To the north of the Cape of Good Hope Colony, beyond the Great Orange
River, an extensive level region exists, known as the Kalahara Desert.
Here no running streams are found to fertilise the plain, and often for
miles and miles together, not a well nor pool is to be discovered, from
which the weary traveller can quench his burning thirst. Yet destitute
as it is of water, it is in many parts covered with grass, and an
immense variety of creeping plants; while in some places large patches
of bushes, and even trees, find nourishment in the seeming arid soil,
and countless multitudes of wild animals, especially those which require
but little water, or can go many days together without drinking, roam
over its trackless wilds.
This region passed, a fertile country is found, thickly populated by
dark-skinned tribes, who till of late years have had no intercourse with
white men. Here an almost countless number of rivers and streams are
found, some flowing into the mighty Zambesi, and others into Lake Ngami.
Notwithstanding the dangers which must be encountered in crossing the
vast Kalahara Desert, from the scarcity of water, the intense heat, the
wild beasts, the savage people who inhabit its borders, and more than
all, from the attacks of the Tsetse fly, whose poisonous bite speedily
destroys cattle and horses, white traders from the colony occasionally
traverse it, for the purpose of obtaining ivory from the natives.
A tilted waggon belonging to one of these traders, dragged by a span of
fourteen oxen, was slowly moving across the wide-extending plain. On
the box sat a Hottentot driver, his whip in hand, with lash of
prodigious length, reaching even to the leading animals shouting out at
the same time strange sounds to urge them on. A dozen dark-skinned men,
some clad in jacket and trousers, and broad-brimmed hats, but others
having merely a cloth or kilt round their loins, moved along by the side
of the waggon. A few were seated on oxen, and the rest marched on foot,
mostly with arms in their hands. Among those on foot was a young lad,
whose dark skin showed that he was an African, though his features had
somewhat of the Asiatic character. He was dressed more in the English
fashion than the other black men, though his firm step and independent
air proved that young Kibo was well accustomed to traverse the desert
wilds. Ahead of the caravan stalked, with spear in hand, the Bechuana
guide Masiko, whose people inhabit the region to the south of the
desert, over all parts of which, from his earliest youth, he had
wandered. His only garment was a cotton scarf, or plaid of a dark
colour, thrown over his shoulders and wound round his waist, so as to
form a kilt reaching to his knees, his woolly head and his feet being
without covering. Two horses without saddles followed the waggon,
secured to it by thongs of hide, and several spare oxen kept pace with
the vehicle, ready to supply the places of any of the team which might
knock up on the road.
Two white persons mounted on strong horses brought up the rear of the
caravan. One Mr Robert Vincent, the owner of the waggon and its varied
contents, was a strongly-built man of middle age, his countenance well
tanned by African suns; the other a lad of about fifteen years of age
apparently, who, from his slightly-built figure, looked scarcely capable
of enduring the fatigues, of the journey before him.
The bright sun shining down from the cloudless sky shed a peculiar glare
over the whole scene, the atmosphere quivering with heat. Here and
there a few bushes rose above the surface, and broke the ocean-like
horizon; but so exactly did they resemble one another, that to even the
well-practised eye of the trader, they were useless as landmarks to
direct his course. He had, therefore, entirely to depend on the
guidance of Masiko, to conduct the caravan to the different water-holes
and wells on the road across the desert.
Already both men and beasts were suffering greatly from thirst, for at
the last halting-place no water had been obtained, and there was a fear
that the oxen would break down altogether, unless they should soon reach
the wells which the guide assured him would be found ahead.
"Had I supposed we should have found water so scarce on this route, I
would have left you at Mr Warden's station till my return, Martin,"
observed Mr Vincent to the lad by his side. "But I wanted to give you
an insight into the dealing of the natives, for which no small amount of
experience is required, that you may be able to help me in my business,
and be competent in a few years to take charge of a trading expedition
yourself."
"I shall be very glad if I can be of assistance to you, father,"
answered Martin. "I already feel myself the better for the dry air of
the desert. I was very happy with Mr Warden, and should have been
content to remain and help him and his wife in the numerous duties they
have to perform."
"He is a good man, no doubt, Martin," observed the trader; "but his is
not a money-making calling, and it is not one I should wish you to
follow."
"If you had not wanted me to help you, father, from what I learned and
saw while I was with Mr Warden, I would rather have become a missionary
like him than be of any other profession," answered young Martin.
"Oh! you must put such foolish ideas out of your head, Martin. It is
very well for those who are paid for it, and are not fit for anything
better, but I want my son to be a man of the world, to make money, and
to become some day one of the leading merchants of Cape Town."
Young Martin made no reply. On his father's previous journey from the
Cape, Martin had accompanied him, but, unaccustomed to travelling, he
had fallen sick, and had been left at the Missionary-station of Mr
Warden. Though the trader looked upon the illness of his son as a great
misfortune, young Martin had good reason soon to believe it the happiest
event of his life. He there for the first time became practically
acquainted with the glorious truths of the gospel: he learned that man
is a sinner, and by nature a rebel against God, and that through the
atonement and mediation of Jesus Christ can he alone become reconciled
to Him.
This truth brought home to his own heart, he at once comprehended the
importance of the efforts which Mr Warden, and the missionary-band
engaged with him, were making to carry the gospel of love and mercy
among the savage hordes by whom they were surrounded; he knew it to be
the only means by which their natures could be changed, and they can
become not only civilised members of society, but, what is of far more
consequence, heirs of eternal life. He therefore, rejoicing in the
blessings he had himself received, felt an earnest desire to engage in
the glorious work of carrying the same blessings to the dark-skinned
races of that land, long so deeply plunged in ignorance.
Though his health had been completely restored, he would therefore far
rather have remained with the missionary than have taken the journey to
which his father summoned him. But he had learned that obedience to
parents is among the first duties of a Christian; and thus, after he had
frankly expressed his wish to remain, when his father still desired his
company, he had no longer hesitated to obey his summons.
He was accompanied by Kibo, the son of a chief of one of the tribes to
the north of the desert, whom Mr Vincent purposed visiting. Kibo had
been carried away from his home into slavery by the great Matabele
leader Moselekatse, in one of his marauding expeditions against the
territory inhabited by the lad's tribe four or five years before this.
During a visit Mr Warden had paid to Moselekatse, he had seen young
Kibo, then apparently on the point of death, and inducing the chief to
give him his liberty, had carried him to the Missionary-station, where
recovering, he was instructed in the truths of Christianity. The lad
became a true and earnest convert, and his heart yearned to visit his
parents and friends, and to tell them the good news he had heard. Mr
Warden, believing him to be confirmed in the faith, had consented to his
accompanying Martin, in the hopes that by his means his tribe might be
induced to receive a missionary of the gospel among them.
The trader and his son rode on for some time in silence, the former
indeed was beginning to feel too anxious about the chances of finding
water at the end of the day's journey to talk much. Already many hours
had passed since they had left the last water-holes. Although there was
still a sufficient supply in the leathern bottles carried in the waggon
to prevent them and their men from feeling much inconvenience from
thirst, both horses and oxen were already suffering from want of the
moisture so necessary to enable them to swallow their food. They had
stopped as usual during the heat of the day; but though there was an
abundance of grass, it was so dry that it crumbled in the hand, and the
poor animals as they chewed it turned it about in their mouths, in a
vain endeavour to get it down their throats.
