Zelamir

Out of Africa

Chapter I

So far as he was concerned after four years at last he was coming home. He had protested loudly when on his eighth birthday Uncle Robert had told him he was sending him to school in England. He had argued strongly that the country was Uncle Robert's and Auntie Janes' country so why was it not also his. But Uncle Robert had been firm, firmer than he had ever known him to be in the past. He said that David was not his son but the son of his brother who had been killed serving in the British army. He owed it to his brother to see that David grew up to be British.

So in the end David had to say a tearful goodbye to his friends, which he did in the derivative of Swahili which was the local language and which at that stage he spoke a good deal more fluently than English. Auntie Jane had taken him on the train down to the coast and had handed him over to a nice lady in a uniform who was very kind and looked after him on the plane to Johannesburg. There he was handed over to another lady who also made a fuss of him and took him up to the pilots cabin and saw him safely into the hands of an Aunt Mary in London whom he had never before seen in his life, that he could remember anyway.

For four years he had lived in England, during term time boarding at his prep school in Kent, in the holidays staying with Auntie Mary and other strangers who in one way or another were related to him. He was not unkindly treated. During the holidays the people in whose charge he was did their best to keep him happy and occupied. In term time he was only beaten very occasionally and was not bullied to any great extent. Indeed if he had remained with his Uncle he would very probably been beaten some what more often for the people of the country believed that young boys needed to be kept in order. He would not however have been bullied at all; that was something that did not happen there.

He did not think of his Aunt and Uncle and his home in Africa all the time. He was kept much too busy for that. But when he found himself at a loose end and in particular as the long summer holidays approached he would remember and would painfully write letters pleading with them both that this time, at least, he should be allowed to visit home. How much unhappiness these letters caused the two old people David was never to know. What he got back on every occasion were two letters, one from his Aunt the other from his Uncle, full of common sense and kindness, telling him that it was too far, that he had to learn love his new home just as he loved his old one and suggesting that he was a lucky boy to have two homes to love. David would take the letters into the toilet, the only place in the school where he could find privacy, cry over them a bit and tell himself that he would certainly get home not this summer but next.

Masoua had had a fortunate history and was indeed a happy and pleasant country in which to live. Isolated by mountains and deserts, without oil diamonds or gold it all but escaped colonialism although missionaries brought Christianity and the people called their children by Christian names. It was briefly under British rule but attained it's independence with out any need for an armed struggle. The lack of resources that had made it unattractive as a colony also meant that it was not envied by it's neighbours While other states were building armies the Malouans declared that the priorities were agriculture, health and education. There was a small armed police force to keep cattle raiders from the North in check and a citizens army which would give e a good account of itself once mobilised but which required three or four days for this to be achieved.

Uncle Robert, a medical doctor, was recruited as part of the initial public health drive and married the lady, who thus became David's Aunty Jane, who had been engaged as part of a team to train local girls as nurses.

David as he looked out of his train window with mounting excitement was only vaguely aware of this political background. What he did know was that he was coming home to the place where he had been happy.

The train hooted swung round a bend in the track and ground to a halt. It was the end of the line and of David's journey. He swung the door open and leapt out onto the wooden platform. A few yards away stood Uncle Robert slightly more bent than when he had seen him last but otherwise unchanged. A young fit looking African was standing talking to him earnestly.

David was a little surprised that none of his friends had come to greet him. He thought Michael at least would have made it. He knew his uncle would have given him a lift to the station if he had asked. Still he was home and there was probably some very good explanation for Michael's absence. He ran down the platform to greet his Uncle. His case he left for the moment in the carriage. They could collect it later. The train was going nowhere until the next morning when it would trundle slowly down the track back to the coast.

As he approached the two men he noticed they were both carrying side arms. This was most unusual. The only people generally who carried arms in Maloua were the police. He also saw both men were looking very serious.

"Hello David," the younger man said. "You remember me your big brother Mark." It was common for Malouan men to refer to themselves as the big brother of any young boy they came across, especially if there was some sort of family friendship involved.

"Michael's eldest brother," David said. "Where is Michael?"

"Michael would be hear if he could David, but he was sent East with all the other children and most of the women this morning. There's been a big incursion from the North and I'm afraid you're getting straight back on that train and going back to the coast. The train is off this instant"

"I've only just come. Why? I'll be all right. You'll see."

"I'm sorry David," Uncle Robert said tightly. "Mark is right. It's back to the coast with you. A man from the British Embassy will meet you at the station. It's all arranged."

Uncle Robert seemed suddenly to see something intensely interesting on the horizon to the North and turned his back on David and the platform to study it.

Mark took David by the arm and walked him back down the platform to his carriage.

"David", he said. "Don't make a fuss. I know you're upset but can't you see your Uncle is as well? Come on into the carriage with you. When this is all over you can come here again. Why I'll come to England to fetch you myself if necessary."

David bit his lip and blinked his eyes. He got back into the carriage.

"I can come back when it's over?"

"Yes. Have I ever lied to you?"

"What is it?" Mark said to the railway clerk who had appeared at his side.

"There's just been a message on the phone Sir. They've blown the bridge at the gorge. The trains stuck here. Four 4x4s with heavy machine guns on the back shot up the guard post. Then they dynamited the bridge and disappeared back into the desert."

"Oh. That's that then. David you'll be staying after all. Get your case and get in the back of the Land Rover. Dr Simpson you drive. I'll carry the gun. David if there's any problem just lie flat on the floor."

"Couldn't I have Uncle's pistol? I could use that when he's driving."

"No you may not. Things are dangerous enough without twelve year old boys blazing away with automatics."

"And," said Mark turning to the railway man, "could you get the train back down the line a bit away from here where those bastards from the North won't see it. It could come in useful later on for ferrying troops up from the gorge."

"I say Mark," David said once they were settled in the Land Rover. "You're very much in charge."

"Mark is Commissioner here now David." Uncle Robert said.

"Gosh." David fell silent trying to absorb the discovery that the youth with whom he and Michael had swum naked in the river, whose clothes they had stolen as a joke and who had tanned their bottoms very soundly for the trick when he eventually ran them to ground, was now the chief government official in the area.

Their journey back to the old mission post, that in the emergency had been converted into the government headquarters, passed without incident.

Mark brought the Land Rover to a halt outside a single story building set in open ground some way away from the other mission buildings. Two policemen stood on guard outside it. David noticed that most of the windows had been blocked up and the glass knocked out of those that remained. He did not know that the building had been chosen because it's isolated position provided a clear field of fire for any one defending it.

It was dark and shady inside. Sand bag emplacements had been built by the remaining widows. Five mattresses with bedding neatly rolled were lined up against one wall.

David did not want to admit it to himself but for the rest of the day he was really rather bored. Uncle Robert would not let him go out of sight of the mission building. The men were all too occupied about other matters to have time to spare for him. There was really nothing to do.

It was rather a relief when dark came. Mark drew up a watch rota which omitted David despite his vehement protests.

"Right David," Mark said after supper had been eaten in almost complete silence. "The best place for you is up in the loft. You'll be safer up there than any where else. And if they do come looking for you there's a water tank up there. Get into that and just duck under the water if necessary. And sleep in your clothes just in case."

"But you'll all be here," David said. "You'll see them off."

"Yes," Mark replied looking round at the tense faced men about him. "We'll be here." He didn't ask the boy how long he thought five lightly armed men could hold out against a force which included four 4x4s armed with heavy machine guns. But however short that time was it would be time gained for their army to mobilise and strike back.

