CHAPTER XV.
A NATURAL GRAVE.
THE single shot from our opponents was quickly replied to by myself andmy companions, and we had the satisfaction of seeing half-a-dozen Arabsfall backward from the path and disappear in the soft sand. Instantly therattle of musketry was deafening, and over my head bullets whistledunpleasantly close. The weapon with which I was armed was old-fashioned,and as I fired it time after time it grew hot, and the smoke became sothick that everything was obscured.
Meanwhile fierce hand-to-hand fighting was taking place between thevanguard of the Arabs and a dozen of our men led by Omar. Fiendish yellsand shouts sounded on every side as they hacked at each other with theirlong curved knives, each fearing to step aside lest he should beswallowed by the sand. Once or twice, as the chill night wind parted thesmoke, I saw Omar and our Dagombas struggling bravely against fearfulodds. Omar had cast aside his gun and, armed with a keen _jambiyah_, hadengaged two tall, muscular Arabs, both of whom he succeeded in hurlingfrom the path, gashed and bleeding, to instant death.
Those behind him, armed with long spears with flat double-edged pointssimilar to the assegais of the Zulus, were enabled to reach and dispatchseveral of the Arabs who had lost their guns or discarded their pistolsfor their knives. Situated as we were on the angle of the secret path theenemy were to our right. Their fire upon us was very hot and effective.Their aim was so true and their bullets so deadly, that very soon fully adozen of our brave escort had sunk wounded, disappearing in the terriblesea of sand.
Suddenly a noise sounded about me like the swish of the sea, startling mefor a second, but instantly I saw what had caused it. The Dagombas hadlet loose a flight of poisoned arrows upon our opponents.
From that moment their fire became weaker, and time after time mycompanions, kneeling upon the ground, drew their bows and released thoseterrible darts, the slightest scratch from which produced tetanus andalmost instant death. Each arrow was smeared with a dark red substance,and their deadly effect was sufficiently proved by the manner in whichthe ranks of Samory's men were soon decimated. Dozens of Arabs, touchedby the poisonous darts, staggered unevenly, and falling to earth sankinto the unstable sand, while the red flash of their line of musketsvisibly decreased.
Around Omar our men pressed valiantly, and several with bows dischargedtheir missiles with fatal effect, sweeping away the Arabs one by one andapparently striking terror into the hearts of the others. Arabs are notso vulnerable by arrows as other people on account of their voluminousrobes, which savage weapons seldom penetrate, it being only head, legsand hands that arrows can reach. Nevertheless so full were the quivers ofour sable escort, that the flights were of sufficient magnitude to reachthe unprotected parts of the Arabs and lay dozens of them low.
One native next me, whose bow had constantly been bent, suddenly receiveda bullet full in the breast and was knocked backward off his feet by theconcussion. So swiftly was he swallowed by the shifting sand, that ere Icould glance behind he had already been buried. Of all who fell, not asingle body remained, for if they dropped dead upon the path they werepushed aside in the _melee_ and instantly disappeared. Again and againour companions sent up their shrill yells and the war-drum was thumpedwith ear-piercing effect, while opposition shouts rose from our Arabenemies. Still the fight continued as stubborn as it had begun. Omar,with loud shouts of encouragement, fought on with unerring hand, cutting,thrusting and hacking at his opponents until they stumbled to their doom,while across our line of vision where the fire of Arab musketry blazed inthe choking smoke, the thin deadly arrows sped, striking our enemies andsweeping them into a natural grave.
Fearing to tread lest I should fall into the terrible quicksand, I kneltand kept up a continuous fire with my musket, shooting into the densesmoke whenever I saw the flash of an Arab gun. It was exciting work, notknowing from one second to another whether the ping of a bullet wouldbring death. Still I knew that to save our own lives we must sweep awaythe host of invaders, and, reassured by the knowledge that Omar had metwith no mishap, I kept on, heedless of all dangers, thinking only of theultimate rout of our enemy.
How long the terrible fight lasted I know not. We stood our ground, themajority of us kneeling, engaging the Arabs in mortal combat for, Ibelieve, considerably over an hour. Several times the firing seemed sostrong that I feared we should be vanquished, nevertheless the Dagombasproved themselves a valiant, stubborn race, well versed in savagewarfare, for the manner in which they shot their arrows was admirable,and even at the decisive moment when all seemed against us they neverwavered, but kept on, fierce and revengeful as in the first moments ofthe fight.
