CONCLUSION.
On a warm, sultry evening in the latter part of May the Arabs and
Somalis who hovered about the outskirts of Zaila, keeping well out of
reach of the newly-erected fortifications which bristled with guns and
British soldiery, heard the sweet strains of "Rule Britannia" and "God
Save the Queen" floating over the desert.
It was the regimental band of the Ninth Lancers playing in the square of
the town on the occasion of the installation of the new governor of
Zaila--Colonel Conyers Gordon.
It was Colonel Gordon who had conducted the assault on the town some
weeks previous, and in recognition of his valor--for the enemy had made
a desperate stand--he was now the newly commissioned governor.
The official documents had arrived that day, and the town was _en fete_,
if we may use the expression; for, in addition to the native population
and the soldiery, a number of visitors had come across from Aden to do
honor to the brave commandant.
As the band ceased playing, Colonel Gordon appeared on the steps of the
residency and briefly addressed the expectant people in a few
well-chosen words.
"The tragedy of a few months ago," he concluded, "is still fresh in our
minds. I had the honor to know Sir Arthur Ashby, an honor which many of
you likewise enjoyed, and the sad fate of that brave man and his
companions comes vividly to our minds tonight. I trust that I shall be
enabled to discharge the duties of my office with the same unswerving
fidelity."
Colonel Gordon sat down, and the band played "Rule Britannia."
At that moment the Rhine Castle was dropping anchor in the harbor.
As the band ceased Colonel Gordon rose again, and the people instantly
became quiet. By his side was a short, thickset man with dark, sallow
features.
"I beg to call your attention," began the colonel, "to one who has
played an important part in our recent struggle--Mr. Manuel Torres, a
Portuguese, of whom I can say nothing better than that he deserves to be
an Englishman. At the risk of his own life he tried to save Sir Arthur
Ashby, and after suffering much at the hands of the enemy, he finally
escaped in time to do us valuable service in retaking the town. As a
recognition of his aid, I propose to appoint him Assistant Political
Resident."
Mr. Torres bowed profoundly, and as the people evinced a decided desire
to hear from him, he cleared his throat and began to speak in sleek,
oily tones.
He related, with many gestures, a thrilling tale of his captivity among
the Arabs, the desperate attempts he had made to save Sir Arthur and the
Englishmen from slavery, and how finally he had effected his own
marvelous escape.
At this point a sudden commotion on the outskirts of the crowd
temporarily interrupted the speaker.
"It grieves me deeply," he went on, "to reflect on the sad destiny of my
dear friend, Sir Arthur Ashby, and of those brave men, for whom I had
the highest honor and regard. I risked my life to save them. I
interceded with the Arab leader, Makar Makalo, but in vain. He was
obdurate. To bring them back from slavery I would willingly lay down my
life this minute. I would gladly----"
What else Mr. Manuel Torres was willing to do no one ever knew or will
know. He ceased speaking abruptly, and his sallow face assumed a ghastly
look.
Through the opening ranks of the people advanced a group of pale and
haggard men, led by a ghastly figure with sandy side whiskers in a faded
uniform that hung about his shrunken limbs.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed this odd-looking stranger. "It's that
rascally Portuguese, Manuel Torres!"
A great silence fell on the people. For one second the Portuguese
trembled like a leaf, then he turned and bolted through the residency
door, shoving Colonel Gordon roughly aside in his mad haste.
"Stop him! Stop him!" roared the stranger. "A thousand pounds to the man
who takes him alive. He's the ringleader of the insurrection!"
Colonel Gordon hurried down the steps in bewildered amazement.
"What does this mean?" he demanded. "Who are you?"
"Who am I?" shouted he of the sandy whiskers. "Why, blast your
impudence, I'm Sir Arthur Ashby, the governor of Zaila. Who the deuce
are you?"
The scene that followed baffles all description. The air rang with
frenzied shouts and cheers, soldiers, natives, and visitors surged madly
round the little band, and the musicians, quick to grasp the situation,
struck up the inspiring strains of "Lo, the Conquering Hero Comes!"
Sir Arthur shook himself loose from the embrace of his enthusiastic
friends.
"The Portuguese!" he roared. "The rascal will escape. Pursue him!
Capture him!"
Now the people comprehended for the first time. A furious rush was made
for the residency, the door was jammed in an instant with a struggling
crowd of troops and civilians, and then they swept on through the broad
hallway in pursuit of the wretched fugitive.
In five minutes the town was in an indescribable uproar. The vessels in
the harbor fired showers of rockets, and the alarm guns boomed hoarsely
from the fortifications.
