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Black Ivory

by R. M. Ballantyne · English · Gutenberg #21748 · 543,136 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Black Ivory

Author: R. M. Ballantyne

Illustrator: Pearson


        
Release date: June 7, 2007 [eBook #21748]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21748

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK IVORY ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Black Ivory, by R.M. Ballantyne.

________________________________________________________________________

Although the book's title Black Ivory denotes dealing in the slave trade
it is not our heroes who are doing it.  At the very first chapter there
is a shipwreck, which leaves the son of the charterer of the sinking
ship, and a seaman friend of his, alone on the east coast of Africa,
where Arab and Portuguese slave traders were still carrying out their
evil trade, despite the great efforts of patrolling British warships to
limit it and free the unfortunates whom they found being carried away in
the Arab dhows.

Our heroes encountered a slave trader almost at the very spot where they
come ashore, and thereby managed to get to Zanzibar in a British warship
that had captured the trader's dhow in which our friends had hitched a
lift.

At Zanzibar they pick up some funds, and set forth on a journey into the
interior.  Here again they encounter the vile trade, but most of the
story deals with other encounters of a more acceptable nature.

This book will open your eyes to what really went on.  At the time of
writing slave-dealing on the west coast of Africa was, due to the
efforts of the British, almost extinct, but this was not the case on the
east coast.  Your reviewer found it very moving.

Makes a good audiobook, of about ten and a half hours duration.

________________________________________________________________________

BLACK IVORY, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.

In writing this book, my aim has been to give a true picture in outline
of the Slave Trade as it exists at the present time on the east coast of
Africa.

In order to do this I have selected from the most trustworthy sources
what I believe to be the most telling points of "the trade," and have
woven these together into a tale, the warp of which is composed of thick
cords of fact; the woof of slight lines of fiction, just sufficient to
hold the fabric together.  Exaggeration has easily been
avoided, because--as Dr Livingstone says in regard to the
slave-trade--"exaggeration is impossible."

If the reader's taste should be offended by finding the tragic and comic
elements in too close proximity I trust that he will bear in remembrance
that "such is life," and that the writer who would be true to life must
follow, not lead, nature.

I have to acknowledge myself indebted to Dr Ryan, late Bishop of
Mauritius; to the Rev.  Charles New, interpreter to the Livingstone
Search Expedition; to Edward Hutchinson, Esquire, Lay Secretary to the
Church Missionary Society, and others, for kindly furnishing me with
information in connexion with the slave trade.

Besides examining the Parliamentary Blue-books which treat of this
subject, I have read or consulted, among others, the various
authoritative works to which reference is made in the foot-notes
sprinkled throughout this book,--all of which works bear the strongest
possible testimony to the fact that the horrible traffic in human beings
is in all respects as bad at the present time on the east coast of
Africa as it ever was on the west coast in the days of Wilberforce.

I began my tale in the hope that I might produce something to interest
the young (perchance, also, the old) in a most momentous cause,--the
total abolition of the African slave-trade.  I close it with the prayer
that God may make it a tooth in the file which shall eventually cut the
chains of slavery, and set the black man free.

R.M. Ballantyne.

1873



CHAPTER ONE.

SHOWS THAT A GOOD BEGINNING MAY SOMETIMES BE FOLLOWED BY A BAD ENDING.

"Six feet water in the hold, sir!"

That would not have been a pleasant announcement to the captain of the
`Aurora' at any time, but its unpleasantness was vastly increased by the
fact that it greeted him near the termination of what had been, up to
that point of time, an exceedingly prosperous voyage.

"Are you sure, Davis?" asked the captain; "try again."

He gave the order under the influence of that feeling which is styled
"hoping against hope," and himself accompanied the ship's carpenter to
see it obeyed.

"Six feet two inches," was the result of this investigation.

The vessel, a large English brig, had sprung a leak, and was rolling
heavily in a somewhat rough sea off the east coast of Africa.  It was no
consolation to her captain that the shores of the great continent were
visible on his lee, because a tremendous surf roared along the whole
line of coast, threatening destruction to any vessel that should venture
to approach, and there was no harbour of refuge nigh.

"She's sinking fast, Mr Seadrift," said the captain to a stout
frank-looking youth of about twenty summers, who leant against the
bulwarks and gazed wistfully at the land; "the carpenter cannot find the
leak, and the rate at which the water is rising shows that she cannot
float long."

"What then do you propose to do?" inquired young Seadrift, with a
troubled expression of countenance.

"Abandon her," replied the captain.

"Well, _you_ may do so, captain, but I shall not forsake my father's
ship as long as she can float.  Why not beach her somewhere on the
coast?  By so doing we might save part of the cargo, and, at all events,
shall have done the utmost that lay in our power."

"Look at the coast," returned the captain; "where would you beach her?
No doubt there is smooth water inside the reef, but the channels through
it, if there be any here, are so narrow that it would be almost certain
death to make the attempt."

The youth turned away without replying.  He was sorely perplexed.  Just
before leaving England his father had said to him, "Harold, my boy,
here's your chance for paying a visit to the land you've read and talked
so much about, and wished so often to travel through.  I have chartered
a brig, and shall send her out to Zanzibar with a cargo of beads, cotton
cloth, brass wire, and such like: what say you to go as supercargo?  Of
course you won't be able to follow in the steps of Livingstone or Mungo
Park, but while the brig is at Zanzibar you will have an opportunity of
running across the channel, the island being only a few miles from the
main, and having a short run up-country to see the niggers, and
perchance have a slap at a hippopotamus.  I'll line your pockets, so
that you won't lack the sinews of war, without which travel either at
home or abroad is but sorry work, and I shall only expect you to give a
good account of ship and cargo on your return.--Come, is it fixed?"

Need we say that Harold leaped joyfully at the proposal?  And now, here
he was, called on to abandon the `Aurora' to her fate, as we have said,
near the end of a prosperous voyage.  No wonder that he was perplexed.

The crew were fully aware of the state of matters.  By the captain's
orders they stood ready to lower the two largest boats, into which they
had put much of their worldly goods and provisions as they could hold
with safety.

"Port, port your helm," said the captain to the man at the wheel.

"Port it is, sir," replied the man at the wheel, who was one of those
broad-shouldered, big-chested, loose-garmented, wide-trousered,
bare-necked, free-and-easy, off-hand jovial tars who have done so much,
in years gone by, to increase the wealth and prosperity of the British
Empire, and who, although confessedly scarce, are considerately allowed
to perish in hundreds annually on our shores for want of a little
reasonable legislation.  But cheer up, ye jolly tars!  There is a
glimmer of sunrise on your political horizon.  It really does seem as
if, in regard to you, there were at last "a good time coming."

"Port, port," repeated the captain, with a glance at the compass and the
sky.

"Port it is, sir," again replied the jovial one.

"Steady!  Lower away the boat, lads.--Now, Mr Seadrift," said the
captain, turning with an air of decision to the young supercargo, "the
time has come for you to make up your mind.  The water is rising in the
hold, and the ship is, as you see, settling fast down.  I need not say
to you that it is with the utmost regret I find it necessary to abandon
her; but self-preservation and the duty I owe to my men render the step
absolutely necessary.  Do you intend to go with us?"

"No, captain, I don't," replied Harold Seadrift firmly.  "I do not blame
you for consulting your own safety, and doing what you believe to be
your duty, but I have already said that I shall stick by the ship as
long as she can float."

"Well, sir, I regret it but you must do as you think best," replied the
captain, turning away--"Now, lads, jump in."

The men obeyed, but several of those who were last to quit the ship
looked back and called to the free-and-easy man who still stood at the
wheel--"Come along, Disco; we'll have to shove off directly."

"Shove off w'en you please," replied the man at the wheel, in a deep
rich voice, whose tones were indicative of a sort of good-humoured
contempt; "wot I means for to do is to stop where I am.  It'll never be
said of Disco Lillihammer that he forsook the owner's son in distress."

"But you'll go to the bottom, man, if you don't come."

"Well, wot if I do?  I'd raither go to the bottom with a brave man, than
remain at the top with a set o' fine fellers like _you_!"

Some of the men received this reply with a laugh, others frowned, and a
few swore, while some of them looked regretfully at their self-willed
shipmate; for it must not be supposed that _all_ the tars who float upon
the sea are of the bold, candid, open-handed type, though we really
believe that a large proportion of them are so.

Be this as it may, the boats left the brig, and were soon far astern.

"Thank you, Lillihammer," said Harold, going up and grasping the horny
hand of the self-sacrificing sea-dog.  "This is very kind of you, though
I fear it may cost you your life.  But it is too late to talk of that;
we must fix on some plan, and act at once."

"The werry thing, sir," said Disco quietly, "that wos runnin' in my own
mind, 'cos it's werry clear that we hain't got too many minits to spare
in confabilation."

"Well, what do you suggest?"

"Arter you, sir," said Disco, pulling his forelock; "you are capting
now, an' ought to give orders."

"Then I think the best thing we can do," rejoined Harold, "is to make
straight for the shore, search for an opening in the reef, run through,
and beach the vessel on the sand.  What say you?"

"As there's nothin' else left for us to do," replied Disco, "that's
'zactly wot I think too, an' the sooner we does it the better."

"Down with the helm, then," cried Harold, springing forward, "and I'll
ease off the sheets."

In a few minutes the `Aurora' was surging before a stiff breeze towards
the line of foam which indicated the outlying reef, and inside of which
all was comparatively calm.

"If we only manage to get inside," said Harold, "we shall do well."

Disco made no reply.  His whole attention was given to steering the
brig, and running his eyes anxiously along the breakers, the sound of
which increased to a thunderous roar as they drew near.

"There seems something like a channel yonder," said Harold, pointing
anxiously to a particular spot in the reef.

"I see it, sir," was the curt reply.

A few minutes more of suspense, and the brig drove into the supposed
channel, and struck with such violence that the foremast snapped off
near the deck, and went over the side.

"God help us, we're lost!" exclaimed Harold, as a towering wave lifted
the vessel up and hurled her like a plaything on the rocks.

"Stand by to jump, sir," cried Disco.  Another breaker came roaring in
at the moment, overwhelmed the brig, rolled her over on her beam-ends,
and swept the two men out of her.  They struggled gallantly to free
themselves from the wreck, and, succeeding with difficulty, swam across
the sheltered water to the shore, on which they finally landed.

Harold's first exclamation was one of thankfulness for their
deliverance, to which Disco replied with a hearty "Amen!" and then
turning round and surveying the coast, while he slowly thrust his hands
into his wet trouser-pockets, wondered whereabouts in the world they had
got to.

"To the east coast of Africa, to be sure," observed the young
supercargo, with a slight smile, as he wrung the water out of the foot
of his trousers, "the place we were bound for, you know."

"Werry good; so here we are--come to an anchor!  Well, I only wish," he
added, sitting down on a piece of driftwood, and rummaging in the
pockets before referred to, as if in search of something--"I only wish
I'd kep' on my weskit, 'cause all my 'baccy's there, and it would be a
rael comfort to have a quid in the circumstances."

It was fortunate for the wrecked voyagers that the set of the current
had carried portions of their vessel to the shore, at a considerable
distance from the spot where they had landed, because a band of natives,
armed with spears and bows and arrows, had watched the wreck from the
neighbouring heights, and had hastened to that part of the coast on
which they knew from experience the cargo would be likely to drift.  The
heads of the swimmers being but small specks in the distance, had
escaped observation.  Thus they had landed unseen.  The spot was near
the entrance to a small river or creek, which was partially concealed by
the formation of the land and by mangrove trees.

Harold was the first to observe that they had not been cast on an
uninhabited shore.  While gazing round him, and casting about in his
mind what was best to be done, he heard shouts, and hastening to a rocky
point that hid part of the coast from his view looked cautiously over it
and saw the natives.  He beckoned to Disco, who joined him.

"They haven't a friendly look about 'em," observed the seaman, "and
they're summat scant in the matter of clothin'."

"Appearances are often deceptive," returned his companion, "but I so far
agree with you that I think our wisest course will be to retire into the
woods, and there consult as to our future proceedings, for it is quite
certain that as we cannot live on sand and salt water, neither can we
safely sleep in wet clothes or on the bare ground in a climate like
this."

Hastening towards the entrance to the creek, the unfortunate pair
entered the bushes, through which they pushed with some difficulty,
until they gained a spot sufficiently secluded for their purpose, when
they observed that they had passed through a belt of underwood, beyond
which there appeared to be an open space.  A few steps further and they
came out on a sort of natural basin formed by the creek, in which
floated a large boat of a peculiar construction, with very
piratical-looking lateen sails.  Their astonishment at this unexpected
sight was increased by the fact that on the opposite bank of the creek
there stood several men armed with muskets, which latter were
immediately pointed at their breasts.

The first impulse of the shipwrecked friends was to spring back into the
bushes--the second to advance and hold up their empty hands to show that
they were unarmed.

"Hold on," exclaimed Disco, in a free and easy confidential tone; "we're
friends, we are; shipwrecked mariners we is, so ground arms, my lads,
an' make your minds easy."

One of the men made some remark to another, who, from his Oriental
dress, was easily recognised by Harold as one of the Arab traders of the
coast.  His men appeared to be half-castes.

The Arab nodded gravely, and said something which induced his men to
lower their muskets.  Then with a wave of his hand he invited the
strangers to come over the creek to him.

This was rendered possible by the breadth of the boat already mentioned
being so great that, while one side touched the right bank of the creek,
the other was within four or five feet of the left.

Without hesitation Harold Seadrift bounded lightly from the bank to the
half-deck of the boat, and, stepping ashore, walked up to the Arab,
closely followed by his companion.

"Do you speak English?" asked Harold.

The Arab shook his head and said, "Arabic, Portuguese."

Harold therefore shook _his_ head;--then, with a hopeful look, said
"French?" interrogatively.

The Arab repeated the shake of his head, but after a moments' thought
said, "I know littil Engleesh; speak, where comes you?"

"We have been wrecked," began Harold (the Arab glanced gravely at his
dripping clothes, as if to say, I had guessed as much), "and this man
and I are the only survivors of the crew of our ship--at least the only
two who swam on shore, the others went off in a boat."

"Come you from man-of-war?" asked the Arab, with a keen glance at the
candid countenance of the youth.

"No, our vessel was a trader bound for Zanzibar.  She now lies in
fragments on the shore, and we have escaped with nothing but the clothes
on our backs.  Can you tell us whether there is a town or a village in
the neighbourhood? for, as you see, we stand sadly in need of clothing,
food, and shelter.  We have no money, but we have good muscles and stout
hearts, and could work our way well enough, I doubt not."

Young Seadrift said this modestly, but the remark was unnecessary, for
it would have been quite obvious to a man of much less intelligence than
the Arab that a youth who, although just entering on the age of manhood,
was six feet high, deep-chested, broad-shouldered, and as lithe as a
kitten, could not find any difficulty in working his way, while his
companion, though a little older, was evidently quite as capable.

"There be no town, no village, for fifty miles from where you stand,"
replied the Arab.

"Indeed!" exclaimed Harold in surprise, for he had always supposed the
East African coast to be rather populous.

"That's a blue look-out anyhow," observed Disco, "for it necessitates
starvation, unless this good gentleman will hire us to work his craft.
It ain't very ship-shape to be sure, but anything of a seagoin' craft
comes more or less handy to an old salt."

The trader listened with the politeness and profound gravity that seems
to be characteristic of Orientals, but by no sign or expression showed
whether he understood what was said.

"_I_ go to Zanzibar," said he, turning to Harold, "and will take you,--
so you wish."

There was something sinister in the man's manner which Harold did not
like, but as he was destitute, besides being in the Arab's power, and
utterly ignorant of the country, he thought it best to put a good face
on matters, and therefore thanked him for his kind offer, and assured
him that on reaching Zanzibar he would be in a position to pay for his
passage as well as that of his friend.

"May I ask," continued Harold, "what your occupation is?"

"I am trader."

Harold thought he would venture another question:--

"In what sort of goods do you trade?"

"Ivory.  Some be white, an' some be what your contrymans do call black."

"Black!" exclaimed Harold, in surprise.

"Yees, black," replied the trader.  "White ivory do come from the
elephant--hims tusk; Black Ivory do come,"--he smiled slightly at this
point--"from the land everywheres.  It bees our chef artikil of trade."

"Indeed!  I never heard of it before."

"No?" replied the trader; "you shall see it much here.  But I go talk
with my mans.  Wait."

Saying this, in a tone which savoured somewhat unpleasantly of command,
the Arab went towards a small hut near to which his men were standing,
and entered into conversation with them.

It was evident that they were ill pleased with what he said at first for
there was a good deal of remonstrance in their tones, while they pointed
frequently in a certain direction which seemed to indicate the
coast-line; but by degrees their tones changed, and they laughed and
chuckled a good deal, as if greatly tickled by the speech of the Arab,
who, however, maintained a look of dignified gravity all the time.

"I don't like the looks o' them fellers," remarked Disco, after
observing them in silence for some time.  "They're a cut-throat set, I'm
quite sure, an' if you'll take my advice, Mister Seadrift, we'll give
'em the slip, an' try to hunt up one o' the native villages.  I
shouldn't wonder, now, if that chap was a slave-trader."

"The same idea has occurred to myself, Disco," replied Harold, "and I
would willingly leave him if I thought there was a town or village
within twenty miles of us; but we are ignorant on that point and I have
heard enough of the African climate to believe that it might cost us our
lives if we were obliged to spend a night in the jungle without fire,
food, or covering, and with nothing on but a wet flannel shirt and pair
of canvas breeches.  No, no, lad, we must not risk it.  Besides,
although some Arabs are slave-traders, it does not follow that all are.
This fellow may turn out better than he looks."

Disco Lillihammer experienced some sensations of surprise on hearing his
young friend's remarks on the climate, for he knew nothing whatever
about that of Africa, having sailed chiefly in the Arctic Seas as a
whaler,--and laboured under the delusion that no climate under the sun
could in any degree affect his hardy and well-seasoned frame.  He was
too respectful, however, to let his thoughts be known.

Meanwhile the Arab returned.

"I sail this night," he said, "when moon go down.  That not far before
midnight.  You mus keep by boat here--close.  If you go this way or that
the niggers kill you.  They not come _here_; they know I is here.  I go
look after my goods and chattels--my Black Ivory."

"Mayn't we go with 'ee, mister--what's your name?"

"My name?--Yoosoof," replied the Arab, in a tone and with a look which
were meant to command respect.

"Well, Mister Yoosoof," continued Disco, "if we may make bold to ax
leave for to go with 'ee, we could lend 'ee a helpin' hand, d'ye see, to
carry yer goods an' chattels down to the boat."

"There is no need," said Yoosoof, waving his hand, and pointing to the
hut before mentioned.  "Go; you can rest till we sail.  Sleep; you will
need it.  There is littil rice in hut--eat that, and make fire, dry
youselfs."

So saying, the Arab left them by a path leading into the woods, along
which his men, who were Portuguese half-castes, had preceded him.

"Make fire indeed!" exclaimed Disco, as he walked with his companion to
the hut; "one would think, from the free-and-easy way in which he tells
us to make it, that he's in the habit himself of striking it out o' the
point o' his own nose, or some such convenient fashion."

"More likely to flash it out of his eyes, I should think," said Harold;
"but, see here, the fellow knew what he was talking about.  There is
fire among these embers on the hearth."

"That's true," replied Disco, going down on his knees, and blowing them
carefully.

In a few minutes a spark leaped into a flame, wood was heaped on, and
the flame speedily became a rousing fire, before which they dried their
garments, while a pot of rice was put on to boil.

Scarcely had they proceeded thus far in their preparations, when two
men, armed with muskets, were seen to approach, leading a negro girl
between them.  As they drew nearer, it was observable that the girl had
a brass ring round her neck, to which a rope was attached.

"A slave!" exclaimed Disco vehemently, while the blood rushed to his
face; "let's set her free!"

The indignant seaman had half sprung to his legs before Harold seized
and pulled him forcibly back.

"Be quiet man," said Harold quickly.  "If we _could_ free her by
fighting, I would help you, but we can't.  Evidently we have got into a
nest of slavers.  Rashness will only bring about our own death.  Be
wise; bide your time, and we may live to do some good yet."

He stopped abruptly, for the new comers had reached the top of the
winding path that led to the hut.

A look of intense surprise overspread the faces of the two men when they
entered and saw the Englishmen sitting comfortably by the fire, and
both, as if by instinct threw forward the muzzles of their muskets.

"Oh! come in, come in, make your minds easy," cried Disco, in a
half-savage tone, despite the warning he had received; "we're all
_friends_ here--leastwise we can't help ourselves."

Fortunately for our mariner the men did not understand him, and before
they could make up their minds what to think of it, or how to act Harold
rose, and, with a polite bow, invited them to enter.

"Do you understand English?" he asked.

A frown, and a decided shake of the head from both men, was the reply.
The poor negro girl cowered behind her keepers, as if she feared that
violence were about to ensue.

Having tried French with a like result, Harold uttered the name,
"Yoosoof," and pointed in the direction in which the trader had entered
the woods.

The men looked intelligently at each other, and nodded.

Then Harold said "Zanzibar," and pointed in the direction in which he
supposed that island lay.

Again the men glanced at each other, and nodded.  Harold next said
"Boat--dhow," and pointed towards the creek, which remark and sign were
received as before.

