Witch-Doctors Part 11

"The launch returned immediately to Jinja, Excellence, as soon as the prisoner had landed."

"Ach, good."

"The prisoner has a considerable battery, equipment and provisions; a headman and personal servants. He intended to obtain porters here, Excellence."

Zu Pfeiffer meditated, tapping the desk with a gold pencil.

"What is the headman?"

"Bambeeba, Excellence."

"Good. And the servants?"

"One is a Wongolo youth, the others are mixed Walegga and Kavirondo."

"Arrest them all and see that none gets away."

"Excellence!"

Schultz saluted and departed. Zu Pfeiffer frowned at the glare which was suddenly extinguished by falling water. He lighted a cigar and waited.

Presently the sergeant returned in a waterproof cape, dripping, and announced that the prisoner was ready. Zu Pfeiffer gathered up his long legs and marched stiffly into the Court House adjoining.

Upon a slight dais was a large desk and a cane armchair beneath the Imperial Eagles and a portrait of the Kaiser Wilhelm II. Pale, stubble bearded, and tense eyed with anger, sat Birnier upon a form against the wall; beside him stood Sergeant Schneider, for it is not usual etiquette to put a white prisoner in charge of a black guard. The grizzled sergeant stood stuffy to attention, which zu Pfeiffer acknowledged. Although he did not meet Birnier's gaze, he scowled as if he had expected him to salute the majesty of the judge as well.

But as zu Pfeiffer mounted the step to the chair of justice he looked up at the portrait of the Kaiser, stopped, and hesitated; then he wheeled abruptly, and barked:

"Sergeant, bring the prisoner to the orderly room!"

In the orderly room Birnier was placed between Sergeant Schultz at his table and Sergeant Schneider by the door. Birnier watched zu Pfeiffer intently, but zu Pfeiffer regarded him icily as if he were a piece of furniture. Without a word Birnier reached out and lifted a chair. Sergeant Schneider started forward, evidently fearing that the prisoner was about to attack his officer. Birnier said acidly: "I merely wish to sit down."

Zu Pfeiffer scowled again, but he made no objection. He took up some papers at random and began to peruse them. Said Birnier sharply:

"When you have finished with this farce I shall be obliged if you will kindly explain your insane actions!"

The tap-tap of a typewriter sounded from another room. A fly buzzed. Zu Pfeiffer's eyelids did not blink. The sergeants stared woodenly to the front. Birnier looked from one to the other, bit his lips, and then exclaimed in exasperation: "What in h.e.l.l do you mean by this d.a.m.ned nonsense?"

The tap-tap continued; the fly buzzed irritatedly. Birnier clenched his fist. But he sat still. Another storm so darkened the room that zu Pfeiffer could scarcely have seen the print, but apparently he read on.

The deluge roared, pa.s.sed, and the glare came as suddenly. Zu Pfeiffer lifted his head and said in German:

"Sergeant, record the opening of the Court."

"Excellence!" a.s.sented Sergeant Schultz and poised his pen ready to write.

"The prisoner, a Swiss subject--"

"I am American, as I have told you," said Birnier in leashed anger.

"A pseudo trader and hunter, named Carl Bornstadt," continued zu Pfeiffer imperturbably, "is charged under sub-section 79 of section 8 with supplying guns and liquor to the native subjects of his Imperial Majesty."

"Good G.o.d!" began Birnier. But as he realised zu Pfeiffer's purpose and his own position, he closed his lips tightly.

Methodically the sergeant finished the entries and waited. Zu Pfeiffer stroked his favourite moustache and considered. He glanced at Birnier, but without a vestige of expression and continued:

"Make a special note, sergeant, that we have reason to suspect that the prisoner is in the political service of"-a slight smile flicked the lieutenant's face-"in the service of the Portuguese, and so under sub-section 109 of section 8, I am referring the case to Dar-es-salaam for investigation; witnesses, doc.u.mentary and personal, to accompany the prisoner. Owing to unusual pressure of service we are unable to afford the prisoner, although apparently of European descent, a white guard; therefore, Sergeant Ludwig will detail a corporal and six men for the duty."

He paused. The sergeant's pen scratched on. Zu Pfeiffer lighted a cigar and added impersonally:

"The prisoner and escort will leave to-morrow morning. Sergeant Schneider, remove the prisoner!"

Birnier's face was a little paler, the eyes were slightly more bloodshot; but he did not attempt to speak. Zu Pfeiffer rose. The sergeants stood to attention and saluted. As he left the room towards the Court House, he smiled with slight satisfaction as the gruff voice of Sergeant Schneider barked: "Prisoner, shun! Right turn! Quick marrch!"

