Samba: A Story of the Rubber Slaves of the Congo

by Herbert Strang

  CHAPTER XXV

  A Break for Liberty

  With his own hands Jack dug a grave near the brink of the river, andthere he laid his uncle to rest. The Askari looked on stolidly as hegathered stones from below the bank and heaped them to form a low rudecairn. Then he went back with them to their camping-place. He couldnot touch the food they offered him, and when they told him the timewas come to march he got up silently and moved away mechanically withthe rest.

  He trudged on among his captors, a prey to utter dejection, consciousof nothing but his irreparable loss. He saw nothing, heard nothing, ofwhat was going on around him, walking automatically in a kind ofstupor. His uncle was dead!--for the moment the world had for him noother fact. By degrees, as his first dazed feeling passed away, herecalled little incidents in his past life that till then had laindormant in his memory. He remembered the first time he had consciouslyseen his uncle, when he was a child of four, and he was dragged in allgrubby from the garden, face and hands stained with strawberry juice,to see a big man with a red face, who laughed at him, and showed him arough yellow lump that he wore on his watch-chain. He remembered theletter when his father died; and that other letter when his motherdied; and the first visit to school, when, shown into the headmaster'sstudy, the headmaster being absent, Mr. Martindale had made friends ofthe dog, and was found by the great man in the act of balancing a penon the animal's nose. He remembered too the delightful holidays,climbing in Switzerland, roaming in Normandy, gondoliering in Venice.Odd things came to his recollection, and there was not one of them butrecalled some trait of character, reminded him of some past happiness.

  Then as he walked his grief took on a new complexion--a longing forvengeance on the miscreant whom he regarded as directly responsible forhis uncle's death--morally as culpable as if he had with his own handscommitted the murder. Was this villain to remain unpunished? Thethought of Elbel induced a new change of feeling. What of the nativeswho for so many months had looked to him for guidance and leadership?What was Barney doing? Had Samba escaped the clutches of his enemy andgot back to the fort? Was the fort, indeed, still there? Heremembered his promise to his uncle. At the most solemn moment of hislife, under the very shadow of death, he had vowed to do all in hispower to help the negroes of the Congo--and here he was, himself aprisoner among soldiers of this iniquitous government, on his way to anunknown fate.

  Thus recalled to actuality, he roused himself and began to think. Hehad no longer his uncle to consider; that good man was beyond reach ofchicanery and spite. Why should he go to Boma? Nothing good awaitedhim there. He would be thrown into prison on arrival--supposing heever arrived; he would be tried, sentenced no doubt: at Boma in suchcases there were none of the law's delays; he might never be heard ofagain. What chance was there of fulfilling his uncle's wishes there?Was not his place at the fort, at Ilombekabasi, with Barney and Imbonoand Mboyo, the people for and with whom he had already toiled andfought? There at the fort was tangible good to be done; he felt anoverpowering impulse to return to his friends. Elbel had been worsted;if the resistance could be still further prolonged surely the Belgianwould withdraw, though it were only to gather strength for a crushingblow; and the interval might be seized to migrate with the wholecommunity into the forest or across the frontier.

  But there was the rub. Between him and the fort there was a band ofwell-armed Askari and several days' journey by river and forest. Evenif he escaped the former, what chance was there of success? A whiteman was very helpless in these African wilds--easily seen and followed,not used to fend for himself in obtaining the necessaries of life.Even Samba, forest-bred, had barely survived the perils of a solitaryjourney: how could a white man expect to fare so well?

  Yet, so strong was Jack's longing, he resolved that, be thedifficulties and dangers what they might, he would seize the barestchance of escape that offered itself. Anything would be better than tobe carried on to Boma, with the terrible uncertainty, not merelyregarding his own ultimate fate at the hands of an unscrupulousofficialdom and a tainted judicature, but still more as to the fate ofhis friends at Ilombekabasi.

  From that moment his whole mental attitude changed. He did not forgethis grief; that pitiful scene by the river's brink could never beeffaced from his mind and heart; but he resolutely set his wits to workto find an avenue of escape, and the mere effort brought relief to hissorrow. No longer was he inattentive to his surroundings. Withoutallowing his guards to suspect him, he was keenly on the alert,watching everything.

  It was not until the midday meal that accident befriended him. TheAskari came to a village which had clearly been for some timedeserted--another monument, Jack supposed, to King Leopold's rule. Hetook refuge from the burning heat, which did not appear to incommodethe negroes, in one of the empty and half-ruined huts. There he atehis meal of rancid _kwanga_--all that his guards would allow him.While he squatted on the floor eating, his eye was attracted by abright light, the reflection of the sun on some polished surface in thewall of the hut. Out of sheer curiosity he stepped across, and drewfrom the interlaced wattles the head of a small axe. Its edge was verysharp, as Jack found to his cost when he drew his finger across it; andalthough in parts rusty, it appeared to be of very fine steel, too fineto be of native workmanship. Wondering who had been its owner, and howit came to be stuck, separate from its shaft, into the wall of a roughnative hut, he slipped it into his pocket; it might prove a weapon ofvalue to an otherwise unarmed man.