"Good," he continued, slapping himself on the chest, and pointing to his
companion, "_I_ go to Zanzibar, _he_ goes, _she_ goes," (pointing to the
girl), "_you_ go, and Yoosoof goes--all in the dhow together to
Zanzibar--to-night--when moon goes down.  D'ee understand?  Now then,
come along and have some rice."

He finished up by slapping one of the men on the shoulder, and lifting
the kettle off the fire, for the rice had already been cooked and only
wanted warming.

The men looked once again at each other, nodded, laughed, and sat down
on a log beside the fire, opposite to the Englishmen.

They were evidently much perplexed by the situation, and, not knowing
what to make of it, were disposed in the meantime to be friendly.

While they were busy with the rice, Disco gazed in silent wonder, and
with intense pity, at the slave-girl, who sat a little to one side of
her guardians on a mat, her small hands folded together resting on one
knee, her head drooping, and her eyes cast down.  The enthusiastic tar
found it very difficult to restrain his feelings.  He had heard, of
course, more or less about African slavery from shipmates, but he had
never read about it, and had never seriously given his thoughts to it,
although his native sense of freedom, justice, and fair-play had roused
a feeling of indignation in his breast whenever the subject chanced to
be discussed by him and his mates.  But now, for the first time in his
life, suddenly and unexpectedly, he was brought face to face with
slavery.  No wonder that he was deeply moved.

"Why, Mister Seadrift," he said, in the confidential tone of one who
imparts a new discovery, "I do honestly confess to 'ee that I think
that's a _pretty_ girl!"

"I quite agree with you," replied Harold, smiling.

"Ay, but I mean _really_ pretty, you know.  I've always thought that all
niggers had ugly flat noses an' thick blubber lips.  But look at that
one: her lips are scarce a bit thicker than those of many a good-looking
lass in England, and they don't stick out at all, and her nose ain't
flat a bit.  It's quite as good as my Nancy's nose, an' that's sayin' a
good deal, _I_ tell 'ee.  Moreover, she ain't black--she's brown."

It is but justice to Disco to say that he was right in his observations,
and to explain that the various negro tribes in Africa differ very
materially from each other; some of them, as we are told by Dr
Livingstone, possessing little of what, in our eyes, seems the
characteristic ugliness of the negro--such as thick lips, flat noses,
protruding heels, etcetera,--but being in every sense handsome races of
humanity.

The slave-girl whom Disco admired and pitied so much belonged to one of
these tribes, and, as was afterwards ascertained, had been brought from
the far interior.  She appeared to be very young, nevertheless there was
a settled expression of meek sorrow and suffering on her face; and
though handsomely formed, she was extremely thin, no doubt from
prolonged hardships on the journey down to the coast.

"Here, have somethin' to eat," exclaimed Disco, suddenly filling a tin
plate with rice, and carrying it to the girl, who, however, shook her
head without raising her eyes.

"You're not hungry, poor thing," said the seaman, in a disappointed
tone; "you look as if you should be.  Come, try it," he added, stooping,
and patting her head.

The poor child looked up as if frightened, and shrank from the seaman's
touch, but on glancing a second time in his honest face, she appeared to
feel confidence in him.  Nevertheless, she would not touch the rice
until her guardians said something to her sternly, when she began to eat
with an appetite that was eloquent.

"Come, now, tell us what your name is, lass," said Disco, when she had
finished the rice.

Of course the girl shook her head, but appeared to wish to understand
the question, while the Portuguese laughed and seemed amused with the
Englishman's eccentricities.

"Look here, now," resumed the tar, slapping his own chest vigorously,
"Disco, Disco, Disco, that's me--Disco.  And this man," (patting his
companion on the breast) "is Harold, Harold, that's him--Harold.  Now,
then," he added, pointing straight at the girl, "you--what's you name,
eh?"

A gleam of intelligence shot from the girl's expressive eyes, and she
displayed a double row of beautiful teeth as in a low soft voice she
said--"Azinte."

"Azinte? come, that's not a bad name; why, it's a capital one.  Just
suited to 'ee.  Well, Azinte, my poor girl," said Disco, with a fresh
outburst of feeling, as he clenched his horny right hand and dashed it
into the palm of his left, "if I only knew how to set you free just now,
my dear, I'd do it--ay, if I was to be roasted alive for so doin'.  I
would!"

"You'll never set anybody free in this world," said Harold Seadrift,
with some severity, "if you go on talking and acting as you have done
to-day.  If these men had not, by good fortune, been ignorant of our
language, it's my opinion that they would have blown our brains out
before this time.  You should restrain yourself, man," he continued,
gradually dropping into a remonstrative and then into an earnestly
confidential tone; "we are utterly helpless just now.  If you did
succeed in freeing that girl at this moment, it would only be to let her
fall into the hands of some other slave-owner.  Besides, that would not
set free all the other slaves, male and female, who are being dragged
from the interior of Africa.  You and I _may_ perhaps do some small
matter in the way of helping to free slaves, if we keep quiet and watch
our opportunity, but we shall accomplish nothing if you give way to
useless bursts of anger."

Poor Lillihammer was subdued.

"You're right Mister Seadrift, you're right, sir, and I'm a ass.  I
never _could_ keep my feelings down.  It's all along of my havin' bin
made too much of by my mother, dear old woman, w'en I was a boy.  But
I'll make a effort, sir; I'll clap a stopper on 'em--bottle 'em up and
screw 'em down tight, werry tight indeed."

Disco again sent his right fist into the palm of his left hand, with
something like the sound of a pistol-shot to the no small surprise and
alarm of the Portuguese, and, rising, went out to cool his heated brow
in the open air.



CHAPTER TWO.

YOOSOOF'S "BLACK IVORY."

When Yoosoof entered the woods, as before stated, for the purpose of
looking after his property, he followed a narrow footpath for about half
a mile, which led him to another part of the same creek, at the entrance
of which we introduced him to the reader.  Here, under the deep shadow
of umbrageous trees, floated five large Arab boats, or dhows, similar to
the one which has been already referred to.  They were quite empty, and
apparently unguarded, for when Yoosoof went down the bank and stood on a
projecting rock which overlooked them, no one replied to his low-toned
hail.  Repeating it once, and still receiving no answer, he sat quietly
down on the rocks, lighted a small pipe, and waited patiently.

The boats, as we have said, were empty, but there were some curious
appliances in them, having the appearance of chains, and wristlets, and
bars of iron running along and fixed to their decks, or rather to the
flooring of their holds.  Their long yards and sails were cleared and
ready for hoisting.

After the lapse of ten or fifteen minutes, Yoosoof raised his head--for
he had been meditating deeply, if one might judge from his attitude--and
glanced in the direction of an opening in the bushes whence issued a
silent and singular train of human beings.  They were negroes, secured
by the necks or wrists--men, women, and children,--and guarded by armed
half-caste Portuguese.  When a certain number of them, about a hundred
or so, had issued from the wood, and crowded the banks of the creek,
they were ordered to stand still, and the leader of the band advanced
towards his master.

These were some of Yoosoof's "goods and chattels," his "cattle," his
"black ivory."

"You have been long in coming, Moosa," said the Arab trader, as the man
approached.

"I have," replied Moosa, somewhat gruffly, "but the road was rough and
long, and the cattle were ill-conditioned, as you see."

The two men spoke in the Portuguese tongue, but as the natives and
settlers on that coast speak a variety of languages and dialects, we
have no alternative, good reader, but to render all into English.

"Make the more haste now," said Yoosoof; "get them shipped at once, for
we sail when the moon goes down.  Pick out the weakest among the lot,
those most likely to die, and put them by themselves in the small dhow.
If we _must_ sacrifice some of our wares to these meddling dogs the
English, we may as well give them the refuse."

Without remark, Moosa turned on his heel and proceeded to obey orders.

Truly, to one unaccustomed to such scenes, it would have appeared that
all the negroes on the spot were "most likely to die," for a more
wretched, starved set of human beings could scarcely be imagined.  They
had just terminated a journey on foot of several hundreds of miles, with
insufficient food and under severe hardships.  Nearly all of them were
lean to a degree,--many so reduced that they resembled nothing but
skeletons with a covering of black leather.  Some of the children were
very young, many of them mere infants, clinging to the backs of the poor
mothers, who had carried them over mountain and plain, through swamp and
jungle, in blistering sunshine and pelting rain for many weary days.
But prolonged suffering had changed the nature of these little ones.
They were as silent and almost as intelligently anxious as their
seniors.  There were no old pieces of merchandise there.  Most were
youthful or in the prime of life; a few were middle-aged.

Difficult though the task appeared to be, Moosa soon selected about
fifty men and women and a few children, who were so fearfully emaciated
that their chance of surviving appeared but small.  These were cast
loose and placed in a sitting posture in the hold of the smallest dhow,
as close together as they could be packed.

Their removal from the bank made room for more to issue from the wood,
which they did in a continuous stream.  Batch after batch was cast loose
and stowed away in the manner already described, until the holds of two
of the large boats were filled, each being capable of containing about
two hundred souls.  This was so far satisfactory to Yoosoof, who had
expended a good deal of money on the venture--satisfactory, even
although he had lost a large proportion of the goods--four-fifths at
least if not more, by death and otherwise, on the way down to the coast;
but that was a matter of little consequence.  The price of black ivory
was up in the market just at that time, and the worthy merchant could
stand a good deal of loss.

The embarkation was effected with wonderful celerity, and in comparative
silence.  Only the stern voices of the half-caste Portuguese were heard
as they ordered the slaves to move, mingled with the occasional clank of
a chain, but no sounds proceeded from the thoroughly subdued and
worn-out slaves louder than a sigh or a half-suppressed wail, with now
and then a shriek of pain when some of the weaker among them were
quickened into activity by the lash.

When all had been embarked, two of the five boats still remained empty,
but Yoosoof had a pretty good idea of the particular points along the
coast where more "cattle" of a similar kind could be purchased.
Therefore, after stationing some of his men, armed with muskets, to
guard the boats, he returned with the remainder of them to the hut in
which the Englishmen had been left.

There he found Azinte and her guardians.  He seemed angry with the
latter at first, but after a few minutes' thought appeared to recover
his equanimity, and ordered the men to remove the ropes with which the
girl was tethered; then bidding her follow him he left the hut without
taking any notice of the Englishmen further than to say he would be back
shortly before the time of sailing.

Yoosoof's motions were usually slow and his mien somewhat dignified,
but, when occasion required, he could throw off his Oriental dignity and
step out with the activity of a monkey.  It was so on this occasion,
insomuch that Azinte was obliged occasionally to run in order to keep up
with him.  Proceeding about two miles in the woods along the shore
without halt, he came out at length on the margin of a bay, at the head
of which lay a small town.  It was a sorry-looking place, composed of
wretchedly built houses, most of which were thatched with the leaves of
the cocoa-nut palm.

Nevertheless, such as it was, it possessed a mud fort, an army of about
thirty soldiers, composed of Portuguese convicts who had been sent there
as a punishment for many crimes, a Governor, who was understood to be
honourable, having been placed there by his Excellency the
Governor-General at Mozambique, who had been himself appointed by His
Most Faithful Majesty the King of Portugal.

It was in quest of this Governor that Yoosoof bent his rapid steps.
Besides all the advantages above enumerated, the town drove a small
trade in ivory, ebony, indigo, orchella weed, gum copal, cocoa-nut oil,
and other articles of native produce, and a very large (though secret)
trade in human bodies and--we had almost written--souls, but the worthy
people who dwelt there could not fetter souls, although they could, and
very often did, set them free.

Senhor Francisco Alfonso Toledo Bignoso Letotti, the Governor, was
seated at the open window of his parlour, just before Yoosoof made his
appearance, conversing lightly with his only daughter, the Senhorina
Maraquita, a beautiful brunette of about eighteen summers, who had been
brought up and educated in Portugal.

The Governor's wife had died a year before this time in Madrid, and the
Senhorina had gone to live with her father on the east coast of Africa,
at which place she had arrived just six weeks previous to the date of
the opening of our tale.

Among the various boats and vessels at anchor in the bay, were seen the
tapering masts of a British war-steamer.  The Senhorina and her sire
were engaged in a gossiping criticism of the officers of this vessel
when Yoosoof was announced.  Audience was immediately granted.

Entering the room, with Azinte close behind him, the Arab stopped
abruptly on beholding Maraquita, and bowed gravely.

"Leave us, my child," said the Governor, in Portuguese; "I have business
to transact with this man."

"And why may not I stay to assist you, father, in this wonderful
man-mystery of transacting business?" asked Maraquita, with an arch
smile.

"Whenever you men want to get rid of women you frighten them away with
_business_!  If you wish not to explain something to us, you shake your
wise heads, and call it _business_!  Is it not so?--Come, Arab," she
added, turning with a sprightly air to Yoosoof, "you are a trader, I
suppose; all Arabs are, I am told.  Well, what sort of wares have you
got to sell?"

Yoosoof smiled slightly as he stepped aside and pointed to Azinte.

The speaking countenance of the Portuguese girl changed as if by magic.
She had seen little and thought little about slavery during the brief
period of her residence on the coast, and had scarcely realised the fact
that Sambo, with the thick lips--her father's gardener--or the black
cook and house-maids, were slaves.  It was the first entrance of a new
idea with something like power into her mind when she saw a delicate,
mild-looking, and pretty negro girl actually offered for sale.

Before she could bethink herself of any remark the door opened, and in
walked, unannounced, a man on whose somewhat handsome countenance
villainy was clearly stamped.

"Ha!  Marizano," exclaimed Senhor Letotti, rising, "you have thought
better of it, I presume?"

"I have, and I agree to your arrangement," replied Marizano, in an
off-hand, surly tone.

"There is nothing like necessity," returned the Governor, with a laugh.
"'Twere better to enjoy a roving life for a short time with a lightish
purse in one's pocket, than to attempt to keep a heavy purse with the
addition of several ounces of lead in one's breast!  How say you?"

Marizano smiled and shrugged his broad shoulders, but made no reply, for
just then his attention had been attracted to the slave-girl.

"For sale?" he inquired of the Arab carelessly.

Yoosoof bowed his head slightly.

"How much?"

"Come, come, gentlemen," interposed the Governor, with a laugh and a
glance at his daughter, "you can settle this matter elsewhere.  Yoosoof
has come here to talk with me on other matters.--Now, Maraquita dear,
you had better retire for a short time."

When the Senhorina had somewhat unwillingly obeyed, the Governor turned
to Yoosoof: "I presume you have no objection to Marizano's presence
during our interview, seeing that he is almost as well acquainted with
your affairs as yourself?"

As Yoosoof expressed no objection, the three drew their chairs together
and sat down to a prolonged private and very interesting palaver.

We do not mean to try the reader's patience by dragging him through the
whole of it; nevertheless, a small portion of what was said is essential
to the development of our tale.

"Well, then, be it as you wish, Yoosoof," said the Governor, folding up
a fresh cigarette; "you are one of the most active traders on the coast,
and never fail to keep correct accounts with your Governor.  You deserve
encouragement but I fear that you run considerable risk."

"I know that; but those who make much must risk much."

"Bravo!" exclaimed Marizano, with hearty approval; "nevertheless those
who risk most do not always make most.  Contrast yourself with me, now.
You risk your boats and cattle, and become rich.  I risk my life, and
behold!  I am fleeced.  I have little or nothing left, barely enough to
buy yonder girl from you--though I _think_ I have enough for that."

He pointed as he spoke to Azinte, who still stood on the spot where she
had been left near the door.

"Tell me," resumed Senhor Letotti, "how do you propose to elude the
English cruiser? for I know that her captain has got wind of your
whereabouts, and is determined to watch the coast closely--and let me
tell you, he is a vigorous, intelligent man."

"You tell me he has a number of captured slaves already in his ship?"
said Yoosoof.

"Yes, some hundreds, I believe."

"He must go somewhere to land these, I presume?" rejoined the Arab.

Yoosoof referred here to the fact that when a British cruiser engaged in
the suppression of the slave-trade on the east coast of Africa has
captured a number of slaves, she is under the necessity of running to
the Seychelles Islands, Aden, or some other British port of discharge,
to land them there as free men, because, were she to set them free on
any part of the coast of Africa, belonging either to Portugal or the
Sultan of Zanzibar, they would certainly be recaptured and again
enslaved.  When therefore the cruisers are absent--it may be two or
three weeks on this duty, the traders in human flesh of course make the
most of their opportunity to run cargoes of slaves to those ports in
Arabia and Persia where they always find a ready market.

On the present occasion Yoosoof conceived that the captain of the
`Firefly' might be obliged to take this course to get rid of the negroes
already on board, who were of course consuming his provisions, besides
being an extremely disagreeable cargo, many of them being diseased and
covered with sores, owing to their cruel treatment on board the
slave-dhows.

"He won't go, however, till he has hunted the coast north and south for
you, so he assures me," said the Governor, with a laugh.

"Well, I must start to-night, therefore I shall give him a small pill to
swallow which will take him out of the way," said Yoosoof, rising to
leave the room.

"I wish you both success," said the Governor, as Marizano also rose to
depart, "but I fear that you will find the Englishman very
troublesome.--Adieu."

The Arab and the half-caste went out talking earnestly together, and
followed by Azinte, and immediately afterwards the Senhorina Maraquita
entered hurriedly.

"Father, you must buy that slave-girl for me.  I want a pretty slave all
to myself," she said, with unwonted vehemence.

"Impossible, my child," replied the Governor kindly, for he was very
fond as well as proud of his daughter.

"Why impossible?  Have you not enough of money?"

"Oh yes, plenty of that, but I fear she is already bespoken, and I
should not like to interfere--"

"Bespoken! do you mean sold?" cried Maraquita, seizing her father's
hands, "not sold to that man Marizano?"

"I think she must be by this time, for he's a prompt man of business,
and not easily thwarted when he sets his mind to a thing."

The Senhorina clasped her hands before her eyes, and stood for a moment
motionless, then rushing wildly from the room she passed into another
apartment the windows of which commanded a view of a considerable part
of the road which led from the house along the shore.  There she saw the
Arab and his friend walking leisurely along as if in earnest converse,
while Azinte followed meekly behind.

The Senhorina stood gazing at them with clenched hands, in an agony of
uncertainty as to what course she ought to pursue, and so wrapt up in
her thoughts that she failed to observe a strapping young lieutenant of
H.M.S. steamer `Firefly,' who had entered the room and stood close to
her side.

Now this same lieutenant happened to be wildly in love with Senhorina
Maraquita.  He had met her frequently at her father's table, where, in
company with his captain, he was entertained with great hospitality, and
on which occasions the captain was assisted by the Governor in his
investigations into the slave-trade.

Lieutenant Lindsay had taken the romantic plunge with all the charming
enthusiasm of inexperienced youth, and entertained the firm conviction
that, if Senhorina Maraquita did not become "his," life would
thenceforth be altogether unworthy of consideration; happiness would be
a thing of the past, with which he should have nothing more to do, and
death at the cannon's mouth, or otherwise, would be the only remaining
gleam of comfort in his dingy future.

"Something distresses you, I fear," began the lieutenant, not a little
perplexed to find the young lady in such a peculiar mood.

Maraquita started, glanced at him a moment, and then, with flashing eyes
and heightened colour, pointed at the three figures on the road.

"Yes, Senhor," she said; "I am distressed--deeply so.  Look! do you see
yonder two men, and the girl walking behind them?"

"I do."

"Quick! fly after them and bring them hither--the Arab and the girl I
mean--not the other man.  Oh, be quick, else they will be out of sight
and then she will be lost; quick, if you--if--if you really mean what
you have so often told me."

Poor Lindsay!  It was rather a sudden and severe test of fidelity to be
sent forth to lay violent hands on a man and woman and bring them
forcibly to the Governor's house, without any better reason than that a
self-willed girl ordered him so to do; at the same time, he perceived
that, if he did not act promptly, the retreating figures would soon turn
into the town, and be hopelessly beyond his power of recognition.

"But--but--" he stammered, "if they won't come--?"

"They _must_ come.  Threaten my father's high displeasure.--Quick,
Senhor," cried the young lady in a commanding tone.

Lindsay flung open the casement and leapt through it as being the
shortest way out of the house, rushed with undignified speed along the
road, and overtook the Arab and his friend as they were about to turn
into one of the narrow lanes of the town.

"Pardon me," said the lieutenant laying his hand on Yoosoof's shoulder
in his anxiety to make sure of him, "will you be so good as to return
with me to the Governor's residence?"

"By whose orders?" demanded Yoosoof with a look of surprise.

"The orders of the Senhorina Maraquita."

The Arab hesitated, looked somewhat perplexed, and said something in
Portuguese to Marizano, who pointed to the slave-girl, and spoke with
considerable vehemence.

Lindsay did not understand what was said, but, conjecturing that the
half-caste was proposing that Azinte should remain with him, he
said:--"The girl must return with you--if you would not incur the
Governor's displeasure."

Marizano, on having this explained to him, looked with much ferocity at
the lieutenant and spoke to Yoosoof in wrathful tones, but the latter
shook his head, and the former, who disliked Marizano's appearance
excessively, took not the least notice of him.

"I do go," said Yoosoof, turning back.  Motioning to Azinte to follow,
he retraced his steps with the lieutenant and the slave--while Marizano
strode into the town in a towering rage.

