 CHAPTER XIX TELLS OF MISFORTUNES THAT BEFELL OUR WONDERERS, A FAMILIAR TOYS UNDER NEW ASPECTS, etc., etc. When Harold C. Drift and Disco Lillahammer were stopped in their journey as related in a former chapter by the sudden illness of the bold seaman, an event was impending over them which effectually overturned their plans. This was a sudden descent of a band of armed natives who had been recently driven from their homes by a slaving party. The slavers had taken them by surprise during the night, set their huts on fire, captured their women and children, and slaughtered all the men, accepting those who sought and found safety in flight. It was those who had thus escaped that chance to come upon the camp of our travellers one evening about sunset. Disco was recovering from his attack of fever at the time, though still weak. Harold was sitting by his couch of leaves in the hut which had been erected for him on the first day of the illness. Jumbo was cutting up a piece of flesh for supper and Antonio was putting the kettle on the fire. The rest of the party were away in the woods hunting. No guard was kept, consequently the savages came down on them like a thunderbolt and found them quite unprepared to resist even if resistance had been of any use. At first their captors bitterly infuriated by their recent losses proposed to kill their prisoners without delay by means of the most excruciating tortures that they could invent, but for some unknown cause changed their minds, coupled Harold and Disco together by means of two slave sticks tied Antonio and Jumbo with ropes and drove them away. So suddenly was the thing done and so effectually that Disco was far from the camp before he could realize that what had occurred was a fact and not one of the wild feverish dreams that had beset him during his illness. The natives would not listen to the earnest explanation of Antonio that Harold and Disco were Englishmen and haters of slavery. They scowled as they replied that the same had been said by the slavers who had attacked their village, from which remark it would seem that Yusuf was not quite the originator of that device to throw the natives off their guard. The Portuguese of Teite on the Zambezi had also thought of and acted on it. Fortunately it was, as we have said, near sunset when the capture was made, and before it became quite dark the band encamped else must poor Disco has succumbed to weakness and fatigue. The very desperation of his circumstances, however, seemed to revive his strength. For next morning he resumed his journey with some hope of being able to hold out. The continued protestations and assurances of Antonio also had the effect of inducing their captors to remove the heavy slave sticks from the necks of Harold and Disco, though they did not unbind their wrists. Thus were they led further into the country they knew not wither for several days and nights and at last reached a large village where they were all thrust into a hut and left to their meditations while their captors went to Palaver with the chief man of the place. This chief proved to be a further sighted man than the men of the tribe who had captured the Englishman. His name was Yombo. He had heard of Dr. Livingston and had met with men of other tribes who had seen and conversed with the great traveler. Thus, being of a thoughtful and inquiring disposition, he had come to understand enough of the good white man's sentiments to guard him from being imposed on by pretended Christians. Yombo's name signified, how are you, and was probably bestowed on him because of a strongly benevolent tendency to greet friend and stranger alike with the hearty, howdy-do, sort of expression of face and tone of voice. He was a tall grave man with a commanding firm look and with all a dash of childlike humor and simplicity. On hearing his visitors' remarks about their captives, he had once paid them a visit and a few leading questions put to Harold through Antonio convinced him that the prisoners were true men. He therefore returned to his black visitors, told them that he had perfect confidence in the good faith of the white men, and said that he meant to take charge of them. He then entertained his black brothers hospitably, gave them a few presents, and sent them on their way. This done he returned to his guests and told them that they were free, that their captors were gone, and that they might go where they pleased, but that it would gratify him much if they would consent to spend some time hunting with him in the neighborhood of his village. Now, said Disko after Yombo left them, this is what I call the most uncommon fix that ever was got into by a man since Adam and Eve began housekeeping in the Garden of Eden. I'm not quite sure, replied Harold with a rueful look, that it is absolutely the worst fix, but it is bad enough. The worst of it is that this Yombo has let these rascals off with all our firearms and camp equipage, so that we are absolutely helpless, might as well be prisoners, for we can't quit this village in such circumstances. What's was then that to my mind, sir, is that here we are at sea in the heart of Apraki, without chart, quadrant, compass, or rudder, and no more idea of our whereabouts than one of the spider monkeys that grins among the trees. However, we're in luck to fall into the hands of a friendly cheat, so like these same monkeys we must grin and bear it, only I can't help feeling a bit downcast at the loss of our messmates. I fear there's no chance of their finding us. Not the least chance in the world, I should say, returned Harold. They could not guess in which direction we had gone, and unless they had hit on the right road at first, every step they took afterwards would only widen the distance between us. It's lucky I was beginning to mend before we was catched, said Disko, feeling the muscles of his legs. True, I ain't much to boast of yet, but I'm unproven. That is more than I can say for myself, returned Harold with a sigh, as he passed his hand across his forehead. I feel as if this last push through the woods in the hot sun, and the weight of that terrible slave stick had been almost too much for me. Disko looked earnestly and anxiously into the face of his friend. What, Asti, does you feel? I can scarcely tell, replied Harold with a faint smile. Oh, I suppose I'm a little knocked up, that's all. A knight's rest will put me all right. So I thought myself, but I was wrong, said Disko. Let's hear what your feelings is, sir. I'm as good as any doctor now I am in regard to symptoms. Well, I feel a sort of all-overishness. A kind of lassitude and sleepiness, with a slight headache, and a dull pain which appears to be creeping up my spine. You're in for it, sir, said Disko. It's lucky you have always carried the physique in your pockets, because you'll need it, and it's lucky, too, that I am here and well enough to return tit for tat and nurse you, because you'll have that ear pain in your spine creep up your back and around your ribs till it lays hold to your shoulders, where it'll stick as if it had made up its mind to stay there forever and a day. After that, you'll get cold and shivering like ice. Oh, doesn't I know it well, and then hottest fire with heavy head, and swimmin' eyes and twisted sight, and confusion of, hold, hold, cried Harold laughing. If you go on in that way, I shall have more than my fair share of it. Pray stop and leave me a little to find out for myself. Well, sir, take a purge and turn in at once, that's my advice. I'll does you with quinine tomorrow morning, first thing, said Disko, rising and proceeding forthwith to arrange a couch in a corner of the hut, which Yambo had assigned them. Harold knew well enough that his follower was right. He took his advice without delay, and next morning found himself little better than a child, both physically and mentally, for the disease not only prostrated his great strength, as it had that of his equally robust companion, but at a certain stage induced delirium, during which he talked the most ineffable nonsense that his tongue could pronounce or his brain conceived. Poor Disko, who, of course, had been unable to appreciate the extent of his own delirious condition, began to fear that his leader's mind was gone forever, and Yambo was so depressed by the unutterably solemn expression of the mariner's once jovial countenance that he did not once show his teeth for a whole week, saved when engaged with meals. As for Antonio, his nature not being very sympathetic and his health being good, he rather enjoyed the quiet life and good living which characterized the native village and secretly hoped that Harold might remain on the sick list for a considerable time to come. How long this state of affairs lasted we cannot tell, for both Harold and Disko lost the correct record of time during their respective illnesses. Up to that period they had remembered the days of the week, in consequence of their habit of refraining from going out to hunt on Sundays, except when a dearth of meat in the larder rendered hunting a necessity. Upon these Sundays Harold's conscience sometimes reproached him for having set out on his journey into Africa without a Bible. He whispered to himself at first and afterwards suggested to Disko the excuse that his Bible had been lost in the wreck of his father's vessel and that perhaps there were no Bibles to be purchased in Zanzibar, but his conscience was a troublesome one and refused to tolerate such bad reasoning, reminding him reproachfully that he had made no effort whatever to obtain a Bible at Zanzibar. As time had passed and some of the horrors of the slave trade had been brought under his notice, many of the words of Scripture lead to his remembrance and the regret that he had not carried a copy with him increased. That touch of thoughtlessness, so natural to the young and healthy to whom life has so far been only a garden of roses, was utterly routed by the stern and dreadful realities which had been recently enacted around him, and just in proportion as he was impressed with the lies, tyranny, cruelty, and falsehood of man, so did his thoughtful regard for the truth and the love of God increase, especially those truths that were most directly opposed to the traffic in human flesh, such as love your enemies, seek peace with all men, be kindly affectioned one to another, whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them. An absolute infundal, he thought, could not fail to perceive that a most blessed change would come over the face of Africa if such principles prevailed among its inhabitants, even in an extremely moderate degree. But to return, the unfortunate travelers were now at sea altogether in regard to the Sabbath as well as the day of the month. Indeed, their minds were not very clear as to the month itself. How's ever, said Disco, when this subject afterwards came to be discussed, it don't matter much. What is it that the Scripture says, Six days shall thou labor and do all that thou hast to do, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God. In it thou shalt do no work. I was used always to stick at that point when my poor mother was a teaching of me, never got past it, but it's enough for present use anyhow, for the orders is work six days and don't work the seventh. Very good, we'll begin today and call it Monday. We'll work for six days and when the seventh day comes we'll call it Sunday. If it ain't the right day, we can't help it. Moreover, what's the odds? It's the seventh day, so that to us it'll be the Sabbath. But we anticipate Harold was still at the beginning of this digression in the delirium of fever, though there were symptoms of improvement about him. One afternoon one of these symptoms was strongly manifested in a long, profound slumber. While he slept, Disco sat on a low stool beside him, busily engaged with a class-knife on some species of manufacturer, the nature of which was not apparent at a glance. His admirer, Jumbo, was seated on a stool opposite, gazing at him open-mouth with the countenance that reflected every passing feeling of his dusky bosom. Both men were so deeply absorbed in their occupation, Disco in his manufacturer, and Jumbo in staring at Disco, that they failed for a considerable time to observe that Harold had waken suddenly, though quietly, and was gazing at them with a look of lazy, easygoing surprise. The mariner kept up a running commentary on his work, addressed to Jumbo, indeed, but in a quiet, interjectional manner that seemed to imply that he was merely soliloquizing, and did not want or expect a reply. It's the most extraordinary notion, Jumbo, between you and me and the