A Natural Grave

: The Great White Queen

THE single shot from our opponents was quickly replied to by myself and

my companions, and we had the satisfaction of seeing half-a-dozen Arabs

fall backward from the path and disappear in the soft sand. Instantly the

rattle of musketry was deafening, and over my head bullets whistled

unpleasantly close. The weapon with which I was armed was old-fashioned,

and as I fired it time after time it grew hot, and the smoke became so

thick that everything was obscured.



Meanwhile fierce hand-to-hand fighting was taking place between the

vanguard of the Arabs and a dozen of our men led by Omar. Fiendish yells

and shouts sounded on every side as they hacked at each other with their

long curved knives, each fearing to step aside lest he should be

swallowed by the sand. Once or twice, as the chill night wind parted the

smoke, I saw Omar and our Dagombas struggling bravely against fearful

odds. Omar had cast aside his gun and, armed with a keen jambiyah, had

engaged two tall, muscular Arabs, both of whom he succeeded in hurling

from the path, gashed and bleeding, to instant death.



Those behind him, armed with long spears with flat double-edged points

similar to the assegais of the Zulus, were enabled to reach and dispatch

several of the Arabs who had lost their guns or discarded their pistols

for their knives. Situated as we were on the angle of the secret path the

enemy were to our right. Their fire upon us was very hot and effective.

Their aim was so true and their bullets so deadly, that very soon fully a

dozen of our brave escort had sunk wounded, disappearing in the terrible

sea of sand.



Suddenly a noise sounded about me like the swish of the sea, startling me

for a second, but instantly I saw what had caused it. The Dagombas had

let loose a flight of poisoned arrows upon our opponents.



From that moment their fire became weaker, and time after time my

companions, kneeling upon the ground, drew their bows and released those

terrible darts, the slightest scratch from which produced tetanus and

almost instant death. Each arrow was smeared with a dark red substance,

and their deadly effect was sufficiently proved by the manner in which

the ranks of Samory's men were soon decimated. Dozens of Arabs, touched

by the poisonous darts, staggered unevenly, and falling to earth sank

into the unstable sand, while the red flash of their line of muskets

visibly decreased.



Around Omar our men pressed valiantly, and several with bows discharged

their missiles with fatal effect, sweeping away the Arabs one by one and

apparently striking terror into the hearts of the others. Arabs are not

so vulnerable by arrows as other people on account of their voluminous

robes, which savage weapons seldom penetrate, it being only head, legs

and hands that arrows can reach. Nevertheless so full were the quivers of

our sable escort, that the flights were of sufficient magnitude to reach

the unprotected parts of the Arabs and lay dozens of them low.



One native next me, whose bow had constantly been bent, suddenly received

a bullet full in the breast and was knocked backward off his feet by the

concussion. So swiftly was he swallowed by the shifting sand, that ere I

could glance behind he had already been buried. Of all who fell, not a

single body remained, for if they dropped dead upon the path they were

pushed aside in the melee and instantly disappeared. Again and again

our companions sent up their shrill yells and the war-drum was thumped

with ear-piercing effect, while opposition shouts rose from our Arab

enemies. Still the fight continued as stubborn as it had begun. Omar,

with loud shouts of encouragement, fought on with unerring hand, cutting,

thrusting and hacking at his opponents until they stumbled to their doom,

while across our line of vision where the fire of Arab musketry blazed in

the choking smoke, the thin deadly arrows sped, striking our enemies and

sweeping them into a natural grave.



Fearing to tread lest I should fall into the terrible quicksand, I knelt

and kept up a continuous fire with my musket, shooting into the dense

smoke whenever I saw the flash of an Arab gun. It was exciting work, not

knowing from one second to another whether the ping of a bullet would

bring death. Still I knew that to save our own lives we must sweep away

the host of invaders, and, reassured by the knowledge that Omar had met

with no mishap, I kept on, heedless of all dangers, thinking only of the

ultimate rout of our enemy.



How long the terrible fight lasted I know not. We stood our ground, the

majority of us kneeling, engaging the Arabs in mortal combat for, I

believe, considerably over an hour. Several times the firing seemed so

strong that I feared we should be vanquished, nevertheless the Dagombas

proved themselves a valiant, stubborn race, well versed in savage

warfare, for the manner in which they shot their arrows was admirable,

and even at the decisive moment when all seemed against us they never

wavered, but kept on, fierce and revengeful as in the first moments of

the fight.



