Samba Comes Back
As Jack had expected, Boloko was flattered by the invitation, with its
implied recognition of his importance. There is nothing a negro likes
better than an opportunity for talk, and Boloko declared himself quite
ready to meet the Inglesa. But he would not venture into the camp; the
meeting must take place outside. The objection, considering the
thinly-veiled hostility of the two parties, was not unreasonable. Jack
gave up the idea of a banquet, and, about eight o'clock in the morning,
went with Barney and Lepoko to the site of his original camp, where he
found Boloko and half a dozen of his men already assembled.
It is of the essence of a palaver to be deliberate, not to say
long-winded, and Jack followed the advice of Lepoko in passing many
compliments and talking about a great variety of matters before he came
to the point. Then, however, he made the point perfectly clear. He
spoke of what he had learnt of the forest guards' behaviour in the
village, and of Bomolo's outrage in particular.
"You must know," he concluded, "that it is against the law of the land
to injure or assault the people. Your duty is to see that they do not
destroy the vines by improper cutting, and that they go regularly into
the forest. You have no right to ill-use them."
"The white man speaks very wisely; he knows much more than Boloko.
Boloko knows nothing of law or right; he does what is the custom."
"But you know, my friend, it is a wrong custom."
"It may be as the white man says, but the Inglesa is not my master. My
master is Elobela. Let the Inglesa complain to Elobela. As for right,
what right has the Inglesa to interfere? He is a stranger; he is not a
servant of the Great White Chief."
"I am indeed a stranger; I am not a servant of the Great White Chief.
But the Great Spirit who made the world and all men bids me speak if I
see wrong done."
Boloko broke out in insolent laughter, and said something to his men
which Lepoko refused to translate.
"Him say berrah nasty fing 'bout massa; me no can tell massa."
Jack saw that it was time to bring the interview to a close. There was
no coping with insolence.
"Very well," he said sternly. "It will be my duty to report at Boma
what I have seen and heard in the village. And more, Boloko; I shall
lay a complaint against you for attempting to cut loose our canoes, and
for conducting an attack by night upon our camp."
Boloko looked startled and began to bluster when this was translated to
him. But it was evident that this manner was assumed as a cloak to a
real uneasiness. The moment Lepoko had concluded, Jack walked away
from the meeting, and as he returned to his own quarters he heard the
guards discussing in excited and vehement tones what he had said. For
all his bluster, Boloko had been impressed. For a few days Jack heard
of no overt acts of violence. Imbono's gratitude for the intervention
was almost overwhelming. He heaped praise and compliments upon his
brother Lokolobolo, and, not content with words, made him a valuable
present. Half a dozen of his men staggered to Jack's hut one night
under the weight of a huge tusk of ivory, which Imbono had kept since
the time when elephant-hunting was a profitable occupation.
Two days after the palaver a canoe arrived with another dozen Mauser
rifles and ammunition from Mr. Martindale. The head paddler was
cautious enough to send one of his men in advance to the camp to
announce his arrival, and Jack managed to get the rifles brought
secretly within his stockade under cover of night. It was just as
well, he thought, to keep Boloko in ignorance of this new acquisition
of strength.
The man reported that he had been despatched from Irebo by an Inglesa
who had entrusted him with a bonkanda[1] for the young Inglesa. Jack
opened the note eagerly. This time it was very short:--
DEAR JACK,--
All going well. Have been delayed by little investigating trips I have
made in the concessions of the Abir Trust and the Domaine de la
Couronne. Atrocities even worse than I thought. Hope all well with
you. Patience--and tact.
J.M.
P.S.--I am sending a dozen rifles and some ammunition; can't get any
more.
The paddler said that he had had great difficulty in eluding the white
men and their agents. Only a few days before, he and his companions
had almost run into a white man who was coming up the river in a
smoke-boat, establishing new outposts for the collection of rubber. No
doubt an outpost would be established at Ilola; for Imbono was the
chief of several villages and had many young men.
This news gave Jack no little uneasiness. Instinctively he felt that
the difficulties arising from Boloko's presence would be increased by
the arrival of his Belgian superior. For after what he had learnt from
his uncle he could not doubt that the tyranny of the forest guards was
practised at least with the connivance, if not by the actual authority,
of the officials. As a precaution he took care to have men constantly
on the look-out at the river bank for the approach of strange boats,
and when one day Elbel's launch was sighted, he withdrew all his men
within the stockade and posted double sentries. He felt pretty sure
that the white man in command was Monsieur Elbel, the man with whom Mr.
