For the rest of the night Tom got no sleep. Listening to the rush of the
torrent through the nullah he waited anxiously for the dawn. As soon as
there was light enough, he went out to see what havoc the storm had
wrought. The worst anticipations were not realised, but the damage was
serious enough. Some of the huts were broken down; one or two of those
nearest to the stream had been washed away; the defences at the bend
almost obliterated; and the barricade of trees at the entrance of the
nullah showed many gaps. But the slope of the ground and the depth of
the channel had been sufficient to carry off almost all the overflow
from the lake, and there seemed to be no danger of the village on the
higher ground at the north end being flooded out. The prisoners' hut on
the island had suffered nothing except from leaks in the roof, and these
Reinecke had at once set his subordinates to repair.
The rain had ceased, and as soon as it was possible to dig, Tom ordered
his men to reconstruct the damaged defences. More trees were packed
into the barricades, the ditch outside it was widened and deepened; the
trenches on the slopes were recut and strengthened, and a communication
trench was dug from each to the bed of the nullah, so that their
garrisons could be reinforced at need, under cover from the enemy's
fire. The trench and parapet at the bend were also restored, and at
each end, some twenty-five feet above the bed of the nullah, a small
blockhouse of rocks was erected, in which half a dozen men, through
apertures left for rifle fire, could enfilade any attacking party that
advanced on either bank of the stream.
Tom had hitherto made no attempt to communicate with the British
authorities beyond the border. He reflected that their hands were full,
and while he was in no immediate danger he hesitated to embarrass them.
Now, however, when it was clear that the Germans would make a serious
effort to deal with him, and major operations were interrupted by the
rains, he resolved to try to get a message through to Abercorn,
explaining his position. He wrote on leaves from his pocket-book a
brief account of what he had been doing, made a copy, gave the
duplicated messages to two of the best scouts from M'setu's contingent,
and sent them off on successive days. The papers, which they carried
folded in their loin-cloths, were addressed "The Commanding Officer,
Abercorn." A single man should be able to cross the hills and the Neu
Langenburg road without much risk of being caught. The journey might
take three or four days, so that it would be at least a week before an
answer could be received, even in the most favourable circumstances.
Several days passed, on most of which rain fell. Feeling pretty sure
that the enemy would not attack in such weather, Tom took every possible
advantage of the breathing space, improving the defences, drilling his
men, and shooting game in the neighbourhood, in order to eke out his
fast diminishing stores of food. He also practised his scouts in the
system of shouting messages, and was not much surprised to find that
some of his posts had been deserted: it was hardly to be expected that
M'setu's men, undisciplined negroes, would show fortitude enough to
remain at their stations in pelting rain-storms. But since it was of
vital importance that the scouting should be efficient, he considered
how best to surmount the very real difficulty that had manifested
itself. After a good deal of thought, he decided to reduce the number
of posts, retaining only those that commanded the main routes, and to
have these frequently inspected by Mirambo or some other trustworthy
native. With Mirambo he himself made a round of the posts--a task that
occupied him for two days--and as the result of this personal visit
found himself able to devise a simplified scheme that promised to be
successful.
The outermost line of posts was established on the hills north of the
Neu Langenburg road, in such spots that any movement on about twenty
miles of its course must be seen by at least one of his men. Taking
this line as the base of a triangle, and the mouth of the nullah as the
apex, he arranged for posts to be held along the sides, and also on
perpendicular lines to the sides from the base. While he thus somewhat
narrowed the area that was watched, he concentrated observation on the
quarters from which danger was most to be expected, and, needing fewer
men, was able to give them shorter spells.
On returning one day from a shooting expedition, he learnt that messages
had been received not long before from a scouting post near the Neu
Langenburg road. The first message was that an armed party had been
seen marching from the direction of Bismarckburg; the second, that the
party consisted of two white officers with a number of askaris, and had
struck into a track which would lead past Reinecke's plantation to the
nullah. One of the askaris carried a white flag.
"Parlementaires," thought Tom. "They want to negotiate? Well, I must
hear what they have to say."
For a moment he thought of going out at the head of a party of his men
to meet the enemy; but reflecting that he had no precise information of
their number, and that their object might be to lure him from his
defences, he decided to remain behind the barricade.
Presently another message came through his chain of scouts, announcing
that the strangers had just passed a post about ten miles from the
nullah. After some two hours and a half he learnt that they were now
within five miles. Thereupon he ordered his men to take up their
allotted positions behind the barricade and in the trenches, and sent
Mwesa to the nearest scouting post, about two miles distant, to watch
for the enemy's coming, and to run back and tell him how many they were.
Mwesa was the only negro whom he could trust to form even an approximate
estimate of their number.
In due time the lad came back with the report that the askaris were no
more than twenty. Reassured that no attack was intended by so small a
force, Tom awaited their arrival with composure.
"But they mustn't come too close," he thought, "or they'll see too
much."
