CHAPTER THE TWELFTH--The Sack of the Farm
At breakfast on the day after the lion-hunt Ferrier, who was silent andseemed embarrassed, said suddenly--
"I say, old boy, d'you know I've been here nearly two months?"
"What! Getting tired of it?" said John, with a smile.
"Not a bit; only--well, to put it straight, I've been here so long thatI ought to pay for my keep."
"Rot!"
"I mean it. It's all very well to be your guest for a week or two, andI'm jolly comfortable, but to hang on like this--no, really, I ought topay something to help keep the pot boiling."
"Now look here, Charles Ferrier, you're a very good sort, but I'm hangedif I stand that. If there's any talk of pay, I ought to pay you foryour services. Five weeks in charge while I was droving--name yourfigure. Rounding up strayed cattle; looking after the natives--how muchthat lot? You do far more in a day than any hired man, as I believe youcall 'em in your part of the world."
"Well, I like it, and I've nothing else to do; in fact, I've a greatmind to settle about here myself, and I would, like a shot, if itweren't for Hilda. I'm afraid it wouldn't do to bring her among thelions, as your khansaman said. But here I am, learning all about it onthe cheap, and with no responsibility."
"Look here, we'll leave it at that. I'm very glad of your company, tosay nothing of your help, and as by the look of it that misguided fatherof mine has been hooked, and the widow must be rolling in money, I don'tsuppose we shall see him back here. He'll settle down in Park Lane, anddie before his time of overfeeding. You stay on as long as you like,and if you're getting experience, I'm getting your services, so we'llcry quits."
So it was left. The two young fellows shared in the management of thefarm. They found their time pretty fully occupied, and a portion of aletter which John wrote to his father a week or two later may be quotedas showing how affairs at the farm were progressing.
The rains have stopped, and I've got all the planting done. I'm tryingsome radish and rhubarb this season; also carrots, which Mr. Gillespietold me are good for the cattle. By the way, that bull we called Mosesbecause he's fierce, is off his feed; I don't know what's wrong withhim, and you might send me Barton's book on common ailments. I don'tsuppose you'll find a copy in Geneva, or wherever you are now, but ifyou're not too busy to send a card in London, I dare say I'll get itwhen Moses is dead.
"That'll touch him up, Charley; he'll think Moses would be all right ifhe were here."
I bought a few fat-tailed sheep from old Sobersides (the chief of theneighbouring village) the other day. He got them, he says, from a partyof Rendili who were driven south of the Waso Nyiro by the drought intheir own country. I don't suppose it's true, for Coja tells me theRendili live a big long way beyond the mountain, and we've seen nothingof them.
Sobersides tells us, too, that a gang of Swahilis have establishedthemselves somewhere north of Kenya, and are raiding the surroundingtribes. As they've got guns, I bet they're that sweep Juma and hiscrew. That's all we've heard of them since we licked them.
Ferrier is still here; says he's in loco parentis, and won't leave metill you return to your duties. I wonder if you tell the widow'schildren that you're in loco parentis?
The lions have been quiet lately, since Said Mohammed saved my life; butas the mistris had next to nothing to do and were getting too fat, Ihave set them to build a stronger boma, of stout poles fastened togetherwith transverse logs. That ought to keep the beasts out; at any rate itwill give the place more the look of a respectable stockyard.
I wish you'd ship a few merinos for cross-breeding. Our half-breedsaren't much good for wool. The May lambs were born with long coarsehair, though they grew a poor sort of wool at three months. Wasamadoesn't like the woolled sheep; he says they're not like the sheep ofhis country, and persists in believing that the first woolled beastswere the offspring of lions and hyenas. What ignorance! as old Marthaused to say.
Out shooting the other day we saw a herd of zebras, and Ferrier has gota mad idea of catching some of the foals and taming them. We may try itif we come across them again, so don't be surprised if you see us ridingto meet you on striped chargers. You, I expect, will be wearing stripedtrousers, light gloves, and a new silk topper.
The failed B.A. is a perpetual joy. His latest. Ferrier found a hairin his soup the other night. "Accept humble apologies, sir," says SaidMohammed, as he took it away. "In such circs. I can best cheer you upby reminding you of a verse of the little but divine Alexander Pope:'And beauty draws us with a single hair.'" That may appeal to you, dad.
I hope your leg is all right, and you're enjoying yourself. _I've_ gotto work for my living.
One day the younger Masai, who had taken a flock of sheep out to grazeat the extreme west of the estate, came rushing in breathless andreported with intense excitement that the sheep had been driven off bysome men who had pounced suddenly out of the bush. One was a Swahili,the rest negroes. They had carried him along with them for somedistance and then let him go.
