CHAPTER FOURTEEN
PARCERE SUBJECTIS?
'When the devil's at bay Ye may kneel down and pray For a year and a day To be spared the distress of dispatching him, But the longer ye kneel The more squeamish ye'll feel 'Cause the louder he'll squeal, And at brotherly talk there's no matching him. Discussion's his aim, And as sure as you're game To give heed to the same, You regarding extremes with compunction, You may bet he'll requite Your compassion with spite, Knifing you in the night With much probonopublico unction.
For a while we looked like having trouble with Coutlass. We gave Browna rifle, and distributed the other Mausers among Kazimoto and our bestboys, but we did not dare trust the Greek with a weapon he might useagainst us, and he resented that bitterly. He had an answer to Fred'ssubterfuge that as a white man he would need a license before daring tocarry firearms. "I dare do anything! I care nothing for law!" heargued, and Fred nodded.
That night we reveled in luxury, for after the life we had led recentlyit took time to reaccustom any of us to the common comforts.Schillingschen traveled with every provision for his carcass and hisbelly; and we plundered him.
We put the prisoners and our own porters in a hut in the nearest nativevillage (less than half a mile away) under the watchful eye of Kazimotoand the shot-gun, dividing Schillingschen's two large tents betweenourselves. The others offered me the camp-bed as a recent invalid, butI refused, and Will won it by matching coins. We divided the blanketsin the same way, and all the spare underwear. Brown and Coutlass hadto be satisfied with cotton blankets from a bale of trade goods; butwhen they had rifled enough to build up good thick mattresses as wellas coverings, there were still two apiece for our boys and all theporters.
The chop-boxes were a revelation. The man had with him food enough forat least a year's traveling, including all the canned delicacies thathungry men dream about in the wilderness. Before we slept we ate soenormously of so very many things that it was a wonder that we wereable to sleep at all.
We all hoped Schillingschen would die, for it was a hard problem whatto do with him. He had no papers in his possession, beyond a diarywritten in German schrift that even Will could not make head or tailof, for all his knowledge of the language; and a very vague mapbearing the imprint of the British government, filled in by himselfwith the names of the villages he had passed on his way. There was noproof that we could find that would have condemned him of nefariouspractises in a British court of law.
"And believe me," argued Will, sprawling on the plundered bed, blowingthe smoke of a Melachrino through his nose, "your local British judgeswould take the word of Professor Schillingschen against all of ours,backed up by simply overwhelming native evidence! They're so in awe ofSchillingschen's professorial degree, and of his passports, and hisletters of introduction from this and that mogul that they wouldn'tbelieve him guilty of arson if they caught him in the act!"
"Something's got to be done with him pretty soon, though," answeredFred from the floor, lying at ease on a pillow and a folded Jaegerblanket, smoking a fat cigar.
Coutlass and Brown were singing songs outside the tent and I sat in agenuine armchair with my feet on a box full of canned plum pudding.(Nobody knows, who has not hungered on the high or low veld--who hasnot eaten meat without vegetables for days on end, and then porridgewithout salt or sugar--how good that common, export, canned plumPudding is! To sit with my feet on the case that contained it was thearrogance of affluence!)
"We have his stores and his papers," said I. "We have his Baganda;and as time goes on, and his other spies begin to come in, we shallhave them, too, if we're half careful. Why don't we let him go, totell his own tale wherever he likes?"
"Maybe he'll die yet!" said the optimist on the camp-bed, blowing morecigarette smoke.
"Suppose he doesn't. We've done our best to keep him alive. He's quitbleeding. Suppose we let him go, and he lays a charge against us.Suppose they send after us and bring us in. We've his diary and hismen--evidence enough," said I.
"You bally ass!" Fred murmured.
"Cuckoo!" laughed Will.
"I don't believe he'd dare approach a British official with his story,"said I.
"Incredible imbecile!" Fred answered. "He has the gall of a brassmonkey."
"And magnetism--loads of it," Will added. "He'd make the Pope playthree-card monte."
"To say nothing," continued Fred, "of the necessity of not letting thegovernment know we're here! Rather than turn him loose, I'd march himinto Kisumu and hand him over. But, as Will says wisely, ourproconsuls would believe him, and put us under bonds for outraging adistinguished foreigner."