Robert Vincent had ordered his men to inspan or harness the cattle at an
earlier hour than usual, hoping by pushing on to gain the promised pool
before nightfall; but the oxen, already fatigued by their previous long
journey, were unable to move as fast as usual, in spite of all the
efforts of their driver.
The trader, at length losing patience, rode on by the side of the guide,
and inquired when they were to reach the pool he had spoken of.
"Not till after the sun has sunk far beyond yonder distant line, unless
the oxen move faster than they are now doing," answered the guide,
pointing to the western horizon.
The trader shouted to the driver. Again and again he made his huge whip
crack, as he struck his team in succession, but without effect; nothing
would induce the poor animals to hasten their steps.
"I am much inclined to ride forward, and try and find out the wells
myself," said Mr Vincent to his son. "I am not quite sure that our
guide is not playing us false. If I thought so, I would shoot him
through the head. It is wiser to trust to one's own sagacity than to a
treacherous guide."
"O father! do not use violence," exclaimed Martin. "Gentle words and
kindness will have more effect in keeping him faithful. I have no fear
about him, for he has long been known to Mr Warden, who has perfect
confidence in him."
"Why do you think he should have confidence in him, Martin?" asked his
father.
"Because, though he was once a fierce savage, he has become a faithful
Christian, and as such would be ready to sacrifice his own life rather
than risk ours when he has promised to serve us."
"I am afraid the fellows are all much alike," observed Mr Vincent. "The
only way of making them faithful is not to pay them till the journey is
over. I only hope he and young Kibo will answer your expectations. For
my part, I have found the heathen black men as trustworthy as the
whites."
"Yes, father," said Martin, "because in too many instances the whites
are merely nominal Christians. Mr Warden has shown me the difference
between a real and nominal Christian, and it is of the first I speak.
All men are fallible, and even in them we cannot hope to find
perfection, but still they can be trusted to do their best."
"Well, well, Martin, when you know more of the world, perhaps you will
change your opinion," remarked the trader in an indifferent tone.
"However, water must be found; and as we have still yearly an hour's
daylight, we may even yet reach it if we push on before dark."
The trader and his son rode on, though their weary steeds did not move
as fast as they wished.
"What is that?" exclaimed the elder Vincent, pointing to an object
moving among the dry grass some distance ahead. "A lion; we must put a
shot into him, or he will be paying the cattle a visit to-night."
Spurring on his horse, he galloped forward, followed by Martin.
"Don't fire, father!" cried Martin, "it is a human being."
Martin was right. They soon discovered that the object they had seen
was an old bushwoman, although, but for the scanty clothing which
covered her wretchedly thin and diminutive body, she might have been
mistaken for some wild animal. She seemed dreadfully frightened, as if
expecting instant death. Martin by speaking to the old woman somewhat
reassured her.
"Water must be near, and she will know where to find it," observed his
father; "so she must come with us whether she likes it or no, and act as
our guide."
The poor creature was soon made to understand what she was required to
do, while Martin assured her that she should receive no harm, and should
be well rewarded. Still this poor wanderer of the desert, accustomed
all her life to ill-treatment, seemed to doubt the motives of her
captors, and turned her head about, as if meditating an escape.
Knowing, however, that she could not outstrip the horses, she walked
quietly on, every now and then looking up and imploring the strangers
not to hurt her. Her husband, her sole companion, she said, was in the
neighbourhood, and would be wondering what had become of her.
"Show us the water, and you shall return to him when you wish," said the
elder Vincent.
She replied that it would take nearly an hour to reach it.
"Look out then for the waggon, Martin, or it may pass us; for on this
hard ground even Masiko may fail to see our tracks."
Martin did as he was told, and, greatly to his relief, at length met the
caravan.
It moved forward for some time. Martin could nowhere see his father.
Masiko made him feel anxious, by hinting that the old woman might, under
the pretence of looking for water, have enticed him among a band of her
own people, notorious, he said, for their treachery. Martin on this
would have ridden forward, had he not received directions to bring on
the caravan.
The sun was nearly touching the western horizon, when, to his great
relief, he at length caught sight of his father's horse in the distance.
At the same instant the cattle began to move on faster than they had
hitherto done.
"Water! water!" shouted the thirsty people, and the whole party rushed
forward ahead of the waggon. Martin, who led the way, could see no
pool. The old woman, however, was on her knees, scraping the sand from
a hole, out of which she began to ladle with a little cup a small
quantity of water into three or four ostrich eggs, carried in a net at
her back.
"I am afraid our poor oxen will not be much the better for this
discovery," observed Martin when he reached his father.
"Wait a bit, our men will soon dig more wells, though it may be some
hours before we shall have water sufficient for the animals," was the
answer.
The men as they came up commenced digging with their hands in the soft
sand a number of holes some distance apart.
As soon as the waggon arrived, the order was given to outspann. Fires
were lighted, the neighbouring bushes affording sufficient fuel, and all
the usual preparations for camping were made.
Martin did not forget the old bushwoman, and with his father's leave
gave her, to her no little astonishment and delight, a piece of meat and
a bunch of beads, and two or three other trifling articles.
The people were employed for several hours in cleaning out the sand from
the holes, for as fast as they dug, it again rolled down and filled them
up. Gradually, however, the water oozed out from the sides, and towards
morning there was a sufficient quantity to afford a little to each of
the thirsty horses and oxen.
Directly the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky the oxen were
inspanned, and the journey recommenced. On search being made for the
old bushwoman, it was discovered that she had decamped. Mean and
wretched though she was, she had rendered an essential service to the
strangers, but she probably thought them as treacherous as they had
supposed her to be.
CHAPTER TWO.
For several hours the weary oxen dragged on the waggon, slightly
refreshed by the limited amount of water they had obtained, and at
length they began to show signs of thirst. Masiko confessed that he
knew of no pool within the distance of another day's journey, and as the
heat had been excessive, he could not be certain that water would be
found in it. It was a question whether the oxen could get as far
without drinking. Noon was approaching, and it would have been worse
than useless to attempt moving on while the sun was overhead. Again
they outspanned. The men sat down to sleep in the limited shade the
waggon afforded; but the poor animals had to stand out in the full glare
of the hot sun, turning their heads in the direction whence came a light
breeze, which prevented the atmosphere being altogether insupportable.
They had halted about a couple of hours, when two objects were seen
moving across the boundless plain towards them. They proved to be the
little, yellow-skinned, shrivelled old bushwoman, and a man of the same
hue, and as scantily dressed as herself. They came without hesitation
up to the waggon. Martin hastened forward, and in a kind tone thanked
them for coming to the camp, assuring them that they were welcome and
would be protected.
"Can you show us where we can find water?" he asked.
Their reply convinced him that Masiko was right, and that there was none
to be found nearer than he had said. They, however, told him that if he
would accompany them a short distance, they would point out where to
obtain what would answer the purpose of water. As his father was asleep
in the waggon, Martin did not wish to disturb him, and therefore called
Kibo, who had meantime been speaking to the bushman and his wife.
"Do you think they can be trusted, Kibo?" Martin asked.
"Yes, good people; no do harm," answered the lad in broken English.
"Then we will go with them."
Martin, saddling his horse, called two of the most trustworthy men to
follow on the spare horses, while Kibo mounting another, they set out in
company with the little bushman and his wife.
