CHAPTER X
THE CAST OF THE DIE
An hour after the white men's return, they watched from their hut thefuneral procession winding towards the gate. Some of the younger menled the way; then followed four bearers, with the body of the dead chiefencased in his sleeping-mat. Behind marched his relatives and the wholeof the population of the enclosure, the men wearing toweringhead-dresses of feathers, the women carrying small branches.
'Shall we follow?' asked Hoole.
'Perhaps the people would like it,' replied Trentham.
But when they reached the gate at the tail of the procession they werestopped by the interpreter.
'New chief he say no come alonga,' said he. 'Me fella people say oldchief he die alonga you; all proper mad.'
'That accounts for their scowls as we came in,' remarked Trentham. 'Isuppose the medicine-man accuses us of giving the evil eye. But the newchief, whoever he is, evidently doesn't want us to be pulled to pieces.'
'Things are going from bad to worse,' said Hoole. 'Our news won't makethem better pleased with us. I guess there 'll be trouble.'
The death of the chief and the absence of his son had in fact kindled aslumbering spark of revolt in the Papuan community. A chief in NewGuinea at no time wields great authority over his tribe, and theprestige of the dominant caste had already fallen low. Authority wasassumed by a cousin of the dead man, but he had no moral qualities tosupport it. After the funeral, when Trentham reported to him, throughthe interpreter, the capture of the outpost, his agitation bordered onhysteria. The Papuans already connected their recent misfortunes withthe arrival of the white men, who, they declared, were in league withthe white men from the ship, and were responsible for the capture oftheir leader Kafulu and the late chief's son. The disappearance of theoutpost would confirm their dark suspicions, and the fact that Meek alsohad gone would seem to them proof of collusion.
Trentham offered to relieve the chief of anxiety by quitting the placewith his companions, but this suggestion only increased his distress,and it dawned upon Trentham that he was inclined to cling to the whitemen as upholders of his feebleness. How feeble he was became apparentbefore Trentham left the house. A number of the Papuans came to theouter gate and demanded an interview with their new chief. On beingadmitted, their spokesman recounted the disasters that had befallen thetribe since the strangers came, and insisted on the two younger menbeing given to them for a cannibal feast. Was it not the custom, theyasked, within the memory of the elder men, for a sacrifice to be made onthe death of a chief? The victims were at hand. As for the fat man whobore the totem mark on his shoulder, they must spare him, but being awhite man he must be sent away; let him go into the forest.
The chief was on the point of yielding, in the hope of gainingpopularity with his unruly subjects, when one of the elder patriciansinterposed. The late chief had spared the white men, he said; they werefriends of Flanso, who would rightfully have succeeded his father; andif Flanso returned he would certainly vent his wrath on any one who didthem harm. This firm stand on the part of a man of weight caused theunstable chief to veer. With an effort to assume a firm and dignifiedattitude he dismissed the deputation, who retired in undisguiseddissatisfaction and anger.
It was only after they had departed that Trentham learnt from theinterpreter what their object had been, and how their request had beenreceived. Watching the scene intently, he had noted the indecision ofthe chief and the mischief that blazed in the eyes of the Papuans.
'I 'm afraid there 's trouble brewing,' he said on returning to his hut.'The new chief's a man of straw; he 'll give way to the cannibals one ofthese times, and then----'
'I guess we won't wait for that,' said Hoole. 'We should be no worseoff in the forest, and I vote we clear out one dark night and take ourchance.'
'What about Ephraim, sir?' asked Grinson. 'I say nothing about you twogentlemen, but only speak for myself, and I swear I won't leave these'ere parts without Ephraim.'
'Sure,' said Hoole. 'I 'm with you all the time. But you 'll allow itrequires a little consideration, Grinson, and my proposition is that weall put on our thinking caps and see if we can hit on one of thosecunning plots you read of in story-books. I only wish I had a pipe.Smoke clears the air.'
Trentham smiled; Grinson opened his tobacco-box.
'Chewing won't do the trick, I suppose, sir,' he said. 'I 've enoughtwist for two quids.'
'No, no; I 've never chewed anything hotter than gum,' said Hoole.'Keep your baccy, man. I say, it's time for our supper. They 're latethis evening. Do they keep a fast after a funeral?'
