Tom Burnaby: A Story of Uganda and the Great Congo Forest

by Herbert Strang

CHAPTER XIX: Tom's Armada

On the Trail--A Picked Force--Through the Great Forest--The Last of Mabruki--On the Lake Shore--Building a Flotilla--Floating Forts--The Island in the Lake--Forcing a Landing--A Parley--De Castro Expresses Himself--Preparing for the Attack--Mwonda the Dauntless--Fire and Sword--Rumaliza's House--De Castro's Last Shot

It was now one o'clock in the afternoon. For nine hours Tom and all his men had been afoot, engaged in one of the most arduous struggles that native Africa had known. The great fight so long anticipated was over; the dreaded power of Rumaliza, the centre of the hateful slave-traffic, was broken; Rumaliza himself, with his lieutenant Ahmed and many other of his principal coadjutors, lay on the field, and the shattered remnant of the force that left its distant stronghold in such warlike ardour and confidence was routed beyond hope of rallying. But Tom saw that his work was not yet completed. The fortress in the forest still remained. It was no doubt strongly garrisoned; the fugitives would naturally betake themselves thither; the survivors of De Castro's force and De Castro himself would gather there, and in course of time, though they could never expect to recover their old strength and prestige, they might repair their disaster sufficiently to menace for years to come the security and happiness of the weaker tribes. "I must destroy their scorpions' nest," said Tom to himself wearily; "when shall I see home again?"

He saw that his force was too much exhausted to carry operations further that day. Of less than four thousand men, at least five hundred lay dead and wounded; and their exertions had been so violent and so long-continued that the living and unwounded were fit for nothing but rest. Mbutu and the eight hundred who had so opportunely arrived with him were still apparently keeping up the pursuit, and it was impossible to make any detailed arrangements until they returned. Tom, therefore, sent off a messenger to the village with news of the victory, and with orders to the katikiro to bring up two hundred men with a stock of ammunition. He then went with a few of his body-guard to the Arabs' camp, where their vast horde of slave carriers must now be dealt with.

He found that the slaves, at least five thousand in number, had risen and overpowered their guards, and were working havoc among the effects of their late masters. At Tom's appearance they crowded round him, some of them recognizing him as the prisoner who had escaped months before from the clutches of Mustapha. The poor creatures were wild with delight at the discomfiture of the Arabs, and many of them threw themselves at Tom's feet and vowed that they were his, body and soul, to do with as he pleased. Seeing on them unmistakeable evidences of terrible suffering during their recent march--open sores, mutilated features, scars and weals made by the lash--Tom lost all compassion for the Arabs who had perished in the fight, and was strengthened in his resolve to visit the Arab stronghold and there complete the work he had begun.

He ordered his men to knock off the chains from their necks and ankles, and those who were thus liberated to assist in the work with their fellows. He ordered them also to collect the ammunition, stores, and camp furniture and carry them to the zariba, and then to dig deep trenches and bury the dead. The slaves were suffering greatly from want of water, and Tom informed them of the stream two miles to the south, and allowed them to go and refresh themselves at it, commanding them to report themselves before nightfall at the zariba, where he intended to camp for the night.

Two hours later Mbutu returned, accompanied by a portion of his force. They gave a great shout when Tom welcomed them, and Mbutu, his face beaming with joy, informed his master of his recent movements. With a quickness for grasping a military situation with which Tom had not credited him, he had seen the importance of preventing any considerable concentration of the fugitives, and sent small bodies of men to the right and left to guard the approaches to the forest, and thus prevent any junction of the scattered bands of Arabs and Manyema who had spread out fanwise in the course of their retreat.

"You have done splendidly, Mbutu," said Tom, patting him on the shoulder. "But why were you so late in bringing up the eight hundred men? We were almost at our last gasp."

Mbutu explained that when his brother reached the volcano he found the eight hundred men in a state of great perplexity at the non-appearance of Kuboko. They had waited and waited, expecting to be engaged in some enterprise of moment, and when hour after hour passed away, and day followed day, without their receiving any orders, they had grown angry. Some of them had wandered miles away to the south of the mountain to see if there was anything in that direction that seemed to call for them. When Mboda appeared and ordered them to return, it took some time to collect the dispersed bands, and though they had made all haste, they had found it impossible to march with any great speed over the broken country between the volcano and the village. Mbutu had met them, indeed, a few miles north of the village, and had brought them on, with the fresh men drawn from the garrison, as rapidly as possible. He was thankful "too much, too much," he said, that he had arrived at such a critical moment. To save time, he had chosen to risk wading across the swamp in preference to taking the longer circuit round it through the forest.

"And you did well," said Tom. "If you had gone the farther way we should have been overpowered, I fear. It was a stroke of genius, Mbutu. The art of generalship is to know when to take risks. Some people call it luck, but I can't see myself why luck should have such a happy knack of favouring the incapable."

Mbutu did not understand this speech, but he saw that his master was pleased with him, and he went with all cheerfulness and contentment to superintend the camping arrangements for the night, receiving willing assistance from Msala, who came up presently in a state of great delight, tempered by regret at his own enforced absence from the scene of the great battle. To please Mbutu, Tom then sent his brother Mboda with a small force into the forest to build a new stockade on the farther bank of the fordable stream, so as to block the way of any Arabs who might endeavour to retrace their steps over the central path.

Next morning, before returning to the village, Tom sent eight hundred of his best men, divided into several bands under trusty leaders, to dog the fugitive Arabs. Some were to scour the country on the outskirts of the forest, others to penetrate the forest itself, press forward beyond the new stockade, and watch every narrow cross-track, every possible alley, so as effectually to bar the retreat of the Arabs except by long circuitous routes on which, as the news of their defeat spread, they would be exposed to the attacks of the tribes they had ill-treated and oppressed. These scouting bodies were to carry with them sufficient food for three days, and at the end of that time to return.

Tom's march to the village was a triumphal progress. The people came out in their thousands to meet him, and in a great glad throng, amid the din of drums and loud songs of victory, escorted him to his head-quarters. Mwonga ordered several of his finest oxen to be killed for the victor's feast, and extensive preparations were made for high jubilation. Tom could not but be sympathetic towards the people's rejoicings, but he recognized the danger of their imagining that nothing remained to be done, and he determined at once to make the situation clear to them. Early in the afternoon he summoned all the chiefs to a council at some distance from the village, where they could deliberate without interrupting, or being interrupted by, the festal proceedings. When they were assembled he made a short address to them, in which he reviewed what had been accomplished, and clearly stated what had yet to be done.

"True, the Arabs are scattered," he said. "You have all done nobly. But many of your men have been killed; many of your women are widows and your children fatherless to-day. If your sacrifices, your toils, your wounds, are not to be useless, you must not stay your hands until this nest of venomous snakes is utterly destroyed. You must make one more effort, my brothers. It may not be a great one. The flower of the Arab army is destroyed; there cannot be more than a handful at their stronghold. Our successes hitherto will have encouraged you, and you will not fail to see that by one final blow you may destroy your enemies for ever. If, however, you let slip this opportunity, the Arabs will in time recover even from this great defeat, as they have recovered from defeats in the past, and by and by the old evil work of raiding for ivory and slaves will begin again. I myself will lead you to this Arab stronghold, and in a few weeks the impregnable fortress of which they boast shall be a heap of smoking ruins."

The majority of the chiefs shouted an instant assent to Kuboko's proposal, but some murmured discontentedly, and declared that they had done enough; the Arab stronghold was far away, and they wished to get back to their own villages and resume their ordinary life. Tom accepted the position good-humouredly.

"Let those who wish to go to their homes go," he said. "I understand their feeling. I myself long ardently to see my own home again. Let them go, then; and I thank them for their brave and willing services. But for the rest--I ask you, brothers, shall we sacrifice a little more, and make the Arabs drink to the dregs the bitter cup they have so often brewed for you their victims?"

