 Part II. Slave Caravan The storm of the previous night by swirling the tributaries of the Kwanzaa had caused the main river to overflow its banks. The inundation had entirely changed the aspect of the country, transforming the plain into a lake, where the peaks of a number of ant hills with the sole objects that emerge of the water-esque fence. The Kwanzaa, which is one of the principal rivers of Angola, falls into the Atlantic about a hundred miles from the spot at which the pilgrim was stranded. The stream, which a few years later was crossed by Cameron on his way to Benguela, seems destined to become the chief highway of traffic between Angola and the interior. Steamers already ply upon its lower waters, and probably ten years will not elapse before they perform regular service along its entire course. Dick Sands had been quite right in searching northwards for the navigable stream he had been so anxious to find. The riverlet he had been following fell into the Kwanzaa, scared us a mile away, and had it not been for this unexpected attack he and his friends might reasonably have hoped to descend the river upon a raft, until they reached one of the Portuguese forts where steam vessels put in, but their fate was ordered otherwise. The camp which Dick had described from the ant hill was pitched upon an eminent crown by an enormous sycamore fig, one of those giant trees occasionally found in Central Africa, at which the spreading foliage will shelter some five hundred men, some of the non-fruit-bearing kind of banyan trees forming the background of the landscape. Beneath the shelter of the sycamore, the caravan, which had been referred to in conversation between Nagoro and Harris, had just made a halt. Torn from their villages by the agents of the slave dealer Alves, the large troop of natives was on its way to the markets of Kazande, thence to be sent as occasion required, either to the west coast or to Nyongwe, and the Great Lake District, to be dispersed into Upper Egypt or Zanzibar. Immediately on reaching the camp, the Four Negres and Al-Nan were placed under precisely the same treatment as the rest of the captives. In spite of a desperate resistance, they were deprived of their weapons and fastened two and two, one behind another, by names of a pole about six feet long, forked at each end and attached to their necks by an iron bolt. Their arms were left free that they might carry any burdens, and in order for to prevent an attempt to escape a heavy chain was passed around their waist. It was thus in single file, unable to turn either right or left, they would have to march hundreds of miles, goaded along their toilsome road by the Halvidar's whip. But a lot of Hercules seemed preferable, exposed though undoubtedly he would be in his flight to hunger, and to the attacks of wild beasts, and to all the perils of that dreary country. But solitude, with its worst privations, was a thing to be envied in comparison to being in the hands of those pitiless drivers, who did not speak a word of the language of their victims, but communicated with them only by threatening gestures or by actual violence. As a white man, Dick was not attached to any other captive. The drivers were probably afraid to subject him to the same treatment as the Negroes, and he was left unfettered, but placed under the strict surveillance of a Halvidar. At first he felt considerable surprise at not seeing Harris or Nagora in the camp, as he could not entertain a doubt that it was at their instigation the attack had been made upon their retreat. When he came to reflect that Mrs. Walden, Jack, and Cousin Benedict had not been allowed to come with them, but had been carried off in some other direction, he began to think it probable that the two rascals had some scheme to carry out with the guard to them elsewhere. The caravan consisted of nearly 800, including about 500 slaves of both sexes, 200 soldiers and free-booters, and a considerable number of Halvidars and drivers, over whom the agents acted as superior officers. These agents are usually a Portuguese or Abba extraction, and the cruelty as they inflict upon the miserable captives are almost beyond conception. They beat them continually, and if any unfortunate slave sinks from exhaustion, or in any way becomes unfit for the market, he is forthwith either stabbed or shot. As a result of this brutality, it really happens that 50 percent of the slaves reach their destination. Some few may can try to escape, and many are left as skeletons along the line of root. Such of the agents as our Portuguese are, as it may well be imagined, of the very lowest drags-of-society outlaws, escaped criminals, and many of the most desperate characters. Of this stamp were the associates of Negro and Harris, now in the employ of José Antonio Alves, one of the most notorious of all the slave dealers of Central Africa, and whom Commander Cameron has given some curious information. Most frequently the soldiers who escort the captives are natives hired by the dealers, but they do not possess the entire monopoly of the forays made for the purpose of securing slaves. The native Negro kings make war upon each other with this express design, and sell their vanquished antagonists, men, women, and children, to the traitors for calico guns, gunpowder, and red beads, or in times of famine, according to Livenston, even for a few grains of maize. Their escort of old Alves, Cameron, was an average specimen of these African soldiers. It was simply a horde of half-naked banditi, carrying old flintlocked muskets, the brows of which were decorated with copper rings. The agents are very often put to their wits' end to know how to manage them. Their orders are called into question. Hults are continually demanded, and in order to avert desertion they are frequently obliged to yield to the ofstriperous will of their undisciplined force. Although the slaves, both male and female, are compelled to carry burdens whilst on their march, a certain number of porters called pagazes is specially engaged to carry the more valuable merchandise and principally the ivory. Tests occasionally weigh as much as 160 pounds, and require two men to carry them to the depots, where they are sent to the markets of Khartoum, Natal, and Zanzibar. On their arrivals the pagazes are paid by the dealers, or into contract, which is generally either by about twenty yards of the cotton stuff, known as marikati, or by a little powder, by a handful or two of cowries, by some beads, or if all these be scarce, they are paid by being allotted some of the slaves who are otherwise unsailable. Among the five hundred slaves in the caravan very few were at all advanced in years. The explanation of this circumstance was that whenever a raid was made, and a village is set on fire, every inhabitant above the age of forty is mercilessly massacred or hung upon the neighboring trees. Only the children and young adults are both sexes or reserves for the market, and as these constitute only a small proportion of the vanquished, some idea may be formed of the frightful depopulation which these vast districts of equinoctual Africa are undergoing. Nothing could be more pitiable than the condition of these miscible herd. All alike were destitute of clothing, having nothing on them but a few strips of the stuff known as mbuza, made from the bark of trees. Many of the women were covered with bleeding wounds from the driver's lashes, and had their feet lacerated by the constant friction of the road, but in addition to other burdens were compelled to carry their own emaciated children. Young men, too, there were those who had lost their voices from exhaustion, and who, to use Livingston's expression, had been reduced to ebony skeletons by toiling under the yoke of the fork, which is far more galling than the galley-chain. It was a sight that might have moved the most stony-hearted, but yet there was no symptom of compassion on the part of those Arab and Portuguese drivers, whom Cameron pronounces worse than brutes. Footnote. Cameron says, in order to obtain the fifty women of whom Alves is the owner, ten villages containing altogether a population of not less than fifteen hundred were totally destroyed. A few of the inhabitants can try to escape, but the majority either perished in the flames, or slain in defending their families, or were killed by hunger or wild beasts in the jungle. The cries which are perpetuated in Africa by men who call themselves Christians seem credible to the inhabitants of civilized countries. It is impossible that the government at Lisbon can be aware of the atrocities committed by those who post of being subject to her flag toward demand. MB. Against these assertions of Cameron, loud protestations have been made in Portugal. The guard over the prisoners was so strict that Dick Sands felt it would be utterly useless for him to make any attempt to seek from Mrs. Walden. She and her son had doubtless been carried off by Nagoro, and his heart sank when he thought of the dangers to which, too probably, she would be exposed. Again and again he repeated his reproaches on himself, that he had ever allowed either Nagoro or Harris to escape his hands. Neither Mrs. Walden nor Jack could expect the least assistance from Cousin Benedict. The good man was barely able to consult for himself. All three of them would, he conjectured, be conveyed to some remote district of Angola. The poor mother, like some miserable slave, would insist upon carrying her own sick son until her strength failed her. And exhausted by her endurance, she sank down helpless on the way. A prisoner and powerless to help, the very thought was itself a torture to poor Dick. Even Dingo was gone. It would have been a satisfaction to have had the dog to send off upon the track of the lost ones. Only one hope remained. Hercules still was free. All that human strength could attempt to Mrs. Walden's behalf. Hercules would not fail to try. Just too, under cover of the night, it was not altogether improvable that the stalwart Negro would mingle with the crowd of Negroes. Amongst two, his dark skin would enable him to pass unnoticed, and make his way to Dick himself. Then might the two together elude the vigilance to the watch. Might they not follow after and overtake Mrs. Walden in the forest? Would they not perchance be able to either, by stealth or by force, to liberate her? And once free, they would effect the escape to the river, and finally accomplish the undertaking in which they had been so lamentably frustrated. Such were the sanguine visions in which Dick permitted himself to indulge. His temperament overcame all tendency to despair, and kept him alive to the faintest chance of deliverance. The next thing of importance was to ascertain the destination of the caravan. It was a matter of the most serious moment whether the convoy's slaves were going to be carried to one of the depots of Angola, or whether they were to be sent hundreds of miles into the interior of Yangwei, in the heart of the Great Lake District that Lewingston was then exploring. To reach the latter spot would occupy some months, and return thence to the coast, even if they should be fortunate enough to regain their liberty, would be a work of inseparable difficulty. He was not long left in suspense, although he could not understand the half-African, half-Arab dialect that was used by the leaders of the caravan. He noticed that the word Khazande occurred very frequently, and knowing it as the name of an important market in the province, he naturally concluded that it was there the slaves were to be disposed of, whether through the advantage of the King of the District, or of one of the rich traders, he had no means of telling, unless his geographical knowledge was at fault. He was aware that Khazande must be about four-hundred miles from S. Paul to Luanda, and consequently that it would hardly be more than two-hundred and fifty miles from the part of the Kwanzaa where they now were encamped. Under favorable circumstances it was a journey that could not be accomplished in less than twelve or fourteen days, but allowing for the retarded progress of a caravan already exhausted by the length in March, Dick was convinced that they could not reach the place for at least three weeks. He was most anxious to communicate through his companions and adversity, his impression that they would not be carried into the heart of the country, and began to cogitate, whether some plan could not be devised for exchanging a few words with them. Fort together, as it has been said, two and two, the four nagers were at the right-hand extremity of the camp, bat attached to his father, Austin to Achtian, a havaldhar where twelve soldiers formed their guard, Dick at first was about fifty yards away from the group, but being left free to move about, Contra gradually to diminish the distance between himself and them. Tom seemed to apprehend his intention, and whispered a word to his companions that they should be on the lookout. Without moving they were all on their guard in a moment. Dick, careful to conceal his design, strolled backwards with a feigned indifference, and succeeded in getting so near that he might have called out and informed Tom that they were going to Kazande, but he was desirous of accomplishing more than this. He wanted to get an opportunity of having some conversation as to their future plans, and he ventured to approach still nearer. His heart beat high as he believed he was on the point of attaining his object, when all at once the havaldhar, becoming aware of his design, rushed upon him like a man-man, summoned some soldiers, and with considerable violence sent him back to the front. Tom and the others were quickly removed to another part of the encampment. Exasperated by the rough attack that was made upon him, Dick had seized the havaldhar's gun and broken it, almost wrenching it from his hands, when several soldiers simultaneously assailed him, and would have struck him down and killed him upon the spot, had not one of the chiefs, an Arab of huge stature and ferocious countenance, interfered to stop them. This Arab was the Ibn Hamish of whom Harrison spoke into Nagora. He said a few words which Dick could not understand, and the soldiers, with manifest reluctance, relaxed their hold and retired. It was evident that although Dick was not to be permitted to hold any communication with the rest of his party, orders had been given that his life was to be protected. It was now nine o'clock, and the beating of drums and the blowing of kudu horns gave the signal that the morning march was to be continued. Instantly chiefs, soldiers, porters, and slaves were upon their feet, and arranged themselves in their various groups with a havaldhar bearing a bright-colored banner at their head. The order was given, the start was made. A strange