The Chicotte
A small palm, spared for the sake of its welcome shade when the rest of
the ground was cleared, sheltered Monsieur Elbel's tent from the
fiercest rays of the tropical sun, In the tent Monsieur Elbel, smoking
a bad Belgian cigar, his camp chair tilted back to a perilous angle,
his feet on a small rickety table, read and re-read with a smile of
satisfaction a short official communication that had just reached him
from Brussels. Owing to the retirement of the Company's principal
agent, and in recognition of Monsieur Elbel's energy in doubling the
consignment of rubber from his district during the past year, the
Comite had been pleased to appoint Monsieur Elbel to be administrative
chief of the Maranga Concession. At the same time the Comite hoped
that Monsieur Elbel would see his way to deal promptly and effectively
with the reported outbreak at Ilola, without incurring undue expense,
and that the American who had been giving trouble, and whose patent was
now revoked (with the concurrence of the State) would be persuaded of
the necessity of leaving the country.
Monsieur Elbel was gratified by the news of his promotion; although it
was his due by all the standards of conduct set up for the guidance of
officials, whether State or Trust, charged with the exploitation of
Congoland. Under no officer had the development of King Leopold's
African dominions gone more blithely forward than under Monsieur Elbel.
Where he and his men went they left a wilderness behind them; but the
amount of rubber they collected was most gratifying; and if Maranga
stock stood high it was largely through their exertions. True, in
twenty years there would be no people left in Maranga, even if there
were rubber to collect. But after all that was not Monsieur Elbel's
concern: in twenty years he would not be on the Congo; those who came
after him must find their own collectors. He and the King took short
views: sufficient unto the day--they were both men of business. Yes,
as a man of affairs Guillaume Elbel was hard to beat. It was no wonder
that the Comite had promoted him to the vacant post; if he had been
passed by, where would be the inducement to zeal, to loyal faithful
service? Where indeed?
In the circumstances Monsieur Elbel was in good humour, a relaxation he
rarely allowed himself. He drank the remains of his absinthe, tilted
his chair back to the critical angle, and blowing a cloud of smoke
skywards saw in the curling eddies visions of snug directorates in
Brussels. Why not? He flattered himself there were none who knew more
about the Congo than he; he could estimate to a few francs the
possibilities of any district as expressed in rubber; and, what is
more, he knew how to get it. With him the people always lasted as long
as the rubber. There was no waste; he plumed himself on the point.
_He_ had never burnt a village before the rubber was exhausted,
whatever might be said of other agents. For after all, his business
was to promote commerce--that is, collect rubber--not mere destruction.
And if he did not know his business there was nobody who could teach
him. Yes--his Majesty had an eye to men of his stamp. A
directorate--a few directorates--a snug place at Court--who knows? ...
Monsieur Elbel again glanced at the official letter; and again smiled
and blew a ring artistically true. Then his eye caught the word
"expense," and his expression changed. This Ilola difficulty would not
only reduce his rubber consignments; it would mean a considerable
outlay--how much he did not like to think. And then there was the
column of State troops now on its way. No doubt the Concession would
have to pay for that, too. Peste! if only he could finish this
business before Van Vorst came up! He did not desire the presence of
Van Vorst or any other State officer, if it could be avoided. For
there was gold in the stream, without a doubt; and those State
officials were greedy rascals; they were capable of edging him
out--they had no scruples--his moral claim would go for nothing,
absolutely. Yes, the fort must be captured at once before Van Vorst
came up. If only he could tap the water supply it would be easy
enough. It could be done; the little fool had let out so much; but
how?--that was what he had to find out, and his name was not Elbel if
he couldn't do it.
He rose and went to the door of the tent. A few yards away, securely
tied to the trunk of the slender palm, was a negro boy. Monsieur Elbel
looked at him critically as if measuring his strength. Last night,
although threatened with the chicotte, the boy had refused to speak.
