 chapter 14 of Black Ivory by R. M. Valentine. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 14. Camping, traveling, shooting, dreaming, poetizing, philosophizing, and surprising in equatorial Africa. At sunset the travelers halted in a peculiarly wild spot and encamped under the shelter of a gigantic Baobab tree. Two rousing fires were quickly kindled round which the natives visit themselves in preparing supper while their leaders sat down, the one to write up his journal, the other to smoke his pipe. Well, sir, said Disco, after a few puffs delivered with extreme satisfaction, you do seem poor to enjoy Reagan. You go at that log of yours every night as if it was your last will and testament that you couldn't die happy without excuting and signing it with your blood. A better occupation, isn't it, replied Harold with a sly glance, than to make a chimney pot of my mouth? Come, sir, return Disco with a deprecatory smile. Don't be too hard on a poor fellow's pipe. If you can't enjoy it, that's no argument against it. How do you know I can't enjoy it? Why, because I suppose you take to it if you did. Did you enjoy it when you first began? asked Harold. Well, I can't exactly say as I did. Well, then, if you didn't, that proves it is not natural to smoke, and why should I acquire an unnatural and useless habit? Useless, why, sir, only think of what you lose by not smoking. What a deal of enjoyment! Well, I am thinking, replied Harold, affecting a look of profound thoughtfulness. But I can't quite make it out. Enjoyment? Let me see. Do I not enjoy as good health as you do? Oh, certainly, sir, certainly. You're quite up to the mark in that respect. Well, then, I enjoy my food as well, and can eat as much, can't I? No doubt of it, replied Disco with a grin. I was used to be considered, rather, a dab at whittles, but I must say I knocks under to you, sir. Very good, rejoined Harold laughing. Then as to sleep. I enjoy sleep quite as soundly as yourself, don't I? I can't say as to that, replied Disco. You see, sir, as I never opens my eyes at or shutting them till the boats and pipes all hands ahoy, I have no means in knowing what you accomplish in that way. On the whole then it seems that I enjoy everything as much as you do, and, no, not everything, you don't enjoy backy, you know? But please, sir, don't go for it to moralize. I can't stand it, you'll spoil my pipe if you do. Well, I shall spare you, said Harold, all the more that I perceive suffer is about. At that moment Antonio, who had gone down to a streamlet which trickled close at hand, gave utterance to a hideous yell, and came rushing into camp with a face that was pea-green for terror. Ah, he gassed a lion, quick, your guns! Everyone leaped up and seized his weapon with marvelous alacrity on receiving an alarm so violent and unlookful. Where away, inquired Disco, blazing with excitement, and ready at a moment's notice to rush into the jungle and fire both barrels at whatever should present itself. No, no, don't go, cried Antonio, in alarm, be cautionous. The interpreter's caution was enforced by Chimbullo, who laid his hand on Disco's arm and looked at him with such solemnity that he felt it necessary to restrain his ardor. Meanwhile, Antonio with trembling steps led Harold to a point in the thicket whence he beheld two bright, phosphoric-looking objects which his companion said were the lion's eyes, adding that lion's eyes always shone in that way. Harold threw forward his rifle with the intention of taking aim, but lowered it quickly, for he felt convinced that no lion could possibly have eyes so wide apart, unless its head were as large as that of an elephant. Nonsense, Antonio, he said, laughing. That cannot be a lion. Oh, yes, him's a lion for sure, and Antonio returned positively. We shall see. Harold raised his rifle and fired, while Antonio turned and fled, fully expecting the wounded beast to spring. Harold himself half looked for some such act and shrank behind a bush by way of precaution, but when the smoke cleared away, he saw that the two glowing eyes were gazing at him as fixately as ever. Poo! exclaimed Disco, brushing past. I know what it is. Many a time I'd seen him in the West Ingees, saying which he went straight up to the supposed lion, picked up a couple of glowworms, and brought them to the campfires much to the amusement of the men, especially of Jumbo, and greatly to the confusion of the valorous interpreter who, according to his invariable custom when danger threatened, was found to have sought refuge in a tree. This incident furnished ground for much discussion and merriment during supper. In which Antonio, being in no wise ashamed of himself, joined noisily, and Chimbolo took occasion to reprove Disco for his rashness, telling him that it was impossible to kill lions in the jungle during the darkness of night, and that if they did pay them a visit, it would be wise to let them be, and trust to the campfires keeping them at a respectful distance. To which Disco retorted that he didn't believe there was any lions in Aprici, for he'd heard a good deal about them, and traveled far, but had not yet heard the sound of their voices, and what was more didn't expect to. Before that night was far advanced, Disco was constrained to acknowledge himself in error. For a veritable lion did actually prowl down to the camp, and salute them with a roar which had a wonderfully awe-inspiring effect on every member of the party, especially on those who heard it for the first time in their lives. Just before the arrival of this nocturnal visitor, one of the men had been engaged in some poetic effusions, which claim preliminary notice here, because they were rudely terminated by the lion. This man was one of Campira's people, and had joined the party by permission. He was one of those beings who gifted with something like genius, or with superior powers of some sort, have sprung up in Africa as elsewhere, no doubt from time immemorial, to dazzle their fellows for a little, and then pass away, leaving a trail of tradition behind them. The existence there in time-past of men in mind far in advance of their fellows, as well as of heroes whose physical powers were marvelous, may be assumed from the fact that some such exist at the present time, as well as from tradition. Some of these heroes have excited the admiration of large districts by their wisdom, others by their courage or their superior dexterity with a spear and bow, like William Tell and Robin Hood. But the memory of these must soon have been obliterated for want of literature. The man who had joined Harold was a poet and a musician. He was an improvisatore, composed verses on the incidents that occurred as they traveled along, and sang them with an accompaniment on an instrument called the Sansa, which had nine iron keys and a calabash for a sounding board. The poet's name was Mokomba. With the free and easy disposition of his race, he allowed his fancy to play around the facts of which he sang, and was never at a loss for, if the right word did not come readily, he spun out the measure with musical sounds, which meant nothing at all. Whether supper was over, or rather when the first interval of repose occurred, Mokomba, who was an obliging and hearty little fellow, was called on for a song. Nothing loathe he seized the Sansa and began a ditty, of which the following given by Antonio may be regarded as a remarkably free, not to say easy, translation, Mokomba's song. Mokombira goes to hunt Yoho. Him spear am never blunt, Yoho. Him killed the buffalo quick, and loved the porridge thick. Him chased the lion too, and stuck them true and true. The potomists as well, and more than me can tell, had down before them fell, Yoho. The English come to see Yoho. That very good for we, Yoho. No take us away for slaves, nor put us in our graves, but set the black man's free when kacham on the sea. Damn splendid shooters too. We knows what they can do. With boil and roast and stew, Yoho. One makes him's gun go crack, Yoho. An elephant onan's back, Yoho. The draper lion roar. The gun goes crack once more. The bullet fly and splits, one monkey into bits. Yoho. The glow worm next arise. The Englishmen likewise, with very much surprise, and hit him tween the eyes. Hooray, hooray, um-cries, and run to kacham's prize. Yoho. The last Yoho was given with tremendous energy and followed by peals of laughter. It was at this point that the veritable lion thought proper to join in, which he did, as we have said, with a roar so tremendous that it not only put a sudden stop to the music, but filled the party with so much alarm that they sprang to their arms with surprising agility. Mindful of Shimbolo's previous warning, neither Harald nor Disco sought to advance, but both looked at their savage friend for advice. Now in some parts of Africa there exists a popular belief that the souls of departed chiefs enter into lions and render them sacred, and several members of Harald's sea-dress party entertained this notion. Shimbolo was one of these. From the sounds of growling and rending which issued from the thicket, he knew that the lion in question was devouring part of their buffalo meat which had been hung on the branch of a neighboring tree, not, however, near enough to the fires to be visible. Believing that the beast was a chief in disguise, Shimbolo advanced a little towards the place where he was, and much to our traveler's amusement gave him a good scolding. You call yourself a chief, do you, eh? He said sternly, what kind of a chief can you be to come sneaking about in the dark like this, trying to steal our buffalo meat? Are you not ashamed of yourself? A pretty chief, truly, you are like the scavenger beetle. And think of yourself only. You have not the heart of a chief. Why don't you kill your own beef? You must have a stone in your chest and no heart at all. That's wary flower-row-lingo, but it don't seem to convince him, said Disco, with a quiet smile, as the lion which had been growling continuously over its meal all the time wound up Shimbolo's speech with another terrific roar. At this point another believer in transmigration of souls, a quiet man who seldom volunteered remarks on any subject, stepped forward and began seriously to expostulate with the lion. It is very wrong of you, he said, to treat strangers in this fashion. You might have more respect for Englishmen who have come to see your land, and never did you any harm. We are traveling peaceably through the country. We never kill anybody and never steal anything. The buffalo meat is ours, not yours, and it ill becomes a great chief like you to be prowling about in the dark like a hyena trying to steal the meat of strangers. Surely you can hunt for yourself. There is plenty of meat in the forest. Note. See Livingston's Zambezi and its tributaries, page 160. End of note. As the lion was equally deaf to this man's reasoning, Harold thought it right to try a more persuasive plan. He drew up in a line all the men who had guns, and at a word of command they fired a volley of walls into the jungle in the direction whence the sounds issued. A dead silence followed, but it was deemed advisable not to venture in to see the effect, as men had frequently lost their lives by so doing. A watch, however, was kept during the night, and the fires were well replenished, for they knew that the king of the forest usually shrinks from doing his evil deeds in the light of a strong campfire. We say usually, because they are not always thus shy. Authentic instances are on record of lions having leaped into the center of a bivouac and carried off one of the men in spite of being smitten in the face with flaming firebrands. Fortunately, the lion of which we write thought, discretion, the better part of valor. He retired peaceably, nevertheless disco and his friend continued to dream of him all night so vividly that they started up several times and seized their