I have told of how the Emperor transferred me to the _Panther_, which
was then assigned to our West African station, the Cameroons. If my
being aboard the _Panther_ inspired, in itself, vivid recollections
of my past life, my service as an officer of the ship presently
brought me to another and far more delightful memory of my
sailing-ship days. This was an incident that not merely returned to
me in imagination, but one that brought to me that rarest gift of
fortune, a dream come true.
The events that preceded the climax of which I speak were such as to
provide the ever-striking qualities of contrast. The African jungle,
the pursuit of savage beasts, black warriors, an extraordinary black
king, fantastic war dances and all the unearthly sights and sounds
that are Africa, and then...
The commander of the _Panther_ was reluctant to have his officers go
big-game hunting in the interior and, as he said, risk their lives
uselessly. We were forbidden to take rifles on shore with us. But a
comrade and I smuggled our rifles out, and took a big canoe upstream.
With a dozen Negroes at the paddles, we raced against the sluggish
current of the Mungo River, between giant, overhanging walls of
trees. After eighteen hours, we reached Mundame. Our only
worth-while trophy so far was a crocodile--and crocodiles are hard to
shoot, too, as they dive with surprising speed. We had also shot a
few vultures, sea eagles, and monkeys. We could not quite bring
ourselves to eat the flesh of the monkeys, which the natives consider
a great delicacy. When wounded, a monkey cries and screams just like
a child, but when skinned it loses its half-human appearance and
looks like a big squirrel, or a woodchuck.
At Mundame the black people greeted us with eager cries:
"Massa, massa, plenty elephant."
We proceeded on an elephant hunt in which my friend Bryer and I must
have cut rather poor figures as sportsmen! Our chase of the great
beasts did not turn out to be quite what we had expected.
The elephants had broken into a Negro's plantation, and were not far
away. With each a Negro as a guide, we went into the thicket of
banana plants.
"Massa," my guide whispered eagerly, "massa, look, elephant."
I looked but could see no elephant. My guide kept repeating in tones
of excitement that gradually turned into despair.
"Elephant, massa, look, elephant!"
I could have looked for a year and would not have seen the fraction
of gray wall revealed between the leaves. Finally, the elephant
began to move, and I saw at least the great disturbance among the
foliage. I walked toward it, hoping to find some definite point of
the beast's anatomy to shoot at. The elephant moved away at about
the same speed, and I could get no closer to it. I came upon one of
those huge ant hills you find in Africa, and clambered upon it. I
now had a much better view.
"Ostriches!" I exclaimed.
There were many elephants plucking up at the bananas. Their trunks
reaching high and curving and wavering gave me the impression of
giant ostriches. One of the great beasts came out of the thicket
right in front of the ant hill on which I was standing. Several
others followed him. I remembered hastily that I must aim at the
head a little lower than the eyes. I point the gun, pull the
trigger, and then crash! The giant turned around in a circle giving
a tremendous bellow. With a roar and a great sound of rushing, the
beast plunged forward, right past the hill on which I was standing.
The rest of the herd followed and passed very near me. I nearly fell
off the ant hill, and made the deplorable blunder of losing sight of
the elephant I had shot at. Fortunately, the natives, who were to
get their share of the meat, did not allow themselves to become so
readily confused. They followed the wounded animal, and found it
with its tusks rammed deeply in the soil. It took several more shots
in the head to kill the brute.
Nobody travelling in the Cameroons in those days ever passed up a
chance to visit Banum Joja, the most intelligent chieftain in all
Southwest Africa. He was an advocate of what modern improvements he
could introduce into his kingdom, and had invented an especial
alphabet with which to reduce the native language to writing. He was
a great admirer of the Germans, and willed his beautifully carved
antique throne to a German museum.
We went the long distance by train from the coast to the interior
territories of Banum Joja. The palaver drums having advised him of
our arrival, the chief met us with his staff. A long procession of
cattle, goats, and other animals were paraded past us as a sign of
his wealth. The old boy himself majestically arrived in his royal
conveyance, a hammock carried by two slaves, slung on a long pole.
We were considerably surprised at the figure he made. He wore a
glittering cuirassier's helmet, a tremendous battle sword, and a
tight-fitting red hussar's tunic on the breast of which was pinned
the German Order of the Crown. His black, shiny legs, however, were
bare. His pride as a sovereign increased visibly as he observed our
surprise at his appearance.
