An Embargo--Federation--Gunpowder--An Object-Lesson--The Great Palaver--After Many Years--Pikes--The Call to Arms
In the exchange of confidences Herr Schwab informed Tom that he had been for several months wandering about with his donkeys and his samples, booking orders for his firm. He had for the most part confined himself to the villages in the vicinity of the Victoria Nyanza; but having heard rumours of a large body of Arabs who were in possession of plentiful stores of ivory, he had recently left German East Africa and come rapidly northwards. He had heard nothing whatever of the fate of Major Burnaby's expedition, and could not answer Tom's eager enquiries for his friends; indeed, he had met no Europeans except his own compatriots since he left Kisumu. He heard Tom's story, modestly told as it was, with mingled amazement and incredulity. But there was no gainsaying the fact that the young Englishman was virtually chief of a large Bahima village, and Schwab was not the man to lose any opportunity for trade. Learning that an Arab attack was expected, and that Tom's pressing necessity was arms and ammunition, he offered to smuggle in some Mausers from German East Africa, as of course he could not import arms openly into the territory of the Congo Free State.
"Can't think of it," said Tom decisively. "If it's against the rules that's enough for me. We must play the game, you know. Besides, I'm going to try to make some gunpowder myself."
"Ach!" exclaimed the German with a shrug, "certainly you vill burn your fingers, my young friend. But now, vat can I do for you?"
"Fetch in your packages and let me see what you have."
When the bags were opened Tom at once marked a Colt revolver.
"That's mine," he said; "a pretty thing, by Jove! And you've cartridges for it! And I'll take that Waterbury I see there; made in Germany, of course. And three of those pocket-books, with a dozen lead-pencils; and that comb; and a tooth-brush. Have you a tooth-brush? That's the very thing. You've a razor too; I'd take that if you had a looking-glass. I'd like to get rid of this fur on my cheeks, but I'm afraid I should gash myself horribly without a glass. What--you have one? Capital; and a shaving-brush too, I see, and soap. Why, Schwab, what a universal provider you are! There's one thing I'd give a great deal for, and that's a pound of tea, Mazawattee or anything else. Haven't any? Then I must do without. You have some quinine, I see; that'll always come in handy. I think that's about all. Now, how much does that come to?"
"Ten pound," said the German instantly.
"What! Ten pounds for those few things! Why, it's ruinous! How do you make out the bill?"
"I gif no bill. I hafe vat you call mon-o-po-ly, my young friend. It is take it or leafe it, I do not mind."
"Business are business, indeed! Well, I want the things. I can do without the watch and the pocket-books, perhaps. How much then?"
"Ten pound; I hafe only vun price."
"You old Shylock! Well, I haven't the cash, so I can't expect the five per cent, but I'll give you an order on my uncle. I suppose that'll satisfy you?"
"Oh yes! ze British officer vat you call pay opp. I vill feel quite safe."
"Very well. Heavens! how funny it is to hold a pencil again! There you are: 'Pay Herr Schwab on sight ten pounds (£10). Tom Burnaby'. That'll do, eh?"
"All correct, my young friend. And now, vat more can I do for you?"
"I hardly like to ask you, but would you mind--pray don't hesitate to say so--would you mind cutting my hair?"
"You hafe done me vell, Mr. Burnaby; I do not mind. I vill cut your hair, and sell you ze scissors."
"Fire away, then, and don't dig into my skin, will you?"
Schwab turned up his sleeves, tucked a long yellow scarf from his variety bundle round Tom's neck, and cropped him close, with no more than the usual stabs and pricks. Then Tom escorted him round his little domain, and gratified him with an order for various tools and implements. He remained overnight as Tom's guest, and started early in the morning northwards to visit the Arabs.
Before he left, Tom warned him that he might find the Arabs rather unpleasant customers. But Schwab puffed himself out and waved the warning away.
"Vat!" he said, "the Arabs vill not dare do anyzink to me, a Gairman! Our Kaiser, who is in Berlin--he vould know ze reason vy if vun hair of my head vas touched."
"You Germans are lucky," laughed Tom. "The King isn't so particular about my hair! Besides, it's not much good knowing after the event. You're out of reach of an army corps, you know, or even a telegram."
"I am not vun small bit afraid. I hafe my Mausers. I hafe my revolver; besides, I go to sell ammunition, and zat ze Arabs vill alvays be most glad to get."
"I must put my veto on that. I fear, Mr. Schwab, you don't quite realize the situation. I have every sympathy with legitimate trade--we British are a trading nation; but as matters stand I must regard rifles as contraband of war. Sell the Arabs pins and milking-pails and anything else you like, but no arms or ammunition. In fact, I shall have to ask you to leave your cases of ammunition here, taking with you only enough to serve your immediate needs. I can't have arms put into my enemy's hands. And you're smuggling, you know; you'd get into hot water if the Free State people knew. I'll keep your ammunition safe until you return. And another thing, Herr Schwab. You'll be good enough to give the Arabs no information about me or the village. I'm not sure that as a precaution I oughtn't to prevent your getting to them at all, but I don't want to be unfriendly. It's understood, then, that you keep to yourself all that you have seen here?"
The German tried for half an hour to wriggle out of the dilemma, but Tom told him flatly at last that on no other conditions would he be allowed to proceed; and he at last submitted with a shrug.
Half an hour after Schwab had gone Tom started with Mbutu, the katikiro, the kasegara, the principal drummer, and three other officials, for the hill to which the chiefs had been summoned for palaver. They all arrived at the rendezvous, and for five long hours Tom patiently explained and argued and explained again, striving with infinite tact to dispel their suspicions and to persuade them of the ultimate advantage they would all derive from co-operation. Coached beforehand in definite details by the katikiro, he reminded them of the ravages from which they had already suffered; of the villages burnt to the ground, the crops destroyed, the ruthless massacres, the brutal mutilations, the hundreds captured as slaves. He touched a tender spot when he spoke of the immense treasures of ivory of which the Arabs had despoiled them--ivory which their own skill as hunters had obtained, and which they might have sold profitably to the Free State Government or to merchants. Lastly, finding it necessary to take a leaf out of the African's own book, he spoke of himself, of the Great White King, of his own deeds against the Arabs, and said that only if they fell in with his proposal could they hope to deal a final crushing blow at the Arab power. The chiefs were more and more impressed, and at length one of them said that only one thing was still needed to bring him under Kuboko's banner. He had heard great stories of Kuboko's big medicine; if Kuboko would exhibit his magic and convince him by the evidence of his own eyes, he would willingly call Kuboko brother and follow him as his great chief.
Tom instantly agreed, and the katikiro fairly danced with merriment. Nothing could be more effectual, Tom thought, than his final performance with the medicine-man, so he invited the chiefs in turn to knock him down if they could. They showed at first some reluctance, but Msala assured them that Kuboko would bear them no malice. Thus reassured they advanced in turn, and in a very few minutes all three were sitting on the ground, laughing uproariously at their own mishaps, while the katikiro and his friends made the countryside resound with their boisterous "Hoo! hoo! hoo!" No further proof was required; the chiefs signified their adhesion to the proposed confederation, and declared that they were ready, on a day to be fixed, formally to become Kuboko's blood-brothers.