song was heard rising in the air. It was a song, not of the victors, but of the vanquish. The slaves were chanting an implication on their oppressors, and the burden of the chorus was that captured, tortured slain. After death they would return and avenge their wrongs upon their murderers. CHAPTER VIII DICK SANS THE BOY CAPTAIN THE STORM OF THE PROCEDING EVING HAD NOW PASSED AWAY, BUT THE SKY was still cloudy, and the weather far from settled. It was the nineteenth of April, the time of the masika, or second period of the rainy season, so that for the next two or three weeks the nights might be expected to be wet. I'll leave you in the banks of the Kwanzaa, the caravan preceded due east. Soldiers marched at the head and in the rear, as well as upon the flanks of the troop. An escape of the prisoners, therefore, even if they had not been loaded with their fetters, would have been utterly impossible. They were all driven along without any attempted order. The havaldars using their whips unsparingly upon them whenever they showed signs of flagging. Some poor mothers could be seen carrying two infants, one on each arm, whilst others led by the hand naked children, whose feet were sorely cut by the rough ground over which they had trod. Ibn Hamish, the Arab, who had interfered between Dick and the havaldars, acted as commander to the caravan, and was here, there, and everywhere, not moved in the least by the sufferings of the captives, but obliged to be attentive to the importunities of the soldiers and porters, who were perpetually clamoring for extra rations, or demanding an immediate halt. Loud were the discussions that arose, and the uproar became positively deafening when the chorus and voices rose above the shrieks of the slaves, many of whom found themselves treading upon soil already stained by the blood of the ranks in front. No chance again opened for Dick to get any communication with his friends, who had been sent to the van of the procession. Urged on by the whips, they continued to march in single file, their heads in the heavy forks. If ever the havaldars strolled a few yards away, that took the opportunity of remembering a few words of encouragement to his poor old father, while he tried to pick out the easiest path for him, and to relax the pace to suit his enfeebled limbs. Large tears rolled down old Tom's cheeks when he found that his son's efforts only resulted in bringing down upon his back some sharp cuts of the havaldars' whip. Actaeon and Austen, subject to hardly less brutality, followed a few steps behind, but all four could not help feeling envious at the luck of Hercules. He might have dangers to encounter, but at least had his liberty. Immediately upon their capture, Tom had revealed to his companions the fact that they were now in Africa, and informed them how they had been betrayed by Harris, and made them understand that they had no mercy to expect. Old Nan had been placed among a group of women in the central ranks. She was chained to a young mother with two children, the one of the breast, the other only three years old, and scarcely able to walk. Moved by giving cash in, Nan took the little one into her own arms, thus only saving it from fatigue, but from the blows it would very likely have received from lagging behind. The mother shed tears of gratitude, but the weight was almost too much for Nan's strength, and she felt as if she must break down under her self-imposed burden. She thought fondly a little jack, and imagining him born along in the arms of his worry mother could not help asking herself whether she should ever see him or her kind mistress again. Far in the rear, Dick could not be seen ahead of the caravan, except occasionally, when the ground was rather on the rise. The voices of the agents and drivers, harsh and excited as they were, scarcely roused in from his melancholy reflections. His thoughts were not of himself, nor of his own sufferings. His sole attention was absorbed in looking for some traces of Mrs. Weldon's progress. If she too was being taken to Kazonde, her root must also lie this way. But he could discover no trace of her having been conducted by this line of march, and could only hope that she was being spared the cruelties which he was himself witnessing. The forest extended for about twenty miles to the east of the Kwanzaa, but whether it was that the trees had been destroyed by the ravages of insects, or broken down before they had made their growth by being trampled on by elephants, they were growing much less thickly than in the immediate vicinity of the river. There were numbers of cotton trees, seven or eight feet high, from which are manufactured the black and white striped stuffs that are worn in the interior of the province, but upon the whole progress was not much impeded either by shrubs or underwood. Occasionally the caravan plunged into jungles of reeds like bamboo's. Their stalks and inching diameter, so tall that only an edifluent or giraffe could have reared above them, and through which none, excepting such as had a very intimate knowledge of the country, could possibly have made their way. Starting every morning at daybreak, they marched till noon, when an hour's halt was made. Packets of manioc, where they unfastened, undold out in sparing quantities among the slaves. Sometimes when the soldiers had plundered some village, a little goat's flesh or some sweet potatoes were added to the meal, but gently the fatigue, aggravated by inadequate rest, took away the appetite, and when meal time arrived many of the slaves could hardly eat at all. During the first eight days marched from the Kwanzaa, no less than twenty unfortunate wretches had fallen upon the road, and had been left behind, a parade of the lions, panthers, and leopards that prowled in the wake. As Dick heard their roars in the stillness of the village, he trembled as he thought of Hercules. Nevertheless, had the opportunity offered itself, he would not for a moment have hesitated in making his own escape to the wilderness. The two hundred and fifty miles between the river and Kazandir were accomplished in what the traders called marches of ten miles each, including the halts at night and midday. The journey cannot be better described than by a few rough notes that Dick Sands made upon his way. April twenty-fifth saw a village surrounded with bamboo palisading, eight or nine feet high. Fields round, planted with maize, beans, sorghum. Two negroes captured, fifteen killed. Rest took to flight. Twenty-sixth. Across a torren, one hundred and fifty yards wide. Bridge formed of trunks of trees and creepers. Piles nearly gave way. Two women fastened to a fork. One of them carrying a baby fell into the water. Water quickly tinged with blood. Crocodiles seen under bridge, risk of stepping into their very jaws. Twenty-eighth. Across the forest of Bahineas. Great trees, the iron wood of the Portuguese. Heavy rain, ground sodden, marching difficult. Caught sight of Nan in the middle of the caravan. She was tolling along with a black child in her arms. The woman with her limping, and blood trickling from her shoulder. Twenty-ninth. Camp at night under a huge pile of ab. With white flowers and light green leaves. Lines and lepers roaring all night. A soldier fired at a panther. What has become of Hercules? Thirty-th. Rainy season set to be over till November. First touch of African winter. Dew very heavy. Plains all flooded. Easterly winds. Difficulty of respiration. Susceptibility to fever. No trace of Mrs. Walden cannot tell whether she is ahead. Fair Jack may have a return of fever. May fifth. Forced to march several stages across flooded plains. Water up to the waist. Many leeches sticking to the skin. Lotus and papyrus upon high ground. Great heavy leaves like cabbages beneath the water. Make many stumble as they walk. Saw large numbers of little fish. Cellura species. These are caught by the natives and sold to the caravans. Seventh. Plains still inundated. Last night no halting place to be found. Marched on through the darkness. Great misery. Except for Mrs. Walden. Life not worth having. For her sake must hold out. Loud cries heard. Saw by the lightning soldiers breaking large boughs from the resinous trees that emerged from the water. The caravan had been attacked on the flank by a dozen or more crocodiles. Women and children seized and carried off to what Livingston calls their pasturelands. The holds where they deposited their prey until it was decomposed. Myself grazed by the scales of one of them. A slave close beside me torn out of the fork, which was snapped in half. How the poor fellow's cry of agony rings in my ear. This morning twenty missing. Tom and the others, thank God, are still alive. They are on the front. Once Bat made a sharp turn and Tom caught sight of me. Nothing to be seen of Nan. Before she, poor creature, one of those that the crocodiles had got. Eighth. After twenty-four hours in the water, we have crossed the plain. We have halted on a hill. The sun helps to dry us. Nothing to eat except a little manioc and a few handfuls of maize. Only muddy water to drink. Impossible for Mrs. Walden to survive these hardships. I hope for my heart that she has been taken to some other way. Smallpox has broken out of the caravan. Those that have it are to be left behind. Ninth. Started at dawn. No straggler's allowed. Sick and weary must be kept together by Havaldar's whips. The losses were considerable. Living skeletons all round. Rejoice once more to catch sight of Nan. She was not carrying the child any longer. She was alone. The chain was around her waist, but she had the loose end thrown over her shoulder. I got close to her. Suppose I am altered, as she did not know me. After I had called her by name, several times she stared at me, and at last said, Mr. Dick, is it you? You will not see me here much longer. Her cadaverous look pained my very soul, but I tried to speak hopefully. Poor Nan shook her head. I shall never see my dear mistress again. No, nor Master Jack. I shall soon die. Anxious to help her, I would gladly have carried the end of the chain which she had been obliged to bear, because her fellow prisoner was dead. A rough hand was soon upon my shoulder. A cruel lash had made Nan retreat to the general crowd, whilst at the bidding of an Arab chief I was hustled back to the very high and most rank of the procession. I overheard the word, Nogoro, in a way that convinced me that it is under the direction of the Portuguese that I am subject to this heart indignity. 11. Last night encamped under some large trees on the skirts of a forest. Several escaped prisoners recaptured. Their punishment barbarously cruel. Loud roaring of lions and hagginess heard at nightfall. Also snorting of hippopotamuses. Probably some lake or watercourse not far off. Tired but could not sleep, heard a rustling in the grass, felt sure that something was going to attack me. What could I do? I had no gun. For Mrs. Vauden's sake, must, if possible, preserve my life. The night was dark, no moon, two eyes gleamed upon me. I was about to utter a cry of alarm. Fortunately I suppressed it. The creature that had sprung to my feet was Dingo. The dog licked my hands, all over, persisting and rubbing his neck against them, evidently to make me feel there. Found a reed fastened to the well-known collar upon which the initials S.V. had so often awakened our curiosity. When I opened the reed I took a note from inside. It was too dark for me to see to read it. I tried by caressing Dingo to detain him, but the dog appeared to know that his mission with me was at an end. He licked my hands affectionately, made a sudden bound, and disappeared in the long grass as mysteriously as he had come. The howling of the wild beasts increased. How I dreaded that the faithful creature would become their prey. No more sleep this night for me. It seemed that daylight would never dawn. A lengthy brook with the suddenness that marks the tropical mourn. I was able cautiously to read my note. The handwriting I knew at a glance was that of Hercules. There were but a few lines in pencil. Mrs. Watter and Jack carried away in a Katanda. Harrison and Agoro both with them. Mr. Benedict, too, only a few marches ahead, but cannot be communicated with at present. Found Dingo wounded by a gunshot. Dear Mr. Dick, do not despair. Keep up your courage. I may help you yet. You are ever a true and faithful Hercules. As far as it went, this intelligence was satisfactory. A Katanda, I know, is a kind of litter made of dry grass, protected by a curtain, and carried on the shoulders of two men by a long bamboo. What a relief to know that Mrs. Watter and Jack have been spared the miseries of this dreadful march. May I not indulge the hope of seeing them at Kazande. Twelfth, the prisoners getting more and more weary and worn out. Blood stains on the way are still more conspicuous. Many poor riches are a mass of wounds. One poor woman for two days has carried her dead child, from which she refuses to be parted. Sixteenth, smallpox raging, the road stream with corpses, still ten days before we reach Kazande, just past the tree from which slaves who had died from hunger were hanging by the neck. Eighteenth, must not give in, but I am almost exhausted. Reigns have ceased. We are to make what the dealers call triquesa, extra marches in the after part of the day. Road very steep, runs through Nyasi, tall grass of which the stalks scratch my face, and the seas get under my tattered clothes and make my skin smart painfully. My boots fortunately are thick, and I am not worn out. More slaves sick and abandoned to take their chance. Previsions running very short. Soldiers and pagazes must be satisfied, otherwise they desert. Consequently the slaves are all but starved. They can eat each other, say the agents. A young slave, apparently in good health, dropped down dead. It made me think of Livingston's description of how free-born men, reduced to slavery, would suddenly oppress their hand on their side and die of a broken heart. Twenty-fourth, twenty captives incapable any longer of keeping pace with the rest, put to death by the hable-dars, the Arab chief offering no opposition. Poor old Nan, one of the victims of this horrible butchery. My foot struck her corpse as I passed, but I was not permitted to give her a decent burial. Poor old Nan, the first of the survivors of the pilgrim, to go to her long rest. Poor old Nan. Every night I watch Fidingo, but he never comes. Has Hercules nothing more to communicate, or has any mishap but fallen him? If he is alive he will do what mortal strength can do to aid us. As on day the number of the slaves had diminished by more than half. So numerous had been the casualties along the road. But the dealers were quite prepared to make a mark on their loss. The demand for slaves was very great, and the