THE LAST OF THE ASIKI.
Barbara had recovered. She sat upon her bed in the tent and by her sat
Alan, holding her hand, while before them stood Aylward like a prisoner
in the dock, and behind him the armed Jeekie.
“Tell me the story, Barbara,” said Alan, “and tell it
briefly, for I cannot bear much more of this.”
She looked at him and began in a slow, even voice:
“After you had gone, dear, things went on as usual for a month or two.
Then came the great Sahara Company trouble. First there were rumours and
the shares began to go down. My uncle bought them in by tens and
hundreds of thousands, to hold up the market, because he was being
threatened, but of course he did not know then that Lord Aylward—for I
forgot to tell you, he had become a lord somehow—was secretly one of
the principal sellers, let him deny it if he can. At last the Ottoman
Government, through the English ambassador, published its repudiation
of the concession, which it seems was a forgery, actually executed or
obtained in Constantinople by my uncle. Well, there was a fearful
smash. Writs were taken out against my uncle, but before they could be
served, he died suddenly of heart disease. I was with him at the time,
and he kept saying he saw that gold mask which Jeekie calls Bonsa, the
thing you took back to Africa. He had a fine funeral, for what he had
done was not publicly known, and when his will was opened I found that
he had left me his fortune, but made Lord Aylward there my trustee
until I came to the full age of twenty-five under my father’s will.
Alan, don’t force me to tell you what sort of a guardian he was to me;
also there was no fortune, it had all gone; also I had very, very
little left, for almost all my own money had gone too. In his despair
he had forged papers to get it in order to support those Sahara
Syndicate shares. Still I managed to borrow about £2000 from that
little lawyer out of the £5000 that remain to me, an independent sum
which he was unable to touch, and, Alan, with it I came to find you.
“Alan, Lord Aylward followed me; although everybody else was ruined, he
remained rich, very, very rich, they say, and his fancy was to marry me,
also I think it was not comfortable for him in England. It is a long
tale, but I got up here with about five-and-twenty servants, and Snell,
my maid, whom you remember. Then we were both taken ill with some
dreadful fever and had it not been for those good black people, I
should have died, for I have been very sick, Alan. But they nursed me
and I recovered; it was poor Snell who died, they buried her a few days
ago. I thought that she would live, but she had a relapse. Next Lord
Aylward appeared with twelve soldiers and some porters who, I believe,
have run away now,—oh! you can guess, you can guess. He wanted my
people to carry me off somewhere, to the coast, I suppose, but they were
faithful to me and would not. Then he set his soldiers on to maltreat
them. They shot several of them and flogged them on every opportunity;
they were flogging one of them just now, I heard them. Well, the poor
men made me understand that they could bear it no longer and must do
what he told them.
“And so, Alan, as I was quite hopeless and helpless, I made up my mind
to kill myself, hoping that God would forgive me and that I should find
you somewhere, perhaps after sleeping a while, for it was better to die
than to be given into the power—of that man. I thought that he was
coming for me just now and I was about to do it, but it was you
instead, Alan, _you_, and only just in time. That is all the story, and
I hope you will not think that I have acted very foolishly, but I did
it for the best. If you only knew what I have suffered, Alan, what I
have gone through in one way and another, I am sure that you would not
judge me harshly; also I kept dreaming that you were in trouble and
wanted me to come to you, and of course I knew where you were gone and
had that map. Send him away, Alan, for I am still so weak and I cannot
bear the sight of his face. If you knew everything, you would
understand.”
Alan turned on Aylward and in a cold, quiet voice asked him what he had
to say to this story.
“I have to say, Major Vernon, that it is a clever mixture of truth and
falsehood. It is true that your cousin, Champers-Haswell, had been
proved guilty of some very shameful conduct. For instance, it appears
that he did forge, or rather cause to be forged that Firman from the
Sultan, although I knew nothing of this until it was publicly
repudiated. It is also true that fearing exposure he entirely lost his
head and spent not only his own great fortune but that of Miss Champers
also, in trying to support Sahara shares. I admit also that I sold many
hundreds of thousands of those shares in the ordinary way, having made
up my mind to retire from business when I was raised to the peerage. I
admit further, what you knew before, that I was attached to Miss
Champers and wished to marry her. Why should I not, especially as I had
a good deal to offer to a lady who has been proved to be almost without
fortune?
