John's first proceeding when the conflagration had been stayed was to
look for the property he had been at such pains to recover. The
camp-fires gave too little light, so he got Coja to make a couple of
torches. Taking one himself and giving the other to Ferrier, he
hastened to the centre of the camp, where the baggage was piled. On the
way he passed a confused medley of things--sleeping mats, cooking pots,
bows and arrows, spears--things left or flung down by the fugitives in
their hurried flight. And there, packed in the middle space, out of
reach of the fires, were his boxes of ammunition and his rifles.
"We've got the lot, by Jove!" he exclaimed joyfully. "They haven't even
opened one of the boxes. What extraordinary luck!"
"Couldn't be better," cried Ferrier heartily. "And you've got more than
your own, too; there's a good many bows and arrows and a few spears,
besides no end of baskets containing food, I suppose."
"Yes, they belong to the villagers. We'll make them a present of the
bows and arrows and spears, and anything else they can find, bar the
rifles. There aren't many spears; I suppose the rascals slept with them
at their side, and snatched them up when they ran. Hallo! Here are two
of the Sniders that Juma ran off with in his first little scheme. That
makes three we've recovered."
"And proves that Juma is at the bottom of it."
"I should like to lay that fellow by the heels. But we'd better get
something to eat. I'm famishing. Where's our failed B.A.?"
"Here, sir," said a voice at John's elbow. "I obeyed in all points your
esteemed injunctions at closest possible proximity, and tender hearty
congratulations on the success, not in mortals to command, but more,
deserved, which has attended this tour de force."
"Well now, make up the fire and see what you can do to get us a meal.
I'll go and talk to the young chief, Charley, and butter him up. He and
his men did jolly well. The shouts they let out when I gave the word
made amends for their silence during the march, which must have been a
trial to them."
Said Mohammed made up the fire and hunted about for the best cooking-pot
and the articles of fare he thought would be most pleasing to the white
men. The villagers had already set to work to prepare their own food,
chattering and laughing in high elation. Within a quarter of an hour
Said Mohammed had made a stew of some partly cooked waterbuck he had
discovered. He washed out two rough mugs of clay, and pouring the stew
into them, handed one to each of the young men.
"A thousand regrets, gentlemen," he said, "that circs. do not admit of
more dainty dishes and service to match."
"That's all right," said John. "I could eat anything, and this stew is
first-rate."
"Permit me to remark, sir, on national characteristics as displayed by
gastronomic ways of going on, utensils, et cetera. The nation, sir,
that invented gas-stoves produced Shakespeare, bard of Avon; what
achievements in science or literature could be expected from a race that
never devilled kidney nor poached egg? Shakespeare himself, sir, was a
poacher in giddy youth; though poaching egg and poaching stag are in
some respects different, yet each is fine art. The fate of empires
lurks in the saucepan; indeed, the mightiest monarch would be negligible
quantity without quantum suff. Wherefore----"
"A little more stew, please," said John, interrupting. "You'd better
get your own supper, khansaman; you must be pretty peckish after your
exertions."
"I am indeed, sir, an abhorred vacuum, and retire with permission to get
jolly good tuck-in."
"Thank goodness!" ejaculated John when he had gone. "I say, Charley, I
was getting very nervous when we didn't see the light for so long. You
were pulled up by that hedge, of course; how did you get through?"
"Burrowed like a mole. I've a greater respect for that animal now. I
suppose we'll make tracks for home in the morning, by the bye?"
"Well, d'you know, I'd rather like to finish this job now we've started.
Juma's still at large: his men are a rabble, of course, but they're not
licked, and if he gets them back to this fort of his he may still worry
us, to say nothing of harrying the people about him. What do you say?
Are you game?"
"What about the farm?"
"Gillespie will have sent somebody up by the time we could get back."
"But don't you think we've done for Juma? To-night's work will damage
his prestige, and I shouldn't wonder if the 'bad men,' as Bill calls
them, round on him now."
