"Come now, Reinecke, you have been away two months or so. What is the
truth of things? We are fed here with what I am convinced are false, or
at any rate too rosy, reports. Coming from the centre you ought to be
well informed, and I want to know exactly how matters stand."
Major von Rudenheim bent forward and fixed his hard blue eyes on
Reinecke. They were sitting in the major's quarters. Reinecke had just
returned from a mission which had carried him right across the country,
and after delivering dispatches at headquarters had lost no time in
visiting his friend the major.
"What is the truth?" said Reinecke, flicking the ash from his cigar
irritably. "Who knows? They said that Paris would fall before the
British Army got across the Channel; now it is said that Paris has not
fallen, though the British Army has been annihilated."
"And the Fleet?"
"The British are skulking in their harbours and won't fight. We have
bombarded most of their commercial ports out of existence, but they had
been laying in such enormous stocks of food in anticipation of the war
that it will take a year or so to starve them out. So it's said."
"But surely if the ships won't fight we command the sea and can bring
them to terms. It ought to be over by Christmas."
"Yes, the Kaiser is to eat his Christmas dinner in London. But the fact
is, Major, we're living on rumours. The British smashed up our wireless
installation at Dar-es-Salam, and we haven't had any really authentic
news from Germany since a fortnight after war broke out. As for this
country, we are not doing so well as we ought to have done. We've taken
some places inside their frontier, but they've put up a surprisingly
good defence, and at present it's stalemate. Apparently they are
bringing troops from India----"
"In spite of our Fleet?"
"Yes, in spite of our Fleet. Tirpitz deserves to be cashiered."
"But, my good friend, if they can get reinforcements and we can't, where
are we? And then, I thought the English had to send troops to India to
put down the rebellion there. Isn't that true?"
"I don't know what's true. I'm sick of the whole thing. Here's my
plantation going to rack and ruin: that wretched young cub of an
Englishman having the audacity to run off with my workers; and when I
ought to be bringing him to book I'm packed off to Tabora. Heaven knows
what has happened in my absence."
"I know a little, too. Your young cub is a pretty lively one, and has
pretty good claws. A few days after we were beaten back at Abercorn----"
"That's true, then. I didn't believe it."
"What could be expected when all our best troops are in the north? We
were outnumbered."
If Major von Rudenheim believed what he said, he must have been
singularly ill-informed. On September 5, when the Germans attacked the
little town of Abercorn, its defenders were forty members of the native
police, its commandant the postmaster. There happened to be a
machine-gun at hand, and this was so well manipulated by the postmaster,
Mr. Bisset (who might have been expected to be more at home with the
telegraph instrument) that the tiny garrison was able to hold off the
enemy, four times its strength, until reinforcements of Rhodesian
planters arrived. Mr. Bisset's name deserves to be recorded on the
illustrious roll of civilians turned soldiers who have at critical
moments helped to make and to save the British Empire.
"As I was saying," the major went on, "a few days after our unlucky
reverse at Abercorn, your young cub pounced upon one of our recruiting
patrols and carried every man of them to his lair somewhere in the
forest."
Reinecke swore a good old German oath.
"It's not true," he declared.
"You forget yourself, Captain," said Rudenheim, severely. "I am not a
Berlin newspaper, or even the Wolff bureau."
"I apologise, Major, but really--a German patrol, with German soldiers?"
"A sergeant, two privates, and I don't know how many askaris. They all
vanished."
"Then it can't be known that this English pighead captured them: how
could it?"
"My dear captain, a recruiting patrol recruits. These unfortunate
Germans were returning with their bag--how large I don't know: your cub
released them all. When the patrol was some days overdue, a party was
sent out in search. They found the villages towards Lake Rukwa
absolutely empty of able-bodied men, which seems to show that this
British lion-cub has set up a pretty efficient system of scouting, or
the niggers could hardly have had warning. But by adopting the usual
methods they wrung the story out of one of the old men, burnt down a few
houses, and returned with the news."
