THE LAST OF BUKÁRI MOSHI.
When we had emerged from the tunnel the sun was already glowing
crimson through the tops of the trees. As we reached the track, the
short tropical twilight was beginning to fade, and before we had
followed its windings for a quarter of a mile, the light had gone and
the stars were twinkling through the rifts of the cloudy sky. It was
fortunate that the night was not completely overcast, for had it been,
I should have had no means of judging the direction in which our
flight was leading us; as it was, an occasional glimpse of the
“pointers” of the Great Bear told me that our average course was to
the north-east.
As the darkness closed in, it became impossible to maintain the pace
at which we had started, for the track, although less obstructed than
many forest roads, furnished but rough travelling; but we trudged
along as fast as the nature of the ground would allow us, only pausing
now and again to listen for sounds of pursuit. Our long and arduous
day’s work had made us weary enough, but the fear of recapture was a
spur that would have driven us forward even though we were dropping
with fatigue; and the chance of being overtaken was not so remote
either, for the path along which we were travelling appeared to be the
only one that passed near to the tunnel, and its existence could
hardly be unknown to the people of Aboási.
Hence it seemed highly probable that a party would be sent to examine
this path as soon as our traces had been found in the tunnel, and it
was not unlikely that we were already being followed; so we pressed on
hour after hour, until the stars that had peeped out through the haze
of the lower sky, looked down upon us from the zenith, and told us
that half the night was spent.
The country hereabouts seemed almost uninhabited, for we saw no sign
of any human dwelling until past midnight; when we hurried, as
silently as we could, through the deserted street of a tiny hamlet,
apparently unobserved except by an unseen pariah, whose high falsetto
howls were still audible when we had left it half a mile behind.
There is, however, a limit to human endurance, even under the stimulus
of fear, and about two hours after midnight we agreed that we could go
no further without a rest; so striking off the path to the left, we
pushed our way a short distance into the forest until we reached a
large tree with high buttressed roots like those of the silk-cotton.
In a triangular space between two of these roots we sat down and
composed ourselves for sleep, half reclining with our backs against
the butt of the tree; but we had scarcely begun to doze when a loud
purr sounded from within a few feet of us, and as we both at once sat
bolt upright, a large, dark shape moved noiselessly away.
The faint red light of the rising moon now began to filter through the
trees and dimly illuminate the space opposite our resting place.
Across this space there presently crept a large, shadowy form, which
moved without a sound, and which I could now plainly make out to be a
leopard. I rapped the hilt of my knife sharply against the tree, and
the creature turned and trotted away; but in less than a minute a soft
purr came from the dusky obscurity beyond, and then a half-smothered
miall like the voice of a great tom-cat. Bukári and I both clapped
our hands and shouted, whereupon a loud rustling in the undergrowth
close by told us that the brute had made off again; but it had hardly
gone when the long-drawn, melancholy cry of a hyæna sounded from the
opposite direction, and presently as we sat stock-still and listened,
a grey silhouette with high shoulders and green, glowing eyes stole
silently across the dimly lighted space until a low, rumbling growl
from the dark bushes made it turn and shuffle away, snarling and
tittering as it went.
Sleep under these circumstances was impossible, in spite of our
fatigue. All night the leopard hovered round, now creeping close up
with insinuating purrs, now mialling savagely at a little distance,
now growling and spitting at some prowling hyæna. Nor were these the
only disturbers of our peace, for all the monkeys of the forest seemed
to have assembled to fight and quarrel in the tree above us; a
veritable parliament of pottos had foregathered close by; while
shortly before dawn a measured tramp and the crashing of branches told
us that a troop of elephants was passing.
So the night wore slowly and wearily away, and the first streaks of
daylight found us still sitting wide awake in the angle of the root
buttresses; but as the sun rose, the nocturnal beasts crept away to
their lairs and left us alone, and at last we were able to lie down in
peace on the soft earth and forget our miseries in sleep.
