Captain Ledoux was a born sailor. He had started at the bottom and
worked his way up to the rank of assistant quarter-master. At the battle
of Trafalgar his left hand was so severely damaged by splinters of wood
that he had to have it amputated, and, consequently, he received his
discharge, together with first-rate testimonials. The quiet monotony of
home life was distasteful to him, and, when he was offered the post of
second lieutenant on board a corsair, he eagerly seized the opportunity
of going to sea again. The money which came to him as his share of a few
captures enabled him to buy books and to study the theory of navigation
as a supplement to the practical knowledge he already possessed. In due
time he became captain of a pirate lugger which could boast of three
guns and a crew of sixty dauntless sailors: the longshoremen of Jersey
still remember the exploits of this pirate lugger. Then came the peace,
which was a great grief to him; he had amassed a considerable amount of
money during the war and had looked forward to increase his little
fortune at the expense of the English. But he was obliged to offer his
services to peaceful merchants; and, as he was known to be a man of
courage and experience, he had no difficulty in finding a ship. When
slave trading was prohibited by law it could not be undertaken without
running great risks, for it was necessary not only to evade the
watchfulness of the French Customs officers (which was not so very
difficult), but also to escape being captured by English cruisers.
Captain Ledoux proved invaluable to these "ebony"[1] merchants.
Unlike the majority of sailors who spend many years in subordinate
positions, Captain Ledoux had not that deep-rooted dread of innovation,
nor that innate feeling of routine, which even their elevation to higher
rank is seldom able to expunge. On the contrary, he was the first to
suggest to his shipbuilder the use of metal tanks for holding fresh
water. He had the handcuffs, too, and the chains--indispensable articles
on board such vessels--made in a particular fashion and carefully
varnished to prevent their rusting. But that for which he was well known
to all the slave traders was the brig he had constructed under his
personal supervision and according to his own ideas. He had christened
her _Hope_. Built for slave trading, she was a fast sailer, narrow and
long like a war-ship, and yet able to hold a great number of blacks. He
had had the 'tween decks made narrower and less lofty; had reduced the
height to forty inches, declaring that that left sufficient room for any
nigger of reasonable stature to sit at ease--why should they want to
stand up? There would be more than enough standing for them when they
reached the colonies, he explained.
The slaves would sit with their backs against the sides of the ship in
two parallel lines, leaving a free space between their feet which, in
all other slave ships, was only used as a gangway. It was Ledoux's idea
to make use of this free space by putting more slaves there, forcing
them to sit at right angles to the others. In this way his brig would
hold at least ten slaves more than any other ship of the same size. In
case of need, more still could have been put on board, but he was
considerate enough to insist that each nigger should have a space
measuring about five foot by two in which to stretch his limbs during
the six weeks' journey. For, after all, niggers were human beings like
the white men, he explained to the shipwright, as an excuse for his
generous treatment.
The _Hope_ weighed anchor in the port of Nantes on a Friday--a fact
which superstitious people subsequently recalled. The Customs officers
who visited the brig for the purpose of inspecting everything on board
did not come across six large cases full of chains, handcuffs, and those
irons which were for some unknown reason called "bonds of justice." The
very considerable supply of fresh water which had been stowed on board
did not seem to astonish them, in spite of the fact that the _Hope_
(according to her bills) was only going to Senegambia for the purpose of
trading in wood and ivory. The journey was certainly not a long one, but
perhaps they thought there was no harm in erring on the safe side--for
the water would be invaluable if they happened to be becalmed.
So the good ship _Hope_ set sail on a Friday, thoroughly well
provisioned and equipped. Ledoux fancied at first that the masts seemed
hardly stout enough; but in the course of time he found that the vessel
fulfilled his expectations in every way. They had a first-rate journey,
and the coast of Africa was soon sighted. The anchor was lowered at Joal
(if I mistake not), that portion of the coast being at the time
unguarded by English cruisers; and the native merchants immediately came
on board.
The moment could not have been more favourable. Tamango, a well-known
warrior and slave dealer, had just reached the coast with a convoy of
slaves, which he was selling at cheap rates with the confidence of a man
who feels that he has the power of meeting any demands as soon as the
article of his trade becomes scarcer.
Captain Ledoux landed at the mouth of the river and called on Tamango.
He found him sitting in a straw hut, which had been hastily erected for
him, together with his two wives, a few petty traders, and the slave
drivers. Tamango had felt bound to put some clothes on to receive the
white captain. The old blue uniform which he wore could still be
recognised as having been a corporal's, but there were two gold
epaulettes on each shoulder, both fastened to the same button and
hanging down, one behind, the other in front. As he did not wear a
shirt, and the tunic was too small for a man of his stature, a broad
zone of black skin was visible between the white facings of the uniform
and the canvas breeches. It looked like a belt. A heavy cavalry sword
which hung at his side was fastened by a string, and a fine
double-barrelled English rifle completed the outfit in which the
African warrior doubtless considered himself more than a match for the
most exquisite dandy from London or Paris.