"How many were they?" asked John.
"Eight," replied the boy. "One had a gun."
"Which way did they go?"
The boy pointed to the west.
"We can tackle eight, Charley. Coja, saddle up the two best donkeys andbring us our rifles. This is something new, Charley. I wonder if it'sour friend Juma again?"
"Rum thing, their letting the boy go, don't you think?" said Ferrier."They must know we'll be after them, especially if the Swahili is Juma;it's not the first time you've chased him."
"He reckons on getting away, or on our not finding the trail, I suppose.We'll take Bill with us."
But when, riding their donkeys hard, they came to the little hut in thewood, they found that the Wanderobbo was not there.
"He's gone for honey, I suppose," said John. "Never mind; we oughtn'tto find it difficult to track sheep."
They set off at full speed, and easily picked up the trail at the placewhere the marauders had rushed from their hiding-place in the bush. Theyfollowed it without difficulty so long as it led across grass country,but lost it for a time soon after they entered the bush, because therewere evident signs that a herd of animals larger that sheep had recentlyforced a way. However, they recovered it again after ten minutes'search, and found from that point that it led in almost a straightline--so straight that John was puzzled.
"I can't make out why they haven't tried to blind their trail and leadus astray," he said. "They must be very cocksure, or else they'retrying to ambuscade us. We'd better keep a sharp look-out."
They rode more slowly now, yet at a brisk pace, narrowly examining everyspecially thick bush as they approached it, and avoiding any clump ofwoodland that might give cover to the marauders.
Suddenly, when they were a good five miles, as John estimated, from thefarm, on ascending a gradual slope they saw from its crest the flock ofsheep placidly grazing on a little patch of grass about half-a-milebelow. There was no sign of the raiders, and the surrounding bush beingvery thin, they must have been visible had they remained in theimmediate vicinity. Cantering down towards the sheep, which scatteredas they approached, the riders dismounted, rounded them up, andproceeded to count them.
"They're the Welsh crosses," said John. "Forty-nine--one missing. Ican't make this out at all. Look, here's the trail of the men, let'sfollow it up. We'll tether the donkeys. The sheep won't leave thisgrass."
The trail led them straight towards a wood a mile further on. At theedge of this they saw clear signs of a sheep having been slaughtered andcut up. Entering the wood cautiously, they followed the trail for somedistance, finding that it wound towards the north. Both were itching topunish the raiders, but the trail became more and more difficult todistinguish as the wood grew denser, and at length, hot and tired, andas much mystified as angry, they turned back and came out once more intothe open.
"It's something to have got the sheep," said John. "But what was the
beggars' game? They couldn't have seen us after them, and they wouldn'tdrive the whole flock so far for the sake of cutting up one."
"Sheer devilry, perhaps," suggested Ferrier. "They knew we'd overtake'em before they had got very far, and I dare say are chuckling at havinggiven us all the trouble for nothing. Rather a poor game, one wouldthink."
"Well, we'd better drive the sheep home. It's a long march, and they'llbe pretty well done up by the time we get there."
They remounted, and headed the flock towards the farm. Sheep, as everyone knows, and as John had experienced on the road to Nairobi, are veryslow travellers.
"By Jove!" said Ferrier, when they had marched for an hour and coveredperhaps two miles, "I begin to understand what your droving job waslike. I should never have had the patience."
"I'd give anything for a good sheep-dog. I must ask my father to bringone with him--or send one, if he doesn't intend to come himself."
It was on the verge of nightfall when, tired and hungry, they came tothe outskirts of the farm. They heard the bleating of the animals thathad been already penned, and the flock, weary as they were, moved alittle faster to rejoin their kind. Coming to the gate of the boma,John was surprised to find it open, having given strict orders that itshould always be closed immediately after the animals were brought infor the night. There was not a man to be seen. Having driven the sheepinto their pens, they hurried on towards the farm buildings.
"What a smell of wood smoke!" said Ferrier, sniffing.
"Yes; I hope they haven't set fire to anything. Ah! here's Wasama."
The Masai came running towards them, followed by his son, the Indians,Coja and Lulu, all in great haste.
