Black Ivory
Soon after Azinté had been thus happily rescued from the clutches of two of the greatest villains on the East African coast—where villains of the deepest dye are by no means uncommon—Lindsay met Captain Romer of the ‘Firefly’ on the beach, with his first lieutenant Mr Small, who, by the way, happened to be one of the largest men in his ship. The three officers had been invited to dine that day with the Governor, and as there seemed no particular occasion for their putting to sea that night, and a fresh supply of water had to be taken on board, the invitation had been accepted, all the more readily, too, that Captain Romer thought it afforded an opportunity for obtaining further information as to the movements of certain notorious slavers who were said to be thereabouts at that time. Lieutenant Lindsay had been sent ashore at an earlier part of the day, accompanied by one of the sailors who understood Portuguese, and who, being a remarkably intelligent man, might, it was thought, acquire some useful information from some of the people of the town.
“Well, Mr Lindsay, has Jackson been of any use to you?” inquired the captain.
“Not yet,” replied the lieutenant; “at least I know not what he may have done, not having met him since we parted on landing; but I have myself been so fortunate as to rescue a slave-girl under somewhat peculiar circumstances.”
“Truly, a most romantic and gallant affair,” said the captain, laughing, when Lindsay had related the incident, “and worthy of being mentioned in despatches; but I suspect, considering the part that the Senhorina Maraquita played in it and the fact that you only rescued the girl from one slaveholder in order to hand her over to another, the less that is said about the subject the better!—But here comes Jackson. Perhaps he may have learned something about the scoundrels we are in search of.”
The seaman referred to approached and touched his cap.
“What news?” demanded the captain, who knew by the twinkle in Jack’s eye that he had something interesting to report.
“I’ve diskivered all about it sir,” replied the man, with an ill-suppressed chuckle.
“Indeed! come this way. Now, let’s hear what you have to tell,” said the captain, when at a sufficient distance from his boat to render the conversation quite private.
“Well, sir,” began Jackson, “w’en I got up into the town, arter leavin’ Mr Lindsay, who should I meet but a man as had bin a messmate o’ mine aboard of that there Portuguese ship w’ere I picked up a smatterin’ o’ the lingo? Of course we hailed each other and hove-to for a spell, and then we made sail for a grog-shop, where we spliced the main-brace. After a deal o’ tackin’ and beatin’ about, which enabled me to find out that he’d left the sea an’ taken to business on his own account, which in them parts seems to mean loafin’ about doin’ little or nothin’, I went slap into the subject that was uppermost in my mind, and says I to him, says I, they does a deal o’ slavin’ on this here coast, it appears—Black Ivory is a profitable trade, ain’t it? W’y, sir, you should have seen the way he grinned and winked, and opened out on ’em.—‘Black Ivory!’ says he, ‘w’y, Jackson, there’s more slaves exported from these here parts annooally than would fill a good-sized city. I could tell you—but,’ says he, pullin’ up sudden, ‘you won’t split on me, messmate?’ ‘Honour bright,’ says I, ‘if ye don’t call tellin’ my captain splittin’.’ ‘Oh no,’ says he, with a laugh, ‘it’s little I care what he knows, or does to the pirates—for that’s their true name, and murderers to boot—but don’t let it come to the Governor’s ears, else I’m a ruined man.’ I says I wouldn’t and then he goes on to tell me all sorts of hanecdots about their doin’s—that they does it with the full consent of the Governor, who gets head-money for every slave exported; that nearly all the Governors on the coast are birds of the same feather, and that the Governor-General himself, (See Consul McLeod’s Travels in Eastern Africa, volume one page 306.) at Mozambique, winks at it and makes the subordinate Governors pay him tribute. Then he goes on to tell me more about the Governor of this here town, an’ says that, though a kind-hearted man in the main, and very good to his domestic slaves, he encourages the export trade, because it brings him in a splendid revenue, which he has much need of, poor man, for like most, if not all, of the Governors on the coast, he do receive nothin’ like a respectible salary from the Portuguese Government at home, and has to make it up by slave-tradin’.” (See McLeod’s Travels, volume one page 293.)
