Arms and the Man
A Deputation--An Unexpected Honour--Msala Improves the Occasion--The
Political Situation--First Steps--A Problem--Prospecting for
Sulphur--Herr Schwab on His Travels--Made in Germany
The chief was buried at nightfall. A long framework of banana-stalks
was constructed, on which his body was placed. It was then covered with
several layers of bark-cloth provided by his wives, who had smeared
their faces with kaolin, and taken off their necklaces, armlets, and
other articles of adornment, exhibiting, besides these outward signs of
mourning, a very real grief. Tom had a vague idea that at a chief’s
death his wives were slain and buried with him, and was greatly relieved
to find that this was not the custom among the Bahima. A deep hole was
dug beneath the hut, and there, after the recital of a sort of liturgy
by the medicine-man, who had emerged from his retirement into a position
of some importance again, Barega was consigned to his last home amid
wailing and lamentation.
Returning sadly to his hut, Tom lay awake thinking of many things. His
task, he supposed, was now done. The villagers would elect another
chief, and things would go on as before. He himself would be free to
return to his own kind and kin, whose interests he resolved to enlist on
behalf of the people.
"And surely the Free State officials ought to look after them," he
thought. "I suppose they are too remote to have done anything hitherto.
I wonder whether Uncle Jack could get me some work under their
government, so that I could do something systematically towards the
freeing of the slaves? Englishmen have been thus employed, I know.
There was Captain Hinde, and Captain Burrows; I am sure I have read
something about their work. I’d rather be in the service of our own
Government, of course, but I suppose there’s no chance of that whatever.
Well, it isn’t much use speculating after all. I don’t want to go back
to Glasgow if I can help it, though, if I am to be an engineer, I
suppose I couldn’t learn my trade better anywhere else. I wonder who
their new chief will be, by the by? Murasi is, of course, out of the
question, and Mwonga, the other brother, is at present too young, though
he’s a fine, handsome, intelligent lad, and will turn out well some day.
The katikiro--really I am quite fond of that amusing old boy--is all
very well in a fight, but he hasn’t a particle of moral courage, and I’m
afraid, if it came to a tussle between him and the medicine-man, he’d be
nowhere. Well, they must fight it out among themselves."
Next morning, before he was up, Mbutu came to him in a state of
considerable excitement.
"Sah," he said, "katikiro outside; kasegara outside; all big men
outside; want see sah, bad want."
"Do they, indeed? Well, Mbutu, tell them I’ll be out in a minute or
two. I suppose they’ll proceed to elect a new chief to-day," he
resumed, when Mbutu returned.
"No, sah, no chief yet; wait one moon; great big cry fust."
"Dear me! I shouldn’t have thought there’d be official mourning in
savage Africa! So they keep it up for a month, eh?"
"Yes, sah. Brudders, sons, cousins, all people come drink museru, sah;
knock big drum, little drum; sing, dance all night, sah; den make new
chief."
"I should like to see that; but we can’t wait a month; we must be off
back to the Nyanza in a day or two."
All this time Tom had been taking his morning tub and donning his
clothes.
"Don’t believe Uncle Jack would know me from a chimpanzee," he said with
a laugh. "What with this wretched down upon my cheeks, and my long
mane, and my patched old toggery, I’m more like one of those begging
fakirs in India he has told me about than anything else I ever heard of.
Well, now to see what my friend Msala wants."
He went out of the hut. The katikiro, the kasegara, and all the other
leading men of the village were grouped with Mwonga, the chief’s younger
brother, in their midst, shifting from one foot to the other in a sort
of nervous excitement. The instant they saw Tom they threw themselves
flat on their faces in a line, and began to crawl towards him.
"What on earth’s the meaning of this?" ejaculated Tom, aghast. "And
what are you grinning at?" he added, turning to Mbutu, whose face was
beaming with delight.
"Neyanzi-gé! Neyanzi-gé!" cried Mbutu, clapping his hands. "I praise
too much, sah. I fank too much."
"For goodness sake tell them to get up and behave as reasonable
creatures. That’s the sort of thing they do to their fetishes; I’m not
a fetish. ’Pon my word, it’s too silly even to laugh at. Up, Msala;
don’t grovel there. Confound you, leave my knees alone," he added, under
his breath, for the katikiro had crawled up to him and clasped his
knees.
Mbutu made the crawlers understand that Kuboko would be seriously
annoyed if they did not stand on their feet, and they got up, one by
one, with manifest reluctance.
"Now," said Tom, "just explain in a sensible way what all this
performance means."
The katikiro looked at his companions as though asking their permission
to speak; then, leading Mwonga by the hand, he stepped forward.
