Having started for the coast with a large gang of slaves a short time
before Marizano, as we have already said, and having left the Englishmen
to the care of the half-caste, chiefly because he did not desire their
company, although he had no objection to the ransom, Yoosoof proceeded
over the same track which we have already described in part, leaving a
bloody trail behind him.
It is a fearful track, of about 500 miles in length, that which lies
between the head of Lake Nyassa and the sea-coast at Kilwa. We have no
intention of dragging the reader over it to witness the cruelties and
murders that were perpetrated by the slavers, or the agonies endured by
the slaves. Livingstone speaks of it as a land of death, of desolation,
and dead men's bones. And no wonder, for it is one of the main arteries
through which the blood of Africa flows, like the water of natural
rivers, to the sea. The slave-gangs are perpetually passing eastward
through it--perpetually dropping four-fifths of their numbers on it as
they go. Dr Livingstone estimates that, in some cases, not more than
_one-tenth_ of the slaves captured reach the sea-coast alive. It is
therefore rather under than over-stating the case to say that out of
every hundred starting from the interior, _eighty_ perish on the road.
Yoosoof left with several thousands of strong and healthy men, women,
and children--most of them being children--he arrived at Kilwa with only
eight hundred. The rest had sunk by the way, either from exhaustion or
cruel treatment, or both. The loss was great; but as regards the trader
it could not be called severe, because the whole gang of slaves cost him
little--some of them even nothing!--and the remaining eight hundred
would fetch a good price. They were miserably thin, indeed, and
exhibited on their poor, worn, and travel-stained bodies the evidence of
many a cruel castigation; but Yoosoof knew that a little rest and good
feeding at Kilwa would restore them to some degree of marketable value,
and at Zanzibar he was pretty sure of obtaining, in round numbers, about
10 pounds a head for them, while in the Arabian and Persian ports he
could obtain much more, if he chose to pass beyond the treaty-protected
water at Lamoo, and run the risk of being captured by British cruisers.
It is "piracy" to carry slaves north of Lamoo. South of that point for
hundreds of miles, robbery, rapine, murder, cruelty, such as devils
could not excel if they were to try, is a "domestic institution" with
which Britons are pledged not to interfere!
Since the above was written Sir Bartle Frere has returned from his
mission, and we are told that a treaty has been signed by the Sultan of
Zanzibar putting an end to this domestic slavery. We have not yet seen
the terms of this treaty, and must go to press before it appears. We
have reason to rejoice and be thankful, however, that such an advantage
has been gained. But let not the reader imagine that this settles the
question of East African slavery. Portugal still holds to the "domestic
institution" in her colonies, and has decreed that it shall not expire
till the year 1878. Decreed, in fact, that the horrors which we have
attempted to depict shall continue for five years longer! And let it be
noted, that the export slave-trade cannot be stopped as long as domestic
slavery is permitted. Besides this, there is a continual drain of human
beings from Africa through Egypt. Sir Samuel Baker's mission is a blow
aimed at that; but nothing, that we know of, is being done in regard to
Portuguese wickedness. If the people of this country could only realise
the frightful state of things that exists in the African Portuguese
territory, and knew how many thousand bodies shall be racked with
torture, and souls be launched into eternity during these five years,
they would indignantly insist that Portugal should be _compelled_ to
stop it _at once_. If it is righteous to constrain the Sultan of
Zanzibar, is it not equally so to compel the King of Portugal?
The arch robber and murderer, Yoosoof--smooth and oily of face, tongue,
and manner though he was--possessed a bold spirit and a grasping heart.
The domestic institution did not suit him. Rather than sneak along his
villainous course under its protecting "pass," he resolved to bid
defiance to laws, treaties, and men-of-war to boot--as many hundreds of
his compeers have done and do--and make a bold dash to the north with
his eight hundred specimens of Black Ivory.
Accordingly, full of his purpose, one afternoon he sauntered up to the
barracoons in which his "cattle" were being rested and fed-up.
Moosa, his chief driver, was busy among them with the lash, for, like
other cattle, they had a tendency to rebel, at least a few of them had;
the most of them were by that time reduced to the callous condition
which had struck Harold and Disco so much on the occasion of their
visits to the slave-market of Zanzibar.
Moosa was engaged, when Yoosoof entered, in whipping most unmercifully a
small boy whose piercing shrieks had no influence whatever on his
tormentor. Close beside them a large strong-boned man lay stretched on
the ground. He had just been felled with a heavy stick by Moosa for
interfering. He had raised himself on one elbow, while with his right
hand he wiped away the blood that oozed from the wound in his head, and
appeared to struggle to recover himself from the stunning blow.
"What has he been doing?" asked Yoosoof carelessly, in Portuguese.
