CHAPTER XVII
Treachery
Fording a Stream--Preparing a Trap--Ensnared--A Panic--Mystery--PromptMeasures--Scouting--The Arab Camp--A Burly Pikeman--Preparing toSpring--De Castro Escapes
The force made a brave show as it marched out next morning amid thecheers of the thousands of men, women, and children left behind. Thekatikiro stood at the north gate, proud of his office, and yet enviousof the men who were advancing to meet the enemy. At one side of himstood Mwonga, at the other Mabruki the medicine-man, who had recoveredsomething of his old authority with the influx into the village of avast horde who had not witnessed his discomfiture by Kuboko. Some,indeed, of the Bahima had pleaded that Mabruki might be allowed toaccompany them, so that they might benefit by what magical power wasstill left to him; but Tom had resolutely refused their request, askingthem bluntly whether they had not more confidence in his strong arm thanin Mabruki's basket and bell. And therefore the only face that scowledon the departing army was Mabruki's.
The van was led by the two hundred and fifty pikemen, their pike-headspolished to a silvery brilliance and flashing in the sunlight. Theywere followed by the musketeers, with Tom and Mbutu at their head. Thencame a select band of fifty, who were to be entrusted with the throwingof the hand-grenades, and with them were a number of Bairo, laden withammunition. Behind these came the remainder of the force--spearmen andarchers, all eager, confident, burning to meet the foe; and carrierswith food and cooking-utensils.
A vast rumour filled the air as the force passed on, the men chatteringand laughing, some of them chanting the war-songs of their tribes,others inventing songs on the spur of the moment and repeating the wordsto the thousandth time to the same weird music. These songs for themost part sounded the praises of Kuboko. "Kuboko is stronger than manylions," sang the men of the plains, who knew what the strength of lionswas. "Kuboko is mightier than the horn of a bull," sang the Bahima,prizing their cattle above all things. "Kuboko, the maker of fire, whopoureth out the water-spout!" sang the Bairo, whose imagination had beenseized by Tom's deeds during the siege. Tom was not puffed up by theiringenuous laudation. He was, rather, touched by their simpleconfidence, and more than ever resolute to use what power he had,whatever opportunity Providence threw in his way, for their ultimateadvantage.
Between the village and the edge of the forest lay a stretch of aboutfifteen miles of fairly open country, dotted here and there with clumpsof bush and with shade trees.
On the way the force overtook a party of pioneers, sent out by Tom inadvance, armed with spades, mattocks, knives, and similar implements forcutting away the brushwood, erecting stockades, and performing the otheroperations necessary in the forest. At every third mile Tom ordered hismen to erect a rough redoubt or block-house of earth and wood, by meansof which communication might be maintained with the village if it shouldbe invested. At each of these he left a small garrison with arms andprovisions. The last redoubt before entering the forest was of largersize than the rest, and in it he left a larger garrison and a moreplentiful store of food and ammunition. There was, he judged, ampletime for this work of construction, for the African native is extremelyquick; and, besides, the Arabs could scarcely reach the outskirts of theforest within four days at their best speed, and that period might bealmost indefinitely extended if the warriors already despatched toharass them carried out their instructions thoroughly. Tom saw that,having to deal with an army no doubt immensely superior in point ofnumbers as well as of armament to his own, he could only impede theirmarch; he could not hope to stop it. A general engagement could hardlybe risked. It might easily result in the total destruction of his forceand the subsequent storming of the village. It was his object,therefore, to fight a series of small engagements while the enemy werestill in the forest, and he hoped, by carefully choosing the moment, towin 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 backby the leaders of his skirmishers, with the information that the Arabswere advancing in great force behind a screen of native levies, who werethoroughly skilled in forest-fighting. All that the chiefs had beenable to do was to maintain a running fight, laying simple ambushes,darting in spears and arrows whenever they saw an opportunity, andretiring as soon as the head of the main force appeared.
From the description given by the native couriers, who reached himalmost every hour from the front, Tom, making due allowance forexaggeration, concluded that the hostile force numbered in all some fivethousand men, with an almost equal number of carriers. They weremarching in a column nearly five miles in length, the narrowness of theforest track rendering it almost impossible to proceed except in singlefile.
On the second day, Tom, marching now at the head of his troops, came toa broad stream, which, as he had learnt already from his scouts, was infull flood from the recent rains. He was hardly prepared to find it sobroad and deep as it was, and though it could easily be swum, it wasnecessary to find a ford if the food and ammunition were to be gotacross in safety. The bank was steep, and covered with rank bushgrowing as high as a man. "Better try myself; it will be quickest inthe 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 themiddle of the stream, and the water rose as high as his chest, he gaspedfor breath. The current was fairly strong; he could scarcely keep hisfeet; and at last he found it impossible to do so. But only a few yardsto the right he noticed that the water was swirling and foaming, and,swimming to that point, his feet, as he expected, touched bottom on somerocks. There he waded across, clambered up the bank, and ordered hismen on the other side to cut a new path down the shelving bank oppositethe ford he had so opportunely discovered. There the whole forcecrossed, the water reaching a little above their knees, and Tom, havingseen the passage safely completed, and now shivering with cold, was gladto swallow a dose of the quinine included with a few indispensables inMbutu's bundle.