We need scarcely say that Maraquita, having got possession of Azinte,
did not find it impossible to persuade her father to purchase her, and
that Yoosoof, although sorry to disappoint Marizano, who was an
important ally and assistant in the slave-trade, did not see his way to
thwart the wishes of the Governor, whose power to interfere with his
trade was very great indeed, and to whom he was under the necessity of
paying head-money for every slave that was exported by him from that
part of the coast.

Soon after Azinte had been thus happily rescued from the clutches of two
of the greatest villains on the East African coast--where villains of
the deepest dye are by no means uncommon--Lindsay met Captain Romer of
the `Firefly' on the beach, with his first lieutenant Mr Small, who, by
the way, happened to be one of the largest men in his ship.  The three
officers had been invited to dine that day with the Governor, and as
there seemed no particular occasion for their putting to sea that night,
and a fresh supply of water had to be taken on board, the invitation had
been accepted, all the more readily, too, that Captain Romer thought it
afforded an opportunity for obtaining further information as to the
movements of certain notorious slavers who were said to be thereabouts
at that time.  Lieutenant Lindsay had been sent ashore at an earlier
part of the day, accompanied by one of the sailors who understood
Portuguese, and who, being a remarkably intelligent man, might, it was
thought, acquire some useful information from some of the people of the
town.

"Well, Mr Lindsay, has Jackson been of any use to you?" inquired the
captain.

"Not yet," replied the lieutenant; "at least I know not what he may have
done, not having met him since we parted on landing; but I have myself
been so fortunate as to rescue a slave-girl under somewhat peculiar
circumstances."

"Truly, a most romantic and gallant affair," said the captain, laughing,
when Lindsay had related the incident, "and worthy of being mentioned in
despatches; but I suspect, considering the part that the Senhorina
Maraquita played in it and the fact that you only rescued the girl from
one slaveholder in order to hand her over to another, the less that is
said about the subject the better!--But here comes Jackson.  Perhaps he
may have learned something about the scoundrels we are in search of."

The seaman referred to approached and touched his cap.

"What news?" demanded the captain, who knew by the twinkle in Jack's eye
that he had something interesting to report.

"I've diskivered all about it sir," replied the man, with an
ill-suppressed chuckle.

"Indeed! come this way.  Now, let's hear what you have to tell," said
the captain, when at a sufficient distance from his boat to render the
conversation quite private.

"Well, sir," began Jackson, "w'en I got up into the town, arter leavin'
Mr Lindsay, who should I meet but a man as had bin a messmate o' mine
aboard of that there Portuguese ship w'ere I picked up a smatterin' o'
the lingo?  Of course we hailed each other and hove-to for a spell, and
then we made sail for a grog-shop, where we spliced the main-brace.
After a deal o' tackin' and beatin' about, which enabled me to find out
that he'd left the sea an' taken to business on his own account, which
in them parts seems to mean loafin' about doin' little or nothin', I
went slap into the subject that was uppermost in my mind, and says I to
him, says I, they does a deal o' slavin' on this here coast, it
appears--Black Ivory is a profitable trade, ain't it?  W'y, sir, you
should have seen the way he grinned and winked, and opened out on
'em.--`Black Ivory!' says he, `w'y, Jackson, there's more slaves
exported from these here parts annooally than would fill a good-sized
city.  I could tell you--but,' says he, pullin' up sudden, `you won't
split on me, messmate?'  `Honour bright,' says I, `if ye don't call
tellin' my captain splittin'.'  `Oh no,' says he, with a laugh, `it's
little I care what _he_ knows, or does to the pirates--for that's their
true name, and murderers to boot--but don't let it come to the
Governor's ears, else I'm a ruined man.'  I says I wouldn't and then he
goes on to tell me all sorts of hanecdots about their doin's--that they
does it with the full consent of the Governor, who gets head-money for
every slave exported; that nearly all the Governors on the coast are
birds of the same feather, and that the Governor-General himself, [See
Consul McLeod's _Travels in Eastern Africa_, volume one page 306.] at
Mozambique, winks at it and makes the subordinate Governors pay him
tribute.  Then he goes on to tell me more about the Governor of this
here town, an' says that, though a kind-hearted man in the main, and
very good to his domestic slaves, he encourages the export trade,
because it brings him in a splendid revenue, which he has much need of,
poor man, for like most, if not all, of the Governors on the coast, he
do receive nothin' like a respectible salary from the Portuguese
Government at home, and has to make it up by slave-tradin'."  [See
McLeod's _Travels_, volume one page 293.]

It must be explained here that British cruisers were, and still are,
kept on the east coast of Africa, for the purpose of crushing only the
_export_ slave-trade.  They claim no right to interfere with "domestic
slavery," an institution which is still legal in the dominions of the
Sultan of Zanzibar and in the so-called colonies of Portugal on that
coast.

"But that is not the best of it, sir," continued Jackson, with a
respectful smile, "after we'd had our jaw out I goes off along the road
by the beach to think a bit what I'd best do, an' have a smoke--for
that's wot usually sets my brain to work full-swing.  Bein' hot I lay
down in the lee of a bush to excogitate.  You see, sir, my old messmate
told me that there are two men here, the worst characters he ever
know'd--ashore or afloat.  One they calls Yoosoof--an Arab he is; the
other Marizano--he's a slave-catcher, and an outlaw just now, havin'
taken up arms and rebelled against the Portuguese authorities.
Nevertheless these two men are secretly hand and glove with the Governor
here, and at this moment there are said to be a lot o' slaves ready for
shipment and only waitin' till the `Firefly' is out of the way.  More
than this my friend could not tell, so that's w'y I went to
excogitate.--I beg parding, sir, for being so long wi' my yarn, but I
ain't got the knack o' cuttin' it short, sir, that's w'ere it is."

"Never mind, lad; go on to the end of it," replied the captain.  "Did
you excogitate anything more?"

"I can't say as I did, sir, but it was cooriously enough excogitated
_for_ me.  W'en I was lying there looking through the bush at the bay, I
sees two men comin' along, arm in arm.  One of 'em was an Arab.  W'en
they was near I saw the Arab start; I thought he'd seen me, and didn't
like me.  No more did I like him or his comrade.  However, I was wrong,
for after whisperin' somethin' very earnest-like to his friend, who
laughed very much; but said nothin', they came and sat down not far from
the bush where I lay.  Now, thinks I, it ain't pleasant to be an
eavesdropper, but as I'm here to find out the secrets of villains, and
as these two look uncommon like villains, I'll wait a bit; if they
broach business as don't consarn me or her Majesty the Queen, I'll
sneeze an' let 'em know I'm here, before they're properly under weigh;
but if they speaks of wot I wants to know, I'll keep quiet.  Well, sir,
to my surprise, the Arab--he speaks in bad English, whereby I came to
suppose the other was an Englishman, but, if he is, the climate must
have spoiled him badly, for I never did see such a ruffian to look at.
But he only laughed, and didn't speak, so I couldn't be sure.  Well, to
come to the pint, sir, the Arab said he'd got hold of two shipwrecked
Englishmen, whom he meant to put on board of his dhow, at that time
lyin' up a river not three miles off, and full of slaves, take 'em off
the coast, seize 'em when asleep, and heave 'em overboard; the reason
bein' that he was afraid, if they was left ashore here, they'd discover
the town, which they are ignorant of at present, and give the alarm to
our ship, sir, an' so prevent him gettin' clear off, which he means to
attempt about midnight just after the moon goes down."

This unexpected information was very gratifying to Captain Romer, who
immediately gave orders to get steam up and have everything in readiness
to start the moment he should make his appearance on board, at the same
time enjoining absolute silence on his lieutenants and Jackson, who all
returned to the `Firefly,' chuckling inwardly.

If they had known that the Arab's information, though partly true, was a
_ruse_; that Jackson had indeed been observed by the keen-eyed Oriental,
who had thereupon sat down purposely within earshot, and after a
whispered hint to his companion, gave forth such information as would be
likely to lead the British cruiser into his snares--speaking in bad
English, under the natural impression that the sailor did not understand
Portuguese, to the immense amusement of Marizano, who understood the
_ruse_, though he did not understand a single word of what his companion
said--had they known all this, we say, it is probable that they would
have chuckled less, and--but why indulge in probabilities when facts are
before us?  The sequel will show that the best-laid plans may fail.



CHAPTER THREE.

RELATES THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF HAROLD AND DISCO, AND LIFTS THE
CURTAIN A LITTLE HIGHER IN REGARD TO THE SLAVE-TRADE.

So Captain Romer and his lieutenants went to dine with the worthy
Governor Senhor Francisco Alfonso Toledo Bignoso Letotti, while Yoosoof
returned to the creek to carry out his deep-laid plans.

In regard to the dinner, let it suffice to observe that it was good, and
that the Governor was urbane, hospitable, communicative, and every way
agreeable.  It is probable that if he had been trained in another sphere
and in different circumstances he might have been a better man.  As
things stood, he was unquestionably a pleasant one, and Captain Romer
found it hard to believe that he was an underhand schemer.

Nothing could exceed the open way in which Senhor Letotti condemned the
slave-trade, praised the English for their zeal in attempting to
suppress it, explained that the King of Portugal and the Sultan of
Zanzibar were equally anxious for its total extinction, and assured his
guests that he would do everything that lay in his power to further
their efforts to capture the guilty kidnappers, and to free the poor
slaves!

"But, my dear sir," said he, at the conclusion of an emphatic
declaration of sympathy, "the thing is exceedingly difficult.  You are
aware that Arab traders swarm upon the coast, that they are reckless
men, who possess boats and money in abundance, that the trade is very
profitable, and that, being to some extent real traders in ivory,
palm-oil, indigo, and other kinds of native produce, these men have many
_ruses_ and methods--what you English call dodges--whereby they can
deceive even the most sharp-sighted and energetic.  The Arabs are smart
smugglers of negroes--very much as your people who live in the Scottish
land are smart smugglers of the dew of the mountain--what your great
poet Burns speaks much of--I forget its name--it is not easy to put them
down."

After dinner, Senhor Letotti led the officers into his garden, and
showed them his fruit-trees and offices, also his domestic slaves, who
looked healthy, well cared for, and really in some degree happy.

He did not, however, tell his guests that being naturally a humane man,
his slaves were better treated than any other slaves in the town.  He
did not remind them that, being slaves, they were his property, his
goods and chattels, and that he possessed the right and the power to
flay them alive if so disposed.  He did not explain that many in the
town _were_ so disposed; that cruelty grows and feeds upon itself; that
there were ladies and gentlemen there who flogged their slaves--men,
women, and children--nearly to the death; that one gentleman of an
irascible disposition, when irritated by some slight oversight on the
part of the unfortunate boy who acted as his valet, could find no relief
to his feelings until he had welted him first into a condition of
unutterable terror, and then into a state of insensibility.  Neither did
he inform them that a certain lady in the town, who seemed at most times
to be possessed of a reasonably quiet spirit, was roused once to such a
degree by a female slave that she caused her to be forcibly held, thrust
a boiling hot egg into her mouth, skewered her lips together with a
sail-needle, and then striking her cheeks, burst the egg, and let the
scalding contents run down her throat.  [See Consul McLeod's _Travels_,
volume two page 32.]

No, nothing of all this did the amiable Governor Letotti so much as hint
at.  He would not for the world have shocked the sensibilities of his
guests by the recital of such cruelties.  To say truth, the worthy man
himself did not like to speak or think of them.  In this respect he
resembled a certain class among ourselves, who, rather than submit to a
little probing of their feelings for a few minutes, would prefer to miss
the chance of making an intelligently indignant protest against slavery,
and would allow the bodies and souls of their fellow-men to continue
writhing in agony through all time.

It was much more gratifying to the feelings of Senhor Letotti to convey
his guests to the drawing-room, and there gratify their palates with
excellent coffee, while the graceful, and now clothed, Azinte brought a
Spanish guitar to the Senhorina Maraquita, whose sweet voice soon
charmed away all thoughts of the cruel side of slavery.  But duty ere
long stepped in to call the guests to other scenes.

"What a sweet girl the Senhorina is!" remarked Captain Romer, while on
his way to the beach.

"Ay, and what a pretty girl Azinte is, black though she be," observed
Lieutenant Small.

"Call her not black; she is brown--a brunette," said the captain.

"I wonder how _we_ should feel," said Lindsay, "if the tables were
turned, and _our_ women and children, with our stoutest young men, were
forcibly taken from us by thousands every year, and imported into Africa
to grind the corn and hoe the fields of the black man.  Poor Azinte!"

"Do you know anything of her history?" inquired Mr Small.

"A little.  I had some conversation in French with the Senhorina just
before we left--"

"Yes, I observed that," interrupted the captain, with a quiet smile.

"And," continued Lindsay, "she told me that she had discovered, through
an interpreter, that the poor girl is married, and that her home is far
away in the interior.  She was caught, with many others, while out
working in the fields one day several months ago, by a party of
slave-traders, under an Arab named Yoosoof and carried off.  Her husband
was absent at the time; her infant boy was with its grandmother in their
village, and she thinks may have escaped into the woods, but she has not
seen any of them again since the day of her capture."

"It is a sad case," said the captain, "and yet bad though it be, it
might be far worse, for Azinte's master and mistress are very kind,
which is more than can be said of most slave-owners in this region."

In a few minutes the captain's gig was alongside the "Firefly," and soon
afterwards that vessel quietly put to sea.  Of course it was impossible
that she should depart unobserved, but her commander took the precaution
to run due south at first, exactly opposite to the direction of his true
course, intending to make a wide sweep out to sea, and thus get
unobserved to the northward of the place where the slaver's dhow was
supposed to be lying, in time to intercept it.

Yoosoof, from a neighbouring height watched the manoeuvre, and
thoroughly understood it.  When the vessel had disappeared into the
shades of night that brooded over the sea, he smiled calmly, and in a
placid frame of mind betook himself to his lair in the creek beside the
mangrove trees.

He found Harold Seadrift and Disco Lillihammer in the hut, somewhat
impatient of his prolonged absence, and a dozen of his men looking
rather suspiciously at the strangers.

"Is all ready, Moosa?" he inquired of a powerful man, half-Portuguese,
half-negro in appearance, who met him outside the door of the hut.

"All ready," replied the half-caste, in a gruff tone of voice, "but what
are you going to do with these English brutes?"

"Take them with us, of course," replied Yoosoof.

"For what end?"

"For our own safety.  Why, don't you see, Moosa, that if we had set them
free, they might have discovered the town and given information to the
cruiser about us, which would have been awkward?  We might now, indeed,
set them free, for the cruiser is gone, but I still have good reason for
wishing to take them with me.  They think that we have but _one_ boat in
this creek, and I should like to make use of them for the purpose of
propagating that false idea.  I have had the good luck while in the town
to find an opportunity of giving one of the sailors of the cruiser a
little information as to my movements--some of it true, some of it
false--which will perhaps do us a service."

The Arab smiled slightly as he said this.

"Do these men know our trade?" asked Moosa.

"I think they suspect it," answered Yoosoof.

"And what if they be not willing to go with us?" demanded Moosa.

"Can twelve men not manage two?" asked the Arab.  Dark though the night
had become by that time, there was sufficient light to gleam on the
teeth that Moosa exposed on receiving this reply.

"Now, Moosa, we must be prompt," continued Yoosoof; "let some of you get
round behind the Englishmen, and have the slave-chains handy.  Keep your
eye on me while I talk with them; if they are refractory, a nod shall be
the signal."

Entering the hut Yoosoof informed Harold that it was now time to set
sail.

"Good, we are ready," said Harold, rising, "but tell me one thing before
my comrade and I agree to go with you,--tell us honestly if you are
engaged in the slave-trade."

A slight smile curled the Arab's thin lip as he replied--"If I be a
slave-trader, I cannot speak honestly, so you Engleesh think.  But I do
tell you--yes, I am."

"Then, I tell _you_ honestly," said Harold, "that I won't go with you.
I'll have nothing to do with slavers."

"Them's my sentiments to a tee," said Disco, with emphasis, thumping his
left palm as usual with his right fist, by way of sheating his remark
home--to use his own words.

"But you will both perish on this uninhabited coast," said Yoosoof.

"So be it," replied Harold; "I had rather run the risk of starving than
travel in company with slave-traders.  Besides, I doubt the truth of
what you say.  There must be several villages not very far off, if my
information in regard to the coast be not altogether wrong."

Yoosoof waited for no more.  He nodded to Moosa, who instantly threw a
noose round Harold's arms, and drew it tight.  The same operation was
performed for Disco, by a stout fellow who stood behind him, and almost
before they realised what had occurred, they were seized by a number of
men.

It must not be supposed that two able-bodied Englishmen quietly
submitted at once to this sort of treatment.  On the contrary, a
struggle ensued that shook the walls of the little hut so violently as
almost to bring it down upon the heads of the combatants.  The instant
that Harold felt the rough clasp of Moosa's arms, he bent himself
forward with such force as to fling that worthy completely over his
head, and lay him flat on the floor, but two of the other slavers seized
Harold's arms, a third grasped him round the waist, and a fourth rapidly
secured the ropes that had been thrown around him.  Disco's mode of
action, although somewhat different was quite as vigorous.  On being
grasped he uttered a deep roar of surprise and rage, and, raising his
foot, struck out therewith at a man who advanced to seize him in front.
The kick not only tumbled the man over a low bench and drove his head
against the wall, but it caused the kicker himself to recoil on his foes
behind with such force that they all fell on the floor together, when by
their united weight the slavers managed to crush the unfortunate Disco,
not, indeed, into submission, but into inaction.

His tongue, however, not being tied, continued to pour forth somewhat
powerful epithets, until Harold very strongly advised him to cease.

"If you want to retain a whole skin," he said, "you had better keep a
quiet tongue."

"P'raps you're right sir," said Disco, after a moment's consideration,
"but it ain't easy to shut up in the succumstances."

After they had thoroughly secured the Englishmen, the traders led them
down the bank of the creek to the spot where the dhow was moored.  In
the dark it appeared to Harold and his companion to be the same dhow,
but this was not so.  The boat by which they had crossed the creek had
been removed up the water, and its place was now occupied by the dhow
into which had been put the maimed and worn-out slaves of the band whose
arrival we have described.  The hold of the little vessel was very dark,
nevertheless there was light enough to enable the Englishmen to guess
that the rows of black objects just perceptible within it were slaves.
If they had entertained any uncertainty on this point, the odour that
saluted them as they passed to the stern would have quickly dispelled
their doubts.

It was evident from the manner of the slavers that they did not now fear
discovery, because they talked loudly as they pushed off and rowed away.
Soon they were out of the creek, and the roar of breakers was heard.
Much caution was displayed in guiding the dhow through these, for the
channel was narrow, and darkness rendered its position almost
indiscernible.  At last the sail was hoisted, the boat bent over to a
smart breeze, and held away in a north-easterly direction.  As the night
wore on this breeze became lighter, and, most of the crew being asleep,
deep silence prevailed on board the slave-dhow, save that, ever and
anon, a pitiful wail, as of a sick child, or a convulsive sob, issued
from the hold.

Harold and Disco sat beside each other in the stern, with an armed
half-caste on each side, and Yoosoof in front.  Their thoughts were busy
enough at first, but neither spoke to the other.  As the night advanced
both fell into an uneasy slumber.

When Harold awoke, the grey dawn was beginning to break in the east and
there was sufficient light to render objects dimly visible.  At first he
scarcely recollected where he was, but the pain caused by the ropes that
bound him soon refreshed his memory.  Casting his eyes quickly towards
the hold, his heart sank within him at the sight he there beheld.
Yoosoof's Black Ivory was not of the best quality, but there was a good
deal of it, which rendered judicious packing necessary.  So many of his
gang had become worthless as an article of trade, through suffering on
the way down to the coast, that the boat could scarce contain them all.
They were packed sitting on their haunches in rows each with his knees
close to his chin, and all jammed so tightly together that none could
rise up or lie down.  Men, women, and little children sat in this
position with an expression of indescribable hopelessness and apathy on
their faces.  The infants, of which there were several, lay motionless
on their mothers' shrunken breasts.  God help them! they were indeed
utterly worthless as pieces of merchandise.  The long journey and hard
treatment had worn all of them to mere skin and bone, and many were
suffering from bad sores caused by the slave-irons and the unmerciful
application of the lash.  No one knew better than Yoosoof that this was
his "damaged stock"--hopelessly damaged, and he meant to make the best
use he could of it.

The sun arose in all its splendour, and revealed more clearly to the
horrified Englishmen all the wretchedness of the hold, but for a
considerable time they did not speak.  The circumstances in which they
found themselves seemed to have bereft them of the faculty of speech.
The morning advanced, and Yoosoof with his men, took a frugal breakfast,
but they did not offer any to Harold or Disco.  As these unfortunates
had, however, supped heartily, they did not mind that.  So much could
not have been said for the slaves.  They had received their last meal of
uncooked rice and water, a very insufficient one, about thirty-six hours
before, and as they watched the traders at breakfast, their glaring eyes
told eloquently of their sufferings.

Had these been Yoosoof's valuable stock, his undamaged goods, he would
have given them a sufficiency of food to have kept them up to condition
as long as he possessed them; but being what they were, a very little
drop of water and a few grains of raw rice at noon was deemed sufficient
to prevent absolute starvation.

