THE BONDSWOMAN
A small fire burned on the edge of the ravine, flinging out pale red
flashes and an intolerable smoke, for the wood was green and wet. It
had been raining heavily, and the whole forest that rolled down the
slopes of the plateau was filled with a thick white steam. Filmy wisps
of it drifted out of the darkness which hid the towering trunks, and
streamed by the girl who crouched beside the fire cooking her white
lord's evening meal. She was comely, though her face and uncovered
arms were of a warm brown. A wide strip of white cotton fell from one
shoulder, and half revealed the slenderness of her shapely form. It
also covered certain significant discolored bruises on the soft brown
skin. The look in her eyes just then, perhaps, accounted for them, for
it vaguely suggested intelligence, and a protest against her fate, in
place of the hopeless apathy which, after all, saves the native of
that country a great deal of trouble. He has been taught drastically
that any objection he might reasonably make would certainly be futile
and very apt to produce unwished-for results.
A wall of dripping forest rose above the fire, but behind the girl the
ground sloped sharply to the brink of a swollen river which rose in
the plateaux of the interior, and a little, tattered tent was pitched
on the edge of the declivity. In front of it two somewhat ragged white
men lay listlessly upon a strip of waterproof ground sheeting. They
were worn with travel and a long day's labor, for they had been
engaged since sunrise in raft building and ferrying their equipment
and trade goods across the river, and, as it happened, had lost most
of their provisions in the process. They were of widely different
birth and character, and cordially disliked each other, though they
had both first seen the light in Africa and community of interest held
them together.
Gavin was tall and lean and hard, with an expressionless bronzed face,
the son of an English ostrich farmer who had married a Boer woman. He
had come into that country on foot with one other survivor of the
party he had started with after a difference of opinion with the Boer
administration. The others had died with their oxen during their two
years' wandering in the wilderness. His companion Herrero passed for a
Portuguese, though his hair would curl and his lips were a trifle
thick. He was spare in form, and his face was of a muddy yellow with
the stamp of sensuality and cruelty in it. He had also been drinking
freely, though that is not as a rule a Latin vice, and was still very
wet from his labors in the river. He had lower legs like broomsticks,
and his torn, drenched trousers clung tightly about his protuberant
knees.
"One could fancy that we have been bewitched," he said. "Trouble has
followed us all the journey. There was a native woman who looked at
us as we left San Roque, and she made a sign."
Gavin laughed contemptuously. "The loads," he said, "were too heavy.
It is not economical to overdrive these cattle. One must remember the
trek-ox's back."
Herrero blinked at the forest with something that suggested
apprehension in his eyes, and it was not difficult to fancy that it
and all it held was hostile to the white man. It seemed to crowd in
upon him menacingly as the fire leapt up, vague, black, and
impenetrable, an abode of unformulated terror and everlasting shadow.
"I have brought up the same loads with fewer boys before," he said.
"They did not fall lame or die, as some of these have done. It is
known that there is black witchcraft in this bush. There are white men
who have gone into it and did not come out again."
"They were probably easier with their carriers than is advisable," and
Gavin smiled grimly as he dropped a big hand on a cartridge in his
bandolier. "This is a certain witchcraft cure. Still, you have to make
your mind up. We can not go on, and take all the trade goods, without
provisions."
His companion raised one shoulder in protest against the trouble fate
had heaped upon them, for the trade goods were worth a good deal in
the country that lay before them.
"It takes almost as much to keep a man in strength whether he marches
light or loaded," he said. "It would ruin me if we left any more
behind. Boys are scarce just now. One could, perhaps, get provisions
in another week's march."
"The boys can not make it," and it was evident that Gavin was
languidly contemptuous of his comrade's indecision. "You must leave a
few here or you will lose half of them on the way."
He, at least, could face a crisis resolutely, but it was clear that
he, too, regarded the carriers as chattels that had a commercial value
only, for he was quite aware that, since that was one of the sterile
belts, those who were left behind would in all probability die. The
men whose fate they were discussing lay among the wet undergrowth
apart from them, and Herrero, who appeared to be glancing towards
them, raised himself a trifle suddenly.
"Something moves. There in the bush," he said.
"One of the boys," said Gavin, who saw nothing, though his eyes were
keen. "Lie down. You have been taking more cognac than is wise
lately."
Herrero shrugged his shoulders. "There is always something in the
bush. It comes and goes when the boys are asleep," he said. "It is not
pleasant that one should see it."