rifles under the impression that he had roared his loudest into their very ears, and after each of these occasions they crept back into their sleeping bags to re-dream of the lion. The bag which formed each man's couch was made up simply of two mats sewed together and left open not at one of the ends, but at one of the sides, so that a man could roll out of or into it more easily than he could have slid feet first into a sack. It was large enough also for two to sleep inside together, always supposing that the two were of accommodating dispositions. That they had now reached a land which swarmed with wild animals was intimated to some extent by the running past within fifty yards of their vivo-wack of a troop of elephants. It was daybreak at the time so that having been thus rudely aroused they did not deem it necessary to return to rest, but after taking a hasty mouthful of food set forth on their journey. The usual mode of proceeding on the march was as follows. They rose up about five o'clock or soon after the appearance of dawn and swallowed a cup of tea with a bit of biscuit, then some of the men folded up the blankets and stowed them away in the bags, others tied up the cooking utensils, etc., in bundles and hung them at the ends of carrying sticks which they bore upon their shoulders. The process did not take long. They were soon on the march either in single file, if the path were narrow, or in groups according to fancy were the ground admitted of their spreading out. About nine a convenient spot was chosen for a halt to breakfast, which meat, although not eaten the night before in order to save time in the morning, was at all events cooked on the previous evening for the same end, so that it only needed warming up. Then the march was resumed. A short rest was allowed in the heat of the day when, of course, Disco had a pipe and much sagacious intercourse with his fellows, and they finally encamped for the remainder of the day and night early in the afternoon. Thus they traveled five or six hours at a stretch, an average from twelve to fifteen miles a day, which is about as much as Europeans can stand in hot climate without being oppressed. This Disco called taking it easy, and so it was when compared with the custom of some travelers, whose chief end would appear to be the getting over as much ground as possible in a given time, in order that they may afterwards boast of the same, and for the accomplishment of which they are obliged to abuse and look ferocious at the blacks, cock their pistols, and flourish their whips in a manner which is only worthy of being styled contemptible and cowardly. We need not say that our friends Harold and Disco had no such propensities. They had kindly consideration for the feelings of their niggers, coupled with great firmness, became very sociable with them, and thus got hardy willing work out of them. But to return from this digression, during the day the number of animals of all sorts that were seen was so great as to induce Disco to protest with a slap of his thigh that the whole land from stem to stern seemed to him to be one prodigious zoological garden. It did, and no mistake about it. Disco was not far wrong. He and Harold, having started the head of the party, with Chimbolo as their guide, came on a wonderful variety of creatures in rapid succession. First they fell in with some large flocks of guinea fowl, and shot a few for dinner. As they advanced, various birds ran across their path, and clouds of turtledogs filled the air with a bladder of their wings as they rose above the trees. Ducks, geese, and frankilins helped to swell the chorus of sounds. When the sun rose and sent a flood of light over a wide and richly wooded bale into which they were about to descend, a herd of palas stood gazing at the travelers in stupid surprise, and allowed them to approach within sixty yards before trotting leisurely away. These and all other animals were passed unmolested, as the party had sufficient meat at that time, and Harold made a point not to permit his followers to shoot animals for the mere sake of sport, though several of them were uncommonly anxious to do so. Soon afterwards a herd of water-bucks were passed, and then a herd of codos, with two or three magnificently horned bucks amongst them, which hurried off to the hillsides on seeing the travelers. Antelopes also were seen and buffaloes grazing beside their path. Air-long they came upon a small pond with a couple of elephants standing on its brink, cooling their huge sides by drawing water into their trunks and throwing it all over themselves. Behind these were several herds of zebras and water-bucks, all of which took the plight on getting the wind of man. They seemed intuitively to know that he was an enemy. Wild pigs also were common, and troops of monkeys large and small, barked, shattered, grinned, and made faces among the trees. After pitching the camp each afternoon and having had a mouthful of biscuit, the two Englishmen were in the habit of going off to hunt for the daily supply of fresh meat accompanied by chimbolo as their guide and game-carrier, Antonio as their interpreter, and Mocompa as their poet and jester. They did not indeed appoint Mocompa to that post of honor, but the little were they took it upon himself for the express purpose of noting the deeds of the white men in order to throw his black comrades into convulsions over supper by a poetic recital of the same. It pleases them, and it don't hurt us, was Disco's observation on this head. On the afternoon, then, of which we write, the party of four went out to hunt, while the encampment was being prepared by the superintendents of Jumbo, who had already proved himself to be an able manager and cook, as also had his countrymen, Massico and Zombo. What a rich country, exclaimed Harold, looking around in admiration from the top of a small hillock on as fine a scene as one could wish to behold, and what a splendid cotton country it might be if properly cultivated. So it is, said Disco, and I shouldn't wonder if there was lots of gold, too, if we only knew where to look for it. Gold, exclaimed Antonio, who sat winking placently on the stump of a fallen tree. There be lots of gold near Zambezi, and other ting, too. Let's hear what are some of the other things, said Disco. What are there? Oh, let me see. There be coal, lots of coal on Zambezi, any amount of it, and it burned first rate, too. There be iron ore, very much, and indigo, and sugarcane, and ivory. You have to hear and see yourself about the elephants and the cotton and tobacco. Note, see Livingston's Zambezi and its tributaries, page 52. End of note. Oh, great plenty of everything everywhere in this year country, but, said Antonio, with a shrug of his shoulders, no can make nothing out of it on account of the slave trade. Then I suppose he don't approve of the slave trade, said Disco. No, that am true, replied Antonio. He country very good for slave trader, but no good for man like me what want to trade proper. Hmm, I have more respect for he than I had, said Disco. I suppose you've been up in these parts before now, have you? No, never, but I have sister what marry one nigger, one slave, what sold himself, and him tell me much about it. Him's been up here many times. Sold himself? repeated Harold in surprise. What do you mean? Mean that, returned Antonio. One was a black, free man, called him Chibanti. Him was all alone in the world, loose plotter, mother, brother, sister, wife, everything by slave trader, who steal them all the way or murder them. So Chibanti, say, what do you used to be free? So him go to one master who very good to him's niggers, give him plenty to eat, and little to do, and sold himself to him. And what did he get for himself, asked Disco. Got ninety yard of cotton colob. Did he consider himself cheap or dear at that? inquired Disco. Oh dear, awful dear. What has come of him now? asked Harold. Don't know, answered Antonio. After him got the cloth, his master send him to Quilomane with cargo of ivory, and give him leave to do little trade on him's own account. So him bought a man, a woman, and a boy, for sixty yard of cotton, and with the rest hired slaves for the voyage down, and drove a most wonderful trade. For long time since me hear of him, perhaps him's good master be dead, and him go with the rest of the goods, and chattels to a bad master, who very soon make him sorry, him sold himself. Pushing forward for several days in the manner of which we have attempted to describe, our travelers pass through many varied scenes which, however, all bore one mark in common, namely, teeming animal and vegetable life. Common beings were also found to be exceedingly numerous, but not so universally distributed as the others, for although many villages and hamlets were past, the inhabitants of which were all peacefully inclined and busy in their fields, or with their native cotton, iron, and pottery manufacturers, vast expanses of rich ground were also traversed, which, as far as man was concerned, appeared to be absolute solitudes. Depending upon one of these about noon of a remarkably fine day, Harold could not help remarking on the strange stillness which pervaded the air. No sound was heard from beast, bird, or insect. No village was near. No rippling stream murmured, or zephyr stirred the leaves. In short, it was a scene which, from its solitude and profound silence, became oppressive. Wa'sir, said Disco, whose face was bathed in perspiration, it do seem to me as if we got to the fag end of the world altogether. There ain't nothing nowhere. Harold laughed, and said it looked like it, but Disco was wrong. It was only the hour when animals seemed to find a siesta indispensable, and vegetables as well as air had followed their example. A few minutes suffice to prove their mistake, for on entering a piece of woodland a herd of pallas and another of water-bucks appeared, standing as quiet and still as if they were part of a painted landscape. Then in passing a thick clump of thorns they could see through openings in the bushes, the dim, phantom-like forms of buffaloes, with heads lowered and eyes glaring at them, ready to charge if need be, though too lazy from heat apparently to begin the fray and willing to act on the principle of let be for let be. Still farther on, a native was observed keeping at a respectful distance. He had seen the travelers from afar and come with noiseless tread to get a nearer view. Halting to rest the party for a few minutes in a shady hollow, Harold threw himself at full length on the grass, but Disco, who, strange to say, did not feel inclined to smoke at the moment, probably because he had only just finished his fifth pipe a few minutes previously, sauntered on alone to the top of the next ridge. He had barely reached the summit when Harold, who chanced to be looking after him, observed that he crouched suddenly behind a bush and, after gazing steadfastly for a few seconds over the hill, turned and ran back, making excessively wild demonstrations with head in arms, but uttering no sound. Of course, the whole party sprang up and ran towards the excited mariner, and soon were nearing up to understand that his violent actions were meant to caution them to make no noise. Hush, he said eagerly, uncoming nearing up to be heard. Keep quiet as mice. There's a slave gang, or something uncommon like it, going along on white authorities. Without a word of reply, the whole party hurried forward and gained a point of observation behind the low bushes which crowned the ridge. Down in the gorge, just below the spot where Harold sea-dropped and his men lay concealed, a strange sight met the eyes of the two Englishmen in regard to which, despite all that they had heard and seen, and were prepared to see, they were as much shocked as if it had never been presented even to their imaginations up to that moment. It was a gang of slaves winding