me and babs didn't go on board again. "only, the evenin' arter, when the moon and stars was ashinin' over the woods and deep down in the watur, father comes to me. "`ransey,' sez father, `fetch jim; we're goin' on.' and i goes and fetches jim, and yokes him to and mounts; and father he put babs up aside me, 'cause jim's good and never needs a whip. "`go on, ransey,' sez he, an' steps quietly on board and takes the tiller. "away we went--through the meadows and trees, and then through a long, quiet moor. "father kep' the barge well out, and she looked sailin' among the stars--which it wasn't the stars, on'y their 'flection, mum. well, we was halfway through the moor, and babs was gone sound asleep 'cross my arm, when i gives jim his head and looks back. "an', oh, mum, there was old dad standin' holdin' the tiller wi' one hand. the moon was shinin' on his face and on his hair, which is grey kind, and he kep' lookin' up and sayin' somethin'. "then there was a plash. oh, i knew then it was dead mother; and--and-i jest let jim go on--and--and--" but ransey's story stopped right here. he was pursing up his lips and trying to swallow the lump in his throat; and miss scragley herself turned her head away to hide the moisture in her eyes. -----------------------------------------------------------------------grief does not stay long at a time in the hearts of children. it comes there all the same, nevertheless, and is quite as poignant while it does last as it is in the breasts of older folks. children are like the traditional april day--sunshine and showers. "i think, mum," said ransey after a while, "it is time for us to bundle and go." miss scragley watched the lad with considerable interest while he struck his little camp. first he scattered the remains of his fire and ashes carefully, so that there should be no danger to the wood. then he prepared to hide his ship. "did you make that pretty ship?" said eedie. "oh, yes; i can make beautiful ships and boats, 'cause i seed lots on 'em w'en father took me to southampton. oh, that seems millions and millions o' years ago. and ye see, miss," he added, "i'm goin' to be a sailor anyhow, and sail all over the wide world, like father did, and by-and-by i'll be rich enough to have a real ship of my own." "oh, how nice! and will babs go with you?" "as long as babs is quite little," he answered, "i can't go to sea at all, 'cause babs would die like dead mother if i went away." he had babs in his arms by this time, and it was evident enough that the affection between these two little canal people was very strong indeed. seated on his left shoulder, and hugging ransey's head towards her, babs evidently thought she was in a position to give a harangue. she accordingly addressed herself to eedie:-"my bloder 'ansey is doin' to drow a big, big man. as big as dad. my bloder 'ansey is doin' to be a sailor in s'ips, and babs is doin'. 'oo _mufn't_ [mustn't] take my bloder away from babs. 'oor mudder mufn't, and noboddy mufn't." meanwhile her brother was nearly strangled by the vehemence of her affection. but he gently disengaged the little arm and set her on the moss once more. he speedily enveloped her in the shawl, and then hoisted her on his back. next he hung his bag in front, and handed the fishing-rod to bob. "we must all go now, lady." "oh, yes, and we too must go. we have to thank you for a very interesting half-hour." ransey wasn't used to such politeness as this little speech indicated. what to say in reply did not readily occur to him. "wish," he said awkwardly and shyly, "i could talk as nice like as you and t'other young lady." miss scragley smiled. she rather liked being thought a young lady even by a little canal boy like ransey. "oh, you will some day. can you read?" "ye-es. mother taught me to read, and by-and-by i'll teach babs like one o'clock. i can read `nick o' the woods' and the `rev'lations o' saint john;' but babs likes `jack the giant killer' better'n the bible. an' oh," he added, somewhat proudly, "i got a letter to-day, and i could read that; and it was to say as how father was comin' home in four days. and the postman cheeked us, and shook his head, threat'nin' like, and i threw a big turmut and broke it." "what! broke his head?" "oh, no, mum, only jest the turmut. an' bob went after him, and down went postie. ye would have larfed, mum." "i'm afraid you're a bad boy sometimes." "yes, i feels all over bad--sometimes." "i like bad boys best," said eedie boldly, "they're such fun." "babs," said ransey, "you'll hang me dead if you hold so tight." "well, dears, i'm going to come and see you to-morrow, perhaps, or next day, and bring babs a pretty toy." "babs," said the child defiantly, "has dot a dolly-bone, all dlessed and boo'ful." this was simply a ham-bone, on the ball of which ransey had scratched eyes and a mouth and a nose, and dressed it in green moss and rags. and babs thought nothing could beat that. as she rode off triumphantly on ransey's back, babs looked back, held one bare arm on high, and shouted, "hullay!" -----------------------------------------------------------------------"what strange children!" said miss scragley to her niece. "they're not at all like our little knights of the gutter down in the village where we visit. this opens up life to me in quite a new phase. i'm sure captain weathereye would be much interested. there is good, in those poor canal children, dear, only it wants developing. i wonder how we could befriend them without appearing officious or obtrusive. consult the captain, did you say?" "i did not speak at all, aunt." "didn't you? however, that _would_ be best, as you suggested." miss scragley did not call at hangman's hall next day--it looked showery; but about twelve o'clock, while ransey tansey was stewing that leveret with potatoes and a morsel of bacon, and babs was nursing her dolly-bone in the bassinette, where ransey had placed her to be out of the way, some one knocked sharply and loudly at the door. the admiral, swaying aloft in the gibbet-tree, sounded his tocsin, and bob barked furiously. "down, bob!" cried ransey, running to the door. he half expected the postman. he was mistaken, however, for there stood a smart but pale-faced flunkey in a brown coat with gilt buttons. now ransey could never thoroughly appreciate "gentlemen's gentlemen" any more than he could gamekeepers. the flunkey had a large parcel under his arm, which he appeared to be rather ashamed of. "aw!" he began haughtily, "am i right in my conjecture that this is 'angman's 'all?" "your conjecture," replied ransey, mimicking the flunkey's tone and manner, "is about as neah wight as conjectures gener'ly aw. what may be the naychure of your business?" "aw! an' may i enquiah if you are the--the--the waggamuffin who saw miss scwagley in the wood yestah-day?" "i'm the young _gentleman_" said ransey, hitching up his suspender, "who had the honah of 'alf an hour's convehsation with the lady. i am ransey tansey, esq., eldest and only son of captain tansey of the _mewwy maiden_. and," he added emphatically, "this is my dog _bob_." bob uttered a low, ominous growl, and walked round behind the flunkey on a tour of inspection. the only comfort the flunkey had at that moment arose from the fact that his calves were stuffed with hay. "aw! beautiful animal, to be shuah. may i ask if this is the doag that neahly killed the postman fellah?" "that's the doag," replied ransey, "who _would_ have killed the postman fellah dead out, if i had tipped him the wink." "aw! well, my business is vewy bwief. heah is a pawcel from miss scwagley, of which she begs your acceptance." "ah, thank you. dee--lighted. pray walk in. sorry my butler is out at pwesent. but what will you dwink--sherry, port, champagne--wum? can highly wecommend the wum." "oh, thanks. then i'll have just a spot of wum." ransey brought out his father's bottle--a bottle that had lain untouched for a long time indeed--and his father's glass, and the flunkey drank his "spot," and really seemed to enjoy it. ransey opened the door for him. "convey my best thanks to miss scwagley," he said, "and inform her that we will be ree--joiced to receive her, and that miss tansey and myself will not fail to return the call at a future day. good mo'ning." "good mawning, i'm shuah." and the elegant flunkey lifted his hat and bowed. ransey ran in, gave the leveret stew just a couple of stirs to keep it from burning, then threw himself into his father's chair, stretched out his legs, and laughed till the very rafters rang. book 1--chapter five. "oh, no! i'll never leave 'ansey till we is bof deaded." the day had looked showery, but the sun was now shining very brightly, and so ransey tansey laid dinner out of doors on the grass. as far as curiosity went, babs was quite on an equality with her sex, and the meal finished, and the bones eaten by bob, she wanted to know at once what the man with the pretty buttons had brought. ransey's eyes, as well as his sister's, were very large, but they grew bigger when that big parcel was opened. there was a note from miss scragley herself right on the top, and this was worded as delicately, and with apparently as much fear of giving offence, as if ransey had been the son of a real captain, instead of a canal bargee. why, here was a complete outfit: two suits of nice brown serge for ransey himself, stockings and light shoes, to say nothing of real baltic shirts, a neck-tie, and sailor's cap. "she's oceans too good to live, that lady is!" exclaimed ransey, rapturously. "me see!--me see! babs wants pletty tlothes." "yes, dear babs, look! there's pretty clothes." that crimson frock would match babs's rosy cheeks and yellow curly hair "all to little bits," as ransey expressed it. after all the things had been admired over and over again, they were refolded and put carefully away in father's strong locker. i think that the admiral knew there was gladness in the children's eyes, for he suddenly hopped high up the hill, and did a dance that would have delighted the heart of a pawnee indian. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"no," said miss scragley that same day after dinner, as she and her friends sat out in the great veranda, "one doesn't exactly know, mr davies, how to benefit children like these." the parson placed the tips of his fingers together meditatively, and looked down at miss scragley's beautiful setter. "of course," he said, slowly and meditatively, "teaching is essential to their bodily as well as to their spiritual welfare." "very prettily put, mr davies," said miss scragley; "don't _you_ think so, dr fairincks?" "certainly, miss scragley, certainly; and i was just wondering if they had been vaccinated. i'd get the little one into a home, and the boy sent to a board school. and the father--drinks rum, eh?--get him into the house. let him end his days there. what should you propose, weathereye?" "eh? humph! do what you like with the little one. send the boy to school--a school for a year or two where he'll be flogged twice a day. hardens 'em. so much for the bodily welfare, parson. as to the spiritual, why, send him to sea. too young, miss scragley? fiddlesticks! look at me. ran away to sea at ten. in at the hawse-hole, in a manner o' speaking. just fed the dogs and the ship's cat at first, and emptied the cook's slush-bucket. got buffeted about a bit, i can tell you. when i went aft, steward's mate kicked me for'ard; when i got for'ard, cook's mate kicked me aft. no place of quiet and comfort for me except swinging in the foretop with the purser's monkey. but--it made a man of me. look at me now, miss scragley." miss scragley looked. "staff-commander of the royal navy. three stripes. present arms from the sentries, and all that sort of thing. ahem!" and the bold mariner helped himself to another glass of miss scragley's port. "but you won't go to the wars again, captain weathereye?" ventured miss scragley. the captain rounded on her at once--put his helm hard up, so to speak, till he was bows on to his charming hostess. his face was like a full moon rising red over the city's haze. "how do _you_ know, madam? not so very old, am i? war, indeed! humph!--i'll be sorry when that's done," he added. "what! the war, captain weathereye?" said the lady. "fiddlesticks! no, madam, the _port_--if you will have it." "as for the father of these children," he continued, after looking down a little, "if he's been a sailor, as you say, the house won't hold him. as well expect an eagle to live with the hens. rum? bah! i've drunk as much myself as would float the _majestic_." "but i say, you know," he presently remarked as he took eedie on his knee; "little sweetheart here and i will run over to see the children to-morrow forenoon, and we'll take the setter with us. anything for a little excitement, when one can't hunt or shoot. and we'll take you as well, madam." miss scragley said she would be delighted; at the same time she could not help thinking the gallant captain's sentences might have been better worded. he might have put _her_ before the setter, to say the least. -----------------------------------------------------------------------next morning was a very busy one at hangman's hall. ransey tansey was up betimes, but he allowed babs to sleep on until he had lit the fire, hung on the kettle, and run for the milk. ransey was only a boy, and boys will be boys, so he could not help telling kind mrs farrow, the farmer's wife, of his luck, and how he expected real society people to visit himself and babs that day, so he must run quickly home to dress. "certainly, dear," said mrs farrow; "and here are some lovely new-laid eggs. you brought me fish, you know; and really i have so many eggs i don't know what to do with them all. good-bye, ransey. of course you'll run across and tell me all about it to-night, and bring babs on your back." babs was a "dooder dirl" than usual that morning, if that were possible. ransey was so glad that the sun was shining; he was sure now that the visit would be paid. but he had babs to wash and dress, and himself as well. when he had washed babs and combed her hair, he set her high up on the bank to dry, as he phrased it, and gave her the new doll to play with. very pretty she looked, too, in that red frock of hers. well, away went ransey to the stream, carrying his bundle. bob was left to mind babs. ransey was gone quite a long time, and the child grew weary and sighed. "bob!" said babs. "yes, babs," said bob, or seemed to say. "tiss my new dolly." bob licked the doll's face. then he licked babs's hand. "master'll soon be back," he tried to tell her. she was quiet for a time, singing low to her doll. "bob!" she said, solemnly now; "does 'oo fink [think] 'ansey 'as fallen in and dlowned hisself?" "oh, look, look, bob," she cried the next moment, "a stlange man toming here!" bob started up and barked most savagely. he was quite prepared to lay down his life for his little charge. but as he rushed forward he quickly changed his tune. it was ransey tansey right enough, but so transformed that it was no wonder that babs and bob took him for a stranger. even the admiral must fly down from the gibbet-tree and dance wildly round him. murrams, the great tom-cat, came out and purred aloud; and babs clapped her tiny hands and screamed with delight. "'oo's a zentleman now," she cried; "and i'se a lady. hullay!" ransey didn't feel quite comfortable after all, especially with shoes on. to go racing through the woods in such a rig as this would be quite out of the question. the only occupation that suggested itself at present was culling wild flowers, and stringing them to put round bob's neck. but even gathering wild flowers grew irksome at last, so ransey got his new testament, and turning to revelation, read lots of nice sensational bits therefrom. babs was not so well pleased as she might and ought to have been; but when her brother pulled out "jack the giant killer," she set herself to listen at once, and there were many parts she made ransey read over and over again, frequently interrupting with such questions as,-"so jack killed the big ziant, did he? 'oo's _twite_ sure o' zat?" "and ze axe was all tovered wi' blood and ziant's hair? my! how nice!" "six 'oung ladies, all stlung up by ze hair o' zer heads? boo'ful! 'oo's _twite_ sure zer was six?" "an' the big ziant was doin' to kill zem all? my! how nice!" ransey was just describing a tragedy more ghastly than any he had yet read, when from the foot of the slope came a stentorian hail:-"hangman's hall, ahoy! turn out the guard!" the guard would have turned out in deadly earnest--bob, to wit--if ransey hadn't ordered him to lie down. then, picking up babs, he ran down the hill, heels first, lest he should fall, to welcome his visitors. miss scragley was charmed at the change in the lad's personal appearance, and eedie frankly declared him to be the prettiest boy she had ever seen. captain weathereye hoisted babs and called her a beautiful little rogue. then all sat down on the side of the hill to talk, babs being perfectly content, for the time being, to sit on the captain's knee and play with his watch and chain. "and now, my lad," said bold weathereye, "stand up and let us have a look at you. attention! that's right. so, what would you like to be? because the lady here has a heart just brimful of goodness, and if you were made of the right stuff she would help you to get on. a sailor? that's right. the sea would make a man of you, lad. and if you were in a heavy sea-way, with your masts gone by the board, bothered if old jack weathereye wouldn't pay out a hawser and give you a helping hand himself. for i like the looks of you. glad you paid the postman out. just what i'd have done myself. ahem!" ransey felt rather shy, though, to be thus displayed as it were. it was all owing to the new clothes, i think, and especially to the shoes. "now, would you like to go to school?" "what! and leave babs? no, capting, no. i'd hate school anyhow; i'd fight the small boys, and bite the big uns, and they'd soon turn me adrift." "bravo, boy! i never could endure school myself.--what i say is this, miss scragley, teach a youngster to read and write, with a trifle of 'rithmetick, and as he gets older he'll choose all the knowledge himself, and tackle on to it too, that's needed to guide his barque across the great ocean of life. there's no good in schools, miss scragley, that i know of, except that the flogging hardens them.--well, lad, you won't go to school? there! and if you'll get your father to allow you to come up to the grange, just close by the village and rectory, i'll give you a lesson myself, three times a week." "oh, thank you, sir! i'm sure father'll be pleased to let me come when i'm at home and not at sea." "eh? at sea? oh, yes, i know; you mean on the barge, ha, ha, ha! well, you'll live to face stormier seas yet." "an' father's comin' to-morrow, sir, and then we're goin' on." "going on?" "he means along the canal," said miss scragley. "to be sure, to be sure. what an old fool i am! and now, lad, let me think what i was going to say. oh, yes. don't those shoes pinch a bit?" "never wears shoes and stockin's 'cept in winter, sir. i keeps 'em in dad's locker till snow time." "now, in you go to your house or hut and take them off." "ha!" said weathereye, when ransey returned with bare feet and ankles, "that's ship-shape and bristol fashion. now, lad, listen. if miss scragley here asks you to come and see her--and i'm sure she will, for she's an elderly lady, and likes to be amused,"--miss scragley winced a little, but weathereye held on--"when you're invited to the ancestral home of the scragleys, then you can wear them togs and your shoes; but when you come to the grange, it'll be in canvas bags, bare feet, a straw hat, and a blue sweater--and my own village tailor shall rig you out. ahem!" captain weathereye glanced at miss scragley as if he owed her a grudge. the look might have been interpreted thus: "there are other people who can afford to be as generous as you, and have a far better notion of a boy's requirements." "and now, babs," he continued, kissing the child's little brown hand, "i've got very fond of you all at once. will you come and live with me?" "tome wiz 'oo and live! oh, no," she replied, shaking her yellow curls, "i'll never leave 'ansey till we is bof deaded. never!" and she slid off the captain's knee and flew to ransey with outstretched arms. the boy knelt on one knee that she might reach his neck. then he lifted her up, and she looked defiantly back at the captain, with her cheek pressed close to ransey's. weathereye glanced towards miss scragley once again, and his voice was a trifle husky when he spoke. "miss scragley," he said, "old people like _you_ and me are apt to be faddy. we will both do something for these poor children, but, bless them, there's a bond of union betwixt their little hearts that we dare not sever. the bairns must not be parted." book 1--chapter six. chee-tow, the red chief of the slit-nosed indians. during the time the memorable visit lasted no one took much notice of ransey tansey's pets. yet each one of the three of them was interested, and each showed his interest in his own peculiar way. the admiral had flown gracefully down from the gibbet-tree, and alighted on the ground not more than a dozen yards from the group. "craik--a-raik--a--r-r-r--a--cray--ay!" he said to himself, which being interpreted seemed to signify, "what do _they_ want here, anyhow? that's about the same gang i saw in the woods. curr-r-r! well, they haven't guns anyhow, like the beastly biped called a keeper, who tried to shoot my hind-legs off because i was a strange bird. i was only tasting some partridge's eggs, nothing else. shouldn't i have liked just to have gouged out his ugly eyes, thrown 'em one by one into the air, caught 'em coming down, and swallowed 'em like eggs." all the time the talking was going on the admiral stood twisting his body about, sometimes crouching low to the ground, his neck stretched straight out towards them, the head on one side and listening, the next moment erect as a bear pole, and seeming to look surprised and angry at what he heard them saying. bob had rushed to see about the setter. he lay down at some distance off, with his nose between his paws, and the setter _set_, and finally _sat_. "not a yard nearer, mr sportsman, if _you_ please," said bob; "i'm a rough 'un to look at, and a tough 'un to tackle. i suppose you call yourself a gentleman's dog; you live in marble halls, sleep on skins, and drink from a silver saucer. i'm only a poor man's doggie; i sleep where i can, eat what i can get, and drink from bucket or brook. but i love my master maybe more than you love yours. yonder is my home, and yonder is our cat in the door of it; but my humble home is my master's castle. just try to come a yard or two nearer, if you're tired of your silly life." but dash preferred to stay where he was. murrams the cat behaved with the utmost dignity and indifference. he sat in the doorway washing his face, with dreamy, half-shut eyes. to have seen him you would have said that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, so cool was he; yet if mr dash had come round that way, murrams would have mounted his back and never ceased clawing the dog till he had ridden him half a mile at least from hangman's hall. it wasn't, however, until the visitors had taken their departure that the grand jubilee commenced. "_they're_ gone!" said bob, running up and licking the pussy's ear. "that's a jolly good job!" "_they're_ gone!" said pussy in reply, as he rubbed shoulders with bob. "_they're_ gone!" cried the crane, hopping madly round the pair of them. and as she nestled closer in her brother's arms, babs sighed and said just the same thing. "hurrah!" cried ransey tansey; "let's run off to the woods." "let's wun off to ze woods at wance," echoed babs. had little eedie seen ransey five minutes after this, i question whether she would have pronounced him the prettiest boy she had ever known. ransey was himself again, old shirt, ragged pants, and all. i think that the children and bob, not to mention the gallant admiral, enjoyed themselves that afternoon in the woods as much as ever they had done in their young lives. babs insisted on taking her ragged old dolly-bone with her, and leaving the new one at home upside down in a corner. well, ransey fished for just an hour, but had glorious luck and a good string to take to mrs farrow. this was enough, so he put away his rod, and read some more horrors to babs from "nick o' the woods." the torture scenes and the scalping took her fancy more than anything else. so ransey tansey invented a play on the spot that would have brought down the house in a twopenny theatre if properly put on the stage. he, ransey tansey, was to be a wild indian, babs would be the white man, bob the bear, and the admiral the spirit of the wild woods and ghost of the haunted canon. the play passed off without a hitch. only ransey tansey himself required to dress for his part. this he did to perfection. he retired to a secluded spot by the river's bank for the purpose. he divested himself of his pants and his solitary suspender. these were but the evidences of an effete civilisation. what could such things as these have to do with the red man of the wild west, the solitary scalp-hunter of the boundless prairie? but a spear and a tomahawk he must have, and these were quickly and easily fashioned from the boughs of the neighbouring trees. he tied a piece of cord around his waist, and in this he stuck his knife, open and ready for every emergency. he fuzzed up his rebellious hair, and stuck rooks' feathers in it; he thrust his feet into the darkest and grimiest of mud to represent moccasins, and streaked his face with the same. when enveloped in his blanket (the big shawl) he stalked into the open in all the ghastliness of his wur-paint, and said "ugh!" he was ransey tansey no longer, but chee-tow, the red chief of the slit-nosed indians. on beholding the warrior, babs's first impulse was to scream in terror; her next--and this she carried out--was to roll on her back, her two legs pointing skywards, and scream with laughter. "oh," she cried delightedly, "'oo _is_ such a boo'ful wallio! [warrior]; be twick and tell somefing." for the time being babs was only the audience. when she became an actor in this great forest drama she would have to behave differently. and now the red chief went prowling around, and presently out from a bush darted a grizzly bear. the bear was bob. chee-tow uttered his wildest war-cry, and rushed onwards to the charge. the grizzly held his ground and scorned to fly. "then began the deadly conflict, hand to hand among the mountains; from his eerie screamed the eagle [the crane] ...the great war-eagle, sat upon the crags around them, wheeling, flapped his wings above them. * * * * *. "till the earth shook with the tumult and confusion of the battle. and the air was full of shoutings, and the thunder of the mountains starting, answered `baim-wa-wa.'" this fierce fight with the terrible grizzly was so realistic that the audience sat silent and enthralled, with its thumb in its mouth. but it ended at last in the victory of the red chief. the bear lay dead, and the first act came to a close. in act two an indian maiden has been stolen, and borne away by a white man across the boundless prairie to his wigwam in the golden east. the red chief squats down on the moss with drooping head to bewail the loss of his daughter, during which outburst of grief his streaks of war-paint get rather mixed; but that can't be helped. then the spirit of the wild woods appears to him--the ghost of the haunted canon (that is, between you and me, the admiral comes hopping up with his neck stretched out, wondering what it is all about)--and whispers to him, and speaks in his ear, and says:- "listen to me, brave chee-tow-wa, lie not there upon the meadow; stoop not down among the lilies, lest the west wind come and harm you. follow me across the prairie, follow me across the mountains, i will find the maiden for you, the maid with hair like sunshine, who has vanished from your sight." so chee-tow gets up, seizes his arms, and follows the spirit, who goes hopping on in front of him in a very weird-like manner indeed. meanwhile babs, knowing her part, has hidden herself in a bush, and in due time is led back in triumph as the white man who stole the maiden. he is tied to a tree, scalped, and tortured. then a fire is lit, and thither the white man is dragged towards it to be burned alive. but another bear (bob again) rushes in to his assistance and enables him to escape. the same fire built to burn the white man (babs) is being utilised to roast potatoes for supper; only this is a mere detail. and the play ends by the spirit of the wild woods bringing the maiden back (babs again) to the camp fire in the forest, and--and by a supper of baked potatoes with salt. all's well that ends well. and shortly after the denouement there may be seen, wending its way in the calm summer gloaming up the little footpath that leads through the green corn, the following procession. first, bob solemnly carrying the fishing-rod; then ransey tansey with a string of red-finned fish in front of him, and babs on his back, wrapped in the indian's blanket; and last, but not least, the admiral himself, nodding his head not unlike a camel, and lifting his legs very high indeed, because the dew was beginning to fall. babs had gone soundly to sleep by the time they reached the farm, but she was lively enough a few minutes after this. and mrs farrow made them stay to supper, every one of them, including even the admiral, although he said "tok--tok--tok" several times, out of politeness, perhaps when first invited in. the kitchen at the farm was in reality a sitting-room, and a very jolly, cosy one it was; nor did the fire seem a bit out of place to-night. it took ransey quite a long time to tell all his adventures, and dilate upon the kindness of his visitors, especially rough but kindly captain weathereye. -----------------------------------------------------------------------it was almost dark before they got to the little cot at the foot of the hill that they called their home; and here a fresh surprise awaited them, for a light was shining through the little window, and through the half-open door as well. babs herself was the first, i believe, to notice this. "o 'ansey," she cried, struggling with excitement on the boy's back, "o 'ansey, look! fazer [father] has tomed! be twick, 'ansey, be twick." and ransey quickened his pace now, while bob ran on in front. "wowff, wowff," he barked, "wowff--wowff--wow!" but it was in a half-hysterical kind of way, as if there were a tear of joy mixed up with it, joy at the hope of seeing a kind old master again. even the crane felt it his bounden duty to indulge in an extra hop or two, and to shout, "scray--scray--scray--ay--ay!" it was the admiral's voice that caused honest tom tandy to get up from his chair, lay down his pipe, and hurry to the door. "hill--ll--o!" he shouted. "here we all are, ransey tansey, babs, and bob, and all. why, this _is_ a merry meeting. come, babs. hoist away, ransey. hee--hoy--ip! and there she is safely landed in harbour. so you missed your old father, little lass, did you? bless it. but we're all going on to-morrow, and the _merry maiden_ has got a new coat o' paint, and new furniture for the cuddy, and it's no end of a jolly time we'll all have." yes, it _was_ a merry meeting, and a right happy one. i only wish that both miss scragley and captain weathereye had seen it. "why," the former would have said to herself, "this good fellow could surely never have been a slave to the bottle!" mr tandy had never really been a constant imbiber of that soul-killing curse of our country--drink; but some years gone by, like many another old sailor, he was liable to slide into an occasional "bout," as it is called, and it was with sorrow he thought of this now. but miss scragley and many others have yet to learn that it is often the best-hearted and the brightest that fall most easily into temptation. as for weathereye, had he been a witness of this little reunion, he too would have given his opinion about the sturdy old sailor. "why!" he would have cried frankly to mr tandy, [pronounced tansey only by the children] "why, my good fellow, miss scragley, who is faddy and elderly, and myself, old fool that i am at the best, were considering what best we could do for your children. we were to do all kinds of pretty things. the boy was going to a school, the child to a home, and you--ha, ha, ha--you, with your bold face and your sturdy frame, a man of barely forty, were going to be sent to the house. ha, ha, no wonder i laugh. but tip us your flipper, tandy, you're a man every inch--a man and a sailor." that is what weathereye would have said had he seen tandy sitting there now. they are right in saying that those whom animals and children love are possessed of right good hearts of their own. and here was this old sailor--the word "old" being simply a term of endearment, for none but the sickly are old at forty, and they've been old all the time--sitting erect in his chair, babs on one knee, the great cat on the other; ransey on the hearth looking smilingly up at father's bronzed face, silver-sprinkled hair and beard; the admiral standing on one leg behind the chair; and poor bob asleep before the fire, with his chin reposing on his old master's boot. it was a pretty picture. "children," says tandy at last, "it is getting late, and--just kneel down. i think we'll say a bit of a prayer to-night." book 1--chapter seven. on silent highways. it was early next morning when ransey tansey ran off through the fields for a double allowance of milk. "double allowance to-day, mrs farrow," he shouted. "oh, yes, father's come; and we're goin' on to-day. isn't it just too awfully jolly for anything?" "well, i'm sorry to lose you and babs." "back in a month, mrs farrow. it'll soon pass, ye know. but i--i am a kind o' sorry to leave you too, for ye've been so good to babs and bob and me." there was a tear in ransey's eye as he took the milk-can and prepared to depart. "the admiral can take care o' his little self," he said, "but there's murrams." "yes, dear boy, and our nipper shall go over every morning, and put murrams's bowl of milk in through the broken pane." "oh, now i'm happy, just downright happy." "well, off you run. mind never to forget to say your prayers." "no; and i'll pray for murrams, for the admiral, for you, and all." he waved his hand now, and quickly disappeared. -----------------------------------------------------------------------the world wasn't a very wide one just yet to these poor children, ransey and babs. it was chiefly made up of that little cottage which went by the uncanny name of hangman's hall, and of the carrying barge or canal-boat yclept _ye merry maiden_. but when at home, at the hut, they had all the sweet, green, flowery fields around them, the stream, and the wild woods. these formed the grand seminary in which ransey studied nature, and moreover, studied it without knowing he was studying anything. to him every creature, whether clad in fur or in feather, was a friend. he knew all their little secrets, and they _knew_ that he knew them. not a bird that sang was there that he did not know by its eggs, its nest, or its notes; not a rabbit, hare, vole, or field-mouse that he could not have told you the life-story of. his was a- "knowledge never learned at schools, of the wild bee's morning chase. of the wild flowers' time and place; flight of fowl, and habitude of the tenants of the wood; how the tortoise bears his shell; how the woodchuck digs his cell, and the ground mole makes his well; how the robin feeds her young; how the oriel's nest is hung; of the black wasp's cunning way, mason of his walls of clay; and the architectural plans of grey hornet artisans." it is true enough that this family was poor in the eyes of the world. i am sure they were not ashamed of it, however. the poverty that goes hand in hand with honesty may hold up its head before the queen. "is there, for honest poverty, that hangs his head, and a' that? the coward slave, we pass him by; we dare be poor for a' that! for a' that, and a' that, our toils obscure, and a' that; the rank is but the guinea stamp, the man's the gowd for a' that?" so sang the immortal robert burns. but could any boy, or girl either, be really poor who had so many friends in field and forest, and by the winding stream? no; and such a one as this, who has been in touch with nature in his or her early days, may grow up, grow old, but never forget the days of youth, and never, never lose faith in heaven and a happy beyond. the cottage and the surrounding country, however, did not constitute all the children's world. there was the ship--as i have said--the barge that went to sea, and in which they so often sailed. for to them as yet the barge was a brig, and the canal the ocean wide and wild. well, i might on second thoughts withdraw those "wee wordies," _wide_ and _wild_. the canal was not a very wide one, nor was it ever very wild, in summer time at all events. never mind, to the imagination of ransey, babs, and bob, the _merry maiden_ was- "a gallant ship, with a crew as brave as ever sailed the ocean wave." the crew of the _merry maiden_, i may tell you at once, was a very small one indeed, and consisted--all told, that is--of the captain himself, who was likewise cook, boatswain, and bedmaker all combined; one sturdy, great boy of sixteen, strong enough to lift almost any weight, sammy by name, who was first lieutenant, supercargo, and chief engineer, and who often took his trick at the wheel--that is, he took the tiller and relieved his captain, or mounted jim and relieved ransey; ransey himself, who was second engineer--jim, the stout old bay nag, being the engine itself, the moving power when no fair wind was blowing; and bob, whose station was at the bows, and his duty to keep a good look-out and hail those aft if any other ship hove in sight or danger was near. the _merry maiden_ rejoiced in one mast, which had to be cleverly lowered when a bridge had to be negotiated. the sail was a fore-and-aft one, though very full at times. picturesquely reddish-brown it was, and looked so pretty sometimes against the green of the trees that, as the craft sailed slowly on in the sunshine, dreamy artists, seated smoking at their out-door easels, often made the _merry maiden_ part and parcel of the landscape they were painting. i think that tandy himself liked being on board. the barge was his own, and carrying light wares or parcels from village to village, or town to town, his trade. things had gone backwards with tandy as long as he looked upon the rum when it was red; he had got into debt. but now he was comfortable, jolly once more, because his keel was clear, as he phrased it; and as he reclined to-day on the top of the cuddy, or poop, with the tiller in his hand, babs nestling near him, with the greenery of the woods, the fields, and little round knolls floating dreamily past him in the silvery haze of the sunshine, he looked a picture of health, happiness, and contentment. ransey and babs took their canal life very easily. they never knew or cared where they were going to, nor thought of what they might see. even the boy's knowledge of the geography of his own country was very limited indeed. he had some notion that his father's canal--he grandly termed it so occasionally--was somewhere away down in the midlands. and he was right. he hadn't learned to box the compass, however; and even had he possessed the knowledge, there wasn't a compass on board the _merry maiden_ to box or be boxed. besides, the ship's head was seldom a whole hour in any one particular direction. the canal was a very winding one, its chief desire seeming to be to visit all the villages it could reach without being bothered with locks. these last were few and far between, because the country was rather a level one on the whole. nevertheless the fact of their not knowing exactly where they were going to, or what they would see next, lent an additional charm to the children's canal life. it was like the game children play on moonlight nights in scotland. this is a very simple one, but has a great fascination for tiny dwellers in the country, and, besides, it gives excellent scope for the imagination. one child blindfolds another, and leads him here, there, and everywhere, without going far away from home--round the stackyards, over the fields by the edge of the woods, or across bridges, the blindfolded wondering all the time where he is, but feeling as if he were in fairyland, till at last his eyes are free, and he finds himself--well, in the very last place he could have dreamt of being. there is no reason why canal life in england should not be most pleasant, and canal people just as happy as was the crew, all told, on board the _merry maiden_. the saloon of the _maiden_, as tandy grandly called it, was by no means very large. it was simply a dear little morsel of a doll's-house, but the taste of the owner was shown in many different ways. by day the beds were folded up and were prettily draped with bright curtains. there were a lounge, an easy-chair, a swing-lamp, a beautiful brass stove, and racks above and at both sides of it for plates and mugs and clear, clean tin cooking utensils; there were tiny cupboards and brackets and mirrors, and in almost every corner stood vases of wild flowers, culled by babs and ransey whenever they had a chance. and this was often enough, for really jim was so wise a horse that he never required any urging to do his duty. he was never known to make either break or stumble. but when sail was on the ship, jim had nothing to do except to walk after her and look about him. sometimes the oats or the wheat grew close to the path, and then, although a very honest horse, jim never failed to treat himself to a pluck. so he was as sleek and fat as any nag need be. the weather was not always fine, of course, but on wet days babs could be sent below, with bob to mind her, to play with her picture-books, her lady doll, and her dolly-bone. ransey's father had made him discard now, for ever and ay, his ragged garments, although the boy had not done so without a sigh of regret-they were so free and easy. his best clothes, presented by miss scragley, were stowed away for high days and holidays, and the suit his father bought him and brought him was simply neat and somewhat nautical. let us take a little cruise in the _merry maiden_. shall we, reader? it will be a cruise in imagination certainly, but very real for all that, because it is from the life. it is very early, then, in the joyous month of june, and the _merry maiden_ is lying alongside a green bank. there is no pier here. it is a country place. yonder on the right is a pretty little canal-side inn, the "jolly tapsters." you can read its name on the sign that is swinging to and fro beneath a wide-spreading elm-tree. under this tree is a seat, and a table also; and on fine evenings, after their day's work is done, honest labourers, dressed in smocks, who have been haymaking all day, come here to smoke long clays, to talk to their neighbours, and now and then beat the table with their pewters to ask for "another pint, landlord, if _you_ please." tandy lay in here last night and left a whole lot of parcels and things at that cosy hostelry; for the country all about is an agricultural one, beautifully wooded with rolling hills, with many a smiling mansion peeping grey or red above the trees, and many a well-tilled farm. the parcels will all be called for in due time. the barge-master is up before even ransey is stirring. he has lit the fire and made ready for breakfast. before going on shore by the little gangway, he stirs sammy up. sammy, the sixteen-year-old boy, has been sleeping among the cargo with a morsel of tarpaulin for a blanket. he rubs his eyes, and in a few seconds pulls himself up, and begins, lazily enough, to sort and arrange the parcels and make notes for the next stop in a small black book, with a very thick pencil that he sticks in his mouth about once every three seconds to make it write more easily. "what a lovely morning!" thinks tandy, and bob, who has come bounding after him, thinks so too. the sun is already up, however. from every copse and plantation comes the melody of birds. flocks of rooks are flying heavily and silently away to the distant river, where among the reeds they will find plenty to eat. swimming about in the canal yonder are half a score of beautiful ducks. no, not wild; wild birds seldom build on a busy canal side. they are the innkeeper's rouens, and that splendid drake is very proud indeed. he lifts himself high out of the water and claps his wings in defiance as bob passes. yonder is a lark lilting loudly and sweetly high above the green corn. there are linnets and greenfinches in the hedges, and warblers among the snow-white blossoms of the may. there is a wealth of wild flowers everywhere--blue-eyed speedwells, the yellow celandine, the crimson of clover, the ragged robin, and ox-eye daisies weeping dew. so balmy is the air and fresh that the barge-master has wandered further than he had intended. hunger warns him to beat a retreat. canal people, like caravan folks, have excellent appetites. but here he is on board again. ransey has already cooked and laid the breakfast, dressed babs, and folded up the beds. with the ports all open the tiny saloon is sweet and clean. "for what we are about to receive," the father begins, and little ransey's head is bent and babs's hands are clasped till grace is said. those eggs are fresh. the fish was caught but yesterday. butter and beautiful bread are always to be had cheap all along the canal. sammy's breakfast and bob's are duly handed up the companion-way, and in half an hour after this the horse is yoked, the landlord has wished them all good luck, and they have gone on. but the wind, though slight, is dead ahead for miles, and jim has a heavy drag. jim doesn't mind that a bit. he jingles his light harness, strains nobly to his work, and jogs right merrily on. gradually the country wakens up to newness of life. smoke comes curling up from many a humble cottage; cocks are crowing here and there; and busy workman-like dogs are hurrying to and fro as they drive cattle or sheep to distant pasture lands. there are houses dotted about everywhere, some very close to the canal side, from the doors of which half-dressed children rush out to wave naked arms and "hooray" as the barge goes slowly floating past. to these babs must needs wave her wee hands and give back cheer for cheer. many of those cots, humble though they be, have the neatest of gardens, with flowers already blooming in beds and borders, in tubs and in boxes; neat little walks all sanded and yellow; and strings along the walls, up which, when summer is further advanced, climbers will find their way and trail in their loveliness over porch and windows. there are orchards behind many of these, the gnarled trees snowed over with bloom, many clad in pink or crimson. all this brings to one's mind snatches from mrs hemans:- "the cottage homes of england, by thousands on her plains, they are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, and round the hamlet-fanes. through glowing orchards forth they peep, each from its nook of leaves, and fearless there the lowly sleep as the bird beneath their eaves." the sun climbs higher and higher, and the mists have disappeared from the far-off hills, and now you can tell it is school time. well-dressed children, in groups, are wending their way all in one direction. but they find time to cull wild flowers for teacher; and see, a bold, bright-faced lad comes near to the edge of the canal. perhaps he is charmed by the innocent beauty of little babs. who can tell? one thing we _are_ sure of--he has learned a little french, and is proud to air it. "_bon voyage_," he shouts. and next moment a bonnie bunch of flowers falls right into the child's lap. "kiss your hand to him, dear," says father. babs smilingly does as she is told. no actress could do so more naturally. then the boy runs off, looking happy, and the barge floats on. book 1--chapter eight. "poor mary! she has gone on." the barge floats on, and soon the village appears in sight. yes, thoroughly english, and therefore pretty: the old grey houses only half seen in the midst of the foliage; the wreaths of blue smoke; the broad, squat steeple; wooded hills behind, and amongst these latter here and there a tall elizabethan house sheltering itself in a hollow, for wildly in winter do the winds sweep through the leafless oaks and elms now clad in all the glory of summer's green. the canal makes a sweep just before it comes up to the village, as if it had entertained some thoughts of going past without calling. but it hasn't the heart to do so, and presently the barge is close alongside a kind of wooden platform which is dignified by the name of wharf. ransey dismounts to water his horse and slip on the nose-bag. then, while sammy is busy with his note-book, handing out cargo and taking fresh orders, he takes delighted babs and bob on shore to look at the shops. these visits to villages are much appreciated by her tiny ladyship, but if the streets are steep ransey tansey must take her on his back, and thus the two go on. no fear of the "ship" leaving without them; and why, here is father himself, his hands deep in the pockets of his pilot jacket, and smoking. a penny to ransey and a halfpenny to babs secure them additional happiness; but in less than an hour the anchor is weighed, and the _merry maiden_ is once more going on. the wind changes, or the canal, or something; anyhow sail can now be set, and jim thinks himself about the happiest horse in all creation. on and on through the quiet country, by the most silent of all thoroughfares, goes the barge. babs is getting drowsy; father makes her a bed with a bundle of sacks, shading her face from the sun; and soon she is in the land of forgetfulness. were it not for the breeze that blows freshly over the meadows, the day would be a warm and drowsy one. no fear of sammy falling asleep, however, for as the canal winds in and out he has to tighten or loosen the sheet according to the shift. just at present the sounds that are wafted towards the barge are all lulling and dreamy: the far-off singing of birds; the sound of the woodman's axe in the distant wood; the rattle of a cart or carriage on a road that is nowhere visible; the jangle of church bells from a village that may be in the sky for anything any one can tell; and now the merry laughter of young men and maidens making hay, and these last come in sight just round the next green bend. it suddenly occurs to jim that a dance wouldn't be at all a bad idea. ransey is some distance behind his horse, when he sees him lower his head and fling his heels high in air. this is merely preparatory; next minute he is off at a gallop, making straight for that meadow of fragrant hay, the wind catching mane and tail and blowing it straight out fore and aft. when tired of galloping round the field, jim bears right down upon the haymakers themselves. "that stuff," he says, with distended nostrils, "smells uncommonly nice. give us a tuft." he is fed handsomely by both lads and lasses gay. but they get gayer than ever when jim throws himself down on his back, regardless of the confused entanglement of bridle and traces. but jim knows better than to roll on the bare ground. he has thrown down a hay-cock for himself, and it is as good as a play to witness the girls bury him up till there is nothing to be seen of him except his four legs kicking skywards. he gets up at last, and looks very sober and solemn. one girl kisses him on the muzzle; another is busy doing something that ransey cannot make out, but a minute or two after this, when jim comes thundering back, there is a huge collar of hay around his neck. ransey mounts him bareback, and, waving his hand to the haymakers, goes galloping off to overtake the barge, and throw the hay on board. a nice little snack it will make for jim some time later on! to-day mr tandy has bought a newspaper. he had meant to read it, but he is too fond of country sights and sounds to bother about it now. in the evening, perhaps, over a pipe. on, ever on. there are locks to get through now, several of them, and lockmen are seldom, if ever, more than half awake; but everybody knows tandy, and has a kindly word to say to ransey tansey, and perhaps a kiss to blow to babs, who has just awakened, with eyes that shine, and lips and cheeks as red as the dog-roses that trail so sweetly over a hedge near by. the country here is higher--a bit of wales in the midlands, one might almost say. and so it continues for some time. sammy takes his trick at the wheel, and prefers to steer by lying on his back and touching the tiller with one bare foot. sammy is always original and funny, and now tells babs wonderful stories about fairies and water-babies that he met with a long time ago when he used to dwell deep down beneath the sea. babs has never seen the real sea, except in pictures, and is rather hazy about it. nevertheless, sammy's stories are very wonderful, and doubtless very graphic. the sail is lowered at last, and the saucy _merry maiden_ moored to a green bank. the dinner is served, and all hands, including jim, do justice to it. i said the barge was "moored" here. literal enough, for a wide, wild moor stretches all around. sheep are feeding not far off, and some droll-looking ponies that jim would like to engage in conversation. there are patches of heath also, and stunted but prettily-feathered larch-trees now hung with points of crimson. great patches of golden gorse hug the ground and scent the air for yards around. linnets are singing there, and now and then the eye is gladdened by the sight of a wood-lark. sometimes he runs along the ground, singing more sweetly even than his brother musician who loves to soar as high as the clouds. here is a cock-robin, looking very independent and lilting defiance at everybody. robins do not always live close to civilisation. this robin comes close enough to pick up the crumbs which ransey throws towards him. he wants ransey to believe that all the country for miles and miles around belongs to him--cock-robin--and that no bird save him has any real business here. there are pine-trees waving on the hills yonder, and down below, a town much bigger than any they yet have arrived at. but see, there is a storm coming up astern, so, speedily now, the _merry maiden_ is once more under way. babs is bundled down below, and bob goes with her. presently the air is chilly enough to make one shiver. a puff of high wind, a squall we may call it, brings up an army of clouds and darkness. thunder rolls, and the swift lightning flashes--red, bright, intense-then down come the rain and the big white hailstones. these rattle so loudly on the poop deck, and on the great tarpaulin that covers the cargo, that for a time the thunder itself can scarcely be heard. but in twenty minutes' time the sun is once more shining, the clouds have rolled far to leeward, the deck is dry, and but for the pools of water that lie in the hollows of the hard tarpaulin, no evidence is left that a summer storm had been raging. but away with the storm has gone the wind itself, and jim is once more called into requisition. then onwards floats the barge. through many a bridge and lock, past many a hamlet, past woodlands and orchards, and fields of waving wheat, stopping only now and then at a village, till at last, and just as the sun is westering, the distant town is reached. oh, a most unsavoury sort of a place, a most objectionable kind of a wharf, at which to pass a night. tandy sends babs and bob below again; for a language is spoken here he does not wish the child to listen to, sights may be seen he would not that her eyes should dwell upon. yonder is an ugly public-house with broken windows in it, and a bloated-faced, bare-armed woman, the landlady, standing with arms akimbo defiantly in the doorway. ah! there was a time when tandy used to spend hours in that very house. he shudders to think of it now. there is one dead tree at the gable of this inn, which--half a century ago, perhaps--may have been a country hostelry surrounded by meadows and hedges. that tree would then be green, the air fresh and sweet around it, the mavis singing in its leafy shade. now the sky is lurid, the air is tainted, and there is smoke everywhere. not even the bark is left on the ghastly tree. it looks as if it had died of leprosy. but the work is hurried through, and in a comparatively short time the _merry maiden_ is away out in the green quiet country. what a blessed change from the awful town they have just left! the sun has already gone down in such a glory of crimson, bronze, and orange, as we in this country seldom see. this soon fades away, however, as everything that is beautiful to behold must fade. the stars come out now in the east, and just as gloaming is merging into night the boat draws near to a little canal-side inn, and jim, the horse, who is wiser far than many a professed christian, stops of his own accord. for ransey had gone to sleep--oh, he often rode thus and never fell. he awakes now, however, with a start, and gazes wonderingly around him. his eyes fall upon the sign. and there, in large white letters, the boy can read easily enough though the light is fading--the "bargee's chorus." and not only could he read, but he could remember: it was here they lay that sad, sad night--what a long time ago it seemed--when mother died. here was the landlord himself with his big apron on, a burly fellow with a kindly face, and as tandy stepped on shore he was welcomed with a hearty handshake. "ah: cap'en tandy, and 'ow's you. and here is ransey tansey, bright and bobbish, and little babs, and bob, and everybody. how nice you all look! but la!" he added, "it do seem such a long, long time since you were here before." "i've not had the heart to come much this way, mr shirley. i've been trading at the southern end o' the canal." "and ye've never been here once since you put up the bit of marble slab to mark the spot where _she_ lies?" ransey knew his mother was referred to, and turned aside to hide the tears. "never since," says tandy. "ah, cap'en, many's the one as asks me about that slab. and the old squire himself stopped here one day and got all the story from me. and when i'd finished, never a word he said. he just heaved a biggish sort of a sigh, and went trotting on. "but come in, ransey, babs, and bob, and all. the night's going to be chilly, and an air of the fire will do the children good. "sammy, just take the horse round to the stable. we'll have a bit o' frost to-night, i thinks." ransey runs on board for a few minutes to touch up the fire, put on the guard, and make down the beds; then he joins the group around the cosy parlour fire. the kindly landlady, as plump and rosy as her husband, makes very much of the children, and the supper she places before them is a right hearty one, nor is bob himself forgotten. a very quiet and pleasant evening is spent, then good-nights are said, and the seafaring folks, as they humorously call themselves, go on board to bed. sammy is already sound asleep beneath the tarpaulin, and ransey takes his little sister below to bed at once. but father stops on deck a little while, to think and muse. how still the night is! not a breath of wind now; not a sound save the distant melancholy hooting of an owl as he flies low across the fields, the champ-champing of the horse in the stable, and an occasional plash in the canal as some great frog leaps off the bank. nothing more. but high above shine god's holy stars. there may be melancholy in the old sailor's heart as he gazes skywards, but there is hope as well, for these little points of dazzling light bear his thoughts away to better worlds than this. -----------------------------------------------------------------------it is early morning again, and soon the barge is well on its way. but when it is stopped in the middle of a somewhat lonesome moor, and tandy takes his children on shore, the boy knows right well where they are going, though innocent little babs doesn't. "father," he says presently, as they are near to a clump of tall trees, "isn't it just _here_ where mother was laid?" the rough weather-beaten old sailor uncovers his head. he points to a spot of the canal that is gleaming bright in the rays of the morning sun. "just down there, dear boy," he says. "the coffin was leaded; it could never rise." the last words are spoken apparently to himself, as he turns sadly away towards the trees. still holding ransey's hand, and with babs in his arms, he points to the tallest, strongest tree of all. it is a beautiful beech. and there, about eight feet from the ground, and evidently let deeply into the tree, is a small and lettered slab of marble. the bark has begun to curl in a rough lip over its edge all round as if to hold it more firmly in its place. poor mary. she has gone on. _feby. 19th--82_. the letters were not over-well formed. perhaps they were cut by tandy's own hand. what mattered it? the little tablet was meant but for _his_ eyes. simplicity is best. "poor mary! she has gone on." and the words are written not only there upon the marble, but upon the honest sailor's heart. -----------------------------------------------------------------------end of book one. book 2--chapter one. "just three years since ransey went to sea." "o father," said babs one autumn evening, "aren't _you_ frightened at the roaring of the sea?" tandy and his child were sitting together, that autumn evening, in the best parlour. they were waiting for the postman to come round the corner; and as the waves were making a clean breach over the black, smooth rocks down yonder, and the spray was dashing high over the road and rattling like hail upon the panes of glass in the little cottage window, the postman would be wearing his waterproof cape to-night to keep the letters dry. babs had been watching for a man in a glittering oilskin, very anxiously, too, with her little face close to the glass, when a bigger wave than any she had yet seen rolled green and spumy and swiftly across the boulders, till meeting the resistance offered by the cliff it rose into the air for twenty feet at least, then broke like a waterfall on the asphalt path which was dignified by the name of esplanade. no wonder she rushed back from the window, and now stood trembling by her father's side. he took her gently on his knee. though five years have elapsed since the night they had visited mother's tree, and she is now eight years of age, she is but a little thing. ay, and fragile. as she sits there, with one arm about his neck, he looks at her, and talks to her tenderly. she has her mother's eyes. but how lonely he would be, he cannot help thinking, if anything happened to his little nelda--to babs. the thought causes him to shiver as he sits there in his easy-chair by the fire, for chill is the breeze that blows from off the sea to-night. "daddy!" "yes, dear." "to-morrow, when it comes, will make it just three years since ransey went to sea." "three years? yes, babs, so it will. oh, how quickly the time has flown! and how good your memory is, darling!" "flown quickly, father? oh, i think every one of those years has been much, much longer than the other. and i think," she added, "lazy postie will never come to-night. but i dreamt, daddy, we would have a letter from ransey, and it is sure to come." three years. yes, and years do fly fast away when men or women get elderly. those years though--ay, and the whole five--had been very busy ones with ransey tansey, very eventful, i might almost say. old captain weathereye had proved a right good friend to ransey. nor did he take the least degree of credit to himself for being so. "the boy has got the grit in him," he told miss scragley, "and just a spice of the devil; and without that, i can assure you, madam, no boy is going to get well on in this world." miss scragley didn't care to swallow this doctrine quite; but eedie, whom ransey looked upon as a kind of fairy, or goddess, immeasurably better than himself, took the captain's view of the matter. "oh, yes," she astonished miss scragley by exclaiming, "the devil is everywhere, auntie. mr smith himself said so in the church. he is in roaring lions and in lambs when they lie down together, and in little boys, and then they are best and funniest." miss scragley sighed. "it is a world of sin and sorrow," she murmured. "a world of fiddlesticks, madam!" cried weathereye. "i tell you, it is a splendid world, a grand old world; but you've got to learn how to take your own part in it. take my word for it, miss scragley, the world wasn't made for fools. fools have got to take a back seat, and just look on, while men of grit do the work and enjoy the reward. ahem!" "i've got to make a man of that lad," he went on, "and, what's more, i'm doing it. he needs holy-stoning--i'm holy-stoning him. he may want a little polishing after, but rubbing against the world will do that." "you're very good, captain weathereye; you will be rewarded, if not in this world, in the next--" "tut--tut--tut," cried the old sailor impatiently, and it must be admitted somewhat brusquely, "women folks will talk, especially when they don't know what to say; but pray keep such sentiments and platitudes as these for your next dorcas meeting, madam. reward, indeed! next world, forsooth! i tell you that i'm having it in _this_. i live my own early days over again in the boy's youth. it is moral meat and drink for the old--well, the middle-aged, like myself, ahem!-to mingle with the young and get interested, not so much in their pursuits, because one's joints are too stiff for that, but in their hopes and aspirations for the future which is all before them. ever hear these lines, miss scragley? "`in the lexicon of youth that fate reserves for a bright manhood, there is no such word as fail.' "i'd have them printed on the front page of every copybook laid before a child in school, and i'd have him to learn them as soon as he can lisp." -----------------------------------------------------------------------well, right happy years these had been for ransey tansey, and little babs as well, to say nothing of gentle eedie. as the world began to smile upon tandy himself, he tried to do all he could for his children's comfort. even the little cottage at the foot of the hill was made more ship-shape, and furnished with many a comfort it had previously lacked. tandy was a man of a speculative turn of mind, and moreover inventive. his speculations, however, did not succeed so well as he could have wished. i am never sorry for the downfall of speculators; for, after all, what is speculation but a species of gambling--gambling for high stakes? and supposing that a man wins, which once in a way he may; supposing even that he is strong enough in pocket to establish a "corner," as it is called in yankee-land, to buy up the whole of some great commodity, and shut it up until the people are starving for it and glad to pay for it at three times the original value, well, the corner knight becomes a millionaire. yes; and very often a miser, and miserable at that. can a millionaire enjoy sport or play any better than you or i, reader? no, nor so much. has he a better appetite from the fact that he can afford to coax it with every costly dainty that cash can purchase? more likely a worse. is he more healthy? that were impossible. is he more happy? ah, here we come to the test question. well, he can have a larger and a finer house than most people, and it may be furnished like a palace. pictures of the old masters may adorn its walls; musical instruments of rare value, works of art and vertu, may meet the eye at every turn; the gardens, and rose lawns, and conservatories may be more gorgeous than the dream of an eastern prince. but can he live in more than one room at a time, or enjoy anything around him a bit better than the friends do whom he invites to his home that they may admire everything and envy _him_? but even the millionaire tires of home. he is satiated with the good things his gold has brought him; and if he travels abroad he will not find half the enjoyment in those beauties of nature--which even the millionaire's gold cannot deprive the poorest man of--that the poet or the naturalist does. i think there is one thing that most of us have to be thankful for-namely, that we are not over-ambitious, and have no desire to become millionaires. yes, but tandy's ambition was not a morbid one; it was not selfish. he felt that he could die contentedly enough, could he make as sure as any one can be sure that his boy and girl would not become waifs and strays on the great highway of life. how to make sure? that had been the question he had tried to answer many and many a time as he lay on the poop of his little craft and sailed slowly through the meadows and moors. i have said he was inventive. his inventive faculties, however, took him far too high at first, like a badly ballasted balloon. he thought of ministering to governments of nations--of putting into their hands instruments for the destruction of his fellow mortals that should render war impossible, and many other equally airy speculations. he failed, and had to come down a piece. there is no use in soaring too high above the clouds if one would be a useful inventor and a benefactor to mankind. darning-needles are of more service to the general public than dynamite guns, and they are more easily manufactured. so tandy failed in all his big things. that balloon of his was still soaring too high. "i guess," he said to himself, "i'll have to come a little lower still before i find out just what the world wants, and what _all_ the world wants." food? physic? fire? ha! he had it. fire, of course. how many a poor wretch starves to death in a garret just because coals are too dear to purchase. "and why?" he asked himself; and the answer came fast enough, "because coals are wasted by the rich." then tandy set his brains on to simmer, and invented one of the simplest contrivances in the world for saving waste. yes, he had it at last, and in two years' time he began to gain a competence, which was gradually increasing. this little cottage down by the sad, sad sea, as sentimental old maids call it, was his own. he and babs--or little nelda, as we may now call her--had only been here for six months. the place was by no means a fashionable one, although many people came here in summer to seek for health on the glorious sands and rocks, and among the fields and woods that stretched northwards into the interior. as for ransey tansey, captain weathereye had really done his best to secure the welfare of this half-wild lad, just as miss scragley tried to assist his wee sister. impressionable children learn very quickly, and in a year's time ransey was so much improved in manners that miss scragley rather encouraged his visits to the hall than otherwise, especially when the admiral and bob came along with him. grand old lawns and shrubberies surrounded the hall, and these ended in woods. there were artificial lakes and islands in them too. these islands were the especial property of many beautiful ducks; but one was so large, and surrounded by such a big stretch of water, that the only thing to make it perfect--so ransey thought--was a boat or skiff. eedie was of the same opinion; so was babs and bob. "isn't it possible to build one?" thought ransey. he felt sure it was; so did eedie. before two months had passed, that skiff, with the assistance of weathereye, was a _fait accompli_; and the old captain was just as proud of it as the children themselves. the ducks didn't have it all their own way now on the island. for here a wigwam was built, and almost every fine day--that is, when ransey was not at his lessons--the children played at crusoes and wild indians, and i don't know what all. there was no end to tansey's imagination, no end to his daring, no end to his tricks, and in these last, i fear, eedie encouraged him. she was but two years younger than ransey, but she was four years older as far as worldly wisdom was concerned; and with her assistance the dramas, or theatrical performances, carried out on the island were at times startling in the extreme. when eedie brought children friends of hers to see these plays, ransey would have felt very shy indeed had he not had, figuratively speaking, eedie's wing to shelter under. encouraged by her, he soon found out that real talent can make its own way, and be appreciated, however humble its possessor may be. when tandy first met captain weathereye, he wanted to be profuse in his thanks to this kindly staff-commander. but the latter would have none of this. "tandy," he said, "i know by your every action that you are a true sailor, like--ahem!--myself. perhaps what you call kindness to your boy is only a fad of mine, and therefore selfishness after all." "no, no." "but i can say `yo, yo,' to your `no, no.' besides, we are all of us sailing over the sea of life for goodness knows where, and we are in duty bound to help even little boats we may sight, if we see they're in distress." tandy and weathereye had soon became good friends, and smoked many a pipe together; nor did tandy hesitate to tell the navy sailor about all his inventions and little speculations, to which account the latter listened delightedly enough. "i say," he said to tandy one day, "your lad is now over ten, and we should send him right away to sea. i tell you straight, tandy, i'd get him into the royal navy if it were worth while. but he'd never be a sailor, never learn seamanship." "confound their old tin-kettles," he added, bringing his fist down on the table with a force that made the glasses jingle, "there isn't a sailor on board one of them; only gunners and greasers. [greaser, a disparaging name for an engineer in the royal navy.] let ransey rough it, mr tandy, and you'll make a man of him." an apprenticeship in a dundee trader, owned in belfast, and sailing from cardiff, this was secured; though what use a lad not yet eleven might be put to on board such a craft, i confess i hardly know. but this i _do_ know, that the sooner a boy who is to be a british sailor goes to sea the better. -----------------------------------------------------------------------babs ventured back to the window at last, and glanced once more out into the now gathering gloom. far away beyond selsea bill the sun had set behind lurid coppery clouds, that boded little good for ships that were toiling up the channel. "o daddy, here is postie at long, long last, and he's all, all dressed in oilskins! he is coming to the door! oh!" she could not say another word for a few moments, but flew toward her father. "it is--it is--o daddy! _it's ransey_!" book 2--chapter two. "ship-shape and seaman-fashion." there wasn't a doubt about that, and no lad surely ever got a happier welcome home. bob and murrams knew him, and the admiral too, who danced for joy in the back-garden when ransey tansey went to see him. everybody, with the exception of the father, seemed to walk on air that night. mr tandy was simply quietly happy. ransey was quite a man, babs told him, and she felt sure he would soon have a moustache. indeed, she brought a small magnifying-glass to strengthen her convictions on this point. what a lot lads have to tell when they return from sea for the first time! and their friends cannot give them greater pleasure than by listening to all their adventures and "hairbreadth scapes;" sympathising with them in sorrows past and gone, and dangers encountered, and thanking providence that they have been spared to come safely home from off the stormy ocean. ransey had gone to the old cottage first, not knowing anything about the change. he had found strangers there, and his heart had sunk to zero. "perhaps," he thought, "they are dead and gone." no bob to meet him! no babs! no dancing crane! he hadn't had the heart to go in; he just ran right away to captain weathereye's, and he told him all. ransey had had to sling his hammock here the first night, and visit miss scragley's next day. and eedie was now ten years of age, and shy, but welcomed ransey with a soft handshake and a bonnie blush, and in her little secret morsel of a heart admired him. "didn't i tell you i'd make a man of him, miss scragley? see how tall he is. look at those bold blue eyes of his, and the sea-tan on his cheeks," said the captain. no wonder that it was ransey's turn to blush. "tell your father, dear boy, that in four or five days i'm coming down to b--to see him. a breath of the briny will do an old barnacle like me a power of good." "that i will," the boy had replied. then, after saying good-bye, ransey went off to see mrs farrow; and that good lady was indeed pleased, for she had always had an idea that those who went to sea hardly ever returned. she had to put the corner of her apron to her eyes now; but, if she did shed a tear, it was one of joy and nothing else. well, it would have done your heart good to have witnessed the happiness of ransey and babs, as they wandered hand in hand along the golden sands. bob, too, was so elated that he hardly knew what to do with himself at first. this joy, however, settled down into a watchful kind of care and love for his young master; and he used to walk steadily behind him on the beach as if afraid that, if he once let him out of sight, he might be spirited away and never be seen again. the admiral was quite a seafarer now, and wonderful and sweet were the morsels he found or dug up for himself on the wet stretches of sand. the sea-gulls at first had taken him for something uncanny; but they now took him for granted, and walked about quite close to him, although at times, when this marvellous bird took it into his long head that a dance would do him good and increase his circulation, they were scared indeed, and flew screaming seawards. but the admiral didn't mind that a bit; he just kept dancing away till there really didn't seem to be a bit more dance left in him. then he desisted, and went in for serious eating once more. -----------------------------------------------------------------------one beautiful day, while the dancing crane was holding a levee of sea-gulls, with a sprinkling of rooks, far seawards on the wet sands, while mr tandy was seated, smoking as usual, on a bench with his children near him, bob uttered a defiant kind of a growl, and stood up with his hair on end from ears to rump. a gentleman dressed in blue, with sailor's cap on his head, and reading a newspaper, was approaching the seat, on which there was plenty of room for one more. but it was not at him that bob was growling. no, but at a beautiful scottish collie which was walking by his side. bob rushed forward at once, and the two met face to face and heads up. scottie carried his tail defiantly high. young england would have done the same with his, had he had anything to show. the conversation seemed to be somewhat as follows:-"you and i are about the same size, aren't we?" said bob. "there isn't much to figure on between us, i think," replied scottie. "lower your flag, then, or i'll shake you out of your skin." "scotland never lowered flag to a foreigner yet. why don't you raise your standard? why, because you haven't got one to raise. ha, ha! what a fright you are! i only wonder your master lets you go about like that." "yah--ah--r-r--r-r--r-r!" "waugh--r-r--r-r--r-r--r!" and there _was_ war next second. tandy rushed to the scene of action. "i'm very sorry, sir," he said. "which dog, do you think, began the fight?" "i think they both began it," said the newcomer, laughing. scotland and england were having a terrible tulzie, as scotland and england have often had in days long, long gone by. they were rolling over each other, sometimes bob above, sometimes bob below, and the yellow sands were soon stained with blood. little nelda was in tears, and the admiral scray-scraying and dancing with joy. "i think," said the stranger, "they've both had enough of it, and my proposal is this--i'll pull my dog off by the tail, and you do the same by yours." "i'd gladly do so," said tandy, laughing, "but, my dear sir, the fact is that my dog is like tam o' shanter's mare after she escaped from the witches- "`the ne'er a tail has he to shake.'" dogs are just like men, however, and these two, seemingly satisfied that neither could kill the other, soon made it up, and presently they went galloping off together to the sea to wash the sand out of their shaggy jackets. down sat the stranger between ransey and his father. he rolled up his paper and lit his pipe, and soon the two were engaged in a very animated conversation. sailors all three. no wonder that the acquaintance thus brought about by their honest dogs ripened into friendship in a few days. captain halcott--for so this new friend was named--had, some months before this, reached england after a very long and strangely adventurous cruise. "are you like me, i wonder?" he said to tandy, as they sat smoking the calumet of peace together on a breezy cliff-top, while ransey and his sister were fishing for curios in the pools of water left among the rocks by the receding tide. "are you like me, i wonder? for i am no sooner safely arrived in merrie england than i begin once more to long for life on the heaving billows." "you're a free man, captain halcott; i've got a little family; and you're a somewhat younger man, as well." "yes, yes; granted. but, before going further, tell me what is your christian name?" "dick." "well, and mine's charlie. we're both seafarers; don't let us `mr' each other, or `captain' each other either. you're tandy or you're dick, i'm halcott or i'm charlie, just as, for the time being, the humour may suit us. is that right?" "that's right--ship-shape and seaman-fashion." two brown fists met and were shaken--no mincing landlubber's shake, but a firm and hearty grip and wholesome pressure; a grip that seemed to speak and to say,--"thine, lad, thine! thine in peace or war; in calm or tempest, thine!" how is it that sailors so often resemble one another? i cannot answer the question. but it is none the less true. tandy and halcott appeared to have been cast in the same mould; the same open, bronzed, and weather-beaten faces, the same eyes--eyes that could twinkle with merriment one moment and be filled with pity the next. even captain weathereye himself, although older than either, and somewhat lighter in complexion, might easily have passed as brother to both. "well," said halcott, "i daresay you have a story to tell." "i've had strange experiences in life, and some were sad enough. for the sake of that dear boy and girl, i thank god i am no longer in the grip of poverty; but, my friend, i've seen worse days." "tell us, tandy." tandy told him, sitting there, all the reader already knows and much more, receiving silent but heartfelt sympathy. "so you've sold the _merry maiden_!" "yes; although some of the happiest years of my life were spent on board of her, and in the little cottage. heigho! i wish i could bring back the past; but if i live to be able to afford it, i shall build a house where the old cot stands, and will just end my days there, you know. and now for your story." "oh, that is a strange and a sad one; but as your friend is coming down to-morrow, i propose postponing it. this captain weathereye must, from all you say, be a real jolly fellow." this was agreed to; and next morning tandy met bluff old weathereye at the little railway station. "i'll stay a week, tandy, a whole week. yes, my hearty, i'll gladly make your house my home, and shall rejoice to see your friend, and hear the yarn he has got to spin." book 2--chapter three. a quarterdeck dream. "once a sailor, gentlemen," began halcott, as he filled his pipe, gazing thoughtfully over the sea, "always a sailor. "that's a truism, i believe. why, the very sight of the waves out yonder, with the evening sunlight dancing and playing on their surface, makes me even at this moment long to tread the deck again. "and there are, perhaps, few seafarers who have more inducements to stay at home than i, charlie halcott, have. "i have a beautiful house of my own, and some day soon, i hope, you will both come and see it, and judge for yourselves. "my house has a tower to it. many a night, while walking the quarterdeck keeping my watch, with no companions save the silver-shining stars, i have said to myself--`charlie halcott,' i have said, `if ever you leave off ploughing the ocean wave, and settle down on shore, you must have a house with a tower to it.' "and now i've got it. "a large, square, old-fashioned tower it is, with a mullioned window on each side of it; and up the walls the dense green ivy climbs, with just enough virginia creeper to cast a glamour of crimson over it in autumn, like the last red rays of the setting sun. "one window looks up the valley of the thames, where not far off is a little niagara, a snow-white weir: i can hear the drowsy monotone of its foaming waters by night and by day, and its song is ever the same. another window looks away down the valley, and the river here goes winding in and out among the meadows and the green and daisied leas, till, finally, it takes the appearance of a silver string, and loses itself, or is lost to me, amidst the distant trees. a third window, from which i dearly like to look early on a summer's morning, while the blackbirds are yet in fullest, softest song, shows an english landscape that to me is the sweetest of the sweet. as far as eye can reach, till bounded by the grey horizon's haze, are woods and wilds and meadows green, with the red gables or the roofs of many a stately farm peeping up through the rolling cloudland of foliage; and many a streamlet too, seen here and there in the sunbeams, as it goes speeding on towards the silent river. "but though this house of mine has a tower to it, it is not a castle by any means, apart from the fact that every englishman's house is his castle. i have a tower, but no donjon keep. my castle is a villa--`a handsome modern-built villa,' the agent described it when i commenced correspondence with a view to its purchase. it is indeed a beautiful villa, and it is situated high up on the brow of a hill, all among the dreamy woods. "though i have been but a short spell on shore, my town friends already call me the `sailor hermit,' because i stick to my castle and its woods and gardens. not for a single day can they prevail upon me to exchange it for the bustle and din of hideous london. but i retaliated on my city friends by bringing them down to my `castle' in spring time, when the early flowers were opening their petals in the warm sunshine, and the very tulips seemed panting in the heat, and when there was such a gush of bird-melody coming from grove and copse and hedgerow that every leaf seemed to hide a feathered songster. and i rejoiced to see those friends of mine struck dumb by the wealth of beauty they beheld around them. for philomel was making day melodious with a strange, unearthly music. "all through the darkness the bird sang to his mate, and all through the day as well. no bolder birds than our nightingales live. they sing at our side, at our feet; they sing as they fly, sing as they alight, sing _to_ us, ay and _at_ us defiantly. no wonder we all love this sweet bird, this sweet spirit of the spring. "so my quarterdeck dream has become a dear reality. "strange to say, it is always at night that i think most of the ocean. and on nights of storm--then it is that i lie awake listening to the wind roaring through the stately elms, with a sound like the sough of gale-tossed waves. it is then i long to tread once more the deck of my own bonnie barque, and feel her move beneath me like a veritable thing of life and reason. my house with the ivied tower is well away among the midlands; and yet on nights of tempest, sea-birds--the gull, and the tern, and the light-winged kittywake--often fly around the house and the trees. i can hear their voices rising shrill and high above the roar of the wind. "`kaye--kay--ay--ay,' they scream. `come away--come away--ay,' they seem to cry. `why have you left us? why have you left the seas? we miss you. come away--come away--ay--ay.' "never into my quarterdeck dreams, gentlemen, had there come, strange to say, a companion fair of womankind. my house with the tower to it should be just as it is to-day, just what--following out my dreams--i have made it. its gardens all should bloom surpassing fair, my woods and trees be green; the rose lawns should look like velvet; my ribboned flower-beds like curves of coloured light; the nightingales in spring should bathe in the spray of my fountains,--there should be joy and loveliness and bird-song everywhere, but a wife?--well, i had somehow never dreamt of that. if any of the officers--for i was captain and part owner of the good barque _sea flower_--had been bold enough to suggest such a thing--i mean such a _person_, i should have laughed at him where he stood. `who,' i should have said, `would many a simple sailor like me, over thirty, brown-red in face, and hard in hands. who indeed?' "but into my quarterdeck dreams companions had come. should i not have jolly farmers and solid-looking red-faced squires to dine with me, and to smoke with me out of doors in the cool of midsummer evenings, or in the cosy red parlour around the fire in the long forenights of winter, and listen to my yarns of the dark blue sea, or talk to me of the delights of rural life? well, it was a pretty dream, it must be admitted. "but it never struck me then, as it does now, that all the joys of life are tame indeed, unless shared by some one you love more than all things bright and fair. "a pretty dream--and a beautiful dream. a piece of ice itself is beautiful at times; but perhaps, as we stand and admire it, the sunshine may steal down and melt it. then we find that we love the sunshine even more than we loved the ice. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"it is not every sailor who has the luck to be captain, or, to speak more correctly, master, of so fine a sailing craft as the _sea flower_, at the age of twenty-six. but such had been my fortune; and i had sailed the seas in her for six long years, and, with the exception of the few accidents inseparable from a life at sea, i had never had a serious mishap. many a wild gale had we weathered in her, my mate and i; many a dark and tempestuous night had we staggered along under bare poles; more than once had we sprung a leak, and twice had we been on fire. "but all ended well, and during our brief spells on shore, either in england or in some foreign port, though james and i always managed to enjoy ourselves in our own quiet way, yet neither he nor i was sorry when we got back home again to our bonnie barque, and were once more afloat on the heaving sea. "james was perhaps more of a sailor than i. well, he was some years my senior, and he was browner and harder by far, and every inch a man. and though a very shy one, as far as female society is concerned, he was a very bold one nevertheless. but for his courageous example on the night of our last fire, the _sea flower_ would have helped to swell the list of those ships that go to sea and are heard of no more. "when we were taken aback in a white squall in the indian ocean, and it verily seemed that we had but a few minutes to float, james was here, there, and everywhere, his manly voice, calm and collected, ringing high above the roaring of the wind and the surging of the terrible seas. the very fire of his bravery on that occasion affected the men, and they worked as only bold men can work in face of death and danger, till our craft was once more righted and tearing along before the wind. "and just as brave on shore as afloat was sturdy james malone. "when our steward was attacked by fifty spear-armed savages on shore at the looboo island, my mate seized a club that a gorilla could hardly have wielded, and fought his way through the black and vengeful crowd, till he reached and saved our faithful steward. "and, that day, it was not until he had almost reached the ship that he told me, with that half-shy and quiet smile of his, that he believed he was slightly wounded. then he fainted dead away. "i nursed poor james back to health. yes, but more than once, both before and after that event, he nursed me, and i doubt if even a brother could have been half so kind as my mate james. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"for many a long year, then, james and i had sailed the salt seas together. without james sitting opposite me at the table at breakfast or at dinner, the neatly painted and varnished saloon, with all its glittering odds and ends, wouldn't have seemed the same. without james sitting near me on the quarterdeck on black-dark evenings in the tropics, i should have felt very strange and lonesome indeed. "but james and i didn't agree on every subject on which we conversed. had we done so, conversation would have lost its special charm. no, he aired his opinions and i shook out mine. there were times when i convinced james; there were times when james convinced me; there were times when neither convinced the other, and then we agreed to differ. "`very well, sir,' james would say, `you has your 'pinions, and i has mine. you keeps to your 'pinions, and i sticks to mine.' "it will be noted that james's ordinary english would scarcely have passed muster in the first families of europe. but, like many of his class, james could talk correctly enough when he set himself the task. but there was no better sailor afloat for all that, and on the stormiest night or squalliest day i always felt safe when my first mate trod the planks. "james could tell a good story too, and i used to keep him at it of an evening--any evening save sunday. on sunday, james did nothing in the intervals of duty except read the bible--the `good book,' as he called it. this new testament was one of those large type editions which very old people use. "his mother--dead and gone--had left him that book, and also her gold-rimmed specs, and it was interesting, on a sunday afternoon, to see james sitting solemnly down to the book, and shipping those specs athwart his nose. "`what on earth,' i said once to him, `do you use the specs for, my friend?' "when james looked up at me, half-upbraidingly, those eyes of his, seen through the powerful lenses, looked as big and wild and round as a catamount's. it was unearthly. "`my mother bade me. would you disobey your mother?' "this was a bombshell, and i said no more. "but there was one subject on which james and i never disagreed--namely, `the ladies,' as he called women folks. `they are deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked,' james would say, `and i means to steer clear on 'em.' and james always did. "there was one pleasure james and i had in common--namely, witnessing a good tragedy on the boards of liverpool theatre. you see this was our port of destination on our return from the far, far south. mind, we wouldn't go to see a drama, because there might be too much nonsensical love business in it, and too many of `the frivolous antics of women'-james's own words. but in a tragedy the women often came to grief, which james thought was only natural. "so we chose tragedy. "now, one night at this same theatre, i had one of the strangest experiences of my life; and never yet have i found any one who could explain it. "james and i had gone early that evening, because there was something specially tragic on, and we desired to secure good seats. we sat in the front row, and at the left end of the row, because we wished to leave the theatre between each act to enjoy a few whiffs of tobacco. "the play was well begun, and my eyes were riveted on the stage. there was a momentary silence, and during this time i was sensible, from a slight rustling noise, that the private box behind and above me was being occupied. "did you ever hear psychologists mention the term or feeling `ecstasy'? that was what stole over me now. for a few minutes i saw nothing on the stage; only a feeling of intense happiness, such as i have seldom experienced since that night, stole over me, occupying, bathing, i may say, my whole soul and mind. "i turned at last, and my eyes met those of a young lady in that private box. never before had i seen such radiant beauty. never had i been impressed with beauty of any kind before. my heart almost stood still. it was really an awful moment--that is, if intense happiness can ever be awful. "well, if it is possible for a sailor, with a face as brown as the back of a fiddle, to blush, i blushed. she, too, i think, coloured just a little. "what was it? what could it mean? "i know not how i sat out the act. when i rose with james to go out, i dared one other glance towards the box. the lady had gone, and a feeling of coldness crept round my heart. i felt as depressed now as i had recently felt happy. "`james,' i said, `take me home, i--i believe i'm ill.' "`why,' said james, `you look as though you had seen a ghost.' "i got home. something, i knew not what, was going to happen; but all that night dream after dream haunted my pillow, and of every dream, the sweet young face i had seen in the private box was the only thing i could remember when daylight broke athwart the eastern sky." book 2--chapter four. "dear, unselfish, but somewhat silly fellow." "i never had a secret from james malone; no, not so much as one. had i known what was the matter with me on the evening before, i should have told james manfully and in a moment. "but when he came to my rooms in the morning, to share my humble breakfast, and consult about the duties of the day, we being just then fitting out for sea,-"`james,' i began-"and then--well, then i told him all the story, even down to my strange dreams and the sweet young face that had haunted them. "`why, james,' i concluded, `i have only to close my eyes now to see her once again, and i can neither read nor write without thinking of her.' "james sat silently beholding me for fully a minute. his face was clouded, and pity and anxiety were in every lineament of his manly features. "`i'm taken aback,' he stammered at last. `white squalls is nothin' to it. charlie halcott, you're _in love_. it's an awful, fearful thing. no surgical operation can do anything for you. it's worse by far than i thought. a mild touch of the cholera would be mere moonshine to this. a brush wi' yellow jack wouldn't be a circumstance to it. o halcott, halcott! o charlie! what _am_ i to do with you?' "`james,' i interrupted, `light your pipe. did _you_ see the beautiful vision--the lovely child?' "`i followed your eyes.' "`and what saw you, james?' i asked, leaning eagerly towards him. "`i saw what appeared to be--a woman. nothin' more and nothin' less.' "`james, did you not notice her blue and heavenly eyes, that seemed to swim in ether; her delicately pencilled eyebrows; the long lashes that swept the rounded rosy cheeks; her golden hair like sunset's glow; her little mouth; her lips like the blossom of the blueberry, and the delicate play of her mobile countenance?' "`delicate play of a mobile marling-spike!' cried james, jumping up. he rammed a piece of paper into his pipe and thrust it into his pocket. "`charles halcott, i'm off,' he cried. "`off, james?' "`yes, off. every man jack shall be on board the _sea flower_ to-day, bag and baggage. we'll drop down stream to-morrow morning early, ship a pilot, and get away to sea without more ado.' "he was at the door by the time he had finished but he stopped a moment with a look of wondrous pity on his handsome face, then came straight back and clasped my hand in brotherly affection, and so, without another word, walked out and away. "now, i was master of the _sea flower_, but in the matter of sailing next day--three or four whole days before i had intended--i should no more have thought of gainsaying honest james malone than of disobeying my father had he been alive. james was acting towards me with true brotherly affection, quite disinterestedly in my behalf, and--_quien sabe_?--probably saving me from a lifetime's misery. "i would be advised by james. "so after he had left, and i had smoked in solitary sadness for about an hour, i rose with a sigh, and commenced throwing my things together in the great mahogany sea-chest that while afloat stood in my state-room, and which on shore i never travelled without. "for the whole of that forenoon i wandered about the streets of liverpool, looking chiefly at the photographers' windows. i was bewitched, and possessed some faint hope of seeing a photograph of her who had bewitched me. i even entered the shops under pretence of bargaining for a likeness of my sailor-self, and looked over their books of specimens. "had i come across her picture, the temptation to purchase it would, i fear, have proved irresistible. "suddenly i pulled myself taut up with a round turn, and planked myself, so to speak, on my mental quarterdeck before commander conscience. "`what are you doing, or trying to do, charles halcott?' said commander conscience. "`only trying,' replied charles halcott, `to procure a photograph of the loveliest young lady on earth, whose eyes shine like stars in beauty's night.' "`don't be a fool, charles halcott. are you not wise enough to know that, even if you procure this photograph, you will have to keep it a secret from honest james malone? his friendship is better far than love of womankind. besides,' added commander conscience, `you need no photograph. is not the image of the lady who has bewitched you indelibly photographed upon your soul? charles halcott, i am ashamed of you!' "i stood at a window for a few minutes, looking sheepish enough; then i threw temptation to the winds, put about, and sailed right away back to my chambers, studding-sails set low and aloft. "i finished packing, saw my owners in the afternoon, and when james came off to the ship he found me quietly smoking my biggest pipe in the saloon of the _sea flower_. "he smiled now. "`better already,' he said; `his name be praised!' "james was a strange man in some ways. this was one: he thanked heaven for every comfort, even the slightest, and did nothing without, in a word or two, asking a blessing thereon. "in three days' time we were staggering southwards, and away across biscay's blue bay, with every inch of canvas set. and a pretty sight we were--our white sails flowing in the sunshine--the sea as blue as the sky, and the waves sparkling around us as if every drop of water contained a diamond. "all the way to the cape, and farther, james treated me as tenderly and compassionately as if i had been an invalid brother. he never contradicted me even once. he used to keep me talking and yarning on the quarterdeck, when he wasn't on watch, for whole hours at a stretch; and in the evenings, when tired spinning me yarns, he would take his banjo and sing to me old sea-songs in his bold and thrilling voice. and james could sing too; there were the brine, and the breeze, and the billows' roll in every bar of the grand old songs he sang, and indeed i was never tired of listening to them. sometimes i closed my eyes as i sat in my easy-chair; then james's banjo notes grew softer and softer, and ever so much farther away like, till at last it was ghostly music, and i was in the land of dreams. "when i awoke, perhaps it would be four bells or even six, and there would be james, with his specs athwart his great jibboom of a nose, poring earnestly over his mother's bible. "`you've had a nice little nap,' he would say cheerfully. `now you'll toddle off to your bunk, and when you're safe between the sheets i'll bring you a tiny little drop of rum and treacle.' "poor james! rum and treacle was his panacea for every ill; and yet i don't believe any one in the wide world ever saw james the worse of even rum and treacle. "when we got as far as to madeira, he proposed we should anchor here for a few days and dispose of some of our notions. notions formed our cargo; and notions must be understood to mean, captain weathereye, all kinds of jewellery and knick-knacks, including table-knives and forks, watches, strings of bright beads, cotton cloths, parasols, and guns. now i knew very well that we could easily dispose of all our cargo at the cape and other parts; but i also knew very well that james's main object in stopping at madeira was to give me a few delightful days on shore. "this was part of the cure, and i had to submit with the best grace i could. "we had, at that time, as handy and good a second mate as any one could wish on the weather side of a quarterdeck. so it was easy enough for myself and james to leave the ship both at the same time, though this had very seldom been our custom, except when in dock or in harbour. "to put it in plain language, james did not seem to know how good to be to me, nor how much to amuse me. the honest, simple soul kept talking and yarning to me all the while, and pointing out this, that, and the other strange thing to me, until i was obliged to laugh in his face. but james was not offended; not he. he was working according to some plan he had formulated in his own mind, and nothing was going to turn him aside from his purpose. "about midday we entered the veranda of a cool and delightful hotel, and seating ourselves at a little marble table, james called for cigars and iced drinks. then he proposed we should luncheon. no, he would pay, he said; it was not often he had the honour or pleasure of lunching with his captain, in a marble palace like this. so he pulled out an old sock tied round with a morsel of blue ribbon, and thrusting his big brown paw into it, brought forth money in abundance. "`never been here before?' he asked me quietly. "`no,' i said; `strange to say i've touched at nearly every port in the world except this place.' "`well, i have,' said james, `and i'm going to put you up to the ropes.' "`now,' he continued, when we stood once more under the greenery of the trees that bordered the broad pavement, `will you have a hammock or a horse?' "not knowing quite what he meant, i replied that i would leave it to him. "`well,' he said, `this must be considered a kind of picnic, them's my notions, and as you're far from well yet, i'll have a horse and you a hammock.' "both horse and hammock were soon brought round to the door. the hammock was borne by two perspiring half-caste portuguese, and was attached to a pole, and on board i swung, while james got on board the horse. the saddle was a hard and horrid contrivance of leather and wood, the stirrups a pair of old slippers, and the horse himself--well, he was a beautiful study in equine osteology, and i really did not know which to pity most, james or his rosinante. but in my hammock i felt comfortably, dreamily happy. "we passed through the quaint old town of funchal, then upwards, and away towards the mountains. the day was warm and delightful--hot indeed james must have found it, for he soon divested himself of coat and waistcoat, and even then he had to pause at times to wipe his streaming brow. the peeps at the beautiful gardens i caught while being carried along were charming in the extreme; the verandaed and trellised villas, canopied with flowers of every hue and shape, the bright green lawns where fairy-like children played, and the flowering trees--the whole forming ever-changing scenes of enchantment--i shall never forget. then the soft and balmy air was laden with perfume. "`how nice,' i thought, `to be an invalid! how kind of james to treat me as one! and he jogging along there on that bony horse's back, with the boy holding fast by the tail! dear, unselfish, but somewhat silly fellow!' "upwards still, steeper and steeper the hill. and now we seemed to have mounted into the very sky itself, and were far away from the tropics and tropical flora. "we came at last to a table-land. for the life of me i could not help thinking of the story of `jack and the bean-stalk.' here gorgeous heaths and heather bloomed and grew; here birds of sweet song flitted hither and thither among the scented and the yellow-tasselled broom; and here solemn weird-like pine-trees waved dark against the far-off ocean's blue. "under some of these trees, and close to the cliff, we disembarked to rest. we were fully half a mile above the level of the sea. yet not a stone's throw from where we sat was the edge of the awful cliff that led downwards without a break to that white line far beneath where the waves frothed and fumed against the rocks. "but far as the eye could reach, till lost in distance and merged into the blue of the sky, lay the azure sea, with here and there a sail, the largest of which looked no bigger than a white butterfly with folded wings. "a delicious sense of happiness stole over me, and for the first time, perhaps, since leaving england i forgot the sweet young face that had so completely bewitched me. "i think i must have fallen asleep, for the next thing i was sensible of was james tuning a broad guitar. "then his voice was raised in song, and i closed my eyes again, the better to listen. "poor james, he played and sang for over an hour; no wild, wailing sea-songs this time, however, but verses sweet and plaintive, and far more in harmony with the notes of the sad guitar. the romance of our situation, the stillness of our surroundings, unbroken save in the intervals of song by the flitting of a wild bird among the broom, and the low whisper of the wind through the pine-trees overhead, with the balmy ozonic air from the blue ocean, continued to instil into my soul a feeling of calm and perfect joy to which i had hitherto been a stranger. "just as the sun was sinking like a great blood orange through a purple haze that lay along the western horizon, james laughingly handed the guitar to the boy who had carried it. then laughing still--he was so strange and good this james of mine--he pulled out a silver-mounted flask and poured me out a portion of its contents. "it was a little rum and treacle. "`the dews of night isn't going to harm you after that,' said james. "lights were glimmering here and there on the hills like glow-worms, and far beneath us in the town, long before we reached the streets of funchal. "we went straight to the hotel and discharged both horse and hammock. "then we dined. "i thought i should be allowed to go on board after this. not that there was the slightest hurry. "however, i was mistaken for once. james had not yet done with me for the night. i had still another prescription of his to use; and as i knew it was part and parcel of james's love cure, i could not demur. he had given me so much pleasure on that day already, that when he asked me to get up and follow him i did so as obediently as the little lamb followed mary. "but that he, james malone, who feared womankind, if he did not positively hate them, should lead me to a portuguese ballroom of all places in the world, surprised me more than anything. "i could hear the tinkling of guitars, the shuffling of feet, and the music of merry, laughing voices, long before we came near the door. "i stopped short. "`james,' i said, `haven't you made some mistake?' "his only answer was a roguish laugh. "i repeated the question. "`not a bit of it,' he answered gaily. "`charlie halcott,' he added, `if you were simply suffering from yellow jack i'd hand you over to a doctor, but, charles halcott, it takes a _man_ to cure love. and you've been sorely hit.' "this had been a day of surprises, but when i entered that ballroom there came the greatest surprise of all. those here assembled were not so-called gentle-folks. they were the sons and daughters of the ordinary working classes; but the taste displayed, the banks of flowers around the orchestra, the gay bouquets and coloured lights along the walls, the polished and not overcrowded floor, the romantic dresses of the gallants that transported one back to the middle ages, the snow-white costumes of the ladies, and, above all, their innocent, ravishing beauty, formed a scene that reminded me strongly of stories i had read in the arabian nights' entertainments. "i was almost ashamed of my humble attire, but the courtesy of the master of ceremonies was charming. would the strangers dance? surely the stranger sailors would dance? he would get us, as partners, the loveliest senoritas in all the room. "so he did. "i forgot everything in that soft, dreamy waltz--everything save the thrilling music and the sylph-like form of my dark-eyed partner, who floated with me through the perfumed air, for surely our feet never touched the floor. "but the drollest thing of all was this--james was dancing too. james with his--well, i must not say aversion to, but fear and shyness of womankind, was dancing; and i knew he was only doing so to encourage me. a handsome fellow he looked, too, almost head and shoulders taller than any man there, and broad and well-knit in proportion. the master of ceremonies had got him a partner `for to match,' as he expressed it; certainly a beautiful girl, with a wealth of raven hair that i had never seen equalled, far less surpassed. i daresay she could dance lightly; but james's waltzing was of a very solid brand indeed, and he swung his pretty partner round the room in a way that seemed to indicate business rather than pleasure. several couples cannoned off james and went ricochetting to the farther end of the room, and one went down. james swung past me a moment after, apparently under a heavy press of canvas, and as he did so i heard him say to his partner, referring to the couple he had brought to deck,-"`they should keep out o' the way, then, when people are dancing.' "the hours sped quickly by, as they always do in a ballroom, and by the time james and i got on board the _sea flower_ four bells in the middle-watch were ringing out through the still, dark night. but all was safe and quiet on board. "i took a turn on deck to enjoy a cigar before going below, just by way of cooling my brow. when i went down at last, why, there was james seated at the table, his mother's bible before him, and, as usual, the awful specs across his nose. "poor james, he was a strange man, but a sincere friend, as the sequel will show." book 2--chapter five. "till the sea gives up its dead." from madeira, where we stayed for many days, going on shore every forenoon to sell some of our cargo to the shopkeepers, and every afternoon for a long ride--horse and hammock--over some part or other of this island of enchantment, sometimes finishing up with a dance--from all this pleasure and delight, i say, we sailed away at last. "south and away we sailed, and in due time we reached and anchored off saint james's town, saint helena. "now, saint helena had not figured in our programme when we left merry england. but here we were, and a most delightful place i found it. hills and dells, mountains and glens; wild flowers everywhere; and the blue eternal sea dotted with many a snow-white sail, engirdling all. this, then, was the `lonely sterile rock in the midst of the wild tempestuous ocean,' to which napoleon had been banished. "james had been here before, although i had not, so everything was of interest to me, and everything new. and my good mate determined to make it as pleasant for me as possible. he seemed to know every one, and every one appeared delighted to see him. such remarks as the following fell upon our ears at every corner:-"`well, you've got back again, james?' "`what! here you are once more, james, and welcome.' "`dee--lighted to see you, certain--lee!' "`ah! jeames,'--this from a very aged crone, who was seated on a stone dais near her door, basking in the warm, white sunshine--`ah! jeames, and sure the lord is good to me. and my old eyes are blessed once more wi' a sight o' your kindly face!' "`glad to see you alive, frilda. and look, i have got a pound of tea for you. and i'll come to-night and read a bit out of my mother's good book to you.' "`bless you, jeames--bless you, my boy.' "we went rambling all over the island that day. we visited the fort, where james had many friends; then we went up a beautiful glen, and on reaching the top we struck straight off at right angles, and a walk of about half a mile took us to one of the most pleasantly situated farms i have ever seen. it was owned by the farmer, a scotsman of the name of macdonald. nothing flimsy about this fine house. the walls were built of sturdy stone, and must have been some feet thick, so that indoors in the cheerful parlour it was cool and delightful, especially so with the odour of orange blossom blowing through the open window and pervading the whole room. "`man, james, i'm so pleased. here! hi! mrs mac, where are you? here's james malone, the honest, simple sumph come back again. jamie, man, ye must stop all night and give us a song.' "`we--ll--i--' "`no _wells_ nor _i's_ about it. and your friend here too.' "mrs mac was a very little body, with rosy cheeks, a merry voice, and blue eyes that looked you through and through. "a little girl and boy came running in, and james soon had one on each knee; and while i and macdonald talked in the window recess, he was deep in the mysteries of a mermaid story, his tiny audience listening with wondering eyes and rosy lips apart. "mrs mac had gone bustling away to send in a dram of hollands, cunningly flavoured with seeds and fruit rind. she disappeared immediately again, to send orders down to james's town for fish and fowl. "of course we would stay all night? "`well,' i said, `the ship is safe, unless a tornado blows.' "`there will be no tornado, sir,' said farmer mac. "`i'll send off, then, and tell the second mate.' "`my henchman is at your service, captain halcott.' "`and look, see,' cried james, `just tell your henchman to bring my good book and specs. i haven't the heart to disappoint old mother banks.' "`and the guitar,' i added. "`well--well, yes.' "the children clapped their hands with glee, and maggie, the girl, pulled james's face towards her by the whiskers and kissed him. "we started next for longwood and napoleon's tomb. maggie and jack--ten and nine years old respectively--came with us, and a right pleasant day we spent. there were bright-winged birds flitting hither and thither in the dazzling sunshine, and singing sweet and low in trees of darkest green; but the happy voices of the children made sweeter music far to my ears, and i'm sure to james's too. "all along the roadsides at some parts grew the tall cacti; they were one mass of gorgeous crimson bloom, and here and there between, the ground was carpeted with trailing blossoms white and blue; yet, in my opinion, the laughing rosebud lips of maggie and jack's saucy eyes of blue were prettier far than the flowers. "and here, on the top of the dingle or glen, and overlooking the sea, were napoleon's house and garden. "`why, james,' i cried, `this isn't a dungeon any more than saint helena is a rock. it strikes me--a simple sailor--that nap must have had fine times of it.' "`no, sir, no,' said james, shaking his head. `plenty to eat and drink, plenty o' good clothes to wear, but ah! charles halcott, he wasn't free, and there burned inside him an unquenchable fire. when in action, on the field, or on the march, he had little time to think; but here, in this solitude, the seared conscience regained its softness, and in his thoughts by day and in his dreams at the dead hours o' night, charles halcott, rose visions of the terrible misery he brought on europe, and the black and awful deeds he did in egypt. o sir, if you want to punish a man, leave him alone to his conscience!' "james malone was in fine form that evening at farmer mac's. he sang and he yarned time about--the songs for the children, the yarns for us. parodying tam o' shanter, i might say:- "`the nicht drave on wi' sangs and clatter, wi' childish glee, wi' bairnies' patter; the sailor tauld his queerest stories, the farmer's laugh was ready chorus; till, hark! the clock strikes in the hall the wee short oor ayont the twal.' "before dinner that evening simple james had gone to see old mother banks, and he spent a whole hour with her. "`good-bye, dear laddie,' she said, when he rose to leave; `i'll pray for ye on the ragin' sea, but i know the lord will never let me behold ye again.' "and simple james's eyes were wet with tears as he held her skinny hand for a moment, then dropped it and bore away up the street, never once looking back, so full was his heart. "when the clock struck one, james shyly proposed a few moments' devotion. then he mounted the awful specs and opened the good book. "half an hour after this, all in the great house were asleep, and not a sound could i hear--for i lay long awake thinking--save the sighing of the wind in the trees above my open jalousies, to me a very sweet and soothing sound. "`heigho!' i murmured to myself. `will i _ever_ have a home on the green earth, i wonder, or shall i die on the blue sea?' "then i began to doze, and mingling with my waking thoughts came dreams which proved that poor james's prescriptions had not yet been entirely successful. