■y %-^y v^*y V A ^ * ° « ° ° ^ A 1 • * **.*. \V 0° .<^% °o * C 1 1 > ^ °V -SSI®* ** ^ 4 o ^^ 0* ,••• ^ ^ W **0* s V A VOICE FROM THE CONGO A VOICE FROM THE CONGO COMPRISING STORIES, ANECDOTES, AND DESCRIPTIVE NOTES BY HERBERT WARD WITH ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS, SCULPTURE, AND DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR " Savages are but shades of ourselves " Ovid NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1910 -> < c* ■ ^ <}, \ COPTBIGHT, 1910, BT CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Published October, 1910 CLA273443 So MY WIFE PREFACE It was no high motive that took me to Africa. I went there simply and solely to gratify my love of adventure. At the age of fifteen I commenced my travels, and during the course of my wanderings in New Zealand, Australia, and in unknown regions of northern Borneo, I experienced many ups and downs. These vicissitudes only whetted my appe- tite, and led me to Central Africa, where I passed the five most impressionable years of my life. I took to Africans from the first. I was young, full of life and high spirits, and regarded every one I met as a friend. My confidence was sometimes checked, but never shaken. With youthful exuberance of spirits I fraternised with every one I met, and I soon found there was a fund of good-humour in the African composition. There was a good side to even the most villainous-looking savage, and I generally found it. In this free and easy way I entered into the lives of the natives. My sympathy, which was with them at the commencement, ripened with time. They ap- viii PREFACE pealed strongly to me by reason of their simplicity and directness, their lack of scheming or plotting, and by the spontaneity of everything they did. Hence my efforts to learn their language, in order that I might know them better. Commencing in this casual manner I found myself gradually drawn into serious reflections, and I became imbued with a profound sympathy for African human nature. H. W. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The author desires to express his acknowledgments to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons of New York, and Messrs. Cassell and Company of London, for their permission to reprint portions of some of his articles already published by them. CONTENTS PAGE Village Scenes 1 Sketches of Native Character 9 An Elephant Hunt 19 Yoka the Sorcerer 30 The Monkey People 35 Nganga Nkissi 52 The Funeral of an African Chief 59 Tippo Tib 66 Adventures of Captain Deane 75 A Forest Drama 84 suliman the slaver 96 The Tale of a Tusk of Ivory 113 Stories About Animals 138 Oddities 150 A Village Romance 166 zi xii CONTENTS PAGE Stanley 177 The Words of Uledi Pagani 193 The Impressions of Bulelu 201 Souvenirs 207 Reflections 223 Stories of White Men 231 Congo Characteristics 253 Language 264 Superstitions 270 In General 277 Cannibalism 307 Envoi 319 Index 323 ILLUSTRATIONS A Congo warrior (photogravure) Frontispiece y FACING PAGE A Congo group 2 *"" A Bakongo woman 10 A Congo boy 14 ' A study 14 Group at Mobunga 18 "" Study of dead elephant 20 A sketch at Mobunga 24 The sorcerer 32 - A BatekS 34 ' Idols, Manyema 36 An Aruimi type 38 Nyanga Nkissi, the witch doctor 54 Idols, Manyema 56 • Witch rattle, Bangala 58 - Bolobo 60 . Bolobo 62 xiii xiv ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE Tippo Tib 68 The Congo at Mongolia 76 A sketch at Yambinga . . 94 Village scene, Aruimi 118 Native fighting knife and sheath, Manyema 122 Native -fighting knife and sheath, Rua 136 Studies by the Author 152 A Congo artist 160 A Congo idyll 168 Bust of Bakongo girl 170 Native village, Bangala . . 174 Stanley Pool 180 The Author on the Upper Congo, Emin Pacha Relief Expedition 184 Stanley Falls, showing Wenya method of fishing 188 Belelu 202 An Arab slaver 202 Native type, Basoko 202 A Congo chief 204 Congo carriers . 210 Carriers on the march 212 A vine bridge, Lower Congo 214 A corner of the Author's studio 218 ILLUSTRATIONS xv FACING PAGE A Congo carrier 220 , Native -fighting knife, Mangalla 224 . Mementos 228 Native fighting knife, Aruimi 228 Portrait group 232 The caravan path at Mpalaballa 240 Congo arms 250 Congo arms 254 Congo implements 256 Fighting knives, Kasai 258 Ribba fighting knife 258 Ngombe, Aruimi, Aruimi (three native hats) 260 Bopoto 266 Fetish, Lower Congo, used for registering vows 268 Powder flask (Lower Congo) 270 Pillow (Manyema) 270 Idol (Manyema) 270 Idols in the collection of the Author (Manyema and Lower Congo) 272 The idol-maker 274 Metal collar, Malinga River . . . c 278 "Molua" metal collar 278 Aruimi metal anklet iron 278 xvi ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE Native chair or back rest, Wenya 282 Native mash, Rua 282 Head of Pigmy chief - . . 288 A Lukolela girl with firewood 292 M'Bichi {musical instrument, Lower Congo) ........ 298 A Bangala 302 A type of the Lomami 302 Human teeth necklace and bracelet (Aruimi) 308 Bangala 312 A type of the Lomami 312 Python 316 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO VILLAGE SCENES Ibenza is the name of the village. It is situated in the heart of the great African forest, fifteen hun- dred miles from ocean shores. The population is small, for the native communities of this wild region are wanting in the elements of union. The women outnumber the men to the extent of fully three to one; the men being killed fighting, whereas the women are less exposed to danger, by reason of their marketable value. To study the doings of a single day in this village may serve to give an insight into the general conditions of native life. It is early morning — dark, damp and cold. A white mist hangs heavily over the ground, envelop- ing the huts and all the lower growths of foliage in ghostly mystery. The air is laden with the sickly pungent odour of decaying vegetation. There are sounds, often mournful in character, befitting the music of the wild forest. The incessant singing of mosquitoes is maddening to the ear. The hoarse croaking of frogs and the strange and varied utter- ances of animal life impress one as sounding strangely weird and discordant in the gloom. 2 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO In the long line of grass huts, where the natives are sleeping, one hears occasional sounds of heavy breathing; over yonder a woman with a crying baby in her arms, crouches over the dying embers of a fire. The first ray of dawn is heralded by the plaintive wail of guinea-fowl, as they flap their wings and fly from their roosting-places in search of food. Men and women crawl forth from their tiny grass huts, yawning and stretching themselves after their night's deep slumber. The morning mists soon dis- appear and the village gradually becomes animated. Children, light-hearted and joyous, commence to gambol in every direction; some with their mimic bows and arrows shoot at the prowling pariah dogs. When the sun is well above the horizon, rising in a cloudless sky and shedding a genial warmth upon the earth, all Nature wears a joyful aspect. Num- bers of chirping tiny birds, whose resplendent plumage glistens in the bright sunshine, suddenly appear from the dark gloomy forest and flit around the bushes in the village clearing. Large zephyr- winged butterflies and others all gorgeous and ra- diant with brilliant colour soar gracefully above the refuse-heaps. The village scene is in striking contrast to these fairy-like surroundings; for the grass conical-shaped huts are still sodden with heavy night dew, the narrow paths are littered with dead leaves and rubbish, and the native home accords A Congo group From a bronze group by the Author VILLAGE SCENES 3 well with the careless unrestrained nature of its in- habitants. The morning meal, consisting of a few ears of maize and half-smoked fish, is soon over. Then follows the departure of nearly all the women; they vanish into their forest plantations in quest of food and firewood. The men gradually assemble together in front of the chief's hut to hear the public discus- sions of the day. These palaver meetings are dear to all Central Africans. They take keen delight in oratory, which may in fact be said to constitute one of their im- portant arts. They talk fluently and employ many metaphorical and flowery expressions. Possessing a natural gift of rude eloquence, it is greatly enhanced in effect by the soft inflections and the harmonious euphony of their language; they reason well and dis- play great aptitude for debate. The case before the court to-day relates to the death of a young slave girl. She was recently seized by a crocodile, while bathing in the river. About two hundred men and boys in semi-nakedness, seat themselves in a circle in front of their chief, a large- boned truculent-looking man, decorated with heavy iron anklets and bracelets, sitting cross-legged upon a leopard skin. The former owner of the deceased slave steps forward; striking his spear blade downwards in the 4 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO ground in front of him, he produces in his right hand a number of small pieces of split bamboo. Speaking fluently and with simple gesture he caps each point of his oration by selecting one of his small sticks and placing it upon the ground in front of him. In brief, his speech relates first to his early life, and then in monotonous rotation, and with a careless indifference to relevancy, he enumerates all the most memorable and favourable events of his own life, down to the time when he purchased the deceased slave. He then relates the history of the unfortu- nate slave-girl's untimely end. " Death is not a natural event," he continues, in the flowery idiom of his language. "Some person with an evil heart has been in communication with the crocodile that deprived me of my slave. An evil spirit, born of envy or malice, has entered the soul of some person in this village and has been communi- cated to the crocodile. It may even be that some re- vengeful man or woman has actually become trans- formed into the shape of a crocodile to do me harm. An evil spirit has been at work, and I call upon our Nganga, our wise and clever witch-doctor, to seek it." His speech is ended, and upon the ground at his feet lie the row of small sticks which have served as memoranda. No sooner has the first speech concluded than another orator commences, with a different line of VILLAGE SCENES 5 argument; suggesting that the slave girl had offended the great Evil Spirit, and that the angry "Ndoki" had sent his emissary the crocodile to punish her. Other men, with yet more strangely superstitious views, hasten to gain the attention of the company; the discussion grows heated, and voices are sud- denly raised in anger. An imminent brawl is how- ever diverted by the timely appearance of several women upon the scene. They carry large earthen- ware jars of fermented sugar-cane juice. The hubbub ceases; the natives forgetful of their dif- ferences crowd forward and drink the intoxicating liquid and their voices assume a more friendly tone. The sun is now at its zenith and the heat is intense. Suddenly all eyes are directed towards a forest path. A jingle of iron bells, a stamping of feet, and from a cloud of dust there springs the grotesque figure of the Fetish Man. Wild-cat skins dangle from his waist. His eyelids are whitened with chalk. His body is smeared with the blood of a fresh-killed fowl. His feather head-dress flutters as he dances. His charms and metal ornaments clank and jingle as he bounds and springs hither and thither somewhat after the manner of a harlequin. Wildly he dances, stamping his feet and wriggling his body as though his waist was a hinge; the com- pany, squatting round him in a circle, meanwhile chant a monotonous dirge-like song and clap their 6 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO hands in unison. At length, bathed in perspira- tion, dusty and bedraggled, the Fetish Man with a gesture of his hand commands silence. With high prancing steps and swaying shoulders he passes slowly around the company directing search- ing looks into many faces. In a falsetto voice, still swaying his body, he states that he has come to seek an evil spirit, that he seeks the person who is guilty of having taken the form of a crocodile to kill a woman. "It is a woman," says he with a fiendish grin, changing the tone of his voice from shrill falsetto to deep bass, "a woman, an old woman, who was envi- ous of the good favour shown to the dead girl by her master." Stooping low, he places his ear to the ground, and carries on an imaginary conversation. He pretends to consult a spirit in the earth. Then rising, he walks with measured prancing steps in the direc- tion of a poor forlorn-looking woman. Pointing towards her, he makes a hideous grimace and in a sepulchral tone of voice he condemns her as being the guilty person. The wretched woman shrieks, springs to her feet, and turns to flee. Too late. A spear instantly glistens in the air, it strikes her in the back, and with a moan of pain she falls heavily to the ground. During the ensuing uproar her body is dragged away towards the river amid deafening VILLAGE SCENES 7 yells and shouts. They then rejoice, these simple people, that an evil spirit has been appeased. The noise gradually subsides, the village paths become deserted, it is the midday period of idleness and the natives sleep. All becomes silent and tran- quil. Even the birds and insects seek a sheltered spot. The sun pours forth a fierce heat, with a glaring light, and the thatched roofs of the huts glisten as though covered with snow. When the shadows lengthen, life again awakens. The men rest their heads upon their wives' knees, to have their hair dressed. The women deftly comb and plait the crisp woolly hair into braids and points with the aid of a long iron skewer and red palm oil. As an instance in proof of decoration being antecedent to dress, these people, living in a state of almost complete nudity, spend no inconsiderable portion of their lives in hair-dressing and in anointing their bodies with oil and cam-wood powder. As the sun sets, the women bring forth the evening meal of roasted plantains, boiled cassava root, half- smoked fish, with perhaps a bowl of roasted wood- worms, locusts, or white ants. The men eat at the doors of their huts; the women retire aside to eat, for etiquette in this distant land forbids women to eat in the presence of men. When it is dark and the fireflies sparkle round the bushes, a big wooden drum booms forth a sum- 8 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO mons to the night dance. With gay shouts the people assemble together. Forming themselves into two rows they advance and recede with sinuous swaying movements, singing in full rich tones a rhythmical air, keeping time by clapping their hands and stamping their feet. Later on, the moon sheds a silvery light upon their metal ornaments and per- spiring bodies. The deep bass voices of the men and the high-pitched tones of the women echo in the forest, their naked feet shuffle and stamp upon the ground. The graceful palm-leaves and broad banana-leaves with their fine lines and curves resemble trellis-work against the clear night sky. A transparent blue smoke from the wood fires is oc- casionally wafted across the scene on the evening breeze. The scene is weird, the sounds are bar- baric, it is a picture of human life in an early stage. By midnight the dance is ended and all becomes hushed. Gaunt pariah dogs sneak about the vil- lage paths in search of food. At length they too grow drowsy, and curl their bodies in the white ashes of the expired fires. Occasionally a baby whines and cries; frogs croak and myriads of mosquitoes once more fill the night air with their music. SKETCHES OF NATIVE CHARACTER The best illustration of the naivete of the Congo character occurred to me at a place called Man- yanga. It was during the hottest part of the day, and I was sitting on the veranda of my grass- thatched hut gazing upon the troubled waters of the cataract region thinking of the particularly tragic incident which ended the life of Frank Pocock, per- haps the most tragic circumstance connected with Stanley's memorable journey across Africa, in the year 1877. From where I sat, I could see the troubled waters swirling and foaming below the huge rocks against which the poor brave fellow had been dashed to death. A party of natives returning from a market, wended their way towards me, and the spokesman by every persuasive power of speech endeavoured to sell me a skinny goat for treble its value. The interview ended abruptly, and a few minutes later I was watching the little party embarking in a canoe, paddling their way up stream, keeping close to the shore until they attained a point at which it was 10 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO customary, but at all times hazardous, to steer the frail round-bottomed dug-out across to the north bank, a distance of some five hundred yards, through violent and ever-changing whirlpools. About half a mile below this point the water churned itself into foam as it swept over a succession of enormous rocks, and represented an ever-present danger to those who crossed the river. Listlessly at first, I watched the little party in their wobbling canoe until they had reached the critical part of their journey, the part at which they had to manoeuvre their canoe so as to escape the vortex