The curiosity of the villagers was lulled after a time, and they went
about their usual occupations. The few men left lolled and loafed and
played at knuckle-bones: the women went into the fields and returned
loaded with vegetables. John found that he was not to be ill-treated;
he was given food when the villagers had their meals, and nobody
molested him. The guards dozed near by. But when night came it was
clear that the men had had orders to watch him strictly. He was bound
both hand and foot and taken into the hut, the two men remaining with
the evident intention of keeping him company through the night. Before
he entered he saw that Bill was not held of so much account. He too was
bound, but to all appearance he was left to himself: indeed, the hut
assigned to him, half in ruins, was so small that there would scarcely
have been room in it for another occupant.
John's discomfort this night sprang less from the insects, to which he
had become inured, than from the proximity of his guards. Armed with
spears, they did not trouble to keep awake, and he soon had proof that
snoring is not, as Ferrier had suggested, an accomplishment only of
civilized races. They might have been trumpeters! He lay oppressed in
the hot stifling air. Deep silence reigned in the village.
Escape! Why not try? The gate would be unguarded: the negro never
keeps watch unless he is on the war-path, and even then very slackly. If
he once gained the outside, he would have at least some hours in which
to make good his flight. His guards might wake; they might or might not
discover that he had gone; if they did miss him, it would be contrary to
their instinct and their custom if they pursued him in the dark. There
was Bill to be considered: he must not be left behind. But the first
thing was to rid himself of his bonds, and that would be no easy matter.
Lying still to think out his plan, he saw a chance. All was hushed, but
for the tempestuous snores. It was pitch dark. The guards lay together
near the entrance. With careful movements he rolled and edged and
wriggled across the floor until he knew that he was within a few inches
of the men. Then, groping with his bound wrists, he sought for a spear.
He touched it, grasped it, drew it gently towards him. It resisted: the
guard was lying half upon it. He pulled it again: the snoring ceased
with a sudden snap, and John thought it was all over. But there was a
grunt; the man turned heavily on his side; and the music began again.
The spear was now freed. By careful manoeuvring John got the head
between his knees, and holding it fast, began to saw the thongs that
bound his wrists. The weapon was sharp: the strands parted; he rubbed
the skin to relieve the smarting pain, and then, with two sharp cuts,
released his ankles.
He stood erect and listened. Only those horn-blasts at his feet. He
peered through the entrance. The darkness without was scarcely less
than within. Carefully, and with a shiver of apprehension, John stepped
over the two stretched forms, in nervous terror lest he should plant a
foot on one of them. He gained the entrance, glancing warily to right
and left, and stepped into the open, snuffing greedily at the cool air.
The village was asleep, calm as the stars twinkling overhead.
The tumble-down hut in which Bill lay was thirty yards nearer to the
gate. Four huts intervened. John crept round to the back of them and
stole along on tip-toe. He came to the fifth hut, which was separated
from the fourth by a passage a yard wide. Groping down this, he reached
the entrance, and after another look round, put his head within. All
was silent. Perhaps the Wanderobbo tribe did not snore! He called the
man's name softly.
"Bwana!" whispered Bill.
In a trice John was beside him. In ten seconds he had cut the ropes. In
twenty both were at the back of the hut. Now Bill took the lead. He
plunged into a banana plantation behind the line of huts, and made his
way swiftly towards the stockade. They came to the gate: it was
unguarded. Being merely a sort of strong hurdle of thorn, held in
position by a few logs, its removal was easy. They passed out, and
lifted the gate back to its former position, though, of course, they
were unable to fasten it. They then ran across the stretch of trodden
grass outside the village, down the hill towards the river.
Far to the left a lion roared, and John heard his companion utter the
strange gulping sound which in the negro indicates fright. A night
journey in these wilds was a perilous undertaking. They had one spear
between them, a paltry weapon if they should be pounced upon by some
beast of prey. There was just enough light from the stars to enable
them to choose the opener ground, avoiding bush and trees in which wild
beasts might lurk. They moved fast, for John had set his heart on
reaching the neighbourhood of the fort before dawn. There were few
able-bodied men left in the village, but these would turn out in the
morning as soon as the escape was discovered, and scour the surrounding
country. This was reason enough for haste, but there was another. If
they did not succeed in entering the fort before daylight, it would
probably be impossible until the following night. The attack in all
likelihood had not yet been made; the villagers would scarcely attempt
it after their long march; John's whole mind was set on standing by
Ferrier's side when the assault came.
