"Msala," said Tom sternly, "you have ill learnt the lessons I have tried to teach you. If the Arabs surrender they shall not escape altogether, but they must not be killed. I should hand the leaders over to the Congo Free State to be tried by its courts, like the court of justice in our village, of which you are such an ornament, Msala. The rest of the enemy I should allow to go free, but without firearms, and thus incapable of doing further mischief."
The katikiro still raised objections, but Tom combated them one by one, and at last brought all the officials to agree to his proposal. Accordingly he called up Mboda, Mbutu's brother, as one of the most intelligent of the men with him, and sent him forward under a white flag to the gate of the fort, with directions to ask for Mustapha himself, and to deliver to him in form the summons to surrender. The messenger returned in about half an hour. He had spoken with Mustapha, who was accompanied by a little dark man with evil face. Mustapha had at first refused to treat, but at De Castro's request had at length agreed that a meeting should take place between the opposing leaders half-way between the camp and the fort. He proposed to come himself with two of his chief men, all unarmed, and he invited Kuboko to do likewise. Mboda had only just delivered this message when Mbutu broke in impetuously:
"Not go, sah," he said. "De Castro bad man; him come; him remember sah knock him down; him no friend; him no speak good words. Mustapha too; him tied; him berrah mad, oh yes! Not go, sah."
"Don't be afraid, Mbutu. There is honour among thieves. They have themselves proposed to come without arms. We shall merely have a talk, and be done with it. Go back, Mboda, and say that I agree to the proposal, and will meet Mustapha and his friends in an hour's time midway between our positions. Both sides, it is understood, will come unarmed."
An hour later Tom set off to the meeting, accompanied by Mwonda, and by Mboda as interpreter. He thought it well not to provoke the two hostile chiefs unnecessarily by bringing Mbutu before them, and Mbutu, much against his will, remained in the camp, his heart filled with misgiving. To relieve him, Tom said, just before he started:
"You can keep a sharp look-out, Mbutu, and if you do see any open movement of treachery, which for my part I do not expect, you will order a company of men to fire, taking care not to hit me or my friends, you know."
As he approached the meeting-place he saw three men issue from the gate of the fort. He looked at them with interest. There was his old enemy Mustapha, his opponent in single-handed fight, his captor, and his victim. By his side, dwarfed by the Arab's giant frame, was De Castro, his red shirt and yellow breeches seeming all the more gaudy beside the white robes of the Arabs. The third figure--it was with a start that Tom recognized Mahmoud the hakim, who had befriended him to the utmost of his power during his short captivity months before. The two little groups met in the open field, and bowed ceremoniously, no outward sign of recognition passing between Tom and the other side. Curiously scanning the features of the Portuguese, Tom almost found it in his heart to pity him. His face was lined and haggard, its expression was fierce and darker than ever; the iron of disappointment and defeat had evidently entered deep into his soul. He eyed Tom with an insolent and malignant scowl, and kept clenching and unclenching his fists. Mustapha was much more composed, preserving the impassivity so characteristic of his race.
Tom wasted no time in preliminaries. He gave no explanation of his presence there at the head of a great force of armed Bahima; he courteously but plainly stated the terms he had come to propose--unconditional surrender, the leaders to be placed in the hands of the Free State Government, their followers to be disarmed and dismissed. If these terms were not accepted the fort would be stormed. Mustapha looked at him in silence for a moment; then his eyes flashed, and he cried:
"You come to me to propose terms? You, my enemy! Know that you are in my power. You will storm my fort? You shall never enter it alive. I have waited for this day; my revenge has been long in coming, but it has come at last. I fought you by the river; would to Allah I had slain you! I kept you a captive and fed you; would that I had slain you then! Now is the third time; you shall not escape me."
De Castro, who had ill concealed his impatience, here took a step forward, spat upon the ground, and began to speak in broken English.