CHAPTER XIII: Blood-Brotherhood
Fortifying the Village--The Enemy at the Gate--An Attack at Dawn--Bridging the Trench--Fireballs--Invested
Tom's decisive victory over the medicine-man not only restored him to his former place in the estimation of the people, but raised him to a pitch of renown which he found somewhat embarrassing. Presents of all kinds were thrust upon him by the admiring villagers, and even the chief, who, though always affable, had nevertheless stood a little upon his dignity, now opened his heart to him without reserve. He showed him one day, hidden carefully under the floor of his hut, a magnificent collection of elephants' tusks, some being family heirlooms handed down from generation to generation, others the spoils of his own chase. And then he ventured to make a proposal which he said would once for all fix the confidence of his people in the white man. Would Tom become his blood-brother?
"Most happy, I'm sure," said Tom, who, however, looked a little blue when the details of the ceremony were told him by Mbutu. "I don't mind having my arm lanced, but I'm hanged if I'll lick his blood; no, I draw the line at that."
Barega assured him that a trifle like that need not stand in the way, and the ceremony was forthwith arranged. The people were again called together by tuck of drum. In the centre of the circle two mats of wild-cat skin were placed opposite to each other, and on these Tom and the chief sat cross-legged. The household officers stood around, holding shields and spears and swords over Barega's head. Then the katikiro made a small incision in the forearm of each, half-way between the hand and elbow, from which a little blood oozed. If the rite had been strictly observed, each would then have licked the blood of the other, but in deference to Tom's scruple, the chief was satisfied with their rubbing the cuts together, so that their blood was commingled. When this was done the katikiro began to knock two pieces of metal together, keeping up a monotonous tink, tink, tink, and talking all the time. He recited a sort of litany as the chief's representative: "If you want shelter, my hut is yours; if you are in trouble, my warriors are yours; if you are hungry, the food of my land is yours; if you ever make war upon me, if you ever steal from me, if you ever wound me",--and so on, the if-clauses continuing for half an hour, "may you die!" Then Mbutu got up and followed in a similar strain on Tom's behalf, after which the chief presented Tom with a small cube of ivory, and Tom in return gave him the only thing he had of his own, a trouser-button. The blood-brothers then heartily shook hands, and the assembled multitude shouted the name by which the new brother was to be known among them--Okubokokuru, which, being interpreted, means "Strong in the Arm". Tom expressed his gratification at this mark of respect, but pleaded that his new name might be shortened; and the chief announced that his brother was to be officially known as Kuboko.
No further news had yet been received of the approaching enemy. Tom was longing to see a white face again, but he reflected that all his friends must now have given him up, and that a few days more would make little difference. Besides, he felt the military instinct alive in him. He was keen to set his wits once more against the Arab cunning, and when he seriously thought over it he did not regret his impulsive promise to stand by his new friends.
"Barega," he said, with a familiarity justified by his new relationship, on the day after the ceremony, "if we are to defeat these Arabs we must set about preparations in earnest. Your scout said they were twelve marches away; twelve has now become ten. We have ten days. How many fighting-men have you?"
The chief replied that he had one hundred and fifty Bahima spearmen, and four hundred and fifty Bairo, some of whom had spears, the rest bows and arrows. They all had small oval shields, made of light basket-work, with a large central boss of wood. Tom had already seen and examined their weapons in the course of his walks about the village. The Bahima spear had a long wooden shaft and an iron head with two blood-courses, one on each side of the central rib. The Bairo spear was of ruder construction, the head containing a depression on one side answering to a ridge on the other. The bow was about four feet long, with a string of sheep-gut, and the arrows, eighteen inches in length, had barbed heads.
"Not poisoned, I hope?" said Tom, as Barega called up a Muiro to show his weapon. He was answered in the negative. The quiver was a long tube of hard white-wood, with a wooden cap at each end, and was worn slung by a string across the shoulder. Striking designs had been burnt out in a kind of poker-work on the wood, and Tom was delighted with the artistic taste they displayed. Inside the quiver, besides some dozen arrows, a fire-stick was kept.
