On the morning on which zu Pfeiffer burned the village of Yagonyana,
Birnier was encamped upon the southern boundary of Wongolo. By his “coup
de superstition” had he recovered all his equipment except several bottles
of brandy, some canned goods and two and a half pairs of pyjamas; also the
field boots. The noble Inyira, son of Banyala, and his merry men never
attempted to recapture their prisoners; no one save the Eater-of-Men in
person could have persuaded them to return to that camp even had they had
their rifles.
After Birnier had dressed his own foot and the charred feet of his men,
had had a good drink and a better meal, he had sought to address the
balance of his mind through a medium designed for the cure of melancholy,
but efficacious for many other ills, _The Anatomy of Melancholy_. He
opened the one big volume which had been his companion throughout his
travels at a page marked at haphazard by an ivory paper knife with the
American flag upon the flat hilt, an early gift from Lucille, and began to
read the remarks of Robert Burton of quaintly glorious memory upon the
source of his late adventure.
“Those which are jealous, most part, if they be not otherwise relieved,
proceed from suspicion to hatred, from hatred to frenzy, madness, injury,
murder and despair … Amestris, Xerxes’s wife, because she found her
husband’s cloak in Masista’s house, cut off Masista’s wife’s paps and gave
them to the dogs, flayed her besides and cut off her ears, lips, tongue,
and slit the nose of Artaynta, her daughter.”
“Cheerful lady! She ought to have been zu Pfeiffer’s wife,” commented
Birnier and went to sleep.
Birnier arose feeling rational enough to reconsider his position. The
recollection of the signature on the photograph now failed to stimulate
the emotional reaction as once it had done. The experience through which
he had passed had had a beneficial effect in breaking or disconnecting the
train of suggestive images. At first in the recess of his mind had lurked
the desire to abandon everything, to rush straight to Lucille to demand an
explanation. Now the rising sun of reason cast quite different shadows
upon the incident. The high light was the fact that should he do so he
would be sacrificing his mission for what might prove to be ridiculous. As
his mind contemplated the subject the echo of “à toi, Lucille” tended to
carry a high note, but this he vented by writing a long letter to Lucille
recounting the facts and frankly admitting that he had been sufficiently
insane with jealousy to “go up in the air.” Once or twice he ceased to
write and gazed anxiously into the glare as his imagination suggested the
long period of waiting for an answer, wondering whether the echo of that
cursed “à toi” might not become unbearably shrill. He became a little more
sentimental towards the end of the letter, remarking that perhaps he had
been wrong in deserting her for so long and emphasising the rather
ridiculous point that he was aware that he was not a young man. However,
he let it remain, and at the first opportunity sent off the letter by
runner to the nearest station in Uganda, together with an order for
certain goods to be sent to a village on the Wongolo border.
Although still inclined to be emotional over the photograph, Birnier did
not waste any energy over vindictive thoughts upon zu Pfeiffer, whom he
philosophically regarded as irresponsible for his actions, inasmuch as he
had been made that way just as any savage. He had gotten out of the toils
set for him, so why should he spend time and trouble in seeking revenge
which would merely consist in reporting the incident through a British
station to Washington, who would open up interminable polite
correspondence with the German Embassy, who would again write prodigious
letters to the Colonial Minister in Berlin, who would… Ludicrous! No; he
would not permit zu Pfeiffer to interfere with his plans. He would
continue straight to Wongolo instead of investigating the Kivu country,
where zu Pfeiffer might perhaps have another opportunity to cause more
trouble. Accordingly he negotiated with the nearest village for carriers
and set out, striking due west, thus approaching the Wongolo territory
towards the southern boundary.
The people to the south of the Wongolo country was an inferior race, whom
the Wongolo periodically raided to replenish their slaves. These Wamongo
were split up into several petty chiefdoms, usually at war with one
another. They had no defined theology. For they had not progressed beyond
the stage of magic as far as any concept of religion, that is of praying
for intercession to any power greater than themselves; whereas the mental
state of the Wongolo was half-way between magic and religion, mixing and
confusing the two as exemplified in the Rain-making ceremony of employing
magic and alternately invoking the god and threatening him with dire
penalties if he did not behave. There seemed to be no royal family or clan
of the Wamongo; chiefs changed constantly as one more powerful for the
moment arose; the wizards did not appear to have any political power,
acting as general physicians and confining their efforts apparently to
simple magic for the growing of corn, the curing of the evil eye and
wounds. They were terrified of the Wongolo, much to Mungongo’s pride, who
never let slip an opportunity of swaggering and bruiting abroad the fame
of his master as the greatest of magicians the world had ever seen. Never
was he tired of relating to a grunting audience the terrible sight and
effect of his master’s transposition into a spirit. The yarn lost nothing
in the telling.