"O Kuboko," he said, "Barega is dead, a chief brave as a lion, mighty in
war, a great hunter, a fearless slayer of elephants. Now we, his
people, have no chief; we have lost our father and mother; we have none
to lead us in fight or guide us in peace, none to judge us or to do us
right. Murasi is unstable as water; he is at this moment mingling his
tears with museru. Mwonga here is but a boy; brave--let no man say he
is not brave,--but many moons must pass before he can slay elephants and
rule men like his brother Barega. Know, O Kuboko, that by the custom of
the Bahima we should wait a long moon before we choose our chief; the
days of mourning are not yet over; the fresh museru is not brewed. But
we dare not wait. The Arabs are gone, those that were left of them;
thou, O Kuboko, knowest why and how they went; but they will come again;
they will bring their friends in number as the seed of millet, and will
fight against us, and what can we do against them without a chief? Why
will they come? They will come because they must. If they submit like
dogs to a whipping, will they not be dogs for ever-more? What black man
will fear them? They will be mocked at, flouted, kicked and spurned;
the black man will hunt them. They must come back to prove that they
are lions and no dogs. And when they come, what are we, O Kuboko? We
have no fire-sticks; we have no strong magic; our medicine-man is but
hollow, a tinkler like his own bell. What are we without thee, O
Kuboko? Who was it dug the ditch around our village? Who was it made
the fireballs? Who built the wonderful thrower that flung stones a
thousand miles? Who made the water run like a water-spout from the sky,
and saved us and ours from death and chains? Thou it was, O Kuboko;
thou didst these things, and more. Barega, yes, Barega was a great
chief, and thou, O Kuboko, thou didst save even Barega. Thou art
mightier than Barega and ten thousand other chiefs; thou alone canst
defend us against the mighty host soon to come upon us; thou hast the
magic of the white men, the strong arm of all the children of the Great
White King. Thou, O Kuboko, art our chief. We all say it. We have
talked; we have spoken to the spirits of our fathers and our fathers’
fathers, and they all say Kuboko is our chief."
"It’s very kind of you, Msala, and you’ve said uncommonly nice things
about me, but it can’t be, my friend. I am really deeply touched by
your confidence, but I feel that I ought to lose no time now in
rejoining my own people. You are mourning your dead chief, and my
friends, you must remember, are mourning me, no doubt, as dead."
Kuboko need not think of that, said the katikiro eagerly; messengers
should be despatched at once to the ends of the earth to explain. If he
would not be their chief, would he not at least stay with them for a
short time? Surely he would not desert them in their need--before he
had taught them the way to fight the Arabs.
"Do you really think the Arabs will come back?"
Yes, there was no doubt of it; and in their fastnesses, far beyond the
forest, they numbered thousands upon thousands of men. The Bahima were
grateful for what Kuboko had already done for them, but what good was it
all if they were left to be the prey of a still more numerous host,
thirsting for revenge?
Tom mused. It was a case for serious thought. Could he leave them to
face the Arabs without his help? It seemed a breach of faith, a
desertion. For he felt in his heart that they were right, that the
Arabs would certainly return to exact a terrible vengeance, and that
without the stimulus of his leadership the Bahima would infallibly be
crushed. Tom was the last person to overestimate his value, but he saw
clearly that although there was plenty of courage among the Bahima, and
a great fund of the qualities that make for self-sacrifice, there was
little military aptitude of the higher sort. They would have little or
no chance against such practised campaigners as the Arabs and their
allies. Yet who was he to match himself against the Arabs? He had had
little military training; he was intended for a civilian career; would
it not be presumptuous in him to suppose that, if the Arabs returned in
their might, he could, with such rough material as he had alone at his
disposal, attempt to cope with them? Then he remembered that for
generations past he had soldiers among his ancestors; was it some
hereditary bent that accounted for his success in the village hitherto?
He had been successful. Why should he not be successful again? Why
should he not use the powers he had in a service with which his
countrymen had so long been identified? In any case--and this clinched
his resolve--the Bahima with him would more nearly match the Arabs than
without him. Was it not then his duty to remain?
He stood for some moments longer looking across the village at the
distant horizon, tapping his foot on the ground, wondering, thinking.
The silent negroes watched him anxiously; Mbutu’s eager eyes were
riveted to his master’s face.
"Msala," he said at length, "I will stay. Wait," he added, hushing them
with his hand as they began to shout in the fulness of their delight, "I
will stay on two conditions. The first is: That I simply hold office in
the name of Mwonga here, who will be your chief when I am gone."
