"Ay, 'tis well to be cautious when nothing is to be gained by daring.
These fellows outnumber us, and war-parties are not to be trusted--at
least not if these of Africa resemble those of North America."
"Hollo! there's a white man with them," cried Peterkin, as he peeped
over the bushes behind which we were hid.
"You don't say so, eh? So there is. Come; we have nothing to fear from
the party of a traveller.--What, Mak, you shake your head! What mean
you?"
Makarooroo increased the shaking of his head, and said, "Me no know
_dat_, massa. P'raps hab more to fear dan you tink."
"Oh, stuff! come along. Why, Mak, it seems as if gorilla-hunting had
failed to improve your courage."
As Jack said this he stepped out from among the bushes and advanced to
meet the strangers. Of course we all followed, and although we carried
our rifles in a careless manner, as if we expected no evil, yet we held
ourselves in readiness to take instant action if necessary.
The moment the negroes perceived us, they set up a great shout and
brandished their spears and guns, but the voice of their leader was
instantly heard commanding them to halt. They obeyed at once, and the
European stranger advanced alone to meet us. As he drew near we
observed that he was a splendid-looking man, nearly as large as Jack
himself, with a handsome figure and a free, off-hand gait. But on
coming closer we saw that his countenance, though handsome, wore a
forbidding, stern expression.
"Dat am a slabe-dealer," whispered our guide, as the stranger came up
and saluted us in French.
Jack replied in the same language; but on learning that we were
Englishmen, he began to talk in our own tongue, although he evidently
understood very little of it.
"Do you travel alone with the natives?" inquired Jack, after a few
preliminary remarks.
"Yaas, sair, I doos," replied the stranger, who was a Portuguese trader,
according to his own account.
"You seem to carry little or no merchandise with you," said Jack,
glancing towards the party of natives, who stood at some distance
looking at us and conversing together eagerly.
"I has none wis me, true, bot I has moche not ver' far off. I bees go
just now to seek for ivory, and ebony, and sl-a---w'at you call him?
barwood."
The man corrected himself quickly, but the slip confirmed Makarooroo's
remark and our own suspicions that he was a slave-dealer.
"De day is far gone," he continued, putting as amiable a smile on his
countenance as possible; "perhaps you vill stop and we have dine
togedder."
Although we did not much like the appearance of our new friend or his
party, we felt that it would be uncourteous in so wild a country, where
we had so few chances of meeting with white faces, to refuse, so we
agreed. A camp-fire was speedily kindled, and the two parties mingled
together, and sat down amicably to discuss roast monkey and venison
steaks together.
During the course of the meal the Portuguese trader became so
communicative and agreeable that we all began to think we had judged him
harshly. We observed, too, that Makarooroo and the negroes had
fraternised heartily, and our guide was singing and laughing, and making
himself agreeable at a very uncommon rate, so much so as to call forth
our surprise.
"Mak seems to be mad to-day," observed Peterkin, as one of our guide's
jovial laughs rang through the wood and was echoed by his new
acquaintances.
"Bees him not always so?" inquired the Portuguese.
"He's always hearty enough," replied Jack, "but I must confess I never
saw him in such high spirits as he seems to be in just now. It must be
the effect of meeting with new faces, I suppose."
"Ah! s'pose so," remarked the trader.
I was struck with the manner in which this was said. There was a tone
of affected indifference, such as one assumes when making a passing
remark, but at the same time a dark frown rested for one moment on his
brow, and he cast a piercing vindictive glance at our guide. Next
moment he was smiling blandly and making some humorous remark to
Peterkin.
I looked at my companions, but they had evidently not observed this
little piece of by-play. It seemed to me so unaccountable, considering
that the two men had never met before, that I resolved to watch them. I
soon observed that Makarooroo's mirth was forced, that he was in fact
acting a part, and I noticed once or twice that he also cast an
occasional stealthy and piercing glance at the Portuguese. It
afterwards turned out that both men had been acting the same part, and
that each had suspected what the other was doing.
