The Fire-Gods Part 20

Throughout all this every one had remained motionless, rooted to the spot. The whole thing had been so unexpected and so sudden. Nothing like it had ever happened before.

De Costa stood by with chattering teeth. The very sight of Caesar's punishment had set the ague shaking in his bones. The slaves were petrified by fear. They looked on in breathless silence, with their mouths opened wide and their heavy under-lips hanging so low as to show their white teeth and gums. As for the Arabs, even they were too surprised to act. They had known the Portuguese for two years, and they knew that his word was law; not one of them would have dared for a moment to defy him. On that account they could not believe what they saw.

Caesar rolled over on his face, and then struggled to his feet. He stood for a moment swaying. Then he pa.s.sed a hand across his eyes.

After that, he shot Max such a glance as it were impossible to describe.

Therein were pa.s.sion, hatred and vengeance.

He felt in his pockets, as if he searched for something. It was his revolver, which had fallen to the ground. Not seeing it, he staggered to the Arab who was nearest, and held out his hand.

"Give me that," said he in Arabic.

The man, with the stoic indifference of all his race, handed over his rifle, and Caesar took it, though his hand was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Step by step, he returned to Max. He walked like a drunken man.

There were great weals upon his face and hands, and there was blood upon his coat.

"You shall pay for that!" said he.

The slaves cowered at the water's edge. They were like sheep in a storm. As for de Costa, he stood there, impotent to help, yet willing to do so, his hands clasped before him, and s.h.i.+vering from head to foot.

The Arab who had handed over his rifle was smoking a cigarette.

"You shall pay for that!" said Caesar.

So saying, he raised his rifle to his shoulder and took long and careful aim. He was not ten paces from Max. It seemed impossible he could miss. Still, we must remember that he was unsteady on his feet, that it was all he could do to stand.

There was a flash--a loud report--a quick jet of fire; and Max was struck in the chest with the cotton wad, and his face was blackened by the powder. For all that, the bullet had sped past, to bury itself in the bed of the Hidden River.

Caesar let fall an oath and then re-loaded, ejecting the cartridge case.

That done, he stepped even nearer, and lifted his rifle again.

At that moment a double report sounded from the hills, and the Portuguese gave a kind of gulp and then fell forward on his face, his rifle still in his hand.

CHAPTER XVIII--FREEDOM

There are some men who are born to command, who imbue their followers with confidence, who are masters of the art of managing men.

Caesar was one of these. He had entered the heart of Africa at the time when the first great explorers were opening up the unknown continent, and some small knowledge connected with the source of the Nile and the presence of the Great Lakes was reaching the ears of Europe.

For the most part these daring pioneers penetrated Africa either to shoot big game or propagate the Christian Gospel, or in the cause of science. Grant, Speke, Mason and Stanley were geographers, explorers before all else. Livingstone was a missionary; and Cotton Oswell, Gordon-c.u.mming and Sir Samuel Baker were hunters of big game. Unlike these famous men, the Portuguese, who afterwards adopted the name of "Caesar," was prompted by purely selfish motives--the acquisition of wealth.

Like every one else, he found the interior overrun by the Arabs, who, since time immemorial, had exploited the equatorial regions for slaves for the Greek satraps and the Roman consuls. The abolition of the slave trade did not affect the regions of the Upper Nile, the Great Lakes and the Congo. Laws which men chose to make in Europe could in no way modify or hinder what went on in the equatorial forests. Not only in Zanzibar, but even in Cairo, there was an open slave market where the trade continued to flourish.

Nothing can speak so eloquently for the virility, the craft and cunning, of the Arab as the fact that for centuries millions of savage warriors were held in fear and trembling by a few hundreds of these ruthless sons of the desert. In quite recent years, when Stanley made his pa.s.sage of the Congo and the Aruwimi in search of Emin Pasha, he found Arab slave stations scattered at intervals throughout the unknown forest, and his whole expedition must have perished had it not been for the a.s.sistance he received from the Arab ivory hunters in the valleys of the Upper Congo.