"Oh, the old story, rebelling," said Moosa, savagely hurling the boy
into the midst of a group of cowering children, amongst whom he
instantly shrank as much as possible out of sight. "That brute,"
pointing to the prostrate man, "was a chief, it appears, in his own
country, and has not yet got all the spirit lashed out of him. But it
can't last much longer; either the spirit or the life must go. He has
carried that little whelp the last part of the way on his back, and now
objects to part with him,--got fond of him, I fancy. If you had taken
my advice you would have cast them both to the hyenas long ago."
"You are a bad judge of human flesh, Moosa," said Yoosoof, quietly;
"more than once you have allowed your passion to rob me of a valuable
piece of goods. This man will fetch a good price in Persia, and so will
his son. I know that the child is his son, though the fool thinks no
one knows that but himself, and rather prides himself on the clever way
in which he has continued to keep his whelp beside him on the journey
down. Bah! what can one expect from such cattle? Don't separate them,
Moosa. They will thrive better together. If we only get them to market
in good condition, then we can sell them in separate lots without
risking loss of value from pining."
In a somewhat sulky tone, for he was not pleased to be found fault with
by his chief, the slave-driver ordered out the boy, who was little more
than five years old, though the careworn expression of his thin face
seemed to indicate a much more advanced age.
Trembling with alarm, for he expected a repetition of the punishment,
yet not daring to disobey, the child came slowly out from the midst of
his hapless companions, and advanced. The man who had partly recovered
rose to a sitting position, and regarded Moosa and the Arab with a look
of hatred so intense that it is quite certain he would have sprung at
them, if the heavy slave-stick had not rendered such an act impossible.
"Go, you little whelp," said Moosa, pointing to the fallen chief, and at
the same time giving the child a cut with the whip.
With a cry of mingled pain and delight poor Obo, for it was he, rushed
into his father's open arms, and laid his sobbing head on his breast.
He could not nestle into his neck as, in the days of old, he had been
wont to do,--the rough goree effectually prevented that.
Kambira bent his head over the child and remained perfectly still. He
did not dare to move, lest any action, however inoffensive, might induce
Moosa to change his mind and separate them again.
Poor Kambira! How different from the hearty, bold, kindly chief to whom
we introduced the reader in his own wilderness home! His colossal frame
was now gaunt in the extreme, and so thin that every rib stood out as
though it would burst the skin, and every joint seemed hideously large,
while from head to foot his skin was crossed and recrossed with terrible
weals, and scarred with open sores, telling of the horrible cruelties to
which he had been subjected in the vain attempt to tame his untameable
spirit. There can be no question that, if he had been left to the
tender mercies of such Portuguese half-caste scoundrels as Moosa or
Marizano, he would have been brained with an axe or whipped to death
long ago. But Yoosoof was more cool and calculating in his cruelty; he
had more respect for his pocket than for the gratification of his angry
feelings. Therefore Kambira had reached the coast alive.
Little had the simple chief imagined what awaited him on that coast, and
on his way to it, when, in the fulness of his heart, he had stated to
Harold Seadrift his determination to proceed thither in search of
Azinte. Experience had now crushed hope, and taught him to despair.
There was but one gleam of light in his otherwise black sky, and that
was the presence of his boy. Life had still one charm in it as long as
he could lay hold of Obo's little hand and hoist him, not quite so
easily as of yore, on his broad shoulders. Yoosoof was sufficiently a
judge of human character to be aware that if he separated these two,
Kambira would become more dangerous to approach than the fiercest
monster in the African wilderness.
"We must sail to-night and take our chance," said Yoosoof, turning away
from his captives; "the time allowed for our trade is past and I shall
run straight north without delay."
The Arab here referred to the fact that the period of the year allowed
by treaty for the "lawful slave-trade" of the Zanzibar dominions had
come to an end. That period extended over several months, and during
its course passes from the Sultan secured "domestic slavers" against the
British cruisers. After its expiration no export of slaves was
permitted anywhere; nevertheless a very large export was carried on,
despite non-permission and cruisers. Yoosoof meant to run the blockade
and take his chance.
"How many dhows have you got?" asked Yoosoof.
"Three," replied Moosa.
"That will do," returned the Arab after a few minutes' thought; "it will
be a tight fit at first, perhaps, but a few days at sea will rectify
that. Even in the most healthy season and favourable conditions we must
unfortunately count on a good many losses. We shall sail to-morrow."
The morrow came, and three dhows left the harbour of Kilwa, hoisted
their lateen sails, and steered northwards.
They were densely crowded with slaves. Even to the eye of a superficial
observer this would have been patent, for the upper deck of each was so
closely packed with black men, women, and children, that a square inch
of it could not anywhere be seen.