They had proceeded some distance, when the latter pointed out a creeping
plant, with long leaves and a thin, delicate stalk, spreading over the
ground in various directions. Both the man and his wife had stones in
their hands with which they struck the ground at various spots, at about
equal distances from the centre of the plant, and then made signs to the
people who had accompanied them to dig, setting the example themselves.
After throwing out the sand to the depth of a foot and a half they came
to a tuber, three or four times as large as an ordinary turnip; and at
each spot where they had struck a similar one was procured. On breaking
open one of the tubers, it was found to be full of juice.
"These very good, me remember them before," observed Kibo.
Martin and the Hottentot loaded their horses with as many of the tubers
as they could carry, perceiving at once what a rich treat they would
prove to the thirsty and starving cattle.
Having first fed their own animals, they quickly returned with their
prize to the camp, accompanied by the bushman and his wife. Martin
having rewarded them, they expressed their readiness to show where more
tubers could be found. The riding oxen having been fed, another party
was despatched to obtain a further supply. On their return they were
able, as soon as the heat of the day was over, to proceed on to the
northward.
"Though I was inclined to look with contempt on those poor little
wretches, father, see how useful they have been to us," observed Martin.
"It goes to prove, as Mr Warden says, that none of the human race
should be despised; and debased as they may be, they are capable of
improvement, and have immortal souls which we should value not less than
those of our other fellow-creatures."
"As to that, my boy, I doubt whether you would ever make anything out of
those wretched little bush-people. Well, well! you have got a number of
new notions into your head. However, when we reach the Makololo, you
will have other things to occupy your thoughts; they are sharp fellows,
and we shall have to keep our eyes open when dealing with them."
Martin knew that it would be his duty to assist his father to the best
of his abilities, and he promised to do so.
They moved on till dark, and started again at dawn, no water having been
found. Had it not been for the roots which God has caused to grow in
this arid desert to supply the wants of His creatures, the oxen must
have perished.
Just as they were about to outspann after their morning's journey, the
little bushman beckoned to Martin, and intimated that he could lead them
to a place where another production of nature could be found which would
assist to sustain the cattle.
Martin, summoning three men to attend him with their oxen, and some
large nets used to carry fodder, followed his volunteer guide, who, to
show his confidence, left his wife with the waggon.
The country over which they passed was even more barren and arid than
any he had yet seen.
At length, after travelling several miles, some large green objects were
seen, which, to his surprise and delight, he discovered were a species
of water-melon.
The Hottentots immediately rushed at them; the first man cut a huge
slice with his axe, but no sooner did he put his mouth to it than he
cast it aside with a look of disgust and bitter disappointment. The
cattle, however, passing by several, began greedily eating others they
came to. Meantime the little guide, after tasting two or three which he
threw down, pointed to some which he signified were good. Martin now
found that some were intensely bitter, while others were sweet and full
of juice; this, however, could only be ascertained by tasting each.
The party having now satisfied their own thirst, collected as many of
the sweet melons as their animals could carry, and returned with them to
the camp.
"That bushman is a serviceable little fellow," observed Mr Vincent. "I
have often seen both the tubers and the melons, but I have never found
them before in this part of the desert. The latter seldom last long
after the rains, as not only do the natives of the desert collect them,
but elephants, and rhinoceroses, and even lions and hyenas, come from a
distance to devour them. It was probably in consequence of the arid
character of the surrounding desert that the patch to which the bushman
took you has escaped a visit from them."
Martin begged that he might be allowed to reward his guide, who seemed
well satisfied with an axe and several other useful articles, as well as
some beads which he received.
"You should have waited till they can be of no further use before giving
them presents," observed his father. "Depend upon it, they will be off
before long; and it Masiko, as I suspect, has lost his way, we shall be
in no small difficulty."
Martin hoped that their new friends would prove faithful, though as the
waggon moved on during the afternoon they said something which made him
suspect that their wanderings did not extend much further to the north.
They, however, accompanied the caravan to the end of the day's journey;
but when morning broke they were nowhere to be seen, they had gone off,
as the old woman had before, without being observed by the watch, who
had probably been slumbering at the time.
Here a whole day was spent, that both men and beasts might obtain that
rest they so much required.
Again the caravan was on the move. Masiko urged that they should push
on as rapidly as possible, for he could not say when they might next
reach water. But a small supply remained in their skin bottles.
The horses and cattle were again suffering greatly. First one of the
oxen in the team fell, then another, and another; and though their
places were supplied by the spare animals, the waggon continued to move
on at an unusually slow pace.
The last drop of water in the skins was exhausted, and even some of the
men accustomed to desert travelling declared they could go no further.
The sun was striking down on their heads with intense force. The men's
lips were parched, their eyes bloodshot. The animals moved on with open
mouths, lowing piteously in their sufferings. The trader began to fear
that the whole party would knock up. In that case, his only hope of
saving his own life and that of his son would be to abandon them with
his waggon and goods, and to gallop forward, on the chance of finding
water.
They had ridden some distance ahead of the caravan, when Martin, who was
a short way in front of his father, shouted out, "Water! water!"
pointing as he spoke to a beautiful lake in the distance, its waters,
curled by the breeze, shining with intense lustre in the bright sun. On
the further shore trees were seen reflected clearly on the surface,
while among them appeared a number of elephants cooling themselves by
throwing water over their bodies.
"We need no longer fear losing our animals, for they will have water
enough now to drink their fill," observed Martin as his father overtook
him.
Mr Vincent did not answer, but anxiously gazed at the sheet of water.
"I know of no lake hereabouts, and it is too important an object not to
be known to all who have ever travelled across the desert; yet my eyes
cannot be deceived," he remarked.
"Shall I ride back and tell the people?" asked Martin.
"Wait till we have ascertained how far off the water is," said his
father; "you may only disappoint them."
"Surely it cannot be very far off, or we should not see those elephants
so clearly," remarked Martin.
They now put their horses into a trot, the poor animals were too much
fatigued to gallop.
Just then the seeming elephants began to move, and suddenly, instead of
elephants, a herd of zebras crossed their path, scampering over the
ground. The next instant the lake had disappeared, and they found
themselves on the borders of an immense expanse of salt, covering the
ground as far as the eye could reach to the north and west. On looking
behind them, however, they saw both their cattle and men moving rapidly
towards the spot, as if they too had been deceived. Bitter was their
disappointment when they discovered their mistake. Two of the poor
animals dropped and died, now another, and now a fourth; still "Forward!
forward!" was the cry. Masiko asserted that water would be at length
reached, though it might be some hours' journey ahead. Thus encouraged,
even those who had hitherto been most inclined to despair exerted
themselves.
"If this is to endure much longer, I fear that I shall be unable to
stand it," observed Martin to Kibo, who was riding by his side. "Should
I die, you will promise me, Kibo, to remain with my father, and to do
your best to serve him, and try and get him back safely to Mr Warden's.
Perhaps if I die he will be more ready to listen to him than he was
during his last visit, and to think that is a great consolation to me.
Oh, how willingly would I give up my life to save his, and much more, to
enable him to learn the glorious truths which have brought joy to my
heart!"
The sun was rapidly sinking in the west. They had left the salt expanse
some way behind; still the country was as dry and inhospitable as ever.
Masiko, at Mr Vincent's order, had pushed on ahead of the caravan.