  There was nothing to cause his guards to suspect him when the march wasonce more resumed. In an hour or two they came to a place below theseries of rapids where it was safe to launch the canoe. There theparty divided. The carriers being all gone, the canoe left behindcould only be fetched by some of the Askari; and after some squabbling,ten of them went back, the rest promising to wait for them at aconvenient spot down the river. As they paddled away, Jack gatheredfrom the talk of his escort, in a dialect which had some slightresemblance to that of the men of Banonga, that they expected to arriveat this place, an old camping-ground of theirs by the river, beforenightfall. They had placed him in the bow of the canoe, a light onesuitable for portage, with no platform, and therefore nothing betweenhim and the water but the thin side.

  Keenly he watched the banks, hoping to be able at a favourable momentto turn his observations to account. But except for a few hippos halfhidden in the long grass or reeds at the river-side, and here and therea crocodile basking on a rock or sandbank, its scaly back scarcelydistinguishable from the soil, the river was deserted. Forest linedthe banks on both sides, its continuity only occasionally broken byclearings showing signs of burnt villages. The trees were beginning tothrow long shadows over the water; sunset must be fast approaching;still no means of escape had suggested itself. Yet escape, if effectedat all, must be effected soon, for he did not know when, with histransference to a steamer, his immediate fate would be sealed.

  Should he risk all, spring overboard, and swim for the bank? He wastempted to do so, though he could not repress a shudder as he thoughtof the crocodiles now beginning to wake from their afternoon nap. Buthe knew that as soon as he came to the surface he would be overhauledin two or three strokes of the paddles, even if the paddlers did notthink his attempt to escape sufficient justification for a littleAlbini practice. In any case his death or capture could be a matter ofonly a few minutes.

  But as time passed, Jack resolved that he would chance the crocodilesif he could elude his guards. He would run any risk rather than go toBoma and submit himself to the tender mercies of the Congo Stateofficials. A crocodile, after all, might prove a more merciful enemy!

  They came to a part of the river where the channel narrowed, and thoughthe fall was not enough to deserve the name of a rapid, the increasedvelocity of the current and the presence of large rocks necessitatedsome caution on the part of the paddlers. Jack could not help hopingthat the canoe would come to grief. In the confusion there might be abare chance of escap
e, though, being no more than a fair swimmer, hewas not blind to the added risk he would run owing to the strength ofthe current and the danger of being dashed against the rocks.

  But the Askari, experienced voyageurs, successfully navigated thisstretch of the river, and as the canoe shot safely into smoother waterJack's hopes again fell. Then a thought occurred to him: Why wait uponchance? Why not make his own opportunity? He felt in his pocket; theaxe-head was still there; its edge was sharp. If the canoe did notmeet with disaster from without, why not from within? He was sittingon one of the thwarts amidships; the paddlers were standing on thethwarts forward and astern of him. All the Askari were paddling exceptthree, and these were squatting, two at the one end of the canoe, oneat the other, with their rifles between their knees. In his positionJack was almost completely screened from them. The paddlers had theirrifles slung over their shoulders; the baggage was equally distributedover the whole length of the canoe.

  Though built of the frailest material, the canoe was of considerablelength. This was the one drawback to the plan which had suggesteditself to Jack--to drive a hole in the craft at any moment when theattention of the crew seemed sufficiently engaged to give him a chanceof doing so unobserved, for the size of the canoe rendered it doubtfulwhether any hole he might make would be large enough to sink the vesselbefore it could be paddled ashore. This could only be proved by makingthe attempt.

  Time passed on; no opportunity occurred. The passage here was easy,and the paddlers did their work almost automatically. It needed noattention. Jack was almost giving up the idea when a chance suddenlycame. He heard the leader of the Askari call out: "There is the gorgejust ahead: soon we shall be at our camping ground. Be steady!"

  The canoe went faster and faster, and in a few minutes entered a gorgestrewn with jagged rocks threatening destruction at every yard. Themen stopped singing--they sang at their paddles from morning tillnight--and shouted with excitement when the vessel escaped as by amiracle being dashed to pieces on one or other of the rocks inmid-stream. Choosing the moment when the shouting was loudest and thedanger probably greatest, Jack stooped down from his thwart and,drawing the axe-head from his pocket, thrust it with all his strengthinto the side of the canoe near the bottom, where there was already aninch of bilge water. Working the steel to and fro, he enlarged thehole as much as he could, and then withdrew his clumsy implement; thewater rushed in with a gurgling noise which must, he feared, attractthe attention of the paddler just above him. But the man gave no sign;he was too intent upon his task.

