CHAPTER VIII--REINECKE RETURNS

At the bungalow the native servants received Tom with smiles of welcome. It seemed that Reinecke had given out that his guest had gone away only for a time; that the war, a distant and unreal thing to them, could have turned apparent friends into enemies was as yet beyond their comprehension. Quickly and cheerfully they prepared a meal; and while Tom enjoyed food that, after the experiences of the past weeks, was incredible luxury, he bent all his wits to the solution of the amazing problem with which he was now faced.

Here he was, within a few minutes transformed from a fugitive and a wanderer into the absolute master of several hundreds of negroes. His lightest word would be law to them. The simple people were incapable of perceiving how precarious was his authority; to them he was just the m'sungu whom they admired and who had at a stroke altered the conditions of their existence.

The sergeant and three of the Arabs were for the present safely locked up. The remaining overseers, somewhere in hiding, could not leave the plantation, the gate being locked, to give warning to Reinecke on his homeward way of what had occurred. The askaris, always submissive to authority, probably took the newcomer for a German officer, and supposed the sergeant to have been guilty of some fault. And as for the negroes, there were something over a hundred able-bodied men who before long would have been askaris in the German service--unwilling recruits, but, in spite of their difficulties with drill, the raw material of excellent soldiers. That, at any rate, must be prevented.

How? Only by the immediate migration of the whole community. "A large order," thought Tom, knitting his brows. Yet not so difficult as it first appeared. These negroes had no possessions that they valued except their cooking-pots. Their natural life was the free open existence of the forest and the plain; they could build themselves huts in a day, and needed no furniture. The implements of their plantation work would be useful to them until they had made for themselves bows and arrows. A race of hunters, they would not want for food; besides, there were the plantation stores which could be conveyed away.

But in what direction could they go? Bismarckburg was only twenty miles distant; some ten miles nearer was the road to Neu Langenburg, no doubt studded with German military posts, and patrolled. As soon as the mutiny became known, a force would be dispatched from Bismarckburg, or a telegram sent along the road warning any troops that might be moving up for the projected attack on Abercorn. Thus a migration into British territory would be impossible. The Wahehe country was far to the north, within the German boundaries; there could be no safety for them there. For the moment the problem seemed to be, to find a temporary refuge in some spot difficult of access, where the people might dwell in comparative security until the course of events became clear.

What better place could there be than the nullah he had lately left? It was within easy marching distance, yet far enough away, for while only about fifteen miles from the plantation, it was nearly twice that distance from Bismarckburg, and in the heart of the forest. Between its steep banks a much larger body than these few hundred people might take shelter. It was near water; the forest provided food to supplement what might be removed from Reinecke's storehouses. Within this natural fortress, strengthened by such art as the negroes under guidance were capable of, they might bid defiance to any but a well-equipped force, which circumstances might not allow the Germans to organise, and which in any case it would take time to set on foot. In the interval he might attempt to get into communication with the British beyond the border.

After half an hour's cogitation Tom had made up his mind. To ward off suspicion among the servants, he ordered them to hasten preparations for the meal which Reinecke would expect on his arrival, then hurried back to the negroes' quarters, his brain busy with his plans.

It was fortunate that he had in Mwesa a quick and efficient interpreter, and in Mirambo a devoted henchman whose former rank in his own country lent him authority with the rest of the natives. Through these two, uncle and nephew, he made arrangements for the exodus with a celerity that surprised himself. And if his brother Bob had been able to transport himself on a magic carpet to this spot in Central Africa, that hard-headed man of business would no doubt have been amazed at the qualities shown in this emergency by one whom, in his elder-brotherly attitude, he was accustomed to call "the kid." The truth is, of course, that some people are happily born with the gift of organisation, though it may lie dormant, unsuspected, until occasion rouses it.