"I don't know. It will take him some time to recover from the blow, of
course, but you see he still has some of our rifles and a certain amount
of ammunition, I should think, and they'll go a long way in this country
of bows and arrows. No: I confess I'd like to follow him up. The chief
difficulty is our natives. They've recovered their property, which is
what they came for, and I rather doubt whether they'll be willing to go
any farther from home. If they won't there's no more to be said."
"In any case we aren't strong enough to storm the fort, if it is a
fort."
"I shouldn't propose to do that. My idea is to start at sunrise or
before, and get to the fort in advance of Juma. His men are quite
demoralized: they'll take some time to rally. They'll probably hide in
trees during the night, and they'll have to find one another in the
morning, so that if we start early we can easily outstrip them."
"We don't know the way."
"But we've got some prisoners, my boy. No, we haven't though; I called
our men off before they caught them. That's awkward."
"I wonder if the fellow who tried to pot me is still alive."
"You didn't tell me of that. When was it?"
Ferrier related the incident that happened outside the boma. John at
once accompanied him to the spot, which they reached just in time to see
the wounded man limping towards the outer hedge. They ran after him and
caught him, taking him back to the camp, where John examined his leg,
and did what he could by bathing and bandaging. Meanwhile he questioned
the man, and learnt from him that the fort lay a long day's march to the
north. It was held by about forty men, of whom several were Swahilis
and had rifles. The fort was built on an island in the river--not the
stream flowing past the camp, but a broader river into which that
emptied itself a day's march to the south. To find it would be easy.
They had only to follow the stream for a short distance, and then strike
across country directly to the north. They would soon come upon the
river, and the surrounding country being hilly, the easiest way to the
fort was to follow its course.
"Now we'll tackle our natives," said John.
He found, as he had expected, that they were at first loath to engage
themselves for a further expedition. They had recovered their property:
the chief would be expecting them; they wanted to return and celebrate
their success by a feast. John pointed out that, though they had done
much, they would greatly enhance their glory if they carried back a
great quantity of spoil from the enemy. They had been wantonly
attacked: why not repay their attackers in their own coin? The fort
would certainly contain things worth having. This argument appealed to
the men, and when the chief's son reminded them that the wasungu had
kept their promise and led them to a bloodless victory, they began to
waver. "The wasungu are great hunters of lions," said the young chief;
"they are also great hunters of men." John said that any who wished to
go home might do so; but none were disposed to pass through the country
without the whole body, and ultimately they agreed to follow the msungu
wherever he chose to lead them. "You've a most persuasive tongue," said
Ferrier to John, as they went away to talk things over. "I'm inclined
to think you ought to have gone to the bar after all."
"Bosh! The judges aren't savages. We shall have to arrange a flying
column--that's the name for it, isn't it? It's quite clear from what
the prisoner said that we must get to the fort well in advance of Juma.
If they get back we shan't be able to dislodge them: they won't be
caught napping again, you may be sure. As it is, we may find it a hard
nut to crack if there are forty men in the fort. We shall have to
divide forces, too. We must leave enough men to guard this loot, and
I'm afraid we can't both go, old chap: one of us must remain in charge."
"Well, you've done the hardest work so far: you take a rest and let me
try my luck."
"But you fired the boma; it's my turn. Tell you what, we'll toss for
it. Heads I go, tails you do as you please."
The spin of the coin decided for John.
"Just my luck," said Ferrier. "I always lost the toss when I captained
the lacrosse team at McGill's. How many men will you take?"
"I can't do with fewer than twenty. I'll take Bill; Coja and Said
Mohammed had better remain with you. By the way, you'll send over to
our old camp in the morning and fetch the half-dozen we left there.
They'll jump out of their skins if they're left too long. I wonder if
our wounded prisoner could manage to come with me. I might find him
useful. In fact, I'll take him--on a litter if he can't walk."
"Well, you'd better get a sleep now, or you won't be fit for much in the
morning. The men too. It looks as though they meant to jabber all
night."
"I'll stop that. I'll go and pick my men and make 'em go to sleep. Wake
me at five, there's a good chap. By Jove! Wouldn't my old dad be in a
stew if he knew what was up! We're risking a lot when you come to think
of it; but we've been lucky so far, and with rifles and plenty of
ammunition I fancy we'll win through. If I'm not back within two or
three days you had better make tracks for the farm. Don't forget to
wake me at five."