Gradually, when Omar's voice had been heard a dozen times urging us on to

sweep every invader from our path and not to let a single man escape, we

found our enemy's fire slackening. The smoke, moved by the sand-laden

wind that swept across the plain each night after sundown, became less

dense, and at last we realized that the tide of battle had turned in our

favour, and that we were conquerors.



Then, loud fierce yells rose from the Dagombas and with one accord we

struggled to our feet. Each with his hand upon the shoulder of his

companion in front we moved cautiously forward, shooting now and then as

we went. But the reply to our fire was now spasmodic, and we were

convinced that only a few of the Arabs survived.



For some minutes we ceased the struggle and moved forward, but suddenly,

to our amazement, a long line of muskets again blazed forth upon us,

committing serious havoc in our ranks. We were victims of a ruse!



This aroused the anger of the Dagombas, who recommenced the fight with

almost demoniacal fierceness, and as the van of both forces struggled

hand-to-hand, we found ourselves slowly but surely gaining ground until

half an hour later we were standing upon the path where our enemies had

stood when they had attacked us, and of that long line of Samory's picked

fighting-men not a single survivor remained.



We had given no quarter. All had been swallowed in that awful gulf of

ever-shifting sand. When we had thoroughly convinced ourselves of this we

threw ourselves down upon the narrow pathway, and slept heavily till

dawn.



When I awoke and gazed eagerly around, I saw that although a number of

our men were wounded, their limbs being hastily bandaged, yet few were

missing. Of our enemies, however, all had either fallen wounded, or had

been hurled from the secret path and overwhelmed by the sand.



A high wind constantly blew, and I noticed that this kept the grains of

sand always in motion, thus preventing the surface from solidifying.

Waves appeared every moment, ever changing and disappearing in a manner

amazing. At one moment a high ridge would be seen before us, appearing as

a formidable obstacle to our progress, yet a moment later it would be

swept away by an invisible force.



The rosy flush of dawn had been superseded by the saffron tints that are

precursory of the sun's appearance when we moved forward again on our

cautious march. Our companions, though far from fresh and many of them

seriously wounded, were all in highest spirits and full of their

brilliant victory. It had indeed been a gratifying achievement, and now,

feeling that at least their gods were favourable to their journey, they

pushed forward with eyes scanning the far-off horizon where lay the

mysterious realm.



During our march that day, Kona, the headman of the Dagombas, on account

of three men behind me having fallen in the fight, occupied a place

immediately at my rear, and thus I was enabled to hold conversation with

him.



"It was a near thing, that fight last night," he exclaimed in the

language that Omar had taught me. "But our arrows wrought surer execution

than the Arab bullets. The desert-dwellers are no match for the

forest-people."



"No," I answered. "Your men are indeed brave fellows, and are entitled to

substantial reward."



"I have no fear of that," he said. "The great Naya is always just. She

stretches forth her powerful hand to protect the weaker tribes, and

smites the raiders with sword and pestilence. What her son promises is

her promise. Her word is never broken."



"Have you ever seen her?" I inquired.



"Never. Our king once saw one of her messengers who brought the royal

staff and made palaver. To us, as to all other men outside her country,

she is known as the Great White Queen."



"Tell me what more you know of her?" I urged.



"Very little," he answered. "In every part of the land, from the great

black waters to the Niger and far beyond, even to the sun-scorched

country of the Maghrib, her fame is known to all men. She is rich, mighty

and mysterious. Her power is dreaded throughout the forests and the

grass-plains, and it is said that in her wrath her voice is so terrible

that even the mountains quake with fear."



"By what means do her fighting-men come forth from her unapproachable

land?" I inquired, remembering that we were travelling by the secret way

known only to herself and Omar.



"I know not," he replied. "The manner in which the hosts of Mo appear and

disappear have, from time immemorial, formed a subject of speculation

among our people. That they have appeared on the Ashanti border and

sacked and burned many towns in retaliation for some outrages committed

by the Ashantis upon our people is well-known, but by what route they

came or returned is a mystery. Some say they came like flocks of birds

through the air; others declare that they can transfer themselves from

one place to another and become invisible at will. Neither of these

theories I myself believe, for I am convinced that between the land of Mo

and the Great Salt Road there exists a secret means of communication, so

that the armies of the Naya can appear so suddenly and unexpectedly as to

escape the vigilance of their enemy's scouts. Many are the battles they

have fought and great the slaughter. In the slave-land of Samory they

engaged twelve moons ago the pick of the Arab army, and defeated them

with appalling loss. It is said, too, that they carry some of the strange

guns made by your people, the white men."