“For the rest she set out secretly on this mad journey to Africa,
whither both my duty as her trustee and my affection prompted me to
follow her. I found her here recovering from an illness, and since she
has dwelt upon the point, in self-defence I must tell you that whatever
has taken place between us, has been with her full consent and
encouragement. Of course I allude only to those affectionate amenities
which are common between people who purpose to marry as soon as
opportunity may offer.”
At this declaration poor Barbara gasped and leaned back against her
pillow. Alan stood silent, though his lips turned white, while Jeekie
thrust his big head through the tent opening and stared upwards.
“What are you looking at, Jeekie?” asked Alan irritably.
“Seem to want air, Major, also look to see if clouds tumble. Believe
partickler big lie do that sometimes. Please go on, O good Lord, for
Jeekie want his breakfast.”
“As regards the execution of two of Miss Champers’ bearers and the
flogging of some others, these punishments were inflicted for mutiny,”
went on Aylward. “It was obviously necessary that she should be moved
back to the coast, but I found out that they were trying to desert her
in a body and to tamper with my own servants, and so was obliged to
take strong measures.”
“Sure those clouds come down now,” soliloquized Jeekie, “or
least something rummy happen.”
“I have only to add, Major Vernon, that unless you make away with me
first, as I daresay you will, as soon as we reach civilization again I
shall proceed against you and this fellow for the cold-blooded murder
of my men, in punishment of which I hope yet to live to see you hanged.
Meanwhile, I have much pleasure in releasing Miss Champers from her
engagement to me which, whatever she may have said to you in England,
she was glad enough to enter on here in Africa, a country of which I
have been told the climate frequently deteriorates the moral
character.”
“Hear, hear!” ejaculated Jeekie, “he say something true at
last; by accident, I think, like pig what find pearl in muck-heap.”
“Hold your tongue, Jeekie,” said Alan. “I do not intend to
kill you, Lord Aylward, or to do you any harm——”
“Nor I neither,” broke in Jeekie, “all I do to my Lord just
for my Lord’s good; who Jeekie that he wish to hurt noble British
’ristocrat?”
“But I do intend that it shall be impossible that Miss Champers should
be forced to listen to more of your insults,” went on Alan, “and to
make sure that your gun does not go off again as it did this morning.
So, Lord Aylward, until we have settled what we are going to do, I must
keep you under arrest. Take him to his tent, Jeekie, and put a guard
over him.”
“Yes, Major, certainly, Major. Right turn, march! my Lord, and quick,
please, since poor, common Jeekie not want dirty his black finger
touching you.”
Aylward obeyed, but at the door of the tent swung round and favoured
Alan with a very evil look.
“Luck is with you for the moment, Major Vernon,” he said,
“but if you are wise you will remember that you never have been and
never will be my match. It will turn again, I have no doubt, and then
you may look to yourself, for I warn you I am a bad enemy.”
Alan did not answer, but for the first time Barbara sprang to her feet
and spoke.
“You mean that you are a bad man, Lord Aylward, and a coward too, or
otherwise you would not have tortured me as you have done. Well, when it
seemed impossible that I should escape from you except in one way, I
was saved by another way of which I never dreamed. Now I tell you that
I do not fear you any more. But I think,” she added slowly, “that you
would do well to fear for yourself. I don’t know why, but it comes into
my mind that though neither Alan nor I shall lift a finger against you,
you have a great deal of which to be afraid. Remember what I said to
you months ago when you were angry because I would not marry you. I
believe it is all coming true, Lord Aylward.”
Then Barbara turned her back upon him, and that was the last time that
either she or Alan ever saw his face.
He was gone, and Barbara, her head upon her lover’s shoulder and her
sweet eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude, was beginning to tell
him everything that had befallen her when suddenly they heard a loud
cough outside the tent.
“It’s that confounded Jeekie,” said Alan, and he called to
him to come in.
“What’s the matter now?” he asked crossly.
“Breakfast, Major. His lordship got plenty good stores, borrow some from
him and give him chit. Coming in one minute—hot coffee, kipper herring,
rasher bacon, also butter (best Danish), and Bath Oliver biscuit.”
“Very well,” said Alan, but Jeekie did not move.
“Very well,” repeated Alan.
“No, Major, not very well, very ill. Thought those lies bring down
clouds.”
