SPOFFORTH, MACGREGOR, AND THE LIONESS
Robert MacGregor pulled a pipe from his pocket and leisurely filled it
with Boer tobacco. His slow, deliberate way contrasted forcibly with
Wilmshurst's quick, incisive manner; his slow dialect would have
irritated the subaltern beyond measure but for the fact that he guessed
the Rhodesian to be of Scots descent.
Dudley noticed particularly that MacGregor had referred to his brother
in the past tense. It sounded ominous.
"Was a chum?" he repeated with an accent on the first word.
"In a sense, yes," replied MacGregor. "We went for a couple of trips
into German East. The last time was just before the war. You know why
we went?"
"It was in connection with a hidden store of ammunition, I believe,"
replied Wilmshurst.
The Rhodesian nodded slowly, puffing steadily at his pipe.
"Rupert found a mare's nest, I fancy," he continued. "At any rate,
before we made any really important discoveries I had to go back to
Jo'burg. Had no option, so to speak. Then, in connection with the
same business, I penetrated into German South-West Africa. I was in
Bersheba for nearly a fortnight before I heard that war had broken out,
and the first intimation I had was being put under arrest and sent up
country to Windhoek.
"When Botha overrun the colony I was released and offered a sound job
at Walfisch Bay--fairly important Government appointment in connection
with the distilling plant. That completed I thought I'd trek back to
Rhodesia and do a bit in German East. Thinking I would do the trip
round quicker by sea I took passage on the _Ibex_, a tramp of about two
thousand tons, and within twelve hours of leaving Walfisch Bay the boat
was captured by the _Porfurst_."
"I hope I'm not tiring you with too many questions," said Wilmshurst
after he had made several enquiries respecting his brother. The
answers received were far from satisfactory, for MacGregor seemed to
make a point of "switching off" the subject of Rupert Wilmshurst and
dwelling at length on his own adventures.
"Not at all," replied the Rhodesian. "As regards your brother you may
get in touch with him, but German East is a whacking big country. Are
you part of a brigade?" he asked.
"We're just the 'Waffs,'" replied Dudley. "The West African Field
Force, you know. As regards numbers or our scene of action I haven't
the remotest idea at present. I don't believe that even the colonel
knows."
"At any rate," continued MacGregor, "I think I'll see your colonel and
get him to let me proceed in the _Zungeru_. It doesn't very much
matter whether I join the Rhodesian contingent, although I'd prefer to,
or get attached to one of the Boer detachments, or even your crush, if
they'd have me. I don't want to brag, Mr. Wilmshurst, but I'd be
mighty useful, knowing the country as I do."
MacGregor's application met with favourable consideration, although he
did not tell Wilmshurst the result of the interview with the colonel
until the transports dropped anchor in Table Bay and the rest of the
released men went ashore.
Bad weather off Cape Agulhas made the rounding of the southernmost part
of Africa a disagreeable business, but in ideal climatic conditions the
convoy, with two destroyers still on escort duties, approached Cape
Delgado, beyond which the territory of German East commences.
The short tropical dusk was deepening into night when two tramp
steamers were sighted, bearing N.N.E. In obedience to a signal from
one of the destroyers they revealed themselves as two Dutch trading
ships bound from Batavia to Rotterdam, but driven out of their course
by a succession of gales at the commencement of the south-west monsoon.
Commanded to heave-to both vessels were boarded by examination officers
from the destroyer, but their papers being quite in order and nothing
of a suspicious nature discovered amongst the cargo they were allowed
to proceed.
At daybreak the convoy learnt that both vessels had been shelled and
destroyed by a British cruiser, but not in time to prevent them landing
two batteries of 4.1 inch Krupp field-guns at the mouth of the Mohoro
river.
"Rough luck those vessels slipping through the blockade like that,"
commented Spofforth. "Those guns are as good as a couple of battalions
of Askaris to the Huns."
"Never mind," rejoined Danvers. "It'll put a bit of heart into Fritz
and make him buck up. That'll give us a chance of smelling powder."