post that I ever did see. Now then, this here bullet-head wants a pair of eyes and a nose on it. The mouth will do, but it's the mouth as is most troublesome. For you niggers have got such weapon muscles, it's quite a caution, as the Yankees say. A pause. On the whole. However, the nose is very difficult to manage on a flat surface, because why? If I leaves it quite flat, it don't look like a nose, and if I cars it out ever so little, it's too prominent for a nigger nose. There, ain't that a good-head Jumbo? Thus directly appealed to, Jumbo nodded his own head violently, and showed his magnificent teeth from ear to ear, gums included. Disco laid down the flat piece of board which he had carved into the form of a human head, and took up another piece which was rudely blocked out into the form of a human leg, both leg and head being as large as leg. Now, this limb, Jumbo, continued Disco, slowly, as he whittled away with a clasped knife vigorously, is much more troublesome than I would have expected. For you niggers have got such an abdominally ill-shaped legs below the knee. There's no such unnatural bend for it of a shin bone and such a ridiculous sticking out of a heel of a stern. Do you see that a feller with white man notions has to make a study of it, if he sets up for an artist? In course, if he don't set up for an artist any sort of shape will do, for it don't affect the jumping. Ha! There they go, he exclaimed, with a humorous smile at the hearty shout of laughter which was heard just outside the hut, enjoying the olden, but it's nothing to what the new one will be when it's finished. At this exhibition of amusement on the countenance of his friend, Jumbo threw back his head and again showed not only his teeth and gums, but the entire inside of his mouth, and chuckled softly from the region of his breastbone. I'm dreaming, of course, thought Harold, and shut his eyes. Poor fellow, he was very weak, and the mere act of shutting his eyes induced a half slumber. He awoke again in a few minutes and reopening his eyes beheld the two men still sitting and occupied as before. It is a wonderfully pertinacious dream, thought Harold. I'll try to dissipate it. Thinking thus he called out aloud. I say, disco! Hello, that's uncommon like the old tones, exclaimed the seaman, dropping his knife and the leg of wood as he looked anxiously at his friend. What old tones, asked Harold. The tones of your voice, said disco. Have they changed so much of late? inquired Harold in surprise. Have they? I should think they have just. Why, you haven't spoke like that, sir, for— But surely, are you better, and is this only another dodge for your madness? asked disco with a troubled look. Ah, I suppose I've been delirious. Have I? said Harold with a faint smile. To this, disco replied that he had not only been delirious, but stark-staring mad, and expressed a very earnest hope that now he had got his senses hauled taught again. He'd belay them and make all fast for, if he didn't, it was his disco's opinion that another breeze of the same kind would blow him all to ribbons. Moreover, continued disco firmly, you're not to talk. I once nursed the messmate through a fever, and I remember that the doctor was very particular when he began to come round in order in him to hold his tongue and keep quiet. You are right, disco. I will keep quiet, but you must first tell me what you are about, for it has aroused my curiosity, and I can't rest till I know. Well, sir, I'll tell you. But don't go for to make no observations on it. Just keep your mouth shut and your ears open, and I'll do all the joan. Well, you must know, soon after you was took bed, I felt as if I'd like some sort of occupation when sitting here watching you. Jumbo and me's been taking the watch time about, for Antony isn't able to hold the boy, much less you, when you get obstropolis. Well, sir, I had took a sort of fancy for Yombo's youngest boy, for he's a fine, brave little shaver he is, and I thought I'd make him some sort of toy, and it struck me that the thing, as it please him most, that be a jumpin' jack, so I set two, and made him one about a foot high. You never seen such a face of joy as that youngster put on, sir, when I took it to him, and pulled the string. He gave a little squeak of delight he did, took it in his hands, and ran home to show it to his mother. Well, sir, what do you think? The poor boy came back soon after, blubbering and sobbing, as natural as if he'd been an English boy, and he says to Tony, says he, Father's been and took it away from me. I was surprised at this, and went right off to see about it, and when I come to Yombo's hut, what does I see but the chief pulling the string of the jumpin' jack, and grinnin' and sniggerin' like a blue-faced baboon in a passion. His wife, likewise, standin' by, holdin' her sides with laughin'. Well, sir, the moment I goes in, up gets the chief, and shouts for Tony, and tells him to tell me that I must make him a jumpin' jack. In course I says I'd do it with all the pleasure in life, and he says that I must make it full-size, as big as itself. I opened my eyes at this, but he said he must have a thing that was fit for a man, a chief, so there was nothing for it, but to set to work. And it weren't difficult to manage, neither, for they supplied me with slabs of timber, an inch thick, and I soon blocked out the body and limbs with a hatchet, and polished them off of my knife, and then put them together. When the big jack was all right, Yambo took it away, for he'd watched me all the time I was at it, and fixed it up to the branch of a tree, and set to work. I never, no I never did, continued Disco slapping his right thigh, while Jumbo grinned in sympathy. See, such a big baby as Yambo became, when he got that monstrous jumpin' jack into action. With his courtiers all around him, their faces blazin' was surprised, and convulsed with laughter. The chief himself was too hard at work to laugh much. He could only glare and grin, for big and strong though he is, the jack was so awful heavy that it took all his weight and muscle, haulin' on the rope which occupied the place of the string that we're used to. Hall away, my hearty, thought I, when I see'd him heavin' blowin' and sweatin' at the jack's halyards, you'll not break that rope in a hurry. But I was wrong, sir, for although the halyards held on all right, I had not calculated on such while in action at the joints. All of a sudden, off comes a leg at the knee. It was goin' the upward kick at the time, and went up like a rocket, slapped through a troop of monkeys that was a lookin' on a loft, which had scattered like foam in a gale. Yambo didn't seem to care a pinch of stuff. His blood was up. The sweat was runnin' off him like rain. High he cries he, givin' another most awful tug. But it wasn't high that time, for the other leg came off at the hip joint on the down kick and went straight into the bosom of a black warrior, and floored him worse than he ever was floored since he took to fightin'. Yambo didn't care for that either. He gave another haul with all his might which proved too much for Jack without his legs, for it threw his arms out with such force that they jammed hard and fast as if the poor critter was howlin' for mercy. Yambo looked awful blank at this. Then he turned sharp round and looked at me for all the world as if he meant to say, what do ye mean by that, eh? He shall not a lick into him like that, says Ida Tony. The figure ain't made to be drove by a six-horsepower steam engine, but tell him I'll fix it up with gents that'll stand pullin' by an elephant, and I'll make him another Jack to the full as big as that one and twice as strong. This, at a disco in conclusion, taking up the head on which he had been engaged, is the new Jack. The Owlins outside workin' away at this moment like a windmill. Listen, don't ye hear them? Harold listened and found no difficulty in hearing them, for peals of laughter and shrieks of delight burst forth every few minutes, apparently from a vast crowd outside the hut. I do believe, said Disco, rising and going towards the door of the hut, that you can see him for where you lay. He drew aside the skinned doorway as he spoke, and there sure enough was the gigantic jumping Jack hanging from the limb of a tree, clearly defined against the sky, and galvanically kicking about its vast limbs, with Yambo pulling fiercely at the tail, and the entire tribe looking on steeped in ecstasy and admiration. It may easily be believed that the sight of this coupled with Disco's narrative was almost too much for Harold's nerves, and for some time he exhibited to Disco's horror a tendency to repeat some antics which would have been much more appropriate to the jumping Jack, but after a warm drink administered by his faithful, though rough nurse, he became composed and finally dropped into a pleasant sleep, which was not broken till late the following morning. Refreshed in body, happy in mind, and thankful in spirit, he rose to feel that the illness against which he had fought for many days was conquered, and that although still very weak, he had fairly turned the corner and had begun to regain some of his wanted help and vigor. 20. Harold Appears in a New Character The mind of Yambo was a strange compound, a curious mixture of gravity and rollicking joviality, at one time displaying a phase of intense solemnity, at another exhibiting quiet pleasantry and humor, but earnestness was the prevailing trait of his character. Whether indulging his passionate fondness for the jumping Jack or engaged in guiding the deliberations of his counselors, the earnest chief was equally devoted to the work in hand. Being a savage and consequently led entirely by feeling, which is perhaps the chief characteristic of savage, as distinguished from civilized man, he hated his enemies with exceeding bitterness and loved his friends with all his heart. Yambo was very tender to Harold during his illness, and the latter felt corresponding gratitude, so that there sprang up between the two a closer friendship than one could have supposed to be possible, considering that they were so different from each other mentally, physically, and socially, and that their only motive of exchanging ideas was through the medium of a very incompetent interpreter. Among other things, Harold discovered that his friend the chief was extremely fond of antidotes and stories. He, therefore, while in a convalescent state, and unable for much physical exercise, amused himself and spent much of his time in narrating to him the adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Yambo's appetite for mental food increased, and when Crusoe's tale was finished, he eagerly demanded more. Some of his warriors also came to hear, and at last the hut was unable to contain the audiences that wished to enter. Harold, therefore, removed to an open space under a banyan tree, and there daily for several hours related all the tales and narratives with which he was acquainted to the hundreds of open-eyed and open-mouthed negroes who squatted around him. At first he selected such tales as he thought would be likely to amuse, but these being somewhat soon exhausted, he told them about anything that chanced to recur to his memory. Then finding that their power to swallow the marvelous was somewhat crocodileish, he gave them Jack the Giant Killer, and Jack of Beanstalk Notoriety, and Tom Thumb, Cinderella, etc. Until his entire nursery stock was exhausted, after which he fell back on his inventive powers. But the labor of this last effort proving very considerable, and the results not being adequately great, he took to history and told them stories about William Tell, and Wallace, and Bruce, and the Puritans of England, and the Scottish Covenanters, and the discoveries of Columbus until the eyes and mouths of his black auditors were held so constantly and widely on the stretch that Disco began to fear they would become gradually incapable of being shut, and he entertained a fear that poor Antonio's tongue would, air long, be dried up at the roots. At last a thought occurred to our hero, which he promulgated to Disco one morning as they were seated at breakfast on the floor of their hut. It seems to me Disco, he said after a prolonged silence, during which they had been busily engaged with their knives and wooden spoons, that illness must be sent sometimes to teach men that they give too little of their thoughts to the future world. Very true, sir, replied Disco, in that quiet matter of coarse tone with which men generally receive axiomatic variedities. We is rather to given swallowed up with this world, which ain't surprising