CHAPTER XXIV
A Solemn Charge
The party set off. They marched all day, with brief intervals for food and rest. Jack was only allowed to speak to his uncle during these pauses. The sick man lay inert, with closed eyes, protected from the heat by a light covering of grass, which his bearers made and fixed above his litter. Jack watched him anxiously. He seemed no worse when they arrived at the river just before sunset. Mr. Martindale had brought up four canoes; two of these had already been appropriated by Elbel and conveyed up the river; the other two remained. They passed the night on the canoes, and in the small hours, when the natives were asleep, Mr. Martindale insisted on continuing the story broken off the night before.
"Better now, dear boy," he said, when Jack implored him to wait until he was stronger. "I shall never see Boma; Elbel knows that. He knows that in this climate a sick man cannot survive a journey of over a thousand miles. I want you to understand clearly before I go what these officials are doing. They call it the Free State!—free! No one is free but the officials! The natives, poor wretches! are not free. Never, when slavery was an institution, were there slaves in such abject misery as these slaves of the Congo. Why, they made a great to-do about slavery in my country fifty years ago, and some of the pictures in Uncle Tom's Cabin were lurid enough. But the American slave's life was Paradise compared with this hell upon earth. Trade on the Congo was to be free. Is there any such freedom? Look at my case. They give me a patent to work minerals; they let me make my prospecting trip; then when I have located the gold and ordered my machinery they revoke my patent. I make the loaf, they eat it. Oh! it was all planned from the beginning. We have been fooled right through, Jack."
"But what of their courts, Uncle? Surely there is some redress for injustice."
"Their courts! They're all of a piece, Jack. The State grants a concession to a trading company. Half the time the State is the trading company; it takes up the larger portion of the shares. The Congo Free State is nothing but a big commercial speculation, and the courts dare not do anything that conflicts with its interests. Men come here, Belgians, Germans, Italians, good fellows some, honest, well-meaning; but they haven't been here long before they have to swim with the current, or throw up their careers. One poor fellow, a district judge, ventured to protest against an illegal sentence passed by a court-martial; he was broken, and hounded out of the country. In a sense he was lucky, for it is easier for such a man to get into this country than to get out of it—alive! A man who does justice and loves righteousness has no place in the Congo Free State.
"You see now why they let me go. They let me make what arrangements I pleased—engage a large party, buy a large quantity of stores; well knowing that at any moment of my journey they could arrest me and plunder my goods. And they knew of your doings up here, be sure of that. They intended to let me get into the neighbourhood of your fort and use me to decoy you out. They've done it. Oh! it was all planned in Boma. Neither you nor I will ever reach Boma if Elbel and the officials have their way. Elbel's suggestion of delaying so that we could get Barney to surrender the fort was all a part of the trick; it would make no difference to our treatment, and it would be the death-warrant of those poor negroes. Jack, I approve of all that you have done—approve with all my heart. I am proud of you, dear boy. What does it matter that I've lost my money, and my gold mine, and very likely my life too! I am thankful to Almighty God that we came to this country, glad that He has put it into our power to do some little good. I wouldn't undo any of it; I am proud that one of my blood has been called to this good work. Jack, Providence has made us responsible for the poor negroes who have trusted their lives to us. Do you remember I said at Banonga that I wasn't a philanthropist and wasn't set on starting a crusade? I spoke lightly, my boy. I would say now that if God spared my life I would spend all my strength and all my energy in a nobler work than ever mediæval crusader undertook. I shall not live to do it; but I leave it to you. Were this my last breath I would say, help the negroes of the Congo, fight the corrupt Government that enriches itself on their blood; go to the fountain-head and expose the hypocrisy of King Leopold."
"He may not know of it, Uncle. So far away he cannot check and control all the actions of his agents."
"Not know of it! How can he help knowing of it? Are not these things happening every day? And it is his business to know of it. Suppose I had a factory in the United States, and it was proved that while I was coining millions my hands were dying of overwork, or of insanitary buildings, or getting wages insufficient to keep them decently clothed and fed; wouldn't there be an outcry? Wouldn't the law step in, or if the law failed, public opinion? Where does Leopold get his dollars from? Who pays for the estates he is buying, the palace he is building, the fine public works he is presenting to Belgium? It is these poor black people. He is draining the life-blood out of the country he vowed before Almighty God to rule justly and administer wisely for the good of the people; and the cries and groans of these negroes, men like himself, are rising to Heaven, terrible witnesses of his broken vows, his callousness, his selfish apathy. Oh! I grant him good intentions to begin with. Twenty years ago he did not foresee all this; no man is a villain all at once! But it might have been foreseen. He was king of a few hundred miles of country; with a stroke of the pen he became sovereign of a State as big as Europe; and if a man has the passion for getting, unlimited opportunities of doing so will bring him to any villainy unless he has the grace of God in him."
Jack was deeply moved by his uncle's earnestness. At the same time he was concerned to see the exhaustion that followed his passionate speech. He gave him a little wine, imploring him to spare himself.
"Don't trouble, dear boy," said Mr. Martindale with a smile. "The fire is burning out; what does it matter if it burns a little more quickly? But I won't distress you; you will think over my words when I am gone."
In the morning the river journey was begun. It continued for several days, until with their arrival at the falls progress by water was interrupted, and a long portage had to be made.
It was just at this point that they met a party of Askari marching in the other direction. As soon as they came in sight the leader of Jack's escort cried—
"O etswa?"[[1]]
"O!" replied the leader of the approaching band.