price must be raised accordingly. Angola at what time was the scene of a large nuclear traffic, and as the caravans principally went at their way towards the interior, the Portuguese authorities at Luanda and Benguela had practically no power to prevent it. The barracks on the shore were crowded but to overflowing with prisoners. The few slave ships that managed to elude the cruisers, being quite inadequate to embark the whole number of the Spanish colonies to America. Cazande, the point whence the caravans diverged to the various parts of the Lake District, is situated three miles from the mouth of the Kwanzaa, and is one of the most important Laconis, or markets of the province. The open market place, where the slaves are exposed for sale, is called the Chitoka. All the larger towns of Central Africa are divided into two distinct parts, one occupied by the Arab, Portuguese, or native merchants, and containing their slave barracks, the other being the residents of the Negro king. Often a fierce drunk potentate whose rule is a reign of terror, and who lives by subsidies allowed him by the traitors. The commercial quarter of Cazande now belonged to José Antonio Alves. It was his largest depot, although he had another at Bihé, and a third at Casangue, where Camarines subsequently met him. It consisted of one long street, on each side of which were groups of flat-roofed houses called Tembes, built of rough earth, and provided with square yards for cattle. The end of it opened into the Chitoka, which was surrounded by the barracks. Above the houses some fine banyan trees waved their branches, surmounted here and there by the crests of graceful palms. There was a lease to score birds of prey that hovered about the streets, and came down to perform the office of public scavengers. At no great distance flowed the Luhi, a river not yet explored, but which is supposed to be an affluent or sub-affluent of the Congo. Joining the commercial quarter was the royal residence, nothing more nor less than a collection of dirty huts, extending over an area of nearly a square mile. Some of these huts were un-enclosed, others were surrounded by a palisade of reeds or by a hedge of bushy figs. In an enclosure within a papyrus fence were about thirty huts appropriated to the king's slaves, another group for his wives and in the middle, almost hidden by a plantation of manioc at Timbe, larger and loftier than the rest, the abode of the Monarch himself. He had sorely declined from the dignity and importance of his predecessors, and his army, which by the early Portuguese traders had been estimated at twenty thousand, now numbered less than four thousand men, no longer could he afford, as in the good old time, to order a sacrifice of twenty-five or thirty slaves at one offering. His name was Moine Lunga. Little over fifty he was prematurely aged by drink and debauchery, and was scarcely better than a maniac. His subjects, officers, and ministers were all liable to be mutilated at his pleasure, and noses and ears, feet and hands, were cut off unsparingly, whenever his caprice so wielded. His death would have been a cause of regret to no one, with the exception perhaps of Alves, who was on very good terms with him. Alves, more of a freer than in the event of the present king's death, the succession of his chief wife, Queen Moine, might be disputed, and that his dominions will be invaded by a younger and more active neighbour, one of the kings of Okusu, who had already seized upon some villages dependent on the government of Kazande, and who was in alliance with a rival trader named Tipo Tipo, a man of pure Arab extraction, from whom Karen afterwards received a visit at Nyangwe. To all intents and purposes, Alves was the real sovereign of the district, having fostered the vices of the brutalized king till he had come completely in his power. He was a man who could superlatively advance in his years. He was not, as his name might imply, a white man, but had merely assumed his Portuguese title for purposes of business. His true name was Kendele, and he was a pure Negro by birth, being a native of Dondo on the Kwanzaa. He had commenced life as a slave dealer's agent, and was now on his weighted wards becoming a first-class trader. That is to say, he was a consummate rascal under the guise of an honest man. He, it was whom Cameron met at the end of 1874 at Kilimba, the capital of Orua, of which Casongo is chief, and with whose caravan he travelled to Bihé, a distance of seven hundred miles. It was midday when the caravan entered Kazande. The journey from the Kwanzaa had lasted thirty-eight days, more than five weeks of misery as great as was within human power to endure. Since the noise of drums and kudu-horns, the slaves were conducted to the marketplace. The soldiers of the caravan discharged their guns in the air, and Aldo Alves's resident Rednu responded with a similar salute. The bandits, then which the soldiers were nothing better, were delighted to meet again and would celebrate their return and buy their season of riot and excess. The slaves reduced to a total of about two hundred and fifty, where many of them almost died from exhaustion. The flukes were removed from their necks, though the chains were still retained, and the whole of them were driven into barracks that were unfit even for cattle. To await, in company with twelve hundred to fifteen hundred other captives already there, the great market which will be held two days hence. The Pagazes, after delivering their loads of ivory, would only stay to receive their payment of a few yards of calico or other stuff, and would then depart at once to join some other caravan. On being relieved from the forks which they had carried for so many weary days, Tom and his companions heartily rung each other's hands, where they could not venture to utter one word of mutual encouragement. The three younger men, more full of life and vigor, have resisted the effects of the fatigue, but poor old Tom was nearly exhausted, and had the march been protracted for a few more days he must have shared Nan's fate and been left behind, a prey to the wild beasts. Upon their arrival all four were packed into a narrow cell, where some food was provided, and the door was immediately locked upon them. The Chitoka was now almost deserted, and Dick Sands was left there under the special charge of a Havildar. He lost no opportunity of peering into every hut in the hope of catching a glimpse of Mrs. Walden, who, if Hercules had not misinformed him, had come on hither just in front. But he was very much perplexed. He could well understand that Mrs. Walden, if still a prisoner, would be kept out of sight, but why Nagora and Harris did not appear to triumph over him, and his humiliation was quite a mystery to him? It was likely enough that the presence of either one or the other of them would be the signal for himself to be exposed to fresh indignity, or even to torture, but Dick would have welcomed the sight of them at Kazande, which only as an indication that Mrs. Walden and Jack were there also. It disappointed him too that Dingo did not come back. Ever since the dog had brought him the first note, he had kept an answer written ready to send to Hercules, imploring him to look after Mrs. Walden and to keep him informed of everything. He began to fear that the fatal creature must be dead, perhaps perished in some attempt to reach himself. It was, however, quite possible that Hercules had taken the dog in some other direction, hoping to gain some depot in the interior. But so thoroughly had Dick persuaded himself that Mrs. Walden had preceded him to Kazande, that his disappointment became more and more keen when he failed to discover her. For a while he seemed to yield to despair, and sat down sorrowful and sick at heart. Suddenly a chorus of voices and trumpets broke upon his ear. He was startled at it taking in a new interest in what was going on. Alves! Alves! was the cry again and again, repeated by the crowd. Here then was the great man himself about to appear. Was it not likely that Harrison O'Goro might be with him? Dick stood erect and resolute, his eyes vivid with expectation. He felt all eagerness to stand face to face with his betrayers. Boy as he was, he was equal to cope with them both. The Katanda, which came inside at the end of the street, was nothing more than a kind of hammock covered by a faded and ragged curtain. An old negro stepped out of it. His attendance greeted him with noisy acclamations. This then was the great traitor, Jose Antonio Alves. Immediately following him was his friend Coimbra, son of the chief Coimbra of Pijé, and according to Cameron, the greatest blaggard in the province. This worn ally of Alves, this organizer of his slave raids, this commander, worthy of his own hoard or bandits, was utterly loathsome in his appearance. His flesh was filthy dirty, his eyes were bloodshot, his skin yellow, and his long hair all disheveled. He had no other attire than a tattered shirt, a tunic made of grass, and a battered straw hat, under which his countenance appeared like that of some old hag. Alves himself, whose clothes were like those of an old Turk the day after a carnival, was on a degree more respectable in appearance than a satellite, not that his looks spoke much for the very highest class of African slave-dealers. To Dick's great disappointment, neither Harris nor Nagora were among his revenue. Both Alves and Coimbra shook hands with Ivan Hamish, the leader of the caravan, and congratulated him on the success of the expedition. Alves made a grimace of being told that half the slaves had died on the way, but on the whole he seemed satisfied. He could meet the demand that at present existed, and would lose no time in bartering the new arrival for ivory or hanas, copper in the shape of a St. Andrew's cross, the form in which the metal is exported in central Africa. After complimenting the havaldards upon the way in which they had done their work, the trader gave orders that the porters should be paid and dismissed. The conversations were carried on in a mixture of Portuguese and native idioms, in which the African element abounded so largely that a native Elizabeth would have been at last to understand them. Dick, of course, could not comprehend what was said, and it was only when he saw a havaldard go towards the cell in which Tom and the others were confined, that he realized that the talk was about himself and his party. When the Negroes were brought out, Dick came close up, being anxious to learn as much as he could of what was in contemplation. The old trader's eyes seemed to brighten as he glanced upon the three strapping old men, who he knew would soon be restored to their full strength by rest and proper food. They at least would get a good price. As for poor old Tom, he was manifestly so broken down by infirmity and age that he would have no value in the market. And a few words of broken English, which Alves had picked up from some of his agents, he ironically gave them all a welcome. Back to see you, he said, with a diabolical grin. Tom knew what he meant, and drew himself up proudly. We are free men, he protested, free citizens of the United States. Yes, yes, replied Alves, grinning, you are Americans. Very glad to see you. Very glad to see you, echoed Coimbra. And walking up to Austin, he felt his chest and shoulders, and then proceeded to open his mouth in order to examine his teeth. A blow from Austin's powerful fist sent the satellite staggering backwards. Some soldiers made a dash and seized the onigro, evidently ready to make him pay dearly for his temerity, but Alves was by no means willing to have any injury done to his newly acquired property and called them off. He hardly attempted to conceal his movement at Coimbra's discomforter, although the blow had cost him one of his front teeth. After he recovered somewhat from the shock, Coimbra stood scowling at Austin as if mentally vowing vengeance on some future occasion. Dick Sands was now himself brought forward in the custody of a Havildar. It was clear that Alves had been told all about him, for after scanning him for a moment, he stammered out in his broken English. Ah, ah, the little Yankee! Yes, replied Dick. I see you know who I am. What are you going to do with me and my friends? Yankee, little Yankee, repeated the traitor, who either did not or would not comprehend the meaning of Dick's question. Dick turned to Coimbra and made the same inquire of him, in spite of his degraded features, now still farther disfigured by being swollen from the blow. It was easy to recognize that he was not of native origin. He refused to answer a word, and only shared again with the vicious glare of malevolence. Meanwhile Alves had begun to talk to Ibn Hamish. Dick felt sure that they intended to separate him from the Negroes, and accordingly took the opportunity of whispering a few words to them. My friends, I have heard from Hercules. Dingo brought me a note from him, tied around his neck. He says Harris and Nogoro have carried off Mrs. Walden, Jack, and Mr. Benedict. He did not know where. We have patience, and we will find them yet. And where is Nan, mother Tom, in a low voice? Dead replied Dick, and was about to add more when a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a voice that he knew too well exclaimed, Well, my young friend, how are you? I am glad to see you again. He turned round quickly. Harris stood before him. Where is Mrs. Walden? asked Dick impetuously. Ah, poor thing, asked Harris, with an air of deep commiseration. What? Is she dead? Dick almost shrieked. Where is her child? Poor little fellow, said Harris, in the same mournful tone. These insinuations, that those in whose welfare he was so deeply interested, had succumbed to the hardships of the journey, awoke in Dick's mind a sudden and irresistible desire for vengeance. Darting forwards, he seized the cutlass that Harris worn his belt, and plunged it into his heart. With a yell on a curse the American fell dead at his feet. End of Part II, Chapter 9, Recording by Alex C. Tillander, Davis, California, www.alexcitillander.com Part II, Chapter X, of Dick Sands the Boy Captain. This is the LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Alex C. Tillander, Davis, California. Dick Sands the Boy Captain, by Jules Verne. Translated by Ellen E. Fruer. Part II, Chapter X, Market Day So sudden was Dick's action, that it had been impossible to parry his blow. Several of the natives rushed on him, and all likelihood would have struck him down upon the spot, had not Nagora arrived at that very moment. At a sign from him the natives drew back, and proceeded to raise and carry away Harris's corpse. Alves and Coimbra were urgent in their demand that Dick should, forthwith, be punished by death. But Nagora whispered to them that they would all