Captain Ledoux stared at him for some time in silence, and Tamango,
flattered by the belief that he was making a great impression on the
white man, drew himself up like a grenadier being inspected by a strange
general. Ledoux, after having critically examined him, turned to his
chief officer and observed, "There's a piece of brawn which would fetch
at least a thousand crowns if we could only land him safe and sound in
Martinique."
As soon as they had sat down the customary greetings were exchanged, a
sailor who had a smattering of the _Volof_ language acting as
interpreter. A basket full of bottles of brandy was brought, drinking
began at once, and the captain thought to propitiate Tamango by making
him a present of a fine copper powder-flask with a portrait of Napoleon
embossed on it. The gift was acknowledged with the conventional show of
gratitude. Tamango then suggested that they should go and sit outside in
the shade (not forgetting the brandy bottle) and inspect the slaves he
had to sell.
They came forward in a long file, worn out by fear and fatigue, all
bearing on their shoulders a huge fork over two yards long, the two
prongs of which were fastened at the back of the neck with a wooden bar.
Whenever they set out on a march one of the slave drivers bears on his
shoulder the handle of the yoke of the first slave, who carries that of
the man behind him; the second slave carries the yoke-handle of the
third slave, and so on with the others. When a halt is made, the leader
of the file drives the pointed end of his yoke-handle into the ground
and the whole column comes to a stand-still. Of course, there can be no
question of escape from the file with a heavy yoke two yards long
fastened round one's neck.
The captain shrugged his shoulders as each slave, male or female, passed
before him; he called them puny creatures, said that the females were
too old or too young, and complained of the degeneracy of the black
race.
"The whole race is deteriorating," he declared. "It used to be quite
different in the olden days when every woman was five foot six, and four
men could easily have worked a frigate's capstan and raised the sheet
anchor."
However, he critically picked out a first assortment of blacks, choosing
the strong and the good-looking, for which he was willing to pay the
usual price; on the remainder he demanded a considerable reduction. But
Tamango knew his own mind; he insisted that his wares were valuable, and
spoke of the scarcity of men and the dangers of the traffic. He ended by
quoting the very lowest price he could possibly accept for the slaves
the white captain still had room for on board.
Ledoux stared at him in amazement and indignation when he heard
Tamango's proposal interpreted. The captain got up, swearing like a
trooper, apparently with the intention of putting an end there and then
to all bargaining with a man so unreasonable. But Tamango, after some
difficulty, persuaded him to sit down. Another bottle was opened and
the discussion renewed. Now it was the black man's turn to call the
white captain's views outrageous and extravagant. They talked and
haggled as bottle after bottle was emptied; but the liquor was having
quite a different effect on the two contracting parties. The more the
Frenchman drank the less became his offers, and the more the nigger
drank the less he insisted on his demands. So, when the case of brandy
was finished, it was found that they had come to terms. In exchange for
the hundred and sixty slaves, Tamango accepted a quantity of worthless
cotton, powder, gun-flints, three casks of brandy, and fifty rusty
rifles. The captain, to ratify the compact, shook the half-tipsy nigger
by the hand, and immediately the slaves were handed over to the French
sailors, who lost no time in putting on iron chains and handcuffs in
place of the wooden yokes--a striking demonstration of the superiority
of European civilisation.
There were still about thirty slaves--children, old men, or infirm
women. But there was no more room on board. Tamango, not knowing what to
do with this refuse, offered to sell them to the captain at the rate of
a bottle of brandy a head. The offer was a tempting one. Ledoux
remembered a performance of the _Sicilian Vespers_, at Nantes, at which
he had noticed that a considerable number of sturdy and well-furnished
people had managed to push their way into the pit which was already
full, and ultimately find seats, thanks to the compressibility of human
bodies. He agreed to take the twenty slimmest of the thirty slaves.
Tamango then offered to dispose of the ten remaining for a glass of
brandy a head. The fact that children go half-price and take up
half-room in railway carriages crossed the captain's mind. So he
accepted three children, but said he would not take one more. Tamango,
seeing himself left still with seven slaves on his hands, seized his
rifle and took aim at the nearest woman. She was the mother of the three
children.
"Buy her," he said to the white man, "or I'll fire. Half a glass of
brandy, or she dies."
"But what the deuce am I to do with her?" asked Ledoux.
Tamango fired, and the slave fell down dead.
