"By George!" cried John, breathless, as he poled his raft up to
Ferrier's, "I don't think I could have faced it if I had known what to
expect."
"You did famously," said Ferrier, laughing. "I was afraid you'd come a
cropper on that rock. How are your men? Mine are positively sea-sick."
"I didn't give them a thought. They'll be all right now, at any rate.
Coja stuck to his job gamely, and so did Said Mohammed. We'll have to
do something for them when we get home."
"Do you think we have seen the last of Juma's lot now?"
"Surely they'll have had enough of it by this time?"
"But if your guess is correct, the fellow has missed the aim of his life
in losing the ivory. If I were in his place I'd certainly have another
try. The current is getting slower and slower; they could easily
outstrip us on the bank."
"That might be awkward for us. We don't know anything about the river a
few miles down-stream. There may be more rapids. And look: d'you see
men coming over the bluff behind us?"
"Yes, swarming like ants. Evidently they mean to chase us, and they'll
catch us in an hour at this rate. We had better try punting."
The rate of the current here was probably not more than two or two and a
half miles an hour. Vigorous poling increased the speed of the rafts
slightly, but they were too heavy to move above a walking pace. A bend
in the river hid the pursuers from view. When next seen they were
considerably nearer.
"We could get on faster if the men walked," said Ferrier. "Let us land
them on the right bank. The enemy appear to be all on the left, and we
can take them in again if they come to too close quarters."
The suggestion seemed a good one, and was quickly put in effect. The
men, who had had a fright and thorough drenching, were glad enough to
stretch their legs on dry land again, and the rafts, relieved of their
weight, responded more readily to the sturdy thrusts of the poles. Again
the enemy were hidden, but catching sight of them presently through the
trees, John cried--
"I say, they are cutting off to their left. The river makes another
bend, I suppose, and they're going to post themselves before we arrive."
"I only hope the bank isn't high," said Ferrier. "If it is they can
fire down on us, and the mischief is, we can't reply and attend to the
rafts as well. Hadn't we better chuck the ivory into the river and take
our own things and make a bolt for it?"
"Not I," said John. "I don't like the idea of skedaddling at all, and
I'm not going to lose the ivory now. That would bring Juma out on top,
and he could crow over us after all."
"There's a good deal of obstinacy in you, John," said Ferrier, smiling.
"We shall have to fight, and I shouldn't be surprised if our hottest
time is yet to come."
They went steadily down the river, the men keeping pace with them as
closely as possible, though the nature of the ground caused them
sometimes to leave the bank and march at a considerable distance from
it. For nearly two hours, as they guessed, they did not catch a single
glimpse of the enemy, and hoped that they had tired of the pursuit. But
presently they had reason to suspect that they were not to be allowed to
escape so easily. The river spread out into a kind of swamp, apparently
almost half-a-mile in breadth. About half that distance ahead it was
studded with small wooded islands, and Ferrier, who was still leading,
was puzzled as to which of the channels into which the stream was
divided was the safest to attempt. The enemy were not in sight, but
from somewhere ahead came the sound of chopping wood.
"What are they up to?" said John.
"Can't tell. Making a boma perhaps. Don't you think we had better take
the men on board before we get fairly into the swamp? If the enemy are
hidden on those islands we had better have them with us."
John hailed the marching men, who came at his call and were soon
ensconced on the rafts again. They punted along, looking ahead warily
for signs of the enemy. The current became more and more sluggish, and
there was at times scarcely enough water to float the rafts, now again
weighted by their passengers. Ferrier scanned the river in search of a
practicable channel. In the channels on the left he saw mud-banks
rising just above the surface. A wider channel to the right, about
twenty yards broad, gave the best promise of a safe passage, and towards
this he steered. While still some distance from it, however, he saw
some figures emerge from the wooded island on the left, wade hurriedly
across, and enter a similar wood on the right bank of the river, both
the island and the bank being here slightly above the level of the
water. The greater number of the waders were negroes, but among them
were the white-clad forms of Swahilis.
"This is nasty," said John. "We can't go back."
"Nor forward either, except at a snail's pace," said Ferrier. "Confound
it! We're stuck again. Look out, John: I'm on a mud-bank. Pull up till
I'm free."
By dint of energetic poling he managed to get his raft clear. John
avoided the obstacle by slightly changing his course.
"All we can do," he said, "is to push on as fast as we can and trust to
the breastwork. The worst of it is, the men can't defend themselves
without exposing their heads to the enemy's fire."
"Yes they can, if they make loopholes," replied Ferrier. "Set 'em to
cut some; we were idiots not to do it before."
The rafts were still about eighty yards from the island. Their course
was checked while the men hastily cut loopholes in the breastwork on
each side, at which they posted themselves with their weapons; then the
white men drove the rafts forward as swiftly as the shallow water
permitted. The enemy had again totally disappeared. But just as
Ferrier's raft entered the channel between the island and the bank,
there was a shout, and a boom of logs was drawn rapidly across,
completely blocking the passage. The sound of chopping was explained.
The moment he saw the obstruction, Ferrier strove to increase the speed
of the raft, in the hope of breaking through. There was a jolt and a
crash, but the boom held, and instantly with ferocious yells the enemy
on both sides let fly a shower of arrows mingled with a few rifle-shots
at the occupants of the raft. These, kneeling at the breastworks,
replied as well as they could through the loopholes; but they suffered
two disadvantages: while they were exposed to the missiles of the enemy
behind them, and on a higher level, the enemy themselves were concealed
among the trees and brushwood. Cries of pain proclaimed that several
had been hit, and Ferrier, turning for a moment to seize his rifle,
received an arrow in his right shoulder. In an instant he wrenched it
out: there was no time to think of wounds.
