Black Ivory
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During the day, the number of animals of all sorts that were seen was so great as to induce Disco to protest, with a slap of his thigh, that the whole land, from stem to stern, seemed to him to be one prodigious zoological garden—it did, an’ no mistake about it.
Disco was not far wrong. He and Harold having started ahead of the party, with Chimbolo as their guide, came on a wonderful variety of creatures in rapid succession. First, they fell in with some large flocks of guinea-fowl, and shot a few for dinner. As they advanced, various birds ran across their path, and clouds of turtle-doves filled the air with the blatter of their wings as they rose above the trees. Ducks, geese, and francolins helped to swell the chorus of sounds.
When the sun rose and sent a flood of light over a wide and richly wooded vale, into which they were about to descend, a herd of pallahs stood gazing at the travellers in stupid surprise, and allowed them to approach within sixty yards before trotting leisurely away. These and all other animals were passed unmolested, as the party had sufficient meat at the time, and Harold made it a point not to permit his followers to shoot animals for the mere sake of sport, though several of them were uncommonly anxious to do so. Soon afterwards a herd of waterbucks were passed, and then a herd of koodoos, with two or three magnificently-horned bucks amongst them, which hurried off to the hillsides on seeing the travellers. Antelopes also were seen, and buffaloes, grazing beside their path.
Ere long they came upon a small pond with a couple of elephants standing on its brink, cooling their huge sides by drawing water into their trunks and throwing it all over themselves. Behind these were several herds of zebras and waterbucks, all of which took to flight on “getting the wind” of man. They seemed intuitively to know that he was an enemy. Wild pigs, also, were common, and troops of monkeys, large and small, barked, chattered, grinned, and made faces among the trees.
After pitching the camp each afternoon, and having had a mouthful of biscuit, the two Englishmen were in the habit of going off to hunt for the daily supply of fresh meat accompanied by Chimbolo as their guide and game-carrier, Antonio as their interpreter, and Mokompa as their poet and jester. They did not indeed, appoint Mokompa to that post of honour, but the little worthy took it upon himself, for the express purpose of noting the deeds of the white men, in order to throw his black comrades into convulsions over supper by a poetic recital of the same.
“It pleases them, an’ it don’t hurt us,” was Disco’s observation on this head.
On the afternoon, then, of which we write, the party of four went out to hunt, while the encampment was being prepared under the superintendence of Jumbo, who had already proved himself to be an able manager and cook, as also had his countrymen Masiko and Zombo.
“What a rich country!” exclaimed Harold, looking round in admiration from the top of a small hillock on as fine a scene as one could wish to behold, “and what a splendid cotton country it might be if properly cultivated!”
“So it is,” said Disco, “an’ I shouldn’t wonder if there wos lots of gold too, if we only knew where to look for it.”
“Gold!” exclaimed Antonio, who sat winking placidly on the stump of a fallen tree; “dere be lots ob gold near Zambesi—an’ oder ting too.”
“Let’s hear wot are some of the other things,” said Disco.
“What are dere?—oh, let me see: der be coal, lots ob coal on Zambesi, any amount ob it, an’ it burn fuss-rate, too. Dere be iron-ore, very much, an’ indigo, an’ sugar-cane, an ivory; you hab hear an’ see yooself about de elephants an’ de cottin, an’ tobacco. (See Livingstone’s Zambesi and its Tributaries, page 52.) Oh! great plenty ob eberyting eberywhere in dis yere country, but,” said Antonio, with a shrug of his shoulders, “no can make noting out ob it on account ob de slave-trade.”
“Then I ’spose ’ee don’t approve of the slave-trade?” said Disco.
“No, dat am true,” replied Antonio; “de country very good for slave-trader, but no good for man like me what want to trade proper.”
“H’m! I’ve more respect for ’ee than I had,” said Disco. “I ’spose you’ve bin up in these parts before now, have ’ee?”
“No, nevah, but I hab sister what marry one nigger, one slave, what sold himself, an’ him tell me much ’bout it. Hims bin up here many time.”
