Buch lesen: «The Eye of Istar: A Romance of the Land of No Return», Seite 14

Chapter Twenty Seven
Ngalyema

There is much truth in our Arab saying, that a day of pain appears everlasting if one does not dream of the bright to-morrow. A life’s unrest, indeed, seems but a day’s if one looks to the calm that Allah has promised shall be the reward of Believers. Beyond the pain and weariness is a white dawn, reunion and peace. Life with the fierce brigands of Tippu-Tib, the ivory king, was full of vicissitudes and horrors, as along the narrow native track, through the gloomy forest, we pushed forward.

Owing to the large number of rapids, it was impossible for the raiders to use the native canoes to ascend the Aruwimi on their return to Ipoto, where they had temporarily established themselves; therefore, in order to secure more ivory and slaves, Ngalyema had decided to take a route which ran into the forest, six days’ journey from the river, and which the guides assured us would follow the course of the Ituri and pass through a district where many settlements might be raided.

Compelled to travel in single file, our journey through the dark, endless Forest of Perpetual Night was slow, tedious and hazardous. At almost every step we were retarded by stumps, roots, climbers, convolvuli and green-scummed pools, while, by the absence of light, we were chilled and depressed, and the poisonous odours arising from the decaying mass of vegetation sickened us. Here and there, where the interlaced foliage overhead allowed the sunshine to struggle through, flocks of parrots screamed and whistled gleefully, and the tall tree-trunks looked grey and ghostly in the pale light; but our progress, creeping among the dense undergrowth, and climbing over fallen patriarchs of the forest, was full of anxiety. Plantains grew everywhere, therefore there was no lack of food; but the brutality with which the raiders treated their slaves caused a number of deaths ere we had been a dozen days on the march.

At length, one morning, the scouts, consisting of the two native guides, and about twenty Arabs, who were some distance ahead, rushed back with the news that they had come upon a large clearing, and that we were evidently approaching a village. The order to halt was immediately given, and Ngalyema himself, with a small force, went rapidly forward with the scouts to reconnoitre. In an hour they returned, stating that there were several villages in close proximity, and, with my gun ready, I accompanied the fighting-men in their dash forward. Passing across the clearing, where every plantain-stalk bore an enormous bunch of the fruit which filled the air with its odour, and where corn and sugar-canes were profusely cultivated, our pioneers suddenly came across a number of poisoned skewers, artfully concealed in the path, and these having been carefully picked out, we crept along, past a heap of bones of slaughtered game, to surround the settlement.

It was exciting work. We knew not whether the alarm had already been raised and the natives were lying in ambush. Each moment we expected to be greeted with a flight of poisoned arrows from the concealed defenders; but as we got within sight of the huts it seemed that our approach had been unnoticed.

Suddenly, however, the white garments of the raiders attracted attention, and in a few moments the village was in a tumult of apprehension. Without hesitation, our thick-lipped headman ordered the raiders to disperse into the jungle and surround the village, and as they dashed away and I took up a position behind a tree at a little distance from Tiamo, we could hear loud blasts being blown upon a horn.

In an instant the raiders opened a galling fire. A number of my fellow-marksmen had clambered up the adjacent trees, others were concealed in the dense undergrowth, while a small body still remained in the rear, prepared to charge when commanded. A few seconds after the alarm had been raised, the black warriors, armed with bows, arrows, shields and long spears, poured out of the stockade, yelling and brandishing their weapons, but so well had the attack been planned, that each volley of the Arabs felled dozens of the blacks.

Finding that we had got into ambush so cleverly, they retired immediately within their stockade, and from their cover launched flights of poisoned arrows in every direction. The missiles, the merest scratch from which would produce tetanus and death, swept through the foliage above us and stuck in the trunks of the trees in our vicinity, nevertheless wherever a black head or savage head-dress showed above the high stockade, it was picked off with unerring precision by our sharpshooters.

The rattle of musketry, however, had alarmed the neighbouring villages, and almost before we were aware of it we were attacked in the rear by a crowd of yelling savages armed with clubs and bows. For a few minutes our position appeared exceedingly critical; but this contingency had not been overlooked, for suddenly I noticed a number of our men, who had been left to guard the slaves, were drawing off the defenders’ reinforcement, and shooting them down with a cool recklessness that was surprising.

