ROYAL OBSEQUIES.
On the following morning the town of Kazonndé presented an aspect of
unwonted desolation. Awe-struck at the event of the previous evening,
the natives had all shut themselves up in their huts. That a monarch
who was to be assumed as of divine origin should perish with one of his
ministers by so horrible a death was a thing wholly unparalleled in
their experience. Some of the elder part of the community remembered
having taken part in certain cannibal preparations, and were aware that
the cremation of a human body is no easy matter, yet here was a case in
which two men had been all but utterly consumed without any extraneous
application. Here was a mystery that baffled all their comprehension.
Old Alvez had also retired to the seclusion of his own residence;
having been warned by Negoro that he would probably be held responsible
for the occurrence, he deemed it prudent to keep in retirement.
Meanwhile Negoro industriously circulated the report that the king's
death had been brought about by supernatural means reserved by the
great Manitoo solely for his elect, and that it was sacred fire that
had proceeded from his body. The superstitious natives readily received
this version of the affair, and at once proceeded to honour Moené
Loonga with funeral rites worthy of one thus conspicuously elevated to
the rank of the gods. The ceremony (which entailed an expenditure of
human blood incredible except that it is authenticated by Cameron and
other African travellers) was just the opportunity that Negoro required
for carrying out his designs against Dick, whom he intended to take a
prominent part in it.
The natural successor to the king was the queen Moena. By inaugurating
the funeral without delay and thus assuming the semblance of authority,
she forestalled the king of Ukusu or any other rival who might venture
to dispute her sovereignty; and moreover, by taking the reins of
government into her hands she avoided the fate reserved for the other
wives who, had they been allowed to live, might prove somewhat
troublesome to the shrew. Accordingly, with the sound of coodoo horns
and marimbas, she caused a proclamation to be made in the various
quarters of the town, that the obsequies of the deceased monarch would
be celebrated on the next evening with all due solemnity.
The announcement met with no opposition either from the officials about
the court or from the public at large. Alvez and the traders generally
were quite satisfied with Moena's assumption of the supremacy, knowing
that by a few presents and a little flattery they could make her
sufficiently considerate for their own interests.
Preparations began at once. At the end of the chief thoroughfare flowed
a deep and rapid brook, an affluent of the Coango, in the dry bed of
which the royal grave was to be formed. Natives were immediately set to
work to construct a dam by means of which the water should be diverted,
until the burial was over, into a temporary channel across the plain;
the last act in the ceremonial being to undam the stream and allow it
to resume its proper course.
Negoro had formed the resolution that Dick Sands should be one of the
victims to be sacrificed upon the king's tomb. Thoroughly aware as he
was that the indignation which had caused the death of Harris extended
in at least an equal degree to himself, the cowardly rascal would not
have ventured to approach Dick under similar circumstances at the risk
of meeting a similar fate; but knowing him to be a prisoner bound hand
and foot, from whom there could be nothing to fear, he resolved to go
to him in his dungeon-*
Not only did he delight in torturing his victims, but he derived an
especial gratification from witnessing the torture.
About the middle of the day, accordingly, he made his way to the cell
where Dick was detained under the strict watch of a havildar. There,
bound with fetters that penetrated his very flesh, lay the poor boy;
for the last four and twenty hours he had not been allowed a morsel of
food, and would gladly have faced the most painful death as a welcome
relief to his miseries.
But at the sight of Negoro all his energy revived; instinctively he
made an effort to burst his bonds, and to get a hold upon his
persecutor; but the strength of a giant would have been utterly
unavailing for such a design. Dick felt that the struggle he had to
make was of another kind, and forcing himself to an apparent composure,
he determined to look Negoro straight in the face, but to vouchsafe no
reply to anything he might say.
"I felt bound," Negoro began, "to come and pay my respects to my young
captain, and to tell him how sorry I am that he has not the same
authority here that he had on board the 'Pilgrim.'"
Finding that Dick returned no answer, he continued,--
"You remember your old cook, captain: I have come to know what you
would like to order for your breakfast."
Here he paused to give a brutal kick at Dick's foot, and went on,--
"I have also another question to ask you, captain; can you tell me how
it was that you landed here in Angola instead of upon the coast of
America?"
The way in which the question was put more than ever confirmed Dick's
impression that the "Pilgrim's" course had been altered by Negoro, but
he persevered in maintaining a contemptuous silence.
