Long Odds

He stopped a moment, and smiled a trifle dryly. "Now, we know that Domingo is a thief, for he has often cheated you, and it is certain that he is a friend of the white men. I have told you at other times that you are fools to trade with him. If a man is in debt or has done some wrong you part with him for this trader's goods. The rum is drunk, the cloth wears out, but the man lives on, and every day's work he does on the white men's plantations makes them richer and stronger. As they grow richer they grow greedier, and by and by they will not be satisfied with a man or two from among you. You will have made them strong enough to take you all. That, however, is not the question in the meanwhile. I think it may have happened, as this stranger says, that Domingo stole these boys from Lamartine, but even in that case there is a difficulty. The boys are with him, and in this country what a man holds in his hand is his. Perhaps the white man will offer him goods for them. I do not think he would ask too much, at least, if he is wise."

He looked at Ormsgill, who shook his head.

"Not a piece of cloth or a bottle of gin," he said.

There was a little murmur of resentment from the assembly, but Ormsgill saw that his boldness had the effect he had expected upon the man whose suggestion he had disregarded, and he had not acted inadvisedly when he dismissed all idea of compromise. Domingo had influential friends in that village, while, save for the handful of carriers, he and his companion stood alone. He also knew that if misfortune befell them no troublesome questions would be asked by the authorities. The whole enterprise was in one sense a folly, and that being so it was only by a continuance of the rashness he could expect to carry it through. Half measures were, as he realized, generally useless, and often perilous, in an affair of the kind, for there are occasions when one must face disastrous failure or bid boldly for success. Nares also seemed to recognize that fact, for he smiled as he turned to his companion.

"I think you were right," he said.

Then the Headman said something to his Suzerain who made a sign that the audience was over.

"It is a thing that must be talked over," he announced. "We shall, perhaps, know what must be done to-morrow."

Ormsgill acknowledged his gesture, swinging off his shapeless hat, and then led his boys away to the hut one of the Headman's servants pointed out to him. It was old, and had apparently been built for a person of importance for, though this was more usual further east among the dusky Moslem, there was a tall mud wall about it, and a smaller building probably intended for the occupation of the women inside the latter. It was dusty and empty save for the rats and certain great spiders, and during the rest of the hot afternoon Ormsgill sat with Nares in the little enclosed space under the lengthening shadow of the wall. The boys had curled themselves up amidst the dust and quietly gone to sleep.

There was nothing they could see but the ridge of forest beyond the huts, and though now and then a clamor of voices reached them from outside, it supplied them with no clue to what was going on. Ormsgill smoked his pipe out several times before he said anything, and then he glanced at the wall meditatively.

"It seems thick, and there's only one entrance," he observed. "I almost fancy we could hold the place, though I don't anticipate the necessity. Still, Domingo, who does a good trade here, has a certain following, and it might be an advantage if I knew a little more about our friends' affair. Their Suzerain seems to have some notion of fair play. I wonder what he is doing here."

"I have been asking myself the same question," said Nares. "It seems to me these folks have been a little slack in recognizing his authority, and he has been making them a visitation. In one respect they're somewhat unfortunately fixed. The Portuguese consider they belong to them though they have made no attempt to occupy the country, and it's a little rough on the Headman who has to keep the peace with both."

Ormsgill made a little gesture of concurrence. "No doubt you're correct. The question is who the Headman would sooner not offend, and it's rather an important one because we are somewhat awkwardly circumstanced if it's the Portuguese. Our friend from the Interior naturally doesn't like them, but it's uncertain how far we could count on him, and Dom Luiz will probably turn up to-morrow night or the next day, and then there would be fresh complications."

"In that case we should never get the boys."

The lines grew a trifle deeper in Ormsgill's forehead, but he smiled. "I wouldn't go quite so far, though if Domingo still had the boys it might delay things. As it is, I don't think he will have them. How I'm going to take them from him I don't quite know, but I expect to make an attempt of some kind to-morrow. You see, these folks have no particular fondness for the Portuguese, and that will probably count for a little."