"Your arms are pretty serviceable so far as they go," said Tom. "You haven't any guns, I suppose?"
The chief produced a few old rusty flint-locks, along with the three muskets taken from the Arabs, but as he had no ammunition they were in any case useless.
"Well now, how is the village prepared to stand an assault? It is impregnable on the north-east and east, I should say, owing to the precipice. The path up to the north gate is steep, and therefore an attack in that direction might be easily beaten off; but on the west and south, as well as on the south-east, your stockade, I am afraid, is easily scaleable. I would suggest that you dig a trench, Barega, outside the stockade, and fill it with water from the stream. And look here, don't you think you could make your men work? You'll never get things done if you leave them entirely to the women, and in my country, you know, we'd think precious little of a man who made his women do everything."
Stimulated by Tom's energy, the chief set the whole of his people to work. Unluckily, the Bahima not being an agricultural people, they had only their broad knife-blades to use, though the Bairo were well supplied with crude implements. Making the best of things, and impressing even the children into the task, Tom had the satisfaction, after eight days' strenuous labour, of seeing the vulnerable part of the stockade defended by a trench six feet deep and fifteen across. It was not carried right up to the stockade for fear of loosening the fencing, but the interval was planted with sharp stakes, forming a chevaux-de-frise. Under Tom's supervision a drawbridge of wattles was rapidly constructed and thrown over the trench at the southern gate. The huts outside the stockade, which would afford good cover for an enemy, were cleared away, the owners being accommodated with new huts within.
There were now only two days left before the Arabs, at the earliest, could arrive, and Tom, thinking over the probabilities and possibilities, and as yet ignorant of the size and composition of the Arab force, wondered whether the attack might resolve itself into a siege. It might of course be beaten back once for all; still, it was well to be prepared. He advised the chief, therefore, to lay in a large stock of provisions, both animal and vegetable. A good many cattle could at a pinch be herded inside the stockade, and the flesh of slaughtered animals could be kept sweet under running water, in little streamlets diverted from the brook, or preserved in pans of salt. Great quantities of bananas, potatoes, maize, and other crops were got in and stored in the village, until Tom was assured that there was enough food collected to feed the whole population for at least a month on full rations.
On the eleventh day, walking round once more with Barega, to see that nothing had been left undone, Tom observed that one precaution had been neglected. Three hundred yards to the south-east of the village there was a somewhat extensive banana plantation, bounded on the west by the brook. This would afford excellent cover to an attacking force armed with rifles, and it seemed to Tom that it ought to be cut down, a course he at once suggested to the chief. But Barega did not appreciate the tactical point involved, and refused to allow the plantation to be touched. Besides, as he said with some truth, there was barely time to cut it down if the Arabs were to show themselves next day. Accordingly Tom had to remain satisfied with what he had achieved. He was indeed rather surprised at finding so many of his suggestions adopted without demur, and was inclined to ascribe it to Mbutu, who, as he discovered, was constantly singing his master's praises and dwelling on his brilliant fighting qualities. But he really owed much more to his own tact, and to the care with which he thought out his proposals before he placed them before Barega. No man is quicker than the African native to appreciate real force of character.
Scouts had been sent out to the north and east, the directions from which the Arabs were presumed likely to come--men familiar with the forest, who could be trusted to find food for themselves and remain invisible. No tidings had yet arrived of the enemy's near approach, but Tom did not allow the grass to grow under his feet. There were several smithies in the village, fenced off from the inhabited part, and here Tom kept the smiths constantly employed in sharpening spears and tipping new-made arrows. He found means also of still further improving his defences. Barega told him, as they were talking over their plans, that the Arab attack was almost certain to be made in a half-light, just before dawn. The question at once occurred to Tom: Could not the trench be disguised so that the enemy might flounder into it unawares? No sooner was the question put than the chief slapped his thigh, and cried: "Yes". In his hunting he frequently covered over his elephant-pits in such a way that the animals trod unsuspiciously upon what seemed to be solid earth, and fell helplessly into the hole. The same plan could be pursued now. No time was lost; bushels of light branches and twigs were speedily obtained from the woods and laid across the ditch, then covered with earth and rubbish until the surface, except to a most critical eye, could not be distinguished from the surrounding soil. Just before sunset, Tom walked all round the village, along the edge of the trench, and, from his inspection, he felt confident that a rapidly-moving enemy would never discover the trap.
