TROUBLE BREWING
That was the story of Muata!
The white boys looked and wondered. This man who had been through so
many dangers could not be much older than they were. If his story
were true, he had shown endurance, courage, and a force of character
that set the stamp of greatness upon him as greatness would be
reckoned among his kind.
Was it true that he had slain a gorilla with bow and arrow, that he
warred successfully against the Arab slave-hunters? Had he subdued a
band of men by sheer force of will?
The boys believed him. They did not stop to ask whether the story
was probable. They formed their opinion upon the manner of the
young chief--upon his grave dignity, and upon the absence of a
boastful spirit.
"If his story is true," said Mr. Hume, "he owes much to his mother."
"Where is your mother?" asked Compton.
"The chief's wife is not a woman," said Muata. "And yet she is a
woman. She beguiled them in the forest by pretence of great
submission and fear of the woods. So they trusted her to bring
firewood, believing she would not go far from the camp. But she was
watching for sign of the little people. This I know, for she
vanished in the woods near the river. And the yellow hunters of men
knew not how she had gone; but they left word to people by the river
to say to me that my mother had been carried away in a canoe."
"And what will you do now?"
"See, I am no one--a liver on kindness, a slave at the gate. But in
time Muata will return to the place of hiding."
"Better stay with us, Muata. We go into the forest ourselves. We
will give you food, and teach you how to use the weapon of the Arab
hunters. You will hunt for us, work in the canoe for us, and, maybe,
we will go with you to your hiding-place."
"The forest is dark and terrible. Why, will my father enter the
darkness with his sons?"
"We go to hunt, and for the love of the woods and the water. Has not
a hunter joy in the hunting?"
"I know it;" and the chief observed them intently, as if he were
unpersuaded. "The ways of white men are strange. Muata hunts to keep
the hut supplied with meat, but the white man carries his meat with
him. When he kills he leaves the meat and takes only the horns or
the skin of the thing he has slain. Muata is not a child. When he
sees a single vulture in the sky, he knows there are others coming
behind. A white man comes out of the beyond into the black man's
country. He is soft-spoken; he is a hunter only. Mawoh! and behind
him comes an army."
"What do you know about white men, Muata?"
"The wise men at the hiding-place talked. They knew one such. He
lived among them. His ways were strange. He talked with the trees;
he sought among the rocks; he communed with spirits. He was
harmless, but the wise men said others would follow on his trail
doing mischief. So I ask, my father, why do you wish to enter the
forest?"
"Because," said Compton, leaning forward, "my father was lost in the
forest, and I would find him. Tell me, where is the white man your
old men talked of?"
"The forest takes, the forest keeps," said Muata, lifting a hand
solemnly.
"Do you mean," asked the boy, quietly, "that the white man does not
live?"
"The people dealt well by their white man. They gave him food; they
carried water for him, and built his fire. Even I, as a child,
carried wood to him and listened at his knees."
"I am not blaming the people; but I want to find the place that is
called the Place of Rest, where my father lived; perhaps where he
died."
"This, then, is the hunting?" said the chief, softly.
Mr. Hume recognized the suspicion in the altered tone and suave
manner of the chief.
"We have spoken," he said sharply. "We go into the forest to hunt
and to seek without anger against any. We thought you would have
worked in well with us; but I see you are a man of a crooked mind."
"Softly, my father," said the chief, quietly. "Is it wise that a
chief should listen to the counsel of strangers without taking
thought for his people?"
"We saved the chief's life."
"The chiefs life is his own"--Muata snapped his fingers--"but the
secret of the hiding-place is the life of the people. Go slowly, my
father. Muata would work for you and with you; his shield is your
shield; his eye is your eye; but the secret of the hiding-place is
not his to give away."
"Then you must land here on the bank among your enemies."
The chief glanced at the far-off wooded banks, with lines of smoke
rising from cooking-fires.
"I have no weapons," he said.
"We cannot help that," said Mr. Hume, with indifference. "Either
you agree to take us to the Place of Rest, or you land."
