the dangers of a voyage to Kazounde, the risk of being kept there,
after paying the exacted ransom, and the perils of the return. As to
the six hundred miles that separated Kazounde from Mossamedes, by
going over them as she had traveled on leaving the Coanza, Mrs. Weldon
would only have a little fatigue to fear. Besides, it would be to
Alvez's interest--for he was in the affair--for the prisoners to
arrive safe and sound.
The conditions being thus settled, Mrs. Weldon wrote to her husband,
leaving to Negoro the care of passing himself off as a devoted
servant, who had escaped from the natives. Negoro took the letter,
which did not allow James Weldon to hesitate about following him as
far as Mossamedes, and, the next day, escorted by twenty blacks, he
traveled toward the north.
Why did he take that direction? Was it, then, Negoro's intention to
embark on one of the vessels which frequent the mouths of the Congo,
and thus avoid the Portuguese stations, as well as the penitentiaries
in which he had been an involuntary guest? It was probable. At least,
that was the reason he gave Alvez.
After his departure, Mrs. Weldon must try to arrange her existence
in such a manner as to pass the time of her sojourn at Kazounde as
happily as possible. Under the most favorable circumstances, it would
last three or four months. Negoro's going and returning would require
at least that time.
Mrs. Weldon's intention was, not to leave the factory. Her child,
Cousin Benedict, and she, were comparatively safe there. Halima's good
care softened the severity of this sequestration a little. Besides,
it was probable that the trader would not permit her to leave the
establishment. The great premium that the prisoner's ransom would
procure him, made it well worth while to guard her carefully.
It was even fortunate that Alvez was not obliged to leave Kazounde to
visit his two other factories of Bihe and Cassange. Coimbra was going
to take his place in the expedition on new -razzias- or raids. There
was no motive for regretting the presence of that drunkard. Above all,
Negoro, before setting out, had given Alvez the most urgent commands
in regard to Mrs. Weldon. It was necessary to watch her closely. They
did not know what had become of Hercules. If he had not perished in
that dreadful province of Kazounde, perhaps he would attempt to get
near the prisoner and snatch her from Alvez's hands. The trader
perfectly understood a situation which ciphered itself out by a good
number of dollars. He would answer for Mrs. Weldon as for his own
body.
So the monotonous life of the prisoner during the first days after her
arrival at the factory, was continued. What passed in this enclosure
reproduced very exactly the various acts of native existence outside.
Alvez lived like the other natives of Kazounde. The women of the
establishment worked as they would have done in the town, for the
greater comfort of their husbands or their masters. Their occupations
included preparing rice with heavy blows of the pestle in wooden
mortars, to perfect decortication; cleansing and winnowing maize, and
all the manipulations necessary to draw from it a granulous substance
which serves to compose that potage called "mtyelle" in the country;
the harvesting of the -sorgho-, a kind of large millet, the ripening
of which had just been solemnly celebrated at this time; the
extraction of that fragrant oil from the "mpafon" drupes, kinds
of olives, the essence of which forms a perfume sought for by the
natives; spinning of the cotton, the fibers of which are twisted by
means of a spindle a foot and a half long, to which the spinners
impart a rapid rotation; the fabrication of bark stuffs with the
mallet; the extraction from the tapioca roots, and the preparation of
the earth for the different products of the country, cassava, flour
that they make from the manioc beans, of which the pods, fifteen
inches long, named "mositsanes," grow on trees twenty feet high;
arachides intended to make oil, perennial peas of a bright blue,
known under the name of "tchilobes," the flowers of which relieve the
slightly insipid taste of the milk of sorgho; native coffee, sugar
canes, the juice of which is reduced to a syrup; onions, Indian pears,
sesamum, cucumbers, the seeds of which are roasted like chestnuts; the
preparation of fermented drinks, the "malofori," made with bananas,
the "pombe" and other liquors; the care of the domestic animals, of
those cows that only allow themselves to be milked in the presence of
their little one or of a stuffed calf; of those heifers of small race,
with short horns, some of which have a hump; of those goats which, in
the country where their flesh serves for food, are an important object
of exchange, one might say current money like the slave; finally, the
feeding of the birds, swine, sheep, oxen, and so forth.
This long enumeration shows what rude labors fall on the feeble sex in
those savage regions of the African continent.
During this time the men smoke tobacco or hemp, chase the elephant or
the buffalo, and hire themselves to the traders for the raids. The
harvest of maize or of slaves is always a harvest that takes place in
fixed seasons.
Of those various occupations, Mrs. Weldon only saw in Alvez's factory
the part laid on the women. Sometimes she stopped, looking at them,
while the slaves, it must be said, only replied to her by ugly
grimaces. A race instinct led these unfortunates to hate a white
woman, and they had no commiseration for her in their hearts. Halima
alone was an exception, and Mrs. Weldon, having learned certain words
of the native language, was soon able to exchange a few sentences with
the young slave.