“Sold himself!” repeated Harold in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Mean dat,” returned Antonio. “Him was a black free-man—call him Chibanti; him was all alone in de world, lose fader, moder, broder, sister, wife, eberyting by slave-trader, who steal dem all away or murder dem. So Chibanti him say, ‘What de use of be free?’ So him go to one master, who berry good to hims niggers—gib dem plenty to eat an’ little to do—an’ sole hisself to him.”
“An’ wot did he get for himself?” asked Disco.
“Got ninety yard ob cottin cloth.”
“Did he consider himself cheap or dear at that?” inquired Disco.
“Oh, dear—awful dear!”
“What has come of him now?” asked Harold.
“Dunno,” answered Antonio. “After him got de cloth, hims master send him to Quillimane wid cargo ob ivory, an’ gib him leave to do leetil trade on hims own account; so him bought a man, a woman, an’ a boy, for sixty yard ob cottin, an’ wid de rest hired slaves for de voyage down, an’ drove a mos’ won’erful trade. But long time since me hear ob him. P’raps hims good master be dead, an’ him go wid de rest of de goods an’ chattels to a bad master, who berry soon make him sorry him sole hisself.”
Pushing forward for several days in the manner which we have attempted to describe, our travellers passed through many varied scenes, which, however, all bore one mark in common, namely, teeming animal and vegetable life. Human beings were also found to be exceedingly numerous, but not so universally distributed as the others, for, although many villages and hamlets were passed, the inhabitants of which were all peacefully inclined and busy in their fields, or with their native cotton, iron, and pottery manufactures, vast expanses of rich ground were also traversed, which, as far as man was concerned, appeared to be absolute solitudes.
Entering upon one of these about noon of a remarkably fine day, Harold could not help remarking on the strange stillness which pervaded the air. No sound was heard from beast, bird, or insect; no village was near, no rippling stream murmured, or zephyr stirred the leaves; in short, it was a scene which, from its solitude and profound silence, became oppressive.
“W’y, sir,” said Disco, whose face was bathed in perspiration, “it do seem to me as if we’d got to the fag-end of the world altogether. There ain’t nothin’ nowhere.”
Harold laughed, and said it looked like it. But Disco was wrong. It was only the hour when animals seem to find a siesta indispensable, and vegetables as well as air had followed their example. A few minutes sufficed to prove their mistake, for, on entering a piece of woodland, a herd of pallahs, and another of water-bucks, appeared, standing as quiet and still as if they were part of a painted landscape. Then, in passing a thick clump of thorns, they could see, through openings in the bushes, the dim phantom-like forms of buffaloes, with heads lowered and eyes glaring at them, ready to charge, if need be, though too lazy from heat, apparently, to begin the ’fray, and willing to act on the principle of “let be for let be.” Still farther on, a native was observed keeping at a respectful distance. He had seen the travellers from afar, and come with noiseless tread to get a nearer view.
Halting to rest the party for a few minutes in a shady hollow, Harold threw himself at full length on the grass, but Disco, who, strange to say, did not feel inclined to smoke at the moment—probably because he had only just finished his fifth pipe a few minutes previously—sauntered on alone to the top of the next ridge.
He had barely reached the summit when Harold, who chanced to be looking after him, observed that he crouched suddenly behind a bush, and, after gazing steadfastly for a few seconds over the hill, turned and ran back, making excessively wild demonstrations with head and arms, but uttering no sound.
Of course the whole party sprang up and ran towards the excited mariner, and soon were near enough to understand that his violent actions were meant to caution them to make no noise.
“Hush!” he said eagerly, on coming near enough to be heard; “keep quiet as mice. There’s a slave-gang, or somethin’ uncommon like it, goin’ along on right athwart us.”
Without a word of reply, the whole party hurried forward and gained a point of observation behind the low bushes which crowned the ridge.
Chapter Fifteen.
Shows Some of the Effects of the Slave-Trade at the Fountain-Head
Down in a gorge, just below the spot where Harold Seadrift and his men lay concealed, a strange sight met the eyes of the two Englishmen, in regard to which, despite all that they had heard and seen, and were prepared to see, they were as much shocked as if it had never been presented even to their imaginations up to that moment.
It was a gang of slaves winding its way slowly but steadily through the gorge.