When our meal was concluded we prepared to resume our separate routes.
"I goes to de west," observed the Portuguese, in a casual way, as he
buckled on the belt that supported his hunting-knife.
"Indeed! I had understood you to say that you were going south."
"No; you not have onderstand me. I goes to de west, ver' long way."
"Then, sir, I wish you a safe and pleasant journey," said Jack, lifting
his cap.
"De same to you, sairs, an' goot plenty of gorillas to you. Farder nord
dey be more plenty. Adieu!"
We took off our caps to each other, and saying farewell, we turned away,
and soon lost sight of the party.
"Ho! de yaller-faced villain," exclaimed Makarooroo between his clinched
teeth, after we were out of earshot.
"Why, what's wrong, Mak?" inquired Peterkin, in great surprise.
"Ho! noting porteekler," replied the guide, with an air and tone of
sarcasm that quite amused us. "Hims not go sout', ho no! hims go west,
ho yis! Hims advise us to go nort', ho dear! dat bery clibber, bery
mush clibber; but we is clibberer, we is, ho! ho! ho!"
Our worthy guide looked so terribly fierce as he uttered this fiendish
laugh, that we all came to a stand and gazed at him in surprise; we
fancied that something must have deranged his mind.
"Mak," said Peterkin, "you are mad. What mean you by such grimaces?"
Pursing his lips tightly, and looking at each of us for a few moments in
silence, he finally crossed his arms on his chest, and turning eagerly
to Jack, said with extreme volubility--
"Dat rascal! dat tief! Him's no trader, him's slabe-dealer; hims no go
west, hims go south; an' w'at for hims go? W'at for hims carry guns so
many, eh? Hims go" (here the guide dropped his voice into a whisper of
intense bitterness)--"hims go for attack village an' take all peepils
away for be slabes. No pay for 'em--tief!--take dem by force."
"Why, how did you come to know all this," said Jack, "or rather to
suspect it? for you cannot be sure that you are right."
"W'at, no can be sure me right? ho, yis, me sartin sure. Me bery
clibber. Stop, now. Did him--dat tief!--speak bery mush?"
"Certainly he did, a good deal."
"Yis, ho! An' did him make _you_ speak bery mush?"
"I rather think he did," replied Peterkin, laughing at our guide's
eagerness.
"Yis, ho! hims did. An' did him ax you plenty question, all 'bout where
you go, an' where you come from, an' _de way back_ to village where we
be come from? An' did hims say, when him find you was come from _sout_,
dat hims was go _west_, though before dat hims hab say dat hims be go
_sout_, eh?"
"Certainly," said Jack, with a thoughtful look, "he did say all that,
and a great deal more to that effect."
"Yis, ho! hims did. Me know bery well. Me see him. An' me also dood
to de niggers what hims do to you. Me talk an' laugh an' sing, _den me
ax dem questions_. But dey bery wise; dey no speak mush, but dey manage
to speak 'nuff for me. Yis, me bam--bam--eh?"
"Boozle," suggested Peterkin.
"Vis, bamboozle dem altogidder, ho! ho!"
After a little further explanation we found that this Portuguese trader
was a man-stealer, on his way to one of the smaller villages, with the
intention of attacking it. Makarooroo ascertained that they meant to
proceed direct to that of King Jambai, first, however, getting one of
the neighbouring tribes to pick a quarrel with that monarch and go to
war with him; and we now recollected, with deep regret, that in our
ignorance of what the Portuguese was, we had given him a great deal of
information regarding the village of our late hospitable entertainer
which might prove very useful to him, and very hurtful to poor King
Jambai, in the event of such a raid being carried out.
But, in addition to this, Makarooroo had ascertained that it was
possible that, before going to King Jambai's village, they might perhaps
make a descent on that of our friend Mbango, with whom we had left poor
Okandaga. It was this that raised the wrath of our guide to such a
pitch.