The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees when I awoke and
rose, yawning and stretching my stiffened limbs. Bukári still slept,
and as I was loth to wake him, I occupied myself by making short
excursions, keeping always well within sight of the tree, in the hopes
of picking up something eatable. In one of these journeys, as I came
round the trunk of a small tree, I perceived a large hornbill on the
ground. The bird’s back was towards me, and it was busy tearing the
skin off a plantain, which it had probably stolen from some village,
so I was able to steal up behind it without being observed; and
eventually with a sudden grab I seized it by the tail feathers, and in
spite of its kicking, squawking, and snapping with its huge beak, I
bore it in triumph back to the tree.
The noise that the creature made as I twisted its neck, woke Bukári;
so without more ado, I dismembered the warm carcase, and we proceeded
to devour it, and a most disgusting and cannibal-like repast it was;
notwithstanding which I ate up all the flesh I could scrape off the
bones, while as to Bukári, who had the advantage of not being able to
see what he was eating, he gobbled up flesh, skin, and entrails with a
horrible relish, and seemed to have half a mind to finish up with the
feathers.
When we had breakfasted in this prehistoric manner we made our way
back to the path and resumed our journey, but we were both stiff and
tired from the previous day’s exertions, and crawled along rather
sluggishly. After half an hour’s weary trudging we heard the crowing
of a cock, and a bend in the path showed the entrance to a small
village.
I had serious doubts as to the wisdom of venturing into the
neighbourhood of any human habitation, but Bukári urged me to try to
get some food, and while we were debating I perceived that we were
already observed; so I walked boldly into the street, leading my
companion, and looked about. A single glance showed me that we were
the objects of the keenest curiosity, for in less than a minute the
entire population of the village had assembled, and stood about
staring at us and whispering together, but keeping at a respectful
distance nevertheless. Our strange appearance might, indeed, have
accounted for their surprise, but there was something in their manner
that filled me with uneasiness and suspicion, and I determined to make
our stay as brief as possible.
As Bukári spoke the Ochwi or Ashanti language, I led him up to the
group of villagers, to whom he made his appeal in a gruff, abrupt
manner, but pitifully enough, eliciting, however, no more satisfactory
response than an emphatically expressed desire that we should leave
the village at once; but as we were turning disconsolately away, a
fat, elderly woman bustled into her house, and immediately returned
with a large, roasted yam, which she put into Bukári’s hands, and
then taking us by the shoulders, fairly ran us out of the village,
exclaiming in an undertone, “Go! quickly, as far away as you can, _and
keep off the road!_”
The friendly hint was not thrown away, and, when we had thanked the
good-natured soul, I ostentatiously dragged Bukári off the path and
re-entered the forest to the right in sight of the whole village; but
after walking parallel with the road for a quarter of a mile, I
crossed it and plunged into the forest on the left. I did not,
however, go far from the track, for the evening was coming on apace,
and I felt that we must keep on the move through the darkness; it
being evidently impossible to sleep in the forest without the
protection of a fire; and whereas it was quite impracticable to
attempt to walk through the forest in the dark, the road would be
comparatively safe, as it is unusual for Africans to travel at night.
With what remained of daylight we sat down to make our meal off the
yam, which I cut evenly into two parts, falling upon my half with the
avidity of starvation; but Bukári, who usually ate like a wolf, made
so little progress with his portion, that, when I was crunching the
last fragment of rind, he had barely scooped out half the mealy
inside.
“Is thy stomach too proud for yam now thou hast tasted meat?” I asked.
“It is not my stomach that is proud,” he replied with a discontented
growl. “I can hardly get my mouth open. My jaws are as stiff as the
lock of a rusty musket; they have had too little to do lately.”
It was dark before he had finished eating, and even then he had not
cleaned out the yam; but tucking the remainder under his arm,
announced that he was ready.
By this time I was feeling quite fresh and lively, and ready for such
a night march as would fairly take us out of reach of the fetish-men;
but Bukári plodded on in a dejected, spiritless manner that caused me
some anxiety. My attempts to keep up a cheerful conversation met with
but short and gruff responses, and presently he announced that his
jaws were too stiff for talking, and relapsed into complete silence.
So we trudged on through the darkness, for the sky was overcast and
the forest dense, speaking not a word, and travelling at but a poor
pace, until nearly midnight, when Bukári suddenly halted.
“What is it?” I asked. “Art thou tired?”
“I am weak,” he replied, “and my limbs feel as if they were made of
wood. I can go no farther to-night.”
