“Lord Aylward, if you please, Major Vernon.”
“I beg your pardon—Lord Aylward. I was aware of the contemplated purchase of that title, I did not know that it had been completed. I was about to add that all the same we mean to go to that camp, and that if any violence towards us is attempted as we approach it, you will remember that you are in our hands.”
“Yes, my Lord,” added Jeekie, bowing, “and that monkeys don’t tell no tales, my Lord, and that here there ain’t no twelve Good-Trues to sit on noble corpse unhappily deceased, my Lord, and to bring in Crowner’s verdict of done to death lawful or unlawful, according as evidence may show when got, my Lord. So march on, for we no breakfast yet. No, not that way, round here to left, where I think I hear kettle sing.”
So having no choice, Aylward came, marching between the other two and saying nothing. When they had gone a couple of hundred yards Alan also heard something, and to him it sounded like a man crying out in pain. Then suddenly they passed round some great trees and reached a glade in the forest where there was a spring of water which Alan remembered. In this glade the camp had been built, surrounded by a “boma” or palisade of rough wood, within which stood two tents and some native shelters made of tall grass and boughs. Outside of this camp a curious and unpleasant scene was in progress.
To a small tree that grew there was tied a man, whom from the fashion of his hair Alan knew to belong to the Coast negroes, while two great fellows, evidently of another tribe, flogged him unmercifully with hide whips.
“Ah!” exclaimed Jeekie, “that the kettle I hear sing. Think you better taken him off the fire, my Lord, or he boil over. Also his brothers no seem like that music,” and he pointed to a number of other men who were standing round watching the scene with sullen dissatisfaction.
“A matter of camp discipline,” muttered Aylward. “This man has disobeyed orders.”
By now Jeekie was shouting something to the natives in an unknown tongue, which they seemed to understand well enough. At any rate the flogging ceased, the two fellows who were inflicting it slunk away, and the other men ran towards them, shouting back as they came.
“All right, Major. You please stop here one minute with my Lord, late Bart. of Bloody Hand. Some of these chaps friends of mine, I meet them Old Calabar while we get ready to march last rains. Now I have little talk with them and find out thing or two.”
Aylward began to bluster about interference with his servants and so forth. Jeekie turned on him with a very ugly grin, and showing his white teeth, as was his fashion when he grew fierce.