Edward Harden, rifle in hand, led the way, followed by Crouch and the
four Fans. As they entered the stockade, expecting to be attacked from
all sides in the darkness, they opened out in accordance with a
pre-arranged plan. Crouch turned to the left and Edward to the right;
and then, taking post on the banquette, they stood ready to fire.
For a few seconds there was absolute silence. The situation was so
unlooked for that they could not, at first, realize what had happened.
Then Crouch’s voice was lifted in the night.
"By Christopher, the rats are gone!"
Max, guided by the sound of these words, found the sea-captain in the
darkness, and confirmed his suspicions. He said that he had been
several minutes within the stockade, and had neither seen nor heard a
living soul.
It seemed as if the valley of the Hidden River would maintain its
reputation to the last. There was no end to mystery. Time and again
were they confronted with facts that they were wholly unable to explain.
It was M’Wané who found a lantern in the hut which had formerly been
occupied by de Costa; and with the help of this they searched the huts,
one after the other, in the hope of being able to discover Cæsar’s line
of retreat.
It was not possible that the Portuguese and his Arab attendants had left
the stockade by way of the gate. By day, the garrison had been under
the constant observation of their sentinel on the hills. Every night,
as soon as it was sufficiently dark to permit them to approach, the
stockade had been surrounded. They found nothing suspicious in any one
of the huts, until they came to Cæsar’s, before which the yellow flag
still unfurled itself upon the wind. Here they discovered that the ruby
chest had gone.
Now, it would require four men, at least, to carry this heavy chest to
the water’s edge, and even then, the task could not have been
accomplished without noise. It was impossible to believe that the
garrison had passed through the little investing force by dead of night.
And yet, as far as they could see, there was no other means of escape.
Cæsar and his slave-drivers had vanished as suddenly and unaccountably
as if they had been spirited away.
They separated and searched the stockade from end to end. It was M’Wané
who gained the first clue, who came running breathlessly to Crouch.
"Master," he cried, "the wood-stack has been moved."
Within the stockade they had noticed on their arrival a great quantity
of firewood, which had been cut in the adjacent forest. On approaching
this, Crouch saw at once that the wood-stack had been pulled down as if
in haste. Calling out to Edward to bring the lantern, he awaited
further developments. No sooner had Harden arrived than the mystery was
solved.
Leading downward into the ground was a broad flight of steps. A kind of
tunnel had been formed under the sand, about four feet wide and six feet
high, revetted by wooden beams. So all the time Cæsar had been at
liberty to escape, whenever he felt that he was sufficiently recovered
of his wound to undertake the journey.
When Cæsar had constructed his stockade in the heart of the wilderness,
he had been prepared for all eventualities and had neglected nothing. He
had unlimited labour at his disposal. Knowing the nature of his
business, and the hatred with which he was likely to be regarded by the
neighbouring tribes, he had thought it likely that, at some future date,
he might be called upon to undergo a siege. That siege might last for
several months, by which time his provisions would be exhausted and he
obliged to retreat. As far as they were able to discover, the
subterranean passage had been made during the absence of de Costa on a
two-months’ journey to the Coast, in order to procure fresh supplies of
dynamite. From the fact that the half-caste knew nothing whatsoever of
the passage, it seems likely that the Portuguese had all along intended
to desert his companion at the eleventh hour.
Without a word, Edward Harden descended the steps, holding the lantern
on high to guide his friends who followed. The passage lay in a
bee-line throughout the whole of its length. It was about three hundred
yards long, and whilst it ran through the sandy sub-soil in the crater
of Makanda, both its walls and roof consisted of solid logs. For the
last hundred yards it pierced the living rock, and at last came forth in
the impenetrable darkness of the forest.
By the aid of the lantern they were able to discover a path which led to
the left, and after a few minutes’ walking, this brought them to the
river bank. Here, in the soft mud, was the indentation of the bows of a
canoe. Moreover, the place was so screened by trees and tall reeds that
no one, passing either up or down the river, would suspect for a moment
that here was a mooring-place. It was here that the "phantom canoe" had
lain, to be brought upstream by two or three of the Arabs from the
stockade on the night of the attack.
No sooner did Crouch observe this evidence of the means Cæsar had taken
to escape, than he shook his fist in the air.
