The Veiled Raiders Page 3

  “What’s your guess?” Scotty asked. “What’s this all about?”

  Tony shook his head. “I’m as much in the dark as anyone. These people aren’t typical Hausa-Fulanis like those ofKano , except for the Emir and Elijah, who are clearly Fulanis. There’s nothing in their cultural pattern that calls for kidnapping strangers-at least not now. Of course there was a time when slavery was a way ofMe .”

  “Maybe the Emir is longing for the good old days and plans to bring them back with us as a beginning,”

  Rick observed wryly.

  “Just how long ago was slavery the custom?” Scotty asked.

  Tony shrugged. “Officially, it stopped when the British occupiedNigeria around 1800. Actually, it Page 13

  continued for some time. There are stories in the Nigerian press even today, not often, but every once in a while, about some person being held in slavery. Of course I wouldn’t take such tales too seriously.Nigeria is really one of the most progressive countries inAfrica .”

  “Are we inNigeria ?” Rick queried.

  “Probably not.I got a brief look at the sun as it set, and it seemed to be farther south than it was last night. Of course it may have been an illusion. If we could see the North Star and estimate our latitude, I’d be able to say more accurately.”

  “We don’t know how far we traveled,” Scotty mused. “It seemed like a million miles. Probably it was closer to a hundred.”

  Tony disagreed. “More than that, I’d say. We were on the road nearly nine hours, and our average speed was probably somewhere around twenty miles an hour. We may have been carried nearly two hundred miles.”

  “We were supposedly picked up as we crossed the Emir’s southern boundary,” Rick recalled. “He must own quite a territory.”

  “Several thousand square miles wouldn’t be unreasonable,” Tony pointed out. “The Emirs governed the equivalent of large city-states before the British came. Then, following the British pattern of ruling through the existing machinery, the Emirs continued to rule the same lands under the British governors. After independence, the Emirs continued to exercise political influence. What I’m wondering is: Is our host a genuine, recognized Emir or is he a self-styled potentate who is running an essentially outlaw kingdom?”

  “Unless we can get out of here,” Scotty said practically, “it won’t make much difference.”

  “Nothing we can do tonight, anyway,” Tony said wearily. “Let’s turn in. We all need rest to recover from the beating we took. Tomorrow we can start to plan.”

  The sleeping bags were comfortable, even on the hard-packed dirt floor. Rick’s bruises protested for only a short time before he drifted off into the borderland between sleep and waking.

  There was no way of telling what time zone they were in, but if they were onKano time, and if it was about nine thirty in the evening, then it would be around five thirty in the afternoon onSpindriftIsland . In his half-sleeping condition Rick saw vividly two slim, attractive girls emerging from the cool waters of theAtlantic . His sister Barby and their island neighbor, Jan Miller, had been scuba diving off Pirate’s Cove. Rick saw them load their gear into the cart he had made from an old wagon, and haul it up past the long, low laboratory buildings of the Spindrift Foundation. His father came out of the lab and joined the girls.

  The trio walked past Rick’s plane, the Sky Wagon, and along the orchard to the big house. It was close to dinnertime.

  Rick’s dream deepened and changed as he fell fast asleep, and when he awoke, stiff and sore, to the first light of pale morning through a high slit he had not noticed the night before, he could not have said what his dreams were about.

  He sat up with a groan and massaged a particularly bad bruise on one thigh. Next to him Scotty stirred, opened his eyes, then closed them again, sighing. Tony turned over and muttered to himself.

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  “Morning has come,” Rick announced unnecessarily.

  “I wish it hadn’t,” Scotty groaned.

  “At least not so soon,” Tony amended. “There’s no reason to get up until they rouse us out. I’m staying in this bag until called.”

  Scotty got up, stretching cautiously. He began a careful investigation of their cell in the dim light. Rick watched from the warmth of his sleeping bag. Nights were cold in this sub-Saharan region. With cloudless skies, heat radiated off rapidly during the night, and was absorbed with equal rapidity during the day. The result was blistering days-100 degrees in the shade was not unusual-and chilly nights, often near fifty or even lower.