"And you hunted the wretch?"
"We had something better to do. The English, reinforced by Belgians,
have kept things rather lively on the frontier, and we have had no men
to spare for cub-hunting."
"But--but--it is preposterous; it is an insult to the German flag; to
allow a nest of mutineers to exist--yes, and to make raids--within a
couple of marches of a German town. The young fool is alone----"
"With all your plantation hands, I understand."
"Raw niggers----"
"But armed with Mausers we can ill spare."
"They don't know butt from muzzle."
"Possibly your cub is not such a cub after all. The English schoolboy
nowadays has a cadet's training, I believe. Perhaps this youngster
might drive a little military gumption even into the nigger's wooden
head."
"Really, Major," cried Reinecke impatiently, "you speak as though--as
though you think the English good for something, whereas we all know
they can't possibly be. They've no efficiency; they're slack; they----"
"Yes, we've been told so," the major interposed drily. "It's just
possible that we're mistaken--believe what we want to believe. And I've
seen this boy, remember."
Reinecke got up and stalked about the room.
"It is absurd; it is scandalous," he cried. "A young whippersnapper
kidnaps our men, defies us, lowers the prestige of the German name,
makes us a laughing-stock----"
"Stay, stay, Captain. You are a little intemperate. A friendly word of
warning: don't talk like that outside this room. It's unwise, unsafe,
if you value your commission. I go so far as to say you are
unreasonable. You allow personal feeling to warp your judgment. Your
dislike of this young Englishman, however natural in the
circumstances--" Reinecke flashed a keen look at the speaker--"must not
blind you to the facts of the situation. As I have explained, we have
been hard pressed on the frontier. The Englishman, it appears, has an
extraordinarily strong position----"
"Where is he?"
"They talk of a nullah----"
"I know it. It was in my company he learnt of it."
"That must be very annoying."
"Not at all, it is good news. Strong? Why, it is a cul-de-sac. At the
north it is blocked by a lake. The cub has trapped himself."
"You are a little impatient, Captain. I was about to tell you that a
half company of askaris went in pursuit of him the same night he left
your plantation--while you were making your way here. You left next
morning, you remember, or you would have known that our men were checked
in the forest----"
"Checked? By a horde of untrained niggers?"
"Commanded by your cub of an Englishman. They were checked; only
temporarily, of course; the lieutenant did not know what force he had
against him, and acted with prudence as a good soldier should. But when
he pushed on to the nullah, he found that fortification had already been
begun. The entrance of the nullah was defended by a formidable
breastwork, and to capture the place would have taken a longer time than
he had to dispose of: he was under orders for Abercorn."
"But surely----"
"Let me finish, Captain. There was a breastwork, as I say; and I am
very much mistaken if between then and now the boy has not added to his
defences. It is a mistake to despise one's enemy, Reinecke, even an
Englishman. Lieutenant Obermann's opinion--and he is a good man, you
know--is that the nullah, properly defended, could not be reduced by
less than a couple of companies of good troops--unless it could be
surprised; and since the fellow draws scouts from all the niggers in the
neighbourhood there's little chance of that. Two companies could not be
detached from our frontier posts without a risk which the colonel was
unwilling to run. He is not blind to all the considerations you put so
forcibly just now; but his decision was, to wait until the general
situation eased, then to take measures to stamp out your Englishman and
his mutineers as one would destroy a nest of vipers."
"Yes, hang the lot."
"The Englishman?"
"Why not? He is a spy. The spy's fate is to be hanged."
"Quite so. And I am sure we can depend on you, Captain, to supply a
good rope--even for your partner."
Reinecke turned angrily towards the major, whose attitude throughout the
interview had been very unsatisfactory, and in whose tone he had caught
a hint of contempt. But the explosion that seemed imminent was
prevented by a knock at the door and the entrance of the major's
servant.
The man saluted formally, and announced that an Arab was enquiring for
Captain Reinecke.
"Send him in," said the major: "unless you would prefer to see him at
your own quarters, Captain."