Tom's first measure was to arrange for the immediate evacuation of the women and children. Led by Mushota, and escorted by a band of the elder men, they were to leave the plantation and push on as far as possible on the way to the nullah while daylight lasted. At nightfall they would camp, and their escort would be at no loss to protect them until the dawn. Nor would they go empty-handed. Each woman, each child, would carry such household gear as would be useful, together with provisions for a meal or two.

While the women were merrily making their preparations, Tom got the men together, and set them to empty the store-sheds; to bring all the foodstuffs into the open, and divide them up into loads, under the direction of the men who were accustomed to serve as porters to and fro between Bismarckburg and the plantation. In one of the sheds, whose padlocked door he forced open, he was delighted to find the Mauser rifles which had recently been imported for the arming of the new recruits, together with a stock of small-arm ammunition. He set Mwesa to discover which of the men had had musketry instruction by the German sergeant, and arranged that these should have the rifles and a few rounds of cartridges when the packing was finished; and he warned them that if they fired without orders the rifles would be taken away and they would have to carry extra loads--a threat that was likely, he thought, to prove effectual. There were enough rifles to arm also a few of the older men, like Mirambo himself, who had had previous experience of firearms; and though their experience dated back a good many years, and the Mauser was a very different weapon from the old trade musket which they had formerly handled, he had no doubt that with a little practice they would soon outdo many of the recruits, whose instruction could not yet have been carried very far.

The half-dozen askaris looked surprised when they were ordered to lay down their arms and assist in the baling of the food; but Tom's air of assured authority imposed upon them, and they appeared to have no suspicion that he was a usurper until the women and children were ready to march out. It was not till then that Tom, feeling in his pocket for the duplicate key of the gate which Reinecke had given him, discovered that he had lost it, probably in his fall into the pit. The only other keys were in the possession of Reinecke and the principal overseer, and the latter, arrested in his attempt to escape, was locked in the prison-shed. Tom went to the shed to get this man's key, opened the door, and was amazed to find the place empty. All three Arabs and the German sergeant were gone. They had wrenched away some of the poles that formed the rear wall of the shed, and escaped unnoticed in the bustle attending the preparations for departure.

This discovery gave Tom an unpleasant, even an alarming shock. The loss of the key was a small matter; the gate could be forced; but if the men were already well on the way to give the alarm to Reinecke, as was only too likely, the whole scheme of escape was in danger of being utterly ruined. Without an instant's delay Tom hurried back, selected a dozen men whose build promised fleetness of foot, armed them with hoes and mattocks, and ran with them down to the gate, intending to burst the lock with a rifle-shot. He found, however, that the Arab, in his haste to escape, had left the key in the lock. The gate was open. Tom dispatched the natives along the road to capture the runaways. At this hour Reinecke was probably within eight or nine miles of the plantation, a distance which his bearers would take at least four hours to cover; but if the fugitives reached him, he would no doubt spring from his machila and hurry forward on foot, accompanied by his armed askaris. It seemed, then, that the evacuation of the place must be completed within three hours at the most.

Luckily the women were ready, and Tom ordered them at once to set off. It was then that the askaris became suspicious, and began to put their heads together; but Tom stamped out any spark of mutiny that might have been kindled by separating the men, and assigning to them places among the natives who were now preparing to mount their loads. Disarmed, with armed men around them, the askaris dared not disobey; and within a few minutes after the departure of the women they were marching out among the first contingent of the Wahehe, each bearing a weighty bundle upon his head. Mirambo had selected the steadiest of his fellows to form this first band, who were to follow the women, lay down their loads at the proposed camping place, and then return at once for more. Meanwhile the other three overseers had been rounded up, bound, and placed under guard: there must be no more fugitives.

