A COUNCIL OF WAR
Forrester sat musing on what he had learnt from the sick man's broken
phrases and the scrap of paper. It was little enough. The stranger's
companion, Beresford, had been captured, presumably by natives, at a
spot four days' march distant in the hills. His friend had come alone
over at least a hundred miles of wild country to seek help. The pencil
line traced his course; the names no doubt roughly described conspicuous
natural features that would serve as landmarks on his return. But who
were the captors? Where was the place of durance? What did he mean by
"the shutter"? In what direction lay the point on the route called
"Monkey Face"? Without answers to these questions it seemed to
Forrester that nothing could be attempted on behalf of the prisoner.
A glance at the invalid showed that he was either asleep or fallen into
a stupor. Forrester rose, and paced to and fro, half inclined to wake
his friends before the time. The dismal hoot of an owl close at hand,
several times repeated, jarred his nerves; by the natives the bird was
suspected of possessing the power to scent out those about to die.
Though scouting such superstitions, Forrester felt oppressed and uneasy,
so that it was with real relief he heard, as he passed the tent,
Mackenzie's voice rasp out from the interior:--
"De'il take the fowl!"
"You're awake, Mac?" he said, putting his head in.
"Who could sleep through yon soul-terrifying clamour?"
"Neither soft nor sweet," murmured Jackson. "How is he, Dick?"
"Asleep now, but he's been talking. As you're awake, get up, and I'll
tell you."
Throwing rugs about them, they joined him, and all three returned to the
fire. Forrester repeated the man's words, and showed them the paper.
"He's not daft, think ye, with his camels and monkeys?" said Mackenzie.
"He was sane enough when he drew this diagram," Forrester replied.
They examined it in turn.
"I say, here's a word you've missed," said Jackson, suddenly. "It's
very faint, and badly smudged. I can hardly make it out, but it's
'Falls,' isn't it?"
They scrutinised the paper eagerly in the firelight.
"You're right," said Forrester. "That's his starting-point, by the look
of it: some waterfall or other."
The stranger's pocket-book was lying on the ground where Forrester had
placed it after removing the paper. Mackenzie picked it up.
"Don't you think we might?" he asked.
"It's the only way," said Jackson. "Find out who he is, and make
inquiries about him as soon as we get back."
Mackenzie opened the case. From one of its pockets he drew forth a roll
of rouble notes, from another a couple of letters addressed to Captain
Redfern at Peshawar, and finally a small note-book.
"There's his name," said Forrester. "The note-book may help us."
He found, however, on opening this, that the leaves contained nothing
but jottings of words and phrases in unfamiliar tongues, with their
English equivalents. There was no clue to his destination or the object
of his journey, no mention of his companion.
"We're not much forarder," said Forrester. "The only thing to do is to
get home as quickly as possible to-morrow, and wire through to Sadiya or
Calcutta. Somebody will know something about him."
They talked for a few minutes longer; then Forrester and Jackson
returned to the tent, leaving Mackenzie to take his spell of watching.
The camp was astir early. While the coolies were packing up, and Hamid
was preparing breakfast, Forrester sent Sher Jang to the village half a
mile away to enlist carriers for the sick man. In an hour the shikari
returned with four lithe, well-developed young Mishmis, whose only
clothing was a loin-cloth of bark and strips of bamboo coiled about
their arms and legs. The villagers' gratitude for the destruction of the
man-eater disposed them to undertake any service for their deliverers,
especially when that service was to be rewarded with pay.
After breakfast, a litter was quickly constructed of a blanket and two
bamboo stalks cut from the border of the stream. On this they placed
Captain Redfern; he was still unconscious, and neither spoke nor
stirred; and by eight o'clock the caravan was in movement.
Their way led them through the village. Here they waited to receive the
thanks of the head-man, who presented them with a number of fowls in
token of his gratitude. A crowd of men gathered around the litter,
chattering excitedly in sing-song tones. Sher Jang presently drew
Forrester aside.
"They talk of prisoners, sahib," he said in a whisper. "There are two
strangers; may one of them be the captain sahib's friend?"
"Ask the head-man," said Forrester, eagerly.
The shikari's question seemed to cause the head-man some embarrassment.
At first he denied that there was any truth in his young men's gossip,
but on Sher Jang's insisting, with threats which Forrester would hardly
have countenanced, he confessed that two strangers had indeed been
brought into the village the night before. A party of the villagers had
been away on an excursion some fifteen miles across the Brahmaputra.
(He did not disclose the object of the expedition, but the shikari
guessed that it was not unconnected with head hunting.) They were
marching through the jungle when suddenly they heard a rustle and hid
themselves. Two men came in sight, not naked Abors, as they had
expected to see, but strangers, clothed. They had captured them without
difficulty, for the men bore no weapons and one of them had lost his
right arm, and brought them back to the village.
