A TRUE MAN OR A TRAITOR?
It was in the early hours of the morning when "A" Company marched into
bivouac. The men dismissed, Wilmshurst wrote out his report, handed it
in and promptly fell sound asleep.
The colonel, wisely deciding that little could be done with men worn
out with sleeplessness and fatigue, issued orders that the pursuit
would be abandoned until the Haussas had recovered their usual form.
Meanwhile other columns were on the track of the raiders, who, but for
the vigilance and dogged determination of Lieutenant Sutton, would have
"wiped out" the Waffs' bivouac during the latter's wild-goose chase.
For five hours the young officer, assisted by Second-lieutenant Vipont
and a handful of Haussas, held the Huns at bay. With rifle, bayonet
and bomb the plucky sons of the Empire manned the frail defences, until
the enemy, unable to achieve their objective, retired before the
returning battalion could bring them to action.
"Hullo, Wilmshurst!" exclaimed Laxdale, as the three subalterns of "A"
company met just before a belated breakfast. "What happened to you?"
"A wash-out," replied Dudley. "Held on till five this morning, and
never a chance of a shot; or rather, when it came we were dished."
"Heard the news?" asked Danvers. "No? We had it this morning. The
Huns have rushed a Portuguese position on the Rovuma. The Portuguese
skedaddled, leaving the whole battery of quick-firers intact. I
suppose it'll mean our chasing Fritz southward right through Portuguese
East. With luck we'll corner them on the Zambesi."
"Guess you're wrong, Danvers," interrupted Laxdale. "I know how the
business is going to end; street fighting in Cape Town. Fritz won't
stand, so it's an everlasting chase until he's got the sea at his back."
"Any one seen MacGregor this morning?" enquired Wilmshurst.
"MacGregor? Didn't you find him?" asked Vipont, who had joined the
group of tired-eyed subalterns. "After the column left camp--about an
hour and a half, I should say--he asked Sutton to let him try and
overtake the battalion. Said he didn't want to swing the lead with a
mere scratch on his shin-bone. So he mounted and rode off. That's the
last I saw of him."
"How long before the Huns attacked?" asked Danvers.
"Three hours," replied Vipont. "You don't suggest that a skilled scout
blundered right on top of them?"
"Not at all," his questioner hastened to assert. "For one thing after
he followed us he would be on a diverging route to that taken by Fritz
& Co. What do you say, Wilmshurst?"
Dudley shook his head. He had no particular cause either to like or
dislike the man, but he hesitated to give definite utterance to his
suspicions. It was decidedly un-British to condemn a man before being
sure of actual facts and to sow the seeds of distrust against an
individual who was not present to defend himself. But somehow the
chain of events--the horse's footprints on the kloof road, the warning
shot when the hitherto unsuspecting Huns were approaching the ambush,
the mark V. cartridge case--all pointed to treachery on the part of
some one, while MacGregor's disappearance coincided with the other
points that had occurred to the subaltern.
"He may be bushed," he replied. "It's just likely that he'll turn up
again soon. Has his absence been reported? I'll mention it, if you
like. I have to see the adjutant in a few minutes."
Wilmshurst found the adjutant in his "office," which consisted of three
walls of piled ammunition boxes, with a double covering of canvas. The
furniture was composed of a desk (an upturned packing-case) and a
couple of chairs (smaller dittos) the former being littered with
official forms and papers, for even in the wilds of Africa the British
Army cannot dispense with red-tape formalities.
"Mornin', Mr. Wilmshurst," was the adjutant's greeting as he returned
the subaltern's salute. "Want to see you with reference to that report
of yours, don't you know. Take a pew. You'll find that case pretty
comfortable, and come in out of the sun. Look here: from your report I
understand that a warning shot was fired, but not by any of ours. Is
that so?"
Wilmshurst paused. The adjutant was quick to notice his hesitation.
"Come, come!" he continued sharply. "Do you suspect any one? If so,
out with it. We can't stand on sentiment in matters of this
description, don't you know."
"Are you aware, sir, that MacGregor left camp shortly after we left
camp and has not returned?"
"Hasn't he, by Jove!" exclaimed the adjutant. "Well, what about it?
Has that anything to do with the case in point?"
"I hope not, sir," answered the subaltern, "but--but----"
"Proceed," urged his questioner calmly.
Wilmshurst, seeing no other course, boldly took his plunge, stating his
views upon the connection between the scout's disappearance and the
timely warning received by the retiring enemy, producing as evidence
the rimmed cartridge case, which by reason of its shape and calibre
could not be fired from a Mauser rifle.
"Dash it all!" exclaimed the adjutant explosively. "What sort of
reptile have we been harbouring? I'm afraid that what steps we take
concerning him will be locking the stable door after the horse has
gone."
"We are working simply in conjecture, sir," observed the subaltern.
"He may be all right, after all."
"Conjecture, confound it!" shouted the other. "What d'you call this?"
holding up the cartridge case. "If it isn't circumstantial evidence,
what is?"
At that moment an orderly put in an appearance. "Macgreg him horse am
come back, sah," he reported, saluting.
The adjutant, picking up a sheaf of papers and putting on his
sun-helmet, hurried to the lines where the horses were picketed,
Wilmshurst following and the orderly bringing up the rear.
Already news of MacGregor's disappearance had spread, although there
was no thought of treachery in the minds of the other officers. They
had come to the conclusion that the Rhodesian in an access of zeal had
blundered right into the enemy column.
The appearance of the horse bore out this surmise. The animal was
lathered with foam, its eyes bloodshot and its limbs trembling. Across
the hind quarters was the sear of a bullet that had cut away the hair
and left a slight wound in the hide. One stirrup was missing, cut
through by means of a sharp implement, while the saddle and reins were
dappled with blood-stains.
