CHAPTER XXIII
THE SLACKENING OF RESTRAINT
A half moon had just sailed up above the shoulder of a hill, and itspale light streamed into the veranda of the little mission house whichstood in a rift of the great scarp where the high inland plateaubreaks down to the levels of the sun-scorched littoral. The barrenhillslopes round about it were streaked with belts of gleaming sand,and above them scrubby forests, destitute of anything that man orbeast could eat, rolled back to the vast marshes of the westernwatershed, but the bottom of the deep valley was green and fertile asa garden. It had, however, only been made so by patient labor, foreven in the tropics there is no escape from the primeval ban. It is bysomebody's tense effort that man is provided with his daily bread, andwhere he labors least he lives most like the animals, for natureunsubdued is very rarely bountiful. She sends thorns and creepers tochoke the young plantations, and the forest invades the clearing whenthe planter stays his hand. But in Western Africa the white man seesthat the negro fights the ceaseless battle for him. It is, in hisopinion, what the black man was made for, and those who know by whatmethods he obtains and controls his dusky laborers in certain tractsof the dark land wonder now and then why such things are permittedand if there will never be a reckoning. That is, however, only oneaspect of a very old question, and it is admittedly difficult to be anoptimist in Africa.
Still, there was, for the time being, at least, quietness and goodwill in that lonely rift among the hills, and Nares, sitting on themission house veranda in the moonlight, felt its beneficent influence,though he was suffering from that most exasperating thing the pricklyheat, which had, as it frequently does, followed a slight attack offever. Two patient men from his own country sat with him, and it wasclear that their toil had not been in vain. He could see thesprinkling of white blossom on the trees beneath him that bore greenlimes, and beyond these were rows of mangoes, coffee plants, and sweetpotato vines, but the huts of the dusky converts were silent andhidden among the leaves. There was no sound but the soft murmur ofrunning water. A deep serenity brooded over it all.
"A garden!" he said. "In this country one could call it a garden ofthe Lord."
The elder of his two companions smiled, for he had shrewdness as wellas faith.
"Thanks in part, at least, to our mountain wall," he said. "We lieseveral leagues from the only road, and that is not a much frequentedone. There is, most fortunately, little commerce in this strip ofcountry, and the great roads lie as you know far to the south of us.Still, I sometimes wonder how we have been left alone so long, and wehave had our warnings."
"Herrero now and then comes up this way?"
The missionary nodded. "He is the thorn in our side," he said."Domingo, his associate, as of course you know, rambles through theback country. There is no one else to cause us anxiety, but Herrerohas an old grudge against us. There were villages in these valleyswhen he first came here, and he swept them almost clean. We gatheredup the remnant of the people, and now they will not buy his rum fromhim."
"If the news we got with our last supplies is correct he can not bemore than a few days' march away," the younger man broke in. "I havebeen wondering how often he will pass us by. Some day he will comedown on us. It's a sure thing."
Nares straightened himself a trifle. He had for several years bornealmost all a man could bear and live through in that land, and afterhe left Ormsgill had fled inland, proscribed, finding no safetyanywhere until his countrymen at their peril had offered him shelterat the mission. Besides, he had fever and prickly heat, which triesthe meekest white man's patience, and it was New England stock hesprang from. He was a Puritan by birth as well as training, of the oldgrim Calvinistic strain, and his forbears had believed that the swordof the Lord is now and then entrusted to human hands. In that faiththey had faced their king at Naseby, and in later days and anotherland held their own at Bunker Hill, and again crushed the Southernslave-owners' riflemen. It awoke once more deep down in the heart oftheir descendant as he sat on the mission veranda that night.
"What will you do then?" he said. "It sometimes seems to me that wehave borne enough. One could almost wonder if there is anything morethan prudence in our non-resistance. That alone seldom carries onevery far."
A faint sparkle crept into the eyes of the younger man, for there wasalso a capacity for righteous wrath in him, but his elder companionraised a restraining hand.
"What can we do that will not bring down trouble on our followers'heads?" he asked.
Nares had not slept for several nights, and that coming on top of hisother troubles had its effect on him, for he was, after all, veryhuman, and the white man's self-restraint is apt to grow feeble inthat land where his passions usually grow strong. Now and then,indeed, it breaks down altogether suddenly.
