Samba: A Story of the Rubber Slaves of the Congo

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  The Chicotte

  A small palm, spared for the sake of its welcome shade when the rest ofthe ground was cleared, sheltered Monsieur Elbel's tent from thefiercest rays of the tropical sun, In the tent Monsieur Elbel, smokinga bad Belgian cigar, his camp chair tilted back to a perilous angle,his feet on a small rickety table, read and re-read with a smile ofsatisfaction a short official communication that had just reached himfrom Brussels. Owing to the retirement of the Company's principalagent, and in recognition of Monsieur Elbel's energy in doubling theconsignment of rubber from his district during the past year, theComite had been pleased to appoint Monsieur Elbel to be administrativechief of the Maranga Concession. At the same time the Comite hopedthat Monsieur Elbel would see his way to deal promptly and effectivelywith the reported outbreak at Ilola, without incurring undue expense,and that the American who had been giving trouble, and whose patent wasnow revoked (with the concurrence of the State) would be persuaded ofthe necessity of leaving the country.

  Monsieur Elbel was gratified by the news of his promotion; although itwas his due by all the standards of conduct set up for the guidance ofofficials, whether State or Trust, charged with the exploitation ofCongoland. Under no officer had the development of King Leopold'sAfrican dominions gone more blithely forward than under Monsieur Elbel.Where he and his men went they left a wilderness behind them; but theamount of rubber they collected was most gratifying; and if Marangastock stood high it was largely through their exertions. True, intwenty years there would be no people left in Maranga, even if therewere rubber to collect. But after all that was not Monsieur Elbel'sconcern: in twenty years he would not be on the Congo; those who cameafter him must find their own collectors. He and the King took shortviews: sufficient unto the day--they were both men of business. Yes,as a man of affairs Guillaume Elbel was hard to beat. It was no wonderthat the Comite had promoted him to the vacant post; if he had beenpassed by, where would be the inducement to zeal, to loyal faithfulservice? Where indeed?

  In the circumstances Monsieur Elbel was in good humour, a relaxation herarely allowed himself. He drank the remains of his absinthe, tiltedhis chair back to the critical angle, and blowing a cloud of smokeskywards saw in the curling eddies visions of snug directorates inBrussels. Why not? He flattered himself there were none who knew moreabout the Congo than he; he could estimate to a few francs thepossibilities of any district as expressed in rubber; and, what ismore, he knew how to get it. With him the people always lasted as longas the rubber. There was no waste; he plumed himself on the point._He_ had never burnt a village before the rubber was exhausted,whatever might be said of other agents. For after all, his businesswas to promote commerce--that is, collect rubber--not mere destruction.And if he did not know his business there was nobody who could teachhim. Yes--his Majesty had an eye to men of his stamp. Adirectorate--a few directorates--a snug place at Court--who knows? ...

  Monsieur Elbel again glanced at the official letter; and again smiledand blew a ring artistically true. Then his eye caught the word"expense," and his expression changed. This Ilola difficulty would notonly reduce his rubber consignments; it would mean a considerableoutlay--how much he did not like to think. And then there was thecolumn of State troops now on its way. No doubt the Concession wouldhave to pay for that, too. Peste! if only he could finish thisbusiness before Van Vorst came up! He did not desire the presence ofVan Vorst or any other State officer, if it could be avoided. Forthere was gold in the stream, without a doubt; and those Stateofficials were greedy rascals; they were capable of edging himout--they had no scruples--his moral claim would go for nothing,absolutely. Yes, the fort must be captured at once before Van Vorstcame up. If only he could tap the water supply it would be easyenough. It could be done; the little fool had let out so much; buthow?--that was what he had to find out, and his name was not Elbel ifhe couldn't do it.