Progress was slow. Every afternoon, as regular as the sun set, clouds of
sepia sailed up from the west to clothe the world in a grey deluge of
falling water. Fortunately they were travelling up a watershed so that
there were no large rivers to cross. As they approached the Wongolo border
rumours began of a white god with eyes upon his hands and live fire in his
mouth who, so said the delighted Wamongo, had entirely eaten up the hated
Wongolo. They seemed prepared to accept Birnier, when suggesting that he
should make magic for them to conquer the Wongolo, as another terrible
white god, and were accordingly polite. But Mungongo, vastly indignant,
denied the story; according to him, no power on earth could have subdued
his race, except perhaps the mighty Moonspirit (the name he had bestowed
upon Birnier).
But when Birnier arrived at the first village of the Wongolo the absence
of warriors corroborated the wild tales they had heard. The inhabitants of
old men, boys and women surrounded the camp to gaze in awestruck curiosity
at the white whom they believed to be the brother of the
Eyes-in-the-hands. This calumny Mungongo strenuously gainsaid, and anew
recounted the marvellous feats of magic of Moonspirit who could, he
assured his compatriots, eat up Eyes-in-the-hands as easily as a crocodile
would swallow a goat. Yet in spite of their terror they insisted that
Birnier must go through the ceremony of purification incumbent upon all
strangers in order to exorcise the evil influence of their eyes and souls;
also the customary present must be sent to the king and his august
permission to enter awaited, although no man knew where he was since the
capital had been burned. Mungongo waxed furious. He informed them that
Moonspirit was a friend of the Son-of-the-Snake, and moreover had before
been in the country; that if they vexed Moonspirit he would enchant the
whole village so that no man could move hand or foot. No matter, said
they, that was the rule and must be done. They were impressed but
obstinate.
From the description of this destroying god, who was the colour of a
stripped banana and tall as a palm tree, had fire in his mouth and eyes
upon his hands—it was some time before he could recognise the “eyes”—and
whose companions were devils strangely clothed, dragging horrific monsters
who spat earthquakes, Birnier had no difficulty in recognising zu
Pfeiffer, and recollected the significant pumping at dinner regarding the
Wongolo country. However he had renounced any idea of revenge, but the
discovery of friend zu Pfeiffer as the terrifying god amused him:
quickened a desire to overset the gentleman’s plans. He smiled with a
slight hardening of the line about his mouth as he began to consider what
might be done.
As far as he could estimate by recalling the size of the native barracks
at Fort Ingonya, he reckoned that zu Pfeiffer could not possibly have more
than three hundred men, unless he had been reinforced from the east.
Roughly he calculated that the Wongolo ought to be able to put about ten
thousand warriors in the field. That number under any sort of leadership,
even though they were only armed with spears and swords, should wipe out
the three hundred, in spite of the discipline and two or three
machine-guns, by sheer weight of numbers. But, from what he had already
heard, zu Pfeiffer had evidently caught them unprepared, wiped out a mass
and secured a supernatural effect by destroying the idol. He remembered
his talk on das Volkliches and his comment that zu Pfeiffer was unusually
well informed upon the psychology of the native mind.
During two days disputing in the native manner news came in of fresh
massacres, adding to the general terror. He sent for the headman and with
him held a long shauri. The result was that the old fellow conceived the
wonderful idea, already suggested by his lesser brethren, of enlisting the
services of this white man, reputed to be a most marvellous magician, in
their protection.
Then having had his wits sharpened by his own originality and a sheath
knife, the headman promptly discovered that the ceremony of exorcism could
not be performed because the local wizard had departed with every ounce of
magic for the front. Still there were obstinate and fearful persons who
wished that Birnier should send a message to the king and wait until he
had the permission. Another two days were lost until this objection was
overcome by certain presents of “bafta,” destined for the king, being
handed over to the village.
On the week’s march across Wongolo, Mungongo triumphantly held spellbound
audiences at every village through which they passed. As they neared the
site of the City of the Snake, where they heard zu Pfeiffer was encamped,
they encountered deserted villages. When they came upon the smouldering
embers of one Birnier consented to turn aside from the regular trail in
order to pass to the west of Kawa Kendi’s where, so the natives said, were
Zalu Zako and Bakahenzie.