But zu Pfeiffer did not remain long in the Court House. After fidgeting about with papers on the table and reprimanding Sergeant Schultz because he had not arranged the next native case to his satisfaction, he rose abruptly and marched swiftly across the square in the brilliant glare without his helmet and into his study. There he straddled a chair and leaned on the back sucking a dead cigar absent-mindedly. As he stared at the portrait in the ivory frame, the blue eyes grew soft and the delicate lips quivered like a child about to weep. He sighed heavily and then rapping out an oath, rose violently, overturning the chair, poured out a half-gla.s.s of neat cognac, and drank it at a gulp. As he neared the Court House the sentry, turning at the end of his short beat, was so startled at the proximity of the Kommandant, or incompletely disciplined, that he became flurried. Zu Pfeiffer clicked his heels together and haughtily watched the fumbled efforts to salute. The bolt caught in the man's tunic.

Gold flashed in the sun as the sjambok descended. Zu Pfeiffer walked on unconcernedly, leaving a grey weal on the terrified native's face. To Sergeant Schultz, rigid in the doorway, he snapped an order to have fifty lashes given to the "clumsy dog."

Sentences were harsher than usual that morning. All the native world about him knew that a demon had taken possession of the Eater-of-men; he was usually inhabited by an evil spirit, but this time the demon of Bakra who, as everybody knows, tears the vitals with hot claws, making the victim to have fits, to foam at the mouth, to be quite mad, had entered the white man. Bakunjala, coming to the Court House with vermouth and biscuits at eleven o'clock, distinctly saw the devil glaring through zu Pfeiffer's eyes, and was so scared that he let fall the tray, which was the reason that he also was doomed to have twenty-five lashes that evening. Even the stolid Sergeant Schultz remarked that the Herr Lieutenant had gotten a touch of the sun; but the grizzled Schneider, who came from Luthuania, opined that the Herr Kommandant had left his table knife edge uppermost.

When zu Pfeiffer went across to tiffin the hot sun had dried up the gutters and the plot of gra.s.s. He did not return to the Court House, much to the grat.i.tude of many innocent and guilty. After drinking more wine than usual he lay down for the siesta and fell asleep. But at five he awoke with a mouth like a burnt cooking pot and the temper of the said devil. He yelled for Bakunjala, who came, so trembling with fright that he stuttered. Zu Pfeiffer threw a gla.s.s which missed him and broke a mirror.

"Another seven years' ill luck!" shouted zu Pfeiffer, sitting on the bed in his s.h.i.+rt. He glared at Bakunjala standing in the door, too terror-stricken to flee, convinced that he would be blamed for breaking the gla.s.s. "You-you superst.i.tious n.i.g.g.e.r!" yelled zu Pfeiffer, and added more calmly in Kiswahili: "Fetch me a brandy-soda! Upesi, you son of a baboon!"

"Bwana!" exclaimed Bakunjala and fled gladly.

Zu Pfeiffer sat and scowled at the scattered pieces of mirror until Bakunjala arrived with the drink. An hour later he emerged in his immaculate undress uniform and sat on the north verandah, drank vermouth and smoked cigars, staring out across the flat swamp where the pewter of the lake was flecked with silver and blood of the sinking sun. From beyond the fort came the yaps of the drill-sergeant busy in the cool of the afternoon. At the bark of the relieving guard, zu Pfeiffer rose and walked around the house to watch, with tetchy eyes, the saluting of the flag.

As he stalked off to dinner in the messroom eyes glimmered in the darkness about him. Bakunjala, after receiving punishment, was indisposed, in fact incapable of attending to his duties in the spritely manner required.

Another servant, who had taken his place, was nervous of the probable consequences, and had a keen eye for the appearance of the devil so realistically described by Bakunjala. But the demon apparently slept, for zu Pfeiffer took the dishes placed before him with an unaccustomed meekness, pushed them away absent-mindedly, and rising, retired to his study. Even when the deputy brought the wrong bottle he reprimanded him mildly without taking his eyes off the photograph in the ivory frame.

Yet, with the port, he did not omit to rise, and heels together, raise his gla.s.s to the "Ihre Hochheit." Then sprawling in the chair he began to drink and to smoke steadily.

As the notes of the last post stuttered out in the clammy stillness he summoned the "boy" and bade him fetch Sergeant Schultz. At the sound of the sergeant's steps on the verandah zu Pfeiffer stiffened up and patted his lips as if desiring to erase the lines that were graven thereon; and with one foot pushed the chair from the direct angle to the photograph.

"Take a cigar," said zu Pfeiffer, when the man had entered. The words were rather an order than an invitation. Sergeant Schultz obeyed. Zu Pfeiffer smoked reflectively, still regarding the photograph out of the corner of his eyes as if unable to resist the fascination.

"How long have you been in this benighted country, sergeant?"

"Nine years, Excellence."

"You wish to retire on the pension at the year's term?"

"I have not seen my wife and children for three years, Excellence."

"You shall have special leave as soon as the Wongolo affair is over."

"I thank you, Excellence."

"And I will recommend you for the special colonial service medal and pension."

"I thank you, Excellence."