"The bad men, _bwana_!" cried Coja, and began to pour out a story sorapidly that John, familiar as he now was with Swahili, could makelittle of it, especially as Lulu and the Masai joined in with greatexcitement. John silenced them, and asked Said Mohammed to explain whathad happened. His story, told in more direct and natural language thanJohn had ever heard from him before, was as follows. About half-an-hourafter John had started in pursuit of the raiders Bill had rushed in,dripping wet, and reported that a large party of armed men, havingraided the village north of the river, were marching rapidly down withthe evident intention of swimming across and making an attack on thefarm. The Bengali, according to his own account, wished to close thegate and bar the doors of the bungalow, and defend it to the last; butJohn afterwards had reason to believe that this was Coja's proposal, andhe had found nobody to support him. Only a few minutes after Bill'sarrival the strangers were seen rushing into the farmstead. Themistris, the Masai, Lulu, and the few women of the village who had beenworking in the fields instantly fled and hid themselves, who knowswhere. Said Mohammed went into his own house, and there awaited thecoming of the enemy, resolved to die for the sahib whose salt he hadeaten. The men seized him and dragged him forth, demanding that heshould tell them where the rifles and ammunition were kept.
"That made me very ratty, sir," said the Bengali. "What! should I telltales out of school? But when those fearful bounders threatened toroast me at my own fire I reflected that it could not be your wish, northe wish of your excellent progenitor, that a failed B.A. of CalcuttaUniversity should be roast joint for the sake of a quantity ofvillainous saltpetre, et cetera, and therefore I owned up. But whilethe banditti were gloating and slapping their backs I took French leaveby the back door, and lo! ensconced behind the barn was Coja, who likeme had saved his bacon."
From their hiding-place they watched the proceedings of the enemy. Theyfirst of all carried all the rifles out of the bungalow; then from thelittle outhouse adjoining it they brought all the ammunition and all the"trade." The place had been stripped bare, as the Bengali found when heexamined it after the men had gone. The negroes had then shouldered theloot under the direction of three Swahilis who had guns, and when theyhad marched off, the Swahilis had kindled a fire in the little spacebetween the floor of the bungalow and the ground. Then they had hurriedoff after the rest. As soon as they had disappeared, Coja and theBengali emerged from their hiding-places, and extinguished the fire withwater from the rain-water tank near the dairy. Very little damage hadbeen done, the incendiaries having been in such haste to overtake therest of their party that they had not waited to ensure a good blaze.
In the first shock of hearing this bad news both John and Ferrier usedsuch language as might have been expected of them. It was only tooclear now that the sheep-stealing had been a mere blind, cunninglydevised to decoy them from the farm while the real raid was effected. ToJohn it was a disaster. When he hurried into the outhouses and bungalowand found that rifles, ammunition, and every bundle of "trade" weregone, he felt that ruin stared him in the face. It is not surprisingthat, tired out after his long day's work, he saw things even blackerthan they were. There was still a balance at the bank, Cousin Sylviahaving insisted on paying all the expenses of Mr. Halliday's tour;though if John drew upon that there would be little or no reserve incase the second year's working turned out unprofitable. Meanwhile theactual loss was heavy, and the inconvenience perhaps greater, forwithout the "trade" he could not pay the labourers from the village, andwhat with the lack of wages and the damage to their employer's prestige,John foresaw a refusal to work any more.
An examination of the bungalow showed that the floor was little morethan scorched. Nothing had been taken from it except the rifles, so faras John could see. He kept very little cash, but that was intact. Hisrupee notes were always stowed for security in the pockets of his belt.It was clear that the raiders had come for arms and "trade" only, andhaving got what they wanted had wasted no time in merely looting.
"We can't sit down under this," said John, when he had realized theextent of his loss. "Yet I don't know what on earth we can do. We'vetwo rifles and twenty rounds apiece, against--how many did theseruffians number, khansaman?"
"In mental arithmetic, sir, I am mere greenhorn, rank duffer; but fromcursory squint I figure them at five hundred."
"Oh, come now, that won't do. If they had been so many they wouldn'thave been in such a hurry, Where's Bill?"
"He has not come within my sphere of influence since he ran in likedrowned rat to give us the straight tip, sir."
"Well, get us something to eat. We're famished. By the way, did anyone recognize Juma among them?"
"No, sah; no Juma to-day, sah," said Coja. "Him berry much 'fraid tocome heah, 'cause of Lulu, sah. Him show him face, ha! ha! she give himwhat for, sah."
"Go and get your supper."
John spoke irritably. Normally good-tempered, he was now unlikehimself.
"And I might have guessed it if I had any gumption," he said to Ferrier."Juma took advantage of the sheep straying to run off with our riflesbefore, and it didn't require much ingenuity to invent the ruse."
"Cheer up, old chap. You'll feel better when you've had some grub. It'svery sickening, but as you say, I don't see what we can do."