"He’s gone down-stream," he cried. "But, I’ll follow him, if he leads
me a ten-years’ journey through the wilderness. I’ll overtake that man,
and I’ll kill him. I swear it. I swear that I’ll never set eyes upon
the shores of England again, until I know that he is dead."
And that was the oath of Captain Crouch, which--when we have got to the
end of the story--will prove to us that oaths are very futile after all.
The strength of man is limited; in face of the wonders of the universe,
his knowledge is indeed small. He may be strong and brave and
unswerving of his purpose; but, after all, where men teem in cities, no
less than in the heart of the illimitable and mighty forest, there is a
greater Power than anything that is human--the all-pervading Spirit of
the Universe, before whom the foolish vows of men are of infinitesimal
account.
Crouch had flown too often in the face of Providence not to be aware of
that; but, just then, he was well-nigh mad with wrath and restless with
excitement. Snatching the lantern from Edward’s hand he raced along the
passage, until they found themselves again within the stockade.
Still, the captain never paused. He passed through the gate, and thence
ascended the hills. They found the slave-camp absolutely silent. On
every hand the unhappy negroes lay stretched upon the ground, and there
in the middle of them was de Costa, nature striving to maintain the
spark of life within that fever-stricken body, by means of healthful
slumber. On the eastern horizon, beyond the unknown hills which they
had seen from Solitude Peak, the dawn was rising in a flood.
With scant ceremony Crouch awakened first de Costa, then every one of
the slaves. Through the medium of the half-caste he spoke to the
natives as follows--
"We found you slaves, we have made you freemen. Are you grateful for
what we have done?"
A murmur arose from the crowd. They said that they were mindful of what
they owed to the white wizard and his brave companions.
"Then," said Crouch, "you can help us. We are going down-river. We
must start at once. We must take all our baggage, our stores and
ammunition. There are six canoes at the kraal, and these will be
sufficient. But we will need porters to make the journey through the
jungle to the Kasai. If you come with us, to carry our loads and
canoes, we will pay you in cowrie shells and beads, brass rods and
cloth."
To a man they volunteered, and not five minutes later a caravan of fifty
carriers, protected by seven rifles, descended to the lake before
Makanda.
In less than an hour the canoes were loaded, and then the expedition
shot down the stream, the canoes following one behind the other in
single file. Crouch led the way, his quick eye sweeping either bank in
search of the place where Cæsar had embarked. Max, in the last canoe
brought up the rear.
As the canoes gained the point where the sandy plain around the
settlement gave place to the density of the jungle, all turned and
looked back upon Makanda. To the slaves, many of whom had worked for
two years under the whip, without hope of ultimate salvation, it was as
if they looked their last upon their prison doors. As for the
Englishmen, they remembered that grey, steaming morning when they had
first come within sight of the stockade, when Cæsar had fired at them
from the water.
All that had happened in the weeks that followed was like some strange,
swift-moving dream.
It was midday when they reached their old camp at Hippo Pool, and Harden
and Crouch disembarked, to see if they could find traces of Cæsar’s
escape on the line of their former portage.
They met with instant success. Some one had passed within the course of
the last few hours.
In consequence, the loads were disembarked. Three canoes were sunk, and
the remaining three lifted high and dry upon the bank. It was whilst
this work was in progress that Crouch, to his infinite delight,
discovered his case of glass eyes, which he had left in camp on the
morning of their adventure at Leopard Marsh.
They were obliged to halt for a few hours for food. They had brought
with them a week’s rations for their men: plantain flour, soaked manioc
and ears of corn. It was two o’clock when the caravan began to move
through the jungle towards the Kasai. They eventually reached one of
their old camps by Observation Pool. Their progress was necessarily
slow. The slaves were in no fit condition to do a forced march through
the jungle; and that night it was decided that Edward and Max and the
Fans should push on ahead, in an endeavour to overtake the fugitives,
and failing that to bring back the Loango boys to help. Crouch was to
follow with the caravan with what dispatch he could.
In two days, the advanced party reached the place where the creek turned
to the south. Cæsar’s tracks still followed the old route direct to
Date Palm Island.
On the fifth day of their journey from Hippo Pool, they came upon a
place where Cæsar had turned to the north. Edward was an experienced
tracker, but it did not require the eye of an expert to see that human
beings had turned from the portage and followed an elephant track to the
Kasai. For a moment, Harden was undecided how to act. If he continued
on his way to Date Palm Island, some days might be wasted before he
again picked up the trail. In the end he decided to send Max and the
three Fans to the north, and go himself with M’Wané to the Island.
