JEFFERSON'S REMONSTRANCE
They were not long over the meal, and when Austin thrust his plate
aside, Jefferson, who had waited at least five minutes for him, rose
with a little twinkle, which seemed to express whimsical resignation, in
his eyes.
"And now there's something I'd rather leave alone to be done," he said.
"The launch is ready, and we'll go up and remonstrate with those
niggers. It's a little rough upon a man who is fond of a quiet life."
"One would scarcely have fancied that quietness had any great attraction
for you," said Austin. "Still, you probably know what pleases you better
than I do."
Jefferson laughed. "There are folks who seem to like being kicked, but
it's a sensation that doesn't appeal to everybody."
"You have a case of dynamite, too. Now, I had once an air-gun sent me, a
good many years ago, and I remember how I burned to go out and destroy
the neighbours' cats with it."
The American's face grew a trifle grim, and he looked at him with
half-closed eyes. "Well," he said, "I suppose that feeling's there, but
in a sense you're wrong. It isn't the only one. We put up a big bluff in
coming here at all, and it's nerve, and nothing else, that will have to
keep us where we are. There are no police or patrolmen in this country
to fall back upon, and you have to face the cold truth, which is this:
If one of those niggers clinched with you or me, he would mop the deck
with us in about two minutes. It's not a nice thing to admit, but there
it is."
Austin looked thoughtful, as, indeed, he was, for Jefferson, who, it
seemed, could look an unpleasant fact in the face, had gone straight to
the bottom of the question, as he usually did. The white man's
domination, it had to be admitted, largely depended upon his command of
machine guns and magazine rifles, but they had none of these on board
the _Cumbria_. They were no match for the negro as a muscular animal,
and there was only left them what Jefferson called bluff, which
apparently consisted of equal parts of hardihood and arrogance. Still,
there are respects in which it is difficult to distinguish between it
and genuine courage, and it was certainly apt to prove futile in that
land without the latter. Austin realised that since there was nothing
else available, they must do what they could with it, though this was
far from pleasing him. He had a dislike for anything which savoured of
assertive impudence.
They went up the creek in the little, clanking launch, eight limp and
perspiring white men, with knives and iron bars, under a scorching sun
that burned through their oil-stained garments. They slid through strips
of shadow where the belts of mire they skirted bubbled with the
emanations the heat sucked up from them, and slid across lake-like
reaches where the yellow water was dazzling to look upon. All the time,
endless ranks of mangroves crawled past them, and there was no sound but
the presumptuous clanking of the engine to break the deep silence of the
watery forest. The whole land seemed comatose with heat, and all that
had its being in it probably was so, for it is at night that nature
awakens in the swamps of the fever belt. Man alone was stirring, and the
puny noise of his activity jarred for a few moments on the great
stillness and then sank into it again.
Austin sat huddled in the launch's stern-sheets with his senses dulled
by the heat and glare, though the desolation of mire and mangroves
reacted on him. He knew, as he sometimes admitted, a little about a good
many things which were of no use to him, and he remembered then that the
vast quadrilateral of Northern Africa west of Egypt had absorbed several
civilisations long before the Portuguese saw its southern shores. They
had vanished, and left no mark on it, and it was plain that in the great
swamp belt, at least, the black man still lived very much as he had done
when the first mangroves crept out into the sea. It is a primitive
country, where man knows only the law of the jungle, and Jefferson, who
grasped that fact, was apparently ready to act upon it in the usual
primitive fashion.
There was, at first, no sign of life when the launch came into sight of
a little village hemmed in by the swamps. It had its attractiveness in
that country, for the clustering huts stood, half buried in foliage,
beneath towering cottonwoods, with a glaring strip of sand in front of
them. There were bananas, and, as Jefferson recognised, lime trees in
between. Still, by the time they approached the beach men came
floundering hastily out of the huts, and Austin was not greatly consoled
by the sight of them. They were big men, and wore very little to conceal
their splendid muscles. Some of them also carried long canoe paddles,
and one or two had wicked, corkscrew-headed spears. Austin wondered, a
little uneasily, whether they only speared fish with them, and looked
round to see what effect their appearance had upon his companions.