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"just three weeks after this we were far away in the centre of the south atlantic ocean, and bearing up for rio de janeiro. the sea around us was of the darkest blue, but sparkling in the sunshine, and there was just sufficient wind to gladden the heart of a sailor. "what induced james and me to change our plans and sail west instead of south and east, i never could tell, though i have often thought about it. a friend of mine says it was fate, and that fate often rules the destinies of men, despite all that can be done to alter her plans and intentions. this line of reasoning may be right; my friend is so often right that i daresay it must be. "but one thing now occurred to me that at times rendered me rather uneasy, and which, when i tried to describe it to james, caused that honest sailor some anxiety also. i have spoken of it more than once to so-called psychologists and even to so-called mediums; but their attempted explanations, although seemingly satisfactory enough to themselves, sounded to me like a mere chaos of words, the meaning of which as a whole i never could fathom. but the mystery with me was this: i seemed at times to be possessed of a second self, or rather, a second soul. "i struggled against the feeling all i could, but in vain. james read his mother's bible to me, and otherwise, not in a spiritual way, he did all he could to cheer me up, as he phrased it. but--and here comes in the most curious part of it--i did not feel that i wanted any cheering up. i was happy enough in the companionship of my second self. this was not always present. sometimes absent for days indeed, and never as yet did it talk to me in my dreams. at other times it came, and would be with me for hours; and it spoke to my mind as it were, i being compelled to carry on a conversation, in thought, of course, but never once did i have any notion beforehand as to what the remarks made were to be. they were simple in the extreme, and usually had reference to the working or guidance of the ship, the setting or shortening of sail, and making the good barque snug for the night. "we called at rio. the harbour here could contain all the war fleets in the world; grand old hills; a city as romantic as edinburgh--that is, when seen from the sea--quaintness of streets, a wealth and beauty of vegetation, of treescape and flowerscape, that i have never seen equalled anywhere, and a quaintly dressed, quiet, and indolent people. "we landed much stores here and filled up with others. on the whole, james and i were not sorry we had come, we drove such excellent bargains. "again, at buenos ayres, with its fine streets and public buildings, and its miles upon miles of shallow sea all in front, we did trade enough to please us. "`when i retire from sailing the salt seas, sir,' said james, `it's 'ere and nowhere else i'm goin' to make my 'ome; and i only wish the old lady were livin', for then i'd retire after the very next voyage.' "shortly after resuming our voyage southwards towards the stormy cape horn, we encountered gale after gale of wind that taxed all the strength of our brave barque, as well as the skill of the officers and seamen. again and again had we to lie to for long dark days and nights; and when we ventured to run before the storm, we had literally to stagger along under bare poles. "but when we reached the cape at last, and stood away to the west around the bleak and inhospitable shores of tierra del fuego, or the land of fire, never before in all the years i had been to sea had i encountered weather so fearful or waves so high and dangerous. so stormy, indeed, did it continue, that hardly did either james or i dare to hope we should ever double the cape. but we both had a sailor's aversion to turning back, and so struggled on and on. "the danger seemed to culminate and the crisis come in earnest, when one weird moonlight midnight we suddenly found ourselves bows on to a huge iceberg, or rather one vast island of ice that appeared to have no horizon either towards the north or towards the south. the barrier presented seemed impassable. we could only try, so we put about on the port tack, the wind blowing there with great violence from the west and north. "this course took us well off the great ice island. it took us southwards, moreover. "`but why not steer northwards?' said james. `we'd have to tack a bit, it is true, only we'd be lessening our danger; leastways that's my opinion. this berg may be twenty or thirty miles long, and every mile brings us closer to great bergs that, down yonder, float in dozens. before now, charles halcott, i've seen a ship sunk in the twinkling of a marling-spike by a--' "`by striking against a berg, james?' i interrupted. `so have i.' "`no, sir, no; you're on the wrong tack. wherever big bergs are there are small ones too--little, hard, green lumps of ice, not bigger than the wheel-house, that to hit bows on would scarcely spill your tea. but, friend, it is different where there are mountain seas on. these little green bergs are caught by a wave-top and hurled against the ship's side with the strength of a thousand titans. and--the ship goes down.' "there was something almost solemn in the manner james brought out the last four words. it kept me silent for minutes; and shading my eyes with my hand, i kept peering southwards into the weird-like moonshine, the ice away on the right, a strange white haze to leeward, and far ahead the foam-tipped waves, wild-maned horses of the ocean, careering along on their awful course. "`james,' i said at last, `danger or not danger, southwards i steer. something tells me to do so; everything bids me. "steer south--steer south," chimes the bell when it strikes; "steer south," ticks the clock. james malone, my very heart's pulse repeats the words; and i hear them mournfully sung by the very waves themselves, and by the wind that goes moaning through the rigging. and--i'm going to obey.' -----------------------------------------------------------------------"for nights i had hardly slept a wink, but now i felt as if slumber would soon visit my pillow if i but threw myself on the bed. the moon, a full round one, was already declining in the west when i went below and turned in all standing, and in three minutes' time i had sunk into a deep and dreamless sleep. "james told me afterwards that it had taken him one long minute of solid shaking and shouting to arouse me, but he succeeded at last. "`anything wrong, james?' i said anxiously, as i sat up in my cot. "`can't say as there's anything radically wrong, sir,' he replied slowly. `leastways, our ship's all right. wind and sea have both gone down. we've doubled the berg at last, and a good forty mile she was, and now we're nearing another. but the strange thing is this, sir. there is men on it, a-waving their coats and things, and makin' signs. i can just raise 'em with our mons meg glass.' "`some natives of tierra del fuego, perhaps,' i said. `anyhow, james,' i added, `keep bearing up towards them.' "`ay, ay, sir.' "in ten minutes' time i was on deck, glass in hand. "it was a grey uncertain morning, the sun just rising astern of us, and tingeing the wave-tops with a yellow glare. "i could see the people on the ice with the naked eye. but i steadied mons meg on the bulwark, and had a look through that. "`mercy on us, james!' i cried, `these are no savages, but our own countrymen or americans. i can count five alive, and oh, james, three lie at some little distance stretched out dark and stiff. shake another reef out--those people want us. a sad story will be theirs to tell.' -----------------------------------------------------------------------"we got them all on board at last, though with difficulty, for the surf was beating high above the snow-clad ice, and twice our boat was dashed against the hard, green edge of the monster berg, her timbers cracking ominously. we brought off the dead too, and buried them in a christian way, james himself reading over them the beautiful service of the english church. though they were strangers to us, yet, as their bodies dropped down into the darkling sea, many a tear was shed that our fellows scarce took pains to hide. "`and there they'll sleep,' said a voice behind me, `till the sea gives up its dead.' "i turned slowly round, and the eyes of the speaker met mine. hitherto i had paid most attention to the lifeless, and scarce had noticed the living. "but now a strange thrill went through me as this man, who was the skipper of the lost ship, advanced with a sad kind of smile on his face and held out his hand. "`we have met before,' he said. "`we seem to have met before,' i answered falteringly, `but where i cannot tell. perhaps you--' "`yes, i can; i have seen you in a dream. we must both have dreamt.' "i staggered as if shot, and pressed my hand to my brow. "`you seem puzzled,' he continued, `yet i am not. i am a man who has studied science somewhat. i am often called a visionary on account of my theories, yet i am convinced that there are times when, in answer to prayer, the mind during sleep may be permitted to leave the body. you, sir, have saved the few poor fellows of my ship's crew who have escaped death, and i thank you. think nothing strange, sir, in this world simply because you do not understand it. but you have an errand of mercy yet to perform. heaven grant you may be as successful in that as you have been in taking our poor helpless men from off the ice.' "`come below,' i said, `captain--a--' "`smithson,' he put in. "`come below, captain smithson, and tell your story. james, will you bear us company?' "i and james sat on one side of the table, our guest, with his thin, worn face and dark eyes that seemed to pierce us with their very earnestness, on the other. he told his story rapidly--ran over it, as it were, as a school-boy does something he has learned by heart. "`it is but little more than five weeks since the good yacht _windward_ cleared away from san francisco--' "`james,' i said, interrupting him, `how long have we been at sea?' "`wellnigh four months, sir.' "`how the time has flown! pray, sir, proceed.' "`i have never known a quicker passage than we had. the wind was fair all the way, and our little craft appeared to fly with it. but it fell dead calm about the latitude of 20 degrees south of the line. my only passengers--in fact, it was they who had chartered the _windward_ to take them to monte video--a lady and her daughter, began to be very uneasy now. they had heard so much about the fleetness of the _windward_ that they never expected a hitch. no wonder they were uneasy. their business in monte video was a matter of life or death. the doctor there had assured them that if they were not out by a certain time, the husband and father would never again be seen by them alive. "`but the calm was not of long duration. worse was to come--a tornado burst upon us with awful fury, and all but sunk us. we were carried far to the west out of our course. fierce gales succeeded the tempest; and when the wind once more sank to rest we found ourselves surrounded by a group of islands that, although i have sailed the south pacific for many a long year, i had never seen before. "`that the natives of the largest and most beautiful of these islands are savages and man-hunters i have not the slightest doubt. the king himself came off, evincing not the slightest fear of us; but both he and his people remained so strangely pacific that it excited our suspicions for a time. we were glad, however, to be able here to repair damages and to take on board fresh water; and the kindness of the natives was so marked that our suspicions were entirely lulled, and for days we lived almost among them, even going on shore unarmed in the most friendly way. "`i must tell you, sir, that, owing to the heat and closeness of the atmosphere, a screen-berth or tent had been rigged for the ladies close to the bulwark on the port side, and almost abreast of the main-mast. the first part of the night of the tenth was exceedingly dark, and it was also hot and sultry. the ladies had retired early, for a thunderstorm that had been threatening about sunset broke over us with tropical fury about ten by the clock, or four bells--the first watch. "`and now, sir, comes the mystery. the moon rose at twelve and silvered all the sea, shedding its earth light upon the green-wooded hills of the mainland till everything looked ethereal. not a sound was to be heard, except now and then the plaintive cry of a sea bird, and the dull, low moan of the breakers on the coral sand. "`as was her custom just before turning in, the ladies' maid drew aside their curtain to see if they wanted anything, and to say good-night. "`i was walking the quarterdeck smoking, when pale and scared she rushed toward me. "`oh!' she almost screamed, `they are gone! the ladies have gone!' "`no one thought of turning in that dreadful night; and when in the morning the sun, red and flaming, leapt out of the sea, arming a boat as well as i could, i rowed on shore and demanded audience of the king. "`but we were not allowed to land. the savages had assumed a very different attitude now, and a shower of spears was our welcome. one poor fellow was killed outright, another died of his wounds only an hour afterwards. in fact, we were beaten off; and in an hour's time, observing a whole fleet of boats coming off to attack our vessel, we were forced to hoist sail and fly. "`that is my story, and a sad one it is. i was on my way to the nearest town to seek assistance, when our vessel was crushed in the ice and sank in less than twenty minutes, with all on board except those you have seen.' "smithson was silent now. with his chin resting on his hand he sat there looking downwards at the deck, but apparently seeing nothing. for many minutes not a word was spoken by any one. the vessel rose and fell on the long, rolling seas; there was the creak of the rudder chains; there was occasionally the flapping of a sail; all else was still. "james malone was the first to speak. "`charles halcott,' he said--and i think i hear the earnest, manly tones of his voice at this moment--`charles halcott, we have a duty to perform, and it leads us to the northward and west.' "i stood up now, and our hands met and clasped. "`james malone,' i replied, `heaven helping us, we will perform that duty faithfully and well.' "`amen, sir! amen!'" book 2--chapter six. "o my friend, my brother," i cry. "that same forenoon," continued halcott, "the wind went veering round to the southward and east. the sea was darkly, intensely blue all day. the sky was intensely blue at night, and the stars so big and bright and near they seemed almost to touch the topmasts. but here and there in the darkness, on every side of us, loomed white icebergs like sheeted ghosts, and every now and then there rolled along our beam--thudding against the timbers as they swept aft--the smaller bergs or `bilts' we could not avoid. "james was on deck, and determined to remain there till morning, in order, as he said, to give me the quiet and rest my health so much required. "in two days' time we had weathered the stormy cape, bidden farewell to the ice, and, with every stitch of canvas set which it was possible to carry safely, were sailing westward and north, away towards the distant islands of the south pacific. "in a few days we got into higher latitudes, and the weather became delightfully warm and pleasant. the sky was more than italian in its clear and cloudless azure; the rippling waves were all a-sparkle with light; they kissed the bows of our bonnie barque, and came lapping and laughing aft along our counter, their merry voices seeming to talk to us and bid us welcome to these sunny seas. "birds, too, came wheeling around our ship--strange, swift gulls, the lonesome frigate-bird, and the wondrous albatross, king of storms, great eagle of the ocean wave. "had we not been upon the strange mission on which we were now bound, and the outcome of which we could not even guess, both james and i would have enjoyed this delightful cruise; for, like myself, he was every inch a sailor, and loved his ship as a landsman may love his bride. "`in five days' time,' said captain smithson to me one forenoon, `if it holds like this, we ought to reach the unfortunate islands.' "`is that what you call them, captain?' i said, smiling; `well, my first mate and i mean to change their name.' "`heaven grant you may,' he answered. `o sir, the loss of this yacht, clipper though she was, and a beauty to boot, is nothing to mourn for-she was well insured; even the death of my poor men is but an accident that we sailors are liable to at any moment; but the fate of those two innocent ladies--the mother so good and gentle, the daughter so childlike and beautiful--is one that, if it is to remain a mystery, will cloud my whole life. think of it, sir. the savages must have crept on board in the midst of the thick darkness and the storm, crept on board like wet and slimy snakes, gagged their poor victims, and borne them silently away--to what?' "`it is all very terrible,' i said. "`well, now,' said james, `it strikes me talkin' about it isn't goin' to help us. charles halcott, i served on board a man-o'-war for seven years.' "`yes, james.' "`well, sir, i know what they'd do now in a case like this.' "`yes, james.' "`they'd muster their forces, and prepare for 'ventualities.' "`you see, gentlemen,' he added, `we may have a bit o' good, solid fightin' to do. heaven knows that, if it would do any good, i'd gird up my loins and go all unarmed, save with the word o' god--my mother's bible--among those poor, benighted heathens, and try to bring 'em to their senses. but i fear that would do but little good. when we go among the more humble and simple savages of lonely islands in the sea, or on the mainland of africa itself, our work o' conversion is easy, because the creatures have no form o' religion to place against the gospel. but these head-hunters--and i know them of old--have their own ghastly, blood-stained rites and sacrifices--i cannot call it religion, sir--and these they set up as an awful barrier against the glad tidings we fain would bring to their doors, to their lives. "`no, gentlemen, we may have to crack skulls before we get the word in. but to save those helpless ladies is a duty, a sacred duty we owe to our own white race, as well as to our own consciences, for we'd ne'er be happy if we didn't try.' "`heaven grant,' i said, `they may still be alive!' "`that we must find out,' said james. `now, sir, shall we call all hands, and see to rifles and ammunition?' "james's suggestion was at once acted upon. "the _sea flower_ was a very large barque, and once had been a full-rigged ship. and our hands were more numerous than are generally carried, for many were working their voyage out, and might have been called passengers. "so now forty bold fellows, including two strong and sturdy black men, and the negro boy we called the cook's mate, put in an appearance, and drew shyly aft. there were, in addition to these, captain smithson and his four men. "but these latter we determined the savages must not see, else their suspicions would at once be raised, and, instead of our being able to act peacefully and by strategy, we should have at once to declare red-eyed war. "`will you speak first?' i said to captain smithson. "without a word he strode forward, and, when he held up his hand, the men came crowding round him. "`men of the _sea flower_!' he began, `i am going to tell you a story. it is short and simple, but also a very sad one. maybe you know most of the outs and ins and particulars of it already. my men must have told you all about our voyage and our lady passengers.' "`repeat, repeat!' cried the men; `we would have it all again from your own lips, sir.' "briefly and pathetically smithson did so, relating to them all the particulars we already know. "`men,' he continued, `you are christians, and you are englishmen. it is on this latter fact i rely chiefly, in case we have to fight with the savages of those unfortunate islands. the elder of the two ladies we are going to try to save is english, though she married an american, though her home was on the pacific slope, and her innocent and beautiful daughter was born in san francisco. they are your country-people, then, as much as ours. but, apart from that, when i say they are women in bondage and distress, i have said enough, i know, to appeal to the brave heart of every englishman who now stands before me.' "a wild, heroic shout was the only reply. "`thank you,' said smithson, `for that expression of feeling! and i will only add that these ladies, especially the younger, were, all the way out, the light and life of our poor, lost yacht, and that, by their winning ways, they made themselves beloved both fore and aft.' "`now, lads,' cried james, and as he spoke he seemed a head taller than i had ever seen him, `if we've got to fight, why, then, we'll fight. but against these terrible savages we can't fight with porridge-sticks. luckily, in our cargo we have a hundred good rifles, and that is two for each of us; and we have revolvers, too, and plenty of ammunition. all good, mind you; for i chose the whole cargo myself. so now, bo's'n, pipe up the guns; and this afternoon, men, and every day till we touch at the unfortunate islands, i'll put you through your drill--which, bein' an old navy man, i fancy i'm capable of doing. are you all willing?' "the cheer that shook the ship from stem to stern was a truly british one. it was their only answer, and the only answer needed or required. "so the drilling was commenced, and entered into with great spirit. after all, this drill was merely preparation for `possible 'ventualities,' as honest james called it, for fighting would be our very last resort, and we earnestly prayed that we might not be driven to it. "at last, and early one morning, just as the sun was beginning to pencil the feathery clouds with gold and green and crimson, land was discovered on the lee bow. "i brought the big telescope which james had named mons meg to bear upon it. then i handed meg to smithson. he looked at the land long and earnestly, and glanced up at me with beaming face. "`that's the principal island, captain halcott,' he said; `the king's own. how well we have hit it!' "that same forenoon we cast anchor in treachery bay, close to the spot where the yacht had lain not many weeks before. "our sails were furled in quite a business-like way. we wanted to show the savages that we were not one whit afraid of them, that we had come to stay for a short spell, and hadn't the remotest intention of running away. "that you may better understand the shape or configuration of this strange island, gentlemen, here i show you a rough sketch-map. this will enable you also to follow more easily our subsequent adventures in the fastnesses of these terrible savages. "rude and simple though this plan is, a word or two will suffice to explain it. the island trends west and east, and is not more than sixteen miles long by about ten to twelve in width. it is divided into two almost equal parts by a very rapid and dark-rolling river, which rushes through rocky gorges with inconceivable speed, forming many a thundering cataract as it fights its way to the sea. it is fed from the waters that flow from the mountains, and, probably, by subterranean springs. the whole western portion of the island, with the exception of some green woods around the bay, is pretty low, but covered throughout with the remains of a black and burned forest. this forest is supposed by the natives to be inhabited by fearsome demons and witches, and is never visited, except for the purpose of sorcery by the medicine-men of the tribe, and to bury the dead. in the centre of the eastern portion of the island, which is beautifully clad with woodlands, and rugged and wild in the extreme, is a lake with one small, lonely isle; and around this the mountains tower their highest, but are clad to their very summits with forest trees, many of them bearing the most luscious of fruits, and all draped with wild flowers, and sweetly haunted by bird and bee. "the only things else in the map i wish to draw your attention to, gentlemen, are the parallel lines. these mark the spot where was the only bridge leading into the fastnesses of these savages, and the only mode of communication with the lower land and bay, without walking round by the head of the river, or following its course to the sea and crossing in a boat. "this bridge was primitive in the extreme, consisting merely of three straight tree stems, and a rude life-line composed of the twisted withes of a kind of willow. "i have sad reason to remember that bridge, and shall not forget it while life lasts. "i have said nothing in my story yet about lord augustus fitzmantle. but it is time to do so. lord augustus was our cook's mate. it is well to give a nigger boy a high-sounding name, and, if possible, a title. he always tries to act up to it. lord augustus was very, very black. the other niggers were black enough certainly, but they looked brown beside his merry, laughing little lordship. yes, always laughing, always showing those white teeth of his and rolling his expressive eyes, and good-tempered all day long. even a kick from the cook only made him rub a little and laugh the more. lord augustus wore a string of sky-blue beads about his neck, and on warm days he wore very little else. but if lord augustus was black, he was also bright. the sunshine glittered and glanced on his rounded arms and cheeks, and he had sunshine in his heart as well. it goes without saying he was the pet of the _sea flower_ and everybody's friend, and though all hands teased as well as petted him, he took it all in good part. "so long as lord fitzmantle kept his mouth shut, and didn't show those flashing teeth of his, he was as invisible as jack the giant killer on a dark night. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"seeing our independence, the savages for hours held aloof. at last a white-headed, fearful-looking old man paddled alongside in a dug-out. from the fact that he had a huge snake coiled around his chest and neck, i took him to be the medicine-man, or sorcerer, of the tribe, and i was not mistaken. "he was certainly no beauty as he sat there grinning in his dark dug-out. his face was covered with scars in circles and figures, so, too, was his chest; his eyes were the colour of brass; his teeth crimson, and filed into the form of triangles. but he climbed boldly on board when beckoned to, and we loaded him with gifts of pretty beads, and engirdled his loins with red cloth, then sent him grinning away. "this treatment had the desired effect, and in half an hour's time the bay was alive with the boats and canoes of the head-hunters. each of their tall, gondola-like prows bore a grinning skull, the cheek bones daubed with a kind of crimson clay, and the sockets filled with awful clay eyes--not a pretty sight. "presently the king himself came off, and we received him with great ceremony, and gave him many gifts. to show our strength, james drew up his men in battle array, and to the terror of all in the boats, they fired their guns, taking aim at some brown and ugly kites that flew around. when several of these fell dead, the alarm of the king knew no bounds. but he soon recovered; and when, a little later on, i with a dozen of my best men went on shore, the king placed a poor slave girl on the beach and made signs for us to shoot. i would sooner have shot the king himself. "lord augustus came with us, and we soon found that he understood much that the king said, and could therefore act as our interpreter. "it is needless to say that the men of the lost yacht were kept out of sight. "our walk that day was but a brief one. the king did not seem to want us ever to cross the bridge. on climbing a hill, however, i could see all over the wild and beautiful country. i pointed to the lake and little island, and was given to understand that the medicine-men dwelt there. but from the shiftiness of the savage's eyes, i concluded at once that, if they were alive, that was the prison isle of the unhappy ladies. the king dined with us next day, and we considered it policy to let him have a modicum of fire-water. his heart warmed, and not only did he permit our party to cross the bridge, but to visit his palace. the sights of horror around it i will not dare to depict, but, much to my joy, i noticed from the king's veranda the flutter of white dresses on the little prison isle. "my mind was made up, and that night i dispatched lord augustus on shore with a note. it was a most hazardous expedition, and none save the boy could have undertaken it with any hope of success. in my letter i had told the ladies to be of good cheer; there would be a glimmer of moonlight in a week's time, and that then we should attempt their rescue; anyhow they were to be prepared. "three whole days elapsed, and yet no lord augustus appeared, but on the night of the fourth, when we had given him up for lost, he swam off to the ship. poor boy, he had hardly eaten food, save fruit, since he had left, and his adventure had been a thrilling one. yet he was laughing all over just the same. "yes, he had managed to give the note, and had brought back a message. the ladies had not, strange to say, been subjected to either insult or injury by the king. they were well fed on fruit and milk and cooked fowls, but were guarded day and night by priests. "the most startling portion of the message, however, was this: in a fortnight's time a great feast and sacrifice were to take place, and during that they knew not what might occur. they begged that the boy might be sent again, and with him a sleeping-powder, which they might administer to the priests on the night of the attempted rescue. i confess my heart beat high with anxiety when the boy told us all this, for not one word of his message had he forgotten. "i consulted now with james and smithson. would it not be as well, i advanced, to attempt to rescue the ladies by force? "this was at once vetoed. both james and the captain of the yacht knew more of savage nature than i did, and they most strongly affirmed that any show of force would assuredly result in the putting to death of the two unhappy ladies we had come to rescue. "so it was finally agreed that stratagem, not force, must be resorted to, in the first place, at all events. so a night was chosen, and on the previous evening faithful lord fitzmantle was dispatched once more, taking with him a powder for the medicine-men, or priests. "to our great joy and relief, the messenger returned before daylight with the news that all would be ready, and that they, the ladies, would be found at midnight in a cave by the banks of the lake, if they were successful in escaping in a canoe from the island. "`and you know this cave, fitz?' i asked. "fitz's eyes snapped and twinkled right merrily. "`i done know him, him foh true, sah!' he said, which signified that he had a perfect knowledge of the position of the cave. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"as i speak to you even now, gentlemen, a portion of the anxiety i felt on that terrible night when, with muffled oars, our boat left the ship, comes stealing over my senses. i could not tell then why my feelings should be worked up to so high a pitch, for i'd been in many a danger and difficulty before. but so it was. "the king had dined with us, and we sent home with him a supply of fire-water, which has worked such ruin among many savage races. but surely on this occasion we were partially justified in doing so. we knew, therefore, that the king and some of his principal officers were safe enough for one night. "the largest boat was cautiously lowered about an hour before midnight, when everything was still as the grave on the island; a long and plaintive howl, however, being borne on the gentle breeze towards us every now and then, telling us that sentries were here and there in the woods. "we were fifteen men in all, including james and myself, and excluding our little black guide, lord fitzmantle. during the nights of terror he had spent in hill and forest he had surveyed the country well, and so we could safely trust to him. "we rowed with muffled oars to the beach near the haunted forest, and drew up our boat under some banana-trees; then, silent as the red men of the north american forests, we made our way towards the bridge. "the moon was about five days old, and served to give us all the light we desired. we took advantage of every bush and thicket, and finally, when within seventy yards of the river--the hustling and roaring of which we could distinctly hear--we dispatched little fitz to reconnoitre. "he returned in a few minutes and reported all safe, and no one on watch upon the bridge. "we marched now in indian file, taking care not even to snap a twig, lest we should arouse the slumbering foe. i do not know how long we took to reach the cave. to me, in my terror and anxiety, it seemed a year. they were there, and safe. "we waited not a moment to speak. i lifted the young lady in my arms. how light she was! james escorted the elder, sometimes carrying her, sometimes permitting her to walk. "then the journey back was commenced. "but in the open a glimmer of moonlight fell on the face of the beautiful burden i bore. she had fainted. that i could see at a glance. "but something more i saw, and, seeing, tottered and nearly fell; for hers was the same lovely and childlike face i had seen that evening, which now appeared so long ago, in the liverpool theatre. "i felt now as if walking in the air. but i cannot describe or express my feelings, being only a sailor, and so must not attempt to. "we might have still been a hundred yards from the bridge and river, when suddenly there rang out behind and on each side of us the most awful yells i had ever listened to, while the beating of tom-toms, or war-drums, sounded all over the eastern part of the island. "`on, men, on to the bridge!' shouted brave james. no need for concealment now. "it was a short but fearful race, but now we are on it, on the bridge! "on and over! "all but james! "where is he? the moon escapes from behind a cloud and shines full upon his sturdy form, still on the other side, and at the same time we can hear the sharp ring of his revolver. then, oh! we see him tearing up the planks of the bridge, and dropping them one by one into the gulf beneath. we pour in a volley to keep the savages back. "`fly for your lives!' shouts brave james. `save the ladies; i'll swim.' "next minute he dives into the chasm! for one brief moment we see his face and form in the pale moonlight. then he disappears. he is gone. "`o my friend, my brother!' i cry, stretching out my arms as if i would plunge madly into the pool that lies far beneath yonder, part in shade and part in shine. "but they dragged me away by main force. they led me to the boat. the savages could not follow. but i seemed to see nothing now, to know nothing, to feel nothing, except that i had lost the dearest friend on earth. he had sacrificed himself to save us!" book 2--chapter seven. "i think you're going on a wild-goose chase." halcott paused, and gazed seawards over the great stretch of wet beach. so wet was it that the sun's parting rays lit it up in great stripes of crimson chequered with gold. and yonder are the children coming slowly home across these painted sands. a strange group, most certainly, but united in one bond of union--oh, would that all the world were so!--the bond of love. the brother's arm is placed gently around his sister's waist; the admiral is stepping drolly by ransey's side, with his head and neck thrust through the lad's arm. something seems to tell the bird that fate, which took away his master before, might take him once again. bob brings up the rear. his head is low towards the sands, but he feels very happy and satisfied with his afternoon's outing. halcott once more lit his pipe. the two others were silent, and mr tandy nodded when halcott smiled and looked towards him. "yes," he said, "there is a little more of my story yet untold; there is a portion of it still in the future, i trust. with this, however, destiny alone has to do. suffice it to say, that as far as doris and myself--my simple sailor-self--are concerned, we shall be married when i return from my next cruise, if all goes well, and, like two vessels leaving the harbour on just such a beautiful night as this, sail away to begin our voyage of life on just such a beautiful sea. "you must both know doris before i start. but where, think you, do i mean to sail to next? no, do not answer till i tell you one thing. neither doris nor her mother received, while in that little lake island, the slightest injury or insult." "then there is some good in the breast of even the wildest savage," put in weathereye. "i always thought so; bother me if i didn't. ahem!" "ah, wait, captain weathereye, wait! i fear my experience is different from yours. those fiendish savages on that isle of misfortune were reserving my dear doris and her mother for a fate far more terrible than anything ever described in books of imagination. "we rescued them, by god's mercy, just in time. they were then under the protection of the awful priests, or medicine-men, and were being fed on fruits and on the petals of rare and beautiful flowers. their hut itself was composed of flowers and foliage. "the king, no, not even he, could come near them, until the medicine-men had propitiated the demons that live, according to their belief, in every wood and in every ravine and gully in the island. "then, at the full of the moon, on that tiny islet i have marked on the map, the king and his warriors would assemble at midnight, and the awful orgies would commence. "i shudder even now when i think of it. i happily cannot describe to you the tortures these poor ladies would have been put to before the final, fearful act. but the king would drink `white blood.' he would then be invulnerable. no foe could any more prevail against him. "while the blood was still flowing, the stake-fires would-be lit, and-"but i'll say no more; a cannibal feast would have concluded the ceremonies." "you mean to say," cried weathereye, bringing his fist, and a good-sized one it was, down with a bang on the sill of the open window by which he sat--"do you mean to tell me that these devils incarnate would have burned the poor dear ladies alive, then? oh, horrible!" "i said that they meant to; but look at this!" he handed weathereye a small yellow dagger. "what a strange little knife! but why, i say, halcott, tandy, this knife is made of gold--solid, hammered gold!" "yes," said halcott; "and it is this dagger of hammered gold that would have saved my poor doris and her mother from the torture and the stake. "but," he added, "not this dagger only, but every implement in the cave of those fearsome priests was fashioned from the purest gold." "this is indeed a strange story," said tandy. "and now, gentlemen," added halcott, "can you guess to what seas my barque shall sail next?" -----------------------------------------------------------------------tandy rose from his seat and took two or three turns up and down the floor. he was a man who made up his mind quickly enough, and it is such men as these, and only such, who get well on in the world. weathereye and halcott both kept silence. they were watching tandy. "halcott," said the latter, approaching the captain of the _sea flower_--"halcott, have you kept your secret?" "secret?" "yes. i mean, do many save yourself know of the existence of gold on that island of blood?" "none save me. no one has even seen the knife but myself and you." "good. you love the _sea flower_?" "i love the _sea flower_ as every sailor loves, or ought to love, his ship. i wish i could afford to buy her out and out." "the other shares are in the market then?" tandy was seated now cross-legged on a chair, and leaning over the back of it, bending towards halcott with an earnest light, in his eyes, such as few had ever seen therein. "the other shares _are_ for sale," said halcott. it was just at this moment that ransey tansey and little nelda came, or rather burst into the room. both were breathless, both were rosy; and bob, who came in behind them, was panting, with half a yard of tongue-well, perhaps, not _quite_ so much--hanging red over his alabaster teeth. "o daddy," cried babs, as father still called her, "we've had such fun! and the 'ral," (a pet name that the crane had somehow obtained possession of) "dug up plenty of pretty things for us, and he wanted bob to eat a big white worm, only bob wouldn't." one of his children stood on each side of him, and he had placed one arm round each. thus tandy faced halcott once more, smiling, perhaps, a little sadly now. "_i_ can buy those shares, halcott. do not think me ambitious. a money-grabber i never was. but, you see these little tots. ransey here can make his way in the world.--can't you, ransey?" "rather, father," said ransey. "but, halcott, though i am not in the flower of my youth, i'm in the prime of my manhood, and i'd do everything i know to build up a shelter for my little babs against the cold winds of adversity before i--but i must not speak of anything sad before the child." "you have a long life before you, i trust," said weathereye. tandy seemed to hear him not. "i'd go as your mate." the two sailors shook hands. "you'll go as my friend, and keep watch if you choose." "agreed!" "bravo!" cried weathereye. "shiver my jib, as sailors say in books, if i wouldn't like to go along with both of you!" "why not, captain weathereye?" the staff-commander laughed. "not this cruise, lads, though i'm not afraid for my life, or the little that may be left of it, and you must take care of yours. i think myself you are going on a kind of wild-goose chase, and that the goose--that is, the gold--will have the best of it, by keeping out of your way. well, anyhow, i'll come and see you both over the bar. where do you sail from?" "southampton." "good! and the last person you'll see as you drop out to sea will be old weathereye in a boat waving his red bandana to wish you luck. good-night! "good-night, little babs! how provokingly pretty she is, tandy! better leave her at scragley hall, and the crane too. she'll be well looked after, you may figure upon that. come and give the old man a kiss, dear." but nelda hung her head. "not if you say that, captain weathereye. wherever _ever_ daddy goes, i go with him. i'm _not_ going to let my brother run away to sea and leave me again." "and you won't give me bob?" said weathereye. "oh, _no_!" "nor the admiral?" nelda looked up in the old captain's face now. "i'm just real sorry for you," she said; "but the hal's going and all--_you_ may figure on that." weathereye laughed heartily. then he drew the child gently towards him and kissed her little sun-browned hand. "may god be with you, darling, where'er on earth you roam! and with you all. good-night again." and away went honest captain weathereye. book 2--chapter eight. at sea--mermaids and mermen. so long as the wind blew free, even though it did not always blow fair, there was joy, and jollity, too, in every heart that beat on board the saucy _sea flower_, fore as well as aft. she looked a bonnie barque now, in every sense of the word. tandy and halcott had spared neither expense nor pains in rigging her well out. had not her timbers been stanch and sound they certainly would not have done so. she had new sails, a new jibboom, and several new spars; and before she got clear and away out of the english channel the crew of many a homeward-bound ship manned their riggings and gave her a hearty cheer. halcott had left the whole rig-out of the _sea flower_ to mr tandy, and had not come near her for six long weeks. he was better employed, perhaps, and more happy on shore. but pleased enough he was on his return. "why, tandy, my dear fellow, this isn't a ship any more; it's a yacht?" "a pot of paint and a bucket of tar go a long way," tandy replied smiling. "ah! there's a good deal more than tar here; but how you've managed to get her decks and spars so white and beautiful, bother me if i can tell. and her ebony is ebony no longer, it is polished jet, while her brass work is gold." down below the two had now gone together. tandy could not have made the cabin a bit bigger if he had tried, but he had removed every morsel of her lumbering old lockers and tables, and refurnished it with all he could think of that was graceful and beautiful. mirrors, too, were everywhere along the bulk-heads, and these made the saloon look larger. the only wonder is that, in a lit of absent-mindedness, some one did not walk right through a mirror. hanging tables, beautiful crystal, brackets, and artificial flowers gave a look that was both lightsome and gay. on the port side, when you touched a knob, a mirrored door opened into the captain's cabin--small but pretty, and lighted by an airy port that could be carried open in good weather, and all along in the trades. the other state-room was larger. this halcott had insisted upon tandy taking; and it contained not only his own bunk, but a lower one for nelda, and was better decorated and furnished than even the captain's. "oh, gaily goes the ship when the wind blows free." and right gaily she had gone too, as yet. halcott was a splendid sailor and navigator. it might have been thought, however, that tandy, from his long residence on shore, had turned a little rusty in his seamanship. if he had, the rust had not taken long to rub off; and as he trod the ivory-white quarterdeck in his duck trousers, neat cap, and jacket of navy blue, he really looked ten years younger than in the days when he sailed the _merry maiden_ up and down the canal. the crew were well-dressed, and looked happy and jolly enough for anything. i need hardly say that nelda was the pet of the _sea flower_, fore and aft. there was no keeping the child to any one part of the ship. in fine weather--and, with the exception of a "howther" in the bay, it had up till now been mostly fine--she was here, there, and everywhere: in the men's quarters; down below in the forecastle; at the forecastle-head itself, when the men leaned over the bows there, smoking, yarning, and laughing; and in the cook's galley, helping to make the soup. but she ventured even further than this, and more than once her father started to find her in the foretop, and standing beside her that tall, imperturbable admiral. the bird was pet number two; but bob made an equal second. at first the 'ral was inclined to mope. perhaps he was sea-sick. it is a well-known fact that if a cape pigeon, as a certain gull is called, is taken on board, it can fly no more, but walks slowly and stupidly round the deck. sea-sickness had not troubled bob in the slightest. when he saw the 'ral standing in the lee-scuppers, with his neck hitched right round till the head lay right on the top of his tail, bob looked at him comically with _his_ head cocked funnily to one side. then he seemed to laugh right away down both sides, so to speak. bob was a droll dog. "my eyes, admiral," he said, "what a ridiculous figure you do cut, to be sure! why, at first i couldn't tell which was the one end of you and which was the other." "i don't care what becomes of me," the admiral replied, talking over his tail. "it is a very ordinary world. i'll never dance again." but, nevertheless, in three days' time the hal did dance, and so droll and comical were his capers on the heaving deck that the crew lay aft in a body and laughed till they nearly burst their belts. the admiral took kindly to his meal-worms after that, and didn't despise potted salmon and morsels of mutton. -----------------------------------------------------------------------now it must not be supposed that the _sea flower_ was going out in ballast, on the mere chance of filling up with gold. they might never see the isle of misfortune, and all their dreams of gold might yet turn out as dreams so often do. halcott and tandy were good sailors, and but little likely to trust overmuch to blind chance. they took out with them, therefore, a good-paying cargo of knick-knacks and notions to barter with the natives along the coast of africa. having made a good voyage--and they knew they should--and having filled up with copal, nutmegs, arrowroot, spices, ivory, and perhaps even gold-dust and ostrich feathers from the far interior, they would stretch away out and over the broad atlantic, and rounding the horn, make search for the isle of misfortune, which they hoped to find an island of gold. if unsuccessful, they should then bear up for the northern pacific islands, taking their chance of doing something with pearls or mother-of-pearl, and so on and away to san francisco, where they were sure of a market, even if they wished to sell the _sea flower_ herself. but the best of sailors get disheartened far sooner in calms than even in tempests. in the latter, one has all the excitement of a battle with the elements; in the former, one can but wait and think and long for the winds to blow. "the fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, the furrow followed free." yes; but although in the region of calms some ships seem to have luck, the _sea flower_ had none. "down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'twas sad as sad could be; and they did speak only to break the silence of the sea." a week, a fortnight, nearly three weary weeks went past like this. there was no singing now forward among the men. even little fitz the nigger, who generally _was_ trolling a song, at times high over the roar of the wind, was silent now. so, too, was ransey tansey. he and nelda had been before the life of the good ship. it seemed as if they should never be so again. bob took to lying beside the man at the wheel. as far as the latter was concerned, there might just as well have been no man there at all. the sea all round was a sea of heaving oil. the waves were houses high--not long rollers, but a series of hills and valleys, in which the _sea flower_ wallowed and tumbled; while the fierce heat of the sun caused the pitch to melt and bubble where the decks were not protected by an awning. the motion of the good ship was far indeed from agreeable. any seaman can walk easily even when half a gale of wind is roaring through the rigging. there is a method in the motion of a ship in such a sea-way. there is no method in the motion of a vessel in the doldrums; and when one puts one's foot down on the quarterdeck, or, rather, where it seemed to be a second before, it finds but empty space. the body lurches forward, and the deck swings up to receive it. a grasp at a stay or sheet alone can avert a fall. in such a sea-way there is no longer any leeward or windward. the sails go flapping to and fro, however: they are making wind for themselves as the vessel rolls and tumbles; and if this wind carries her forward a few yards one minute, it hurls her back again the next. no wonder nelda often asked her father if the wind would never, never blow again, or whether it would be always, always like this. no birds either, save now and then a migrant gull that floated lazily on a wave to rest, or perched on the fin of a basking shark. so day after day passed wearily on, and you could not have told one day from the other. but when, at six o'clock, the sun hurriedly capped the great heaving waves with crimson, leaving the hollows in deepest purple shade, and soon after sank, then, in the gloaming that for a brief spell hung over the ocean, the stars came out; and very brightly did they shine, so that night was even more pleasant than day. banks of clouds sometimes lay along the horizon. by day they appeared like far-off, snow-capped, serrated mountains; at night they were dark, but lit up every few moments by flashes of lightning, which spread out behind them and revealed their form and shape. no thunder ever followed this lightning; it brought no wind; nor did the clouds ever rise or bring a drop of rain. phantom lightning; phantom clouds! there were times on nights like these when ransey took his sister on deck to look at the sky, and wonder at the lightning and that strange mountain-range of clouds. she was not afraid when ransey was with her. but she would not have gone "upstairs," as she called it, with even the stewardess herself. ransey, i may mention, lived in the saloon with his father and the captain, the second and third mates having comfortable quarters in the midship decks. a stewardess only was carried on the _sea flower_, and she acted in another capacity--that of maid to nelda. a black girl she was, but clean, smart, and tidy and trim, full of merriment and good-nature. her assistant was fitz, and with him alone she deemed it her duty to be a little harsh now and then. because fitz wouldn't keep his place, so she said. poor janeira, she always forgot she was a nigger herself, seeing so many white faces all around her. but when she looked into the little mirror that hung in her pantry, she used to go into fits of laughter at her face therein displayed. she was a funny girl. ransey used to take nelda up on these nights, and hoist her on to the grating abaft the quarterdeck, and she would cling to his arm, while he held on to the bulwark. thus they would stand, silent and awed, for long minutes at a time. was there nothing to break the dread stillness? there was occasionally the flap of a sail, or a footstep forward; but no song from the men, no loud talking--they hardly cared to speak above a whisper. but more than once a plash was heard, and a great dark head would appear from the side of a billow, seen distinctly enough in the gleam of the starlight, then sink and disappear. "oh, the awful beast, 'ansey! can it climb up and swallow us?" "no, dear silly, no." but older people than nelda have been frightened by such dread spectres appearing close to a ship at night while in the doldrums, and wiser heads than hers have been puzzled to account for them. are they sharks? no, no. five times as large are they as any shark ever seen. whales? no, again. a whale lives not under the water but on it. in the ocean wild and wide, reader, we sailors find many a strange mystery, see many a fearsome sight at night we can neither describe nor explain. and if we talk of these when we come on shore, you landsmen look incredulous. but after a time the child became accustomed to scenes like these. indeed the sea by night appeared to have a kind of fascination for her. in beholding it, she appeared to be looking through it into some strange land, the abode of the fairies and elves and mermaids with which her imagination had peopled it. "deep, deep down among the rocks," she would say to ransey, "who lives there? tell us, tell us." ransey had therefore to become the story-teller whether he would or not. he spoke to her then of mermaid-land deep down below the dark, heaving ocean. "deep, deep, _deep_ down, 'ansey?" "very, very deep. you see only a glimmer of light below you as you sink and sink; and this light is greenish and clear, and the farther down you get the brighter and more beautiful does it become." "and you're not drowned?" "no! oh, no! not if you're good. well, then you come to--oh, ever so beautiful a country! the trees are all of sea-weed, and underneath them is the yellow, yellow sand; but here and there are beautiful rockeries, and beds of such bright and lovely flowers that they would dazzle your eyes to look upon. and the strange thing about these flowers is this, babs, they are all alive." "all alive? my! and can they talk to you?" "yes, and sing too. a sailor man who had been there told me. and he said their voices were so low and sweet that you had to put your ear quite close down before you could hear and understand; for at a little distance, he said, it was just like the tinkling of tiny silver bells. the danger is in stopping too long, and being enchanted or slain." "enchanted? whatever is that, 'ansey?" "oh, you stay so long listening that you feel like in a dream, and before you know what has happened you are a flower yourself; and then, though you can see and hear everything that goes on around you, you cannot move away from the rock you are growing on, and you never get back again out of the water." "never, never, 'ansey?" "never, never, babs." "but in the deep, dark, beautiful woods that you come to and enter there is many a terrible monster living--horned, shelly, warty monsters. and they are all waiting to catch you." "terrible, 'ansey!" "are you afraid, dear?" "oh, no, 'ansey! be terrible some more." "well, there is danger all around you now, for some of these monsters are quite hidden among the sand, with only one eye protruding, and this looks like a flower because it grows on a stalk. but when you go to look at it, suddenly the sandy ground gives way under you. you are caught and killed, and know no more. "some of these monsters, nelda, live in caves, and if you go too near the entrance a great, long, skinny arm is thrust out, and you are dragged into the dark and devoured." "but i would turn quickly away out of that terrible wood, 'ansey," said nelda. "yes, that is just what the sailor did." "and then he was saved?" "not yet. he came to a lovely wide patch of clear, hard sand, and he was looking down to admire it. he had taken up some to examine, and was pouring it from one hand into the other--for the sand was pure gold mixed with pearls and rubies--when all at once it began to get dark, and looking up he saw a creature that was nearly all one horrible, cruel, grinning head, with eight long arms round it. it stopped high up, just hovering, nelda, like a hawk over a field. the sailor man was spell-bound. he could only stare up at it with starting eyes and utter a long, low, frightened moan. but from the creature above a tent was lowered, just like a huge bell, and he knew it would soon fall over him and he would be sucked up to the sea-demon's body and slowly eaten alive. "but at that very moment, sissie, the creature uttered a terribly wild and mournful cry, and darted off through the water, which was all just like ink now." "and the sailor was dead?" "no; a voice that sounded like the sweetest music ever he had heard in his life was heard, and a hand grasped his. "`quick, quick,' she cried, for it was a mermaid, `i will lead you into safety. stay but another moment here and you are doomed.' "`i'll follow you to the end of the world, miss,' said the gallant sailor. "it did seem queer to call a mermaid miss, but jack reid couldn't help it. "`you won't have to follow so far,' she said, with a sweet smile that put jack's heart all in a flutter. "and in five minutes' time they were out of danger, and there was jack with his hat in his hand, which he had taken off for politeness' sake, being led along by the most charming young lady he had ever clapped eyes on. "`her beauty,' he said to me, `was radiant, and her long yellow hair floated behind her in the water till i was ravished; on'y the wust of it was, that all below the waist wasn't lady at all, but ling or some other kind of fish.' "but jack wouldn't look at the ling part at all, only just at the mermaid's face and hair and hands. "however dark it might have been, you could have seen to read by the light of the diamonds around her brow and neck. "they soon came to a rock of quartz and porphyry, and next minute jack found himself in a hall of such dazzling delight that he had to rub his eyes and pinch himself hard to make sure he was not in a dream. this was the mermaids' and sea-fairies' great ballroom. "tier upon tier of galleries rose up towards the beautiful, star-studded ceiling, and every gallery was filled with beautiful ladies. jack knew that they all ended in ling, but the tails could not be seen. "there was light and loveliness everywhere, and flowers everywhere--" "go on, 'ansey. your story is better than the revelations, better even than `jack the giant killer.'" "i must stop, siss, because even _i_ don't know much more, only that the music was so ravishing that jack himself danced till he couldn't dance a bit more." "and did he sit down?" "no; he thought he would like a smoke, so he floated away down to the entrance to a cave at the far, far end. "`that must be the smoking-room,' he thought to himself, so he pushed aside the curtain and floated boldly in. "but lo and behold, this inner cave was filled with little shrivelled-up old men, uglier far in the face than toads. "these, sissie, were the mermen, and they were all sitting on rough blocks of coral, which must have hurt them dreadful, nursing their tails. these mermen sat there swaying their yellow, wrinkled bodies back and fore, to and fro, but taking not the slightest notice of jack. the sailor stood staring at them; and well he might, for whatever motion one made the others all made the same. if one lifted a skeleton hand to rub its bald head, every hand was raised, every bald head was rubbed; whichever way one swayed all the rest swayed; sometimes every blear eye was directed to the ceiling, or lowered towards their tails, as the case might be; and when one gaped and yawned they all gaped and yawned, and jack told me that he had never seen such a set of ugly, toothless mouths in his life before. "but as _they_ wouldn't speak, jack reid himself--and he was a very brave sailor, sissie--did speak. "`ahoy, maties!' he cried, `ye don't seem an over-lively lot here, i must say, but has e'er a one o' ye got sich a thing as a bit o' baccy?' "jack told me, babs, that when he made this speech he got a fearful fright. every merman stood up straight on its stool, its skinny arms and claw-like hands held straight above its head, and a yell rang through the hall that jack says is ringing in his ears till this day. "`oh!' he cried, `if that's your little game, here's for off.' "jack must have been glad enough to get back to the ballroom, but this was now deserted. no one was there at all except the lovely mermaid who had saved him from being devoured by the terrible devil-fish. "she smiled upon him as sweetly as ever. "`i'm going to guide you,' she said, `to the nursery grotto; it is time that all sailor boys went to by-by.' "`go on, missie,' jack said, `go on, yer woice is sweeter far than the song of--of a mother carey's chicken. wot a lovely lady ye'd be, miss, if ye didn't end in ling!' "she smiled, and combed her hair with her long white fairy fingers as she glided on. "`going to by-by am i? well, the mum did used to call it that like, miss, but we grown-up sailor lads calls it a bunk or an 'ammock. ain't got ne'er a bit o' baccy about ye, has ye, miss?' "but the fairy mermaid only smiled. "so soft and downy was the bed that jack fell asleep singing low to himself- "`all in the downs the fleet was moored.' "and that is the end of the story, siss." "oh, no! what did he see when he woke up again?" "well, when he awoke in the morning, much to his amazement, he found himself in his own bed in his mother's little cottage at home. "he rubbed his eyes twice before he spoke. "`what! mother?' he cried. "`yes, it is your own old mother, dearie, and i've been sittin' up with you, and sich nonsense you has been a-talkin', surely.' "`i'm not a merman, or anything, am i, mother? i don't end in ling, do i, mother?' "`no, jack reid, you end in two good strong legs; but strong as they are, my boy, they weren't strong enough to keep you from tumbling down last night. o jack, jack!'" book 2--chapter nine. wonderful adventures of the dancing crane. hardly had ransey finished his story ere a bright flash of lightning lit up the ship from stem to stern--a flash that seemed to strike the top of every rolling wave and hiss in the hollows between; a flash that left the barque in cimmerian though only momentary darkness, for hardly had the thunder that followed--deep, loud, and awful--commenced, ere flash succeeded flash, and the sea all around seemed an ocean of fire. for a time little nelda could not be prevailed upon to go below. she was indeed a child of the wilds, and a thunderstorm was one of her chief delights. ah! but this was going to be somewhat more than a thunderstorm. "hands, shorten sail! all hands on deck!" it was tandy's voice sounding through the speaking trumpet--ringing through it, i might say, and yet it scarce could be heard above the incessant crashing of the thunder. the men came tumbling up, looking scared and frightened in the blue glare of the lightning. "away aloft! bear a hand, my hearties! get her snug, and we'll splice the main-brace. hurrah, lads! nimbly does it!" swaying high up on the top-gallant yards they looked no bigger than rooks, and with every uncertain lurch and roll the yard-ends seemed almost to touch the water. it was at this moment that the stewardess came staggering aft. "don't go, 'ansey--don't go," cried nelda. "duty's duty, dear, and it's `all hands' now." he saw her safely down the companion-way, and next minute he was swarming up the ratlines to his station. but he had to pause every few seconds and hang on to the rigging, with his back right over the water-hang on for dear life. the sails were reefed, and some were got in, and not till the men had got down from aloft did the rain come on. for higher and higher had the clouds on the northern horizon banked up, till they covered all the sky. so awful was the rain, and so blinding, that it was impossible to see ten yards ahead, or even to guess from which direction the storm would actually come. the wind was already whirling in little eddies from end to end of the deck, but hardly yet did it affect the motion of the ship, or give her way in any one direction. the men were ordered below in batches, to get into their oilskins, for right well tandy knew that a fearful night had to be faced. the men received their grog now, and well did they deserve it. another hand was put to the wheel (two men in all), and near them stood the bold mate tandy, ready to give orders by signal or even by touch, should they fail to hear his voice. all around the deck the men were clinging to bulwark or stay. waiting for the inevitable! ah! now it came. the rain had ceased for a time. so heavy had it been that the waves themselves were levelled, and tandy could now see a long line of white coming steadily up astern. he thanked the god who rules on sea as well as on dry land that the squall was coming from that direction. had it taken the good ship suddenly aback she might have gone down stern-foremost, even with the now limited spread of canvas that was on her. as it was, the first mountain wave that hit the good barque sent her flying through the sea as if she had been but an empty match-box. that wave burst on board, however--pooped her, in fact--and went roaring forward, a sea of solid foaming water. the good vessel shivered from stem to stern like a creature in the throes of death. for a few minutes only. next minute she had shaken herself free, and was dashing through the water at a pace that only a yacht could have beaten. the thunder now went rolling down to leeward, and the rain ceased, but the gale increased in force, and in a short time she had to be eased again, and now she was scudding along almost under bare poles. it would be hours before mate tandy could get below; but ransey's watch was now off deck, so he went down to ask janeira, the stewardess, if nelda was in bed. she was in bed most certainly, but through the half-open doorway she could hear ransey's voice, and shouted to him. "i fink, sah," janeira said, "she am just one leetle bit afraid." there was no doubt about that, and the questions with which she plied her brother, when he took a seat by her bunk to comfort her, were peculiar, to say the least. "daddy won't be down for a long, long time?"--that was one. "the poor men, though, how many is drownded?"--another. "the ship did go to the bottom though, didn't it, 'cause i heard the water all rush down?"--a third. "you are quite, quite sure father isn't drownded? and you are sure no awful beasts have come up with long arms? well, tell us some stories." _nolens volens_, ransey had to. but babs got drowsy at last, the white eyelids drooped and drooped till they finally closed; then ransey went quietly away and turned into his hammock. young though he was, the heaviest sea-way could not frighten him, nor the stormiest wind that could blow. the sound of the wind as it went roaring through the rigging could only make him drowsy, and the ship herself would rock him to sleep. the barque was snug, too, and it was happiness itself to hear his father's footsteps, as he walked the quarterdeck, pausing now and then to give an order to the men at the wheel. -----------------------------------------------------------------------"behaved like an angel all through, halcott!" that was what tandy told the skipper next morning at breakfast. "i knew she would, tandy. i'm proud of our _sea flower_, and, my friend, i'm just as proud of you. i'd have stopped on deck to lend a hand, but that wouldn't have done any good. "jane," he cried. jane was the contraction for "janeira." "iss, sah; i'se not fah off." "is there no toast this morning?" "no, sah; lord fitzmantle he done go hab one incident dis mawnin'. he blingin' de toast along, w'en all same one big wave struckee he and down he tumble, smash de plate, and lose all de toast foh true." "oh, the naughty boy!" said nelda, who was hurrying through her breakfast to go on deck to "see the sea," as she expressed it. "no, leetle meess tandy, lord fitzmantle he good boy neahly all de time. it was poorly an incident, meesie, for de big sea cut his legs clean off, and down he come." "well, i'm sorry for fitz," said nelda with a sigh; "i suppose it was only his sea-legs though. and i'm going to have mine to-day. i asked the carpenter, and he said he would make me some soon, and it wouldn't be a bit sore putting them on." -----------------------------------------------------------------------with varying fortunes the good ship _sea flower_ sailed south and away, till at last the cape of good hope was reached and rounded. here they experienced very heavy weather indeed, with terrible storms of thunder and lightning, and bigger seas than tandy himself had ever seen before. but by this time little nelda was quite a sailor, and a greater favourite fore and aft than ever. sea-legs had, figuratively speaking, been served out to all the green hands. nelda had a capital pair, and could use them well. fitz had to make his old ones do another time; but bob had received two pairs from neptune, when he came aboard that starry still night when crossing the line. as for the hal, it must be confessed that there wasn't a pair in neptune's boat long enough to fit him. however, in ordinary weather he managed to run along the deck pretty easily, his jibboom, as the sailors called his neck, held straight out in front of him, and helping himself along with his wings. sometimes on the quarterdeck it would suddenly occur to the 'ral that a step or two of a highland schottische would help to make time pass more quickly and pleasantly. the 'ral wasn't a bird to spoil a good intention, so, with just one or two preliminary "scray--scrays" he would start. bother the deck though, and bother the heaving sea, for do what he would the bird could no longer dance with ease and grace; so he would soon give it up, and go and lean his chin wearily over the lee bulwark, and thus, with his drooping wings, he did cut rather a ridiculous figure as seen from behind. he looked for all the world like some scraggy-legged little old man, who had got up in the morning and put nothing on except a ragged swallow-tailed coat. the men liked the 'ral though. he made them laugh, and was better than an extra glass of rum to them. so, as the bird seemed always rather wretched in dirty weather, the carpenter was solicited to make him some sort of shelter. the carpenter consulted the sailmaker. the carpenter and sailmaker put their heads together. something was sure to come of that. "he's sich an awkward shape, ye see," said old canvas. "that's true," said chips; "and he won't truss hisself, as ye might call it." "no; if he'd on'y jest double up his legs, chips, and close reef that jibboom o' his, we might manage some'ow." "a kind o' sentry-box would just be _the_ thing, old can." "humph! yes. i wonder why the skipper didn't bring a grandfather's clock with 'im; that would suit the 'ral all to pieces." but a sort of sentry-box, with a tarpaulin in front of it, was finally rigged up for the 'ral, and placed just abaft the main-mast, to which it was lashed. the 'ral didn't take to it quite kindly at first, but after studying it fore and aft he finally thought it would fit him nicely. it would be protection from the sun on hot days, and when it blew a bit the men would draw down the tarpaulin, and he would be snug enough. but in sunny weather it must be confessed that, solemnly standing there in his sentry-box, the admiral did look a droll sight. the 'ral was a very early riser. he always turned out in time to go splashing about while the hands were washing decks, and although they often turned the hose on him he didn't mind it a bit. one very hot day, the poor 'ral was observed standing pensively up against the capstan. his head was out of sight, thrust into one of the holes. this was unusual, but the bird did so many droll things that, for an hour or more, nobody took much notice; but ransey came round at last, carrying babs, who was riding on his shoulders. "hillo!" cried babs, "here's the 'ral with his head buried in a hole." "which he stowed hisself away there, missie, more'n an hour ago," said a seaman. "afraid o' gettin' sunstroke, that's my opinion." "poor hallie," cried babs, sympathisingly, "does your headie ache?" the admiral drew out his head, and looked at the child very mournfully indeed. "he's got some silent sorrow hevidently, i should say," remarked another of the crew. there was quite a little circle now around the capstan. "cheer up," cried ransey tansey. "come along and have a dance, 'rallie." "i don't feel like dancing to-day," the crane replied, or appeared to reply. "fact is, i don't feel like moving at all." no wonder, poor bird; the truth is, he was glued to the deck with melted pitch. what a job it was getting him clear too--or "easing him off," as chips called it. but with the help of putty knives the 'ral got free at last, though it took a deal of orange-peel to clean his poor feet. then they were found to be so red and swollen that a hammock was slung for him forthwith atween decks, and the admiral was laid at full length in it--his head on a pillow at one end, his feet away down at the other, his body covered with the carpenter's lightest jacket. very funny he did appear stretched like that, but he himself appreciated, not the joke, but the comfort. he lay there for days, only getting up a little in the cool of the evening, if there was any cool in it. ransey fed him, and attended to his feet twice a day, so he was soon on deck again, as right as a trivet. but the admiral had learned a lesson, and ever after this, on hot days, to have seen the bird coming along the deck, you would have sworn he was playing at hop-scotch, so careful was he to hop over the seams where the pitch was soft, his long neck bent down, and one eye curiously examining the planks. yes, the 'ral was a caution, as old canvas said. but one of the bird's drollest adventures occurred one day when the ship was lying becalmed in the indian ocean, or rather in the mozambique channel. the _sea flower_ was within a measurable distance of land; for though none was in sight, birds of the gull species flew around the ship, tack and half-tack, or floated lazily on the smooth surface of the sea. the 'ral slowly left his sentry-box, stretched his wings a bit, uttered a mild scray--scray--ay or two, then did a hop-scotch till he got abreast of the man at the wheel. this particular sailor was somewhat of a dandy, and had a morsel of red silk handkerchief peeping prettily out from his jacket pocket. the 'ral eyed it curiously for a moment, then cleverly plucked it out and jumped away with it. he dropped it on a portion of the quarterdeck where the pitch was oozing, kicked it about with his feet to spread it out, as a man does with a handful of straw, and stood upon it. "well, i do call that cheek! my best silk handkerchief, too," cried the man at the wheel. the crane only looked at him wonderingly with one eye. "you've no idea," he told this man, "how soft and nice it feels. i--i-yes, i verily believe i shall dance. craik--craik--cray--ay--y!" and dance he did, nelda and half the crew at least clapping their hands and cheering with delight. the 'ral was just in the very midst of his merriment, when the man, after giving the wheel an angry turn or two to port, made a dart to recover his favourite bandana. with such a rush did he come that the 'ral took fright, and flew to the top of the bulwark. there was some oiled canvas here, and this was so hot that the bird had to keep lifting one foot and putting down the other all the time, just like a hen on a hot griddle. "how delightfully sweet it must be up there," he said to himself, gazing at the gulls that were screaming with joy as they swept round and round in the blue sky. "i think i'll have a fly myself. scray--ay!" and greatly to every one's astonishment away he flew high into the air. alarmed at first, the gulls soon regained courage, and made a daring attack on the 'ral. but he speedily vanquished the foe, and one or two fell bleeding into the water. a gull was perched on the back fin of a shark. the 'ral flew down. "it's nice and snug _you_ look," said the 'ral. "get off at once, the king's come. get off, i say, or i'll dig both your impudent eyes out." and next moment the admiral was perched there, as coolly as if he had been used to riding on sharks ever since his babyhood. but nelda was in tears. she would never see the 'ral again, and the awful beast would eat him, sea-legs and all. so a boat was called away to save him. none too soon either. for the 'ral had commenced to investigate that fin with his long beak. no respectable basking shark could be expected to stand that, so down he dived, leaving the bird screaming and swaying and scrambling on the top of the water. "scray--scray--craik--craik-cray!" but for the timely aid of the boat, the admiral would have met with a terrible fate, for his screaming and struggling brought around him three sharks at least, all eager to find out what a long-legged bird like this tasted like. every fine day the crane now indulged himself in the pleasure of flight, but he never evinced the slightest inclination to perch again on the back of a basking shark. it wasn't good enough, he would have told you, had you asked him. "as regards the backs of basking sharks," he might have said, "i'm going to be a total abstainer." up the east coast of africa went the bonnie barque _sea flower_. tandy knew almost every yard of the ground he was now covering, and could pilot the vessel into creeks and over sand-banks or bars with very little danger indeed. but still the coast here is so treacherous, and the sands and bottom change so frequently, that, night and day, men had to be in the chains heaving the lead. the natives, also, across the line in somaliland, are as treacherous as the coral rocks that guard their clay-built towns, and more treacherous than either are the semi-white, slave-dealing arabs. book 2--chapter ten. a brush with the somalis--the derelict. all along the somali coast was tandy's "chief market ground," as he called it. here he knew he could drive precisely the kind of bargains he wished to make; and as for the somalis, with their shields, spears, ugly broad knives, and grinning sinister faces, this bold seaman did not care anything. nor for the arabs either. he soon gave both to understand that he was a man of the wide, wide world, and was not afraid of any one. he had come to trade and barter, he told the arabs, and not to study their slave-hunting habits; so if they would deal, they had only to trot out their wares--_he_ was ready. and if they didn't want to deal, there was no harm done. he even took ransey with him sometimes, and once he took nelda as well. the savages just here were a bad, bloodthirsty lot, and he knew it, but he had with him five trusty men. not armed--that is, not visibly so. but on this particular day there was blood in those natives' eyes. tall, lithe, and black-brown were they, their skins oiled and shining in the sun. but smiling. oh, yes, these fiends will smile while they cut a white man's throat. every eye was fixed hungrily on the beautiful child. what a present she would be for a great chief who dwelt far away in the interior and high among the mountains! the bartering went on as usual, but tandy kept his weather eye lifting. leopards' skins, lions' skins and heads, ostrich feathers, gum-copal, ivory tusks, and gold-dust. the boat was already well filled, nelda was on board, so was tandy himself, and his crew, all save one man, who was just shoving her off when the rush was made. the prow of the boat was instantly seized, and the man thrown down. pop--pop--pop--pop--rang tandy's revolver, and the yelling crowd grew thinner, and finally fled. a spear or two was thrown, but these went wide of the mark. human blood looks ghastly on white coral sands, but was tandy to blame? nelda was safe, and in his arms. "o daddy," she cried, kissing his weather-beaten face, "are we safe?" "yes, darling; but i mustn't land here again." salook was the village king here, a big, burly brute of an arab, with a white, gilded turban and a yellow, greasy face beneath it. tandy had known some of his tricks and manners in days gone by. at sunset that very same evening salook was surrounded by his warriors. "everything yonder," he said in swahili, as he pointed to the _sea flower_, "is yours. the little maiden shall be my slave. get ready your boats, and sharpen your spears. even were the ship a british man-of-war i'd board her." at sunset that evening tandy was surrounded by _his_ men, and pistols and cutlasses were served out to all. "we'll have trouble to-night, men," he said, "as soon as the moon rises. if there was a breath of wind off-shore i'd slip. we can't slip--but we'll fight." a cheer rose from the seamen, which tandy quickly suppressed. "hush! let us make them believe we suspect no treachery. but get up steam in the donkey engine, and connect the pipes." this is a plan of defence that acts splendidly and effectively against all kinds and conditions of savages. boiling water on bare skins causes squirming, so tandy felt safe. the ship carried but one big gun, and this was now loaded with grape. there wasn't a sound of life to be heard on board the barque, when about seven bells that night a flood of moonlight, shining softly o'er the sea, revealed the dark boats of the somalis speeding out to the attack. but every man on board was at his station. this was to be a fight to the very death, and all hands knew it. nearer and nearer they come--those demon boats. the biggest boat of all is leading, and, sword in hand, salook stands in the prow. it is crowded with savages, their spear-heads glittering in the moonbeams. on this boat the gun is trained. the rocks re-echo the crash five seconds after, but the echo is mingled with the yelling of the wounded and the drowning. ah! a right merry feast for the sharks, and salook goes down with the bottomless boat. the fight does not end with this advantage. those somalis are like fiends incarnate. not even the rifles and revolvers can repel their attack. see, they swarm on the bulwarks round the bows, for the ship has swung head on to the shore with the out-flowing tide. "give it to them. the water now, boys. warm them well!" oh, horror! the shrieking is too terrible to be described. in their boats the unwounded try to reach the shore; but the rifles play on these, and they are quickly abandoned, for the somalis can swim like eels. "now for loot, lads," cries tandy. "they began the row. man and arm the boats." when the _sea flower's_ men landed on the white sands, led on by tandy and ransey, the conquest was easy. a few volleys secured victory, and the savages were driven to their crags and hills. "let us spoil the egyptians," said tandy, "then we shall return and splice the main-brace." the loot obtained was far more valuable than the cargoes they had obtained by barter, and i need hardly say that the main-brace _was_ spliced. towards morning the wind came puffing off the land. it ought to have died away at sunrise, but did not. so the _sea flower_ soon made good her offing, and before long the land lay like a long blue cloud far away on the weather-beam. -----------------------------------------------------------------------the ship was reprovisioned at zanzibar, and one or two sick hands were allowed to land to be attended to at the french hospital. in less than a fortnight she once more set sail, and in two months' time, everything having gone well and cheerily, despite a storm or two, the _sea flower_ was very far at sea indeed, steering south-west, and away towards the wild and stormy cape horn. on going on deck one morning, halcott found tandy forward, glass in hand, steadying himself against the foremast, while he swept the sea ahead. "hallo! tandy. land, eh?" "no, it isn't land, halcott. a precious small island it would be. but we're a long way to the west'ard of the tristan da cunha, and won't see land again till we hail the falklands. have a squint, sir." "what do you make of her, sir?" asked tandy. "why, a ship; but she's a hulk, tandy, a mere hulk or derelict." "there might be some poor soul alive there notwithstanding." "i agree with you. suppose we overhaul her," said halcott, "and set her on fire. she's a danger to commerce, anyhow, and i'll go myself, i think." so the whaler was called away, and in a few minutes the boat was speeding over the water towards the dismantled ship, while the _sea flower_, with her foreyard aback, lay floating idly on the heaving sea. it was early summer just than, in these regions--that is, december was well advanced, and the crew were looking forward to having a real good time of it when christmas came. alas! little did they know what was before them, or how sad and terrible their christmas would be. "pull easy for a bit, men," cried halcott; "she is a floating horror! easy, starboard! give way, port! we'll get the weather gauge on her, for she doesn't smell sweet." not a living creature was there to answer the hail given by halcott. abandoned she evidently had been by the survivors of her crew, for the starboard boats still hung from her davits, while the ports were gone, and at this side a rope ladder depended. the boat-hook caught on; with strange misgivings halcott scrambled on board followed by two men. he staggered and almost fell against the bulwark, and no wonder, for the sight that met his eyes was indeed a fearful one. on the lower deck was a great pile of wood, and near it stood a big can of petroleum. it was evident that the crew had intended firing the ship before leaving her, but had for some reason or other abandoned the idea. halcott, however, felt that he had a duty to perform, so he gave orders for the paraffin to be emptied over the pile and over the deck. as soon as this was done lighted matches were thrown down, and hardly had they time to regain the boat and push off, ere columns of dark smoke came spewing up the hatchways, followed high into the air by tongues and streams of fire. before noon the derelict sank spluttering into the summer sea, and only a few blackened timbers were left to mark the spot where she had gone down. a few days after this the wind fell and fell, until it was a dead calm. once more the sea was like molten lead, and its surface glazed and glassy, but never a bird was to be seen, and for more than a week not a cloud was in the sky as big as a man's hand. nor was the motion of the ship appreciable. by day the sun shone warm enough, but at night the stars far in the southern sky shone green and yellow through a strange, dry haze. on saturday night tandy as usual gave orders to splice the main-brace. he, and halcott also, loved the real old saturday nights at sea, of the poet dibdin's days. and hitherto, in fair weather or in foul, these had been kept up with truly british mirth and glee. there was no rejoicing, however, on this particular evening, for two of the hands lay prostrate on deck. halcott himself ministered to them, sailor fashion. first he got them placed in hammocks swung under a screen-berth on deck. this was for the sake of the fresh air, and herein he showed his wisdom. then he took a camp-stool and sat down near them to consider their symptoms. but these puzzled him; for while one complained of fierce heat, with headache, and his eyes were glazed and sparkling, the other was shivering and blue with cold. he had no pain except cramps in his legs and back, which caused him an agony so acute that he screamed aloud every time they came on. halcott went aft to study. he studied best when walking on his quarterdeck. hardly knowing what he did, he picked up a bone that honest bob had been dining off, and threw it into the sea. there was still light enough to see, and the man at the wheel looked languidly astern. when three monster sharks dived, nose on, towards the bone, he looked up into the captain's face. "seen them before?" said halcott, who was himself superstitious. "bless ye, yes, sir. it's just four days since they began to keep watch, and there they be again. ah, sir! it ain't ham-bones they's a-lookin' arter. they'll soon get the kind o' meat they likes best." "what mean you, durdley?" "i means the chaps you 'as in the 'ammocks. listen, sir. there's no deceivin' jim durdley. we've got the plague aboard! i've been shipmate with she afore to-day." halcott staggered as if shot. "heaven forbid!" he exclaimed. no one on board cared much for this man durdley. nor is this to be wondered at. in his own mess he was quarrelsome to a degree. poor little fitz fled when he came near him, and many a brutal blow he received, which at times caused fierce fights, for every one fore and aft loved the nigger boy. durdley was almost always boding ill. his only friends were the foreigners of the crew, men that to make a complement of five-and-twenty tandy had hired in a hurry. mostly finns they were, and bad at that, and if there was ever any grumbling to be done on board the _sea flower_ these were the fellows to begin it. halcott recovered himself quickly, gave just one glance at durdley's dark, forbidding countenance--the man was really ugly enough to stop a church clock--and went below. he met tandy at the saloon door, and told him his worst fears. alas! these fears were fated to be realised all too soon. the men now stricken down were those who had boarded the derelict with halcott. one died next evening, and was lashed in his hammock and dropped over the bows a few hours afterwards. no doubt, seeing his fellow taken away, the other, who was one of the best of the crew, lost heart. "i'm dying, sir," he told halcott. "no use swallowing physic, the others'll want it soon." by-and-by he began to rave. he was on board ship no longer, but walking through the meadows and fields far away in england with his sister by his side. "i'll help you over the old-fashioned stile," fitz, who was nursing him, heard him say--"yes, the old-fashioned stile, lizzie. oh, don't i love it! and we'll walk up and away through the corn-field, by the little, winding path, to the churchyard where mother sleeps. look, look at the crimson poppies, dear siss. how bonnie they are among the green. ah-h!" that was a scream which frightened poor fitz. "go not there, sister. see, see, the monster has killed her! ah, me!" fitz rushed aft to seek for assistance, for the captain had told him to call him if corrie got worse. alas! when the two returned together, corrie's hammock was empty. no one had heard even a plash, so gently had he lowered himself over the side, and sunk to rise no more. book 2--chapter eleven. mutiny on board--far to the south'ard. "nothing certain at sea except the unexpected." the truth of this was sadly exemplified by the terrible calamity which had befallen the _sea flower_--and befallen her so suddenly, too! only one week ago she was sailing over a rippling sea on the wings of a favouring breeze, every wavelet dancing joyously in the sunlight. on board, whether fore or aft, there was nothing but hope, happiness, and contentment. till- "the angel of death spread his wings on the blast." now all is terror and gloom--a gloom and a terror that have struck deep into the heart of every one who knows what death and sorrow mean. a breeze has sprung up at last, and both halcott and tandy have reluctantly come to the conclusion that it will be better to steer for colder weather. so southward the _sea flower_ flies, under every stitch of canvas, with studding-sails low and aloft. shall the plague be stayed? heaven alone can tell! as it is, the depression hangs like a dark, foreboding cloud over the ship. no one cares to talk much by day or by night. the men sit silently at their meals, with lowered brows and frightened looks. they eye each other askance; they know not who may be the next. they even avoid each other as much as possible while walking the decks. hardly will a man volunteer to nurse the sick. the hammocks containing these hang on the lee side, and the crew keep far away indeed. but they smoke from morn till night. halcott himself and little fitz are the only nurses, and both are worn out for want of rest. with their own hands they sew up the hammock of the dead, unhook it, lift the gruesome burden on to the top of the bulwark, and, while the captain with uncovered head raises his eyes to heaven and utters a prayer, the body is committed to the deep, to be torn in pieces next minute by the tigers of the sea. poor little nelda! she is as merry as ever, playing with bob or the 'ral on the quarterdeck, and it is strange, in this ship of death, to hear her musical voice raised in song or laughter in the midst of silence and gloom! no wonder that, hearing this, the delirious or the dying fancy themselves back once more in their village homes in england. nelda wonders why the captain, who used to romp and play with her, tries all he can now to avoid her; and why little fitz, the curious, round-faced, laughing, black boy, with the two rows of alabaster teeth, never comes aft. halcott himself never goes below either. he insists upon taking his meals on deck. nor will he permit tandy or ransey to come forward. if _he_ can, he means to confine the awful plague to the fore part of the ship. they say that in a case of this kind it is always the good who go first. in this instance the adage spoke truly. terrible to say, in less than a fortnight no less than thirteen fell victims to the scourge. but still more, more awful, the crew now became mutinous. luckily, all arms, and ammunition as well, were safely stored aft. durdley was chief mutineer--chief scoundrel! out of the fourteen men left alive, only four were true to the captain, the others were ready to follow durdley. this fellow became a demon now--a demon in command of demons; for they had found some grog which had been in charge of the second mate--who was dead--and excited themselves into fury with it. durdley, the dark and ugly man, rushed to the screen-berth where halcott was trying to ease the sufferings of a poor dying man. he was as white as a ghost; even his lips were pale. beware of men, reader, who get white when angry. they are dangerous! "here, halcott," cried durdley, "drop your confounded mummery, and listen to _me_. lay aft here, my merry men, lay aft." nine men, chiefly finns and other foreigners, armed with ugly knives and iron marline-spikes, quickly stationed themselves behind him. "now, halcott, your game's up. you brought this plague into the ship yourself. by rights you should die. but i depose you. i am captain now, and my brave boys will obey me, and me alone. "you _hear_?" he shouted, for halcott stood a few paces from him, calmly looking him in the face. "i _hear_." "then, cusses on you, why don't ye speak? you'll be allowed to live, i say, both you and tandy, on one condition." "and that is--?" "that you alter your course, and steer straight away to the nearest land--the falkland isles--at once." "i refuse. back, you mutinous dog! back! i say. would you dare to stab your captain? your blood be,"--here the captain's revolver rang sharp and clear, and durdley fell to the deck--"on your own cowardly head." there was a wild yell and a rush now, and though the captain fired again and again, he was speedily overpowered. the revolver was snatched from his hand, and he was borne down by force of numbers. but assistance was at hand. "now, lads, give it to them! hurrah!" it was tandy himself, with the four good men and true, who had run aft between decks to inform the mate of the mutiny. all were armed with rifles, but these they only clubbed. so fiercely did they fight, that the mutineers speedily dropped their knives and iron marline-spikes, and were driven below, yelling for mercy like the cowards they were. the captain, though bruised, was otherwise intact. nor was durdley dead, though he had lost much blood from a wound--the revolver bullet having crashed through the arm above the elbow, and through the outside of the chest as well. but two finns lay stark and stiff beside the winch. even to tragedy there is always a ridiculous side or aspect, and on the present occasion this was afforded by the strange behaviour of bob and the admiral during the terrible _melee_. it is not to be supposed that bob would be far away from his master when danger threatened him. seeing ransey tansey, rifle in hand, follow his father to join in repelling the mutineers, it occurred to him at once that two might be of some assistance. it did not take the faithful tyke a moment to make up his mind, but he thought he might be of more use behind the mutineers than in front of them. so he outflanked the whole fighting party, and the attack he made upon the rear of durdley's following was very effective. the 'ral could not fight, it is true, but his excitement during the battle was extreme. round and round the deck he ran or flew, with his head and neck straight out in front of him, and his screams of terror and anger added considerably to the clamour and din going on forward. the poor bird really seemed to know that men were being killed, and seeing his master engaged, he would fain have helped him had he been able. of the ten men then who had mutinied three were wounded, including the ringleader, two were dead, and the remaining five were now taken on deck and roped securely alongside the winch to await their sentence. the deck was quickly cleared of the dead, and all evidences of the recent struggle were removed. durdley resembled nothing more nearly than a captured bird of prey. he was stern, silent, grim, and vindictive. had he not been utterly prostrate and powerless, he would have sprung like a catamount at the throats of the very men who were dressing his wounds, and these were tandy and halcott himself. yet it was evident that he was not receiving the treatment he had expected, nor that which he would have dealt out to halcott had he fallen into his hands. "why don't you throw me overboard?" he growled at last, with a fearful oath. "sharks are the best surgeons; their work is soon over. i'd have served you so, if my lily-livered scoundrels had only fought a trifle better, hang them! "ay, and you too, mr tandy, with your solemn face, if you hadn't consented to take us straight to land!" "keep your mind easy," said halcott, quietly. "i'll get rid of you as soon as possible, you may be well sure." "do your worst--i defy you. but if that worst isn't death, i'll bide my time. i'd rather die three times over than lie here like a half-stuck pig." -----------------------------------------------------------------------during the fight little nelda was in terrible distress, and, but for janeira, she would doubtless have rushed forward, as she wanted to do, in order to "help daddy and 'ansey." bob was the first to bring her tidings of the victory. he came aft at full gallop, almost threw himself down the companion-way, and next moment was licking the child's tear-bedewed cheeks. she could see joy in the poor dog's face. he was full of it, and trying as much as ever dog did try to talk. perhaps he never fully realised till now how awkward it is for a doggie to want a tail. but he did what he could, nevertheless, with the morsel of fag-end he had. "don't cry, little mistress," he was trying hard to say, "don't cry. it's all right now. and it was such fun to see them fighting, and i fought too. oh, didn't i bite and tear the rascals just." even the 'ral seemed to know that the danger was past and gone for a time, and nothing would suffice to allay his feelings save executing a kind of wild jig right on the top of the skylight--a thing he had never done before. but although quieted now, nelda was not quite content, till down rushed ransey tansey himself. with a joyful cry she flew to his arms, and he did all he could to reassure her; so successfully, too, that presently she was her happy little self once more, playing with bob on the quarterdeck, as if nothing had happened. blissful childhood. -----------------------------------------------------------------------the condition of affairs, after the ship had penetrated into the regions of ice and snow, was not an enviable one, although there was now a rent in the dark cloud that hovered over the _sea flower_--a lull in the terrible storm. durdley was progressing favourably, and making so rapid a recovery that, in case he might cause more mischief, he was put in irons. but the other wounded men, probably owing to their weak condition, had died. the five others were allowed to go on duty. halcott refused to accept their offered promise to behave leal and true. what is a promise, even on oath, from such bloodthirsty villains as these? "i do not wish either promise or apology," he told them plainly. "your conduct from this date will in some measure determine what your future punishment may be. remember this, we do not trust you. the four good englishmen, who fought for myself and mate, are all armed, and have orders to shoot you down without one moment's grace if they observe a suspicious movement on your part, or hear one single mutinous word. there! go." the ship's course was altered now, and all sail made to round cape horn. no doubt the cold had been the means of eradicating the dreadful plague. yet halcott was a man whom no half-measures would satisfy. there was plenty of clothing on board, so a new suit was served out to every seaman, the old being thrown overboard. then the bedding and hammocks were scoured, and when dry fumigated. sulphur was burned between decks, and hatches battened down for a whole day. every portion of the woodwork was afterwards scrubbed, and even the masts were scraped. this work was given to the mutineers, and a cold job it was. the men sat each one in the bight of a rope, and were lowered up or down when they gave the signal. halcott was very far indeed from being vindictive, but long experience had taught him that mutinous intentions are seldom carried out if active occupation be found for body and mind. "i breathe more freely now," said the captain, as tandy and he walked briskly up and down the quarterdeck. "heigho!" said tandy, "we no doubt have sinned--we certainly have suffered. but," he added, "i thank god, halcott, from my inmost soul, first that you are spared, and secondly, that my little innocent child here and my brave boy ransey tansey are still alive and happy." "amen! and now, tandy, we've got to pray for fine weather. we are rather underhanded--those wretched finns may break out again at any moment. they will, too, if not carefully watched." "you have a kinder heart than i have, halcott, else you'd have made that scoundrel durdley walk the plank, and hanged the rest at the yardarm, one by one." "the worst use you can put a man to is to hang him," said halcott, laughing. "but will you care to land on the island we are in search of, with these fellows?" asked tandy. "mind," he added, before halcott could answer, "i take no small blame to myself for having engaged such scoundrels. want of time was no excuse for me. better to have sacrificed a month than sail as shipmates with such demons as these." "keep your mind easy, my dear friend; i'll get rid of them, by hook or by crook, before we reach our island." "it relieves me to hear you say so, but indeed, halcott, 'twixt hook and crook, if i had my way, i should choose the crook. i'd give the beggars a bag of biscuit and a barrel of pork, and maroon them on the first desert island we come in sight of." i do not know that halcott paid much attention to the latter part of tandy's speech. he was at this moment looking uneasily at a bank of dark, rock-like clouds that was rising slowly up to the north and east. "have you noticed the glass lately, tandy?" he said quietly. "i'll jump down and see it now." "why," he said, on returning, "it is going tumbling down. i'll shorten sail at once. we're going to have it out of that quarter." there was little time to lose, for the wind was already blowing over the cold, dark sea in little uncertain puffs and squalls. between each there was a lull; yet each, when it did come, lasted longer and blew stronger than those that had preceded it. the barque was snug at last. very little sail indeed was left on her; only just enough to steer by and a bit over, lest a sail or two should be carried away. of the four trustworthy men, one was chips the carpenter, the other old canvas the sailmaker. the latter kept a watch, the former had been placed in tandy's. it was hard times now with all. watch and watch is bad enough in temperate zones, but here, with the temperature far below freezing-point, and dropping lower and lower every hour, with darkness and storm coming down upon them, and the dangers of the ice to be encountered, it was doubly, trebly hard. it takes a deal to damp the courage of a true british sailor, however, and strange as it may seem, that very courage seems to rise to the occasion, be that occasion what it may. but now, to quote the wondrous words of coleridge's "ancient mariner--" ... "the storm-blast came, and he was tyrannous and strong; he struck with his o'ertaking wings, and chased us south along. "with sloping masts and dipping prow. as who pursued with yell and blow still treads the shadow of his foe, and forward bends his head. the ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, and southward ay we fled. "and now there came both mist and snow, and it grew wondrous cold; and ice, mast-high, came floating by, as green as emerald. "and through the drifts the snowy clifts did send a dismal sheen: * * * * *. "the ice was here, the ice was there, the ice was all around: it cracked and growled, and roared and howled, like noises in a swound!" yes, the good barque _sea flower_ was driven far, far to the southward, far, far from her course; but happily, before they reached the icy barrier, the wind had gone down, so that the terrible noises in the main pack which the poet so graphically describes had few terrors for them. the wind fell, and went veering round, till it blew fair from the east. a very gentle wind, however, and hardly did the barque make five knots an hour on her backward track. others might be impatient, but there was no such thing as impatience about nelda, and little about ransey tansey either. everything they saw or passed was as fresh and new to them as if they were sailing through a sea of enchantment. the cold affected neither. they were dressed to withstand it. the keen, frosty air was bracing rather than otherwise, and warm blood circulated more quickly through every vein as they trod the decks together. how strange, how weird-like at times were the snow-clad icebergs they often saw, their sides glittering and gleaming in the sunshine with every colour of the rainbow, and how black was the sea that lay between! the smaller pieces through which the ship had often to steer were of every shape and size, all white, and some of them acting as rafts for seals asleep thereon--seals that were drifting, drifting away they knew not, cared not whither. sometimes a great sea-elephant would raise his noble head and gaze curiously at the passing barque, then dive and be seen no more. shoals of whales of a small species afforded our little seafarers great delight to watch. but these went slowly on their way, dipping and ploughing, and looking neither to the right hand nor to the left. the porpoises were still more interesting, for they seemed to live but to romp and play and chase each other, sometimes jumping right out of the water, so that it is no wonder nelda imagined they were playing at leap-frog. nelda, when told that these were schools of porpoises, said,-"oh, well, and school is just let out, i suppose; no wonder they are happy. and the big whales are their mothers! they are not happy because they are all going to church, quiet and 'spectable like." the myriads of birds seen everywhere it would be impossible here to describe. suffice it to say that they afforded nelda great delight. bob was as merry as ever; but when one day the 'ral walked solemnly aft wearing a pair of canvas stockings right up as far as his thighs, both tandy and halcott joined with the youngsters in a roar of hearty laughter. there was no more dance in that droll bird, and wouldn't be for many a long day. "a sail in sight, sah! a steamer, sah!" it was little fritz who reported it from the mast-head one morning, some time after the _sea flower_ had regained her course, had doubled the cape, and was steering north-west by west. the stranger lay to on observing a flag of distress hoisted, and soon a boat was seen coming rapidly on towards the _sea flower_. the steamer was the _dun avon_, homeward-bound from san francisco, with passengers and cargo. the captain himself boarded her with one of his men, and to him was related the whole sad story as we know it. "we have a clean bill of health now though," added halcott; "but we are short-handed--one man in irons, and five more that we cannot trust." "well," said the steamer captain, "i cannot relieve you of your black hats, but i'll tell you what i can do: i shall let you have four good hands if they'll volunteer, and if you'll pay them well. and i should advise you to set your mutineers on shore at the entrance to the strait of magellan, and let them take their chance. you're not compelled to voyage with mutineers, and risk the safety of yourselves and your ship. now write your letters home, for my time is rather short." -----------------------------------------------------------------------the four new hands were four hearties, as hard as a mainstay, as brown as bricks, and with merry faces that did one's heart good to behold. was it marooning, i wonder? well, it doesn't matter a great deal, but just ten days after this the mutineers were landed, bag and baggage, on the north cape of desolation island, not far from the route through the far-famed strait. with them were left provisions for six weeks, guns, ammunition, and tools. i never heard what became of them. if they were picked up by some passing ship, it was more than they deserved. "at last," said halcott, when the boat returned--"at last, friend tandy, an incubus is lifted off my mind, and now let us make------------------------------------------------------------------------"all sail for the island of gold." -----------------------------------------------------------------------end of book two. book 3--chapter one. "a sight i shall remember till my dying day." captain halcott sat on the skylight, and near him sat tandy his mate, while between them--tacked down with pins to the painted canvas, so that the wind might not catch it--lay a chart of a portion of the south pacific ocean. at one particular spot was a blue cross. "i marked it myself," said halcott; "and here, on this piece of cardboard, is the island, which i've shown you before--every creek and bay, every river and hill, so far as i know them, distinctly depicted." "the exact longitude and latitude?" said tandy. "as near as i could make them, my friend." "and yet we don't seem to be able to discover this island. strange things happen in these seas, halcott; islands shift and islands sink, but one so large as this could do neither. come, halcott, we'll work out the reckoning again. it will be twelve o'clock in ten minutes." "everything correct," said halcott, when they had finished, "as written down by me. here we are on the very spot where the island of misfortune should be, and--the island is gone!" there was a gentle breeze blowing, and the sky was clear, save here and there a few fleecy clouds lying low on a hazy horizon. nothing in sight! nor had there been for days and days; for the isle they were in search of lies far out of the track of outward or homeward-bound ships. "below there!" it was a shout from one of the new hands, who was stationed at the fore-topgallant cross-trees. "hallo, wilson!" cried tandy running forward. "here we are!" "something i can't make out on the lee bow, sir." "well, shall i come up and bring a bigger glass?" "one minute, sir!" "it's a steamer, i believe," he hailed now; "but i can't just raise her hull, only just the long trail of smoke along the horizon." tandy was beside the man in a few minutes' time. "this will raise it," he said, "if i can focus aright. why!" he cried next minute, "that is no steamer, tom wilson, but the smoke from a volcanic mountain or hill." down went tandy quickly now. "had your island of gold a chimney to it?" he said, laughing. he could afford to laugh, for he felt convinced this was _the_ island and none other. "there wasn't a coal mine or a factory of any kind on it, was there? if not, we will soon be in sight of the land of gold. volcanic, halcott--volcanic!" "keep her away a point or two," he said to the man at the wheel. "there were hills on the island of misfortune, but no signs of a volcano." "not then; but in this mystery of an ocean, halcott, we know not what a day or an hour may bring forth. "let me see," he continued, glancing at the cardboard map; "we are on the east side of the island, or we will be soon. why, we ought soon to reach your treachery bay. ominous name, though, halcott; we must change it." -----------------------------------------------------------------------nearer and nearer to the land sailed the _sea flower_. the hills came in sight; then dark, wild cliffs o'ertopped with green, with a few waving palm-trees and a fringe of banana here and there; and all between as blue a sea as ever sun shone on. "it is strangely like my island," said halcott; "but that hill, far to the west yonder, from which the smoke is rising, i cannot recognise." "it may not have been there before." "true," said halcott. but still he looked puzzled. then, after bearing round to the north side of the island, past the mouth of a dark gully, and past a rocky promontory, the land all at once began to recede. in other words, they had opened out the bay. "but all the land in yonder used to be burned forest, tandy." tandy quietly handed him the glass. the forest he now looked upon was not composed of living trees, but of skeletons, their weird shapes now covered entirely by a wealth of trailing parasites and flowery climbing plants. "i am satisfied now, and i think we may drop nearer shore, and let go the anchor." in an hour's time the _sea flower_ lay within two hundred yards of the beach. this position was by no means a safe one were a heavy storm to blow from either the north or the west. there would be nothing for it then but to get up anchor and put out to sea, or probably lie to under the shelter of rocks and cliffs to the southward of the island. the bay itself was a somewhat curious one. the dark blue which was its colour showed that it was deep, and the depth continued till within seventy yards of the shore, when it rapidly shoaled, ending in a snow-white semicircle of coral sands. then at the head of the bay, only on the east side, stretching seawards to that bold promontory, was a line of high, black, beetling cliffs, the home of those wheeling sea-birds. these cliffs were of solid rock of an igneous formation chiefly, but marked here and there with veins of what appeared to be quartz. they were, moreover, indented with many a cave: some of these, it was found out afterwards, were floored with stalagmites, while huge icicle-like stalactites depended from their roofs. rising to the height of at least eight hundred feet above these cliffs was one solitary conical hill, green-wooded almost to its summit. the western side of the bay, and, indeed, all this end of the island, was low, and fringed with green to the water's edge; but southwards, if one turned his eye, a range of high hills was to be seen, adding materially to the beauty of the landscape. the whole island--which was probably not more than sixteen miles in length, by from eight to nine in width--was divided by the river mentioned in captain halcott's narrative into highlands and lowlands. the day was far advanced when the _sea flower_ dropped anchor in this lovely bay, and it was determined therefore not to attempt a landing that night. halcott considered it rather an ominous sign that no savages were visible, and that not a single outrigger boat was drawn up on the beach. experience teaches fools, and it teaches savages also. just a little inland from the head of the bay the cover was very dense indeed; and though, even with the aid of their glasses, neither halcott nor tandy could discover a sign of human life, still, for all they could tell to the contrary, that green entanglement of bush might be peopled by wild men who knew the _sea flower_ all too well, and would not dare to venture forth. the wind went down with the sun, and for a time scarce a sound was to be heard. the stars were very bright, and seemed very near, the southern cross sparkling like a diamond pendant in the sky. by-and-by a yellow glare shone above the shoulder of the adjacent hill, and a great round moon uprose and sailed up the firmament as clear and bright as a pearl. it was just after this that strange noises began to be heard coming from the woods apparently. they were intermittent, however. there would be a chorus of plaintive cries and shrieks, dying away into a low, murmuring moan, which caused nelda, who was on deck, to shiver with fear and cling close to her brother's arm. "what on earth can it be?" said tandy. "can the place be haunted?" "haunted by birds of prey, doubtless. these are not the cries that savages utter, even during an orgie. but, strangely enough--whatever your experience may be, tandy--i have seldom found birds of prey on the inhabited islands of the south pacific." "nor i," said tandy. "look yonder!" he added, pointing to a balloon-shaped cloud of smoke that hovered over a distant hill-top, lit up every now and then by just such gleams of light as one sees at night penetrating the smoke from some village blacksmith's forge. but yonder was vulcan's forge, and jupiter was his chief employer. "yes, tandy, that is the volcano. but i can assure you there was no such fire-mountain, as savages say, when i was here last." "to-morrow," said the mate, "will, i trust, make every thing more plain to us." "to-morrow? yes, i trust so, too," said halcott, musingly. "shall we go below and talk a little?" "i confess, my friend," halcott continued, after he had lit his pipe and smoked some time in silence--"i confess, tandy, that i don't quite like the look of that hill. have you ever experienced the effects of a volcanic eruption in any of these islands?" "i have not had that pleasure, if pleasure it be," replied the mate. "pleasure, tandy! i do not know of anything more hideous, more awful, in this world. "when i say `any of these islands,' i refer to any one of the whole vast colony of them that stud the south pacific, and hundreds of these have never yet been visited by white men. "years ago," he continued, "i was first mate of the _sky-raker_, as bonnie a brig as you could have clapped eyes upon. it afterwards foundered with all hands in a gale off the coast of australia. when i trod her decks, second in command, i was a bold young fellow of twenty, or thereabouts; and i may tell you at once we were engaged in the queensland black labour trade. and black, indeed, and bloody, too, it might often be called. "we used to go cruising to the nor'ard and east, visiting islands here and islands there, to engage hands for working in the far interior. we arranged to pay every man well who would volunteer to go with us, and to land them again back home on their own islands, if they _did_ wish to return. "on these expeditions we invariably employed `call-crows.'" "what may a `call-crow' be, halcott?" "well, you know what gamblers mean on shore by a `call-bird' or `decoy-duck.' your `call-crow' is the same, only he is a black who has lived and laboured in queensland, who can talk `island,' who can spin a good yarn in an off-hand way, and tell as many lies as a recruiting-sergeant. "these are the lures. "no matter how unfriendly the blackamoors among whom we may land may be, our `call-rooks' nearly always make peace. then bartering begins, and after a few days we get volunteers enough." "but they do attack you at times, these natives?" "that's so, tandy; and i believe i was a braver man in those days than i am now, else i'd hardly have cared to make myself a target for poisoned arrows, or poisoned spears, so coolly as i used to do then." nelda, who had come quietly down the companion-way with her brother, seated herself as closely to captain halcott as she could. she dearly loved a story, especially one of thrilling adventure. "go on, cap'n," she said, eagerly. "never mind me. `poisoned spears,'--that is the prompt-word." "these black fellows were not of great height, tandy," resumed halcott. "savages," said nelda. "please say savages." "well, dear, savages i suppose i must call them. they were almost naked, and many of the elder warriors were tattooed on cheeks, chest, and arms. all had bushy heads of hair, and were armed with bows and arrows, spears and clubs, and tomahawks. "but," he added, "it was generally with the natives of those islands from which we had already obtained volunteers that we had the greatest trouble. the ship i used to sail in, tandy, was as honest as it is possible for such a ship to be, and i never saw natives ill-treated by any of our crew, though more than once we had to fight in self-defence. the reason was this. many ships that had agreed to bring the blacks back home, broke their promise, which, perhaps, they had never intended to keep. when they returned to the islands, therefore, to obtain more recruits, bloodshed was almost certain to ensue. if one white man was killed, then the revenge taken was fearful. at a safe distance the whites would bring their rifles and guns to bear upon the poor savages, and the slaughter would be too dreadful to contemplate. if the unhappy wretches took shelter in their woods or jungles, these would be set on fire, till at last a hundred or more of them would fling their arms away, hold up the palms of their hands in token of submission, or as on appeal for mercy, and huddle together in a corner like fowls, and just as helpless. the whites could then pick and choose volunteers as they pleased, and it is needless to tell you there was nothing given in exchange. "our trouble took place when we returned to an island, having found it impossible to bring the natives we had taken off back with us. this they looked upon as cheating, and they would rush to arms, compelling us to fire upon them in self-defence. "well, we were constantly on the search for new islands. the natives on these might threaten us for a time, but the `call-crows' soon pacified them. the beads and presents we distributed, coupled with the glowing accounts of life in queensland which the `crows' gave these poor heathen, did all the rest, and we soon had a cargo." "and this species of trade was, or is, called black-birding, i think," said tandy. "it was, and _is_ now, _sub rosa_. "but i was going to tell you of a volcanic eruption. before i do so, however, i propose that we order the main-brace to be spliced. for this is an auspicious night, you know, and i have not heard a jovial song on board the _sea flower_ for many and many a day. "janeira!" "yes, sah. i'se not fah away, sah." and janeira entered, smiling as usual, and as daintily dressed as a stage waiting-maid. "pass the word for fitz, janeira, like a good girl." "oh, he's neah too, sah. at you' service, sah!" fitz had been in the pantry eating plum-duff, or whatever else came handy. the pantry was a favourite resort with lord fitzmantle, and janeira never failed to put after-dinner tit-bits away in a corner for his especial delectation. "now, jane, you shall draw some rum, and, fitz, you must take it for'ard. here is the key, jane; and, fitz, just tell them for'ard to drink the healths of those aft, and sing as much as they choose to-night." "far away then, tandy and nelda," said halcott, resuming his narrative, "to the west of this island, farther away almost than the imagination can grasp, so solitary and wide is this great ocean, there used to be a small island called saint queeba. who first found it out, or named it, i cannot tell you, tandy, but i believe our own brig was the first that ever visited it in a black-birding expedition. "the population seemed to be about three thousand, and of these we took away at least one hundred and fifty. the poor creatures appeared to have no fear of white men, and so we concealed our revolvers and entered into friendly intercourse with them. "the island was a long way from any other, and this probably accounted for its never having been black-birded before. "we returned from australia almost immediately again after landing our recruits, and i for one felt sure the natives would welcome us. "so we brought extra-showy cloth and the brightest beads we could procure. "they did welcome us, and we soon had about half a cargo of real volunteers. "we were only waiting for others to come from the interior; for the wind was fair just then, and we were all anxious to proceed to sea. "the very evening before the arrival of the blacks, however, the wind went suddenly down, although, strangely enough, at a great altitude we could see scores of small black clouds scurrying across the sky. finally, some of these circled round and round, and combined to form a dark blue canopy that gradually lowered itself towards the island. "soon the sun went down, a blood-red ball in the west, and darkness quickly followed. it was just then that we observed a fitful gleam arise from the one and only mountain the island possessed. over this a ball of cloud had hung all day long, but we had taken little notice of it. "`i've never seen the like of that before, mate,' said the skipper to me, pointing at the slowly descending pall of cumulus. "`nor i either, captain,' i replied. "i couldn't keep my eyes off it, do what i would, for dark though the night was that strange cloud was darker. it seemed now to be sending downwards from its centre a whirling tail, or pillar, which the gleams that began to rise higher and higher from the developing volcano lit up, and tongues of fire appeared to touch. "`it's going to be a storm of some kind, halcott,' said my skipper. `oh, for a puff of wind, for, heaven help us, lad! we are far too near the shore.' "`i have it,' he cried next minute. `lower the boats and heave up the anchor.' "i never saw men work more willingly in my life before. even the blacks we had on board lent a hand, and no sooner was the anchor apeak than away went the boats, and the ship moved slowly out to sea. "we had got about three knots off-shore, when, happening to look back, i saw a sight which i shall remember to my dying day. "the black and awful whirling cloud had burst. if one ton of water came down like an avalanche, a million must have fallen, with a deafening roar like a thousand thunders. "it seemed as if heaven and earth had gone to war and the first terrific shot had been fired. "for a time the mountain was entirely enveloped in darkness; then up through this blackness rose high, high into the air a huge pillar of steam. this continued to rise for over an hour, with incessant thunder and lightning around the base of the hill. rain, almost boiling hot, fell on our decks, and hissed and spluttered on the still water around the ship, compelling us to fly below or seek the shelter of tarpaulins. "this ceased at last, and now we could see that the volcanic fire had gained the mastery; for the flames, with huge pieces of stones and rocks, were hurled five hundred feet at least into the starry sky. "for many hours the thunderings and the lightnings over that devoted island and around the hill were such, tandy, as i pray god i may never see or hear again. there were earthquakes, too; that was evident enough from the strange commotion in the water around us, and this was communicated to the ship. the best sailors on our brig could scarcely stand, far less walk. towards morning it had partially cleared, although the lightning still continued to play, fork and sheet, above the base of the volcanic hill. we could now see streams of molten lava pouring down the mountain's side, green, crimson, and violet. "very lovely indeed they were. but ah! then i knew the fate of those unhappy inhabitants was to be a terrible one. it would be a choice of deaths, for in less than half an hour the isle was one vast conflagration. we saw but little more of it even next day, for the lava was now pouring into the sea and a cloud of steam enveloped the scene of tragedy. "our decks were covered with dust and scoriae, and this fell steadily all that day. "we had managed by means of the boats to work off and away fully fifteen miles. this was undoubtedly our salvation; for presently we were struck by a terrible tornado, and it required all our skill to keep out of the vortex. "while it was still raging around us, an explosion away on our port quarter, where the island would be just then, seemed to rend the whole earth in pieces. many of our crew were struck deaf, and remained so for days. our ship shook, tandy, fore and aft, quivering like a dying rat. she seemed to have no more stability in her then than an old orange box. "an immense wave, such as i had never seen before, rose in the sea and swept on towards us. the marvel is that it did not swamp us. "as it was we were carried sky-high, and our masts cracked as if they were about to go by the board. smaller waves followed, and the gale that brought up the rear drove us far away from the scene of the terrible tragedy before the sun rose, redder than ever i had seen it before, for it was shining through the dust and debris of that broken up island. "i left the trade soon after this, tandy. i was tired and sick of black-birding. "but in my own ship, two years after this, i visited the spot. the island was gone; but for more than a mile in circumference the sea was strangely rippled, and gases were constantly escaping that we were glad enough to work to windward of. "but listen! our good little crew is singing. well, there is something like hope in that--and in the sweet notes of tom wilson's violin. he's a good man that, tandy, but he has a history, else i'm a hottentot. "well, just one look at the sky, and then i'll turn in, my friend. we don't know what may be in store for us to-morrow." and away up the companion-way went captain halcott. book 3--chapter two. "i see a beach of coral sand, dark figures moving to and fro." next morning broke bright and fair. not a cloud in all the heaven's blue; not a ripple on the water, just a gentle swell that broke in long lines of snow-white foam on the crescent shore--a gentle swell with sea-birds afloat on it. ah! what would the ocean be to a sailor were there no birds. the sea-gulls are the last to leave him, long after all other friends are gone, and the land, like a pale blue cloud far away on the horizon, is fading from his view. "adieu! adieu! away! away?" they shriek or sing, and as the shades of evening are merging into darkness they disappear. but these same birds are the first to welcome the mariner back, and even should there be no land in sight, or should clouds envelop it, the sight of a single gull flying tack and half-tack around the ship sends a thrill of hope and joy to the sailor's heart. on the deep, lone sea, too, jack has ay a friend, should it be but in the stormy petrel, the frigate-bird, or that marvellous eagle of the ocean, the albatross itself. those birds floating here around the _sea flower_ so quietly on the swell of the sea looked as happy as they were pure and lovely. no whiteness, hardly even snow itself, could rival the whiteness of their chests, while under them their pink legs and feet looked like little twigs of coral. the morning was warm, the sun was bright; they were moving gently with the tide, careless, happy. as he stood there gazing seawards and astern--for the ship had swung to the outgoing tide--halcott could not help envying them. "ah!" he said half aloud, "you are at home, sweet birds; never a care to look forward to, contentment in your breasts, beauty all around you." then his thoughts went somehow wandering homewards to his beautiful house, his house with a tower to it, and his lovely gardens. they would not be neglected though. it was autumn here. it would be spring time in england, with its buds, its tender green leaves, its early flowers, and its music of birds. then he thought of his dog. fain would he have brought him to sea. the honest collie had placed his muzzle in his master's hand on that last sad evening of parting, and glanced with loving, pleading eyes up into his face. "take me," he seemed to say, "and take _her_." _her_ was doris. his--halcott's--own doris; the lovely girl for whom he had risked so much, for whom he would lay down his life; the girl that would be his own fair bride, he told himself, if ever he returned. ah! those weary "ifs!" but he had looked into the dog's bonnie brown eyes. "friend," he had said, "you will stay with doris. you will never leave her side till i come back. you will watch her for me." and he remembered now how doris had at that moment thrown herself into his arms, and strained him to her breast in a fit of convulsive weeping. and this had been the parting. "what, halcott," cried tandy's cheerful voice, "up already! and--and-why, halcott, old man, there is moisture in your eyes!" "i--i was thinking of home, and--well, i was thinking of my dog." "and your doris. heigho! i have no doris, no beautiful face to welcome me home. but look yonder," he added, taking halcott's arm. little nelda stood at the top of the companion-way, the sunlight playing on her yellow hair, one hand held up to screen her face, delicate, pink, yet so shyly sweet, and her blue eyes brimful of happiness. just one look she gave, then, with arms outstretched, rushed gleefully towards her father. next moment she was poised upon his shoulder, and tandy had forgotten that there was any such thing as danger or sorrow in the world. the two men walked and talked together now for quite an hour. indeed, there was very much to talk about, for although they had made the island at last, they had no idea as yet how they should set about looking for the gold which they were certain existed there. they had not made up their minds as to what they should do, when janeira rang the bell for breakfast, and with fitz was seen staggering aft with the covered dish. "jane, you look happier than ever this morning. what is the matter? has some beautiful bird brought you a letter from home?" "de bootiful bird, sah, is lawd fitzmantle, and see, sah, dat is de letter from home." she lifted the dish cover as she spoke. beautiful broiled fish caught only that morning over the stern, but oh, the delicious odour would have revived the heart of a dying epicure! "babs is going to be very good to-day," said tandy to his