CHAPTER XXXI
Summons and Surrender
Two days after, on a strip of open ground half-way between Ilombekabasi and Elbel's ruined camp, a group of six negroes were assembled. Three of them were in the uniform of the State troops; the other three were Lepoko, Imbono, and Mboyo. All were unarmed. In the midst of the group were two rough chairs such as were used by native chiefs. The southern wall of Ilombekabasi was thronged with men, women, and children eagerly surveying the scene; lower down the hill the State troops, in a rude encampment hastily constructed on the previous day, were drawn up in orderly ranks, and gazed north with equal intentness.
All at once a great cry of "Lokolobolo!" rent the air, and floated down the hill from the fort to the camp. No answering shout met it. But an officer in white left the camp and walked slowly up the slope. At the same time a tall figure in tattered garments of European cut limped out of the fort, and moved downwards. The group of negroes fell apart as the white men arrived. The latter touched their helmets in military salute; and the younger of the two smilingly motioned to the elder to seat himself on one of the chairs, he himself taking the other. They sat facing each other, and the negroes moved a few paces back on each side.
The two men formed a strange contrast: the one, a tall slim young fellow not yet nineteen, his bronzed face clean shaved, showing firm well-cut lips and an obstinate kind of chin; his nose prominent, his brown eyes large and searching, his hair black as night and somewhat unruly; not a handsome face, but a strong one, worth looking at twice and not easily forgotten: the other nearly as tall, but much broader and more stiffly built; some ten years older; lips and chin concealed by thick brown moustache and beard, blue irritable eyes blinking through big spectacles under fierce and shaggy brows.
"Instead of replying to your summons to surrender, Monsieur Jennaert," said Jack slowly in his best French, "I thought it better to meet you, so that we might clearly understand each other. I am obliged to you for so readily agreeing to my proposal."
The Belgian bowed.
"Yours, monsieur, is the third or fourth summons of the same kind. Monsieur Elbel summoned us——"
"Where is Monsieur Elbel, monsieur?"
"Monsieur Elbel, monsieur, is dead." Lieutenant Jennaert started.
"Dead, monsieur?"
"Yes, he was pursued into the forest by a man whose son he had thrashed, whose relatives his men had maimed and butchered, whose village he had burned. The man killed him. Well, as I was about to say, Monsieur Elbel summoned us more than once. At first he was much stronger than we were, both in arms and men. But when he began to back his summons by force of arms he failed,—more than once. As you know, four days ago we captured his camp for the second time and dispersed his troops, largely with the aid of rifles which had once been his."
"Yes, I know that," said Lieutenant Jennaert somewhat impatiently. "But Monsieur Elbel was not a trained soldier, and his men were only forest guards. I did not come to hear of your exploits, monsieur, but to receive your surrender. I am a soldier; my men are State troops; the case is different."
"Quite so, monsieur. I appreciate the difference between his men and yours. But you will pardon my pointing out that you are in a far more critical position than Monsieur Elbel before his camp was stormed."
"You think so, monsieur?" said the officer with an amused smile. "Would it be indiscreet to ask your reasons?"
"Not at all. I wish to be entirely frank. It is to the interest of us both."
"Assuredly, monsieur."
Lieutenant Jennaert's smile was now quite indulgent. He was at first inclined to be peremptory with this young man, who appeared to presume on the victories he had obtained over a Company's official, and a captain taken at a disadvantage, and never particularly competent, in his subordinate's opinion. But the young fellow was certainly very polite; why not humour him by letting him talk? So Jennaert smiled again. The other continued—
"Well, monsieur, what is the position? Take mine first. You see before you a fortified camp, difficult of approach, as Monsieur Elbel could have told you, and as you can judge for yourself; well provisioned, and with a good water supply; garrisoned by four hundred or more well-armed men—all now provided with Albinis or Mausers, and a machine gun."
The officer started.
"A machine gun?"
"Yes—a machine gun."