They came just as dawn was breaking. David was woken by the stutter of automatic fire and the roar of truck engines. The fight did not take all that long. From the loft David saw two policemen hit in the first exchange of fire. Then with the defenders unable to cover every window one of 4x4s managed to get close up and spray the interior of the building with it's machine gun. A couple of hand grenades followed and David was looking down on a scene of bloody carnage.

The door burst open and a burly white man, a half smoked cigar stuck in his mouth, wearing shorts, long socks and an open necked khaki shirt strode in. He peered around.

"Come on blast you," he shouted over his shoulder. "Two of you in here. The rest of you search the other buildings. I want that boy. There's money in that boy if we can find him."

He spoke with a harsh nasal twang. It was an accent David had become familiar with during his short stop overs at Johannesburg.

Two black men dressed in filthy fatigues and carrying automatic rifles began to ransack the room..

"Well so the boys not in here. Have you looked in the loft you dumb black bastard? Then look."

David had just time to scramble into the water tank as the man hauled himself up into the loft.

"No one up here boss," the man said and David heard a thump as he dropped back down to the floor below.

"Well the brats about some where and I want him. Are any of these bastards alive? They'll know."

David carefully levered himself out of the water tank and crept back to the open trapdoor. The white man began to move restlessly about examining the bodies that now littered the floor.

"A white man," David heard him explain, and then the thud of a kick. "Well the buggers dead now. Serve the Kafir lover right."

So Uncle Robert was dead. David fought back his tears.

"This one's alive. You two string him up somehow while I go and get my little persuader."

The two Africans busied themselves tying a rope round the wrists of one of the bodies lying on the floor. They threw the other end of the rope over a pipe that ran the length of the room and pulled. David gasped as he saw that it was Mark who was now suspended by his wrists. The blood dribbled from a gash across his fore head and the front of his tunic on his right side was soaked in blood.

The white man returned. He was carrying a heavy hide whip. If David had seen one before he would have recognised it as a sjambok.

"Get that man stripped and get a bucket of water we need to wake the bastard up."

Once Mark was stripped the white man took the bucket of water and threw it over him. Mark groaned and opened his eyes.

"Where's the white boy?"

Mark muttered something. The man brought the whip cracking down across his bare shoulders. Mark groaned again.

"Speak up boy. I asked you a question and I want to hear the answer."

"Where is the white boy?"

"He's not here," Mark gasped out.

"Not here. I asked you where he was boy not where he was not. A smart boy. I'll enjoy this. It was smart boys like you that lost me my home in the Republic."

"If I knew where he was I would tell him to stay hidden."

"Why you...."

The white man did not finish his sentence but began methodically to flog Mark. Over and over again the whip sang through the air and cracked down across Mark's bare shoulders. David watched horrified as the deep red weals multiplied. At first Mark grunted as each blow of the whip. Then he made no noise at all but hung limply by the wrists swinging as the whip struck him.

"Another bucket of water," the man commanded.

"Well boy," the man said putting down the whip and moving round to face Mark. "To take that without talking you must love the white boy. So you won't want these any more."

He bent forward and took hold of Marks balls in his left hand. With his right hand he drew his clasp knife from it's sheath at his belt.

David swallowed. He didn't care what he had been told by the grown ups. He would not let this happen.

"I'm the boy you want," he said as boldly as he could.

The white man replaced his knife in it's sheath and slowly turned round.

"Why my little chicken," he crooned. "You come down now to Uncle Pieter. Uncle Pieter likes his little boys so you come down to him now my darling." He smiled coldly.

David sat down on the edge of the trap door and prepared to jump.

"Quickly now my darling. Uncle Pieter doesn't like to be kept waiting by his little boys."

He lashed out with the whip sending it's tip twisting about David's right leg just above the ankle. David yelped. It felt as though a red hot wire had been wrapped about his leg. Thrown off balance he tumble to the floor.

"And you, you fool," Pieter said, turning on one of the black men. "You were supposed to have searched that loft."

He struck out twice with the whip, catching the man once across the front of his legs as he faced him and then across his buttocks as he turned to run.

"And now I will just make sure this Kafir is going nowhere."

Pieter unsheathed his knife once more and stepping quickly behind Mark slashed at the back of his left knee. David yelled in rage and hurled himself across the room catching the man off balance. Pieter did not fall but he was sent staggering away from Mark.

He grabbed David by his wet shirt and shook him viciously.

"Now you going to find out my darling how Uncle Pieter deals with his little boys when they annoy him. And we'll do it in front of all the other little boys so that they can learn the lesson as well."

He half marched half dragged David across the open ground to the other mission buildings. There under the guard of two bored black man crouched on the ground against one wall was a group of African boys some naked, some partly clothed. As he got closer David began to recognise them, one by one, as boys with whom he had joked and played before he went away to England. But then their faces were alight with laughter and high spirits while now they were dull with misery and defeat. Among them he saw Michael.

"What happened Michael?" But Michael turned his head away.

Not that he really needed to ask. It was clear enough. They must have ambushed the vehicles carrying the children on their way to the East. There's was no need to ask about Auntie Jane either. She would never have allowed this to happen while she was alive.

"You know this blackie do you boy?" Pieter said prodding Michael with his boot.

"Yes," David replied trying but failing to sound brave. "He's my friend."

"Why then he'll do very well. Get up boy."

Michael dragged himself wearily to his feet. He was quite naked. David could see from the marks on his bottom and back that he had felt the whip.

"Turn round boy. Good. Now my little chicken off with those clothes. Quick now or do you want me to help you. Right stand up against your black friend and put your arms over his shoulders. And you boy catch hold of your white friend's wrists and lean forward."

David felt his feet lifted off the ground Michael's bare skin smooth and cool against his. It was a pleasant feeling reminding him of times in the dormitory at school when he had crept into another boy's bed seeking and finding, comfort and warmth.

"You like that do you boy?" David felt the man's hands stray over his body. They came to rest on his bottom which he gently squeezed. Despite himself he felt himself harden and he knew Michael must feel it as well. The man slapped his back side sharply.

"But we're not here so you can enjoy yourself are we? But not the sjambok not for a delicate little boy like you. Not this time anyway. One of you," he said turning to the guards. "Cut me a cane and bring it here. Not too heavy but not too light either and nice and whippy."

There was a long pause during which David lay suspended along Michael's back feeling the terror grow within him. The guard returned. There were a series of swishes as Pieter tried the cane out. Then David felt the tip of the cane against his bum. There was a pause and with a vicious hiss it came slicing down across the centre of his bare rump driving the breath from him. David's body jerked convulsively. The next stroke landed below and parallel to the first.

David fought to hold back his cries. Mark had not cried once and he'd had the whip that was worse. He was not going to let Mark down.

"David," Michael whispered urgently. "David yell. Please yell. It's easier if you do."

Crack .. a third blow landed.

Crack ... a fourth.

David found he had no choice but to take his friends advice.

Over and over again the man brought the cane slashing down across his bare defenceless bottom as David howling writhed on Michael's naked back.

Finally the man stopped.

"That's the end of the fun," he said to the soldiers who had gathered round to watch. "We've got to get on before their army gets itself together. Get the boys loaded up. Remember we need them as porters until we're the other side of the mountains. We haven't got enough trucks to carry the water and food we need to get through the desert so the boys will have to do it for us. At the other side of the mountains you can have the pick of the boys that have survived the trek. Except the white one. He's mine and we'll make a lot of money from him. You wait till the English press hear there's the son of a British Army officer for sale as a slave boy down on the coast... in danger of being sold into a boy brothel. They'll pay well to save him. A million..two million..we will see."