Tom had a certain advantage in the mobility of his force. Never morethan a day's march from a food-supply, he was able to dispense with thegreater part of his carriers; for his troops were able to take with themsufficient for their immediate needs. Retaining only one thousandcarriers to bring up supplies from the large redoubt, he employed therest in assisting the troops to fell trees and build abattis at variousdefensible points along the route.
He found, however, that after deducting the troops left behind in thevillage, and the garrisons of the redoubts, he had scarcely more thantwo thousand five hundred men to meet the Arab advance. The questionwas, how to dispose of this force to the best advantage. Learning fromthe couriers at the end of the third day's march that he had come withinten miles of the head of the Arab army, he halted at a particularlydense part of the forest, and proceeded, at a distance of some fiftyyards from the track, to cut a path a mile and a half long parallel toit. Darkness was falling, the Arabs would certainly halt for the night,and by employing all his men he hoped to complete the clearing of thenew road by the morning. At the same time he built a stockade of treesmasked with shrubs at the southern end of the main track. His plan wasto arrest the enemy by the stockade, which was so artfully located at aslight bend in the path that it could not be seen until they were withina yard of it, and then to attack them in flank from the bush. Bycutting the parallel road he had made it possible for his men to move upand down at will over a length of a mile and a half, and to choose thebest positions for pouring in their fire upon the surprised andcongested enemy. The task was completed long before dawn, and there wastime for the whole force to snatch a little much-needed sleep before thehard work that might be expected on the following day.
A year before, Tom would have found it difficult, almost impossible, torealize what forest fighting meant. Here he was in an immense forest,stocked with trees from one hundred to two hundred feet high, theirde
nse foliage interlocked overhead, the gaps between them filled with anundergrowth of matted bush, rubber shrubs, creepers, and dwarf-palms, sothick that the eye could never penetrate more than twenty yards at thefarthest. The path was a mere foot-track, along which it was onlypossible to march in single file. At some points, where the soil wassoft, the path had in the course of generations been worn down to alower level, and seemed like a railway cutting between high banks ofdead leaves and debris. At other points it wound round a fallen tree,no one having taken the trouble to remove the obstruction. Here andthere, too, great festoons of monkey-ropes, mingled with orchidblossoms, hung from tree to tree across the track, so thick thatprogress was impossible until they had been lopped down with knives andaxes.
Tom, as he lay on the bank to rest, felt the oppression of the confinedspace even more than he had felt it during his previous wanderingthrough the forest. The recent rains had caused a rank smell to risefrom the decaying vegetable matter all around him, and he would notallow himself to think of the ever-present dangers of malaria. Thenight was cold. Not wishing the enemy to discover his position or thepositions of his men, he had given orders that no fires were to belighted, and, but for the cloth which Mbutu had brought by hisinstructions, he would have shivered all night long, and in allprobability been prostrated with racking pains in the limbs. As it was,he rose from his brief sleep cold and hungry, but feeling ready foranything, and indeed anxious to meet the long-looked-for enemy at last.After a breakfast of bananas and potato-bread, he sent messengersforward to instruct the skirmishers and scouts to fall back. He thoughtthat if the harassing attacks ceased for a whole day, the Arabs mightconclude that their enemy had become disheartened, and might thereby betempted to relax their vigilance.
At the farther end of the newly-made parallel track there was a largetree, which, dominating the intervening space and overlooking the mainpath, provided a convenient refuge from which it was possible to obtaina good idea of the strength and composition of the enemy's force as itcame in sight. Tom found that he could easily climb the tree to such aheight that, while secure from observation himself, he could act as hisown intelligence officer and not have to trust to the magnifying eyes ofhis men. If the Arabs were ten miles away the day before, he concludedthat it would probably take them the whole day to reach this point, theforest being dense, and the path obstructed in many places by theencroaching bush. He knew that his men would not be very willing tofight during the night, and there seemed every likelihood that theaction would not begin until the next day. It turned out according tohis expectation. The Arabs, after the harassing movements of theirenemy on the previous days, had evidently resolved to take advantage ofthe lull to enjoy a thorough rest, for the whole day went by without asign of them. Tom again camped with his men for the night, placingsentries for several hundred yards along the path to prevent anything inthe nature of a surprise.
He was up with the dawn again, and sent forward a few scouts toreconnoitre. These returned by and by, and reported that the enemy hadmarched forward only three miles the previous day, and were now aboutseven miles away. Being anxious that they should be surprised ascompletely as possible, Tom refrained from sending forward many scouts,lest some incautious action should give the Arabs warning. In theafternoon, judging that the force must be drawing near, he placed someseventeen hundred men along the parallel road, and eight hundred behindthe stockade, ordering the musketeers among the latter not to fire untilthey were actually attacked, or until they heard firing in their front.
About three o'clock he sent forward two Bairo to ascertain the distanceof 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 anattitude of tense expectancy, every man gripping his weapon, and leaningforward in readiness to move in whatever direction he was ordered. Halfan 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, sawfear in his face. His eyes were standing out of his head, his featurestwitching as though pulled by some unseen string; he was shaking like anaspen. "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 anyof his comrades. Laying a firm hand on his shoulder, he bade him tellhis news. The man collapsed in a limp knot on the ground, and with manya spluttering stumble explained that as he and his mate were creepingalong 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 amvery sick, master, and my old father lies sick at home. Will the masterlet me go and nurse him?"