its way slowly, but steadily, through the gorge. The head of the dusky procession was just emerging on the open ground beyond the gorge when the travelers first came upon it. The slaves advanced towards the spot where they lay, passing under it so closely that they could see the very expressions on the faces of the men, women, and children who composed the gang. These expressions were varied and very terrible. Our travelers had now reached the fountainhead whence the perennial stream of black ivory flows out of Africa. The process of manufacture, although considerably advanced, had not yet reached that perfection of callous subjection and subtle despair which had struck our Englishmen so forcibly in the slave market of Zanzibar. There was anxiety not unmingled with faint hope in the faces of some of the women, and a few of the more stalwart and courageous among the men were a fierce determined aspect which told of manhood not yet absolutely prostrated in the dust of abject servility, while in regard to some of the children, surprise at the peculiar circumstances of their surroundings had not yet been swallowed up in the condition of chronic terror. They marched in a long line, fastened to each other by chains and ropes, and heavy gories or slave-sticks. The latter implements were poles from six to seven feet long with a fork at the end of each, in which the necks of the men were fitted and secured by means of an iron bolt, passing across the throat and riveted at both ends. To render marching possible with such encumbrances, the men went in couples, one behind the other, so that the slave-stick of the leading man could be tied to the stick of his fellow behind, which was slewed round to the front for the purpose. Their wrists were also tied, some in front, others behind their backs. Secured thus, Hercules himself might have been reduced to obedience, especially if he had felt the frequent sting of the cruel lash that was laid on these captives, a lash whose power was made manifest by the numerous seams and scars which crossed and recrossed their backs and limbs. The women and children were deemed sufficiently secure by being fastened to each other with ropes and iron rings round their necks. All were naked, with the exception of a little piece of cloth round the loins, and some of the women had infants of a few weeks old strapped to their backs by means of this shred of cloth, while others carried baskets on their heads containing meal for the sustenance of the party during their journey. In advance of the line marched a tall, powerfully built half-caste, armed with a musket and small axe, and clad in a loose coat short drawers reaching the knees and straw hat. He was, obviously, the commander of the band. Behind him came several negroes, also armed with muskets, and with thick wands for the purpose of flagellation. These wore loincloths and turbans or red caps, but nothing more. They laughed, talked and strutted as they went along, forming a marked contrast to the silent and depressed slaves. At intervals along the line and in rear there were station one or two of these drivers who urged on their cattle with more or less cruelty according to their individual impulses or natures. We need, scarcely say, that this site filled Harold and Disco not only with feelings of horror and pity, but with sensations of towering indignation that almost suffocated them. Those who only read of such things at home can form but a faint conception of what it is actually to behold them. We must fight, muttered Harold between his teeth. Disco could not speak, but he looked at his companion and gave a nod that plainly indicated the state of his feelings. Shhh, hissed Chimbolo, creeping up at that moment and laying his hand which trembled violently on Harold's shoulder. Marisano! What, the scoundrel in advance? Chimbolo pointed to the leader of the slave gang and almost foamed at the mouth with suppressed rage. At that moment their attention was attracted to a woman who walked immediately behind the slavers. She was a young and, according to African ideas, a comely girl, but was apparently very weak, so weak that she panted and stumbled as she went along. A circumstance which was accounted for by the little infant tied to her back, which could not have been more than a couple of weeks old. Stumbling against the fallen branch of a tree, she fell at last with a low wail to the ground and made no effort, as on previous occasions, to recover herself. The whole gang stopped and Marisano, turning back, pushed the woman with his foot. A fine-looking young man, who was the leader in a couple secured by a slave stick, seemed to regard this woman with a degree of interest that argued near relationship. He started forward half involuntarily when the Portuguese half-cast kicked her. He had forgotten for an instant his fellow in rear, as well as the bar of the gore across his throat, which checked him violently. At the same time, one of the drivers, who had observed the movement, laid a supple wand across his bare back so sharply as to draw forth a terrific yell of agony. This was too much for disco Lillehammer. Unable to restrain himself, he leaped up, seized his rifle by the muzzle with both hands, and on swinging it around his head, rushed upon Marisano with a bursting shout of rage and defiance. It is probable that the half-caste leader, who was by no means destitute of courage, would have stood his ground had his assailant been a man of color. But this unexpected apparition of a white man with a fiery countenance and blue eyes that absolutely flashed as he rushed forward with irresistible fury was too much for him. Firing hastily and with bad aim, Marisano turned and fled into the woods, followed by all his men. There was, however, a large band of Ajaua savages in rear, armed with bows and poison arrows. When he encountered these, the Portuguese chief Haldoc and rallying his men took shelter behind trees and began to fire at the advancing enemy. Seeing this, Harold drew his men together and made them fire a united volley, which had the effect of utterly routing the slavers. Disco, meanwhile, finding that he could not overtake Marisano, at last did what he ought to have done at first, kneel down, took deliberate aim at him, and fired. His agitation prevented accuracy of aim. Nevertheless, he succeeded in sending a bullet through the fleshy part of the man's arm above the elbow, which effectually put him to flight. Returning to the slave, who had been left standing where they were first stopped, in a state of great surprise and perplexity, he assisted his companions in freeing them. This was easy enough in regard to the women and children, but the go-rees on the men were very difficult to remove. Being riveted, as we have said, it became necessary to split the force with hatchets, an operation which endangered the heads of the poor captives and hurt their galled necks considerably. It was accomplished, however, in the midst of a great deal of excitement and hurry conversation, while Jumbo and his comrades kindled fires and Harold bade the woman cook the meal, which they had hitherto carried for themselves and their children. They seemed to consider this too good news to be true, but on being encouraged began with alacrity. Don't be a feared lass, cried disco patting a young woman on the head. Eat as much as you like. You need it, poor thing, and stuff the children till they can't hold no more. Bust them if you can. The slavers won't come back here in a hurry. Ha! I only wish they would and let us have a brush with them. But there's no such luck. Cowards never fight, except when they're sure to win. Now, pick an any. Here you are. He said stuffing some raw Marpira meal into the open mouth of a thin little girl of about six or seven who was gazing at him in open-eyed surprise. Don't put off time. You're half starved already. The little black skeleton began to chew the dry meal with evident satisfaction, but without taking her eyes off her deliverer. Who are you, as the somewhat older girl of Harold, whom she regarded with looks of reverence and wonder? Of course, Harold did not understand her, but he immediately called Antonio, who translated. Who are you, she said, the other people tied and starved us, but you cut the ropes and tell us to eat. What sort of people are you? Where did you come from? To this, Harold replied briefly that he was an Englishman who hated slavers and slavery, but he said nothing more at that time as he intended to have a palaver and explanation with the freed captives after their meal was over. There was a great clapping of hands among the slaves, expressive of gratitude on hearing that they were free. About a hundred sat down to that meal, most of whom were women and children, and the manner in which they devoured the food set before them told eloquently of their previous sufferings. At first they timidly held back, scarce venturing to believe that their new captors as they thought them were in earnest, but when their doubts and fears were removed, they attacked them a pure of porridge like ravening wolves. Gradually the human element began to reappear in the shape of a comment or a smile, and before long the women were chatting together, and a few of the stronger among the young children were making feeble attempts to play. When the oldest man of the party, who appeared to be between 20 and 30, was brought forward in question, he gave some interesting and startling information. Tell him, said Harold to Antonio, that we are Englishmen, that we belong to the same nation as the great white man, Dr. Livingston, who traveled through this land some years ago, the nation which hates slavery because the great God hates it, and would have all men to be free to serve each other in love and to do to other people as they would have other people do to them. Ask him also where he comes from, and who captured him and his companions. To this the negro replied, What the white man says may be true, but the white men seem to tell lies too much. The men who killed our warriors burned our villages and took our women and children away came to us saying that they were friends, that they were the servants of the same people as the white man Livingston, and wanted to trade with us. When we believed and trusted them and were off our guard, they fired on us with their guns. We know not what to think or to believe. Harold was much perplexed by this reply, for he knew not what evidence to cite in proof that he at least was not a deceiver. Tell him, he said at length, that there are false white men as well as true, and that the best proof I can give him that I am one of the true is to set him and his friends at liberty. They are now as free to go where they please as we are. On receiving this assurance, the negro retired to consult with his friends. Meanwhile, Antonio, who seemed to have been touched by the unvarying kindness with which he had been treated by his employers, opened his mind to them and gave them a good deal of information of which the substance is as follows. At that time, the merchants of the Portuguese inland town of Teite, on the Zambezi, were carrying on the slave trade with unusual vigor, for this reason that they found it difficult to obtain ivory except in exchange for slaves. In former years they had carried on a trade in ivory with a tribe called the Banyi, these Banyi being great elephant hunters, but it happened that they went to war with another tribe named the Marebele, who had managed to steal from them all their women and children. Consequently, the forlorn Banyi said to the Teite merchants, when they went to trade with them as they had been accustomed to do, we do not want your merchandise, bring us women and children, and you shall have as much ivory as you wish. These good people of Teite, being chiefly half-caste Portuguese and under Portuguese government, and claiming as they do to be the possessors