'I fancy I hear 'em coming now, sir. Maybe it's an extra spread.'
But the native brought only the food to which they were accustomed, andof which they were heartily tired. It was dark by the time they hadfinished their meal. They had no light, but they squatted on theirmats, chatting quietly until sleepiness should steal upon them. Thesounds from beyond the stockade died down as usual; it seemed, indeed,that stillness had fallen upon the village earlier than on any previousnight. Grinson was the first to close his eyes; the other two werestill talking in low tones when a sudden commotion from the direction ofthe gate caused them to spring up and rush to the doorway, where Grinsonimmediately joined them. They could see nothing in the darkness, butthe cries of the two men who always stood on guard were drowned by achorus of savage yells. Men were heard rushing across the enclosure;then came the whistling of spears and sharp cracks of clubs falling onsolid skulls.
'The beggars outside are attacking the stockade,' said Trentham.
''Tis rank mutiny and rebellion,' growled Grinson. 'Shall we lend ahand, sir?'
Hoole had whipped out his revolver.
'Hold hard,' said Trentham; 'we may want that for a later occasion. Ithink we had better let them fight it out. For one thing, we 're notused to their weapons; then, if we take sides, we 're hopelessly donewith the Papuans, and shouldn't dare to show our faces among them.'
'But we 'll have to fight for our lives if they break in,' said Hoole.'We might get away now.'
'I don't think they 'll break in. The stockade 's very stout. Don'tyou think we might turn the crisis to account?'
'How do you mean?'
'Let us wait a little and see how the fight goes. Whichever side wins,I think we may have a trump card.'
They stood listening to the din, which appeared to be concentrated inthe neighbourhood of the gate. It lasted only a few minutes. Thesentries had detected the stealthy approach of the Papuans in the nickof time. The stockade was manned before the attack gathered force; itsstout timbers resisted all the onslaughts of the undisciplined savages,who drew off, baffled, carrying away those who had been disabled by theweapons of the defenders.
'Now 's the time for us to chip in,' said Trentham. 'It's clear that weare responsible, partly at any rate, for the situation. The Papuanssuspect us of complicity with the Germans; they are angry because theycan't feast on us; and they believe it's due to us that their friendshave been captured. The present chief is no good; he 'll either give wayto them in the end, or will ultimately be beaten by sheer weight ofnumbers. Nothing will restore the position but the return of therightful chief--that young fellow Flanso.'
'Who 's a prisoner,' remarked Hoole.
'Exactly. Well, we must rescue him and the other prisoners, includingMeek. By that means we shall please everybody.'
'You 've got a plan?'
'An idea came into my head suddenly just now when the fight was goingon. With care and luck it may work. If you like it, I 'll go and seethe chief, and we can start to-morrow.'
During the next twenty minutes the three men were engaged in an earnestdiscussion. Then Trentham made his way to the chief's house, where mostof the important men of the community were assembled. Half an hourlater he returned to his friends.
'It's all right,' he said. 'By Jove! talking pidgin is the most tirin
gjob I know. In the morning the chief will make an oration at the gate.He 's not at all keen on his new job, and would like to see Flanso back.He believes the rebels will be willing to give us a chance. Then it'sup to us.'
The chief turned out to be better as an orator than as a man ofaction--Cicero rather than Coriolanus, as Trentham suggested. Hisspeech brought about an instant change of feeling in the Papuans. Ifthe white men restored Kafulu and his comrades to them, they would letbygones be bygones. If Flanso also was restored to his people, theywould dutifully accept his authority.
Two hours after sunrise the whole population, a silent throng, gatheredat the sides of the track to watch the white men start on theirenterprise. Three stalwart natives accompanied them, each of whomcarried, wound about his body, a long coil of grass rope. Grinson washimself again.
'Good-bye, old ugly mug,' he cried as he passed the man who haddiscovered his totem mark. 'Wait till the clouds roll by. Farewell,sweet maid'--to a hideous old woman; 'for they all love Jack, and you'll meet us coming back, and there 'll be dancing with the lasses on thegreen, oh! It pleases 'em, sir,' he said, apologetically, to Trentham,'though they don't understand, poor heathens. But I 've been told I 'vegot a very good singing voice.'
'Let's hope you won't sing another tune before the day 's over,' saidTrentham.