HELD UP
AT length the Monday fixed for the departure of the s.s. _Tomboli_
for Dar-es-Salaam arrived.
Colin and Tiny were glad to shake off the dust of Cape Town. For one
thing, they were all impatience to arrive at their Land of Promise.
For another, it seemed simply astonishing how their money went, even
with the strictest economy, during their ten days' enforced
detention.
Already Tiny was showing decided signs of improvement in health. The
sea voyage had done him a lot of good, and the air of South Africa,
even though it were on the coast, helped to keep up the improvement.
The fact that he had been able to ascend Table Mountain showed that.
It fagged him, but even Colin felt the physical strain after about
three weeks on board the _Huldebras_.
The _Tomboli_ was a poor ship compared with the well-equipped
_Huldebras_. For one thing, her speed was a bare eleven knots; her
accommodation was meagre and far from comfortable. She rolled like a
barrel, and in a following sea "steered like a dray"; and since, in
addition to her slow speed, she was to call to land and unload cargo
at Port Elizabeth, Durban, Lorenzo Marquez, and Mozambique, the time
of her arrival at Dar-es-Salaam was a matter of question.
She carried twenty-three passengers, including four Portuguese
officials, but amongst them was one whom Colin and Tiny were sorry
to see--the shifty-eyed man from the hotel off Adderley Street.
In the passenger list his name was given as Joseph Londray, his
destination Ujiji, which meant that in the circumstances Colin and
Tiny would have to be in his company until they reached Tabora.
Londray showed no sign of surprise at meeting the lads on the deck
of the _Tomboli_, and during the long and tedious voyage he made no
attempt to address them. It was a case of mutual disinclination on
both sides, and although they met regularly in the saloon for meals,
not a word passed between the two chums and the shifty-eyed
passenger.
At length, after landing and picking up passengers at various ports
of call until only seven of those who left Cape Town remained on
board, the _Tomboli_ arrived at the spacious and land-locked harbour
of Dar-es-Salaam--the name meaning the "Port of Tranquillity."
"This is another good step towards our journey's end," remarked
Tiny, as the chums gazed upon the well-laid-out town that, thanks to
German thoroughness, had taken the place of a squalid native hamlet.
But for the Kaiser's lust for world conquest by the force of arms,
Dar-es-Salaam might have been under the Black Cross Ensign to-day,
and bringing millions into the exchequer of the German Government.
Instead, like the rest of "German East," it had passed under the
control of Great Britain, and the blighting shadow of the Mailed
Fist was for ever removed from the native population.
"I'm jolly glad we haven't to live here," rejoined Colin. "It's too
hot and moist. Look at that chap. One could imagine him to be a
slave-driver."
He pointed to a tall Arab in charge of a gang of native porters.
There were very few Europeans about. Some had come down to watch the
arrival of the s.s. _Tomboli_, and without exception they rode
either in American "runabouts" or in man-propelled conveyances.
Two hours later Colin and Tiny boarded the train, which consisted of
a number of narrow-gauged corridor cars drawn by an unfamiliar type
of engine provided with a formidable "cow-catcher." At the far end
of the same compartment Joe Londray had installed himself, and was
already engaged in a game of cards with a very stout man, who was
evidently of Portuguese extraction.
The other passengers were mostly Germans, who, having expressed
their willingness to conform to the laws of their conquerors, were
permitted to retain their homesteads. There were, however, a couple
of Englishmen, who, invalided during the War, had taken to farming
in Africa for the sake of their health, and were returning
up-country with stores purchased at the port of Dar-es-Salaam.
For several miles the country was flat and swampy, then the miasmic
marshes gave place to a densely-wooded country, through which the
train climbed laboriously. Stations were few and far between, but at
frequent intervals the lads caught sight of native villages wedged
in between the thick masses of foliage.
Once, as the train crossed a sluggish stream, Colin called his
chum's attention to what looked like a number of floating logs
suddenly endowed with life. The logs were crocodiles that, alarmed
by the roar of the train, were seeking shelter in the mud that
formed the bed of the stream.
Just before sunset a sudden application of the brakes brought all
the passengers to the platforms between the carriages. It was a
sight worth seeing.
About a hundred yards in front of the engine and moving in a zig-zag
fashion across the permanent way, was a huge dark brown animal that
Colin rightly guessed to be a rhinoceros. Even when equipped with a
cow-catcher, an engine has to exercise discretion when confronted
by one of these formidable animal battering rams. No doubt the rhino
was terrified, but at the same time the brute hadn't the sense to
take cover, but continued to career madly along the line.
Someone on the platform of one of the foremost carriages fired at
the animal, but the bullet, although it struck with a resounding
thud, failed to pierce the armour-plated hide.
Other shots followed in quick succession, without any apparent
effect beyond goading the rhino to fury, for suddenly it turned and
charged the now stationary engine.
The impact was distinctly felt, but the animal came off second best.
It rolled a full twenty feet before it brought up against a large
palm tree.
There it lay savagely regarding its huge enemy as if contemplating
another charge at a less substantial portion of the train, but
before the rhino could put its plan into execution the driver
started the engine. The hiss of the escaping steam, accompanied by
the shrill blast of the whistle, was too much for the rhino's
determination, and, regaining its feet, the animal charged madly
into the forest. As night fell a powerful light was shown from the
front of the engine, its rays illuminating the track for several
yards ahead.
Although it was yet only seven o'clock the passengers began to make
preparations for turning in. "Early to bed and early to rise" seemed
to be the order of things in Equatorial Africa, so as to take
advantage of the relatively cool period just after sunrise and to
rest while the rays of the sun are strongest.
But neither Colin nor his companion felt any inclination to sleep.
The novelty of rushing through a tropical forest in the darkness was
too great. After days afloat, when the rhythmic vibrations of the
propellers seemed to lull them into slumber, the rumble of the train
as it swayed over the metal rails had the opposite effect.
The moist and clammy heat, coupled with the fact that the lights in
the carriages were kept on, also tended to wakefulness.
At length--it was close on midnight--Colin was on the point of
dropping into a fitful slumber when the sudden application of the
brakes aroused him.
"Another rhino?" he asked himself, "or an elephant, perhaps."
The train halted with disconcerting suddenness. Some luggage pitched
noisily on the floor. A passenger thrown from his bunk was
expostulating in German with no one in particular and the world in
general.
Then from the rear of the train came voices raised high in angry
expostulation. Heavy boots grated along the corridor. The sliding
door of the compartment was thrown back, and a tall, bearded man,
his face partly hidden by a mask, burst abruptly upon the startled
passengers. One man began shouting in a high-pitched frightened
voice.
"Chuck it!" exclaimed the masked man. "Hands up!"