His eyes were fixed on his guard; he was motionless, and under the
influence of a leaden sleep. Dick Sand, bringing his lips to the
door-sill, thought he might risk murmuring Hercules's name. A moan,
like a low and plaintive bark, replied to him.
"It is not Hercules," said Dick to himself, "but it is Dingo. He has
scented me as far as this barrack. Should he bring me another word
from Hercules? But if Dingo is not dead, Negoro has lied, and
perhaps--"
At that moment a paw passed under the door. Dick Sand seized it, and
recognized Dingo's paw. But, if it had a letter, that letter could
only be attached to its neck. What to do? Was it possible to make that
hole large enough for Dingo to put in its head? At all events, he must
try it.
But hardly had Dick Sand begun to dig the soil with his nails, than
barks that were not Dingo's sounded over the place. The faithful
animal had just been scented by the native dogs, and doubtless could
do nothing more than take to flight. Some detonations burst forth. The
overseer half awoke. Dick Sand, no longer able to think of escaping,
because the alarm was given, must then roll himself up again in his
corner, and, after a lovely hope, he saw appear that day which would
be without a to-morrow for him.
During all that day the grave-diggers' labors were pushed on with
briskness. A large number of natives took part, under the direction
of Queen Moini's first minister. All must be ready at the hour named,
under penalty of mutilation, for the new sovereign promised to follow
the defunct king's ways, point by point.
The waters of the brook having been turned aside, it was in the dry
bed that the vast ditch was dug, to a depth of ten feet, over an
extent of fifty feet long by ten wide.
Toward the end of the day they began to carpet it, at the bottom and
along the walls, with living women, chosen among Moini Loungga's
slaves. Generally those unfortunates are buried alive. But, on account
of this strange and perhaps miraculous death of Moini Loungga, it
had been decided that they should be drowned near the body of their
master.
One cannot imagine what those horrible hecatombs are, when a powerful
chief's memory must be fitly honored among these tribes of Central
Africa. Cameron says that more than a hundred victims were thus
sacrificed at the funeral ceremonies of the King of Kassongo's father.
It is also the custom for the defunct king to be dressed in his most
costly clothes before being laid in his tomb. But this time, as there
was nothing left of the royal person except a few burnt bones, it was
necessary to proceed in another manner. A willow manikin was made,
representing Moini Loungga sufficiently well, perhaps advantageously,
and in it they shut up the remains the combustion had spared. The
manikin was then clothed with the royal vestments--we know that those
clothes are not worth much--and they did not forget to ornament it
with Cousin Benedict's famous spectacles. There was something terribly
comic in this masquerade.
The ceremony would take place with torches and with great pomp. The
whole population of Kazounde, native or not, must assist at it.
When the evening had come, a long cortège descended the principal
street, from the -tchitoka- as far as the burial place. Cries,
funeral dances, magicians' incantations, noises from instruments and
detonations from old muskets from the arsenals--nothing was lacking in
it.
Jose-Antonio Alvez, Coimbra, Negoro, the Arab traders and their
overseers had increased the ranks of Kazounde's people. No one had yet
left the great -lakoni-. Queen Moini would not permit it, and it would
not be prudent to disobey the orders of one who was trying the trade
of sovereign.
The body of the king, laid in a palanquin, was carried in the last
ranks of the cortège. It was surrounded by his wives of the second
order, some of whom were going to accompany him beyond this life.
Queen Moini, in great state, marched behind what might be called the
catafalque. It was positively night when all the people arrived on
the banks of the brook; but the resin torches, shaken by the porters,
threw great bursts of light over the crowd.
The ditch was seen distinctly. It was carpeted with black, living
bodies, for they moved under the chains that bound them to the ground.
Fifty slaves were waiting there till the torrent should close over
them. The majority were young natives, some resigned and mute, others
giving a few groans. The wives all dressed as for a -fête-, and who
must perish, had been chosen by the queen.
One of these victims, she who bore the title of second wife, was bent
on her hands and knees, to serve as a royal footstool, as she had done
in the king's lifetime. The third wife came to hold up the manikin,
while the fourth lay at its feet, in the guise of a cushion.
Before the manikin, at the end of the ditch, a post, painted red, rose
from the earth. To this post was fastened a white man, who was going
to be counted also among the victims of these bloody obsequies.
That white man was Dick Sand. His body, half naked, bore the marks of
the tortures he had already suffered by Negoro's orders. Tied to this
post, he waited for death like a man who has no hope except in another
life.
However, the moment had not yet arrived when the barricade would be
broken.
On a signal from the queen, the fourth wife, she who was placed at the
king's feet, was beheaded by Kazounde's executioner, and her blood
flowed into the ditch. It was the beginning of a frightful scene of
butchery. Fifty slaves fell under the executioner's knife. The bed of
the river ran waves of blood.
During half an hour the victims' cries mingled with the assistants'
vociferations, and one would seek in vain in that crowd for a
sentiment of repugnance or of pity.
At last Queen Moini made a gesture, and the barricade that held back
the upper waters gradually opened. By a refinement of cruelty, the
current was allowed to filter down the river, instead of being
precipitated by an instantaneous bursting open of the dam. Slow death
instead of quick death!