("Ntugamba! We say it," cried the men.) "The second is: That when I
consider your village safe from attack I must be free to give up my
power, and return to my own people." ("Ntugamba! ntugamba!") "On those
conditions I will stay with you, and, with God’s help, we will strike
such a blow at your enemies as shall destroy their power once and for
ever."
The gravity of Tom’s tone impressed the Bahima; even the voluble
katikiro’s voice was silenced. Tom went on:
"In Mwonga’s name, then, I ask you to retain your offices. Mwonga, my
friend, I will be your brother as I was Barega’s, and I will do my best
to uphold your dignity as chief. But I must have a free hand. I am
older than you; I have seen more than you. You know what I have been
able to do for your people, and you must make them understand that all
that I do is done in your name, and for their good. Is it well?"
"It is well," cried the negroes.
"Then you will see, Msala, that things are done in due form. You know
all about that; I leave it with you."
The shouts of the officials had drawn a great crowd of villagers around,
who stood at a respectful distance, looking with intense curiosity and
interest at the scene. When the interview had closed with the usual
ceremonial grunts, the katikiro, swelling with a new importance, turned
and made an oration to the crowd. Hearing that Kuboko was to remain as
regent, they skipped and pranced about like mad things, striking up a
chorus, "Okubokokuru omwami! Okubokokuru omwami!" (Strong i’ th’ arm is
chief), which they repeated, men, women, and children, a thousand times
over, with an enthusiasm at which Tom could not help being touched.
That was a field-day for the katikiro! He went about his work with a
zest that showed how thoroughly he enjoyed himself. Funeral rites and
the inauguration of a new chief on the same day made a novel experience
for him, and he meant to drink the fullest possible delight. The
funeral proceedings were despatched first. The whole population
assembled in a triple ring, and large pots of museru were passed round.
All the drums in the village were carried into the centre and grouped
about the great king-drum--a huge thing of tapering wood, nearly as high
as a man, decorated with fetish-grass and intricate designs, the
drum-head secured by stout thongs of ox-hide. A dancing party of
warriors, with shields, spears, and full war-paint, marched into the
ring, and, the katikiro giving the word, the chief drummer banged his
drum and began a solo:
"Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
Kanwete nga imamba bweyaweta"
(Let me plunge like a lung-fish when it plunges)
"Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!"
At the same time the warriors began a slow dance, going round in a
circle, and then the lugubrious strain was taken up and repeated in
chorus by the whole assembly:
"Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!
Kanwete nga imamba bweyaweta
Ah! ah! ah! ah! ah! ah!"
All the drums joined in the fray, the dance quickened, the warriors
sprang up several feet in the air, and all the time the pots of museru
went round. Tom was sorry to see that his leading officials were
becoming intoxicated, and perceived that one of his tasks would be to
inculcate habits of sobriety; at present he felt that he could hardly
interfere with a good grace. After this had gone on for some time, the
katikiro, more sober than the rest of the magnates, put a stop to the
funeral dance, and announced the ceremonial election of a chief. No
time was lost in this, the programme being cut and dried. Mwonga was
hailed by acclamation, and took his place on a mat of bark-cloth, where
he received the obeisance of all the principal men in turn. Tom thought
it well to set a good example, and greeted the chief with
specially-marked respect. Then he had to take his place beside Mwonga,
and as the people came up in a long line the katikiro introduced him:
"This is your brother; this is your friend; this is Okubokokuru; this is
the man of big medicine," and so on, reciting a tremendous list of the
new regent’s virtues.
When he had ended, rather for want of breath than lack of matter, the
whole company sat down to smoke the ceremonial pipe. A long
banana-stalk, with large ivory bowl filled with native tobacco, was
handed to the new chief. Tom wondered if every individual was to smoke
the pipe through, in which case the ceremony would have lasted a month.
But he soon saw that that would have been too laborious and painful an
operation. Mwonga lit the tobacco at a glowing brazier, took a few
puffs, and passed it to Tom, who, after copying him, handed it to the
katikiro. Tom found it hard to retain his gravity as he watched the
spectacle. Every man was evidently on his mettle; when his turn came he
expanded his lungs with surprising vigour to their greatest extent, and
filled mouth, nose, and eyes with the powerful fumes till he coughed
violently and the tears ran down his cheeks. His neighbour eagerly held
out both hands to receive the pipe, anxious to lose none of his share,
and followed the example. The solemn look on their impassive faces, as
though they were performing some awful and mysterious rite, quite
overcame Tom, who joined in the chorus of coughing in order to smother
his laughter. When the smoking was finished, torches were lit, a new
dance was begun; flutes piped, lyres jangled, drums were thumped, and
the revelry was kept up far into the night.