"How can you have the heart," said Harold at last turning to Yoosoof,
"to treat these poor creatures so cruelly?"

Yoosoof shrugged his shoulders.

"My fader treat them so; I follow my fader's footsteps."

"But have you no pity for them?  Don't you think they have hearts and
feelings like ourselves?" returned Harold earnestly.

"No," replied the Arab coldly.  "They have no feelings.  Hard as the
stone.  They care not for mother, or child, or husband.  Only brutes--
cattle."

Harold was so disgusted with this reply that he relapsed into silence.

Towards the afternoon, while the dhow was running close in-shore, a
vessel hove in sight on the horizon.  A few minutes sufficed to show
that it was a steamer.  It was of course observed and closely watched by
the slave-dealers as well as by Harold Seadrift and Disco Lillihammer,
who became sanguinely hopeful that it might turn out to be a British
man-of-war.  Had they known that Yoosoof was equally anxious and hopeful
on that point they would have been much surprised; but the wily Arab
pretended to be greatly alarmed, and when the Union Jack became clearly
visible his excitement increased.  He gave some hurried orders to his
men, who laughed sarcastically as they obeyed them.

"Yoosoof," said Harold, with a slight feeling of exultation, "your plans
seem about to miscarry!"

"No, they not miscarry yet," replied the Arab, with a grim smile.

"Tell me, Yoosoof," resumed Harold, prompted by strong curiosity, "why
have you carried us off bound in this fashion?"

Another smile, more grim than the former, crossed the Arab's visage as
he replied--"Me carry you off 'cause that sheep," pointing to the
steamer, "lie not two mile off, near to town of Governor Letotti, when I
first met you.  We not want you to let thems know 'bout us, so I carry
you off, and I bind you 'cause you strong."

"Ha! that's plain and reasonable," returned Harold, scarce able to
restrain a laugh at the man's cool impudence.  "But it would appear that
some one else has carried the news; so, you see, you have been outwitted
after all."

"Perhaps.  We shall see," replied the Arab, with something approaching
to a chuckle.

Altering the course of the boat, Yoosoof now ran her somewhat off the
shore, as if with a view to get round a headland that lay to the
northward.  This evidently drew the attention of the steamer--which was
none other than the "Firefly"--for she at once altered her course and
ran in-shore, so as to intercept the dhow.  Seeing this, Yoosoof turned
back and made for the land at a place where there was a long line of
breakers close to the shore.  To run amongst these seemed to be
equivalent to running on certain destruction, nevertheless the Arab held
on, with compressed lips and a frowning brow.  Yoosoof looked quite like
a man who would rather throw away his life than gratify his enemy, and
the Englishmen, who were fully alive to their danger, began to feel
rather uneasy--which was a very pardonable sensation, when it is
remembered that their arms being fast bound, rendered them utterly
unable to help themselves in case of the boat capsizing.

The "Firefly" was by this time near enough to hold converse with the
dhow through the medium of artillery.  Soon a puff of white smoke burst
from her bow, and a round-shot dropped a few yards astern of the boat.

"That's a broad hint, my lad, so you'd better give in," said
Lillihammer, scarce able to suppress a look of triumph.

Yoosoof paid not the slightest attention to the remark, but held on his
course.

"Surely you don't intend to risk the lives of these poor creatures in
such a surf?" said Harold anxiously; "weak and worn as they are, their
doom is sealed if we capsize."

Still the Arab paid no attention, but continued to gaze steadily at the
breakers.

Harold, turning his eyes in the same direction, observed something like
a narrow channel running through them.  He was enough of a seaman to
understand that only one who was skilled in such navigation could pass
in safety.

"They're lowering a boat," said Disco, whose attention was engrossed by
the manoeuvres of the "Firefly."

Soon the boat left the side of the vessel, which was compelled to check
her speed for fear of running on the reef.  Another gun was fired as she
came round, and the shot dropped right in front of the dhow, sending a
column of water high into the air.  Still Yoosoof held on until close to
the breakers, when, to the surprise of the Englishmen, he suddenly threw
the boat's head into the wind.

"You can steer," he said sternly to Disco.  "Come, take the helm an' go
to your ship; or, if you choose, go on the breakers."

He laughed fiercely as he said this, and next moment plunged into the
sea, followed by his crew.

Disco, speechless with amazement, rose up and sprang to the helm.  Of
course he could not use his bound hands, but one of his legs answered
almost as well.  He allowed the boat to come round until the sail filled
on the other tack, and then looking back, saw the heads of the Arabs as
they swam through the channel and made for the shore.  In a few minutes
they gained it, and, after uttering a shout of defiance, ran up into the
bushes and disappeared.

Meanwhile the "Firefly's" boat made straight for the dhow, and was soon
near enough to hail.

"Heave-to," cried an interpreter in Arabic.

"Speak your own mother tongue and I'll answer ye," replied Disco.

"Heave-to, or I'll sink you," shouted Mr Small, who was in charge.

"I'm just agoin' to do it, sir," replied Disco, running the dhow into
the wind until the sail shook.

Another moment and the boat was alongside.  "Jump aboard and handle the
sail, lads; I can't help 'ee no further," said Disco.

The invitation was unnecessary.  The moment the two boats touched, the
blue-jackets swarmed on board, cutlass in hand, and took possession.

"Why, what!--where did _you_ come from?" asked the lieutenant, looking
in profound astonishment at Harold and his companion.

"We are Englishmen, as you see," replied Harold, unable to restrain a
smile; "we have been wrecked and caught by the villains who have just
escaped you."

"I see--well, no time for talking just now; cut them loose, Jackson.
Make fast the sheet--now then."

In a few minutes the dhow ranged up alongside the "Firefly," and our
heroes, with the poor slaves, were quickly transferred to the
man-of-war's deck, where Harold told his tale to Captain Romer.

As we have already stated, there were a number of slaves on board the
"Firefly," which had been rescued from various Arab dhows.  The gang now
received on board made their numbers so great that it became absolutely
necessary to run to the nearest port to discharge them.

We have already remarked on the necessity that lies on our cruisers,
when overladen with rescued slaves, to run to a distant port of
discharge to land them; and on the readiness of the slave-traders to
take advantage of their opportunity, and run north with full cargoes
with impunity when some of the cruisers are absent; for it is not
possible for a small fleet to guard upwards of a thousand miles of coast
effectually, or even, in any degree, usefully.  If we possessed a port
of discharge--a British station and settlement--on the mainland of the
east coast of Africa, this difficulty would not exist.  As it is,
although we place several men-of-war on a station, the evil will not be
cured, for just in proportion as these are successful in making
captures, will arise the necessity of their leaving the station for
weeks at a time unguarded.

Thus it fell out on the occasion of which we write.  The presence of the
large slave-freight on board the man-of-war was intolerable.  Captain
Romer was compelled to hurry off to the Seychelles Islands.  He sailed
with the monsoon, but had to steam back against it.  During this period
another vessel, similarly freighted, had to run to discharge at Aden.
The seas were thus comparatively clear of cruisers.  The Arabs seized
their opportunity, and a stream of dhows and larger vessels swept out
from the various creeks and ports all along the East African coast,
filled to overflowing with slaves.

Among these were the four large dhows of our friend Yoosoof.  Having, as
we have seen, made a slight sacrifice of damaged and unsaleable goods
and chattels, in order to clear the way, he proceeded north, touching at
various ports where he filled up his living cargo, and finally got clear
off, not with goods damaged beyond repair, but with thousands of the
sons and daughters of Africa in their youthful prime.

In the interior each man cost him about four yards of cotton cloth,
worth a few pence; each woman three yards, and each child two yards, and
of course in cases where he stole them, they cost him nothing.  On the
coast these would sell at from 8 pounds to 12 pounds each, and in Arabia
at from 20 pounds to 40 pounds.

We mention this to show what strong inducement there was for Yoosoof to
run a good deal of risk in carrying on this profitable and accursed
traffic.

But you must not fancy, good reader, that what we have described is
given as a specimen of the _extent_ to which the slave-trade on that
coast is carried.  It is but as a specimen of the _manner_ thereof.  It
is certainly within the mark to say that at least thirty thousand
natives are annually carried away as slaves from the east coast of
Africa.

Sir Bartle Frere, in addressing a meeting of the chief native
inhabitants of Bombay in April 1873, said,--"Let me assure you, in
conclusion, that what you have heard of the horrors of the slave-trade
is in no way exaggerated.  We have seen so much of the horrors which
were going on that we can have no doubt that what you read in books,
which are so often spoken of as containing exaggerations, is exaggerated
in no respect.  The evil is much greater than anything you can conceive.
Among the poorer class of Africans there is nothing like security from
fathers and mothers being put to death in order that their children may
be captured;"--and, referring to the _east coast alone_, he says
that--"thirty thousand, or more, human beings, are exported every year
from Africa."

Dr Livingstone tells us that, on the average, about one out of every
five captured human beings reaches the coast alive.  The other four
perish or are murdered on the way, so that the thirty thousand annually
exported, as stated by Sir Bartle Frere, represents a loss of 150,000
human beings _annually_ from the east coast alone, altogether
irrespective of the enormous and constant flow of slaves to the north by
way of the White Nile and Egypt.

Yoosoof's venture was therefore but a drop in the vast river of blood
which is drained annually from poor Africa's veins--blood which flows at
the present time as copiously and constantly as it ever did in the days
of old--blood which cries aloud to God for vengeance, and for the flow
of which _we_, as a nation, are far from blameless.



CHAPTER FOUR.

IN WHICH OUR HEROES SEE STRANGE SIGHTS AT ZANZIBAR, AND RESOLVE UPON
TAKING A BOLD STEP.

Before proceeding to the Seychelles, the `Firefly' touched at the island
of Zanzibar, and there landed our hero Harold Seadrift and his comrade
in misfortune, Disco Lillihammer.

Here, one brilliant afternoon, the two friends sat down under a
palm-tree to hold what Disco called a palaver.  The spot commanded a
fine view of the town and harbour of Zanzibar.

We repeat that the afternoon was brilliant, but it is right to add that
it required an African body and mind fully to appreciate the pleasures
of it.  The sun's rays were blistering, the heat was intense, and the
air was stifling.  Harold lay down and gasped, Disco followed his
example, and sighed.  After a few minutes spent in a species of imbecile
contemplation of things in general, the latter raised himself to a
sitting posture, and proceeded slowly to fill and light his pipe.
Harold was no smoker, but he derived a certain dreamy enjoyment from
gazing at Disco, and wondering how he could smoke in such hot weather.

"We'll get used to it I s'pose, like the eels," observed Disco, when the
pipe was in full blast.

"Of course we shall," replied Harold; "and now that we have come to an
anchor, let me explain the project which has been for some days maturing
in my mind."

"All right; fire away, sir," said the sailor, blowing a long thin cloud
from his lips.

"You are aware," said Harold, "that I came out here as supercargo of my
father's vessel," (Disco nodded), "but you are not aware that my chief
object in coming was to see a little of the world in general, and of the
African part of it in particular.  Since my arrival you and I have seen
a few things, which have opened up my mind in regard to slavery; we have
now been a fortnight in this town, and my father's agent has enlightened
me still further on the subject, insomuch that I now feel within me an
intense desire to make an excursion into the interior of Africa; indeed,
I have resolved to do so, for the purpose of seeing its capabilities in
a commercial point of view, of observing how the slave-trade is
conducted at its fountain-head, and of enjoying a little of the scenery
and the sport peculiar to this land of Ham."

"W'y, you speaks like a book, sir," said Disco, emitting a prolonged
puff, "an' it ain't for the likes me to give an opinion on that there;
but if I may make bold to ax, sir, how do you mean to travel--on the
back of a elephant or a ry-noceris?--for it seems to me that there ain't
much in the shape o' locomotives or 'busses hereabouts--not even cabs."

"I shall go in a canoe," replied Harold; "but my reason for broaching
the subject just now is, that I may ask if you are willing to go with
me."

"There's no occasion to ax that sir; I'm your man--north or south, east
or west, it's all the same to me.  I've bin born to roll about the
world, and it matters little whether I rolls ashore or afloat--though I
prefers the latter."

"Well, then, that's settled," said Harold, with a look of satisfaction;
"I have already arranged with our agent here to advance me what I
require in the way of funds, and shall hire men and canoes when we get
down to the Zambesi--"

"The Zam-wot, sir?"

"The Zambesi; did you never hear of it before?"

"Never, nor don't know wot it is, sir."

"It is a river; one of the largest on the east coast, which has been
well described by Dr Livingstone, that greatest of travellers, whose
chief object in travelling is, as he himself says, to raise the negroes
out of their present degraded condition, and free them from the curse of
slavery."

"That's the man to _my_ mind," said Disco emphatically; "good luck to
him.--But w'en d'you mean to start for the Zambizzy, sir?"

"In a few days.  It will take that time to get everything ready, and our
money packed."

"Our money packed!" echoed the sailor, with a look of surprise, "w'y,
wot d'ye mean!"

"Just what I say.  The money current in the interior of Africa is rather
cumbrous, being neither more nor less than goods.  You'll never guess
what sort--try."

"Rum," said Disco.

"No."

"Pipes and 'baccy."

Harold shook his head.

"Never could guess nothin'," said Disco, replacing the pipe, which he
had removed for a few moments from his lips; "I gives it up."

"What would you say to cotton cloth, and thick brass wire, and glass
beads, being the chief currency in Central Africa?" said Harold.

"You don't mean it, sir?"

"Indeed I do, and as these articles must be carried in large quantities,
if we mean to travel far into the land, there will be more bales and
coils than you and I could well carry in our waistcoat pockets."

"That's true, sir," replied Disco, looking earnestly at a couple of
negro slaves who chanced to pass along the neighbouring footpath at that
moment, singing carelessly.  "Them poor critters don't seem to be so
miserable after all."

"That is because the nigger is naturally a jolly, light-hearted fellow,"
said Harold, "and when his immediate and more pressing troubles are
removed he accommodates himself to circumstances, and sings, as you
hear.  If these fellows were to annoy their masters and get a thrashing,
you'd hear them sing in another key.  The evils of most things don't
show on the surface.  You must get behind the scenes to understand them.
You and I have already had one or two peeps behind the scenes."

"We have indeed, sir," replied Disco, frowning, and closing his fists
involuntarily, as he thought of Yoosoof and the dhow.

"Now, then," said Harold, rising, as Disco shook the ashes out of his
little black pipe, and placed that beloved implement in the pocket of
his coat, "let us return to the harbour, and see what chance there is of
getting a passage to the Zambesi, in an honest trading dhow--if there is
such a thing in Zanzibar."

On their way to the harbour they had to pass through the slave-market.
This was not the first time they had visited the scene of this
iniquitous traffic, but neither Harold nor Disco could accustom
themselves to it.  Every time they entered the market their feelings of
indignation became so intense that it was with the utmost difficulty
they could control them.  When Disco saw handsome negro men and
good-looking girls put up for public sale,--their mouths rudely opened,
and their teeth examined by cool, calculating Arabs, just as if they had
been domestic cattle--his spirit boiled within him, his fingers tingled,
and he felt a terrible inclination to make a wild attack, single-handed,
on the entire population of Zanzibar, though he might perish in the
execution of vengeance and the relief of his feelings!  We need scarcely
add that his discretion saved him.  They soon reached the small square
in which the market was held.  Here they saw a fine-looking young woman
sold to a grave elderly Arab for a sum equal to about eight pounds
sterling.  Passing hastily on, they observed another "lot," a tall
stalwart man, having his various "points" examined, and stopped to see
the result.  His owner, thinking, perhaps, that he seemed a little
sluggish in his movements, raised his whip and caused it to fall upon
his flank with such vigour that the poor fellow, taken by surprise,
leaped high into the air, and uttered a yell of pain.  The strength and
activity of the man were unquestionable, and he soon found a purchaser.

But all the slaves were not fine-looking or stalwart like the two just
referred to.  Many of them were most miserable objects.  Some stood,
others were seated as if incapable of standing, so emaciated were they.
Not a few were mere skeletons, with life and skin.  Near the middle of
the square, groups of children were arranged--some standing up to be
inspected, others sitting down.  These ranged from five years and
upwards, but there was not one that betrayed the slightest tendency to
mirth, and Disco came to the conclusion that negro children do not play,
but afterwards discovered his mistake, finding that their exuberant
jollity "at home" was not less than that of the children of other lands.
These little slaves had long ago been terrified, and beaten, and
starved into listless, apathetic and silent creatures.

Further on, a row of young women attracted their attention.  They were
ranged in a semicircle, all nearly in a state of nudity, waiting to be
sold.  A group of Arabs stood in front of them, conversing.  One of
these women looked such a picture of woe that Disco felt irresistibly
impelled to stop.  There were no tears in her eyes; the fountain
appeared to have been dried up, but, apparently, without abating the
grief which was stamped in deep lines on her young countenance, and
which burst frequently from her breast in convulsive sobs.  Our
Englishmen were not only shocked but surprised at this woman's aspect,
for their experience had hitherto gone to show that the slaves usually
became callous under their sufferings.  Whatever of humanity might have
originally belonged to them seemed to have been entirely driven out of
them by the cruelties and indignities they had so long suffered at the
hands of their captors.  [See Captain Sulivan's _Dhow-chasing in
Zanzibar Waters_, page 252.]

"Wot's the matter with her, poor thing?" asked Disco of a half-caste
Portuguese, dressed in something like the garb of a sailor.

"Oh, notting," answered the man in broken English, with a look of
indifference, "she have lose her chile, dat all."

"Lost her child? how--wot d'ee mean?"

"Dey hab sole de chile," replied the man; "was good fat boy, 'bout
two-yer ole.  S'pose she hab carry him for months troo de woods, an'
over de hills down to coast, an' tink she keep him altogether.  But she
mistake.  One trader come here 'bout one hour past.  He want boy--not
want modder; so he buy de chile.  Modder fight a littil at first, but de
owner soon make her quiet.  Oh, it notting at all.  She cry a littil--
soon forget her chile, an' get all right."

"Come, I can't stand this," exclaimed Harold, hastening away.

Disco said nothing, but to the amazement of the half-caste, he grasped
him by the collar, and hurled him aside with a degree of force that
caused him to stagger and fall with stunning violence to the ground.
Disco then strode away after his friend, his face and eyes blazing with
various emotions, among which towering indignation predominated.

In a few minutes they reached the harbour, and, while making inquiries
as to the starting of trading dhows for the south, they succeeded in
calming their feelings down to something like their ordinary condition.

The harbour was crowded with dhows of all shapes and sizes, most of them
laden with slaves, some discharging cargoes for the Zanzibar market,
others preparing to sail, under protection of a pass from the Sultan,
for Lamoo, which is the northern limit of the Zanzibar dominions, and,
therefore, of the so-called "domestic" slave-trade.

There would be something particularly humorous in the barefacedness of
this august Sultan of Zanzibar, if it were connected with anything less
horrible than slavery.  For instance, there is something almost amusing
in the fact that dhows were sailing every day for Lamoo with hundreds of
slaves, although that small town was known to be very much overstocked
at the time.  It was also quite entertaining to know that the commanders
of the French and English war-vessels lying in the harbour at the time
were aware of this, and that the Sultan knew it, and that, in short,
everybody knew it, but that nobody appeared to have the power to prevent
it!  Even the Sultan who granted the permits or passes to the owners of
the dhows, although he _professed_ to wish to check the slave-trade,
could not prevent it.  Wasn't that strange--wasn't it curious?  The
Sultan derived by far the largest portion of his revenue from the tax
levied on the export of slaves--amounting to somewhere about 10,000
pounds a year--but _that_ had nothing to do with it of course not, oh
dear no!  Then there was another very ludicrous phase of this oriental,
not to say transcendental, potentate's barefacedness.  He knew, and
probably admitted, that about 2000, some say 4000, slaves a year were
sufficient to meet the home-consumption of that commodity, and he also
knew, but probably did not admit, that not fewer than 30,000 slaves were
annually exported from Zanzibar to meet this requirement of 4000!  These
are very curious specimens of miscalculation which this barefaced Sultan
seems to have fallen into.  Perhaps he was a bad arithmetician.  [See
Captain Sulivan's _Dhow-chasing in Zanzibar Water_; page 111.] We have
said that this state of things _was_ so at the time of our story, but we
may now add that it still _is_ so in this year of grace 1873.  Whether
it shall continue to be so remains to be seen!

Having spent some time in fruitless inquiry, Harold and Disco at last to
their satisfaction, discovered an Arab dhow of known good character,
which was on the point of starting for the Zambesi in the course of a
few days, for the purpose of legitimate traffic.  It therefore became
necessary that our hero should make his purchases and preparations with
all possible speed.  In this he was entirely guided by his father's
agent, a merchant of the town, who understood thoroughly what was
necessary for the intended journey.

It is not needful here to enter into full details, suffice it to say
that among the things purchased by Harold, and packed up in portable
form, were a number of bales of common unbleached cotton, which is
esteemed above everything by the natives of Africa as an article of
dress--if we may dignify by the name of dress the little piece, about
the size of a moderate petticoat, which is the only clothing of some, or
the small scrap round the loins which is the sole covering of other,
natives of the interior!  There were also several coils of thick brass
wire, which is much esteemed by them for making bracelets and anklets;
and a large quantity of beads of various colours, shapes, and sizes.  Of
beads, we are told, between five and six hundred tons are annually
manufactured in Great Britain for export to Africa.