For half-an-hour the fierce fusillade continued, until at length Ngalyema gave the signal to charge. To this the Arabs quickly responded, and in a few moments had stormed the stockade and were inside, swarming over the huts, and fighting the savages hand-to-hand. The mêlée was exciting, but against guns savage weapons proved to be of little avail, and ere long a ruthless massacre of the unfortunate blacks became general. The very air was halituous of freshly-shed blood. As at Avisibba, the women and children were secured, the place looted, and every nook and corner searched, to discover the secreted tusks. None, however, could be found.

Ngalyema had evidently good cause for belief that a considerable amount of ivory had been collected, and after his men had proceeded to the three other small villages in the immediate vicinity, thoroughly searched them, and captured the defenceless portion of the inhabitants, the chief of the Avejeli, whose life had been spared, was brought before him. His name was Yakul, a stalwart savage, of proud bearing, wearing a loin-cloth of goatskin and a conical shaped head-dress ornamented with a swaling crimson plume, while upon his arms, wrists and ankles were four bangles fashioned from matako, the brass rods imported by white traders on the Congo.

Through one of the guides, who spoke the Monvu tongue, the headman of the raiders put a question, asking where his ivory was concealed. On hearing the inquiry, even before it was fully translated, he drew himself up, looked keenly into Ngalyema’s face, and answered, —

“Thou hast killed and enslaved my people, and thou mayest kill me. Thou art the friends of Tippu-Tib, against whom our wise men have long warned us. Finish thy dastardly shedding of blood. Kill me, and go.”

“We have no desire to kill thee,” the headman answered, with a smile. “Indeed, thou shalt regain thy liberty, and thy wives shall be returned unto thee if thou wilt disclose the hiding-place of thine ivory.”

“Thou hast destroyed my people. See now! Thou hast already applied the fire-brand unto my village!” he cried in fierce anger, shaking both his black fists. “Go. May the curse of the Evil Spirit who dwelleth in the darkness of the Great Forest, follow thee until death.”

“Pick out thy wives,” the other said, pointing to the large group of trembling women and children. “They are free, and likewise thyself, but the men of Tippu-Tib depart not hither until thou hast led them unto the place where thou hast concealed thy treasure.”

The chief’s fierce black eyes flashed with angry fire, as, waving his hand with a gesture of impatience, he replied, —

“Already have I answered.”

His four wives, however, watching the progress of the negotiations, and overhearing the offer of Ngalyema, dashed forward and flung themselves before their master, beseeching him to save his own life and theirs by disclosing the secret.

But he waved them aside with regal gesture, and folded his arms resolutely.

Then, one of the women rose, and turning to the Arab headman, said, —

“To save our lives I will reveal the spot unto thee. Come, it is but an arrow’s flight distant!”

The chief heard the words and sprang straight at her throat, but ere he could reach her the Arabs pulled him down. She stood erect and queenly, a splendid specimen of savage womanhood.

“Follow me,” she cried, wildly, and twenty of the raiders, myself included, sprang forward and accompanied her a little distance into the jungle until we came to a great ironwood-tree. For a moment she halted, with her back towards it, apparently taking bearings by a cottonwood-tree with silvery bark, and then, counting thirty paces in its direction, told us to search.

In a few minutes the dead leaves and fallen boughs were cleared, revealing a floor of hewn wood, and this being torn up the coveted treasure, consisting of more than a hundred magnificent tusks, was discovered beneath.

Shouting with glee, the raiders rushed back to their leader, announcing the news, and triumphantly dragging the chief’s wife back with them. Her three female companions cried loudly to the headman to release them, but he only laughed brutally, and ordered the Arabs around him to put them back with the other slaves. Then, finding to their dismay that the headman’s promise would not be fulfilled, the whole of the captured women made the forest ring with howls of execration, and heaped upon the raiders the most terrible curses their tongues could utter.

Meanwhile, the ivory was being pulled out of its hiding-place, and allotted in burdens to the slave-carriers. The flames, now spreading from hut to hut, leaped, roared and crackled, and a thick black smoke ascended, drifting slowly over the tops of the giant trees.

Turning to the proud chief of the Avejeli, the headman, through the negro interpreter, exclaimed, —

“I gave unto thee a chance to escape, but thou wouldst not accept it, even though the liberty of thy wives depended upon thy word.”

“The word of a follower of Tippu-Tib, like water fallen upon sand, is never to be found again,” Yakul answered.

Ngalyema bit his lip in anger, and waving his hand to those around him, exclaimed in Arabic, —

“Bind him. Let the son of offal die!”

In a trice cords were slipped around the ankles, wrists and neck of the unfortunate wretch in such a manner as to render him utterly powerless. Then the Arabs asked, —

“Speak, O leader, in what manner shall the pagan’s life be taken?”