On they went, running when the ground permitted. Every now and then
John had to stop for Bill's sake, the poor old man, weakened by terror
and hunger (John discovered afterwards that he had had no food all day),
being unequal to the pace. Presently, in descending too rapidly a sharp
declivity, John slipped and sprained himself. When he started again
every movement was painful. To go at any great speed was now
impossible. Still he pushed on, grudging every lost minute of the
night.
He could not tell what the time was; it was too dark to see his watch.
His pain grew worse at every step, and though he limped along gamely, he
had at length to confess himself done, and sank to the ground. His
distress of mind was as great as that of his body. Was he doomed to
fail? As he crouched miserably in the grass he heard the swirling of
the river close at his right hand. He would go to it and bathe his
aching legs. Bill expostulated: there were sure to be crocodiles; but
John would not be gainsaid. He dragged himself towards the river, and
sat down to rest on a small tree-trunk which had apparently been washed
ashore. In the faint light he saw others dotted about. An idea flashed
upon him. Could they make a raft? Bill had never heard of such a
thing: John did not know if there was a word for it. But he made him
understand that he was to collect some of the smaller logs, and then to
lash them together with strands of the creeping plants which grew in
abundance around. It was hard work and slow in the darkness, John
himself being unable to move freely; but at length something in the
semblance of a raft lay beside him. Rising with difficulty, he helped
Bill to carry it the few yards to the water; then, peering around for
crocodiles, which they would hardly have seen if any had lain there,
they launched the raft and managed to scramble on board, each carrying a
branch to steer with. The current was swift; there was no need for
paddling; and thus, perched precariously on their crazy craft, they
floated down the stream.
At times they heard movements on one bank or the other. Once they heard
the horrid snap of a crocodile's jaws. A little farther on the raft
bumped against something; there was a swirl of water, and John went hot
and cold at the suspicion that they had collided with a hippopotamus.
The current bore them past in safety, to his inexpressible relief; one
heave of the monster's body would have turned them over.
So they went on, how long John could not tell. The darkness seemed to
be lifting: from the banks came sounds of awakening life: where were
they? The river was flowing more swiftly; it was racing; and John
suddenly realized with a gasp that he had entered the rapids at the head
of the pool. With frantic movements of the paddles they tried to steer
into the bank; but the current was too much for them; the lumbering
craft was swept along at ever quickening speed; they were helpless.
Dropping their paddles--the spear was already gone--they held on for
dear life to the lashings. Some of them snapped: one of the outer logs
was wrenched away; the raft whirled round, and every moment John
expected it to break apart and hurl them into the race. Still he clung
on with convulsive grip. Bill was flat on his face with his hands over
the edge. On they went, jerked and jarred, until with startling
suddenness they were shot over a rock, and found themselves floating on
the pool.
The raft was almost in pieces, but it floated more slowly towards the
island. John's relief at finding himself and his companion yet alive
was dashed by a new anxiety. Dawn was glimmering in the sky. If they
were not rescued they would float through the pool to the longer and
even more dangerous series of rapids at the further end. They might be
seen by the enemy on the bank. He could not swim to the fort; his whole
body was stiff and racked with pain; his limbs would fail him. The raft
was drifting past the fort; very slowly, for it was no longer in the
middle of the current; but being without anything to serve as a paddle,
the two could do nothing to check its steady progress towards the lower
rapids. There was only one chance. He called to Bill to shout at the
top of his voice, and putting two fingers to his lips, he blew a shrill
whistle which no white man would fail to recognize. In a moment there
came an answering whistle from the fort. Dimly he saw figures at the
wall. He shouted: a cheery cry answered him: and in a few moments he
saw Ferrier and four men lug a canoe to the gate and put off to the
rescue.
But the whistle and the shouts had been heard by the enemy, who were
already astir. John could not yet see them, but he heard their yells,
and knew that they were swarming towards the pool.
"All right, old man, we've got the start of them," cried Ferrier, as the
canoe rapidly approached.
It was a race between the canoe and the current, between the rescuers
and the enemy. A shot rang out: a flight of arrows hissed into the
water. The raft was drifting within range of the enemy; but in the
half-darkness and against the background of wood on the shore the small
floating object offered but an indifferent mark. Had the day been even
a few minutes older the occupants of the raft would have stood a poor
chance against the arrows, to say nothing of the rifles, of the crowd
that could now be seen flitting like shadows round the margin of the
pool. The greatest source of alarm, however, was not the imperfect
shooting of the enemy, but the rapids to which the raft was drawing ever
nearer. Weakened as it was by its passage of the upper rapids, it was
inconceivable that it could survive the second and far more formidable
strain. The rush of the water could already be heard; the movement of
the raft was perceptibly quickening. Would Ferrier arrive in time? And
if he did overtake the raft, would he too not run a fearful risk of
being drawn into the stream and hurled along in utter helplessness? The
shouts from the shore redoubled in volume; arrows flew more and more
thickly; and John had almost yielded to despair when the canoe shot up
alongside at an amazing pace. Some one grasped the raft; the crew
backed water with all their might. Bill plunged into the water and
scrambled on board the canoe.