The water first drowned the carpet of slaves which covered the bottom
of the ditch. Horrible leaps were made by those living creatures,
who struggled against asphyxia. They saw Dick Sand, submerged to the
knees, make a last effort to break his bonds. But the water mounted.
The last heads disappeared under the torrent, that took its course
again, and nothing indicated that at the bottom of this river was
dug a tomb, where one hundred victims had just perished in honor of
Kazounde's king.
The pen would refuse to paint such pictures, if regard for the truth
did not impose the duty of describing them in their abominable
reality. Man is still there, in those sad countries. To be ignorant of
it is not allowable.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XIII.
THE INTERIOR OF A FACTORY.
Harris and Negoro had told a lie in saying that Mrs. Weldon and
little Jack were dead. She, her son, and Cousin Benedict were then in
Kazounde.
After the assault on the ant-hill, they had been taken away beyond the
camp on the Coanza by Harris and Negoro, accompanied by a dozen native
soldiers.
A palanquin, the "kitanda" of the country, received Mrs. Weldon and
little Jack. Why such care on the part of such a man as Negoro? Mrs.
Weldon was afraid to explain it to herself.
The journey from the Counza to Kazounde was made rapidly and without
fatigue. Cousin Benedict, on whom trouble seemed to have no effect,
walked with a firm step. As he was allowed to search to the right and
to the left, he did not think of complaining. The little troop, then,
arrived at Kazounde eight days before Ibn Hamis's caravan. Mrs.
Weldon was shut up, with her child and Cousin Benedict, in Alvez's
establishment.
Little Jack was much better. On leaving the marshy country, where he
had taken the fever, he gradually became better, and now he was
doing well. No doubt neither he nor his mother could have borne the
hardships of the caravan; but owing to the manner in which they had
made this journey, during which they had been given a certain amount
of care, they were in a satisfactory condition, physically at least.
As to her companions, Mrs. Weldon had heard nothing of them. After
having seen Hercules flee into the forest, she did not know what had
become of him. As to Dick Sand, as Harris and Negoro were no longer
there to torture him, she hoped that his being a white man would
perhaps spare him some bad treatment. As to Nan, Tom, Bat, Austin, and
Acteon, they were blacks, and it was too certain that they would be
treated as such. Poor people! who should never have trodden that land
of Africa, and whom treachery had just cast there.
When Ibn Hamis's caravan had arrived at Kazounde, Mrs. Weldon, having
no communication with the outer world, could not know of the fact:
neither did the noises from the -lakoni- tell her anything. She did
not know that Tom and his friends had been sold to a trader from
Oujiji, and that they would soon set out. She neither knew of Harris's
punishment, nor of King Moini Loungga's death, nor of the royal
funeral ceremonies, that had added Dick Sand to so many other victims.
So the unfortunate woman found herself alone at Kazounde, at the
trader's mercy, in Negoro's power, and she could not even think of
dying in order to escape him, because her child was with her.
Mrs. Weldon was absolutely ignorant of the fate that awaited her.
Harris and Negoro had not addressed a word to her during the whole
journey from the Coanza to Kazounde. Since her arrival, she had not
seen either of them again, and she could not leave the enclosure
around the rich trader's private establishment. Is it necessary to
say now that Mrs. Weldon had found no help in her large child, Cousin
Benedict? That is understood.
When the worthy savant learned that he was not on the American
continent, as he believed, he was not at all anxious to know how that
could have happened. No! His first movement was a gesture of anger.
The insects that he imagined he had been the first to discover in
America, those -tsetses- and others, were only mere African hexapodes,
found by many naturalists before him, in their native places.
Farewell, then, to the glory of attaching his name to those
discoveries! In fact, as he was in Africa, what could there be
astonishing in the circumstance that Cousin Benedict had collected
African insects.
But the first anger over, Cousin Benedict said to himself that the
"Land of the Pharaohs"--so he still called it--possessed incomparable
entomological riches, and that so far as not being in the "Land of the
Incas" was concerned, he would not lose by the change.
"Ah!" he repeated, to himself, and even repeated to Mrs. Weldon, who
hardly listened to him, "this is the country of the -manticores-,
those coleopteres with long hairy feet, with welded and sharp
wing-shells, with enormous mandibles, of which the most remarkable is
the tuberculous -manticore-. It is the country of the -calosomes- with
golden ends; of the Goliaths of Guinea and of the Gabon, whose feet
are furnished with thorns; of the sacred Egyptian -ateuchus-, that
the Egyptians of Upper Egypt venerated as gods. It is here that those
sphinxes with heads of death, now spread over all Europe, belong, and
also those 'Idias Bigote,' whose sting is particularly dreaded by the
Senegalians of the coast. Yes; there are superb things to be found
here, and I shall find them, if these honest people will only let me."
We know who those "honest people" were, of whom Cousin Benedict
did not dream of complaining. Besides, it has been stated, the
entomologist had enjoyed a half liberty in Negoro's and Harris's
company, a liberty of which Dick Sand had absolutely deprived him
during the voyage from the coast to the Coanza. The simple-hearted
savant had been very much touched by that condescension.
Finally, Cousin Benedict would be the happiest of entomologists if he
had not suffered a loss to which he was extremely sensitive. He still
possessed his tin box, but his glasses no longer rested on his nose,
his magnifying glass no longer hung from his neck! Now, a naturalist
without his magnifying glass and his spectacles, no longer exists.