Only once, when Elbel had offered him freedom and rewards if he would
point out the source of the water in the camp above, did he open his
lips, saying fiercely: "I will never tell you!"--betraying to the
questioner that he had some knowledge of the secret. Now he had had
twelve hours of hunger and thirst to help him to a more reasonable
frame of mind. All night the cords had been eating into his wrists and
ankles; he was weak from want of food, and consumed with an intolerable
thirst. He stood there in the blazing sun, a listless, pitiable
figure, held upright only by the thongs that bound his wrists; and
Monsieur Elbel as he looked at him, felt not a little irritated. It
was absurd that he should be inconvenienced; nay, more, that the
development of the Concession should be delayed, and expense
incurred--avoidable, unnecessary expense--expense without any return in
rubber--all because this slip of a boy refused to tell what he knew.
Elbel beckoned to his servant and interpreter, standing close by,
attentive and expectant.
"Tell him," he said, "that I will give him one more chance. If he will
not speak he shall be thrashed with the chicotte until he does."
The man roughly grasped the boy by the shoulders and translated his
master's words. The captive slowly shook his head.
"Fetch the chicotte," said Elbel sharply. "We'll see what that will
do."
The man entered the tent, where the chicotte invariably lay ready to
hand; and when he emerged the space in front of Elbel's quarters was
filling with Askari and their followers flocking like vultures to the
feast. Samba, the son of Mboyo, chief of Banonga, was to be whipped.
Boloko had caught him last night: he was a clever man, Boloko. And
Samba knew where the Inglesa got the water for his camp, the secret was
to be cut from him by the chicotte. That was good; it would be a sight
to see.
No time was lost. Elbel signed to the man as he approached, and
stepping back left him a clear space to swing the whip. The negro
prided himself upon his skill; as Elbel's servant, indeed, he had more
opportunities of perfecting himself with this typical instrument of
Congo government than falls to most. He could deliver a stroke with
great delicacy, raising only a long red weal upon the skin, or if the
case called for real severity could cut the offender's flesh from his
body almost as neatly as with a knife.
In this case his master desired information; it was not a mere question
of punishing a sullen defaulter. He would begin gently lest the
prisoner should lose the power of speech and shame the executioner
before his master and the crowd.
A slight convulsive shiver shook the boy's frame as the whip fell, but
he clenched his teeth and no sound escaped him. The man waited for a
moment.
"Will you tell?"
There was no answer.
Again the whip rose and fell, this time with a more vicious sound; it
was answered by a low groan; but still to the same question there was
no reply.
By slow degrees the executioner increased the vigour of his stroke.
The Askari applauded, and surely he was meriting praise from his
master, for after many strokes the prisoner was quite conscious, as his
pallid face and staring eyes and clenched teeth clearly showed. And
besides, did he not writhe and groan with every blow?
But there is no reckoning with the vagaries of the white man. The
culprit's obstinate silence irritated Monsieur Elbel more and more as
the punishment went on. It was intolerable that he should be defied in
this way. It was a bad example to the natives. Where would the white
man's authority be if this kind of thing were permitted? They would
lose all respect: the collection of rubber would become a farce.
Suddenly he blazed out in anger, snatched the whip from the hands of
his servant, and, whirling it round his head, brought it down with all
his force on the bruised and bleeding form. It cut a deep purple gash
in the boy's back; but Monsieur Elbel's wrath had come too late; before
the lash fell Samba had fainted.
Elbel hesitated for a moment; then, seeing that further punishment
would be a mere waste of time, he gave a curt order. They cut Samba's
cords and carried him away. He was to be whipped again to-morrow.
That afternoon Lepoko came to Jack with a broad grin on his face.
"Mbota come back, sah."
"That's the scout of Massa Barney's who was captured, isn't it?"
"Yussah! He come back, sah. Oh! it make me laugh plenty much.
Elobela send Mbota back; he say, 'You go back, cut off Lokolobolo him
head. Me gib you twenty, fousand, plenty, plenty brass rods!' Mbota
say, 'All same, massa. Anyfing what massa like. Me get plenty men
what help.' Den Mbota come back; he laugh, sah; Elobela plenty big
fool fink him lib for hurt Lokolobolo."
"Bring Mbota to me at once."