  He rose and went to the door of the tent. A few yards away, securelytied to the trunk of the slender palm, was a negro boy. Monsieur Elbellooked at him critically as if measuring his strength. Last night,although threatened with the chicotte, the boy had refused to speak.Only once, when Elbel had offered him freedom and rewards if he wouldpoint out the source of the water in the camp above, did he open hislips, saying fiercely: "I will never tell you!"--betraying to thequestioner that he had some knowledge of the secret. Now he had hadtwelve hours of hunger and thirst to help him to a more reasonableframe of mind. All night the cords had been eating into his wrists andankles; he was weak from want of food, and consumed with an intolerablethirst. He stood there in the blazing sun, a listless, pitiablefigure, held upright only by the thongs that bound his wrists; andMonsieur Elbel as he looked at him, felt not a little irritated. Itwas absurd that he should be inconvenienced; nay, more, that thedevelopment of the Concession should be delayed, and expenseincurred--avoidable, unnecessary expense--expense without any return inrubber--all because this slip of a boy refused to tell what he knew.

  Elbel beckoned to his servant and interpreter, standing close by,attentive and expectant.

  "Tell him," he said, "that I will give him one more chance. If he willnot speak he shall be thrashed with the chicotte until he does."

  The man roughly grasped the boy by the shoulders and translated hismaster's words. The captive slowly shook his head.

  "Fetch the chicotte," said Elbel sharply. "We'll see what that willdo."

  The man entered the tent, where the chicotte invariably lay ready tohand; and when he emerged the space in front of Elbel's quarters wasfilling with Askari and their followers flocking like vultures to thefeast. Samba, the son of Mboyo, chief of Banonga, was to be whipped.Boloko had caught him last night: he was a clever man, Boloko. AndSamba knew where the Inglesa got the water for his camp, the secret wasto be cut from him by the chicotte. That was good; it would be a sightto see.

  No time was lost. Elbel signed to the man as he approached, andstepping back left him a clear space to swing the whip. The negroprided himself upon his skill; as Elbel's servant, indeed, he had moreopportunities of perfecting himself with this typical instrument ofCongo government than falls to most. He could deliver a stroke withgreat delicacy, raising only a long red weal upon the skin, or if thecase called for real severity could cut the offender's flesh from hisbody almost as neatly as with a knife.

  In this case his master desired information; it was not a mere questionof punishing a sullen defaulter. He would begin gently lest theprisoner should lose the power of speech and shame the executionerbefore his master and the crowd.

  A slight convulsive shiver shook the boy's frame as the whip fell, buthe clenched his teeth and no sound escaped him. The man waited for amoment.

  "Will you tell?"

  There was no answer.

  Again the whip rose and fell, this time with a more vicious sound; itwas answered by a low groan; but still to the same question there wasno reply.

  By slow degrees the executioner increased the vigour of his stroke.The Askari applauded, and surely he was meriting praise from hismaster, for after many strokes the prisoner was quite conscious, as hispallid face and staring eyes and clenched teeth clearly showed. Andbesides, did he not writhe and groan with every blow?

  But there is no reckoning with the vagaries of the white man. Theculprit's obstinate silence irritated Monsieur Elbel more and more asthe punishment went on. It was intolerable that he should be defied inthis way. It was a bad example to the natives. Where would the whiteman's authority be if this kind of thing were permitted? They wouldlose all respect: the collection of rubber would become a farce.Suddenly he blazed out in anger, snatched the whip from the hands ofhis servant, and, whirling it round his head, brought it down with allhis force on the bruised and bleeding form. It cut a deep purple gashin the boy's back; but Monsieur Elbel's wrath had come too late; beforethe lash fell Samba had fainted.

  Elbel hesitated for a moment; then, seeing that further punis
hmentwould be a mere waste of time, he gave a curt order. They cut Samba'scords and carried him away. He was to be whipped again to-morrow.

  That afternoon Lepoko came to Jack with a broad grin on his face.

  "Mbota come back, sah."

  "That's the scout of Massa Barney's who was captured, isn't it?"

  "Yussah! He come back, sah. Oh! it make me laugh plenty much.Elobela send Mbota back; he say, 'You go back, cut off Lokolobolo himhead. Me gib you twenty, fousand, plenty, plenty brass rods!' Mbotasay, 'All same, massa. Anyfing what massa like. Me get plenty menwhat help.' Den Mbota come back; he laugh, sah; Elobela plenty bigfool fink him lib for hurt Lokolobolo."