This being achieved, Tom spent another hour in explaining the details of the federation. Each chief, as soon as the approach of the Arabs was signalled, was to place himself unreservedly at Tom's orders, and bring his contingent into the field. They could each promise about two hundred men. The signal would be given in the usual way by drums, and to ensure early information Tom intimated that he would arrange a series of posts about three miles apart, extending for some thirty miles into the forest, in the direction from which the Arabs might be expected. As soon as the enemy was sighted, the fact would be announced by drums from post to post; but in order to provide against the possibility of mistake a message would also be conveyed by runners.
One of the conditions of the alliance was that each member of the confederacy bound himself to assist in the rebuilding of any village that might be destroyed, and Tom was especially careful in explaining the reason.
"You see, my brothers," he said, "you will not wish to leave your villages feeling that during your absence, and owing to your absence, they may be burnt, and your wives and children thus rendered homeless. But by accepting my plan, when the drum tells you that the Arabs are coming, you may rush to join me with every confidence; for if your villages are destroyed, you know that all your brothers, yes, and I myself, will help to build them up again. And so you will have new huts for old. Is it well, my brothers?"
There were grunts of acquiescence.
"There is one other thing," Tom continued. "The Arabs, if they come in the large numbers that we expect, will range the country far and wide for food. Then I recommend you, if at this late season of the year you have still any of your crops unreaped, or any of your food-roots in the ground, to gather in all that you can, and dig deep pits in secret places, and there store your harvest. It is not well that we should feed the Arabs."
The chiefs again showed by their grunts that they found Kuboko's recommendation good.
"Now I want you, when you return to your own villages, to call up all the petty chiefs who look up to you, the chiefs of tens and twenties and thirties, and explain to them what we have talked about to-day. If they agree to come in with us, you will bring them to a grand palaver on this same hillside eight days from now. Every man will carry his arms, and come equipped as for war."
Tom was thoroughly tired out when he got back to the village. He had intended to write, in one of the note-books he had obtained from Schwab, a brief jotting of recent events, for future reference, but he put off that till next morning. When morning came, however, he was too anxious to begin his experiments in powder-making to spend any time in penning records. He had a large quantity of crude sulphur and saltpetre to refine, and he was by no means sure that with the rough apparatus at hand he would be successful. That could easily be tested, and he at once set about his preparations for the task.
He got a number of large earthen pots of all shapes and sizes, and broke up the rough dirty rolls of sulphur into these. Then he heated them gently over slow fires, and found, as he had hoped, that the earthy impurities gradually settled at the bottom, leaving the pure sulphur, a liquid like treacle, at the top. This he ladled off into clean vessels.
So far so good. The next thing was the saltpetre which had been collected by the women. This also he put into vessels, and dissolved the crude solid in water. Raising the mixture to the boiling-point, he allowed it to cool gradually, and watched for the result. The pure saltpetre was deposited in a solid crystalline mass at the bottom.
Here then were two of the necessary constituents; the third was easily obtained, for the katikiro had admirably carried out his instructions, and had personally superintended the cutting and carrying of an immense quantity of splendid wood from the forest, which was easily converted into charcoal by heating it in closed vessels.
Nothing now remained but to mix these ingredients.
"We must take care it isn't bang! soosh! black man all dead," said Tom to Mbutu, who, with all the other officials, was taking the keenest interest in the experiments. "I think we had better build a shed half a mile away, so that if there is an explosion it will do no harm except to me and you and my assistants."
"Sah no go," said Mbutu. "Me go; make bang stuff; blow up; all same for one."
"No, my boy, that won't do. Why, the people here would lose all faith in me if I was afraid to take my own big medicine. No; we'll set about running up a shed at once, and take care to avoid risks as much as possible. Two men with you and me will be enough to do the mixing, at first, at any rate, and you may choose them out of your own friends."
A wooden shed was soon fixed up on an open space far from trees or bush, and Tom arranged to begin work before dawn next day, so as to get some mixing done before the sun was high. He was not at all sure about the proportions in which the three constituents ought to be mixed, but hoped to find that out by experiment. Just as the darkness began to clear he went out to the shed with Mbutu alone to make a first attempt in private. It was unsuccessful; the mixture burnt readily enough, but without explosion. He guessed from his failure that the quantity of saltpetre in his first mixture had not been sufficient, and, carefully measuring out his quantities in a small brass cup, he increased the amount little by little, testing a portion of the mixture after each addition, until at last he was rewarded with a decided explosion which reverberated in a hundred echoes, and was answered by the banging of the sentry's drum in the village. Tom laughed with almost childish delight at the success of his efforts, and, taking careful note of the proportions he had finally arrived at, he returned to the village.
Next morning he took out the two Bahima selected by Mbutu, and found that not only were they quick to learn, but, what is more important in a native of Africa, they recognized the necessity for caution. They worked steadily till ten o'clock, and at the end of the day Tom found himself in possession of several pounds of serviceable powder. It was a queer-looking mixture, and Tom said to himself, with a laugh, that no doubt it would miserably fail to pass the Waltham test; but he knew that it would serve his purpose, and that was sufficient. Within a fortnight he had stored about half a ton in the recesses of the cavern in the cliff, and had collected in the village a large quantity of the several constituents, which only awaited mixing.
"It is a pity," he thought, "that with an almost unlimited supply of powder, we can make so little use of it. At the most we have muskets for only two hundred and fifty men, and many of these are likely to be as dangerous to us as to the enemy. With the powder we already have we could supply a brigade for a month's campaign. But surely it can be used in some other way?"
In the event of another siege the store of powder would, he knew, be invaluable for mining purposes; but he wished to find some method by which it could be turned to account in field operations. At last he hit upon an idea. Why not lay in a supply of hand-grenades? He could not, of course, with the limited supply of metal in the village, and the still more limited smithy arrangements, manufacture bombs with a metal case; but after some cogitation he found a means of surmounting this difficulty. The grenades, he thought, might be made of thick pottery, encased in a double or triple envelope of elastic wicker-work, the latter intended to prevent the bomb, when thrown, from bursting before the fuse had time to do its work. In the manufacture of this outer envelope Tom relied on the extreme ingenuity of the Bahima in all kinds of basket-weaving; and his expectations in this respect were more than realized. Experimenting first with a dummy shell, he found that, protected by the wicker covering, it could be thrown to a distance of forty or fifty yards without breaking the earthenware container. This was quite sufficient for his purpose.
"I think," he said to the katikiro, who was watching his experiments with mingled wonder and amusement, "that we shall be able to give the Arabs more than one surprise if they visit us again. I want you to get your potters and weavers to make two dozen more jars after this pattern; Mbutu will take them, together with a large basketful of granite chips, to the shed where we made the powder. We shall see to-morrow whether these little jars are going to be of use to us."