Meanwhile John had poled his raft somewhat to the left of the other, to
try in his turn to break through the boom. Like Ferrier, he failed. The
rafts were now ranged alongside, and John's men became exposed to the
deadly hail from the island.
"We must either cut the boom or run for it," he said, gaining what
shelter he could from the breastwork.
"Impossible!" returned Ferrier. "We've no axes. Knives are no good.
The logs are three deep. Any one who tried to cut the lashings would be
killed, to a certainty."
"I'll try and rush the island, then. You keep the others at bay."
"I'll do my best."
John ordered his men to lie down, and rapidly explained to them what he
meant to do. Then, with a few vigorous thrusts of his pole, he drove
the raft against the bank. As it touched, a bullet passed through his
helmet. He dropped his pole, seized a rifle with his left hand and a
revolver with his right, and calling to the men, leapt over the
breastwork on to the island. The men followed him with a yell, all but
Said Mohammed, whom he had ordered to remain and prevent the raft from
drifting away.
As they swarmed up the bank, they were met by a shower of missiles. Two
or three men fell; an arrow grazed John's cheek; but the suddenness of
the attack had taken the enemy by surprise. Those who had rifles had no
time to reload before their assailants were among them. Discharging his
revolver at the nearest man, John dashed straight forward, smiting left
and right with his clubbed rifle, the men hacking with their knives and
jabbing with their spears. The enemy had thought rather of obtaining
good cover from which to attack than of sustaining a hand-to-hand fight.
John's men, emboldened by his example, followed close upon his heels.
For a few moments a fierce scrimmage raged among the trees. Then the
enemy gave way, turned tail, and, rushing across the narrow island,
splashed through the shallow water that separated it from the next.
Here they stood and faced about, as if to show fight again; but when
they saw John and his little band springing after them they lost heart
and fled, racing over the second island and the channel dividing it from
the left bank of the river, and never halting until they gained firm
ground a hundred yards away.
Meanwhile John had become aware by the uproar behind him that a fierce
conflict was in progress there. He could not delay to see whether the
enemy he had put to flight would return, but rushed back to the
assistance of Ferrier. What he saw filled him with alarm and dismay.
The main body of the enemy, several hundreds strong, and led by Juma
himself, had swarmed out from the trees and shrubs among which they had
been concealed, and after discharging their weapons, were wading through
the river to attack Ferrier's raft. The channel was black with them,
yelling, brandishing spears and rifles, a few still shooting their
arrows as they plunged through the water. Some had run along the boom,
and at the moment when John returned were trying to leap over the
breastwork on to the raft. Some had come round on the other side and
were attempting to tear down the breastwork. Ferrier was laying about
him doughtily with his clubbed rifle; Coja at the further end of the
raft was doing the same; and the rest of the men were darting here and
there, striking the heads of the negroes in the river, or prodding with
their spears at those on the boom.
But the numbers of the enemy were so overwhelming that John feared that
nothing could now save the day. Said Mohammed in his agitation had
allowed his raft to drift away from the island into the stream, and a
rush was immediately made towards it. John sprang on to the boom, and
ran with all speed to Ferrier's help, his men close behind. Catching a
big negro by the throat, he hurled him off the boom into the water,
jumped the breastwork, and came to Ferrier's side just as he staggered
and fell with a spear wound in the thigh. The arrival of John's party
checked the assault for a moment, but meanwhile the enemy had clambered
into his raft, overthrowing Said Mohammed, and the current brought it
once more against the boom. The little party was now surrounded. One
after another fell. Two men, a Swahili and a negro, had at last broken
through the defence and gained a footing on Ferrier's raft. John felled
the Swahili with a sledge-hammer blow of his rifle; the negro was killed
with a thrust from Bill's knife. But while these first invaders were
thus disposed of, others had forced their way on to the raft, and before
John could recover himself, a spear was driven through his arm and he
was hustled to the deck.
There was a yell of triumph from the enemy. But all at once, above the
uproar there came the sharp crackle of rifles, followed by a ringing
cheer. Juma, who was at that moment in the act of springing from the
boom into the raft, halted for a second, and turned to discover the
origin of these new sounds. He saw, on the right bank of the river, not
two hundred yards away, a party of mounted white men, riding at a gallop
towards him. For an instant he hesitated. While his back was towards
the raft, Bill, with an agility amazing in a man of his years, leapt the
breastwork, knife in hand, and hurled himself upon the Swahili. Both
together, they fell into the river. Juma was undermost. For an instant
they disappeared beneath the surface. Bill never relaxed his grip.
When they emerged, he plunged his knife up to the haft in the Swahili's
throat; then flung his enemy from him. Juma was dead. So he expiated
the cruelties and tyrannies of many years, at the hands of a member of
the tribe which had suffered most wrong.
While this tragedy was being enacted, the riders came to the brink of
the stream, and ten rifles sped their bullets among the swarm of black
men. Again the air rang with a British cheer. With screams of pain,
yells of consternation and affright, the enemy broke and fled, some
towards the island, some scrambling up-stream, those who were in the
rafts plunging into the water and swimming in all directions. And John,
rising to his feet, beheld his father and Mr. Gillespie, and eight men
whom he did not recognize, and waving his rifle aloft with his uninjured
arm, he answered cheer with cheer.