Nares said nothing further on that subject, and Ormsgill talked about other matters while the shadows crept across the little dusty enclosure and the forest cut more darkly against the dazzling glare. Then it stood out for a brief few minutes fretted hard and sharp in ebony against a blaze of transcendent splendor, and vanished with an almost bewildering suddenness as darkness swept down. The smell of wood smoke crept into the stagnant air, and a cheerful hum of voices rose from the huts beyond the wall, through which odd bursts of laughter broke. It would not have been astonishing if it had jarred upon the susceptibilities of the two men who heard it, but, as it happened, they listened tranquilly. They had both faced too many perils in the shadowy land to concern themselves greatly as to what might befall them. In one was the sure belief that all he was to bear was appointed for him, and the other thought of little but the task in hand. They were simple men, impatient often, and now and then driven into folly by human bitterness, but there is, perhaps, nothing taught in all the creeds and philosophies greater than their desire to do a little good. The formulas change, and lose their authority, but the down-trodden and those who groan beneath a heavy burden always remain.

By and by one of the Headman's retainers brought in food and a native lamp. He had nothing to tell the white men, and they, recognizing it, judiciously refrained from useless questions. When they had eaten they sat awhile talking of matters that did not greatly interest them until Ormsgill, who had already stationed his sentries, extinguished the light.

"Whether the boys can be depended on to watch I don't know, and it's probably very doubtful," he said. "Anyway, I think we shall be safe until to-morrow, and I'm going to sleep. After all, I fancy we could leave the thing to the Headman. He's a cunning rascal, and it's to some extent his business to find a way out of the difficulty. As you suggest, he stands between his Suzerain and the Portuguese, and can't afford to offend either of them."

He stretched himself out on his hard native couch, and apparently sank into tranquil slumber, but it was some time before Nares' eyes closed. He was of different temperament, and, though he was not unduly anxious, the surroundings had their effect on him. There was, as usual, no door to the hut, and he could see the soft blue darkness beyond the entrance. The figure of a big, half-naked man who carried a heavy rifle cut against it shadowily now and then. The village was silent, and he could hear a little hot breeze sweep through it and stir the invisible trees. At last, however, he sank into sleep, and was awakened suddenly some time later. He did not know what had roused him, but as he raised himself he dimly saw Ormsgill slip across the room. Then there was a footfall outside, and he made out the sentry half-crouching in the entrance.

He rose, and stood still, quivering a little, while, perhaps, a quarter of a minute slipped by. The stillness was very impressive, and seemed emphasized by the footsteps outside. They were soft and cautious, and it was evident that the man who made them was desirous of slipping into the hut unseen. Then there was a thud in the entrance, and a scuffle during which Ormsgill hurled himself upon the pair of struggling men.

"Let him go," he said in a bush tone. "Take your hand off his neck. Now get up."

A man who gasped heavily staggered to his feet, and Ormsgill laughed as he turned to Nares.

"I believe he's a messenger, but he can hardly blame us for welcoming him as we did," he said. "Now if you have anything to say go on with it."

Nares could only just see the negro, who was probably attempting to recover his senses, for he said nothing.

"Who sent you?" asked Ormsgill, who gripped his arm tightly, in the native tongue.

"It is a thing I am not to tell," said the man. "I have a message. Domingo left our village with the boys an hour ago. He heads for the west."

Nares turned to Ormsgill. "Well," he said, "I am not altogether astonished, and the Headman's hint is plain enough. Of course, the thing may be a trap, but it is quite possible he is not unnaturally anxious to get rid of us and Domingo."

Ormsgill looked at the negro. "If he has gone an hour ago how are we to come up with him?"

"The road twists across the high land," said the man. "There is a shorter path through a swamp."

"Then if you will lead us across the swamp so we can reach firm ground in front of Domingo you shall have as much cloth as you can carry."

It was a tempting offer, and though the negro appeared to have misgivings he profited by it, and in another few minutes Ormsgill had roused the boys in the compound.

