CHAPTER IX

THE MAJOR’S VENTURE

In January, 1915, a fresh prisoner arrived. This was the airman, C——, who had been captured in the Rufigi River. While flying over the delta for the purpose of ascertaining the position of the _Königsberg_, his engine failed and he was forced to descend in the river. Since his machine was a seaplane that fact did not trouble him much, as he hoped to get his engine going again in a very short time. Unfortunately he came down just opposite a place on the bank where the Germans had mounted some machine-guns, and, spotting him, they at once opened fire. The first few shots punctured the petrol-tank, which rendered him helpless, and the current carried him slowly but surely in towards the shore, so that at last he was forced to wave his handkerchief in token of surrender, and a seaman waded out and took him prisoner. But the Huns did not get the machine, for one of our ships at the mouth of the river had seen the descent and sent in a steamboat to render aid. Its crew kept the enemy off by gunfire, and managed to salve the seaplane.

When C—— arrived at Kilimatinde he was received just as we had been, with eager demands for news, in which we joined, for since our capture not a word of what was going on in the outside world had reached us. But, alas! he had nothing of much importance to tell us, and we were especially disappointed to learn that as yet no great offensive had been started in the Colony.

On the 23rd of February yet another prisoner arrived. This was Lieut. P——, of the R.N.R., who had also been captured in the Rufigi. On February 6th, in charge of an armed launch, he had gone up the river to test the strength of the German posts and defences on its banks. He had only gone a little way when the Huns opened fire, and, putting the helm hard over, he turned the launch round with a view to retiring in accordance with his instructions. A shot hit the vessel in the stern and jammed the steering-gear. Under a hot fire the crew laboured to free it, but without success, and they could move neither ahead nor astern, but only spin round and round. Though they tried going ahead and astern alternately, they could not manage to draw out of range, and the guns on the beach were so well masked that our men could not return their fire with any effect. In the end they ran aground, and being subjected to a hail of bullets, nothing remained for them but to raise the white flag.

Several of the crew were wounded, but eventually recovered, and one who was killed outright was buried on the banks of the Rufigi. Later I was shown a photograph of his grave which had been taken by a German; it was marked with a little wooden cross.

The launch was riddled with shots, and I heard that next day one of our ships blew a great hole in her stern with the object of making her useless to the enemy; but some months afterwards a German told me with great glee that they had succeeded in salving her all the same, and that she had been taken in sections to Lake Tanganyka. This seemed to me rather a tall story, and I cannot vouch for its truth. Lieut. P—— was the only prisoner brought to Kilimatinde; his men were interned as ours had been at Tabora.

February was an eventful month at the Boma, for on the 26th it was discovered that the Major had escaped, and great excitement prevailed. It has already been described how we were allowed out for exercise after tea, no particular tally of numbers being taken either on our going forth or coming in. I had noticed that the Major always carried a cushion with him, and in my innocence imagined he used it to sit on. But it now appeared that the cushion had a loose cover in which he contrived to smuggle out small quantities of food, chiefly rice and dried meat. Some of us had commented on his enormous appetite, and wondered how he could manage to consume such quantities of rice, but it never dawned on us that he was storing the stuff with deliberate purpose. Even though he used to have talks with me on dietetics, with especial regard to the relative values of food, and the amount of rice or other comestible needed to sustain a man for twenty-four hours, I never suspected his intention.

The food once safely smuggled out, he used to hide it in some bushes, which being now in leaf afforded very good cover. Then a day came when, having gone out with us as usual, the Major never returned. One or two noted his absence, but they made no remark, and the majority were still quite unconscious of it. It was not until the middle of the next day that the Germans discovered his flight, and even then I believe it would have been unnoticed had not one of the native boys reported him as missing. The fellows in his room had tumbled his bed to make it look as if it had been slept in, so the boy had to make it as usual that morning, and in his absence from breakfast there was nothing very unusual, as he had for some time been irregular in his attendance at meals and often missed breakfast altogether. Evidently he had done this with the deliberate intention of putting the boys off the scent. However, one of them more alert than the rest noticed his absence from the midday meal, went in search of him, and the search being unavailing, reported to the Germans that he was nowhere to be found. Our first intimation of his flight came after dinner, when two of the German guards came round and looked into every room.

I and three others were playing bridge at the time, and we looked up in surprise at the unusual intrusion. But the guards merely glanced keenly around and then went out muttering to themselves, and as they had not said for what they were searching, I concluded they were only on a tour of inspection. However, a few minutes later the Askari guard was turned out and assembled in the courtyard just below our window, and, being able to overhear all that was said, we soon realised what had happened. Eight Askaris were chosen, and thirty rounds of ammunition served out to each man. Then they were instructed to scour the country in different directions, and if they should meet the Major they were to call upon him to stand and surrender. If he did not obey they were to challenge him again, and if he still refused they were to shoot him in the legs; if he showed fight he was to be shot through the head. But, above all, if any Askari came up with the fugitive he was not to return to the Boma without bringing him in, dead or alive.

We spent the rest of that day in discussing the Major’s chances of eventual escape, and we came to the optimistic conclusion that they were pretty good. He already had a fair start; he was used to African travel and could find his way in the bush—though nearly fifty he was fit and in fair condition; and we reckoned he would not have started without enough food to make him independent of the natives until he was well beyond the danger-zone. But it would mean a long tramp to the border—about three hundred miles.