On the following morning Tom went with Mbutu to the powder-shed, which had always been made taboo to the villagers. There he half-filled one of the jars with granite chips (all the available iron scraps being required for the muskets), and rammed in on the top a bursting-charge of gunpowder. Into the neck of the jar he fitted a plug, through which a hole was bored for the insertion of a time fuse. In the preparation of the fuse Tom's school-boy experiments in pyrotechny stood him in good stead. Some cotton fibre steeped in a solution of saltpetre fully answered his purpose. His next step was to erect a framework of match-boarding to serve as a target. Stationing himself behind an earthen breastwork about forty yards from the target, he set fire to the fuse of his trial bomb and, hurling it at the target, dropped to the ground behind the entrenchment. There he waited for some seconds until a loud report showed that his grenades could at least be trusted to explode; some small fragments dropped within a few feet of his shelter. Stepping up to the target, he found it pitted in a dozen places with dents due to the granite chips, some of which were driven some distance into the wood. There was no doubt that had a body of men been within a few feet of the bomb when it exploded, not many would have survived.
Tom's next concern was to ensure, first, that the fuse should be perfectly trustworthy, and secondly, that the bursting-charge of powder should not be so great as to bring the grenadiers themselves within the danger-zone. It required two or three days of careful experiment before he was satisfied on these points. Then he instructed the katikiro to select twenty potters and twice as many weavers to manufacture a large supply of bombs; and under his own and Mbutu's supervision these were carefully charged in the shed, and stowed away in the cavern on the cliff. The provision of a number of plug-bayonets by the village smiths completed his experiments in the preparation of warlike stores.
On the day before the general palaver, the katikiro came to Tom and informed him that the chief who had so insolently dismissed Barega's messenger during the siege had come into the village with a retinue, and had very humbly asked to see Kuboko.
"Ah!" said Tom; "he has come round, has he? Bring him up."
The chief and his men drew near very much as whipped dogs would have done. Within ten yards of Tom's hut they flung themselves on their faces, and wriggled their way with ludicrous contortions towards him. He thought it a good opportunity for teaching the whole village a salutary lesson, so he summoned the people by beat of drum, and ordered them to stand round. Then he severely asked the fawning chief his name and business.
"O Kuboko, great master, my name is Uchunku," said the man. "I am weaker than a dog, smaller than a flea. Nothing that I have but is mine by the mercy of Kuboko. I have heard of Kuboko's mighty power, and I fall on my face, for no man can stand upright in the presence of the man of big medicine. I have heard, O Kuboko, of the wonderful thrower that casts mountains as high as the very stars of heaven; and of the mighty flood that flowed from the hollow of Kuboko's hand, and upon which the Arabs were swept away even as leaves upon the torrent. All this have I heard, and more, and I come to put my neck under Kuboko's foot, and beg him to gird my village about with his mighty magic."
Tom let the man grovel there, and paused before he answered. Then he upbraided him for his meanness and folly in refusing help to his neighbour Barega when in dire extremity, and declared that he deserved to be left to meet single-handed the devastating Arabs.
"You are a coward, Uchunku," he said. "You stood aloof from your neighbour in distress, and then, when you find that all your other neighbours have seen the wisdom of joining my people and accepting my leadership, you come and whine like a puppy to be taken in. I will have mercy on you; I will admit you to our confederacy; but you will have to prove yourself worthy. You will be given no place of trust, your men will not be allowed to bear arms, until you have shown that you are loyal, and ready to carry out all my commands."
The miserable chief abjectly promised to do anything, even the most menial work, to merit Kuboko's favour. Tom cut him short, bade him get up, and ordered him to attend the palaver next day with all his men.
Tom would have been more than human if he had not felt a thrill and glow of pride next day, when, at the appointed mote-hill, he found a great concourse of natives awaiting him. The three chiefs of the former palaver had most effectively fulfilled his instructions. Each had brought a group of petty chiefs, and each of these had come with several of his warriors, so that the whole assembly numbered nearly three hundred men, armed in their several ways. They were Bantu negroes of various races, some of them tall, splendid specimens of humanity, some short and thick-set, all muscular and in the pink of physical condition. Until Tom came in sight with his small escort, they had kept up a constant chatter, the sound of which travelled across the country like the noise of a vast army of rooks or gulls. But as Tom ascended the hill a silence fell upon the throng. Hundreds of eyes looked curiously at the man of whom they had heard so much. When he reached the brow of the hill, moved as by one impulse the crowd raised their spears aloft and cried aloud: "Kuboko! Kuboko! Waize! Thou comest!" and it was then that Tom thrilled with the thought that all these simple, untutored negroes were looking to him as their leader, and relying on him to save them from the awful fate they must inevitably meet if their inhuman oppressors had their will. And thus, when he had gathered them about him in a large ring, there was a deep note of earnestness in his voice as he addressed them. He thanked them first for coming so readily at his wish, and briefly explained to them the arrangements he had already made with the three superior chiefs, impressing on them the seriousness of the effort soon to be made to rid them for ever of their age-long foes, and the necessity for all to work together without jealousy or self-seeking. Much of what he said he knew must fall on deaf ears; he could not expect them to forget the habits and ideas that were part of their blood; but if he could only gain their confidence, he hoped that his personal influence and example would succeed in effecting something, however little.
When he had won their approval of his general scheme, he ventured to put to them another proposal which he felt would meet with opposition. It was that, when the great day came, they should bring all their women and children, with their valuable possessions, to Mwonga, until the fight was over. A low murmur of disapproval ran round the ring, then the negroes began to gesticulate and argue excitedly until loud shouts of "Nga! Ngabuse!" their strongest negative, filled the air. Waiting patiently through the uproar, Tom at length held up his hand, and after some minutes succeeded in stilling the storm. Then, in the same even quiet manner, he began to reason with them.
"Why do my brothers shout so loudly into the sky? Is Kuboko deaf that he cannot hear? Is he stupid that he cannot understand? I, Kuboko, have but two arms and two hands. I cannot take all my brothers into my grip and drag them whither it pleases me. No, but I speak plain words to my brothers, and if they are not good words then my brothers can go their own way. Listen, men of a hundred villages, how can you hope to hold your huts against the attack of a strong and cruel foe? See, I take this spear-shaft in my hand, I lay it across my knees and snap it in two; you could do the same. But now I take five spear-shafts together, and though I strive and strain I cannot break so much as one of them. What think you of that, my brothers?"
The old illustration, so happily remembered, had an instant effect on the keen natives, to whose minds the practical so strongly appeals. Allowing a little time for the lesson to strike home, Tom went on:
"Now, what of Mwonga? Think how it is placed--on a hill, a steep path at one end, a precipice at one side, an ever-flowing stream, a well-kept stockade. Have we not already driven the Arabs from it, not once nor twice? I have no thought of doing favour to Mwonga. It is not my village: my village is far away, over mountains and rivers, on the other side of a big water stretching farther than any eye can see. My village awaits me, and when my work is done I long only to go back to it and see my fields and huts and the faces of my own people again. But while I am here I want to help you, and you, and you, my brothers, every one of you. Make, then, a great camp at Mwonga until the Arabs are beaten and hunted away. Only Mwonga has been able to defy them. Does any chief know of a better place? If so, let him speak."
