Kitabı oku: «With Wolseley to Kumasi: A Tale of the First Ashanti War», sayfa 7

Chapter Seven.
Forewarned is Forearmed

“I don’t like the news, Johnnie,” said our hero, one day, some weeks later, when he had quite settled down to his duties at the mine. “You say you saw some men encamped five miles and more away. Tell me all about them.”

The native lad, an inhabitant of the coast near Sierra Leone, who had come from that part with Mr Pepson, and who had been left to keep Dick company and to tend to the launch, put the short black pipe which he was smoking into the other corner of his mouth, and turned his eyes up till the whites alone showed, a trick of which he was very fond. He was, in fact, a comical-looking fellow. Short and square for a native, with woolly hair, and a few stray wisps of beard at his chin, he was dressed in a much patched pair of breeches, with ragged edges, the tags hanging about his naked toes. These same breeches were suspended from his shoulders by an ancient pair of braces, a gift from Dick himself, while a soiled and disreputable jacket, smeared with many a patch of grease, was over his back, serving for shirt as well as coat. He held a rifle in his hand, and the state of his feet showed that he had just come in from the forest.

“Me go dere, as you say,” he said, taking the pipe from his mouth. “Me look for something to eat, for massa want fresh meat. And then me see smoke. ‘Dat strange,’ say Johnnie. On de coast where me lib noting wrong in dat. Fires eberywhere. Smoke all de time. But here – ”

Again his eyes turned up as if to show that this smoke was a matter for astonishment.

“Exactly so. Here one would feel surprised and alarmed. Go on.”

“Den Johnnie tink, and say, ‘dese surely bad men, not like Johnnie,’ so me start to run ’way. Den me creep back, and soon me see better. Dere ten, tirty, yes, fifty big native, all wid sword and gun, and dey sit round de fire cookin’ and eatin’. Me look for dat scoundrel, dat white man who attack us below. But no, he not dere. Den me come ’way and tell massa.”

It was serious news, and for a long while our hero was silent. For three weeks he had gone about his work at the mine till he was thoroughly acquainted with it. He had been down each one of the shafts, and had ingratiated himself with the men. It happened that in two of the shafts a rich deposit of nuggets had been come upon, not an uncommon find in the goldfields of Ashanti; and that, together with the increased comfort given by the winding gear, all of which was now in place, had so heartened the miners that he was more than popular amongst them. But he was still haunted with the fear of attack.

“There must be people who know that we are here, practically with no means of defence,” he had said over and over again to himself. “And no doubt the news of a rich find will in time be circulated. What is to prevent a ruffian like James Langdon making a raid upon us? I am here, in charge, and I must take steps.”

That same evening he went to the miners when they had come up from the shafts, and told them the news.

“Our brothers are at war. There is nothing in this camp to alarm us or you,” said their leader, when Dick had made himself understood, a somewhat difficult matter, considering his small knowledge of the language. “The Ashantis will not touch us. The Fantis would if they could, for we are weak, and should fall an easy prey to them. But these were Ashantis.”

“And to-morrow a force of Fantis might come, too,” added Dick. “Then what could we do?”

“We should be killed, the gold would be taken, and there would be an end of the matter.”

“Then as I have no wish to be killed, I suggest that we take steps to protect ourselves,” said Dick. “I have rifles at the stockade for all, and will arrange a signal. You say that you can all shoot. That makes matters better. We will practise to-night. There is a tomtom at the stockade, left there by one of yourselves perhaps. I will beat that as the signal, and all will at once rush to the place, bringing their store of gold with them.”

The miners looked at one another when they heard his words, and then commenced to discuss the matter together; for it was difficult for them to understand the need for such precautions. They had been at this mine for some months now, and they had never been disturbed. At the same time rumour had reached them that their countrymen were at war with the Fantis, and that being the case, the latter would treat them as enemies. There was a big store of gold, the result of the last month’s labour, and that would certainly go. They would be killed, too, and even if they were not, they would lose their wages, now owing for some months.

“We will do as you ask,” said their chief, half an hour later. “There may be need for these precautions, and in that case we may have cause to be glad. On the other hand, the time wasted will be only short, and will not matter. What else shall we do?”

“Make for the stockade, as I have said, and when there we will arrange the method of defence,” answered Dick. “Keep your ears open for the signal.”

He left them, and an hour later, having seen Johnnie again in the meanwhile and instructed him to sound the alarm, he retreated to the stockade with the men, waiting till the last to see how they carried out the movement.

