CHAPTER V
TROUBLE BREWING
That was the story of Muata!
The white boys looked and wondered. This man who had been through somany dangers could not be much older than they were. If his storywere true, he had shown endurance, courage, and a force of characterthat set the stamp of greatness upon him as greatness would bereckoned among his kind.
Was it true that he had slain a gorilla with bow and arrow, that hewarred successfully against the Arab slave-hunters? Had he subdued aband of men by sheer force of will?
The boys believed him. They did not stop to ask whether the storywas probable. They formed their opinion upon the manner of theyoung chief--upon his grave dignity, and upon the absence of aboastful spirit.
"If his story is true," said Mr. Hume, "he owes much to his mother."
"Where is your mother?" asked Compton.
"The chief's wife is not a woman," said Muata. "And yet she is awoman. She beguiled them in the forest by pretence of greatsubmission and fear of the woods. So they trusted her to bringfirewood, believing she would not go far from the camp. But she waswatching for sign of the little people. This I know, for shevanished in the woods near the river. And the yellow hunters of menknew not how she had gone; but they left word to people by the riverto say to me that my mother had been carried away in a canoe."
"And what will you do now?"
"See, I am no one--a liver on kindness, a slave at the gate. But intime Muata will return to the place of hiding."
"Better stay with us, Muata. We go into the forest ourselves. Wewill give you food, and teach you how to use the weapon of the Arabhunters. You will hunt for us, work in the canoe for us, and, maybe,we will go with you to your hiding-place."
"The forest is dark and terrible. Why, will my father enter thedarkness with his sons?"
"We go to hunt, and for the love of the woods and the water. Has nota hunter joy in the hunting?"
"I know it;" and the chief observed them intently, as if he wereunpersuaded. "The ways of white men are strange. Muata hunts to keepthe hut supplied with meat, but the white man carries his meat withhim. When he kills he leaves the meat and takes only the horns orthe skin of the thing he has slain. Muata is not a child. When hesees a single vulture in the sky, he knows there are others comingbehind. A white man comes out of the beyond into the black man'scountry. He is soft-spoken; he is a hunter only. Mawoh! and behindhim comes an army."
"What do you know about white men, Muata?"
"The wise men at the hiding-place talked. They knew one such. Helived among them. His ways were strange. He talked with the trees;he sought among the rocks; he communed with spirits. He washarmless, but the wise men said others would follow on his traildoing mischief. So I ask, my father, why do you wish to enter theforest?"
"Because," said Compton, leaning forward, "my father was lost in theforest, and I would find him. Tell me, where is the white man yourold men talked of?"
"The forest takes, the forest keeps," said Muata, lifting a handsolemnly.
"Do you mean," asked the boy, quietly, "that the white man does notlive?"
"The people dealt well by their white man. They gave him food; theycarried water for him, and built his fire. Even I, as a child,carried wood to him and listened at his knees."
"I am not blaming the people; but I want to find the place that iscalled the Place of Rest, where my father lived; perhaps where hedied."
"This, then, is the hunting?" said the chief, softly.
Mr. Hume recognized the suspicion in the altered tone and suavemanner of the chief.
"We have spoken," he said sharply. "We go into the forest to huntand to seek without anger against any. We thought you would haveworked in well with us; but I see you are a man of a crooked mind."
"Softly, my father," said the chief, quietly. "Is it wise that achief should listen to the counsel of strangers without takingthought for his people?"
"We saved the chief's life."
"The chiefs life is his own"--Muata snapped his fingers--"but thesecret of the hiding-place is the life of the people. Go slowly, myfather. Muata would work for you and with you; his shield is yourshield; his eye is your eye; but the secret of the hiding-place isnot his to give away."
"Then you must land here on the bank among your enemies."
The chief glanced at the far-off wooded banks, with lines of smokerising from cooking-fires.
"I have no weapons," he said.
"We cannot help that," said Mr. Hume, with indifference. "Eitheryou agree to take us to the Place of Rest, or you land."
