about a hundred, made their appearance, and, led by Lualamba, advanced
to the tent, which they surrounded. Four grass hammocks, each of which
was stretched between two long bamboo poles, were then brought forward,
and, by the directions of the chief, the unconscious white men were
carefully lifted from their seats and deposited at full length in them.
The tent was then struck, and, with its simple furniture, taken in
charge by certain members of the band told off for the purpose, when
each of the hammocks, with its sleeping burden, was carefully raised
from the ground and shouldered by four savages, and, the remainder of
the warriors forming round them as an escort, the band took the trail to
the village, and marched rapidly away.
On reaching their destination the prisoners (for such they evidently
were) were carried to a new hut, which had all the appearance of having
been specially constructed for them, and, once inside, the poles of the
hammocks were carefully laid in the forked ends of upright posts, firmly
fixed in the ground, the whole forming a sufficiently comfortable bed.
Four young women then entered the building, and, taking their places,
one at the head of each sleeper, proceeded, with the aid of large
feather fans, to protect their helpless charges from the attacks of the
mosquitoes and other insect torments with which the village swarmed;
when the hammock-bearers filed out, and the white men were left to sleep
off, undisturbed, the effects of the potent drug which had been artfully
mingled with the milk with which their coffee had that day been
prepared.
The hut in which our four friends were thus left had been erected in a
spacious palisaded quadrangle which surrounded the king's palace, so
that M'Bongwele might, as it were, always have them under his own eye;
and the fact that, having got them into his power, the king was
determined, if possible, to keep them there, was made manifest by the
presence of a strong cordon of guards, who, on the passage of the
prisoners within the portal, immediately ranged themselves round the hut
outside. The hut was only some twelve feet square, and entirely open at
one end, the open end being, however, protected from the sun by a
continuation of the roof in the form of a broad verandah supported at
the eaves upon two stout verandah-posts; and round this diminutive
structure were ranged twenty picked men, facing inward, fully armed with
bow, spear, and shield; it was pretty evident, therefore, that, unless
the prisoners had the power to render themselves invisible, or of
paralysing their guards, there was little probability of their effecting
their escape.
The posting of the guard having been effected to Lualamba's
satisfaction, he entered the palace to make his report to the king, who
was anxiously expecting him. M'Bongwele listened attentively to all the
details of the capture, and, upon its completion, rose and, accompanied
by the chief, made his way to the hut, which he cautiously entered,
placing himself at the foot of each hammock in succession, and long and
anxiously regarding the countenances of the sleepers. He had been
successful in his bold enterprise beyond his most sanguine hopes; but it
was evident that even in the very moment of his triumph he was anxious
and disturbed in his mind. He trembled at the audacity which had led
him to pit himself against these extraordinary beings, and the very ease
with which he had accomplished his purpose frightened him. Had these
men--if men they were--been encountered and overcome awake, and in the
full possession of their senses, he would have been happy, for he would
then have felt that his own power was superior to theirs. But they had
been surprised whilst under the influence of a subtle and potent drug
prepared by the chief witch-doctor; and when they awoke and discovered
what had been done to them, what might not the consequence be? But what
was done was done; he had now gone too far to retreat; besides which,
his ambition overmastered his fears, and he determined to go on and risk
the consequences.
Having obtained possession of the persons of these formidable beings,
obviously the next thing would be to secure that wonderful thing which
they called a "ship;" and this M'Bongwele determined to do at once: who
knew but that its possession might give him a much-needed and decisive
power over its former owners? He accordingly retired from the prison
hut, and gave orders for the immediate assembling of all his available
cavalry; at the head of which he soon dashed off in the direction of the
ruins, leaving Lualamba in charge of the guard and of the prisoners, a
position of responsibility which that chief by no means coveted, and
which he accepted with much inward perturbation.
Proceeding at a gallop, the impatient M'Bongwele and his troopers soon
reached the _Flying Fish_, which they immediately surrounded. The king
then dismounting, and summoning some fifty of his most famous braves to
follow him, cautiously approached the ship, with the purpose of boarding
her. But the rope-ladder, by means of which he had on a former occasion
accomplished this feat, was no longer there; and, as he glanced upward
at the gleaming cylindrical sides of the towering structure, it began to
dawn upon him that the task he had undertaken was, after all, not
without its difficulties. Presently, however, a brilliant idea occurred
to him, and, selecting a dozen men, he gave them certain orders which
sent them scurrying off at a gallop. Half an hour later they returned,
dragging behind them two long stout bamboos and a considerable quantity
of tough pliant "monkey-rope" or creeper. With these materials the men,
under M'Bongwele's instructions, proceeded to construct a ladder, which,
when completed, they reared against the side of the ship; and by this
means the king and his fifty chosen warriors ascended and triumphantly
reached the deck.