"Somebody must suffer for every reform," he said. "It seems that asacrifice is demanded, and the ban is upon us still. Here, at least,the cost of man's progress is the shedding of blood." Then he made alittle forceful gesture. "They are arming in the bush. In anothermonth or two there will be very grim doings at San Roque."
The older man changed the subject abruptly. "You have your own courseto consider. Have you come to a decision yet? I almost think if yousurrendered to a responsible officer the Society has influence enoughto secure your acquittal. After all, there are a few honest men uponthe coast."
Nares looked at him with a curious little smile. "It is possible thatI might escape with my liberty, but not until those who hate us hadblackened my character and flung discredit upon the aims and methodsof the men who sent me here. Is my acquittal worth what it would costyour Society? Would the folks down yonder miss such an opportunity asmy trial would afford them of making us out political intriguers anddestroyers of authority?"
He broke off for a moment, and laughed softly. "Still, they can't verywell have a trial without a prisoner, and I shall wait in the bushuntil Ormsgill overtakes me. I have left word for him here and therewith men who I think will not betray me."
"Why shouldn't you stay here?" asked the younger man.
"And bring the authorities down upon you? You know the cost ofharboring me. Still, I will wait a day or two. Ormsgill must go inlandby the road through the next valley, and if he has escaped the troops,there should be news of him any hour now."
The others said nothing further. They knew those in authority had,perhaps, naturally little love for them, and would make the most ofthe opportunity if it became evident that they had sheltered aproscribed man. After all, they had a duty to their flock and the menwho had sent them out. Nares, who guessed their thoughts, smiled atthem.
"It is all decided," he said. "When Ormsgill comes up I, believing asI do in the straitest teaching of the Geneva fathers, am going intothe interior with him to accomplish the work he has undertaken forthe repose of the soul of the rum trader Lamartine."
Again his companions made no answer. After all, the creeds now andthen grow vague in Africa, or, perhaps, in the anguish of life in thedark land they are purged of their narrowness and amplified. Besidesthis, it was evident that Nares was a trifle off his balance. Therewas silence for the next half hour. One of the men had toiled with thehoe among his flock that day, and the other had come back from a longmarch to a native village. The night was clear and cool andwonderfully still, and the peace of the garden valley crept in onthem. One could almost have fancied the mission had been translatedfar from Africa, where tranquillity that is not tempered withapprehension seldom lasts very long. Then a sharp cry, harsh withhuman pain and terror, rang out of the soft darkness, and the man incharge of the station rose quietly from his chair.
"Herrero's men are here. Our time has come at last," he said.
The others rose with him, and stood very still for a moment or twolistening until the cry arose again more shrilly, and there was aclamor among the unseen huts. The crash of a long flintlock gun brokethrough it, and in the midst of the uproar they heard a patter ofnaked feet. Half-seen shadowy figures swept past among the l
eaves, anda red glare that grew momentarily brighter leapt up behind the mangotrees.
"Herrero's men," said the older man again, as though in the bitternessof the moment that was all that occurred to him.
They followed him down the stairway, though none of them knew whatthey meant to do, and, while now and then a half-naked figure dashedpast them, down a narrow path between the trees, until the thatchedroofs of the village rose close in front of them. One of them wasblazing fiercely, and in another few minutes they saw a little groupof dusky figures scurrying to and fro with burdens in the glare. A manamong the latter also saw the newcomers, for apparently in drunkenbravado he flung up a long gun, and there was a flash and a detonationas he fired at random. Nares saw him clearly, a big, brawny manswaying half-naked on his feet with short cotton draperies hangingfrom his waist, and his truculence was a guide to his profession. Hewas one of the hired ruffians who escort the labor recruits to thecoast, and the African has no more grievous oppressor than the negrowho acts as the white man's deputy.