of that region of Africa, are so utterly incapable of holding their own that they are under the necessity of paying tribute to a tribe of savages who come down annually to Teite to receive it, and who for that tribute would, as they easily could, expel them from the land. These merchants of Teite, moreover, in common with all the Portuguese in Africa, are by the laws of Portugal prohibited from engaging in the export slave trade. They are not, however, forbidden to engage temporarily in the domestic slave trade, hence they had sent out slaving parties, in other words robbers, kidnappers, murderers, who hired the warlike Ajawa tribe to aid them in killing the Manganja men, and robbing them of their wives and little ones by which means they were unable to supply the demand for such cattle among the Banyai, and thus obtain the desired supply of ivory. So vigorously had this slave traffic then carried on at the time of which we write that no fewer than two hundred people, mostly women and children, were carried out of the hill country every week. Note, see the university's mission to Central Africa, page 112, and note. In a short time the Negro returned to the place where Harold and Disko were seated, and said that he believed his white deliverers were true men, but added that he and his people had no home to go to. Their village having been burnt and all the old people and warriors killed were dispersed by Marisano, who was a terribly cruel man. In proof of this assertion he said that only the day before Marisano had shot two of the women for attempting to untie their thongs, a man had been killed with an axe because he had broken down with fatigue, and a woman had her infant's brains dashed out because she was unable to carry it, as well as the load assigned to her. It is difficult to decide what one should do in these circumstances, said Harold to Disko. You know it would never do to leave these helpless people here to starve, that if we take them on with us, our progress will be uncommonly slow. We'd better take them back, said Disko. Back where to? Why, to the last village what we passed through, and ain't more than a day's march, and I'm sure the old feller, as his captain of it, would take care of a lot. There is good advice in that, yet I grudge to go back, said Harold. If there were a village the same distance in advance, I would rather take them on. But there ain't, returned Disko. Hello, I say, what's wrong with Tony? The interpreter came forward with a look of much excitement as he spoke. What now, Antonio? Oh, it's Dreffel, replied the interpreter. They tells me have here, Marisana speak, another slaving party what goes straight to Canberra's village for to attack it. Who told you that? Are they sure? asked Harold hastily. Two tree-manners told me, replied Antonio. All say, same ting. Too late to help him now, me's frayed. Never too late, cried Disko, starting up. Never say die while there's a shot in the locker. It may be time enough yet if we only look sharp. I vote that we leave nearly all the provisions we have with these four critters here, up anchor, about ship, clap on all sail, and away this weary minute. Harold agreed with this advice heartily, and at once acted on it. The arrangements were quickly made, the provisions distributed, an explanation made, and in less than an hour the travelers were retracing their steps in hot haste. By taking a straight line and making forced marches, they arrived inside of the ridge where they had last seen Canberra on the evening of the third day. As they drew near, Harold pushed impatiently forward, and outrunning his companions was first to reach the summit. Disko's heart sank within him, for he observed that his companions stood still, bowed his head, and covered his face with both hands. He soon joined him, and a groan burst from the seaman's breast when he saw dense volumes of smoke rising above the spot where the village had so recently lain a picture of peaceful beauty. Even their followers, accustomed though they were to scenes and deeds of violence and cruelty, could not witness the grief of the Englishman unmoved. Crafts said Disko and a husky voice, there's some of them left alive, hiding in the bushes. It may be so, replied Harold, as he descended the slope with rapid strides, God help them. A few minutes suffice to bring them to the scene of ruin, but the devastation caused by the fire was so great that they had difficulty in recognizing the different spots where the huts had stood. Canberra's hut was, however, easily found as it stood on a rising ground. There the fight with the slavers had evidently been fiercest, for around it lay the charred and mutilated remains of many human bodies. Some of these were so far indistinguishable that it could be told whether they belonged to man, woman, or child. Look here, said Disko in a deep stern voice, as he pointed to an object on the ground, not far from the hut. It was the form of a woman who had been savagely mangled by her murderers. The upturned and distorted face proved it to be Yochama. The grandmother of little Oboe. Near to her laid the body of a grey-haired negro, who might to judge from his position have fallen in attempting to defend her. Oh, if the people of England only saw this site, said Harold in a low tone, if they only believed in and realized this fact, there would be one universal and indignant shout of no toleration of slavery anywhere throughout the world. Look closely for Canberra or his son, he had it turning to his men. A careful search among the sickening remains was accordingly made, but without any discovery worth noting being made, after which they searched the surrounding thickets. Here sad evidence of the poor fugitives having been closely pursued was found in the dead bodies of many of the old men and women, and of the very young children and infants, also the bodies of a few of the warriors. All these had been speared chiefly through the back. Still they were unsuccessful in finding the bodies of the chief for his little boy. It's plain, said Disco, that they have either escaped or been took prisoners. Here is someone not quite dead, said Harold. Ah, poor fellow! He raised the unfortunate man's head on his knee and recognized the features of the little man who had entertained them with his tunes on the native violin. It was in vain that Antonio tried to gain his attention while Disco moistened his lips with water. He had been pierced in the chest with an arrow. Once only he opened his eyes and a faint smile played on his lips as if he recognized friends. But it faded quickly and left the poor musician a corpse. Leaving with heavy hearts the spot where they had spent such pleasant days and nights, enjoying the hospitality of Canberra and his tribe, our travelers began to retrace their steps to the place where they had left the rescued slaves. But that night the small frame of Disco Lillehammer succumbed to the influence of climate. He was suddenly stricken with African fever, and in a few hours became as helpless as a little child. In this extremity Harold found it necessary to encamp. He selected the highest and healthiest spot in the neighborhood, caused his followers to build a rude but comparatively comfortable hut, and set himself diligently to hunt for and attend his sick friend. Chapter 16 of Black Ivory by R. M. Valentine This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 16 treats of love, hatred, and sorrow and proves that slavery and its consequences are not confined to black men and women. We must now change the scene to the garden of that excellent governor, Senor Francisco Alfonso Toledo Bignosso Littoti, and the date to three months in advance of the period in which occurred the events related in the last chapter. Margarita, I am sorry to find that you still persist in encouraging that morbid regret for the loss of one who cannot now be recovered. Thus spoke the governor in tones that were unusually petalant for one who idolized his child. Father, why did you sell her without saying a word to me about your intention? It was very, very, very unkind. Indeed it was. Poor Margarita's eyes were already red and swollen with much weeping. Nevertheless, she proceeded to increase the redness and swelling by a renewed burst of passionate distress. The worthy governor found it difficult to frame a reply or to administer suitable consolation, for in his heart he knew that he had sold azinte, as it were, surreptitiously, to Marizano for an unusually large sum of money at a time when his daughter was absent on a visit to a friend. The noted Portuguese kidnapper, murderer, rebel, and traitor in black ivory, having recovered from his wound had returned to the town, and being well aware of azinte's market value as a rare and remarkably beautiful piece of ivory of extra-superfine quality had threatened as well as tempted Governor Lutodi beyond his powers of resistance. Marizano did not want the girl as his own slave. He wanted dollars and, therefore, destined her for the markets of Arabia or Persia, where the smooth-tongued and yellow-skinned inhabitants hold that robbery, violence, and cruelty such as would make the flesh of civilized people creep, although horrible vices in themselves are nevertheless quite justifiable when covered by the sanction of that miraculous talisman called a domestic institution. The British government had, by treaty, agreed to respect slavery in the dominions of the Sultan of Zanzibar as a domestic institution with which it would not interfere. Governor Lutodi's heart had smitten him at first, for he really was an amiable man, and felt kindly disposed of humanity at large, slaves included. Unfortunately, the same kindness was concentrated with tenfold power on himself, so that when self-interest came into play, the amiable man became capable of deeds that Marizano himself might have been proud of. The only difference, in fact, between the two was that the Governor, like the drunkard, often felt ashamed of himself and sometimes wished that he were a better man, while the man-stealer gloried in his deeds and had neither wish nor intention to improve. Margarita, says Senior Lutodi, still somewhat petulantly, though with more of remonstrance in his tone. How can you speak so foolishly? It was out of my power, you know, to speak to you when you were absent about what I intended to do. Besides, I was, at the time, very much in need of some ready money, for although I am rich enough, there are times when most of my capital is what businessmen called locked up, and therefore not immediately available. In these circumstances, Marizano came to me with a very tempting offer, but there are plenty of good looking, amiable affectionate girls in Africa. I can easily buy you another slave quite as good as Azinte. As good as Azinte, echoed Margarita wildly, starting up and gazing at her father with eyes that flashed through her tears. Azinte, who has opened her heart to me, her bursting, bleeding heart, and told me all her former joys and all her present woes, and who loves me as she loves I better than she loves her own soul merely because I dropped a few tears of sympathy on her little hand. Another as good as Azinte, she cried with increasing vehemence. Would you listen with patience to anyone who should talk to you of another as good as Margarita? Nay, but, remonstrated the governor, you are now raving. Your feelings towards Azinte cannot be compared with my love for you. If you loved me as I thought you did, you would not. You could not have thus taken from me my darling little maid. Oh, shame, shame on you, father. She could say no more, but rushed from the room to fling herself down and sob out her feelings in the privacy of her own chamber, where she was sought out by the Black Cook, who had overheard some of the conversation and was a sympathetic soul. But that amiable domestic happened to be inopportunely officious. She instantly