Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 80, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 April 1913 — James Ward Rogers [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

James Ward Rogers

Ute Intfidndof die lamous American Ivory fbacher

Uncrowned

COPYft/C/fT 0Y MPCWAY CO.

by W. Robert Foran

___ _ i VERY one will remember the dramatic story, recently given to the world through the daily press, of the death of James Ward Rogers, I the American elephant-poacher, in the Congo. The name Rogers-prob-ably conveyed nothing to many < millions all over the world until the story of his tragic end was published broadcast. Yet so many who

have traveled in Stanley’s "Darkest Africa” —the territory which witnessed the truly remarkable end of an adventurous career—the details of the dramatic chasb through the jungles and its still more dramatic conclusion will not be a mere pipe-dream. There must be many others in America besides myself who have been through this section of Central Africa and to whom Rogers was known personally. And to us the story brings regrets, for Rogers was a fine type of man, even though his latter days were spent in outlawry and defiance of lawfully constituted authority. In order that the causes which led up to the tragedy may be better understood, it is necessary to touch lightly upon history and political facts. Many may recall that the British government leased the strip of the Congo territory known as the Lado Enclave —a long strip stretching along the banks of the Nile from the southernmost extremity of Lake Albert to Klro, on the edge of Sudan —to the late King Leopold of the Belgians, for the duration of his lifetime. On his death, it passed back into British hands and, incidentally; under the control of the Sudan officials. Prior to this —that is to say, under Leopold’s rule—the Lado Enclave was the happy huntingground of a band of British and foreign ivorypoachers. The Belgian administration -of the Lado was a mere farce. Officials were few and far between and the natives did as they willed, without fear of let or hindrance. It must be remembered, however, that if any of the poachers were caught red-handed with the poached ivory, they were sent to the Belgian Congo capital, Leopoldsville, on the Congo river, to undergo ten years* hard labor in a chain-gang. This little pleasantry of punishment was the worse imaginable. They were chained round the neck and fastened to a long string of the worst native malefactors. Their legs were riveted into chains and round their middles were other heavy chains, supporting the enormous leg-irons. All day these poor wretches worked in the forests or in the open, under a blazing sun, goaded on to further labor by the extreme brutalities of their hard-hearted guards. White man and negro were treated alike. • No 'favors were shown to any of them. It may be safely stated that the death of Rogers closes the long chapter of lawless elephant poaching ih the Congo. For years the Lado Enclave was known as “No Man’s Land;” but it is not so now, for the Sudan government assumed control in June, 1910, and set about exterminating the poaching industry. On my arival at Mongalla,. the southernmost post of the Sudan on the Nile in those days, 1 had the good fortune to meet my old comrade in arms, Capt. C. V. Fox of the Egyptian army, and discused at length wgh him the prospects of routing out the ivory-poachers. At the time I little thought that, a trifle over two years later, Captain Fox would be the central figure with Rogers in one of the most dramatic and exciting stories of real adventure which has ever come out of the Congo, or, for that matter, Africa. But we who know our Africa have learned to be surprised at nothing. Part of this remarkable story comes to me direct from my old friend Captain Fox and part from othpr friends .in Africa. Captain Fox’s story lacks a "good many details, for the. modesty of the British soldier is reflected throughout his narrative. There are many points you and I would like to have cleared up, but either Fox’s--Inodesty or his sense of what is due to a dying man's last request prevent the elucidation of the blank spaces. For instance, we would like to know who is the doctor referred to by Rogers and Captain Fox. Maybe we shall never know! lips are sealed by death and the lips of Captain Fox are sealed by a dying man’s last charge. The “doctor" must go down to posterity as a figure of mystery, unless the Belgians disclose his name. We know that be was the boon companion of Rogers and we have the latter’s statement that he was Innocent of poaching. One must sympathize with Rogers, even if one disapproves of his breaches of the law. His is a picturesque figure and he died as, no doubt, he would have wished to have died —with his face to the front and shielding his comrade, the mysterious doctor. ( Rogers was an American who, at different times, was a resident of many cities in California. He had spent many years of his life in an unquenchable search after adventure —with a big A —until he found his heart’s desire in Central Africa. He joined in the rush to the Klondike in the late nineties and after his return he entirely disappeared until the news came of his death in Africa. 'After trying first one thing and then another in Africa, he turned his hand to elephant poaching, and here he found his true element of adventure. He got the natives of the. Lado Enclave under his control so that they did his every bidding and acted as his allies. He established an organized administration over the wild, trackless country, and, among these naked savages, who had hitherto known no master, was virtually a king, even if he was un uncrowned monarch. Time after time he evaded capture .by Sudan and Belgian officials. And, finally, we know' that he eluded « hot pursuit for ever six weeks. Entering the Lado Enclave with his white companion, he set to work, to make the unruly and hitherto unsubdued natives subservient to his will—and even more than that, for he made them stanch allies. On the approach of government officials the natives would give him ample warning so that he could escape. Then he traveled about the country tintil he saw a good site for his headquarters, where he could store his ivory, ammunition and supplies. The next thing to do was to train a band of natives to act as soldiers. AU now being ready, he proceeded to mark

