As the ship passed over the village and held on her way toward the place
of punishment, it became evident to the watchers on her deck that her
rapid approach was being viewed with great anxiety and perturbation by
the guards who had been ordered by M'Bongwele to surround the prisoner
and see that none of his friends interfered to shorten the period of his
sufferings with a kindly spear-stroke. They could be seen pointing at
the ship, and excitedly conferring together; and when at length it
became quite clear that the _Flying Fish_ was making for the precise
earth upon which they stood, their superstitious fears so completely
overmastered every other feeling and consideration that, casting away
their weapons, they incontinently took to their heels and fled, howling
with terror. A moment later the _Flying Fish_ came gently to earth upon
the spot which they had just vacated.
As she did so, the professor, closely followed by Lobelalatutu, made a
dash for the gangway-ladder, down which they hastily descended, and,
dropping the rope ladder over the side, rapidly scrambled down to the
ground. A few yards away lay the object for which they were making, and
a dozen rapid strides took them to it. Prepared as von Schalckenberg
was for the sight that met his eyes, he yet sickened with a deadly
nausea as he gazed down upon the dreadful object that lay stretched out
at his feet. At the first glance an uninstructed observer would have
found it somewhat difficult to say precisely what it was that he was
looking upon; but the professor, compelling himself to look closely, saw
that it was the naked body of a tall and finely-built savage stretched
at full length upon the ground, the upstretched arms and outspread legs
being firmly secured by many turns of stout thongs to four long stakes
driven so deeply into the earth that by no possible exertion of strength
could the victim free himself. Merely to lie exposed in this fashion,
immovably fixed to the earth, until death from starvation and thirst
came to the relief of the sufferer would, one might suppose, be
considered a sufficiently severe punishment to satisfy every demand of
justice--to say nothing of the exactions of revenge; but such a death
was much too easy to be acceptable to a man whose lust of cruelty was so
insatiable as that of M'Bongwele. This monster's chief delight was to
gloat over the sufferings of others, and much of his time was very
agreeably passed in meditating upon and devising schemes of elaborate
cruelty for the punishment of those unhappy individuals who were so
unfortunate as to offend him, or incur the suspicion that they were his
enemies. Siswani, however, the present victim, was not undergoing any
experimental form of torture of M'Bongwele's own invention; he was
simply suffering a form of death that, from the protracted and
exquisitely excruciating character of its agonies, enjoys a very wide
popularity among African savages. It consists in the eyelids of the
victim being cut off, to expose the unprotected eyeballs to the fierce
glare of the sun--and, later, to other and even worse torments--after
which he is led out to some selected spot where an ants' nest of
suitable size is known to exist. Arrived there, four stout stakes are
driven deeply into the ground at a proper distance apart round the nest,
stout raw-hide thongs are attached to the victim's wrists and ankles,
and the whole of his naked body is then carefully anointed with honey,
after which he is thrown to the ground and stretched out on his back on
the top of the ants' nest, and there immovably bound to the four stakes.
Then the nest is broken under him and the fiercely exasperated little
insects are left to work their savage will upon his unprotected body, to
which they are strongly attracted by the odour of the honey.
The unhappy Siswani had thus been exposed for fully five hours, when von
Schalckenberg at length stood beside him, and his body was completely
hidden beneath a swarming mass of ants, the collective movements of
which suggested a horrible wave-like creeping movement to the surface of
the body. Apart from this, however, an occasional writhing of the
frightfully swollen form and limbs showed that life and feeling still
remained. But it was, perhaps, the mouth of the sufferer that bore most
eloquent testimony to the extremity of the tortured body's anguish: it
had been forced wide open by the introduction of a thick gag of hard
wood, and into this the strong teeth had bitten until they were ground
to fragments, while the lips were drawn back in a fearful grin.
Upon this awful object Lobelalatutu cast a single glance, and then made
a dart at the nearest of the spears that had been flung away by the
flying guard, with which he quickly cut the thongs that bound the
victim, and those that secured the gag, removing the latter from the
sufferer's mouth. Then, raising the quivering body in his arms, he bent
down and murmured a few words in his friend's ear. There was no reply;
and, looking closer, the chief saw enough to convince him that the
unhappy Siswani's hearing was already completely destroyed.