Gradually, when Omar's voice had been heard a dozen times urging us on tosweep every invader from our path and not to let a single man escape, wefound our enemy's fire slackening. The smoke, moved by the sand-ladenwind that swept across the plain each night after sundown, became lessdense, and at last we realized that the tide of battle had turned in ourfavour, and that we were conquerors.
Then, loud fierce yells rose from the Dagombas and with one accord westruggled to our feet. Each with his hand upon the shoulder of hiscompanion in front we moved cautiously forward, shooting now and then aswe went. But the reply to our fire was now spasmodic, and we wereconvinced that only a few of the Arabs survived.
For some minutes we ceased the struggle and moved forward, but suddenly,to our amazement, a long line of muskets again blazed forth upon us,committing serious havoc in our ranks. We were victims of a ruse!
This aroused the anger of the Dagombas, who recommenced the fight withalmost demoniacal fierceness, and as the van of both forces struggledhand-to-hand, we found ourselves slowly but surely gaining ground untilhalf an hour later we were standing upon the path where our enemies hadstood when they had attacked us, and of that long line of Samory's pickedfighting-men not a single survivor remained.
We had given no quarter. All had been swallowed in that awful gulf ofever-shifting sand. When we had thoroughly convinced ourselves of this wethrew ourselves down upon the narrow pathway, and slept heavily tilldawn.
When I awoke and gazed eagerly around, I saw that although a number ofour men were wounded, their limbs being hastily bandaged, yet few weremissing. Of our enemies, however, all had either fallen wounded, or hadbeen hurled from the secret path and overwhelmed by the sand.
A high wind constantly blew, and I noticed that this kept the grains ofsand always in motion, thus preventing the surface from solidifying.Waves appeared every moment, ever changing and disappearing in a manneramazing. At one moment a high ridge would be seen before us, appearing asa formidable obstacle to our progress, yet a moment later it would beswept away by an invisible force.
The rosy flush of dawn had been superseded by the saffron tints that areprecursory of the sun's appearance when we moved forward again on ourcautious march. Our companions, though far from fresh and many of themseriously wounded, were all in highest spirits and full of theirbrilliant victory. It had indeed been a gratifying achievement, and now,feeling that at least their gods were favourable to their journey, theypushed forward with eyes scanning the far-off horizon where lay themysterious realm.
During our march that day, Kona, the headman of the Dagombas, on accountof three men behind me having fallen in the fight, occupied a placeimmediately at my rear, and thus I was enabled to hold conversation withhim.
"It was a near thing, that fight last night," he exclaimed in thelanguage that Omar had taught me. "But our arrows wrought surer executionthan the Arab bullets. The desert-dwellers are no match for theforest-people."
"No," I answered. "Your men are indeed brave fellows, and are entitled tosubstantial reward."
"I have no fear of that," he said. "The great Naya is always just. Shestretches forth her powerful hand to protect the weaker tribes, andsmites the raiders with sword and pestilence. What her son promises isher promise. Her word is never broken."
"Have you ever seen her?" I inquired.
"Never. Our k
ing once saw one of her messengers who brought the royalstaff and made palaver. To us, as to all other men outside her country,she is known as the Great White Queen."
"Tell me what more you know of her?" I urged.
"Very little," he answered. "In every part of the land, from the greatblack waters to the Niger and far beyond, even to the sun-scorchedcountry of the Maghrib, her fame is known to all men. She is rich, mightyand mysterious. Her power is dreaded throughout the forests and thegrass-plains, and it is said that in her wrath her voice is so terriblethat even the mountains quake with fear."
"By what means do her fighting-men come forth from her unapproachableland?" I inquired, remembering that we were travelling by the secret wayknown only to herself and Omar.
"I know not," he replied. "The manner in which the hosts of Mo appear anddisappear have, from time immemorial, formed a subject of speculationamong our people. That they have appeared on the Ashanti border andsacked and burned many towns in retaliation for some outrages committedby the Ashantis upon our people is well-known, but by what route theycame or returned is a mystery. Some say they came like flocks of birdsthrough the air; others declare that they can transfer themselves fromone place to another and become invisible at will. Neither of thesetheories I myself believe, for I am convinced that between the land of Moand the Great Salt Road there exists a secret means of communication, sothat the armies of the Naya can appear so suddenly and unexpectedly as toescape the vigilance of their enemy's scouts. Many are the battles theyhave fought and great the slaughter. In the slave-land of Samory theyengaged twelve moons ago the pick of the Arab army, and defeated themwith appalling loss. It is said, too, that they carry some of the strangeguns made by your people, the white men."