Muata rose up, looked under the flat of his hand all around, thenlet the cotton sheet they had given him slip to the deck. The jackalstarted up, with his ears pricked and his eyes fixed on his master'sface. The chief caught hold of a wire rope and jumped on to therail, where he steadied himself.
"What will you do?" asked Mr. Hume.
Muata turned round and pointed to the otter on his chest.
"You don't mean to say," said Venning, indignantly, "that you aregoing to let him swim ashore? Why, the bank is miles away, and thecrocodiles are in between."
Muata's glance fell on the jackal, and he spoke to it. The animalwhined, then crouched.
"A favour, my father," he said. "If the beast followed me, he wouldbe food for the crocodiles. Place him on land when you reach thebank, for the sake of good hunting."
"I will do so."
The chief took another long glance around, then drew himself up forthe dive.
"Stop," said Mr. Hume.
Muata looked round.
"Your shield is our shield. So be it. We will not ask you to lead usto your hiding-place. Is that so, Compton?"
"When he leads us," said Compton, nodding his head, "it will be athis own will."
"At any rate," muttered Venning, "he has proved himself to be a man;but I wonder if he would have reached the shore?"
As he spoke the jackal howled, and the chief, who was still standingon the rail, slipped and fell with a splash. They ran to the side,and the jackal, with another howl, sprang to the rail and thenceinto the river, where a second or two later it was in the troubledwake of the steamer, beating frantically with its fore paws.
"Man overboard!" shouted Mr. Hume. "Stand by with a rope."
But the Belgian skipper on the little bridge held to his course,while a small knot of coloured passengers aft stood laughing andchattering.
"Stop her, you swab," cried Mr. Hume; then, as the man took nonotice, he ran to the wheel, thrust aside the steersman, and jammedthe wheel over.
The displaced man, with an oath, flung himself at the hunter withthe sympathy of the passengers, who, ceasing their laughter,advanced with menacing cries.
Before the boys had time to comprehend the situation, Mr. Humesettled the matter out of hand. Letting go the wheel, he caught hisassailant by the waistband, and with a heave flung him overboard.Then with a quick right and left he sent two of the others reeling.
"Now," he roared at the skipper, "back her, or by the Lord I'llfling you in as well."
"Fetch the rifles," said Compton to Venning.
A moment later the two boys stood at the ready with their rifles,and amid a babel of cries the skipper signaled "Stop her." Thesteamer slowed up, swung gently round, and shaped back to wherethree dark spots showed.
"There are four," cried Venning, at his first swift glance; "and oneis a crocodile. It is making for the jackal."
"Take the wheel, Compton," said Mr. Hume, quite calm again. "Give meyour gun, Venning."
The hunter, with the gun, went to the side and looked over. Nearesthim was the man he had thrown overboard; beyond was the jackal,making a great splashing; and further on was the face of Muata, whowas crying out encouragement to his faithful companion as he swamswiftly towards it; and to the left, moving rapidly towards thejackal, was the crocodile, swimming in a great swirl, with only hiseyes showing, and the end of his snout. The hunter steadied himselfwith a shoulder agai
nst a stanchion, and then, without hurry orexcitement, and after a look round the deck at the people, to see ifthere was any further mischief brewing, took deliberate aim andfired.
A shout went up, and the very people who had a minute before been sohostile, now were abject in their praise of Mr. Hume, for thecrocodile span round and round in answer to the shot.
"Stand by with a rope, Mr. Compton," cried the hunter, takingcommand as if by right; and Compton obeyed promptly, but withoutexcitement.
The first man caught the line and swarmed up wet, but subdued inspirit, casting an appealing glance at his late assailant. Muata, inthe mean time, reached the half-drowned jackal, held it by thescruff of the neck with one hand, and, turning over on his back,waited for the rope. This flung and seized, he also climbed onboard, but there was nothing abject in his appearance. Standing withhis head thrown back and his nostrils quivering, he glared a momentat the group of natives; then, seizing a bar of iron, he made abound forward, uttering a wild war-whoop.
There would have been bloodshed had not Mr. Hume, with surprisingquietness, flung himself forward and seized the chief round thewaist.
