GORUBA AT BAY. See page [268]
THE LONG TRAIL
A STORY OF
AFRICAN ADVENTURE
BY
HERBERT STRANG
ILLUSTRATED BY H. EVISON
With a Frontispiece in Colour by A. della Valle
HUMPHREY MILFORD
OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
LONDON, EDINBURGH, GLASGOW
TORONTO, MELBOURNE, CAPE TOWN, BOMBAY
1919
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY R. CLAY AND SONS, LTD.,
BRUNSWICK STREET, STAMFORD STREET, S.E. 1, AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
HERBERT STRANG
COMPLETE LIST OF STORIES
ADVENTURES OF DICK TREVANION, THE
ADVENTURES OF HARRY ROCHESTER, THE
A GENTLEMAN AT ARMS
A HERO OF LIEGE
AIR PATROL, THE
AIR SCOUT, THE
BARCLAY OF THE GUIDES
BOYS OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
BROWN OF MOUKDEN
BURTON OF THE FLYING CORPS
CARRY ON
CRUISE OF THE GYRO-CAR, THE
FIGHTING WITH FRENCH
FLYING BOAT, THE
FRANK FORESTER
HUMPHREY BOLD
JACK HARDY
KING OF THE AIR
KOBO
LORD OF THE SEAS
MOTOR SCOUT, THE
OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN, THE
ONE OF CLIVE'S HEROES
PALM TREE ISLAND
ROB THE RANGER
ROUND THE WORLD IN SEVEN DAYS
SAMBA
SETTLERS AND SCOUTS
SULTAN JIM
SWIFT AND SURE
THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES
TOM BURNABY
TOM WILLOUGHBY'S SCOUTS
WITH DRAKE ON THE SPANISH MAIN
WITH HAIG ON THE SOMME
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. [THE RUINED VILLAGE]
II. [THE FIGHT AT DAWN]
III. [THE STORY OF GORUBA]
IV. [RUSHED BY TUBUS]
V. [UNDER THE LASH]
VI. [THE NORTHWARD TRAIL]
VII. [THE PYTHON]
VIII. [SETTING A TRAP]
IX. [THE BROKEN BRIDGE]
X. [IN HOT PURSUIT]
XI. [A STRATEGIC RETREAT]
XII. [A STAMPEDE]
XIII. [A NARROW SHAVE]
XIV. [AT BAY]
XV. [THE PROBLEM]
XVI. [A NIGHT INTRUDER]
XVII. [A NIGHT ADVENTURE]
XVIII. [ATTACKED BY LIONS]
XIX. [TRAINING AN ARMY]
XX. [THE MYSTERY DEEPENS]
XXI. [A BLOW FOR LIBERTY]
XXII. [THE DISCOVERY OF RABEH'S HOARD]
XXIII. [GORUBA IS CAUGHT]
XXIV. [A FIGHT WITH CROCODILES]
XXV. [CHARGED BY RHINOCEROSES]
XXVI. [DISASTER]
XXVII. [AN ATTACK IN FORCE]
XXVIII. [THE ELEVENTH HOUR]
XXIX. [TUBUS TO THE RESCUE]
XXX. [THE FORWARD MARCH]
XXXI. [THE LAST FIGHT]
XXXII. [A HOT CHASE]
XXXIII. [THE END OF GORUBA]
XXXIV. [THE GREAT REWARD]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
COLOUR PLATE BY A. DELLA VALLE
[GORUBA AT BAY] (see p. [268]) . . . Frontispiece
DRAWINGS BY H. EVISON
[THE FIGHT WITH THE CROCODILES]
The LONG TRAIL
CHAPTER I
THE RUINED VILLAGE
On the afternoon of a certain day in spring a party of eighteen men was marching through the rocky, bush-covered country near the north-western corner of Lake Chad, in Northern Nigeria. It consisted of two white men, in khaki and sun helmets, and sixteen stalwart Hausas, wearing nothing but their loin-cloths, but carrying on their heads boxes and bundles of all shapes and sizes. The white men and nine of the negroes had rifles slung over their backs.
They were marching wearily. Since early morning, almost without stopping, they had been trudging their toilsome way over parched and barren land, only once discovering a water-hole at which they were able to slake their burning thirst.
For the greater part of the day the sun had beat upon them fiercely; but the sky was now overclouded, and a keen north-east wind had sprung up—the harmattan of the desert—blowing full in their faces, stinging their skins and filling mouths and ears and nostrils with the particles of fine grey dust which it swept along in its desolating course.
The jaded carriers, who were wont to enliven the march with song and chatter, were now silent. The two Englishmen in advance, bending forward to keep the grit out of their eyes, tramped along, side by side, with an air of dejection and fatigue.
"We are down on our luck, old man," said Hugh Royce presently, turning his back upon the wind. "The village can't be far away, if Drysdale's map is correct; but we can't go on much farther without a long rest."
"It's rank bad luck, as you say," replied Tom Challis. "It's not as if we had been over-marching; we've really taken it pretty easy; but we didn't reckon with sickness. These Hausas look as strong as horses, but I doubt whether half of them will be able to lift their loads to-morrow."
"When we get to the village, we'll let them slack for a day or two, and dose them well. I'll tell John; it will encourage them to stick it a little longer."
He beckoned up a strapping negro, the head-man of the company, upon whom a former employer had bestowed the name John in place of his own—a succession of clicks and gurgles which white men found unpronounceable. Telling him the decision just come to, the leader of the expedition ordered him to acquaint the men with it, and urge them to persevere a little longer.
The weary, willing carriers perked up a little at the prospect of a holiday, and began to talk to one another of how much they would eat. It did not matter, they agreed, if they made themselves ill, for the little balls out of the white men's bottles would soon set them to rights again.
Hugh Royce was one of those hardy persons whom wealth does not spoil. Inheriting, at the age of twenty-three, a large fortune from an uncle, he resolved to realise his dearest ambition—to travel into some little-known region of the world, not for mere sport, but to study its animals and birds, and add something to the general stock of knowledge.
A chance meeting with a friend of his, named Drysdale, who had just returned from a sporting expedition in Nigeria, led him to choose that country as a promising field of discovery.
