Guy in the Jungle; Or, A Boy's Adventure in the Wilds of Africa Read online

  CHAPTER VI.

  A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH.

  At the sight of the daring Arab chief Guy could scarcely restrainhimself. He would have drawn his revolver and shot him down then andthere, but Colonel Carrington interfered.

  "Don't excite them," he said cautiously; "their punishment is sure inthe end. How can they defend Zaila against the British gunboats thatwill be sent here? We have possibly a chance for our lives yet. Don'tdestroy that last chance."

  The colonel plainly had strong hopes. It is well enough in some cases tofight to the very last, and have your names printed in the army list asheroes who died at their post, but in this case the safety of Sir Arthurwas plainly the important point, and any concession must be made tosecure this. So all idea of making a fight of it was given up. Short andbrief would have been the struggle for Guy and Melton, as the threeHindoos were the only ones armed, and they had but a scant supply ofammunition.

  Makar held a short conversation with three or four Arabs, and then,slipping down from his camel, he walked off a little from the residencyand shouted loudly, "Inglis men, come down. You no be killed. Youprisoners of war."

  The idea of Makar's investing this bloody outbreak with all the dignityof legitimate warfare was ridiculous, and the colonel laughed.

  "What's that about prisoners?" cried Sir Arthur, coming eagerly forward."Will they spare our lives, I wonder? Let me talk to the fellow. I'lltry to conciliate him."

  He walked pompously to the parapet and bent over. Perhaps the champagnehe had drunk had affected his head. At all events he leaned a little toofar, and, suddenly losing balance, he toppled over and fell with a thudplump on the heads of two Arab sentries at the door. All three came tothe ground in a heap, and it was a great relief to the anxious watchersabove to see Sir Arthur stagger to his feet apparently unhurt.

  The effect on the Arabs was electric. The remaining guards glanced upapprehensively, and very speedily changed their location.

  As for Makar, he evidently believed that Sir Arthur had come downexpressly in response to his summons, for he waited for the rest tofollow his example.

  "Bless my heart!" muttered Sir Arthur. "What a narrow escape!"

  He started toward Makar, but two Arabs laid hold of him and pulled himroughly to one side.

  "We'd better go down," said the colonel, and raising his voice heshouted,

  "Do you swear to preserve our lives if we come down?"

  "By the shades of Mohammed, I swear it. Come down," replied Makar.

  "We'll have to trust to his word," said the colonel. "Put the ladder inposition."

  The ladder, with one end on the ground, failed to reach the top of theparapet by four or five feet. It was a ticklish business to drop down onthe upper round, but one by one they accomplished it, and, descending tothe ground, were speedily seized and relieved of everything on theirpersons.

  Perhaps Makar doubted his ability to keep his word, for he hurried hisprisoners into the residency, away from the turbulent crowd, and leftthem in the hall in custody of a dozen armed Arabs.

  They had not been here five minutes when a commotion was heard outside,and the shattered doors were pulled apart to admit half a dozen weary,blood stained soldiers of the garrison. They were the last survivors,and they told a fearful story.

  The fortifications had been attacked, they said, at the same time by thepopulation of the town on one side, and on the south by a vast horde ofArabs and Somalis, who suddenly appeared over the sand-hills mounted oncamels. They alone had been made prisoners. All others had been shot,including the officers, the port surgeon, and the native assistantresident.

  This sad story brought tears to the eyes of all, and even Sir Arthurwaxed terribly indignant and prophesied speedy retribution.

  But now the guards sternly forbade conversation. An hour or more passedon, during which time many persons indistinguishable in the gloom,passed in and out of the residency.

  Then came a summons to appear before the chief.

  "Don't be alarmed," said Sir Arthur reassuringly. "We shall be sentacross the gulf of Aden. This wretch will not dare do injury to hermajesty's representatives."

  Sir Arthur's sudden change of spirits was not shared by the rest.

  "Nerve yourself," Melton whispered to Guy. "I have an idea of what iscoming," and before Guy could reply they were ushered into the veryapartment which they had left so hastily a few hours before.

  It had undergone no change. The lamps had been relit, the wine bottlesand glasses still stood on the table, and in Sir Arthur's chair of statesat Makar Makalo, very stern and dignified, while around him, squattedon the rugs, were four Arabs of superior caste and intelligence,comprising, no doubt, the freshly formed cabinet of the great governorof Zaila.

  Makar waited until his captives had ranged themselves along the wall,and then, with great _sang froid_, he helped himself to a cigar from SirArthur's choice box of Partagas, lit it, and poured off a glass ofchampagne which he despatched at a gulp.

  Having thus proved beyond a doubt that he possessed all the chiefqualifications of a British political resident, he settled back in hischair and surveyed his prisoners with lowering brow.

  "Bless my heart!" ejaculated Sir Arthur. "What most amazing impu--" asudden rap on the head from one of the guards cut short his speech, andhe relapsed into indignant silence.

  Makar was plainly a man of iron nerve, for he met calmly and even boldlythe indignant, defiant glances that were turned upon him as he scannedthe row of prisoners ranged before him.

  Glancing toward the windows he dispersed with a wave of his hand thedark swarm of faces peering eagerly within, and then at last he deignedto break the silence which had become so ominous.

  "I have promised ye your lives," he said. "Makar never breaks his word.Allah is great, and it is the will of Allah that Zaila should belong tothe true followers of the prophet. Already has his will been fulfilled.The hated Inglis soldiers are dead. Rao Khan is the ruler of Zaila, andMakar is his servant."

  He paused and helped himself to another glass of champagne. It wasevident that Makar was not at heart a true follower of the prophet, forthe Koran strictly forbids all intoxicants.

  Another impressive pause followed. Guy glanced at Melton and was alarmedto see the dead white pallor on his face. Melton alone perhaps knew whatwas coming. On the rest the blow fell with crushing severity.

  "Have I not said that Makar's word is inviolate?" the Arab resumed,leaning forward and uttering each syllable sharply and distinctly.

  "Can Makar break his pledge?" and he turned to his solemn visagedministers.

  "No, no, no," they muttered in guttural accents, and solemnly shakingtheir heads.

  "Then hark ye all," Makar went on. "I have sworn on the Koran thatwhatsoever prisoners fell to my lot should be delivered over as slavesto the Somalis of the Galla country. I have spoken. It is Kismet. Atdaybreak ye start for the interior."

  Sir Arthur staggered back against the wall with a dismal groan, theHindoos fell on their knees begging piteously for mercy, ColonelCarrington seemed dazed, stupefied, Guy clinched his hands and made adesperate effort to bear up bravely, while Melton's face wore the samepale, hopeless expression.

  No one spoke. Supplications and prayers would alike be useless. TheArab's stern, pitiless countenance spoke plainer than words. Mercy wasan unknown word in his vocabulary.

  "Spare us, spare us!" moaned Sir Arthur, coming forward a pace or twoand making as though he would fall on his knees.

  "I have spoken," cried Makar harshly. "Words will avail ye nothing."

  He made a signal to the guards, who at once closed in on the wretchedcaptives and led them away.