  “Door hinges on the outside,” Scotty reported. “The door is too massive to break down. I saw last night that it’s held by a big iron bolt that runs between iron straps. There isn’t much of a crack, either. The door is a tight fit. No chance of working the bolt back from this side. That leaves the walls.”

  “And we might as well leave them alone,” Tony finished. “We’re underground, except for a foot or so at the top-at least that’s my conclusion from what I saw last night and can see now. The wall in which the door is set could only be moved with crowbars and sledge hammers.”

  Scotty continued his inch-by-inch inspection of the cell while Rick and Tony watched. Finally the husky ex-Marine gave up and stretched out on his sleeping bag.

  “I’d find this a lot more bearable,” Scotty said, “if I knew what it was all about.”

  Rick heard the creak of a door in the distance and held up his hand. “Wait a minute. Someone may be coming.”

  Someone was. Red Turban pulled back the bolt and swung the door open. He was not alone. Two rifles at ready backed him up. He motioned the three to leave the cell and follow him. They did, the rifles at their backs.

  The Spindrift trio blinked in the sunlight of the courtyard. The harmattan was not blowing today and the sky was a clear, pale blue. The sun was already above the horizon, a fiery ball blasting heat energy at them in a ceaseless wave.

  Red Turban led them to an old-fashioned pump and motioned to them to use it. They did so, splashing water with the pleasure of men too-long deprived of it. The next move was to a corner of the courtyard where two dozen native men in assorted dress ranging from old dungarees to flowing agbada squatted in the shade of the wall, waiting. Red Turban motioned them to seats with the others. The three hunkered down like experienced hands and waited in silence.

  Presently six women appeared from the house, carrying trays. It was breakfast time. The morning menu consisted of cassava paste, inedibly seasoned with peppers, and the welcome blessing of fruit. There were papayas, called papaws locally, with oranges and bananas.

  The fruit was refreshing, and filling. The three ate well, then waited for the next move. It was a trip to the pump for a drink, then back to the wall again to hunker down and wait.

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  Elijah came forth, and with him was a man who looked like an Arab, complete with burnoose. Cold eyes stared at the three from a face seamed and leathered by the desert sun. The eyes were gray, the color scarcely darker than the whites. The man carried a long bullwhip coiled in his hand.

  “This is Hamid,” Elijah stated without preliminaries. “He is the overseer. You will work for him, along with these others. He speaks no English, nor any other European language, so it will be useless to argue with him. Do precisely as you are directed and you will have no trouble. If you do not perform well, Hamid knows how to be persuasive.”

  “I demand to know the meaning of this,” Tony said coldly. “First we are made prisoners and brought here, and now we are to be put to work. What is all this?”

  “This is the Emir’s land. He needs strong men to work for him. It is your good fortune to be chosen.

  Now, follow me. Since mercy is the Emir’s wish, I will explain what Hamid expects of you. But I will explain only once.”

  A gesture of Tony’s hand told the boys to be quiet. They fell into line behind Elijah, while the overseer commanded the others to follow. The guards brought up the rear.

  El
ijah led the procession out of the yard and into a vast field dominated by two great pyramids. As they got closer, Rick saw that the pyramids were made of fiber bags stacked with mathematical precision in such a way that their contents could air.

  Next to the pyramids were piles of empty sacks. Elijah pointed to them. “These sacks are to be filled with groundnuts. Each is to contain exactly one hundred kilos. When you have filled a sack, you will put it in the place Hamid directs, then go fill another. There are scales on which the sacks are to be weighed. If you work well, you will be fed well. If you do not work well, Hamid carries the punishment with him.And now good day to you. I will see this evening how well you have worked.”

  There was nothing to say in reply. It was all too fantastic. To be captured, and put to work as field hands!

  Rick asked dazedly, “How much is one hundred kilos? I forget.”

  “About 2.2 pounds per kilo.So a hundred kilos is about 220 pounds,” Tony replied.