M'Bongwele now regarded himself as completely successful; he had gained
possession of the wonderful structure; and all that remained was to make
use of it in a similar manner to that of its former owners. He
accordingly advanced pompously to the gangway, and ordered his troopers
to first remove the ladder from the ship's side, and then return to the
village with all speed, adding exultantly that he and those with him on
the "flying horse's back" would be there long before them.
Resolved to give the cavalcade a good start, he watched it disappear in
a cloud of dust among the ruins, and then, assuming his most commanding
attitude and manner, raised his right hand aloft and exclaimed:
"We will now return through the air to the village--keeping as close to
the ground as possible," he added with some trepidation as he nervously
grasped the guard rail in anticipation of the expected movement.
The ship, however, remained motionless. Something was evidently wrong,
but what it might be he could not imagine; surely he had not forgotten
or misunderstood the formula as stated to him by Lualamba? He now most
heartily wished that he had brought that trusty chief with him, and so
provided against all possibility of error; however, the omission could
not be helped, and he would try again, adopting a somewhat different
form of words. This time he stamped rather impatiently on the deck,
exclaiming:
"Take us back to the village, good flying horse, but gently, and not
very far above the ground."
Still no movement. The king began to look puzzled, and to feel as vexed
as he dared, with the consciousness weighing heavily upon him that he
was playing with frightfully keen edged tools. He did not know what to
make of this persistent immobility; it was uncanny, sinister,
portentous, almost appalling. He would try again. He _did_ try again,
not once but nearly a dozen times, varying the form of words, more or
less, every time; and, of course, with the same ill success. At length,
in chagrin and disgust, he gave up the attempt to move the ship, and
turned his attention to an examination of her interior. He advanced to
the pilot-house, complacently reflecting that here, at least, he could
not possibly be beaten; he had only to walk up to the door and enter.
But here, again, surprise and confusion awaited him; for, after _twice_
making the circuit of the building, he was unable to find a door; there
was no perceptible entrance anywhere excepting the circular windows,
which, however, were all open. Summoning his followers to his
assistance, he made them give him a "back;" and, scrambling up on their
shoulders, he at length contrived to raise himself to the level of these
openings and to look in. He saw a great many levers, and knobs, and
buttons, and short lengths of insulated wire; in fact, he got a glimpse
of pretty nearly all the apparatus contained in the pilothouse; but that
did not help him in the least, for he had not the most remote idea of
what all these things were for; and when he essayed an entrance by one
of the windows he was again foiled; it was much too small. At length,
after a great deal of ineffectual wriggling and struggling--which
occasioned serious inconvenience and anxiety to the human supports who
were with the utmost difficulty maintaining a state of very unstable
equilibrium beneath his feet--his patience completely failed him, and,
in a fit of childish anger and spite, he sent a series of truly blood-
curdling yells echoing into the interior of the pilot-house. These
cries were of course distinctly heard by George and the _chef_, but
(acting upon a concise code of instructions furnished to them when they
were first engaged for the voyage, and which provided for almost every
conceivable emergency), neither of these individuals condescended to
take any notice of them. Having thus given vent to a portion of his
spleen, king M'Bongwele, paying but scanty attention to the comfort or
dignity of his supporters, scrambled down from his elevated position to
the deck, and sat down to reflect upon the next steps to be taken. He
would gladly now have left the ship and made the best of his way back to
the village, even though the journey would have had to be performed on
foot; but the ladder had, by his own command, been removed, and his
retreat was thus effectually cut off, a drop of about forty feet from
the bottom of the metal accommodation ladder to the ground being a
something not to be thought of.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
THE HISTORY OF CERTAIN DISTRESSED DAMSELS.
Meanwhile Seketulo, the chief in command of king M'Bongwele's household
cavalry, returned to the village in due course, and lost no time in
dismissing his men, chuckling to himself as he reflected that, after
all, he had beaten his monarch in the race homeward.