"I can't move; I've ricked myself," cried John. "You must lug me in."
Ferrier leant over, grasped him, and hauled him by main force into the
canoe. Then the four sturdy natives dug their paddles into the water.
The enemy had reached the brink; some were already on the causeway; but
at this moment four rifles flashed from the fort, and a man toppled off
the causeway into the pool. The others halted. The canoe sped on; a
bullet splashed in its wake; more arrows fell perilously near; but just
as the enemy had gained courage to rush over the causeway again, Ferrier
steered the canoe away from that side and guided it round to the lower
end of the island where landing was easier. The canoe scraped the
shore: its occupants sprang to land: and with Ferrier's aid the negroes
carried John up to the wall, where willing hands hoisted him over.
"A near shave, old chap," said Ferrier. "You look awfully done up."
"Pretty nearly crocked," said John, with a feeble smile. "Are those
beggars attacking?"
"No," replied Ferrier, looking over the wall. "They've gone back. It's
not light enough yet."
"Thank goodness! I'm no good at present; I'm----"
"Don't you worry," interrupted Ferrier, seeing his lips quivering. "Just
lie easy for a bit: I'll bring you something to eat."
John closed his eyes and shivered in his drenched clothes. Ferrier got
two of the men to carry him to the fire, and in a few moments gave him a
mug of soup.
"You'll feel better after that: hippo soup, my boy."
"They got back safely then?"
"Of course they did, an hour after sundown. They hid in the woods
yonder until the coast was clear. I gave them a good ragging for
leaving you."
"That wasn't fair; we left them."
"So they said. You may imagine what a funk I was in when they came back
without you. I didn't sleep a wink all night."
"Poor old chap! We went after congoni when they were cutting up the
hippo, and were rushed as neatly as possible, and carried off to the
village of Bill's 'bad men' in the hills. Our captors were evidently an
embassy from Juma to enlist the chief's assistance. Three or four
hundred warriors in full fig left yesterday morning: have you seen
anything of them?"
"Not yet. We heard a great hullabaloo in Juma's camp last night, and I
guessed the lot you signalled about had come in. I was glad you
signalled; it was a relief to know you were alive. I wished I could
come up and rescue you, and I'd have had a shot at it if you hadn't told
me the war-party were coming. Of course that dished it. I couldn't
have got through, and I'm afraid our fellows wouldn't have held out long
if I'd left them."
"Of course not. It would have been simply mad to try it."
"All the same, it was pretty rotten having to stop here able to do
nothing. I chafed a good deal, I can tell you. When I got your
message, as the enemy were very quiet I sent Coja and one of my askaris
out to see if they could spy out where you were; and what do you
think--Said Mohammed insisted on going too."
"Well, I'm hanged!"
"He said it was quite impossible for him to pursue the even tenor of his
way while you, his boss and patron, were in parlous circs. and durance
vile. I'm beginning to think the Bengali has been libelled; go deep
enough and you'll find a man. Anyway, he insisted on going, and I'm
sorry to say none of the three has come back."
John groaned from utter weariness and disappointment.
"What a mess I've made of everything!" he said. "If ever we get safely
out of this I'll not go rampaging after stolen rifles again. Look what
I've brought on everybody!"
"Utter rot! Nobody came against his will, and who could foresee all
this? We've had amazing luck really, and as for getting safely out of
it--but look here, old man, you mustn't shiver like that. I'm a
fat-headed chump. Off with your clothes; they're sopping. We haven't
got a change, but you won't shock any one's modesty. I'll rub you dry
with some of Said's cloths; your things will dry in no time, and I'll
try massage for your sprain. You'll take a good stiff dose of quinine,
too; we can't have an invalid on our hands."
John winced as he rose to strip. Ferrier got his clothes off, rubbed
him vigorously with cloths ("Shout when I hurt," he said), then rolled
him in a blanket and laid him down by the fire, "To sweat it out, you
know."
"Just go and look after Bill," said John, feeling comfortably lazy.
