CHAPTER XI
A TRAP
In the morning they packed up and made their way upstream to the place where they had left the sections of the Okapi, for such a banner of smoke as was still mounting from the smouldering reeds was bound to attract inspection from the natives. They found the hiding-place undisturbed, and, after putting the boat together, went on down to the Congo. Slipping out upon the great river in the dusk, they went on slowly for several miles, tied up till the early dawn, and spread the little sail to the morning breeze. The boat had a singular appearance, for strips of biltong were suspended from the awning, not having been quite cured, and the buffalo-hide was hanging over the side, in soak, to soften it for the final treatment that would take the hair off and leave it soft and pliant.
Compton was allowed a day off, and slept the sleep of the tired; but the others were all occupied—one keeping watch, another steering, and the third cleaning up. The jackal, like Compton, was unemployed, and curled itself up by his feet, opening one eye occasionally to see that all was shipshape. Through the morning they went, and into the afternoon; then Venning, who was outlook-man, gave tongue—
"A sail—a sail!"
"Where—away?" yelled Compton, waking up.
"On the port bow, hull down, paddle showing."
"Then it's a canoe, you duffer, not a sail."
"A canoe it is, sir; single-handed, and bearing right down upon us.
Shall we speak her?"
"Luff—luff! and we'll pour a broadside into her lee scuppers," said
Compton, ferociously.
"She's signalling," returned Venning; "distress signal, I think."
Mr. Hume went forward and took a look through his glasses. A solitary canoe was certainly in view, with a single boatman aboard, who was frantically waving his paddle. Then he swept the shore for signs of life.
"There are some people squatting just by that tall palm," he muttered. "Have a look, Venning."
Venning made out several persons at the spot. "They can't do us any harm," he said, and brought the glasses to bear on the canoe. "The chap appears to be in a stew about something, from the way he glances over his shoulder."
They sailed down towards the lonely paddler, who was soon alongside —thanks to an extraordinary agility. He appeared to be greatly pleased at the meeting, grinned continuously, and at once prepared to get aboard the Okapi.
Mr. Hume, however, kept him off with a "not so fast" and a hand against his breast.
"Talk to him, Muata. Ask him what he wants, who he is, and all the rest."
Muata stepped into the canoe, caught up the paddle, and sat down to palaver. A line was made fast to the canoe, and it drifted astern of the Okapi, which kept on her course.
The canoe-man's grin faded away, and his eyes rolled as Muata ordered him to sit. He seemed to be a river tribesman, with only a loin-cloth on.
"Don't eat him, chief," sang out Compton; for Muata had a very ugly look on his face as he eyed the stranger.
The man himself seemed to think there was cause for this plea on his behalf, for, to the amazement of all, he responded in broken English—
"Oh yeh-es, he eatee me. Poah black man come to white master for heiup, not to wild black man."
"By Jove, he talks English! Let the poor beggar come aboard, sir."
"He's all right where he is," said Mr. Hume.
The man did not think so, and began hauling on the rope, when Mr. Hume drew his knife and made as if he would cut the canoe loose. He ceased from pulling, and, after a despairing look, crouched down.
"We will talk," said Muata, courteously, poising the paddle in his hand. "How is your venerable mother?"
"She has a wonderful dish of fish and manioc for her son's guests. You will do her the favour to eat of that dish," said the stranger, humbly.
"And is your venerable mother's kraal up the river?"
"A sun's march distant, by a garden of bananas. Also there is a fat goat."
"And what does her excellent son so far from the village?"
"There were tales of bad men," said the stranger, plucking up spirit, "and these tales drew me away, for the price offered for their capture was great, and my fetish told me where they were hid."
"And the little son was greedy? He kept this word of his fetish from the honourable ears of his mother, so that he would have the price to himself, eh?"
"Truly a great chief," murmured the boatman, with reverence. "It was as you say."
"And it fell out that, when you came to the place where the boatmen were hid, they were on their guard, so that you fled?"
"O great chief, it was even so. I fled in a canoe."
"And seeing this our canoe of shining metal, you found courage to leave the reeds wherein you hid to come to us for help?"
"Oh, wonderful!" said the canoe-man, turning up his eyes. "When these eyes saw your shining canoe, they were gladdened, for I said, 'Here come helpers.'"
"And you will take us to where these men are hidden, so that we may share the price that is on their heads?"
The man grinned. "You can have all the prize—all," he said, "and after we will go to my venerable mother, and eat fish and goats' meat."