“Take him yonder into the forest, and find a nest of red ants at the foot of a tree. There bind him, smear upon him some plantain juice, and let the insects devour him.”

“Thou hast spoken well, O leader!” the brigands cried, exultingly, and before he could realise the horrible fate that awaited him, the unfortunate chief, whose only offence was the strenuous and gallant defence of his home and his people, was hurried away into the jungle by the joyful rabble.

The shouting of the men executing the brutal Ngalyema’s orders could be heard away in the forest, while the remainder of the bandits proceeded with their work of relentless destruction. Not content with levelling the villages to ashes, they cut down the plantain grove, trampled down the corn, and destroyed the manioc, afterwards refreshing themselves with draughts from a trough of banana wine found in the village.

When the party returned from securing the chief in a position where he would be quickly eaten alive by the pests of the forest, the whole of the fighting-men reassembled, apparently beside themselves with delight at the complete mastery they had obtained over the savages. Piteous appeal availed the unfortunate slaves nothing. They were beaten, cuffed and tied together – two who attempted to escape, including the chief’s wife who had divulged the whereabouts of the ivory, being shot dead, and their bodies kicked ruthlessly aside.

At length the raiders, headed by one of the captured women, who was promised her liberty if she would act as their guide, moved forward along a narrow track leading into the depths of the forest, enriched by one hundred and thirty tusks, and nearly two hundred slaves.

As the men marched, onward, goading on the slaves with revolting brutality, I lingered behind for a moment to pick up a curiously-shaped axe that had apparently been forgotten. As I did so a loud, despairing shriek fell upon my ear.

I glanced around. The last of the rear guard of Tippu-Tib’s brigands had disappeared along the dark track. I remembered that the register of the actions of the righteous is in Illiyyûn, the book distinctly written: those who approach near unto Allah being witnesses thereto.

Again the piercing shriek was repeated, and I knew that the unfortunate wretch, bound to a tree, was being tortured to death, and literally devoured by a myriad insects. The injustice of his sentence caused me to hesitate, and a second later I resolved to release him.

I had but a few moments in which to accomplish it, for I well knew that, if discovered, my own life might be taken by the wild, bloodthirsty horde, who were indeed companions of the left hand, whom Allah had cut off, and over whom was the arched fire. Nevertheless, I dashed into the jungle, axe in hand, and guided by the condemned man’s cries, found him lashed tightly to a tree, and already covered from head to foot by the pests.

In an instant my axe severed his bonds and he sprang forward, and falling upon his knees, gratefully kissed my feet, uttering many words of thanks which I could not understand.

But I had not a moment to linger, therefore I gave him “peace,” and speeding back again to the smouldering ashes of the village, plunged into the forest depths down the dark, narrow path my merciless companions, the ivory-raiders, had taken.

Chapter Twenty Eight
Pigmies of the Forest

On every hand on their march eastward my companions spread destruction and death. The raiders’ track was marked by blood and ashes, for almost daily they shot down natives, burned villages, and added to the number of their slaves.

The horrors of that journey through the eternal gloom were endless, and the many cruelties and butcheries perpetrated in cold blood sufficient to send a thrill of horror through the most callous heart. Through all my varied experience with the hordes of the Mahdi and the Khalifa, I had never witnessed such scenes of fiendish brutality. Tiamo, whose savage nature had at first rejoiced in being one of this lawless band, was soon sickened, and often shuddered and expressed disgust.

Yet through all I had one goal in view, one object to attain – the discovery of the mystic spot where the Secret of the Asps might be revealed. The dreams that waved before my half-shut eyes were ever of Azala. Ever uppermost in my mind was the thought of her imprisoned in that great palace, surrounded by every gorgeous luxury, yet not allowed to participate, and patiently awaiting my return. Each day, when darkness set in, I thought of her opening her lattice, praying for Allah’s favour and breathing words of love to be borne afar to me upon the sunset wind. When should we again meet, I wondered. Perhaps never.

But the story of my strange journey, stranger than man had ever before undertaken, slips away from me as I think of her.

The notches on Tiamo’s gun, which he fortunately recovered before leaving Avisibba, showed that the day arranged for the attack upon Kano by the Dervishes had long passed, for already we had been absent five moons. If Ayesha had not delivered my warning, or if the Sultan had disregarded it, then the Empire of Sokoto was doomed. Of what dire consequences would result from the non-delivery of my hastily-scrawled message I feared to contemplate, for I knew that if the Ansar entered Kano, the woman I loved would most certainly be seized and carried away to grace the harem of the brutal Ruler of the Soudan.