Thus supplied, our two friends embarked in the dhow and set sail.  Wind
and weather were propitious.  In few days they reached the mouths of the
great river Zambesi, and landed at the port of Quillimane.

Only once on the voyage did they fall in with a British cruiser, which
ordered them to lay-to and overhauled them, but on the papers and
everything being found correct, they were permitted to pursue their
voyage.

The mouths of the river Zambesi are numerous; extending over more than
ninety miles of the coast.  On the banks of the northern mouth stands--
it would be more appropriate to say festers--the dirty little Portuguese
town of Quillimane.  Its site is low, muddy, fever-haunted, and swarming
with mosquitoes.  No man in his senses would have built a village
thereon were it not for the facilities afforded for slaving.  At spring
or flood tides the bar may be safely crossed by sailing vessels, but,
being far from land, it is always dangerous for boats.

Here, then, Harold and Disco landed, and remained for some time for the
purpose of engaging men.  Appearing in the character of independent
travellers, they were received with some degree of hospitality by the
principal inhabitants.  Had they gone there as simple and legitimate
traders, every possible difficulty would have been thrown in their way,
because the worthy people, from the Governor downwards, flourished,--or
festered,--by means of the slave-trade, and legitimate commerce is
everywhere found to be destructive to the slave-trade.

Dr Livingstone and others tell us that thousands upon thousands of
negroes have, of late years, gone out from Quillimane into slavery under
the convenient title of "free emigrants," their freedom being not quite
equal to that of a carter's horse, for while that animal, although
enslaved, is usually well fed, the human animal is kept on rather low
diet lest his spirit should rouse him to deeds of desperate violence
against his masters.  All agricultural enterprise is also effectually
discouraged here.  When a man wants to visit his country farm he has to
purchase a permit from the Governor.  If he wishes to go up the river to
the Portuguese towns of Senna or Tette, a pass must be purchased from
the Governor.  In fact it would weary the reader were we to enumerate
the various modes in which every effort of man to act naturally,
legitimately, or progressively, is hampered, unless his business be the
buying and selling of human beings.

At first Harold experienced great difficulty in procuring men.  The
master of the trading dhow in which he sailed from Zanzibar intended to
remain as short a time as possible at Quillimane, purposing to visit
ports further south, and as Harold had made up his mind not to enter the
Zambesi by the Quillimane mouth, but to proceed in the dhow to one of
the southern mouths, he felt tempted to give up the idea of procuring
men until he had gone further south.

"You see, Disco," said he, in a somewhat disconsolate tone, "it won't do
to let this dhow start without us, because I want to get down to the
East Luavo mouth of this river, that being the mouth which was lately
discovered and entered by Dr Livingstone; but I'm not sure that we can
procure men or canoes there, and our Arab skipper either can't or won't
enlighten me."

"Ah!" observed Disco, with a knowing look, "he won't--that's where it
is, sir.  I've not a spark o' belief in that man, or in any Arab on the
coast.  He's a slaver in disguise, he is, an' so's every mother's son of
'em."

"Well," continued Harold, "if we must start without them and take our
chance, we must; there is no escaping from the inevitable; nevertheless
we must exert ourselves _to-day_, because the dhow does not sail till
to-morrow evening, and there is no saying what luck may attend our
efforts before that time.  Perseverance, you know, is the only sure
method of conquering difficulties."

"That's so," said Disco; "them's my sentiments 'xactly.  Never say die--
Stick at nothing--Nail yer colours to the mast: them's the mottoes that
I goes in for--always s'posin' that you're in the right."

"But what if you're in the wrong, and the colours are nailed?" asked
Harold, with a smile.

"W'y then, sir, of course I'd have to tear 'em down."

"So that perhaps, it would be better not to nail them at all, unless
you're very sure--eh?"

"Oh, of _course_, sir," replied Disco, with solemn emphasis.  "You don't
suppose, sir, that I would nail 'em to the mast except I was sure, wery
sure, that I wos right?  But, as you wos a sayin', sir, about the
gittin' of them 'ere men."

Disco had an easy way of changing a subject when he felt that he was
getting out of his depth.

"Well, to return to that.  The fact is, I would not mind the men, for
it's likely that men of some sort will turn up somewhere, but I am very
anxious about an interpreter.  Without an interpreter we shall get on
badly, I fear, for I can only speak French, besides a very little Latin
and Greek, none of which languages will avail much among niggers."

Disco assumed a severely thoughtful expression of countenance.

"That's true," he said, placing his right fist argumentatively in his
left palm, "and I'm afeard I can't help you there, sir.  If it wos to
steer a ship or pull a oar or man the fore-tops'l yard in a gale o'
wind, or anything else in the seafarin' line, Disco Lillihammer's your
man, but I couldn't come a furrin' lingo at no price.  I knows nothin'
but my mother tongue,--nevertheless, though I says it that shouldn't, I
does profess to be somewhat of a dab at that.  Once upon a time I spent
six weeks in Dublin, an' havin' a quick ear for moosic, I soon managed
to get up a strong dash o' the brogue; but p'raps that wouldn't go far
with the niggers."

About two hours after the above conversation, while Harold Seadrift was
walking on the beach, he observed his faithful ally in the distance
grasping a short thickset man by the arm, and endeavouring to induce him
to accompany him, with a degree of energy that fell little short of main
force.  The man was evidently unwilling.

As the pair drew nearer, Harold overheard Disco's persuasive
voice:--"Come now, Antonio, don't be a fool; it's the best service you
could enter.  Good pay and hard work, and all the grub that's goin'--
what could a man want more?  It's true there's no grog, but we don't
need that in a climate where you've only got to go out in the sun
without yer hat an' you'll be as good as drunk in ten minutes, any day."

"No, no, not possibil," remonstrated the man, whose swarthy visage
betrayed a mixture of cunning, fun, and annoyance.  He was obviously a
half-caste of the lowest type, but with more pretensions to wealth than
many of his fellows, inasmuch as he wore, besides his loin-cloth, a
white cotton shooting-coat, very much soiled, beneath the tails of which
his thin black legs protruded ridiculously.

"Here you are, sir," cried Disco, as he came up; "here's the man for
lingo: knows the native talkee, as well as Portuguese, English, Arabic,
and anything else you like, as far as I know.  Antonio's his name.
Come, sir, try him with Greek, or somethin' o' that sort!"

Harold had much ado to restrain a smile, but, assuming a grave aspect,
he addressed the man in French, while Disco listened with a look of
profound respect and admiration.

"W'y, wot's wrong with 'ee, man," exclaimed Disco, on observing the
blank look of Antonio's countenance; "don't 'ee savay that?"

"I thought you understood Portuguese?" said Harold in English.

"So me do," replied Antonio quickly; "but dat no Portigeese--dat
Spanaish, me 'spose."

"What _can_ you speak, then?" demanded Harold sternly.

"Portigeese, Arbik, Fengleesh, an' two, tree, four, nigger lungwiches."

It was very obvious that, whatever Antonio spoke, he spoke nothing
correctly, but that was of no importance so long as the man could make
himself understood.  Harold therefore asked if he would join his party
as interpreter, but Antonio shook his head.

"Why not man--why not?" asked Harold impatiently, for he became anxious
to secure him, just in proportion as he evinced disinclination to
engage.

"Speak up, Antonio, don't be ashamed; you've no need to," said Disco.
"The fact is, sir, Antonio tells me that he has just bin married, an' he
don't want to leave his wife."

"Very natural," observed Harold.  "How long is it since you were
married?"

"Von veek since I did bought her."

"Bought her!" exclaimed Disco, with a broad grin; "may I ax wot ye paid
for her?"

"Paid!" exclaimed the man, starting and opening his eyes very wide, as
if the contemplation of the vast sum were too much for him; "lat me
zee--me pay me vife's pairyints sixteen yard ob cottin clothe, an' for
me's hut four yard morer."

"Ye don't say that?" exclaimed Disco, with an extended grin.  "Is she
young an' good-lookin'?"

"Yonge!" replied Antonio; "yis, ver' yonge; not mush more dan baby, an'
exiquitely bootiful."

"Then, my good feller," said Disco, with a laugh, "the sooner you leave
her the better.  A week is a long time, an' absence, you know, as the
old song says, makes the heart grow fonder; besides, Mr Seadrift will
give you enough to buy a dozen wives, if 'ee want 'em."

"Yes, I'll pay you well," said Harold; "that is, if you prove to be a
good interpreter."

Antonio pricked up his ears at this.

"How mush vill 'oo gif?" he asked.

"Well, let me think; I shall probably be away three or four months.
What would you say, Antonio, to twenty yards of cotton cloth a month,
and a gun into the bargain at the end, if you do your work well?"

The pleased expression of Antonio's face could not have been greater had
he been offered twenty pounds sterling a month.  The reader may estimate
the value of this magnificent offer when we say that a yard of cotton
cloth was at that time sevenpence-halfpenny, so that Antonio's valuable
services were obtained for about 12 shillings, 6 pence a month, and a
gun which cost Harold less than twenty shillings in Zanzibar.

We may remark here that Antonio afterwards proved to be a stout, able,
willing man, and a faithful servant, although a most arrant coward.

From this time Harold's difficulties in regard to men vanished.  With
Antonio's able assistance nine were procured, stout, young, able-bodied
fellows they were, and all more or less naked.  Two of these were
half-caste brothers, named respectively Jose and Oliveira; two were
half-wild negroes of the Somali tribe named Nakoda and Conda; three were
negroes of the Makololo tribe, who had accompanied Dr Livingstone on
his journey from the far interior of Africa to the East Coast, and were
named respectively Jumbo, Zombo, and Masiko; and finally two, named
Songolo and Mabruki, were free negroes of Quillimane.  Thus the whole
band, including Disco and the leader, formed a goodly company of twelve
stout men.

Of course Harold armed them all with guns and knives.  Himself and Disco
carried Enfield rifles; besides which, Harold took with him a spare
rifle of heavy calibre, carrying large balls, mingled with tin to harden
them.  This latter was intended for large game.  Landing near the East
Luavo mouth of the Zambesi, our hero was fortunate enough to procure two
serviceable canoes, into which he transferred himself, his men, and his
goods, and, bidding adieu to the Arab skipper of the dhow, commenced his
journey into the interior of Africa.



CHAPTER FIVE.

IN WHICH THE TRAVELLERS ENJOY THEMSELVES EXTREMELY, AND DISCO
LILLIHAMMER SEES SEVERAL ASTONISHING SIGHTS.

Behold our travellers, then, fairly embarked on the waters of the great
African river Zambesi, in two canoes, one of which is commanded by
Harold Seadrift, the other by Disco Lillihammer.

Of course these enterprising chiefs were modest enough at first to allow
two of the Makololo men, Jumbo and Zombo, to wield the steering-oars,
but after a few days' practice they became sufficiently expert, as Disco
said, to take the helm, except when strong currents rendered the
navigation difficult, or when the weather became so "piping hot" that
none but men clad in black skins could work.

We must however guard the reader here from supposing that it is always
piping hot in Africa.  There are occasional days when the air may be
styled lukewarm, when the sky is serene, and when all nature seems
joyful and enjoyable,--days in which a man opens his mouth wide and
swallows down the atmosphere; when he _feels_ his health and strength,
and rejoices in them, and when, if he be not an infidel, he also feels a
sensation of gratitude to the Giver of all good.

On such a day, soon after entering the East Luavo mouth of the Zambesi,
the explorers, for such we may almost venture to style them, ascended
the smooth stream close to the left bank, Harold leading, Disco
following closely in his wake.

The men rowed gently, as if they enjoyed the sweet calm of early
morning, and were unwilling to disturb the innumerable flocks of
wild-fowl that chuckled among the reeds and sedges everywhere.  Harold
sat in the stern, leaning back, and only dipping the steering-oar lazily
now and then to keep the canoe from running on the bank, or plunging
into a forest of gigantic rushes.  Disco, having resolved to solace
himself with a whiff of his darling pipe, had resigned "the helm" to
Jumbo, and laid himself in a position of comfort which admitted of his
resting his head on the gunwale in such a manner that, out of the
corners of his eyes, he could gaze down into the water.

The part of the river they had reached was so perfectly still that every
cloud in the sky, every mangrove, root and spray, and every bending
bulrush, was perfectly reproduced in the reflected world below.
Plaintive cries of wild-fowl formed appropriate melody, to which
chattering groups of monkeys and croaking bull-frogs contributed a fine
tenor and bass.

"Hallo, Disco!" exclaimed Harold in a subdued key, looking over his
shoulder.

"Ay, ay, sir?" sighed the seaman, without moving his position.

"Range up alongside; I want to speak to you."

"Ay, ay, sir.--Jumbo, you black-faced villain, d'ee hear that? give way
and go 'longside."

Good-humoured Jumbo _spoke_ very little English, but had come to
understand a good deal during his travels with Dr Livingstone.  He
wrinkled his visage and showed his brilliant teeth on receiving the
order.  Muttering a word to the men, and giving a vigorous stroke, he
shot up alongside of the leader's canoe.

"You seem comfortable," said Harold, with a laugh, as Disco's vast
visage appeared at his elbow.

"I is."

"Isn't this jolly?" continued Harold.

"No, sir, 'taint."

"Why, what d'you mean?"

"I means that jolly ain't the word, by a long way, for to express the
natur' o' my feelin's.  There ain't no word as I knows on as 'ud come up
to it.  If I wor a fylosipher, now, I'd coin a word for the occasion.
P'raps," continued Disco, drawing an unusually long whiff from his pipe,
"p'raps, not bein' a fylosipher, I might nevertheless try to coin one.
Wot's the Latin, now, for heaven?"

"Caelum," replied Harold.

"Sailum, eh?  An' wot's the 'arth?"

"Terra."

"Terra? well now, wot rediklous names to give to 'em," said Disco,
shaking his head gravely, "I can't see why the ancients couldn't ha' bin
satisfied with the names that _we'd_ given 'em.  Hows'ever, that's
neither here nor there.  My notion o' the state o' things that we've got
into here, as they now stand, is, that they are sailumterracious, which
means heaven-upon-earth, d'ee see?"

As Disco pronounced the word with a powerful emphasis on the _u-m_ part
of it the sound was rather effective, and seemed to please him.

"Right; you're right, or nearly so," replied Harold; "but don't you
think the word savours too much of perfection, seeing that breakfast
would add to the pleasure of the present delightful state of things, and
make them even more sailumterracious than they are?"

"No, sir, no; the word ain't too parfect," replied Disco, with a look of
critical severity; "part of it is 'arth, and 'arth is imparfect, bein'
susceptible of a many improvements, among which undoubtedly is
breakfast, likewise dinner an' supper, to say nothin' of lunch an' tea,
which is suitable only for babbies an' wimen; so I agrees with you, sir,
that the state o' things will be sailumterraciouser if we goes ashore
an' has breakfast."

He tapped the head of his very black little pipe on the edge of the
canoe, and heaved a sigh of contentment as he watched the ash-ball that
floated away on the stream; then, rousing himself, he seized the
steering-oar and followed Harold into a small creek, which was
pleasantly overshadowed by the rich tropical foliage of that region.

While breakfast was being prepared by Antonio, whose talents as
_chef-de-cuisine_ were of the highest order, Harold took his rifle and
rambled into the bush in search of game--any kind of game, for at that
time he had had no experience whatever of the sport afforded by the
woods of tropical Africa, and, having gathered only a few vague ideas
from books, he went forth with all the pleasurable excitement and
expectation that we may suppose peculiar to discoverers.

Disco Lillihammer having only consumed his first pipe of tobacco, and
holding it to be a duty which he owed to himself to consume two before
breakfast, remained at the camp-fire to smoke and chaff Antonio, whose
good-nature was only equalled by his activity.

"Wot have 'ee got there?" inquired Disco, as Antonio poured a quantity
of seed into a large pot.

"Dis? vy, hims be mapira," replied the interpreter, with a benignant
smile.  "Hims de cheef food ob dis konterie."

It must be remarked here that Antonio's English, having been acquired
from all sorts of persons, in nearly every tropical part of the globe,
was somewhat of a jumble, being a compound of the broken English spoken
by individuals among the Germans, French, Portuguese, Arabs, and
Negroes, with whom he had at various times associated, modified by his
own ignorance, and seasoned with a dash of his own inventive fancy.

"Is it good?" asked Disco.

"Goot!" exclaimed Antonio.  Being unable to find words to express
himself, the enthusiastic cook placed his hand on the region which was
destined ere long to become a receptacle for the mapira, and rolled his
eyes upwards in rapture.  "Hah! oo sall see behind long."

"Before long, you mean," observed the seaman.

"Dat all same ting, s'long's you onerstand him," replied Antonio
complacently.--"Bring vatter now, Jumbo.  Put him in careful.  Not spill
on de fire--zo--goot."

Jumbo filled up the kettle carefully, and a broad grin overspread his
black visage, partly because he was easily tickled into a condition of
risibility by the cool off-hand remarks of Disco Lillihammer, and partly
because, having acquired his own small smattering of English from Dr
Livingstone, he was intelligent enough to perceive that in regard to
Antonio's language there was something peculiar.

"Now, go fitch noder kittle--queek."

"_Yis_, sar--zo--goot," replied Jumbo, mimicking the interpreter, and
going off with a vociferous laugh at his little joke, in which he was
joined by his sable clansmen, Masiko and Zombo.

"Hims got 'nuff of impoodidence," said the interpreter, as he bustled
about his avocations.

"He's not the only one that's got more than enough impoodidence," said
Disco, pushing a fine straw down the stem of his "cutty," to make it
draw better.  "I say, Tony," (our regardless seaman had already thus
mutilated his name), "you seem to have plenty live stock in them parts."

"Plenty vat?" inquired the interpreter, with a perplexed expression.

"Why, plenty birds and beasts,--live stock we calls it, meanin' thereby
livin' creeturs."  He pointed towards an opening in the mangroves,
through which were visible the neighbouring mud and sand flats, swarming
with wild-fowl, and conspicuous among which were large flocks of
pelicans, who seemed to be gorging themselves comfortably from an
apparently inexhaustible supply of fish in the pools left by the
receding tide.

"Ho, yis, me perceive; yis, plenty bird and beast--fishes too, and
crawbs--look dare."

He pointed to a part of the sands nearest to their encampment which
appeared to be alive with some small creatures.

"That's coorious," said Disco, removing his pipe, and regarding the
phenomenon with some interest.

"No, 'taint koorous, it's crawbs," replied Antonio.

"Crabs, is it?" said Disco, rising and sauntering down to the sands; for
he possessed an inquiring mind, with a special tendency to investigate
the habits (pranks, as he called them) of the lower animals, which, in
other circumstances, might have made him a naturalist.

Muttering to himself--he was fond of muttering to himself, it felt
companionable,--"coorious, very coorious, quite 'stroanary," he crept
stealthily to the edge of the mangroves, and there discovered that the
sands were literally alive with myriads of minute crabs, which were
actively engaged--it was supposed by those who ought to know best--in
gathering their food.  The moment the tide ebbed from any part of the
sands, out came these crablets in swarms, and set to work, busy as bees,
ploughing up the sand, and sifting it, apparently for food, until the
whole flat was rendered rough by their incessant labours.  Approaching
cautiously, Disco observed that each crab, as he went along sidewise,
gathered a round bit of moist sand at his mouth, which was quickly
brushed away by one of his claws, and replaced by another, and another,
as fast as they could be brushed aside.

"Eatin' sand they are!" muttered Disco in surprise; but presently the
improbability of sand being very nutritious food, even for crabs, forced
itself on him, and he muttered his conviction that they "was scrapin'
for wittles."

Having watched the crabs a considerable time, and observed that they
frequently interrupted their labours to dart suddenly into their holes
and out again--for the purpose, he conjectured, of "havin' a drop o'
summat to wet their whistles,"--Disco thrust the cutty into his vest
pocket, and walked a little further out on the flat in the hope of
discovering some new objects of interest.  Nor was he disappointed.
Besides finding that the pools left by the tide swarmed with varieties
of little fish--many of them being "coorious,"--he was fortunate enough
to witness a most surprising combat.

It happened thus:--Perceiving, a little to his right, some small
creature hopping about on the sand near to a little pool, he turned
aside to observe it more closely.  On his drawing near, the creature
jumped into the pool.  Disco advanced to the edge, gazed intently into
the water, and saw nothing except his own reflected image at the bottom.
Presently the creature reappeared.  It was a small fish--a familiar
fish, too--which he had known in the pools of his native land by the
name of blenny.  As the blenny appeared to wish to approach the edge of
the pool, Disco retired, and, placing a hand on each knee, stooped, in
order to make himself as small as possible.  He failed, the diminution
in his height being fully counterbalanced by the latitudinal extension
of his elbows!

Presently the blenny put its head out of the water, and looked about.
We speak advisedly.  The blenny is altogether a singular, an exceptional
fish.  It can, and does, look sidewise, upwards and downwards, with its
protruding eyes, as knowingly, and with as much vivacity, as if it were
a human being.  This power in a fish has something of the same awesome
effect on an observer that might possibly result were a horse to raise
its head and smile at him.