While Mirambo was superintending the packing of the remainder of the stores, Tom was wrestling with another problem. Reinecke would arrive about sunset. He would find the gate locked as usual, and the silence of the plantation would not awaken suspicion, for work hours were over, and he would suppose the workers to have returned to their distant quarters, out of earshot from the central road and from the bungalow. But as soon as he reached the bungalow the fat would be in the fire. He would expect the principal overseer and the German sergeant to be awaiting him, to give in their reports. Not finding them, he would send one of the servants to fetch them. In ten minutes, or little more, all would be known. What would he do? Perhaps lead his askaris in pursuit, perhaps dispatch a runner to the nearest post on the Neu Langenburg road to bring up reinforcements. In either case the flight of the people would be harassed; they might be caught before they had reached their defensive position. Tom saw that to gain time was of prime importance.

How could he gain time? It would be possible to ambush Reinecke and his party in the woods close to the plantation. Even if they had been warned by the fugitive overseers and the sergeant, they would probably not suspect that the Englishman would attempt, with untrained natives, to trap seasoned soldiers. But an ambush would involve the necessity of firing without warning, and Tom was too raw at the game of war to adopt so cold-blooded a course.

Another idea suggested itself which, hazardous as it seemed, had a certain attractiveness that commended it to Tom's sense of sport He called up Mwesa.

"What does Reinecke do when he comes back from Bismarckburg with askaris?" he asked.

"Him eat all too much," replied the boy.

"Yes, but I mean what does he do before that? Where does he dismiss the askaris?"

"Dey all go to house, sah; stand outside; den he make um say one, two, three; den dey go home."

Tom gathered that Reinecke was accustomed to hold a sort of inspection parade before dismissing the men to their shed several hundred yards away. From his own experience he knew the method of procedure with the porters. These brought their loads to the bungalow; the goods were checked off by Yakoub, the native clerk, then carried to the store-sheds.

"Very good, Mwesa.... Here come my scouts--without prisoners. See what they say."

The twelve men he had sent in pursuit of the runaways reported that they had run almost to Bismarckburg--a typical native exaggeration at which Tom smiled. They had seen Reinecke and his party coming slowly up the road: neither the overseers nor the sergeant were with them. Since the African has no measure either of time or distance Tom could not discover exactly how far away Reinecke was when the men saw him; but on his asking when the party would arrive, the spokesman pointed to the sun and then stooped and moved his hand along just above the ground.

"At sunset, as I thought," said Tom to himself. "Then we have about two hours."

An hour later the second contingent of the people left, well loaded up. Tom locked the gate behind them, then set forty men whom he had retained to remove all litter and other traces of the exodus from that portion of the road which must be traversed in approaching the bungalow. This done, he gave rifles and a round or two of ammunition to twenty of the men, and ordered the other twenty to arm themselves with implements of their daily work. It still wanted half an hour of sunset. Tom allowed the men twenty minutes to make a good meal; then he divided each band, posting ten riflemen and ten of the others in the bushes near the gate, and the rest under cover in the grounds of the bungalow, where they commanded the open space in front of the entrance. This last disposition was made very stealthily, in order to avoid attracting the attention of the household servants, who, however, were busy in their outbuildings at the back, making final preparations for their master's dinner.

Having given his men their orders, Tom entered the bungalow, clapped his hands for one of the servants, asked him if dinner was ready, and reminded him that Herr Reinecke always liked a drink as soon as he returned home.

"Take it to the dining-room," he said, "and one for me too."

He then went into the room Reinecke used as an office, opened a drawer in which there was usually kept a revolver, assured himself that it was loaded, and taking it to the dining-room, slipped it half underneath the edge of a wide fruit dish. The servant brought in two large tumblers of a claret-cup of Reinecke's invention. Tom drank his off, then sat down and helped himself to a confection of rice and fruit. But now that the critical moment was approaching he found himself without appetite. To steady his nerves he lit a cigarette, and changed his position slightly, so that he had a good view through the window of the approach to the bungalow.