neither, seeing that we've been put into it, and are surrounded by it, mixed up with it, steeped in it, so to speak, and can't very well help ourselves. That last is just the point I'm not quite so sure about, rejoined Harold. Since I've been lying ill here, I have thought a good deal about forgetting to bring a bliver with me, and about the meaning of the term Christian, which name I bear. And yet I can't, when I look honestly at it, see that I do much to deserve the name. Well, I don't quite see that, sir, said Disco, with an argumentative curl of his right eyebrow. You doesn't swear, or drink, or steal, or commit murder, and many other things of that sort. Ain't that the result of your being a Christian? It may be so, Disco, but that is only what may be styled the don't side of the question. What troubles me is that I don't see much on the do side of it. You says you prayer, sir, don't you? asked Disco, with the air of a man who had put a telling question. Well, yes, replied Harold, but what troubles me is that, while in my creed I profess to think the salvation of souls is of such vital importance, in my practice I seem to say that it is of no importance at all. For here have I been for many weeks amongst these black fellows, and have never so much as mentioned the name of our Savior to them, although I have been telling them no end of stories of all kinds, both true and fanciful. There's something in that, sir, admitted Disco. Harold also thought there was so much in it that he gave the subject a great deal of earnest consideration, and finally resolved to begin to tell the Negro's Bible stories. He was thus gradually led to tell them that old, old story of God, the Savior's life and death, and love for man, which he found interested, affected, and influenced the savages far more powerfully than any of the tales, whether true or fanciful, with which he had previously entertained them. While doing this a new spirit seemed to actuate himself, and to influence his whole being, while Harold was thus led almost unconsciously to become a sower of the blessed seed of God's word, Marizano was working his way through the country, setting forth in the most extreme manner the ultimate results of man's sinful nature, and the devil's lies. One of his first deeds was to visit a village which was beautifully situated on the banks of a small but deep river. In order to avoid alarming the inhabitants, he approached it with only about thirty of his men, twenty of whom were armed. Arrived at the outskirts, he halted his armed men and advanced with the other ten, calling out cheerfully, We have things for sale! Have you anything to sell? The chief and his warriors armed with their bows and arrows and shields met him, and forbade him to pass within the hedge that encircled the village, but told him to sit down under a tree outside. A mat of split reeds was placed for Marizano to sit on, and when he had explained to the chief that the object of his visit was to trade with him for ivory, in proof of which he pointed to the bails which his men carried, he was well received and a great clapping of hands ensued. Presence were then exchanged and more clapping of hands took place, for this was considered the appropriate ceremony. The chief and his warriors on sitting down before Marizano and his men clapped their hands together and continued slapping on their thighs while handing their presence or when receiving those of their visitors. It was the African, thank you. To have omitted it would have been considered very bad manners. Soon a brisk trade was commenced, in which the entire community became air long deeply and eagerly absorbed. Meanwhile Marizano's armed men were allowed to come forward. The women prepared food for the strangers, and after they had eaten and drunk of the native beer heartily, Marizano asked the chief if he had ever seen firearms used. Yes, replied the chief, but only once at a great distance off. It is told to me that your guns killed very far off, much further than our bows. Is this so? It is true, replied Marizano, who was very merry by this time under the influence of the beer, as indeed were also his men and their entertainers. Would you like to see what our guns can do? asked the half-caste. If you will permit me, I shall let you hear and see them in use. The unsuspecting chief at once gave his consent. His visitors rose, Marizano gave the word. Avalle was poured forth, which instantly killed the chief and twenty of his men. The survivors fled in horror. The young women and children were seized, the village was sacked, which means that the old and useless members of the community were murdered in cold blood, and the place was set on fire. And Marizano marched away with his band of captives considerably augmented, leaving a scene of death and horrible desolation behind him. Note, see Livingston's Zambezi and its tributaries, pages 201 and 202. End of note. Thus did that villain walk through the land with fire and sword, procuring slaves for the supply of the domestic institution of the Sultan of Zanzibar. By degrees the murderers drove a black cattle increase to such an extent that when he approached the neighborhood of the village in which Harold and Disko so drawn, he began to think that he had obtained about as many as he could conveniently manage, and meditated turning his face eastward, little dreaming how near he was to a thousand dollars worth of property in the shape of ransom for two white men. He was on the point of turning back in missing this when he chanced to fall in with a villager who was out hunting, and who after a hot chase was captured. This man was made much of, and presented with some yards of cloth as well as a few beads, at the same time being assured that he had nothing to fear, that the party was merely a slave trading one, that the number of slaves required had been made up, but that a few more would be purchased if the chief of his village had any to dispose of. On learning from the man that his village was a large one, fully two days marched from the spot where he stood, and filled with armed men, Marisano came to the conclusion that it would not be worth his while to proceed thither, and was about to order his informant to be added to his gang with a slave stick around his neck when he suddenly bethought him of inquiring as to whether any white men had been seen in these parts. As he had often made the same inquiry before without obtaining any satisfactory answer, it was with great surprise that he now heard from his captive of two white men being in the very village about which he had been conversing. At once he changed his plan, resumed his march, and a couple of days afterwards presented himself before the astonished eyes of Harold C. Drift and Disco Lillahammer while they were taking a walk about a mile from the village. Disco recognized a slave trader at once, and from the troubled as well as surprised look of Marisano, it was pretty evident that he remembered the countenance of Disco. When the recollection of Marisano's cruelty at the time of their first meeting flashed upon him, Disco felt an almost irresistible desire to rush upon and strangle the Portuguese, but the calm deportment of that wily man and the peaceful manner in which he had approached partly disarmed his wrath. He could not, however, quite restrain his tongue. Ha! said he. You are the black guard that we met and pretty nigh shot when we first came to these parts, eh? Pity we missed you, you black-hearted villain. As Marisano did not understand English, these complimentary remarks were lost on him. He seemed, however, to comprehend the drift of them, for he returned Disco's frown with a stare of defiance. Whatever he was or whatever he is, interposed Harold, we must restrain ourselves just now, Disco, because we cannot punish him as he deserves, however much we may wish to, and he seems to have armed many enough to put us and our entertainers completely in his power. Keep quiet while I speak to him. Jumbo and Antonio armed with those and arrows, for they were in search of small game wherewith to supply the pot, came up looking very much surprised, and the latter a good deal frightened. Ask him, Antonio, said Harold, what is his object in visiting this part of the country? To procure slaves, said Marisano curtly. I thought so, return Harold, but he will find that the men of this tribe are not easily overcome. I do not wish to overcome them, said the half-caste. I have procured enough of slaves as you see, pointing to the gang which was hauled some hundred yards or so in rear of his armed men, but I have heard that you were prisoners here, and I have come to prove to you that even a slave trader can return good for evil. You did this, he said, looking at Disco, and pointing to his old wound in the arm. I now come to deliver you from slavery. Having suppressed part of the truth and supplemented the rest of it with this magnificent lie, Marisano endeavored to look magnanimous. I don't believe a word of it, said Disco, decidedly. I inclined to doubt it too, said Harold, but he may have some good reason of his own for his friendly professions towards us. In any case, we have no resource left but to assume that he speaks the truth. Turning to Marisano, he said, we are not prisoners here. We are guests of the chief of this village. In that case, replied the half-caste, I can return to the coast without you. As he said this, a large band of the villagers, having discovered that strangers had arrived drew near. Marisano at once advanced making peaceful demonstrations, and after the requisite amount of clapping of hands on both sides, stated the object from which he had come. He made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was a slave trader, but said that, having purchased enough of slaves, he had visited their village because of certain rumors to the effect that some white men had been lost in these regions and could not find their way back to the coast. He was anxious, he said, to help these white men to do so, but finding that the white men then at the village were not the men he was in search of and did not want to go to the coast, he would just stay long enough with the chief to exchange compliments and then depart. All this was translated to the white men in question by their faithful ally Antonio, and when they retired to consult as to what should be done, they looked at each other with half amuse and half perplexed expressions of countenance. Very odd, said Disco, how contrary things turns up at times. Very odd indeed, descended Harold laughing. It is quite true that we are, in one sense, lost and utterly unable to undertake a journey through this country without men, means, or arms, and nothing could be more fortunate than that we should have the chance, thus suddenly thrown in our way, of traveling under the escort of a band of armed men. Nevertheless, I cannot bear the idea of traveling with or being indebted to a slave trader and a scoundrel like Marisano. That's where it is, sir, said Disco with emphasis. I could stand anything almost but that. And yet, pursued Harold, it is our only chance. I see quite well that we may remain for years here without again having such an opportunity or such an escort thrown in our way. There's no help for it, I fear, said Disco. We must take it like a dose of nasty fizzy, hold our knobs, shut our daylights, and down with it. The only thing I ain't sure of is your ability to travel. You ain't strong yet. Oh, I'm strong enough now, or very nearly so, and getting stronger every day. Well then, I suppose it's settled that we go? Huh, I'm agreeable, and the whole business very disagreeable, said Disco, making a rye face. Marisano was much pleased when the decision of the white men was made known to him, and the native chief was naturally much distressed, for not only was he about to lose two men of whom he had become very fond, but he was on the point of being bereft of his storyteller, the opener up of his mind, the man who, above all others, had taught him to think about his maker in a future state. He had, since enough, however, to perceive that his guests could not choose but avail themselves of so good an opportunity, and after the first feeling of regret was over, made up his mind to the separation. Next day, Harold and Disco, with feelings of strong revulsion, almost of shame, fell into the ranks of the slay gang, and for many days thereafter marched through the land in company with Marisano and his band of lawless villains. Marisano usually walked some distance ahead of the main body with a few trusty comrades. Our adventurers, with their two followers, came next