When the man came, Jack got out of him a more lucid story than Lepoko
had given. Elbel had promised freedom and large rewards if he would
stir up a revolt against Jack, or assassinate him. The negro had
readily promised, with no intention but to reveal the whole scheme to
his beloved Lokolobolo.
Jack was still talking to the man when he heard loud cries. Running
out of his hut, he found Barney clutching by the arm a strange negro,
thronged about by a shouting crowd of the men of Ilombekabasi.
"Who is he?"
"'Tis wan uv Elbel's men, sorr. Lianza caught him in the forest, and
brought him in. The men are simply mad to get at him, sorr, especially
since they've heard uv what Elbel said to Mbota."
"Leave him to me. I will deal with him."
The men slowly dispersed. Jack took the trembling negro to his hut and
questioned him.
"Do you know anything of Samba, the son of Mboyo and nephew of Boloko,
one of your master's men?"
Yes, he knew.--Was there a man in Elobela's camp who did not know?--who
had not exulted when the news spread that Samba, the best of
Lokolobolo's scouts, had been captured and was to pay the penalty?
Surely not a man was absent when Samba suffered the torture. Had not
many of them tried in vain to discover the secret which Samba would be
forced to betray?
The scout described to Jack the whole pitiful scene, in the glowing
language, with the telling dramatic gestures, which the negro has at
command when he feels that his audience is interested. And while the
man told his story Jack went hot and cold by turns--cold with sheer
horror of the scene conjured up by the man's vivid words, hot with a
great wrath, a burning passionate desire to seek instant vengeance upon
the evildoer.
Bidding Barney keep the negro carefully under guard, he went back to
his hut, at the entrance to which Mr. Arlington had been anxiously
watching the scene.
"It is devilish, sir," he burst out. "Elbel not only offers rewards
for assassinating me, but he uses his brutal whip on a boy, to force
him to reveal the secret of our water supply. Samba is probably
half-dead--he fainted under the lash but would not betray us--brave
little fellow! Think of the agony he must have suffered! And he is
only one; thousands have suffered in the same way before him, and are
suffering to-day in one part or another of this State. Do you blame me
now, sir?"
"No, I don't blame you. I am deeply sorry for the poor boy. The whole
thing is an outrage upon human nature, so revolting that any action
that can be taken against it is fully justified. I have been thinking
over what we said the other day. It is not for me to advise; indeed,
my friends at home would open their eyes at the idea of my abetting
resistance to authority; but I will give you my opinion. You must hold
your fort. While the banner of revolt is kept flying there is always a
prospect of forcing the hand of the officials in the direction of
effective reform. They have an enormous area to control--a disaffected
area seething with indignation against bitter wrong. A successful
revolt will encourage outbreaks elsewhere. If you can only hold out;
if you can make yourself strong enough here in this remote corner to
defy the authorities, it will be an opportunity of forcing the
government to terms--to the granting of elementary rights of justice
and liberty to its own subjects, and the throwing open of this
sorely-afflicted country to free intercourse with the outside world."
"Ah! If only I can do it, sir! But I can only hold the fort now by
striking a blow at Elbel before his reinforcements join him. If the
forces unite, they will be strong enough to carry on a strict siege.
Our food is giving out; the people have been for some time on half
rations; they don't grumble, but it will have to be quarter rations
soon, and then the end is not far off. We must either surrender or
trek."
"If you have to trek, it would be better to do so at once, while you
have food to take your party on your way."
"Yes, we must either do that or thoroughly beat Elbel. That would ease
the pressure; the others would think twice before attacking us; they
might even draw off until an overwhelming force could be brought
against us. That would give time for us to grow more crops, and for
you to go back to England, sir, and raise your voice against this
atrocious government."
"I shall certainly do that. But you talk of fighting Elbel; have you
thought of the risk?"
"Till my head aches with thinking. I know that failure will mean ruin.
It must be a smashing blow; pin-pricks are no good; and I can't smash
him without taking a large force out of the fort. If we were obliged
to retreat we should be followed up; they might rush the fort, and
there would be an end of everything."