It was now quite dark, and they ate their supper in silence. Even SaidMohammed's excellent cookery could not overcome John's furious disgustat having been tricked. When the Bengali brought in an omelet he said--
"A thousand and one pardons, sir. The wanderer, videlicet Wanderobbo,has returned, and asks for honour of confab."
"Bring him in, and fetch Coja; it takes too long to understand Billwithout him."
Bill had come to report that he had followed up the raiders for severalmiles to the north. They had robbed the villagers of all theirfoodstuffs, and all the "trade" which they had received as wages fortheir work on the farm, and then marched directly northward, comingafter a few miles to an encampment where they were presently joined by asmaller party from the west. When he came to this part of his storyBill grew much excited. In the leader of the smaller party herecognized one of the safari which years before had attacked hisvillage, killed his people, and plundered their store of ivory--theivory which by rights belonged to him, and which
he would yet recover.
"But that's nonsense," said John. "If these people seized his ivoryyears ago, it has all been sold long before this."
When this was interpreted to Bill he was like a man demented, and pouredout a torrent of incoherent speech which even Coja was unable tounderstand. John dismissed them both, thinking that the Wanderobbo musthave brooded over some old grievance until it had turned his brain.
"Bill's report has given me a notion," he said to Ferrier presently. "Ifthey looted the village they'll be pretty heavily loaded and will goslowly. They won't march during the night, and if this businesshappened about five hours ago we ought to be able to overtake them if westart early in the morning."
"But, my dear fellow----" began Ferrier.
"Oh, I know it's a risk, and we're outnumbered, and we ought to beprudent, and all the other things that people say who sit in easy-chairsand wear goloshes. But it's the only thing to be done, and I'm going todo it."
"But do you think it's right to leave the farm? Wouldn't yourfather----"
"Hang--no, I don't mean that; I'm afraid I'm rather a bad-tempered bruteto-night, old fellow; but look at it clearly, and you'll agree with me.If we sit down under this they'll try it on again. The farm will neverbe safe. We might as well cut our sticks at once."
"Why not apply to the Government?"
"Absolutely useless. To begin with, it would take time, and the raiderswould be who knows how far away? If they belong to that gang we heardof who've got some sort of a fort up north, they're in a country whereprecious few white men have ever been, if any. It would be sheer follyto send a police column into the hills after a roving band of this sort.No, it's a settlers' job; it's one of the risks we run, like the lions,and we've got to deal with it."
"Well, but how are you going to set about it?"
"How are _we_ going to, you mean."
"A slip of the tongue, old chap. Of course I'm with you, all along theline. How are we going to set about it, then?"
"Don't know yet. That's what we've got to decide before we go to bedto-night. One thing's certain, we must make up our minds quickly, startsoon, and hurry like the very dickens, for if there's any truth in thistale of a fort, we must collar our rifles and ammunition before they getto it, or we're done. That's the first thing: to get our rifles back."
"That's a large order. How many did they take?"
"Four and a shot-gun. If they're the same lot we dealt with beforethey'll have about a dozen now. I know we don't stand the ghost of achance of recovering them in a fight; that's absurd; but I rather thinkif we put our heads together we can find some way of diddling them."
"If it's a matter of brains I'm conceited enough to believe we have theodds, but there's a lot to consider besides. We shall have to take asafari to carry provisions, and a pretty big one if we're going to bluffthem. They won't bolt as they did before. Well, where will you getyour safari from?"
"The village. What are you smiling at? Snakes, I forgot they've runoff with all my "trade." I've nothing to pay porters with. That's bad.Still, the chief has known us some time, and perhaps he'll trust us.I'll see, first thing in the morning."
"Who will you leave in charge of the farm? Not the Bengali?"
"Rather not. He may be a very Nimrod in the Sunderbunds, but he's afunk-stick here. No; Coja's a better man."
"But you'll want him to interpret."
"'M. Afraid I shall. I can rub along pretty well with Swahili by thistime, but we may come across a tribe who don't know it, and that wouldcertainly be awkward. Well, Coja must come with us, then."
"What I suggest is that you should send a note to Mr. Gillespie and askhim to send up a respectable European to take charge. He might comehimself; he hasn't paid you the visit he promised, and if you tell himwhat you're after I'm sure he'll do what he can. Besides, if we getbowled over, you know, it would be just as well he should have heardabout the business beforehand, for your father's sake. And I'd send anote to the Commissioner at Fort Hall too; he may be inclined to stretcha point."
"I'll do both. A good idea to get Gillespie up here, or some one he cantrust. Of course if we're lucky we shall get our rifles and things andbe back here long before he could arrive. But then we mayn't. I'llwrite before we turn in. That's settled."