in order of March, the gang of slaves in single file followed, and the armed men brought up the rear. It was, necessarily, a very long line, and at a distance resembled some hideous reptile crawling slowly and tortuously through the fair fields and plains of Africa. At first there were no stragglers, for the slaves were, as yet, with few exceptions, strong and vigorous. These exceptions and the lazy were easily kept in line by means of rope and chain, as well as the rod and lash. Harold and Disco studiously avoided their leader during the march. Marisano fell in with their humor and left them to themselves. At nights, they made their own fire and cooked their own supper, as far removed from the slave camp as was consistent with safety, for they could not bear to witness the sufferings of the slaves or to look upon their captors. Even the food that they were constrained to eat appeared to have a tendency to choke them, and altogether the situation became so terrible that they several times almost formed the desperate resolution of leading the party and trying to reach the coast by themselves as they best might, but the utter madness and hopelessness of such a project soon forced itself on their minds and ensured its being finally abandoned. One morning Marisano threw off his usual reserve and approaching the white men told them that in two hours they would reach the lake where his employer was encamped. And who is your master? asked Harold. A black-faced or yellow-faced blackered like himself I doubt not, growled Disco. Antonio put Harold's question without Disco's comment and Marisano replied that his master was an Arab trader and added that he would push on in advance of the party and inform him of their approach. Soon afterwards the lake was reached, a large dow was in readiness, the gang was embarked and ferried across to a place where several rude buildings and barracoons with a few tents indicated that it was one of the inland headquarters of the trade in Black Ivory. The moment our travelers landed Marisano led them to one of the nearest buildings and introduced them to his master. Yusuf explained Disco in a shout of astonishment. It would have been a difficult question to have decided which of the three faces displayed the most extreme surprise. Perhaps Disco's would have been awarded the palm, but Yusuf was undoubtedly the first to regain his self-possession. You be surprised, he said in his very broken English, while his pale yellow visage resumed its placid gravity of expression. Undoubtedly we are, said Harold. Bustin explained Disco, you would not be so much surprised did you know that I comes to here every year and that English council asked me for choir about you? If that be so, how comes it that you were surprised to see us? asked Harold. Because why? I only knows that some white man's be lost their cells, not knows what man's, not knows it was you. Well now, cried Disco, unable to restrain himself as he turned to Harold, did ever two unfortunate meet with such luck. Here have we been obliged for days to keep company with the greatest Portuguese villain in the country and now we're need necessitated to be under an obligation to the greatest Arab scoundrel in Africa. The scoundrel in question smiled and shrugged his shoulders. Yusuf cried Disco, clenching his fist and looking full in the trader's eyes. When I last saw your ugly face I vowed that if ever I see it again I'd leave my mark on it pretty deep I did and now I do see it again, but I haven't the moral courage to touch such a poor pitiful, shriveled-up package of bones and half-tanned leather. Moreover, I'm going to be indebted to eat. Ha-ha, he laughed bitterly, and with a dash of wild humor in the tone, to travel under your care and eat your accursed bread and- and oh, there ain't no such thing as shame left in my corpus. I'm a low, mean-spirited, boastful idiot, that's what I am, and I don't care the fag end of a hump of gingerbread who knows it. After this explosion the sorely-tried mariner brought his right hand down on his thigh with a tremendous crack, turned about, and walked away to cool himself. Progress of the Slave Run The Deadly Swamp and the Unexpected Rescue We will now leap over a short period of time, about two or three weeks, during which the sable procession had been winding its weary way over hill and dale, plain and swamp. During that comparatively brief period, Harold and Disco had seen so much cruelty and suffering that they both fell a strange tendency to believe that the whole must be the wild imaginings of a horrible dream. Perhaps weakness, resulting from illness, might have had something to do with this peculiar feeling of unbelief, for both had been subject to a second, though slight, attack of fever. Nevertheless, coupled with their skepticism with a contradictory and dreadful certainty that they were not dreaming, but that what they witnessed was absolute verity, it is probable that if they had been in their ordinary health and vigor, they would have made a violent attempt to rescue the slaves, even at the cost of their own lives, but severe and prolonged illness often unhinges the mind, as well as the body, and renders the spirit all but impotent. One sultry evening the sad procession came to a long stretch of swamp and prepared to cross it. Although already thin by death, the slave gang was large. It numbered several hundreds, and was led by Marasano, Yusuf having started some days in advance in charge of a similar gang. Harold and Disco were by that time in the habit of walking together in front of the gang, chiefly for the purpose of avoiding the sight of cruelties and woes which they were powerless to prevent or assuage. Unreaching the edge of the swamp, however, they felt so utterly wearied and dispirited that they sat down on a bank to rest, intending to let the slave gang go into the swamp before them and then follow in rear. Antonio and Jumbo also remained with them. You should go on in front, said Marasano significantly, on observing their intention. Tell him we'll remain where we are, said Disco sternly to Antonio. Marasano shrugged his shoulders and left them. The leading men of the slave gang were ordered to advance as soon as the armed guard had commenced the toilsome march overground into which they sank knee-deep at every step. The first man of the gang hesitated and heaved a deep sigh as though his heart failed him at the prospect, and well it might, for although young he was not robust and over-driving, coupled with the weight and the chafing of the gore, had worn him to a skeleton. It was not the policy of the slave traders to take much care of their black ivory. They procured it so cheaply that it was easier and more profitable to lose or cast away some of it, than to put off time in resting and recruiting the weak. The moment it was observed, therefore, that the leading man hesitated, one of the drivers gave him a slash across his naked back with a heavy whip which at once drew blood. Poor wretch, he could ill bear further loss of the precious stream of life, who had already been deeply drained from him by the slave-stick. The chafing of that instrument of torture had not only worn the skin off his shoulders, but had cut into the quivering flesh so that blood constantly dropped in small quantities from it. No cry burst from the man's lips on receiving the cruel blow, but he turned his eyes on his captors with a look that seemed to implore for mercy. As well might he have looked for mercy at the hands of Satan, the lash again fell on him with stinging force. He made a feeble effort to advance, staggered, and fell to the ground, dragging down the man to whom he was coupled with such violence as almost to break his neck. The lash was again about to be applied to make him rise, but Disko and Harold rose simultaneously and rushed at the driver, with what intent they scarcely knew, but four armed half-caste stepped between them and the slave. You had better not interfere, said Marisano, who stood close by. Out of the way, cried Harold fiercely, in the strength of his passion hurling aside the man who opposed him. You shan't give him another cut, said Disko between his teeth, as he seized the driver by the throat. We don't intend to do so, said Marisano Cooley, while the driver released himself from the poorer Disko's weakened breast. He won't need any more. The Englishman required no explanation of these words. A glance told them that the man was dying. Cut him out, said Marisano. One of his men immediately brought a saw and cut the fork of the stick which still held the living to the dying man, in which being riveted on them could not otherwise be removed. Harold and Disko lifted him up as soon as he was free, and carrying him a short distance aside to a soft part of the bank, laid him gently down. The dying slave looked as if he were surprised at such unwanted tenderness. There was even a slight smile on his lips for a few moments, but it quickly passed away with the fast ebbing tide of life. Go fetch some water, said Harold. His lips are dry. Disko rose and ran to fill a small coconut shell which he carried at his girdle as a drinking-cub. Returning with it, he moistened the man's lips and poured a little of the cool water on the raw sores on each side of his neck. They were so much engrossed with their occupation that neither of them observed that the slave gang had commenced to pass through the swamp until the sharp cry of a child drew their attention to it for a moment, but knowing that they could do no good, they endeavored to shut their eyes and ears to everything, save the duty they had in hand. By degrees, the greater part of the long line had got into the swamp and were slowly toiling through it under the stimulus of the lash. Some, like the poor fellow who first fell, had sunk under their accumulated trials and, after a fruitless effort on the part of the slavers that drive them forward, had been kicked aside into the jungle, there to die or to be torn in pieces by that ever-watchful scavenger of the wilderness, the hyena. These were chiefly women who, having become mothers not long before, were unable to carry their infants and keep up with the gang. Others, under the intense dread of flagellation, made the attempt and staggered on a short distance only to fall and be left behind in the pestilential swamp where rank reeds and grass closed over them and formed a ready grave. The difficulties of the swamp were, however, felt most severely by the children, who, from little creatures of not much more than five years of age to well-grown boys and girls, were mingled with and chained to the adults along the line. Their comparatively short legs were not well adapted for such ground, and not a few of them perished there. But although the losses here were terribly numerous in one sense, they, after all, bore but a small portion to those whose native vigor carried them through in safety. Among the men there were some whose strength of frame and fierce expression indicated untameable spirits. Men who might have been, probably were, heroes among their fellows. It was for men of this stamp that the goris or slaves that had been invented, and most effectually did that instrument serve its purpose. Samson himself would have been a mere child in it. There were men in the gang quite as bold, if not as strong as Samson. One of these a very tall and powerful negro, on drawing near to the place where Marizano stood, superintending the passage, turned suddenly aside, and although coupled by the neck to a fellow slave, and securely bound at the wrist with a cord which was evidently cutting into his swelled flesh, made a desperate kick at the half-caste leader. Although the slave failed to reach him, Marizano was so enraged that he drew a hatchet from his belt and instantly dashed out the man's brains. He fell dead without even a groan. Terrified by this, the rest passed on more rapidly, and there was no further check till a woman in line with an infant on her back stumbled and falling down appeared unable to rise. Get up, shouted Marizano, whose rage had rather been increased than abated by the murder he had just committed. The woman rose and attempted to advance, but seemed ready to fall again. Seeing this, Marizano plucked the infant from her back, dashed it against the tree, and flung its quivering body into the jungle while a terrible application of the lash sent the mother shrieking into the swamp. Note, see Livingston's Zembezi and its tributaries, page 857, and for a record of cruelty's too horrible to be set down in a book like this, we refer the reader to MacLeod's Travels in Eastern Africa, volume 2, page 