The twelve days were past, and still there was no sign or news of the Arabs. Sentries were posted every night at short intervals inside the stockade, and more than once Tom himself went the rounds in the middle of the night to see that all was well. Late on the thirteenth day a scout came in, tired and famished, with the news that the Arabs were within two days' march. They had been harassed and delayed by pigmies, who had dogged them almost all the way, and had given cruel proofs of the sureness of their aim and the virulence of their poisons. Soon afterwards other scouts returned, confirming this information. Tom's eyes gleamed at the prospect of a stiff fight. He got the chief to call a council of his principal men, and to them he suggested a plan of operations.
"Brothers," he said, "it is agreed that you trust me. I am young, as you see; I have not fought so many fights as Barega here; my friend Msala is as brave as a lion--either might well lead you to victory. But the white men--your cousins--have handed down from father to son many stories of great fights, and these are in my mind. Have I done well up to this time?"
"You have," was the ready and unanimous answer.
"Then hear me when I tell what, with your approval, I think we should do. The enemy will come up to our trench on the south and west; they will stumble into it and be thrown into confusion. I will lead a picked band of men out of the south gate, and my brother Barega another out of the north gate. We shall thus have the Arabs between us, and we will advance to meet each other, pressing them all the way. At the same time Msala will direct the warriors in the village to assail the enemy with a thick shower of spears and arrows, taking care to hit the Arabs, and not their own friends. Is it understood?"
The assembly grunted approval.
"Then, Barega, do you at once select a hundred of your steadiest men for yourself, and a hundred also for me, so that all things may be ready when the enemy appears."
The arrangements were rapidly made. Every warrior in the village had his appointed place; a number of the cattle were brought in and tethered within the stockades, the rest were driven away to the south under the charge of armed herdsmen, who were instructed to elude the enemy to the best of their ability.
On the next day the force in the village was swelled by the accession of two separate bands of Ruanda, whose hamlets had been destroyed by the Arabs, and who had flocked to the protection of Barega. The same evening the last of the scouts came in, with the news that the enemy had been hastening their march and were bound to arrive next day. He put their numbers at five thousand, but Tom knew enough of the African character to be assured that this estimate was far in excess of the actual number, and he took the information very quietly.
Now that an attack was imminent, he advised Barega to call a mass-meeting of the inhabitants. Standing in the midst of the circle of negroes, whose kind treatment of him forbade their being called savages, he felt a deep sense of his responsibility, and spoke with special seriousness.
"Bahima and Bairo," he said, "you are all my brothers and sisters. I believe that I am doing right in helping you to defeat the enemy who has caused so much misery to you and to all your race. Please God, we shall defeat them. We must all do our best--some to give orders, others to obey. My sisters, you will stay with your children in the middle of the village. The Arabs will have fire-sticks, and there is no need for any of you to run into danger. Your husbands will defend you, and strike hard for their homes."
Speeches at greater length were delivered by the chief and the katikiro. The people were deeply impressed; never had they gone to war in any such way before; and Tom on his side was struck with their intelligence, and the eagerness they showed to follow instructions so novel to them. He was a little uncertain of the steadiness of the Bairo, who were more impetuous and less docile than the Bahima; but they had been divided into companies under Bahima officers, and Tom himself had put them through a little drill in the brief intervals left by their task of fortifying the village. All that he feared was that they might break out in wild rushes, after the undisciplined negro's manner, and leave the stockade insufficiently defended.
