The Ivory Trail Part 21

"Don't forget that I want you presently," he ordered. "Be quick and get your own dinner."

"I'm in love with this ivory hunt!" Fred whispered to us across the table. "If she's sure our pockets are worth going through, I'm sure there's something to look for!"

"Are you sure the maid went through our things?" asked Will.

"Quite. I left my shooting jacket hanging on a hook. Everything was emptied out of the pockets on to the berth."

"I think I'll make you a confession presently," said I, with a look at Will that just then he did not understand.

"Never confess before dessert and coffee!" advised Fred. "It spoils the appet.i.te."

CHAPTER FIVE

THE SLAVE GANGS

Our fathers praised the old accustomed things, The privilege of chiefs, the village wall Within whose circling dark Monumme* sings O' nights of belly-full and ease and all They taught us we should prize and praise (Only of dearth and pestilence should be our fears;) And now behind us are the green, regretted days.

The water in the desert is our tears.

Then ye, who at the waters drink Of Freedom, oh with Pity think On us, who face the desert brink Your fathers entered willingly.

Our fathers mocked the might of the Unseen, Teaching that only what we saw and felt Was good to fight about--what aye had been, Old-fas.h.i.+oned foods that their forefathers smelt, Old stars each night illuming the old sky, The warm rain softening ere women till the ground, The soft winds singing, only ask not why!

And now our weeping is the desert sound.

Oh ye, who gorge the daily good, Unquestioned heirs of all ye would, Spare not too timidly the blood Your fathers shed so willingly.

Our fathers taught us that the village good was best.

Later we learned the red, new tribal creed That our place was the sun--night owned the rest Unless their treasure profited our greed!

But now we gather nothing where our fathers sowed, For harvest grim the vultures wait in rows As, urged by greedier than us with gun and goad, Yoked two by two the slave safari goes.

Oh ye, who from true judgment shrink, Nor gentleness with courage link, Be thoughtful when the cup ye drink Your fathers spilled so willingly.

---------- * Monumme (Kiswahili)--Lit. male-man in his prime.

The guard procured his trays at last, delivered them at a run, returned in a hurry and swallowed his own meal at a side-table. Then, with his mouth full, he reported for orders to the railway official, who was still checking figures. The room was beginning to grow empty.

Coutla.s.s and his Greek friend and the Goanese sat almost alone at the far end of the other table, finis.h.i.+ng their pudding. I had not noticed until then that the guard was a singularly little man. He stood very few inches taller than the seated official. I suppose that hitherto in some way his energy had seemed to increase his inches.

"Are there handcuffs in the caboose?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fetch them."

In spite of Brown of Lumbwa's protests, who wept at the notion of having to eat alone, we were in the act of settling our bills and going. But mention of handcuffs suggesting entertainment, we lit cigars and, imagining we stayed for love of him, Brown cooed at us.

"I've the darbies in my pocket, sir!"

I thought the guard looked more undersized than ever. He would have made a fair-sized middle-weight jockey.

"Tell that Greek--Coutla.s.s his name is--to come here."

With his tongue stuck into his cheek and a wink at us the guard obeyed.

"He says for you to go to 'ell, sir!" he reported after a moment's interview.

"Very well. Arrest him!"

"He'll need help," I interrupted. "My two friends and I--"

"Oh, dear no," said the official. "He is fully up to his work."

So we moved our chairs into position for a better view.

The guard advanced fox-terrierwise to within about six paces of Coutla.s.s.

"Up with both your 'ands, Thermopylea!" he snapped. "Your bloomin'

reckonin's come!"

Coutla.s.s showed tobacco-stained teeth for answer, and his friends rutched their chairs clear of the table, ready for action. Yet they were taken unawares. With a terrier's speed the guard pounced on Coutla.s.s, seized him by the hair and collar, hurled him, chair and all, under a side-table, and was on the far side of the table kicking his prostrate victim in the ribs before either Greek or Goanese--likewise upset in the sudden onslaught--could gather themselves and interfere.

The Goanese was first on his feet. He hurled a soda-water bottle. The guard ducked and the bottle smashed into splinters on the wall. Before the sound of smas.h.i.+ng gla.s.s had died the Goanese was down again, laid out by blows on the nose and jugular. Then again the guard kicked Coutla.s.s, driving him back under the table from which he was trying to emerge on all fours.

The second Greek looked more dangerous. His face grew dark with rage as the lips receded from his yellow teeth. He reached toward his boot, but judged there were too many witnesses for knife work and rushed in suddenly, yelling something in Greek to Coutla.s.s as he picked up a chair to brain the guard with. He swung the chair, but the guard met it with another one, dodged him, and tripped him as he pa.s.sed. In another second it was his turn to be kicked in the ribs until he yelled for mercy. (An extra large dinner and all those a.s.sorted drinks in addition to what they had had in the train made neither man's wind good.)

No mercy was forthcoming. He was kicked, more and more violently, until the need of crawling through the door to safety dawned on his muddled wits and he made his exit from the room snake fas.h.i.+on. By that time Coutla.s.s was on his feet, and he too elected to force the issue with a chair. The guard sprang at the chair as Coutla.s.s raised it, bore it down, and drove his fist hard home into the Greek's right eye three times running.

"'Ave you 'ad enough?" he demanded, making ready for another a.s.sault.

The Goanese had recovered and staggered to his feet to interfere, but Coutla.s.s yielded.

"All right," he said, "why should I fight a little man? I surrender to save bloodshed!"

"Put your 'ands out, then!"

Coutla.s.s obeyed, and was handcuffed ignominiously.

"Outside, you!"

A savage kick landed in exactly the place where the Goanese least expected and most resented it. He flew through the door as if the train had started, and then another kick jolted Coutla.s.s.

"Forward, march! Left-right-left-right!"

With hands manacled in front and the inexorable bantam guard behind, Coutla.s.s came and stood before the railway official, who at last condescended not to seem engrossed in his accounts.

"'Ere he is, sir!"

"I suppose you know, my man, that I have magisterial powers on this railway?" said the official.

Coutla.s.s glowered but said nothing.