Compton, cool and ready, wrenched the bar away; and, seeing this,the natives plucked up spirit, calling on the white man to throw the"black dog" to the crocodiles, which had been attracted by the bloodof their wounded fellow, still beating the water in his flurry.
Venning, however, stepped between with his rifle, and the uproarceased once more.
"Now," said Mr. Hume, holding the chief by his arm, "what does thismean? What harm have those men done you?"
"My father has the lion's grip. Mawoh! Muata was a babe in hisarms."
"That may be, but it is no answer."
"What harm! Did not my father hear the jackal give tongue?"
"I heard; and those jackals there"--indicating the watching group--"yelped at me, so that I flung one into the water. But--what then?Do you seek to slay when your beast howls?"
"My father does not know, then."
"I want to know, for it seems to me you were all mad together."
"Ohe! it is the madness that slays. Ask of those mudfish there fornews of the man who stood behind them to slay Muata, who had the gunaimed to shoot when Muata leapt into the water. Ask them, and theywill lie."
"What manner of man was this?"
"One of those who hound me in the canoe--even one of the man-hunterswho seized my mother."
Mr. Hume looked at the boys. "Did either of you see an Arab onboard? Muata says a man was about to fire at him when he sprangoverboard."
"I thought he fell," said Compton. "I saw no one with a gun."
"Nor I," said Venning; "but the Arab may have gone below."
Mr. Hume hailed the captain. "My man said an attempt was made on hislife. Have you taken an Arab onboard?"
"I have some mad English on board," said the captain, gruffly; "andI will see they do not stay on longer than I can help."
"As to that we will see."
The captain nodded his head and signaled full speed ahead, turninghis back on the Englishman.
"I think we can manage the lot," said Compton, coolly.
Mr. Hume laughed. "Perhaps so; but it would be very awkward to bedetained at the next station as prisoners, or to be sent back. Wemust let the matter slide."
"Shall we search the ship, sir?"
Mr. Hume shook his head. "Suppose we found some suspiciouspassenger. What then? There was no actual attempt on Muata, and wehave only his word; besides"--and he glanced at the angry captain--"there is no need to look for trouble--it will come."
He was right. At the next station, reached within a few hours, thecaptain lodged a complaint to the authorities in the persons of theBelgian officials, who were evidently charmed with the opportunityof teaching the Englishmen a lesson.
First of all, they placed Muata in chains straight away on theirfinding that he was a dangerous person. When Mr. Hume protested,they placed him under restraint; and that done, they pronouncedjudgment. The English would pay a fine of Pounds 100, surrendertheir weapons, and return to Banana Point by the next steamer down.
"Is that all?"
"That is all. But stay. As you will be possibly detained afortnight, there would be a charge for maintenance."
"Be good enough," said Mr. Hume, producing a document, "to readthat paper. It is a passport from the President of the Congo State--your king--authorizing Mr. Hume and party to proceed with hisservants by land or water anywhere within the State for purposes ofexploration."
The officers examined the document with sour faces, and one of themmade an observation in a low tone.
"Precisely," said the other. "This document," he remarked, turningto Mr. Hume, "is not in order. It has not been visaed by theofficers at the sub-stations."
"But it was initialed by your superior at the coast."
"It must go back to the sub-stations for endorsement."
Mr. Hume put a restraint on his temper. "And how long will thattake?"
"Who knows? Perhaps a month."
"And in the mean time?"
"In the mean time, m'sieur, you will remain our guests."
"Is there no other way?"
"Monsieur must surrender himself to the unpleasant delay. There isno other way." "Unless--but m'sieur would not perhaps face theexpense."
"Explain, gentlemen."
"There is a special transport for State business, but to call uponthe service for other than State purpose there would be a charge often pounds per day."
"I see." Mr. Hume saw that these gentlemen wished to make money outof him. "Very good. I will myself go to the sub-stations by yourspecial transport, and if the Governor says the charge isreasonable, I will pay on my return. I think that will meet thematter."