  A few seconds later Jack seized another moment of excitement to repeathis work on the other side of the canoe. His heart jumped to his mouthas he heard one of the men shout a word of warning; but he maintainedhis stooping position, thinking there was less chance of detection thanif he suddenly moved. In consequence of the water rising in the bottomthe second hole was made somewhat higher than the first; and as Jackwatched the level of the water gradually creeping up, he felt that thegaps were not large enough to prevent the paddlers from beaching thecanoe if they ran into smooth water during the next few minutes. Thebark seemed to close up as soon as the axe-head was withdrawn, leavingonly as a narrow slit what had been a gaping rent. A glance aheadshowed smooth water within a few yards. There might be just time tomake two more rapid cuts. He plunged his hand into the water, now someinches deep, and drove the steel with all his force twice into thebottom beneath his feet. As soon as the canoe left the race, the heavygoing due to the water that had been shipped would at once be detected,even if none of the paddlers, indeed, should happen to glance down andsee the water washing the packages. True, they might suppose that ithad come over the sides of the canoe during their recent rough passage;but the mistake must soon be discovered.

  Jack saw that there was little chance of the canoe sinking inmidstream. What could he do? Was this, apparently his onlyopportunity, to be lost? He had only a few seconds to decide. Hewould wait until the leaks were discovered, and the canoe was headedtowards the shore. Then if he dived into the river his guards would betorn between two impulses--the one to pursue him, the other to beachthe canoe before she sank with them and their stores. To them thesituation would be complex; they would waste time in their confusion;and with a sinking canoe beneath them they would scarcely be able touse their rifles.

  Things happened almost exactly as Jack expected. When the canoe leftthe troubled reaches one of the Askari suddenly caught sight of thewater slowly rising, and washing from side to side with every stroke ofthe paddles. "A leak!" he shouted, inferring that a hole had beenknocked in the bottom by a rock. The leader at once cried to the mento run for the right bank. Jack's time came as the canoe was swinginground. Rising suddenly from his seat, with a vigorous shove he sentthe paddler behind him rolling back upon the next man; he in his turnfell upon the next; until four of the paddlers in the after part of thecanoe were floundering in the water, and the frail craft rocked almostgunwale under. The other paddlers were so much occupied in adjustingthemselves to the difficulty and preventing the canoe from beingswamped that they were hardly aware of what their prisoner was doinguntil it was too late to prevent him. While the vessel was tiltedover, Jack placed one foot on the side farthest from the bank towardswhich they were paddling, and dived into the river.

  The leader of the Askari immediately shouted to the men in the water topursue him, pointing out the direction in which he had disappearedbeneath the surface. He was making for the left bank. Glancing backwhen he came up, Jack saw that two men were swimming after him, andrealized that he was no match for them. He was only a fair swimmer;his pursuers, drawn from one of the riverine villages of the LowerCongo, were as dexterous in the water as they were in the canoe. WhenJack became aware that he was being rapidly overhauled, he gripped moretightly the axe-head which he had never let go, resolving to fight tothe last rather than suffer recapture. The negroes had divestedthemselves of their rifles, or had lost these when thrown so suddenlyinto the river; and even such a clumsy weapon as an axe-head mightprove very formidable to unarmed men.

  In the excitement, Jack had forgotten all about the constant peril ofthe Congo--the crocodiles. Straining every nerve, he was wonderingwhether he should stop swimming before he ran the risk of beingcompletely exhausted, since there seemed little chance of his gainingthe opposite bank before his pursuers, when he was startled by adespairing scream behind. The horrible meaning of it flashed upon him;he glanced back; only one swimmer was to be seen, and he was no longercoming towards him; he had turned and with frantic haste was making forthe nearest point of the bank. The second man had disappeared; thecrocodile had proved a better swimmer than any. Shuddering in everylimb, Jack for a moment felt his strength leaving him. As in anightmare he seemed to see the horrid jaws of crocodiles all round himwaiting to tear him limb from limb. But he recovered in a moment; and,still gripping the axe-head, he struck out desperately for the farbank, which was now, indeed, scarcely more distant than the other. Hetouched the sandy bottom, struggled panting up the bank, and,completely exhausted by the physical and mental strain of this day'sevents, crawled rather than walked to a spot where he felt himselfsecure at least from the dreaded reptile. For several minutes he laywith his head upon his arms, so much spent as to be almost careless ofwhat might become of him. But, rousing himself at length, he rose andscanned the river for signs of his late escort. What was his alarm tosee them hastening towards him from the opposite bank; three minutes'hard paddling would bring them within reach of him. The sight of themwoke Jack fully to his danger; he turned his back on the river andplunged into the thick bushes that came almost to the water's edge, andextended into, the forest behind. With what marvellous quickness, hethought, had the Askari brought their waterlogged vessel to the bank,emptied her of water, and temporarily stopped the leaks! No doubt theyhad been spurred to their utmost effort by the knowledge of whatawaited them if they returned to their commander with the report thatthe prisoner had esc
aped them by any means but death.

