Part 35 (1/2)
The negro appeared to ponder over his answer, for it was with difficulty they understood each other, though another man crouching in the wood smoke flung in a word or two.
”Are you all against us because we are black?” he said. ”Those men at San Roque would shoot you if they could.”
”It is very likely,” and Ormsgill smiled a little. ”Still, I think we are not all against you--though I can not lead your men. There are white men among the Portuguese who know that you have wrongs. Some day they will have justice done.”
The negro spread out a dusky hand. ”That is what the missionaries tell us, but we have waited a long time, and there is no sign of it yet. We can not wait for ever, and very soon all my people will be at work upon the white men's plantations. They get greedier and greedier. Now at last we strike.”
Once more Ormsgill, standing still in the shadow watching him, was stirred by a vague compa.s.sion. He knew that revolt was useless, and wondered whether the old belief that there was a ban upon the negro and that he was made to serve the white man was not, after all, founded on more than superst.i.tion and self-interested sophistry. Other primitive peoples had, he knew, died off before the white man, but the Africans had thriven in their bondage, filling Brazil and the West Indies and the cotton-growing States. They were prolific, cheerful, adaptable to all conditions, and yet even where liberty had been offered them they remained a subject people, and made no effort to shake off the white man's yoke.
”You may sack San Roque,” he said. ”Still, I think you will never reach the coast.”
The Headman started at this boldness, and there was a vindictive gleam in his eyes, but his overlord sat silent a s.p.a.ce, apparently brooding heavily, and gazing at the mist. Then he turned to Ormsgill with a somewhat impressive deliberateness.
”At least,” he said, ”I go on. You will not lead our men, but you can not warn the white men at San Roque. When we have sacked the fort I will send for you again.”
Ormsgill made him a little formal inclination before he turned away, for the att.i.tude of this negro was one he could understand. He had himself attempted things that could not be done, expecting to be defeated, but undertaking them because he felt that, at least, was an obligation laid on him. Nares, and Father Tiebout, and no doubt countless host of others, had also done the same, and Nares the optimist had said that though they failed signally the protest of their futile efforts would be listened to some day. It seemed that the dusky man crouching beside the fire realized how much there was against him, but, as he had said, he was going on. Perhaps it is because men of all creeds and colors have pressed on downwards through the ages to face ax and stake and firing platoon that there are not even more of the overburdened in the world to-day. The cost of progress is heavy, and the upward struggle is very grim and slow.
In the meanwhile Ormsgill went back past the long rows of weary men lying in the sand to where his comrade was sitting in the clammy mist.
Nares was a little feverish that night.
”Well?” he said.
”I have been offered a command,” said Ormsgill. ”Naturally, I refused it. I also ventured to tell our friend that he would fail. It says a good deal for him that I escaped the usual fate of the prophets. He did not even ask me for my reasons.”
”You have them?”
”Yes,” said Ormsgill. ”The thing's quite evident in a general way and to be precise he has to reckon with Dom Clemente. You remember the man our guide fired at? I can't help thinking he has pa.s.sed on any information he may have picked up to the coast by now, and Dom Clemente is a man who can move to some purpose when it's advisable.
Still, I have no doubt we shall sack San Roque before to-morrow. Our friend hinted that measures would be taken to prevent us warning the Chefe.”
Nares turned and pointed to several men with rifles who sat half-seen not very far away. Then he seemed to s.h.i.+ver.
”There was a time when I could have warned them in San Roque, though I scarcely think they would have listened to me. Now I do not know that I would do it if I had the opportunity.” His voice grew sterner. ”They have brought it upon themselves. There are iniquities which can not be borne.”
His companion said nothing further, but sat down gnawing at an empty pipe until they started again. The Headman or his Suzerain had drilled his followers into some kind of order, and Ormsgill found something impressive in the silent flitting by of half-seen men. They came up out of the soft darkness with a faint patter of naked feet in sand, and were lost in it again ahead of him. Now and then there was a crackle of undergrowth or a clash of arms, but for the most part the long column went by like a crawling shadow, for these were men accustomed to flit through dim forests thick with perils noiselessly, and they did not proclaim their presence as white troops would have done. When they struck it would be in silence, and Ormsgill fancied that San Roque was not much more than a league away.
Still, it was rough traveling through loose sand and tangled scrub, and several hours had pa.s.sed when the long sinuous column stopped suddenly. The men in charge of Ormsgill handed him and Nares over to a few others, who had only flintlock guns, and these led them forward to a more open s.p.a.ce, where they sat down. The night had grown a trifle clearer, and Ormsgill could see a wide break in the bush in front of him. A broad belt of mist hung about one side of it, and the gurgle of sliding water came out of the vapor, against which there rose a shadowy ridge.
”The stockade,” he said. ”We have arrived. Dom Erminio has either no vedettes out, or our vanguard has stalked them and cut their throats.”
He broke off, but in another moment or two he spoke again with a little tension in his voice. ”It's curious, and no doubt in one way unreasonable, but I feel the desire to warn him getting almost too much for me. I don't know how one could do it, and it certainly wouldn't be any use, since I believe our friends are ringing the fort in. Dom Erminio must fight for his life to-night.”
The clang of a rifle, a Portuguese rifle, cut him short, and a cry rose out of the vapor. After that there was silence until a crackling commenced in the bush, and the two sat still and waited while the tension grew almost intolerable. Ormsgill, who felt his mouth grow parched and dry, fancied he could see the stockade a trifle more plainly, and the forest seemed to be growing blacker, though the mist was a little thicker than it had been. It was also perceptibly colder.
”It will be daylight in half an hour,” he said, and his voice struck on his companion's ears curiously strained and hoa.r.s.e.
Then another rifle flashed, there was a sudden shouting, and a tumultuous patter of naked feet, and a shadowy ma.s.s of running figures hurled themselves at the stockade. A good many of them never reached it, for the dusky barrier blazed with twinkling points of light, and a withering volley met them in the face. Then the drifting smoke was rent by brighter snapping flashes in quick succession, and the jarring thud of heavier reports broke through the crash of the rifles. This lasted for perhaps two minutes, and then there was by contrast a silence that was almost bewildering. It seemed emphasized when once or twice the ringing of a rifle came out of the streaks of drifting vapor that hung about the stockade.
”They're going back,” said Ormsgill hoa.r.s.ely. ”The Chefe's men will stand.” Then he laughed, a harsh, strained laugh. ”They know they have to. Our friends are not likely to have much consideration for any of them who fall into their hands.”
Nares, who s.h.i.+vered a little, said nothing, and a minute or two later a crackle of riflery broke out in the bush. It came from the Suzerain's men, for there was no mistaking the crash of the heavy Sniders. Once or twice the jarring thud of the machine gun broke in, and here and there a twinkling flash leapt from the stockade, but with that exception there was no answer from the fort.