26. Also to the appendix of Captain Sullivan's Dow Chasing in Zanzibar Waters, which contains copious and interesting extracts from evidence taken before the select committee of the House of Commons. End of note. Harold and Disko did not witness this, though they heard the shriek of despair, for at the moment the negro they were tending was breathing his last. When his eyes had closed and the spirit had been set free, they rose and purposely refraining from looking back hurried away from the dreadful scene intending to plunge into the swamp at some distance from the place and push on until they should regain the head of the column. Better if we'd never fallen behind, sir, said Disko in a deep, tremulous voice. True, replied Harold, we should have been spared these sights and the pain of knowing that we cannot prevent this appalling misery and cruelty. But surely it is to be prevented somehow, cried Disko almost fiercely. Many a war that has cost mints of money has been carried on for causes that ain't worth mentioning in this same breath with this. As Harold knew not what to say and was toiling knee-deep in the swamp at the moment, he made no reply. After marching about half an hour, he stopped abruptly and said with a heavy sigh, I hope we haven't missed our way. Hope not, sir, but it looks like as if we had. I've been so took up thinking of that accursed traffic and human beings that I've lost my reckoning. Howsoever, we can't be far out, and with the sun to guide us, we'll... He was stopped by a loud halloo in the woods on the bell of the swamp. It was repeated in a few seconds, and Antonio, who with jumbo, had followed his master, cried in an excited tone. Me knows that sound. What may it be, Tony? There was neither time nor need for an answer, for at that moment a ringing cry, something like a bad imitation of a British cheer, was heard, and a bang of men sprang out of the woods and ran at full speed towards our Englishman. Why, Zombo, explained disco wildly. Olivera, cried Harold. Masiko, Sangolo, shouted Antonio and Jumbo. And Jose, Nakoda, Chimbola, Mebruco, the whole bun of them, cried disco. As one after another, these worthies emerged from the woods and rushed in a state of frantic excitement towards their friends. Hooray! Huru-hey! replied the runners. In another minute, our adventurous party of travelers was reunited, and for some time nothing but wild excitement, congratulations, queries that got no replies, and replies that ran tilt at irrelevant queries, with confusion worse confounded by explosions of unbounded and irrepressible laughter, not unmingled with tears with the order of the hour. But what, you's ill? cried Zombo, suddenly, looking at the disco's face with an anxious expression. Well, I ain't exactly ill, nor I ain't exactly well neither, but I'm hearty all the same, and very glad to see your black face, Zombo. Ha! Huru-hey! So knees for see you! cried the excitable Zombo. But come, not good for talking in the knees to water. Fall in boy, ho! Shullaroms, speak, match! That Zombo had assumed command of his party was made evident by the pat way in which he trolled off the words of command formerly taught to him by Harald, as well as by the prompt obedience that was accorded to his orders. He led the party out of the swamp and on reaching a dry spot, hauled it in order to make further inquiries and answer questions. How did you find a Zombo? asked Harald, throwing himself weirdly on the ground. You's ill, said Zombo, holding up a finger by way of review. So I am, though not so ill as I look. But come, answer me, how came you to discover us? You could not have found us by mere chance in this wilderness. Chance? What in chance? asked the Macalolo. There was some difficulty in getting Antonio to explain the word, from the circumstances of himself being ignorant of it. Therefore, Harald put the question in a more direct form. Oh, he comes here, look for you, because people's dreckums showed away. These been weeks, months, oh, days, look for you. Travel far, wrong road, turn and back, try again, find you now. Hooroo, hey! You may say that indeed. I'll have it in my heart, said Disco, to give three good rousin' British cheers if it weren't for the thoughts of that black-hearted villain, Marisano and his poor, miserable slaves. Marisano, shouted Chambolo, glaring at Harald. Marisano, echoed Zombo, glaring at Disco. Harald now explained to his friends that the slave hunter was close at hand. A piece of news which visibly excited them, and described the cruelties of which he had recently been a witness. Zombo showed his teeth like a savage mastiff, and grasped his musket as though he longed to use it. But he uttered no word until the narrative reached that point in which the death of the poor captive was described. Then he suddenly started forward and said something to his followers in the native tongue, which caused each to fling down the small bundle that was strapped to his shoulders. You stop here, he cried earnestly, as he turned to Harald and Disco. These come back soon. Oh, boys, shoulder-umps, quick mash! No trained band of Britons ever obeyed with more ready alacrity. No attention was paid to Harald's question. The quick mash carried them out of sight in a few minutes, and when the Englishmen, who had run after them a few paces, halted under the conviction that in their weak condition they might as well endeavor to keep up with race-horses as with their old friends, they found that Antonio alone remained to keep them company. Where's Jumbo? inquired Harald. Gone way with others, replied the interpreter. Examining the bundles of their friends, they found that their contents were powder, ball, and food. It was therefore resolved that a fire should be kindled and food prepared to be ready for their friends on their return. I'm not so sure about their return, said Harald greatly. They will have to fight against fearful odds if they find the slavers. Foolish fellows, I wish they had not rushed away so madly without consulting us. The day passed, night came and passed also, and another day dawned, but there was no appearance of Jumbo and his men until the sun had been up for some hours. Then they came back, wending their way slowly, very slowly, through the woods with the whole of the slave gang, men, women, and children at their heels. Where is Marzano? inquired Harald, almost breathless with surprise. Dead, said Jumbo. Dead? I, dead, couldn't be deader. And his armed followers, dead too, subalbums. They got Adam in the night, shot at Marzano all to atoms, shot at Mosab on followers too. They rest all scattered like leaves in the wind. Me give up now, added Jumbo, handing his musket to Harald. Boys, or realms, means captain not no more. Now, captain Harald, use once more look after us, and take care of all of them's people. Having thus demitted his charge, the faithful Jumbo stepped back and left our hero in the unenviable position of a half-broken-down man with the responsibility of conducting an expedition and disposing of a large gang of slaves in some unknown part of equatorial Africa. Leaving him there, we will proceed at once to the coast and follow, for a time, the fortunes of that arch-villain, Yusuf. End of Chapter 21, Recording by Tom Weiss, Tom's Audiobooks.com Chapter 22 of Black Ivory by R. M. Valentine This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 22 Describes Black Ivory at Sea Having started for the coast with a large gang of slaves a short time before Marzano, as we have already said, and having left the Englishman to the care of the half-cast, chiefly because he did not desire their company, although he had no objection to the ransom, Yusuf proceeded over the same track which we have already described in part, leaving a bloody trail behind him. It is a fearful track of about 500 miles in length, that which lies between the head of Lake Nyasa and the sea coast at Kilwa. We have no intention of dragging the reader over it to witness the cruelties and murders that were perpetrated by the slavers or the agonies endured by the slaves. Livingston speaks of it as a land of death, of desolation, and dead men's bones, and no wonder for it is one of the main arteries through which the blood of Africa flows like the water of natural rivers to the sea. The slave gangs are perpetually passing eastward through it, perpetually dropping four-fifths of their numbers on it as they go. Dr. Livingston estimates that in some cases not more than one-tenth of the slaves captured reach the sea coast alive. It is therefore rather under than overstating the case to say that out of every hundred starting from the interior, eighty perish on the road. Yusuf left with several thousands of strong and healthy men, women, and children, most of them being children, he arrived at Kilwa with only eight hundred. The rest had sunk by the way either from exhaustion or cruel treatment or both. The loss was great, but as regards the traitor it could not be called severe, because the whole gang of slaves cost him little, some of them even nothing, and the remaining eight hundred would fetch a good price. They were miserably thin indeed and exhibited on their poor, worn, and travel-stained bodies the evidence of many accrual castigation. But Yusuf knew that a little rest and good feeding at Kilwa would restore them to some degree of marketable value, and at Zanzibar he was pretty sure of obtaining in round numbers about ten pounds ahead for them, while in the Arabian and Persian ports he could obtain much more if he chose to pass beyond the treaty-protected water at Lamu and run the risk of being captured by British cruisers. It is piracy to carry slaves north of Lamu. South of that point for hundreds of miles robbery, raping, murder, cruelty, such as devils could not excel if they were to try, is a domestic institution with which Britons are pledged not to interfere. Since the above was written Sir Bartle Puray has returned from his mission, and we are told that a treaty has been signed by the Sultan of Zanzibar putting an end to this domestic slavery. We have not yet seen the terms of this treaty and must go to press before it appears. We have reason to rejoice and be thankful, however, that such an advantage has been gained. But let not the reader imagine that this settles the question of East African slavery. Portugal still holds to the domestic institution in her colonies, and has decreed that it shall not expire till the year 1878. Decreed in fact that the horrors which we have attempted to depict shall continue for five years longer, and let it be noted that the export slave trade cannot be stopped as long as domestic slavery is permitted. Besides this there is a continual drain of human beings from Africa through Egypt. Sir Samuel Baker's mission is a blow aimed at that, but nothing that we know of is being done in regard to Portuguese wickedness. If the people of this country could only realize the frightful state of things that exists in the African Portuguese territory and knew how many thousand bodies shall be racked with torture and souls be launched into eternity during these five years, they would indignantly insist that Portugal should be compelled to stop it at once. If it is righteous to constrain the Sultan of Zanzibar, is it not equally so to compel the king of Portugal? The arch-robber and murderer Yusuf, smooth and oily of face, tongue and manner, though he was, possessed a bold spirit and a grasping heart. The domestic institution did not suit him. Rather than sneak along his villainous course under its protecting pass, he resolved to bid defiance to laws, treaties, and men of war to boot, as many hundreds of his compiers have done and do, and make a bold dash to the north with his eight hundred specimens of black ivory. Accordingly, full of his purpose, one afternoon he sauntered up to the barracoons in which his cattle were being rested and fed up. Musa, his chief driver, was busy among them with a lash, for like other cattle, they had a tendency to rebel, at least a few of them had. The most of them were by that time reduced to the callous condition which had struck Harold and Disco so much on the occasion of their visits to the slave market of Zanzibar. Musa was engaged when Yusuf entered, in whipping most unmercifully a small boy whose piercing shrieks had no influence whatever on his tormentor. Close beside them a large, strong-boned man lay stretched on the ground. He had just been felled with a heavy stick by Musa for interfering. He had raised himself on one elbow, while with his right hand he wiped away the blood that oozed from the wound in his head and appeared to struggle to recover