Tom’s Armada
On the Trail--A Picked Force--Through the Great Forest--The Last of
Mabruki--On the Lake Shore--Building a Flotilla--Floating Forts--The
Island in the Lake--Forcing a Landing--A Parley--De Castro Expresses
Himself--Preparing for the Attack--Mwonda the Dauntless--Fire and
Sword--Rumaliza’s House--De Castro’s Last Shot
It was now one o’clock in the afternoon. For nine hours Tom and all his
men had been afoot, engaged in one of the most arduous struggles that
native Africa had known. The great fight so long anticipated was over;
the dreaded power of Rumaliza, the centre of the hateful slave-traffic,
was broken; Rumaliza himself, with his lieutenant Ahmed and many other
of his principal coadjutors, lay on the field, and the shattered remnant
of the force that left its distant stronghold in such warlike ardour and
confidence was routed beyond hope of rallying. But Tom saw that his
work was not yet completed. The fortress in the forest still remained.
It was no doubt strongly garrisoned; the fugitives would naturally
betake themselves thither; the survivors of De Castro’s force and De
Castro himself would gather there, and in course of time, though they
could never expect to recover their old strength and prestige, they
might repair their disaster sufficiently to menace for years to come the
security and happiness of the weaker tribes. "I must destroy their
scorpions’ nest," said Tom to himself wearily; "when shall I see home
again?"
He saw that his force was too much exhausted to carry operations further
that day. Of less than four thousand men, at least five hundred lay
dead and wounded; and their exertions had been so violent and so
long-continued that the living and unwounded were fit for nothing but
rest. Mbutu and the eight hundred who had so opportunely arrived with
him were still apparently keeping up the pursuit, and it was impossible
to make any detailed arrangements until they returned. Tom, therefore,
sent off a messenger to the village with news of the victory, and with
orders to the katikiro to bring up two hundred men with a stock of
ammunition. He then went with a few of his body-guard to the Arabs’
camp, where their vast horde of slave carriers must now be dealt with.
He found that the slaves, at least five thousand in number, had risen
and overpowered their guards, and were working havoc among the effects
of their late masters. At Tom’s appearance they crowded round him, some
of them recognizing him as the prisoner who had escaped months before
from the clutches of Mustapha. The poor creatures were wild with
delight at the discomfiture of the Arabs, and many of them threw
themselves at Tom’s feet and vowed that they were his, body and soul, to
do with as he pleased. Seeing on them unmistakeable evidences of
terrible suffering during their recent march--open sores, mutilated
features, scars and weals made by the lash--Tom lost all compassion for
the Arabs who had perished in the fight, and was strengthened in his
resolve to visit the Arab stronghold and there complete the work he had
begun.
He ordered his men to knock off the chains from their necks and ankles,
and those who were thus liberated to assist in the work with their
fellows. He ordered them also to collect the ammunition, stores, and
camp furniture and carry them to the zariba, and then to dig deep
trenches and bury the dead. The slaves were suffering greatly from want
of water, and Tom informed them of the stream two miles to the south,
and allowed them to go and refresh themselves at it, commanding them to
report themselves before nightfall at the zariba, where he intended to
camp for the night.
Two hours later Mbutu returned, accompanied by a portion of his force.
They gave a great shout when Tom welcomed them, and Mbutu, his face
beaming with joy, informed his master of his recent movements. With a
quickness for grasping a military situation with which Tom had not
credited him, he had seen the importance of preventing any considerable
concentration of the fugitives, and sent small bodies of men to the
right and left to guard the approaches to the forest, and thus prevent
any junction of the scattered bands of Arabs and Manyema who had spread
out fanwise in the course of their retreat.
"You have done splendidly, Mbutu," said Tom, patting him on the
shoulder. "But why were you so late in bringing up the eight hundred
men? We were almost at our last gasp."
Mbutu explained that when his brother reached the volcano he found the
eight hundred men in a state of great perplexity at the non-appearance
of Kuboko. They had waited and waited, expecting to be engaged in some
enterprise of moment, and when hour after hour passed away, and day
followed day, without their receiving any orders, they had grown angry.
Some of them had wandered miles away to the south of the mountain to see
if there was anything in that direction that seemed to call for them.
When Mboda appeared and ordered them to return, it took some time to
collect the dispersed bands, and though they had made all haste, they
had found it impossible to march with any great speed over the broken
country between the volcano and the village. Mbutu had met them, indeed,
a few miles north of the village, and had brought them on, with the
fresh men drawn from the garrison, as rapidly as possible. He was
thankful "too much, too much," he said, that he had arrived at such a
critical moment. To save time, he had chosen to risk wading across the
swamp in preference to taking the longer circuit round it through the
forest.
"And you did well," said Tom. "If you had gone the farther way we
should have been overpowered, I fear. It was a stroke of genius, Mbutu.
The art of generalship is to know when to take risks. Some people call
it luck, but I can’t see myself why luck should have such a happy knack
of favouring the incapable."
Mbutu did not understand this speech, but he saw that his master was
pleased with him, and he went with all cheerfulness and contentment to
superintend the camping arrangements for the night, receiving willing
assistance from Msala, who came up presently in a state of great
delight, tempered by regret at his own enforced absence from the scene
of the great battle. To please Mbutu, Tom then sent his brother Mboda
with a small force into the forest to build a new stockade on the
farther bank of the fordable stream, so as to block the way of any Arabs
who might endeavour to retrace their steps over the central path.
Next morning, before returning to the village, Tom sent eight hundred of
his best men, divided into several bands under trusty leaders, to dog
the fugitive Arabs. Some were to scour the country on the outskirts of
the forest, others to penetrate the forest itself, press forward beyond
the new stockade, and watch every narrow cross-track, every possible
alley, so as effectually to bar the retreat of the Arabs except by long
circuitous routes on which, as the news of their defeat spread, they
would be exposed to the attacks of the tribes they had ill-treated and
oppressed. These scouting bodies were to carry with them sufficient
food for three days, and at the end of that time to return.
Tom’s march to the village was a triumphal progress. The people came
out in their thousands to meet him, and in a great glad throng, amid the
din of drums and loud songs of victory, escorted him to his
head-quarters. Mwonga ordered several of his finest oxen to be killed
for the victor’s feast, and extensive preparations were made for high
jubilation. Tom could not but be sympathetic towards the people’s
rejoicings, but he recognized the danger of their imagining that nothing
remained to be done, and he determined at once to make the situation
clear to them. Early in the afternoon he summoned all the chiefs to a
council at some distance from the village, where they could deliberate
without interrupting, or being interrupted by, the festal proceedings.
When they were assembled he made a short address to them, in which he
reviewed what had been accomplished, and clearly stated what had yet to
be done.
"True, the Arabs are scattered," he said. "You have all done nobly.
But many of your men have been killed; many of your women are widows and
your children fatherless to-day. If your sacrifices, your toils, your
wounds, are not to be useless, you must not stay your hands until this
nest of venomous snakes is utterly destroyed. You must make one more
effort, my brothers. It may not be a great one. The flower of the Arab
army is destroyed; there cannot be more than a handful at their
stronghold. Our successes hitherto will have encouraged you, and you
will not fail to see that by one final blow you may destroy your enemies
for ever. If, however, you let slip this opportunity, the Arabs will in
time recover even from this great defeat, as they have recovered from
defeats in the past, and by and by the old evil work of raiding for
ivory and slaves will begin again. I myself will lead you to this Arab
stronghold, and in a few weeks the impregnable fortress of which they
boast shall be a heap of smoking ruins."
The majority of the chiefs shouted an instant assent to Kuboko’s
proposal, but some murmured discontentedly, and declared that they had
done enough; the Arab stronghold was far away, and they wished to get
back to their own villages and resume their ordinary life. Tom accepted
the position good-humouredly.
"Let those who wish to go to their homes go," he said. "I understand
their feeling. I myself long ardently to see my own home again. Let
them go, then; and I thank them for their brave and willing services.
But for the rest--I ask you, brothers, shall we sacrifice a little more,
and make the Arabs drink to the dregs the bitter cup they have so often
brewed for you their victims?"