Still, the missionaries saw very little more just then, for at theflash of the gun a swarm of terror-stricken boys who had been lurkingthere broke out from the shadow of the outlying huts, and swept madlyup the path. Nares ran forward to meet them, calling to them in anative tongue, but it was not evident that they understood him, forthey ran on. He felt one of his comrade's hands upon his shoulder, buthe shook it off, and clutched at one of the flying men nearest him. Hewas overwrought that night, and his patience had gone. An unreasoningfury of indignation came upon him, and in the midst of it heremembered that it was most unlikely Herrero's boys would do morethan attempt to overawe any one who might venture to resist them withtheir guns. Yet here was a flock of sturdy men flying in wild panicfrom a handful of ruffians. Perhaps this was natural. The men had seenwhat came of resistance, and had been taught drastically that it waswisest to submit to the white man and those whom he permitted topersecute them.
In any case, Nares's efforts availed him nothing, for the crowd offugitives surged about him and his companions and bore them along.They could neither make head against it nor struggle clear, and werejostled against each other and driven forward until the crowd grewthinner abreast of the mission house where several paths that led tothe hillslopes and the bush branched off. Then at last they reeled outfrom among the negroes, and while they stood gasping, Nares looked atthe man in charge of the station with a question in his eyes. Thelatter made a little gesture of resignation.
"That is certainly Herrero's work, and I think he has given them rum,but there is nothing we can do," he said. "They may burn a hut or two,but they can be built again, and the boys--I am thankful--have takento the bush. We will go back to the house."
This was not exactly to Nares' mind, but he recognized that there waswisdom in it, and they went up the little stairway and sat down oncemore upon the veranda. Now and then a hoarse shouting reached them,and the glare of burning thatch grew brighter, but nobody came near totrouble them. After all, a missionary's color counted for something,and it was a perilous thing for a negro who had not direct authorityto meddle with him. Still, the older man's face was troubled.
"They will go away by and by, and there is, fortunately, very littlein the huts," he said. "There is only one thing I am anxious about.Our store shed stands in a thicket among the trees yonder closebeneath us. We built it there not to be conspicuous, and they may notnotice it, but it is only a few weeks since our supplies camein--drugs and cloth, besides tools, and goods that we could notreplace."
Nares made a little gesture of comprehension. He knew that thefinances of the stations in that country are usually somewhatstrained, and that when supplies went missing on the journey from thecoast, as they sometimes did, the efforts of those they were intendedfor were apt to be crippled for many months.
"The place is locked?" he said.
"It is," said the younger man with a little smile. "After all, theboys are human. The door and building are strong enough, and the roofis iron. They can not burn it."
Nares glanced at his older companion and saw that there was stillconcern in his face. Half an hour dragged by, and they sat stillstruggling with the uneasiness that grew upon them. There was lessshouting in the village, and the fire was evidently dying down, butnow and then a hoarse clamor reached them. Nares felt that to sitthere and do nothing was a very hard thing. At last the younger manpushed his chair back sharply.
"I think they have found where the store shed is. They are cominghere," he said.
"I wonder who has told them," said his companion.
A patter of feet grew nearer, and Nares felt his mouth grow dry as heforced himself to sit still and listen, until several shadowy figuresflitted out from among the trees. Then the older man's question wasanswered, for one of them dragged a Mission boy along with him. Hecarried a hide whip in one hand, and turned towards the veranda with atruculent laugh as he brought it down on his captive's quiveringlimbs.
"Ah," said the younger man with sharp incisiveness, "I do not thinkone could blame that boy."
More figures appeared behind the others, and they flitted across thestrip of open space towards the store shed, after which there werehoarse shouts and a sound of hammering which ceased again. ThenHerrero's boys came back by twos and threes, big, muscular negroeswith short draperies fluttering from their hips, some of them lurchingdrunkenly. Three or four also carried long flintlock guns, and the onewho had the whip still dragged the Mission boy along. They stopped inthe clear space beneath the house, and Nares, who felt his heart beat,set his lips tight as one of them strode forward to the foot of theshort veranda stairway. He was almost naked, and for a moment or twothe white men sat still, and looked at him. It was, they felt, justpossible that at the last moment his assurance would fail him.Perhaps, he understood what they were thinking, for he made a littlecontemptuous gesture.
"We want the key to the store," he said in halting Portuguese.
Then Nares turned to the head of the station. "You mean to give ithim?"
"No," said the older man simply. "If they are able to break into theshed I can not help it, but, at least, I will do nothing to make iteasier for them. I am the Society's steward and these goods areentrusted to me."