Muata smiled gently. "All the price?"
"Did I say all?" said the man, with a swift look at the chief. "I did wrong to my people—a portion to them and a portion to me."
"That is fair," said Muata.
"Oh, good words. See, I beat my mouth for the ill word I spoke;" and he struck his mouth. "But see, O chief, we move on, and the bad men will see us going, and make a plan to escape."
"Let it be so. If they see us they will see we are passing on, and be comforted. And who will pay the price that is set on their heads?"
"They have the price with them," said the man, with a cunning look, "in ivory, in palm-oil, and in many things they have robbed from the villages."
"And what avails them, all those things—which are heavy things—if they have no canoes to carry them in to the traders?"
"Did I say they had no canoes? A great fleet they have waiting in hiding, till all the band come together from the hiding, waiting on the other shore. It was because I saw the fleet of canoes on the river, crossing to the far side, that I hoped to surprise the few who were left."
"And when may those canoes return?"
"The men collect their goods for the going; the time must be short before they leave."
"And where do the others lie hid?"
"By the great palm-tree, over there."
"Where there were men sitting watching? It was because they had no canoes that they did not follow you? Shall I tell you what was in my thought? This, that you and they were friends, and that you were the bait to draw us into the trap."
The man grinned nervously, and glanced at the water. "Would a little man trust himself in the power of such great chiefs, if his heart was crooked. I came for help, but if it pleases you to continue to the village, and to leave these bad men, it will please me also."
"And if we attack these men," asked Muata, after a pause, "what plan have you made for us?"
The boatman was relieved. His eyes brightened again. "See, we would land beyond that point ahead, and in the dark steal upon the robbers."
"We are too few," said Muata, after turning the matter over. "Now, if you could bring some of your friends to help, it might be done."
"I am alone, and you are great warriors. Your name has gone abroad."
"How? You know us, then?"
"All white men are the same in battle," said the other, quickly.
"Think over my words—that some men are wanted. There must be men to guard our canoe, others to watch for the return of the robbers from across the river. You must get men, otherwise we do nothing."
The canoe-man pondered, then he clapped his hand over his mouth.
"Yoh! The fear of death confused me, and drove from my thought that my brother is near with warriors protecting the gardens."
"Good, then. Go to your brother. Bring him and his warriors to the point you spoke of, light a fire there to guide us, and in the dark we will join you."
Muata hauled on the rope, boarded the Okapi, and set the canoe adrift.
"Do as I have said—gather the men quickly, light a fire, guide us to the hiding-place, and in the morning we will share the riches. Hurry!"
"And is that the word of the white chief also?" asked the man, suspiciously.
"Did not the white chief leave this palaver to me? Go! for there is no time to waste."
The paddle flashed as the man sped for the shore near the point he had referred to, which was several miles above the spot where he had been taken in tow.
"Well?" said Mr. Hume, glancing at the chief, "He goes to collect men to meet us this night."
"So."
"Wow! There are bad men—robbers—to be attacked, and much ivory to be taken."
"We want no ivory, nor quarrels either."
"But I gave my word we would help him. It is a good thing to fall upon robbers."
"If there is to be a shindy, I'm in for it," said Compton.
"Who are the robbers?"
Muata laughed, and snapped his fingers. "You saw the man in the canoe?"
Mr. Hume nodded, and looked after the paddler with knit brows.
"And you?"—to Compton.
"I have eyes, chief."
"And you?"
"I saw him first," said Venning.
"And he was a stranger?"
"Of course."
Muata laughed. "White men know many things, but not all. Haw! Who are those to be eaten up?" He touched his naked breast, and then pointed at each in turn.
"They would attack us," roared Mr. Hume.
The chief nodded. "Now you know who that stranger was who came with his long story."
"One black chap is like another," muttered Compton.
"Who was he?" asked Mr. Hume.
"The servant of the white chiefs who bound me."
"The Zanzibari boy!" exclaimed Venning. "My Jenkins!"
"Why didn't you knock the beggar overboard?" said Compton. "What cheek!"
"Does he know you recognized him?" said Mr. Hume.
"The dog was afraid; but at the last he went away, thinking he led Muata by a rope, as he would lead a goat. Had Hassan, the wolf, tried to blind Muata so, then——" The chief touched the hilt of his knife.
"Let us hear the story."