For the next two days there was no news of him, and the Askaris returned after a fruitless search. The other Bomas and all the natives round had been warned to keep a sharp look-out, but since no trace had been reported we began to hope that he had successfully evaded all traps and was well on the way to the frontier.

Of course, we had all been “gated” as soon as the escape was discovered, but we did not care a rap for that. All the men in his room were severely cross-examined, and also every one of us who might possibly have any knowledge, but our gaolers were unable to glean any particulars, or find the remotest trace of a conspiracy.

Then, alas! on March 2nd, four days after his bold bid for liberty, news arrived at the Boma that our comrade had been captured in a native village about eight hours’ march away.... We were frightfully downcast. “Sloppy Joe” and half a dozen Askaris were sent off to bring him in, and the party returned the next morning. None of us were allowed in the courtyard, but we watched the arrival from our windows, and were relieved to see that the Major was walking, for we feared he might have tried to put up a fight and been badly injured, and should not have been surprised to see him brought back on a stretcher. However, since he was able to walk there could not be much amiss, although even from a distance we could see that his face was bruised and discoloured, and his clothing much torn.

Next day he asked to see a doctor, and I was taken into his cell. It appeared that in a scrimmage with the natives who took him prisoner he had sustained a broken rib, and this I fixed up for him; but as the Kommandant, who knew English, was present all the time, I had no chance to question him about his experiences. However, although he was not allowed out of his cell, thereafter I saw him daily, and in spite of the fact that one of the guards was almost invariably present, we at length managed to get in some brief conversations, and bit by bit I learned how it was that he had not succeeded in his enterprise. It would appear that he had miscalculated the effect of the February rains and had not allowed sufficient time for the water to subside; consequently he found himself held up by impassable swamps in places where he had anticipated no obstacle. This resulted in his having to retrace his steps over ground already traversed in order to try another route, so he had not been able to get out of the danger area around the Boma as soon as he had hoped. One night, almost before he was aware of it, he found himself walking into a native village. Putting a bold face on the matter, he went up to one of the huts to ask the way. As ill-luck would have it, two of our Askaris were in the village in plain clothes, and the Major did not spot them, but he soon noticed that there was much excited whispering going on, and the natives began closing around him in a manner distinctly threatening and hostile. For a little while he managed to face them and keep them at bay, but suddenly he became aware that someone was creeping up behind him. Swinging round, he knocked down the man who had been about to seize him, and then there was a regular rough-and-tumble; but in the end he was overcome by sheer weight of numbers. The natives brought hide-thongs and bound him so tightly that the bonds cut into his flesh and he could hardly breathe. Trussed up in this fashion, he was held until the escort arrived, and even then “Sloppy Joe” would only allow the bonds to be loosened; they were not finally removed until the party were almost in sight of the Boma. When I saw him he still bore marks of that brutal binding on his arms and legs.

* * * * *

A most disagreeable-looking official arrived to preside at the Major’s trial. His name was French, I believe; he was a tall man, very pale, with a cruel-looking mouth and shifty eyes.

The trial lasted for several days, and resulted in the prisoner being condemned to two months’ solitary confinement, his diet for part of the time being restricted to bread and water. But as all the evidence had to be examined in Morogoro, and he was kept in the cell until his case was decided, the period of his captivity was in reality much longer than that indicated in the sentence. In all he was what under the circumstances one might call a super-prisoner from March 3rd until May 21st.

When he was captured, a revolver and ammunition were found in the Major’s possession, and the Germans were mightily puzzled to imagine how and where he could have obtained either the one or the other. He naturally refused to answer any questions on the subject, and they did not believe it possible that the weapon could have been secreted in any of the prisoners’ boxes, as these had been regularly and thoroughly searched. In the past, when such searches were being conducted, all prisoners were assembled in the courtyard as though for a roll-call, and were kept standing there while some of the guards went through their boxes. If one of these was found locked, its owner was called up and had to empty it in the presence of the guard. A sequel to the Major’s escapade was that thenceforward, to facilitate search, and to prevent us from making use of any provisions or spare clothing, an order was issued that all boxes were to be locked up in the baggage store, and we were only allowed to keep out two suits, a change of underwear, one pair of boots or shoes, and one hat or helmet. The store was opened only on two days in the week, and then we were allowed access to our baggage; but everything that was taken out was carefully scrutinised by the German in charge, and before a pair of boots—or, indeed, any article of clothing—could be removed, a corresponding article had to be replaced.

At this time, too, all ropes and water-bottles were confiscated.

In the matter of the revolver suspicion fell upon the Indian traders in the village, and these wretched men were hauled up before the court and bullyingly interrogated, while their shops and houses were searched. But it was never discovered where the weapon came from, nor did they succeed in finding its pair.

A little later all our camp-beds were commandeered for the use of the Germans in the field, and native ones were provided to replace them. Those of the prisoners whose beds were their own property were required to give them up to the German Government. They were told that they would be paid a fair price, but no option was allowed in the matter. If anyone refused to sell his bed it was calmly confiscated. All the tin boxes were requisitioned in the same way, and we were given wooden packing-cases in which to keep our belongings. The Government decided the price to be paid for every article commandeered. Water-bottles were among the first things thus to be removed from our possession.