Knowing that unless we advanced with more than ordinary speed we could
not hope to overtake our friends for several days--a stern chase being
proverbially a long one--we travelled a great part of the night as well
as all day; and on our third day after quitting the scene of the curious
hunt described in the last chapter, we descried the fugitives descending
the river about a quarter of a mile ahead of us.
Unhappily we made a stupid mistake at this time. Instead of waiting
until we were near enough to be recognised, we shouted to our friends
the moment we saw their canoe. I cannot say that we knew them to be our
friends, but we had every reason to suppose so. The result of our shout
was that they supposed us to be enemies, and paddled away as if for
their lives. It was in vain that we tried to show by signs that we were
not enemies.
"Yell!" cried Peterkin, turning to Makarooroo, who sat close behind him.
Our guide opened his huge mouth, and gave utterance to a yell that might
well have struck terror into the heart of Mars himself.
"Stop! stay!" cried Peterkin hastily. "I didn't mean a war-yell; I
meant a yell of--of _peace_."
"Me no hab a yell ob peace," said Makarooroo, with a look of perplexity.
"I should not suppose you had," observed Jack, with a quiet laugh, as he
dipped his paddle more energetically than ever into the stream.--"The
fact is, Peterkin, that we shall have to go in for a long chase. There
is no doubt about it. I see that there are at least four men in their
canoe, and if one of them is Mbango, as we have reason to believe, a
stout and expert arm guides them. But ho! give way! `never venture,
never win.'"
With that we all plied our paddles with our utmost might. The chase
soon became very exciting. Ere long it became evident that the crews of
the two canoes were pretty equally matched, for we did not, apparently,
diminish the distance between us by a single inch during the next
half-hour.
"What if it turns out not to be Mbango and his party after all?"
suggested Peterkin, who wielded his light paddle with admirable effect.
Jack, who sat in the bow, replied that in that case we should have to
make the best apology and explanation we could to the niggers, and
console ourselves with the consciousness of having done our best.
For some time the rapid dip of our paddles and the rush of our canoe
through the water were the only sounds that were heard. Then Peterkin
spoke again. He could never keep silence for any great length of time.
"I say, Jack, we'll never do it. If we had only another man, or even a
boy." (Peterkin glanced at Njamie's little son, who lay sound asleep at
the bottom of the boat.) "No, he won't do; we might as well ask a
mosquito to help us."
"I say, lads, isn't one of the crew of that canoe a woman?" said Jack,
looking over his shoulder, but not ceasing for an instant to ply his
paddle.
"Can't tell," answered Peterkin.--"What say you, Mak?"
"Ye-is, massa," replied the guide, with some hesitation. "Me tink dat
am be one ooman's arm what wag de paddil. Oh! yis, me sartin sure now,
dat am a ooman."
"That being the case," observed Jack, in a tone of satisfaction, "the
chase won't last much longer, for a woman's muscles can't hold out long
at such a pace. Ho! give way once more."
In less than five minutes the truth of Jack's remark became apparent,
for we began rapidly to overhaul the fugitives. This result acted with
a double effect: while it inspirited us to additional exertion, it
depressed those whom we were pursuing, and so rendered them less capable
than before of contending with us. There was evidently a good deal of
excitement and gesticulation among them. Suddenly the man in the stern
laid down his paddle, and stooping down seized a gun, with which,
turning round, he took deliberate aim at us.
"That's rather awkward," observed Jack, in a cool, quiet way, as if the
awkwardness of the case had no reference whatever to him personally.
We did not, however, check our advance. The man fired, and the ball
came skipping over the water and passed us at a distance of about two
yards.
"Hum! I expected as much," observed Jack. "When a bad shot points a
bad gun at you, your best plan is to stand still and take your chance.
In such a case the chance is not a bad one. Hollo! the rascal seems
about to try it again. I say, boys, we must stop this."
We had now gained so much on the fugitives that we had reason to hope
that we might by signs enable them to understand that we were not
enemies. We had to make the attempt rather abruptly, for as Jack
uttered his last remark, the man in the stern of the canoe we were
chasing, having reloaded his gun, turned round to aim at us again. At
the same time the rest of the crew suddenly ceased to paddle, in order
to enable their comrade to take a steady aim. It was evident that they
rested all their hopes upon that shot disabling one of our number, and
so enabling them to escape. Seeing this, Makarooroo in desperation
seized his rifle and levelled it.
"No, no," said Peterkin, hastily holding up his hand. "Give me your
rifle, Mak; and yours, Ralph. Now then, stop paddling for a moment;
I'll try an experiment."
So saying, he sprang to his feet, and grasping a rifle in each hand,
held them high above his head, intending thus to show that we were
well-armed, but that we did not intend to use our weapons.