Muata repeated the whole conversation with much byplay, even imitating the tones, the nervousness, and the sly glances of the Zanzibar spy, for nothing had escaped his keen glance.
"And those men whose presence he suddenly remembered, and who are to meet us to-night, will be Hassan's slave-robbers, too?"
"Ow aye," said Muata, with a ferocious gleam in his eyes.
"So, then, they have been waiting for us?"
"On both sides of the river they have been waiting;" and the chief looked out over the brown flood towards the north bank.
"It was well you talked to the man, for he was skillfully disguised, even to me, who am no child in these matters."
"Muata is old in cunning," said the chief, quietly. "If he were not wise, he would not be dreaded by the Wolf."
"I never recognized the beggar," said Venning, "and even now I cannot recall a feature that was like the Zanzibar! How did you discover him, Muata?"
"Wow! He wore nothing in his ears, there were no marks on his body, he had rubbed the dark juice of the chewing-leaf over his skin, and there was a lie on his tongue, and in his eyes. Ho!—white men, this is my word, that we fall on them to-night." The chief picked up a Ghoorka knife. "This is my weapon."
"We are not man-hunters," said Mr. Hume. "We will, however, hang about till evening, so that they may think we have no suspicions, and then in the dusk we will push on."
"Wow!" said the chief. "My plan would be to land above, to creep down and take them unprepared."
"And the canoes from the other side would steal across and cut you off. No; we will leave them."
"The canoes from the other side," said Compton, starting up. "I rather think I saw one shoot into that island—the big one with the palm-tree in the centre."
"All right," said the hunter, quickly. "Don't look that way; take in the sail. If they are there, we don't want to draw their attack now. Get out the sculls, Venning, and keep her towards the sandbank ahead. Just keep her moving."
The sail rattled down, and the Okapi lazily moved nearer the shore, leaving about a mile of water between her and the island, towards which Mr. Hume, lying flat, was directing his glasses. The others were looking ostentatiously shorewards.
"You are right, Compton; canoes are gathering under that island."
"Congela," said the chief, "there is a man watching us from the land."
"Signal to him," said Mr. Hume. "You see, what we want is to keep those canoes where they are till night; and they probably won't move till they have a signal from their friends ashore."
Muata called out, and a man who was skulking behind a bush stepped out.
"Why do you watch, my friend?"
"O chiefs," shouted the man, "all goes well. The men will be here at nightfall, and the fire will be lit to guide you."
"It is good," said Muata. "We will wait."
The man stood for some time watching, then went into the bush, and the crew of the Okapi, to divert suspicion, got out fishing-lines and fished; but all the time Mr. Hume, lying under the awning, watched the distant island, which shielded an unknown number of their watchful foes.
"Woo!" said Muata, "the great one was right; and Muata is still a boy. Haw! Truly, if we had landed, our journey would have ended here."
"Suppose the canoes dash out before dark?" said Venning.
"Then we will make a run for it."
It was a long, long afternoon. Anxiously they waited for the sun to set, and the boys marked the slow creeping of the shadows over the river thrown by the ridge on the south bank, and anxiously Mr. Hume watched the island and the broad sweep ahead—for the danger was ahead. If the enemy had taken precautions to send a portion of the fleet up-river, they stood a chance of being intercepted.
At last the hour had come. The sky was turning grey, the shadows reached right across, and the evening wind was rustling the leaves. The Okapi began to move. She crept away from the shore, and then turned again with her bows to the bank. So she waited a few minutes while the darkness deepened, then, as a flame broke out on land, the sail was run up; she came round once more with her bows up-stream, and slipped along. Looking back, they saw the fire spring up at the appointed landing-place, and, listening intently, they caught the crackling of the burning wood.
"They move," said Muata.
The others bent their heads, and presently they too heard the sound that had reached the keener sense of the warrior—a rhythmical beat and hum made by many paddles as the man-hunters, who had hidden behind the island, were dashing forward in hot haste to catch the Okapi, which they expected would be landing its crew. But the Okapi slipped on, and had a very good lead when Hassan and his slave- hunters set up a terrific outcry on finding that once more they had been tricked. They made right across in a long beat for the north bank, then working the screw in turns, with the great lamp at the bows to scare off the hippos, they made good progress till sunrise. For five days thereafter they kept steadily on their way, meeting with no adventure, and keeping out in mid-river to avoid the attention of the villagers. When, at intervals, they did land to buy goats'-milk, bananas, and manioc, they took precautions to approach clearings where there were only a few huts.