"Now for another!" cried Tamango, taking aim at a decrepit old man. "A
glass of brandy, or----"
The bullet went off at random, for one of his wives had suddenly seized
his arm. She had happened to recognise in the old man whom her husband
was about to kill a _guiriot_, or magician, who had prophesied that she
would be queen.
Tamango, excited by all the brandy he had consumed, lost control of
himself when he found himself thus thwarted. He struck his wife roughly
with the butt end of his gun, and turned towards the captain.
"Take her," he said; "I'll make you a present of this woman."
"I shall be able to find room for you," said Ledoux, as he took her by
the hand, and he smiled when he saw how beautiful she was.
The interpreter--a charitable man--asked Tamango for the remaining six
slaves in exchange for a cardboard snuff-box. He took off their yokes
and told them to go whither they would. They hurried away in different
directions, at a loss to know how to reach their homes, two hundred
leagues from the coast.
In the meantime the captain had said good-bye to Tamango and was hard at
work getting his cargo on board. He did not think it safe to remain
longer in the river, for fear of the cruisers which might return at any
moment. So he made up his mind to set sail on the morrow. Tamango could
not do anything but lie down on the grass in the shade, and sleep away
the effects of the brandy.
When he woke up the vessel was already under sail, and moving down the
river. Tamango, still very dizzy from the effects of his recent debauch,
called for his wife Ayché. He was reminded that she had been unfortunate
enough to displease him, and that he had made a present of her to the
white captain who had taken her away on board with him. Half stupefied
at this news, Tamango clasped his head in his hands; then, seizing his
gun, he rushed away by the most direct route towards a little creek
about half a mile from the sea. He knew the river made several detours
before it reached the sea, and, by means of a small boat which ought to
be there, he hoped to overtake the brig, delayed in her voyage, as she
would be, by the winding river. He was not deceived; he leaped into the
boat and just managed to reach the slave ship in time.
Ledoux was surprised to see him; still more so to learn that he wanted
his wife back.
"You gave her to me," he said, "and I have no intention of giving you
back your present," and he turned and left him.
But the black insisted, said he would give back some of the goods he had
received in exchange for the slaves. The captain laughed, and told him
that Ayché was a fine woman and that he intended to keep her. Poor
Tamango burst into a torrent of tears, and groaned and cried like a man
being tortured by a surgeon. He flung himself about the deck calling for
his darling Ayché, and dashed his head against the planks as though he
were trying to commit suicide. The captain, quite unmoved, pointed to
the shore, and suggested that it was time for him to go. But Tamango
held to his point. He went to the length of offering his golden
epaulettes, his sword, his rifle. All in vain.
Meantime the lieutenant of the _Hope_ suggested to the captain, "Why not
take this lusty brute in place of the three slaves who died during the
night; he is worth more than they."
Ledoux looked at him. Yes. He was worth at least a thousand crowns.
Besides, this journey, which promised to be exceptionally remunerative,
would probably be his last; his fortune would be made, and he would give
up the slave trade. If so, what did it matter what sort of a reputation
he left behind on the coast of Guinea? There was not a soul in sight on
the shore, and the black chieftain was entirely at his mercy. It would
only be a matter of disarming him, for it would hardly be safe to lay
hands on him while he still had arms in his possession. So Ledoux asked
him for his gun, as if he wished to examine it to see whether it was
really worth exchanging for the beautiful negress. Whilst he was
scrutinising it, he took care to jerk the charge out. The lieutenant
succeeded in obtaining his sword, and Tamango stood disarmed. Two sturdy
sailors sprang on him, brought him to the ground, and tried to bind him.
But the black man struggled heroically as soon as he recovered from the
surprise, and he fought for long with the two sailors in spite of the
disadvantage at which they had him. By sheer strength he sprang to his
feet, and with one blow he felled the man who held him by the neck.
Leaving half his coat in the hands of the other sailor, he dashed
furiously towards the lieutenant to regain his sword, and received a cut
on the head which, without going deep, made a large wound. He fell a
second time, and the sailors soon bound him hand and foot. He yelled
with rage and struggled and writhed like a wild boar caught in a net;
after a while, seeing that all resistance was useless, he shut his eyes
and remained absolutely motionless. Had it not been for his heavy and
hurried breathing, one might have thought him dead.
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the captain, "won't these slaves he sold to
us chuckle heartily when they see him a slave like them! They will begin
to think there must be such a thing as Providence."
Meanwhile poor Tamango was bleeding fast. The charitable interpreter,
who, the day before, had saved the lives of the six slaves, came to bind
up his wound and speak a few words of sympathy with him. No record
exists of what he said, and Tamango remained as motionless as a corpse.
Two sailors carried him like a package down to his allotted place in the
'tween decks. For two days he refused to touch anything to eat or
drink, and he scarcely opened his eyes. His companions in captivity,
once his prisoners, had watched him brought into their midst with
terror-stricken amazement. So great was the awe with which his mere
presence still inspired them that not one of them durst jeer at the
misery of the man who was the cause of all their suffering.
