RESCUED
It was well into the dry season. As far as the eye could reach lay an
expanse of sun-baked ground dotted with scrub and parched grass,
terminating in the rugged outlines of the Karewenda Geberge. In the
clear African atmosphere the hills, although a good forty miles
distant, looked no more than ten or twelve miles away. With a powerful
telescope an outpost on the high ground ought to be able to spot the
khaki-clad horsemen as they spurred across the bush.
The patrol had no immediate intention of following the fugitive's
spoor. Their idea was to cut off his retreat by keeping on a parallel
route until they had out-distanced him, and then, by extending to the
right, to achieve their object. It was a game of hide-and-seek on a
large scale--a contest of wits. Around the spot where the Hun was
supposed to be an extended cordon was being formed. It was up to him
to break through--if he could, but once detected he stood little chance
against a well-mounted patrol composed of some of the crack shots of
Rhodesia.
"We've cut across his spoor," announced one of the men. "Jones has
just semaphored through. We've nabbed him this time."
The order was passed from man to man for the investing horsemen to
contract the enfolding circle. Each man, his rifle ready for instant
use, trotted towards an imaginary centre, the while keeping his eyes on
the alert for signs of the fugitive.
Then, without warning, a column of smoke, beaten down by the strong
northerly wind, rose from the scrub at a point a good two miles off.
In a very short space of time the cloud increased in density of volume,
moving with the rapidity of a trotting horse.
At the signal the patrol closed. The situation was serious, for not
only were the chances of a successful pursuit knocked on the head, but
there was the danger of the men being overtaken by the flames.
"Start another fire down wind," suggested one of the Rhodesians.
"The horses won't stand it," objected another. "They're getting jumpy
already."
The man spoke truly. The animals, scenting danger, were becoming
restless. The order was therefore given to mount, and the patrol
galloped back in the direction of the Kiwa River, never drawing rein
until they reached a ford two miles below the spot where they had
crossed earlier in the day.
So swift was the advance of the bush-fire that the scrub on the
furthermost bank was ablaze within twenty minutes of the time when the
patrol recrossed the river, while right and left for miles the ground
was covered with fiercely roaring flames. Clouds of black and brownish
smoke swept across the stream, red hot embers mingling with the eddying
vapour.
The patrol held their ground, keeping their horses under control by
adopting the expedient of covering the horses' heads with blankets.
With the possibility of the bush on their side of the river taking fire
this was the safest course to pursue short of a forty mile ride across
difficult country with the devouring element hard at their heels.
Mingled with the roar of the flames came the frequent crashes of
falling trees, and the hiss of blazing embers as they fell into the
water. The heat was terrific, while at times the smoke was so dense
and suffocating that the men had the greatest difficulty to breathe.
Elephants, bush-cows, rhinoceri and swarms of smaller animals,
stampeded by the flames, plunged panic-stricken into the river, taking
no notice of the men as they dashed past them.
For two hours the ordeal lasted, then, having consumed everything of a
combustible nature the fire burnt itself out. Almost miraculously the
flames had failed to gain a hold upon the scrub on the nearmost bank.
The river had formed the furthermost limit, but across the stream as
far as the eye could reach there was nothing to be seen but an expanse
of blackened thorn-bushes, from which a faint bluish vapour rose in the
now still and sultry air.
"Nothing more doing to-day, boys," declared the leader of the patrol.
"We'll bivouac close to the village and try our luck to-morrow. Ground
will be cool enough by then, I reckon."
"Von Gobendorff won't stand much chance in that," remarked another,
indicating the devastated ground. "We may find his remains. That'll
be some satisfaction."
"Unless he started the fire," added Wilmshurst.
"But we were surrounding his hiding-place," declared the first speaker.
"We believe we were," continued the subaltern. "It's just likely that
we missed his spoor, and that he was to windward of us. The fire may
have started spontaneously, but it's my belief that von Gobendorff
fired the grass."
At daybreak on the following morning the patrol recrossed the river.
With a heavy dew still upon the ground the devastated track gave the
horses no inconvenience, although the air was heavy with the pungent
smell of charred wood. In extended order they followed the track which
the fugitive had been reported to have taken until they arrived at the
further-most limit of the fire.
Each man as he closed in the centre made the same report--nothing had
been seen of the body of the much-sought-after Hun.
"We've drawn a blank, it seems," remarked Wilmshurst. "There's nothing
for it but to carry on until either we overtake him or come in touch
with the enemy patrols. We've a clear twenty-four hours before we
rejoin our regiment."
Mile after mile the patrol rode, but not the faintest trace of von
Gobendorff's line of flight was to be seen. Whether he was alive or
dead was a mystery yet unsolved.
Towards midday they arrived at a kraal situated in a vast semi-circular
expanse of open ground bounded on three sides by scarps of the
Karewenda Hills. The greatest caution was now necessary, the task of
the patrol, failing von Gobendorff's capture, being to find out whether
the lower slopes of the hill were held in force or only lightly so. If
possible there was to be an avoidance of an exchange of shots with
hostile outposts, but in any case the Rhodesians were to withdraw at
the first sign of opposition.
The headman of the kraal, like most of his kind, was very
communicative. Already the natives were appreciating the change of
masters, for under German rule their lot was a hard one, forced labour
and scanty or often no remuneration being the order of things.
He had seen no one answering to von Gobendorff's description, but he
gave other information. The Germans were withdrawing their forces to a
position on the northern slopes of the hills, and had already destroyed
two guns which they were unable to remove from an abandoned redoubt
about five miles to the east of the kraal. He also said that a German
patrol escorting a white prisoner had passed along a native path at
less than a mile of the village only an hour or so previously.