little daughter after breakfast. "better than ever, daddy?" "yes, much, because i'm going on shore with captain halcott here and two men." "and _me_?" "no, not to-day, dear. we're going to climb that high hill and look all round us, and perhaps put up a flag; and ransey will let you look through a spyglass to see us, and we'll wave our hands to you. now will you be better than usual?" "ye-es, i think i'll try. and oh, i'll make the admiral look through the spyglass too, and when you see him looking through, you must wave your hand and fire your gun. then we'll all--all be happy and nicer than anything in the whole world." -----------------------------------------------------------------------it was not without a feeling of misgiving that halcott and tandy left the boat that had taken them on shore, and took their way cautiously towards the bush. there was hard work before them and the two sturdy fellows, chips and tom wilson, whom they had brought with them--hard work to penetrate through the jungle and to effect an ascent of the hill they had already named the observatory--hard work and danger combined. the crew of the boat stood gun in hand until they saw the party safe into the bush, then, more easy in their minds now, rowed slowly back to the ship. for if savages had been hiding under cover, the attack would have been made just as the party was stepping on shore. the exploring party kept to the extreme edge of the bush after penetrating and searching hither and thither for a time, but neither track nor trail of savages could they find. but they came across several little pathways that led here and there through the jungle, and at first they could not make out what these were. they learned before long, however; for bob, who had gone on ahead a little way, came suddenly and excitedly rushing out from a thicket. in his mouth he held something that tandy imagined was a rat, but the shrieking and yelling behind the dog soon undeceived him, and, lo! there now rushed into the open a beautiful little boar and a sow. the former flashed his tusks in the sunlight. he wanted the baby back. it was his, _his_, he said, and his wife's. he felt full of fight, and big enough to wage war against the whole world for that baby. tandy made bob drop it, which he did, and it ran squealing back to its mother. the boar, or king pig, said he accepted the apology, and would now withdraw his forces. and he accordingly did so by scuttling off again into the bush. these wild dwarf-pigs and a species of rock-rabbit were, they found afterwards, about the only animals of any size the island contained. after this trifling adventure they fought their way through a terrible entanglement of bush, till they reached the foot of the hill. the men had brought saws and axes with them, and were thus enabled by cutting here and whacking there to make a tolerably good road. when they reached the hill they found themselves in a woodland of beautiful trees. walking was now easy enough, and in about an hour's time they reached the summit of the hill and sat down to luncheon. eager eyes were watching their progress from the ship, for the upper part of this mount was covered only with stunted grass and beautiful heaths, among which they noticed many a charmingly-coloured lizard-green with crimson markings, or pale blue and orange--but they saw no snakes. tandy turned his glass now upon the barque, and there sure enough was nelda with the admiral by her side. he waved his coat, and twice he fired his gun. from the hill on which they stood the view was lovely beyond compare. they could see well into the highland part of the island, with its rolling woods, on which the fingers of autumn had already traced beauty tints; its bosky glens; its rugged rocks and hills; its streaks of silvery streams; the lake lying down yonder in the hollow, with something like a floating garden in its centre; and afar off the vast expanse of ocean. look which way they would, that sea was all before them, only dotted here and there far to the northward with islands much smaller than the one on which they stood. high up on the top of the volcanic hill a white cloud was resting, and its dark sides were seamed with many a waving line, the channels down which lava must have run during some recent eruption. "ha!" said halcott presently, "now i can understand the mystery of the burned forest. at first, when we landed here, we believed that the black-birders had been ahead of us; but no, tandy, no, it was nothing but the lava that fired the forest." but strangely enough, however, not a sign of human life was anywhere visible. was there any way of accounting for this? "what is your theory, halcott?" said tandy. halcott was lying on the green turf, fanning himself with his broad hat. but he now lit his pipe. like most sailors, he was capable of calmer and more concentrated thought when smoking. "tandy," he said slowly, after a few whiffs of the too seductive weed--"tandy, we have luck on our side. those blackamoors have fled helter-skelter at the first signs of the eruption. nothing in the world strikes greater terror to the mind of the ordinary savage--and precious ordinary most of them are--than a sudden convulsion of nature." another whiff or two. "what think you, men," he said, looking round him, "came up with the fire and the smoke from the throat of that volcanic hill?" "stones and ashes," ventured chips. "stones and ashes? yes, no doubt, but demons as well--so the dusky rascals who inhabited this island would believe--demons with fire-fierce eyes, tusks for teeth, and blood-red lolling tongues; only the kind of demons that at home nurses try to frighten children with, but more dreadful to those natives than either falling stones or boiling rain. "that is it, tandy; they have fled. heaven grant they may not come back. but if they do, we must try to give them a warm reception, unless they are extra civil. meanwhile, i think that old vulcan, at his forge in yonder hill, has not let out his fires. they are merely banked, and he is ready to get up steam at a moment's notice. "why, tandy, what see you?" the mate of the _sea flower_ was lying flat on the green hill-top, with his telescope resting on bob's back. "i see--i--see," he said, without taking his eye from the glass, "a little island far away, a level island it is." "yes. go on." "i see a beach of coral sand, dark canoes like tree-trunks are lying here and there, and i see dark figures moving to and fro, and many more around a fire. the beach is banked behind by waving plantain or banana-trees, and cocoa palms are nodding in the air." "then," said halcott, "i was right, and those savages you see, tandy, are the natives of this island of gold--for we shall call it the isle of misfortune never again--the very natives, tandy, who fled from this place when vulcan's thunders began to shake the earth." slowly homewards now they took their way, and just as the sun was westering stood once more upon the coral beach. the boat was speedily sent for them, and they were not sorry to find themselves once more on board. -----------------------------------------------------------------------fine weather continued, with scarcely ever a breath of wind, for a whole week. but this could not always be so. the ocean that stretches from the shores of south america far across to new zealand and australia is pacific by name, but not always pacific by nature, and terrible indeed are the gales and circular storms that sometimes sweep over its surface. so, knowing this, halcott and tandy determined to seek, if possible, a safer anchorage or harbour. it was with this view that they extended their explorations, and made little boat excursions round the rocky coast. these last nelda, much to her joy, was permitted to join. looking over the boat's gunwale, far down into the depths of the clear, transparent water, she could see marine gardens more lovely than any she had ever dreamt of. "oh," she cried, "look, daddy, look! that is fairyland. oh, i _should_ like to go down and see a mermaids' ball." after rounding the promontory, with its bold, bluff cliffs frowning darkly over the deep, they came to the entrance to the river. this river was fed by springs that rose far inland, and so wide was it at its mouth that the mariners hoped it would make a most excellent shelter and harbour for the _sea flower_. alas, greatly to their disappointment, they found it barred across. and no other spot could be found around the island coast. by paying out the anchors; however, which, getting a firm hold of the coralline bottom, were almost bound to hold, halcott believed the _sea flower_ could weather almost any storm. in this he was sadly mistaken, as the sequel will show. it was determined now to penetrate into the highland part of the isle itself, and make their first grand plunge for gold. if this could be found in sufficient quantities, their stay on the island need be but very brief. book 3--chapter three. "we shall always be brothers now--always, always." "just there, tandy," said halcott, as the two stood together a day or two after on the brink of a rocky chasm, at the bottom of which the river swept slowly along, dark and deep, because confined by the wet and perpendicular rocks--"just there it was where my friend, my almost brother, plunged over. he had torn up the bridge, as i told you, to save us from the black men's axes, and so doing sacrificed his life. ah, james! poor james! "see," he added, "the bridge has never yet been repaired." then they went slowly and sadly away, for tandy felt sorry indeed to witness the grief of his companion. "how he must have loved him!" he thought. but he remained silent. grief is sometimes far too deep for sympathy. they saw many little pigs to-day and rabbits also, as well as a species of pole-cat. but having still plenty of provisions on board they did not hamper themselves by making a bag. higher up the stream now they went, and after a time found a place that could be easily forded, the river meandering through a green and pleasant valley, studded here and there with fragrant shrubs and carpeted with wild flowers. monster butterflies darted from bloom to bloom--as big as painted fans they were, and radiantly beautiful; but still more beautiful were the many birds seen here and there, especially the kingfishers. so tame were these that they scarce moved even when the travellers came within a yard of them. asleep you might have believed them to be till one after another, with a half-suppressed scream of excitement, they left their perches to dive into a pool, so quickly too that they looked like tiny strips of rainbow. dinner was partaken of by the side of the stream, and after a time they crossed the ford. the country was rough and rolling and well-wooded, though few of the birds that flitted from bough to bough had any song; they made love in silence. the beauty of the colours is doubtless granted them for sake of the preservation of species, for there are lizards large enough here to prey upon them, did the birds not resemble the flowers. their want of song, too, is a provision of nature for the same purpose. they found the country through which they passed on their way to the lake so covered with jungle, here and there, that they had to climb hills to save themselves from being lost, having brought no compass with them. "ha! yonder is the lake," cried halcott; "and now we shall see the place where my dear girl and her mother were imprisoned; and, tandy," he added, "we may find gold." -----------------------------------------------------------------------close here, by the green banks of the little lake, and in a grove, much to their astonishment, they found a canoe. to all appearance it had been recently used, for there were the marks of feet on the grass, and in the canoe--a black dug-out--were a native tomahawk, a kind of spear or trident, and fishing-hooks of bone, most curiously formed, and evidently only recently used. "look to your guns now, lads," said halcott, "and keep out of sight; that island is inhabited." just at that moment, as if in proof of what he said, a slight wreath of smoke came curling up through the foliage of a large-leaved banana grove on the tiny island. a council of war was immediately held. the question to be debated was: should two of their number enter the canoe and row boldly off to the grass hut, the top of which could be seen peeping grey over the green of the trees? this had been tom wilson's proposition. he and chips, he said, would run the risk. there could not be many savages on the island. with revolvers in their hands they need not fear to advance under cover of the rifles of captain halcott and mr tandy. "poisoned arrows," said halcott, shaking his head, "speed swiftly from a bush. spears, too, fly fast, and the touch of either means death! "no, my good fellows, we must think of some other plan. i cannot afford to have you slain. if one or two savages would but appear, we could make signs of peace, or hold them up with our rifles." from his position at this moment halcott alone commanded a view of the islet, which was barely seventy yards away. the three others were sitting on the edge of the canoe. "oh!" this was a sudden exclamation of half-frightened surprise, and when tandy looked up, behold! there stood halcott in a position which seemed to indicate a sudden attack of catalepsy. halcott's shoulders were shrugged, his clenched fists held somewhat in advance, his head bent forward, eyes staring, brows lowered, and lips parted. halcott was a brave man, and tandy right well knew it. the sight of a score of spear-armed savages could not have affected him thus; he might be face to face with a tiger or a python, yet feel no fear. thinking his friend was about to fall, tandy sprang up and seized his arm. halcott recovered almost at once, and a smile stole over his bold, handsome, sailor face. but he spoke not. he could not just then. he only pointed over the bush towards the island, and tandy looked in the same direction. slowly from out the plantain thicket tottered, rather than walked, the tall figure of a white man. his long hair flowed unkempt over his shoulders; he was clothed in rags, and leaned upon a long, strong spear. he stood there for a moment on a patch of greensward, and, shading his eyes from the sunlight, gazed across the lake, and as if listening. then he knelt just there, with his right hand still clutching the spear, as if engaged in prayer. and tandy knew then without being told that the man kneeling yonder on the patch of greensward was the long-lost james malone himself. but no one moved, no one spoke, until at last the crusoe staggered to his feet. this he did with difficulty, moving as one does who has aged before his time with illness or sorrow, or with both combined. james had turned to go, when, with a happy cry, halcott sprang out from his hiding-place, dragging with him the small canoe and her paddles. "ship ahoy! james! james!" he shouted, "your prayers are heard. i'm here--your old shipmate, halcott. you are saved!" the captain sprang into the canoe as he spoke, and soon shoved her off. they could see now, in a bright glint of sunshine, that james's hair was long and had a silvery sheen. he gazed once more across, but shook his head. it was evident he would not credit his senses. then he turned round and moved slowly and painfully back into the bush. tandy had not attempted to go with halcott, though the canoe could easily have held two. "that meeting," he said to himself, "will be a sacred one. i shall not dare to intrude." it was quite a long time after he reached the island and disappeared in the grove before anything more was seen of halcott. tandy had thrown himself on the beach in a careless attitude, just as he used to lounge on summer days on the poop of the _merry maiden_ while slowly moving along the canal, and smoking now as he used to smoke then--smoking and thinking. but see, halcott is coming at last. he is leading james by the hand and helping him towards the boat, and in a few minutes' time both are over and standing on the bank of the lake. "tandy, this is james. but you know the strange story, and this is the strangest part of all." tandy took the hand that was offered to him. how cold and thin it felt! "god sent you here," said james slowly, and speaking apparently with some difficulty. "_his_ name be praised. it was for this happy meeting i was kept living on and on, though i did not know it. it has been a weary, terrible time. it is ended now, i trust." here a happy smile spread over his sadly-worn face, and once more he extended his hand to halcott. "heaven bless you, friend--nay, _brother_!" "yes, james, and we shall always be brothers now--always, always." book 3--chapter four. prisoner among savages--shipwreck. not a word about gold was spoken that night. to halcott had been restored that which is better far than much fine gold--the friendship of a true and honest heart. for many days james malone was far too weak to talk much, and he told them his story only by slow degrees as he reclined on the couch in the _sea flower's_ cabin, as often as not with little nelda seated on a camp-stool beside him, her little hand in his. she had quite taken to james, and the child's gentle voice and winning manners appeared to soothe him. his story was one of suffering, it is true, but of suffering nobly borne. hope had flown away at last, however. he found himself too ill to find his own living. at the very time halcott spied him, he had come forth expecting to look his last at sun and sky, just to pray, and then creep back into the cooler gloom of his hut to die. how he had been saved from the savages, in the first instance, is soon told. he had leaped, after he had seen every one safely over the bridge, into the deep pool with the intention of swimming down stream, hoping thus to avoid the natives, and, gaining the beach, make his way along the coast or across the promontory to join his friends on the other side. he had got almost a mile on, and was feeling somewhat exhausted, when the river suddenly narrowed again, and before he could do anything to help himself, he was caught in the rapids and hurried along at a fearful rate. sick and giddy, at last, and stunned by repeated blows received by contact with stones or boulders, he suddenly lost consciousness. "darkness, dearie," he said, as if addressing nelda only, "darkness came over me all at once, and many and many a day after that i lived to wonder why it had not been the darkness of death. "when i recovered consciousness--when i got a little better, i mean, dearie--and opened my eyes, i found myself lying in a clearing of the forest, pained, and bruised, and bleeding. "pained i well might be, for feet and hands were tightly bound with a species of willow. but i was alone. i thanked god for that. i had no idea how long i had lain there, but it was night, and the stars that brightly shone above me were, for a time, my only companions. they gave me hope--oh, not for this world, but for the next. i felt my time would soon come, and that, baulked in their designs on the ladies, the savages would torture and sacrifice me. in spite of my sores and sufferings, some influence seemed to steal down from those holy stars to calm me, and i fell fast asleep once more. it could not have been for long, though. i had a rude awakening. all around me, but some distance off, was a circle of dusky warriors, spear-armed. i could see their eyes and teeth gleaming white in the starlight, as they danced exultingly round and round me, brandishing their weapons and uttering their wild yells, their savage battle-cries. "but every now and then the circle would be suddenly narrowed, as a dozen or more of the fiercest and most demon-like rushed upon me with levelled spears, and it was then i thought my time had come. but the bitterness of death was past, and now, as if mad myself, i defied them, laughed at them, spat at them. my voice sounded far-off. i could hardly believe it was my own. "but, as if by magic, suddenly every warrior disappeared, and into the clearing stalked a savage taller than any i had yet seen. his spear was like a weaver's beam, as says the bible. with hair adorned with feathers, with face, chest, and arms disfigured by tattooing--the scars in many places hardly yet healed--with awful mouth, and gleaming, vindictive eyes, he looked indeed a fearsome figure. "at each side of him marched three men carrying torches, and close behind two savages bearing a litter, or rude hammock, of branches. on to this i was roughly lifted, and borne away through the dark woods. "but whither? i hardly dared guess at the answer to that question. to death, i felt certain--death by torture and the stake. the chief would yet, he doubtless believed, have `white blood' to drink, and that blood should be mine. "it was to the small lake island, however, on which you found me, that i was carried, more dead than alive, and here i was to be kept a prisoner until the full of another moon. "i need not tell you how i gradually ingratiated myself into favour, first with the medicine-man, and afterwards with the king himself, whom i taught much that was of use to him in the arts of peace, till he came to consider me far more useful alive than dead. nor am i willing to speak before this dear child of the awful rites, the mummeries, and fearful human sacrifices that my eyes have witnessed. the wonder is, that instead of living on as i did--though life has been in reality but a living death--i did not become insane, and wander raving through the woods and forests. "but the savages have been driven from the island at last, terrorised by the demons of the burning mountain, and i do not think that they are likely to return during the few weeks we shall be here. "they fled in their canoes precipitately on the first signs of eruption. the boats were terribly overcrowded, and although they lightened them by throwing women and children overboard to the sharks, at least three great war-canoes were sunk before my eyes. "it was a fearful sight! may no one here ever live to have such experiences as i have passed through." -----------------------------------------------------------------------as soon as he could bear to listen to it, halcott told james all his own story and that of the _sea flower_ since she left the shores of england. "like myself," said james, "you have been mercifully preserved. "as to gold," he continued, "i am fully aware that the medicine-man had many utensils of the purest beaten gold. they were used for sacrificial purposes; and, at one time, when the king and his warriors returned from utterly wiping out the inhabitants of an island to the nor'ard of this, and brought with them a crowd of prisoners, these golden utensils were filled over and over again with the blood of the victims, and drunk by the excited warriors. after this i never troubled myself about gold in any shape or form; but just before the exodus, i believe these vessels were hurriedly buried on the little island. if not, they have been thrown into the lake." "is it in your power to tell us, james, where these vessels of gold were made, or where the gold was obtained?" "they were fashioned, dear brother, by the spear-makers, with chisels and hammers of hard wood and stone. "even the medicine-man himself knew nothing of the value of the metal. it was easy to work, that was all, else iron itself would have been preferred. you ask me whence the gold was obtained. i can only inform you that the secret lay and lies with the magician himself, and that the mine is a cave at the foot of the burning mountain, probably now entirely filled up with lava. once, and once only, was i permitted to accompany this awful wretch to the grove near which this cave is situated. i was not allowed to go further. here i waited for a whole hour, during which time i now and then heard muffled shrieks and yells of pain and agony that made me shudder." "what could these have been, think you, james?" "can you not guess? at least, you may, when i tell you that a poor boy was forced to enter the cave with the medicine-man, but never again saw the light of day. "i had learned by this time to talk the language of these savages, and all the information i received, when i questioned the monster, was that the demons of the fiery hill had to be propitiated. "but he brought back with him two huge nuggets that i could see were gold. "this was the price, he told me, that he had been paid for the _kee-waaee_. [youth]. "i never saw those nuggets again, but believe they were fashioned into spear-heads for the king." -----------------------------------------------------------------------while halcott and james were talking quietly down below, tandy was walking the deck with considerable uneasiness. there was a strange appearance far away in the north that he did not like. no banks of clouds were rising, only just a curious black, or rather purple, haze. it had been so very clear all round up till an hour ago, that danger would have been the last thing tandy would have thought about. he looked towards the distant island through his glass at three o'clock, and it was then visible; but now, though the dog-watch had only just begun, it was wiped out, swallowed up in the mysterious haze. but when a bigger wave than usual rolled in, and others and others followed, and when the surface became wrinkled here and there with cat's-paws, he hesitated no longer. "all hands on deck!" he shouted, stamping loudly on the planks to arouse those below. "hands loosen sail! man the winch, lads! it must be up anchors, and off!" there was wind enough shortly to work to windward till they were quite clear of the bay, then they kept the barque away on the starboard tack, until well clear of the island. they now worked northwards as far as possible, till the wind got too strong, when they were obliged to lie to, almost under bare poles. neither tandy, halcott, nor james could remember having encountered so terrible a storm before. no one thought of turning in that night, for, being so short-handed, every man was needed on deck. -----------------------------------------------------------------------about midnight this fearful gale was evidently at its worst. the sea was then making a clean breach over the ship from fore to aft. the darkness was intense; hardly any light was there at all from the sky, save now and then a bright gleam of lightning that lit up mast, rigging, and shrouds, and the pale faces of the men as they clung in desperation to bulwark or stay. each lightning flash was followed by a peal of thunder that sounded high above even the incessant roaring of the wind. surely it was every one for himself now, and god for all who put their trust in him. it was probably about five bells in the middle-watch, the hatches being firmly battened down, when ransey tansey crept under the tarpaulin that covered the after companion, and lowered himself down as well as the terrible motion of the ship permitted him. he staggered into the saloon. a light was burning in his father's state-room, the light of a candle hung in gimbals. towards the door he groped his way, hoping against hope that he would find his little sister asleep and well. "o jane, are you here?" he said; "so glad." janeira rose as he entered, clinging to the edge of the upper bunk in the endeavour to steady herself. "iss, i'se heah, sah. been praying heah all de night to de good lawd to deliber us. been one big night ob feah, sah. but de sweet child, she go to sleep at last." "did she cry much?" "no; she much too flighten'd to weep." ransey bent low over his sister, and felt relieved when certain that she was breathing and alive, for she slept almost like one in a trance. ransey had long since become "sea-fast," as sailors call it. no waves, however rough, could affect him, no ship's motion however erratic. but just at that moment his head suddenly swam; he felt, as he afterwards expressed it, that he was being lifted into the clouds; next moment a crash came that extinguished the light and hurled him to the deck. for a moment he felt stunned and unable to move; and now, high above the shrieking of the storm-wind, came the sound of falling and breaking timber, and ransey knew the ship was doomed. book 3--chapter five. fortifying the encampment. the sound was that of falling masts. a sailor of less experience than ransey could have told that. the barque had been dashed stern-foremost upon the rocks. she had been lifted by one of those mighty waves, or "bores," that during a storm like this sometimes rise to the height of fifty feet or more, and hurrying onwards sweep over islands, and pass, leaving in their wake only death and destruction. after the masts had gone clean by the board, there were loud grating noises for a short time, then the motion of the ship ceased--and ceased for ever and ay. nelda's voice, calling for her father, brought the boy to himself. "i'm here, dear," he sang out. "it is all right; i'll go and get a light; lie still." "oh, don't leave me. tell me, tell me," wept the wee lass, "is the ship at the bottom? and are we all drowned?" luckily, janeira now managed to strike a light, and poor nelda's mind was calm once more. bob had slept on the sofa cushions all throughout this dreadful night; but ransey was now very much astonished, indeed, to see the stately 'ral walk solemnly in at the door, and gently lower his head and long neck over nelda, that she might scratch his chin. "oh, you dear, droll 'rallie," cried the child, smiling through her tears, "and so you're not drowned?" but no one could tell where the 'ral had spent the night. under the influence of great terror, the admiral was in the habit of "trussing" himself, as the sailors called it--that is, he close-reefed his long neck till his head was on a level with his wings, and his long bill lying downwards along his crop. then he drew up his thighs, and lowered himself down over his legs. he was a comical sight thus trussed, and seemed sitting on his tail, and no taller than a barn-door fowl. it was convenient for him, however, for he could thus stow himself away into any corner, and be in nobody's way. -----------------------------------------------------------------------daylight came at last, and it was now found that the _sea flower_ had been lifted by the mighty wave, and after being dashed into a gully in the barrier of rocks that stretched along the eastern side of treachery bay, had been left there high and dry. the marvel is that, although several of the hands had been more or less shaken and bruised, no one was killed. the position of the wrecked barque was indeed a strange one. luckily for her the sea had risen when the tide was highest, so that she now lay on an even keel upon the shelf of rocks, twenty feet above the bay at low water. the monster wave seemed to have made a clean breach of the lowland part of the island, and gone surging in through the dead forest, smashing thousands of the blackened trees to the ground, and quite denuding all that were left of their beautiful drapery of foliage, climbing flowers, and floral parasites. at each side of the gully the black rocks towered like walls above the hulk, but landwards, a green bank, of easy ascent, sloped up to the well-wooded table-land above. as speedily as possible the main part of the wreckage was cleared away. this consisted of a terrible entanglement of ropes and rigging. but the spars were sawn up into lengths that could be easily moved, and so, in a few hours' time, the unfortunate _sea flower_ was simply a dismantled hulk. when the work was finally accomplished, the men were permitted to go below, to cook breakfast, and sleep if they had a mind to. but not till prayers were said, and thanks, fervent and heartfelt, offered up to the god who, although he had seen fit to wreck the ship, had so mercifully spared the lives of all. -----------------------------------------------------------------------strange, indeed, was now the position of these shipwrecked mariners, and it was difficult for halcott, tandy, and james malone to review it with even forced calmness. the three men walked up together to the table-land to hold a council, taking no one with them. the storm had gone down almost as quickly as it had arisen, and sea and sky were blue and beautiful once again. said james, as they all sat smoking there,-"brother halcott, my first words are these--and i'm an older man than either of you--we must not despair!" "we must not despair!" repeated both his shipmates. but they did not smile, and their voices sounded almost hollow, or as if they came up out of a phonograph. james laid his hand on his friend's knee. "our prospects are bad, i allow," he said, "the future looks dark and drear. we are far, far beyond the ordinary track of ships; ships seldom, if ever, come this way, unless driven out of their course by stress of weather. i think, then, brother, that we may dismiss from our minds, as useless, all hope from that direction. but dangers loom ahead that we must not, dare not, try to minimise. we are here with but limited supplies of food and ammunition, and these can hardly last for ever. the nearest land is hundreds and hundreds of miles away, the wild, inhospitable shores of northern patagonia. we are but eleven all told, excluding the boys ransey and fitz, the dear child, and janeira-eleven working hands. could we expect or dare, as a last resource, to reach the far-off land in two open boats? did we attempt this, we should have to reckon, at the outset, upon opposition from the wild natives of that north island; then on the dangers of the elements during this long, forlorn cruise. worst of all, if not an-hungered, we might perish from thirst. tandy, you would go mad were you to see the anxious, fevered face and dry, parched lips of your child upturned to the sky, weak and weary, and praying for the drop of water you could not find to give her." "hush, james, hush!" cried tandy; "sooner far we should all die where we are." "i do not mention these matters to worry you, men, but that, knowing our dangers, we may be prepared to face them. "then," he continued, "there is the king of this island and his warriors to be thought about. fools, indeed, were we did we not reckon on these, for they constitute the danger that presses most, now that we are wrecked--the danger, probably, first to be faced." "you think, then, they will return?" james malone pointed to the far-off volcanic hill, which was once more belching forth smoke. "they will return," he said, "when yonder cloud rests no longer on the mountain top. "yes, brother, it might be possible to make friends of them. but i doubt it. treachery is written on every lineament of their black and fearsome faces. i should never, never trust them. "and now, men," he continued, after a thoughtful pause, "i have painted our situation in its darkest colours. let us see, then, where the light comes in. the light and the hope." as he spoke he took from his bosom a little bible and those big horn "specs" that halcott mentioned in his story. these last he mounted on his nose, and turning over the leaves read solemnly as follows:-"`god is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. "`therefore will not we fear, though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea. "`the heathen raged, the kingdoms were moved; he uttered his voice, the earth melted. "`the lord of hosts is with us; the god of jacob is our refuge. amen!' "in these words," said james closing the book, "and in many such promises, do i place my hope and confidence. god heard _my_ prayers before, gentlemen. he will hear _ours_ now. i think our deliverance will come about in some strange way. just let us trust." but james malone's religion was of a very practical kind. "trust in god, and keep your powder dry," are words that have been attributed to cromwell. they are to the point. "_fortuna favet fortibus_," (fortune favours the brave), you know, reader; and it is wrong to expect god to help us to do that which he has given us the power to do for ourselves. "and now, gentlemen," said james, rising to his feet, "let us work." -----------------------------------------------------------------------"the first thing to be considered, then," said halcott, "is, i think you will agree with me, james, our defence." "that is so," said james quietly. "the savages will come sooner or later, i fear, and it is but little likely they will come prepared to shake us by the hand and make friends with us. even if they did, i should be prepared to fight them, for you never know what might happen." "right, james, right. we may be thankful anyhow that as yet we are all spared and well. now, you just have the hands lay aft, and tell them, brother, in your convincing way, how matters stand. speak to them as you spoke to us." james answered never a word, but went straight down the green declivity and boarded the vessel. he did not ask the men to come to the quarterdeck--james was non-demonstrative in all his methods. he would have no "laying aft" business. this was too much man-of-war fashion for him, so he simply went forward to the forecastle and beckoned the few hands around him. a minute or two after this halcott and tandy, still lying at ease on the brow of the embankment, heard a lusty cheer. from their position they could command a view of the deck, and now, on looking down, behold! the brave little crew were taking off their jackets and tightening their waist-belts, and a mere tyro could have told that that meant business. halcott got up now; he plucked a pinch of moss, and after plugging his pipe therewith he placed it carefully away in his jacket pocket. that meant business also. "come, tandy," he said, and both descended. the position, it must be admitted, was one which it would be rather difficult for so small a garrison to defend successfully. the vessel, as i have already said, had been dashed stern on to the rocks and into the gully, and the jibboom hung over a black, slippery precipice that descended sheer down into the sea. this cliff, however, was not so slippery but that it might afford foothold for naked savages. it must be included, therefore, in the plan of defence. but from the cliffs that rose on each side of the ship an enemy could attack her, and the deck below would then be quite at the mercy of their poisoned spears and their clouds of arrows, while the bank astern which sloped upwards to the table-land could easily be rushed by a determined foe. an outer line of defence was therefore imperative; in fact this would be of as much service to these crusoes as the channel fleet is to the british islands. this part of the work was therefore the first to be commenced, and merrily indeed the men set to work. they began by clearing away the bush all round the gully where the _sea flower_ lay, to the extent of forty yards, being determined to leave not a single shrub behind which a savage might conceal himself. everything cut down was hauled to the top of the cliff and trundled into the sea. to have lit a fire and burned it would have invited the attention of the natives on that far-off island, and a visit of curiosity on their part would have ended disastrously for the shipwrecked party. it took days to clear the bush away, and not only the men but the officers as well bore a hand and slaved away right cheerfully. no one was left on board except ransey tansey himself, the nigger boy, and janeira. nelda insisted on going on shore with the working party, the marvellous crane flew down from the hulk, and bob was always lowered gently over the side. these three were the superintendents, as halcott called them; they had nothing to do but play about, it is true, but their very happiness inspired the men and made the work more easy. the other three--those left on board--had work to do, for on them devolved the duty of preparing the meals for all hands; and in this duty they never failed. well, the jungle was cleared at last, and this clearance, it was determined, should be extended and made double the width at least. and now began the hard labour and toil of erecting the stockade, and in this strength was of very great importance. but it was not everything. the wooden wall must be built on scientific principles, so that a volley could be fired on an enemy attacking from any direction. the building of this fortification, with its strong-barred gate, took our crusoes quite a month. no one can marvel at this, if they bear in mind that the trees had to be cut down in the woods, and dragged all the way to the cliff before they could be fashioned and put into place; that the rain sometimes put a stop to work entirely, so heavy and incessant was it; and, moreover, that the men suffered a good deal from the bites of poisonous and loathsome insects, such as centipedes and scorpions. the wounds made by either of these had to be cauterised at once, else serious results would have followed. at last the palisade and gate were finished, loopholed, and plentifully studded with sharp nails and spikes outside. after this the little garrison breathed more freely. there was much to be done yet, however, before they could sleep in security. book 3--chapter six. an awful secret of the sea. having finished the first line of defence, attention was turned to the inner works. how best could the crusoes repel boarders if the palisade were carried, and a rush made down the embankment with the view of attacking the ship? it was some time before this question could be answered with any degree of satisfaction. i think that the plan finally adopted was the best under the circumstances. during such an attack, not only would the defenders have to do all they could to stop a rush down the sloping bank, but protect themselves also from the spears that would be hurled at them from the cliffs above. an inner palisade was therefore erected, not so strong as the other; and right over the after part of the quarterdeck, and round a portion of its bulwarks, a shed was erected, under which the men could work their rifles and the great gun with comparative safety. if the outer line should be broken through, the savages would no doubt attack in their fullest force, and a gun loaded with grape-shot would play awful havoc in their ranks; and boiling water from the donkey engine would in all probability suggest to the enemy the advisability of a quick retreat. nevertheless, the outlook, even should they be thus repelled, would be a black one, and a state of siege could only have one sad ending. but let me not be "too previous," as humourists say. -----------------------------------------------------------------------so quickly does time slip away when a person is busy that when, one morning at breakfast, james malone said quietly, "men, we have been here for just two months to-day," halcott could scarcely credit it. but a reference to the log, which was still most carefully kept, revealed the truth of what james had said. two months! yes; and as yet the weather and the work had prevented them from penetrating inland in search of nature's hidden treasures. but the rain ceased at last; and though clouds still hung around, and mists often obscured the sea for days at a time, the glorious spring time had come again, and the island was soon a veritable land of flowers. the first visit inland was made to the lake of the lonely isle, as it was called. but a bridge had to be built over the chasm, to replace that torn up by the hands of brave james malone. this was easily formed of trees, with a rail at each side, and this bridge shortened the distance to the little lake by several miles. the working party carried picks and spades and axes, for it was determined to thoroughly overhaul the island in search of the utensils used by the priests during their awful human sacrifices. the isle was a very small one, but, nevertheless, it took three whole days to thoroughly search it. and every evening they returned to the ship unsuccessful, but certainly not disheartened. halcott told his brave fellows that if more gold were found than simply enough to pay the expenses of the voyage, not including the loss of the ship, for that was insured, they would have a good percentage thereof, and something handsome to take home to wives and sweethearts. so, although they knew in their hearts that they might never live to get home, they worked as willingly and as merrily as british sailors ever did "for england, home, and beauty," as the dear old song has it. i may as well mention here, and be done with it, that lord fitzmantle, the nigger boy, very much to his delight, was appointed signalman-in-chief to the forces. observatory hill was not a difficult climb for fitz, and here a flag-staff had been erected. an ensign hoisted on this point could be seen not only over all the island but over a considerable portion of the sea as well. but fitz received strict orders not to hoist it unless he saw a passing ship. bob was allowed to accompany the boy every day. dinner was therefore carried for two, and fitz, who could read well, never went without a book. one day, while james and halcott were wandering, somewhat aimlessly it must be confessed, in a wood not far from the lake, they came upon a clearing, in the midst of which stood a solitary, strange, weird-looking dead tree. it was a tree of considerable dimensions, and one side of it was much charred by fire. "it was just here," said james quietly, pointing to the spot, "where i should have been burned, had not providence mercifully intervened to save my somewhat worthless life." both walked slowly toward that tree, and acting like a man in deep thought, halcott carelessly kicked it. it may sound like a sentence read out of a fairy book when i say that a little door in that part of the tree suddenly flew open inwards; but it is nevertheless true. "the treasure must be hidden here!" said halcott. he was just about to plunge his hand into the hole when james restrained him. "stay, for heaven's sake, stay!" he cried excitedly. "the treasure, brother, may be there. i never thought of this before; but," he added, "if the treasure is there, something else is there also, and we have that to deal with first." as he spoke, he took from his pocket a small piece of flint and some touch-paper. then he gathered a handful of withered grass, struck fire with the back of his knife against the flint--james was very old-fashioned--placed the smoking paper in the grass, shook it, and soon had it in fire. then he thrust this into the hole, and ran quickly back a few yards. "keep well away," he cried to his companion. next minute the head and neck of a huge crimson snake was protruded-hissing. james fired at once. it was an ugly sight to see that headless serpent wriggling and leaping on the clearing. "that," said james, as he seized it by the tail and flung it far into the bush, "was the chief medicine-man's familiar. there are no snakes on the island, so where he procured it was always a mystery to me. but its possession gave the man great power over even the king himself, all believing it to be an evil spirit. and no wonder, for this `red devil,' as the natives called it, although the medicine-man could handle it safely enough, was often permitted to bite a boy or a girl in the king's presence, and the child invariably died in convulsions." "horrible!" said halcott. "was there only one?" "there was only one, and--it will never bite again." they walked back now towards the lake, and soon returned in company with chips and wilson armed with axes. it was hard work, and an hour of it, too, cutting through that tree; but it fell with a crash at last--"carried away close by the board," as halcott phrased it. "now, men," said james, "search among the debris in the hollow stump and see what you can find." james and halcott stood quietly by leaning on their rifles. but they laughed with very joy as the men pulled out bowl after bowl of beaten gold, to the number of seven in all. these were far from artistic, but they were large and heavy. inside they were black with blood. chips stood up and wiped the perspiration from his brow. "my eye and betty martin! captain halcott, here's a go. why, we'll be all as rich as water-cresses." and he joyfully tossed his hat in the air, and kicked it up again as it descended. chips was a queer chap. but having now relieved his feelings, the search was proceeded with. and when it was all over, and nothing further to be found, the inventory of the treasure now exposed to view, every article of purest gold, was as follows:-a. seven bowls, weighing about twelve pounds each. b. thirty-five spear-heads, solid and very heavy. c. fifteen gold daggers, similar to that brought away from the island by doris herself. d. fifteen larger and curiously shaped knives. e. one hundred or more fish-hooks. f. nineteen nuggets of gold of various sizes--one immense nugget weighed 149 pounds! [the largest nugget ever found weighed over 180 pounds. it was dug up, i believe, at ballarat.--g.s.] no wonder these two men were excited. "i say, sir," said chips, "i guess you'll splice the main-brace to-night." "that we will with pleasure," replied halcott. "and," cried tom wilson, "i'll fiddle as i've never fiddled before. i'll make all hands laugh one minute, and i'll have them all crying the next." poor wilson! it was noted that this man never touched rum himself, but invariably gave his share to another. the main-brace _was_ spliced that night, and that, too, twice over. it happened to be saturday night. it could not be called saturday-night-at-sea, but it was saturday night on board a ship; and despite the fact that the vessel was but a wreck and a hulk, it was spent in the good old fashion. an awning was always kept spread over the fore part of the ship, and it was under this that the crew smoked and yarned in the evenings. to-night the officers had gone forward to hear tom wilson play. he did make them laugh. i do not know that his pathetic pieces caused many tears to flow, beautifully executed though they were, but late in the evening--and ten o'clock was considered late on board the hulk--when halcott asked for a favourite air of his, tom hesitated for a moment, then took up the violin. there was a beauty of expression and sadness about tom's interpretation of this beautiful melody that held everybody spell-bound; but when at last the poor fellow laid his instrument on the table, and with bent head burst into tears, the astonishment of every one there was great indeed. jack, however, is ever in sympathy with sorrow, and chips, rough old chips, got up and went round behind tom wilson. "come, matie," he said, patting him gently on the shoulder. "what is it, old heart? music been too much for you? eh? come, come, don't give way." tom wilson threw back his head and lifted his face now. "thank you, chips; thank you, lad, and bless you. nay, nay, i will not tell you to-night the reason of my stupid tears. i'm not the man to sadden a saturday night. come, lads, clear the decks. i'll play you the grandest hornpipe you ever listened to." and play he did. every note, every tone was thrilling. a dance was soon got up, and never before, not even in a man-of-war, did men foot the deck more merrily than those shipwrecked crusoes did now. but the queerest group there was just amidships, where janeira herself and fitz--all white eyes and flashing teeth--were madly tripping it on the light fantastic toe; while little nelda and that droll old crane danced a fandango, that caused all hands, including even tom himself, to shout with laughter when they beheld it. the very solemnity of the crane as he curved his neck, hopped, and pirouetted, was the funniest part of the performance. but next day all hands knew tom's pathetic story. "that air i played," he told them, "was my little daughter fanny's favourite. fanny is dead. georgie too. he was my boy. i was rich once, but drink ruined me, and--oh, may god forgive me!--led indirectly to the graveyard gate, where wife and children all lie buried!" -----------------------------------------------------------------------two long months more had gone by, during which the exploring party had been busy enough almost every day at the distant hill, prospecting, excavating here and there, and searching in every likely nook for the cave of gold. but all in vain. during all the time they had now been on the island--more than six months--never a ship had been seen, nor had any boat or canoe ventured near the place. "surely, surely," they thought, "some day some ship will find us out and rescue us." one day as they were returning earlier in the afternoon than usual, for it was very hot, and they were all somewhat weary and disheartened, they went suddenly almost delirious with joy to see, on looking towards the hill-top, that the ensign was hoisted upside down on the pole, and little fitz dancing wildly round it, and pointing seaward. tired though they all were, there was no talk now of returning to the wreck. but straight to the hill they went instead. to their infinite joy, when they reached the top at last, they could see a brig, with all available sail set, standing in for the island. i say all available sail, for her fore-topmast was gone, she was cruelly punished about the bulwarks, and had evidently been blown out of her course during the gale that had raged with considerable violence a few days before. every heart beat high now with hope and joy, and as the vessel drew nearer and nearer, they shook hands with each other, and with tears in their eyes some even talked of their far-off cottage homes in england. nearer and nearer! a flag was flying at her stern, but to what country she belonged could not yet be made out. but they could now, by aid of the glass, see the hands moving about the deck, and some leaning over the bows pointing towards the island. but, "oh, cruel! cruel!" cried the poor men, and grief took the place of joy, when the vessel altered its course and went slowly away on the other tack. so great was the revulsion of feeling now that some of the crusoes threw themselves on the ground in an agony of grief and disappointment. they watched the ship sail away and away, hoping against hope that she might even yet return. they watched until the stars shone out and darkness brooded over the deep, and then a strange thing happened: a great gleam of light was seen on the distant horizon, and above it clouds of rolling smoke through which tongues and jets of flame were flashing. the brig was on fire and burning fiercely! her very masts and rigging were seen for a time, darkling through the blaze. no one thought of leaving the hill now; they would see the last of that mysterious ship. yes, and the last came within an hour. an immense fountain of fire rose high into the air, lighting the sea up in one broad crimson bar from horizon to shore--then darkness. nothing more. nor were any signs of that unfortunate brig seen next day. no boat floated towards the island, nor was a single spar ever picked up along the beach. it would be impossible to describe the feelings of the crusoes as they went slowly homeward through the jungle, guided by fitz and bob. "the lord gave, and the lord hath taken away." that was all the remark that james malone made. and the mystery of that unhappy brig none can ever unravel. to the end of time it must remain one of the awful secrets of the sea. book 3--chapter seven. strange adventures in a crystalline cave. ten months more, and not another ship was seen. it was now two years and over since the beautiful barque _sea flower_ had sailed away from southampton. not a very long time, it may be said. no; and yet it seemed a century to look back upon, so many strange events and adventures had been crowded into those four-and-twenty months, and so much sorrow and suffering too. "hope deferred maketh the heart sick." ah! the hearts of all were sad and sick enough by this time. "some day, some day a ship will come!" every one fore and aft was weary with repeating these words. they went not now so often to the foot of fire hill, as the volcano had come to be called, in search of the buried cave. a buried cave it doubtless was, covered entirely by the flow of lava from the crater, and lost, it would seem, for ever. but whole days would be spent in rambling about in search of the only kind of game the lonely island afforded, those small black pigs and the rock-rabbits, or in fishing by stream or at sea. when i say "at sea," it must not be imagined that they fished in treachery bay. no; for to have done so would doubtless have invited the attention of the savages, and they might have paid the island a visit that would have been very little relished. natives of those south pacific islands have keen eyesight. but the dinghy boat had been hauled right across the island and launched in a little bay there. a cave was found, and this formed a capital boat-house, for it rose so high behind that the tide could not reach it. the time had come when fishing was very necessary indeed, for well "found" though the _sea flower_ had been, especially with all kinds of tinned provisions and biscuits, these had been nearly all consumed, and for some months back the crusoes had depended for their support almost entirely on rod and gun. i say _almost_ advisedly; for many kinds of vegetables and roots grew wild in this lonely island, not to mention fruits, the most wholesome and delicious that any one could desire. ah, reader, do not imagine that because you have eaten bananas, or even guavas, which you have purchased in this country, that you can form a perfect idea of the flavour and lusciousness of those fruits when gathered from the trees in their native wilds. moreover, there are fruits in the woods of the pacific islands so tender that they could not be carried by sea, nor kept for even a day in the tropics; and these are the best of all. so that on misfortune island there was no danger of starvation, unless indeed the crusoes should have the misfortune to be surrounded by the savages and placed in a state of siege. it was against such an eventuality that the last of the tinned meats was so carefully reserved: and the last of the coals too, because these latter would be needed for the donkey engine, to make steam to be condensed and used as drinking water. three times a week, at least in good weather, did a little band set out for the fishing cove, and this consisted of ransey tansey himself, nelda, and little fitz, to say nothing of bob. now the cove was quite six miles away. six miles going and six coming back would have been too long a journey for nelda; but as the child liked to accompany the boys, and they were delighted to have her company, the two lads consulted together and concluded they must carry her at least half the way. this was a capital plan for nelda, and quite romantic, for the _modus portandi_ was a grass hammock suspended from a long bamboo pole, one end resting on ransey's shoulder, the other on fitz's. nelda would be talking or singing all the way. but on the return journey she got down more often, because she never went back without a basket well filled with fruit and flowers. bob used to trot on in front always. this he deemed it his duty to do. was he not a guard? on rare occasions the admiral also formed part of the expedition, but he preferred not going to sea in that wobbly boat. when invited to embark, he would simply look at babs or ransey with one wise red eye, and say, "no, thank you, dear. a sea life doesn't quite suit my constitution; and if it is all the same to you, i'll just hop about the beach here until you all return." it did not take a very long time for the children, as i may still call them, to find all the fish they could conveniently carry. then they returned to the beach, entered the cave, and cooked their dinner. they invariably started to go back two or three hours before sunset. about this cave there was a kind of mystery to the imaginative mind of little nelda, and she peopled the gloom and darkness far beyond with all sorts of strange beings. but when one day ransey tansey proposed exploring it, she evinced very much reluctance to going herself. "i'm afraid," she said; "the giants might catch me and kill me." fitz laughed, and ransey assured her that the cave was not inhabited by even a single giant. it was all imagination. "there might be snakes," she persisted, "or awful alligators." fitz laughed again, and nelda felt more assured. "you see me go, sah!" he said; "is'e not afraid. ha, ha! it take one much big giant and plenty big 'gator to flighten dis chile." he ran out of the cave now, but soon came back carrying a heap of withered grass and foliage. then he snatched up a burning brand. "now!" he cried, "dis chile done go to 'vestigate." fitz was fond of exploiting a big word, although he never succeeded in pronouncing much more than three-quarters of it. presently the brave little lad disappeared, for the darkness had swallowed him up. the cave at its other end turned to the right and then to the left, so that although fitz lit his fire it could not be seen by those left behind. ransey and nelda were becoming quite uneasy about him, when suddenly his voice was heard in the dark distance, coming nearer and nearer every moment, till he once more stood in the broad glare of day at the main entrance to the cave. "so glad you've come back, fitz," cried ransey, "for we had almost given you up; we thought the 'gators had swallowed you." nelda, too, was glad, and so was honest bob. he ran round and round him, barking. the echo of the far interior took up the sound and gave back "wowff" for "wowff," much to the dog's astonishment. he made quite sure that another dog was hiding away in the darkness somewhere, and promised himself the infinite pleasure of shaking him out of his skin some day. but the story of exploration that fitz had to tell was indeed a wonderful one. he had found an interior cave, and when he lit his fire, the sight of it, he declared to ransey, was far more beautiful than paradise. all around him, he said, was a mass of icicles, but all of crystal, and on the floor were hundreds and hundreds of great crystal candles. "i not can splain [explain] propah," he said. "too much foh one leetle niggah boy to splain, but all about me dat cave sparkle and shine wid diamonds, rubies, and rainbows." so before they got home that night they made up their minds to explore the marvellous cave in company. nothing was said to any one else about their intention; only when they set out some days after this to go to the cave as usual, ransey tansey took with him several blue, red, and white lights. he determined in his own mind that this stalactite cave should be turned into a kind of fairy palace for once in a way. he also carried a small bull's-eye lantern, so that when lights went out they should not be plunged into darkness altogether. they had been rather longer than usual in starting on this particular morning, and as the day was very beautiful, and the trees and flowers, butterflies and birds, all looking bright and gay, they must have lingered long on the road. at all events, it was quite one o'clock before they arrived at the cove, reached the cave, and launched their boat. the fish, moreover, seemed to-day anxious to be caught, and excellent sport was enjoyed. it only wanted two hours to sunset when they regained the mouth of the cave. there would be moonlight to guide them home, however, even if they should be half an hour late. yes, and it was a full moon too. mark this, reader, for with each full moon comes a spring tide! i have no words to convey to any one the glorious sight they beheld when they at last entered the stalactite cave and lit their fire of wood and grass. fitz had described it well--crystal icicles all around hanging from the vaulted roof, and raised high above the snow-white floor; walls of crystal, and strange, weird statues of a kind of marble. they sat there in silent admiration until the fire began to burn low; then ransey tansey lit up the cave, first with a dazzling white light, then with blue, and finally with crimson. and this ended the show, but it was one that nelda would dream about for weeks to come. how long they had stayed in this wondrous cave they could not tell, but, lo! to their dismay, when they reached the place where they had drawn up the boat, it was gone, and the waves were lapping up far inside. the dinghy had been floated away, and they were thus imprisoned for the night. the moon, too, had gone down, for in these seas it neither rises nor sets at the same time it does in britain. little nelda was afraid to spend the night near to the dark water. some awful beast, she said, might come out and drag her in, so back they went to the crystal cave. alas! it had lost its charm now. what a lonesome, weary time it was, and they dared not leave before daylight! the fearless boy fitz, after many, many hours had passed, went away, like a bird from the ark, to see if the waters were yet assuaged. he brought back word that the sun was rising, but that the water was still high. the truth is, they had all slept without knowing it, and during this time the tide had gone back and once more risen, or, in other words, it had ebbed and flowed. -----------------------------------------------------------------------the anxiety of tandy and the others on board the hulk may be better imagined than described when night fell and the wanderers did not return. for a time they expected them every minute, for the moon was still shining bright and clear in the west and tipping the waves with silver. tandy set out by himself at last, hoping to meet the little party. he walked for fully two miles along the track by which they most often came. again and again he shouted and listened, but no answering shout came back to his, though he could hear now and then the dreary cry of a night-bird as it flew low over the woods in the gauzy glamour that the moon was shedding over everything. but the moon itself would shortly sink, and so, uncertain what to do next, he returned, hoping against hope that the children might have reached the hulk before him. what a long, dreary night it was! no one slept much. of this i am sure, for the lost ones were friends both fore and aft. but the greatest sorrow was to come, for, lo! when next morning at daybreak they reached the cave, the first thing that caught their eyes was the dinghy--beached, but bottom uppermost. fishing gear and the oars were also picked up; but, of course, there was no sign of the children. with grief, poor tandy almost took leave of his senses, and it was indeed a pitiable sight to see him wandering aimlessly to and fro upon the coral beach, casting many a hopeless glance seawards. good, indeed, would it have been for him had tears come to his relief. but these were denied him. even the consolations that honest james malone poured into his ears were unheeded; perhaps they were hardly even heard. "death comes to all sooner or later. we do wrong to repine. ah, my dear tandy, god himself knows what is best for us, and our sorrows here will all be joys in the land where you and i must be ere long." well-meant platitudes, doubtless, but they brought no comfort to the anguished heart of the poor father. it was noticed by one of the men that the strange bird admiral, who had accompanied the search party, seemed plunged in grief himself. he walked about the beach, but ate nothing. he perched upon the keel of the upset boat, and over and over again he turned his long neck downwards, and wonderingly gazed upon the fishing gear and oars. then he disappeared. we must now return to the cave where we left our smaller heroes. ransey tansey's greatest grief was in thinking about his father. it would be quite a long time yet before the tide ebbed sufficiently to permit them to leave the cave and scramble along the beach to the top of the cove. well, there was nothing for it but to wait. but this waiting had a curious ending. they had returned to the stalactite cave, and ransey had once more lit his lamp, when suddenly, far at the other end, they heard something that made poor nelda quake with fear and cling to her brother's arm. "oh, it is a ghost!" she cried--"an old woman's ghost!" i cannot otherwise describe the sound than as a weary kind of half sigh, half moan, on a loud falsetto key. no wonder nelda thought it emanated from some old lady's ghost; though what an old lady's ghost could possibly be doing down here, it would have been difficult indeed to guess. bob took another view of the matter. he barked loudly and lustily, and rushed forward. it was no angry bark, however. next minute he came running back, and when ransey tansey turned the light on him he could see by the commotion among the long, rough hair which covered his rump that the fag-end of a tail he possessed was being violently but joyfully agitated. "come on," he seemed to say; "follow me. you will be surprised!" without fear now, the children followed the dog, and, lo! not far off, standing solemnly in a kind of crystalline pulpit, was the admiral himself. no wonder they were all astonished, or that the bird himself seemed pleased. but off the crane hopped now, the dog and the children too following, and there, not thirty yards from the place where they had been all night, was a landward opening into the cave. it was surrounded with bush, and how the admiral had found it must ever remain a mystery. ten minutes after this poor tandy was clasping his children to his breast. innocent wee babs was patting his cheek, and saying, "never mind, daddy--never mind, dear daddy." childish consolation certainly, but, oh, so sweet! no wonder his pent-up feelings were relieved by tears at last. the crane allayed _his_ feelings by dancing a _pas de joie_ on the coral sand. bob gave vent to his by rushing about and barking at everything and everybody, but especially at the boat, which he seemed to regard as the innocent cause of all the trouble. "wowff--wowff--wow! why did it run away anyhow?" that is what bob wanted to know. -----------------------------------------------------------------------but the tide had ebbed sufficiently to permit of a visit to the cave of delight, as ransey called it. james and tandy, with ransey and fitz, embarked, the others remaining on shore. both men were as much delighted and astonished at what they saw as the children themselves had been. a large quantity of withered branches and foliage had been taken in the boat, to make a fire in the crystalline cave. "but oh, father," said ransey, "you should have seen it last night when we lit it up with crimson light!" "we'll come again, lad," replied his father. they then made their way to the outer opening, and back once more to the inner, where they had left the boat. it was noticed that james malone was somewhat silent all the way back to the wreck. and so he continued during breakfast. after this he slowly arose. "brother," he said, laying his hand on halcott's shoulder, "i have something strange to tell you. come to the cliff-top, and you too, tandy, and bring your pipes." book 3--chapter eight. entombed alive. it was a very lovely day now. the sea all round towards the eastern side of the island was deep and blue; but the waters to the west were here and there more shallow, so that the ocean here was patched with splendid colouring--tints of opal, tender green, and crimson were set off by the deep dark-brown of a rocky bottom, whereon masses of sea-weed waved with the ebb or the flow of the tide. there was not a breath of wind to-day, not a whisper in the woodlands; scarce a sound was to be heard, save the drowsy hum of the waves as they broke far below on the beach of snow-white sand, or the occasional screaming of the sea-birds sailing round and round the beetling crags where their nests were. in very joy they seemed to scream to-day. happy birds! there was no one to molest them on this far-off beautiful isle of the ocean. no gun was ever levelled at them, not a pebble ever thrown even by fitz; and so tame were they that they often ran about the cliff-top, or even alighted on the ship itself. but slowly indeed to-day does james malone walk towards the cliff. out through the inner, out through the great outer gate; for he will not feel comfortable until he is clear of the encampment, and seated near to the very brink of that great wall of rocks. "gentlemen," he said, when at last he had filled and lit his pipe with all the coolness of a north american indian--"gentlemen, hitherto all our efforts to find the gold mine have been in vain, but mere chance has revealed to us the secret that has been hidden from us so long--" "james," said tandy, excitedly, "you don't mean to say--" "but," interrupted james, "i do mean to say it, tandy. halcott there knows that i seldom make an assertion till i have well-considered the matter on all sides." "you never do, brother." "that cave, gentlemen, which in so strange a way the children have found, is a gold mine--_the_ gold mine! "the land entrance i can now remember, although it is somewhat changed. show me the map of the island, brother." halcott spread it out before him. he pointed out fire hill, then drew his finger along until it rested on the spot where the cave was. "the fault has been all mine, gentlemen; i alone led you astray, for appearances deceived me. but it is not yet too late. "and so you see, tandy, that, after all, providence has changed our mourning into joy. i do not now despair of anything. god moves in a mysterious way, brothers, and you may rest assured we shall yet return in peace to enjoy the fruits of our labours in the land of our birth." halcott was silent; so too was tandy for a time. need i tell you what they were thinking about? if they could but return with enough gold to give them an independence, how pleasant would be their prospects for the future! well, this world is not all sorrow, and it is only right we should enjoy it. i think i can honestly go further, reader, and say it is a sin not to make the best of the beautiful world we live in, a sin to look always at the darkest side when clouds surround us. let us not believe in the pessimism of burns when he wrote his dirge "man was made to mourn," a verse or two of which run as follows:- "look not alone on youthful prime, or manhood's active might; man then is useful to his kind, supported is his right: but see him on the edge of life, with cares and sorrows worn; then age and want--oh! ill-matched pair!- show man was made to mourn. "a few seem favourites of fate, in pleasure's lap carest; yet think not all the rich and great are likewise truly blest. but, oh! what crowds in every land are wretched and forlorn! through weary life this lesson learn- that man was made to mourn." tandy had risen to his feet, and was looking somewhat anxiously towards observatory hill. the seaman who took day and day about with fitz in watching was at this moment signalling. "he wants us to come up," said tandy. "who knows," said james, with far more cheerfulness in his voice than usual--"who knows but that our deliverance is already at hand? the man may have seen a ship!" halcott and tandy, about an hour after this, stood beside the man on the brow of the hill, with their glasses turned towards the far-off island. they could see the beach with far greater clearness than usual to-day. it was crowded with savages running to and fro, into the bush and out of it, in a state apparently of great excitement. at this distance they resembled nothing more than a hive of bees about to swarm. independent of innumerable dug-outs drawn up here and there were no less than five huge war-canoes. tandy turned away with a slight sigh. "just as the cup of joy," he said, "was being held to our lips, ill-fortune seems to have snatched it away." "heigho!" sighed halcott, "how i envy honest james for the hopefulness that he never appears to lose, even in the very darkest hours, the hours of what we should call despair. "but look," he continued, pointing towards fire hill. "not a cloud to be seen!" "the volcano is dead!" said tandy, with knitted brows; "and now, indeed, we shall have to fight." halcott took tandy's hand, while he looked calmly into his face. "my friend," he said, "we have come through many and many a danger side by side, and here we are alive and well to tell it. if fighting it must be with these savages, neither you nor i shall be afraid to face them. but we may succeed in making peace." "ah, halcott, i fear their friendship even more than their enmity. but for my dear boy and my little girl, i should care for neither." and now all haste back to the camp was made. all hands were summoned, and the case laid plainly before them. the story of the cave was told to them also, and it did halcott's heart good to hear the ringing cheer with which their words were received. the next thing halcott ordered was a survey of stores. alas! this did not take long; and afterwards the defences were most carefully inspected. on the whole, the outlook was a hopeful one, even if the savages did come in force and place the strange little encampment in a state of siege. their provisions and even their ammunition would last for three weeks at least. and--and then? ah! no one thought of an answer to that question. they meant to do their best, and trust in providence for everything else. but the expected arrival of these warlike natives was not going to prevent them from finding gold, if gold there were in the medicine-man's cave, as it was now named. so early next morning the discovery party had reached the landward opening. they were provided with lamps to light and hang, with tools, and with provisions for the day. at the mouth of the cave fitz was stationed with glass in hand, to watch for a signal to be given from observatory hill, in case the boats should start from the distant island. the lamps were lit at the entrance to the cave, which was gloomy enough in all conscience. "surely," cried tom wilson, when they reached the interior and saw the great stalactites, the candles and icicles of glass, and the walls all shining with "rubies and rainbows,"--"surely this is the cave of aladdin. ah, it is diamonds as well as gold we ought to be able to collect here, maties!" and now hours were spent in a fruitless search for the mine. even the floor of the seaward cave was dug up and its walls tapped, but all in vain. it was not until they were preparing to leave, that, chancing to hear bob whining and scraping not ten yards from the outer entrance, halcott turned his attention in that direction. a ghastly sight met their gaze! for here lay a pile of human bones half covered with dust, and half buried in the debris that had fallen from the roof. and near this awful heap, but above it, was a hole about five feet high, and wide enough to admit two men at a time. the excitement now was intense, but for a time all stood spell-bound with horror. "here," said james, slowly, "is the spot where that fiend, the medicine-man, murdered the boys as an offering to the great fire-fiend. now we shall find the gold. come, follow me, men!" he took a lamp from tom wilson's hand as he spoke, and boldly entered the cave. it was far from an inviting place where they now stood. what did that signify to those determined gold-seekers? for hardly had they dug two feet down ere they were rewarded by finding one large, rough nugget of pure gold and several small ones. they forgot all about the savages now, and nothing could exceed the eagerness with which the men laboured. but fatigue, at last, overcame them, and they were obliged to retire, carrying with them more of the precious ore than many an australian digger has found during a whole lifetime. it was very dark as they made their way through the bush; but fitz was an excellent guide, so they got back in time for supper. a very happy evening this was, fore and aft, and tom wilson seemed the gayest of the gay. the poor fellow had sinned and fallen, it is true, but surely god had already forgiven him. tom believed so, and it was this belief, he told james more than once, that made him forget his sorrow. "i'll meet my wife and children on the other shore," he said once, with a sad smile, "and they'll forgive me too." in a week's time the gold fever was at its height. and no wonder, for in whatever direction they dug nuggets were found in this marvellous cave. the fortune of every man there was made. but would the gold be of any use to them? -----------------------------------------------------------------------one day, about a fortnight after the wonderful discovery, something very startling occurred. almost every hour while digging they had heard strange sounds, like the rumbling of heavy artillery along a rough road, with now and then a loud but muffled report, as of a great gun fired in the distance. no wonder james had remarked that the heathen minds of the savages believed that a great fire-fiend dwelt deep down here, and must be propitiated with human sacrifice. but on this particular day, after a terrible report, the earth shook and quivered, great masses of soil fell crashing down here and there, and the lamps were all extinguished. the noise died away like the muttering of a thunderstorm in the far distance. "keep quiet and cool, men; we are all right. we can relight the lamps." it was halcott who spoke. yes, and so they quickly did; but judge of their horror when, on making their way to what had been the entrance to the cave, they found no exit there! then the terrible truth revealed itself to them--they were entombed alive! at first the horror of the situation rendered them speechless. was it the heat of internal fires, or was it terror--i know not which-that made the perspiration stand in great beads on their now pale faces? "what is to be done?" cried one of the men. "never despair, lad!"--and halcott's manly voice was heard once more--"never despair!" his voice sounded hollow, however--hollow, and far away. book 3--chapter nine. "on swept the war-canoes towards the coral beach." "it was just here, was it not," said halcott, "where the entrance was? keep up your hearts, boys, we shall soon dig ourselves clear." cheered by his voice, every one set himself bravely to the task before him. but a whole hour went by, and they were now nearly exhausted. one or more had thrown themselves on the ground panting. the heat increased every minute, and the atmosphere became stifling. the thirst, too, was almost unendurable. even james himself was yielding at last to despair, and already the lights were burning more dimly. but hark! the sound of the dog barking. his voice seemed ever so far away, but every heart was cheered by it. again, lads, again! up with your spades; one more effort. the men sprang up from the floor of the cave and went to work now with a will. nearer and nearer the dog's anxious barking sounded every minute. at last, with a joyous cry, bob burst through, and with him came a welcome rush of pure air. they were saved! is it any wonder that when they found themselves once more out in the jungle, with flowers and foliage all around them and the breath of heaven fanning their faces, james malone proposed a prayer of thankfulness? they rose from their knees at last. "we have been taught a lesson," said this honest fellow; "our ambition was far too overweening. our lust for gold all but found us a grave." -----------------------------------------------------------------------they had arrived early at camp, so tandy and halcott determined to make another visit to observatory hill, for the man had once more signalled. extra activity was apparent among the savages in the northern island. it was evident enough now that they would not long delay their coming. the sun set, and soon afterwards darkness fell, but still the man lingered on the hill-top. and now they could see a great fire spring up, just a little way from the water's edge, and soon the savages were observed dancing wildly around it in three or four great circles. it was evident that some horrible orgie was taking place, and they might easily presume that the medicine-man was busy enough, and that a human sacrifice was being offered up to appease the fiends of war, in which those benighted beings so firmly believed. next day, and just after breakfast, on looking towards the hill-top, behold the red british ensign afloat on the flag-pole! shortly after this the signalman himself ran in. "they are coming!" he cried; "they are coming!" "and their strength?" asked halcott calmly. "five great war-canoes, and each one of them contains at least thirty armed warriors." "and there may be more to follow. humph! well, we shall have to reckon with between two and three hundred at least. what about making overtures of peace to them, brother james?" now brother james, as has already been said, was a very practical kind of a christian. "well," he said, slowly and thoughtfully, "i think, charlie halcott, that in this case our duty lies straight and clear before us, and we've got to go for it. we shall just be content to make war first, and leave the peace to follow." every man heard him, and the hearty british cheer they gave was re-echoed even from the hill itself. it was agreed by all, however, that to fight these savages in the open would be but to court death and destruction to all hands. other tactics must be adopted. the enemy would no doubt land on the beach, and so the big gun was dragged towards the cliff-top. here they would make their first stand, and, if possible, sink some of the war-canoes before they had a chance to land. in savage warfare cover is considered of very great importance. it was determined, therefore, to deprive the invaders of this at any cost, so heaps of withered branches and foliage were collected and placed here and there all around the bay and close to the edge of the wood; and not only there, but on the table-land itself, between the encampment and observatory hill. one of the most active young men was told off to fire those heaps, beginning at the farther side of the bay. his signal to do so would be a rifle, not the gun, fired from the top of the cliff. in less than three hours' time the great war-canoes were quite in view, slowly approaching the land. they were still ten miles away, however, and it was evident to every one that they meant to time themselves so as to land on the beach at treachery bay about an hour after sunset. another hour went slowly by. through the glasses now a good view could be had of the cannibal warriors. one and all were painted in a manner that was as hideous as it was grotesque. in the first boat, standing erect in the bows, with a huge spear in his hand, the head of which was evidently of gold, for it glittered yellow in the sun's rays, was a stalwart savage, whom james malone at once pronounced to be the king. beside him squatted two deformed and horrible-looking savages, and they also were far too well-known to james. they were the king's chief medicine-men. at the bow of each war-canoe, stuck on a pole, was a ghastly human head, no doubt those of prisoners taken in battles fought with tribes living on other islands. there was no doubt, therefore, that their intentions in visiting the crusoes were evil and not good, and that james malone's advice to fight first and make peace afterwards was wise, and the only one to be pursued. at sunset they were within two miles of the land, and lying-to, ready to make a dash as soon as darkness fell. the gun belonging to the _sea flower_ was a small breechloader of good pattern, and could carry a shell quite as far as the boats. it was trained upon them, and great was the terror of the king when in the air, right above his head, the shell burst with a terrible roar. they put about and rowed further off at once. and now, after a short twilight, the night descended quickly over land and sea. it was very still and starry, and in a very short time the thumping and noise of the oars told those on watch that the boats were rapidly approaching. and now the rifle was fired. sackbut, the young sailor, had been provided with a can of petroleum and matches, and hardly had the sound of the rifle ceased to reverberate from the rocks ere those on the cliff saw the first fire lighted. running from heap to heap he quickly set fire to them one by one. up on to the table-land he came next, and so in less than twenty minutes the whole of this part of the island presented a barrier of rolling fire towards the sea. the fire lit up the whole bay until it was as bright almost as if the sun were shining on it. but the savages were not to be deterred or denied, and so on swept the great war-canoes towards the coral beach. yet, although they succeeded at last in effecting a landing, they had paid dear for their daring. seven rifles played incessantly on them, and the howls and yells that rose every now and then on the night air told that the firing was not in vain. only a few shots were fired from the gun, there being no time, but a shell crashed into the very midst of one of the war-canoes, and the destruction must have been terrible. she sank at once, and probably not more than ten out of the thirty succeeded in swimming ashore. the sharks had scented the battle from afar, and were soon on the field enjoying a horrid feast. with that bursting shell the war might be said to have commenced in earnest, and it was to be a war _a outrance_, knife to knife, and to the death. the yelling of the savages now, and their frantic gestures as they rushed in mass to the shelter of the rocks, mingling with the crackling and roaring of the flames and the frightened screams of myriads of sea-gulls, was fearful--a noise and din that it would be difficult indeed to describe. all haste was now made to get the gun inside the first line of defence, load it with canister, and place it where it would be most handy. and nothing more could be done now until the savages should once more put in an appearance. so tandy hurried on board, a sadly anxious man indeed. his anxiety was, of course, centred in his little daughter. janeira was the first to meet him. "miss nelda?" he said quickly; "where is she, and how is she, jane?" "oh," replied jane, "she cry plenty at fuss, sah, cry and dance, but now she done go to bed, sah; come, sah, come." and down below she ran. poor nelda! there she lay in her bunk, pale and frightened-looking. no tears now though; only smiles and caresses for her father. she had one arm round bob, who was stretched out beside the child, as if to guard her from threatened danger. but strange and earnest were the questions she had to ask. were the savages all killed, and shot, and drowned? would they come back again? would ransey, and bob, and the 'rallie, and poor daddie be killed and roasted if the awful men came with their spears and knives, and their bows and arrows? tandy did all he could to assure her, and if in doing so he had to equivocate a little, surely he would be forgiven. as they were still talking, in at the door stalked the admiral himself. he looked more solemn than any one had ever seen him before. poor fellow! he too had received a terrible fright, and i suppose he felt that he would never, never care to dance again. the child called to him, and he came to the bunk-side at once, and lowering his long, beautiful neck, laid his beak across her neck. this was 'rallie's way of showing affection. then he went slowly and sadly away to the other end of the cabin, and "trussed" himself in a corner. tandy stopped for two whole hours with nelda. she promised to be very good, and not to cry, even if the bad men did come back again. then she fell soundly asleep, holding her father's finger. he kissed her now and quietly left the cabin, and janeira herself slipped in and took the camp-stool tandy had just vacated. the fire was by this time a long distance away, only the trees that had not been destroyed stood at one moment like black spectres in the starlight, but like rugged pillars of crimson and gold when a puff of wind swept through the woods. waiting and watching! ah, what a weary thing it is! hours and hours passed by, and if the men of this little garrison slept at all, it was on the bare ground, and with only their elbows for pillows. but not until far on in the morning watch did the enemy show signs of activity, or give a single token of their presence. the fire was now too far back for the crackling of the flames to be heard, though its red glare and the cloud of rolling smoke that obscured the sky told that it was still blazing fiercely. the sea-birds had gone to rest once more in the rocks, and everything around the encampment was as silent as the grave. a dread silence--a stillness like that which precedes the outbreaking of some fearful storm! and all too soon the storm burst. book 3--chapter ten. "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth." with a yell that once more scared the sea-birds, and sent them screaming in terror across the waves, a yell that seemed to awaken the echoes in every rock and hill from end to end of the island, the savages sprang to their feet, and rushing towards the palisade, made their first fearful onset. not twenty yards away were they when they had given voice. so quickly, too, did they rush across the intervening ground, that scarce was there time to fire a rifle volley, far less to train the gun upon the spear-armed mass, before it was close alongside and had surrounded the stockade. in their hundreds, these fearsome savages attempted to scale it; but their bodies were frightfully torn with the spikes, and cries of pain now mingled with those of anger. the defenders ran from one part of the stockade to another, firing from the loopholes; and so densely massed together was the foe that every bullet must have found a billet. in spite of all this, several managed to get over, but were immediately shot down with revolvers, or cut down with sword or cutlass. small though the loopholes were, spears were several times thrust through, and as each of them was poisoned, a single scratch would have resulted in the agonised death of the receiver. dark enough it was, and with nothing now but the stars to direct their aim, yet the little band fought well and determinedly, and at last the foe retired, leaving scores of their dead behind--drew off, dragging the wounded away. at that black mass, just as it was nearing the woods, and while the rifles still played upon it, the breechloader, grape-loaded, was trained and fired. so close together were the natives that the carnage must have been terrible. but twice again ere morning they attacked the fort, receiving the same treatment, and being obliged at last to withdraw. when morning broke, the defenders were completely wearied out, and so the little garrison, after two sentries were set, lay down to snatch a few hours' much needed rest. there was no fear of the attack being renewed before sunset, for darkness seemed best to suit the tactics of these sable warriors. in the afternoon of this first day of siege a sally was made from the great gate, and seven men stood ready with their rifles, while four began to remove the dead. each was dragged to the edge of the cliff and thrown over into the sea. when all were cleared away the gate was once more shut and barred. but though the burial must have been witnessed, no rush was made by the savages to attack them. the afternoon was spent in taking pot-shots at every figure that could be seen in the burned bush. the next attack was made at midnight, and in a manner quite as determined as the first. one of the _sea flower's_ men was killed by a spear. it had been thrust with tremendous force through a loophole, and pierced the poor fellow's brain. tandy himself had a narrow escape. he was about to fire, but, stumbling, fell, and next moment a poisoned arrow whizzed past and over him. there was surely a providence in this, for only fools believe in blind chance. with the exception of the death of poor ross, who was an able seaman, there was no other casualty that night. the savages withdrew, but when, next day, the men of the _sea flower_ sallied forth to remove the enemy's dead, which they succeeded in doing, it was noticed that many of the spike-nails had, during the fight, been removed. these, however, were easily replaced by others, and many more were added. there was no attack this evening. the savages had determined to endeavour once more to propitiate their "fiend of war," and an immense fire could be seen burning at midnight in the centre of their camp, not more than half a mile from the stockade. the big gun was trained upon this, and a shell planted right in the centre of the dusky mob seemed to work great destruction, and quickly put an end to the orgie. -----------------------------------------------------------------------the terrible siege was kept up for three whole weeks, and, harassed beyond measure with the constant night attacks, affairs were becoming very desperate indeed, and the little garrison was already almost worn out. day after day it was becoming more apparent to all that utter annihilation was merely a question of time. a council of war was held now, at which every man was present, and various proposals were made, but few indeed were feasible. the number of the defenders was so small, compared to the hundreds of armed savages opposed to them, that a "sally in force," as tom wilson who proposed this called it, was out of the question. to attempt to make peace would only be to give themselves away. the savage king would be ready enough to promise anything, but in a few weeks afterwards not one of the poor crusoes would be left alive. should they get the largest boat ready, provision her, and put to sea? surely the ocean itself would be less cruel at its very wildest than those bloodthirsty savages. the question had been put by tandy himself. he was hoping against hope; he was like a drowning man clutching at straws. for himself he had no thought. he was brave almost to a fault, and, like any other brave man, was willing to die, sword in hand, fighting the foe. "and where can man die better, than in facing fearful odds?" but his children, especially innocent wee nelda--ah! that was what softened that heart of his. "my dear tandy," said halcott, "the idea of being once more away out on yonder beautiful and peaceful ocean, even if only in an open boat, is one that commends itself to us all, but, alas, it would in this case be but a choice of death. even if we should succeed in eluding the savages and escaping, which i believe would be almost impossible, we could never reach the mainland." so the council ended, and the little garrison remained precisely as before. it was evident to all, however, that the end could not be far distant, for not only provisions, but ammunition itself, would soon give out. all hands saving nelda were therefore put on short allowance. coals were carefully saved, no more being used than was necessary to make steam to be condensed and used as drinking water; and not an unnecessary shot was to be fired. but now there came a lull which lasted for three whole days and nights. two things were evident enough: first, that the enemy were making some change in their mode of warfare; secondly, that the final struggle would soon take place--and indeed, as regards that, many of the men within the little encampment would have preferred to rush forth, cutlass in hand, and finish the fighting at once. most of the country was devastated by the fire that had been kindled, with the exception of a patch away south and east at the foot of observatory hill, on which the proud ensign was still floating, as if to give the besieged some hope and comfort. but one day this patch of jungle, like the famous birnam wood, seemed to be slowly advancing towards the camp. tandy was gazing at it, and looking somewhat puzzled, when halcott came up. "that is more of their fiendish tactics," he said; "and the scheme, i fear, will be only too successful. you see," he added, "they are piling up heaps of branches; these will defy our rifle bullets, and unfortunately we have no shells left to fire them. gradually these heaps will be advanced, and under cover of them they will make their next and, i fear, final attack, and it will be made by day." halcott was right, and in a few days' time the savages were within a hundred yards of the palisade. they no doubt meant to advance as near to it as possible during the hours of darkness, and with might and main attack at sunrise. it was midnight when the movement on the part of the besiegers began, and the cover was then slowly advanced. a gentle breeze had begun to blow away from the camp, and the night was moonless and dark. presently a hand was laid on halcott's shoulder. he had been lying near the outer stockade quietly talking with james; while tandy was in the ship's state-room keeping his little girl company. the poor child was sadly uneasy to-night, and the father was trying his best to comfort her. "what! you here, lord fitzmantle?" said halcott. "i'se heah, sah." it was probably well he said so, for excepting his flashing teeth and rolling eyes, there wasn't much else of him to be seen. "and you're pretty nearly naked, aren't you?" "i'se neahly altogedder naked, sah. i'se got noddings much on, sah, but my skin. i go on one 'spedition [expedition] all same's dabid of old go out to meet de giant goliah. dabid hab sling and stone though; fitz hab no sling, on'y one box ob matches. you open dat gate, sah, and i go crawl, crawl, all same's one snake, and soon makee one big fire to wahm de hides ob dose black niggahs." "brave and generous little fellow!" cried halcott, shaking the boy's hand. "but i fear to risk your life." "you no feah foh me, sah, all i do. i jes' done gone do foh de sake ob dat pooh deah chile babs. "good-night, ge'men. you soon see big fire, and you heah de niggahs fizz. suppose dey killee me, dey no can kill de soul. dis chile findee his way to hebben all the same, plenty quick." they let the little lad out. whether the acute ears of the savages had heard the bolts drawn or not will never be known. certain it is, however, that fitz was discovered and wounded. but wounded as he was, he had the determination to light the pile. the savages threw themselves at it, and tore at the burning branches, but this only helped to scatter the flames about. fitz crawled back, just in time to die inside the stockade. "i go to hebben now," he said faintly to james, who was kneeling beside him holding his hand. "i'se dun my duty i fink--heah below. i see my pooh old mudder to-night--she--she--" he said no more, and never spoke again. the noble little fellow had indeed done his duty, and doubtless would receive his reward. james malone was like a wild man now. "brother halcott," he cried, "summon all hands to arras, and let us sally forth and give these fiends a lesson. they have done to death this noble little fellow. come, halcott, come. an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth!" he waved his sword aloft as he spoke. so sudden and determined was the sally now made by ten resolute men that, taken thus unexpectedly, the savages became at once unmanned and demoralised. the men of the _sea flower_ advanced in a semicircle, and well spread out. after the first volley, the blacks threw a few spears wildly into the darkness, for the terrible conflagration blinded their eyes; but, huddled together as they were, they made an excellent target for the riflemen. volley after volley was poured into their midst with terrible effect, increasing their confusion every minute. "lay aft here now, lads!" shouted james. "down with your guns! charge with cutlass and revolver. hurrah!" high above the demoniacal shrieks of the savages and the roaring of the flames rose that wild british cheer. next moment the revolvers poured upon the foe a rain of death. again a cheer. sword and cutlass flashed in the firelight. right and left, left and right, the men struck out, and blood flowed like water. towering above all was james himself, with flashing eyes and red-stained blade, his long hair streaming behind in the breeze that fanned the flames. short but fearful was that onslaught. in the eyes of the terror-stricken savages every man must have seemed a multitude. and no wonder. it was death or victory for the poor crusoes; and never before did soldier on battlefield, or sailor on slippery battle-deck, fight with greater fury than they did now. but, lo! james has seen the king himself, with his golden-headed spear, which he tries in vain to poise, so crushed and crowded is he in the midst of his mob of warriors. "it is i," shouts james, in the native tongue, "i, whose blood you would have drunk. drink it now if you dare!" nothing can withstand him, and soon he has fought his way towards the chief, and next moment the savage throws up his arms and falls dead where he stands. as if moved now but by a single thought, the enemy, with a howl of terror, go rushing away and disappear in the darkness. the victors are left alone with the dead! but, alas! the victory has cost them more than one precious life. here, stark and stiff, lies the brave young fellow sackbut, who had fired the bush on the first landing of the savages. and not far off poor tom wilson himself. at first they can hardly believe that tom is dead. he is raised partly on his elbow, and his eyes are fixed on a portrait he has taken from his bosom. tandy, who found him, had seen that picture before. it was that of his wife. ah, well, he had sinned, he had suffered, but his sorrows were all past now. another man is wounded--honest chips himself. is this all? ah, no, for james himself, as he turns to leave the scene of carnage, leans suddenly on his sword, his face looks ghastly pale in the firelight, and halcott springs forward only in time to prevent him from falling. book 3--chapter eleven. death of james. the morning of the victory was a sad enough one in the camp of the crusoes. the enemy was routed, the king was slain. for a time, at least, there would be a cessation of strife. for how long no one troubled himself to consider; sorrow seemed everywhere, on board and in the camp around. poor james lay on a mattress on deck. perhaps he was the only man that smiled or seemed happy. _he_ knew, and halcott knew too, that he could not last for many days, so grievously was he wounded. halcott, i need not say, was constant in his attendance on him, and so too was little nelda. the girl would sit for hours beside him, sometimes reading childish stories to him, which she felt certain, in her own mind, would help to make him better. or she would gently pat his weather-beaten face, saying, as she did so, "poor uncle james! poor dear uncle! never mind! never mind!" the dead were tenderly wrapped in hammocks which were heavily loaded. theirs would be a sailor's grave. halcott himself read the beautiful words of the english church service, the few that were now left of the brave crew of the _sea flower_ kneeling bareheaded beside the bodies of their late comrades; more than one was weeping. "we commit their bodies to the deep, and their souls to him who gave them." their shipmates just patted the hammocks, before they let them slide, in a way that was very pathetic; then down, one by one, over the cliff they dropped- "to lie where pearls lie deep." -----------------------------------------------------------------------when halcott returned one day from the cliff-top, some time after this sad funeral, there was a shade of greater uneasiness than usual on his face. james was quick to note it. "they are coming again?" he said quietly. "you have guessed aright," said halcott. "and they are using the same tactics--coming up under cover of brushwood. there is no fitz now to fire the heap, and our strength is terribly reduced." "be of good cheer, halcott--be of good cheer; it is god himself who giveth the victory. but death cometh sooner or later to all." "amen!" said halcott; "and oh, james, i for one am almost tired of life." "say not so, brother, say not so, 'tis sinful." how terrible is war, reader! the accounts that we read of this scourge, in papers or in books, seldom show it up in its true colours. we are told only of its glory--its tinsel show of glory. but that glory is but the gilded shell that hides the hideous kernel, consisting of sorrow, misery, murder, and rapine. i am not poor tandy's judge, and shall not pretend to say whether the resolve he now made was right or wrong. just under the saloon was the magazine, and when the worst should come to the worst, and the savage foe burst through the outer barrier with yells and howls of victory, his child, he determined, should not be torn from his grasp, to suffer cruelty unspeakable at the hands of the foe. _he would fire the magazine_! "my friends," said halcott, a morning or two after this, as he stood talking to his garrison of five, "the enemy is advancing in even greater force than on any previous occasion. i have but little more to say to you. let us bid each other `good-bye' just before the fight begins, and die with our swords in our hands- "`like true-born british sailors.'" -----------------------------------------------------------------------the time came at last--and the enemy too. it was one of the brightest days the crusoes had ever witnessed on this isle of misfortune. even from the cliff-top, or over the barricade, the distant islands could be seen, like emeralds afloat between sea and sky. the volcanic mountain--so clear was the air--appeared almost within gunshot of the camp. for hours and hours there had not been a sound heard anywhere. the monster pile of brushwood, behind which those dusky, fiendish warriors hid, had been advanced to within seventy yards of the palisade, but all was silence there. even the sea-birds had ceased their screaming. all nature was ominously hushed; the bare and blackened country around the camp lay sweltering in the noon-day heat; and the ensign on observatory hill had drooped, till it appeared only as a thin, red line against the upper end of the pole. no one spoke save in a whisper. but with a little more excitement than usual, halcott advanced to the place where tandy stood, rifle in hand, his pistols in his belt, waiting like the others for the inevitable. halcott did not even speak. he simply took his friend by the arm and pointed westward. a cloud lay like a dark pall on the very summit of fire hill. tandy knew the meaning of it. he only shook his head, however. "too late, i fear!" that was all he said. but hardly had the last word been spoken, before a stranger thing than that cloud on the mountain attracted attention. a huge, smooth, house-high billow was seen gradually approaching the bay from seaward. it gathered strength, and speed too, as it came onwards, and finally it broke on the beach in one long line of curling foam, and with a sound as loud as distant thunder. wave after wave succeeded it, though they were neither so high nor so swift; then silence once more prevailed, and the sea was as quiet and still as before. not for long though. for a few minutes' time every man's senses seemed to reel, and a giddy, sickly feeling passed through the brain, such as only those who have visited countries like japan or south america have ever experienced. it was the first shock of an earthquake! peal after peal of strange subterranean thunder accompanied it, and a kind of hot wave spread suddenly over the island, like a breeze blowing over a burning prairie. the effect of these manifestations on the enemy was marvellous. for a few moments they were dumb and silent with terror; then yells of fear arose, and they fled indiscriminately away towards the sea beach, throwing away bows, arrows, and spears, and even their scanty articles of apparel, in their headlong, hurried flight. "the fire-fiend! he comes! he comes!" that was their cry now, and their only cry. in a marvellously short time they were seen swarming on the beach, and in all haste dragging down and launching their great war-canoes; and in less than twenty minutes' time they were, to the immense relief of the little garrison, afloat on the now heaving bosom of the deep. when halcott ran on board the hulk, i do not think he knew quite what he was doing or saying. he seemed beside himself with joy. "oh, live, brother james! live! do not die and leave us now that our safety is assured. the savages have fled, they will never return. live, brother, live?" "oh, live, poor uncle! live!" cried nelda; "live for _my_ sake, dear uncle!" tandy was the next to rush on board, and his first act was to catch his little daughter up, cover her face with kisses, and press her to his breast. "and now, halcott," he cried at last, "there is just one more shot in the big gun. come, let us drag her to the cliff. if i can sink but a single boat, i shall be satisfied." but the dying man lifted his hand, and halcott and tandy both drew near. "no, brothers, no," he murmured. "fire not the gun--the battle is the lord's. he alone--hath given us the victory." and the men knelt there, with bent heads, as if ashamed of the deed they had been about to commit. ah! but the tears were flowing fast from their eyes. poor james was dead! book 3--chapter twelve. leaves from first mate tandy's log. like all the other dead, poor james malone received the honours of a sailor's burial on the very next day. but, unlike the rest, he was not slipped over the cliff. on the contrary, halcott determined he should rest far out in the blue, lone sea, where nothing might disturb his rest until "the crack of doom." the last words were those of halcott himself. so the lightest boat was dragged all the way to the beach, and there, with the body sewn up in a hammock and covered with a red flag, it was launched. there had been no return of the earthquake, but all the previous night flames and smoke had issued from fire hill, and no one doubted that an eruption on a vast scale was imminent. there was, however, no danger in leaving little nelda and her brother alone in the hulk with janeira and chips--who was already able to walk--for the savages were far away, indeed, by this time. so tandy accompanied halcott, and with them went the others--only five in all. not a word was spoken until the boat was beyond the bay and in very deep water. "way enough!" cried halcott. "in oars!" all sat there with bent, uncovered heads while the captain read the service; but his voice was choked with emotion, and when the shotted hammock took the water with a melancholy boom and disappeared, he closed the book. he could say no more for a time. as a rule seafarers are not orators, though what they do say is generally to the point. halcott sat for fully a minute like one in a trance, gazing silently and reverently at the spot where the body had disappeared. the bubbles had soon ceased to rise, and there was nothing now to mark the sailor's cemetery. though- "he was the loved of all, yet none on his low grave might weep." "my friends," said halcott, "there in peace rests the body of my dearest friend, my adopted brother. i never had a brother save him. how much i loved him none can ever know. the world and the ship will be a deal more lonesome to me now that james has gone. for many and many a long year we sailed the seas together, and weathered many a gale and storm. sound, sound may he sleep, while wind and waves shall sing his dirge. unselfish was he to the end, and every inch a sailor. his last word was `victory;' and well may we now add, `o death, where is thy sting? o grave, where is thy victory?' "out oars, men! give way with a will!" -----------------------------------------------------------------------they reached the shore in safety, and drew up the boat high and dry. but none too soon; for, before they got on board once more, a terrible thunderstorm had come on, with lightning more vivid than any one on the hulk ever remembered. i have tandy's log before me as i write, and i do not think i can do better than make a few extracts therefrom. "_the lost barque, sea flower_.--on the rocks, in treachery bay, isle of misfortune, latitude --, longitude --, august 5, 18--. buried poor james malone to-day. halcott terribly cut up. doesn't seem to be the same man. but we all miss james; he was so gentle, so kind, and true. we miss fitz also. his merry ways and laughing face made him a favourite with us all. and honest tom wilson; we shall never again hear his sweet music. thank heaven that, though the thunder is now rolling, the lightning flashing, and a rain that looks like mud falling, i have my darlings both beside me! in the darkest hours i have ever spent in life, i've always had something to comfort me. yes, god is good. "the sun is setting. i never saw a sun look so lurid and red before. the thunder continues, but the rain has ceased. there are frequent smart shocks of earthquake. "_august 8_.--two awful days and nights have passed, and still we are all alive. the days have been days of darkness; the ashes and scoriae have been falling constantly, and now lie an inch at least in depth upon our deck. nights lit up by the flames that spout cloud-high from the volcano, carrying with them rocks and stones and steam. there is a terribly mephitic vapour over everything. how long this may last heaven alone can tell." "_august 12_.--four more fearful days. the eruption continues with unabated horror--the thunderings, the lightnings, the showers of stones and ashes, and the rolling clouds of dust through which, even at midday, the sun glares like a ball of crimson fire. "poor chips is dead; we buried him yesterday. more of us are ill. halcott himself is depressed, and my wee nelda cares for nothing save lying languidly on the sofa all day long. the thought that she may die haunts me night and day." "_august 13_.--almost at the last of our provisions. the biscuit is finished; the very dust has been scraped up and eaten. not more than a score of tins of _soupe en bouille_ left in the ship, and about one gallon of rum. served out to-day what remained of the salmon, and gave double allowance of rum to-night. "not a green thing seems to be left on the island." "_august 15_.--feel languid and weary. went to prayers to-day. all our hopes must now centre in the life to come; we have none for this." "_august 18_.--the strange crane lies trussed in a corner of the saloon. we force him to eat a little, and bob sits near him and licks his face. "to-day bob went off by himself. he was away for hours, and we thought we should never see him again; but in the afternoon he returned, driving before him five little black pigs. thin and miserable are they, but a godsend nevertheless. "lava pouring down the hill-side all night long, shimmering green, red, and orange through the sulphurous haze." "_august 20_.--men more cheerful to-day. the clouds have cleared away, and we can see the sea, and the sun is less red. "halcott and i climbed observatory hill. what a scene! the once beautiful island is burnt as it were to a cinder. trees are scorched; all, all is dead. we could not bear to look at it. but we cut down the flag-pole, and brought away the ensign. they are useless now. "who will be the next to die? `o father,' i cry in my agony, `spare my life while my little one lives, that i may minister to her till the last! then take my boy and me!'" "_august 22_.--four bells in the middle-watch. i awoke an hour ago with a start. halcott, too, had rushed into the saloon. "`did you hear it?' he cried wildly. "yes, i had heard. "the unusual sound awoke us all--the sound of a ship blowing off steam in the bay yonder, far beneath us. the sound of anchor chains rattling out, the sound of voices--the voices of brave british sailors! "`halcott! halcott!' i cried; `we are saved!' "i'm sure i have been weeping. nelda is on my knee at this moment while i write, her cheek pressed close to mine. oh, how good god has been to me! we have fired off guns, and raised our voices in a feeble cheer, and the people have replied. "it is no dream then. "surely i am not mad! "oh, will the morning never come? and will the sun never shine again? i--" -----------------------------------------------------------------------the log breaks off abruptly just here, and all that i have further to say was gleaned from halcott and tandy themselves. the steamer, then, that had arrived so opportunely to save the few unhappy survivors of the lost _sea flower_ was the trader _borneo_. the very first to welcome them when they went on board at early dawn was honest weathereye himself. he had a hand for halcott and a hand for tandy--a heart for both. "god bless you!" he hastened to say. "ah! do not tell me your sad story now--no, never a bit of it. the _dun avon_ brought your letters, and i could not rest till i came out. "but run below, halcott; some one else wants to welcome you. you'll be surprised--" halcott never knew rightly whether he had descended to the saloon on wings or on his feet, or whether he had jumped right down through the skylight. a minute afterwards, however, doris was weeping in his arms--ah! such glad, glad tears--and doris's mother arose from a couch with a happy smile. -----------------------------------------------------------------------that same day, after taking all that was valuable out of the dear old _sea flower_--and that _all_ included a fortune in gold--the hull was set on fire. in the evening the steamer left the island, but not before tandy and halcott had taken the bearings of the hidden mine. in that cave lies an immense fortune for some one some day. some hard work and digging will be required, however, before the fortune is finally brought to bank, and those who go to seek it must go fully prepared to fight as fiendish a tribe of man-eating savages as ever yet has been faced in the south pacific ocean. -----------------------------------------------------------------------ideal voyages by sea are still to be made, although not in torpedo-boats or in _majesties_, and this was one of them. the crusoes of the island of gold, once fairly afloat on the briny ocean, soon waxed healthy and strong again, and all hands on board the saucy _borneo_ were just as happy as happy could be. i must admit, however, that "saucy _borneo_" is simply a figure of speech. there wasn't, really, a trace of sauciness about the dear, old rumble-tumble of a ship. the skipper was about as rough as they make them; so was his mate--and so were all hands, for that matter. _but_ if they were rough, they were _right_, and just as dibdin describes a seaman:- "though careless and headstrong if danger should press, and ranked 'mongst the free list of rovers, he'll melt into tears at a tale of distress, and prove the most constant of lovers. "to rancour unknown, to no passion a slave, nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer, he's gentle as mercy, as fortitude brave- and this is a true british sailor." as before, bob and nelda were the pets of the ship; and 'rallie, who now did the drollest antics any bird ever attempted, kept all hands laughing from binnacle to bowsprit. happiness is catching. i gather this from the fact that, after watching halcott and doris walking arm-in-arm up and down the quarterdeck one lovely day, with pleasure and love beaming in the eyes of each, bold captain weathereye said to himself,-"how jolly they look! he makes _her_ happy, and she makes _him_. blame me if i don't make somebody happy myself as soon's i get to port. i'm not so old yet, and neither is miss scragley. ahem!" well, the reader can guess how it turned out. many years have passed since the voyage home of the old _borneo_. doris is mrs halcott now. a pleasant home they have, and tandy often visits there. tandy built himself a beautiful house on the very spot where the humble cottage stood; but it isn't called hangman's hall. bob is there, and murrams is there--good mrs farrow kept him while our heroes were at sea; and little nelda--not so little now--is there, too; while, high and dry, in the gibbet-tree still roosts the droll old admiral. ransey tansey is a man now, and walks his own quarterdeck; but i did hear, only yesterday, that he will soon marry eedie. there is no miss scragley any longer, however. but there is a mrs weathereye. ahem! yes; and weathereye and tandy are almost inseparables, and many a yarn they spin together over their pipes. as the canal yonder, with the sunlight glinting on its breast, goes calmly meandering through the woods and meadows green, so gently pass their lives along. good-bye, lads! please, may i come again? -----------------------------------------------------------------------the end. [illustration: cover art] [frontispiece: samba and the crocodile] samba a story of the rubber slaves of the congo by herbert strang _author of "one of clive's heroes," "kobo," "brown of moukden," "tom burnaby," etc., etc_ illustrated by william rainey, r.i. "botofé bo le iwa!--rubber is death!"