"Where are you going?"
"To the camp of Elobela."
"What have you got in those bundles?"
"Cartridges for Elobela's guns."
"Bolotsi O! He will be glad of them. He has very few left."
"Has he killed many people?"
"No. But Lokolobolo captured nearly all his cartridges."
"Mongo! Who is Lokolobolo?"
"Here he is! An Inglesa who has built a fort and fights Elobela. But we have got him at last, and he goes with an old Inglesa to Boma. Oh! he will fight no more."
"O kend'o?"
"O!"
During the river journey Mr. Martindale had grown steadily weaker. He fought hard against his illness; he had a new motive for desiring life; and Jack, observing his occasional rallies, hoped still that he would pull through. But he was so weak when lifted from the canoe that he fainted, and Jack feared that he would not survive the day. He rallied again, and once more Jack had a gleam of hope.
The horrors of that overland march will haunt Jack's memory till he dies. For some time the Askari had been ill-using the carriers. The greater part of the stores which Mr. Martindale had taken up the river had been appropriated by Elbel, and the food left in the canoes was not sufficient for full meals for the whole party. It was the carriers who went short. They had to bear the burdens, to make frequent journeys to and fro up the steep river banks, while the Askari looked on and had the best of the food. When the portage was begun, one of the canoes was added to their load. The other was left hidden in the bush to be fetched later. Weak from lack of proper nourishment, they could go but slowly, and Jack's blood boiled as he saw them quiver, heard them shriek, under the merciless chicotte. Before the first day was ended, two of the men fell, worn out with hunger and fatigue. Jack heard shots behind him, and saw that the wretched men had been put out of their misery. On the second day another man succumbed; what little life was left in him was beaten out with the clubbed rifles of the Askari. Three men ran away during the night, preferring the perils of the forest to the certain fate that awaited them at the hands of their fellow-men. Only two carriers were now left, and since these were useless they were shot in cold blood. Jack's heart was like a stone within him. These atrocities recalled the worst horrors of the old Arab slave-raiding days; and he was unable to lift a hand to oppose them. If he had been the only white man with the party he felt that he would have risked anything in an effort to save the poor wretches; but while his uncle still lived he could do nothing that might involve his own death.
The bearers being all gone, the Askari had to take turns themselves in carrying the canoe, the remainder of their provisions, and Mr. Martindale's litter. This necessity did not improve their temper or their manners, and the litter-bearers went so carelessly over the rough ground that Jack was constrained to protest. He implored, he threatened, feeling that the only chance for his uncle was to make more frequent halts; the fatigue of constant travelling would certainly kill him. But the Askari roughly replied that they had orders to continue their journey without delay, and the march was resumed. After his protest Jack was forced to walk at a distance from the litter, and even when the caravan halted for food he was not allowed to attend his uncle. Sick at heart he plodded on, torn by his anxieties, yet still nourishing a hope that when they arrived at a station where a doctor might be found, and whence the journey would be continued by steamer, all might yet be well.
But one evening, when the halt was made, he heard his uncle faintly calling. The sound of his voice struck a chill through him. In desperation, snatching a rifle from the guard next him, he threatened to shoot any one who tried to keep him from the dying man.
"It's all up with me, old boy," said Mr. Martindale feebly, when Jack knelt by his litter. "Elbel is having his way. I shan't see another morning."
Jack gripped his hands; they were chill and clammy. A lump came into his throat; he could not speak the yearning affection that filled his heart.
"Bend down, Jack; I'm afraid I cannot make you hear. Remember—remember what I have said; it is my bequest to you—the cause of the Congo natives. Do what you can for them. Fight! It is called the Free State; fight to make it free. I cannot see the future; all is dark; I dread what may await you in Boma. But buck up, dear fellow. Barney—remember him. Go to the British consul; tell him all. Your people have generous sympathies; wake them up; wake them up! If they are roused, all this wrong will come to an end."
"I will do all I can, Uncle," murmured Jack.
"Don't mourn overlong for me. I've had a good time. And this year the best of all. I wouldn't lose it, Jack. Tell my friends I'm not sorry; I'm glad, glad to have seen with my own eyes something that's worth doing. And I have faith in the future—in my fellow-men, in God. What is it about wicked doers? 'They encourage themselves in mischief, and commune how they may lay snares; they imagine wickedness and practise it. But God shall suddenly shoot at them with a swift arrow; yea, their own tongues shall make them fall.' How does it go on? I cannot remember. 'The righteous shall rejoice——.' Jack, are you there?"
"Yes, Uncle, I am here," replied Jack, tightening his clasp.
"Is it the fifteenth Psalm? 'He that walketh uprightly——' I cannot remember, Jack.—Is that boy Samba better? Poor little chap! No father and mother!—Barnard said there was gold; why can't he find it?—No, that's not a nugget, that's—— Only a dog, eh? I'm kind o' set on dogs...."
And so he rambled on, muttering incoherently in his delirium; and Jack did not stir, but remained cramped while the slow hours crawled on, and nocturnal insects hummed, and frogs croaked, and the leaves faintly rustled above him.
Then, as the dawn was creeping up the sky, Mr. Martindale opened his eyes. They rested on Jack's pale drawn face, and the dying man smiled.
"Buck up!" he whispered. "Remember! 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow....'"
And so he died.
[[1]] Are you awake? (the morning greeting)