"We will! we will!" cried most of the chiefs.
"It is well. Now, we have a long march before us, my brothers, but ’tis
a long track that has no end. We shall reach their stronghold; we shall
capture it, and if perchance a great booty, stores of ivory stolen from
you, should fall into our hands, I promise you it shall be divided among
you in proportion to the number of men you severally furnish."
The prospect of booty, conjoined with their deep-seated hatred of the
Arabs and their exultation at their recent victory, made the chiefs all
eagerness to attempt the new enterprise. Many of the murmurers were now
among the most anxious to volunteer, and Tom was intensely amused as
they tried with every appearance of artlessness to explain away their
previous reluctance. He went on to say that he would not need all their
men; he asked for only twelve hundred fighting men and as many carriers.
But both carriers and warriors must be of the very best; he needed men
who were strong and active, and, above all, prompt to obey. He arranged
with the chiefs to make a selection during the next few days from among
their contingents, and was secretly pleased when he found, as the work
of selection proceeded, that the men who were not picked went about with
dejected faces, and openly envied their comrades’ good fortune.
From prisoners who had fallen into his hands Tom learnt that when the
Arab force left, a garrison of about five hundred men remained in the
island fortress. They were all Arabs, well armed, under the command of
his old enemy Mustapha, and secure in their possession of a post which
they deemed impregnable. Before he could reach it, Tom had no doubt
that the garrison would be increased by the arrival of De Castro with
the survivors from his luckless expedition, and also by a certain number
of Rumaliza’s force, who would succeed in evading pursuit and escaping
the perils of the forest. He might also have to reckon with the overdue
raiding-party from the north. But even though the defenders of the
fortress should number nearly a thousand, Tom was confident that twelve
hundred of his disciplined and seasoned men would suffice to reduce the
place.
Several days were spent in choosing men and collecting stores. Tom
could not resist Msala’s plea to be allowed this time to take an active
part by his side. Mwonda was one of his lieutenants as a matter of
course, and Mbutu begged that his brother Mboda might accompany the
expedition. There was no lack of arms and ammunition; the chief
difficulty that faced Tom was that of provisioning his force during the
march through the forest, which he expected, from information received
from the prisoners, to occupy nearly a month. While the resources of
the village and the surrounding country were being taxed to the
uttermost, Tom sent a force of five hundred men into the forest to build
a strong redoubt three days’ march within its borders, and arranged with
one of his allies, the chief of a small village still farther in the
forest, destroyed by the Arabs in their advance, to return and rebuild
his village, with entrenchments and fortifications. Both these places
he decided to make depots for large stores of grain, in order to reduce
the work of the carriers with the expedition, and to form reserves in
case of a check.
It was a fine day in December, a week after the battle, when the
expedition started. Tom was convinced that in point of physique no
finer force ever set out on any military enterprise. During the week all
that good food and regular drill could do had been done to bring the men
into perfect condition, and, looking at their well-developed muscular
frames and clear bright eyes, Tom felt proud to command them.
The redoubt was already built and stocked when the column reached it at
the end of the third day’s march. Two days later, on reaching the
native chief’s village, Tom was surprised to see what progress had been
made with its reconstruction. Men, women, and children were hard at
work, running up grass huts and stockading the whole enceinte. When the
force resumed their march next morning, Tom felt that the expedition was
beginning in earnest.
Then began the long march towards the Arab fortress, a march to which
Tom always looked back with mingled pleasure and pain. His previous
acquaintance with the great Congo Forest had been made in a time of such
stress, anxiety, and illness that he had missed many things which now,
as he marched with a large confident force of warriors, he had more
leisure to notice. The column was led by a company of pioneers to clear
the path where it was overgrown with creepers and bush. Then came a
company of musketeers, followed by pikemen, among whom Tom kept his
place, accompanied by the ever-faithful Mbutu. Behind these trudged the
carriers, strong straight men with no lumber about them, tramping along
steadily beneath their burdens, poking fun at each other and at the men
in front of them, laughing at any slight mishap that occurred during
their progress. After these came the rest of the force, the officers
placed among the men at intervals, big Mwonda being in command of the
rearguard. The march began each day at 6.30 and continued until 11,
when the column halted for dinner and rest; it was resumed at 12.30, and
ended about 4 o’clock, to allow time for forming a camp before dark, and
for stragglers to rejoin. Ten miles a day was the longest distance that
could be traversed through the denser undergrowth, and Tom learnt from
the Arab prisoners whom he had brought with him as guides that, allowing
for delays caused by rivers to be crossed, felled trees to clamber over,
detours to be made to avoid other obstacles, it would take him nearly
three weeks to reach the lake in the midst of which the island-fortress
stood.
Tom realized now for the first time what the worst difficulties of
forest marching were. The ground was rank with vegetable corruption,
the atmosphere with exhalations from myriads of dead insects, leaves,
plants. At every pace his head, neck, arms, or clothes were caught by a
tough creeper, a calamus thorn, a coarse brier, or a giant thistle-like
plant, scratching and rending whatever portion they hooked on.
Innumerable insects lent their aid to embarrass and worry him,
especially the polished black ants, which dropped upon him from the
leaves of trees as he passed, and inflicted bites worse than the wasp’s
sting, till his skin was swollen up in large white blisters. Yellow
ants and termites also seemed to have an insatiable appetite, nibbling,
gnawing, prowling all day long. There was the mantis, too, a strange
insect five inches long, gaunt, weird, mysterious; and numbers of
ladybirds, their brilliant red spotted with black. Tom heard the
rustling of millions of tiny wings, the garrulous chirp of crickets, the
buzz of ant-lions, the dull roar of bull-frogs. And over all the lower
sounds was the crackle of twigs, the crash of falling branches, the
creaking of the huge, thick-clad stems as they were brushed by the wind.
There were leopard-scratches on the boles; a genet cat was occasionally
seen; rhinoceroses and crocodiles were met at the broader streams; Tom
was told several marvellous stories of the incredible strength of the
sokos; once or twice some of his men assured him that they had caught
sight of pigmies, who instantly disappeared as soon as they were
observed. They gave no sign of hostility, and Tom congratulated himself
on the fact that his saving of the pigmy woman’s child seemed to have
won for him the freedom of the forest.
There was very little to indicate that the path had already been
traversed by a large Arab force. Occasionally the advance-guard came
upon the remains of a human body, sometimes a mere skeleton with chains
still about the neck and ankles--some poor slave left by the Arabs to
die of starvation or by the more merciful agency of the wild beasts that
haunted the forest shades. The native habit was to walk round these
horrible obstructions in the path, but Tom had ordered his men to remove
them into the forest.
On the sixth day of the march his foremost pioneer came running back to
him in great excitement. He had come upon a dead body lying across the
path, and he declared positively that it was the corpse of Mabruki.
Tom was at first incredulous, but on reaching the spot he saw that the
figure stretched on the path was unmistakeably that of the medicine-man.
He lay face downwards, and innumerable insects were already at work on
his body; but he could not have been dead long, for there was no sign of
mutilation by any wild beast. One of the men turned the body over, and
then Tom saw a pigmy spear transfixing the traitor’s breast. The weapon
was evidently poisoned, for the twisted limbs and contorted features
indicated that the hapless man had tasted death in one of its most
terrible forms.
"Put him out of sight!" said Tom, shuddering as he passed on. He
surmised that on escaping from the village to avoid the penalty due to
his treason, Mabruki had struck due north and had used his knowledge of
the forest to make his way by side tracks into the depths far from the
main path. He had struck into that path when all fear of meeting Tom’s
men was gone, and then, while on his way to join the Arabs, or perhaps
to foist his false magic upon some lesser chief, he had met with swift
death at the hands of the Bambute.
The tragic end of the medicine-man made a deep impression on the
natives. Many of them had believed that he was invulnerable to
everything but superior magic, such as Kuboko’s, and his death by so
paltry a weapon as a pigmy’s spear destroyed the last shred of their
faith in him. Hearing now for the first time the story of his treason,
they were quick to connect his fate with his crime, and said among
themselves that white man’s medicine certainly reached far and never
failed.