Everyone wore a more or less dejected look next morning, and Tom took
the opportunity to walk about the neighbourhood, attended by Mbutu, for
the sake of having what he called a "good solid think". Now that he had
definitely cast in his lot for a time with the Bahima, he was not
inclined to let the grass grow under his feet. First of all he reviewed
the situation. He saw no reason to doubt the people’s conviction that
the Arabs would return in great strength. He had but a small force of
fighting-men under his control, quite inadequate to cope with even such
a force as had met his uncle. From all accounts he might expect to have
to deal with a host of some eight hundred Arabs, armed with rifles--not
the surest of marksmen, perhaps, but formidable by reason of the moral
effect of firearms, at any rate. In addition, there were probably
thousands of irregulars with them, man for man, no doubt, equal in
quality to his own troops. Against this huge number what availed his
five or six hundred?
He thought of making an appeal to the Free State authorities, whose
interest it must surely be to stamp out the Arab pests. But Boma, their
capital, and, indeed, all of their regular stations, were so far away
that months must pass before a properly-equipped force could reach him,
even if the authorities cared to undertake the campaign. When he left
England the papers were full of references to the financial difficulties
of the Congo Free State, which, if all that rumour said was true, did
not possess the means to cope with the small risings that constantly
recurred in different parts of the country.
The Arabs, for their part, as Tom learnt afterwards, were careful not to
fall foul of the Free State authorities unless they were directly
attacked, as in the case of the ill-fated column cut up by Tom’s captors
months before. They had already suffered severely, and knew that they
existed in a measure on sufferance; for which reason they now confined
their depredations to remote districts in which the supremacy of the
Free State was merely nominal, and where they were comparatively safe
from molestation. News of their nefarious raids did indeed filter
through to Europe, but merely as intertribal fights. The Free State
officials were probably in no uncertainty as to the real nature of these
events, but inasmuch as the Arabs were the means of forwarding a
considerable quantity of ivory and rubber to the trading centres, their
methods were not too deeply investigated, if they were not actually
winked at.
All this Tom only learnt in course of time; but he knew and suspected
enough already to be convinced that the only hope of dealing a
successful blow at the raiders lay in using the material ready to hand.
Mwonga’s people were too few in number to cope with the Arabs unaided;
but there must be many villages in the surrounding country whose
interests lay in making common cause against the common enemy. Here
another difficulty faced him at once. As had been shown by the reply
given to one of the messengers sent out during the siege, a combination
of African chiefs was no easy thing to effect. They were all jealous of
one another; suspicious of being led into a trap; unwilling to put
themselves at the orders of any one chief in supreme command. Yet no
other course would meet the case, and Tom resolved to make the attempt,
hoping that a European, who had already won their respect, might succeed
where an African would almost certainly fail. The news of Barega’s
great victory, and the fame of his own share in it, would spread, within
a few days, far and wide through the country; indeed, the contingents
which had come into the village for protection were already beginning to
scatter to their several homes. "A few days for the leaven to work,"
thought Tom, "and then I’ll send out messengers to several of the chiefs
within thirty miles, asking them to attend a grand palaver with me. And
as I suppose they’ll be madly jealous if I ask them outright to come
into this village, we shall have to fix on neutral ground for the
meeting. I’ll go and consult my friend the katikiro."
Msala cordially agreed with the plan proposed, and messengers were at
once selected for the mission. Four of the neighbouring chiefs were
invited to repair, on the eighth day, to a hill some five miles distant
from Mwonga’s village, each bringing seven of his principal men, there
to meet Kuboko, as representing Mwonga, with an equal number. At the
same time two runners, in accordance with Msala’s promise, were sent
eastwards, to make the best of their way towards the Nyanza, and to
inform any white men they might meet of the presence of Kuboko in their
village. Tom found it quite impossible to get them to pronounce his
name, and there was not a scrap of paper in the place; but he worked his
surname on a piece of linen, with the aid of clumsy wooden needles
borrowed from one of Barega’s widows, and gave that to one of the
couriers.
Having a week to spend before the grand palaver, Tom, with his usual
energy, adopted measures to improve the military efficiency of the
force. This he knew would be a matter of time and patience, and it was
important to begin at once. His first care, naturally, was to
strengthen their _moral_. He singled out the men who had distinguished
themselves in the recent fighting, and had also shown general evidence
of intelligence and aptitude, and these he placed in command of
companies of a hundred men each. He selected a hundred to act as a
body-guard to himself and the chief, and six of them, in addition to the
katikiro, formed a sort of staff. There was great eagerness among the
warriors to be enrolled among this special corps, and Tom decided to
make enrolment in it a reward for good service. He drilled the men with
particular care, and was gratified by the readiness with which they
obeyed him, the exact attention they paid to all his instructions, and
the quickness they showed in carrying them out.