"We will! we will!" cried most of the chiefs.

"It is well. Now, we have a long march before us, my brothers, but 'tis a long track that has no end. We shall reach their stronghold; we shall capture it, and if perchance a great booty, stores of ivory stolen from you, should fall into our hands, I promise you it shall be divided among you in proportion to the number of men you severally furnish."

The prospect of booty, conjoined with their deep-seated hatred of the Arabs and their exultation at their recent victory, made the chiefs all eagerness to attempt the new enterprise. Many of the murmurers were now among the most anxious to volunteer, and Tom was intensely amused as they tried with every appearance of artlessness to explain away their previous reluctance. He went on to say that he would not need all their men; he asked for only twelve hundred fighting men and as many carriers. But both carriers and warriors must be of the very best; he needed men who were strong and active, and, above all, prompt to obey. He arranged with the chiefs to make a selection during the next few days from among their contingents, and was secretly pleased when he found, as the work of selection proceeded, that the men who were not picked went about with dejected faces, and openly envied their comrades' good fortune.

From prisoners who had fallen into his hands Tom learnt that when the Arab force left, a garrison of about five hundred men remained in the island fortress. They were all Arabs, well armed, under the command of his old enemy Mustapha, and secure in their possession of a post which they deemed impregnable. Before he could reach it, Tom had no doubt that the garrison would be increased by the arrival of De Castro with the survivors from his luckless expedition, and also by a certain number of Rumaliza's force, who would succeed in evading pursuit and escaping the perils of the forest. He might also have to reckon with the overdue raiding-party from the north. But even though the defenders of the fortress should number nearly a thousand, Tom was confident that twelve hundred of his disciplined and seasoned men would suffice to reduce the place.

Several days were spent in choosing men and collecting stores. Tom could not resist Msala's plea to be allowed this time to take an active part by his side. Mwonda was one of his lieutenants as a matter of course, and Mbutu begged that his brother Mboda might accompany the expedition. There was no lack of arms and ammunition; the chief difficulty that faced Tom was that of provisioning his force during the march through the forest, which he expected, from information received from the prisoners, to occupy nearly a month. While the resources of the village and the surrounding country were being taxed to the uttermost, Tom sent a force of five hundred men into the forest to build a strong redoubt three days' march within its borders, and arranged with one of his allies, the chief of a small village still farther in the forest, destroyed by the Arabs in their advance, to return and rebuild his village, with entrenchments and fortifications. Both these places he decided to make depots for large stores of grain, in order to reduce the work of the carriers with the expedition, and to form reserves in case of a check.

It was a fine day in December, a week after the battle, when the expedition started. Tom was convinced that in point of physique no finer force ever set out on any military enterprise. During the week all that good food and regular drill could do had been done to bring the men into perfect condition, and, looking at their well-developed muscular frames and clear bright eyes, Tom felt proud to command them.

The redoubt was already built and stocked when the column reached it at the end of the third day's march. Two days later, on reaching the native chief's village, Tom was surprised to see what progress had been made with its reconstruction. Men, women, and children were hard at work, running up grass huts and stockading the whole enceinte. When the force resumed their march next morning, Tom felt that the expedition was beginning in earnest.

Then began the long march towards the Arab fortress, a march to which Tom always looked back with mingled pleasure and pain. His previous acquaintance with the great Congo Forest had been made in a time of such stress, anxiety, and illness that he had missed many things which now, as he marched with a large confident force of warriors, he had more leisure to notice. The column was led by a company of pioneers to clear the path where it was overgrown with creepers and bush. Then came a company of musketeers, followed by pikemen, among whom Tom kept his place, accompanied by the ever-faithful Mbutu. Behind these trudged the carriers, strong straight men with no lumber about them, tramping along steadily beneath their burdens, poking fun at each other and at the men in front of them, laughing at any slight mishap that occurred during their progress. After these came the rest of the force, the officers placed among the men at intervals, big Mwonda being in command of the rearguard. The march began each day at 6.30 and continued until 11, when the column halted for dinner and rest; it was resumed at 12.30, and ended about 4 o'clock, to allow time for forming a camp before dark, and for stragglers to rejoin. Ten miles a day was the longest distance that could be traversed through the denser undergrowth, and Tom learnt from the Arab prisoners whom he had brought with him as guides that, allowing for delays caused by rivers to be crossed, felled trees to clamber over, detours to be made to avoid other obstacles, it would take him nearly three weeks to reach the lake in the midst of which the island-fortress stood.

Tom realized now for the first time what the worst difficulties of forest marching were. The ground was rank with vegetable corruption, the atmosphere with exhalations from myriads of dead insects, leaves, plants. At every pace his head, neck, arms, or clothes were caught by a tough creeper, a calamus thorn, a coarse brier, or a giant thistle-like plant, scratching and rending whatever portion they hooked on. Innumerable insects lent their aid to embarrass and worry him, especially the polished black ants, which dropped upon him from the leaves of trees as he passed, and inflicted bites worse than the wasp's sting, till his skin was swollen up in large white blisters. Yellow ants and termites also seemed to have an insatiable appetite, nibbling, gnawing, prowling all day long. There was the mantis, too, a strange insect five inches long, gaunt, weird, mysterious; and numbers of ladybirds, their brilliant red spotted with black. Tom heard the rustling of millions of tiny wings, the garrulous chirp of crickets, the buzz of ant-lions, the dull roar of bull-frogs. And over all the lower sounds was the crackle of twigs, the crash of falling branches, the creaking of the huge, thick-clad stems as they were brushed by the wind. There were leopard-scratches on the boles; a genet cat was occasionally seen; rhinoceroses and crocodiles were met at the broader streams; Tom was told several marvellous stories of the incredible strength of the sokos; once or twice some of his men assured him that they had caught sight of pigmies, who instantly disappeared as soon as they were observed. They gave no sign of hostility, and Tom congratulated himself on the fact that his saving of the pigmy woman's child seemed to have won for him the freedom of the forest.

There was very little to indicate that the path had already been traversed by a large Arab force. Occasionally the advance-guard came upon the remains of a human body, sometimes a mere skeleton with chains still about the neck and ankles--some poor slave left by the Arabs to die of starvation or by the more merciful agency of the wild beasts that haunted the forest shades. The native habit was to walk round these horrible obstructions in the path, but Tom had ordered his men to remove them into the forest.

On the sixth day of the march his foremost pioneer came running back to him in great excitement. He had come upon a dead body lying across the path, and he declared positively that it was the corpse of Mabruki.

Tom was at first incredulous, but on reaching the spot he saw that the figure stretched on the path was unmistakeably that of the medicine-man. He lay face downwards, and innumerable insects were already at work on his body; but he could not have been dead long, for there was no sign of mutilation by any wild beast. One of the men turned the body over, and then Tom saw a pigmy spear transfixing the traitor's breast. The weapon was evidently poisoned, for the twisted limbs and contorted features indicated that the hapless man had tasted death in one of its most terrible forms.

"Put him out of sight!" said Tom, shuddering as he passed on. He surmised that on escaping from the village to avoid the penalty due to his treason, Mabruki had struck due north and had used his knowledge of the forest to make his way by side tracks into the depths far from the main path. He had struck into that path when all fear of meeting Tom's men was gone, and then, while on his way to join the Arabs, or perhaps to foist his false magic upon some lesser chief, he had met with swift death at the hands of the Bambute.

The tragic end of the medicine-man made a deep impression on the natives. Many of them had believed that he was invulnerable to everything but superior magic, such as Kuboko's, and his death by so paltry a weapon as a pigmy's spear destroyed the last shred of their faith in him. Hearing now for the first time the story of his treason, they were quick to connect his fate with his crime, and said among themselves that white man's medicine certainly reached far and never failed.