"Now get the boys loaded up it's time we moved."

"What about the white boy?" one of the soldiers asked.

"He can carry a load as well as the rest of them. Now get moving."

Michael straightened up and lowered David gently to his feet. David hung on his neck whimpering for a moment.

The soldiers moved about among the boys loading them with sacks of food and water containers. David felt he could hardly stand under his burden. A soldier moved down the line of boys testing their loads.

"This boy can take a bit more," he said giving David's sore rump a slap with his open hand. A further sack was added.

There was a shout whips cracked, a boy cried out and the march began. The sun blazed down, the day grew ever hotter, soldiers strode up and down the line of boys urging them on with shouts and cuts from the whips they carried. Unused to the heat after 4 years away in Britain, parched with thirst and aching from his beating David trudged doggedly on, his eyes fixed on the heels of the boy immediately ahead of him. Just as he thought he could go no further the column turned into a broad valley shaded by high cliffs and halted. The soldiers moved down the line of boys removing their loads. Once freed of their burdens the boys squatted or sat on the bare ground, exhausted.

Pieter walked back from the 4x4 in which he had been riding. He was red faced and sweating. He picked up a container of water and tipped the greater part of it over his head. Then he drank deeply from it before tipping the balance over himself.

"Right you men. We rest here for four hours till it cools down a bit. There's unlimited water for you and the cooks are getting some food together. The boys are rationed to a mug of water now and another before we move off. They'll get fed when we make our camp site tonight."

There was more shouting and kicking as the boys were lined up to receive their water ration. They shuffled dispiritedly past two soldiers who were serving water out of a single mug. David swallowed his ration eagerly but still felt desperately thirsty. Looking round he saw Michael sitting on the ground his head resting on his knees. He shuffled wearily over and sat down beside him.

"You look done," Michael whispered.

"I am," David admitted quietly. "It's the heat. I could have taken it easy four years ago. I could do most things you could do. But now. I'm just not used to it."

"You've got to keep going. If you drop they'll just take the water and leave you. You're dead then. Well maybe not you. That white pig thinks he can make money out of you so maybe you'll be treated differently." Michael sounded bitter.

"I can't help that," David protested.

"No," Michael was contrite. "I know you can't."

He sighed and let his head fall back on his knees.

A soldier strolled up holding a water bottle. He stopped and prodded Michael in the bottom with his foot. Michael looked up.

"Hi my little friend," the soldier said smiling to reveal a mouthful of rotten discoloured teeth.

Michael said nothing.

The soldier unscrewed the cap of the bottle and poured a little water onto the sand in front of the parched boys.

"If you'd be nice to me my little friend you could have this whole bottle all to yourself."

"You know the white man says you mustn't harm us till we reach the other side of the mountains."

"This won't hurt you little friend. You'll have to do much nastier things when your sold to your new master I'm sure. It's not much to do for a bottle full of water."

Michael glanced at David. Then at the soldier. He nodded and got to his knees. He reached up and began to unbutton the soldiers flies. The soldier grabbed him by his ears and pulled his head into his crutch. David watched fascinated as Michael's head moved up and down .

I suppose perhaps I'd do it if I had the chance he thought doubtfully trying to excuse his friend in his own mind. I could certainly do with some water.

The soldier cried out arching his back and Michael hunkered down on his heels wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He reached out and took the water bottle from the soldier.

"Here," he said holding it out to David. "It's for you."

David hesitated and then took it. To take it was bad enough. To refuse it would be much worse. David drank deeply and forced himself to take the bottle away from his lips. He offered it to Michael.

"No," Michael said fiercely. "I did it for you because you are my friend. I don't want it."

David looked at him. Started to say some thing and then stopped. He drained the bottle and then for the first time since he had arrived in Africa began to cry in sorrow. He cried for Uncle Robert, Auntie Jane, Peter , Michael, for all of them. Michael put his arm around him and hugged him.

The soldier picked up the water bottle and walked off laughing.

Chapter II

All too soon Pieter was shouting at his men to get the boys moving again. Boots thudded against bare flesh and whips cracked as the soldiers urged the exhausted boys to their feet. Hustled into line the boys moved forward to receive their ration of a single mug of water each, then staggering under their loads, they were driven out into the burning heat of the plane.

David and Michael had this time managed to keep together. David trudged wearily on conscious only of the heat, his own exhaustion and Michael's bare back just ahead of him.

Suddenly Michael yelled and fell to one side spilling his load on the ground. A soldier ran up and lashed the boy as he lay writhing on the ground.

"Get up boy. Get back in line. Quick boy," the soldier yelled each word accompanied by a cut of the whip across the boys naked body.

Shock had brought David to a halt. The boy behind him jostled him forward. David threw himself over Michael in a desperate attempt to protect his friend. His load too went flying. The soldier cursed and transferred his attention to David who screamed as the whip cracked down across his rump. Another soldier ran up and grabbing David tried to pull him away from Michael. He twisted his arms about Michael's waste and held on hard. His naked body was damp and slippery with sweat and it was difficult for the soldier to get a firm grip..

"It's a scorpion," Michael whispered between gritted teeth. "I didn't see it till I stepped on it."

"What the hell is going on here," it was Pieter's voice.

The soldier managed at last to pull David clear of his friend. David kicked and struggled in his arms but the boy was no match for the man's strength.

Pieter bent down his sjambok in his right hand and examined Michael's leg.

" This one's going no further," he said straightening up. "Get his load redistributed and give that white brat a hiding to teach him not to leave the column. Come on quick."

One of the soldiers lifted his rifle, cocked it and levelled it at Michael as he lay on the ground. Pieter knocked the rifle up with a curse.

"What's' the point of wasting ammunition you black fool," he shouted. "The boy will be dead by tomorrow anyway."

"You can't leave him. You can't." David shouted desperately. "If you put him in the back of the van. He'll be all right in a day or two."

"You boys are here to carry our supplies," Pieter snarled. "If you can't do that you're no use to me and you get left behind and out here if you get left behind you die and that's what going to happen to your black friend boy."

"Now hold that boy still for me," Pieter ordered the soldier.

He swung the sjambok back and brought it slashing down across the front of David's legs. The boy howled and leapt. The soldier tightened his grip and swung David round again to face Pieter. The whip cracked down again.

"Let him go," Pieter said.

David dropped to his knees in the dust.

"Get back in line you little sod and keep in line," Pieter reinforced his order with a hard kick in the boy's stomach.

Pieter turned away and David seeing his chanced scuttled across the ground and threw himself down upon Michael.

"I haven't got time for this," Pieter said furiously. "Get a rope one of you. "Now get him over to the truck".

Pieter took the rope and tied David's hands together in front of him. He fastened the other end of the rope to the back of his 4x4. He stepped back.

"Right you little bugger," he said. "Now you won't have any choice but to keep moving."

He booted David viciously up the backside, jumped into the truck and with a roar of the engine sent it rolling across the desert with David stumbling behind it.

Desperately looking back David could see the line of boys stumbling once more into motion, Michael's small body lying still and overhead a dark bird wheeling.

For the rest of the day David was only vaguely aware of what was going on around him. It seemed to him however that as time went on the whip cracks and shouts of the soldiers behind him became more frequent.