The head of the dusky procession was just emerging on the open ground beyond the gorge when the travellers first came upon it. The slaves advanced towards the spot where they lay, passing under it so closely that they could see the very expressions on the faces of the men, women, and children who composed the gang. These expressions were varied and very terrible. Our travellers had now reached the fountain-head whence the perennial stream of “Black Ivory” flows out of Africa. The process of manufacture, although considerably advanced, had not yet reached that perfection of callous subjection and settled despair which had struck our Englishmen so forcibly in the slave-market of Zanzibar. There was anxiety not unmingled with faint hope in the faces of some of the women; and a few of the more stalwart and courageous among the men wore a fierce, determined aspect which told of manhood not yet absolutely prostrated in the dust of abject servility, while, in regard to some of the children, surprise at the peculiar circumstances of their surroundings had not yet been swallowed up in a condition of chronic terror.
They marched in a long line, fastened to each other by chains and ropes and heavy “gorees” or slave-sticks. The latter implements were poles from six to seven feet long, with a fork at the end of each, in which the necks of the men were fitted and secured by means of an iron bolt, passing across the throat and riveted at both ends. To render marching possible with such encumbrances, the men went in couples, one behind the other, so that the slave-stick of the leading man could be tied to the stick of his fellow behind, which was slewed round to the front for the purpose. Their wrists were also tied, some in front, others behind their backs. Secured thus, Hercules himself might have been reduced to obedience, especially if he had felt the frequent sting of the cruel lash that was laid on these captives, a lash whose power was made manifest by the numerous seams and scars which crossed and recrossed their backs and limbs. The women and children were deemed sufficiently secure by being fastened to each other with ropes and iron rings round their necks. All were naked, with the exception of a little piece of cloth round the loins, and some of the women had infants of a few weeks old strapped to their backs by means of this shred of cloth, while others carried baskets on their heads containing meal for the sustenance of the party during their journey.
In advance of the line marched a tall, powerfully-built half-caste, armed with a musket and small axe, and clad in a loose coat, short drawers reaching the knees, and straw hat. He was obviously the commander of the band. Behind him came several negroes, also armed with muskets, and with thick wands for the purpose of flagellation. These wore loin-cloths and turbans or red caps, but nothing more. They laughed, talked and strutted as they went along, forming a marked contrast to the silent and depressed slaves.
At intervals along the line, and in rear, there were stationed one or two of these drivers, who urged on their “cattle” with more or less cruelty, according to their individual impulses or natures.
We need scarcely say that this sight filled Harold and Disco not only with feelings of horror and pity, but with sensations of towering indignation that almost suffocated them. Those who only read of such things at home can form but a faint conception of what it is actually to behold them.
“We must fight!” muttered Harold between his teeth.
Disco could not speak, but he looked at his companion, and gave a nod that plainly indicated the state of his feelings.
“’Sh!” hissed Chimbolo, creeping up at that moment and laying his hand, which trembled violently, on Harold’s shoulder, “Marizano!”
“What! the scoundrel in advance?”
Chimbolo pointed to the leader of the slave-gang, and almost foamed at the mouth with suppressed rage.
At that moment their attention was attracted to a woman who walked immediately behind the slavers. She was a young and, according to African ideas, a comely girl, but was apparently very weak—so weak that she panted and stumbled as she went along, a circumstance which was accounted for by the little infant tied to her back, which could not have been more than a couple of weeks old. Stumbling against the fallen branch of a tree, she fell at last with a low wail to the ground, and made no effort, as on previous occasions, to recover herself.
The whole gang stopped, and Marizano, turning back, pushed the woman with his foot.
A fine-looking young man, who was the leader in a couple secured by a slave-stick, seemed to regard this woman with a degree of interest that argued near relationship. He started forward half involuntarily when the Portuguese half-caste kicked her. He had forgotten for an instant his fellow in rear, as well as the bar of the goree across his throat, which checked him violently; at the same time one of the drivers, who had observed the movement, laid a supple wand across his bare back so sharply as to draw forth a terrific yell of agony.
This was too much for Disco Lillihammer. Unable to restrain himself, he leaped up, seized his rifle by the muzzle with both hands, and, swinging it round his head, rushed upon Marizano with a bursting shout of rage and defiance.