Suddenly he was seen to wave his spear, and to point with it to a clump
of trees, then to rush forward. Mr Vincent, with Martin and Kibo,
followed him eagerly.
CHAPTER THREE.
Water was found in the bed of what had once been a running river. The
men eagerly rushed forward, and lapped up the refreshing liquid,
followed by the horses and oxen. It was with difficulty that those
yoked to the waggon could be restrained from dragging it in with them,
so eager were they to quench their burning thirst.
The party here encamped, for there were all things requisite--water,
grass, and wood.
Masiko now knew where he was, and he urged his companions to fill all
their water-skins, for this pool would soon be dried up, and they had a
wide desert track to traverse before they could reach the country of the
Makololo.
The next morning, having secured as much water as they could carry, the
party proceeded on their journey.
Day after day they travelled on, often suffering greatly from thirst and
hunger, and dreading the loss of more of the cattle.
At length a stream of running water was crossed flowing to the east, and
the caravan reached the borders of a dense forest, through which a path
had to be cut with axes. Beyond it, far off in the east, hills were
seen rising out of the plain.
Several ruined villages were passed, the plantations near them overrun
with weeds and brushwood; while many skeletons of their unhappy
inhabitants lay scattered about, telling plainly how they had been
attacked by their cruel foes before they had time to escape, and had
been remorselessly slaughtered, while the remainder probably had been
carried off into slavery.
Such scenes met their sight day after day through what otherwise would
have been a smiling country.
Several more of the oxen had died. Scarcely enough survived to drag on
the waggon.
Ahead lay a level waste covered by scrub. Masiko urged Mr Vincent to
wait till nightfall to cross it. He was afraid, he said, that it might
be infested by the tsetse, which does not attack cattle at night. The
trader, however, was eager to proceed, as he was now near the
termination of his journey, and he thought that Masiko was mistaken.
Martin suggested that one of the oxen should be sent on first, and that
if that was not bitten the rest should follow. His father, however,
seemed to have abandoned his usual caution, and insisted on proceeding.
They had not proceeded far across the scrub when several of the
dangerous flies were seen on the animals. It was too late to turn back.
They must now push on in the hopes that some might escape, which they
might do if not severely bitten. The horses might possibly be saved by
galloping on, should the dangerous spot not be of any great extent. Mr
Vincent therefore directed Martin and Kibo, with two of the men, to push
forward with the horses while he himself remained with the waggon.
It was already late in the day before the scrub was passed. Riding on
for some distance, Martin and his companions crossed a small stream and
encamped on a grassy spot, where they hoped to be safe from further
attacks of the deadly tsetse. Examining the horses, however, they found
that all had been bitten, while there was no hope that any of the oxen
would have escaped.
The disease caused by the bite might not show itself for several days,
and the animals might have strength to drag the waggon to the end of the
journey; but if bitten, death would certainly be the consequence.
It was late at night before the waggon arrived. Mr Vincent was much out
of spirits, for he anticipated the loss of all his oxen. It was the
more important, therefore, that they should push on, and the next
morning they were again on their journey.
At length the bank of another large river was reached Several villages
were seen on the opposite side, the dwellings composed of conical-shaped
reed-thatched huts surrounded by circular clay walls. The inhabitants,
on observing the waggon, came across in their canoes to welcome the
trader, who had before been to their country. They were clothed with
skins of animals round their loins and others thrown loosely over their
shoulders.
All were eager to ascertain what Mr Vincent had brought; but he could
not commence trading until visited by their chief, who would first claim
his own dues and make purchases of such articles as he wanted for
himself.
The waggon was soon surrounded by natives, who appeared disposed to be
friendly.
While Mr Vincent was speaking to them they announced that their chief,
Kanenge, was coming across the river. In a short time, a tall man,
dressed like his people, except that the skins he wore were handsomer
and that feathers ornamented the fillet round his head, landed from a
canoe and came up to the waggon. Mr Vincent saluted him, shaking hands
in the usual fashion. The chief then taking his seat on the ground,
they discussed the business which had brought the trader to the country.
One had plenty of goods, the other an abundance of ivory. The chief
was as eager to trade as any of his people, and appeared incapable just
then of thinking of anything else. Every now and then, however, his eye
turned towards young Kibo. At length he remarked how like the lad was
to his own tribe. Mr Vincent then told him how he had been captured by
Moselekatse's people some years before, and had been redeemed by the
missionary. Kanenge listened with intense interest, and calling to the
boy, addressed him. As Kibo replied, the chief's before somewhat stern
countenance became animated and eager. He continued putting questions
to Kibo, to which the boy replied, and then eagerly asked several in
return. At length, with a cry of delight, the chief sprang up, and
pressing young Kibo in his arms, exclaimed--
"My heart was moved when I saw him. I knew him to be of my own people,
but I dared not believe that he was the child I loved, and whom I had
lost so long ago. White man, I will load your waggon with tusks. You
shall take them to the good missionary chief who has sent me back my
boy; or if he will come here with a waggon himself, he and his people
shall be fed as long as they will remain."
Thus the father endeavoured to express his gratitude to the missionary
who had preserved his son, and to those who had brought him back. Mr
Vincent, however, did not put full confidence in his promises. He
replied that he should be happy to convey his messages to the
missionary; but that as he had come to trade, he must purchase tusks for
himself, though he would carry as many as he had room for, if sent as a
present.
The chief offered to convey the trader's goods over the river, and to
float the waggon across it, while the cattle and horses would pass over
by swimming, to his village. This was accomplished the next day.
Kanenge appropriated several huts for the accommodation of his visitors,
in one of which they took up their residence, in another their goods
were stored, while their attendants inhabited the remainder.
Trade was now commenced, and everything appeared to be going on
prosperously. Scarcely, however, had these arrangements been made than
Masiko and their driver came with the intelligence that several of the
oxen were sickening from the effects of the tsetse-bites. No cure was
known. The most healthy had already perished. In a few days it was
found that all the cattle, as well as the horses, had been bitten by the
deadly insect.
Martin tried to console his father by pointing out how much worse it
would have been had they perished on the journey, in which case the
waggon and its contents must have been deserted, and they themselves
would in all probability have lost their lives. The trader, however,
was inclined to look at things in a gloomy light.
Though fresh oxen might be procured in the country, it would require
some time to break them in, while their cost would swallow up a
considerable portion of his profits.
Mr Vincent himself was ill, and in a few days he was attacked with
fever, while several of his men were suffering from the same complaint.
Martin now felt thankful that he had accompanied his father, and while
he attended him with the most devoted care, he did his utmost to take
his place in carrying on trade with the natives. His father appeared
well pleased with the way he transacted business, when he each day
reported the progress he had made, and gradually their store-hut became
filled with elephant-tusks.
"Ah, Martin, you will become a first-rate trader," he observed; "and I
hope we shall soon recover our losses. As soon as I am well we must
push further to the eastward, where I hear there are large supplies of
ivory. In the meantime we must get fresh oxen broken in."
"I am thankful to be able to assist you, father," answered Martin; "but
I must not pride myself on my dealings with the natives. We are now
with a friendly chief who treats us fairly, but I understand the people
among whom you propose going are likely to behave in a very different
way; besides which, the country is exposed to the inroads of hostile
tribes, and should they hear that such a prize as our waggon full of
goods is in the neighbourhood, they will attack us in the hopes of
carrying it off."
