HERRERO'S IMPRUDENCE
Though it was, at least, as hot as it usually is at San Roque and the
heavy, stagnant atmosphere made exertion of any kind impossible to a
white man, Dom Erminio had not gone to sleep that afternoon, as he
generally did. He had, after all, some shadowy notions of duty, and
would now and then rouse himself to carry them out; that is, at least,
when he stood to obtain some advantage by doing so. In this he was,
perhaps, not altogether singular, since it is possible that there are
other men who recognize a duty most clearly under similar
circumstances. He lay in a low hung hammock where the veranda roof
flung a grateful shadow over him, with a cigar in his hand,
meditatively watching a row of half-naked negroes toiling in the
burning sun, and the fashion in which he did so suggested that it
afforded him a certain quiet satisfaction. He had grave objections to
physical exertion personally, and as a rule succeeded in avoiding it,
for there are, as he recognized, advantages in being a white man, in
that country, at least. Dom Erminio invariably made the most of them.
It must be admitted that the negro is by no means addicted to toiling
assiduously under scorching heat, especially when, as sometimes
happens, he works for a white man who requisitions his services
without any intention of rewarding him for them, but though the baked
and trampled soil of the compound flung back an intolerable heat and
glare, the half-naked men were diligent that afternoon. Dom Erminio
had his shifty black eyes on them, and certain dusky men with sticks
stood ready to spur the laggards to fresh endeavor. So while the sweat
of strenuous effort dripped from them some trotted to and fro with
baskets of soil upon their woolly heads and the rest plied saw and
hammer persistently. They were strengthening the fort stockade and
digging a ditch, and incidentally riveting the shackles of the white
man's bondage more firmly on their limbs. The Commandant, or Chefe as
he was usually called, appeared to recognize that fact, for he smiled
a little as he watched them.
By and by he turned and blinked at the forest which hemmed in the
stockaded compound as with an impenetrable wall. It was dim and
shadowy, even under that burning glare suggestively so, and he was
aware that just then whispers of a coming rising were flying through
its unlifting gloom, though the fact caused him no great concern. A
few white friends of his were playing a game that has been played
before in other regions, and he was quite willing to gain fresh renown
as an administrator by the suppression of a futile rebellion. It is
also possible that his friends looked for more tangible advantages,
and would have been willing to offer him a certain share of them.
That, however, is not quite a matter of certainty, and there were, at
least, men in that country who said they regarded Dom Erminio as all
an administrator ought to be. Perhaps he was, from their point of
view.
The Lieutenant Luiz, who had just come back from a native village with
a handful of dusky soldiers and a band of carriers loaded with fresh
provisions, sat in a basket chair close by, also regarding the
stockade builders with a little smile. The natural reluctance of
certain negroes to part with their possessions had occasioned him a
good deal of trouble during the last few days. A negro who served as
messenger stood waiting a few paces behind him.
"It is an advantage when one can teach the trek-ox to harness
himself," he said reflectively. "I do not think those men like what
they are doing. Every pile that they are driving makes our rule a
little surer. It is not astonishing that some of them should be a
trifle mutinous now and then."
"You had a difficulty about those provisions?" said Dom Erminio.
His companion laughed. "One would scarcely call it that. It was merely
advisable to use the stick, and a hut or two was burnt. In times like
the present one profits by a little judicious firmness."
"I think one could even go a trifle further than that."
Lieutenant Luiz made a little gesture. He had a certain shrewdness,
and the Chefe was only cunning, which is, after all, a different thing
from being clever. It seemed that Dom Erminio failed to recognize
that it is always somewhat dangerous to play with fire. One can as a
rule start a conflagration without much difficulty, but it is now and
then quite another matter to put it out.
"I am not sure," he said. "There are men in this country who seem to
enjoy scattering sparks, and they are rather busy just now. It is,
perhaps, not very hazardous when it is done judiciously and one knows
there is only a little tinder here and there, but when one flings them
broadcast it is possible that two or three may fall on powder." He
turned and stretched out a dainty, olive-tinted hand towards the
forest. "After all, we do not know much about what goes on there."
"Bah!" said Dom Erminio, who had courage, at least, "if the blaze is a
little larger than one expected what does it matter? The stockade will
be a strong one."
His companion glanced at the gap in the row of well stiffened piles.