"Well, then," said I, "what the devil shall we do with him? Offersomething constructive, you two solons!"
"Have the four men we borrowed from the island bolted home yet?"wondered Will.
"They hadn't this evening," I answered. "I don't believe they'llventure home until we stop feeding them. They were hungry on theirisland. Our shortest commons then seemed affluence. Now they're inheaven!"
"Their canoes must be where they left them in the papyrus."
"Sure. Who'd steal a canoe?"
"Whoever could find them," Fred answered. "But they're skilfullyhidden. Why don't we put Schillingschen and his ten pet blacks intothose canoes, with a little food and no rifles--and show them the wayto German East?"
"Because," said I, "they wouldn't go. They'd turn around and paddlefor Kisumu, to file complaint against us."
"Don't you suppose," suggested Will, "that Schillingschen's own men 'udinsist on going home? Out on the water, ten to one, without guns ortoo much food, they wouldn't have the same fear of him they hadformerly."
"That chance is too broad and long and deep," said Fred. "Altogethertoo bulky to be taken. Let's sleep on it. This cigar's done, and I'mdrowsy. Are you quite sure Schillingschen's hands are fast behind him?Then good night, all!"
The problem looked no easier next morning, with Schillingschenrecovered sufficiently to be hungry and sit up. There was a look inhis eye of smoldering courage and assurance that did not bode well forus, and when we untwisted the iron wire from his wrists to let him washhimself and eat he looked about him with a sort of quick-fire cunningthat belied his story of headache.
He was much too astute a customer to be judged superficially. Iwhispered to Fred not to shackle him again too soon, and sat near andwatched him, close enough for real safety, yet not so close that hemight not venture to try tricks. He said nothing whatever, but Inoticed that his eye, after roving around the tent, kept returningagain and again to a chop-box that stood near the foot of the bed.
Now I had unpacked that chop-box and repacked it the previous night. Iknew everything it contained--exactly how many cans of plum pudding.It was the box I had rested my feet on. I felt perfectly sure he knewas well as I what the box contained, and to suppose he would sit thereplanning to recover canned food, however dainty, was ridiculous.
Wherefore it was a safe conclusion he was trying to deceive me as tohis real intention. I put my foot on the box again, and he frowned, asmuch as to say I had forestalled his only hope. Pretending to watchthe box and him, I examined every detail of the tent, particularly thatside of it opposite the box, away from where it seemed he wanted me tolook.
The human eye is a highly imperfect piece of mechanism and the humanbrain is mostly grayish slush. It was minutes before I detected theedge of his diary, sticking out from the pocket of Fred's shooting coatthat itself protruded from under the folded blanket on which Fred hadslept. It was nearer to Schillingschen than to me. After watching himfor about fifteen minutes, during which he made a great fuss about hisheadache, I was quite sure it was the diary that interested him.
I stooped and extracted it from the coat pocket. The grimace he madewas certainly not due to headache.
"Fred!" I called out, and he and Will came striding in together.
"That diary's the key," I said. "It's important. It h
olds hissecrets!"
Will was swift to put that to the test.
"What will you offer?" he asked Schillingschen. "We want you to goback direct to German East. Will you go, if we give you back yourdiary?"
Schillingschen blundered into the trap like a buffalo in strangesurroundings.
"Ja wohl!" he answered. "Give me that, and yon shall never see meagain!"
At that Fred threw himself full length on his blanket and took one ofSchillingschen's cigars.
"Of course," he said, "you would give anything for leave to take thosewords back! You needn't try to hide the wince--we fully appreciate thesituation! What do you say, you fellows? How about last night's idea?Who mooted it? Shall we send him back by canoe to German East, with aguarantee that if he doesn't go we'll hand over diary and him to ourgovernment?"
"Better send the book to the commissioner at Nairobi, or Mombasa, orwherever he is," suggested Will. "Then if the 'prof' here doesn't geta swift move on he's liable to be overtaken by the cops, I should say."
"Let's make no promises," said I. "I vote we simply give him time toget away."
At that the Germain saw the weak side of our case in a flash.
"If you dared give that diary to your government," he growled, "youwould do so without bargaining with me! Why do you propose to let mego? Out of love for me? No! But because you dare not appeal to yourgovernment! Give me that diary, and I will go at once to German East,not otherwise! It is only a diary," he added. "Nothingimportant--merely my private jottings and memoranda."