They were packed very systematically, in order to secure economical
stowage. Each human being sat on his haunches with his thighs against
his breast, and his knees touching his chin. They were all ranged thus
in rows, shoulder to shoulder, and back to shin, so that the deck was
covered with a solid phalanx of human flesh. Change of posture was not
provided for: _it was not possible_. There was no awning over the upper
deck. The tropical sun poured its rays on the heads of the slaves all
day. The dews fell on them all night. The voyage might last for days
or weeks, but there was no relief to the wretched multitude. For no
purpose whatever could they move from their terrible position, save for
the one purpose of being thrown overboard when dead.
But we have only spoken of the upper deck of these dhows. Beneath this
there was a temporary bamboo deck, with just space sufficient to admit
of men being seated in the position above referred to. This was also
crowded, but it was not the "Black Hole" of the vessel. That was lower
still. Seated on the stone ballast beneath the bamboo deck there was
yet another layer of humanity, whose condition can neither be described
nor conceived. Without air, without light, without room to move,
without hope; with insufferable stench, with hunger and thirst, with
heat unbearable, with agony of body and soul, with dread anticipations
of the future, and despairing memories of the past, they sat for days
and nights together--fed with just enough of uncooked rice and water to
keep soul and body together.
Not enough in all cases, however, for many succumbed, especially among
the women and children.
Down in the lowest, filthiest, and darkest corner of this foul hold sat
Kambira, with little Obo crushed against his shins. It may be supposed
that there was a touch of mercy in this arrangement. Let not the reader
suppose so. Yoosoof knew that if Kambira was to be got to market alive,
Obo must go along with him. Moosa also knew that if the strong-minded
chief was to be subdued at all, it would only be by the most terrible
means. Hence his position in the dhow.
There was a man seated alongside of Kambira who for some time had
appeared to be ill. He could not be seen, for the place was quite dark,
save when a man came down with a lantern daily to serve out rice and
water; but Kambira knew that he was very ill from his groans and the
quiverings of his body. One night these groans ceased, and the man
leaned heavily on the chief--not very heavily, however, he was too
closely wedged in all round to admit of that. Soon afterwards he became
very cold, and Kambira knew that he was dead. All that night and the
greater part of next day the dead man sat propped up by his living
comrades. When the daily visitor came down, attention was drawn to the
body and it was removed.
Moosa, who was in charge of this dhow (Yoosoof having command of
another), gave orders to have the slaves in the hold examined, and it
was discovered that three others were dead and two dying. The dead were
thrown overboard; the dying were left till they died, and then followed
their released comrades.
But now a worse evil befell that dhow. Smallpox broke out among the
slaves.
It was a terrible emergency, but Moosa was quite equal to it. Ordering
the infected, and suspected, slaves to be brought on deck, he examined
them. In this operation he was assisted and accompanied by two powerful
armed men. There were passengers on board the dhow, chiefly Arabs, and
a crew, as well as slaves. The passengers and crew together numbered
about thirty-four, all of whom were armed to the teeth. To these this
inspection was of great importance, for it was their interest to get rid
of the deadly disease as fast as possible.
The first slave inspected, a youth of about fifteen, was in an advanced
stage of the disease, in fact, dying. A glance was sufficient and at a
nod from Moosa, the two powerful men seized him and hurled him into the
sea. The poor creature was too far gone even to struggle for life. He
sank like a stone. Several children followed. They were unquestionably
smitten with the disease, and were at once thrown overboard. Whether
the passengers felt pity or no we cannot say. They expressed none, but
looked on in silence.
So far the work was easy, but when men and women were brought up on whom
the disease had not certainly taken effect, Moosa was divided between
the desire to check the progress of the evil, and the desire to save
valuable property.
The property itself also caused some trouble in a few instances, for
when it became obvious to one or two of the stronger slave-girls and men
what was going to be done with them, they made a hard struggle for their
lives, and the two strong men were under the necessity of using a knife,
now and then, to facilitate the accomplishment of their purpose. But
such cases were rare. Most of the victims were callously submissive; it
might not be beyond the truth, in some cases, to say willingly
submissive.
Each day this scene was enacted, for Moosa was a very determined man,
and full forty human beings were thus murdered, but the disease was not
stayed. The effort to check it was therefore given up, and the slaves
were left to recover or die where they sat. See account of capture of
dhow by Captain Robert B. Cay, of H.M.S. "Vulture," in the _Times of
India_, 1872.
While this was going on in the vessel commanded by Moosa, the other two
dhows under Yoosoof and a man named Suliman had been lost sight of. But
this was a matter of little moment, as they were all bound for the same
Persian port, and were pretty sure, British cruisers permitting, to meet
there at last. Meanwhile the dhow ran short of water, and Moosa did not
like to venture at that time to make the land, lest he should be caught
by one of the hated cruisers or their boats. He preferred to let the
wretched slaves take their chance of dying of thirst--hoping, however,
to lose only a few of the weakest, as water could be procured a little
farther north with greater security.