of a powerful whirlpool. My apathy suddenly gave way to a feeling of keen apprehension, as I observed that they were being carried away, broadside on, in the swiftest part of the channel. The paddlers had evidently lost control, and the other members of the party ap- peared to be overcome by a sense of impending disaster, for they began to sway the canoe from side to side in their endeavours to aid the paddlers. By the time I reached the river's bank all was lost, for the canoe had sunk, and in its place were now merely a few black specks bobbing here and there, with occasionally an arm thrown up in wild despair. In a few minutes all was ended, and the poor fellows who had not been drowned at once were swept to perdition by the terrific force of the stream. ; y ^ A Bakongo woman Drawn by the Author SKETCHES OF NATIVE CHARACTER 11 To my amazement, I perceived one individual who still kept afloat and who swam bravely back towards the south bank. Walking along the river side I kept pace with him as he swam, and the tension of watch- ing the poor man's efforts became acute. At the time, it seemed miraculous that he should have power enough to reach the shore, but he did. My surprise can be imagined when I found that a child, a chubby little boy of four or five years of age, was still clinging around the man's neck. Overcome by excitement and by admiration for the man's prowess, I aided him to land, and took the two survivors to my hut, where I collected everything I could lay my hands upon, likely to be considered valuable in the eyes of a native. At the same time as I presented the man with these modest gifts, I told him that he had that day performed a deed which would greatly please white men. I told him that he was a plucky fellow for having saved a help- less child from imminent death. He replied: "Yes, he is saved. I tried many times to shake him off, but he clung too tight!" Tony of Kabinda was the servant of a missionary. It was a generally accepted fact that Tony had a past. However, as mission interpreter he behaved himself with pious dignity, and became quite a power in the mission region. n A VOICE FROM THE CONGO When hunting elephants in company with several head-men of a neighbouring village, Tony was anx- ious to have the game to himself, and shouted to the group of men in front of him, saying: "Get out of the way — get behind me. Let those who fear God shoot!" I once shot an old bull elephant in the forest near Ibenza. The occasion was one of joy to the natives. Within a few hours the mighty animal was reduced to a skeleton, and the village reeked of flesh. Satiated with meat, the natives gathered round my tent and asked to view the gun with which I had slain the ele- phant. The chief in particular was an interested audi- tor of my explanations and descriptions. In the midst of the interview, I was interrupted by one of my fol- lowers, the Zanzibari cook, who approached me, whin- ing in Kiswahili, a language unknown to the natives : "Ekh Bwana! Naona tabu sana Bwana." ("I am seeing much trouble, my master ; I am ill in my body.") Producing a bottle of pills from a small medicine- case, I administered one, as being a sufficiently pow- erful dose for any normal constitution. The Ibenza chief thereupon held out his hand, saying: "Maa, na kulinga." ("Give to me also from that bottle, O white man.") Being practically at the mercy of the natives, as I was travelling with but few followers, I deemed it SKETCHES OF NATIVE CHARACTER 13 wise to humour the chief in such a small request and I presented him with a pill. " White man ! See ! You have given me but one," said he, with an air of dissatisfaction, rolling the pill in the palm of his hand. "Unto him who is your slave you have given one. Would you treat a chief as you treat your slave ? " For a moment I was taken by surprise. Then rising to the occasion I expressed regret for having appeared to slight his dignity, and to meet the exigencies of the situation I handed him three more pills. With a gratified smile the chief held forth the four small silver-coated pills in his massive hand in order that the assembled company should observe the manner in which I had recognised his distinction of rank, and calmly rolling them into his mouth, he deliberately munched and swallowed them with every appearance of pleasure. The following morning, at an early hour, I left the village, and started again upon my journey. Crowds of natives gathered around to bid me farewell, but in all the throng I failed to observe my friend the Ibenza chief. One day, whilst strolling in this same far-away village, my attention was attracted by the piteous moaning of a woman. I found her lying upon a heap of refuse, banana peelings, sweepings, fish- 14 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO bones and rubbish, all seething in the hot sun. The poor creature appeared to be in great distress. Her body was smeared with blood and filth, and the flesh was literally torn from either side of her face, leaving her temples bare and raw. In her agony she had clawed and torn her flesh with her finger-nails. Her despair was indeed pitiful to behold and I sought to soothe her, but all in vain. Turning to a native who was standing by, I in- quired in the native language : " What ails this woman ? What manner of malady is this ? Quickly, tell me words to explain this." The savage shrugged his shoulders, and, with a scornful toss of his head, he replied : "That woman's baby died a few days ago. See! She bleeds herself with grief. That is all!" Grief! The pathos of the scene would have moved a heart of stone. There at my feet was a revelation of savage feeling, of love and grief, of the deep emotions that can be enjoyed and suffered by one even of a cruel, cannibal race. As a mother, this woman had cherished and loved her child; as a savage, ignorant of faith and forlorn she mourned her infant's death. It was evening, and we had travelled many miles that day in the fierce heat of the tropical sun. My carriers who were seated grouped around a cheerful log fire were recounting their different deeds of II J'l SKETCHES OF NATIVE CHARACTER 15 valour. Said one: "I am the greatest buffalo-hunter in all Ngembi." Another man related the many valiant deeds which he had performed in war. Another told of how he had faced an infuriated ele- phant, and killed it with a charge of stones fired from his old flint-lock gun. Suddenly the wood crackled, shedding a shower of sparks, and the alacrity with which these bold- hearted hunters took flight was remarkable. Although the sense of gratitude, in our ordinarily accepted meaning of the term, is rarely met with among Central Africans, it must not be thought that this virtue is foreign to their nature. As an illus- tration however of the absence of a sense of grati- tude, I must cite an instance of a man who suffered from a form of skin disease. By dint of simple remedies I succeeded in purifying the man's blood, and, in fact, the patient proved so amenable to my treatment that at the end of a month I told him that he was perfectly cured and might go home. "Yes, O white man," he replied, "but what will you pay me? I have been with you many days, a whole moon has passed, what will you pay me for all that time?" * >H jfc * »fc With reference to the native's disregard for hu- man life, it must be remembered that the motive 16 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO does not always proceed from mere malignity of nature. Sometimes it is due to superstition, some- times to fear. The people are frequently over- ready to attack through dread of being attacked. They kill lest they should be killed. It is very true that a slight motive is often enough for taking hu- man life: but that does not prevent them — even the worst cannibal tribes — from having a disposition that is in some respects amiable, and very easily conciliated and amused. A man once fell from the scaffolding whilst en- gaged in cutting a tree. Spontaneously his friends all howled derisively at his misfortune. To a casual observer this incident might be noted down as yet another evidence of the callousness of their nature. More intimate association with the conditions of native life leads one to regard this incident from a different point of view. His friends laughed, not because they were amused at his misfortune, but because they were glad that the accident had not happened to themselves. This slight incident may serve to indicate the difficulties one has to contend with in attempting to record facts and to form opinions relating to the working of the African mind. ***** It was in a market-place, and the inhabitants of all the country-side were there, buying, selling, haggling; SKETCHES OF NATIVE CHARACTER 17 each individual talking incessantly, and quite indif- ferent as to whether any one listened. Presently I detected the sound of angry voices. Said the Chief of Fumba to the Chief of Lutete: "How poor are your people! A chief of people so poor is scarcely a chief at all. Do you not suffer from hunger? Are you not cold at night, because you have no cloth? And your dead, is it not hard to place them in the ground without any cloth around their bodies ? Your children, too — why, our slaves at Fumba own more wealth than you people of Lutete." In the course of a heated reply, I heard the Chief of Lutete allude to the forthcoming market of Nkandu. Said he: "Your words are the words of envy. At the Nkandu market we will show you that you lie, that your words are not true words. Wait! O chief! Wait for the next market day." This little dispute interested me, and I made a point of attending the next market. Everything went on as usual until noon. Suddenly I heard exclamations of astonishment and wonder. Hands were placed over open mouths in token of surprise, as the people gazed upon a long procession which slowly wended its way up the hill. These were the people of Lutete and they had come to answer the taunts of the Chief of Fumba by a parade of their wealth and possessions. There were probably two hundred men and women, 18 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO and the chief who led them in person was most gor- geously attired. He carried a scarlet parasol encir- cled with gold lace. Upon his head he wore an English Lifeguardsman's helmet; around his neck he had the wooden circlet of a tambourine with its little brass cymbals jingling, and he wore next to his naked body the scarlet tunic of a militia uniform, which, together with some yards of multi-coloured cotton cloth wrapped round his waist, with the ends trailing in the dusty ground behind him, completed his dress. The costumes of his followers were no less amazing in their incongruity, and the whole formed a collection of so varied a nature as would have aroused the interest of a Houndsditch clothier. The parasols of all shades and descriptions ; the yards of cloth and cotton goods; the rows upon rows of glass beads which adorned the bodies of the women ; the jingling of the bells; the brave show of old flintlock guns; the queer uses to which some of the garments had been put: all made a picture not easily to be forgotten. Without a word being said, the procession en- tered the market-place, and in a most dignified man- ner marched through the throng of admiring and dumfounded spectators, only to retire in the same order as they had come, still without uttering a word, whilst we all stood gazing in astonishment and silence as they followed the narrow serpentine path which led them back to their village in the valley below. AN ELEPHANT HUNT Elephant-hunting alone and on foot, in spite of numerous obstacles in the shape of dense vegeta- tion and boggy ground, with the physical strain of tramping, climbing, and wading, is an exciting sport. Whilst living at Bangala, on the north bank of the Upper Congo River, one thousand miles in the in- terior of Central Africa, I heard many native ac- counts of the number of elephants to be found in the forests of the district of Mobunga, on the opposite shore of the river. Upon an appointed day, accompanied by twenty- five Bangala natives as paddlers, I embarked in a large native war-canoe bound for Mobunga. Before us, at the close of a long day's paddling — for the Upper Congo River at this point is some twenty miles in width, from one main bank to the other — lay the low forest bank of the south shore. The village was soon located by the tiny columns of blue smoke which wreathed the upper branches of the giant cotton- trees. 19 20 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO This country had never before been visited by a white man, and we were far from being confident of a friendly reception from the cannibals. Our mis- givings were quickly confirmed, for no sooner had the canoe approached within full view of the village than we were saluted with wild yells and howls. An ugly mob of armed natives rushed to the river side and manned several war-canoes, whilst others lined the river-bank with their spears poised at us. In view of this reception, our prospects of elephant- hunting seemed remote; and my Bangala com- panions, well versed in savage ways, counselled a hasty retreat. At the critical moment, however, when escape seemed hopeless, owing to a number of large canoes heading us off, the chief suddenly made his appearance upon the bank. Raising his voice high above the uproar, he shouted : "Benu bokuling undi?" (What do you want?) "Itumba, ekh?" (Do you come to fight?) Explanations followed, and the crowd gazed at us suspiciously. "We come as friends," said the headman of my Bangala companions, speaking in the Mobunga dia- lect. "We come to visit your country because they tell us that there are many elephants. If you will believe that we are friends coming in peace and allow us to land, our white man will show you the strange weapon he has brought, which will kill AN ELEPHANT HUNT 21 elephants. We have ourselves seen the power of the weapon, and it is strong. Let the white man come among you and kill elephants, you will have the meat for food. Think, O people of Mobunga! think of your stomachs all large with good elephant meat." This tactful speech told greatly in our favour. The mere mention of the word "meat" had in fact an immediate effect, and the loud voices of distrust soon changed their tone into a low, rumbling note of eagerness. Upon landing, we were at once surrounded by a surging crowd of evil-smelling ruffians, to the ex- clusion of all fresh air. I paid a heavy penalty indeed for the unique position of being their first white visitor; I was buffeted to and fro, whilst large grimy hands mauled me over as if to prove, by sense of touch, the reality of my strange appear- ance. My patience was sorely exercised, and the climax of my misery was reached when, after bland and eloquent speeches on the part of the chief and his henchmen, I submitted to the ceremony of blood-brotherhood with Ozoio, the Mobunga chief. An incision was made in both our right arms, and our blood was collected and mixed in a broad leaf. This leaf was subsequently rolled after the manner of a cigar, cut into two portions and handed to us to eat. This trying ceremony, the traditional evidence of good faith, was accomplished by an ac- m A VOICE FROM THE CONGO companiment of shouts and by a furious uproar of drum-beating. We were then publicly proclaimed to be brothers of one blood. It was now dark, and being anxious to avoid any further ordeal, I persuaded the chief to give me six of his best men to guide me into that portion of the forest where I should be most likely to find elephants. Much time was spent in haggling, and it was prob- ably about ten o'clock at night before we eventually arrived at an understanding. Setting out with my rifle and cartridge belt, and accompanied by six most ill-favoured savages each carrying a firebrand, we entered the dark forest. Tired out and with overstrung nerves, I looked for- ward to enjoying a spell of comparative peace and quietness. Stumbling along in single file for upward of an hour, we reached an odd little village where I observed that most of the doors of the small grass huts consisted of elephants' ears hung over the aper- ture by a lashing of supple vine. Around the village were large stakes, firmly fixed in the ground, in order, I was told, to protect the huts from being trampled down by elephants. Indeed, such pre- caution appeared to be fully justified, for the boggy ground around the village was deeply marked by elephant tracks. As my guides, according to African custom, con- sidered it necessary to sit down and relate the entire AN ELEPHANT HUNT 23 story of my arrival to the inhabitants of this forest encampment, we were naturally delayed some time. It was only after long and angry expostulations on my part that we wandered off again through the dense forest, tripping constantly over fallen trees, being scratched and bruised by the thorny creepers and massive festooned vines. Arriving in swampy ground, we waded for some distance up to our knees in foul mud, when to my surprise a canoe was mysteriously produced. We scrambled into the little craft and commenced push- ing and hauling ourselves through the mass of under- growth. At frequent intervals we were forced to disembark and the canoe was lifted over fallen trees and monster roots, necessitating much delay and many violent arguments. It was, taking it alto- gether, a most exasperating experience, and I can