Blood Brothers
But in the morning the situation appeared only more grave. Provisions
were threatening to run short. Hitherto there had been no difficulty
in procuring food from the natives met _en route_, and Mr. Martindale's
party had carried with them only a few days' provisions, and the
"extras" necessary for the white men's comfort. But now they were come
to a less populous part of the country: Imbono's villages were the only
settlements for many miles around; and unless Imbono relaxed the rigour
of his boycott Mr. Martindale's party would soon be in want.
Mr. Martindale was talking over matters with Jack when, from the slight
eminence on which the camp was pitched, they saw a canoe, manned by six
paddlers, pass up stream. Jack took a look at the craft through his
field glass.
"It's Imbono, uncle," he said; "I wonder what he is up to."
He followed the progress of the canoe for some distance through the
glass; then, looking ahead, his eye was caught by a herd of eight or
nine hippopotami disporting themselves on a reedy flat by the river
bank.
"What do you say, uncle? Shall we go and get some hippo meat? It will
relieve the drain on our stores, and Nando told me the men are rather
fond of it."
"We'll go right away, Jack. We must keep the larder full at any rate.
I suppose we shall have to stalk the beasts."
"I don't think so, uncle. Those we saw as we came up seemed pretty
bold; they've such tough hides that they've no reason to be much afraid
of the native weapons."
"Well, we'll paddle up to them and see how we get on."
A canoe was launched, and Mr. Martindale set off with Jack, Barney, and
the terrier, Nando and six of the men paddling. By the time they
arrived opposite the feeding ground several hippos had come out from
the reeds for a bath in the shallows of the river, only their heads and
backs showing above the water. The rest had moved off into the thicker
reeds and were hidden from sight.
"One will be enough for the present," said Mr. Martindale. "Our
fellows are great gluttons, but there's enough meat in one of those
beasts to last even them a couple of days; and we don't want it to go
high!"
"Let us both aim at the nearest," suggested Jack. "Fire together,
uncle: bet you I bag him."
"I guess I won't take you, and betting's a fool's trick anyway. We'll
aim at the nearest, as you say; are you ready?"
Two shots rang out as one. But apparently there had been a difference
of opinion as to which of the animals was the nearest. One of them
disappeared; another, with a wild roar of pain and rage, plunged into
the reeds; the rest sank below the surface. Nando, knowing the ways of
hippopotami, began to paddle with frantic vigour, and set the canoe
going at a rapid pace down stream, much to the indignation of Pat, who
stood with his forefeet on the side of the canoe, barking fiercely.
Half a minute later a head appeared above the surface some fifty yards
behind; then another and another: but the beasts seemed to have
recovered from the alarm, for after a long cow-like stare at the
receding canoe, they turned and swam ashore, to rejoin their companions
in the reeds.
"Easy all!" said Mr. Martindale. "We'll give 'em a quarter of an hour
to settle down, then we'll go back. What about your bet, eh, Jack?"
"It's your hippo, uncle, no doubt of that," said Jack with a rueful
smile. "An awful fluke, though; you didn't hit once to my twice coming
up stream."
"A fluke, was it? I kind o' notice that when you young fellows make a
good shot or pull off a good stroke at billiards or anything else, it's
real good play; whereas an old boy like me can only do anything decent
by a fluke."
"Well, you've lost him, anyway. The hippo hasn't come up."
"Too cocksure, my boy; he's only just below the surface."
The beast mortally wounded by Mr. Martindale's rifle was lying in
shallow water. Pat could no longer restrain himself. He leapt
overboard and swam towards the hippo, barking with excitement, and
becoming frantic when he found that it was just out of his reach. In
his eagerness to attack the animal he even made an attempt to dive, so
comical that all on board the canoe were convulsed with laughter.
Being paddled to the spot, Mr. Martindale found that the beast was
quite dead.
"Now what are we to do with him?" said Mr. Martindale. "Shall we go
back and send a party to cut him up?"