There he would load up the canoe, send half the boys down-stream on the
look-out for Max, and bring the others back to the portage to assist the
slaves.
The following morning he shook hands with his nephew, and continued on
the old route with which he was now familiar. He had not gone far,
however, before he noticed bloodstains on the leaves of the undergrowth;
and presently, to his utmost surprise, he came across one of the Loango
boys wounded by a bullet in the leg, and crawling painfully on hands and
knees towards the river.
This boy said that he had been hunting in the jungle--for they were
short of food on the Island--when he had come across a caravan
consisting of six Arabs and a white man. They were carrying a canoe
half-filled with supplies, and a great box which appeared to be
excessively heavy. The white man who led the way, seemed to be very
weak, for he staggered as he walked. Indeed, it is impossible to
imagine the hardships that the tall Portuguese underwent upon that last
and fateful journey. So anxious was he to save his rubies, to gain the
sea-coast in safety, that he had not brought with him sufficient
supplies. In consequence, he and his men were starving and, as we shall
see, they had an even more deadly foe to reckon with.
M’Wané, picking up the wounded boy in his arms, carried him like a baby
throughout the rest of the journey to Date Palm Island. There the man’s
wound was attended to, and he was placed in a canoe which was ready
loaded two hours after Edward had reached the river.
Once more Harden set forth upon his old track, leaving instructions that
the canoe was to drop down-stream on the afternoon of the following day.
The Loango boys from the Island, though they had complained of being
short of food, were in fine condition; and the party came up with Crouch
at the end of the second day. Thence they made better headway and,
following Cæsar’s trail, arrived eventually at the river, where they
found not only Max and the Fans, but the party from the Island.
And now followed a race down the river after the slave-drivers and their
chest of rubies. The three canoes which had been carried from the
Hidden River, were embarked on the Kasai. The slaves who had acted as
porters on the journey were given the option of finding their own way
back to their villages or going down to the Congo in the canoes. There
was never the slightest doubt that the majority would choose the former
course. Half their number had come from the Pambala village on the
slopes of Solitude Peak, and a score from other villages farther to the
south-west. In all there were only five who desired to journey to the
Congo, and these were men whom Cæsar had captured in the land of the
Bakutu.
The current of the river was so swift that the four canoes shot
down-stream at a great velocity with little help from the paddles. On
the upper reaches of the great river, rapids and waterfalls were
frequent, and at such times it was necessary to carry the canoe to
unbroken water. At each portage they found traces of Cæsar and his
Arabs. Once the camp-fire of the Portuguese was still alight, and soon
after that, on rounding a point, they came in sight of a canoe.
They thought at first that they had overtaken Cæsar, but they were
doomed to be disappointed. With the aid of their fieldglasses they
ascertained that the canoe was coming towards them, working slowly
up-stream against the force of the current.
They were still more surprised when they recognised, seated in the stern
of this canoe, the white solar topee and the black coat of a European.
A few minutes later Crouch was within hail.
"Who are you?" he asked, with both hands to his mouth.
And the answer came back in the accent of Aberdeen: "James Mayhew, of
the Scottish Missionary Society."
That, indeed, was so. This man alone, attended only by a few native
servants, was forcing his way in the absolute Unknown, in order to bring
the enlightenment of Christian knowledge into the depths of an endless
forest, inhabited by cannibals and dwarfs. They had time only to
congratulate the missionary upon his courage, and to wish him every
success. Crouch gave Mr. Mayhew directions as to how to reach the
Hidden Valley, and told him that, if he found his way to Solitude Peak
and said that he had come from the "White Wizard," he would find many
converts among the liberated slaves and the people of the village.
On being asked whether he had seen the Portuguese and his Arabs on the
river, the Missionary answered that he had passed them not an hour ago.
The Arabs had been paddling furiously, as if their lives depended upon
their reaching the Congo with as little delay as possible. As for the
Portuguese, he had been lying as if sick, in the body of the canoe, with
his head propped against a great ironbound chest.
Crouch waited to hear no more. Waving his hand to the Missionary, he
gave orders for the journey to continue.
That evening, they expected to arrive at Cæsar’s camp, but by midnight
they had come to the conclusion that the man was resolved to push on
without halting for food.