Tom sternly bade the man climb the tree before him and hide in thefoliage. "Good heavens!" he thought, "if they all turn out like thiscoward!" But he refused to harbour such a thought, remembering theirconduct during the siege. He climbed the tree after the man, waited sometwenty minutes, and then saw, fifty yards away among the trees, the headof the Arab column coming slowly along the path. The way was led byhalf a dozen stalwart Arabs armed with rifles, walking warily, lookingright and left for signs of the enemy. They passed, and were followed byfifty 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 twohundred yards, and then came the main column of Manyema, armed for themost part with spears. They were marching close behind one another, andTom's plan was to allow them to occupy the mile and a half on the maintrack between his tree and the stockade, and then to fall upon themwhile crowded into this narrow tunnel through the forest. He countedfourteen hundred of the Manyema; there was another gap; then, just asthe head of the force of turbaned Arabs was emerging into view, armedwith rifles and pistols of various make, a shot from the direction ofthe stockade announced that the obstacle had been discovered. Droppingfrom his perch, Tom gave the long-awaited signal to his men waiting inambush, and an irregular fire broke out down the line of men scatteredunder cover along the parallel track. The musketeers numbered onlyabout two hundred in all, but Tom reckoned on the surprise counting fora good deal, and the puffs of smoke leaping out from the brushwood atvarious points, with the clash of explosions, and the demoralizingeffect of the hand-grenades, impressed the startled Arabs with the ideathat a much larger force than their own was opposed to them.
The surprise was complete. Met by a musket-fire and a discharge ofspears and arrows from behind the stockade, the Manyema could notadvance; on their left flank there was evidently a well-armed force inambush; on their right was thick forest, in which they could only findshelter by cutting a way. They halted irresolutely, seeking coverwherever they could. Slugs whizzed through the air and slapped againstthe trees; the firing of bullets was heard as the rifle-armed Manyemafired erratically at their invisible enemy. But after the first shockthey pulled themselves together, and soon realized that they possessedbetter weapons than their adversaries. They began to move forward againtowards the stockade, and Tom, passing down the line, saw that it wastime to strike home. Ordering his men on the path to stand firm, hehurried to the stockade, upon which the Manyema had not as yet venturedto make a serious attack. He instructed a party of the musketeers tokeep up a steady fire so long as there was no danger of hitting theirfriends; then, placing himself at the head of the remainder, he led themround the left of the position, and, forcing his way through thethinnest part of the scrub, with a cheer charged down upon the Arabcolumn. The Bahima followed him, raising their sonorous battle-cry. Thiswas too much for the already demoralized enemy. Finding themselvesattacke
d both in their front and on their flanks, the Manyema lostheart, and, turning their backs, began to push along the path in fullretreat.
This was a signal to the force on the parallel path to re-double theirfire; slugs, grenades, spears, and arrows, fell thick and fast; theManyema quickened their pace, and, with no thought now of attempting todefend themselves, crowded and jostled one another in their eagerness toflee. Back they ran, higgledy-piggledy, into the Arabs, who werehastening in the other direction to join in the fray, ignorant of whathad been going on. The two columns thus meeting brought each other to ahalt; but the Manyema behind, goaded now to frenzy, pushed on regardlessof their comrades, until soon there was a struggling heap obstructingthe narrow path. The panic was communicated to the Arabs, who, afterfiring 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 anote of triumph, a tone almost of reckless gaiety, as the men piercedand hacked among the panic-stricken foe. The enemy had by this timefairly taken to their heels, bolting along the narrow track like scaredrabbits, impeding each other's movements, trampling dead and woundedruthlessly underfoot. On and on pressed the Bahima, springing acrossfallen bodies, heedless of their own wounds, carrying the pursuit formiles, until they found themselves checked by a reserve of Arabsstrongly posted in a clearing which had been chosen as the camping-placefor their baggage and carriers. Tom, who was foremost among his men,now ordered the recall. Some of his more headstrong warriors did nothear or neglected to obey the signal, and fell victims to their ownrecklessness.
Hurrying back to the stockade, Tom left five hundred men there todispute the Arab advance, with orders to hold the position as long aspossible, but to retire if they were hard pressed. It was now dusk. Nofurther attack was likely until the dawn, and Tom decided to retire fivemiles along the path to a position he had previously noted as offeringgreat advantages for defence. It was the river he had crossed duringhis second day's march. Apparently this was fordable only at the onespot, and the steep shelving bank, itself strongly in favour ofdefenders posted at the top, could be made doubly formidable by means ofa stockade. After fording the river on the rocks, the enemy would haveto clamber diagonally up the bank by the path Tom's men had cut, as theundergrowth was too thick to allow of an easier path being made under adetermined fire. The bank, muddy and slippery at any time of flood, hadbeen rendered doubly difficult by the recent passage of so many men. Afew feet beyond its top, therefore, on the level ground, Tom set his mento build a strong stockade across the path, with a total length of somethirty feet, and curved inwards at each end in order to permit of aflanking fire. The large number of active men employed soon felledenough trees for the purpose; they were split into lengths of about sixfeet, and planted in the ground close to one another, with transverselogs lashed to them with rough rope, and every interstice filled up withearth and rubbish. It was so placed that a defending force coulddominate the whole width of the river, and Tom felt pretty sure that oneman within the stockade was fully equal to half a dozen without. Theadvantage of the position was still further increased by the fact thatit was out of sight from the opposite bank, for Tom was careful to leavethe intervening scrub untouched, so that it formed an opaque screen.