But, trusting to the guidance of the One Guide, I strove to assure myself of her safety, and with a stout heart pushed forward, determined to overcome every obstacle that beset my path. Bitten and stung by numberless tribes of insects, including a beetle so small that it could not be detected with the naked eye, but which burrowed deeply into the flesh, producing most painful sores; continually on the alert against the many green, gold and black snakes, puff-adders, pythons and other deadly reptiles, we went forward, week by week, until the wretched slaves, half-starved and brutally ill-used, became mere shrunken skeletons of their former selves, disfigured by terrible ulcers caused by the insects, while the fighting-men themselves became lean, pale and weakened. Through a suffocating wilderness of arums, amoma and bush, over damp ground that exuded foetid, poisonous vapours, we struggled onward, until one day we were startled to hear on before us the sound of muskets, loud, wild shouting, and the violent beating of tam-tams.

Ngalyema and his men halted quickly to listen. The sounds approached.

“Thank Allah!” the headman cried in delight when, in a few moments, a strange, half-bred Arab pushed his way toward us, giving us loud and profuse greetings. “Our guides have not deceived us. We are at last at Kalunga!”

Pushing forward, our scouts had apprised the raiders’ settlement of our approach, and the wildest excitement at once prevailed. My companions, with one accord dashed onward, and on accompanying them I found myself in a great, open clearing around a strong stockade, within which stood a number of well-constructed huts. Here, once again, after a perpetual gloom lasting nine weeks, we saw the blessed light of day, the cloudless sky and the brilliant sun, and breathed the pure air laden with the sweet perfume of many flowers.

We were, I discovered, actually in the country of the Wambutti pigmies, some of whom, sleek little people, about the height of a sword, and of the colour of yellow ivory, I saw among the Arabs. Kalunga was an out-lying station established by Tippu-Tib’s brigands in order to extend their raids deeper into the Forest of Perpetual Night; and it was Ngalyema himself, who, a few hours later, suggested that from the curious race of forest-dwellers in the vicinity I might possibly obtain knowledge of the whereabouts of the Rock of the Great Sin. He even suggested that one or two of his own fighting-men should accompany me on my lonely journey south in search of the pigmies, but knowing that he desired to obtain for himself knowledge of the spot, I firmly declined his offer, declaring that I felt less open to attack accompanied only by Tiamo than if his slave-raiders bore me company.

During two days I remained at the Arab settlement, watching the manner in which the slaves were secured previous to deportation to the headquarters at Ipoto, on the Ituri river, forty days distant; then, with my trusty companion, El-Sadic, I left the place at dead of night, in order to escape Ngalyema’s vigilance, and again we plunged into the forest depths along the narrow, winding, half-effaced track which had been pointed out to me as running south to the distant villages of the mysterious race of dwarfs. In that impenetrable darkness our progress was slow, but when day dawned above, just sufficient light struggled through the dense foliage to enable us to pursue our way. It was a lonely journey, full of terrors and anxieties, for were we not approaching the tribe, of all the people in the Forest of Night the most hostile?

Ever on the alert lest we should receive the poisoned shaft of some hidden dwarf of the woods, or tread upon a poisoned skewer, we struggled still onward. Day succeeded day until we kept no count of them. Tiamo, who had borne the fatigues of our long journey without a murmur, and bravely faced the perils to which we had continuously been exposed, now appeared to have grown despairing and gloomy. The eternal twilight was certainly not conducive to high spirits, but my dwarf companion seemed overwhelmed by some strange precursor of evil.

As deeper into the forest we penetrated, food became scarcer, and hunger consumed us daily. We were subsisting on wood-beans, occasional plantains, bananas and some wild fruit, but as not a gleam of sunshine gladdened our eyes, or breath of pure air refreshed us, it was scarcely surprising that my slave should give vent to his innermost thoughts. One morning, in the dim, grey hour when things were just creeping out of darkness and everything was colourless and unreal, he appeared unusually gloomy, and when I inquired the cause, answered, —

“In the night, O master, I had a dream. The future was revealed unto me,” and he shuddered perceptibly. “Verily, I believe that our quest is futile; that death is nigh unto us. I have a presentiment that the eyes of the beauteous Lalla Azala will never again be gladdened by sight of thee, and that mine own bones also will be stripped by the scavengers of the forest.”

“Let not such gloomy apprehensions find a dwelling-place within thee, Tiamo,” I answered, forcing a smile. “Relinquish not thy brave bearing. For aught we know we are, even at this moment, on the point of a discovery.”