Martindale had already had a brush; and of Elbel he had a profound
mistrust, formed at first sight and accentuated by all that he had
subsequently heard.
Boloko and his satellites went in a crowd to the bank of the river to
greet the new arrivals. From behind his stockade Jack watched them
through his field-glass as they landed from the launch and set off for
the village. The white man was certainly Elbel. He was accompanied by
a number of forest guards armed like Boloko's, and by a crowd of
hangers-on--negroes of many varieties. On the way up to the village
Boloko walked by Elbel's side, talking very earnestly, and Jack saw the
Belgian throw a keen and inquisitive glance in the direction of his
camp.
Not an hour afterwards Elbel left the village and walked over to Jack's
settlement, which the natives had named Ilombikambua, "house of the
dog," in reference to Pat the terrier. Jack had given orders that the
white man was to be admitted if he came, but no black man in his
company. The Belgian had come alone, and looked a little surprised
when the sentries at the gate received him with a correct military
salute. Jack rose from his stool in front of his hut and doffed his
hat courteously. Outwardly he was calm enough; but he felt by no means
easy in mind, realizing that his responsibility was far from being the
"jolly lark" he had light-heartedly called it when Mr. Martindale
announced his intention of leaving him in charge.
"Good morning, sir," said the Belgian in his foreign accent.
"Good morning. I think I have the pleasure of addressing Monsieur
Elbel?"
"Dat is my name. I do not know your name."
"John Challoner."
"Yes, I believe I see you before in a canoe."
"When I was coming up the river with my uncle."
"Who is now returned to Boma. Yes, I heard of dat. Mr. Martindale--I
zink dat is de name--have found de gold he sought?"
"I am not at liberty to discuss Mr. Martindale's business."
"Exactly. I see. Ve must not be indiscreet, hein? Now as for your
Mr. Martindale, I am not pleased, I say at vunce. I am not pleased viz
Mr. Martindale. He refuse to give me up de black boy dat vas in your
canoe. Dat vas against de law: it is not permitted in de Congo State
for de natives to leave deir village."
"But if the village no longer exists, Mr. Elbel?"
The Belgian shrugged.
"Dat make no difference! But I have more to say. I have learn dat
your men have rifles; I see dem myself; dey even hold deir rifles at de
salute, dey have military training, hein? Now it is not permitted to
have rifles in de Congo State: dey are vat you call contraband. I muss
ask you to be so kind and give de rifles to me."
"I am afraid I can't oblige you, Mr. Elbel. The rifles belong to my
uncle."
"Dat make no difference! I find de rifles here: I muss ask you in de
name of de Free State to give dem up."
"I don't know that you have any right to speak in the name of the Congo
State. I believe, sir, you are an official of the Societe Cosmopolite
du Commerce du Congo--a private trust. I can't recognize your
authority, Mr. Elbel."
"But it is de law."
"If you talk of law! ... are your practices legal, Mr. Elbel? Is it
legal to shoot and maim the natives as you have been doing for a
hundred miles and more along the river? Is it legal to incite a night
attack on peaceable travellers?" (Here Elbel could not suppress a
start, and looked far from comfortable.) "But whether I am acting
legally or not, I cannot recognize your authority. If you want the
rifles, I must ask you to wait until Mr. Martindale's return and demand
them from him. Until then they are in my charge, and I cannot give
them up."
Jack thought afterwards that he might have spoken a little less
bluntly; but he wished to put an end to a disagreeable interview. His
firmness made the Belgian angry.
"Ver' vell, ver' vell!" he said, flushing with annoyance. "You vill
suffer for dis. You not recognize my right: vell, Capitaine Van Vorst,
an officer of de State, comes up de river; he have right; and I say,
Mr. Chon Shalloner, you shall be arrest and made to pay heavy
amende--if not put in prison."
Jack's bow was a courteous intimation that the interview was ended.
But the Belgian caught the flicker of a smile on his face, and flung
away in a rage which he made no attempt to disguise. Jack's sentries,
who again brought their rifles to the salute, shrank back before
Elbel's scowl as he passed out of the gate.
Jack was not ill-pleased with the result of the interview. You have
always scored a point when the enemy loses his temper. Apparently
Elbel did not intend to take strong measures himself. He knew the
weakness of his position. The situation would be changed if a State
officer was indeed on his way up the river: but Jack did not allow
himself to be disturbed by Elbel's threat; his uncle would doubtless be
back in a few days, and he had unbounded faith in Mr. Martindale's
judgment and discretion.