Nares looked at his younger companion, and saw a little smile in hiseyes. It was clear that force would be useless, even if they had beenwilling to resort to it, but passive resistance was not forbiddenthem, and while apt to prove perilous it might avail, since it wasscarcely probable that Herrero's boys could find the key. Then theyounger man turned to the negro.
"We will never give you the key," he said.
"Then we will come and take it," said the man below.
He signed to his companions, and when three or four of them gatheredabout him clamoring excitedly Nares felt his blood tingle and his facegrow hot. Perhaps it was the fever working in him, and he wascertainly overwrought, and, perhaps, it was a subconscious awakeningof the white man's pride. After all, the men of his color helddominion, and it was an intolerable thing that one of them shouldsubmit to personal indignity at a negro's hand. A little quiver ranthrough him, but his restraint did not break down until the bigtruculent negro came up the stairway and laid a greasy black hand uponthe shoulder of the worn and haggard man who ruled the station. Heshook him roughly, grinning as he did it, and then Nares' self-controlsuddenly left him. Swinging forward on his left foot he struck at themiddle of the heavy, animal face, and the negro staggering wentbackwards down the stairway. Then with the sting of his knuckles achange came over Nares, for the passions he had long held in sternsubjection were suddenly unloosed. At last he had broken down under atension that had been steadily growing intolerable, and he turned onhis persecutors as other men of his faith have done. When men of thatkind strike they strike shrewdly.
There was also a change in the negroes' attitude. They had maltreatedtheir own countrymen at their will, but they had as yet never laidhands upon a white man. Perhaps, it was the rum Herrero
had given themwhich had stirred their courage, and, perhaps, they regarded amissionary as a good-humored fool who had for some inconceivablereason flung the white man's prerogative away. In any case, they werecoming up the stairway, three or four of them, and now the first mancarried a matchet, an instrument which resembles an old-fashionedcutlass. Nares, who asked for no directions, sprang into the roombehind him where one of the trestle cots not unusual in that countrystood. It had a stout wooden frame, and he rent one bar from thecanvas laced to it. In another moment he was back at the head of thestairway where the man in charge of the station stood, frail, andhaggard, but very quiet, with his thin jacket rent open where thenegro had seized him. A foot or two below him the man with the matchetwas coming up, naked to the waist, and half-crazed with rum. Narescould see his eyes in the moonlight, and that was enough.
He swung the bar high with both hands, and it descended on the negro'scrown. The man went backwards, but another who carried a long gunsprang over him, and the heavy bar came crashing down on his nakedarm. Then it whirled again, and there was a curious thud as it leftits mark upon a dusky face. There was a clamor from the men below, agasp behind Nares, and a folded canvas chair struck the next negro onthe breast. He, too, lost his balance, and in another moment thestairway was empty except for one of the dusky men who lay still uponthe lower steps of it. Nares stood on the veranda, with a suffusedface, and the perspiration dripping from him, and smiled curiouslywhen the man in charge of the station glanced at him with wonder and avague reproof in his eyes.
"I am not sure that I have anything to regret," he said. "They arecoming back again."
Herrero's boys were once more at the foot of the stairway, tramplingon their comrade as they scrambled over him, but there were now twomen with extemporized weapons at the head of it who stood above themand had them at a disadvantage. Nares was, however, never quite clearas to what happened during the next few minutes, for an unreasoningfury came upon him, and he saw only the woolly heads and dusky facesas he gasped and smote, though he was vaguely conscious that now andthen a shattered chair somebody whirled by the legs swung above hishead. Then a long gun flashed, and the detonation was answered by asharper, ringing crash. One of Herrero's boys screamed shrilly, andthe half-naked figures went scrambling down the stairway. They hadscarcely floundered clear of it when a man in white duck appeared inthe space below, and flung up a rifle, and another of the boys whowent down headlong lay writhing horribly in the sand. After that therewas a shouting and a patter of flying feet, and further dusky men withmatchets and Snider rifles poured out of the path that wound down thehillside. Nares quietly laid the bar he held against the wall, andturned to the others with a gasp.
"It's Ormsgill," he said.