It was apparently not a great one. Jefferson was quietly grim; Tom, the
donkey-man, scornfully cheerful; while there was a little portentous
glint in the Canarios' eyes. Austin fancied he was the only one who had
the slightest doubt that anything their leader did would not be
altogether warranted. This, however, was comprehensible, for he was
aware that while the American's attitude towards the coloured people is,
perhaps, not altogether what it should be, the Western pioneer never
quite equalled the Iberian in his plan of subjugation. The Spaniard, at
least, did not send out Indian agents, or dole out rations of very
inferior beef.
They landed without molestation, and straightened themselves to make
what show they could, though there was nothing very imposing about any
of the party. The climate had melted the stiffness out of them, and
their garments, which were stained with oil, and rent by working cargo,
clung about their limbs soaked with perspiration. They looked, Austin
fancied, more like shipwrecked seamen than anything else. In fact, he
felt almost ashamed of himself, and that it was the negroes' own fault
if they did not unceremoniously fling them back into the creek. Still,
he realised that they were men who probably held their lives in their
hands, and had what appeared to be a singularly difficult task in front
of them. They were there to make it clear to the headman that it would
be wise of him to leave them alone, and Austin was quite willing to
supplement Jeffersons' efforts in this, though he was by no means sure
how it was to be accomplished. The negroes, so far as he could see, were
regarding them with a kind of derisive toleration.
In the meanwhile they were moving forward between patches of bananas,
and under a few glossy limes, while groups of dusky men kept pace with
them behind, until they reached a broad strip of sand with a big
cottonwood tree in the midst of it. There was a hut of rammed soil that
appeared more pretentious than the rest in front of them, and a man
stood waiting in the door of it. Jefferson stopped in the shadow when he
saw him.
"I'm going to sit down where it's cool," he said. "Any way, if that is
their headman, I'd sooner he came out to us."
He sat down, with his back to the tree, while the rest clustered round
him, a lean, dominant figure, in spite of his haggard face and the state
of his attire, and it seemed to Austin that there was a suggestion of
arrogant forcefulness in his attitude. The headman stood quietly in his
doorway, looking at him, while the negroes drew in a little closer. They
now seemed uncertain what to make of these audacious strangers, and
waited, glancing towards their leader, though there were, Austin
fancied, forty or fifty of them.
"Is there anybody here, who speaks English?" asked Jefferson.
It appeared that there was, for all along that coast there is a constant
demand for labour in the white men's factories, and a man who wore a
piece of cloth hung from his shoulder instead of the waist-rag, stood
forward at a sign from the headman. The latter had little cunning eyes
set in a heavy, fleshy face, and he, too, wore a piece of cloth, a sheet
of white cotton, which flowed about his tub-like body in graceful lines.
Negroes, like other people, fatten when they seize authority and live in
idleness upon the result of others' toil, for even the swamp belt
heathen who asks very little from life must now and then work or starve.
There are no charitable institutions to fall back upon in that country,
where the indigent is apt to be belaboured by his neighbours' paddles.
Then the headman, who did not leave his hut, conferred with the
interpreter, until the latter turned to Jefferson, whom he had, it
seemed, already pitched upon as leader.
"Them headman he done say--what the debbil you lib for here for?" he
announced.
"We have come for Funnel-paint," said Jefferson.
It was evident that the negro did not understand whom he meant, but when
Jefferson, assisted by the donkey-man, supplied him with a very
unflattering description of the delinquent, comprehension seemed to dawn
on him, and he once more conferred with his master.
"Him no one of we boy," he said. "Him dam bad 'teamboat bushman, sah.
Lib for here two three day. Now lib for go away."