himself from the stunning blow. What has he been doing? asked Yusuf carelessly in Portuguese. Oh, the old story, rebelling, said Musa, savagely hurling the boy into the midst of a group of cowering children, amongst whom he instantly shrank as much as possible out of sight. That brute, pointing to the prostrate man, was a chief it appears in his own country, and has not yet got all the spirit lashed out of him. But it can't last much longer, either the spirit or the life must go. He has carried that little wealth the last part of the way on his back, and now objects to part with him, got fond of him, my fancy. If you had taken my advice, you would have cast them both to the hyenas long ago. You are a bad judge of human flesh, Musa, said Yusuf quietly. More than once you have allowed your passion to rob me of a valuable piece of goods. This man will fetch good price in Persia, and so will his son. I know that the child is his son, though the fool thinks no one knows that but himself, and rather prides himself on the clever way in which he has continued to keep his wealth beside him on the journey down. Bah, what can one expect from such cattle? Don't separate them, Musa. They will thrive better together. If we only get them to market in good condition, then we can sell them in separate lots without risking loss of value from pining. In a somewhat sulky tone, for he was not pleased to be found fault with by his chief, the slave driver ordered out the boy who was little more than five years old, though the careworn expression on his thin face seemed to indicate a much more advanced age. Trembleing with alarm, for he expected a repetition of the punishment, yet not daring to disobey, the child came slowly out from the midst of his hapless companions and advanced. The man who had partly recovered rose to a sitting position and regarded Musa and the Arab with a look of hatred so intense that it is quite certain he would have sprung at them if the heavy slave-stick had not rendered such an act impossible. Go, you little wealth! said Musa, pointing to the fallen chief, and at the same time giving the child a cut with a whip. With a cry of mingled pain and delight, poor Oboe, for it was he, rushed into his father's open arms and laid his sobbing head on his breast. He could not nestle into his neck as in the days of old he had been want to do. The rough gore effectually prevented that. Cambira bent his head over the child and remained perfectly still. He did not dare to move lest any action however inoffensive might induce Musa to change his mind and separate them again. Poor Cambira, how different from the hearty, bold, kindly chief to whom we introduced the reader in his own wilderness home. His colossal frame was now gaunt in the extreme, and so thin that every rib stood out as though it would burst from the skin, and every joint seemed hideously large while from head to foot his skin was crossed and recrossed with terrible wheels and scarred with open sores, telling of the horrible cruelties to which he had been subjected in the vain attempt to tame his untameable spirit. There can be no question that if he had been left to the tender mercies of such Portuguese half-caste scoundrels as Musa or Marizano, he would have been brained with an axe or whipped to death long ago. But Yusuf was more cool and calculating in his cruelty. He had more respect for his pocket than for the gratification of his angry feelings. Therefore, Cambira had reached the coast alive. Little had the simple chief imagined what awaited him on that coast and on his way to it when in the fullness of his heart he had stated to Harold Cedrip his determination to proceed thither in search of a zente. Experience had now crushed hope and taught him to despair. There was but one gleam of light in his otherwise black sky and that was the presence of his boy. Life had still one charm in it as long as he could lay hold of Oboe's little hand and hoist him, not quite so easily as of your on his broad shoulders. Yusuf was sufficiently a judge of human character to be aware that if he separated these two, Cambira would become more dangerous to approach than the fiercest monster in the African wilderness. We must sail tonight and take our chances, said Yusuf, turning away from his captives. The time allowed for our trade is past and I shall run straight north without delay. The Arab here referred to the fact that the period of the year allowed by treaty for the lawful slave trade of the Zanzibar dominions had come to an end. That period extended over several months and during its course passes from the sultan's secured domestic slavers against the British cruisers. After its exploration, no export of slaves was permitted anywhere. Nevertheless, a very large export was carried on despite non-permission and cruisers. Yusuf meant to run the blockade and take his chance. How many dows have you got? asked Yusuf. Three replied Musa. That will do, replied the Arab after a few minutes thought. It will be a tight fit at first, perhaps, but a few days at sea will rectify that. Even in the most healthy season and favorable conditions, we must unfortunately count on a good many losses. We shall sail tomorrow. The morrow came and three dows left the harbor of Kilwa, hoisted their Latine sails, and steered northwards. They were densely crowded with slaves. Even to the eye of a superficial observer, this would have been patent, for the upper deck of each was so closely packed with black men, women, and children that a square inch of it could not anywhere be seen. They were packed very systematically in order to secure economical stowage. Each human being sat on his haunches with his thighs against his breast and his knees touching his chin. They were all ranged thus in rows, shoulder to shoulder, and back to shin, so that the deck was covered with a salad pailings of human flesh. Change of posture was not provided for. It was not possible. There was no awning over the upper deck. The tropical sun poured its rays on the head of the slaves all day. The dews fell on them all night. The voyage might last for days or weeks, but there was no relief to the wretched multitude. For no purpose whatever could they move from their terrible position save for the one purpose of being thrown overboard when dead. But we have only spoken of the upper deck of these dows. Beneath this there was a temporary bamboo deck with just space sufficient to admit of men being seated in the position above referred to. This was also crowded, but it was not the black hole of the vessel. That was lower still. Seated on the stone ballast beneath the bamboo deck there was yet another layer of humanity whose condition can neither be described nor conceived. Without air, without light, without room to move, without hope, with insufferable stench, with hunger and thirst, with heat unbearable, with agony of body and soul, with dread anticipations of the future and despairing memories of the past, they sat for days and nights together, fed with just enough of uncooked rice and water to keep soul and body together. Not enough in all cases, however, for many succumbed, especially among the women and children. Down in the lowest, filthiest and darkest corner of this foul hole sat Canberra with little oboe crushed against his shins. It may be supposed that there was a touch of mercy in this arrangement. Let not the reader suppose so. Usup knew that if Canberra was to be got to market alive, oboe must go along with him. Musa also knew that if the strong minded sheep was to be subdued at all, it would only be by the most terrible means, hence his position in the dow. There was a man seated alongside of Canberra who for some time had appeared to be ill. He could not be seen, for the place was quite dark, save when a man came down with a lantern daily to serve out rice and water. But Canberra knew that he was very ill from his groans and the quiverings of his body. One night these groans ceased, and the man leaned heavily on the chief. Not very heavily, however, he was too closely wedged in all round to admit of that. Soon afterwards he became very cold, and Canberra knew that he was dead. All that night and the greater part of next day the dead man sat propped up by his living comrades. When the daily visitor came down, the tension was drawn to the body and it was removed. Musa, who was in charge of this dow, Yusuf having command of another, gave orders to have the slaves in the holes examined, and it was discovered that three others were dead and two dying. The dead were thrown overboard, the dying were left till they died, and then followed their released comrades. But now a worse evil befell that dow. Smallpox broke out among the slaves. It was a terrible emergency, but Musa was quite equal to it. Ordering the infected and suspected slaves to be brought on deck, he examined them. In this operation he was assisted and accompanied by two powerful armed men. There were passengers on board the dow, chiefly Arabs, and a crew as well as slaves. The passengers and crew together numbered about 34, all of whom were armed to the teeth. To these this inspection was of great importance, for it was their interest to get rid of the deadly disease as fast as possible. The first slave inspected, a youth of about 15, was in an advanced stage of the disease, in fact dying. A glance was sufficient and at a nod for Musa, the two powerful men seized him and hurled him into the sea. The poor creature was too far gone even to struggle for life. He sank like a stone. Several children followed. They were unquestionably smitten with the disease and were at once thrown overboard. Whether the passengers felt pity or no, we cannot say. They expressed none, but looked on in silence. So far the work was easy, but when men and women were brought up on whom the disease had not certainly taken effect, Musa was divided between the desire to check the progress of the evil and the desire to save valuable property. The property itself also caused some trouble in a few instances. For when it became obvious to one or two of the stronger slave girls and men what was going to be done with them, they made a hard struggle for their lives, and the two strong men were under the necessity of using a knife, now and then, to facilitate the accomplishment of their purpose. But such cases were rare. Most of the victims were callously submissive. It might not be beyond the truth in some cases to say willingly submissive. Each day this scene was enacted. For Musa was a very determined man and full forty human beings were thus murdered, but the disease was not stayed. The effort to check it was therefore given up, and the slaves were left to recover or die where they sat. Note, see a count of capture of Dao by Captain Robert B. K. of HMS Vulture in The Times of India, 1872. End of note. While this was going on in the vessel commanded by Musa, the other two Daos under Yusuf and a man named Suleiman had been lost sight of. But this was a matter of little moment, as they were all bound for the same Persian port and were pretty sure British cruisers permitting to meet there at last. Meanwhile the Dao ran short of water, and Musa did not like to venture at that time to make the land lest he should be caught by one of the hated cruisers or their boats. He preferred to let the wretched slaves take their chance of dying of thirst, hoping however to lose only a few of the weakness, as water could be procured a little farther north with greater security. Thus the horrible work of disease, death, and murder went on, until an event occurred which entirely changed the aspect of affairs on board the Dao. Early one morning, Musa directed the head of his vessel towards the land with the intention of procuring the much needed water. At the same hour and place two cutters belonging to HMS Firefly, armed with gun and rocket, twenty men, and an interpreter, crept out under sail with the fishing boats from a neighboring village. They were under the command of lieutenants Small and Lindsay respectively. For some days they had been there keeping vigilant watch, but had seen no Dao's, and that morning were proceeding out rather depressed by the influence of hope deferred, when a sail was observed in the offing, or rather a mast, for the sail of the Dao had been lowered. The owners intending to wait until a tide should enable them to cross the bar. Outdoors and give way lads was the immediate order, for it was necessary to get up all speed on the boats if the Dao was to be reached before she had time to hoist her hube sail. I hope the Hayes will last, earnestly muttered Lieutenant Small in the first cutter. O that