Day followed day, and the march was little varied. Once or twice the
column passed the sites of what had been small villages, now waste and
desolate. The Arabs had burnt and destroyed every human habitation upon
or near their path. There were streams here and there to be crossed,
sometimes by fords, sometimes by tall trunks thrown across from bank to
bank, once on a bridge consisting of a large tree submerged two feet
below the surface. Whenever a temporary thinness in the foliage
overhead allowed the sunlight to stream fully on the path, the spirits
of the men seemed to respond, and they broke into song. Tom noticed the
leader in these choruses, a tall handsome young fellow with a fine
mellow voice, clearly a prime favourite with the men. His songs were
composed on the spur of the moment, but they were picked up at once by
his comrades, who raised the chorus in strange wild harmony, Tom had
become so accustomed to the ingenuous adulation of the negroes that it
no longer caused a pang to his modesty to hear himself made the subject
of their pæans. One of their songs, roughly rendered in English, ran:--
"Sing, O friends, sing!
We are all warriors bold, and Kuboko is king.
Aha! Aha!
Strong is his arm and invincible; sing, brothers, sing!
Blithely we march. Ah! what will the enemy say?
On to the fortress; long is the way.
Then we will eat and drink, dance all the livelong day.
Aha! Aha!"
Thanks to the slow rate of marching, regulated by the pace of the
carriers, to the good food-supply, and to the physical fitness of the
men when they started, there had not been more than fifty cases of
sickness in the column, when, after twenty days’ marching, Tom learnt
from his prisoners that he was but half a day from the lake in which the
Arab fort was situated. He pitched his camp that evening with even more
care than usual, and gave strict orders that no member of the force was
to stir beyond its bounds without permission. He sent forward a few
scouts to reconnoitre, and one of these reported, on his return to camp,
that he had caught sight of several Arabs making their way rapidly
towards the lake.
"The enemy’s scouts!" thought Tom. "Well, we could not hope to surprise
them."
He posted extra sentries that night, though he hardly expected an
attack, and the hours of darkness passed without incident. By ten
o’clock next morning, Tom, with the head of the column, had reached the
lake side. It was a larger sheet of water than he had expected to see,
extending as far as the eye could reach in a north-westerly direction,
bordered to the very edge with dense forest and extensive banks of
reeds. Some miles off, almost equidistant between the east and west
shores, rose the island, a mass of dark green in the blue water. As the
warriors came in sight of it they raised great shouts. Not one of them
had seen it before, for the escape of a slave was an almost unknown
event. Tom himself felt a strange thrill as he looked over the placid
water and realized that that distant forest-covered islet was to be the
scene of a stern fight. He stood gazing at it in silence, thinking of
the long years during which it had been a hot-bed of cruelty and wrong,
and he felt a thrill of joy at having attained the desire of his
heart--the opportunity to strike at the head of the slave-dragon.
"And," he said to himself, "please God, I will strike hard!"
No well-trodden path led to the lake side. The men had had to make a
way for themselves through the underwood. On reaching the edge they came
upon clear signs of human activity--a rough landing-stage of boards,
litter and debris of all kinds. But no human being except Tom’s own men
was in sight, nor, so far as could be ascertained, was any boat moored
along the shore, though the banks of reeds might well conceal many
craft.
"Mbutu," said Tom, "clamber up that tall tree and tell me what you see."
Mbutu, agile as a monkey, was soon swarming up a straight trunk.
"I see a boat!" he cried, when he came near the top. "Long, long way;
go dis way"--he waved his arm from east to west. "Go from shore to
island. Small canoe; four men. No more, sah."
Tom called up a prisoner, and, questioning him, learnt that the canoe
was probably crossing at the shortest passage, requiring only half the
time that would be taken from the point at which the expedition had
struck the lake.
"Anything more to be seen, Mbutu?"
"No, sah, nuffin."
"Come down, then; we’ll have to do a little scouting."
A path ran round the lake close to the edge, narrow and much overgrown,
but evidently leading to the spot from which the canoe had started for
the island. Tom sent fifty of his best scouts, under Mboda, to explore
this path.
"If you come across any canoes, seize them," he said. "Don’t fight if
they are defended in force; they probably won’t be worth losing lives
for."
While the scouts were gone he ordered the men to form an entrenched
camp. For all he knew the enemy might be lurking in the forest ready to
take advantage of any slip, any sign of unwariness; and until he had
located the Arabs, and, if possible, discovered what their strength was,
it was impossible to form definite plans for an attack on the fortress.
Towards dusk Mboda returned with his men and reported that the path grew
wider and less obstructed as it bent northward. They had seen one
canoe, manned by a crew of half a dozen Manyema, who had shipped their
paddles and jeered when they caught sight of the scouts. The best
marksmen among these had tried a shot at the canoe, which, though it had
fallen short, had been sufficient to set the men hastily paddling
towards the island. Mboda had tried to see exactly where their
landing-place was, but the shore of the island appeared to be an
impenetrable wall of jungle.
When the evening meal had been eaten, and the camp-fires were lit, Tom
sent for his prisoners again and subjected them to a further
interrogation. He learnt that the lake was fed by a small river flowing
from the north-east, as well as by numerous rivulets at other points.
The surplus water escaped on the left, where it formed a fairly large
stream. The mouth of the river on the north-east was fringed with dense
clumps of reeds.
"Since there are apparently no canoes to be captured we shall have to
make some," said Tom to himself; "and that will take time. I hope our
stock of food will last till we capture the Arabs’ stores. Dug-outs
will be the easiest to make, I suppose. These men of mine have never
made a canoe in their lives, I suspect. Msala," he said aloud to the
katikiro, "could you make a canoe, do you think?"
Msala looked doubtful, but at length said that he thought he could if
Kuboko would show him the way!
"Like the genius who had never played the fiddle, but thought he could
if he tried!" thought Tom. "O wise man!" he said. "That’s a good
answer. I’ll try to show you the way, though I’ve done nothing of the
sort since I broke a dozen pen-knives carving a sailing-boat when I was
a boy of twelve. The first question is, where are these canoes to be
made, eh?"
Msala could give no assistance towards solving this problem, but Tom
soon thought it out for himself. The outlet on the west was wide, the
prisoner had said, and comparatively free from reeds. Operations there
would run the risk of being disturbed, for no doubt the enemy possessed
a considerable flotilla on the island. But the reeds at the mouth of
the river on the north-east would serve as a screen, and a few
sharpshooters carefully posted would easily defend the position against
attack.
"That’s the place, evidently," said Tom. "To-morrow morning, Msala,
we’ll start building our fleet. Now for sleep, my men--we must be up
early in the morning."
Next day he ordered his men to build a block-house where he had emerged
from the forest, so as to intercept any fugitive Arabs who might have
found their way back to the lake, and to keep a general look-out.
Leaving a garrison of two hundred men there, he started with the rest
towards the north-east corner, which they reached after an arduous march
of fifteen miles, the path having to be cut after they left the
principal landing-stage opposite the eastern shore of the island. It
happened to be a particularly bright and clear day, and at different
points along the route Tom caught glimpses of the island, which enabled
him to form a fairly good idea of its character and extent. He judged
it to be about a mile long; it was covered with vegetation of the nature
of jungle, tall forest-trees being conspicuously absent. The prisoners
pointed out the exact spot, near the centre of the island, where the
fort was situated, but so dense was the thicket that not a corner of it
was visible. They explained that, while the forest-growth at the shore
was allowed to remain in its pristine wildness, within this fringe and
behind some plantations the ground had been cleared, and the fort,
capable of containing two thousand men, had been built on a slight
eminence in the very centre of the island. It consisted of a double row
of palisades, fifteen feet in height, the exterior palisade being
defended throughout its whole circuit by a glacis, with a slope of one
foot in four.
"So there are two difficulties to surmount," thought Tom. "First, the
difficulty of reaching the island and landing my men; then the
difficulty of storming a fort defended by such high outworks and a
glacis to boot. It’s a case of scaling-ladders as well as canoes. A
great piece of luck that I thought of bringing so many artificers among
the carriers."