"Bless my soul, Manners!" exclaimed the colonel turning to the
adjutant. "What does this mean?"
"Dunno, sir, I'm sure," answered the dum-founded officer.
"We can't let the affair drop," decided the C.O. "It's not fair on
MacGregor to sit still. Tell off a section and follow the horse's
tracks. Perhaps the man has been wounded--it looks very much like
it--and may be lying out in the bush."
Promptly Bela Moshi and about a dozen men were dispatched to follow up
the spoor. Good trackers all, they ought to experience but little
difficulty, notwithstanding the fact that hundreds of men had been
trampling the ground, for the Haussas vie with the Australian
aborigines and the Red Indian in the act of tracing a man or an animal
for miles with uncanny skill and persistence.
Hardly had the Haussas departed on their errand when a couple of
British naval officers literally staggered into the bivouac. At first
they were too utterly done up to speak. They were parched with thirst,
their drill uniforms torn in their long trek through the scrub, and
their boots were cut almost to pieces. One of them was limping badly
as the result of a sprained ankle.
Under the care of Doctor Barclay the stragglers soon recovered
sufficiently to give a coherent account of their misadventures. They
were the observer and pilot of one of the seaplanes attached to the
Rovuma column, their base being close to a large sheet of water formed
by the inundation of the river. Out reconnoitring they had discovered
a party of Huns and had bombed them very effectually. That was their
version, although Wilmshurst had good reason to believe that they were
quite under a misapprehension on that score. On the return flight the
engine developed ignition troubles, and there was no help for it but to
plane down. The airmen were lucky in being able to find a fairly open
stretch of ground, but the unexpected happened. The floats of the
seaplane skidded over the hard ground and caught against some
obstruction, with the result that the machine was badly damaged, the
pilot and observer being thrown violently.
Forty miles from their base the airmen realised that it was almost out
of the question to make their way on foot through the scrub, especially
as there were several small rivers to be negotiated. So they decided
to find the bivouac of the Waffs which they had spotted on their
outward flight. According to their estimate the distance was about
eight miles, but in reality it was almost twice that distance.
Owing to the intense heat they were compelled to discard their
overalls. Their foot gear was totally inadequate against the thorns
and stony ground. Without water and with only a bar of chocolate
between them they experienced terrible hardships before they sighted
their temporary refuge.
Their chief anxiety was now the question whether the seaplane could be
recovered. On this score their minds were set at rest, when the
colonel promised to send out a fatigue party to dismantle the machine
and transport it to the banks of the Runkoma, a small stream
sufficiently wide to allow the seaplane to taxi provided the floats
were still intact.
"You might take that job on, Mr. Wilmshurst," remarked his company
commander. "Your platoon will be just about sufficient to provide the
necessary labour, and also a covering party, although I don't
contemplate any trouble from the Huns. We've just heard that Fritz has
had a nasty smack at Motungba, which more than counterbalances his
recent success against the Portuguese on the Rovuma."
The action to which the major referred was a brilliant little affair on
the part of the main column operating in the Rovuma valley. The Huns
were found to be in a strong natural position, the defence of which was
further increased by well-constructed trenches and entanglements.
Notwithstanding the difficulties of a frontal attack, a Punjabi
regiment stormed the defences, the Indians making terrific havoc with
bombs. The Askaris broke and fled, the Germans alone putting up a
fight until they were either killed or captured. The native levies in
their flight were overtaken and cut up by a squadron of colonial horse,
and with slight loss the Imperial forces scored a dashing little
victory, capturing four field guns and one naval gun removed from the
cruiser _Konigsberg_, beside a vast quantity of arms and ammunition.
The result of this engagement was a junction with the gallant Belgian
forces, the Huns being split up into two groups, of which the principal
force was on the Portuguese border, while the other, subdivided into
mobile detachments, was doubling back towards the Rufigi river.
"These fellows will give trouble," declared the major. "They won't
stand. They are in a mortal funk of enveloping movements; but by the
time we've rounded 'em up we'll be jolly sick of the show, you mark my
words."
The return of Bela Moshi and his section diverted Wilmshurst's
attention into another channel. The Haussa sergeant had succeeded in
following the spoor of MacGregor's horse for three and a half miles
along the path taken by the Waffs of their practically barren
operations against the kopje when the Huns had been reported. Here the
trail ended in a medley of hoof-prints, while hard by a rock were
traces of the splaying of half a dozen bullets. In the sun-baked grass
in front of the rock were found ten used cartridge cases and a
stirrup-iron, but a prolonged search faded to reveal any traces of the
missing Rhodesian's departure from the spot where he had apparently
been brought to bay. There were hundreds of footprints all around;
those of Askaris and Germans, for none of the imprints of booted feet
bore any resemblance to those of Robert MacGregor.
At the first opportunity the adjutant called Wilmshurst aside.
"You didn't mention your suspicions to any one else?" he enquired.
"No, sir," replied Dudley.
"It's just as well for the present," continued Captain Manners. "For
MacGregor's sake I hope that you have done him an injustice, but I am
quite convinced that you acted judiciously in communicating your
suspicions to me. However, there's still one point that wants clearing
up. The patrol did not find MacGregor's body. Nor was there any spoor
to show which way he went if he did succeed in breaking through the
enemy. The third surmise is that he might have been taken prisoner.
If so, is it likely that the Huns provided him with a horse? I think
not. Knowing Fritz as we do, the sort of thing that they would do
would be to lash his wrists, and drag him at the end of a line--but
Bela Moshi was emphatic that none of the boot-prints corresponded to
those of the missing man. Until the mystery is cleared up, we are at a
loss to understand whether MacGregor is a true man or a traitor."