The stockade having been completed in a thoroughly workmanlike manner bythe afternoon of the next day, Tom sent orders to the men he had leftfarther in the forest to retire as rapidly as possible upon this newdefensive position, where he intended to make a serious stand. Therewas always the chance that the Arabs, finding the direct road blocked,would attempt to get through by cutting another path, but Tom hoped thatany such move would not escape observation, and that the time consumedin cutting the new path would enable him to fall back and prepare formeeting the attack elsewhere.
His calculations were rudely disturbed. A few hours after hismessengers left he received astonishing news from his base. He wassitting by the stockade, enjoying a well-earned rest and a meal, when aMuhima came panting up from the direction of the village, and threwhimself on the ground with respectful greeting. Rising at Tom's order,he reported that he had a message from the katikiro; that he had rununtil his heart was jumping in his throat and his legs were like runningwater. What was the message? Oh! it was that the katikiro was sendingeight hundred men to the burning mountain, as Kuboko had ordered, toremain there until Kuboko came to them. He would do anything thatKuboko bade him, especially as he had Kuboko's mark; but he entreatedKuboko to remember that his force, bereft of eight hundred men, was nowso weak that he could not keep an enemy out of the village. The eighthundred would start in three cookings after the messenger left, and thekatikiro hoped that Kuboko would be pleased with him.
Tom was thunderstruck. Eight hundred men to the burning mountain, tostart in three hours! What could it mean? There was a terrible mistakesomewhere, but how could Msala have made such a mistake after the clearinstructions given him? He was not to move a man from the villageunless he received a direct order, accompanied by a leaf from thenotebook, with a pencilled diagram that was to be the indispensableguarantee of the genuineness of the message. No such order had beensent. Tom cudgelled his brains vainly for an explanation. The messagecould not have originated with his own force, for if any of hislieutenants had taken fright he would have asked for reinforcements andnot sent the eight hundred to the volcano, twenty miles on the otherside of the village. Could an enemy be approaching in that direction?But the katikiro's messenger had distinctly said that the order had beenreceived from Kuboko. Tom puzzled and puzzled, canvassing everypossible solution of the mystery. The thought suddenly flashed into hismind: Could there be foul play somewhere? Was it no mistake of thekatikiro's, but a deliberate plot to denude the village of its garrison,and hand it over to the enemy? Surely a flanking movement could notalready have been effected without his knowing it? Good heavens! was thesmiling Msala a villain? It was difficult to think so, for he had beenTom's strongest and most faithful helper. The suspicion was dismissedat once. Then he must be the victim of a ruse. That was just asdifficult to understand. The man had spoken of Kuboko's mark. Thekatikiro must, then, have received a paper with the diagram drawn uponit. No one else, so far as Tom knew, had seen the mark. Had Msala lostthe paper given him? Had someone discovered the meaning of it and usedit for a treacherous end? There could hardly be a second leaf, for theonly paper among them all was contained in Tom's pocket-book. Stay! Hetook out his pocket-book and turned over the leaves. It struck him thatsomeone might have tampered with it. It was to all appearance intact.He ran over the leaves rapidly in the opposite direction. There shouldbe a loose leaf corresponding to that which had been torn out to giveMsala. 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 thatthe 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 andspoke to the katikiro; he talked a long time, and gave the katikiro apiece of white rag. I was by, for I am the katikiro's servant, and Isaw, 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 Mkingawhere Kuboko was, and all that had happened, and Mkinga told him, andthe katikiro said: 'It is well,' and bade Mkinga go back to Kuboko andsay that his servant the katikiro would obey his lord's bidding, andknew his lord's mark on the white rag."
"Mkinga!" exclaimed Tom. "Was there a man named Mkinga among ourtroops, 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 nursepickin."
"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 Mabrukihim medicine; oh yes! I know dat."
"Was the medicine-man near when Mkinga arrived in the village?" askedTom of the messenger.
"Oh yes! The katikiro talked to the medicine-man, and showed himanother bit of white rag like the bit Mkinga brought, and after theytalked 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 somemischief, Mbutu," he added. "There's a plot to betray the village. Gettogether a hundred and fifty of the best pikemen and a hundred and fiftymusketeers, also two hundred spearmen; all strong active men, men whohave had a good meal and can be trusted. Tell them that in the time ittakes to cook a pot they will start for the village with me. Youunderstand?"
"Yes, sah;" and Mbutu went away to fulfil his errand.
Tom's mind had been made up instantly. The village was evidently to bebetrayed from within, and in all probability there was an enemy nowoutside the gates. The only chance of saving it was to return himselfwith all speed, and take the enemy unawares. He could not stop toconsider who he could be, or how he could have so strangely outflankedhim; the only question was whether in any case it was possible to reachthe village in time. It was thirty miles away, and fifteen of thesewere in the forest, where marching must necessarily be slow. But theattempt must be made; he must reach the village at all costs as earlynext day as possible, and could only hope that the enemy would not haveactually entered the place, or that the katikiro, discovering thetreachery, would be able, in spite of his diminished force, to hold hisown until reinforcements arrived.
