A Solemn Charge
The party set off. They marched all day, with brief intervals for food
and rest. Jack was only allowed to speak to his uncle during these
pauses. The sick man lay inert, with closed eyes, protected from the
heat by a light covering of grass, which his bearers made and fixed
above his litter. Jack watched him anxiously. He seemed no worse when
they arrived at the river just before sunset. Mr. Martindale had
brought up four canoes; two of these had already been appropriated by
Elbel and conveyed up the river; the other two remained. They passed
the night on the canoes, and in the small hours, when the natives were
asleep, Mr. Martindale insisted on continuing the story broken off the
night before.
"Better now, dear boy," he said, when Jack implored him to wait until
he was stronger. "I shall never see Boma; Elbel knows that. He knows
that in this climate a sick man cannot survive a journey of over a
thousand miles. I want you to understand clearly before I go what
these officials are doing. They call it the Free State!--free! No one
is free but the officials! The natives, poor wretches! are not free.
Never, when slavery was an institution, were there slaves in such
abject misery as these slaves of the Congo. Why, they made a great
to-do about slavery in my country fifty years ago, and some of the
pictures in Uncle Tom's Cabin were lurid enough. But the American
slave's life was Paradise compared with this hell upon earth. Trade on
the Congo was to be free. Is there any such freedom? Look at my case.
They give me a patent to work minerals; they let me make my prospecting
trip; then when I have located the gold and ordered my machinery they
revoke my patent. I make the loaf, they eat it. Oh! it was all
planned from the beginning. We have been fooled right through, Jack."
"But what of their courts, Uncle? Surely there is some redress for
injustice."
"Their courts! They're all of a piece, Jack. The State grants a
concession to a trading company. Half the time the State _is_ the
trading company; it takes up the larger portion of the shares. The
Congo Free State is nothing but a big commercial speculation, and the
courts dare not do anything that conflicts with its interests. Men
come here, Belgians, Germans, Italians, good fellows some, honest,
well-meaning; but they haven't been here long before they have to swim
with the current, or throw up their careers. One poor fellow, a
district judge, ventured to protest against an illegal sentence passed
by a court-martial; he was broken, and hounded out of the country. In
a sense he was lucky, for it is easier for such a man to get into this
country than to get out of it--alive! A man who does justice and loves
righteousness has no place in the Congo Free State.
"You see now why they let me go. They let me make what arrangements I
pleased--engage a large party, buy a large quantity of stores; well
knowing that at any moment of my journey they could arrest me and
plunder my goods. And they knew of your doings up here, be sure of
that. They intended to let me get into the neighbourhood of your fort
and use me to decoy you out. They've done it. Oh! it was all planned
in Boma. Neither you nor I will ever reach Boma if Elbel and the
officials have their way. Elbel's suggestion of delaying so that we
could get Barney to surrender the fort was all a part of the trick; it
would make no difference to our treatment, and it would be the
death-warrant of those poor negroes. Jack, I approve of all that you
have done--approve with all my heart. I am proud of you, dear boy.
What does it matter that I've lost my money, and my gold mine, and very
likely my life too! I am thankful to Almighty God that we came to this
country, glad that He has put it into our power to do some little good.
I wouldn't undo any of it; I am proud that one of my blood has been
called to this good work. Jack, Providence has made us responsible for
the poor negroes who have trusted their lives to us. Do you remember I
said at Banonga that I wasn't a philanthropist and wasn't set on
starting a crusade? I spoke lightly, my boy. I would say now that if
God spared my life I would spend all my strength and all my energy in a
nobler work than ever mediaeval crusader undertook. I shall not live to
do it; but I leave it to you. Were this my last breath I would say,
help the negroes of the Congo, fight the corrupt Government that
enriches itself on their blood; go to the fountain-head and expose the
hypocrisy of King Leopold."
"He may not know of it, Uncle. So far away he cannot check and control
all the actions of his agents."
"Not know of it! How can he help knowing of it? Are not these things
happening every day? And it is his business to know of it. Suppose I
had a factory in the United States, and it was proved that while I was
coining millions my hands were dying of overwork, or of insanitary
buildings, or getting wages insufficient to keep them decently clothed
and fed; wouldn't there be an outcry? Wouldn't the law step in, or if
the law failed, public opinion? Where does Leopold get his dollars
from? Who pays for the estates he is buying, the palace he is
building, the fine public works he is presenting to Belgium? It is
these poor black people. He is draining the life-blood out of the
country he vowed before Almighty God to rule justly and administer
wisely for the good of the people; and the cries and groans of these
negroes, men like himself, are rising to Heaven, terrible witnesses of
his broken vows, his callousness, his selfish apathy. Oh! I grant him
good intentions to begin with. Twenty years ago he did not foresee all
this; no man is a villain all at once! But it might have been
foreseen. He was king of a few hundred miles of country; with a stroke
of the pen he became sovereign of a State as big as Europe; and if a
man has the passion for getting, unlimited opportunities of doing so
will bring him to any villainy unless he has the grace of God in him."
Jack was deeply moved by his uncle's earnestness. At the same time he
was concerned to see the exhaustion that followed his passionate
speech. He gave him a little wine, imploring him to spare himself.
"Don't trouble, dear boy," said Mr. Martindale with a smile. "The fire
is burning out; what does it matter if it burns a little more quickly?
But I won't distress you; you will think over my words when I am gone."
In the morning the river journey was begun. It continued for several
days, until with their arrival at the falls progress by water was
interrupted, and a long portage had to be made.
It was just at this point that they met a party of Askari marching in
the other direction. As soon as they came in sight the leader of
Jack's escort cried--
"O etswa?"[1]
"O!" replied the leader of the approaching band.