Sailing rapidly on the wings of a strong land breeze, the vessel was
soon out of sight of the coast of Africa. The captain's mind, no longer
haunted with visions of English cruisers, began to dwell on the
prospective fortune he hoped to reap in the colonies towards which he
was sailing. His cargo of "ebony" was in good health. There were no
contagious diseases. Only twelve negroes had died of suffocation, and
they were the weakest--a mere trifle. But in order to preserve his human
cargo as much as possible from the effects of the passage he had them
brought up on deck once a day. Three successive batches of these unhappy
slaves came up to inhale, for one hour each batch, the stock of fresh
air which was to last through the twenty-four hours. A portion of the
crew mounted guard, armed to the teeth for fear of insurrection; but
they took care that the slaves were never entirely freed from their
shackles. Sometimes a sailor who could play the violin would treat them
to some music, and it was curious to watch all those black faces gazing
up at the fiddler, gradually losing their look of abject despair, and
then breaking forth into loud laughter--clapping their hands too, as
much as their chains would allow them. Exercise being essential to
health, one of Captain Ledoux's salutary regulations was that all the
slaves should be made to dance, just as horses are made to prance when
embarked on a long journey.
"Come along, my boys, dance and amuse yourselves!" the captain would
shout in a voice of thunder, cracking his heavy slave-whip. In less than
no time the poor blacks were leaping and dancing.
For some time Tamango's wound kept him below the hatches. But at length
he appeared on deck; at first he stood in the midst of the crowd of
cringing slaves, holding his proud head very high, and his sad but
untroubled eyes gazed over the wide expanse of ocean which surrounded
the ship; then he lay down, or rather threw himself down on deck,
without even troubling to shift his chains into a less awkward position.
Ledoux was sitting behind him on the quarter-deck, smoking his pipe at
ease. Near him stood Ayché, holding in her hand a tray of liquors which
she was ready to pour out for him. Instead of shackles she wore a pretty
blue cotton dress and dainty morocco shoes, which clearly showed that
she occupied a position of honour in the captain's domestic circle. One
of the black men who loathed Tamango pointed her out to him. As soon as
he caught sight of her he cried out, and, springing up impetuously,
reached the quarter-deck before the sailors on guard could prevent such
a flagrant breach of naval discipline.
"Ayché!" he shouted at the top of his voice--and Ayché shrieked as he
added, "do you imagine that there is no MAMA JUMBO in the land of the
white man?"
The sailors rushed to his side with uplifted clubs, but he calmly folded
his arms and walked slowly back to his place, whilst Ayché burst into a
flood of tears, and seemed appalled at his mysterious question.
The interpreter explained what the awful Mama Jumbo was, the very
mention of which had roused such terror.
"It is the bogey of the black men," he said. "When a husband is afraid
his wife is going to behave as some wives do, as well in France as
Africa, he threatens her with Mama Jumbo. I have seen Mama Jumbo with my
own eyes, and I understand the trick; but the poor blacks ... they are
so unsophisticated they do not understand anything. Picture to yourself
a group of women dancing in an evening--having a _folgar_, as they call
it in their dialect--near a thick and sombre grove. Suddenly weird music
is heard. Not a soul is to be seen, for all the musicians are hidden
amongst the trees. The sounds of the reed flutes, wooden drums,
_balafos_, and guitars made of the half of a gourd make a melody
calculated to produce the devil himself. No sooner do the women hear the
music than they begin to tremble and would run away if their husbands
would let them; they know too well what is going to happen. Suddenly a
huge white figure as tall as our top-gallant-mast comes stalking out of
the wood, with a head as big as a pumpkin, eyes like hawse-holes, and a
mouth like the devil's, full of fire. It moves slowly, very slowly, and
does not come more than half a cable's length away from the grove. The
women shriek and yell like costermongers. It is 'Mama Jumbo.' And then
their husbands tell them to confess their sins, for if they do not speak
the Mama Jumbo is there to gobble them up alive. Some of the women are
foolish enough to acknowledge everything, and their husbands proceed to
give them a sound thrashing."
"But what is the white figure, this Mama Jumbo?" asked the captain.
"Why, it's only some Merry Andrew, muffled up in a white sheet, holding
up on the end of a stick a hollow gourd, with a lighted candle inside,
that serves as a head. It is nothing worse than that, for it does not
require much ingenuity to deceive these poor blacks. But, when all's
said and done, it's not such a bad invention, this Mama Jumbo of theirs;
I wish my wife believed in it."