truthfully affirm that canoeing through the African forest by night is very trying to one's patience. There were sudden sounds of startled birds and monkeys, whilst the splashing of water and the crackling of twigs often betrayed the presence of elephants. The air was damp and cold, and chills crept over my body, until my teeth chattered. Mos- quitoes swarmed around us in clouds. Hauling ourselves along by the aid of branches we frequently found ourselves smothered with vicious red ants. It was a dismal journey, and I was truly thankful 24 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO when we reached a comparatively clear space in the forest, albeit it was covered by tall bamboo cane some twenty feet in height; but I could at least catch a glimpse of the star-spangled sky. The leading man of my guides informed me that the journey was at an end. We had at last reached the favourite elephant ground I had heard so much of. My companions then retired with the canoe, promising to return the following day, when the sun was high in the sky, to carry home the meat! Being entirely in their hands, I acquiesced as cheerfully as I could, and stepped ashore' into the deep slush. "Oko! eo oke o." ("Oh, you! We go — we go away.") I acknowledged their farewell, and listened sadly to the distant voices of my homeward-bound guides. Standing above my ankles in the cold water, thor- oughly chilled and weary, with myriads of mos- quitoes hovering about me, I never in all my life felt so little inclination to hunt anything. Sur- rounded as I was by the vast primeval forest, a long day's journey from my single white comrade at Bangala, and fully five hundred miles from the next nearest white man, in the dead of night, and in the land of capricious savages, the feeling of loneliness grew more and more oppressive as the night ad- vanced. With the sense of hearing over-strained, every slight sound in the forest caused an involun- b3 AN ELEPHANT HUNT 25 tary start; the great trees, showing black against the star-lit sky, assumed grotesque forms, and I found great difficulty in shaking off a feeling of intense nervous awe. After floundering about for some time, I at length felt an opening which appeared to be an elephant path. The cane was trodden into the sodden ground, about four feet in width, and the path led straight across the bamboo patch. On either side of the path the cane grew so thickly that I found it almost impossible to penetrate. Making up my mind to remain in this ploughed-up path until day-light, when I hoped to view the elephants, I backed among the sticks and thorns, and tried in vain to be patient. Gusts of wind whistled through the foliage and by degrees the sky became overcast. Rain commenced to fall, and soon the sky seemed rent asunder with terrific flashes of lightning to which there succeeded crashing peals of thunder in startlingly rapid succession. This tropical storm seemingly arrived as a climax to my misery. In the midst of the storm I dis- tinctly heard elephants forcing their way through the forest in order evidently to reach some open space where they might be safe from falling trees. In the intermittent flashes of lightning I occasion- ally got a glimpse of a great ghostly form approach- ing the cane-patch, and as the storm increased in 26 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO fury the sound of elephants stampeding in all di- rections through the thick mass of bamboos im- pressed me in a most uncomfortable manner. Their floundering heavy footsteps occasionally seemed to approach within a few yards of me, and I distinctly heard the frightened squeals of baby elephants as they plunged and stumbled in the swamp. The storm ceased as suddenly as it came, and in the subsequent lull there was a constant dripping of water in the forest and the sound of falling branches. The elephants appeared to be standing motionless, and the air was once more filled with the eternal music of mosquitoes. With the first indication of dawn my spirits rose, and with the ragged sleeve of my wet shirt I care- fully wiped the mud from my rifle. Whilst it was still too dark to distinguish the surroundings, I could plainly hear elephants stirring in all directions. Crawling some little distance along the sloppy path, I gradually made out the silhouette of an elephant's head and back, cutting sharp against the gray morn- ing sky. It was impossible in that light to estimate distance. Every moment it grew lighter, and I was better able to obtain bearings. Creeping cautiously forward, I was startled two or three times by that low rumbling sound familiar to elephant-hunters. AN ELEPHANT HUNT 27 The cane-patch appeared to be a perfect haven of refuge for elephants during the storm, for on every side there came audible evidence of their presence. When within about twenty paces of my elephant I was just able to discern his ears flapping spasmod- ically to beat off the mosquitoes and sand-flies that hovered around his head, and to see his trunk swing- ing listlessly among the trampled cane as if in search of edible shoots. Gradually I noticed a certain restiveness, as though the animal suspected danger. Raising and circling his trunk in the air he sniffed in various directions until his head was turned straight towards me. Re- alising that my presence was discovered, and that there was not an instant to lose, I took a steady aim at his left shoulder and fired. The recoil of my eight-bore rifle almost knocked me backwards, and as I struggled in the cane-entangled slush, en- veloped in smoke, I was conscious of a deafening uproar. The rifle report echoed strangely through the forest, and the startled elephants charged madly forward in every direction, crashing through the dense foliage like giant locomotives. By the time I regained my feet and had crawled aside to be clear from the smoke I found my ele- phant slowly rising from the ground. I was now well within fifteen paces of the beast and fully re- alised the necessity of firing a fatal shot. Trembling 28 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO with excitement I fired point-blank at the forehead, and quickly stooping below the smoke, I caught sight of a jet of blood spurting from the wound. The ponderous animal fell slowly to the ground — dead. Reloading in haste I took two snap-shots at an ele- phant rushing past me, without other effect however than to stop his progress. He stood for a moment, gazing at me and twitching his tail. Owing to wet or dirt, I found difficulty in opening my rifle and in spite of frantic efforts I could not move the lever. I can well recall the feeling of blank despair when the wounded beast, with coiled trunk and ears erect, rushed forward with a shrill scream. Darting aside I fell into a swamp hole completely covered with a mass of vine and branches. There I lay breath- less for some moments, listening to the flounderings of the wounded elephant. At length the noise died away, and with broad daylight all was still again. In vain I tried to open my gun, but the breech was badly jammed, and I found myself unarmed. The time dragged slowly on, my anxiety increasing each hour, and I commenced to reflect upon the risks we had exposed ourselves to in visiting Mobunga without taking due precautions for safety. Hunger, excitement and lack of sleep, all combined to render my thoughts morbid. I climbed upon the back of the dead elephant and waited impatiently for my companions of the previous night. It was with AN ELEPHANT HUNT 29 genuine joy that I greeted their arrival. In place of the six men however there now appeared to be hundreds, with several canoes, and their shouts of delight at finding a dead elephant were deafening. Within an incredibly short time the huge carcass was stripped of flesh. The tusks were hacked from the skull with a native adze, and later on I em- barked in a canoe laden almost to the gunwale with reeking meat. Arriving once more in the village, I was distressed to learn that my Bangala followers had taken fright in the night and had paddled away, leaving me stranded. My successful kill had fortunately the effect of putting every one into a more or less good humour, and by dint of lavish promises I obtained some Mobunga natives and a canoe for my return to Bangala. YOKA THE SORCERER Yoka was a Charm-Doctor, a crafty quack who ex- ercised great influence in the land. His name in- spired the superstitious inhabitants of the Lukungu valley with a sense of awe and dread. By following the main incidents in the life of this redoubtable sorcerer, a glimpse at least will be re- vealed of the system of fetichism and superstition prevailing among the pagan population of the Congo. It appears that early in life Yoka displayed a quickness of perception that placed him far in ad- vance of his fellows, and that he devoted his superior mental qualities to the study of human nature. Where all men's minds were held in the bondage of superstition, Yoka very soon realised the ad- vantages to be gained by following the career of a professional sorcerer. Yoka gradually attained the position of an expert in the creation of devices for deceiving others. He artfully contrived to surround himself with an air of mystery by reason of his affect- ing various whimsicalities of speech and manner. When once well launched in his new profession, Yoka's powers of invention were sorely taxed to meet 30 YOKA THE SORCERER 31 the demands for special amulets and charms, and wooden images, containing the mystic property which would guard his clients against danger or misfortune. From an obscure corner of his hut Yoka produced a never-failing supply of little packages of mystery, adorned with feathers and smeared with ochre, and never was there a doubt cast upon their efficacy. It is recorded that Yoka grew rich, that his trade flourished amazingly, and that he became a veritable power in the land, dominating the chiefs; in fact a veritable autocrat. The life-history of Yoka, as related by contem- poraries, recorded that Yoka's wives were sleek and well-fed, that they were chosen from the youngest and most attractive girls of the district; that his hut was the roomiest and best constructed residence in the village. "No rain ever filtered through his roof," remarked the narrator, "for the material was so carefully selected and the thatch laid on with so much care." No man dared to be his open enemy. After the manner of the priests of ancient Egypt, where in fact there appears to have existed a similar condition of superstitious belief, Yoka found it ex- pedient to give to his general actions a mystic sense, the result of which was to inspire fear and dread in the hearts of all around him, rendering everybody submissive to his caprice. 32 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Yoka maintained that he possessed the means of direct communication with Ndoki, the Evil Spirit, and those simple minds, perplexed as they were by the mysteries of life, doubted not. In that land where life is precarious, where daily existence is threatened at every turn with danger and disease, every effort is made to propitiate the malevolent influences of the Evil Spirit, considered to be all-powerful. Thus far the narrative of Yoka's life and his at- tainment to power, although unusual, was in no way extraordinary. But, as the narrative continued, it grew in dramatic interest. In the easy flowing speech so peculiar to Afri- cans, they described with delightful simplicity the preparations that were made when their chief Ntuku decided to pay an official visit to the Head man of a neighbouring district, some two days march dis- tant, in connection with some petty question of state. From their description it became easy to picture the unwonted bustle and activity in the village on that occasion — the strange garments that were worn, incongruous cast-off clothing exported from Europe, which had been carefully concealed in the further- most corners of their huts. It appeared that about noon on the first day's march, the sun being hot, they halted under the friendly shade of leafy trees on a hillside. Here * The sorcerer (Musee de Nantes) From a bronze statue by the Author YOKA THE SORCERER 33 some quick eye detected in the distance the form of an elephant, browsing lazily in the high grass of the plain beneath them. The chief Ntuku, being a redoubtable hunter, stripped himself of his finery and started forth with his long-barrelled flintlock gun. Watched by his crowd of followers, the chief cautiously stalked his quarry. Approaching within fair distance of the elephant, Ntuku fired his antiquated flintlock gun. All was at once enveloped in a cloud of smoke. As the smoke cleared off, the elephant was seen with elevated head, and the struggling figure of the chief impaled upon one of his tusks: then casting aside the mangled body, the elephant shuffled off towards the distant forest. In spite of the fact that the elephant's tusk had penetrated his body, the chief still lived, and requested to be carried home to his village. A rough litter was soon constructed, and the party headed for home. Sorrowful they were, because Ntuku was a popular chief. Marching slowly until within half an hour of sunset, Ntuku motioned with his hand. By signs he asked for a pipe, and whilst he smoked his eyes were riveted upon the setting sun. Almost at the moment when the sun disappeared behind a distant range of hills, the pipe dropped from the chiefs mouth and he died. 34 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Here the native narrative branched off and dealt with the turning-point in Yoka's career. According to the custom of the country the chief's body was swathed in hundreds of yards of cotton cloth, and during the subsequent days of mourning when his wives wailed their laments, Yoka commenced to put into execution a dark scheme whereby he might accuse his enemies of having allied themselves with the elephant to compass the death of the chief. But in this Yoka overstepped the bounds of his influence. In vain he made efforts by threats, and even attempts at conciliation. All was in vain. His power was broken. The climax of the narrative described the tragic end of Yoka the Sorcerer. It appeared that one night, whilst the elders of the village were sitting around the fire, Yoka crept towards them unobserved. Then, springing towards the fire, grasping a keg of gunpowder above his head, the desperate man settled for ever the questions of power and influence and evil-doing. A huge illuminating flash, a deafening report, and the entire company were blown to pieces. I passed by the scene of the explosion on the day following and saw the leafless trees and debris. A Bateke Drawn by the Author THE MONKEY PEOPLE A sad mistake was made when Captain X of the Belgian army quartered three of his negro soldiers in the village of the savage Basoko, the "Monkey People" of Central Africa. Desiring to establish an outpost in that village, he laboured under the belief that the natives would not interfere with such a small force as three of his men, whereas by leaving a larger body of soldiers he would in all probability excite their hostility, for the Basoko were a wild people. In the captain's opinion he was acting for the best. He had observed a similar custom practised by the leading Arab buccaneers, further in the interior; but unfortunately he had failed to take note of a pre- caution which was of vital importance in their sys- tem. The Arab plunderers invariably subdued each turbulent tribe of savages before leaving their mere handful of half-armed representatives in their midst. The Basoko had never been subdued. The "Monkey People" had not yet heard the re- sounding report of firearms, and they still strutted arrogantly about their filthy village, wearing flutter- 35 36 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO ing feather head-dresses, and muttering caressing words to their glittering, keen-edged spears. Captain X's little company of West African Houssa irregulars were duly paraded. "Corporal Alakai!" "Yessir." "Sapristi! Corporal, where are your trousers?" "The natives, sir! Last night I sleep, they done tief 'em, sir." "Quel malheur! Ali Bussi! Tete Clever! Fall in!" The three negroes of incongruous height and ap- pearance, attired in tattered garments of gaudy col- ours, stepped from the ranks and saluted. "Attention! Corporal Alakai, I am going to leave you here with Bussi and Clever. In a few months I will return. Clean your guns every day. Here are cartridges. Do not fight. Here are glass beads to buy food. The chief, he promises me to be your friend. Sacre bleu! Ali Bussi! stand up! Do not catch flies while I give you orders. Corporal Alakai, here is your flag." The captain, who made this speech in broken English, then handed the corporal a faded flag — blue, with a golden star, the emblem of the newly formed Congo State. And it was thus that three negro soldiers from the Niger were left to uphold the dignity of the State alone among cannibals. Idols, Manyema In the collection of the Author THE MONKEY PEOPLE 37 When all was ready for departure, the moorings of the steam launch were cast off, and the little vessel drifted into mid-stream. The husky voices of the three Houssas, who were standing up to their waists in water, shouting guttural words of fare- well to their comrades, were altogether drowned by the yells of the savages, who danced bravely upon the bank. The little puff of steam which rose from the launch, followed instantly by a shrill whistle, caused a complete panic among the yelling warriors. A few moments later the little vessel, now travelling swiftly with the current, disappeared behind a forest- clad promontory on its journey of a thousand miles down the Congo. That same evening the three Houssas, with true African improvidence, celebrated the occasion by a prodigious feast of smoked fish, sugar-cane, and other expensive trifles, the purchase of which made an extravagant inroad into their scanty stock of glass beads. But after this first ebullition of joy, Corporal Alakai and his two companions settled down and lived quietly in their grass hut. After the first minute inspection of all their belongings the natives took but little notice of them. Although the strangeness of the native language at first barred the Houssas from entering into friendly conversation, yet they possessed ready wit enough to make their wants known. 