Being sociably inclined, he wanted a companion. Drysdale himself could not join him, but he happened to mention that traces of tin had recently been found near one of the tributaries of the River Yo. This led Royce to think of his school-fellow, Tom Challis, a mining engineer who was not getting on so fast as he would have liked. He went to Challis and proposed that they should go together, Challis to prospect for tin, while he himself pursued his studies in natural history.
"If things look well," he said, "we'll start a tin mine, and go half-shares."
"That's hardly fair to you, as you're going to stand all expenses," replied Challis. "I shall be satisfied with a quarter."
"You're too modest, Tom. Well, I want your company, so I'll agree to a third, nothing less. So that's settled."
Royce purchased a quantity of tinned goods; medical stores; prints, mirrors, and beads for trading with the natives; rifles and ammunition; a tent and other necessaries; and they left Southampton one February day for the Gold Coast. Here they engaged a staff of experienced Hausa carriers—called "boys," whatever their age might be—and started for the interior.
That was several weeks ago, and they were now approaching the tin-bearing region marked on the map with which Drysdale had provided his friend.
About an hour after the promise of a rest had stimulated the carriers, they were further encouraged by striking a native track, which indicated the proximity of a village. Tired as they were, they quickened their pace, and another half-hour's march brought them to cultivated fields of millet and ground-nuts.
The white men, walking ahead of the party, looked forward eagerly for the conical roofs of the village huts, which they expected to see rising above the crops in the distance, and were surprised to find that nothing of the sort was in sight.
"It must be a bigger place than I thought," said Royce. "A small village wouldn't have such extensive fields. Drysdale marks the people as friendly; I hope we shall find them so."
The narrow track wound through the fields, high stalks growing on either side. A sudden turn brought them in sight of an object which caused them to halt, and struck them with a foreboding of ill.
Lying in a curiously huddled posture across the track was the body of a black man.
Insensibly lightening their tread, they approached it, and found that the man was dead, and bore marks of slashing and defacement.
"There's been bad work here," said Royce in a whisper.
They looked ahead; no one was in sight. They listened; there was not a sound but the chirping of insects in the crops.
Unslinging their rifles, they went slowly on, oppressed with a sense of tragedy; and a few steps more disclosed a scene for which their discovery of the dead man had partly prepared them. The absence of the well-known conical roofs was explained. The site of what had once been a flourishing village was now desolate, a black waste. Great heaps of ashes marked the spots where the cane huts had stood, and here and there lay bodies stiff in death, from which a number of sated carrion birds rose noisily into the air at the approach of men.
Their hearts sank as they contemplated the pitiful scene. It was a new thing in their experience, though it represented one of the commonest of tragedies in that region. The village had recently been raided by a more powerful neighbour; its men had been killed, its women and children carried off into slavery.
Happily, such raids are becoming less frequent as the Great Powers strengthen their grip on the areas marked on the maps as their spheres of influence. But in the remoter parts of those vast territories, life still proceeds much as it has done for hundreds or thousands of years past.
The horror of the scene, the misery it represented, sank deep into the hearts of the two Englishmen. And mingled with the distress which every humane person must have felt, was their consciousness of the bearing this discovery would have upon their own situation. They had hoped to make this village their resting-place, to give their men time to recover from the sickness which had crept upon them of late, to renew their store of fresh provisions. But it was now late in the afternoon; the next village marked on the map was fifteen or twenty miles away; the fatigue and weakness of the carriers rendered it impossible for the expedition to advance so far.
"We are indeed down on our luck," said Challis gloomily. "This will just about be the finishing stroke for our boys."
"They can't move another step, that's certain," said Royce. "We shall have to camp somewhere about here for the night. Here they are. Look at their faces! I never saw fright so clearly expressed. We must put the best face on it with them."
The carriers had halted at the edge of the village clearing, and stood like images of terror and despair. Royce went up to them.
"This is very bad, John," he said to the head-man. "Keep the boys as cheerful as you can. They had better put down their loads against those palm-trees yonder. Find the village well, and get some water; then the strongest of them must build a zariba for the night. Get up our tent, and then we'll talk things over."
"Boys 'fraid of Tubus, sah."
"Tubus?"
"Yes, sah—Tubus done dat."
"How do you know?"
"Savvy cuts on black fella's face, sah. Tubus' knives done dat."
"Well, they needn't be afraid. The Tubus won't come again; if they did, they wouldn't face our rifles. Fix things up, and then come back. We'll see what can be done."
CHAPTER II
THE FIGHT AT DAWN
Royce knew the Tubus by repute as a fierce and bloodthirsty tribe, living in French territory beyond the River Yo, whose raids across the border were notorious. It was certainly to be hoped that the peaceful objects of his expedition would not be hindered by encounters with those turbulent savages.
The first consideration, however, was the welfare of his boys. They depended for their food on the willingness of the natives to sell. Hitherto there had been no difficulty in this respect; but they carried only enough for a few days' supply, and at present their provisions were exhausted. The crops of this village were not yet ripe; the village itself was absolutely bare; it was of the first importance that food should be obtained at once.
As a result of a consultation with Challis and the headman, Royce decided to push on with John to the next village and buy food there.
"What if that has been raided too?" suggested Challis, as they talked it over.
"We must hope for the best," Royce answered.
"And it's pretty risky, you two going alone through a country recently raided."
"How long ago were the Tubus here, do you think?" Royce asked John.
"Two free days, sah."
"Well, then, it's likely that they've gone back to their own ground. For us it's a choice of two evils, and we must chance it. With good luck, we shall get to the next village before dark. I'll engage carriers there, and we ought to be back here with plenty of grub by to-morrow night."
They set off. Both were in good condition, and they made rapid progress. But the country was trackless, and Royce could only direct his course roughly by Drysdale's map.
The short dusk was falling without their having come on any signs of human dwellings. In another half-hour it would be quite dark, and Royce reluctantly but prudently decided that they must take shelter for the night, for fear of becoming hopelessly lost, and go on in the morning.
The country was bare, consisting of rocky ground sparsely covered with scrub. It offered nothing that gave promise of a comfortable defence against the night cold, and Royce had almost reconciled himself to spending the hours in the open when suddenly he caught sight, on the crest of a low hill about a mile to the left, of what appeared to be the ruins of a small building. Such ruins are to be met with here and there in the remotest depths of the great continent, the relics of ancient civilisations long vanished. There were no signs of life about this building, and Royce resolved to take shelter there.