In his palace, a large thatched hall surrounded by a high wall of
loam, Joja showed us vaingloriously the many smoke-blackened heads of
his ancestors' enemies and a large elephant's tusk decorated with the
lower jaws of slain foes. Pottery is highly developed in those
parts, for everywhere we saw vessels of clay. The only ornament in
the palace, besides the grisly trophies of war and massacre, was the
top of a European butter dish. It represented a setting hen. We
drank palm wine, which was excellent.
In the courtyard of the palace, Joja ascended a stairway in a great
hollow tree. Placed in the branches was the war drum which only the
King may beat. Majestically he clambered out to it, and under the
monarch's hand a muffled beat resounded. The four portals in the
wall of the corral opened and files of black warriors rushed in,
three thousand of them, a magnificent picture. They danced the war
dance, a methodical evolution in which they rushed against each other
with a tremendous clashing of shields. Then followed a
spear-throwing contest with extraordinary displays of skill. The
women entered, and there was another ballet, the women dancing around
the men and then the men dancing around the women. Amid general
rejoicings, the King treated his subjects to palm wine.
Joja arranged a buffalo hunt for us. A place is chosen where the
grass is brown and dry and fallen, else it would be so high that a
horse and rider might disappear in it. On this open hunting field a
dozen warriors take their place with big shields of buffalo hide. By
means of fire and beaters, the buffalo herd is driven toward them.
When they come to the open place, the male stares from the thicket
with his dull brown eyes. He seems to study the black warriors
waiting there. Now he sends his cows to safety through the thicket
surrounding the open place. Then he attacks. The warriors' spears
pierce him in the front. He comes thundering upon them, but with a
fabulous speed they have thrown themselves on the ground, covering
themselves completely with their staunch shields. The enraged beast
passes over them without harming them. He is powerless now. The
spears protruding from his front prop themselves against the ground,
making running difficult. He cannot attack without driving the barbs
farther into his flesh. He turns around. In a flash the Negroes are
up, and the beast receives spears from the back. He can neither
advance nor retreat now. He raves, wants to attack, the sweat
streams down him. He throws himself on the ground. Some of the
spears break off. But now the Negroes are on top of him, thrusting
their spears into him. He receives the final blow and is still.
Religion was a much discussed question in Joja's kingdom. The German
Evangelical missionary comes with Protestant theology. He asks
Joja's people to picture an invisible God. This they are unable to
do. The Catholic missionaries come, visiting the territories
previously covered by their Evangelical colleagues. They talk little
theology, but have a gorgeous display. A miraculous image is mounted
and decorated with mirrors. The Virgin Mary with the Child Jesus
sits in the centre. To the right are the Three Wise Men from the
East. These wise men are particularly interesting to Joja's
subjects, because one of them is a black king. The priest, in
gorgeous vestments, kneels before the beautiful display. The natives
think:
"This is a real God. He is much richer than the Evangelical
missionaries' God."
Joja was a skeptic toward the Christian religion. He asked me
whether our God was black or white, but thought He could hardly be
white, since He had made man in his own image and had made the black
people too. He asked me when Jesus had come to Earth. I told him.
Then he asked when America was discovered. I told him that. He
asked me why Jesus did not go there too and preach his gospel.
While I was in the Cameroons, a German squadron circling the globe
put in at Duala and anchored near shore. It consisted of the
_Kaiser_, the _King Albert_, and the _Strassburg_. The black
chieftains from the interior were entertained on the magnificent
ships. They particularly admired the cannon in the turrets as they
slowly swung around and fired. They asked whether the guns would
shoot over the Cameroon mountains. When this fact was affirmed,
their respect was great. The champagne with which they were served
increased their respect.
The English instigated the Haussa, a mercantile tribe that roams the
entire country plying trade, to spread the story that the ships were
English ships which the English had merely loaned to the Germans.
Having to take the _Panther_ back to Germany for overhauling, we
steamed north. Our first stop was to be for provisions at
Fuerteventura, one of the islands of the Canaries, a vacationing and
health resort. I was on watch. Straight ahead, a speck of land
appeared on the horizon, Fuerteventura, the island for which we were
bound.
It was a green island. Presently, through my glass, I could
distinguish waving palms and white houses, white houses with green
shutters and red roofs. A vague feeling made my heart jump.
"Luckner," I thought, "it is the same island, the island you saw when
you were a cabin boy aboard the _Niobe_, the island of the fairy
princess."
It was. There could be no doubt of it. So clear was memory
impressed by a great feeling that I could recognize individual houses
I had gazed upon seventeen years before while I had leaned on the
rail dreaming a happy dream.
