Samba: A Story of the Rubber Slaves of the Congo

  CHAPTER XXIV

  A Solemn Charge

  The party set off. They marched all day, with brief intervals for foodand rest. Jack was only allowed to speak to his uncle during thesepauses. The sick man lay inert, with closed eyes, protected from theheat by a light covering of grass, which his bearers made and fixedabove his litter. Jack watched him anxiously. He seemed no worse whenthey arrived at the river just before sunset. Mr. Martindale hadbrought up four canoes; two of these had already been appropriated byElbel and conveyed up the river; the other two remained. They passedthe night on the canoes, and in the small hours, when the natives wereasleep, Mr. Martindale insisted on continuing the story broken off thenight before.

  "Better now, dear boy," he said, when Jack implored him to wait untilhe was stronger. "I shall never see Boma; Elbel knows that. He knowsthat in this climate a sick man cannot survive a journey of over athousand miles. I want you to understand clearly before I go whatthese officials are doing. They call it the Free State!--free! No oneis free but the officials! The natives, poor wretches! are not free.Never, when slavery was an institution, were there slaves in suchabject misery as these slaves of the Congo. Why, they made a greatto-do about slavery in my country fifty years ago, and some of thepictures in Uncle Tom's Cabin were lurid enough. But the Americanslave's life was Paradise compared with this hell upon earth. Trade onthe Congo was to be free. Is there any such freedom? Look at my case.They give me a patent to work minerals; they let me make my prospectingtrip; then when I have located the gold and ordered my machinery theyrevoke my patent. I make the loaf, they eat it. Oh! it was allplanned from the beginning. We have been fooled right through, Jack."

  "But what of their courts, Uncle? Surely there is some redress forinjustice."

  "Their courts! They're all of a piece, Jack. The State grants aconcession to a trading company. Half the time the State _is_ thetrading company; it takes up the larger portion of the shares. TheCongo Free State is nothing but a big commercial speculation, and thecourts dare not do anything that conflicts with its interests. Mencome here, Belgians, Germans, Italians, good fellows some, honest,well-meaning; but they haven't been here long before they have to swimwith the current, or throw up their careers. One poor fellow, adistrict judge, ventured to protest against an illegal sentence passedby a court-martial; he was broken, and hounded out of the country. Ina sense he was lucky, for it is easier for such a man to get into thiscountry than to get out of it--alive! A man who does justice and lovesrighteousness has no place in the Congo Free State.

  "You see now why they let me go. They let me make what arrangements Ipleased--engage a large party, buy a large quantity of stores; wellknowing that at any moment of my journey they could arrest me andplunder my goods. And they knew of your doings up here, be sure ofthat. They intended to let me get into the neighbourhood of your fortand use me to decoy you out. They've done it. Oh! it was all plannedin Boma. Neither you nor I will ever reach Boma if Elbel and theofficials have their way. Elbel's suggestion of delaying so that wecould get Barney to surrender the fort was all a part of the trick; itwould make no difference to our treatment, and it would be thedeath-warrant of those poor negroes. Jack, I approve of all that youhave done--approve with all my heart. I am proud of you, dear boy.What does it matter that I've lost my money, and my gold mine, and verylikely my life too! I am thankful to Almighty God that we came to thiscountry, glad that He has put it into our power to do some little good.I wouldn't undo any of it; I am proud that one of my blood has beencalled to this good work. Jack, Providence has made us responsible forthe poor negroes who have trusted their lives to us. Do you remember Isaid at Banonga that I wasn't a philanthropist and wasn't set onstarting a crusade? I spoke lightly, my boy. I would say now that ifGod spared my life I would spend all my strength and all my energy in anobler work than ever mediaeval crusader undertook. I shall not live todo it; but I leave it to you. Were this my last breath I would say,help the negroes of the Congo, fight the corrupt Government thatenriches itself on their blood; go to the fountain-head and expose thehypocrisy of King Leopold."

  "He may not know of it, Uncle. So far away he cannot check and controlall the actions of his agents."

  "Not know of it! How can he help knowing of it? Are not these thingshappening every day? And it is his business to know of it. Suppose Ihad a factory in the United States, and it was proved that while I wascoining millions my hands were dying of overwork, or of insanitarybuildings, or getting wages insufficient to keep them decently clothedand fed; wouldn't there be an outcry? Wouldn't the law step in, or ifthe law failed, public opinion? Where does Leopold get his dollarsfrom? Who pays for the estates he is buying, the palace he isbuilding, the fine public works he is presenting to Belgium? It isthese poor black people. He is draining the life-blood out of thecountry he vowed before Almighty God to rule justly and administerwisely for the good of the people; and the cries and groans of thesenegroes, men like himself, are rising to Heaven, terrible witnesses ofhis broken vows, his callousness, his selfish apathy. Oh! I grant himgood intentions to begin with. Twenty years ago he did not foresee allthis; no man is a villain all at once! But it might have beenforeseen. He was king of a few hundred miles of country; with a strokeof the pen he became sovereign of a State as big as Europe; and if aman has the passion for getting, unlimited opportunities of doing sowill bring him to any villainy unless he has the grace of God in him."

  Jack was deeply moved by his uncle's earnestness. At the same time hewas concerned to see the exhaustion that followed his passionatespeech. He gave him a little wine, imploring him to spare himself.

  "Don't trouble, dear boy," said Mr. Martindale with a smile. "The fireis burning out; what does it matter if it burns a little more quickly?But I won't distress you; you will think over my words when I am gone."

  In the morning the river journey was begun. It continued for severaldays, until with their arrival at the falls progress by water wasinterrupted, and a long portage had to be made.