"Where are they?" asked Forrester, when Sher Jang repeated this story to
him.
"In the _moshup_," the head-man replied, pointing to a spacious building
in the heart of the village. It was built on piles, the walls and the
sloping roof made of plantain leaves laid one upon another like the
tiles of a European house. There the affairs of the community were
discussed by day, and the unmarried men slept at night.
"Let me see them," said Forrester, hoping that by some strange
coincidence Captain Redfern's friend, having escaped from captivity, had
wandered in much the same direction.
The head-man besought the sahib not to be angry with him. The presence
of the strangers was a trouble to him, for he did not know what to do
with them. He could not speak their speech, and he was afraid. His
young men ought not to have laid hands on men who were clothed.
Forrester cut short his apologies, promising that he should suffer no
harm; whereupon the head-man sent a messenger to the building aforesaid,
to bring forth the prisoners.
The Englishmen awaited their coming with mingled hope and anxiety. By
and by two figures emerged from the building.
"Chinamen, by Jinks!" Jackson ejaculated.
Disappointed at the dashing of their hopes, the three were no longer
much interested in the Mishmis' prisoners, through whom their journey
was being delayed. But they could not help remarking a certain
strangeness in the Chinamen's manner of approach. They did not hasten
across the open space with the eager gait of men to whom had come sudden
deliverance from a terrible fate (for there was not much doubt that the
villagers would ultimately have solved their dilemma by adding the
Chinamen's heads to their collection). After leaving the _moshup_, and
perceiving the unmistakable forms of Englishmen in the distance, the two
men halted and appeared to consult together. Then they advanced slowly,
one before the other, in the manner of a shepherd driving a solitary
sheep.
The first comer was a young man, well grown, but curiously slack in his
gait and bearing. His head hung forward a little; his arms drooped
limply at his sides; and in his eyes, as he drew nearer, the Englishmen
discerned a languorous and sleepy expression. The second man presented a
striking contrast. His age was between fifty and sixty, but he was
upright as a dart; and his features, his eyes, his whole mien bespoke
energy and determination. The right sleeve of his coat was empty, and
lay pinned across his breast.
Escorted by a noisy crowd of the villagers, the Chinamen came up to the
Englishmen, and bowed in salutation. Then, before Forrester could utter
a word, the younger man began to speak in a breathless, jumpy fashion,
strangely unlike the stolidity which is usually associated with the
Chinese.
"We ask your assistance, gentlemen," he said in good English; only his
reedy tone, the usual difficulty with the letter "r," and a certain
formality of phrase proclaimed him a Chinaman. "Being accused of
sedition we were on our way from Yunan to Tibet with a small caravan;
but a week ago we were pursued by Government troops, and with difficulty
escaped, leaving our men and stores behind us."
This was uttered rapidly, as if he were repeating a lesson. At the end
of the sentence he glanced timidly at the elder man, who had stood the
while gazing unswervingly upon his companion. In his eyes there was a
hard, metallic glitter, under which the younger man appeared to droop.
Turning again to the Englishmen he went on:--
"Driven from our course by the presence of regular troops near the
frontier, we diverged to the south-west towards the borders of Assam.
But when we were making our way north-west again towards Tibet, we fell
into the hands of these people, and we thank you very much for rescuing
us from our terrible plight."
"That's all right," said Forrester, with the Englishman's usual anxiety
to avoid any display of feeling. "Does your friend speak English?"
"No," returned the man with a momentary energy. "I myself----"
He broke off suddenly, with a look of apprehension at his companion, who
had not spoken, but whose eyes had never left the young man's face.
Hurriedly he went on:--
"These people searched us, but did not find the little gold we carry,
and the bundle of notes they found have no value for them, though they
have not returned them to us. There is plenty of money to pay our way if
we are assured of safety, and we ask to be allowed to accompany you
until we can resume our journey."
"By all means," said Forrester. "I will get your notes back. I suggest
that you make a small present to the head-man, and he will no doubt let
you come with us without any bother."
A brief conversation ensued between Forrester and the head-man, through
Sher Jang. The notes were surrendered; a few coins were given to the
Mishmi; the Chinamen attached themselves to the Englishmen's party, and
the march was resumed.
"He talks fine," said Mackenzie to Forrester, "but there's something
fishy about yon Chinkies."
"The elder man has told the other not to give too much away, I think,"
said Forrester. "But they needn't be afraid of us. Political refugees
are safe with Englishmen."
"Man, maybe they're murderers," said Mackenzie.
"You had better look out then," replied Forrester, with a laugh.