Seeing that the coast was clear, for Disco stood as motionless as a
mangrove tree, blenny hopped upon the dry land.  The African blenny is a
sort of amphibious animal, living nearly as much out of the water as in
it.  Indeed its busiest time, we are told, [_See Dr Livingstone's
Zambesi and its Tributaries_, page 843.] is at low water, when, by means
of its pectoral fins it crawls out on the sand and raises itself into
something of a standing attitude, with its bright eyes keeping a sharp
look-out for the light-coloured flies on which it feeds.

For several seconds Disco gazed at the fish, and the fish gazed around,
even turning its head a little, as well as its eyes, on this side and on
that.  Presently a small fly, with that giddy heedlessness which
characterises the race, alighted about two inches in front of blenny's
nose.  Instantly the fish leaped that vast space, alighted with its
underset mouth just over the fly, which immediately rose into it and was
entombed.

"Brayvo!" passed through Disco's brain, but no sound issued from his
lips.

Presently another of the giddy ones alighted in front of blenny about a
foot distant.  This appeared to be much beyond his leaping powers, for,
with a slow, stealthy motion, like a cat, he began deliberately to stalk
his victim.  The victim appeared to be blind, for it took no notice of
the approaching monster.  Blenny displayed marvellous powers of
self-control, for he moved on steadily without accelerating his speed
until within about two inches of his prey--then he leapt as before, and
another fly was entombed.

"Well done!" exclaimed Disco, mentally, but still his lips and body were
motionless as before.

At this point an enemy, in the shape of another blenny, appeared on the
scene.  It came up out of a small pool close at hand, and seemed to
covet the first blenny's pool, and to set about taking possession of it
as naturally as if it had been a human being; for, observing, no doubt,
that its neighbour was busily engaged, it moved quietly in the direction
of the coveted pool.  Being a very little fish, it was not observed by
Disco, but it was instantly noticed by the first blenny, which, being
rather the smaller of the two, we shall style the Little one.

Suddenly Big Blenny threw off all disguise, bounded towards the pool,
which was about a foot square, and plunged in.  No mortal blenny could
witness this unwarrantable invasion of its hearth and home without being
stirred to indignant wrath.  With eyes that seemed to flash fire, and
dorsal fin bristling up with rage, Little Blenny made five tremendous
leaps of full three inches each, and disappeared.  Another moment and a
miniature storm ruffled the pool: for a few seconds the heavings of the
deep were awful; then, out jumped Big Blenny and tried to flee, but out
jumped Little Blenny and caught him by the tail; round turned the big
one and caught the other by the jaw.

"Hallo, Disco! breakfast's ready--where are you?" shouted Harold from
the woods.

Disco replied not.  It is a question whether he heard the hail at all,
so engrossed was he in this remarkable fight.

"Brayvo!" he exclaimed aloud, when Little Blenny shook his big enemy off
and rolled over him.

"Cleverly done!" he shouted, when Big Blenny with a dart took refuge in
the pool.

"I knowed it," he cried approvingly, when Little Blenny forced him a
second time to evacuate the premises, "Go in an' win, little 'un,"
thought Disco.

Thus the battle raged furiously, now in the water, now on the sand,
while the excited seaman danced round the combatants--both of whom
appeared to have become deaf and blind with rage--and gave them strong
encouragement, mingled with appropriate advice and applause.  In fact
Disco's delight would have been perfect, had the size of the
belligerents admitted of his patting the little blenny on the back; but
this of course was out of the question!

At last having struck, worried, bitten, and chased each other by land
and sea for several minutes, these pugnacious creatures seized each
other by their respective throats, like two bull-dogs, and fell
exhausted on the sand.

"It's a draw!" exclaimed Disco, rather disappointed.

"No, 'tain't," he said, as Little Blenny, reviving, rose up and renewed
the combat more furiously than ever; but it was soon ended, for Big
Blenny suddenly turned and fled to his own pool.  Little Blenny did not
crow; he did not even appear to be elated.  He evidently felt that he
had been called on to perform a disagreeable but unavoidable duty, and
deemed it quite unnecessary to wave banners, fire guns, or ring bells in
celebration of his victory, as he dived back into his pool amid the
ringing cheers of Disco Lillihammer.

"Upon my word, if you have not gone stark mad, you must have had a
sunstroke," said Harold, coming forward, "what's the matter?"

"Too late! too late!" cried Disco, in a mingled tone of amusement and
regret.

"D'ye think it is?  Are you incurable already?" asked his friend.

"Too late to see the most a-stonishin' scrimmage I ever did behold in
_my_ life," said Disco.

The description of this scrimmage gave the worthy seaman a subject for
conversation and food for meditation during the greater part of the time
spent over the morning meal, and there is no saying how long he would
have kept referring to and chuckling over it--to the great admiration
and sympathy of the black fellows, who are, as a race, excessively fond
of jocularity and fun--had not another of the denizens of the mangrove
jungle diverted his attention and thoughts rather suddenly.

This was a small monkey, which, seated on a branch overhead, peered at
the breakfast-party from among the leaves, with an expression of inquiry
and of boundless astonishment that it is quite impossible to describe.
Surprise of the most sprightly nature, if we may say so, sat enthroned
on that small monkey's countenance, an expression which was enhanced by
the creature's motions, for, not satisfied with taking a steady look at
the intruders from the right side of a leaf, it thrust forward its
little black head on the left side of it, and then under it, by way of
variety; but no additional light seemed to result from these changes in
the point of observation, for the surprise did not diminish.

In one of its intent stares it caught the eye of Disco.  The seaman's
jaws stopped, as if suddenly locked, and his eyes opened to their
widest.

The monkey seemed to feel uneasily that it had attracted attention, for
it showed the smallest possible glimpse of its teeth.  The action,
coupled with the leafy shadows which fell on its countenance, had the
effect of a smile, which caused Disco to burst into a loud laugh and
point upwards.  To bound from its position to a safer retreat, and
thence stare at Disco with deep indignation, and a threatening display
of all its teeth and gums, in addition to its looks of surprise, was the
work of a moment on the part of the small monkey, whereat Disco burst
into a renewed roar of laughter, in which he was joined by the whole
party.

"Are there many o' them fellows hereabouts?" inquired the seaman of
Antonio.

"Ho, yis, lots ob 'em.  T'ousands ebery whars; see, dare am morer."

He pointed to another part of the umbrageous canopy overhead, where the
face of a still smaller monkey was visible, engaged, like the previous
one, in an earnest scrutiny of the party, but with a melancholy, rather
than a surprised, expression of visage.

"Wot a miserable, broken-hearted thing!" said Disco, grinning, in which
act he was immediately copied by the melancholy monkey, though from
different motives.

Disco was very fond of monkeys.  All his life he had felt a desire to
pat and fondle those shivering creatures which he had been accustomed to
see on barrel-organs in his native land, and the same strong impulse
came over him now.

"Wot a pity the creeturs smell so bad, and ain't cleanly," he remarked,
gazing affectionately up among the leaves, "they'd make such capital
pets; why, there's another."

This remark had reference to a third monkey, of large dimensions and
fierce countenance, which at that moment rudely thrust the melancholy
monkey aside, and took its place.  The latter, with a humble air and
action, took up a new position, somewhat nearer to the fire, where its
sad countenance was more distinctly seen.

"Well, it does seem a particularly sorrowful monkey, that," said Harold,
laughing, as he helped himself to another canful of tea.

"The most miserable objic' I ever did see," observed Disco.

The negroes looked at each other and laughed.  They were accustomed to
monkeys, and took little notice of them, but they were mightily tickled
by Disco's amusement, for he had laid down his knife and fork, and shook
a good deal with internal chuckling, as he gazed upwards.

"One would suppose, now," he said softly, "that it had recently seen its
father and mother, and all its brothers and sisters, removed by a
violent death, or sold into slavery."

"Ha! they never see that," said Harold; "the brutes may fight and kill,
but they never _enslave_ each other.  It is the proud prerogative of man
to do that."

"That's true, sir, worse luck, as Paddy says," rejoined Disco.  "But
look there: wot's them coorious things round the creetur's waist--a pair
o' the werry smallest hands--and, hallo! a face no bigger than a button!
I do believe that it's--"

Disco did not finish the sentence, but he was right.  The small
melancholy monkey was a mother!

Probably that was the cause of its sorrow.  It is a touching thought
that anxiety for its tiny offspring perhaps had furrowed that monkey's
visage with the wrinkles of premature old age.  That danger threatened
it on every side was obvious, for no sooner had it taken up its new
position, after its unceremonious ejection by the fierce monkey, than
the sprightly monkey, before referred to, conceived a plot which it
immediately proceeded to carry into execution.  Observing that the tail
of the sad one hung down in a clear space below the branch on which it
sat, the sprightly fellow quickly, but with intense caution and silence,
crept towards it, and when within a yard or so sprang into the air and
caught the tail!

A wild shriek, and what Disco styled a "scrimmage," ensued, during which
the mother monkey gave chase to him of the lively visage, using her
arms, legs, and tail promiscuously to grasp and hold on to branches, and
leaving her extremely little one to look out for itself.  This it seemed
quite capable of doing, for no limpet ever stuck to a solid rock with
greater tenacity than did that infant to the maternal waist throughout
the chase.  The hubbub appeared to startle the whole monkey race,
revealing the fact that troops of other monkeys had, unobserved, been
gazing at the strangers in silent wonder, since the time of their
landing.

Pleasant however, though this state of things undeniably was, it could
not be expected to last.  Breakfast being concluded, it became necessary
that Disco should tear himself from the spot which, having first solaced
himself with a pipe, he did with a good grace, remarking, as he
re-embarked and "took the helm" of his canoe, that he had got more
powerful surprises that morning than he had ever before experienced in
any previous twelvemonth of his life.

Before long he received many more surprises, especially one of a very
different and much less pleasant nature, an account of which will be
found in the next chapter.



CHAPTER SIX.

DESCRIBES SEVERAL NEW AND SURPRISING INCIDENTS, WHICH MUST BE READ TO BE
FULLY APPRECIATED.

To travel with one's mouth and eyes opened to nearly their utmost width
in a state of surprised stupefaction, may be unavoidable, but it cannot
be said to be either becoming or convenient.  Attention in such a case
is apt to be diverted from the business in hand, and flies have a
tendency to immolate themselves in the throat.

Nevertheless, inconvenient though the condition was, our friend Disco
Lillihammer was so afflicted with astonishment at what he heard and saw
in this new land, that he was constantly engaged in swallowing flies and
running his canoe among shallows and rushes, insomuch that he at last
resigned the steering-oar until familiarity with present circumstances
should tone him down to a safe condition of equanimity.

And no wonder that Disco was surprised; no wonder that his friend Harold
Seadrift shared in his astonishment and delight, for they were at once,
and for the first time in their lives, plunged into the very heart of
jungle life in equatorial Africa!  Those who have never wandered far
from the comparatively tame regions of our temperate zone, can form but
a faint conception of what it is to ramble in the tropics, and therefore
can scarcely be expected to sympathise fully with the mental condition
of our heroes as they ascended the Zambesi.  Everything was so
thoroughly strange; sights and sounds so vastly different from what they
had been accustomed to see and hear, that it seemed as though they had
landed on another planet.  Trees, shrubs, flowers, birds, beasts,
insects, and reptiles, all were unfamiliar, except indeed, one or two of
the more conspicuous trees and animals, which had been so imprinted on
their minds by means of nursery picture-books that, on first beholding
them, Disco unconsciously paid these books the compliment of saying that
the animals "wos uncommon like the picturs."

Disco's mental condition may be said, for the first two or three days,
to have been one of gentle ever-flowing surprise, studded thickly with
little bursts of keen astonishment.

The first part of the river ran between mangrove jungle, in regard to
which he remarked that "them there trees had legs like crabs," in which
observation he was not far wrong, for, when the tide was out, the roots
of the mangroves rose high out of the mud, forming supports, as it were,
for the trees to stand on.

But it was the luxuriance of the vegetation that made the most powerful
impression on the travellers.  It seemed as if the various groups and
families of the vegetable kingdom had been warmed by the sun into a
state of unwonted affection, for everything appeared to entertain the
desire to twine round and embrace everything else.  One magnificent
screw-palm in particular was so overwhelmed by affectionate parasites
that his natural shape was almost entirely concealed.  Others of the
trees were decked with orchilla weed.  There were ferns so gigantic as
to be almost worthy of being styled trees, and palm-bushes so sprawling
as to suggest the idea of huge vegetable spiders.  Bright yellow fruit
gleamed among the graceful green leaves of the mangroves; wild
date-palms gave variety to the scene, if that had been needed, which it
was not, and masses of umbrageous plants with large yellow flowers grew
along the banks, while, down among the underwood, giant roots rose in
fantastic convolutions above ground, as if the earth were already too
full, and there wasn't room for the whole of them.  There was an
antediluvian magnificence, a prehistoric snakiness, a sort of primeval
running-to-seedness, which filled Harold and Disco with feelings of awe,
and induced a strange, almost unnatural tendency to regard Adam and Eve
as their contemporaries.

Animal life was not wanting in this paradise.  Frequently did our seaman
give vent to "Hallo!"  "There they go!"  "Look out for the little 'un
wi' the long tail!" and similar expressions, referring of course to his
favourite monkeys, which ever and anon peered out upon the strangers
with looks of intensity, for whatever their expression might be--
sadness, grief, interrogation, wrath, surprise--it was always in the
superlative degree.  There were birds also, innumerable.  One, styled
the "king-hunter," sang wild exultant airs, as if it found king-hunting
to be an extremely exhilarating occupation, though what sort of kings it
hunted we cannot tell.  Perhaps it was the king of beasts, perhaps the
kingfisher, a bright specimen of which was frequently seen to dart out
from the banks, but we profess ignorance on this point.  There were
fish-hawks also, magnificent fellows, which sat in regal dignity on the
tops of the mangrove trees, and the glossy ibis, with others of the
feathered tribe too numerous to mention.

Large animals also were there in abundance, though not so frequently
seen as those which have been already mentioned.  Disco occasionally
made known the fact that such, or something unusual, had transpired, by
the sudden and violent exclamation of "What's that?" in a voice so loud
that "that," whatever it might be, sometimes bolted or took to flight
before any one else caught sight of it.

"Hallo!" he exclaimed, on one such occasion, as the canoes turned a bend
of the river.

"What now?" demanded Harold, looking at his companion to observe the
direction of his eyes.

"I'm a Dutchman," exclaimed Disco in a hoarse whisper that might have
been heard half a mile off, "if it's not a zebra!"

"So it is; my rifle--look sharp!" said Harold eagerly.

The weapon was handed to him, but before it could be brought to bear,
the beautiful striped creature had tossed its head, snorted, whisked its
tail, kicked up its heels, and dashed into the jungle.

"Give way, lads; let's after him," shouted Disco, turning the canoe's
bow to shore.

"Hold on," cried Harold; "you might as well go after a needle in a
haystack, or a locomotive."

"So I might," admitted Disco, with a mortified air, resuming his course;
"but it ain't in reason to expect a feller to keep quiet w'en he sees
one o' the very picturs of his child'ood, so to speak, come alive an'
kick up its heels like that."

Buffaloes were also seen in the grassy glades, but it proved difficult
to come within range of them; also wart-hogs, and three different kinds
of antelope.

Of these last Harold shot several, and they were found to be excellent
food.

Human beings were also observed, but those first encountered fled at the
sight of the white men, as if they had met with their worst foes; and
such was in very truth the case,--if we may regard the Portuguese
half-castes of that coast as white men,--for these negroes were runaway
slaves, who stood the chance of being shot, or drowned, or whipped to
death, if recaptured.

Other animals they saw--some queer, some terrible, nearly all strange--
and last, though not least, the hippopotamus.

When Disco first saw this ungainly monster he was bereft of speech for
some minutes.  The usual "Hallo!" stuck in his throat and well-nigh
choked him.  He could only gasp, and point.

"Ay, there goes a hippopotamus," said Harold, with the easy nonchalance
of a man who had been to the Zoological Gardens, and knew all about it.
Nevertheless it was quite plain that Harold was much excited, for he
almost dropped his oar overboard in making a hasty grasp at his rifle.
Before he could fire, the creature gaped wide, as if in laughter, and
dived.

"Unfortunate!" said Harold, in a philosophically careless tone; "never
mind, we shall see lots more of them."

"Ugliness embodied!" said Disco, heaving a deep sigh.

"But him's goot for eat," said Antonio, smacking his lips.

"Is he?" demanded Disco of Jumbo, whose enjoyment of the sailor's
expressive looks was so great, that, whenever the latter opened his
lips, the former looked back over his shoulder with a broad grin of
expectation.

"Ho yis; de hiputmus am fust-rate grub for dis yer boy," replied the
negro, rolling his red tongue inside his mouth suggestively.

"He never eats man, does he?" inquired Disco.

"Nevair," replied Antonio.

"He looks as if he might," returned the seaman; "anyhow, he's got a
mouth big enough to do it.  You're quite sure he don't, I 'spose?"

"Kite sure an' sartin; but me hab seen him tak mans," said Antonio.

"Tak mans, wot d'ee mean by that?"

"Tak him," repeated Antonio.  "Go at him's canoe or boat--bump with
him's head--dash in de timbers--capsize, so's man hab to swim shore--all
as got clear ob de crokidils."

While Disco was meditating on this unpleasant trait of character in the
hippopotamus, the specimen which they had just seen, or some other
member of his family, having compassion, no doubt, on the seaman's
ignorance, proceeded to illustrate its method of attack then and there
by rising suddenly under the canoe with such force, that its head and
shoulders shot high out of the water, into which it fell with a heavy
splash.  Harold's rifle being ready, he fired just as it was
disappearing.

Whether he hit or not is uncertain, but next moment the enraged animal
rose again under Disco's canoe, which it nearly lifted out of the water
in its efforts to seize it in its mouth.  Fortunately the canoe was too
flat for its jaws to grip; the monster's blunt teeth were felt, as well
as heard, to grind across the planks; and Disco being in the stern,
which was raised highest, was almost thrown overboard by the jerk.

Rising about two yards off, the hippopotamus looked savagely at the
canoe, and was about to dive again when Harold gave it a second shot.
The large gun being fortunately ready, had been handed to him by one of
the Makololo men.  The heavy ball took effect behind the eye, and killed
the animal almost instantaneously.  The hippopotamus usually sinks when
shot dead, but in this case they were so near that, before it had time
to sink, Zombo, assisted by his friend Jumbo, made a line fast to it,
and it was finally dragged to the shore.  The landing, however, was much
retarded by the crocodiles, which now showed themselves for the first
time, and kept tugging and worrying the carcase much as a puppy tugs and
worries a ladies' muff; affording Disco and his friend strong reason to
congratulate themselves that the canoe had not been overturned.

The afternoon was pretty well advanced when the landing was accomplished
on a small sandy island, and as the spot was suitable for encamping,
they determined to remain there for the night, and feast.

There are many points of resemblance between savage and civilised
festivities.  Whether the performers be the black sons of Africa, or the
white fathers of Europe, there is the same powerful tendency to eat too
much, and the same display of good-fellowship; for it is an indisputable
fact that feeding man is amiable, unless, indeed, he be dyspeptic.
There are also, however, various points of difference.  The savage,
owing to the amount of fresh air and exercise which he is compelled to
take, usually eats with greater appetite, and knows nothing of equine
dreams or sleepless nights.  On the whole, we incline to the belief
that, despite his lack of refinement and ceremony, the savage has the
best of it in this matter.

Disco Lillihammer's visage, during the progress of that feast, formed a
study worthy of a physiognomist.  Every new achievement, whether
trifling or important, performed by the Makololo triad, Jumbo, Zombo,
and Masiko--every fresh hippopotamus steak skewered and set up to roast
by the half-caste brothers Jose and Oliveira--every lick bestowed on
their greasy fingers by the Somali negroes Nakoda and Conda, and every
sigh of intense satisfaction heaved by the so-called "freemen" of
Quillimane, Songolo and Mabruki, was watched, commented on, and, if we
may say so, reflected in the animated countenance of the stout seaman,
with such variety of expression, and such an interesting compound of
grin and wrinkle, that poor Jumbo, who gazed at him over hippopotamus
ribs and steaks, and tried hard not to laugh, was at last compelled to
turn away his eyes, in order that his mouth might have fair-play.

But wonderful, sumptuous, and every way satisfactory though that feast
was, it bore no comparison whatever to another feast carried on at the
same time by another party, about fifty yards off, where the carcase of
the hippopotamus had been left half in and half out of the water--for,
of course, being fully more than a ton in weight, only a small portion
of the creature was appropriated by the canoe-men.  The negroes paid no
attention whatever to this other festive party; but in a short time
Disco turned his head to one side, and said--"Wy, wot's that splashin' I
hears goin' on over there?"

"I suspect it must be some beast or other that has got hold of the
carcase," replied Harold, who was himself busy with a portion of the
same.

"Yis, dat am krokidils got 'im," said Antonio, with his mouth full--very
full.

"You don't say so?" said Disco, washing down the steak with a brimming
cup of tea.

No one appeared to think it worth while to asseverate the fact, for it
was self-evident.  Several crocodiles were supping, and in doing so they
tore away at the carcase with such violence, and lashed the water so
frequently with their powerful tails, as to render it clear that their
feast necessitated laborious effort, and seemed less a recreation than a
duty.  Moreover, they sat at their meat like insatiable gourmands, so
long into the night that supper became transmuted into breakfast, and
Harold's rest was greatly disturbed thereby.  He was too sleepy and
lazy, however, to rise and drive them away.