"It is a difficult position. I can't help you; I am not a soldier--it
seems to me you ought to be one, Mr. Challoner. I could take no active
part; I should in any case be little good. I feel that you have landed
me in a very awkward position," he added with a smile. "But it can't
be helped now; I can only wait and see you go through with it."
At the back of Jack's mind there was another consideration which he did
not mention. He could not have said how far he allowed it to count.
It was the bare chance of rescuing Samba--if Samba was still alive. If
it had been put to him, he would probably not have admitted it. The
good of the community could not be jeopardized by any action on behalf
of an individual, whatever his claim; the circumstances were too
critical. But that the fate of Samba was an additional argument in
favour of the course he was on other grounds inclined to adopt there
can be no doubt.
Next day the urgency of the situation was brought home to him. Two
fires were seen at the appointed spot; Makoko had done his work. Five
or six hours later, just after nightfall, Makoko himself came in. He
reported that one white man with twenty soldiers in two canoes, with
many paddlers, had started up river in advance of the bulk of the
force, which had now reached camp at the head of the rapids. Jack
guessed that the white man was the officer in command, probably the
Captain Van Vorst of whom Elbel had spoken, coming ahead to view the
position and select an encampment for his followers.
About noon on the next day there was a great sound of jubilation from
the camp below. Van Vorst, if it was he, had arrived. He must have
travelled night and day, the river route being so much longer than the
forest one that otherwise he could hardly have reached the camp in
another twelve hours. But his paddlers were no doubt pressed men from
the riverine villages, costing nothing and having no rights, and a
Congo State commandant in a hurry would not hesitate to drive them.
In the afternoon a negro bearing a white flag was seen approaching the
fort from the south. He evidently expected to be admitted by the hole
in the wall. But at Jack's bidding Lianza of the brazen throat called
to him to come round to the gate on the north; it was well to observe
due order and ceremony.
The man brought a note signed "Van Vorst," demanding the instant
surrender of the fort. In reply Jack wrote asking for the assurance
that his people, having acted throughout in self defence against the
illegalities of the Societe Cosmopolite, should be guaranteed liberty
to depart, and immunity except against the regular legal process of the
courts. In half an hour the messenger returned with a curt summons to
unconditional surrender. Jack sent back a polite refusal, feeling that
he had now burnt his boats.
Shortly afterwards he saw a party of three white men and about twenty
State soldiers, all armed with rifles, making a tour round the
position, keeping carefully under cover. Through his field-glass Jack
recognized Elbel, one of his subordinates, and one of the officers he
had seen on the steamer. Elbel pointed this way and that with
outstretched hand, and appeared to be talking with some excitement.
Occasionally they came within easy range of the fort, and Barney begged
Jack to let the men fire upon them; but Jack resolutely stuck to his
determination to refrain from provocation.
The party by and by reached a position above the fort, near the spot
whence the abortive barrel-rolling had been started. From this place a
small area of the fort enclosure was open to the view of the enemy.
All at once Jack saw the strange officer take a rifle from one of the
soldiers and raise it to his shoulder. Jack instantly ordered his men,
who were crowding the wall, to drop down out of sight. The officer
fired: there was a moment's silence; then Jack heard a great yell of
rage from the men behind him. Turning, he saw an old woman lying
huddled in the centre of the enclosure. Two calabashes lay near; she
had been crossing the exposed portion of the area to fetch water from
the tank when Van Vorst's bullet struck her. A shout of delight from
the negro soldiers up the hill acclaimed the successful shot of their
officer; the old woman was quite dead.
Jack went hot with rage. And Mr. Arlington, who had witnessed the
officer's action, was stirred out of his usual philosophic calm.
"That is not an act of warfare, Mr. Challoner, but of sheer
savagery--the act of a callous marksman showing off. It invites
reprisal."
"You see how the State treats its subjects, Mr. Arlington. They have
taken cover; it's too late to fire now. But it settles the matter for
me. The State has fired the first shot and killed a non-combatant. I
shall do my best this very night to deal the enemy a staggering blow."