He spoke in a thick, strange voice through his clenched teeth, and was
evidently feeling ill. It was most unfortunate that he should break
down just now, but there was no help for it, so I led the way off the
road for a short distance, literally feeling my way through the thick
undergrowth, until I felt the butt of a tree, and by this we sat down
to wait for the approach of day. When we had sat for some time in
silence--for Bukári was evidently disinclined for conversation--my
companion remarked huskily that it was needless for us both to watch;
and he thereupon stretched himself on the ground and appeared to fall
asleep.
The forest was much quieter to-night than on the previous night;
indeed, with the exception of a few civets, genets and lemurs, and one
or two nocturnal birds, there was little stirring in our vicinity,
and, as hour after hour passed, my watch became gradually relaxed.
First I leaned my elbow on one of the roots of the tree, then I rested
my head on my arm and immediately began to doze, and I must then have
fallen into a deep sleep, for when I again opened my eyes it was broad
daylight, and I perceived two men standing at a little distance
regarding my companion and me with singular and intense interest. At
first I was considerably startled, but a second glance showed that
they were evidently natives of the district, and by their tall
lion-skin caps and long guns I could tell that they were hunters. But
they seemed more startled by our appearance than I was by theirs, for
they stood motionless, craning forward with an expression of horrified
curiosity that made me wonder what appearance I presented, until I
happened to glance at Bukári, when I, too, started with a shock of
horror. For the Moshi’s face, forbidding at all times, was contorted
with a most horrid grimace--a fixed, sardonic, diabolical grin.
I recoiled and stared in amazement as he lay, stiff and stark, with
clenched fists, his eyebrows raised, his forehead wrinkled, and his
mouth pulled down at the corners until every tooth in his head was
visible, and I supposed that he was troubled by some frightful dream.
But even as I gazed, his features relaxed, his hands opened, and he
uttered a deep groan.
“What is it, Bukári?” I asked. “Art thou in pain?”
His lips parted, showing his tightly clenched teeth, as if he would
speak, but instantly his hands closed, his limbs stiffened, and again
that awful grin spread over his face, giving him the most grotesquely
frightful aspect. I leaned over and took his hand, but his arm was as
immovably rigid as that of a wooden image, and when I laid my hand
upon his body it felt as hard and unyielding as though it were
modelled in bronze. And as I looked at him more closely, at his
stiffened arms and legs, his starting muscles and corded throat, I
could see that every part of his body was vibrating with a fine,
almost imperceptible tremor, and in a flash I realised the dreadful
truth.
It was tetanus.
The subtle poison had found its way in through his untended wound, and
its effects had burst with the fury of a tornado on his exhausted
body.
The two hunters, who had stood staring like frightened children, drew
gradually nearer, so I addressed them in Hausa; but they shook their
heads, and after talking together for a minute or two, they turned and
disappeared among the trees.
The paroxysm had now subsided, and my unfortunate companion lay
breathing quickly, and keeping very still for fear of exciting a fresh
spasm. For the same reason I was afraid to touch him, but I placed my
ear close to his mouth in case he was able to speak, and as I did so,
he breathed into it the one word “_rua_”--water.
I stole away softly to see if I could find any brook or stream close
by--for I dared not risk going far away in that pathless
wilderness--but was unable to discover any sign of water; but, as I
was returning, I perceived the hunters apparently making in the same
direction, and I noticed that each of them now carried something.
Following them, not without suspicion, I saw them approach Bukári,
and then one of them laid upon the ground near his feet a little
collection of eggs and one or two roasted plantains, and the other put
down a gourd shell full of water.
I came up at this moment, and began thanking them in Hausa, but they
merely pointed to the provisions and walked away without a word.
The day that followed was most miserable and harrowing. At first I
made some efforts to give my poor comrade the drink that he craved
for, but I soon found that, not only were his jaws immovably locked,
but the lightest touch, or even a sound, instantly brought on one of
the terrible paroxysms. Callous as it seemed, the kindest thing to do
was to keep away from him, and only watch at a distance, in case he
should be molested by animals.
