Running the Last Gauntlet
AT daybreak Hugh sat up. Gerald had fallen into a broken slumber,
while the correspondent was still sleeping soundly. The lad was
puzzled. When the boat stuck, her bows were pointing towards the
setting sun; now they.-were inclined towards the east. He made his
way for'ard. The craft rocked easily under his weight. A glance at
the cable revealed the fact that the boat had floated, and was riding
to the full scope of the anchor rope.
"We're afloat!" he shouted. Reeves was instantly awake, but Gerald
muttered something about crocodiles.
"They have cleared off," exclaimed Hugh joyfully, "and we can clear
off as soon as we like."
"How about breakfast?" asked Gerald drowsily.
"Breakfast had better wait till we get into deeper water," replied
Reeves. "Heave up the anchor, Rags; I'll pole her along."
Very slowly the boat glided through the shallow water, the
correspondent sounding with the oar. For quite a hundred yards the
depth was uniform, then, with a suddenness that almost caused Reeves
to lose his balance, the oar clipped into deeper water.
"Let go the anchor again!" he shouted. "There are at least twelve
feet here. We must have struck the channel."
After breakfast the voyage was resumed; but although the halyards had
been repaired and freshly rove, and the wind was fair, Reeves would
not hoist the sail for fear of running hard aground again. An hour's
steady pull brought them to the lower end of the lake, whence the
river, now nearly a quarter of a mile in breadth, flowed swiftly in a
south-westerly direction.
During the next three days the course lay betwixt sandbanks, with the
apparently interminable desert stretching for miles on either hand.
Two more cataracts were encountered. The first was shot with little
difficulty, but the second, when viewed from upstream, presented a
line of broken water extending from bank to bank, with rocks studded
thickly across the bed.
So formidable was the aspect that Reeves ran the boat ashore, and,
having secured her, the three travellers walked downstream to take
stock of the-latest difficulty. Here they found that, although
powerful, the rapid kept an almost clear course close to the bank.
"Can we shoot it?" asked Gerald.
"I shouldn't care to try it," replied Reeves. "This little channel is
not wide enough to allow any margin for sheering about. We must
veer the boat through it."
Accordingly the cable was made fast to the foremost thwart and led
ashore over the gunwale at a distance of about three feet from the
stem. The boat was pushed off into the stream, and the three members
of her crew, standing on the bank, held the rope.
Caught by the current, the craft began to drift downstream till the
cable became taut. There she lay, held as steady as a rock, with the
water hissing past her like a mill race.
Slowly the crew began to walk downstream, the boat preceding them and
maintaining a uniform distance from the shore.
"Take it easily and keep your strength," cautioned Reeves; "she's not
got to the worst part yet."
When the boat entered the cataract it took all their united efforts
to hold her. Frequently they were dragged several yards, their heels
cutting long furrows in the sand and clay; but by doggedly sticking
to their task they succeeded in steering their craft almost through
the foaming torrent. But without warning the rope parted, and the
three men found themselves sprawling on their backs, while the boat
glided aimlessly and rapidly downstream.
Springing to his feet, Reeves coiled up the severed portion of the
cable and ran as hard as he could, his comrades following and
wondering what would happen next. Should the boat strike a rock and
fill, they would be hopelessly stranded, since their arms,
ammunition, and provisions were on board.
But a special providence seemed to guide the derelict, and, untouched
by any of the formidable rocks, it gained the deeper yet still
swift-flowing part of the stream.
Without hesitation the correspondent took a magnificent "header" and
swam for the truant; but ere he had covered half the distance a huge,
slimy black mass rose to the surface. It was a hippopotamus!
The lads shouted, but Reeves had already perceived the danger. It was
touch and go which of the two would reach the boat first. The swimmer
did so by a short head, and as he clambered over the side the
animal's teeth closed upon the gunwale. There was a scrunch as the
powerful jaws wrenched the woodwork asunder, leaving a jagged gap two
feet across.
The hippopotamus returned to the attack; but this time Reeves was
ready for her. Seizing a gun, he held the muzzle almost against the
animal's eye and pressed the trigger. With a hideous cry the brute
dived, leaving a long crimson trail in the water.
Grasping one of the long oars, the correspondent laboriously urged
the boat towards the bank, and ten minutes later the lads were safely
on board. As they pushed off, Gerald pointed to an object floating
downstream. It was the body of the hippopotamus.