Muata rose up, looked under the flat of his hand all around, then
let the cotton sheet they had given him slip to the deck. The jackal
started up, with his ears pricked and his eyes fixed on his master's
face. The chief caught hold of a wire rope and jumped on to the
rail, where he steadied himself.
"What will you do?" asked Mr. Hume.
Muata turned round and pointed to the otter on his chest.
"You don't mean to say," said Venning, indignantly, "that you are
going to let him swim ashore? Why, the bank is miles away, and the
crocodiles are in between."
Muata's glance fell on the jackal, and he spoke to it. The animal
whined, then crouched.
"A favour, my father," he said. "If the beast followed me, he would
be food for the crocodiles. Place him on land when you reach the
bank, for the sake of good hunting."
"I will do so."
The chief took another long glance around, then drew himself up for
the dive.
"Stop," said Mr. Hume.
Muata looked round.
"Your shield is our shield. So be it. We will not ask you to lead us
to your hiding-place. Is that so, Compton?"
"When he leads us," said Compton, nodding his head, "it will be at
his own will."
"At any rate," muttered Venning, "he has proved himself to be a man;
but I wonder if he would have reached the shore?"
As he spoke the jackal howled, and the chief, who was still standing
on the rail, slipped and fell with a splash. They ran to the side,
and the jackal, with another howl, sprang to the rail and thence
into the river, where a second or two later it was in the troubled
wake of the steamer, beating frantically with its fore paws.
"Man overboard!" shouted Mr. Hume. "Stand by with a rope."
But the Belgian skipper on the little bridge held to his course,
while a small knot of coloured passengers aft stood laughing and
chattering.
"Stop her, you swab," cried Mr. Hume; then, as the man took no
notice, he ran to the wheel, thrust aside the steersman, and jammed
the wheel over.
The displaced man, with an oath, flung himself at the hunter with
the sympathy of the passengers, who, ceasing their laughter,
advanced with menacing cries.
Before the boys had time to comprehend the situation, Mr. Hume
settled the matter out of hand. Letting go the wheel, he caught his
assailant by the waistband, and with a heave flung him overboard.
Then with a quick right and left he sent two of the others reeling.
"Now," he roared at the skipper, "back her, or by the Lord I'll
fling you in as well."
"Fetch the rifles," said Compton to Venning.
A moment later the two boys stood at the ready with their rifles,
and amid a babel of cries the skipper signaled "Stop her." The
steamer slowed up, swung gently round, and shaped back to where
three dark spots showed.
"There are four," cried Venning, at his first swift glance; "and one
is a crocodile. It is making for the jackal."
"Take the wheel, Compton," said Mr. Hume, quite calm again. "Give me
your gun, Venning."
The hunter, with the gun, went to the side and looked over. Nearest
him was the man he had thrown overboard; beyond was the jackal,
making a great splashing; and further on was the face of Muata, who
was crying out encouragement to his faithful companion as he swam
swiftly towards it; and to the left, moving rapidly towards the
jackal, was the crocodile, swimming in a great swirl, with only his
eyes showing, and the end of his snout. The hunter steadied himself
with a shoulder against a stanchion, and then, without hurry or
excitement, and after a look round the deck at the people, to see if
there was any further mischief brewing, took deliberate aim and
fired.
A shout went up, and the very people who had a minute before been so
hostile, now were abject in their praise of Mr. Hume, for the
crocodile span round and round in answer to the shot.
"Stand by with a rope, Mr. Compton," cried the hunter, taking
command as if by right; and Compton obeyed promptly, but without
excitement.
The first man caught the line and swarmed up wet, but subdued in
spirit, casting an appealing glance at his late assailant. Muata, in
the mean time, reached the half-drowned jackal, held it by the
scruff of the neck with one hand, and, turning over on his back,
waited for the rope. This flung and seized, he also climbed on
board, but there was nothing abject in his appearance. Standing with
his head thrown back and his nostrils quivering, he glared a moment
at the group of natives; then, seizing a bar of iron, he made a
bound forward, uttering a wild war-whoop.