They struck off to the left, climbed the hill, and, after a careful survey of the neighbourhood, approached the ruin. It turned out to be a dismantled stone fort, overgrown in parts with vegetation, but in a fair state of preservation. The outer wall was complete; inside, the principal chamber, which had once, no doubt, been the headquarters of a garrison, was roofless, and such timber-work as there had been was either burnt or had been carried away. Some smaller rooms were still covered from the sky, and it was in one of these that Royce determined to repose during the night.
They had brought with them a few biscuits and a small tin of preserved mutton, and they made a meagre supper. John having noticed, as they approached the fort, the runs of ground game among the bushes, set a few snares, in the hope of providing next day's breakfast. He returned with a huge armful of leaves and grasses to spread on the stone floor of the room chosen for their night's lodging.
"It's the first time I've been littered down like a horse," said Royce to himself, with faint amusement. "There's no telling what one may come to!"
"No berry comfy, sah," said John, when he had laid these rough beds in opposite corners. "All can do."
"It will do very well, John," returned Royce. "I suppose we shan't be disturbed by lions or any other unpleasant visitors?"
"No fink so, sah."
"Should we light a fire, do you think?"
"No, sah; no good. Fire make lions 'fraid; oh yes! but no make bad mans 'fraid."
"I see—it might drive off beasts, but attract men? Very well. I don't suppose I shall sleep much, anyway."
Royce had often admired the negro's ability to sleep anywhere and at any time, and to awake to full alertness and activity in a moment. Like a dog, he seems to have no need of the preliminary yawnings and stretchings to which a civilised man has accustomed himself. John fell asleep as soon as he had curled himself up on his grass bed. His master lay awake for a long time, listening to the rustle of the wind in the foliage that clothed the ruins, fancying that he heard the grunt of a lion and the bark of a jackal far away, thinking of Challis in his camp, and of the terrible scene of desolation in the ruined village.
A more experienced traveller would have taken that matter philosophically; Royce was greatly perturbed. He pictured in his mind the barbarians swooping upon the village, the massacre and pillage, the driving of women and children into slavery; and he shuddered at the misery which had fallen upon simple and inoffensive people.
He felt anxiety, too, about the future of his own little company. The region of which he was in search was apparently situated near the lands of the Tubus, the raiding tribe whose name was dreaded by his boys; and the prospect of coming into conflict with them made him uneasy. Not that he was a coward, or shrank from the possible necessity of fighting; but his object was peaceable, and he wished with all his heart that it might be attained without offence to the native peoples, without the shedding of blood. Yet his indignation burnt so fiercely within him, that he knew he would not be able to refrain from striking a blow for any hapless villagers who might be threatened with disaster at the hands of a savage enemy.
Turning over these things in his mind, and envying John, whose loud breathing proclaimed that no anxieties disturbed his repose, he lay wakeful for several hours, until he, too, fell asleep. He slept very heavily, as might have been expected of a man tired out by exhausting marches under a hot sun. The night was cool, the atmosphere was pure, and the young Englishman's rest was as peaceful as though there were no wild beast or savage man in the world.
When he awoke, the ghostly light of dawn was glimmering in the open doorway of the room. Like his countrymen everywhere, he turned over on his back, stretched himself, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. Where was John? The heap of grass in the opposite corner was vacant.
"He's gone to examine his snares, I suppose," he said to himself. "I wonder if there's a stream where I can take a dip."
He rose, stretched himself again, feeling a little stiff, walked through the doorway, and entered one of the passages that led to the outside. He was just turning a corner when, with a suddenness that took him all aback, he came face to face with a negro, a man of huge stature, topping him by several inches.
The white man and the black were equally surprised. Both came to a halt, and stood eyeing each other for a moment in silence.
The passage was open to the sky, but the light of morning was as yet so faint that neither could see very clearly.
All at once the negro, with a roar like that of a wild beast, whipped a curved sword out of a belt about his waist, and, springing forward, delivered a furious sweeping cut which, if it had taken effect, must have severed Royce's head from his shoulders.
Fortunately for him, however, he was quick of eye and wit, and nimble in his movements. At school he had had no match in boxing and fencing. Being absolutely unarmed, he had no means of parrying the stroke; but he dropped on one knee, and the scimitar whistled within an inch of his crown, striking with a crashing stroke the wall on his right hand.
While the negro was still bent forward with the force of his blow, Royce sprang low at his knees, and, tugging them towards him, brought the man with a thud to the floor. The sword fell from his hand and clashed on the stone flags, and Royce reached down to get hold of it. But the negro sprang to his feet with agility amazing in so huge a man, and hurled himself upon the Englishman.
Royce had just time to straighten himself and prevent himself from being thrown down; the next moment the negro's arms were about him; he felt hot breath upon his face, and saw the gleaming teeth and infuriated eyes of a man from whom he knew he could expect no mercy.
He was well acquainted with the styles of wrestling in vogue in England—the Cumberland, the Devon, the Lancashire; but he was instantly aware that the negro's method was none of these. It was, in fact, a form of wrestling like that which had been practised ages ago in the Olympic games, and had no doubt been introduced into Northern Africa by the Romans in the days of Cæsar and Pompey. It resembled the catch-as-catch-can style of Lancashire more nearly than the lighter styles with which Royce was familiar.
The negro's aim seemed to be to throttle his opponent, or to squeeze the breath out of his body; and Royce, struggle as he might, felt the thick, muscular arms gripping him more and more closely. Slighter in build, he had no chance of employing the feints and tricks which might have compensated for a less powerful physique in dealing with an Englishman. In that straining grasp, there was no hope for the lesser man; in a few seconds the struggle must end.
AT GRIPS WITH THE NEGRO
The encounter, the coming to grips, had happened so swiftly that Royce had had no time to think that there was help at hand in the shape of John. But now, at this critical moment, when he felt that the very life was being crushed out of him, he remembered the staunch companion of his journey, who could not be far away.