But it did not at all meet the matter, and the junior officer atonce informed his senior that unhappily the special transport hadthat very morning developed a leak in the boiler.
There followed an embarrassing delay. The authorities waited for Mr.Hume to make a business-like proposal, but the hunter remainedgrimly silent. The two officers whispered.
"Observe, m'sieur," said the senior, clearing his throat, "mycolleague suggests a middle way. If you will place sum demanded bythe State in these cases, in the nature of a surety for good faith,we may permit you and your friends to proceed."
"My servant also?"
"Your servant?"
"The man you have bound."
"Ohe! Pardon, m'sieur; you are not aware that he is an offenderagainst the laws--a notorious criminal. He will be detained andtried."
"I will remain to attend his trial, unless a sum will secure hisfreedom also?"
"There is a price on his bead."
"Offered by the slave-hunters?"
The shot went home. The officers had been hand in glove with thelawless traders, but they did not want the matter bruited about bymeddlesome Englishmen. They scowled.
"He has broken the peace," said the senior, sharply; "he has slainthe servants of the State. Am I to understand that you claim to behis master, responsible for his conduct?"
"No, m'sieur," exclaimed the hunter, quickly, fearing he had gonetoo far, and shifting his ground. "The man is a stranger; do withhim as you please; but as for us, since we are here, we will, withyour permission, make the place our headquarters. We could not be inbetter hands."
"You wish to wait for another steamer while your passports arevisaed?"
"We will proceed in our own boat, which we would put together."
"Ah, you have a little boat?"
"A very small boat, m'sieur, with barely room for four men. Weshould be honoured to have your opinion on its qualities, and alsoupon our stores and their suitability."
Venning looked at Mr. Hume with puzzled eyes. He could notunderstand his callous abandonment of Muata.
"But," he began, "we cannot----"
"I think it is an excellent place," said Compton, quickly; "andperhaps these gentlemen would be good enough to
assist us withadvice out of their great experience."
"We should be delighted," said Mr. Hume, politely.
The senior officer stroked his huge moustache with an air of renewedimportance.
"There are two spare rooms in my little house," murmured the junior--"one for the stores, the other for sleeping quarters."
"It is understood," said Mr. Hume, "that we pay rent, and also thatwe pay for the protection you may afford us. I insist on that,messieurs."
The senior nodded a dignified assent, but he was not quite won over,and retired to his quarters, while his junior inspected the landingof the goods, including the sections of the boat. In the afternoon,however, after his nap, the senior succumbed to the influence of agood cigar, and condescended to sample some of the stores. He waseven pleased to crack a few jokes over the novel machinery forworking the screw of the Okapi by levers, and in the evening heinvited Mr. Hume to a friendly game of cards, thoughtfully includingin his invitation a bottle of brandy and a box of cigars, for, saidhe, he wished to wash out the execrable taste of the everlastingmanioc.
All the day Muata stood bound to a post in the square, the centralfigure of a ring of squatting natives, who chewed manioc anddiscussed his approaching fate with much satisfaction.
He was there, an erect, stoical figure, when the boys sought theirroom in the little thatched house--a room bare of furniture, dividedfrom the next compartment by hanging mats of native make.
"It's a beastly shame," said Venning, for about the fourth time, ashe stared out at the black faces reflected in the blazing log-fires.
"What is a shame?" asked Compton, who was inspecting the partitionbefore seeking his hammock.
"You know well enough. Not a soul stands by the chief; even hisjackal bolted as soon as he jumped ashore."
"Because Muata ordered him. He is probably watching from the dark."
"All the worse for us, then. I never thought Mr. Hume would haveknuckled down so easily. Hark at him shouting over the game."
"What is the game, do you think?"
"Cards," snorted Venning, in disgust.
"So! Queer sort of partition this;" and Compton moved the mat aside."No need for doors, you see. Hulloa! Who are you?"
"Me Zanzibar boy, master," exclaimed a soft, oily voice.
"Then clear out."
"Me put here watch my master--see black fellows no steal."