"Luckner," I said, "you are Phelax once again. They call you 'pig,'
and you clean the pigs and the pharmacy. There is the island. Open
your eyes wide. Is it not lovely and beautiful?"
It was as beautiful as when I had seen it from aboard the _Niobe_.
The houses still looked pretty and clean. There were terraces with
gardens and white paths lined with palms.
"Phelax," I thought, "it is fit to be the home of the fairy princess.
It _is_ the home of the fairy princess. She must be there, with her
delicate blue eyes and golden hair, she whom you have thought about
all these years."
We put into port. I attended to my duties. The other officers asked
me why I was so preoccupied. I answered their questions silently to
myself.
"Phelax, now you must go and inspect your island. Perhaps you may
find your fairy princess."
I went ashore by myself, and sauntered over the island all day. It
was small, with gentle hills and an abundance of vegetation. Flowers
were everywhere. It was truly an island of flowers. I went on
through perfumed valleys and over breezy hills, lost in reverie, lost
in my former life. A kind of hypnotism was upon me.
"Phelax," I thought, "of course you do not see the fairy princess.
She is hidden beyond the flowers there. She will stay hidden. Is
she to come to Phelax, a common sailor? Or even if you were a naval
officer, would she come? She is too lovely for any mortal being."
So deep was I in fantasy that these thoughts inspired me to a sad
regret and resignation. When evening came, I returned to the ship
happy and yet downhearted.
That night we entertained on board members of the Royal Spanish Club
and their guests. Some came for dinner, some afterward. It was a
jolly meal. Then we gave an after-dinner entertainment, and I was
called upon to entertain and amuse our guests. During my days as a
sailor I was often in demand to amuse the company. The tricks I had
learned among the Indian fakirs in Australia I had retained and
cultivated. To this day I am somewhat skilful at various kinds of
sleight of hand. I put on Oriental robes and turban. My face,
freshly tanned by the sun of the Cameroons, needed no darkening. I
had learned from the fakirs the solemn mystical demeanour and slow
impressive movements that they cultivated. I must say that as I
appeared before the guests in the salon of the _Panther_ I cut quite
an Oriental, wonderworking figure.
I had performed several tricks and had come to the one in which I
snapped a ring on to a cane held at both ends by an assistant, when
two newcomers arrived and entered through a door not far from me.
"Luckner," I thought, "are you going crazy? Phelax, there is she,
your fairy princess."
She was on the arm of a stately old gentleman. She had the rosy
lips, the short, pretty nose, the childlike eyes, and the rich blonde
hair that had haunted my imagination. She came close to me and
watched me with an expression of interest and something of awe. As I
learned later, she thought I was truly an Indian fakir.
"Phelax," I said to myself, "she has come to you, your fairy
princess. She knows you are on her island, and she has come."
I tried to go on with my trick, but my hands shook and were clumsy.
I could not control them. Nor could I keep my eyes away from the
blonde girl who stood there.
"I'm sorry," I said to my assistant, one of our officers. "The other
ones went all right, but I can't seem to do this one. We've had
enough anyway."
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced jocularly, "the great fakir has
reconsidered and thinks it would be wrong to disclose this last
marvellous trick. He feels that it is his duty to retain it and
exhibit it for the first time before his sovereign, the King of
England."
Everybody laughed. I went out and changed into my naval uniform as
quickly as I could. When I returned, I asked one of the other
officers to present me to the blonde young lady. I have never felt
so bashful as when I made my bow before her.
She was much amused at having taken me for a genuine Indian fakir,
and talked merrily. Her laughter was very sweet. She told me her
name was Irma. Her father owned great plantations on the island of
Sumatra. She was with him at Fuerteventura on a sojourn for his
health.
The remainder of my stay on the island was perfect happiness. Irma's
father entertained us officers at his bungalow. Irma and I were
together all of the time. We took long walks among the white houses
and through the green glades the sight of which had so gladdened poor
Phelax long years before. When the _Panther_ steamed north again, I
was happy with the assurance that Irma had given me that she and her
father were sailing for home in a short time and that I would see her
there.
I did see her there, and we became engaged to be married. The
_Panther_ was to sail for the Cameroons again on July 17th. We were
ready to start when we received an unexpected telegram from the
Admiralty--"Do not start." On August 1st, Germany declared war on
Russia, and the world was ablaze. I told Irma that our marriage must
be put off. It would be wrong to have her become the wife of a man
who might so soon leave her a widow. She wanted an immediate
marriage, but I was determined.