A MEETING IN THE FOREST.
In five minutes more Alan and Jeekie were among the Ogula, who, having
recognized their chief while he was yet some way off, greeted him with
rapturous cheers and the clapping of hands. Then as there was no time
for explanation, they retreated across a little stream which ran down
the valley, four thousand or more of them, and prepared for battle.
That evening, however, there was no fighting, for when the first of the
Asiki reached the top of the rise and saw that the fugitives had
escaped to the enemy, who were in strength, they halted and finally
retired.
Now Alan, and Fahni also, hoped that the pursuit was abandoned, but
again Jeekie shook his big head, saying:
“Not at all, Major, I know Asiki and their little ways. While one of
them alive, not dare go back to Asika without _you_, Major.”
“Perhaps she is with them herself,” suggested Alan, “and we
might treat with her.”
“No, Major, Asika never leave Bonsa Town, that against law, and if she
do so, priests make another Asika and kill her when they catch her.”
After this a council of war was held, and it was decided to camp there
that night, since the position was good to meet an attack if one should
be made, and the Ogula were afraid of being caught on the march with
their backs towards the enemy. Alan was glad enough to hear this
decision, for he was quite worn out and ready to take any risk for a
few hours’ rest. At this council he learned also that the Asiki bearers
carrying his gold with their Ogula guides had arrived safely among the
Ogula, who had mustered in answer to their chief’s call and were
advancing towards Asiki-land, though the business was one that did not
please them. As for these Asiki bearers, it seemed that they had gone
on into the forest with the gold, and nothing more had been heard of
them.
As they were leaving the council Alan asked Jeekie if he had any tidings
of his mother, who had been their first messenger.
“No, Major,” he answered gloomily, “can’t learn nothing
of my ma, don’t know where she is. Ogula camp no place for old girl if
they short of chop and hungry. But p’raps she never get there; I nose
round and find out.”
Apparently Jeekie did “nose round” to some purpose, for just as
Alan was dropping off to sleep in his bough shelter a most fearful din
arose without, through which he recognized the vociferations of Jeekie.
Running out of the shelter he discovered his retainer and a great Ogula
whom he knew again as the headman who had been imprisoned with him and
freed by the Asika to guide the bearers, rolling over and over on the
ground, watched by a curious crowd. Just as he arrived Jeekie, who,
notwithstanding his years, was a man of enormous strength, got the
better of the Ogula and kneeling on his stomach, was proceeding to
throttle him. Rushing at him, Alan dragged him off and asked what was
the matter.
“Matter, Major!” yelled the indignant Jeekie. “My ma inside
this black villain, _that_ the matter. Dirty cannibal got digestion of
one ostrich and eat her up with all his mates, all except one who not
like her taste and tell me. They catch poor old lady asleep by road so
stop and lunch at once when Asiki bearers not looking. Let me get at
him, Major, let me get at him. If I can’t bury my ma, as all good son
ought to do, I bury him, which next best thing.”
“Jeekie, Jeekie,” said Alan, “exercise a Christian spirit and
let bygones be bygones. If you don’t, you will make a quarrel between us
and the Ogula, and they will give us up to the Asiki. Perhaps the man
did not eat your mother; I understand that he denies it, and when you
remember what she was like, it seems incredible. At any rate he has a
right to a trial, and I will speak to Fahni about it to-morrow.”
So they were separated, but as it chanced that case never came on, for
next morning this Ogula was killed in the fighting together with two of
his companions, while the others involved in the charge kept themselves
out of sight. Whether Jeekie’s “ma” was or was not eaten by the
Ogula no one ever learned for certain. At least she was never heard of
any more.
Alan was sleeping heavily when a sound of rushing feet and of strange,
thrilling battle-cries awoke him. He sprang up, snatching at a spear and
shield which Jeekie had provided for him, and ran out to find from the
position of the moon that dawn was near.
“Come on, Major,” said Jeekie, “Asiki make night attack; they
always like do everything at night who love darkness, because their eye
evil. Come on quick, Major,” and he began to drag him off toward the
rear.