"Oh, I see. Chuck a cake of tobacco, Venning. Here! You like that?"
"Ver good," said the boy, reaching out a yellow hand for thetobacco.
Venning crossed over and peered into the other room. "You boy," hesaid, "tell me, what will they do to Muata?"
The Zanzibari chuckled. "You want know, eh?"
"We don't care. One black fellow does not matter," said Compton,coolly.
"You brute!" muttered Venning, but stopped as Compton's hand grippedhim.
The Zanzibari chuckled again. "What you give, eh, if cut loose thatMuata?"
"What do you say?"
"You pay me? Good. In night Muata is loose. He run up river. Bymbymaster go along in little boat, pick Muata up, eh? What you pay?"and the boy chuckled softly.
"Suppose I tell your white master, you rascal?"
"Wow! You tell, they kill poor Zanzibar boy."
"Then clear out," said Compton, launching a kick; "and if I see anymore of you I will tell."
The boy turned sulky. "Me guard--me stay."
"You go," said Compton, "or I will call your masters, and let themdeal with you."
Growling under his breath, the self-styled "guard" slunk soft-footedout of the room. Compton struck a match and looked around theapartment, then turned to Venning with a grin.
"That is the game," he whispered.
"I think I understand," Venning replied softly. "That fellow wastesting you?"
Compton nodded.
"And you think Mr. Hume has not forgotten Muata?"
"I am sure he has not."
They crept into their hammocks, but not to sleep, and they were wideawake when Mr. Hume entered noisily some two hours later.
"To-morrow night," he shouted boisterously.
"With pleasure, and the night after, for good visitors are rare,"called the Belgian.
"And good hosts also. Touching those two men you promised as thecrew for my boat?"
"They will be here to-morrow evening," said the senior officer,thrusting a head round the mat. "Ah, you are comfortable, eh? Yes, Isent a messenger to Hassan's camp by the vessel which brought you.Rest well."
"They are good fellows, these Arabs," said Mr. Hume, withenthusiasm--"good fellows. I remember once----"
"To-morrow night," said the officer, as he withdrew, laughing.
Mr. Hume hummed cheerfully as he prepared for bed, taking no noticeof his young comrades, who were regarding him with silentdisfavour. With one yawn after another he blew out the light, andstruggled into his hammock, to fall asleep almost at once.
Venning's uneasiness returned. He tossed restlessly, listening tothe unaccustomed noises from without, and as the hours went by, andat last the sound of talking about the fires died off in a lazydrone, the desire to see what had become of Muata was too strong toresist. Softly he lowered himself to the earth-floor, but, soft ashe moved, others had heard.
"Are the mosquitoes troublesome?"
Venning started at the deep voice so unexpected. "I did not know youwere awake, sir."
"I sleep very lightly my boy."
"As you are awake, sir, I would like to say----"
But he stopped as the mat rustled.
"Come in," said Mr. Hume.
"Me guard, great master"--in the same soft, oily tones Venning hadheard before. "Hear noise. Think may be thieves."
"Mosquitoes, not thieves," said Mr. Hume, quietly. "Bring a light."
The Zanzibar boy complied, and, holding a taper above his head,looked not for mosquitoes, but at the rifles in the corner.
"The skeeters, master," he muttered, with an evil squint at Compton,who was blinking at the light.
"Better get back into your hammock, Venning. You can go, boy; andkeep a good watch, for we are coming to the thieves' hour."
The man showed his white teeth in a grin as he withdrew.
"Don't stir from your hammocks until I do," said Mr. Hume, verysternly, in a whisper; then louder, "Good night, Venning."
"Good night, sir," said Venning, convinced that the master was aliveto the game, and more easy in his mind.
As he dropped off to sleep he heard the wail of a jackal, and nexthe was awakened by the sound of a native chanting. It was alreadydaybreak, and Mr. Hume stood on the verandah, having drawn the matsaside.
The sun, striking under the thatch, shone on the hunter's tawny hairand beard, and Venning wondered how for a moment he could havedoubted the courage of a man with such a lion-like head. But he wasto receive another shock.