There would have been bloodshed had not Mr. Hume, with surprising
quietness, flung himself forward and seized the chief round the
waist.
Compton, cool and ready, wrenched the bar away; and, seeing this,
the natives plucked up spirit, calling on the white man to throw the
"black dog" to the crocodiles, which had been attracted by the blood
of their wounded fellow, still beating the water in his flurry.
Venning, however, stepped between with his rifle, and the uproar
ceased once more.
"Now," said Mr. Hume, holding the chief by his arm, "what does this
mean? What harm have those men done you?"
"My father has the lion's grip. Mawoh! Muata was a babe in his
arms."
"That may be, but it is no answer."
"What harm! Did not my father hear the jackal give tongue?"
"I heard; and those jackals there"--indicating the watching group--
"yelped at me, so that I flung one into the water. But--what then?
Do you seek to slay when your beast howls?"
"My father does not know, then."
"I want to know, for it seems to me you were all mad together."
"Ohe! it is the madness that slays. Ask of those mudfish there for
news of the man who stood behind them to slay Muata, who had the gun
aimed to shoot when Muata leapt into the water. Ask them, and they
will lie."
"What manner of man was this?"
"One of those who hound me in the canoe--even one of the man-hunters
who seized my mother."
Mr. Hume looked at the boys. "Did either of you see an Arab on
board? Muata says a man was about to fire at him when he sprang
overboard."
"I thought he fell," said Compton. "I saw no one with a gun."
"Nor I," said Venning; "but the Arab may have gone below."
Mr. Hume hailed the captain. "My man said an attempt was made on his
life. Have you taken an Arab onboard?"
"I have some mad English on board," said the captain, gruffly; "and
I will see they do not stay on longer than I can help."
"As to that we will see."
The captain nodded his head and signaled full speed ahead, turning
his back on the Englishman.
"I think we can manage the lot," said Compton, coolly.
Mr. Hume laughed. "Perhaps so; but it would be very awkward to be
detained at the next station as prisoners, or to be sent back. We
must let the matter slide."
"Shall we search the ship, sir?"
Mr. Hume shook his head. "Suppose we found some suspicious
passenger. What then? There was no actual attempt on Muata, and we
have only his word; besides"--and he glanced at the angry captain--
"there is no need to look for trouble--it will come."
He was right. At the next station, reached within a few hours, the
captain lodged a complaint to the authorities in the persons of the
Belgian officials, who were evidently charmed with the opportunity
of teaching the Englishmen a lesson.
First of all, they placed Muata in chains straight away on their
finding that he was a dangerous person. When Mr. Hume protested,
they placed him under restraint; and that done, they pronounced
judgment. The English would pay a fine of Pounds 100, surrender
their weapons, and return to Banana Point by the next steamer down.
"Is that all?"
"That is all. But stay. As you will be possibly detained a
fortnight, there would be a charge for maintenance."
"Be good enough," said Mr. Hume, producing a document, "to read
that paper. It is a passport from the President of the Congo State--
your king--authorizing Mr. Hume and party to proceed with his
servants by land or water anywhere within the State for purposes of
exploration."
The officers examined the document with sour faces, and one of them
made an observation in a low tone.
"Precisely," said the other. "This document," he remarked, turning
to Mr. Hume, "is not in order. It has not been visaed by the
officers at the sub-stations."
"But it was initialed by your superior at the coast."
"It must go back to the sub-stations for endorsement."
Mr. Hume put a restraint on his temper. "And how long will that
take?"
"Who knows? Perhaps a month."
"And in the mean time?"
"In the mean time, m'sieur, you will remain our guests."
"Is there no other way?"
"Monsieur must surrender himself to the unpleasant delay. There is
no other way." "Unless--but m'sieur would not perhaps face the
expense."
"Explain, gentlemen."
"There is a special transport for State business, but to call upon
the service for other than State purpose there would be a charge of
ten pounds per day."
"I see." Mr. Hume saw that these gentlemen wished to make money out
of him. "Very good. I will myself go to the sub-stations by your
special transport, and if the Governor says the charge is
reasonable, I will pay on my return. I think that will meet the
matter."