fled from the chamber, followed by the nearest pair of little slippers imaginable, which hit her on the back of her wooly head. For Margarita, like other spoiled children, had made up her mind not to be comforted. Meanwhile, the governor paced the floor of his drawing room with uneasy feelings, which, however, were suddenly put to flight by the report of a gun. Hastening to the window, he saw that the shot had been fired by a war steamer which was entering the bay. Ha, the firefly! Good! exclaimed the governor, with a gratified look. This will put it all right. He said nothing more, but left the room hastily. It may, however, be as well to explain that his remark had referenced to the mutual affection which he was well aware existed between his daughter and the gallant Lieutenant Lindsay. He had not indeed the most remote intention of permitting Margarita to wed the penniless officer, but he had no objection whatever to their flirting as much as they pleased, and he'd readily perceived that nothing would be more likely to take the signorita's thoughts off her lost maid than the presence of her lover. There was a bower in a secluded corner of the Governor Littoty's garden, a very charming bower, indeed, in which Lieutenant Lindsay had been want at times when duty to the Queen of England permitted to hold sweet converse with the Queen of his soul. What that converse was, it neither becomes us to say, nor the reader to inquire. Perhaps it had reference to astronomy, her chance to domestic economy. At all events, it was always eminently satisfactory to both parties engaged, save when the signorita indulged in a little touch of waywardness, and sent the poor officer back to his ship with a heavy heart, for the expressed purpose of teaching him the extent of her power and the value of her favor. She overclouded him now and then, just to make him the more ardently long for sunshine, and to convince him that in the highest sense of the word he was a slave. To this bower, then, the signorita returned with a sad heart and swollen eyes to indulge in vain regrets. Her sorrows had overwhelmed her to such an extent that she failed to observe the Firefly's salute. It was therefore with a look of genuine surprise and agitation that she suddenly beheld Lieutenant Lindsay, who had availed himself of the first pre-moment striding up the little path that led to the bower. Margarita, he exclaimed, looking at amazement at the countenance of his lady-love, which was what Norseman's style, begruten, but Margarita was in no mood to be driven out of her humor, even by her lover. I am miserable, she said with vehemence, clenching one of her little fists as though she meditated an assault on the lieutenant. Utterly, absolutely inconsolably miserable. If Lindsay had entertained any doubt regarding the truth of her assertion, it would have been dispelled by her subsequent conduct, for she buried her face in a handkerchief and burst into tears. Beloved, adorable, tender, delicious Margarita were words which leapt into the lieutenant's mind, but he dare not utter them with his lips. Neither did he venture to class Margarita's waist with his left arm, lay her pretty little head on his breast, and smooth her luxuriant hair with his right hand, though he felt almost irresistibly tempted so to do. Entirely from feelings of pity, of course, for the signorita had hitherto permitted no familiarities beyond a gentle pressure of the hand on meeting and at parting. It is unnecessary to repeat all that the bashful though ardent man of war said to Margarita, or all that Margarita said to the man of war, how ignoring the celestial orbs and domestic economy, she launched out into a rhapsodical panagyric of azinte. Told how the poor slave had unburdened her heart to her about her handsome young husband and her darling little boy in the far-off interior, from whom she had been rudely torn, and whom she never expected to see again. And how she, Margarita, had tried to console azinte by telling her that there was a heaven where good people might hope to meet again. Even though they never met on earth, and a great deal more besides, to all of which the earnest lieutenant sought to find words wherewith to express his pity and sympathy, but found them not, though he was at no loss to find words to tell the queen of his soul that, in the peculiar circumstances of the case, and all things considered, his love for her, Margarita, was tenfold more intense than it had ever been before. Foolish boy, said that Signorina, smiling through her tears. What is the use of telling me that? Can it do any good to azinte? Not much, I'm afraid, replied the lieutenant. Well, then don't talk nonsense, but tell me what I am to do to recover my little maid. It is impossible for me to advise, said the lieutenant with a perplexed look. But you must advise, said Margarita, with great decision. Well, I will try. How long is it since azinte was taken away from you? About two weeks. You say that Marizano was the purchaser. Do you know to what part of the coast he intended to convey her? How should I know? I have only just heard of the matter from my father. Well, then, you must try to find out from your father all that he knows about Marizano and his movements. That is the first step. After that I will consider what can be done. Yes, Signorina, said Margarita, rising suddenly. You must consider quickly, and you must act at once, for you must not come here again until you bring me news of azinte. Poor Lindsay, who knew enough of the girl's character to believe her to be thoroughly in earnest, protested solemnly that he would do his utmost. All that Margarita could have certain from her father was that Marizano meant to proceed to Kilwa, the great slave depot of the coast, there to collect a large cargo of slaves and proceed with them to Arabia, whenever he had reason to believe that the British cruisers were out of the way. This was not much to go upon, but the Signorina was as unreasonable as were the Egyptians of old when they insisted on the Israelites making bricks without straw. He was unexpectedly helped out of his dilemma by Captain Romer, who called him into his cabin that same evening, told him that he had obtained information of the movements of slavers, which induced him to think it might be worthwhile to watch the coast to the northward of Cape Delgado, and bade him prepare for a cruise in charge of the cutter, adding that the steamer would soon follow and keep them in view. With a lightened heart Lindsay went off to prepare, and late that night the cutter quietly pulled away from the Firefly's side with a well-armed crew and provisioned for a short cruise. Their object was to proceed as steadily as possible along the coast, therefore they kept inside of islands as much as possible, and cruised about a good deal at night, always sleeping on board the boat, as the low lying coast was very unhealthy, but landing occasionally to obtain water and to take a survey of the sea from convenient heights. Early one morning as they were sailing with a very light breeze between two small islands, a vessel was seen looming through the haze, not far from shore. Jackson, one of the men who has been introduced to the reader at an earlier part of this narrative, was the first to observe the strangers. It's a brig, he said. I can make out her royals. No, it's a bar, said the coxswain. A little midshipman, named Midgley, differed from both, and said it was a large dow, for he could make out the top of its Latine sail. Whatever it is, we'll give chase, said Lindsay, ordering the men to put out the oars and give way, the sail being of little use. In a few minutes the haze cleared sufficiently to prove that Midgley was right. At the same time it revealed to those on board the dow that they were being chased by the boat of a man of war. The little wind that blew at the time was insufficient to enable the dow to weather a point just ahead of her, and the cutter roared down on her so fast that it was evidently impossible for her to escape. Seeing this the commander of the dow at once ran straight for the shore. Before the boat could reach her she was among the breakers on the bar, which were so terrible that that part of the coast as the render landing in a small boat quite out of the question. In a few minutes the dow was hurled on the beach and began to break up, while her crew and cargo of slaves swarmed into the sea and tried to gain the shore. It seemed to those in the boat that some hundreds of Negroes were struggling at one time in the seething foam. We must risk it and try to save some of the poor wretches, cried Lindsay. Give way lads, give way. The boat shot in amongst the breakers and was struck by several seas in succession and nearly swamped air had reached the shore, but they were too late to save many of the drowning. Most of the strongest of the slaves had gained the shore and taken to the hills in wild terror under the impression so carefully instilled into them by the Arabs that the only object the Englishmen had in view was to catch, cook, and eat them. The rest were drowned with the exception of two men and seven little children, varying from five to eight years of age, who were found crawling on the beach in such a state of emaciation that they could not follow their companions into the bush. They tried, however, in their own feeble helpless way to avoid capture and the terrible fate which they thought awaited them. They were soon lifted tenderly into the boat. Here Jackson cried Lindsay, lifting one of the children in his strong arms and handing it to the sailor. Carry that one very carefully, she seems to be almost gone. God help her poor, poor child. There was good cause for Lindsay's pity, for the little girl was so thin that every bone in her body was sticking out, her elbow and knee joints being the largest parts of her shrunken limbs, and it was found that she could not rise or even stretch herself out in consequence, as was afterwards a certain of her being kept for many days in the dow in a sitting posture with her knees doubled up against her face. Indeed, most of the poor little things captured were found to be more or less stiffened from the same cause. An Arab interpreter had been sent with Lindsay, but he turned out to be so incapable that it was scarcely possible to gain any information from him. He was either stupid in reality or pretended to be so. The latter supposition is not improbable, for many of the interpreters furnished to the men of war on that coast were found to be favorable to the slavers, in so much that they had been known to mislead those whom they were paid to serve. With great difficulty the cutter was pulled through the surf. That afternoon the firefly hoeved in sight and took the rescued slaves on board. Next day, two boats from the steamer chased another dow on the shore, but with even less result than before, were the whole of the slaves escaped to the hills. On the day following, however, a large dow was captured, with about a hundred and fifty slaves on board, all of whom were rescued and the dow destroyed. The dows which were thus chased or captured were all regular and undisguised slavers. Their owners were openly engaged in what they knew was held to be piracy alike by the Portuguese, the Sultan of Zanzibar, and the English. They were exporting slaves from Africa to Arabia and Persia, which is an illegal species of traffic. In dealing with these, no difficulty was experienced except the difficulty of catching them. When caught, the dows were invariably destroyed and the slaves set free, that is to say, carried to those points where they might be set free with safety. But there were two other sorts of traffickers in the bodies and souls of human beings who were much more difficult to deal with. There were, first, the legal slave traders, namely the men who conveys slaves by sea from one part of the Sultan of Zanzibar's dominions