--_congo proverb_. _second edition_ london henry frowde -----hodder & stoughton oxford university press -----warwick square, e.c. 1908 copyright, 1906, by the bobbs-merrill company, in the united states of america. _butler and tanner, the selwood printing works, frome, and london_ preface nearly a generation has passed since king leopold was entrusted by the great powers with the sovereignty of the congo free state. the conscience of christendom had been shocked by the stories, brought back by stanley and other travellers, of arab slave raids on the upper congo; king leopold, coming forward with the strongest assurances of philanthropic motive, was welcomed as the champion of the negro, who should bring peace and the highest blessings of civilization to the vast territory thus placed under his sway. for many succeeding years it was supposed that this work of deliverance, of regeneration, was being prosecuted with all diligence; the power of the slave traders was broken, towns were built, roads made, railways opened--none of the outward signs of material progress were wanting. but of late the civilized world has been horrified to find that this imposing structure has been cemented with the life blood of the congo races; that the material improvements to which the administrators of congoland can point, have been purchased by an appalling amount of suffering inflicted upon the hapless negroes. the collection of rubber, on which the whole fabric of congo finance rests, involves a disregard of liberty, an indifference to suffering, a destruction of human life, almost inconceivable. those who best know the country estimate that the population is annually reduced, under king leopold's rule, by at least a hundred thousand. no great war, no famine, no pestilence in the world's history has been so merciless a scourge as civilization in congoland. yet owing to mutual jealousies, the powers are slow to take action, and while they hesitate to intervene, the population of this great region, nearly as large as europe, is fast disappearing. it has been my aim in this book to show, within necessary limitations, what the effect of the white man's rule has been. if any reader should be tempted to imagine that the picture here drawn is overcoloured, i would commend him to the publications issued by mr. e. d. morel and his co-workers of the congo reform association, with every confidence that the cause of the congo native will thereby gain a new adherent. i must express my very great thanks to the rev. j. h. harris and mrs. harris, who have spent several years on the upper congo, for their kindness in reading the manuscript and revising the proofs of this book, and for many most helpful suggestions and criticisms. herbert strang. contents chapter i the coming of the white man chapter ii "rubber is death" chapter iii monsieur elbel chapter iv night alarms chapter v the order of merit chapter vi samba is missing chapter vii blood brothers chapter viii jack in command chapter ix samba meets the little men chapter x a trip with a crocodile chapter xi bula matadi comes to ilola chapter xii samba comes back chapter xiii "honour thy father and thy mother" chapter xiv lokolobolo's first fight chapter xv a revolt at ilola chapter xvi the house by the water chapter xvii a buffalo hunt chapter xviii elbel's barrels chapter xix breaking the blockade chapter xx david and goliath chapter xxi a dash and all together chapter xxii a message and a meeting chapter xxiii elbel squares accounts chapter xxiv a solemn charge chapter xxv a break for liberty chapter xxvi turning the tables chapter xxvii the return of lokolobolo chapter xxviii the chicotte chapter xxix reaping the whirlwind chapter xxx sinews of war chapter xxxi summons and surrender chapter xxxii the dawn of freedom chapter xxxiii conclusion illustrations plate i samba and the crocodile . . . . . . _frontispiece_ ii the finding of samba iii a midnight encounter iv jack turns the tables v jack rushes elbel's camp vi samba rescued from the burning hut ilombekabasi and surrounding country, showing elbel's first camp in foreground ilombekabasi and surrounding country, showing the diverted stream and elbel's third camp "every boy and youth is, in his mind and sentiments, a knight, and essentially a son of chivalry. nature is fine in him.... as long as there have been, or shall be, young men to grow up to maturity; and until all youthful life shall be dead, and its source withered for ever; so long must there have been, and must there continue to be, the spirit of noble chivalry. to understand therefore this first and, as it were, natural chivalry, we have only to observe the features of the youthful age, of which examples surround us." edward fitzgerald. chapter i the coming of the white man samba lay face downwards upon the yellow sand, amid which his body shone in the sunlight like polished ebony. behind, the rising bank was thick with trees and shrubs ablaze with colour, overspread with the delicate tracery of lianas and, creeping plants. here was a spot of red, there a dash of orange; at intervals the pale yellow flowers of climbing gourds and the mauve blossoms of convolvuli peeped from the wall of vivid green. tiny rills made music as they trickled through the foliage; and near at hand was a path trodden by herds of antelopes as they came to drink. before, rolled the brown waters of a broad river, rippling over whitened rocks in the bed, or over the gnarled limbs of fallen trees. here, on a sandy islet, flashed the scarlet and blue of little kingfishers, contrasting with the sober grey of the bittern, or the black and white of the vulture. a giant heron perched on a low overhanging branch, gazing solemnly at the ibis standing solitary by a distant bush. on a smooth spot at samba's right sported innumerable butterflies, blue and green and crimson, amid bees and dragon-flies lazily basking in the heat. samba had but to stretch out his hand to make prisoners of what he chose. but samba's attention was already occupied. looking over the brink into the placid water, his eye was caught by a small round soft object lying motionless on the surface. a tiny crocodile, only a few inches long, darted from beneath the leaf of a water-lily, in pursuit of a tinier fish. the round object suddenly contracted: there was a ripple on the water, and the baby crocodile found itself in the grasp of a droll little proboscis that shot out, gripped its hapless prey, and drew it beneath the surface. samba smiled: he knew that just below lay a trionyx, the owner of that little nostrilled proboscis; he wasted no sympathy on the baby crocodile, which would never grow big to snap up little negro boys at the waterside. all around was silence, save for the hum of insects and the gentle lapping of the water on the sand. then a slight sound caught samba's ear, and turning, he saw a handsome young lizard, pied with yellow and greenish black, flashing along in chase of a fat frog which it had marked for its own. a swish of its flexible tail, a snap of its savage teeth, and ranunculus disappeared--a choice morsel for breakfast. such scenes as these gave samba constant entertainment. he would often wander alone from his village, as he had done to-day, carrying his little broad-bladed dagger in case a snake should cross his path, and spend hours in the forest or by the river bank, listening to the chatter of the monkeys and the screams of the parrots, watching the little stingless bees at their work, mocking the hollow note of the drumbird or the wild pigeon's doleful call, studying the busy doings of the multitudinous ants. there was not a bird or beast or insect within range of his village with whose ways samba was not familiar. the trionyx steered himself down stream; the lizard, swishing his pliant tail, went off in search of other prey; and samba's bright eyes followed the mazy movements of the myriad flies sporting on the surface of the sunlit water, and the shining fish darting this way and that in the clear depths. suddenly a scream of the fishing eagle caused him to glance up. then a shout made him spring to his feet and look wonderingly in the direction of the sound. he knew no fear. his lithe dusky body, bare save for a scrap of cloth about his loins and a string of cowries round his neck, stood erect and alert; his keen intelligent eyes expressed nothing but surprise and curiosity. again came the hail. "w'onkoe!"[1] "em'one!"[2] called samba in reply. a boat was being slowly paddled up the stream. ten stalwart baenga stood at the paddles, bending forward as they made their strokes. two other negroes squatted in the forepart of the boat. amidships sat another figure, the sight of which gave samba a delightful thrill of expectation. it was a white man, with fair hair and beard, clad all in white. could this be bula matadi, samba wondered, the white man whom his grandfather, the chief mirambo, had seen long ago at wanganga? he waited, standing still as a rock. the boat drew nearer, a few more strokes of the paddle and it came under the bank. the white man leapt ashore, followed by the two men who had been seated. they were big fierce-looking fellows. each carried a long strangely-shaped stick with a hollow tube; about his waist dangled a bag of skin. the white man stepped up to samba, smiled upon him, patted his woolly head. then one of the negroes began to question him. where was his village? what was it called? who was its chief? how many huts did it contain? was there much forest about it? to these questions samba replied frankly; surely it was a great honour to his grandfather that the white man should take such interest in him! then came a question that somewhat amused him. did the forest contain _botofé_?[3] he smiled. of course it did. were not the drumsticks in his village made of _botofé_? what a strange question to ask of a forest boy! the white man smiled in return, and said something in a strange tongue to the negro who had spoken. "take us to your village," said the man; and, nothing loth, samba set off like a young deer, the three men following him. samba was eleven years old. his home was the village of banonga, a street of bamboo huts thatched with palm leaves and shadowed by the broad foliage of bananas and plantains and tall forest trees. his grandfather mirambo was the village chief, a tall, strong, wise old man, a great fighter in his day, his body scarred with wounds, his memory stored with the things he had seen and done. samba's father, mboyo (or isekasamba, "father of samba," as he was called after his boy was born), was the old chief's favourite son, a daring hunter, a skilful fisher, and the most silent man of his tribe. he had several wives, but samba's mother was the best loved of them all, and wore about her ankles the brass rings that betokened her supreme place in her husband's affections. grandfather, father, mother, all doted on samba, and for eleven years he had lived a happy merry life, the pet of the village. nothing had troubled the peace of the little community. banonga was a secluded village, on the outskirts of a dense forest, not far from one of the innumerable tributaries of the great river congo. life passed easily and pleasantly for these children of nature. in the morning, ere the sun was up, the men would spring from their simple bamboo beds, fling their hunting-nets or fishing-baskets on their shoulders, hang about their necks the charms that would preserve them from accident and ensure success in the work of the day, and repair to the old chief, who, sitting on his forked chair in the middle of the street, gave them the _bokaku_--the blessing without which they never left the village. "may you be preserved from accident," he would say; "from wild beasts, from snags in the path and snakes in the grass, and return with great plenty." then they would shout their farewells, and hasten with light-hearted laughter into the forest or down to the river. meanwhile the women had been long astir. some, babe on one arm, calabash in the other, went singing to a forest stream, to bathe their children and fill their vessels with water for the day's cooking. others, with baskets slung upon their backs and rude implements upon their shoulders, sped to the gardens and cultivated fields, to perform their simple operations of husbandry, and to return by and by with manioc, plantains, ground-nuts, which they would prepare against their husbands' return. the morning's work done, they would dress their hair, carefully, even fastidiously; kindle the fires of three converging logs, and set upon them well-heaped pots of manioc, covered with leaves of plantain or nongoti to prevent the escape of steam. some would prattle or sing lullabies to their babes, others form little knots and gossip, laughing and jesting without a thought of care. all day the village was cheered by the merry antics and joyous shouts of the children at play. like children all over the world, the boys and girls of the congo delight in mimicking their elders. the boys made little hunting-nets and ran hither and thither in mock chase, or spread their fishing-nets in the stream and gleefully boasted of their tiny catches. the girls wove little baskets and played with beads and shells. one and all, the children of banonga were deft with their fingers, and none so deft as samba. he was always busy, shaping now a mortar for his mother, now a chair for his grandfather, now a wicker basket so close in texture that he could bring in it water from the stream without spilling a drop. most of all samba loved to squat by his grandfather's chair in the late afternoon, when the old chief sat alone, chin on hand, waiting for the return of the men. then, and on dark nights, mirambo would recite, in his deep musical voice, interminable stories and legends, of the spirits that haunted the woods, of the animals he had hunted and slain, of narrow escapes from the greedy jaws of crocodiles, of fierce fights with cannibals, of adventurous journeys by field and flood. samba never tired of one story: how, years before, mirambo had made a long journey to wanganga, far, very far away, and had there seen a white man, who wore cloth all over his body, and had come up the river on a wonderful smoke-boat, driven by a fiery snorting devil that devoured insatiably great logs of wood. bula matadi, "breaker of rocks," this wonderful white man was called; but mirambo had heard that in his own country he was called tanalay.[4] samba would listen with all his ears to his grandfather's long narratives, inwardly resolving that he too, when he became a man, would take long journeys and see marvellous things--white men, and smoke-boats, and all. then, as the sun draws towards its setting, out of the forest there come faint strains of song. mirambo's monotone ceases: he sits erect, expectant; the women run out of the huts above which the wreathing smoke proclaims preparations for the evening meal; the children gather in a laughing chattering flock at the end of the street. the sound of singing draws nearer: at length it stops abruptly, but instantly is followed by a loud prolonged shout; only lianza's brazen throat can utter that sonorous cry:-"i-yo-li-o! i-yo-li-o-o!" and the long-drawn hail of lianza is broken in upon by the roar of his companions. "yo!" shout eighty men as one. and out of the forest spring the dusky band, laden with their spoils, which with an exultant shout they set down before the chief, amid cries and hand-clapping and slapping of the thighs by the women and children welcoming their return. the flesh is cut up, the fish divided: the women return to their huts to cook the supper; the children cling about their fathers' legs and recount the little adventures of the day. the meal is eaten: the whole population form a wide circle in the street, and, squatting on their hams, give themselves up to the joy of watching the gyrations of the dancing women, who, in their aprons of long grass, decorated with tinkling bells, whirl around to the barbaric music of drums and castanets, as the day darkens and the moon throws her silvery beams upon the scene. such were the daily scenes amid which samba passed his happy boyhood, in the village of banonga, whither he was now leading the white stranger. the village came in sight, nestling in a glade. the laughing children ceased their play, and stood finger in mouth shyly contemplating the new comers. the women, busily grinding manioc with pestle and mortar in the open, looked up with startled glance and fled into their huts, where they stood peeping from behind the posts of palm. mirambo, the chief, rose from his seat and awaited with dignity the approach of the white man. ceremonious greetings were exchanged. then ensued a long conversation, the white man speaking, his negroes translating to the chief. he listened intently, and replied in brief phrases, most often contenting himself with exclamations of assent--"inde!" "ng'oko!" or of dissent--"lako!" "o nye!" _botofé_! yes, he knew where _botofé_ could be found. and the white man, the son of heaven, wanted _botofé_; it had some value for him? well, he should have it. who so hospitable as the men of banonga? they were not as the men of kinshassa, who met the white man with cries of anger, and spears, and knives. had not he, mirambo, seen bula matadi, the friend of the black man? "when my sons return from their hunting," said mirambo, "they shall provide the stranger with all that he needs. they shall give him plantains, and fowls, and cakes of _kwanga_;[5] they shall make ready a hut for him; and _botofé_--yes, if he needs _botofé_, my young men shall go into the forest and fill their baskets with _botofé_ for him. no one shall say but that the white man is welcome in banonga." [1] are you there? [2] i am here. [3] rubber. [4] h. m. stanley. [5] a preparation of manioc. chapter ii "rubber is death" "whew! this is a warm country, jack. there'll soon be nothing left of us." "there's plenty at present, uncle," replied jack challoner with a smile. "barney can spare less, after all." "sure an' that's the truth's truth, sorr. 'twas the sorrow uv me mother's heart that i ran to length instid uv breadth. whin i was a bhoy she had to buy breeches always a size too long for me, and me bones grew so fast they almost made holes in me skin--they did." "confound it, man, that's where you score. the mosquitoes leave you alone: can't find enough juice in you to make it worth their while to worry you. whereas they suck at me till i'm all ulcers. hi! nando, when shall we get to this banonga we've heard so much about?" "berrah soon, sah. paddle small small, sah, den banonga." mr. martindale mopped his brow and drew his white umbrella closer down upon his head. he was lying under a grass shelter amidships a dug-out, with his nephew jack at his side and his man barney o'dowd at his feet. the clumsy native craft rocked to and fro under the paddles of twelve stalwart baenga, who stood, their bodies bent slightly forward, singing in time with their strokes. they were paddling against the current of a stream that forced its brown waters into one of the tributaries of the congo. it was a broiling day. a rainstorm in the night had cleared the sky of the haze that commonly covered it, and the sun beat down out of a dome of fleckless blue, irradiating the crimsons and purples, the golds and whites, of the rich vegetation on the banks. "i tell you, jack," continued mr. martindale, "i shall grumble if this talk of banonga turns out to be wind. i don't see what the congo state has to gain by exterminating the natives; and we know what liars these blacks can be." "suppose the talk of gold turns out to be wind, uncle?" "eh? what's that? wind! rubbish! the difference is that we hear of banonga from the blacks; but 'twas barnard told me of the gold, and barnard hasn't got enough imagination to say more than he knows. no, the gold is there safe enough; and i tell you i shall be glad when we get through this banonga and can proceed to business." john martindale was a florid well-preserved man of fifty-five years. born in new york, he had early gone west, rapidly made his pile in california, and retired from the direction of his mines. but meeting one day in san francisco an old friend of his, a queer stick of a fellow named barnard, who spent his life in roaming over the world and making discoveries that laid the foundation of other men's fortunes, not his own, he learnt from him that clear signs of gold had been observed in the maranga district on the upper congo. mr. martindale was very rich; but, like many another man, he found after his retirement that time hung somewhat heavy on his hands. he was still full of energy, and barnard's story of gold in a new country stirred the imagination of the old miner. he decided to take a trip to africa and test his friend's information. as a matter of course he invited barnard to accompany him. "no, no, john," replied his friend. "i scratched the soil; i know gold is there; i've no further interest in the stuff. i'm off to the philippines next week. go and dig, old fellow, and take plenty of quinine with you." it happened that mr. martindale's only nephew, jack challoner, a lad of seventeen, was just home from school. he was an orphan. his mother, mr. martindale's sister, had married an english barrister of great ability, who had already made a name at the parliamentary bar. but he died when his boy was only six years old; two years later his wife followed him to the grave, and the guardianship of jack fell to his uncle, who, being a bachelor without other ties, readily assumed the charge. he surprised his friends by the course he took with the boy. instead of bringing him to america, he entered him at bilton and afterwards at rugby, declaring that as the boy was english it was only fair he should receive an english education. "i read _tom brown_ years ago," he would say, "and if they turn 'em out now as they did then--well, we can't do better this side of the herring pond." jack spent his holidays either in america, or in travelling about europe with his uncle, and the two became great chums. but when jack reached his seventeenth birthday mr. martindale again surprised his friends. "send him to oxford?" he said. "not much! he has had nearly four years at rugby, he's in the fifth form, and i guess he's enough book learning to serve his turn. he's tip-top at sports: he's a notion of holding his own and helping lame dogs; and i don't want his nose to turn up, as i believe noses have a trick of doing at oxford. no: the boy'll come home. i don't know what he's to be; but i'll soon find out what he's fit for, and then he'll have to work at it. the least i could do for his father's sake was to give him an english education; he'll come back to america for a smartening up." it was not long after jack's return that mr. martindale met his friend barnard. since barnard would not be his companion, jack should. "it will do you no harm to see a little travel off the beaten track," he said, "and i'm not going to work the gold myself: my mining days are done. you may tumble to it; in that case you'll stay in africa and take care not to waste my capital. you may not: that'll be one thing settled, anyway." accordingly, when mr. martindale sailed for europe he took jack with him. with characteristic energy he very quickly settled the preliminaries. he obtained for a comparatively small sum from a belgian trading company, the holders of a large concession on the upper congo, the mining rights in the maranga district, on condition of the company receiving a percentage of the profits. the first practical step having been taken, mr. martindale's interest in his project became keen. he had never travelled out of america or europe; there was a certain glamour about an adventure in the heart of africa; and he was rich enough to indulge his humour, even if the results of barnard's discovery should prove disappointing. uncle and nephew sailed for africa, spent a few days at boma, travelled over the cataract railway from matadi to leopoldville, and thence went in a steamer for nearly three weeks up the congo. then, leaving the main river, they embarked on a smaller steamer, plying on a tributary stream. in about a week they arrived at a "head post," whence they continued their journey, up a tributary of a tributary, by canoe. this last stream was quite a considerable river as the term would be understood in europe, though neither so broad nor so deep as the one they had just left. but this again was insignificant by comparison with the mighty congo itself, fed by a thousand tributaries in its course of fifteen hundred miles from the heart of africa to the sea. mr. martindale became more and more impressed as the journey lengthened, and at last burst out: "well, now, this licks even the mississippi!" but not the shannon! barney o'dowd was a true irishman. mr. martindale had engaged him in london as handy-man to the expedition. he had been in the army; he had been a gentleman's servant, wardroom attendant at a hospital, drill-sergeant at a boys' school, 'bus conductor, cabman, and chauffeur; but in none of these numerous vocations, he said with a sigh, had he ever grown fat. he was long, lean, strong as a horse; with honest merry blue eyes, and curly lips that seemed made for smiling. he drove the travellers in a hansom during the week they stayed in london, and looked so sorrowful when mr. martindale announced his departure that the american, on the spur of the moment, with bluff impulsiveness, invited him to join the expedition. "sure an' 'tis me last chance, sorr," cried barney, cheerfully consenting. "a sea voyage does wonders for some. there was terence o'bally, now, as thin as a lath in the ould counthry; he went to australia, and by the powers! when he came back to say 'god bless you' to his ould mother, she did not know him at all at all, he was so full in the flesh, sorr. sure an' i'll come wid ye wid the greatest pleasure in the world, and plase the pigs i'll fatten like terence. only wan thing, sorr; ye would not have any inshuperable objection to pat, sorr?" "who on earth's pat?" "just a dog, sorr; a little darlint uv a terrier no fatter than me, sorr; as kind an' gentle as wan uv the blessed angels. he has as poor appetite, sorr, an' sleeps on my coat, so he will not cost ye much for board and lodging. and i would thank ye kindly, sorr, if i might but go home to 'm an' say, 'pat, me darlint, times is changed. we are in luck, pat. there's a nice, kind, fat, jolly american gentleman that takes very kindly to dogs an' irishmen, an'----'" "there then, that'll do," said mr. martindale, laughing. "bring pat, if you like. but he'll have to go if he proves a nuisance." and so pat became a member of the party. and he lay curled up now in the bottom of the canoe, and cocked an eye as barney declared with emphasis that the congo was a "mighty foine river, sure an' 'tis only fair to say so; but by all the holy powers 'tis not to be compared wid the shannon, blessed be its name!" it was pat that sprang first ashore when the paddlers with a resounding "yo!" drove the canoe alongside a turfy platform by the bank, worn level by the treading of innumerable feet. the dog uttered one sharp bark, faced round to the river, and stood with ears pricked and stumpy tail wagging, to watch his master step to land. "now, nando," said mr. martindale, when all were ashore, "lead the way. not too fast: and not too near skeeters or jiggers." "berrah well, sah; me go fust; frighten skeeters all away." leaving ten of the crew in the canoe, the rest of the party set off under nando's guidance. he led them through the mass of tall grass that lined the river bank, across a swampy stretch of heath, where a narrow path wound in and out among trees large and small, beset by dense undergrowth and climbing plants. insects innumerable flitted and buzzed around the travellers, provoking lively exclamations from mr. martindale and jack, and many a vicious snap from the terrier, but leaving barney almost untouched. once a wild pig dashed across the path and plunged into the thicket, with pat barking frantically at its heels. here and there mr. martindale caught sight of red-legged partridge and quail, and sighed for his rifle. parrots squawked overhead; once, from the far distance, muffled by the foliage, came the trumpet of an elephant; but signs of humanity there were none, save the meandering track. at length, however, they came to a clear open space amid the trees, where, on a low hill, stood a crude open hut, consisting of upright supports surmounted by a roof of bamboos and leaves, and partly walled by cloth. "berrah nice place, sah," said nando cheerfully. "chief him missis buried dah." the travellers approached with curiosity. inside the shed they saw a small image, roughly carved in semblance of a human figure, set upright in the ground. at one side lay two or three wicker baskets, at the other a bottle; in front a big iron spoon stuck out of the soil, and all around were strewed hundreds of small beads. nando explained that these had been the property of the deceased lady. "and is she buried under them?" asked mr. martindale, stepping back a pace. "bit of her, sah." "what do you mean--a bit of her?" "all dey find, sah. bula matadi come, make big bobbery; bang! chief him missis lib for[1] dead, sah. bad man cut up, put in pot, only little bit left, sah." mr. martindale shivered, then waxed indignant. "i don't believe it," he declared stoutly. "such things aren't done in these days. there are no cannibals in these days--eh, jack?" "i hope not, uncle. but are we near banonga, nando?" "small small, sah, den banonga." "lead on, then," cried mr. martindale; "i want to see with my own eyes whether those fellows were telling the truth." some distance down the river, just after camping for the night, mr. martindale's rest had been disturbed by a loud and excited conversation between his own party and a group of newcomers who had halted to exchange greetings. inquiring the cause of the commotion, he learnt that the men had brought news of a terrible massacre that had taken place at banonga, a village in the forest many miles up stream. the villagers had been remiss in their collection of rubber; the agents of bula matadi (which, originally the native name for sir h. m. stanley, had become the name for the congo free state) had appeared at the village with a force of native soldiers, and, according to the informant, who had received the news from an up-country man, the whole population had been annihilated. mr. martindale had heard, in america and england as well as in africa, strange stories of the administration of the congo state; but, like many others, he had been inclined to pooh-pooh the rumours of cruelty and atrocity as the vapourings of sentimentalists. but the stories imperfectly interpreted by nando on that pleasant evening by the river made a new impression on him. he was a hard-headed man of business, as little inclined to sentimentality as any man could be; he hated any appeal to the emotions, and unasked gave large subscriptions to hospitals and philanthropic societies so as to avoid the harrowing of his feelings by collectors and other importunate folk; but beneath his rough husk lay a very warm heart, as none knew better than his nephew jack; and the stories of cruelty told by the lips of these natives made him feel very uncomfortable. at a distance he could shut his eyes to things--open his purse to deserving objects and believe that his duty was done; but here, on the spot, this easy course was not possible. he did not like discomfort, bodily or mental; it annoyed him when any external cause ruffled the serenity of his life; and he made up his mind to pay a visit to banonga on his way up the river, test the negroes' story, and prove to his own satisfaction, as he believed he would do, that it was exaggerated if not untrue. that done, he would dismiss the matter from his thoughts, and proceed to the proper business of his journey without anything to disturb his peace of mind. the party left the grave on the hill and followed the same path through another stretch of forest until they came, almost unawares, upon a large clearing. "banonga, massa," said nando, stretching out his hand, and looking into mr. martindale's eyes with a glance as of some frightened animal. "banonga! but where are the huts?" said mr. martindale. no one answered him. the party of five stood at the edge of the clearing, looking straight before them. pat the terrier trotted around, wagging his stump, and blinking up into their faces as if to ask a question. what did they see? a long broad track, leading between palms and plantains away into the impenetrable forest. these leafy walls were vivid green, but the road itself was black. a smell of charred wood and burnt vegetation filled the air. there was not a complete hut to be seen. the space once thronged with a joyous chattering crowd was now empty, save for ashes, half-burnt logs, shattered utensils. here and there a bird hopped and pecked, flying up into the trees with shrill scream as pat sprang barking towards it. but for these sounds, the silence was as of death. "come," said mr. martindale, stepping forward. it was he who led the way now as the party left the ring of forest and walked into the clearing. barney, coming behind with nando, groaned aloud. "stop that noise!" cried mr. martindale, swinging round irritably. "what's the matter with you, man?" "sorrow a bit the matter wid me, sorr; but it just brought into me mimory a sight i saw in the ould counthry whin i was a bhoy; sure there was nothing to see there either, and that's the pity uv it." mr. martindale walked on without speaking, poking with his stick into the black dust of the road. nando went to his side, and pointed out such traces of former habitations as remained: here a cooking pot, there a half-consumed wicker basket, a broken knife, a blackened bead-necklace. and among the other scattered evidences of rapine there were the remains of human beings--skeletons, separate bones. "whoever did this did it thoroughly," remarked mr. martindale with darkening brow. "but who did it? i won't believe it was europeans till 'tis proved. there are cannibals here; nando said so: a cannibal tribe may have raided the place. eh? but where are the people?" in the thick undergrowth, beyond the desolated village, crouched a negro boy. his cheeks were sunken, his eyes unnaturally bright. his left arm hung limp and nerveless; in his right hand he clutched a broad-pointed dagger. he had been lying in a stupor until roused by a sharp sound, the cry of some animal strange to him. then he raised himself slowly and with difficulty to his knees, and peered cautiously, apprehensively, through the foliage amid which he was ensconced. he glared and shrank back when he saw that among the strangers moving about were two white men. but what was this animal they had brought with them? he wondered. goats he knew, and pigs, and the wild animals of the forest; he knew the native dog, with its foxy head, smooth yellowish coat, and bushy tail; but this creature was new to him. true, it was like a dog, though its brown coat was rough and its tail stumpy; but he had never seen the dogs of his village trot round their masters as this was doing, never heard them speaking, as it seemed, to the men with this quick sharp cry. the dogs he had known never barked; their only utterance was a long howl, when they were hungry or in pain. he hated white men, but loved animals; and, weak as he was, he raised himself once more, and bent forward, to look at this active dog-like creature that came and went in apparent joyousness. a bird flew down from a tree, and alighted hardily within a couple of yards of the terrier. this was too much for pat. he darted at the audacious bird, pursued it into the thicket, then came to a sudden surprised stop when he descried a black form among the leaves. he stood contemplating the boy with his honest brown eyes, and his tail was very active. then with one short bark he trotted back to his master, and looked up at him as if to say: "i have made a discovery; come and see." but man's intelligence is very limited. barney did not understand. "and did the cratur' give ye the slip, then?" he said, patting the dog's head. "that's not the point," said pat's barks; "i want you to come and see what i have found," and he ran off again towards the thicket, turning once or twice to see if his master was following. but barney paid little attention to him, and pat, giving him up as hopeless, went on alone to scrape acquaintance. he stood before the boy at a distance of a yard, blinking at him between the tendrils of a creeper. then he advanced slowly, wagging his stump, poked his nose through the leaves, and after a moment's sniffing deliberation put out his tongue and licked the black knee he found there. the boy made with his closed lips the humming sound with which the negro of the congo expresses pleasure, and next moment the dog's paws were in his hands, and the two, dog and boy, were friends. but whoever was a friend of pat's must also be a friend of barney o'dowd. it was not long before pat awoke to a sense of his duty. he tried with the negro the plan that had just failed with his master. he retreated a little way, cocked his head round and barked, and waited for the boy to follow. the latter understood at once; but he shook his head, and said, "o nye! o nye!" under his breath, and lay still. pat began to see that there was something keeping the white man and the black boy apart. it was very foolish, he thought; they were both such good fellows: it was quite clear that they ought to be friends; but what was a dog to do? he trotted slowly back to barney, and began to speak to him seriously, with a bark of very different intonation from that he had previously employed. "well, and what is it wid ye thin?" said barney. "he has caught the bird, i expect," said jack, amused at the dog's manner, "and wants you to go and see it." "sure thin i will," said barney, "and mutton being scarce, we will have a new kind uv irish stew, pat me bhoy. but why did ye not bring it, me darlint?" he made to follow the dog, whose tail was now beating the air with frantic delight. but he had no sooner reached the edge of the plantation than there was a rustle among the leaves: the boy was leaving his hiding-place and trying to crawl away into the forest. "begorra!" quoth barney, "'tis a living cratur', and a bhoy, black as the peat on me father's bog, and not knowing a word uv irish, to be sure." pat was rubbing his nose on the boy's flank, wondering why he had taken to going on all fours. but the negro did not crawl far. faint with weakness, moaning with pain, he sank to the ground. pat gave one bark of sympathy and stood watching him. meanwhile jack had come up. "a boy, did you say, barney? what is he doing here?" "sure i would like to know that same, sorr, but niver a word uv his spache did i learn. perhaps he has niver seen a white man, not to say an irishman, before, and thinks 'tis a ghost." "nando, come here!" called jack. the paddler hurried up, followed quickly by mr. martindale. "what's this? what's this? a boy! they're not all killed then." "i think he's hurt, uncle, and scared. he tried to crawl away from us, but seemed too weak." "well, lift him up, barney; we'll see." barney approached, but the instant he stretched forth his hands the boy uttered a piercing shriek, and made to thrust at him with his dagger. "come, this will never do," said mr. martindale. "speak to him, nando; tell him we are friends, and will do him no harm." nando went up to the boy, and pat stood by, wagging his tail and looking inquiringly from one to the other as the negro talked in his rapid staccato. a few minutes passed; then nando turned round and with a beaming smile said: "he understan' all same now, sah. i say massa inglesa ginleman, blood brudder tanalay, oh yes. he know 'bout tanalay: he no 'fraid dis time; he come along along. he samba, sah." [1] i.e. _live for_, an expression commonly used in all kinds of circumstances by the natives, practically an intensive for various forms of the verb _to be_. chapter iii monsieur elbel samba made no resistance when nando lifted him and carried him to the centre of the clearing. he moaned once or twice as the baenga pressed his wounded arm, and almost fainted when he was laid on the ground before mr. martindale. but a sip from the traveller's flask revived him, and he smiled. "that's better," said mr. martindale. "poor boy! he looks half starved. have you any food about you, nando?" "no, sah: get some one time."[1] he went off into the thicket, and soon returned with a couple of scorched bananas. these samba devoured ravenously. "now i wonder if he could tell us all about it?" said mr. martindale. "ask him, nando." samba told his story. his dialect was different from nando's, but there is a freemasonry of speech among the tribes of the congo, and nando understood. it was not so easy for the others to get at the meaning of nando's strange jargon as he interpreted, but they listened patiently, and missed little of the narrative. mr. martindale sat on an upturned pot, jack and barney on charred logs. nando squatted beside samba on the ground, and pat thrust his muzzle contentedly between the boy's knees and seemed to sleep. [illustration: the finding of samba] one night, when the moon was at the full, a messenger had come into banonga village. the time was at hand when the agent of bula matadi would attend to collect the tax--the weight of rubber exacted by the congo state from every able-bodied man. the messenger reminded the chief that banonga had several times been in default. only a few men had hitherto been punished, only a few women carried away as hostages for the diligence of their husbands. but the patience of bula matadi was exhausted. if on this occasion the due measure of rubber was not forthcoming, the anger of bula matadi would blaze, the soldiers would come, and the men of banonga would have cause to rue their idleness. the chief listened in silence. he was old; his body was bowed, his spirit broken. life in banonga was no longer the same since the white man came. all the joy of life was gone; the people spent their days in unremitting toil, endeavouring to satisfy the cry of their rulers for rubber, always rubber, more rubber. when the messenger arrived the men were away hunting for rubber, but mirambo knew that, were they doubled in number, they could not gather the quantity required. the vines in their district were exhausted; the men had not been taught how to tap them; they destroyed as they went, and now the whole district around banonga would not yield half of what was demanded of them. the poor old chief trembled when he thought of the woe that was coming to banonga, for he now knew from the fate of other villages on the river what the messenger of bula matadi foreshadowed. unless his men could achieve the impossible, find rubber where there was none, the blow would fall. and when it fell banonga would be no more. the village a little while ago so happy and prosperous would be destroyed, its people killed or scattered. so it had happened to other villages: how could he hope that banonga would be spared? the messenger indeed had spoken of the leniency of bula matadi, but the chief might have reminded him of the outrages the people had suffered; of the rapacity, the ruthless brutalities, of the forest guards. but he said no word of provocation; only, when the man had gone, samba heard him mutter the terrible sentence now too often on his lips: "botofé bo le iwa: rubber is death!" the day came: the agent of bula matadi appeared, with an armed escort. the men of banonga had not returned. they came dropping in by ones and twos and threes, worn out with their long quest. the rubber was weighed: in many cases it was short; excuses were rejected, entreaties scoffed at. the hapless victims suffered taunts, abuse, the terrible whip. one, less enduring than the rest, resisted. this was the signal. a dozen rifles were raised--a dozen shots rang out, strong forms lay writhing in the agony of death. a brief, sharp struggle; another fusillade; and the terrified survivors, men, women and children, fled helter-skelter to the forest, pursued by the shots of the soldiery, ruthless of age or sex. a raid was made upon their deserted huts: everything that had value for the native levies was seized; then the match was applied, and soon what had once been a prosperous happy village was a heap of smouldering ruins. samba saw it all. he remained dauntless by his grandfather's side until a bullet put an end to the old chief's life; then he too fled into the forest, to find his father and mother, his brothers and sisters. but he had delayed too long; one of the sentinels fired at him as he ran: his left arm was struck. he struggled on, but his friends were now out of reach: he could not find them. for several days he wandered about, supporting his life on roots and herbs in the vain search for his people. then, growing hourly weaker, he crept back to his village, hoping that by and by the survivors would return to their desolated homes, to rebuild their huts, and sow new crops. but none came. he was alone! and he had lain down among the trees--as he thought, to die. "poor little fellow!" said mr. martindale. "how old is he, nando?" "he say ten three years, sah," replied nando after consulting the boy. "thirteen. he looks older. this is a pretty kettle of fish. what can we do with him?" "we must take him with us, uncle!" said jack. "take him with us, indeed! what can we do with him? we can't hunt for his father and mother: he'd be of no use to us in our job. he wants doctoring: he might die on our hands." "i learnt a little doctoring in the hospital, sorr," said barney. "sure i think i could mend his arm." "well, well, nando and the other man had better bring him along to the canoe--gently, you know. don't make him squeal." the two negroes lifted the boy, and the party set off to return to the river. "a fine responsibility you have let me in for, jack," said mr. martindale as they went along. "i've no notion of a crusoe and friday relationship." "why not say don quixote and sancho panza, uncle?" "a man of my girth!" said mr. martindale, chuckling. "but joking apart, jack, this is a serious business. what am i to do with the boy, supposing he gets better? i am not a philanthropist; i can't start a boys' home; and the little chap will be of no use to us in our proper work. for the life of me i don't see daylight through this." "we may find him useful in other ways, uncle. besides, we may come across his people." "and we may not--we may not, jack. still, have your way; only remember he's your protégé; i wash my hands of him. and mind you, i'm not going to start a crusade. there's been terrible work in this village: no mistake about it; but i'm not convinced it's the doing of white men: in fact, i refuse to believe it." "but they're responsible. they shouldn't employ natives who are so blackguardly." "that's where it is, you see. you britishers employed red indians in our war of independence, didn't you?" "yes, and lord chatham thundered against it, and it was put a stop to." "they taught you history at rugby, did they? glad to hear it. well, i dare say leopold will put a stop to it if representations are made to him. it's none of my business, but i'll mention the matter when i get back to boma. now, sambo----" "samba, uncle." "bo or ba, it's all the same. you'll have to be a good boy, samba. but what's the good of talking! he can't understand what i say. doesn't know good from bad, i warrant. well, well!" they reached the canoe and laid samba gently down upon rugs. the rude craft was soon under way. for a time samba lay asleep, with his arm about pat's neck; but by and by, when the paddlers paused in the song with which they accompanied their strokes, the boy awoke, and began to sing himself, in a low musical voice that struck pleasantly upon the ear after the rougher tones of the men. "bauro lofundo! (he sang); bauro lofundo! bompasu la liwanga bao lindela ud' okunda ilaka nkos'i koka." this he repeated again and again until he was tired and slept once more. "very pretty," said mr. martindale. "the boy'd make a fortune in new york, jack. but what does it all mean, anyway?" "berrah nice song, sah," said nando. "me tell all 'bout it. people of bauro, sah, plenty bad lot. bompasu and liwanga been and gone after 'long 'long into de forest, not come back till parrots one two free twenty all dah." "well, i can't make much of that. doesn't seem to have any more sense than the songs that our gals sing at home." but further inquiry brought out the story. it appeared that a rubber collector, not satisfied with exacting from the people of bauro the usual quantity of rubber, had required them to furnish him by a certain day with twenty young parrots which he wished to take with him to europe. being unable to obtain so large a number by the given date, the people were declared to be surpassingly obstinate and wicked, and the sentries bompasu and liwanga were let loose upon them until the twenty parrots were delivered. "humph!" grunted mr. martindale. "say, wasn't it macaulay who said he'd write a nation's history from its ballads? rubber and parrots; what next, i wonder? these congo people have original ideas in taxation." "begorra, sorr," said barney, "and don't i wish the taxes in the ould counthry were uv the same kind. sure and ivery man in the counthry would be glad to supply the collectors wid scores uv sparrows or peewits or any other fowl, and murphies and blackthorns--ivery mortal thing but money, sorr." in the course of a few hours the stream they had hitherto been navigating ran into a larger tributary of the congo some hundred and fifty miles above the point where it joined the main river. the canoe had scarcely entered the broader river when the crew suddenly stopped paddling, and nando, turning round with some excitement, said-"smoke-boat, sah." "what?" "smoke-boat nebber dis way before, sah." "a steamer, eh?" "a launch flying the congo state flag, uncle--blue with a golden star," said jack, standing up in the canoe and taking a long look ahead. nando explained that the rapids, a day's paddling down stream, had prevented the state officers hitherto from bringing steam launches into this part of the river. evidently the vessel now approaching must have been carried, as a whole or in sections, overland past these rapids--a work of great difficulty and labour, for the rapids were at least three miles in length, and the shores were at some parts rocky, at others covered with dense scrub. almost before nando had finished his explanation the canoe had been put about, and the men began to paddle hard up stream towards the mouth of the little river, into which the launch could not follow them. "hi, now, nando, what are you about?" cried mr. martindale. nando replied that it was always best to avoid the state officials. he would lie in a creek until the launch was past. "i don't see why we should run away," said mr. martindale. "however, after what we've just seen, i've no wish to meet them. i might say something that would lead to a row with the company." he lit a cigar and lay back in the canoe. jack turned flat on his face and watched the launch. it was soon clear that nando's plan was impossible. the launch was a swift one: it came on with increased speed, and when within hailing distance a voice in french called peremptorily upon the canoe to stop. "nando, stop paddling," said mr. martindale, leisurely turning round on his seat. "answer their hail, jack." "who are you?" shouted jack in english. the foreigner in the bow of the launch was somewhat taken aback. he had thought to do the questioning, not to be questioned. but he replied stiffly-"i am monsieur elbel, of de société cosmopolite du commerce du congo." the launch was now within a few yards of the canoe. monsieur elbel was a short thick-set man with reddish hair, and a thick red moustache that stuck out rigidly a couple of inches on each side of his nose. he wore a white topee and white trousers, but his coat was blue, with brass buttons, and gold lace at the shoulders. all but himself on deck were negroes. mr. martindale ordered the paddlers to bring the canoe round, so that he might face the belgian. then, still seated, he blew out a cloud of smoke and said-"well, i don't know you, mr. elbel, and if the work in banonga yonder is due to you i don't wish to. paddle ahead, nando." the crew looked somewhat awestruck, but obediently dropped their paddles into the stream. monsieur elbel's cheeks had turned a fiery red several shades deeper than his hair, and the veins upon his forehead swelled. the canoe sped past him while he was still endeavouring to collect himself. suddenly a tall negro at his side threw out his hand, exclaiming: "ok'ok'ok'oka!"[2] the belgian looked in the direction pointed out, and the negro followed up his exclamation with a rapid excited sentence. monsieur elbel at once sent the launch in pursuit of the canoe, ran her alongside, and cried: "halt! i bid you halt. you are rude. i vill run you down if you have not care. dat boy i see in your canoe i know him; he belong to my société: i demand him to be given up." "not so fast, mr. elbel. i treat men as they treat me. you have no right to stop me. i am an american, a citizen of the united states, travelling in the free state, which i believe, is open to all the world. besides, i have a patent from your company. i propose to continue my journey." "but--but--i tell you, dat boy is not american: he is subject of congo state, in concession of my société; still vunce, i demand him." "sorry i can't oblige you. the boy is in my service: he has been wounded--perhaps you know how; nothing but an order from the free state courts will compel me to give him up. and even then i won't, knowing what i know. that's flat, mr. elbel. you stop me at your risk. go ahead, nando." the negroes dug their paddles into the water, and the canoe darted past the side of the launch. monsieur elbel bit his moustache and savagely tugged its ends; then, completely losing control of his temper, he shouted-"you hear; i varn you. you act illegal; you come to seek for gold; dat is your business: it is not your business to meddle yourself viz de natif. i report you!" the launch snorted away up stream, the canoe continued its journey at a moderate pace, and each was soon out of sight of the other. for some minutes mr. martindale seemed preoccupied. "what is it, uncle?" asked jack after a time. "i was thinking over what that fellow elbel said. he knows more about our business here than i quite like. of course they all know we're after minerals, but barnard's find is not the dead secret he thought it was. or say, jack, d'you think we are being watched?" "perhaps he was fishing?" "i don't think so, for he didn't wait for an answer. however, we needn't meet our difficulties half-way. anyhow, 'twill do mr. elbel no harm to know that we don't care a red cent for him or any other congo man. i suppose he's in charge of this section. but what on earth did the fellow want with the boy?" nando, without ceasing to ply his paddle, turned his head and spoke over his shoulder to samba, now wide awake. "samba say him uncle dah, sah: uncle boloko, plenty bad man." "a wicked uncle, eh?" "he berrah angry, sah, 'cos samba him fader hab got plenty more wives, sah; must be chief some day. boloko he want to be chief: berrah well: banonga men all say 'lako! lako!'[3] plenty loud. boloko berrah much angry: go to white men: tell berrah bad fings 'bout banonga men. samba say banonga men lib for cut off boloko his head if catch him." "wigs on the green, jack. then i guess this boloko fellow wanted to get in first. well, it doesn't raise my opinion of mr. elbel; you know a man by the company he keeps, eh?" "and the company by him, uncle." [1] immediately. [2] exclamation of surprise. [3] exclamation of refusal. chapter iv night alarms in the course of an hour or two mr. martindale's canoe reached the camp, on a piece of rising ground immediately above the river. here he found the rest of his party--some fifty strong west african natives--the three canoes in which they had come up stream lying nose to stern along the low bank, only the first being moored, the others roped to it. the party had reached the spot three days before, and were resting after the fatigues of their journey. these had been by no means slight, for the men had had to haul the canoes through the rapids, and sometimes to make portages for a considerable distance. fortunately the canoes were not heavily laden. they contained merely a good stock of food, and a few simple mining tools. this was only a prospecting trip, as mr. martindale was careful to explain before leaving boma. his friend barnard's instructions had been clear enough. the discovery had been accidental. coming one day, in the course of his wanderings, to the village of ilola, he happened to learn that the chief's son was down with fever. the villagers had been somewhat unfriendly, and barnard was not loth to purchase their goodwill by doing what he could for the boy. he cured the fever. the chief, like most of the negroes of central africa, had strong family affections, and was eager to give some practical token of his gratitude for his son's recovery. when taking the boy's pulse, barnard had timed the beats by means of his gold repeater. the chief looked on in wonderment, believing that the mysterious sounds he heard from the watch were part of the stranger's magic. when the cure was complete, he asked barnard to present him with the magic box; but the american made him understand by signs that he could not give it away; besides, it was useful only to the white man. whereupon the chief had a happy thought. if the yellow metal was valuable, his friend and benefactor would like to obtain more of it. there was plenty to be found within a short distance of the village. the chief would tell him where it was, but him alone, conditionally. he must promise that if he came for it, or sent any one for it, the people of ilola should not be injured; for every month brought news from afar of the terrible things that were done by the white men in their hunt for rubber. perhaps the same might happen if white men came to look for gold. barnard gave the chief the desired assurance, undertaking that no harm should come to him or his people if he showed where the gold was to be found. the american was then led across a vast stretch of swampy ground to a rugged hill some three or four miles from ilola. through a deep fissure in the hillside brawled a rapid stream, and in its sandy bed the traveller discerned clear traces of the precious metal. barnard explained to mr. martindale that ilola was several days' journey above the rapids on the lemba, a sub-tributary of the congo, and provided him with a rough map on which he had traced the course of the streams he would have to navigate to reach it. but even without the map it might be found without much difficulty: its name was well known among the natives along the upper reaches of the river, the chief being lord of several villages. so far mr. martindale's journey had been without a hitch, and he was now within three or four days of his destination. it was the custom of the party to stay at night in or near a native village. there a hut could usually be got for the white men, and barnard had told them that a hut was for many reasons preferable to a tent. sudden storms were not infrequent in these latitudes, especially at night--a tent might be blown or washed away almost without warning, while a well-built native hut would stand fast. moreover, a tent is at the best uncomfortably hot and close; a hut is more roomy, and the chinks in the matting of which its sides commonly consist allow a freer passage of air. the floor too is dry and hard, often raised above the ground outside; and the roof, made of bamboo and thatched with palm leaves and coarse grasses, is rain-tight. up to the present mr. martindale had met with nothing but friendliness from the natives, and a hut had always been at his disposal. but he had now reached a part of the river where the people knew white men only by hearsay, and could not distinguish between inoffensive travellers and the grasping agents whose cruelty rumour was spreading through the land. the people of the village where he wished to put up for this night were surly and suspicious, and he decided for once to sleep in his tent on the river bank instead of in a hut. the party had barely finished their evening meal when the sun sank, and in a few minutes all was dark. samba had been handed over to barney, whose hospital experience enabled him to tend the boy's wound with no little dexterity, and the boy went happily to sleep in barney's tent, his arm round pat's neck. jack shared his uncle's tent. he had been somewhat excited by the scenes and events of the day, and did not fall asleep the moment he lay down, as he usually did. the tent was very warm and stuffy; the mosquitoes found weak spots in his curtains and sought diligently for unexplored regions of his skin, until he found the conditions intolerable. he got up, envying his uncle, who was sound asleep, his snores vying with the distant roars of hippopotami in the river. taking care not to disturb him, jack stepped out of the hut, and understood at once why the air was so oppressive. a storm was brewing. everything was still, as if weighed down by some monstrous incubus. ever and anon the indigo sky was cut across by steel-blue flashes of forked lightning, and thunder rumbled far away. jack sauntered on, past barney's tent, towards the river bank, listening to noises rarely heard by day--the grunt of hippopotami, the constant rasping croak of frogs, the lesser noises of birds and insects among the reeds. the boatmen and other natives of the party were a hundred yards away, beyond the tents he had just left. sometimes they would chatter till the small hours, but to-night they were silent, sleeping heavily after their toil. he came to a little eminence, from which he could look down towards the stream. everything was black and indistinguishable. but suddenly, as a jagged flash of lightning momentarily lit the scene, he fancied he caught a glimpse of a figure moving below, about the spot where the nearest of the canoes was moored. was it a wild beast, he wondered, prowling for food? or perhaps his eyes had deceived him? he moved a little forward; carefully, for the blackness of night seemed deeper than ever. another flash! he had not been mistaken; it was a figure, moving on one of the canoes--a human form, a man, stooping, with a knife in his hand! what was he doing? once more for an instant the lightning lit up the river, and as by a flash jack guessed the man's purpose: he was about to cut the mooring rope! jack's first impulse was to shout; but in a moment he saw that a sudden alarm might cause the natives of his party to stampede. the intruder was alone, and a negro; why not try to capture him? jack was ready with his hands: his muscles were in good order; he could wrestle and box, and, as became a boy of tom brown's school, fight. true, the man had a knife; but with the advantage of surprise on his side jack felt that the odds were fairly equal. he stole down the slope to the waterside, hoping that the darkness would remain unbroken until he had stalked his man. a solitary bush at the very brink gave him cover; standing behind it, almost touching the sleeping sentry who should have been guarding the canoes, jack could just see the dark form moving from the first canoe to the second. he waited until the man bent over to cut the connecting rope; then with three long silent leaps he gained the side of the foremost canoe, which was almost resting on the bank in just sufficient water to float her. the man had already made two or three slashes at the rope when he heard jack's splash in the shallow water. with a dexterous twist of his body he eluded jack's clutch, and swinging round aimed with his knife a savage blow at his assailant. jack felt a stinging pain in the fleshy part of the thigh, and, hot with rage, turned to grapple with the negro. his fingers touched a greasy skin; the man drew back, wriggled round, and prepared to leap overboard. at the moment when he made his spring jack flung out his hands to catch him. he was just an instant too late; the negro had splashed into the shallow water on the far side of the canoe, and disappeared into the inky blackness beyond, leaving in jack's hands a broken string, with a small round object dangling from the end. at the same moment there was a heavy thwack against the side of the canoe; and jack, mindful of crocodiles, bolted up the bank. he turned after a few yards, shuddering to think that the man had perhaps escaped him only to fall a victim to this most dreaded scourge of african rivers. but if he was indeed in the jaws of a crocodile he was beyond human help. he listened for a time, but could detect no sound betraying the man's presence. pursuit, he knew, was useless. except when the lightning flashed he could scarcely see a yard beyond him. [illustration: a midnight encounter] jack did not care to disturb his uncle. he went round the camp, found nando with some difficulty in the darkness, and ordered him to send ten of the crew to occupy the canoes for the rest of the night. then he went back to his tent, bound up his wound, and stretched himself on his mattress. he lay awake for a time, wondering what motive the intruder could have for damaging the expedition. at last, from sheer weariness, he dropped off into a troubled sleep in which he was conscious of a deluge of rain that descended upon the camp. the morning however broke clear. jack told his uncle what had occurred. "humph!" grunted mr. martindale. "what's the meaning of it, i wonder?" "do you think it was a move of that belgian fellow, uncle?" "mr. elbel? no, i don't. he has no reason for interfering with us. i've bought the rights from his company, and as they'll get royalties on all the gold i find, he's not such a fool as to hinder us." "but samba, uncle?" "bah! he was egged on to demand the boy by that villainous-looking nigger, and his dignity being a trifle upset, he thought he'd try it on with us. no, i don't think he was at the bottom of it. i've always heard that these niggers are arrant thieves; the villagers were unfriendly, you remember, and most likely 'twas one of them who took a fancy to our canoes. glad you frightened him off, anyway. what about your wound?" "it's nothing to speak of--a slight flesh wound. i washed it with alum solution, and don't think it will give me any bother." "lucky it's no worse. we'll set a careful watch every night after this. and take my advice: if you can't sleep, don't go prowling about; it isn't safe in these parts. try my dodge; shut your eyes and imagine you see forty thousand sheep jumping a patent boundary fence in single file; or if that don't work, say to yourself: 'how much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood?'--and keep on saying it. i've never known it fail." "perhaps it's a good job i didn't know it last night," replied jack, laughing. "we should have been minus four canoes." "and all our stores. but don't do it again, there's a good fellow. i've paid double passage, and i don't want to go home alone." the camp was by this time astir. the natives, chattering like monkeys, were busily preparing their breakfast. barney was engaged in a like service for the white men, and samba proved himself to be an adept at cleaning the fish which some of the men had caught in the early morning. "sure an' he'll be a treasure, sorr," said barney, as he handed mr. martindale his cup of tea and plate of broiled fish. "is the boy getting better?" "as fast as he can, sorr. 'twas want uv food more than wounds that was wrong wid him. all he really needs is a dish uv good honest murphies twice a day, and sorry i am they do not grow in this haythen counthry." it was one of barney's crosses that the only potatoes obtainable _en route_ were the sweet variety. mr. martindale rather liked them--a weakness which barney regarded with sorrow as an injustice to ireland. breakfast finished, the canoes were manned and the expedition resumed its journey. samba kept the negroes amused with his songs and chatter and clever imitations of the cries of birds and beasts. his restless eyes seemed to miss nothing of the scenes along the river. he would point to what appeared to be a log cast up on the sand and exclaim "nkoli!" and utter shrill screams: and the log would perhaps disappear, leaving no trace, or move and open a sleepy eye, and barney ejaculate, "a crocodile, by all the holy powers!" once he drew jack's attention to a greenish lizard, some eight inches long, creeping down an ant-hill towards a tiny shrew mouse. spying the enemy, the little creature darted down the slope, and took a header into the water; but the lizard came close upon its heels, sprang after it, and dragged it down into the deep. "and what do you make of this?" said jack suddenly, showing samba the amulet he had torn from the neck of the midnight marauder. the boy started, stared at the piece of bone, looked up in jack's face and exclaimed-"bokun'oka fafa!"[1] "him say belong him uncle," nando interpreted. samba spoke rapidly to nando. "him say belong berrah bad uncle on smoke-boat, sah. him say how massa get him?" jack related the incident of the night, nando translating to the boy, who listened gravely, but smiled at the end. "why does he smile?" asked jack. "he say him uncle no lib for good any more: lost medicine ring; he no fit for do bad fings any more: get cotched ebery time." "begorra, sorr, 'tis like me very own uncle tim, who niver had a day's luck after he lost the lucky sixpence given to 'm by a ginerous kind gentleman for holding a horse in sackville street whin he was a bhoy. he had always been unlucky before that, sorr, and sure the lucky sixpence would have made a rich man uv him in time; but he lost it the very same day, sorr, and had no luck at all at all." "well," said mr. martindale, laughing, "if the loss of this amulet means that the owner will never succeed in any tricks against us, i congratulate you, jack. will you wear it yourself?" "no, uncle; i'll give it to samba." but samba, when the charm was given to him, looked at it seriously for a moment, then his face broke into a beaming smile as he slipped the string about pat's neck. "mbua end' ólótsi!"[2] he cried, clapping his hands. pat barked with pleasure and licked the boy's face. "they're great chums already," remarked mr. martindale pleasantly, as he bit the end off a cigar. that evening, when the time for camping came, there was no village in sight from the river, and nando reported that the nearest lay too far from the stream to suit his employer. the banks were thickly wooded, and it appeared as if there would be some difficulty in finding a space sufficiently clear for a camp. but at last the travellers came to a spot where a stretch of level grassland ran wedge-like into the vegetation. at one end the ground rose gradually until it formed a bluff overhanging the river at a considerable height. this seemed as favourable a place as was likely to be discovered, and here the camp was pitched, the evening meal was eaten, and the travellers sought repose. the night was very dark, and deep silence brooded over the encampment--such silence as the dweller in towns can never know. not even the shriek of a nocturnal monkey or the splash of a fish pursued by a crocodile broke the stillness. every member of the party was asleep. but all at once, samba, lying just within the flap-door of barney o'dowd's tent, one arm pillowing his head, the other clasping the terrier, was disturbed by a low whine. he was awake in an instant. he had never heard pat whine; the dog barked at everything; why had he changed his manner of speech? samba got up: pat had left him and stood in the entrance to the tent; the whine had become a growl. the boy followed him, stooped and felt in the dark for his head, then lifted him in his arms and went out, laying a hand on the dog's muzzle to silence him. like other terriers, pat objected to be carried. the whine had wakened barney also; pat and he had passed many a night together. he heard the slight sound made by samba's departure, and rising, went out in his stockings to follow him. he walked a few yards in the direction he supposed samba to have taken; but it was too dark to see him, and neither boy nor dog made any further sound. barney retraced his steps, and, wandering a little from the way he had come, stumbled over the sleeping body of one of the men placed as sentinels. he gave him a kick. "get up, you varmint!" he cried. "is that the fashion uv keeping gyard?" but as soon as he had passed on the man rolled over, gave a grunt, and was fast asleep again. meanwhile samba had walked on towards the river bank, stopping at intervals to listen. he heard nothing; not even the usual nightly sounds came to him; the surrounding forest seemed asleep. but suddenly, pat became restless and uttered a rumbling growl. samba held him close and whispered to him, and the dog apparently understood, for the growl ceased. then samba caught the faint sound of paddles up-stream--a sound so familiar to him that he could not be mistaken. he crept cautiously along, up the gradual ascent, until he came near the summit of the overhanging cliff. moving stealthily to the edge he peered over; but in the blackness he could see nothing. the sound had ceased. feeling his way carefully with his bare feet, samba slowly made his way down the grassy cliff until he came near the water's edge, then crept along the bank up stream. again pat uttered his low growl, but was instantly silent in response to the boy's whispered warning. samba seemed to find his way by instinct over the uneven ground. now and again he heard a beast scurry away at his approach and rustle through the bushes or plunge into the river; but he was not afraid: there was little risk of encountering a dangerous animal, and he was too far above the sandy level to stumble upon a crocodile lying in wait. he went on steadily. it was not a native custom to move about in the dark hours, and, remembering what had happened the night before, he was intent upon discovering the business of the mysterious paddlers. after pat's last smothered growl he proceeded more cautiously than ever. at last the sound of low voices ahead made him halt. whispering again to pat, who licked his hand as if to reassure him, he set the dog down and crept forward again, bending low, and taking care, dark as it was, to avail himself of every bush for cover. to judge by the voices, a large number of men must have gathered at some point not far ahead. he drew still nearer. all at once he halted again, and laid a hand on pat's neck. among the voices he had distinguished one that he knew only too well: it was that of his uncle boloko. he stood rooted to the spot with dismay. a few minutes later his quick ears caught the sound of men moving off at right angles to the river in a direction that would enable them to skirt the cliff and come upon the sleeping camp through the forest in its rear. in a flash he saw through their scheme. bidding pat in a whisper to follow him, he turned and hurried back, climbing the face of the cliffs with a panther's surefootedness, and racing along at his top speed as soon as he came to the downward slope. with pat at his heels he dashed into barney's tent. "etumba! etumba!"[3] he exclaimed breathlessly. "ba-lofúndú bao ya!"[4] and pat chimed in with three rapid barks. [1] my father's younger brother. [2] good dog! [3] fight! (the natives' alarm signal). [4] the villains are upon us! chapter v the order of merit "bad cess to you, you young varmint!" exclaimed barney, waking with a start. "what do you say at all?" "ba-lofúndú bao ya! boloko!" "be jabers if i know what you'd be meaning. off! run! nando! and it's pitch dark it is." the boy scampered, pat still at his heels. the dog had evidently been impressed by samba's warnings, for he ran silently, without growl or bark. they came to the spot where nando lay, beneath a spreading acacia. samba shook him without ceremony. "ba-lofúndú bao ya!" he cried. "betsua! betsua!"[1] nando growled and bade him be off; but when the boy poured his story with eager excitement into the big negro's sleepy ears, nando at last bestirred himself, and hurried to mr. martindale's tent, bidding samba remain at hand. "samba him uncle, berrah bad man, come to fight," said nando breathlessly when jack came to the door of the tent. "bad man go round round, hide in trees, come like leopard. massa gone 'sleep: massa him men all lib for big sleep; boloko shoot; one, two, massa dead all same." "what, what!" said mr. martindale, flinging off his rug. "another alarm, eh?" he pressed the button of an electric torch and threw a bright light on the scene. "an attack in force this time, uncle," said jack. "some black fellows are coming to surprise us in the rear." "how many are the villains?" said mr. martindale, pulling on his trousers. "two, free, hundred, fousand." "a dozen all told, i suppose! well, we'll fight 'em." "rather risky that, uncle," said jack. "there may be more than a dozen, after all, and our men are not armed: we two couldn't do much against a hundred, say." "true. why was i such a fool? that britisher at matadi said i'd better arm my men, and i wish i'd taken his tip. we're in a tight corner, jack, if the nigger is correct. here, nando, are you sure of this?" "sartin sure, sah. me see fousand fifty black men creep, creep 'long ribber, sah: big lot guns, 'bini guns, massa, go crack, crack. come all round, sah; run like antelope: no time for massa run away." nando's face expressed mortal terror; there was no doubt he believed in the reality of the danger. "how did they come?" asked mr. martindale. "in boat, sah." "where are they?" "small small up ribber, sah." "and i suppose you've alarmed the camp?" "no, sah, no. me no tell one boy at all." "well, it looks as if we're going to be wiped out, jack. we can't fight a hundred armed men. if our fellows were armed, we might lay a trap for 'em; but we aren't strong enough for that. but perhaps if we show we're ready for 'em, and they're not going to surprise us, they may sheer off." "then why not take the offensive, uncle?" "what d'you mean?" "attack the canoes while the most of them are marching round. they'd hear our shots and bolt back, as sure as a gun." "that's slim. we'll try it. go and wake barney, jack." barney, however, was already on his way to the tent, jack explained the situation to him. "here's a revolver, barney," said mr. martindale, as the irishman came up. "you must do the best you can if there's a rush. jack and i are going right away to the river: you're in charge." barney handled the revolver gingerly. "sure i'd feel more at home wid me shillelagh!" he muttered as he went away. mr. martindale turned to the negro. "now you, nando, lead the way." the man's eyes opened wide with fear. "me plenty sick in eyes, sah," he stammered. "me only see small small. boy samba him eyes berrah fine and good, see plenty quick, massa; he show way." "i don't care who shows the way," said mr. martindale, too much preoccupied with his hunting rifle and ammunition to notice the inconsistency between nando's statement and the story he had already told. nando called to samba and told him what was required, and the party set off, the boy going ahead with pat, mr. martindale and jack following with their rifles, and nando in great trepidation bringing up the rear. mr. martindale puffed and panted as he scaled the bluff, and breathed very hard as he followed samba down the rough descent to the brink of the river. when they came to comparatively level ground they halted. "how far now?" asked mr. martindale, in a whisper. "small small, massa," replied nando. "well, jack, when we come near these precious canoes we'll fire both barrels one slick after the other, then reload." "and go at them with a rush, uncle?" "rush! how can i rush? i'm pretty well blown already. but i could fetch wind enough to shout. we'll shout, jack. nando, you'll bawl your loudest, and the boy too. if i know these niggers they'll bolt. and look here, jack, fire in the air: we don't want to hit 'em. if they stand their ground and resist, we can fire in good earnest; but they won't." they took a few cautious steps forward, then samba ran back, clutched nando by the arm and whispered-"boat dah, sah," said the negro, under his breath. "oh! me feel plenty sick inside!" "hush! howl, then, when we fire. now, jack, ready? i'll let off my two barrels first." next moment there was a flash and a crack, followed immediately by a second. nando and samba had begun to yell at the top of their voices. mr. martindale bellowed in one continuous roll, and pat added to the din by a furious barking. the noise, even to those who made it, was sufficiently startling in the deep silence of the night. jack fired his two shots, but before his uncle had reloaded there was a yell from the direction of the canoes, then the sound of men leaping on shore and crashing through the bushes. immediately afterwards faint shouts came from the forest at the rear of the bluff. "we've done the trick," said mr. martindale with a chuckle. "now we'll get back. they've had a scare. let's hope we shall have no more trouble to-night." he flashed his electric torch on the river bank below, and revealed five large canoes drawn up side by side. "there must be more than a hundred of them," he added. "each of those canoes can carry thirty men." on the way back to the camp, they heard renewed shouts as the men who had marched into the forest broke out again in a wild dash for the threatened canoes. the camp was in commotion. barney was volubly adjuring the startled natives to be aisy; but they were yelling, running this way and that, tumbling over one another in the darkness. the sight of mr. martindale's round red face behind his electric torch reassured them; and when nando, who had now quite recovered his spirits, told them that he, with the white men's assistance, had put to flight twenty thousand bad men and boloko, they laughed and slapped their thighs, and settled down in groups to discuss the event and make much of nando during the rest of the night. there was no more sleep for any of the party except samba. he, satisfied that his new friends were safe, curled himself up on his mat with the inseparable terrier, and slept until the dawn. but mr. martindale sat smoking in his tent, discussing the events of the night with his nephew. "i don't like it, jack. we're on top this time, thanks to a little bluff. but there must have been a large number of them to judge by the canoes and the yells; and but for that fellow nando we might easily have been wiped out. and from what nando says they are those villainous forest guards of the concession. what's the meaning of it? it may be that the concession have repented of their bargain and want to keep me out, or perhaps elbel is terrified lest i shall expose him when i get back to boma. either way, it seems as if we're going to have a bad time of it." "i don't think it can be elbel's doing, uncle. it's such a risky game to play, your expedition being authorized by his own people." "i don't imagine elbel is such a fool as to attack us officially. he can always disavow the actions of those natives. at any rate, i shall make a point of getting rifles for the men as soon as i can." "they can't use them." "of course they can't; but you'll have to turn yourself into a musketry instructor. meanwhile i must give that fellow nando some sort of reward. it will encourage him and the others too." when daylight broke mr. martindale went down to the river while barney was preparing breakfast. there was no trace of the enemy. presumably they had set their canoes afloat and drifted down stream in the darkness. they had no doubt reckoned on surprising the camp, and their calculations had been upset by the certainty of meeting with resistance, the fact that the travellers were poorly armed being forgotten in the panic bred of the sudden uproar in the night. after breakfast mr. martindale had the men paraded in a semicircle around the tent, and, sitting on a stool in front of it, with jack on one side and barney on the other, he called nando forward. "we are very much pleased with your watchfulness, nando." the negro grinned, and with a ludicrous air of importance translated the sentence to his comrades. "it is due to you that we were not surprised in the dark: you did very well, and set an excellent example to the men." "me plenty clebber, sah, oh yes!" "i shall take care in future to have our camp more closely guarded, and punish any carelessness. but now, to show how pleased i am with you, i am going to give you a little present." nando's mouth spread from ear to ear. he translated the announcement to the negroes, looking round upon them with an expression of triumphant satisfaction that tickled jack's sense of humour. barney had shut one eye; his lips were twitching. "but before i do that," went on mr. martindale, "i want you to tell us how you came to discover the enemy in the darkness." nando for a moment looked a little nonplussed, scratching his head and shifting from foot to foot. then inspiration seized him; he elaborately cleared his throat, snapped his fingers, crossed his arms on his brawny chest, and began-"me no get sleep, me get up and go round about, fink see if massa's fings all right. me stop, go sick inside; one, two eyes like twinkle twinkle look down out of tree." he waved his arm towards the acacia under which he had been sleeping. "me fink dis plenty bad; what for man lib for hide in tree and look at nando? me no 'fraid, no, no; me walk all same, like me no see nuffin. yah! me see all same, wait long time, man no fit for see nando. bimeby man come down like snake, creep, creep, 'long, 'long; me go too, what for? 'cos man plenty bad man, him go 'bini gun, him go into wood. what for? muss see; s'pose he go fetch bad man and shoot massa? he no come dis way 'less he lib for do bad fings. him got 'bini gun, me got spear; no good! me no 'fraid. plenty debbils in forest! me no 'fraid. massa say nando look after fings; all same: nando look after, no 'fraid, 'bini gun, debbils and all. what for? massa him nando him fader and mudder. s'pose bad men shoot; s'pose debbil come; all same: muss do what massa say, look after fings, look after massa. me no 'fraid!" again nando paused and scratched his head, looking troubled. then his face cleared; he took a deep breath and continued-"me go 'long 'long after bad man. he come to place no trees, grass all same: one, two, twenty, fousand bad men dah. bad man say 'kwa te! kwa te!'[2] dey talk, oh yes! whish! whish! same as trees when wind make talk. me get behind tree; me hab got two, four, twenty ears. me listen! dey say come, creep, creep, bring 'bini gun; white man all 'sleep; black man come, no nise, shoot: oh my gracious! white man all lib for dead! me no 'fraid!" "who was the chief of these bad men?" interrupted mr. martindale. "boloko, sah!--samba him uncle." "but how could you tell that in the dark?" "dey hab got light: one, two, twenty tiny small fire on stick." "torches, he means, i suppose," said mr. martindale. "how did you find your way back in the dark?" "yah! me know all 'bout dat. me lib long time in forest, oh yes! me fight little tiny men; dey plenty small, plenty good fighter all same; shoot one, two, free arrow; one, two, free fings gone dead. me fight dem; so me find way like leopard." "well, you're a clever fellow, and you did very well. here is a present for you." he took from his pocket a huge bone-handled penknife, and displayed its various parts one by one: four blades, a corkscrew, a file, a hook, and an awl. nando's eyes opened wide with delight; he chuckled gloatingly as one after another these treasures came to view. mr. martindale was shutting them up before handing over the knife when barney stepped quietly forward, touched his cap and said-"if you plase, sorr, before you part wid this handsome presentation, will i have yer leave to ax mr. nando wan question?" "why, you can if you like," said mr. martindale in surprise. "thank you, your honour. now mr. nando, would you plase tell us if you ate a big supper uv maniac last night?" "manioc, barney," corrected jack with a smile. "sure that's what i said, sorr! would you plase tell his honour, mr. nando?" the man looked in amazement from one to another. he seemed to suspect a pitfall, but was puzzled to make out the bearing of the question. "sure i speak plain. did ye, or did ye not, eat a big supper uv anything at all last night?" "me eat plenty little manioc," said nando, thinking he was expected to defend himself against a charge of gluttony. "me no pig like common black man." "and you did not get a pain?"--here barney helped out his meaning with pantomime--"nor dream all that terrible wild stuff you have just been telling us?" "me no can dream!" cried nando, indignantly. "me say true fings all same." "sure, thin, if your supper didn't give ye the nightmare, mine did. begorra! 'twas a mighty terrible dream i dreamt, indeed, mr. nando. i dreamt you was snoring like a pig--like a common black pig, to be sure; and there came a little spalpeen uv a black bhoy, a common black bhoy, and shook ye by the shoulder, and called 'baa! baa! bloko!' and some more i disremimber now; and thin----" nando, who had been looking more and more uneasy, here interrupted, hurriedly addressing mr. martindale-"me plenty sick inside, sah," he said, pressing his hands to the pit of his stomach. "me eat plenty too much manioc all same." crestfallen and abashed the big fellow slunk away, jack roaring with laughter, mr. martindale looking on in speechless amazement. "begorra, sorr," said barney, "'tis a born liar he is. he was fast in the arms uv murphies, or maniac, speaking by the card, till the bhoy samba woke him up. 'twas samba, sorr, that spied the enemy, and 'twas me little darlint uv a dog that gave the first alarm. give a dog his due, sorr, and if you plase, give samba the knife." mr. martindale first looked annoyed, then broke into hearty laughter. he called for samba, who came up smiling, with pat at his heels. "where's that villain nando?" cried mr. martindale. "he shall come and interpret." in response to a summons nando came from behind the crowd of natives. he had recovered his composure, and translated with glib and smiling unconcern the story which samba told. only when mr. martindale handed samba the knife did the negro look sorry. "me no lib for eat too big lot manioc nudder time," he said glumly, as he went away. [1] wake up! [2] hush! chapter vi samba is missing nando was like a child in his humours. his broad face could not long be overclouded. when the party once more embarked he performed his work as chief paddler with his usual cheerfulness. all that day the river washed the edge of a continuous forest tract--a spur, as jack understood from nando's not too lucid explanations, of the vast upper congo forest that stretched for many hundreds of miles across the heart of africa. jack gazed with great curiosity, merged sometimes in a sense of awe and mystery, at the dark impenetrable woodland. it was only a year or two since he had read stanley's account of his wonderful march through the forest, and his vivid recollection was quickened and intensified by the sight of the actual scene. "and are there pigmies in that forest--little men, you know?" he asked nando. "sartin sure, sah. me fight fousand hundred little tiny men: me no 'fraid. dey shoot plenty good, sah: one arrow shoot two free birds. dey hab berrah fine eye, sah; see what big man no can see. massa see dem some day: make massa laugh plenty much." here and there, in places where the river widened out, the travellers came upon herds of hippopotami disporting themselves in the shallows. their presence was often indicated first by strange squeals and grunts: then a huge head would be seen on the surface of the water as the beast heard the regular splash of the paddles and was provoked to investigate its cause; his jaws would open, disclosing a vast pink chasm; and having completed his long yawn, and satisfied himself that the strangers intended no harm, he would plunge his head again beneath the water, or turn clumsily to wallow in uncouth gambols with his mates. the negroes always plied their paddles more rapidly at such spots. nando told stories of hippopotami which had upset canoes out of sheer mischief, and of others which, pricked and teased by native spears, had lain in wait among the rushes and wrecked the craft of fishers returning to their homes at dusk. "me no 'fraid of little man," said nando; "me plenty much 'fraid of hippo." now and again a crocodile, disturbed in his slumbers by the splashing of the paddles or the songs of the men, would dart out of a creek and set off in furious chase; but finding the canoe a tougher morsel than he expected, would sink after a disappointed sniffing and disappear. occasionally mr. martindale or jack would take a shot at the reptiles, but they were so numerous that by and by the travellers desisted from their "potting," mr. martindale regarding it as a waste of good ammunition. the natives whom they saw at riverside villages were now sometimes suspicious, and disinclined to have any communication with the strangers. returning from interviews with them, nando reported that they had heard of the massacre at banonga, and though he assured them that his employer was no friend of the tyrants, he failed to convince them: he was a white man; that was enough. it was with some difficulty, and only after the exercise of much tact, patience, and good humour on nando's part, that he managed to secure enough food to supply the needs of the men. two days passed amid similar scenes. the journey never became monotonous, for in that wonderful land there is always something fresh to claim the traveller's attention. jack began to give samba lessons in english, and found him an apt enough pupil, though, in practising his newly-acquired words afterwards, the boy, to jack's amusement, adopted a pronounced irish accent from barney. on the morning of the third day, when the camp became active, barney was somewhat surprised to find that samba and pat did not join him as usual at breakfast. boy and dog had gone to sleep together in his tent, and he had not seen or heard their departure. breakfast was cleared away, everything was packed up in readiness for starting, and yet the missing members of the party had not appeared. both were very popular; samba's unfailing cheerfulness had made him a general favourite, and pat's sagacity, his keen sporting instincts, and the vigour of his barking when hippopotami or crocodiles came too near the canoe, won for him a good deal of admiration from the natives. "what! samba gone!" exclaimed mr. martindale, when barney told him of the disappearance. "have you called him?" "sure me throat is sore wid it, sorr," said barney, "and me lips are cracked wid whistling for pat, bad cess to 'm." "the dog has gone too, eh? i reckon samba's a thief like the rest of 'em." "begging yer pardon, sorr, it takes two to make a thief, one to steal, the other to be stolen. pat would never agree to be stolen, sorr; besides, he would never be such an ungrateful spalpeen uv a dog, not to speak uv the bad taste of it, as to desert his ould master for a nigger bhoy." "well, what's become of them, then? nando, where's samba?" "me no can tell, sah. me fink crocodile eat him, sah. little tiny black boy go walk all alone alone night time. yah! crocodile come 'long, fink black boy make plenty good chop. soosh! little black boy in ribber, crocodile eat him all up, sah. what for black boy go walk alone? one time all right, nando eat manioc[1]; nudder time all wrong, crocodile eat samba." nando shook his head sententiously; samba's exploit on the night of the alarm was evidently still rankling. "that's not it at all," said barney. "pat would niver permit any crocodile, wid all his blarney, to eat him; and if a crocodile ate samba, sure pat would have been the first to come and tell us." "no, it's your irish that has frightened the boy," said jack gravely. "i've been trying to teach him a few words of english; but i've noticed once or twice, after i've done with him, that he pronounces the words as if he'd learnt them in ireland. no decent black boy could stand that, you know, barney." "faith, 'tis irishmen that speak the best english," returned barney; "did i not hear them wid me very own ears in the house uv parlimint?" "well, jack, we must go on," said mr. martindale. "i was afraid the boy would be a botheration." "he has done us a good turn, uncle. couldn't we wait an hour or two and see if he appears?" "it's not business, jack." "my dear uncle, it's no use your posing as a hard-hearted man of business. you know you're quite fond of the boy." "eh! well, i own he's a likely little fellow, and i sort of felt he's a part of the concern; in short, jack, we'll put in an hour or two and give him a chance." an hour passed, and pat made his appearance. he trotted soberly into the camp, not frisking or barking joyously as was his wont. "arrah thin, ye spalpeen, where's samba?" cried barney as the dog came to him. pat hung his head, and put his tail between his legs and whined. "go and fetch him, then," cried barney. the terrier looked at his master, turned as if to do his bidding, then moved slowly round and whined again. "sure 'tis not devoured by a crocodile he is, or pat would be in a terrible rage. the bhoy has deserted, sorr, and pat's heart is after being broken." "well, we'll wait a little longer, barney," said mr. martindale; "he may turn up yet." the day wore itself out, and samba had not returned. mr. martindale and jack spent part of the time in shooting, adding a goodly number of wild ducks, a river hog and an antelope to the larder. part of the time they watched the men fishing, or rather harpooning, for they caught the fish by dexterous casts of their light spears. towards evening mr. martindale became seriously anxious, and a little testy. "i'm afraid a crocodile has made a meal of him, after all," he said. "i don't reckon he'd any reason for leaving us; he got good victuals." "and a good knife, uncle. perhaps he has gone to find his father." "no, i don't bank on that. too far for a young boy to go alone, through the forest, too, on foot. anyway, he's an ungrateful young wretch to go without saying a word; i've always heard these blacks don't measure up to white people in their feelings." mr. martindale delayed his departure until the middle of the next day in the hope that samba would return. then, however, he declared he could wait no longer, and the party set off. late in the afternoon of the next day they came to a spot where a gap occurred in the thick vegetation that lined the bank. here, said nando, they must land. ilola, the principal village of the chief to whom they were bound, stood a short distance from the river, and the way to it lay through the clear space between two forest belts. a quarter of an hour's walking brought them to the village, a cluster of tent-shaped grass huts almost hidden in the bush. the settlement was surrounded by a stockade, and the plantations of banana, maize, and ground-nuts showed signs of careful cultivation. nando went alone to interview the chief, bearing a present of cloth and a small copper token which mr. martindale had received from his friend barnard. the chief would recognize it as the replica of one given to him. nando returned in an hour's time, troubled in countenance. imbono the chief, he said, had refused to meet the white man, or to have any dealings with him. he well remembered the white man who had cured his son and given him the token two years before; had they not become blood brothers! but since then many things had happened. dark stories had reached his ears of the terrible consequences that followed the coming of the white man. one of his young men--his name was faraji--who had joined a party of traders carrying copper down the congo, had just come back with dreadful tales of what he himself had seen. when imbono was a boy his people had lived in terror of the white-robed men from the east.[2] there had been a great white-robed chief named tippu tib, who sent his fighting men far and wide to collect ivory and slaves. these men knew no pity; they carried destruction wherever they went, tearing children from parents, husbands from wives, chaining them together, beating them with cruel whips, strewing the land with the corpses of slaves exhausted by long marching or slain because they were ill or weak. but terrible as were the warriors of tippu tib, surely the servants of the great white chief[3] were more terrible still; for it often happened that the slave hunters, having come once, came not again; like a fierce tempest they passed; but as, when a storm has devastated a forest, new trees grow and flourish in the room of the old, so when a village had been robbed of its youth, their places were in course of time filled by other boys and girls. and even when the slave hunters came some villagers would escape, and hide in dens or among the forest trees until the danger had passed. but the servants of the great white chief were like a blight settling for ever on the land. they came, and stayed; none could escape them, none were spared, young or old. imbono feared the white man; he prayed him to go in peace; the men of ilola were peaceable, and sought not to make enemies, but they had bows and arrows, and long shields, and heavy-shafted spears, and if need be they would defend themselves against the stranger. "i guess this is kind of awkward," said mr. martindale when nando had finished his report. "you can't trade with a man who won't see you. did you explain that we don't belong to the great white chief, nando?" "me say all dat, sah; chief shake him head." "i suppose you told him our men are not armed?" "no, sah; me forgot dat, dat am de troof." "well, go back; tell the chief that i'm a friend and want to see him. say that i'll come into the village alone, or with mr. jack, and we'll leave our guns behind us. tell him the white man he saw two years ago said he was a very fine fellow, and i'll trust myself unarmed among his people, bows and arrows and spears and all." nando went away, and after another hour returned and said that imbono, after much persuasion, had agreed to receive the white man because he was a friend of his blood brother. leaving their rifles and revolvers in barney's charge, mr. martindale and jack accompanied nando to the village. the single entrance to the stockade was guarded by a throng of tall warriors with curiously painted skins, and armed with the weapons nando had described, carrying in addition knives with long leaf-shaped blades. "they ain't the daisiest of beauties," said mr. martindale as he passed them. "ugly fellows in a scrimmage," said jack. they went on, past the first huts, stared at by knots of the villagers, until they came to the chief's dwelling in the centre of the settlement. imbono was a tall, well set up, handsome negro, standing half a head taller than the men about him. he received the strangers with grave courtesy, offered them a cup of palm wine, and motioned them to two low carved stools, seating himself on a third. through nando mr. martindale explained his business, dwelling on the friendly relations which had existed between the chief and the white man, and assuring him of his peaceable intentions and of his absolute independence of the servants of the great white chief. imbono listened in silence, and made a long reply, repeating what he had already said through nando. suddenly he turned to the young man at his side, whom he called faraji, and bade him tell the white man what he had seen. "ongoko! ongoko!"[4] exclaimed the other men. faraji stepped forward and told his story, with a volubility that outran nando's powers as an interpreter, and at the same time with a seriousness that impressed his hearers. "i come from mpatu," he said. "it is not my village: my village is ilola. i passed through mpatu on my way home. it is no longer a village. why? the servants of the great white chief had come up the river. they told the people that the lords of the world, the sons of heaven, had given all the land to the great white chief. mpatu belonged no more to the chief lualu: it belonged to the great white chief. but the great white chief was a good chief; he would be a father to his people. would he take their huts, their gardens, their fowls, their children? no, he was a good chief. everything that was theirs should be left to them; and the great white chief would keep peace in the land, and men should live together as brothers. only one thing the great white chief required of them. in the forest grew a vine that yielded a milky sap. this stuff when hardened with acid from another plant would be of use to the great white chief, and he wished them to collect it for him, and bring to his servants every fourteenth day so many baskets full. every man of mpatu must bring his share. and they said too that the great white chief was just: for all this rubber they collected he would pay, in brass rods, or cloth, or salt; and seeing the great white chief was so kind and good, only a bad man would fail in the task set him, and such bad men must be punished. and two servants of the great white chief would be left in mpatu to instruct the people as to the furnishing of the rubber; and these kind teachers the men of mpatu would surely provide with food and shelter. "the men of mpatu laughed at first. well they knew the vine! was there not enough of it and to spare in the forest? how easily they could collect what was demanded! how soon would they become rich! and they set the women and children to weave new baskets for the rubber, and made ready new and well-built huts for the men who were to teach them their duty to the great white chief. "but as time went on, woe came to mpatu. the two servants of the great white chief were bad men, selfish, cruel. they stalked about the village, treating the people as their slaves; they seized the plumpest fowls and the choicest fruits; if any man resisted, they whipped him with a long whip of hippopotamus hide. "but the servants of the great white chief demanded still more. it was not only rubber the men of mpatu were bade to bring them, but so many goats, so many fowls, so many fish and cassava and bananas. how could they do it? the rubber vines near by were soon exhausted. every week the men must go farther into the forest. they had not enough time now to hunt and fish for their own families. how supply the strangers too? "grief came to mpatu! for long days there was no man in the village save the chief lualu and the forest guards. the women cowered and crouched in their huts. no longer did they take pride in tidy homes and well-tended hair; no longer sing merrily at the stream, or croon lullabies to their babes; all joy was gone from them. "some of the men fled, and with their wives and children lived in the forest, eating roots and leaves. but even flight was vain, for the forest guards tracked them, hunted them down. some they killed as soon as they found them; others they flogged, chained by the neck, and hauled to prison. there they are given heavy tasks, carrying logs and firewood, clearing the bush, cutting up rubber; and there is a guard over them with a whip which at a single blow can cut a strip from the body. many have died; they are glad to die. "and now mpatu is a waste. one day the rubber was again short; the soldiers came--they burned the huts; they killed men, women, and children; yea, among the soldiers were man-eaters, and many of mpatu's children were devoured. only a few escaped--they wander in the forest, who knows where? i tell what i have seen and heard." when faraji had finished his story, there was silence for a time. the chief seemed disposed to let the facts sink into the minds of the white men, and mr. martindale was at a loss for words. faraji's story, so significantly similar to what he had himself discovered at banonga, had deeply impressed him. were these atrocities going on throughout the congo free state? were they indeed a part of the system of government? it seemed only too probable--the rubber tax was indeed a tax of blood. and what could he say to convince imbono that he was no friend of the white men who authorized or permitted such things? how could the negro distinguish? "'pon my soul," said the american in an aside to jack, "i am ashamed of the colour of my skin." then the chief began to speak. "the white man understands why i will have nothing to do with him--why i will not allow my people to trade with him. it may be true that you, o white man, are not as these others; you may be a friend to the black man, and believe that the black man can feel pain and grief; but did not the servants of the great white chief say that they were friends of the black man? did they not say the great white chief loved us and wished to do us good? we have seen the love of the great white chief; it is the love of the crocodile for the antelope: we would have none of it. therefore i say, o white man, though i bear you no ill-will, you must go." courteously as the chief spoke, there was no mistaking his firmness. "we must go and take stock of this," said mr. martindale. "it licks me at present, jack, and that's a hard thing for an american to say. come right away." they took ceremonious leave of the chief, and were escorted to their camp at the edge of the stream. "what's to be done, my boy?" said mr. martindale. "we can't find the gold without the chief's help, unless we go prospecting at large: we might do that for months without success, and make imbono an open enemy into the bargain. we can't fight him, and i don't want to fight him. after what we've seen and heard i won't be responsible for shedding blood; seems to me the white man has done enough of that already on the congo. this is a facer, jack." "never say die, uncle. it's getting late: i vote we sleep on it. we may see a way out of the difficulty in the morning." [1] the native word for any food or meal. [2] arab slave raiders. [3] leopold ii, sovereign of the congo free state and king of the belgians. [4] yes, do so. chapter vii blood brothers but in the morning the situation appeared only more grave. provisions were threatening to run short. hitherto there had been no difficulty in procuring food from the natives met _en route_, and mr. martindale's party had carried with them only a few days' provisions, and the "extras" necessary for the white men's comfort. but now they were come to a less populous part of the country: imbono's villages were the only settlements for many miles around; and unless imbono relaxed the rigour of his boycott mr. martindale's party would soon be in want. mr. martindale was talking over matters with jack when, from the slight eminence on which the camp was pitched, they saw a canoe, manned by six paddlers, pass up stream. jack took a look at the craft through his field glass. "it's imbono, uncle," he said; "i wonder what he is up to." he followed the progress of the canoe for some distance through the glass; then, looking ahead, his eye was caught by a herd of eight or nine hippopotami disporting themselves on a reedy flat by the river bank. "what do you say, uncle? shall we go and get some hippo meat? it will relieve the drain on our stores, and nando told me the men are rather fond of it." "we'll go right away, jack. we must keep the larder full at any rate. i suppose we shall have to stalk the beasts." "i don't think so, uncle. those we saw as we came up seemed pretty bold; they've such tough hides that they've no reason to be much afraid of the native weapons." "well, we'll paddle up to them and see how we get on." a canoe was launched, and mr. martindale set off with jack, barney, and the terrier, nando and six of the men paddling. by the time they arrived opposite the feeding ground several hippos had come out from the reeds for a bath in the shallows of the river, only their heads and backs showing above the water. the rest had moved off into the thicker reeds and were hidden from sight. "one will be enough for the present," said mr. martindale. "our fellows are great gluttons, but there's enough meat in one of those beasts to last even them a couple of days; and we don't want it to go high!" "let us both aim at the nearest," suggested jack. "fire together, uncle: bet you i bag him." "i guess i won't take you, and betting's a fool's trick anyway. we'll aim at the nearest, as you say; are you ready?" two shots rang out as one. but apparently there had been a difference of opinion as to which of the animals was the nearest. one of them disappeared; another, with a wild roar of pain and rage, plunged into the reeds; the rest sank below the surface. nando, knowing the ways of hippopotami, began to paddle with frantic vigour, and set the canoe going at a rapid pace down stream, much to the indignation of pat, who stood with his forefeet on the side of the canoe, barking fiercely. half a minute later a head appeared above the surface some fifty yards behind; then another and another: but the beasts seemed to have recovered from the alarm, for after a long cow-like stare at the receding canoe, they turned and swam ashore, to rejoin their companions in the reeds. "easy all!" said mr. martindale. "we'll give 'em a quarter of an hour to settle down, then we'll go back. what about your bet, eh, jack?" "it's your hippo, uncle, no doubt of that," said jack with a rueful smile. "an awful fluke, though; you didn't hit once to my twice coming up stream." "a fluke, was it? i kind o' notice that when you young fellows make a good shot or pull off a good stroke at billiards or anything else, it's real good play; whereas an old boy like me can only do anything decent by a fluke." "well, you've lost him, anyway. the hippo hasn't come up." "too cocksure, my boy; he's only just below the surface." the beast mortally wounded by mr. martindale's rifle was lying in shallow water. pat could no longer restrain himself. he leapt overboard and swam towards the hippo, barking with excitement, and becoming frantic when he found that it was just out of his reach. in his eagerness to attack the animal he even made an attempt to dive, so comical that all on board the canoe were convulsed with laughter. being paddled to the spot, mr. martindale found that the beast was quite dead. "now what are we to do with him?" said mr. martindale. "shall we go back and send a party to cut him up?" "no, no, sah," said nando instantly. "tie rope; pull, pull; hippo he come 'long all behind." "tow him, eh? very well. i allow that'll save time." a rope was fastened firmly about the beast's neck and jaws; the other end was fixed to the canoe; and the men began to paddle down stream, towing the hippo. the tendency of the animal being to sink, the canoe seemed to jack to be dangerously low in the water at the stern. but they had only a part of the usual complement of men on board, and the paddlers were among the most skilful on the congo. they had gone but a few strokes when jack, glancing back, caught sight of imbono's canoe returning. like mr. martindale's it was keeping fairly close to the bank. all at once a great shout of alarm broke from the chief's paddlers; their easy swing was quickened to desperate exertion, and they pulled out violently towards the middle of the stream. "by jove! uncle, a hippo's after them," cried jack. just astern of the chief's canoe, between it and the shore, a huge hippopotamus, with jaws distended, showing his gleaming tusks, was swimming along in pursuit. for a little he gained, and jack's pulse beat more quickly with excitement as he saw that the enraged beast was not more than half a dozen yards from the canoe. but the gap widened as soon as the six strong paddlers had settled down to their quickened stroke. imbono, sitting in the stern, had caught sight of the white men as his canoe cut for a few moments across the current, and with the natural vanity of the negro he began to show off. at a word from him one of the crew dropped his paddle, and, catching up a spear, hurled it at the pursuing hippo. there was a hoarse bellow from the animal, and a wild cheer from the men; the shaft of the spear was seen standing almost perpendicularly above the hippo's shoulder. with fierce exertion the beast increased his pace, and the gap momentarily diminished; but the negro resumed his paddle, and again the canoe drew away. as the canoe came almost level with the towed hippo at a considerable distance towards mid-stream, imbono ordered the same manoeuvre to be repeated. but fortune doubly befriended the pursuing animal. just as the negro was poising his spear, a submerged tree stopped the canoe with a sudden jerk; the man lost his balance and fell overboard; half of the crew followed him into the water, the rest tumbled over one another into the bottom of the canoe. imbono had been thrown backward as the vessel struck the snag. he had barely time to rise and plunge into the water when there was a hideous crackling sound; the stern of the canoe was caught between the hippo's gaping jaws and crunched to splinters. the consequences of the chief's temerity would have been amusing but for his manifest danger. the negroes were swimming in all directions, keeping as much as possible under water to escape the eyes of the hippo; but imbono, an older man than the rest, was not so expert a swimmer, and jack saw with concern that the hippo, leaving the sinking canoe, was making straight for the chief. a hippopotamus may be distanced by a canoe, but not by a man swimming. imbono did not look behind, but seemed to know instinctively that death was within a few yards of him, and he struck out more and more desperately for the bank. at the moment when the canoe struck the snag, jack had seized his rifle; but after the catastrophe, canoe, hippo, and swimming natives were so intermingled that he could not venture a shot at the beast without the risk of hitting a man. the hippo's huge body provided a target sufficiently broad, indeed; but jack knew that to strike it anywhere save at a vital spot would merely add to the beast's rage and make it doubly formidable to the men in the water. when he saw the plight of the chief, however, the great head now only a couple of yards behind him, the jaws already opening, disclosing the vast red chasm flanked by gleaming tusks and molars--when jack saw imbono thus in the very article of peril, he could no longer hesitate. the canoe was already at rest. bidding nando keep it steady, jack raised his rifle to his shoulder and took careful aim. the chief was gasping for breath after a vain attempt to dodge the beast by diving; the horrid jaws were just about to snap, when a shot rang out. a squealing grunt came from the closing gullet; the uncouth actions of the beast ceased; and he began to sink slowly and silently beneath the surface. "a1!" ejaculated mr. martindale. "that makes up for your miss, jack." "oka mö!"[1] shouted the negroes. imbono's men had gained the bank, but the chief himself, overcome more by his fright than his exertions, seemed unable to swim any farther. "quick, haul him in, jack," said mr. martindale. "there may be a crocodile after him next!" a few strokes of the paddles brought the canoe within reach of the chief. laughing heartily--the negro's laugh is always very near the surface--nando and a comrade hoisted imbono into the canoe. "me tell imbono he oughter die of shame," said nando gravely. "what on earth for?" asked mr. martindale. "what for, sah! has he not made big puddle in massa's canoe? he plenty much wet, sah." "well, he couldn't help that. tell him we're glad he came off so well. you need not say anything about the puddle." but nando had his own views as to the proper thing to do. as he spoke the chief glanced at the pool of water that had flowed from his body, and replied in a tone that was clearly apologetic. "he say he die with shame him so wet, sah," said nando. "him no do it no more. say he praise de young inglesa for shooting de hippo; say he gib massa de hippo and manioc and bananas and anyfing whatever dat massa like. say he want massa and young massa to be blood brudder. me say berrah good; tell him oughter had sense before." "that's all right. we'll accept supplies with pleasure, and pay for them. the hippo is mr. jack's already, of course. as for becoming his blood brothers, i don't just know right off what that means; but if it'll please him, and doesn't mean any nastiness, we'll think it over." the canoe, towing mr. martindale's hippo, was rapidly paddled down stream to the encampment, the second beast being left to drift slowly down the river until, in the course of some hours, it should finally rise to the surface. on landing the chief renewed his protestations of gratitude, then went off to the village, to polish himself up, said nando, and replace his ruined headdress, a curious structure of cloth and feathers stuck on to the chignon into which his hair was gathered. mr. martindale sent back another canoe to find and tow down the dead hippo. when it was hauled up on the low sandy bank, jack and his uncle went down to examine it. "you said i missed, uncle," cried jack. "what do you make of this?" he pointed to a furrow ploughed across the full breadth of the beast's forehead. "nothing but a bullet did that, i know. my shot must have hit him, but didn't enter the skull. i suppose he hid in the reeds, and vented his fury on the chief. he happened to have a harder skull than your hippo, uncle; you see it was a fluke after all." mr. martindale slowly cut and lighted a cigar. not until he had watched a big cloud of smoke float across the river did he speak. then he said quietly-"just so!" somehow jack felt that he had not the better of the argument. before the sun went down, a group of men came from ilola staggering under loads of grain and fruit, a quantity large enough to supply the camp for several days. that night the men had a royal feast, consuming so many hippo steaks that barney professed himself indignant. "bedad! 'tis greedy scoundhrels they are," he said, "wheniver me mother gave us bhoys a stew--and 'twas not often, ye may be sure, meat being the price it was--'twas wan tiny morsel uv mutton, and a powerful lot uv murphies: she said too much meat would spoil our complexion and ruin our tempers. and begorra! isn't it meself that proves it!" mr. martindale laughed at barney's logic. "i'm not afraid of the niggers' complexions or their tempers," he said; "i only hope they won't keep up that hullabaloo all night and spoil our sleep." the men were indeed very uproarious, and remained around their fires for the greater part of the night, recounting for the hundredth time the exciting events of the day, and composing on the spot songs in praise of the young white man whose fire-stick had slain the terror of the river. one of these songs seemed especially to strike their fancy, and it remained a favourite for many days:- happy imbono! oh! oh! imbono! who saved imbono? the good stranger! the young stranger! the brave stranger! good jacko! young jacko! brave jacko! he came to ilola! happy ilola! lucky ilola! he saved imbono from five hippos, from ten hippos! lucky imbono! happy imbono! oh! oh! imbono! next morning, as soon as it was light, imbono came to pay a visit of ceremony. he had got himself up most elaborately for the occasion. a strip of yellow cotton was wound about his waist. his arms were covered with polished brass rings, and copper rings weighing at least ten pounds each encircled his wrists and ankles. a new headdress decked his hair; and he must have kept his barber busy half the night in arranging his top-knot and painting his face with red camwood and white clay. pat by no means approved of the change, and barked at him furiously. "whisht, ye spalpeen!" said barney, calling off the excited dog. "sure 'tis only his sunday clothes!" surrounded by a group of his young men, who were again loaded with offerings of food, the chief began a long speech, which was by no means abridged in nando's translation. he related the incident of the previous day, omitting none of the most insignificant details, accounting, as it appeared, for every tooth in the jaws of the huge animal from which he had been saved. he went on to say that in gratitude to the white man he had changed his mind. no longer would he withhold food; his young men even now had their hands full of the best products of ilola. no longer would he refuse his friendship; he would even show the white man the place where the yellow metal was to be found--on one condition, that the white man would become his blood brother. imbono and the white men would then be friends for ever. "well, i'll be very glad to be friends with the chief," said mr. martindale, "and i'm right down obliged to him for agreeing to show me the location of the gold. and what's this blood brother business anyway? i don't size up to that without knowing something about it, you bet." "me tell all 'bout it, sah. imbono hab got knife; he come scratch, scratch massa his arm; den blood come, just little tiny drop, oh yes! den imbono he lick massa him blood. massa he hab got knife too: he scratch imbono him arm all same, lick imbono him blood. me fink massa not like black man him blood--not berrah berrah much. den massa gib imbono little tiny present--knife, like knife samba stole from nando; imbono gib massa fowl, or brass ring, or anyfing massa like. den massa and imbono dey be blood brudder, be friends for eber and eber amen." "well, i guess the blood business sounds rather disgusting. what do you think, jack?" jack made a grimace. "couldn't we leave all the licking to him, uncle?" here nando broke in. "me fink massa not like black blood. all same, i show de way. massa hold imbono him arm tight, berrah tight, pretend to lick, get little drop of blood on hand; dat nuff; imbono pleased." "if he's satisfied with that i'm willing, so fire away." the chief beamed when he learnt that the white man had given his consent. the ceremony was quickly performed. then imbono handed them each a copper ring, and received in return a pinch of salt from mr. martindale and a lucifer match from jack, nando assuring them that no more acceptable presents could have been thought of. imbono recited a sort of chant, which was explained to mean that he, his sons, his friends, the men of ilola, from that time forth and for evermore would be the true friends of the white men; everything he had was theirs. with a suitable reply from mr. martindale and jack the ceremony ended. jack noticed when the chief had gone that nando's face wore a somewhat woebegone look. "what's the matter, nando?" he asked. "nando berrah sick, sah. imbono hab got present, massa hab got present, little massa hab got present all same; nando hab got no present, no nuffin. dat make nando sick. samba hab got nando him knife: what for nando no hab nuffin at all?" "seems to me he wants a commission on the transaction," said mr. martindale with a smile. "give him something, jack; he's not a bad sort." "i've got a lucky sixpence, uncle; he can string that round his neck. here you are, nando." the negro took the coin with delight. "bolotsi o!" he exclaimed. "nando no sick no more. him plenty comfy inside. all jolly nice now sah: oh yes!" [1] bully for you! chapter viii jack in command "we've come out of that better than i expected," said mr. martindale, when the chief had gone. "i only hope our new brother won't carry his affection too far. if he keeps piling in food in this way, our fellows will wax fat and kick." "you'll have to give him a hint, uncle. proverbs are mostly old-fashioned rubbish, but there's one that would suit him: 'enough is as good as a feast.'" "which no nigger would believe. now i wonder when he will take us to find this ore. the sooner the better, although i calculate he doesn't know the value of time." imbono returned in the course of the afternoon, and said that he would be ready to conduct the white men to the gold region next day. but he stipulated that only his new brothers should accompany him. to this condition no one objected but nando, who appeared to regard it as a personal slight. "berrah well, berrah well," he said, his tone suggesting that he washed his hands of the business. "nando no go, massa no can say nuffin to imbono. berrah well; all same." immediately after breakfast next morning the two set off in imbono's company, jack carried a prospector's pan for washing the soil, mr. martindale having declared that he didn't expect to find nuggets lying around. they also carried enough food for the day. imbono struck off due west from the village; then, when well out of sight, he made a detour, and passing through a couple of miles of dense forest, entered a broken hilly country, which to mr. martindale's experienced eye showed many traces of volcanic disturbance. at last, forcing their way through a belt of tangled copse, with many scratches from prickly sprays, they came upon a deep gully, at the bottom of which ran a stream of brownish water, now some twenty feet in breadth. that it was much broader at certain seasons was shown by the wide edging of sand and pebbles at each side. the chief came to a halt at the edge of the gully, and pointing up and down the stream, said something in his own language. mr. martindale nodded his head, but said to jack-"i suppose he means we're right there. why on earth could not he let nando come and do the translating?" "show him your watch, uncle!" at the sight of the watch imbono nodded his head rapidly and ejaculated what was clearly an affirmative. then he led the way down the rocky side of the gully, the others scrambling after him. on reaching the sandy strand mr. martindale bent down and eagerly examined it. taking some of the sand and pebbles in his hand, he stuck a magnifying glass in his eye and picked them over carefully. "looks promising, jack," he said, with the enthusiasm of an old miner. "there are little granules of quartz mixed up with the sand, and a particle or two of iron. but that don't prove there's gold. we'll just try a little experiment." he emptied a few handfuls of the soil into the pan, filled this with water from the stream, and moved the pan to and fro so as to give the water a concentric motion, jack and the chief watching him with equal interest. every now and then mr. martindale would cant off a little of the water, which carried off some of the lighter sand with it. "what you may call a process of elimination or reduction," he said. "_reductio ad absurdum_, uncle?" "i hope not. guess you're smartening up, jack." "call it survival of the fittest, then." "of the thickest, i'd say. this washing carries off the useless light sand, and leaves the heavy stuff behind, and it's in that we'll find gold if at all." after nearly half an hour's patient manipulation of the pan, there was left in the bottom a blackish powder and some coarse grains of quartz, with just enough water to cover them. "look at that, my boy," said mr. martindale. "first time you've seen anything of that sort, i guess." "but where's the gold, uncle?" "that's what remains to be seen--perhaps. keep your eye on that groove as i tilt the pan round. the black stuff is iron-stone; you needn't trouble about that. see if it leaves anything else." he gently tilted the pan so that the water slowly flowed round the groove, carrying with it the quartz grains and the powder. jack watched narrowly. after the contents of the pan had made the circuit two or three times he suddenly exclaimed-"there's a sort of glitter left behind the powder, uncle." "i reckon that's enough," said mr. martindale, setting down the pan. "we've hit it, jack." jack could not refrain from giving a cheer. the chief, who had but half approved the proceedings at the beginning, caught the infection of the lad's enthusiasm, and snapped his fingers and slapped his thighs vigorously. "we'll have another look higher up," said mr. martindale. "one swallow don't make a summer--another piece of what you call antiquated rubbish, jack. there's gold here, that's certain; but i don't know whether it's rich enough to be worth working." they walked for half a mile up the stream, and mr. martindale went through the same process with the soil there. he was again rewarded. this time, however, the trace of gold was more distinct. "jack, my boy," he said, "there's a small fortune in the bed of the stream alone. but i'm not satisfied yet. it's up to us now to discover the mother lode. to judge by the size of the stream it can't be far off. the botheration is we can't talk to the chief, and i say it's most unbrotherly to refuse us the advantage of an interpreter." "well, we've plenty of time, uncle. i vote we have our lunch and then go on again." they sat down on boulders at the edge of the river and ate the manioc cakes and bananas with which barney had provided them. imbono seemed pleased when he was invited to share their lunch. going into the forest, he returned with a large leaf which he shaped like a cup, and in this he brought water from the stream for the white men. after lunch they followed up the stream. at intervals mr. martindale stopped to test the gravel, and found always some trace of gold, now slight, now plentiful. some three miles up they came to a confluence. the stream was joined by a smaller swifter one, which evidently took its rise in the steep hilly country now becoming visible through the trees. "we'll try this, jack." "why?" "because the bed's more gravelly than the other. i guess the big stream comes out of the forest somewhere; the other will suit our book best." they found their progress becoming more and more difficult. the ground was more rocky, the sides of the gully were steeper, and the edging of dry gravel diminished until by and by it disappeared altogether, and the prospectors had to take off their boots and socks and wade. there were trees and bushes here and there on the sides and at the top of the gully, but the vegetation became more and more scanty as they ascended. presently the sound of falling water struck upon their ears, and a sudden turn of the stream brought them into full view of a cataract. at this point the gully had widened out, and the water fell over a broad smooth ledge of rock, dashing on the stones after a descent of some fifty or sixty feet. "that's fine!" exclaimed jack, halting to watch the cascade sparkling in the sunlight, and the brownish white foam eddying at the foot. "grand!" assented mr. martindale. "there's enough water power there to save many a thousand dollars' worth of machinery." "i was thinking of the scenery, not machinery, uncle," said jack, with a laugh. "scenery! why, i've got a lot finer waterfall than that on my dining-room wall. it isn't niagara one way or t'other, but it'll do a lot of mill grinding all the same. now, jack, you're younger than i am. i want to see what there is by those rocks ten feet away from the bottom of the fall. strip, my boy; a bath will do you a power of good, a hot day like this; and there are no crocodiles here to make you feel jumpy." jack stripped and was soon waist deep in the water. reaching the spot his uncle had indicated, he stooped, and found that he could just touch the bottom without immersing himself. the water was too frothy for the bottom to be seen; he groped along it with his hands, bringing up every now and then a small fragment of quartz or a handful of gravel, which mr. martindale, after inspecting it from a distance, told him to throw in again. at last, when he was getting somewhat tired of this apparently useless performance, he brought up a handful of stones, not to as eyes differing from what he had seen for the past half hour. he spread them out for his uncle, now only two or three yards away, to examine. "i guess you can put on your clothes now," said mr. martindale. "why, hang it, man! you've thrown it away!" jack had pitched the stones back into the water. "i thought you'd done, uncle," he said. "so i have, and you're done too--done brown. d'you know you've thrown away a nugget worth i don't know how many dollars?" "you didn't tell me what you were after," said jack, somewhat nettled. "i couldn't be expected to know you were hunting for nuggets." "no, you couldn't be expected: and that's just exactly what i brought you over to america for. when you've had the kind of smartening up i mean you to have, you won't talk about what's expected or not expected; you'll just figure it out that there's some reason in everything, and you'll use your own share of reason accordingly." "all right, uncle," replied jack good-humouredly. "i might have put two and two together, perhaps. at school, you see, they liked us to do as we were told without arguing. 