"No, no, sah," said Nando instantly. "Tie rope; pull, pull; hippo he
come 'long all behind."
"Tow him, eh? Very well. I allow that'll save time."
A rope was fastened firmly about the beast's neck and jaws; the other
end was fixed to the canoe; and the men began to paddle down stream,
towing the hippo. The tendency of the animal being to sink, the canoe
seemed to Jack to be dangerously low in the water at the stern. But
they had only a part of the usual complement of men on board, and the
paddlers were among the most skilful on the Congo. They had gone but a
few strokes when Jack, glancing back, caught sight of Imbono's canoe
returning. Like Mr. Martindale's it was keeping fairly close to the
bank. All at once a great shout of alarm broke from the chief's
paddlers; their easy swing was quickened to desperate exertion, and
they pulled out violently towards the middle of the stream.
"By Jove! uncle, a hippo's after them," cried Jack.
Just astern of the chief's canoe, between it and the shore, a huge
hippopotamus, with jaws distended, showing his gleaming tusks, was
swimming along in pursuit. For a little he gained, and Jack's pulse
beat more quickly with excitement as he saw that the enraged beast was
not more than half a dozen yards from the canoe. But the gap widened
as soon as the six strong paddlers had settled down to their quickened
stroke.
Imbono, sitting in the stern, had caught sight of the white men as his
canoe cut for a few moments across the current, and with the natural
vanity of the negro he began to show off. At a word from him one of
the crew dropped his paddle, and, catching up a spear, hurled it at the
pursuing hippo. There was a hoarse bellow from the animal, and a wild
cheer from the men; the shaft of the spear was seen standing almost
perpendicularly above the hippo's shoulder. With fierce exertion the
beast increased his pace, and the gap momentarily diminished; but the
negro resumed his paddle, and again the canoe drew away.
As the canoe came almost level with the towed hippo at a considerable
distance towards mid-stream, Imbono ordered the same manoeuvre to be
repeated. But fortune doubly befriended the pursuing animal. Just as
the negro was poising his spear, a submerged tree stopped the canoe
with a sudden jerk; the man lost his balance and fell overboard; half
of the crew followed him into the water, the rest tumbled over one
another into the bottom of the canoe. Imbono had been thrown backward
as the vessel struck the snag. He had barely time to rise and plunge
into the water when there was a hideous crackling sound; the stern of
the canoe was caught between the hippo's gaping jaws and crunched to
splinters.
The consequences of the chief's temerity would have been amusing but
for his manifest danger. The negroes were swimming in all directions,
keeping as much as possible under water to escape the eyes of the
hippo; but Imbono, an older man than the rest, was not so expert a
swimmer, and Jack saw with concern that the hippo, leaving the sinking
canoe, was making straight for the chief.
A hippopotamus may be distanced by a canoe, but not by a man swimming.
Imbono did not look behind, but seemed to know instinctively that death
was within a few yards of him, and he struck out more and more
desperately for the bank.
At the moment when the canoe struck the snag, Jack had seized his
rifle; but after the catastrophe, canoe, hippo, and swimming natives
were so intermingled that he could not venture a shot at the beast
without the risk of hitting a man. The hippo's huge body provided a
target sufficiently broad, indeed; but Jack knew that to strike it
anywhere save at a vital spot would merely add to the beast's rage and
make it doubly formidable to the men in the water. When he saw the
plight of the chief, however, the great head now only a couple of yards
behind him, the jaws already opening, disclosing the vast red chasm
flanked by gleaming tusks and molars--when Jack saw Imbono thus in the
very article of peril, he could no longer hesitate. The canoe was
already at rest. Bidding Nando keep it steady, Jack raised his rifle
to his shoulder and took careful aim.
The chief was gasping for breath after a vain attempt to dodge the
beast by diving; the horrid jaws were just about to snap, when a shot
rang out. A squealing grunt came from the closing gullet; the uncouth
actions of the beast ceased; and he began to sink slowly and silently
beneath the surface.
"A1!" ejaculated Mr. Martindale. "That makes up for your miss, Jack."