"Anyway, there's a hang-dog look about the youngster," said Jackson.
"He's like a puppy afraid of a whipping."
More than once during the journey they tried to converse with the young
Chinaman, but failed to draw more than a word or two from him. The
elder man kept close to his side, and the Englishmen, finding that their
well-meant remarks tended only to increase the young man's painful
nervousness, gave up the attempt and left the Chinamen to themselves.
It was drawing towards sunset when they reached the plantation on which
Forrester was employed. The long march through the hot and humid air
had tired them all, and the condition of the sick man had become
alarming. With the planter's traditional hospitality, the manager, Mr.
Paterson, at once arranged to receive the captain in the bungalow he
shared with Forrester, and offered to accommodate the Chinamen for the
night in one of his godowns. At the instance of the elder man the
younger politely, but with evident reluctance, declined this offer,
preferring to push on to Dibrugarh, only a few miles away. The
Englishmen did not press them; they were anxious to have as soon as
possible the opinion of Dr. Malcolm, the medical officer of the gardens,
on the invalid's chances of recovery.
"Eh, man, it's a verra bad case," said the bluff Scots surgeon after
making his examination. "Malaria is bad enough, as ye know, but I would
not say but this is jungle fever. However, never say die; I'll do what
I can."
Early next morning Forrester rode over to Dibrugarh, and telegraphed to
a military friend of Mr. Paterson's in Calcutta, asking if anything was
known of Captain Redfern. The manager had advised this course in
preference to communicating with officials, as likely to avoid red tape
and save time. In a few hours the answer came:--
Redfern Captain Bengal Fusiliers on furlough exploring buried cities
Chinese Turkestan with Beresford archaeologist.
Forrester was not very strong in geography, but he knew that Chinese
Turkestan must be at least a thousand miles from Dibrugarh. What had
brought the explorers so far from the scene of their labours? The
pressing question, however, was the whereabouts of Beresford. Without
loss of time Forrester took the first train for Sadiya, the frontier
village where resided the Political Officer whose duty was to keep an
eye on the hill tribes.
"Your man is where he had no business to be," said that gentleman when
he had heard Forrester's scanty story. "He has been collared, I should
think, by the hillmen somewhere south of Tibet--quite beyond my
jurisdiction."
"Do you know anything of a waterfall a hundred miles or so north?" asked
Forrester.
"There are falls in plenty, no doubt," was the reply; "but the country
on the right bank of the Brahmaputra up there is practically unexplored.
Part of the course of the Brahmaputra itself is unknown."
"Before he became delirious Redfern talked of sending up a column to
rescue his friend."
"My dear fellow, he was talking through his hat. It's entirely out of
the question. The Government won't run the risk of provoking a general
rising of the hillmen whenever a roving explorer has come to grief in a
district where he has no earthly right to be. It would mean one of
those little frontier wars that cost no end of money and set the Labour
Members barking."
"But surely something ought to be done--can be done for an Englishman,"
Forrester persisted.
"I'll communicate with headquarters and let you know the result; but I
promise you it's no good. The country is a sort of no man's land.
Representations at Lhasa and at Pekin would be equally useless; China
and Tibet would both wash their hands of the matter. Besides,
Government wheels move slowly, the man would be done for before any move
could be made; he may be done for already. I'm sorry for him, but he
has only himself to blame."
Forrester went away very indignant at what he regarded as official
callousness, yet recognising the soundness of the Political Officer's
contention. He remembered the Abor expedition, in which a large
military force had been engaged for six months in making its way through
the jungle to exact retribution for the murder of two Englishmen.
Remembering, too, the uncertainty of Beresford's whereabouts, he was
forced to admit that the Government might reasonably hesitate to commit
themselves to an enterprise of which the end could not be foreseen.
When he returned to the plantation, and told his friends the results of
his journey, Jackson, who was excitable and quick-tempered, stamped up
and down the room, abusing Governments and Political Officers and
mankind generally. Mackenzie, on the other hand, sat placidly smoking
his pipe, silent and thoughtful. In the course of a few minutes, when
Jackson had blown off steam, the Scotsman said quietly:--
"Now ye've done blethering, Bob, listen to me. We'll do it ourselves."
"What?"
"Ay!"
"What do you mean, Mac?" asked Forrester.
"I'm telling you. A score or two of the Assam Light Horse----"
"Oh, rats!" cried Jackson, impatiently. "If the Government won't
undertake it, d'you suppose they'll let a lot of amateurs go careering
about? They'd expect to have to send a Field Force to bring us off.
It's absurd."
"Don't blow my head off. I've another proposition. I'm not particular
about my leave. Let the three of us see what we can do."
"D'you mean it, Mac?" cried Forrester.
"Ay!"