CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
LOST AND FOUND.
The victorious band marched triumphantly into Equatoria as the shades of night were falling; but their joy, alas! was quickly changed to wailing.
Nowhere was there a soul to be seen in or about the town. Leigh was missing, with his wife and child, the Atagbondo guards, and the whole of Zero's plunder divisible amongst the three bands--all, everything was gone.
On carefully searching the public building, however, the whole of the "People of the Stick" were found tightly bound in the condemned cell, which was fastened from outside. The poor creatures were almost dead with thirst and starvation, having been locked up for over four days.
They soon, however, revived under friendly treatment, and then, calling up the interpreter, our anxious friends listened to their moving tale.
As a matter of fact, however, these men had very little to tell beyond saying that the very night the main body had left Equatoria they had been visited by an ancient man, the biggest Forest Fetish in those parts, and called by him to a "great dance" in the common hall, which was well lighted by priests holding torches in their hands.
He had delivered a long harangue to the "People of the Stick" regarding the gifts they were to send him from their own country, and after this the unfortunate audience heard no more, their senses gradually leaving them under the subtle influence of the smoke from the torches, which made the air heavy with a curious pungent odour. But though the men could neither move nor exercise the faculties of sight or hearing, each realised that he was being fettered and carried away, whilst he gradually yielded to an overpowering desire to sleep. Naught knew they of the Fetish beyond the fact that his habitation was somewhere in the dense and tangled forest of the east, into whose dark avenues no mortal man dare venture, for they were the home of ghosts and spirits, and the haunts of snakes, and wolves, and many evil things.
It was, of course, too late to make any move that night; so, after roundly cursing the ill-luck which had brought this latest misfortune upon them, the tired wayfarers ate their supper, set a watch, and then lay down to snatch a few hours' rest before the dawn.
The earliest gleam of daylight saw Grenville afoot, and with Kenyon, the Zulus, and a couple of hundred Mormons, he commenced to quarter the forest in every direction. Fearful work this was, for the place was simply a tangled and practically impenetrable jungle, upon which even the axes of the party made little impression. For three whole days did the little band prosecute their arduous search, returning to Equatoria each night utterly worn out with their fruitless and cruel labour.
On the third night, when Grenville, thinking sadly upon the unknown fate of his much-loved cousin, supposed his friend Kenyon to be asleep, to his utter astonishment that worthy suddenly shot up to his feet.
"Gods!" he yelled, fairly trembling with excitement. "Gods! I have it.
Dick, what cursed fools we've been--how could those priests have taken bound and stupefied people through these thickets, beyond which our axes cannot carry us. Ten to one in sovereigns, I take you straight to their lair at dawn, old man;" and so he did, never making a single mistake, and a mighty queer place they found it, _up amongst the tree-tops_.
Entering confidently a great hollow tree which stood about a mile from the town, and on the outskirts of the impenetrable bush, Kenyon triumphantly pointed to _a strong rough ladder run up the inside of the giant trunk_, and mounting this for near a hundred feet, all found themselves in a fair way to enter the abode of the famous Forest Fetish who dominated the timid natives in those parts, and was had--as is always the case--in even more repute amongst them, on account of his abominable extortions and deeds of violence, than was Muzi Zimba, the Ancient Fetish of the Hills, in consideration of his uniform kindness of soul.
High up upon the interlaced branches of the trees were fastened rough boards, thickly covered with grass matting, and on these, from tree to tree, our adventurers followed _for upwards of two miles_, a perfectly safe and absolutely silent road, of a uniform width of perhaps five feet, until they penetrated into the sacred presence of the arch-humbug himself. A mighty uproar there was, and a great seizing and brandishing of sacrificial knives and swords, as the first of our friends entered the roomy tree-top, boarded throughout, in which the priests had their semi-aerial domicile. But when these rascals, perhaps thirty or forty in number, saw the whole rescue-party file in, and the grim row of frowning muzzles opening in line with their wretched carcases, the entire band simply flopped down upon their knees, and howled for mercy, the "big man fetish" himself making more noise than anyone.
By great good fortune, poor Leigh, with his wife and child, had been preserved for the occasion of a great fetish dance at next new moon, and were soon found and released, and, as restitution was quickly made of all the plunder stolen from Equatoria, our friends contented themselves with giving the rascals what Kenyon called "a jolly good hiding all round," and then drove them out of the forest altogether, and set fire to their abominable nest, the dry matting making a fine blaze amongst the tree-tops, out of which it scared the monkeys, parrots, and other legitimate denizens in very large numbers. The simple "People of the Stick" were astonished at the discovery made by their white associates; for the poor fetish-ridden creatures of these parts had been almost harried out of their lives by the priests, who were supposed to dwell invisibly under a tree, in whose upper branches, however, was located their real abode. Under this tree, which could be reached only by a bridle-path from the rear of the belt of forest, the miserable negro would devoutly deposit his offering, and when returning upon his way to Equatoria, and passing near the hollow tree, _two miles off_, he would probably find the gift which, not unfrequently, comprised his little all, thrown contemptuously in his path, whilst hidden voices admonished the terror-stricken wretch to hurry off, and bring a better offering, unless he wished to have his heart torn out of his body. This, of course, was "very big fetish" to such a superstitious people, and they would do almost anything to propitiate the awful Spirit of the Air. Not content with these thievish tricks, however, the priests slew very many men, stole the women, and generally played the "hanky-panky spiritualist" game to their hearts' content.
Before liberating the "big man fetish" himself, Kenyon closely questioned him, through the interpreter, regarding the drug which he had used for the purpose of stupefying the "People of the Stick," and found that the feat was accomplished by steeping torches of fibrous bark in a compound made from bruised herbs, and which closely resembled chloroform in its effect, and of which, he added, he had often made quantities for Zero.