Making a desperate effort to fill his lungs, he uttered a shout, or rather a choking gurgle, which no one would have recognised as the voice of an Englishman. The negro laughed, anticipating the moment when the white man would lie limp and lifeless at his feet. Bub John, climbing the hill with a rabbit dangling in his hand, heard the two sounds—the gasping cry, the loud, mocking laugh. Hastening forward at a run, he shouted aloud, giving a long, penetrating note like the yodel of the Swiss mountain shepherd. The sound, growing louder moment by moment, came to the ears of the negro. He realised instantly that, unless he could dispose of the Englishman at once, he would soon have two men to deal with.
The encouraging sound gave Royce new strength. He put forth his last energies to resist the strangling grip.
"Yoi-aloo! Yoi-aloo!"
The newcomer was close at hand. The panting negro lowered his arms, caught Royce about the hips, and tried to lift him, intending to dash him upon the floor. Royce flung his legs about the giant's thighs, stiffened his muscles, and dragged with all his force upon the negro's shoulders.
"Yoi-aloo! Yoi-aloo!"
The game was up! The negro dared not wait longer. Loosening his grip, he wrenched himself out of Royce's entwining arms, thrust him away, and, turning about, rushed through the passage into the open. There he saw John hurrying up within twenty paces of him, and swerving to the left, in five seconds had disappeared among the bushes.
CHAPTER III
THE STORY OF GORUBA
Royce, when the negro left him, was breathless from the struggle. But he had the presence of mind to run back to the room where he had passed the night, pick up his rifle and revolver from the floor, and hurry to the entrance. There John met him. The anxious alarm on the Hausa's face gave way to a broad smile when he saw that his master was safe.
"Where is that ruffian?" asked Royce, looking round for his assailant.
"Him run away quick," replied John, pointing to the bushes. "Berry much 'fraid of me."
"You were just in time, John. He was crushing me to a jelly. It's a lesson to me not to part with my revolver for an instant. You saw no other black men about?"
"No, sah. Him berry big chap, sure 'nuff."
"A giant! I am bruised all over. I met him as I was coming out for a bathe, and he sprang at me at once. Why should he do that?"
"Bad fella, sah."
"I daresay; but it was something more than original sin. He went for me with as much ferocity as an eagle whose nest I disturbed once. Does this place belong to him, I wonder?"
John could only repeat that the man was a "bad fella." But Royce felt a good deal puzzled. The negro's savage onslaught might be explained by his regarding the white man as a robber, but there appeared to be nothing in the place worth stealing. It was strange that he should have so fiercely resented what was, after all, an innocent intrusion.
"We'll have another look round before we start," said Royce. "Or, rather, I will. You keep guard at the doorway, John, and call me if you see anyone moving about outside."
Royce searched the building thoroughly. The result confirmed his overnight impression, that it was in a fair state of preservation. But there was nothing in any of the rooms to indicate present or even remote occupation. Except for fragments of stone and rubble, they were bare. There was nothing to tempt a robber. Royce could only conclude that the man had attacked him from an instinct of self-preservation. What had led him to enter the building was a mystery.
Royce returned to John, who during his absence had kindled a fire, skinned the rabbit, and set it to roast. They made a good breakfast, then started in the direction of the village where Royce hoped to purchase food for his men.
"We must keep a good look-out," he said, "in case that fellow should be one of a band prowling about here. He won't be difficult to recognise. There can't be many men of his height and size. And if there were, I should know him again by some strange marks on his face. Why do these black men gash themselves, John?"
"To make him look pretty, sah."
"Um! They've a queer notion of beauty, then."
Anxious to accomplish his errand and return to Challis, Royce pushed on as rapidly as possible. The country was pathless, for the most part flat, with undulations here and there, covered with thick bush varied by an occasional gum-tree. Drysdale's rough sketch-map gave him little more than a bare direction, and he had to trust a good deal to luck. After three hours' steady marching, which ought to have brought them to the village, if the estimate of its distance were correct, they were still in the same wild, barren country, without a sign of mankind. It seemed probable that they had overshot the mark, so, after taking a short rest, they altered their direction in the hope of discovering a path.
It was late in the afternoon, and they were very tired, when at last they struck into a narrow, beaten track, far to the left of their original course.
"This looks promising," said Royce. "We'll make a spurt, John."
Another half-hour brought them to cultivated fields. Crossing these, they found themselves faced by a mud wall, fourteen or fifteen feet high, pierced by a single gate. This was closed.
"It's a town, after all," said Royce; "not a village. So much the better, if the people are friendly. Give them a call, John."
JOHN ADDRESSES THE SENTRY
The Hausa let out his long yodelling cry. A head was seen peering over the top of the wall. John lifted both hands, and spread them, palms open, as a sign of friendliness; then began an address in the native tongue, somewhat as follows:
"Ho, you admirable watchman of a noble chief! Tell your kind and worthy lord that a stranger from the lands of the Great White King seeks to look upon his face, and have a friendly talk with him. My lord and master is a very great man, with horses and cattle in number as the grains in a cornfield, and it is a great honour that he does to your chief. Open, then, your gate, and let this great lord enter; and, as he passes, let your people fall to the ground, and throw earth upon their bodies, as befits folk who are but as worms in his sight."
Unconscious of the extravagant claims made on his behalf, Royce leant on his rifle, waiting. The head disappeared. Some minutes elapsed; then the watchman came back to his perch, and a long conversation ensued between him and the Hausa, who grew more and more excited, and raised his voice until it became almost a yell.
"What is it all about?" asked Royce, beginning to suspect that his man was growing impolite.
"Son of a dog, dat fella!" replied John indignantly. "He want to know too much. Talk 'bout sah's father and mother, how many wives, what he come for, too much!"
"Did you tell him I want to buy food?"
"No, sah; I tell him——"
"Then do so at once," Royce interrupted sternly.
In a more subdued tone of voice, John gave his message. The man again withdrew.
After another interval, the gate was thrown open, and Royce, entering, found himself among a band of stalwart natives, carrying long, broad-bladed spears, and marked on each cheek, near the ear, with five or six narrow cuts, the badge of their tribe. Escorted by them, and watched by a curious crowd of townsfolk, Royce proceeded to the chief's large mud house in the centre of the town.
On entering he was greeted with the words: "Sanu, bature!" (Hail, white man!) from a stout, pleasant-faced, bearded black man, somewhat past middle age, who motioned to him to be seated, and ordered one of his slaves to bring forward a present of a roasted fowl.