38 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO If apparently but little noticed by the men, the female portion of the community soon came to re- gard them as continuous objects of attraction. The Basoko women — ill-favoured slaves — were always lurking around their hut, referring to them in gesture, and alternating their gossip by frequent shouts of derisive laughter. The environment of the three negro soldiers was typical of the country. Scarcely a day or a night passed without a savage orgy, followed generally by a sanguinary combat. The forest at the back of the village continually echoed the discordant cries and wails of erring women being beaten by their tyrant masters. Sickening vapours arose each day from the dew- sodden huts when the tropical sun poured forth its fierce heat and blinding glare. All was squalor, and the atmosphere was deeply charged with hor- rible smells. About a month after their arrival in Basoko, Cor- poral Alakai was stricken down with fever. One morning, while lying in his hut, carrying on a desul- tory conversation with his companions, some natives suddenly poked their heads through the small aper- ture which served for a door, saying: "Yaka! Sen-nen-ne! Ya-uku. ("Come with us. Come on the great river.") "Olau! Why?" inquired Ali Bussi. An Aruimi type From a bronze by the Author THE MONKEY PEOPLE 39 "We go to catch fine fish. Ya-uku! Come with us, friends; come and catch fish," they answered, speaking always their own language. Said Ali Bussi, in a persuading tone to Alakai: "Let us go! We can then bring you some good fresh fish." " Yes," added Tete Clever, as he placed a gourd of water within Alakai's reach. "Two days have passed since you took food. Let us go and obtain for you good food, O Alakai!" Alakai, usually so alert and active, was now listless. His eyeballs were glazed and bloodshot from the effects of fever, and he answered languidly: "Tor! Yes, friends; go if it please you." A few minutes after their departure, Alakai, in changing his position, caught sight of a bundle of small leather-covered scrips of the Koran, charms frequently used by the Houssas as a preservative against mis- fortune. "x\llah! but they have forgotten their hamalat; may they meet with no ill-luck," said he. During the whole day Alakai lay in a state of in- ertia. His limbs ached, but his brain was still active, and during the long noonday hours, when the heat was intense, Alakai's thoughts drifted back to life in his own land far away. In his fevered imagination he pictured to himself the delights and pleasures he would enjoy when his period of service on the Congo 40 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO was completed. He dozed during the afternoon until suddenly awakened by the beating of a pon- derous drum in the village. It was the first ap- pearance of the new moon, and the big signal drum boomed forth an invitation to the night dance. With a startled look at finding himself still alone, Alakai crawled to the door of his hut, and then walked with feeble steps toward the river bank, his heart filled with a strange foreboding of evil. The sun had just disappeared behind the distant trees, a cool breeze was springing up, and the great Congo River had assumed a dull, leaden colour. Alakai shaded his eyes and gazed across the placid sheet of water, but failed at first to see any sign of his companions' return. Peering through the fast- deepening twilight he at length however noticed a large war-canoe being propelled against the current by several natives. They staggered and splashed the water as they clumsily wielded their long- handled paddles. Alakai grew impatient at their slow approach. Later on, when his ear detected the echoing notes of a wild song, he muttered nervously to himself: "They are drunk. There will be yet another fight to-night. O Ali Bussi, come! Tete Clever, come back to me." As the huge canoe drew near to the bank, Alakai recognised some of the natives who had invited his THE MONKEY PEOPLE 41 companions to accompany them upon their fishing excursion; but to his dismay, neither of his com- panions was visible. With wild yells and drunken shouts the paddlers rushed their canoe towards the bank. Alakai was about to call, to ask after his comrades, when his eyes lit on a sight that chilled his blood. In the bottom of the canoe he saw a ghastly heap of human limbs. It instantly dawned upon him that his companions had been murdered by the drunken savages. The next moment his worst fears were realised — the sav- ages were wearing portions of his comrades' clothing. The canoe was now within a few feet of the bank, and crowds of excited natives from the village were assembling upon the shore, uttering hideous yells. They also had caught sight of the pile of flesh in the canoe. Alakai shivered with terror. Having murdered his two companions, he knew full well that they would next seek his own life. He crept stealthily in the deep shadows of the huts until he reached the forest. Then he fled for life, unheeding the lacerating thorns, stumbling and fall- ing in the darkness, until he found himself far away in the mighty forest. When too weak to proceed further, he collected his strength for a final effort. He clambered up a 42 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO festooned vine until he reached a convenient resting- place in the higher branches of a tree. Here he sank back exhausted, his head fell upon his breast, his limbs shook and his teeth chattered. Alone in the boundless forest, shattered with fever, without food, and the nearest State station more than five hundred miles away! The utter hopelessness of his position crushed his spirit, and during the next few days Alakai some- times remained motionless for hours together, gaz- ing vacantly upon the ground. He was far out of reach of all friendly aid. He knew the natives were hunting him, and he felt pre- pared at any moment to hear their dreaded voices. He shivered at the thought. The forest and slow starvation appeared to be his only prospect. He roamed about the gloomy woods by day, and each night he clambered into the branches of some tree to escape falling a prey to prowling leopards. As each day passed Alakai found himself growing rapidly weaker. His only food consisted of raw roots, and the fat white worms he found in rotting wood. The air of the forest reeked with pungent odours of rank, decaying vegetation ; the ground was covered knee-deep with wet, sodden leaves, upon which whole armies of spiteful ants crawled in all directions. Overhead, there was no cheering glimpse of the sky, nothing but the dense canopy of foliage. THE MONKEY PEOPLE 43 All was gloom wherever the feeble man strayed. The grim silence of the forest was only occasionally broken by the call-note of some passing bird, the chattering of monkeys gambolling in the tree-tops, and at night, when the depressing gloom deepened into utter darkness, the forest echoed with the hoarse croaking of frogs. Nearly thirty days passed by, and Alakai, the once bright and active soldier, was reduced to a pitiable condition. During whole days he would sit upon the sodden ground, rocking himself to and fro, driv- elling as one bereft of reason. The strain was under- mining his mental power and as each day passed, his mind became more and more centred upon the rich plantations of the village from which he had fled. His body craved food, and the pangs of hunger led him tottering back each day nearer to the savages' plantations. He was now no longer deterred by fear of capture. At all risks he decided to once more munch sweet sugar-cane and maize. One morning Alakai awoke to find himself lying in a pool of water beside a decaying log. It had rained heavily during the night, and a flowing stream had formed a pool around him. He arose with difficulty, for his limbs were stiff and numbed with cold. His scanty clothing hung in tattered remnants upon his wasted body, and as he 44 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO straightened himself he became dizzy, staggered, and fell fainting upon the ground. When he recovered consciousness the bees were humming, it was noon. In the distance he heard the booming of a drum. It was the signal drum of Basoko. With faltering steps he picked his way through the dense under- growth, now clambering over fallen trees, and then creeping along the sandy bed of a shallow stream upon his hands and knees. The low booming of the drum continued, and Alakai laboured bravely onwards, as though drawn towards the sound by some mystic spell. The boom- ing of the drum awakened in his heart a half sad feeling of relief. In his disordered fancy the signal drum was calling him, it was sounding forth a mes- sage that his sufferings were nearly over. Buoyed up by visions of an abundant feast in the native plantations, he struggled onwards until he reached the skirts of the forest. There before him lay the long dreamed-of plantation. But at first the glare of the sun blinded him : he had not seen the sun for thirty days. With aching eyes and shaking limbs he entered the field of ripening maize and commenced to eat ravenously, with tears of weakness and emotion coursing down his grimy cheeks. After a while he became so overpowered with a feeling of drowsiness that he lay back upon the THE MONKEY PEOPLE 45 ground and was soon in heavy slumber. He dreamt that he heard voices — harsh, cruel voices. Awakening suddenly, he found himself surrounded by several shouting native women. At first he was dazed, but the grim reality of his position soon dawned upon him, for the next moment he was hauled to his feet and roughly dragged towards the village by his captors — a dozen strong-armed naked women, who shrieked and laughed with savage exultation. He cast a despairing glance upon the cruel faces of his captors, and his heart sank within him. In the hands of these merciless savages he knew that a hor- rible fate was in store for him, and he doubted not that he was being led to death. Upon reaching the village, Alakai was thrown violently to the ground, and his wrists were bound together behind his back. In the meantime crowds of natives gathered round him, chattering and shout- ing incessantly. In the midst of the uproar a weird chant was heard. The noisy voices were hushed. Presently a party of singing women approached and heralded the great magician, the "Woto-ya-boti." The magician, whose body was grotesquely daubed with coloured pigments, bounded forward and exe- cuted a fantastic dance. The savage mob droned a monotonous chant, and kept time by clapping their hands. 46 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Halting suddenly and striking a grotesque attitude, the magician said, speaking in a sepulchral tone: — "Listen all men! It is the day of the new moon. All night we must sing and dance to the good ' Moon Spirit/ Misfortune will fall upon us if we shed blood while the new moon is in the sky, or even be- fore the next sun rises. O men of Basoko!" The magician's speech was followed by murmurs of disapproval. Alakai was then bound, hands and feet, to the rough trunk of a palm-tree, and two or three young savages, with glistening spears, mounted guard over him. When night came, all the wooden drums in the village boomed forth a message of invitation to dance to the good spirit of the new moon. Alakai looked on in abject misery, at the prepa- rations for the dance. Numbers of crackling log fires were built up, from which blue smoke arose in unbroken columns in the still night air. With joyous shouts both men and women later on com- menced the night dance. They formed themselves into two rows, parties from each side then advanced and receded, with sinuous movements of their bodies, the whole gathering at the same time chanting a monotonous song. Hundreds of naked feet stamped and shuffled upon the ground, their heavy iron bracelets and THE MONKEY PEOPLE 47 anklets jingling and clashing in unison. The deep bass voices of the men followed the shrill falsetto of the women, as each in turn pranced forward, wriggled their bodies, and retired to their column. The fitful, lurid light of the log fires reflected upon the perspiring bodies of the dancers and their highly polished metal ornaments. The broad-leafed ba- nana-trees and the graceful palms stood out in bold relief against the clear night sky. The hundreds of chanting voices echoed clearly in the distant forest and across the river. The entire scene with its deep night shadows was both weird and picturesque ; but the suffering Alakai remained numbed and indifferent to the wild chants and uncanny antics of the savages. The hours passed slowly, and at midnight gusts of wind whistled through the branches overhead. A storm of cold rain swept over the village, but still the dance was continued with unflagging spirits. The young men, however, who acted as guards over Alakai slunk off to shelter beneath the eaves of a grass hut, where they huddled up together. Sounds of heavy breathing were soon heard from the little group — they too were sleeping! Alakai strained and pulled at his bonds until at length he succeeded in freeing his hands. To untie the knotted cords that secured his legs was but a matter of a few moments. At last ! The cords were 48 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO loose. Alakai's heart beat wildly. Now was his chance to make a dash for liberty. He crept forward. But his effort was in vain. His limbs were numbed, and he fell helpless to the ground with a groan of agony. Instantly the sleeping guards sprang upon him. One young savage wantonly prodded him with his spear. "Hold, Ngengenwe! Shed no blood before sun- rise; it will bring misfortune upon us." But the cruel spear had pierced Alakai's breast, and a tiny stream of blood trickled to the ground. Alakai was again made fast to the palm-tree, his bonds being drawn so tight that the grass plaited cords cut into his flesh. The rain ceased, the fires burnt low, and the voices of the dancers became husky. The gloom increased; it was the hour before the dawn. Alakai's mind was filled with disjointed fancies. He started ! A sound ! He raised his head to listen. It was the fluttering of birds roosting in the tree-tops; they were commencing to plume themselves. The song of the dancers gradually died away; the village was hushed, only the hum of myriads of mosquitoes filled the air. A gaunt pariah dog oc- casionally prowled close past Alakai, sniffing the ground in search of food. When the first gray light of dawn appeared, the village was wrapped in slumber. The picturesque THE MONKEY PEOPLE 49 night-scene was slowly deprived of all its charm. The huts were sodden with rain, the muddy paths were littered with palm-fronds and rubbish and the log fires were burnt out, leaving only heaps of white ashes. As the light increased, the birds flew off in quest of food; the cane doors of the native huts creaked as they were thrust aside, and dark figures appeared. Before long the village was once more animated, and the natives cast furtive glances in the direction of their prisoner. Alakai looked on with a stony stare as a group of armed natives approached him. Their head-dresses were bedraggled and awry, and their sullen faces bore traces of the night's exertions. As they gathered in a crowd round Alakai, they muttered angry curses upon the cold. The grey sky grew brighter, and delicate sunbeams appeared. Hark! A gun-shot! The natives glance at one another in alarm. A wild shout arises from a distant part of the village. " Watamba-tamba ! The Arab slavers! Run! Run!" Gun-shots were now heard in rapid succession. The clear morning air was soon filled with hideous shrieks and groans, the clatter of spears, women's screams, and hurrying footsteps. Alakai was now unconscious. 