It must be explained here that British cruisers were, and still are, kept on the east coast of Africa, for the purpose of crushing only the export slave-trade. They claim no right to interfere with “domestic slavery,” an institution which is still legal in the dominions of the Sultan of Zanzibar and in the so-called colonies of Portugal on that coast.
“But that is not the best of it, sir,” continued Jackson, with a respectful smile, “after we’d had our jaw out I goes off along the road by the beach to think a bit what I’d best do, an’ have a smoke—for that’s wot usually sets my brain to work full-swing. Bein’ hot I lay down in the lee of a bush to excogitate. You see, sir, my old messmate told me that there are two men here, the worst characters he ever know’d—ashore or afloat. One they calls Yoosoof—an Arab he is; the other Marizano—he’s a slave-catcher, and an outlaw just now, havin’ taken up arms and rebelled against the Portuguese authorities. Nevertheless these two men are secretly hand and glove with the Governor here, and at this moment there are said to be a lot o’ slaves ready for shipment and only waitin’ till the ‘Firefly’ is out of the way. More than this my friend could not tell, so that’s w’y I went to excogitate.—I beg parding, sir, for being so long wi’ my yarn, but I ain’t got the knack o’ cuttin’ it short, sir, that’s w’ere it is.”
“Never mind, lad; go on to the end of it,” replied the captain. “Did you excogitate anything more?”
“I can’t say as I did, sir, but it was cooriously enough excogitated for me. W’en I was lying there looking through the bush at the bay, I sees two men comin’ along, arm in arm. One of ’em was an Arab. W’en they was near I saw the Arab start; I thought he’d seen me, and didn’t like me. No more did I like him or his comrade. However, I was wrong, for after whisperin’ somethin’ very earnest-like to his friend, who laughed very much; but said nothin’, they came and sat down not far from the bush where I lay. Now, thinks I, it ain’t pleasant to be an eavesdropper, but as I’m here to find out the secrets of villains, and as these two look uncommon like villains, I’ll wait a bit; if they broach business as don’t consarn me or her Majesty the Queen, I’ll sneeze an’ let ’em know I’m here, before they’re properly under weigh; but if they speaks of wot I wants to know, I’ll keep quiet. Well, sir, to my surprise, the Arab—he speaks in bad English, whereby I came to suppose the other was an Englishman, but, if he is, the climate must have spoiled him badly, for I never did see such a ruffian to look at. But he only laughed, and didn’t speak, so I couldn’t be sure. Well, to come to the pint, sir, the Arab said he’d got hold of two shipwrecked Englishmen, whom he meant to put on board of his dhow, at that time lyin’ up a river not three miles off, and full of slaves, take ’em off the coast, seize ’em when asleep, and heave ’em overboard; the reason bein’ that he was afraid, if they was left ashore here, they’d discover the town, which they are ignorant of at present, and give the alarm to our ship, sir, an’ so prevent him gettin’ clear off, which he means to attempt about midnight just after the moon goes down.”
This unexpected information was very gratifying to Captain Romer, who immediately gave orders to get steam up and have everything in readiness to start the moment he should make his appearance on board, at the same time enjoining absolute silence on his lieutenants and Jackson, who all returned to the ‘Firefly,’ chuckling inwardly.
If they had known that the Arab’s information, though partly true, was a ruse; that Jackson had indeed been observed by the keen-eyed Oriental, who had thereupon sat down purposely within earshot, and after a whispered hint to his companion, gave forth such information as would be likely to lead the British cruiser into his snares—speaking in bad English, under the natural impression that the sailor did not understand Portuguese, to the immense amusement of Marizano, who understood the ruse, though he did not understand a single word of what his companion said—had they known all this, we say, it is probable that they would have chuckled less, and—but why indulge in probabilities when facts are before us? The sequel will show that the best-laid plans may fail.
Chapter Three.
Relates the Further Adventures of Harold and Disco, and Lifts the Curtain a Little Higher in Regard to the Slave-Trade
So Captain Romer and his lieutenants went to dine with the worthy Governor Senhor Francisco Alfonso Toledo Bignoso Letotti, while Yoosoof returned to the creek to carry out his deep-laid plans.