For about the fourth or fifth time since Michael had been abandoned the 4x4 stopped. David sank to his knees panting and exhausted. Pieter came round the truck and untied the rope from about his wrists. David see that the flesh was raw from where the cord had cut him. Pieter hauled him to his feet. Looking round for the first time he saw that he was standing among palm trees with a small lake glistening in the sun in front of him. Pieter swung him to face away from the water.

"You can go and rejoin your black friends now boy," he said. With a boot up the backside he sent David staggering across to where the column boys were halted.

"Keep those boys together until I've had my swim," he shouted to the soldiers. "Then you can let them run loose. There's nowhere they can go from here."

Desperate with thirst the boys had to watch the man splash about in the water of the lake. Then at last he came out and waved to the guards. The soldiers moved off and after a few seconds the boys realised they were free to enter the lake. With an excited whoop they rushed across to it shouting and laughing. For a few minutes they forgot the horrors that had been inflicted on them and the sufferings that no doubt were still to come as they danced and splashed in the cool water.

Just before dusk the soldiers reappeared carrying buckets full of maize porridge. The boys squatted round them hungrily scooping the food into their mouths with their hands.

As the sun set the temperature dropped sharply. Their stomachs full the boys huddled together for warmth and one by one fell asleep.

David made himself stay awake. He had a plan. At last when the shouting and talk from about the soldiers camp fire had died away he gently disentangled himself from the jumble of naked bodies among which he had been lying and began to creep quietly towards the 4x4s. He knew there was no chance of stealing one of them. He was certain that the drivers would have taken the keys and in any event he would not have been able to drive one. He did know however that there were water bottles there and he needed some.

It was very chilly away from the warmth of the other boys and he was frightened. He was going back to find Michael. He knew his chances of survival, let alone success were small. However they had come from the South and Uncle Robert had told him enough about the stars for him to be pretty sure he could get a Southerly heading. There were lions and snakes and other dangers out there but he would just have to take his chance with them. Same with water, he would keep trying until he ran out.

At first all went well. He got four water bottles and filling them from the lake he set out carrying two in his hands and two joined together with a length of rope slung over his shoulders. He was pretty sure he got had got his Southerly heading right and there was a bright moon to light him on his way. After an hour however he realised that things were not going quite so well as he had at first imagined. He had some how lost the track and he was in among clumps of bushes that tore at his legs and which were constantly forcing him to change direction. He was trying to go South but often he was being forced to turn to the East, to the West and sometimes even to the North. Then some where quite near by a lion roared.

He wondered what he ought to do. If he stayed still was it likely that the lion would not know he was there and would simply go off to do some thing else? Or if he kept moving would the lion say to itself "a strange animal I'd better be on the save aide and stick to zebra's"? He wished he knew more about the thought processes of lions. Well the chances were just as likely to be one or the other. He had just better keep going because the longer he hung around the more likely it would be too late to safe Michael and that Pieter would come after him and catch him. He kept on but he didn't like it. Indeed by now he was very frightened indeed.

By the time dawn came he was pretty sure he had failed. He had not made anything like the distance he had hoped and although he took a marker as it became light the plain was pretty featureless. He could not after a time be certain if the hillock with the large rock on it which he had taken as his heading was the same hillock which he was now using. However the Mountains lay to the North and if he kept these behind him he should be more or less right.

The sun got higher and higher in the sky. The temperature rose steadily. David tried to ration himself with the water but he was very thirsty. He was also very tired. He sat down in the shade of a thorn tree to rest.

Then to the North he heard a sound. He stood up to listen better. There was no mistake about it now. He could clearly hear the throb of a diesel engine and it was getting rapidly closer. He forced himself to his feet and began to run. Still the engine noise grew louder. He topped a ridge and looking back behind him he saw a cloud of dust approaching him across the plain. He ran on sweat pouring from his body, his lungs aching. He was on rising ground again. The engine noise changed. He looked back. The van was halted it's engine chugging. An African soldier was peering hard at the ground in front of it. He straightened and pointed in David's direction.

They had a professional tracker. David knew he was all but lost but still he kept on. He heard a shout behind him. They had seen him. The volume of the engine noise increased remorselessly. He glanced back. The van was within a hundred metres of him. Now the van was right on his heels. He looked back again the front fender of 4x4 was within a couple of metres of him. Through the wind screen he could see Pieter holding the steering wheel, an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth, grinning fiercely.

Desperately David dodged to the left, trying vainly to threw the van off. Then to the right. Still the van's front bumper was close behind him. He stumbled and fell. The 4x4 brakes squealed and it skidded to a halt, it's front wheels only a few inches from David's naked body.

Pieter came round the van carrying his sjambok. He looked down at the boy. Gently he shook his head.

"Uncle Pieter is disappointed with you boy," he said. "Uncle Pieter thought he had taught you a lesson in obedience and good behaviour but you don't seem to have learnt it yet. Uncle Pieter will have to give you another lesson."

David got to his knees and tried to dart off. One of the soldiers caught him and laughing threw him back to the ground at Pieter's feet. The white man lifted the lash back over his shoulder and brought it down across the boys bare rump. The pain drove the breath out of his body. Pieter raised the lash again. Desperately David tried to crawl away from him. This time the whip landed across his shoulders knocking him flat the ground.

"Hold him down", Pieter commanded.

One of the soldiers put his boot on the small of the boy's back forcing him to stay down. The lash crashed down again and again and again as the boy writhed and howled in the dirt.

At last it was over. David's arms were puled behind his back he felt cold metal around his wrists. He was picked up by one ankle and an arm and thrown roughly into the back of the van. It rolled off David lying on it's metal floor whimpering quietly to himself. The soldiers started to amuse themselves by kicking him to and froe between them until Pieter alerted by their giggling, ordered them to stop.

"I want him beaten not killed," he shouted.

A helicopter bussed towards the oasis from the North.

"We'll be just in time," Pieter said fighting to hold the steering wheel steady as the 4x4 bumped across the plain.

The helicopter made a circle of the oasis and then descend slowly to the ground it's rota blade throwing up a great cloud of dust. Pieter gunned the van forward. Soldiers and boys mixed together in their excitement came running out of the palm trees to see what was happening.

Pieter braked the van to halt . He hauled David from the back of it and taking a steel collar from one of the soldiers snapped it about the boys slim neck. He hooked a length of chain to it and tugged.

"Come on boy," he said. "You've got to meet a very important man."

He began to walk towards the helicopter. David tugged along by the collar around his neck, his hands manacled behind him stumbled after him.

Three men got out of the helicopter to meet them. One was clearly the pilot; a tall hard bitten man who looked as though nothing would surprise him dressed in oil stained overalls. He was followed by a very fat middle aged man who was obviously finding the heat a trial and a much thinner smaller younger man his neck hung about with cameras.

The fat man shook hands with Pieter

"This is my photographer," he said waving at the younger man. "Well Pieter I've spoken to the editor and he's spoken to the proprietor and they agree two hundred thousand for the story and then there's whatever we can make for ransom money and there frankly the sky is the limit I should have thought."

"Two million I was thinking of going for," Pieter remarked.

"Why not go for five as a starter," the fat man suggested. "we can always come down."

Pieter shrugged. "I'm easy," he said.

"And our private arrangement. Twenty percent of what ever we get for the ransom to be split between me and Nigel."

"Sure. If we can get five million I can make do with four."

"Good, good," the fat man said jovially, "and this is our little friend who's going to make us all that lovely money."

He leered over Pieter's shoulder at David.

