NOTES BY THE WAY.
The storm of the preceding evening had now passed away, but the sky was
still cloudy and the weather far from settled. It was the 19th of
April, the time of the _masika_, or second period of the rainy season,
so that for the next two or three weeks the nights might be expected to
be wet.
On leaving the banks of the Coanza the caravan proceeded due east.
Soldiers marched at the head and in the rear, as well as upon the
flanks of the troop; any escape of the prisoners, therefore, even if
they had not been loaded with their fetters, would have been utterly
impossible. They were all driven along without any attempt at order,
the havildars using their whips unsparingly upon them whenever they
showed signs of flagging. Some poor mothers could be seen carrying two
infants, one on each arm, whilst others led by the hand naked children,
whose feet were sorely cut by the rough ground over which they had trod.
Ibn Hamish, the Arab who had interfered between Dick and the havildar,
acted as commander to the caravan, and was here, there, and everywhere;
not moved in the least by the sufferings of the captives, but obliged
to be attentive to the importunities of the soldiers and porters, who
were perpetually clamouring for extra rations, or demanding an
immediate halt. Loud were the discussions that arose, and the uproar
became positively deafening when the quarrelsome voices rose above the
shrieks of the slaves, many of whom found themselves treading upon soil
already stained by the blood of the ranks in front.
[Illustration: If ever the havildar strolled a few yards away, Bat took
the opportunity of murmuring a few words of encouragement to this poor
old father.]
No chance again opened for Dick to get any communication with his
friends, who had been sent to the van of the procession. Urged on by
the whip they continued to march in single file, their heads in the
heavy forks. If ever the havildar strolled a few yards away, Bat took
the opportunity of murmuring a few words of encouragement to his poor
old father, while he tried to pick out the easiest path for him, and to
relax the pace to suit his enfeebled limbs. Large tears rolled down old
Tom's cheeks when he found that his son's efforts only resulted in
bringing down upon his back some sharp cuts of the havildar's whip.
Actæon and Austin, subject to hardly less brutality, followed a few
steps behind, but all four could not help feeling envious at the luck
of Hercules, who might have dangers to encounter, but at least had his
liberty.
Immediately upon their capture, Tom had revealed to his companions the
fact that they were in Africa, and informing them how they had been
betrayed by Harris, made them understand that they had no mercy to
expect.
Old Nan had been placed amongst a group of women in the central ranks.
She was chained to a young mother with two children, the one at the
breast, the other only three years old, and scarcely able to walk.
Moved by compassion, Nan took the little one into her own arms, thus
not only saving it from fatigue, but from the blows it would very
likely have received for lagging behind. The mother shed tears of
gratitude, but the weight was almost too much for Nan's strength, and
she felt as if she must break down under her self-imposed burden. She
thought fondly of little Jack, and imagining him borne along in the
arms of his weary mother, could not help asking herself whether she
should ever see him or her kind mistress again.
Far in the rear, Dick could not see the head of the caravan except
occasionally, when the ground was rather on the rise. The voices of the
agents and drivers, harsh and excited as they were, scarcely roused him
from his melancholy reflections. His thoughts were not of himself nor
of his own sufferings; his whole attention was absorbed in looking for
some traces of Mrs. Weldon's progress; if she, too, was being taken to
Kazonndé, her route must also lie this way. But he could discover no
trace of her having been conducted by this line of march, and could
only hope that she was being spared the cruelties which he was himself
witnessing.
The forest extended for about twenty miles to the east of the Coanza,
but whether it was that the trees had been destroyed by the ravages of
insects, or broken down before they had made their growth by being
trampled on by elephants, they were growing much less thickly than in
the immediate vicinity of the river. There were numbers of
cotton-trees, seven or eight feet high, from which are manufactured the
black-and-white striped stuffs that are worn in the interior of the
province; but, upon the whole, progress was not much impeded either by
shrubs or underwood. Occasionally the caravan plunged into jungles of
reeds like bamboos, their stalks an inch in diameter, so tall that only
an elephant or giraffe could have reared above them, and through which
none excepting such as had a very intimate knowledge of the country
could possibly have made their way.
