The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar Wallace

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СКАЧАТЬ the days of waiting he sent a long message to the Administration, which lived in ease a hundred miles down the coast. He had a land wire running along the seashore, and when it worked it was a great blessing. Fortunately it was in good order now, but there had been times when wandering droves of elephants had pulled up the poles and twisted a mile or so of wire into a hopeless tangle.

      The reply to his message came quickly.

      “Take extreme steps to wipe out society. If necessary arrest Tigili. I will support you with four hundred men and a gunboat; prefer you should arrange the matter without fuss. ADMINISTRATION.”

      Sanders took a long walk by the sea to think out the situation and the solution. If the people were preparing for war, there would be simultaneous action, a general rising. He shook his head. Four hundred men and a gunboat more or less would make no difference. There was a hope that one tribe would rise before the other? he could deal with the Akasava; he could deal with the Isisi plus the Akasava; he was sure of the Ochori — that was a comfort — but the others? He shook his head again. Perhaps the inherent idleness of the Akasava would keep them back. Such a possibility was against their traditions.

      He must have come upon a solution suddenly, for he stopped dead in his walk, and stood still, thinking profoundly, with his head upon his breast. Then he turned and walked quickly back to his bungalow.

      What date had been chosen for the rising we may never know for certain. What is known is that the Akasava, the N’Gombi, the Isisi, and the Boleki folk were preparing in secret for a time of killing, when there came the great news.

      Sandi was dead.

      A canoe had overturned on the Isisi River, and the swift current had swept the Commissioner away, and though men ran up and down the bank no other sign of him was visible but a great white helmet that floated, turning slowly, out of sight.

      So a man of the Akasava reported, having learnt it from a sergeant of Houssas, and instantly the o-koli beat sharply, and the headmen of the villages came panting to the palaver house to meet the paramount chief of the Akasava.

      “Sandi is dead,” said the chief solemnly. “He was our father and our mother and carried us in his arms; we loved him and did many disagreeable things for him because of our love. But now that he is dead, and there is none to say ‘Yea’ or ‘Nay’ to us, the time of which I have spoken to you secretly has come; therefore let us take up our arms and go out, first against the God-men who pray and bewitch us with the sprinkling of water, then against the chief of the Ochori, who for many years have put shame upon us.”

      “Master,” said a little chief from the fishing village which is near to the Ochori border, “is it wise — our Lord Sandi having said there shall be no war?”

      “Our Lord Sandi is dead,” said the paramount chief wisely; “and being dead, it does not greatly concern us what he said; besides which,” he said, as a thought struck him, “last night I had a dream and saw Sandi; he was standing amidst great fires, and he said, ‘Go forth and bring me the head of the chief of the Ochori.’”

      No further time was wasted. That night the men of twenty villages danced the dance of killing, and the great fire of the Akasava burnt redly on the sandy beach to the embarrassment of a hippo family that lived in the high grasses near by.

      In the grey of the morning the Akasava chief mustered six hundred spears and three score of canoes, and he delivered his oration; “First, we will destroy the mission men, for they are white, and it is not right that they should live and Sandi be dead; then we will go against Bosambo, the chief of the Ochori. When rains came in the time of kidding, he who is a foreigner and of no human origin brought many evil persons with him and destroyed our fishing villages, and Sandi said there should be no killing. Now Sandi is dead, and, I do not doubt, in hell, and there is none to hold our pride.”

      Round the bend of the river, ever so slowly, for she was breasting a strong and treacherous current, came the nose of the Zaire. It is worthy of note that the little blue flag at her stern was not at half-mast. The exact significance of this was lost on the Akasava. Gingerly the little craft felt its way to the sandy strip of beach, a plank was thrust forth, and along it came, very dapper and white, his little ebony stick with the silver knob swinging between his fingers, Mr Commissioner Sanders, very much alive, and there were two bright Maxim-guns on either side of the gangway that covered the beach.

      A nation, paralysed by fear and apprehension, watched the debarquement, the chief of the Akasava being a little in advance of his painted warriors. On Sanders’ face was a look of innocent surprise. “Chief,” said he, “you do me great honour that you gather your young men to welcome me; nevertheless, I would rather see them working in their gardens.” He walked along one row of fighting men, plentifully besmeared with camwood, and his was the leisurely step of some great personage inspecting a guard of honour.

      “I perceive,” he went on, talking over his shoulder to the chief who, fascinated by the unexpected vision, followed him, “I perceive that each man has a killing spear, also a fighting shield of wicker work, and many have N’Gombi swords.”

      “Lord, it is true,” said the chief, recovering his wits, “for we go hunting elephant in the Great Forest.”

      “Also that some have the little bones of men fastened about their necks — that is not for the elephant,” he said this meditatively, musingly, as he continued his inspection, and the chief was frankly embarrassed.

      “There is a rumour,” he stammered, “it is said — there came a spy who told us — that the Ochori were gathering for war, and we were afraid—”

      “Strange,” said Sanders, half to himself, but speaking in the vernacular, “strange indeed is this story, for I have come straight from the Ochori city, and there I saw nothing but men who ground corn and hunted peacefully; also their chief is ill, suffering from a fever.” He shook his head in well-simulated bewilderment.

      “Lord,” said the poor chief of the Akasava, “perhaps men have told us lies — such things have happened—”

      “That is true,” said Sanders gravely. “This is a country of lies: some say that I am dead; and, lo! the news has gone around that there is no law in the land, and men may kill and war at their good pleasure.”

      “Though I die at this minute,” said the chief virtuously, “though the river turn to fire and consume my inmost stomach, though every tree become a tiger to devour me, I have not dreamt of war.”

      Sanders grinned internally.

      “Spare your breath,” he said gently, “you who go hunting elephants, for it is a long journey to the Great Forest, and there are many swamps to be crossed, many rivers to be swum. My heart is glad that I have come in time to bid you farewell.” There was a most impressive silence, for this killing of elephants was a stray excuse of the chief’s. The Great Forest is a journey of two months, one to get there and one to return, and is moreover through the most cursed country, and the Akasava are not a people that love long journeys save with the current of the river.

      The silence was broken by the chief.

      “Lord, we desire to put off our journey in your honour, for if we go, how shall we gather in palaver?”

      Sanders shook his head. “Let no man stop the hunter,” quoth he. “Go in peace, chief, and you shall secure many teeth.” [Tusks — EW] He saw a sudden light come to the chief’s eyes, but continued, “I will СКАЧАТЬ