"He's in a bit of a mess, but I suppose that's all to the good really for our purposes. Pictures of the poor little bruised darling will go straight to the hearts of the mother's of Surbiton. And to Nigel's too. He loves little boys don't you Nigel?"

"I don't think we should let him have this one," Pieter said. "They might insist on a medical examination before they paid up but he can have the pick of the blacks if he wants. He can have one of them tonight or two for that matter. If he makes his choice after he's finished with this brat I'll have them cleaned up for him. I'd be glad if he didn't damage them overmuch. They'll be going on the block soon and I don't want their value effected."

"Don't worry Captain, Nigel's not all that well endowed. Now come on Nigel start taking your photographs. This is an assignment you should really enjoy."

"Don't you think it would be better if one of the soldiers held that chain rather than the Captain," Nigel said hurrying forward with his camera at the ready. "Nothing racist you understand but I think a black man would have more dramatic impact."

"Yes that's right lovely."

Nigel busied himself taking photographs. David stood patiently in the blazing sun, naked, his hands manacled behind his back. He had long since passed beyond feeling either shame or embarrassment.

Nigel moved round behind David.

"Oh look at the poor little darling's bruises," he exclaimed touching David's thighs, "and here."

He pulled David's hands up his back so that he could see his bottom more clearly .

"Get on with taking the photographs can't you," the fat man said impatiently. "You can kiss the bruises better later if you want."

"I would love to do that but I don't think the Captain would be too keen on that. I think it'll be a couple of little black bottoms for me tonight."

"Do you know Captain it's very difficult to get a good photo of the boy's bottom with all those lovely welts on it. His hands hide it. Would it be possible to tie him up some where with his hands above his head."

"Yes sure. You men string him up by his wrist over the roof bar at the back of the 4x4"

"Oh Captain before you do that just get the van turned so the light's right. Yes that's it. Oh what a lovely little bum and those nasty cruel welts."

Nigel took some more photographs and then came close to David and ran his hands over his backside.

"Poor little boy," he crooned. "Did the cruel men take the nasty wicked whip to that tender little bottom of yours."

"Do you know Captain, what would make a really great shot would be a picture of one of your men actually using the whip on the boy."

Go on one of you men. Do what he says," Pieter said in a bored voice.

"Wait a second. Let me just get in position. Right Now."

The whip sang through the air and cracked down across David's bottom. The boy screamed and pulled at his bound hands.

"Oh that was really good. And another one please just to make sure the shot comes out. This time across his shoulders."

The whip whistled down once more and again the boy yelled as the lash struck home.

"Oh lovely! I just like the way his legs came up in the air when it hit him that time."

"Now how accurate are you with that thing. I think it would be a really dramatic picture if I could get a close up of the tip of the whip at the moment it strikes his bottom. Wait now while I get my camera right. OK Now. Excellent...... He does make a noise doesn't he."

"Once more please. Try to land it as near as you can on the same spot. .... That's really good. ....... Do stop making such a fuss you silly boy."

"One last thing now. I think a really striking picture would be one of the poor little lads face at the moment the whip hits him."

"Let me get up on the van ...... Now one of you men pull his head back so that he's looking up at me. .... Oh dear such a pretty little face and all covered with snot and tears. Right I'm ready. ....That's excellent..... I think that'll be an absolute classic.....Once more........Good. I should imagine if that gets printed the whole world will see his tonsils he opened his mouth so loud to scream."

"Now I don't mind what you say Captain. I must give him a kiss. There on the lips. Salty with tears the little lamb."

"I tell you what Captain you wouldn't have one of the black boys whipped as well would you please? Pictures of that would add more depth to the story I think."

"Certainly. Take that boy down and get one of the blacks. . One of the bigger boys....It doesn't matter which one."

Released David sank snivelling to his knees in the dirt. Pieter went to secure the boy's hands once more behind his back. Pieter took the boys wrists and then paused. There was absolutely no resistance. He hesitated and then smiled.

"Up on your feet," he commanded.

David obeyed and stood before him his head bowed his hands hanging loose at his sides. Pieter put a hand under the boy's chin and tipped his head back. He looked into his eyes. He saw fear and hopelessness but nothing else. Anger, pride resistance all had gone. Pieter nodded to himself. The boy had been broken.

Pieter turned back to look at the van. A sturdy Negro boy was being dragged towards it by two of the soldiers.

"Get a bloody move on," he shouted. "Let's get this boy flogged sharpish. I want my bloody lunch."

Chapter III

David was beaten and he knew it. There was no point in struggling any longer. He had failed and that was the end of it. More importantly he had failed his friends. Both had been prepared to suffer for him and neither had he been able to help in return. Mark had been left to die slowly in the Mission horribly wounded. Michael's body was lying out there in the desert with the vultures and wild dogs probably already feasting on it. He had been no use to them. He must accept his fate. He did not deserve any better.

He wondered what was going to happen to him. He had heard the discussion between Pieter and the fat news paper reporter. He knew they were talking of setting him free in return for a very large sum of money but he was not a stupid boy. He thought it unlikely that Pieter would let the other two men have any part of the money if it did materialise or that he would allow David to escape to bear witness against him. On the other hand Pieter could no doubt make money out of him. He thought that probably like the other boys his fate would be decided on the auction block and the best he could hope was that his purchaser would be a kind master to him.

"There we are," he heard Nigel say. "That's the end of that. I think I would like this one as one of the boys you so kindly offered me Captain. Those welts look very fetching don't they. "

He bent and kissed one of the livid weals that now disfigured the boys shoulders.

"And the second one..... Well if you would sort one out as similar to this one as you can.... that would be fine."

"I'll get the men to do it," Pieter said. "Do you want the second one whipped as well."

"Oh I don't know," Nigel paused to consider. "No I don't think so. I think it would be a nice contrast really. One marked with the whip the other not."

"Right. Now let's for God's sake have lunch," Pieter said setting off towards where his tent was pitched in the shade of the palm trees. He paused and looked back over his shoulder. "You boy come on." Obediently David trotted after the three men.

Pieter's tent was large and square. The canvas walls on the side facing the lake had been looped back and a wooden plank floor on which stood a table and a number of canvas chairs, had been built in front of it. David was following the three men onto the platform when Pieter turned back towards him.

"Get off," the man shouted lashing out at him with his whip. "Filthy little animal. You stay back. I'll have you sorted out after Lunch."

David squealed and jumped backwards rubbing the front of his thighs where the whip had caught him.

"Ah Joseph," Pieter continued addressing a black man who came hurrying up from one side of the tent. "About time too you lazy black oaf. Whisky and three glasses fast. That grubby little animal over there is your new helper. After we've eaten see he's clean and set him to work."

David stood awkwardly at the edge of the planking for a moment and then, when the men ignoring him began drinking and talking among themselves, squatted down .

"How much time can you give us to set this thing up Captain?" the fat man asked.

"Ten days. The summer market is being held on the 24th July so we need to get the money by then or the boy goes on the block with the rest of my stock."

"That's not long. But still perhaps that's not a bad thing. Long enough to whip up hysteria not long enough to give any one time to think."

"How'll we manage the exchange. That's the money for the boy?"

"You set up a numbered Swiss bank account into which you pay all the money, all of it mind you. You arrange it so that funds can only be withdrawn under our joint signature. You come out here with the cheque book and an account certified by say Peates supporting the sum in the account. We write out bearer cheques. You go back to Britain for a heroes welcome with the boy and your share of the loot. I, well I just, quietly disappear."

"A bit cumbersome surely," the fat man protested. "Why can't I just take our share out and bring you yours?"