Beyond a belt of forest was open rolling country. They came to a village
of five huts where dwelt some herdsmen, although most of the cattle had
been driven westwards. Mungongo, seeking at Birnier’s suggestion for some
one who had actually been present at the village when zu Pfeiffer
attacked, discovered a young girl who had escaped. He brought the daughter
of Bakala into the presence of Moonspirit still pathetically clutching the
amulet which Marufa had sold her. But from Bakuma, who had fled to the
forest at the first assault and afterwards to this herdsmen’s village
where the fact of the tabu would not yet have penetrated, Birnier could
interpret little of value. Of the whereabouts of Zalu Zako she knew no
more than the peasants. She remembered Infunyana, as he had been called on
his previous visit to the City of the Snake, and to her it seemed that a
god had descended from the blue sky personally to aid her. So utterly
incomprehensible and terrifying had the attack appeared that unconsciously
the inevitability of her doom was shaken; if such things could happen, she
felt rather than thought, then who could say what else was possible? She
asked permission to travel with Moonspirit. Birnier, who knew from her
dress, or lack of it, that she was unmarried, smiled as he wondered
whether she was seeking her lover.
Throughout their journey they had not met a single warrior; but as they
neared the place of the king they began to meet groups of them. At the
sight of the first headdress Bakuma bolted into the grass, nor did she
reappear until after they had gone. Later she came to Birnier and asked
permission to hide within his tent when the warriors appeared, and to his
question began to explain the fate to which she had been doomed. Naturally
this account of the Marriage of the Bride of the Banana at the Harvest
Festival was of value as well as of interest to Birnier, from whom it had
been concealed when in the country before. He cross-questioned her and
made notes; but Bakuma could give him practically no details of what
actually happened, a secret well guarded by the craft.
They looked downcast, these warriors, and were doubtful what to do on
meeting another white. Many had never before seen a white man and were
inclined to bestow upon Moonspirit all the attributes which they had given
to Eyes-in-the-hands. Eh! said they, Eyes-in-the-hands is a more powerful
god than the Unmentionable One, for has he not eaten him up?
Eyes-in-the-hands has imprisoned the thunder and the lightning in a bag
which he looses at will. Who could withstand him? Had they better not
submit before his wrath had eaten them all up? E-eh! man cannot fight with
a god, as any fool knows.
They were returning to their homes to make pilgrimage to the new god, to
propitiate him with oxen and with ivory lest worse befall. However they
knew where Zalu Zako was hidden, also the wizards whose magic was as a
drop of water in a fire. Mungongo did not fail to relate the marvels of
Moonspirit which he had seen with his own eyes, he and those with him. The
warriors listened without being in the least impressed. That, said they,
was merely woman’s magic to what Eyes-in-the-hands could do! Aie-e! had
not they fallen dead in masses at the cough of one of his monster spirits!
Aie-e! had not the look of him burned up the Unmentionable One as a straw
in a fire! Therefore was he not greater than the god? Aie-e! was he not
burning their villages at will! Aie-e, brothers, they must hasten to
appease the wrath of so terrible a god!
Birnier saw that it was useless to attempt to argue with them. Zu
Pfeiffer, with his shrewd stroke at the kernel of their faith in the
symbol of the idol, had established a kind of godhead; and by his
ferocious massacres had thoroughly cowed them. However Birnier secured one
man to guide him to where Zalu Zako, the witch-doctors and those who
remained with him, were in hiding.
On the fringe of the dense forest they camped. The warrior guide went to
acquaint Zalu Zako of their approach, else otherwise the sight of a white
might provoke an attempt at massacre or flight. On the third day the man
returned bearing greetings from Zalu Zako personally who remembered well
Infunyana, the only white man whom he had ever met.
For two days, on a faint trail, in a steamy heat pulsing with chromatic
birds and lizards, they journeyed through the forest, the skirts of the
vast Ituri whose deepest recess is the home of the pygmy. One early
forenoon they were halted by the warrior in apparently trackless jungle
and bidden to camp. Mungongo was indignant, but protest was useless as the
man refused to conduct them any farther, saying that Zalu Zako would come
to them. So the carriers cut a circle and built a zareba and the messenger
was swallowed by the green wall bearing presents of two rifles.