“What do you mean, Jeekie?”
“Mean, Major, that Asiki smelling about this camp. Porter-man what go to
fetch water see them. Also believe they catch rest of those soldier
chaps and polish them, for porter-man hear the row.”
Alan sprang up with an exclamation; in his new-found joy he had
forgotten all about the Asiki.
“Keep hair on, Major,” said Jeekie cheerfully; “don’t
think they attack yet, plenty of time for breakfast first. When they
come we make it very hot for them, lots of rifle and cartridge now.”
“Can’t we run away?” asked Barbara.
“No, Missy, can’t run; must stop here and do best. Camp well built,
open all round, don’t think they take it. You leave everything to
Jeekie, he see you through, but p’raps you like come breakfast outside,
where you know all that go on.”
Barbara did like, but as it happened they were allowed to consume their
meal in peace, since no Asiki appeared. As soon as it was swallowed she
returned to her tent, while Alan and Jeekie set to work to strengthen
the defences of the little camp as well as they were able, and to make
ready and serve out the arms and ammunition.
About midday a man whom they had posted in a tree that grew inside the
camp announced that he saw the enemy, and next moment a company of them
rushed towards them across the open and were greeted by a volley which
killed and wounded several men. At this exhibition of miraculous power,
for none of these soldiers had ever heard the report of firearms or
seen their effect, they retreated rapidly, uttering shouts of dismay
and carrying their dead and wounded with them.
“Do you suppose they have gone, Jeekie?” asked Alan anxiously.
He shook his head.
“Think not, Major, think they frightened, by big bullet magic, and go
consult priest. Also only a few of them here, rest of army come later
and try rush us to-morrow morning before dawn. That Asiki custom.”
“Then what shall we do, Jeekie? Run for it or stop here?”
“Think must stop here, Major. If we bolt, carrying Miss Barbara, who
can’t walk much, they follow on spoor and catch us. Best stick inside
this fence and see what happen. Also once outside p’raps porters desert
and leave us.”
So as there was nothing else to do they stayed, labouring all day at the
strengthening of their fortifications till at length the boma or fence
of boughs, supported by earth, was so high and thick that while any
were left to fire through the loopholes, it would be very difficult to
storm by men armed with spears.
It was a dreadful and arduous day for Alan, who now had Barbara’s safety
to think of, Barbara with whom as yet he had scarcely found time to
exchange a word. By sunset indeed he was so worn out with toil and
anxiety that he could scarcely stand upon his feet. Jeekie, who all
that afternoon had been strangely quiet and reflective, surveyed him
critically, then said:
“You have good drink and go sleep a bit, Major. Very good little shelter
there by Miss Barbara’s tent, and you hold her hand if you like
underneath the canvas, which comforting and all correct. Jeekie never
get tired, he keep good lookout and let you know if anything happen,
and then you jump up quite fresh and fight like tom-cat in corner.”
At first Alan refused to listen, but when Barbara added her entreaties
to those of Jeekie he gave way, and ten minutes later was as soundly
asleep as he had ever been in his life.
“Keep eye on him, Miss Barbara, and call me if he wake. Now I go give
noble lord his supper and see that he quite comfortable. Jeekie seem
very busy to-night, just like when Major have dinner-party at Yarleys
and old cook get drunk in kitchen.”
If Barbara could have followed Jeekie’s movements for the next few
hours, she would probably have agreed that he was busy. First he went
to Aylward’s tent, and as he had said he would, gave him his supper,
and with it half a bottle of whisky from the stores which he had been
carrying about with him for some time, as he said, to prevent the
porters from getting at it. Aylward would drink little, though as his
arms were tied to the tent-pole, Jeekie sat beside him and fed him like
a baby, conversing pleasantly with him all the while, informing him
amongst other things that he had better say “big prayer,” because the
Asiki would probably cut his throat before morning.
Aylward, who was in a state of sullen fury, scarcely replied to this
talk, except to say that if so, there was one comfort, they would cut
his and his master’s also.
“Yes, Lord,” answered Jeekie, “that quite true, so drink
to next meeting, though I think you go different place to me, and when
you got tail and I wing, you horn and I crown of glory, of course we
not talk much together,” and he held a mug of whisky and water—a great
deal of whisky and a very little water—to his prisoner’s mouth.