"It was a lucky thing for you, captain," resumed the vindictive
Portuguese, "that you had a good seaman on board, otherwise the ship
would have run aground on some reef in the tempest, instead of coming
ashore here in a friendly port."
[Illustration: "Your life is in my hands!"]
Whilst he was speaking, Negoro had gradually drawn nearer to the
prisoner, until their faces were almost in contact. Exasperated by
Dick's calmness, his countenance assumed an expression of the utmost
ferocity, and at last he burst forth in a paroxysm of rage.
"It is my turn now! I am master now! I am captain here! You are in my
power now! Your life is in my hands!"
"Take it, then," said Dick quietly; "death has no terrors for me, and
your wickedness will soon be avenged."
"Avenged!" roared Negoro; "do you suppose there is a single soul to
care about you? Avenged! who will concern himself with what befalls
you? except Alvez and me, there is no one with a shadow of authority
here; if you think you are going to get any help from old Tom or any of
those niggers, let me tell you that they are every one of them sold and
have been sent off to Zanzibar."
"Hercules is free," said Dick.
"Hercules!" sneered Negoro; "he has been food for lions and panthers
long ago, I am only sorry that I did not get the chance of disposing of
him myself."
"And there is Dingo," calmly persisted Dick; "sure as fate, he will
find you out some day."
"Dingo is dead!" retorted Negoro with malicious glee: "I shot the brute
myself, and I should be glad if every survivor of the 'Pilgrim' had
shared his fate."
"But remember," said Dick, "you have to follow them all yourself;" and
he fixed a sharp gaze upon his persecutor's eye.
The Portuguese villain was stung to the quick; he made a dash towards
the youth, and would have strangled him upon the spot, but remembering
that any such sudden action would be to liberate him from the torture
he was determined he should undergo, he controlled his rage, and after
giving strict orders to the havildar, who had been a passive spectator
of the scene, to keep a careful watch upon his charge, he left the
dungeon.
So far from depressing Dick's spirits, the interview had altogether a
contrary effect; his feelings had undergone a reaction, so that all his
energies were restored. Possibly Negoro in his sudden assault had
unintentionally loosened his fetters, for he certainly seemed to have
greater play for his limbs, and fancied that by a slight effort he
might succeed in disengaging his arms. Even that amount of freedom,
however, he knew could be of no real avail to him; he was a
closely-guarded prisoner, without hope of succour from without; and now
he had no other wish than cheerfully to meet the death that should
unite him to the friends who had gone before.
The hours passed on. The gleams of daylight that penetrated the
thatched roof of the prison gradually faded into darkness; the few
sounds on the chitoka, a great contrast to the hubbub of the day,
became hushed into silence, and night fell upon the town of Kazonndé.
Dick Sands slept soundly for about a couple of hours, and woke up
considerably refreshed. One of his arms, which was somewhat less
swollen than the other, he was able to withdraw from its bonds; it was
at any rate a relief to stretch it at his pleasure.
The havildar, grasping the neck of a brandy-bottle which he had just
drained, had sunk into a heavy slumber, and Dick Sands was
contemplating the possibility of getting posssession of his gaoler's
weapons when his attention was arrested by a scratching at the bottom
of the door. By the help of his liberated arm he contrived to crawl
noiselessly to the threshold, where the scratching increased in
violence. For a moment he was in doubt whether the noise proceeded from
the movements of a man or an animal. He gave a glance at the havildar,
who was sound asleep, and placing his lips against the door murmured
"Hercules!"
A low whining was the sole reply.
"It must be Dingo," muttered Dick to himself; "Negoro may have told me
a lie; perhaps, after all, the dog is not dead."
As though in answer to his thoughts, a dog's paw was pushed below the
door. Dick seized it eagerly; he had no doubt it was Dingo's; but if
the dog brought a message, it was sure to be tied to his neck, and
there seemed to be no means of getting at it, except the hole
underneath could be made large enough to admit the animal's head. Dick
determined to try and scrape away the soil at the threshold, and
commenced digging with his nails. But he had scarcely set himself to
his task when loud barkings, other than Dingo's, were heard in the
distance. The faithful creature had been scented out by the native
dogs, and instinct dictated an immediate flight. Alarm had evidently
been taken, as several gun-shots were fired; the havildar half roused
himself from his slumber, and Dick was fain to roll himself once more
into his corner, there to await the dawn of the day which was intended
to be his last.
[Illustration: All his energies were restored.]
