“Stop here,” said Caspar, “I think I see him coming along, it is as well he should not discover us.”
We concealed ourselves behind some bushes. We could hear approaching footsteps, and thought that Jansen, having gone on some way, had turned back and intended to rejoin us at the camp. Just then I saw that the figure of the person approaching was not that of Herman Jansen, but of Captain Roderick. I concluded that he had followed us intending to treat with Prince Kendo for the ivory we had procured, or else that he had come to warn us of some danger to which we might be exposed, should we return to the village. I was on the point of stepping out of our place of concealment to go and meet him, when another person sprang up from behind a bank where he had been concealed, with a large knife in his hand, and before I could cry out to warn the captain, the other had plunged the weapon into his breast. With one piercing cry Captain Roderick fell back, while his assailant having driven the weapon home, left it sticking in the wound, and with a howl like a wild beast plunged into the forest, which immediately hid him from our sight. We all hurried forward, eager to give assistance to the wounded man; Caspar drew out the knife.
“Yes,” he said, “this was Jansen’s, he had vowed vengeance against the captain, and we had good reason to hate him, but this is a foul cowardly deed notwithstanding.”
Harry and I meantime lifted up the wounded man; his arms dropped downwards, not a groan, not a breath escaped him, his eyes were fixed and staring in death. The weapon had struck too deeply home for human power to save him. His spirit had fled. We notwithstanding sent Caspar back to obtain assistance, that we might carry the body to the camp.
In a short time Caspar returned with Charley and Tom and several blacks. A litter was formed, and we conveyed him to the camp. Though we had every reason to dislike the man who had been the cause of all the hardships and sufferings we were enduring, yet we felt no animosity towards him, and were horror-struck at his appalling death. Prince Kendo expressed his astonishment at the captain’s death. What he said was to the effect that he thought that no human power could injure him, “but I now see that white men can die like black men,” he observed with a peculiar expression which made us feel that it would be dangerous to offend the black Prince.
“But it was a white man that killed him, remember that,” said Tom, “the black fellows, from what I hear, tried it very often but could not succeed.”
“Yes, that was the case, but he had a friendly spirit always by to protect him, but that got killed at last, and so you see his power departed from him.”
The prince alluded to Growler, whose death we thus discovered was well known, although Captain Roderick had endeavoured to conceal the fact.
“The sooner we bury the poor fellow the better,” observed Charley. “While he is in their sight the blacks will be thinking about him, and being reminded how easily a white man is killed, they may take it into their heads to try and put us out of the way, and possess themselves of our guns and the contents of our knapsacks.”
We accordingly asked Kendo to allow some of his people to assist us in digging a grave. Though they at first showed some indications of fear, yet on Tom suggesting that the spirit of the dead man would haunt them if they did not, they eagerly set about the work, and saved us any trouble whatever. At first they made only a shallow hole, but Tom told them that that would never do, that it was necessary to bury a white man very far down in the earth, as they had such potent spirits that they would otherwise quickly force their way up again. On this they eagerly recommenced their labours, and managed to dig a grave six feet deep. We were going to put the body into it, when Tom advised that we should examine his pockets, and take possession of any documents or valuables he might have about him. We found nothing, however, except some ammunition, a knife, and a tinder-box. Not a line or document of any sort to prove his identity. Had we not witnessed his death, or discovered his body, no one would have known how he met with his untimely end. Like many another evil-doer, he would have disappeared from the face of the earth and left no trace behind him.