"If we have no trouble in getting out I think we can feel reasonably sure that the Headman doesn't care whether we worry Domingo or not," he said.

"Well," said Nares reflectively, "I almost think you're right. Still, he may, after all, have something different in his mind. As you said, we could probably hold the hut, and we are not out of the village yet."

Ormsgill seemed to smile. "In that case," he said, "he may have reason to be sorry he ever entertained a notion of that kind."

CHAPTER XVII

THE AMBUSCADE

A thin crescent moon hung low in the western sky when they slipped out into the sleeping village, and shadowy huts and encircling forest were dimly distinguishable. The place was very silent, and though the negro as a rule sleeps lightly no one appeared in a doorway, and no voice was raised to challenge them. In fact, Nares, who walked beside his comrade with his heart beating a good deal faster than usual, felt the silence almost oppressive, for he was conscious that it might at any moment be rudely broken. He had very little confidence in the dusky Headman, and knew that if treachery was intended they were affording him the opportunity he probably desired.

Now and then there was a faint clatter and jingle of arms, and at times the soft patter of naked feet in the trampled dust was flung back with what appeared to be a startling distinctness by the huts they passed, but there was no other sound, and the boys flitted steadily on, a line of vague, shadowy figures, in front of him. Then he drew a deep breath of relief as they left the village behind them and plunged into the gloom of the forest. He looked back a moment towards the clustering huts which rose faintly black against the dim bush, and wondered how the Headman would explain matters to his Suzerain on the morrow. That, however, was the Headman's affair, and Nares fancied he would be equal to the occasion, since the negro is usually a very shrewd diplomatist.

By and by the darkness beneath the trees grew a little less intense, and they came out on the brink of a morass. It stretched away before them smeared with drifting wisps of sour white steam, and it was not astonishing that they halted and looked at it apprehensively. An African swamp is not, as a rule, considered impassable so long as one does not sink beyond the hips in it, and there are places where British forest officers flounder through them more or less cheerfully for days together, but it is, for all that, a thing the average white man has a natural shrinking from. Ormsgill significantly tapped the rifle he now carried before he exchanged a few words with their guide.

"He says we can get through, but I'll take the precaution of walking close beside him," he said to Nares. "It's an excellent rule in this country not to let your guide get too far in front of you."

They went in, and the tall grass near the verge crackled about them as they sank in the plastic mire out of which they could scarcely drag their feet. It was a little easier where there was only foul slime and water, and in places there were signs of a path, that is, they could see where somebody else had floundered through the quaggy waste of corruption. The smell was a thing to shudder at, but they were all of them more or less used to that, and the emanations of such places do not invariably prostrate the white man who is accustomed to the country. In some cases, at least, the results of inhaling them only appear some time afterwards, but there are very few white men who escape them altogether.

In due time they came out, bemired from head to foot, with scum and slimy water draining from them, and they diffused sour odors as they once more plunged into the forest which just there was permeated with the sickly scent of lilies. Still, it was a consolation to Ormsgill that they had, at least, left nobody behind, and he acquired a certain confidence in their guide. They pushed on for most of the night, smashing and hacking a way through creepers, and stumbling in loose white sand, and at last came out upon a well beaten trail. The negro who crawled up and down it said that Domingo had not reached that spot yet, but Ormsgill did not content himself with his assurance. With difficulty, he made a little fire and while it flickered feebly stooped over the loose sand. Then he stamped it out before he turned to Nares.

"I almost think he is right, and as the Headman doesn't expect us to compromise him we'll let him go," he said.

The man, it was evident, had no desire to stay, and when he went away content with his load of cotton cloth Ormsgill made the most of his forces. Two men with Sniders whom he fancied he could to some extent depend upon were sent back to crouch beside the trail; a few more took up their stations a little distance ahead; and the white men lay down with the carriers between the two parties, and a few yards back from the path. It was now a trifle cooler, for the night was wearing through, and the mysterious voices of the forest had died away and left a deep silence intensified by the splash of moisture on the leaves. Nares shivered a little as the all pervading damp crept through his thin garments, though the lower half of them was still foul with the mire of the swamp.