Lobelalatutu had been reared in a school in which stoical indifference
to suffering, whether personal or in another, is esteemed a cardinal
virtue; yet even he could not wholly conceal the emotion which possessed
him as he turned to von Schalckenberg and drew the attention of the
professor to the ghastly injuries already inflicted by the terrible
ants.
"Great Spirit," said he, "you are very powerful, I know, for I have seen
you do many wonderful things. Can you give Siswani new eyes and ears,
new flesh in place of that which has disappeared? Can you extract the
poison from his body, and make him whole again, even as he was when the
dawn came into this morning's sky?"
"No," answered the professor, sorrowfully. "We can do many wonderful
things, as you say, Lobelalatutu, but we cannot create a man anew. We
can cure many diseases; we can heal many kinds of wounds; but our power
as yet stops short of repairing such frightful injuries as those. The
utmost that we can do is to ease Siswani of his pain so that he may die
in peace."
"You cannot save his life?" demanded the chief; and there was a note of
keen anguish and fierce sorrow in his accents as he asked the question.
"I do not say that," answered von Schalckenberg. "It may be possible.
But blind, deaf, dumb, as he is, what will life be worth to him, even if
I can preserve it?"
"True, O Spirit," answered Lobelalatutu. "It would be worthless to him,
nay, worse, it would be a torment to him; for memory would remain to him
to remind him constantly of what he was, as compared with what he now
is. And he could do nothing for himself; he would be dependent upon
others for every morsel of food, every drop of water that went to
sustain a worthless and miserable life. There is but one act of
kindness that can now avail him, and I, Lobelalatutu, will do it for
him, even as I would pray him to do the like for me, were I as he is!"
And ere von Schalckenberg could intervene, the savage, with a quick
movement, raised the spear he held in his hand and, with unerring aim,
drove it deep through the heart of his friend! Siswani's disfigured
body responded to the stroke with a scarcely perceptible shudder; a
faint sigh escaped the distorted lips; and the victim's sufferings were
at an end.
"The _coup-de-grace_! the stroke of mercy; the act of a friend indeed,"
remarked von Schalckenberg, as he rose to his feet and turned to meet
Sir Reginald, whose exclamation of horror was the first intimation of
his contiguity to the other two. "Look at that poor mutilated and
disfigured remnant of what, a few hours ago, was a man, in the prime of
life, and in the full enjoyment of perfect health and strength; consider
what the future must have been to such a man, so mutilated--even had it
been possible to retain the life in him, which I gravely doubt--and then
say whether this man, his friend, has not done the best that it was
possible to do. Yet, would you, my friend, hampered with the
sentimentality of your civilisation, have had the moral courage to do
the like?"
"How long do you think he would have lived, but for that stroke of the
spear?" asked Sir Reginald.
Von Schalckenberg shrugged his shoulders.
"Who can say?" he retorted. "Had he been left alone, he would perhaps
have lingered in indescribable agony until sunset, when the poison in
his system would have done its work, and he would have died. On the
other hand, had I employed my utmost skill, and been free to give my
undivided attention to him for, say, a month, I might, perhaps, have
been so far successful as to have prolonged his life to the extent of
two or three years; during which--deaf, dumb, blind, utterly helpless,
and every movement a torture to him--he would have been dependent upon
others for the necessities of life."
"Then," said Sir Reginald, "if I could know that the condition which you
have described was the best that the future held in store for him, I
would have put my sentimentality in my pocket and--"
"Quite so," assented the professor, with a nod; "and, in my opinion,
your act would have been a meritorious one. Well, we were hours too
late to be of any use to the poor fellow; but it may be that we shall
still be in time to punish his murderer and the murderer of those
fourteen unhappy white people who died to gratify the ferocious
instincts of a savage despot. Let us be going. Come," he added, laying
his hand upon Lobelalatutu's naked shoulder, "we shall need you while
doing the work that lies before us. After we have finished you can send
out men to do what is necessary here."
And, with a very grim expression of face, he turned and led the way to
the _Flying Fish_.