Day followed day, and the march was little varied. Once or twice the column passed the sites of what had been small villages, now waste and desolate. The Arabs had burnt and destroyed every human habitation upon or near their path. There were streams here and there to be crossed, sometimes by fords, sometimes by tall trunks thrown across from bank to bank, once on a bridge consisting of a large tree submerged two feet below the surface. Whenever a temporary thinness in the foliage overhead allowed the sunlight to stream fully on the path, the spirits of the men seemed to respond, and they broke into song. Tom noticed the leader in these choruses, a tall handsome young fellow with a fine mellow voice, clearly a prime favourite with the men. His songs were composed on the spur of the moment, but they were picked up at once by his comrades, who raised the chorus in strange wild harmony, Tom had become so accustomed to the ingenuous adulation of the negroes that it no longer caused a pang to his modesty to hear himself made the subject of their pæans. One of their songs, roughly rendered in English, ran:--

"Sing, O friends, sing!

We are all warriors bold, and Kuboko is king.

Aha! Aha!

Strong is his arm and invincible; sing, brothers, sing!

Blithely we march. Ah! what will the enemy say?

On to the fortress; long is the way.

Then we will eat and drink, dance all the livelong day.

Aha! Aha!"

Thanks to the slow rate of marching, regulated by the pace of the carriers, to the good food-supply, and to the physical fitness of the men when they started, there had not been more than fifty cases of sickness in the column, when, after twenty days' marching, Tom learnt from his prisoners that he was but half a day from the lake in which the Arab fort was situated. He pitched his camp that evening with even more care than usual, and gave strict orders that no member of the force was to stir beyond its bounds without permission. He sent forward a few scouts to reconnoitre, and one of these reported, on his return to camp, that he had caught sight of several Arabs making their way rapidly towards the lake.

"The enemy's scouts!" thought Tom. "Well, we could not hope to surprise them."

He posted extra sentries that night, though he hardly expected an attack, and the hours of darkness passed without incident. By ten o'clock next morning, Tom, with the head of the column, had reached the lake side. It was a larger sheet of water than he had expected to see, extending as far as the eye could reach in a north-westerly direction, bordered to the very edge with dense forest and extensive banks of reeds. Some miles off, almost equidistant between the east and west shores, rose the island, a mass of dark green in the blue water. As the warriors came in sight of it they raised great shouts. Not one of them had seen it before, for the escape of a slave was an almost unknown event. Tom himself felt a strange thrill as he looked over the placid water and realized that that distant forest-covered islet was to be the scene of a stern fight. He stood gazing at it in silence, thinking of the long years during which it had been a hot-bed of cruelty and wrong, and he felt a thrill of joy at having attained the desire of his heart--the opportunity to strike at the head of the slave-dragon. "And," he said to himself, "please God, I will strike hard!"

No well-trodden path led to the lake side. The men had had to make a way for themselves through the underwood. On reaching the edge they came upon clear signs of human activity--a rough landing-stage of boards, litter and debris of all kinds. But no human being except Tom's own men was in sight, nor, so far as could be ascertained, was any boat moored along the shore, though the banks of reeds might well conceal many craft.

"Mbutu," said Tom, "clamber up that tall tree and tell me what you see."

Mbutu, agile as a monkey, was soon swarming up a straight trunk.

"I see a boat!" he cried, when he came near the top. "Long, long way; go dis way"--he waved his arm from east to west. "Go from shore to island. Small canoe; four men. No more, sah."

Tom called up a prisoner, and, questioning him, learnt that the canoe was probably crossing at the shortest passage, requiring only half the time that would be taken from the point at which the expedition had struck the lake.

"Anything more to be seen, Mbutu?"

"No, sah, nuffin."

"Come down, then; we'll have to do a little scouting."

A path ran round the lake close to the edge, narrow and much overgrown, but evidently leading to the spot from which the canoe had started for the island. Tom sent fifty of his best scouts, under Mboda, to explore this path.

"If you come across any canoes, seize them," he said. "Don't fight if they are defended in force; they probably won't be worth losing lives for."

While the scouts were gone he ordered the men to form an entrenched camp. For all he knew the enemy might be lurking in the forest ready to take advantage of any slip, any sign of unwariness; and until he had located the Arabs, and, if possible, discovered what their strength was, it was impossible to form definite plans for an attack on the fortress.

Towards dusk Mboda returned with his men and reported that the path grew wider and less obstructed as it bent northward. They had seen one canoe, manned by a crew of half a dozen Manyema, who had shipped their paddles and jeered when they caught sight of the scouts. The best marksmen among these had tried a shot at the canoe, which, though it had fallen short, had been sufficient to set the men hastily paddling towards the island. Mboda had tried to see exactly where their landing-place was, but the shore of the island appeared to be an impenetrable wall of jungle.

When the evening meal had been eaten, and the camp-fires were lit, Tom sent for his prisoners again and subjected them to a further interrogation. He learnt that the lake was fed by a small river flowing from the north-east, as well as by numerous rivulets at other points. The surplus water escaped on the left, where it formed a fairly large stream. The mouth of the river on the north-east was fringed with dense clumps of reeds.

"Since there are apparently no canoes to be captured we shall have to make some," said Tom to himself; "and that will take time. I hope our stock of food will last till we capture the Arabs' stores. Dug-outs will be the easiest to make, I suppose. These men of mine have never made a canoe in their lives, I suspect. Msala," he said aloud to the katikiro, "could you make a canoe, do you think?"

Msala looked doubtful, but at length said that he thought he could if Kuboko would show him the way!

"Like the genius who had never played the fiddle, but thought he could if he tried!" thought Tom. "O wise man!" he said. "That's a good answer. I'll try to show you the way, though I've done nothing of the sort since I broke a dozen pen-knives carving a sailing-boat when I was a boy of twelve. The first question is, where are these canoes to be made, eh?"

Msala could give no assistance towards solving this problem, but Tom soon thought it out for himself. The outlet on the west was wide, the prisoner had said, and comparatively free from reeds. Operations there would run the risk of being disturbed, for no doubt the enemy possessed a considerable flotilla on the island. But the reeds at the mouth of the river on the north-east would serve as a screen, and a few sharpshooters carefully posted would easily defend the position against attack.

"That's the place, evidently," said Tom. "To-morrow morning, Msala, we'll start building our fleet. Now for sleep, my men--we must be up early in the morning."

Next day he ordered his men to build a block-house where he had emerged from the forest, so as to intercept any fugitive Arabs who might have found their way back to the lake, and to keep a general look-out. Leaving a garrison of two hundred men there, he started with the rest towards the north-east corner, which they reached after an arduous march of fifteen miles, the path having to be cut after they left the principal landing-stage opposite the eastern shore of the island. It happened to be a particularly bright and clear day, and at different points along the route Tom caught glimpses of the island, which enabled him to form a fairly good idea of its character and extent. He judged it to be about a mile long; it was covered with vegetation of the nature of jungle, tall forest-trees being conspicuously absent. The prisoners pointed out the exact spot, near the centre of the island, where the fort was situated, but so dense was the thicket that not a corner of it was visible. They explained that, while the forest-growth at the shore was allowed to remain in its pristine wildness, within this fringe and behind some plantations the ground had been cleared, and the fort, capable of containing two thousand men, had been built on a slight eminence in the very centre of the island. It consisted of a double row of palisades, fifteen feet in height, the exterior palisade being defended throughout its whole circuit by a glacis, with a slope of one foot in four.

"So there are two difficulties to surmount," thought Tom. "First, the difficulty of reaching the island and landing my men; then the difficulty of storming a fort defended by such high outworks and a glacis to boot. It's a case of scaling-ladders as well as canoes. A great piece of luck that I thought of bringing so many artificers among the carriers."

