When Mirambo came up, hard on the heels of Mwesa, he too fell on his
face and greeted Tom with an air of mingled humility and gratitude. In
the absence of the m'sungu his position had been a difficult one. The
men of the hunting party had come dropping in singly and in small
groups, and the story they told, magnifying the numbers of the enemy,
had struck consternation and fear into the hearts of the people. If the
m'sungu was gone, what would become of them? Who would tell them what
to do? How could they deal with white men's war-power without a white
man to help them? Some of the weaker-kneed among them had talked of
fleeing from the nullah and betaking themselves to M'setu, and it had
needed all Mirambo's authority to check the panic. He had reminded them
of what the m'sungu had already done: how he had escaped the snares of
Reinecke, quelled the German drill-sergeant with a look, led them forth
with Reinecke himself a prisoner, shown them how to fortify the nullah,
driven back the enemy. Surely one who had done all this would not now
fall a prey to the evil men; surely he would come back to them.
Strangely enough, as Tom thought, the old chief's arguments had been
strongly backed by the askaris, who, as fighting-men, were held in
respect by the Wahehe. They expressed the utmost confidence that the
m'sungu would return, and declared for holding the nullah at least until
it was definitely known what had become of him. No doubt their motive
was complicated by fear of the consequences if they fell into German
hands and were treated as deserters; but Tom did not know this, and when
he heard of their loyalty he abandoned his last objections, and resolved
to incorporate them in his fighting force.
He listened to Mirambo's story, interpreted by Mwesa, only for a minute
or two, for there was work to be done. During Mwesa's absence he had
rapidly made his plans. The German askaris in the ravine above had
almost certainly heard the shouts which had greeted his arrival. Their
officer would send men forward to discover the meaning of the shouts,
and what had happened to Reinecke and the Arab. They would no doubt
move with caution, and, unfamiliar with the ground, would take some time
in scouting over the rough, steep slopes, and would probably hesitate to
adventure into the cleft which dropped deep into the unknown. If they
came so far as to find the body of Haroun, they were more likely to
hasten back with the news than to court danger or death themselves by
descending lower. What action, then, would the lieutenant take? He would
wish to learn his superior officer's fate, probably come down with his
men, and, if he discovered the passage into the nullah, might risk an
attack.
Tom felt that he must first guard against this. Getting Mirambo to
choose a dozen of the best shots, he sent them up the ladder, with
orders to post themselves in the cleft behind bushes or boulders, and
fire at the enemy if they appeared. Though outnumbered, with the
advantage of position and surprise they could probably check the
descent. In case they should be driven back, he ordered Mirambo himself
to hold thirty men under cover near the margin of the lake, and at the
same time to keep Reinecke under guard. Mirambo was the last man in the
world to be overcome by any German blandishments.
The non-combatants--old men, women and children--must be protected from
harm. He ordered them to withdraw some little distance down the nullah,
out of range of fire either from above or from the ground at the foot of
the cliff.
For himself, he had resolved on a venturesome, if not a risky, course.
There were still a few hours of daylight left--long enough to lead a
force out of the nullah, along the foothills above, to the ravine where
the enemy were encamped. The probabilities were that, met by rifle-fire
as they descended the cleft, they would hesitate to press an attack
against unknown numbers, and make their way back to headquarters to
report the disappearance of their captain and the necessity of larger
forces. Tom thought that with luck he might reach the mouth of the
ravine in time to ambush them, cut them off, and capture them all. His
men being only partly trained, he would need perhaps twice as many as
the enemy numbered, which meant almost all the Wahehe who were able to
shoot. But his new-born confidence in his askaris led him to adopt the
bold course of leaving them to defend the southern end of the nullah.
It was scarcely likely that another hostile force was approaching in
that direction: Reinecke had probably been confident of an easy victory
through the back door. Yet nothing should be left to chance; and the
defence of the barricade might be safely entrusted for a few hours to
the askaris and the remnant of the Wahehe, with Mirambo and his party at
hand as reinforcements in case of need.
Tom lost no time in making these arrangements, and an hour after his
return he led some eighty men out through the barricade, swung round to
the right, and climbed the foothills over which the course of the ravine
lay.
"They'll have to carry me back," thought Tom, before he had walked a
mile. "Didn't know I was so fagged."