Within an hour Mbutu had the force of five hundred picked men inreadiness to set out. Their success against the Arabs had so inspiritedthem that they were exulting in the prospect of another victory underthe leadership of the great Kuboko. Mbutu, using his own judgment, hadtold them nothing of the long night's march before them, so that theymight start in the same spirit of confidence and enthusiasm. It wasdark, but the moon was rising, and by its light filtering through thetree-tops Tom quickly scanned the force, and was pleased to see howeager and how fit they were. Then he sent for the principal chief amongthe men who were to be left behind.
"My brother," he said, "I am going to leave you for a time. There isnothing to fear; a small force of Arabs is showing itself insolentlyoutside the gates of Mwonga, and I go to scatter it to the winds. Now Ileave 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 edgeof 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 youwill be able to do much damage among them, while they are powerless tohurt you. The post is a strong one; you must hold it at all costs. Youmust have confidence in me, as I have in you. You have seen what wehave been able to do already; though I am not here, fight as though yousaw my face and heard my voice, and all will be well. If you find thatthe enemy is too strong to be withstood, defend the stockade as long aspossible, and then retire, but slowly, and fighting all the way."
The chief replied that he would obey his lord Kuboko in all things, andfight like an elephant at bay. Tom then impressed on the minor chiefsthat they must give willing support to the head. Their loyalty tohimself 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 bundleresisted all efforts; and with a final exhortation to act as becamebrave and loyal men he started with Mbutu and his troops. He looked athis watch; it was just midnight.
That march lived long in Tom's memory. Around him was the vastdarkness, occasionally broken by the wan moonlight piercing the roof offoliage. The air was damp and chill, permeated by the sickly odour ofdecay. Tom walked at the head of his men with one of the best of hisscouts, pressing on until he felt as though he were in a dream, hismovements mechanical, requiring no effort, his feet seeming to findtheir way over obstacles without any volition of his, his mind busy allthe time with other things. The pace was slow, for the path couldrarely be seen, hemmed in by giant trees, underwood, and thorn. On andon the men tramped in silence, their bare feet making a curious swishingsound on the sodden mould. There were narrow streams to be forded,switchback hills to mount and descend; in some parts the path wasslippery, and every step forward seemed to be followed by a longer slipback. Still he tramped on doggedly, his heart beating like a hammeragainst his ribs, the men panting aloud, uttering a sharp exclamationsometimes when they struck their bare feet against the knotted roots ofa tree, or dodged a thorn too late to prevent their faces from beingscratched and torn. On and on, with never a pause, till at nine in themorning the band reached the edge of the forest, and saw the widescrub-dotted plain stretching in front of them.
For just five minutes Tom allowed the men to lie flat on the ground torest; then up again. They were terribly fagged; the fighting andmarching of the previous days, followed by the building of the stockade,had told on them all. But there was no time to spare for a protractedrest. Only half of the journey was yet accomplished, and the remainderof it must be done at a quicker pace. Walking was easier now that theforest was left behind, but the easiness of the path only incited Tom toquicken the pace, so that a still greater demand was made on the tirednegroes. They plodded on doggedly, several falling out dead-beat, therest following their leader with starting eyes and every muscle of theirlegs racked with cramp. At each of the block-houses, as the columnpassed, the Bahima in charge came out to meet Tom and received hisinstructions for signalling news. There was no halt at any of theseplaces; Tom gave his orders on the march. On and on went the columntill at mid-day it arrived at a clump of wood three miles from thevillage, and there Tom bade them lie down in concealment and rest, whilehe sent forward Mboda, Mbutu's brother, with a scout to find out whatwas going on. They were not to go into the village; indeed, they wereto keep out of sight from its stockade, for the enemy might even now bein possession of it, and in that case must know nothing of the presenceof a relieving force.
At four o'clock Mboda returned with the news that an hour before theyhad seen a large Arab force halt at a spot about a mile to the west ofthe village, and make preparations for camping. It had but justarrived, coming from the setting sun. Tired as he was, Tom saw that hisbest course now was to make a reconnaissance in person and discover forhimself what was in the wind.
He had had nearly three hours' rest during the absence of the scouts,but no food except a few bananas, for he would not allow the men tolight fires for cooking. Feeling stiff and sore and hungry, he startedalone, and made a long circuit round the eastern and southern sides ofthe village, being careful not to approach too close to it, and ever onthe alert to avoid any natives who might be in the neighbourhood. Hewalked as quickly as he could, so as to come within sight of the Arabencampment before dark. After a tramp of nearly six miles, the last twoof which had been a gradual ascent, he found himself, on emerging from aclump of bush, within a mile of the camp, which had been placed veryconveniently in a slight hollow. Even at this distance he could seethat it was a regular encampment and not a mere halting-place, and hethrew himself down behind a bush, and with his head propped on his armssurveyed the scene.