Throughout that day, the grave-digging was carried on with unremitted
activity. A large number of the natives, under the superintendence of
the queen's prime minister, were set to work, and according to the
decree of Moena, who seemed resolved to continue the rigorous sway of
her departed husband, were bound, under penalty of mutilation, to
accomplish their task within the proscribed time.
As soon as the stream had been diverted into its temporary channel,
there was hollowed out in the dry river bed a pit, fifty feet long, ten
feet wide, and ten feet deep. This, towards the close of the day, was
lined throughout with living women, selected from Moené Loonga's
slaves; in ordinary cases it would have been their fate to be buried
alive beside their master; but in recognition of his miraculous death
it was ordained that they should be drowned beside his remains.[1]
[Footnote 1: The horrible hecatombs that commemorate the death of any
powerful chief in Central Africa defy all description. Cameron relates
that more than a hundred victims were sacrificed at the obsequies of
the father of the King of Kassongo.]
Generally, the royal corpse is arrayed in its richest vestments before
being consigned to the tomb, but in this case, when the remains
consisted only of a few charred bones, another plan was adopted. An
image of the king, perhaps rather flattering to the original, was made
of wicker-work; inside this were placed the fragments of bones and
skin, and the effigy itself was then arrayed in the robes of state,
which, as already mentioned, were not of a very costly description.
Cousin Benedict's spectacles were not forgotten, but were firmly
affixed to the countenance of the image. The masquerade had its
ludicrous as well as its terrible side.
When the evening arrived, a long procession was seen wending its way to
the place of interment; the uproar was perfectly deafening; shouts,
yells, the boisterous incantations of the musicians, the clang of
musical instruments, and the reports of many old muskets, mingled in
wild confusion.
The ceremony was to take place by torch-light, and the whole population
of Kazonndé, native and otherwise, was bound to be present. Alvez,
Coïmbra, Negoro, the Arab dealers and their havildars all helped to
swell the numbers, the queen having given express orders that no one
who had been at the lakoni should leave the town, and it was not deemed
prudent to disobey her commands.
The remains of the king were carried in a palanquin in the rear of the
cortége, surrounded by the wives of the second class, some of whom were
doomed to follow their master beyond the tomb. Queen Moena, in state
array, marched behind the catafalque.
Night was well advanced when the entire procession reached the banks of
the brook, but the resin-torches, waved on high by their bearers, shed
a ruddy glare upon the teeming crowd. The grave, with its lining of
living women, bound to its side by chains, was plainly visible; fifty
slaves, some resigned and mute, others uttering loud and piteous cries,
were there awaiting the moment when the rushing torrent should be
opened upon them.
The wives who were destined to perish had been selected by the queen
herself and were all in holiday-attire. One of the victims, who bore
the title of second wife, was forced down upon her hands and knees in
the grave, in order to form a resting-place for the effigy, as she had
been accustomed to do for the living sovereign; the third wife had to
sustain the image in an upright position, and the fourth lay down at
its feet to make a footstool.
In front of the effigy, at the end of the grave, a huge stake, painted
red, was planted firmly in the earth. Bound to this stake, his body
half naked, exhibiting marks of the tortures which by Negoro's orders
he had already undergone, friendless and hopeless, was Dick Sands!
[Illustration: Friendless and hopeless.]
The time, however, for opening the flood-gate had not yet arrived.
First of all, at a sign from the queen, the fourth wife, forming the
royal footstool had her throat cut by an executioner, her blood
streaming into the grave. This barbarous deed was the commencement of a
most frightful butchery. One after another, fifty slaves fell beneath
the slaughterous knife, until the river-bed was a very cataract of
blood. For half an hour the shrieks of the victims mingled with the
imprecations of their murderers, without evoking one single expression
of horror or sympathy from the gazing crowd around.
At a second signal from the queen, the barrier, which retained the
water above, was opened. By a refinement of cruelty the torrent was not
admitted suddenly to the grave, but allowed to trickle gradually in.
The first to be drowned were the slaves that carpeted the bottom of the
trench, their frightful struggles bearing witness to the slow death
that was overpowering them. Dick was immersed to his knees, but he
could be seen making what might seem one last frantic effort to burst
his bonds.
Steadily rose the water; the stream resumed its proper course; the last
head disappeared beneath its surface, and soon there remained nothing
to indicate that in the depth below there was a tomb where a hundred
victims had been sacrificed to the memory of the King of Kazonndé.
Painful as they are to describe, it is impossible to ignore the reality
of such scenes.