When the force reached the mouth of the river, it was too late to begin the work of constructing canoes. Tom ordered his men to make an entrenched camp, and to throw up a special earthwork behind the screen of reeds, where a company of picked marksmen could easily defend the canoe-makers from attack. Early next morning Tom set all his men who had axes to fell the largest and straightest teak in the forest, a few hundred feet from the shore. When the trees were felled, another band of men was set to strip off the foliage and bark, and so quickly did they work that by nightfall a large number of huge logs lay ready for scooping out, varying in length from forty to sixty-five feet. Tom saw that he would need a fleet of about forty-five canoes if he intended to convey all his force to the island at one time, as would probably be necessary. He therefore selected the requisite number of trees himself, and while the carriers were felling these he instructed the warriors how to dig them out. He divided them into gangs of twenty to thirty, each gang to form one canoe crew, and he set these to fashion their own craft. He marked off equal lengths along the logs, and gave each man his own portion to scoop out with knife or pike-head, encouraging them to work hard by the promise of a reward to the man who finished his portion first. They all worked with a will, driving their tools into the wood with unfaltering zeal, and showing much interest in their novel work.

While the digging-out was in progress, Tom employed other men in making thwarts and rough paddles, and the best carpenters in constructing scaling-ladders. After ten days' work he was in possession of forty-five dug-outs, with their due equipment of paddles, and fifty ladders ten feet high. The canoes were, of course, keelless, and Tom knew that they were bound to sway and roll with the slightest movement of the body; but fortunately there was little likelihood of their having to encounter rough weather, and he hoped that they would suffice to convey his men across the four miles separating the lake shore at this point from the island. "They'll do as well as Napoleon's flat-bottom boats, I expect," he thought; "or better, for his invasion never came off, and mine will."

The work had not been carried on for ten days without molestation. Every day canoes came from the island, filled with armed men, evidently curious to learn what was going on out of sight. On the first day they paddled towards the mouth of the river, and Tom ordered his men behind the earthwork to allow them to approach well within gunshot, and then to let them have a sharp volley. The canoes came within fifty yards of the concealed marksmen without suspecting their danger, and at least half the men on board were hit when the Bahima opened fire. The survivors paddled away in frantic haste, and ever after that the canoes kept out of harm's way, the Arabs contenting themselves with patrolling the lake, in cheerful assurance that their fortress was impregnable. All this time Tom sent scouting-parties regularly along the shore, from whom he learnt that at several points on the western side there were large clearings, which appeared to have been slave settlements, and he concluded that the slaves had either been withdrawn into the island or sent deeper into the forest.

His preparations so far being complete--and none too soon, for the stock of food was running low,--Tom decided to make a reconnaissance towards the island. He first tested some of his canoes on the river, out of sight from the Arabs, employing a few men who knew how to paddle, and found to his great pleasure that, though clumsy and incapable of being propelled swiftly, they rode the water fairly upright, and were safe enough in a calm. He therefore ordered his men to launch half a dozen of the canoes at the mouth of the river, and with these fully manned with riflemen he moved slowly towards the island. The movement was instantly observed; hardly a minute had elapsed before a fleet of twenty light, swift canoes, filled with armed Manyema, shot out from the island and made towards him. Recognizing that he could not hope to vie with them in speed, and that he could not approach the island so closely as he wished without running great risks, Tom ordered his men to paddle back, and regained his camp. A tremendous yell of delight from the Arabs' canoes, ringing clear over the still water, bore witness to the enemy's confidence, but Tom only smiled. He remembered reading, in one of Stanley's books, an account of how that great explorer had defended some canoes from attack in precisely similar circumstances, and once more he found his recollection serve him well. He sent his men into the forest, some to cut long poles an inch thick, others to cut poles three inches thick and seven feet long, a third band to cut straight long trees four inches thick, and a fourth to remove the bark from all these and make bark-rope. While this was being done Tom selected three of the longest canoes, and had them drawn up parallel to one another near the water's edge, and four feet apart. As the stripped trees were brought up they were laid across the canoes, and lashed firmly to the thwarts with the bark-rope. Then the seven-foot poles were lashed in an upright position to the thwarts of the outer canoes at the extreme edge, and the inch-thick rods were twisted in and out among these uprights, just as gipsies make baskets. After this, thin saplings were woven in through any remaining interstices, and at the end of the day the structure resembled a huge oblong stockade of basket-work, sixty-five feet long and twenty-seven feet wide. A gap having been cut in one of its faces, and a rough gate made, the contrivance was complete.

Next morning Tom went to a distance of three hundred yards and tried a shot at the stockade with one of his men's rifles. The bullet penetrated the wall, but fell dead inside. He then ordered his men to collect reeds and large leaves from the toughest plants they could find, and with these to line the inside of the palisade. When this was done he tried another shot, and found that the bullet embedded itself in the lining. Delighted with the assurance that the structure was practically bullet-proof, he next instructed his men to make loopholes at intervals along the sides, and then ordered eight hundred of the carriers to haul and push the strange, awkward-looking fort to the water. He then sent sixty paddlers to take their places on the thwarts, and a hundred and fifty musketeers to find room among them. He was in some anxiety lest with its full complement of men the fort should be too heavy to float, but a few moments' paddling convinced him that, unwieldy as it was, it would ride the water, though to propel it with any speed was out of the question. A great shout of applause burst from the onlookers as the floating fort moved a few yards towards the lake. Tom ordered it back, stepped on board, closed the gate, and started on his reconnaissance.

The warriors left on shore watched the progress of the strange craft across the lake. It went on slowly and steadily towards the island, and reached the middle of the channel before any sign of movement was made by the enemy. Then forty canoes swept out swiftly from the island's green bank, and in one of the foremost, as it came more clearly in sight, Tom, spying through one of the loopholes, saw his old enemy De Castro. The canoes came on rapidly; when within four hundred yards they stopped dead, and the men on board of them opened fire. The worst marksman could hardly have missed so huge a target, and the exposed wall of the redoubt rang with the impact of hundreds of bullets, only a few of which penetrated, to fall quite harmlessly in the water between the canoes. Tom then ordered the paddlers to slew the fort round, so that it presented one of its longer sides to the enemy, and a few moments later a volley burst from the loopholes, doing considerable damage among the crowded craft of the Arabs. Seeing that the inventiveness of the English lad had once more proved too much for him, De Castro, with a curse, ordered his men to paddle back to the island, and Tom was left to make his reconnaissance unmolested.

Slowly the unwieldy mass moved round the island--slowly, steadily, like some uncouth leviathan. Even Tom's own men on shore, who had seen it made, watched it with awe, and some of them cried out that it was a spirit in monstrous shape. As he circumnavigated the island, Tom kept a keen look-out towards it, and found that there were several possible landing-places, the shore being comparatively low. Deciding that the most convenient point of debarkation was a sparsely wooded tongue of land at the south-east corner, Tom made a careful mental note of the whole position, and returned to his own quarters, well satisfied with his day's work.

The next two days were spent in constructing two similar floating redoubts, and in practising the men in paddling, for the majority of them were helpless on the water. Tom was loth to delay his attack, and feared that De Castro might make an attempt to escape. He therefore withdrew half the men from the block-house at the edge of the forest, and kept them, along with men from his force, constantly patrolling the shores of the lake, to watch for any movement from the island. His fears were groundless, as he afterwards discovered. De Castro did indeed suggest to Mustapha that the principal men should decamp with the treasure, leaving the fort to its fate, but the Arab curtly refused. He had sworn an oath on the Koran before Rumaliza's departure to defend the treasure till the last, and he himself had a bone to pick with the audacious English youth who had tied him up with his own rope in his own hut. He was, besides, so positive that the enemy, even if he effected a landing, would fling himself in vain against the defences, that he scoffed at De Castro's fears and taunted him with cowardice.