From that time he took care that either Barney or himself should be
always in the stockaded camp. His men had become a well-disciplined
force, but he could not answer for their being able to act discreetly
towards a white man whom they had reason to dread.
For a day or two there was no sign of hostility from Elbel. He did not
repeat his visit, which Jack did not feel called upon to return. But
news came from Ilola that, while the Belgian's arrival had checked the
ghastly ferocities of the forest guards, the chicotte had been still
more freely in play than before. Every man whose basket did not
contain the requisite five kilos of rubber, or the quality of whose
rubber did not approve itself to Elbel, was unmercifully flogged.
Those with whom no fault could on any pretext be found were paid with
perhaps a piece of cloth or some trumpery article which was useless to
them, and which in many cases they threw away.
Imbono sent word one day that the most distant of his villages had been
burnt. It contained a hundred adult male inhabitants, but only fifty
had brought rubber to Ilola, the remainder having been engaged in
hunting down a herd of elephants which had been ravaging their crops.
Elbel had refused to accept the explanation. He had retained the fifty
men as hostages, and sent a detachment of his forest guards to bring in
the unruly fifty and burn their village down. Jack could only express
his sympathy: he felt that there was nothing to be done.
One morning Barney, who acted as storekeeper to the camp, reported that
food was running short.
"Well, Imbono will supply us," replied Jack.
"Beggin' your pardon, sorr, Imbono has little enough for himself since
Elbel and his blagyards came to the place. The thieving villains will
have the best, and divil a ha'penny do they pay for it."
"We must have food. When I was at Akumbi the other day I saw a good
crop of ground-nuts. I'll go over myself and see if I can arrange for
a supply."
Akumbi was the smallest of the chief's villages, situated about five
miles up the river. Jack set off early with Lepoko, taking the
well-worn path through the fringe of forest. As he approached the
village he heard cries of pain. Instinctively he quickened his steps
and hurried through the gateway in the stockade; then he came upon a
scene that made his blood boil. Tied to a tree was a youth, who,
Lepoko told him, was the son of Lofundo, the sub-chief of the village.
Elbel was thrashing the captive with the chicotte, every lash cutting
into the quivering flesh and provoking shrieks of agony. Not another
villager was to be seen; all had fled either into their huts or into
the forest.
Infuriated at the sight, Jack forgot all counsels of prudence. He
rushed towards the spot, peremptorily calling on Elbel to desist. The
Belgian swung round savagely, gave one disdainful look at the
interrupter, and raised his arm with the intention of putting all his
force into another stroke. But Jack sprang at the uplifted arm, caught
Elbel by the wrist and arrested the blow. Wrenching himself free, the
Belgian, livid with rage, made a fierce cut at Jack. He was too near
for the long lash to have the full effect intended; but Jack felt the
sting as the flexible thong curled round him. Then his attitude
changed. Before, he had merely been conscious of a desire to protect
the negro; now, he was afire with a personal grievance. Elbel had not
time to raise the whip for a second stroke. Flinging out his left fist
Jack caught him a smashing blow on the cheek, and followed it up with a
right-hander which hurled him half senseless to the ground. Elbel
staggered to his feet, presenting a piteous spectacle, blood streaming
from his nose, his left eye half closed. He groped for his revolver,
but the sight of Jack standing over him, pale but determined, revolver
in hand ready for the next move, cowed him. He fumbled for a few
seconds at his belt, then slunk away without a word.
[Illustration: Jack turns the tables]
The village compound was immediately filled with a crowd of natives,
who poured out of the huts: whence they had secretly watched the scene.
Jack was overwhelmed with protestations of gratitude. He cut the boy
loose and restored him, bleeding from the lash, to his father. Then he
extricated himself from the excited throng, took Lofundo aside, waived
his demonstrations, and, completing the business on which he had come,
left the village as soon as he could. Now that the heat of the moment
was passed, he feared he had not done the villagers or himself any
good. A personal affray with Elbel was the last thing he would have
desired; and though he felt that he could hardly have acted otherwise
than he had done, he was in anything but an elated mood when he
returned to his camp.
He at once told Barney of what had occurred, and spoke of his
misgivings.
"Arrah thin, sorr," said the Irishman, "I do not see any cause for
disthress at all at all. The villain got his deserts, and 'twill tache
him a lesson. Sure I'd like to have seen his face, the spalpeen!"
"But I'd no right to interfere, Barney; you can't get over that."
