_CAPTIVITY IN LUDAMAR._
The treatment which Park now experienced in the camp of Ali was brutal
and barbarous beyond description.
In the eyes of the degenerate Arabs of Ludamar he was an object
detestable both to God and man--a Christian and a spy. Everything,
therefore, that savage ingenuity could invent to insult and torture him
was heaped upon him with fiendish glee and eagerness.
On the morning after his arrival he was confined in a small square
flat-roofed hut built of corn stalks, which happily admitted the
breeze and excluded the sun. The hog was tied to the hut as a suitable
companion to the hated Christian.
From morning till night the unhappy prisoner had to place himself on
exhibition, and incessantly demonstrate the whiteness of his skin, the
number of his toes, and the method of adjusting his dress--for all
which torment he was repaid with curses. In common with the hog, he was
made the sport of men, women, and children alike. Not even at night
was he left to himself, being continually disturbed by his guards bent
on satisfying themselves that he was safe in the hut, or by thieves
seeking what they could carry away. To these tortures of mind and body
was added the uncertainty of what might be before him. A council of
elders had considered his case, and he was variously told that death,
the loss of the right hand, or the putting out of his eyes, was the
fate reserved for him.
To add to the miseries of his condition, he had to suffer the hardships
attendant on the observance of Rhamadan, the month of fasting, during
which the faithful are not permitted to eat or drink between sunrise
and sunset. This fast from meat and drink, bad enough at any time
in a scorching climate, was rendered doubly painful to the unhappy
traveller by the extreme scantiness of the supply doled out to him once
in the twenty-four hours at midnight. Then, too, it was the hottest
time of the year, and so scorching at times were the winds from the
desert, that it was impossible to hold the hand in a draught without
pain. Sandstorms, too, now and again filled the air to the point of
suffocation, while the heavens overhead were as brass, and the sands
under foot as the floor of an oven.
Under these distressing conditions Park’s only _rôle_ was to comply
with every command, and patiently endure every insult, compatible with
appearing as useless as possible to the tyrants, so that they might not
be tempted to detain him for the value of his services.
Day after day thus passed, each one more miserable than the preceding,
but Park’s iron frame and indomitable spirit stood it all. Where his
savage gaolers failed, however, the fears and doubts for his future
progress and the ultimate success of his mission threatened to succeed.
The excessive heat and scarcity of water in the wilderness made
escape in the hot season out of the question, while the hardships and
dangers of travel to be faced in the wet season appeared scarcely less
appalling.
The blackness of the outlook began to cloud even his sanguine
temperament, and the heart sickness of hope deferred frequently
manifested itself in fits of melancholy and despondency. With the
lowering of his mental tone came also the bodily reaction, and a smart
fever was the result.
Even then he obtained no alleviation of his sufferings. His distress
was a matter of sport to the Arabs, till life became a burden to him.
He trembled at times lest the peevishness, irritability, and enfeebled
power of self-command accompanying the disease should cause him to
overleap the bounds of prudence, and in the height of an outburst
of passion commit some act of resentment which would lead to his
death--death, and with his work unfinished.
On one of these occasions he left his hut and walked to some shady
trees at a short distance from the camp, where he lay down in the hope
of obtaining a little solitude. He was discovered by Ali’s son and a
band of horsemen, who ordered him to get up and follow them back to
camp. Park begged to be allowed to stay a few hours. For answer one of
the horsemen drew his pistol, and presenting it at Park’s head, pulled
the trigger. Happily it did not go off. Once more the brute essayed
his weapon with the same result. None of his companions made the
least attempt to stop him. Helpless, Park could but sit awaiting his
doom, what indeed would have been a happy release from his miseries,
only that as yet the task he had set himself was unaccomplished. With
renewed precautions the pistol was presented a third time, when the
hapless victim, who so far had not spoken, begged his would-be murderer
to desist, promising at the same time to return with him to the camp.
Before Ali his position was no better. With fiendish malignity the
latter played with his prisoner as a cat does with a mouse, opening and
shutting the pan of his pistol and watching the while the effect on the
demeanour of the white man before him. Getting but small amusement out
of his resolute and indifferent mien, he sent him off at last with the
threat that the next time he was found wandering outside the camp he
would be shot forthwith.
“One whole month had now elapsed since I was led into captivity, during
which time each returning day brought me fresh distresses. I watched
the lingering course of the sun with anxiety, and blessed his waning
beams as they shed a yellow lustre along the sandy floor of my hut,
for it was then that my oppressors left me, and allowed me to pass the
sultry night in solitude and reflection.”
With habit and time Park began to be inured to his situation. Hunger
and thirst were more easy to bear than at first, and the people getting
accustomed to his presence, were not quite so troublesome. To beguile
the time he made inquiries regarding the route to Timbuktu and the
Haussa countries, and even got some of his tormentors to teach him the
letters of the Arabic alphabet.
About the middle of April Ali proceeded north to bring back his chief
wife Fatima. During the chief’s absence, though Park was less molested
than usual, he was also less regularly supplied with his scanty
rations. For two successive days he received none at all, and had to
endure the pangs of hunger as best he might. This he found painful
enough at first, but soon discovered that temporary relief might be had
by swallowing copious and repeated draughts of water.