'theirs not to reason why'--you know. shall i fish for that nugget?" "not worth while. a few dollars more or less are neither here nor there. i know what i want to know, and now i think we'd better be getting. put your clothes on. our brother imbono has several times anxiously pointed to the sun. he evidently isn't comfortable at the idea of being benighted in these regions." screwing some of the sifted gravel into a bag of leaves, mr. martindale signed to the chief that he was ready to return. they reached the camp just as the sun was setting. in honour of the recent discovery, mr. martindale invited the chief to supper, and gave him a regale which astonished him. to see the white man bring peaches out of a closed pot made imbono open his eyes; but the sensation of the evening was furnished by a bottle of soda water. when the stopper was loosed and the liquid spurted over, the chief shrank back in amazement, uttering a startled cry. nando, not skilled in european politeness, guffawed uproariously. "him say debbil water, sah. yah! yah!" nothing would induce imbono to drink the stuff. but he took kindly to tea, and being prevailed on to try a pinch of snuff, he laughed heartily when the paroxysm of sneezing was over, and asked for more. "him say like laugh-cry dust plenty much," said nando. when the chief had eaten his fill, mr. martindale, with considerable diplomacy, explained that the discovery of gold was of little use to him unless he could take men to the spot, and desired the withdrawal of the prohibition. nando took a long time to convey this to imbono, and jack suspected that he was making somewhat lavish promises in the nature of _quid pro quo_. imbono at length agreed to the white man's request, provided none of the workers he wished to take with him were servants of the great white chief. he consented also to lead him back to the cataract next day, so that he might complete his search for the gold-bearing rocks. on this second journey mr. martindale and jack were accompanied by two of their negroes with picks. on arriving at the spot the men were set to break away portions of the rocky wall on the left of the cataract. "you see, jack," said mr. martindale, "the fact that we found gold in the stream shows that it is still being washed down by the water; otherwise it would have been swept away or buried long ago. the rock must be of a soft kind that offers comparatively little resistance to the water, and i'm rather inclined to think that not so very many years ago the cataract was a good deal farther forward than it is now. well, the gold-bearing stratum must run right through the cataract, horizontally i suspect. it may not be a broad one, but it will probably extend some distance on each side of the fall, and a few hours' work ought to prove it." as the rock fell away under the negroes' picks, mr. martindale and jack carefully washed samples of it. in less than an hour the glittering trail shone out clear in the wake of the granules of rock as they slid round the groove. "so much for the first part of our job," said mr. martindale, with a quiet sigh of satisfaction. "the next thing is to see if the gold extends above the cataract." under imbono's guidance the party made their way by a detour to the river banks above the falls. after a search of some hours mr. martindale declared himself satisfied that the lode was confined to the rocks over which the water poured. "we can't do much more for the present," he said. "the next thing is to get machinery for working the ore. we'll have to go back to boma. we can probably get simple materials for working the alluvial deposits there, but the machinery for crushing the ore must be got from europe, and that'll take time. we'll pack up and start to-morrow." but after breakfast next morning, when mr. martindale had lighted his morning cigar, he startled jack by saying suddenly-"say, jack, how would you like to be left here with barney and some of the men while i go back to boma?" "what a jolly lark!" said jack, flushing with pleasure. "humph! that's a fool's speech, or a schoolboy's, which often comes to the same thing. i'm not thinking of larks, or gulls, or geese, but of serious business." "sorry, uncle. that's only my way of saying i should like it immensely." "i've been turning it over in the night. i want to make a man of you, jack; i want to see if there's any grit in you. there ought to be, if you're your mother's boy. anyway this will give you a chance. things are this way. we've struck a fortune here. well, i'm an old miner, and i don't allow anybody to jump my claim. i don't reckon any one is likely to jump it; still, you never know. that fellow elbel, now; he's an official of the belgian company, and he knows what i'm here for. he might take it into his head to steal a march on me, and though i've got the mining monopoly for all this district, you bet that won't be much of a protection of my claim all these miles from civilization. so it's advisable to have a man on the spot, and it's either you or me. you don't know anything about mining machinery, so i guess it's no good sending you to boma. consequently, you must stay here." "i'm jolly glad of the chance, uncle. i'll look after your claim." "spoiling for a fight, eh? but we mustn't have any fighting. mind you, all this is only speculation--foresight, prudence, call it what you like. i don't calculate on any one trying to do me out of my rights. and if any one tries to jump my claim, it won't do for you to make a fool of yourself by trying to oppose 'em by force. all you can do is to sit tight and keep an eye on things till i get back. i don't know i'm doing right to leave you: you're the only nephew i've got, and you can't raise nephews as you raise pumpkins. but i thought it all out while you were snoring, and i've made up my mind to give it a trial. patience and tact, that's what you want. you've got 'em, or you haven't. if you have, i reckon it's all right: if you haven't----" "your cigar has gone out, dear old man," said jack, laying his hand on his uncle's. "so it has. i'll try another. well, that's settled, eh? i'll be as quick as i can, jack: no doubt i'll find a launch when i reach the congo, or even before if elbel's boss at makua likes to make himself pleasant. but i've no doubt elbel has coloured up our little meeting in his report to headquarters. anyhow, i should be right back in two or three months--not so very long after all. i'll forward some rifles and ammunition from the first station where i can get 'em: the sale of arms is prohibited in this state, of course; but that isn't the only law, by all accounts, that's a dead letter here, and i don't doubt a little palm-oil will help me to fix up all i want. you'll have to teach the men how to use 'em, and remember, they're only for self-defence in the last extremity. see?" "i'll be careful, uncle. it's lucky we've a friend in imbono. i think we'll get along first-rate. nando can do the interpreting till i learn something of the language." "jingo! i'd forgotten nando. that's a poser, jack. i shall want him to pilot me down to boma. i can't get along without an interpreter. that's a nailer on our little scheme, my boy; for of course you can't stay here without some one to pass your orders to the men." jack looked very crestfallen. the prospect of being left in charge was very delightful to him, and he had already been resolving to show himself worthy of his uncle's trust. the thing he had regretted most in leaving rugby was that he would never be in the sixth and a "power." he did not shrink from responsibility; and it was hard to have his hopes of an independent command dashed at the moment of opportunity. suddenly an idea occurred to him. "are you sure none of the other men know enough english to serve my turn?" he said. "nando said not a man jack of 'em knows it but himself. i'll call him up and ask him again." nando came up all smiles in answer to the call. "you told me that none of the men speak english but yourself," said mr. martindale; "is that true?" "too plenty much true, sah. me speak troof all same, sah." "that's unfortunate. we're going back to boma. i wanted to leave mr. jack here, but i can't do that unless he has some one to do the talking for him. go and get the things packed up, nando." the negro departed with alacrity. but not five minutes later he returned, accompanied by a negro a little shorter than himself, but otherwise showing a strong resemblance. both were grinning broadly. "my brudder, sah," said nando, patting the younger man on the shoulder. "he berrah fine chap. him lepoko. speak inglesa; berrah clebber. nando go with big massa, lepoko stay with little massa; oh yes! all too fine and jolly." "lepoko speaks english, does he?" said mr. martindale. "then you're a liar, nando!" "no, sah, me no tell lies, not at all. lepoko no speak inglesa all de time, sah. what for two speak inglesa one time? too much nise, massa no can hear what nando say. nando go, all same; massa muss hab some one can talk. berrah well; den lepoko hab go; can talk all right. he show massa what can do." "one, two, free, forty, hundred fousand," began lepoko glibly. "ten little nigger boys. what de good of anyfink? way down de swannee ribber----" "that'll do, that'll do!" cried mr. martindale, laughing. "you've got your interpreter, jack. nando, get ready to start. bring nine men with you, the rest will stay with mr. jack. the fellow was hankering after the flesh-pots of boma, i suppose," he added, when nando had gone, "and that accounts for his sudden discovery of his brother's eloquence--too jealous of his own importance to give it away before. now there's barney, jack. i don't know how he'll take being left here." barney took it very well. when mr. martindale mentioned that he would be absent for at least two months, he remarked-"bedad, sorr, i'll be getting fat at last. imbono sent another heap of maniac this morning, and seeing that i'll have nothing whativer to do for two months, sure i'll be a different man entirely by the time you come back." an hour later the shore was crowded with natives come to bid the white man farewell. imbono was there with all the men of his village. at his final interview with mr. martindale he had promised to watch carefully over the welfare of his young blood brother; he would supply him and his men with food, and defend him from wild beasts and aggressive black men, and his villagers should at once set about building new huts for the party. "remember, jack, patience--and tact. god bless you, my boy." "good-bye, uncle. hope you'll have a pleasant journey. and on the way down keep an eye lifting for samba." then the ten natives struck the water with their paddles, the canoe glided down the stream, and as it disappeared round a bend of the river jack heard the men's voices uplifted in a new song composed for the occasion. "what are they singing, lepoko?" he asked of his new interpreter. "me tell massa. "down brown ribber, broad brown ribber, white man go in canoe. good-bye, ilola, good-bye, imbono, good-bye, jacko, brave jacko, young jacko. he save imbono, lucky imbono; down brown ribber white man go." chapter ix samba meets the little men samba had cheerfully accompanied mr. martindale's expedition, in the confidence that one of its principal objects, if not indeed its main one, was the discovery of his parents. nando had told him, on the ruins of banonga, that the white man would help him in his search, and the white man had treated him so kindly that he believed what nando said. but as the days passed and the canoes went farther and farther up stream, miles away from banonga, the boy began to be uneasy. more than once he reminded nando of his promise, only to be put off with excuses: the white man was a very big chief, and such a trifling matter as the whereabouts of a black boy's father and mother could not be expected to engage him until his own business was completed. samba became more and more restless. he wished he could open the matter himself to the white men; but the few words of english he had picked up from jack and barney were as useless to him as any schoolboy's french. jack often wondered why there was so wistful a look upon the boy's face as he followed him about, much as pat followed samba. he spoke to nando about it, but nando only laughed. samba began to distrust nando. what if the man's assurances were false, and there had never been any intention of seeking his father? the white men had been kind to him; they gave him good food; he was pleased with the knife presented to him as a reward for his watchfulness; but all these were small things beside the fact that his parents were lost to him. had the white men no fathers? he wondered. at length he came to a great resolution. if they would not help him, he must help himself. he would slip away one night and set off in search. he well knew that in cutting himself adrift from the expedition many days' journey from his old home he was exchanging ease and plenty for certain hardship and many dangers known and unknown. the forest in the neighbourhood of banonga was as a playground to him; but he could not know what awaited him in a country so remote as this. he had never been more than half a day's journey from home, but he had heard of unfriendly tribes who might kill him, or at best keep him enslaved. and the white men of bula matadi--did not they sometimes seize black boys, and make them soldiers or serfs? yet all these perils must be faced: samba loved his parents, and in his case love cast out fear. one morning, very early, when every one in the camp was occupied with the first duties of the day, samba stole away. his own treasured knife was slung by a cord about his neck; he carried on his hip, negro-fashion, a discarded biscuit tin which he had filled with food saved from his meals of the previous day; and mr. martindale's knife dangled from his waist cord. it was easy to slip away unseen; the camp was surrounded by trees, and within a minute he was out of sight. he guessed that an hour or two would pass before his absence was discovered, and then pursuit would be vain. but he had not gone far when he heard a joyous bark behind him, and pat came bounding along, leaping up at him, looking up in his face, as if to say: "you are going a-hunting: i will come too, and we will enjoy ourselves." samba stopped, and knelt down and put his arms about the dog's neck. should he take him? the temptation was great: pat and he were staunch friends; they understood each other, and the dog would be excellent company in the forest. but samba reflected. pat did not belong to him, and he had never stolen anything in his life. the dog's master had been good to him: it would be unkind to rob him. and pat was a fighter: he was as brave as samba himself, but a great deal more noisy and much less discreet. samba knew the ways of the forest; it was wise to avoid the dangerous beasts, to match their stealth with stealth; pat would attack them, and certainly come off worst. no, pat must go back. so samba patted him, rubbed his head on the dog's rough coat, let pat lick his face, and talked to him seriously. then he got up and pointed towards the camp and clapped his hands, and when pat showed a disposition still to follow him, he waved his arms and spoke to him again. pat understood; he halted and watched the boy till he disappeared among the trees; then, giving one low whine, he trotted back with his tail sorrowfully lowered. samba went on. he had come to the river, but he meant to avoid it now. the river wound this way and that: the journey overland would be shorter. he might be sought for along the bank; but in the forest wilds he would at least be safe from pursuit, whatever other dangers he might encounter. at intervals along the bank, too, lay many villages: and samba was less afraid of beasts than of men. so, choosing by the instinct which every forest man seems to possess a direction that would lead towards his distant village, he went on with lithe and springy gait, humming an old song his grandfather mirambo had taught him. his path at first led through a grassy country, with trees and bush in plenty, yet not so thick but that the sunlight came freely through the foliage, making many shining circles on the ground. but after about two hours the forest thickened; the sunlit spaces became fewer, the undergrowth more and more tangled. at midday he sat down by the edge of a trickling stream to eat his dinner of manioc, then set off again. the forest was now denser than anything to which he had been accustomed near banonga, and he went more warily, his eyes keen to mark the tracks of animals, his ears alive to catch every sound. he noticed here the scratches of a leopard on a tree trunk, there the trampled undergrowth where an elephant had passed; but he saw no living creature save a few snakes and lizards, and once a hare that scurried across his path as he approached. he knew that in the forest it is night that brings danger. the forest became ever thicker, and as evening drew on it grew dark and chill. the ground was soft with layers of rotted foliage, the air heavy with the musty smell of vegetation in decay. samba's teeth chattered with the cold, and he could not help longing for barney's cosy hut and the warm companionship of the terrier. it was time to sleep. could he venture to build a fire? the smoke might attract men, but he had seen no signs of human habitation. it would at any rate repel insects and beasts. yes--he would build a fire. first he sought for a tree with a broad overhanging branch on which he could perch himself for the night. then he made a wide circuit to assure himself that there were no enemies near at hand. in the course of his round he came to a narrow clearing where an outcrop of rock had prevented vegetation, and on the edges of this he found sufficient dry brushwood to make his fire. collecting an armful, he carried it unerringly to his chosen tree, heaped it below the hospitable branch, and with his knife whittled a hard dry stick to a sharp point. he selected then a square lump of wood, cut a little hollow in it, and, holding his pointed stick upright in the hollow, whirled it about rapidly between his hands until first smoke then a spark appeared. having kindled his fire he banked it down with damp moss he found hard by, so as to prevent it from blazing too high and endangering his tree or attracting attention. then he climbed up into the branch; there he would be safest from prowling beasts. the acrid smoke rose from the fire beneath and enveloped him, but it gave him no discomfort, rather a feeling of "homeness" and well-being; such had been the accompaniment of sleep all his life long in his father's hut at banonga. curled up on that low bough he slept through the long hours--a dreamless sleep, undisturbed by the bark of hyenas, the squeal of monkeys, or the wail of tiger-cats. when he awoke he was stiff and cold. it was still dark, but even at midday the sun can but feebly light the thickest parts of the congo forest. the fire had gone out; but samba did not venture to leave his perch until the glimmer of dawn, pale though it was, gave him light enough to see by. he was ravenously hungry, and did not spare the food left in his tin; many a time he had found food in the forest near his home, and now that he felt well and strong, no fear of starvation troubled him. having finished his simple breakfast, he slung the empty can over his hip and set off on his journey. for two days he tramped on and on, plucking here the red berries of the phrynia, there the long crimson fruit of the amoma, with mushrooms in plenty. nothing untoward had happened. in this part of the forest beasts appeared to be few. now and again he heard the rapping noise made by the soko, the gibber of monkeys, the squawk of parrots: once he stood behind a broad trunk and watched breathlessly as a tiger-cat stalked a heedless rabbit; each night he lighted his fire and found a serviceable branch on which to rest. but on the third day he was less happy. the farther he walked, the denser became the forest, the more difficult his path. edible berries were rarer; fewer trees had fungi growing about their roots; he had to content himself with forest beans in their brown tough rind. when the evening was drawing on he could find no dry fuel for a fire, and now, instead of seeking a branch for a sleeping place, he looked for a hollow tree which would give him some shelter from the cold damp air of night. having found his tree he gathered a handful of moss, set fire to it from his stick and block, which he had carefully preserved, and threw the smouldering heap into the hollow to smoke out noxious insects, or a snake, if perchance one had made his home there. the fourth day was a repetition of the third, with more discomforts. sometimes the tangled vines and creepers were so thick that he had to go round about to find a path. the vegetation provided still less food, only a few jack fruit and the wild fruit of the motanga rewarding his search. he was so hungry at midday that he was reduced to collecting slugs from the trees, a fare he would fain have avoided. fearless as he was, he was beginning to be anxious; for to make a certain course in this dense forest was well-nigh impossible. at dusk, when again he sought a hollow tree and dropped a heap of smouldering herbage into the hole, he started back with a low cry, for he heard an ominous hiss in the depths, and was only just in time to avoid a python which had been roused from sleep by the burning mass. in a twinkling the huge coils spread themselves like a released watch-spring beyond the mouth of the hole and along the lowermost branch of the tree. with all his forest lore, samba was surprised to find that a python could move so quickly. the instant he heard the angry hiss he crouched low against the trunk, thankful that the reptile had chosen a branch on the other side. armed only with a knife, he knew himself no match for a twenty-foot python; had he not seen a young hippopotamus strangled by a python no larger than this? like brer rabbit, samba lay low and said nothing: until the python, swinging itself on to the branch of an adjacent tree a few feet away, disappeared in the foliage. then, allowing time for the reptile to settle elsewhere, samba sought safer quarters. the python's house was comfortable, even commodious; but samba would scarcely have slept as soundly as he was wont in uncertainty whether the disturbed owner might not after all return home. he felt very cramped and miserable when he rose next day to resume his journey. this morning he had to start without breakfast, for neither fruits nor berries were to be had: a search among fallen trees failed even to discover ants of which to make a scanty meal. constant walking and privation were telling on his frame; his eyes were less bright, his step was less elastic. but there was a great heart within him; he plodded on; he had set out to find his father and mother; he would not turn back. the dangers ahead could be no worse than those he had already met, and no experienced general of army could have known better than samba that to retreat is often more perilous than to advance. in the afternoon, when, having found a few berries, he had eaten the only meal of the day and was about to seek, earlier than usual, his quarters for the night, he heard, from a short distance to the left of his track, a great noise of growling and snarling. the sounds were not like those of any animals he knew. with cautious steps he made his way through the matted undergrowth towards the noise. almost unawares he came upon an extraordinary sight. in the centre of an open space, scarcely twenty feet across, a small man, lighter in hue than the majority of congolese natives, was struggling to free himself from the grip of a serval which had buried its claws deep in his body and thigh. two other small men, less even than samba in height, were leaping and yelling around their comrade, apparently instructing him how to act, though neither made use of the light spears they carried to attack the furious beast. the serval, its greenish eyes brilliant with rage, was an unusually powerful specimen of its kind, resembling indeed a leopard rather than a tiger-cat. it was bent, as it seemed, upon working its way upward to the man's throat, and its reddish spotted coat was so like his skin in hue that, as they writhed and twisted this way and that, an onlooker might well have hesitated to launch a spear at the beast for fear of hitting the man. one of the little man's hands had a grip of the serval's throat; but he was not strong enough to strangle it, and the lightning quickness of the animal's movements prevented him from gripping it with the other hand. even a sturdily-built european might well have failed to gain the mastery in a fight with such a foe, and the little man had neither the strength nor the staying power to hold out much longer. yet his companions continued to yell and dance round, keeping well out of reach of the terrible claws; while blood was streaming from a dozen deep gashes in the little man's body. samba stood but a few moments gazing at the scene. the instinct of the born hunter was awake in him, and that higher instinct which moves a man to help his kind. clutching his broad knife he bounded into the open, reached the fainting man in two leaps, and plunged the blade deep into the creature's side behind the shoulder. with a convulsive wriggle the serval made a last attempt to bury its fangs in its victim's neck. then its muscles suddenly relaxed, and it fell dead to the ground. samba's intervention had come too late. the man had been so terribly mauled that his life was ebbing fast. his comrades looked at him and began to make strange little moaning cries; then they laid him on a bed of leaves and turned their attention to samba. he knew that he was in the presence of bambute, the dreaded pigmies of the forest. never before had he seen them; but he had heard of them as fearless hunters and daring fighters, who moved about from place to place in the forest, and levied toll upon the plantations of larger men. the two little men came to him and patted his arms and jabbered together; but he understood nothing of what they said. by signs he explained to them that he was hungry. then, leaving their wounded comrade to his fate, they took samba by the hands and led him rapidly into the forest, following a path which could scarcely have been detected by any except themselves. in some twenty minutes they arrived at a clearing where stood a group of two score small huts, like beehives, no more than four feet high, with an opening eighteen inches square, just large enough to allow a pigmy to creep through. pigmies, men and women, were squatting around--ugly little people, but well-made and muscular, with leaves and grass aprons for all clothing, and devoid of such ornaments as an ordinary negro loves. they sprang up as samba approached between his guides, and a great babel of question and answer arose, like the chattering of monkeys. the story was told; none showed any concern for the man left to die; the bambute acknowledge no ties, and seem to have little family affection. a plentiful dinner of antelope flesh and bananas was soon placed before samba, and it was clear that the pigmies were ready to make much of the stranger who had so boldly attacked the serval. one of them knew a little of a congolese dialect, and he succeeded in making samba understand that the chief was pleased with him, and wished to adopt him as his son. samba shook his head and smiled: his own parents were alive, he said; he wished for no others. this made the chief angry. the chiefs of some of the big men had often adopted pigmy boys and made slaves of them; it was now his turn. the whole community scowled and snarled so fiercely that samba thought the safest course was to feign acquiescence for the moment, and seize the first opportunity afterwards of slipping away. but nearly three weeks passed before a chance presented itself. the pigmies kept him with them, never letting him go out of their sight. they fed him well--almost too well, expecting his powers of consumption to be equal to their own. never before had he seen such extraordinary eaters. one little man would squat before a stalk bearing fifty or sixty bananas, and eat them all. true, he lay moaning and groaning all night, but next morning would be quite ready to gorge an equal meal. since they did not cultivate the ground themselves, samba wondered where they obtained their plentiful supply of bananas and manioc. he learnt by and by that they appropriated what they pleased from the plantations of a neighbouring tribe of big men, who had too great a respect for the pigmies' poisoned arrows and spears to protest. samba hoped that he might one day escape to this tribe, but a shifting of the village rendered this impossible, though it afforded the boy the opportunity for which he had so long been waiting. on the night when the pigmy tribe settled down in its new home, four days' journey from the old, samba took advantage of the fatigue of his captors to steal away. he had chosen the darkest hour before the dawn, and knowing that he would very soon be missed and followed up, he struck off through the forest as rapidly as he could. with plentiful food he had recovered his old strength and vigour, and he strode along fleetly, finding his way chiefly by the nature of the ground beneath his feet; for there was no true path, and the forest was almost completely dark, even when dawn had broken elsewhere. as the morning drew on the leafy arcades became faintly illuminated, and he could then see sufficiently well to choose the easiest way through the obstacles that beset his course. despite all his exertions his progress was very slow. well he knew that, expert though he was in forest travel, he could not move through these tangled mazes with anything like the speed of the active little men who by this time were almost certainly on his track. at the best he could hardly have got more than two miles' start. as he threaded his way through the brushwood, hacking with his knife at obstructive creepers, and receiving many a scratch from briar and thorn, he tried to think of some way of throwing the pursuers off the scent; but every yard of progress demanded so much exertion that he was unequal to the effort of devising any likely ruse. suddenly coming upon a shallow stream about two yards wide that ran across his line of march, he saw in a flash a chance of covering his trail. he stepped into the stream, pausing for a moment to drink, then waded a few paces against the current, narrowly scanning the bordering trees. they showed a close network of interlacing branches, one tree encroaching on another. choosing a bough overhanging the brook, just above his head, samba drew himself up into the tree, taking care that no spots of water were left on the branch to betray him. then, clambering nimbly like a monkey from bough to bough, he made a path for himself through the trees at an angle half-way between the directions of the stream and of his march through the forest. he hoped that, losing his track in the stream, the bambute would jump to the conclusion that he was making his way up or down its bed, and would continue their chase accordingly. among the trees his progress was even slower than on the ground. every now and again he had to return on his tracks, encountering a branch that, serviceable as it might look, proved either too high or too low, or not strong enough to bear his weight. and he was making more noise than he liked. there was not only the rustle and creak of parting leaves and bending twigs, and the crack of small branches that snapped under his hand; but his intrusion scared the natural denizens of the forest, and they clattered away with loud cries of alarm--grey parrots in hundreds, green pigeons, occasionally a hawk or the great blue plantain-eater. the screeches of the birds smothered, indeed, any sound that he himself might make; but such long-continued evidence of disturbance might awaken the suspicion of the little men and guide them to his whereabouts. by and by he came to a gap in the forest. the clear sunlight was welcome as a guide to his course; but he saw that to follow the direction which he believed would bring him towards banonga he must now leave the trees. he stopped for a few minutes to recover breath, and to consider what he had best do. as he lay stretched along a bough, his eye travelled back over the path he had come. the vagaries of lightning that had struck down two forest giants in close proximity disclosed to his view a stretch of some twenty yards of the stream which he had just crossed on his primeval suspension bridge. what caused him to start and draw himself together, shrinking behind a leafy screen thick enough to hide him even from the practised eyes of the little forest men? there, in the bed of the stream, glancing this way and that, at the water, the banks, the trees on every side, were a file of bambute, carrying their little bows and arrows and their short light spears. they moved swiftly, silently, some bending towards the ground, others peering to right and left with a keenness that nothing could escape. samba's heart thumped against his ribs as he watched them. he counted them as they passed one after another across the gap; they numbered twenty, and he was not sure that he had seen the first. the last disappeared. samba waited. had his ruse succeeded? there was absolute silence; he heard neither footstep nor voice. but the little men must soon find out their mistake. they would then cast back to the point where they had lost the scent. could they pick it up again--trace him to the tree and follow him up? he could not tell. they must have been close upon him when he climbed into the tree; evidently he had left the path only in the nick of time. this much he had gained. but he dared not wait longer; there was no safety for him while they were so near; he must on. chapter x a trip with a crocodile samba looked warily round, then began to descend from his perch in the tree, moving as slowly and with as many pauses as a timid bather stepping into the water. once more he was on the ground. pausing only to throw a rapid glance on all sides, he struck off in a direction at right angles to the course of the stream, and resumed his laborious march through the forest maze. hour after hour he pushed on without meeting a living creature. but he had heard too much of the cunning and determination of the congo dwarfs to delude himself with the idea that he had finally shaken them off. tired as he was, sweating in the moist oppressive heat, he dared not rest, even to eat in comfort the food he had brought in his tin. he nibbled morsels as he went, hoping that by good speed during the whole day he might get far enough from the pigmies to make his ultimate escape secure. towards evening he heard in front of him the long monotonous rustle of a stream foaming over a rocky bed. he was careful in approaching it: to meet a crocodile ambushed near the bank would be as dangerous as to meet a man. pushing his way cautiously through the shrubs, he came to the edge of a broad river, flowing in swift eddies from white rapids above. it seemed to samba that this must be a tributary of the lemba, the river on whose bank he had left the white men, and to which, lower down, he must ultimately make his way. pursuit by the white men might now be safely disregarded; samba thought he could hardly do better than keep to the stream, taking his chance of meeting negroes at isolated villages on the banks. these, if he met them, would at any rate be easier to elude than the bambute. but the sun was going down, the air becoming chill. he must find a shelter for the night and pursue his riverside journey next day. a little search revealed, on a bluff above the river, a boulder having a deep cavity on one side. here samba sat down to eat the little food left in his tin; then he curled himself up for the night. nothing disturbed his sleep. in the morning he felt more than usually hungry. his tin was empty; he did not care to leave the river and go hunting in the forest, perhaps vainly, for berries or roots. a little way down stream he noticed a spot where the dark surface of the water was scarcely disturbed by a ripple; was that a deep pool, he wondered, where fish might be? he went down to the edge and, leaning flat upon a rock peeped over. yes; in the depths he caught the scaly gleam of darting fish. springing up, he went to a swampy patch hard by and cut a long, straight, stiff reed. then he took the hard stick with which he made fire, and, sharpening the point until it pricked like a needle, he fitted the wood to the reed so as to make a spear. with this in his hand he once more leant over the pool. he lay still for a few moments, intently watching; then, with a movement of extraordinary swiftness, he plunged his spear into the depths, and brought it out with a silvery trout impaled. the fish had stopped to nibble at a root in the bank. when samba had thus caught three he was satisfied. he did not pause to cook the fish. he split them open, dexterously boned and cleaned them, and ate them raw. he had scarcely finished his breakfast when he saw, hurtling down the rapids above him, a huge forest tree--a mass of green, for most of its branches in full leaf were still upon it. clearly it had not long lost its grip of earth. it came swirling towards samba, every now and then stopping as its submerged part was caught by some rock, only to be whirled round and driven past the obstacle by the weight of water behind. it made a zigzag course through the rapids, and then floated peacefully down the still reach of water beneath. as he watched the tree sailing gently towards him, samba had an idea. why not use it as a raft to carry him on his way? it was strong enough to bear his weight; he could hide in the foliage with at least as good a chance of escaping observation as if he were moving along the banks. by the time he had grasped the notion the tree was past him. he sprang up, raced along until he was level with it, then took a neat header into the water. a minute's rapid swimming brought him to the end of the trunk, which, he saw, had been snapped clean off and was not encumbered by the roots. he clambered up, and the trunk was so long that his trifling weight scarcely depressed its end. smiling with pleasure, he crawled along it until he was in the centre of the leafy screen. this, however, now that he was there, did not seem so dense as when he had viewed it from the bank; he was not concealed so well as he had hoped. every now and again, too, his novel raft gave an ominous lurch and roll, suggesting that the portion above water might at any moment change places with that below. if that happened, samba wondered, would he be able to disengage himself from the tangle of branches and swim clear? but these momentary fears were banished by the novelty and excitement of his position. how delightful it was, after his toilsome and fatiguing journey through the forest, to float down the river without effort of his own in a leafy arbour that defended him from the fierce rays of the sun! and his voyage had the pleasures of variety. sometimes the foliaged top went first; then, when the branches swept the bottom of the stream in shallow reaches, the trunk swung round and went broadside to the current. sometimes the branches stuck fast, the current carried the trunk round in a circle, and when an eddy set it again in motion, the trunk end became the bow of this uneasy ship. bump! that was some rock or sandbank; the tree shook, and samba was nearly toppled from his perch. nk'oketo![1] it was all right; the friendly water had washed the tree clear, and samba was off again, his black eyes gleaming with fun as he peered between the branches. it was early in the afternoon, and very hot even for those latitudes. everything seemed asleep. no breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees along the banks. the air quivered. samba was dozing, lulled by the gentle motion of the tree, whose progress had not for some time been checked. all at once there was a shock. samba instinctively clutched a branch as he felt himself jerked from his seat. his lumbering vessel was twirling round; and looking through the leaves, he saw that it was caught by the head on a sandbank in midstream. but next moment he felt a shiver run down his spine, and an eery creeping about the roots of his hair. below him, not four feet away, a gigantic crocodile was staring at him with his cunning baleful eyes. the swish of the projecting branches upon the sandbank had aroused the reptile from his siesta on this vantage ground, whence, at the lazy opening of an eye, he could survey a long stretch of the river. and he had awoke to see a plump and tempting black boy at the inconsiderable altitude of four feet above his snout. those who have seen the crocodile only in his hours of ease, lazily sunning himself on a river bank, or floating with scarcely more than his eyes and forehead visible on the surface of the stream, may have come to the comfortable conclusion that he is a slow-moving and lethargic beast. but see him rushing at the bank to seize in his terrible jaws the unwary antelope or zebra that has come to drink, or to sweep it into the river with a single blow of his mighty tail. watch him when, roused from his doze on a sandbank, by the sting of a rifle bullet on his armour, he vanishes with lightning rapidity beneath the water. at one moment to all seeming as lifeless as a log, the next he is a raging monster, ready to tear and rend any hapless creature which his inertness has beguiled. of the two, samba and the crocodile, it was the saurian that first recovered his wits. his instinct when disturbed at close quarters is to rush forthwith upon his enemy or victim. thus did the crocodile now. considering that he is a beast not built for jumping, the leap he attempted, with a spasmodic wriggle of his formidable tail, was quite a creditable feat. with his teeth he grazed the lower part of the branch on which samba sat; and the boy, gazing down into the beast's eyes, shuddered and shrank away. fortunate it was for him that his legs had not been dangling. nothing could then have saved him. the reptile, slipping back after its failure, maintained its hold on the lower branches with its forefeet. before it could make a second attempt, samba had swung himself into the branch above. the tree toppled slightly, and for one moment of terror samba feared he would be thrown into the very jaws of the monster. but the sandbank held the tree firmly, and that peril was past. with thick foliage between it and the boy, the crocodile saw no chance of securing its victim from its present position. but it was determined not to be balked, and, cunning beast! could afford to wait. it seemed to know that the boy was only safe so long as he clung to his perch. on the sandbank, or in the water, his end would alike be speedy. so the reptile slid off the bank into the water, and swam to the trunk end of the tree, which had been swung round by the current and was now pointing down stream. if it could not leap, it could crawl, and up the trunk the approach to its prey was easy. samba's eyes were now wide with fright, as he saw the beast's intention. up a tree on the river bank he could have laughed any crocodile to scorn; but this sandbank in midstream was ground peculiarly the creature's own, even though the prey was on a branch ten feet above it. with its experience of sandbanks the crocodile knew there was no permanency in this arrangement. the attempts of the huge reptile to gain a footing on the trunk had a result which caused samba mingled hope and fear. the tree floated clear of the bank, and the voyage began again. but how different were the circumstances! in the stern, no longer a cheerful smiling boy, carelessly watching the slow banks glide by, but a boy whose hands and feet gripped his perch with anxious tenacity, and whose scared eyes were quick to mark every movement of the unwelcome, the abhorred, passenger amidships. with many a splash of its tail, and many a grunt of impatient fury, the monster at last made good its footing on the broad trunk, which under its weight was for more than a quarter of its length invisible beneath the surface of the water. for some minutes it lay still, staring at samba with unwinking eyes, displaying all its teeth as if to grin sardonically at its victim. samba regretted for the moment that he had not swarmed down from his perch and attacked the crocodile with his knife while he was still struggling to mount the trunk. but then he reflected that he had after all done wisely, for the reptile would have slid back into the water, and before samba could gain his retreat, he might have been swept off by one swish of the terrible tail. samba, as he had shown more than once, and notably in the recent incident of the serval, had no lack of courage; but he had never before been at such close quarters with a crocodile, the most terrible of all the natural enemies of man in the regions of the congo. and as he sat and watched the glassy stare of the hideous reptile now wriggling inch by inch towards him, he felt a strange helplessness, a kind of fascination that seemed to chill and paralyse his power of movement as of thought. he had retreated as far as he dared. his weight had caused some of the slenderer and more elastic branches to bend towards the water; he had even imagined that, as he tested them, the pressure threatened to make the tree revolve. what his fate would be if the whirling of the trunk on its axis brought him into the river he well knew. the crocodile would slip as nimbly as an eel after him; and, entangled in the foliage, which to his armoured enemy would offer no obstacle, he would fall an easy prey. the crocodile wriggled on, till it came to the place where the first branch forked from the trunk. scarcely more than its own length now separated it from samba. apparently it had come as near as it cared to venture; not being a climber, the feat of crawling up the tapering branch on which samba was perched was not one to its taste. it lay still, with jaws agape, its eyes half-closed in a kind of wicked leer. samba tried to look away from the hideous beast, but in vain; he found his gaze drawn back uncontrollably. he felt even more subject to the fascination now that the crocodile's movements had ceased. the conviction was growing upon him that sooner or later he would slide down the branch and fall dreamily into the open jaws. he was fast becoming hypnotized. but he was roused from this dangerous trancelike state by a sudden roll of the tree. perched high as he was, the motion caused him to swing through an arc of several yards and brought him perilously near the water. the danger quickened his faculties: he clung on with a tighter grip, bethinking himself to look whether his fishing spear, which he had stuck into the bark, was still safe. he was relieved to find that it was undisturbed. the tree righted itself, and a gleam of hope lightened samba's mind when he saw that the crocodile was in the water. though, stretched on the trunk, the beast had felt the roll less than samba above, it had a less tenacious grip and less ability to adapt itself; and first the tail, then the rest of its body had slid off. it was violently struggling to regain its position, its jaw resting on the trunk, its forepaws furiously beating the water. the memory of the reptile's former difficulties in mounting inspired samba with an idea, which, impelled equally by terror and hate, he was prompt to act upon. the tree was still rocking slightly before regaining its steadiness, and the crocodile, despite its efforts, was unable to gain a firm grip on the moving trunk. all its attention was engaged upon the accomplishment of its immediate purpose: it would lose the dainty morsel if it did not once more mount the tree. samba was quick to seize the critical moment. spear in hand he crept downwards along the branch on which he had been perched, careful that his movements should not divert the crocodile's attention. reaching the junction of the branch with the parent stem, only five or six feet from the reptile, he let himself down noiselessly into the river on the far side of the tree, and swam for a second or two until he came opposite the crocodile. during these few seconds he had been hidden from the creature's view by the mass of the trunk, which rose out of the water to some height above his head. the crocodile had now managed to get its forepaws on the tree, and in struggling to hoist itself its snout was raised almost upright, exposing the soft underside, the sole part in which it is vulnerable to anything except a very heavy bullet. samba caught sight of the tip of the snout above the tree; here was the opportunity he had hoped for in making this hazardous experiment. taking with his left hand a firm grip of a wart on the trunk, he raised himself in the water, and with the right hand drove his spear twice into the monster's throat. the crocodile made no sound; a lash of the powerful tail drove up a wave that caused the tree to rock violently: then the huge body slipped backwards into the water. the moment he had driven his spear home samba let go his hold on the tree, and trod water until the current brought the foliage to him. then he drew himself nimbly up into the branch he had formerly occupied. he was breathless, and scarcely yet recovered from his scare; but there was no sign of the crocodile, and knowing that the reptile when mortally wounded sinks into deep water, he felt that his enemy had gone for ever. he heaved a deep sigh of relief, but chancing to look back, he noticed with a start of renewed dread that the water in the wake of the tree was faintly tinged with red. was it possible that the crocodile, though wounded, was still following? he felt a shiver thrill through him, and, bending down from his perch, kept his eyes fixed in a stare on that ominous sanguine thread. the minutes passed. still the water showed that faint persistent tidge. samba was becoming more and more nervous. like the reptile's eyes but a little while ago, that line of red held his gaze in a strange fascination. he was still watching it when the tree suddenly gave a violent lurch, and turned half over. samba, whose hold had relaxed in his nervousness, was flung off the branch into a clump of bushes at the side of the river, which here began to race rapidly through a deep gorge. scratched and dazed by the fall he picked himself up slowly. he rubbed his eyes. what was this? he was in the midst of a group of pigmies, who were pointing excitedly, uttering their strange coughing cry, to the branches of the tree. in its lurch it had been turned almost completely round, so that the foliage formerly beneath the water was now uppermost. and there, firmly wedged in a fork of two boughs, lay the lifeless body of the crocodile. the bambute jabbered to samba, stroked his arms, patted his back, examined the spear which, though it was broken in his fall, he had not let go. from the bank they had witnessed the boy's bold fight, and they had followed the course of the floating tree until it ran ashore on a jutting bed of rock. samba made signs that he wished to pursue his journey on foot; but the bambute shook their heads and grunted and carried him away with them. once more he was a prisoner. [1] nothing wrong! chapter xi bula matadi comes to ilola "well, barney," said jack, when mr. martindale's canoe had disappeared, "i don't know how a first mate would feel if he lost his captain in mid-ocean, but i should fancy he'd feel pretty much as i do now." "and what sort of feeling is now consuming ye, sorr?" "mixed, barney, very mixed! i like the idea of being left in charge, trusted, you know; there's something jolly pleasant about that. but that's the point, you see; i am left in charge." "sure i see your maning widout your telling me, sorr. 'tis just the very same feeling i used to have whin a bhoy, and me mither put the baby in me arms and tould me to sit wid her on the doorstep. 'twas a sweet pretty colleen, an' i thought a powerful deal uv having such a heap uv loveliness in me arms; but thin, just as you say, sorr, she was in me arms, an' they being thin an' she being fat--begorra! i was soon mighty tired uv it, an' i wished she was ugly so that i might hate her widout sin." "i hope i shan't feel quite so bad as that, barney," said jack with a laugh. "but i own i'm a little anxious with so many people in my charge." "and not wan uv them to be trusted, saving pat and meself." "and this mining claim of my uncle's to keep an eye on and defend without using force." "and wild beasts prowling around----" "and that villainous uncle of samba's somewhere in the neighbourhood, i suppose, waiting a chance to molest us." "and bedad! if he does, he'll find an irishman, an englishman, and a terrier, irish by breed and irish by nature, and them three are a match for any fifty blokos, widout a doubt." "you're an optimist, barney. but you're right. it's silly to meet troubles half-way. we had better set about doing something. i used to think our house-master kept our noses rather too close to the grindstone, but i begin to see he was right when he said work was the best cure for the dumps." "and for what the advertisements call a tindency to corpilence. but what will you be after doing at all, sorr?" "well, don't you think that, now our numbers are reduced, it would be as well to move our camp nearer to imbono's village? we shall be here for a couple of months or so, and if boloko is still on our tracks we should be less open to surprise near ilola. besides, it will give the men something to do. they'd better build grass huts for the whole party, and i don't see why we shouldn't try our hands at architectural improvements." "indeed, 'tis a good notion, sorr. but are ye sure imbono would be willing to have us for close neighbours?" "we can try. he's my blood brother, you know. and i dare say we can put him up to a thing or two." the chief made no objection to the suggested change of site; indeed, he offered the assistance of his men in the construction of the new huts. this, however, jack declined in the politest terms, thinking it better to provide plenty of work for his own men until he had had time to take his bearings. the new huts were built within a short distance of ilola, near a stream. they were the ordinary grass huts of the natives, but jack, seeing a number of wooden slabs taken from the bottoms of old canoes, had purchased them from imbono, and when shaped a little they made a very fair substitute for flooring boards. the new settlement was surrounded with a stockade in the native manner, space enough being left within to accommodate mr. martindale and his party when they should return. this work occupied a fortnight. everything had gone smoothly, save for trifling squabbles among the natives. these jack managed to settle with little difficulty, in great part through the excellent qualities of lepoko, who turned out to be a much better man all round than his brother nando. when the new village was completed, jack set the men to make indian clubs from the trees near at hand, and spent part of the cool hours in instructing his followers in their use. they took readily to the new pastime, and very quickly became proficient in executing a great variety of intricate figures. jack was elated at the success of his experiment: it not only provided an admirable drill for the men, but accustomed them to take commands from him and thus consolidated his authority. imbono's men caught the infection: indian clubs were soon the order of the day in ilola; and it gave jack and barney no little amusement to see men, women, and children at all times of the day whirling clubs around their heads. imbono saw that his men's performances were greatly lacking in rhythm and grace, and he begged his blood brother (whom he had named lokolobolo, "strong leg") to allow some of his men to join in the daily practising. jack was nothing loth; the more influence he could obtain in this way the better his chances of success in the task his uncle had set him. he was casting about for some new employment to occupy and interest his men, when a couple of canoes came up the river bearing a letter from mr. martindale, and a small consignment of mauser rifles and ammunition. the letter was dated from baraka. dear jack,-i've got here safely, no interference, no upsets. i've managed to get hold of some rifles--i won't tell you how--and send them to you in charge of some canoe "boys." hope they'll reach you safely. i've paid the boys well, and promised them as much more if they return and meet me with an acknowledgment from you. i'm off to boma; will write you again from there if i can find a means of sending the letter. let me know by the bearer how you are getting on. on the way down i made more particular inquiries than were possible in coming up as to the methods of the congo government. at stanleyville i met a frenchman who told me a good deal, and here got rather chummy with an english missionary on his way home to tell the british public some of the effects of king leopold's rule. one need only look at the man to see that he is the right sort, with the stuff in him for martyrdom if the call came. the things he told me made my skin creep. leopold seems to be doing his best to depopulate the country. he'll soon make vanderbilt sing small as a multi-millionaire; but when his pile's made this state of his will be a wilderness. i find that the natives are required to bring in four kilos of rubber every fortnight. they're supposed to be paid for it, and they do get brass rods or something of the sort; but the pay works out at the rate of three cents a pound--when rubber to my knowledge fetches about eighty cents a pound in the european market! i hear of cases where they don't even get that; a spoonful of salt is supposed to be sufficient. if the rubber don't measure up to the standard, the least punishment the poor wretches get is twenty-five lashes with a whip of hippo hide--the _chicotte_, an outrageous thing that would cut through a pine log. but they don't stop at twenty-five; a hundred ain't uncommon; no wonder some of the poor creatures peg out after it. but that's not the worst. these precious "forest guards," as they call them, seem to be little less than fiends. i saw with my own eyes, at one of the villages on the way down, a basket filled with hands, cut from the people these savages have killed for not bringing in enough rubber. the frenchman told me they have to produce these hands before the commissary to prove they haven't wasted their cartridges. according to state law they oughtn't to be armed with rifles, but they've got a belgian thing called the albini, and that's how they use it. i wouldn't believe that this hand-chopping was done with the knowledge of the officials, though even then it don't relieve them of responsibility; but i heard of a state officer at one of the outposts who actually paid in brass rods for the hands brought him. law doesn't count here, and justice is only a name. what do you think of this? a belgian official quartered himself with twenty native soldiers on a small village, and because they couldn't fix up at once the food required for the visitors, he carried the chief and some of his men to his camp up river, and kept 'em there tied up for a month till a fine of 5,000 brass rods had been paid--ruination for such a small place. the missionary told me that "fights" are constantly taking place, and "fight" simply means massacre. districts that once held a thousand people are now reduced to a hundred; what natives are not killed get so worn out and dispirited that they are bowled over by sleeping sickness. if this sort of thing goes on much longer, the whole population will be wiped out. you'll be surprised to get such a long letter; but fact is, i can't think of anything else just now. it makes me fairly sick to think that america had a hand in putting this huge territory under the control of a man whose philanthropic high-falutin comes to this. the whole system is organized murder and pillage under the form of law, and for this king leopold, who pockets a thumping profit, is responsible before god and man. now i've told you this you'll know how to deal with that fellow elbel if he tries any tricks. but remember, no fighting except in self-defence. patience, my boy--_toujours la patience_, as the frenchman said to me when i was boiling with rage and wanted to go right away and speak my mind to the governor. your affectionate uncle, john martindale. p.s.--i saw and heard nothing of samba. there was plenty of food for thought here, especially when jack learnt from the head paddler who had brought the letter that the officials of the trust in which ilola was situated were coming up the river to establish new dépôts for the rubber. he wrote a brief account of what he had been doing, and despatched it by the same men. then, to be prepared for eventualities, he picked out the most intelligent of his followers and began to teach them the use of the rifle. only a few of them showed any promise as marksmen. but jack was very patient with them; and having a good stock of ammunition and the promise of more, he did not spare practice, and in a short time had about fifteen fairly trustworthy shots. one man, named makoko, took to the rifle from the first and ran jack close as a marksman. jack was very proud of his pupil. he himself had been the crack shot of his school company; and though there was all the difference in the world between shooting at the butts from a position of rest and shooting at alligators or hippos from a canoe, he had tested his marksmanship with success as he came up the congo. now that some of his men had rifles it occurred to jack to teach them what he remembered of his company drill. it was a welcome change after their long practice with the indian clubs, and they entered into it with the pleasure and zest of children. lepoko was gratified with the rank of sergeant, and makoko made corporal in recognition of his diligence and skill in musketry. when the company was formed barney reminded jack that he had been a corporal in the irish fusiliers. "and sure i'd be in the army now, sorr, only they didn't invent the irish guards till i was a time-expired man. but having been a corporal, it's meself that is cut out to be your liftinant here, sorr. we've got pat for the pet uv the reg'mint," he added, "and the only thing that's wanting is the uniform." "well, barney, perhaps for the sake of uniformity we'd better strip and take to the loincloth." "ah! you must always be having your bit uv fun, sorr. we'd be far too conspicuous, for my skin at any rate would turn red wid modesty, and the generals say that red coats make the best targets for the inemy." the drilling of jack's company was followed with great interest and admiration by imbono and his men. they never failed to attend the daily parade, and soon desired to join it. jack delighted the chief by putting the villagers through the same exercises as his own men, excepting, of course, the musketry practice, for which they had no rifles. before long jack found himself captain of a company a hundred and fifty strong, all but his fifteen riflemen being spearmen. nearly two months had now passed. jack had not heard again from his uncle, whose return he daily expected. he was anxious to see him again, for lately news had been brought in by excited natives that the servants of the great white chief were drawing nearer, their progress being attended by wanton cruelties which boded ill for the men of ilola. so distressed was imbono at the tales he heard from these messengers that he thought of dismantling his village and migrating into the depths of the forest. there for a time he and his people might hide from the destroyer. but to a people accustomed to the open the prospect of making a new home in the forest was gloomy indeed. most of them would probably die of disease before they became acclimatised, and there was great risk of starving while clearings were being made and brought under cultivation. imbono resolved to wait a little longer, hoping that bula matadi might turn back, sated with the spoils from lower reaches of the lemba. one day, the visitors so long expected and so little desired arrived at the village. jack's settlement being on the further side of ilola from the river, he did not know of their approach until informed of it by a messenger from imbono. thirty forest guards of the great white chief had come, and with them twenty nondescripts, hangers-on of the licensed pillagers. their leader was not a white man, as imbono had expected, but a black man like themselves. this surprised jack. it was of rather ill omen that the first representatives of king leopold in imbono's village should be negroes free from white men's control. but the strangers reported that a white man--his name, they said, was elobela--was coming up the river behind them. meanwhile they, in his name, called upon the chief to supply rubber. imbono desired that his brother lokolobolo would come into the village and give him advice. "faith, i'd do nothing of the sort, sorr," said barney. "what would ye have any truck wid elbel's scoundhrels for?" "but it would be a poor return for imbono's kindness to refuse. i shall certainly go; the question is, shall i go armed?" "the blessed angels help ye if ye don't, sorr. take your revolver; i'll come wid ye, and so will pat; 'tis right to make a good show for the honour of the reg'mint." accordingly captain, lieutenant, and regimental pet, with lepoko as interpreter, left the stockaded camp and crossed to ilola. they found the thirty forest guards already swaggering about the village as if it belonged to them. they were big muscular ngombe, armed with rifle, cutlass, and whip. their leader was engaged in conversation with the chief. no sooner did pat perceive him than he darted forward with a growl, and coming to the negro, began to bark furiously at his heels. the man turned round quickly and aimed a blow with his whip at the dog, which made pat bark and jump more vigorously than ever. at the same moment the man caught sight of jack, and his face expressed surprise, guilt, and bravado in turn. "begorra!" said barney under his breath, "'tis bloko himself!" the chief's countenance cleared; he was unmistakably pleased at jack's ready response to his request. then he anxiously asked what he should do. "i don't think you can do anything but obey," replied jack. "undoubtedly the great white chief is lord of the land. by the laws he has made you are bound to supply these people with rubber. it is your tax. if you resist it will mean ruin to yourself and your villages. how is the rubber to be paid for?" "in brass rods." "well, let your men do their best. we will see if you get your due pay. my uncle will soon be back; he is a determined man, and if you are not properly treated he will take care that somebody hears of it." boloko scowled, then laughed, when lepoko translated this answer to the chief. he swaggered away to his men, and the whole crowd were soon laughing heartily, every now and then making derisive gestures at the white men. with some difficulty barney had got hold of pat, whose barking had subsided into a rumbling growl. but for his restraining hand barney knew well that the dog would have thrown prudence to the winds and set upon the strange negroes. from that day imbono's villagers began the collection of rubber. boloko and his men seized as many huts as they required, and demanded regular and copious supplies of food for themselves and their hangers-on. before twenty-four hours had passed boloko, with half a dozen of his guards, strolled over to jack's village, and looked in at the gateway of the stockade. jack had already decided to adopt military precautions. two of his best men were doing sentry-go at the gate. when boloko saw them and their rifles he thought better of entering as he had purposed. he stood for some time taking stock of the tidy compound and the neat new huts around, and discussing with his men this unexpected discovery. then with a malignant scowl he returned to ilola. for some days jack saw no more of boloko. he remained within his own stockade, thinking it would do the chief no good if he too openly showed friendship. every day he put the men through their usual drill, never giving the least sign that he was aware of being closely observed by the forest guards. the drilling of imbono's men had ceased; the adult villagers were now engaged in the collection of rubber. from what jack heard from his men, it soon became clear to him that boloko was anxious to pick a quarrel with the chief. his motive, jack guessed, was partly to show his authority, partly to flaunt his contempt of the friendship between imbono and the white men. his design was to some extent kept in check by the knowledge that jack had fifteen men well armed and trained, and the presence of the two white men, inglesa too--he had a wholesome respect for the inglesa--was in itself a considerable deterrent. but he began to find fault with the quality of the rubber brought in; declared that the villagers kept the best fish for themselves and gave him the worst; complained that his men were made ill by rotten manioc. imbono took care that the details of these grievances were carried to jack, who, however, held aloof, still feeling that interference on his part would do no good, while it would certainly aggravate the situation. when the congo free state entrusted the collection of its revenue to such subordinates as boloko, commanding ruthless savages like the forest guards, there was nothing to be done. one evening, after sunset, lepoko came into jack's hut to say that the chief desired to see him. jack hurried out, and found imbono in company with one of his villagers. he invited them into his hut, lighted a candle, and setting food and palm wine before them, inquired the object of their visit. "look, my brother!" said the chief, pointing to his companion. the man turned, and showed three terrible gashes in his back. he lifted his right foot and removed a bandage; jack saw that two of the toes were missing. "you see, brother!" said imbono. "ifumi was eating caterpillars in his hut. the guard bomolo saw him and came to him and said, 'your rubber is short. you eat caterpillars instead of collecting rubber.' ifumi said: 'no, my rubber is not short. there is my basket; you see it is full.' but bomolo cut three gashes in his back, and struck off two of his toes with his knife." "that is the truth, ifumi?" asked jack. "it is true," replied the man. "you did not provoke bomolo?" "no, i said to him only what the chief has told." "you did right to come, imbono," said jack quietly. "go back now: you had better not be seen here. i will send you a message in the morning." the two men thanked him and went away, ifumi limping as he walked, supported by the chief's arm. jack called barney and told him what had happened. "it makes my blood boil, barney. i hoped it would not come to this. poor wretches--to be at the mercy of such savages! i can't stand by and see such things done. i'm sure my uncle would not wish me to. yet what can i do? we could fight boloko and his men, and beat them i hope; but goodness knows what that would lead to. whatever little right they have to maim these poor people, we have none whatever to interfere, and we should have the regular forces of the state down on us for treason or rebellion or what not. but something must be done. i wish my uncle were here!" "well, sorr, i'm ready for anything. the quickest and easiest way would be to fight, for wid all this drill wan uv our men is worth two uv those blagyards." "no, my uncle said we were to fight only in self-defence. i can't go against that. couldn't we persuade boloko to keep his men in order--bribe him, perhaps?" "i'd sooner try to persuade the divil, sorr." "well, i shall try it. i'll invite him to a palaver. we'll give him a feast--open our last bottle of soda water; a good dinner improves a man's temper sometimes, you know, barney." "true, sorr; but it sometimes makes a man very impident. will i send lepoko over wid the invitation the morn's morn, sorr?" "yes, directly after breakfast. say that i shall be pleased if boloko will come to see me in my camp. he may bring his rifle and half a dozen of his men." chapter xii samba comes back as jack had expected, boloko was flattered by the invitation, with its implied recognition of his importance. there is nothing a negro likes better than an opportunity for talk, and boloko declared himself quite ready to meet the inglesa. but he would not venture into the camp; the meeting must take place outside. the objection, considering the thinly-veiled hostility of the two parties, was not unreasonable. jack gave up the idea of a banquet, and, about eight o'clock in the morning, went with barney and lepoko to the site of his original camp, where he found boloko and half a dozen of his men already assembled. it is of the essence of a palaver to be deliberate, not to say long-winded, and jack followed the advice of lepoko in passing many compliments and talking about a great variety of matters before he came to the point. then, however, he made the point perfectly clear. he spoke of what he had learnt of the forest guards' behaviour in the village, and of bomolo's outrage in particular. "you must know," he concluded, "that it is against the law of the land to injure or assault the people. your duty is to see that they do not destroy the vines by improper cutting, and that they go regularly into the forest. you have no right to ill-use them." "the white man speaks very wisely; he knows much more than boloko. boloko knows nothing of law or right; he does what is the custom." "but you know, my friend, it is a wrong custom." "it may be as the white man says, but the inglesa is not my master. my master is elobela. let the inglesa complain to elobela. as for right, what right has the inglesa to interfere? he is a stranger; he is not a servant of the great white chief." "i am indeed a stranger; i am not a servant of the great white chief. but the great spirit who made the world and all men bids me speak if i see wrong done." boloko broke out in insolent laughter, and said something to his men which lepoko refused to translate. "him say berrah nasty fing 'bout massa; me no can tell massa." jack saw that it was time to bring the interview to a close. there was no coping with insolence. "very well," he said sternly. "it will be my duty to report at boma what i have seen and heard in the village. and more, boloko; i shall lay a complaint against you for attempting to cut loose our canoes, and for conducting an attack by night upon our camp." boloko looked startled and began to bluster when this was translated to him. but it was evident that this manner was assumed as a cloak to a real uneasiness. the moment lepoko had concluded, jack walked away from the meeting, and as he returned to his own quarters he heard the guards discussing in excited and vehement tones what he had said. for all his bluster, boloko had been impressed. for a few days jack heard of no overt acts of violence. imbono's gratitude for the intervention was almost overwhelming. he heaped praise and compliments upon his brother lokolobolo, and, not content with words, made him a valuable present. half a dozen of his men staggered to jack's hut one night under the weight of a huge tusk of ivory, which imbono had kept since the time when elephant-hunting was a profitable occupation. two days after the palaver a canoe arrived with another dozen mauser rifles and ammunition from mr. martindale. the head paddler was cautious enough to send one of his men in advance to the camp to announce his arrival, and jack managed to get the rifles brought secretly within his stockade under cover of night. it was just as well, he thought, to keep boloko in ignorance of this new acquisition of strength. the man reported that he had been despatched from irebo by an inglesa who had entrusted him with a bonkanda[1] for the young inglesa. jack opened the note eagerly. this time it was very short:-dear jack,-all going well. have been delayed by little investigating trips i have made in the concessions of the abir trust and the domaine de la couronne. atrocities even worse than i thought. hope all well with you. patience--and tact. j.m. p.s.--i am sending a dozen rifles and some ammunition; can't get any more. the paddler said that he had had great difficulty in eluding the white men and their agents. only a few days before, he and his companions had almost run into a white man who was coming up the river in a smoke-boat, establishing new outposts for the collection of rubber. no doubt an outpost would be established at ilola; for imbono was the chief of several villages and had many young men. this news gave jack no little uneasiness. instinctively he felt that the difficulties arising from boloko's presence would be increased by the arrival of his belgian superior. for after what he had learnt from his uncle he could not doubt that the tyranny of the forest guards was practised at least with the connivance, if not by the actual authority, of the officials. as a precaution he took care to have men constantly on the look-out at the river bank for the approach of strange boats, and when one day elbel's launch was sighted, he withdrew all his men within the stockade and posted double sentries. he felt pretty sure that the white man in command was monsieur elbel, the man with whom mr. martindale had already had a brush; and of elbel he had a profound mistrust, formed at first sight and accentuated by all that he had subsequently heard. boloko and his satellites went in a crowd to the bank of the river to greet the new arrivals. from behind his stockade jack watched them through his field-glass as they landed from the launch and set off for the village. the white man was certainly elbel. he was accompanied by a number of forest guards armed like boloko's, and by a crowd of hangers-on--negroes of many varieties. on the way up to the village boloko walked by elbel's side, talking very earnestly, and jack saw the belgian throw a keen and inquisitive glance in the direction of his camp. not an hour afterwards elbel left the village and walked over to jack's settlement, which the natives had named ilombikambua, "house of the dog," in reference to pat the terrier. jack had given orders that the white man was to be admitted if he came, but no black man in his company. the belgian had come alone, and looked a little surprised when the sentries at the gate received him with a correct military salute. jack rose from his stool in front of his hut and doffed his hat courteously. outwardly he was calm enough; but he felt by no means easy in mind, realizing that his responsibility was far from being the "jolly lark" he had light-heartedly called it when mr. martindale announced his intention of leaving him in charge. "good morning, sir," said the belgian in his foreign accent. "good morning. i think i have the pleasure of addressing monsieur elbel?" "dat is my name. i do not know your name." "john challoner." "yes, i believe i see you before in a canoe." "when i was coming up the river with my uncle." "who is now returned to boma. yes, i heard of dat. mr. martindale--i zink dat is de name--have found de gold he sought?" "i am not at liberty to discuss mr. martindale's business." "exactly. i see. ve must not be indiscreet, hein? now as for your mr. martindale, i am not pleased, i say at vunce. i am not pleased viz mr. martindale. he refuse to give me up de black boy dat vas in your canoe. dat vas against de law: it is not permitted in de congo state for de natives to leave deir village." "but if the village no longer exists, mr. elbel?" the belgian shrugged. "dat make no difference! but i have more to say. i have learn dat your men have rifles; i see dem myself; dey even hold deir rifles at de salute, dey have military training, hein? now it is not permitted to have rifles in de congo state: dey are vat you call contraband. i muss ask you to be so kind and give de rifles to me." "i am afraid i can't oblige you, mr. elbel. the rifles belong to my uncle." "dat make no difference! i find de rifles here: i muss ask you in de name of de free state to give dem up." "i don't know that you have any right to speak in the name of the congo state. i believe, sir, you are an official of the société cosmopolite du commerce du congo--a private trust. i can't recognize your authority, mr. elbel." "but it is de law." "if you talk of law! ... are your practices legal, mr. elbel? is it legal to shoot and maim the natives as you have been doing for a hundred miles and more along the river? is it legal to incite a night attack on peaceable travellers?" (here elbel could not suppress a start, and looked far from comfortable.) "but whether i am acting legally or not, i cannot recognize your authority. if you want the rifles, i must ask you to wait until mr. martindale's return and demand them from him. until then they are in my charge, and i cannot give them up." jack thought afterwards that he might have spoken a little less bluntly; but he wished to put an end to a disagreeable interview. his firmness made the belgian angry. "ver' vell, ver' vell!" he said, flushing with annoyance. "you vill suffer for dis. you not recognize my right: vell, capitaine van vorst, an officer of de state, comes up de river; he have right; and i say, mr. chon shalloner, you shall be arrest and made to pay heavy amende--if not put in prison." jack's bow was a courteous intimation that the interview was ended. but the belgian caught the flicker of a smile on his face, and flung away in a rage which he made no attempt to disguise. jack's sentries, who again brought their rifles to the salute, shrank back before elbel's scowl as he passed out of the gate. jack was not ill-pleased with the result of the interview. you have always scored a point when the enemy loses his temper. apparently elbel did not intend to take strong measures himself. he knew the weakness of his position. the situation would be changed if a state officer was indeed on his way up the river: but jack did not allow himself to be disturbed by elbel's threat; his uncle would doubtless be back in a few days, and he had unbounded faith in mr. martindale's judgment and discretion. from that time he took care that either barney or himself should be always in the stockaded camp. his men had become a well-disciplined force, but he could not answer for their being able to act discreetly towards a white man whom they had reason to dread. for a day or two there was no sign of hostility from elbel. he did not repeat his visit, which jack did not feel called upon to return. but news came from ilola that, while the belgian's arrival had checked the ghastly ferocities of the forest guards, the chicotte had been still more freely in play than before. every man whose basket did not contain the requisite five kilos of rubber, or the quality of whose rubber did not approve itself to elbel, was unmercifully flogged. those with whom no fault could on any pretext be found were paid with perhaps a piece of cloth or some trumpery article which was useless to them, and which in many cases they threw away. imbono sent word one day that the most distant of his villages had been burnt. it contained a hundred adult male inhabitants, but only fifty had brought rubber to ilola, the remainder having been engaged in hunting down a herd of elephants which had been ravaging their crops. elbel had refused to accept the explanation. he had retained the fifty men as hostages, and sent a detachment of his forest guards to bring in the unruly fifty and burn their village down. jack could only express his sympathy: he felt that there was nothing to be done. one morning barney, who acted as storekeeper to the camp, reported that food was running short. "well, imbono will supply us," replied jack. "beggin' your pardon, sorr, imbono has little enough for himself since elbel and his blagyards came to the place. the thieving villains will have the best, and divil a ha'penny do they pay for it." "we must have food. when i was at akumbi the other day i saw a good crop of ground-nuts. i'll go over myself and see if i can arrange for a supply." akumbi was the smallest of the chief's villages, situated about five miles up the river. jack set off early with lepoko, taking the well-worn path through the fringe of forest. as he approached the village he heard cries of pain. instinctively he quickened his steps and hurried through the gateway in the stockade; then he came upon a scene that made his blood boil. tied to a tree was a youth, who, lepoko told him, was the son of lofundo, the sub-chief of the village. elbel was thrashing the captive with the chicotte, every lash cutting into the quivering flesh and provoking shrieks of agony. not another villager was to be seen; all had fled either into their huts or into the forest. infuriated at the sight, jack forgot all counsels of prudence. he rushed towards the spot, peremptorily calling on elbel to desist. the belgian swung round savagely, gave one disdainful look at the interrupter, and raised his arm with the intention of putting all his force into another stroke. but jack sprang at the uplifted arm, caught elbel by the wrist and arrested the blow. wrenching himself free, the belgian, livid with rage, made a fierce cut at jack. he was too near for the long lash to have the full effect intended; but jack felt the sting as the flexible thong curled round him. then his attitude changed. before, he had merely been conscious of a desire to protect the negro; now, he was afire with a personal grievance. elbel had not time to raise the whip for a second stroke. flinging out his left fist jack caught him a smashing blow on the cheek, and followed it up with a right-hander which hurled him half senseless to the ground. elbel staggered to his feet, presenting a piteous spectacle, blood streaming from his nose, his left eye half closed. he groped for his revolver, but the sight of jack standing over him, pale but determined, revolver in hand ready for the next move, cowed him. he fumbled for a few seconds at his belt, then slunk away without a word. [illustration: jack turns the tables] the village compound was immediately filled with a crowd of natives, who poured out of the huts: whence they had secretly watched the scene. jack was overwhelmed with protestations of gratitude. he cut the boy loose and restored him, bleeding from the lash, to his father. then he extricated himself from the excited throng, took lofundo aside, waived his demonstrations, and, completing the business on which he had come, left the village as soon as he could. now that the heat of the moment was passed, he feared he had not done the villagers or himself any good. a personal affray with elbel was the last thing he would have desired; and though he felt that he could hardly have acted otherwise than he had done, he was in anything but an elated mood when he returned to his camp. he at once told barney of what had occurred, and spoke of his misgivings. "arrah thin, sorr," said the irishman, "i do not see any cause for disthress at all at all. the villain got his deserts, and 'twill tache him a lesson. sure i'd like to have seen his face, the spalpeen!" "but i'd no right to interfere, barney; you can't get over that." "begging your pardon, sorr, i do not agree wid that at all. ye may say a father has the right to thrash his children; 'twas the holy solomon himself said so! but if he lays it on too heavy, the law steps in and says 'hands off!' a farmer has a right to get work out uv his horse; but if he overtaxes the poor baste, the law steps in again and says 'no more uv that.' these poor niggers seem to have to work widout fair pay, and pay rent into the bargain. that's more than an irishman would stand; and when the nigger-driver begins to maul 'em as well, worse than poor dumb beasts widout souls uv their own--be jabers! sorr, what would i do, if i saw a man ill-treating my pat? i would knock him down, sorr, if he was the lord-liftinant himself!" the fact that several days passed without any sign of resentment or vengeance on elbel's part did not make jack less uneasy. so far from his trouncing having a deterrent effect, the treatment of the natives became steadily worse. things were following the inevitable course. the vines in the neighbourhood of the village had yielded all the rubber of which they were at present capable, and the men had to go continually further afield. this necessitated their remaining for days at a time away from their homes, in improvised shelters which afforded poor protection against the weather and the wild beasts. they had to put up with indifferent food that gave scanty nourishment. when, having collected the rubber, they returned at last to their homes, they could only remain there a couple of days, for the next demand was upon them. meanwhile their families had been at the mercy of the forest guards. day by day complaints came to jack from imbono of the brutalities of these ruffians, some of them so horrible that his whole being quivered with passionate indignation. why did not his uncle return? how long must he remain helpless here, unable to lift a hand in defence of the oppressed? one evening, just as he had retired to rest, he was woke by barney and told that a strange negro had come to the gate and asked admittance. he had specially desired to see the inglesa. jack sent word that the man was to be brought to him, and awaited his coming outside the hut. the negro came up in charge of lepoko. by the light of his electric torch jack saw a tall man, so much emaciated that he appeared almost a skeleton. his cheeks were sunken in, his arms and legs were no thicker than a child's, and--what was this! the man held up one arm; the hand was gone! "who is he?" asked jack, shuddering at the sight of the half-healed stump. "him call batukuno, sah. come from nsongo. him carry baumba[2] to brudder, sah: ekila, him forest guard, meet batukuno, say, 'gib me baumba.' batukuno say, 'no can do: me carry to brudder.' rubber day come. batukuno bring basket; ekila say, 'rubber too much bad, batukuno.' batukuno say, 'no bad at all; good rubber all same.' ekila laugh, sah; cut off batukuno him hand." "just in revenge for not getting the baumba?" "rebenge, sah, rebenge, all same." "but how came he here?" "boy samba, sah. him tell batukuno inglesa massa good white man, brudder tanalay, oh yes! inglesa no 'fraid boloko, no 'fraid elobela; inglesa gib batukuno hut, gib food, gib plenty rings. him come long long way: hurt berrah much, sah, berrah sick; want eat, no can find nuff. him hide long time 'cos 'fraid boloko. now hab got massa; no 'fraid no more; boloko, elobela, dem 'fraid now." "where is samba then?" "samba him long long way: him go find fader and mudder." "i was right after all," said jack turning to barney. "i'm glad to hear the boy's alive. well, lepoko, take batukuno to one of the huts and give him some supper. another sign of king leopold's fatherly treatment, barney! uncle said they cut the hands from the dead, but it appears that the living are mutilated too." "the curse uv cromwell on them, sorr. but, begging your pardon, you made a mistake." "how's that?" "sure you said 'twas my irish english that sent little samba away." "did i?" said jack, laughing. "i'd forgotten it. he's a capital little fellow, barney. fancy, going by himself that long journey through the forest to find his people! and yet there are fools who think that because a man is black he hasn't feelings or affections like ourselves." batukuno was only the firstfruits of samba's missionary zeal. from day to day, men, women, and children began to drop in at jack's camp, many of them mutilated, all showing terrible signs of ill-usage and privation. some were survivors of samba's own people, the villagers of banonga; but they numbered among them men from other tribes. some had heard of the benevolent inglesa from samba's own lips; others from people he had told. among them was an old chief, who appeared heart-broken at having been compelled to leave his country. "why did i leave, you ask, o white man!" he said in reply to a question of jack's. "in the morning, bullets; in the evening, bullets. they shot our mouths away, they shot through our hearts and our sides. they robbed us of everything we had. why should we stay to be killed like that? that is why i ran away." "were many of your people killed?" "ah, ah!" he replied, "once we were as bafumba[3] in multitude; now we are only as these." he spread out his fingers twice or thrice. "and they have been killed--not dying by the sleeping sickness?" "no. we have lost a few by the sleeping sickness, but only a few. it is rubber that has killed our people. botofé bo le iwa!" jack's sympathy was keenly enlisted on behalf of these unfortunate people; and he looked forward more and more eagerly for mr. martindale's return. he could not but smile a little whimsically, remembering his uncle's protestations, to find that mr. martindale was gaining a reputation for general philanthropy through a large section of the upper congo territory. but as the stream of fugitives showed no signs of diminishing he began to feel a certain embarrassment. it was all very well to open a cave adullam for every one that was distressed: to start a hospital for the halt and lame and blind; but the space he had at command within his stockade was limited: already the huts he had reserved for mr. martindale and his men were occupied, and every fugitive meant another mouth to feed. he feared, too, lest the peace and order of his settlement should be disturbed by the influx of so many idle strangers. and more than all, he feared that some of the poor wretches who came seeking asylum with him would fall into the hands of elbel ere they reached their desired haven. it was that consideration that induced him to refuse none who sought admittance. elbel had been absent for some days from ilola, and the fugitives, by choosing always the fall of night to approach the place, had so far managed to elude observation by their enemies. but that could not continue; the presence of strangers in ilombikambua must soon become known to elbel; then a watch would be set, and the wanderers would be intercepted. what their fate then would be jack knew too well. none suffered so terribly at the hands of the forest guards as people caught straying from their villages. such absences interfered with the regularity of the rubber supply, which in turn affected the revenue and reduced profits. no runagate serf in mediæval europe was more severely dealt with than the congo native who dared to range afield. jack could not hand the people over to elbel's tender mercies; yet it would soon be impossible to find room for more. while he was puzzling how to deal with this perplexing situation it was suddenly made still more complicated. early one morning he heard pat barking with more than his usual vigour, and with a note of wild pleasure which he had not expressed for many a day. leaving his hut to ask what had happened, he was met by the terrier, who ran up to him, leaped this way and that, darted off towards the gate, then back again, all the time barking with frantic joy. in a moment jack saw the meaning of the dog's excitement. samba himself was running towards him! the boy flung himself down at jack's feet, paying no attention even to pat. "i am glad to see you, very glad," said jack in samba's own tongue. "what have you been doing?" his knowledge of the language was not great enough to permit him to follow samba's answer, poured out as it was with great rapidity, and a pitiful earnestness that brought a lump to jack's throat. but lepoko was at hand, and translated faithfully. samba was in terrible distress. he had found his father and mother, and had brought them through peril and privation to the very verge of safety, when they fell among a number of forest guards evidently placed to intercept fugitives. all three were captured and taken to boloko, who was beside himself with delight at the sight of his brother mboyo a prisoner. he had a special grudge against him, dating from their old rivalry in banonga. elbel had just returned from a visit to outlying villages; the prisoners had been carried before him, and when boloko explained who they were, the belgian ordered them to be tied up, and sentenced them to be thrashed publicly on the next day. samba had contrived to escape from custody, and had now come to implore the inglesa to save his parents. they were so worn out by their long journey, so ill from the hardships they had suffered, that they would certainly die under the whip. "poor little fellow!" said jack, laying his hand soothingly on the boy's head. "the whipping is to be to-morrow? you are sure?" yes; elobela would be absent this day; he would not return till the evening. the flogging was fixed for dawn on the following morning. "come into my hut; we will see what can be done. barney, you come too." "niggers have no feelings!" said barney, releasing pat from the grasp in which he had been struggling while samba told his story. "begorra! they might as well say the same uv dogs!" [1] any kind of letter or document. [2] riches. [3] driver ants. chapter xiii "honour thy father and thy mother" jack felt himself in a distressing predicament. could he allow samba's father and mother, for whom he suspected the boy must have made heroic exertions, to undergo a punishment which, as he had learnt from more than one of the refugees, frequently ended in the death of the victim? yet how prevent it? whatever might be urged against it, the use of the chicotte had become established as a recognized instrument of administration in the congo free state. as a stranger and a foreigner he had, to begin with, no right to interfere, and his previous relations with elbel had been such that a protest and an attempt at dissuasion would be equally useless. his action on behalf of lofundo's son had been taken on the spur of the moment; it would not dispose elbel to pay any attention to calmer and more deliberate measures now. even a threat to report him would probably have no effect on the belgian. he was only doing what the officers of the state, or the officials of the trusts holding authority from the state, were accustomed to do, whether by themselves or their agents. a protest from jack would merely aggravate the punishment of the wretched people. although elbel had not taken any open step against jack since their last meeting, the latter felt assured that he was nursing his spite and only awaiting a favourable opportunity to indulge it. indeed it was likely that something had already been done. perhaps elbel was in communication with boma. he had mentioned that a captain of the state forces was on his way up the river; for all that jack knew the officer might deal very summarily with him when he arrived. that elbel would tamely endure the humiliation he had suffered jack did not for a moment believe. jack put these points to barney. "if i attempt to do anything for samba's people," he added, "i must be prepared to back up my demands by force, and that will mean bloodshed. i can't run the risk, barney. uncle left me in charge, and, as i've told you, said i wasn't to fight except in self-defence." "bedad, sorr, but he'd fight himself if he were here." "that may be, but i can't take the responsibility." "cannot we get the people out uv the scoundhrel's clutches widout fighting, sorr? the bhoy escaped, to be sure." "true; how did you get away, samba?" the boy explained that he had been imprisoned separately from his parents: he did not know why. they had been chained by the neck and fastened to a tree in front of boloko's hut; he had been roped by the ankle and secured to another tree farther away. in the middle of the night he had wriggled and strained at his bonds until, after much toil and pain, he had released his foot. then, when the sentry's back was turned, he had slipped away, stolen behind the huts, and with great difficulty clambered over the stockade. "and are your parents still chained to the tree?" samba did not know. he had not ventured to approach them after releasing himself, for his sole hope was in the inglesa, and if he were recaptured he knew that his parents' fate was sealed. but if the inglesa wished, he would steal back into the village and see if the prisoners were still at the same spot. "that will never do," said jack. "the boy would certainly be caught, barney." "that's the truth, sorr. but 'tis the morning for lingombela to go to the village for eggs; could he not find out what you wish to know?" "he's a discreet fellow. yes, let him try. he must be very careful. i wonder that elbel has not forbidden our men to go into the village; and if he suspects any interference there'll be trouble." barney went out to send lingombela on his errand. meanwhile jack got samba to tell him, through lepoko, how he had found his parents. the boy gave briefly the story of his wanderings, his perils from the wild beasts of the forest, his hunger and want, his capture by the bambute, his escape, his adventure with the crocodile, his second capture and more successful escape under cover of a great forest storm. jack was deeply impressed at the time; but many of the details came to him later from others, and each new fact added to his admiration for the indomitable young traveller. the pigmies who had captured samba at the river were a different tribe from those with whom he had lived in the forest. like those, however, they made much of him, giving him plenty of food, but never letting him go out of their sight. one night, a fierce tempest swept through the forest, snapping great trees and whirling them about like feathers. thunder crashed, lightning cut black paths through the foliage; and the bambute cowered in their huts, dreading lest these should be crushed by a falling tree or scorched by the lightning's flame, yet feeling safer within than without. but samba rejoiced in the elemental disturbance. reckless of the terrors of the storm in his fixed determination to escape, he stole out when the uproar was at its height and plunged into the forest. all other peril was banished by the fury of the tempest. once he passed a leopard within a few feet, but the beast was too much scared by the lightning to seize the opportunity of securing an easy meal. after many days of wandering and privation samba came within a day's journey of what had been his village. stumbling accidentally upon one of his fellow-villagers, he told him his story, and was taken by him to a cave in the forest where several of the fugitives from banonga were in hiding, some badly wounded. samba came to them like a sunbeam. what he told them about mr. martindale gave them courage and hope. some set off at once to seek out the inglesa whose praise samba was so loud in singing; they would implore his protection: others, more timorous or less hardy, dreading the long and toilsome journey, resolved to remain where they were, for they were at least in no straits for food. none of them could give samba any news of his parents: so after remaining a day or two with them he went on alone. he reached the site of the desolated village in the evening, and took refuge in the branches of a tree. his intention was to push on next day and search the forest beyond the village. but with morning light something impelled him to wander round the scene of his happy childhood. here had stood his father's hut; there, not far away, the old chief mirambo had dwelt. it seemed to samba that the place was altered in appearance since he had left it in company with mr. martindale. an attempt had been made to repair the ruins of mirambo's hut. somewhat startled, samba approached it curiously, and was still more startled to hear low groans proceeding from a spot where a corner of the site had been covered with rough thatch. entering, he discovered with mingled joy and terror that his father and mother lay there, nearly dead from wounds and starvation. with the negro's instinct for returning to his old haunts, mboyo had come back with his wife to banonga, and managed to rig up a precarious shelter in his father's shattered hut. then his strength failed him. he had been wounded in the attack on the village, but had made good his escape to the forest with his favourite wife. his other wives and children had disappeared; of them he never heard again. the unwonted exposure soon told upon his wife lukela; she fell ill, and, weakened as mboyo was by his wounds, they were unable to scour the forest as they might otherwise have done for food. as the days passed their condition had gone from bad to worse, and at last they had painfully, despairingly, made their way back to their old home, to die. but samba did not mean them to die. he set himself at once to rescue them. as he knew well, there was little or no food near by; the wanton destruction of plantations had been very thorough. they were too weak to travel. he emptied his tin, to which he had clung through all his wanderings, of the food it contained, and making a rough barrier for them against wild beasts, cheered them with hopeful words and started back on his tracks for a further supply of food. when he reached the cavern where he had left his fellow-villagers, he found it empty. apparently even the timid ones had set off to seek the protection of the good inglesa. he could do nothing that night, but next morning he went down to the stream whence they had obtained their supply of fish and plied his spear until he had caught several. then he made the long journey back, filling his tin as he went with berries and nuts and anything else from which nourishment could be obtained. his parents were already a little better, thanks to the food he had already given them, and perhaps also to the new spirit awakened in them by the unexpected arrival of their dearly loved son. thus for several days samba watched over them, making long journeys for food. each time he left them his absence became more prolonged; food was harder to get, and he was less able to hunt for it. while his parents slowly regained a little strength, samba weakened from day to day. at last he could scarcely drag one foot after the other; he was worn out by the terrible fatigue of constant marching through the forest, and by want of sleep, for he stinted himself of rest so that his parents might be left alone as little as possible. more than once he sank exhausted to the ground, feeling that he could go no farther, do no more. his strength was spent; his head swam with dizziness; a mist gathered before his eyes. thus he would remain, half conscious, perhaps for minutes, perhaps for hours; he knew not: he had lost count of time. then with the enforced rest the small remnant of his strength returned to him, and with it the memory of his parents' plight. upon him depended the life of the two beings he held dearest in the world. as the perils to which they were exposed were borne in upon his fevered intelligence he would struggle to his feet, and grope his way painfully along the forest track, his feet blistered, his flesh torn with spikes and thorns: above all, a dreadful gnawing hunger within him, for he would scarcely spare himself sufficient food for bare sustenance while his parents were ill and in want. this dark and terrible period was illumined by one ray of hope. his weariness and toil were bearing fruit. day by day his parents grew stronger; in a fortnight they were able to move about, and a week later they were ready to start for the cavern. but now it was samba who required tendance. he could walk only a few yards at a time, supported by mboyo, who almost despaired of reaching the cavern before starvation again overtook them. but the weary journey was completed at last, and after a few days' stay at the cavern within easier reach of food, the party became fit to undertake a longer march, and set out hopefully for mr. martindale's camp. jack could only conjecture what the terrors of that march had been, for before samba's story was finished lepoko returned from the village. he reported that elobela, furious at the boy's escape, had announced that he would double the punishment to be meted out to his parents. this practice of striking at children through parents, and at parents through children, was so much the rule in the congo system of tax collection that jack did not doubt elbel would carry out his threat. meanwhile the two prisoners had been removed from the open air before boloko's hut at the far side of the village, and conveyed to a stoutly-built fetish hut near the stockade. this change of quarters had provoked murmurs not only from the villagers, but from elbel's own men. the fetish hut was sacred to the medicine man of the village, and even he affected to approach it with fear and trembling. the whole population was talking about the desecration of the hut by the presence of the two captives; men were shaking their heads and saying that something would happen; and the medicine man himself--a hideous figure with his painted skin--did not fail to seize the opportunity of inflaming the minds of the villagers against the impious white man. but no one ventured to remonstrate with elbel. he meanwhile had gone off with a number of forest guards to an outlying village, leaving orders that the captives were to be watched with particular vigilance. samba's face was an image of despair as he listened to lepoko's report. what hope was there of his parents' rescue now? "poor little chap!" said jack. "after going through so much for them he'll be heart-broken if he loses them now. what can we do for him, barney?" "faith, i can see nothing for it, sorr, but to lead a storming party. and i would go first, wid the greatest pleasure in life." "that's out of the question, especially as elbel's away. all's fair in war, they say, barney; but i shouldn't like to attack the village in elbel's absence. in any case i don't want to fight if there's any other way. samba, run away with pat; don't go beyond the gate; i want to see if i can think of any way of helping your parents." both the white men were touched by the boy's wistful look as he left the hut. jack stuck his legs out straight in front of him, plunged his hands into his pockets, and bent his head upon his breast as he pondered and puzzled. barney sat for a time leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, smoking an old clay pipe. but he soon tired of inaction, and rising, proceeded to open a tin of oatmeal biscuits in anticipation of lunch. he had just wrenched the lid off when jack sprang up with a sudden laugh and slapped him on the shoulder. "i have it, barney!" he cried. "they said something would happen; well, they were right; something shall happen, old man. and it's your doing!" "mine, sorr! niver a thing have i done this blessed day but smoke me pipe, and just this very minute tear a hole in my hand wid this confounded tin." "that's it, barney! it was the tin gave me the idea. you know how giants are made for the christmas pantomimes?" "divil a bit, sorr." "well, don't look so surprised. empty that tin of biscuits while i tell you, and when that's empty, open another and do the same." "bedad, sorr, but all the biscuits will spoil." "let 'em spoil, man, let 'em spoil. no, i don't mean that, but at present i think more of the tissue paper in those tins than of the biscuits. we'll make a framework, barney--any stalks or sticks will do for that--and cover it with that tissue paper, and paint a giant's face and shoulders on the paper, and we must find some coloured glass or something for the eyes, and something white for the teeth. we have some candles left, luckily. don't you think, barney, a lighted candle behind the paper would make a very decent sort of bogie?" "and is that the way, sorr, they make the giants at the pantomime?" "something like that, barney. but what do you think of the idea?" "'tis the divil's own cleverness in it, sorr. but i'll niver enjoy a pantomime any more, now that i know the way 'tis done. and how will ye go to work wid the bogie, sorr?" "why, we'll make the framework to fit my shoulders. then you'll see. the first thing is to get it made. go and get the materials. we shall want sticks about three feet long, and ngoji cane[1] to tie them together, as there are no nails here. and you must send over to imbono and ask for some colouring matter. red and black are all we shall need. i don't know what we shall do for the eyes; there's no coloured glass handy, i suppose. we must do without if we can't find anything. now, hurry up, barney, and send lepoko to me." for the rest of the day jack and barney were very busy in the hut. it was an easy matter to put the bamboo framework together. the tissue paper from the two biscuit tins proved just sufficient to cover it. when this was done, jack sketched with his pencil as ugly a face as his artistic imagination was capable of suggesting, then laid on the pigments with his shaving brush, no other being at hand. he gave the giant very thick red lips, opened in a hideous grin, heightening the effect by carefully tying in a number of goat's teeth. the eyes presented a difficulty. no coloured glass could be found among any of the villagers' treasures, and after several attempts to supply its place with leaves, petals of red flowers, and glass beads stuck together, jack decided that the best effect would be made by leaving the eye slits empty. the making of the bogie was kept a close secret between himself and barney; but he got some of his men to make two light bamboo ladders, which they did with great expedition, wondering not a little to what use lokolobolo would put them. in the afternoon, as soon as he was assured that his bogie would turn out a success, jack sent lepoko into ilola to foment the villagers' fear that the desecration of the fetish hut would certainly be followed by a visit from the offended spirit. he was to talk very seriously of a great medicine man he had once met on the coast, who knew all about the spirits of the streams and woods, and those who protected the forest villages. one of these spirits, said the medicine man, took the form of a giant, and any mortal upon whom he breathed would surely die. jack knew that this story would be repeated by the villagers to the forest guards, and would soon be the property of the whole community. reckoning upon the fact that elbel had his quarters near the gate of the stockade, and that the fetish hut was on the opposite side of the enclosure, not far from the stockade itself, so that the whole width of the village separated them, jack hoped to create such a panic among the superstitious sentries that he would have time to free the captives before elbel could intervene. at dead of night, when he believed that the enemy must be sound asleep, jack left his camp silently, accompanied only by samba. he himself carried the bogie; the boy had the ladders. but even his own parents would not have recognized the samba of this midnight sortie. jack had been much interested on the way up the congo by a kind of acacia which, when cut with an axe, exudes a sticky substance, emitting in the darkness a strong phosphorescent glow. with this substance a series of rings had been drawn on samba's body, and he wore on his head a number of palm leaves arranged like the prince of wales's feathers, smeared with the same sticky material. he made an awful imp in attendance on the horrific monster. samba stepping close behind jack to avoid observation, the two made their way stealthily around the village, keeping within the fringe of the encircling forest. then jack fixed the bogie upon his shoulders, lighted the candles placed in sconces of twigs cunningly constructed by barney, and crept forward towards the stockade, closely followed by samba, both bending low so as to escape discovery before the right moment. lepoko had reported that two sentries had been placed over the fetish hut. jack guessed that by this time their nerves would be at pretty high tension, and that they would not improbably be keeping a safe distance from the awful place they had been set to guard. one of the ladders was planted by samba against the stockade. on this jack mounted, and the hideous countenance rose slowly and majestically above the palisade. a small oil lamp swung from the eaves of the hut. by its light jack saw the two sentries some distance away, but near enough to keep an eye on the entrance so that the inmates could not break out unnoticed. at first they did not see the apparition. to quicken their perception, jack gave a weird chuckle--a sound that would have startled even sturdy english schoolboys in the depth of night. the negroes turned round instantly; there was one moment of silence: then shrieking with fear they rushed helter-skelter into the darkness. taking the second ladder from samba, jack calmly descended on the other side, and was quickly followed by the boy. the latter made straight for the fetish hut. a light shone through the entrance immediately he had entered; there was a muffled shriek; then voices in rapid talk, followed by the sound of heavy hammering. by the light of jack's electric torch samba was breaking the fetters. by this time the whole village was astir. at the first instant of alarm every man, woman, and child gave utterance to a yell; but as soon as they caught sight of the dreadful apparition, the vengeful spirit whose visit had been predicted, the giant with hideous jaw and flaming eyes, they ceased their cries, and scampered in awestruck silence across the compound towards the gate. slowly samba's parents limped out of the hut after him, and with his assistance mounted the ladder and descended on the other side of the stockade. jack had bidden samba take them for a time into the forest. to harbour them in his camp would involve further embroilment with elbel, a thing to be avoided if possible. they had barely disappeared in the darkness when a shot rang out, and jack felt something strike the framework above his head. elbel had been awakened from sleep by the first yell, but on leaving his hut found himself enveloped in so thick a crowd of quivering, panic-stricken negroes that he could neither see what had caused their alarm nor get an answer to his irritable questions. the delay had been just long enough to allow the prisoners to escape. jack heard elbel's voice raging at the people. as another shot whizzed by he reached up and extinguished the candles, then slipped over the stockade, drawing the ladder after him. burdened with the bogie and the two ladders he hastened away into the forest. for some minutes he wandered about, missing the guidance of samba, who was with his parents. at length he struck the path, and making his best speed regained his camp. barney was awaiting him at the gate with loaded rifle, the trained men drawn up under arms. "the bogie did it!" he cried, feeling very hot and tired now that his task was accomplished. "praise be!" ejaculated barney. "eyes front! present arrms! dismiss!" [1] this abounds in the forest, and is alike nails, string, and rope for the natives. chapter xiv lokolobolo's first fight "i am afraid we are in for it now," said jack, as he sat with barney, when the camp had become quiet, discussing the situation. "elbel will know well enough who played the bogie, and he has now another grievance against me. i wonder what he will do." "i would not disthress meself about it at all, sorr," said barney. "he had a peep at a pepper's ghost widout paying for a ticket, and 'tis himself that ought to be plased." "don't you ever have a fit of the dumps, barney? you seem to live always in the top of spirits." "what would be the good uv doing anything else, sorr? i've too little flesh on me bones now; what would i be if i grizzled?" "i'm glad enough, i assure you. i don't know what i should have done without you. uncle little imagined what he was leaving me to. do you think anything has happened to him? it is three months since he went away, and five weeks since i had any news of him. i am getting anxious." "'tis true he is behind, like the cow's tail, sorr. an 'tis meself can explain it. ye see, sorr, i've noticed wan thing about these niggers. time is not much to an irishman, to be sure, but 'tis less than nothing to a nigger. they don't keep count uv the days; an almanac would be clean beyond them; and 'tis my belief nando has just put the master back a month, sorr, unbeknown." "that's an original explanation, at any rate. but by jove! here's samba again. what does he want now?" "him say mudder lib for plenty sick, sah," said lepoko, called in to interpret. "mudder plenty tired fust; muss stand all de night in hut; no gib no food; her no can go no more; tumble down in forest. samba say please massa, let fader and mudder come; please, please, massa, please, massa, him say please massa plenty too much all time." "we must have them in, i suppose," said jack, unable to resist the appeal in samba's eyes and gestures. "i didn't want them here, they only add to our dangers and difficulties. let him fetch them, lepoko; he must be careful; if they are captured again they are sure to be shot." samba's face shone with delight. he scampered away. an hour passed before he returned. mboyo was carrying his wife in his arms; she was in the last stage of exhaustion. they were given shelter in lepoko's hut; and that night, when samba curled himself up to sleep with pat, for the first time for many weeks he was a happy boy. jack had but just finished his breakfast next morning when a note was brought him from elbel. monsieur,-on m'a fait informer que les deux individus échappés de ce village sont a présent réfugiés dans votre camp. j'ai l'honneur de vous sommer de rendre ces individus immédiatement, en outre le petit garçon dont j'ai déjà demandé la reddition. au cas que lesdits sujets de petat du congo ne soient pas ramenés dans ce village avant midi cejourd'hui, je serai obligé de faire à leur égard des démarches qui me sembleront bonnes. agréez, monsieur, l'assurance de ma considération distinguée, elbel, _agent de la société cosmopolite du commerce du congo_. "what do you think of this, barney? he says he's been told that the two persons who escaped from ilola are now in my camp. he has the honour to request that i will give them up at once. listen: 'in case the said subjects of the congo state are not brought back to this village by noon to-day, i shall be compelled to take such steps in regard to them as may seem to me good.' very precise and formal. my answer shall be a little shorter." he lost no time in penning his reply. he wrote: sir,-the three people you mention are with me. i shall be glad to learn the offence with which they are charged, and by what authority you take it upon yourself to try them and punish them. yours truly, john challoner. "we shall get no answer to that, barney." but he was mistaken. a second note was brought him in which elbel refused to explain or justify his actions to monsieur challoner. he was responsible to his société and to the administration of the free state. he repeated his threat that at twelve o'clock, failing compliance with his demand, he would take steps to recover the fugitives, and concluded by saying that monsieur challoner must be answerable for the consequences. "the fat's in the fire now, sorr," said barney, when jack had translated this letter to him. "i suppose you'll just say 'go and be hanged' in answer to that?" "no. i shan't answer it on paper. the crisis has come at last, barney. i couldn't attack elbel yesterday and be responsible for the first blow. but things are changed now. his action in regard to these poor people is sheer persecution; they've sought my protection, and no englishman that i ever heard of has given up a wretch fleeing from persecution. we'll have to stand firm now, barney. elbel shan't get hold of them if i can prevent it." "i'm wid ye, sorr, heart and soul. sure an irishman is not the man to stand by and see poor people ill-treated. what'll we do to get ready for him, sorr?" "you can go and get some of the men to rig up platforms at several points inside the stockade. what a lucky thing it was we taught 'em how to board and floor the huts! those planks will come in handy now. and stay: set two or three men to bore loopholes in the stockade--not our riflemen; the men who've lost their right hands can manage that, perhaps, with their left if they try. meanwhile, parade the riflemen. i'll come out to them in a few minutes." when the men were paraded, jack felt very proud of his little company. they were all alert, eager, ready. jack explained to them through lepoko what the difficulty was. "i don't want you to fight against your will," he said. "if any man is unwilling to fight he may leave the camp if he chooses, or remain and do any other work required. but if he elects to fight he must obey orders, do his best, and never give in. you understand that: never give in!" the men responded with loud cries of approval. not a man of them fell out of the ranks. the exercise and drill they had undergone had filled them with military ardour; they were proud of their new accomplishments, and evidently eager to test them in earnest. and the white officials were so well hated that the opportunity of setting one at defiance was in itself a sufficient motive. jack paid them a compliment on their readiness to serve--the negro dearly loves praise--and after inspecting each man's rifle and ammunition, dismissed them to various duties in the camp until the moment for action arrived. the day's water supply had scarcely been got in, and there were no vessels at hand for storing a large quantity. the stock of food in the camp was sufficient to keep the whole population for three days on full rations, and might be eked out for a week or more if each man's allowance was reduced. it was inevitable that the idea of a siege should cross jack's mind, and he foresaw that the difficulty about water would prove serious. meanwhile, he could at least send out a few men to obtain supplies of food from the chief's other villages. he chose for this errand the men least likely to be useful as fighters, and impressed on them the necessity of avoiding elbel's men. it would not be long before elbel had the surrounding country closely patrolled, and then no man would be able to approach without taking his life in his hand. what supplies they should succeed in collecting were to be held concealed in the forest until there was an opportunity of conveying them into the camp without danger. there were now within his stockade, besides himself and barney, twenty-two men armed with rifles; the chief mboyo, with his wife and samba; fifteen men, ten women, and twenty-five children who had sought asylum with him; and the livestock of the natives--a few goats and fowls. pat was one by himself. there were rifles for twenty men besides the twenty-two, but the fugitives were too much maimed, or too much reduced in strength by their sufferings, to make it seem worth while to arm them. four or five, however, had recovered very rapidly, and seemed likely to prove useful recruits. they had at any rate enough reason for fighting well; not only on behalf of their chief, but in memory of their own sufferings. pending an opportunity of teaching them the use of the rifle, jack armed them with spears and employed them as sentries. a careful watch was kept to guard against surprise, which was little likely to occur in broad daylight across the wide open space between the two settlements. jack awaited with no little anxiety the approach of noon, trying to forecast elbel's course of action. the belgian had, so far as he had been able to gather, about sixty men armed with albini rifles, with probably as many hangers-on; but the natives' conceptions of arithmetic are so vague that this information could not be relied on; the actual number might be larger or smaller. it was not likely that the followers of the forest guards could be utilized as fighting men; but the guards themselves were well armed and full of confidence, for they had become accustomed to lording it over the virtually unarmed and helpless populace from whose forced labour the congo free state derives its profits. jack was quite prepared to find that elbel, knowing that his opponent's men had but recently been armed, and were not, like his own men, to all intents professional soldiers, would think himself strong enough to rush the camp, especially as, since the day of his arrival, the belgian had appeared to show no further interest in the force at jack's disposal. "perhaps he thinks we've drilled them merely for parade," he remarked with a smile to barney. "but i think he'll find we can hold our own. i'm not afraid of a direct attack. but if he tries to starve us out it'll be a different matter. i'm bothered about the water." "be aisy, sorr. whin i was a bhoy me mother often did not know at breakfast time where the supper was coming from; but i only went to bed wance widout it, and that was whin i'd eaten it before the time, and was put to bed early as a punishment." soon after twelve o'clock the sentries reported that the white man was approaching from the direction of the village. jack hastened to the platform near the gate, which he had had barricaded, and saw elbel at the head of about forty men, at his side a negro bearing a white flag. about fifty yards from the stockade he halted, and formally demanded the surrender of the fugitives. in phrases as formal as his own jack replied that they would not be given up. while this brief exchange of courtesies was going on, the sentries stationed on similar platforms within the stockade had turned round with natural curiosity to see what was passing, and withdrew their attention from the ground they were supposed to be watching. all at once jack felt a tug at his arm, and looking round, saw samba excitedly pointing to the rear of the camp. a score of elbel's riflemen were scurrying across the open ground. to jack's surprise they were headed by a white man in military uniform. was this the captain van vorst, he wondered, who, elbel had told him, was coming up the river? had he to contend with a regular officer of the state as well as an official of the concession? one thing was clear, that while his attention was being held by the parade of the men in front, an attempt was being made to rush the camp from the rear. jack gave no sign of his discovery, but quietly ordered barney to take ten men with rifles and five with spears and deal with the attackers when their heads or hands appeared above the stockade. "keep out of sight until they're upon you," he added in a low tone. "fifteen men on the platform will be equal to more than double their number trying to scramble over." he had kept his face turned towards elbel as he spoke, apparently intent upon a serious consideration of what the belgian was saying. "i varn you. dis is not child's play. vunce more i say gif up de people; den i interfere no more. i am satisfied. but if you refuse, den i repeat: i will haf de people, and you shall see vat it is to defy de officers of de free state." jack was spared the necessity of replying. a series of yells and cries of pain told that the rear attack had begun. next moment a couple of shots rang out from the trees behind elbel, and jack, whose head just appeared over the stockade, felt one bullet whistle close above his topee, while a second embedded itself beside him in one of the saplings of which the stockade was constructed. taken in conjunction with the attempted surprise, this was as close an approximation to the methods of an assassin as could well be imagined; and jack, as he dodged down out of harm's way, felt, not for the first time, that he had to deal with a man who was not only astute but quite unscrupulous. in less than a minute the attack on the stockade had become general. the assailants showed no want of dash. perhaps they were encouraged by the impunity with which they had hitherto made their assaults on native villages similarly protected. but the conditions were different now. the defenders were armed with weapons as precise and deadly as those of the attackers themselves. elbel's men came forward at a rush, in a more or less compact body, and jack was amply satisfied with the result of his training as his men, at a sign from him, poured a volley through the loopholes bored in the stockade, while the enemy were still a dozen yards distant. several of them dropped; jack's men were completely screened from any effectual reply. the moral effect of white leadership became apparent when the forest guards, scarcely realizing their losses in the excitement of their dash towards the stockade, helped one another to swarm up, many effecting a lodgment on the top. it was at this point that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the defenders of an african village would have flung away their arms and run. but the discipline of the past two months told. at jack's command, before the enemy on the stockade had made their footing sufficiently sure to enable them to use their weapons, the men within, clubbing their rifles, sprang at them and hurled them to the ground. meanwhile barney, who thanks to samba's watchfulness had been enabled to forestall the surprise in the rear, had beaten off the attack and sent the enemy scurrying for cover. leaving only three or four men under lepoko to watch the position there, jack was able to bring almost the whole of his force to bear on repelling the main attack. elbel had greatly reduced his chances of success by detaching a third of his body; and he entirely lost their co-operation, for when they were repulsed by barney they made no attempt to rally, but simply disappeared from the fight. elbel and his men were crouching at the foot of the stockade in temporary security, for in that position the defenders could not bring their rifles to bear upon them. jack heard him give his men an order; in a few seconds a crowd of black heads again appeared above the stockade, but now some thirty yards from the point where the first assault had been made. with barney at his right hand jack led his men to the spot. from his platform he might have shot the attackers down with comparative ease; but he was determined from the first to do his best to avoid bloodshed, never forgetting his uncle's injunction to use rifles only in the last resort. the enemy themselves had no chance of firing, for they no sooner showed their heads above the palisade than they were beset by the defenders. there was a brisk five minutes in which jack and barney found plenty to do leading their men wherever the show of heads, hands, and shoulders over the stockade was thickest. barney was in his element. his rifle fell like a flail, and for every blow that got home he shouted a wild "hurroo!" which evoked responsive yells from the negroes beside him, catching his enthusiasm. jack's heart glowed as he saw how stoutly they fought. it was not until the enemy had made two attempts to mount the stockade that they realized how very different their present task was from the massacre of unresisting men, women, and children that had hitherto represented their idea of fighting. the first repulse merely surprised and enraged them: they could not understand it; they were not accustomed to such a reception; and they yelled forth threats of exacting a terrible vengeance. but when for the second time they found themselves hurled back, they had no heart for further effort. suddenly elbel discovered that he was alone, except for one man lying stark beside him; the unwounded had scampered across the open to the shelter of the nearest trees. some half dozen who had been hit with rifle bullets or clubbed at the palisade, were dragging themselves painfully towards the same shelter. jack, watching from his platform, perceived that elbel was not among the retreating crowd. was he hurt, he wondered? the next moment, however, he saw the belgian sprint after his men, bending his head between his shoulders as a boy does to avoid a snowball. several of jack's men who had joined him on the platform brought their rifles to the shoulder, and only a curt stern order from jack to drop their weapons saved elbel from almost certain death. "bedad, thin, 'tis a pity not to let them have their way, sorr," expostulated barney. "that may be," replied jack, "but i'm only on the defensive, remember. we're in no danger for the present; they've had enough of it; it's not for me to continue the fight. i hope elbel has learnt a lesson and will leave us alone." "sure i do not agree wid you at all at all, sorr," said barney, shaking his head. "to judge by the phiz uv him, elbel is a disp'rate bad character. and isn't it all his deeds that prove it, with his whips and his forest guards--blagyards i call 'em--and all? why, sorr, whin ye knocked him down the other day, why didn't he stand up fair and square and have it out wid ye? 