AMONG THE NATIVES.
When I awoke the sun was shining, and I heard voices near me. Looking up
cautiously I saw that a number of young women and girls had come to the
river-side to fill their water-pots, and were playing and laughing as
they did so. I, without thinking, arose and called out, when they
instantly dropped their pots, and giving a cry of alarm, scuttled off
into the bushes.
I looked round and saw that along the way they had gone there was a
small foot-track. I followed it up, and soon some of the fugitives
turned round, and, seeing that I was alone and unarmed, began to come
towards me. Presently one bolder than the rest came and touched me and
called out something to her companions which was received with a shriek
of laughter. They all came crowding round me, showing signs of
astonishment at my hair and at my skin, which, after my prolonged
immersion, was now almost restored to its natural colour.
They chattered away, and evidently asked me many questions, which, as I
did not understand a word of their language, I was unable to answer.
Finding they could learn nothing from me, two of them ran up the path,
while the rest sat down round me and signed to me to do the same.
After we had been waiting ten minutes the two girls who had gone away
returned, accompanied by four men, two of whom were armed with ancient
flint-lock muskets and two with long spears, who made me get up, and
tying a rope round my neck led me up into the centre of a large village.
The village was surrounded with a heavy stockade of tree trunks, inside
of which were numerous enclosures of canes surrounding groups of huts,
while in the centre, under the shade of a splendid silk-cotton tree, was
a shed where four big drums surrounded a large and roughly carved image.
To this shed I was led by my guards; and being made to sit on the ground
with my legs on either side of one of the posts that supported the roof,
my ankles were lashed together, and my hands being tied behind my back,
I was secured so that there was no possibility of escape.
The whole population of the village turned out to look at me, and some
of the children, little fat black imps, who at first were much afraid of
the white man, losing their fear when they saw I was not able to move,
came up and poked their fingers into my eyes and pulled my hair, at
which they were much amused, and rubbed my skin to see if white was my
real colour
[Illustration: HARARU’S VILLAGE.
_Page 108._]
or not, while their elders laughed at them and at my ineffectual
attempts to avoid their familiarities.
I may have been sitting like this for about an hour, when the drums
round the image were beaten, and a very old white-haired negro came and
sat down on a stool close by me, attended by other old men, who were
evidently regarded with much veneration by the people.
When he had seated himself the drums ceased, and the girls who had found
me by the river-side were called up and evidently examined about me, and
then the four men who had brought me to the village had in their turn to
be interrogated as to their share in the transaction. After this was
completed the old man, whose face was most marvellously wrinkled,
consulted for some time with the other elders, and gave some orders,
which resulted in the appearance on the scene of a man whose face was
masked. This individual bore in one hand a huge knife, and was followed
by a woman carrying a large wooden bowl, who squatted down on the ground
in front of me, while the man went through an expressive pantomime,
intended to intimate that he was about to cut off my head.
I felt even more lost than when I was swimming in the river and thought
the canoe was an alligator. I determined, however, not to show any sign
of fear, but if I were to be killed, to die in a manner worthy of my
English blood. The old man now commenced a long speech, in which I
several times heard the name of Okopa mentioned; and when he had
finished he turned toward me and said something in broken Spanish, in
which all that I could make out were the words “Okopa,” “capitano,” and
“esclavos.”
I broke out at last and said, “I’m no Spaniard, and can’t understand a
word you’re saying. I’m English.”
Instantly there was a change among the people, and the man who was about
to be my executioner cut the lashings which secured me, and the old man
said, “Inglish bery good, Spagnole bery bad. You be Inglish?”
“Yes,” I said, “I’m English, and have been prisoner to the Spaniards.”
“Bery long time,” said the old man, “Hararu make war with Okopa father,
and Hararu wife he kill, he picaninny kill. Okopa make slave and sell to
Spagnole. Got long time in one Spagnole canoe. Inglish catch Spagnole,
and Hararu come back to he country. All Inglish good for Hararu.”
I was now led away into an enclosure in which Hararu and his family
lived, and taken into a hut, where a large chest was opened, and Hararu
said, “Plenty clothes lib dere; Inglishman take what he want.” I wanted
to thank him, but he said, “No good, for Inglishman go all same black
man. One time catch clothes, make chop; s’pose chop finished, den make
palaver.”
I looked in the chest, which was full of all kinds of clothes and pieces
of silk and calico, and after some searching found a shirt, jacket, and
trousers which fitted me fairly well, and I put them on. Then Hararu
said, “Want hat; hat lib,” and going to another box brought out an old
naval officer’s cap, which he gave to me.
When I was dressed he took me into another hut, where I was provided
with a dish of some sort of stew (which was very good, except that it
was made so hot with peppers that I could hardly eat), some bananas, and
a large gourd full of palm wine.
I ate and drank, old Hararu keeping on pressing me to eat more; but I
was so anxious to know what the happy change in my treatment was due to
that I soon finished, and said to Hararu, who had refused to answer any
questions until I was satisfied, that I could eat no more.