"Perhaps," said Wilmshurst. "I heard the major say that field
artillery was more of a drag than a benefit to the Boers in the South
African War. It destroyed their mobility to a great extent, and not
until we had captured most of the guns did the Boer start proper
guerilla tactics--and you know how long that lasted."
"Hanged if I want to go foot-slogging the whole length and breadth of
German East," commented Danvers. "I'd rather tackle a dozen batteries
than tramp for a twelve-month on end. So this is that delightful spot,
Kilwa?"
He pointed to a long, low-lying expanse of land, covered with trees.
Away to the northward the ground rose, forming a plateau of coral
nearly fifty feet above the sea, and on which many huge baobab trees
were growing. The shores surrounding the harbour were low and covered
with mangroves, but in and out could be discerned several lofty hills.
Here and there could be seen isolated native huts, while at the head of
the harbour clustered the thatch and tin-roofed houses of the German
settlement, which had for several months been in British occupation.
With their systematic thoroughness the Huns had vastly improved the
health of the hitherto miasmic-infested port, following the principles
adopted by the Americans during the construction of the Panama Canal.
Consequently much of the terrors of the fever-stricken port of Kilwa in
by-gone days had disappeared, and with the continuance of ordinary
precautions the place offered a suitable base for the columns about to
operate between the Mohoro and Rovuma rivers.
Without undue delay the Waffs were disembarked and sent under canvas on
fairly high ground at some distance from the harbour. For the next
week intense activity prevailed, the men being strenuously subjected to
the acclimatising process, while the horses and mules had to be
carefully watched lest the deadly sleeping-sickness should make its
appearance at the commencement of the operations and thus place the
troops under severe disadvantages.
The officers, too, were not spared. Drills and parades over they had
to attend lectures, tactical problems having to be worked out by the
aid of military maps.
These maps, based upon German surveys, were the most accurate
obtainable, but even then they left much to be desired. Subsequent
knowledge of the country showed that frequently roads and native paths
were indicated that had no actual existence, while on the other hand
passable tracks were discovered that were not shown on the maps. More
than likely the wily Huns allowed what were presumed to be official
maps to fall into the hands of the British, having taken particular
care to make them misleading. It was but one of many examples of the
way in which Germany prepared for war not only in Europe but in her
territorial appendages beyond the sea.
MacGregor landed with the troops and was given a semi-official position
as scout and attached to the same battalion to which Wilmshurst
belonged. Gradually his taciturnity diminished, until he developed
into a fairly communicative individual and was generally popular with
the Mess.
During the stay in camp at Kilwa Wilmshurst, Danvers, Spofforth and
Laxdale snatched the opportunity of going on a lion-hunting expedition,
MacGregor on their invitation accompanying them.
Taking .303 Service rifles, for which a supply of notched bullets was
provided (for game shooting purposes only these terribly destructive
missiles are allowable), and with Sergt. Bela Moshi and half a dozen
Haussas as attendants the five men left Kilwa camp at about two hours
before sunset.
An hour and ten minutes' ride brought them to a native village where
several lions had been terrorising the inhabitants by their nocturnal
depredations. Here the horses were left under the charge of one of the
Haussas, and the party set out on foot into the bush.
"Think we'll have any luck, MacGregor?" asked Laxdale. "Hanged if I
want to spend all night lugging a rifle about without the chance of a
shot."
The Rhodesian smiled dourly. He knew the supreme optimism of amateur
huntsmen and the general disinclination of the King of Beasts to be
holed by a bullet.
"Unless a lion is ravenously hungry he will not put in an appearance,"
he replied. "Of course we might strike his spoor and follow him up.
We'll see what luck we get when the moon rises."
For some distance the party travelled in silence. With the darkness a
halt was called, for until the bush was flooded with the strong
moonlight further progress was almost impossible.
Away on the right, at not so very great a distance, came the bleat of a
goat, while further away still could be heard the awe-inspiring roar of
the lions after their prey.