There was a long pause. Each chief consulted with his own men. Then one of the three principal chiefs called for silence, and declared that Kuboko's words were good. A long and excited discussion ensued, until at length they agreed to Tom's proposal, provided the village could be sufficiently enlarged to contain all their dependents in case of need. Tom at once called for the services of a thousand men to extend the stockade, widen the ditch, and build new huts for the accommodation of the guests. This was also agreed to, and then Tom endeavoured to get an idea of what his total force of fighting-men would amount to. He took some time to question each chief as to the strength of his own contingent, and to make the necessary deductions due to their incurable love of boasting; but the number actually arrived at, including his own force of Bahima and Bairo, fell not far short of four thousand. Then the assembly broke up.
One of the lesser chiefs, during the latter part of the conference, had been looking with great interest at Mbutu, who stood by his master's side. He was a tall Muhima, lithe and strong, with an Egyptian cast of feature and the strange melancholy expression so characteristic of his race. Looking very puzzled, he edged gradually nearer to Mbutu, and, as Tom turned to go down the hill, took the young Muhima by both arms, and gazed searchingly into his face.
"What is it, Mbutu?" said Tom. "Come along."
"Mbutu!" ejaculated the chief; then smiled, and shook the boy's arms up and down excitedly, talking very rapidly and earnestly the while. Mbutu listened at first in fascinated amazement, but by and by his expression changed, he clasped the stranger's neck, and, turning to his master, said simply:
"Him my brudder, sah! Him Mboda!"
Then he explained. When his village had been raided and burned some years before, he had believed that he alone of the male population had escaped alive. He had seen his father and two brothers killed, and knew that the women would be carried into captivity. But it now appeared that a few of the younger men had evaded the clutches of the Arabs and got away into the forest, under the leadership of Mboda, his third brother, and that, when the danger was past, they had returned, built a village several miles west of the one that was burned, and gradually gathered about them a few men and women of their own stock. Of this small village Mboda was now chief, and he had been among the most eager to join the coalition against the enemy he had so good reason for hating.
The delight of the brothers at their unexpected meeting was so manifest that Tom invited Mboda to return to Mwonga and stay for a few days. Mboda eagerly accepted the invitation, and sent word to his village by one of his men.
On Tom's return to Mwonga, the operations arranged were immediately put in hand and pressed on in spite of the constant rains. When the new stockade was completed, the enclosure was more than half a mile square, and there was room for the temporary accommodation of fifteen thousand people. The hole in the wall of the reservoir was filled up, so that the supply of water needed by so vast a host might be kept as large as possible; and the defences were further strengthened by a solid earthen embankment impenetrable to bullets. Another measure of Tom's, at first the cause of much grief and dismay among the Bairo, was the levelling of the banana plantation on the south-east of the village. But when the news was carried round among the allies it made a vast impression. The chiefs recognized that not they alone were required to make sacrifices, but that the people of Mwonga themselves submitted even to the loss of a flourishing plantation at the bidding of Kuboko.
But all this Tom felt was but child's play to the work of training his men. He knew, from what he had read of operations in which native troops had been engaged, in the Soudan and Kumasi, for instance, how impulsive the negro is, how prone to get out of hand, how apt to fight "off his own bat", without the least idea of co-operation. It was hopeless to attempt the training of the whole body of his allies; it would take years of vigorous drill, and the constant attention of British non-commissioned officers, to eradicate these defects and implant new ideas and habits in the native. All that he could hope to do was to bring his own men, and especially the select body of two hundred and fifty, into something like order. He worked unsparingly. He got the men to fall in in double ranks, and arranged them according to their height, making them number and form fours in the good old way he remembered at school. When it came to "Left!" and "Right!" he had some trouble at first, and the operation of changing ranks was almost too much for the Bahima, not to speak of Tom's patience. Marking time presented no difficulty, and when the willing negroes had once learned the difference between right and left it was not long before the orders "Right form", "Left form", "Move to the right in fours", and the other mystic cries of the barrack-yard, were carried out with fair precision. All these military commands Tom gave in English, and he often smiled to think of the surprise which his uncle, or any other British officer, would feel if he were dumped down suddenly one day at Mwonga's village and heard the curt expressions of English drill bawled within the stockade.
The four hours' drill was kept up every day, and the monotony of it was compensated by the eagerness and aptness of his pupils. Before, they were a mob; now, they were gradually gaining the power to work together and becoming a serviceable force. This was strikingly shown in their volley-firing. After repeated efforts, Tom almost despaired of breaking the men of firing haphazard, anticipating the word of command, blazing with eyes shut in every possible direction. But patience won the day, and at last he was able to advance men against them in sham-fight to within twenty yards without a trigger being pulled before the word was given.
The manufacture of gunpowder having proved successful, it was a comparatively easy matter to make slugs for the muskets. Every scrap of old iron, brass, copper, lead, in the place was utilized for this purpose, and at last the musketeers were provided with sufficient ammunition, Tom considered, to last them through a month's brisk fighting.
Having brought them into something like order, he next set about the equipment of an equal force of pikemen. He had read something of the good service done by pikemen in the wars of the seventeenth century, and he was indeed amazed to find how details that had lain unnoticed in his mind now came crowding to his recollection. He got his men to cut strong staffs, sixteen feet long, from the forest trees, and to each he fixed, by means of a thin plate of iron four feet long, a lozenge-shaped pike-head, made by the Bairo smiths under his direction. Thus the head could not be accidentally broken off, or cut off by the Arabs' scimitars. The men so armed he trained to act with the musketeers. In close fighting order the musketeers were drawn up in two ranks, the front rank kneeling, the rear rank standing, while the pikemen stood behind, their pikes projecting in front of the musketeers. In charging, the pikemen led the way, supported by the musketeers with bayonets or clubbed muskets.
Tom was, of course, entirely in the dark as to where the expected engagement was to be fought--whether in the forest, in the open outside the village, or again behind the stockade; but he was determined to be prepared for any contingency. Ill-armed as his force was, he recognized that he might have to fight a defensive campaign for a time, trusting to wear the enemy out, and to seize a favourable opportunity for taking the offensive. It was a risky policy with a negro force; he could place full reliance only on the pikemen and musketeers; the great body of the allies was little better than a rabble, and man for man less dependable, because less used to regular fighting, than the Arab auxiliaries. But he hoped that his special troops would be sufficiently well drilled to give a good account of themselves if fighting took place in the open, while in the forest the others could certainly harass the enemy, probably cut off his supplies, ambush him, and attack him at a disadvantage.
All this time Tom had been gleaning various items of information as to the routes by which the enemy might be expected to come. There was, of course, the path through the forest, along which he himself had been carried to the village, but he learnt that there were two other possible ways, to the west and east of the direct route. These, however, would involve the crossing of at least two broad rivers, and the rainy season being barely over, the streams would be so swollen as to render fording impossible.
He would gladly have fortified the approaches to the village had this been possible, but after carefully weighing the pros and cons he reluctantly decided that he must be content to extemporize stockades when the approach of the Arabs was announced. Until the peril was imminent he could not count upon sufficient assistance from his allies to enable him to construct defensive works on all the paths by which the expected invasion might be made, and his own troops were clearly insufficient for the purpose.