“But that’s the wrong way,” said Alan presently. “They
are attacking over there.”
“Do you think Jeekie fool, Major, that he don’t know that? He take
you where they _not_ attacking. Plenty Ogula to be killed, but not
_many_ white men like you, and in all world only _one_ Jeekie!”
“You cold-blooded old scoundrel!” ejaculated Alan as he turned and
bolted back towards the noise of fighting, followed by his reluctant
servant.
By the time that he reached the first ranks, which were some way off,
the worst of the attack was over. It had been short and sharp, for the
Asiki had hoped to find the Ogula unprepared and to take their camp
with a rush. But the Ogula, who knew their habits, were waiting for
them, so that presently they withdrew, carrying off their wounded and
leaving about fifty dead upon the ground. As soon as he was quite sure
that the enemy were all gone, Jeekie, armed with a large battle-axe,
went off to inspect these fallen soldiers. Alan, who was helping the
Ogula wounded, wondered why he took so much interest in them. Half an
hour later his curiosity was satisfied, for Jeekie returned with over
twenty heavy gold rings, torques, and bracelets slung over his
shoulder.
“Where did you get those, Jeekie?” he asked.
“Off poor chaps that peg out just now, Major. Remember Asiki soldiers
nearly always wear these things, and that filthy lucre no more use where
they gone to, ’cause they melt there. But if ever he get out of this
Jeekie want spend his old age in respectable peace. So he fetch them.
Hard work, though, for rings all in one bit and Asiki very tough to
chop. Don’t look cross, Major; you remember what ’postle say, that he
who no provide for his own self worse than cannibal.”
Just then Fahni came up and announced that the Asiki general had sent a
messenger into the camp proposing terms of peace.
“What terms?” asked Alan.
“These, white man: that we should surrender you and your servant and go
our way unharmed.”
“Indeed, Fahni, and what did you answer?”
“White man, I refused; but I tell you,” he added warningly,
“that my captains wished to accept. They said that I had come back to
them safe and that they fear the Asiki, who are devils, not men, and who
will bring the curse of Bonsa on us if we go on fighting with them.
Still I refused, saying that if they gave you up I would go with you,
who saved my life from the lion and afterwards from the priests of
Bonsa. So the messenger went back and, white man, we march at once, and
I pray you always to keep close to me that I may watch over you.”
Then began that long tramp down the river, which Alan always thought
afterwards tried him more than any of the terrible events of his
escape. For although there was but little fighting, only rearguard
actions indeed, every day the Asiki sent messengers renewing their
offers of peace on the sole condition of the surrender of himself and
Jeekie. At last one evening they came to that place where Alan first
met the Ogula, and once more he camped upon the island on which he had
shot the lion. At nightfall, after he had eaten, Fahni visited him here
and Alan boded evil from his face.
“White man,” he said, “I can protect you no longer. The Asiki
messengers have been with us again and they say that unless we give you
up to-morrow at the dawn, their army will push on ahead of us and
destroy my town, which is two days’ march down the river, and all the
women and children in it, and that afterwards they will fight a great
battle with us. Therefore my people say that I must give you up, or
that if I do not they will elect another chief and do so themselves.”
“Then you will give up a dead man, Fahni.”
“Friend,” said the old chief in a low voice, “the night is
dark and the forest not so far away. Moreover, I have set no guards on
that side of the river, and Jeekie here does not forget a road that he
has travelled. Lastly, I have heard it said that there are some other
white people with soldiers camped in the edge of the forest. Now, if
you were not here in the morning, how could I give you up?”
“I understand, Fahni. You have done your best for me, and now,
good-night. Jeekie and I are going to take a walk. Sometimes you will
think of the months we spent together in Bonsa Town, will you not?”
“Yes, and of you also, white man, for so long as I shall live. Walk fast
and far, for the Asiki are clever at following a spoor. Good-night,
Friend, and to you, Jeekie the cunning, good-night also. I go to tell
my captains that I will surrender you at dawn,” and without more words
he vanished out of their sight and out of their lives.
