Elbel Squares Accounts
Jack saw through it all now. Elbel had captured his uncle, and used
him to decoy from the fort the enemy whom fair fighting and open
manoeuvres had failed to dislodge. He could have shot the Belgian with
his rifle where he stood, but saw in a flash how vain the action would
be. Outside was a horde of savage natives, who would instantly wreak
vengeance on the white men. Mr. Martindale was too weak to resist, and
what he would suffer at their hands was too horrible to be thought of.
When Elbel had spoken Jack turned once more to his uncle, and kneeling
down by his bedside clasped his hand. His pressure was returned but
feebly. Mr. Martindale's weakness, coupled with his distress at Jack's
capture, rendered him unable to speak.
"I beg you listen to me," said Elbel. "I have a varrant for the arrest
of Chon Martindale, Chon Shalloner, and a third man, whose name I do
not know, on a charge dat dey incite de natives to rebel against de
Congo Free State. I have two of the dree; dat is vell. It vill be for
your advantage, to-morrow, to send a written order to de third man to
render dat fort on de hill. It vill be for your advantage at de trial.
If de fort resist longer, and cause blood to spill, it vill be so much
de vorse for you ven you appear before de court in Boma."
"Where is your warrant, Mr. Elbel?" asked Jack.
"Ah! I have it not viz me; of course, it is in my camp."
"I suppose you are going to take us there? You can show it to me when
we get there."
"No, you meestake. I vill not take you to my camp. I vill send you
both at vunce to Boma, vere you vill be tried."
"But my uncle is not in a condition to travel; you know that."
"Bah! He vas in condition to travel here; vell, he is in condition to
travel back."
"But that is preposterous, Mr. Elbel. Are you absolutely inhuman? I
find my uncle so ill that he cannot even speak to me. God knows how
much his illness is due to you or your friends. At least you will
allow him to remain until I can give him some little attention--until
he regains a little strength. To do anything else will be nothing less
than murder."
"Dat is not my affair," said Elbel with a shrug. "It is instructed me
to send you to Boma. To Boma zerefore muss you go, and at vunce."
Then, as a thought struck him, he added, "Though truly I will vait vun
day, two days perhaps, if you give command to de man in de fort to
render himself."
"Never!" came in a fierce whisper from the bed. Mr. Martindale had
gathered his little strength for Jack's sake. "Never! We will make no
terms with you. What my nephew has done he has done merely in
self-defence against the acts, the illegal acts, of you and your
freebooters. I am an American citizen; he is a British subject; as
you, yes, and your Free State, will find to your cost."
He spoke in feeble gasps, yet with an energy that spoke of an
unconquerable spirit. The exertion exhausted him, and he fell back on
the bed from which he had half risen.
"Bah! Fine vords!" said Elbel. "Ver' fine vords, monsieur. You say
you are American--you dink dat frighten me! Vy, I laugh. Vat good is
de American or de English in de Congo Free State? Ve mock of dem. Ve
have our own vays to deal viz such canaille. You vill not send order
to de fort? Ver' vell; I do vizout."
"Your warrant won't hold in any case. No one can order the arrest of a
man unnamed."
"You zink so? Ver' vell, it does not matter. You vill have
opportunity to zink about my vords as you promenade yourselves to Boma.
So I vish you bonsoir. To attempt to escape, I tell you it is
impossible. You see dat? You hab revolver, Mr. Shalloner. Be so kind
to gif me dat."
Jack hesitated. But he saw that resistance was useless, and handed
over the weapon.
"Danks. In de morning you vill begin your promenade to Boma. Au
revoir, messieurs; au revoir Monsieur Chon Shalloner!"
He left the tent. The interview had been too much for Mr. Martindale.
He lay half unconscious, and was scarcely roused when Elbel, in a
couple of minutes, returned in a towering rage.
"You, Chon Shalloner!" he shouted. "You make de natives to rebel, and
more, you make dem to do murder. Dat man, who I sent to the fort, he
lie now outside, a dead man. Some vun dat come viz you he stab him in
de back. You English hombog, I teach you. Dey shall know of dis in
Boma."
Jack did not condescend to answer him, and Elbel flung out of the tent.
If his messenger was dead, he had paid the penalty of his treachery.
Jack could only pity the poor wretch for meeting with such an end in
such a service. No doubt it was Samba's doing. Jack remembered now
the groan and the fall outside. Had Samba escaped? He was anxious on
the boy's behalf, but it was impossible to ascertain what had happened
to him. From Elbel's manner and words he inferred that Samba was safe.
And as for Elbel's indignation at the deed Jack was not impressed by
it. When he thought of the murders and maimings this man was
answerable for, he could find no blame for the faithful boy who had
punished as his instincts taught him, the spy who had betrayed his
master.
Jack was left alone with his uncle. He looked vainly round the tent
for a restorative--a drug, a flask of brandy, even a cup of water.