On the second day after the defeat of the Arabs, Tom ordered the rescued
slaves to be paraded before him, and offered them the alternatives of
immediate freedom, in which case they would have to shift for
themselves, and enrolment in the military force. They were delighted at
the chance of fighting their late masters, and nine-tenths of them
joyfully accepted the offer of service. A man who has been a slave,
indeed, is usually very loth to accept absolute freedom, for he has
become so accustomed to dependence as to lose all will-power, and the
loss of a master means the loss of the means of living. The slaves were
a very mixed lot, almost every tribe for a hundred miles round being
represented among them--tall men and short men, cannibals and
vegetarians; but Tom hoped that a little regular training and the memory
of their past sufferings would induce a kind of _esprit de corps_, and
that in course of time they would prove a useful addition to the force.
He had to contend with symptoms of jealousy and dislike among his own
people, but by combined tact and firmness he succeeded in preventing any
serious squabbles.
In Barega’s time private quarrels among the people had been settled with
the knife, and public offences purged by means of various ordeals
invented by the medicine-man. To put a stop to such rough-and-ready
methods, Tom appointed a court, consisting of the chief officials and
himself, to hear complaints and try cases, meeting three times a week in
the compound of his hut. The African is very ready to experiment, and
is especially delighted with anything in the way of ceremonial where he
has a chance to exhibit his oratorical power. He is also quick to
appreciate true justice, so that Tom found his court a success, if
somewhat trying to his patience because of its long-windedness.
Mabruki, however, deeply resented his deposition from the office of lord
chief-justice, and added this to the heavy grudge he already bore
Kuboko.
With five hundred and fifty warriors and about two hundred and fifty
freed slaves, Tom found himself in command of an effective force of
eight hundred men, excluding boys under sixteen, who were drafted into a
cadet corps, the nucleus of which already existed in the late chief’s
mutuma or "boys’ brigade". Four hours every day were devoted to
teaching the troops the elements of drill--just sufficient to give them
cohesion and enable them to perform the simpler evolutions. Two hours
were given to special drill--the throwing up of breastworks, for
instance, for protection from rifle fire. It was, he thought, his
special good fortune that the sergeant-major who instructed the cadet
corps at school had taken the keenest interest in his profession, and
had given the cadets under his charge a real liking for their work. Tom
saw that only by superior discipline could he hope to counterbalance the
superior armament and greater numbers of the Arabs.
From the outset he had to face a difficulty in the want of firearms and
ammunition. As a result of their recent victory the Bahima had become
possessors of some two hundred rifles and muskets; but even with these
they would make but a poor show against the hundreds of well-armed Arabs
whom they might have to encounter. Besides, the ammunition recovered
from the water was insignificant. There were a few unspoilt kegs of
powder, and a few cases of cartridges for the rifles, but they were
barely sufficient to provide eighty rounds a man. Further, as only a
few of his troops had ever handled a gun of any kind, there would
scarcely be more than enough ammunition to give the learners sufficient
musketry practice. Tom was appalled, when he began to instruct them, at
the waste due to their timidity, and to their tendency to use their
weapons as playthings. Yet, with two hundred serviceable weapons, it
seemed a pity that they should be useless, and he wondered whether by
some means or other a further supply of at least powder might not be
obtained.
On the third day after the despatch of the messengers, it occurred to
him that it might be possible to manufacture some powder. From his
earliest years he had been fond of "messing", as unappreciative seniors
put it, from the making of toffee to the more or less successful
manufacture of fireworks. He had picked up at odd times also, owing to
this scientific curiosity, a certain working acquaintance with various
industrial processes not directly connected with marine engineering, and
knew that the constituents of gunpowder may be easily prepared from the
raw material. But there was the rub; the absence of any one of the
constituents would render the others useless. In the Congo Forest, with
its hundreds of thousands of square miles of dense woodland, extending
over a space as large as France and Spain together, there would be no
lack of wood for charcoal; saltpetre he had found in considerable
quantities within a mile from the village; but in addition to these a
supply of sulphur was needed, and where was he to look for that?
While thinking over the problem he remembered that during his illness he
had been entertained by the katikiro with a long story of a malignant
spirit inhabiting a certain mountain some six hours’ march to the
south-east of the village. As a boy the katikiro could remember this
terrible being bursting forth in a large sheet of flame from the bowels
of the mountain, with a horrible rumbling sound that shook the solid
earth for miles around, casting immense rocks miles up into the air,
engulfing the surrounding country in a cloud of smoke and fire, and
turning the streams into rivers of boiling mud. Many villages with all
their inhabitants had been utterly destroyed; even in Barega’s the
shower of cinders from the sky set fire to several of the huts. For
years afterwards the mountain gave off dense clouds of smoke; but these
gradually ceased, and the evil spirit had since then been quiet.