"All right. Pleasant dreams!"
Precisely at five o'clock John was roused, to find ready for him a
breakfast of steaming stew and baked millet cakes. Ferrier had also
prepared a litter for the prisoner, whose wound forbade him to walk. At
half-past five the little company set off, consisting of John and the
Wanderobbo, and twenty of the villagers. John had his rifle, a spare
one being carried by a man at his side. Only two of the other men had
ever handled firearms; these were given rifles, and carried the
ammunition in little bundles slung to their backs. John had filled his
bandolier and his pockets with cartridges. Ferrier said good-bye to him
at the gate of the boma, and started the men left behind in a rousing
cheer.
The party marched very rapidly, John at the head with Bill and the
litter-bearers, so that the prisoner might keep them in the right way.
They followed the course of the stream for about a mile; then forded it,
and made across a stretch of grassland, in which, as the morning
advanced, they started large numbers of game. Just before noon they
reached the river of which the prisoner had spoken, a slow, gurgling
current of red water. Here they halted for a meal of beans and millet;
then after an hour's rest set forth again. They had gone but a short
distance up-stream when, as they ascended a slight acclivity, Bill was
seized with intense excitement. Pointing to a flat-topped hill many
miles away, he cried that it was there the Arab safari was attacked, and
near by the ivory was hidden. A projecting spur to the right was the
site of the shambas whence the people had pounced out to the assault.
His own old home lay half a day's journey beyond the hill.
John pressed on now even more rapidly. Though he had met with no
natives on the way, he could not be sure that some of the fugitives had
not outstripped him along another route. For the most part he kept to
the river, striking off here and there to avoid wide sweeping curves, as
the prisoner indicated. Presently he saw in the distance a bold bluff
rising to a hundred feet above the plain, and stretching across the line
of march. The fort, said the prisoner, lay a short distance beyond the
bluff, which was cut in two by the river. Up the side of the bluff
wound a steep pathway, and at the top a look-out was constantly
stationed, except at night, when he was withdrawn into the fort. From
this high post the plain could be seen for miles. Knowing how keen is
the negro's sight, John called a halt before it was likely that his
party had come within the range of vision. The rest of the journey must
be performed in the dark. He led the men into the bush at some distance
from the river, so that they should not be seen by any one who might
pass either to or from the fort. Again he impressed upon them the
necessity for silence.
At nightfall, refreshed by the rest, they started once more, confident
of being able to approach the bluff unobserved. An hour's march under
the pale light of the stars brought them to its foot, and John heard the
noise of water rushing swiftly through the gorge. The pathway, said the
prisoner, started from a spot very near the river-bank. Even with his
directions it proved by no means easy to find in the darkness, and when
at last they lit upon it, and John began the ascent, it was scarcely
less difficult to keep to the track. Bill fell on his knees and groped
along it with his hand, saying when he arose that it had not been made
originally by men, but trodden by game descending from the hills to the
plain.
Coming at length, after a tortuous and toilsome climb, to the summit,
John paused to take breath and to look about him. Below on his left he
could now see the foaming river racing through the gorge. Beyond, the
ground sloped gradually to the plain. There was no sound save that of
the swirling water, no sign of the presence of men. He went on, until
he came once more to the brink of the river, and a mile further on saw
gleaming in the starlight a broad pool, in the midst of which rose a
dark mass. This, said the prisoner, was the island and fort, and at the
upper end of the pool the river ran down swiftly, but not so swiftly as
below.
Striking off to the right towards a belt of woodland, John led his party
until they came opposite the island. It was dark and silent: no one
would have supposed that the fort held men. John could see an irregular
path leading from the shore to the island. This, said the prisoner, was
a line of rocks flung down into the water, and so narrow that only one
man could walk along it at a time. There was a gap between the island
and the end of the causeway. The prisoner explained that a bridge was
thrown over the gap to enable men to enter and leave the fort, the wall
of which came to within a few feet of the shore of the island. At night
the bridge was drawn up.
