A Message and a Meeting
Ilombekabasi had peace. Elbel was sufficiently occupied for a couple
of days in constructing a third camp, which he placed still further
eastward in the direction of Ilola, but still between Jack and the main
river. And even when the camp was completed he gave no sign of further
operations. Jack was forced to conclude that his enemy was tired of
his continual failures, and would now wait inactive until
reinforcements reached him.
One afternoon, about a week after the flooding of the camp, a negro was
seen running up the gully. Shots rang out in the distance, and far
down the gully appeared a band of Elbel's men, who relinquished the
pursuit of the runner on coming within sight of the fort. The man
scampered up to the hole in the stockade. He was unarmed save for the
universal dagger. He cried out to be admitted; he had a message for
the Inglesa; and Jack ordered him to be hauled up through the aperture.
"Me nearly lib for dead," he said panting, "me run too fast."
"Well, who are you, and what do you want?"
"Me Lofembi, sah. Me boy massa him uncle."
"What!"
"Yes, sah; me massa Martindale boy."
"Where is he?" cried Jack, feeling himself go pale with excitement at
the sudden news.
"He long long in forest, sah. Come up ribber in boat; one man say
young massa shut up in Ilombekabasi; old massa get out of boat, hide in
forest so long for young massa to know. He plenty sick at Boma, sah;
nearly gone dead. Fust small small better, sah! lib for go sick all
same; talk small small, sah; no make head straight. He try write; no
can hold black stick; he fit for go sleep."
"Good heavens, Barney! Poor old Uncle!"
"Sure, the man may be a liar, sorr," said Barney.
Jack gave the man a keen glance.
"My uncle tried to write, you say. What did he try to write?"
"Bonkanda to massa; oh yes! He want say he come; he want know what he
fit to do. No want see bad man; no; want to come to Ilombekabasi.
Plenty hard job, 'cos bad man dah." He pointed in the direction of
Elbel's camp.
"If he is so very sick, how did he come from the river into the forest?"
"Four five men carry him, sah. Plenty big lump; oh yes."
"Why did he send you? Where's Nando?"
"Nando lib for sick at Leo[1]; no fit to come; him plenty sick; oh yes.
Me Lofembi; me come, do talk for massa. Massa gib fing to show young
massa; here he am."
He produced a gold scarf ring and handed it to Jack.
"This is my uncle's, sure enough, Barney. It's genuine. What on earth
can we do? Poor old Uncle! In his last note he said he was
recovering; he must have had a relapse. How can we get him into the
fort? We must bring him in somehow. It's awful to think of him lying
ill in the forest without any one to look after him; and I am cooped up
here!"
"Send Samba to fetch him, sorr."
"I can't, Barney," said Jack after a moment's thought. "Samba goes
alone safely, but I simply can't trust him to lead a party in,
especially as Uncle seems to be too bad to move. I can't see any way
out of it. If I took some men out myself, and made a dash for it, the
enemy would be on our track, and we should have to fight our way in
against the whole lot of them. Impossible; they outnumber us so
greatly."
Barney was sympathetic, but unable to offer a suggestion. Bidding him
keep an eye on Lofembi, Jack went back to his hut to think the matter
out by himself. He was torn with anxiety. An unlucky chance might at
any moment reveal his uncle's whereabouts, and he knew what mercy Mr.
Martindale might expect if he fell into the hands of Elbel. Something
must be done; yet what? A dozen plans occurred to him, only to be
rejected.
One thing was clear; whatever was done must be done either by Barney or
himself. Mr. Martindale being incapacitated, another white man must
lead his party, for the natives, unless properly led, might be seized
with panic at the slightest check and bolt.
Barney he could not send. There was no finesse about him; he was a
good fighter, with any amount of pluck, but the very antithesis of a
scout. Jack felt that he must go himself if his uncle was to have the
best chance of getting in. There was no other course that offered the
same prospect of success.
What were his chances? His sortie against the enemy's camp had been a
brilliant success. Since then Elbel had been practically on the
defensive; he was afraid of wasting ammunition; afraid also of leaving
any small body unsupported by his main force. During the past week
Jack's scouts had reported night after night that no pickets had been
posted as formerly around the fort, so that, except on the south-east,
where Elbel's camp was, the neighbourhood was open. He could thus
easily steal out at the gate in the northern wall under cover of
darkness, and by making a wide detour ought to be able to bring Mr.
Martindale and his party back in safety.
Yet he had qualms. Ought he in any case to leave the fort? Supposing
he failed, what would happen to the hundreds of people who depended on
him? Driven by force of circumstances into a life-and-death struggle
with Elbel's Company, he had not ventured to look forward to its
ultimate issue. The duty of the moment seemed to be to hold on, to
keep the poor negroes out of the clutches of their oppressors, and
leave the end with God. Could he trust Barney to continue his work if
he should be removed? Ought he to think of it? Thus he pondered and
puzzled, the arguments for and against chasing one another in a circle
through his mind.
He had reached no conclusion when Barney came to the hut. The good
fellow seemed a little uncomfortable; he stood hesitating at the
entrance, his readiness of speech having apparently deserted him.
"Barney, I'm the most miserable fellow alive," said Jack, looking up.
"All but wan, sorr; all but wan. 'Tis the master who is more miserable
than you or me, sorr. Think uv it; alone in the forest, wid none but
black idjuts to wait upon 'm. I've been thinking mighty hard, sorr,
and the end uv it is this; 'tis you that must go, sorr. Sure I can
hold the fort while you are gone."
"But what if I never come back, Barney?"