'twas an illigant chance which no gentleman, no irishman, bedad! would have missed for worlds. gentleman! 'tis not the fortieth part uv a gentleman he has anywhere about him. 'twas not the trick uv a gentleman to try to take ye by the back stairs while he blarneyed ye at the front door. and did he not try to murder ye before the fight began? a dirty trick, sorr; i would have let my men shoot him widout the hundredth part uv a scruple." jack was compelled to smile at barney's honest indignation. "all you say is very true," he said, "but we couldn't take a leaf out of his book, you know, barney. besides, look at it in another way. suppose we shot elbel? what would happen to uncle's mining venture? there's another belgian here--i wonder where he came from. apparently he has skedaddled. he'd certainly go and report to the authorities what had happened. you may be sure he wouldn't put our side of the case; and even if he did, there's no knowing how the free state people would twist the evidence. they say the free state judges are completely under the thumb of the executive. no doubt elbel himself--who i suppose has to account for the cartridges his men use--will report this fight as a little affair with natives revolting against the rubber collection. he hasn't come well enough out of it to be anxious to call general attention to the matter. we've got off with a few bruises, i'm thankful to say; and we may very well be satisfied to let the quarrel rest there if elbel takes no further steps." barney shook his head. "ye're a powerful hand at argyment, sorr," he said, "and ye'd be elected at the top uv the poll if ye stood as mimber uv parlimint for kilkenny. but an irishman niver goes by argyment: he goes by his feelings, and my feeling is that there's no good at all in a man who refuses such an illigant chance uv a stand-up fight." "well, he's not altogether a ruffian. look! there are three of his negroes coming with a flag of truce, to fetch the poor fellow who was killed, i expect. the state officials as a rule look on the negro as so much dirt; but elbel seems to have some of the instincts of a human being." "bedad thin, i wouldn't be surprised if they're cannibals come for their dinner." "shut up, barney. it's too terrible to think of. you'll take away my appetite; here's samba, coming to tell us, i hope, that dinner's ready." jack scanned the neighbourhood. save for the negroes carrying their dead comrade there was no sign of the enemy. he left two sentries on guard and returned to his hut, hot and famished. the sultry heat of the tropical afternoon settled down over the camp. outside the stockade all was still; inside, the natives squatted in front of their huts, volubly discussing the incidents of the morning, and watching the antics of pat, who, having been tied up, much to his disgust, during the fight, was profiting by his liberty to romp with the children. the victory did not pass unchronicled. before the negroes retired to rest, one of them had composed a song which will be handed down from father to son and become a tradition of his tribe:- to the house of the dog to fight lokolobolo. inglesa was he, brave lokolobolo, lion and leopard, friend of imbono, chief of ilola. came elobela, (_chorus_) yah! bad elobela, (_chorus_) yo! to the house of the dog came lokolobolo, (_chorus_) yah! yo! short was the fight. where is he now, sad elobela? gone to the forest, beating his head, hiding his eyes from lokolobolo, friend of imbono, lion and leopard, brave lokolobolo. chapter xv a revolt at ilola every day since the advent of elbel, jack had been conscious of the growing danger of his position. a negro village, in the grip of rubber collectors; adjacent to it, a little settlement occupied mainly by negroes, many of whom were fugitives from a tyranny illegal indeed, but regularized by custom; in both settlements, natives who looked to him for help against their oppressors. it was a situation difficult enough to daunt the pluckiest lad not yet eighteen. but it is lads like jack challoner who make one of the prime glories of our anglo-saxon race. is not page after page of our national annals filled with the deeds of youths--drummers, buglers, ensigns, midshipmen--who have stepped forward in moments of crisis, and shown a noble courage, a devotion to duty, and a capacity beyond their years? jack did not quail before the responsibility his uncle had all unwittingly thrown upon him, even though he knew that his victory over the belgian might enormously increase his difficulties. already he had wondered why elbel had not put his settlement in a state of siege. the only conclusion he could come to was that the man was little more than a blusterer, without enough imagination to conceive the right means to adopt, or destitute of sufficient organizing power to put them in force. it would have been a comparatively simple matter, seeing his overwhelming strength in point of numbers, to prevent jack from securing his needful supply of water from the stream; but day by day elbel had allowed the women with their calabashes to go and come unmolested. surely, jack thought, he would now at any rate take that most obvious step towards the reduction of his enemy. and as he sat in his hut that evening, his head racked with pain from long thinking, he felt sick at heart as he realized how the fate of these poor people who had sought his aid seemed to depend on him alone. just as darkness had fallen, the chief imbono came into the camp. elbel had forbidden any one to leave the village, but the chief had bribed the sentry and been allowed to pass. he came to report that his young men had just returned from their rubber hunt after a week's absence in the forest, and learning of what had taken place, were bent on exacting vengeance for the insults and injuries inflicted on their people by the forest guards and by elbel himself. with his defeat the belgian's prestige had utterly gone, and to the ignorant negroes the opportunity seemed favourable for revenge. but imbono, more far-seeing than they, had come to ask advice. he had great difficulty in holding his men in. should he let them loose, to work their will upon their oppressors? jack earnestly advised the chief to do his utmost to restrain them. "believe me, my brother," he said, "if they do as you say they wish to do, it will almost certainly bring ruin upon you. elobela will be only too glad to have an excuse for visiting upon you the rancour caused by his reverse. true, he failed to force my camp; but he is still stronger in arms and men than i. i could do nothing to help you; for if i once move out of the shelter of my stockade, i shall be at elobela's mercy. in the open it is only rifles that count." "i will do as you say, o lokolobolo. but it is hard for me, for since the coming of elobela my people do not obey me as they used to do. if i say, do this, elobela forbids it; if i say, refrain from this, elobela bids them do it. it is hard for them to serve two masters. but i will tell them what my brother says; i can do no more." "you have another white man with you now, besides elobela?" "it is true, and he was struck by one of the balls from your guns, and is now lying sick in my hut: they have turned me out, and elobela has said that i am no more to provide food for you, my brother, either from ilola or from my other villages. but one of my young men told me that the party you sent out have obtained a supply, and wait in the forest until you bid them bring it in." jack thanked the chief, who returned to his village. the news he brought was not of a kind to lessen jack's anxiety. what he had expected had at last happened. he had little doubt that the commandeering of food would soon be followed by the stoppage of his water supply. without access to water the camp was doomed. it was possible that if he made common cause with imbono their united forces might overcome elbel's forest guards; but the attempt could be made only at a terrible risk, and if it failed the whole population of the two settlements must be annihilated. jack saw now that the presence of his camp so near ilola was a source of danger to it. this could not have been foreseen; but how much better it would have been, he thought, if he had chosen a different site. at another spot, remote from the village, with a more defensible position, and near a good water supply, the present weaknesses would not have existed, and at all events imbono might not have been involved in the consequences of the quarrel with elbel. but it was too late to think of that. certainly no move could be made while elbel was close by with a considerable force. if elbel took advantage of his superiority to hold the camp closely invested, there would never be any possibility of moving at all. deprived of water, jack must soon choose between the alternatives--to surrender, or to make a sally at the head of his men and put all to the hazard of an open fight. two days passed. jack kept a close watch on ilola through his field-glass; all seemed quiet there, and of elbel himself he saw nothing. what was his amazement, when at daybreak he took his stand on the platform overlooking ilola, to see elbel marching out at the head of the greater part of his force, and making for the river bank. he waited an hour, and when they did not return, and the patrols had not appeared, he sent out a couple of men by a roundabout way to follow the movements of the force, and allowed the usual water carriers to go out with their calabashes. these, returning soon with water, reported a strange thing. from the women of ilola whom they had met on a like errand at the river, they had learnt that elobela had set off with his men in their smoke-boat, and that boloko had been left in charge of the village with about as many men as he had brought at first. several hours later jack's scouts came back, and said that they had followed along the bank the course of elobela's launch; he was going rapidly down the river. they could only suppose that he was making for the headquarters of his company some hundreds of miles away. "what did i say at all at all?" remarked barney when jack told him the great news. "he's no gentleman, that's as plain as the nose on his face, sorr. a man who will take two lickings and thin run away is not fit to wipe your shoes on." "you seem disappointed, barney, but frankly i'm very glad. i could fling up my hat and cheer if i hadn't to keep up my dignity before these natives. though i fear we haven't seen the last of mr. elbel by any means. we shall have him upon us sooner or later with an overwhelming force. but sufficient unto the day; my uncle should be back long before that, if elbel doesn't meet and stop him on the road. well, we now have a chance to move our camp, for if elbel is on his way to headquarters he can't get back for weeks. and first of all, barney, take a dozen men and bring in that food that's waiting in the forest. we shan't be able to move for a day or two, at any rate; we must choose our site more carefully this time." thinking over the matter, jack was not long in coming to the decision that the best place to establish his new camp would be near the cataract. from his recollection of the ground above it he thought it was admirably situated from a strategical point of view. it would have the incidental advantage of protecting mr. martindale's claim. the one disadvantage was its distance from the sources of food supply. but this caused jack to give serious consideration to a matter which had once or twice dimly suggested itself to him. he had been more and more impressed with the necessity of his party being self-supporting, so far as the staple articles of food were concerned, if they were to make a long stay in this country. he remembered how stanley during his search for emin pasha had been able to sow, grow, and reap crops at fort bodo in a remarkably short time. why should not he do the same? when he was joined by mr. martindale's contingent a large quantity of food would be needed. no doubt they would bring stores with them; but these could not last very long, especially in view of the unexpected drain upon the resources of the expedition caused by the arrival of the fugitives from banonga and elsewhere. "i wonder what uncle will say when he sees them," jack remarked to barney, when he opened up to him this question of food supply. "you remember at banonga he said he wasn't going to start a boys' home; this is still more serious--a sort of convalescent home for non-paying patients." "'tis meself that isn't wan little bit afraid uv what the master will say. sure don't i know to a letther what 'twill be! 'my gracious me!'--don't ye hear him, sorr?--'what in the world will i want wid all these disgraceful lookin' objects? this ain't business. i'm not a philanthrophy, an' i don't exactly see my way to run a croosade.' an' thin he'll say, 'poor fellow!' an' 'poor wumman!' an' 'poor little chap!' an' he'll dive his hands into his pockets an' suddenly remimber himself that money is no manner uv good in this counthry, an' he'll say: 'we must kind uv fix up some sort uv something for 'em, barney.' didn't i know 'm by heart the first day i drove him in london, and he went up to the horse and opened his jaw an' looked in his eyes an' says 'he'll do.' sure i'd niver have named me little darlint uv a pat to 'm if i hadn't known the kind uv gintleman he was at all." jack smiled at barney's way of putting it, but admitted the truth of the portrait. mr. martindale was indeed a capable man of affairs--an example of the best type of the american man of business, the embodiment of the qualities by which the extraordinary commercial prosperity of the united states has been built up. but jack knew that he was more than a man of business. his was a big heart, and it was one of the minor vexations of his life that he had to take some trouble to conceal it. jack's final conclusion was that there was not only every prospect of an extended stay if this mining scheme was to be followed up, but that the number of persons to be provided for would be more considerable than it was possible at present to calculate. obviously, then, it behoved him to employ the time before mr. martindale's arrival in preparing for contingencies. elbel's departure had immediate consequences in ilola. his presence had in some measure curbed the worse propensities of his black followers: they could only be brutal in obedience to orders; but the moment he was gone they began to show themselves once more in their true light. before a day had passed imbono came into the camp to complain of the insolence and rapacity of boloko and his men. jack advised him to do nothing to give boloko any excuse for violence, but he had still to plumb the depths of savagery and brutality in the men whom the free state government callously allowed the trading companies to employ in the exploitation of rubber. he had still to learn that where violence was intended, not even the shadow of an excuse was any longer considered necessary. one morning imbono came to him in a frenzy of rage and indignation. his third wife had been tending her cooking pot when boloko came up and asked what food she was preparing. "a fowl," she replied civilly. "give it me," he demanded. "it is not yet cooked, o boloko," the poor woman answered. "you refuse me, ngondisi?" cried the ruffian. "lift your hands and open your eyes wide that i may see the white of them, or i will shoot you." ngondisi in terror obeyed. "you do not open them wide enough," said the wretch with a laugh, and he lifted the gun and fired; and the woman fell upon her face; she would never open her eyes again. but boloko had in this case reckoned without the spirit of confidence engendered in the natives by the discomfiture of elbel. he had only ten men in the village when the incident occurred; the rest were absent, levying toll on imbono's other villages a few miles distant. even while imbono, with tears of anguish, was telling jack what had been done, the spark had been applied to the tinder. an extraordinary commotion was heard in the direction of ilola: shots, yells, the war cry of infuriate men. rushing out with imbono, jack arrived in the village to find that retaliation had at last been wreaked for months of wrong. it was difficult at first to make out what had happened. it appeared that in imbono's absence the men of the village had suddenly seized their arms, and flung themselves in one desperate rush upon boloko and his men. what cared they if several of their number fell before the tyrants' rifles? heedless of wounds they closed about the forest guards; there was a brief hand-to-hand fight, eight of boloko's men had fallen to weapons wielded with the energy of despair, and of the party only boloko himself and two men had made their escape into the forest. elate with their victory, the men of ilola had hastened off to the other villages, to surprise the guards there. it was too late now to recall them, but jack had arrived on the spot just in time to rescue one man, whom the villagers were on the point of massacring. the white sous-officier who had been wounded in the fight before jack's camp had been placed in imbono's hut. roused by the sound of firing, he had dragged himself from his mattress and, rifle in hand, came to the entrance of the hut just as jack entered the gate with the chief. the villagers had forgotten him; but when they saw in their power a white man, one of those to whom all their afflictions were due, a band of them sprang towards him with uplifted spears. he fired: one of the men fell. the rest paused for an instant, and were on the point of dashing forward to make an end of their enemy when jack rushed between them and their prey, and cried to them in imbono's name to stay their hands. reluctantly, with lowering countenances, they obeyed the command of their chief's white brother. no mercy had been shown to them: why should they show mercy? but when imbono reminded them that the slaying of a white man would bring upon them the hordes of bula matadi, and that elobela had already gone down the river, probably to bring many soldiers back with him, they sullenly drew off, and allowed jack to remove the man to the safety of his own camp. the belgian knew no english, but jack had a fair working knowledge of french which he found was equal to the occasion. the man explained that he was an ex-noncommissioned officer of the state forces, whose services had been enlisted by elbel in dealing with the refractory natives. he seemed quite unable to understand jack's point of view. to him the natives were so many parasites, the goods and chattels of the state, with no property and no rights. "why, monsieur," he said, "we pay them for the work they do; we have a right to demand labour of them for nothing. see what we have done for their country! look at the rubber stations on the river, the fine buildings, the telegraphs, the cataract railway; where would all these blessings of civilization have been but for the noble self-sacrifice of king leopold?" jack gave up the attempt to argue with him that the country belonged primarily to its natural inhabitants, forbore to point out that king leopold had expressly declared that he had the advancement of the natives at heart. he contented himself with insisting that the actions of which elbel and his minions had been guilty in ilola were contrary to the law of the free state itself. he was much struck by the belgian's answer. "ah, monsieur, we have no book of rules, no code of laws. what can we do? we are the only law. yes, monsieur, we are the only god in the maranga." next day jack went with imbono and lepoko to the waterfall, to survey the place as a possible site for a camp, or, to speak more strictly, a settlement. the chief was troubled and displeased at the prospect of the removal of his blood brother's camp, but made no urgent remonstrance. on arriving at the spot, jack at once detected signs that some one had recently been making investigations there. he had no doubt that this was elbel. the secret of the gold had probably been disclosed in an incautious moment to one of his escort by the men who had accompanied mr. martindale on his second visit. elbel already knew enough of the american's business to make him keenly interested, and alert to follow up the slightest clue. knowing what he now knew of the methods of the state officials, jack was ready to believe that elbel would strain every nerve to get mr. martindale hounded out of the country, in order to have an opportunity of turning the discovery of gold to his own profit. could his sudden departure from the village, jack wondered, have been his first move in this direction? carefully examining the ground above the waterfall, jack saw that a good deal would have to be done to make it suitable for a settlement. he heard from imbono that during several months of the year the stream was much broader than at present, and at the point where it debouched from the hill, three or four miles below, it and other streams overflowed their banks, forming a wide swamp, almost a lake, some ten miles from east to west and more than half a mile broad. this, during the rainy season, practically cut off all communication from the direction of the village. on the far side of the hill the bluffs were so precipitous as to make access very difficult. this isolated hill formed therefore a kind of huge castle, of which the swamp for half the year was the natural moat. it seemed to jack that the most convenient site for his new camp was the slope of the hill immediately above the cataract. the incline here was very slight; the hill face only became steep again about a quarter of a mile from the fall; there it rose abruptly for fully fifty or sixty yards, sloping gently for the next half mile. jack saw that if he built his entrenched camp in the neighbourhood of the waterfall, it would be to a slight extent commanded by an enemy posted on the steep ascent above. but by raising his defences somewhat higher on that side he hoped to overcome this disadvantage. with a little labour, he thought, the soil around the cataract could be made suitable for planting food-stuffs. it was virgin soil, and owing to the slight fall of the ground at this spot, and to the fact that it was partially protected by the contour of the hill against floods from above, the leaves that for ages past had fallen from the thick copses fringing the banks, and from the luxuriant undergrowth on the small plateau itself, had not been washed down. these deposits had greatly enriched the alluvium, and imbono said that large crops of manioc, maize, groundnuts, and sweet potatoes could easily be grown, as well as plantains and bananas and sugar cane. on returning to his camp by ilola, jack told barney the results of his investigation, and announced that he had definitely made up his mind to settle on the new site. "very good, sorr," said barney; "but what'll become uv ilola? beggin' your pardon, sorr, 'twas a very solemn affair, that ceremony uv brotherhood, an' though sure it had niver a blessing from a priest--an' like enough father mahone would think it a poor haythen sort uv business--still, to the poor niggers, sorr, it may be just as great a thing as if the priest had blessed it in the name uv almighty god." "well, what are you driving at, barney?" "why this, sorr. the chief and you made a bargain to help wan another; an' sure ye've kept it, both uv you. well, if we go away, there's no more help for either uv you, an' 'tis imbono will be most in need uv it." "you mean that i'm deserting my ally, eh?" "bedad, sorr, isn't it me that knows ye'd niver do it? but i just speak for the look uv the thing, sorr. sure niver a man knows betther than barney o'dowd that things are not always what they seem." "to tell you the truth, barney, i've been thinking it over on the way back. i could see that imbono doesn't like the idea of our moving, though he was too polite to mention it----" "'tis a rale irish gintleman he is, sorr," interrupted barney. "there's no doubt that elbel, or boloko, or both, will come back sooner or later. leaving me out of the question, the slaughter of boloko's party won't go unpunished. to overlook that would ruin the authority of the forest guards for hundreds of miles round. well, what does it mean when they return? they'll make a terrible example of ilola. imbono and his people will be wiped out. and you're quite right in believing that i couldn't stand by and see that done. but you see what it involves. we must plan our camp so as to be able to take in the whole of imbono's people from the three villages--i suppose about four hundred in all, children included. that's a large order, barney." "true it is, sorr. but you wouldn't keep out the childher, poor little souls; an' mighty proud uv pat they are, too. besides, sorr, they'll all help, ivery soul, to build the camp; many hands make light work; an' ye couldn't expect 'em to set up a lot uv huts for us barring they saw a chance uv bein' invited now and again, at least as payin' guests, sorr." "well, barney, i'd made up my mind to it all along, but i thought i'd like to sound you first. so all we've got to do now is to relieve imbono's suspense and set to work. we'll start with clearing the soil for crops. it will take some time to plan the new camp, and we've always this one to retreat to. take lepoko over to ilola and make the announcement yourself, barney." "i will, sorr, wid the greatest pleasure in life. 'deed, 'twas meself that took the news to biddy o'flaherty whin her pig had won the prize at ballymahone show, and was just coming away wid a penny in me pocket when i met mike henchie. 'an' what would ye be afther, mike?' says i. 'carryin' the news to biddy o'flaherty, to be sure,' says he. 'arrah thin, 'tis too late ye are,' says i. 'isn't it meself that's just got a penny for that same news?' 'bedad,' says he, 'what will have come to biddy at all?' 'what is it ye'd be maning?' says i; 'sure she didn't give me a penny,' says mike, 'last year whin i brought her the news. she gave me a screech and went black in the face, an' sure 'twas for the same fun i'm here this blessed minute?' 'husht!' says i. 'biddy didn't win the prize last year at all. 'twas patsy m'manus.' 'an' who is it this time but that same patsy?' says mike. 'but i heard the judge wid me very own ears give it to biddy!' says i. 'deed so,' says he; 'but some wan renumbered him that patsy had won it two years on end. "me old friend patsy!" says he. "sure i couldn't break her heart by spoilin' the third time. i'll give it to patsy," says he.' an' patsy hadn't shown a pig at all that year, sorr." chapter xvi the house by the water with characteristic energy, jack next day set about the work in earnest. he posted sentinels several miles down the river and on the only forest paths by which a force was likely to approach, to give him timely notice if the enemy appeared. then, with as many men as he could muster, and a great number of women, he hastened to the waterfall, and began the work of clearing the ground. he had decided to start from the site of the proposed settlement and work outwards, so that the crops would be as much as possible under the protection of the camp: it would never do to raise a harvest for the enemy to reap. he placed mboyo, samba's father, in command of all his own people who had turned up, and of such people from other tribes as now came dropping in daily, the news of the white men who helped the negroes and feared not bula matadi having by this time spread abroad in the land. every new contingent of fugitives brought a fresh tale of outrage, causing jack to persevere under the discouragements with which he met, and to vow that he would do all in his power to protect the poor people who looked to him for succour. what the ultimate result of his action would be he did not stay to consider. it was enough for him that a work of urgent need lay ready to his hand. he did not blink the fact that he and his followers were now in reality in revolt against the constituted authorities of the free state. elbel, it was true, was only a servant of a concessionnaire company, vested with certain trading and taxing privileges; but government as understood in the free state was conducted by the delegation of powers from the central authority to private or corporate trading concerns. how far the powers of such a man as elbel really extended in point of law jack did not know. but he had been driven into his present position by a series of events in the face of which he could not find that any other course of action than the one he had adopted was open to him. and while he recognized fully the essential weakness of his position, however well fortified he might regard himself on grounds of humanity, he faced boldly what seemed the likeliest immediate consequence of his actions--the return of elbel in force. meanwhile he was beginning to be a little concerned at not hearing from mr. martindale. it was many weeks since his last note had arrived. jack was not yet seriously anxious about his uncle's non-appearance in person, for he could easily conceive that delays might occur in the prosecution of his business in strange places and among strange people, and when he reflected he came to the conclusion that mr. martindale might naturally hesitate to send many messengers. they were very expensive, having to come so many hundreds of miles, and moreover there was always a chance that a letter might miscarry. the congo was not too safe a highway; the free state methods had not been such as to instil a respect for "law" among the victims of its rule. jack knew full well that if a messenger from his uncle fell into elbel's hands, he would not be allowed to proceed. it was possible that mr. martindale's purchase of rifles, and their destination, had been discovered; and the idea that he might be involved in some trouble with the courts made jack feel uneasy at times. but he was so extremely busy that he had little leisure for speculation of any kind. the work of clearing the ground proceeded with wonderful rapidity. "they talk about the negro being lazy," he remarked one day to barney; "he doesn't look like it now." "ah, sorr, they say the same about my counthrymen. perhaps the truth is the same in ireland as 'tis here. for why are the niggers here not lazy, sorr? just because you'd explained to them what the work's for, and they know they'll get the good uv it. there may be scuts uv spalpeens that won't work at any time for anything or anybody at all. 'tis they i'd use that chicotte on, sorr; but i don't see any here, to be sure." when enough ground had been cleared and sowed to furnish a considerable crop, jack turned the whole of his available force on to the work of building the entrenched camp. imbona had welcomed with gratitude and enthusiasm the suggestion that the new settlement should be made large enough to contain the whole population of his villages in case of need; and his men having discontinued their unprofitable search for rubber when the forest guards disappeared, he could employ them almost all in the work. for jack did not recognize the prescriptive right of the men to leave all the field work, when the clearing had been done, to the women, as is the invariable negro custom. whether in the fields or on the new defences, he insisted on all taking a share. the greatest difficulty he encountered in the construction of his new camp was the want of materials. the country in the immediate vicinity of the waterfall was only sparsely wooded, and too much time and labour would be consumed in hauling logs from the forest below. but he found a large copse bordering the stream, higher up, and here he felled the trees, floating the logs down to the side of his settlement, not without difficulty, owing to the narrow tortuous bed. these, however, proved quite insufficient for the construction of a thick and impenetrable stockade round the whole circuit of the chosen site. jack therefore determined to use the boulders that lay in the course of the stream, thus unawares making his camp a cross between an afghan stone sangar and a log fort, such as were built by the pioneers and fur-traders of the american west. the labour of transporting the heavy boulders to the site of the settlement was very great; but the heart of the labourers being, as barney had said, in their work, they toiled ungrudgingly, and, with the ingenuity that the negro often unexpectedly displays, they proved very fertile in simple labour-saving devices. the fort was built on the left bank of the stream just above the cataract, so that the steep cliffs formed an effective defence to its southern side. before falling over the precipice, the stream ran through a gully some twelve feet deep. the western side of the fort rested on the gully, and was thus with difficulty accessible in this quarter. only on the north and east was it necessary to provide strong defensive works. these faces were each about a hundred yards long. at the western extremity of the northern face, where it rested on the stream, jack placed a solid blockhouse of logs. he constructed a similar blockhouse at the eastern extremity of this face, and a third at the south-east corner where the stone wall abutted on the precipice. all three blockhouses were constructed as bastions, so as to enfilade the northern and eastern faces. when the outer defences were thus completed, the negroes were set to work to build the necessary habitations within. hundreds of tall stems, thousands of climbers, vines, and creepers, piles of palm and phrynia leaves, were collected, and in an amazingly short time the space so lately bare was covered with neat huts built in native fashion for the negroes, with three more substantial dwellings, somewhat apart from the rest, for mr. martindale, jack, and barney. a wide open space was left in the middle. at one point a great heap of boulders was collected for repairing the wall if necessary; and jack placed his ammunition securely in an underground magazine. in two months from the departure of elbel jack was able to transfer his stores to the new settlement. the crops in the cultivated area were already far advanced. jack was amazed to see how quickly in this teeming soil the bare brown face of the earth became covered with the tender shoots of green, and how rapid was the progress to full maturity. clearly the new village, to which the natives had given the name ilombekabasi, "the house by the water," would be in no straits for its food supply. it was barney who suggested a doubt about the water. jack found him as a rule a good commentator, but a poor originator; he could very prettily embroider an idea, but very rarely had an idea of his own. but on this occasion he had a flash of insight. "by the powers, sorr," he said one morning, as jack and he were walking along the stream, "i do remimber just this very minute two lines uv poethry, out uv a poethry book i was made to learn whin i was a bhoy an' they talked uv sendin' me in for 'zamination by the intermaydiate board. it never come to anything, to be sure, because by the time i was old enough to sit for the 'zamination i was too old, sorr." "well, what are the lines?" '"water, water iverywhere, an' not a dhrop to dhrink.'" 'twas about some poor sailor man that shot a bird at sea, an 'twas a holy bird, an' whin 'twas dead the wind did not blow, an' the sailors dropped down dead, an' ghosts came aboard, an' the sky was like a hot copper, an' this poor divil uv a fellow was alone, all, all alone, as the book said, wid the dead bird slung round his neck, an' his lips parched, an' water all about, but as salt as a herring, so that he couldn't drink it; bedad, sorr, i remimber how mighty bad i felt meself whin my ould tacher--rest his sowl!--read out those lines in a sort uv whisper, an' me lips went as dhry as an old boot, sorr." the idea, you perceive, was by this time pretty well smothered under its embroidery. "you mean that the enemy might try to divert the stream if they attacked our camp?" "'tis the very marrow uv it, sorr, an' mighty aisy it would be. sure there are plenty uv boulders left, an' they could make a dam that would turn this stream at the narrow part above, an' niver a blessed dhrop uv dhrink should we get." "you're right, barney. we must be prepared for anything. let us go and look round." strolling up stream, they came, within a short distance of the spot where inspiration had flashed upon barney, to a small spring bubbling up near the river bank. "here's water, barney," said jack. "it rather suggests that we'd find water inside the camp if we sank a well." "true, sorr; but i'm thinking that would need a terrible deal uv diggin'." "still it may have to be done. we can't use this spring; it's a hundred yards at least away from the stockade--too far to come, under fire from albini rifles." "and we couldn't make it run into the camp, sorr, more's the pity." "stop a bit. i don't know that we couldn't. we might make a conduit." "what might that be, sorr?" "a pipe. it would have to be underground." "and if we got a pipe, an' could lay it, the marks uv the diggin' would bethray us. don't the streets uv london prove it whin the county council has been taking up the drains?" "unless we could cover them in some way. that might be managed. a greater difficulty is the natives. they've worked very well, but we don't know yet how far they can be trusted; and if they knew of this water-pipe we propose, they might blab the secret and undo all our work." "and where's the pipe, sorr? there are no gas pipes or drain pipes in this haythen counthry." "no, but there are plenty of bamboos. we could make an excellent pipe of them. the digging is the difficulty. we can't get the natives to do it without giving our plan away, and we can't do it ourselves for the same reason. i shall have to think this out, barney." "sleep on it, sorr. begorra, i remimber two more lines from that same poetry book- 'sleep, sleep, it is a blessed thing beloved from pole to pole'; an' no wonder at all, for many a time i've gone to me bed bothered about wan thing or another, and bedad, the morn's morn 'twas all as clear as the blessed daylight, sorr." "well, i'll sleep on it, barney, and let you know to-morrow what the result is." it was close thought, however, before he fell asleep that gave jack the solution of the problem. all the natives now knew that the object of the white man's presence here was to search for gold; they knew also that to obtain the gold the soil had to be excavated. why not turn their knowledge to good account? instead of laying his conduit in a direct line from the spring to the nearest point of the stockade, he would lay it along, or rather in, the side of the gully; it would thus be more likely to escape observation, and the disturbed ground could be planted with quick-growing creepers or covered up with boulders. as a blind to the natives, he would have a number of excavations made at the edge of the gully, both above and below the waterfall, and one of these could be used for the bamboo pipe without anybody being the wiser save the few who must necessarily be in the secret. next morning, accordingly, jack, under pretence of continuing the search for gold, set the men to make a series of shallow excavations. most of these were cut below the cataract, and, using the prospector's pan, jack obtained what he hoped his uncle would consider good results from the soil. he carefully noted the places along the exposed bed of the stream in which the best returns were found. but the excavations were abandoned one by one, and attention was not unduly directed to any of them. one of the excavations above the waterfall was the channel for the conduit. jack carried it from within a few yards of the spring to a spot near the north-west blockhouse, overlooking the gully. at one time it seemed that his plan would be wrecked, literally upon a rock, for a huge mass of stone of almost granite hardness was met with a little less than half-way from the spring. but jack was relieved to find soft earth beneath it, and the obstacle was turned by sinking the conduit at this place some feet below the usual level. at a short distance from the blockhouse, within the stockade, jack set the men to excavate a large tank, with a surface outlet over the cataract; and from the bottom of the tank he drove a tunnel, just large enough to accommodate a bamboo pipe, to the nearest point of the gully. the tank was an object of great curiosity to the natives, both those who had dug it and those who looked on. the children amused themselves by jumping in and out until the bottom became so deep as to make that sport dangerous; their elders congregated at the edge, chattering among themselves, some suggesting that it was intended as a storehouse for grain, others, as a grave in which to bury elobela and his men when they were killed in the fight that all expected. meanwhile jack had taken two of the natives into his confidence. they were mboyo and samba. the former was silent by nature and habit. samba would have torn out his tongue rather than divulge any secret of his master's. jack entrusted to them the construction of the conduit. he knew enough of their language by this time to be able to explain what he wanted without lepoko's assistance, and they quickly seized his idea. working by themselves in a bamboo plantation at ilola, they selected stalks of slightly different thickness which would fit into one another; and jack found that by carefully packing the joints with earth from the peaty swamp, he could make a pipe of the required length practically free from leakage. it remained to lay the conduit in position. this task he reserved for himself and barney, with the assistance of mboyo and samba. to avoid observation by the people, it was necessary to do the work at night. accordingly one day jack gave orders that no one was to leave the camp without permission after the evening meal was eaten. immediately after sunset the four quickly issued from the gate in the northern wall of the fort, one at a time so as not to attract attention. mboyo and samba brought the sections of the pipe from the place where they had concealed them, and under jack's direction they laid them along the gully, covering up each length of bamboo as it was placed. the trench having been already prepared, the actual labour involved was not great, the only difficulty being to remove as far as possible the traces of their operations. but it took time, and was impeded by the darkness, so that on the first night, after several hours of work, only the pipe had been laid, no connexion having yet been made with the tank or the spring. the work was continued under similar conditions on the following night. a connexion having been made with the tank, it only remained to tap the spring. a hole, some three feet deep, was dug where the water bubbled up, and formed into a fairly water-tight chamber by lining it with stone chipped from the boulders. into this one end of the conduit was carried. then the hole was filled in, and covered with two heavy pieces of rock, placed in as natural and unstudied a position as possible. while this was being done by mboyo and samba, jack and barney dibbled the roots of sweet potato creepers into the soil along the whole length of the conduit, knowing that they would grow so rapidly that in a few weeks every trace of their work would be hidden by the foliage; moreover the plant would serve a double purpose. the spring was a small one; nevertheless, by the time the night's task was completed, and the party returned to the camp, there were already two or three inches of water in the tank, and it was steadily rising. barney was even more delighted than jack. "'tis wonderful what a power uv good poethry can do in the world, sorr," he said. "an' sure the commissionaires uv education in the ould counthry would be proud men the day did they know that barney o'dowd, though he didn't pass his 'zamination, has made a mighty fine use uv the little poethry book." great was the surprise of the natives when they awoke next morning to see the mysterious tank full of water, and a tiny overflow trickling from it over the cataract. they discussed it for the whole of the day, inventing every explanation but the right one. the original spring had been so near the river and so inconspicuous that its disappearance was not noticed. jack felt a glow of satisfaction as he looked round on his work. here was an orderly settlement, on an excellent natural site, defended by a stockade and wall impregnable save to artillery, with fresh clean huts, well-cultivated fields, and an inexhaustible water supply. it had involved much thought and care and toil; how amply they had been rewarded! his men were now all transferred from their old settlement to the new one. imbono's people still remained in their villages, not without reluctance. they knew that the gate of ilombekabasi would always be open to them if danger threatened; but they felt the attractions of the place, and wished to migrate at once. and they were particularly jealous of the refugees. these people were strangers; why should they have better habitations and stronger defences than they themselves? why were they permitted to remain in imbono's country at all? jack had much ado to keep the peace between the two parties. quarrels were frequent, and that they did not develop into open strife was a tribute to jack's diplomacy, and to the strange influence which samba had acquired. the winning qualities which had captivated mr. martindale seemed to have a magical effect upon the people. the boy had always been a special pet among his own folks; his merry nature won the affection of imbono's subjects also. jack kept an observant eye upon him, and more than once saw him quietly approach a group where bickering and recrimination were going on, and by some grace of address, or some droll antic played with his inseparable companion pat, turn frowns to smiles, and suspicion to good fellowship. among the inhabitants of ilombekabasi was the belgian sergeant rescued from the villagers in ilola. he gave his parole not to attempt to escape, and indeed endured captivity patiently, for he knew not how far away his friends might be, and to wander alone in this forest country meant death. jack sometimes talked with him, taking the opportunity of airing his french, and finding some little interest in sounding the man's views. at first the belgian would not admit that the natives had any rights, or that there was anything particularly obnoxious in the system of administration. but he changed his mind one day when jack put to him a personal question. "how would you, a belgian, like it if some strange sovereign--the german emperor, say--came down upon you and compelled you to go into your woods and collect beech-nuts for him, paying you at the rate of a sou a day, or not at all, and thrashing or maiming or killing you if you did not collect enough?" the question was unanswerable, and from that time the belgian became a meditative man. the refugees were gradually increasing in number. by the time the camp was finished mboyo's command had grown to sixty men, with nearly as many women and twice as many children. all brought stories of the barbarous deeds of the rubber collectors; many bore in maimed limbs or scarred backs the personal evidences of the oppressors' cruelty. jack was moved almost to tears one day. a fine-looking negro came into the camp carrying something wrapped in palm leaves, and asked to be taken to lokolobolo. when brought before jack he removed the wrappings, and, unutterable woe depicted on his face, displayed a tiny black hand and foot. his village had been raided, he said, and with his wife and children and a few others he had fled to the forest, where they lived on roots and leaves and nuts. the forest guards tracked them out. one day, when he was absent fishing, a brutal sentry came upon his wife as she was collecting leaves for the evening meal. he learnt from one of his friends what happened. before the woman could escape the sentry shot her, and as she was only wounded, his "boys" chopped her with their knives till she died. others of his hangers-on took the children; and when the father returned to the place where he had left them, he found the dead body of his wife, and one hand and foot, all that remained of his little ones from the cannibal feast. it was incidents like these that stiffened jack's back. he had crossed his rubicon: the gate of ilombekabasi stood open to all who chose to come. and they came steadily. for a time many of them were too weak to be useful members of the little society. but as with good food and freedom from care their strength increased, they began to be self-supporting, mboyo employed them in attending to the crops and bringing new ground under cultivation. several were artificers, and were useful in doing smith's or carpenter's work. in addition to keeping the villagers employed, jack set apart a portion of every day for military exercises. every able-bodied man was armed; those for whom there were no rifles carried the native spears. when boloko fled from ilola he left a number of albini rifles and a stock of ammunition behind. these jack appropriated, so that his corps of riflemen now numbered sixty. he used his cartridges very sparingly, for his stock was not large, and he saw no possibility of replenishing it. now and again he arranged for a sham fight. one party of men was told off to storm the stockade, an equal party to defend it. no firearms were used on these occasions; the weapons employed were wooden poles with wadded ends. such fights afforded excellent practice against a real attack, and not a little amusement and enjoyment to the natives, who entered into the spirit of them enthusiastically, and took the hard knocks and bruises with as much cheerfulness as schoolboys on a football field. these little operations were useful to jack also. by their means he discovered the weak spots in his defences, and was able to strengthen them accordingly. but he was now becoming seriously alarmed at mr. martindale's continued absence. eight weeks had passed since his last letter came to hand, nearly five months since his departure. what could have happened? jack could not think that his uncle had willingly left him so long to bear his heavy responsibility, and now that he had more leisure he could not prevent himself from imagining all kinds of mishaps and disasters. at last, when he was on the point of sending a special messenger down the river to make inquiries, a negro arrived at the settlement with a letter. he had come within a hundred and fifty miles of ilombekabasi as a paddler on a white man's canoe; the remainder of the distance he had covered on foot. jack opened the letter eagerly. it read:-my dear jack,-sorry to leave you so long. have been on my back with an attack of malaria; three weeks unconscious, they told me. no need to be anxious: i'm on the mend; soon be as fit as a riddle. pretty weak, of course; malaria isn't exactly slathers of fun. it will be a fortnight or three weeks before i can start; then must travel slowly. expect me somewhat over a month after you get this. i've been in a stew about you. hope you've had no trouble. can you stomach native food? didn't forget your birthday. got a present for you--quite a daisy. your affectionate uncle, john martindale. p.s.--got some hydraulic plant at boma: a bargain. chapter xvii a buffalo hunt "dear old uncle!" said jack as he handed the letter to barney. "'pon my soul, i'd forgotten my own birthday, and i haven't the ghost of a notion what the day of the month is; have you, barney?" "divil a bit, sorr." "though, of course, i could reckon it out by counting up the sundays. d'you know, barney, i almost wish i'd made these negroes knock off work one day a week." "sure it wouldn't have answered atall atall sorr. a day's idleness would mean a day's quarrelling. uv coorse 'tis a pity they're ignorant haythens, an' i wish we could have father mahone out for a month or two to tache the poor craturs; but until they can be tached in the proper way, betther let 'em alone, sorr." "perhaps you're right, barney. doesn't it seem to you odd that uncle says nothing about the rubber question? his first letter, you remember, was full of it." "master's a wise man, sorr. what he does not say says more than what he does. he wouldn't be sure, you see, that his letter would iver reach you. and bedad, if he'd had good things to say uv the state officers, wouldn't he have said 'em? he's found 'em out, sorr, 'tis my belief." "i shall be jolly glad to see him, dear old boy." "and so will i, sorr, an' to see some things fit for a christian to ate. master's stomach won't take niggers' food, an' mine wouldn't if i could help it." "but you're getting fat, man!" "sure that's the terrible pity uv it. wid dacent food i kept as lean as a rake, and i'd niver have believed that the only way to get fat was to ate pig's food; for that's what it is, sorr, this maniac and other stuff. i'll now be wanting to get thin again, sorr." the white men's stores had long since given out. for weeks they had had no sugar, no coffee, tea, or cocoa. jack as well as barney had to share the natives' food. jack did not mind the change, and he believed that barney's objection was more than half feigned, for the irishman ate with unfailing appetite. the native diet was indeed nutritious and not unappetising. it included fish from the streams, which they ate both fresh and smoked; bananas, pine-apples, plantains, indian corn, manioc, ground-nuts, and sweet potatoes. manioc was their most important food, and jack after a time began to like it, as made into _kwanga_. the root of the plant is pounded to a pulp, soaked for twenty-four hours in running water, and when it ferments, is worked up into a stiff dough. cut into slices and fried in ground-nut oil it is very palatable. jack also found the groundnuts delicious when roasted. a few goats kept in the settlement provided milk, and they had a regular supply of eggs from their fowls, so that jack at least considered himself very well off. the crops around the settlement ripened and were gathered: fine fields of indian corn, amazing quantities of manioc and ground-nuts, that ripen beneath the soil. yet jack began to wonder whether his plantations would meet the needs of the population. it was still growing. the renown of lokolobolo and ilombekabasi had evidently spread far and wide, for every week more refugees came in from villages far apart. besides the men of jack's original party, there were now nearly two hundred people in the settlement, and jack always had to remember that these might any day be increased by the four hundred from imbono's villages, if elbel returned to avenge boloko's expulsion, as he certainly would do. further, mr. martindale would no doubt bring back with him a certain number of trained workmen--carpenters, engine-men, and so forth; all these must be provided with house room and food. jack was glad that he had planned the settlement on generous lines, though as he looked around he asked himself somewhat anxiously whether it would suffice to accommodate all. and what would his uncle say to it? would he endorse what jack had done, and take upon himself the protection of these outcasts against their own lawfully constituted, however unlawfully administered, government? only time could decide that, and jack awaited with growing impatience his uncle's return. one morning a messenger came in from ilola to say that news had reached imbono of a herd of buffaloes which were feeding about five miles off in the open country to the west. hitherto jack had not had leisure to indulge his tastes for sport; but the knowledge that big game was now so near at hand prompted him to try his luck. leaving barney in charge of the settlement, he set off the same morning with imbono and mboyo, who had both become very fair marksmen, the former with an albini rifle that had been boloko's, the latter with a mauser presented to him by jack. samba and lepoko were in attendance, carrying lunch for the party. though jack had picked up a good deal of the language, he found it in some respects so extraordinarily difficult that he was always glad of lepoko as a stand-by. by the time they had reached the spot where the herd had first been sighted, it had moved some distance away; but it was easily tracked, and by dint of careful stalking up the wind the party got within three hundred yards without being discovered by the keen-scented beasts. then, however, the country became so open that to approach nearer unseen was impossible, and jack decided to take a shot at them without going farther. he had brought the heavy sporting rifle which had accounted for imbono's enemy the hippopotamus in the river. selecting the largest of the herd--they were the red buffaloes of the district, a good deal smaller than the kind he had seen in america--he fired and brought it down. the others broke away towards a clump of euphorbias, and jack got another shot as they disappeared; but neither this nor the small-bore bullets of the chiefs' rifles appeared to take effect, for in an instant, as it seemed, the whole remaining herd vanished from sight. jack slipped two more cartridges into his empty chamber, and, leaving the bush from behind which he had fired, ran towards his kill. it was his first buffalo, and only those who have known the delight of bagging their first big game could appreciate his elation and excitement. he outstripped the rest of his party. the two chiefs, chagrined at their failure to bring down the animals at which they had aimed, seemed to have lost all interest in the hunt. samba left them discussing with lepoko the relative merits of their rifles, and hurried on after his master. jack bent over the prostrate body. despite the tremor of excitement he had felt as he cocked his rifle he found that his aim had been true: the buffalo had been shot through the brain. at that moment--so strange are mental associations--he wished his school chum tom ingestre could have been there. tom was the keenest sportsman in the school; how he would envy jack when he saw the great horns and skull hanging as a trophy above the mantelpiece when he paid that promised visit to new york! but while recollections of "tiger tom," as the school had nicknamed him, were running through his mind, jack was suddenly startled by a bellow behind him and a couple of shots. springing erect, he faced round towards the sound, to see samba's dark body darting between himself and a second buffalo plunging towards him from the direction of the bushes. as happened once to stanley travelling between vivi and isangila, the suddenness of the onset for the moment paralysed his will; he was too young a sportsman to be ready for every emergency. but the most seasoned hunter could not have dared to fire, for samba's body at that instant almost hid the buffalo from view, coming as it did with lowered head. the animal was only ten yards away when samba crossed its track; but the boy's quick action broke its charge, and it stopped short, as though half inclined to turn in pursuit of samba, who had now passed to its left. then it again caught sight of jack and the dead buffalo, and with another wild bellow dashed forward. in these few instants, however, jack had recovered his self-possession, and raised his rifle to his shoulder. as the beast plunged forward it was met by a bullet which stretched it inert within a few feet of jack's earlier victim. "bonolu mongo!"[1] exclaimed jack, clapping samba on the shoulder. "but for your plucky dash i should have been knocked over and probably killed. you saw him coming, eh?" "njenaki!"[2] replied samba, with his beaming smile. meanwhile the two chiefs had run up with lepoko and were examining the second buffalo, with an air of haste and excitement. they began to talk at one another so loud and fiercely, and to gesticulate so violently, that jack, though he could not make out a word of what they were saying, saw that a pretty quarrel was working up. "now, lepoko," he said, putting himself between the chiefs and sitting on the buffalo's head, "what is all this about?" "me tell massa," said lepoko. "imbono he say he kill ngombo; mboyo say no, he kill ngombo; lepoko say massa kill ngombo; no can tell; me fink one, two, free hab kill ngombo all same." "well, my own opinion is pretty well fixed, but we'll see. why, there are three bullet marks in his hide besides mine. that's mine, you see, that large hole in the middle of the forehead. one of you two must have hit him twice. and i'm hanged if the bullets didn't go clean through him. no wonder he was in a rage. tell them what i say, lepoko." on hearing what jack had said, the chiefs began to jabber at each other again. "kwa te!" said jack. "what do they say now, lepoko?" "imbono say he make two holes, mboyo say no, he make two holes. lepoko fink bofe make two holes--how can do uvver way?" "two and one make three, my man, not four. i'll soon tell you who made the two." by comparing the wounds he found that two of them had been made by mauser bullets and one by an albini. "there's no doubt about it, mboyo hit him twice. but to put an end to your squabble let me tell you that you both might have fired at him all day and never killed him if you hit him in those parts. neither of you did him any damage, though you might have done for me, irritating him as you did. we'll settle the matter by saying he is samba's buffalo. it was samba who got in his way and gave me time to take good aim at him. and samba might have been killed himself. i am grateful to your son, mboyo, and proud of him, and when i get back i shall give him one of the rifles i have left, as a reward." this end to the controversy satisfied both the chiefs. neither grudged samba anything. as for the boy, he was more than delighted. he had never dreamt of handling a rifle until he was at least fifteen, when the negro boy is as old as the white boy of twenty; and to have one his very own made him enormously proud. "he say larn shoot one time, massa," said lepoko. "lepoko plenty mislable. what for? 'cos he shoot plenty well; but massa no tell him to bring gun. no; lepoko must lib for talk, talk, talk all time; me no happy all same." "you shall have your chance next time. now, samba, run off to the camp and bring some men to cut up the buffaloes. we will wait hereabouts until you come back." when samba had gone it occurred to jack that he would eat his luncheon at the summit of a small hill that rose steeply about half a mile from the spot where the buffaloes had been killed. the chiefs, disinclined like all africans for exertion that was avoidable and seemed to have no object, pointed out that their present situation was quite suited for having the meal, and they were quite hungry enough without climbing for an appetite. but jack persisted. he wished to ascertain whether there was a clear view from the hill, and though he might have ascended it alone, he feared lest in his absence the chiefs would again fall out over the buffalo. with an air of resignation the negroes accompanied him on the short walk, and luncheon was eaten on the hill-top. jack at least felt that he was well rewarded for his climb. a magnificent panorama was open to his view--a vast extent of forest-clad country, with here and there strips of open ground such as that below in which they had discovered the buffaloes. the forest stretched in an almost unbroken mass of foliage as far as the eye could reach, approaching on the north-east very close to imbono's village. after luncheon jack got up and walked about the hilltop, taking a nearer view of the country through his field-glass. here he caught a glimpse of the river, a small bluish patch amid the green; there, of a little spire of smoke rising perhaps from the fire of one of imbono's scouts. all at once he halted and stood for some moments gazing intently in one direction. far away, across a clearing only just visible through the trees, something was moving, continuously, in one direction. so great was the distance that the appearance was as of an army of ants. but he fancied he detected a patch or two of white amid the mass of black. "mboyo, look here!" he called. the chief went to his side, and, stretching his head forward, gazed fixedly at the moving mass. "soldiers!" he exclaimed suddenly. "black soldiers, and white chiefs! they are going to ilola." imbono sprang to his side. "it is true," he cried. "mboyo speaks the truth. they are going to ilola!" jack drew a deep breath. the long-expected was coming to pass. the enemy was at hand! and it was ominous that he was coming from the west by land instead of by river from the south. this must have involved a detour of many miles, through difficult forest country; but thus the enemy avoided the certainty of his approach being heralded in advance, as it would have been if he had come by the river. elbel was planning a surprise! there was no time to be lost in getting ready for his coming. "can they reach ilola to-day, coming through the forest?" jack asked imbono. it was just possible, replied the chief, but only by dint of very hard marching, and they could not arrive before nightfall. "we must get back," said jack. "come, my brothers." they descended the hill, and set off at full speed for ilombekabasi. on the way they met a party of men coming under samba's guidance to bring in the buffaloes. jack bade them hasten in their task; they were far from any probable line of march of the enemy, and the meat might now prove very valuable. hurrying on to his camp, jack told barney what he had seen. "we're in for it now, barney," he said. "and we're ready, sorr, praise be!" said barney. jack lost no time. at his request imbono sent out scouts to get more exact particulars of the column and its progress, warning them to use the utmost care to avoid discovery. imbono himself returned to ilola to prepare his people for a migration to ilombekabasi. later in the day the scouts returned with the news that the enemy had pitched their camp about ten miles away. the force consisted of some two hundred forest guards armed with rifles, and a much larger number of followers carrying spears. boloko was with them, and elobela, and two other white men. the line of march had been direct for ilola, and strict silence was kept. one of the scouts had seen elobela himself strike a man who had incautiously shouted to his comrades. "there's no doubt of their intentions, barney," said jack. "they want to surprise ilola. that means a massacre; but by god's mercy we know in time!" the inhabitants of ilola and of imbono's other villages were already flocking into the camp, bringing with them large supplies of food and their principal belongings. before the sun set the villages were deserted. jack was glad now to think that this contingency had been so long foreseen. it would have been impossible to make adequate arrangements for so large an additional population if he had waited until the danger was upon them. as it was, the huts stood ready. it was a strange and impressive scene as imbono's people filed in. they were excited, but not with alarm or fear. some of them even were merry, laughing at little mishaps--the dropping of a basket of manioc, the breaking of a pot, the sprawling of children as pat dashed in and out among them, barking as though it was he that was shepherding the throng. barney was the master of ceremonies. with samba's help he separated the various families, and showed each father the hut or huts he was to occupy. it was not a wealthy community, and only a few of the men had more wives than one; but these tried barney's patience sorely, and he sighed for father mahone to come and tache the haythens betther manners. "only what could he do, if he came?" he said. "whin a man has been fool enough to marry two or three wives, faith, i don't see how ye can alter it unless ye make 'em all widders." about two miles from the camp there was a spot above the river from which the clearing and village of ilola could be seen. an hour before dawn jack went out with samba to this spot and waited. just after day had broken they perceived a large body of men rushing out from the forest towards the village stockade. through his field-glasses jack saw that the negroes were led by two men in white. imbono, before he left, had had the gate of ilola closed and barricaded. the invaders did not pause to break it down; they swarmed up the stockade and momentarily hesitated at the top, as though suspecting, from the silence of the village, that a trap had been laid for them. then some of them could be seen dropping down inside; the rest instantly followed; and jack smiled as he saw them assemble in little groups in the deserted compound, gesticulating in their excitement. a few minutes later dense volumes of smoke rose from the village. the forest guards had fired the huts, no doubt in their first fury at the escape of the villagers. jack could not help thinking that they would regret their hasty action. if they intended any long stay in the neighbourhood, the village would have been more useful to them intact than as a ruin. he had dismantled his own former camp, so that unless elbel's men set about building for themselves they would have no shelter. their folly only confirmed jack's belief that they were but a poorly-disciplined rabble, and that elbel himself was out of his element in work of a military kind. having learnt all that he wished to know, jack returned to his camp. elbel had clearly not expected the village to be abandoned. jack wondered if he had learnt of the formation of the new camp. it seemed likely that news of it would long since have been carried down the river. he had apparently planned to wipe out the villagers first and tackle jack later. "bedad, sorr, if he's any sinse at all he will lave us alone," said barney when jack told him what he had seen. "i don't expect that. i'm sure he'll use his men against me. he'll want his revenge, for one thing; and then he has his eye on the gold, remember. he didn't dig about the cataract for nothing. he'll be glad of any excuse for attacking, if he sees a fair chance of beating us. you may depend upon it he knows all that uncle has been doing, and if he can manage to drive us out and occupy this ground before uncle gets back, it's all up with poor uncle's claim, barney. possession is more than nine points of the law in this state. if uncle had known the sort of things that go on here, he'd have thought twice before spending his money." very soon after jack regained his camp, imbono's scouts came in to report that the enemy was on the move. before midday the head of the column was sighted making its way up the stream, this forming on the whole an easier approach than the rough stony ground on either bank. there was immense excitement in the camp as the people watched the advancing crowd. jack could not but be touched as he observed the demeanour of the people. a few months before the sight of so many of the dreaded forest guards would have made them cower in abject fear; now, so great was their trust in the young inglesa who had twice defeated elobela, and who had prepared for them this fine new village with its wonderful defences, that they viewed the progress of the enemy with feelings only of anticipated triumph. "please god, i won't fail them," thought jack. about half a mile below the cataract the column came to a halt, and three men in white, attended by half a dozen armed negroes, advanced to within less than a quarter of a mile of the wall. "the impident scoundhrels!" quoth barney, standing at jack's side. "they do show a pretty cool trust in our forbearance," said jack; "we could pick them off easily enough." "begorra, i would, sorr; do they deserve any betther? elbel was a deceitful villain--you remimber, sorr, whin he fired under a flag uv truce at the ould camp. i wouldn't have any more mercy on him than i would on a rat." "yes, you would, barney. we must play the game, whatever they do. and i wonder what they're up to. here comes a man with a white flag. we shall soon see." [1] "brave boy." [2] "i saw." chapter xviii elbel's barrels the negro looked by no means comfortable as he clambered up the steep side of the gully from the bed of the stream and approached the fort. there was no gate in the western face, and the man seemed somewhat uncertain what to do. but perceiving that he had a note in his hand, jack ordered lepoko to lean over the wall and take the paper on the point of a spear. "now let's see what he has to say," said jack, unfolding the paper. "listen, barney. 'having returned with a force sufficient to re-establish law and order in this part of the congo state, i call upon you instantly to surrender the camp which you have constructed without permission on the territory of the state. the negroes who are with you are subjects of the state, and will be dealt with by me in accordance with the powers that i possess. you, being a foreigner, will be taken to boma, to be tried under due form of law by the state courts.'" "which means quick murder for the niggers, sorr, and slow murder for you. don't answer his impidence, sorr." "oh, i must answer. we can't let things go by default, and we can go one better than he, barney. he hasn't copied his letter, you see. it's very lucky i've got a duplicate book; who knows?--these documents may come in handy some day." he wrote a brief reply, saying that he was not aware there was anything illegal in constructing a suitable camp on ground leased from the société cosmopolite; that, on the other hand, the natives who had sought shelter with him complained of treatment which was clearly against all law and justice; and that in these circumstances he proposed to remain where he was. when this note reached elbel, he read it to the two white men with him, laughed, put it in his pocket-book, then returned with his party down the stream. "a pretty little farce!" said jack. "he knew what my answer would be; all he wanted was a chance of examining our defences." "sure he didn't get much for his trouble. he'd have to be a deal taller to see much uv us, sorr." during the rest of the day elbel was seen in the distance on various sides of the camp making further observations. from a point on the slope above he could overlook part of the enclosure, and what he observed from there through his field-glass evidently gave him food for thought, for before sunset he marched all his men down the stream, followed cautiously by imbono's scouts. these reported by and by that the enemy had encamped about two miles away. the white men had tents, the natives were cutting branches to form temporary shelters. foragers had been sent out in all directions. jack knew that they would do little good. there were no people to harry, all were within his walls, and the crops around the villages had been gathered in. but this dearth was not likely to affect the besiegers for the present; for the scouts reported that some of their canoes had now come up the river loaded with stores. jack concluded from the fact of elbel being in command that the administration of the congo state had not yet seen fit to intervene and equip an expedition under regular military officers. the société cosmopolite, in fact, an extremely wealthy corporation, had determined to root out this source of disaffection and revolt within its territory. the force commanded by elbel represented practically the whole military establishment of the company. he had no doubt received telegraphic authority from europe to undertake the expedition, and could rely on the ultimate support of the state government, which meanwhile would prefer the work to be done by the company's troops rather than magnify the affair by employing its own forces. it soon became clear to jack that the lesson of his previous reverse had not been lost on elbel. for a time, at least, there was to be no repetition of the rushing tactics that had proved so disastrous. two days passed, and he had made no move. scouts reported that he was busily engaged in building and fortifying his camp. the site chosen was a good deal nearer to ilombekabasi than the first night's bivouac. it lay in a hollow somewhat more than half a mile from the cataract--in the face of an equal or inferior enemy, a very dangerous position, commanded, as it was, on almost all sides by the heights around. but it was sheltered from rifle-fire from the fort, and had a good water supply from a brook that fell some distance below into the stream that flanked jack's settlement. elbel could afford to ignore its strategical weakness by reason of his greatly superior numbers. for jack could not occupy the rim of the hollow without drawing most of his men out of the fort, thus leaving it open to attack; and in any case, with only forty-five rifles, he could not do much to endanger a camp held by two hundred. [illustration: ilombekabasi and surrounding country, showing elbel's first camp in foreground] these reflections passed through his mind as he pondered on the information given by the scouts. his constant preoccupation during the past months with problems of attack and defence had given rise to a habit of looking at every move or incident in its military bearings. "i wonder whether the fellows in the army class would envy me or pity me most!" he thought. elbel attempted nothing in the way of fortification for his camp except a light stockade--with his superior numbers defensive work seemed almost a superfluity. by comparing the reports of various scouts--who, as usual with negroes, were somewhat erratic in their ideas of number--and by his own observation through his field-glass, jack concluded that elbel had, in addition to his two hundred rifles, about five hundred spearmen. jack himself had, in addition to his forty-five rifles, three hundred spearmen. the mere numbers were, of course, no real index to the proportionate strength of the two forces. in ordinary circumstances, indeed, the spearmen might almost be neglected; the striking power was to be measured in rifles alone. but jack hoped that, with the drill and discipline his men had undergone, it would be proved that a determined fellow behind a spear was still by no means a combatant to be held lightly. had not the arabs of the soudan shown this? he had no little confidence that, when the time of trial came, his three hundred spearmen would prove every whit as staunch as the dervishes who broke the british square at abu klea and threw away their lives by the thousand at omdurman. on the second morning after elbel's appearance jack found that pickets were posted all round the fort. clearly it was no longer safe to send out scouts, at all events by daylight. the danger was little diminished after dark, for fires were lit at various points and a regular patrol was established. "i don't care about sending out any of the men now," said jack to barney. "if one of our fellows was caught, his fate would be horrible. it's to prevent scouting, i suppose, that elbel has posted men round us." "might it not be to prevent reinforcements from reaching us, sorr?" "not likely. there are no people for scores of miles round, and the country indeed is mostly virgin forest. the only reinforcement likely to reach us is my uncle's contingent, and their arrival is sure to be advised all along the river for days or perhaps weeks in advance; and that's one of my worries, barney. i don't want uncle to fall into elbel's hands, but how can i stop it?" "send a couple of men off to meet him, sorr, and tell him of the danger." "i might do that, perhaps. but, as you see, they'd have to run the gauntlet of elbel's forest guards. elbel either wants to catch my uncle, or he has got some scheme of attack in preparation which he's anxious we shouldn't discover. whichever it is he means to keep us bottled up." jack was sitting at the door of his hut with barney, talking by the light of a small fire. samba had been hovering about for some time, waiting, as barney thought, until the time should come for him to curl himself up as usual at the entrance to the hut after his friend the irishman had entered. the conversation ceased for a moment, jack bending forward and drawing patterns on the ground with his stick. samba came up and began to speak. "begorra, massa," he said, "me can do." "what can you do, my boy?" asked jack, smiling a little at the exclamation samba had adopted from barney. samba struggled to find words in the white man's puzzling tongue. but, recognizing that his small stock of phrases was insufficient, he ran off and fetched lepoko. "me tell massa all same," said the interpreter, when samba had spoken to him. "samba boy say, sah, he lib for go out see fings for massa. he no 'fraid. he go in dark, creep, creep, no 'fraid nuffin nobody. he lib for see eberyfing massa want see, come back one time say all same fings he see." "no, no, it's too dangerous. samba is the very last of my people i should wish to fall into elbel's hands." samba laughed when lepoko repeated this to him. "he no 'fraid elobela," said lepoko. "he hab got foot like leopard, eye like cat, he make elobela plenty much 'fraid. want go plenty much, sah; say mboyo one fader, massa two fader; two times he want go." "shall we let him go, barney?" asked jack doubtfully. "to be sure i would, sorr. he's gone through the forest and cheated the lions and tigers and all the other beasts and creeping things, ivery wan uv 'm a mighty power cleverer than elbel." "barring the lions and tigers, i think you're right, barney. well, if he's to go we must do all we can to help him. could he get down the gully side, i wonder?" "he say dat plenty good way, sah. he lib for swim like fish, go through water, come back all same." "we'll let him down by a rope, barney, and we'll place mboyo at the stockade in charge of it; he'll have the greatest interest in seeing that the boy goes in and out safely. and look here, i've heard samba imitating the cries of various animals; he'd better arrange with mboyo to be ready for him when he hears a certain cry. and he must carry enough food with him to last a day in case he is prevented from getting back. if he's out more than one day he must fend for himself; but i fancy, after what he has already been through, at least it'd be a very bare country where he couldn't pick up enough to keep him going. he's a splendid little fellow." "that's the truth's truth, sorr; and sure, whin we leave this haythen country, he'd better come back wid us to london, sorr. wid him wan side uv me an' pat the other, i'd be on me way to be lord mayor, bedad!" thus it was arranged. with a tinful of food slung about him, samba was let down by a rope from the stockade, and crept in the darkness down the gully. a few minutes later, from some point on the other side, came the strident call of a forest-beetle twice repeated, and mboyo knew that his son was safely across. when morning broke, jack saw that the pickets were placed as they had been on the previous day. he could easily have disposed of several of them, either by rifle fire or by a quick sally; but even at the present stage he had a great reluctance to open hostilities, which must involve much bloodshed and suffering. he resolved to bide his time, knowing that so far as food supply was concerned he had enough for at least a couple of months, and was in that respect probably better placed than elbel, while the secret of the water supply with good luck would escape detection. now that the purpose of the tank was known, jack's prestige among the natives, great as it had been before, was much enhanced, and they had added to their stock of songs one in which the wonderful providence of the inglesa in arranging that the daily water should not fail was glowingly extolled. the day passed undisturbed. jack was puzzled to account for the enemy's silence. elbel must have a scheme in preparation, he thought. what could it be? jack had heard a good deal of hammering going on in the camp below, the sound coming faintly on the breeze; except for that there was no sign of activity; and the hammering was sufficiently accounted for by the work of finishing off the construction of the camp. before turning in for the night he went to the spot where mboyo was posted, to learn whether anything had been heard of samba. while he was there, he caught the low rasping notes of the forest-beetle. "samba n'asi!"[1] cried mboyo, springing up. he lowered the rope over the stockade. in a few moments it was gently tugged, and soon samba slipped over the stockade and stood beside jack. he had an interesting report to make. in the forest, he said, a large number of men were tapping certain trees for a resinous gum, which was being run into small barrels. it was the work of making these barrels that had caused the continuous hammering jack had noticed. "good boy!" said jack. "i suppose you are very tired now, samba?" no, he was not tired; he was ready to go out again at once if lokolobolo wished. but jack said he had done enough for one day, and bade him go to sleep. "so that's their game!" said jack to barney, when all was quiet. "there's only one use for resin here, and that's to fire our fort, and they can't intend to make fireballs, or they wouldn't take the trouble to make barrels. they want barrels for carriage, and that means that they intend to bring the resin here. they can't shy barrels at the natives' huts, and so much of the wall is stone that it won't easily catch fire. what else is there inflammable?" "there's the blockhouses at the corners, sorr." "you're right. they are going to fire the blockhouses. i'm sorry now i didn't make 'm of stone as i intended. but we had enough trouble with the wall, and the natives are so little used to stonework that perhaps after all they'd have made a poor job of it." "sure, i don't see how they are going to get near enough to do any damage, sorr. they can't come up under fire. do the spalpeens think they'll catch us napping, begore?" "can't say, barney. we must wait and see. the sentries are arranged for the night, eh?" "they are that, sorr. 'tis mighty hard to keep the niggers awake; not wan uv 'm but would see the inside uv the guard-room pretty often if they were in the irish fusiliers. but samba and me just take turns to go the rounds all night and keep 'm stirring, sorr; and 'twould be a lucky man that got across into this place widout a crack over the head." the full purpose of elbel was seen earlier than jack had expected. a little before dawn makoko, who had been on duty at the gate in the northern wall, hurried down to say that he had heard a sound as of a number of men marching for some distance up the hill above the fort. jack accompanied him back, gently reprimanding him on the way for leaving his post. judging by the sounds, there was unquestionably a large body of men on the move. they were approaching as quietly as negroes can; it is not an easy matter to persuade a force of black men to keep perfect silence. while jack was still with makoko, another man came running up from the southern end of the fort and reported that he had heard the sound of many men advancing up the stream. clearly a serious attack was intended at last. sending word to barney to remain on the _qui vive_ at the southern wall, jack waited anxiously for the glimmering light of dawn to reveal the enemy. at last he could see them. they took little pains to conceal themselves. elbel's riflemen were assembling on the ridge of the slope above. among them were men carrying each a small barrel on his shoulder. they must have made a wide circuit from their camp below so that their movements might not be suspected until they were well in position. the word was rapidly passed round the fort. in a few seconds every man was at his appointed place. the women and children had been bidden to remain in their huts, for a part of the enclosure being exposed to fire from the slope above, it would have been dangerous for any one to cross. barney and his men at the southern wall were protected from this fire in their rear by the huts. at the northern wall jack stood on a narrow platform by the gate, similar to that which he had used at his former camp near ilola. his riflemen were posted below him, half of them at loop-holes left at intervals in the wall, the remainder just behind, ready to take their places at the word of command. jack was surprised to feel how little flustered he was. the responsibilities of the past months had bred self-control, and the capacity to grasp a situation quickly and act at once. and constant work with the same men, whom he had learned to know thoroughly, had created a mutual confidence which augured well for their success when put to the test. a glance assured jack that the main attack, if attack was intended, would be made by the riflemen. the spearmen in the valley of the river were designed to create a diversion and weaken the force available to oppose the principal assault. barney could be trusted to hold his own against them. so little did the enemy, having gained the position above, seek to conceal their movements, that jack was tempted to salute them with a volley that must have done great execution--the range being scarcely two hundred yards. but elbel seemed to know by instinct the feeling by which jack would be animated. he evidently counted on being allowed to fire first. and indeed there was little time for jack to consider the matter, for even as he made a mental note of the enemy's bravado, he heard a word of command given in a loud voice, and saw elbel emerge from a small clump of bushes at the edge of the gully. the whole force, except ten men carrying barrels, flung themselves flat on their faces; and jack had only time to give a rapid warning to his men when a scattered volley flashed from the line of prone figures, the bullets pattering on the stone wall like hail on a greenhouse. next moment the men with the barrels dashed forward, some making for the blockhouse above the gully, others for that at the opposite end of the northern wall. through the clear space between the two parties the riflemen continued to fire as fast as they could reload. it was clear to jack that elbel expected the fire of his two hundred rifles, added to the unexpectedness of the movement, to keep down the fire of the defenders long enough to enable the barrel men to reach the blockhouses. but in this he was disappointed; nothing but a direct and combined assault on the wall would have gained the time he required. his rifle fire from a distance was quite ineffective. jack had ordered his men to keep out of sight, and to fire through the loop-holes in the wall, aiming, not at the riflemen lying on the ground, but at the men sprinting with the barrels. consequently, when the twenty-five rifles within the fort replied to the first volley, three of the runners fell on the one side and two on the other, their barrels rolling down the slope, some over the edge into the gully, others towards the copse on the east. the other men, seeing the fate of their comrades, thought of nothing but their own safety. they dropped their barrels and rushed back. but even then they did not take the safe course. instead of scattering and so lessening the chances of being hit, the two parties joined, and ran up the slope in a compact group. none of them reached the line of prostrate riflemen who were still blazing away ineffectually at the walls and blockhouses. the unfortunate men were caught in full flight and fell almost at the same moment, each man struck by several bullets. not till then did jack allow his riflemen to turn their attention to the enemy's firing line. but one volley was sufficient. elbel saw that his scheme had totally failed, and his position was untenable. not a man of his opponents could be seen; his men had only small loop-holes to fire at, and the average negro is not a sufficiently good marksman to be formidable in such conditions. the defenders, on the other hand, found the enemy an excellent target; for, by some inexplicable piece of folly, elbel had not ordered them to seek cover behind the many rocks and boulders that were scattered over the ground. he had lost all his barrel men and several of his riflemen, and within five minutes of the first volley he drew off his troops. a yell of delight from the stockade followed his retirement. the men slapped their thighs and shouted "yo! yo!" until they were hoarse. the women and children poured out of the huts and danced about with wild enjoyment. imbono's drummer banged with all his might. some of the boys had made small trumpets of rolled banana leaves, and tootled away to their hearts' content, the sound being not unlike that made by blowing through tissue paper on a comb. amid all the uproar pat's joyous bark acclaimed the success. "faith, sorr, 'tis real mafficking, to be sure." "not quite, barney. there's nobody drunk." "true, an' the haythen sets an example to the christian. there are no grog-shops here, praise be, wan at this corner and wan at that, to tempt the poor craturs." "i only hope they're not shouting too soon, barney. we haven't done with elbel yet." [1] below. chapter xix breaking the blockade throughout that day jack was on the alert in anticipation of another move on the part of the enemy. but elbel's men, except the pickets, did not come within sight of the fort, and nothing was heard of them. samba wished to go out again on a scouting mission, but jack refused to allow him to leave the fort in daylight; perhaps in the darkness he might risk a journey once more. although the attempt to fire the blockhouses had been foiled, jack, thinking over the matter, saw that the feat would not have been impossible with the exercise of a little common sense coupled with dash. a second attempt, better organized, might be successful. "i wish we could guard against the risk," he said to barney. "we don't want to be continuously on the fidget in case the blockhouses are fired. yet we can't make 'em fireproof." "that's true, sorr; still, something might be done to rejuce the inflammation." "what's that?" said jack without a smile. to call in question barney's english was to wound him in the tenderest part. "why, sorr, why not drop down some uv them boulders we keep for repairing the wall? if we let them down wid care to the foot uv the blockhouses, close up against the woodwork, 'twould prevent any wan from setting a match to 'm." "a good idea! we'll try it. get the men to carry the stones up to the wall. we won't do anything more till it is dark." when the sun had set, jack had the stones hauled up to the roof of the blockhouse at the north-west corner, and then dropped down outside, as close to the woodwork as possible. the task was carried on in almost total darkness, only a few rushlights inside the camp preventing the workers from colliding with one another. but it was impossible to contrive that the heavy stones should fall silently, and a shot from up the slope soon told that the enemy had discovered what was going on. active sniping for a time gave jack a good deal of annoyance, and one or two of his men were hit; but he persevered in his work, and had partially accomplished it, when another danger suddenly threatened. up the slope, near the position occupied by the enemy in the morning, there appeared small points of light, which moved apparently at random for a few moments, and then came all in one direction, down the hill. they all started fairly close together, and jack counted twelve in a line; but soon some diverged from the rest and went off at an angle. the others came on more and more rapidly towards the fort, jumping occasionally, but keeping on the whole a surprisingly straight course. "barrels again!" said jack to barney. only a few seconds after he had first observed them, they came with a quick succession of thuds against the wall and the half-finished rampart at the foot of the blockhouse, and the points of light spread out into fierce tongues of flame. lighted matches had been attached to the barrels, and with the bursting of these by the stonework the resin they contained had taken fire. of the dozen barrels that started, only four had reached their goal, the rest having rolled over the gully on the western slope as had happened during the day. jack hoped that his new stonework was sufficient to protect the logs at the base of the blockhouse. but one of the barrels, under the impetus gained in its passage down the hill, had jumped the boulders, and breaking as it crashed over, burst into flame within an inch or two of the woodwork. another line of barrels was starting down the slope. jack had called up his best marksmen at the first alarm, and ordered them to take pot-shots at the twinkling points of light, or the figures above, dimly lit up by the matches attached to the barrels. whether any of the shots got home he could not tell; another set of barrels was trundling down towards the fort. it appeared to jack that nothing could save the blockhouse. burning resin could only be extinguished by a deluge of water, and he had no means of bringing water from the tank in sufficient quantities. the logs were dry, and, when once fairly alight, would burn furiously. barney suggested dropping a heavy boulder on the barrel most dangerously near, but jack saw that the effect of this would be merely to spread the flames without necessarily extinguishing them. the fire would continue beneath the stone; it would lick the lowest logs, and in a few minutes the whole base of the blockhouse would be ablaze. the imminence of the danger acted as a spur to jack's resourcefulness. it flashed upon him that there was one chance of saving the fort. calling to samba to follow him, he rushed from the roof of the blockhouse down the ladders connecting it with the second floor and this with the ground, and ran at full speed to his hut, where he seized an empty tobacco-tin and searched for a piece of wire. for a few moments he could not lay hands on any, but he then bethought himself of the wired cork of a stephens' ink-bottle. wrenching this out, he hastened to the underground magazine where the ammunition was, stored. samba had preceded him thither with a lighted candle in a little lantern of bamboo. among the ammunition was a keg of loose powder sent up by mr. martindale for refilling cartridge cases. while samba very cautiously held the lantern out of harm's way, jack, with the brad of a penknife, bored two thin holes in the tin and two corresponding holes in the lid. then he inserted the wire and filled the tin with powder. clapping on the lid and firmly securing it by twisting up the wire, he rushed back to the blockhouse, up to the roof, and cleared out all the men helter-skelter, bidding them go with samba and bring baskets full of earth to the base of the wall. the place was now reeking with acrid smoke from the burning resin, great black eddies of it whirling over the roof, stinging jack's eyes and making him cough and choke. when none but himself was left--for there was some danger in what he purposed--he went to the edge of the roof, and bending over, almost blinded by the fumes, he marked the spot where the flame seemed the fiercest, and dropped the tin into the midst of it. though he sprang back at once, he had not reached the inmost edge of the roof when there was a loud explosion. the blockhouse rocked; clouds of sparks flew up; and feeling the tremor beneath him, jack feared he had destroyed rather than saved. but the trembling ceased. he rushed back to the fore edge of the roof and peered over. as the smoke cleared away he saw no longer a blazing mass below him; nothing of the barrel was left; but all the ground for many yards around was dotted with little tongues of flame. the force of the explosion had broken up the huge devouring fire into a thousand harmless ones. but the woodwork near which the barrel had rested was smouldering. there was still a danger that the blockhouse would burn. while that danger remained jack felt that his task was not yet done, and he instantly prepared to meet it. flames from the other barrels that had struck the wall were lighting up the scene. to carry out his purpose involved a great risk, but it was a risk that must be run. calling to samba, who had remained nearest at hand, he bade him bring a rope and send barney and makoko to him. when they arrived he got them to knot the rope about him, and let him down over the wall on the gully side, which was in deep shadow. creeping round the blockhouse on the narrow ledge between it and the gully, he called to the men above to lower some of the baskets of earth which had been placed in readiness. as they reached him he emptied them upon the smouldering logs. it was impossible now to keep in the shadow; his every movement was betrayed by the still flaming barrels; and his work was not completed when bullets began to patter about him. his only protection was the rough rampart of boulders which had been thrown over from the roof. but he bent low; it is difficult even for expert marksmen to aim without the guidance of the riflesights, and elbel's men were far from being experts; jack finished his job as rapidly as might be, and escaped without a scratch. then creeping round once more to the gully, he laid hold of the rope and was drawn up into safety. the other blockhouses meanwhile had been in no danger. that at the north-east corner was defended by the nature of the ground, which sloped so rapidly that a barrel rolled from above could never hit the mark. that at the southeast corner, being at the edge of the precipice, could only be fired by the hand of man, and no man could approach it safely. by averting the danger at the north-west jack had saved the camp. but the attempt had been so nearly successful that he resolved to lose no time in completing the work of protection already begun. the moment was come, too, for showing elbel that he could only maintain a thorough investment of the fort with the acquiescence of the besieged. at any time a sally must break the chain of pickets, for elbel's force was not large enough to support them adequately all round. averse as jack was from shedding blood, he felt that it was necessary to teach the enemy a wholesome lesson. before he could do anything, however, he must know how the force was distributed, and how the pickets were placed. he remembered his half promise that samba should be allowed to go scouting that night. no other could be trusted to move so warily or act so intelligently. samba was accordingly let down into the gully. while he was gone jack explained to barney the plan he proposed to try should the boy's information favour it. "i shall lead some of the men out, i don't know yet in what direction. at least it will surprise elbel. i hope it will alarm his men and throw them into confusion. you must take advantage of it to go on with our defences. let down more boulders from the roof, and build them up as fast as you can to form a facing three or four feet high to the two northern blockhouses. you'll only have about half an hour for the job, for elbel will have got his whole force together by then, and i shan't be able to fight them all. but we've plenty of men to turn on to it, and when i give the signal they must tumble over the wall and get to work." within an hour samba returned. he reported that the enemy had all retired to their camp except the pickets. about forty men were posted about a camp fire up stream near the place where the barrels had been rolled down. another picket of the same strength was lying at the edge of the copse about a quarter of a mile to the east, and a third picket lay across the gully to the west. samba had had great difficulty in eluding this western picket, and would have returned sooner but for the detour he had been obliged to make. all favoured jack's enterprise. the pickets were so far from the camp below the southern face of the fort that some time must elapse before help could reach them. they could only support one another, and the idea of a ruse to prevent that had already flashed through jack's mind. selecting fifteen of his steadiest riflemen, including makoko and lepoko, jack had them lowered one by one into the gully, and then himself followed. the night was fortunately very dark; all the flames from the barrels had gone out, and he trusted that the enemy would be quite unprepared for any movement from the fort. when all were assembled, they crept up the gully in dead silence, walking as far from the water as the steep sides allowed, so as to avoid kicking stones into it and making a splash. at first the gully was at least twelve feet deep, but it became more shallow as they proceeded, until by and by its top barely rose above their heads. they had not gone far when they heard laughing and talking beyond them. however elbel might regard his defeat, it had evidently not affected the spirits of his men; the negro's cheerfulness is hard to quench. at a bend in the stream, out of sight from the fort, shone the faint glow of the camp fire; and jack, peeping cautiously round, saw a sentry on each bank, moving backwards and forwards, but stopping now and again to exchange pleasantries, or more often fatuous remarks about food, with the rest of the picket at the fire. it was nothing new to jack that the congo soldier's idea of sentry-go is somewhat loose. again jack was favoured by circumstances. the glow of the fire did not extend far into the darkness of the gully; the noise of the laughing and talking was loud enough to drown all slight sounds for some distance around. thus the sixteen men in the gully could approach very near the camp fire without being seen or heard. jack's plan, already half formed before he started, was quickly adapted to the conditions. silently gathering his men together, he ordered them in a whisper to follow him in a charge with the bayonet; not to fire except at the word of command; not in their pursuit of the enemy to go beyond the camp fire. it would have been easy to dispose of at least a third of the picket by firing upon them from the darkness; the distance was only about a hundred yards, and every shot would tell, for they were huddled together. such an act would be justified by all the rules of warfare. jack knew that in a like case he would receive no mercy from the enemy; but he was too young a campaigner to deal with them as they would deal with him; he could not give the order to shoot them down unawares. when his men clearly understood what was required of them he led the way, and they all crept forward again. the glow of the fire now made them dimly visible to one another, but not to the picket, who were in the full light, nor to the sentries, whose attention was largely taken up by the proceedings of their comrades. when the sound of talking lulled for a few moments, jack halted; when it grew in force, and he heard the sentries join in the chatter, he seized the opportunity to steal forward a few yards more. so by slow degrees they approached within forty paces. to go further without discovery seemed to jack impossible. pausing for a moment to whisper once more to his men, he suddenly shouted the order to charge, and, springing up the bank, dashed forward with a cheer that was reinforced by the yells from fifteen lusty throats. the sounds of joviality about the camp fire died on the instant; the cheer from the river, echoed by the rocky walls of the gully, seemed to come from a host of men. yells of alarm broke from the dusky figures by the fire. some of the men seemed for the moment spellbound; others leapt to their feet and made a dash for the rifles stacked close by, tumbling over one another in their agitation; the majority simply scurried away like hares into the darkness, only anxious to get as far away as possible from this shouting host that had sprung as it were out of nothingness. as jack's men rushed up there were a few reports of rifles hastily shot off, and eight or nine men made as if to stand firm near the camp fire; but they could not face the steel gleaming red in the glow. one or two hapless wretches were bayonetted before they had time to run; the rest, with a wild howl, flung down their weapons and bolted. the sound of the conflict, jack knew, would be taken by barney as the signal to begin work outside the blockhouses. what would be its effect on the enemy? would it draw their pickets on the right and left to the support of their comrades? or would they be so much alarmed that nothing but flight would occur to them? he thought the probabilities favoured the former, for the firing having ceased, the immediate cause of alarm would seem to have been removed. without staying to consider that the chain of investment would be broken by their action, the outer pickets would in all likelihood move towards each other for mutual support. here was an opportunity which jack was quick to seize. without a moment's loss of time, he called his men together and hurried back down the gully, where he ordered them to line the banks on both sides, keeping well in shadow from the light of the fire. the position they took up was about forty yards below the bivouac, almost the same spot from which the charge had been made. the men had only just established themselves when the picket from the eastern quarter came running up. jack's situation was now so serious that he had no longer any compunction. as the negroes emerged from the gloom into the light of the camp fire, he ordered his men on the opposite bank to shoot. several of the enemy fell; the rest turned tail, finding their comrades falling about them without being able to see their assailants. but they did not run far; when they had passed beyond the circle of light they halted. meanwhile all was quiet from the direction of the other picket beyond the gully. if this was advancing, it was with more caution. for some minutes no sound was heard; then on his left hand lepoko detected a slight rustle in the brushwood, and he whispered to jack that the enemy were creeping forward, feeling their way. at the same time there were sounds of movement on the right. now was the chance to attempt a ruse. withdrawing his men stealthily down the stream for a hundred yards, jack halted. the camp fire was dying down for want of fresh fuel; he hoped that the two parties would mistake each other in the gloom. a quarter of an hour passed. then the air rang with shots and shouts; the two pickets had met and come into conflict. the error was soon discovered, and then there arose a terrific clamour as each party accused the other. jack considered that the work of the fort should have been completed by this time, all danger of interruption by the pickets having been removed by his sortie. he therefore led his men back along the gully, and arrived to find barney putting the finishing touches to the work by the light of his bamboo lantern. "all well?" said jack. "all well, sorr. you're not hurt at all?" "not a bit. none of us scratched. now we'll get back. i don't think they'll try that particular dodge again." they had hardly returned within the stockade when they heard the sound of a considerable body of men moving up the opposite bank of the stream towards the pickets above. "too late!" said jack with a chuckle. "truth, sorr. that elbel was niver intended for a sojer, 'tis plain. but who are the two white men wid him, thin? sure, i thought he'd brought 'em wid him to tache him what to do, but they would all seem to be birds uv wan feather, sorr." "we may find out by and by, perhaps to our cost. meanwhile we had better man the walls and blockhouses in case he's going to favour us with a night attack." but the sounds of movement among the enemy ceased, and the remainder of the night passed in unbroken quietness. chapter xx david and goliath next morning jack's men found resting against the stone wall of the fort several barrels of resin which had not burned. the bumping they had received in rolling down the slope had shaken out the fuses. this was a lucky discovery. the inflammable contents of the barrels would come in useful--for making fireballs, if for no other purpose. jack had them carried into the fort and stored in the magazine. very soon after daybreak jack saw what seemed to be the greater portion of elbel's force moving up the hill. he counted at least five hundred men, and noticed that only about a hundred of these were riflemen, the remainder carrying spears, or tools of some kind. "you see what they are at, barney?" he said. "shifting their camp, by what it appears, sorr." "no, i don't think that's it. elbel has failed with fire; he's now going to try water. he's going to cut off our water supply." "sure he's entitled to, as we don't pay rates, which is rubber. but we can do widout his water supply, sorr, having a private distillery uv our own." "i'm pretty sure i'm right, for you see the men are going a great deal farther up the hill than they need if they're merely looking for another base of attack." "bedad, why shouldn't we have a little rifle practice at 'em, sorr? 