In regard to the dinner, let it suffice to observe that it was good, and that the Governor was urbane, hospitable, communicative, and every way agreeable. It is probable that if he had been trained in another sphere and in different circumstances he might have been a better man. As things stood, he was unquestionably a pleasant one, and Captain Romer found it hard to believe that he was an underhand schemer.
Nothing could exceed the open way in which Senhor Letotti condemned the slave-trade, praised the English for their zeal in attempting to suppress it, explained that the King of Portugal and the Sultan of Zanzibar were equally anxious for its total extinction, and assured his guests that he would do everything that lay in his power to further their efforts to capture the guilty kidnappers, and to free the poor slaves!
“But, my dear sir,” said he, at the conclusion of an emphatic declaration of sympathy, “the thing is exceedingly difficult. You are aware that Arab traders swarm upon the coast, that they are reckless men, who possess boats and money in abundance, that the trade is very profitable, and that, being to some extent real traders in ivory, palm-oil, indigo, and other kinds of native produce, these men have many ruses and methods—what you English call dodges—whereby they can deceive even the most sharp-sighted and energetic. The Arabs are smart smugglers of negroes—very much as your people who live in the Scottish land are smart smugglers of the dew of the mountain—what your great poet Burns speaks much of—I forget its name—it is not easy to put them down.”
After dinner, Senhor Letotti led the officers into his garden, and showed them his fruit-trees and offices, also his domestic slaves, who looked healthy, well cared for, and really in some degree happy.
He did not, however, tell his guests that being naturally a humane man, his slaves were better treated than any other slaves in the town. He did not remind them that, being slaves, they were his property, his goods and chattels, and that he possessed the right and the power to flay them alive if so disposed. He did not explain that many in the town were so disposed; that cruelty grows and feeds upon itself; that there were ladies and gentlemen there who flogged their slaves—men, women, and children—nearly to the death; that one gentleman of an irascible disposition, when irritated by some slight oversight on the part of the unfortunate boy who acted as his valet, could find no relief to his feelings until he had welted him first into a condition of unutterable terror, and then into a state of insensibility. Neither did he inform them that a certain lady in the town, who seemed at most times to be possessed of a reasonably quiet spirit, was roused once to such a degree by a female slave that she caused her to be forcibly held, thrust a boiling hot egg into her mouth, skewered her lips together with a sail-needle, and then striking her cheeks, burst the egg, and let the scalding contents run down her throat.
No, nothing of all this did the amiable Governor Letotti so much as hint at. He would not for the world have shocked the sensibilities of his guests by the recital of such cruelties. To say truth, the worthy man himself did not like to speak or think of them. In this respect he resembled a certain class among ourselves, who, rather than submit to a little probing of their feelings for a few minutes, would prefer to miss the chance of making an intelligently indignant protest against slavery, and would allow the bodies and souls of their fellow-men to continue writhing in agony through all time.
It was much more gratifying to the feelings of Senhor Letotti to convey his guests to the drawing-room, and there gratify their palates with excellent coffee, while the graceful, and now clothed, Azinté brought a Spanish guitar to the Senhorina Maraquita, whose sweet voice soon charmed away all thoughts of the cruel side of slavery. But duty ere long stepped in to call the guests to other scenes.
“What a sweet girl the Senhorina is!” remarked Captain Romer, while on his way to the beach.
“Ay, and what a pretty girl Azinté is, black though she be,” observed Lieutenant Small.
“Call her not black; she is brown—a brunette,” said the captain.
“I wonder how we should feel,” said Lindsay, “if the tables were turned, and our women and children, with our stoutest young men, were forcibly taken from us by thousands every year, and imported into Africa to grind the corn and hoe the fields of the black man. Poor Azinté!”
“Do you know anything of her history?” inquired Mr Small.
“A little. I had some conversation in French with the Senhorina just before we left—”
“Yes, I observed that,” interrupted the captain, with a quiet smile.
“And,” continued Lindsay, “she told me that she had discovered, through an interpreter, that the poor girl is married, and that her home is far away in the interior. She was caught, with many others, while out working in the fields one day several months ago, by a party of slave-traders, under an Arab named Yoosoof and carried off. Her husband was absent at the time; her infant boy was with its grandmother in their village, and she thinks may have escaped into the woods, but she has not seen any of them again since the day of her capture.”