The long-awaited signal came at length. On the night of November 28, a date which Tom carefully marked in the pocket-diary he had obtained from Herr Schwab, the faint taps of a drum were heard far away to the north. A few minutes later a distinct roll came from the nearest post. At distances of six and three miles the signal drummers had passed on the message received by them from posts farther afield. Reading the message by the prearranged code, Tom made out that a small force had been sighted sixty miles from the village. Surmising that this was merely the advance-guard, he calculated that the main body would take at least five or six days to arrive, and he resolved to wait until the morning before calling up his levies.
Soon after daybreak a courier came panting into the village, and announced that the line of runners had transmitted to him the news that a huge force of Arabs was advancing along the forest-path a mile or two in the rear of the advance-guard.
The village drummers were at once called on to signal the news to the allied chiefs, and runners were despatched to them all confirming the intelligence. The chiefs were each to send their women and children into Mwonga under a small escort, with not less than six weeks' supply of food. The warriors who were used to forest fighting were to muster at the edge of the forest, and await orders from Kuboko. The remainder, men of the plain, with no special skill in woodcraft, and dreading the forest as an unknown region of unimaginable terrors, were to concentrate to the north-east of the village, and hold themselves in readiness to move in any direction at a moment's notice. By making forced marches, all the fighting-men of the allies had arrived at their appointed places by the morning of the next day. It was a glorious morning, and, looking round from the village on the eager host, their spear-heads glittering in the sunlight, Tom drew good augury, and felt his heart leap within him.
His force numbered four thousand one hundred all told, and as yet he was wholly without definite information of the size of the Arab army. It was important that every possible means should be taken of worrying and reducing the enemy while marching through the forest, encumbered, as no doubt they were, with carriers and baggage. They included, Tom felt sure, a very large number of men armed with rifles and muskets, but their superiority in this respect would be to a great extent neutralized among the trees. His first care, therefore, was to despatch five hundred of his best forest-fighters, divided into twenty bands of twenty-five each, into the forest, to dig pits, plant stakes, and employ every device known to them to delay and harass the advance. They were not to penetrate into the forest for more than thirty miles from their base, in order that they might be easily supplied with food, and readily recalled if need arose.
Tom's next step was to arrange with the katikiro for the defence of the village against a possible flanking attack. He could not be sure that the line of the advance now signalled would be the line of the real attack; for all he knew, the Arabs might divide their force, advance in two directions, and, while making a feint in their immediate front, throw all their strength upon the village, hoping to take it unawares. The katikiro during the last few weeks had proved himself one of the most intelligent and persevering of all Tom's lieutenants, and Tom had complete confidence that his courage and determination would not fail at the critical moment. To him, therefore, he entrusted the defence of the village. He gave him a thousand of the plainsmen, of whom sixty were armed with muskets, and also the whole of the cadet corps, who, being young and hot-headed, he thought would be all the better for the restraint of the stockade. The force was, he knew, quite inadequate to hold the extensive line of fortifications if the place was seriously assaulted; but it could, he hoped, hold its own behind the stockade for a day or two, allowing time for Tom himself to return to its assistance.
Before leaving the village, Tom took the katikiro aside to give him final instructions. Msala was talking to the medicine-man at the time, and the latter scarcely attempted to conceal a malignant scowl as Tom approached. He moved reluctantly away, evidently curious to learn what Tom's business with the katikiro was.
"Msala," said Tom, as soon as he judged Mabruki to be out of ear-shot, "I have given you an important post, because I know that you are fearless, and because I trust you. The village, and the lives of the thousands of people in it, are in your hands. You must on no account leave your post unless you receive a direct order from me. If I want you to leave it, I shall send a messenger to you, and he will bring with him, as a proof that his message is genuine, a leaf out of my pocket-book with this mark upon it." He drew a circle, with two diameters intersecting at right-angles. "You see that? Whatever messenger comes to you from me will have a leaf like that, and I will leave this with you, so that no possible mistake can be made. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Msala, his face aglow with the importance of his duties; "I will obey the words of Kuboko, and he shall find that I am as bold as a lion and as wise as an elephant."
"Very well then. Now I myself am going into the forest with my picked men. You may not see me for many days; but do not get down-hearted. Let us hope that when you and I meet again we shall have made our account with the enemy."
Fording a Stream--Preparing a Trap--Ensnared--A Panic--Mystery--Prompt Measures--Scouting--The Arab Camp--A Burly Pikeman--Preparing to Spring--De Castro Escapes
The force made a brave show as it marched out next morning amid the cheers of the thousands of men, women, and children left behind. The katikiro stood at the north gate, proud of his office, and yet envious of the men who were advancing to meet the enemy. At one side of him stood Mwonga, at the other Mabruki the medicine-man, who had recovered something of his old authority with the influx into the village of a vast horde who had not witnessed his discomfiture by Kuboko. Some, indeed, of the Bahima had pleaded that Mabruki might be allowed to accompany them, so that they might benefit by what magical power was still left to him; but Tom had resolutely refused their request, asking them bluntly whether they had not more confidence in his strong arm than in Mabruki's basket and bell. And therefore the only face that scowled on the departing army was Mabruki's.
The van was led by the two hundred and fifty pikemen, their pike-heads polished to a silvery brilliance and flashing in the sunlight. They were followed by the musketeers, with Tom and Mbutu at their head. Then came a select band of fifty, who were to be entrusted with the throwing of the hand-grenades, and with them were a number of Bairo, laden with ammunition. Behind these came the remainder of the force--spearmen and archers, all eager, confident, burning to meet the foe; and carriers with food and cooking-utensils.
A vast rumour filled the air as the force passed on, the men chattering and laughing, some of them chanting the war-songs of their tribes, others inventing songs on the spur of the moment and repeating the words to the thousandth time to the same weird music. These songs for the most part sounded the praises of Kuboko. "Kuboko is stronger than many lions," sang the men of the plains, who knew what the strength of lions was. "Kuboko is mightier than the horn of a bull," sang the Bahima, prizing their cattle above all things. "Kuboko, the maker of fire, who poureth out the water-spout!" sang the Bairo, whose imagination had been seized by Tom's deeds during the siege. Tom was not puffed up by their ingenuous laudation. He was, rather, touched by their simple confidence, and more than ever resolute to use what power he had, whatever opportunity Providence threw in his way, for their ultimate advantage.
Between the village and the edge of the forest lay a stretch of about fifteen miles of fairly open country, dotted here and there with clumps of bush and with shade trees.
On the way the force overtook a party of pioneers, sent out by Tom in advance, armed with spades, mattocks, knives, and similar implements for cutting away the brushwood, erecting stockades, and performing the other operations necessary in the forest. At every third mile Tom ordered his men to erect a rough redoubt or block-house of earth and wood, by means of which communication might be maintained with the village if it should be invested. At each of these he left a small garrison with arms and provisions. The last redoubt before entering the forest was of larger size than the rest, and in it he left a larger garrison and a more plentiful store of food and ammunition. There was, he judged, ample time for this work of construction, for the African native is extremely quick; and, besides, the Arabs could scarcely reach the outskirts of the forest within four days at their best speed, and that period might be almost indefinitely extended if the warriors already despatched to harass them carried out their instructions thoroughly. Tom saw that, having to deal with an army no doubt immensely superior in point of numbers as well as of armament to his own, he could only impede their march; he could not hope to stop it. A general engagement could hardly be risked. It might easily result in the total destruction of his force and the subsequent storming of the village. It was his object, therefore, to fight a series of small engagements while the enemy were still in the forest, and he hoped, by carefully choosing the moment, to win such success as should give his men new confidence in themselves, each other, and him.