Next morning, just as light was breaking, the sentries gave word that the enemy was advancing. Tom, waked by Mbutu out of a long quiet sleep, hastened to his post at the southern gate. For days he had been hammering it home into the negroes' heads that silence was a strong weapon on their side, but the negro cannot change his nature in a week, and as soon as the news had run through the camp, the eager warriors came clamorously out of their huts to the stockade. Tom bade them keep out of sight, and the enemy, advancing rapidly in crescent-shaped formation stretching from south-east to north-west, must have believed that the noise was merely the usual morning bustle in a large village. On they came, Arabs mingled with Manyema, in perfect silence and fair order, confident of finding easy access to their expected prize. The horns of the crescent reached the trench; twenty men at each extremity stepped heedlessly on to it, and instantly they were in the water, floundering beyond their depth. Loud cries of dismay filled the air; the rest of the force halted in amazement, scarcely able in the faint light to perceive what had happened. Then the deep boom of a drum rolled from the village, over the precipice, into the wooded plain.
Instantly a thick cloud of missiles flew from the stockade, arrows whizzed, spears hurtled through the air. At the same moment, Tom, with his hundred, sallied out from the southern gate, the men raising a fierce whoop of exultation. From the northern gate, after a barely perceptible interval, came an answering cry; and within the stockade the warriors, hurling their weapons at the centre of the Arab line, added their shouts to the din. The confusion of the Arabs was too great to permit of their firing a volley; a few separate slugs fell among the Bahima, and ill-aimed spears struck down a few. But the troops of Tom and Barega were pressing hard upon the extremities of their line; they were driven in towards the centre. An attempt was made by their leaders to rank them in some sort of order, but the necessity of facing two ways at once baffled their efforts; the Bahima were upon them in a wild charge, and with cries of mingled fright and disappointment they broke and ran.
With yells of triumph the Bahima dashed in pursuit. But the sun was now peeping, large and red, over a distant ridge, and by its light Tom saw a fresh and well-ordered body of men advancing to the support of the fugitives. Divining that this was the Arab reserve, he ordered his drummer to beat the recall, at the very instant when the enemy, even at the risk of killing their own men, opened fire. The command was timely, for the Bahima, unaccustomed to the fire of muskets, already showed signs of trepidation. His drum was answered by the chief's, and the two bands retreated to their several gates, followed by the hostile force, their return being covered by a hot discharge of missiles from the stockade. After some hesitation, the enemy drew off to reconsider their plan of attack, pursued by a loud chorus of derisive yells.
Tom had not the heart to check the self congratulation of the people, who celebrated their victory with song and dance. Victorious, certainly, had they been, but Tom, cool in the midst of the excitement, had carefully scanned the opposing forces to estimate their strength, and he saw that Barega's warriors were greatly outnumbered. They were no more than six hundred fighting men all told, while the enemy, as nearly as he could tell, consisted of at least three times that number, some ninety of them being Arabs, and the rest Manyema. The success of the Bahima was evidently due solely to the surprise and confusion of the enemy, for, even with the advantage of the stockade, they could scarcely hope to outmatch a force so much larger, armed, moreover, as two hundred and fifty of them were, with muskets and rifles. The Bahima losses so far had been few; two men had been killed and five wounded, of whom two died later. Of the enemy, six Arabs and about thirty Manyema had been left upon the field, and others, doubtless, lay drowned at the bottom of the ditch. It was with some anxiety that Tom awaited the dawn of the next day. He passed a sleepless night, framing many conjectures as to the enemy's further operations, and thinking out plans for their discomfiture. But morning broke in silence; Tom wondered whether spear and shield were to remain idle. Looking over the stockade about ten o'clock, he saw a movement amid a clump of trees about half a mile up the slope to the south-west, and, carrying his eye downwards to the north-west, he observed similar evidences of activity in the thicker woods in that direction also. Before he had quite realized what this might portend, a large body of the enemy emerged from each clump, many of the men carrying what appeared to be a kind of trellis-work. Their object flashed instantly into Tom's mind; they were going to bridge the trench. Drums beat, and Bahima and Bairo rushed to the points threatened; but the enemy halted just out of range of their arrows, and, under cover of a phalanx of native shields, prepared to rush their extemporized bridge across the ditch.