At dawn on a bright January day Tom set forth on his momentous enterprise. The three redoubts, each with two hundred men on board, led the way, followed by thirty canoes fully manned, these last containing the worst marksmen in the force. Tom half expected that the enemy, having already proved their helplessness against the floating forts, would make no attempt to oppose his landing; but he soon saw that his passage was not to be uncontested. Forty-five canoes came out to meet him. At a distance of a thousand yards the Arabs' flotilla divided into two squadrons, and, rowing three strokes to the one of Tom's paddlers, evidently intended to sweep behind the cumbrous redoubts and fall upon the canoes, a design which Tom at once took steps to defeat. He was himself in the centre redoubt. He ordered the other two to move off to right and left until there was a clear quarter of a mile between him and them. The formation of his flotilla had then roughly the shape of a bent bow, the three redoubts representing the arc and the canoes the angle formed by the stretched string. By thus extending his front, Tom compelled the Arabs to make a wide circuit. Even then they passed within range of the loopholed faces of the floating forts, and suffered severely from the merciless volleys poured out by the Bahima. Drawing out of range, they had just begun to converge behind the redoubts when Tom ordered these to stop, thus allowing time for his canoes behind to close up and pass between them. The position was now reversed, the bow being pointed in exactly the opposite direction, Tom's canoes nearest the island, and the Arabs' farthest away. Within his redoubt Tom could distinctly hear the wild threats and cries of De Castro as he ordered his men to swing round and paddle back to the island.

"He's afraid we shall be there first," said Tom with a smile to Mbutu.

His move had completely disconcerted the enemy, who abandoned outright the attempt to delay the progress of the flotilla, and made off at full speed to the island. There most of the armed men disembarked, and the unarmed paddlers, with a few Arab marksmen as guard, withdrew the canoes towards the north.

The Fight on the Lake

Tom's redoubt arrived without mishap off the spot selected for the landing, and was there met by a tremendous fusillade from the enemy concealed in the wood. Thanks to the stoutness of his palisade, he sustained no casualties, but it was evident that his men would suffer severely if they landed before the woods were cleared. He knew from his prisoners that thick copses stretched northwards and westwards from the tongue of land he had arrived at; about a hundred and fifty yards inland they gave place to plantations of pine-apples, bananas, and other fruits; then came another belt of wild woodland fifty yards deep. Judging from the hotness of the enemy's fire that the woods coming down to the shore were full of marksmen, he decided that these must at once be cleared. He ordered the separate canoes to stand off for the present out of range, and then sent two of the redoubts northwards to hug the shore, and halt about a hundred yards up, while he had his own redoubt propelled for the same distance to the west. At a given signal, the men in the redoubts opened fire through the loopholes, their fire crossing over the south-east corner of the island, enfilading the copses that commanded the landing-place. After half an hour of this, Tom came to the conclusion, from the sudden cessation of the enemy's fire, that they had abandoned their positions and fallen back into the belt of woodland nearer the fort. He therefore landed two hundred fighting-men from each of the two redoubts, unperceived by the Arabs, and sent one redoubt up coast northwards, and another to the west, to divert, if possible, the enemy's attention from movements in their front. Then, running his own redoubt on to the tongue of land, he ordered the canoes in the offing to paddle up swiftly and disembark their men, retaining the men in his own redoubt to protect the landing-parties. But no attack was made; the landing was quickly effected. Tom then threw open the gate of his redoubt, disembarked his fighting-men, and sent the redoubt back to the mainland to fetch the scaling-ladders, and a supply of food and ammunition, including a number of fire-balls he had brought with him from the village.

He had now more than a thousand men safely on the island. As soon as they were formed up, he led eight hundred forward to penetrate the copse, and, after discovering by means of skirmishers that the movements of the redoubts had, as he hoped, drawn off a large body of the enemy from his front, he threw his men across the plantations and into the farther wood. There, after a sharp fight, in which his men distinguished themselves by the nimbleness with which they worked forward under cover of the trees, he had the satisfaction of seeing the Arabs bolt across the open space beyond, and enter the fort by the gate in the outer stockade. Between himself and the glacis the land was absolutely clear of trees.

There were three gates to the fort, as Tom had learnt from the prisoners, one at the north, one at the east, and the one at the south by which the Arabs had just entered. Before sunset he had formed an entrenched camp opposite the eastern gate, into which he drew the whole of his force. Next morning he sent one redoubt, accompanied by five canoes, each way round the island to search for the Arab flotilla, surmising that the enemy, fearing an assault in front, would not venture to despatch a sufficient force to protect their boats. It turned out as he hoped. The redoubts returned in the afternoon, and reported that the enemy's canoes were found moored along the northern shore, under the charge of a mere handful of Manyema, who, when they saw the mysterious forts bearing remorselessly down upon them, did not wait to fire even one volley, but incontinently fled. Mwonda, who had been in command of the expedition, gleefully pointed to the long lines of canoes which he had brought back with him, towed by the redoubts and by the ten canoes which had accompanied them.

"Well done, Mwonda!" said Tom. "Now we will keep twenty of the captured canoes for our own use; the rest you can tow out into the lake and set on fire. We shall thus effectually prevent any of our enemy from escaping."

The men cheered wildly as they saw the blaze on the surface of the water, and clamoured to be led against the fort. But Tom called the katikiro, the kasegara, and other chief men to his side.

"My friends," he said to them, "I have come to beat the Arabs, as you know. But in the fights we have already had much blood has been shed. It would be right, I think, t avoid further loss of life, both among ourselves and among the enemy, for many of them, as you know, are Manyema, who only fight for the Arabs their masters, and would be incapable of mischief without their leaders. I propose, therefore, to invite Mustapha, the chief in command, to surrender."

Every member of the little council was absolutely averse to this unexpected proposal. Msala declared that he had come to kill Arabs; he would rather kill them in fair stand-up fight, but if they surrendered he would kill them all the same, so that no bloodshed would be saved among them at any rate.

"Msala," said Tom sternly, "you have ill learnt the lessons I have tried to teach you. If the Arabs surrender they shall not escape altogether, but they must not be killed. I should hand the leaders over to the Congo Free State to be tried by its courts, like the court of justice in our village, of which you are such an ornament, Msala. The rest of the enemy I should allow to go free, but without firearms, and thus incapable of doing further mischief."

The katikiro still raised objections, but Tom combated them one by one, and at last brought all the officials to agree to his proposal. Accordingly he called up Mboda, Mbutu's brother, as one of the most intelligent of the men with him, and sent him forward under a white flag to the gate of the fort, with directions to ask for Mustapha himself, and to deliver to him in form the summons to surrender. The messenger returned in about half an hour. He had spoken with Mustapha, who was accompanied by a little dark man with evil face. Mustapha had at first refused to treat, but at De Castro's request had at length agreed that a meeting should take place between the opposing leaders half-way between the camp and the fort. He proposed to come himself with two of his chief men, all unarmed, and he invited Kuboko to do likewise. Mboda had only just delivered this message when Mbutu broke in impetuously:

"Not go, sah," he said. "De Castro bad man; him come; him remember sah knock him down; him no friend; him no speak good words. Mustapha too; him tied; him berrah mad, oh yes! Not go, sah."

"Don't be afraid, Mbutu. There is honour among thieves. They have themselves proposed to come without arms. We shall merely have a talk, and be done with it. Go back, Mboda, and say that I agree to the proposal, and will meet Mustapha and his friends in an hour's time midway between our positions. Both sides, it is understood, will come unarmed."

An hour later Tom set off to the meeting, accompanied by Mwonda, and by Mboda as interpreter. He thought it well not to provoke the two hostile chiefs unnecessarily by bringing Mbutu before them, and Mbutu, much against his will, remained in the camp, his heart filled with misgiving. To relieve him, Tom said, just before he started:

"You can keep a sharp look-out, Mbutu, and if you do see any open movement of treachery, which for my part I do not expect, you will order a company of men to fire, taking care not to hit me or my friends, you know."