When the force reached the mouth of the river, it was too late to begin
the work of constructing canoes. Tom ordered his men to make an
entrenched camp, and to throw up a special earthwork behind the screen
of reeds, where a company of picked marksmen could easily defend the
canoe-makers from attack. Early next morning Tom set all his men who
had axes to fell the largest and straightest teak in the forest, a few
hundred feet from the shore. When the trees were felled, another band
of men was set to strip off the foliage and bark, and so quickly did
they work that by nightfall a large number of huge logs lay ready for
scooping out, varying in length from forty to sixty-five feet. Tom saw
that he would need a fleet of about forty-five canoes if he intended to
convey all his force to the island at one time, as would probably be
necessary. He therefore selected the requisite number of trees himself,
and while the carriers were felling these he instructed the warriors how
to dig them out. He divided them into gangs of twenty to thirty, each
gang to form one canoe crew, and he set these to fashion their own
craft. He marked off equal lengths along the logs, and gave each man
his own portion to scoop out with knife or pike-head, encouraging them
to work hard by the promise of a reward to the man who finished his
portion first. They all worked with a will, driving their tools into
the wood with unfaltering zeal, and showing much interest in their novel
work.
While the digging-out was in progress, Tom employed other men in making
thwarts and rough paddles, and the best carpenters in constructing
scaling-ladders. After ten days’ work he was in possession of
forty-five dug-outs, with their due equipment of paddles, and fifty
ladders ten feet high. The canoes were, of course, keelless, and Tom
knew that they were bound to sway and roll with the slightest movement
of the body; but fortunately there was little likelihood of their having
to encounter rough weather, and he hoped that they would suffice to
convey his men across the four miles separating the lake shore at this
point from the island. "They’ll do as well as Napoleon’s flat-bottom
boats, I expect," he thought; "or better, for his invasion never came
off, and mine will."
The work had not been carried on for ten days without molestation.
Every day canoes came from the island, filled with armed men, evidently
curious to learn what was going on out of sight. On the first day they
paddled towards the mouth of the river, and Tom ordered his men behind
the earthwork to allow them to approach well within gunshot, and then to
let them have a sharp volley. The canoes came within fifty yards of the
concealed marksmen without suspecting their danger, and at least half
the men on board were hit when the Bahima opened fire. The survivors
paddled away in frantic haste, and ever after that the canoes kept out
of harm’s way, the Arabs contenting themselves with patrolling the lake,
in cheerful assurance that their fortress was impregnable. All this
time Tom sent scouting-parties regularly along the shore, from whom he
learnt that at several points on the western side there were large
clearings, which appeared to have been slave settlements, and he
concluded that the slaves had either been withdrawn into the island or
sent deeper into the forest.
His preparations so far being complete--and none too soon, for the stock
of food was running low,--Tom decided to make a reconnaissance towards
the island. He first tested some of his canoes on the river, out of
sight from the Arabs, employing a few men who knew how to paddle, and
found to his great pleasure that, though clumsy and incapable of being
propelled swiftly, they rode the water fairly upright, and were safe
enough in a calm. He therefore ordered his men to launch half a dozen
of the canoes at the mouth of the river, and with these fully manned
with riflemen he moved slowly towards the island. The movement was
instantly observed; hardly a minute had elapsed before a fleet of twenty
light, swift canoes, filled with armed Manyema, shot out from the island
and made towards him. Recognizing that he could not hope to vie with
them in speed, and that he could not approach the island so closely as
he wished without running great risks, Tom ordered his men to paddle
back, and regained his camp. A tremendous yell of delight from the
Arabs’ canoes, ringing clear over the still water, bore witness to the
enemy’s confidence, but Tom only smiled. He remembered reading, in one
of Stanley’s books, an account of how that great explorer had defended
some canoes from attack in precisely similar circumstances, and once
more he found his recollection serve him well. He sent his men into the
forest, some to cut long poles an inch thick, others to cut poles three
inches thick and seven feet long, a third band to cut straight long
trees four inches thick, and a fourth to remove the bark from all these
and make bark-rope. While this was being done Tom selected three of the
longest canoes, and had them drawn up parallel to one another near the
water’s edge, and four feet apart. As the stripped trees were brought
up they were laid across the canoes, and lashed firmly to the thwarts
with the bark-rope. Then the seven-foot poles were lashed in an upright
position to the thwarts of the outer canoes at the extreme edge, and the
inch-thick rods were twisted in and out among these uprights, just as
gipsies make baskets. After this, thin saplings were woven in through
any remaining interstices, and at the end of the day the structure
resembled a huge oblong stockade of basket-work, sixty-five feet long
and twenty-seven feet wide. A gap having been cut in one of its faces,
and a rough gate made, the contrivance was complete.
Next morning Tom went to a distance of three hundred yards and tried a
shot at the stockade with one of his men’s rifles. The bullet
penetrated the wall, but fell dead inside. He then ordered his men to
collect reeds and large leaves from the toughest plants they could find,
and with these to line the inside of the palisade. When this was done
he tried another shot, and found that the bullet embedded itself in the
lining. Delighted with the assurance that the structure was practically
bullet-proof, he next instructed his men to make loopholes at intervals
along the sides, and then ordered eight hundred of the carriers to haul
and push the strange, awkward-looking fort to the water. He then sent
sixty paddlers to take their places on the thwarts, and a hundred and
fifty musketeers to find room among them. He was in some anxiety lest
with its full complement of men the fort should be too heavy to float,
but a few moments’ paddling convinced him that, unwieldy as it was, it
would ride the water, though to propel it with any speed was out of the
question. A great shout of applause burst from the onlookers as the
floating fort moved a few yards towards the lake. Tom ordered it back,
stepped on board, closed the gate, and started on his reconnaissance.
The warriors left on shore watched the progress of the strange craft
across the lake. It went on slowly and steadily towards the island, and
reached the middle of the channel before any sign of movement was made
by the enemy. Then forty canoes swept out swiftly from the island’s
green bank, and in one of the foremost, as it came more clearly in
sight, Tom, spying through one of the loopholes, saw his old enemy De
Castro. The canoes came on rapidly; when within four hundred yards they
stopped dead, and the men on board of them opened fire. The worst
marksman could hardly have missed so huge a target, and the exposed wall
of the redoubt rang with the impact of hundreds of bullets, only a few
of which penetrated, to fall quite harmlessly in the water between the
canoes. Tom then ordered the paddlers to slew the fort round, so that
it presented one of its longer sides to the enemy, and a few moments
later a volley burst from the loopholes, doing considerable damage among
the crowded craft of the Arabs. Seeing that the inventiveness of the
English lad had once more proved too much for him, De Castro, with a
curse, ordered his men to paddle back to the island, and Tom was left to
make his reconnaissance unmolested.
Slowly the unwieldy mass moved round the island--slowly, steadily, like
some uncouth leviathan. Even Tom’s own men on shore, who had seen it
made, watched it with awe, and some of them cried out that it was a
spirit in monstrous shape. As he circumnavigated the island, Tom kept a
keen look-out towards it, and found that there were several possible
landing-places, the shore being comparatively low. Deciding that the
most convenient point of debarkation was a sparsely wooded tongue of
land at the south-east corner, Tom made a careful mental note of the
whole position, and returned to his own quarters, well satisfied with
his day’s work.
The next two days were spent in constructing two similar floating
redoubts, and in practising the men in paddling, for the majority of
them were helpless on the water. Tom was loth to delay his attack, and
feared that De Castro might make an attempt to escape. He therefore
withdrew half the men from the block-house at the edge of the forest,
and kept them, along with men from his force, constantly patrolling the
shores of the lake, to watch for any movement from the island. His
fears were groundless, as he afterwards discovered. De Castro did indeed
suggest to Mustapha that the principal men should decamp with the
treasure, leaving the fort to its fate, but the Arab curtly refused. He
had sworn an oath on the Koran before Rumaliza’s departure to defend the
treasure till the last, and he himself had a bone to pick with the
audacious English youth who had tied him up with his own rope in his own
hut. He was, besides, so positive that the enemy, even if he effected a
landing, would fling himself in vain against the defences, that he
scoffed at De Castro’s fears and taunted him with cowardice.