Fred turned toward me so that Schillingschen could not see his face.
"Are you willing to start for Kisumu at once with that book?" he asked,and I nodded. He winked at me so violently that I could not trustmyself to answer aloud and keep a straight face.
"Very well,"' he said. "Suppose you start with it to-morrow morning.At the end of a week well turn the professor home to follow his ownnose!"
Schillingschen shrugged his shoulders and refused to be drawn intofurther argument. We gave him a good meal from his own provisions, andthen once more made his hands fast with wire behind him and left him tosleep off his rage if he cared to in a corner of the tent.
Later that morning we sent for the Baganda--gave him a view ofSchillingschen trussed and helpless--and questioned him about the manhe boasted he knew, who could tell us what Schillingschen was after.He was so full of fear by that time that he held back nothing.
He assured us the German was after buried ivory. There was a man, whohad promised to meet Schillingschen, who knew where to find the ivoryand would lead the way to it. He did not know names or places--knewonly that the man would be found waiting at a certain place, and wasnot white.
"How did you get that information?" Fred demanded.
"By listening."
"When? Where?"
"At night, months ago, in Nairobi, outside the professor's tent. I layunder the fly among the loads and listened. The man came in the dark,and went in the dark. I did not see him. I did not hear him called byname. He must have been an old man. Speaking Kiswahili, he admittedhe knew where the ivory is. He said he saw it buried, and that healone survives of all men who buried it. He promised to lead theprofessor to the place on condition that the Germans shall release hisbrother, and his brother's wife, and two sons whom they keep in prisonon a life-sentence. The professor agreed, but said, 'Wait! There arefirst those people who also think they know the secret. Perhaps theydo! Wait until after I have dealt with them. Then you shall take meto the place! After that your criminal relations shall be pardoned!Here is money. Go and wait for me at the place we spoke of when wetalked before.'"
We each cross-examined him in turn, but could not make him change hisstory in any essential. He merely exaggerated the parts that heguessed might please us, and begged to be allowed to run beforeSchillingschen could break loose and get after him.
By noontime, when we gave him his second meal, Schillingschen had madeup his own mind that his case was desperate and called for heroicremedy.
"All right," he growled. "I need that diary. Hand it to me and I'lltell you how to find what you're after!"
"You mean about the man who's to meet you?" suggested Fred blandly.
Schillingschen started as if shot.
"One of your men is an eavesdropper," Fred assured him with a cheerfulnod. "That plug has been pulled already, Professor!"
"Let's play the cards face up!" Will interrupted impatiently. "Listen,Schillingschen. You're an all-in scoundrel. You're a spy. You're abloody murderer of women and defenseless natives. If we could provethat we wouldn't argue with you. We know you burned that dhow with thewomen in it, but we've got no evidence, that's all. We know the Germangovernment wants that ivory, and we know why. We also want it. Ouronly reason for secrecy is that we hope for better terms from theBritish government. We've nothing to fear, except possible financialloss. If you prefer to come with us to Kisumu and have the wholematter out in court, all you need do is just say so. On the otherhand, if you want to get out of this country before your diary canreach the hands of the British High Commissioner--you'd just betterslide, that's all!"
"You've only until dawn to think it over," remarked Fred. "You poorboob!" continued Will. "You imagine we're criminals because you're oneyourself! The difference between your offer and ours is that you'rebluffing and we know it, whereas we're not bluffing by as much as ahair, and the quicker you see that the better for you!"
"Oh, rats! Let's take him in with us to Kisumu!" said I, and at thatProfessor Schillingschen capitulated.
"Very well," he said. "Kurtz und gut. I will leave the country. Permitme to take only food enough, and my porters, and one gun!"
"No guns!" said Fred promptly.
Schillingschen sighed resignedly, and we went out of the tent to talkover ways and means. In spite of our recent experience of Germany'scolonial government we were still so ignorant of the workings of themens germanica that we took his surrender at face value.
The problem of getting him down to the lake shore safely was none toosimple. I was soft hearted and headed enough to propose that we shouldloose his hands, now that he had surrendered, and permit him reasonableliberty. Will--least inclined of all of us to cruelty--was disposed toagree with me. We might have overborne Fred's objections if Coutlassand Brown, returning from walking off their overnight debauch together,had not shouted and beckoned us in a mysterious sort of way, as if somenew discovery puzzled them.