Next morning the travellers started early, being anxious to pass, as
quietly as possible, a small Portuguese town, near to which it was said
a party of runaway slaves and rebels against the Government were engaged
in making depredations.

When grey dawn was beginning to rise above the tree-tops, they left
their encampment in profound silence, and rowed up stream as swiftly as
possible.  They had not advanced far, when, on turning a point covered
with tall reeds, Zombo, who was bowman in the leading canoe, suddenly
made a sign to the men to cease rowing.

"What's the matter?" whispered Harold.

The negro pointed through the reeds, and whispered the single word
"Canoe."

By this time the other canoe had ranged up alongside, and after a brief
consultation between Harold and Disco, it was decided that they should
push gently into the reeds, and wait till the strange canoe should pass;
but a few seconds sufficed to show that the two men who paddled it did
not intend to pass down the river, for they pushed straight out towards
the deepest part of the stream.  They were, however, carried down so
swiftly by the current that they were brought quite near to the point of
rushes where our travellers lay concealed--so near that their voices
could be distinctly heard.  They talked in Portuguese.

Antonio muttered a few words, and Harold observed that there was a good
deal of excitement in the looks of his men.

"What's the matter?" he asked anxiously.

Antonio shook his head.  "Dat nigger goin' to be drownded," he said;
"bad nigger--obstropolous nigger, suppose."

"Wot!" exclaimed Disco in a whisper, "goin' to be drownded! wot d'ee
mean?"

Antonio proceeded to explain that it was a custom amongst the Portuguese
slave-owners there, when they found any of their slaves intractable or
refractory, to hire some individuals who, for a small sum, would bind
and carry off the incorrigible for the purpose of making away with him.
One method of effecting this was to tie him in a sack and throw him into
the river, the crocodiles making quite sure that the unfortunate being
should never again be seen, either alive or dead.  But before Antonio
had finished his brief explanation he was interrupted by an exclamation
from the horrified Englishmen, as they beheld the two men in the canoe
raise something between them which for a moment appeared to struggle
violently.

"Shove off! give way!" shouted Harold and Disco in the same breath, each
thrusting with his paddle so vigorously that the two canoes shot out
like arrows into the stream.

At the same instant there was a heavy plunge in the water beside the
strange canoe, and the victim sank.  Next moment one end of the sack
rose to the surface.  Both Harold and Disco made straight towards it,
but it sank again, and the two murderers paddled to the shore, on which
they drew up their canoe, intending to take to the bush, if necessary,
for safety.

Once again the sack rose not more than three yards from Disco's canoe.
The bold seaman knew that if it disappeared a third time there would be
little chance of its rising again.  He was prompt in action, and daring
to recklessness.  In one moment he had leaped overboard, dived, caught
the sack in his powerful grasp, and bore it to the surface.  The canoe
had been steered for him.  The instant he appeared, strong and ready
hands laid hold of him and his burden, and dragged them both inboard.

"Cut the lashin's and give him air," cried Disco, endeavouring to find
his clasp-knife; but one of the men quickly obeyed the order, and opened
the sack.

A groan of horror and pity burst from the seaman when he beheld the
almost insensible form of a powerful negro, whose back was lacerated
with innumerable ragged cuts, and covered with clotted blood.

"Where are the--"

He stopped short on looking round, and, observing that the two men were
standing on the shore, seized a double-barrelled gun.  The stream had
carried the canoe a considerable distance below the spot where the
murder had been attempted, but they were still within range.  Without a
moment's hesitation Disco took deliberate aim at them and fired.

Fortunately for him and his party Disco was a bad shot--nevertheless the
bullet struck so close to the feet of the two men that it drove the sand
and pebbles into their faces.  They turned at once and fled, but before
they reached the cover of the bushes the second barrel was fired, and
the bullet whistled close enough over their heads greatly to accelerate
their flight.

The negroes opened their great round eyes, and appeared awe-struck at
this prompt display of a thirst for vengeance on the part of one who had
hitherto shown no other disposition than hilarity, fun, and good-humour.

Harold was greatly relieved to observe Disco's failure, for, if he had
hit either of the fugitives, the consequences might have been very
disastrous to their expedition.

On being partially revived and questioned, it turned out that the poor
fellow had been whipped almost to death for refusing to be the
executioner in whipping his own mother.  This was a refinement in
cruelty on the part of these professedly Christian Portuguese, which our
travellers afterwards learned was by no means uncommon.

We are told by those who know that region well, and whose veracity is
unquestionable, that the Portuguese on the east coast of Africa live in
constant dread of their slaves rising against them.  No wonder,
considering the fiendish cruelties to which they subject them!  In order
to keep them in subjection they underfeed them, and if any of them
venture to steal cocoa-nuts from the trees the owners thereof are at
liberty to shoot them and throw them into the sea.  Slaves being cheap
there, and plentiful, are easily replaced, hence a cruel owner never
hesitates.  If a slave is refractory, and flogging only makes him worse,
his master bids the overseer flog him until "he will require no more."
Still further to keep them in subjection, the Portuguese then endeavour
to eradicate from them all sympathy with each other, and all natural
affection, by the following means.  If a woman requires to be flogged,
her brother or son is selected to do it.  Fathers are made to flog their
daughters, husbands their wives, and, if two young negroes of different
sexes are observed to show any symptoms of growing attachment for each
other, these two are chosen for each other's executioners.  [See
_Travels in Eastern Africa_, by Lyons McLeod, Esquire, FRGS, and late
Her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Mozambique, volume one pages 274 to
277, and volume two page 27.]

The poor wretch whom we have just described as having been saved from
death, to which he had been doomed for refusing to become the
executioner of his own mother, was placed as tenderly and comfortably as
circumstances would admit of in the bottom of the canoe, and then our
travellers pushed on with all haste--anxious to pass the town before the
two fugitives could give the alarm.

They were successful in this, probably because the two men may have hid
themselves for some time in the jungle, under the impression that the
exasperated Englishmen might be searching for them on shore.

Giving themselves time only to take a hurried meal in the middle of the
day, our travellers rowed continuously till sunset when, deeming it
probable that pursuit, if undertaken at all, must have been abandoned,
they put ashore on the right bank of the river and encamped.

When the sufferer had been made as comfortable as circumstances would
allow--for he was much weakened by loss of blood as well as agonised
with pain--and after he had been refreshed with food and some warm tea,
Harold questioned him, through the interpreter, as to his previous
history.

At first the man was brusque in his manner, and inclined to be sulky,
for a long course of cruelty had filled him with an intense hatred of
white men.  Indeed, an embittered and desperate spirit had begun to
induce callous indifference to all men, whether white or black.  But
kind treatment, to which he was evidently unaccustomed, and generous
diet, which was obviously new to him, had a softening influence, and
when Harold poured a small glass of rum into his tea, and Antonio added
a lump of sugar, and Disco pressed him tenderly to drink it off--which
he did--the effect was very decided; the settled scowl on his face
became unsettled, and gradually melting away, was replaced by a milder
and more manly look.  By degrees he became communicative, and, bit by
bit, his story was drawn from him.  It was brief, but very sorrowful.

His name, he said, was Chimbolo.  He belonged to a tribe which lived far
inland, beyond the Manganja country, which latter was a country of
hills.  He was not a Manganja man, but he had married a Manganja woman.
One night he, with his wife and mother, was paying a visit to the
village of his wife's relations, when a band of slave-hunters suddenly
attacked the village.  They were armed with guns, and at once began to
murder the old people and capture the young.  Resistance was useless.
His relatives were armed only with bows and spears.  Being taken by
surprise, they all fled in terror, but were pursued and few escaped.
His wife, he said--and a scowl of terrible ferocity crossed Chimbolo's
face as he said it--was about to become a mother at the time.  He seized
her in his arms on the first alarm, and fled with her into the bush,
where he concealed her, and then hurried back to aid his relations, but
met them--old and young, strong and feeble--flying for their lives.  It
was not possible to rally them; he therefore joined in the flight.
While running, a bullet grazed his head and stunned him.  Presently he
recovered and rose, but in a few minutes was overtaken and captured.  A
slave-stick was put on his neck, and, along with a number of Manganja
men, women, and children, he was driven down to the coast, and sold,
with a number of other men and women, among whom was his own mother, to
a Portuguese merchant on the coast, near the East Luavo mouth of the
Zambesi.  There he was found to be of a rebellious spirit, and at last
on positively refusing to lash his mother, his master ordered him to be
whipped to death, but, changing his mind before the order had been quite
carried out he ordered him to be bound hand and foot and taken away in a
sack.  As to his wife, he had never heard of her since that night which
was about two years past.  He knew that she had not been found, because
he had not seen her amongst the other captives.  If they had found her
they would have been sure to carry her off, because--here Chimbolo's
visage again grew diabolical--she was young, he said, and beautiful.

When all this had been translated into bad English by Antonio, Harold
asked if Chimbolo thought it probable that his wife was still alive in
the Manganja highlands.  To this the former said that he thought it
likely.

"W'y, then," said Disco, giving his right thigh a powerful slap, which
was his favourite method of emphasising a remark, "wot d'ye say, sir, to
lay our course for these same highlands, and try for to find out this
poor critter?"

"Just what was running in my own mind, Disco," said Harold, musing over
his supper.  "It does not make much difference what part of this country
we go to, being all new to us; and as Antonio tells me the Manganja
highlands are up the Shire river, which was explored by Dr Livingstone
not long ago, and is not distant many days' journey from this, I think
we can't do better than go there.  We shall have a good as well as a
definite object in view."

"Wery good, sir; I'm agreeable," returned Disco, reaching forth his
pewter plate; "another hunk o' that pottimus, Jumbo; it's better than
salt-junk any day; and I say, Jumbo, don't grin so much, else ye'll
enlarge yer pretty little mouth, which 'ud be a pity."

"Yis, saar," replied Jumbo, becoming very grave all of a sudden, but on
receiving a nod and an expressive wink from the seaman, he exploded
again, and rolled backward on the grass, in the performance of which act
he capsized Zombo's can of tea, whereupon Zombo leaped upon him in
wrath, and Masiko, as in duty bound, came to the rescue.

"Clap a stopper on yer noise, will 'ee?" cried Disco sternly, "else
you'll be bringin' all the wild beasts in these parts down on us to see
wot it's all about."

"That reminds me," said Harold, when quiet was restored, "that we must
now organise ourselves into something of a fighting band--a company, as
it were, of soldiers,--and take our regular spell of watching by night,
for, from all that I hear of the disturbed state of the country just
now, with these runaway slaves and rebels, it will be necessary to be on
our guard.  Of course," he added, smiling, "I suppose I must be captain
of the company, and you, Disco, shall be lieutenant."

"Not at all," replied the seaman, shaking his head, and frowning at
Jumbo, whose brilliant teeth at once responded to the glance, "not at
all, none of your sodgerin' for me.  I never could abide the lobsters.
Fust-mate, sir, that's wot _I_ am, if I'm to be expected to do my
dooty."

"Well then, first-mate be it," rejoined Harold, "and Antonio shall be
serjeant-major--"

"Bo's'n--bo's'n," suggested Disco; "keep up appearances wotiver ye do,
an' don't let the memory of salt water go down."

"Very good," said Harold, laughing; "then you shall be boatswain,
Antonio, as well as cook, and I will instruct you in the first part of
your duty, which will be to keep watch for an hour while the rest of us
sleep.  My first-mate will teach you the whistling part of a boatswain's
duty, if that should be required--"

"Ah, and the roar," interrupted Disco, "a bo's'n would be nothin'
without his roar--"

At that moment the woods around them were filled with a tremendous and
very unexpected roar, which caused the whole party to spring up, and
induced the new bo's'n to utter a yell of terror that would have done
credit to the whistle of the most violent bo's'n on the sea.  Next
moment the travellers were surrounded by a large and excited band of
armed negroes.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

ENEMIES ARE CHANGED INTO FRIENDS--OUR TRAVELLERS PENETRATE INTO THE
INTERIOR OF THE LAND.

To possess the power of looking perfectly calm and unconcerned when you
are in reality considerably agitated and rather anxious, is extremely
useful in any circumstances, but especially so when one happens to be in
the midst of grinning, gesticulating, naked savages.

Our hero, Harold Seadrift possessed that power in an eminent degree, and
his first-mate, Disco Lillihammer, was not a whit behind him.  Although
both had started abruptly to their legs at the first alarm, and drawn
their respective revolvers, they no sooner found themselves surrounded
by overwhelming numbers than they lowered their weapons, and, turning
back to back, faced the intruders with calm countenances.

"Sit down, men, every one of you except Antonio," said Harold, in a
quiet, but clear and decided voice.

His men, who, having left their guns in the canoe, were utterly
helpless, quietly obeyed.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded Antonio, by Harold's
order.

To this a tall negro, who was obviously the leader of the band, replied
in the native tongue,--"It matters little who we are; you are in our
power."

"Not quite," said Harold, slightly moving his revolver.  "Tell him that
he _may_ overcome us, but before he does so my friend and I carry the
lives of twelve of his men in our pistols."

The negro chief, who quite understood the powers of a revolver,
replied--"Tell your master, that before he could fire two shots, he and
his friend would have each twelve bullets in his body.  But I have not
time to palaver here.  Who are you, and where are you going?"

"We are Englishmen, travelling to see the country," replied Harold.

The chief looked doubtfully at him, and seemed to waver, then suddenly
making up his mind, he frowned and said sternly--"No; that is a lie.
You are Portuguese scoundrels.  You shall all die.  You have robbed us
of our liberty, our wives, our children, our homes; you have chained,
and tortured, and flogged us!"--he gnashed his teeth at this point, and
his followers grew excited.  "Now we have got free, and you are caught.
We will let you know what it is to be slaves."

As the negro chief stirred up his wrath by thus recounting his wrongs,
and advanced a step, Harold begged Disco, in a low, urgent voice, not to
raise his pistol.  Then looking the savage full in the face, without
showing a trace of anxiety, he said--"You are wrong.  We are indeed
Englishmen, and you know that the English detest slavery, and would, if
they could, put a stop to it altogether."

"Yes, I know that," said the chief.  "We have seen one Englishman here,
and he has made us to know that not all men with white faces are
devils--like the Portuguese and Arabs.  But how am I to know you are
English?"

Again the chief wavered a little, as if half-inclined to believe
Harold's statement.

"Here is proof for you," said Harold, pointing to Chimbolo, who, being
scarcely able to move, had remained all this time beside the fire
leaning on his elbow and listening intently to the conversation.  "See,"
he continued, "that is a slave.  Look at him."

As he said this, Harold stepped quickly forward and removed the blanket,
with which he had covered his lacerated back after dressing it.

A howl of execration burst from the band of negroes, who pointed their
spears and guns at the travellers' breasts, and would have made a speedy
end of the whole party if Antonio had not exclaimed "Speak, Chimbolo,
speak!"

The slave looked up with animation, and told the rebels how his
Portuguese owner had ordered him to be flogged to death, but changed his
mind and doomed him to be drowned,--how that in the nick of time, these
white men had rescued him, and had afterwards treated him with the
greatest kindness.

Chimbolo did not say much, but what he did say was uttered with emphasis
and feeling.  This was enough.  Those who would have been enemies were
suddenly converted into warm friends, and the desperadoes, who would
have torn their former masters, or any of their race, limb from limb, if
they could have got hold of them, left our adventurers undisturbed in
their bivouac, after wishing them a prosperous journey.

It was nevertheless deemed advisable to keep watch during the night.
This was done faithfully and conscientiously as far as it went.  Harold
took the first hour by way of example.  He sat over the fire,
alternately gazing into its embers while he meditated of home, and round
upon the dark forest while he thought of Africa.  True to time, he
called Disco, who, equally true to his sense of duty, turned out at once
with a deep "Ay, ay, sir."  The self-styled first-mate placed his back
against a tree, and, endeavouring to believe it to be a capstan, or
binnacle, or any other object appertaining to the sea, stared at the
ghostly stems of the forest-trees until they began to dance hornpipes
for his special gratification, or glowered at the shadows until they
became instinct with life, and all but induced him to rouse the camp
twenty times in the course of his hour's vigil.  True to time also, like
his predecessor, Disco roused Antonio and immediately turned in.

The vivacious _chef de cuisine_ started up at once, took up his position
at the foot of the tree which Disco had just left, leaned his back
against it, and straightway went to sleep, in which condition he
remained till morning, leaving the camp in unprotected felicity and
blissful ignorance.

Fortunately for all parties, Disco awoke in time to catch him napping,
and resolved to punish him.  He crept stealthily round to the back of
the tree against which the faithless man leaned, and reached gently
round until his mouth was close to Antonio's cheek, then, collecting all
the air that his vast lungs were capable of containing, he poured into
Antonio's ear a cumulative roar that threw the camp and the denizens of
the wilderness far and near into confusion, and almost drove the whole
marrow in Antonio's body out at his heels.  The stricken man sprang up
as if earth had shot him forth, uttered a yell of terror such as seldom
greets the ear, and rushed blindly forward.  Repeating the roar, Disco
plunged after him.  Antonio tumbled over the fire, recovered himself,
dashed on, and would certainly have plunged into the river, if not into
the jaws of a crocodile, had not Jumbo caught him in his arms, in the
midst of a chorus of laughter from the other men.

"How dare 'ee go to sleep on dooty?" demanded Disco, seizing the culprit
by the collar, "eh! we might have bin all murdered by rebels or eaten by
lions, or had our eyes picked out by gorillas, for all that _you_ would
have done to prevent it--eh?" giving him a shake.

"Oh, pardon, forgif.  Nevair doot more again," exclaimed the breathless
and trembling Antonio.

"You'd _better_ not!" said Disco, giving him another shake and releasing
him.

Having done so, he turned on his heel and bestowed a quiet look, in
passing, on Jumbo, which of course threw that unfortunate man into
convulsions.

After this little incident a hasty breakfast was taken, the canoes were
launched, and the voyage was continued.

It is not necessary to trace the course of our explorers day by day as
they ascended the Zambesi, or to recount all the adventures or
misadventures that befell them on their journey into the interior.  It
is sufficient for the continuity of our tale to say that many days after
leaving the coast they turned into the Shire river, which flows into the
Zambesi about 150 miles from the coast.

There are many fountain-heads of slavery in Africa.  The region of the
interior, which gives birth to the head-waters of the Shire river, is
one of the chief of these.  Here lies the great lake Nyassa, which was
discovered and partly explored by Dr Livingstone, and hence flows a
perennial stream of traffic to Kilwa, on the coast--which traffic, at
the present time, consists almost exclusively of the two kinds of ivory,
white and black, the former (elephants' tusks) being carried by the
latter (slaves), by which means the slave-trade is rendered more
profitable.

Towards this populous and fertile region, then, our adventurers directed
their course, when they turned out of the great river Zambesi and began
to ascend the Shire.

And here, at the very outset of this part of the journey, they met with
a Portuguese settler, who did more to open their eyes to the blighting
and withering influence of slavery on the land and on its people than
anything they had yet seen.

Towards the afternoon of the first day on the Shire, they landed near
the encampment of the settler referred to, who turned out to be a
gentleman of a Portuguese town on the Zambesi.

Harold found, to his delight, that he could speak English fluently, and
was, moreover, an exceedingly agreeable and well-informed man.  He was
out at the time on a hunting expedition, attended by a party of slaves.

Harold spent the evening in very pleasant intercourse with Senhor Gamba,
and at a later hour than usual returned to his camp, where he
entertained Disco with an account of his new acquaintance.

While thus engaged, he was startled by the most appalling shrieks, which
proceeded from the neighbouring encampment.  Under the impression that
something was wrong, both he and Disco leaped up and ran towards it.
There, to his amazement and horror, Harold beheld his agreeable friend
Senhor Gamba thrashing a young slave unmercifully with a whip of the
most formidable character.  Only a few lashes from it had been given
when Harold ran up, but these were so powerful that the unhappy victim
dropped down in a state of insensibility just as he reached the spot.

The Portuguese "gentleman" turned away from the prostrate slave with a
scowl, but betrayed a slight touch of confusion on meeting the gaze of
Harold Seadrift.

"Senhor!" exclaimed the latter sternly, with mingled remonstrance and
rebuke in his tone, "how _can_ you be so cruel?  What has the boy done
to merit such inhuman chastisement?"

"He has neglected my orders," answered the Portuguese, as though he
resented the tone in which Harold spoke.

"But surely, surely," said Harold, "the punishment is far beyond the
offence.  I can scarcely believe the evidence of my own eyes and ears
when they tell me that _you_ have been guilty of this."

"Come," returned Senhor Gamba, softening into a smile, "you English
cannot understand our case in this land.  Because you do not keep
slaves, you take the philanthropic, the religious view of the question.
We who do keep slaves have a totally different experience.  You cannot
understand, you cannot sympathise with us."

"No, truly, we can _not_ understand you," said Harold earnestly, "and
God forbid that we should ever sympathise with you in this matter.  We
detest the gross injustice of slavery, and we abhor the fearful
cruelties connected with it."