The customary salutations passed between host and visitor. Royce had already learnt to endure this lengthy ceremony with patience. It was something like this:
John: "Hail, chief! Is it well with you?"
Chief: "It is well."
John: "Allah be praised! Is it well with your wives?"
Chief: "It is well."
John: "Allah be praised! Is it well with your children?"
Chief: "It is well."
John: "Allah be praised! And your horses?"
Chief: "It is well."
John: "Allah be praised! And your cattle?"
Chief: "They are well."
John: "Allah be praised! Your house and all that is yours?"
Chief: "All is well."
John: "Allah be praised!"
And then they got to business. The chief apologised for the delay in opening the gate. His watchmen had to be careful, because it was reported that Tubus were in the neighbourhood. A few days before a fugitive had come in from the westward, and told how his village had been raided and destroyed. From the chief's description, Royce gathered that this was the village which he had himself seen, and near which Challis was encamped.
Royce then explained the object of his visit, instructing John to translate exactly what he said, without adding or subtracting anything. The chief at once agreed to sell a quantity of millet and manioc for the men, and to present Royce with a few dozen eggs—an offer which Royce gracefully accepted, though he knew that most of the eggs would turn out to be bad. The African native can never understand the white man's squeamishness in the matter of addled eggs.
The next question was about the transportation of the food to the camp, nearly twenty miles distant. At first the chief, for fear of the Tubus, was reluctant to supply carriers. But when Royce explained that there had been no sign of Tubus on the way, and that the area of their depredations appeared to be considerably to the west, he yielded, and gave orders for the food to be loaded into calabashes, and for a dozen slaves to be ready to start with them in the morning.
It was clearly too late for a start to be made that evening, though Royce was very anxious to get back to his friend. He accepted the chief's hospitality for the night, and, though very tired, kept up a tedious conversation with him through John. In the course of this he related the incident of the early morning.
The chief seemed amused at the thought of a wrestling match between an Englishman and a negro, and laughed heartily at the negro running away on hearing John's cry, "Yoi-aloo!" which he made the Hausa repeat again and again. But his amusement soon gave place to alarm, his smiles to a look of thoughtfulness. He had asked Royce to describe the negro. He seemed little impressed by details of the man's height and size, but when Royce mentioned that he had noticed two straight cuts down the middle of each cheek he uttered a sudden, sharp exclamation.
"Goruba!"
"What does he mean by Goruba?" asked Royce of John, after a brief silence.
The chief seemed to deliberate whether he should speak or not. At last he said:
"I will tell the white man—my friend. Years ago I was chief of only a small village, and lord of little wealth. And I sought to increase my wealth by prudent trading, to which end I hunted the elephant, and sold his tusks to merchants from the East. And one time, having got together some few tusks in readiness for the barter, I was beset in my village by a horde of strange warriors, armed with guns, a terror to all my people. And these evil-doers came to me and made me captive, and demanded that I should deliver up to them those few tusks which were the spoil of my hunting. And, when I refused, they treated me shamefully and cruelly, so that I bear the marks on my body to this day. And there was no help for me, no hope of deliverance; and then, for the safety of my life, I was fain to yield, and saw myself robbed of the treasure that had fallen to my spear.
"And the captain of those wretches, he that put me to the torture, was a man of vast stature and the strength of a giant, Goruba by name. He was from the east country, the slave of Rabeh, King of Dar Runga, who laid waste all the lands on this side of the great lake, and whose warriors were as locusts on the face of the earth.
"It was a good day for all this country when Rabeh was slain, and his men were scattered to the winds. I knew not what had become of Goruba, one of his chiefest captains; but in very truth it was he that laid hands on you, for his stature and those marks upon his cheeks betray him. And this news that you give me is heavy upon my heart, for without doubt Goruba is again prowling like a lion about these lands, and many a village will fall a prey to him."
Royce did his best to reassure the chief, pointing out that Goruba had been alone, and there was no evidence that he was the leader of any considerable body of men. This somewhat heartened the old man, who declared, however, that he would henceforth be doubly watchful, and advised the white man to leave the country as soon as possible.
"I shall go at my own time," said Royce quietly. "I thank you for your warning, and will do what I can to repay your kindness."
Next morning he left the village with John and a dozen carriers, well loaded with food-stuffs, and hastened at his best pace to rejoin his friend.
CHAPTER IV
RUSHED BY TUBUS
Challis, after Royce had left him, felt somewhat uneasy. Royce had spoken hopefully of getting back on the following day, but Challis, remembering the difficulties of finding the way in a strange country, was pretty sure that Royce had overestimated his powers, and was prepared to be left in sole charge for at least two days, and perhaps three. It was not a pleasant prospect, for the raiders could not be very far away, and the possibility of being attacked was disturbing. He kept a smiling face, however, and said nothing about his anxieties to the boys.
The first thing to do was to form as secure a camp as possible. The camping arrangements had been interrupted by the discussion leading to Royce's departure. As soon as Royce was gone, Challis took the matter in hand.
The spot which Royce had suggested as suitable for the camp was a knoll, on which a few palm-trees grew, at one end of the village, and Challis was rather surprised to find that, during his conversation with Royce, the Hausas had not made a start. Wearing woe-begone expressions on their faces, they were squatting beside their packages.
"Now, Kulana," said Challis to the second in command, "what are you all idling for? Carry the stuff to those palm-trees yonder."
The men got up obediently, but they appeared to have a strange hesitation in lifting their loads.
"Come, come!" said Challis. "I know that you are done up, but you are not so bad as all that. Besides, it's only a few yards away, and the sooner we form camp the sooner you'll get to sleep."
There was a murmuring among them. Still they did not offer to lift the bundles.
Challis curbed his rising anger. The men were usually so willing that he wished not to be hard on them. And both Royce and he had already taken much interest in studying the queer moods and ideas of these Africans.
"What is troubling them, Kulana?" he asked quietly.
The Hausa looked him full in the face, and, seeing no anger there, replied:
"No want camp dar, sah—berry bad place."
"Oh! Why is that?"
And then the man began to pour out an explanation of which at first Challis could make nothing. Kulana's English was not adequate to express his thoughts. He talked of "debbils" and "bad medicine," and went through a pantomime of gestures expressing fear and fright, the other men listening intently, and murmuring approval now and then.