"There's a plot, that's pretty certain," his thoughts ran. "The questionis, are these men outside the village concerned in the plot which senteight hundred of the garrison on a wild-goose chase to the volcano? Ifso, their only aim must surely be the capture of the village. Then whydon't they attack? It's a big camp; there must be a big crowd of Arabsthere, and Msala has only about two hundred fighting-men to defend thatenormous circumference. They
must know that, if they're in the plot.And there's always the chance that the eight hundred will come back.Perhaps the Arabs are tired out with their day's march, and want time torecuperate. Or are they going to make a night attack? Last time theyattacked at dawn, their usual custom. I wonder if they've taken a leafout of my book, and think that as I routed them at night, they'll turnthe tables and storm the village under cover of darkness? One thing isclear: they expect to have to fight, or they'd have marched straight in,and that they haven't is a proof that I was right in believing thekatikiro to be loyal. Now, what's my next move? I should dearly liketo see a little more closely into their camp; how can I manage it?"
He looked about him. The bush dotting the ground was quite insufficientto hide him continuously from the eyes of a sharp sentry. On the otherhand, if he waited until dark he would probably fail to see much, and inany case that course would delay his return to his men, and perhaps makeit too late to do anything to frustrate a night attack on the village.Wondering what was to be done, as he moved to the left his eye caught anarrow watercourse zig-zagging down the sloping ground in the directionof the camp. He remembered it well now, though for the moment it hadslipped from his memory. The banks were steep, and the water shallow,so that he felt sure he could creep down to within a few hundred yardsof the camp without being seen, provided no one came to the brook forwater and that no sentries were posted outside. He decided to risk it,trusting to hide, if necessary, at one of the many windings made by thestream. Creeping along, with every care that no splash or rolling stoneshould betray him, he arrived safely within three hundred yards of thecamp, and then, cautiously raising his head, he peered over the bank.
There were only two sentries on this side of the camp. The nearest,some two hundred yards away on the right, was leaning, as ifhalf-asleep, on the stock of his musket; the other, half as far again tothe left, had made himself comfortable in the fork of a fallen tree. Itwas evident that the Arab leader was either extraordinarilyself-confident or convinced that he had no opposition to fear.
The whole camp was enclosed by a palisade, which Tom judged, from theportion he saw, to be about a thousand yards in circumference. Thepalisade consisted of saplings, and was not defended by a trench; but itwas at least five feet high, and from his position in the watercourseTom could see absolutely nothing inside the fence. There was nothingfor it, then, but either to wait till darkness had fallen and then tryto creep closer and look over or through the palisade, or to give up theattempt to obtain information and return to his men. He was veryreluctant to adopt the second alternative, and decided at any rate toremain where he was until it was dark.
He had not long to wait. It was past four before he left his own camp,and it was now nearly six. After remaining for twenty minutes in hisplace of concealment, until he began to feel numbed by the cold, heventured to lift his head above the bank. There was nothing between himand the palisade; a red glow from the camp-fires within was lighting,the sky, and over the fence came the noise of hundreds of gabblingtongues. He crept over the bank, waited an instant, and then rannoiselessly across to the palisade, where a few bushes would afford himsome cover if anyone happened to look over. Resting a moment, he heardthe guttural sounds of talking and laughing on the other side; thenegroes were evidently preoccupied with their own concerns.
When a little time had elapsed he got up and peeped over the palisade,and saw crowds of Manyema eating, drinking, gambling about thecamp-fires. Beyond them was another palisade defended by a trench, andwithin this he guessed that the Arabs of the force were camped. Findingthat he could obtain no further information except by venturing amongthe enemy, which was out of the question, he stole back to thewatercourse, made his way up it, then under cover of the darkness cutacross the country, passing within a few hundred yards of the village.For a moment he thought of going in at the southern gate and arrangingfor the co-operation of the katikiro and his force in the movements hecontemplated, but on consideration saw that to do so might arouse acommotion in the village and awaken suspicion among the Arabs.Proceeding, therefore, on his way, he saved more than two miles of hisformer journey, and reached his men about half-past seven. He was thendead-beat, but he had made up his mind what his course of action was tobe. Mbutu, he was glad to observe, had not allowed the men to lightfires. Giving orders that the men were to continue to rest untilhalf-past eleven, and that unbroken silence must be maintained, he ateravenously the food provided for him, wrapped himself in the rug Mbutuhad carried, and threw himself on the ground to snatch a brief sleep.
Long usage enabled him to wake at any moment. At half-past eleven herose, and ordered Mbutu to go quietly about among the sleeping men androuse them. In a few minutes they were all on foot, and, looking atthem as they stood, bright-eyed, eager, confident, Tom adopted awell-known saying and declared inwardly that they "were ready to goanywhere and do anything".
"Men," said Tom in their own tongue, "the Arabs are encamped beyond thevillage there. I am going to lead you to attack them. We shallsurprise them if you walk silently. There must be no talking, no noiseof any kind. The musketeers will leave all their ammunition behind;this will be a job for bayonets, spears, and pikes alone."
His plan was to make a wide detour and come upon the enemy from thenorth-west, the absence of sentries on that side having convinced himthat if they were keeping watch at all it was directed towards thevillage. It was natural that they should take precautions against adirect sortie without looking for an attack from the quarter in whichthey had themselves come. Leaving fifty carriers, picked up at theblock-houses, to take charge of the food and ammunition, Tom startedwith his men at a quarter to twelve.