Nevertheless nobody from Barega’s or any of the neighbouring villages
had ventured to approach the mountain since these fearful happenings.
Remembering this, Tom guessed that the scene of this eruption, which was
apparently an isolated peak, was connected with the great Central
African volcanic system extending from Lake Kivu to the Semliki. On his
march from Lake Mazingo on the track of his uncle’s expedition he had
passed over ground that was evidently of volcanic origin; and he
surmised that this part of Central Africa had at some time or other been
the scene of enormous volcanic activities. The important fact now,
however, was that a volcano known to have been active was in his
immediate neighbourhood. He knew that sulphurous fumes were thrown off
from volcanoes; was there any chance of finding sulphur itself in any
workable form on the slope of this adjacent mountain? It was worth
trying, and he resolved to make a careful examination of the ground.
Next day, then, accompanied by Mbutu, half a dozen hunters to procure
game, and twenty steady Bairo armed with picks and shovels, he set out
with this object. He had some difficulty at first in overcoming the
superstitious fears of his followers. Mbutu interpreted their
objections, which, recited by their spokesman in fear and trembling and
much grovelling on the earth, were quite unintelligible to Tom.
"This man say him berrah poor; him no can buy charms. Evil spirit plenty
too much strong, him burn up black man in big fire; hot mud drown black
man; smoke choke black man. Sah no afraid, no, no; him white man, big
medicine; black man him no medicine, afraid too much too much."
Remembering the proverbial pill to cure the earthquake, Tom solemnly
handed to each of his followers an empty cartridge-case, which he
explained was the strongest magic he possessed against the spirit of the
mountain. The device gave him some qualms; but he remembered that Dr.
Arbuthnot himself, the great eighteenth-century physician, had practised
similar innocent deceptions on noble lords, and he felt that in this
case the end justified the means.
The road for nearly half the distance was fairly easy, but it then
became very rugged, and progress was slow and laborious. Tom found many
traces of game, and in one place, approaching down wind, the party
disturbed a large herd of elephants. Tom resisted the impulse to pursue
them, although it cost him an effort, and pressed forward towards the
peak, which was visible as a truncated cone of no great height, for the
most part bare, but showing here and there patches of scrub and belts of
forest growth. The party had started early in the day, but it was
nearing sunset when they arrived within climbing distance of the peak,
and Tom decided to camp for the night and begin prospecting next
morning. Making an early start, he was on the slopes of the mountain
not long after dawn, and then began a toilsome search for traces of
sulphur in workable form. He felt sure that thousands of tons of the
desired substance lay around him, but unless he could find it in the
free state, or at least mechanically mixed with earth, with the
rough-and-ready appliances he could devise on the spot it would be quite
beyond his reach.
His first step was to build a fire on the slopes of the mountain, and
place two men in charge of it, with instructions to pile on a plentiful
supply of fuel. Then, dividing his men into squads of four, he made a
series of excavations in various spots simultaneously, going from one to
another to examine the earth that was dug up. Several times he thought
he had discovered the object of his quest, and a number of basketfuls of
earth were carried to the improvised furnace. There the ore was heaped
into a pile and ignited from the top, in the hope that the heat above
would melt any sulphur that might be contained in the lower part of the
mass, and cause it to run down into the specially-prepared cavity at the
bottom. This process was a wasteful one, but it had the merit of
simplicity, and Tom knew that if only a sufficient quantity of
sulphur-bearing earth could be obtained it would serve his purpose.
After several disappointments he at last came upon undoubted traces of
sulphur from the combustion of a quantity of earth obtained very close
to the crater. He wished to make another trial, but it was growing
late, and his men implored him not to remain on the mountain after
nightfall. His magic might suffice for the day, but nothing could
preserve them from the wrath of Irungo if he found them within his gates
during the hours of darkness. Their terror was so extreme that Tom
reluctantly withdrew to the site of the previous night’s camp; but at
the first streak of daylight he roused his men, who were feeling the
effects of their unaccustomed labours, and after breakfast led them back
to the spot at which the only promising find of the previous day had
been made. Removing nearly half a ton of earth, he made the experiment
this time on a larger scale, and when the mass had burned for some two
hours he was delighted to find a considerable quantity of crude sulphur
in the little cavity beneath the pile. He had used up a large amount of
wood in the process, for there was not sufficient sulphur in the ore
materially to assist the process of combustion, but there was
fortunately no lack of fuel within a few hundred yards of the place from
which the ore was taken, and by nightfall Tom was in possession of some
lumps of a dirty-brown substance which, when refined, might yield half
their weight of pure sulphur. When darkness fell he piled up an
unusually large heap of the ore, left a fire smouldering above it, and
was rewarded in the morning with a correspondingly large quantity of
crude sulphur in the receiver.