As he approached the meeting-place he saw three men issue from the gate of the fort. He looked at them with interest. There was his old enemy Mustapha, his opponent in single-handed fight, his captor, and his victim. By his side, dwarfed by the Arab's giant frame, was De Castro, his red shirt and yellow breeches seeming all the more gaudy beside the white robes of the Arabs. The third figure--it was with a start that Tom recognized Mahmoud the hakim, who had befriended him to the utmost of his power during his short captivity months before. The two little groups met in the open field, and bowed ceremoniously, no outward sign of recognition passing between Tom and the other side. Curiously scanning the features of the Portuguese, Tom almost found it in his heart to pity him. His face was lined and haggard, its expression was fierce and darker than ever; the iron of disappointment and defeat had evidently entered deep into his soul. He eyed Tom with an insolent and malignant scowl, and kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Mustapha was much more composed, preserving the impassivity so characteristic of his race.

Tom wasted no time in preliminaries. He gave no explanation of his presence there at the head of a great force of armed Bahima; he courteously but plainly stated the terms he had come to propose--unconditional surrender, the leaders to be placed in the hands of the Free State Government, their followers to be disarmed and dismissed. If these terms were not accepted the fort would be stormed. Mustapha looked at him in silence for a moment; then his eyes flashed, and he cried:

"You come to me to propose terms? You, my enemy! Know that you are in my power. You will storm my fort? You shall never enter it alive. I have waited for this day; my revenge has been long in coming, but it has come at last. I fought you by the river; would to Allah I had slain you! I kept you a captive and fed you; would that I had slain you then! Now is the third time; you shall not escape me."

De Castro, who had ill concealed his impatience, here took a step forward, spat upon the ground, and began to speak in broken English.

"I mock at you, I laugh at you, Inglese," he cried. "You dare threat us? Who has the greater army, I like to know? You take the fort! Bah! Is it a dog's kennel? You talk to me, eh? I talk to you, so; I say, you insolent puppy; you no take fort; no. You go back to your camp, and in a little while our army will come to you and drive you into the water. Bah, I spit at you!"

Tom paid no heed to the furious man's insolence. He turned quietly towards Mustapha, and with unruffled courtesy said:

"Have I your final answer?"

His manner evoked a corresponding politeness from the Arab, whose reply, as translated by Mboda, was simply:

"I have sworn an oath. I will not surrender. I will fight you."

Tom decided to make one more appeal. Addressing the hakim, who had stood hitherto gravely silent, he said in German:

"Mahmoud, my friend, cannot you persuade Mustapha, to abstain from a hopeless contest? You have all heard of my success till now. You, surely, do not doubt that I shall succeed again? You yourself were kind to me; I should be deeply grieved if, during the struggle that seems inevitable, any harm came to you. Will you not induce your chief to give way?"

The stately hakim looked with kindly eyes upon the young Englishman, whose earnest and friendly tone had touched him. Then he shook his head.

"I am an Arab," he said. "Whether we win or lose, whether we live or die, all rests with Allah. I am Mustapha's man."

"I am sorry," replied Tom, and was about to take leave when De Castro said suddenly:

"You speak French?"

"Yes."

Then, speaking rapidly in that language, De Castro suggested that Tom should give him a safe-conduct for himself and his property. In that case he promised to deliver up the fort; he cared nothing, he said, what then became of the Arabs. Tom looked at the traitor with silent scorn. The Portuguese quailed for a moment; then, his face livid with rage and mortification, he glared at Tom's accusing face, and burst out in Swahili, clearly for the benefit of Mustapha, who was looking at him with suspicion:

"Have you your answer, puppy? Will you go? To-morrow I will have you in the fort, tied to a post, and you shall not escape me again. Now I make you my bow."

With a low mocking inclination he turned away. Tom bowed to the Arabs, and also turned. At that instant De Castro wheeled round, whipped a revolver from his pocket, and fired point-blank at Tom. The shot missed, but struck Mwonda, immediately in front of Tom, and wounded him in the shoulder. The giant turned round with a roar like a bull's, and sprang towards his treacherous assailant. De Castro pointed his revolver again at Tom; the bullet whistled past his ear. Cursing his ill-luck, the Portuguese turned just in time to elude the raised arm of Mwonda, and at that moment a volley rang out from the camp; one of the bullets sped past Tom and hit De Castro's left arm. The revolver fell from his right hand, and with a howl of agony and rage he bolted up the field into the fort. Mustapha disdained to run; he walked back in his stately way, and escaped. The hakim was not so fortunate. As he was returning to the fort, a little behind Mustapha, he was shot through the back, and fell. Tom sprang to the fallen man, and at the same moment Mbutu, at the head of a hundred musketeers, came running out of the camp in desperate fear for his master's safety. Tom reached the hakim, lifted him in his arms, carried him a few steps, called Mboda to assist him, and hurried with the heavy burden towards his own camp just as a volley flashed from the fort. The shots were hasty and ill-directed, and, covered by Mbutu's company, who halted and poured a steady fire towards the fort, Tom and his two companions safely reached the shelter of their entrenchments, and, panting with their exertions, laid the unconscious hakim on the ground. Mbutu returned with his men immediately afterwards, the whole incident having occupied little more than a minute. Tom had much trouble in restraining his infuriated troops from rushing upon the fort without further delay.

"Wait, my men," he cried; "they shall pay to-morrow." And he turned to examine the hakim's wound.

Mahmoud died at dawn, having recovered consciousness for but one brief moment, during which he pressed Tom's hand, smiled at him with the same grave, wise smile, and murmured: "It is the will of Allah; all is well."

Tom buried him on a little hillock at the lake side. Then he set about his preparations for the final struggle, with a fierceness foreign to his nature. His heart was filled with bitter resentment against the dastard whose treachery had brought unnecessary death upon an innocent man. "Within twenty-four hours it shall be finished," he said to himself with grim resolution.

He did not underrate the difficulty of the task before him. From the number of canoes that had met him on the lake, and the number of men in them, he calculated that the garrison in the fort amounted to at least a thousand men. The five hundred left by Rumaliza had been increased by fugitives from his own and from De Castro's force, and further by a completely equipped force of two hundred and fifty men who had returned, a few days before Tom's arrival, from an expedition northwards. With such a garrison, and the advantage of a strong position behind a glacis which could be swept from end to end by rifle fire, the fort was obviously secure against direct attack with a force of only eleven hundred and fifty men. Investment, again, would not only be a very protracted affair, but was likely to fail, for the Arabs were no doubt well provisioned, while Tom had only a scanty stock of food. If they could have been deprived of water a siege would soon terminate, but Tom had learned from the prisoners that a constant supply was obtained from a deep well within the fort. The only method left was a night-attack, and after his previous experience De Castro would unquestionably be on his guard against surprise. Still, it seemed the only possible course, and Tom, after breakfast, sat down to think out the points involved.

The most common danger attending a night-attack--the risk of losing the way and stumbling on the enemy unawares--was absent. Further, the attackers could approach the palisade under cover of darkness with less risk of suffering serious loss by rifle fire than if the assault were made by daylight. By making feints in two or three quarters Tom could throw his main force in overwhelming strength on the real point of attack. And, last consideration of all, the Arabs had an inveterate repugnance to fighting by night, whereas his own troops had by repeated successes gained confidence in this respect. The only great disadvantage was that, unfamiliar as he was with the interior of the fort, he could not be sure in the darkness of directing the attack towards the most vulnerable points; but this drawback might be neutralized by a simple means he had at hand.

