The Fire-Gods: A Tale of the Congo

by Charles Gilson

That firing was the beginning of the siege of the stockade of Makanda, which lasted for seven days. Edward Harden had approached too near, and had drawn fire from the Arabs who manned the walls. The firing was answered by the Fans, who were somewhat over-eager to try their new-found strength. Shots were exchanged until nightfall, when the three Englishmen gathered together to discuss their plan of campaign.

They had every reason to believe that Cæsar himself had been put out of action--at least for a day or so. As far as they knew, the garrison consisted of six or seven Arabs. The two sides were therefore equal in strength, but the advantage lay with the defenders, who were strongly entrenched, whereas the attackers had no cover nearer than the hills.

They knew that the stockade was well provisioned, and it would take months for the garrison to be starved into submission. Their only chance was to take the stockade by assault, and this would be by no means easy to do.

They could not hope to succeed by day: a surprise would be out of the question. They would have to advance across the sandy plain that enclosed the shores of the lake, and they would be shot down, one after the other, from the loop-holes in the stockade. Their only chance was to assault the place by night.

That evening they could do nothing. Crouch and the four Fans remained to keep a watchful eye on the garrison, while Max and his uncle betook themselves to the kraal, to render what aid they could to the cholera patients.

A few hours before daybreak de Costa set out for the mountain, with strict injunctions to return as quickly as possible. It had taken a whole night for the slaves to realize that they had gained their freedom, and then, out of the gratitude in their hearts, they readily volunteered to act as carriers to the white men whenever their services should be required.

For three days no assault was delivered. The Englishmen and the Fans confined their energies by day to desultory shooting from the crest-line of the hills. By night they closed in upon the stockade, to see that Cæsar made no attempt to escape. Throughout these days most of Max's time was taken up in fighting a far more formidable foe than a handful of Arabs and a wounded Portuguese. With the aid of the few disinfectants and medicines which Edward had brought from the Pambala village, he did his best to stamp the cholera out. Those who had died were buried, and their clothing burnt. The remaining slaves, who had not followed de Costa, were removed from the kraal and taken to a place in the hills, where they were told to wait the issue of the siege. A few deserted to their homes, for they were ignorant people, and had learnt by bitter experience not to trust the white man. However, the majority stayed at Makanda, conscious of the debt they owed to the two Hardens and to Crouch.

It was on the third night that Max decided to burn the kraal to the ground. Great flames rose high into the air and illumined the crater through which the Hidden River flowed swiftly on its course.

As the kraal burned the slaves upon the hill-top danced and sang. They beheld in the spreading fire the burning of their bondage. To them the red glow that filled the valley and made the barren slopes of the granite hills stand forth in the night like peaks in fairyland, was the dawn of happier days. And Max, too, was light of heart. He believed that that fire would stamp out the pestilence once and for all.

Early in the afternoon on the following day de Costa arrived from the mountain. He had remained faithful to his promise. Only three slaves had deserted on the march, and the others were told to join the refugee camp which had sprung up upon the hill. De Costa was to remain in charge of the liberated slaves. The majority were Pambalas from the district, but several had been brought from so far away that they knew not how to find their way back to their homes.