Ten minutes later the ship came gently to earth in the Great Place
before M'Bongwele's palace. The village appeared at first sight to be
deserted, for not a soul was to be seen in any direction; but the low
wail of an infant, suddenly breaking in upon the silence, and issuing
from one of the huts, betrayed the fact that at least one small atom of
humanity still lingered about the place; and where so small a baby was,
the mother would probably be not far off.
The five white men--each with his rifle in his hand, as a safeguard
against possible accident--stared about them in perplexity.
"What has happened, Lobelalatutu; what has become of your people?"
demanded the professor.
"They are hiding in their huts," answered the chief. "They remember
what happened when the Four Spirits last visited us, and they are
afraid!"
"So!" ejaculated the professor. "Well, call to them, Lobelalatutu, and
bid them come forth; we have somewhat to say to them."
The chief advanced to the gangway, where he could be clearly seen, and
in a loud voice called upon every man to come forth into the open to
listen to what the Four Spirits of the Winds had to say to them. And,
in reply, first one, then another came creeping reluctantly out of the
huts, until at length the Great Place was full of people, all standing
with their eyes fixed upon the figures of the four well-remembered
"spirits," and the fifth who now stood beside them. A low hum of
subdued conversation arose from the densely massed crowd, for a minute
or two, but it presently subsided; and all waited breathlessly for the
communication to which they had been summoned to listen.
Von Schalckenberg permitted the silence to last long enough to become
almost oppressive; then he advanced to the gangway and, waving his hand,
demanded--
"Children of the Makolo, how many of your number are absent?"
For a full minute dead silence followed upon this question; then a man,
whose dress and weapons proclaimed him a chief, strode forward and
replied--
"We are all present, O most potent Spirit, save fifty of the king's
guards, who went forth this morning to execute the king's sentence upon
Siswani."
"Say you so?" retorted the professor. "Where, then, is M'Bongwele? How
is it that I do not see him?"
"_Au_!" exclaimed the chief, "the king abides in his palace. He comes
not forth at the bidding of strangers."
"Does he not?" retorted von Schalckenberg. "Yet shall he come forth at
my bidding. Go, now, Lobelalatutu; descend the ladder to your people;
take as many men as may be needful, and bring forth M'Bongwele, that we,
the Four Spirits, may judge him, and punish him for his crimes. Go, and
fear not,"--for Lobelalatutu rather hung back, as though somewhat
uncertain in regard to the matter of his safety--"you are under our
protection; and the man who foolishly dares to raise hand against you
incurs our displeasure, and will instantly fall dead!"
Thus assured, Lobelalatutu hesitated no longer, but, calling to certain
friends of his to support him, boldly descended the ladder--which
Mildmay took the precaution to draw up instantly--and, accompanied by
some eight or ten other chiefs, proceeded to push his way through the
throng toward the king's palace, while a confused hum and murmur of
excited conversation arose from the crowd.
Suddenly, the chief who had replied to von Schalckenberg's questions,
sprang forward, and raising his right hand, with a sheaf of spears in
its grasp, above his head, shouted--
"Warriors of the Makolo, what is this? Why stand ye, silent, before
these strangers, as cattle stand before a hungry lion? Who are they,
that they dare come hither to dictate to us and our king? Once before
have they been here, and--"
As though unexpectedly pushed by some one behind, he suddenly fell
forward on his face, dead! while von Schalckenberg composedly lowered
his rifle from his shoulder.
"It had to be done," he explained to his companions, meanwhile keeping
his gaze steadily fixed upon the crowd of savages beneath him. "In
another second or two those fellows down there would have been divided
into two parties, and we should have had a pitched battle raging at our
feet, with a loss of hundreds of lives. Evidently, the fellow was one
of the king's friends, and can, therefore, very well be spared."
"Quite right, Professor," answered Lethbridge. "You forestalled me by a
second or two only. If you had not fired, I should have done so, for I
saw that the fellow meant mischief."
As the chief fell prone before them, the excited crowd of savages became
suddenly silent and rigid. Then von Schalckenberg waved his hand toward
the motionless figure, and said in solemn and impressive tones--
"So perish those who presume to dispute the will of the Four Spirits!
Let no one touch him, but let him lie there as a warning to other
rebellious natures--if such, perchance, should be among you."