"I suppose we shall meet Domingo if we wait long enough?" he said. "After all, we have only the Headman's word to warrant us believing it."

Ormsgill laughed. "It depends a good deal upon the kind of bargains Domingo has made with him lately. The thing will probably work out just as we would like it if he hasn't been quite satisfied with them. It's an arrangement that would commend itself to the average African. Still, as I said already, I'm a trifle sorry that you are mixed up in it."

Nares sat silent a moment or two. He had borne a good deal, perhaps rather more than could have been expected of him, from those whom he considered with some reason as workers of iniquity, and, after all, excessive meekness has seldom been a characteristic of the Puritan.

"Well," he said slowly, "I'm not sure that I am. It is very probable that I have been proscribed already, and, perhaps, it was not patience but cowardice that made me submit so long. After all, patience accomplishes very little in Africa."

"I'm afraid it was never one of my strong points," and Ormsgill smiled. "In fact, if Domingo made any kind of fight it would be a certain relief to me, although because one can't always afford to be guided by his personal likes I've taken every precaution against it. Now, suppose we get the boys back, what do you propose to do?"

"Go back to my station," said Nares quietly.

"And if you hear that Dom Luiz is there with several files of infantry to arrest you?"

"In that case I will go down to the coast with you."

Ormsgill dropped a hand on his comrade's shoulder. "I shall be glad to have you wherever I go, though I'm not sure that you wouldn't be safer if you pushed on alone. You don't mention what it has cost you to warn me, but I think I can understand."

Nares slowly shook his head. "I don't think I have much to regret," he said without a trace of bitterness. "I was sent here to save men's souls, and it seems that I have failed. Still, I think I should have stayed and healed their bodies – had it been permitted – but there is, perhaps, work I can do elsewhere since that is not the case." He stopped a moment with the faintest sigh. "We will not mention this again."

Ormsgill said nothing, probably because he was more than a trifle stirred. He knew that it requires self-restraint and courage to face the fact that one's efforts have been thrown away, but there are men like him who now and then shrink from expressing their sympathy. Leaning forward a little with the rifle across his knees he set himself to listen.

It was almost an hour before he heard anything at all, and in the meanwhile the faint coolness increased, and the tops of the trees above him became dimly visible. They cut with a growing sharpness against the eastern sky, and here and there a massy trunk grew out of the obscurity. Then there was a faint pearly flush beyond them, and in the cold of the sudden dawn he heard the men he was waiting for. A soft patter of footsteps and a murmur of voices came up the winding trail. He knew the boys had also heard, for the undergrowth behind him crackled and then was still again.

In another few minutes there was dim light in the forest, and he could see indistinct figures moving towards him through the narrow gap in the leaves. They became more visible, and he could make out the uncovered ebony skin of some and the fluttering cotton that flowed about the others' limbs. There were burdens upon most of their heads, but a few carried what seemed to be long flintlock guns. Then, for dawn comes with startling swiftness in that land, the shadowy trunks became sharp and clear, and the men who plodded among them seemed to emerge from a blurring obscurity. Black limbs, impassive faces, raw white draperies, and gray gun barrels were forced up in the sudden light, but Ormsgill raising himself a trifle fixed his eyes upon the man of lighter color who walked a little apart from the others. His voice rang harshly as he flung menaces in a native tongue at one or two of those who lagged under their burdens, and perhaps he was, in one respect, warranted in this, since, for economic reasons, the negro whose labor somebody else has sold for him is seldom loaded beyond his strength on his march to the coast, at least, so long as provisions are plentiful.

They had almost reached the spot where the white men lay when Ormsgill quietly walked out into the trail, and stood there with left foot forward and the rifle at his hip. He had left his shapeless hat behind, and his thin, thorn-rent garments clung about him damp with dew and foul with mire. Still, he looked curiously resolute, and the men with the burdens stopped and recoiled at the sight of him, until one group of them flung down what they carried and ran towards him clamoring. Then there was a harsh cry from the rear of the line, and swinging round they scattered into the underbrush as the tall man of lighter color sprang forward with something that glinted in his hand.