It was now that M’Wané and his four companions--the three that had gone
to Solitude Peak and the one who had been left at the Island--asked to
be put ashore. They said they were not far from their own people, and
were desirous of returning home. For all that, they were extremely
sorry to leave their masters, the great white men who had overcome the
Fire-gods.
When they left, there was much hand-shaking. Each man was presented
with a rifle and several rounds of ammunition, in addition to that they
received enough beads, brass rods, and cloth, to gladden the hearts of
any savage who ever roamed the equatorial forests.
Throughout the night the canoes paddled to the north-west. All this
time de Costa lay in the body of a canoe, groaning with ague and
shivering from fever. It is a strange thing that in the close and humid
atmosphere of the forest there is little malaria or malarial typhoid,
which cause such havoc among the white men on the great rivers of the
Congo Basin. For it is above the surface of the water that the
mosquitoes swarm, which breed these fell diseases.
At daybreak they sighted Cæsar. They saw his canoe for no longer than
an instant as it rounded a bend in the river. The natives plied their
paddles with a will, and Crouch, in the vanguard of the pursuit held his
rifle ready to fire.
All day long, beneath the blazing tropic sun, with the insects droning
in their ears and the yellow seething water rushing onward to the sea,
this strange race continued.
Three times did they catch sight of the fugitives; once in the morning,
once at mid-day, and the last time when the afternoon was drawing to a
close.
By then they were not five hundred yards in the rear. It seemed
probable that the Portuguese would be overtaken before night. Throughout
that day native settlements on either bank of the river had been
frequent. They were but two hundred miles above the point where the
Kasai joins the Congo, to the north of Stanley Pool.
At last they entered a broad reach, where the river was straight as a
Roman road. On either side the jungle rose to the height of about two
hundred feet--a tangled mass of vegetation, of creepers, vines,
convolvuli, so densely interwoven as to give the effect of endless
walls. Far in the distance, at the end of this long reach, they could
see an island standing in mid-stream, as if it floated on the surface of
the river.
Resolved to overtake the man before darkness set in and assisted his
escape, they urged the canoes forward, until Cæsar recognised himself
for lost. Two shots from Crouch, and Cæsar’s canoe drew in to the bank
of the island.
As they approached they saw the Portuguese lifted out of his canoe in
the arms of his faithful Arabs, and deposited on the bank. Then the
Arabs, taking their rifles in their hands, opened fire on their
pursuers.
They realized at once that resistance would be hopeless. The Loango
boys, after many weeks of inactivity on Date Palm Island, were spoiling
for a fight. Not all of them were armed with rifles, but the odds were
two to one against the Arabs, who knew that they could always trust the
white men to show mercy. No sooner had the Englishmen set foot upon the
island than they delivered up their arms.
Had Crouch shot them on the spot these men, who for two years had been
scourging slaves with their whips, had got no more than they deserved.
As it was, their weapons were not given back to them, and they were
turned adrift upon the great river, with a week’s provisions, to find
their way back as best they might to some settlement of their own kith
and kin.
And then the Englishmen were able to give their attention to Cæsar. The
tall man lay upon the ground, rigid as in death. The whole party
gathered around him, with the exception of de Costa, who was himself too
ill to land upon the island.
Cæsar’s complexion was a dull, slaty-blue. His face was drawn and
haggard, his eyes had sunk deep into their sockets. As Max pushed his
way through the inquisitive Loango boys, who stood gaping at the dying
man, Cæsar struggled to a sitting position, and supporting his back
against a tree, looked savagely about him.
"Stand back!" cried Max. "It’s cholera!"
It was then he realized the truth. Cæsar had thrashed one of his slaves
for no greater crime than having contracted the pestilence that was
ravaging his camp. Max had snatched the whip from the man’s hand and
brought down upon his face and hands and back the cruel thong, whose
very touch was contagion. And thus was the vengeance of God, upon one
who had done evil all his days, taken from the hands of Captain Crouch.
Max was actually on his way back to his canoe to procure his medicine
chest when the man looked about him, rolled his eyes to the heavens, as
if he who had shown so little of mercy to others thought to find it
there. Then he fell back with a groan, and lay cramped and twisted in
the agony of his death.
That night, they buried him upon the island. They filled ammunition
boxes with the rubies, and burnt the chest against which Cæsar had
rested his head. And then, they left him in the starlight, in the midst
of the great stillness of the lonely river, to make his peace with God.