"That is because, as I said, you are not in our position," rejoined the
Senhor, with a shrug of his shoulders.  "It is easy for you to take the
philanthropic view, which, however, I admit to be the best, for in the
eyes of God all men are equal, and though the African be a degraded man,
I know enough of him to be sure that he can be raised by kindness and
religion into a position not very inferior to our own; but we who keep
slaves cannot help ourselves we _must_ act as we do."

"Why so?--is cruelty a necessity?" asked Harold.

"Yes, it is," replied the Senhor decidedly.

"Then the abolition of slavery is a needcessity too," growled Disco, who
had hitherto looked on and listened in silent wonder, debating with
himself as to the propriety of giving Senhor Gamba, then and there, a
sound thrashing with his own whip!

"You see," continued the Portuguese, paying no attention to Disco's
growl,--"You see, in order to live out here I must have slaves, and in
order to keep slaves I must have a whip.  My whip is no worse than any
other whip that I know of.  I don't justify it as right, I simply defend
it as necessary.  _Wherever slavery exists, discipline must of necessity
be brutal_.  If you keep slaves, and mean that they shall give you the
labour of their bodies, and of their minds also, in so far as you permit
them to have minds, you must degrade them by the whip and by all other
means at your disposal until, like dogs, they become the unhesitating
servants of your will, no matter what that will may be, and live for
your pleasure only.  It will never pay me to adopt your philanthropic,
your religious views.  I am here.  I _must_ be here.  What am I to do?
Starve?  No, not if I can help it.  I do as others do--keep slaves and
act as the master of slaves.  I must use the whip.  Perhaps you won't
believe me," continued Senhor Gamba, with a sad smile, "but I speak
truth when I say that I was tender-hearted when I first came to this
country, for I had been well nurtured in Lisbon; but that soon passed
away--it could not last.  I was the laughing-stock of my companions.
Just to explain my position, I will tell you a circumstance which
happened soon after I came here.  The Governor invited me to a party of
pleasure.  The party consisted of himself, his daughters, some officers,
and others.  We were to go in boats to a favourite island resort,
several miles off.  I took one of my slaves with me, a lad that I kept
about my person.  As we were going along, this lad fell into the river.
He could not swim, and the tide was carrying him fast away to death.
Dressed as I was, in full uniform, I plunged in after him and saved him.
The wish alone to save the boy's life prompted me to risk my own.  And
for this I became the jest of the party; even the ladies tittered at my
folly.  Next evening the Governor had a large dinner-party.  I was
there.  Having caught cold, I coughed slightly; this drew attention to
me.  Remarks were made, and the Governor alluded in scoffing terms to my
exploit, which created much mirth.  `Were you drunk?' said one.  `Had
you lost your senses, to risk your life for a brute of a negro?' said
another.  `Rather than spoil my uniform, I would have knocked him on the
head with a pole,' said a third; and it was a long time before what they
termed my folly was forgotten or forgiven.  You think I am worse than
others.  I am not; but I do not condescend to their hypocrisy.  What I
am now, I have been made by this country and its associates."  [These
words are not fictitious.  The remarks of Senhor Gamba were actually
spoken by a Portuguese slave-owner, and will be found in _The Story of
the Universities' Mission to Central Africa_, pages 64-5-6.]

Senhor Gamba said this with the air of one who thinks that he has
nearly, if not quite, justified himself.  "I am no worse than others,"
is an excuse for evil conduct, not altogether unknown in more highly
favoured lands, and is often followed by the illogical conclusion,
"therefore I am not to blame," but although Harold felt pity for his
agreeable chance acquaintance, he could not admit that this explanation
excused him, nor could he get over the shock which his feelings had
sustained; it was, therefore, with comparatively little regret that he
bade him adieu on the following morning, and pursued his onward way.

Everywhere along the Shire they met with a more or less hospitable
reception from the natives, who regarded them with great favour, in
consequence of their belonging to the same nation which had sent forth
men to explore their country, defend them from the slave-dealer, and
teach them about the true God.  These men, of whom mention is made in
another chapter, had, some time before this, been sent by the Church of
England to the Manganja highlands, at the suggestion of Dr Livingstone,
and laid, we believe, the foundation-stone of Christian civilisation in
the interior of Africa, though God saw fit to arrest them in the raising
of the superstructure.

Among other pieces of useful knowledge conveyed by them to the negroes
of the Shire, was the fact that Englishmen are not cannibals, and that
they have no special longings after black man steaks!

It may perchance surprise some readers to learn that black men ever
entertain such a preposterous notion.  Nevertheless, it is literally
true.  The slavers--Arabs and Portuguese--find it in their interest to
instil this falsehood into the minds of the ignorant tribes of the
interior, from whom the slaves are gathered, in order that their
captives may entertain a salutary horror of Englishmen, so that if their
dhows should be chased by our cruisers while creeping northward along
the coast and run the risk of being taken, the slaves may willingly aid
their captors in trying to escape.  That the lesson has been well learnt
and thoroughly believed is proved by the fact that when a dhow is
obliged to run ashore to avoid capture, the slaves invariably take to
the woods on the wings of terror, preferring, no doubt to be re-enslaved
rather than to be roasted and eaten by white fiends.  Indeed, so
thoroughly has this been engrained into the native mind, that mothers
frequently endeavour to overawe their refractory offspring by
threatening to hand them over to the dreadful white monster who will eat
them up if they don't behave!



CHAPTER EIGHT.

RELATES ADVENTURES IN THE SHIRE VALLEY, AND TOUCHES ON ONE OR TWO PHASES
OF SLAVERY.

Everything depends upon taste, as the monkey remarked when it took to
nibbling the end of its own tail!  If you like a thing, you take one
view of it; if you don't like it, you take another view.  Either view,
if detailed, would be totally irreconcilable with the other.

The lower part of the river Shire, into which our travellers had now
entered, is a vast swamp.  There are at least two opinions in regard to
that region.  To do justice to those with whom we don't sympathise, we
give our opponent's view first.  Our opponent, observe, is an honest and
competent man; he speaks truly; he only looks at it in another light
from Harold Seadrift and Disco Lillihammer.

He says of the river Shire, "It drains a low and exceedingly fertile
valley of from fifteen to twenty miles in breadth.  Ranges of wooded
hills bound this valley on both sides.  After the first twenty miles you
come to Mount Morambala, which rises with steep sides to 4000 feet in
height.  It is wooded to the top, and very beautiful.  A small village
peeps out about half-way up the mountain.  It has a pure, bracing
atmosphere, and is perched above mosquito range.  The people on the
summit have a very different climate and vegetation from those on the
plains, and they live amidst luxuriant vegetation.  There are many
species of ferns, some so large as to deserve the name of trees.  There
are also lemon and orange trees growing wild, and birds and animals of
all kinds."  Thus far we agree with our opponent but listen to him as he
goes on:--

"The view from Morambala is extensive, but cheerless past description.
Swamp, swamp-reeking, festering, rotting, malaria-pregnant swamp, where
poisonous vapours for several months in the year are ever bulging up and
out into the air,--lies before you as far as the eye can reach, and
farther.  If you enter the river at the worst seasons of the year, the
chances are you will take the worst type of fever.  If, on the other
hand, you enter it during the best season, when the swamps are fairly
dried up, you have everything in your favour."

Now, our opponent gives a true statement of facts undoubtedly, but his
view of them is not cheering.

Contrast them with the view of Disco Lillihammer.  That sagacious seaman
had entered the Shire neither in the "best" nor the "worst" of the
season.  He had chanced upon it somewhere between the two.

"Git up your steam an' go 'longside," he said to Jumbo one afternoon, as
the two canoes were proceeding quietly among magnificent giant-reeds,
sedges, and bulrushes, which towered high above them--in some places
overhung them.

"I say, Mister Harold, ain't it splendid?"

"Magnificent!" replied Harold with a look of quiet enthusiasm.

"I _does_ enjoy a swamp," continued the seaman, allowing a thin cloud to
trickle from his lips.

"So do I, Disco."

"There's such a many outs and ins an' roundabouts in it.  And such
powerful reflections o' them reeds in the quiet water.  W'y, sir, I do
declare w'en I looks through 'em in a dreamy sort of way for a long time
I get to fancy they're palm-trees, an' that we're sailin' through a
forest without no end to it; an' when I looks over the side an' sees
every reed standin' on its other self, so to speak, an' follers the
under one down till my eyes git lost in the blue sky an' clouds _below_
us, I do sometimes feel as if we'd got into the middle of fairy-land,--
was fairly afloat on the air, an' off on a voyage through the univarse!
But it's them reflections as I like most.  Every leaf, an' stalk, an'
flag is just as good an' real _in_ the water as out of it.  An' just
look at that there frog, sir, that one on the big leaf which has swelled
hisself up as if he wanted to bust, with his head looking up hopefully
to the--ah! he's down with a plop like lead, but he wos sittin' on his
own image which wos as clear as his own self.  Then there's so much
variety, sir--that's where it is.  You never know wot you're comin' to
in them swamps.  It may be a openin' like a pretty lake, with islands of
reeds everywhere; or it may be a narrow bit like a canal, or a river; or
a bit so close that you go scrapin' the gun'les on both sides.  An' the
life, too, is most amazin'.  Never saw nothin' like it nowhere.  All
kinds, big an' little, plain an' pritty, queer an' 'orrible, swarms here
to sitch an extent that I've got it into my head that this Shire valley
must be the great original nursery of animated nature."

"It looks like it, Disco."

The last idea appeared to furnish food for reflection, as the two
friends here relapsed into silence.

Although Disco's description was quaint, it could scarcely be styled
exaggerated, for the swamp was absolutely alive with animal life.  The
principal occupant of these marshes is the elephant, and hundreds of
these monster animals may be seen in one herd, feeding like cattle in a
meadow.  Owing to the almost impenetrable nature of the reedy jungle,
however, it is impossible to follow them, and anxious though Disco was
to kill one, he failed to obtain a single shot.  Buffaloes and other
large game were also numerous in this region, and in the water
crocodiles and hippopotami sported about everywhere, while aquatic birds
of every shape and size rendered the air vocal with their cries.
Sometimes these feathered denizens of the swamp arose, when startled, in
a dense cloud so vast that the mighty rush of their wings was almost
thunderous in character.

The crocodiles were not only numerous but dangerous because of their
audacity.  They used to watch at the places where native women were in
the habit of going down to the river for water, and not unfrequently
succeeded in seizing a victim.  This, however, only happened at those
periods when the Shire was in flood, when fish were driven from their
wonted haunts, and the crocodiles were reduced to a state of starvation
and consequent ferocity.

One evening, while our travellers were proceeding slowly up stream, they
observed the corpse of a negro boy floating past the canoe; just then a
monstrous crocodile rushed at it with the speed of a greyhound, caught
it and shook it as a terrier does a rat.  Others dashed at the prey,
each with his powerful tail causing the water to churn and froth as he
tore off a piece.  In a few seconds all was gone.  [Livingstone's
_Zambesi and its Tributaries_, page 452.] That same evening Zombo had a
narrow escape.  After dusk he ran down to the river to drink.  He
chanced to go to a spot where a crocodile was watching.  It lay settled
down in the mud with its head on a level with the water, so that in the
feeble light it could not be seen.  While Zombo was busy laving the
water into his mouth it suddenly rushed at him and caught him by the
hand.  The limb of a bush was fortunately within reach, and he laid hold
of it.  There was a brief struggle.  The crocodile tugged hard, but the
man tugged harder; at the same time he uttered a yell which brought
Jumbo to his side with an oar, a blow from which drove the hideous
reptile away.  Poor Zombo was too glad to have escaped with his life to
care much about the torn hand, which rendered him _hors de combat_ for
some time after that.

Although Disco failed to get a shot at an elephant, his hopeful spirit
was gratified by the catching of a baby elephant alive.  It happened
thus:--

One morning, not very long after Zombo's tussle with the crocodile,
Disco's canoe, which chanced to be in advance, suddenly ran almost into
the midst of a herd of elephants which were busy feeding on palm-nuts,
of which they are very fond.  Instantly the whole troop scattered and
fled.  Disco, taken completely by surprise, omitted his wonted "Hallo!"
as he made an awkward plunge at his rifle, but before he could bring it
to bear, the animals were over the bank of the river and lost in the
dense jungle.  But a fine little elephant, at that period of life which,
in human beings, might be styled the toddling age, was observed to
stumble while attempting to follow its mother up the bank.  It fell and
rolled backwards.

"Give way for your lives!" roared Disco.

The boat shot its bow on the bank, and the seaman flew rather than
leaped upon the baby elephant!

The instant it was laid hold of it began to scream with incessant and
piercing energy after the fashion of a pig.

"Queek! come in canoe!  Modder come back for 'im," cried Jumbo in some
anxiety.

Disco at once appreciated the danger of the enraged mother returning to
the rescue, but, resolved not to resign his advantage, he seized the
vicious little creature by the proboscis and dragged it by main force to
the canoe, into which he tumbled, hauled the proboscis inboard, as
though it had been the bite of a cable, and held on.

"Shove off! shove off! and give way, lads!  Look alive!"

The order was promptly obeyed, and in a few minutes the baby was dragged
into the boat and secured.

This prize, however, was found to be more of a nuisance than an
amusement and it was soon decided that it must be disposed of.
Accordingly, that very night, much to the regret of the men who wanted
to make a meal of it, Disco led his baby squealing into the jungle and
set it free with a hearty slap on the flank, and an earnest
recommendation to make all sail after its venerable mother, which it did
forthwith, cocking its ears and tail, and shrieking as it went.

Two days after this event they made a brief halt at a poor village where
they were hospitably received by the chief, who was much gratified by
the liberal quantity of calico with which the travellers paid for their
entertainment.  Here they met with a Portuguese half-caste who was
reputed one of the greatest monsters of cruelty in that part of the
country.  He was, however, not much more villainous in aspect than many
other half-castes whom they saw.  He was on his way to the coast in a
canoe manned by slaves.  If Harold and Disco had known that this was his
last journey to the coast they would have regarded him with greater
interest.  As it was, having learned his history from the chief through
their interpreter, they turned from him with loathing.

As this half-caste's career illustrates the depths to which humanity may
fall in the hot-bed of slavery, as well as, to some extent, the state of
things existing under Portuguese rule on the east coast of Africa, we
give the particulars briefly.

Instead of the whip, this man used the gun, which he facetiously styled
his "minister of justice," and, in mere wantonness, he was known to have
committed murder again and again, yet no steps were taken by the
authorities to restrain, much less to punish him.  Men heard of his
murders, but they shrugged their shoulders and did nothing.  It was only
a wild beast of a negro that was killed, they said, and what was that!
They seemed to think less of it than if he had shot a hippopotamus.  One
of his murders was painfully notorious, even to its minutest
particulars.  Over the female slaves employed in a house and adjacent
lands there is usually placed a head-woman, a slave also, chosen for
such an office for her blind fidelity to her master.  This man had one
such woman, one who had ever been faithful to him and his interests, who
had never provoked him by disobedience or ill-conduct, and against whom,
therefore, he could have no cause of complaint.  One day when half drunk
he was lying on a couch in his house; his forewoman entered and made
herself busy with some domestic work.  As her master lay watching her,
his savage disposition found vent in a characteristic joke: "Woman,"
said he, "I think I will shoot you."  The woman turned round and said,
"Master, I am your slave; you can do what you will with me.  You can
kill me if you like; I can do nothing.  But don't kill me, master, for
if you do, who is there to look after your other women? they will all
run away from you."

She did not mean to irritate her master, but instantly the man's brutal
egotism was aroused.  The savage jest became a fearful reality, and he
shouted with rage:--

"Say you that! say you that! fetch me my gun.  I will see if my women
will run away after I have killed you."

Trained to implicit obedience, the poor woman did as she was bid.  She
brought the gun and handed him powder and ball.  At his command she
knelt down before him, and the wretch fired at her breast.  In his
drunken rage he missed his mark--the ball went through her shoulder.
She besought him to spare her.  Deaf to her entreaties, he ordered her
to fetch more powder and ball.  Though wounded and in agony, she obeyed
him.  Again the gun was loaded, again levelled and fired, and the woman
fell dead at his feet.  [The above narrative is quoted almost _verbatim_
from _The Story of the Universities' Mission to Central Africa_, pages
78 and 79, the author of which vouches for its accuracy.]

The facts of this case were known far and wide.  The Portuguese Governor
was acquainted with them, as well as the ministers of justice, but no
one put forth a hand to punish the monster, or to protect his slaves.

But vengeance overtook him at last.  On his way down the Zambesi he shot
one of his men.  The others, roused to irresistible fury, sprang upon
him and strangled him.

_Then_, indeed, the Governor and Magistrates were roused to administer
"justice!"  They had allowed this fiend to murder slaves at his will,
but no sooner had the slaves turned on and killed their master than
ceaseless energy and resolution were displayed in punishing those who
slew him.  Soldiers were sent out in all directions; some of the
canoe-men were shot down like wild beasts, the rest were recaptured and
publicly whipped to death!

Reader, this is "domestic slavery."  This is what Portugal and Zanzibar
claim the right to practise.  This is what Great Britain has for many
years declined to interfere with.  This is the curse with which Africa
is blighted at the present day in some of her fairest lands, and this is
what Portugal has decreed shall not terminate in what she calls her
African dominions for some years to come.  In other words, it has been
coolly decreed by that weakest of all the European nations, that
slavery, murder, injustice, and every other conceivable and
unmentionable vice and villainy shall still, for some considerable time,
continue to be practised on the men, women, and children of Africa!

Higher up the Shire river, the travellers saw symptoms of recent
distress among the people, which caused them much concern.  Chimbolo, in
particular, was rendered very anxious by the account given of the famine
which prevailed still farther up the river, and the numerous deaths that
had taken place in consequence.

The cause of the distress was a common one, and easily explained.
Slave-dealers had induced the Ajawa, a warlike tribe, to declare war
against the people of the Manganja highlands.  The Ajawa had done this
before, and were but too ready to do it again.  They invaded the land,
captured many of the young people, and slew the aged.  Those who escaped
to the jungle found on their return that their crops were destroyed.
Little seed remained in their possession, and before that was planted
and grown, famine began to reduce the ranks, already thinned by war.

Indications of this sad state of things became more numerous as the
travellers advanced.  Few natives appeared to greet them on the banks of
the river as they went along, and these few resembled living skeletons.
In many places they found dead bodies lying on the ground in various
stages of decomposition, and everywhere they beheld an aspect of settled
unutterable despair on the faces of the scattered remnant of the
bereaved and starving people.

It was impossible, in the circumstances, for Harold Seadrift to give
these wretched people more than very slight relief.  He gave them as
much of his stock of provisions as he could spare, and was glad when the
necessity of continuing the journey on foot relieved him from such
mournful scenes by taking him away from the river's bank.

Hiring a party of the strongest men that he could find among them, he at
length left his canoes, made up his goods, food, and camp-equipage into
bundles of a shape and size suitable to being carried on the heads of
men, and started on foot for the Manganja highlands.

"Seems to me, sir," observed Disco, as they plodded along together on
the first morning of the land journey--"seems to me, sir, that Chimbolo
don't stand much chance of findin' his wife alive."

"Poor fellow," replied Harold, glancing back at the object of their
remarks, "I fear not."

Chimbolo had by that time recovered much of his natural vigour, and
although not yet able to carry a man's load, was nevertheless quite
capable of following the party.  He walked in silence, with his eyes on
the ground, a few paces behind Antonio, who was a step or two in rear of
his leader, and who, in virtue of his position as "bo's'n" to the party,
was privileged to walk hampered by no greater burden than his gun.

"We must keep up his sperrits, tho', poor chap," said Disco, in the
hoarse whisper with which he was wont to convey secret remarks, and
which was much more fitted to attract attention than his ordinary voice.
"It 'ud never do to let his sperrits down; 'cause w'y? he's weak, an'
if he know'd that his wife was dead, or took off as a slave, he'd never
be able to go along with us, and we couldn't leave him to starve here,
you know."

"Certainly not, Disco," returned Harold.  "Besides, his wife _may_ be
alive, for all we know to the contrary.--How far did he say the village
was from where we landed, Antonio?"

"'Bout two, t'ree days," answered the bo's'n.

That night the party encamped beside the ruins of a small hamlet where
charred sticks and fragments of an African household's goods and
chattels lay scattered on the ground.

Chimbolo sat down here on the ground, and, resting his chin on his
knees, gazed in silence at the ruin around him.

"Come, cheer up, old fellow," cried Disco, with rather an awkward effort
at heartiness, as he slapped the negro gently on the shoulder; "tell
him, Antonio, not to let his heart go down.  Didn't he say that
what-dee-call-the-place--his village--was a strong place, and could be
easily held by a few brave men?"

"True," replied Chimbolo, through the interpreter, "but the Manganja men
are not very brave."

"Well, well, never mind," rejoined the sympathetic tar, repeating his
pat on the back, "there's no sayin'.  P'raps they got courage w'en it
came to the scratch.  P'raps it never came to the scratch at all up
there.  Mayhap you'll find 'em all right after all.  Come, never say die
s'long as there's a shot in the locker.  That's a good motto for 'ee,
Chimbolo, and ought to keep up your heart even tho' ye _are_ a nigger,
'cause it wos inwented by the great Nelson, and shouted by him, or his
bo's'n, just before he got knocked over at the glorious battle of
Traf

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