Samba: A Story of the Rubber Slaves of the Congo

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER IV

  Night Alarms

  In the course of an hour or two Mr. Martindale's canoe reached thecamp, on a piece of rising ground immediately above the river. Here hefound the rest of his party--some fifty strong West Africannatives--the three canoes in which they had come up stream lying noseto stern along the low bank, only the first being moored, the othersroped to it.

  The party had reached the spot three days before, and were restingafter the fatigues of their journey. These had been by no meansslight, for the men had had to haul the canoes through the rapids, andsometimes to make portages for a considerable distance. Fortunatelythe canoes were not heavily laden. They contained merely a good stockof food, and a few simple mining tools. This was only a prospectingtrip, as Mr. Martindale was careful to explain before leaving Boma.

  His friend Barnard's instructions had been clear enough. The discoveryhad been accidental. Coming one day, in the course of his wanderings,to the village of Ilola, he happened to learn that the chief's son wasdown with fever. The villagers had been somewhat unfriendly, andBarnard was not loth to purchase their goodwill by doing what he couldfor the boy. He cured the fever. The chief, like most of the negroesof Central Africa, had strong family affections, and was eager to givesome practical token of his gratitude for his son's recovery. Whentaking the boy's pulse, Barnard had timed the beats by means of hisgold repeater. The chief looked on in wonderment, believing that themysterious sounds he heard from the watch were part of the stranger'smagic. When the cure was complete, he asked Barnard to present himwith the magic box; but the American made him understand by signs thathe could not give it away; besides, it was useful only to the whiteman. Whereupon the chief had a happy thought. If the yellow metal wasvaluable, his friend and benefactor would like to obtain more of it.There was plenty to be found within a short distance of the village.The chief would tell him where it was, but him alone, conditionally.He must promise that if he came for it, or sent any one for it, thepeople of Ilola should not be injured; for every month brought newsfrom afar of the terrible things that were done by the white men intheir hunt for rubber. Perhaps the same might happen if white men cameto look for gold.

  Barnard gave the chief the desired assurance, undertaking that no harmshould come to him or his people if he showed where the gold was to befound. The American was then led across a vast stretch of swampyground to a rugged hill some three or four miles from Ilola. Through adeep fissure in the hillside brawled a rapid stream, and in its sandybed the traveller discerned clear traces of the precious metal.

  Barnard explained to Mr. Martindale that Ilola was several days'journey above the rapids on the Lemba, a sub-tributary of the Congo,and provided him with a rough map on which he had traced the course ofthe streams he would have to navigate to reach it. But even withoutthe map it might be found without much difficulty: its name was wellknown among the natives along the upper reaches of the river, the chiefbeing lord of several villages.

  So far Mr. Martindale's journey had been without a hitch, and he wasnow within three or four days of his destination. It was the custom ofthe party to stay at night in or near a native village. There a hutcould usually be got for the white men, and Barnard had told them thata hut was for many reasons preferable to a tent. Sudden storms werenot infrequent in these latitudes, especially at night--a tent might beblown or washed away almost without warning, while a well-built nativehut would stand fast. Moreover, a tent is at the best uncomfortablyhot and close; a hut is more roomy, and the chinks in the matting ofwhich its sides commonly consist allow a freer passage of air. Thefloor too is dry and hard, often raised above the ground outside; andthe roof, made of bamboo and thatched with palm leaves and coarsegrasses, is rain-tight.

  Up to the present Mr. Martindale had met with nothing but friendlinessfrom the natives, and a hut had always been at his disposal. But hehad now reached a part of the river where the people knew white menonly by hearsay, and could not distinguish between inoffensivetravellers and the grasping agents whose cruelty rumour was spreadingthrough the land. The people of the village where he wished to put upfor this night were surly and suspicious, and he decided for once tosleep in his tent on the river bank instead of in a hut.

  The party had barely finished their evening meal when the sun sank, andin a few minutes all was dark. Samba had been handed over to Barney,whose hospital experience enabled him to tend the boy's wound with nolittle dexterity, and the boy went happily to sleep in Barney's tent,his arm round Pat's neck. Jack shared his uncle's tent. He had beensomewhat excited by the scenes and events of the day, and did not fallasleep the moment he lay down, as he usually did. The tent was verywarm and stuffy; the mosquitoes found weak spots in his curtains andsought diligently for unexplored regions of his skin, until he foundthe conditions intolerable. He got up, envying his uncle, who wassound asleep, his snores vying with the distant roars of hippopotami inthe river. Taking care not to disturb him, Jack stepped out of thehut, and understood at once why the air was so oppressive. A storm wasbrewing. Everything was still, as if weighed down by some monstrousincubus. Ever and anon the indigo sky was cut across by steel-blueflashes of forked lightning, and thunder rumbled far away.