to another. This kind of slavery was prosecuted under the shelter of what we have already referred to as a domestic institution. It involved, as we have said before, brutality, injustice, cruelty, theft, murder, and extermination. But being a domestic institution of Zanzibar, it was held to be legal, and the British government have recognized and tolerated it by treaty for a considerable portion of this century. It is, however, but justice to ourselves to say that our government entered into the treaty with the view of checking, limiting, and mitigating the evils of the slave trade. We have erred in recognizing any form of slavery, no matter how humane our object was, one proof of which is that we have, by our interference, unintentionally increased the evils of slavery instead of abating it. It is worthwhile remarking here that slavery is also a domestic institution in Arabia and Persia. If it be right that we should not interfere with the Zanzibar institution, why should we interfere with that of Arabia and Persia? Our treaty appears to have been founded on the principle that we ought to respect domestic institutions. We maintain a squadron on the east coast of Africa to stop the flow of Africans to the latter countries while we permit the flow by treaty as well as by practice to the former. Is this consistent? The only difference between the two cases is one of distance, not of principle. But to return to our point, the legal traders, in consequence of the sultans' dominions lying partly on an island and partly on the mainland, his domestic institution necessitates boats, and in order to distinguish between his boats and the pirates, there is a particular season fixed in which he may carry his slaves by sea from one part of his dominions to another, and each boat is furnished with papers which prove it to be a legal trader. This is the point on which the grand fallacy of our interference hinges. The domestic institution would be amply supplied by about four thousand slaves a year. The so-called legal traders are simply legalized deceivers, who transport not fewer than thirty thousand slaves a year. It must be borne in mind that these thirty thousand represent only a portion, the Zanzibar portion, of the great African slave trade. From the Portuguese settlements to the south, and from the north by way of Egypt, the export of Negroes' slaves is larger. It is estimated that the total number of human beings enslaved on the east and northeast coast of Africa is about seventy thousand a year. As all authorities agree in the statement that, at the lowest estimate, only one out of every five captured survives to go into slavery, this number represents a loss to Africa of three hundred and fifty thousand human beings a year. They leave Zanzibar with full cargoes continually, with far more than is required for what we may term home consumption. Nevertheless, correct papers are furnished to them by the Sultan, which protects them from British cruisers within the prescribed limits, namely, between Cape Delgado and La Mou, a line of coast about fifteen hundred miles in extent. But it is easy for them to evade the cruisers in these wide seas and extensive coasts, and the value of black ivory is so great that the loss of a few is but a small matter. On reaching the northern limits, the legal traders become pirates. They run to the northward and take their chance of being captured by cruisers. The reason of all this is very obvious. The Sultan receives nearly half a sovereign ahead for each slave imported into Zanzibar, and our governments in time past have allowed themselves to entertain the belief that, by treaty, the Sultan could be induced to destroy this, the chief source of his revenue. Surely it is not too much to say that Great Britain ought to enter into no treaty whatever in regard to slavery, accepting such as shall provide for the absolute, total, and immediate extirpation thereof by what so ever name called. Besides these two classes of slavers, the open professional pirates, and the sneaking, deceiving domestic slavers, there are the slave smugglers. They are men who profess to be, and actually are, legal traders in ivory, gum, kopal, and other produce of Africa. These fellows manage the smuggle two or three slaves each voyage to the black ivory markets under pretense that they form part of the crew of their dowes. It is exceedingly difficult, almost impossible for the officers of our cruisers to convict these smugglers, to distinguish between slaves and crews. Consequently, immense numbers of slaves are carried off to the northern ports in this matter. Sometimes these dowes carry Arab or other passengers, and when there are so many slaves on board when it would be obviously absurd to pretend that they form part of the crew, the owner dresses the poor wretches up in the habiliments that come most readily to hand, and passes them off as the wives or servants of these passengers. Anyone might see at a glance that the stupid, silent, timid looking creatures who have had almost every human element beaten out of them are nothing of the sort, but there is no means of proving them other than they are represented to be. If an interpreter were to ask them, they would be ready to swear anything that their owner had commanded. Hence the cruisers are deceived in every way, in many ways besides those now mentioned, and our philanthropic intentions are utterly thwarted. For the rescuing and setting free of one thousand or two thousand negroes a year out of the thirty thousand annually exported is not an adequate result for our great expense in keeping a squadron on the coast, especially when we consider that hundreds, probably thousands of slaves, perish amid horrible sufferings caused by the efforts of the man steelers to avoid our cruisers. These would probably not lose their lives and the entire body of slaves would suffer less if we did not interfere at all. From this we do not argue that non-interference would be best, but that as our present system of repression does not effectively accomplish what is aimed at, it ought to be changed. What the change should be, many wise and able men have stated. Their opinion we cannot quote here, but one thing taught to us by past experience is clear. We cannot cure the slave trade by merely eliminating it. Our motto in regard to slavery ought to be total and immediate extinction everywhere. I'm terribly worried and perplexed, said Lt. Lindsay one afternoon to midship and midgely, as they were creeping along the coast in the neighborhood of Cape Dalgato. Why so? inquired the midi. Because I can learn nothing whatever about the movements of Marisano, replied the Lt. I have not spoken to you about this man hitherto because, because that is to say, the fact is it isn't worthwhile seeing that you know no more about him than I do, perhaps not so much. But I can't help thinking that we might have learned something about him by this time. Only our interpreter is such an unmitigated ass, he seems to understand nothing, to pick up nothing. Indeed, exclaimed the midshipman, I'm surprised to hear you say so, because I heard Solomon whispering last night with that half cast fellow whom we captured along with the other niggers, and I am confident that he mentioned the name of Marisano several times. Did he? Well, now the rascal invariably looks quite blank when I mention Marisano's name and shakes his head as if he had never heard of it before. Couldn't you intimidate him into disgorging a little of his knowledge, suggest it midgely with an arched look? I have thought of that, replied Lindsay with a frown. Come, it's not a bad idea, I'll try. Hello, Solomon, come after, I want you. Lieutenant Lindsay was one of those men who are not apt to surprise people by the precipitancy of their actions. He was not indeed hasty, but when his mind was made up, he was not slow in proceeding to action. It was so, on the present occasion, to the consternation of Solomon, who had hitherto conceived him to be rather a soft, easygoing man. Solomon, he said in a low but remarkably firm tone of voice, you know more about Marisano than you choose to tell me. Now, he continued, gazing into the Arab's cold gray eyes while he pulled the revolver from his coat pocket and cocked it. I intend to make you tell me all you know about him, or to blow your brains out. He moved the pistol gently as he spoke and placed his forefinger on the trigger. I not know, began Solomon, who evidently did not believe him to be quite in earnest, but before the words had well left his lips, the drum of his left ear was almost split by the report of the pistol, and a part of his turban was blown away. You don't know, very well, said Lindsay, re-cocking the pistol, and placing the cold muzzle of it against the Arab's yellow nose. This was too much for Solomon. He grew pale, and suddenly fell on his knees. Oh, stop, no, no, not fire, me tell you about him. Good, get up and do so, said the lieutenant, uncocking the revolver, and returning it to his pocket, and be sure that you tell me all, else your life won't be worth the value of the damaged turban on your head. With a good deal of trepidation, the alarmed interpreter thereupon gave Lindsay all the information he possessed in regard to the slaver, which amounted to this, that he had gone to Kilwa, where he had collected a band of slaves sufficient to fill a large dow, with which he intended, in two days more, to sail, in company with a fleet of slavers for the north. Does he intend to touch and Zanzibar? inquired Lindsay. Metink, no, replied the interpreter, got many pretty girls, go straight for Persia. On hearing this lieutenant put the cutter about and sailed out to sea in search of the firefly, which he knew could not at that time be at any great distance from the shore. He found her sooner than he had expected, and to his immense astonishment as well as joy, one of the first persons he beheld on stepping over the side of his ship was a Zinte. You have captured Marisano, sir, I see, he said to Captain Romer. Not the scoundrel himself, but one of his dows, replied the captain, he had started from the northern ports with two heavily laden vessels. We discovered him five days ago, and fortunately just beyond the protected water, so that he was a fair and lawful prize. The first of his dows being farthest out from shore we captured, but the other commanded by himself succeeded in running his shore, and he escaped with nearly all his slaves, only a few of the women and children being drowned in the surf. And now as our cargo of poor wretches is pretty large, I shall run for the Seychelles. After landing them I shall return as fast as possible to intercept a few more of these pirates. To the Seychelles muttered the lieutenant to himself as he went below, with an expression on his countenance, something between surprise and despair. Poor Lindsay, his mind was so taken up with and confused by the constant and obtrusive presence of the Signorina Margarita that the particular turn which affairs had taken had not occurred to him, although that turn was quite natural and by no means improbable. Marisano, with a zente on board of one of his piratical dows, was proceeding to the north. Captain Romer, with his war steamer, was on the lookout for piratical dows, what more natural than that the captain should fall in with the pirate, but Lieutenant Lindsay's mind had been so filled with Margarita that it seemed to be, for the time, incapable of holding more than one other idea. That idea was the fulfillment of Margarita's commands to obtain information as to her loss a zente. To this he had a late devoted all his powers, happy in the thought that it fell in with and formed part of his duty to his queen and country, as well as to the queen of his soul. To rescue a zente from Marisano's steam to the bold lieutenant an easy enough matter, but to rescue her from his own captain and send her back