“It is a sad case,” said the captain, “and yet bad though it be, it might be far worse, for Azinté’s master and mistress are very kind, which is more than can be said of most slave-owners in this region.”
In a few minutes the captain’s gig was alongside the “Firefly,” and soon afterwards that vessel quietly put to sea. Of course it was impossible that she should depart unobserved, but her commander took the precaution to run due south at first, exactly opposite to the direction of his true course, intending to make a wide sweep out to sea, and thus get unobserved to the northward of the place where the slaver’s dhow was supposed to be lying, in time to intercept it.
Yoosoof, from a neighbouring height watched the manoeuvre, and thoroughly understood it. When the vessel had disappeared into the shades of night that brooded over the sea, he smiled calmly, and in a placid frame of mind betook himself to his lair in the creek beside the mangrove trees.
He found Harold Seadrift and Disco Lillihammer in the hut, somewhat impatient of his prolonged absence, and a dozen of his men looking rather suspiciously at the strangers.
“Is all ready, Moosa?” he inquired of a powerful man, half-Portuguese, half-negro in appearance, who met him outside the door of the hut.
“All ready,” replied the half-caste, in a gruff tone of voice, “but what are you going to do with these English brutes?”
“Take them with us, of course,” replied Yoosoof.
“For what end?”
“For our own safety. Why, don’t you see, Moosa, that if we had set them free, they might have discovered the town and given information to the cruiser about us, which would have been awkward? We might now, indeed, set them free, for the cruiser is gone, but I still have good reason for wishing to take them with me. They think that we have but one boat in this creek, and I should like to make use of them for the purpose of propagating that false idea. I have had the good luck while in the town to find an opportunity of giving one of the sailors of the cruiser a little information as to my movements—some of it true, some of it false—which will perhaps do us a service.”
The Arab smiled slightly as he said this.
“Do these men know our trade?” asked Moosa.
“I think they suspect it,” answered Yoosoof.
“And what if they be not willing to go with us?” demanded Moosa.
“Can twelve men not manage two?” asked the Arab. Dark though the night had become by that time, there was sufficient light to gleam on the teeth that Moosa exposed on receiving this reply.
“Now, Moosa, we must be prompt,” continued Yoosoof; “let some of you get round behind the Englishmen, and have the slave-chains handy. Keep your eye on me while I talk with them; if they are refractory, a nod shall be the signal.”
Entering the hut Yoosoof informed Harold that it was now time to set sail.
“Good, we are ready,” said Harold, rising, “but tell me one thing before my comrade and I agree to go with you,—tell us honestly if you are engaged in the slave-trade.”
A slight smile curled the Arab’s thin lip as he replied—“If I be a slave-trader, I cannot speak honestly, so you Engleesh think. But I do tell you—yes, I am.”
“Then, I tell you honestly,” said Harold, “that I won’t go with you. I’ll have nothing to do with slavers.”
“Them’s my sentiments to a tee,” said Disco, with emphasis, thumping his left palm as usual with his right fist, by way of sheating his remark home—to use his own words.
“But you will both perish on this uninhabited coast,” said Yoosoof.
“So be it,” replied Harold; “I had rather run the risk of starving than travel in company with slave-traders. Besides, I doubt the truth of what you say. There must be several villages not very far off, if my information in regard to the coast be not altogether wrong.”
Yoosoof waited for no more. He nodded to Moosa, who instantly threw a noose round Harold’s arms, and drew it tight. The same operation was performed for Disco, by a stout fellow who stood behind him, and almost before they realised what had occurred, they were seized by a number of men.
It must not be supposed that two able-bodied Englishmen quietly submitted at once to this sort of treatment. On the contrary, a struggle ensued that shook the walls of the little hut so violently as almost to bring it down upon the heads of the combatants. The instant that Harold felt the rough clasp of Moosa’s arms, he bent himself forward with such force as to fling that worthy completely over his head, and lay him flat on the floor, but two of the other slavers seized Harold’s arms, a third grasped him round the waist, and a fourth rapidly secured the ropes that had been thrown around him. Disco’s mode of action, although somewhat different was quite as vigorous. On being grasped he uttered a deep roar of surprise and rage, and, raising his foot, struck out therewith at a man who advanced to seize him in front. The kick not only tumbled the man over a low bench and drove his head against the wall, but it caused the kicker himself to recoil on his foes behind with such force that they all fell on the floor together, when by their united weight the slavers managed to crush the unfortunate Disco, not, indeed, into submission, but into inaction.