But it did not at all meet the matter, and the junior officer at
once informed his senior that unhappily the special transport had
that very morning developed a leak in the boiler.
There followed an embarrassing delay. The authorities waited for Mr.
Hume to make a business-like proposal, but the hunter remained
grimly silent. The two officers whispered.
"Observe, m'sieur," said the senior, clearing his throat, "my
colleague suggests a middle way. If you will place sum demanded by
the State in these cases, in the nature of a surety for good faith,
we may permit you and your friends to proceed."
"My servant also?"
"Your servant?"
"The man you have bound."
"Ohe! Pardon, m'sieur; you are not aware that he is an offender
against the laws--a notorious criminal. He will be detained and
tried."
"I will remain to attend his trial, unless a sum will secure his
freedom also?"
"There is a price on his bead."
"Offered by the slave-hunters?"
The shot went home. The officers had been hand in glove with the
lawless traders, but they did not want the matter bruited about by
meddlesome Englishmen. They scowled.
"He has broken the peace," said the senior, sharply; "he has slain
the servants of the State. Am I to understand that you claim to be
his master, responsible for his conduct?"
"No, m'sieur," exclaimed the hunter, quickly, fearing he had gone
too far, and shifting his ground. "The man is a stranger; do with
him as you please; but as for us, since we are here, we will, with
your permission, make the place our headquarters. We could not be in
better hands."
"You wish to wait for another steamer while your passports are
visaed?"
"We will proceed in our own boat, which we would put together."
"Ah, you have a little boat?"
"A very small boat, m'sieur, with barely room for four men. We
should be honoured to have your opinion on its qualities, and also
upon our stores and their suitability."
Venning looked at Mr. Hume with puzzled eyes. He could not
understand his callous abandonment of Muata.
"But," he began, "we cannot----"
"I think it is an excellent place," said Compton, quickly; "and
perhaps these gentlemen would be good enough to assist us with
advice out of their great experience."
"We should be delighted," said Mr. Hume, politely.
The senior officer stroked his huge moustache with an air of renewed
importance.
"There are two spare rooms in my little house," murmured the junior--
"one for the stores, the other for sleeping quarters."
"It is understood," said Mr. Hume, "that we pay rent, and also that
we pay for the protection you may afford us. I insist on that,
messieurs."
The senior nodded a dignified assent, but he was not quite won over,
and retired to his quarters, while his junior inspected the landing
of the goods, including the sections of the boat. In the afternoon,
however, after his nap, the senior succumbed to the influence of a
good cigar, and condescended to sample some of the stores. He was
even pleased to crack a few jokes over the novel machinery for
working the screw of the Okapi by levers, and in the evening he
invited Mr. Hume to a friendly game of cards, thoughtfully including
in his invitation a bottle of brandy and a box of cigars, for, said
he, he wished to wash out the execrable taste of the everlasting
manioc.
All the day Muata stood bound to a post in the square, the central
figure of a ring of squatting natives, who chewed manioc and
discussed his approaching fate with much satisfaction.
He was there, an erect, stoical figure, when the boys sought their
room in the little thatched house--a room bare of furniture, divided
from the next compartment by hanging mats of native make.
"It's a beastly shame," said Venning, for about the fourth time, as
he stared out at the black faces reflected in the blazing log-fires.
"What is a shame?" asked Compton, who was inspecting the partition
before seeking his hammock.
"You know well enough. Not a soul stands by the chief; even his
jackal bolted as soon as he jumped ashore."
"Because Muata ordered him. He is probably watching from the dark."
"All the worse for us, then. I never thought Mr. Hume would have
knuckled down so easily. Hark at him shouting over the game."
"What is the game, do you think?"
"Cards," snorted Venning, in disgust.
"So! Queer sort of partition this;" and Compton moved the mat aside.
"No need for doors, you see. Hulloa! Who are you?"
"Me Zanzibar boy, master," exclaimed a soft, oily voice.
"Then clear out."
"Me put here watch my master--see black fellows no steal."