Cousin Benedict, however, was destined never to see those two optical
attendants again, because they had been buried with the royal manikin.
So, when he found some insect, he was reduced to thrusting it into his
eyes to distinguish its most prominent peculiarities. Ah! it was a
great loss to Cousin Benedict, and he would have paid a high price
for a pair of spectacles, but that article was not current on the
-lakonis- of Kazounde. At all events, Cousin Benedict could go and
come in Jose-Antonio Alvez's establishment. They knew he was incapable
of seeking to flee. Besides, a high palisade separated the factory
from the other quarters of the city, and it would not be easy to get
over it.
But, if it was well enclosed, this enclosure did not measure less than
a mile in circumference. Trees, bushes of a kind peculiar to Africa,
great herbs, a few rivulets, the thatch of the barracks and the huts,
were more than necessary to conceal the continent's rarest insects,
and to make Cousin Benedict's happiness, at least, if not his fortune.
In fact, he discovered some hexapodes, and nearly lost his eyesight in
trying to study them without spectacles. But, at least, he added to
his precious collection, and laid the foundation of a great work on
African entomology. If his lucky star would let him discover a new
insect, to which he would attach his name, he would have nothing more
to desire in this world!
If Alvez's establishment was sufficiently large for Cousin Benedict's
scientific promenades, it seemed immense to little Jack, who could
walk about there without restraint. But the child took little interest
in the pleasures so natural to his age. He rarely quitted his
mother, who did not like to leave him alone, and always dreaded some
misfortune.
Little Jack often spoke of his father, whom he had not seen for so
long. He asked to be taken back to him. He inquired after all, for old
Nan, for his friend Hercules, for Bat, for Austin, for Acteon, and for
Dingo, that appeared, indeed, to have deserted him. He wished to see
his comrade, Dick Sand, again. His young imagination was very much
affected, and only lived in those remembrances. To his questions Mrs.
Weldon could only reply by pressing him to her heart, while covering
him with kisses. All that she could do was not to cry before him.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Weldon had not failed to observe that, if bad
treatment had been spared her during the journey from the Coanza,
nothing in Alvez's establishment indicated that there would be any
change of conduct in regard to her. There were in the factory only
the slaves in the trader's service. All the others, which formed
the object of his trade, had been penned up in the barracks of the
-tchitoka-, then sold to the brokers from the interior.
Now, the storehouses of the establishment were overflowing with stuffs
and ivory. The stuffs were intended to be exchanged in the provinces
of the center, the ivory to be exported from the principal markets of
the continent.
In fact, then, there were few people in the factory. Mrs. Weldon and
Jack occupied a hut apart; Cousin Benedict another. They did not
communicate with the trader's servants. They ate together. The food,
consisting of goat's flesh or mutton, vegetables, tapioca, -sorgho-,
and the fruits of the country, was sufficient.
Halima, a young slave, was especially devoted to Mrs. Weldon's
service. In her way, and as she could, she even evinced for her a kind
of savage, but certainty sincere, affection.
Mrs. Weldon hardly saw Jose-Antonio Alvez, who occupied the principal
house of the factory. She did not see Negoro at all, as he lodged
outside; but his absence was quite inexplicable. This absence
continued to astonish her, and make her feel anxious at the same time.
"What does he want? What is he waiting for?" she asked herself. "Why
has he brought us to Kazounde?"
So had passed the eight days that preceded and followed the arrival
of Ibn Hamis's caravan--that is, the two days before the funeral
ceremonies, and the six days that followed.
In the midst of so many anxieties, Mrs. Weldon could not forget that
her husband must be a prey to the most frightful despair, on not
seeing either his wife or his son return to San Francisco. Mr. Weldon
could not know that his wife had adopted that fatal idea of taking
passage on board the "Pilgrim," and he would believe that she had
embarked on one of the steamers of the Trans-Pacific Company. Now,
these steamers arrived regularly, and neither Mrs. Weldon, nor Jack,
nor Cousin Benedict were on them. Besides, the "Pilgrim" itself was
already overdue at Sun Francisco. As she did not reappear, James W.
Weldon must now rank her in the category of ships supposed to be lost,
because not heard of.
What a terrible blow for him, when news of the departure of the
"Pilgrim" and the embarkation of Mrs. Weldon should reach him from
his correspondents in Auckland! What had he done? Had he refused to
believe that his son and she had perished at sea? But then, where
would he search? Evidently on the isles of the Pacific, perhaps on the
American coast. But never, no never, would the thought occur to him
that she had been thrown on the coast of this fatal Africa!
So thought Mrs. Weldon. But what could she attempt? Flee! How? She
was closely watched. And then to flee was to venture into those thick
forests, in the midst of a thousand dangers, to attempt a journey of
more than two hundred miles to reach the coast. And meanwhile Mrs.
Weldon was decided to do it, if no other means offered themselves for
her to recover her liberty. But, first, she wished to know exactly
what Negoro's designs were.
At last she knew them.
On the 6th of June, three days after the burial of Kazounde's king,
Negoro entered the factory, where he had not yet set foot since his
return. He went right to the hut occupied by his prisoner.
Mrs. Weldon was alone. Cousin Benedict was taking one of his
scientific walks. Little Jack, watched by the slave Halima, was
walking in the enclosure of the establishment.