"This is glorious!" he said to Mbutu. "We have a good many pounds of
stuff now; the next thing is to see if sufficiently pure sulphur can be
refined from it to make powder. We can’t do that here, at any rate; and
besides, to-morrow is the day fixed for our grand palaver, so I think we
must be content for the present with what we have, and come again if we
find it successful. One thing is certain," his unspoken thought
continued, "there’s enough sulphur on this mountain to make powder for
all the army corps in the world, and if only there were means of transit
it might pay someone to lease it from the Congo Government. For all I
know, in fact, I may be trespassing; but I fancy the authorities won’t
mind much if they hear about it and know what I am doing it for.--Well,
my men, now for home. We have got what I wanted, and, as you see,
haven’t been molested by Irungo. You won’t mind coming again, eh?"
They returned to the village with their load. A mile before they
reached it, Mbutu all at once drew his master’s attention to a fresh
trail crossing their path from the east. There were the clear marks of
men’s feet, and also of small hoofs, which Mbutu declared were the
hoof-marks of donkeys.
"It looks as though a caravan of some sort were making for our village,"
said Tom. "Surely it cannot be Arabs?"
"No, sah; white man, sah. Donkeys; must be white man. Oh yes!"
"You don’t mean to imply any close relationship between white men and
donkeys? You don’t understand? Well, never mind. But I do hope that
our affairs are not to be complicated by entirely unnecessary
Europeans."
As he approached, he discerned unmistakeable signs of excitement in the
village. Those of the people who were not engaged in their regular
occupations were crowding towards the centre; and, looking over their
heads from his higher position, Tom saw a smaller group, composed of the
katikiro and some other of the principal men, gathered about a tall
broad figure in white clothes and white topee, whose back at the moment
was towards the gate by which Tom had entered. With him were several
tall natives whose dress distinguished them as strangers, and at one
point four well-laden donkeys were tethered, the object of great
interest to all the urchins of the place.
"Hullo!" said Tom to himself, "this is very curious. There’s decidedly a
commercial look about that fellow, and I seem to know his back, too.
Who in the world can it be? Some trader, perhaps, I caught sight of
casually at Mombasa or Kisumu, though I wonder what brings him to these
remote parts. He’s well armed; those rifles look uncommonly like
Mausers. And there’s a revolver in his belt. This is interesting."
Ordering his party to dispose of their loads and place the sulphur in
the courtyard of his hut, he approached quietly, and entered the
chattering crowd by a gap opened for him. In the centre of the crowd the
stranger stood in a clear space, two leather cases open on the ground in
front of him.
"By Jove!" Tom said to himself, as he came within a yard of the
stranger, who had not as yet perceived him, "I’m hanged if it isn’t
Schwab, gold spectacles and all! He’s diligent in business, if ever a
man was. Fancy trapesing out here with a caravan! Wonder what he’s
trying to gammon the katikiro into buying! I declare he’s whipped out
his note-book and is actually entering orders. I must look into this!"
Now at this time Kuboko presented a wholly different appearance from the
Tom Burnaby of a few months before. His face and neck were scorched to a
deep brick-red, save where they were covered with nearly five months’
growth of hair. His form had filled out somewhat after he recovered
from his illness. His clothes were indescribable. On his head, to keep
off the sun’s rays, he wore a calico head-dress of his own invention.
He might have passed for a particularly fine and rather less than
usually solemn Arab, and altogether he was not far wrong in his belief
that not one of his friends would at first sight have recognized him.
Consequently, when the respectful greetings of the katikiro and his
friends at length apprised Herr Schwab that someone of importance had
arrived, he turned and saw what he supposed to be a handsome young Arab,
whose presence in a Bahima village was sufficiently surprising.
Tom could not resist the temptation to have a little fun. Having
addressed a few authoritative words in their own tongue to the Bahima,
he salaamed to the German, and stood as though awaiting an explanation.
Schwab meanwhile had been taking stock of the supposed Arab, and having
been unable to come to any conclusion about him, he turned to the native
follower who was acting as interpreter, and through him asked whom he
had the honour of addressing. Tom signed to Mbutu, who at once
explained that it was, indeed, a great honour, since Kuboko was the
acting chief of the village, which contained some two thousand five
hundred souls, the biggest village between Tanganyika and the Nile. The
German at once expressed his high consideration for his friend
Kuboko--he thought he might call him his friend?--and he would be most
happy if he could do some business with him. Perhaps his friend Kuboko
knew a little English, for if he did, their intercourse would, he
thought, be much facilitated.