Austin, who understood that the term bushman was not used in a
complimentary sense in those swamps, smiled as he noticed that seafaring
men were evidently also regarded there with no great favour, and glanced
at Jefferson inquiringly.
"He's probably lying," said the latter. "I've trailed Funnel-paint here,
and there's nowhere else he could live. I've been round to see. Any way,
he had a crowd of this rascal's boys with him when he came down to worry
me. We'll let him have that to figure on."
It cost him some trouble to make his meaning clear to the negro, while
when the latter in turn explained it to the headman, Austin noticed a
retrograde movement among several of those about them. They seemed
desirous of getting a little further away from the domineering white
man.
"I want those boys," said Jefferson, indicating the negroes who had
edged away. "Then I want some gum or ivory, or anything of that kind
your headman has, as a token he'll send me down Funnel-paint as soon as
he can catch him. He hasn't caught on to half of it. Help me out,
Austin."
Austin did what he could, and at last it became evident that the
interpreter grasped their meaning. This time there was, however, a
change in the attitude of the negro, which had hitherto appeared to be a
trifle conciliatory.
"None of my boys have been near your steamer. Go away before we drive
you out," was, at least, the gist of what he said.
Jefferson made a little contemptuous gesture, and pointed to one of the
negroes. "Tell him I want those boys, and it would be wise of him to
turn them up before the shadow crawls up to where that man is. If he
doesn't, I'll let a Duppy, Ju-Ju, or whatever he calls his fetish
devils, loose on him. He has about fifteen minutes to think the thing
over in."
Even with the help of the donkey-man they were some time in making this
comprehensible, and Austin glanced at his comrade when the headman's
answer came. It was a curt and uncompromising _non possumus_, and
Jefferson sighed.
"Of course," he said, "I saw it would come to this from the beginning,
and in one way I'm not sorry. I don't know what I'd have done with
Funnel-paint or his friends if I had got them, except that somehow I'd
'most have scared them out of their lives. Still, it seemed only decent
to give the headman a chance for himself. Now it will suit us
considerably better to scare him and the others all together. I'll wipe
that house of his out of existence inside twenty minutes."
Austin glanced at the house. It was larger than the others, and
comparatively well built, and, he fancied, probably of as much value to
its owner as a white man's mansion would be to him. This was clearly
not a time to be supersensitive, but he felt a trace of compunction.
"I don't know that I'd go quite so far myself," he said. "After all,
we're not sure that the headman is responsible."
"Then," said Jefferson, drily, "we'll make him, and you listen to me. We
may have to do quite a few things that aren't pretty, and we have no use
for sentimentality. We're just a handful of white men, with everything
to grapple with, and we'll be left alone to do it while these devils are
afraid of us, and not a moment longer. The fever may wipe half of us out
at any time, and we have got to make our protest now."
"It's the giant-powder I'm sticking at. No doubt it's a little absurd of
me--but I don't like it."
Jefferson laughed a trifle scornfully. "There's a good deal of what we
call buncome in most of you. You don't like things that
don't--look--pretty, pistols among them. Well, am I to be trampled on
whenever it happens that the other man is bigger than I?"
"The law is supposed to obviate that difficulty in a civilised
community."
"The man who gets the verdict is usually the one with the biggest
political pull or the most money, in the one I belong to, but that's not
quite the point just now. If you have a notion that the game's all in
our hands, look at them yonder."
Austin did so, and decided that, after all, Jefferson might be right.
The negroes had clustered together, and there were more of them now,
while all of them had spears or big canoe paddles. It was tolerably
evident that any sign of vacillation would bring them down upon the
handful of white men whose prestige alone had hitherto secured them from
molestation. If they failed to maintain it, and had to depend upon their
physical prowess, the result appeared as certain as it would be
unpleasant. The affair had resolved itself into a case of what Jefferson
termed bluff, a test of coolness and nerve, and Austin glanced a trifle
anxiously at the Spaniards. They were, he fancied, a little uneasy, but
it was clear that they had confidence in their leader, and they sat
still, though he could see one or two of them fingering the wicked
Canary knives. Their courage was, however, not of the kind that stands
the tension of uncertainty well, and he commenced to long that the
shadow would reach the trampled spot where the man Jefferson pointed to
had stood.