Thus the horrible work of disease, death, and murder went on, until an
event occurred which entirely changed the aspect of affairs on board the
dhow.
Early one morning, Moosa directed the head of his vessel towards the
land with the intention of procuring the much needed water. At the same
hour and place two cutters belonging to H.M.S. `Firefly,' armed with gun
and rocket, twenty men, and an interpreter, crept out under sail with
the fishing boats from a neighbouring village. They were under the
command of Lieutenants Small and Lindsay respectively. For some days
they had been there keeping vigilant watch, but had seen no dhows, and
that morning were proceeding out rather depressed by the influence of
"hope deferred," when a sail was observed in the offing--or, rather, a
mast, for the sail of the dhow had been lowered--the owners intending to
wait until the tide should enable them to cross the bar.
"Out oars and give way, lads," was the immediate order; for it was
necessary to get up all speed on the boats if the dhow was to be reached
before she had time to hoist her huge sail.
"I hope the haze will last," earnestly muttered Lieutenant Small in the
first cutter.
"Oh that they may keep on sleeping for five minutes more," excitedly
whispered Lieutenant Lindsay in the second cutter.
These hopes were coupled with orders to have the gun and rocket in
readiness.
But the haze would not last to oblige Mr Small, neither would the Arabs
keep on sleeping to please Mr Lindsay. On the contrary, the haze
dissipated, and the Arabs observed and recognised their enemies when
within about half a mile. With wonderful celerity they hoisted sail and
stood out to sea in the full-swing of the monsoon.
There was no little probability that the boats would fail to overhaul a
vessel with so large a sail, therefore other means were instantly
resorted to.
"Fire!" said Mr Small.
"Fire!" cried Mr Lindsay.
Bang went the gun, whiz went the rocket, almost at the same moment. A
rapid rifle-fire was also opened on the slaver--shot, rocket, and ball
bespattered the sea and scattered foam in the air, but did no harm to
the dhow, a heavy sea and a strong wind preventing accuracy of aim.
"Give it them as fast as you can," was now the order; and well was the
order obeyed, for blue-jackets are notoriously smart men in action, and
the gun, the rocket, and the rifles kept up a smart iron storm for
upwards of two hours, during which time the exciting chase lasted.
At last Jackson, the linguist who was in the stern of Lindsay's boat,
mortally wounded the steersman of the dhow with a rifle-ball at a
distance of about six hundred yards. Not long afterwards the
rocket-cutter, being less heavily weighted than her consort, crept
ahead, and when within about a hundred and fifty yards of the slaver,
let fly a well-directed rocket. It carried away the parrell which
secured the yard of the dhow to the mast and brought the sail down
instantly on the deck.
"Hurra!" burst irresistibly from the blue-jackets.
The Arabs were doubly overwhelmed, for besides getting the sail down on
their heads, they were astonished and stunned by the shriek, smoke, and
flame of the war-rocket. The gun-cutter coming up at the moment the two
boats ranged alongside of the slaver, and boarded together.
As we have said, the crew and passengers, numbering thirty-four, were
armed to the teeth, and they had stood by the halyards during the chase
with drawn _creases_, swearing to kill any one who should attempt to
shorten sail. These now appeared for a moment as though they meditated
resistance, but the irresistible dash of the sailors seemed to change
their minds, for they submitted without striking a blow, though many of
them were very reluctant to give up their swords and knives.
Fortunately the `Firefly' arrived in search of her boats that evening,
and the slaves were transferred to her deck. But who shall describe the
harrowing scene! The dhow seemed a very nest of black ants, it was so
crowded, and the sailors, who had to perform the duty of removing the
slaves, were nearly suffocated by the horrible stench. Few of the
slaves could straighten themselves after their long confinement. Indeed
some of them were unable to stand for days afterwards, and many died on
board the `Firefly' before they reached a harbour of refuge and freedom.
Those taken from the hold were in the worst condition, especially the
children, many of whom were in the most loathsome stages of smallpox,
and scrofula of every description. They were so emaciated and weak that
many had to be carried on board, and lifted for every movement.
Kambira, although able to stand, was doubled up like an old man, and
poor little Obo trembled and staggered when he attempted to follow his
father, to whom he still clung as to his last and only refuge.
To convey these poor wretches to a place where they could be cared for
was now Captain Romer's chief anxiety. First however, he landed the
crew and passengers, with the exception of Moosa and three of his men.
The filthy dhow was then scuttled and sunk, after which the `Firefly'
steamed away for Aden, that being the nearest port where the rescued
slaves could be landed and set free.