"If my wife knows nothing of Mistress Jumbo," said Ledoux, "she has met
with Master Stick, and she knows well enough what the result would be if
she played any pranks with me. We are not a long-suffering family, we
Ledoux, and though I have only one fist left it can still use a
rope's-end to some purpose. As to that joker who started the subject of
Mama Jumbo, tell him to keep still, and that if he frightens this little
woman again I'll have him flogged till his skin changes from black to
the colour of an underdone beefsteak."
The captain led Ayché down to his room and tried to comfort her, but
neither his caresses nor his blows (there was a limit even to the
captain's patience) succeeded in pacifying the beautiful negress; her
tears flowed in torrents. Ledoux went up on deck in a bad humour and
vented his feelings on the officer on duty concerning the first thing
that came uppermost.
During the night, when nearly everyone on board was sound asleep and the
men on watch were listening to a low, sad, monotonous chant, which
seemed to come from the 'tween decks, they heard the shrill, piercing
shriek of a woman. Then they heard Ledoux's fierce voice swearing and
threatening, and the sound of his heavy whip echoed through the whole
vessel. Then the noise ceased, and all was silent. On the morrow Tamango
came on deck, his face disfigured, but still as proud and undaunted as
ever.
As soon as Ayché caught sight of him she rushed from the quarter-deck,
where she had been sitting by the side of the captain, and fell on her
knees before Tamango, exclaiming in a frenzy of despair--
"Forgive me, Tamango, forgive me!"
Tamango looked steadily into her eyes for a minute, and then, seeing
that the interpreter was not within earshot, he ejaculated "A file!"
and, turning his back upon her, lay down on the deck. The captain chid
her savagely, even struck her once or twice, and enjoined her never
again to speak to her ex-husband. But he had not the least inkling of
the meaning of the few words they had exchanged, and he did not ask any
questions about them.
Tamango meanwhile, locked up with the other slaves, continually exhorted
them to make one great effort to regain their liberty. He spoke to them
of the small number of the white men, and called their attention to the
increasing carelessness of their guards; and, without going into
details, he promised them that he would find some way of leading them
back to their country. He boasted of his knowledge of the occult
sciences, for which the black races have great veneration, and declared
that any who refused to assist in the attempt would incur the wrath of
the devil. All these harangues were delivered in the dialect of the
Peules, which was known to most of the slaves, but which the interpreter
did not understand. Such was the credit of the dreaded orator, and so
inveterate was their habit of obeying him, that his eloquence worked
wonders, and he was begged to fix a day for their emancipation long
before he had even had time to work out all his plans. So he told the
conspirators vaguely that the time was not yet come, and that the devil,
who appeared to him at night, had not yet given the word; but he bade
them hold themselves in readiness for the first signal. In the meantime
he did not lose any opportunity of testing the vigilance of the crew.
One day he saw a sailor leaning over the side of the vessel watching a
shoal of flying-fish which were following the ship. Tamango took the
rifle which had been left standing against the gunwale, and began to
handle it, mimicing grotesquely the exercises he had seen the sailors
do. The rifle was immediately taken from him, but he had learnt that it
was possible to touch a weapon without at once arousing suspicion. When
the time came for him to use one in earnest, woe betide the man who
tried then to wrest it from him!
One morning Ayché threw him a biscuit, making at the same time a sign
which he alone understood. The biscuit contained a small file, and on
that tool hung the success of the plot. Tamango took good care not to
let his companions see the file; but, when night had fallen, he began to
utter unintelligible sounds, accompanied by weird gestures. Gradually he
became more and more excited, and the mutterings increased to loud
groans. As they listened to the varied intonations of his voice, the
slaves felt convinced that he was engaged in an animated conversation
with an unseen person. They were all terrified, not doubting that the
devil was at that moment in their midst. Tamango put the finishing touch
to the scene by exclaiming joyfully--
"Comrades! the spirit which I have conjured has at length fulfilled his
promises, and I hold in my hand the talisman which is to save us. Now
you only need to summon up a little courage, and you are free men."
Those near him were allowed to feel the file, and not one of them was
sharp enough to suspect that the whole thing was a gross imposture.
At length, after many days of expectation, the great day of liberty and
vengeance dawned. The conspirators had been sworn to secrecy by a solemn
oath, and the arrangements had been settled after much deliberation. The
strongest amongst those who happened to go on deck at the same time as
Tamango were to seize the arms of their guards, some of the others were
to go to the captain's room to fetch the arms which were kept there.
Those who had succeeded in filing through their handcuffs were to lead
the way; but in spite of several nights' persistent toil, the majority
of the slaves were still unable to take any active part in the attack.
So three lusty negroes were singled out to slay the man who kept in his
pocket the keys of the manacles, and to return at once and unfetter
their companions.