Questioned further the headman replied that the prisoner was not a
"warrior"--meaning that he was not dressed in military uniform--and
that for several months past he had been kept in captivity in the now
abandoned fort. Several of the villagers had seen him when they went
to dig earthworks for the Huns. In their hurried retirement the
Germans had overlooked the fact that they had a prisoner, and the
patrol had been sent back to bring him in.
"How many men?" asked Wilmshurst, one of the Rhodesians translating the
question and its reply.
"Four white soldiers and ten Askaris, O chief," replied the headman.
"Good enough," exclaimed Wilmshurst. "We ought to be able to settle
that crowd and release the prisoner."
The headman willingly allowed two natives to point out to the patrol
the path which the Huns had taken. A reference to the map showed that,
allowing the hostile patrol two hours' start, an ambush could be
arranged at a spot four miles distant where the path crossed a spruit.
It was unpleasantly close to one of the still occupied enemy outposts,
but with quickness and decision the coup ought to be accomplished
without much difficulty.
The native guides, although on foot, had no trouble to keep up with the
mounted men, and when the latter arrived at the place chosen for the
surprise they found that the Germans were not yet in sight.
Dismounted and accompanied by Bela Moshi Wilmshurst made his way along
the side of the track until he came in touch with the hostile party.
The Huns, suspecting nothing, were resting. Two Askaris had been
posted as sentries, but they, too, were lax, little thinking that there
was any danger of a surprise. The prisoner was seated at the base of a
large tree, another Askari mounting guard over him. His back was
turned in Wilmshurst's direction, but the subaltern was able to discern
that the unfortunate man was practically bald-headed and wore a thick,
straggling beard.
Up to that moment Dudley had been buoyed up by the hope that the
prisoner might be his brother Rupert, but at the sight of the bent and
aged figure his anticipations were shattered.
"We'll have him out of their clutches, at all events," he soliloquised
as he cautiously signed to Bela Moshi to withdraw.
Regaining the patrol Wilmshurst explained how matters stood, and a
decision was quickly formed to attack immediately, taking advantage of
the lax state of the hostile party, without waiting for them to
approach the previously selected spot for the ambush.
Dismounting and leaving their trained horses under the charge of a
piquet the men cautiously made their way through the scrub until they
were within eighty yards of the still unsuspecting Huns.
Extending the Rhodesians took up their desired position on a
semi-circular formation, enabling each one to fire should necessity
arise without the risk of hitting one of his own party, at the same
time making it almost a matter of impossibility for the ambushed Huns
to break away without being shot down.
A whistle sounded. Up sprang the curved line of khaki-clad troopers,
each man covering one of the enemy with his rifle, while a stern order
to surrender immediately was given to the completely astonished Germans.
The Askaris obeyed the command without demur, but the Germans were made
of stiffer material. Throwing themselves at full length they grasped
their rifles.
It was a signal for the Rhodesians to open fire--and the Huns paid the
penalty. In less than a minute the action was over. The Askaris were
unarmed and ordered to take themselves off, their rifles having been
broken and the bolts removed.
Wilmshurst hastened to the prisoner, who at the opening fire had rolled
on the ground by the side of a fallen tree. The subaltern found him
lying face downwards, unable to rise, his wrists and ankles being
secured by thongs of raw hide.
With a couple of strokes of his knife Dudley severed the bonds and
assisted the released captive to his feet, for the man was so exhausted
that he was incapable of standing unsupported.
"You're all right now," said the subaltern reassuringly. "Can you sit
in a saddle for----"
"Good heavens!--Dudley!" exclaimed the gaunt and haggard prisoner.
It was Wilmshurst's turn to be dumfounded. He stepped back a pace and
looked the rescued man intently in the face. Was it possible that this
human wreck was his once well-set-up and powerfully-built brother?
"Rupert!" he exclaimed dubiously.
"That's me," rejoined the other. "Rather, what's left of me."
"Found an old pal?" enquired the patrol-commander, as the Rhodesians
crowded round the object of their recent operations.
"My brother," replied Dudley.
"Good business," was the hearty rejoinder. "But we must be moving.
We've alarmed every enemy post within five miles of us."
The patrol hurried back to the spot where they had left their horses,
Bela Moshi settling the question of how the physically weakened Rupert
Wilmshurst was to be moved by lifting him in his strong arms.
"Nothing ob him, sah," confided the Haussa. "Him weight of one-time
porter load."
It was an exaggeration of speech on the Haussa's part, for the nominal
burden of a Coast porter is roughly sixty pounds, but Rupert's weight
had decreased from a normal "twelve seven" to a little over seven
stones.
With the utmost dispatch the patrol remounted. Bela Moshi gave up his
steed to "Massa Wimst's brudder" and rode one of the led horses. In
single file the men retraced their course, maintaining a steady trot.
As they entered the kraal where the headman had given them such
important information they found the natives in a state of agitated
turmoil. The Huns had by some means discovered that these "black
subjects of his Imperial Majesty the German Emperor" had entertained a
hostile patrol, for within twenty minutes of the departure of
Wilmshurst and his companions a party of Askaris, commanded by a German
officer, had visited the village. By way of punishment half a dozen
huts had been burnt and an indemnity of fifty goats and a hundred
litres of corn demanded, the headman and five other principal
inhabitants being seized as hostages.
So great was the faith of the blacks in the "white soldiers of King
George" that they rose _en masse_, liberated the hostages and drove the
Askaris from their village. But the trouble was far from over, for
native scouts reported a concentration of German troops on the
south-eastern side of the village, while other Askari battalions were
debouching from the north-east, having been hurriedly sent from one of
the fortified posts on the Karewenda Hills.
"And so our line of retreat is cut," remarked Dudley. "Very well;
we'll have to fight to a finish."