Ormsgill's rifle went up and came in to the shoulder. With the same motion his cheek dropped upon the stock. He said nothing, but the labor purveyor stopped. Ormsgill swung down the rifle.

"Look behind you," he said in Portuguese.

Domingo turned, and saw two half-naked men with Sniders standing in the trail. Then looking round again he saw several more ahead, while other dusky figures had risen here and there among the undergrowth. They appeared resolute, and it was evident that he could get no further without their permission. He was credited with being a daring as well as an unscrupulous man, but he knew when the odds were too heavy against him, and he made a sign to Ormsgill.

"You want something from me?" he said.

"I do," said Ormsgill. "The boys you stole from Lamartine. It will save you trouble if you give them up."

Domingo glanced once more at the men with the rifles, who stood still, one or two of them regarding him with a sardonic grin. Then he glanced at his startled carriers, who had thrown down their burdens and huddled together. There was, of course, nothing to be expected from them, and his few armed retainers were evidently not to be relied upon. In fact, they were gazing longingly at the bush, and it was clear that they were ready to make a dash for its shelter. They had done his bidding truculently when it was a question of overawing down-trodden bushmen and keeping defenseless carriers on the march, but to face resolute men with rifles was a different matter, and their courage was not equal to the task. Domingo seemed to recognize it, for he made a little scornful gesture.

"If I had a few men who could be depended on I would fight you for the boys," he said. "As it is they are yours."

"I see eight," said Ormsgill. "Where are the others?"

Domingo smiled maliciously. "In the hands of the Ugalla Headman. I am afraid it will be a little difficult to induce him to part with them: Lamartine, it seems, had taught them enough to make them useful to a Headman who is copying the white men's habits."

"In that case he no doubt gave you something worth while for them, and since you stole them it does not belong to you. Are you willing to tell me what he offered you?"

"No," said Domingo resolutely.

"It wouldn't be difficult to estimate it at the usual figure, and you will understand that the Headman will ask me, at least, as much as he gave for them, but I will be reasonable. If you will let me have the arms your boys carry I shall be satisfied."

"How can I drive these men to the coast if we have no arms?"

"I don't know," said Ormsgill with a little laugh. "It is your affair, but, perhaps, I can simplify the thing for you. I will take the arms in exchange for the boys in the Headman's possession, and hand you over what trade goods I have and paper bills for the rest of the men, except the eight boys, for whom you will get nothing. I think I can calculate what they cost you, and the fact that the transaction is probably illegal does not trouble me."

There was still silence for a moment or two, and a dazzling ray of sunlight beat down into the bush. It made a sudden brightness, and showed the malice in Domingo's dusky face. Then it touched the huddled carriers' naked skin, and Nares glanced from them to the group of Lamartine's boys who had appeared again. It seemed they understood a little of what was going on, and were watching Ormsgill expectantly. He stood quietly in the middle of the trail, with a rifle at his hip and a little grim smile in his eyes. All round rose the forest, impressive in its stillness, dim and shadowy, and the scene had a curious effect on Nares. He felt it had its symbolism, and its motive was that of all the old world legends and dramas, the triumph of the right over evil which man has from forgotten times vaguely believed in. It is, perhaps, especially difficult to be an optimist in Africa, but Nares who had borne a good deal in its steamy shadow held fast to his faith, and it did not matter greatly to him that the latter day champion of the oppressed was a most unknightly figure in burst shoes and tattered garments and carried an American rifle. At last, however, Domingo made a little gesture.

"I am in your hands," he said. "You shall have them."

They were not long in making the bargain, and when the arms and all the boys except the few who had carried the long guns had been handed over Ormsgill turned once more to Domingo.

"Now," he said, "you can go where you please, but I scarcely think it will be back towards the interior. Your friends up yonder would probably profit by the opportunity if you appeared among them with a few unarmed men."