Meanwhile Jeekie, foreseeing the issue of this talk, was already engaged
in doing up their few belongings, including the gold rings, some food,
and a native cooking pot, in a bundle surrounded by a couple of bark
blankets.
“Come on, Major,” he said, handing Alan one spear and taking
another himself. “Old cannibal quite right, very nice night for a walk.
Come on, Major, river shallow just here. I think this happen and try it
before dark. You just follow Jeekie, that all you got to do.”
So leaving the fire burning in front of their bough shelter, they waded
the stream and started up the opposing slope, meeting no man. Dark as
it was, Jeekie seemed to have no difficulty in finding the way, for as
Fahni said, a native does not forget the path he has once travelled.
All night long they walked rapidly, and when dawn broke found
themselves at the edge of the forest.
“Jeekie,” said Alan, “what did Fahni mean by that tale about
white people?”
“Don’t know, Major, think perhaps he lie to let you down easy. My
golly! what that?”
As he spoke a distant echo reached their ears, the echo of a rifle shot.
“Think Fanny not lie after all,” went on Jeekie; “that white
man’s gun, sharp crack, smokeless powder, but wonder how he come in this
place. Well, we soon find out. Come on, Major.”
Tired as they were they broke into a run; the prospect of seeing a white
face again was too much for them. Half a mile or so further on they
caught sight of a figure evidently engaged in stalking game among the
trees, or so they judged from his cautious movements.
“White man!” said Jeekie, and Alan nodded.
They crept forward silently and with care, for who knew what this white
man might be after, keeping a great tree between them and the man, till
at length, passing round its bole, they found themselves face to face
with him and not five yards away. Notwithstanding his unaccustomed
tropical dress and his face burnt copper colour by the sun, Alan knew
the man at once.
“Aylward!” he gasped; “Aylward! You here?”
He started. He stared at Alan. Then his countenance changed. Its
habitual calm broke up as it was wont to do in moments of deep emotion.
It became very evil, as though some demon of hate and jealousy were at
work behind it. The thin lips quivered, the eyes glared, and without
spoken word or warning, he lifted the rifle and fired straight at Alan.
The bullet missed him, for the aim was high. Passing over Alan’s head,
it cut a neat groove through the hair of the taller Jeekie who was
immediately behind him.
Next instant, with a spring like that of a tiger Jeekie was on Aylward.
The weight of his charge knocked him backwards to the ground, and there
he lay, pinned fast.
“What for you do that?” exclaimed the indignant Jeekie. “What
for you shoot through wool of respectable nigger, Sir Robert Aylward,
Bart.? Now I throttle you, you dirty hog-swine. No Magistrates’ Court
here in Dwarf Forest,” and he began to suit the action to the word.
“Let him go, Jeekie. Take his rifle and let him go,” exclaimed
Alan, who all this while had stood amazed. “There must be some mistake,
he cannot have meant to murder me.”
“Don’t know what he mean, but know his bullet go through my hair,
Major, and give me new parting,” grumbled Jeekie as he obeyed.
“Of course it was a mistake, Vernon, for I suppose it is Vernon,”
said Aylward, as he rose. “I do not wonder that your servant is angry,
but the truth is that your sudden appearance frightened me out of my
wits and I fired automatically. We have been living in some danger
here, and my nerves are not as strong as they used to be.”
“Indeed,” answered Alan. “No, Jeekie will carry the rifle for
you; yes, and I think that pistol also, every ounce makes a difference
walking in a hot climate, and I remember that you always were dangerous
with firearms. There, you will be more comfortable so. And now, who do
you mean by ‘we’?”
“I mean Barbara and myself,” he answered slowly.
Alan’s jaw dropped, he shook upon his feet.
“Barbara and yourself!” he said. “Do I
understand——”
“Don’t you understand nothing, Major,” broke in Jeekie.