It was pitch dark; the sky was evidently clouded, and the air had anipping rawness that seemed to forebode rain. Tom was rather anxiousabout the possibility of keeping the proper direction; but his men wereall natives of the district, and the man he had appointed as guidemarched on with confidence, finding the way apparently rather byinstinct than by the sense of sight. Soon a dull glow on their right,the reflection of the village watch-fires, served as a landmark, and inhalf an hour they were abreast of it, sufficiently near to hear theoccasional howl of one of the village curs, or the lowing of one of thecattle. They marched in dead silence. Now and then a pike would catchin some obstruction, such as a bush, a creeper, a branch of a low tree;once or twice the butt of a musket carelessly held struck against anant-hill or a rock, or a man would trip over a stone and cause amomentary break in the even progress of the column; but not anejaculation came from the mouths of the men. Tom was proud of thesplendid results of the discipline they had undergone, and ready toavouch that under proper training anything could be made of the Bantunegro. On and on they went, the narrow column crawling like a blacksnake over grass-land, swamp, and almost bare rock. They passed thevillage, began the ascent to the south of it, skirting the spot wherethe flourishing banana plantation had once stood, crossed the stream amile and a half above the village, and then arrived at a point whencethey could see the glow from the fires in the Arab camp.
Here Tom halted the men, and quietly told them his plans. The attack wasto be made at two points, the north-west and south-west corners of theencampment. Tom himself would lead one body of his men; the other heentrusted to a gigantic negro named Mwonda, who had distinguishedhimself on many occasions during the siege of the village and in theforest fight. He stood six feet two in height, with extraordinarymuscular development and great physical strength. He was absolutelyfearless. His besetting sin was a habit of boasting, which, however,was so naive and inoffensive that his mates were more amused by it thanirritated. He was accustomed to assert loudly that he was a pureMuhima, though his features and his whole physical organization provedhim to be incontestably one of the Bairo. But his valour was sopre-eminent that no one was hurt when Tom appointed him captain of thepikemen, and his skill with the weapon was unmatched. His pike wasseveral inches longer, and proportionately thicker, than
those of therank and file, and on this night he also carried, slung round his waist,a scimitar taken from an Arab whom he had killed in single fight in theforest. His men had unlimited confidence in him, and Tom had marked himfrom the first as the ideal leader when any deed of desperate couragenot demanding tactical skill was in question.
Half the force, then, was put under Mwonda's command, and he was to leadthe assault from the north-west. It was essential to the thoroughsuccess of the plan that the two attacks should be simultaneous, and Tomwas for a time greatly exercised as to how the necessary signal could begiven when the two bodies were separated by the whole length of the Arabcamp. It was important that nothing should be done to give the alarmthere, and Tom, to avoid risks, had even left his revolver behind, andcarried only a musket. Suddenly he remembered Mbutu's faculty forimitating the cries of animals. Why not make use of that now?
"You can mock the jackal's cry?" he said.
"Oh yes, sah! berrah good jackal."
"Very well."
The cry of the jackal, he thought, would carry farthest, and from itsvery frequency in those parts would not be likely to arouse specialattention. There was just a chance of a real jackal interposing at anunfortunate moment, and thus precipitating matters; but the risk, afterall, was slight, and Mwonda would not be likely to make a mistake,knowing from what direction the expected signal should come. This wastherefore arranged; Mwonda was ordered to creep as near to the camp aspossible, and lead the assault the instant he heard the jackal's cry.In case either of the parties were discovered before the signal wasgiven, the resulting commotion in the Arab camp was itself to be thesignal for a charge.
Then the march was resumed. Rain had been for some time falling in asteady drizzle, which increased to a downpour as they crept down theslope. Uncomfortable as it was, Tom welcomed the rain, for itcompletely drowned the dull sound of tramping feet. The scrub grew alittle thicker as the ground descended, and the patter of the rain onthe leaves, the soughing of the wind through the branches of the treesdotted here and there, produced a sense of uncanniness. Down they went,the bare feet of the men sometimes slipping on a rock, and Tom himselfonce narrowly escaping a headlong fall into the watercourse he haddescended in the afternoon.
Half a mile from the camp he called a halt. The downpour was as steadyas ever. There was no sign of sentries. If any had been posted outsidethe palisade the probability was that they had taken refuge in a smallclump of trees some three hundred yards to the south. It all favouredthe enterprise, for surely no attack would be expected on such a night.The very watch-fires inside the camp were well-nigh extinguished, andthe absolute silence indicated that the Arabs and their negroes weresleeping beneath their tents, rude huts, and mats. "Now, Mwonda," saidTom in a low whisper, "that is your way. Lead your men as close to thecamp as you can, and wait for the jackal's cry. Then you know what todo."
Mwonda grunted assent. His column filed off, and in the darkness theindividual figures could only be dimly recognized at a foot distance bythe wisps of light-coloured straw which Tom had ordered them to bindabout their left arms to distinguish them from the enemy. Tom hopedthat, faint as it was, the glow from the dying camp-fires would makethese distinguishing marks of value.
Giving Mwonda's column a few minutes' grace to make the extra circuittowards the north-west, Toms force began to creep silently towards thecamp. Slowly, cautiously, nearer and nearer they drew; so cautiouslythat Tom, leading the way, stumbled over a man huddled half-asleep in ablanket on the lee side of a bush. With a half-cry the man sprang tohis feet, but as quick as thought Tom flung out his right fist, andstretched him on the sodden ground. Before he could rise again, or Tomcould interfere, two Bahima flung themselves on the body, and only afaint gurgle told that their fatal knives had done their work. Tom felta pang as he realized that one poor creature had gone to his account; hewas not yet case-hardened to the terrible realities of war. But he didnot falter; a life taken meant perhaps hundreds of lives saved, andnever was war waged in a more righteous cause.