Tom, indeed, had been drawing rather heavily on his physical reserves,
and to-day for the first time weariness warned him against overdoing it.
Now, more than ever, was it necessary that he should not break down, for
he felt certain that the difficulties of his people were only beginning.
Having already been on his feet for eight or nine hours, he found that
march of a few miles, at the close of the day, more exhausting than he
would have imagined. The country was broken and hilly, now bare rock,
now soft spongy ground cumbered with tangled vegetation and overshadowed
by forest trees. But the chance of trapping the force that had been
sent to trap him sustained his spirits; and the mind can, for a time,
compel the body to feats beyond its normal strength. His men, fresh,
vigorous, inspirited by the return of their leader and the recapture of
Reinecke, marched on with eagerness to reach their goal: their
enthusiasm was itself a stimulant to him.
There was no path along those rugged, wooded foot-hills. The sun was
blanketed by the rain-laden sky. It was possible only to guess their
course; and Tom, seeing by his watch that little more than half-an-hour
of daylight was left, began to fear that darkness would surprise him
before he should have struck upon the ravine. But at this very moment of
misgiving he was almost at the edge. A few yards farther brought him to
a sharp declivity. He ordered his men to halt, advanced with Mwesa
through the low-growing trees, and looking cautiously to right and left,
beheld the long hollow that was his journey's end.
It appeared to him that he had hit the ravine at a spot half-way up its
length. None of the enemy was in sight. The askaris, if they remained
where he had last seen them, were probably some distance to the right;
the sentries at the mouth of the ravine must be three or four hundred
yards to the left. These latter must be secured if his plan was to have
full success; so, returning to his men, he chose four to accompany him
and Mwesa, and hastened along through the scrub near the brink of the
ravine.
Scouting with circumspection, he arrived at the place where the steep
sides fell to the level of the surrounding country. The sentries were
not where they had been. He sent Mwesa to worm his way across under
cover of the bushes and to see if he could track the men to another
post. The boy returned sooner than he had expected.
"Fink all gone, sah," said he.
"The sentries, you mean?"
"All fella askaris, sah. All gone, no fear."
"How do you know?"
Mwesa looked down at Tom's feet.
"Dey hab got big boots like sah. Sah come see."
Tom went down with him into the midst of the long grass and the bushes
that covered the centre of the ravine. Broken twigs and branches and
long swathes of trampled grass marked the recent passage of men, and
Mwesa pointed out on the damp soil the impressions of heavy boots, and
showed him that in the freshest the heels were up, not down, the ravine.
A few minutes' investigation in both directions placed it beyond doubt
that, not long before, a body of men had marched westward into the
forest.
"Too late!" muttered Tom. "But we must make sure. Mwesa, scout along
to the cleft. Be quick, for it will be dark soon."
He returned to his party, dragging his weary limbs. In twenty minutes
Mwesa came back, hot and breathless.
"All gone, sah. Haroun him stay: big birds dey find him."
Tom shuddered. The vultures were already at work. "Come, let us get
back," he said. "Get some of the men to make a _machila_. I can't walk
another step, and we can't venture the climb down in the dark."
With two rifles and some pliant tendrils a litter was soon constructed,
and reclining on this Tom headed the march home. He was tired and
disappointed; the men were crestfallen: some asked why the m'sungu did
not pursue the askaris. But Tom was in no condition to follow up the
enemy, even if his reason had favoured the idea. He could only guess at
what had happened: that the lieutenant, alarmed by the distant shouts,
had gone forward, discovered the dead Arab, inferred that Reinecke also
had come to grief, and concluding that the game was up, had withdrawn
his men hurriedly and in something of a panic. To pursue in darkness
would be folly. Tom consoled himself for his disappointment with the
reflection that, after all, more prisoners would have been a
nuisance--so many more mouths to feed, and a burden to the guards.
The homeward journey was slow and laborious: only by the touch of their
bare feet could the Wahehe distinguish in the darkness the tracks they
had made as they came. Tom slumbered a part of the way, and when, at a
late hour, they regained the nullah, he waited only to hear that nothing
had disturbed the peace and to arrange for Reinecke's accommodation
during the night, before seeking his hut and throwing himself, worn out,
upon the mattress of plaited grass which some of the women had made for
him.