That day Captain Ledoux seemed in the best of tempers. Contrary to his
usual habits, he pardoned a cabin boy who had incurred a flogging. He
congratulated the officer of the watch on his seamanship, told the crew
he was pleased with their work and promised to give them all a gratuity
at Martinique, which they would reach very soon. All the sailors at once
began to amuse themselves by making plans as to how they would use the
gratuity. Their thoughts were of brandy and of the swart women of
Martinique, when Tamango and his fellow--conspirators were brought up on
deck.
They had been careful to file their handcuffs in such a way that nothing
was noticeable, but at the same time so that they could break them open
easily. Furthermore, they rattled their chains so much that morning,
that they seemed to be twice as heavily laden as usual. When they had
had time to drink in the air, they all joined hands and began to dance,
whilst Tamango intoned his tribal war song[2] which he always used
before going to battle. After they had danced for some time, Tamango, as
if tired out, stretched himself at full length near a sailor who was
leaning back at his ease against the ship's bulwarks; all the others
followed his example, so that every one of the guards was singled out by
the several negroes.
As soon as he had managed to remove his handcuffs quietly, Tamango gave
a tremendous shout, which was the signal, seized the sailor near him
violently by the legs, threw him head over heels, and, planting his foot
on his stomach, wrenched the gun away from him and shot the officer of
the watch. Simultaneously every other sailor on deck was seized,
disarmed, and forthwith strangled. From all sides came sounds of the
struggle. The boatswain's mate, who had the keys of the handcuffs, was
one of the first victims. In a moment the deck was swarming with a crowd
of niggers. Those who could not find arms seized the bars of the capstan
or the oars of the gig. The fate of the white men was already sealed; a
few sailors made a show of resistance on the quarter-deck, but they
lacked weapons and resolution. Ledoux, however, was still alive, and had
not lost any of his courage.
Seeing that Tamango was the soul of the revolt, he hoped that if he
could kill him short work might be made of his accomplices. So he sprang
forward, sword in hand, calling to him at the top of his voice. Tamango
lost no time in rushing to the encounter. The two commanders met in one
of the gangways--one of those narrow passages leading aft from the
quarter-deck. Tamango, holding his gun by the barrel, and using it as a
club, was the first to strike. The white man dexterously avoided the
blow: the butt end of the musket, falling violently on the planks, was
smashed, and the weapon was dashed out of Tamango's hand. He stood
defenceless, and Ledoux advanced with a diabolical grin. But before he
had time to make use of his sword, Tamango, as agile as the panthers of
his native country, sprang into his adversary's arms and seized the hand
which held the sword. The one strained to hold the sword, the other to
wrench it from him. During this desperate struggle both stumbled, but
the black man fell undermost. Without a moment's hesitation Tamango
hugged his adversary with all his strength, and bit his neck with such
vehemence that the blood spurted out as it does under the teeth of a
lion. The sword slipped from the weakened hand of the captain. Tamango
seized it, sprang up, and, his mouth streaming with blood, yelled his
triumph as he stabbed his dying enemy through and through.
The victory was complete. The few remaining sailors entreated the
negroes to have pity on them, but all, even the interpreter who had
never done them any harm, were mercilessly massacred. The lieutenant
fell fighting heroically. He had withdrawn aft, behind one of those
small cannons which turn on a pivot, and are loaded with grape-shot.
With his left hand he worked the gun and with his right he used the
sword so dexterously that he attracted a crowd of negroes round him.
Then he fired the gun into their midst and paved a way with dead and
dying. The next moment he was torn to pieces.
When the body of the last white man had been hacked to pieces and thrown
overboard the negroes began to feel that their thirst for vengeance was
satiated, and they gazed up at the ship's sails which were swollen by
the fresh breeze, and seemed still to obey their oppressors and to carry
the conquerors in spite of their triumph to the land of slavery.
"All our labour is lost!" they murmured in their despair. "Will the
great fetish of the white men lead us back to our homes now that we have
shed the blood of so many of his worshippers?"
Someone suggested that Tamango might be able to make the fetish obey. So
they all began to shout for Tamango.
He was in no hurry to hear them. They found him standing in the fore
cabin, one hand resting on the captain's bloody sword, the other
stretched out to his wife Ayché, who was on her knees kissing it. But
the joy of victory could not obliterate a strange look of anxiety which
was visible in every line of his face. Less fatuous than the rest, he
was better able to understand the difficulties of the situation.
At last he came upon deck, affecting a serenity which he did not feel.
Urged by a hundred confused voices to change the course of the vessel,
he stalked slowly towards the helm as if to postpone for a while the
moment which would determine both for himself and for the others the
extent of his power.