Negoro pushed open the door of the hut without knocking.
"Mrs. Weldon," said he, "Tom and his companions have been sold for the
markets of Oujiji!"
"May God protect them!" said Mrs. "Weldon, shedding tears.
"Nan died on the way, Dick Sand has perished----"
"Nan dead! and Dick!" cried Mrs. Weldon.
"Yes, it is just for your captain of fifteen to pay for Harris's
murder with his life," continued Negoro. "You are alone in Kazounde,
mistress; alone, in the power of the 'Pilgrim's' old cook--absolutely
alone, do you understand?"
What Negoro said was only too true, even concerning Tom and his
friends. The old black man, his son Bat, Acteon and Austin had
departed the day before with the trader of Oujiji's caravan, without
the consolation of seeing Mrs. Weldon again, without even knowing that
their companion in misery was in Kazounde, in Alvez's establishment.
They had departed for the lake country, a journey figured by hundreds
of miles, that very few accomplish, and from which very few return.
"Well?" murmured Mrs. Weldon, looking at Negoro without answering.
"Mrs. Weldon," returned the Portuguese, in an abrupt voice, "I could
revenge myself on you for the bad treatment I suffered on board the
'Pilgrim.' But Dick Sand's death will satisfy my vengeance. Now,
mistress, I become the merchant again, and behold my projects with
regard to you."
Mrs. Weldon looked at him without saying a word.
"You," continued the Portuguese, "your child, and that imbecile who
runs after the flies, you have a commercial value which I intend to
utilize. So I am going to sell you."
"I am of a free race," replied Mrs. Weldon, in a firm tone.
"You are a slave, if I wish it."
"And who would buy a white woman?"
"A man who will pay for her whatever I shall ask him."
Mrs. Weldon bent her head for a moment, for she knew that anything was
possible in that frightful country.
"You have heard?" continued Negoro.
"Who is this man to whom you will pretend to sell me?" replied Mrs.
Weldon.
"To sell you or to re-sell you. At least, I suppose so!" added the
Portuguese, sneering.
"The name of this man?" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"This man--he is James W. Weldon, your husband."
"My husband!" exclaimed Mrs. Weldon, who could not believe what she
had just heard.
"Himself, Mrs. Weldon--your husband, to whom I do not wish simply to
restore his wife, his child, and his cousin, but to sell them, and, at
a high price."
Mrs. Weldon asked herself if Negoro was not setting a trap for her.
However, she believed he was speaking seriously. To a wretch to whom
money is everything, it seems that we can trust, when business is in
question. Now, this was business.
"And when do you propose to make this business operation?" returned
Mrs. Weldon.
"As soon as possible."
"Where?"
"Just here. Certainly James Weldon will not hesitate to come as far as
Kazounde for his wife and son."
"No, he will not hesitate. But who will tell him?"
"I! I shall go to San Francisco to find James Weldon. I have money
enough for this voyage."
"The money stolen from on board the 'Pilgrim?'"
"Yes, that, and more besides," replied Negoro, insolently. "But, if
I wish to sell you soon, I also wish to sell you at a high price.
I think that James Weldon will not regard a hundred thousand
dollars----"
"He will not regard them, if he can give them," replied Mrs. Weldon,
coldly. "Only my husband, to whom you will say, doubtless, that I am
held a prisoner at Kazounde, in Central Africa----"
"Precisely!"
"My husband will not believe you without proofs, and he will not be so
imprudent as to come to Kazounde on your word alone."
"He will come here," returned Negoro, "if I bring him a letter written
by you, which will tell him your situation, which will describe me as
a faithful servant, escaped from the hands of these savages."
"My hand shall never write that letter!" Mrs. Weldon replied, in a
still colder manner.
"You refuse?" exclaimed Negoro.
"I refuse!"
The thought of the dangers her husband would pass through in coming
as far as Kazounde, the little dependence that could be placed on the
Portuguese's promises, the facility with which the latter could retain
James Weldon, after taking the ransom agreed upon, all these reasons
taken together made Mrs. Weldon refuse Negoro's proposition flatly and
at once. Mrs. Weldon spoke, thinking only of herself, forgetting her
child for the moment.
"You shall write that letter!" continued the Portuguese.
"No!" replied Mrs. Weldon again.
"Ah, take care!" exclaimed Negoro. "You are not alone here! Your child
is, like you, in my power, and I well know how----"
Mrs. Weldon wished to reply that that would be impossible. Her heart
was beating as if it would break; she was voiceless.
"Mrs. Weldon," said Negoro, "you will reflect on the offer I have made
you. In eight days you will have handed me a letter to James Weldon's
address, or you will repent of it."
That said, the Portuguese retired, without giving vent to his anger;
but it was easy to see that nothing would stop him from constraining
Mrs. Weldon to obey him.
CHAPTER XIV.
SOME NEWS OF DR. LIVINGSTONE.
Left alone, Mrs. Weldon at first only fixed her mind on this thought,
that eight days would pass before Negoro would return for a definite
answer. There was time to reflect and decide on a course of action.
There could be no question of the Portuguese's probity except in his
own interest. The "market value" that he attributed to his prisoner
would evidently be a safeguard for her, and protect her for the time,
at least, against any temptation that might put her in danger. Perhaps
she would think of a compromise that would restore her to her husband
without obliging Mr. Weldon to come to Kazounde. On receipt of a
letter from his wife, she well knew that James Weldon would set out.