Entering the forest at length, he was soon met by messengers sent back by the leaders of his skirmishers, with the information that the Arabs were advancing in great force behind a screen of native levies, who were thoroughly skilled in forest-fighting. All that the chiefs had been able to do was to maintain a running fight, laying simple ambushes, darting in spears and arrows whenever they saw an opportunity, and retiring as soon as the head of the main force appeared.
From the description given by the native couriers, who reached him almost every hour from the front, Tom, making due allowance for exaggeration, concluded that the hostile force numbered in all some five thousand men, with an almost equal number of carriers. They were marching in a column nearly five miles in length, the narrowness of the forest track rendering it almost impossible to proceed except in single file.
On the second day, Tom, marching now at the head of his troops, came to a broad stream, which, as he had learnt already from his scouts, was in full flood from the recent rains. He was hardly prepared to find it so broad and deep as it was, and though it could easily be swum, it was necessary to find a ford if the food and ammunition were to be got across in safety. The bank was steep, and covered with rank bush growing as high as a man. "Better try myself; it will be quickest in the long run," he said to himself, and, sliding down the slippery bank, he waded into the water. It was icy cold, and as he walked towards the middle of the stream, and the water rose as high as his chest, he gasped for breath. The current was fairly strong; he could scarcely keep his feet; and at last he found it impossible to do so. But only a few yards to the right he noticed that the water was swirling and foaming, and, swimming to that point, his feet, as he expected, touched bottom on some rocks. There he waded across, clambered up the bank, and ordered his men on the other side to cut a new path down the shelving bank opposite the ford he had so opportunely discovered. There the whole force crossed, the water reaching a little above their knees, and Tom, having seen the passage safely completed, and now shivering with cold, was glad to swallow a dose of the quinine included with a few indispensables in Mbutu's bundle.
Tom had a certain advantage in the mobility of his force. Never more than a day's march from a food-supply, he was able to dispense with the greater part of his carriers; for his troops were able to take with them sufficient for their immediate needs. Retaining only one thousand carriers to bring up supplies from the large redoubt, he employed the rest in assisting the troops to fell trees and build abattis at various defensible points along the route.
He found, however, that after deducting the troops left behind in the village, and the garrisons of the redoubts, he had scarcely more than two thousand five hundred men to meet the Arab advance. The question was, how to dispose of this force to the best advantage. Learning from the couriers at the end of the third day's march that he had come within ten miles of the head of the Arab army, he halted at a particularly dense part of the forest, and proceeded, at a distance of some fifty yards from the track, to cut a path a mile and a half long parallel to it. Darkness was falling, the Arabs would certainly halt for the night, and by employing all his men he hoped to complete the clearing of the new road by the morning. At the same time he built a stockade of trees masked with shrubs at the southern end of the main track. His plan was to arrest the enemy by the stockade, which was so artfully located at a slight bend in the path that it could not be seen until they were within a yard of it, and then to attack them in flank from the bush. By cutting the parallel road he had made it possible for his men to move up and down at will over a length of a mile and a half, and to choose the best positions for pouring in their fire upon the surprised and congested enemy. The task was completed long before dawn, and there was time for the whole force to snatch a little much-needed sleep before the hard work that might be expected on the following day.
A year before, Tom would have found it difficult, almost impossible, to realize what forest fighting meant. Here he was in an immense forest, stocked with trees from one hundred to two hundred feet high, their dense foliage interlocked overhead, the gaps between them filled with an undergrowth of matted bush, rubber shrubs, creepers, and dwarf-palms, so thick that the eye could never penetrate more than twenty yards at the farthest. The path was a mere foot-track, along which it was only possible to march in single file. At some points, where the soil was soft, the path had in the course of generations been worn down to a lower level, and seemed like a railway cutting between high banks of dead leaves and debris. At other points it wound round a fallen tree, no one having taken the trouble to remove the obstruction. Here and there, too, great festoons of monkey-ropes, mingled with orchid blossoms, hung from tree to tree across the track, so thick that progress was impossible until they had been lopped down with knives and axes.
Tom, as he lay on the bank to rest, felt the oppression of the confined space even more than he had felt it during his previous wandering through the forest. The recent rains had caused a rank smell to rise from the decaying vegetable matter all around him, and he would not allow himself to think of the ever-present dangers of malaria. The night was cold. Not wishing the enemy to discover his position or the positions of his men, he had given orders that no fires were to be lighted, and, but for the cloth which Mbutu had brought by his instructions, he would have shivered all night long, and in all probability been prostrated with racking pains in the limbs. As it was, he rose from his brief sleep cold and hungry, but feeling ready for anything, and indeed anxious to meet the long-looked-for enemy at last. After a breakfast of bananas and potato-bread, he sent messengers forward to instruct the skirmishers and scouts to fall back. He thought that if the harassing attacks ceased for a whole day, the Arabs might conclude that their enemy had become disheartened, and might thereby be tempted to relax their vigilance.
At the farther end of the newly-made parallel track there was a large tree, which, dominating the intervening space and overlooking the main path, provided a convenient refuge from which it was possible to obtain a good idea of the strength and composition of the enemy's force as it came in sight. Tom found that he could easily climb the tree to such a height that, while secure from observation himself, he could act as his own intelligence officer and not have to trust to the magnifying eyes of his men. If the Arabs were ten miles away the day before, he concluded that it would probably take them the whole day to reach this point, the forest being dense, and the path obstructed in many places by the encroaching bush. He knew that his men would not be very willing to fight during the night, and there seemed every likelihood that the action would not begin until the next day. It turned out according to his expectation. The Arabs, after the harassing movements of their enemy on the previous days, had evidently resolved to take advantage of the lull to enjoy a thorough rest, for the whole day went by without a sign of them. Tom again camped with his men for the night, placing sentries for several hundred yards along the path to prevent anything in the nature of a surprise.
He was up with the dawn again, and sent forward a few scouts to reconnoitre. These returned by and by, and reported that the enemy had marched forward only three miles the previous day, and were now about seven miles away. Being anxious that they should be surprised as completely as possible, Tom refrained from sending forward many scouts, lest some incautious action should give the Arabs warning. In the afternoon, judging that the force must be drawing near, he placed some seventeen hundred men along the parallel road, and eight hundred behind the stockade, ordering the musketeers among the latter not to fire until they were actually attacked, or until they heard firing in their front.