"Hanged if I like the idea of those huge brutes leaping right upon us,"
whispered Spofforth. "I, being the tallest of the crush, will be sure
to bear the brunt of his leap."
Spofforth was the giant of the battalion, standing six feet four inches
in his socks, and proportionately broad of shoulder and massive of
limb. At the last regimental sports he carried off the running,
long-jump and hurdle events, while as a boxer and a wrestler he was a
match for most men, yet he expressed his fears with all sincerity,
inwardly wishing for the rising of the moon.
The Haussas, too, were far from comfortable. Had they their wish they
would have lighted a roaring fire, one of the most effective though not
infallible means of keeping wild animals at bay.
The fifty minutes' halt in the desolate bush terminated when the deep
orange-hued orb of night rose above the distant sea. As the shadows
shortened the trek was resumed, each man keeping his loaded rifle ready
for instant use.
Before they had gone two hundred yards, following a native path on
which the spoor of a couple of lions was distinctly visible, Laxdale
suddenly disappeared, while Wilmshurst, who was walking hard on his
heels, was only just able to save himself from following his example.
Followed a great commotion in which the luckless subaltern's shouts
mingled with the terrified bleating of a goat.
"Help us out, you fellows," cried Laxdale in desperation. "I've a
whole menagerie for company by the feel of it."
"You'll scare every lion within five miles of us, laddie," expostulated
MacGregor, kneeling at the edge of the pitfall and peering into the
darkness within.
With the assistance of his electric torch Wilmshurst made the discovery
that the trap was a hole of about twelve feet in depth and about the
same distance in length. In breadth it overlapped the path, its
presence being skilfully concealed by branches of trees overlaid with
broad leaves on which earth had been thrown and lightly pressed so as
to give it the appearance of part of the beaten track. In the floor of
the pit pointed stakes had been driven, but fortunately Laxdale had
fallen between them and thus escaped being impaled. His sole companion
was a goat that, left without food and water, was to act as a decoy to
the lions. Evidently the pitfall had been recently dug, otherwise the
spoor of the beasts would not be visible on both sides of it.
"Dash the villagers!" exclaimed Spofforth impetuously. "Why the deuce
didn't the headsman give us warning of the beastly trap? Here, Beta
Moshi, cut a couple of young trees and knock up a ladder. Cheer-o,
Laxdale, dear boy. Just try and imagine you've found the better 'ole."
"Imagination goes a long way," retaliated the imprisoned sub., "but you
just jump down and put your suggestion to the practical test. I
believe I'm being chawn up by white ants, and I'm certain that the
jiggers are already tackling my toes."
Promptly Bela Moshi set the Haussas to work, and a rough-and-ready
ladder having been constructed, Laxdale, little the worse for his
unexpected tumble, was released from the pitfall.
The journey was resumed. Contrary to MacGregor's assertion the lions
had not been frightened away, for their deep, characteristic roar could
be heard with greater distinctness than before, although they were a
good distance away.
MacGregor looked like proving a true prophet, however, for after
following a fresh spoor for miles the hunters drew blank. At the edge
of a pool of stagnant water the tracks ended abruptly.
"I don't fancy that water-hole," said Wilmshurst. "It savours of
mosquitoes and other pests. How goes the time?"
Danvers consulted his wristlet watch.
"Nearly four o'clock," he announced. "If we are to be in camp by eight
we'll have to look slippy."
A rustling sound in the grass within a few yards of the spot where the
hunters were standing attracted their attention. With rifles ready to
open fire they waited. They could see the coarse tufts waving in the
moonlight.
"Stand by!" exclaimed Wilmshurst, handing his rifle to Bela Moshi, and
before his companions could grasp the situation the subaltern plunged
into the grass, made a sudden dash, and was back with a healthy young
lion cub in his arms.
"We've bagged something, at all events," he remarked triumphantly.
"The little beggar got adrift, I suppose."
"What are you going to do with it, old man?" asked Spofforth
facetiously. "Use it as a decoy or train it to guard your kit in camp?"