Gavin scarcely smiled. He was growing a trifle impatient with his
comrade, who could not recognize when it was necessary to make a
sacrifice, and he was ready for his meal. By and by Herrero called to
the girl, who filled a calabash from the iron cooking pot hung above
the fire, and laid it down in front of him with two basins. The trader
lifted a portion of the savory preparation in a wooden spoon and
smelled it.
"The pepper is insufficient. How often must one tell you that?" he
said, and rising laid a yellow hand upon her arm.
The girl shrank back from him, but he followed her, still holding her
arm, and nipped it deeply between the nails of his thumb and
forefinger. He did it slowly, and with a certain relish, while his
face contracted into a malicious grin. For a moment a fierce light
leapt into the girl's eyes, but the torturing grip grew sharper, and
it faded again. The man dropped his hand when at last she broke into a
little cry, and stooping for the calabash she went back towards the
fire. Gavin, who had looked on with an expressionless face, turned to
his comrade.
"If you do that too often I think you will be sorry, my friend," he
said. "She will cut your throat for you some day."
"No," said Herrero, "it is not a thing that is likely to happen if one
uses the stick sufficiently."
His companion smiled in a curious fashion, but said nothing. His
mother's people had long ruled the native with a heavy hand, and he
had no hesitation in admitting that leniency is seldom advisable.
Still, he recognized that in spite of his apathetic patience one may
now and then drive the negro over hard, so that when life becomes
intolerable he somewhat logically grows reckless and turns upon his
oppressors in his desperation, which was a thing that Herrero
apparently did not understand.
In the meanwhile the girl crouched silently by the fire, stirring the
blistering peppers into the cooking pot, a huddled figure robed in
white with meekly bent head and the marks of the white man's brutality
upon her dusky body. Every line of the limp figure was suggestive of
hopelessness. She might have posed for a statue of Africa in bondage.
Still, as it happened, she and the boys who lay apart among the
dripping undergrowth glanced now and then towards the forest with
apathetic curiosity. Gavin's ears were good, but, after all, he had
not depended upon his hearing for life and liberty, as the others had
often done, and their keenness of perception was not in him. They knew
that strangers were approaching stealthily through the bush. Indeed,
they knew that one had flitted about the camp for some little while,
but they said nothing. It was the white man's business, and nothing
that was likely to result from it could matter much to them.
The fire blazed up a little, but, save for its snapping and the roar
of the swollen river, there was silence in the camp, until Gavin rose
to one knee with a little exclamation. He had heard nothing, but at
last his trained senses had given him a sub-conscious warning that
there was something approaching. Just then the girl stirred the fire,
and the uncertain radiance flickered upon the towering trunks. It
drove an elusive track of brightness back into the shadow, and Herrero
scrambled to his feet as a man strode into the light.
He stopped and stood near the fire, dressed in thorn-rent duck, with
the wet dripping from him and a little grim smile in his face, and it
was significant that although he had nothing in his hands Gavin
reached out for the heavy rifle that lay near his side. Strangers
are usually received with caution in that part of Africa, and he
recognized the man. As it happened, the girl by the fire recognized
him, too, and ran forward with a little cry. After all, he had been
kind to her while she lived with Lamartine, and it may have been that
some vague hope of deliverance sprang up in her mind, for she stopped
again and crouched in mute appeal close at his side. Ormsgill laid a
hand reassuringly upon her brown shoulder.
[Illustration: "Ormsgill laid a hand reassuringly upon her brown
shoulder."--See page 103.]
He had not spoken a word yet, and there was silence for a moment or
two while the firelight flared up. It showed Gavin watching him
motionless with the rifle that glinted now and then on his knee,
Herrero standing with closed hands and an unpleasant scowl on his
yellow face, and the boys clustering waist-deep in the underbrush.
Then the trader spoke.
"What do you want?" he said.
"This woman," said Ormsgill simply. "I am willing to buy her from
you."
Herrero laughed maliciously. "She is not for sale. You should not have
let her slip through your fingers. It is possible you could have made
terms with Lamartine."
Ormsgill disregarded the gibe. Indeed, it was one he had expected.
"That," he said, "is not quite the point. Besides, one could hardly
fancy that you are quite correct. Everything is for sale in this part
of Africa. It is only a question of the figure. You have not heard my
offer."