After a time, however, Challis had a glimmering of light.
"You think the spirits of the dead men haunt the village—is that it? And you are afraid they will come and bother you during the night?"
"Sah savvy all 'bout it," said the man, delighted that his meaning was understood.
The others clapped their hands, and looked much more cheerful.
"Well, I don't want you to see black ghosts, I'm sure," Challis went on. "I don't know that I'd like to see them myself. We'll find another place."
The men shouted, and springing to their feet, hoisted their loads with alacrity. Challis reflected that the work of constructing a camp more in the open would be good for them, preventing them from brooding over their troubles, real and imaginary.
After a rapid glance around, he led them to an open spot at some little distance from the village, and ordered them to make a small zariba with branches from the bushes around. It was an excellent situation for a camp. Its openness rendered it possible to detect the approach of an enemy, and a small stream running close by furnished an ample supply of water.
As he had expected, the work of cutting the bushes took the men's minds from their misfortunes. They soon began to chatter with their usual cheerfulness. By nightfall they had constructed a thick fence six feet high and several yards square. The tent was erected in the middle of the enclosure, the baggage was placed against one of the walls, and the men, tired out, but no longer despondent, were ready for their supper.
Challis dealt out pills to the ailing ones, promised them all a long rest on the following day, and spoke confidently of the speedy return of his companion with ample supplies. He arranged for the watching of the camp during the night, and, as an extra precaution, set his alarm clock, when he himself turned in, so that it wakened him in an hour. Then he took a look round, set the clock again for an hour ahead, and so on, through the night. He enjoyed the inestimable power of sleeping at any minute.
The night passed quietly. In the morning, Challis sent two of the men outside the zariba to fetch water and to take a look round.
When they returned they were rather excited. They explained that they had made two discoveries. One was that across the stream lay an extensive swamp, upon which they had seen a large flock of birds pecking for worms. The other was that a little farther off was a banana plantation, which had escaped the ravages of the raiders.
"Good boys!" said Challis. "We will make some use of your news by and by."
The presence of the birds and the bananas afforded a welcome opportunity of replenishing their scanty larder. Challis decided to go out and try his skill as a sportsman. There would be some risk, of course, that the noise of his gun might attract the notice of undesirable visitors; but there was very little food of any kind left, and poultry would be a treat to the men. In view of the possibility of Royce's return being delayed, it seemed too good a chance to be neglected. Besides, he reflected, there was no other village in the neighbourhood, and the raiders, having accomplished their destructive work only too completely, were probably by this time far away. After he had made a bag of birds, he would send out some men to gather bananas, and the party would revel in a regular banquet.
Accordingly, he ordered Kulana to keep a careful watch, and on no account to allow the men to move outside the zariba; then, taking his shot-gun, he set out for the swamp, with the two who had brought the information, to retrieve the game.
The swamp was half-a-mile away, and Challis found it necessary to walk round it for some distance before he could get a fair shot at the birds, which had settled down in a bed of rushes. They appeared to be a variety of pigeon, a delicacy which the men would appreciate after living almost wholly on meal.
When he had located the game, he sent his men forward to start them. The instant they rose in the air he let fly with both barrels in rapid succession, and brought down a bird with each shot. Following up the rest of the covey until they settled again, he killed another brace, and so went on for nearly an hour, until there were as many birds as the men could carry.
His success had quite banished the misgivings with which he had started. Picturing the delight of his boys at getting a whole day's good eating, he had given the order to return, and was half-way back to camp, when he was startled by a great shouting and commotion from its direction.
Sprinting on at full speed, he was just in time to see a number of his boys running across the open space in front of the zariba, closely pursued by a dozen horsemen. The runners, who appeared to be laden with bananas, darted into the enclosure through the gap they had left in the fence; but before they could draw the rough gate across it, the foremost horsemen galloped through at their heels.
Challis guessed in a moment what had happened. The men's appetite had been whetted by the report of the nearness of a banana plantation. They had been too childishly impatient to await his return, and, either with Kulana's consent or in defiance of him, they had gone out to gather the fruit, only to be surprised by some wandering tribe.
He rushed impetuously across the open space to the support of his men, not staying to reflect that he could do nothing really effective. Besides his shot-gun, he carried a revolver. The horsemen had fire-arms, which they had not used as yet, feeling no doubt that their swords were sufficient for the work in hand. Some of the Hausas had rifles, but it was clear that they were too much paralysed by the appearance of a mounted enemy to make use of them. They were yelling with fright.
Before Challis was half-way to the zariba, a second party of horsemen broke from cover in the direction of the village, and rode straight at him. Flinging up his shot-gun, he emptied the barrels almost at random; then drew his revolver. But at that moment a shot from the pistol of one of the galloping horsemen struck him above the wrist, and the revolver fell to the ground. In another second he was spun round by the impact of a horse's shoulder, reeled, and fell. The horsemen galloped over him on their way to the zariba, and before he lost consciousness it seemed to him that he had been kicked and trampled by a hundred hoofs.
CHAPTER V
UNDER THE LASH
Challis opened dazed eyes upon a scene that bewildered him, and for a few moments he could not account for the pains that gripped all his limbs. Remembrance stole back into his reviving consciousness, and gradually he became aware of the meaning of what he saw.
The zariba had been demolished. At one side of what had been his camp a number of horses were tethered. In the centre his Hausa boys were busily packing the baggage, much more rapidly than Challis had ever seen them doing it before. The reason of their haste was easily discovered. Over them stood a circle of negroes, who urged them with fierce cries and drawn swords. The camp had fallen into the hands of an enemy.
And it was not long before Challis guessed who this enemy was. Only one tribe in this part of Africa, so far as he knew, rode horses. These men must be Tubus from across the Yo—the ruthless brigands who were the terror of the country. It could hardly be doubted that these were the men who had raided the village, and left only too clear proofs of their merciless ferocity.
Apparently there had been no fight at the zariba. The Hausas, armed though they were, had succumbed without a struggle. The truth was that, in disobedience to Challis's order, some of the men had left the camp, and been pounced on suddenly by the enemy. As they fled back to the zariba, their comrades dared not fire for fear of hitting them, and the swift onset of the horsemen had made resistance hopeless.