There was nothing. He bent over the still form, and touching the brow,
gently, felt it burning with the heat of fever. He knew that his uncle
was accustomed to keep a small phial of quinine pills in his waistcoat
pocket, and searching for that he found it and persuaded the sick man
to swallow a little of the medicine. Then he sat on the foot of the
bed, not knowing what to do.
How fully his forebodings had been justified! It had been a mistake to
leave the fort. And yet he could not rue it, for otherwise he might
never have seen his uncle again. He looked at the face with the
half-closed eyes; how thin it was! how pale! The ruddy hue, the
rounded shape of health, were gone. Where was that bright twinkling
eye that looked so shrewdly out from beneath a shaggy brow? What
sufferings he must have undergone! At that moment Jack looked over the
past months to the day when he so light-heartedly bade his uncle
good-bye, and so cheerfully accepted the charge laid upon him. How he
wished they had never been parted!
And then another thought drove out his regret. But for this parting
Ilombekabasi would never have been, and several hundreds of poor black
people would almost certainly have been tortured, mutilated, done to
death, in the name of law. Could he have done otherwise than he had
done? Had Providence, moving in mysterious ways, arranged all
this--that one should suffer for the sake of many? He did not know; he
could not think; his mind seemed to be wrapt in a cloud of mist,
through which he saw nothing but the present fact--that his uncle lay
before him, sick--perhaps unto death.
By and by a negro entered, bearing food and palm wine. Mr. Martindale
could not eat, but the wine revived him.
"Jack, old boy!"
Jack knelt by the bedside, clasping his uncle's hand.
"Jack, I must tell you what happened."
"Don't, Uncle; you will distress yourself."
"No, I shall do myself no harm. If you will be patient--for I shall be
slow--a little at a time, Jack. You must know. I've got pretty nearly
to the end of my tether, dear boy. I shan't live to do anything for
these poor niggers, but you will--you will, Jack. And I want you to
vow here, at this moment, to do what I must leave undone--fight the
Congo State, Jack, fight Leopold, with your hands, your tongue, your
pen, here, in Europe, in America; fight him in the name of humanity and
of God. Promise me that, Jack, so that if I do not live till the
morning I shall at least die happy."
"God helping me, Uncle, I will."
Mr. Martindale pressed his hand. For some time there was silence, then
the elder man began again.
"I must try to speak calmly, my boy; I have so little strength; but it
is hard. I told you in my first letter of what I had learnt about the
ways of the Congo State. You wondered, I dare say, why I never
mentioned them again. You will understand why. When I got to Boma, I
reported to the Governor-General, in a written memorial, the incidents
that occurred as we went up the river--the altercation with Elbel, the
attempt on our canoes, the night attack on our camp, frustrated by
Samba. (I can't tell you how glad I was, Jack, when you told me the
boy had returned to you.) I forestalled the probable answer that Elbel
had nothing to do with those attempts by pointing out that the negroes
Samba saw were fully armed, and must have been under a white man's
control. Even then it was illegal, for I found that men in Elbel's
position, representing Concessions, are not entitled to take more than
five riflemen as escort beyond the limits of their trading factories.
In my memorial I said that, after these attacks on me, I should be
forced in self-defence to arm a certain number of my followers, and I
disclaimed responsibility for the consequences. I also reported the
scene of desolation at Banonga, and the story I had heard from Samba's
lips; and called upon the Governor-General to take instant action in
the matter."
Jack moistened his uncle's lips, and he continued:
"I got an acknowledgment, polite enough, even pleasant, promising that
these matters should be inquired into. The Governor-General added that
the possession of firearms and the arming of the natives being
prohibited by law, I should become liable to heavy penalties and
imprisonment if the law was broken. I had luckily already sent you the
rifles and ammunition; though had I not done so, I could easily have
bribed an official to give me a permit to carry arms; it would have
cost me five hundred francs for the licence, and as much as I chose for
the bribe.
"For a week I heard no more. I was deceived by the politeness of the
Governor-General's letter into believing that I was perfectly safe, and
free to do, in this Free State, what I had come to do. I set about my
business, and, as I told you, bought a little machinery, from a fellow
named Schwab, agent for a Duesseldorf firm. But I was a marked man.
One day an officer came and asked me to show my patent. I did so. The
man complained that it was not properly filled up; my name was spelled
with an 'e' instead of an 'i'--Martendale! I laughed at him, and he
went away in a huff. Next day another fellow came and said that my
patent was worthless. Since it had been granted a new arrangement had
been entered into between the Concession and the State, and all the
mineral rights in the district reverted to the State. I laughed at
that; a patent granted by the Concession and authorized by the State
could not be revoked; it had five years to run, and I meant to stick to
it. They wanted to bluff me--an American!--out of it.
"But things began to go badly with me. I was practically boycotted,
Jack. None of the storekeepers would supply me with anything I wanted.
One of them frankly told me that to do so was as much as his life was
worth. I did not believe him at first. But I found it was only too
true. A storekeeper in Boma I heard of--a British subject, Jack, from
the Gold Coast--had a part in showing up the rascality of some legal
proceedings that had recently taken place. The officials gave the
word. He was boycotted; his trade dwindled; he became bankrupt; one of
his sons was driven mad by the persecution he suffered; and his
troubles and worries so preyed upon the old man's mind that he took his
own life.