into slavery? Ass that I am, he exclaimed, not to have thought of this before. Of course, she can never be returned to Margarita, and small comfort it will be to the Signorita to be told that her favorite is free in the Seychelles Islands and utterly beyond her reach, unless she chooses to go there and stay with her, overwhelmed with disgust and his own stupidity, and at the utter impossibility of doing anything to men matters, the unfortunate lieutenant sat down to think, and the result of his thinking was that he resolved at all events to look well after a zente and see that she should be cared for on her arrival at the Seychelles. Among the poor creatures who had been rescued from Marisano's thou were nearly a hundred children in such a deplorable condition that small hopes were entertained of their reaching the island alive. Their young lives, however, proved to be tenacious. Experienced though their hardy rescuers were in rough and tumble work, they had no conception what these poor creatures had already gone through, and therefore formed a mistaken estimate of their powers of endurance. Eighty-three of them reached the Seychelles alive. They were placed under the care of a warm-hearted missionary who spared no pains for their restoration to health, but despite his utmost efforts, forty of these eventually died. Their little frames had been whipped and starved and tried to such an extent that recovery was impossible. To the care of this missionary, Lieutenant Lindsey committed a zente, telling him as much of her sad story as he was acquainted with. The missionary willingly took charge of her and placed her as a nurse in the temporary hospital which he had instituted for the little ones above referred to. Here a zente proved herself to be a most tender, affectionate, and intelligent nurse to the poor children, for whom she appeared to entertain particular regard, and here on the departure of the firefly shortly afterwards, Lindsey left her in a state of comfort, usefulness, and comparative felicity. End of CHAPTER XVII This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter XVIII describes some of the doings of Yusuf and his men in procuring Black Ivory from the interior of Africa. A dirty shop in a filthy street in the unhealthy town of Zanzibar is the point to which we now beg leave to conduct our reader, whom we also request to leave in a free and easy way over a few months of time. It is not for the sake of the shop that we make this sleep, but for the purpose of introducing the two men who, at the time we write of, sat over their grog in a small back room connected with that shop. Still, the shop itself is not altogether unworthy of notice. It is what the Americans call a store, a place where you can purchase almost every article that the wants of man have called into being. The prevailing smells are of oil, sugar, tea, molasses, paint, and tar, a compound which confuses the discriminating powers of the nose, and on the principles that extremes meat removes the feeling of surprise that ought to be aroused by discovering that these odors are in close connection with haberdashery and hardware. There are enormous casts, punches, and kegs on the floor, bales on the shelves, indescribable confusion in the corners, preserve meat tins piled to the ceiling, with dust and dirt encrusting everything. The walls, beams, and rafters appear to be held together by means of innumerable cobwebs, hosts of flies fattened on without diminishing the stock, and squadrons of cockroaches career over the earthen floor. In the little back room of this shop sat the slave trader in Yusuf, in company with the captain of an English ship which lay in the harbor. Smoke from the captain's pipe filled the little den to such an extent that Yusuf and his friend were not so clearly distinguishable as might have been desired. You're all a set of false-hearted wrong-headed low-minded scoundrels, said the plain-spoken captain, accompanying each asservation with a puff so violent as to suggest the idea that his remarks were roundshot, and his mouth a cannon. The Britain was evidently not in a complementary mood. It was equally evident that Yusuf was not in a touchy vein, for he smiled the slightest possible smile and shrugged his shoulders. He had business to transact with the captain, which was likely to result very much to his advantage, and Yusuf was not the man to let feelings stand in the way of business. Moreover, pursued the captain in a gruff voice, the trade in slaves is illegally conducted in one sense, namely that it is largely carried on by British subject. How you make that out, asked Yusuf. How? Why? Easy enough. Aren't the richest men in Zanzibar the banyans? And don't these banyans who number about seventeen thousand of your population supply you Arabs with money to carry on the accursed slave trade? And ain't these banyans Indian merchants, subjects of Great Britain? Yusuf shrugged his shoulders again and smiled. And don't these opulent rascals continued the Britain love their ease as well as their money, and when they want to increase the latter without destroying the former, don't they make advances to the like of you and get one hundred percent out of you for every dollar advanced? Yusuf nodded his head decidedly at this, and smiled again. Well then, ain't the whole lot of you a set of mean scoundrels, said the captain fiercely. Yusuf did not smile at this. He even looked for a moment as if he were going to resent it, but it was only for a moment. Self-interest came opportunely to his aid and made him submissive. What can we do? He asked after a short silence. You know what the sultan say other day to one British officer. If you stop slave trade, you will ruin Zanzibar. We must not do that. Zanzibar must not be ruined. Why not? demanded the captain with the look of supreme contempt. What if Zanzibar was ruined? Look here now, Yusuf, your dirty little island. The whole island observe is not quite the size of my own Scotch County of Lanark. Its population is short of two hundred and fifty thousand, all told, scarce equal to the half of the population of Lanark, composed of semi-barbarians and savages. That's one side of the question. Here's the other side. Africa is one of the four quarters of the earth, with millions of vigorous niggers and millions of acres of splendid land and no end of undeveloped resources. And you have the impotence to tell me that an enormous lump of this land must be converted into a desert and something like one hundred and fifty thousand of its best natives to be drawn off annually? For what? For what, repeated the sailor, bringing his fist down on the table before him with such force that the glasses danced on it and the dust flew up? For what, I say? For a paltry pitiful island ruled by a sham sultan without army or navy and with little money, say, what he gets by slave trading? An island which has no influence for good on the world morally, religiously, or socially, and with little commercially, though it has much influence for evil. An island which has helped the Portuguese to lock up the east coast of Africa for centuries, an island which would not be missed, save as a removed curse if it were to sink this night to the bottom of the sea, and all its selfish sensual slave-dealing population swept entirely off the face of the earth. The captain had risen and dashed his pike to Adams on the floor in his indignation as he made these observations. He now made an effort to control himself, and then sitting down he continued. Just think, Yusuf. You're a sharp man of business, as I know to my cost. You can understand a thing in a commercial point of view, just try to look at it thus. On the one side of the world's account you have Zanzibar, sunk with all its banyan and Arab population. We won't sink the niggers poor wretches. We'll suppose them saved along with the council's missionaries and such like. Well, that's a loss of somewhere about 83,000 scoundrels. Again, we might call it, but for the sake of argument, we'll call it a loss. On the other side of the account, you have 30,000 niggers, fair average specimens of humanity, saved from slavery, besides something like 150,000 more saved from death by war and starvation, the results of the slave trade. 83,000 from 150,000 leaves 67,000. The loss you see would be more than wiped off and a handsome balance left at the world's credit the very first year, to say nothing of the opening up of legitimate commerce to one of the richest countries on earth, and the consequent introduction of Christianity. The captain paused to take a breath. Yusuf shrugged his shoulders and a brief silence ensued, which was happily broken, not by a recurrence to the question of slavery, but by the entrance of a slave. He came in search of Yusuf for the purpose of telling him that his master wished to speak with him. As the slave's master was one of the wealthy banyans just referred to, Yusuf rose at once, and apologizing to the captain for quitting him so hurriedly left that worthy son of Neptune to cool his indignation in solitude. Passing through several dirty streets, the slave led the slaver to a better sort of house in a more salubrious or rather less pestilential part of town. He was ushered into the presence of an elderly man of quiet, unobtrusive aspect. Yusuf said the banyan in Arabic, I have been considering the matter about which we had some conversation yesterday, and I find it will be convenient for me to make a small venture. I can let you have three thousand dollars. On the old terms, asked Yusuf, on the old terms, replied the merchant, will you be ready to start soon? Yusuf said that he would, that he had already completed the greater part of his preparations and that he hoped to start for the interior in a week or two. That is well. I hope you may succeed in doing a good deal of business, said the merchant with an amiable nod and smile, which might have led an ignorant onlooker to imagine that Yusuf's business in the interior was work of a purely philanthropic nature. There is another affair which it has struck me may lie in your way, continued the merchant. The British council is, I am told, anxious to find someone who will undertake to make inquiries in the interior about some Englishmen who are said to have been captured by the black fellows and made slaves of. Does the council know what tribe has captured them? asked Yusuf. I think not, but as he offers five hundred dollars for every lost white man who shall be recovered and brought to the coast alive, I thought that you might wish to aid him. True, said Yusuf Musing, true, I will go and see him. Accordingly the slave trader had an interview with the council during which he learned that there was no absolute certainty of any Englishman having been captured. It was only a vague rumor. Nevertheless, it was sufficiently probable to warrant the offer of five hundred dollars to anyone who should affect the rescue. Therefore Yusuf, having occasioned to travel into the interior at any rate, undertook to make inquiries. He was also told that two Englishmen had, not long before, purchased an outfit and started off with the intention of proceeding to the interior by way of the Zambezi River, and they, the council said, might possibly be heard of by him near the regions to which he was bound. But these he suggested could not be the men who were reported as missing. Of course Yusuf had not the most remote idea that these were the very Englishmen whom he himself had captured on the coast. For after parting from them abruptly, as described in a former chapter, he had ceased to care or think about them, and besides was ignorant of the fact that they had been the Zanzibar. Yusuf's own particular business required a rather imposing outfit. First of all he purchased and packed about six hundred pounds worth of beads of many colors, cloth of different kinds, thick brass wire, and a variety of cheap