At the bungalow the native servants received Tom with smiles of welcome.
It seemed that Reinecke had given out that his guest had gone away only
for a time; that the war, a distant and unreal thing to them, could have
turned apparent friends into enemies was as yet beyond their
comprehension. Quickly and cheerfully they prepared a meal; and while
Tom enjoyed food that, after the experiences of the past weeks, was
incredible luxury, he bent all his wits to the solution of the amazing
problem with which he was now faced.
Here he was, within a few minutes transformed from a fugitive and a
wanderer into the absolute master of several hundreds of negroes. His
lightest word would be law to them. The simple people were incapable of
perceiving how precarious was his authority; to them he was just the
m'sungu whom they admired and who had at a stroke altered the conditions
of their existence.
The sergeant and three of the Arabs were for the present safely locked
up. The remaining overseers, somewhere in hiding, could not leave the
plantation, the gate being locked, to give warning to Reinecke on his
homeward way of what had occurred. The askaris, always submissive to
authority, probably took the newcomer for a German officer, and supposed
the sergeant to have been guilty of some fault. And as for the negroes,
there were something over a hundred able-bodied men who before long
would have been askaris in the German service--unwilling recruits, but,
in spite of their difficulties with drill, the raw material of excellent
soldiers. That, at any rate, must be prevented.
How? Only by the immediate migration of the whole community. "A large
order," thought Tom, knitting his brows. Yet not so difficult as it
first appeared. These negroes had no possessions that they valued
except their cooking-pots. Their natural life was the free open
existence of the forest and the plain; they could build themselves huts
in a day, and needed no furniture. The implements of their plantation
work would be useful to them until they had made for themselves bows and
arrows. A race of hunters, they would not want for food; besides, there
were the plantation stores which could be conveyed away.
But in what direction could they go? Bismarckburg was only twenty miles
distant; some ten miles nearer was the road to Neu Langenburg, no doubt
studded with German military posts, and patrolled. As soon as the
mutiny became known, a force would be dispatched from Bismarckburg, or a
telegram sent along the road warning any troops that might be moving up
for the projected attack on Abercorn. Thus a migration into British
territory would be impossible. The Wahehe country was far to the north,
within the German boundaries; there could be no safety for them there.
For the moment the problem seemed to be, to find a temporary refuge in
some spot difficult of access, where the people might dwell in
comparative security until the course of events became clear.
What better place could there be than the nullah he had lately left? It
was within easy marching distance, yet far enough away, for while only
about fifteen miles from the plantation, it was nearly twice that
distance from Bismarckburg, and in the heart of the forest. Between its
steep banks a much larger body than these few hundred people might take
shelter. It was near water; the forest provided food to supplement what
might be removed from Reinecke's storehouses. Within this natural
fortress, strengthened by such art as the negroes under guidance were
capable of, they might bid defiance to any but a well-equipped force,
which circumstances might not allow the Germans to organise, and which
in any case it would take time to set on foot. In the interval he might
attempt to get into communication with the British beyond the border.
After half an hour's cogitation Tom had made up his mind. To ward off
suspicion among the servants, he ordered them to hasten preparations for
the meal which Reinecke would expect on his arrival, then hurried back
to the negroes' quarters, his brain busy with his plans.
It was fortunate that he had in Mwesa a quick and efficient interpreter,
and in Mirambo a devoted henchman whose former rank in his own country
lent him authority with the rest of the natives. Through these two,
uncle and nephew, he made arrangements for the exodus with a celerity
that surprised himself. And if his brother Bob had been able to
transport himself on a magic carpet to this spot in Central Africa, that
hard-headed man of business would no doubt have been amazed at the
qualities shown in this emergency by one whom, in his elder-brotherly
attitude, he was accustomed to call "the kid." The truth is, of course,
that some people are happily born with the gift of organisation, though
it may lie dormant, unsuspected, until occasion rouses it.