"Begging your pardon, sorr, I do not agree wid that at all. Ye may say
a father has the right to thrash his children; 'twas the holy Solomon
himself said so! But if he lays it on too heavy, the law steps in and
says 'Hands off!' A farmer has a right to get work out uv his horse;
but if he overtaxes the poor baste, the law steps in again and says 'No
more uv that.' These poor niggers seem to have to work widout fair
pay, and pay rent into the bargain. That's more than an Irishman would
stand; and when the nigger-driver begins to maul 'em as well, worse
than poor dumb beasts widout souls uv their own--be jabers! sorr, what
would I do, if I saw a man ill-treating my Pat? I would knock him
down, sorr, if he was the Lord-Liftinant himself!"
The fact that several days passed without any sign of resentment or
vengeance on Elbel's part did not make Jack less uneasy. So far from
his trouncing having a deterrent effect, the treatment of the natives
became steadily worse. Things were following the inevitable course.
The vines in the neighbourhood of the village had yielded all the
rubber of which they were at present capable, and the men had to go
continually further afield. This necessitated their remaining for days
at a time away from their homes, in improvised shelters which afforded
poor protection against the weather and the wild beasts. They had to
put up with indifferent food that gave scanty nourishment. When,
having collected the rubber, they returned at last to their homes, they
could only remain there a couple of days, for the next demand was upon
them. Meanwhile their families had been at the mercy of the forest
guards. Day by day complaints came to Jack from Imbono of the
brutalities of these ruffians, some of them so horrible that his whole
being quivered with passionate indignation. Why did not his uncle
return? How long must he remain helpless here, unable to lift a hand
in defence of the oppressed?
One evening, just as he had retired to rest, he was woke by Barney and
told that a strange negro had come to the gate and asked admittance.
He had specially desired to see the Inglesa. Jack sent word that the
man was to be brought to him, and awaited his coming outside the hut.
The negro came up in charge of Lepoko. By the light of his electric
torch Jack saw a tall man, so much emaciated that he appeared almost a
skeleton. His cheeks were sunken in, his arms and legs were no thicker
than a child's, and--what was this! The man held up one arm; the hand
was gone!
"Who is he?" asked Jack, shuddering at the sight of the half-healed
stump.
"Him call Batukuno, sah. Come from Nsongo. Him carry baumba[2] to
brudder, sah: Ekila, him forest guard, meet Batukuno, say, 'Gib me
baumba.' Batukuno say, 'No can do: me carry to brudder.' Rubber day
come. Batukuno bring basket; Ekila say, 'Rubber too much bad,
Batukuno.' Batukuno say, 'No bad at all; good rubber all same.' Ekila
laugh, sah; cut off Batukuno him hand."
"Just in revenge for not getting the baumba?"
"Rebenge, sah, rebenge, all same."
"But how came he here?"
"Boy Samba, sah. Him tell Batukuno Inglesa massa good white man,
brudder Tanalay, oh yes! Inglesa no 'fraid Boloko, no 'fraid Elobela;
Inglesa gib Batukuno hut, gib food, gib plenty rings. Him come long
long way: hurt berrah much, sah, berrah sick; want eat, no can find
nuff. Him hide long time 'cos 'fraid Boloko. Now hab got massa; no
'fraid no more; Boloko, Elobela, dem 'fraid now."
"Where is Samba then?"
"Samba him long long way: him go find fader and mudder."
"I was right after all," said Jack turning to Barney. "I'm glad to
hear the boy's alive. Well, Lepoko, take Batukuno to one of the huts
and give him some supper. Another sign of King Leopold's fatherly
treatment, Barney! Uncle said they cut the hands from the dead, but it
appears that the living are mutilated too."
"The curse uv Cromwell on them, sorr. But, begging your pardon, you
made a mistake."
"How's that?"
"Sure you said 'twas my Irish English that sent little Samba away."
"Did I?" said Jack, laughing. "I'd forgotten it. He's a capital
little fellow, Barney. Fancy, going by himself that long journey
through the forest to find his people! And yet there are fools who
think that because a man is black he hasn't feelings or affections like
ourselves."
Batukuno was only the firstfruits of Samba's missionary zeal. From day
to day, men, women, and children began to drop in at Jack's camp, many
of them mutilated, all showing terrible signs of ill-usage and
privation. Some were survivors of Samba's own people, the villagers of
Banonga; but they numbered among them men from other tribes. Some had
heard of the benevolent Inglesa from Samba's own lips; others from
people he had told. Among them was an old chief, who appeared
heart-broken at having been compelled to leave his country.