“Don’t you believe one word what this pig dog say. If Miss Barbara
marry him he no want shoot you; he ask you to tea to see the Missus and
how much she love him, ducky! We just go on and call on Miss Barbara
and hear the news. Walk up, Sir Robert Aylward, Bart., and show us
which way.”
“I do not choose to receive you and your impertinent servant at my
camp,” said Aylward, grinding his teeth.
“We quite understand that, Sir Robert Aylward——”
“Lord Aylward, if you please, Major Vernon.”
“I beg your pardon—Lord Aylward. I was aware of the contemplated
purchase of that title, I did not know that it had been completed. I was
about to add that all the same we mean to go to that camp, and that if
any violence towards us is attempted as we approach it, you will
remember that you are in our hands.”
“Yes, my Lord,” added Jeekie, bowing, “and that monkeys
don’t tell no tales, my Lord, and that here there ain’t no twelve
Good-Trues to sit on noble corpse unhappily deceased, my Lord, and to
bring in Crowner’s verdict of done to death lawful or unlawful,
according as evidence may show when got, my Lord. So march on, for we
no breakfast yet. No, not that way, round here to left, where I think I
hear kettle sing.”
So having no choice, Aylward came, marching between the other two and
saying nothing. When they had gone a couple of hundred yards Alan also
heard something, and to him it sounded like a man crying out in pain.
Then suddenly they passed round some great trees and reached a glade in
the forest where there was a spring of water which Alan remembered. In
this glade the camp had been built, surrounded by a “boma” or palisade
of rough wood, within which stood two tents and some native shelters
made of tall grass and boughs. Outside of this camp a curious and
unpleasant scene was in progress.
To a small tree that grew there was tied a man, whom from the fashion of
his hair Alan knew to belong to the Coast negroes, while two great
fellows, evidently of another tribe, flogged him unmercifully with hide
whips.
“Ah!” exclaimed Jeekie, “that the kettle I hear sing. Think
you better taken him off the fire, my Lord, or he boil over. Also his
brothers no seem like that music,” and he pointed to a number of other
men who were standing round watching the scene with sullen
dissatisfaction.
“A matter of camp discipline,” muttered Aylward. “This man
has disobeyed orders.”
By now Jeekie was shouting something to the natives in an unknown
tongue, which they seemed to understand well enough. At any rate the
flogging ceased, the two fellows who were inflicting it slunk away, and
the other men ran towards them, shouting back as they came.
“All right, Major. You please stop here one minute with my Lord, late
Bart. of Bloody Hand. Some of these chaps friends of mine, I meet them
Old Calabar while we get ready to march last rains. Now I have little
talk with them and find out thing or two.”
Aylward began to bluster about interference with his servants and so
forth. Jeekie turned on him with a very ugly grin, and showing his
white teeth, as was his fashion when he grew fierce.
“Beg pardon, Right Honourable Lord,” he said, or rather snarled,
“you do what I tell you just to please Jeekie. Jeekie no one in England,
but Jeekie damn big Lord too out here, great medicine man, pal of Little
Bonsa. You remember Little Bonsa, eh! These chaps think it great honour
to meet Jeekie, so, Major, if he stir, please shoot him through head;
Jeekie ’sponsible, not you. Or if you not like do it, I come back and
see to job myself and don’t think those fellows cry very much.”
There was something about Jeekie’s manner that frightened Aylward, who
understood for the first time that beneath all the negro’s grotesque
talk lay some dreadful, iron purpose, as courage lay under his affected
cowardice and under his veneer of selfishness, fidelity. At any rate he
halted with Alan, who stood beside him, the revolver of which Aylward
had been relieved by Jeekie, in his hand. Meanwhile Jeekie, who held
the rifle which he had reloaded, went on and met the natives about
twenty yards away.
“We always disliked each other, Vernon, but I must say that I never
thought a day would come when you proposed to murder me in my own camp,”
said Aylward.
“Odd thing,” answered Alan, “but a very similar idea was in
my mind. I never thought, Lord Aylward, that however unscrupulous you
might be—financially—a day would come when you would attempt to shoot
down an unarmed man in an African forest. Oh! don’t waste breath in
lying; I saw you recognize me, aim, and fire, after which Jeekie would
have had the other barrel, and who then would have remained to tell the
story, Lord Aylward?”