About three o'clock he sent forward two Bairo to ascertain the distance of the enemy, and climbed into his crow's-nest in the tree. Suddenly, in the silence of the forest, a shot rang out. "One of my scouts hit, I'm afraid," said Tom to himself. The waiting warriors stood in an attitude of tense expectancy, every man gripping his weapon, and leaning forward in readiness to move in whatever direction he was ordered. Half an hour passed, and then one of the scouts came swiftly down the path, emerging as it were from a curtain of green. Tom, looking at him, saw fear in his face. His eyes were standing out of his head, his features twitching as though pulled by some unseen string; he was shaking like an aspen. "This won't do," thought Tom; "that fellow will scare the rest." He slipped down the tree, and met the man before he had been seen by any of his comrades. Laying a firm hand on his shoulder, he bade him tell his news. The man collapsed in a limp knot on the ground, and with many a spluttering stumble explained that as he and his mate were creeping along in the bush beside the path, a shot had come from who knows where, and his companion had fallen dead beside him.
"How far ahead was this?"
"Master, how should I know when fear came rustling behind me? I ran, master; my feet carried me as on the wind."
"Where are the enemy?"
"In the bush, master, tens upon tens of them. But I saw none of them; no, I saw nothing but the smoke of the fire-stick in the forest. I am very sick, master, and my old father lies sick at home. Will the master let me go and nurse him?"
Tom sternly bade the man climb the tree before him and hide in the foliage. "Good heavens!" he thought, "if they all turn out like this coward!" But he refused to harbour such a thought, remembering their conduct during the siege. He climbed the tree after the man, waited some twenty minutes, and then saw, fifty yards away among the trees, the head of the Arab column coming slowly along the path. The way was led by half a dozen stalwart Arabs armed with rifles, walking warily, looking right and left for signs of the enemy. They passed, and were followed by fifty Manyema armed with rifles and axes; beyond these he could not see. They came cautiously along; they passed down the main path, silently, watchfully, but without throwing out skirmishers. There was a gap of two hundred yards, and then came the main column of Manyema, armed for the most part with spears. They were marching close behind one another, and Tom's plan was to allow them to occupy the mile and a half on the main track between his tree and the stockade, and then to fall upon them while crowded into this narrow tunnel through the forest. He counted fourteen hundred of the Manyema; there was another gap; then, just as the head of the force of turbaned Arabs was emerging into view, armed with rifles and pistols of various make, a shot from the direction of the stockade announced that the obstacle had been discovered. Dropping from his perch, Tom gave the long-awaited signal to his men waiting in ambush, and an irregular fire broke out down the line of men scattered under cover along the parallel track. The musketeers numbered only about two hundred in all, but Tom reckoned on the surprise counting for a good deal, and the puffs of smoke leaping out from the brushwood at various points, with the clash of explosions, and the demoralizing effect of the hand-grenades, impressed the startled Arabs with the idea that a much larger force than their own was opposed to them.
The surprise was complete. Met by a musket-fire and a discharge of spears and arrows from behind the stockade, the Manyema could not advance; on their left flank there was evidently a well-armed force in ambush; on their right was thick forest, in which they could only find shelter by cutting a way. They halted irresolutely, seeking cover wherever they could. Slugs whizzed through the air and slapped against the trees; the firing of bullets was heard as the rifle-armed Manyema fired erratically at their invisible enemy. But after the first shock they pulled themselves together, and soon realized that they possessed better weapons than their adversaries. They began to move forward again towards the stockade, and Tom, passing down the line, saw that it was time to strike home. Ordering his men on the path to stand firm, he hurried to the stockade, upon which the Manyema had not as yet ventured to make a serious attack. He instructed a party of the musketeers to keep up a steady fire so long as there was no danger of hitting their friends; then, placing himself at the head of the remainder, he led them round the left of the position, and, forcing his way through the thinnest part of the scrub, with a cheer charged down upon the Arab column. The Bahima followed him, raising their sonorous battle-cry. This was too much for the already demoralized enemy. Finding themselves attacked both in their front and on their flanks, the Manyema lost heart, and, turning their backs, began to push along the path in full retreat.
This was a signal to the force on the parallel path to re-double their fire; slugs, grenades, spears, and arrows, fell thick and fast; the Manyema quickened their pace, and, with no thought now of attempting to defend themselves, crowded and jostled one another in their eagerness to flee. Back they ran, higgledy-piggledy, into the Arabs, who were hastening in the other direction to join in the fray, ignorant of what had been going on. The two columns thus meeting brought each other to a halt; but the Manyema behind, goaded now to frenzy, pushed on regardless of their comrades, until soon there was a struggling heap obstructing the narrow path. The panic was communicated to the Arabs, who, after firing a few wild shots, some of which found billets in their own men, turned about and led the flight. Now the Bahima, with savage yells, came pouring out of the forest on to the main path. Every yell had a note of triumph, a tone almost of reckless gaiety, as the men pierced and hacked among the panic-stricken foe. The enemy had by this time fairly taken to their heels, bolting along the narrow track like scared rabbits, impeding each other's movements, trampling dead and wounded ruthlessly underfoot. On and on pressed the Bahima, springing across fallen bodies, heedless of their own wounds, carrying the pursuit for miles, until they found themselves checked by a reserve of Arabs strongly posted in a clearing which had been chosen as the camping-place for their baggage and carriers. Tom, who was foremost among his men, now ordered the recall. Some of his more headstrong warriors did not hear or neglected to obey the signal, and fell victims to their own recklessness.
Hurrying back to the stockade, Tom left five hundred men there to dispute the Arab advance, with orders to hold the position as long as possible, but to retire if they were hard pressed. It was now dusk. No further attack was likely until the dawn, and Tom decided to retire five miles along the path to a position he had previously noted as offering great advantages for defence. It was the river he had crossed during his second day's march. Apparently this was fordable only at the one spot, and the steep shelving bank, itself strongly in favour of defenders posted at the top, could be made doubly formidable by means of a stockade. After fording the river on the rocks, the enemy would have to clamber diagonally up the bank by the path Tom's men had cut, as the undergrowth was too thick to allow of an easier path being made under a determined fire. The bank, muddy and slippery at any time of flood, had been rendered doubly difficult by the recent passage of so many men. A few feet beyond its top, therefore, on the level ground, Tom set his men to build a strong stockade across the path, with a total length of some thirty feet, and curved inwards at each end in order to permit of a flanking fire. The large number of active men employed soon felled enough trees for the purpose; they were split into lengths of about six feet, and planted in the ground close to one another, with transverse logs lashed to them with rough rope, and every interstice filled up with earth and rubbish. It was so placed that a defending force could dominate the whole width of the river, and Tom felt pretty sure that one man within the stockade was fully equal to half a dozen without. The advantage of the position was still further increased by the fact that it was out of sight from the opposite bank, for Tom was careful to leave the intervening scrub untouched, so that it formed an opaque screen.
The stockade having been completed in a thoroughly workmanlike manner by the afternoon of the next day, Tom sent orders to the men he had left farther in the forest to retire as rapidly as possible upon this new defensive position, where he intended to make a serious stand. There was always the chance that the Arabs, finding the direct road blocked, would attempt to get through by cutting another path, but Tom hoped that any such move would not escape observation, and that the time consumed in cutting the new path would enable him to fall back and prepare for meeting the attack elsewhere.