Next morning, after ten hours' unbroken sleep, he rose, a little
stiffly, to face the work of another day.
"First job, to dispose of Reinecke," he thought.
The German was in a furious temper.
"You wish to kill me," he cried, when Tom came to him. "You put me in a
wretched native hut, without a fire, without blankets, to perish of
cold, to be struck with ague. As a prisoner of war--you call it war?--I
demand proper treatment, according to international law."
"I don't know anything about international law," said Tom; "common law
and common sense would set you dangling from a tree, I suspect. But I'm
not your judge. While you're here you'll be treated like the other
prisoners. You'll join them on the island yonder."
"I must have a separate hut. In Germany officers and men are never
lodged together: it is forbidden."
"We are not in Germany," said Tom, curtly. "The hut is large enough to
hold you all: there's no room on the island for another, even if time
could be spared to build it. If you feel contaminated by the company of
fellow Germans you can spend your leisure in making for yourself a
partition: there's plenty of material on the island. You can then live
in your own first-class compartment: the men will probably prefer it."
Reinecke was patently surprised. The young cub, as he might have put
it, seemed to have suddenly grown up. Even at that last dinner in the
bungalow Tom had not taken quite this tone with him. He said no more at
the moment: his thoughts were his own. In a few minutes he was punted
across the lake on the raft, and left on the shore of the island to
introduce himself to his fellow captives. Tom smiled as he watched them
salute him, then step hastily aside as, without returning their salute,
he pushed his way into the hut. In a few moments he came out and,
gnawing his moustache, gazed across at the village, and up the side of
the nullah. His lips moved: then he wheeled round and re-entered the
hut, whence he emerged no more that day.
It was a busy day for Tom. He saw that the failure of Reinecke's
expedition was sure to provoke the Germans to a serious attempt to deal
with him. They would no longer hold him lightly, and suppose that he
could be snuffed out by a handful of Askaris. When they came, they
would come in force. It might be in a day or two; it might be perhaps
after a week or more; much would depend on the state of the weather.
Were the interval long or short, it must be utilised to the full in
strengthening his position.
An obvious precaution was to establish scouting posts between
Bismarckburg and the scene of the previous day's adventures. Tom went
over the ground with some of M'setu's men who were in his regular
service as scouts, and fixed on two well-wooded knolls that commanded
the track leading to the ravine. He surveyed the ravine itself with a
view to fortifying it--or rather of blocking the way to the cleft--and
came to the conclusion that this would involve too much labour, even if
it could be achieved with any success. A more feasible scheme was to
form barricades of rocks and trees at various points on the narrow
cleft. These, held by a few men, would interpose awkward obstacles to
any force that attempted to attack by the newly discovered back door.
Tom set some of his men to work at once in erecting three barricades,
some thirty yards apart. Then he clambered down by the ladder, and
realising that that ingenious contrivance would hardly bear the strain
of frequent use, gave directions that it should be strengthened. By
this means communication between the nullah and the cleft above would
always be safe: while in the event of his men being forced back and
followed by the enemy, the ladder could be cut away, leaving the
attackers in the air, so to speak, nearly twenty feet above the ground.
All day the sky threatened rain, and distant rumbles of thunder were
heard; but the storm held off until these preliminary measures had been
carried out. Soon after dark the heavens opened. Thunder growled,
cracked, bellowed: the air was one vast shaking noise. A vivid glare
rose up from the horizon until all the world seemed on fire. Great
bursts of light, now in one quarter, now in another, shot through the
sky like gigantic squibs; and dazzling streaks of jagged brilliance rent
the firmament. And then, in the midst of this wonderful phantasmagoria,
it was as if the fire-maker set out to quench the universal
conflagration. Down fell the rain, in sheets, in torrents, in cascades
of hailstones as large as eggs. The people cowered, shivering,
shrieking, in their huts. Out of the boiling lake the stream poured in
angry flood, hissing and raving like a maddened beast let loose.
Tingling in every nerve, Tom watched the amazing storm for hour after
hour: what were man's puny battles compared with this titanic conflict
of the elements? And it was only when the thunder died away in sullen
mutterings, and the lightning gave pale flickers and tired gleams, but
still the rain roared unceasingly--it was only then that Tom became
alive to the very practical question: would huts, stores, barricades,
all be washed away?