  It was just at this point that they met a party of Askari marching inthe other direction. As soon as they came in sight the leader ofJack's escort cried--

  "O etswa?"[1]

  "O!" replied the leader of the approaching band.

  "Where are you going?"

  "To the camp of Elobela."

  "What have you got in those bundles?"

  "Cartridges for Elobela's guns."

  "Bolotsi O! He will be glad of them. He has very few left."

  "Has he killed many people?"

  "No. But Lokolobolo captured nearly all his cartridges."

  "Mongo! Who is Lokolobolo?"

  "Here he is! An Inglesa who has built a fort and fights Elobela. Butwe have got him at last, and he goes with an old Inglesa to Boma. Oh!he will fight no more."

  "O kend'o?"

  "O!"

  During the river journey Mr. Martindale had grown steadily weaker. Hefought hard against his illness; he had a new motive for desiring life;and Jack, observing his occasional rallies, hoped still that he wouldpull through. But he was so weak when lifted from the canoe that hefainted, and Jack feared that he would not survive the day. He ralliedagain, and once more Jack had a gleam of hope.

  The horrors of that overland march will haunt Jack's memory till hedies. For some time the Askari had been ill-using the carriers. Thegreater part of the stores which Mr. Martindale had taken up the riverhad been appropriated by Elbel, and the food left in the canoes was notsufficient for full meals for the whole party. It was the carriers whowent short. They had to bear the burdens, to make frequent journeys toand fro up the steep river banks, while the Askari looked on and hadthe best of the food. When the portage was begun, one of the canoeswas added to their load. The other was left hidden in the bush to befetched later. Weak from lack of proper nourishment, they could go butslowly, and Jack's blood boiled as he saw them quiver, heard themshriek, under the merciless chicotte. Be
fore the first day was ended,two of the men fell, worn out with hunger and fatigue. Jack heardshots behind him, and saw that the wretched men had been put out oftheir misery. On the second day another man succumbed; what littlelife was left in him was beaten out with the clubbed rifles of theAskari. Three men ran away during the night, preferring the perils ofthe forest to the certain fate that awaited them at the hands of theirfellow-men. Only two carriers were now left, and since these wereuseless they were shot in cold blood. Jack's heart was like a stonewithin him. These atrocities recalled the worst horrors of the oldArab slave-raiding days; and he was unable to lift a hand to opposethem. If he had been the only white man with the party he felt that hewould have risked anything in an effort to save the poor wretches; butwhile his uncle still lived he could do nothing that might involve hisown death.

  The bearers being all gone, the Askari had to take turns themselves incarrying the canoe, the remainder of their provisions, and Mr.Martindale's litter. This necessity did not improve their temper ortheir manners, and the litter-bearers went so carelessly over the roughground that Jack was constrained to protest. He implored, hethreatened, feeling that the only chance for his uncle was to make morefrequent halts; the fatigue of constant travelling would certainly killhim. But the Askari roughly replied that they had orders to continuetheir journey without delay, and the march was resumed. After hisprotest Jack was forced to walk at a distance from the litter, and evenwhen the caravan halted for food he was not allowed to attend hisuncle. Sick at heart he plodded on, torn by his anxieties, yet stillnourishing a hope that when they arrived at a station where a doctormight be found, and whence the journey would be continued by steamer,all might yet be well.

  But one evening, when the halt was made, he heard his uncle faintlycalling. The sound of his voice struck a chill through him. Indesperation, snatching a rifle from the guard next him, he threatenedto shoot any one who tried to keep him from the dying man.

  "It's all up with me, old boy," said Mr. Martindale feebly, when Jackknelt by his litter. "Elbel is having his way. I shan't see anothermorning."

  Jack gripped his hands; they were chill and clammy. A lump came intohis throat; he could not speak the yearning affection that filled hisheart.

  "Bend down, Jack; I'm afraid I cannot make you hear.Remember--remember what I have said; it is my bequest to you--the causeof the Congo natives. Do what you can for them. Fight! It is calledthe Free State; fight to make it free. I cannot see the future; all isdark; I dread what may await you in Boma. But buck up, dear fellow.Barney--remember him. Go to the British consul; tell him all. Yourpeople have generous sympathies; wake them up; wake them up! If theyare roused, all this wrong will come to an end."

  "I will do all I can, Uncle," murmured Jack.

  "Don't mourn overlong for me. I've had a good time. And this year thebest of all. I wouldn't lose it, Jack. Tell my friends I'm not sorry;I'm glad, glad to have seen with my own eyes something that's worthdoing. And I have faith in the future--in my fellow-men, in God. Whatis it about wicked doers? 'They encourage themselves in mischief, andcommune how they may lay snares; they imagine wickedness and practiseit. But God shall suddenly shoot at them with a swift arrow; yea,their own tongues shall make them fall.' How does it go on? I cannotremember. 'The righteous shall rejoice----.' Jack, are you there?"

  "Yes, Uncle, I am here," replied Jack, tightening his clasp.

  "Is it the fifteenth Psalm? 'He that walketh uprightly----' I cannotremember, Jack.--Is that boy Samba better? Poor little chap! Nofather and mother!--Barnard said there was gold; why can't he findit?--No, that's not a nugget, that's---- Only a dog, eh? I'm kind o'set on dogs...."

  And so he rambled on, muttering incoherently in his delirium; and Jackdid not stir, but remained cramped while the slow hours crawled on, andnocturnal insects hummed, and frogs croaked, and the leaves faintlyrustled above him.

  Then, as the dawn was creeping up the sky, Mr. Martindale opened hiseyes. They rested on Jack's pale drawn face, and the dying man smiled.

  "Buck up!" he whispered. "Remember! 'Though I walk through the valleyof the shadow....'"

  And so he died.

  [1] Are you awake? (the morning greeting)