assuredly be the gainers by delay, and they accordingly contented themselves with ordering the youth to be placed under strict supervision. This was the first time that Dick had set eyes upon Nagora, since he had left the coast. Nevertheless, so heartbroken was he at the intelligence he had just received, that he did not deign to address a word to the man whom he knew to be the real author of all his misery. He cared not now what became of him. Still with chains he was placed in the dungeon where Alves was a customer-confined slave who had been condemned to death for mutiny or violence. That he had no communication with the outer world gave him no concern. He had avenged the death of those for whose safety he had felt himself responsible. I could now calmly await the fate which he could not doubt was in store for him. He did not dare to suppose that he had been temporarily spared otherwise than that he might suffer the cruelest torches that native ingenuity could devise. But the pilgrim's cook now held in his power the boy-captain he so thoroughly hated was warned enough that the sturdiest possible measure of vengeance would be exacted. Two days later the great market, the Laconi, commenced. Although many of the principal traders were there from the interior, it was by no means exclusively a slave-mart. A considerable proportion of the natives from the neighboring provinces assembled to dispose of the various products of the country. Quite early the great Chitoka of Kazonde was all alive with the bustling concourse of little under 5,000 people, including the slaves of old Alves, amongst whom were Tom and his three partners in adversity, an item by no means inconservable in the dilu stock. Accompanied by Coimbra, Alves himself was one of the first arrivals. He was going to sell his slaves and lots to be conveyed in caravans into the interior. The dilas for the most part consisted of half-breeds from Ujiji, the principal market of Lake Tanganyika, while some of the superior class were manifestly Arabs. The natives that were assembled were of both sexes and of every variety of age, the women in particular displaying an aptitude of making bargains that it shared by their sisters elsewhere of Lattahue, and it may be said that no market of the most civilized region could be characterized by greater excitement or an animation. For amongst the savages of Africa, the customer makes his offer in equally noisy terms as the vendor. The Laconi was always considered a kind of fit day. Consequently the natives of both sexes, though their clariling was scanty in extent, made a point of appearing in a most lavish display of ornaments. Their headgear was most remarkable. The men had their hair arranged in every variety of eccentric device. Some have it divided into four parts, rolled of cushions and fastened into a shinyong, or mounted in front into a bunch of tails adorned with red feathers. Others plastered it thickly with a mixture of red mud and oil, similar to that used by greasing machinery, and formed it into cones or lumps into which they inserted a medley of iron pins and ivory skewers, whilst the greatest dandies had a glass bead threaded upon every single hair, the hole being fastened together by a tattooing knife driven through the glittering mass. As a general rural, the women prefer dressing their hair in little tufts about the size of a cherry, arranging it into the shape of a cap with corkscrew ringlets on each side of the face. Some wore assembly hanging down their backs, others in French fashion with a fringe across the forehead, but every coiffure, without exception, was dobbed and caked either with a mixture of mud and grease or with a bright red extract of sandalwood called encola. But it was not only their heads that they made this extraordinary display of ornaments. The lobes of their ears were loaded till they reached their shoulders with a profusion of wooden pegs, openwork copper rings, grains of maize, or little gourds, which served the purpose of snuff boxes. Their necks, arms, wrists, legs, and ankles were a perfect mass of brass and copper rings, or sometimes recovered with a lot of bright buttons. Rows of red beads, called samesames, or talakas, seemed also very popular. As they had no pockets, they attached their knives, pipes, and other articles to various parts of their body, so that altogether, in their holiday attire, the rich men in the district might not inappropriately be compared to walking shrines. With their teeth they had all played the strangest of vagaries. The upper and lower insides had generally been extracted, and the others had been filed to points or carded at hooks, like the fangs of a rattlesnake. Their fingernails were allowed to grow to such an immoderate length as to render their hands well-nigh useless, and their swarthy skins were tattooed with figures of trees, birds, crescents, and discs, or not infrequently, with those zigzag lines which Livingston thinks he recognizes as resembling those observed in ancient Egyptian drawings. A tattooing is affected by means of a blue substance inserted into incisions previously made in the skin. Every child is tattooed in precisely the same pattern as his father bore before him, and thus it may always be ascertained to what family he belongs. Instead of carrying his all-moral bearings upon his plate or upon the panels of his carriage, the African magnate wears an emblazoned on his own bosom. The garments that were usually worn were simply aprons of antelope skins descending to the knees, but occasionally a short petticoat might be seen made of woven grass and dyed with bright colors. The ladies not infrequently wore girdles of beads attached to green skirts embroidered with silk and ornamented with bits of glass or cowries, or sometimes the skirts were made of the grass cloth called lamda, which in blue, yellow, or black is so much valued by the people of Anzanzibar. Garments of these pretensions, however, always indicated that the wearers belonged to the upper classes. The lower orders, such as the smaller dealers, as well as the slaves, heard hardly any clothes at all. The women commonly acted as porters, and arrived at the market with huge baskets on their backs, which they secured by means of straps passed across the forehead. Having deposited their loads upon the chitoka, they turned out their goods, and then seated themselves inside the empty baskets. As a result of the extreme fertility of the country, all the articles offered for sale were of a first-rate quality. There were large stores of rice, which had been grown at a profit a hundred times as great as the cost, and maize, which, producing three crops in eight months, yielded a profit as large again as the rice. There were also sesame, urua pepper stronger than cayenne, manioc, nutmegs, salt, and palm oil. And the market, too, were hundreds of goats, pigs, and sheep, evidently of a tartar breed, with hair instead of wool, and there was a good supply of fish and poultry. Besides all these, there was an attractive display of brightly colored pottery, the designs of which were very symmetrical. In shrill, squeaky voices, children were crying for several varieties of native drinks, banana wine, pombe, which, whatever it was, seemed to be in great demand. Malofu, a kind of beer, compounded of bananas and mead, a mixture of honey and water, fermented with malt. But the most prominent feature in the whole market was the traffic in stuffs and ivory. The pieces could be counted by thousands of the amblees from Cricani, from Salem and Massachusetts, of the blue cotton, caniki, 34 inches wide, and of the checkered Sahari, blue and black, with its scarlet border. More expensive than these were the lots of silk duulies, with red, green, or yellow grounds, which are sold in lengths of three yards, at prices varying from $7 to $80, when they are interwoven with gold. The ivory had come from Welnai, every part of Central Africa, and was destined for Khartoum, Zanzibar, and Natal, many of the merchants dealing in this commodity exclusively. How vast a number of elephants must be slaughtered to supply this ivory? Maybe imagine when it is remembered that over 200 tons, that is 1,125,000 pounds, are exported annually to Europe. Of this, much the larger share goes to England, where the Sheffield cutlery consumes about 382,500 pounds. From the west coast of Africa alone, the produce is nearly 140 tons. The average weight of a pair of tusks is 28 pounds, and the ordinary value of these in 1874 would be about 60. But here in Kazande was some weighing no less than 165 pounds, of that soft, translucent quality which retrains its whiteness far better than the ivory from other sources. As already mentioned, slaves are not unfrequently used as current money amongst the African traders, but the natives themselves usually pay for their goods with Venetian glass beads, in which the chalk white are called kachakolos, the black bubulus, and the red secundereches. Strong in timbros orquetes, these beads are twisted twice around the neck, forming what is called a fundo, which is always a reckoned of considerable value. The usual measure by which they are sold is the frasila, containing a weight of about 70 pounds. Livingston, Cameron, and Stanley always took care to be well provided with this kind of currency. In default of beads, the pise, a zanzibar coin, worth something more than a farthing, and a viun goas, shells peculiar to the east coast, are recognized as a medium of exchange in the market. Amongst the cannibals, tribes, a certain valley was attached to human teeth, and at the Lacones some natives might be seen wearing strings of teeth, the owner of which they had probably at some previous time devoured. This species of currency, however, was falling rapidly into disuse. Towards the middle of the day, the excitement of the market reached its highest pitch, and the uproar became perfectly deafening. The voices of the eager sellers mingled with those of indignant and overcharged customers. Fights were numerous, and as there was an utter absence of any kind of police, no effort was made to restore peace or order amongst the unreleased crowd. It was just noon when Alves gave orders that the slaves he wished to dispose of should be placed on view. Thereupon, a little two thousand unfortunates were brought forward, many of whom had been confined in the dealer's barracks for several months. Most of the stock, however, had been so carefully attended to that they were in good condition, and it was only the last batch that looked as if they would be improved by another month's rest. But as the demand upon the east coast was now very large, Alves hoped to get a good price for all, and a determined to part with even the last arrivals for whatever sum he could obtain. Amongst these latter, whom the havalodoras drove like a herd of cattle into the middle of the Chautauca, were Tom and his three friends. They were closely chained, and rage and shame were depicted in their countenances. Bat passed a quick and scrutinizing gaze around him, and said to the others, I did not see Mr. Dick. Tom answered mournfully, Mr. Dick will be killed, if he is not already. Our only hope is that we may now all be bought in one lot. It will be a consolation to us if we can all be together. Tears rose to Bat's eyes as he thought of how his poor old father was likely to be sold, and carried away to wear out his days as a common slave. The sale now commenced. The agents of al-ez proceeded to divide the slaves, men, women, and children, into lots, treating them in no respect better than prey, beasts, and a cattle market. Tom and the others were formated about, firm from customer to customer, an agent accompanying them to proclaim the price demanded. Strong, intelligent-looking Americans, quite different to the miserable creatures brought from the banks of the Zambezi or Luallava, they had once attracted the observation of the Arab and half-breed dealers. Just as though they were examining a horse, the buyers felt their limbs, turned them round and round, looked at their teeth, and finally tested their paces by throwing a stake to a distance and making them rent a fetchet. All the slaves were subjected to similar humiliations, and all alike, except the very young children, seemed deeply sensible of their degradation. The cruelty exhibited towards them was very vile. Khorimbra, who was half-drunk, treated them with the utmost brutality, not that they had any reason to expect any gentler dealings at the hands of the new masters who might purchase them for ivory or any other commodity. Children were torn away from their parents, husbands from their wives, brothers from sisters, and without even the indulgence of a parting word were separated never to meet again. The scenes that occur at such markets as this at Kazande are too heart-rendering to be described in detail. It is one of the peculiar requirements of the slave trade that the two sexes should have an entirely different destination. In fact, the dealers who purchased men never purchased women. The women who are required to supply the Muslim unharams assert principally to Arab districts to be exchanged for ivory, whilst the men who are to be put to hard labor are dispatched to the coast, east and west, once they are exported to Spanish colonies or to the markets of Muscat or Madagascar. Detominate friends the prospect of being transported to a slave colony was far better than that of being retained in some central African province, where they could have no chance of degrading their liberty, and the moment to them was accordingly one of great suspense. Altogether things turned out for them better than they dared anticipate. They had at least the satisfaction of finding that as yet they were not to be separated. Alves, of course, had taken good care to conceal the origin of this exceptional lot, and their own ignorance of the language thoroughly prevented them from communicating it. But the anxiety to secure a so valuable a property rented the competition for it very keen. The bidding rose higher and higher, until it lent the four men were knocked down to a rich Arab dealer who proposed, in the course of a few days, to take them to Lake Taganyika, and thence to one of the depots of Zanzibar. This journey, it is true, would be for fifteen hundred miles across the most unhealthy parts of Central Africa, through districts harassed by internal wars, and it seemed improbable that Tom could survive the hardships he was meet. Like poor old Nan he would succumb to fatigue, but the brave fellows did not suffer themselves to fear their future. They were only too happy to be still together, and the chain that bound them one to the other was felt to be easier and lighter to bear. Their new master knew that it was for his own interest that his purchase would be well taken care of. He looked