  "Bring Mbota to me at once."

  When the man came, Jack got out of him a more lucid story than Lepokohad given. Elbel had promised freedom and large rewards if he wouldstir up a revolt against Jack, or assassinate him. The negro hadreadily promised, with no intention but to reveal the whole scheme tohis beloved Lokolobolo.

  Jack was still talking to the man when he heard loud cries. Runningout of his hut, he found Barney clutching by the arm a strange negro,thronged about by a shouting crowd of the men of Ilombekabasi.

  "Who is he?"

  "'Tis wan uv Elbel's men, sorr. Lianza caught him in the forest, andbrought him in. The men are simply mad to get at him, sorr, especiallysince they've heard uv what Elbel said to Mbota."

  "Leave him to me. I will deal with him."

  The men slowly dispersed. Jack took the trembling negro to his hut andquestioned him.

  "Do you know anything of Samba, the son of Mboyo and nephew of Boloko,one of your master's men?"

  Yes, he knew.--Was there a man in Elobela's camp who did not know?--whohad not exulted when the news spread that Samba, the best ofLokolobolo's scouts, had been captured and was to pay the penalty?Surely not a man was absent when Samba suffered the torture. Had notmany of them tried in vain to discover the secret which Samba would beforced to betray?

  The scout described to Jack the whole pitiful scene, in the glowinglanguage, with the telling dramatic gestures, which the negro has atcommand when he feels that his audience is interested. And while theman told his story Jack went hot and cold by turns--cold with sheerhorror of the scene conjured up by the man's vivid words, hot with agreat wrath, a burning passionate desire to seek instant vengeance uponthe evildoer.

  Bidding Barney keep the negro carefully under guard, he went back tohis hut, at the entrance to which Mr. Arlington had been anxiouslywatching the scene.

  "It is devilish, sir," he burst out. "Elbel not only offers rewardsfor assassinating me, but he uses his brutal whip on a boy, to forcehim to reveal the secret of our water supply. Samba is probablyhalf-dead--he fainted under the lash but would not betray us--bravelittle fellow! Think of the agony he must have suffered! And he isonly one; thousands have suffered in the same way before him, and aresuffering to-day in one part or another of this State. Do you blame menow, sir?"

  "No, I don't blame you. I am deeply sorry for the poor boy. The wholething is an outrage upon human nature, so revolting that any actionthat can be taken against it is fully justified. I have been thinkingover what we said the other day. It is not for me to advise; indeed,my friends at home would open their eyes at the idea of my abettingresistance to authority; but I will give you my opinion. You must holdyour fort. While the banner of revolt is kept flying there is always aprospect of forcing the hand of the officials in the direction ofeffective reform. They have an enormous area to control--a disaffectedarea seething with indignation against bitter wrong. A successfulrevolt will encourage outbreaks elsewhere. If you can only hold out;if you can make yourself strong enough here in this remote corner todefy the authorities, it will be an opportunity of forcing thegovernment to terms--to the granting of elementary rights of justiceand liberty to its own subjects, and the throwing open of thissorely-afflicted country to free intercourse with the outside world."

  "Ah! If only I can do it, sir! But I can only hold the fort now bystriking a blow at Elbel before his reinforcements join him. If theforces unite, they will be strong enough to carry on a strict siege.Our food is giving out; the people have been for some time on halfrations; they don't grumble, but it will have to be quarter rationssoon, and then the end is not far off. We must either surrender ortrek."

  "If you have to trek, it would be better to do so at once, while youhave food to take your party on your way."

  "Yes, we must either do that or thoroughly beat Elbel. That would easethe pressure; the others would think twice before attacking us; theymight even draw off until an overwhelming force could be broughtagainst us. That would give time for us to grow more crops, and foryou to go back to England, sir, and raise your voice against thisatrocious government."

  "I shall certainly do that. But you talk of fighting Elbel; have youthought of the risk?"

  "Till my head aches with thinking. I know that failure will mean ruin.It must be a smashing blow; pin-pricks are no good; and I can't smashhim without taking a large force out of the fort. If we were obligedto retreat we should be followed up; they might rush the fort, andthere would be an end of everything."

