"This is my uncle's, sure enough, Barney. It's genuine. What on earth can we do? Poor old Uncle! In his last note he said he was recovering; he must have had a relapse. How can we get him into the fort? We must bring him in somehow. It's awful to think of him lying ill in the forest without any one to look after him; and I am cooped up here!"
"Send Samba to fetch him, sorr."
"I can't, Barney," said Jack after a moment's thought. "Samba goes alone safely, but I simply can't trust him to lead a party in, especially as Uncle seems to be too bad to move. I can't see any way out of it. If I took some men out myself, and made a dash for it, the enemy would be on our track, and we should have to fight our way in against the whole lot of them. Impossible; they outnumber us so greatly."
Barney was sympathetic, but unable to offer a suggestion. Bidding him keep an eye on Lofembi, Jack went back to his hut to think the matter out by himself. He was torn with anxiety. An unlucky chance might at any moment reveal his uncle's whereabouts, and he knew what mercy Mr. Martindale might expect if he fell into the hands of Elbel. Something must be done; yet what? A dozen plans occurred to him, only to be rejected.
One thing was clear; whatever was done must be done either by Barney or himself. Mr. Martindale being incapacitated, another white man must lead his party, for the natives, unless properly led, might be seized with panic at the slightest check and bolt.
Barney he could not send. There was no finesse about him; he was a good fighter, with any amount of pluck, but the very antithesis of a scout. Jack felt that he must go himself if his uncle was to have the best chance of getting in. There was no other course that offered the same prospect of success.
What were his chances? His sortie against the enemy's camp had been a brilliant success. Since then Elbel had been practically on the defensive; he was afraid of wasting ammunition; afraid also of leaving any small body unsupported by his main force. During the past week Jack's scouts had reported night after night that no pickets had been posted as formerly around the fort, so that, except on the south-east, where Elbel's camp was, the neighbourhood was open. He could thus easily steal out at the gate in the northern wall under cover of darkness, and by making a wide detour ought to be able to bring Mr. Martindale and his party back in safety.
Yet he had qualms. Ought he in any case to leave the fort? Supposing he failed, what would happen to the hundreds of people who depended on him? Driven by force of circumstances into a life-and-death struggle with Elbel's Company, he had not ventured to look forward to its ultimate issue. The duty of the moment seemed to be to hold on, to keep the poor negroes out of the clutches of their oppressors, and leave the end with God. Could he trust Barney to continue his work if he should be removed? Ought he to think of it? Thus he pondered and puzzled, the arguments for and against chasing one another in a circle through his mind.
He had reached no conclusion when Barney came to the hut. The good fellow seemed a little uncomfortable; he stood hesitating at the entrance, his readiness of speech having apparently deserted him.
"Barney, I'm the most miserable fellow alive," said Jack, looking up.