"Then I fell ill. It was a near touch, Jack. Only the devotion of a
fellow-countryman--a fine fellow from Milwaukee--saved my life.
Remember his name, Jack--Theodore Canrehan; if you ever meet him, and
can do him a good turn, do it for my sake. When I got on my feet
again, I was amazed to find the tune changed. Everybody was as sweet
as butter. The officers came and apologized to me; they regretted the
unfortunate misunderstandings that had arisen; they would do all in
their power to forward my business. I arranged for the dispatch of the
machinery I had ordered from Europe, and started to return. I couldn't
make out what had made them suddenly so attentive; thought it was
because I was an American, and they had some respect for the Stars and
Stripes after all. Canrehan told me that since I sailed a strong
feeling had been growing in America with regard to the Congo question;
and I flattered myself the State authorities weren't anxious to add
fuel to the flames by provoking a real serious grievance in which an
American was concerned. But it was all a trap, Jack--all a trap. I
saw it too late--too late."
Hitherto Mr. Martindale had spoken slowly and calmly, husbanding his
strength. But at this point his feeling overcame him.
"Don't talk any more now, Uncle," said Jack, fearing that the exertion
would be too much for him. "Tell me the rest another time. Try to
sleep. I will watch over you. Thank God I shall be with you in the
journey to Boma. You'll pull through even now, and we shall be able to
fight together."
Mr. Martindale had already fallen into a doze. Jack did his best to
make his bed more comfortable, and watched him through the night,
pacing round the tent for hours together to keep himself awake. From
time to time his thoughts went back to the fort. What was Barney
doing? What would he do when morning came and yet the absent had not
returned? What would be the fate of the poor people committed to his
charge? At present all was dark to Jack. It seemed that he and all
connected with him were now in the fell grip of the Congo State.
As soon as it was light Elbel came into the tent.
"I hope you had good night," he said, with a grin. "You vill have
breakfast, den you vill begin your promenade. Tventy-five Askari vill
escort you. You vill go to de river vere Mr. Martindale left his
canoes; dey are still dere. Ah! he did hide dem, but vat good? You
vill go on canoes till you come to de falls; dere you vill for a time
voyage overland. By and by you come to Stanleyville; dere you find
steamer; de State officers vill have care of you de rest of de vay to
Boma. You understan'?"
"I warn you, Mr. Elbel, that I shall hold you responsible for my
uncle's safety down the river. You see for yourself he is not fit to
travel. I shall take the earliest opportunity of informing the
American Government of your actions--your persecution, for it is no
less."
"Dat is all right," returned Elbel, grinning again. "De courts at Boma
vill give immediate attention. De judges, dey are excellent. Now
still vunce before you go, write de order to de vite man in your fort
to render himself. It vill profit you."
"Never!" said Jack. "Go and execute your warrant."
"Ver' vell, ver' vell. It matters noding. In a half-hour de Askari
vill be here. You be ready."
Jack managed to get his uncle to eat a little food. He seemed somewhat
stronger and less feverish than on the preceding evening. At seven
o'clock the twenty-five soldiers appeared, accompanied by eight men as
carriers. Mr. Martindale recognized these as belonging to the party he
had brought up the river; the rest of his men, he supposed, had been
impressed by Elbel for service in his camp. It being obvious that the
sick man was unable to walk, a litter had been constructed for him. He
was placed on this. Four men were told off to carry it, the other four
bearing food sufficient to last the whole party until they reached the
canoes.
Jack had wondered whether he was to be manacled; but the prestige of
the white man, not any consideration for his feelings, had prevented
Elbel from going to such extremes. But as he stood behind his uncle's
litter, two Askari with loaded rifles placed themselves one on each
side of him.
When the party were ready to start, Elbel sauntered up, his hands
behind his back, and, approaching Jack, said with a smile:
"Now, Mr. Shalloner, before ve part I have a little vat you call
reckoning viz you. You strike me vunce, tvice, viz your feest. Dat is
de English vay--de boxe, hein?" Elbel showed his teeth. "On de Congo
ve have anoder vay--de chicotte. Vun does not soil vun's hands. So!"
He took from behind his back a hippopotamus-hide whip, and, cutting
short so as to avoid the Askari close beside Jack, dealt him two cuts
with his utmost strength. Jack clenched his teeth to stifle a cry as
the edges of the thong cut through his thin clothes.
"Dere! Now are ve quits!"
As he spoke Jack, blazing with anger and mortification, made a fierce
spring at him. But Elbel was ready: he jumped nimbly backwards, while
half a dozen Askari rushed between them, and pinioned Jack's arms.
Honour was satisfied--so Elbel appeared to think, for with a grin of
malicious triumph he nodded to the Askari in charge: the party might
now proceed.
"You see," said Elbel, as they moved away, "if you try to escape you
vill be shot. I vish you agreeable promenade."