Not even the dullest negro on board had failed to notice the influence
exercised on the movements of the ship by a certain wheel and the box
fixed in front of it; but the whole mechanism was a profound mystery to
them. Tamango examined the compass for some time, moving his lips as if
he were reading the characters which were printed on it; then he put his
hand to his head and assumed the pensive look of a man doing mental
arithmetic. All the negroes stood round him, their mouths wide open,
their eyes one stare, anxiously taking note of his slightest movement.
At length, with that mixture of fear and confidence which ignorance
inspires, he gave the guiding wheel a tremendous turn.
Like a noble steed which rears when some imprudent rider drives in his
spurs, the good ship _Hope_ plunged into the waves at this unwonted
handling, as if she felt insulted and wished to sink together with her
stupid pilot. The sails being now entirely at cross purposes with the
helm, the ship heeled over so suddenly that it looked as if she were
bound to founder. Her long yards soused into the sea; many of the
niggers stumbled and some fell overboard. However, the ship righted
herself and stood proudly against the swell, as if to make one last
effort to avoid destruction. But there came a sudden gust of wind, and,
with a deafening crash, the two masts fell, snapped a few feet above the
deck, which was strewn with wreckage and covered with a tangled network
of ropes. The terrified negroes fled below the hatchway howling with
fear, but as there was nothing left to catch the breeze, the vessel
remained steady and merely rocked to and fro on the billows.
Presently the more daring amongst them came up again and began clearing
away the wreckage which encumbered the deck. Tamango remained
motionless, leaning on the binnacle, his face buried in his folded arms.
Ayché, who was beside him, did not dare to speak. One by one the negroes
approached him; they began to murmur, and soon a torrent of insults and
abuse was let loose upon him.
"Traitor! impostor!" they cried, "you are the cause of all our ills: you
sold us to the white men, you persuaded us to rebel, you boasted your
wisdom, you promised to take us back to our homes. We trusted you, fools
that we were! and now we have narrowly escaped destruction because you
have offended the white man's fetish."
Tamango raised his head proudly, and the negroes who stood round him
slunk back. He picked up two guns, beckoned to his wife to follow him,
and strode through the group of men, who made way for him. He went to
the bow of the vessel, where he constructed a kind of barricade of
planks and barrels; behind this entrenchment he fixed the two muskets in
such a way that the bayonets were menacingly prominent. There he sat
down and they left him alone.
Some of the negroes were in tears; others raised their hands to the sky,
and called on their own and the white man's fetishes; others knelt down
by the compass and wondered at its ceaseless movements, entreating it to
take them to their homes again; the remainder lay on the deck in a state
of abject despair. Amongst these wretches were women and children
shrieking from sheer terror, and a score of wounded men imploring the
relief which no one dreamt of bringing them.
All of a sudden a negro appeared on deck, his face beaming with joy. He
came to tell them that he had discovered where the white men stored
their brandy; and his excitement and general demeanour clearly showed
that he had already helped himself to some. This piece of news silenced
for a while the cries of the distracted slaves. They rushed down to the
steward's room and gorged the liquor. In about an hour's time they were
all dancing and roaring on deck, giving vent to the excesses of brutish
drunkenness. The noise of their singing and dancing mingled with the
groans and sobs of the wounded. Night fell, and still the orgy
continued.
Next morning, when they woke, despair again possessed them. During the
night a great number of the wounded had died. The vessel was surrounded
by floating corpses, and clouds were lowering over the heavy sea. They
held a conference. Several experts in the art of magic, who had not
dared speak of their knowledge before for fear of Tamango, now offered
their services, and several potent incantations were tried. The failure
of each attempt increased their despondency till at length they appealed
to Tamango, who was still behind his barricade. After all, he was the
wisest of them, and he alone could extricate them from the desperate
condition into which he had brought them. An old man approached him with
overtures of peace, and begged him to give them his advice. But Tamango,
as inexorable as Coriolanus, turned a deaf ear to his entreaties. During
the night, in the midst of the tumult, he had fetched a supply of
biscuits and salt meat. To all appearance he had no intention of
leaving the solitude of his retreat.
There was still plenty of brandy left. That, at all events, helped them
to forget the sea, slavery and the approach of death. They went to
sleep, and in their dreams saw Africa with its forests of gum trees, its
thatched huts, and its baobabs, whose foliage shaded whole villages. The
orgy of the day before was renewed, and continued for some time. They
did nothing but howl and weep and tear their hair, or drink and sleep.
Several died of drinking, others jumped into the sea or stabbed
themselves.
One morning Tamango left his fort and advanced to the stump of the
mainmast.
"Slaves!" he shouted, "the Spirit has appeared to me in a dream and
revealed to me the means of helping you to return to your homes. You
deserve to be abandoned to your fates, but I pity the women and children
who are crying. I pardon you. Listen!"