50 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO From all sides white-turbaned figures rushed into the village, capturing men, women, and children, and ruthlessly shooting at other natives more fleet of foot who were speeding to the forest. The dreaded Arab buccaneers had at last attacked Basoko. The "Monkey People" were receiving their first lesson in submission. The white-robed Arabs, guns in hand, soon ran- sacked the village, and in their search for ivory pestles, war horns, and other valuables they dis- covered Alakai, bound to the palm-tree. "Tutu! ame kufa" ("He's dead! leave him"), said an Arab. " Siyo bwana ! " (" No ! See ! He breathes ") , re- plied a half-caste, unsheathing his dagger and cutting the bonds. Alakai fell forward heavily. The Houssa tribal marks, three deep gashes on each cheek, instantly attracted the attention of the Arabs. They recognised him as being of the State service and they treated him kindly. Some months later they handed him over to a Belgian officer of the Congo Independent State, who subsequently passed him over to me at Bangala, saying that he was no good, that he had no sense. THE MONKEY PEOPLE 51 By degrees, and at long intervals, I gathered to- gether the foregoing incidents of Alakai's adventures among the " Monkey People." Although he retained a certain intelligence, his mind was badly shaken, and he was unable to perform the most trivial duty. He was treated by all with sympathetic indulgence. Alakai would sit alone for hours gazing blankly: his voice was seldom heard. His spirit was broken. He lived in nervous dread of every one around him. Sometimes a group of little children would play about him. Once I remarked a little baby girl, a sweet chubby little black figure, toddling towards him, carrying a snarling pariah puppy by its leg. She attempted to climb upon Alakai's knees. The little puppy was dropped to the ground and yelped. Alakai, startled, jumped to his feet; then looking upon the little child he patted her head and his poor sad face lit up and beamed with pleasure. The little children were Alakai's only companions. NGANGA NKISSI In the village of Mayumbula there dwelt a famous native wizard named Lubaki, at once the most re- nowned and dreaded man in all the district. He was known as "Nganga Nkissi," the charm doctor, and he belonged to the association of crafty men who represent themselves as being in league with the spirit world, and who thrive by imposing upon the super- stitious natives. So great was Lubaki's influence that he absolutely ruled the minds and lives of all the inhabitants of Mayumbula. Chiefs, freemen and slaves were alike under the evil sway of this subtle- minded impostor. During many months' residence in the district I succeeded in gaining to a certain extent the confi- dence of the natives ; I tended them in sickness, and I studied their language. At first the people were shy and reserved, owing doubtless to their fear of exciting the jealousy of the great Lubaki, and the most prominent of my native friends was a man named Mavonda N'zau, "The Elephant Killer." He was celebrated for his physical bravery, and, indeed, he distinguished himself many times when 52 NGANGA NKISSI 53 accompanying me upon my wanderings. Unhap- pily the friendship that sprang up between Mavonda N'zau and myself aroused Lubaki's jealousy. By every means in his power the wily charm-doctor en- deavoured to slander and to injure the one man whose popularity threatened to interfere with his own influence upon the people. So persistent and malig- nant were the efforts of Lubaki, that before long Mavonda N'zau found himself shunned and event- ually persecuted by his kinsmen. His life was threatened, and often he was forced to seek refuge in my camp. One day the poor man came rushing towards me in a condition of despair. His only son, a bright little lad ten years old, had been kidnapped, and Mavonda N'zau feared that he had been sold as a slave by Lubaki to a caravan of native ivory-traders who had passed the village of Mayumbula the pre- vious day on their way up country. Filled with pity for the poor fellow, I undertook to make inves- tigations, and at once hastened after the caravan, but I found no trace of Mavonda N'zau's son. Re- turning again to Mayumbula, I found to my horror that Lubaki had availed himself of my absence to perpetrate another scheme of jealous revenge. In the market-place he had publicly accused the wife of Mavonda N'zau, and the mother of the kidnapped boy, of sorcery. 54 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO According to native custom, a person accused of sorcery is obliged to submit to a poison ordeal, a test to indicate their guilt or innocence. Upon the occasions of accusation of sorcery it is customary for the unfortunate prisoner to partake of a draught of "nkasa," a poisonous decoction pre- pared from the bark of a special tree. The draught is usually administered at sunrise. During the day numbers of the prisoner's kinsmen congregate upon the scene, where, half intoxicated with palm- juice, they dance around the wretched victim, to whom they offer every species of cruel insult. If by sunset the "nkasa" poison should act as an emetic, the fact is accepted as demonstrating innocence. The simple- minded heathen agree that obviously no evil spirit lay concealed within the body of the accused. On the other hand, should the "nkasa" drug prove a fatal poison, then the justice of the ordeal is fairly estab- lished. Every one is then satisfied that the accusa- tion of sorcery has been brought home to the right person and that the evil spirit has been satisfactorily exterminated. The most iniquitous phase of the or- deal is perhaps to be found in the fact that the Nganga Nkissi regulates the strength of the nkasa according to his intentions when administering it to his victim. The judicious expenditure of a few beads, or a kit of fowls, upon the part of the accused friends, is known to influence the potency of the poison draught. Nyanga Nkissi, the witch doctor Drawn by the Author NGANGA NKISSI 55 A day was appointed for the wife of Mavonda N'zau to submit herself to the ceremony of "find- ing the evil spirit." Lubaki was to officiate as the administrator of the poison, and my anticipation of the result of the ordeal offered no prospect of hope; I felt assured that the poor woman's life was doomed. From the stray remarks I overheard from the natives around the village fires during the night, I thought I had gained a clue to the locality in which the ceremony was to take place. But unfortunately I was misled; I searched the district in all direc- tions, hastening from one wood to another, inquiring eagerly of every native I met, without result. The sun had already risen four hours before I appeared upon the actual scene. Drawing near to a small strip of forest, growing in the alluvial deposit of a ravine, several miles from Mayumbula, I was suddenly warned of danger by hearing native voices forbidding me to pass. I was, however, by this time so exasperated by Lubaki's inhuman persecutions that I paid no heed to the threatening shouts and forced my way through the scrub. Several guns were fired at me, the gunpowder smoke arose from the bushes on all sides, and small stones and iron slugs whistled over my head. Still I rushed forward through the thicket, until I found myself in an open space, in the middle of the wood, 56 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO where the long grass and undergrowth had been trampled. There, lying groaning upon the ground, I found Mavonda N'zau's wife. She had already partaken of the fatal draught, and was even now apparently in her death agony. I raised her in my arms in order to administer an emetic with which I had pro- vided myself. The gaudy-coloured paints that had been smeared upon her body by her barbarous accusers, stained my clothes. The natives who were hiding in the underscrub called repeatedly to me to leave her. "White man go — leave that woman — she har- bours an evil spirit in her body!" Alas! I had arrived too late to save her life. Her face was distorted with agony. Her hands were clenched, her body shook convulsively, she gasped, and her head fell back. As she died, the yells and shouts of her heathen kinsmen filled the air. When at length I left the forest I was half- deafened by the jeers and harsh laughter of the natives, all of them too cowardly to come forth and face me. One night shortly after this tragedy, and whilst poor Mavonda N'zau lay half delirious with fever, I was awakened by the loud report of a gun, fired within a few feet of my tent. I sprang from my bed and rushed out into the darkness, just in time to rec- s^ NGANGA NKISSI 57 ognise, by the flickering light of a wood fire, the face and form of Lubaki. He was running, with half- crouching body, from a cloud of smoke. Filled with a conviction that some fresh villainy had been enacted, I pursued him; but he eluded me by doubling among the bushes and the intricate paths. Numbers of excited natives rushed about in every direction, all eagerly inquiring the meaning of the gun-shot in the night. I returned to the place where I had heard the shot fired, and as I drew near my ear was smitten by sounds of wailing and woe. My presentiment of evil was fully endorsed by my sub- sequent discovery. Mavonda N'zau had been mur- dered ! Under cover of darkness Lubaki had evidently crept close to the hut in which Mavonda N'zau lay stricken with fever, and inserting the barrel of his flint-lock gun through the plaited grass wall, he had fired a deadly charge of iron slugs into the body of his victim. The following day I visited the native chief, who resided in an adjoining village, and formally accused Lubaki of murder. The Nganga Nkissi was prompt- ly captured, and bound to a stake to await his pun- ishment. Hitherto this ruffian had been held in awe, and no man had dared to utter a word of protest against his iniquitous practices, but the cold-blooded treachery of this murder had produced a revulsion 58 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO of feeling among the people. Lubaki's evil spell was henceforth forever broken. One day — it happened to be the day of a great na- tive market which was to be held on an adjacent hill crest — the village was almost deserted. The only distinct sounds were the occasional wail of an infant and the snarling of pariah dogs as they prowled about in search of food. Snatches of a conversation which was being carried on by two women, suggested that something was about to happen. The day was bright and clear. In the distance I could dis- tinguish a large dark crowd of natives gathered on the hill top. A gentle breeze was blowing from that direction, conveying an indistinct murmur, and drawing nearer I could hear the rising and falling inflections of hundreds of excited voices. In the centre of the market-place, Lubaki the "Nganga Nkissi" had been buried in a hole, from which his head was alone visible. The village exe- cutioner, a muscular native, was bidden forward by the chief. He carried in his arms a large rock, weighing at least a hundredweight. At a given word, the great stone fell upon Lubaki's head. Witch rattle, Bangala In the collection of the Author THE FUNERAL OF AN AFRICAN CHIEF Official duties necessitated my visiting the district of Bolobo, a flourishing and densely populated series of native villages situated on the south bank of the great Congo River, about six hundred miles from the Atlantic coast. The natives of Bolobo, like most other primitive Africans, are keen traders, dealing mostly in natural produce and using cloth, ivory, iron, and slaves as mediums of currency. Although not cannibals, they are notoriously cruel, frequently torturing their slaves in most barbarous and inhuman fashions. In appearance, the people of Bolobo represent a somewhat higher form than usual, of the negro Bantu type. They are notoriously avaricious, and are known to be the richest and most successful traders of the Middle Congo. Some few days before my arrival the great chief of Bolobo had died, and I found the district in a state of wild excitement, for on the particular day of my visit the body of the chief was to be buried 59 60 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO in state, with all the peculiar and ghastly obsequies characteristic of heathen African savages. Taking with me four armed negro soldiers, I strolled along the narrow village streets, through avenues luxuriant with palms and banana-trees, in the direction of the palaver-ground — a cleared space in front of the dead chiefs former abode. In the distance I could hear the mournful wailing of many women, and it was in that direction I turned my steps. On my way I passed several groups of sullen-faced savages, standing half-concealed in the dense foliage. Armed with murderous-looking knives and spears, the men wore feather head-dresses, and their faces were blackened with palm-oil and charcoal: they scarcely acknowledged my salutation, and they all seemed excited and absorbed in conversation. Drawing near to the place from whence the wailing women's laments filled the air, I noticed several naked men and women, with their arms and legs manacled, and their necks secured in the branched forks of heavy poles. These unhappy people, I learnt, were the slaves and wives of the deceased chief. A few steps further brought me within view of a most extraordinary spectacle. In the middle of a clear space — the palaver- ground, surrounded by grass huts, backed by a tall palm forest — about three hundred naked women, ° ft THE FUNERAL OF AN AFRICAN CHIEF 61 their faces and bodies bedaubed with white and red chalk, were kneeling and swaying their bodies to and fro, as if keeping time to their sorrowful moaning. In the centre of this curious gathering the body of the dead chief was placed in a sitting posture upon a wooden dais. The head was surmounted by a huge feather head-dress. The face and body were painted white, with a broad black stripe about two inches wide extending down the face from forehead to chin. The body, which was visible to the waist, was dotted with large yellow spots, and the arms were painted red. Two old crockery soup-plates — obtained in course of barter from the coast traders — were placed on each breast, supported by a string around the body. Inside the arms were placed the decorated stocks of two inverted flintlock guns. A strip of yellow cloth was tied around the neck and elbows, and upon each wrist was placed a collection of highly polished iron bracelets. In front of the body, upon the ground, stood an array of quaint wooden images, fetishes and charms of every description common to the people of that district. Although it was late in the afternoon the air was hot and heavy and the crying women's energetic demonstrations of woe caused streaks of perspiration to trickle down their painted bodies. The uproar of the mourners became so distressing to me that I turned away and strolled in a maze of small side- 62 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO paths. Here I continued to meet groups of armed and excited natives eagerly engaged in discussing some momentous topic, and I also discovered several more captives bound to the centre posts of the grass huts. Although upon ordinary occasions a white man's presence in their villages would have created no small sensation, I was surprised to find that little heed was paid to me, and I was allowed to wander unmolested among the huts. Almost immediately after sunset a series of huge bonfires were lit at one end of the principal village. Hastening forward I found a gathering of two or three hundred natives, with fluttering feather head- dresses and clanging metal ornaments, dancing in a state of absolute frenzy. The sound of their deep bass voices as they sang, the incessant drum-beat- ing, and the distant wailing of the mourners created an indescribable uproar. The air was filled with dust and was tainted with the smell of heated Af- rican bodies and a sickly odour from the log fires. The evening breeze occasionally wafted the columns of smoke across the wild revellers, momentarily hid- ing them from view. By the lurid glow of the huge log fires, despite the almost fiendish appearance of the savages, I was deeply impressed with the vivid effect of the scene, with its action, and with its striking contrasts. THE FUNERAL OF AN AFRICAN CHIEF 63 As my eyes grew more accustomed to the sur- roundings I observed many natives dancing at the edge of a deep hole which had been recently dug in the ground. Whilst leaning forward to obtain a clearer view, and conjecturing upon the object of the wild proceedings, I was startled by a mighty shout uttered from hundreds of hoarse throats. Turn- ing, I saw several men forcing their way through the multitude in the direction of the dark abyss. A jingling sound of bells heralded a procession of dancing figures, whose forms stood forth in bold relief as they passed in front of the blazing fires. A space was cleared in front of the hole and in a. few moments there bounded forward the great charm-doctor, painted and bedecked with leopard skins and rattling charms, outward tokens of the absolute ruler of the destinies of heathen African savages. This hideous looking creature, with whitened eye- lids and body smeared with fowls' brains and blood, commenced the dance of death. With sinuous move- ments of the body he pranced around the clear space, kicking up a perfect cloud of dust, and chanting a quaint savage song. Round and round, each time faster, whirled the uncanny figure. At length he stopped, bathed in perspiration, dusty and bedraggled, and seated himself at the edge of the hole. 64 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Another hideous shout rent the air. Ten women, the former wives of the deceased chief, with hands and feet bound, were dragged forward and placed upon the ground in front of the charm-doctor. Shortly afterwards a number of young men, for- mer slaves of the chief, were also brought forward to the brink of the hole. Then amidst a scene of wild confusion the corpse of the great chief, now swathed in yards of cotton and grass cloth, was borne forward. Above the heads of the swaying crowd I caught sight of dark bodies being hurled into the hole. I could just distinguish the agonised shrieks of women — the unfortunate wives who were being sacrificed. The body of the chief was next placed in the hole. The crowd surged and swayed and shouted even more vociferously than ever when a hundred hands commenced to heave the earth into the living tomb of the chiefs wives, who were thus buried alive. Hemmed in by the crowd, I found myself unable to retire from the horrible scene. The hole was soon filled in, and crowds of natives then danced upon the spot. The first of the slaves was now brought forward. His head was fixed in a framework, suspended to an overhanging branch. A bright gleam of the ex- ecutioner's knife, followed by a frantic yell from the THE FUNERAL OF AN AFRICAN CHIEF 65 multitude, denoted that the first of the numerous band of the late chief's slaves had been decapitated. Shocked by the sight I made a final and successful effort to escape from the ghastly scene. A few minutes brought me to the river-side, where my canoe was moored. A few hasty words to my fol- lowers, and we drifted out upon the river. A white fog and darkness soon hid the Bolobo shore from our sight, but the entire night was haunted by the roar of voices and the sound of incessant drum- beating. TIPPO TIB 1 The most prominent of all the so-called Arabs en- gaged in Central African slave-raiding was Tippo Tib. His real name was Hamad bin Mohammed; his father was a half-caste Arab of Zanzibar, and his mother was a full-blooded African slave from Mrima near Tanganyika. The nickname "Tippo Tib" was bestowed upon him by the natives, who with their natural system of native expression, ever simple and literal in its methods, found a spontaneous and appropriate name by associating the famous Arab leader with the unwonted sound of gun-firing, whence the derivation of "tip, tip," or "Tippo Tib." Tippo Tib's experiences of savage Africa were unique. It is difficult to imagine that any man could have passed through more exciting adventures than he; surely no man of our epoch has witnessed more bloodshed and suffering. He was a tall, powerfully built man, with short, grizzly beard, very black skin, discoloured eyeballs, thick lips, beautifully white teeth and afflicted with 1 Tippo Tib died near Zanzibar in 1907. 