"'Twould be a desp'rate hard case, sorr. But what thin? I'm an
Irishman, and, bedad! 'twas for hard cases Irishmen was born. Niver a
fear but I'd stick to it, sorr. We've beaten the scuts all along. And
if the captain goes, sorr, sure the liftinant takes his place and does
his best to fill it dacently. What would have happened if ye had got
knocked on the head in that sortie uv yours? Do ye think Barney O'Dowd
would have hung out a white rag and surrindered? Sorrow a bit! I'd
have nailed my colours to the mast, speakin' by the card, and dared the
rufn'ns to come and take 'em."
"You're a brick, Barney!" cried Jack, springing up and gripping him by
the hand. "I'll go! I'll take Samba, this very night, and bring dear
old Uncle in."
"That's right, sorr. And we'll nurse him back to health and strength,
and make him colonel uv the reg'mint."
"Call out those men who captured Elbel's camp with me, and place them
at the gate to make a dash if they hear firing. And meanwhile you man
the wall and hold yourself ready to cover our entry. And, Barney, if
I'm caught and Uncle doesn't come in, hold the fort as long as you can.
Don't make sorties; simply sit tight. The rainy season will be on us
soon, Imbono said, and Elbel's camp is so badly placed that when the
rains come he will be swamped. He may then get tired of the siege and
draw off. If he does, I should arrange with the two chiefs for a trek
into the forest. But if Elbel still presses the siege and food begins
to run short--it won't last for ever, you know--you had better choose a
dark night and make a dash out to the north-east. If you go quickly
you'll get a good many hours' start before Elbel realizes what has
happened; and when once in the forest you may shake off pursuit. Our
rifles will form a rearguard."
"I'll do all that same, sorr. But I hope it will not be me fate to do
it at all. I'd sooner be liftinant for iver, sorr."
Shortly after nightfall, Jack, Samba, and Lofembi the messenger, made
their exit by the hole in the wall. Jack had wished to follow his
original intention and leave by the northern gate, but Lofembi
earnestly begged him not to do this, saying that he would not be able
to find the way if he did not go out by the same gate that he had
entered. At the moment of departure Barney gripped Jack's hand.
"The blessed angels go wid ye, sorr, and bring poor ould master back in
safety."
"Good-bye, Barney. Hope for the best, and remember--hold the fort."
It was slow work moving across the broken hilly country by night; but
Lofembi had previously pointed out to Samba the general direction in
which they had to go, and the boy was able to keep a fairly straight
course. They had to strike, said Lofembi, a path through the forest
following the course of the sun. Mr. Martindale's camp was pitched
close to the path, not far from where two large trees had fallen across
it. In about an hour they came to the outskirts of the forest in that
direction, the course being in the main the same as that taken by Jack
some weeks previously on his buffalo hunt, but leaving the open country
somewhat earlier. So far there had been no sign of the enemy.
Progress was even slower in the forest itself. More than once Lofembi
halted in doubt; then after a whispered colloquy with Samba he started
again, guiding himself by the stars seen through the tree tops. Save
for these whispered conversations not a word was spoken. Jack was too
much absorbed in his mission, too anxious about his uncle, to have any
inclination to talk, even if the risk of coming upon a scout of Elbel's
had not been present to his mind.
At length the three came upon the narrow track Lofembi had been
seeking. Here they went in Indian file, the guide leading, Jack coming
next, then Samba. The path was so narrow and so beset by obstructions
that walking was a toil. Sometimes Lofembi swerved to one side or the
other to avoid a prickly bush; sometimes they had to clamber over a
fallen tree; more often the path wound round the obstacle. It seemed
to Jack many hours since they started; in reality it was scarcely more
than three before they came upon the two fallen trees. Lofembi stopped.
"Small small now, massa," he whispered.
He gave a long low-pitched call. From the blackness on the left came a
similar call in reply. The guide moved forward, plunging boldly along
a narrow path--more narrow even than that by which they had reached
this spot--in the direction of the sound. Jack was about to follow him
when Samba touched him on the arm.
"Samba go first," said the boy.
"No, no," said Jack kindly. "We are all right; this is my place,
Samba."
His heart beat faster under the stress of his emotion as he followed
Lofembi through the tangled undergrowth. How would he find his uncle?
Was he very ill? Surely, surely, he was not in danger--he would not
die? Beads of sweat broke out upon Jack's brow as the terrible
possibility occurred to him. He went on almost blindly. Three
minutes' groping in the darkness brought them to a natural clearing, in
which, by the dim light of the stars, Jack saw a couple of tents, and,
some little distance from them, what appeared to be a number of roughly
made grass huts.
"Dis way, massa," said Lofembi, touching Jack on the arm.
"Which one?" said Jack in a low tone,
"Dat one," replied Lofembi, pointing to the nearer of the two huts.
He stepped forward into the clearing. At the same moment a score of
dusky forms rose and closed in stealthily from the undergrowth around.
With a little cry Samba plucked Jack by the sleeve. But almost
unconsciously he shook off the detaining hand, so full of anxiety was
he. His uncle must be very ill, or he would be standing by the tent to
welcome him. He sprang forward, stopped, and raised the flap of the
tent. By the light of a small oil lamp swinging from the top he saw a
form stretched upon a camp bed.
"Uncle! uncle!" he cried, falling on his knees by the side of the
prostrate figure.
A low murmur answered him. At the same moment he heard a sighing
groan, as it were, from the entrance to the hut, and the sound of a
heavy fall. Then the forest glade rang with fierce shouts and the
crack of a rifle. Jack rose to his feet, confused by this sudden
turmoil coming when his nerves were overstrung. As he half turned, a
figure came out of the darkness towards him.
"Good efening, Mr. Shalloner," said a smooth voice.
Jack started back.
"Yes, it is me--Guillaume Elbel, bien entendu!"
[1] Leopoldville.