Manuel Torres, however, overthrown at the very moment of his greatest
triumph, made good his escape. He bolted through the back door of the
residency, evaded the sentries at the town wall, and fled to the desert.
That same night, after a sumptuous repast, Guy Chutney, at Sir Arthur's
request, modestly related the story of their adventures to the most
interested audience that ever graced the walls of the residency. A
breathless silence greeted the speaker as he showed the damnable proofs
of Manuel Torres' guilt and treachery, and described with thrilling
effect the awful journey through the bowels of the earth. When he
concluded the tale that made him a hero in spite of himself, a burst of
applause fairly made the residency tremble.
Then Sir Arthur rose to his feet.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a voice which quivered with emotion, "I deem
this to be a fitting time to express my--to express _our_--admiration of
my young countryman. All my comrades. I am glad to say, displayed a
heroism, during our days of trial and suffering, which has never been
surpassed by any men in any clime. But, if one man is worthy of special
mention for cool bravery, for dogged perseverance, for unflinching,
unwavering fortitude and unselfishness, that man is Guy Chutney.
Gentlemen," he continued, raising his glass, "I ask you to drink with me
to the health of the bravest man I ever met--Guy Chutney."
Again a frantic outburst of applause shook the building, and the toast
was drunk with indescribable enthusiasm. But Guy strove to make himself
heard above the uproar.
"It is unfair," he said earnestly, when quiet had been partially
restored, "of Sir Arthur to credit me with what I am aware is far more
than my just due. Truthfully, it should be said that no one of us
surpassed his fellows in displaying the qualities Sir Arthur has just
enumerated. Such an experience is enough for a lifetime, but if I am
ever again called upon to face such perils as we encountered while under
Africa, may God grant that I have for comrades such true-hearted, loyal
friends as these."
Carrington, Forbes, and Canaris each spoke briefly in turn; and Bildad,
under the undue excitement of some wine he had managed to secure,
attempted to perform a Galla war-dance on the table, and was promptly
relegated to the guard-house to sober up.
At midnight a steamer left Zaila for Aden with the glad news, and
twenty-four hours later the streets of London were blocked with crowds
of people reading the amazing telegram that the newspapers had posted on
their bulletin boards.
Colonel Conyers Gordon, of course, was not governor of Zaila at all, and
though it must have been a sore disappointment to the brave old soldier,
he readily and gladly installed Sir Arthur in the residency and assumed
his former command of the troops.
Sir Arthur, However, had very different views. "Do you mean to say,
Gordon," he demanded, "that the government actually gave me up for lost,
and had no intention of sending an expedition after me at all?"
Colonel Gordon hesitatingly admitted that such was the case.
"Then," cried Sir Arthur, "I wash my hands of such a government. I will
go home to England, and may the infernal Arabs hang, draw, and quarter
me if I ever set foot on African soil again."
"I trust, Sir Arthur," argued Colonel Gordon, "you will not act hastily
in this matter. You will admit that the government was somewhat
justified in believing your case a hopeless one. The fate of you and
your brave companions was thought by everybody to have been nothing
short of death. I am sure, had the authorities had the slightest idea
that you were living, an expedition would have been sent out. No stone
would have been left unturned to rescue you."
"Well," said Sir Arthur, somewhat mollified, "I cannot deny that things
pointed to our demise. We expected to see you again as little as you
expected to see us, probably."
"I am glad," said Colonel Gordon, "that you have decided to take a more
reasonable view of the matter. Will you not reconsider your
determination of resigning your post? Let no consideration for me stop
you, I beg of you. I should, of course, be glad to accept the position,
but yours is undoubtedly the prior right, and your previous experience
has amply proven your ability."
"Colonel," Sir Arthur replied solemnly, "I'm going back to England. I'm
sick of Africa. I've had a little more than a genteel sufficiency during
the past few months, and I'm pining for a sight of dear old England. I'm
going home."
Sir Arthur kept his word. On the same day he mailed his resignation, and
handed the reins of office to Colonel Gordon.
After careful consideration, Colonel Carrington decided to accept the
post of Assistant Political Resident that Gordon offered him, subject,
of course, to the wishes of the Foreign Office.
Chutney had at first intended going on to India, but letters from home
informing him of the serious illness of his brother decided his return
to England, and he sailed from Aden a week later, in company with Sir
Arthur and Melton Forbes, who had been recalled by his paper as soon as
they learned of his wonderful journey.
Canaris accompanied them as far as Port Said, where he changed to a
vessel bound for Rhodes. He was eager to see Greece after his long
captivity among the Somalis, and at last accounts he was the proprietor
of a celebrated cafe at Athens, having inherited a tidy sum of money
from a deceased relative.