"You mean Maxims," I said.
"I know not their name, nor have I ever seen one," he answered. "I haveheard, however, from a Sofa who fought against the English in the lastwar, that the weapons are so light that a man can easily carry one, andthat when fired they shed streams of bullets like water from a spout. Asingle gun is equal to the fire of two hundred men. Truly you white menpossess many marvels."
"Yes," I said, smiling at his unbounded admiration for the weapon. "Butis it not strange that the Naya should also possess similar marvels?"
"No. Everything is strange in the land of the Great White Queen. It issaid to be a country full of amazing mysteries. Many are theextraordinary stories related by my people of the wonders of Mo; wondersthat we shall ere long witness with our own eyes."
"What are the stories?" I asked, keenly interested. "Tell me one."
"There are so many," he answered, "I do not know which one to tell. One,however, will illustrate the awe with which the Naya is regarded, even bythe powerful Prempeh, King of Ashanti. A story is current that one day,many moons ago, the King had ordered a great 'custom' to take place inKumassi. War had been declared against the Queen of the English, and inorder to obtain the good graces of the fetish a thousand slaves wereordered to be sacrificed. All was ready and the king sat upon his stoolawaiting the decapitation of the first victim, when suddenly there sweptdown from above a large white dove, which, after circling for a momentabove the monarch's umbrella, perched upon the edge of the executionbowl. The executioner swept it aside with his ready sword, but in aninstant, by some invisible power, the broad-bladed weapon fused andmelted as if in a furnace, while the executioner himself, struck down asif by lightning, fell upon his face stone dead. Still the dove remainedwhere it had perched with its head turned towards the ruler of theAshantis. A second executioner, ere it was discovered that the first wasdead, struck at the bird with his hand, and he too, as well as a thirdand fourth, were similarly smitten with death. 'It is an evil omen!' thepeople cried, and Prempeh, his eyes rivetted upon the white,innocent-looking bird, trembled. Suddenly, one of the sages at the king'sright hand cried: 'See, O Master! It is the Great White Queen, the rulerof Mo! She taketh the form of a dove when she seeketh the destruction ofher enemies!' Then spake the dove, saying: 'Yea, O hated king whosheddeth the blood of the innocent and exalteth the guilty. The sacrificeof victims to the fetish shall not avail thee, for I, Naya of Mo, tellthee that thy downfall is at hand, and thine enemies the English willpress their way from the great sea, bridge the Prah, and cut a roadacross the great forest to this thy capital, where thou shalt make abjectsubmission to their head-man and shall be carried into degradingcaptivity by them. Thy treasures shall be seized, the tombs of thyfathers shall be opened and desecrated, thy fetish-trees shall be cutdown and thy slaves shall revel in thy palace. And it is I, in my presentform, who shall guide the white men unto their victory.' The king,dumbfounded at these ominous words proceeding from the beak of a bird,rose to retort, but ere a word left his mouth the dove spread its wingsand flew away northward in the direction of the land we are nowapproaching."
"That's merely a tale," I observed, laughing at this latest illustrationof the African's belief in the impossible.
"Of course. You asked me for one of the stories told by our people," Konasaid. "I have told you one."
"Do you believe that this Great White Queen is invested with suchextraordinary power that she can cause herself to be invisible, and whilebringing destruction to her enemies, assist her friends?" I asked.
"I know not what to believe," he replied in honest bewilderment. "So manyare the tales I have heard that I find it impossible to believe all, andhave ended by disbelieving most. Many of the men with us firmly believeat this moment that the Naya, invisible, is at our head guiding her sonacross the Way of the Thousand Steps, and that to her our victory lastnight was due. Our fate lies in her hands."
"Well," I answered, amused, "it matters not who leads us so long as weenter the promised land. At any rate we could have no better nor moretrustworthy guide than he who is at our head."
Next second, a loud cry from Omar attracted our attention.