Little Jack often accompanied his mother when she walked in the
inclosure; but he wished very much to go outside. There was, however,
in an enormous baobab, marabout nests, formed of a few sticks, and
"souimangas" nests, birds with scarlet breasts and throats, which
resemble those of the tissirms; then "widows," that strip the thatch
for the benefit of their family; "calaos," whose song was agreeable,
bright gray parrots with red tails, which, in the Manyema, are
called "rouss," and give their name to the chiefs of the tribes;
insectivorous "drougos," similar to gray linnets, with large, red
beaks. Here and there also fluttered hundreds of butterflies of
different species, especially in the neighborhood of the brooks that
crossed the factory; but that was rather Cousin Benedict's affair than
little Jack's, and the latter regretted greatly not being taller,
so as to look over the walls. Alas! where was his poor friend, Dick
Sand--he who had brought him so high up in the "Pilgrim's" masts? How
he would have followed him on the branches of those trees, whose tops
rose to more than a hundred feet! What good times they would have had
together!
Cousin Benedict always found himself very well where he was,
provided insects were not lacking. Happily, he had discovered in the
factory--and he studied as much as he could without magnifying glass
or spectacles--a small bee which forms its cells among the worm-holes
of the wood, and a "sphex" that lays its eggs in cells that are not
its own, as the cuckoo in the nests of other birds. Mosquitoes were
not lacking either, on the banks of the rivulets, and they tattooed
him with bites to the extent of making him unrecognizable. And when
Mrs. Weldon reproached him with letting himself be thus devoured by
those venomous insects: "It is their instinct, Cousin Weldon," he
replied to her, scratching himself till the blood came; "it is their
instinct, and we must not have a grudge against them!"
At last, one day--it was the 17th of June--Cousin Benedict was on the
point of being the happiest of entomologists. But this adventure,
which had unexpected consequences, needs to be related with some
minuteness.
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning. An overpowering heat had
obliged the inhabitants of the factory to keep in their huts, and one
would not even meet a single native in the streets of Kazounde.
Mrs. Weldon was dozing near little Jack, who was sleeping soundly.
Cousin Benedict, himself, suffering from the influence of this
tropical temperature, had given up his favorite hunts, which was a
great sacrifice for him, for, in those rays of the midday sun, he
heard the rustle of a whole world of insects. He was sheltered, then,
at the end of his hut, and there, sleep began to take possession of
him in this involuntary siesta.
Suddenly, as his eyes half closed, he heard a humming; this is one
of those insupportable buzzings of insects, some of which can give
fifteen or sixteen thousand beats of their wings in a second.
"A hexapode!" exclaimed Cousin Benedict, awakened at once, and passing
from the horizontal to the vertical position.
There was no doubt that it was a hexapode that was buzzing in his hut.
But, if Cousin Benedict was very near-sighted, he had at least very
acute hearing, so acute even that he could recognize one insect from
another by the intensity of its buzz, and it seemed to him that this
one was unknown, though it could only be produced by a giant of the
species.
"What is this hexapode?" Cousin Benedict asked himself.
Behold him, seeking to perceive the insect, which was very difficult
to his eyes without glasses, but trying above all to recognize it by
the buzzing of its wings.
His instinct as an entomologist warned him that he had something to
accomplish, and that the insect, so providentially entered into his
hut, ought not to be the first comer.
Cousin Benedict no longer moved. He listened. A few rays of light
reached him. His eyes then discovered a large black point that flew
about, but did not pass near enough for him to recognize it. He held
his breath, and if he felt himself stung in some part of the face or
hands, he was determined not to make a single movement that might put
his hexapode to flight. At last the buzzing insect, after turning
around him for a long time, came to rest on his head. Cousin
Benedict's mouth widened for an instant, as if to give a smile--and
what a smile! He felt the light animal running on his hair. An
irresistible desire to put his hand there seized him for a moment; but
he resisted it, and did well.
"No, no!" thought he, "I would miss it, or what would be worse, I
would injure it. Let it come more within my reach. See it walking! It
descends. I feel its dear little feet running on my skull! This must
be a hexapode of great height. My God! only grant that it may descend
on the end of my nose, and there, by squinting a little, I might
perhaps see it, and determine to what order, genus, species, or
variety it belongs."
So thought Cousin Benedict. But it was a long distance from his skull,
which was rather pointed, to the end of his nose, which was very long.
How many other roads the capricious insect might take, beside his
ears, beside his forehead--roads that would take it to a distance from
the savant's eyes--without counting that at any moment it might retake
its flight, leave the hut, and lose itself in those solar rays where,
doubtless, its life was passed, and in the midst of the buzzing of its
congeners that would attract it outside!
Cousin Benedict said all that to himself. Never, in all his life as
an entomologist, had he passed more touching minutes. An African
hexapode, of a new species, or, at least, of a new variety, or even of
a new sub-variety, was there on his head, and he could not recognize
it except it deigned to walk at least an inch from his eyes.
However, Cousin Benedict's prayer must be heard. The insect, after
having traveled over the half-bald head, as on the summit of some wild
bush, began to descend Cousin Benedict's forehead, and the latter
might at last conceive the hope that it would venture to the top of
his nose. Once arrived at that top, why would it not descend to the
base?
"In its place, I--I would descend," thought the worthy savant.
What is truer than that, in Cousin Benedict's place, any other would
have struck his forehead violently, so as to crush the enticing
insect, or at least to put it to flight. To feel six feet moving on
his skin, without speaking of the fear of being bitten, and not make a
gesture, one will agree that it was the height of heroism. The Spartan
allowing his breast to be devoured by a fox; the Roman holding burning
coals between his fingers, were not more masters of themselves than
Cousin Benedict, who was undoubtedly descended from those two heroes.
After twenty little circuits, the insect arrived at the top of the
nose. Then there was a moment's hesitation that made all Cousin
Benedict's blood rush to his heart. Would the hexapode ascend again
beyond the line of the eyes, or would it descend below?