"Where are you going?"
"To the camp of Elobela."
"What have you got in those bundles?"
"Cartridges for Elobela's guns."
"Bolotsi O! He will be glad of them. He has very few left."
"Has he killed many people?"
"No. But Lokolobolo captured nearly all his cartridges."
"Mongo! Who is Lokolobolo?"
"Here he is! An Inglesa who has built a fort and fights Elobela. But
we have got him at last, and he goes with an old Inglesa to Boma. Oh!
he will fight no more."
"O kend'o?"
"O!"
During the river journey Mr. Martindale had grown steadily weaker. He
fought hard against his illness; he had a new motive for desiring life;
and Jack, observing his occasional rallies, hoped still that he would
pull through. But he was so weak when lifted from the canoe that he
fainted, and Jack feared that he would not survive the day. He rallied
again, and once more Jack had a gleam of hope.
The horrors of that overland march will haunt Jack's memory till he
dies. For some time the Askari had been ill-using the carriers. The
greater part of the stores which Mr. Martindale had taken up the river
had been appropriated by Elbel, and the food left in the canoes was not
sufficient for full meals for the whole party. It was the carriers who
went short. They had to bear the burdens, to make frequent journeys to
and fro up the steep river banks, while the Askari looked on and had
the best of the food. When the portage was begun, one of the canoes
was added to their load. The other was left hidden in the bush to be
fetched later. Weak from lack of proper nourishment, they could go but
slowly, and Jack's blood boiled as he saw them quiver, heard them
shriek, under the merciless chicotte. Before the first day was ended,
two of the men fell, worn out with hunger and fatigue. Jack heard
shots behind him, and saw that the wretched men had been put out of
their misery. On the second day another man succumbed; what little
life was left in him was beaten out with the clubbed rifles of the
Askari. Three men ran away during the night, preferring the perils of
the forest to the certain fate that awaited them at the hands of their
fellow-men. Only two carriers were now left, and since these were
useless they were shot in cold blood. Jack's heart was like a stone
within him. These atrocities recalled the worst horrors of the old
Arab slave-raiding days; and he was unable to lift a hand to oppose
them. If he had been the only white man with the party he felt that he
would have risked anything in an effort to save the poor wretches; but
while his uncle still lived he could do nothing that might involve his
own death.
The bearers being all gone, the Askari had to take turns themselves in
carrying the canoe, the remainder of their provisions, and Mr.
Martindale's litter. This necessity did not improve their temper or
their manners, and the litter-bearers went so carelessly over the rough
ground that Jack was constrained to protest. He implored, he
threatened, feeling that the only chance for his uncle was to make more
frequent halts; the fatigue of constant travelling would certainly kill
him. But the Askari roughly replied that they had orders to continue
their journey without delay, and the march was resumed. After his
protest Jack was forced to walk at a distance from the litter, and even
when the caravan halted for food he was not allowed to attend his
uncle. Sick at heart he plodded on, torn by his anxieties, yet still
nourishing a hope that when they arrived at a station where a doctor
might be found, and whence the journey would be continued by steamer,
all might yet be well.
But one evening, when the halt was made, he heard his uncle faintly
calling. The sound of his voice struck a chill through him. In
desperation, snatching a rifle from the guard next him, he threatened
to shoot any one who tried to keep him from the dying man.
"It's all up with me, old boy," said Mr. Martindale feebly, when Jack
knelt by his litter. "Elbel is having his way. I shan't see another
morning."
Jack gripped his hands; they were chill and clammy. A lump came into
his throat; he could not speak the yearning affection that filled his
heart.
"Bend down, Jack; I'm afraid I cannot make you hear.
Remember--remember what I have said; it is my bequest to you--the cause
of the Congo natives. Do what you can for them. Fight! It is called
the Free State; fight to make it free. I cannot see the future; all is
dark; I dread what may await you in Boma. But buck up, dear fellow.
Barney--remember him. Go to the British consul; tell him all. Your
people have generous sympathies; wake them up; wake them up! If they
are roused, all this wrong will come to an end."
"I will do all I can, Uncle," murmured Jack.
"Don't mourn overlong for me. I've had a good time. And this year the
best of all. I wouldn't lose it, Jack. Tell my friends I'm not sorry;
I'm glad, glad to have seen with my own eyes something that's worth
doing. And I have faith in the future--in my fellow-men, in God. What
is it about wicked doers? 'They encourage themselves in mischief, and
commune how they may lay snares; they imagine wickedness and practise
it. But God shall suddenly shoot at them with a swift arrow; yea,
their own tongues shall make them fall.' How does it go on? I cannot
remember. 'The righteous shall rejoice----.' Jack, are you there?"
"Yes, Uncle, I am here," replied Jack, tightening his clasp.
"Is it the fifteenth Psalm? 'He that walketh uprightly----' I cannot
remember, Jack.--Is that boy Samba better? Poor little chap! No
father and mother!--Barnard said there was gold; why can't he find
it?--No, that's not a nugget, that's---- Only a dog, eh? I'm kind o'
set on dogs...."
And so he rambled on, muttering incoherently in his delirium; and Jack
did not stir, but remained cramped while the slow hours crawled on, and
nocturnal insects hummed, and frogs croaked, and the leaves faintly
rustled above him.
Then, as the dawn was creeping up the sky, Mr. Martindale opened his
eyes. They rested on Jack's pale drawn face, and the dying man smiled.
"Buck up!" he whispered. "Remember! 'Though I walk through the valley
of the shadow....'"
And so he died.
[1] Are you awake? (the morning greeting)