'tis long range firing, indeed, but mighty good practice." "no. our ammunition is too precious to be wasted; and even if we hit a few of them, that wouldn't stop elbel's scheme, whatever it is. we'll keep our eye on the river and see if there's any shrinkage." it was not until late in the afternoon that he got positive proof that elbel was in fact diverting the stream. he had fancied for some time that the height of the water was less, but only about four o'clock did the fall become decided. after that, however, the stream dwindled very rapidly, until, towards nightfall, there was only a thin trickle of water in the river bed below the fort, where in the morning the stream had been twenty feet broad and nearly six feet deep. at the same time a remarkable change in the appearance of the country east of the fort had attracted the attention of the natives, who swarmed upon the platform on that side and gazed in amazement. lokolobolo had brought water into their camp; but who had made water run in a swift river where no river had ever been before? nearly a mile away to the east, a broad shallow stream was rushing down the slope that extended from the precipice on which the fort stood to the foothills two miles beneath. the river, dammed no doubt by boulders far up the hill, had now been forced into the course which, but for a rocky barrier, it would long since have discovered for itself. "a very pretty scheme, bedad!" said barney. "and i just wish we could set a fountain going, like those in trafalgar square, just to show mr. elbel that he may have his river all to himself if he pleases." "that wouldn't do at all, barney. we don't want to flaunt our good fortune. in fact, our best course is to keep elbel in the dark. indeed i think we had better stop that overflow from our tank. now that the cataract has dried up, the overflow would easily be seen." "but what'll we do wid the overflow, sorr? sure, we don't want a flood in the camp!" "certainly not. we'll break it up into a number of tiny trickles, and let them find their way through the wall at different points. they'll be sucked up or disappear before they reach the ground below." "bedad, now, i would niver have thought of that! mr. elbel will think we get our water from heaven, sorr, if he's iver heard uv it." the work of damming the river having been accomplished, the main body of the enemy marched down just before dark and regained their camp. as they passed within earshot of the fort, elbel's negroes could not refrain from flinging taunts at the men of their colour within the walls, telling them that they could no longer cook their food, much less wash their babies. this made the men very angry; they prepared to blaze away with their rifles at the gibing enemy, and jack's command to drop their weapons might, perhaps, for once have been disregarded had not samba suddenly struck up the song which one of the men had composed, chronicling lokolobolo's great deeds with water and fire: lokolobolo in ilombekabasi dug a great hole, filled it with waters great is his magic! how can we praise him- lokolobolo? lo! elobela came with the fire tubs to ilombekabasi. but the inglesa lokolobolo filled a pot with the fire-stuff. what a noise! what a smoke! fire tubs are broken. ha! elobela! where is your fire now? what is the good of you? inglesa's magic no one can master. is it fire? is it water? lokolobolo in ilombekabasi quenches the fire, keeps water for black men. ha! elobela, go home to your cook-pot. no good in this land, in ilombekabasi. the song was taken up one by one by the people, and in the delight of singing lokolobolo's praise and elobela's shame, the jeers of the negroes outside were forgotten. that night elbel posted no regular pickets round the fort. he had clearly given up the idea of a strict blockade, which was indeed impossible with the force at his command; but except for the desire to mask his own movements, he lost nothing by the withdrawal of his pickets, for even if the garrison took advantage of it to issue from the fort, they could make little use of their freedom in a country bare of supplies. jack did not doubt that elbel had many scouts abroad, and would be on the watch for an attempt to obtain water. he would imagine that none was procurable save from a distance of at least half a mile from the fort, and was doubtless already congratulating himself on the success of his strategy. several days passed, and life went on in the camp as peacefully as though no enemy was near. the women performed their daily tasks of cleaning and cooking; the men drilled and exercised; the children amused themselves as children always can. jack took it into his head to teach them some of the round games popular with english children, knowing that the elders were sure to copy them; and every little novelty tended to amuse them and keep them cheerful. indeed, he found the men so like children in their capacity for finding easy amusement, that one day he started a game of leap-frog for them, and soon the whole camp was hilarious, the men springing over one another's backs all round the enclosure with great shouts of laughter. as jack expected, elbel kept a sharp watch by means of scouts all round the fort, to ensure that no water reached the besieged. jack smiled as he pictured the belgian's amazement, when day after day went by without any sign of distress. now that the regular night pickets were removed, some of jack's men found it easy to get out for little scouting expeditions; and except for an occasional brush between men of the two forces employed in this duty, there was nothing to show that four hundred men on the one side, and seven hundred on the other, were engaged in deadly warfare. in these duels the men of ilombekabasi invariably came off best. they were at home equally in the forest and the plain; the enemy were for the most drawn from the lower congo--an inferior type of negro and less used to fighting in wooded districts. and a long immunity had rendered them careless. they were accustomed to see whole villages panic-stricken at the sight of an albini rifle. they had had no need to cultivate the art of scouting, except in tracking runaways; nor even the higher kind of marksmanship; for it was their practice to tie their victim to a tree before shooting: in this way the state or the concessionary company was saved ammunition. indeed, one cartridge was frequently sufficient to account for two or more men, women, or children, if they were tied up with due regard for the convenience of the marksman. it was a new and very disconcerting experience to meet men of their own colour who were not afraid of them, and they did not easily adapt themselves to the new condition of things. for this work of scouting jack had found no man yet to match samba. the boy seemed to be endowed with a sixth sense, for he went safely in the most dangerous places, returned more quickly than the rest, and brought more information. and though he soon made himself expert with the rifle presented him by jack after the buffalo hunt, he never took it with him on these scouting trips, preferring to go unencumbered. he relied on his knife. one morning, when jack was awakened as usual by barney, he noticed a very comical look on the irishman's face. "anything happened?" he said. "bedad, sorr, i didn't mean to tell ye till ye were dressed. what d'ye think that little varmint has done now?" "samba? no mischief, i hope." "mischief, begorra! just after daybreak, whin you were sound asleep, sorr, and i was going the rounds as usual, mboyo calls to me from the wall, and whin i comes up to 'm, there he is hauling like the divil on the rope. 'samba must be getting fat like me,' says i to meself, lending a hand, 'for sure the boy will not need such a mighty big haul.' mboyo jabbered away, but i couldn't understand him. and then, sorr, up comes a villainous ugly head, followed by a body ten times the size of samba's, and a big nigger comes over, almost choked with a new kind uv necklace he was wearing, and shaking with the most terrible fright mortal man was iver in. mboyo lets down the rope again, and up comes samba, grinning like a cheshire cat. "'me hab catch,' says he. 'catch what?' says i. 'begorra!' says he, 'bont'one!'[1] which was dutch to me, sorr, only he pointed to the nigger. 'catch him?' says i. he nodded his head till i thought 'twould break off. 'ku?'[2] says i. 'nyango!'[3] says he; and thin i laughed, sorr, 'cos the idea uv a boy taking prisoner a man ten times his size----" "draw it mild, barney." "true, sorr, he doesn't look quite so big as he did. i wished to wake ye at once, but samba said no, he'd keep the prisoner safe till your usual time, and here he is, sorr, and the prisoner too." jack had been putting on his clothes while barney spoke. leaving the hut he saw samba holding one end of the tendril of a creeper, the other end being looped about the neck of a tall strong negro. jack listened patiently, and with the aid of many questions, was able to piece out his story. creeping in the darkness up the dry river bed some distance from the fort, samba had seen for a moment the form of a man dimly silhouetted against the starlit sky. then the man disappeared; but it was child's play to find him again, for he made his way into the channel and moved slowly down towards the fort. he had a rifle, and was head and shoulders taller than samba; but neither his strength nor his weapon was to avail him against the ingenuity and cat-like agility of his young enemy. it would have been easy for samba to stalk him and make an end of him with the knife; but a brilliant idea occurred to the boy: how much better to capture him and take a living prisoner to the fort! for two hours samba kept in touch with him, never more than a few yards away, yet never by the slightest sound betraying his presence. at last the man found a position above the fort which satisfied him, for he established himself there, apparently intending to wait for the dawn. samba felt sure that when he moved to regain his own camp he would retrace his steps up stream. to go down would bring him within view of the fort. his course would be to ascend the channel and fetch a wide circuit back to his own people. samba acted quickly on this assumption. as silently as a shadow he glided past the man until, some distance up the channel, groping on the bank, he came across a tough creeper. from this he cut off three or four yards of a pliant tendril, and with deft fingers made a slip-knot at one end. then he went again down stream, and made his way to a rock overhanging the left bank, whence he had many a time speared fish while the fort was being built. on this rock he lay at full length, ready to move at the slightest sign of the negro stirring. when dawn broke samba saw that the man was staring intently at the fort. after a prolonged examination he turned, and, as samba expected, moved up the gully, keeping under the left bank to avoid observation from the walls. slowly and cautiously he picked his way upward, little recking of the lithe form stretched like a panther on the rock above. he was passing the rock, the rifle in his left hand, the right hand assisting his wary steps over the rugged channel, when the lasso curled gently over his head; a short vigorous tug, and the man, dropping his rifle and clutching at the strangling cord around his throat, was pulled backward on to the rocky side of the gully. samba had marked where the rifle fell, and leapt nimbly down. before the negro, wriggling to his feet, had succeeded in loosing the terrible noose, samba was at his side, the albini in his hand. the suddenness of the onset and the shock of his fall had robbed the man of all power of action. when samba said that he must either accompany him to ilombekabasi or be shot, he saw no third course and accepted the first. perhaps he was tired of his service with elobela; perhaps he was curious to see the village of the wonderful lokolobolo; certainly he was very much afraid of being shot. so he made no resistance, but went quickly down the gully, a step or two in advance of samba, who carried the rifle, as he did not fail to remind his captive from time to time. through lepoko jack questioned the man. he showed no reluctance to answer; no wish to conceal his employer's purposes. _esprit de corps_, jack surmised, was a sentiment not cultivated on the congo. the prisoner confessed that elobela exulted in the belief that within a few days the fort would be compelled to surrender by lack of water. and he had promised his men an orgy when the surrender should take place. not a soul should be spared. there were man-eaters among his force, and they were looking forward to a choice banquet; many young and tender children frolicked in ilombekabasi. jack felt himself turn pale as he heard this. the facts were coming home to him. the thought that little bakota, the chubby boy whom barney employed to wash dishes, or little ilangala, the girl whom the same indefatigable factotum had taught to darn his socks, might fall into the hands of these ruthless cannibals, to be torn limb from limb, and sacrificed to their brutal appetites, kindled emotion within him much more poignant than the mere report that such things had happened in the collection of rubber on the congo, somewhere, at some time. he dismissed the man under guard, and went to his hut, wishing to be alone. an hour or two later lepoko came to him; the prisoner had given more information. "him say, sah, big massa lib for come back up ribber. him say elobela no let massa come to ilombekabasi; catch him, sah." here was a new source of uneasiness and anxiety. jack had longed for his uncle's return; now he almost wished that something had happened to prevent his departure. already he had had such proofs of elbel's vindictive and unscrupulous temper that he dreaded what might happen should mr. martindale fall into his hands. but for the moment he saw no means of warning his uncle, and he tried to crush his fears and forebodings. during the next few days several of elbel's scouts were killed or wounded by jack's men, who had so far been wonderfully successful in escaping injury. one man of the enemy who was brought in wounded confirmed the first prisoner's statement that the inglesa was said to be on his way. the river was being watched at various points of its course, and jack recognized the hopelessness of attempting to evade these sentinels and give his uncle timely warning. ten days had passed since the stream had been diverted, and the last captured scout said that elobela was growing very impatient. he could not understand how the fort had been able to hold out so long. every day he expected to see a flag of truce hoisted, and to receive a message asking for the terms of surrender. one evening another scout was captured, and from him jack learnt that his secret had at last been partially discovered. angry at being so long baulked, elbel had determined to find out the source whence the defenders obtained the water he knew they must have. he sent out scouts for this express purpose. one of them, creeping up the bed of the stream below the southern face of the fort, had discovered that the precipice, which from a distance looked dry, was running with water, and that a thin stream was trickling into the gully. the ground had gradually become saturated, and the overflow, which had at first disappeared into the earth, was now making itself only too visible. when the discovery was reported to elbel, he concluded that there must be a spring within the fort. great was his fury at having wasted so much time and labour fruitlessly. in his anger he declared that the defenders should have plenty of water in future. "what did he mean by that?" asked jack. the man did not know. elobela did not tell all his purposes to the black men. the very next morning it was observed that a large body of men was again on the move up the hill. jack hurried to the top of the north-west blockhouse and followed the movements through his field-glass. this time an even larger force was engaged than had been previously employed to dam the stream. two parties, riflemen and spearmen, numbering in all, as he estimated, nearly six hundred, were marching up the heights. clearly some new work was to be undertaken, and it must be of no little magnitude. there were no signs of preparation for an immediate attack. the troops continued their upward march for at least a mile. then jack was surprised to see them set to work rolling boulders down the hill towards the slope at the north-east of the fort and the new course of the river. whatever the scheme was, it involved a great deal of labour, for the whole day was spent upon it, and still the parties of workers had made but small progress down the hillside. it became clear to jack that the supply of boulders lower down had been used up in constructing the dam. more boulders were evidently required, and to procure these elbel had had to take his men a considerable distance up the hill. late in the afternoon the negroes were marched back to camp. as soon as it appeared safe, jack sent samba out to ascertain what had been done. when he came back he reported that a large quantity of stones had been collected near the dam, and that though the main body had returned to their camp, there were still several large parties engaged in hauling boulders nearly a mile away from this point. jack could form no idea of what elbel's plan was; but it seemed to him that in any case the time had come to meet it with a counterstroke. for hours that night he sat with barney discussing every means of striking a blow that occurred to him; but he came to no decision. a stand-up fight in the open was impossible; there could only be one end to that, outnumbered as jack was in riflemen by nearly five to one, and at present the enemy's movements did not suggest to him any opportunity for stratagem. next morning he stood with barney at the wall, watching the enemy as once more they marched up to the scene of the previous day's work. as usual, he did his best to count them--no easy matter, for the men did not march in orderly ranks like a disciplined regiment, but either in small groups or in several long files. "elbel is getting impatient," remarked jack at last. "he wants to hurry up that work of his, for i make out that he is taking over fifty more men up to-day." "sure there can't be more than fifty left in camp, sorr." "i suppose not. that's rather risky," he added thoughtfully--"in an enemy's country, barney." "would you be meaning to go for them, sorr?" returned barney, his eyes lighting up. "bedad, i'd rejoice in that same. i haven't told ye, sorr, but many's the time i've felt i should just go raging mad if i had to stay in this camp much longer. 'tis all very safe and comfortable, sorr, but 'tis a prison all the same, and there's no man on earth likes to be caged up less than an irishman." "d'you think we could do it, barney? the camp is only about half a mile below us; elbel's men are a mile above, some at least a mile and a half. could we rush the camp before the main body could be brought to its relief?" "say 'tis two miles between 'em as the crow flies; they could run that in twelve minutes widout distressing themselves." "but they couldn't take the shortest road, because that would bring them under fire from our walls. the distance would be a good deal more than two miles. and we should have to cover half that distance to the camp and back, the return journey up hill. it doesn't leave much margin, barney." "five minutes at the very most, sorr. but a man can do a power uv fighting in five minutes." "let us think it out carefully. we mustn't throw away all our success by a mad enterprise now. we oughtn't to weaken the defensive strength here much, for elbel has such numbers that he could afford to lose a few in storming." "and we needn't, sorr. 'tis not numbers that will count in rushing the camp; 'tis dash, sorr, and ivery man together." "that's quite true. and i think our men will work together better than elbel's. but there's a very serious difficulty--that outpost of his half-way between us and his camp. it's the only post he has kept up permanently, and now it's a nuisance to us." he referred to a couple of men stationed at the edge of a copse to the west of the stream. they were screened by rocks, and from their position they could see the blockhouses and the tops of the huts, and keep the west and south quarters of the fort under fairly strict observation. "you see, they would instantly detect any movement of ours down the hill; and by the time we got to the camp the enemy would be on the _qui vive_." "there's only wan thing to be done, sorr." "well?" "shut the eyes and the ears and the mouths uv the niggers at the outpost." "all very well; but they're too well screened to be shot at, and killing them is the only way to destroy all their senses. besides, it would be madness to fire. the sound would alarm the enemy and spoil our plans." "'twas not meself that thought uv firing at all at all, sorr. i was thinking uv samba." "samba! what can he do?" "sure and i don't know no more than the dead, or i'd tell it you meself, sorr. but samba's the ould wan himself at schaming; will i fetch him?" "certainly. we'll see if he can do anything. hurry up!" [1] this man. [2] are you speaking the truth? [3] mother!--the strongest affirmative. chapter xxi a dash and all together barney brought back with him both father and son. mboyo was a finely-built negro, but samba, who had been growing rapidly, promised to outstrip his father in height, as he already excelled him in nimbleness of wit. he had a noble brow, and eyes of extraordinary lustre; and jack could not help contrasting him with the mean-looking white man, who, in the providence of king leopold, was entrusted with the lives of such people as these. jack explained his purpose, and the difficulty which seemed to stand in the way. a glance was exchanged between samba and his father; then the boy said that they would deal with the outpost. "how will you do it?" "we will creep upon them." "but it is daylight." "true. we may fail; but we will do our best." "very well. now we must get our men together, barney. it will be useless for samba and mboyo to start until we are ready. in fact, we will postpone the whole thing for an hour or two. in the hottest part of the day the men in the camp will very likely be dozing or fast asleep; even if they're awake, they'll probably not have all their wits about them." he selected twenty riflemen, including imbono, makoko, and lepoko, and fifty spearmen, the pick of the force, and ordered them to assemble at a given signal at a small exit he had recently had cut in the base of the wall on the gully side. the hole had been made at a spot where the gully was very rugged and covered with creepers, so that any one leaving the fort by this small aperture could scarcely be detected except by an observer placed immediately opposite. the portion of the wall which had been removed could be replaced, and it would be impossible, save on very close scrutiny, to discover the existence of the exit. a dozen of the men, besides carrying their weapons, were to sling round their shoulders some large fireballs which had been made under barney's superintendence from the resin in the confiscated barrels. "begorra, sorr, 'tis meself that has an idea!" cried barney in the midst of these preparations. "couldn't we do something to hould the attention uv those villains at the outpost while samba and the chief are doing their job?" "a good idea, indeed. what do you suggest?" "'deed now, i wish we had mike henchie and denis o'sullivan and a few more uv the bhoys. we'd treat the niggers to the finest dancing wid the shillelagh that iver was seen this side uv limerick." "i wish we had! you speak of shillelaghs. won't indian clubs do? i have it! we'll get some of the children to go through their exercises. go and collect them, samba--lofinda and ilafa and lokilo and isungila, they're the best, and about a dozen more. but hang it! i forgot. they won't be seen over the wall." "sure there's the platform by the blockhouse, sorr. 'tis uncommon small for a stage play, but 'tis meself could make it wider in a brace uv shakes." "then do so, like a good fellow. it's a capital idea of yours, barney." the platform was quickly enlarged. then, just after midday, when the sun was blazing fiercely, and in the ordinary course of things everybody would be at rest in the huts, barney marshalled some twenty children, boys and girls, on the platform, and jack accompanied mboyo and samba to the little exit. "you must give me a signal if you succeed with the outpost," said jack, as they prepared to slip through. "it must not be a sound. you had better show yourself for a moment above the rocks, samba." the instant they had reached the gully, imbono's drummer began to beat his drum, not with the powerful strokes that would have sent a thunderous boom echoing for miles around, but with gentle taps that would scarcely be heard beyond the two outposts. at the same time two or three children blew softly through their little trumpets of banana leaves. in a moment two woolly heads could be seen cautiously peeping over the rocks for which mboyo and samba were making. then the performance began. instructed by barney, the children on the platform swung their clubs about, wondering why they were forbidden to sing the song about lokolobolo which usually accompanied their exercise. they knew nothing of the intention of their instructor, nor why he had chosen this hot hour instead of the cool of the evening; but they loved him, and delighted in the rhythmic motion, and they plied their clubs gracefully, all unconscious of the four curious eyes watching them from the rocks a few hundred yards away. jack saw nothing of their pretty movements. he was at the wall. the two men of the outpost gazed at the children. jack gazed at them. below him squatted his warriors, subdued to unnatural quietness by the thought of what was before them. impatiently they waited for the word. they did not know exactly what they were to do; lokolobolo had simply said they were to follow him. but they knew lokolobolo; had he not time and again brought elobela's schemes to nought? lokolobolo had said they were to follow him; and they were confident that where he led was the one place in the world for them. twenty minutes passed. the performance on the platform still went on. then jack suddenly saw the two black heads above the rocks disappear. next moment samba's head showed itself where they had been. "aiyoko!"[1] said jack to his men. quickly, one by one, they slipped through the narrow hole, and formed up under cover of the thick-growing creepers in the gully. jack went last, saw that the opening was closed behind him, and turned to address his men. "we are going to elobela's camp," he said. "we shall go down the gully until we come opposite to it, then i shall lead you; you will come behind me silently, keeping your ranks. i hope the men in the camp may be asleep. you will not fire until i give the word. when we have driven them out of the camp, those of you who have fireballs will set fire to their huts. then seize on all the guns and ammunition you can find, and return as quickly as possible to the fort." the men's eyes gleamed with excitement. stealthily as panthers they crept down the dry gully after their leader. they did not know that behind them, at the wall, barney, having abruptly dismissed the children, was watching with a very wistful look. the good fellow wished that he were with them. down they went, as rapidly as the rough ground permitted, scarcely making a sound. at length jack halted. he turned and gave one quick glance over the eager faces; there was no falterer among his band. then he scrambled over the brink of the gully. lepoko was first after him, makoko was second; the rest of the men stood upon no order of going, but made each for the easiest point of ascent. and there mboyo and samba joined them. standing on gently sloping ground jack looked eagerly ahead. had his movement been detected? there, two hundred yards away, was the camp within its light stockade. not a man was to be seen. the midday sun beat fiercely down; doubtless the garrison were enjoying a siesta. no sentry was posted, or, if posted, he had forgotten his duty. the gate of ilombekabasi on the northern face was far away; what simple negro would suppose that the enemy was approaching silently from the nearer end? in compact and orderly ranks jack's men were sprinting noiselessly after him, holding their weapons so that no clash or click should disturb the silent camp. they were within a few yards of the stockade when suddenly there was a cry. all were black men in the camp save one. at that moment he, in the intolerable heat, was about to leave his tent and bathe in a clear stream that ran through the enclosure. he saw the running band; he cried to his men, and, flinging away his towel, sprang back to his hut to get his rifle. he was too late. jack, getting a "shove up" from one of his men, was on and over the stockade in a few seconds; his men were leaping all around him. and now their tongues were loosened. yells and rifle shots aroused the lethargic garrison, some from sleep within their huts, some from drowsy lolling in shady quarters by the stockade. for most of them one glance was enough. here was lokolobolo, the inglesa, and with him a crowd of men among whom they recognized some they had beaten in ilola with the whip. with frantic yells of alarm they ran for dear life across the compound to the gate on the further side, out into the open, never pausing until they had gained the forest fringe, with half a mile between them and the men they feared. but not all; the white man had seized his rifle and collected a small band about him. mboyo, near jack, gave a cry; among the negroes around the white man he saw boloko, his renegade brother. taking cover where they could, they began to fire at the invaders, hastily, frantically. but jack had his men in hand. bidding them also take cover, he sent those who had fireballs to creep round the camp and set light to the huts. soon volumes of dense suffocating smoke bellied across the camp, screening attackers from defenders. then jack gave the order to close in upon the few who resisted. with triumphant yells his men swept forward through the smoke--a few shots were fired; one or two men fell; then the white man, with boloko and the rest of his band at his heels, made a dash for the gate. two men dropped ere they could pass through; but the white man and boloko and half a dozen others were more fortunate. out in the open they ran like hunted deer; and elobela's burning camp was left in the hands of lokolobolo. jack lost no time. the stockade and the huts on the windward side were ablaze; soon the whole place must be in flames. the sound of the shots, the sight of the smoke, would bring back elbel and all his force. shouting to his men to collect all the arms and ammunition they could carry and then rush back to the fort, jack went outside the stockade beyond the cloud of smoke to keep watch. the flames were roaring and crackling behind him; but even at this distance, nearly two miles from the place where elbel was at work, he fancied he heard the shouts of the amazed and angry enemy. then suddenly the deep resonant note of imbono's drum struck his ear. barney must be warning him! he turned and called to his men to delay no longer. back to the fort! meanwhile barney had followed the movements of the gallant band. he heard the shots and yells, and saw the first spiral of smoke; then he hastened to the northwest blockhouse, calling to all the riflemen left with him to line the wall overlooking the gully. in a few minutes he saw the negroes above dashing helter-skelter down the slope. and yes! there was elbel at their head, a figure in white, running as though he were running for a prize. barney smiled with satisfaction. "begorra! they're forgetting me!" he murmured pleasantly, as he saw that the enemy, in their frantic haste, were making for the shortest path along the further edge of the gully, within easy range of the camp. barney determined to wait until they were well abreast of him, and then give them a volley. but the impatience of a negro forced his hand. in the excitement of the moment one of the riflemen, free from jack's restraining presence, fired his piece. the shot brought elbel to his senses. he suddenly remembered the danger into which he was running. turning sharp to the right, he sprinted straight to the cover of the copse. some of his men followed him; others ran heedlessly on. growling at the man who had spoilt his scheme, barney gave the order to fire, and half a dozen of the enemy fell. but elbel had escaped; and the rest of his men took warning and diverged from the direct course as he had done. barney saw that further efforts would be wasted; so, ordering his men to cease fire, he returned to the other end of the fort to see how jack was faring. [illustration: jack rushes elbel's camp] here they come! makoko is leading, staggering up the gully under the weight of half a dozen rifles. behind him is lombola, poising a load of ammunition on his head. there is lingombela, with a bundle of cartridge pouches roped to his back. so one after another they file up the gully. barney opens the little gate in the wall; willing helpers within haul the loads through. no man enters until all the rifles and ammunition have been handed in; then they scramble through, laughing and jesting; and jack comes last of all. "well done, sorr!" said barney heartily. "well done, barney!" returned jack, gripping his hand. "by jove! what's that?" a loud explosion set the air trembling, and a hundred echoes flying from the rocks around. a dense volume of flame and smoke rose from the site of elbel's camp. "there goes the last of their ammunition!" said jack with a laugh. "we've got best part of it here." "bedad, sorr, now's the chance for me meself. give me leave, sorr, and i'll go at them wid the men and wipe them clean off the face uv the earth." "stop, stop, barney! we mustn't be impatient. they've no more ammunition in reserve, but every man who was with elbel will have a good many rounds with him. we can't risk a pitched battle against two hundred rifles." "ochone, sorr! will i niver get a chance at all?" "cheer up! your chance will come, and you've done splendidly as it is. it was a fine idea of yours to sound that drum when you saw them running down. and it was your idea to set something going here to occupy the attention of the outpost. by the by, i haven't had time to ask samba yet how they dealt with those fellows." he called up the boy. his story was very simple. mboyo and he had crawled round under cover of the rocks and bushes, and came upon the unsuspecting sentries from the rear. they had their knives; the men died without a sound. jack shuddered. it was not an englishman's way of dealing with an enemy; it was the negro's way. but his feeling of compunction was somewhat diminished when samba added that one of the men was bomolo, the brutal forest guard who had been the terror of imbono's people. for how many maimings and murders had this man been responsible? surely in this quick death he had met with far less than his deserts! jack had every reason to be satisfied with the success of his sortie. to have burned the enemy's camp; captured more than half his reserve ammunition, and destroyed the rest, was no mean feat. and as for the people of ilombekabasi, they were frantic with delight. so quietly had jack made his preparations that the majority of the people knew nothing of what was happening until they heard the first shot. then they crowded to the wall and watched eagerly. the camp itself was hidden from them by the contour of the hill, but they saw the smoke rising above the bushes and hailed it with loud shouts. when they understood the meaning of the great noise that followed lokolobolo's return they were almost beside themselves with joy. and in the cool of the evening jack allowed them to hold a great feast, after which imbono reeled off a long oration in praise of lokolobolo, and the village bard composed and chanted a new song in numerous stanzas, the whole populace roaring the chorus:- o kelaki na? bomong'ilombe, bosak'owa wanga,[2] lokolobolo! for several days after the sortie jack was left undisturbed. he guessed how elbel was occupied, and his conjecture was confirmed by samba, who at once resumed his scouting work. elbel was constructing another camp a good distance east of his former position. and he was spending more time and labour on it; the stockade was more than usually high and thick, and was flanked with bastions after the model of the blockhouses at ilombekabasi. samba also discovered that on the day after the burning of the camp one of the white men with twenty paddlers had gone down the river. jack had no doubt that he had been despatched to the headquarters of his company for more ammunition. clearly elbel was rendered only the more determined by his successive rebuffs. "and i don't wonder at it," remarked jack, talking the situation over with barney. "we are making hay of the rubber collection in this district, and elbel's company will be pretty mad with him. i understand why he hasn't got help before this from the state forces. for one thing he has got to rehabilitate himself with his company, who'll certainly cashier him if he doesn't find a way out of the mess he has got into. for another thing, if he brings the state forces on the scene, he'll most likely lose all chance of collaring uncle's gold, and i believe that's at the bottom of it right through. but things can't last much longer as they are. the state must intervene soon, whether elbel likes it or not." "and what then, sorr?" "then it will be all up with us, i'm afraid. but we won't look forward to that. i only wish i could find some means of sending word to england of what goes on here, and what we're doing." "what would be the good uv it, sorr? sorrow a bit." "why do you say that?" "why! because in england they're all too busy making money to attend to such things--making money, sorr, or fighting tooth and nail about education, or dreaming about football. now if ireland had home rule----" "no politics, barney! i don't agree with you. i'm as sure as i'm alive that if the people at home really knew how abominably the natives are treated--knew about the floggings and maimings and murders, they'd make such an outcry that either king leopold would be forced to change his policy, or some one would step in and manage things for him. if only england and america would join hands!" when elbel had completed his new camp, he resumed the work far up the hill which the sortie had interrupted. jack was still at a loss to understand what the belgian's scheme was, and he was prevented from finding out, by the fact that every night a strong body was left on guard, as he knew by the many camp fires at the top of the ridge. one afternoon, however, the secret was explained. one of the men placed on the look-out at the north-eastern blockhouse reported that he saw a stream of water rushing down the hill. jack hastened to the spot with his field-glass, and was somewhat alarmed to see that the man's information was correct; water was certainly streaming down over the rocky ground, making a course that seemingly would bring it right against the fort wall. "he's going to flood us out!" thought jack. "he must have built an embankment across the new course of the river." this was a manoeuvre which he had not foreseen, and one which it seemed impossible to counter. the water, gathering impetus as it flowed down the hill, would almost infallibly undermine the wall, even if it had not force enough to wash it away altogether. but as he watched, for the moment so much taken aback that he could not think of anything to be done, his consternation was changed to amusement, for about two hundred yards up the hill the water made a swerve to his right, and flowed with increasing rapidity in that direction. the slope was such that, instead of coming straight down as elbel had evidently expected, the stream, finding the easiest course, took at this point a trend to the south-east. after all it would only wash the blockhouse on which jack stood. jack instantly saw what he ought to do. running down to the base of the stockade, he summoned a large body of workers, and set some of them to dismantle the blockhouse, the remainder to pull down the wall and build it up again several feet behind its former position, and in such a way that instead of forming the angle of a square it lay across, making a line parallel with the course of the stream. they had hardly got to work before the full body of water was upon them. but so many men were employed, and they moved so rapidly, that only one or two logs were carried away by the current, the solidly built blockhouse serving as a dam and protecting the workers behind. the main stream fell with a roar over the steep slope on the edge of which the blockhouse stood--a slope only less precipitous than that of the cataract, now a thing of the past, at the opposite corner of the fort. only a few minutes later a tremendous outcry was heard from the direction of elbel's new camp. for a moment it startled jack. had the enemy taken advantage of the sudden flood to organize an attack in force? but the thought had hardly crossed his mind when he burst into laughter, causing his workers to pause and look round in astonishment. "a magnificent idea!" he said to barney. "d'you see what has happened? the silly fellow is flooding his own camp!" "bedad, sorr, that's what comes uv being too clever by half." "it comes of playing with things he knows nothing about. he's tried an engineer's job without experience and without surveying instruments. it's ticklish work interfering with the course of nature, and you never know what will happen if you set water on the run. look at them, barney! 'pon my soul, it's the funniest thing i've ever seen. there's elbel himself, do you see? scampering down the hill like a madman." "like a mad gorilla, sorr." "and all his men after him! by jove! can't they yell! he'll have to shift his quarters again, barney." "and sure i hope all his food is soaked and all his clothes in the wash-tub. a bath will do those greasy niggers no harm." "we'll build up our blockhouse a few yards to the left, and be none the worse. let's go and lend a hand." [1] now. [2] who did it? the master of the house, a most clever person. chapter xxii a message and a meeting ilombekabasi had peace. elbel was sufficiently occupied for a couple of days in constructing a third camp, which he placed still further eastward in the direction of ilola, but still between jack and the main river. and even when the camp was completed he gave no sign of further operations. jack was forced to conclude that his enemy was tired of his continual failures, and would now wait inactive until reinforcements reached him. one afternoon, about a week after the flooding of the camp, a negro was seen running up the gully. shots rang out in the distance, and far down the gully appeared a band of elbel's men, who relinquished the pursuit of the runner on coming within sight of the fort. the man scampered up to the hole in the stockade. he was unarmed save for the universal dagger. he cried out to be admitted; he had a message for the inglesa; and jack ordered him to be hauled up through the aperture. "me nearly lib for dead," he said panting, "me run too fast." "well, who are you, and what do you want?" "me lofembi, sah. me boy massa him uncle." "what!" "yes, sah; me massa martindale boy." "where is he?" cried jack, feeling himself go pale with excitement at the sudden news. "he long long in forest, sah. come up ribber in boat; one man say young massa shut up in ilombekabasi; old massa get out of boat, hide in forest so long for young massa to know. he plenty sick at boma, sah; nearly gone dead. fust small small better, sah! lib for go sick all same; talk small small, sah; no make head straight. he try write; no can hold black stick; he fit for go sleep." "good heavens, barney! poor old uncle!" "sure, the man may be a liar, sorr," said barney. jack gave the man a keen glance. "my uncle tried to write, you say. what did he try to write?" "bonkanda to massa; oh yes! he want say he come; he want know what he fit to do. no want see bad man; no; want to come to ilombekabasi. plenty hard job, 'cos bad man dah." he pointed in the direction of elbel's camp. "if he is so very sick, how did he come from the river into the forest?" "four five men carry him, sah. plenty big lump; oh yes." "why did he send you? where's nando?" "nando lib for sick at leo[1]; no fit to come; him plenty sick; oh yes. me lofembi; me come, do talk for massa. massa gib fing to show young massa; here he am." he produced a gold scarf ring and handed it to jack. "this is my uncle's, sure enough, barney. it's genuine. what on earth can we do? poor old uncle! in his last note he said he was recovering; he must have had a relapse. how can we get him into the fort? we must bring him in somehow. it's awful to think of him lying ill in the forest without any one to look after him; and i am cooped up here!" "send samba to fetch him, sorr." "i can't, barney," said jack after a moment's thought. "samba goes alone safely, but i simply can't trust him to lead a party in, especially as uncle seems to be too bad to move. i can't see any way out of it. if i took some men out myself, and made a dash for it, the enemy would be on our track, and we should have to fight our way in against the whole lot of them. impossible; they outnumber us so greatly." barney was sympathetic, but unable to offer a suggestion. bidding him keep an eye on lofembi, jack went back to his hut to think the matter out by himself. he was torn with anxiety. an unlucky chance might at any moment reveal his uncle's whereabouts, and he knew what mercy mr. martindale might expect if he fell into the hands of elbel. something must be done; yet what? a dozen plans occurred to him, only to be rejected. one thing was clear; whatever was done must be done either by barney or himself. mr. martindale being incapacitated, another white man must lead his party, for the natives, unless properly led, might be seized with panic at the slightest check and bolt. barney he could not send. there was no finesse about him; he was a good fighter, with any amount of pluck, but the very antithesis of a scout. jack felt that he must go himself if his uncle was to have the best chance of getting in. there was no other course that offered the same prospect of success. what were his chances? his sortie against the enemy's camp had been a brilliant success. since then elbel had been practically on the defensive; he was afraid of wasting ammunition; afraid also of leaving any small body unsupported by his main force. during the past week jack's scouts had reported night after night that no pickets had been posted as formerly around the fort, so that, except on the south-east, where elbel's camp was, the neighbourhood was open. he could thus easily steal out at the gate in the northern wall under cover of darkness, and by making a wide detour ought to be able to bring mr. martindale and his party back in safety. yet he had qualms. ought he in any case to leave the fort? supposing he failed, what would happen to the hundreds of people who depended on him? driven by force of circumstances into a life-and-death struggle with elbel's company, he had not ventured to look forward to its ultimate issue. the duty of the moment seemed to be to hold on, to keep the poor negroes out of the clutches of their oppressors, and leave the end with god. could he trust barney to continue his work if he should be removed? ought he to think of it? thus he pondered and puzzled, the arguments for and against chasing one another in a circle through his mind. he had reached no conclusion when barney came to the hut. the good fellow seemed a little uncomfortable; he stood hesitating at the entrance, his readiness of speech having apparently deserted him. "barney, i'm the most miserable fellow alive," said jack, looking up. "all but wan, sorr; all but wan. 'tis the master who is more miserable than you or me, sorr. think uv it; alone in the forest, wid none but black idjuts to wait upon 'm. i've been thinking mighty hard, sorr, and the end uv it is this; 'tis you that must go, sorr. sure i can hold the fort while you are gone." "but what if i never come back, barney?" "'twould be a desp'rate hard case, sorr. but what thin? i'm an irishman, and, bedad! 'twas for hard cases irishmen was born. niver a fear but i'd stick to it, sorr. we've beaten the scuts all along. and if the captain goes, sorr, sure the liftinant takes his place and does his best to fill it dacently. what would have happened if ye had got knocked on the head in that sortie uv yours? do ye think barney o'dowd would have hung out a white rag and surrindered? sorrow a bit! i'd have nailed my colours to the mast, speakin' by the card, and dared the rufn'ns to come and take 'em." "you're a brick, barney!" cried jack, springing up and gripping him by the hand. "i'll go! i'll take samba, this very night, and bring dear old uncle in." "that's right, sorr. and we'll nurse him back to health and strength, and make him colonel uv the reg'mint." "call out those men who captured elbel's camp with me, and place them at the gate to make a dash if they hear firing. and meanwhile you man the wall and hold yourself ready to cover our entry. and, barney, if i'm caught and uncle doesn't come in, hold the fort as long as you can. don't make sorties; simply sit tight. the rainy season will be on us soon, imbono said, and elbel's camp is so badly placed that when the rains come he will be swamped. he may then get tired of the siege and draw off. if he does, i should arrange with the two chiefs for a trek into the forest. but if elbel still presses the siege and food begins to run short--it won't last for ever, you know--you had better choose a dark night and make a dash out to the north-east. if you go quickly you'll get a good many hours' start before elbel realizes what has happened; and when once in the forest you may shake off pursuit. our rifles will form a rearguard." "i'll do all that same, sorr. but i hope it will not be me fate to do it at all. i'd sooner be liftinant for iver, sorr." shortly after nightfall, jack, samba, and lofembi the messenger, made their exit by the hole in the wall. jack had wished to follow his original intention and leave by the northern gate, but lofembi earnestly begged him not to do this, saying that he would not be able to find the way if he did not go out by the same gate that he had entered. at the moment of departure barney gripped jack's hand. "the blessed angels go wid ye, sorr, and bring poor ould master back in safety." "good-bye, barney. hope for the best, and remember--hold the fort." it was slow work moving across the broken hilly country by night; but lofembi had previously pointed out to samba the general direction in which they had to go, and the boy was able to keep a fairly straight course. they had to strike, said lofembi, a path through the forest following the course of the sun. mr. martindale's camp was pitched close to the path, not far from where two large trees had fallen across it. in about an hour they came to the outskirts of the forest in that direction, the course being in the main the same as that taken by jack some weeks previously on his buffalo hunt, but leaving the open country somewhat earlier. so far there had been no sign of the enemy. progress was even slower in the forest itself. more than once lofembi halted in doubt; then after a whispered colloquy with samba he started again, guiding himself by the stars seen through the tree tops. save for these whispered conversations not a word was spoken. jack was too much absorbed in his mission, too anxious about his uncle, to have any inclination to talk, even if the risk of coming upon a scout of elbel's had not been present to his mind. at length the three came upon the narrow track lofembi had been seeking. here they went in indian file, the guide leading, jack coming next, then samba. the path was so narrow and so beset by obstructions that walking was a toil. sometimes lofembi swerved to one side or the other to avoid a prickly bush; sometimes they had to clamber over a fallen tree; more often the path wound round the obstacle. it seemed to jack many hours since they started; in reality it was scarcely more than three before they came upon the two fallen trees. lofembi stopped. "small small now, massa," he whispered. he gave a long low-pitched call. from the blackness on the left came a similar call in reply. the guide moved forward, plunging boldly along a narrow path--more narrow even than that by which they had reached this spot--in the direction of the sound. jack was about to follow him when samba touched him on the arm. "samba go first," said the boy. "no, no," said jack kindly. "we are all right; this is my place, samba." his heart beat faster under the stress of his emotion as he followed lofembi through the tangled undergrowth. how would he find his uncle? was he very ill? surely, surely, he was not in danger--he would not die? beads of sweat broke out upon jack's brow as the terrible possibility occurred to him. he went on almost blindly. three minutes' groping in the darkness brought them to a natural clearing, in which, by the dim light of the stars, jack saw a couple of tents, and, some little distance from them, what appeared to be a number of roughly made grass huts. "dis way, massa," said lofembi, touching jack on the arm. "which one?" said jack in a low tone, "dat one," replied lofembi, pointing to the nearer of the two huts. he stepped forward into the clearing. at the same moment a score of dusky forms rose and closed in stealthily from the undergrowth around. with a little cry samba plucked jack by the sleeve. but almost unconsciously he shook off the detaining hand, so full of anxiety was he. his uncle must be very ill, or he would be standing by the tent to welcome him. he sprang forward, stopped, and raised the flap of the tent. by the light of a small oil lamp swinging from the top he saw a form stretched upon a camp bed. "uncle! uncle!" he cried, falling on his knees by the side of the prostrate figure. a low murmur answered him. at the same moment he heard a sighing groan, as it were, from the entrance to the hut, and the sound of a heavy fall. then the forest glade rang with fierce shouts and the crack of a rifle. jack rose to his feet, confused by this sudden turmoil coming when his nerves were overstrung. as he half turned, a figure came out of the darkness towards him. "good efening, mr. shalloner," said a smooth voice. jack started back. "yes, it is me--guillaume elbel, bien entendu!" [1] leopoldville. chapter xxiii elbel squares accounts jack saw through it all now. elbel had captured his uncle, and used him to decoy from the fort the enemy whom fair fighting and open manoeuvres had failed to dislodge. he could have shot the belgian with his rifle where he stood, but saw in a flash how vain the action would be. outside was a horde of savage natives, who would instantly wreak vengeance on the white men. mr. martindale was too weak to resist, and what he would suffer at their hands was too horrible to be thought of. when elbel had spoken jack turned once more to his uncle, and kneeling down by his bedside clasped his hand. his pressure was returned but feebly. mr. martindale's weakness, coupled with his distress at jack's capture, rendered him unable to speak. "i beg you listen to me," said elbel. "i have a varrant for the arrest of chon martindale, chon shalloner, and a third man, whose name i do not know, on a charge dat dey incite de natives to rebel against de congo free state. i have two of the dree; dat is vell. it vill be for your advantage, to-morrow, to send a written order to de third man to render dat fort on de hill. it vill be for your advantage at de trial. if de fort resist longer, and cause blood to spill, it vill be so much de vorse for you ven you appear before de court in boma." "where is your warrant, mr. elbel?" asked jack. "ah! i have it not viz me; of course, it is in my camp." "i suppose you are going to take us there? you can show it to me when we get there." "no, you meestake. i vill not take you to my camp. i vill send you both at vunce to boma, vere you vill be tried." "but my uncle is not in a condition to travel; you know that." "bah! he vas in condition to travel here; vell, he is in condition to travel back." "but that is preposterous, mr. elbel. are you absolutely inhuman? i find my uncle so ill that he cannot even speak to me. god knows how much his illness is due to you or your friends. at least you will allow him to remain until i can give him some little attention--until he regains a little strength. to do anything else will be nothing less than murder." "dat is not my affair," said elbel with a shrug. "it is instructed me to send you to boma. to boma zerefore muss you go, and at vunce." then, as a thought struck him, he added, "though truly i will vait vun day, two days perhaps, if you give command to de man in de fort to render himself." "never!" came in a fierce whisper from the bed. mr. martindale had gathered his little strength for jack's sake. "never! we will make no terms with you. what my nephew has done he has done merely in self-defence against the acts, the illegal acts, of you and your freebooters. i am an american citizen; he is a british subject; as you, yes, and your free state, will find to your cost." he spoke in feeble gasps, yet with an energy that spoke of an unconquerable spirit. the exertion exhausted him, and he fell back on the bed from which he had half risen. "bah! fine vords!" said elbel. "ver' fine vords, monsieur. you say you are american--you dink dat frighten me! vy, i laugh. vat good is de american or de english in de congo free state? ve mock of dem. ve have our own vays to deal viz such canaille. you vill not send order to de fort? ver' vell; i do vizout." "your warrant won't hold in any case. no one can order the arrest of a man unnamed." "you zink so? ver' vell, it does not matter. you vill have opportunity to zink about my vords as you promenade yourselves to boma. so i vish you bonsoir. to attempt to escape, i tell you it is impossible. you see dat? you hab revolver, mr. shalloner. be so kind to gif me dat." jack hesitated. but he saw that resistance was useless, and handed over the weapon. "danks. in de morning you vill begin your promenade to boma. au revoir, messieurs; au revoir monsieur chon shalloner!" he left the tent. the interview had been too much for mr. martindale. he lay half unconscious, and was scarcely roused when elbel, in a couple of minutes, returned in a towering rage. "you, chon shalloner!" he shouted. "you make de natives to rebel, and more, you make dem to do murder. dat man, who i sent to the fort, he lie now outside, a dead man. some vun dat come viz you he stab him in de back. you english hombog, i teach you. dey shall know of dis in boma." jack did not condescend to answer him, and elbel flung out of the tent. if his messenger was dead, he had paid the penalty of his treachery. jack could only pity the poor wretch for meeting with such an end in such a service. no doubt it was samba's doing. jack remembered now the groan and the fall outside. had samba escaped? he was anxious on the boy's behalf, but it was impossible to ascertain what had happened to him. from elbel's manner and words he inferred that samba was safe. and as for elbel's indignation at the deed jack was not impressed by it. when he thought of the murders and maimings this man was answerable for, he could find no blame for the faithful boy who had punished as his instincts taught him, the spy who had betrayed his master. jack was left alone with his uncle. he looked vainly round the tent for a restorative--a drug, a flask of brandy, even a cup of water. there was nothing. he bent over the still form, and touching the brow, gently, felt it burning with the heat of fever. he knew that his uncle was accustomed to keep a small phial of quinine pills in his waistcoat pocket, and searching for that he found it and persuaded the sick man to swallow a little of the medicine. then he sat on the foot of the bed, not knowing what to do. how fully his forebodings had been justified! it had been a mistake to leave the fort. and yet he could not rue it, for otherwise he might never have seen his uncle again. he looked at the face with the half-closed eyes; how thin it was! how pale! the ruddy hue, the rounded shape of health, were gone. where was that bright twinkling eye that looked so shrewdly out from beneath a shaggy brow? what sufferings he must have undergone! at that moment jack looked over the past months to the day when he so light-heartedly bade his uncle good-bye, and so cheerfully accepted the charge laid upon him. how he wished they had never been parted! and then another thought drove out his regret. but for this parting ilombekabasi would never have been, and several hundreds of poor black people would almost certainly have been tortured, mutilated, done to death, in the name of law. could he have done otherwise than he had done? had providence, moving in mysterious ways, arranged all this--that one should suffer for the sake of many? he did not know; he could not think; his mind seemed to be wrapt in a cloud of mist, through which he saw nothing but the present fact--that his uncle lay before him, sick--perhaps unto death. by and by a negro entered, bearing food and palm wine. mr. martindale could not eat, but the wine revived him. "jack, old boy!" jack knelt by the bedside, clasping his uncle's hand. "jack, i must tell you what happened." "don't, uncle; you will distress yourself." "no, i shall do myself no harm. if you will be patient--for i shall be slow--a little at a time, jack. you must know. i've got pretty nearly to the end of my tether, dear boy. i shan't live to do anything for these poor niggers, but you will--you will, jack. and i want you to vow here, at this moment, to do what i must leave undone--fight the congo state, jack, fight leopold, with your hands, your tongue, your pen, here, in europe, in america; fight him in the name of humanity and of god. promise me that, jack, so that if i do not live till the morning i shall at least die happy." "god helping me, uncle, i will." mr. martindale pressed his hand. for some time there was silence, then the elder man began again. "i must try to speak calmly, my boy; i have so little strength; but it is hard. i told you in my first letter of what i had learnt about the ways of the congo state. you wondered, i dare say, why i never mentioned them again. you will understand why. when i got to boma, i reported to the governor-general, in a written memorial, the incidents that occurred as we went up the river--the altercation with elbel, the attempt on our canoes, the night attack on our camp, frustrated by samba. (i can't tell you how glad i was, jack, when you told me the boy had returned to you.) i forestalled the probable answer that elbel had nothing to do with those attempts by pointing out that the negroes samba saw were fully armed, and must have been under a white man's control. even then it was illegal, for i found that men in elbel's position, representing concessions, are not entitled to take more than five riflemen as escort beyond the limits of their trading factories. in my memorial i said that, after these attacks on me, i should be forced in self-defence to arm a certain number of my followers, and i disclaimed responsibility for the consequences. i also reported the scene of desolation at banonga, and the story i had heard from samba's lips; and called upon the governor-general to take instant action in the matter." jack moistened his uncle's lips, and he continued: "i got an acknowledgment, polite enough, even pleasant, promising that these matters should be inquired into. the governor-general added that the possession of firearms and the arming of the natives being prohibited by law, i should become liable to heavy penalties and imprisonment if the law was broken. i had luckily already sent you the rifles and ammunition; though had i not done so, i could easily have bribed an official to give me a permit to carry arms; it would have cost me five hundred francs for the licence, and as much as i chose for the bribe. "for a week i heard no more. i was deceived by the politeness of the governor-general's letter into believing that i was perfectly safe, and free to do, in this free state, what i had come to do. i set about my business, and, as i told you, bought a little machinery, from a fellow named schwab, agent for a düsseldorf firm. but i was a marked man. one day an officer came and asked me to show my patent. i did so. the man complained that it was not properly filled up; my name was spelled with an 'e' instead of an 'i'--martendale! i laughed at him, and he went away in a huff. next day another fellow came and said that my patent was worthless. since it had been granted a new arrangement had been entered into between the concession and the state, and all the mineral rights in the district reverted to the state. i laughed at that; a patent granted by the concession and authorized by the state could not be revoked; it had five years to run, and i meant to stick to it. they wanted to bluff me--an american!--out of it. "but things began to go badly with me. i was practically boycotted, jack. none of the storekeepers would supply me with anything i wanted. one of them frankly told me that to do so was as much as his life was worth. i did not believe him at first. but i found it was only too true. a storekeeper in boma i heard of--a british subject, jack, from the gold coast--had a part in showing up the rascality of some legal proceedings that had recently taken place. the officials gave the word. he was boycotted; his trade dwindled; he became bankrupt; one of his sons was driven mad by the persecution he suffered; and his troubles and worries so preyed upon the old man's mind that he took his own life. "then i fell ill. it was a near touch, jack. only the devotion of a fellow-countryman--a fine fellow from milwaukee--saved my life. remember his name, jack--theodore canrehan; if you ever meet him, and can do him a good turn, do it for my sake. when i got on my feet again, i was amazed to find the tune changed. everybody was as sweet as butter. the officers came and apologized to me; they regretted the unfortunate misunderstandings that had arisen; they would do all in their power to forward my business. i arranged for the dispatch of the machinery i had ordered from europe, and started to return. i couldn't make out what had made them suddenly so attentive; thought it was because i was an american, and they had some respect for the stars and stripes after all. canrehan told me that since i sailed a strong feeling had been growing in america with regard to the congo question; and i flattered myself the state authorities weren't anxious to add fuel to the flames by provoking a real serious grievance in which an american was concerned. but it was all a trap, jack--all a trap. i saw it too late--too late." hitherto mr. martindale had spoken slowly and calmly, husbanding his strength. but at this point his feeling overcame him. "don't talk any more now, uncle," said jack, fearing that the exertion would be too much for him. "tell me the rest another time. try to sleep. i will watch over you. thank god i shall be with you in the journey to boma. you'll pull through even now, and we shall be able to fight together." mr. martindale had already fallen into a doze. jack did his best to make his bed more comfortable, and watched him through the night, pacing round the tent for hours together to keep himself awake. from time to time his thoughts went back to the fort. what was barney doing? what would he do when morning came and yet the absent had not returned? what would be the fate of the poor people committed to his charge? at present all was dark to jack. it seemed that he and all connected with him were now in the fell grip of the congo state. as soon as it was light elbel came into the tent. "i hope you had good night," he said, with a grin. "you vill have breakfast, den you vill begin your promenade. tventy-five askari vill escort you. you vill go to de river vere mr. martindale left his canoes; dey are still dere. ah! he did hide dem, but vat good? you vill go on canoes till you come to de falls; dere you vill for a time voyage overland. by and by you come to stanleyville; dere you find steamer; de state officers vill have care of you de rest of de vay to boma. you understan'?" "i warn you, mr. elbel, that i shall hold you responsible for my uncle's safety down the river. you see for yourself he is not fit to travel. i shall take the earliest opportunity of informing the american government of your actions--your persecution, for it is no less." "dat is all right," returned elbel, grinning again. "de courts at boma vill give immediate attention. de judges, dey are excellent. now still vunce before you go, write de order to de vite man in your fort to render himself. it vill profit you." "never!" said jack. "go and execute your warrant." "ver' vell, ver' vell. it matters noding. in a half-hour de askari vill be here. you be ready." jack managed to get his uncle to eat a little food. he seemed somewhat stronger and less feverish than on the preceding evening. at seven o'clock the twenty-five soldiers appeared, accompanied by eight men as carriers. mr. martindale recognized these as belonging to the party he had brought up the river; the rest of his men, he supposed, had been impressed by elbel for service in his camp. it being obvious that the sick man was unable to walk, a litter had been constructed for him. he was placed on this. four men were told off to carry it, the other four bearing food sufficient to last the whole party until they reached the canoes. jack had wondered whether he was to be manacled; but the prestige of the white man, not any consideration for his feelings, had prevented elbel from going to such extremes. but as he stood behind his uncle's litter, two askari with loaded rifles placed themselves one on each side of him. when the party were ready to start, elbel sauntered up, his hands behind his back, and, approaching jack, said with a smile: "now, mr. shalloner, before ve part i have a little vat you call reckoning viz you. you strike me vunce, tvice, viz your feest. dat is de english vay--de boxe, hein?" elbel showed his teeth. "on de congo ve have anoder vay--de chicotte. vun does not soil vun's hands. so!" he took from behind his back a hippopotamus-hide whip, and, cutting short so as to avoid the askari close beside jack, dealt him two cuts with his utmost strength. jack clenched his teeth to stifle a cry as the edges of the thong cut through his thin clothes. "dere! now are ve quits!" as he spoke jack, blazing with anger and mortification, made a fierce spring at him. but elbel was ready: he jumped nimbly backwards, while half a dozen askari rushed between them, and pinioned jack's arms. honour was satisfied--so elbel appeared to think, for with a grin of malicious triumph he nodded to the askari in charge: the party might now proceed. "you see," said elbel, as they moved away, "if you try to escape you vill be shot. i vish you agreeable promenade." chapter xxiv a solemn charge the party set off. they marched all day, with brief intervals for food and rest. jack was only allowed to speak to his uncle during these pauses. the sick man lay inert, with closed eyes, protected from the heat by a light covering of grass, which his bearers made and fixed above his litter. jack watched him anxiously. he seemed no worse when they arrived at the river just before sunset. mr. martindale had brought up four canoes; two of these had already been appropriated by elbel and conveyed up the river; the other two remained. they passed the night on the canoes, and in the small hours, when the natives were asleep, mr. martindale insisted on continuing the story broken off the night before. "better now, dear boy," he said, when jack implored him to wait until he was stronger. "i shall never see boma; elbel knows that. he knows that in this climate a sick man cannot survive a journey of over a thousand miles. i want you to understand clearly before i go what these officials are doing. they call it the free state!--free! no one is free but the officials! the natives, poor wretches! are not free. never, when slavery was an institution, were there slaves in such abject misery as these slaves of the congo. why, they made a great to-do about slavery in my country fifty years ago, and some of the pictures in uncle tom's cabin were lurid enough. but the american slave's life was paradise compared with this hell upon earth. trade on the congo was to be free. is there any such freedom? look at my case. they give me a patent to work minerals; they let me make my prospecting trip; then when i have located the gold and ordered my machinery they revoke my patent. i make the loaf, they eat it. oh! it was all planned from the beginning. we have been fooled right through, jack." "but what of their courts, uncle? surely there is some redress for injustice." "their courts! they're all of a piece, jack. the state grants a concession to a trading company. half the time the state _is_ the trading company; it takes up the larger portion of the shares. the congo free state is nothing but a big commercial speculation, and the courts dare not do anything that conflicts with its interests. men come here, belgians, germans, italians, good fellows some, honest, well-meaning; but they haven't been here long before they have to swim with the current, or throw up their careers. one poor fellow, a district judge, ventured to protest against an illegal sentence passed by a court-martial; he was broken, and hounded out of the country. in a sense he was lucky, for it is easier for such a man to get into this country than to get out of it--alive! a man who does justice and loves righteousness has no place in the congo free state. "you see now why they let me go. they let me make what arrangements i pleased--engage a large party, buy a large quantity of stores; well knowing that at any moment of my journey they could arrest me and plunder my goods. and they knew of your doings up here, be sure of that. they intended to let me get into the neighbourhood of your fort and use me to decoy you out. they've done it. oh! it was all planned in boma. neither you nor i will ever reach boma if elbel and the officials have their way. elbel's suggestion of delaying so that we could get barney to surrender the fort was all a part of the trick; it would make no difference to our treatment, and it would be the death-warrant of those poor negroes. jack, i approve of all that you have done--approve with all my heart. i am proud of you, dear boy. what does it matter that i've lost my money, and my gold mine, and very likely my life too! i am thankful to almighty god that we came to this country, glad that he has put it into our power to do some little good. i wouldn't undo any of it; i am proud that one of my blood has been called to this good work. jack, providence has made us responsible for the poor negroes who have trusted their lives to us. do you remember i said at banonga that i wasn't a philanthropist and wasn't set on starting a crusade? i spoke lightly, my boy. i would say now that if god spared my life i would spend all my strength and all my energy in a nobler work than ever mediæval crusader undertook. i shall not live to do it; but i leave it to you. were this my last breath i would say, help the negroes of the congo, fight the corrupt government that enriches itself on their blood; go to the fountain-head and expose the hypocrisy of king leopold." "he may not know of it, uncle. so far away he cannot check and control all the actions of his agents." "not know of it! how can he help knowing of it? are not these things happening every day? and it is his business to know of it. suppose i had a factory in the united states, and it was proved that while i was coining millions my hands were dying of overwork, or of insanitary buildings, or getting wages insufficient to keep them decently clothed and fed; wouldn't there be an outcry? wouldn't the law step in, or if the law failed, public opinion? where does leopold get his dollars from? who pays for the estates he is buying, the palace he is building, the fine public works he is presenting to belgium? it is these poor black people. he is draining the life-blood out of the country he vowed before almighty god to rule justly and administer wisely for the good of the people; and the cries and groans of these negroes, men like himself, are rising to heaven, terrible witnesses of his broken vows, his callousness, his selfish apathy. oh! i grant him good intentions to begin with. twenty years ago he did not foresee all this; no man is a villain all at once! but it might have been foreseen. he was king of a few hundred miles of country; with a stroke of the pen he became sovereign of a state as big as europe; and if a man has the passion for getting, unlimited opportunities of doing so will bring him to any villainy unless he has the grace of god in him." jack was deeply moved by his uncle's earnestness. at the same time he was concerned to see the exhaustion that followed his passionate speech. he gave him a little wine, imploring him to spare himself. "don't trouble, dear boy," said mr. martindale with a smile. "the fire is burning out; what does it matter if it burns a little more quickly? but i won't distress you; you will think over my words when i am gone." in the morning the river journey was begun. it continued for several days, until with their arrival at the falls progress by water was interrupted, and a long portage had to be made. it was just at this point that they met a party of askari marching in the other direction. as soon as they came in sight the leader of jack's escort cried-"o etswa?"[1] "o!" replied the leader of the approaching band. "where are you going?" "to the camp of elobela." "what have you got in those bundles?" "cartridges for elobela's guns." "bolotsi o! he will be glad of them. he has very few left." "has he killed many people?" "no. but lokolobolo captured nearly all his cartridges." "mongo! who is lokolobolo?" "here he is! an inglesa who has built a fort and fights elobela. but we have got him at last, and he goes with an old inglesa to boma. oh! he will fight no more." "o kend'o?" "o!" during the river journey mr. martindale had grown steadily weaker. he fought hard against his illness; he had a new motive for desiring life; and jack, observing his occasional rallies, hoped still that he would pull through. but he was so weak when lifted from the canoe that he fainted, and jack feared that he would not survive the day. he rallied again, and once more jack had a gleam of hope. the horrors of that overland march will haunt jack's memory till he dies. for some time the askari had been ill-using the carriers. the greater part of the stores which mr. martindale had taken up the river had been appropriated by elbel, and the food left in the canoes was not sufficient for full meals for the whole party. it was the carriers who went short. they had to bear the burdens, to make frequent journeys to and fro up the steep river banks, while the askari looked on and had the best of the food. when the portage was begun, one of the canoes was added to their load. the other was left hidden in the bush to be fetched later. weak from lack of proper nourishment, they could go but slowly, and jack's blood boiled as he saw them quiver, heard them shriek, under the merciless chicotte. before the first day was ended, two of the men fell, worn out with hunger and fatigue. jack heard shots behind him, and saw that the wretched men had been put out of their misery. on the second day another man succumbed; what little life was left in him was beaten out with the clubbed rifles of the askari. three men ran away during the night, preferring the perils of the forest to the certain fate that awaited them at the hands of their fellow-men. only two carriers were now left, and since these were useless they were shot in cold blood. jack's heart was like a stone within him. these atrocities recalled the worst horrors of the old arab slave-raiding days; and he was unable to lift a hand to oppose them. if he had been the only white man with the party he felt that he would have risked anything in an effort to save the poor wretches; but while his uncle still lived he could do nothing that might involve his own death. the bearers being all gone, the askari had to take turns themselves in carrying the canoe, the remainder of their provisions, and mr. martindale's litter. this necessity did not improve their temper or their manners, and the litter-bearers went so carelessly over the rough ground that jack was constrained to protest. he implored, he threatened, feeling that the only chance for his uncle was to make more frequent halts; the fatigue of constant travelling would certainly kill him. but the askari roughly replied that they had orders to continue their journey without delay, and the march was resumed. after his protest jack was forced to walk at a distance from the litter, and even when the caravan halted for food he was not allowed to attend his uncle. sick at heart he plodded on, torn by his anxieties, yet still nourishing a hope that when they arrived at a station where a doctor might be found, and whence the journey would be continued by steamer, all might yet be well. but one evening, when the halt was made, he heard his uncle faintly calling. the sound of his voice struck a chill through him. in desperation, snatching a rifle from the guard next him, he threatened to shoot any one who tried to keep him from the dying man. "it's all up with me, old boy," said mr. martindale feebly, when jack knelt by his litter. "elbel is having his way. i shan't see another morning." jack gripped his hands; they were chill and clammy. a lump came into his throat; he could not speak the yearning affection that filled his heart. "bend down, jack; i'm afraid i cannot make you hear. remember--remember what i have said; it is my bequest to you--the cause of the congo natives. do what you can for them. fight! it is called the free state; fight to make it free. i cannot see the future; all is dark; i dread what may await you in boma. but buck up, dear fellow. barney--remember him. go to the british consul; tell him all. your people have generous sympathies; wake them up; wake them up! if they are roused, all this wrong will come to an end." "i will do all i can, uncle," murmured jack. "don't mourn overlong for me. i've had a good time. and this year the best of all. i wouldn't lose it, jack. tell my friends i'm not sorry; i'm glad, glad to have seen with my own eyes something that's worth doing. and i have faith in the future--in my fellow-men, in god. what is it about wicked doers? 'they encourage themselves in mischief, and commune how they may lay snares; they imagine wickedness and practise it. but god shall suddenly shoot at them with a swift arrow; yea, their own tongues shall make them fall.' how does it go on? i cannot remember. 'the righteous shall rejoice----.' jack, are you there?" "yes, uncle, i am here," replied jack, tightening his clasp. "is it the fifteenth psalm? 'he that walketh uprightly----' i cannot remember, jack.--is that boy samba better? poor little chap! no father and mother!--barnard said there was gold; why can't he find it?--no, that's not a nugget, that's--- only a dog, eh? i'm kind o' set on dogs...." and so he rambled on, muttering incoherently in his delirium; and jack did not stir, but remained cramped while the slow hours crawled on, and nocturnal insects hummed, and frogs croaked, and the leaves faintly rustled above him. then, as the dawn was creeping up the sky, mr. martindale opened his eyes. they rested on jack's pale drawn face, and the dying man smiled. "buck up!" he whispered. "remember! 'though i walk through the valley of the shadow....'" and so he died. [1] are you awake? (the morning greeting) chapter xxv a break for liberty with his own hands jack dug a grave near the brink of the river, and there he laid his uncle to rest. the askari looked on stolidly as he gathered stones from below the bank and heaped them to form a low rude cairn. then he went back with them to their camping-place. he could not touch the food they offered him, and when they told him the time was come to march he got up silently and moved away mechanically with the rest. he trudged on among his captors, a prey to utter dejection, conscious of nothing but his irreparable loss. he saw nothing, heard nothing, of what was going on around him, walking automatically in a kind of stupor. his uncle was dead!--for the moment the world had for him no other fact. by degrees, as his first dazed feeling passed away, he recalled little incidents in his past life that till then had lain dormant in his memory. he remembered the first time he had consciously seen his uncle, when he was a child of four, and he was dragged in all grubby from the garden, face and hands stained with strawberry juice, to see a big man with a red face, who laughed at him, and showed him a rough yellow lump that he wore on his watch-chain. he remembered the letter when his father died; and that other letter when his mother died; and the first visit to school, when, shown into the headmaster's study, the headmaster being absent, mr. martindale had made friends of the dog, and was found by the great man in the act of balancing a pen on the animal's nose. he remembered too the delightful holidays, climbing in switzerland, roaming in normandy, gondoliering in venice. odd things came to his recollection, and there was not one of them but recalled some trait of character, reminded him of some past happiness. then as he walked his grief took on a new complexion--a longing for vengeance on the miscreant whom he regarded as directly responsible for his uncle's death--morally as culpable as if he had with his own hands committed the murder. was this villain to remain unpunished? the thought of elbel induced a new change of feeling. what of the natives who for so many months had looked to him for guidance and leadership? what was barney doing? had samba escaped the clutches of his enemy and got back to the fort? was the fort, indeed, still there? he remembered his promise to his uncle. at the most solemn moment of his life, under the very shadow of death, he had vowed to do all in his power to help the negroes of the congo--and here he was, himself a prisoner among soldiers of this iniquitous government, on his way to an unknown fate. thus recalled to actuality, he roused himself and began to think. he had no longer his uncle to consider; that good man was beyond reach of chicanery and spite. why should he go to boma? nothing good awaited him there. he would be thrown into prison on arrival--supposing he ever arrived; he would be tried, sentenced no doubt: at boma in such cases there were none of the law's delays; he might never be heard of again. what chance was there of fulfilling his uncle's wishes there? was not his place at the fort, at ilombekabasi, with barney and imbono and mboyo, the people for and with whom he had already toiled and fought? there at the fort was tangible good to be done; he felt an overpowering impulse to return to his friends. elbel had been worsted; if the resistance could be still further prolonged surely the belgian would withdraw, though it were only to gather strength for a crushing blow; and the interval might be seized to migrate with the whole community into the forest or across the frontier. but there was the rub. between him and the fort there was a band of well-armed askari and several days' journey by river and forest. even if he escaped the former, what chance was there of success? a white man was very helpless in these african wilds--easily seen and followed, not used to fend for himself in obtaining the necessaries of life. even samba, forest-bred, had barely survived the perils of a solitary journey: how could a white man expect to fare so well? yet, so strong was jack's longing, he resolved that, be the difficulties and dangers what they might, he would seize the barest chance of escape that offered itself. anything would be better than to be carried on to boma, with the terrible uncertainty, not merely regarding his own ultimate fate at the hands of an unscrupulous officialdom and a tainted judicature, but still more as to the fate of his friends at ilombekabasi. from that moment his whole mental attitude changed. he did not forget his grief; that pitiful scene by the river's brink could never be effaced from his mind and heart; but he resolutely set his wits to work to find an avenue of escape, and the mere effort brought relief to his sorrow. no longer was he inattentive to his surroundings. without allowing his guards to suspect him, he was keenly on the alert, watching everything. it was not until the midday meal that accident befriended him. the askari came to a village which had clearly been for some time deserted--another monument, jack supposed, to king leopold's rule. he took refuge from the burning heat, which did not appear to incommode the negroes, in one of the empty and half-ruined huts. there he ate his meal of rancid _kwanga_--all that his guards would allow him. while he squatted on the floor eating, his eye was attracted by a bright light, the reflection of the sun on some polished surface in the wall of the hut. out of sheer curiosity he stepped across, and drew from the interlaced wattles the head of a small axe. its edge was very sharp, as jack found to his cost when he drew his finger across it; and although in parts rusty, it appeared to be of very fine steel, too fine to be of native workmanship. wondering who had been its owner, and how it came to be stuck, separate from its shaft, into the wall of a rough native hut, he slipped it into his pocket; it might prove a weapon of value to an otherwise unarmed man. there was nothing to cause his guards to suspect him when the march was once more resumed. in an hour or two they came to a place below the series of rapids where it was safe to launch the canoe. there the party divided. the carriers being all gone, the canoe left behind could only be fetched by some of the askari; and after some squabbling, ten of them went back, the rest promising to wait for them at a convenient spot down the river. as they paddled away, jack gathered from the talk of his escort, in a dialect which had some slight resemblance to that of the men of banonga, that they expected to arrive at this place, an old camping-ground of theirs by the river, before nightfall. they had placed him in the bow of the canoe, a light one suitable for portage, with no platform, and therefore nothing between him and the water but the thin side. keenly he watched the banks, hoping to be able at a favourable moment to turn his observations to account. but except for a few hippos half hidden in the long grass or reeds at the river-side, and here and there a crocodile basking on a rock or sandbank, its scaly back scarcely distinguishable from the soil, the river was deserted. forest lined the banks on both sides, its continuity only occasionally broken by clearings showing signs of burnt villages. the trees were beginning to throw long shadows over the water; sunset must be fast approaching; still no means of escape had suggested itself. yet escape, if effected at all, must be effected soon, for he did not know when, with his transference to a steamer, his immediate fate would be sealed. should he risk all, spring overboard, and swim for the bank? he was tempted to do so, though he could not repress a shudder as he thought of the crocodiles now beginning to wake from their afternoon nap. but he knew that as soon as he came to the surface he would be overhauled in two or three strokes of the paddles, even if the paddlers did not think his attempt to escape sufficient justification for a little albini practice. in any case his death or capture could be a matter of only a few minutes. but as time passed, jack resolved that he would chance the crocodiles if he could elude his guards. he would run any risk rather than go to boma and submit himself to the tender mercies of the congo state officials. a crocodile, after all, might prove a more merciful enemy! they came to a part of the river where the channel narrowed, and though the fall was not enough to deserve the name of a rapid, the increased velocity of the current and the presence of large rocks necessitated some caution on the part of the paddlers. jack could not help hoping that the canoe would come to grief. in the confusion there might be a bare chance of escape, though, being no more than a fair swimmer, he was not blind to the added risk he would run owing to the strength of the current and the danger of being dashed against the rocks. but the askari, experienced voyageurs, successfully navigated this stretch of the river, and as the canoe shot safely into smoother water jack's hopes again fell. then a thought occurred to him: why wait upon chance? why not make his own opportunity? he felt in his pocket; the axe-head was still there; its edge was sharp. if the canoe did not meet with disaster from without, why not from within? he was sitting on one of the thwarts amidships; the paddlers were standing on the thwarts forward and astern of him. all the askari were paddling except three, and these were squatting, two at the one end of the canoe, one at the other, with their rifles between their knees. in his position jack was almost completely screened from them. the paddlers had their rifles slung over their shoulders; the baggage was equally distributed over the whole length of the canoe. though built of the frailest material, the canoe was of considerable length. this was the one drawback to the plan which had suggested itself to jack--to drive a hole in the craft at any moment when the attention of the crew seemed sufficiently engaged to give him a chance of doing so unobserved, for the size of the canoe rendered it doubtful whether any hole he might make would be large enough to sink the vessel before it could be paddled ashore. this could only be proved by making the attempt. time passed on; no opportunity occurred. the passage here was easy, and the paddlers did their work almost automatically. it needed no attention. jack was almost giving up the idea when a chance suddenly came. he heard the leader of the askari call out: "there is the gorge just ahead: soon we shall be at our camping ground. be steady!" the canoe went faster and faster, and in a few minutes entered a gorge strewn with jagged rocks threatening destruction at every yard. the men stopped singing--they sang at their paddles from morning till night--and shouted with excitement when the vessel escaped as by a miracle being dashed to pieces on one or other of the rocks in mid-stream. choosing the moment when the shouting was loudest and the danger probably greatest, jack stooped down from his thwart and, drawing the axe-head from his pocket, thrust it with all his strength into the side of the canoe near the bottom, where there was already an inch of bilge water. working the steel to and fro, he enlarged the hole as much as he could, and then withdrew his clumsy implement; the water rushed in with a gurgling noise which must, he feared, attract the attention of the paddler just above him. but the man gave no sign; he was too intent upon his task. a few seconds later jack seized another moment of excitement to repeat his work on the other side of the canoe. his heart jumped to his mouth as he heard one of the men shout a word of warning; but he maintained his stooping position, thinking there was less chance of detection than if he suddenly moved. in consequence of the water rising in the bottom the second hole was made somewhat higher than the first; and as jack watched the level of the water gradually creeping up, he felt that the gaps were not large enough to prevent the paddlers from beaching the canoe if they ran into smooth water during the next few minutes. the bark seemed to close up as soon as the axe-head was withdrawn, leaving only as a narrow slit what had been a gaping rent. a glance ahead showed smooth water within a few yards. there might be just time to make two more rapid cuts. he plunged his hand into the water, now some inches deep, and drove the steel with all his force twice into the bottom beneath his feet. as soon as the canoe left the race, the heavy going due to the water that had been shipped would at once be detected, even if none of the paddlers, indeed, should happen to glance down and see the water washing the packages. true, they might suppose that it had come over the sides of the canoe during their recent rough passage; but the mistake must soon be discovered. jack saw that there was little chance of the canoe sinking in midstream. what could he do? was this, apparently his only opportunity, to be lost? he had only a few seconds to decide. he would wait until the leaks were discovered, and the canoe was headed towards the shore. then if he dived into the river his guards would be torn between two impulses--the one to pursue him, the other to beach the canoe before she sank with them and their stores. to them the situation would be complex; they would waste time in their confusion; and with a sinking canoe beneath them they would scarcely be able to use their rifles. things happened almost exactly as jack expected. when the canoe left the troubled reaches one of the askari suddenly caught sight of the water slowly rising, and washing from side to side with every stroke of the paddles. "a leak!" he shouted, inferring that a hole had been knocked in the bottom by a rock. the leader at once cried to the men to run for the right bank. jack's time came as the canoe was swinging round. rising suddenly from his seat, with a vigorous shove he sent the paddler behind him rolling back upon the next man; he in his turn fell upon the next; until four of the paddlers in the after part of the canoe were floundering in the water, and the frail craft rocked almost gunwale under. the other paddlers were so much occupied in adjusting themselves to the difficulty and preventing the canoe from being swamped that they were hardly aware of what their prisoner was doing until it was too late to prevent him. while the vessel was tilted over, jack placed one foot on the side farthest from the bank towards which they were paddling, and dived into the river. the leader of the askari immediately shouted to the men in the water to pursue him, pointing out the direction in which he had disappeared beneath the surface. he was making for the left bank. glancing back when he came up, jack saw that two men were swimming after him, and realized that he was no match for them. he was only a fair swimmer; his pursuers, drawn from one of the riverine villages of the lower congo, were as dexterous in the water as they were in the canoe. when jack became aware that he was being rapidly overhauled, he gripped more tightly the axe-head which he had never let go, resolving to fight to the last rather than suffer recapture. the negroes had divested themselves of their rifles, or had lost these when thrown so suddenly into the river; and even such a clumsy weapon as an axe-head might prove very formidable to unarmed men. in the excitement, jack had forgotten all about the constant peril of the congo--the crocodiles. straining every nerve, he was wondering whether he should stop swimming before he ran the risk of being completely exhausted, since there seemed little chance of his gaining the opposite bank before his pursuers, when he was startled by a despairing scream behind. the horrible meaning of it flashed upon him; he glanced back; only one swimmer was to be seen, and he was no longer coming towards him; he had turned and with frantic haste was making for the nearest point of the bank. the second man had disappeared; the crocodile had proved a better swimmer than any. shuddering in every limb, jack for a moment felt his strength leaving him. as in a nightmare he seemed to see the horrid jaws of crocodiles all round him waiting to tear him limb from limb. but he recovered in a moment; and, still gripping the axe-head, he struck out desperately for the far bank, which was now, indeed, scarcely more distant than the other. he touched the sandy bottom, struggled panting up the bank, and, completely exhausted by the physical and mental strain of this day's events, crawled rather than walked to a spot where he felt himself secure at least from the dreaded reptile. for several minutes he lay with his head upon his arms, so much spent as to be almost careless of what might become of him. but, rousing himself at length, he rose and scanned the river for signs of his late escort. what was his alarm to see them hastening towards him from the opposite bank; three minutes' hard paddling would bring them within reach of him. the sight of them woke jack fully to his danger; he turned his back on the river and plunged into the thick bushes that came almost to the water's edge, and extended into, the forest behind. with what marvellous quickness, he thought, had the askari brought their waterlogged vessel to the bank, emptied her of water, and temporarily stopped the leaks! no doubt they had been spurred to their utmost effort by the knowledge of what awaited them if they returned to their commander with the report that the prisoner had escaped them by any means but death. it was now late in the afternoon. within three or four minutes the pursuers would have beached the canoe and dashed in pursuit. jack knew that he must make the most of his few minutes' start. if he could evade them for an hour he would be concealed by the darkness. already, indeed, it was dim and dusky in the forest shades he had now entered. there was no path; he could but plunge on where the undergrowth seemed thinnest, his general direction being as nearly as he could judge at an obtuse angle with the stream. the askari would expect him either to follow the river, or to strike directly inland; at least he hoped that the diagonal between these two courses would not occur to them. while daylight lasted his trail would betray him, of course; but even if the men were trained forest trackers the light would in a few minutes be too bad for them to pick up his trail. in a few minutes he heard muffled shouts behind him. the pursuers had landed. then all was silent, save for the forest sounds now familiar to him. he moved as cautiously as the necessity for haste permitted, aware that the breaking of a twig, a stumble, any unusual sound, might bring his quick-eared enemy upon his track. but with all his care he could not avoid accidents. here a branch of cactus would rip a great rent in his thin linen coat, with a sound that set the teeth on edge. there a low-growing creeper would trip him up, so that he fell with a crash headlong, and rose with his face bleeding from a dozen deep scratches. but he kept the axe-head always in his grasp; that was his only defence. the fall of night found him still pressing resolutely forward; but when he could no longer see to thread his way in the close tangle of vegetation he halted, and became aware that he was dripping wet, and that he had to spend the night, soaked as he was, without shelter in the primeval forest. it would not have been a pleasant prospect even to a native inured to forest travel; the negroes indeed are careful not to be benighted far from their villages. in other circumstances, as black darkness wrapt him round, jack might have felt not a few tremors; from samba he had learnt something of the perils of night in densely-wooded places. but he had lately passed through experiences so trying that the visionary terrors of these gloomy depths had no power to trouble him. he sought, however, a suitable tree and climbed out of the reach of prowling beasts, hoping that he would also escape the attentions of leopards and pythons, which made no account of the lower branches. he had never spent a more uncomfortable night. insects stung him; caterpillars crawled over him; woodlice worried him. dozing in spite of these annoyances, he would wake with a start and the nightmare feeling that he was falling, falling helplessly through space. his wet clothes stuck clammily to his skin; he shivered as with ague, his teeth chattered, his head was racked with pain. stiff and sore from his narrow perch and his cramped position he clung on through the night; and when, after the long darkness, the pale dawn at last stole through the foliage, and he dropped to the ground, he moved like an old man, with aching limbs, unrefreshed, feeling the want of food, yet utterly without appetite. but he must go on. his enemies had not discovered him; no beast had attacked him; these were positive gains. he could make no plans; all that he could do was to follow a course calculated by the sun to take him in the direction of the river, going up stream. he walked stiffly, but steadily, during the morning, picking here and there handfuls of phrynia berries--the only berries of the forest which he knew to be edible. about midday he resolved to risk a more direct course to the river, in the hope that his pursuers, finding no trace of him, had given up the hunt. but it was easier to decide than to carry out. for all he knew he might have been wandering in a circle, and the windings of the river might make every step he took one in the wrong direction. after some hesitation he turned somewhat to the left and trudged on, so intent upon his immediate surroundings that his range of vision was restricted to a few yards. he noticed that the ground, as he walked, was becoming a little less thickly covered with undergrowth; but it was with a shock of alarm that, at a sudden lifting of the eyes, he saw, standing in front of him, a young straight dusky figure armed with a long rifle. springing instinctively behind the nearest tree, he grasped the axe-head ready to do battle. but what was this? a voice spoke to him, a voice that he knew, giving him pleasant salutation, calling him by name. "lokolobolo losako[1]!" he came from behind the tree and went forward, stretching forth his hands. "samba!" he cried joyously. [1] salutation addressed to a superior. chapter xxvi turning the tables samba at once led the way in a different direction from that lately followed by jack, saying that he would explain his presence as they went along. jack had hardly reached the tent to which he had been decoyed by elbel's messenger before samba knew that his uneasy feeling was justified; his master had fallen into a trap. stealing up close behind lofembi he had plunged his knife into the man's back, and dashed into the forest. he had no difficulty in escaping from the spot; but the report of the rifle fired after him had reached elbel's camp below the fort, and samba found that he had to make a very wide detour to avoid the enemy's scouts. but he managed at last to get into the fort, and implored barney to send out a party to rescue his captain. barney was much distressed by the news, but resolutely refused to throw away lives and risk the safety of the fort in a forlorn hope of that kind. all that he would do was to allow samba, with three other men, makoko, lianza, and lingombela, to follow up mr. martindale and jack, and rescue them if any chance occurred; if not, to see what became of them. but the four had great difficulty in getting out of the fort undetected; the enemy's vigilance appeared to be doubled, and a full day elapsed before they were able to set off in the track of the prisoners. failing to overtake the party in the forest before they embarked on the canoes, they had had to cover on foot the long distance for which the askari were able to use the river, though they shortened the journey to some extent by cutting straight across country when the river wound. at last, when samba had all but given up hope, they saw a party of ten askari coming towards them from down the river. samba did not suspect at first that these men were connected with those he sought. but keeping well out of sight he tracked them to a spot where a canoe was concealed, and then he guessed at once that the men had been sent back to fetch a canoe left behind for want of sufficient carriers. it would be easy to keep ahead of this party, burdened as they were with the vessel; so samba and his three companions pushed on, and soon came upon tracks of mr. martindale and jack. they had noticed the newly-made grave with its stone cairn: it had puzzled them, and they did not know it was a grave until samba pointed out that the litter had ceased to be used: there were no longer the marks of four men walking always at the same distance apart; they then concluded that the elder inglesa had died. they came by and by to the place where the party had re-embarked. samba's only hope of overtaking them now was that they would certainly wait at some part of their journey until they were caught up by the other canoe; and it seemed to him that his expectation was borne out when, scouting ahead of the three, he sighted in the dusk a long canoe lying under the opposite bank in charge of three askari. he ran back to his companions and told them to hide in the bush; then he returned to the spot, and from a safe concealment prepared to wait and watch. night fell: the river was too broad for him to see across it; but presently he heard the sound of men approaching the canoe, and soon afterwards voices. then all was silent. he kept up his watch for some time, half expecting to hear the sound of paddles; but concluding from the continued silence that the men would not move till the morning, he went to sleep in a tree. waking before dawn, he resumed his watch. in the early morning he saw eleven men land and make off in two parties into the forest, leaving three men on guard. instantly he jumped to the conclusion that lokolobolo had escaped; and a daring scheme suggested itself to him. returning to his friends, he told them what he had seen, and what he proposed. the four immediately set about building a light raft of bamboos and cane "tie," and when it was finished they carried it some distance along the bank launched it out of sight of the men in charge of the canoe' and punted themselves across to the other side. an hour later only one man remained in the enemy's canoe, and he was a prisoner. jack forbore to inquire what had become of the others; samba merely said that their ammunition had been spoilt by the water. samba and his companions were congo natives; free from the restraining influence of the white man, it would be scarcely surprising if they took the opportunity of paying off some of the wrongs they had suffered at the hands of the askari. from the prisoner samba learnt the whole history of the party since the time it left elbel in the forest. tying the man up, samba and his companions at once set to work to find the trail of the fugitive, and of the men who had gone in pursuit. in the morning light it was easy to a practised scout like samba to find what he sought. he soon discovered that the two parties of askari had failed to track their quarry, and were going haphazard through the forest. he himself then started to follow jack up, and his three companions went forth to the canoe to await the return of the enemy. it was unlikely that the two bands would appear at the same time. if they returned separately, the three scouts in ambush would only have to deal with six men or five men, as the case might be. they were still waiting. what would they do, asked jack, when the enemy came back? "fire upon them from behind the trees," replied samba. "three men will certainly be killed; are not the scouts makoko, lianza, and lingombela, three of the best marksmen in ilombekabasi? if the two or the three men left do not run away, they will fight them. if they run away, they will follow them up and fire at them from behind trees." even as samba spoke there came through the trees a sound as of distant firing. samba quickened his steps; for an hour or more his master and he plunged through the forest, the boy halting every now and then to listen intently. at length whispering "nkakayoko!"[1] he laid his hand on jack's sleeve and gave a low call like the rough scratching sound of a forest beetle. it was answered from the right hand. striking off sharply in that direction he led the way through a thin copse, and in a few moments the two stood at the brink of the river beside the canoe. samba looked keenly around, whispered "mpiko!"[2] and pointed to a low bushy tree close at hand. for a second or two jack could see nothing but green: but then through the dense foliage he caught the glint of a rifle barrel, and behind it--yes, a black face. the man came out with a low chuckle of amusement. it was makoko. "bolotsi o!" he said. his forest craft had been too much for lokolobolo. suddenly samba held up his hand in warning. they listened; it must have been the flight of a forest bird. "what was the firing?" asked samba in a low voice. "the killing of five men," replied makoko. jack caught the last words, "bant'atanu!" and started. "where are they?" he asked. "gone to feed the crocodiles. three first, then two." again samba raised his hand. all listened intently. jack heard nothing; but samba whispered, "they come!" and plucked him by the sleeve. all three hid among the trees. two men came out from the other side--they were lianza and lingombela. "they are coming--six men," said lianza in answer to samba's question. "quickly! they heard the shots." "we must shoot again from behind the trees," said samba. but jack could not bear the idea of shooting down the unsuspecting wretches in cold blood. "perhaps we can make them surrender," he whispered. "lako! lako!" said the negroes indignantly. "yes; we will try." makoko and the other two men grumbled, but samba silenced them. "it is lokolobolo's order," he said. he offered jack his mauser, but jack refused it with a smile, taking one of the albinis which had been removed from the canoe. with the four he concealed himself behind the bushes. he had already noticed that all traces of the recent incidents had been carefully obliterated. a few minutes later six askari came from the thick wall of bush. they started and looked at one another when they saw the canoe unguarded. then they called their comrades. receiving no answer, they began to discuss the strange disappearance of the three men who had been left in charge. with a sign to samba to follow him, jack came out from behind his bush. the men ceased their chatter; their jaws dropped, they stared at their late captive in blank amazement. he spoke to them quietly, samba translating. "i was hiding: i come to save you from being killed. your eight comrades are already dead. if one of you lifts his hand, he is a dead man. behind the bushes my men wait ready to shoot you. listen! they will answer when i call. you will see how hopeless it is to resist. makoko!" "em'one!" "lingombela!" "em'one!" "lianza!" "em'one!" "lay down your rifles," continued jack, "and beg for mercy." there was but a moment's hesitation, then one of the men sullenly obeyed, and the rest, one after another, followed his example. at jack's call the three scouts came from their hiding-place. two of them covered the askari with their rifles, while the third collected the surrendered albinis and placed them in the canoe. how jack's position had altered! an hour or two ago he was a fugitive, practically unarmed, with nearly a score of askari hunting him down. now he was in command of four scouts fully armed, and in possession of a canoe and half a dozen prisoners, who had proved themselves on the journey down to be expert paddlers. but, as samba reminded him, he had still to deal with the ten askari who had been sent back to fetch the second canoe. they must be on their way down stream: perhaps they were near at hand. something must be done with them. to let them pass, or to leave them behind, would be equally unwise; they would almost certainly follow up jack and his party, perhaps find a means of sending word to elbel in time to cut them off from the fort. the safety of himself and his men demanded that this second band should be disposed of. to deal with them as he had dealt with the six would not be easy. they would come by water, not by land. he did not wish to kill them. what other course was open to him? he remembered that the askari had spoken of an old camping-place a little below the spot on which they stood. this had doubtless been fixed as the rendezvous of the whole party. the prisoners would know its exact locality. with a little luck, he thought, all the ten might be captured unharmed. he got samba to question the sullen men. yes, they knew the camping-ground. "then they must paddle us to it," said jack. making sure that the holes he had cut in the canoe had been sufficiently caulked to allow of a short passage without danger, jack embarked with all the men, and in a quarter of an hour reached the camping-ground. it was about a hundred yards back from the opposite bank, pretty well hidden from the river. a few rough grass shelters, somewhat tumbledown, and traces of former encampments, showed that it was a frequent place of call for parties going up or down. when all had landed, jack sent makoko and lianza along the bank up the river to look for the oncoming of the askari, who, though they must necessarily have moved slowly while carrying the canoe, would no doubt make rapid progress when once more afloat. the six askari looked a little hopeful when they saw the two scouts leave; but samba damped their spirits at once when he told them that at the slightest sign of revolt they would be shot without mercy. to make things sure, and prevent the scheme he had in mind from being foiled, jack ordered the men to be bound hand and foot, which was very quickly done by samba and lingombela with the stripped tendrils of climbing plants. it was dark before the scouts returned. they reported that the askari had camped for the night some distance up stream, and would certainly arrive early next morning. jack arranged that when the canoe should come in sight, only himself and two of his prisoners would be visible in the centre of the camp. the askari would suppose that the rest of the party were out foraging--taking, as the custom is with the troops of the free state and the concessions, what they pleased from the black subjects of king leopold, and paying nothing, except perhaps blows, in return. the newcomers, not expecting any change in the relations of their comrade with the white prisoner, would march unconcernedly into camp. jack was pretty confident that if things came to this point, he would succeed in making the men surrender without fighting. in the early morning the askaris' paddling song was heard as they came down the river. the singing ceased; there was a shout; and jack ordered the captured askari by his side to call an answering greeting. then the party came in sight, eight men in a straggling line approaching up the path. the remaining two had evidently been left behind to tie up the canoe. the first man addressed a chaffing remark to the askari with jack, and then asked where the rest of the party were. the men pointed vaguely to the forest; their comrades were, in fact, there, gagged and securely bound to the trees. half a dozen rifles were stacked in the middle of the camping ground, the newcomers placed theirs close by, and then began to chatter about trifles in the african's way. meanwhile jack was keeping a keen eye on the men. the two captured askari were obviously ill at ease. there were the rifles within a few yards of them, yet they dared not move towards them, for they knew that in the shelter of the trees behind stood samba with the three scouts ready to shoot them down. they replied briefly to their comrades' questions; and then, in obedience to instructions given by jack previously, suggested that the newcomers should go to a cane-brake a few yards down stream, and bring back a supply of canes for building shelters like those already erected; there were not sufficient for the whole party. the men moved off. no sooner had they disappeared than samba and the three men came from behind the trees, removed all the rifles into the huts, and all except samba stationed themselves in hiding on the side of the encampment opposite to that through which the askari had just gone. samba remained with jack. in a quarter of an hour the men returned. to their amazement the white prisoner went forward to meet them. through samba he spoke to them. "it will not be necessary for you to build the huts." "why? what does the white man mean by talking to us? and who are you?" samba did not reply to their questions: he waited for the next words from jack. "there are enough empty huts here!" "how can that be? there are ten of us, and fifteen before. the huts will not hold half of us; and who are you?" "the fifteen are dead, or taken prisoners." the men gaped, unable to appreciate the full import of the news. they dropped their loads of cane and looked at the boy in astonishment. "what do you mean? what has happened? who are you?" "tell them, samba." "i am samba, the servant of lokolobolo. i came down the river with other servants of lokolobolo. we fell upon your comrades and scattered them like the leaves of the forest. we have the rifles--your rifles." the men gave a startled glance to where the stacks of arms had been. jack thought they paled beneath their dusky skin. "see!" continued samba, "if lokolobolo lifts his hand you will all be shot. his men are there, behind the trees. you have no rifles. of what good are knives against guns? you will be even as the men who are short with their rubber. you will be shot down before you can strike a blow. no; do not move," he said quickly, as the men appeared inclined to make a dash for the forest. "you cannot run so fast as the bullets. you know that, you men who shoot boys and women as they flee from you. throw down your knives at lokolobolo's feet, if you wish to live!" the man who had acted as spokesman for his comrades obeyed without a word. the rest were but little behind him. at a sign from jack, makoko and the others came from their place of hiding, and tied the feet of the prisoners, in such a way that while they could walk with short steps, they were unable to run. in a few moments the two men left at the canoe were similarly disposed of. and now jack was in command of four armed scouts and sixteen unarmed prisoners. he at once decided to make use of the askari as paddlers. one canoe would be sufficient; he would sink the vessel in which he had dug the holes. with sixteen men expert in the use of the paddle, he would make a rapid journey up stream. he was about to give the order to start when it suddenly occurred to him that it would be well to assure himself first that the coast was clear. so far he had seen no natives either on river or on land since he left elbel, save those of his own party and the band coming up with ammunition. the riverine villages had all been deserted, and the tributary down which he had travelled was at all times little frequented. but it seemed very unlikely that many more days should pass without his seeing a stranger, and when he began to think on these lines, he wondered whether perhaps elbel himself might not have occasion for sending messengers down stream, and whether the party they had met conveying stores to elbel's force might not be returning. having escaped by such wonderful good fortune, it would be sheer folly to throw away his chances of getting back to ilombekabasi by any want of caution. accordingly he sent makoko up the river and samba down the river to do a little preliminary scouting. about midday samba came running back in a state of great excitement. he had run so fast that his legs were trembling, and sweat poured from his body. not an hour's paddling distant, he had seen a smoke-boat and a large number of canoes coming up the river. he had never seen so many boats before, and they were crowded with men. and on the smoke-boat there were white men. "at last!" ejaculated jack. this, he supposed, was the captain van vorst, of whom elbel had spoken, coming up with regular troops of the state. whoever was in command, the flotilla could portend no good to jack or ilombekabasi, and he saw at once that he must give up the idea of using the askaris' canoe. he could certainly travel faster than the expedition, which must go at the pace of its slowest cargo boats; but scouting or foraging parties of the enemy might push on ahead and sight him on one of the long stretches of the river; and his men could be descried from a long distance as they made the portage. pursuit and capture would then be almost certain. his mind was instantly made up. his journey to the fort must be a land march, and it must be begun in all haste. he quickly gave his orders. the canoes were unloaded, and the stores and ammunition given to the askari to carry. the vessels were then scuttled and sunk, and the whole party plunged into the forest, after a time taking a course almost the same as that which samba had followed on his solitary journey. but before they had gone far, jack, not disposed to leave the neighbourhood without getting more exact particulars of the advancing host, went back with samba, leaving the rest of the party to continue their march. samba rapidly wormed his way through the forest back to the river bank. they reached a position, whence, unseen themselves, they could command a long reach of the river. there they waited. soon they heard the regular beat of the steamer's paddles; then the songs of the canoe-boys. by and by a steam launch came into view round a bend of the river. it was crowded. far away as it was as yet, jack could easily distinguish the white-clad figures of three europeans on deck, amid a crowd of negroes in the tunic, pantaloons, and fez of the state troops. clearly it was as he had feared. the concession had followed the usual course, when the rapacity of its officials had provoked a revolt too formidable to be coped with by its own forces, and had called in the aid of the regular army. as canoe after canoe appeared in the wake of the steamer, jack could not help a feeling of dismay at the size of the force arrayed against him. his spirits sank lower and lower as he watched. by the time the steamer came abreast of his hiding-place, the flotilla filled the whole of the stretch of river open to his view. in the still air, amid the songs and chatter of the natives, he could hear the laughter of the europeans as they passed. he knew that only a portion of the men in this armada were fighting men; the rest were paddlers and carriers, not part of the combatant force. but a rough attempt to count the men bearing rifles gave him at least three hundred, and he started as he saw in one canoe what was clearly the shield of a machine gun. captain van vorst, if it was he, undoubtedly meant business. before the last canoe had passed their hiding-place jack and samba started to overtake their party. the former was deep in thought. "we must reach the fort before them," he said. "they go very slow," was samba's reply. "yes, and the carrying of all their stores and canoes up the rapids will take many days. but we must hurry as fast as we can." "much chicotte for the paddlers," said samba, with a grin. jack did not reply. he could not adopt the barbarous methods of the enemy; but he had not the heart to dash samba's very natural hopes of paying back to the askari something of what they had dealt to the carriers on the way down. short of thrashing them he would urge them to their utmost speed. what difficulties he might meet with in regaining the fort he did not stop to consider. the thought of barney holding his own there--had he been able to hold his own?--and of the large reinforcements coming to support elbel, was a spur to activity. ilombekabasi and its people were in danger; and the post of danger demanded the presence of lokolobolo. [1] immediately. [2] there. chapter xxvii the return of lokolobolo "lokolobolo! lokolobolo! lokolobol'olotsi! lokolobolo is here! lokolobolo has come back to us! bolotsi o! why do we laugh? why do we sing? samba has found lokolobolo! samba has brought him back to us!" ilombekabasi was delirious with joy. men and women were shouting, laughing, singing; the children were dancing and blowing strident notes upon their little trumpets; imbono's drummer was banging with all his might, filling the air with shattering thunder. jack quivered with feeling; his lips trembled as he sat once more in his hut, listening to the jubilant cries his arrival had evoked. it was something, it was much, that he had been able so to win the devoted affection of these poor negroes of the congo. outside, the two chiefs imbono and mboyo were talking of the joyful event. "yes! wonderful! lokolobolo is here! and with him two strange white chiefs. wonderful! did you ever see such a big man? i am big," said imbono, "but i am not so big as makole the chief of limpoko, and one of the strange white men is bigger than he." "it needed two ropes to draw him up from the gully," said mboyo. "i am strong, but though i had four men to help me it was hard work. he must be a very great chief." "and the other must be a great chief too. did not samba say that lokolobolo gave him his last bottle of devil water?" "but the big man is hurt. it is the leg. it is not so bad as ikola's; but ikola was shot. they have put him in barnio's hut; the other chief is with lokolobolo. it is good that the white chiefs have come. now lokolobolo will sweep elobela down the hillside, even as a straw in the storm." "but what of the smoke-boat that samba says is coming with the white men in white, and the black men in cloth the colour of straw, and things on their heads the colour of fire? will lokolobolo be able to beat them too?" "lokolobolo is able to beat all bula matadi; and he has the other white men to help. never fear! lokolobolo will beat them all. we shall see. there he is, coming out of his hut with the white chief. lokolobolo wanda!"