It is probable that the half-caste leader, who was by no means destitute of courage, would have stood his ground had his assailant been a man of colour, but this unexpected apparition of a white man with a fiery countenance and blue eyes that absolutely flashed as he rushed forward with irresistible fury, was too much for him. Firing hastily, and with bad aim, Marizano turned and fled into the woods, followed by all his men. There was however a large band of Ajawa savages in rear, armed with bows and poisoned arrows. When he encountered these the Portuguese chief halted, and, rallying his men, took shelter behind trees and began to fire at the advancing enemy.
Seeing this, Harold drew his men together and made them fire a united volley, which had the effect of utterly routing the slavers. Disco meanwhile, finding that he could not overtake Marizano, at last did what he ought to have done at first—kneeled down, took deliberate aim at him, and fired. His agitation prevented accuracy of aim; nevertheless he succeeded in sending a bullet through the fleshy part of the man’s arm, above the elbow, which effectually put him to flight.
Returning to the slaves, who had been left standing where they were first stopped, in a state of great surprise and perplexity, he assisted his companions in freeing them. This was easy enough in regard to the women and children, but the gorees on the men were very difficult to remove. Being riveted, as we have said, it became necessary to split the forks with hatchets, an operation which endangered the heads of the poor captives and hurt their galled necks considerably. It was accomplished however in the midst of a deal of excitement and hurried conversation, while Jumbo and his comrades kindled fires, and Harold bade the women cook the meal—which they had hitherto carried—for themselves and their children. They seemed to consider this too good news to be true, but on being encouraged, began with alacrity.
“Don’t be afeared, lass,” cried Disco, patting a young woman on the head, “eat as much as ’ee like. You need it, poor thing, an’ stuff the childer till they can’t hold no more. Bu’st ’em if ’ee can. The slavers won’t come back here in a hurry. Ha! I only wish they would, an’ let us have a brush with ’em. But there’s no such luck. Cowards never fight ’xcept w’en they’re sure to win.—Now, piccaninny, here you are,” he said, stuffing some raw mapira meal into the open mouth of a thin little girl of about six or seven, who was gazing at him in open-eyed surprise; “don’t put off time, you’re half-starved already!”
The little black skeleton began to chew the dry meal with evident satisfaction, but without taking her eyes off her deliverer.
“Who are you?” asked a somewhat older girl of Harold, whom she regarded with looks of reverence and wonder.
Of course Harold did not understand her, but he immediately called Antonio, who translated.
“Who are you?” she said; “the other people tied and starved us, but you cut the ropes and tell us to eat; what sort of people are you? Where did you come from?”
To this Harold replied briefly that he was an Englishman, who hated slavers and slavery, but he said nothing more at that time, as he intended to have a palaver and explanation with the freed captives after their meal was over.
There was a great clapping of hands among the slaves, expressive of gratitude, on hearing that they were free.
About a hundred sat down to that meal, most of whom were women and children, and the manner in which they devoured the food set before them, told eloquently of their previous sufferings. At first they timidly held back, scarce venturing to believe that their new captors, as they thought them, were in earnest. But when their doubts and fears were removed, they attacked the mapira porridge like ravening wolves. Gradually the human element began to reappear, in the shape of a comment or a smile, and before long the women were chatting together, and a few of the stronger among the young children were making feeble attempts to play.
When the oldest man of the party, who appeared to be between twenty and thirty, was brought forward and questioned, he gave some interesting and startling information.
“Tell him,” said Harold to Antonio, “that we are Englishmen; that we belong to the same nation as the great white man Dr Livingstone, who travelled through this land some years ago—the nation which hates slavery because the Great God hates it, and would have all men to be free, to serve each other in love, and to do to other people as they would have other people do to them. Ask him, also, where he comes from, and who captured him and his companions.”
To this the negro replied— “What the white man says may be true, but the white men seem to tell lies too much. The men who killed our warriors, burned our villages, and took our women and children away, came to us saying that they were friends; that they were the servants of the same people as the white man Livingstone, and wanted to trade with us. When we believed and trusted them, and were off our guard, they fired on us with their guns. We know not what to think or to believe.”