“That will do very well,” he said, as they arrived, panting, in the stockade. “Now for other orders. The last man in throws the doors to and is helped by his friends. That is right. We are now safely behind stout walls, and can fetch our rifles. They are kept in this rack in the hut, and a bag of ammunition is hung to the muzzle of each. Let every one go in and help himself, and then run out to the walls.”

He watched as the miners, a group of intelligent men, carried out his orders. Then as they came hustling from the hut, pushing each other aside in their eagerness, he arrested them with a shout and with uplifted hand.

“Some one will be shot very soon,” he said. “Some of you have already loaded, and guns go off sooner than they are wanted to under these circumstances. We must do things in an orderly manner, and each must have an allotted place. Tell your men off to a loophole apiece, chief,” he shouted. “Now, that is better, and we will practise the move again.”

Several times they carried out the exercise, Dick making them emerge from the stockade, and then, at a beat on the tom-tom, rush in, close the gates, and go in search of their rifles. No man was allowed to load till he was at his loophole, and then the order was that there should be no firing unless the enemy were clearly seen.

“We have a fair store of cartridges,” said Dick, “but we may have to stand a siege. That being the case, we must not throw them away. Now let each man pick out a tree or some object, and aim at it. I’ll give the order to fire.”

By now the miners were beginning to take more than a passing interest in these manoeuvres of their young chief. They had been talking the thing over, and had come to the conclusion that it would be worth while to safeguard their own interests. They had been away from their friends for a long time, and it might be that there was a war of considerable proportions raging, for the Ashantis were at daggers drawn with the Fantis, and took every opportunity of attacking them.

At Dick’s call they poured a volley into space, and looked round for more orders.

“That will do very well for to-day. We will practise again every day, and I want to see that the men at the top of the shaft shout the alarm to their friends below and wait to haul them up. There must be no desertion of comrades.”

Dick was as good as his word, too. The following morning, when he had carefully inspected the surroundings, and had seen that the miners were busily at work, he caused Johnnie to sound the alarm again, and stood in the neighbourhood of the shafts till all the men were up. Then the proceedings of the previous evening were repeated.

“That part of our precautions is arranged,” he said to himself, as he smoked a meditative pipe. “Now I must look to another matter. Johnnie and I must take it in turns to go abroad into the forest.”

It was a wise precaution, and from that day, turn and turn about, he or the native stoker, as soon as breakfast was ended, and while the day was still cool, would take a rifle and stalk away towards the forest. Sometimes they would go towards the river, to see that no one had tampered with the launch, and at others they would make in the opposite direction. But whichever road they followed, they were careful not to penetrate too deeply into the jungle, and to take their bearings before entering the bush.

“We might get lost,” said Dick, “and besides, it is really laborious work cutting a path, however narrow. The main thing is to circle all around the mine, looking for traces of a possible enemy, and, of course, shooting any game we may come upon, for fresh meat is a luxury.”

One day, a week later, when our hero was out on his tramp, and had proceeded a couple of miles from the mine, he suddenly came to a halt, and stood there listening intently, for a sound had come to his ear.

“The tom-tom!” he exclaimed. “I feel sure, and from the direction of the stockade. Can the place be attacked?”

The thought threw him into a fever of apprehension, for supposing an enemy had appeared, and his men were within the stockade, what would happen to them without their leader? They were excellent fellows, but Dick had come to know that, without some one to direct them, they were useless.

“They would be all right for an hour or two if not pressed,” he said. “But if they were rushed by a strong force – well, it would go hard with them. I must return. But can it be that that tom-tom was not from the mine?”

That was another momentous question, and, as he pondered over it, the perspiration poured from his forehead. He turned and retraced his steps at a run, breaking through the jungle in his feverish haste, tearing the vines and brambles aside and lacerating his hands and face with the thorns.

Hark! This time it was another sound that brought him to a standstill. There was the clear, crisp report of a rifle, a distant shout, and then a medley of sounds, the frantic cries of natives, and the sharp snap of answering firearms.

The place, then, was attacked. There could be no doubt about the matter. And he, the leader, was outside the stockade. Dick clenched his hands and ground his teeth with disappointment. He had no fear for himself. He thought last of his own personal safety. A duty had been entrusted to him. He had been placed at the mine to defend it, and he was helpless to direct the men.

“They must hold their own, then,” he gasped. “I cannot get to them yet, and they cannot know where I am. Very well, I will go where I can see what is happening, and then I must be guided by circumstances.”

This time he did not rush through the jungle with such frantic haste. His impetuosity had given way to prudence, and, as he walked, he peered ahead, halting every now and again to make sure that he was not running upon the enemy. As he approached the clearing about the mine the snap of rifles became more audible. It was a spluttering fire now, an occasional shot, and then a succession of reports.