down the good herds’of elephants in his vicinity.

His native spies were trained to bring him early information of the approach of a goqd herd. No sooner did- he get news of some big tuskers than he set forth through the thorn scrub, under a blazing tropical sun, to track them. Creeping on all-fours through the bushes and fifteen-foot-high grass, he made his way into the center of the herd and selected his bulls. He would follow them up until he had killed' off all the best tuskers in the herd. Then would come the cutting up of the elephants and the hewing out of their giant ivory teeth. At last the Sudan government determined to stand this brazen lawlessness no longer. A messenger was dispatched to Rogers warning him to come in and surrender, or else, declared the officials, he would not be spared. His answer was typical of the man: “If yoh want me, come and get me.” Now Captain Fox, inspector of the Mongalla province in the Sudan, did' want Rogers and, moreover, wanted him badly. He accepted the challenge, after first sending word to Rogers that he proposed to bring him into Mongalla, “dead or alive.” Rogers laughed when he read the - message. Back came the answer, on the foot of the same official note: “I am waiting. Come and get me.” Captain Fox set forth from Mongalla in pursuit of this daring outlaw with the meager force of a Sudanese non-commissioned officer arffi six Sudanese soldiers and a few native carriers and mules for the conveyance of supplies. Up the banks of the Nile went the little party of soldiers and their white leader and ever in advance of them was the fearless Rogers, laughing in his sleeve and content in the belief that be could outwit the most determined pursuit. But he had misjudged the caliber of the man who had been sent after him. ■ Day by day the little party, kept on down the Nile, up the Nile, across the Nile, first in the Congo territory and then in Uganda territory. Doubling and redoubling on their tracks, they never gave up hope. Something of the spirit which must have possessed both pursuer and pursued can be gleaned from the story of the final meeting between these two men. Worn out, wet and hungry, Fox and his party reached a village late one night. Here they learned that the poachers had shot a native for disobeying an order given by Rogers. This had happened only that morning, so now they were hot on the trail of Rogers. Despite their pitiable condition, on learning of this murder Captain Fox and his weary men at once set out in the dark in pursuit They traveled all that night and the greater part of the next day. Toward sunset they came in sight of an immense village square, around which were posted a hundred of the armed native followers of the poacher. Slowly Captain Fox advancd until he stood in the center of the armed men. “Where is the white man, your master?” he asked authoritatively. / The armed natives watched him sullenly, without vouchsafing reply. At last, after what seemed like hours to the captain, one of the natives pointed silently toward a large house in the center of the village. Fox approached the house indicated, with his rifle cocked andTready for instant use in case of need. He halted a few paces from the house and summoned Rogers to come out and surrender. No reply came to the first summons and so he repeated it twice more. All remained as silent as the grave and Fox began to suspect treachery. But he kept his eyes on the door. Suddenily it opened; and a native servant came out and saluted Fox. "The commandant wants you to come in,” he said, in his native dialect. “He is sick, and can not come out to you.” At first it looked suspicious, but Fox decided to risk any-trap. He walked toward the house and left his rifle outside leaning against the wall. '* hen he called to his soldiers to remain on guard and allow no one to leave the house while he was in it. Then he passed in through the doorway. He found himself in a large dark room, lighted by a single flickering candle. For a moment his eyes failed to see anything, but gradually he became accustomed to the dark light and made -out the figure of a white man lylhg on a camp cot. Beside him sat another white man, who was unknown to Fox. He had heard that there was another white man with Rogers, whom the natives called "Doctor,” but his identity had never been learned by the government. Surrounding the bed were ten armed followers of Rogers, who eyed the soldier with sullen suspicion. Fox stood Inside the, door and looked from one white man to the other. "Which is Mr. Rogers?" he asked, breaking the strained silence. "Mr. Rogers has been shot,” replied the white man sitting beside the cot, with a growl of anger. “Yea, and by your men.” , The man on the bed spoke thickly and as if in great pain. "I am sorry, very sorry, indeed, that you have been wounded, Mr. Rogers." Fox talked slowly forward to the bed. ‘I hope it is not serious, but certainly you are mistaken in thinking my soldiers did it.” “No!” Rogers thundered at him, partly rising in bed and falling back with a groan. The other white man tried to soothe him. "It was by the soldiers you sent here to arrest me,” he continued, with bitter hate. ' “There were three of my men on ahead of me, it is true,” Fox replied, "but I am convinced they would not have shot at you or interfered with you.” The man on the bed eyed the soldier sternly, without answering. For a few moments there was silence. “Come and stand right here so that I can have a look at you,” Rogers ordered Fox suddenly. “Now. tell me what you want with me.” Captain Fox, being still unarmed, went and stood beside the bed. Under the red blankets covering Rogers could be seen the shape of a heavy revolver. It was pointing straight at Fox’s breast. Rogers’ eyes were blazing. Still the soldier did not flinch