It descended. Cousin Benedict felt its caterpillar feet coming toward
the base of his nose. The insect turned neither to the right nor to
the left. It rested between its two buzzing wings, on the slightly
hooked edge of that learned nose, so well formed to carry spectacles.
It cleared the little furrow produced by the incessant use of that
optical instrument, so much missed by the poor cousin, and it stopped
just at the extremity of his nasal appendage.
It was the best place this haxapode could choose. At that distance,
Cousin Benedict's two eyes, by making their visual rays converge,
could, like two lens, dart their double look on the insect.
"Almighty God!" exclaimed Cousin Benedict, who could not repress a
cry, "the tuberculous -manticore-."
Now, he must not cry it out, he must only think it. But was it not too
much to ask from the most enthusiastic of entomologists?
To have on the end of his nose a tuberculous -manticore-, with large
elytrums--an insect of the cicendeletes tribe--a very rare specimen
in collections--one that seems peculiar to those southern parts of
Africa, and yet not utter a cry of admiration; that is beyond human
strength.
Unfortunately the -manticore- heard this cry, which was almost
immediately followed by a sneeze, that shook the appendage on which it
rested. Cousin Benedict wished to take possession of it, extended his
hand, shut it violently, and only succeeded in seizing the end of his
own nose.
"Malediction!" exclaimed he. But then he showed a remarkable coolness.
He knew that the tuberculous -manticore- only flutters about, so to
say, that it walks rather than flies. He then knelt, and succeeded in
perceiving, at less than ten inches from his eyes, the black point
that was gliding rapidly in a ray of light.
Evidently it was better to study it in this independent attitude. Only
he must not lose sight of it.
"To seize the -manticore- would be to risk crushing it," Cousin
Benedict said to himself. "No; I shall follow it! I shall admire it! I
have time enough to take it!"
Was Cousin Benedict wrong? However that may be, see him now on all
fours, his nose to the ground like a dog that smells a scent, and
following seven or eight inches behind the superb hexapode. One moment
after he was outside his hut, under the midday sun, and a few minutes
later at the foot of the palisade that shut in Alvez's establishment.
At this place was the -manticore- going to clear the enclosure with a
bound, and put a wall between its adorer and itself? No, that was not
in its nature, and Cousin Benedict knew it well. So he was always
there, crawling like a snake, too far off to recognize the insect
entomologically--besides, that was done--but near enough to perceive
that large, moving point traveling over the ground.
The -manticore-, arrived near the palisade, had met the large entrance
of a mole-hill that opened at the foot of the enclosure. There,
without hesitating, it entered this subterranean gallery, for it is in
the habit of seeking those obscure passages. Cousin Benedict believed
that he was going to lose sight of it. But, to his great surprise, the
passage was at least two feet high, and the mole-hill formed a gallery
where his long, thin body could enter. Besides, he put the ardor of a
ferret into his pursuit, and did not even perceive that in "earthing"
himself thus, he was passing outside the palisade.
In fact, the mole-hill established a natural communication between the
inside and the outside. In half a minute Cousin Benedict was outside
of the factory. That did not trouble him. He was absorbed in
admiration of the elegant insect that was leading him on. But the
latter, doubtless, had enough of this long walk. Its elytrums turned
aside, its wings spread out. Cousin Benedict felt the danger, and,
with his curved hand, he was going to make a provisional prison for
the -manticore-, when--f-r-r-r-r!--it flew away!
What despair! But the -manticore- could not go far. Cousin Benedict
rose; he looked, he darted forward, his two hands stretched out and
open. The insect flew above his head, and he only perceived a large
black point, without appreciable form to him.
Would the -manticore- come to the ground again to rest, after having
traced a few capricious circles around Cousin Benedict's bald head?
All the probabilities were in favor of its doing so.
Unfortunately for the unhappy savant, this part of Alvez's
establishment, which was situated at the northern extremity of the
town, bordered on a vast forest, which covered the territory of
Kazounde for a space of several square miles. If the -manticore-
gained the cover of the trees, and if there, it should flutter from
branch to branch, he must renounce all hope of making it figure in
that famous tin box, in which it would be the most precious jewel.
Alas! that was what happened. The -manticore- had rested again on
the ground. Cousin Benedict, having the unexpected hope of seeing it
again, threw himself on the ground at once. But the -manticore- no
longer walked: it proceeded by little jumps.
Cousin Benedict, exhausted, his knees and hands bleeding, jumped also.
His two arms, his hands open, were extended to the right, to the left,
according as the black point bounded here or there. It might be said
that he was drawing his body over that burning soil, as a swimmer does
on the surface of the water.
Useless trouble! His two hands always closed on nothing. The insect
escaped him while playing with him, and soon, arrived under the fresh
branches, it arose, after throwing into Cousin Benedict's ear, which
it touched lightly, the most intense but also the most ironical
buzzing of its coleopter wings.
"Malediction!" exclaimed Cousin Benedict, a second time. "It escapes
me. Ungrateful hexapode! Thou to whom I reserved a place of honor in
my collection! Well, no, I shall not give thee up! I shall follow thee
till I reach thee!"