Aching all over, Challis struggled to his feet. Immediately a hand was laid upon him from behind. He noticed that his wrist was bleeding, and taking out his handkerchief, he began to wind it round the wound as his captor pushed him towards the centre of the camp. And then from behind the horses there came forth a huge negro, taller than he by six or seven inches, with massive shoulders and muscular arms.
The giant's face broke into a grin as he approached the Englishman. He uttered some words which Challis did not understand, but which seemed to have in them the ring of triumph.
"I have caught you, white face!" was what he said.
As to the white man all negroes seem at first alike, so to Goruba Challis at this moment appeared to be the man with whom he had wrestled at dawn of day.
He spoke again, addressing Challis; then, recognising that he was not understood, he called for one of the Hausas to come and interpret. Kulana came up, and keeping his eyes averted from Challis, he translated what the big man said.
"What are you doing in this country?"
Challis quickly made up his mind to give no information, trusting that he might at least save Royce from his own fate. He refused to speak. The next question puzzled him, but confirmed him in his resolution.
"What were you doing in my fort?"
Though he made no reply, it was plain that he showed his surprise in the expression of his face, for Goruba looked hard at him, and seemed to be in some puzzlement himself. Then the negro's harsh features darkened with anger. He flourished his sword.
"Dog! This will make you speak!" he shouted.
Challis looked at him, without quailing, and did not flinch when the sword was flashed across his eyes. His courage seemed to impress Goruba, who laughed, spat on the ground, and giving an order to his men to keep guard over the prisoner, walked away with Kulana into the midst of the sweating Hausas.
What he had failed to elicit from the Englishman his threats soon extracted from the carriers. He learnt that there was another white man, who had set out on the previous afternoon for a village to the north, to buy provisions. He chuckled on receiving this information. There was little doubt what village the white man he had met in the fort was bound for. He chuckled again. The white man was no doubt on his way back to the camp. It would not be difficult to waylay him.
The work of packing was completed. Goruba ordered the Hausas to mount their loads. Their rifles, with Challis's, were in the possession of his men. When all was ready, the Tubus leapt to their saddles, and the whole party set off northwards, Challis being tied to the saddle of one of the horses.
Often on that march Challis's blood boiled as he saw how his men were treated, and knew his helplessness to defend them. The Tubus urged them with whips, sometimes with the points of their swords. The wretched Hausas, some of whom were weak with sickness, panted along under their loads, striving to keep pace with the impatient horsemen. They dared not even groan, for a murmur brought the lash on their shoulders. When Challis protested through Kulana, explaining that the men were ill, Goruba only grinned and mocked him.
By-and-by, however, it became apparent to Goruba that the men were incapable of further marching. The slave-driver is usually callous enough as to the fate of his victims; he will watch them with unconcern growing weaker and weaker, see them drop in their tracks, sometimes kill them in sheer rage at their inability to keep up. But Goruba did not wish to lose these men. They were themselves valuable. They bore valuable loads. It would be a mistake to over-drive them. In the afternoon, therefore, some hours earlier than a march is usually ended, he gave the order to halt. The Hausas laid down their burdens, and threw themselves on the ground in utter exhaustion.
THE PRISONER
Challis himself was in little better case. He had not been given a load to carry, but he had felt himself growing weaker and weaker as the day wore on. Though his wound was not serious, he had lost some blood, and was enfeebled by the shock and the bruises he had suffered in the trampling. When he lagged on the march, the man to whose saddle he was fastened prodded him in the back with the point of his spear. His own sufferings, and the sufferings of his men, made him realise with new force the horrors of slave-driving, which, in spite of all efforts to crush it, still exists in parts of the dark continent.
It was therefore with inexpressible relief that he welcomed the order to halt. The place chosen for camp was the crest of a slight undulation. The soil was sandy, and hot from the beating of the sun upon it all day. There were a few scrubby bushes dotted around, but no grass. Nor was there a stream in which the marchers could bathe their burning feet.
The Tubus fetched water from a small water-hole near by. They made a meal of the provisions carried in their wallets. The Hausas consumed the last of their food.
Challis was forced to ask permission to open one of the tins of preserved meat which formed part of the men's loads. The Tubus gathered round him, and watched with childish curiosity as he cut the tin open. They were mute with astonishment when they saw what it contained. They hardly allowed Challis time to take from it sufficient for his supper, before they began to quarrel about the ownership of the tin.
Goruba, hearing the noise, came and settled the matter by swallowing the rest of the meat in two or three great gulps, and taking the tin as a present for one of his wives.
Challis was too tired and weak to care what was done. There was no bed but the hot dry sand; but after eating a little he stretched himself on the spot assigned to him in the centre of the encampment, and forgot his sufferings for a time in a troubled sleep.
CHAPTER VI
THE NORTHWARD TRAIL
The information which the old chief had given Royce influenced his choice of route when he started on his return journey.
"You see, John," he said to the headman, "we don't want to meet this Goruba again. No doubt he stumbled on us by accident, and we have no reason to suppose that he has any particular spite against white men; certainly I had done nothing to upset him. But as he appears to be a dangerous character, we had better keep out of his way. Don't you think so?"
"Dat all same berry good, sah," said John.
"Then we won't go back by way of the fort," Royce pursued. "I dare say, indeed, these men know a nearer way to the village. Ask them."
The carriers assured John, when he questioned them, that they knew a much nearer way, by which they would leave the fort a long distance on their right. Royce therefore left the leadership to their headman, who carried no load, and went on with him, slightly ahead of the rest, to keep a good look-out in case of possible danger.
It was not until they had been marching for an hour or more that the suspicion flashed upon him that Goruba might have been concerned in the raid on the ruined village. True, John had said that the raiders were Tubus, and Goruba was not a Tubu, but probably, from his appearance, and from what the chief had said, a Nubian. But, remembering that Rabeh, Goruba's former master, had himself been a slave, who had gradually worked his way up to the lordship of a considerable empire, Royce wondered whether Goruba had raised himself to a similar position among the Tubus.
A puzzling fact was that he had appeared at the fort alone. As Rabeh's lieutenant he no doubt had made himself so much hated in this part of the country that he could expect no mercy if he fell into the hands of any of his former victims. It seemed therefore unlikely that he was really quite alone. He must belong to a party, and what could be more probable than that he was a member, if not the leader, of the party who had burnt the village?