66 TIPPO TIB 67 a peculiar nervous twitching of the eyelids. He was benevolent in appearance and gentle in his manner. He impressed me as being courteous and dignified. He seemed to be full of restrained force. To me personally he was always kind and amiable, and it is recorded that on many occasions he rendered val- uable assistance to European travellers, more espe- cially perhaps to Livingstone, Cameron, Stanley and Weissmann. He was possessed of personal virtues which contrasted strangely with his professional de- pravity. The advent of the Arab slave-raiders in the coun- try to the west of Nyangwe under the command of the notorious Tippo Tib dates from the year 1877,, the year in which Stanley accomplished his mem- orable journey across Africa from Zanzibar to the mouth of the river Congo. It was due in fact to the accomplishment of this famous journey of Stanley's that the Arab slave-raiders combined to- gether and followed Stanley westward down the Lualaba River. Nyangwe had hitherto been their furthermost western point. By following Stanley down the Lualaba River as far as the rapids of Kizingiti, more popularly known as Stanley Falls, the Arabs entered uninterruptedly upon what was to them a veritable Eldorado. They were quick to avail themselves of the chance of plundering the enormous regions wherein primitive 68 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO savages had accumulated great stores of elephant tusks. For over twenty years an enormous area of country became the hunting-ground of Arab free- booters. The prowling hordes of man-hunters were vanquished in the year 1897, their final downfall being accomplished by the late Baron Dhanis, a Belgian officer of great ability. The account of the overthrow of the Arabs has been most graphically described by Mr. Hinde, 1 who accompanied Baron Dhanis throughout his campaign. During the years 1887-88, when the infamous traffic of the Arab slave-raiders was at its height, circum- stances led me to pass many months in the central region of the Arabs' operations, where incidents of gross barbarity were of almost daily occurrence. The tusks of elephants have always been esteemed as currency, for purposes of purchase and exchange. To this fact may be attributed the attempts of the Arab raiders to penetrate the remote regions where stores of ivory had been accumulated through un- interrupted ages. The scene of their operations was in the vicinity of the native villages where the forest was generally more or less clear, the larger trees being cut down some twenty or thirty feet from the ground by means of a stage of poles, a process which saves the extra labour of cutting through the base of the hardwood trees the tall trunks of which, left » "The Fall of the Congo Arabs," by S. L. Hinde (Methuen). Tippo Tib Photograph taken by the Author TIPPO TIB 69 standing, resemble ghostly ruined columns, partic- ularly by moonlight; whilst the enormous limbs that have been cut off are generally left lying around the village to serve as a means of protection against the danger of sudden attack. Occasionally an encircling stockade of logs sur- rounds a village; the narrow gateway, scarcely wide enough for an ordinary man to squeeze through, being provided with a heavy log suspended from above, after the fashion of a portcullis. The villages themselves were composed of groups of meagre and dilapidated grass huts. The erratic path followed by the Arabs was thick with mud and littered with decaying vegetation, and was underlaid by a slippery network of roots, while the lofty stately forest trees towering over- head created a perpetual semi-darkness. Below, young trees and thick bushes all strove for mastery. No sun's rays ever penetrated this grim solitude. Hornbills and eagles lived aloft, monkeys in the branches, and ants of various species held sway below. It seemed as if Nature had run wild in the magnificent profusion and wreckage of timber, the whole scheme of the forest giving an impression of excess — a superabundance of generosity. The general custom of the raiding Arabs was to surprise the village, and to capture as many as possi- ble of the fleeing natives. The captives were subse- 70 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO quently liberated upon the payment of tusks of ivory as ransom. When it appeared that the na- tives' store of elephant tusks was totally exhausted, friendly overtures were made by the Arabs, and in a short space of time the utmost good-humour would apparently exist between the natives and their for- mer persecutors. The natives bore no malice. They regarded the Arabs in the light of men who had made a good bargain. The element of power is omnipotent in the savage mind. The native inhabitants of that part of the great Congo forest were typical savages, whose lives were largely identified with brutality and cannibalism. Under the baneful influence of the Arabs these sav- age attributes were encouraged, and in most of the Arab raiding expeditions there were bands of na- tives themselves who aided the raiders by piloting them towards the village homes of their neighbours. Their reward for so doing consisted of the bodies of their kinsmen who were slain in the attack. It was no unusual experience to witness the women of a native caravan, who were acting as allies of the Arab raiders, carrying portions of human flesh in baskets slung upon their backs by means of a band which passed across their foreheads, to serve as provisions for their journey. In this way the marauders were led, under the guid- ance of the natives themselves, and similar proceed- TIPPO TIB 71 ings would commence in an adjacent district, the customary compact always being agreed upon, which allotted the bodies of the slain and wounded for consumption as recompense to the guides for their services. With such slight variations in their methods as may have been due to circumstances, the hordes of half-caste cut-throats conducted their nefarious crusades during upwards of twenty years. The natives were armed merely with knives and spears. In spite of long practice in the kind of petty warfare that is common to the wild tribes of Africa, they were absolutely wanting in the elements of simple organisation which would aid them to repel an attack made by a superior force. Hitherto, in the peculiar warfare they had practised against each other they had at least fought upon condi- tions of more or less equality; but the advent of the Arabs confounded them, and the native tribes soon disbanded. The despairing savages, driven from their former homes, mystified and cowed, took ref- uge in the wildest and most inaccessible parts of the forest, where they were reduced to preying upon each other after the manner of wild beasts. With reference to the slave-raiders it should be remembered that although they consisted of com- panies of half-castes of Arab and African blood, the majority of the men were natives from the great 72 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Manyama country. These same Manyama, born under the Arab yoke — for it is many years since that country fell into the hands of the marauders from Zanzibar — had grown up under lawless conditions, and subsequently became professional men-hunters under leaders of Arab extraction, who organised and planned their methods of attack. 5JJ Jfc ^ * * In company with Tippo Tib and several Arab chiefs I witnessed a tragedy. From a village on the opposite bank, above the Stanley Falls where the current was powerful, two natives manned a large canoe and paddled towards us. Soon they found themselves powerless to combat the swift current, and each moment they were swept nearer to the roaring Falls. I shall always remember the piteous attitude of the poor men on the brink of the Falls, just before the canoe plunged down ; their gestures of clutching the air, as the canoe was swept over and disappeared in the roaring torrent. The Arabs remained unmoved. One of them quietly remarked: "It was a pity to lose such a fine canoe." At Kizingiti, during one of our long evening con- versations, I inquired of Tippo Tib the reason for his inhabiting such miserable quarters. I said in Kiswahili : TIPPO TIB 73 "See! The rain comes through your roof, rats run over your floor, the wind blows through your walls. Yet this is the house of Tippo Tib, the Arab chief." "Ah!" he replied, "it is better that I should live in a house like this, because it makes me remember that I am only an ordinary man, like others. If I lived in a fine house with comforts I should per- haps end by thinking too much of myself." Tippo Tib lived alone. On one occasion when I was staying as the guest of Tippo Tib there was a great commotion. The Arabs were greatly excited and reported that there had been a miracle. A tree which had for many weeks lain upon the ground had suddenly re-erected itself again during the night. The explanation of the matter I found to be very simple. It appeared that in cutting firewood, some women had docked the branches of the fallen tree. Being relieved of the weight of its branches, its powerful roots which still remained in the ground had drawn it up again to an upright position. *t* *j? i* *f 'i* How incongruous it all was, that the Arabs, who persecuted and butchered the natives without the slightest sentiment of mercy, were all earnestly de- vout in their religious observances! 74 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO I was always impressed by the scrupulous per- sonal cleanliness of the Arab leaders; their regard for appearances contrasted so strangely with the surroundings. As a rule in camp they wore spot- less white robes, and I remember noticing the effect that these white garments produced upon the forest savages. Accustomed as they were to a perpetual environment of half-tone colour in everything around them, the Arabs' white robes represented to them a complete novelty. I frequently observed the natives shielding their eyes when in the presence of the Arabs, for the white robes appeared to be even more daz- zling to their eyes than the light of the sun itself. In answer to a missionary who was calling him to account for the awful massacres and the appall- ing number of lives for which he was responsible, Tippo Tib replied blandly: "Ah, yes ! You see, I was then a young man. Now, look! my hair is turning grey. I am an old man, and shall have more consideration." A well-known saying among Tippo Tib's Arabs was: "The gun is the King of Africa." THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN DEANE The name of Captain Deane will always be re- membered in Congo history as the defender of Stanley Falls against the attack of the Arabs in 1886. Captain Deane's adventures in the Congo region of Central Africa were varied and dramatic. The following cursory outline of the deeds which charac- terised the closing chapters of his career will afford some idea of his physical pluck and his singular powers of endurance. In the early part of the year 1886, Captain Deane, who had already seen considerable active service in the newly created Congo Independent State, was instructed to proceed to the far interior and to take command of the State station at the Falls. The object of his mission was to afford protection to the natives, by preventing the Arab buccaneers from continuing their bloodthirsty raids. In the previous year, Captain Deane and his fol- lowers had already met with a tragic disaster when on their way to the same destination. In a labyrinth 75 76 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO of channels of the Upper Congo River known as Monungeri, about fourteen hundred miles from the coast, the savages attacked his camp at midnight during a heavy storm. Captain Deane was very severely wounded, a spear penetrating his left thigh. Nearly half his negro soldiers were killed. About the same time that Captain Deane was about to make his second attempt to reach his post, after a tardy recovery from his wound, I was appointed to the command of the station of Bangala, a very popu- lous district midway between Stanley Falls and Stanley Pool, which, it may be well to mention, are separated by a distance of eleven hundred miles. As our journeys lay in the same direction, we trav- elled five hundred miles together, as far as Bangala. On the way we halted one day at Lukolela, and visited the grave of an Englishman, Kemble Keys, who had been killed by a buffalo in 1884. With a sentiment of sympathy for our unfortunate country- man, we cleared away the tangled undergrowth and rearranged the piles of stones that marked the lonely resting-place of a brave young fellow. In doing so we each preserved a few leaves from a tropical vine that grew upon the spot. In due time we separated. Ten months passed away, and in the meantime I had occasion to travel down country to the caravan track of the cataract region. One evening I pitched my tent beside a O ^ § i THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN DEANE 77 native market-place where the noisy Africans bab- bled and quarrelled over their gourds of frothy palm wine. Suddenly I heard distant shouts, and above the hubbub of the market I distinguished the notes of the Zanzibari caravan song. Soon I detected the advancing leaders, loaded with boxes, rifles, and other odds and ends of equipment which figure in every white man's march in Central Africa. A few minutes later I observed two stalwart na- tives bearing a hammock upon a pole. I advanced, and as the hammock was lowered I saw first a thin wasted hand and then a blanched haggard face with sunken eyes, which I was shocked to recognise as that of Captain Deane. As I helped the thin, feeble figure to alight, I could scarcely believe that it was the same man with whom I had parted but a few short months before. That evening when all was quiet, Captain Deane lay before my camp fire and in a feeble voice he related the story of his ad- ventures at the Falls, and he told me of the tragic disasters which had attended his mission. It appeared that very shortly after Captain Deane reached his destination, the Arabs took offence at the way in which he commenced to fortify the little station which was situated in their midst. By the Administration Captain Deane had been promised additional forces and an increased supply of am- munition, in order that he might be adequately 78 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO equipped for all emergencies. But the promise was not fulfilled and Captain Deane was doomed. Owing to the great distance from the station of Stanley Pool, which was then the base of supplies for the Upper Congo, the river steamers were only despatched to the Falls at long intervals, ranging over six to nine months, and consequently Captain Deane had to give up all hope of relying upon ex- tra aid. His forces consisted of a second in com- mand, Lieutenant Dubois, a Belgian [army officer; about eighty Houssa soldiers, negroes from the west coast of Africa; and sixty savages, recruits from the cannibal tribes of Bangala. Within a month of Captain Deane's arrival it became evident to him, on account of the large forces of fighting men who were daily taking up their quarters in the vicinity, that the Arabs were enter- taining hostile intentions. A crisis soon arrived. A native woman, a slave of the Arabs, one day fled to Captain Deane's sta- tion for protection, affirming that she had been brutally ill-used. The poor woman was befriended and upon an assurance for her future good treat- ment being obtained from her owner, she was de- livered back to the Arabs. A few days later the same woman returned to the station, her body covered with wounds and bruises. Thereupon Cap- tain Deane decided to give the woman the option THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN DEANE 79 of remaining in the station as a haven of refuge. The Arabs demanded her release. Captain Deane informed them that his duty was to protect all peo- ple who were in trouble and who sought his pro- tection. Immediately after this incident active hostility commenced. The odds against Captain Deane were literally hundreds to one. In addition to the small- ness of his force, he was dismayed to find that the caps of the bulk of his rifle cartridges were rendered useless by damp. For nearly sixty consecutive hours Captain Deane and Lieutenant Dubois fought alongside their men. The Arabs' numbers were continually increasing and they were approaching from various directions, under cover of earthworks which they threw up in the darkness. Their repeated attacks were as regu- larly repulsed, with heavy losses, and their fury at being thwarted by such an insignificant force passed all bounds. An example of the value of intelligent leadership was forcibly demonstrated. The Arabs' men were undisciplined and wild, whilst the little garrison in the State Station fought calmly and systematically, with highly effective results. On the fourth day the Houssa soldiers laid down their guns in despair. Their sergeant-major said: "Sir, our cartridges are bad; we have shot all the good ones. Can we not escape?" 