  Jack sauntered on, past Barney's tent, towards the river bank,listening to noises rarely heard by day--the grunt of hippopotami, theconstant rasping croak of frogs, the lesser noises of birds and insectsamong the reeds. The boatmen and other natives of the party were ahundred yards away, beyond the tents he had just left. Sometimes theywould chatter till the small hours, but to-night they were silent,sleeping heavily after their toil.

  He came to a little eminence, from which he could look down towards thestream. Everything was black and indistinguishable. But suddenly, asa jagged flash of lightning momentarily lit the scene, he fancied hecaught a glimpse of a figure moving below, about the spot where thenearest of the canoes was moored. Was it a wild beast, he wondered,prowling for food? Or perhaps his eyes had deceived him? He moved alittle forward; carefully, for the blackness of night seemed deeperthan ever. Another flash! He had not been mistaken; it was a figure,moving on one of the canoes--a human form, a man, stooping, with aknife in his hand! What was he doing? Once more for an instant thelightning lit up the river, and as by a flash Jack guessed the man'spurpose: he was about to cut the mooring rope!

  Jack's first impulse was to shout; but in a moment he saw that a suddenalarm might cause the natives of his party to stampede. The intruderwas alone, and a negro; Why not try to capture him? Jack was readywith his hands: his muscles were in good order; he could wrestle andbox, and, as became a boy of Tom Brown's school, fight. True, the manhad a knife; but with the advantage of surprise on his side Jack feltthat the odds were fairly equal. He stole down the slope to thewaterside, hoping that the darkness would remain unbroken until he hadstalked his man. A solitary bush at the very brink gave him cover;standing behind it, almost touching the sleeping sentry who should havebeen guarding the canoes, Jack could just see the dark form moving fromthe first canoe to the second.

  He waited until the man bent over to cut the connecting rope; then withthree long silent leaps he gained the side of the foremost canoe, whichwas almost resting on the bank in just sufficient water to float her.The man had already made two or three slashes at the rope when he heardJack's splash in the shallow water. With a dexterous twist of his bodyhe eluded Jack's clutch, and swinging round aimed with his knife asavage blow at his assailant. Jack felt a stinging pain in the fleshypart of the thigh, and, hot with rage, turned to grapple with thenegro. His fingers touched a greasy skin; the man drew back, wriggledround, and prepared to leap overboard. At the moment when he made hisspring Jack flung out his hands to catch him. He was just an instanttoo late; the negro had splashed into the shallow water on the far sideof the canoe, and disappeared into the inky blackness beyond, leavingin Jack's hands a broken string, with a small round object danglingfrom the end. At the same moment there was a
heavy thwack against theside of the canoe; and Jack, mindful of crocodiles, bolted up the bank.He turned after a few yards, shuddering to think that the man hadperhaps escaped him only to fall a victim to this most dreaded scourgeof African rivers. But if he was indeed in the jaws of a crocodile hewas beyond human help. He listened for a time, but could detect nosound betraying the man's presence. Pursuit, he knew, was useless.Except when the lightning flashed he could scarcely see a yard beyondhim.

  A midnight encounter]

  Jack did not care to disturb his uncle. He went round the camp, foundNando with some difficulty in the darkness, and ordered him to send tenof the crew to occupy the canoes for the rest of the night. Then hewent back to his tent, bound up his wound, and stretched himself on hismattress. He lay awake for a time, wondering what motive the intrudercould have for damaging the expedition. At last, from sheer weariness,he dropped off into a troubled sleep in which he was conscious of adeluge of rain that descended upon the camp.

  The morning however broke clear. Jack told his uncle what had occurred.

  "Humph!" grunted Mr. Martindale. "What's the meaning of it, I wonder?"

  "Do you think it was a move of that Belgian fellow, uncle?"

  "Mr. Elbel? No, I don't. He has no reason for interfering with us.I've bought the rights from his company, and as they'll get royaltieson all the gold I find, he's not such a fool as to hinder us."

  "But Samba, uncle?"

