Lepoko was already telling his story for the second time. Elbel's officer, about to speak to the sick white man, who had just stepped out of the litter, suddenly hesitated, wheeled round, and with a loud cry of alarm rushed toward the centre of the camp, where, in a large tent, Elbel was at that moment regaling Captain Van Vorst with a dinner that did much credit to his native cook. His cry passed unnoticed by the delighted negroes whom Lepoko was so humorously entertaining. But next moment they choked their guffaws, and, without waiting for the end of the story, scampered with more speed than grace after their white officer towards Elobela's tent. What had startled them? The sick man from the litter, after one hasty glance round, had suddenly fired into the air the rifle he bore. And the carriers who seemed so tired and so glad to lay down their burdens had all at once sprung into feverish activity. Dividing into two parties they had disappeared behind the huts nearest to the stockade on each side of the gateway, and if the hubbub had not been so great, an attentive listener might have heard sundry scratches that ensued upon their disappearance. But there was no one to hear. The garrison of the camp were rushing still towards the centre with loud cries; the carriers and the sick officer were no longer to be seen; and what was this? Clouds of smoke, thick, acrid, suffocating, were floating on the south wind from the huts towards Elobela's tent.
And now the camp was in an uproar. Mingled with the yells of alarm were distinct cries, "Mutela!" "Elobela!" "Lokolobolo!" And amid all the din came ever and anon the sharp piercing bark of a dog.
Monsieur Guillaume Elbel, of the Société Cosmopolite du Commerce du Congo, had just opened a second bottle of Madeira for the delectation of his guest Captain Van Vorst, of the Congo State Forces. The dinner had been a good one; the Captain had praised his cook, the best cook on the Congo; and Monsieur Elbel was in better humour than he had been since the arrival of the State troops. He was even pleasantly boasting of the coming triumph at Ilombekabasi, and discussing what they should do with the Englishman after they had caught him, when sounds from outside so startled him that he poured the wine on to the tablecloth instead of into the glass, and interrupted himself with the sudden exclamation—
"What's that?"
He snatched up a rifle and hurried out, followed more slowly by his companion, who had seen too many camp quarrels to be greatly alarmed by this sudden outbreak. Elbel at first could distinguish nothing in the confusion. The short dusk of a tropical evening was already becoming darkness, but he could see that crowds of men were pouring out of the huts, rushing, hustling, in a state that was very like panic. And a pungent smoke saluted his nostrils; it was drifting in great whorls northwards over the camp, and surely behind it he saw here and there little red flashes of flame.
Who had fired that shot which had so shaken Monsieur Elbel's hand? He did not know; it had been a single shot; surely the camp could not be attacked, for other shots would have followed long before this. But the moment he appeared outside the tent a volley rang out, and Elbel saw that it was fired by his own men into the midst of the smoke. He was hurrying across the camp to inquire into the meaning of all this when a volley flashed from the other direction—from the very heart of the smoke. Shrieks proclaimed that some of the shots had told. "Fools!" cried Elbel, "don't you see they're screened by the smoke, whoever they are? What's the good of firing when you can't take aim? Curse that dog! I can't hear myself speak!"
Another volley flashed from the smoke. Men were dropping on every side; there were wild rushes for cover. Soon the central space was deserted, and the panic-stricken garrison fled for shelter behind the huts on the north side of the camp. While Elbel and Van Vorst were shouting themselves hoarse in a vain attempt to stem this tide of flight, the sergeant who had opened the gate had rushed to the north side, where Van Vorst's contingent were quartered, and hastily got them into some sort of order, together with those of Elbel's men who, having their huts on that side, has been less affected by the sudden alarm. Dividing the company of about a hundred men into two parties, he sent them skirmishing forward in the spaces between the huts towards the enemy he supposed to be approaching on the east and west.
That enemy, however, was not approaching. Jack had fired the huts and thrown the camp into confusion; his little party was not strong enough to turn the confusion to utter rout. Its smallness would be perceived if he led it into the open; his was a waiting game. The wisdom of his policy was soon proved. A sharp volley came from the men whom the Belgian sergeant had got together. Jack heard the man beside him groan heavily and fall to the ground; then he himself felt a stinging burning pain below the left knee. He called to his men to keep within cover, and hastily bound a handkerchief about the wound. And now the wind dropped, and the smoke which had hitherto screened his movements floated upwards. A scattering volley from the enemy reduced his band by two more men. The State troops were working round on each side of him; and the red glare from the burning huts was lighting up the whole camp. It would soon be seen how small his little company was; then one determined rush would annihilate it.
Less than four minutes had passed since he entered the gate; it seemed an age. Would Barney never come? Why was he delaying? Surely he had heard the signal shot; surely by this time he must have seen the ruddy glare! The enemy were regaining confidence; their cries of alarm were changed to yells of defiance. Elbel and Van Vorst had taken command, one on each side; each was steadily moving down from the northern stockade towards the gate. Barney, Barney, will you never come?
Hark! What is that? The cries of the enemy are suddenly drowned in a babel of yells behind them. They halt, amazed; Van Vorst shouts an order; the men wheel round and dash northwards, leaving only a few to watch the rear. The Belgian sees now the meaning of this daring scheme. What has he to gain by routing the little band behind? Before him is pandemonium; a whole host must be upon him; here is the danger to be met.