  "It is a difficult position. I can't help you; I am not a soldier--itseems to me you ought to be one, Mr. Challoner. I could take no activepart; I should in any case be little good. I feel that you have landedme in a very awkward position," he added with a smile. "But it can'tbe helped now; I can only wait and see you go through with it."

  At the back of Jack's mind there was another consideration which he didnot mention. He could not have said how far he allowed it to count.It was the bare chance of rescuing Samba--if Samba was still alive. Ifit had been put to him, he would probably not have admitted it. Thegood of the community could not be jeopardized by any action on behalfof an individual, whatever his claim; the circumstances were toocritical. But that the fate of Samba was an additional argument infavour of the course he was on other grounds inclined to adopt therecan be no doubt.

  Next day the urgency of the situation was brought home to him. Twofires were seen at the appointed spot; Makoko had done his work. Fiveor six hours later, just after nightfall, Makoko himself came in. Hereported that one white man with twenty soldiers in two canoes, withmany paddlers, had started up river in advance of the bulk of theforce, which had now reached camp at the head of the rapids. Jackguessed that the white man was the officer in command, probably theCaptain Van Vorst of whom Elbel had spoken, coming ahead to view theposition and select an encampment for his followers.

  About noon on the next day there was a great sound of jubilation fromthe camp below. Van Vorst, if it was he, had arrived. He must havetravelled night and day, the river route being so much longer than theforest one that otherwise he could hardly have reached the camp inanother twelve hours. But his paddlers were no doubt pressed men fromthe riverine villages, costing nothing and having no rights, and aCongo State commandant in a hurry would not hesitate to drive them.

  In the afternoon a negro bearing a white flag was seen approaching thefort from the south. He evidently expected to be admitted by the holein the wall. But at Jack's bidding Lianza of the brazen throat calledto him to come round to the gate on the north; it was well to observedue order and ceremony.

  The man brought a note signed "Van Vorst," demanding the instantsurrender of the fort. In reply Jack wrote asking for the assurancethat his people, having acted throughout in self defence against theillegalities of the Societe Cosmopolite, should be guaranteed libertyto depart, and immunity except against the regular legal process of thecourts. In half an hour the messenger returned with a curt summons tounconditional surrender. Jack sent back a polite refusal, feeling thathe had now burnt his boats.

  Shortly afterwards he saw a party of three white men and about twentyState soldiers, all armed with rifles, making a tour round theposition, keeping carefully under cover. Through his field-glass Jackrecognized Elbel, one of his subordinates
, and one of the officers hehad seen on the steamer. Elbel pointed this way and that withoutstretched hand, and appeared to be talking with some excitement.Occasionally they came within easy range of the fort, and Barney beggedJack to let the men fire upon them; but Jack resolutely stuck to hisdetermination to refrain from provocation.

  The party by and by reached a position above the fort, near the spotwhence the abortive barrel-rolling had been started. From this place asmall area of the fort enclosure was open to the view of the enemy.All at once Jack saw the strange officer take a rifle from one of thesoldiers and raise it to his shoulder. Jack instantly ordered his men,who were crowding the wall, to drop down out of sight. The officerfired: there was a moment's silence; then Jack heard a great yell ofrage from the men behind him. Turning, he saw an old woman lyinghuddled in the centre of the enclosure. Two calabashes lay near; shehad been crossing the exposed portion of the area to fetch water fromthe tank when Van Vorst's bullet struck her. A shout of delight fromthe negro soldiers up the hill acclaimed the successful shot of theirofficer; the old woman was quite dead.

  Jack went hot with rage. And Mr. Arlington, who had witnessed theofficer's action, was stirred out of his usual philosophic calm.

  "That is not an act of warfare, Mr. Challoner, but of sheersavagery--the act of a callous marksman showing off. It invitesreprisal."

  "You see how the State treats its subjects, Mr. Arlington. They havetaken cover; it's too late to fire now. But it settles the matter forme. The State has fired the first shot and killed a non-combatant. Ishall do my best this very night to deal the enemy a staggering blow."