John stood to consider his next move. His purpose in bringing the
prisoner was to use him as a decoy to draw the garrison from the fort.
He was confronted with a difficulty. The man could not walk. He would
be useless as a decoy unless he could advance along the causeway so far
as to bring him within hearing of his fellows. The bullet was still in
the man's leg; John wished he had thought of probing the wound before;
it was impossible to do it now. The negro is a hardy animal, stolid
under pain. John promised to give the man a handsome present if he
would leave the litter and go with a message to the fort. The man
agreed with such alacrity as to suggest an intention of treachery, but
John provided against that. He had the prisoner bound to him by a cord
about his ankle, and showing him his revolver, he explained what the
result would be if he did anything but what he was told to do. He
carefully instructed the prisoner in the part he was required to play,
repeating his words so that he could not mistake. Then, having placed
the remainder of his party under cover of the wood, he set forth with
the negro.
There was now a light in the fort, and the glow of a fire. Clearly
somebody was awake. The two men walked down to the edge of the pool,
and on to the causeway, the guide limping painfully, but uttering no
murmur. John walked close behind him, so that he might not be descried
from the fort. They had gone about half-way along the causeway when a
voice rang out from some point ahead. The prisoner gave an answering
shout. John's nerves were at too high a tension to permit of his
feeling amusement at the greetings that were exchanged.
"Is it well?"
"It is well."
"Ah!"
"Ah!"
"Um!"
"Um!"
"Have you eaten well?"
"We have eaten well.
"Ma!"
"Ma!"
"Mum!"
"Mum!"
Civilities being thus completed, they got to business. The prisoner
recited the story with which he had been prompted, so glibly that a
white man might have doubted its veracity. He said that he brought good
news. The brave warriors (meaning Juma's party), under their brave
leader, had sacked the msungu's farm and the neighbouring village, and
made much plunder, so vast a quantity, indeed, that they were exhausted
in carrying it. He had been sent in advance to order thirty men to
issue forth and help the weary warriors in conveying their spoils up the
bluff.
"It is dark," said the sentry.
"It is the leader's command," was the reply. "He will be like a raging
lion if you delay."
Another voice was heard within the fort. In a few moments the sentry
cried--
"We come."
"Ah!" said the prisoner.
"Ah!" echoed the sentry.
Then, before the garrison could issue from the gate and lay the bridge
across the gap, the prisoner cried that he would hasten back and inform
Juma that the men were coming. He turned, and followed John along the
causeway until they reached the shore. Then the two hurried across the
open to rejoin the ambushed party. The prisoner, who had borne up
stoically hitherto, collapsed with pain before they reached the wood;
and John, alarmed lest his stratagem should be defeated at a moment when
success seemed assured, set the man upon his back and ran into shelter.
A few minutes afterwards he saw a line of men, headed by a Swahili in a
white garment, come across the causeway from the fort, and turn to the
right along the path leading to the bluff. John was tingling with
excitement. All was going well: would his luck hold? The men's voices
faded away in the distance. He gave them ten minutes; then bidding his
men follow him closely, he ran down to the shore, and on to the
causeway. As he expected, the bridge had been left spanning the gap in
readiness for the laden safari. Waiting only to see that the men were
close at his heels, John dashed over the last few feet, straight into
the fort. A dozen men were squatting in a group about a small fire in
the middle of the compound. They looked up as they heard the tread of
men, but before they could spring to their feet, before, indeed, their
slow minds suspected that anything was amiss, they were bowled over by
the rush of twenty sturdy savages with a white man at their head, and
lay in shaking terror on the ground, howling for mercy.
John had ordered his men to do no killing. They were surprised, but
obeyed. Shouting for silence, he called to the panic-stricken garrison
to march out of the fort. They sprang up and fled like a flock of
terrified sheep, out of the gate and along the causeway, yelling as they
ran. When the last was gone, and none but his own men were left in the
place, John caught up the bridge and drew it in. The capture of the
stronghold had taken three minutes.