"The Fire-gods’ thunder!" said M’Wané, in a kind of hushed whisper, with
his lips parted and his eyes staring in the direction of the Hidden
River.
It was obvious that the man was afraid. He belonged to a wild race that
for centuries has roamed the jungle, catching fish in baskets at the
waterfalls and setting traps in the forest. Until a few days before he
had never seen a firearm in his life. He had heard tales of white men
who were traders on the Coast, but he had never associated these with
the Fire-gods who inhabited the Hidden Valley, whom he regarded as
superhuman.
Crouch looked at Edward. "What do you make of it?" he asked.
Harden was frowning in the direction of the valley. His fingers tugged
at the end of his moustache. He was a man of few words, as we know.
"Dynamite," said he.
"I think so, too," said Crouch. "I wonder what his game is!"
In their immediate neighbourhood was a narrow stretch of grass--the
coarse, thin grass that is usually to be met with on the lower slopes of
mountains. It was at this moment that Crouch’s eye became fixed in the
centre of this. He remained motionless for some seconds, and then on a
sudden grasped Edward by the arm.
"There’s a man there!" said he. "Look out!"
Simultaneously a black form sprang out of the grass and ran up the hill
in the direction of the village. Crouch whipped round upon M’Wané and
his Fans.
"After him!" he cried. "A reward if you catch him alive."
The four Fans set off as fast as they could go. The race lasted no
longer than five minutes at the most. The fugitive seemed possessed of
the agility of an antelope when startled from its midday slumber; he
sprang over boulders, he dodged right and left like a snipe. But the
Fans were fleeter of foot than he; at every stride they gained upon him,
and in the end he was overtaken.
They brought him back to Crouch--a woeful, terrified object who had not
the courage to lift his head. Crouch tried him with five languages, but
he seemed not to understand, and only gave utterance to a few incoherent
grunts. Then Crouch tried the "blood-bond," and this is not pleasant to
describe. He took a knife from his pocket, opened a vein in his hand,
and the native licked the wound. At that Crouch gave his knife to the
man, who in turn inflicted a wound upon himself, and Crouch went through
his part of the business with a heroism that Max was bound to admire.
They were now "blood-brothers," and that is a bond which is inviolable
in the region of the Congo. Crouch made the man understand him by means
of signs, in the art of which he was a master.
"I have one heart," said he, by which he conveyed the fact that he was
no traitor, that his word could be relied on. "I wish to speak with the
people of your village."
The man, pointing in the direction of Makanda, wanted to know whether
Crouch and his companions were allies of the Fire-gods.
"No," said Crouch. "We are come to make war upon the Fire-gods."
The man but half believed that. None the less, he agreed to take them
to the village. They urged him to set forward without delay, since it
had already grown dark.
It was past nightfall when they arrived at a narrow street of small,
rounded huts, constructed of bamboo stems and palm leaves. Despite the
fact that they came with one of the villagers, the majority of the
inhabitants fled at their approach. This wild people were timid, shy as
animals; also, as we shall see, they stood in a mortal fear of Cæsar and
his Arabs.
As they approached the village, Crouch managed to gain the confidence of
their captive. Where natives were concerned the little sea-captain had
a way with him. The man promised that if they would wait till the
morning he would persuade his friends to attend a palaver.
That night they had the village to themselves. The inhabitants--men,
women and children--had disappeared into the valley, where they spent
the night in fear and trembling. This is the common behaviour of many
uncivilized peoples when, for the first time in their lives, they behold
the indomitable white man. And these villagers had the greater reason
to be fearful, since they associated the explorers with the Fire-gods.
Fortunately, they had fled in such haste that they had left most of
their provisions in their huts. Crouch and his companions enjoyed a
change of diet. That night they dined upon the flesh of a goat, which
they resolved to pay for on the morrow, besides plantains and Indian
corn.
They took turn and turn about to keep watch throughout the night, but
there was no alarm. At daybreak they stationed themselves upon an
eminence above the village, hoping that the inhabitants would summon up
courage to return. Below them was the cultivated ground through which
they had passed the previous evening. The greater part had been given
over to the culture of ground-nuts; but there were also small patches of
Indian corn and banana groves. The explorer who wishes to succeed with
the untutored savage must possess his soul in patience by the hour.
Crouch sat down and lit his pipe.
Shortly before midday, several dusky figures appeared from out of the
jungle, and made their way to the plantation. There they remained in a
body, frightened to come nearer; and by the aid of his field-glass, Max
was able to make out the figure of Crouch’s "blood-brother" who,
gesticulating wildly, endeavoured to persuade his friends and relations
to return.