Pieter said nothing. He simply put his knife and fork down and stared coldly at the man.

"Oh, all right then. Where do we make the transfer?"

"Here," Pieter replied. "Usually the market's held over the other side of the mountains but there's some political problem. Some bleeding hearts in the US and Europe putting pressure on our friends in the government so this year they asked us to have it somewhere out of the way."

"Just got a message on the short wave radio from my agent telling me so. Not too bad really. We've got the boys here in good time so we can rest'em and feed 'em up a bit so they're in good condition for the sale. The only trouble is we'll have to ship some extra food in as we hadn't been planning to stay here more than a couple of days. Normally I'd get over that by starving the boys a bit, hunger's almost as good for discipline as the whip. Put them on half rations, they don't need much just to survive but that's not on with the market so near."

"And how do we know when we turn up here you'll honour the deal?" Nigel asked.

"I won't get the money without your signature on my cheque. That's the best guarantee you could possibly have."

The men ate steadily as they talked. David crouched at the edge of the planks watched them hungrily. He had filled his stomach with maize porridge at the end of the previous day but since then had nothing. He was almost crying with hunger.

Pieter glanced over towards the desperate boy . He grinned picked up a chop bone from his plate bit at it and then threw it in David's direction. It landed in the dust a metre or so away from the boy. There was no pride in him now. He scrambled over to grab it. The three men watched the starving boy.

"No different from a bloody monkey," Pieter remarked and the men laughed.

Nigel grinning picked up the chop bone from his plate and held it in the air

"You want this boy?" he called.

"Sir, please Sir," David made no attempt to keep the whine out of his voice.

"Beg, beg like a dog. Go on. That's right. Well here you are then."

He chucked the bone high up over David's head. David turned and scampered after it. A mangy pye-dog, it's ribs sticking out through it's skin, which Nigel had spotted lurking behind a tree near by, appeared. The two famished animals, dog and boy, raced each other for the scrap as the men laughed and shouted. The dog won. David set off in pursuit of it.

"Boy," Pieter shouted. "Boy come back here now or I'll have Josh hunt you back with the whip."

Reluctantly David trotted back and squatted down once more in the dust, tears streaming down his face. He was crying from hunger, he no longer felt shame or humiliation.

"Finished with this," Pieter said to the fat man pointing to the bone that lay on his plate.

The fat man nodded. Pieter picked it up and held it up so that David could see it. Unbidden the boy squatted on his heels his hands in front of his chest in a pathetic attempt to imitate a begging dog.

Very deliberately Pieter dropped the bone on the planks just out of David's reach. David made as though to get it. Pieter touched the handle of the whip that lay beside him on the table. David drew back. Grinning the men watched the boy hesitate, torn between fear of the whip and hunger.

"You as much as put one part of your filthy body on the deck and you'll have the lash across your bum," Pieter threatened.

Joseph appeared from behind the tent. He walked towards the table to clear away the dirty plates. He saw the bone and glancing towards David changed direction.

"You leave it where it is Josh and come and get on with your work," Pieter ordered.

"The trouble with Josh is that he's too kind hearted", he remarked. "Left to himself he would spoil the boys."

"No danger of you doing that Captain," the reporter said with a grin.

Flies began to buss about the bone. David gazed at it longingly.

Josh came out carrying the men's puddings. Pieter turned back to the table. Seizing his chance David made a quick dash towards the bone. He grabbed it and turned hoping to be out of reach before Pieter could use the whip on him. He was not quick enough. He howled as the lash cut him across his naked bottom. He kept hold of the bone though and soon he was tearing greedily with his teeth at the few fragments of flesh that remained on it.

He heard a slight noise to his right. He looked round. Joseph was standing behind the tent. The man put his finger to his lips and beckoned the boy to him. The fun over the men were once more intent on their food. David crept quietly over to him.

"Here," the man whispered. He produced a bowl full of scraps; fragments of potato and cabbage covered with cold congealed gravy. David took the bowl from him eagerly and gulped down the unappetising mess. He thought he had never tasted anything better.

Josh. Where the hell's that bloody boy?" Pieter shouted from the front of the tent.

"Here Sir," Joseph replied hurriedly. "I'm just getting him cleaned up like you said Sir."

"OK but don't you go feeding him till I say so. You hear. I want the little sod to suffer. He's caused me enough problems already."

"Yes Sir. Very well Sir," Josh called back winking at the boy crouching at his feet.

When David had cleared the bowl of food Josh set him to work him fetching buckets of water from the lake. These he heated and tipped into an old metal drum. When this was almost full he added some antiseptic and giving the boy a rag told him to sponge himself down. Then he made David stand in the drum and gave him a gentle but very thorough tubbing. Every now and again David gave a little gasp as the disinfectant stung when the man touched an open cut.

"Well we better let the Boss have a look at you," he said helping David clamber out of the drum. "Remember now call him Sir and do what ever he says and do it quick and perhaps you will be all right."

Taking the boy by the arm he lead him out to where the men still sat about the table. They had finished their meal and had nearly finished the bottle of whisky. "Ah I was wondering when you were going to produce the boy," Pieter said slightly slurring his words. "Well lets have a look at him. Come here boy and stand in front of me. Don't try to cover yourself with your hands boy. Put them on your head. Turn round. Oh well he looks clean enough to me. Take him away and set him to work."

David feeling the he had got off lightly, as indeed he had, followed Josh back into the tent.

Josh kept David busy sweeping out the tent and helping him prepare the evening meal while the three white men slept off the drink. In the evening David helped Josh to serve the men's dinner. That was almost over when a guard brought Nigel's two boys to the back of the tent. Josh took charge of them. David who was washing up saw him give each of them a slug of whisky before taking them to Nigel. Josh returned carrying a blanket.

"Here boy," he said handing it to David. "You go now. They won't miss you . Slee under the palm trees over there. You'll be out of their way there."

David wrapped the blanket around him and lay on the ground staring up at the stars through the palm fronds. Crickets chirped noisily all about him, frogs croaked steadily at the margin of the lake and out in the desert a hyena howled. From the tent came the murmur of human voices and the sound of drunken laughter.

He woke to see Josh sitting propped against a palm tree staring out into the dark. The tent now was quiet except for the faint sound of a boy sobbing.

"Josh," he said quietly

"Oh you're awake. Go to sleep now can't you."

"I've been asleep Josh........Josh what's going to happen to me?"

David waited but the man did not speak.

"Josh they're talking about ransoming me. That's not going to happen is it?"

"No boy, I'm afraid not."

"I'll be sold like the others won't I?"

Again there was no reply.

"I'm afraid Josh."

"It won't be too bad. You're a nice looking boy. You work hard to please your Master and do what he wants. You'll be all right."

"Josh, why did you give those two boys whisky tonight?"

"I reckon because I thought it would make things easier for them."

"That's the sort of thing I'll have to do isn't it.... .....Oh Josh."

"It hurts at first," Josh said reluctantly, "but it gets easier. Why after a time you'll enjoy it may be."

"You're not like the rest of them Josh. You're kind. Why are you here?"

"I killed some one back in Durban and if I'm caught I hang."

"Who Josh? Who did you kill"

"I killed my wife and her boy friend. I was working on the Captain's farm. He had to get out quickly. He gave me the choice; either come on the run with him or stay and be hanged. I'd have stayed if I knew what he was getting into."

"Now go to sleep. There's work to do tomorrow."