The more he thought about it, the more troubled Royce became. If the raiders had not returned to their own country across the Yo, it was at least possible that they might discover Challis's camp. He was uneasy at the idea of Challis, with his few men, of whom half were sick, having to sustain an attack by a large body of the most ferocious warriors known in that part of Africa. Anxious to rejoin his friend, Royce grew impatient at the slow pace at which the carriers walked, heavily burdened as they were, and would have gone on far ahead but that he felt himself responsible to the chief for their safety.
It was fortunate that he had decided to avoid the fort on his return journey. Goruba had dispatched a small band of his best men to lie in wait there, and ambush the white man and his follower. They were lurking in the precincts of the fort at the very moment when Royce and his party were making a bend to the south about a mile distant.
The route followed by the headman of the carriers led through a considerable stretch of wooded country. The headman told John that he would not have chosen that way but for his master's desire to avoid the fort, although it was shorter. When John asked him why, he explained that the woodland was the resort of large herds of elephants, of which the carriers were somewhat afraid. It would have been different had they not been carrying loads. They were bold enough when they accompanied the chief on hunting expeditions, and had spears in their hands. But with heavy loads on their heads they felt helpless if the great beasts should chance to cross their path.
Once or twice, as they pressed on at their best pace, they heard a great crashing among the trees. Their scent, carried on the breeze, had disturbed the elephants browsing in the thickets. The sound alarmed the men, but Royce, when John told him what caused it, explained that the elephants were just as anxious to avoid them as they were to avoid the elephants.
"What the white man says may be true," said the headman. "But sometimes the scent of men makes the elephants angry, and then they seek the men, and do not run away."
They passed through the woodland without encountering elephants, and found themselves on the low shore of an extensive lake, the remoter border of which was overhung by low cliffs. The negroes were careful to keep at a good distance from the brink of the water. Alligators might often be met with on the mud flats, lying so still, and being so much the colour of the ground, that their presence was sometimes only known by the shrieks of some hapless victim whom one had seized.
As they were skirting the lake, John suddenly gave a shout, and pointed to what appeared to be a greyish-black ridge just projecting above the surface of the water. This object seemed to swell, the water was disturbed, and at one end of the ridge emerged the ugly head of a hippopotamus.
"Hippo meat berry fine, sah!" said John longingly.
"I daresay, but I am not going to shoot when I don't know who may be about," Royce returned. "And don't shout again, John, whatever you may see. I am not anxious to meet that giant Goruba again."
They left the lake behind, and by dint of hard marching through rough and scrubby country reached the neighbourhood of the ruined village a little before nightfall. Approaching it on a different side from that by which he had left it, Royce would not have recognised it but for the assurance of his guides.
He hurried along with John at the head of the party through the desolate blackened street until he reached the palm-trees, where he expected to find the camp. To his surprise there was no sign of an encampment having been there, nor, looking round, could he discover Challis or any of the boys.
"What does this mean, John?" he asked, feeling very uneasy.
John looked puzzled for a moment or two; then his face lightened as the explanation struck him.
"Boys 'fraid of debbils, sah," he said. "Massa Chally find 'nother place."
Somewhat relieved, Royce hastened on with the man, hoping to see his friend at no great distance. In a few minutes they caught sight of the scattered material of the zariba. In the enclosure was a round mark upon the ground, indicating where the tent had stood, and blackened spots where the men had kindled their fires. But all the baggage was gone, except one tent-peg. There was nothing else save a number of empty banana skins.
Royce paused in dismay. John looked about with the air of a man in fear. And then there was a sudden cry from one of the carriers, as they came up toiling under their loads. They halted, dropped their burdens, and, collecting in a group, stood staring at the ground.
Royce and John hurried to them, wondering what had attracted their attention. They were looking with terror at some dull reddish splashes on the soil.
Royce's heart sank. It was inconceivable that Challis had moved camp of his own accord. He must have been attacked. The bloodstains seemed to indicate that there had been a fight; yet they were very few, and all at one spot. He looked about, dreading to see dead bodies in the neighbourhood of the enclosure. The relief he felt at finding none was smothered by a great anxiety. It seemed only too certain that, fight or no fight, the camp had been captured, and all within it carried away.
For some little time they all stood silent. Then the headman suddenly started, threw up his arms, and with a howl of fright took to his heels, and ran fleetly back along the way he had come. Instantly his companions followed him; in a few seconds they had disappeared. Royce was left alone with John.
The Hausa had already discovered the cause of their sudden stampede. He had caught sight of a black form skulking among some thin bush at no great distance from the camp.
Just as he pointed him out to his master, looking much inclined to bolt after the carriers, the figure moved towards them, hastening its steps, and revealing itself to be that of one of their own men. The carriers, no doubt, had supposed him to be one of the party who had rushed the camp, and feared that the rest were somewhere near.
John ran to him, asking eagerly what had become of Massa Chally. The man explained that he and another had accompanied Massa Chally when he went shooting birds, and on their return had seen thousands of Tubus swoop down on the camp. Being himself somewhat in the rear of the other two, he had concealed himself, and the birds he carried, in the bush, and remained there until the prisoners had been taken away. So far as he knew, he was the only one who had escaped. Fearing to leave the spot, he had waited there, knowing that Massa Royce would return by-and-by.
"Was there a fight?" asked Royce.
The man replied that Massa Chally had fired his gun, but was himself wounded and ridden down by the horsemen. No one else had fired. Most of the men were laden with bananas, and the horsemen had come upon them so suddenly that there was no time to do anything.
Bad as the news was, Royce recognised a reason for thankfulness in that Challis had not been killed. The carrier was firm on that point. He had seen the white man tied to a saddle, and taken away with the rest.
"Which way did they go?" Royce asked.
The man pointed towards the north.
Royce stood pondering. What was to be done? It was unthinkable that he should leave Challis and the faithful boys to their fate, even though by following them up he should share it. Challis might escape, in which case he would need help, and the nearer Royce was to him the better. But Challis was not the man to desert his negroes, and the chance that all would be able to escape together was slight.
The longer Royce thought over the problem, the less likely did it appear that he could do anything for his friend. Yet he must make an attempt. Were the positions reversed, he knew that Challis would try to do something for him.
"We must go after them, John," he said at last.