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."
[Illustration: 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.