A night-attack was therefore decided on. Tom prayed that the night might be dark. He called up one of the prisoners, and made him draw a rough plan of the fort on a leaf torn from his pocket-book. Then he sent one of the redoubts to the mainland to fetch further stores and to bring back a number of carriers with knives and axes. When these arrived he set them to work in cutting a path through the bush on the east side of the island in order that his troops might move rapidly from place to place without being seen. While the carriers were engaged in this task a sudden shout from the south apprised him that something was happening in that quarter. In a few moments a messenger came up with the news that the enemy had made a sortie from the south gate with the evident intention of capturing the canoes, and had driven back the post placed between the plantations and the belt of copse. But this move had been already provided against. When the Arabs reached the shore they saw, to their chagrin, that the canoes lay two hundred yards out on the lake, under the protection of one of the floating forts. Tom sent three hundred men under the kasegara to intercept the enemy as they returned. The Bahima placed themselves just within the copse in a line parallel to the path leading to the gate, and poured in a hot fire at the Arabs as they hastened back. Mustapha, in the fort, was on the alert; he threw out a large force to cover the retreat of his men, and but for this it seemed likely that the sortie-party would have been cut off from their base and annihilated. As it was, they lost heavily, and no similar organized attempt was made during the rest of the day, though occasional shots were fired from the fort as if to show that the enemy was not napping.

Taking advantage of the freedom from serious interference, Tom devoted himself to his plan of operations. He decided that the real attack should be made, not from his camp, east of the fort, as the Arabs would no doubt expect, but from the south. The katikiro with two hundred men would make a feigned attack from a point north of the fort, and the kasegara with another two hundred would demonstrate vigorously against the east. Each of these feigned attacks would be accompanied with heavy rifle-fire, and, while they were in progress, Tom himself would lead a strong force against the southern portion of the palisade, from which he expected that most of the defenders would have been drawn off towards the apparent danger north and east.

At nightfall, then, Tom called his officers together and explained his plans. He was somewhat surprised to see Mwonda among them, for the giant had been badly wounded in the right shoulder. He was still more surprised to learn that the heroic negro had got a companion to cut the bullet out of his flesh, and had borne the terrible pain without so much as a groan. He came now, with his right shoulder bound up, and his musket in his left hand, determined to wreak vengeance in person for the treacherous blow dealt him.

"You are a brave fellow, Mwonda," said Tom. "You shall be in command of the northern force, and the katikiro shall stay with me. The kasegara will attack first, on the east, when I send him word, an hour before dawn. When you hear his rifles in play, Mwonda, you will make a sham attack on the north gate. Understand, you are both to keep up a heavy fire, and shout as loud as you like; but you are not to make a real attack until you get orders from me."

Since his arrival on the island Tom had taken no pains to preserve silence in the camp, and on this night he ordered companies of a hundred men, in addition to the usual sentries, to be kept awake in turn, each for an hour, so that their chatter might delude the enemy and cover up any sounds made by his troops as they moved to their positions. Two hours before dawn the movements began. Mwonda led his men northwards, being instructed to march as silently as possible. Tom, accompanied by Mbutu and Msala, went southwards with seven hundred men, leaving the kasegara in charge of the camp with orders to keep his men talking until he received the signal for beginning the sham attack. With Tom's men went fifty carriers with scaling-ladders, and before starting he ordered one man in five to take a fire-ball in addition to his gun or pike. When they reached the position he had decided on, he briefly explained what they were to do. Then he turned to Mbutu and the katikiro and said quietly:

"If I fall, press home the attack with all your might. The men will follow you if you only show them strong leadership. And, Mbutu, when the fight is over, if I am not alive, I trust to you to make your way to Kisumu, and tell my uncle, if he is there, or the English commander if he is not, all that has happened to me. That is my last request."

Then he sent a messenger to the kasegara. Ten minutes later a sharp volley was heard in the direction of the camp, accompanied by savage yells. Immediately afterwards shouts and the crackle of rifles were heard, less distinctly, from the north.

"My men," said Tom, "now is our turn. Go quietly through the copse, make a rush to the foot of the slope; scramble up, on hands and knees if you must, and make for the palisade. No firing, mind; nothing but bayonets and pikes at first. Don't fire till I give the word. Now, advance!"

Two hundred men being left in reserve, Tom's little force consisted of five hundred musketeers and pikemen, and the fifty carriers with the scaling-ladders. These latter held the ladders in front of them as a partial protection from rifle fire. The whole force moved quickly through the woodland, gained the bottom of the glacis with a rush, and began the ascent. The front ranks were half-way up before their presence was discovered. Then a brisk fusillade broke out from the fort, and several men fell. The rest threw themselves on their hands and knees, and finished the ascent at a scramble. The point made for was a few yards to the left of the gateway. While the bullets were flying erratically over the palisade, the carriers placed their ladders against it, and as, owing to the slope, they stood somewhat insecurely, Tom ordered four men to hold each while the rest mounted. In hardly more than a minute a hundred men were within the palisade, to find themselves exposed to cross-fires from the gate and from a line of fencing thrown across from the inner stockade to the outer, thus dividing the space between them into compartments. But faster than the gaps were made they were filled by fresh men swarming over the fencing. Tom was over among the first. He ordered some of the ladders to be hauled across and planted against the inner palisade, now more strongly defended by reinforcements which the first alarm had drawn from north and east. The Arabs were firing not only over the palisade, but through loopholes in it. Luckily the invaders had already spread, so that there were no close ranks to be decimated by the fusillade, and in the darkness and the flurry the defenders' fire was necessarily ill-aimed.

"Light fire-balls!" cried Tom in a clear voice. In half a minute twenty flaming balls whizzed through the air and over the inner stockade, lighting up the interior of the fort with its huts and tents, and showing the loopholes in the fencing. These became the target for Tom's best marksmen as he now at last gave the order to fire. Bullets flew fast; war-cries seemed to split the air; the defenders were already verging on panic. Some were making desperate attempts to extinguish the fire-balls, only to become the marks for more of those flaming missiles. A hut was already alight, and Tom's men were now swarming almost unchecked over the palisade. A few fire-balls had speedily cleared out the enemy from the cross fence, and this position was immediately occupied by the Bahima. The katikiro, at Tom's orders, had led a party of men with scaling-ladders to the left along the enclosure between the palisades to a point opposite the eastern gate, and cries from that quarter told that a position had been occupied there. Thus in less than half an hour three positions were held by the attackers. Several huts in the interior of the fort were in flames, and the defenders were rushing hither and thither, exposed to destructive rifle-fire from their own palisades.

Tom had already sent instructions to the kasegara and Mwonda to cease their demonstrations as soon as they saw a strong light in the fort, and to move towards each other and join forces. When the junction was made, and as soon as carriers with scaling-ladders arrived, they were to make a vigorous attack in real earnest at a point midway between their former positions, that is, from the north-east. Profiting by the respite from attack on the north and east, Mustapha and De Castro, who had given their orders hitherto from the very centre of the fort, now began to get their men into some sort of order, rallying them around Rumaliza's house. Hardly had this been done when a great din to the north-east announced that an assault was commencing there.

"Over into the fort, men!" cried Tom as soon as he heard the welcome sound. Up they clambered, up the ladders already planted against the inner palisade, up and over, hundreds of eager men pouring into the enclosure, no obstacle now between them and their enemy. Brought to bay, the Arabs fought desperately, dodging behind huts, seizing every point of vantage, knowing well that their former victims would spare none of them. Many of their dwellings were now ablaze, and in the brilliant illumination scores of the Manyema could be seen using the Bahima's scaling-ladders to escape over the palisades into the darkness. The Arabs themselves held their ground more stubbornly, but their enemies were now closing all round them. The attackers under Mwonda had met with but feeble resistance, for the majority of the defenders at the north-east had been withdrawn to withstand the earlier attack from the south. Mwonda himself, whose bellow could be heard above all other noises, plunged along at the head of his men, swinging his heavy musket, disdaining the few bullets that fell around him, and searching everywhere for the wretch who had shot him when he was unarmed.