At dawn on a bright January day Tom set forth on his momentous
enterprise. The three redoubts, each with two hundred men on board, led
the way, followed by thirty canoes fully manned, these last containing
the worst marksmen in the force. Tom half expected that the enemy,
having already proved their helplessness against the floating forts,
would make no attempt to oppose his landing; but he soon saw that his
passage was not to be uncontested. Forty-five canoes came out to meet
him. At a distance of a thousand yards the Arabs’ flotilla divided into
two squadrons, and, rowing three strokes to the one of Tom’s paddlers,
evidently intended to sweep behind the cumbrous redoubts and fall upon
the canoes, a design which Tom at once took steps to defeat. He was
himself in the centre redoubt. He ordered the other two to move off to
right and left until there was a clear quarter of a mile between him and
them. The formation of his flotilla had then roughly the shape of a
bent bow, the three redoubts representing the arc and the canoes the
angle formed by the stretched string. By thus extending his front, Tom
compelled the Arabs to make a wide circuit. Even then they passed
within range of the loopholed faces of the floating forts, and suffered
severely from the merciless volleys poured out by the Bahima. Drawing
out of range, they had just begun to converge behind the redoubts when
Tom ordered these to stop, thus allowing time for his canoes behind to
close up and pass between them. The position was now reversed, the bow
being pointed in exactly the opposite direction, Tom’s canoes nearest
the island, and the Arabs’ farthest away. Within his redoubt Tom could
distinctly hear the wild threats and cries of De Castro as he ordered
his men to swing round and paddle back to the island.
"He’s afraid we shall be there first," said Tom with a smile to Mbutu.
His move had completely disconcerted the enemy, who abandoned outright
the attempt to delay the progress of the flotilla, and made off at full
speed to the island. There most of the armed men disembarked, and the
unarmed paddlers, with a few Arab marksmen as guard, withdrew the canoes
towards the north.
[Illustration: The Fight on the Lake]
Tom’s redoubt arrived without mishap off the spot selected for the
landing, and was there met by a tremendous fusillade from the enemy
concealed in the wood. Thanks to the stoutness of his palisade, he
sustained no casualties, but it was evident that his men would suffer
severely if they landed before the woods were cleared. He knew from his
prisoners that thick copses stretched northwards and westwards from the
tongue of land he had arrived at; about a hundred and fifty yards inland
they gave place to plantations of pine-apples, bananas, and other
fruits; then came another belt of wild woodland fifty yards deep.
Judging from the hotness of the enemy’s fire that the woods coming down
to the shore were full of marksmen, he decided that these must at once
be cleared. He ordered the separate canoes to stand off for the present
out of range, and then sent two of the redoubts northwards to hug the
shore, and halt about a hundred yards up, while he had his own redoubt
propelled for the same distance to the west. At a given signal, the men
in the redoubts opened fire through the loopholes, their fire crossing
over the south-east corner of the island, enfilading the copses that
commanded the landing-place. After half an hour of this, Tom came to
the conclusion, from the sudden cessation of the enemy’s fire, that they
had abandoned their positions and fallen back into the belt of woodland
nearer the fort. He therefore landed two hundred fighting-men from each
of the two redoubts, unperceived by the Arabs, and sent one redoubt up
coast northwards, and another to the west, to divert, if possible, the
enemy’s attention from movements in their front. Then, running his own
redoubt on to the tongue of land, he ordered the canoes in the offing to
paddle up swiftly and disembark their men, retaining the men in his own
redoubt to protect the landing-parties. But no attack was made; the
landing was quickly effected. Tom then threw open the gate of his
redoubt, disembarked his fighting-men, and sent the redoubt back to the
mainland to fetch the scaling-ladders, and a supply of food and
ammunition, including a number of fire-balls he had brought with him
from the village.
He had now more than a thousand men safely on the island. As soon as
they were formed up, he led eight hundred forward to penetrate the
copse, and, after discovering by means of skirmishers that the movements
of the redoubts had, as he hoped, drawn off a large body of the enemy
from his front, he threw his men across the plantations and into the
farther wood. There, after a sharp fight, in which his men
distinguished themselves by the nimbleness with which they worked
forward under cover of the trees, he had the satisfaction of seeing the
Arabs bolt across the open space beyond, and enter the fort by the gate
in the outer stockade. Between himself and the glacis the land was
absolutely clear of trees.
There were three gates to the fort, as Tom had learnt from the
prisoners, one at the north, one at the east, and the one at the south
by which the Arabs had just entered. Before sunset he had formed an
entrenched camp opposite the eastern gate, into which he drew the whole
of his force. Next morning he sent one redoubt, accompanied by five
canoes, each way round the island to search for the Arab flotilla,
surmising that the enemy, fearing an assault in front, would not venture
to despatch a sufficient force to protect their boats. It turned out as
he hoped. The redoubts returned in the afternoon, and reported that the
enemy’s canoes were found moored along the northern shore, under the
charge of a mere handful of Manyema, who, when they saw the mysterious
forts bearing remorselessly down upon them, did not wait to fire even
one volley, but incontinently fled. Mwonda, who had been in command of
the expedition, gleefully pointed to the long lines of canoes which he
had brought back with him, towed by the redoubts and by the ten canoes
which had accompanied them.
"Well done, Mwonda!" said Tom. "Now we will keep twenty of the captured
canoes for our own use; the rest you can tow out into the lake and set
on fire. We shall thus effectually prevent any of our enemy from
escaping."
The men cheered wildly as they saw the blaze on the surface of the
water, and clamoured to be led against the fort. But Tom called the
katikiro, the kasegara, and other chief men to his side.
"My friends," he said to them, "I have come to beat the Arabs, as you
know. But in the fights we have already had much blood has been shed.
It would be right, I think, t avoid further loss of life, both among
ourselves and among the enemy, for many of them, as you know, are
Manyema, who only fight for the Arabs their masters, and would be
incapable of mischief without their leaders. I propose, therefore, to
invite Mustapha, the chief in command, to surrender."
Every member of the little council was absolutely averse to this
unexpected proposal. Msala declared that he had come to kill Arabs; he
would rather kill them in fair stand-up fight, but if they surrendered
he would kill them all the same, so that no bloodshed would be saved
among them at any rate.
"Msala," said Tom sternly, "you have ill learnt the lessons I have tried
to teach you. If the Arabs surrender they shall not escape altogether,
but they must not be killed. I should hand the leaders over to the
Congo Free State to be tried by its courts, like the court of justice in
our village, of which you are such an ornament, Msala. The rest of the
enemy I should allow to go free, but without firearms, and thus
incapable of doing further mischief."
The katikiro still raised objections, but Tom combated them one by one,
and at last brought all the officials to agree to his proposal.
Accordingly he called up Mboda, Mbutu’s brother, as one of the most
intelligent of the men with him, and sent him forward under a white flag
to the gate of the fort, with directions to ask for Mustapha himself,
and to deliver to him in form the summons to surrender. The messenger
returned in about half an hour. He had spoken with Mustapha, who was
accompanied by a little dark man with evil face. Mustapha had at first
refused to treat, but at De Castro’s request had at length agreed that a
meeting should take place between the opposing leaders half-way between
the camp and the fort. He proposed to come himself with two of his chief
men, all unarmed, and he invited Kuboko to do likewise. Mboda had only
just delivered this message when Mbutu broke in impetuously:
"Not go, sah," he said. "De Castro bad man; him come; him remember sah
knock him down; him no friend; him no speak good words. Mustapha too;
him tied; him berrah mad, oh yes! Not go, sah."
"Don’t be afraid, Mbutu. There is honour among thieves. They have
themselves proposed to come without arms. We shall merely have a talk,
and be done with it. Go back, Mboda, and say that I agree to the
proposal, and will meet Mustapha and his friends in an hour’s time
midway between our positions. Both sides, it is understood, will come
unarmed."
An hour later Tom set off to the meeting, accompanied by Mwonda, and by
Mboda as interpreter. He thought it well not to provoke the two hostile
chiefs unnecessarily by bringing Mbutu before them, and Mbutu, much
against his will, remained in the camp, his heart filled with misgiving.