Tom's first measure was to arrange for the immediate evacuation of the
women and children. Led by Mushota, and escorted by a band of the elder
men, they were to leave the plantation and push on as far as possible on
the way to the nullah while daylight lasted. At nightfall they would
camp, and their escort would be at no loss to protect them until the
dawn. Nor would they go empty-handed. Each woman, each child, would
carry such household gear as would be useful, together with provisions
for a meal or two.
While the women were merrily making their preparations, Tom got the men
together, and set them to empty the store-sheds; to bring all the
foodstuffs into the open, and divide them up into loads, under the
direction of the men who were accustomed to serve as porters to and fro
between Bismarckburg and the plantation. In one of the sheds, whose
padlocked door he forced open, he was delighted to find the Mauser
rifles which had recently been imported for the arming of the new
recruits, together with a stock of small-arm ammunition. He set Mwesa
to discover which of the men had had musketry instruction by the German
sergeant, and arranged that these should have the rifles and a few
rounds of cartridges when the packing was finished; and he warned them
that if they fired without orders the rifles would be taken away and
they would have to carry extra loads--a threat that was likely, he
thought, to prove effectual. There were enough rifles to arm also a few
of the older men, like Mirambo himself, who had had previous experience
of firearms; and though their experience dated back a good many years,
and the Mauser was a very different weapon from the old trade musket
which they had formerly handled, he had no doubt that with a little
practice they would soon outdo many of the recruits, whose instruction
could not yet have been carried very far.
The half-dozen askaris looked surprised when they were ordered to lay
down their arms and assist in the baling of the food; but Tom's air of
assured authority imposed upon them, and they appeared to have no
suspicion that he was a usurper until the women and children were ready
to march out. It was not till then that Tom, feeling in his pocket for
the duplicate key of the gate which Reinecke had given him, discovered
that he had lost it, probably in his fall into the pit. The only other
keys were in the possession of Reinecke and the principal overseer, and
the latter, arrested in his attempt to escape, was locked in the
prison-shed. Tom went to the shed to get this man's key, opened the
door, and was amazed to find the place empty. All three Arabs and the
German sergeant were gone. They had wrenched away some of the poles
that formed the rear wall of the shed, and escaped unnoticed in the
bustle attending the preparations for departure.
This discovery gave Tom an unpleasant, even an alarming shock. The loss
of the key was a small matter; the gate could be forced; but if the men
were already well on the way to give the alarm to Reinecke, as was only
too likely, the whole scheme of escape was in danger of being utterly
ruined. Without an instant's delay Tom hurried back, selected a dozen
men whose build promised fleetness of foot, armed them with hoes and
mattocks, and ran with them down to the gate, intending to burst the
lock with a rifle-shot. He found, however, that the Arab, in his haste
to escape, had left the key in the lock. The gate was open. Tom
dispatched the natives along the road to capture the runaways. At this
hour Reinecke was probably within eight or nine miles of the plantation,
a distance which his bearers would take at least four hours to cover;
but if the fugitives reached him, he would no doubt spring from his
machila and hurry forward on foot, accompanied by his armed askaris. It
seemed, then, that the evacuation of the place must be completed within
three hours at the most.
Luckily the women were ready, and Tom ordered them at once to set off.
It was then that the askaris became suspicious, and began to put their
heads together; but Tom stamped out any spark of mutiny that might have
been kindled by separating the men, and assigning to them places among
the natives who were now preparing to mount their loads. Disarmed, with
armed men around them, the askaris dared not disobey; and within a few
minutes after the departure of the women they were marching out among
the first contingent of the Wahehe, each bearing a weighty bundle upon
his head. Mirambo had selected the steadiest of his fellows to form
this first band, who were to follow the women, lay down their loads at
the proposed camping place, and then return at once for more. Meanwhile
the other three overseers had been rounded up, bound, and placed under
guard: there must be no more fugitives.
While Mirambo was superintending the packing of the remainder of the
stores, Tom was wrestling with another problem. Reinecke would arrive
about sunset. He would find the gate locked as usual, and the silence
of the plantation would not awaken suspicion, for work hours were over,
and he would suppose the workers to have returned to their distant
quarters, out of earshot from the central road and from the bungalow.