"Not a bad shot for the flintlock," remarked Reeves. "The beggar
deserved it. Luckily the danger to the boat is confined to the
gunwale, but we must be careful if we encounter any more broken
water."
At length the desert was left behind, and the river plunged into the
midst of a dense forest. Day after day passed, with nothing to be
seen but tall trees and a thick undergrowth. The heat, too, began to
increase, while every night a thick, miasmal mist arose. Mosquitoes
appeared in swarms, and so determined were their attentions that the
faces and arms of the crew were masses of blisters. The enervating
vapour began to tell on the lads after the bracing air of the
Croixilian plateau, and soon a pair of more unhealthy-looking people
could hardly be imagined.
Reeves was greatly worried. Without even the most simple remedies or
drugs, the chances of warding off an attack of fever were greatly
reduced; but the lads kept up their spirits wonderfully, knowing that
every hour brought them nearer to civilization.
At length, in an opening in the forest, a village came in sight--a
collection of miserable mud huts, thatched with palm leaves. Directly
they caught sight of the boat the inhabitants ran down to the water's
edge, where they stood gazing fixedly, with wide-open mouths, at the
strange sight.
"If we meet with no worse reception than that, I shan't mind," said
Reeves, as a bend in the river hid the natives from view. "One thing,
they are not Arabs."
"What are they?"
"Negroes--possibly Hausas. It's a good sign, since we know that we
are approaching Nigerian territory. I shall be very much surprised if
this river is not a tributary of the Niger, in which case we ought
soon to stumble across one of the trading stations of the Northern
Nigeria Company."
After this riverside villages became numerous, but beyond undisguised
surprise the natives showed no sign of hostility until the boat
passed a large stockaded town, in front of which several canoes were
drawn up.
Here, as before, the natives rushed pell-mell to the bank, several of
them holding up earthenware pots, while all of them shouted
discordantly.
"They want to barter, evidently--another good sign. But we must not
run any risk with these niggers."
Seeing that the occupants of the boat paid no attention to their
shouts and gestures, the negroes began to beat tom-toms. This was a
signal for a swarm of men armed with spears to rush for the canoes,
and soon half a dozen "dug-outs", each urged by twenty paddles, were
tearing downstream in pursuit.
"This looks bad!" exclaimed Reeves. "Stand by the steering oar,
Gerald. Hugh, hand me up those guns."
In spite of the strong wind, that bore the boat along at a rapid
pace, the canoes were steadily gaining, and the woods echoed to the
monotonous war song of the natives and the rhythmical beat of the
paddles.
Kneeling, Reeves fired a shot well above the heads of the men in the
leading canoe. For an instant the paddlers hesitated, then with the
greatest persistency redoubled their efforts.
"Rough luck!" growled Reeves. "I must wing some of them." Ere he
picked up a second musket he drew his trusty automatic pistol and
opened the magazine. Nine cartridges only remained.
Presently one of the negroes laid aside his paddle, and, standing in
the bows of the canoe, levelled a huge gun that had once been the
property of an elephant hunter.
Knowing that the charge might contain slugs, old nails, and a
miscellaneous assortment of scrap iron, Reeves, who had no particular
antipathy to a respectable bullet, ducked behind the transom of the
boat, the lads having already taken refuge on the bottom boards.
With a resounding crash the elephant gun went off. Reeves instantly
sprang to his feet to return the compliment, but the negro was no
longer visible. His antiquated weapon had burst, sending him--a
mangled corpse--into the river.
In the confusion the fugitives managed to gain a hundred yards; but
the pursuers were not to be shaken off by an accident that is a
common occurrence where "trade guns" are in general use. On and on
they came, until within throwing distance, when a flight of spears
was hurled with great precision, five or six being left quivering in
the boat.
Reeves's reply was a charge of duck shot that put one canoe out of
action. The others immediately diverged, and, forming into two lines,
attempted to overtake the fugitives' boat on both quarters.
Hugh fired with successful results, while Gerald, handing a loaded
musket to the correspondent, proceeded to recharge the first weapon.
But in spite of the initial success of the encounter the odds were
greatly against the white men. With modern weapons the result would
have been quickly decided, but the time taken up in reloading the
flintlocks gave the blacks an advantage. They were closing again, and
spears began to flash over the boat, or to sink deeply into her
planking. Reeves realized that the time had come for desperate
measures. Grasping his pistol, he fired seven shots in rapid
succession into the crowd that manned the nearest canoe. The strange
sight of a man literally pouring out a hail of bullets filled the
negroes, with terror. Those who escaped the shots leapt overboard and
swam for the nearest craft.