He would brave the perils of this journey into the most dangerous
countries of Africa. But, once at Kazounde, when Negoro should have
that fortune of a hundred thousand dollars in his hands, what guaranty
would James W. Weldon, his wife, his son and Cousin Benedict have,
that they would be allowed to depart? Could not Queen Moini's caprice
prevent them? Would not this "sale" of Mrs. Weldon and hers be better
accomplished if it took place at the coast, at some point agreed upon,
which would spare Mr. Weldon both the dangers of the journey to the
interior, and the difficulties, not to say the impossibilities, of a
return?
So reflected Mrs. Weldon. That was why she had refused at once to
accede to Negoro's proposition and give him a letter for her husband.
She also thought that, if Negoro had put off his second visit for
eight days, it was because he needed that time to prepare for his
journey. If not, he would return sooner to force her consent.
"Would he really separate me from my child?" murmured she.
At that moment Jack entered the hut, and, by an instinctive movement,
his mother seized him, as if Negoro were there, ready to snatch him
from her.
"You are in great grief, mother?" asked the little boy.
"No, dear Jack," replied Mrs. Weldon; "I was thinking of your papa!
You would be very glad to see him again?"
"Oh! yes, mother! Is he going to come?"
"No! no! He must not come!"
"Then we will go to see him again?"
"Yes, darling Jack!"
"With my friend Dick--and Hercules--and old Tom?"
"Yes! yes!" replied Mrs. Weldon, putting her head down to hide her
tears.
"Has papa written to you?" asked little Jack.
"No, my love."
"Then you are going to write to him, mother?"
"Yes--yes--perhaps!" replied Mrs. Weldon.
And without knowing it, little Jack entered directly into his mother's
thoughts. To avoid answering him further, she covered him with kisses.
It must be stated that another motive of some value was joined to
the different reasons that had urged Mrs. Weldon to resist Negoro's
injunctions. Perhaps Mrs. Weldon had a very unexpected chance of being
restored to liberty without her husband's intervention, and even
against Negoro's will. It was only a faint ray of hope, very vague as
yet, but it was one.
In fact, a few words of conversation, overheard by her several days
before, made her foresee a possible succor near at hand--one might say
a providential succor.
Alvez and a mongrel from Oujiji were talking a few steps from the hut
occupied by Mrs. Weldon. It is not astonishing that the slave-trade
was the subject of conversation between those worthy merchants.
The two -brokers- in human flesh were talking business. They were
discussing the future of their commerce, and were worried about
the efforts the English were making to destroy it--not only on the
exterior, by cruisers, but in the interior, by their missionaries and
their travelers.
Jose-Antonio Alvez found that the explorations of these hardy pioneers
could only injure commercial operations. His interlocutor shared his
views, and thought that all these visitors, civil or religious, should
be received with gun-shots.
This had been done to some extent. But, to the great displeasure of
the traders, if they killed some of these curious ones, others escaped
them. Now, these latter, on returning to their country, recounted
"with exaggerations," Alvez said, the horrors of the slave-trade, and
that injured this commerce immensely--it being too much diminished
already.
The mongrel agreed to that, and deplored it; above all, concerning the
markets of N'yangwe, of Oujiji, of Zanzibar, and of all the great
lake regions. There had come successively Speke, Grant, Livingstone,
Stanley, and others. It was an invasion! Soon all England and all
America would occupy the country!
Alvez sincerely pitied his comrade, and he declared that the provinces
of Western Africa had been, till that time, less badly treated--that
is to say, less visited; but the epidemic of travelers was beginning
to spread. If Kazounde had been spared, it was not so with Cassange,
and with Bihe, where Alvez owned factories. It may be remembered,
also, that Harris had spoken to Negoro of a certain Lieutenant
Cameron, who might, indeed, have the presumption to cross Africa from
one side to the other, and after entering it by Zanzibar, leave it by
Angola.
In fact, the trader had reason to fear, and we know that, some years
after, Cameron to the south and Stanley to the north, were going
to explore these little-known provinces of the west, describe the
permanent monstrosities of the trade, unveil the guilty complicities
of foreign agents, and make the responsibility fall on the right
parties.
Neither Alvez nor the mongrel could know anything yet of this
exploration of Cameron's and of Stanley's; but what they did know,
what they said, what Mrs. Weldon heard, and what was of such great
interest to her--in a word, what had sustained her in her refusal to
subscribe at once to Negoro's demands, was this:
Before long, very probably, Dr. David Livingstone would arrive at
Kazounde.
Now, the arrival of Livingstone with his escort, the influence which
the great traveler enjoyed in Africa, the concourse of Portuguese
authorities from Angola that could not fail to meet him, all that
might bring about the deliverance of Mrs. Weldon and hers, in spite of
Negoro, in spite of Alvez. It was perhaps their restoration to their
country within a short time, and without James W. Weldon risking his
life in a journey, the result of which could only be deplorable.
But was there any probability that Dr. Livingstone would soon visit
that part of the continent? Yes, for in following that missionary
tour, he was going to complete the exploration of Central Africa.