"It would certainly be difficult to storm that gate, but these bushmen
who are building the stockade will have the sense to realize it and
tell their friends. If there is an attack it will not be made that
way."
"Exactly!" and the Chefe's eyes twinkled as he waved a yellow hand.
"It is a little idea that occurred to me while you were away. The
bushmen would come by the rear of the stockade which we leave lower,
and when they do I think we shall also be ready for them there. There
are certain defenses which will be substituted when their friends
have gone away again."
They both laughed at this and neither of them said anything further
for awhile until a negro swathed in white cotton strode out of the
forest with a little stick in his hand. He was challenged by a sentry
who sent him on, and presently stood on the veranda holding out the
stick. Dom Erminio glanced at it languidly.
"Our injudicious friend Herrero has some word for us," he said. "He is
a man who lets his dislikes run away with him, and he is not always
wise in his messages." He stopped a moment with a little reflective
smile. "Still, a message is always a difficulty in this part of
Africa. If one teaches the messenger what he is to say he may tell it
to somebody else, and it happens now and then that to write is not
advisable. One must choose, however, and I wonder which our friend has
done."
The man decided the question by holding out a strip of paper, and the
Chefe who took it from him nodded as he read.
"It appears that Herrero is not pleased with the doings of the
Englishman who is now in the bush country," he said. "Herrero seems to
consider that he and a few others are capable of rousing all the ill
will against us among the natives that is desirable, and I am almost
tempted to believe that he is right in this. He is, however, imprudent
enough to supply me with a few particulars which might with advantage
have been made less explicit. He fancies we shall have a rebellion,
and if we do not I almost think it will be no fault of his."
"There is no doubt a little more," observed Lieutenant Luiz. "When
that man writes a letter he has something to ask for."
The Commandant nodded. "It is in this case a thing we can oblige him
in," he said. "It seems the crazy Englishman Ormsgill is causing
trouble up yonder and inciting the natives to mutiny. Further, it is
evidently his intention to deprive Domingo of some of the boys who
have engaged themselves under him. The man is one who could, I think,
be called dangerous. It is not a favor to Herrero, but a duty to place
some check on him."
They looked at one another, and Dom Luiz grinned. "Ah," he said, "our
imprudent friend no doubt mentions how it could most readily be done."
The Commandant raised one hand. "The thing is simple. You will start,
we will say the day after to-morrow, with several men, and you will
come upon Ormsgill in a village in Cavalho's country. Domingo, it
seems, is there now, and it is expected that Ormsgill will attempt to
take the boys from him, but this will cause no difficulty. The
Headman, who is a friend of Domingo's will, if it appears advisable,
disarm Ormsgill. The latter will no doubt not permit this to be done
quietly, and it is possible that there will be a disturbance in the
village, as the result of which you will arrest him for raiding
natives under our protection. We shall know what to do when you bring
him here."
They had, after sending Herrero's messenger away, spoken in Portuguese
of which the negro who remained on the veranda understood no more than
a word or two. He stood still, statuesque, with his white draperies
flowing about his dusky limbs, and as disregarded by the white men as
the native girl with the big bedizened fan who crouched in the shadowy
doorway just behind them. Yet both had intelligence, and noticed that
the Chefe instead of destroying the letter laid it carelessly on the
edge of his hammock, from which it dropped when he raised himself a
little. The girl's eyes glistened, but she said nothing, and the man
moved slightly as though his pose had grown irksome. It was
unfortunate that Dom Erminio had considered it advisable to keep him
there waiting his pleasure, for when he stood still again he was a
foot or two nearer the strip of paper than he had been a few moments
earlier.
Then the girl in the doorway rose, and the Chefe turned sharply in his
hammock as a little haggard man in plain white duck walked quietly out
of the house. He saw the question in the glance Dom Erminio flashed at
his Lieutenant, and smiled as he seated himself in the nearest chair.
Father Tiebout was always unobtrusive, and what he did was as a rule
done very quietly, but he was quite aware that neither of the two
white men were exactly pleased to see him.
"I came in from the east by the rear of the stockade where they are
mending it," he said. "It was a little nearer. One would suppose that
you did not see me."