He forgot, this discomfited cousin, that his nearsighted eyes would
not enable him to perceive the -manticore- among the foliage. But he
was no longer master of himself. Vexation, anger, made him a fool. It
was himself, and only himself, that he must blame for his loss. If he
had taken possession of the insect at first, instead of following it
"in its independent ways," nothing of all that would have happened,
and he would possess that admirable specimen of African -manticores-,
the name of which is that of a fabulous animal, having a man's head
and a lion's body.
Cousin Benedict had lost his head. He little thought that the most
unforeseen of circumstances had just restored him to liberty. He did
not dream that the ant-hill, into which he had just entered, had opened
to him an escape, and that he had just left Alvez's establishment.
The forest was there, and under the trees was his -manticore-, flying
away! At any price, he wanted to see it again.
See him, then, running across the thick forest, no longer conscious
even of what he was doing, always imagining he saw the precious
insect, beating the air with his long arms like a gigantic
field-spider. Where he was going, how he would return, and if he
should return, he did not even ask himself, and for a good mile
he made his way thus, at the risk of being met by some native, or
attacked by some beast.
Suddenly, as he passed near a thicket, a gigantic being sprang out and
threw himself on him. Then, as Cousin Benedict would have done with
the -manticore-, that being seized him with one hand by the nape of
the neck, with the other by the lower part of the back, and before he
had time to know what was happening, he was carried across the forest.
Truly, Cousin Benedict had that day lost a fine occasion of being able
to proclaim himself the happiest entomologist of the five parts of the
world.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XVI.
A MAGICIAN.
When Mrs. Weldon, on the 17th of the month, did not see Cousin
Benedict reappear at the accustomed hour, she was seized with the
greatest uneasiness. She could not imagine what had become of her
big baby. That he had succeeded in escaping from the factory, the
enclosure of which was absolutely impassable, was not admissible.
Besides, Mrs. Weldon knew her cousin. Had one proposed to this
original to flee, abandoning his tin box and his collection of African
insects, he would have refused without the shadow of hesitation. Now,
the box was there in the hut, intact, containing all that the savant
had been able to collect since his arrival on the continent. To
suppose that he was voluntarily separated from his entomological
treasures, was inadmissible.
Nevertheless, Cousin Benedict was no longer in Jose-Antonio Alvez's
establishment.
During all that day Mrs. Weldon looked for him persistently. Little
Jack and the slave Halima joined her. It was useless.
Mrs. Weldon was then forced to adopt this sad hypothesis: the prisoner
had been carried away by the trader's orders, for motives that she
could not fathom. But then, what had Alvez done with him? Had he
incarcerated him in one of the barracks of the large square? Why this
carrying away, coming after the agreement made between Mrs. Weldon and
Negoro, an agreement which included Cousin Benedict in the number
of the prisoners whom the trader would conduct to Mossamedes, to be
placed in James W. Weldon's hands for a ransom?
If Mrs. Weldon had been a witness of Alvez's anger, when the latter
learned of the prisoner's disappearance, she would have understood
that this disappearance was indeed made against his will. But then, if
Cousin Benedict had escaped voluntarily, why had he not let her into
the secret of his escape?
However, the search of Alvez and his servants, which was made with the
greatest care, led to the discovery of that mole-hill, which put the
factory in direct communication with the neighboring forest. The
trader no longer doubted that the "fly-hunter" had fled by that narrow
opening. One may then judge of his fury, when he said to himself that
this flight would doubtless be put to account, and would diminish the
prize that the affair would bring him.
"That imbecile is not worth much," thought he, "nevertheless, I shall
be compelled to pay dear for him. Ah! if I take him again!"
But notwithstanding the searchings that were made inside, and though
the woods were beaten over a large radius, it was impossible to find
any trace of the fugitive.
Mrs. Weldon must resign herself to the loss of her cousin, and Alvez
mourn over his prisoner. As it could not be admitted that the latter
had established communications with the outside, it appeared evident
that chance alone had made him discover the existence of the
mole-hill, and that he had taken flight without thinking any more of
those he left behind than if they had never existed.
Mrs. Weldon was forced to allow that it must be so, but she did
not dream of blaming the poor man, so perfectly unconscious of his
actions.
"The unfortunate! what will become of him?" she asked herself.
It is needless to say that the mole-hill had been closed up the same
day, and with the greatest care, and that the watch was doubled inside
as well as outside the factory.
The monotonous life of the prisoners then continued for Mrs. Weldon
and her child.
Meanwhile, a climatic fact, very rare at that period of the year, was
produced in the province. Persistent rains began about the 19th of
June, though the -masika- period, that finishes in April, was passed.
In fact, the sky was covered, and continual showers inundated the
territory of Kazounde.
What was only a vexation for Mrs. Weldon, because she must renounce
her walks inside the factory, became a public misfortune for the
natives. The low lands, covered with harvests already ripe, were
entirely submerged. The inhabitants of the province, to whom the crop
suddenly failed, soon found themselves in distress. All the labors
of the season were compromised, and Queen Moini, any more than her
ministers, did not know how to face the catastrophe.
They then had recourse to the magicians, but not to those whose
profession is to heal the sick by their incantations and sorceries, or
who predict success to the natives. There was a public misfortune on
hand, and the best "mganngas," who have the privilege of provoking or
stopping the rains, were prayed to, to conjure away the peril.
Their labor was in vain. It was in vain that they intoned their
monotonous chant, rang their little bells and hand-bells, employed
their most precious amulets, and more particularly, a horn full of mud
and bark, the point of which was terminated by three little horns.