"Just as likely as not the cub will act as a decoy," said Laxdale.
"Let the little brute yap a bit."
"He's yapping quite enough as it is," rejoined Wilmshurst. "Hanged if
we can hear anything with that noise. I hope you fellows are keeping
on the alert?"
"MacGregor's doing that," replied Danvers, indicating the silent form
of the Rhodesian, as he stood motionless as a statue, with his rifle
ready for instant use.
"Hear anything, MacGregor?" enquired Spofforth.
The man shook his head.
"Thought I did," he replied, "but I must have been mistaken."
Giving the cub into the care of Bela Moshi, Wilmshurst followed his
companions as they tramped in single file along the narrow bush track,
the Haussas tailing on to the end of the procession.
The edge of the bush was almost reached when Laxdale, with a splendid
shot at a hundred and twenty yards, brought down a large panther. A
halt was made while the blacks skinned the dead beast, for in
practically waterless districts panther-skin is a valuable aid to the
efficiency of a Maxim gun. Soaked in water, wrapped round the jacket
of the weapon, the evaporation keeps the gun cooler for a longer time
than if the water within the jacket alone were used.
Upon coming within sight of the camp the white men were able to walk
side by side in comparatively open country.
MacGregor, Laxdale, and Danvers were on ahead, Spofforth and Wilmshurst
about fifty paces behind, Bela Moshi with the cub was close on Dudley's
heels, while the Haussas with the dead panther were some distance in
the rear, the blacks carrying the officers' rifles since the hunters
were clear of the bush.
"I'll take the cub," said Wilmshurst, noticing that the native sergeant
was stumbling frequently as he carefully nursed the somewhat fretful
animal.
"Berry good, sah," replied Bela Moshi, handing the cub to the
subaltern. "I tink, sah, dat----"
A chorus of yells and warning shouts from the Haussas made the officers
turn pretty sharply. What they saw was something that they had badly
wanted to see but at the present moment had not the faintest desire to
meet.
Leaping with prodigious bounds across the flat ground was an enormous
lioness. The devoted beast had followed her cub for miles, her
instinct telling her that when the men halted her opportunity would
come to recover the little animal. A lioness bereft of her cubs has
been known to follow hunters for days in order either to recover or
revenge her offspring. The sight of the large camp, however, must have
incited the gigantic feline to premature action.
Of the five white men only MacGregor retained his rifle. Laxdale and
Danvers took to their heels, making for a large baobab that stood about
fifty yards away. Strange to relate, MacGregor followed suit,
thrusting a clip of cartridges into the magazine of his rifle as he
ran. Wilmshurst, hampered by the cub, stood stock still, fascinated by
the awesome sight of the approaching lioness.
Ten yards in front of Wilmshurst stood Spofforth, swaying gently on his
toes, his bulky figure thrown slightly forward and his arms
outstretched.
"Run for it!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched, unnatural voice, but
without turning his head.
Wilmshurst disobeyed--for one thing he was unable to tear himself away;
his feet seemed rooted to the ground. For another, a sense of
camaraderie urged him to remain an impassive spectator of the impending
struggle between an unarmed man, who had voluntarily interposed his big
bulk between the hampered subaltern and the infuriated animal.
The lioness, roaring loudly, leapt. Spofforth closed just as her
forepaws touched the ground, and the next instant man and beast were
engaged in a terrible struggle.
The powerful officer clutched the lioness just below the jaws with both
hands, holding her in a vice-like grip. With his feet dug firmly, into
the ground he held, swaying to and fro but not giving an inch while the
cruel talons of the ferocious beast were lacerating his arms from
shoulder to wrist.
Exerting every ounce of strength Spofforth bore down, striving to
fracture the terrible jaws. Once the lioness succeeded in dealing him
a blow with her paw that, but for the protection afforded by his double
pith helmet would have brained the man. For a few seconds Spofforth
reeled, his head-gear fell to the ground, leaving his skull unprotected
should the lioness repeat the terrifically powerful stroke; yet not for
a moment did his grip release.
