The Fire-Gods: A Tale of the Congo

by Charles Gilson

It was Max who related the story of all that had happened since his uncle left Hippo Pool. The big man listened in silence; and when the story was ended he said nothing, and never once did he look at Crouch. He knew the captain far too well to thank him. With old friends who have been through thick and thin together, who have stood side by side throughout many a danger, words are at a discount--a kind of mutual understanding exists between them that makes conversation a sheer waste of time. Still, though Edward said nothing, Max knew well enough that he thanked the little, wizened captain in his heart, and was conscious of the debt he owed him.

They remained on the island for another week, and it took them all that time to persuade a dozen of the boys to accompany them upon the portage in the capacity of carriers. It was only on the understanding that they would not be asked to embark upon the dreaded river of the "Fire-gods" that, at last, they consented to go.

Indeed, this time, they had no intention of advancing as far as the river. They proposed to follow the portage to Observation Creek, and thence to strike up-stream, due south, until they found a suitable camping-ground. Here they would establish their base, sending the boys back to the island with orders to wait for their return.

The Loango boys could be trusted; most of them had faithfully served either Crouch or Edward in the past. Besides, they were a thousand miles from their home, and dared not make the passage of the Congo by themselves, because of the hostile tribes that, in those days, abounded to the east of Stanley Falls. When Crouch and Edward Harden were on the river their reputation went before them; their friends came forth to meet them--grinning cannibals with necklaces of monkeys' teeth suspended round their necks, and little else besides by way of clothing--and their enemies, those who had broken their faith with Harden or fallen foul of Crouch, deserted their villages and took to the jungle, to let the two great white men pass, whose fame had reached to the very heart of the continent, and who, it was said, were spoken of even by the pigmies who lived in the dark, unknown country west of the Lakes.

When they set out with their carriers for Observation Creek, the three Europeans were sanguine of success, and even the four Fans (the one who had been injured by the leopard had been left behind on the island) shared their expectations. The riddle of the valley was yet unsolved. The Portuguese still guarded well his secret. In his fortress by the river, encompassed upon every hand by the dark, inhospitable jungle, he had every reason to think himself secure. Moreover, he had cause to believe that both Max and Crouch were dead--the former drowned at the cataract, the latter lost in the jungle. Half the victory is gained when one can take one's adversary by surprise. Cæsar had lost Gyp, his most accomplished scout. He might patrol the river, but he would find no trace of the Englishmen from Makanda to the rapids. He might search their old camp at Hippo Pool, where he would find, perhaps, a box of ammunition, cooking utensils and a few days' provisions--to say nothing of Crouch's case of glass eyes--but he would gain no clue to the fact that his enemies had returned to the valley.

From their base camp on Observation Creek they had decided to move up-stream towards the mountain. They hoped to make friends with the natives of the Pambala village that M'Wané had seen in the distance. Thence they could approach Makanda from the east.

Each time they traversed the portage progress was more easy. It was no longer necessary to cut a way through the thickets with bill-hooks and axes, and to "blaze" the trees. Besides, they were now familiar with the road, knew where to look for water and the bitter roots of wild manioc, or cassava--from which tapioca is manufactured--and upon which, to a large degree, they were obliged to subsist in the jungle. Also they no longer carried a canoe.

In consequence, they reached the Creek in four and a half days. After halting for an hour, they continued their journey to the south, turning to the left from the route which led direct to Hippo Pool. They followed the course of the stream till sunset, and then camped for the night. Another day's march brought them to an open place by the side of the Creek, where the ground was too rocky for vegetation to flourish. They had been conscious throughout the day's journey of going up-hill, and this was doubtless the foot of one of the spurs of the mountain they wished to gain. It was here they decided to camp.

They pitched their tent, and gathered a supply of firewood in the forest. The water of the stream was clear and good to drink. They were much pestered by insects of all descriptions, but this is inevitable in the heart of an equatorial forest, and not even the smoke of Crouch's tobacco served to keep away the millions of flies, mosquitoes and ants, to say nothing of less disagreeable companions, such as the most gorgeous butterflies and gigantic dragon-flies and moths.

The following day the Loango boys departed upon their return journey to the Kasai. As had been the case before, they showed great eagerness to return. It seems that they could not rid their minds of the tales they had heard of the Fire-gods, and neither Crouch nor Edward could persuade them that the valley was not haunted by evil spirits.