Tom was smoking his fourth cigarette, and the brief twilight of Equatorial Africa was already half spent, when he heard the tramp of marching men, and saw the expected party filing into the grounds of the bungalow. First came two askaris, then Reinecke and a native N.C.O., then a number of porters with bales on their heads, finally a dozen askaris. Reinecke was in uniform--white helmet and tunic, khaki breeches, and leggings.

The number of askaris was greater than Tom had looked for. He noticed that the hand that held his cigarette was trembling a little, drew a long breath, and waited. The atmosphere seemed to be highly electric.

Reinecke ordered the askaris to halt and ground arms, the porters to lay down their loads. Then he called for Selim and Sergeant Morgenstein, who ought to have been awaiting him, and cursed them volubly in German. He shouted a few words in Bantu to the native corporal, and strode into the bungalow. He was evidently in a bad temper.

Turning into the dining-room he gasped and started back. Tom dropped his cigarette into the ash-tray, laid his hand near the butt of the revolver on the table, and, smiling grimly, said--

"No. I'm not a ghost, Herr Reinecke--nor a skeleton."

Reinecke, standing in the doorway, had quickly recovered himself.

"So!" he laughed. "But it is clear: you are a fool."

"I _was_ a fool--to trust you," said Tom, standing up.

"You _are_ a fool--to come back here," said Reinecke, with another laugh. He advanced a step into the room and laid his helmet on a chair.

"That's as may be. You will consider yourself my prisoner, Herr Reinecke."

The German stared, then with a derisive guffaw, cried--

"Your prisoner? Are you a madman as well as a fool? Ha! ha!--your prisoner! We are at war: yes, you realise it. But _your_ prisoner! Why, you foolish child, don't you realise that you are _my_ prisoner?--that I can have you shot as a spy?--that that is exactly what I shall do?"

"We seem to be talking at cross purposes." Tom grasped his revolver, and with a quick movement pointed it at the German's head. "Not a word," he added swiftly, as Reinecke, after a moment's paralysing astonishment, was turning towards the door, and at the same time fumbling for the revolver slung across his shoulder. "Understand: if you call out, or make a single suspicious movement--drop your hands, sir--I shall fire, and if I fire it will be a signal to my men who are waiting to settle accounts with your askaris. Take off your pistol strap: lay it on the table: your left hand, please: be careful not to touch the button."

Reinecke, taken all aback--what did the Englishman mean by "my men"?--removed his strap and laid it on the corner of the table Tom pointed to.

"Now your sword-belt."

The German obeyed.

A servant came through the inner door carrying dishes.

"Not yet," said Tom: "we are not quite ready."

The servant smiled, started as he saw the revolver in Tom's hand, then backed hurriedly.

"Remain in the kitchen till I call," added Tom. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you will precede me--I am not bluffing--to the place where my men are hidden. I don't wish to kill your askaris, but any madness on your part will provoke a volley from my men. It will avoid trouble, then, if you order yours to pile arms. Remember this revolver. If you make a mistake in the word of command it will be fatal to you as to them. Lead on."

The German turned without a word. Outside, the askaris were standing at ease: Yakoub, the native clerk, had just finished checking off the porter's loads. Reinecke ordered the askaris, in a voice unlike his own, to pile arms and reassemble two deep. At Tom's bidding he told Yakoub to go to his hut and remain there. A call from Tom brought Mwesa bounding from behind a shrub.

"Get the men to collect these arms," said Tom.

The negroes came from their hiding place and seized upon the askaris' rifles. The amazed porters, standing by their loads, broke out into eager questioning, and the replies set them shouting, laughing, leaping with glee. The askaris, equally astonished, looked in a puzzled way from Reinecke to Tom, and made no resistance when the Wahehe were ordered to tie their hands behind their backs. Reinecke, standing within a yard of Tom, gnawed his moustache in impotent rage.

"Keep these men under guard," said Tom, and Mwesa summoned forth the concealed riflemen. "Now, Herr Reinecke, you shall have your dinner. Make the most of it. It will be a long time before you get such a meal again."