At this moment, Lobelalatutu and his band reappeared, with M'Bongwele in
their midst. The king's heavy features wore a sullen, savage expression
as he was led forward through the narrow lane that the assembled
warriors opened out for his passage; and he threw upward a single glance
of mingled fear and defiance at the little group of white men as he
advanced. As he reached the open space that intervened between the ship
and the thickly massed crowd of his people, and came to a halt, he
looked quickly about him, and suddenly demanded, in a loud, harsh tone
of voice--
"Where is Malatambu? Let him stand forth!"
"Behold, he lies there, dead, slain by the mighty magic of the Great
Spirits!" answered a chief, pointing to the prostrate body of the man
who had fallen before the professor's rifle.
The king threw a single keen glance at the dead man, grunted
inarticulately, and was silent.
"Listen, M'Bongwele!" said von Schalckenberg. "How is it that, having
banished you for your former evil deeds, we find you here again upon our
return?"
"I was unhappy away from my people, and therefore I returned," answered
the king, sullenly.
"And, having returned, your first act was to slay Seketulo. Is it not
so?" demanded the professor.
"Why should I not slay him?" retorted M'Bongwele. "The Makolo need not
two kings; and Seketulo knew not how to govern them."
"Therefore you slew him?" persisted the professor.
"Therefore I slew him," assented M'Bongwele.
"Also you slew twelve white men and two white women who were found in
distress by your people, although you knew that such acts were
displeasing to us, and that we had forbidden them," asserted the
professor.
"Nay," said M'Bongwele; "I slew but the twelve white men. Of the two
women, the elder slew the younger, and then slew herself. But what
matters it how they died? Am not I the king; and may I not do as I will
in mine own country?"
"And how died the white men?" demanded von Schalckenberg.
"Some died on ants' nests; some were crucified; some were--nay, how can
I say? It is long ago, and I have forgotten," answered the king,
sullenly.
"And they are not the only people who have died in torment since your
return. Many of your own people have suffered at your word. Is it not
so?"
"It is so," answered the king. "They were rebellious subjects; so they
perished."
"How knew you that they were rebellious?" demanded von Schalckenberg.
"My witch-doctors told me so. Is that not enough?" retorted M'Bongwele.
"And how knew the witch-doctors that they were rebellious?" inquired the
professor.
"They found it out through their magic; even as you, through your magic,
found out that I had returned to my people," answered the king.
"Are those witch-doctors present? If so, let them stand forth,"
exclaimed the professor.
For a space of two or three minutes there was no direct reply to this
challenge, but merely a subdued commotion among the assembled multitude
of warriors. Then the professor, growing impatient, called to
Lobelalatutu.
"Are the witch-doctors present, Lobelalatutu?"
"Nay, Great Spirit, they are not present. Doubtless they are to be
found in their huts," answered the chief, saluting.
"Then, take men with you to those huts, find the witch-doctors, bind
them with thongs, and bring them forth to judgment," commanded von
Schalckenberg.
A few minutes of dead silence now followed, at the end of which there
arose, among the more distant huts, outcries and sounds of commotion,
and presently the chief and his party reappeared, leading forth ten old
and grizzled men of most villainously cunning and repulsive appearance,
whose hands were bound behind them. These were brought to the front and
ranged in line by the side of the king.
The professor looked at them intently for a full minute, they returning
his look with an insolent glare of defiance. Then he said--
"Which of you is the chief of the witch-doctors?"
"I, even I, M'Pusa, am the chief witch-doctor. What want ye with me,
white man?" answered the most hideously repulsive-looking individual of
the party, sending a look of concentrated hatred and vindictiveness
upward at the professor.
"It is charged against you that you have cruelly and maliciously incited
the man M'Bongwele--who falsely calls himself `king'--to condemn many
people to suffer death by torture, under the pretence that they were
conspiring against him, knowing all the while that your accusations were
false. What explanation or excuse have you to offer for your
wickedness?" demanded the professor, sternly.
The man pondered for a moment, as though considering what answer he
should make. At length he looked up, and said--
"Why should I make excuse? The men were my enemies, and I used such
power as I possessed to destroy them."
"It is enough," said von Schalckenberg.