"We need not be afraid of them; we have a dozen muskets, besides our
rifles and pistols, and may keep a whole host of enemies at bay,"
observed Mr Vincent. "Kanenge will send a party of his men, and
probably, if I ask him, come himself to assist us."
Martin had now to tell his father that two of their own people were
already dead, and that several others were so ill that there was little
hope of their recovery.
Kibo came every day to the hut, and brought presents of provisions from
his father. Martin asked him if he felt happy at being once more among
his relations and own people. Kibo shook his head.
"No, very sorry," he answered, speaking partly in broken English and
partly in his native tongue. "My father is kind and glad to have me
with him; but he knows nothing of the true God, and wants me to follow
the bad ways of my people, which he thinks right ways. I tell him that
God wishes men to be happy, and to live at peace, and to do good to each
other and not harm, and to love their enemies, and to trust to Him, and
to worship Him only; and that all men are bad by nature and constantly
doing wrong, and that it is only by trusting to Jesus Christ, who was
punished instead of them, that God will forgive them their sins and put
them away out of His sight. My father says he cannot understand how
this can be, and that now I have come to live among my people, I must
believe what they do, and live as they do. I tell him I cannot believe
the lies Satan has invented to deceive them, and that I must not follow
their ways, which are the bad ways Satan has taught them; and so I have
asked my father to let me go back with you and try to persuade Mr Warden
to come here, or to send another missionary to teach the people about
Jesus Christ, and how He wishes men to live."
Martin was truly glad to hear Kibo say this, and he urged him to
persevere in trying to obtain leave to return, promising to beg Mr
Vincent to assist him.
CHAPTER FOUR.
Two months had passed by, the waggon was half loaded with ivory, and Mr
Vincent had partly recovered from his fever; but all his oxen were dead,
and so were nearly half the men he had brought with him. Many of the
natives had also died, and great numbers were suffering. It was evident
that the low-lying region now occupied by Kanenge and his tribe,
intersected as it was by numerous rivers, with swamps in all directions,
was very unhealthy. Martin was thankful when his father proposed moving
eastward to a higher region.
Kanenge had supplied oxen, which the trader's surviving followers had
been engaged for some time in breaking in. The chief also, confiding in
the firearms with which he and his people were to be furnished, agreed
to accompany him.
The waggon and goods were transported across the river, and accompanied
by Kanenge, with nearly a hundred men, the trader's party commenced
their journey in the proposed direction. Mr Vincent being too weak to
walk, was carried in a sort of palanquin, while the rest of the party
marched on foot.
After travelling for upwards of a week, the country greatly improving in
appearance, they reached a steep hill, up which the waggon was slowly
dragged, till at length they found themselves on a wide extent of
elevated ground, high above the plain, which stretched away to the
southward. Here the air felt pure and comparatively bracing, and Martin
at first hoped that his father would recover his strength.
Still, after some days had passed, observing how weak and ill he
remained, he could not help fearing that his days were numbered. Should
his father die, he would indeed have been in a forlorn condition had he
not learned to trust to One who rules all things for the best. He was,
therefore, far more anxious about his father than about himself. Each
evening, when they encamped, he sat by his side, and having read a
portion of Scripture, he endeavoured to turn his father's thoughts to a
future state of existence.
"What, do you think I am likely to die?" asked Mr Vincent one day. "Why
do you talk so much about heaven?"
"We have seen many of our companions die, my dear father, and we know
how uncertain life is in this country, as it is indeed in all parts of
the world, and at all events we should live prepared to quit this life
at any moment. Christ has said that we must enter the kingdom of heaven
here, we must become His subjects while we are on earth, we must be
reconciled to God now, we must be born again; and therefore it is that I
am so anxious you should accept His gracious offers, though at the same
time I pray that you may be restored to health and strength."
At first Mr Vincent turned a deaf ear to what his son said, but by
degrees his hard heart softened, he saw how earnest and affectionate
that son was, and he could not help being aware of his own increasing
weakness.
Although he at first thought himself getting better, the disease had
taken too strong a hold of him to be thrown off. Martin at length had
the infinite satisfaction of finding that his father now listened with
deep attention to God's Word when he read it.
"My dear boy," he said one day, "I now know myself to be a rebel to God,
and grievously to have sinned against His pure and holy laws; and I
earnestly desire to accept the gracious offer of mercy which He holds
out through the atoning blood of Christ, according to His plan of
salvation, which you have so clearly explained to me. I do not know
whether I shall live or die, but I pray for grace that I may ever
continue faithful to Him who has redeemed me with His precious blood."
Martin burst into tears on hearing his father thus express himself--they
were tears of joy--and he felt the great load which had hitherto
oppressed him removed from his heart.
The natives came in to trade, but Mr Vincent was utterly unable to do
anything. Had it not been for Martin, who was assisted by Kibo and
Masiko, no trade could have been carried on.
At length most of the tusks in the neighbourhood were bought up, and as
Mr Vincent had still some goods remaining, he wished to move further on.
He was, however, still so ill that he agreed, at the suggestion of his
son, to entrust the goods to Kanenge, who promised faithfully to take
care of them till his return. He accordingly determined to set out at
once, hoping that the air of the desert would restore him to health, and
the preparations for the journey being completed, the waggon, with its
valuable load of ivory, descended to the plain. Kanenge, with most of
his men, escorted it; while Martin and Kibo remained with Mr Vincent,
who, should he feel stronger, was to follow the next day on a litter.
Martin's spirits now revived, and he began to hope that, the journey
being commenced, his father would ultimately recover. His chief sorrow
was with regard to Kibo. The Makololo chief positively refused to allow
him to return. Martin entreated him to remain true to his faith,
instead of falling into the ways of his tribe. "Try and instruct them,
my dear Kibo," he said. "Young as you are you may be the means of
spreading the glorious truths of the Gospel among them."
"You pray for me then," said Kibo. "I poor boy, I very weak, I do
nothing by myself."
"We are all very weak and helpless in God's work," said Martin. "If you
seek the aid of the Holy Spirit, you will have strength given you."
"Ah, yes," said Kibo; "I no trust to myself, and then I strong and do
much."
This conversation took place at the door of the hut.
Martin thought he heard his father call to him. He ran to the side of
his couch. Mr Vincent put forth his hand to take that of his son.
"Bless you, my boy," he whispered; "the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
from all sin."
Martin put his arm under his father's head. The trader's eyes fixed to
the last on his boy, the film of death stole over them, and ere a few
minutes had passed he had ceased to breathe.
Kibo left his friend for a time to indulge his grief alone, while he
sent off a message to inform Kanenge of Mr Vincent's death.
Towards evening the next day, instead of the chief, who was expected,
Masiko made his appearance. Martin was thankful to have a Christian at
such a time with him.
Martin had chosen a spot under a wide-spreading tree for his father's
grave, and Masiko, who had brought some presents to repay the natives,
had it dug.
Here the white trader was buried by his orphan son and his two
dark-skinned Christian friends.
Kibo had gone back to the village to order Kanenge's people to prepare
for their departure that night, he having received intelligence that a
party of their enemies were on the move and approaching the
neighbourhood.
Darkness had set in, yet Martin was unwilling to leave the spot till,
assisted by Masiko, he had covered the grave over with a thick roof of
branches to prevent its being disturbed by savage animals.