to make a substantial profit at Zanzibar, and set them off at once to his own private barracks, consequently so no more of what transpired at Kazande. Part II. XI. The afternoon was passing away, and it was now four o'clock when the sound of drums, cymbals, and a variety of native instruments was heard at the end of the main thoroughfare. The market was still going on with the same animation as before. Half a day of screeching and fighting seemed neither to have weary the voices nor broken the limbs of the demoniacal traffickers. There was a considerable number of slaves still to be disposed of, and the dealers were haggling over the remaining lots with an excitement of which a sudden panic on the linen stock exchange could give a very inadequate conception. But the discordant concert which suddenly broke upon the ear was a signal for business to be at once suspended. The crowd might cease its uproar and recover its breath. The king of Kazande, Moene Lunga, was about to honor the Laconi with his visit. Attended by a large revenue of wise officers, soldiers, and slaves, the monarch was conveyed to the middle of the marketplace in an old palanquin, from which he was obliged to have five or six people to help him to descend. Alves and the other traders advanced to meet him with the most exaggerated gestures of reverence, all of which he received as his rifle homage. He was a man of fifty years of age, but might easily have passed for eighty. He looked like an old decrepit monkey. On his head was a kind of tiara, adorned with the leopard's claws, dyed red and tufts of grayish white hair. This was the usual crown of the Sovereigns of Kazande. From his waist hung two skirts of kudu-hide, stiff as blacksmith's aprons, and embroidered with pearls. The tattooings on his breast were so numerous that his pedigree, which they declared, might seem to reach back to time immemorial. His wrists and arms were encased in copper bracelets, thickly encrusted with beads. He wore a pair of top boots, a present from Alves some twenty years ago. In his left hand he carried a great stick, some mounted by a silver knob. In his right a fly-flapper, with a handle studded with pearls. Over his head was carried an old umbrella, with as many patches as a harlequin's coat, while from his neck hung cousin Benedict's magnifying glass, and on his nose were the spectacles which had been stolen from Bat's pocket. Such was the appearance of the potent tape beneath whose sway the country trembled for a hundred miles around. By virtue of his sovereignty Moane Lunga claimed to be of celestial origin, and any subject who should have the audacity to raise a question on this point would have been dispatched forthwith to another world. All his actions, his eating and drinking, were supposed to be performed by divine impulse. He certainly drank like no other mortal. His officers and ministers, conferred tiplets as they were, appeared silver men in comparison with himself, and they seemed never to be doing anything but imbibing strong pombe, an over-proofed spirit with which Alva's kept in liberally supplied. In his hair Moane Lunga had wives of all ages, from 40 to 14, most of whom accompanied him on his visit to the Laconi. Moana, the chief wife, who was called the Queen, was the eldest of them all, and like the rest was of royal blood. She was a vixenish-looking woman, very gaily attired. She wore a kind of bright tartan over a skirt of woven grass, and bordered with pearls. On her throat was a profusion of necklaces, and her hair was mounted up in tears that toppled high above her head, making her resemble some hideous monster. The younger wives, all of them sisters or cousins of the King, were less elaborately dressed. They walked behind her, ready at the slightest sign of a fore in the most menial services. They just managed to sit down, two of them would immediately stoop to the ground and form a seat with their bodies, whilst others would have to lie down and support his feet upon their backs, a throne and footstool of living ebony. Amidst the staggering half-tipsy crowd of ministers, officers and magicians that composed Moenilunga's suite, there was hardly a man to be seen who had not lost either an eye, an ear, or hand or nose. Death and mutilation were the only two punishments practicing Kazande, and the slightest offense involved the instant amputation of some member of the body. The loss of the ear was considered the severest penalty, as it prevented the possibility of wearing earrings. The governors of districts or kilolos, whether hereditary or appointed for four years, were distinguished by red waistcoats and zebra-skin caps. In their hands they brandished long maritans, coated at one extremity with a varnish of magic drugs. The weapons carried by the soldiers consisted of wooden bows, adorned with fringes, and provided with a spare broast string. Knives filed into the shape of serpents' tongues, long, broad lances, and shields of palm wood, ornamented with arabesques. In the matter of uniform the royal army had no demands to make upon the royal treasury. Next to the attendance of the king there was a considerable number of sorcerers and musicians. The sorcerers, or nganga, were practically the physicians of the court, the savages having the most implicit faith and divinations and incantations of every kind, and employing fetishes, clay or wooden figures, representing sometimes ordinary human beings and sometimes fantastic animals. Like the rest of the retinue these magicians were, for the most part, more or less mutilated, an indication that some of their prescriptions on behalf of the king had failed of success. The musicians were of both sexes, some performing on shrill rattles, some on huge drums, whilst others played on instruments called marimbas, a kind of dulcimer made of two rows of different sized gourds, fastened in a frame, and struck by sticks with india rubber bells at the end. To any but native ears the music was perfectly deafening. Several flags and banners were carried in the possession, and amongst these was mixed up a number of long pikes, upon which were stuck the skulls of the various chiefs that Moine Lunga had conquered in battle. As the king was helped out of his palanquin the acclamations rose higher and higher from every quarter of the market place. The soldiers attached to the caravans fired off their old guns, though the reports were almost too feeble to be heard above the noisy vociferations of the crowd, and the havaldars rubbed their black noses with cinnabar powder, which they carried in bags and prostrated themselves. Alves advanced and presented the king with some fresh tobacco, the appeasing herb as it is called in the native dialect, and certainly Moine Lunga seemed to require some appeasing, as for some unreason he was in a thoroughly bad temper. Coimbra, even Hamish, and the dealers all came forward to pay their court to the monarch. The Arabs greeting him with the cry of Mahabba, all welcome. Others clapped their hands and bowed to the very ground, while some even smeared themselves with mud, in token of their most servile subjection, but Moine Lunga scarcely took notice of any of them. He went staggering along, rolling like a ship upon a stormy sea, and made his way past the crowds of slaves, each of whom, no less than their masters, trembled lest he should think fit to claim them for his own. Nagoro, who kept close at Alves's side, did not fail to render his homage along with the rest. Alves and the king were carrying on a conversation in the native language, if that could be called a conversation, in which Moine Lunga merely jerked out a few monosyllables from his inflamed and swollen lips. He was asking Alves to replenish his stock of brandy. We are proud to welcome your majesty at the market of Kazande, Alves was saying. Get me brandy, was all the drunken king's reply. Would it please your majesty to take part in the business of the Lakoni? Alves tried to ask. Drink! blurted out the king impatiently. Alves continued. My friend Nagoro here is anxious to greet your majesty after his long absence. Drink! roared the monarch again. Will the king take pombe or mead? asked Alves at last oblige to take notice of the demand. Brandy, give me fire water, yelled the king in a fury, for every drop you shall have. A drop of a white man's blood, suggested Nagoro, glancing at Alves. Yes, yes, kill a white man, assented Moine Lunga. Its ferocious instincts all aroused by the proposition. There is a white man here, said Alves, who has killed my agent. He must be punished for his act. Send him to king Masongo, cried the king. Masongo and the Ossoas will cut him up and eat him alive. Only two truths that cannibalism is still openly practiced in certain provinces of Central Africa. Minstern records that the Manuemas not only eat men killed in war but even buy slaves for that purpose. It is said to be the avowal of these Manuemas that human flesh is slightly salty and requires no seasoning. Camera relates how in the dominions of Moine Buga dead bodies were soaked for a few days in running water as a preparation for their being devoured, and Stanley found traces of a widely spread cannibalism amongst the inhabitants of Okusu. But however horrible might be the manner of death proposed by Nuenolunga. It did not at all suit Nogoro's purpose to let dick sands out of his clutches. The white man is here, he said to the king. It is here he has committed his offense, and here he should be punished. If you will, replied Moone Lunga. Only I must have fire-water, a drink of fire-water for every drop of the white man's blood. Yes, you shall have the fire-water, assented Alves. And what is more, you shall have it all alight. We will give your majesty a bowl of blazing punch. The thought had struck Alves. He was himself delighted with the idea that he would set the spirit in flames. Moine Lunga had complained that the fire-water did not justify his name as it ought, and Alves hoped that perhaps, administered in this new form, it might purify the dead and membranes of the pallet of the king. Moine Lunga did not conceal his satisfaction. Wives and courtiers alike were full of anticipation. They had all drunk brandy, but they had not drunk brandy alight. And not only were their thirst for alcohol to be satisfied, their thirst for blood was lacklust to be indulged, and one is remembered how, even amongst the civilized, drunkenness reduces a man below the level of a brute, and may be imagined to what barbarous cruelty as Dick Sands was likely to be exposed. The idea of torturing a white man was not altogether repugnant to the colored blood of either Alves or Coimbra, while with Nagoro the spirit of vengeance had completely overpowered all feeling of compunction. Night, without any revealing twilight, was soon drawing on, and the contemplated display could thoroughly fail to be effective. The program for the evening consisted of two parts. First, the blazing punch-bowl, then the torture, culminating in an execution. The destined victim was still closely confined in his dark and dreary dungeon. All the slaves, whether sold or not, had been driven back to the barracks, and the Chihoka was clearly of every one except the slave-dealers, the havaldars and the soldiers who hoped by favor of the king to have a share of the flaming punch. Alves did not delay the proceedings. He ordered a huge cauldron, capable of containing more than twenty gallons, to be placed in the center of the marketplace. Into this were emptied several castes of highly rectified spirit of a very inferior quality, to which was added a supply of cinnamon and other spices, no ingredient being emitted which was likely to give a pungency to suit the savage pallet. The whole royal red new formed a circle around the king. Fascinated by the sight of the spirit, Moanalunga came reeling up to the edge of the punch-bowl, and seemed ready to plunge himself, head foremost into it. Alves held him back, and at the same time placing a Lucifer in his hand. "'Set it alight,' cried the slave-dealer, gringing in silly, as he spoke. The king applied the match to the service of the spirit. The effect was instantaneous, high above the edge of the bowl, the blue frame froze and curled. To give intensity to the process, Alves had added a sprinkling of salt to the mixture, and this caused the fire to cast upon the faces of all around that lurid glare, which is generally associated with apparitions of ghosts and phantoms. Alves intoxicated already, the negroes yelled undisticulated, and joining hands, they performed a fiendish dance around their monarch. Alves stood and stirred the spirit with an enormous middle ladle, attached to a pole, and as the flames rose yet higher and higher, they seemed to throw more and more on earthly glamour over the ape-like forms that circled in their wild career. Moanalunga, in his eagerness, soon seized the ladle from the slave-dealer's hands, plunged it deep into the bowl, and, bringing it up again, full of the blazing punch, raised it to his lips. A horrible shriek brought the dances to a sudden standstill. By a kind of spontaneous combustion, the king had taken fire internally, though it was a fire that admitted little heat. It was nonetheless intense and consuming. In an instant one of the ministers in attendance rang to the king's attendance, but he, almost as much alcoholized as his master, caught fire as well, and soon both monarch and minister lay writhing on the ground in unutterable agony. Not a soul was able to lend a helping hand. Alves and agor were at a loss of what to do. The courtiers dared not expose themselves to so terrible of fate. The woman who had all fled in alarm, and Coimba, awakened to the conviction of the inflammability of his own condition, had rapidly de-camped. To say the truth, it was impossible to do anything. Water would have proved unavailability to quench the pale blue flame that hovered over the prostrate forms, every tissue of which was so thoroughly impregnated with spirit, that combustion, though outwardly extinguished, would continue to its work internally. In a few minutes life was extinct, but the bodies continued long after it was to burn, until upon the spot where they had fallen, a few light ashes, some fragments of the spinal column, some fingers and some toes, covered with a thin layer of stinking soot, where all that remained of the King of Kazande and his ill-fated minister. CHAPTER XII DICK SANS THE BOY CAPTAIN On the following morning the town of Kazande presented an aspect of unwanted desolation. All strutted to the event of the previous evening, the natives had all shut themselves up in their huts, that a monarch who was to be assumed as of divine origin should perish in one of his ministers, by so horrible a death was a thing wholly unparalleled in their experience. They all the part of the community