  Elijah turned back. “I neglected to tell you this: The three of you will work together, and you will fill and stack at least one bag each hour. You will work each day for no more and no less than ten hours.”

  “What are groundnuts?” Scotty asked.

  For answer, Tony stooped and pulled a nut from the nearest ground vine and held it up.

  “Peanuts,” Rick exclaimed.“Peanuts!”

  Scotty groaned. “Ten sacks at one hundred kilos each.More than a ton of peanuts a day.”

  Rick shook his head. “The only cheerful thing I can think of is that I like elephants, and a ton of peanuts should keep a lot of them happy.”

  Hamid’s bullwhip sang through the air and snapped like a pistol shot. He motioned to the sacks, and the Page 16

  gesture said, “Get busy.”

  The first day had begun.

  CHAPTER V

  The Emir Hones a Grudge

  The groundnuts, Rick thought, were well named. They grew on the ground. They grew flat on the ground. They grew on tangled vines on the ground. It took him and the others something less than two hours to swear vengeance on all peanuts. They vowed that every peanut they possessed from then on would be fed to squirrels and elephants.

  The vines tangled their feet, and bending to pick the nuts from the stubborn vines soon started their backs to aching. To kneel meant kneeling on the ever-present vines,which was like kneeling on a length of cord.

  It was grueling, backbreaking labor and they hated it. But when the boys flagged, Tony urged them to better efforts. “We have a quota,” he said. “Be realistic. You saw Hamid’s eyes. He would no more hesitate to use that lash on us than he would on a steer. In fact, he’d probably prefer it.”

  “He’d better not use that lash,” Scotty said flatly.

  “If he does,” Tony told him firmly, “we will take it with no attempt to retaliate. The reason is obvious.

  We’re slaves-field hands. If you go for his throat, the guards will have no hesitation in shooting. If you survive, you may be sorry because of the unpleasantries these people can think up.”

  “But we’re not going to put up with this!” Rick exploded.

  “You’re right. We’re not. But the time has not yet come. We have to plan. Now pick nuts. Let’s meet that quota.”

  They met it, but just barely, even by resuming work while the others rested after lunch. When Hamid gave the signal to return to the main compound, they were so exhausted that walking was difficult, and they were stooped like old men. Rick’s back muscles were like hot wires, and he could tell that Scotty and Tony were in no better shape. All three prided themselves on keeping fit, but picking groundnuts called into play many muscles not subject to such abuse under any normal condition.

  Dinner was not edible. It was meat and fish, so saturated in hot peppers and spices that the lips turned numb after a few nibbles. They drank quantities of water, then shambled to their cell and were locked in for the night.

  The second day of picking groundnuts was worse. During themidday pause they counted.Only four bags. That meant six during the afternoon. Rick didn’t voice his doubt that they could make it.

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  The harmattan was not blowing, and the sun was a burning disk that drew the water from their bodies, parched their throats, and made their unprotected heads throb. The other workers picked and sacked peanuts methodically, working like machines. They were used to the work, and inured to the blazing sun.

  They drank only at mealtimes, while Tony and the boys had to make frequent trips to the goatskin water bag.

  Hamid thought they spent too much time and used too much water in the trips to the bag. Once he waved Rick away, but the boy pointed to his parched throat and the Arab allowed him to drink. Hamid was a son of the desert, and used to little water. He couldn’t understand that people accustomed to as much as they wanted would soon grow dehydrated if their normal quantity was cut off too abruptly.

  Scotty was the unfortunate one when Hamid finally lost patience. Rick looked up in time to see the Arab’s lash whistle down in a sharp cut across the boy’s back as he bent to drink. Rick held his breath, then poised to run to Scotty’s side. He had seen Scotty explode for far less, and when the ex-Marine lost his temper, there was sudden and violent action.

  Beside Rick, Tony tensed, ready to jump in if Scotty reacted. But Rick was never prouder of his friend.

  He saw Scotty take a deep breath, then stand upright, turn, and walk toward them without a word or gesture to Hamid.

  When Scotty arrived his face was chalk white under the tan and he had bit his lips until a trickle of blood ran down his chin, but he was under control.