Seeing that this was going to be a long business, Crouch suggested that
they should walk down to the village and partake of food. Since their
hosts were unwilling to entertain them, it only remained for them to
help themselves. This they did with liberality, for they had the
appetites of lions.
They were in the middle of their repast when they heard the sound of
running feet and a great commotion. Looking up they beheld one of the
women of the village running towards them well-nigh panic-stricken, and
filling the air with screams. This woman rushed into a hut, and came
out again with all her portable belongings.
By then the little street was crowded with old men, women and children,
wringing their hands in desperation, and uttering such moans and
supplications as were heartrending to listen to. It was remarkable that
among the crowd there were not more than five young men at the most; the
majority were women, and of the children there were few who were not
three years of age.
Crouch looked about him, and caught sight of his "blood-brother," who
was no less distracted than the rest. He laid hold of this fellow by
the arm, and with great difficulty managed to discover what had
happened.
The "blood-brother" had just persuaded his relatives to return to the
village; he had explained, at last, to their satisfaction that the new
white men were not the servants of the Fire-gods, when suddenly the
Fire-gods themselves had been seen approaching up the valley. At that,
the whole population had taken to their heels. They knew not where they
were going, for it was the custom of the Fire-gods to come upon them
from both sides at once, and if they tried to escape they were shot
without mercy. The great Fire-god was there himself--the tall, white
man with the black beard--and it was he whom they feared even more than
the Arabs.
Crouch looked at Edward. There was a twinkle in his eye.
"There’s going to be fun," said he.
"It will come to a fight," said Edward; "and I’m not sorry for that."
"I hope it won’t," said Crouch. "There are many things we ought to find
out before we come to blows. As far as I can understand from my worthy
’blood-brother,’ Cæsar is coming here for palaver. They’ll hold palaver
in the street; and if we hide in a hut we ought to overhear what the
advertisements in the newspapers call ’something to our advantage.’"
"I see," said Edward; "and if we’re discovered, we fight."
"Exactly," said Crouch. "That’s the idea."
It so happened that they had placed their "loads" in one of the huts
where they would not be seen by Cæsar as he entered the village. It was
all Crouch could do to explain to his "blood-brother" that they desired
to hide, that the Fire-gods must not be told of their presence in the
village. After a while, the man seemed to understand; but, indeed, he
stood in such dread of the Portuguese that it was extremely doubtful
whether he was wholly responsible for what he was saying.
Crowded together in one of the small huts the three Englishmen and the
four Fans awaited the arrival of the Fire-gods. They were astonished at
what they beheld--the abject consternation and alarm of the villagers,
who now appeared a cowered and servile race. Never for one moment did
it seem to occur to the few men among them to take up arms, in spite of
the fact that the Pambala--to whom they were obviously related--are a
warlike and courageous people.
The reason for their cowardice was obvious. They did not fear the
Portuguese without a cause. They had learnt to their cost that Cæsar
was a man to be dreaded.
Crouch made a little eye-hole in the wall of the hut, whence he obtained
a good view of the street. It was through this that he caught sight of
Cæsar and de Costa, the moment they entered the village.
It was Cæsar himself who led the way. He strolled forward, with his
rifle under his arm, and his black eyes shooting in all directions, as
if he were doing no more than taking an afternoon walk in a
neighbourhood where there was much to be observed. He was followed by
four Arabs, in robes of flowing white; and the last of these conducted a
negro, of the same tribe as the villagers, who wore an iron collar round
his neck which was made fast to a chain. The rear of the party was
brought up by de Costa, slinking forward like some mongrel cur,
fever-stricken and afraid.
The party halted in the village street, some little distance from the
hut where the three Englishmen were hiding, but not so far away as to
make it impossible for Crouch to overhear the conversation that ensued.
The chained negro was brought forward by the Arab who had charge of him;
and it was this man who acted as interpreter. Cæsar spoke to him in
Portuguese, and he translated. Crouch made a mental note of every word,
for he had a far better knowledge of the Portuguese language than the
interpreter himself.
"As you know," said Cæsar, "it is my custom to state my business in a
few words. I come here to give orders. I expect those orders to be
obeyed."
He lifted his sombrero hat and mopped the perspiration from his
forehead, for the afternoon was hot, and he walked up hill. The four
Arabs stood around him--proud, arrogant, handsome men, upon whose
features were stamped an unmitigated contempt for the simple savages who
stood in awe before them. It was the headman of the village who
answered, an old man, with a short, grey beard, who wore a helmet made
of a monkey’s skin, and surmounted by the green covert feathers of a
parrot.