Aylward drained it, feeling a need for stimulant.
“There,” said Jeekie, holding it upside down, “you drink
every drop and not offer one to poor old Jeekie. Well, he turned
teetotaller, so no matter. Good-night, my Lord, I call you if Asiki
come.”
“Who are the Asiki?” asked Aylward drowsily.
“Oh! you want to know? I tell you,” and he began a long, rambling
story.
Before he ever came to the end of it Aylward had fallen on his side and
was fast asleep.
“Dear me!” said Jeekie, contemplating him, “that whisky very
strong, though bottle say same as they drink in House of Common. That
whisky so strong I think I pour away rest of it,” and he did to the
last drop, even taking the trouble to wash out the bottle with water.
“Now you no tempt anyone,” he said, addressing the said bottle with a
very peculiar smile, “or if you tempt, at least do no harm—like kiss
down telephone!” Then he laid down the bottle on its side and left the
tent.
Outside of it three of the head porters, who appeared to be friends of
his, were waiting for him, and with these men he engaged in low and
earnest conversation. Next, after they had arrived at some agreement,
which they seemed to ratify by a curious oath that involved their
crossing and clasping hands in an odd fashion, and other symbols known
to West African secret societies, Jeekie went the round of the camp to
see that everyone was at his post. Then he did what most people would
have thought a very curious and strange thing, namely climbed the fence
and vanished into the forest, where presently a sound was heard as of
an owl hooting.
A little while later and another owl began to hoot in the distance,
whereat the three head porters nudged each other. Perhaps they had
heard such owls hoot before at night, and perhaps they knew that
Jeekie, who had “passed Bonsa,” could only be harmed by the direct
command of Bonsa speaking through the mouth of the Asika herself. Still
they might have been interested in the nocturnal conversation of those
two owls, which, as is common with such magical fowl in West Africa,
had transformed themselves into human shapes, the shape of Jeekie and
the shape of an Asiki priest, who was, as it happened, a blood relation
of Jeekie.
“Very good, Brother,” said Owl No. 1; “all you want is this
white man whom the Asika desires for a husband. Well, I have done my
best for him, but I must think of myself and others, and he goes to
great happiness. I have given him something to make him sleep; do you
come presently with eight men, no more, or we shall kill you, to the
fence of the camp, and we will hand over the white man, Vernoon, to you
to take back to the Asika, who will give you a wonderful reward, such a
reward as you have never imagined. Now let me hear your word.”
Then Owl No. 2 answered:
“Brother, I make the bargain on behalf of the army, and swear to it by
the double Swimming Head of Bonsa. We will come and take the white man,
Vernoon, who is to be Mungana, and carry him away. In return we promise
not to follow or molest you, or any others in your camp. Indeed, why
should we, who do not desire to be killed by the dreadful magic that
you have, a magic that makes a noise and pierces through our bodies
from afar? What were the words of the Asika? ’Bring back Vernoon, or
perish. I care for nothing else, bring back Vernoon to be my husband.’”
“Good,” said Owl No. 1, “within the half of an hour Vernoon
shall be ready for you.”
“Good,” answered Owl No. 2, “within half an hour eight of us
will be without the east face of your camp to receive him.”
“Silently?”
“Silently, my brother in Bonsa. If he cries out we will gag him. Fear
not, none shall know your part in this matter.”
“Good, my brother in Bonsa. By the way, how is Big Bonsa? I fear that
the white man, Vernoon, hurt him very much, and that is why I give him
up—because of his sacrilege.”
“When I left the god was very sick and all the people mourned, but
doubtless he is immortal.”
“Doubtless he is immortal, my brother, a little hard magic in his
stomach—if he has one—cannot hurt _him_. Farewell, dear
brother in Bonsa, I wish that I were you to get the great reward that
the Asika will give to you. Farewell, farewell.”
Then the two owls flitted apart again, hooting as they went, till they
came to their respective camps.
Jeekie was in the tent performing a strange toilet upon the sleeping
Aylward by the light of a single candle. From his pouch he produced the
mask of linen painted with gold that Alan used to be forced to wear,
and tied it securely over Aylward’s face, murmuring:
“You always love gold, my Lord Aylward, and Jeekie promise you see
plenty of it now.”
Then he proceeded to remove his coat, his waistcoat, his socks, and his
boots and to replace these articles of European attire by his own worn
Asiki sandals and his own dirty Asiki robe.