  "Bah! He was egged on to demand the boy by that villainous-lookingnigger, and his dignity being a trifle upset, he thought he'd try it onwith us. No, I don't think he was at the bottom of it. I've alwaysheard that these niggers are arrant thieves; the villagers wereunfriendly, you remember, and most likely 'twas one of them who took afancy to our canoes. Glad you frightened him off, anyway. What aboutyour wound?"

  "It's nothing to speak of--a slight flesh wound. I washed it with alumsolution, and don't think it will give me any bother."

  "Lucky it's no worse. We'll set a careful watch every night afterthis. And take my advice: if you can't sleep, don't go prowling about;it isn't safe in these parts. Try my dodge; shut your eyes and imagineyou see forty thousand sheep jumping a patent boundary fence in singlefile; or if that don't work, say to yourself: 'How much wood would awoodchuck chuck if a woodchuck would chuck wood?'--and keep on sayingit. I've never known it fail."

  "Perhaps it's a good job I didn't know it last night," replied Jack,laughing. "We should have been minus four canoes."

  "And all our stores. But don't do it again, there's a good fellow.I've paid double passage, and I don't want to go home alone."

  The camp was by this time astir. The natives, chattering like monkeys,were busily preparing their breakfast. Barney was engaged in a likeservice for the white men, and Samba proved himself to be an adept atcleaning the fish which some of the men had caught in the early morning.

  "Sure an' he'll be a treasure, sorr," said Barney, as he handed Mr.Martindale his cup of tea and plate of broiled fish.

  "Is the boy getting better?"

  "As fast as he can, sorr. 'Twas want uv food more than wounds that waswrong wid him. All he really needs is a dish uv good honest murphiestwice a day, and sorry I am they do not grow in this haythen counthry."

  It was one of Barney's crosses that the only potatoes obtainable _enroute_ were the sweet variety. Mr. Martindale rather liked them--aweakness which Barney regarded with sorrow as an injustice to Ireland.

  Breakfast finished, the canoes were manned and the expedition resumedits journey. Samba kept the negroes amused with his songs and chatterand clever imitations of the cries of birds and beasts. His restlesseyes seemed to miss nothing of the scenes along the river. He wouldpoint to what appeared to be a log cast up on the sand and exclaim"Nkoli!" and utter shrill screams: and the log would perhaps disappear,leaving no trace, or move and open a sleepy eye, and Barney ejaculate,"A crocodile, by all the holy powers!" Once he drew Jack's attentionto a greenish lizard, some eight inches long, creeping down an ant-hilltowards a tiny shrew mouse. Spying the enemy, the little creaturedarted down the slope, and took a header into the water; but the lizardcame close upon its heels, sprang after it, and dragged it down intothe deep.

  "And what do you make of this?" said Jack suddenly, showing Samba theamulet he had torn from the neck of the midnight marauder. The boystarted, stared at the piece of bone, looked up in Jack's face andexclaimed--

  "Bokun'oka fafa!"[1]

  "Him say belong him uncle," Nando interpreted.

  Samba spoke rapidly to Nando.

  "Him say belong berrah bad uncle on smoke-boat, sah. Him say how massaget him?"

  Jack related the incident of the night, Nando translating to the boy,who listened gravely, but smiled at the end.

  "Why does he smile?" asked Jack.

  "He say him uncle no lib for good any more: lost medicine ring; he nofit for do bad fings any more: get cotched ebery time."

  "Begorra, sorr, 'tis like me very own uncle Tim, who niver had a day'sluck after he lost the lucky sixpence given to 'm by a ginerous kindgentleman for holding a horse in Sackville Street whin he was a bhoy.He had always been unlucky before that, sorr, and sure the luckysixpence would have made a rich man uv him in time; but he lost it thevery same day, sorr, and had no luck at all at all."

  "Well," said Mr. Martindale, laughing, "if the loss of this amuletmeans that the owner will never succeed in any tricks against us, Icongratulate you, Jack. Will you wear it yourself?"

  "No, uncle; I'll give it to Samba."

  But Samba, when the charm was given to him, looked at it seriously fora moment, then his face broke into a beaming smile as he slipped thestring about Pat's neck.

  "Mbua end' olotsi!"[2] he cried, clapping his hands.

  Pat barked with pleasure and licked the boy's face.

  "They're great chums already," remarked Mr. Martindale pleasantly, ashe bit the end off a cigar.