When I had partaken sparingly of the provisions left by the
kind-hearted hunters, I looked about for some occupation with which to
while away the tedious and anxious time. First I cut a stout sapling
of hard wood, and fashioned from it a rough spear. Then I bethought me
that a fire would be necessary for the night, if I would not have my
helpless companion torn to pieces before my eyes, so I gathered some
bark from a dead tree, and by means of an elastic twig and some thin,
twine-like creeper, made a rude bow-drill such as I had read of as
being used by some barbarous races. With this primitive appliance and
a pointed stick I set to work to drill the bark, and sawed away
perseveringly for half an hour without any result, until at last, to
my joy, the bark began first to blacken and then to smoke, and finally
by vigorous blowing with my mouth, I got a large piece well aglow. The
fire, once started, crackled up bravely, and I was glad to see that
the smoke blew away from the direction of the road.
During these various occupations I frequently stepped over to where
Bukári was lying, to see if I could do anything for him, but I
usually hurried away again, sick at heart, unable to bear the sight of
his suffering; for the paroxysms grew more frequent and seemed to last
longer, and the poor fellow’s body and limbs began to display horrid
bumps and swellings where the muscles had been torn asunder by the
violence of the spasms.
Things went on thus until late in the afternoon, by which time I had a
good fire burning. I had been making a rather long round to gather
sticks for fuel, and was returning to the fire, when I turned aside to
see if there was any change in Bukári’s condition.
As I came in sight of him he seemed to be lying in a more easy
position, for his limbs were somewhat relaxed and his hands partly
unclosed. Very softly I approached, hoping he might be asleep, and
when I rounded the tree I saw that his head had fallen to one side,
and that his mouth was open. With a quick suspicion I strode up to him
and touched him. His flesh was soft and flabby, and when I lifted his
arm and let it fall, it dropped limply to the ground.
He was dead.
There under the shimmering leaves, with the soft voice of the forest
whispering around, he lay at last in security and peace, his long
sufferings past, his perils ended.
I sat down beside him and looked into his face--hideous in death as it
had been in life--and thought of all that he had suffered during the
long years of his slavery, of his bold efforts to escape, and the
hopes he had cherished of a life of ease and plenty when he should
have brought home his share of the treasure. And now he lay dead in
the lonely wilderness.
But after all it was better so, for he was at least beyond the reach
of the malice of his enemies.
The fading light warned me to make what preparations I intended for
the night, for although I could not bury the poor remains and must
abandon the body on the morrow, I could not bear to leave it with the
breath hardly out of it, to the ghoul-like beasts; so I hastily heaped
together the faggots that I had collected, and built round the corpse
four fires, which I lighted from the embers of the one I had already
made. Within the space thus enclosed I sat at the feet of the body
through the long night, often dozing with my head on my knees, and
waking to tend the fire or fling a glowing faggot at the hyænas which
crowded round, snuffling hungrily, and howling with anger and
disappointment.
At last the faint grey of dawn glimmered through the trees, and I
rose, weary and sad at heart. A small remnant of the hunters’ donation
remained, and having eaten this and drained the water gourd, I took my
last farewell of the silent figure, lying amidst the smouldering
fires, and turned away towards the road.
Although Bukári had been to me but a hindrance and a burden, yet as I
took my way alone along the little path and missed the familiar pull
upon my hand, the landscape grew dim before my eyes, and more than
once a tear dropped down my cheek.
But as I trudged on, my own desperate condition distracted me from
these sentimental regrets, and I began to seriously consider what
course I was to take. Even if I escaped the pursuit of the
fetish-men--and I certainly did not mean to be taken alive if I could
help it--I was in a position of extraordinary peril; for while I was
totally ignorant of the country and without any means of subsistence
whatever, my naked and destitute state must render me an object of
suspicion to any person I might meet, especially as I was evidently
not a native of that part of the continent.
I was yet turning over these facts in my mind when they received a
very apposite and unpleasant illustration; for the path on which I was
travelling suddenly joined a broad and well-worn track, and I had
hardly entered this when I saw a party of six men coming towards me. I
would have turned aside into the bush and hidden until they had
passed, but they had already seen me, and to fly was to invite
pursuit, so I held boldly on my way, and this I did with more
confidence since the dress of the strangers showed them to be
Mahommedans and probably Hausas.
