CHAPTER XXXIII
CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
AFTER all excitement of the gin-house fire had quieted down, neither Lyttleton nor McDonald could remember anything unusual in Zack's movements during the early hours of the night. They agreed in recalling that after dinner Zack had put on his blue slouch hat, and sat upon the top step, while they were talking with Colonel Spottiswoode on the porch. Some evenings he sat there nodding until the white men went to bed; sometimes he got up and drifted aimlessly away. The British officers tried in vain to recollect what Zack had done on that particular night.
Thirty years of Sudan campaigning had made Lyttleton a light sleeper. It was he who, in the dead still hours, first heard the alarming cry of "Nar! Nar!"—Fire—from an Arab watchman on the barge. Lyttleton had raised on his cot, then broke through the mosquito bar, just as McDonald bounded out of bed. At that moment both of them heard Zack's voice in the next room, saying: "Git up, Cunnel! Git up! Ev'ything's afire!"
"The gin! The gin!" Lyttleton shouted back as he ran. Colonel Spottiswoode and McDonald immediately followed Lyttleton across the open space, toward the unpainted corrugated iron building. McDonald had gained Lyttleton' s side while Zack and the Colonel ran behind.
"Harak! Harak!" shrieked the Arab watchman to Mahomet Mansour. Not understanding Arabic, Colonel Spottiswoode did not know why both the Britishers turned and looked accusingly at Zack, for "Harak" in Arabic means "he burned," and that's what the watchman was saying. Zack darted ahead, puffing, excited and shouting, "Gin's done gone. Whole inside's in a light blaze."
Swarms of Shilluks came tumbling from their tukuls, jabbering and screaming. Some of them trembled at what their king might do, others exulted when the whites were not looking.
The gin being isolated, there was no danger to other buildings. "We can put it out," panted the Colonel, and men were sent running to the river. Zack grabbed the first bucket—"Here, Side, take dis bucket an' run—run!" Whilst returning with his water, Said fell and spilled it.
Yet they formed a bucket line and worked like mad, putting out the fire which had gained little headway before being discovered.
"Well," remarked the Colonel, wiping the sweat and ashes from his face, "that's the only gin-house I ever knew to be saved."
"But our machinery is ruined." And Lyttleton Bey swore in every language that he knew.
"Oh, no. She'll be running in a week," the Colonel insisted.
"Not a chance," said McDonald. "We'll have to order new parts from Alexandria. That'll take three months, or three years—Egypt is so damnably slow."
"Den us kin go home, can't us, Cunnel?" Zack's quivering voice put in.
Not trusting himself close enough to hear an answer from the American Effendi, Said noted the suspicious glances which passed between those two Ingleezi. Lyttleton Bey started to speak out at once, then changed his mind and inquired:
"How do you suppose it caught?"
He and McDonald asked their question together, and addressed it to the Colonel, yet both the Britishers looked at Zack for a reply.
"Can't imagine. There was no fire about the place. Zack, you were near the gin last night?"
"Yas suh, Cunnel," the negro admitted with surprising promptitude. "Yas suh. I come over to dis gin 'bout bed time, an' 'twarn't a spark nowhar. It's mighty curyous to git afire jes' whilst I was sayin' I wisht it would burn. Ain't dat like a nigger, to be shootin' off his mouf' 'bout sumpin' what warn't none o' his business?"
And yet Colonel Spottiswoode suspected nothing, even when Lyttleton and McDonald noddingly agreed that it was a sinister coincidence. With apparent innocence old Zack rambled on: "Dese Afriky niggers don't smoke cigarettes, an' tain't no matches in de seed cotton what'll ketch fire when it runs through de gin stan'. Dat's de onlies' way I ever heard of a gin house burnin' 'cept when somebody sot 'em afire like dat nigger—dat's it. Dat's it. He's de ve'y nigger what done it."
"No, he didn't, he's dead," McDonald spoke savagely.
"Well, maybe some o' his kinfolks sot it afire, to git even 'bout him bein' kilt."
The Colonel had heard of many such instances at home, so he asked quickly, "Major Lyttleton, what do you think of that?"
"It was not a Shilluk. They won't try it again."
"Why did they try it the first time?"
"Superstition. To them this gin represents a great devil of hunger, which their king compels them to feed. A Shilluk tries to kill this devil by fire. Fire can't harm him. Shilluk never try it again. That's the whole story."
The gin had been removed from Zack's path, and by next morning he had quit studying about it. In his home-going khaki suit he strode like a grenadier sentinel guarding the Hot Cat.
"We's gwine home, Side; we's gwine home," he exulted.
Having already loaded the Colonel's heavy luggage on the barge, Zack was now watching for the gunboat Nasir, and expounding vivacious wisdom to Said. "Tain't no use talking Side, luck can't run agin' you all de time. It's boun' to turn." Zack haw-hawed aggressively, waved his farewell to the buildings and fields of Wadi Okar, then erupted in a tumult of song.
"By-by, my honey, I'm stuck on yo' money.
By-by, my honey, I'm gone."
During this merriment Said mended his nets with nervous fingers, until Zack plumped himself down on the bench and began whistling in full-throated delight. For a moment Said's cunning eye searched the river bank, and scanned the quarters, then, creeping closer, he crouched at the Black Effendi's knee. "Excellency, Illustrious One," he whispered, scooping a hole in the sand which he covered with a sweep of his palm, then scooped out again as Zack's melodious soul went floating up to heaven in one long rag-time jubilate.
"My wife's high-minded,
She's double-jinted"
"Excellency! Saadat!" Said touched him ever so gently on the knee, and pointed to that hole in the sand, "Saadat may put money—down there—and walk off." Zack glanced down uncomprehendingly at the hole, while he kept patting his foot and singing:
"I can't control her;
"Scan'lize ma name."
"Excellency! Saadat! put money there—walk off."
"Huh?"
"Money—there," again the Dongalawi pointed.
"Side, you knows 'tain't no money comin' to you. Cunnel done paid yo' wages."
"Not wages." Said moved closer, confidentially; "for that—last night."
"Huh!"
"Saadat agree put twenty gold pieces on ground and walk off if Said up-burn gin factory. Said do."
"Side do which? Come clean wid me, nigger."
"Said up-burn gin factory. So excellency go home. Put money there—walk off."
"You done specify dat fo' er five times. What you talkin' 'bout? Who sot fire to dat gin?"
Said nodded virtuously and turned both index fingers to his own breast—"I, Said Wad Darho."
smiling the blandest of smiles, with sharp white teeth like the teeth of a hound.
"You? You? You sot fire to Cunnel's gin?"
"Aiwah! Illustrious Effendi agree pay twenty piece gold. Put there."
"Side, you's a stark naked plum fool; I never 'spected you to sot fire to dat gin, sho' nuff. Can't you tell when I'm talkin' jes' to hear my tongue rattle?"