As the day of the auction drew near the population at the oasis increased. From the North came the customers in helicopters and gleaming air conditioned four wheel drive vehicles. From the south the merchandise; long columns of weary boys trudging resignedly through the heat and dust of the desert urged on with the lash. As the oasis filled up discipline of necessity had to be tightened. The boys were banished to make shift pens, designed more to define the area in which they were to stay than to physically confine them, down wind of the lake Even then, in the evenings, when the breeze would drop for a moment, or even shift, a horrible smell would afflict the nostrils of the customers who would complain loudly to each other about the boy's filthy habits---"no better than animals any of them".

Josh was kind to David. He did not work him hard and where ever possible kept him from Pieter, inventing little errands or tasks which would take him away from the tent.

He was not always successful. He woke David at dawn on the eighth day of their stop at the oasis. David could see from the expression on his face that something bad was about to happen.

"I'm sorry," Josh said. "You've got to go and join the other boys now."

David didn't mind that. He rather enjoyed being with the other boys although he did wish that the smell wasn't so bad.

Nor were things unusually unpleasant when he arrived at their pen. A soldier fastened a thin piece of wire with a brass tag attached to it around his wrist with the twist of a pair of pliers, another soldier made a note in a book and he was told to sit with the other boys. Drums of hot water were produced and the boys were put into them four at a time and scrubbed down. The soap suds were rinsed off with a bucketful of cold water and they were lined up naked and dripping. When all the boys had been washed they were taken by a team of soldiers all carrying whips across to Pieter's tent and ordered to sit in rows facing it

After a time Josh appeared and began to arrange chairs on tables on the plank deck. More time passed with the boys patiently sitting in their rows on the sand. Pieter came out of the tent and looked round checking everything was ready. Then the guests began to arrive. Europeans, Arabs, Africans, Asiatics; they had two things in common;. they looked well fed and rich.

Josh busied himself serving coffee. Eventually Pieter clapped his hands for silence and turning to face his guests began to speak in his harsh nasal voice.

"Gentlemen, I am not going to say much today. I have been bringing boys now to this market for many years and I think you all know that I deal only in the highest quality stock. I don't put a boy on the block for your consideration unless he's young, fresh and disease free. This year is no exception. I know though you would prefer to see for yourselves rather than to listen to me."

He glanced at a piece of paper in his hand.

"Number 273," he called out.

A soldier grabbed one of the boys and pushed him onto the platform beside Pieter. The boy stood there dejectedly, naked in front of the men, his head bowed, his hands hanging loose by his sides .

"Here's a case in point Gentlemen. About fourteen years old, a healthy boy, a good looking boy, good teeth, good legs, nice bum," Pieter patted the boy on his rump and the men laughed. "Turn round and show the Gentlemen your bum boy."

"Now hands on your head boy and just walk around in front of the Gentlemen so that they can get a good look at you."

"Gentlemen if any of you want a closer look just help yourself"

"Right round the edge of the circle boy," he cracked his whip catching the boy with it's tip on the side of his right buttock. "I want the Gentlemen to get a good look at you."

One of the men stood up and stopped the boy. Coldly and methodically he began to examine the boy. He tipped back his head, looked into his eyes, peered into his mouth, his hands strayed down the boys body. Nicky watched appalled knowing that some time, not perhaps the next time or the time after that even, it would be his turn to be exhibited to the crowd of men. The man turned the boy round so that he was facing away from him. His hands squeezed the back of the boys neck, strayed over his bare shoulders. He put one hand on the back of the boy's head and pushed so that he bent forward. His hands moved down to the boys bottom. The lad cried out and started away straightening himself. Pieter brought his whip cracking down across the front of the boy's thighs.

"Get back you stupid brat," he shouted. "Josh get hold of that boy's shoulders."

A few minutes later the boy's ordeal was over. He bolted from the platform tears streaming down his face.

One by one the boys were required to exhibit themselves on the platform. At last it was David's turn. He had had plenty of time to think of what was to come. He remembered Josh's advice about trying to please his master and being obedient. Although he felt sick with apprehension he forced himself to trot briskly up to Pieter when his number was called. When Pieter told him to turn round to show his bottom to the men he gave it a little wriggle that raised an appreciative chuckle. He forced himself to stay still under inspection and remained in position even when the pain caused by the man's probing finger was at it's most intense.

That night though when Josh eventually came to sleep under the palm trees David was lying wrapped in his blanket sobbing bitterly to himself .

The next day David was returning from some errand to Pieter's tent when he noticed another boy, naked like himself, coming towards him. There were always boys moving about the place performing some task for their masters but this boy looked strangely familiar. As he got closer he saw he looked exactly like Michael. Indeed he was his splitting image.

"Hello David," Michael said with a broad grin.

"I did try and get back to help you," David said. Michael he knew was dead and he could only assume that his ghost had come back to haunt him. He thought that this was unfair since he had done his best. It wasn't really his fault that that wasn't good enough.

"Well Mark told me how you tried to safe him too David."

"Well Marks dead as well," David said. It seemed entirely logical to him that the two brothers should have met up after their deaths to talk things over.

"What do you mean dead? We're both alive. Mark is in a Landrover with two of our soldiers hidden in a wadi about four kilometres from here."

"He can't be. He was badly wounded in the mission. I saw him. He was dying. And Michael you can't be alive either, you were left behind in the desert. You died long ago."

"Mark got a bullet in the right side of his chest. It didn't hit any thing vital. The heart is on the left side. Don't they teach you anything in those English schools. He was also wounded in the leg. Pieter's men never looked for the train. When the shooting was over the men from the train came up to the mission. They found Mark and gave him first aid. He and one of the men found a Landrover and took off after us. They couldn't intervene because there was only two of them but they picked me up and the other boys who collapsed.."

David was silent for a moment absorbing this.

"Well what are you doing here now?"

"Having a look round and trying to find you. I slipped in before dawn this evening. They don't have much of a guard mounted. It was easy and stripped off they just think I'm another slave boy."

"I bet you Mark wasn't too keen for you to come."

"Mark doesn't know I'm here. Well he does now because I left him a note. I didn't tell him before hand because I didn't want to worry him.."

"I am doing him a favour anyway. You see David we've got hundreds of men coming after this lot. It's taken time but now we've got 4x4s, a couple of armoured cars and some half tracks, although they keep breaking down. And we've got the loan of some American Special forces experts and some British SAS. But they spend most of their time quarrelling. Mark says they'll be all right when it starts."

"The trouble is that unless we do something, if we come at might they'll hear us, about three hours off we think, and in day time they'll see the dust cloud even sooner. Then some will get away and probably take at least some of the boys with them. So that's what Mark came up here for. To see if there was some we could get the whole lot close without being spotted."

"I saw what to do straight away but grown ups are so stupid they won't even listen so I decided to fix it up myself."

"You'll catch it you know Michael when Mark gets hold of you."

Michael waived his hand expansively indicating his complete disregard for this thought.

"What I'm going to do when they're real close is fire the vehicle park here. It's not guarded hardly at all and I've hidden matches and a couple of water bottles full of petrol in the sand on the edge of the oasis."

"Where did you get the petrol from."

"Oh well, we did an experiment at school in science class with a rubber tube and some water, making a siphon it's called. It works with petrol. I got it out of our Landrover tank when Mike wasn't looking."

"Well the rubber tube then how did you get hold of that."

"Plenty of tubes round the engine."

"Gosh," David was lost in admiration of such resourcefulness.

"I'll fire it when our lot are pretty close so we need to cover them before that and it's obvious how to do it only Mark just told me to shut up. We get the boys singing."