“That is what I like to hear,” he said to himself. “It shows that they are not so closely pressed, and I think that they must be holding their own. If my men were being rushed there would be shouts, and rifles would be fired more frequently. Ah, it is getting lighter, and soon I shall be able to see.”

He crept on all fours now, and presently came to the very edge of the jungle. But from where he was he could only see a fraction of the stockade, and not a soul was in sight. To obtain a full view he must creep round to the far side, where the attack was taking place.

“No doubt they have their camp there,” he thought, “so I must be doubly careful. I’ll slip into the trees again and go cautiously.”

Well was it for him, too, that he took this precaution, for he had progressed only a little way when his keen eye caught sight of some natives out in the open. They carried rifles, and were making for the mines. Ditch watched them as they went to the shafts, and saw two of their number lowered into each. Then there was a shout, and they were hauled up again.

“Looking for possible stragglers,” he thought. “It was a lucky idea to have a signal to recall the men. I suppose Johnnie must have sounded it. Ah, the ruffians are now looking for gold, but there again I fancy they will be disappointed. How I wish I had a dozen men here! I could pick the enemy off easily, and then a rush might drive the rest away.”

By now the natives were retracing their steps, disappointed at their lack of fortune, and at once Dick crawled on again. An hour later he was round at the far side, and had a full view of all that was taking place. A glance showed him that matters were as he had hoped. The timely alarm, the previous training, and the careful instruction which had been given to the miners had resulted in their reaching the stockade in a mass, and in closing the doors on the attackers. Nor were there wanting signs that they had made their presence felt by the enemy, for ten dark figures lay sprawling in the open, some looking as though the men slept, while in other cases the bodies were doubled up in that fantastic position which is seen where men have been killed in the act of charging.

“Showing that our friends held their fire till they were sure of their aim,” said Dick, with a chuckle, his spirits reviving immensely at the sight. “But the attack was a genuine one, for I can see one man close outside the stockade. Perhaps the alarm was only just given in time, and when the miners reached the stockade the enemy were in full chase and close behind them. Ah! They have been making long shots, too.”

His hand went to his trigger suddenly, and he fell on his face in the undergrowth, for he had caught sight of a native some few paces away. He seemed to be leaning against a tree, and was partly in the open. A second glance, however, told that he was dead, for his head lay on his breast, and only the tree which supported him prevented his falling from his knees.

“Looks as though he had knelt to take a shot, and had been killed in the act,” thought Dick. “He will be fired at again, perhaps. One of our men will see him, and not knowing that he has already ceased to be an enemy will fire. It would be safer for me to crawl on a little.”

Once more he sneaked through the forest, his senses all alert, for now, at any moment, he might come full upon the enemy. Suddenly he heard voices, and at the sound crouched on his face. Then there came the rustle of vines and leaves, the soft tread of naked feet, and the dull blow of something harder striking the trunk of a tree. The voices grew louder, and, to Dick’s consternation, they seemed to be coming directly towards him. He looked about him like a hunted animal, saw an immense cotton tree with wide-spreading roots, just such another as had sheltered the party during the storm which they had encountered in the forest, and promptly crept into the narrow archway beneath. He was barely in time. Hardly had he squatted in the shadow, and found an aperture for his rifle, when a group of natives came into view, slashing the vines and creepers with their knives. And in their midst, his wide-awake hat and sallow features making him conspicuous, appeared James Langdon, his face convulsed, while his hands and teeth were clenched with rage. He could hardly speak, but turned every now and again towards the stockade and shook his fists, while he growled out an oath.

Once more Dick’s rifle went to his shoulder, his cheek lay down on the stock, and he aligned the sights dead upon the half-caste’s forehead. One pressure of the finger, the gentlest pull, and the man would be slain. The temptation was great, the call for such action clear, and yet, and yet —

“Be a sportsman,” whispered Dick to himself. “Shoot a fellow in cold blood, Dick Stapleton, even though he be a rogue and a robber? Never!”

He lowered the rifle, while the half-caste, all unconscious of his danger, snatched his hat from his head, and called a halt. It was clear that he was baffled. One could see it on his ugly, resentful face. There was a scowl in his every look, while his eyes, when he turned them towards the stockade, flashed in a manner which boded little good to the defenders, should they come into his power.

“They have us beaten, comrades,” he suddenly exclaimed, while at the words the scowl became even more pronounced. “This white man is the cause of our failure. He must have suspected, else how comes it that when we arrived they bolted to their lair? There was a shout as we came from the trees, and then the men at the heads of the shafts began to wind for their lives. In two minutes they were all racing for the stockade, and when we got there they were safe, while their bullets were flying amongst us. It is that cursed Englishman!”