He was thus engaged when loud shrieks and cries from the village reached
their ears. His impulse was to hasten towards it to find Kibo, that
they might, if the placed was attacked, escape together.
"Don't go," exclaimed Masiko, grasping Martin's hand; "you cannot help
him, and will be killed or taken prisoner with the rest."
At that instant several figures were observed rushing towards them.
"Come," exclaimed Masiko, dragging Martin forward in the direction the
waggon had taken. "The enemy will not dare to attack our party armed
with guns, and if we can reach them we shall be safe."
Martin, though anxious to discover his friend, could not help feeling
that it would be unwise to return to the village, probably already in
the hands of the enemy. He therefore hastened on with his faithful
companion, trusting that they would outstrip the foe. He could only
hope that Kibo had made his escape, and that he would rejoin them at the
waggon. This it was probably the object of the marauding party to have
surprised.
They had many miles of rough country to traverse; but, though weary,
Martin was unwilling to stop and rest, as it was important to warn
Kanenge of what had occurred, that he might move the waggon to a greater
distance, or if his force was sufficient, pursue the enemy.
CHAPTER FIVE.
Just as day broke, Martin and his companion approached the camp. The
chief, observing Martin's clothes torn, and his and Masiko's limbs
scratched by the bushes through which they had passed, inquired in an
anxious tone why they had come without his son and the rest of his
people. Masiko then briefly described what had occurred, and said that
they had hurried on to warn him of the threatened danger.
"I know that you would not willingly have deserted your friend," said
the chief to Martin.
"No, indeed, I would not," answered Martin; "and had not Masiko
prevented me, I would have returned at all risks to the village to try
and discover him. I was in hopes that he might have escaped, and would
have followed us. If he does not appear, I am even now ready to return
to try and find him."
The chief uttered an exclamation which showed his grief, and said--
"Too probably he and all with him were surrounded by the enemy, and were
either killed or were carried off as prisoners. If there were a
possibility of his being alive, I would follow him; but our enemies
would not have attacked the place unless with a very large number of
fighting men, against whom my people would have no chance of success. I
also promised your father to defend the waggon and his property with my
life, and if I pursue the enemy I shall leave that defenceless."
"I will sacrifice the waggon and all its contents rather than allow Kibo
to be carried away into slavery," exclaimed Martin.
"I know your friendship for my son, but it would be useless," said
Kanenge. "If the enemy were to see a party outnumbering them
approaching, they would put their captives to death and take to flight.
I am better acquainted with the ways of my country than you are. Our
first business is to take the waggon to a place where it will be safer
than here, and I will at the same time send out scouts to learn what has
happened."
Kanenge now gave orders to have the oxen yoked to the waggon and the
march to begin. He had one of the oxen saddled for Martin to ride, who,
wearied with his long run, more than once dropping asleep, nearly fell
of.
After travelling some distance, a broad stream was reached, with an
island in the centre and a village on the opposite side. Signals being
made, the natives came across with several canoes. The waggon was
quickly unloaded, when it and the goods were carried over to the island.
Kanenge assured Martin that they would be perfectly safe, as the enemy,
having no canoes, could not attack them.
Shortly afterwards the scouts who had been sent out arrived, accompanied
by one of the men who had been left in the village, and who was bleeding
from several wounds. He had a sad account to give. The enemy,
numbering upwards of a thousand men, had secretly approached the
village, and almost surrounding it before they were discovered, had
rushed upon the defenceless inhabitants, killing, as usual, all who
opposed them, and making the rest prisoners. The man confessed that he
and his companions had been completely surprised, but that they had all
fought bravely; and not till he had seen Kibo surrounded by enemies and
carried off, and he himself had been wounded, did he take to flight.
All the rest had been shot down.
Martin had eagerly listened to what the man said, and hoping from the
account he heard that Kibo was alive, he resolved to attempt his
release. He proposed, therefore, as soon as he had rested, to follow
the enemy; and should he overtake them, to go boldly into their camp,
and to try and redeem his friend. They might possibly be content to
receive in exchange the remainder of the goods in the waggon, and if
not, he should be ready to offer as many tusks as they might demand. He
could not devote them to a more satisfactory purpose. He should like to
have returned to Mr Warden with a waggon full of tusks, that he might
for the future be no cost to him, but he would willingly sacrifice the
whole could he regain his friend.
On explaining his plan to Kanenge, the chief replied that though he and
Masiko, being strangers, might be allowed to enter the enemy's camp,
should any of the Makololo go, they would be immediately killed.
Masiko, though well aware of the risk that he would run by putting
himself in the power of the cruel savages bent on making slaves of all
they could capture, without hesitation agreed to accompany Martin.
"God will take care of us, we are doing what is right, we must leave the
rest to Him," he observed.
After a short sleep, Martin and Masiko got ready to set out.
Kanenge selected twelve of his most tried warriors to escort them till
they should reach the neighbourhood of the enemy's camp. The Makololo
were then to remain in ambush, to assist in any way which might be found
practicable.
Among the stores was an English flag which Mr Vincent had been
accustomed to hoist on a high pole above his waggon when prepared to
trade with the natives. This Martin fixed to a staff with the intention
of unfurling it on approaching the enemy.
Martin and his companions were some distance on their journey before
daybreak. They hurried on till fatigue and hunger compelled them to
halt. After breakfasting and taking a short rest they again proceeded.
In vain they endeavoured to obtain information as to the movements of
the enemy. No inhabitants were to be seen.
They passed, however, several villages which had been burned, and saw
numerous bodies of men, women, and even of children, shot down while
attempting to escape. Some of the men also had evidently been killed
while fighting for their homes.
Masiko told Martin that the object of this raid, as well as of
numberless others, had been solely to procure slaves to sell to the
slave-dealers, who sent up parties many miles to the interior from the
east coast.
"Unless the Christian people of your country and others unite to put a
stop to the cruel traffic, there will be no peace or happiness for poor
Africa," he observed.
At length a spot where a village had lately stood was reached. The
remains of the huts were still smouldering, and it was evident that the
enemy had not long quitted it. Numerous dead bodies lay about, shot
through by bullets, showing that the enemy had firearms supplied by the
white slave-dealers to enable them to carry out their nefarious
undertaking. One man was found still breathing. The Makololo showed
very little feeling for his sufferings, but Masiko stooping down, poured
some water from his leathern bottle into his mouth, which somewhat
revived him. The wounded man then told Masiko that the village having
been surprised at night, most of the inhabitants had been carried off,
and he supposed that the enemy could not be many miles off.
The sufferer's life was ebbing fast, and in a few minutes he ceased to
breathe. Most of those killed were old men and old women, not
considered worth carrying off as slaves; or, sadder still, several
infants, who, incapable of enduring the fatigues of the journey, had
been torn from their mother's arms and dashed lifeless on the ground.
Martin, unaccustomed to such scenes, felt sick at heart as he
contemplated the spectacle, though the Makololo warriors regarded it
with indifference. Too often, probably, they had treated their enemies
in a similar manner.
The party now proceeded with the greatest caution, as it was difficult
to ascertain how far off the enemy might have got. At any moment they
might overtake them. Not a single native could be seen from whom they
could gain intelligence.