“Well, you’re a cool one,” Rogers admitted grudgingly. "Do you know I have you covered with my Colt?” “Yes,, but you won’t dare to shoot,” Fox laughed quietly. “Won’t dare! Why not, I should like to know?” Rogers answered back. “I have over a hundred armed men outside and you only have four men with you, so my men tell me/’ “Nevertheless, you won’t dare shoot me or molest my men.« You are under arrest, Mr. Rogers, for illicit ivory-poaching, murder, entering a closed district without a permit, and carrying a gun without a license." "So that is what I am charged with, is it?” Rogers smiled grimly. "Have you no other charges to prefer?” “You’re wounded now. Let all that rest until you are better.” “No, I’m a dying man, I guess. Do‘you know you’re in the Belgian territory, that you are surrounded I by my men, and that you stand more chance of arrest than I do?” “You are mistaken. I am not in Belgian territory and we need not discuss the chances of my arrest.” Captain Fox deemed it wise not to excite the man any more and silently withdrew from the room. Once outside, he set to work to disarm the followers of the dying Rogers. This was soon accomplished, for they were cowed, now that their leader was helpless. In the middle of a native servant came to Captain Fox to say that Rogers was dying, and that he wished to speak to the officer. The soldiers did not want him to go into the house again. But Captain Fox was not to be deterred. ! As he entered the houde, Rogers turned to his white companion, saying: “Doctor, I wisKyou to hear and be a witness to what I am going to say to Captain Fox. I surrender myself voluntarily to the Sudan government. I want you to see that the doctor gets into no trouble over this affair, captain. I believe I am a dying man, so that I am not going to He about it. This was my show and all my work. The doctor is blameless.” On the following afternoon the three soldiers who had been sent on ahead arrived at the village and gave Captain Fox an account of their experience. They stated that on arriving in the poacher’s stronghold Rogers ordered them to give up their arms. He seized his Mauser rifle and opened fire with it and a revolver. His companion, the doctor, also fired on the soldiers with a Winchester. Others attacked them with Winchesters and with arrows. Had it not been almost dark, the soldiers would have been killed and, as it was, they all had narrow escapes, all of them being hit. ' In the fighting, Rogers was struck by a soldier’s bulletj which lodged hear the hip, but he walked to his house and sat down in a chair. By this time Captain Fox was satisfied that he was on Belgian territory and wrote to the Belgian commandant to explain the occurrence. Two days later the Belgian officer arrived on the scene with a large escdrt of troops. The day after the arrival of the Belgians, Rogers was obviously dying, and sent for Fox. He was conscious to the end, and described his symptoms. “Say, captain, you are a big fellow and strong. Lift me up once more —for the last time," he muttered. "I shall not be here tomorrow. -I’m still pretty heavy, ain’t I?” Fox leaned over him and gently raised him on the bed, with his arms under the dying man’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rogers,” he said. “But you brought this on yourself.” “I know, old man. You’re all right. I would rather have surrendered to you than any one. Good-bye, Doe. Good-by, captain. Remember, the doctor is innocent, all my sh * / His head dropped back as his spirit went to render its last account to its Maker. Gently Fox laid the body of the poacher on the bed and then turned away to escape the sorrow of the doctor, who was deeply unstrung by his friend’s death. And so this map died, far away from his friends and country. Full of courage and grit to the end, his fate was worthy of a better cause. So did the curtain fall upon the most dramatic tragedy in the history of the Congo elephant-poachers.