Zero the Slaver: A Romance of Equatorial Africa
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CHAPTER FOUR.
THE MOUTH OF HELL.
Leigh had naturally asked Kenyon for an explanation of his wildexcitement consequent upon the production of the treasured scrap ofpaper, and for information concerning the murderer whom he designated as"Zero," and these details the American had promised to give him themoment he was absolutely sure that the man whom he now knew to be,without a doubt, responsible for the deaths of Lady Drelincourt and herinfant son, was identical with the slaver for whom their party wassearching. Of this last he felt morally certain, for his deductionshad, all through, proved much too correct to turn out utterly wrong intheir final act: still it was a methodical and praiseworthy habit ofhis, born of his wide experience amongst criminals of every class, toimpute nothing and to infer nothing which he could not prove up to thevery hilt, and there were, moreover, personal facts arising from theexplanation, facts of which his whole soul abhorred the revelation, andof which nothing short of the iron hand of stern necessity wouldpersuade him to speak, even to Leigh.
By the camp fire that night the white men consulted long and earnestly,whilst their sable followers crouched near them in the gloom, in abjectfear of the arrival of another unwelcome messenger from the mysteriousrifles of their unseen foes.
Not one single instant would these black fellows have remained besideour two friends had they possessed even the ghost of a notion of whereto run to, but to their terror-stricken minds the whole vast unknown ofCentral Africa, backed by their white masters, was preferable to facingthe certainty of having to retrace their undefended steps through theBlack Pass of the Dark Spirit of Evil, whose weird natural horrors wereso ably seconded by unseen, but none the less unerring, marksmen.
The conclusion that Leigh and Kenyon ultimately came to was, that theyhad better coast round the slaver's supposed position in an easterlydirection, making themselves thoroughly acquainted with the general runof the country, and keeping, meantime, their present distance from thepass, gradually work in a semicircle until they again reached theeastern exit of the kloof, when they would once more make a determinedand final effort to fathom the secret of the place; and in accordancewith this resolution the little band struck their tents at daybreak, andto the delight of the natives once more turned their faces towards therising sun.
For a full hour the little party marched cheerfully eastwards, and thentheir journeying in that direction was brought to a sudden andunpleasant end by the two leading natives disappearing into the groundwithout a moment's warning. No power on earth could save the wretchedmen, who vanished into the morass--for such it was--ere any of the partyhad even time to stretch out a hand to help them.
The rest of the black fellows drew cautiously away, with their teethchattering, and uttered cries indicative of intense fear, and nopossible argument would induce any of them to again take the lead, sothat Kenyon and Leigh had to get in front of the party and run theentire risk, whilst these cowards leisurely and safely followed them ata respectful distance.
The pair exercised very great caution, and soon grew to understand thesigns of this immense swamp, which they now endeavoured to skirt in anortherly direction, and upon the dismal edge of which they camped againthat night.
The days that followed were days of anxiety, not to say despair, for thevery ground on which they trod would often shake and quiver beneaththeir tired feet, and the whole party scarce knew whether each step thatwas taken might not prove to be their last; and it was only after theyhad manfully struggled northwards for close upon a hundred miles thatthey were once more able to plant their feet on firm ground, and tobreathe freely, with the knowledge that the treacherous swamp lay, atlast, behind them.
After expending a couple of days in a much-needed rest, an experimentaltrip was made in a south-easterly direction, with the object ofascertaining if it were possible to force the slaver's supposed positionby an advance in that quarter, but something less than three miles againbrought the party into the dreaded swamp, from which they beat a hastyand undignified retreat.
For a whole weary day our friends marched due east, and then had theluck to fall in with a hunting party of friendly-disposed natives, fromwhom Kenyon learned that they must compass another two days' journeytowards the rising sun, ere the swamp would permit them once more totravel southwards.
This quivering, quaking morass was known to the natives by an awfulname, the nearest English equivalent for which appeared to be "the Mouthof Hell itself;" and a truly awful tract of country it was, and of acertainty merited most thoroughly this infernal denomination.
These people knew nothing of any way through the marsh, and ridiculedthe very notion of such a path existing, so that it was quite clear toour friends that many days of weary travel must elapse ere they couldregain the eastern end of the kloof which they so eagerly sought toreach.
To add to the troubles of the little band, first Leigh and then thewhole of their bearers, one after another, succumbed to swamp fever, andKenyon, who entirely escaped its influence, had--as may well beimagined--his hands full for the next ten days. The American ascribedhis own immunity from fever, to his having choked off the malarialmicrobes by almost incessant smoking, but if this view of the case werecorrect, Leigh should also have been let down very lightly, whereas thereverse obtained.
As soon as the men were sufficiently recovered to move, the whole partydragged their fevered forms a day's journey from the edge of the marsh,and again camping on high, firm ground, did simply nothing until theyhad in some measure regained both health and vigour, after which theymore cheerfully resumed the road, and in another ten days were onceagain posted in their old location near the entrance to the pass,exercising the additional precaution, however, of walling in the campwith a particularly spiky and impenetrable zareba of thorn-bushes, andof placing a couple of men on guard at night.
The day following their arrival our friends decided to spend lazily incamp enjoying a thorough rest; and it was whilst Leigh was dozing andsmoking by turns in the afternoon, that the ever active Kenyon stumbled,by the merest chance, upon an important discovery--no less, in fact,than the earnestly-desired key to the secret of the Black Pass. Thematter fell out thus: Kenyon having nothing else to do, had, on theprevious night developed several photographic negatives, and was nowtaking advantage of the sun to print off a number of pictures.
As each view came out of the printing frame, it was in turn examined andpassed quickly into the fixing bath; but as he was, however, about toslip into the bath a view of the pass, he suddenly paused spell-bound,and forgetting his unfixed picture, held it in his hands, his eyeskeenly noting every detail of the place. The strong light, of course,quickly turned the picture black, and with an exclamation of impatiencehe resumed his cool manner, printed and fixed another positive, thenstowed away all his paraphernalia, and lighting his pipe, sat quietlydown and gave his whole attention to the photograph.
After carefully studying the picture for close upon an hour, throwingnow and again a keen glance at the gloomy-looking entrance to the kloof,he gave a grunt of satisfaction, and put the view into Leigh's readyhand, saying as he did so, "Well, old fellow, I have often heard theremark that photography cannot lie, but never until now have I realisedthe full force of the axiom. To-morrow, at daybreak, thanks to mycamera, we shall enter Master Zero's mysterious territory, and then itwill be diamond cut diamond with a vengeance."
Leigh was instantly alive with excitement, and this Kenyon quicklyrelieved by his explanation, which, aided as it was by the littlepicture, was as simple as it was lucid.