Time passed on; the sun set; the evanescent twilight faded out of the
sky; the stars twinkled forth in all the mellow radiance characteristic
of the tropics; and still the adventurous M'Bongwele and his wondrous
prize came not. Hour after hour lagged slowly away; and at length the
expectant villagers, who had poured into the open air to witness the
triumphant arrival of the king, returned to their huts--their transient
enthusiasm overcome by their habitual apathy and indolence--and
surrendered themselves willingly enough to the blandishments of sleep.
All, with the exception, that is to say, of the guard detailed to watch
over the prisoners, the anxious Lualamba, and Seketulo. These were all
wakeful enough, the latter perhaps even more so than any of the others.
For, as the night waxed and the great full moon rolled slowly upward
into the sky, the powerful chief, who had won for himself the envied
position of commander of the king's cavalry (a position equivalent to
that of commander-in-chief of the whole army), felt the hope growing
within him that the foolhardy king and those with him had been carried
off to the nether regions for a permanency by the wondrous Thing of
which they had so audaciously sought to secure the possession. And in
that case (M'Bongwele being without sons, and having, in order to avoid
possible future complications, carefully slaughtered all his brothers
and other relations on his accession to the throne) there would be a
vacancy in that particular country for a king, which vacancy Seketulo
believed himself powerful enough to secure and fill.
Giving free rein to these ambitious ideas and aspirations, the chief
paced thoughtfully to and fro in a retired corner of the village until
about ten o'clock that night, when his impatience could no longer be
curbed, and he felt that he _must_ sally forth to ascertain, if
possible, the fate of M'Bongwele and his party. Accordingly, mounting
his horse, he took his way out of the village, passing through the
principal gateway, and heading for the ruins at a gallop. He was
greatly disconcerted, on reaching his destination, to discover that the
_Flying Fish_ still peacefully reposed in her usual berth; and his
disgust was supreme when he further noticed, crouched on her lofty deck,
a disconsolate-looking group, which his fears only too truly assured him
must be the king and his companions. His first impulse was to retire
and leave them to their merited fate; but the unwelcome reflection
suggesting itself to him that they might possibly be discovered and
rescued in the morning, he altered his purpose, and, making a virtue of
what was almost a necessity, advanced with the intention of proffering a
respectful inquiry as to whether any unfortunate accident had delayed
the royal return. He was, however, forestalled by the king and his
party, who, the instant they saw him, hailed his appearance with joyous
shouts and an almost piteous entreaty to him to replace the ladder.
This he, still making a virtue of necessity, at once attempted to do;
but the clumsy construction proved too much for his strength. A happy
idea, however, now flashed through the mind of one of the party; and,
unstringing their bows, they joined the strings together into one
continuous line, which, luckily for them, reached the ground; and
Seketulo bending the lower end on to the ladder, the latter was soon, by
the exertions of all hands, reared into position. The party, thoroughly
crestfallen, now lost no time in making their way to the ground, when
M'Bongwele at once requisitioned Seketulo's horse, and galloped off
homeward at top speed, the chief and the rest of the party being left to
plod back to the village at their leisure and as best they could.
Notwithstanding this most dismal failure, M'Bongwele still entertained
hopes of being able to possess himself of the coveted ship; and early
next morning every available man and woman was marched to the scene of
the preceding day's discomfiture to attempt the task of _carrying the
Flying Fish to the village_! This attempt, it is scarcely necessary to
say, also resulted in complete failure, and with this failure king
M'Bongwele was at last compelled to recognise himself as beaten. It
became clear to him that the mysterious beings whose persons he had so
rashly seized possessed certain peculiar and wonderful powers; and the
only course now open to him seemed to be to make the best terms he could
with them for their co-operation in the furtherance of his schemes. And
he felt heartily glad--pluming himself at the same time upon his
prudence--that he had not taken advantage of their seemingly helpless
condition, when brought to the village, to attempt the putting of a
period to their existence.
Meanwhile, Seketulo, though greatly chagrined at the turn of affairs, by
no means abandoned hope. He felt that though disappointment had for
once overtaken him, it by no means followed that such would always be
the case; and if his ambitious dreams could not be realised in one way,
they still might be in another. The king, unfortunately, had not been
carried off to perdition; but, figuratively speaking, that seemed to be
his ultimate and speedy destination. For, had he not pitted his own
power against that of the mysterious strangers, and lost the game? He
had inflicted a most grievous outrage upon them, and had ineffectually
attempted to seize their wonderful ship; yet not a particle of gain or
advantage of any description had been secured, and the wrath of these
strangers had yet to be faced; the penalty of his audacious deeds had
yet to be paid. Did not all this point to M'Bongwele's speedy downfall?