"Singing?"

"Yes, once we've got our lot started they'll keep going and the rest'll join in."

David thought about it. He remembered the Rev. Mr Elwyn Jones who was meant to be teaching them maths in the mission school, but was much more interested in translating Welsh hymns into Swahili, exhorting them "to give it some spirit boys, you're not an English church choir." And spirit they had given it.

"I bet I can slip away from the tent. Josh'll cover for me when he notices I'm missing. We'll start off with 'Oh pure of heart'", he said excitedly. "You can't help singing to that. There won't be any tenors or bases though."

"It doesn't matter David. You're not giving a concert. And look they'll be coming in on your side and the vehicle park is on the opposite side . When you reckon they're real close do 'Pure of Heart' again and that will be the signal for me to start the fire."

"Stat your singing just as it gets dark. They've got up as close as they dare, so try and keep going for about three hours if you can."

It was difficult after this for David to return to being what had become his usual submissive self. Once or twice in the coarse of the day he caught Josh looking at him in a puzzled sort of way.

Then his plans were almost destroyed at their very outset when the fat reporter and Nigel reappeared. They settled down to drink with Pieter. It was becoming dark and David was just about to slip away when Nigel asked after those "two lovely boys" he'd had such fun with last time he had been there.

"They're down in the pens," Pieter said carelessly. "If you want to see them David will take you."

"That'll be lovely and there are lots of other naked black boys down there? Delicious."

"David come here," Pieter shouted.

David, who was helping Josh prepare vegetables behind the tent and who had over heard this exchange, glanced round desperately. It wouldn't do at all to have Nigel about the pens when he was trying to start the singing. He caught Josh's eye who shook his head. As he went round to the men he picked up a long thin kitchen knife that Josh had been using to cut up meat for the stew. He hid it as well as he could held tight against his side under his arm. He didn't know if Josh had seen him but if he had he said nothing.

It was already dark under the palm trees. Nigel was more than slightly drunk. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and as soon as they were well away from the tent spun him round to face him. He put his arms around David and bent to try to kiss him on the lips. David responded enthusiastically wrapping his left arm tight about the mans neck and opening his mouth to allow the man's tongue to enter. Suddenly he thrust the knife into the man's stomach slashing upwards with all his strength. He felt the mans warm blood soaking the front of his bare body. He fought to keep his mouth pressed tight against the man's as Nigel staggered and then fell to the floor. Once he was sure that the man was beyond crying for help he rose from his body and sloped quietly off towards the pens.

David had no difficulty in getting in among the other boys. They were all very quiet, which was not surprising since they new that the next day they were going to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder. He realised that getting them to sing might be a more difficult task than he had thought. The problem was solved by the boys very silence. Very faintly in the distance came a faint growl of engines running. David felt the boy next to him tense. There had been engine noise all week as prospective customers arrived but it had been to the North now the sound was coming from the opposite direction. The boys stirred and murmured together.

"Sing," David whispered to the boy next to him and started to do so himself. One by one the boys picked up the song first in Pieter's pen then in the surrounding ones. The noise of the motors grew nearer and the boys voices rose in volume. Callan Llan finished, a clear boys voice from a neighbouring pen struck up the ANC anthem. Political songs, hymns and popular songs followed each other. The boys voices now were full of hope and edged with anger. David could hear the motors very near now. He began to sing "Pure of Heart" once more.

Pieter had fallen asleep over his drink. He was woken by the singing. He did not like the sound. He looked about him. The fat reporter was slumped at the table in a drunken slumber. Josh was standing on the edge of the decking listening. There was no sign of either Nigel or David.

Pieter cursed and scrambled to his feet. He got his pistol holster and a torch from the tent and set off towards the slave pens. Josh waited a moment and then picking up the bottle of whisky followed him.

Pieter stumbled over something soft in the dark. He switched on his torch. It was Nigel's body. The man was very dead. Ants were busy about the congealed blood that had gushed from the gaping cut that had laid opened his stomach. Pieter swore again and broke into a lumbering run.

He arrived at the pens just as the boys had begun to sing "Pure of Heart" for the secondtime. He switched on his torch and it's beam fell straight on David who was now standing up to encourage the others to sing. Pieter saw the dark blood stain down the boy's chest and legs. He grabbed for his pistol. A dark shadow appeared behind him and there was a dull thud. Pieter slumped to the ground.

It was at that moment that Michael fired the vehicle park. The blaze lit the sky and in it's light David saw Josh, still holding the neck of the shattered whisky bottle, standing over Pieter. Josh raised his hand and vanished into the shadows.

Pieter was still for the moment but David did not know how long that would last. He darted over to him and pulled the pistol out of his holster. He settled himself on the ground facing the man. There would be a safety catch he thought. He had heard about them. He examined the gun and pushed a leaver on the side of it's butt upwards. That was probably it he thought.

Flares burst high in the sky illuminating the ground below. A voice magnified by a loud hailer shouted.

"You are all surrounded surrender now. You are all surrounded. You are all surrounded," and was followed by a burst of automatic gunfire.

Pieter sat up blood was streaming down his forehead from a cut in his scalp. His eyes focused uncertainly on David.

"That gun would be more use," he said, "if you had the safety catch off." He gathered himself for a spring at the boy.

David thought he had put the catch off. He thought he had better check. He pointed the gun slightly away from Pieter and pulled the trigger. As he said quite a few times afterwards, he didn't know the gun would jump about when he fired it did he? Anyway it was quite unfair the way people were always blaming him for things he couldn't help.

The safety catch was off. Pieter screamed and grasped his two hands to his crutch. Dark blood welled out between his fingers.

"I said David that twelve year old boys and automatics don't go well together." Mark leaning on a stick hobbled out of the shadows.

"I really think David," Mark continued looking down at Pieter's writhing body and lifting his voice so that it could be heard over his screams, "that having broken a whisky bottle over his head it was over doing things to shoot him as well."

"I didn't hit him over the head," David said. He was an honest boy and would not take credit where it was not due.

"Well who did then?"

David was about to tell him and then remembered Mark was not only a friend, he was authority. He said nothing.

"Ah well," Mark remarked equably, "I expect there are a few things that had better stay secret for a time."

"Well Doctor, is that man going to live to stand trial?"

The man who was kneeling by Pieter looked up.

"He'll live but I doubt he'll have any more children." He didn't sound at all sympathetic.

Things went well after the attack on the oasis. Josh had disappeared completely as had five thousand gold sovereigns that Pieter claimed to have kept hidden in his tent for emergencies. The Daily Sludge and it's sister papers, for whom the fat reporter and Nigel worked had when faced by irrefutable evidence of the activities of its' employees, chosen enthusiastic support for the Malouans in preference to exposure. Nobody seemed at all bothered about Nigel's death and that included David. The fat reporter had lost his job. Pieter was making a painful recovery from his wound in the prison hospital and was shortly to face charges which if proved would see him in gaol until he was about ninety. There remained only one problem, but it was a very important one for David, his British relatives wanted him to come home where he "belonged ". The Malouan Attorney General however announced that under the customary law of that country the care of a child left without any known blood relatives resident in the country passed into the care of the family with which the child was actually living subject only to the agreement of the child involved. He then remarked to the President that he had no idea if that was the law but he reckoned it would take at least six years to sort the thing out if he set his mind to it and by then David would be eighteen.

Mark alone was uneasy. David and Michael had assured him that they would continue to assist him deal with any problems that arose in his District.

The End