"Don't you think we ought to have some sort of a plan before we start?"
"Our plan is to go straight after the raiders, and march two miles ormore to their one."
"That's all right; but what if they reckon on being pursued and lay atrap for us? You see, they were pursued last time, and they hadn't donenearly so much damage then."
"That's true," said John; "but on the other hand there's such a lot ofthem this time--we can divide Mohammed's five hundred by five--there'ssuch a lot that they may think we'll not attempt to bring them to book.Still, we ought to be on our guard. The worst of it is that if we haveto go carefully we shall have to go slowly, and time's everything inthis job. Hand me a cigarette and let's think it over."
"Any good asking Bill?"
"Not a bit. He can do tracking, follow his nose, but that's about all.Besides, he's so cranky just now that he's fit for nothing. I wonderhow much truth there is in this ivory yarn of his? We may get to thebottom of it by and by. But this plan of ours--any ideas, Charley?"
"Not a ghost of one. We _must_ follow the track, and that may lead usinto an ambush."
"Wait a bit, though. If we could march on a line parallel to it wemight go as fast as we liked without much danger."
"How could we do that--far enough away from it not to be spotted, andyet near enough not to lose it?"
"Of course we couldn't all go together; some one must keep on the track,and that must be Bill for one."
"That wouldn't be much good. How could we keep in touch with him? I'vegot a field-glass, but that will be useless if we have to go throughmuch wood. We can't rig Bill up with wireless!"
"No, but I'll tell you what we can do. You take the safari on theparallel line; I'll go with Bill and take my pocket-mirror with me. Itwill make a fine heliograph. You know the code, of course?"
"I do, as it happens. I could signal back with my watch-case. But thatwon't help us if there's a wood or a hill between us."
"Well, we must chance that; and as Bill and I shall be able to go muchfaster than you with the safari, we can come over to you if necessary;you see what I mean: come and go between the two tracks and yet keep upwith you."
"I think that's got it. I suppose it's no use thinking what we'll dowhen we come up with the raiders?"
"No; all will depend on when we find them, and where. I'm not going tothink of that, and as we shall have to be up early to interview thechief and get our things together, I vote we go to bed."
"Don't forget your letters."
"Right. Off you go. Goodness knows when we'll sleep next."
John wrote the two letters he had spoken of, and a third, a brief noteto his father explaining what had happened. Then he went to bedthoroughly tired out, and slept like a top.
Next morning one of the most serious of his difficulties wasunexpectedly removed. As soon as it was light, the chief came over fromthe village with some of his people to beg the msungu to follow up thebad men and recover the stores they had stolen. John jumped at theopportunity. He agreed to do so if the chief would allow forty of hisstrongest young men to act as porters. He pointed out that thevillagers had as great a cause of quarrel with the raiders as he hadhimself, so that the bargain he proposed was reasonable. The chiefagreed to it at once. John's recent exploits in slaying the rhinocerosand the lion, his former successes against the raiders, and above allhis fairness and punctuality in paying the villagers for their labour,had won him the respect of his neighbours, and they joined him with fullconfidence that the expedition would be successful. Preparations werequickly made, a considerable quantity of food was packed up, two runnerswere sent off with the letters, and by seven o'clock the safari w
asready to start.
At the last moment Said Mohammed came up to John.
"With submission, sir," he said, "I offer myself as unit in thisexpeditionary force. I undertake to be no cipher, but integer, sir, andnot a minus quantity. Need I remind you of the saying of some great andglorious general whose name I have forgotten, that an army marches uponits tummy? _Verb. sap_. Grub, sir, is the sinews of war, andastounding military gumption is no go without a cook. Furthermore, wasI not honoured to interpose unworthy corpus between raging lion and yourhonour's nobility? If so, what is a life saved if not also preserved?Permit me, therefore, to be the life-preserver."
"All right. Hurry up! No time to waste," said John, remarking toFerrier, as the Bengali went off to fetch his bundle: "I suppose he'safraid the place will be attacked again in our absence."
"A bad look-out if it is."
"Well, we shall soon find out whether the whole gang of the raiders areon the march. If they are, I don't think they'll come back, and asnobody else has molested us for more than a year I think we may bepretty easy. Now, khansaman, buck up; we're off."
John had already decided that every member of the party should go onfoot. Donkeys might prove a great nuisance if the country wasdifficult; moreover, mounted men would form conspicuous objects in theplains. Accordingly Ferrier and he had donned stout-soled boots, andset off to tramp after Bill and Coja, who had gone ahead with the chiefto select the men for the safari. Said Mohammed brought up the rear.
Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African Highlands Page 13