The spirits were exorcised by throwing little balls of dung, or in
spitting in the faces of the most august personages of the court; but
they did not succeed in chasing away the bad spirits that presided
over the formation of the clouds.
Now, things were going from bad to worse, when Queen Moini thought of
inviting a celebrated magician, then in the north of Angola. He was
a magician of the first order, whose power was the more marvelous
because they had never tested it in this country where he had never
come. But there was no question of its success among the Masikas.
It was on the 25th of June, in the morning, that the new magician
suddenly announced his arrival at Kazounde with great ringing of
bells.
This sorcerer came straight to the "tchitoka," and immediately the
crowd of natives rushed toward him. The sky was a little less rainy,
the wind indicated a tendency to change, and those signs of calm,
coinciding with the arrival of the magician, predisposed the minds of
the natives in his favor.
Besides, he was a superb man--a black of the finest water. He was at
least six feet high, and must be extraordinarily strong. This prestige
already influenced the crowd.
Generally, the sorcerers were in bands of three, four, or five when
they went through the villages, and a certain number of acolytes, or
companions, made their cortege. This magician was alone. His whole
breast was zebraed with white marks, done with pipe clay. The lower
part of his body disappeared under an ample skirt of grass stuff, the
"train" of which would not have disgraced a modern elegant. A collar
of birds' skulls was round his neck; on his head was a sort of
leathern helmet, with plumes ornamented with pearls; around his loins
a copper belt, to which hung several hundred bells, noisier than the
sonorous harness of a Spanish mule: thus this magnificent specimen of
the corporation of native wizards was dressed.
All the material of his art was comprised in a kind of basket, of
which a calebash formed the bottom, and which was filled with shells,
amulets, little wooden idols, and other fetiches, plus a notable
quantity of dung balls, important accessories to the incantations and
divinatory practises of the center of Africa.
One peculiarity was soon discovered by the crowd. This magician was
dumb. But this infirmity could only increase the consideration with
which they were disposed to surround him. He only made a guttural
sound, low and languid, which had no signification. The more reason
for being well skilled in the mysteries of witchcraft.
The magician first made the tour of the great place, executing a
kind of dance which put in motion all his chime of bells. The crowd
followed, imitating his movements--it might be said, as a troop of
monkeys following a gigantic, four-handed animal. Then, suddenly, the
sorcerer, treading the principal street of Kazounde, went toward the
royal residence.
As soon as Queen Moini had been informed of the arrival of the new
wizard, she appeared, followed by her courtiers.
The magician bowed to the ground, and lifted up his head again,
showing his superb height. His arms were then extended toward the sky,
which was rapidly furrowed by masses of clouds. The sorcerer pointed
to those clouds with his hand; he imitated their movements in an
animated pantomime. He showed them fleeing to the west, but returning
to the east by a rotary movement that no power could stop.
Then, suddenly, to the great surprise of the town and the court, this
sorcerer took the redoubtable sovereign of Kazounde by the hand. A
few courtiers wished to oppose this act, which was contrary to all
etiquette; but the strong magician, seizing the nearest by the nape of
the neck, sent him staggering fifteen paces off.
The queen did not appear to disapprove of this proud manner of acting.
A sort of grimace, which ought to be a smile, was addressed to the
wizard, who drew the queen on with rapid steps, while the crowd rushed
after him.
This time it was toward Alvez's establishment that the sorcerer
directed his steps. He soon reached the door, which was shut. A
simple blow from his shoulder threw it to the ground, and he led the
conquered queen into the interior of the factory.
The trader, his soldiers and his slaves, ran to punish the daring
being who took it upon himself to throw down doors without waiting for
them to be opened to him. Suddenly, seeing that their sovereign did
not protest, they stood still, in a respectful attitude.
No doubt Alvez was about to ask the queen why he was honored by her
visit, but the magician did not give him time. Making the crowd recede
so as to leave a large space free around him, he recommenced his
pantomime with still greater animation. He pointed to the clouds, he
threatened them, he exorcised them; he made a sign as if he could
first stop them, and then scatter them. His enormous cheeks were
puffed out, and he blew on this mass of heavy vapors as if he had the
strength to disperse them. Then, standing upright, he seemed to intend
stopping them in their course, and one would have said that, owing to
his gigantic height, he could have seized them.
The superstitious Moini, "overcome" by the acting of this tall
comedian, could no longer control herself. Cries escaped her. She
raved in her turn, and instinctively repeated the magician's gestures.
The courtiers and the crowd followed her example, and the mute's
guttural sounds were lost amid those songs; cries, and yells which the
native language furnishes with so much prodigality.
Did the clouds cease to rise on the eastern horizon and veil the
tropical sun? Did they vanish before the exorcisms of this new wizard?
No. And just at this moment, when the queen and her people imagined
that they had appeased the evil spirits that had watered them with so
many showers, the sky, somewhat clear since daybreak, became darker
than ever. Large drops of rain fell pattering on the ground.
Then a sudden change took place in the crowd. They then saw that this
sorcerer was worth no more than the others. The queen's brows were
frowning. They understood that he at least was in danger of losing
his ears. The natives had contracted the circle around him; fists
threatened him, and they were about to punish him, when an unforeseen
incident changed the object of their evil intentions.
The magician, who overlooked the whole yelling crowd, stretched his
arms toward one spot in the enclosure. The gesture was so imperious
that all turned to look at it.