"Yes," said Tom slowly, "I do know English a little; it will be good to
speak English; business are business."
"Fery goot, my friend," said the German. "I am fery glad. Now, I
represent, vat you call stand for, ze great export house of
Schlagintwert in Düsseldorf, and I can sell you anyzink--yes, anyzink at
all, from Sheffield cutlery to Scotch visky. Yes, ve make in Düsseldorf
a particularly goot brant of real old Scotch visky. Ve make also
Birmingham screws, and Paisley sread; ve make Cumberland lead pencils
and, vat you vill like ze best of all, Manchester soft goots--all made
in Germany, my friend, and our terms are fipercentforcash. I say cash,
but I mean to say, of course, ivory, or rubber, or anyzink else of
vorth. Now, not often hafe I ze pleasure to meet a zhentleman vat speak
English in zese parts, and I am fery glad, fery glad indeed. I hafe
just booked ze goot black man for vun gross of pin-packetts, and I shall
trust to take your essteemed orders for anyzink--anyzink vatefer,
fipercentforcash, zanking you in an-ti-ci-pa-tion."
Tom could stand it no longer. Smothering a laugh, he clapped a hand on
the astonished German’s shoulder, and said:
"Pig-iron? What about pig-iron, Herr Schwab?"
"Ach! meine Güte!" exclaimed Schwab, his broad face one startled note of
interrogation, "who ze----who zen are you?"
He mopped his face with a red handkerchief, still holding his
pocket-book open in the other hand.
"Don’t you remember Tom Burnaby, on board the _Peninsular_, and your
kind offer of any number of tons of pig-iron?"
"Goot heafens!"
"And I saw you at Kisumu, don’t you know."
"Oh, I do know! yes; I do know indeed; and you vent after your
oncle--vat you call vild-goose hunt. But, but--pardon me, Mr. Burnaby,
you hafe taken my breass avay quite. You are like a--vat you call
gorilla, Mr. Burnaby."
"Just what I thought myself," rejoined Tom with a laugh. "I’m getting
acclimatized! But I haven’t quite forgotten civilized ways, and I’m
uncommonly glad to see you. It’s I don’t know how long since I spoke to
a European, and if you’ll come along to my hut I’ll give you some Bass’s
ale or Devonshire cider (brewed in Mwonga, as we call this village), and
anything else you like to order--prime Scotch beef, you know, and
Southdown mutton; or Frankfort _Bratwurst_, eh? and we can have a
comfortable talk and clear up a few inexplicables. But, first of all,
my dear Herr Schwab, I must ask you to cancel that order for pins. The
katikiro has never seen a pin in his life, I fancy."
"Oh, but indeed he has! I hafe showed him a packett. He vas fery
delighted. He gafe me order for vun gross, spot-price:
fipercentforcash."
"And how many pins in a packet, may I ask?"
"Hundert, or, because my packetts are particularly fine, perhaps hundert
ten."
"Ah! and a gross is twelve dozen, I believe, according to Cocker. Well
now, that will make--let me see--fifteen thousand eight hundred and
forty pins. Is that right?"
"No doubt at all; I could not do it so quick; but my house vill not be
particular about vun score or two. Say sixteen tousand pins, Mr.
Burnaby, and all zat big lot for vun tusk of ivory!"
"And what do you think my katikiro will do with sixteen thousand pins?
You really are too funny, Herr Schwab. Look at the extent of his
waist-cloth! No, I am very sorry, but I really must forbid the
transaction. Between ourselves, Msala is a bit of a wag, and as likely
as not he would make pin-cushions of all his dearest friends and get me
into no end of hot water. No; cancel that order, and we’ll see if we
can do business in some other of your innumerable articles."
"Fery vell, Mr. Burnaby; now zat is a promise--vat you call vun deal, is
it not? Fery vell. But I am amazed. I am indeed ass-tounded, to find
my young friend chief of a natife village. It is vonderful, it is
incr-redible! I hafe not yet recofered from ze stroke. I vould indeed
like some lager beer, lager beer from München; it vould help me
con-sid-er-ably to vat you call digest ze vonderful information."
"I can’t promise you real lager from München, or real Bass from
Stuttgart," said Tom, laughing; "but you’ll find our marwa very like
cider, and we can supply plenty of that--say two and a half per cent for
cash."
"Ah! Now you laugh at me! You are vat you call sly dog, eh? Hoch,
zen! Vun glass of marwa, and zen egsplain ze position. Vonderful!
Vonderful!"