Johnson--who meanwhile had been brought from Dina before he could leave
for the coast--and Demba, not having the spirit of their master to bear
them up in the midst of misfortune, sank into the deepest dejection,
remaining for the most part prostrate on the sands in a sort of torpid
slumber, from which they could scarcely be roused even when food
arrived.
To the languor and debility brought on by semi-starvation was added
on Park’s part the affliction of sleeplessness; deep convulsive
respirations shook him from head to foot; semi-blindness seized him,
and with difficulty he fought a frequent tendency to faint.
But the cup of his misery was not yet full. The King of Bambarra,
incensed at Ali’s refusal to join him against Daisy, King of Kaarta,
proclaimed war against him. This threw the country into confusion.
The camp at Benaun was at once broken up, and a retreat further north
commenced. On the first day a halt was made at a negro town called
Farreni.
Again Park’s rations were forgotten. Next day, foreseeing similar
treatment, he proceeded himself to the head man of the town and begged
some food. This was not only granted, but promised to be continued as
long as he remained in the neighbourhood.
On the 3rd of May Ali’s camp was reached, and found to be pitched in
the midst of a thick wood. Here Park was presented to Fatima. This lady
was singularly beautiful, according to the Ludamar Arab idea--that
is to say, she was remarkably corpulent. “A woman of even moderate
pretensions to appearance must be one who cannot walk without a slave
under each arm to support her, and a perfect beauty is a load for a
camel.” To attain this pinnacle of perfection, the girls are gorged by
their mothers with great quantities of kuskus and camel’s milk, which
must be taken no matter what the appetite may be. “I have seen a poor
girl sit crying with the bowl at her lips for more than an hour, and
her mother watching her all the while with a stick in her hand, and
using it without mercy whenever she observed that her daughter was not
swallowing.”
At first Fatima affected to be shocked at Park’s appearance, but showed
that she had a woman’s heart by presenting him with a bowl of milk.
Later on she proved to be his best friend.
The heat had now become insufferable. Everything vegetable was scorched
up, and the whole country presented a dreary expanse of sand dotted
over with a few stunted trees and thorny acacia bushes. Water was
almost unattainable, and night and day the wells were crowded with
cattle lowing and fighting with each other to get at the troughs. The
pangs of thirst rendered many of them furious and ungovernable, while
the weak, unable to contend for a place, endeavoured to quench their
thirst by licking up the liquid mud from the gutters--frequently with
fatal consequences.
The suffering due to the scarcity of water extended to the people, and
to no one more than the white captive among them. If his boy Demba
attempted to get a supply of water, he was usually soundly thrashed
for his presumption. This treatment became so intolerable in the end
that Demba would rather have died than go near the wells. Park and his
attendants were in this way reduced to begging from the negro slaves,
but with indifferent success. Fatima, however, more than once relieved
their necessities. Nevertheless, time after time, Park “passed the
night in the situation of Tantalus. No sooner had I shut my eyes than
fancy would convey me to the streams and rivers of my native land;
then, as I wandered along the verdant brink, I surveyed the clear
stream with transport, and hastened to swallow the delightful draught;
but, alas! disappointment awakened me, and I found myself a lonely
captive perishing of thirst amidst the wilds of Africa!”
One night, driven half wild by his tortures, he started off in search
of relief. At every well he found struggling herdsmen, and from one
and all he was driven away with outrageous abuse. At length at one he
found only an old man and two boys, from whom he was on the point of
receiving what he sought, when, discovering whom they were about to
supply, they dashed the water into the trough, and told him to drink
with the cattle. Too glad to get water in any way, “I thrust my head
between two of the cows, and drank with great pleasure, until the water
was nearly exhausted, and the cows began to contend with each other for
the last mouthful.”
Signs that the wet season was approaching began to show themselves
towards the end of May in frequent changes of the wind, gathering
clouds, and distant lightning. At the same time Park’s fate was
approaching a crisis, and he began to revolve schemes of escape. His
hopes rose high when discovering that Ali was about to join some
rebellious Kaartans in attacking Daisy, through the intervention of
Fatima, he was permitted to accompany the expedition as far as Jarra.
Once in Kaarta, he hoped that means would be found to escape from his
barbarous captors.
Fatima next conferred a further favour on him by returning part of
his clothes, of which he had been deprived since he fell into Ali’s
hands. Following these came his horse, now reduced, by hard work and
starvation feeding, to skin and bone, but still fit for work.
On the 26th of May, Park set out with the Moors towards Jarra,
accompanied by Johnson and Demba. At night they camped at a
watering-place in the woods, but the accommodation being limited, Park
was compelled to sleep in the open in the centre of the huts, where he
could more easily be watched.
In the morning they had to face unprotected all the violence of a
sandstorm, which raged with great fury the whole day. At times it was
impossible to look up. The cattle, maddened by the driving sand, ran
recklessly hither and thither, threatening to trample the prisoners to
death.