He scribbled in German a note on a leaf from his pocket-book--
"Mr. Willoughby presents his compliments," he wrote, "and has the honour
to say that he, with ten men, will meet the recipient of this note, also
with ten men, at the edge of the forest, three hundred yards from his
position. Any attempt to advance across the clearing will be resisted."
"Run and give that to the commanding officer," he said to Mwesa, "and
come back with his answer."
"Him say no come back," said Mwesa, looking uncomfortable.
"Not at all. He won't prevent you. Be quick."
The boy ran off, disappeared in the forest, and in twenty minutes was
seen speeding back again.
"You have an answer?" asked Tom.
"Him look at paper, den laugh and talk to other man; me no savvy what
say. Den he tell me all right."
"In English?"
"Yes, sah, he talk English same as me."
It was not long before a party of men emerged from the forest beyond the
clearing, and halted. There were ten askaris, one of whom carried a
white flag; and in the tall German accompanying them Tom recognised the
officer who had been his fellow-passenger on the _Hedwig von Wissmann_
months before.
Collecting the ten men whom he had already chosen, Tom passed out
through the barricade and advanced to meet the German.
"Good day, Mr. Willoughby," said Major von Rudenheim, saluting. "You
will remember me, no doubt. We were on board the _Hedwig von Wissmann_
together."
"I remember you, Major," replied Tom, a little puzzled by this tone of
friendliness; "but I was not aware that I had come within your line of
vision."
"Oh yes, I saw you," returned the major with a slight smile, "and I have
heard a good deal about you since. But you have got yourself into a
very awkward position, young man."
He spoke in the tone a benevolent uncle might have used towards a small
boy.
"Yes, your people have found it awkward," said Tom, smoothly.
"You take me too literally, Mr. Willoughby. But youth is often
adventurous, and thoughtless; you do not quite realise the consequences
of your rash actions. It is a pity that a private quarrel should have
led you to take steps which bring you into conflict with the military
power. The outbreak of war, of course, made you a public enemy; but if
you had not been in such haste to pay off old scores it would have been
easy to arrange for your departure into British territory."
"I assure you, Major, what you call a private quarrel had nothing
whatever to do with my action. We will leave my private affairs out of
the question. As you say, I became a public enemy. Well?"
"You do not understand, perhaps, that we should be justified in treating
you as a spy." The major's tone was not quite so friendly now.
"I don't understand what you are driving at," said Tom, bluntly.
"Hadn't you better come to the point?"
A flicker of annoyance passed over the German's face. It vanished
instantly, and when he spoke again it was in the suave tones he had
employed at the beginning of the interview.
"I come to make a reasonable--a friendly arrangement. There are certain
Germans, I believe, in your hands. I am not sure whether----"
"To save time--I have a sergeant, two privates, and Mr. Reinecke."
"Ah! And also certain askaris----"
"Africans, not Germans."
"But in our service, therefore Germans. Also a number of natives who
were being recruited for our army--potential Germans. Now, since it is
obvious that you cannot maintain your position indefinitely, you will no
doubt see the reasonableness of the proposal I put to you, namely, that
you surrender the German subjects you hold as prisoners, in exchange for
a safe-conduct for yourself and any twelve men you may select, to the
British lines."
"And the rest? Besides the men, I have many women and children. What
will you do with them?"
"That will be in the discretion of my superiors. The non-combatants will
no doubt return to their employment, from which they were enticed away.
As for the able-bodied men, technically they are mutineers and liable to
be shot. But in consideration of their ignorance they may possibly be
pardoned and allowed to re-enlist."
"It is hardly a _quid pro quo_, is it?" said Tom. "You must be aware
that I could at any time during the past two or three months have made
my way to the British lines with all my able-bodied men without a
safe-conduct. You propose that I should save my skin at the expense of
handing back those poor creatures to the slavery they have been glad to
escape from?"
"What are the niggers to you, Mr. Willoughby? The war, _ipso facto_, has
dissolved your partnership with Mr. Reinecke. Your interest in the
plantation and its workers has lapsed."
"Far from it: my interest in the workers is greater than ever. I
enticed them away, you say; and believing that, you invite me to betray
them! Upon my word, Major von Rudenheim, those who sent you with an
invitation like that must have so low a standard of honour that I should
prefer not to trust to any assurances on their part."
"You impeach my honour, sir?" cried the German, with an angry glare.
"I take it that you are obeying orders, Major," replied Tom, quietly.
"Those niggers, as you call them, are under my protection: I say that
any one who proposes that I should abandon them on the terms you offer
holds _my_ honour very lightly. I don't think there is anything more to
be said."
"Only this, sir. You reject a reasonable offer: I have not stated the
alternative. The niggers are under your protection! It will not serve
them. They will be exterminated, and you----"
"Yes?"
The major laughed.
"You will fall--on the field of honour!" he said with a sneer, "or be
captured and shot."
And with that he turned on his heel and strode off at the head of his
men.