To relieve him, Tom said, just before he started:
"You can keep a sharp look-out, Mbutu, and if you do see any open
movement of treachery, which for my part I do not expect, you will order
a company of men to fire, taking care not to hit me or my friends, you
know."
As he approached the meeting-place he saw three men issue from the gate
of the fort. He looked at them with interest. There was his old enemy
Mustapha, his opponent in single-handed fight, his captor, and his
victim. By his side, dwarfed by the Arab’s giant frame, was De Castro,
his red shirt and yellow breeches seeming all the more gaudy beside the
white robes of the Arabs. The third figure--it was with a start that
Tom recognized Mahmoud the hakim, who had befriended him to the utmost
of his power during his short captivity months before. The two little
groups met in the open field, and bowed ceremoniously, no outward sign
of recognition passing between Tom and the other side. Curiously
scanning the features of the Portuguese, Tom almost found it in his
heart to pity him. His face was lined and haggard, its expression was
fierce and darker than ever; the iron of disappointment and defeat had
evidently entered deep into his soul. He eyed Tom with an insolent and
malignant scowl, and kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Mustapha
was much more composed, preserving the impassivity so characteristic of
his race.
Tom wasted no time in preliminaries. He gave no explanation of his
presence there at the head of a great force of armed Bahima; he
courteously but plainly stated the terms he had come to
propose--unconditional surrender, the leaders to be placed in the hands
of the Free State Government, their followers to be disarmed and
dismissed. If these terms were not accepted the fort would be stormed.
Mustapha looked at him in silence for a moment; then his eyes flashed,
and he cried:
"You come to me to propose terms? You, my enemy! Know that you are in
my power. You will storm my fort? You shall never enter it alive. I
have waited for this day; my revenge has been long in coming, but it has
come at last. I fought you by the river; would to Allah I had slain
you! I kept you a captive and fed you; would that I had slain you then!
Now is the third time; you shall not escape me."
De Castro, who had ill concealed his impatience, here took a step
forward, spat upon the ground, and began to speak in broken English.
"I mock at you, I laugh at you, Inglese," he cried. "You dare threat
us? Who has the greater army, I like to know? You take the fort! Bah!
Is it a dog’s kennel? You talk to me, eh? I talk to you, so; I say,
you insolent puppy; you no take fort; no. You go back to your camp, and
in a little while our army will come to you and drive you into the
water. Bah, I spit at you!"
Tom paid no heed to the furious man’s insolence. He turned quietly
towards Mustapha, and with unruffled courtesy said:
"Have I your final answer?"
His manner evoked a corresponding politeness from the Arab, whose reply,
as translated by Mboda, was simply:
"I have sworn an oath. I will not surrender. I will fight you."
Tom decided to make one more appeal. Addressing the hakim, who had
stood hitherto gravely silent, he said in German:
"Mahmoud, my friend, cannot you persuade Mustapha, to abstain from a
hopeless contest? You have all heard of my success till now. You,
surely, do not doubt that I shall succeed again? You yourself were kind
to me; I should be deeply grieved if, during the struggle that seems
inevitable, any harm came to you. Will you not induce your chief to
give way?"
The stately hakim looked with kindly eyes upon the young Englishman,
whose earnest and friendly tone had touched him. Then he shook his
head.
"I am an Arab," he said. "Whether we win or lose, whether we live or
die, all rests with Allah. I am Mustapha’s man."
"I am sorry," replied Tom, and was about to take leave when De Castro
said suddenly:
"You speak French?"
"Yes."
Then, speaking rapidly in that language, De Castro suggested that Tom
should give him a safe-conduct for himself and his property. In that
case he promised to deliver up the fort; he cared nothing, he said, what
then became of the Arabs. Tom looked at the traitor with silent scorn.
The Portuguese quailed for a moment; then, his face livid with rage and
mortification, he glared at Tom’s accusing face, and burst out in
Swahili, clearly for the benefit of Mustapha, who was looking at him
with suspicion:
"Have you your answer, puppy? Will you go? To-morrow I will have you
in the fort, tied to a post, and you shall not escape me again. Now I
make you my bow."
With a low mocking inclination he turned away. Tom bowed to the Arabs,
and also turned. At that instant De Castro wheeled round, whipped a
revolver from his pocket, and fired point-blank at Tom. The shot
missed, but struck Mwonda, immediately in front of Tom, and wounded him
in the shoulder. The giant turned round with a roar like a bull’s, and
sprang towards his treacherous assailant. De Castro pointed his
revolver again at Tom; the bullet whistled past his ear. Cursing his
ill-luck, the Portuguese turned just in time to elude the raised arm of
Mwonda, and at that moment a volley rang out from the camp; one of the
bullets sped past Tom and hit De Castro’s left arm. The revolver fell
from his right hand, and with a howl of agony and rage he bolted up the
field into the fort. Mustapha disdained to run; he walked back in his
stately way, and escaped. The hakim was not so fortunate. As he was
returning to the fort, a little behind Mustapha, he was shot through the
back, and fell. Tom sprang to the fallen man, and at the same moment
Mbutu, at the head of a hundred musketeers, came running out of the camp
in desperate fear for his master’s safety. Tom reached the hakim,
lifted him in his arms, carried him a few steps, called Mboda to assist
him, and hurried with the heavy burden towards his own camp just as a
volley flashed from the fort. The shots were hasty and ill-directed,
and, covered by Mbutu’s company, who halted and poured a steady fire
towards the fort, Tom and his two companions safely reached the shelter
of their entrenchments, and, panting with their exertions, laid the
unconscious hakim on the ground. Mbutu returned with his men
immediately afterwards, the whole incident having occupied little more
than a minute. Tom had much trouble in restraining his infuriated
troops from rushing upon the fort without further delay.
"Wait, my men," he cried; "they shall pay to-morrow." And he turned to
examine the hakim’s wound.
Mahmoud died at dawn, having recovered consciousness for but one brief
moment, during which he pressed Tom’s hand, smiled at him with the same
grave, wise smile, and murmured: "It is the will of Allah; all is well."
Tom buried him on a little hillock at the lake side. Then he set about
his preparations for the final struggle, with a fierceness foreign to
his nature. His heart was filled with bitter resentment against the
dastard whose treachery had brought unnecessary death upon an innocent
man. "Within twenty-four hours it shall be finished," he said to
himself with grim resolution.
He did not underrate the difficulty of the task before him. From the
number of canoes that had met him on the lake, and the number of men in
them, he calculated that the garrison in the fort amounted to at least a
thousand men. The five hundred left by Rumaliza had been increased by
fugitives from his own and from De Castro’s force, and further by a
completely equipped force of two hundred and fifty men who had returned,
a few days before Tom’s arrival, from an expedition northwards. With
such a garrison, and the advantage of a strong position behind a glacis
which could be swept from end to end by rifle fire, the fort was
obviously secure against direct attack with a force of only eleven
hundred and fifty men. Investment, again, would not only be a very
protracted affair, but was likely to fail, for the Arabs were no doubt
well provisioned, while Tom had only a scanty stock of food. If they
could have been deprived of water a siege would soon terminate, but Tom
had learned from the prisoners that a constant supply was obtained from
a deep well within the fort. The only method left was a night-attack,
and after his previous experience De Castro would unquestionably be on
his guard against surprise. Still, it seemed the only possible course,
and Tom, after breakfast, sat down to think out the points involved.
The most common danger attending a night-attack--the risk of losing the
way and stumbling on the enemy unawares--was absent. Further, the
attackers could approach the palisade under cover of darkness with less
risk of suffering serious loss by rifle fire than if the assault were
made by daylight. By making feints in two or three quarters Tom could
throw his main force in overwhelming strength on the real point of
attack. And, last consideration of all, the Arabs had an inveterate
repugnance to fighting by night, whereas his own troops had by repeated
successes gained confidence in this respect. The only great
disadvantage was that, unfamiliar as he was with the interior of the
fort, he could not be sure in the darkness of directing the attack
towards the most vulnerable points; but this drawback might be
neutralized by a simple means he had at hand.