Next day our traveller’s rising hopes received a serious check. While
preparing to depart a messenger arrived, who, seizing Demba, told him
that henceforth Ali was to be his master, and that he must return at
once to the camp they had left. With him were to go all his present
master’s effects, though “the old fool” Johnson might go on to Jarra.
Park was completely overwhelmed at the idea of his faithful boy being
sent back to such a life of misery as would be his lot in the household
of Ali. Unable to say a word to the messenger, he ran straight to the
chief himself, and his indignation for once getting the better of him,
he upbraided him in passionate language for the new injustice he was
about to commit, compared to which all else was in his eyes as nothing.
To this generous but unwise outburst Ali made no reply, beyond ordering
him, with haughty air and malignant smile, to mount his horse
immediately or be sent back likewise. Terrible was the struggle in
Park’s inmost soul to refrain from ridding the world of such a monster,
and giving vent to all the suppressed feelings of the last two months
in one passionate outburst.
Happily he had not lost complete control over himself nor the ability
to comprehend his situation, and he retired from the tent a prey to a
hundred harassing emotions.
“Poor Demba was not less affected than myself. He had formed a strong
attachment towards me, and had a cheerfulness of disposition which
often beguiled the tedious hours of captivity.” But part they must. “So
having shaken hands with the unfortunate boy, and blended my tears with
his, I saw him led off by three of Ali’s slaves towards the camp at
Bubaker.”
On the 1st of June, Jarra was once more re-entered, and Park became
again the guest of the slatee. Everything else now became subordinate
for the time being to the one object of procuring the liberty of Demba.
Before this duty even his own escape became of secondary importance.
All his attempts were ineffectual, however. Ali could not be prevailed
upon to sell or return his new-made slave, though he never ceased to
hold out hopes that Demba might yet be let off for a consideration.
On the 8th, Ali with his horsemen returned to camp to celebrate a
festival, Park, to his great joy, being left behind in the house of the
slatee. Once more he began to think of his own safety, seeing that now
it was proved beyond a doubt he could be of no use to Demba.
Meanwhile troubles began to gather rapidly round Jarra. Ali, after
securing the price of his co-operation, treacherously left his allies
to their fate. Daisy with his army was rapidly approaching the town,
whose inhabitants could expect no mercy from their enraged king.
Finding themselves left to their own resources, the latter made such
preparation as was in their power to defend themselves, at the same
time sending away their women and children, with such corn and cattle
as they could take with them. Park prepared to depart along with these.
He saw clearly that if he continued where he was he would run the risk
of being involved in the general slaughter if Daisy were successful,
or if the reverse, that he would sooner or later fall a victim to the
Moors. And yet to go forward alone seemed terrible enough--for Johnson
flatly refused to proceed--without means of protection or goods to
purchase the necessaries of life, or an interpreter to make himself
understood in the Bambarra language.
The one comparatively easy road was that to the coast, but “to return
to England without accomplishing the object of my mission was worse
than all.”
The old spirit, never quite killed, was beginning to reassert itself,
with the enjoyment of a certain measure of free will and liberty.
Whatever was to be his fate, he should meet it, he determined, with his
face towards the Niger.
On the night of the 26th, the women worked incessantly, preparing food
and packing articles that were not absolutely necessary for the flight.
Early in the morning they took the road for Bambarra.
The exodus was affecting in the extreme--the women and children
weeping, the men sullen and dejected--all of them looking back with
regret to the spot where they had passed their lives, and shuddering
at the possible fate before them. Amid many heartrending scenes Park
mounted his horse, and taking a large bag of corn before him, set forth
with the flying multitude.
In this fashion he travelled onward for two days, accompanied so far by
Johnson and the slatee. At Koiro a halt of two days had to be made to
recruit his half-starved animal--an unfortunate delay, since it gave
time for Ali’s chief slave and four Moors to arrive in quest of their
white prisoner. This new calamity had to be met with prompt action
if Park was not to face an indefinite period of miserable captivity.
At once he resolved to escape by flight--a “measure which I thought
offered the only chance of saving my life and gaining the object of my
mission.”
Johnson was ready to applaud his master’s resolution, but flatly
refused to join him.
The Moors, thinking the white man safe, did not trouble themselves
about him, and he was thus able to prepare a few articles to take with
him. Two suits of clothes and a pair of boots were all he possessed.
He had not now a single bead or other article of commercial value to
purchase food for himself.
About daybreak the Moors were all asleep. Now was the time to make
good his opportunity. Liberty and possible success were in the balance
with renewed captivity and possible death. A cold sweat moistened his
forehead as the importance of the step he was about to take was brought
with twofold force to his consciousness. But to deliberate was to lose
the only chance of escape. He must make one more bold attempt to regain
liberty and reach the Niger. The thought was inspiration. He picked up
his bundle, stepped stealthily over the sleeping negroes, and reached
his horse. Johnson was bidden farewell, and once more begged to take
particular care of the papers entrusted to him, and to inform his
friends on the Gambia “that he had left me in good health, on my way to
Bambarra.”
A few years before, Major Houghton had sent an almost identical message
to the same Gambian friends.