remembered having taken part in certain cannibal preparations, and were aware that the cremation of a human body is no easy matter, yet here was a case in which two men had been all but early consumed without any extraneous application. Here was a mystery that baffled all their comprehension. Old Alves had also retired to the seclusion of his own residence, having been warned by Nagoro that he would probably be held responsible for the occurrence. He deemed it prudent to keep in retirement. Meanwhile Nagoro industriously circulated the report that the king's death had been brought about by supernatural means, reserved by the great Manitu solely for his elect, and that it was sacred fire that had preceded from his body. The superstitious natives readily received this version of the affair, and at once proceeded to honor Moa Nelunga, with funeral rites worthy of one thus conspicuously elevated to the rank of gods. The ceremony, which entailed an expenditure of human blood incredible, except that it is authenticated by Cameron and other African travelers, was just the opportunity Nagoro required for carrying out his designs against Dick, whom he intended to take a prominent part in it. The natural successor to the king was the king Moena. By inaugurating the funeral without delay, and thus assuming the semblance of authority, she firstaw the king of Okuzu, or any other rival who might venture to distribute her sovereignty, and moreover by taking the reins of government into her hands, she avoided the fate reserved for the other wives who, had they been allowed to live, might prove somewhat troublesome to the shrew. Accordingly, with the sound of kudu-horns and marimbas, she caused a proclamation to be made in the various quarters of the town, that the obsequies of the deceased monarch would be celebrated on the next evening with all due solemnity. The announcement met with no opposition, either from the officials about the court, or from the public at large. Alvis and the traders gently were quite satisfied with Moena's assumption of the supremacy. Knowing that by a few presents and a little flattery they could make her sufficiently considerate for their own interests. Preparations began at once. At the end of the chief thoroughfare floated deep and rapid brook, and affluent of the Kuangou, in the dry bed of which the royal grave was to be formed. Nades were immediately set to work to construct a dam by means of which the water could be diverted until the barrel was over, into a temporary channel across the plain. The last act of the ceremonial being to undam the stream and allow it to resume its proper course. The girl had formed the resolution that Dick Sands should be one of the victims to be sacrificed upon the king's tomb. Thoroughly aware as he was that the indignation which had caused the death of Harris extended in at least an equal degree to himself, the cowardly rascal would not have ventured to approach Dick under similar circumstances at the risk of meeting a similar fate. But knowing him to be a prisoner bound hand and foot, from whom there could be nothing to fear, he resolved to go to him in his dungeon. Not only did he delight in torturing his victims, but he derived a special gratification for witnessing the torture. At the middle of the day, accordingly, he made his way to the cell where Dick was detained under the strict watch of a havaldard. There bound with fetters that penetrated his very flesh lay the poor boy. For the last four and twenty hours he had not been allowed a morsel of food and would gladly have faced the most painful death as a welcome relief to his miseries. But at the sight of Nagoro all his energy revived. Instinctively he made an effort to burst his bonds and to get a hold upon his persecutor, but the strength of a giant would have been utterly unavailing for such design. Dick felt that the struggle he had to make was of another kind. Enforcing himself to an apparent composure, he determined to look Nagoro straight in the face, but to vouchsafe no reply to anything he might say. I felt bound, Nagoro began, to come and pay my respects to my young captain, and to tell him how sorry I am that he has not the same authority here that he had on board the pilgrim. Finding that Dick returned no answer, he continued, �You remember your old cook, Captain. I have come to know what you would like to order for breakfast.� Here he paused to give a brutal kick at Dick�s foot, and went on, �I have also another question to ask you, Captain. Can you tell me how it was that you landed here in Angola instead of upon the coast of America?� The way in which the question was put, more than ever confirmed Dick�s impression that the pilgrim�s course had been altered by Nagoro, but he persevered in maintaining a contentious silence. �It was a lucky thing for you, Captain,� resumed the vindictive Portuguese, �that you had a good semen on board. Otherwise the ship would have run aground on some reef in the tempest, instead of coming ashore here at a friendly port.� Whilst he was speaking, Nagoro had gradually drawn nearer to the prisoner, until their faces were almost in contact. Exasperated by Dick�s calmness, his countenance assumed an expression of the utmost ferocity, and at last he burst forth in a proxism of rage, �It is my turn now. I am Master now. I am Captain here. You are in my power now. Your life is in my hands.� �Take it then,� said Dick quietly, �Death has no terrorists in me, and your wickedness will soon be avenged.� �Avenged,� said Nagoro, �Do you suppose there is a single soul to care about you? Avenged? Who will concern himself with what befalls you?� �Except all of us in me, there is no one with a shadow of authority here. If you think you�re going to get any help from old Tom or any of those niggers, let me tell you that they are every one of them sold and have been sent to Zanzibar.� �Hercules is free,� said Dick. �Hercules,� said Nagoro, �He has been food for lions and panthers long ago. I am only sorry that I did not get the chance of disposing of him myself.� �And there is Dingo,� called me,� persisted Dick. �Sure is fate. He will find you out some day.� �Dingo is dead,� retorted Nagoro, �maliciously. I shot the brute myself, and I should be glad if every survivor of the pilgrim had shared his fate.� �But remember,� said Dick, �you have to follow them all yourself.� And he fixed a sharp gaze upon his persecuted eye. The Portuguese villain was stung to the quick, and he made a dash towards the youth, and would have strangled him upon the spot. But remembering that any such sudden action would be to liberate him from the torture he was determined he should undergo, he controlled his rage, and after giving strict orders to the Havadar, who had been a passive spectator of the scene, to keep a careful watch upon his charge, he left the dungeon. So far from depressing Dick's spirits the interview had altogether a contrary effect. His feelings had undergone a reaction, so that all his energies were restored. Possibly Nagoro and his sudden assault had unintentionally loosened his fetters, for he certainly seemed to have great a play for his limbs, and fancied that by a slight effort he might succeed in disengaging his arms. Even that amount of freedom, however, he knew could be of no real avail to him. He was a closely guarded prisoner, without hope of succor from without, and now he had no other wish than cheerfully to meet the death that should deign him to the friends who had gone before. The hours passed on, the gleams of daylight that penetrated the thatch roof of the prison gradually faded into darkness. The few sounds on the Chitoka, a great contrast to the hubbub of the day, became hushed into silence, and night fell upon the town of Kazande. Dick's hands slept soundly for about a couple of hours, and woke up considerably refreshed. One of his arms, which was somewhat less swollen than the other, he was able to withdraw from his bonds, and it wasn't at any rate a relief to stretch it at his pleasure. The havaldor, grasping the neck of a brandy bottle which he had just drained, had sunk into a heavy slumber, and Dick's hands was contemplated in the possibility of getting possession of his jailer's weapons, when his attention was arrested by a scratching at the bottom of the door. By the help of his liberated arm, he can try to crawl noiselessly to the threshold, where the scratching increased in violence. For a moment he was in doubt whether the noise proceeded from the movements of a man or an animal. He gave a glance at the havaldor, who was sound asleep, and placing his lips against the door, he murmured, "'Hercules!' A low whining was the sole reply. "'It must be Dingo, but addicted to himself. Nogoro may have told me a lie. Perhaps, after all, the dog is not dead.' As though in answer to his thoughts, a dog's paw was pushed below the door. Dick sees it eagerly. He had no doubt it was Dingo's, but if the dog brought a message it was sure to be tied to his neck, and there seemed to be no means of getting at it, except the hole underneath could be made large enough to admit the animal's head. Dick determined to try and scrape away the soil with the threshold and commence digging with his nails, but he had scarcely set himself to his task when loud barkings other than Dingo's were heard in the distance. The faithful creature had been scented out by the native dogs and instinct dictated on an immediate flight. Alarm had ever been taken, as several gunshots were fired. The havaldaw half roused himself from his slumber, and Dick was feigned to roll himself once more into his corner. They had awaited the dawn of the day which was intended to be his last. Throughout that day the grave digging was carried on with underemitted activity. A large number of the natives, under the superintendents of the Queen's prime minister, were set to work, and according to the decree of Moena, who seemed resolved to continue the rigorous sway of her departed husband, were bound under penalty of mutilation to accomplish their task within the prescribed time. As soon as the stream had been diverted into his temporary channel, there was hollowed out in the retired riverbed a pit fifty feet long, ten feet wide, and ten feet deep. This, towards the close of the day, was lined throughout with living women selected from one of the long good slaves. In ordinary cases it would have been their fate to be buried alive beside their master, but in recognition of his miraculous death it was ordained that they should be drowned beside his remains. Footnote. The horrible hecatomes that commemorate the death of any powerful chief in Central Africa defy all description. Cameron relates that more than a hundred victims were sacrificed at the obsequies of the father of the king of Casongo. Generally the royal corpse is arrayed in his Richard's vestments before being consigned to the tomb, but in this case, when the remains consisted only of a few charred bones, another plan was adopted. An image of the king, perhaps rather flattening to the original, was made of wicker work. Inside this replaced the fragments of bones and skin, and the effigy itself was in arrayed in the robes of state, which is already mentioned were not of a very costly description. Cousin Benedict's spectacles were not forgotten, but were firmly affixed to the countenance of the image. The masquerade had its ludicrous as well as its terrible side. When the evening arrived, a long procession was seen winding its way to the place of interment. The uproar was perfectly deafening. Shouts, yells, the boisterous incantations of the musicians, the clang of musical instruments, and the report of many old muskets mingled in wild confusion. The ceremony was to take place by torchlight, and the whole population of Cousin Benedict, native and otherwise, was bound to be present. Alves, Corimbra, Nogoro, the arrow-dealers and the Havallars all helped to swallow the numbers. The queen, having given express orders that no one who had been at the Lacone should leave the town, and it was not deemed prudent to dismay her commands. The remains of the king were carried in a pylanguin in the rear of the cottage, surrounded by the wives of the second class, some of whom were doomed to follow their masters beyond the tomb. Queen Moena, in a state array, marched behind the catafok. Night was well advanced when the entire procession reached the banks of the brook, but the resin torches, waved on high by their bearers, shed a ready glare upon the teeming crowd. The grave with its lining of living women, bound to its side by chains, was plainly visible. Fifty slaves, some resigned to mute, others uttering loud and piteous cries, were there awaiting the moment when the rushing torrent should be opened upon them. The wives who were destined to perish had been selected by the queen herself, and were all in holiday attire. One of the victims, who bore the title of second wife, was forced down upon her hands and knees in the grave in order to form a resting place for the effigy, as she had been accustomed to do for the living sovereign. The third wife had to sustain the image in an upright position, and the fourth lay down on its feet to make a footstool. In front of the effigy, at the end of the grave, a huge stake, painted red, was planted firmly in the earth. Bound to this stake, his body half naked, exhibiting marks of the torches, which by Negro's orders he had already undergone, fearless and hopeless, was Dick Sands. The time, however, for opening the flood-gate had not yet arrived. First of all, at a sign from the queen, the fourth wife, forming the royal footstool, had a throat cut by an executioner, her blood streaming into the grave. This barbless deed was a commencement of a most frightful butchery. One after another, fifty slaves fell beneath the slaughterous knife, until the riverbed was a very cataract of blood. For half an hour the streets of the victims mingled with the implications of their murderous, without evoking one single expression of horror or sympathy from the gazing crowd around. At a second signal from the queen, the barrier, which retained the water above, was opened. By a refinement of cruelty the torment was not admitted suddenly to the grave, but allowed to trickle gradually in. The first to be drowned were the slaves that carpeted the bottom of the trench. Their frightful struggles bearing witness to the slow death that was overpowering them. Dick was immersed to his knees, but he could be seen making what might seem one last frantic effort to burst his bonds. Steadily rose the water. The stream resumed its proper course. The last head disappeared beneath its surface, and soon there remained nothing to indicate that in the death below there was a tomb where a hundred victims have been sacrificed to the memory of the king of Kazonde. As well as they are to describe, it is impossible to ignore the reality of such scenes. Part II. CHAPTER XIII. Of Dick Sands, the boy captain. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Dick Sands, the boy captain. By Jules Verne. Translated by Ellen E. Ferrer. Part II. CHAPTER XIII. INCAPTIVITY. So far, for Mrs. Weldon and Jack, having succumbed to the hardships to which they have been exposed, they were both alive, and together with cousin Benedict were now in Kazonde. After the assault upon the anhill they had all three been conveyed beyond the encampment to a spot where a rude palanquin was in readiness for Mrs. Weldon and her son. The journey hence to Kazonde was consequently accomplished without much difficulty. Cousin Benedict, who performed it on foot, was allowed to entomologize as much as he pleased upon the road, so that to him the distance was a matter of no concern. The party reached their destination a week sooner than even Hamish's caravan, and the prisoners were lodged in Alves's quarters. Jack was much better. After leaving the marshy districts he had no return of fever, and as a certain amount of indulgence had been allowed them on their journey, both he and his mother as far as their health was concerned might be said to be in satisfactory condition. Of the rest of her former companions Mrs. Weldon could hear nothing. She had herself been a witness of the escape of Hercules, but of course knew nothing further of his fate. As for Dick Sands she entertained a sanguine hope that his skite-skin would protect him from any severe treatment. But for Nan and the other poor negroes here upon African soil she feared the very worst. Being her entirety shut off from communication with the outer world she was quite unaware of the arrival of the caravan. As soon as she had heard the noisy commotion of the market she would not have known what it meant, and she was in ignorance alike of the death of Harris, of the sale-automatous companions, of the dreadful end of the king, and of the royal obsequies in which poor Dick had been assigned to a melancholy in his share. During the journey from the Coasa to Cazonde, Harris and Nagora had held no conversation with her, and since her arrival she had not been allowed to pass the enclosure of the establishment, so that as far as she knew she was quite alone, and being in Nagora's peril was in a position from which it seemed only too likely nothing but death could release her. From Cousin Benedict it was needless to repeat that she could expect no assistance. His own personal pursuits engrossed him, and he had no care nor leisure to bestow upon his external circumstances. His first feeling on being made to understand that he was not in America was one of deep disappointment that the wonderful things he had seen were no discoveries at all. They were simply African insects common on African soil. This vexation, however, soon passed away, and he began to believe that the land of the Pharaohs might possess as much entomological wealth as the land of the Incas. Ah, he would exclaim to Mrs. Weldon. He list that she gave him little under attention. This is the country of the Manticore, and wonderful Choleoptera they are, with their long, hairy legs, their sharp elitra, and their big mandibles, but the most remarkable of them all is the tuberous Manticora, and isn't this too the land of the golden-tipped Calosome, and of the prickly-legged Goliaths of Guinea and Gibbon. There, too, we ought to find the spotted Antheodia, which lay their eggs in empty snail shells, and the sacred Atentius, which the old Egyptians used to venerate as divine. Yes, yes, he would say at another time. This is the proper habitat of those Death's Head Sphinxes, which are now so common everywhere, and this is the place for those Edes Begoti, so formidable to the natives of Senegal. There must be wonderful discoveries to be made here if only those good people will let me. The good people referred to where Nogoro and Harris, who had restored him much of the liberty of which Dick Sands had found it necessary to deprive him. With freedom to Rome and in possession of his tin box, Benedict would have been amongst the most contented of men, had it not been for the loss of his spectacles and magnifying glass, now buried by the king of Kazonde. Reduced to the necessity of poking every insect almost into his eyes before he could discover its characteristics, he would have sacrificed much to recover or replace his glasses, but as such articles were not to be procured at any price, he contended himself with the permission to go where he pleased within the limits of the palisade. His keepers knew him well enough to be satisfied that he would make no attempt to escape, and as the enclosure was nearly a mile in circumference containing many shrubs and trees and huts with thatched roofs, besides being intersected by a running stream, it afforded him a very fair scope for his researches, and who should say that he would not discover some novel specimen to which, in the records of entomological science, his own name might be a sign. If thus the domain of Antonio Alvarez was sufficiently dissatisfied Benedict to little Jack, it might well seem immense. But though allowed to ramble over the whole place as he liked, the child rarely cared to leave his mother. He would be continually inquiring about his father, whom he had now so long been expecting to see. He would ask why Nan and Hercules and Dingo had gone away and left him, and perpetually he would be expressing his wonder where Dick could be, and wishing he would come back again. His well-done could only hide her tears and answer him by caresses. Nothing, however, transpired to give the least intimation that any of the prisoners were to be treated otherwise than they had been upon the journey from Coenza. Accepting such as were retained for old Alvarez's personal service, all the slaves had been sold, and the storehouses were now full of stuffs and ivory, the stuffs destined to be sent into the central provinces, and the ivory to be exported. The establishment was thus no longer crowded as it had been, and Mrs. Balden and Jack were lodged in a different hut to cousin Benedict. All three, however, took their meals together and were allowed a sufficient diet of mutton or goat's flesh, vegetables, manioc, sorghum, and native fruits. With the trade of servants they held no communication. But Halima, a young slave, had been told off to attend to Mrs. Balden. Events for her new mistress and attachment, which, though rough, was evidently sincere. Old Alvarez, who occupied the principal house in the depot, was rarely seen, whilst the non-appearance of either Harris or Nagoro caused Mrs. Balden much surprise and perplexity. In the midst of all her troubles too, she was haunted by the thought of the anxiety her husband must be suffering on her account. Unaware of her having embarked on board the pilgrim, her first he would have wondered at steamer after steamer, arriving at San Francisco without her. After a while the pilgrim would have been registered amongst the number of missing ships, and it was certain the intelligence would be forwarded to him by his correspondence that the vessel had sailed from Auckland with his wife and child on board. What was he to imagine? He might refuse to believe that he had perched at sea, but he would never dream of there having been carried to Africa, and would certainly institute a search in no other direction than on the coast of America, or amongst the isles of the Pacific. She had not the faintest hope of her whereabouts being discovered, and involuntarily her thoughts turned to the possibility of making an escape. She might well feel her heart sink within her at the bare idea, even if she should succeed in unloading the vigilance of the watch there were two hundred miles of the dense forest to be traversed before the coast could be reached. Nevertheless, it revealed itself to her as her last chance, and firing all else, she resolved to hazard it. But first of all she determined, if it were possible, to discover the ultimate design of Nogoro. She was not kept long in suspense. On the 6th of June, just a week after the Royal Funeral, the Portuguese entered the depot, in which he had not set foot since his return, and made his way straight to the hut, in which he knew he should find the prisoner. Benedict was out, insect hunting. Jack, under Halima's charge, was being taken for a walk. Mrs. Walden was alone. Nogoro pushed open the door and said abruptly, Mrs. Walden, I have come to tell you, that Tom and his lot have been sold for the Ujiji market. Nan died on her way here, and Dick Sands is dead too. Mrs. Walden uttered a cry of horror. Yes, Mrs. Walden, he continued. He has got what he deserved. He shot Harris, and has been executed for the murder. And here you are alone. Mark this, alone and in my power. What Nogoro said was true. Tom, Bat, Actaeon, and Austin had all been sent off that morning on their way to Ujiji. Mrs. Walden groaned bitterly. Nogoro went on. If I choose, I could still further avenge upon you the ill treatment I got on board that ship. But it does not suit my purpose to kill you. You and that boy of yours, and that idiot of a fly catcher, all have a certain value in the market. I mean to sell you. You dare not! said Mrs. Walden firmly. You know you are making an idle threat. What who do you suppose would purchase people of white blood? I know a customer who will give me the price, I mean to ask, replied Nogoro, with a brutal grin. She bent down her head. Only too well she knew that such things were possible in this horrid land. Tell me who he is, she said. Tell the name of the man who— James Walden, he answered slowly. My husband, she cried. What do you mean? I mean what I say. I mean to make your husband buy you back at my price. And if he likes to pay for them, he shall have his son and his cousin, too. And when, and how, may I ask you to propose to manage this, replied Mrs. Walden, forcing herself to be calm. Here and soon, too. I suppose Walden did well not mind coming to fetch you. He would not hesitate to come. But how could he know where we are? I will go to him. I have money that will take me to San Francisco. What do you stole from the pilgrims, said Mrs. Walden? Just so, replied Nogoro. And I have plenty more, I suppose, when Walden hears that you are a prisoner in Central Africa. He would not think much of a hundred thousand dollars. But how is he to know the truth of your statement? I shall take a letter from you. You shall represent me as your faithful servant, just escape from the hands of the savages. A letter such as that I will never write, never, said Mrs. Walden, decisively. What? What? You refuse? I refuse. She had all the natural cravings of a woman and a wife, but so thoroughly was she aware of the treachery of the man she had to deal with, that she dreaded lest, as soon as he had touched the ransom he would dispose of her husband altogether. There was a short silence. You will write that letter, said Nogoro. Never repeat it, Mrs. Walden. Remember your child. Mrs. Walden's heart beat violently, but she did not answer a word. I will give you a week to think over this, hissed out Nogoro. Mrs. Walden was still silent. A week. I will come again in a week. You will do as you wish, or it will be the worst for you. He gnashed his teeth, turned on his heel, and left the hut. CHAPTER XIV. OF DICK SANS THE BOY CAPTAIN. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Alex C. Tillander. Davis, California. Dick Sands, the boy captain. By Jules Verne. Translated by Ellen E. Fruehrer. Part II CHAPTER XIV. A RAY OF HOPE. Mrs. Walden's first feeling on being left alone was a sense of relief at having a week's respite. She had no trust in Nogoro's honesty, but she knew well enough that their marketable value would secure them from any personal danger, and she had time to consider whether some compromise might be affected by which her husband might be spared the necessity of coming to Cazonde. Upon the receipt of a letter from herself, he would not hesitate for a moment in undertaking the journey, but she had attained no little fear that after all perhaps her own departure might not be permitted. The slightest caprice of the part of Queen Moana would detain her as a captive, whilst as to Nogoro, if one he should get the ransom he wanted, he wouldn't take no further pains in the matter. Accordingly she resolved to make the proposition that she should be conveyed to some point upon the coast, where the bargain can be concluded without Mrs. Walden coming up the country. She had to weigh all the consequences that would follow, and he refused on her part to fall in with Nogoro's demands. Of course, he would spend the interval in preparing for his start to America, and when he should come back and find her still hesitating, it was not likely that he would find scope for his revenge in suggesting that she must be separated from her child. The very thoughts had a pang through her heart, and she clasped her little boy tingly to her side. What makes you so sad, Mama? asked Jack. I was thinking of your father, my child, she answered. Would you not like to see him? Yes, yes. Is he coming here? No, my boy. He must not come here. Then let us take Dick and Tom and Hercules and go to him. Mrs. Walden will try to conceal her tears. Have you heard from Papa? No. Then why do you not write to him? Write to him? repeated his mother. This is the very thing I was thinking about. The child little knew the attitudeation that was troubling her mind. Meanwhile, Mrs. Walden had another inducement, which she hardly ventured to own to herself for postponing her final decision. Was it absolutely impossible that her liberation should be affected by some different means altogether? A few days previously she had overheard a conversation outside her hut, and over this she had found herself continually pondering. Alves and one of the OGG dealers, discussing the future prospects of their business, mutually agreed and denouncing the efforts that were being made for their suppression of the slave traffic, not only by the cruisers on the coast, but by the intrusion of travelers and missionaries into the interior. Alves averred that all these troublesome visitors ought to be exterminated forthwith. The kill one and another crops up, replied the dealer. Yes, their exaggerated reports bring up a swarm of them, said Alves. It seemed a subject of bitter complaint that the markets of Nyongwe, Zanzibar, and the Lake District had been invaded by a speake, and Grant, and others, and although they congratulated each other that the western provinces had not yet been much persecuted, they confessed that now that the traveling epidemic had begun to rage, there was no telling how soon a lot of European and American busybodies might be among