But as soon as he reached the bungalow the fat would be in the fire. He
would expect the principal overseer and the German sergeant to be
awaiting him, to give in their reports. Not finding them, he would send
one of the servants to fetch them. In ten minutes, or little more, all
would be known. What would he do? Perhaps lead his askaris in pursuit,
perhaps dispatch a runner to the nearest post on the Neu Langenburg road
to bring up reinforcements. In either case the flight of the people
would be harassed; they might be caught before they had reached their
defensive position. Tom saw that to gain time was of prime importance.
How could he gain time? It would be possible to ambush Reinecke and his
party in the woods close to the plantation. Even if they had been
warned by the fugitive overseers and the sergeant, they would probably
not suspect that the Englishman would attempt, with untrained natives,
to trap seasoned soldiers. But an ambush would involve the necessity of
firing without warning, and Tom was too raw at the game of war to adopt
so cold-blooded a course.
Another idea suggested itself which, hazardous as it seemed, had a
certain attractiveness that commended it to Tom's sense of sport He
called up Mwesa.
"What does Reinecke do when he comes back from Bismarckburg with
askaris?" he asked.
"Him eat all too much," replied the boy.
"Yes, but I mean what does he do before that? Where does he dismiss the
askaris?"
"Dey all go to house, sah; stand outside; den he make um say one, two,
three; den dey go home."
Tom gathered that Reinecke was accustomed to hold a sort of inspection
parade before dismissing the men to their shed several hundred yards
away. From his own experience he knew the method of procedure with the
porters. These brought their loads to the bungalow; the goods were
checked off by Yakoub, the native clerk, then carried to the
store-sheds.
"Very good, Mwesa.... Here come my scouts--without prisoners. See what
they say."
The twelve men he had sent in pursuit of the runaways reported that they
had run almost to Bismarckburg--a typical native exaggeration at which
Tom smiled. They had seen Reinecke and his party coming slowly up the
road: neither the overseers nor the sergeant were with them. Since the
African has no measure either of time or distance Tom could not discover
exactly how far away Reinecke was when the men saw him; but on his
asking when the party would arrive, the spokesman pointed to the sun and
then stooped and moved his hand along just above the ground.
"At sunset, as I thought," said Tom to himself. "Then we have about two
hours."
An hour later the second contingent of the people left, well loaded up.
Tom locked the gate behind them, then set forty men whom he had retained
to remove all litter and other traces of the exodus from that portion of
the road which must be traversed in approaching the bungalow. This done,
he gave rifles and a round or two of ammunition to twenty of the men,
and ordered the other twenty to arm themselves with implements of their
daily work. It still wanted half an hour of sunset. Tom allowed the
men twenty minutes to make a good meal; then he divided each band,
posting ten riflemen and ten of the others in the bushes near the gate,
and the rest under cover in the grounds of the bungalow, where they
commanded the open space in front of the entrance. This last
disposition was made very stealthily, in order to avoid attracting the
attention of the household servants, who, however, were busy in their
outbuildings at the back, making final preparations for their master's
dinner.
Having given his men their orders, Tom entered the bungalow, clapped his
hands for one of the servants, asked him if dinner was ready, and
reminded him that Herr Reinecke always liked a drink as soon as he
returned home.
"Take it to the dining-room," he said, "and one for me too."
He then went into the room Reinecke used as an office, opened a drawer
in which there was usually kept a revolver, assured himself that it was
loaded, and taking it to the dining-room, slipped it half underneath the
edge of a wide fruit dish. The servant brought in two large tumblers of
a claret-cup of Reinecke's invention. Tom drank his off, then sat down
and helped himself to a confection of rice and fruit. But now that the
critical moment was approaching he found himself without appetite. To
steady his nerves he lit a cigarette, and changed his position slightly,
so that he had a good view through the window of the approach to the
bungalow.
