Part 25 (2/2)

”Well, it looks as if we must either break out or starve. We may starve in any case. We didn't pa.s.s a single cultivated field on the way up, and if we made a dash for home we should have to depend on game and what wild fruits we could pick up. I don't know what on earth we can do, that's a fact.”

Next day saw them no nearer a solution of the problem. The enemy were still in force, and the punishment they had received had not sufficed to detach the ”bad men,” who were easily distinguishable from the other negroes by their characteristic equipment. Juma had in fact persuaded them that the surrender of the white men was only a matter of time: they could not live without food, and while they remained in the fort to obtain food was impossible.

”Look here, Charley,” said John that afternoon, ”we can't stand this any longer. It's neck or nothing, and I'm for a bold course. That village up yonder is crammed with food-stuff of all kinds. They've just been harvesting. I vote we make a dash for it and seize enough to last us best part of the way home. All the fighting men are away, or nearly all. If we can only get there it'll be easy enough to capture the place and hold it as long as we like: there's a good stockade. But I don't want to hold it. We might stay there a day or two until our men are fed up, and then make tracks. Perhaps we'd have the luck to escape them; it's not likely, I admit. They would be between us and the farm: we should have to be uncommonly clever to dodge them; and as we couldn't move fast, with our men loaded, they're bound to come up with us some time or other. That would mean a fight in the open; perhaps a running fight for miles, with the odds of numbers against us. But I prefer fighting to starving; and it's Hobson's choice.”

”It means a night march.”

”Yes, but the men won't mind that. We haven't failed in anything so far, and success goes a long way with them.”

”Your escape has bucked them more than anything. Bill has told them some wonderful story about your voyage on the raft, and if you talked about taking a trip to the moon I believe they'd think it feasible.”

”Things couldn't be better, then. Suppose we start about eight o'clock--the enemy will all be asleep by then--we should have ten hours'

grace before sunrise, more than long enough to get to the village, barring accidents.”

”That is, if they don't find out that we've gone.”

”Of course. I don't see why they should do that. They've never shown any inclination to attack us in the darkness, and if any of them keep a watch on the causeway side, they certainly don't at the other end, or Coja couldn't have got in. That's our way out. We shall have to keep the men quiet, but we've done that before, and when we've explained to them what's at stake they'll be on their mettle. We'll cross the pool in the canoes, and the paddles won't make any sound that they can hear, if we're careful.”

”I've an idea. While we're ferrying our things over, and most of the men, why not start the others on a sing-song? That would drown any noise we might make.”

”And wake the enemy! They'd wonder what was up. Why should we disturb their rest? Better not make any difference in our usual ways, I think: keep our fires burning, and give 'em no reason to think we're doing anything out of the ordinary.”

”You're right. There's a risk that in spite of all our care they'll hear something, but it will take 'em some time to make sure that we've gone, and it's ten to one they won't pursue us in the darkness.”

”And when they do find out, in the daylight, they'll probably waste some time in picking up the trail, unless they are good trackers, which we've no evidence of. I fancy we shall get, as I said, a good ten hours'

start of them, and I defy 'em to catch us then--again barring accidents.”

”D'you think you can stand the march?”

”I'm going to chance it, anyway. Your rubbings have done me a deal of good, and we can't go very fast at night, so I think I'll manage to keep up. If I can't, you must just sling me on to a litter. I'm eleven stone two--or was; I suspect I've lost a few pounds lately; but four men could toddle along with me, and a dozen will have loads in any case.

There's the ammunition, and all that flummery I gave to them; they won't want to leave that.”

”Suppose we find that some of the war-party have gone back?”

”It's not likely. They're here with the idea of getting loot, and not a man Jack of them will be willing to lose the chance of his share.

Anyway, we must risk it. If we have luck we shall get to the village before it's light, and a sudden rush will have the effect it always has on them.”

”Well, it sounds rather promising, and, upon my word, I'm itching to be off.”

”All in good time, old man. I wish we could all have a good feed before we start, but perhaps the men will march the better with the promise of a meal before them.”

The preparation of the men's loads was set about betimes. The absence of large quant.i.ties of food was an advantage; the other goods could easily be carried by twelve of the men, and the labour would be lightened by transferring the loads to the others in turn.

There was much excitement among the negroes when John explained his plan to them. The past successes had given them entire confidence in their leaders; and the prospect of actually capturing the village of the notorious ”bad men” had a spice of daring about it which lent it a certain charm.

At nightfall the canoes were let down over the wall and carried to the sh.o.r.e. Then the men conveyed the stores to them, moving so silently that only a very alert enemy could have detected the activity. The canoes had to make several journeys across the pool before all the goods and the men were ferried over. There was not a sound from the enemy's encampment. When all were safely landed, John called the men about him, and repeated his instructions to march quietly and above all to beware of straggling; then he set off with Bill to lead the way. Behind him came in order four askaris carrying rifles: then the twelve men with the ammunition and the a.s.sortment of oddments found in the fort; then six men bearing in litters three others whose wounds prevented them from marching. After these came the rest of the negroes, among whom the prisoner taken at the camp was enrolled, Ferrier and Coja bringing up the rear to ensure that there was no straggling at the end of the line.

<script>