His calculations were rudely disturbed. A few hours after his messengers left he received astonishing news from his base. He was sitting by the stockade, enjoying a well-earned rest and a meal, when a Muhima came panting up from the direction of the village, and threw himself on the ground with respectful greeting. Rising at Tom's order, he reported that he had a message from the katikiro; that he had run until his heart was jumping in his throat and his legs were like running water. What was the message? Oh! it was that the katikiro was sending eight hundred men to the burning mountain, as Kuboko had ordered, to remain there until Kuboko came to them. He would do anything that Kuboko bade him, especially as he had Kuboko's mark; but he entreated Kuboko to remember that his force, bereft of eight hundred men, was now so weak that he could not keep an enemy out of the village. The eight hundred would start in three cookings after the messenger left, and the katikiro hoped that Kuboko would be pleased with him.
Tom was thunderstruck. Eight hundred men to the burning mountain, to start in three hours! What could it mean? There was a terrible mistake somewhere, but how could Msala have made such a mistake after the clear instructions given him? He was not to move a man from the village unless he received a direct order, accompanied by a leaf from the notebook, with a pencilled diagram that was to be the indispensable guarantee of the genuineness of the message. No such order had been sent. Tom cudgelled his brains vainly for an explanation. The message could not have originated with his own force, for if any of his lieutenants had taken fright he would have asked for reinforcements and not sent the eight hundred to the volcano, twenty miles on the other side of the village. Could an enemy be approaching in that direction? But the katikiro's messenger had distinctly said that the order had been received from Kuboko. Tom puzzled and puzzled, canvassing every possible solution of the mystery. The thought suddenly flashed into his mind: Could there be foul play somewhere? Was it no mistake of the katikiro's, but a deliberate plot to denude the village of its garrison, and hand it over to the enemy? Surely a flanking movement could not already have been effected without his knowing it? Good heavens! was the smiling Msala a villain? It was difficult to think so, for he had been Tom's strongest and most faithful helper. The suspicion was dismissed at once. Then he must be the victim of a ruse. That was just as difficult to understand. The man had spoken of Kuboko's mark. The katikiro must, then, have received a paper with the diagram drawn upon it. No one else, so far as Tom knew, had seen the mark. Had Msala lost the paper given him? Had someone discovered the meaning of it and used it for a treacherous end? There could hardly be a second leaf, for the only paper among them all was contained in Tom's pocket-book. Stay! He took out his pocket-book and turned over the leaves. It struck him that someone might have tampered with it. It was to all appearance intact. He ran over the leaves rapidly in the opposite direction. There should be a loose leaf corresponding to that which had been torn out to give Msala. Where was that? He searched for it with growing uneasiness; held the book by its back and shook it violently. No loose leaf fell; it was gone! The book shut with a clasp, so that it was impossible that the odd leaf had fallen out of itself. It must have been abstracted. Someone had played him false!
With Tom thought and action went together.
"Who brought the message to the katikiro before you started?" he asked.
"Mkinga," said the man. "Mkinga came first. He came to the village and spoke to the katikiro; he talked a long time, and gave the katikiro a piece of white rag. I was by, for I am the katikiro's servant, and I saw, and I know that I speak the truth. Yes, he talked to the katikiro, and the katikiro held out the white rag and frowned, and asked Mkinga where Kuboko was, and all that had happened, and Mkinga told him, and the katikiro said: 'It is well,' and bade Mkinga go back to Kuboko and say that his servant the katikiro would obey his lord's bidding, and knew his lord's mark on the white rag."
"Mkinga!" exclaimed Tom. "Was there a man named Mkinga among our troops, Mbutu?"
"Yes, sah. Mkinga lazy man, sah; no work, no do nuffin; grumble, grumble all time, sah."
"Where is he now then?"
"Said him sick, sah; him no fight; no, no; him go home and nurse pickin."
"Ah! And what was he in the village? I don't remember the man."
"Him fink him medicine-man, sah; go pick grass for Mabruki; make Mabruki him medicine; oh yes! I know dat."
"Was the medicine-man near when Mkinga arrived in the village?" asked Tom of the messenger.
"Oh yes! The katikiro talked to the medicine-man, and showed him another bit of white rag like the bit Mkinga brought, and after they talked Mkinga was sent back."
"You say the man disappeared, Mbutu. Has he been seen since?"
"No, sah."
"Ah! That will do, my man; go and get food. Mabruki is at some mischief, Mbutu," he added. "There's a plot to betray the village. Get together a hundred and fifty of the best pikemen and a hundred and fifty musketeers, also two hundred spearmen; all strong active men, men who have had a good meal and can be trusted. Tell them that in the time it takes to cook a pot they will start for the village with me. You understand?"
"Yes, sah;" and Mbutu went away to fulfil his errand.
Tom's mind had been made up instantly. The village was evidently to be betrayed from within, and in all probability there was an enemy now outside the gates. The only chance of saving it was to return himself with all speed, and take the enemy unawares. He could not stop to consider who he could be, or how he could have so strangely outflanked him; the only question was whether in any case it was possible to reach the village in time. It was thirty miles away, and fifteen of these were in the forest, where marching must necessarily be slow. But the attempt must be made; he must reach the village at all costs as early next day as possible, and could only hope that the enemy would not have actually entered the place, or that the katikiro, discovering the treachery, would be able, in spite of his diminished force, to hold his own until reinforcements arrived.
Within an hour Mbutu had the force of five hundred picked men in readiness to set out. Their success against the Arabs had so inspirited them that they were exulting in the prospect of another victory under the leadership of the great Kuboko. Mbutu, using his own judgment, had told them nothing of the long night's march before them, so that they might start in the same spirit of confidence and enthusiasm. It was dark, but the moon was rising, and by its light filtering through the tree-tops Tom quickly scanned the force, and was pleased to see how eager and how fit they were. Then he sent for the principal chief among the men who were to be left behind.
"My brother," he said, "I am going to leave you for a time. There is nothing to fear; a small force of Arabs is showing itself insolently outside the gates of Mwonga, and I go to scatter it to the winds. Now I leave you here in command. I trust you. You are to hold this stockade. If the enemy appear, you know what to do. Let them get to the very edge of the river, yes, even into the river itself, and then fire at them, launch your spears at them, and prevent them from reaching this bank. Keep well behind the stockade and they will not see you, so that you will be able to do much damage among them, while they are powerless to hurt you. The post is a strong one; you must hold it at all costs. You must have confidence in me, as I have in you. You have seen what we have been able to do already; though I am not here, fight as though you saw my face and heard my voice, and all will be well. If you find that the enemy is too strong to be withstood, defend the stockade as long as possible, and then retire, but slowly, and fighting all the way."
The chief replied that he would obey his lord Kuboko in all things, and fight like an elephant at bay. Tom then impressed on the minor chiefs that they must give willing support to the head. Their loyalty to himself had already enabled them to strike a severe blow at the enemy, and from this they should learn the value of union against the invader. He reminded them how one spear was easily broken, while a bundle resisted all efforts; and with a final exhortation to act as became brave and loyal men he started with Mbutu and his troops. He looked at his watch; it was just midnight.