We know the heroic life of this son of the tea merchant, who lived
in Blantyre, a village in the county of Lanark. Born on the 13th of
March, 1813, David Livingstone, the second of six children, became,
by force of study, both a theologian and doctor. After making his
novitiate in the "London Missionary Society," he embarked for the
Cape in 1840, with the intention of joining the missionary Moffat in
Southern Africa.
From the Cape, the future traveler repaired to the country of the
Bechnanas, which he explored for the first time, returned to Kuruman
and married Moffat's daughter, that brave companion who would be
worthy of him. In 1843 he founded a mission in the valley of the
Mabotsa.
Four years later, we find him established at Kolobeng, two hundred
and twenty-five miles to the north of Kuruman, in the country of the
Bechnanas.
Two years after, in 1849, Livingstone left Kolobeng with his wife, his
three children and two friends, Messrs. Oswell and Murray. August 1st,
of the same year, he discovered Lake N'gami, and returned to Kolobeng,
by descending the Zouga.
In this journey Livingstone, stopped by the bad will of the natives,
had not passed beyond the N'gami. A second attempt was not more
fortunate. A third must succeed. Then, taking a northern route, again
with his family and Mr. Oswell, after frightful sufferings (for lack
of food, for lack of water) that almost cost him the lives of his
children, he reached the country of the Makalolos beside the Chobe, a
branch of the Zambezi. The chief, Sebituane, joined him at Linyanti.
At the end of June, 1851, the Zambezi was discovered, and the doctor
returned to the Cape to bring his family to England.
In fact, the intrepid Livingstone wished to be alone while risking his
life in the daring journey he was going to undertake.
On leaving the Cape this time, the question was to cross Africa
obliquely from the south to the west, so as to reach Saint Paul de
Loanda.
On the third of June, 1852, the doctor set out with a few natives.
He arrived at Kuruman and skirted the Desert of Kalahari. The 31st
December he entered Litoubarouba and found the country of the
Bechnanas ravaged by the Boers, old Dutch colonists, who were masters
of the Cape before the English took possession of it.
Livingstone left Litoubarouba on the 15th of January, 1853, penetrated
to the center of the country of the Bamangouatos, and, on May 23d,
he arrived at Linyanti, where the young sovereign of the Makalolos,
Sckeletou, received him with great honor.
There, the doctor held back by the intense fevers, devoted himself to
studying the manners of the country, and, for the first time, he could
ascertain the ravages made by the slave-trade in Africa.
One month after he descended the Chobe, reached the Zambezi, entered
Naniele, visited Katonga and Libonta, arrived at the confluence of
the Zambezi and the Leeba, formed the project of ascending by that
watercourse as far as the Portuguese possessions of the west, and,
after nine weeks' absence, returned to Linyanti to make preparations.
On the 11th of November, 1853, the doctor, accompanied by twenty-seven
Makalolos, left Linyanti, and on the 27th of December he reached
the mouth of the Leeba. This watercourse was ascended as far as the
territory of the Balondas, there where it receives the Makonda, which
comes from the east. It was the first time that a white man penetrated
into this region.
January 14th, Livingstone entered Shinte's residence. He was the
most powerful sovereign of the Balondas. He gave Livingstone a good
reception, and, the 26th of the same month, after crossing the Leeba,
he arrived at King Katema's. There, again, a good reception, and
thence the departure of the little troop that on the 20th of February
encamped on the borders of Lake Dilolo.
On setting out from this point, a difficult country, exigencies of the
natives, attacks from the tribes, revolt of his companions, threats of
death, everything conspired against Livingstone, and a less energetic
man would have abandoned the party. The doctor persevered, and on the
4th of April, he reached the banks of the Coango, a large watercourse
which forms the eastern boundary of the Portuguese possessions, and
flows northward into the Zaire.
Six days after, Livingstone entered Cassange, where the trader Alvez
had seen him passing through, and on the 31st of May he arrived at
Saint Paul de Loanda. For the first time, and after a journey of two
years, Africa had just been crossed obliquely from the south to the
west.
David Livingstone left Loanda, September 24th of the same year. He
skirted the right bank of that Coanza that had been so fatal to Dick
Sand and his party, arrived at the confluence of the Lombe, crossing
numerous caravans of slaves, passed by Cassange again, left it on
the 20th of February, crossed the Coango, and reached the Zambezi at
Kawawa. On the 8th of June he discovered Lake Dilolo again, saw Shinte
again, descended the Zambezi, and reentered Linyanti, which he left on
the 3d of November, 1855.
This second part of the journey, which would lead the doctor toward
the eastern coast, would enable him to finish completely this crossing
of Africa from the west to the east.
After having visited the famous Victoria Falls, the "thundering
foam," David Livingstone abandoned the Zambezi to take a northeastern
direction. The passage across the territory of the Batokas (natives
who were besotted by the inhalation of hemp), the visit to Semalembone
(the powerful chief of the region), the crossing of the Kafone, the
finding of the Zambezi again, the visit to King Mbourouma, the sight
of the ruins of Zambo (an ancient Portuguese city), the encounter with
the Chief Mpende on the 17th of January, 1856 (then at war with the
Portuguese), the final arrival at Tete, on the border of the Zambezi,
on the 2d of March--such were the principal halting-places of this
tour.
The 22d of April Livingstone left that station, formerly a rich one,
descended as far as the delta of the river, and arrived at Quilimane,
at its mouth, on the 20th of May, four years after leaving the Cape.