  It was now late in the afternoon. Within three or four minutes thepursuers would have beached the canoe and dashed in pursuit. Jack knewthat he must make the most of his few minutes' start. If he couldevade them for an hour he would be concealed by the darkness. Already,indeed, it was dim and dusky in the forest shades he had now entered.There was no path; he could but plunge on where the undergrowth seemedthinnest, his general direction being as nearly as he could judge at anobtuse angle with the stream. The Askari would expect him either tofollow the river, or to strike directly inland; at least he hoped thatthe diagonal between these two courses would not occur to them. Whiledaylight lasted his trail would betray him, of course; but even if themen were trained forest trackers the light would in a few minutes betoo bad for them to pick up his trail.

  In a few minutes he heard muffled shouts behind him. The pursuers hadlanded. Then all was silent, save for the forest sounds now familiarto him. He moved as cautiously as the necessity for haste permitted,aware that the breaking of a twig, a stumble, any unusual sound, mightbring his quick-eared enemy upon his track. But with all his care hecould not avoid accidents. Here a branch of cactus would rip a greatrent in his thin linen coat, with a sound that set the teeth on edge.There a low-growing creeper would trip him up, so that he fell with acrash headlong, and rose with his face bleeding from a dozen deepscratches. But he kept the axe-head always in his grasp; that was hisonly defence.

  The fall of night found him still pressing resolutely forward; but whenhe could no longer see to thread his way in the close tangle ofvegetation he halted, and became aware that he was dripping wet, andthat he had to spend the night, soaked as he was, without shelter inthe primeval forest. It would not have been a pleasant prospect evento a native inured to forest travel; the negroes indeed are careful notto be benighted far from their villages. In other circumstances, asblack darkness wrapt him round, Jack might have felt not a few tremors;from Samba he had learnt something of the perils of night indensely-wooded places. But he had lately passed through experiences sotrying that the visionary terrors of these gloomy depths had no powerto trouble him. He sought, however, a suitable tree and climbed out ofthe reach of prowling beasts, hoping that he would also escape theattentions of leopards and pythons, which made no account of the lowerbranches.

  He had never spent a more uncomfortable night. Insects stung him;caterpillars crawled over him; woodlice worried him. Dozing in spiteof these annoyances, he would wake with a start and the nightmarefeeling that he was falling, falling helplessly through space. His wetclothes stuck clammily to his skin; he shivered as with ague, his teethchattered, his head was racked with pain. Stiff and sore from hisnarrow perch and his cramped position he clung on through the night;and when, after the long darkness, the pale dawn at last stole throughthe foliage, and he dropped to the ground, he moved like an old man,with aching limbs, unrefreshed, feeling the want of food, yet utterlywithout appetite.

  But he must go on. His enemies had not discovered him; no beast hadattacked him; these were positive gains. He could make no plans; allthat he could do was to follow a course calculated by the sun to takehim in the direction of the river, going up stream. He walked stiffly,but steadily, during the morning, picking here and there handfuls ofphrynia berries--the only berries of the forest which he knew to beedible.

  About midday he resolved to risk a more direct course to the river, inthe hope that his pursuers, finding no trace of him, had given up thehunt. But it was easier to decide than to carry out. For all he knewhe might have been wandering in a circle, and the windings of the rivermight make every step he took one in the wrong direction. After somehesitation he turned somewhat to the left and trudged on, so intentupon his immediate surroundings that his range of vision was restrictedto a few yards.

  He noticed that the ground, as he walked, was becoming a little lessthickly covered with undergrowth; but it was with a shock of alarmthat, at a sudden lifting of the eyes, he saw, standing in front ofhim, a young straight dusky figure armed with a long rifle. Springinginstinctively behind the nearest tree, he grasped the axe-head ready todo battle.

  But what was this? A voice spoke to him, a voice that he knew, givinghim pleasant salutation, calling him by name.

  "Lokolobolo losako[1]!"

  He came from behind the tree and went forward, stretching forth hishands.

  "Samba!" he cried joyously.

  [1] Salutation addressed to a superior.