Through an eddying cloud of dust raised by the struggle Wilmshurst
watched the unequal conflict, until his will-power overcoming the
initial stages of hypnotic impotence, he threw the cub to the ground
and drew his knife.
With a sensation akin to that of a mild-tempered individual who essays
with his bare hands to separate two large and ferocious dogs engaged in
combat Wilmshurst edged towards the flank of the lioness with the
intention of hamstringing the tensioned sinews of her hind legs.
Before he could deliver the stroke Bela Moshi grasped his officer by
the shoulders and unceremoniously jerked him aside; then lifting a
rifle to his shoulders the Haussa sergeant pressed the trigger.
Down in a convulsive heap fell Spofforth and the lioness, the brute
frantically pawing both her antagonist and the dust in her death
agonies. Then with a sharp shudder the animal stretched herself and
died, while the subaltern, utterly exhausted, lay inertly upon the
ground, his rent sleeve stained with still spreading dark patches.
By that time Laxdale and Danvers were upon the scene. Temporary
bandages were applied to Spofforth's ugly-looking wounds, while the
greatly concerned Haussas improvised a litter made of rifles and coats.
Upon this the badly-mauled subaltern was placed and the journey resumed
towards the camp, the dead lioness and her very much alive cub being
carried in as trophies of the night's work.
"Where's MacGregor?" asked Wilmshurst.
Laxdale and Danvers exchanged enquiring glances.
"Hanged if I know," said the former. "The last I saw of him was when
he was making for the baobab. We were a set of blighters scooting off
and leaving old Spofforth to act like a modern Horatius."
All three subalterns knew that the Rhodesian was the only man on the
spot who had a rifle ready, yet generously they forbore to give
expression to their thoughts.
"See if you can find Mr. MacGregor," ordered Wilmshurst, addressing
Bela Moshi.
"Me go, sah," replied the sergeant, and promptly he set off towards the
baobab, keeping his eyes fixed upon the ground.
Arriving at the tree Bela Moshi rested his rifle against the trunk and
with the agility of a cat swarmed up to one of the lowermost branches.
Both Laxdale and Danvers could see that it was a different part of the
tree from that in which they had taken refuge.
Crouching on the enormous limb Bela Moshi remained motionless for a few
moments--a patch of huddled black and khaki hardly distinguishable from
the sun-baked bark. Then he dropped lightly to the ground and by a
movement of his arms signalled to some of the Haussas to approach.
"By Jove, Bela Moshi's found him!" exclaimed Danvers, and the three
subalterns hurried to the spot.
It was MacGregor they saw, lying face downwards on a bed of dried
grass. The Rhodesian was unconscious, but on examination no trace of
an injury could be found. In his panic he had succeeded in climbing
the tree as far as the lowermost branch and had been seized with a
sudden faintness.
While the three officers were bending over him MacGregor opened his
eyes. Gradually their haunted expression gave place to a look of
bewilderment, until he realised that he was surrounded by friends.
"By smoke!" he ejaculated. "I had cold feet with a vengeance--and
before a lot of niggers, too."
"So did we--that is, Danvers and I were in a mortal hurry to get out of
the way of the lioness," rejoined Laxdale. "Good old Spofforth bore
the brunt of it, and he's badly mauled."
"Is that so?" asked MacGregor. "I am sorry. It's a bad beginning,
this running away business. I only hope the colonel and the others
won't take it badly."
"Don't worry, old chap," said Danvers. "Feeling fit to foot it? Good.
We've got to get Spofforth back as quickly as possible."
Walking with difficulty MacGregor managed to keep pace with the three
officers, and presently the rough-and-ready stretcher was overtaken.
Upon arriving at the camp the medical staff were soon busy, with the
result that the wounds of the injured hunter were properly dressed.
"Not so serious as at first sight," declared the senior medical
officer. "Unless complications set in he'll be fit in a month, but
he'll carry the scars all his life."