Starting every morning at daybreak they marched till noon, when an
hour's halt was made. Packets of manioc were then unfastened, and doled
out in sparing quantities among the slaves; sometimes, when the
soldiers had plundered some village, a little goat's flesh or some
sweet potatoes were added to the meal; but generally the fatigue,
aggravated by inadequate rest, took away the appetite, and when
meal-time arrived many of the slaves could hardly eat at all. During
the first eight days' march from the Coanza no less than twenty
unfortunate wretches had fallen upon the road, and had been left
behind, a prey to the lions, panthers, and leopards that prowled in the
wake. As Dick heard their roars in the stillness of the night, he
trembled as he thought of Hercules. Nevertheless, had the opportunity
offered itself, he would not for a moment have hesitated in making his
own escape to the wilderness.
[Illustration: The caravan had been attacked on the flank by a dozen or
more crocodiles.]
The two hundred and fifty miles between the river and Kazonndé were
accomplished in what the traders call marches of ten miles each,
including the halts at night and midday. The journey cannot be better
described than by a few rough notes that Dick Sands made upon his way.
_April 25th_.--Saw a village surrounded with bamboo palisading, eight
or nine feet high. Fields round planted with maize, beans, and sorghum.
Two negroes captured, fifteen killed, rest took to flight.
_26th_.--Crossed a torrent 150 yards wide. Bridge formed of trunks of
trees and creepers. Piles nearly gave way; two women fastened to a
fork; one of them, carrying a baby, fell into the water. Water quickly
tinged with blood; crocodiles seen under bridge; risk of stepping into
their very jaws.
_28th_.--Crossed a forest of bauhinias; great trees, the iron-wood of
the Portuguese. Heavy rain; ground sodden; marching difficult. Caught
sight of Nan in the middle of caravan; she was toiling along with a
black child in her arms; the woman with her limping, and blood
trickling from her shoulder.
_29th_.--Camp at night under a huge baobab, with white flowers and
light green leaves. Lions and leopards roaring all night. A soldier
fired at a panther. What has become of Hercules?
_30th_.--Rainy season said to be over till November. First touch of
African winter. Dew very heavy. Plains all flooded. Easterly winds:
difficulty of respiration; susceptibility to fever. No trace of Mrs.
Weldon; cannot tell whether she is ahead. Fear Jack may have a return
of fever.
_May 5th_.--Forced to march several stages across flooded plains, water
up to the waist; many leeches sticking to the skin. Lotus and papyrus
upon higher ground. Great heavy leaves, like cabbages, beneath the
water, make many stumble as they walk. Saw large numbers of little
fish, silurus-species; these are caught by the natives, and sold to the
caravans.
_7th_.--Plain still inundated. Last night, no halting-place to be
found. Marched on through the darkness. Great misery. Except for Mrs.
Weldon, life not worth having; for her sake must hold out. Loud cries
heard. Saw, by the lightning, soldiers breaking large boughs from the
resinous trees that emerged from the water. The caravan had been
attacked on the flank by a dozen or more crocodiles; women and children
seized and carried off to what Livingstone calls their "pasture-lands,"
the holes where they deposit their prey until it is decomposed. Myself
grazed by the scales of one of them. A slave close beside me torn out
of the fork, which was snapped in half. How the poor fellow's cry of
agony rings in my ear! This morning, twenty missing. Tom and the
others, thank God! are still alive. They are on in front. Once Bat made
a sharp turn, and Tom caught sight of me. Nothing to be seen of Nan;
was she, poor creature, one of those that the crocodiles had got?
_8th_.--After twenty-four hours in the water we have crossed the plain.
We have halted on a hill. The sun helps to dry us. Nothing to eat
except a little manioc and a few handfuls of maize. Only muddy water to
drink. Impossible for Mrs. Weldon to survive these hardships; I hope
from my heart that she has been taken some other way. Small-pox has
broken out in the caravan; those that have it are to be left behind.
_9th_.--Started at dawn. No stragglers allowed; sick and weary must be
kept together by havildars' whip; the losses were considerable. Living
skeletons all round. Rejoiced once more to catch sight of Nan. She was
not carrying the child any longer; she was alone; the chain was round
her waist, but she had the loose end thrown over her shoulder. I got
close to her; suppose I am altered, as she did not know me. After I had
called her by name several times she stared at me, and at last said,
"Ah, Mr. Dick, is it you? you will not see me here much longer." Her
cadaverous look pained my very soul, but I tried to speak hopefully.