"Oka moe!"[1] shouted the negroes. Imbono's men had gained the bank,
but the chief himself, overcome more by his fright than his exertions,
seemed unable to swim any farther.
"Quick, haul him in, Jack," said Mr. Martindale. "There may be a
crocodile after him next!"
A few strokes of the paddles brought the canoe within reach of the
chief. Laughing heartily--the negro's laugh is always very near the
surface--Nando and a comrade hoisted Imbono into the canoe.
"Me tell Imbono he oughter die of shame," said Nando gravely.
"What on earth for?" asked Mr. Martindale.
"What for, sah! Has he not made big puddle in massa's canoe? He
plenty much wet, sah."
"Well, he couldn't help that. Tell him we're glad he came off so well.
You need not say anything about the puddle."
But Nando had his own views as to the proper thing to do. As he spoke
the chief glanced at the pool of water that had flowed from his body,
and replied in a tone that was clearly apologetic.
"He say he die with shame him so wet, sah," said Nando. "Him no do it
no more. Say he praise de young Inglesa for shooting de hippo; say he
gib massa de hippo and manioc and bananas and anyfing whatever dat
massa like. Say he want massa and young massa to be blood brudder. Me
say berrah good; tell him oughter had sense before."
"That's all right. We'll accept supplies with pleasure, and pay for
them. The hippo is Mr. Jack's already, of course. As for becoming his
blood brothers, I don't just know right off what that means; but if
it'll please him, and doesn't mean any nastiness, we'll think it over."
The canoe, towing Mr. Martindale's hippo, was rapidly paddled down
stream to the encampment, the second beast being left to drift slowly
down the river until, in the course of some hours, it should finally
rise to the surface. On landing the chief renewed his protestations of
gratitude, then went off to the village, to polish himself up, said
Nando, and replace his ruined headdress, a curious structure of cloth
and feathers stuck on to the chignon into which his hair was gathered.
Mr. Martindale sent back another canoe to find and tow down the dead
hippo. When it was hauled up on the low sandy bank, Jack and his uncle
went down to examine it.
"You said I missed, uncle," cried Jack. "What do you make of this?"
He pointed to a furrow ploughed across the full breadth of the beast's
forehead.
"Nothing but a bullet did that, I know. My shot must have hit him, but
didn't enter the skull. I suppose he hid in the reeds, and vented his
fury on the chief. He happened to have a harder skull than your hippo,
uncle; you see it was a fluke after all."
Mr. Martindale slowly cut and lighted a cigar. Not until he had
watched a big cloud of smoke float across the river did he speak. Then
he said quietly--
"Just so!"
Somehow Jack felt that he had not the better of the argument.
Before the sun went down, a group of men came from Ilola staggering
under loads of grain and fruit, a quantity large enough to supply the
camp for several days. That night the men had a royal feast, consuming
so many hippo steaks that Barney professed himself indignant.
"Bedad! 'tis greedy scoundhrels they are," he said, "Wheniver me mother
gave us bhoys a stew--and 'twas not often, ye may be sure, meat being
the price it was--'twas wan tiny morsel uv mutton, and a powerful lot
uv murphies: she said too much meat would spoil our complexion and ruin
our tempers. And begorra! isn't it meself that proves it!"
Mr. Martindale laughed at Barney's logic.
"I'm not afraid of the niggers' complexions or their tempers," he said;
"I only hope they won't keep up that hullabaloo all night and spoil our
sleep."
The men were indeed very uproarious, and remained around their fires
for the greater part of the night, recounting for the hundredth time
the exciting events of the day, and composing on the spot songs in
praise of the young white man whose fire-stick had slain the terror of
the river. One of these songs seemed especially to strike their fancy,
and it remained a favourite for many days:--
Happy Imbono!
Oh! oh! Imbono!
Who saved Imbono?
The good stranger!
The young stranger!
The brave stranger!
Good Jacko!
Young Jacko!
Brave Jacko!
He came to Ilola!