they may keep on sleeping for five minutes more, excitedly whispered Lieutenant Lindsay in the second cutter. These hopes were coupled with orders to have the gun and rocket in readiness. But the Hayes would not last to oblige Mr. Small, neither would the Arabs keep on sleeping to please Mr. Lindsay. On the contrary, the Hayes dissipated, and the Arabs observed and recognized their enemies when within about a half a mile. With wonderful celerity they hoisted sail and stood out to see in the full swing of the monsoon. There was no little probability that the boats would fail to overhaul a vessel with so large a sail, therefore other means were instantly resorted to. Fire, said Mr. Small. Fire, cried Mr. Lindsay. Bang went the gun, whiz went the rocket, almost at the same moment. A rapid rifle fire was also opened on the slaver. Shot, rocket, and ball be spattered sea and scattered foam in the air, but did no harm to the Dao, a heavy sea and a strong wind preventing accuracy of aim. Give it them as fast as you can was now the order, and well was the order obeyed. For blue jackets are notoriously smart men in action, and the gun, the rocket, and the rifles kept up a smart iron storm for upwards of two hours, during which time the exciting chase lasted. At last Jackson, the linguist who was in the stern of Lindsay's boat, mortally wounded the steersman of the Dao with a rifle ball at a distance of about six hundred yards. Not long afterwards the rocket cutter, being less heavily weighted than her consort, crept ahead and when within about a hundred and fifty yards of the slaver let fly a well-directed rocket. It carried away the peril which secured the yard of the Dao to the mast and brought the sail down instantly on the deck. Harab burst irresistibly from the blue jackets. The Arabs were doubly overwhelmed, for besides getting the sail down on their heads, they were astonished and stunned by the shriek, smoke, and flame of the war rocket. The gun-cutter coming up at the moment, the two boats ranged alongside of the slaver and boarded together. As we have said, the crew and passengers, numbering thirty-four, were armed to the teeth, and they had stood by the halyards during the chase with drawn creases, swearing to kill anyone who should attempt to shorten sail. These now appeared for a moment as though they meditated resistance, but the irresistible dash of the sailors seemed to change their mind, for they submit it without striking a blow, though many of them were very reluctant to give up their swords and knives. Fortunately the firefly arrived in search of her boats that evening, and the slaves were transferred to her deck. But who shall describe the harrowing scene? The Dao seemed a very nest of black ants, it was so crowded, and the sailors who had to perform the duty of removing the slaves were nearly suffocated by the horrible stench. Few of the slaves could straighten themselves after their long confinement, indeed some of them were unable to stand for days afterwards, and many died on board the firefly before they reached the harbor of refuge and freedom. Those taken from the hold were in the worst condition, especially the children, many of whom were in the most loathsome stages of smallpox and scrawfula of every description. They were so emaciated and weak that many had to be carried on board and lifted for every movement. Canvira, although able to stand, was doubled up like an old man, and poor little oboe trembled and staggered when he attempted to follow his father, to whom he still clung as to his last and only refuge. To convey these poor wretches to a place where they could be cared for was now Captain Romer's chief anxiety. First, however, he landed the crew and passengers with the exception of Musa and three of his men. The filthy dow was then scuttled and sunk, after which the firefly steamed away for Aiden, that being the nearest port where the rescued slaves could be landed and set free. Chapter 23 The Remedy Reader, we will turn aside at this point to preach you a lay sermon, if you will lend an attendevere. It shall be brief and straight to the point. Our text is Prevention and Cure. There are at least three great channels by which the lifeblood of Africa is drained. One trends to the east through the Zanzibar Dominions, another to the southeast through the Portuguese dependencies, and a third to the north through Egypt. If the slave trade is to be effectually checked, the flow through these three channels must be stopped. It is vain to rest content with the stoppage of one leak in our ship, if two other leaks are left open. Happily in regard to the first of these channels, Sir Bartle Paray has been successful in making a grand stride in the way of prevention. If the Sultan of Zanzibar holds to his treaty engagements, domestic slavery in his dominions is at an end. Nevertheless, our fleet will be required just as much as ever to prevent the unauthorized piratical slave trade, and this, after all, is but one-third of the preventive work we have to do. Domestic slavery remains untouched in the Portuguese dependencies, and Portugal has decreed that it shall remain untouched until a year 1878. It is well that we should be thoroughly impressed with the fact that so long as slavery, in any form, is tolerated, the internal, we may say, infernal miseries and horrors which we have attempted to depict will continue to blight the land and brutalize its people. Besides this justice demands that the same constraint which we lay on the Sultan of Zanzibar should be applied to the King of Portugal, we ought to insist that his domestic slavery shall cease at once. Still, further, as Sir Bartelfaray himself has recommended, we should urge upon our government the appointment of efficient consular establishments in the Portuguese dependencies, as well as vigilance in securing the observance of the treaties signed by the Sultans of Zanzibar and Muscat. A recent telegram from Sir Samuel Baker assures us that a great step has been made in the way of checking the tide of slavery in the Third, the Egyptian Channel, and Sir Bartelfaray bears testimony to the desire of the Kediv that slavery should be put down in his dominions. For this we have reason to be thankful, and the appearance of affairs in that quarter is hopeful. But our hope is mingled with anxiety, because mankind is terribly prone to go to sleep on hopeful appearances. Our nature is such that our only chance of success lies under God in resolving ceaselessly to energize until our ends be accomplished. We must see to it that the Kediv of Egypt acts in accordance with his professions, and for this end efficient counselor agency is as needful in the northeast as in the southeast. So much for prevention, but prevention is not cure. In order to accomplish this two things are necessary. There must be points or centers of refuge for the oppressed on the mainland of Africa, and there must be the introduction of the Bible. The first is essential to the second. Where anarchy, murder, injustice, and tyranny are rampant and triumphant, the advance of the missionary is either terribly slow or altogether impossible. The life-giving, soul-softening word of God is the only remedy for the woes of mankind, and therefore the only cure for Africa. To introduce it effectually and along with its civilization and all the blessings that flow therefrom, it is indispensable that great Britain should obtain, by treaty or by purchase, one or more small pieces of land there to establish free Christian Negro settlements, and there with force sufficient to defend them from the savages and worse than savages, the Arab and Portuguese half-caste barbarians and lawless men who infest the land, hold out the hand of friendship to all natives who choose to claim her protection from the man-stealer and offer to teach them the blessed truths of Christianity and the arts of civilization. Many of the men who are best fitted to give an opinion on the point agree in holding that some such center or centers on the mainland are essential to the permanent cure of slavery, although they differ a little as to the best localities for them. Take for instance Dar es Salaam on the coast, the Manganja Highlands near the river Shire, and Khartoum on the Nile. Three such centers would, if established, begin at once to dry up the slave trade at its three fountain heads while our cruisers would check it on the coast. In these centers of light and freedom the Negroes might see exemplified the blessings of Christianity and civilization, and thence trained native missionaries might radiate into all parts of the vast continent, armed only with the word of God, the shield of faith, and the sword of the Spirit in order to preach the glad tidings of salvation through Jesus Christ, our Lord. In brief the great points on which we ought as a nation to insist are the immediate abolition of the slave trade in Portuguese dependencies, the scrupulous fulfillment of treaty obligations by the sultans of Zanzibar and Muscat, the Shah of Persia, and the Kediv of Egypt, the establishment by our government of efficient counselor agencies where such are required, the acquisition of territory on the mainland for the purposes already mentioned, and the united action of all Christians in our land to raise funds and send men to preach the gospel to the Negro. So doing we shall, with God's blessing, put an end to the Eastern slave trade, save equatorial Africa, and materially increase the commerce, the riches, and the happiness of the world. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 24 Tells of Sad Sights and Sudden Events and Unexpected Meetings In the course of time our hero Harold C. Drift and his faithful ally Disco Lulahammer, after innumerable adventures which we are unwillingly obliged to pass over in silence, returned to the coast and, in the course of their wanderings in search of a vessel which should convey them to Zanzibar, found themselves at last in the town of Governor Lutoti. Being English travelers, they were received as guests by the governor, and Harold was introduced to Signorina Margarita. Passing through the marketplace one day, they observed a crowd round the flagstaff in the center of the square, and following the irresistible tendency of human nature in such circumstances, ran to see what was going on. They found that a slave was about to be publicly whipped by soldiers. The unhappy man was suspended by the wrists from the flagstaff, and a single cord of coyer round his waist afforded him additional support. Come away, we can do no good here, said Harold in a low, sourful tone which was drowned in the shriek of the victim as the first lash fell on his naked shoulders. Perhaps he's a criminal, suggested Disco, as he hurried away, endeavoring to comfort himself with the thought that the man probably deserved punishment. It's not the weapon I think so much of, he has. That is, the only thing as will do for some characters, but it's the awful cruelties that goes along with it. Returning through the same square about an hour later, having almost forgotten about the slave by that time, they were horrified to observe that the wretched man was still hanging there. Hastening towards him, they found that he was gasping for breath. His veins were bursting, and his flesh was deeply lacerated by the cords with which he was suspended. He turned his head as the Englishmen approached and spoke a few words which they did not understand, but the appealing look of his bloodshot eyes spoke a language that required no interpreter. At an earlier period in their career in Africa, both Harold and Disco would have acted on their first impulse and cut the man down, but experience had taught them that this style of interference while it put their own lives in jeopardy had sometimes the effect of increasing the punishment and suffering of those whom they sought to be friend. Acting on a wiser plan, they resolved to appeal to Governor Litoti in his behalf. They therefore ran to his residence where Margarita, who conversed with Harold and French, informed them that her father was in the Garissa or public Palaver house. To that building they hastened and found that it was in the very square they had left. But Senior Litoti was not there. He had observed the Englishmen coming and having a shrewd guess what their errand was, had disappeared and hid himself. His chief officer informed them that he had left the town early in the morning and would not return till the afternoon. Harold felt quite sure that this was a falsehood, but of course was obliged to accept it as truth. Is there no one to act for the governor in his absence, he asked anxiously. No, there