Behind the stockade the defenders were keenly alert; Barega had command of the north-western section, and the katikiro, who, genial time-server as he was in peace, was a very paladin in war, commanded on the south-west. Seeing that all along the western boundary the defence was in good hands, Tom hastened to the south-east to assure himself that no danger need be feared in that direction. Barely half a minute after he reached a smithy in the south-eastern corner, from the yard of which he could scan the whole country to the horizon, he saw a strong body of men spring out of the banana plantation he had vainly urged Barega to cut down. They, like their fellows on the other side, had with them a long piece of trellis-work. Evidently there was not a moment to lose. Tom despatched Mbutu to inform Barega of the danger; but so quickly did the enemy move, that in less than two minutes they had arrived at the edge of the ditch, flung the trellis bridge across, and begun to swarm over to the other side, nimbly evading the planted stakes.
Tom looked around. Only some ten men were within call. Summoning these to his assistance, he turned to defend the stockade. He had no weapon but the musket got in the forest, and that, in default of ammunition, he could only use as a club. By the side of the smith's rude anvil he saw a recently-sharpened sickle, with a handle eighteen inches long. This he seized, and sprang to his post again. Some twenty of the enemy, he saw, bore light scaling-ladders, hastily constructed since the previous fight. These they placed against the stockade and began to clamber up. There was a fierce hand-to-hand fight. Tom caught hold of the top of one of the ladders, on which two Arabs were ascending, and putting forth his utmost strength, flung it back so that it fell on the climbers. Some of the Bahima were thrusting their spears through interstices in the stockade, and cries of agony bore witness to their success. But for every man that fell another sprang up to take his place. Already several of the enemy had reached the tops of their ladders, and were firing, fortunately with erratic aim, at the panting defenders. Three, indeed, had clambered down on the inner side, and still there was no sign of the expected reinforcements. Tom had been slashing with his sickle in his right hand, and warding off with the musket in his left the blows of Arab swords and Manyema spears. Seeing three of the enemy within his lines, he was down in a moment at the foot of the stockade. One of the three he clubbed with his musket, and then, while Mbutu, who returned at this moment, fiercely engaged the second, he pressed hotly upon the third. Two of the Bahima were prostrate; the remaining eight were vainly attempting to stem the torrent now pouring over the palisade, and Tom was in the thick of the mêlée, laying about him doughtily. It was a tense moment; Tom and his little band were outnumbered ten to one; and the fate of the village hung in the balance. The enemy were creeping up behind for a final rush, when the katikiro charged down at the head of two hundred yelling Bairo. The stockade was cleared in a few seconds and the baffled enemy driven back over the ditch.
"Whew!" blew Tom, and then for the first time became aware that he had received a slight spear-wound in the right arm. "Blood-brother indeed!" he said with a smile to the katikiro. "But Msala, my friend, you were only just in time. In a minute or two it would have been another case of what-d'ye-call-him against the world. Why were you so long bringing up reinforcements?"
The katikiro was exceedingly sorry, but just before Mbutu had reached him a similar request had been made by the chief, and he had felt bound, of course, to obey his chief first. But it turned out after all to be a mere waste of time, for the enemy in the north-west quarter, while making an extremely blusterous demonstration, had never come within striking distance, and Msala had soon recognized that their show of activity was a mere feint to draw off attention from the real attack at the other end. Tom saw that the delay had been unavoidable, and could only be thankful that the much-needed support had come after all in the very nick of time.