"Why did I leave, you ask, O white man!" he said in reply to a question
of Jack's. "In the morning, bullets; in the evening, bullets. They
shot our mouths away, they shot through our hearts and our sides. They
robbed us of everything we had. Why should we stay to be killed like
that? That is why I ran away."
"Were many of your people killed?"
"Ah, ah!" he replied, "once we were as bafumba[3] in multitude; now we
are only as these."
He spread out his fingers twice or thrice.
"And they have been killed--not dying by the sleeping sickness?"
"No. We have lost a few by the sleeping sickness, but only a few. It
is rubber that has killed our people. Botofe bo le iwa!"
Jack's sympathy was keenly enlisted on behalf of these unfortunate
people; and he looked forward more and more eagerly for Mr.
Martindale's return. He could not but smile a little whimsically,
remembering his uncle's protestations, to find that Mr. Martindale was
gaining a reputation for general philanthropy through a large section
of the Upper Congo territory. But as the stream of fugitives showed no
signs of diminishing he began to feel a certain embarrassment. It was
all very well to open a cave Adullam for every one that was distressed:
to start a hospital for the halt and lame and blind; but the space he
had at command within his stockade was limited: already the huts he had
reserved for Mr. Martindale and his men were occupied, and every
fugitive meant another mouth to feed. He feared, too, lest the peace
and order of his settlement should be disturbed by the influx of so
many idle strangers. And more than all, he feared that some of the
poor wretches who came seeking asylum with him would fall into the
hands of Elbel ere they reached their desired haven. It was that
consideration that induced him to refuse none who sought admittance.
Elbel had been absent for some days from Ilola, and the fugitives, by
choosing always the fall of night to approach the place, had so far
managed to elude observation by their enemies. But that could not
continue; the presence of strangers in Ilombikambua must soon become
known to Elbel; then a watch would be set, and the wanderers would be
intercepted. What their fate then would be Jack knew too well. None
suffered so terribly at the hands of the forest guards as people caught
straying from their villages. Such absences interfered with the
regularity of the rubber supply, which in turn affected the revenue and
reduced profits. No runagate serf in mediaeval Europe was more severely
dealt with than the Congo native who dared to range afield.
Jack could not hand the people over to Elbel's tender mercies; yet it
would soon be impossible to find room for more. While he was puzzling
how to deal with this perplexing situation it was suddenly made still
more complicated. Early one morning he heard Pat barking with more
than his usual vigour, and with a note of wild pleasure which he had
not expressed for many a day. Leaving his hut to ask what had
happened, he was met by the terrier, who ran up to him, leaped this way
and that, darted off towards the gate, then back again, all the time
barking with frantic joy. In a moment Jack saw the meaning of the
dog's excitement. Samba himself was running towards him!
The boy flung himself down at Jack's feet, paying no attention even to
Pat.
"I am glad to see you, very glad," said Jack in Samba's own tongue.
"What have you been doing?"
His knowledge of the language was not great enough to permit him to
follow Samba's answer, poured out as it was with great rapidity, and a
pitiful earnestness that brought a lump to Jack's throat. But Lepoko
was at hand, and translated faithfully.
Samba was in terrible distress. He had found his father and mother,
and had brought them through peril and privation to the very verge of
safety, when they fell among a number of forest guards evidently placed
to intercept fugitives. All three were captured and taken to Boloko,
who was beside himself with delight at the sight of his brother Mboyo a
prisoner. He had a special grudge against him, dating from their old
rivalry in Banonga. Elbel had just returned from a visit to outlying
villages; the prisoners had been carried before him, and when Boloko
explained who they were, the Belgian ordered them to be tied up, and
sentenced them to be thrashed publicly on the next day. Samba had
contrived to escape from custody, and had now come to implore the
Inglesa to save his parents. They were so worn out by their long
journey, so ill from the hardships they had suffered, that they would
certainly die under the whip.
"Poor little fellow!" said Jack, laying his hand soothingly on the
boy's head. "The whipping is to be to-morrow? You are sure?"
Yes; Elobela would be absent this day; he would not return till the
evening. The flogging was fixed for dawn on the following morning.
"Come into my hut; we will see what can be done. Barney, you come too."
"Niggers have no feelings!" said Barney, releasing Pat from the grasp
in which he had been struggling while Samba told his story. "Begorra!
they might as well say the same uv dogs!"
[1] Any kind of letter or document.
[2] Riches.
[3] Driver ants.