The residency veranda, as is usual in that country, ran round the
building, which had several doors and two stairways, and it was
therefore perfectly natural that the priest should have arrived
unnoticed, but the fact that he had done so was disconcerting just
then, and it left the question how long he might have been in the
house. Still, there were reasons why the Chefe could not ask it or
treat his guest with any discourtesy.
"In any case you are welcome," he said. "There is presumably something
I can do for you?"
Father Tiebout nodded. "A little matter," he said. "I was going to San
Thome, and as my road led near the fort I thought I would mention it.
My people have a complaint against the soldiers you lately sent into
our neighborhood under the Sergeant Orticho. Some of them have been
beaten."
"Dom Luiz will go over and look into it," said the Chefe. "That is,
presently."
"Ah," said Father Tiebout, "then Dom Luiz is busy now? He will, no
doubt, be at liberty in a day or two?"
It was not a question Dom Erminio wished to answer, and he waved his
hand. "At the moment one cannot say. In the meanwhile you will make
your complaint a little more definite."
He had apparently forgotten the messenger, but Father Tiebout had been
quietly watching him, and now saw him stretch out a dusky foot towards
the strip of paper which lay not far away. He touched it with a
prehensile toe, and in another moment it had vanished altogether,
though the man did not stand exactly where he had stood before.
Lieutenant Luiz, as it happened, sat with his back to him, and Dom
Erminio lay in his hammock where he could not see, but two people had
noticed every motion, and though neither of them made any sign the
dusky man was quite aware that the girl who had retired to one of the
windows was watching him. About Father Tiebout he was far from
certain, but he was a bold man, and turning a little away from him he
stooped and apparently touched a scratch a thorn or broken grass stalk
had made on his foot. When he straightened himself again there was,
however, something in his hand. Then the Chefe appeared to remember
him.
"You will go back to the Lieutenant Castro," he said. "You can tell
him there is no answer. Start to-morrow."
"It is a long journey," said the man. "I go back now."
Dom Erminio made a little gesture which seemed to indicate that it was
a matter of indifference to him, and Father Tiebout put a check on his
impatience. He had, as it happened, been in the house at least a
minute before any one had noticed him, and was anxious for reasons of
his own to discover what was in the letter. He did not know what the
messenger meant to do with it, but he was aware that those entrusted
with authority in that country were frequently at variance and spied
on one another. It was possible that the man who could not read the
note might expect to sell it.
Still, the missionary was one who seldom spoiled anything by undue
haste, and he reflected that while he had traveled in a hammock
leisurely the man was probably worn by a long journey, since San Roque
lay at some distance from the camp where the officer the Chefe had
mentioned was stationed then. So he supplied his hosts with
particulars concerning his complaint, and then talked of other matters
for an hour or more, and it was not until the comida was laid out that
he set out on his journey. This was a somewhat unusual course in the
case of a guest who had a long march still in front of him, but
although the messenger, who might also have been expected to spend the
night there, had evinced the same desire to get on his way, it never
occurred to Dom Erminio to put the two facts together. There are,
however, other cunning men who now and then fail to see a very obvious
thing.
Still, Father Tiebout did not go by the nearest way to San Thome,
though he urged his hammock boys through the bush all night at their
utmost speed. The path was smoothly trodden, and they had no great
difficulty in following it through the drifting steam, while when the
red sun leapt up and here and there a ray of brightness streamed down,
they came upon a weary man who turned and stood still when he saw
them. He made a little gesture of comprehension when the priest
dropped from his hammock and looked at him.
Father Tiebout touched his shoulder and led him back a few paces into
the bush. The man was big and muscular, as well as a pagan, but the
priest had the letter when they came out again. He did not tell any
one how he induced the messenger to part with it, but, as he now and
then admitted, he was one who did not hesitate to use the means
available. It was, in fact, a favorite expression of his, and, though
he usually left the latter point an open question, in his case, at
least, the results generally justified the means. He spoke a word or
two sharply to the hammock boys, and they left the man sitting wearily
beside the trail when they went on again.
It was three weeks later when the priest in charge of the San Thome
Mission, who was a privileged person, sent on the letter to Dom
Clemente Figuera by the hands of a Government messenger, but Father
Tiebout, who requested him to do so, had made one or two other
arrangements in connection with it in the meanwhile. Ormsgill, as he
had once said, had a few good friends in Africa.