Hararu then said: “See, massa, me one time slave for Spagnole. He plenty
bad--he flog, he burn, he be all same one bad tief. One time one
Englishman he catch Spagnole and take Hararu Sa Leone, where Hararu him
call Jack Sprat. Bery good name Jack Sprat--he be English name. Den one
English trader come here dis river Ogowai, and me come too. One time
here me sabey my fader, my broder, my sister--dey all lib--and den
Englishman he gibs me gun, cloth, rum, plenty ting, and me stop here, be
one big man. Okopa he be one big tief, but him plenty strong, plenty
gun, plenty ting he catch from Spagnole. He sell plenty nigger.”
I explained to Hararu, or Jack Sprat, as he wished me to call him, all
that had happened to me since I was capsized in the surf at Whydah, and
how I had escaped from the _Santa Maria_, and seen my father’s brig
leave the river.
The old man said, “Dat be so: him Spagnole bad man, Okopa bad man; dey
try tief fader ship. Now dey be mad, and s’pose dey hear you lib here
dey send catch you and cut troat one time. Big blaggard Okopa.”
I did not remind my new friend that while he thought I was a Spaniard he
had been ready enough to cut my throat, but said, “You will not give me
to them?”
“No, me no gib you to Okopa; but s’pose Okopa come, Spagnole come plenty
gun, what can do, s’pose you lib in town? No plenty people talk say
white man lib for my town, and den people come look and say Hararu white
man he be Inglish all same Hararu, and den Okopa come and dat man you
call Camacho, and dat oder bad man Pentlea, and catch you one time.
S’pose now one time you go in bush to big fetichman and lib dere. My
son, me call him Tom, and he peak English, no all proper same me; he
take you away to oder country, and den dey send you where English ship
he come, and den you go see your fader and broder.”
The whole of this conversation had taken place inside Jack Sprat’s own
hut, and no one had been present but some of his womankind, and these he
now sent away. His boy Tom, as he called him, who proved to be a
grizzled negro of about fifty years of age, was sent for, and his
father gave him a long series of instructions in the native language, to
which Tom answered, “Bery good, bery good.”
When these were finished the old man said, “Now you go one time along
with Tom, and me tell all people big fetich come take you away what time
you sleep.”
I thanked old Jack Sprat for his kindness, and asked him if he could not
manage to get me a pair of shoes, as I was afraid my feet would get hurt
walking about on shore without them. He told me he would do what he
could, but I must now get away at once.
Tom opened a sort of secret door in the side of the hut, and beckoning
me to follow him, led the way along a very narrow passage between two
lines of cane fence to the outer stockade of the village. Here removing
a great log, which taxed all his strength, he was able to swing two of
the trunks that formed the palisade on one side. We then scrambled down
in the ditch and struck at once into a small and little frequented path,
which we followed for about an hour and a half, till at last it seemed
to lose itself in the thick and dense jungle.
From time to time Tom said to me, “Bery good, bery good,” as if to
encourage me, and to all my questions he only answered, “Bery good,” so
that I thought that these two words formed his whole stock of English.
When he said “Bery good” once more, I thought that it was anything but
“bery good,” for it seemed to me as if we had entirely lost our way. Tom
now lifted up his voice and gave a series of most appalling yells,
which after a little were answered by similar ones proceeding from what
seemed to me the thickest part of the surrounding jungle. After a few
minutes a mass of creepers hanging from one of the trees was pulled on
one side, and a man appeared.
Tom went down on his knees before the new-comer, and picking up dust
from the ground rubbed his arms and forehead with it; then getting up he
spoke long and quickly, occasionally pointing to me. I could distinguish
the words “Ingliz,” “Spagnole,” “Okopa,” and “Hararu” constantly
repeated. The man answered him in a similar manner, and then signing to
Tom and me to follow him, pulled the screen of creepers on one side and
led the way along a very narrow and winding path, which every here and
there had logs laid ready for blocking it.
After following our guide for ten minutes, Tom keeping on saying “Bery
good,” we arrived at a strong sort of gate in a fence of tree trunks,
which we passed through. We then found ourselves in a clear space, where
there were about a dozen idols like the one I had seen in the village,
each under its own little shed, and some half-dozen huts, in which the
fetichmen (of whom our guide was one) who attended on them lived. In the
centre was another stockade, inside which was a very large hut, and Tom,
pointing to it, said, “Big fetich,” thus showing that he did know more
English than “bery good.”
[Illustration: THROUGH THE JUNGLE.
_Page 115._]
One of the huts was at once made over to Tom and me. He made signs we
were to remain there till night came, which he intimated by lying down
and pretending to go to sleep, and he said, “Fader come.” I found the
hut very clean and comfortable, and there being a bed-place made of
canes, I, thoroughly tired and worn out, threw myself on it, and was
soon sound asleep.