No guide, however, was required to show them the way, as it was too
clear by the dead bodies of men and women who had been wounded in the
attack, and had sunk down from loss of blood, and frequently by those of
very young children, whose weight had prevented their mothers from
walking as fast as their cruel captors required.
Martin was anxious as soon as possible to overtake the enemy, that he
might have a less distance to send back for the ransom which might be
demanded for Kibo. He was therefore much disappointed when night again
came on, and his party were compelled to encamp. They were fortunate in
finding a spot near a pool, with high rocks and trees round it, where
they could venture to light a fire and cook their provisions without the
risk of being seen by the enemy.
The usual sounds heard at sunset in an African forest had ceased, and
were succeeded by the silence which reigns at night. Martin's
companions too, who had hitherto been talking to each other, had thrown
themselves on the ground to sleep. He was about to follow their
example, when a cry, which seemed to come from a distance, reached his
ears. He listened attentively. It was repeated. He asked Masiko if he
had heard anything. Masiko said that he had, but that it was the cry of
a wild beast. Martin was almost sure it was a human voice, and that it
came from the direction the enemy had taken. Anxious to ascertain if
they were in their neighbourhood, Martin begged Masiko to accompany him.
Taking their guns, they made their way through the wood, the light from
the moon enabling them to do so.
After passing through the wood, they ascended a slight elevation, whence
they could distinguish in the distance the light of several fires, while
a murmur, proceeding from a large number of human voices, reached their
ears. There could be no longer any doubt that they were close to the
enemy's camp, and that the cry they had heard was that of some
unfortunate captive being beaten, or perhaps put to death.
On this Martin and Masiko returned to their companions, resolved to set
out by daybreak, and to try and reach the marauders' camp before the
march was commenced. Martin was so occupied with the thoughts of what
he had to do in the morning that it was long before he could go to
sleep. On one thing he was resolved, that he would not allow Masiko to
run the risk of being seized by the robbers or carried off with the rest
of their captives. Masiko, though very unwilling to let him go alone,
at length consented to remain with the rest in their place of
concealment till Martin's return.
CHAPTER SIX.
Before daybreak Martin and Masiko set out, the latter insisting on
accompanying him as far as he could venture without the risk of being
discovered.
The sounds which proceeded from the camp showed that the people were
already astir, and Martin leaving his gun with Masiko, who remained
concealed behind a thick clump of trees, proceeded alone, taking only
the slender staff round which his flag was rolled.
He kept himself, as he proceeded, as much as possible under shelter, as
his object was to get as far as he could into the camp without being
discovered. As the people were engaged in their various occupations--
some collecting cattle, others lighting fires to cook their food, while
many had not yet even risen from the ground--he succeeded better than he
had anticipated. Seeing some huts before him, he guessed that they were
occupied by the chief of the band and his attendants. Though a number
of people began to press round him, he advanced boldly forward till he
got in front of the largest of the huts, when, unfurling his flag, he
stood quietly waiting to see what would happen. No one in the meantime
attempted to interfere with him, while the countenances of the people
exhibited astonishment rather than anger. He had not long to wait
before the chief made his appearance at the door of one of the huts,
evidently too much surprised at what he saw to utter a word. Martin,
taking advantage of his silence, pointed to the flag and inquired if he
knew to what nation it belonged. The chief made no reply.
"I must tell you then," said Martin. "It is that of a great people who
have more power than all the tribes of Africa put together; yet powerful
as they are, they wish to be friends with all people, and to do them
good. You will understand, therefore, that I come to you as a friend,
and as such I wish to talk to you, and to arrange a matter which has
brought me here."
The chief, at length recovering a little from his surprise, put out his
hand and told Martin that though he had never seen that flag before, nor
did he know the nation of whom he spoke, he was welcome. "Probably," he
added, "some of the people in the camp who have travelled to the sea may
have heard of the great nation." Just then a man came forward and
addressed the chief in a low tone. Martin did not hear what was said.
The chief seemed somewhat agitated, and at length inquired of Martin
whether any of the big canoes of his countrymen were in the
neighbourhood, and what force he had with him. Martin did not say that
no English ships were likely to be in the interior of Africa, nor that
probably he was the only Englishman within many hundred miles of him,
but he replied cautiously that he had come on an embassy of peace, and
that he could not suppose the chief would refuse him the simple request
he had to make.
"My countrymen," he added, "are, as I have said, powerful, and lovers of
peace, and yet when they are compelled to go to war they never reduce to
slavery those they conquer, but wish them to be as free as they are
themselves. Yet they know how to punish those who ill-treat the
helpless."
"Your countrymen may be a great people, but they seem to have very
different notions to mine," observed the chief. "As yet, however, I do
not understand your object in paying me a visit."
"That is the point I am coming to," answered Martin in as firm a tone of
voice as he could command. "You and your people have lately attacked a
village in which were some of my friends, and have carried them off to
sell as slaves. One of them is an especial friend of mine. He is also
of my religion, and understands my language, and I cannot allow him to
be carried away to live among strangers. As I told you, I came here on
a peaceable errand, and all I demand is that you should set a price on
my friend, and if you will allow him to accompany me I will send you the
goods you demand."
The chief, on hearing this speech, looked greatly relieved, and after
consulting with several of his headmen, asked Martin to point out the
friend of whom he spoke.
Martin replied that he would, and was forthwith conducted to the part of
the camp where the unfortunate slaves, who had by this time got ready to
commence their march, were assembled. The men were generally chained in
parties of six together, with heavy manacles on their hands; while the
women were secured two and two with ropes round their waists, they
having often to carry loads in addition to their children, who clung to
their backs. The boys were manacled in the same way as the men; while
the younger girls, though fastened together to prevent their running
away, were allowed to travel without loads, not from any feeling of
mercy on the part of their captives, but that they might appear to
better advantage on their arrival at the slave-market. Some of the men
who had apparently been refractory were secured by having their necks
fixed in forks at the end of heavy poles, the fork being secured by iron
pins bolted in at the broader end so as to prevent them from slipping
out their necks. Two or three dozen of the stronger men were thus
fastened together two and two, some having also chains round their
wrists. A number of men--some armed with spears and swords, and others
with muskets--stood ready to prevent the possibility of the captives
escaping.
Martin hurried to the spot where the boys were collected, eagerly
scanning the faces of the young captives. He had passed by a number,
among whom he in vain searched for Kibo. There was one more group a
little further on, still sitting or lying down. The reason of this was
at once apparent. One of the poor lads being unable to rise, his
companions in misfortune were kicking and pinching him to make him get
up, with the exception of one, who was endeavouring to protect him from
their cruelty. In that one, though deprived of his English clothes and
naked like the rest, Martin recognised his friend Kibo. He was so
engaged in his generous efforts to protect the sufferer that he did not
at first observe Martin approaching. Kibo, at length seeing Martin,
uttering a cry of joy, endeavoured to spring forward, but his chain
quickly checked him. The other lads on this ceased tormenting their
companion, and gazed with astonishment at the stranger and his flag.
Martin, speaking in English, told Kibo why he had come to the camp, and
advised him not to say who he was lest the chief should increase the
amount he might demand for his ransom.
"There is my friend," he then said, turning to the headman who had
accompanied him. "You see, as I told you, that he speaks my language,
and you will now believe that everything else I have told you about him
is true. Set him at once at liberty, and I will send the goods as soon
as I return to the camp."