On the 12th of July he embarked for Maurice, and on the 22d of
December he was returning to England, after sixteen years' absence.
The prize of the Geographical Society of Paris, the grand medal of
the London Geographical Society, and brilliant receptions greeted the
illustrious traveler. Another would, perhaps, have thought that repose
was well earned. The doctor did not think so, and departed on the
1st of March, 1858, accompanied by his brother Charles, Captain
Bedinfield, the Drs. Kirk and Meller, and by Messrs. Thornton and
Baines. He arrived in May on the coast of Mozambique, having for an
object the exploration of the basin of the Zambezi.
All would not return from this voyage. A little steamer, the "My
Robert," enabled the explorers to ascend the great river by
the Rongone. They arrived at Tete, September the 8th; thence
reconnoissance of the lower course of the Zambezi and of the Chire,
its left branch, in January, 1859; visit to Lake Chirona in April;
exploration of the Manganjas' territory; discovery of Lake Nyassa
on September 10th; return to the Victoria Falls, August 9th, 1860;
arrival of Bishop Mackensie and his missionaries at the mouth of the
Zambezi, January 31st, 1861; the exploration of the Rovouma, on the
"Pioneer," in March; the return to Lake Nyassa in September, 1861, and
residence there till the end of October; January 30th, 1862, arrival
of Mrs. Livingstone and a second steamer, the "Lady Nyassa:" such were
the events that marked the first years of this new expedition. At
this time, Bishop Mackensie and one of his missionaries had already
succumbed to the unhealthfulness of the climate, and on the 27th of
April, Mrs. Livingstone died in her husband's arms.
In May, the doctor attempted a second reconnoissance of the Rovouma;
then, at the end of November, he entered the Zambezi again, and sailed
up the Chire again. In April, 1863, he lost his companion, Thornton,
sent back to Europe his brother Charles and Dr. Kirk, who were both
exhausted by sickness, and November 10th, for the third time, he saw
Nyassa, of which he completed the hydrography. Three months after he
was again at the mouth of the Zambezi, passed to Zanzibar, and July
20th, 1864, after five years' absence, he arrived in London, where
he published his work entitled: "Exploration of the Zambezi and its
Branches."
January 28th, 1866, Livingstone landed again at Zanzibar. He was
beginning his fourth voyage.
August 8th, after having witnessed the horrible scenes provoked by the
slave-trade in that country, the doctor, taking this time only a few
-cipayes- and a few negroes, found himself again at Mokalaose, on the
banks of the Nyassa. Six weeks later, the majority of the men forming
the escort took flight, returned to Zanzibar, and there falsely spread
the report of Livingstone's death.
He, however, did not draw back. He wished to visit the country
comprised between the Nyassa and Lake Tanganyika. December 10th,
guided by some natives, he traversed the Loangona River, and April 2d,
1867, he discovered Lake Liemmba. There he remained a month between
life and death. Hardly well again August 30th he reached Lake Moero,
of which he visited the northern shore, and November 21st he entered
the town of Cayembe, where he lived forty days, during which he twice
renewed his exploration of Lake Moero.
From Cayembe Livingstone took a northern direction, with the design of
reaching the important town of Oujiji, on the Tanganyika. Surprised by
the rising of the waters, and abandoned by his guides, he was obliged
to return to Cayembe. He redescended to the south June 6th, and six
weeks after gained the great lake Bangoneolo. He remained there till
August 9th, and then sought to reascend toward Lake Tanganyika.
What a journey! On setting out, January 7th, 1869, the heroic doctor's
feebleness was such that be had to be carried. In February he at last
reached the lake and arrived at Oujiji, where he found some articles
sent to his address by the Oriental Company of Calcutta.
Livingstone then had but one idea, to gain the sources of the valley
of the Nile by ascending the Tanganyika. September 21st he was at
Bambarre, in the Manonyema, a cannibal country, and arrived at the
Loualaba--that Loualaba that Cameron was going to suspect, and Stanley
to discover, to be only the upper Zaire, or Congo. At Mamohela the
doctor was sick for eighty days. He had only three servants. July
21st, 1871, he departed again for the Tanganyika, and only reentered
Oujiji October 23d. He was then a mere skeleton.
Meanwhile, before this period, people had been a long time without
news of the traveler. In Europe they believed him to be dead. He
himself had almost lost hope of being ever relieved.
Eleven days after his entrance into Oujiji shots were heard a quarter
of a mile from the lake. The doctor arrives. A man, a white man, is
before him. "Doctor Livingstone, I presume?"
"Yes," replied the latter, raising his cap, with a friendly smile.
Their hands were warmly clasped.
"I thank God," continued the white man, "that He has permitted me to
meet you."
"I am happy," said Livingstone, "to be here to receive you."
The white man was the American Stanley, a reporter of the New York
-Herald-, whom Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of that journal, had just
sent to find David Livingstone.
In the month of October, 1870, this American, without hesitation,
without a word, simply as a hero, had embarked at Bombay for
Zanzibar, and almost following Speke and Burton's route, after untold
sufferings, his life being menaced several times, he arrived at
Oujiji.
The two travelers, now become fast friends, then made an expedition
to the north of Lake Tanganyika. They embarked, pushed as far as Cape
Malaya, and after a minute exploration, were of the opinion that the
great lake had for an outlet a branch of the Loualaba.