  “I’m proud of you,” Tony said gently. “Let’s see your back.”

  Scotty turned wordlessly. The whip had cut a slash through his shirt and a shorter tear in his T-shirt, but the skin was unbroken, fortunately. A swelling welt a foot long showed where the lash had connected. It continued to swell as they examined it.

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Scotty said through clenched teeth. “Let’s pick nuts. We want to make that quota-that bullwhip is no fun.”

  They made the quota, but Rick and Tony refused to let Scotty help lift the one-hundred-kilo bags.

  Together, they wrestled them into place and apparently succeeded in pleasing Hamid because he took no action against them.

  At dinnertime Tony demanded to see Elijah by repeating his name until the guard sent one of the workers to the big house. When the majordomo appeared, Tony said briskly, “Hamid lashed this boy.

  We want ointment for him, and we want it now.”

  Elijah smiled. “I did not think you were in a position to demand anything.”

  Mild Tony Briotti, who was often lost in contemplation of some antiquity and who never raised his voice, smiled back, and even Rick shuddered at the deadly quality of that smile. “I wouldn’t want you to make a mistake,” Tony said gently. “We are under the guns of your guard, and our lives are forfeit ifyour Emir so decides. But we are patient, and we never forget. There will come a time when you are close to us and our patience ends. Then you will die, very suddenly and unpleasantly. We may die a moment later, but you, being dead, will not care.”

  It was Elijah who lost the battle of eyes. He gave an unconvincing chuckle. “You would not be so foolish.” The tone of his voice told Rick the majordomo knew they were capable of being exactly that Page 18

  foolish if pushed hard enough. “But we are not unpleasant people,” Elijah continued, “and we do not wish to cause unnecessary pain. After all, it is to our advantage to have you in good condition to work. I will see that you get the medication you need.”

  “Thank you,” Tony said, and turned away.

  Scotty grinned as the majordomo made a dignified exit. He shook his head in admiration. “You weren’t kidding, either.”

  “No,” Tony agreed. “I wasn’t kidding.”

  Perhaps their palates were getting used to the fiery food, because they managed to swall
ow a few bites of the meat and eat a fair quantity of the rice. During supper a jar of ointment and some clean cloths arrived, along with one of Scotty’s own shirts to replace the one torn by the lash.

  Rick awoke once during the night and applied more of the ointment to Scotty’s back. The boy groaned in his sleep but never moved. That told Rick more than anything else that his pal was in poor shape, because Scotty was the type who awakens instantly, in full possession of his faculties. But when morning came Scotty insisted he was able to work. He stripped and Rick poured water over his back, noting that the swelling had subsided and only an angry red line remained. More ointment was applied, then the three took their toothbrushes from their pockets along with combs and soap, and finished their cleanup. Their toilet kits-plastic zippered bags-had arrived with breakfast and they were grateful. Apparently Elijah had become thoughtful after Tony’s forceful warning.

  It was during breakfast that they really began to plan for escape. The key, all agreed, was water.

  Without it, no plan was practical.

  Hamid was late, and they leaned against the gate to the groundnut fields and talked over various plans, all impractical. They had no water containers. Locating some that could be acquired was an essential first step.

  “We’re learning to get along on lowered water rations,” Tony remarked. He played idly with a loose spike in the gate. “I wonder what the minimum per man per day would be after we’ve been here for a while.”

  “A quart?”Scotty guessed.

  “Possibly.Especially if we traveled by night andlaid up under cover by day.”

  “How do we get out of our cell?” Rick asked practically.

  Tony’s fingers stopped playing with the spike. He bent swiftly and examined it, then straightened up again. “Tonight when we eat, take positions right here. This spike is loose enough to work out. It could be the answer to that question.”

  Hamid arrived and the group trooped to the groundnut fields. The dreadful work started again, but it was easier than on the two previous days. They were getting used to it. But a new problem in meeting their quota developed. The groundnut crop was almost harvested, and it was necessary to cover more ground to collect a sackful of nuts.