Harold was much perplexed by this reply, for he knew not what evidence to cite in proof that he, at least was not a deceiver.
“Tell him,” he said at length, “that there are false white men as well as true, and that the best proof I can give him that I am one of the true is, to set him and his friends at liberty. They are now as free to go where they please as we are.”
On receiving this assurance the negro retired to consult with his friends. Meanwhile Antonio, who seemed to have been touched by the unvarying kindness with which he had been treated by his employers, opened his mind to them, and gave them a good deal of information, of which the substance is as follows:—
At that time the merchants of the Portuguese inland town of Tette, on the Zambesi, were carrying on the slave-trade with unusual vigour, for this reason, that they found it difficult to obtain ivory except in exchange for slaves. In former years they had carried on a trade in ivory with a tribe called the Banyai, these Banyai being great elephant-hunters, but it happened that they went to war with another tribe named the Matabele, who had managed to steal from them all their women and children. Consequently, the forlorn Banyai said to the Tette merchants, when they went to trade with them as they had been accustomed to do, “We do not want your merchandise. Bring us women and children, and you shall have as much ivory as you wish.”
These good people of Tette—being chiefly half-caste Portuguese, and under Portuguese government, and claiming, as they do, to be the possessors of that region of Africa—are so utterly incapable of holding their own, that they are under the necessity of paying tribute to a tribe of savages who come down annually to Tette to receive it, and who, but for that tribute, would, as they easily could, expel them from the land. These merchants of Tette, moreover, in common with all the Portuguese in Africa, are by the laws of Portugal prohibited from engaging in the export slave-trade. They are not, however, forbidden to engage temporarily in the “domestic slave-trade,” hence they had sent out slaving parties—in other words, robbers, kidnappers, murderers—who hired the warlike Ajawa tribe to aid them in killing the Manganja men, and robbing them of their wives and little ones, by which means they were enabled to supply the demand for such “cattle” among the Banyai, and thus obtained the desired supply of ivory! So vigorously had this slave traffic been carried on, at the time of which we write, that no fewer than two hundred people—mostly women and children—were carried out of the hill-country every week.
In a short time the negro returned to the place where Harold and Disco were seated, and said that he believed his white deliverers were true men, but added that he and his people had no home to go to; their village having been burnt, and all the old people and warriors killed or dispersed by Marizano, who was a terribly cruel man. In proof of this assertion he said that only the day before, Marizano had shot two of the women for attempting to untie their thongs; a man had been killed with an axe because he had broken-down with fatigue; and a woman had her infant’s brains dashed out because she was unable to carry it, as well as the load assigned to her.
“It is difficult to decide what one should do in these circumstances,” said Harold to Disco. “You know it would never do to leave these helpless people here to starve; but if we take them on with us our progress will be uncommonly slow.”
“We’d better take ’em back,” said Disco.
“Back! Where to?”
“W’y, to the last village wot we passed through. It ain’t more than a day’s march, an’ I’m sure the old feller as is capting of it would take care o’ the lot.”
“There is good advice in that, yet I grudge to go back,” said Harold; “if there were a village the same distance in advance, I would rather take them on.”
“But there ain’t,” returned Disco. “Hallo! I say, wot’s wrong with Tony?”
The interpreter came forward with a look of much excitement as he spoke.
“What now, Antonio?”
“Oh! it’s drefful,” replied the interpreter. “Dey tells me have hear Marizano speak ob anoder slaving party what go straight to Kambira’s village for attack it.”
“Who told you that? Are they sure?” asked Harold hastily.
“Two, t’ree mans tole me,” replied Antonio. “All say same ting. Too late to help him now, me’s ’fraid.”
“Never say too late,” cried Disco, starting up; “never say die while there’s a shot in the locker. It may be time enough yet if we only look sharp. I votes that we leave nearly all the provisions we have with these poor critters here; up anchor, ’bout ship, clap on all sail, and away this werry minit.”
Harold agreed with this advice heartily, and at once acted on it. The arrangements were quickly made, the provisions distributed, an explanation made, and in less than an hour the travellers were retracing their steps in hot haste.