80 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Captain Deane angrily replied that he would shoot any man who attempted to desert him. "Very well, sir; please shoot us. We must die; there is no hope; and we would rather be shot by an Englishman than have our throats cut and be tortured by the Arabs." When the sun set that day the station was doomed. In the darkness all Captain Deane's followers with the exception of the sergeant-major, two other Houssas, and a faithful savage, fled panic-stricken to the river-side, where they embarked in all the avail- able canoes, paddled away with the swift current, and were soon out of hail. Captain Deane and Dubois finding themselves de- serted, the question arose as to whether they should also attempt to escape, or whether they should stay and give up their lives in the station. Lieutenant Du- bois proposed abiding by the toss of a coin. Twice the result was in favour of their making an attempt to escape; but each time Captain Deane shook his head and decided to stay. The third time the coin fell it was again in favour of departure. This trifling incident decided their fortunes. The defective am- munition was piled in an enormous heap, a fuse was lighted, and so arranged that half an hour would elapse before igniting the inflammable pile, thereby giving them a chance of escape before their depart- ure would be discovered by the ever-watchful Arabs. THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN DEANE 81 In wading across the narrow rocky channel which separated the island upon which the station was sit- uated from the mainland, Lieutenant Dubois slipped and was carried away by the powerful current. Captain Deane plunged after him and succeeded in keeping him afloat until they were swept upon a jagged rock. Both were thoroughly exhausted, and with the words: "I die!" poor Lieutenant Dubois fell back in the water and was seen no more. The next minute, whilst Captain Deane was being dragged ashore by his four faithful Houssas, the Stanley Falls Station was blown to atoms by the ex- plosion of upwards of a ton of cartridges. During the next twenty-nine days Captain Deane and his four followers crawled through the forest, hiding by day from the Arab search-parties, and exposed by night to the prowling leopards and many other dangers. Their food consisted only of wood- worms and fungus and by degrees their bodies be- came so reduced and emaciated that they lacked the strength to travel. During all this time there was no ray of hope of subsequent escape to cheer them. They all felt that they were doomed to die, either by starvation, at the hands of the savages, or from the Arabs' cruel torture. In the meantime, the men who had deserted from Stanley Falls and proceeded down the Congo in canoes, had been waylaid by the natives; and, with 82 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO the exception of one small party, who luckily took their canoe through unfrequented channels, all were killed and eaten by the cannibals. The surviving party reached Bangala and told their sad story. A steam launch was immediately prepared for the journey of five hundred miles up to Stanley Falls, and without loss of time a party proceeded to the relief of Captain Deane. Rather more than a fortnight later this launch steamed within view of the ruins of the Falls Station. A black heap of ashes was all that remained of the station buildings. A deadly volley from an Arab ambuscade warned the occupants of the launch to retire; and reluctantly the helm was put over and the little craft drifted down in midstream. There could be no doubt in the minds of the relief party that all was lost, and that their two white comrades had fallen. Two days later, a native was seen standing upon the rocks by the riverside, beckoning the occupants of the launch to approach. From him they learnt that earlier that same day in the forest, Captain Deane and his four faithfuls were surprised by the savages. Captain Deane, naked and exhausted, lay resting against the trunk of a tree. A savage ap- proached with poised spear. Deane raised his rusty revolver, the only article he had preserved, and pulled the trigger. The cartridge missed fire! THE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN DEANE 83 Before he could repeat the action the savage was standing over him. Captain Deane closed his eyes, expecting the stab from the broad, keen blade; but the savage recognised in him a former friend. The spear was thrown aside and Captain Deane was con- veyed to the native village. It was here that he was found by the relief party. This was the story I gathered from Captain Deane during the night we camped together. Twelve months from that time Captain Deane was back in Africa at Lukolela elephant hunting. Here he met his death. A wounded elephant charged and stabbed him with one of its tusks. By a strange coincidence the grave of Captain Deane at Lukolela is alongside that of Kemble Keys, from which Deane and I had plucked the weeds two years before. Both men were killed by wild animals; both were of the same country; and their graves side by side are in the African jungle, eight hundred miles from the sea. A FOREST DRAMA Alone, in a dark corner of his tent, toying with the beads of his rosary, sat Osmani bin Seyf. His swarthy Arab face was drawn and careworn, and his eyes were downcast in thoughtful mood. During many weeks, with a dogged determination that was surely worthy of a better cause, Osmani had led his caravan of Manyema marauders and captives through the dismal depths of the great African forest in search of human prey. Day by day they had trudged through thorny undergrowth, beneath the impenetra- ble canopy of primeval trees; and each night they had slept hungry and forlorn upon the sodden ground, in the vitiated atmosphere of decaying vegetation. The region they had traversed was uninhabited. That afternoon however a Manyema follower had been wounded by a wooden spear, adroitly concealed in the bushes by the side of a well-worn elephant track. Here at last was an evidence of man. The caravan had halted, formed an effective zereba, and Osmani had despatched scouts to survey the vicinity. "Hodi!" cried a voice from without. 84 A FOREST DRAMA 85 Osmani started from his reverie and instinctively reached towards the loaded rifle by his side. "Kant)!" A grass cloth curtain was drawn aside, revealing the figure of an armed negro. "Ah! Khalifan!" "Salaam Bwana!" The negro crossed his hands upon his breast and bowed. "Khabari gani?" (" Speak, what news?") "Good news," replied the negro, mindful of pre- serving a good omen; "the scouts have returned." "Vema! And what have they found ?" In a few words the negro explained that the scouts had discovered traces of a large native village, situ- ate about two hours' march to the eastward of their encampment. Osmani's face instantly lightened. "It is well," said he. "The sun is now setting. Two hours be- fore the dawn we march upon that village. To- night, no fires, no noise. Sikia ?" "Our master's words are understood." "Haya! May Allah preserve us!" and Osmani waved his hand in token of dismissal. With a profound salaam the negro withdrew. Sentinels were posted, and soon the camp was wrapped in slumber. The night air grew cold. A storm swept over the forest. The rain filtered through the thick 86 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO foliage overhead and trickled in streams upon the naked bodies of the miserable wanderers, caus- ing them to grumble, and to crouch together in groups. It was still dark and cheerless, when Osmani emerged from his tent. "Similla! Similla! Make way there for Bwana Osmani!" Silent and sullen the Manyema marauders arose; they stretched their stiffened limbs, and buckled their ammunition belts tightly around their waists. Each man rolled a strip of dirty white cotton-cloth around his head, turban-wise, to serve as a discriminating mark in the coming fray. The camp, containing numerous native slaves captured in former raids, together with a valuable stock of elephant tusks, was left in charge of fifty well-armed Manyema allies of Osmani. " Tendele ! Tendele, upesi ! " The order to march echoed through the camp, and in a few minutes Osmani and his marauders started forth in single file. No word was spoken. The only sounds that betokened their progress were a slight swishing of leaves and the muffled tread of naked feet upon the spongy ground. The attacking party plodded onwards through the dark forest until they came within sight of the village clearing. A FOREST DRAMA 87 Dawn was just breaking when the first deadly volley was fired, followed an instant afterwards by shouts of "Allah-'llah-la!" as the brutal assailants rushed upon their prey. Women and children, shrieking and crying, fled in all directions, dazed by the sudden onslaught. Fowls flew cackling towards the woods. Men's deep voices shouted incoherently, but above the thrilling uproar of gun-shots, cries, and groans, the fatal " llah-la-ihu " of the Man- yema sounded loud and relentless as they crashed through the bushes into the midst of the multitude of panic-stricken savages, chasing the black figures that darted hither and thither, hurling them to the ground, and binding them with strips of plaited grass cord. The sulphurous smoke from the raiders' guns, combining with the early morning mist, produced a fog, which settled in an almost impenetrable cloud upon the scene; in the obscurity of which the Man- yema guns flashed forth tongues of flame. Osmani had now lost all control over his frenzied mob, and their iron slugs whizzed and whistled through the air in all directions. In endeavouring to penetrate the dark cloud of fog and smoke, the Arab leader suddenly found himself face to face with a burly savage, who bounded tow- ards him, brandishing a huge, sickle-shaped knife. Osmani raised his revolver and fired. The savage 88 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO groaned, and fell heavily to the ground. But Os- mani's aim had not proved fatal, for the savage recovering from the shock endeavoured to rise. The Arab stepped forward. "A curse upon you! Die!" The revolver was levelled at the native's head, Osmani's finger tightened upon the trigger, and as he was about to fire he was startled by a piercing scream. "Hey! Hoyo!" cried a female voice at his elbow, and the next moment a native girl sprang forward and threw herself at his feet. Glancing downward Osmani caught his breath. The naked savage girl's beauty fascinated him. Her mute appeal to spare the wounded native's life was answered, for Os- mani's hand dropped to his side. He paid no heed to the groaning savage. His eyes were riveted upon the graceful form at his feet. A hurried footstep behind him caused him to start and turn. The negro Khalifan ran forward. "Hey, Bwana! Greatly have we feared for our master's safety; we have searched in every place for you." Pointing to the kneeling girl and the wounded savage — whose fate had been so strangely averted — Osmani waved his hand, saying: "Bind them, bind them both! See that the girl escapes not. Bring her to me in my camp at sun- set." A FOREST DRAMA 89 Gradually the firing and tumult ceased. A cool refreshing breeze dispelled the heavy cloud of mist and smoke, revealing the victorious raiders swagger- ing through the devastated village leading and driv- ing scores of miserable captives, who slunk along in awed silence, with bowed heads and shivering limbs. Then, in complete contrast to the former scene, shone the early morning sun in all its radiance. Its bright beams glinted through the distant trees and fell upon the desolated scene, the narrow streets obstructed by the bodies of the slain, and upon the smouldering framework of many a home. Little sunbirds, with resplendent plumage, hovered around the trampled bushes, swarms of flies and bees filled the air with continuous buzzing, and large zephyr- winged butterflies soared and circled above the ruin. By noon the wretched captives were herded to- gether, and Osmani and his heartless minions com- menced the return march to their forest encamp- ment. The captives were driven in single file, and occasionally some of the elated raiders pranced down on either side of the line, executing a wild dance and singing snatches of war-songs, which echoed strangely through the gloomy woods. Guns were occasionally fired, out of pure wantonness, causing the terrified natives to start and tremble. In loud harsh voices the Manyema raiders blus- tered and bragged of their cruel prowess, and cursed 90 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO their ill fortune in permitting so many of the natives to escape them during the attack. The arrival in the encampment was distinguished by triumphant shouts and howls. The marauders were beside themselves with delight, and the inter- val between their arrival and the setting of the sun was occupied by drinking and feasting. After securing their captives by means of grummets and forked sticks, the successful raiders gathered together in groups around blazing log fires. Huge gourds and earthenware jars of fermented palm- juice, which constituted a particularly well-favoured portion of the spoils, were produced, and by degrees Osmani's followers relapsed into a state of maudlin drunkenness. Just as darkness settled upon the forest, Khalifan the negro approached Osmani's tent, leading his female captive by the wrist. "Bwana! In obedience to your words I have brought this heathen girl." "Ha! This is the girl who stayed my hand when I would have shot. Question her, O Khali- fan!" The negro turned to her. The girl's eyes were downcast, but in answer to Khalifan's queries she mumbled a brief reply. "It is Allah's mercy to let this heathen say that she begged her father's life." A FOREST DRAMA 91 "Oh, her father was it? A powerful man, Khali- fan, who nearly killed thy master." "Allah be praised for our master's preservation," muttered the negro fervently. "Inquire her name." After a few words with the girl, Khalifan replied: "Master! May it please you, her name is Tinola." "It is well. Tell her that she enters my harem." Khalifan explained his master's words. Tinola cast one hopeless glance around her, then in despair she threw herself upon the ground and cried piteously. "A curse upon her cries! Make her cease!" roared Osmani, angrily. Khalifan's endeavours to pacify the savage maiden were futile. Springing to her feet, Tinola struggled wildly with the giant negro. Her cries and screams at length attracted the attention of several of Os- mani's followers to his tent, but still the girl fought and struggled for freedom. Osmani's brow lowered, and turning to one of his satellites he said gruffly: "Go, bring her father!" In a few moments Tinola's father, bruised, bat- tered and blood-stained, was dragged forward from the crowd of captives. Straightening himself, and folding his arms, the savage chieftain cast a defiant look upon his per- secutors. But when his glance fell upon his daugh- ter Tinola, he swayed from side to side and ground 92 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO his teeth. There was a dignity of mien about the wounded savage that attracted even the admiration of his heartless captors, for among them physical courage was esteemed the highest virtue. In response to Osmani's brief