A night-attack was therefore decided on. Tom prayed that the night
might be dark. He called up one of the prisoners, and made him draw a
rough plan of the fort on a leaf torn from his pocket-book. Then he
sent one of the redoubts to the mainland to fetch further stores and to
bring back a number of carriers with knives and axes. When these
arrived he set them to work in cutting a path through the bush on the
east side of the island in order that his troops might move rapidly from
place to place without being seen. While the carriers were engaged in
this task a sudden shout from the south apprised him that something was
happening in that quarter. In a few moments a messenger came up with
the news that the enemy had made a sortie from the south gate with the
evident intention of capturing the canoes, and had driven back the post
placed between the plantations and the belt of copse. But this move had
been already provided against. When the Arabs reached the shore they
saw, to their chagrin, that the canoes lay two hundred yards out on the
lake, under the protection of one of the floating forts. Tom sent three
hundred men under the kasegara to intercept the enemy as they returned.
The Bahima placed themselves just within the copse in a line parallel to
the path leading to the gate, and poured in a hot fire at the Arabs as
they hastened back. Mustapha, in the fort, was on the alert; he threw
out a large force to cover the retreat of his men, and but for this it
seemed likely that the sortie-party would have been cut off from their
base and annihilated. As it was, they lost heavily, and no similar
organized attempt was made during the rest of the day, though occasional
shots were fired from the fort as if to show that the enemy was not
napping.
Taking advantage of the freedom from serious interference, Tom devoted
himself to his plan of operations. He decided that the real attack
should be made, not from his camp, east of the fort, as the Arabs would
no doubt expect, but from the south. The katikiro with two hundred men
would make a feigned attack from a point north of the fort, and the
kasegara with another two hundred would demonstrate vigorously against
the east. Each of these feigned attacks would be accompanied with heavy
rifle-fire, and, while they were in progress, Tom himself would lead a
strong force against the southern portion of the palisade, from which he
expected that most of the defenders would have been drawn off towards
the apparent danger north and east.
At nightfall, then, Tom called his officers together and explained his
plans. He was somewhat surprised to see Mwonda among them, for the
giant had been badly wounded in the right shoulder. He was still more
surprised to learn that the heroic negro had got a companion to cut the
bullet out of his flesh, and had borne the terrible pain without so much
as a groan. He came now, with his right shoulder bound up, and his
musket in his left hand, determined to wreak vengeance in person for the
treacherous blow dealt him.
"You are a brave fellow, Mwonda," said Tom. "You shall be in command of
the northern force, and the katikiro shall stay with me. The kasegara
will attack first, on the east, when I send him word, an hour before
dawn. When you hear his rifles in play, Mwonda, you will make a sham
attack on the north gate. Understand, you are both to keep up a heavy
fire, and shout as loud as you like; but you are not to make a real
attack until you get orders from me."
Since his arrival on the island Tom had taken no pains to preserve
silence in the camp, and on this night he ordered companies of a hundred
men, in addition to the usual sentries, to be kept awake in turn, each
for an hour, so that their chatter might delude the enemy and cover up
any sounds made by his troops as they moved to their positions. Two
hours before dawn the movements began. Mwonda led his men northwards,
being instructed to march as silently as possible. Tom, accompanied by
Mbutu and Msala, went southwards with seven hundred men, leaving the
kasegara in charge of the camp with orders to keep his men talking until
he received the signal for beginning the sham attack. With Tom’s men
went fifty carriers with scaling-ladders, and before starting he ordered
one man in five to take a fire-ball in addition to his gun or pike.
When they reached the position he had decided on, he briefly explained
what they were to do. Then he turned to Mbutu and the katikiro and said
quietly:
"If I fall, press home the attack with all your might. The men will
follow you if you only show them strong leadership. And, Mbutu, when the
fight is over, if I am not alive, I trust to you to make your way to
Kisumu, and tell my uncle, if he is there, or the English commander if
he is not, all that has happened to me. That is my last request."
Then he sent a messenger to the kasegara. Ten minutes later a sharp
volley was heard in the direction of the camp, accompanied by savage
yells. Immediately afterwards shouts and the crackle of rifles were
heard, less distinctly, from the north.
"My men," said Tom, "now is our turn. Go quietly through the copse,
make a rush to the foot of the slope; scramble up, on hands and knees if
you must, and make for the palisade. No firing, mind; nothing but
bayonets and pikes at first. Don’t fire till I give the word. Now,
advance!"
Two hundred men being left in reserve, Tom’s little force consisted of
five hundred musketeers and pikemen, and the fifty carriers with the
scaling-ladders. These latter held the ladders in front of them as a
partial protection from rifle fire. The whole force moved quickly
through the woodland, gained the bottom of the glacis with a rush, and
began the ascent. The front ranks were half-way up before their presence
was discovered. Then a brisk fusillade broke out from the fort, and
several men fell. The rest threw themselves on their hands and knees,
and finished the ascent at a scramble. The point made for was a few
yards to the left of the gateway. While the bullets were flying
erratically over the palisade, the carriers placed their ladders against
it, and as, owing to the slope, they stood somewhat insecurely, Tom
ordered four men to hold each while the rest mounted. In hardly more
than a minute a hundred men were within the palisade, to find themselves
exposed to cross-fires from the gate and from a line of fencing thrown
across from the inner stockade to the outer, thus dividing the space
between them into compartments. But faster than the gaps were made they
were filled by fresh men swarming over the fencing. Tom was over among
the first. He ordered some of the ladders to be hauled across and
planted against the inner palisade, now more strongly defended by
reinforcements which the first alarm had drawn from north and east. The
Arabs were firing not only over the palisade, but through loopholes in
it. Luckily the invaders had already spread, so that there were no
close ranks to be decimated by the fusillade, and in the darkness and
the flurry the defenders’ fire was necessarily ill-aimed.
"Light fire-balls!" cried Tom in a clear voice. In half a minute twenty
flaming balls whizzed through the air and over the inner stockade,
lighting up the interior of the fort with its huts and tents, and
showing the loopholes in the fencing. These became the target for Tom’s
best marksmen as he now at last gave the order to fire. Bullets flew
fast; war-cries seemed to split the air; the defenders were already
verging on panic. Some were making desperate attempts to extinguish the
fire-balls, only to become the marks for more of those flaming missiles.
A hut was already alight, and Tom’s men were now swarming almost
unchecked over the palisade. A few fire-balls had speedily cleared out
the enemy from the cross fence, and this position was immediately
occupied by the Bahima. The katikiro, at Tom’s orders, had led a party
of men with scaling-ladders to the left along the enclosure between the
palisades to a point opposite the eastern gate, and cries from that
quarter told that a position had been occupied there. Thus in less than
half an hour three positions were held by the attackers. Several huts
in the interior of the fort were in flames, and the defenders were
rushing hither and thither, exposed to destructive rifle-fire from their
own palisades.
Tom had already sent instructions to the kasegara and Mwonda to cease
their demonstrations as soon as they saw a strong light in the fort, and
to move towards each other and join forces. When the junction was made,
and as soon as carriers with scaling-ladders arrived, they were to make
a vigorous attack in real earnest at a point midway between their former
positions, that is, from the north-east. Profiting by the respite from
attack on the north and east, Mustapha and De Castro, who had given
their orders hitherto from the very centre of the fort, now began to get
their men into some sort of order, rallying them around Rumaliza’s
house. Hardly had this been done when a great din to the north-east
announced that an assault was commencing there.
"Over into the fort, men!" cried Tom as soon as he heard the welcome
sound. Up they clambered, up the ladders already planted against the
inner palisade, up and over, hundreds of eager men pouring into the
enclosure, no obstacle now between them and their enemy. Brought to
bay, the Arabs fought desperately, dodging behind huts, seizing every
point of vantage, knowing well that their former victims would spare
none of them. Many of their dwellings were now ablaze, and in the
brilliant illumination scores of the Manyema could be seen using the
Bahima’s scaling-ladders to escape over the palisades into the darkness.
The Arabs themselves held their ground more stubbornly, but their
enemies were now closing all round them. The attackers under Mwonda had
met with but feeble resistance, for the majority of the defenders at the
north-east had been withdrawn to withstand the earlier attack from the
south. Mwonda himself, whose bellow could be heard above all other
noises, plunged along at the head of his men, swinging his heavy musket,
disdaining the few bullets that fell around him, and searching
everywhere for the wretch who had shot him when he was unarmed.