was no one. But after a few minutes the chief officer appeared to be overcome by Harold's earnest entreaties and said that he could take upon himself to act, that he would suspend the punishment till the governor's return when Harold might prefer his petition to him in person. Accordingly the slave was taken down. In the afternoon Harold saw the governor and explained that he did not wish to interfere with his province as a magistrate, but that what he had witnessed was so shocking that he availed himself of his privilege as a guest to pray that the man's punishment might be mitigated. Governor Litoti's health had failed him of late, and he had suffered some severe disappointments in money matters, so that his wanted amiability had been considerably reduced. He objected at first to interfere with the course of justice, but finally gave a reluctant consent and the man was pardoned. Afterwards, however, when our travelers were absent from the town for a day, the wretched slave was again tied up and the full amount of his punishment inflicted. In other words, he was flogged to death. For the incident on which this is found we are indebted to the Reverend Dr. Ryan, late Bishop of the Mauritius. This incident had such effect on the mind of Harold that he resolved no longer to accept the hospitality of Governor Litoti. He had some difficulty, however, in persuading himself to carry his resolve into effect, for the governor, although harsh in his dealing with the slave, had been exceedingly kind and amiable to himself. But an unexpected event occurred which put an end to his difficulties. This was the illness and sudden death of his host. Poor disconsolate Margarita in the first passion of her grief fled to the residence of the only female friend she had in the town and refused firmly to return home. Thus it came to pass that Harold's intercourse with the signorita was cut short at its commencement, and thus he missed the last opportunity of learning something of the fortunes of Azinte. For it is certain that, if they had conversed much together, as would probably have been the case had her father lived, some mention of the slave girl's name could not fail to have been made, and their mutual knowledge of her to have been elicited and interchanged. In those days there was no regular communication between one point and another of the east coast of Africa and the neighboring islands. Travellers had frequently to wait long for a chance, and when they got one were often glad to take advantage of it without being fastidious as to its character. Soon after the events above narrated, a small trading schooner touched at the port. It was bound for the Seychelles, intending to return by Zanzibar and Madagascar and proceed to the Cape. Harold would rather have gone direct to Zanzibar, but having plenty of time on his hands as well as means, he was content to avail himself of the opportunity and took passage in the schooner for himself, disco, and jumbo. That sable and faithful friend was the only one of his companions who was willing to follow him anywhere on the face of the earth. The others received their pay and their discharge with smiling faces and scattered to their several homes. Antonio, departing to complete, is interrupted honeymoon. Just before leaving, Harold sought and obtained permission to visit Margarita to bid her goodbye. The poor child was terribly overwhelmed by the death of her father and could not speak of him without giving way to passionate grief. She told Harold that she meant to leave the coast by the first opportunity that should offer and proceed to the Cape of Good Hope, where in some part of the interior lived an old aunt, the only relative she now had on earth who she knew would be glad to receive her. Our hero did his best to comfort the poor girl and express deep sympathy with her, but felt that his power to console her was very small indeed. After a brief interview, he bade her farewell. The voyage which our travelers now commenced was likely to be of considerable duration, for the Seychelles Islands lie a long way to the eastward of Africa, but as we have said, time was of no importance to Harold, and he was not sorry to have an opportunity visiting a group of islands which are of some celebrity in connection with the East African slave trade. Thus all unknown to himself or disco, as well as to Margarita, who would have been intensely interested had she known the fact, he was led towards the new abode of our sable heroine, Azinte. But alas, for Cambira and Oboe, they were being conveyed also, of course, unknown to themselves or to anyone else, further and further away from one whom they would have given their hearts blood to meet with and embrace, and it seemed as if there was not a chance of any gleam of light bridging over the ever-widening gulf that lay between them, for although Lieutenant Lindsay knew that Azinte had been left at the Seychelles, he had not the remotest idea that Cambira was Azinte's husband, and among several hundreds of freed slaves the second Lieutenant of the Firefly was not likely to single out and whole converse with the chief whose language he did not understand, and who, as far as appearances went, was almost as miserable, sickly, and degraded as were the rest of the unhappy beings by whom he was surrounded. Providence, however, turned the tide of affairs in favor of Cambira and his son. On reaching Zanzibar, Captain Romer had learned from the commander of another cruiser that Aden was at that time somewhat overwhelmed with freed slaves, a considerable number of captives having been recently made about the neighborhood of that great rendezvous of slavers, the island of Secotra. The captain therefore changed his mind and once more very unwillingly directed his course towards the distance Seychelles. On the way thither many of the poor Negroes died, but many began to recover strength under the influence of kind treatment and generous diet. Among these latter was Cambira. His erect gate and manly look soon began to return, and his ribs, so to speak, to disappear. It was otherwise with poor oboe. The severity of the treatment to which he had been exposed was almost too much for so young a frame. He lost appetite and slowly declined, notwithstanding the doctor's utmost care. This state of things continuing until the firefly arrived at the Seychelles, oboe was at once conveyed to the hospital which we have referred to as having been established there. A zente chance to be absent in the neighboring town on some errand connected with their duties as nurse, when her boy was laid down on his bed beside a number of similar sufferers. It was a sad sight to behold these little ones. Out of the original eighty-three children who had been placed there, forty-seven had died in three weeks, and the remnant were still in a pitiable condition. While on their beds of pain, tossing about in their delirium, the minds of these little ones frequently ran back to their forest homes, and while some in spirit laughed and romped once more around their huts, thousands of miles away on the banks of some African river, others called aloud in their sufferings for the dearest of all earthly beings to them, their mothers. Some of them also whispered the name of Jesus, for the missionary had been careful to tell them the story of our loving Lord, while tending their poor bodies. Oboe had fevered slightly, and in the restless half slumber into which he fell on being put to bed, he too called earnestly for his mother. In his case, poor child, the call was not in vain. Lieutenant Lindsay and the doctor of the ship with Canberra had accompanied Oboe to the hospital. Now Lindsay said the doctor, when the child had been made as comfortable as circumstances would admit of, this man must not be left here, for he will be useless, and it is of the utmost consequence that the child should have some days of absolute repose. What shall we do with him? Take him on board again, said Lindsay. I dare say we shall find him employment for a short time. If you will allow me to take charge of him, interposed the missionary, who was standing by them at the time, I can easily find him employment in the neighborhood, so that he can come occasionally to see his child when we think it's safe to allow him. That will be the better plan, said the doctor, for as long as a short sharp cry near the door of the room cut the sentence short, all eyes were turned in that direction, and they beheld a zinte gazing wildly at them, and standing as if transformed to stone. The instant Canberra saw his wife, he leaped up as if he had received an electric shock, bound it forward like a panther, uttered a shout that did full credit to the chief of a war-like African tribe, and seized the zinte in his arms. No wonder that thirty-six little black heads leaped from thirty-six little white pillows and displayed all the whites of seventy-two eyes that were anything but little when this astonishing scene took place. But Canberra quickly recovered himself and grasping a zinte by the arm led her gently towards the bed which had just been occupied, and pointed to the little one that slumbered uneasily there. Strangely enough, just at the moment little Oboe again whispered the word, mother. Poor a zinte's eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. She stretched out her arms and tried to rush towards her child, but Canberra held her back. Oboe is very sick, he said. You must touch him tenderly. The chief looked into his wife's eyes, saw that she understood him, and let her go. A zinte crept softly to the bed, knelt down beside it, and put her arms so softly round Oboe that she scarcely moved him. Yet she gradually drew him towards her until his head rested on her swelling bosom, and she pressed her lips tenderly upon his brow. It was an old familiar attitude which seemed to pierce the slumbers of the child with a pleasant reminiscence and dissipate his melody, for he heaved a deep sigh of contentment, and sank into profound repose. Good said the doctor in low tone, with a significant nod to Lindsay, when an interpreter had explained what had been already guessed by all present, that Canberra and a zinte were man and wife. Oboe has a better chance now of recovery than I had anticipated, for joy goes a long way towards affecting a cure. Come, we will lead them together. Canberra was naturally anxious to remain, but like all commanding spirits, he had long ago learned that cardinal virtue, obedience to whom obedience is due. When it was explained to him that it would be for Oboe's advantage to be left alone with his mother for a time, he arose, bowed his head, and meekly followed his friends out of the room. Exactly one week from that date little Oboe had recovered so much of his former health that he was permitted to go out into the air, and a few days later Lieutenant Lindsay resolved to take him and his father and mother on board the firefly by way of a little ploy. In pursuance of this plan he set off from the hospital in company with Canberra, followed at a short distance by a zinte and Oboe. Poor Lindsay, his heart was heavy while he did his best to convey in dumb show his congratulations to Canberra, for he saw in this unexpected reunion an insurmountable difficulty in the way of taking a zinte back to her former mistress, not that he had ever seen the remotest chance at his being able to achieve that desirable end before this difficulty arose. But love is at times insanely hopeful, just as at other times, and with equally little reason it is madly despairing. He had just made some complicated signs with hands, mouth, and eyebrows, and had succeeded in rendering himself altogether incomprehensible to his sable companion when, on rounding a turn of the path that led to the harbor, he found himself suddenly face to face with Harold C. Drift, Disko Lillehammer, and their follower Jumbo, all of whom had landed from a schooner which, about an hour before, had cast anchor in the bay. Mr. Lindsay, Mr. C. Drift, exclaimed each to the other simultaneously, for the reader will remember that they had met once before when our heroes were rescued from Yusuf by the firefly. Canberra shouted Disko. A zinte, cried Harold, as our sable heroine came into view. Oboe roared the stricken mariner. Jumbo could only vent his feelings in an appalling yell and an impromptu war dance round the party in which he was joined by Disko, who performed a horn pipe with Oboe in his arms to the intense delight of that convalescent youngster. Thus laughing, questioning, shouting, and dancing, they all effervesced towards the shore like a band of lunatics just escaped from bedlam.