Mrs. Weldon and little Jack, attracted by the noise and the clamor,
had just left their hut. The magician, with an angry gesture, had
pointed to them with his left hand, while his right was raised toward
the sky.
They! it was they'! It was this white woman--it was her child--they
were causing all this evil. They had brought these clouds from their
rainy country, to inundate the territories of Kazounde.
It was at once understood. Queen Moini, pointing to Mrs. Weldon, made
a threatening gesture. The natives, uttering still more terrible
cries, rushed toward her.
Mrs. Weldon thought herself lost, and clasping her son in her arms,
she stood motionless as a statue before this over-excited crowd.
The magician went toward her. The natives stood aside in the presence
of this wizard, who, with the cause of the evil, seemed to have found
the remedy.
The trader, Alvez, knowing that the life of the prisoner was precious,
now approached, not being sure of what he ought to do.
The magician had seized little Jack, and snatching him from his
mother's arms, he held him toward the sky. It seemed as if he were
about to dash the child to the earth, so as to appease the gods.
With a terrible cry, Mrs. Weldon fell to the ground insensible.
But the magician, after having made a sign to the queen, which no
doubt reassured her as to his intentions, raised the unhappy mother,
and while the crowd, completely subdued, parted to give him space, he
carried her away with her child.
Alvez was furious, not expecting this result. After having lost one
of the three prisoners, to see the prize confided to his care thus
escape, and, with the prize, the large bribe promised him by Negoro!
Never! not if the whole territory of Kazounde were submerged by a new
deluge! He tried to oppose this abduction.
The natives now began to mutter against him. The queen had him seized
by her guards, and, knowing what it might cost him, the trader was
forced to keep quiet, while cursing the stupid credulity of Queen
Moini's subjects.
The savages, in fact, expected to see the clouds disappear with those
who had brought them, and they did not doubt that the magician would
destroy the scourge, from which they suffered so much, in the blood of
the strangers.
Meanwhile, the magician carried off his victims as a lion would a
couple of kids which did not satisfy his powerful appetite. Little
Jack was terrified, his mother was unconscious. The crowd, roused to
the highest degree of fury, escorted the magician with yells; but
he left the enclosure, crossed Kazounde, and reentered the forest,
walking nearly three miles, without resting for a moment. Finally he
was alone, the natives having understood that he did not wish to be
followed. He arrived at the bank of a river, whose rapid current
flowed toward the north.
There, at the end of a large opening, behind the long, drooping
branches of a thicket which hid the steep bank, was moored a canoe,
covered by a sort of thatch.
The magician lowered his double burden into the boat, and following
himself, shoved out from the bank, and the current rapidly carried
them down the stream. The next minute he said, in a very distinct
voice:
"Captain, here are Mrs. Weldon and little Jack; I present them to you.
Forward. And may all the clouds in heaven fall on those idiots of
Kazounde!"
* * * * *
CHAPTER XVII.
DRIFTING.
It was Hercules, not easily recognized in his magician's attire, who
was speaking thus, and it was Dick Sand whom he was addressing--Dick
Sand, still feeble enough, to lean on Cousin Benedict, near whom Dingo
was lying.
Mrs. Weldon, who had regained consciousness, could only pronounce
these words:
"You! Dick! You!"
The young novice rose, but already Mrs. Weldon was pressing him in her
arms, and Jack was lavishing caresses on him.
"My friend Dick! my friend Dick!" repeated the little boy. Then,
turning to Hercules: "And I," he added, "I did not know you!"
"Hey! what a disguise!" replied Hercules, rubbing his breast to efface
the variety of colors that striped it.
"You were too ugly!" said little Jack.
"Bless me! I was the devil, and the devil is not handsome."
"Hercules!" said Mrs. Weldon, holding out her hand to the brave black.
"He has delivered you," added Dick Sand, "as he has saved me, though
he will not allow it."
"Saved! saved! We are not saved yet!" replied Hercules. "And besides,
without Mr. Benedict, who came to tell us where you were, Mrs. Weldon,
we could not have done anything."
In fact, it was Hercules who, five days before, had jumped upon the
savant at the moment when, having been led two miles from the factory,
the latter was running in pursuit of his precious manticore. Without
this incident, neither Dick Sand nor the black would have known Mrs.
Weldon's retreat, and Hercules would not have ventured to Kazounde in
a magician's dress.
While the boat drifted with rapidity in this narrow part of the river,
Hercules related what had passed since his flight from the camp on
the Coanza; how, without being seen, he had followed the -kitanda- in
which Mrs. Weldon and her son were; how he had found Dingo wounded;
how the two had arrived in the neighborhood of Kazounde; how a note
from Hercules, carried by the dog, told Dick Sand what had become of
Mrs. Weldon; how, after the unexpected arrival of Cousin Benedict,
he had vainly tried to make his way into the factory, more carefully
guarded than ever; how, at last, he had found this opportunity of
snatching the prisoner from that horrible Jose-Antonio Alvez. Now,
this opportunity had offered itself that same day. A -mgannga-, or
magician, on his witchcraft circuit, that celebrated magician so
impatiently expected, was passing through the forest in which Hercules
roamed every night, watching, waiting, ready for anything.