"Oh, I see. Chuck a cake of tobacco, Venning. Here! You like that?"
"Ver good," said the boy, reaching out a yellow hand for the
tobacco.
Venning crossed over and peered into the other room. "You boy," he
said, "tell me, what will they do to Muata?"
The Zanzibari chuckled. "You want know, eh?"
"We don't care. One black fellow does not matter," said Compton,
coolly.
"You brute!" muttered Venning, but stopped as Compton's hand gripped
him.
The Zanzibari chuckled again. "What you give, eh, if cut loose that
Muata?"
"What do you say?"
"You pay me? Good. In night Muata is loose. He run up river. Bymby
master go along in little boat, pick Muata up, eh? What you pay?"
and the boy chuckled softly.
"Suppose I tell your white master, you rascal?"
"Wow! You tell, they kill poor Zanzibar boy."
"Then clear out," said Compton, launching a kick; "and if I see any
more of you I will tell."
The boy turned sulky. "Me guard--me stay."
"You go," said Compton, "or I will call your masters, and let them
deal with you."
Growling under his breath, the self-styled "guard" slunk soft-footed
out of the room. Compton struck a match and looked around the
apartment, then turned to Venning with a grin.
"That is the game," he whispered.
"I think I understand," Venning replied softly. "That fellow was
testing you?"
Compton nodded.
"And you think Mr. Hume has not forgotten Muata?"
"I am sure he has not."
They crept into their hammocks, but not to sleep, and they were wide
awake when Mr. Hume entered noisily some two hours later.
"To-morrow night," he shouted boisterously.
"With pleasure, and the night after, for good visitors are rare,"
called the Belgian.
"And good hosts also. Touching those two men you promised as the
crew for my boat?"
"They will be here to-morrow evening," said the senior officer,
thrusting a head round the mat. "Ah, you are comfortable, eh? Yes, I
sent a messenger to Hassan's camp by the vessel which brought you.
Rest well."
"They are good fellows, these Arabs," said Mr. Hume, with
enthusiasm--"good fellows. I remember once----"
"To-morrow night," said the officer, as he withdrew, laughing.
Mr. Hume hummed cheerfully as he prepared for bed, taking no notice
of his young comrades, who were regarding him with silent
disfavour. With one yawn after another he blew out the light, and
struggled into his hammock, to fall asleep almost at once.
Venning's uneasiness returned. He tossed restlessly, listening to
the unaccustomed noises from without, and as the hours went by, and
at last the sound of talking about the fires died off in a lazy
drone, the desire to see what had become of Muata was too strong to
resist. Softly he lowered himself to the earth-floor, but, soft as
he moved, others had heard.
"Are the mosquitoes troublesome?"
Venning started at the deep voice so unexpected. "I did not know you
were awake, sir."
"I sleep very lightly my boy."
"As you are awake, sir, I would like to say----"
But he stopped as the mat rustled.
"Come in," said Mr. Hume.
"Me guard, great master"--in the same soft, oily tones Venning had
heard before. "Hear noise. Think may be thieves."
"Mosquitoes, not thieves," said Mr. Hume, quietly. "Bring a light."
The Zanzibar boy complied, and, holding a taper above his head,
looked not for mosquitoes, but at the rifles in the corner.
"The skeeters, master," he muttered, with an evil squint at Compton,
who was blinking at the light.
"Better get back into your hammock, Venning. You can go, boy; and
keep a good watch, for we are coming to the thieves' hour."
The man showed his white teeth in a grin as he withdrew.
"Don't stir from your hammocks until I do," said Mr. Hume, very
sternly, in a whisper; then louder, "Good night, Venning."
"Good night, sir," said Venning, convinced that the master was alive
to the game, and more easy in his mind.
As he dropped off to sleep he heard the wail of a jackal, and next
he was awakened by the sound of a native chanting. It was already
daybreak, and Mr. Hume stood on the verandah, having drawn the mats
aside.
The sun, striking under the thatch, shone on the hunter's tawny hair
and beard, and Venning wondered how for a moment he could have
doubted the courage of a man with such a lion-like head. But he was
to receive another shock.