The brief rest was a boon; but the enemy were not routed, nor even definitively driven off. They were still clinging to their position outside the stockade, and the Bahima could not get at them without exposing themselves, nor even assail them effectively with their spears, for the Arabs had rifles, and were indeed dropping shots over into the village. It was clearly necessary to put a stop to these offensive tactics, and Tom was perplexed as to what measure to adopt. Suddenly the idea occurred to him: could he try a few fireballs? Vague recollections came to him of something he had read about fireballs in defence of towns during the wars in the Netherlands. He had noticed plenty of coarse wool of sheep and goats in the village; there were heaps of shavings where the artificers had been making spear-shafts; and the place was reeking with fat of various kinds. He knew also that there was a large store of the native spirituous liquors, museru and marwa, in a shed near the hut of the chief's cook and purveyor, the muchumbi wanyama, and he thought it would be rather a good than an evil if some of the spirits were consumed externally. He therefore left the katikiro in command while he himself went to consult the chief.
Barega was charmed with the simplicity and ingenuity of the notion of worrying the enemy with fireballs, but somewhat downcast when he learnt the use to which his wine-cellar was to be put. Thereupon Tom, with the tact that had marked all his dealing with the natives, did not insist, but quietly pointed out that if the Arabs got in, they would set fire to the village, and the spirits would be destroyed with all the rest. It was surely better to use half of it in doing some mischief among the enemy, and perhaps by this means decisively turn the scale.
The chief thought over the matter, consulted the kasegara, and finally, with an obvious wrench, gave his consent to the course Kuboko proposed. No more time was lost; twenty natives were immediately set to roll up balls about six inches in diameter, made of wool and shavings and fat, and anything else combustible that came to hand, and finally steeped in the heady spirit. When some hundred balls were ready, Tom had them carried to his old post, where the Arabs were once more attempting to scale the stockade. They were lighted and thrown in rapid succession over the stockade on to the trellis-bridge. The Arabs at first tried to quench the fallen balls, but others came flaming through the air still more rapidly, and after some score had been thrown, fearing that their retreat over the ditch was likely to be cut off by the burning of their bridge, the enemy threw up the sponge and beat a hasty retreat. As they retired, the Bahima gave a tremendous whoop, and sent a cloud of arrows and spears after them, causing many a gap in their ranks. They fled on in rage and confusion, and vanished behind the plantation.
"Ah! I think they've had enough," said Tom. "Barega, my brother, what do you think of our morning's work?"
Barega confessed himself "pleased too much", as Mbutu interpreted him. "Say one fing, sah; say no want no more museru wasted!"
"Good heavens!" was Tom's thought, "it's all got to be argued again. Wasted! As Mr. Barkworth would say, 'There's no gratitude in these natives!'" But all he said was: "Tell the chief that I hope we shall need no more of his excellent stuff, and that I consider he has shown a fine spirit of self-denial for the common good. The scamp!" he added under his breath; "he ought to be as pleased as Punch!"
Tom was in the highest spirits. He felt confident now that the resources at his command were sufficient to defend the village against all attacks in force, and he hoped that the enemy would appreciate the situation and relinquish their enterprise.
The rest of that day passed uneventfully. At night sentries were posted as usual, and none of the precautions were relaxed; but there was no attack. The day slipped by with the same tranquillity. Parties of the enemy were seen at times, but they were always out of range, and, so far as could be ascertained from the village, were not making any preparations for renewing the assault. That night Tom, walking round by the stockade the last thing before turning in, noticed that at short intervals from the north gate round the western and southern sides to the extreme south-east corner, where the ground shelved down rapidly to the foot of the precipice, large watch-fires were burning, which had not previously been the case.
"What does that mean?" he thought. "Are they going to make a regular siege of it? I hope not, for to be cooped up here for another week would be awful. I'd give something for a newspaper, or Ranjy's cricket book, or even Euclid--yes, by Jove, even old quod erat demonstrandum--to help pass the time away. By the by, I'll be forgetting all my maths out here, and if I'm to stick to engineering that'll never do. Well, if it turns out a siege, I'll set myself a few stiff problems and correct the solutions experimentally, eh?--besides teaching these beggars something of infantry drill. Heigh-ho! 'the heathen in his blindness'--who'd have thought I should ever be living among 'em, and a blood-brother too!"
And as he walked back to his hut, in a fit of abstraction he began to whistle the tune of "From Greenland's icy mountains," to the great contentment of the katikiro lying awake.