"No. Why should I meet an Arab secretly?" said Reinecke with
irritation. "Let him come in."
There entered a lean, haggard Arab, in worn and tattered dress, with one
arm in a sling. He bowed to the officers.
"Haroun!" cried Reinecke. "I hardly knew you ... It is one of my
overseers, Major ... Where have you been?"
The man, in his broken German, poured out a long story, which keenly
interested the officers in different ways. He said that, after having
been removed from the plantation, he had been forced to take service
with the Englishman, and been cruelly treated by him. Lifting his
tunic, he turned his back, and displayed a few weals. He escaped, and
was fired at and wounded in the arm. After several terrible days in the
forest, he had managed to crawl into Bismarckburg, and what with hunger
and pain was now at the point of death.
"Flogging a German subject!" cried Reinecke. "Another nail in the
Englishman's coffin."
"A knot in the noose, let us say. Your Arab had better have something
to eat: he may then tell us a good deal that we want to know. His arm
can be attended to afterwards. He is not so near death as he thinks."
The man was given into the charge of the major's servant, to be fed.
"Your Englishman, I suppose, dealt with the Arab as he had seen him deal
with your niggers," remarked the major.
"He saw nothing of the kind," replied Reinecke with an air of malicious
triumph. "While he was at the plantation I forbade the use of the whip.
You see, Major?--the English boasted humanity is sheer cant and
hypocrisy: what we do openly they do on the sly."
"Hardly that, Reinecke. You forget there are German prisoners in the
nullah. They probably saw the flogging."
"And shared it, I daresay. The English are capable of any atrocity.
But we shall find the man useful, Major. Nothing could be better. And
the nullah is so near that though the rains have started we might crush
the vipers soon: there'll be a pause in the operations on the frontier."
The Arab returned, refreshed and clean. Reinecke questioned him eagerly,
and drew from him many details of what had happened since the flight
from the plantation. The German prisoners, he said, had been placed on
the island, where a hut had been built for them. Food was conveyed to
them on a raft. As the man described the defensive works at the nullah,
Reinecke drew a rough diagram in his pocketbook, and marked the
positions of the trenches and the camp.
"The youngster has a good headpiece," said the major, looking with
interest at the diagram. "His name? Willoughby? I'm afraid we can't
claim German ancestry for him."
"A machine-gun will smash him," said Reinecke.
"A machine-gun would not be very effective against defences like these,
and it would be a terrible business to get up anything heavier across
such country, at any rate while the rains are on. He seems to have made
good use of his time during the last two months in training his niggers,
and unfortunately has won over our trained askaris. A frontal attack
would be very costly, my friend."
"I can show another way into the nullah, Herr Major," said the Arab.
"Why didn't you say so before?" cried Reinecke. "Where is it?"
"The Herr Hauptmann will take me back into his service?"
"Dog, would you bargain with me? By your own confession you deserted to
the enemy."
"I was compelled."
"You deserted all the same. Deserters are shot. Your only chance of
escaping the penalty is to assist us--to show us the way into the
nullah. You'll do that, and if you fail you'll be shot."
The Arab protested that he was sure of his ground, and would faithfully
lead the troops to an entrance into the nullah which was at present
wholly unsuspected by the Englishman. He described its position, and
Reinecke's eyes sparkled with anticipation as he turned to Rudenheim and
said--
"We have him, Major! We'll capture the place at little cost, and
then---- Haroun, go and show the doctor your arm, and come to my
quarters to-morrow."
"A moment," said the major. "You were flogged: what for?"
The Arab appeared to be for a moment disconcerted by the German's swift
question. Then he answered:
"Because I would not work as hard as the Englishman wished, Herr Major."
"So! You may go ... The man is a liar, Reinecke. You will find that
there's nothing much wrong with his arm, if anything at all. All the
same, that northern entrance is genuine enough, I think; and we must
certainly catch your cub. But I don't think we'll hang him; he's the
kind of man I like to make a prisoner of war."