The bitterness of his misfortune seemed to overwhelm him, for he threw himself on the grass, muttering and beating his hands together. Then he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, for this half-caste had accustomed himself to the manners of Europeans, and lit it with a match.

“To add to our trouble, there is no gold to be had,” he almost shouted. “The dogs carried their day’s takings to the stockade, where the remainder is stacked, I suppose. There are weeks of profit there, comrades; and we have heard that they have done well. Shall we retire now till our friends come to help us, or shall we make a second attempt? In a day we can have a hundred men to aid us, and then there will be no doubt of success.”

“While the booty will be the smaller, for the reason that it must be divided,” added one of the natives.

“Which is better than losing more lives,” exclaimed James Langdon. “Besides, there will be plenty of booty for us all, for you know what is happening. We are on the way to Elmina. Your king is going to drive these white men out of the country, and that means plenty of loot for every man of us. But I will leave it to you. We will attack again now, for there are fifty of us, or we will make a ring round them, and hold them tight till our friends come. We have them safely, in any case.”

Dick listened with all his ears. At the mention of reinforcements his heart sank into his boots, while the news that war with Britain had broken out came as a shock to him. True, there had been grave rumours of trouble before he and the expedition had left the coast. But it was expected that the difficulty would be settled amicably. If there was war, he was cut off from his friends. In all probability the enemy were already between him and the coast, and, in any case, they would make for the river. It was a serious situation, and had he been in any other place, and not beset by foes, Dick would then and there have sat down and thought deeply, for, young and inexperienced though he was, his wits had been sharpened by the responsibility thrown upon him. He was naturally a shrewd young fellow; but till he came to Africa he had never been called upon to settle questions of great moment. He had hardly given a command in his life, save to the boys in his company in the cadet corps at school, and there, there had been no difficulty about the matter. Here, in the heart of the Ashanti forest, it was all so different. And yet Dick did not fall short of the estimate his employers had formed of him. Long before they had departed from the mine they had approved, time and again, their appointment of him as their agent.

“He is born for command,” Mr Pepson had said. “He is quiet, and inclined to be cool. He will not be hurried. I’ve watched him. Rather than give a hasty decision he will slip away for a time, and then one sees him smoking his pipe and evidently cogitating. That’s the sort of lad I can rely on. Ready, if there is need to act in haste, but given to reflection, weighing his words, and venturing no opinion unless he has considered beforehand. As to courage – well, that he has, we know.”

Meinheer Van Somering had invariably replied that Dick was indeed brave, and who could realise the fact if he – a Dutchman – did not do so?

But under the present circumstances who could give thought to any question? Dick was crouching beneath the archway of roots within easy reach of a band of cutthroats who had made an attack upon his stockade. And in their midst was the ruffian who had systematically robbed his father, and who had wound up his crimes by robbing Dick, and then making a murderous attack upon the expedition. Would James Langdon spare him if he happened to discover his whereabouts? Would he cause the forest to be searched if he suspected that hidden within it was the youth whom he had wronged, and against whom he was so embittered? If Dick had had any doubts, the next few words of the miscreant relieved his mind of them, and set the perspiration again pouring from his forehead.

“Yes,” said the half-caste, reflecting. “Our course is clear. We have failed to rush them, thanks to this white man and his precautions. I felt that he would be suspicious of a second attack, and would be ready for us. Then we will surround the stockade, for what hope have we of rushing the place? They are armed with sniders, my comrades, and can fire three shots to our one. Then they are under perfect cover, while we are exposed in the open. No, no, it would be foolish to attack again. It would be wasting lives. We will sit down and wait for our friends, and when they come, ah! then there will be a different tale. These miners shall hand over their gold, and this white man – what shall we do with him? Think of your brothers who are slain!”

“We shall be able to deal with him,” answered one of the natives. “We can send him back to Kumasi, and there he will be slain as a sacrifice. Yes, it will be good to appease our juju with the blood of a white man.”