To spring upon the magician, despoil him of his baggage, and of his
magician's vestments, to fasten him to the foot of a tree with liane
knots that the Davenports themselves could not have untied, to paint
his body, taking the sorcerer's for a model, and to act out his
character in charming and controlling the rains, had been the work
of several hours. Still, the incredible credulity of the natives was
necessary for his success.
During this recital, given rapidly by Hercules, nothing concerning
Dick Sand had been mentioned.
"And you, Dick!" asked Mrs. Weldon.
"I, Mrs. Weldon!" replied the young man. "I can tell you nothing. My
last thought was for you, for Jack! I tried in vain to break the cords
that fastened me to the stake. The water rose over my head. I lost
consciousness. When I came to myself, I was sheltered in a hole,
concealed by the papyrus of this bank, and Hercules was on his knees
beside me, lavishing his care upon me."
"Well! that is because I am a physician," replied Hercules; "a
diviner, a sorcerer, a magician, a fortuneteller!"
"Hercules," said Mrs. Weldon, "tell me, how did you save Dick Sand?"
"Did I do it, Mrs. Weldon?" replied Hercules; "Might not the current
have broken the stake to which our captain was tied, and in the middle
of the night, carried him half-dead on this beam, to the place where
I received him? Besides, in the darkness, there was no difficulty in
gliding among the victims that carpeted the ditch, waiting for the
bursting of the dam, diving under water, and, with a little strength,
pulling up our captain and the stake to which these scoundrels had
bound him! There was nothing very extraordinary in all that! The
first-comer could have done as much. Mr. Benedict himself, or even
Dingo! In fact, might it not have been Dingo?"
A yelping was heard; and Jack, taking hold of the dog's large head,
gave him several little friendly taps.
"Dingo," he asked, "did you save our friend Dick?"
At the same time he turned the dog's head from right to left.
"He says, no, Hercules!" said Jack. "You see that it was not he.
Dingo, did Hercules save our captain?"
The little boy forced Dingo's good head to move up and down, five or
six times.
"He says, yes, Hercules! he says, yes!" cried little Jack. "You see
then that it was you!"
"Friend Dingo," replied Hercules, caressing the dog, "that is wrong.
You promised me not to betray me."
Yes, it was indeed Hercules, who had risked his life to save Dick
Sand. But he had done it, and his modesty would not allow him to
agree to the fact. Besides, he thought it a very simple thing, and he
repeated that any one of his companions would have done the same under
the circumstances.
This led Mrs. Weldon to speak of old Tom, of his son, of Acteon and
Bat, his unfortunate companions.
They had started for the lake region. Hercules had seen them pass with
the caravan of slaves. He had followed them, but no opportunity to
communicate with them had presented itself. They were gone! they were
lost!
Hercules had been laughing heartily, but now he shed tears which he
did not try to restrain.
"Do not cry, my friend," Mrs. Weldon said to him. "God may be
merciful, and allow us to meet them again."
In a few words she informed Dick Sand of all that had happened during
her stay in Alvez's factory.
"Perhaps," she added, "it would have been better to have remained at
Kazounde."
"What a fool I was!" cried Hercules.
"No, Hercules, no!" said Dick Sand. "These wretches would have found
means to draw Mr. Weldon into some new trap. Let us flee together, and
without delay. We shall reach the coast before Negoro can return to
Mossamedes. There, the Portuguese authorities will give us aid and
protection; and when Alvez comes to take his one hundred thousand
dollars--"
"A hundred thousand blows on the old scoundrel's skull!" cried
Hercules; "and I will undertake to keep the count."
However, here was a new complication, although it was very evident
that Mrs. Weldon would not dream of returning to Kazounde. The point
now was to anticipate Negoro. All Dick Sand's projects must tend
toward that end.
Dick Sand was now putting in practise the plan which he had long
contemplated, of gaining the coast by utilizing the current of a
river or a stream. Now, the watercourse was there; its direction was
northward, and it was possible that it emptied into the Zaire. In that
case, instead of reaching St. Paul de Loanda, it would be at the mouth
of the great river that Mrs. Weldon and her companions would arrive.
This was not important, because help would not fail them in the
colonies of Lower Guinea.
Having decided to descend the current of this river, Dick Sand's first
idea was to embark on one of the herbaceous rafts, a kind of floating
isle (of which Cameron has often spoken), which drifts in large
numbers on the surface of African rivers.
But Hercules, while roaming at night on the bank, had been fortunate
enough to find a drifting boat. Dick Sand could not hope for anything
better, and chance had served him kindly. In fact, it was not one of
those narrow boats which the natives generally use.
The perogue found by Hercules was one of those whose length exceeds
thirty feet, and the width four--and they are carried rapidly on the
waters of the great lakes by the aid of numerous paddles. Mrs. Weldon
and her companions could install themselves comfortably in it, and it
was sufficient to keep it in the stream by means of an oar to descend
the current of the river.
At first, Dick Sand, wishing to pass unseen, had formed a project
to travel only at night. But to drift twelve hours out of the
twenty-four, was to double the length of a journey which might be
quite long. Happily, Dick Sand had taken a fancy to cover the perogue
with a roof of long grasses, sustained on a rod, which projected fore
and aft. This, when on the water, concealed even the long oar. One
would have said that it was a pile of herbs which drifted down stream,
in the midst of floating islets. Such was the ingenious arrangement
of the thatch, that the birds were deceived, and, seeing there some
grains to pilfer, red-beaked gulls, "arrhinisgas" of black plumage,
and gray and white halcyons frequently came to rest upon it.