“There,” he said, “think that do,” and he studied him
by the light of the candle. “Same height, same colour hair, same dirty
clothes, and as Asiki never see Major’s face because he always wear mask
in public, like as two peas on shovel. Oh my! Jeekie clever chap, Jeekie
devilish clever chap. But when Asika pull off that mask to give him true
lover kiss, OH MY! wonder that happen then? Think whole of Bonsa Town
bust up; think big waterfall run backwards; think she not quite
pleased; think my good Lord find himself in false position; think
Jeekie glad to be on coast; think he not go back to Bonsa Town no more.
Oh my aunt! no, he stop in England and go church twice on Sunday,” and,
pressing his big hands on the pit of his stomach he rocked and rolled
in fierce, silent laughter.
Then an owl hooted again immediately beneath the fence and Jeekie,
blowing out the candle, opened the flap of the tent and tapped the head
porter, who stood outside, on the shoulder. He crept in and between
them they lifted the senseless Aylward and bore him to the V-shaped
entrance of the boma which was immediately opposite to the tent and,
oddly enough, half open. Here the two other porters with whom Jeekie
had performed some ceremony, chanced to be on guard, the rest of their
company being stationed at a distance. Jeekie and the head porter went
through the gap like men carrying a corpse to midnight burial, and
presently in the darkness without two owls began to hoot.
Now Aylward was laid upon a litter that had been prepared, and eight
white-robed Asiki bearers stared at his gold mask in the faint
starlight.
“I suppose he is not dead, brother,” said Owl No. 2 doubtfully.
“Nay, brother,” said Owl No. 1, “feel his heart and his
pulse. Not dead, only drunk. He will wake up by daylight, by which time
you should be far upon your way. Be good and gentle to the white man
Vernoon, who has been my master. Be careful, too, that he does not
escape you, brother, for as you know he is very strong and cunning. Say
to the Asika that Jeekie her servant makes his reverence to her, and
hopes that she will have many, many happy years with the husband that
he sends her; also that she will remember him whom she called ‘black
dog,’ and whose face she often smacked, in her prayers to the gods and
spirits of our people.”
“It shall be done, brother, but why do you not return with us?”
“Because, brother, I have ties across the Black Water—dear
children, almost white—whom I love so much that I cannot leave them.
Farewell, brethren, the blessings of the Bonsas be on you, and may you
grow fat and prosper in the love and favour of our lady the Asika.”
“Farewell,” they murmured in answer. “Good fortune be your
bedfellow.”
Another minute and they had lifted up the litter and vanished at a
swinging trot into the shadow of the trees. Jeekie returned to the camp
and ordered the three men to re-stop the gateway with thorns, muttering
in their ears:
“Remember, brethren, one word of this and you die, all of you, as those
die who break the oath.”
“Have we not sworn?” they whispered, as they went back to their
posts.
Jeekie stood a while in front of the empty tent and if any had been
there to note him, they might have seen a shadow as of compunction
creep over his powerful black face.
“When he wake up he won’t know where he are,” he reflected,
“and when he get to Bonsa Town he’ll wonder where he is, and when
he meet Asika! Well, he very big blackguard; try to murder Major, whom
Jeekie nurse as baby, the only thing that Jeekie care
for—except—Jeekie; try to make love to Miss Barbara against will when
he catch her alone in forest, which not playing game. Jeekie self not
such big blackguard as that dirt-born noble Lord; Jeekie never murder
no one—not quite; Jeekie never make love to girl what not want him—no
need, so many what do that he have to shove them off, like good
Christian man. Mrs. Jeekie see to that while she live. Also better that
mean white man go call on Bonsas than Major and Missy Barbara and all
porters, and Jeekie—specially Jeekie—get throat cut. No, no, Jeekie
nothing to be ashamed of, Jeekie do good day’s work, though Jeekie keep
it tight as wax since white folk such silly people, and when Major in a
rage, he very nasty customer and see everything upside down. Now,
Jeekie quite tired, so say his prayers and have nap. No, think not in
tent, though very comfortable. Major might wake up, poke his nose in
there, and if he see black face instead of white one, ask ugly
question, which if Jeekie half asleep he no able to answer nice and
neat. Still he just arrange things a little so they look all right.”