Dick had heard of the frightful rites perpetrated at Kumasi. He knew that these Ashantis were a warlike race, who were forever battling with their neighbours, and the tale had come to the coast, a tale the truth of which had been proved time and again, of a hideous bowl, of an executioner’s heavy knife, and of the manner in which the captives were killed. He shuddered when he imagined that he was so near to such a fate. That within a little while he might be in the town of Kumasi, and while thousands looked on, hooting and shouting for joy, and James Langdon mocked at him, eagerly watching for a sign that his captive quailed, while the executioner made ready, might be dragged to that awful bowl, forced to his knees, and have his head struck off at a blow, while his life’s blood was caught in the receptacle. Yes, he had heard the details. It was said that many thousand wretched captives uttered their last sigh in this vile town of Kumasi every year, and that King Koffee and his warriors sought constantly to increase the number. No wonder that he shuddered, that he crouched still lower, while his hands became clammy with fear. The thought unmanned him. These natives, with their leader, looked like ogres waiting to take his life, and he, all alone there, was so helpless. But a sudden movement brought the manhood that was within him to the fore again. A native fidgeted. Then he strolled from the band, and noticing the tree, came and sat down with his back leaning against it. Dick could hear his breathing. His own heart, as it thudded against his ribs, sounded even louder, and to him, in the extremity of his danger, it seemed that discovery was an accomplished fact. He gripped the rifle till the cords in his wrists stood out clearly. Then he directed the muzzle at the man’s neck, while his finger went to the trigger.

“Then we will arrange our stations,” cried James Langdon, suddenly, rising to his feet. “We will surround them so thoroughly that there can be no escape. Come, all of you, to the edge of the clearing, so that we may discuss the situation.”

The native rose to his feet at once, to Dick’s huge relief, while the whole band crept to the edge of the forest, and looked across at the stockade. In their centre was the half-caste, eager and confident, in complete command of his men, and though they were now farther away our hero could distinctly hear and understand his directions. The circle was indeed to be complete. Men were told off to occupy the summit of the rocky crest, from which they could look down upon the stockade. It would be a full moon that night, so that these natives could watch the surrounding country almost as completely as in the daytime. Others were ordered to occupy certain scraps of cover, with directions to fire at any one who showed above the stockade. And lastly, a second ring would encompass the inner one, for James Langdon would leave nothing to chance.

“We have a crafty fellow to deal with, and a big stake to win,” he cried, as he glared across at the stockade. “There is gold there, my comrades, and there are men, too, to repay for the death of your brothers. True, they are of your own country, but they have defied you. They are not fighters. They live for wealth, and run when their country has need of them. Think, too, of the white man. He would be a prize indeed in Kumasi.”

How much longer he would have continued to talk it would be unwise to guess, though there was little doubt that these natives under his leadership required no further encouragement. They were warriors of Ashanti, cruel-minded and blood-thirsty, and it was nothing to them whom they fought if they imagined they had a grievance. But there were others paying attention to that gathering. As the half-caste turned to see what effect his words had had, a single shot rang out crisply from the stockade, and a native standing beside him sprang into the air and fell dead on his face. There was a stampede at once, the gathering broke up and melted into the forest, leaving Dick alone, breathing more freely now that the danger was lessened.

“There is some one alert at the stockade,” he said, with satisfaction. “Some one who can shoot, too. Then I need not worry myself for the present. They will do well till I join them. But how is that to be done? Regain the stockade I must, but how, that is the question?”

It was a sufficiently knotty one, and not to be settled in a moment. Dick reflected that he could still make for the launch and steam down the river, for it was hardly likely that she had been discovered, so well were the creek and the tiny tributary hidden. But then —

“Can’t,” he said, with decision. “There are the men and the stockade to be thought of. Besides, I have to think of the gold. I must get to the stockade and join my men. Then we can decide what course to take.”

He lay in his hiding-place for hours, till the twilight came, and then he crept to the clearing and looked out to see if he could discover the position of the natives who formed the inner circle about the stockade. He had heard a shot every now and again, and now as he stared from amidst the ferns and vines, he saw first one and then a dozen dusky prostrate figures, hiding behind boulders of large size, or masses of bush which happened to lie in the open, and which they had been able to reach by stealthily crawling across to them upon their bellies. At the back of the stockade, seeming in that half light to stand on the very top of it, were more figures, half concealed, keeping watch upon the place.

“Very good,” said Dick, as he lay in the bush. “I know where they are at least, and must try to avoid them. Go I must, and if any man comes in my way, why – ”

He rose to his knees and drew the short sword with which Mr Pepson had provided him. Satisfied that it would easily free itself from the scabbard, he inspected his revolver and popped that back into its case. Then his rifle went across his shoulder, and with a hitch he shortened the sling till there was no danger of the weapon swinging about. Half an hour later twilight had gone and darkness had settled down upon clearing and forest.

“This is my only chance,” said Dick, as he rose to his feet. “There will be darkness for a few minutes, and then the moon will be up. I must make a bold dash for it.”

He swung the rifle back on to his shoulders, drew his sword and revolver, and struck off across the clearing in the direction of the stockade.