The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar WallaceЧитать онлайн книгу.
legs over a fire.”
Bosambo did not sit down, but superintended the rescue of the unfortunate chief, accelerating the work — for the people of the village had no heart in it — by timely blows with the butt of his spear.
They lifted the roof and brought an old man to safety. There had been three others in the hut, but they were beyond help.
The old chief was uninjured, and had he been younger he would have required no assistance to free himself. They gave him water and a little corn to eat and he recovered sufficiently to express his contrition. For he had seen M’shimba-m’shamba, the green one.
“Higher than trees, he stood, lord,” he said to the interested Bosambo; “and round about his head were little tearing clouds, that flew backwards and forwards to him and from him like birds.”
He gave further anatomical particulars. He thought that one leg of the devil was longer than the other, and that he had five arms, one of which proceeded from his chest.
Bosambo left the village, having established the chief in his chieftainship and admonished his would-be murderers.
Now it need not be explained that Bosambo had no more right to establish chiefs or to admonish people of the Akasava than you and I have to vote in the Paris municipal elections. For Bosambo was a chief of the Ochori, which is a small, unimportant tribe, and himself was of no great consequence.
It was not to offer an apology that he directed his paddlers to make for the Akasava city. It lay nearly ten miles out of his way, and Bosambo would not carry politeness to such lengths.
When he beached his canoe before the wondering people of the city and marched his fifty paddlers (who became fifty spearmen by the simple expedient of leaving their paddles behind and taking their spears with them) through the main streets of the city, he walked importantly.
“Chief,” he said to that worthy, hastily coming forth to meet him, “I come in peace, desiring a palaver on the high matter of M’shimba-m’shamba.”
When the chief, whose name was Sekedimi, recognised him he was sorry that he had troubled to go out to greet him, for the Ochori were by all native reckoning very small fish indeed.
“I will summon the children,” said Sekedimi sourly; “for they know best of ghosts and such stories.”
“This is a palaver for men,” said Bosambo, his wrath rising; “and though the Akasava, by my way of thinking, are no men, yet I am willing to descend from my highness, where Sandi’s favour has put me, to talk with your people.”
“Go to your canoe, little chief,” snarled Sekedimi, “before I beat you with rods. For we Akasava folk are very jealous, and three chiefs of this city have been hanged for their pride. And if you meet M’shimba-m’shamba, behold you may take him with you.”
Thus it came about that Bosambo, paramount chief of the Ochori, went stalking back to his canoe with as much dignity as he could summon, followed by the evil jests of the Akasava and the rude words of little boys.
Exactly what capital Bosambo could have made from his chance acquaintance with M’shimba-m’shamba need not be considered.
It is sufficient for the moment, at any rate, to record the fact that he returned to his capital, having lost something of prestige, for his paddlers, who took a most solemn oath not to tell one word of what had happened in the Akasava village, told none — save their several wives.
Bosambo was in many ways a model chief.
He dispensed a justice which was, on the whole, founded on the purest principles of equity. Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, sat Sanders of the River, and upon his method Bosambo, imitative as only a coast man can be, based his own. He punished quickly and obeyed the law himself as far as it lay within him to obey anything.
There was no chief as well disciplined as he, else it would have been a bad day’s work for Sekedimi of the Akasava, for Bosambo was a man of high spirit and quick to resent affront to his dignity. And Sekedimi had wounded him deeply.
But Bosambo was a patient man; he had the gift which every native possesses of pigeonholing his grievances. Therefore he waited, putting aside the matter and living down his people’s disapproval.
He carried a pliant stick of hippo hide that helped him considerably in preserving their respect.
All things moved orderly till the rains had come and gone.
Then one day at sunset he came again to the Akasava City, this time with only ten paddlers. He walked through the street unattended, carrying only three light spears in his left hand and a wicker shield on the same arm. In his right hand he had nothing but his thin, pliant stick of hippo skin, curiously carved.
The chief of the Akasava had word of his coming and was puzzled, for Bosambo had arrived in an unaccustomed way — without ostentation.
“The dawn has come early,” he said politely.
“I am the water that reflects the light of your face,” replied Bosambo with conventional courtesy.
“You will find me in a kind mood,” said Sekedimi; “and ready to listen to you.”
He was fencing cautiously; for who knew what devilish lies Bosambo had told Sandi?
Bosambo seated himself before the chief.
“Sekedimi,” said he, “though my skin is black, I am of white and paramount people, having been instructed in their magic, and knowing their gods intimately.”
“So I have heard; though, for my part, I take no account of their gods, being, as they tell me, for women and gentle things.”
“That is true,” said Bosambo, “save one god, whose name was Petero, who was a great cutter off of ears.”
Sekedimi was impressed.
“Him I have not heard about,” he admitted.
“Knowing these,” Bosambo went on, “I came before the rains to speak of M’shimba-m’shamba, the green one, who walks crookedly.”
“This is the talk of children,” said Sekedimi; “for M’shimba-m’shamba is the name our fathers gave to the whirlwind that comes through the forest — and it is no devil.”
Sekedimi was the most enlightened chief that ever ruled the Akasava and his explanation of M’shimba-m’shamba was a perfectly true one.
“Lord chief,” said Bosambo earnestly, “no man may speak with better authority on such high and holy matters as devils as I, Bosambo, for I have seen wonderful sights and know the world from one side to the other. For I have wandered far, even to the edge of the world which looks down into hell; and I have seen wild leopards so great that they have drunk up whole rivers and eaten trees of surprising height and thickness.”
“Ko, ko,” said the awestricken counsellors of the chief who stood about his person; and even Sekedimi was impressed.
“Now I come to you,” said Bosambo, “with joyful news, for my young men have captured M’shimba-m’shamba, the green one, and have carried him to the land of the Ochori.”
This he said with fine dramatic effect, and was pleased to observe the impression he had created.
“We bound the green one,” he went on, “with N’Gombi chains, and laid the trunk of a tree in his mouth to silence his fearful roaring. We captured him, digging an elephant pit so deep that only men of strongest eyesight could see the bottom, so wide that no man could shout across it and be heard. And we took him to the land of the Ochori on a hundred canoes.”
Sekedimi sat with open mouth.
“The green one?” he asked incredulously.
“The green one,” said Bosambo, nodding his head; “and we fastened together four shields, like that which I carry, and these