Asked if he knew how Zero used the drug, this man at once fully explained the whole "death," stupefaction, and abduction of Lady Drelincourt and her child--a miserable aboriginal savage thus calmly elucidating a mystery which had proved altogether too much for the wisest doctors and keenest detectives in far-away and enlightened England.
Upon Kenyon, however, expressing the most utter disbelief of his statement, the "Fetish" boldly offered to exhibit the result of the experiment in his own proper person, provided the white men would give him some powder and a gun before they went away; and Kenyon having undertaken to make him happy with a flint-lock and six feet of superior English tower-marked "gas-pipe," the man forthwith proceeded to demonstrate the truth of his curious tale.
First obtaining a small gourd of the drug referred to, he then took from a pouch at his side a beautiful _little tame white monkey_. Next picking a sharp thorn, he coated the point well with the nameless compound, and, giving the instrument to the monkey, pointed to himself.
The little animal cunningly concealed the thorn within its palm, and then offered to shake hands with its master, and this ceremony having been performed, the old man held up his hand and exhibited a small red mark in the palm. He then explained that the properties of the drug were distinctly anaesthetic, and that he could not feel the puncture, which was painlessly made; but he would nevertheless shortly go to sleep for three or four days, and then wake up again, being quite recovered, and none the worse for the experiment.
The drug had no perceptible effect upon the man for several hours, but towards evening he began palpably to get very drowsy, and no power on earth could keep him awake. The suspicious Kenyon, however, was not to be "done," and punched and kicked the old man unmercifully--an operation in which he was most ably seconded by Amaxosa, who beat the "cunning man of the witch-finders black and blue" with the handle of his spear, pausing only now and then to take a pinch of snuff. "Ow! my father," he said at last, throwing down the spear in disgust--"Ow, my father, who can beat the life into a dead dog like this? What is gone is gone for ever, and the breath will never come again, so we had best throw this low fellow to the jackals; he is far too cunning to live with men."
Kenyon, however, kept his man safely and watched him keenly; he found that during the continuance of the trance there was no perceptible pulse, nor was there any movement of the heart or respiratory organs; it was, in point of fact, an astonishing case of absolutely suspended animation. Everyone who examined the man insisted that he was an undoubted corpse, and ridiculed the very idea of his returning to life; and, to all appearance, he certainly was stone dead, and even Kenyon began to fear that the old fellow, in his eagerness to vindicate his reputation as a witch-doctor, had overdone the thing and settled himself once for all.
On the fifth night, however, the "fetish man" awoke, sat up, coolly asked for his powder and gun, and got both and a double allowance in exchange for his wonderful secret, which he imparted to the delighted Kenyon.
Lady Drelincourt confirmed all that the man had said. She perfectly remembered the pretty pet monkey, which had been brought round by Zero, who was himself disguised as an organ-grinder, and both she and her child had shaken hands with the little creature, and all the rest, of course, was simple to a man of Zero's capabilities, to whom the work of a resurrectionist was an unconsidered trifle, and whose devilish cunning had rightly calculated that the old family doctor would say anything, or sign anything, to protect his friend from the grisly horrors attendant upon a post-mortem examination.
Of her removal by sea poor Dora knew nothing, and her first recollections were upon a steamer bound for Madagascar, some days out from France; and whenever she began to come out of her trance, Madame Zero would promptly renew the dose, and effectually prevent the poor girl from getting loose or making mischief, whilst she was given out on board as being a delicate lady with an extremely feeble mind.
Zero's original intention had been to hold her for ransom, and apply to Leigh for an enormous sum of money; but his "wife" stopped this, feeling sure that it would bring upon the community the vengeance of the outraged English law.
As soon, however, as the slaver knew of Leigh's arrival in his vicinity, he determined upon the devilish plan of forcing Dora to marry one of his own men, and then promised himself the hellish satisfaction of _presenting her to her own husband as the wife of another man, and that man, a Mormon_.
Having once disposed of the "fetish palaver," Kenyon became more eager than anyone to turn his face homewards, and two days afterwards the whole party accordingly left Equatoria, and after destroying the Bridge of Rope, firing the public building, and razing to the ground the last stronghold of Zero the slaver, his conquerors steered a straight course for the south-western seaboard.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
FAREWELL.
Months later the whole band reached safely a small Portuguese haven on the south-west coast, in which there lay at anchor the Mormon's own steam-vessel, the _Brigham Young_, and all going on board of her, the old Prophet, who had now become excellent friends with Grenville and his party, ordered steam to be got up, and, running comfortably down the coast, soon landed our friends at Cape Town to wait for the English mail-boat, whilst he himself, after revictualling his ship, set sail for home with the remnant of his victorious army of the "Elect."
Bitter was the final parting between Grenville and Amaxosa, though the great Zulu to some extent concealed his true feelings under the mask of his accustomed stoicism.
"The light has gone out of my sun, my father," he said; "the storm-clouds are very heavy, and my heart is split in twain. What can the chieftain of the Undi say more? Yet, my father, if aught of evil comes upon thee, then, out of the trackless deserts of the unknown land beyond, call thou aloud for Amaxosa, thy true and only son, and thy faithful war-dog will answer, 'Here am I, my father!' and will straightway follow on along the narrow, bloodstained path, even through the darksome shadows of the dead, and into the glorious land of the great hereafter.
"Fare ye well, Inkoosis, wise and mighty chiefs!
"Adieu, my little sister, who from the shadows of the cruel past hast come to bless us!
"And to thee, my father--to thee, with whom the spirit of thy son is bound in the bundle of life here and hereafter, to thee the Lion of the Zulu gives his greeting last and best. Greeting to thee, bravest of the brave!
"Greeting and farewell!"