  That evening, when the time for camping came, there was no village insight from the river, and Nando reported that the nearest lay too farfrom the stream to suit his employer. The banks were thickly wooded,and it appeared as if there would be some difficulty in finding a spacesufficiently clear for a camp. But at last the travellers came to aspot where a stretch of level grassland ran wedge-like into thevegetation. At one end the ground rose gradually until it formed abluff overhanging the river at a considerable height. This seemed asfavourable a place as was likely to be discovered, and here the campwas pitched, the evening meal was eaten, and the travellers soughtrepose.

  The night was very dark, and deep silence brooded over theencampment--such silence as the dweller in towns can never know. Noteven the shriek of a nocturnal monkey or the splash of a fish pursuedby a crocodile broke the stillness. Every member of the party wasasleep. But all at once, Samba, lying just within the flap-door ofBarney O'Dowd's tent, one arm pillowing his head, the other claspingthe terrier, was disturbed by a low whine. He was awake in an instant.He had never heard Pat whine; the dog barked at everything; why had hechanged his manner of speech? Samba got up: Pat had left him and stoodin the entrance to the tent; the whine had become a growl. The boyfollowed him, stooped and felt in the dark for his head, then liftedhim in his arms and went out, laying a hand on the dog's muzzle tosilence him. Like other terriers, Pat objected to be carried.

  The whine had wakened Barney also; Pat and he had passed many a nighttogether. He heard the slight sound made by Samba's departure, andrising, went out in his stockings to follow him. He walked a few yardsin the direction he supposed Samba to have taken; but it was too darkto see him, and neither boy nor dog made any further sound. Barneyretraced his steps, and, wandering a little from the way he had come,stumbled over the sleeping body of one of the men placed as sentinels.He gave him a kick.

  "Get up, you varmint!" he cried. "Is that the fashion uv keepinggyard?"

  But as soon as he had passed on the man rolled over, gave a grunt, andwas fast
asleep again.

  Meanwhile Samba had walked on towards the river bank, stopping atintervals to listen. He heard nothing; not even the usual nightlysounds came to him; the surrounding forest seemed asleep. Butsuddenly, Pat became restless and uttered a rumbling growl. Samba heldhim close and whispered to him, and the dog apparently understood, forthe growl ceased. Then Samba caught the faint sound of paddlesup-stream--a sound so familiar to him that he could not be mistaken.

  He crept cautiously along, up the gradual ascent, until he came nearthe summit of the overhanging cliff. Moving stealthily to the edge hepeered over; but in the blackness he could see nothing. The sound hadceased.

  Feeling his way carefully with his bare feet, Samba slowly made his waydown the grassy cliff until he came near the water's edge, then creptalong the bank up stream. Again Pat uttered his low growl, but wasinstantly silent in response to the boy's whispered warning. Sambaseemed to find his way by instinct over the uneven ground. Now andagain he heard a beast scurry away at his approach and rustle throughthe bushes or plunge into the river; but he was not afraid: there waslittle risk of encountering a dangerous animal, and he was too farabove the sandy level to stumble upon a crocodile lying in wait.

  He went on steadily. It was not a native custom to move about in thedark hours, and, remembering what had happened the night before, he wasintent upon discovering the business of the mysterious paddlers. AfterPat's last smothered growl he proceeded more cautiously than ever. Atlast the sound of low voices ahead made him halt. Whispering again toPat, who licked his hand as if to reassure him, he set the dog down andcrept forward again, bending low, and taking care, dark as it was, toavail himself of every bush for cover. To judge by the voices, a largenumber of men must have gathered at some point not far ahead. He drewstill nearer. All at once he halted again, and laid a hand on Pat'sneck. Among the voices he had distinguished one that he knew only toowell: it was that of his uncle Boloko. He stood rooted to the spotwith dismay.

  A few minutes later his quick ears caught the sound of men moving offat right angles to the river in a direction that would enable them toskirt the cliff and come upon the sleeping camp through the forest inits rear. In a flash he saw through their scheme. Bidding Pat in awhisper to follow him, he turned and hurried back, climbing the face ofthe cliffs with a panther's surefootedness, and racing along at his topspeed as soon as he came to the downward slope. With Pat at his heelshe dashed into Barney's tent.

  "Etumba! Etumba!"[3] he exclaimed breathlessly. "Ba-lofundu baoya!"[4]

  And Pat chimed in with three rapid barks.

  [1] My father's younger brother.

  [2] Good dog!

  [3] Fight! (the natives' alarm signal).

  [4] The villains are upon us!