"Silence, dog!" roared the hunter, addressing the singer, evidently.
Compton, who was sitting on his hammock dressing, looked out.
"By Jove," he muttered, "he's shouting at Muata!"
Venning jumped down to the floor and looked out. Muata was still
bound to the post, and, with his face to the sun, was chanting his
words of greeting or of farewell in tones that lacked the deep
chest-notes of his war-cry.
One of the natives, hearing the order of the white man, flung a
stick at the chief with an insult; but Muata, nothing heeding, sang
on his slow song in a voice that was almost like a woman's.
"Must white men lose their sleep because a robber is to die?" roared
the hunter again.
Venning snatched up a beaker of water and ran out barefooted. He
held the water to the chiefs mouth. Muata turned his smouldering
eyes on the boy, sucked in a mouthful of the water, and then shot it
out over Venning's outstretched arm.
Venning dropped the mug, and went back with a red face to see the
two officers regarding him with sour faces.
"Serve you right," shouted Mr. Hume, in apparent fury. "When will
you learn to treat a black like the brute he is?"
"Quite so," said the senior officer, showing himself. "I am glad to
find you have no ridiculous sentiment."
"Ah! good morning, my friend," said Mr. Hume, heartily. "As for my
young comrade, you must pardon him."
"He has his lesson," said the officer, dryly, as he pointed to the
soaked pyjama.
"The man woke me with his singing. I have seen men shot for less
than that."
"In good time," said the officer, with a sinister look, "the
accusers will be here to-night, and to-morrow"--he made a gesture--
"to-morrow you can also choose the two men you need for your boat's
crew."
After breakfast, Mr. Hume had an opportunity of speaking without the
fear of being overheard, for they finished putting the Okapi
together, and worked her out by the levers into the river, where she
gleamed in the sun.
"I dare say you think I am a brute," he said, "and I don't blame
you; but if we mean to save Muata's life, we must appear to be
altogether indifferent to his fate. Those men are keeping a close
watch on us."
"I know it," said Compton.
"You do, eh?"
"That Zanzibar boy was spying on us last night before you came, and
he tried to get us to bribe him to free Muata."
"I hope you were not so foolish as to fall into the trap?" said the
hunter, sharply.
"I kicked him out of the place," said Compton. "I told Venning you
were playing a game for Muata's life."
"You did me justice?" said Mr. Hume, with his gaze on Venning.
"It seemed to me terrible to leave him without a word of
encouragement," said the boy; "but I am awfully sorry I doubted you,
sir."
"You don't now, eh? Well, that's all right, and I think the chief
knows too. That is why he spouted the water over you."
"A strange way of showing his gratitude," laughed the boy, with a
reddening face at the thought of the outrage.
"Not so strange. He saw the Belgians, and did it to put them off
their guard."
"That ought to help us in our plans for his escape."
"We have plans, have we?"
"You have," said Compton, confidently; "and your plan is our plan."
"Thank you," said the hunter, quietly. "If the plan is to succeed,
it must work to-night. I do not fear these people here, but I must
say I fear the Arabs who are expected this evening."
"I understand that you will choose two of those Arabs as boatmen?"
"The Belgians have arranged that, Compton, not I. Have you any
suggestions to offer?"
"I think, sir, that we should get all our things stored in the boat
to-day," said Venning.
"Eight; and then?"
"And then," said Venning, his face all alight with ardour--"and
then--why, sir, then you shoot one of the hippos over there on that
little island. Shoot two; and while all the people in the village
are cutting them up for a great feed, we could free Muata
undetected."
"That is not so bad," said Compton, judiciously.
"Not at all," said Mr. Hume. "But when Muata is free, what is to
become of him--suppose, that is, he can get away unobserved?"
"I have it," said Compton. "The Zanzibar spy suggested it. Let Muata
wait for us up the river, and we will pick him up."
Mr. Hume stroked his beard for some moments in silence.
"We'll, try that plan," he said finally; "but don't show any
excitement. The native, remember, is a very keen observer. Now pull
the boat in."