Besides, this green roof formed a shelter from the heat of the sun. A
voyage made under these conditions might then be accomplished almost
without fatigue, but not without danger.
In fact, the journey would be a long one, and it would be necessary
to procure food each day. Hence the risk of hunting on the banks if
fishing would not suffice, and Dick Sand had no firearms but the gun
carried off by Hercules after the attack on the ant-hill; but he
counted on every shot. Perhaps even by passing his gun through the
thatch of the boat he might fire with surety, like a butter through
the holes in his hut.
Meanwhile, the perogue drifted with the force of the current a
distance not less than two miles an hour, as near as Dick Sand could
estimate it.
He hoped to make, thus, fifty miles a day. But, on account of this
very rapidity of the current, continual care was necessary to avoid
obstacles--rocks, trunks of trees, and the high bottoms of the river.
Besides, it was to be feared that this current would change to rapids,
or to cataracts, a frequent occurrence on the rivers of Africa.
The joy of seeing Mrs. Weldon and her child had restored all Dick
Sand's strength, and he had posted himself in the fore-part of the
boat. Across the long grasses, his glance observed the downward
course, and, either by voice or gesture, he indicated to Hercules,
whose vigorous hands held the oar, what was necessary so as to keep in
the right direction.
Mrs. Weldon reclined on a bed of dry leaves in the center of the boat,
and grew absorbed in her own thoughts. Cousin Benedict was taciturn,
frowning at the sight of Hercules, whom he had not forgiven for his
intervention in the affair of the manticore. He dreamed of his lost
collection, of his entomological notes, the value of which would
not be appreciated by the natives of Kazounde. So he sat, his limbs
stretched out, and his arms crossed on his breast, and at times he
instinctively made a gesture of raising to his forehead the glasses
which his nose did not support. As for little Jack, he understood
that he must not make a noise; but, as motion was not forbidden, he
imitated his friend Dingo, and ran on his hands and feet from one end
of the boat to the other.
During the first two days Mrs. Weldon and her companions used the food
that Hercules had been able to obtain before they started. Dick Sand
only stopped for a few hours in the night, so as to gain rest. But he
did not leave the boat, not wishing to do it except when obliged by
the necessity of renewing their provisions.
No incident marked the beginning of the voyage on this unknown river,
which measured, at least, more than a hundred and fifty feet in
width. Several islets drifted on the surface, and moved with the same
rapidity as the boat. So there was no danger of running upon them,
unless some obstacle stopped them.
The banks, besides, seemed to be deserted. Evidently these portions of
the territory of Kazounde were little frequented by the natives.
Numerous wild plants covered the banks, and relieved them with a
profusion of the most brilliant colors. Swallow-wort, iris, lilies,
clematis, balsams, umbrella-shaped flowers, aloes, tree-ferns, and
spicy shrubs formed a border of incomparable brilliancy. Several
forests came to bathe their borders in these rapid waters.
Copal-trees, acacias, "bauhinias" of iron-wood, the trunks covered
with a dross of lichens on the side exposed to the coldest winds,
fig-trees which rose above roots arranged in rows like mangroves, and
other trees of magnificent growth, overhung the river. Their high
tops, joining a hundred feet above, formed a bower which the solar
rays could not penetrate. Often, also, a bridge of lianes was thrown
from one bank to the other, and during the 27th little Jack, to his
intense admiration, saw a band of monkeys cross one of these vegetable
passes, holding each other's tail, lest the bridge should break under
their weight.
These monkeys are a kind of small chimpanzee, which in Central Africa
has received the name of "sokos." They have low foreheads, clear
yellow faces, and high-set ears, and are very ugly examples of the
-simiesque- race. They live in bands of a dozen, bark like dogs, and
are feared by the natives, whose children they often carry off to
scratch or bite.
In passing the liane bridge they never suspected that, beneath that
mass of herbs which the current bore onward, there was a little
boy who would have exactly served to amuse them. The preparations,
designed by Dick Sand, were very well conceived, because these
clear-sighted beasts were deceived by them.
Twenty miles farther on, that same day, the boat was suddenly stopped
in its progress.
"What is the matter?" asked Hercules, always posted at his oar.
"A barrier," replied Dick Sand; "but a natural barrier."
"It must be broken, Mr. Dick."
"Yes, Hercules, and with a hatchet. Several islets have drifted upon
it, and it is quite strong."
"To work, captain! to work!" replied Hercules, who came and stood in
the fore-part of the perogue.
This barricade was formed by the interlacing of a sticky plant with
glossy leaves, which twists as it is pressed together, and becomes
very resisting. They call it "tikatika," and it will allow people to
cross watercourses dry-shod, if they are not afraid to plunge twelve
inches into its green apron. Magnificent ramifications of the lotus
covered the surface of this barrier.
It was already dark. Hercules could, without imprudence, quit the
boat, and he managed his hatchet so skilfully that two hours afterward
the barrier had given way, the current turned up the broken pieces on
the banks, and the boat again took the channel.
Must it be confessed! That great child of a Cousin Benedict had hoped
for a moment that they would not be able to pass. Such a voyage seemed
to him unnecessary. He regretted Alvez's factory and the hut that
contained his precious entomologist's box. His chagrin was real, and
indeed it was pitiful to see the poor man. Not an insect; no, not one
to preserve!
What, then, was his joy when Hercules, "his pupil" after all, brought
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