[1] "you must be a proud man to-day, mr. challoner," said the stranger. "i am too anxious to be proud," said jack with a smile. "i haven't the heart to stop them shouting and making a noise, but it's a pity to disturb our enemy in the camp down yonder. i shall have to go and make a speech to them, i suppose; it is more in your line than mine, mr. arlington. luckily i'm not sufficiently fluent in their language to be long-winded." they went together into the midst of the throng. when within three marches of ilombekabasi jack's party had stumbled upon a wretched encampment in the forest which proved to contain two white men and three negroes. samba came upon them first, and, startled to find white men at this spot, he was cocking his rifle, supposing them to be state officers, when one of them called to him in a congo dialect not to shoot; he was an inglesa. when jack came up he found that the taller of the two men, the one who had spoken, a huge fellow with a great black beard, was a missionary named dathan, the other being the honourable george arlington, with whose name jack was familiar. mr. arlington was a man of mark. after a brilliant career at cambridge he had entered parliament, and became an under-secretary of state at a younger age than almost any one before him. when his party was out of office he took the opportunity of travelling in many quarters of the globe, to study at first hand the great problems which more and more demand the attention of british statesmen. now, in his fortieth year, he was recognized as an authority on the subjects which he had so specially made his own. he had come out to make a personal study of the congo question, and in order to secure freedom of observation had decided to enter congo territory, not from boma, whence he would be shadowed throughout by officials, but from british territory through uganda. in unyoro he had met his old college chum frank dathan, now a missionary engaged on a tour of inspection of his society's work in central africa. dathan, having completed his task in uganda, was to make his way into the congo state and visit several mission stations there. the two friends thereupon arranged to travel together. mr. arlington being anxious to see a little of what was an almost unexplored part of africa, they chose as their route the northern fringe of the great forest. but they got into difficulties when they entered country which, though not yet "administered," or "exploited," was nominally free state territory. at the sight of white men the natives they met with one accord took to the woods. the result was that the travellers were once or twice nearly starved; many of their carriers deserted with their loads; and they both suffered a good deal from exposure and privation. to crown their misfortunes, dathan fell with a loose rock one day when he was climbing down a steep bank to get water, and broke his leg. arlington tried without success to set the bone, and was hurrying on in the hope of finding a free state outpost and a doctor when jack came upon them. jack at once frankly explained his position. he did not give details of his work at ilombekabasi, but he saw no reason for concealing the circumstances which had driven him into antagonism with the officials of the concession. he related what had happened to his uncle, and how he had escaped from the net woven about him by elbel; he told the strangers also what he had actually seen of the congo government's method of dealing with the natives. then he asked them whether they would like to place themselves under the care of elbel, who could, if he were disposed, send them under escort to stanleyville, where the missionary might receive competent treatment. both were disinclined to do this; they would prefer to keep themselves free from the congo state or its trusts. the alternative seemed to be to accompany jack. this might certainly give rise to complications; mr. dathan especially was loth to appear to identify himself with an armed revolt against the state. missionaries, as he told jack, were already in bad odour with the authorities; they had told too much of what was going on. in many parts they had come to be looked upon as the natives' only defenders, and had done a little, a very little, towards mitigating the worst features of their lot. but he was still more loth even to seem to countenance elbel's proceedings by seeking his camp; and mr. arlington thought that his presence in ilombekabasi, when it became known to elbel, might have a salutary effect on him. ultimately, then, they decided to run the blockade with jack into the fort. the augmented party had had no difficulty in reaching their destination. the same general course was followed as had been arranged for the reception of mr. martindale's party. they halted in a copse on an eminence about six miles from the fort and above it. to reach this spot they had to make a longer circuit than either mr. martindale or elbel in his first attempt to surprise ilola. but before going farther it was necessary to discover how the land lay. samba was obviously the best of the party for this scouting work, but he could hardly be spared if the fort happened to be too closely invested for the entrance of the whole party to be made. jack therefore chose makoko, a sturdy fellow and an excellent scout, scribbled a brief note to barney, hid it in the negro's thick woolly hair, and sent him on alone. if he came safely to ilombekabasi and it seemed to barney possible to run the blockade, a flag was to be hoisted on one of the blockhouses. the signal would be acted on as soon as possible in the darkness. makoko left at nightfall. before dawn samba went on some two miles ahead to a place whence he could see the fort. he returned with the welcome news that a piece of red cloth was flying on the northern blockhouse. jack waited impatiently throughout the day; as soon as it was dark samba led the party forward. they moved slowly, partly to allow time for careful scouting, partly because mr. dathan had to be carried, and proved a heavy burden even for six strong askari. no difficulties were met with; elbel had ceased to patrol the surroundings of the fort at night, and in the early hours of the morning in pitch darkness the party marched quietly in at the gate on the north side of the fort. jack put his own hut at mr. arlington's disposal. mr. dathan was carried to barney's; and before hearing what had happened during his absence jack insisted on the missionary's having his injuries attended to. barney managed to set the broken limb, though not without causing a good deal of pain for which he whimsically apologized. then jack listened eagerly to his account of what had happened. elbel had made two serious attacks. the first was an attempt to carry the fort by assault, from the place whence he had sent his fire barrels rolling. but after the capture of elbel's rifles and ammunition a considerable number of jack's men who had hitherto been spearmen had been trained in the use of the albini; so that barney had a force of nearly ninety riflemen with which to meet the attack, half of them at least being good shots. one charge was enough for the enemy; the fire from the wall and blockhouses mowed down the advancing negroes by the score; they never reached the defences, but turned and fled to cover in the gully and behind the rocks above. [illustration: ilombekabasi and surrounding country, showing the diverted stream and elbel's third camp] then elbel demolished the dam he had built on the slope, and allowed the river to flow again in the channel it had cut for itself down the long incline to the eastward. "what would he be doing that for, sorr? seems to me he has wasted a terrible deal uv good time in putting up and pulling down. two men i sent out as scouts niver came back, and i wondered to meself whether they'd been bagged, sorr, and had let out something that made elbel want to play more tricks wid nature. often did i see elbel himself dodging round the fort wid his spyglass in his hand, and 'tis the truth's truth i let some uv the men have a little rifle practice at him. sure he must have a cat's nine lives, sorr, for ten uv the niggers said they were sartin sure they'd hit him." "trying to solve our water puzzle, barney! go on." there was an interval of some days; then, at daybreak one morning, while a strong demonstration, apparently the preliminary of an attack, was observed on the north and east, a body of men crept up the gully and made a sudden rush with ladders for the hole in the wall by which the scouts had been accustomed to go in and out. it was clear that elbel's best men were engaged in this job, for barney heard loud cries for help from the small body he had thought sufficient to leave on the western face of the fort. rushing to the place with a handful of men, he was just in time to prevent the enemy from effecting an entrance. there was a brisk fight for two or three minutes; then the ladders placed against the wall were hurled into the gully, and with them the forlorn hope of the storming party. "that was three days ago, sorr. and two or three uv our men declared they saw mbota among the enemy, pointing out the very spot where the hole is--whin it is a hole. you remember mbota, sorr--the man who brought in his wife on his back, her wid the hands cut off. 'twas he i sent out scouting. sure the chicotte had been at work wid him; for niver a wan uv our men, i would swear before the lord chancellor uv ireland, would turn traitor widout they were in mortal terror for their lives, or even worse." "and you have not been attacked since?" "no, sorr. but i've had me throubles all the same. samba ought to be made, beggin' your pardon, sorr, high constable uv this fort." "indeed!" "yes, sorr, 'cos it seems 'tis only he that can keep the peace. would you believe it, sorr, the very next day after you were gone, imbono's men and mboyo's men began to quarrel; 'twas orange and green, sorr, and a fine shindy. whin samba was here, he'd make 'em laugh, and 'twas all calm as the liffey; but widout samba--bedad! sorr, i didn't know what in the world to do wid 'em. sure i wished elbel would fight all the time, so that there'd be no time left for the spalpeens here to fight wan another. but at last, sorr, a happy thought struck me; quite an intimation, as one might say. i remimbered the day when the master--rest his soul!--and you made yourselves blood-brothers uv imbono. that was a mighty fine piece uv work, thinks i. so wan morning i had a big palaver--likambo the niggers call it, your honour." (barney's air as he gave this information to mr. arlington was irresistibly laughable.) "i made a spache, and lepoko turned it into their talk as well as he could, poor fellow; and sure they cheered it so powerful hard that i thought 'twas a mimber uv parlimint i ought to be. well, sorr, the end was i made imbono and mboyo blood-brothers, and niver a word uv difference have they had since." "a plan that might be tried with leaders of parties at home," said mr. arlington with a smile. "there's wan other thing that throubles me," added barney. "our food is getting low, sorr. we had such a powerful lot that wan would have thought 'twould last for iver. but in a fortnight we shall be on very short commons; we've been on half rations this week or more." "that's bad news indeed. but we shall know our fate in a fortnight. the state troops are coming at last, barney." barney pulled a long face when jack told him about the flotilla he had seen coming up the river. but the next moment he smiled broadly. "sure 'twill be our salvation, sorr. there'll be a power uv food on those canoes, and 'twill come in the nick uv time to save us from famine." "but we've got to capture it first!" "and won't it be aisy, sorr? it won't drop into our mouths, to be sure, but there's niver a doubt we'll get it by this or that." jack smiled at barney's confidence, which he could hardly share. he estimated that he had about a week's grace before the state troops could arrive, unless they made a forced march ahead of their stores, which was not very likely. he could not look forward without misgiving. elbel's troops, strongly reinforced and commanded by an experienced military officer, would prove a very different enemy. he doubted whether it would be wise to wait the issue of a fight. apart from the risk of being utterly crushed, there was a strong political reason against it, as mr. arlington did not fail to point out. hitherto jack had been dealing with an officer of the société cosmopolite, and he could argue reasonably that he was only opposing unwarranted interference. but if he resisted an armed force of the state, it became at once open rebellion. "you render yourself liable to the punishment of a rebel, mr. challoner," said mr. arlington, "and your british nationality will not help you. you might be shot or hanged. what i suggest to you is this. when the state forces appear, let me open negotiations with them. they will probably know my name; i have a certain influence in high quarters; i could probably make terms for you." "but the people, mr. arlington! you could not make terms for them. what would happen to them? they would fall into the power of their oppressors, and the old tale would be continued--illegal demands and exactions, floggings, maimings, murders. it was a solemn charge from my uncle to stand by the defenceless negroes; it is no less the dictate of humanity: we, they and i, are in the same boat, sir, and we must sink or swim together." as it was of supreme importance to jack to know at what rate the hostile column was moving, he sent out that night samba, makoko, and lingombela with orders to report the progress of the expedition from day to day. by taking the road through the forest they should get into touch with the enemy by the time they reached the place where mr. martindale had left his canoes. if the scouts should find themselves unable to return to the fort they were to light a large fire on the spot whence samba had seen barney's flag flying, as a signal that the expedition had passed the place in question. if a small column should be coming on in advance they were to light two fires a little apart from one another. samba was even more light-hearted than usual when he left the fort with his comrades. he seemed to feel that this was a mission of special importance, the prelude to a final victory for lokolobolo; for the possibility of defeat for lokolobolo never suggested itself to any man in ilombekabasi. mboyo and lukela were at the wall to bid their son goodbye. he laughed as he slipped down into the darkness. "ekeke e'afeka!"[2] he whispered gleefully, and hastened to overtake makoko and lingombela, who were already some distance up the gully. shortly after dawn next day the sentries reported a sound as of a large body of men moving up the hill. jack instantly called the garrison to arms. there was a good deal of noise in the darkness above the fort. here and there a dim light showed for a few moments, and was promptly fired at. when day broke jack saw that the enemy had built a rough wall of stones loosely piled up, some fifty yards long and about four feet high, parallel with the north wall of the fort, one end resting on the edge of the gully. from a convenient spot in the gully, about two hundred yards above the fort, the enemy could creep to the extremity of the wall without coming under the fire of the garrison. it had evidently been erected to screen some operations going on behind it. to guard against a sortie from the fort a covering force had been placed on the hill a quarter of a mile farther up; and between the ill-fitting stones there were small gaps which would serve as loopholes for the riflemen. during the day the enemy were hard at work digging a trench under cover of the wall. jack wondered at first whether elbel was going to make approaches to the fort by sap and mine, in the manner he had read of in histories of the great sieges. but another and still more disturbing thought occurred to him. would the trench cut across the line of his conduit? had elbel at last fathomed the secret of his water supply? he anxiously examined the landmarks, which had been disturbed somewhat by the construction of the wall. as nearly as he could judge, the spring was a few yards south of the wall, and neither it nor the conduit would be discovered by the men digging the trench. yet he could not but feel that elbel's latest move was not so much an attempt to undermine the defences of the fort as to discover the source of its water supply. if he should have hit upon the fact that the water was derived, not from a well inside the walls, but from a spring outside, he would not be long in coming to the conclusion that it must be from a spot opposite the northern face; and by cutting a trench or a series of trenches across the ground in that direction he must sooner or later come upon the conduit. the work proceeded without intermission during the whole of the day, and apparently without success, for the level of the water in the fort tank did not fall. but elbel's activity was not stopped by the darkness. when morning dawned jack saw that during the night an opening about five feet wide had been made in the wall, giving access to a passage-way of about the same height leading towards the fort and roughly covered with logs, no doubt as a protection against rifle fire. only about twenty yards of this passage-way had been completed. the end towards the fort was closed by a light screen of timber resting on rollers, and sufficiently thick to be impervious to rifle fire, as jack soon found by experiment. evidently another trench was to be dug near the fort. to avoid the labour of building a second covering wall, elbel had hit on the idea of a passage-way through which his men might reach the spot where he desired the new trench to be begun. protected by the screen, they could dig a hole several feet deep, and then, too low to be hit by shots from the fort, could proceed with the trench in safety. jack wondered whether elbel had not yet heard of the approach of the state forces. such feverish activity was surely unnecessary when reinforcements were only a few days' march distant. it was barney who suggested that elbel had made such a mess of things hitherto that he was eager to do something, to gain a success of some kind, before the regular forces should arrive. under cover of the wooden screen the enemy, as jack had expected, started to dig another trench parallel with the wall. they had no lack of labourers; as soon as one gang was tired another was ready to take its place; and the work was carried on very rapidly. with growing anxiety jack watched the progress of the trench towards the gully. his conduit was only three feet from the surface of the ground. judging by the fact that his marksmen never got an opportunity of taking aim at the diggers, the trench must be at least five feet deep; and if an opening were made into the gully the conduit was sure to be exposed. there was just one hope that they would fail. jack remembered the outcrop of rock which had necessitated the laying of the pipes, for a length of some yards, several feet lower than the general level. if the enemy should happen to have struck this point there was a fair chance of the conduit escaping their search; for, coming upon the layer of rock, they would probably not guess that pipes were carried beneath it. to reassure himself, jack called up imbono and mboyo and asked them if they could locate the spot where the rock occurred. their impression agreed with his, that it must at any rate be very near the place where the enemy's trench would issue into the gully. but jack's anxiety was not relieved at the close of the day, for again the work was carried on all night. he thought of a sortie, but reflected that this would be taken by elbel as an indication that he was hot on the scent. and while a sortie might inflict loss on the enemy, it would not prevent elbel from resuming his excavations as soon as the garrison had retired again within their defences. with great relief jack at last heard the sound of pick-axes striking on rock. it seemed too good to be true that the enemy had come upon the exact dozen yards of rock where alone the conduit was in little danger of being laid bare. yet this proved to be the case. in the morning elbel drew off his workmen, apparently satisfied, before the trench had been actually completed to the gully, that he was on the wrong track. a great load was lifted from jack's mind. if the secret of the water supply had been discovered, he knew that the end could only be a matter of a few days. as soon as the enemy drew off, jack's men issued forth, demolished the wall, and filled up the trench. three days passed in comparative inactivity. during these days jack had much of his time taken up by mr. arlington, who required of him a history of all that had happened since the first meeting with elbel. the traveller made copious jottings in his note-book. he asked the most minute questions about the rubber traffic and the methods of the state and the concessions; he had long interviews with imbono and mboyo, and endured very patiently lepoko's expanded versions of statements already garrulous; he took many photographs with his kodak of the people who had been maimed by the forest guards, and asked jack to present him with a chicotte--one of those captured along with the askari. he said very little, probably thinking the more. certainly he let nothing escape his observation. meanwhile mr. dathan was making friends of all the children. unable to endure the stuffiness of the hut, he had himself carried on a sheltered litter into the open, where, propped up on pillows, his burly form might be seen in the midst of a large circle of little black figures, who looked at him earnestly with their bright intelligent eyes and drank in the wonderful stories he told them. many of their elders hovered on the fringe of the crowd; and when the lesson was finished, they went away and talked among themselves of nzakomba[3] the great spirit father who, as the bont' ok'ota-a-a-li[4] said, had put it into the heart of lokolobolo to defend and help them. before the dawn one morning lingombela came into the fort. he reported that the new enemy had only just finished the portage of their canoes and stores. the steamer had been left below the rapids, and the white men were embarking on canoes. there were not enough to convey the whole expedition at one time, although some had been sent down the river to meet them. two or three had been lost through attempting to save time by dragging them up the rapids. lingombela had himself seen this, with samba. samba had no doubt already told what he had seen, but he did not know about the big gun which could fire as many shots as a hundred men, for the white men had not begun to practise at a mark in their camp above the rapids until samba had left. "but we have seen nothing of samba; where is he?" "he started to return to ilombekabasi a day before i did." "and makoko?" "makoko is still watching." lingombela's statement about samba alarmed jack. what had become of the boy? had he fallen into the enemy's hands? it was too much to be feared. what else could have delayed him? in threading the forest none of the scouts could travel so fast as he. if he had started a day before lingombela he should have gained at least five or six hours. the news soon flew through the settlement that samba was missing. mboyo and his wife came to jack to ask whether lingombela had told the truth. their troubled looks touched jack, and he tried to cheer them. "samba has not arrived yet, certainly," he said, "but he may not have come direct. something may have taken him out of his course; he would go a long way round if he thought it would be of use to us. don't be worried. he has gone in and out safely so often that surely he will come by and by." the negroes went away somewhat comforted. but jack felt very anxious, and his feeling was fully shared by barney. "'tis meself that fears elbel has got him," he said. "pat has been most uncommon restless for two days. he looks up in the face uv me and barks, whin he's not wanting anything at all. 'tis only samba can rightly understand all pat says, and seems to me pat has got an idea that something has happened to samba." an hour later pat also had disappeared. he had broken his strap and run away. [1] the highest salutation, given to a person of great dignity. [2] the last time. [3] god. [4] very tall man. chapter xxviii the chicotte a small palm, spared for the sake of its welcome shade when the rest of the ground was cleared, sheltered monsieur elbel's tent from the fiercest rays of the tropical sun, in the tent monsieur elbel, smoking a bad belgian cigar, his camp chair tilted back to a perilous angle, his feet on a small rickety table, read and re-read with a smile of satisfaction a short official communication that had just reached him from brussels. owing to the retirement of the company's principal agent, and in recognition of monsieur elbel's energy in doubling the consignment of rubber from his district during the past year, the comité had been pleased to appoint monsieur elbel to be administrative chief of the maranga concession. at the same time the comité hoped that monsieur elbel would see his way to deal promptly and effectively with the reported outbreak at ilola, without incurring undue expense, and that the american who had been giving trouble, and whose patent was now revoked (with the concurrence of the state) would be persuaded of the necessity of leaving the country. monsieur elbel was gratified by the news of his promotion; although it was his due by all the standards of conduct set up for the guidance of officials, whether state or trust, charged with the exploitation of congoland. under no officer had the development of king leopold's african dominions gone more blithely forward than under monsieur elbel. where he and his men went they left a wilderness behind them; but the amount of rubber they collected was most gratifying; and if maranga stock stood high it was largely through their exertions. true, in twenty years there would be no people left in maranga, even if there were rubber to collect. but after all that was not monsieur elbel's concern: in twenty years he would not be on the congo; those who came after him must find their own collectors. he and the king took short views: sufficient unto the day--they were both men of business. yes, as a man of affairs guillaume elbel was hard to beat. it was no wonder that the comité had promoted him to the vacant post; if he had been passed by, where would be the inducement to zeal, to loyal faithful service? where indeed? in the circumstances monsieur elbel was in good humour, a relaxation he rarely allowed himself. he drank the remains of his absinthe, tilted his chair back to the critical angle, and blowing a cloud of smoke skywards saw in the curling eddies visions of snug directorates in brussels. why not? he flattered himself there were none who knew more about the congo than he; he could estimate to a few francs the possibilities of any district as expressed in rubber; and, what is more, he knew how to get it. with him the people always lasted as long as the rubber. there was no waste; he plumed himself on the point. _he_ had never burnt a village before the rubber was exhausted, whatever might be said of other agents. for after all, his business was to promote commerce--that is, collect rubber--not mere destruction. and if he did not know his business there was nobody who could teach him. yes--his majesty had an eye to men of his stamp. a directorate--a few directorates--a snug place at court--who knows? ... monsieur elbel again glanced at the official letter; and again smiled and blew a ring artistically true. then his eye caught the word "expense," and his expression changed. this ilola difficulty would not only reduce his rubber consignments; it would mean a considerable outlay--how much he did not like to think. and then there was the column of state troops now on its way. no doubt the concession would have to pay for that, too. peste! if only he could finish this business before van vorst came up! he did not desire the presence of van vorst or any other state officer, if it could be avoided. for there was gold in the stream, without a doubt; and those state officials were greedy rascals; they were capable of edging him out--they had no scruples--his moral claim would go for nothing, absolutely. yes, the fort must be captured at once before van vorst came up. if only he could tap the water supply it would be easy enough. it could be done; the little fool had let out so much; but how?--that was what he had to find out, and his name was not elbel if he couldn't do it. he rose and went to the door of the tent. a few yards away, securely tied to the trunk of the slender palm, was a negro boy. monsieur elbel looked at him critically as if measuring his strength. last night, although threatened with the chicotte, the boy had refused to speak. only once, when elbel had offered him freedom and rewards if he would point out the source of the water in the camp above, did he open his lips, saying fiercely: "i will never tell you!"--betraying to the questioner that he had some knowledge of the secret. now he had had twelve hours of hunger and thirst to help him to a more reasonable frame of mind. all night the cords had been eating into his wrists and ankles; he was weak from want of food, and consumed with an intolerable thirst. he stood there in the blazing sun, a listless, pitiable figure, held upright only by the thongs that bound his wrists; and monsieur elbel as he looked at him, felt not a little irritated. it was absurd that he should be inconvenienced; nay, more, that the development of the concession should be delayed, and expense incurred--avoidable, unnecessary expense--expense without any return in rubber--all because this slip of a boy refused to tell what he knew. elbel beckoned to his servant and interpreter, standing close by, attentive and expectant. "tell him," he said, "that i will give him one more chance. if he will not speak he shall be thrashed with the chicotte until he does." the man roughly grasped the boy by the shoulders and translated his master's words. the captive slowly shook his head. "fetch the chicotte," said elbel sharply. "we'll see what that will do." the man entered the tent, where the chicotte invariably lay ready to hand; and when he emerged the space in front of elbel's quarters was filling with askari and their followers flocking like vultures to the feast. samba, the son of mboyo, chief of banonga, was to be whipped. boloko had caught him last night: he was a clever man, boloko. and samba knew where the inglesa got the water for his camp, the secret was to be cut from him by the chicotte. that was good; it would be a sight to see. no time was lost. elbel signed to the man as he approached, and stepping back left him a clear space to swing the whip. the negro prided himself upon his skill; as elbel's servant, indeed, he had more opportunities of perfecting himself with this typical instrument of congo government than falls to most. he could deliver a stroke with great delicacy, raising only a long red weal upon the skin, or if the case called for real severity could cut the offender's flesh from his body almost as neatly as with a knife. in this case his master desired information; it was not a mere question of punishing a sullen defaulter. he would begin gently lest the prisoner should lose the power of speech and shame the executioner before his master and the crowd. a slight convulsive shiver shook the boy's frame as the whip fell, but he clenched his teeth and no sound escaped him. the man waited for a moment. "will you tell?" there was no answer. again the whip rose and fell, this time with a more vicious sound; it was answered by a low groan; but still to the same question there was no reply. by slow degrees the executioner increased the vigour of his stroke. the askari applauded, and surely he was meriting praise from his master, for after many strokes the prisoner was quite conscious, as his pallid face and staring eyes and clenched teeth clearly showed. and besides, did he not writhe and groan with every blow? but there is no reckoning with the vagaries of the white man. the culprit's obstinate silence irritated monsieur elbel more and more as the punishment went on. it was intolerable that he should be defied in this way. it was a bad example to the natives. where would the white man's authority be if this kind of thing were permitted? they would lose all respect: the collection of rubber would become a farce. suddenly he blazed out in anger, snatched the whip from the hands of his servant, and, whirling it round his head, brought it down with all his force on the bruised and bleeding form. it cut a deep purple gash in the boy's back; but monsieur elbel's wrath had come too late; before the lash fell samba had fainted. elbel hesitated for a moment; then, seeing that further punishment would be a mere waste of time, he gave a curt order. they cut samba's cords and carried him away. he was to be whipped again to-morrow. that afternoon lepoko came to jack with a broad grin on his face. "mbota come back, sah." "that's the scout of massa barney's who was captured, isn't it?" "yussah! he come back, sah. oh! it make me laugh plenty much. elobela send mbota back; he say, 'you go back, cut off lokolobolo him head. me gib you twenty, fousand, plenty, plenty brass rods!' mbota say, 'all same, massa. anyfing what massa like. me get plenty men what help.' den mbota come back; he laugh, sah; elobela plenty big fool fink him lib for hurt lokolobolo." "bring mbota to me at once." when the man came, jack got out of him a more lucid story than lepoko had given. elbel had promised freedom and large rewards if he would stir up a revolt against jack, or assassinate him. the negro had readily promised, with no intention but to reveal the whole scheme to his beloved lokolobolo. jack was still talking to the man when he heard loud cries. running out of his hut, he found barney clutching by the arm a strange negro, thronged about by a shouting crowd of the men of ilombekabasi. "who is he?" "'tis wan uv elbel's men, sorr. lianza caught him in the forest, and brought him in. the men are simply mad to get at him, sorr, especially since they've heard uv what elbel said to mbota." "leave him to me. i will deal with him." the men slowly dispersed. jack took the trembling negro to his hut and questioned him. "do you know anything of samba, the son of mboyo and nephew of boloko, one of your master's men?" yes, he knew.--was there a man in elobela's camp who did not know?--who had not exulted when the news spread that samba, the best of lokolobolo's scouts, had been captured and was to pay the penalty? surely not a man was absent when samba suffered the torture. had not many of them tried in vain to discover the secret which samba would be forced to betray? the scout described to jack the whole pitiful scene, in the glowing language, with the telling dramatic gestures, which the negro has at command when he feels that his audience is interested. and while the man told his story jack went hot and cold by turns--cold with sheer horror of the scene conjured up by the man's vivid words, hot with a great wrath, a burning passionate desire to seek instant vengeance upon the evildoer. bidding barney keep the negro carefully under guard, he went back to his hut, at the entrance to which mr. arlington had been anxiously watching the scene. "it is devilish, sir," he burst out. "elbel not only offers rewards for assassinating me, but he uses his brutal whip on a boy, to force him to reveal the secret of our water supply. samba is probably half-dead--he fainted under the lash but would not betray us--brave little fellow! think of the agony he must have suffered! and he is only one; thousands have suffered in the same way before him, and are suffering to-day in one part or another of this state. do you blame me now, sir?" "no, i don't blame you. i am deeply sorry for the poor boy. the whole thing is an outrage upon human nature, so revolting that any action that can be taken against it is fully justified. i have been thinking over what we said the other day. it is not for me to advise; indeed, my friends at home would open their eyes at the idea of my abetting resistance to authority; but i will give you my opinion. you must hold your fort. while the banner of revolt is kept flying there is always a prospect of forcing the hand of the officials in the direction of effective reform. they have an enormous area to control--a disaffected area seething with indignation against bitter wrong. a successful revolt will encourage outbreaks elsewhere. if you can only hold out; if you can make yourself strong enough here in this remote corner to defy the authorities, it will be an opportunity of forcing the government to terms--to the granting of elementary rights of justice and liberty to its own subjects, and the throwing open of this sorely-afflicted country to free intercourse with the outside world." "ah! if only i can do it, sir! but i can only hold the fort now by striking a blow at elbel before his reinforcements join him. if the forces unite, they will be strong enough to carry on a strict siege. our food is giving out; the people have been for some time on half rations; they don't grumble, but it will have to be quarter rations soon, and then the end is not far off. we must either surrender or trek." "if you have to trek, it would be better to do so at once, while you have food to take your party on your way." "yes, we must either do that or thoroughly beat elbel. that would ease the pressure; the others would think twice before attacking us; they might even draw off until an overwhelming force could be brought against us. that would give time for us to grow more crops, and for you to go back to england, sir, and raise your voice against this atrocious government." "i shall certainly do that. but you talk of fighting elbel; have you thought of the risk?" "till my head aches with thinking. i know that failure will mean ruin. it must be a smashing blow; pin-pricks are no good; and i can't smash him without taking a large force out of the fort. if we were obliged to retreat we should be followed up; they might rush the fort, and there would be an end of everything." "it is a difficult position. i can't help you; i am not a soldier--it seems to me you ought to be one, mr. challoner. i could take no active part; i should in any case be little good. i feel that you have landed me in a very awkward position," he added with a smile. "but it can't be helped now; i can only wait and see you go through with it." at the back of jack's mind there was another consideration which he did not mention. he could not have said how far he allowed it to count. it was the bare chance of rescuing samba--if samba was still alive. if it had been put to him, he would probably not have admitted it. the good of the community could not be jeopardized by any action on behalf of an individual, whatever his claim; the circumstances were too critical. but that the fate of samba was an additional argument in favour of the course he was on other grounds inclined to adopt there can be no doubt. next day the urgency of the situation was brought home to him. two fires were seen at the appointed spot; makoko had done his work. five or six hours later, just after nightfall, makoko himself came in. he reported that one white man with twenty soldiers in two canoes, with many paddlers, had started up river in advance of the bulk of the force, which had now reached camp at the head of the rapids. jack guessed that the white man was the officer in command, probably the captain van vorst of whom elbel had spoken, coming ahead to view the position and select an encampment for his followers. about noon on the next day there was a great sound of jubilation from the camp below. van vorst, if it was he, had arrived. he must have travelled night and day, the river route being so much longer than the forest one that otherwise he could hardly have reached the camp in another twelve hours. but his paddlers were no doubt pressed men from the riverine villages, costing nothing and having no rights, and a congo state commandant in a hurry would not hesitate to drive them. in the afternoon a negro bearing a white flag was seen approaching the fort from the south. he evidently expected to be admitted by the hole in the wall. but at jack's bidding lianza of the brazen throat called to him to come round to the gate on the north; it was well to observe due order and ceremony. the man brought a note signed "van vorst," demanding the instant surrender of the fort. in reply jack wrote asking for the assurance that his people, having acted throughout in self defence against the illegalities of the société cosmopolite, should be guaranteed liberty to depart, and immunity except against the regular legal process of the courts. in half an hour the messenger returned with a curt summons to unconditional surrender. jack sent back a polite refusal, feeling that he had now burnt his boats. shortly afterwards he saw a party of three white men and about twenty state soldiers, all armed with rifles, making a tour round the position, keeping carefully under cover. through his field-glass jack recognized elbel, one of his subordinates, and one of the officers he had seen on the steamer. elbel pointed this way and that with outstretched hand, and appeared to be talking with some excitement. occasionally they came within easy range of the fort, and barney begged jack to let the men fire upon them; but jack resolutely stuck to his determination to refrain from provocation. the party by and by reached a position above the fort, near the spot whence the abortive barrel-rolling had been started. from this place a small area of the fort enclosure was open to the view of the enemy. all at once jack saw the strange officer take a rifle from one of the soldiers and raise it to his shoulder. jack instantly ordered his men, who were crowding the wall, to drop down out of sight. the officer fired: there was a moment's silence; then jack heard a great yell of rage from the men behind him. turning, he saw an old woman lying huddled in the centre of the enclosure. two calabashes lay near; she had been crossing the exposed portion of the area to fetch water from the tank when van vorst's bullet struck her. a shout of delight from the negro soldiers up the hill acclaimed the successful shot of their officer; the old woman was quite dead. jack went hot with rage. and mr. arlington, who had witnessed the officer's action, was stirred out of his usual philosophic calm. "that is not an act of warfare, mr. challoner, but of sheer savagery--the act of a callous marksman showing off. it invites reprisal." "you see how the state treats its subjects, mr. arlington. they have taken cover; it's too late to fire now. but it settles the matter for me. the state has fired the first shot and killed a non-combatant. i shall do my best this very night to deal the enemy a staggering blow." chapter xxix reaping the whirlwind during the inaction of the past two days jack had been carefully thinking out his plan. stout-hearted as he was, he felt oppressed by the difficulties of his position. he had now four hundred men in all; scarcely a hundred of them were armed with rifles, and not more than fifty were practised shots. how could he hope to dislodge from a stockaded camp more than seven hundred, of whom some two hundred and fifty, including van vorst's advance guard, were riflemen? it seemed at the best a desperate hazard, but the alternative was worse, and having resolved upon his course he rejected all half measures. some few of his own men must be left in the fort, if only to prevent a panic; but those must be the minimum--he would need every man he could muster. he was staking all on the cast of a die; it would never do to risk failure by timorousness in using all his effective combatant strength. he would throw his whole available force against the enemy in one supreme effort to break and scatter him. the offensive, he knew, counted for much, especially with men who had not known defeat. where he and barney led he felt sure they would follow. but a check might be fatal. a single well-directed volley from the enemy might sweep his little company of riflemen away, and his spearmen would then never get to close quarters. he gave full weight to all these considerations. but having decided that the attempt must be made he devoted long hours of anxious thought to the devising of a plan that would give best promise of success. he had to do his thinking alone. barney was a fighter, not a strategist. he could be trusted to strike hard and carry out orders to the minutest detail; he could not plan or organize. mr. arlington and the missionary of course must not be consulted. so that when barney was called into jack's hut that afternoon, it was to learn particulars of a scheme worked out by jack alone. when he left it an hour or two later, his eyes were glowing with a new light. "sure 'tis me chance that has come at last!" he said to himself. it was two o'clock in the morning. ilombekabasi was astir. men and boys were moving this way and that. the night was dark, but by the light of the small lamps kept burning before a few of the principal huts it could be seen that every face was tense with excitement and a subdued energy. in one spot congregated the maimed people, armed with such weapons as they could wield, for the news that a great movement was intended had spread in the camp, and every man and many of the girls and women had begged to be allowed to bear arms. near the south-eastern blockhouse the bulk of the able-bodied men and boys were squatting, rifles and spears lying beside them. at the gate in the north wall stood twenty-five men, the picked men of the corps, the men whom lokolobolo had twice led out to victory. there was lepoko, all smiles and consequence. there was makoko, hugging his rifle as though he loved it. there was lianza of the brazen throat, and lingombela the man of hard bargains, and imbono, the prudent chief of ilola, and mboyo, solemn and silent, thinking of samba. on the ground lay a number of bundles and bales, large and small. a group approached the gate from lokolobolo's hut. lokolobolo himself, and barnio, as the natives called him, came first, walking slowly side by side. behind came mr. arlington, his strong features fixed impassively. at his side was the litter of mr. dathan, borne by four negroes. "is it quite clear?" said jack to barney. "you have twenty good men here, besides another twenty of the maimed who may be of use in an emergency. batukuno will be left in command. all the rest will go with you; yes, let the boys go; they can use their knives even if they cannot throw a spear. get them all paraded an hour before dark, ladder men first. keep them as quiet as you can. wait till you hear shots in the enemy's camp; that will be the signal. then send your men out, over the stockade by the south-eastern blockhouse; they can scramble down the slope there. you had better take half of them first and form them up at the bottom. the rest can follow as soon as they see you move off. lead them at the double straight down the hill and fling them at the stockade. the second party will be just in time to support you if the first rush is checked. but there must be no check; we daren't admit the possibility. this is your job, barney." "amen, sorr. for the honour uv ould ireland and the sake uv these poor niggers i'll do me very best." "i know you will, old fellow." they grip hands, looking into each other's eyes. this may be their last good-bye. one long hand-clasp, one moment of tense emotion, then, clearing his throat, jack gives an order to his men. they stoop to their bundles, then file quietly out of the gate. each man has a package to carry, such a package as forms part of every white man's baggage in africa: one a trunk, another a gun-case, a third a canvas bag, others bales of various kinds. two strong negroes at the end of the line bear, slung on ropes, a package, strangely shapeless, and to all appearance particularly heavy. the last has gone out into the darkness. then jack turns once more. "good-bye, mr. arlington." "good-bye! success to you." "good-bye, mr. dathan." "god help you, my dear lad," says the missionary. then jack too leaves ilombekabasi, and the darkness swallows him up. towards dusk on the following evening, a party of twenty-five carriers were marching through the forest in the direction of elbel's stockaded camp. in the midst were four men carrying a litter. they followed the path leading from the river--the path along which captain van vorst had come a few days earlier. for some time they had been shadowed by a negro bearing the arms of a forest guard. they paused for a few moments to rest, and the negro, apparently satisfied by his observations, came up and accosted them. "you are the servants of mutela?" "yes, that is so. has mutela arrived?" mutela was the native name for van vorst. "oh yes! he came two or three days ago." "are we on the right road?" "certainly. the camp is but a little way beyond us. i will lead you to it. you have heavy loads." "ah! mutela is a man of riches. he has many pots, and many bottles, and very many coats for his back. and guns too; see, here is his elephant rifle. mutela is a great hunter; a great man of war." "true, he is a great man of war. yesterday he killed a woman in the fort of the inglesa. i saw it. i laughed; we all laughed; it was so funny! but who is in the litter?" "a white officer. oh yes! he is as great a man of war as mutela. but he is sick; white men so easily turn sick! and he sleeps, although it is a rough road." "aha! it is a pity he is sick. mutela will be sorry. mutela is going to kill all the men in the inglesa's fort. lokolobolo they call him. aha! we shall see how strong he is! see, there is the camp yonder through the trees." when the party were still within some yards of the gate, the scout gave a hail. it was answered by a negro whose face appeared just above the stockade. by the time the leading men reached the gate it had been thrown open by one of elbel's european subordinates, and a crowd of negro soldiers and hangers-on was collected to witness the entrance of the white officer and mutela's baggage. lepoko, who had led the file, deposited his bundle just inside the gate and burst into a roar of laughter, holding his sides and bending his body in uncontrollable mirth. he was soon surrounded by a crowd of negroes, to whom he began to relate a very funny story; how ekokoli, the daring ekokoli, had mounted a crocodile's back just below the rapids, and had a splendid ride. the comical story set the throng laughing in chorus, and they begged to hear it again. meanwhile, the rest of the carriers had filed in with their burdens, the litter had been set down, and the white officer, though so sick, stepped out quite briskly to greet the belgian, whose attention was divided between the laughing negroes and his guest. at the same time the four bearers drew out from the litter a rifle apiece--for a sick man rifles surely made an uncomfortable couch!--and also half a dozen objects which to a man of ilombekabasi would have looked suspiciously like fire-balls. from the packages which lay near the gate each of the other carriers with a single pull abstracted a mauser or an albini; while the two men who had staggered along at the end of the line under the weight of a clumsy heavy bundle dropped it in the gateway with a thud that suggested the fall of a rock rather than a carrier's ordinary load. it lay against the gate, preventing it from being closed. lepoko was already telling his story for the second time. elbel's officer, about to speak to the sick white man, who had just stepped out of the litter, suddenly hesitated, wheeled round, and with a loud cry of alarm rushed toward the centre of the camp, where, in a large tent, elbel was at that moment regaling captain van vorst with a dinner that did much credit to his native cook. his cry passed unnoticed by the delighted negroes whom lepoko was so humorously entertaining. but next moment they choked their guffaws, and, without waiting for the end of the story, scampered with more speed than grace after their white officer towards elobela's tent. what had startled them? the sick man from the litter, after one hasty glance round, had suddenly fired into the air the rifle he bore. and the carriers who seemed so tired and so glad to lay down their burdens had all at once sprung into feverish activity. dividing into two parties they had disappeared behind the huts nearest to the stockade on each side of the gateway, and if the hubbub had not been so great, an attentive listener might have heard sundry scratches that ensued upon their disappearance. but there was no one to hear. the garrison of the camp were rushing still towards the centre with loud cries; the carriers and the sick officer were no longer to be seen; and what was this? clouds of smoke, thick, acrid, suffocating, were floating on the south wind from the huts towards elobela's tent. and now the camp was in an uproar. mingled with the yells of alarm were distinct cries, "mutela!" "elobela!" "lokolobolo!" and amid all the din came ever and anon the sharp piercing bark of a dog. monsieur guillaume elbel, of the société cosmopolite du commerce du congo, had just opened a second bottle of madeira for the delectation of his guest captain van vorst, of the congo state forces. the dinner had been a good one; the captain had praised his cook, the best cook on the congo; and monsieur elbel was in better humour than he had been since the arrival of the state troops. he was even pleasantly boasting of the coming triumph at ilombekabasi, and discussing what they should do with the englishman after they had caught him, when sounds from outside so startled him that he poured the wine on to the tablecloth instead of into the glass, and interrupted himself with the sudden exclamation-"what's that?" he snatched up a rifle and hurried out, followed more slowly by his companion, who had seen too many camp quarrels to be greatly alarmed by this sudden outbreak. elbel at first could distinguish nothing in the confusion. the short dusk of a tropical evening was already becoming darkness, but he could see that crowds of men were pouring out of the huts, rushing, hustling, in a state that was very like panic. and a pungent smoke saluted his nostrils; it was drifting in great whorls northwards over the camp, and surely behind it he saw here and there little red flashes of flame. who had fired that shot which had so shaken monsieur elbel's hand? he did not know; it had been a single shot; surely the camp could not be attacked, for other shots would have followed long before this. but the moment he appeared outside the tent a volley rang out, and elbel saw that it was fired by his own men into the midst of the smoke. he was hurrying across the camp to inquire into the meaning of all this when a volley flashed from the other direction--from the very heart of the smoke. shrieks proclaimed that some of the shots had told. "fools!" cried elbel, "don't you see they're screened by the smoke, whoever they are? what's the good of firing when you can't take aim? curse that dog! i can't hear myself speak!" another volley flashed from the smoke. men were dropping on every side; there were wild rushes for cover. soon the central space was deserted, and the panic-stricken garrison fled for shelter behind the huts on the north side of the camp. while elbel and van vorst were shouting themselves hoarse in a vain attempt to stem this tide of flight, the sergeant who had opened the gate had rushed to the north side, where van vorst's contingent were quartered, and hastily got them into some sort of order, together with those of elbel's men who, having their huts on that side, has been less affected by the sudden alarm. dividing the company of about a hundred men into two parties, he sent them skirmishing forward in the spaces between the huts towards the enemy he supposed to be approaching on the east and west. that enemy, however, was not approaching. jack had fired the huts and thrown the camp into confusion; his little party was not strong enough to turn the confusion to utter rout. its smallness would be perceived if he led it into the open; his was a waiting game. the wisdom of his policy was soon proved. a sharp volley came from the men whom the belgian sergeant had got together. jack heard the man beside him groan heavily and fall to the ground; then he himself felt a stinging burning pain below the left knee. he called to his men to keep within cover, and hastily bound a handkerchief about the wound. and now the wind dropped, and the smoke which had hitherto screened his movements floated upwards. a scattering volley from the enemy reduced his band by two more men. the state troops were working round on each side of him; and the red glare from the burning huts was lighting up the whole camp. it would soon be seen how small his little company was; then one determined rush would annihilate it. less than four minutes had passed since he entered the gate; it seemed an age. would barney never come? why was he delaying? surely he had heard the signal shot; surely by this time he must have seen the ruddy glare! the enemy were regaining confidence; their cries of alarm were changed to yells of defiance. elbel and van vorst had taken command, one on each side; each was steadily moving down from the northern stockade towards the gate. barney, barney, will you never come? hark! what is that? the cries of the enemy are suddenly drowned in a babel of yells behind them. they halt, amazed; van vorst shouts an order; the men wheel round and dash northwards, leaving only a few to watch the rear. the belgian sees now the meaning of this daring scheme. what has he to gain by routing the little band behind? before him is pandemonium; a whole host must be upon him; here is the danger to be met. but he is too late! "lokolobolo! lokolobolo!" two hundred voices roar the name. and lokolobolo himself sees a portion of the northern stockade black with moving figures, and rifle barrels, spear heads, gleaming red in the light of the flaming huts. towards him rushes the greater part of the garrison, their first fright trebled. these guards of the forest can fight unarmed despairing rubber collectors, but their hearts are as water when the villagers prove to be men. let the men in uniform, the clad soldiers of bula matadi, fight if they will; this is no place for forest guards; the gate! the gate! van vorst's handful of more disciplined men present a bolder front to the enemy. but it would need many times the number he can muster to break the wave of exultant warriors now swarming over the stockade. there is barney! jack sees him drop to the ground, brandishing in one hand a rifle, an ancient cutlass in the other. "hurroo! hurroo!" he shouts. a second, no more, and then the crest of the wave breaks over the stockade into the camp. "barnio! lokolobolo!" with a great roar the men of ilombekabasi follow their leader. they are already sweeping the garrison like sea-wrack before them, when another wave comes tumbling behind, the shrill cries of boys mingling with the deeper shouts of the men. see, they come, furiously, irresistibly! and who is this? a tall white-clad figure springs over with the movement of a hurdle-racer. it is mr. arlington himself, stirred for the nonce out of his habitual calmness, caught up and carried away in this roaring current. the enemy fire once, then, though van vorst may rave and storm, they turn their backs and flee helter-skelter for the gate. "lokobololo! barnio!" the tempestuous war-cries pursue them. struggling, yelling, they converge to the narrow gateway. it is jammed, wedged tight with human forms, squeezed by the presence of the frantic crowd behind into a solid mass of feebly struggling wretches lost to all consciousness but that of a great fear. the weaker men fall and are trampled to death; the stronger push and pull, and scramble over the fallen, mad with fright. some win through or over, and rush with blind haste into the forest. others, despairing of escape by that one constricted outlet, climb the palisade. some impale themselves on the sharp-pointed stakes, and, hapless benefactors! serve as gangways for their comrades who follow. seeing the utter rout of the enemy, jack had already ordered his men to cease fire. his end was gained; he had no lust for useless slaughter. but although makoko and lingombela and the rest with him loyally obeyed, nothing could check the storming party. they heard nothing, saw nothing, but the enemy in front. not one of them but had a father, or mother, a wife or child, to avenge--a ruined home, a blasted life. as well attempt to bridle the whirlwind as this infuriate flood. on and on they pressed, past the spot where jack held his men in leash; and as they ran they shot and stabbed, yelling "barnio! lokolobolo!" and as they were accustomed to receive no mercy, so now, in this hour of retribution, they gave none. as jack made his way towards the gateway, hoping to do something to ensure quarter for the fleeing wretches, he caught sight of a figure crawling painfully forth from a burning hut. at one moment he recognized the man and the man him. "nando!" he cried. "sabe me, massa!" "getaway to the other end. wait for me there. any other men in the hut?" "no, massa, no! only me!" but as he turned to run jack heard the bark which ever and anon had struck his ears during these full minutes, and felt a tug at his coat. the cloth, already tattered, gave way; but pat caught his trousers, then ran a little way ahead, then back again, then once more towards the burning hut. tearing off his coat, jack wrapped it round his head and dashed in. the smoke was so dense that nothing could be seen save here and there spurts of flame. scarcely able to breathe he flung himself on the ground and began to grope round the right of the hut. by and by his hands touched a human body, and then the shaggy coat of the terrier. lifting the body in both arms he staggered with it to the entrance, guided by the dog's barks. he gasped and drew long breaths when once again he came into the open air; but as he laid his burden upon the ground he stumbled and fell beside it, sick and dizzy. [illustration: samba rescued from the burning hut] he was unconscious but for a few moments. when he came to himself and sat up, he saw that samba lay in his father's arms. mboyo was sobbing, rocking his body to and fro, murmuring endearing words. pat was stretched beside him, his eyes fixed on samba, his ears pricked forward. "he dies, o lokolobolo!" said mboyo piteously, seeing jack rise. "no, no! get water! take him to the other end of the camp. i will come to you when i can." jack hurried off. many of the huts were blazing; now that the fire had done its part it must be checked, or the stores and ammunition which would be invaluable in ilombekabasi would be destroyed. collecting such of the men as had not dashed out of the camp in pursuit of the enemy, jack set them to beat out the flames where they could, and to demolish one or two of the still unburnt huts that were most in danger of catching fire. luckily the wind had dropped; there was little risk of sparks or cinders flying through the air. then he set some of the boys to make torches, and by their light he surveyed the camp. he shuddered as he passed over the scene of the disastrous flight and pursuit. the forms of dead and wounded lay scattered over the ground. he ordered nando and other of mr. martindale's carriers who had been left in the camp to attend the wounded as well as they were able, and sternly forbade the despatching of those of the enemy who were still alive but unable through injuries to escape. then he went towards the gate. it was with a shock that he saw, amid the black bodies crushed to death in the gateway, the white-clad form of van vorst. in that terrible struggle for precedence the white man's skin had not saved him. but he was the only european left in the camp; jack looked for elbel and his subordinate; they were nowhere to be seen. complete darkness had settled over the country, and put a stop to the pursuit. jack's men began to return, at first in ones and twos, by and by in groups that grew larger as the night drew on. they came laughing and singing; once more elobela, even aided by mutela, had been beaten by lokolobolo. what a night it was for the men of ilombekabasi! and barnio!--was it not barnio who had led them to the stockade with that wild war-cry of his? they must not forget barnio! and lianza made a song as he marched back to the camp: barnio! barnio! down from the forty from ilombekabasi, dashed in the night, sought elobela, cruel mutela. hurroo! hurroo! barnio leads, after him black men, hundreds and thousands, sweep like the wind, rage like the torrent, over the wall. hurroo! hurroo! big clouds of smoke, forests of flame, into the midst, barnio! barnio! over the wall, into the camp, straight for the gate barnio rushes, after him black men. hurroo! in the gate thousands of black men, only one white man, cruel mutela! ha! he will never, never whip black men, never kill women, never kill children, laugh again never! dead is mutela! why do we sing? why do we laugh? whom do we praise? barnio! barnio! lokolobolo! friends of imbono, friends of the black men of ilombekabasi. hurroo! begorra! chapter xxx sinews of war barney came back to the camp tired out. following up the only party that seemed to have cohesion after leaving the fort--a party led by the belgian sergeant--he had soon found himself left far behind in the race. but his men had done their work thoroughly; they had dispersed the band, few of whom escaped. "'twas for this i was born, sorr," said barney as he gripped jack's hand. "sure i'll be a fighter for iver more." "you did splendidly, old fellow. i knew all was well when i heard your hurroo! but there are five hundred men roaming the country and only a score of able-bodied men in our fort. we must look after that. get fifty fellows together and send them back under imbono, barney." "and what'll ye be afther doing yourself, sorr?" "oh! i'm going down to the river. the job's only half done while that flotilla is intact. i'm going to have a shot at it before the enemy get over their fright. i'll take a couple of hundred men with me. you'll keep a hundred and remove all the stores and ammunition here to the fort; get the women and children to help; you can light the way with flares. when the camp's empty burn it. and look after samba, barney; he's here, nearly dead, poor little chap! mboyo's got him; we'll go and see how he is getting on." making their way to the north side of the camp they found samba laid on the floor of a hut, his father on one side of him, pat on the other. the dog leapt up excitedly when he saw his master, and invited him with a yelp to come and see samba. by the light of a torch barney tenderly examined the boy. he was conscious, and smiled, even though he winced under the gentlest of touches. "ochone! ochone!" exclaimed barney. "'tis the divil's own work, sorr. his poor flesh is wan jelly. by all the holy powers, if i catch that murdering ruff'n uv a fellow, that elbel--- and i've no ointment at all at all. bedad! but now i remimber mr. arlington has a whole docthor's shop in wan uv his traps, and if he hasn't got boracic ointment among his stuff, sure i'll think a mighty deal less uv him. 'twill take a month or more, sorr, to heal all the wounds on this poor body; but we'll do it, plase god! and make a man of him yet." "he dies, o lokolobolo?" said mboyo, looking up yearningly into jack's face. "no, barnio says no. he is very ill, but in a month he may be well, and barnio says he is going to make a man of him." "bolotsi o! bolotsi o!" cried the negro, slapping his thighs. "n'dok 'olo aiyoko!"[1] he laughed and clapped his hands like a child. "it was pat that showed me where samba was," said jack to barney. "nando was tied up in a hut with him--he must have been captured with dear old uncle--and the wretch saved himself by burning his ropes through and left samba to perish in the flames. pat dragged me to the spot." "the darlint is worth his weight in gold," cried barney delighted. "that's twice he has saved samba, sorr. black men and white men are brothers, or ought to be, and there's niver a doubt that dogs are cousins at the very least. and beggin' your pardon, sorr, i'll take a pleasure in kicking nando whin i get a look uv him. 'tis a little military discipline he needs, to be sure." "you can give him that in the fort. and by the way, you'll find a lot of rifles here; the enemy either hadn't time to get hold of them or else threw them away. arm some of our spearmen; they can tell the muzzle from the stock at any rate, and if any attempt is made to rush the fort they could do a good deal of damage at close quarters. and keep scouts out. we don't know the exact whereabouts of van vorst's main body, and it won't do to risk anything. but i hope you won't have any trouble." bidding barney farewell, jack called up makoko and lingombela, and sent them out with orders to discover the exact position of the flotilla, and to return at daybreak. an hour afterwards, with a hundred and fifty picked spearmen, sixty rifles, and a body of carriers with food for three days, he began a night march to the river. he himself was unable to walk. his wound was becoming more and more painful, but he had said nothing about it to barney, being resolved not to spare himself while anything remained to be done to complete his work. four men, relieved at frequent intervals, carried him in the litter of which he had made such effective use to gain an entrance to the enemy's camp. this time, he thought with a smile, there was no pretence about it. he guessed that van vorst's flotilla would be found about half way between ilola and the spot where mr. martindale's canoes had been hidden. it was one day's march across country, a much longer distance by the river. for some hours he followed the path on which his uncle and he had been escorted by the askari. the recollection of that march brought sad thoughts to his mind. lying in the litter amid his men, as the column wound its slow way along the forest track, the red glare of their torches throwing weird shadows around, he had plenty of time for melancholy reflections. the incidents of his uncle's last days were burnt into his memory. he remembered the drawn, wasted features, now pale with exhaustion, now bright with the hectic flush of fever; the quick uneasy breath; the slow labouring voice. he remembered the tale of persecution and wrong. more than all he remembered the earnest, passionate words in which the dying man had bequeathed to him the cause of the congo natives, and besought him to use his utmost strength on their behalf. "dear old uncle!" he thought; "i am trying to do what you would have wished me to do. i can't do much; this is only a small corner of the plague-ridden country; how many thousands of poor people are without even such help as i can give! but it will be something if only the few hundreds in ilombekabasi can regain and keep a little of their former happiness; and uncle would be pleased; he is pleased, if he knows." then the other side of the picture stood out sharply to his mental view. he saw the fleeing crowds of the enemy; the jammed gateway; the camp enclosure strewn with dead and wounded. once or twice, even, his marching column came upon wounded men, too weak to crawl away into the bush, and he could do nothing for them. this terrible loss of life, this misery--was not this too due to the evil government of a monarch who, far away, in wealth and luxury and ease, spoke with two voices--one the voice of beneficence, benignity, zeal for peace and good order; the other the voice of greed, avarice, the callous demand for riches even at the price of blood? "botofé bo le iwa! rubber is death!"--the woful proverb haunted him like a knell: death to the dwellers in this well-favoured land, death to the minions of the power that oppressed them, death to those who, like his uncle, dared to make a stand for freedom and found themselves engulfed in the whirlpool of injustice and wrong. as jack approached the river, these gloomy thoughts gave way to the necessities of the moment. lepoko, leading the column, announced that the river was very near. then jack ordered the torches to be put out, and the men to creep forward even more silently than they had already done. had news of the storming of the camp been carried, he wondered, by fugitives to the flotilla? since they had left the direct path to the river and struck obliquely towards it there had been no sign of fugitives. he supposed that the scared enemy had kept to the route they knew, and would follow the river bank until they reached the canoes. this involved many extra miles through the winding of the stream, unless the flotilla had come farther up than he thought was likely. the principal danger was that some of elbel's scouts, knowing the country better than the majority of the garrison, might already have taken the short cut jack was now taking and would reach the flotilla before him. there were two white officers in charge; they might set off at once to the relief of their superior and reach the fort while jack was still absent. would barney be strong enough to hold out against them? the march was continued with brief rests throughout the night. shortly after dawn a man sprang panting out of the thicket to the right of the path, and hurried to jack's litter. "o lokolobolo!" he cried, "i have news!" jack saw that it was lofundo, sub-chief of akumbi. "it was in the smoke and the flame, lokolobolo. i saw elobela, with fear in his face, climb over the fence and rush out into the night. after him i sprang--i, and bolumbu, and iloko, and others. it was elobela, the cruel, the pitiless! after him, into the night! but first iloko tired, then bolumbu, then the others. i, lofundo, i did not tire; no; was it not elobela whose men ill-used and slew my people and burnt my village, and who with his own hands flogged my son? i ran and ran, hot on his trail, and in the morning light i came up with him, and saw him with fear in his face; and i had my knife; and now elobela is dead, yonder, in the forest." "is it far, lofundo?" "a little march in the forest, lokolobolo." jack had himself carried to the spot. there, beneath a tree, covered with felled branches and leaves to protect it from beasts, lay the stark body of guillaume elbel. jack could not help pitying the wretch whose zeal in an evil cause had brought him to so miserable an end. but as he thought of the misery this man had caused--the ruined homes, the desolated lives: as he remembered his uncle, lying in his lonely grave, and samba, lacerated by this man's cruel whip, pity froze within him. "cover him up," he said. he waited while his men buried elbel, there at the foot of the tree. "let us go!" he said; "we have work to do." when jack's column, according to lepoko, was still an hour's march from the river, lingombela, one of the advance scouts, came back with a negro in his grasp. he had captured him, said lingombela, as he was running from the river into the forest. jack questioned the man through lepoko. he said that his name was bandoka, and he had been a paddler in mutela's flotilla, and had suffered many times from the chicotte; he showed the marks on his back. just after daybreak several men had come rushing madly into the clearing on the river bank where the soldiers of bula matadi had halted for the night. there was great confusion in the camp. he had heard it said among the paddlers that there had been a fight up the river at the inglesa's fort, and that the men of elobela had been badly beaten. the paddlers had already heard the name of lokolobolo. the fugitives said that mutela was sorely in need of help, and the white officer had at once started up the river in swift canoes, with most of the fighting men, leaving the rest to follow with the carriers. in the confusion attending the departure of the force with three days' stores, bandoka had contrived to slip away into the forest. he would rather brave anything than endure further service with bula matadi. jack's first thought on hearing this news was that it simplified his position. the congo officers had two days' journey before them; it was strange if he, with his lightly equipped force of men thoroughly acquainted with the country, knowing the short cuts through the forest, the fordable places on the river, could not do much to impede and harass their advance. but on subsequent reflection a still bolder course suggested itself to him. was it possible to cut off the main body from its stores? the fighting men under their white commander had already started up the river; the stores would follow more slowly; jack's line of march would strike the river at a point between the two portions of the enemy's force. if he could capture the stores, would he not have the main body at his mercy? "how many fighting men are left to escort the canoes?" he asked. "him say no can tell. he run away plenty soon; plenty much nise, all talk one time." in the absence of precise information jack could only conjecture. the news brought by the fugitive from elbel's camp was such that a force despatched in support would probably consist of at least two-thirds of the available combatant strength. the officer must be aware that a body of men that could defeat elbel with his seven hundred mixed troops could scarcely be met with less than two hundred and fifty rifles. no doubt he would expect to be joined by some of elbel's men; the full magnitude of the disaster would hardly be known; and like any other white commander he would be inclined to discount the alarmist reports of the fugitives. it would be safe to assume, thought jack, that not more than a hundred rifles had been left with the stores. how many of the paddlers were also fighting men, how many impressed like bandoka, it was impossible to guess. "bandoka is sure the white officers are not coming through the forest?" he asked, as the bare chance of meeting them occurred to him. "sartin sure, massa. dey come in boats. bandoka he fit to paddle in white man's canoe. 'no, no,' he say; 'me no like dat. white man lib for go too fast; me know what dat mean; dat mean chicotte!' den he run away, sah." "well, i wish i knew a little more about the men with the stores." "know plenty more one time," said lepoko, pointing ahead. "dat am makoko." makoko, a scout in a thousand, had brought just the news jack most desired. he had counted the fighting men on the canoes: there were a hundred and ten with rifles and more than two hundred with spears. on each cargo canoe there was a rifleman--to encourage the paddlers, thought jack. the flotilla had just started when makoko left the river, at least two hours after the main body had left. one white officer had gone with the swift canoes, a second remained with the stores. the line of boats was headed by two large war canoes, each containing twenty riflemen besides the paddlers; and two similar canoes similarly manned brought up the rear. it was clear to jack that the enemy was doing everything possible to hasten progress. but the canoes were heavily laden, and the paddlers had the stream against them. meanwhile barney must be warned of the approaching expedition. jack was not anxious about the fate of the fort. behind the walls barney's hundred and twenty riflemen and three times as many spearmen could easily hold their own. the enemy's machine gun, a deadly weapon in the open, would be of little use against stone walls. so, confident in barney's ability to sit tight, jack sent lingombela back through the forest to give him timely notice of the troops coming towards him by the river. the arrangements made by the officer in charge of the convoy of stores, as reported by makoko, were well enough adapted for progress through a country in which the natives, even if hostile, were armed only with bows and arrows or spears. by keeping in mid-stream the canoes were practically out of danger from the banks, and an enemy on the water could be effectively dealt with by the leading canoes, carrying a strong force of riflemen armed with albinis. the similar force acting as a rearguard discouraged any tendency on the part of the crews of the store-boats to bolt down stream. and each canoe had a forest guard ready with a chicotte to stimulate the paddlers' zeal. jack felt sure that by setting an ambush at a suitable point he could produce a panic among the guards and paddlers almost as effectual for his purpose as the panic in elbel's camp. but he had a not unnatural shrinking from such a course. an ambuscade--concealing oneself to shoot another man down--went against the grain with him. he knew that it was fair by all the rules of warfare, and warfare had been thrust upon him by the state troops. but he preferred if possible to attain his end by other means, involving the minimum of bloodshed and suffering. the scenes in elbel's camp and in the forest were too fresh in his memory for him to court a repetition of this wholesale destruction, even of the savages who wore the uniform of king leopold. the disposition of the enemy's forces suggested a plan whereby his end might be gained with little or no serious fighting. if the plan failed there still remained the alternative of an attack in force on the long-drawn-out line of the flotilla. he had noticed, when coming up the river to ilola with his uncle, that, about half a day's paddling from the flotilla's point of departure, the channel was divided by a small island. only on the near side was the river navigable at this season, even by canoes; on the other side the channel was wide but shallow, thickly beset by sandbanks. by striking to the left and taking a short cut through the forest known to makoko, the river bank opposite this island could be reached in two hours' hard marching. there would still be a good margin of time to make all necessary arrangements for carrying out his plan before the head of the convoy came into view. the men had already had a couple of hours' rest; the worst of their fatigue after the night march was gone; there was now no time to be lost, and jack gave the order to move off under makoko's lead. before midday the troops were halted opposite the island, a lozenge-shaped eyot about a third of a mile in length and a hundred yards across, covered with rank vegetation and patched with one or two clumps of large trees. on reaching the spot jack left his litter to superintend the men's work, in spite of his stiff leg. he posted scouts in each direction, up and down the river, to guard against surprise, then set the men to cut a large number of tough creepers which abounded in the forest, and by twisting and knotting the tendrils to make a rope about eighty yards long. while this was being done with marvellous speed by the expert negroes, a few saplings were uprooted and lashed together to form a raft, too slight indeed for serious navigation, but strong enough to convey a few men at a time across the river. when the rope was finished one end was taken across to the eyot and firmly secured to one of the large trees; the other end was left for the present loose. the place where the rope entered the water on each side was carefully screened from view, and a few stones attached to it at intervals sank it beneath the surface of the stream. jack directed the work untiringly, encouraging the workers with praise. "bravo!" he cried, when all was done. "now we'll have some chop, lepoko." "plenty hungry, massa," returned the man. "men all want to know somefing, massa." "well, what is it?" "dey say: 'lokolobolo make us do plenty fings. what for? we lib for do anyfing for lokolobolo; no fit to know what for.' dat am what dey say, sah." jack smiled. "well, lepoko, i'll tell you in confidence, and i know it won't go any further. we're going to see an exhibition of swimming." "me no like big talk like dat," said lepoko, looking puzzled. "here's little talk, then. men no want to swim; we want to see them swim. savvy?" "me know all 'bout dat, sah," cried lepoko delighted, and he went off to tell the men, jack smiling at their satisfaction with an explanation that explained so little. the whole force had a meal, keeping almost perfect silence in obedience to an impressive order from jack. they were concealed within the forest fringe. when the meal was finished a dozen men with rifles were sent across to hide themselves amid the vegetation on the island, and all waited with rifles ready. presently the scout from down stream came running up with the news that the leading canoes of the flotilla were approaching a bend in the river half a mile below the eyot. the paddlers, who had apparently had a meal and a rest, were sending the canoes along at a good rate. jack bade twelve of his men grasp the rope of creepers, and stand ready to pull when he gave the word. there was dead silence among the troops. they heard the enemy drawing near--the songs of the paddlers, the chatter of the fighting men, occasionally a yell as the chicotte fell with stinging force upon a paddler's back. jack watched from his coign of vantage in the bush. there were the two war canoes as makoko had described them; in the second of them was a white officer. they passed the eyot. then came the store canoes, one after another, keeping about the same distance apart. jack forgot to count them, for he was beyond measure delighted to see in one of them the shield of the machine gun. "what luck! what tremendous luck!" he thought. "where the shield is the gun is sure to be." the last of the store canoes passed. then, at a little longer interval than separated the store canoes, came the first war canoe of the rearguard, the second about a boat's length behind. jack signed to his twelve men to be ready. watching carefully the point at which the rope entered the water and the point on the opposite side where it reached the eyot, he waited for the first of the war canoes to approach the line. the nose of the vessel was within two or three yards of the rope when he gave his men the signal. with desperate energy the twelve sturdy negroes hauled on the rope. jack could not have timed the movement more fortunately. as the rope became taut and rose to the surface it struck the bottom of the canoe about a fourth of its length from the bow. the united pull of the twelve men lifted the forepart of the vessel bodily from the water; the stern dipped under, and in a moment the canoe filled and its occupants were struggling in the water. at any other time such a feat would have provoked yells of triumph from the performers. it was a tribute to jack's discipline that his men made no other sound than a grunt of satisfaction, which must be entirely smothered by the shouts of the men in the water. and at a word from jack they rushed at full speed down stream with the rope, holding it a few inches above the gunwale level of the last canoe, the crew of which were frantically back-paddling to escape the mysterious fate of the other. but the paddlers had not got into their swing when the rope, stretched tight between the fastening on the eyot and the running men, overtook them. it caught them about the knees; they were swept from the thwarts, and fell towards the opposite bank; and the sudden weight on the starboard side turned the canoe completely over. not half a minute from the time when jack gave the first sign the whole of the rearguard was out of action. in mortal dread of crocodiles the men swam desperately for the banks, some on one side, some on the other; but as they landed they fell an easy prey to jack's men, and were promptly hauled into the forest and tied up. but while they were still in the water the news of the disaster had been communicated with marvellous rapidity from canoe to canoe, and reached the head of the flotilla and the white officer. standing up and lifting his field glass to his eyes he could just see, over the intervening vessels, a capsized canoe, a number of men swimming in the river, and others moving on the bank. there was no sign of the cause of the disaster. the paddlers indeed were shouting "lokolobolo! lokolobolo!" in accents of terror; but the name appeared to convey nothing to the lieutenant, who was disposed to attribute the upset to a hippopotamus or a snag. certainly it was causing a great deal of confusion in the flotilla, and some of the paddlers, the rearguard being removed, seemed inclined to turn their canoes and head down stream. it was very annoying. shouting to the men in the leading war canoe to paddle just enough to keep their vessel stationary against the stream, the lieutenant hurried to the scene of the accident. on the way the shouts of the paddlers became more coherent; what was this they were saying? ilombekabasi? absurd! but it was as well to prepare for anything that might occur, so the officer ordered his men to be ready to fire when he gave the word. at present he saw nobody to fire at. his canoe was going rapidly on the current towards the eyot when a volley flashed from the undergrowth on the right bank, and he heard the shots strike the side of his vessel. the effect of the discharge at a range of only thirty yards was instantaneous. jack had ordered his men to aim at or near the waterline; not a man had been hit; but the paddlers waited for no more. with one accord they sprang overboard and swam for the nearest shore, that of the eyot. one or two of the soldiers replied to the volley, aiming hap-hazard at the bank; the rest awaited the order of their officer, who, however, was either dazed by the unexpected attack or unwilling to waste ammunition by aimless firing into the bush. the boat meanwhile was drifting down the stream: a second volley bored another score of tiny holes in the thin side. the occupants were without paddlers or paddles; they had no means of beaching the vessel; and jack, watching her progress, felt that it was only a question of minutes before, riddled like a sieve, she would have shipped enough water to sink her. then the occupants, officer and men, would share the fate of their comrades. he sent makoko with twenty rifles and twice as many spearmen to the nearest point where the hapless party might be expected to land; and at the same time he despatched a band of the same size up river to deal with the war canoe, which had by this time gone out of sight. in a few minutes the lieutenant and his men struggled one after another up the bank. those who retained their weapons were unable to use them, for they were dripping wet. jack's men dealt with them as with the others, leaving the white officer, however, unbound. him they led to jack, who commiserated the crestfallen man on his unfortunate plight, and promised him excellent treatment if he made no attempt to escape. for some time jack's party had made no further effort to conceal themselves. the store canoes had been moving aimlessly about the river, the paddlers not knowing whether to go ahead or to retreat. at jack's bidding lepoko now ordered them to beach their vessels, promising that lokolobolo would protect them, and, if they pleased, would take them into his service. they obeyed with alacrity, and soon the whole of the stores and the machine gun were in jack's possession. he wondered why the latter had not been taken up the river with the main body, and questioning the officer, learnt that in the haste and confusion one of the parts of the gun could not be found, and but for the delay in searching for it he himself would have arrived an hour or more earlier. the capture of the convoy had been effected so quickly that jack felt there might still be time by a forced march to reach the fort before the arrival of the enemy's main column. hastily selecting from the stores such food and other articles as he urgently needed, and taking care to bring with him the machine gun, he made instant preparations to return. he placed makoko in charge of the flotilla, with a body of thirty riflemen and eighty spearmen, ordering him to drop down the river half a day's paddling and await further instructions. he arranged for a chain of messengers to keep up communication between makoko and himself; then he set out with the bulk of his force for ilombekabasi, sending a scout to order the men who had gone up river to join him across country as soon as they had captured the only remaining canoe. [1] now i am well. chapter xxxi summons and surrender two days after, on a strip of open ground half-way between ilombekabasi and elbel's ruined camp, a group of six negroes were assembled. three of them were in the uniform of the state troops; the other three were lepoko, imbono, and mboyo. all were unarmed. in the midst of the group were two rough chairs such as were used by native chiefs. the southern wall of ilombekabasi was thronged with men, women, and children eagerly surveying the scene; lower down the hill the state troops, in a rude encampment hastily constructed on the previous day, were drawn up in orderly ranks, and gazed north with equal intentness. all at once a great cry of "lokolobolo!" rent the air, and floated down the hill from the fort to the camp. no answering shout met it. but an officer in white left the camp and walked slowly up the slope. at the same time a tall figure in tattered garments of european cut limped out of the fort, and moved downwards. the group of negroes fell apart as the white men arrived. the latter touched their helmets in military salute; and the younger of the two smilingly motioned to the elder to seat himself on one of the chairs, he himself taking the other. they sat facing each other, and the negroes moved a few paces back on each side. the two men formed a strange contrast: the one, a tall slim young fellow not yet nineteen, his bronzed face clean shaved, showing firm well-cut lips and an obstinate kind of chin; his nose prominent, his brown eyes large and searching, his hair black as night and somewhat unruly; not a handsome face, but a strong one, worth looking at twice and not easily forgotten: the other nearly as tall, but much broader and more stiffly built; some ten years older; lips and chin concealed by thick brown moustache and beard, blue irritable eyes blinking through big spectacles under fierce and shaggy brows. "instead of replying to your summons to surrender, monsieur jennaert," said jack slowly in his best french, "i thought it better to meet you, so that we might clearly understand each other. i am obliged to you for so readily agreeing to my proposal." the belgian bowed. "yours, monsieur, is the third or fourth summons of the same kind. monsieur elbel summoned us----" "where is monsieur elbel, monsieur?" "monsieur elbel, monsieur, is dead." lieutenant jennaert started. "dead, monsieur?" "yes, he was pursued into the forest by a man whose son he had thrashed, whose relatives his men had maimed and butchered, whose village he had burned. the man killed him. well, as i was about to say, monsieur elbel summoned us more than once. at first he was much stronger than we were, both in arms and men. but when he began to back his summons by force of arms he failed,--more than once. as you know, four days ago we captured his camp for the second time and dispersed his troops, largely with the aid of rifles which had once been his." "yes, i know that," said lieutenant jennaert somewhat impatiently. "but monsieur elbel was not a trained soldier, and his men were only forest guards. i did not come to hear of your exploits, monsieur, but to receive your surrender. i am a soldier; my men are state troops; the case is different." "quite so, monsieur. i appreciate the difference between his men and yours. but you will pardon my pointing out that you are in a far more critical position than monsieur elbel before his camp was stormed." "you think so, monsieur?" said the officer with an amused smile. "would it be indiscreet to ask your reasons?" "not at all. i wish to be entirely frank. it is to the interest of us both." "assuredly, monsieur." lieutenant jennaert's smile was now quite indulgent. he was at first inclined to be peremptory with this young man, who appeared to presume on the victories he had obtained over a company's official, and a captain taken at a disadvantage, and never particularly competent, in his subordinate's opinion. but the young fellow was certainly very polite; why not humour him by letting him talk? so jennaert smiled again. the other continued-"well, monsieur, what is the position? take mine first. you see before you a fortified camp, difficult of approach, as monsieur elbel could have told you, and as you can judge for yourself; well provisioned, and with a good water supply; garrisoned by four hundred or more well-armed men--all now provided with albinis or mausers, and a machine gun." the officer started. "a machine gun?" "yes--a machine gun." "monsieur elbel made no mention of a machine gun." "no, it is a new acquisition. but if you would like to assure yourself on the point i can convince you." the officer hesitated. jack turned to lepoko. "run up and tell mr. barney to show the big gun on the blockhouse." lepoko ran away. "it is very hot, monsieur," said jack pleasantly. "the rains, i am told by my friends the chiefs here, are long overdue. i am afraid you would have found your journey rather more difficult if it had been a little later, with the river in flood.--ah! there it is!" a number of men had hoisted the gun on to the edge of the parapet, in full view of the group below. "you see, monsieur, we are well provided. a machine gun, you will admit, is even more useful within walls than without. now as to your position. you have under your command some three hundred men trained--more or less. whether as a military force they are better than our men can only be decided if unfortunately you determine to put the matter to the test. but consider your risks. two days ago we captured your stores."--the officer jumped.--"your rearguard is in our hands, and that was your machine gun."--the officer stared.--"you are at least three weeks from your base, with perhaps two days' provisions in hand, no reserve of ammunition, and, as i said, the rains overdue. yonder country, during the rains, is a swamp." lieutenant jennaert turned pale. his messengers sent back to hurry on the dilatory convoy had strangely failed to return. but recovering himself, with a feeble attempt to smile he said-"you are joking, monsieur. you permit yourself a ruse. ah! ah! i am not to be entrapped in that way." "pardon me, monsieur. you shall have the fullest assurance as to the truth of what i am saying. lepoko, ask mr. barney to send out the white officer." the belgian was now looking very uncomfortable. this was a strange turning of the tables; his summons to surrender had been completely forgotten. jack had no need to kill time by keeping up the conversation, for in a minute or two the lieutenant captured in the river left the fort under an armed guard and walked quickly down. "beuzemaker!" exclaimed lieutenant jennaert under his breath. "yes, monsieur--monsieur beuzemaker." lieutenant beuzemaker smiled ruefully as he joined the group. he gave a rapid narrative of the capture of the convoy. "it only remains, therefore," said jack, "for you to decide upon your course, monsieur. may i make you a proposal? you shall surrender your arms and ammunition except a dozen rifles. i will supply you with canoes to take your men down the river, and provisions for a fortnight. within ten days you should enter a district where more food can be obtained. as you know, the country hereabouts has been made almost a desert by your people." but this was too much. was it he, lieutenant jennaert, who was being called upon to surrender? he rose in a fury. "never! the thing is absurd! monsieur, i take my leave. beuzemaker!----" he stopped, biting his lips. "monsieur beuzemaker is my prisoner," said jack suavely, rising. "he will accompany me back to my camp. of course, if you accept our terms, we will release all the prisoners." the belgian turned away in a rage. the meeting broke up; the two parties went their several ways. jack, as he walked back to the fort, hoped that on thinking the matter over the officer would see the wisdom of compliance. the alternative was starvation. he must see that it would be no easy matter to storm the fort, and that jack had only to sit tight for a few days. the state troops, none too well disciplined at the best, would soon be clamouring for food. with a starving soldiery, an active well-fed enemy on his rear, and a swarm of scouts cutting off his foraging parties, he must see the impossibility of making his way back through several hundred miles of country inhabited by tribes only waiting an opportunity to rise against their oppressors. so that when barney met him as he re-entered the fort, and asked eagerly, "well, sorr, and did the patient swallow the pill?" he smiled as he shook his head, saying-"not yet, barney. but he _will_ swallow it, bitter as it is." "or his men will swallow him, bedad!" and a few hours later a negro soldier marched up the hill with a white flag. lieutenant jennaert's note was very brief. monsieur,-j'agrée vos conditions. jennaert, _lieutenant dans l'armée de l'état du congo_. chapter xxxii the dawn of freedom it was a fortnight later. ilombekabasi was the scene of great activity. gangs of negroes were busy carrying, hauling, stones of all shapes and sizes from the dry bed of the stream that once flowed past the fort; other gangs were building a wall above the original northern wall of the fort, a few yards beyond the spring whence the water supply was derived. on the cultivable land on the west and east men and women were digging, ploughing, planting, hoeing, for in some parts seed sown only two weeks before was already sprouting. barney o'dowd superintended the mason work, sporting a red fez taken from one of the slain askari and dry-cleaned by a process of his own. in his mouth was his old short clay pipe, in which, after long deprivation, he was smoking a mixture made by himself from tobacco grown on a bed in front of his hut. it was not shag, he said, nor twist, but it made a betther smoke than cavendish, and sure 'twould give a man a little comfort till the rale thing could be grown. the agriculturists were directed by imbono. an air of cheerful industry pervaded the whole settlement. when the state troops under lieutenant jennaert had disappeared, jack determined, after a breathing space, to enlarge the fort and to plant new crops. the enlargement was prompted not merely by the wish to have the source of the water supply within the wall, but by the expectation that the defeat of bula matadi would cause an increase of the population. and, in fact, within a week of jennaert's departure, natives from distant parts to which the news had penetrated came flocking into ilombekabasi to join the community which looked up to lokolobolo as its invincible chief. looking round upon the cheerful faces of the people; observing their willingness to work, and eagerness to please; watching the happy family life they led when unmolested and free from anxieties, jack felt that his toil had not been in vain, and was immeasurably glad that providence had laid this charge upon him. if only his uncle had lived to see this day! jack found that his feelings were shared by mr. arlington and his friend the missionary. they had awaited the issue of his hazardous enterprise with more anxiety than they cared to admit, and while they hailed his success with cordial congratulations, they were scarcely less troubled about the future. the congo state could not permit this leaven of revolt to spread; it would certainly organize an expeditionary force of sufficient strength to crush jack and his people; and then would not their lot be infinitely worse than it had ever been? "even so we shall have had some months of happiness, and set an example," said jack, talking things over with his friends the day before they left ilombekabasi. "but i hope for better things. we may have the rains upon us any day now; the country for miles around will be one vast morass; we shall be safe in our castle for six months, perhaps. and what may not be done in six months, mr. arlington?" "you mean?" "i mean if you and mr. dathan will hurry home and tell what you have seen and know. mr. arlington, you are no longer a member of parliament, i believe?" "no. the house of commons is no longer what it was." "surely it is what men like you choose to make it, sir. if you would go home, stand at a bye-election, and return to the house, what an immense influence a man with your record might wield! do you know what i would do in your place, sir? you do not mind my speaking out?" "not a bit. i am deeply interested." "well, sir, i would badger the foreign secretary; i would move the country until england moved the world." "go on the stump like gladstone?" "why not, sir? isn't the cause of the negroes every bit as good as the cause of the bulgarians or macedonians or armenians? nay, ten times better, because they're more helpless and suffer under a christian king! and you would succeed, sir." "i haven't gladstone's power of moving the masses." "what does that matter? the facts don't need any eloquence to back them, sir. i don't mean that you are not eloquent," he added with a smile. "i haven't heard you speak, but i have read your speeches; and if you tell what you have seen here, the country must listen, and something will surely be done. why, if you go to my old school and speak to the fellows in the schoolhouse, i'll back there's not a boy there but will want to rush off here by the first train, to lend a hand!" "upon my word, mr. challoner, i think you'd better come back with us and do the stumping yourself." "no, no," said jack, his face flushing. "i cannot leave these people. my place is here, and here i'll stick until i'm driven out, or until leopold is brought to book." "well, i'll do what i can. i promise you that. perhaps i've ploughed the lonely furrow long enough. what do you say, dathan? shall we join hands in this? we rowed in the same boat at trinity; we kept the head of the river. this boat's rather low down now, but d'you think we could make a bump?" "we'll make a shot for it, george. and please god, we like bishop latimer, will light such a candle in england as shall not be put out until this wrong is crushed and right is done." jack felt more than satisfied. if his countrymen had not grown strangely deaf, surely they would listen to these two--ay, and do more than listen. "you leave to-morrow?" he said. "yes. my leg won't carry me yet, but with a canoe and a litter i can make shift to get along until we reach the nyanza. can you lend me an interpreter?" "lepoko is a good fellow. i think i can spare him now. we'll see what he says." he sent for the man, and explained that he wished him to accompany the travellers during the first part of their journey. "me plenty sorry, massa," said lepoko. "me no fit to go. what for? me comfy heah! no lib for go talk talk for nudder massa. what for? nando go to boma with old massa; what den? he come back, get cotched, chicotte, feel plenty bad. no, no, sah; lepoko know all 'bout dat. lepoko go long long, do anyfing for massa; he lib for lub lokolobolo, no nudder massa dis time. why, me hab got wife in ilombekabasi; what for leabe wife? no good at all; dat what bula matadi make black man do, leabe wife, leabe pickin, go 'way all 'lone 'lone. make black man sick inside, sah; feel awful bad. no, no, i tell massa. nando go. he know inglesa plenty fine; he hab no got wife; he die of shame 'cos he leabe samba in fire hut; no one lub nando now. oh yes, sah! nando go: me tell him one time." after this breathless speech, lepoko ran off to find his brother. nando at first was by no means disposed to leave the fort on so long and hazardous a journey. but at last he was persuaded, though on bidding jack good-bye he said earnestly-"me nebber, nebber, nebber lib for hab nudder brudder what talk inglesa: oh no!" one afternoon a few days after this, one of the look-outs on the south-eastern blockhouse reported that he saw a crowd of people emerging from the forest a couple of miles away. hurrying to the spot, jack took a long look through his field-glasses and made out that the approaching throng was composed of natives, men, women, and children, the women being laden with babies and bundles. when the crowd came within earshot of the fort, a negro stepped forward, and, lifting his hands to his mouth, vociferated-"yo! yo!" "answer him, lianza," said jack to the man of the brazen throat. "i am here," shouted lianza. "is that ilombekabasi?" "it is ilombekabasi." "and lokolobolo?" "and lokolobolo." "i am lokua. my chief is makole. we come from limpoko to see lokolobolo." "lokolobolo says that makole and lokua may enter, but no more." "i am going." "are you going?" "o!" the negro returned to his company, who were now squatting in a series of circles just above the site of elbel's ruined camp. he presently returned with a negro in chief's array, a head taller than himself. the two negroes were admitted. makole stood before jack, a bundle of palm leaves in one hand. they exchanged greetings. "i am proud to see lokolobolo," said makole. "i come from limpoko. all my people have come with me, my four wives, my children, all my people. we have heard of the great things done by lokolobolo in ilombekabasi, and how he beat elobela and mutela and other servants of the great white chief who eats up the black men. we come to ask lokolobolo to let us be his people. i am makole, the chief; i have four wives and many children; but i say i will be lokolobolo's servant; all my people shall be his servants, if he will take us into ilombekabasi and let us live in peace." "why do you wish to leave limpoko?" asked jack. "we do not wish to leave limpoko. but what can we do, o lokolobolo? the rubber is done; we have no more of it; day by day the servants of the great white chief beat us and kill us because we cannot fill our baskets; limpoko will soon be a wilderness. we come before we are all gone, and we beg lokolobolo to hear our entreaty." "shall we admit makole?" asked jack of imbono, who had come to his side. "makole is a tall man, a great chief. we will be blood brothers and live together." "you may bring your people in, makole. but i warn you it may not be to live in peace. we have offended bula matadi; bula matadi will come with a great host to destroy us. all who live in ilombekabasi must not look for ease and peace, but for work and war. your people must share with the rest; they must build their own huts, till the fields, repair the walls, learn to scout and to fight in our way. it is not peace, makole." "i praise lokolobolo! i trust lokolobolo! i will do all he says, and my people shall learn all that he teaches," cried the chief, slapping his thighs. then, unwrapping the bundle of palm leaves, he displayed a shrivelled hand, and said-"this is my gift to lokolobolo." "what is this, makole?" asked jack, shuddering. "it is the hand of boloko, who whipped us and killed us, who can say how many? we met him as we came through the forest, and my young men killed him, and i bring his hand to lokolobolo to show that he is dead, and will trouble us no more." "but we do not deal with our enemies thus," said jack. the chief looked surprised. "it is the way of the servants of the great white chief," he said. "they kill us, and cut off our hands, and take them to their chiefs, and the chiefs are pleased and pay brass rods for them. i thought lokolobolo would be pleased." "lokolobolo is inglesa," said lepoko. "it is only bula matadi that pays for the hands of black men. give it to mboyo; he is boloko's brother. boloko hated mboyo, he hated samba; mboyo will be pleased." "bury it at once, out of sight," said jack, "bring your people in, makole. lepoko, take him to mr. barney; he will show him where to build his huts." all ilombekabasi flocked to the gates to see the entrance of this new contingent. they came in laughing, singing, dancing, the mothers eagerly asking where was lokolobolo that they might point him out to their little ones. but lokolobolo was not to be seen. chapter xxxiii conclusion jack had turned sadly from the sight of this joyous entry, and made his way towards the largest of the huts--the hut built for mr. martindale. there samba lay--had lain since barney, with a woman's tenderness, had carried him from elbel's camp to the beloved ilombekabasi which he had thought never to see again. little indeed he saw of the fort and of what was passing there as he lay, day by day, on his simple bamboo bed; for though his wounds slowly healed, not all the loving care lavished upon him by his parents and by barney, who spent every spare hour at his bedside--not the constant companionship of pat himself--brought back strength to his slowly wasting form. still, he was always cheerful. the ready smile lit up his face as lokolobolo appeared in the narrow doorway. barney rose as jack entered and made room for him at the head of the bed. "how are you now, samba?" asked jack, taking his hand. "better, master, better," answered the boy, his voice scarcely audible. "that's right. getting a little appetite, eh? must eat, you know, if you're to grow strong." "see my _kwanga_," said the mother, coming forward. "he eats no more than a bird." "it is nice, mother; i will eat more by and by. i am so tired now." "poor little fellow! you are in no pain?" "no, master, no pain; only tired." "cheer up! you will feel better in the morning." he pressed the boy's hand and turned to leave with barney. at the door mboyo overtook him. "he will not go yet to the great spirit, o lokolobolo?" he whispered anxiously. "we cannot tell, mboyo. all we can do is to tend him well. hope for the best." "poor bhoy!" said barney as they went away; "'tis mighty little betther he is, sorr, i'm fearing. 'twould tax the strength uv a horse to get over it, widout docthors an' all." as they walked across the camp, here a man, there a woman, paused in their work to ask lokolobolo how samba was. children came up--lofinda, for whom samba had shaped a tiny gun; lokilo, proud of his little fishing-rod, samba's gift; isangila, wearing a necklace of dried maize he had made for her--and asked shyly when samba would come out and play with them again. some brought offerings of food specially prepared, delicate fish and rare fruits, the choicest spoil of forest and stream for miles around. everybody loved the boy; and jack loved him with a particular affection. over and above his winning ways, samba stood for so much to jack, who, in thoughtful moods, seemed to see him as the spirit of the negro race, the embodiment of all that was best in the black man, the representative of millions of his kind, helpless pawns in a royal game of beggar my neighbour. it was samba whose woful plight had first brought home to his heart the terrible realities of the rubber slavery; it was samba who had been the means of founding ilombekabasi; to him was due the torch of freedom lit at last in this stricken land--a torch that jack, in his heart of hearts, dared to hope would never be extinguished. surely the conscience of christendom was awakening! pray god the awakening came not too late! a great silence lay upon ilombekabasi. to a stranger beyond the walls the place might have seemed deserted, so still it was, with none of the cheerful bustle that marks the beginning of a new day. men and women were gathered in little knots; they talked in whispers; some were sobbing; the eyes of most were dim with tears. even the children were subdued and quiet; they forgot their play, staring at their elders with puzzled, solemn eyes. why was the world so sad to-day? was it because samba was going away? surely he would come back to them; he had come back before. samba was leaving ilombekabasi. four persons stood by the little bamboo bed. at the foot a dog crouched, whimpering. father and mother bent in mute agony over their son; lukela, the fountain of her tears dried through long weeping, hovering above her boy as though by sheer power of love to guard him from the dread visitant already at the threshold; mboyo rocking himself to and fro in the abandonment of sorrow. and the two white men bowed their heads in silent sympathy and grief. they knew that the end was very near. jack felt a great lump in his throat as he gazed at the still form, lying with outstretched arms, too weak to move. poor little fellow! was this the end of the bright young life, so full of promise? he thought of the days of health, when the boy with happy face went hither and thither, eager to do some service for his beloved master, no matter how hard or how perilous. he thought of the dangers samba had faced for his parents' sake, and the brightness he had brought into their lives and the lives of hundreds of his people. he thought with agony of the terrible scene when samba, rather than say a word to the undoing of those he loved, had endured the tortures inflicted by the inhuman agent of a detestable tyranny. and now the end was at hand! the blithe spirit was departing, the poor body done to death by the greed of a christian king. "botofé bo le iwa! rubber is death!" the words rang in jack's ears; would they were the knell of this despotism, this monstrous "system" that bought wealth with the price of blood! the end came soon. samba moved his hand, and turned his eyes, and murmured "pat!" the watchers barely caught the word, but the dog sprang up, and went to the bed, and nestled his head on the boy's shoulder. samba murmured his pleasure, a happy smile lit up the brave young eyes, and then the light faded, and went out. samba had left ilombekabasi. they buried him next day in the forest he knew and loved so well, with the ceremonies of his people, and as befitted the son of a chief. all the people of ilombekabasi, men, women, and little children, followed him to the grave. they laid by his side the few possessions of the boy--his rifle, his knife, his tin, his wooden spear. and some of his comrades, makoko and lingombela and lianza and lepoko, fired a salute over him and left him there among the trees. that night, sitting in jack's hut, barney talked of the past and the future. "poor ould master came here for gold, sorr. all the gold in all the world is not worth little samba's life. whin the master looks down out uv paradise and sees the people here, i know what he'll say, just as if i heard 'm. he'll say: 'i was niver a philanthrophy, niver did hould wid that sort uv thing. but i'm rale glad that bhoy uv mine wint out wid me in time to make a few poor black people happy. poor craturs! god bless 'em!' sure, sorr, black people have got their feelings--same as dogs." the end _butler and tanner, the selwood printing works, frome, and london_ just published _by the same author_ one of clive's heroes a story of the fight for india illustrated by w. rainey, r.i. the headmaster of harrow: "i have read it and think it a very good book. the historical accuracy is really wonderful in a romance, and the local indian colour well preserved. mr. strang is to be congratulated." athenaeum: "an absorbing story.... the narrative not only thrills, but also weaves skilfully out of fact and fiction a clear impression of our fierce struggle for india." aberdeen free press: "mr. strang may congratulate himself on having achieved another superlatively good story." guardian: "an excellent tale. mr. herbert strang's care and accuracy in detail are far beyond those of the late mr. henty, with whom it is the fashion to compare his work, while he tells a story infinitely better." christian world: "a book from mr. herbert strang is now as regular and welcome an event as in former days were mr. henty's yearly volumes. _one of clive's heroes_ will thrill many a young heart during the christmas holidays. sound history and thrilling romance." lady's pictorial: "when in doubt what to buy for a boy, or boys, for a christmas gift, choose mr. herbert strang's _one of clive's heroes_." church times: "boys are fortunate indeed to have found in mr. strang a worthy successor to their old friend, the late g. a. henty." notts guardian: "'the successor to henty' is a title that needs living up to; but mr. herbert strang, upon whom it has been conferred, richly deserves it." educational times: "far better than henty." education: "a splendid book for boys. we used to think that no one could take henty's place; and we feel certain that no one will ever be able to take mr. strang's." saturday review: "herbert strang tells a story as well as henty told it, and his style is much more finished." hodder and stoughton publishers london * * * * * just published _by the same author_ (herbert strang's first half-crown book) jack hardy or, a hundred years ago illustrated by w. rainey, r.i. bookman: "a story about a gallant young middy could not have a more alluring sub-title than 'a hundred years ago.' on his way to join the _fury_ the gallant midshipman discovered a hotbed of smuggling at luscombe, and unearthed a spy of napoleon's. jack's first fight with the smugglers ended disastrously, and he soon found himself in a french prison. thence he made a daring escape, recaptured the _fury_, and picked up a fine prize ship on his way back to portsmouth. the characters in the story are drawn with originality and humour, especially that fine seaman babbage.... finally jack triumphs all along the line, and his gallantry is rewarded by his appointment to join the _victory_. boys will expect to hear more of jack hardy, and of what he did at trafalgar." athenaeum: "herbert strang is second to none in graphic power and veracity.... here is the best of character sketching in bold outline." speaker: "a greater than henty." school guardian: "mr. herbert strang fills in stories for boys the place of the late mr. henty." tribune: "herbert strang's former books 'caught on' with our boys as no other books of adventure since henty's industrious pen fell from his hand." dublin express: "it has become a truism to say that the mantle of henty has descended to herbert strang, and indeed in some respects mr. strang surpasses henty." hodder and stoughton publishers london * * * * * by herbert strang kobo a story of the russo-japanese war athenaeum: "in kobo, herbert strang has provided much more than a good boys' book for the christmas market. whilst readers of _tom burnaby_ will not be disappointed of an ample meal of stirring adventures and hard war fights, readers of a more serious turn will find an excellent picture of japanese life and character, ... not to mention some vivid sketches of modern naval warfare." spectator: "an excellent story, such as one might expect to have from the author of that capital book, _tom burnaby_.... 'with a japanese, duty comes inexorably first.' this, indeed, is the key-note of the whole story. this principle of action dominates bob's friend, and it dominates the story." saturday review: "last year a new name of great promise appeared in the list of writers of boys' books. this year the promise shown by mr. herbert strang in _tom burnaby_ is more than borne out by _kobo_ and _boys of the light brigade_.... he shares the late mr. henty's knowledge of history and war; he is less encyclopaedic in his descriptive methods perhaps than was henty, though he gives the same air of verisimilitude to his chapters by means of maps and charts ... he has an admirable style, and a sense of humour which he handles with the more effect because he never turns a situation into broad farce." academy: "for vibrant actuality there is nothing to come up to mr. strang's _kobo_." daily telegraph: "this vivid story owes not a little of its attractiveness to its many picturesque touches of local colour." pall mall gazette "mr. herbert strang, whose splendid story, _tom burnaby_, proved so brilliantly successful last year, has written another that will rank as its equal for vivid interest." westminster gazette: "an adventure story after a boy's own heart." * * * * * by herbert strang brown of moukden athenaeum: "herbert strang may be congratulated on another first-rate book.... characterization is a strong feature, ... and ah lum, the literary chief of the brigands, is a memorable type." spectator: "mr. strang has very rightly taken up again the subject in which his story of _kobo_ achieved such a success last year.... the story is very skilfully constructed.... of particular scenes we may single out for mention the episode of the railway train, ... a most effective piece of narrative.... the relief of humorous passages and situations has been given, and without stint.... ah lum, the spectacled brigand chief, with all the wisdom of confucius and lao-tze at his finger tips, is a most amusing person.... _brown of moukden_ is certainly a success." academy: "related with the same spirit and intimate knowledge of the east that made _kobo_ a marked success." church times: "the incident of the locomotive race down the siberian railway is, for breathless interest, the equal of anything we know of in the whole range of juvenile fiction.... the book will hold boy readers spellbound." army and navy gazette: "when mr. henty died boys were disconsolate, for they had lost a real friend; but now we have mr. herbert strang most capably taking his place. he was welcomed as showing great promise in _tom burnaby_, but he did better in _kobo_, that strong story of the earlier pages of the russo-japanese war, and now he has done better still in _brown of moukden_." gentlewoman: "mr. herbert strang may really be said to be the successor of the late mr. henty, and parents and others on the look-out for desirable boys' books must be grateful to him each year for an excellent story at christmastide.... this is the literature we want for young england." journal of education: "mr. strang's former books have led us to expect great things from his pen, and these volumes prove him to be in the foremost rank of writers of boys' books. they are thoroughly healthy in tone, full of stirring adventures; and in each case linked to history in a manner that is never oppressive, and adds considerably to the interest of the story." * * * * * by herbert strang boys of the light brigade a story of spain and the peninsular war spectator: "mr. strang's name will suffice to assure us that the subject is seriously treated, and a better subject could hardly be found.... altogether a capital story." professor oman (chichele professor of modern history at oxford, and author of _a history of the peninsular war_): "pray accept thanks from a historian for having got historical accuracy, combined with your fine romantic adventures." outlook: "let us be thankful for a boy's book really worth reading." schoolmaster: "we have read this book with great interest and delight. more than four hundred pages of the most thrilling events are told with a marvellous fidelity to history." standard: "it is a book which no boy will be able to put down when once started." the adventures of harry rochester a story of the days of marlborough and eugene academy: "_tom burnaby_ and _kobo_--the best books of their season--have a worthy successor in _the adventures of harry rochester_." glasgow herald: "mr. herbert strang again displays all the qualities that attracted attention and secured for him such a brilliant success when he made his appearance two years ago as the author of _tom burnaby_.... we recommend it to all parents who want something thoroughly sound, as well as interesting, to put into the hands of their boys." army and navy gazette: "the descriptive power and characterization are quite remarkable." dundee advertiser: "in some essentials, such as constancy in bold action, this well-studied and finely-coloured tale is superior to any written by the lamented henty. with the need of some one to take henty's vacant place has come the man." * * * * * by herbert strang tom burnaby field-marshal lord wolseley: "it is just the sort of book i would give to any schoolboy, for i know he would enjoy every page of it." sir a. conan doyle: "... i think it is a really excellent picture of african life." mr. j. l. paton, head-master of manchester grammar school: "... it is worth reading and thoroughly wholesome. i wish it all success." dr. r. p. scott, secretary of the head-masters' association: "... i have read the book from cover to cover, and found it thoroughly interesting, vivid, healthful, and helpful. i can cordially recommend it to boys, and will do so whenever opportunity offers." pall mall gazette: "that splendid story _tom burnaby_." educational news: "the stirring pages of _tom burnaby_." literary world: "... mr. strang ... has put as much work into this story as one finds in a really good novel; the little bits of useful information that he sprinkles through it are palatable and readily digestible, and the 'atmosphere' (if one may mix one's metaphors) 'rings true.'" mark lane express: "... mr. strang has come to the front rank with a bound...." world: "... the tone of the story is excellent; manly and spirited, it cannot fail to rouse a response in a boy's heart." financial news: "as a writer of stirring stories the author of the famous _tom burnaby_ stands in the front rank of those who devote their talents to the edification of the rising generation." school government chronicle: "mr. herbert strang understands the taste and temper of the british public-school boy." liverpool mercury: "the record of his career deserved to be bound in leather and blocked on all sides with gold." dundee advertiser: "... as good as the plot is the way in which the author conveys a living impression of the region and its inhabitants." glasgow evening news: "... a masterpiece in the henty manner." englishman (calcutta): "it is a book that every wholesome-minded boy will revel in, for it is alive with action and picturesque adventure." 