His tongue, however, not being tied, continued to pour forth somewhat powerful epithets, until Harold very strongly advised him to cease.
“If you want to retain a whole skin,” he said, “you had better keep a quiet tongue.”
“P’raps you’re right sir,” said Disco, after a moment’s consideration, “but it ain’t easy to shut up in the succumstances.”
After they had thoroughly secured the Englishmen, the traders led them down the bank of the creek to the spot where the dhow was moored. In the dark it appeared to Harold and his companion to be the same dhow, but this was not so. The boat by which they had crossed the creek had been removed up the water, and its place was now occupied by the dhow into which had been put the maimed and worn-out slaves of the band whose arrival we have described. The hold of the little vessel was very dark, nevertheless there was light enough to enable the Englishmen to guess that the rows of black objects just perceptible within it were slaves. If they had entertained any uncertainty on this point, the odour that saluted them as they passed to the stern would have quickly dispelled their doubts.
It was evident from the manner of the slavers that they did not now fear discovery, because they talked loudly as they pushed off and rowed away. Soon they were out of the creek, and the roar of breakers was heard. Much caution was displayed in guiding the dhow through these, for the channel was narrow, and darkness rendered its position almost indiscernible. At last the sail was hoisted, the boat bent over to a smart breeze, and held away in a north-easterly direction. As the night wore on this breeze became lighter, and, most of the crew being asleep, deep silence prevailed on board the slave-dhow, save that, ever and anon, a pitiful wail, as of a sick child, or a convulsive sob, issued from the hold.
Harold and Disco sat beside each other in the stern, with an armed half-caste on each side, and Yoosoof in front. Their thoughts were busy enough at first, but neither spoke to the other. As the night advanced both fell into an uneasy slumber.
When Harold awoke, the grey dawn was beginning to break in the east and there was sufficient light to render objects dimly visible. At first he scarcely recollected where he was, but the pain caused by the ropes that bound him soon refreshed his memory. Casting his eyes quickly towards the hold, his heart sank within him at the sight he there beheld. Yoosoof’s Black Ivory was not of the best quality, but there was a good deal of it, which rendered judicious packing necessary. So many of his gang had become worthless as an article of trade, through suffering on the way down to the coast, that the boat could scarce contain them all. They were packed sitting on their haunches in rows each with his knees close to his chin, and all jammed so tightly together that none could rise up or lie down. Men, women, and little children sat in this position with an expression of indescribable hopelessness and apathy on their faces. The infants, of which there were several, lay motionless on their mothers’ shrunken breasts. God help them! they were indeed utterly worthless as pieces of merchandise. The long journey and hard treatment had worn all of them to mere skin and bone, and many were suffering from bad sores caused by the slave-irons and the unmerciful application of the lash. No one knew better than Yoosoof that this was his “damaged stock”—hopelessly damaged, and he meant to make the best use he could of it.
The sun arose in all its splendour, and revealed more clearly to the horrified Englishmen all the wretchedness of the hold, but for a considerable time they did not speak. The circumstances in which they found themselves seemed to have bereft them of the faculty of speech. The morning advanced, and Yoosoof with his men, took a frugal breakfast, but they did not offer any to Harold or Disco. As these unfortunates had, however, supped heartily, they did not mind that. So much could not have been said for the slaves. They had received their last meal of uncooked rice and water, a very insufficient one, about thirty-six hours before, and as they watched the traders at breakfast, their glaring eyes told eloquently of their sufferings.
Had these been Yoosoof’s valuable stock, his undamaged goods, he would have given them a sufficiency of food to have kept them up to condition as long as he possessed them; but being what they were, a very little drop of water and a few grains of raw rice at noon was deemed sufficient to prevent absolute starvation.
“How can you have the heart,” said Harold at last turning to Yoosoof, “to treat these poor creatures so cruelly?”
Yoosoof shrugged his shoulders.