We walked about a hundred and fifty yards to where they stood by a rowof low ant-hills. Neither of them was in a sociable frame of mind. Itwas obvious from the moment we could see their faces clearly that theyhad not called us to enjoy a joke. They stood like two dumb bird-dogs,pointing, and we had to come about abreast of them before we knew whywe were summoned.
There lay five clean-picked skeletons, one on each ant-hill. One was abig bird's; one looked like a dog's; the third was a snake's; thefourth a young antelope's; and the fifth was certainly that of ayellow village cur, for some of the hairs from the tip of its tail wereremaining, not yet borne off by the ants.
The skeletons lay as if the creatures had died writhing. There werepegs driven into the earth that had evidently held them in position bythe sinews. Most peculiar circumstance of all, there was a camp-chairstanding very near by, with its feet deep in the red earth, as if avery heavy man had sat in it.
I went back to the camp and told Kazimoto to bring one of theprofessor's men. Kazimoto had to do the talking, for we did not knowthe man's language, nor he ours.
Yes, the professor always did that to animals. He liked to sit andwatch them and keep the kites away. He said it was white man'sknowledge (science?). Yes, the animals were pegged out alive on theant-hills, and the professor would sit with his watch in his hand,counting the minutes until they ceased from writhing. It was part ofthe duty of the ten to catch animals and bring them alive to him incamp for that purpose. No,
they did not know why he did it, exceptthat it was white man's knowledge. No, natives did not do that way,except now and then to their enemies. The professor always madethreats he would do so to them if they ran away from him, or disobeyed,or misbehaved. Certainly they believed him! Why should they notbelieve him? Did not Germans always keep their word when they talkedof punishment?
We decided after that to let Schillingschen lie bound, whether or notthe iron wire cut his wrists. We did not trouble to go back to inquirewhether he needed drink, but let him wait for that until supper-time.The remainder of that afternoon we spent discussing who should have thedisagreeable and not too easy task of taking the professor to the lakeand sending him on his way. We sat with our backs against a rock, withthe firearms beside us and a good view of all the countryside, verymuch puzzled as to whether to leave Coutlass behind in camp (with Brownand the whisky) or send him (with or without Brown) and one or two ofus on the errand. He was a dangerous ally in either case.
Evening fell, and the good smell of supper came along the wind to findus still undecided. We returned to the tent thinking that perhapssomething Schillingschen himself might say would help us to decide oneway or the other.
"Better see if the brute wants a drink," said Fred, and I went in aheadto offer him water.
He was gone! Clean gone, without a trace, or a hint as to how hemanaged it! I called the others, and we hunted. The sides of the tentwere pegged down tight all around. The front, it is true, was wideopen, but we had sat in full view of it and not so much as a rat couldhave crept out without our seeing. There were no signs of burrowing.He was not under the bed, or behind the boxes, or between the sides ofthe tent and the fly. The only cover for more than a hundred yards wasthe shallow depression along which we had come to the capture of thecamp, and that was the way he must have taken. But that, too, had beenpractically in full view of us all the time.
We counted heads and called the roll. Coutlass was close by. It didnot look as if he had played traitor this time. Brown was sleeping offhis headache in the shade. Kazimoto and all the boys were accountedfor. The prisoners were safe. No donkeys were missing--nofirearms--and no loads. The earth had simply opened up and swallowedSchillingschen, and that was all about it!
He had not made off with his pocket diary. Fred had that. There andthen we packed it in an empty biscuit tin and buried it under a rock,Will and I keeping watch while Fred did the digging and covering up.It was too likely that Schillingschen would come back in the night andtry to steal it for any of us to care about keeping it on his person.
It was too late to look far and wide for him that evening. A huntersuch as he could have lain unseen in the dark with us almost steppingon him. Gone was all appetite for supper! We nibbled, and swore, andsmoked--locked up the whisky--defied either Brown or Coutlass to try tobreak the boxes open--and arranged to take turns on sentry-go all thatnight, Will, Fred, and I--declining very pointedly offers by the othertwo to have their part in keeping watch. In spite of lack of evidencewe suspected Coutlass; and we knew no particular reason for havingconfidence in Brown.