"Monsieur Elbel made no mention of a machine gun."
"No, it is a new acquisition. But if you would like to assure yourself on the point I can convince you."
The officer hesitated. Jack turned to Lepoko.
"Run up and tell Mr. Barney to show the big gun on the blockhouse."
Lepoko ran away.
"It is very hot, monsieur," said Jack pleasantly. "The rains, I am told by my friends the chiefs here, are long overdue. I am afraid you would have found your journey rather more difficult if it had been a little later, with the river in flood.—Ah! there it is!"
A number of men had hoisted the gun on to the edge of the parapet, in full view of the group below.
"You see, monsieur, we are well provided. A machine gun, you will admit, is even more useful within walls than without. Now as to your position. You have under your command some three hundred men trained—more or less. Whether as a military force they are better than our men can only be decided if unfortunately you determine to put the matter to the test. But consider your risks. Two days ago we captured your stores."—The officer jumped.—"Your rearguard is in our hands, and that was your machine gun."—The officer stared.—"You are at least three weeks from your base, with perhaps two days' provisions in hand, no reserve of ammunition, and, as I said, the rains overdue. Yonder country, during the rains, is a swamp."
Lieutenant Jennaert turned pale. His messengers sent back to hurry on the dilatory convoy had strangely failed to return. But recovering himself, with a feeble attempt to smile he said—
"You are joking, monsieur. You permit yourself a ruse. Ah! ah! I am not to be entrapped in that way."
"Pardon me, monsieur. You shall have the fullest assurance as to the truth of what I am saying. Lepoko, ask Mr. Barney to send out the white officer."
The Belgian was now looking very uncomfortable. This was a strange turning of the tables; his summons to surrender had been completely forgotten. Jack had no need to kill time by keeping up the conversation, for in a minute or two the lieutenant captured in the river left the fort under an armed guard and walked quickly down.
"Beuzemaker!" exclaimed Lieutenant Jennaert under his breath.
"Yes, monsieur—Monsieur Beuzemaker."
Lieutenant Beuzemaker smiled ruefully as he joined the group. He gave a rapid narrative of the capture of the convoy.
"It only remains, therefore," said Jack, "for you to decide upon your course, monsieur. May I make you a proposal? You shall surrender your arms and ammunition except a dozen rifles. I will supply you with canoes to take your men down the river, and provisions for a fortnight. Within ten days you should enter a district where more food can be obtained. As you know, the country hereabouts has been made almost a desert by your people."
But this was too much. Was it he, Lieutenant Jennaert, who was being called upon to surrender? He rose in a fury.
"Never! The thing is absurd! Monsieur, I take my leave. Beuzemaker!——"
He stopped, biting his lips.
"Monsieur Beuzemaker is my prisoner," said Jack suavely, rising. "He will accompany me back to my camp. Of course, if you accept our terms, we will release all the prisoners."
The Belgian turned away in a rage. The meeting broke up; the two parties went their several ways. Jack, as he walked back to the fort, hoped that on thinking the matter over the officer would see the wisdom of compliance. The alternative was starvation. He must see that it would be no easy matter to storm the fort, and that Jack had only to sit tight for a few days. The State troops, none too well disciplined at the best, would soon be clamouring for food. With a starving soldiery, an active well-fed enemy on his rear, and a swarm of scouts cutting off his foraging parties, he must see the impossibility of making his way back through several hundred miles of country inhabited by tribes only waiting an opportunity to rise against their oppressors. So that when Barney met him as he re-entered the fort, and asked eagerly, "Well, sorr, and did the patient swallow the pill?" he smiled as he shook his head, saying—
"Not yet, Barney. But he will swallow it, bitter as it is."
"Or his men will swallow him, bedad!"
And a few hours later a negro soldier marched up the hill with a white flag. Lieutenant Jennaert's note was very brief.
MONSIEUR,—
J'agrée vos conditions.
JENNAERT,
Lieutenant dans l'armée de l'État du Congo.