"In this case it would not be a great temptation," and Herrero's grin
was plainer. "The girl is now and then mutinous, and that lends the
affair a certain piquancy. When she has been taught submission I shall
probably grow tired of her and will give her to you. Until then the
breaking of her in will afford me pleasure. In fact, as I have never
been defied by a native yet I feel that to fail in this case would be
a stain on my self-respect."
"I almost think my offer would cover that," said Ormsgill dryly. "It
seems to me your self-respect has been sold once or twice before."
Herrero disregarded him, though his face grew a trifle flushed.
"Anita," he said, "come here."
The girl rose when Ormsgill let his hand drop from her shoulder, and
gazed at him appealingly. Then as he made no sign she turned away with
a little hopeless gesture, moved forward a few paces, and stopped
again when the trader reached out for a withe that lay on the ground
sheet not far from where he stood.
"It would," he said with a vindictive smile, "have saved her trouble
if you had stayed away."
"Stop," said Ormsgill sharply, and striding forward stood looking at
him. "You have shown how far you would go, which was in one way most
unwise of you since you have made it a duty to take the girl from you.
What is more to the purpose, it will certainly be done. There are two
ways of obtaining anything in this country. One is to buy it, and the
other to fight for it. I am willing to use either."
Herrero who saw the glint in his eyes, backed away from him, and
flashed a warning glance at Gavin, who turned to Ormsgill quietly.
"I am," he said in English, "willing to stand by, and see fair play,
since it does not seem to be altogether a question of business. Still,
if it seems likely that you will deprive me of my comrade's services I
shall probably feel compelled to take a hand in. He has a few good
points though they're not particularly evident, and I can't altogether
afford to lose him."
Herrero, who glanced round the camp, waved his hand towards the boys.
"I will call them to beat you back into the bush."
Ormsgill raised his voice, and there was a sharp crackling of
undergrowth, while here and there a dusky figure materialized out of
the shadow.
"As you see, they have guns," he said.
Gavin smiled and tapped his rifle. "Still, they can't shoot as I can.
Hadn't you better send them away again, and if you have any offer to
make Mr. Herrero get on with it? One naturally expected something of
this kind."
Ormsgill made a little gesture with his hand, and the men sank into
the gloom again.
"Well," he said, "for the last week I have been trailing you, and as I
did not know how long I might be coming up with you, I have plenty of
provisions. Yours, it is evident from one or two things I noticed, are
running out, and you can't get through the sterile belt without a
supply. It was rather a pity the San Roque people burned the village
where you expected to get some. I'm open to hand you over all the
loads I can spare in return for the girl Anita."
"How many loads?"
Ormsgill told him, and Gavin nodded, "It is a reasonable offer," he
said. "I will engage that our friend makes terms with you. Bring in
the provisions, and you shall have the girl."
Herrero protested savagely until his companion dryly pointed that
since his objections had no weight he was wasting his breath. Then
Ormsgill turned away into the bush, and came back with a line of
half-naked carrier boys who laid down the loads they carried before
the tent. After that he touched the girl's shoulder, and pointed to
the hammock two of the boys lowered.
"You are going back to your own village," he said.
The girl gazed at him a moment in evident astonishment, and then waved
her little brown hands.
"I have none," she said. "It was burned several moons ago."
It was evident that this was something Ormsgill had not expected, and
was troubled at, and Gavin, who watched him, smiled.
"If she belongs to the Lutanga people, as one would fancy from her
looks, what she says is very likely correct," he said. "One of the
plateau tribes came down not long ago and wiped several villages out.
Domingo told me, and from what he said the tribe in question is
certainly not one I'd care about handing over a woman to. She would
probably have to put up with a good deal of unpleasantness if she
went back there. Besides, it seems to me that what you had in view
would scarcely be flattering to the lady. It isn't altogether what she
would expect from her rescuer."
Ormsgill had already an unpleasant suspicion of the latter fact, for
woman's favor is not sought but purchased or commanded in most parts
of Africa. Still, he once more pointed to the hammock, and walked
behind it without a word when the bearers hove the pole to their wooly
crowns.
Then as they flitted into the shadowy bush Gavin turned to Herrero
with a little laugh. "There are a few men like him, men with views
that bring them trouble," he said. "My father was one. He threw away a
big farm on account of them. He would not make obeisance to his new
masters when his nation turned its back on him. That, however, is a
thing one could scarcely expect you to understand."
Then he called one of the boys and sent him to the fire. "And now we
will have supper. After all, I'm not very sorry you lost that girl, my
friend."