"Silence, dog!" roared the hunter, addressing the singer, evidently.
Compton, who was sitting on his hammock dressing, looked out.
"By Jove," he muttered, "he's shouting at Muata!"
Venning jumped down to the floor and looked out. Muata was stillbound to the post, and, with his face to the sun, was chanting hiswords of greeting or of farewell in tones that lacked the deepchest-notes of his war-cry.
One of the natives, hearing the order of the white man, flung astick at the chief with an insult; but Muata, nothing heeding, sangon his slow song in a voice that was almost like a woman's.
"Must white men lose their sleep because a robber is to die?" roaredthe hunter again.
Venning snatched up a beaker of water and ran out barefooted. Heheld the water to the chiefs mouth. Muata turned his smoulderingeyes on the boy, sucked in a mouthful of the water, and then shot itout over Venning's outstretched arm.
Venning dropped the mug, and went back with a red face to see thetwo officers regarding him with sour faces.
"Serve you right," shouted Mr. Hume, in apparent fury
. "When willyou learn to treat a black like the brute he is?"
"Quite so," said the senior officer, showing himself. "I am glad tofind you have no ridiculous sentiment."
"Ah! good morning, my friend," said Mr. Hume, heartily. "As for myyoung comrade, you must pardon him."
"He has his lesson," said the officer, dryly, as he pointed to thesoaked pyjama.
"The man woke me with his singing. I have seen men shot for lessthan that."
"In good time," said the officer, with a sinister look, "theaccusers will be here to-night, and to-morrow"--he made a gesture--"to-morrow you can also choose the two men you need for your boat'screw."
After breakfast, Mr. Hume had an opportunity of speaking without thefear of being overheard, for they finished putting the Okapitogether, and worked her out by the levers into the river, where shegleamed in the sun.
"I dare say you think I am a brute," he said, "and I don't blameyou; but if we mean to save Muata's life, we must appear to bealtogether indifferent to his fate. Those men are keeping a closewatch on us."
"I know it," said Compton.
"You do, eh?"
"That Zanzibar boy was spying on us last night before you came, andhe tried to get us to bribe him to free Muata."
"I hope you were not so foolish as to fall into the trap?" said thehunter, sharply.
"I kicked him out of the place," said Compton. "I told Venning youwere playing a game for Muata's life."
"You did me justice?" said Mr. Hume, with his gaze on Venning.
"It seemed to me terrible to leave him without a word ofencouragement," said the boy; "but I am awfully sorry I doubted you,sir."
"You don't now, eh? Well, that's all right, and I think the chiefknows too. That is why he spouted the water over you."
"A strange way of showing his gratitude," laughed the boy, with areddening face at the thought of the outrage.
"Not so strange. He saw the Belgians, and did it to put them offtheir guard."
"That ought to help us in our plans for his escape."
"We have plans, have we?"
"You have," said Compton, confidently; "and your plan is our plan."
"Thank you," said the hunter, quietly. "If the plan is to succeed,it must work to-night. I do not fear these people here, but I mustsay I fear the Arabs who are expected this evening."
"I understand that you will choose two of those Arabs as boatmen?"
"The Belgians have arranged that, Compton, not I. Have you anysuggestions to offer?"
"I think, sir, that we should get all our things stored in the boatto-day," said Venning.
"Eight; and then?"
"And then," said Venning, his face all alight with ardour--"andthen--why, sir, then you shoot one of the hippos over there on thatlittle island. Shoot two; and while all the people in the villageare cutting them up for a great feed, we could free Muataundetected."
"That is not so bad," said Compton, judiciously.
"Not at all," said Mr. Hume. "But when Muata is free, what is tobecome of him--suppose, that is, he can get away unobserved?"
"I have it," said Compton. "The Zanzibar spy suggested it. Let Muatawait for us up the river, and we will pick him up."
Mr. Hume stroked his beard for some moments in silence.
"We'll, try that plan," he said finally; "but don't show anyexcitement. The native, remember, is a very keen observer. Now pullthe boat in."