All the negroes bowed their their heads submissively, and gathered round
him.
"Only the white men," continued Tamango, "know the mystic formulas which
guide these massive wooden houses; but we can steer without difficulty
those small boats, which are like our own" (he pointed to the sloop and
the other ship's boats). "Let us fill them with provisions, set out in
them, and row in the direction of the wind. My Master and yours will
make it blow in the direction of our homes."
They took his word for it. No plan could have been more reckless.
Without any knowledge of the compass, ignorant as to their whereabouts,
they could not do anything but row at random. His belief was that by
rowing straight ahead they were certain to come, sooner or later, to a
land inhabited by black men; for he had heard his mother say that white
men lived in their ships, and that black men possessed the earth.
Soon afterwards everything was ready to be embarked, but only the sloop
and one small boat were found to be serviceable. It was impossible to
find room for the eighty negroes who were still alive, so the sick and
wounded had to be abandoned. The majority of them begged to be slain
rather than be left.
After endless difficulties the two boats were got under way, so heavily
laden that they might at any moment be swamped in such a choppy sea.
Tamango and Ayché were in the sloop, which was soon left behind by the
other boat--a mere cock-boat, and far less overcharged. The wailing of
the poor wretches who had been left behind on board the brig was still
audible when a big wave suddenly caught the sloop athwart and swamped
her. In less than a minute she had disappeared. The smaller boat saw the
catastrophe, and immediately the oars were plied with redoubled energy,
for fear of having to pick up those who were shipwrecked. Nearly all who
were in the sloop were drowned. Only a dozen or so managed to reach the
vessel again; amongst whom were Tamango and Ayché. When the sun set they
could see the other boat far away on the horizon; no one knows what
became of it.
Why should I weary the reader with a revolting description of the
tortures of famine? About a score of human beings, crowded together, now
tossed about on a stormy sea, now scorched by the fierce heat of the
sun, fought daily for what scanty remains of food there were--every
scrap of biscuit entailing a fight.... The weaker died, not because the
stronger killed him, but because he chose to let him expire. After a few
days only two were still alive on board the good brig _Hope_--Ayché and
Tamango.
One night the sea was rough, the wind blew high, and the darkness was so
intense that one end of the ship could not be seen from the other. Ayché
lay on a mattress in the captain's room and Tamango sat at her feet.
They had not spoken a word for many hours.
"Tamango," murmured Ayché at length, "it is I who have brought all this
suffering upon you."
"I do not suffer," he answered quickly, and threw the half-biscuit,
which he still had left, on the mattress beside her.
"Keep it yourself," she said gently, returning the biscuit. "I am no
longer hungry. Besides, why eat? Is not mine hour come?"
Tamango got tip without answering and staggered to the deck, where he
sat down against the stump of the mast. His head lolled on his breast,
and he began to whistle his tribal war song. Suddenly a loud cry reached
his ear in spite of the noise of the tempest; a light flashed; other
shouts followed, and a huge black ship glided swiftly past the brig--so
close that Tamango could see her yards pass over his head. He only saw
two faces in the light of a lantern which hung from a mast. They
shouted again; then their vessel, swept along by the storm, disappeared
into the darkness. Doubtless the men on watch had caught sight of the
disabled hulk, but the violence of the tempest had prevented their
tacking. The next moment Tamango saw the flash of a cannon and heard the
report; then another flash, but no report; then he saw nothing more. On
the morrow not a sail was visible on the horizon. Tamango threw himself
down on his mattress and closed his eyes. His wife Ayché had died that
night.
* * * * *
I do not know how long it was before an English frigate, the _Bellona_,
sighted a dismasted vessel, to all appearances abandoned by her crew.
They sent a sloop alongside and found a negress dead and a negro by her
side, so haggard and so thin that he looked like a skeleton. He was
unconscious, but there was still a breath left in him. The doctor took
charge of him and did all he could for him, so that when they reached
Kingston, Tamango had regained his health. He was asked to give an
account of his adventures, and he told them all he could remember. The
Jamaica planters suggested that he should be hung as a rebel, but the
governor was a kind-hearted man and took an interest in the negro, whose
crime was, after all, justifiable, since he had but acted in
self-defence; and, besides, the men he had murdered were only Frenchmen.
He was treated in the same way as the slaves who are found on board a
captured slave trader. They set him at liberty--that is to say they made
him work for the Government. And he earned threepence a day besides his
keep. One day the colonel of the 75th caught sight of this splendid
specimen of a man, and made him a drummer in his regimental band.
Tamango learnt a little English, but hardly ever spoke. To make up for
that he was always drinking rum or tafia. He died in the hospital of
congestion of the lungs.
1829.
[1] Slave dealers used to style themselves _ebony_ merchants.
[2] Each negro chief has his own.