As the space between the stockades filled with the exultant Bahima, hundreds of the enemy flung down their arms and begged for mercy.

"Spare all who surrender!" shouted Tom, and the order was repeated through the ranks of his men. Some of the enemy, however, scorning to yield, fought with the courage of despair to the bitter end, and were shot down or speared after they had themselves done great execution on the now crowded ranks of their assailants. Tom had several times caught sight of Mustapha moving about among his men, but not once had De Castro been visible. The centre of the fortress was occupied by a range of buildings of more solid construction than the huts nearer the stockade. It was Rumaliza's own house, a substantial stone structure of two stories, with a veranda running around the upper story, obviously an effort after comfort amid savage surroundings, and modelled on the residences of merchants on the coast. Tom, joined by Mwonda, and accompanied by Mbutu and the katikiro, led a small force of Bahima towards this building, in which he conjectured that some of the enemy, perhaps De Castro himself, had taken refuge. The walls were loopholed, and from these, as well as from the veranda, a hot fire met the little group. Two of the men fell. The door was of stout oak.

"We must burst it in," said Tom. "Find a stout beam, Mbutu. Quick!"

Mbutu darted away, and soon returned with three men hauling a massive beam, obtained by cutting down the post supporting the roof of a neighbouring hut. Just as they reached the door one of the three men was shot through the heart, and a bullet from above struck Tom in the thigh.

"I'm hit, Mbutu," he said. "Bind this strip of linen tightly round my leg; there's the place."

"Come away, sah, come away!" cried Mbutu pleadingly.

"Not yet. This door must come down first. Msala, batter the door in. Come, lift the battering-ram, men! Now then, one, two, three--that's it! The door's started. Now again, one, two, three! Ah! it's down. In you go, men! I'm coming!"

As the door fell in with a crash, the party of twenty men poured in, Tom limping painfully after them. There was no resistance; the room was empty.

"Up the stairs!" cried Tom. "Don't waste a minute!"

Mwonda was already springing up the ladder in the corner of the room, taking three steps at a time. In twenty seconds he came tumbling back into the room, yelling that the upper floor also was empty. At that moment there was a shout from the rear of the house. Bushing out, the Bahima found themselves in a sort of yard. The gate was open, and beyond were evidently outhouses and store-rooms. At one side of the yard was a man chained to a post, and yelling with all his might. By the feeble light from the now diminishing conflagration outside, Tom as he hastened up recognized Herr Schwab. The recognition was mutual.

"Out, out!" cried the German. "Zey are outside."

"Cut him loose," cried Tom to one of his men as he passed by, heedless of further cries from the German.

Mwonda and Msala were already in the narrow lane beyond the yard. There was no sign of the enemy.

"After them!" cried Tom. "Don't wait for me; I'll follow as quickly as I can."

The little band swept on, out of the lane, past the outhouses, into the open ground again. There they learnt that some twelve men had suddenly dashed out into the open, headed by Mustapha and the "small devil", as the Bahima called De Castro. The Arabs had rushed across towards the western part of the palisade, burst open a gate which had hitherto escaped the notice of the attackers, and clambered over the outer stockade. Six of their number were shot as they mounted, but the rest succeeded in getting clear away and disappeared.

Hearing this, Mwonda dashed in hot pursuit with his party. But though, utterly regardless of their own safety, they ran madly down the glacis, into the copse, through the plantation, down to the shore, they saw no trace of the enemy, who, knowing the ground perfectly, had made good their escape. Mbutu had hurried after the pursuers at Tom's command, and ordered them to waste no time in searching. Tom was himself unable to walk farther than the stockade, where he met them as they returned, and, learning that they had failed to find the fugitives, he instantly instructed Mbutu to hurry down to the landing-place and order ten canoes to be manned and to patrol round the island.

"Let them go in opposite directions, and watch every yard of the shore," he said. "I will come myself immediately."

The sky was now lightening with the dawn. Tom ordered four of his men to carry him down to the landing-place on one of the scaling-ladders. His wound was giving him intense pain, but feeling that if Mustapha, and above all De Castro, escaped, his victory would be shorn of half of its glory, and his work be left incomplete, he resolved that at whatever cost he would personally direct the search for the fugitives. While he was being carried to the shore he ordered the katikiro to despatch parties into every corner of the island to search the woods thoroughly.

Just as he arrived at the landing-place, Mbutu came hastily to his side, and declared that he had that instant seen a small canoe stealing westward. It was now half a mile from the shore.

"Put me into one of the Arab canoes," said Tom; "the lightest you can find to hold twenty paddlers. Order two other canoes to follow."

A few minutes later his canoe was being rapidly propelled in the direction of the chase, which Tom could now see was manned by a crew of six, and had one man in the stern who was not paddling and who had a bandage on one arm.

"Paddle your hardest, men," cried Tom; "that is our arch enemy."

The negroes responded vigorously, and it was soon evident that the chase was being gradually overhauled. The crew of six were straining every nerve to escape, and every now and then the man in the stern turned his head to look at the pursuing craft, and then cried aloud to his men to increase their efforts. Tom fixed his eyes unswervingly on the stern of the fleeing canoe.

"It is De Castro unmistakeably," he said to himself, as the man turned once more. The expression of mingled despair, rage, and fright on his face was fearful to behold. Suddenly he turned completely round, leant over the stern of the canoe, and took aim with his rifle at the canoe now so rapidly overtaking him. The bullet whizzed past Tom's ear. Tom looked round for a weapon with which to return the fire, but saw that not one of his crew was armed with a musket, so great had been the haste of the embarkation. But from the first of the other pursuing canoes, now close up to Tom's, a shot rang out. It struck the side of De Castro's canoe. The Portuguese took aim again, and this time the bullet struck one of Tom's men, who screamed and dropped his paddle. A rain of bullets from the other canoes fell around the fugitive, but he seemed to bear a charmed life.

"He is a devil," said one of Tom's men; "shots cannot hurt him."

Suddenly Tom observed a commotion among the six Arabs. A man that looked like Mustapha rose in the boat, raised his paddle above his head, and, just as De Castro was about to fire a third time, brought it down with tremendous force upon his unsuspecting head. He was leaning forward over the stern; his head fell on the edge, and in an instant the Arab had caught his legs and thrown him over into the water. He sank like a stone, and a dark circle formed in the frothing wash of the canoe. Within two minutes Tom's canoe arrived at the scene of the tragedy, but there was no sign of the victim. Tom stopped the canoe, to cruise round on the chance of De Castro reappearing. The other canoes stopped also, and loud cries of satisfaction rose from their crews. But when after a minute or two it became evident that the Portuguese would be seen no more, Mwonda uttered a yell of rage at his being thus snatched from personal vengeance. Tom meanwhile had ordered two canoes to continue the chase after the Arabs; but their craft, lightened by the loss of De Castro, was bounding over the water, the paddlers profiting by the temporary cessation of the pursuit. The Bahima paddled hard, and called to the crew of one of the patrol-canoes approaching from the north to join in the chase. But their efforts were vain. The fugitives gained the western shore, ran the canoe between two banks of reeds, and plunged into cover before the pursuers could overtake them. Mwonda dropped his head on his sound arm, and burst into tears. Then, lifting his huge body, and standing to his full height in the canoe, he passionately called upon all the evil spirits of his tribe by name, and adjured them to shrivel up the escaped Arabs with their blighting influence, and to inflict upon them tortures unspeakable until they were dead. Then the canoes were put about. Mwonda uttered one more bitter malediction as he passed over the spot where De Castro had sunk, and was still bemoaning his ill-luck when he overtook his victorious but weary and fainting master.