SELIM--HAPPY DAYS--THE LOVER'S SONG--THE MAGIC DOCTOR SOLTALI--KALULU
PROPOSES TO HUNT ELEPHANTS--PREPARATIONS FOR A DANCE--THE HUNTING-SONG--
THE ELEPHANT HUNTERS SET OUT--THE SCENES ON THE MARCH--THE HUNTERS'
DAMP--TEN ELEPHANTS!--KALULU ADDRESSES THE KING ELEPHANT--THE KING
ELEPHANT DIES--SELIM'S CONDUCT IN THE FIELD--KALULU IS ASTONISHED AT
SELIM'S PROWESS.
Selim was now happy; and next to being able to reach his own Zanjian
Isle, and revisit the scenes of his childhood, and romp, as of yore,
with the playmates of his youth, and enjoy walks through the
orange-groves with young Abdullah, he could not have chosen for himself
a more tranquil life than that which he now enjoyed with his friend and
new brother, Kalulu.
For the bright Liemba River was beautiful, though brown; its crisp
little wavelets, where they washed over stone and pebble in the
shallower parts, had music for him, though he never forgot that horrible
scene near the island, when the smiling face of Abdullah changed into
one of horror and sank down into the depths, with his shriek echoing
through the woods.
The banks of the Liemba became for him a frequent resort, for Kalulu had
made it generally known to all that he was his brother, and no Mtuta
under the King Katalambula might molest him. Hence, he wandered where
he pleased, finding charms in the wild woods, and in the depths of
waving grain, in the peaceful, still life that reigned around, in the
music of the birds, and even in the harsh cries of paroquets.
The Selim, the brother of Kalulu, was not the Selim of Zanzibar, but was
the product of him, refined and pure from the fiery crucible of the
unusual hardships he had endured. It was the same boy, but not the same
heart. He, whom we knew at Zanzibar, the gay, light-hearted, sunny
youth, playing with the females in the harem and his playmates on the
beach, but ever listening in wonder to the great, wise words and sayings
of white men, was changed for the dreamy boy with the poet's heart, who
chose solitudes, forests, and the depths of tall corn-stalks to indulge
in reverie, which we are too apt to ascribe to melancholy. Perhaps it
was melancholy, a tender, soft melancholy, engendered by many
reminiscences of a mournful nature, crowding together in the mind of a
boy who had suffered much, but who had seen but few years. There was
the death of a loving father and loving kinsmen, the tragic fate of Isa
and Mussoud, the most narrow escape he had himself from death, and poor
Abdullah's narrow escape from a horrible fate. These were not the best
kind of subjects to dwell in the mind of a boy of Selim's years; but
what aided to soften all these, and did much to lighten his burden, was
his present position, the tender friendship of Kalulu, the company of
the gentle Abdullah, the calm tranquillity of the life he was now
enjoying, and the consciousness--which his perfect trust in the goodness
of God created--that there was a God above, who was both good and great,
and who would bring him in his own good time out of all trouble.
For many days Abdullah suffered from the wounds which the crocodile's
sharp teeth had made in his leg. High fever set in, during which time
he was attended by Simba, and Moto, Kalulu, and Selim.
All sport was at an end for Selim and Kalulu while their friend Abdullah
was thus suffering. Nothing of enjoyment was thought of, nothing could
be thought of but their poor young patient, whose constitution was
battling vigorously against the fever which threatened often to
terminate his life.
And what a time poor Abdullah had! Instead of the soft, silken
counterpane and feathered bolsters, and the fragrance of lime and orange
of his own comfortable home at Zanzibar, here were a mud-hut, low roof
of straw and mud, a goatskin for his bed, a low door of cane-stalks,
through which the white sunlight streamed hot and glaring, voices of a
thousand rats for music, and the bad smells caused by the indecent
habits of savages, for the perfume of ripe orange and cinnamon. All
these aggravated the fever and created hideous dreams at night. For
food he had a thin gruel, which Simba made for him to the best of his
ability; for drink, the muddy water of the Liemba or some pombe-beer.
Despite these, however, his constitution triumphed; the fever left him,
and the wounded leg, carefully bathed each morning by Simba, began to
heal.
When convalescent, Abdullah would leave his hut at evening, pale and
thin as a ghost, leaning on the arm of his true friends, Kalulu and
Selim, to enjoy the mild air, and to listen to the songs of the Watuta,
and the sonorous music of the drums. The sight of the pale and thin
Arab boy touched the heart of many a maternal bosom, and many were the
expressions of condolence which he received from them. He often heard
these dark-faced women utter expressions which he had never thought at
Zanzibar could ever be uttered by black women; and he was rapidly
beginning to learn that women are the same all over the world, whether
they are white or black, and that human love and kindness belong as much
to the black as to the white, and are as often practised. And the
outcast, despised negro race were rising daily in his estimation.
Neither was Selim indifferent to the tones of sympathy he heard from
them; not only did Kalulu win his friendship more and more each day, but
the whole negro race was being admitted into his brotherhood.
These were really happy days. Abdullah was improving each day, and
Selim was fast becoming as joyous a companion as Kalulu could desire.
Inspired by the invigorating sound of the drums, and the lively chorus,
he was compelled to leave the side of Abdullah and join in the dance. A
favourite song of the Watuta was the boatmen's song, which seemed
interminable; but the chorus was so pretty, and had such a sweet,
pathetic melody, that Selim joined with pleasure in it for its pathos.