"The great Fire-god," said he, "has but to speak."
"Good," said Cæsar. "You know who I am. You know my power. You know
that to disobey me is death."
The old man bowed his head.
"I trade in ivory," said Cæsar, "black ivory. You understand what I
mean. Now, listen to my command. I desire twenty more slaves, of your
youngest and most able-bodied men. They must be ready to return with me
to Makanda before the setting of the sun."
At that the headman threw himself upon the ground.
"It is impossible!" he cried. "Only last moon the great Fire-god took
away all the men of the village. No one remains but those who are old,
and women and children. The Fire-god can see for himself."
"I do not choose to look," said Cæsar. "As I have said, it is my
business to give orders. There is sickness in my camp, and many of my
people have died, and more are dying every day. I require others to
take their places. If you have no more men, I will take women and
children. But I will require two women, or three boys over twelve and
under sixteen years of age, for every man. You can please yourself as
to which you give me. It is all the same to me."
"It is impossible!" repeated the native.
"Impossible or not," said the Portuguese, "I give you till sunset. If
these people are not ready then, the consequence is on your own head.
You know how I treated the villages on the other side of the mountain?
Your fate will be the same. I will attack by night; I will set fire to
every hut; and I will take every one of you to be my slaves."
"Mercy!" cried the native. But Cæsar turned upon his heel, and led the
way from the village, followed by his Arabs, who smiled in heartless
satisfaction.
Crouch gave time for Cæsar to be well away from the village. Then he
crawled out of the hut, and seizing his "blood-brother" by the hand,
swore that he would save them all.
At first, he quite failed to gain their confidence. They were convinced
in their minds that the Fire-gods were greater than all men, as the
strength of the elephant exceeds that of other beasts of the forest.
But Crouch would not take that for answer. He commanded them to light a
fire, and they obeyed. When the flames were burning brightly he
executed a war-dance round and round the fire. His antics were
extraordinary to see.
They may have thought him mad; but at all events he gained his object:
he drew them round him in a ring. They stood open-mouthed and
open-eyed, amazed at his contortions. They were children of the minute.
To all intents and purposes they had already forgotten the Portuguese
and his threats.
Crouch sang, and never was there such singing. His voice was cracked
and out of tune. It was all Max could do to prevent himself exploding
into laughter. The words of Crouch’s song had nothing to do with the
matter; in point of fact they were concerned with "Nuts and May." For
all that, he impressed the natives hugely. And when they had gathered
closer he took the boot from his foot, and thrust his toes into the
fire. And all the time he continued to sing of "Nuts and May," whilst
the atmosphere was tainted with the pungent smell of burning cork.
The silence was so great that Edward Harden could hear the ticking of
his watch. The villagers stood around, breathless and amazed. Then
Crouch spoke to them; and the following was the argument he used.
He admitted that the slave-dealer was master over fire; hence he was
called the "Fire-god." But he (Crouch) had proved to them that fire
could not affect him. Near-by a pitcher of water was standing outside a
hut, and into this he thrust his foot. There was a sizzling sound, and
steam was given off. He made the natives place their hands into the
water, to see for themselves that it was warm. He finished up by saying
that, if they would put themselves under his command, he would show them
how to face the Fire-god’s anger.
With reluctance they agreed. In the space of a few minutes it was
impossible for Crouch to efface the result of two long years of
persecution. The headman of the village, Crouch’s "blood-brother," and
one or two others, came forward on behalf of their relations, their
children and their wives. Crouch turned to Harden.
"Can we defend this place?" said he.
Edward had already thought of that.
"Yes," said he. "They can only advance by two paths. Elsewhere the
slope is too steep. There is an hour before sunset. If you make these
people build a wall of the small boulders which lie everywhere about, we
should be able to keep the rascals at bay."
"I’ll do my best," said Crouch. And thereupon he set to work.
It took the natives some time to understand his meaning; but when he had
shown them what he wanted done they worked with a will, the women
carrying enormous stones, and even the little children lending aid.
The parapet of stone grew like the walls of Rome, until, at last, it
formed a semi-circle around the village, joining the mountain-side at
either end. Then the women and children were placed under cover, and
ordered not to move. Edward posted himself at the head of the path
which led from the west, and Max on the other side of the village. At
the feet of each was a box of ammunition. As for Crouch, he hobbled
here and there on the charred stump of his foot, giving instructions up
to the last minute, when, in the dying light of day, Cæsar and his Arabs
were observed advancing up the valley.