Settlers and Scouts: A Tale of the African Highlands

by Herbert Strang

As the rafts approached, they were assailed with showers of arrows from both sides, mingled with rifle shots from the right bank. Ferrier and John ordered their men to lie flat on their faces, for those on the starboard side were exposed to the fire from the right bank, those on the port side to that from the left. The two white men themselves, and their two steersmen, could not find shelter in the same way, being bound to stand erect in order to keep the rafts in midstream. As the missiles flew around him, John felt that this was a vastly unpleasant way of running the gauntlet. He instinctively pressed his body close to the framework; and whether it was due to the growing darkness, or to the inability of the enemy to hit a moving target, he escaped unhurt. The immediate danger was past when the banks of the river fell away to the level of the stream. Both parties of the enemy still fired, running along in time with the rafts; but their missiles now flew over the top of the breastwork. Ferrier thought it worth risking a volley from his own men. He ordered them to kneel, rest their rifles on the palisade, and take good aim at the Swahilis. Their skill or luck was superior, for when the volley flashed forth, a yell told that one at least of the bullets had got home. Immediately afterwards John ordered his askaris to fire among the negroes on the left bank; but these were somewhat remoter from the river, and he could not learn that any of the shots took effect.

"John ordered his askaris to fire among the negroes on the left bank."

Night had now sunk upon the land. The moon would rise late, and for several hours the voyage must be continued in darkness. John called to Ferrier to ask whether he had not better run into the bank and wait until there was a little light upon the course.

"I can see well enough at present," was the reply. "Besides, those beggars are keeping it up."

His expectation that the pursuit would be abandoned as soon as it became dark was not borne out. It was obvious from the shouts that were heard on either side from time to time that the enemy had screwed their resolution to an uncommon pitch. Their dread of the darkness was no less, but their savage resentment and vindictive desire for revenge was more. John was able to account for their pertinacity when he remembered what lay before him. The rapids! If he, on his light raft, had barely escaped with his life, how much less was the chance that two heavy-laden rafts would survive the battering they must receive! If they were not wrecked and broken up before they reached the pool, they would then become exposed to a terrific attack. He dared not think of what the fate of the safari would be if they were cast into the river and thrown upon the mercy of the enemy. Did they come safe through the first series of rapids and cross the pool, there was the second series beyond, sweeping through the gorge, from the heights of which the enemy could pour down upon them not merely a hail of bullets and arrows, but an avalanche of rocks which could not fail to send the rafts to the bottom. Great as were the perils which had beset him since he quitted the farm, he recognized with a momentary sinking of heart that they were trifles compared with those that were to come. He felt that his confidence would be greater if he could be beside Ferrier on the first raft. Their comradeship during the past few months had brought them very close together. He wished that they could talk things over quietly; whereas now they were separated by forty feet of rope, and anything either had to say must be uttered in a bawl.

As the darkness thickened the navigation became increasingly difficult. Sometimes, when long stretches of the river were banked by woods, it was pitch dark, and whatever obstacles might have occurred in the course, it would have been impossible to avoid them. Ferrier did his best to keep his raft in midstream, for he knew that crocodiles lurked on the banks; hippos might be sleeping in the shallows; and heavy as the raft was, he had little doubt that a heave of a hippo's huge body, a swish from a crocodile's terrible tail, would cause it to capsize, or at least break a gap in the breastwork.

At one such gloomy patch the raft ran ashore upon a mud-bank projecting into the stream. Before Ferrier could pole it off, the second raft, borne on by the current, collided with it; there was a shock, John's raft spun round, and rocked so violently that the men yelled with fright. The attaching rope, however, pulled it up with a jerk, which had the effect of hauling the first raft off the bank. Their positions were now reversed; Said Mohammed was foremost down-stream, Ferrier last. It was obviously impossible that the voyage could be continued thus. John and Ferrier ran each to the forward end of his own raft.

"Run her ashore again," shouted Ferrier, "and let me swing clear."

John obeyed. He would not have shirked the task of leading, but Ferrier's experience might make all the difference between success and failure, and it was certainly not a time to run any avoidable risks. Some minutes passed before he managed to strike the bank, and then the raft crashed against the projecting stem of a tree with a violence that threw John on to his back. Up in an instant, he clutched a branch just in time to prevent the raft from drifting away, and held on until Ferrier had passed in mid-stream, and the vessels had regained their former order. During this interlude nothing was heard of the enemy. The banks of the river were fortunately too steep and too densely wooded to allow their access.