As I approached, they all stopped and stared at me, and I heard one of
them say:
“This must be the Christian. Doubtless he has left the blind man to
take care of himself.”
These words filled me with grave anxiety, but I pretended to have
heard nothing, and made as if I would pass, giving the usual Hausa
salutation.
“Whither goest thou, friend?” asked one of the men.
This was a poser. For all I knew I might be steering straight for
Jerusalem, but I answered as confidently as I could:
“I go to look for my friends who are journeying to Kantámpo.”
“Then thou art going the wrong way,” said the man, with a grin, and
his companions burst into loud, insolent guffaws.
“Who and what art thou?” enquired the first man.
“I am called Yusufu Dan-Egadesh,” said I, “and I am a Fulani
merchant----”
“Where is thy friend, the blind Moshi?” interrupted another man, and
as I hesitated, he continued:
“Tell us no more lies. We know thee. Thou art the white man whom the
wizards are seeking. We passed them but a little while since, and they
told us how thou and another slave had run away. Now listen and take
thy choice. Wilt thou come with us as our servant, or shall we take
thee back to the wizards?”
I was between the devil and the deep sea, but the devil being
infinitely the worse, I decided without hesitation.
“I will go with thee and thy friends,” I said.
“Very well,” rejoined the man who appeared to be the leader. “Give me
thy knife, and let me secure thee with this rope.”
“Why cannot I walk free?” I asked, eyeing the grass rope, which the
man produced, with great disfavour. “I have said I will come with
thee.”
“It is well that thou shouldst seem to be our captive,” he replied.
“Thou canst walk free when we are out of this country.”
“I do not see the necessity,” I persisted, but my remonstrances were
cut short by another of the men who had stolen behind me and now
suddenly and skilfully dropped a noose over my shoulders, binding my
arms closely to my sides; whereupon the others proceeded to bind my
wrists and fit a halter round my neck with most suspicious neatness
and rapidity.
This business concluded, we all moved off at a brisk pace, one of the
ruffians leading me by the rope as if I had been a camel.
I listened attentively to their conversation as we walked, but could
make out nothing from it as to who or what these men were. Nor did I
care a great deal. The one vital question that excluded all others was
whether or not they were going to hand me back to the fetish priests,
and on this point I was full of dreadful apprehension.
We walked on quickly for a couple of hours in a northerly direction,
and I noticed that the country was rapidly changing in character. The
dense, shady forest opened out at increasingly frequent intervals into
grassy expanses, and the great trees of the silk-cotton tribe began to
give place to much smaller trees resembling the apple and pear in
character.
About noon, as we were passing through a belt of forest, I thought I
could distinguish a sound like the murmur of many voices, and there
came through the trees the scent of green wood burning. A few minutes
later we came out into a large grassy opening, where a very singular
and busy scene presented itself.
A large camp had just been struck, and the caravan was preparing to
get on the move. A dozen or so of beehive-shaped huts were placed in a
group with a number of fires round them, and from these various
cooking pots of brass and iron were being collected and made up into
loads for the carriers. A party of Hausas, very formidably armed,
stood lounging about the huts, and one of them was engaged in fitting
a saddle with high fore and aft peaks on to a small, rough-looking
horse, while several others were bustling about, allotting the various
loads to the carriers. It was these latter that at once absorbed my
attention. They must have been a hundred and fifty in number, of whom
more than two-thirds were women and children, and their appearance was
most miserable and neglected; for not only were they half-starved and
dirty, but there was hardly a rag of clothing among the whole company.
Each of them wore a hinged iron collar, and, through a ring in this,
was passed a rope by which they were all connected together in a long
line, and each had upon the right wrist a kind of handcuff, which was
fastened to the collar, so that the hand was raised above the
shoulder. Some of them who carried burdens, had both wrists shackled
to the loads, while others were allowed to steady the burden with the
free hand.
As we came to a halt and I surveyed the long row of burdenless
captives, each with one hand raised and the elbow projecting forward,
I could not be in doubt for a moment as to the nature of this
procession. It was obviously a slave caravan, and it was equally
obvious that I was destined to join its ranks, to be driven to some
neighbouring market and sold.