In his early days the tall Portuguese had also taken care to be on friendly terms with the Arabs. He was one who was quick to learn, and experience taught him two things: firstly, that the Arab will do anything for profit; and secondly, that once his word has been given he is one of the most faithful friends in the world.

The Arabs employed at Makanda were men whom Caesar knew that he could trust. Each was to have his share of the plunder when the slave camp was broken up and the Portuguese returned to Europe. Until then he knew they would stand by him, faithful to their promise that he could rely upon their courage in case of emergency.

In the panic that now took place Caesar must have been captured had it not been for the heroism of the Arabs. He had been taken by surprise in open country. There was no escape by way of the quarry, and upon the hills on the other side of the river was Edward Harden, who, in spite of the fact that he had said that Crouch was a better shot than himself--had the clearest eye and the steadiest hand of any man throughout the length and breadth of Africa.

The slaves were distracted. Those who were joined together by chains ran to the quarry and huddled in a crowd. Those who were free to go whither they listed ran to and fro, filling the air with their cries. As for de Costa, he could do nothing but wring his hands and look about him for some place of safety.

Max, by the sheer weight of the slaves with whom he was yoked, was dragged onward to the quarry. He tried to a.s.sure them that there was nothing whatsoever to fear, but they were incapable of understanding a word of what he said.

In those brief moments it was only the prompt action of the Arabs that saved Caesar's life. The Portuguese had been shot in the chest. He was unconscious for no longer than a few seconds, and then he struggled to an elbow.

When they saw that their master was alive two Arabs hastened towards him and lifted him in their arms. Under a perfect hail of fire from the six rifles on the hills they bore him to a place of safety at the southern extremity of the lake where a long canoe was moored. They could not cross at the bridge, since it was immediately under fire from the granite hills.

Then followed a race--a race for the stockade. Harden, Crouch, and the four Fans appeared upon the crest-line, and thence came down into the valley with a cheer.

In the meantime, the Arabs so plied their paddles that the canoe shot across the lake like a dart, dividing the water at the prow into two long feathery waves. When they sprang ash.o.r.e, a little above the place where the Englishmen had landed on the day they first came to Makanda, M'Wane, who was leading the attack, was not fifty paces distant.

The Fan chieftain dropped upon his knees to fire, and missed. And a moment later the door of the stockade was closed.

M'Wane retreated no less hastily than he had come, with the bullets flying at his heels, splas.h.i.+ng in the sand. Halfway up the slope he met Edward Harden striding forward, rifle in hand.

"Too late!" he cried. "Master, why did not the white wizard teach me to shoot like you?"

Edward smiled, and placed a hand on M'Wane's shoulder.

"You'll have another chance all right," said he. "They've shut themselves up in a trap."

By this time Crouch, who had already given up the chase, had descended to the suspension bridge and crossed to the quarry. There the first person he set eyes upon was de Costa.

"Hands up!" he cried. And at the word de Costa threw up his arms pleading for mercy.

Crouch looked about him, and heard Max's voice calling for a.s.sistance.

And at that, of his own accord, de Costa took a bunch of keys from his pocket and offered them to Crouch. They were the keys of the iron collars of the slaves.

A few seconds later every slave was free. They could not at first realize what had happened; and then, one man, more intelligent than his fellows, grasped the truth, and picking up the chain which had been fastened to his neck for many months hurled it into the river.

Max told his story in a few words. He explained how he had been captured, and showed Crouch the rubies.

Crouch turned to the half-caste. "Will you throw in your lot with us?"

he asked.

"I am ready to do so," said de Costa. "I would have told you all that night when Caesar found you in the hut."

"I have some reason to believe that to be true," said Crouch. "I hold to my original promise. Stand by us to-day, and I'll take you down to the Coast. You must see that the game's up for Caesar."

De Costa intimated that he was only waiting to receive orders.

"Very well," sad the captain; "you probably have some authority over these poor brutes of slaves. I suppose you can speak their language?

Tell them they are free. Explain to them that they owe their liberty to us, and ask them to lend us a helping hand. Select a party of the strongest, and take them yourself to the village on the mountain. There you will find our ammunition and stores. Bring them here as quickly as you can, and don't forget the medicine chest. We must lend what help we can."