Again raising his weapon, the correspondent pointed it menacingly at
the nearest "dug-out" on the other side. The effect was magical, for
those who could swim jumped overboard, while those who could not
cowered into the bottom of the canoe. The other canoes maintained a
respectful distance, but had no intention of relinquishing the
pursuit.
So far, good, Reeves thought; but what would happen when night fell?
"What's that?" exclaimed Gerald, as in a momentary lull in the shouts
of the natives a distant _pop, pop, pop_, was borne to their ears.
Hugh and the correspondent listened intently for a few moments. The
sound, whatever it might be, was coming nearer and nearer.
Suddenly Reeves raised a musket and fired into the air. Beyond a bend
in the river the report of an answering shot reverberated between the
tree-lined banks, while the rapid pulsation of an engine grew louder
and louder.
The negroes heard the sounds too, and seized by panic they turned
about and paddled upstream for dear life.
"We're safe, lads!" exclaimed Reeves, in a broken voice. "Look!"
Sweeping round the bend came a large white motor boat, covered from
stem to stern with canvas awnings, while standing about a quick-firer
in her bows were five or six blacks, dressed in a kind of zouave
uniform--blue coats, red waistcoats, and baggy white trousers.
Almost before the three travellers could realize the turn things had
taken, the launch was alongside, with the motor reversed to check her
way. Under the canopy were two bronzed and bearded white men, dressed
in soiled and creased white drill uniforms.
"Any damage?" asked one of the officers. "No? Good! Have a cigar.
Come far?"
These questions, seemingly so commonplace after the trials and
difficulties they had undergone, almost took the lads' breath away;
but Reeves, knowing that the imperturbability of the Englishman
abroad is generally a mask to conceal the emotions he is ashamed of
betraying, merely accepted the proffered weed with a laconic
"Thanks!"
The smoke--after his vain hankering for tobacco for months--raised
him to the seventh heaven of delight.
"Come aboard; we'll tow you down to Nali," continued the officer. "My
name's Jones, by the by. What's yours?"
"Reeves."
"Not the war correspondent!"
"What's left of him."
"By Jove, that's strange! Only the other day we had a batch of papers
through, and I remember there was nearly a column devoted to your
obituary."
"Very kind of the Press, I'm sure. Did they say what happened to me?"
"Only that an Italian airman saw the bodies of you and your two young
companions lying in the desert, or in an oasis, rather. He dropped a
bomb in the midst of the Arabs, and returned with the news. But how
on earth did you manage to get here?"
It was a long story, and by the time that Reeves had finished his
narrative the motor launch had reached the frontier post of Nali,
seven hundred miles from the Gold Coast. Here good use was made of
the telegraph, and by noon on the following day the _London
Intelligence_ came out with double-leaded headlines, announcing the
safe arrival of their missing correspondent and the two lads, whose
disappearance had been the subject of much anxiety and speculation;
while the news of the discovery of Croixilia aroused so much
enthusiasm that long before Reeves reached the coast he received
nearly a dozen tempting offers for his services as a lecturer in the
principal towns of the United Kingdom.
* * * * *
Three weeks later Mr. Reeves--the "mister" had been dropped when
beyond the pale of civilization--and his two charges again set foot
in their native land.
Gerald was met by his parents and taken north, but the correspondent
accompanied Hugh to his home at Shoreham, where the meeting between
the lad and his parents can better be imagined than described.
"Our deepest thanks are due to you, Reeves," remarked Mr. Frazer,
when the two men found themselves alone. "Now it's all over, one can
look more calmly upon the situation; and I cannot help noticing that
Hugh has changed considerably."
"In appearance?"
"And in manners. Hugh was undoubtedly a selfish lad, but now he seems
to realize that there are others in the world besides himself. This
experience has been the making of him. Having to go without luxuries,
for instance, though discomfiting at the time, makes one doubly
appreciate them when----"
"When you return home," concluded Reeves, contentedly replenishing
his pipe.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
_At the Villafield Press, Glasgow, Scotland_
End of Project Gutenberg's Captured at Tripoli, by Percy F. Westerman