Alarming, however, as the prospect was, I experienced a distinct sense
of relief, for the imminent and really appalling danger--that of being
carried captive back to the mine--seemed to be past, and as to the
future--well, that would be provided for according to the
circumstances that might arise.
My captors led me to the huts, where we found a fat, irritable old man
sitting upon a mat and giving orders to some younger men, who appeared
to be his sons.
“Well, Maháma,” he said sharply as we approached, “thou hast kept us
waiting a long time. What hast thou got?”
“The people had no slaves at all,” replied the fellow who held my
rope. “They say that the Ashanti king has bought all there were for
fighting men and for his devil-worship, but we have picked up one on
the road, as thou seest.”
“This?” exclaimed the old man sourly, pointing derisively at me. “Why,
he looketh like a Moor or a man of Asben. No one will have him as a
gift.”
“He is no Moor, my father,” replied the other. “He is a white man, a
Christian.”
“What!” bawled the old man, “an Anasára? But he looketh not like one.
I thought they had yellow hair and eyes like those of a sheep.
Besides, who would have a Christian? They are worse than Moors; as
weak as children, and as cunning as monkeys.”
“This one looketh not very weak,” observed Maháma, holding out my arm
for the old man’s inspection, “and the wizards whom we met, who were
seeking him, said that he had slain I know not how many of their
fellows.”
“Then, thou fool!” shouted the old man, “of what use is he to us? Who
is going to buy a slave that is ready to slay his masters? There! take
him away, and make him secure lest he fall to killing us; and make
ready to start at once, for thou hast wasted enough of our day
already.”
Without replying, the somewhat crestfallen Maháma marched me down to
the farther end of the line, and hitched my halter on to the
collar-ring of the last slave, so that as the long queue began to
move, I brought up the rear. As far as I could make out, the caravan
was headed by the old man, Sálifu Sókoto by name, who rode in state
upon his horse, followed by a body guard of the younger Hausas; then
came the slaves, strung together by a long rope, and last of all, a
rear guard of the older and more responsible members of the caravan,
including Maháma and the men who had captured me. Many of the slaves
carried on their heads burdens of some kind--cooking utensils,
reserves of food, and a little merchandise--a highly economical
arrangement by which all transport expenses were avoided.
The country, as I have mentioned, was much more open in this part;
indeed, the forest had dwindled to occasional patches, which fringed
the banks of streams, and, as we marched on, we passed for the most
part across grassy plains covered pretty thickly with gum-bearing wild
plum trees, and the small, scraggy trees which yield shea butter. Our
progress was, therefore, unhindered by the endless obstructions that
are met with in the dense forest, and although the road was but a
rough path, we travelled at quite a good pace, considering our numbers
and the awkward way in which most of us were linked together. For my
own part, beyond the ignominy of being led to market by a halter, I
suffered no inconvenience, for I had no burden to carry, and I kept up
very easily with the caravan. My hands were certainly bound, but not
tightly or uncomfortably, and I should have been quite at my ease had
it not been for the hot sun, which, as the day wore on, began to pour
down unpleasantly on my naked body, and especially on my shaven head.
I noticed with some surprise that no restrictions were placed upon
conversation, for, as we trudged along, a loud and continuous hum
arose from the slaves, who not only talked incessantly to one another,
but even chatted quite amicably with any of the Hausas who happened to
be near.
This resigned and philosophical acceptance of their condition, and the
tacit recognition of its legality, struck me as very odd; but it was
evidently the usual attitude of the captive and the one expected; for
Maháma walked close behind me for a long distance and discussed with
me my late adventures--on which subject, however, I was extremely
reticent--as though our relations were perfectly natural and
agreeable.
With the slave to whom I was linked--a young, light-coloured Fulah
woman--I became immediately quite friendly--indeed, from the moment of
my arrival, we had regarded one another with mutual interest and
curiosity. For my part, I was surprised to see a woman of her
nationality and appearance among the slaves, of whom the rest were
mostly Grunshis, Moshis, Dagómbas, Jámans, and other pagan
negroes--unconsidered trifles that might have been snapped up or
bought cheap from the neighbouring Wongáras; while she was still more
puzzled by my appearance. For in this part of Africa the Fulah, the
Hausa, and the Moor are accustomed to swagger about in fine raiment
and lord it over the negroes, so that my naked and poverty-stricken
appearance was highly anomalous.