trinkets, such as black men and women or fond of. For Yusuf was an honest trader and paid his way when he found it suitable to do so. He likewise hired a hundred men whom he armed with guns, powder, and ball. For Yusuf was also a dishonest trader and fought his way when that course seemed most desirable. With this imposing caravan he embarked in a large dow, sailed for the coast, landed at Kilwa, and proceeded into the interior of Africa. It was a long and toilsome journey over several hundred miles of exceedingly fertile and beautiful country, eminently suited for the happy abode of natives. But Yusuf and his class who traded in Black Ivory had depopulated it to such an extent that scarce a human being was to be seen all the way. There were plenty of villages, but they were in ruins and acres of cultivated ground with the weeds growing rank where the grain had once flourished. Further on in the journey near the end of it there was a change. The weeds and grain grew together and did battle, but in most places the weeds gained the victory. It was quite evident that the whole land had once been a rich garden teeming with human life, savage life. No doubt still, not so savage but that it could manage to exist in comparative enjoyment and multiply. Yusuf passed through a hundred and fifty miles of this land. It was a huge grave which, appropriately enough, was profusely garnished with human bones. Note, see Livingston's tributaries of the Zambezi, page 391. End note. At last the slave trader reached lands which were not utterly forsaken. Entering a village one afternoon, he sent a present of cloth and bees to the chief, and after a few preliminary ceremonies announced that he wished to purchase slaves. The chief, who was a fine looking young warrior, said that he had no men, women, or children to sell, except a few criminals to whom he was welcome at a very low price, about two or three yards of calico each. There were also one or two orphan children whose parents had died suddenly and to whom no one in the village could lay claim. It was true that these poor orphans had been adopted by various families who might not wish to part with them, but no matter. The chief's command was law. Yusuf might have the orphans also for a very small sum, a yard of calico perhaps. But nothing would induce the chief to compel any of his people to part with their children, and none of the people seemed desirous of doing so. The slave trader therefore adopted another plan. He soon managed to ascertain that the chief had an old grudge against a neighboring chief. In the course of conversation, he artfully stirred up the slumbering ill will and carefully fanned it into a flame without appearing to have any such end in view. When the iron was sufficiently hot, he struck it, supplied the chief with guns and ammunition, and even as a great favor offered to lend him a few of his own men in order that he might make a vigorous attack on his old enemy. The device succeeded to perfection. War was begun without any previous declaration. Prisoners were soon brought in, not only men but women and children. The first were coupled together with heavy slave sticks which were riveted to their necks. The latter were attached to each other with ropes, and thus Yusuf in a few days was enabled to proceed on his journey with the goodly drove, a black cattle behind him. This occurred not far from Lake Nyasa, which he intended should be his headquarters for a time, while his men under a new leader whom he expected to meet there should push their victorious arms further into the interior. On reaching the shores of the noble lake, he found several birds of the same feather with himself. Arabs engaged in the same trade. He also found his old friend and trusty ally, Marisano. This gratified him much, for he was at once enabled to hand over the charge of the expedition to his lieutenant and send him forth on his mission. That same evening, a lovely and comparatively cool one, Yusuf and the half-caste sauntered on the margin of the lake, listening to the sweet melody of the free and happy birds, and watching the debarkation from a large boat of a band of miserable slaves who had been captured or purchased on the other side. Now, Marisano, said Yusuf, addressing the half-caste in his native tongue, I do not intend to cumber you with cloth or beads on this expedition. I have already spent a good deal in the purchase of slaves, who are now in my barricune, and I think it will be both cheaper and easier to make up the rest of the gang by means of powder and lead. It is lighter to carry and more effectual, remarked Marisano, with a nod of approval. True, returned Yusuf, and quicker. Will a hundred men and guns suffice? Eighty are enough to conquer any of the bow and spear tribes of this region, replied the half-caste carelessly. Good, continued Yusuf, then you shall start tomorrow. The tribes beyond this lake are not yet afraid of us, thanks to the mad Englishman Livingston, who has opened up the country and spread the information that white men are the friends of the black and hate slavery. Note, Livingston tells us that he found on ascending the Shire River that the Portuguese slave traders had followed closely in the footsteps of his previous discoveries and passed themselves off as his friends, by which means they were successful in gaining the confidence of the natives whom they afterwards treacherously murdered or enslaved. End of note, you may try to pass yourself off as a white man, though your face is not so white as might be desired. However, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that it is whiter than your heart. The Arabs smiled and glanced at his lieutenant. Marisano smiled, bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment, and replied that he believed himself to be second to no one except his employer in that respect. Well, then, continued Yusuf, you must follow up the discoveries of this Englishman. Give out that you are his friend and have come there for the same purposes, and when you have put them quite at their ease, commence a brisk trade with them for which purpose you may take with you just enough of cloth and beads to enable you to carry out the deception. For the rest I need not instruct. You know what to do as well as I. Marisano approved heartily of this plan and assured his chief that his views should be carried out to his entire satisfaction. But there is still another point, said Yusuf, on which I have to talk. It appears that there are some white men who have been taken prisoners by one of the interior tribes. I know not which. For the finding of whom the British Council at Zanzibar has offered me five hundred dollars. If you can obtain information about these men, it will be well. If you can find and rescue them, it will be still better, and you shall have a liberal share of the reward. While the Arab was speaking, the half-caste divage betrayed a slight degree of surprise. White men, he said, pulling up a sleeve and showing a gunshot wound in his arm which appeared to be not very old. A white man inflicted that not long ago and not very far from the spot on which we stand. I had vowed to take the life of that white man if we should ever chance to meet. But if it is worth five hundred dollars, I may be tempted to spare it. He laughed lightly as he spoke and then added with a thoughtful look. But I don't see how these men, there were two of them, if not more, can be prisoners because when I came across them, they were well armed, well supplied, and well attended. Else you may be sure they had not given me this wound and freed my slaves. But the scoundrels who were with me at the time were cowards. You are right, said Yusuf. The white men you met I heard of at Zanzibar. They cannot be the prisoners we are asked to search for. They have not yet been long enough away, I should think, to have come by any mischance. And the white men who are said to be lost have been talked about in Zanzibar for a long time. However, make diligent inquiries because the promise is that the five hundred dollars shall be ours if we rescue any white man, no matter who he may chance to be. And now I shall show you the cattle I have obtained on the way up. The barracune to which the Arabs led his lieutenant was a space enclosed by a strong and high stockade, in which slaves were kept under guard until a sufficient number should be secured to form a gang, wherewith to start for the coast. At the entrance stood a savage looking Portuguese half-caste armed with a gun. Inside there was an assortment of Yusuf's black ivory. It was in comparatively good condition at that time, not having traveled far, and as it was necessary to keep it up to a point of strength sufficient to enable it to reach the coast, it was pretty well fed, except in the case of a few rebellious articles. There were, however, specimens of damaged goods even there. Several of the orphans who had become Yusuf's property, although sprightly enough when first purchased, had not stood even the short journey to the lake so well as might have been expected. They had fallen off in flesh to such an extent that Yusuf was induced to remark to Marazzano as they stood surveying them that he feared they would never reach the coast alive. That one now, he said, pointing to a little boy who was tightly wedged in the midst of the group of slaves, and sat on the ground with his face resting on his knees, is the most troublesome piece of goods I have had to do with since I began business, and it seems to me that I am going to lose him after all. What's the matter with him? asked the half-caste. Nothing particular, only he is a delicate boy. At first I refused him, but he is so well made, though delicate, and such a good-looking child, and so spirited, that I decided to take him, but he turns out to be too spirited. Nothing that I can do will tame him. Oh, that won't do it, said Yusuf, observing that Marazzano raised a switch he carried in his hand with a significant action. I have beaten him till there is scarcely a sound inch of skin on his whole body, but it's of no use. Oh, stand up, called Yusuf, letting the lash of his whip fall lightly on the boy's shoulders. There was, however, no response. The Arab, therefore, repeated the order, and laid the lash across the child's bareback with a degree of force that would have caused the stoutest man to wince. Still, the boy did not move. Somewhat surprised, Yusuf pushed his way towards him, seized him by the hair, and threw back his head. The Arab left him immediately and remarked in a quiet tone that he should have no more trouble with him. He was dead. What's the matter with that fellow? asked Marazzano, pointing to a man who was employed in constantly rolling up a bit of wet clay and applying it to his left eye. He's another one of these unmanageable fellows, replied Yusuf. I have been trying to tame him by starvation. The other morning he fell on his knees before the man who guards the barracoon and entreated him to give him food. The guard is a rough fellow and had been put out of temper lately by a good many of the slaves. Instead of giving him food, he gave him a blow in the eye which burst the ball of it, and of course has rendered him worthless, but he won't trouble us long. In another place a woman crouched on the ground, having something wrapped in leaves which he pressed to her dried breast. It was the body of a child to which he had recently given birth in that place of woe. Leaving his cringing and terrified goods to the guardian of the barracoon, the Arab returned to his tent beside the beautiful lake, and there while enjoying the aroma of flowers and cool breeze and the genial sunshine and the pleasant influences which God has scattered with bountiful hand over that luxuriant portion of the earth, calmly concerted with Marizano the best method by which he could bring inconceivable misery on thousands of its wretched inhabitants.