them. Thedepo, Kazangé, and Bihé had both been visited, and although Kazangé had heard the two have been left quiet, there are rumors enough that the continent was to be tramped over from east to west. Foot known. This extraordinary feat was, it is universally known, subsequently accomplished by Cameron. And it may be, continued Alves, that that missionary fellow, Livingston, is already on its way to us. It becomes they can be up at one result. There must be freedom for all slaves in Kazangé. Freedom for the slaves in Kazangé? Though these were the words with which, in connection with Dr. Livingston's name, had arrested Mrs. Walden's attention, and who can wonder that she plundered them over and over again, and rented to associate them with her own prospects. Here was a ray of hope. The mere mention of Livingston's name in association with this story seems to be demand a brief survey of his career. Born on the 19th of March, 1813, David Livingston was the second of six children of a tradesman in the village of Blantyre in Lanarkshire. After two years trading in medicine and theology, he was sent out by the London Missionary Society and landed at the Cave of Good Hope in 1840, with the attention of joining Moffat in South Africa. After exploring the country of the Bekwanans, he returned to Kuduman, and having married Moffat's daughter, proceeded in 1843 to found a mission in the Mabotsa Valley. After four years, he removed to Kolobeng, in the Benjuana District, 220 miles north of Kuduman, whence in 1849, starting off with his wife, three children, and two friends, Mr. Oswald and Mr. Murray, he discovered Lake Ngami, and returned by the sending the course of the Zuga. The opposition of the natives had prevented his proceeding beyond Lake Ngami at his first visit, and he made a second with no better success. In a third attempt, however, he wanted his way northwards with his family and Mr. Oswald, along the Chobe, an affluent of the Zambezi, and after a difficult journey at length reached the district of the Macalolos, of whom the chief, named Cebetwane, joined him at Lignante. The Zambezi itself was discovered at the end of June, 1851, and the doctor returned to the Cape for the purpose of sending his family to England. His next project was across the continent, obliquely, from south to west, but in this expedition he had resolved that he would risk no life but his own. Accompanied, therefore, by only a few natives, he started in the following June, and scouting the Kalahari Desert at Dirdelitubaruba on the last day of the year. Here he found the Bechuanah District, much ravaged by the Boers, the original Dutch colonists, who had formed the population of the Cape before it came into possession of the English. After a fortnight's stay he proceeded into the heart of the district of the Bamangonatos, and traveled continuously until the 23rd of May, when he arrived at Lignante, and was received in much honour by a secular Jew, who had recently become sovereign of the Macalolos. A severe attack of fever detained the traveller here for a period, but he made good use of the enforced risk by studying the manners of the country, and became, for the first time, sensible of its terrible sufferings in consequence of the slave trade. Descended the course of the Chobe to the Zambezi, he next entered Narniele, and after visiting Katonga and Libonta, advanced to the point of confluence of the Liva with the Zambezi, where he determined upon ascending the former as far as the Portuguese possessions in the West. It was an undertaking, however, that required considerable preparation, so that it was necessary for him to return to Lignante. On the 11th of November he started again. He was accompanied by 27 Macalolos, and ascended the Liva till, in the territory of the Ballonda. Here he reached a spot where it received the waters of his tributary, the Macondo. It was the first time a white man had ever penetrated so far. Proceeding on their way, they arrived at the residence of Shinte, the most powerful of the chieftains of the Ballonda, by whom they were well received, and having met with equal kindness from Katima, a ruler on the other side of Limba, they encamped, on the 20th of February, 1853, on the banks of Lake Delolo. Here it was that the real difficulty commenced, the arduous traveling, the attacks on the natives, and their exorbitant demands. The conspiracies of his own attendants and their desertions would soon have caused any one of less energy to abandon his enterprise. But David Livingston was not a man to be daunted. Resolutely he persevered, and on the 4th of April reached the banks of the Coango, the stream that forms the frontier of the Portuguese positions, and joins the Zaire on the north. Six days later he passed through Casangue. Here it was that Alves had seen him. On the 31st of May he arrived at St. Paul de Luanda, having traversed this continent in about two years. It was not long, however, before he was off again. Following the banks of the Coanza, the river which was to bring such trying experiences to Dick Sands and his party, he reached the Lombe, and having met numbers of slave caravans on his way, again passed through Casangue, crossed the Coango, and reached the Zambezi at Quewawa. By the 8th of the following June he was again at Lake Delolo, and descending the river he re-entered Lignante. Here he stayed till the 3rd of November where he commenced his second great journey, which was to carry him completely across Africa, from west to east. After visiting the famed Victoria Falls, the intrepid explorer quitted the Zambezi and took a northeasterly route, the transit of the territory of the Patocas, a people brutalized by the inhalation of hemp, a visit to Semalamboni, the powerful chief of the district, the passage of the Cafoni, a visit to King Mburuoma, an inspection of the ruins of Zumbó, an old Portuguese town, a meeting with the chief Mpende, at that time at war with the Portuguese. These were the principal events of this journey. And on the 22nd of April, Livingston left Tete, and having descended this river as far as its delta, reached Kilimané, just four years after his departure from the Cape. On the 12th of July he embarked for the Mauritius, and on the 22nd of December, 1856, he landed in England after an absence of 16 years. Loaded with honors by the geographical societies of London and Paris, brilliantly entertained by all ranks, it would have been no matter of surprise if he had surrendered himself to a well-earned repose. But no thought of permanent rest occurred to him. And on the 1st of March, 1858, accompanied by his brother Charles, Captain Beddingford Dr. Miller, Mr. Thornton, and Mr. Baines, he started again, with the intention of exploring the basin of the Zambezi, and arrived at due time at the coast of Mozambique. The party ascended the great river by the Congolian mouth. They were on board a small steamer named the Ma Robert, and it reached Tete on the 8th of September, During the following year, they investigated the lower course of the Zambezi, and its left affluent, the Chire, and having visited Lake Chirot, they explored the territory of the Manganyas, and discovered Lake Nyasa. In August 1860, they returned to the Victoria Falls. Early in the following year, Bishop McKenzie and his missionary staff arrived at the mouth of the Zambezi. In March, an exploration of the Ravuma was made on board the Pioneer, the exploring party returning afterwards to Lake Nyasa, where they remained at considerable time. The 30th of January, 1862, was signalized by the arrival of Mrs. Livingston, and by the addition of another steamer, the Lake Lady Nyasa, but the happiness of reunion was very transient. It was but a short time before the enthusiastic Bishop McKenzie succumbed to the unhealthiness of the climate, and on the 27th of April, Mrs. Livingston expired in her husband's arms. A second investigation of the Ravuma soon followed, and at the end of November, the doctor returned to the Zambezi, and reassented the shire. In the spring of 1803, he lost his companion, Mr. Thornton, and as his brother and Dr. Kurt were both much dililitated, he insisted upon their return to Europe, while he himself returned for the third time to Lake Nyasa, and completed the hydrological survey, which already he had begun. A few months later, once more found him at the mouth of the Zambezi. Then he crossed over to Zanzibar, and after five years' absence arrived in London, where he published his work, the exploration of the Zambezi and its affluence. Still unworried and insatiable in his lines, he was back again in Zanzibar at the commencement of 1866, ready to begin his fourth journey, this time attended only by a few seapoys and degrills. Witnessing on its way, since horrible scenes which were perpetrated as a result of the first prosecution of the slated trade, he proceeded to Macalose on the shores of Lake Nyasa, where nearly all his attendants deserted him, and returned to Zanzibar where there were four that he was dead. Dr. Livingston, meanwhile, was not only alive, but undaunted in his determination to visit the country between the two lakes Nyasa and Tanganyika. With none to guide him except a few natives, he crossed the Luangwona, and in the following April, discovered Lake Leomba. Here he lay for a whole month, hovering between life and death, but rallying a little, he pushed on the north shore of Lake Moero. Taking up his quarters at Kazambe for six weeks, he made two separate explorations of the lake, and then started for a father northwards, intending to reach Ujiji, an important town upon Lake Tanganyika. Overtaken, however, by floods, and again abandoned by his servants, he was obliged to retrace his steps. Six weeks afterwards, he had made his way southwards to the great lake Banguolo, whence once more he started towards Tanganyika. This last effort was most trying, and the doctor had grown so weak that he was obliged to be carried, but he reached Ujiji, where he was gratified by finding some supplies that had been thoughtfully forward to him by the Oriental Society at Calcutta. His great aim now was to ascend the lake and reach the sources of the Nile. On the 21st of September he was at Bambare in the country of the cannibal Manuema, upon the Luallaba, the river afterwards ascertained by Stanley to be the upper Zaire or Congo. At Mamabella the doctor was ill for twenty-four days, tended only by three followers who continued faithful, but in July he made a vigorous effort, and although he was reduced to a skeleton, made his way back to Ujiji. During this long time no tidings at Livingston reached Europe, and many were the misgivings, lest the rumors of his death were only too true. He was himself too, almost despairing, as to receiving any help. The help was closer at hand than he thought. On the 3rd of November, only eleven days after his return to Ujiji, some gunshots were heard within half a mile of the lake. The doctor went out to ascertain whence they proceeded, and had not gone far before a white man stood before him. You are Dr. Livingston, I presume, said the stranger, raising his cap. Yes, sir, I am Dr. Livingston, and I am happy to see you, as to the doctor, smiling kindly. The two shook each other warmly by the hand. The new arrival was Henry Stanley, the correspondent of the New York Herald, who had been sent out by Mr. Bennett, the editor in search of the great African explorer. On receiving his orders in October, 1870, without a day's unnecessary delay, he embarked at Bombay for Zanzibar, and after a journey involving concerto peril had arrived safely at Ujiji. Very soon the two travelers found themselves on the best of terms, and set out together on an excursion to the north of Tanganyika. They proceeded as far as Cape Magala, and decided that the chief outlet of the lake must be an affluent of the Lualaba, a conclusion that was subsequently preferring by Cameron. Towards the end of the year, Stanley began to prepare to return. Livingston accompanied him as far as Quijara, and on the third of the following March, they parted. You are done for me what few men would venture to do. I am truly grateful, said Livingston. Stanley could scarcely repress his tears as he expressed his hope that the doctor might be spared to return to his friends safe and well. Good-bye, said Stanley, choked with emotion. Good-bye, answered the veteran feebly. Thus they parted, and July, 1872, Stanley Head landed at Marseille. Again David Livingston resumed his research as in the interior. After remaining five months at Quijara, he gathered together a retinue consisting of his faithful followers, Suzy, Chuma, Amoda, and Jacob Wainwright, and fifty-six men sent to him by Stanley, and lost no time in proceeding towards the south of Tanganyika. In the course of the ensuing month, the caravan encountered some frightful storms, but succeeded in reaching Muwa. They had perheavously been an extreme drought, which was now followed by the rainy season, which entailed the loss of many of the beasts of burden, in consequence of the bites of the Sitsi. On the twenty-fourth of January, they were at Chitunkwe, and in April, after running the east of Lake Banguelo, they made their way towards the village of Chitumbo. At this point it was that Livingston had parted company with certain slave-dealers, who would carry the information to Old Alves that the missionary-traveler would very likely proceed by way of Luanda to Kazande. By on the thirteenth of June, the very day before Nagora reckoned on obtaining from Mrs. Walden the letter which should be the means of securing him a hundred thousand dollars, tidings were circulated in the district, that on the first of May, Dr. Livingston had breathed his last. The report proved perfectly true. On the twenty-ninth of April, the caravan had reached the village of Chitumbo. The doctor sewn well that he was carried on a litter. The following night he was in great pain, and after repeatedly memorying in a low voice, oh dear, oh dear, he fell into a kind of stupor. A short time afterwards he called up Susie, and having asked for some medicine, told his attendant that he should not require anything more. You can go now. After about four o'clock next morning, when an anxious visit was made to his room, the doctor was found kneeling by his bedside, his head in his hands, in the attitude of prayer. Susie touched him, but his forehead was icy with the coldness of death. He had died in the night. His body was carried by those who loved him, and in spite of many obstacles was brought to Zanzibar, whence nine months after his death it was conveyed to England. On the twelfth of April, 1874, it was interred in Westminster Abbey, kind of worthy to be deposited among those whom the country most delights to honour. End of Part II Chapter 14 Recording by Alexi Thelander, Davis, California