Aylward made no answer, but Alan felt that if wishes could kill him he
would not live long. His eye fell upon a long, unmistakable mound of
fresh earth, beneath a tree. He calculated its length, and with a
thrill of terror noticed that it was too small for a negro.
“Who is buried there?” he asked.
“Find out for yourself,” was the sneering answer.
“Don’t be afraid, Lord Aylward; I shall find out everything in
time.”
The conversation between Jeekie and the natives proceeded, their heads
were close together; it grew animated. They seemed to be coming to some
decision. Presently one of them ran and cut the lashings of the man who
had been bound to the tree, and he staggered towards them and joined in
the talk, pointing to his wounds. Then the two fellows who had been
engaged in flogging him, accompanied by eight companions of the same
type—they appeared to be soldiers, for they carried guns—swaggered
towards the group who were being addressed by Jeekie, of whom Alan
counted twenty-three. As they approached Jeekie made some suggestion
which, after one hesitating moment, the others seemed to accept, for
they nodded their heads and separated out a little.
Jeekie stepped forward and asked a question of the guards, to which they
replied with a derisive shout. Then without a word of warning he lifted
Aylward’s express rifle which he carried, and fired first one barrel and
then the other, shooting the two leading soldiers dead. Their companions
halted amazed, but before they could lift their guns, Jeekie and those
with him rushed at them and began stabbing them with spears and
striking them with sticks. In three minutes it was over without another
shot being fired. Most of them were despatched, and the others,
throwing down their guns, had fled wounded into the forest.
Now, shouting in jubilation, some of the men began to drag away the dead
bodies, while others collected the rifles and the remainder, headed by
Jeekie, advanced towards Alan and Aylward, waving their red spears.
Alan stood staring, for he did not in the least understand the meaning
of what had happened, but Aylward, who had turned very pale, addressed
Jeekie, saying:
“I suppose that you have come to murder me also, you black villain.”
“No, no, my Lord,” answered Jeekie politely, “not at present.
Also that wrong word, execute, not murder, just what you do to some of
these poor devils,” and he pointed to the mob of porters. “Besides,
mustn’t kill holy white man, poor black chap don’t matter, plenty
more where he come from. Think we all go see Miss Barbara now. You come
too, my Lord Bart., but p’raps best tie your hands behind you first; if
you want scratch head, I do it for you. That only fair, you scratch
mine this morning.”
Then at a word from Jeekie some of the natives sprang on Aylward and
tied his hands behind his back.
“Is Miss Barbara alive?” said Alan to Jeekie in an agonized
whisper, at the same time nodding towards the grave that was so
ominously short.
“Hope so, think so, these cards say so, but God He know alone,”
answered Jeekie. “Go and look, that best way to find out.”
So they advanced into the camp through a narrow gateway made of a
V-shaped piece of wood, to where the two tents were placed in its inner
division. Of these tents, the first was open, whereas the second was
closed. As the open tent was obviously empty, they went to the second,
whereof Jeekie began to loosen the lashings of the flap. It was a long
business, for they seemed to have been carefully knotted inside; indeed
at last, growing impatient, Jeekie cut the cord, using the curved knife
with which the Mungana had tried to kill Alan.
Meanwhile Alan was suffering torments, being convinced that Barbara was
dead and buried in that new-made grave beneath the trees. He could not
speak, he could scarcely stand, and yet a picture began to form in his
numb mind. He saw himself seated in the dark in the Treasure House at
Bonsa Town; he saw a vision in the air before him.
Lo! the tent door opened and that vision reappeared.
There was the pale Barbara seated, weeping. There again, as he entered
she sprang up and snatching the pistol that lay beside her, turned it
to her breast. Then she perceived him and the pistol sank downwards
till from her relaxed hand it dropped to the ground. She threw up her
arms and without a sound fell backwards, or would have fallen, had he
not caught her.