Happy Ilola!
Lucky Ilola!
He saved Imbono
From five hippos,
From ten hippos!
Lucky Imbono!
Happy Imbono!
Oh! oh! Imbono!
Next morning, as soon as it was light, Imbono came to pay a visit of
ceremony. He had got himself up most elaborately for the occasion. A
strip of yellow cotton was wound about his waist. His arms were
covered with polished brass rings, and copper rings weighing at least
ten pounds each encircled his wrists and ankles. A new headdress
decked his hair; and he must have kept his barber busy half the night
in arranging his top-knot and painting his face with red camwood and
white clay. Pat by no means approved of the change, and barked at him
furiously.
"Whisht, ye spalpeen!" said Barney, calling off the excited dog. "Sure
'tis only his Sunday clothes!"
Surrounded by a group of his young men, who were again loaded with
offerings of food, the chief began a long speech, which was by no means
abridged in Nando's translation. He related the incident of the
previous day, omitting none of the most insignificant details,
accounting, as it appeared, for every tooth in the jaws of the huge
animal from which he had been saved. He went on to say that in
gratitude to the white man he had changed his mind. No longer would he
withhold food; his young men even now had their hands full of the best
products of Ilola. No longer would he refuse his friendship; he would
even show the white man the place where the yellow metal was to be
found--on one condition, that the white man would become his blood
brother. Imbono and the white men would then be friends for ever.
"Well, I'll be very glad to be friends with the chief," said Mr.
Martindale, "and I'm right down obliged to him for agreeing to show me
the location of the gold. And what's this blood brother business
anyway? I don't size up to that without knowing something about it,
you bet."
"Me tell all 'bout it, sah. Imbono hab got knife; he come scratch,
scratch massa his arm; den blood come, just little tiny drop, oh yes!
Den Imbono he lick massa him blood. Massa he hab got knife too: he
scratch Imbono him arm all same, lick Imbono him blood. Me fink massa
not like black man him blood--not berrah berrah much. Den massa gib
Imbono little tiny present--knife, like knife Samba stole from Nando;
Imbono gib massa fowl, or brass ring, or anyfing massa like. Den massa
and Imbono dey be blood brudder, be friends for eber and eber amen."
"Well, I guess the blood business sounds rather disgusting. What do
you think, Jack?"
Jack made a grimace.
"Couldn't we leave all the licking to him, uncle?"
Here Nando broke in. "Me fink massa not like black blood. All same, I
show de way. Massa hold Imbono him arm tight, berrah tight, pretend to
lick, get little drop of blood on hand; dat nuff; Imbono pleased."
"If he's satisfied with that I'm willing, so fire away."
The chief beamed when he learnt that the white man had given his
consent. The ceremony was quickly performed. Then Imbono handed them
each a copper ring, and received in return a pinch of salt from Mr.
Martindale and a lucifer match from Jack, Nando assuring them that no
more acceptable presents could have been thought of. Imbono recited a
sort of chant, which was explained to mean that he, his sons, his
friends, the men of Ilola, from that time forth and for evermore would
be the true friends of the white men; everything he had was theirs.
With a suitable reply from Mr. Martindale and Jack the ceremony ended.
Jack noticed when the chief had gone that Nando's face wore a somewhat
woebegone look.
"What's the matter, Nando?" he asked.
"Nando berrah sick, sah. Imbono hab got present, massa hab got
present, little massa hab got present all same; Nando hab got no
present, no nuffin. Dat make Nando sick. Samba hab got Nando him
knife: what for Nando no hab nuffin at all?"
"Seems to me he wants a commission on the transaction," said Mr.
Martindale with a smile. "Give him something, Jack; he's not a bad
sort."
"I've got a lucky sixpence, uncle; he can string that round his neck.
Here you are, Nando."
The negro took the coin with delight.
"Bolotsi O!" he exclaimed. "Nando no sick no more. Him plenty comfy
inside. All jolly nice now sah: oh yes!"
[1] Bully for you!