Bildad expressed a desire to go back to the Galla country, and Colonel
Gordon finally succeeded in obtaining safe passage for him with a
caravan bound for the interior.
Manuel Torres met the fate his treachery duly merited. Two days after
his escape from Zaila he fell into the hands of a party of prowling
Arabs, and was conveyed by them to Makar Makolo, who determined that he
should receive fitting punishment for his renegade conduct. Accordingly
he sent him under strong escort to Harar, and Rao Khan very obligingly
carried out his friend Makar's wishes by cooking the wretched Portuguese
in a caldron of boiling oil.
A remarkable thing occurred in the fourth month of Governor Gordon's
rulership at Zaila.
A bronzed Englishman arrived one day with a caravan from the interior.
He was speedily recognized as Captain Waller, and he told a strange
story of his adventures.
Mombagolo, the burman, who, in company with the captain and the Hindoos,
had been taken into slavery by a tribe of Gallas who dwelt far to the
west, had been chosen chief of this tribe on the death of its king,
probably on account of his stature and strength.
His first royal act was to effect the deliverance of Captain Waller by
sending him to the coast. The Hindoos had chosen to remain where they
were. Captain Waller eventually returned to England, and Forbes was
deeply grieved to learn that he would never see Momba again, though it
was some consolation to know that, instead of a slave, he was an African
monarch.
Guy reached England barely in time to see his brother before he died. As
Sir Lucius Chutney was unmarried, Guy succeeded to the titles and
estates.
As a landed proprietor, his duties very plainly lay at home, so he
resigned his commission and settled down on the Hampshire estate.
He spends much of his time in London. He and Sir Arthur Ashby are
members of the same club, and the two baronets invariably dine
together.
"Chutney," Sir Arthur said one day, as he lit his cigar after dinner,
"have you ever felt any desire to leave England and resume an
adventurous life?"
Chutney puffed a moment in silence.
"Sometimes," he said finally. "Sometimes I feel as though I should enjoy
laying aside home comforts, and, gun in hand, enter the trackless
forests once more. Somehow civilization palls on a man after years of
campaigning. Don't you find it so, Ashby?"
"That," replied Sir Arthur, "is just what I was getting at. Generally I
feel a placid contentment with things in general, but once in a while a
sort of fever stirs my blood, and I long to get out and rough it
somewhere. I tell you, a wild life has a certain charm about it that
dies out reluctantly when the fever once gets into a man's blood. Some
day I really believe I'll return to Africa, or some other wild land, for
big game. I should enjoy it."
Chutney grasped his hand.
"When you do, old fellow, I'm with you," he said. But so far they have
not decided on any definite arrangements. They talk it over frequently,
but continue to dine at the club.
Sometimes Forbes drops in, and then from soup to the wine the
conversation is sure to cling with unwavering fidelity to that topic of
deepest interest--the strange and thrilling things that befell them when
they were under Africa.
THE END.
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Transcriber's Notes
1. This text appeared under several titles:
* as "Under Africa; or, The Strange Manuscript of the White Slave"
The Argosy No. 398-411, 19 Jul-18 Oct, 1890
* as "The River of Darkness." The Argosy, May-Nov, 1897
* as "The Underground River. A Tale of Wonderful Adventure in
Africa," n.d. (c. 1900). London: James Henderson,
"Budget" Story Books No. 603.
* as "The River of Darkness; or, Under Africa"
Chicago: Thompson and Thomas, 1902
* as "Guy in the Jungle; or,
A Boy's Adventure in the Wilds of Africa,"
Chicago: M.A. Donohue & Co., n.d. (c. 1903)
2. This etext derived from 1902 Thompson and Thomas edition.
3. Table of Contents was not present in original edition.
4. Corrections to the text:
p. 36: acident -> accident (delayed by an accident)
p. 42: demnostration -> demonstration (hostile demonstration)
p. 46: appearedover -> appeared over
(suddenly appeared over the sand-hills)
p. 55: layind -> laying (laying hold of Sir Arthur)
p. 106: "out of reach of these fiends, ages." ->
"out of reach of these fiends."
p. 113: Arican -> African (The African sun)
p. 134: "Must we starve then" -> "Must we starve then?"
p. 141: "it seffect" -> "its effect" (declaration had its effect)
p. 220: canoe -> raft (raft drifted on through the gloom)
p. 226: huried -> hurried (hurried off at once.)
End of Project Gutenberg's The River of Darkness, by William Murray Graydon