Poor Nan shook her head. "I shall never see my dear mistress again; no,
nor master Jack; I shall soon die." Anxious to help her, I would gladly
have carried the end of the chain which she had been obliged to bear
because her fellow-prisoner was dead. A rough hand was soon upon my
shoulder; a cruel lash had made Nan retreat to the general crowd,
whilst, at the bidding of an Arab chief, I was hustled back to the very
hindmost rank of the procession. I overheard the word Negoro, in a way
that convinced me that it is under the direction of the Portuguese that
I am subject to this hard indignity.
[Illustration: [**no caption, or it is cut off]]
_11th_.--Last night encamped under some large trees on the skirts of a
forest. Several escaped prisoners recaptured; their punishment
barbarously cruel. Loud roaring of lions and hyenas heard at nightfall,
also snorting of hippopotamuses; probably some lake or water-course not
far off. Tired, but could not sleep; heard a rustling in the grass;
felt sure that something was going to attack me; what could I do? I had
no gun. For Mrs. Weldon's sake, must, if possible, preserve my life.
The night was dark; no moon; two eyes gleamed upon me; I was about to
utter a cry of alarm; fortunately, I suppressed it; the creature that
had sprung to my feet was Dingo! The dog licked my hands all over,
persisting in rubbing his neck against them, evidently to make me feel
there; found a reed fastened to the well-known collar upon which the
initials S.V. had so often awakened our curiosity; breaking open the
reed, I took a note from inside; it was too dark for me to see to read
it. I tried, by caressing Dingo, to detain him; but the dog appeared to
know that his mission with me was at an end; he licked my hands
affectionately, made a sudden bound, and disappeared in the long grass
as mysteriously as he had come. The howling of the wild beasts
increased. How I dreaded that the faithful creature would become their
prey! No more sleep this night for me. It seemed that daylight would
never dawn; at length it broke with the suddenness that marks a
tropical morn. I was able cautiously to read my note; the handwriting,
I knew at a glance, was that of Hercules; there were but a few lines in
pencil:--
"Mrs. Weldon and Jack carried away in a kitanda.
"Harris and Negoro both with them. Mr. Benedict too. Only a few marches
ahead, but cannot be communicated with at present. Found Dingo wounded
by a gun-shot. Dear Mr. Dick, do not despair; keep up your courage. I
may help you yet.
"Your ever true and faithful
"HERCULES."
As far as it went, this intelligence was satisfactory. A kitanda, I
know, is a kind of litter made of dry grass, protected by a curtain,
and carried on the shoulders of two men by a long bamboo. What a relief
to know that Mrs. Weldon and Jack have been spared the miseries of this
dreadful march! May I not indulge the hope of seeing them at Kazonndé?
_12th_.--The prisoners getting more and more weary and worn out.
Blood-stains on the way still more conspicuous. Many poor wretches are
a mass of wounds. One poor woman for two days has carried her dead
child, from which she refuses to be parted.
_16th_.--Small-pox raging; the road strewn with corpses. Still ten days
before we reach Kazonndé. Just passed a tree from which slaves who had
died from hunger were hanging by the neck.
_18th_.--Must not give in, but I am almost exhausted. Rains have
ceased. We are to make what the dealers call _trikesa_, extra marches
in the after-part of the day. Road very steep; runs through _nyassi_,
tall grass of which the stalks scratch my face, and the seeds get under
my tattered clothes and make my skin smart painfully. My boots
fortunately are thick, and have not worn out. More slaves sick and
abandoned to take their chance. Provisions running very short; soldiers
and pagazis must be satisfied, otherwise they desert; consequently the
slaves are all but starved. "They can eat each other," say the agents.
A young slave, apparently in good health, dropped down dead. It made me
think of Livingstone's description of how free-born men, reduced to
slavery, will suddenly press their hand on their side, and die of a
broken heart.
[Illustration: More slaves sick, and abandoned to take their chance.]
_24th_.--Twenty captives, incapable any longer of keeping pace with the
rest, put to death by the havildars, the Arab chief offering no
opposition. Poor old Nan one of the victims of this horrible butchery.
My foot struck her corpse as I passed, but I was not permitted to give
her a decent burial. Poor old Nan! the first of the survivors of the
"Pilgrim" to go to her long rest! Poor old Nan!
Every night I watch for Dingo; but he never comes. Has Hercules nothing
more to communicate? or has any mishap befallen him? If he is alive he
will do what mortal strength can do to aid us.