“What is thy name, child of my mother?” she asked me during a
momentary halt caused by some obstruction ahead.
“I am called Yúsufu Da’n-Égadesh,” I replied, “but some call me
Yúsufu Fuláni.”
“But thou art not a Fulah?” she asked dubiously.
“My father was a Da’n-Asben, but my mother was a Fulah.”
“Then, no doubt, thou resemblest thy father. As for me, I am called
Aminé, and am a maid of Futa; my father and mother were both Fulahs.”
At this moment the caravan moved on, but, the ice having been broken,
we continued our conversation as we went, and while Aminé furnished
me with a full and detailed account of her life from birth to the
current date, including her capture while on a journey, I replied with
an autobiography more remarkable for careful editing than strict
veracity.
“What is amiss with thy foot?” I enquired presently, observing that
she limped as if in pain.
“I struck it against a rock two days ago,” she replied.
“It must be wearisome to carry thy burden with a lame foot,” I said,
for she bore on her head a bundle of rolled-up mats.
“It is,” she replied simply, and then resumed her cheerful and
vivacious babble and unending reminiscences.
I was deeply touched by her stoical uncomplaining endurance of what
must have been rather severe suffering, for her foot was swollen and
evidently tender, and I took an early opportunity of speaking to
Maháma on the subject.
“The maid is but ill fitted to carry a burden,” I said. “She is barely
able to walk.”
“It is no affair of thine,” replied Maháma, frowning.
“I would rather carry it myself than see her limping under its
weight,” said I. “Wilt thou set it on my head next time we halt?”
“Why dost thou wish to carry it?” demanded Maháma suspiciously. “Is
it that thou art a fool, that thou wouldst carry a burden when thou
mightest walk at thine ease?”
“I would help the maid who is a captive like myself,” I replied.
“Besides,” I added with a sudden inspiration, “the sun is hot, and I
have neither turban nor hat.”
This explanation appeared to satisfy him, and when we next halted,
while the head of the column waded through a deep stream, he
transferred Aminé’s burden to me, not without some protests on her
part, fastening my right wrist to the cord of the bundle.
My little act of altruism had its reward, for although it was a
discomfort to have my wrist tied up in this way, the bundle afforded a
most grateful shade, while its weight was inconsiderable.
Our caravan travelled at a steady pace the greater part of the day,
two halts being made for rest and food, which latter consisted of a
miserably small allowance for each slave of a kind of porridge and
some white beans plainly boiled; and as I finished my meagre ration,
which barely took the edge off my hunger, I thought regretfully of the
grass-cutters on the hillside and even of the affaní.
We halted for the night a little before sunset, and while some of the
Hausas erected huts for the night and others attended to the cooking,
Maháma and his gang prepared the slaves for their bivouac. The
preparations were of the simplest. Each slave, having been relieved of
his burden, if he carried one, was fitted with a pair of handcuffs or
fetters, and his ankles were hobbled either with iron fetters, similar
to the “bilboes” used on board ship, or with a grass rope substitute,
and he was then allowed to scratch a hollow in the ground to receive
his hip bone and go to sleep. In my own case, both the wrist fetters
and those on the ankles were of grass rope, for the reason, as I
supposed, that the iron fetters were all in use.
In spite of the fatigues of the day and the disturbed night that had
preceded it, I did not go to sleep for some time. I was free from the
galling annoyance of the iron collar that the other slaves wore, for
the halter was still on my neck; but even this was an unaccustomed
discomfort, and helped to keep me awake, and I lay for a couple of
hours dreamily looking on at the slave dealers as they sat round the
fire, eating, talking, and laughing over one another’s jests and
stories, until one by one they disappeared. There seemed to be little,
if any, watch kept; but, as the slaves had not been released from the
rope, and as this was securely pegged down at intervals, the captives
were pretty secure.
At length, when the camp was quiet except for the droning hum of the
sleeping multitude, I huddled myself up in as comfortable an attitude
as was possible, and very soon followed the example of my companions
in misfortune.