"Bill's all right, bless your heart! He's got no clothes to dry, and
he's tucking into roast hippo like one o'clock. It's the last of it, by
the way. It bucked the men up wonderfully. I wish we had some more."
"How do we stand for food?" asked John anxiously.
"Never you mind about food. You shall have your dinner when the time
comes. The best thing you can do is to go to sleep, and when you wake
you can tell me how you managed to escape from the 'bad men.' Are they
very bad, like the little girl who was horrid? No, you needn't answer;
just shut your eyes while I count ten, and you'll sleep like a top."
Two hours later, the man on guard at the gate, one of Ferrier's askaris,
reported that a number of men were marching across the plain towards the
causeway. Ferrier went to the gate, and saw that the group consisted of
two Swahilis and four of their followers. A great throng of black men
stood at the edge of the wood, giving no sign of an intention to move.
"A deputation, I presume," thought Ferrier. "Coming to offer us terms!"
The men advanced along the causeway, the Swahilis first. When they had
come half-way Ferrier told the askari at his side to order them to stop.
They came to a halt immediately.
"Ask 'em if one of them is Juma," said Ferrier.
No: one was Sadi ben Asmani, the other Jumbi ben Abdullah.
"Then you may tell Sadi ben Asmani and Jumbi ben Abdullah that I have
nothing to say to them, and they had better be off, sharp."
When this was interpreted the Swahilis glowered. One of them began to
speak, but Ferrier signed to him to be silent.
"Tell them I'll listen to the others, but won't hear a word from them."
The causeway being too narrow for two men to pass securely, the file
faced about and retreated to the shore. Then they came on again, the
negroes this time leading, and the Swahilis remaining at the end of the
causeway. The first negro, a finely proportioned fellow whom it was a
pleasure to look upon, began to address the white man, using his hands
freely.
"What does he say?" asked Ferrier.
The askari did not know his dialect. From the crowd of men who had
gathered at the wall one stepped forward saying that he knew it.
"Well, tell me what he says."
"Him say msungu come out: no lib for no more fight. Great big lot o'
black men: msungu no can run away."
"You can tell him that the msungu won't come out, and the black men had
better run away. They have come to fight us, who never did them any
harm. They have come to help a lot of thieves and murderers, who have
stolen the goods of the black men round about. This fort is where they
lived, and where they kept the goods they stole. The fort now belongs
to the msungu. A great many wasungu are now coming from their fort far
away to punish them, and when they come they will scatter them as the
lion scatters sheep. Tell them we are quite happy; we aren't a bit
afraid of them; we have beaten them twice, and we'll beat them again.
They had better take up their cook-pots and go home."
This little speech Ferrier delivered sentence by sentence, wondering how
much of it was fairly translated. The deputation clearly gathered the
gist of it, for with every sentence they became manifestly more
incensed. At the close they shouted and waved their arms, and then the
leader, with the air of one playing his trump card, cried out that the
msungu's talk was fool's talk, for they held a sheep-faced msungu a
prisoner in their village far away, and if their demand was not
instantly complied with, the sheep-faced msungu would be killed.
"By Jove!" thought Ferrier, "they didn't recognize old John then. What
a tremendous lark! I'll give them a shocker."
To the evident amazement of the natives he laughed heartily. Then,
bidding them stand where they were until he came back to them, he
returned into the fort.
"I say, John," he said, with a chuckle, shaking the sleeping form; "wake
up, old chap. There's a deputation outside summoning us to surrender,
and threatening if we don't to slaughter a sheep-faced
msungu--sheep-faced, old chap!--whom they've got penned up in their
village. Come and show yourself; I bet they'll look sheepish. It was
evidently too dark to see you when you came down on your raft. Slip
your things on: you don't look the same man in that blanket."
John laughed and slipped on his shirt and breeches, now thoroughly dry.
His sun-helmet, which had been fastened on by a strap, was rather pulpy,
but Ferrier clapped it on his head, saying that it didn't matter. In a
few seconds he had limped to the gate, and stood at Ferrier's side,
smiling very amiably.
The natives were struck dumb with astonishment. The Swahilis could not
have been more confounded if they had seen a ghost. After gazing for a
full minute at the msungu whom they imagined to be in safe custody
fifteen miles away, they turned round and marched back in silence, only
breaking into excited talk when they reached the shore. The two white
men stood watching them until they rejoined the vast throng gathered at
the edge of the wood.
"They've got something to digest," said Ferrier, with a laugh. "Now
we'll go and get some dinner."