The device was happily successful: the man in the other canoe lowered
the gun with which he was in the act of taking aim at us.
"Now, boys, paddle slowly towards the bank," cried Peterkin, laying down
the rifles quickly and standing erect again with his empty hands
extended in the air, to confirm the fugitives in regard to our good
intentions. They understood the sign, and also turned toward the bank,
where in a few minutes both parties landed, at the distance of about two
hundred yards from each other.
"Mak, you had better advance alone," said Jack. "If it is Mbango and
his friends, they will know you at once. Don't carry your rifle; you
won't need it."
"Nay, Jack," I interposed; "you do not act with your usual caution.
Should it chance not to be Mbango, it were well that Mak should have his
rifle and a companion to support him."
"O most sapient Ralph," said Peterkin, "don't you know that Jack and I
have nothing to do but sit down on this bank, each with a double-barrel
in his hand, and if anything like foul play should be attempted, four of
the enemy should infallibly bite the dust at the same time? But you'd
better go with Mak, since you're so careful of him. We will engage to
defend you both.--Hollo, Puggy! take the line of our canoe here and
fasten it to yonder bush."
The latter part of this remark was addressed to Njamie's little boy,
whose name we had never learned, and who had been called Puggy by
Peterkin--not, let me remark, in anything approaching to a contemptuous
spirit. He evidently meant it as a title of endearment. We had tacitly
accepted it, and so had the lad, who for some time past had answered to
the name of Puggy, in utter ignorance, of course, as to its
signification.
Mak and I now advanced unarmed towards the negroes, and in a few seconds
we mutually recognised each other. I was overjoyed to observe the
well-known face of Okandaga, who no sooner recognised her lover than she
uttered a joyful shout and ran towards him. I at the same time advanced
to Mbango, and grasping his hand shook it warmly; but that good-hearted
chief was not satisfied with such a tame expression of good will.
Seizing me by the shoulders, he put forward his great flat nose and
rubbed mine heartily therewith. My first impulse was to draw back, but
fortunately my better judgment came to my aid in time, and prevented me
from running the risk of hurting the feelings of our black friend. And
I had at that time lived long enough to know that there is nothing that
sinks so bitterly into the human heart as the repulse, however slightly,
of a voluntary demonstration of affection. I had made up my mind that
if the dirtiest negro in all Africa should offer to rub noses with me, I
would shut my eyes and submit.
I observed among the crew of Mbango's canoe a female figure who
instantly attracted my attention and awakened my sympathy. She was
seated on a rock, paying no attention whatever to the events that were
occurring so near to her, and which, for aught she could tell, might be
to her matter of life or death. Her hands hung idly by her side; her
body was bowed forward; her head drooped on her breast; and her whole
appearance indicated a depth of woe such as I have never before seen
equalled.
I pointed to her and looked at Mbango in surprise. He looked first at
the woman and then at me, and shook his head mournfully; but being
unable to speak to me, or I to him, of course I could not gather much
from his looks.
I was about to turn to our guide, when the woman raised her head a
little, so that her face was exposed. I at once recognised the features
of Njamie, Mbango's favourite wife, and I was now at no loss to divine
the cause of her grief.
Starting up in haste, I ran away back at full speed towards the spot
where our canoe lay. Jack and Peterkin, seeing how matters stood, were
by that time advancing to meet us, and the little boy followed. I
passed them without uttering a word, seized the boy by the wrist, and
dragged him somewhat violently towards the place where his mother sat.
"Hollo, Ralph," shouted Peterkin as I passed, "see that you don't damage
my Puggy, else you'll have to--"
I heard no more. The next instant I stood beside Njamie, and placed her
boy before her. I have never in my life witnessed such a mingling of
intense eagerness, surprise, and joy, as was expressed by the poor woman
when her eyes fell on the face of her child. For one moment she gazed
at him, and the expressions I have referred to flitted, or rather
flashed, across her dusky countenance; then giving utterance to a
piercing shriek, she sprang forward and clasped her son to her bosom.
I would not have missed that sight for the world. I know not very well
what my thoughts were at the time, but the memory of that scene has
often since, in my musings, filled me with inexpressible gladness; and
in pondering the subject, I have felt that the witnessing of that
meeting has given additional force to the line in Scripture wherein the
word "love" alone is deemed sufficiently comprehensive to describe the
whole character of the Almighty.
Here, on the one hand, I beheld unutterable, indescribable woe; on the
other hand, unutterable, inconceivable joy--both, I should suppose, in
their extremest degree, and both resulting from pure and simple _love_.
I pondered this much at the time; I have pondered it often since. It is
a subject of study which I recommend to all who chance to read this
page.