As the space between the stockades filled with the exultant Bahima,
hundreds of the enemy flung down their arms and begged for mercy.
"Spare all who surrender!" shouted Tom, and the order was repeated
through the ranks of his men. Some of the enemy, however, scorning to
yield, fought with the courage of despair to the bitter end, and were
shot down or speared after they had themselves done great execution on
the now crowded ranks of their assailants. Tom had several times caught
sight of Mustapha moving about among his men, but not once had De Castro
been visible. The centre of the fortress was occupied by a range of
buildings of more solid construction than the huts nearer the stockade.
It was Rumaliza’s own house, a substantial stone structure of two
stories, with a veranda running around the upper story, obviously an
effort after comfort amid savage surroundings, and modelled on the
residences of merchants on the coast. Tom, joined by Mwonda, and
accompanied by Mbutu and the katikiro, led a small force of Bahima
towards this building, in which he conjectured that some of the enemy,
perhaps De Castro himself, had taken refuge. The walls were loopholed,
and from these, as well as from the veranda, a hot fire met the little
group. Two of the men fell. The door was of stout oak.
"We must burst it in," said Tom. "Find a stout beam, Mbutu. Quick!"
Mbutu darted away, and soon returned with three men hauling a massive
beam, obtained by cutting down the post supporting the roof of a
neighbouring hut. Just as they reached the door one of the three men
was shot through the heart, and a bullet from above struck Tom in the
thigh.
"I’m hit, Mbutu," he said. "Bind this strip of linen tightly round my
leg; there’s the place."
"Come away, sah, come away!" cried Mbutu pleadingly.
"Not yet. This door must come down first. Msala, batter the door in.
Come, lift the battering-ram, men! Now then, one, two, three--that’s
it! The door’s started. Now again, one, two, three! Ah! it’s down.
In you go, men! I’m coming!"
As the door fell in with a crash, the party of twenty men poured in, Tom
limping painfully after them. There was no resistance; the room was
empty.
"Up the stairs!" cried Tom. "Don’t waste a minute!"
Mwonda was already springing up the ladder in the corner of the room,
taking three steps at a time. In twenty seconds he came tumbling back
into the room, yelling that the upper floor also was empty. At that
moment there was a shout from the rear of the house. Bushing out, the
Bahima found themselves in a sort of yard. The gate was open, and
beyond were evidently outhouses and store-rooms. At one side of the
yard was a man chained to a post, and yelling with all his might. By
the feeble light from the now diminishing conflagration outside, Tom as
he hastened up recognized Herr Schwab. The recognition was mutual.
"Out, out!" cried the German. "Zey are outside."
"Cut him loose," cried Tom to one of his men as he passed by, heedless
of further cries from the German.
Mwonda and Msala were already in the narrow lane beyond the yard. There
was no sign of the enemy.
"After them!" cried Tom. "Don’t wait for me; I’ll follow as quickly as
I can."
The little band swept on, out of the lane, past the outhouses, into the
open ground again. There they learnt that some twelve men had suddenly
dashed out into the open, headed by Mustapha and the "small devil", as
the Bahima called De Castro. The Arabs had rushed across towards the
western part of the palisade, burst open a gate which had hitherto
escaped the notice of the attackers, and clambered over the outer
stockade. Six of their number were shot as they mounted, but the rest
succeeded in getting clear away and disappeared.
Hearing this, Mwonda dashed in hot pursuit with his party. But though,
utterly regardless of their own safety, they ran madly down the glacis,
into the copse, through the plantation, down to the shore, they saw no
trace of the enemy, who, knowing the ground perfectly, had made good
their escape. Mbutu had hurried after the pursuers at Tom’s command, and
ordered them to waste no time in searching. Tom was himself unable to
walk farther than the stockade, where he met them as they returned, and,
learning that they had failed to find the fugitives, he instantly
instructed Mbutu to hurry down to the landing-place and order ten canoes
to be manned and to patrol round the island.
"Let them go in opposite directions, and watch every yard of the shore,"
he said. "I will come myself immediately."
The sky was now lightening with the dawn. Tom ordered four of his men
to carry him down to the landing-place on one of the scaling-ladders.
His wound was giving him intense pain, but feeling that if Mustapha, and
above all De Castro, escaped, his victory would be shorn of half of its
glory, and his work be left incomplete, he resolved that at whatever
cost he would personally direct the search for the fugitives. While he
was being carried to the shore he ordered the katikiro to despatch
parties into every corner of the island to search the woods thoroughly.
Just as he arrived at the landing-place, Mbutu came hastily to his side,
and declared that he had that instant seen a small canoe stealing
westward. It was now half a mile from the shore.
"Put me into one of the Arab canoes," said Tom; "the lightest you can
find to hold twenty paddlers. Order two other canoes to follow."
A few minutes later his canoe was being rapidly propelled in the
direction of the chase, which Tom could now see was manned by a crew of
six, and had one man in the stern who was not paddling and who had a
bandage on one arm.
"Paddle your hardest, men," cried Tom; "that is our arch enemy."
The negroes responded vigorously, and it was soon evident that the chase
was being gradually overhauled. The crew of six were straining every
nerve to escape, and every now and then the man in the stern turned his
head to look at the pursuing craft, and then cried aloud to his men to
increase their efforts. Tom fixed his eyes unswervingly on the stern of
the fleeing canoe.
"It is De Castro unmistakeably," he said to himself, as the man turned
once more. The expression of mingled despair, rage, and fright on his
face was fearful to behold. Suddenly he turned completely round, leant
over the stern of the canoe, and took aim with his rifle at the canoe
now so rapidly overtaking him. The bullet whizzed past Tom’s ear. Tom
looked round for a weapon with which to return the fire, but saw that
not one of his crew was armed with a musket, so great had been the haste
of the embarkation. But from the first of the other pursuing canoes,
now close up to Tom’s, a shot rang out. It struck the side of De
Castro’s canoe. The Portuguese took aim again, and this time the bullet
struck one of Tom’s men, who screamed and dropped his paddle. A rain of
bullets from the other canoes fell around the fugitive, but he seemed to
bear a charmed life.
"He is a devil," said one of Tom’s men; "shots cannot hurt him."
Suddenly Tom observed a commotion among the six Arabs. A man that looked
like Mustapha rose in the boat, raised his paddle above his head, and,
just as De Castro was about to fire a third time, brought it down with
tremendous force upon his unsuspecting head. He was leaning forward
over the stern; his head fell on the edge, and in an instant the Arab
had caught his legs and thrown him over into the water. He sank like a
stone, and a dark circle formed in the frothing wash of the canoe.
Within two minutes Tom’s canoe arrived at the scene of the tragedy, but
there was no sign of the victim. Tom stopped the canoe, to cruise round
on the chance of De Castro reappearing. The other canoes stopped also,
and loud cries of satisfaction rose from their crews. But when after a
minute or two it became evident that the Portuguese would be seen no
more, Mwonda uttered a yell of rage at his being thus snatched from
personal vengeance. Tom meanwhile had ordered two canoes to continue
the chase after the Arabs; but their craft, lightened by the loss of De
Castro, was bounding over the water, the paddlers profiting by the
temporary cessation of the pursuit. The Bahima paddled hard, and called
to the crew of one of the patrol-canoes approaching from the north to
join in the chase. But their efforts were vain. The fugitives gained
the western shore, ran the canoe between two banks of reeds, and plunged
into cover before the pursuers could overtake them. Mwonda dropped his
head on his sound arm, and burst into tears. Then, lifting his huge
body, and standing to his full height in the canoe, he passionately
called upon all the evil spirits of his tribe by name, and adjured them
to shrivel up the escaped Arabs with their blighting influence, and to
inflict upon them tortures unspeakable until they were dead. Then the
canoes were put about. Mwonda uttered one more bitter malediction as he
passed over the spot where De Castro had sunk, and was still bemoaning
his ill-luck when he overtook his victorious but weary and fainting
master.