In the meanwhile it was creeping slowly across the hot white sand, and
he felt his heart beat as he watched it and the negroes, who commenced
to murmur and move uneasily. The white man's immobility had its effect
on them, and it seemed that Jefferson had done wisely in confiding in
the latter's ability to bear the longer strain. Still, Austin was not
sure that the impatience of the Spaniards might not spoil everything
after all. As regarded himself, he began to feel a curious and almost
dispassionate interest in the affair which almost prevented him
considering his personal part in it. He also noticed the intensity of
the sunlight, and the blueness of the shadows among the trees, as well
as the mirror-like flashing of the creek. It was, he fancied, the
artistic temperament asserting itself. Then he felt a little quiver run
through him when Jefferson stood up.
"We have to get it done," he said. "Keep those Canarios close behind
me."
They moved forward in a little phalanx, carrying staves and iron bars,
though Austin knew that a word would bring out the twinkling steel; and,
somewhat to his astonishment, the negroes fell back before them, and as
they approached it the headman scuttled out of his house. Jefferson
stopped outside it and taking a stick of yellow substance from his
pocket, inserted it in a cranny he raked out in the wall. Then he
lighted the strip of fuse and touched Austin's shoulder.
"Get those fellows back to the creek, but they're not to run," he said.
"The action of one stick of giant-powder is usually tolerably local, but
I don't want any of the niggers hoisted, either. Where's that
interpreter? Steady, we'll bring them down on us like a swarm of bees if
they see us lighting out before they understand the thing."
There was, Austin fancied, not much time to waste; but he managed to
impress the fact upon the Canarios that their haste must not be too
evident, and to make the negro understand that it was perilous to
approach the house. Then he overtook the Spaniards, and they moved back
in a body towards the launch, and stopped close by the beach. The
negroes also stood still, and all alike watched the little sputtering
trail of smoke creep up the side of the house. It showed blue in the
sunlight, though there was a pale sparkling in the midst of it.
Then a streak of light sprang out suddenly, and expanded into a blaze of
radiance. After it came the detonation, and a rolling cloud of thin
vapour, out of which there hurtled powdered soil and blocks of
hard-rammed mud. The vapour thinned and melted, and Austin saw that
there was no longer any front to the headman's house, while, as he
watched it, most of the rest fell in. He looked round to see what effect
it had on the negroes, but could not make out one of them. They had, it
seemed, gone silently and in haste. Then he heard Jefferson sigh as with
relief.
"Well," he said, "that's one thing done, and I'm glad we have come out
of it with a whole skin. We'll light out before somebody shows them
that we're only human, and spoils the thing."
They went on board the launch, but Austin felt curiously limp as she
clanked away down stream. The strain of the last half hour had told on
him, though he had not felt it to the full at the time. It was two
hours' steaming before they swept past the _Cumbria_, and a man on her
forecastle waved an arm to indicate that all was right on board her; but
Austin would not have had the time any shorter. He felt it was just as
well that village lay some distance from them. They went on to the strip
of sand where Jefferson had stored the coal and oil, and when they
reached it he stood up suddenly with an imprecation.
"Four puncheons gone! Funnel-paint has come out ahead of me, after all,"
he said. "Well, there's no use in worrying now, when he has got away
with them; but I'm going to stop down here to-night in case he comes
back again."
Then he swung the launch round with backed propeller, and in another few
minutes they were steaming back up stream towards the _Cumbria_. A tent
of some kind must be extemporised, for it is not wise of a white man to
spend the night unprotected in the fever swamps.