The column was now only four hundred yards from the camp. Yard by yardit crawled along, the squelching of the men's feet on the ground beingsmothered now by the heavy patter of rain on the palisade and the huts.Suddenly a stifled cry in the distance, far on his left, followed insidethe palisade by a sentry's call, told Tom that Mwonda's column had notbeen so fortunate as his own.
"Now!" said Tom to Mbutu, who had kept close at his side all the way.Instantly the blood-curdling jackal's howl undulated through thedrenched air. The men sprang forward, with never a yell or cheer, aquick grunt alone proclaiming their excitement. With a rush they gainedthe stockade, scrambled up and over, Tom never knew how, and while thestartled enemy were still pouring half-dazed out of their shelters, andhurrying up by twos and threes towards the palisade, Tom's men wereamong them. The Arabs in their long burnouses were distinguishable evenin the murk; their dependants formed only a blacker patch. Between theouter and inner stockades there was no real attempt at resistance, themen rushing hither and thither in wild confusion, not knowing which wayto turn, many being without arms, others endeavouring in vain to firemuskets with damp powder. The Bahima, now yelling and whooping, ranamong them, cutting them down by scores, and the cries of the woundedwere mingled with the exultant shouts of the attackers.
Rushing towards the inner stockade, Tom met with a more determinedresistance. The Arabs within that had had time to recover from thefirst shock, and to seize their arms. They made for the side on which,judging by the clamour, the assault was being made. A few shots werefired, at random, for no aim could be taken; but still thestorming-party surged on. The foremost of them fell back from thehigher palisade, and Tom himself narrowly escaped a blow from a scimitarwhich, if it had fallen, would have concluded his career there and then.But Mboda fortunately interposed his pike, which was cut clean in twojust above the head. Before the Arab could recover himself a secondpikeman had run him through. This gave Tom enough time to secure afoothold on the top of the stockade; the next moment he was over on theinside, laying about him doughtily with his clubbed musket. He wasspeedily joined by several of his men, who lunged and smote at the massof Arabs before them. There was the remnant of a large fire stillsmouldering in the centre of the space. Driven back on to this, thecombatants sent a shower of sparks into the air, and a flame shot upfrom the still unconsumed wood, throwing its light full in the face ofTom's immediate opponent, a pike's distance from him. In the features,distorted with rage, Tom recognized those of his old enemy De Castro.The recognition was mutual. With a snarl of hate the Portuguese flunghis heavy pistol full at Tom's head, and, changing his sword from hisleft to his right hand, followed up the throw with a desperate cut. Tomducked his head; the pistol struck with a dull crack on the skull of theman behind; with the stock of his musket he parried the cut and sprangforward at his enemy. Other warriors were crowding round, and in thepress there was no room to swing the weapon; all that Tom could do wasto prod heavily with the barrel. De Castro started back, but he failedto escape the force of the blow altogether; it took him in the midriffand doubled him up like a hinge. The surging movement of the throngcarried Tom past and out of reach, and though he wrestled his waythrough and hunted high and low for the Portuguese, he saw him no more.
Their attention having been taken up by Tom's force, which was the firstto reach the stockade, the Arabs had not noticed, until it was too late,that they were also threatened from another quarter. Mwonda and hismen, clambering over the palisade at the north-west side, foundthemselves almost unopposed, and, sweeping away the few Manyema in theinterval between the two stockades, fell upon the rear of the Arabs inthe inner circle. Mwonda himself, by sheer weight and impetus, boredown everyone who tried to make head against him. Nothing couldwithstand the impetuosity of the charge. Taken thus between two yellinghordes, the Arabs made no further resistance. They fled for theirlives, assisted in their escape by the rain and darkness which had somuch cont
ributed to their downfall. Scrambling pell-mell over thestockade on the eastern side, they rushed madly away, and became awarethat the village a mile before them was astir; shouts were comingfaintly on the air. Fearing that still another force was approaching tofall upon them, they swung round to the north in twos and threes, ahopelessly broken force; and falling, stumbling, crashing through mudand bush, over the streams, into the swamps, they ran headlong, fearpressing hard at their heels.
"Measure for measure!" said Tom to himself grimly. Many and many atime, he made no doubt, had panic-stricken negroes fled from theiroppressors in the same way. It was a turning of the tables. Themeasure the Arabs had meted was being indeed measured to them again, andTom rejoiced in the thought that just retribution was at last falling onmen by whom human life had been held so cheap.
Within the captured camp the victors were panting, laughing, shouting intheir glee. The rain had no power to damp their spirits. Cries of"Kuboko!" rang through the air, and a new war-song was composed on thespot. It was past two o'clock in the morning; the rain was beating downmore heavily than ever; and Tom ordered the men to see to the fewwounded of his force and to do what they could for their wounded enemiesbefore seeking shelter for themselves. He despatched a messenger atonce to the village to give the katikiro information of what hadhappened, and fifteen minutes after the man had started, the shouts ofthousands of voices were distinctly heard, as they raised their song ofrejoicing.
Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest Page 19