Tom was smoking his fourth cigarette, and the brief twilight of
Equatorial Africa was already half spent, when he heard the tramp of
marching men, and saw the expected party filing into the grounds of the
bungalow. First came two askaris, then Reinecke and a native N.C.O.,
then a number of porters with bales on their heads, finally a dozen
askaris. Reinecke was in uniform--white helmet and tunic, khaki
breeches, and leggings.
The number of askaris was greater than Tom had looked for. He noticed
that the hand that held his cigarette was trembling a little, drew a
long breath, and waited. The atmosphere seemed to be highly electric.
Reinecke ordered the askaris to halt and ground arms, the porters to lay
down their loads. Then he called for Selim and Sergeant Morgenstein,
who ought to have been awaiting him, and cursed them volubly in German.
He shouted a few words in Bantu to the native corporal, and strode into
the bungalow. He was evidently in a bad temper.
Turning into the dining-room he gasped and started back. Tom dropped
his cigarette into the ash-tray, laid his hand near the butt of the
revolver on the table, and, smiling grimly, said--
"No. I'm not a ghost, Herr Reinecke--nor a skeleton."
Reinecke, standing in the doorway, had quickly recovered himself.
"So!" he laughed. "But it is clear: you are a fool."
"I _was_ a fool--to trust you," said Tom, standing up.
"You _are_ a fool--to come back here," said Reinecke, with another
laugh. He advanced a step into the room and laid his helmet on a chair.
"That's as may be. You will consider yourself my prisoner, Herr
Reinecke."
The German stared, then with a derisive guffaw, cried--
"Your prisoner? Are you a madman as well as a fool? Ha! ha!--your
prisoner! We are at war: yes, you realise it. But _your_ prisoner!
Why, you foolish child, don't you realise that you are _my_
prisoner?--that I can have you shot as a spy?--that that is exactly what
I shall do?"
"We seem to be talking at cross purposes." Tom grasped his revolver,
and with a quick movement pointed it at the German's head. "Not a word,"
he added swiftly, as Reinecke, after a moment's paralysing astonishment,
was turning towards the door, and at the same time fumbling for the
revolver slung across his shoulder. "Understand: if you call out, or
make a single suspicious movement--drop your hands, sir--I shall fire,
and if I fire it will be a signal to my men who are waiting to settle
accounts with your askaris. Take off your pistol strap: lay it on the
table: your left hand, please: be careful not to touch the button."
Reinecke, taken all aback--what did the Englishman mean by "my
men"?--removed his strap and laid it on the corner of the table Tom
pointed to.
"Now your sword-belt."
The German obeyed.
A servant came through the inner door carrying dishes.
"Not yet," said Tom: "we are not quite ready."
The servant smiled, started as he saw the revolver in Tom's hand, then
backed hurriedly.
"Remain in the kitchen till I call," added Tom. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you
will precede me--I am not bluffing--to the place where my men are
hidden. I don't wish to kill your askaris, but any madness on your part
will provoke a volley from my men. It will avoid trouble, then, if you
order yours to pile arms. Remember this revolver. If you make a
mistake in the word of command it will be fatal to you as to them. Lead
on."
The German turned without a word. Outside, the askaris were standing at
ease: Yakoub, the native clerk, had just finished checking off the
porter's loads. Reinecke ordered the askaris, in a voice unlike his
own, to pile arms and reassemble two deep. At Tom's bidding he told
Yakoub to go to his hut and remain there. A call from Tom brought Mwesa
bounding from behind a shrub.
"Get the men to collect these arms," said Tom.
The negroes came from their hiding place and seized upon the askaris'
rifles. The amazed porters, standing by their loads, broke out into
eager questioning, and the replies set them shouting, laughing, leaping
with glee. The askaris, equally astonished, looked in a puzzled way
from Reinecke to Tom, and made no resistance when the Wahehe were
ordered to tie their hands behind their backs. Reinecke, standing
within a yard of Tom, gnawed his moustache in impotent rage.
"Keep these men under guard," said Tom, and Mwesa summoned forth the
concealed riflemen. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you shall have your dinner.
Make the most of it. It will be a long time before you get such a meal
again."