It was what Cameron and Stanley himself were going to determine
positively some years after. December 12th, Livingstone and his
companion were returning to Oujiji.
Stanley prepared to depart. December 27th, after a navigation of eight
days, the doctor and he arrived at Ousimba; then, February 23d, they
entered Kouihara.
March 12th was the day of parting.
"You have accomplished," said the doctor to his companion, "what
few men would have done, and done it much better than certain great
travelers. I am very grateful to you for it. May God lead you, my
friend, and may He bless you!"
"May He," said Stanley, taking Livingstone's hand, "bring you back to
us safe and sound, dear doctor!"
Stanley drew back quickly from this embrace, and turned so as to
conceal his tears. "Good-by, doctor, dear friend," he said in a
stifled voice.
"Good-by," replied Livingstone, feebly.
Stanley departed, and July 12th, 1872, he landed at Marseilles.
Livingstone was going to return to his discoveries. August 25th, after
five months passed at Konihara, accompanied by his black servants,
Souzi, Chouma, and Amoda, by two other servants, by Jacob Wainwright,
and by fifty-six men sent by Stanley, he went toward the south of the
Tanganyika.
A month after, the caravan arrived at M'oura, in the midst of storms,
caused by an extreme drought. Then came the rains, the bad will of the
natives, and the loss of the beasts of burden, from falling under the
stings of the tsetse. January 24th, 1873, the little troop was at
Tchitounkone. April 27th, after having left Lake Bangoneolo to the
east, the troop was going toward the village of Tchitambo.
At that place some traders had left Livingstone. This is what Alvez
and his colleague had learned from them. They had good reason to
believe that the doctor, after exploring the south of the lake, would
venture across the Loanda, and come to seek unknown countries in the
west. Thence he was to ascend toward Angola, to visit those regions
infested by the slave-trade, to push as far as Kazounde; the tour
seemed to be all marked out, and it was very probable that Livingstone
would follow it.
Mrs. Weldon then could count on the approaching arrival of the great
traveler, because, in the beginning of June, it was already more than
two months since he had reached the south of Lake Bangoneolo.
Now, June 13th, the day before that on which Negoro would come to
claim from Mrs. Weldon the letter that would put one hundred thousand
dollars in his hands, sad news was spread, at which Alvez and the
traders only rejoiced.
May 1st, 1873, at dawn, Dr. David Livingstone died. In fact, on April
29th, the little caravan had reached the village of Tchitambo, to the
south of the lake. The doctor was carried there on a litter. On the
30th, in the night, under the influence of excessive grief, he moaned
out this complaint, that was hardly heard: "Oh, dear! dear!" and he
fell back from drowsiness.
At the end of an hour he called his servant, Souzi, asking for some
medicine, then murmuring in a feeble voice: "It is well. Now you can
go."
Toward four o'clock in the morning, Souzi and five men of the escort
entered the doctor's hut. David Livingstone, kneeling near his bed,
his head resting on his hands, seemed to be engaged in prayer. Souzi
gently touched his cheek; it was cold. David Livingstone was no more.
Nine months after, his body, carried by faithful servants at the price
of unheard-of fatigues, arrived at Zanzibar. On April 12th, 1874, it
was buried in Westminster Abbey, among those of her great men, whom
England honors equally with her kings.
CHAPTER XV.
WHERE A MANTICORE MAY LEAD.
To what plank of safety will not an unfortunate being cling? Will not
the eyes of the condemned seek to seize any ray of hope, no matter how
vague?
So it had been with Mrs. Weldon. One can understand what she must have
felt when she learned, from Alvez himself, that Dr. Livingstone had
just died in a little Bangoneolo village.
It seemed to her that she was more isolated than ever; that a sort of
bond that attached her to the traveler, and with him to the civilized
world, had just been broken.
The plank of safety sank under her hand, the ray of hope went out
before her eyes. Tom and his companions had left Kazounde for the lake
region. Not the least news of Hercules. Mrs. Weldon was not sure of
any one. She must then fall back on Negoro's proposition, while trying
to amend it and secure a definite result from it.
June 14th, the day fixed by him, Negoro presented himself at Mrs.
Weldon's hut.
The Portuguese was, as always, so he said, perfectly practical.
However, he abated nothing from the amount of the ransom, which his
prisoner did not even discuss. But Mrs. Weldon also showed herself
very practical in saying to him:
"If you wish to make an agreement, do not render it impossible by
unacceptable conditions. The exchange of our liberty for the sum you
exact may take place, without my husband coming into a country where
you see what can be done with a white man! Now, I do not wish him to
come here at any price!"
After some hesitation Negoro yielded, and Mrs. Weldon finished
with the concession that James Weldon should not venture as far as
Kazounde. A ship would land him at Mossamedes, a little port to the
south of Angola, ordinarily frequented by slave-ships, and well-known
by Negoro. It was there that the Portuguese would conduct James W.
Weldon; and at a certain time Alvez's agent would bring thither Mrs.
Weldon, Jack, and Cousin Benedict. The ransom would be given to those
agents on the giving up of the prisoners, and Negoro, who would play
the part of a perfectly honest man with James Weldon, would disappear
on the ship's arrival.
Mrs. Weldon had gained a very important point. She spared her husband
;
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