Greatly to his joy, Martin saw Kibo's manacles knocked off, and they
stood together grasping each other's hands. Kibo, however, did not move
from the spot, but casting his eyes towards the poor lad on the ground,
he said, "Can you get him set free too? he is sick already, and will die
if made to travel with the rest. I have been telling him about Jesus
Christ, and he says how much he wishes to know Him better, and that he
would come to this country and teach people to be happy. Oh, how
grieved I should be if he were to die and not know more about Him!"
Martin at once pointed out the sick lad to the headmen, and told them
that if they would knock off his chains and carry him to their chief, he
would pay a ransom for him as well as for his friend. As the savages
saw that this would be a clear gain, well knowing that the lad would die
if compelled to march with the rest, they at once complied; and Martin
grasping Kibo by the hand, followed by a couple of men carrying the poor
lad, returned to the hut, in front of which the chief was seated smoking
his pipe, and surrounded by several persons. One of these, though his
skin was as brown as that of the rest, had European features, and was
dressed in shirt and trousers, and Martin rightly conjectured that he
was an agent of the slave-dealers on the coast, and had instigated the
raid which had unhappily been so successfully carried out. Martin had
brought a list of his remaining goods, and the chief appeared satisfied
with those he offered in exchange for Kibo and the other lad. He was in
hopes that the matter would quickly be settled, when the white man
advised the chief to refuse the articles offered and to insist on having
tusks instead. Martin had been too long accustomed to deal with the
natives to yield at once, or to acknowledge that he had any tusks.
"I tell you truly that I offer you all my remaining goods," he answered.
"If you will send messengers to receive them, I promise to send them to
you as soon as I can get back to my camp."
The chief, instigated by the slave-dealer, insisted on having tusks,
finally agreeing, however, to receive twelve for Kibo and two for the
poor sick lad, who, he remarked, was not likely to be of much use to any
one. He would probably not have allowed his captives to go free until
he had received the tusks, but when Martin promised on the faith of his
flag to send them, even the slave-dealer advised him to consent,
observing that Englishmen, though he hated them from his heart, always
fulfilled their promises. Martin, thankful that his enterprise had thus
far succeeded, set out with Kibo, accompanied by fourteen men, who were
to go a part of the distance and there to wait till the arrival of the
tusks. On consideration of receiving payment, they agreed to carry the
poor lad whose freedom Martin had obtained. As they approached the spot
where he had left his companions, he and Kibo hurried forward to give
them warning. Their joy at seeing their chief's son was very great, and
they declared that Martin ought to be made a chief himself. Martin,
committing the two rescued lads to the charge of the Makololo, urged
them to hasten on to Kanenge, while he followed with Masiko, as he was
anxious to separate the hostile natives as soon as possible, fearing
that either one or the other might be guilty of some act of treachery.
He advised those who had come from the camp to remain at the spot where
he left them till his return. The men begged that he would leave his
flag, as no one, they observed, would then venture to attack them, and
it would be an additional proof that he intended to fulfil his promise.
This he gladly agreed to do. He then set out with Masiko, and travelled
on with all speed, supported by the feeling that he had succeeded in his
undertaking, and by his wish to fulfil his promise. For many miles the
country was desolate, and no food was to be obtained. In the evening,
however, they overtook their companions, who had sufficient for their
wants. Kibo gave a good report of his friend Telo, who by his
directions had been carried on a litter.
"I have promised that you, Martin, will take him with you to the
missionary, who will instruct him in the religion of which I have been
telling him. He says that as all his friends have been killed or
carried off as slaves he will gladly go with you."
"But I must get you also to go with me, if your father will let you,"
said Martin. "You will then learn English, and obtain more knowledge of
the Bible; and you may some day return to this country with a white
missionary, to whom you may act as interpreter, and be able to instruct
your people in the truths of the Gospel."
Kibo, who had not been attracted by the examples of savage life he had
witnessed, gladly promised to try and obtain his father's leave to
return with Martin. He did this more willingly as he found with regret
that Kanenge was in no way disposed to listen to him when he tried to
explain the Gospel, and he hoped that a missionary would be more
successful. The discussion of their plans for the future occupied them
during the remainder of their journey. Kanenge received his son with
joy, and expressed his warmest gratitude to Martin for bringing him
back. Though he confessed that a very high price had been demanded for
his liberation, he seemed rather flattered than otherwise by it, and
insisted on replacing the tusks taken from Martin's store. He showed,
however, that he was still the savage by observing that Martin had been
over-generous in rescuing poor Telo, who was not worth the two tusks he
had promised. Martin did not consider it necessary to argue the point,
merely replying that he would give them from his own store.
As soon as he had rested, leaving Kibo with Kanenge to look after Telo,
he and Masiko set out, attended by several men carrying the tusks he had
promised as a ransom for the two young blacks. He also selected a
number of articles to distribute among the party who had escorted him
from the camp. He found them anxiously waiting his return, and in fear
of being attacked on their march to overtake the rest of their party.
No sooner had they received the tusks and presents than they hurried
off, and Martin and Masiko returned in safety to Kanenge's camp. In a
short time Kanenge managed to obtain as many tusks as Martin had paid
for his son's ransom, with several in addition, which he presented as a
gift. Martin having thus, greatly to his satisfaction, rescued Kibo
from slavery, was anxious to rejoin Mr Warden as soon as possible.
Still, eager as he was to set out, he determined not to go, if possible,
without his friend. He had frequent conversations with Kibo on the
subject.
Martin went to the chief, who again expressed his gratitude to him for
rescuing his son.
"Yes," said Martin, "I, it is true, redeemed him from slavery, but that
was only the slavery which binds the body; you wish to bring back his
soul into slavery, which is ten thousand times worse than that from
which I saved him. If he remains with you, and follows your customs, he
will be Satan's slave. Allow him to return with me, and in a few years
I trust that he will come back and be able to show you and your people
how you may be free indeed, and enjoy the blessings which my religion
can alone give you. You acknowledge that I have been the means of
rescuing him from your enemies; I have a right, therefore, to entreat
that you will allow him to accompany me."
For a considerable time Kanenge did not speak. A great struggle was
taking place within him. At length he answered--
"He shall go with you, my son. You have said what is true; only,
remember your promise, that he is to return here to see me ere I die."
Martin again assured Kanenge that should God spare his life, Kibo would
return with a white missionary to instruct him and his people, and then
hastened away to communicate to his friend the joyful intelligence.
Preparations for their departure were now made, and the waggon being
well loaded, Martin and his two young companions, with Masiko as
conductor, set out on his journey southward across the desert. The
Hottentot driver and four of his men survived, while several of the
Makololo gladly undertook to fill the places of the others and to form
the necessary escort. Kanenge accompanied them for a couple of days on
their journey, urging Martin to come back with Kibo, and promising to
give him a warm reception.
The journey across the desert was performed without an accident. Martin
had no intention of following the life of a trader, having far higher
aims in view. He without difficulty disposed of his waggon and its
valuable cargo, and with Mr Warden's assistance, invested the proceeds,
which were sufficient not only to supply his very moderate wants for the
present but for the future. He at once began diligently to prepare
himself for the important duties of a missionary, Kibo and Telo
following his example. The three young men were in the course of a few
years fitted to go forth on their destined work, and were the means of
bringing many in that long-benighted region out of Nature's darkness
into the glorious light of the Gospel.
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The End.