And if such a state of things should happily be in the near future,
would it not be worth his (Seketulo's) while to approach the strangers
in a friendly spirit and (after cautiously feeling his way) with offers
of assistance? He decided that it undoubtedly would, and that he would
forthwith adopt that line of policy, cautiously, yet without losing a
single favourable opportunity.
So far as M'Bongwele was concerned, he found himself in a greater strait
than ever. He had not only failed completely in his ambitious schemes,
but he had also lost prestige with his own people and had made enemies
of the strangers. His situation was distinctly worse than if he had
done nothing at all; and how to make his way out of the imbroglio he
knew not, nor could any of his ministers advise anything. He now
fervently wished he had adopted other and more friendly measures with
his visitors; but it was too late; he fully recognised that, with the
odium of failure fresh upon him, any attempt at conciliation would be
utterly hopeless; the only course still open to him appearing to be that
of "masterly inactivity." This would, at all events, leave time for
events to shape themselves, and afford him an opportunity of regulating
his conduct in accordance therewith; and this course he accordingly
determined to pursue; at the same time issuing the most imperative
orders that the prisoners were to be treated with the utmost courtesy
and consideration consistent with their safe-keeping.
In accordance with these orders, the prisoners found that, after the
second day of their seizure, they had very little of which to complain
beyond the actual loss of their liberty. They were abundantly supplied
with provisions of all kinds within the resources of the village; the
four young women originally detailed to watch over them during their
drugged slumber were permanently appointed to attend upon them, do their
cooking, keep their hut clean, and so on; and they were allowed to take
unrestricted exercise within the bounds of the compound. Their
attendants and guards were allowed to answer any questions except such
as related to the king's recent attempt to possess himself of their
property; and hints were freely offered to the effect that M'Bongwele
was most anxious to secure their friendship, and would gladly afford
them an audience whenever they might desire it. But they had no
intention whatever of seeking an audience with the king; they had a very
shrewd suspicion of what had actually taken place; and having by this
time formed a tolerably accurate estimate of the royal character, they
felt convinced that their only chance of advantageously dealing with
M'Bongwele lay in forcing upon _him_ the character of a suitor to
_them_.
Thus matters stood for nearly a fortnight from the date of their
seizure--Seketulo doing his best to effectually ingratiate himself in
the strangers' favour before venturing to tender his proposed offer of
assistance; and M'Bongwele waiting with daily growing impatience for
overtures from his prisoners--when an event occurred which, simple
though it seemed at the moment, was destined to have an important
bearing on the fortunes of certain other white prisoners then in the
king's power.
It happened thus. The quartette were sitting under the verandah of
their hut one morning, whining away the very last remains of their
carefully hoarded stock of tobacco, when a soft thud, followed by a low
startled cry of pain and terror from one of their female attendants
caused them to glance hastily round. The sight which then met their
eyes was startling enough to make them spring instantly to their feet.
A snake fully seven feet long, and of the most deadly venomous kind
(which had evidently just dropped out of the thatch of the hut), had
flung its coils round the bare leg of one of the women, and, before help
could be rendered, had struck its fangs deep into the flesh. The cruel
heart-shaped head, with its wicked eyes glowing like a couple of
carbuncles, was already drawn back to repeat the stroke when Lethbridge
sprang forward, and, seizing a small pliant rattan which happened to be
handy at the moment, dealt the reptile a swift downward cut across the
body, dividing the creature almost in two; following up the blow by a
rapid dart of his hand, grasping the reptile by the neck and tearing the
quivering coils away from the wounded limb. Another second, and the
head was being fiercely ground into the dust under the thick solid
leather of his boot-heel, the wounded body twisting and writhing in the
most horrible contortions meanwhile.
Two out of Lethbridge's three companions stood helplessly aghast whilst
this tragedy was in progress; but the professor, ever alert in the
interests of science, promptly compelled the wounded girl to lie down,
and instantly applied his lips to the wound made by the poisonous fangs
of the snake, sucking vigorously until he had induced as copious a flow
of blood as could reasonably be expected from the two tiny punctures.
Then, fumbling in his waistcoat pocket, he drew forth a small stick of
lunar caustic (with which he had some time previously provided himself
in anticipation of possible snake-bites) and effectually cauterised the
wound. The result of which prompt treatment was that the girl, after
enduring some three hours' slight suffering and inconvenience from the
pain and subsequent swelling of the wound, recovered, and in a day or
two was as well again as ever.