"You mean Maxims," I said.



"I know not their name, nor have I ever seen one," he answered. "I have

heard, however, from a Sofa who fought against the English in the last

war, that the weapons are so light that a man can easily carry one, and

that when fired they shed streams of bullets like water from a spout. A

single gun is equal to the fire of two hundred men. Truly you white men

possess many marvels."



"Yes," I said, smiling at his unbounded admiration for the weapon. "But

is it not strange that the Naya should also possess similar marvels?"



"No. Everything is strange in the land of the Great White Queen. It is

said to be a country full of amazing mysteries. Many are the

extraordinary stories related by my people of the wonders of Mo; wonders

that we shall ere long witness with our own eyes."



"What are the stories?" I asked, keenly interested. "Tell me one."



"There are so many," he answered, "I do not know which one to tell. One,

however, will illustrate the awe with which the Naya is regarded, even by

the powerful Prempeh, King of Ashanti. A story is current that one day,

many moons ago, the King had ordered a great 'custom' to take place in

Kumassi. War had been declared against the Queen of the English, and in

order to obtain the good graces of the fetish a thousand slaves were

ordered to be sacrificed. All was ready and the king sat upon his stool

awaiting the decapitation of the first victim, when suddenly there swept

down from above a large white dove, which, after circling for a moment

above the monarch's umbrella, perched upon the edge of the execution

bowl. The executioner swept it aside with his ready sword, but in an

instant, by some invisible power, the broad-bladed weapon fused and

melted as if in a furnace, while the executioner himself, struck down as

if by lightning, fell upon his face stone dead. Still the dove remained

where it had perched with its head turned towards the ruler of the

Ashantis. A second executioner, ere it was discovered that the first was

dead, struck at the bird with his hand, and he too, as well as a third

and fourth, were similarly smitten with death. 'It is an evil omen!' the

people cried, and Prempeh, his eyes rivetted upon the white,

innocent-looking bird, trembled. Suddenly, one of the sages at the king's

right hand cried: 'See, O Master! It is the Great White Queen, the ruler

of Mo! She taketh the form of a dove when she seeketh the destruction of

her enemies!' Then spake the dove, saying: 'Yea, O hated king who

sheddeth the blood of the innocent and exalteth the guilty. The sacrifice

of victims to the fetish shall not avail thee, for I, Naya of Mo, tell

thee that thy downfall is at hand, and thine enemies the English will

press their way from the great sea, bridge the Prah, and cut a road

across the great forest to this thy capital, where thou shalt make abject

submission to their head-man and shall be carried into degrading

captivity by them. Thy treasures shall be seized, the tombs of thy

fathers shall be opened and desecrated, thy fetish-trees shall be cut

down and thy slaves shall revel in thy palace. And it is I, in my present

form, who shall guide the white men unto their victory.' The king,

dumbfounded at these ominous words proceeding from the beak of a bird,

rose to retort, but ere a word left his mouth the dove spread its wings

and flew away northward in the direction of the land we are now

approaching."



"That's merely a tale," I observed, laughing at this latest illustration

of the African's belief in the impossible.



"Of course. You asked me for one of the stories told by our people," Kona

said. "I have told you one."



"Do you believe that this Great White Queen is invested with such

extraordinary power that she can cause herself to be invisible, and while

bringing destruction to her enemies, assist her friends?" I asked.



"I know not what to believe," he replied in honest bewilderment. "So many

are the tales I have heard that I find it impossible to believe all, and

have ended by disbelieving most. Many of the men with us firmly believe

at this moment that the Naya, invisible, is at our head guiding her son

across the Way of the Thousand Steps, and that to her our victory last

night was due. Our fate lies in her hands."



"Well," I answered, amused, "it matters not who leads us so long as we

enter the promised land. At any rate we could have no better nor more

trustworthy guide than he who is at our head."



Next second, a loud cry from Omar attracted our attention.