“The men of Tippu-Tib assured me that the dwarfs of the Wambutti resent the intrusion of strangers, and murder those who dare approach them except in force,” he exclaimed, gloomily.

“Did we not set forth to seek the Rock of the Great Sin, and didst thou not express thy readiness to accompany me whithersoever I went?” I asked.

“I did, O master,” he answered. “But I knew not that we should seek to penetrate the country of the man-eaters.”

“Allah, – may he be glorified! – counteth them as flies, but extendeth unto us his guidance and protection,” I said. “Put thy faith in the One Guide, and he will comfort and preserve thee.”

Mumbling some mystic words in his own tongue, the meaning of which I knew not, he fumbled with his amulets and raised his open hand above his head, as if imploring the protection of his pagan gods. Then, rising to his feet, and with a look of renewed energy, he exclaimed, —

“Of a verity thy lips utter the truth. We may be even now near unto the shore of the Lake of the Accursed, and upon the verge of discovering that which is weirdly mysterious and unknown. I will abandon fear and continue to seek with diligence for that of which we are in quest.”

“We have both promised,” I said, solemnly. “We have travelled afar, and are but fulfilling our duty towards the Lalla Azala, thy mistress.”

“True, O master,” he said. “Pearls of wisdom fall ever from thy lips as rain upon a thirsty land. I am ready. Let us move forward.”

At the bidding of my apelike companion I rose, and again we started along the disused track, rendered almost impassable by trailing creepers, vines, and thick undergrowth. During that day we struggled forward, passing through a village that had apparently been burned by the Arabs some months before, and, continuing our way still southward, we entered a path that had been so widened by elephants that we could walk side by side and converse, when suddenly, without warning, the earth beneath us gave way and we were both precipitated headlong into a deep pit that had been artfully concealed by leaves, twigs, and a thin layer of earth. My knee was bruised severely, but in a moment I struggled to my feet to gaze around. I raved to and fro, screaming and crying upon Allah and Eblis, for I was dismayed to discover that the pit had been dug so deeply, with sides slanting inwards, that to escape was utterly impossible.

We had been caught by one of the elephant-traps, in the arrangement of which the pigmies display so much ingenuity and cunning. We had fallen into an abyss of doom.

“Alas, O master! this misfortune hath shackled our footsteps!” the dwarf exclaimed, rubbing his abnormally large woolly head where he had struck it. “I dreamed that we were dying.”

No word passed my lips. In vain I searched frantically for some mode of escape, but could discover none. My companion’s words, were, alas! too true! We had nothing left, but misery! The heart of night, and the forest’s heart were tranquil in primordial silence. The mishap was worse than a misfortune, for it meant either capture by the malicious little denizens of that weird realm of perpetual darkness, or a lingering death from starvation.

To endeavour to reach the surface, I mounted the dwarf upon my shoulders, but my heart sank when I saw that the point to which he could stretch his hands was still fully a spear’s length below the ground. Had he been a full-grown man and not of dwarfed stature, it was possible that we might have escaped by this means, but all schemes that we devised proved impracticable, and we were compelled to walk backwards and forwards within the dark, deep hole, awaiting the arrival of our exulting captors, who would, no doubt, believe that in me, an Arab, they had caught one of their arch enemies – the raiders of Tippu-Tib.

The gloom grew deeper, the birds far above ceased their chattering, a fact which told us that it was the hour of the maghrib, when, suddenly in the silence, we heard leaves rustling, and twigs broken as by footsteps.

Next second, a black head appeared, cautiously leaning over the pit looking down upon us, and a voice uttered a loud cry in a language neither of us knew.

My heart leaped, and beat quickly.

The savage’s face seemed to smile in mockery of my dismay; his scream of delight was the death knell of all my hopes, and, as the sinister head was withdrawn, I stood breathless, unarmed, wondering in what form death would come to us, and praying to Allah that we might die swiftly and painlessly, for I dreaded the horrible, revolting tortures I had so frequently witnessed.

I remembered it was the hour when Azala, in the far-off city of the Sultan, was wafting to me, from her high lattice, a fervent message of comfort, of peace and of love. There came before me the pale image of those hours of enchantment. Upon the successful accomplishment of my strange mission depended all our future, all our happiness. I struggled to look the circumstances fairly in the face, to see the folly of my wild frenzy, and to reason with myself.

But a profound sense of loneliness, helplessness and despair had settled upon me. I became seized by an excessive dread.