command two of the Manyema raiders shouldered and aimed their guns at the chieftain's breast. The savage remained unmoved ; he merely shrugged his shoulders and glanced scornfully at the guns. Tinola's eyes distended with terror. " Khalifan, tell this girl to look well upon her father! She chooses life or death for him. Another sound or struggle and that frowning savage yonder will be shot. Does she consent to behave with peace?" After the negro had interpreted Osmani's speech the unhappy girl stifled a sob, then turned and cast a flashing glance upon the Arab chief, and bowed her head in sullen submission. "Ha! The savage is tamed? Lead her to my tent, and take that ugly M'shenzi away." Then turning to the bystanders Osmani added, " Bassi. You can go." As the night hours passed the scenes in the Arab's camp grew wilder. The victorious raiders gave themselves up to a drinking bout. The more sober of the party danced and sang until their bodies were bathed in perspiration, and they fell to the ground exhausted. A FOREST DRAMA 93 About midnight some of the revellers were startled by a stifled groan, which seemed to emanate from the direction of Osmani's tent, but, reassured by the subsequent silence, they said laughingly: "Ha! Our master's pagan shows her teeth again." Merrily the dance and song continued, the deep bass voices of the singers blending with the incessant booming of the drums, filling the still night air with reverberations. Muddled with potent palm-juice, careless and stu- pefied, the drunken raiders were too absorbed in their carousal to notice Tinola's lithe figure glide from be- neath the canvas of Osmani's tent and disappear in the shadows. The night grew far advanced and the singing and the dancing ceased. The log fires burned low, cast- ing a lurid glow upon the forms of the raiders, who, overcome with drink, now lay sleeping in all manner of grotesque attitudes. Deep black shadows enveloped the crowd of native captives, who were huddled together in the centre of the zereba. But they slept not. The darkness increased. It was the hour before dawn. The wind rustled through the tree-tops in the forest, the heavy breathing of the sleepers became more sonorous and regular, and the frogs in the adjacent swamps croaked dismally at intervals. Oc- casionally one of the wood fires burst into fitful 94 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO flame, revealing the squatting form of a dozing sentinel. Then a shower of sparks would arise from another fire, where a half-burnt log had rolled aside. A watchful sentinel glancing towards the forest would have seen the glittering of keen eyes. But the palm-juice had proved too potent. The Arab's sentries slept. Dark figures led by the native girl Tinola climbed noiselessly over the stockade and swarmed like ants into a shady corner of the camp. If one of the sen- tries had but raised his head he would have seen the gleam of murderous knives and spears. There was a silent movement among the captives. One by one they arose, freed from their bonds. They crouched like leopards, ready to spring upon their prey. A shout, a rush of footsteps, and the Arab camp was doomed. Dazed and surprised in their drunken slumbers, the Manyema staggered and fell before the revenge- ful natives. Deft and alert the natives swarmed upon them, hacking and hewing with their keen- edged weapons; until, panic-stricken, the surviving Manyema rushed towards Osmani's tent. There they found Khalifan with a flaming fire-brand. Holding the canvas aside, the negro entered. The light of his torch fell upon the lifeless body of their chief. A sketch at Yambinga Drawn by the Author A FOREST DRAMA 95 Osmani bin Seyf had been stabbed in the heart with his own dagger. This discovery completed the disorder of the Manyema marauders, not one of whom lived to see the approaching dawn. SULIMAN THE SLAVER Karib Bwana. Enter my house; and, n'shallah, I will tell you iny story." The speaker was my host, Faradji Ibn Suliman, one of the most notorious slave-raiders in Central Africa. I was among the Arab slave-hunters in the Great African forest at that time, travelling towards Tippo Tib's camp, and being familiar with the Kjs- wahili language spoken by the Arabs, I took a deep interest in obtaining personal information from them concerning their adventures. From the first moment when I made the acquaint- ance of Suliman, I was impressed by his air of re- finement. He was tall and distinguished-looking, and his face bore no indication whatever of his call- ing. He was gracious in his manner, and his whole personality suggested the courteous dignity of a by- gone age. I noticed that he was generally alone, and that he spoke but little. There was a tinge of sadness about him, and he seemed out of his element hunting men in the African forest. He attracted me and I determined to try and break down his barrier of 96 SULIMAN THE SLAVER 97 reserve. I succeeded admirably, and we reached a degree of companionship. Thus it was that Su- liman bade me enter the sacred precincts of his tembe and promised to relate to me something of the story of his life. It was evening. Outside, the camp-followers had already stretched themselves before their log fires to sleep. We entered a large room lit by two oil lamps of ancient pattern. Upon a raised dais at one end of the room lay numerous mats and bol- sters of gaudy colours. Silver-sheathed daggers and highly ornamented pistols hung upon the walls, and a faint and pleasant odour pervaded the air. In a corner of the chamber lay a number of enor- mous tusks of ivory piled into a heap, the proceeds of recent raids upon a neighbouring tribe of forest dwellers. We seated ourselves, cross-legged, upon a large mat. A tall negro entered, bearing a slender-necked metal coffee-pot, from which he poured delicious coffee into two small cups. After a few moments when the negro had retired, Suliman commenced his narrative. "Our custom is to begin a story at the beginning! "I was born in Zanzibar. My father's name was Suliman; he was a pure-blooded Arab from Muscat in the Persian Gulf. My mother was a black slave woman whom he had captured near 98 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Ujiji. When I was about seven years old, I remem- ber that my father went on a pilgrimage to Mecca and he was away for a long time. When he returned, he wore a blue robe, and was called 'Hadji/ out of respect for his religious devotion in visiting the burial- place of God's only prophet the great Mohammed. My father then became a priest and accompanied Hamad Ibn Mohamad, who is now known as 'Tippo Tib,' the chief of the Arabs, upon a long journey into the interior of this great country you call Africa, in quest of ivory and slaves. " Tippo Tib and his followers were great warriors, and they fought with all the different savage tribes who inhabited the countries through which they passed. My father however was not a fighting man ; he was their head priest, by virtue of his pilgrimage to Mecca, and it was his duty to advise Tippo Tib as to which month was best in which to make his warlike attacks upon the natives — for you know some of us Mohammedans believe that certain months are more auspicious for fighting than others. During my father's absence in Africa I remained with my mother in Zanzibar, and was taught by an itinerant schoolmaster to read and write Arabic. "I was about sixteen years old when my father returned with Tippo Tib to Zanzibar. He came back rich, for the journey, occupying about six years, had been a most profitable one. My father invested SULIMAN THE SLAVER 99 his share of the profits which were derived from the slaves and ivory they had secured, in land. He purchased a large plantation, and lived a comfort- able life overlooking his slaves who worked in his gardens of cinnamon and cloves. One day, about a year after my father's return, by the side of a stream which marked the boundary of my father's plantation, I caught sight of a beautiful girl. Her dark soft eyes were like the eyes of a dove, and she walked with the grace of a young gazelle. I followed her at a distance and later on discovered that she was the daughter of an old Indian money- lender, who lived on his cocoa-nut plantation, which adjoined the property of my father. I watched and waited day after day, and was at length rewarded by meeting the girl again. We talked together, and as days passed our clandestine meetings continued, and we fell in love with each other. "From her father, the rich old Indian, I knew full well I had but little hope of gaining consent to our marriage; for notwithstanding my father's pure blood and his riches, I was the child of a negro slave-woman, and my caste was not there- fore of a high enough order to satisfy the Indian's pride. " While meditating upon the best means of securing my bride, I found to my horror that a rich young Arab, the son of one of the Sultan's magistrates, had 100 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO sought her hand, and the mercenary old Indian had agreed already to the marriage. "Thus my chances assumed a doubtful aspect, and I fully realised that if I wished to make the half-caste Indian girl my wife, I must act speedily and energetically. I arranged a meeting-place, and in the meantime, hired a small dhow to convey us to an Arab town on the mainland coast, far away from Zanzibar, where I intended to live with my beautiful bride, in strict seclusion. Armed with a pistol and dagger, and accompanied by a slave, I proceeded one evening to our usual trysting-place, to meet my intended bride, and to lead her to the sea-shore, where my dhow was in readiness to convey us to our destination. "It was late in the evening, dark, and all was per- fectly silent save for the faint sounds in the distance of slaves singing after their day's work. Presently the leaves rustled, and the girl of my heart stood before me, frightened and trembling. " 'Let us hasten, mine! I fear I am followed. My father suspects. Let us go away at once.' "AJthough startled by her words and her evident state of alarm I could not resist the temptation of clasping her for one moment in my arms. As I held her trembling form, breathing soft words of love into her ear, I was startled by the blinding flash of a pistol-shot. Then after a moment's bewilderment SULIMAN THE SLAVER 101 I found that I held only the corpse of the girl I loved! Her Arab lover had followed her to our meeting-place, and blinded with jealous rage, he had shot my loved one in my arms. Almost beside myself, I seized my dagger, sprang upon the young Arab, and stabbed him to the heart. The sound of his pistol-shot raised an alarm. I heard sounds of approaching men. Picking up the lifeless body of the girl I ran quickly towards the dhow and em- barked. "We sailed away from Zanzibar in the fresh evening breeze, and my grief was so great that I felt like a man without sense. At sunrise I directed the helmsman to steer for the shore. I landed in the breakers, with the cold lifeless figure of my loved one; and I buried her in a grave dug with my own hands. Tenderly I filled in the grave, all the time with a sobbing voice singing our burial song. I would have remained beside the grave, had not the crew of the dhow forced me on board again. The intensity of my love and sorrow had been so keen, that I was seized by an attack of fever which nearly killed me, but my faithful slave nursed me until I was strong again. "Having killed the son of so influential a man as the magistrate of the Sultan of Zanzibar, it was im- possible for me to return without running the risk of being beheaded, and so I waited until Tippo Tib 102 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO started upon another long journey into the interior, and after some trouble and delay I succeeded in joining him on the caravan path about one month's journey from Zanzibar. On account of my father's prestige and reputation, the great Arab leader made me one of his henchmen, and I was placed in com- mand of a large detachment of his wild Manyema warriors. "Very soon after I had joined Tippo Tib we were engaged in a severe fight with a powerful warlike tribe, called the Masai, and for many days a deadly conflict raged. But notwithstanding the excitement of this new life, with its daily dangers and scenes of bloodshed, I still suffered keenly from sorrow, and the form of the Indian girl was before my eyes day and night, in times of peace, and in the wildest scenes of warfare. "At last after many moons' journey, we reached Tippo Tib's headquarters at Kizingiti, and as I still suffered from depression of spirits, I asked to be sent to a far-off country where alone I might in time recover from my grief. He agreed at once and a few days later I was provided with four hundred armed men, and instructed to proceed through the Great Forest in a straight line towards the setting sun, and to obtain as many slaves and tusks of ivory as I could in twenty-five months. I started, and day by day we had to fight our way amidst swarms SULIMAN THE SLAVER 103 of ' Washenzi,' who filled the forests with their shouts and war-cries. "One day, we were suddenly surprised by a warn- ing shout from one of the party of men leading the way. Upon arriving on the scene I found sev- eral men with bleeding feet. Alongside of the nar- row elephant paths which intersected the forest in all directions, we discovered that pointed sticks of hard wood had been so placed as to wound the feet of strangers. " 'It is the work of the Watwa, the dwarfs,' said several of my men. 'We are in their country now. It will be well to get our guns ready.' "Almost as soon as the words were uttered, there was a sound like falling rain, and a flight of small sharp-pointed wooden arrows fell among us. The next instant a volley was fired in all directions. When the sounds of the guns died away the air was filled with cries and groans. Rushing forward through the thick undergrowth, after taking the precaution to reload our rifles, we found several queer-looking little men apparently dead, and others lying wounded on the ground. "At first, wounded as they were, the fiendish-look- ing imps endeavoured to shoot more poisoned arrows from their short bows, but finding that they were only laughed at, they dropped their weapons in fear and wonderment. 104 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO "Four of them had been shot dead, but the others, with a few exceptions, were slightly wounded; in most cases excessive fright at the sounds of the gun- shots appeared to have been the cause of their re- maining upon the ground, rather than the severity of their wounds. When the wounded dwarfs realised that we were disposed to be friendly, they grinned and motioned with their hands to a particular di- rection, evidently intending to indicate that it was there their villages were situated. "Picking them up, my Manyema soldiers, who appeared giants by contrast, carried the wounded creatures along in their arms, followed by the remainder of the caravan, and marched in the direction indicated by the wounded dwarfs. " We had not travelled far before we caught sight of smoke arising among the trees, and a few minutes later we found ourselves in the midst of a weird- looking deserted encampment. "The wounded dwarfs were placed together be- neath a large tree, and grinning again as they point- ed to the deserted huts, they uttered a succession of peculiar calls, resembling the notes of birds. Their calls were answered in the same manner from the forest, and by degrees the village was literally filled by crowds of most uncouth little people. "The village of the dwarfs was composed of ir- regular lines of grass huts built in the shape of bee- SULIMAN THE SLAVER 105 hives, with small square apertures near the roof, which served as doors. The forest had been cleared all round the village, the larger trees having been cut at the height of twenty or thirty feet from the ground. "The tall white, dead trunks, around which enor- mous limbs and logs were lying in wild confusion, rendered the approach to the village from the forest extremely difficult; and this stratagem was thereby utilised by the cunning dwarfs as an effective pro- tection against the danger of sudden attack. The huts themselves were most primitive and crude in structure, there were no signs of pottery or other domestic utensils, and the whole aspect of the village suggested a temporary camping-place. "The only covering worn by the dwarfs was a bunch of leaves suspended from a string tied round their waists. Several holes were pierced in the outer auricle of their ears, in which were fastened a num- ber of small iron rings that jingled as they moved their heads. "After considerable inquiry I at last found one of my native slaves understood a few words of the language spoken by the pigmies ; but his knowledge of their tongue was so slight that it seemed impos- sible to obtain satisfactory answers to any of my questions. At length however an abnormally stout dwarf, who appeared to be a chieftain, stepped for- 106 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO ward, and to the surprise of the slave spoke to him in his own language. But even under these more favourable circumstances it was yet a diffi- cult task to carry on any intelligible conversation, for the words of the dwarf had to be interpreted twice. We learnt however from the pigmy chief that the principal village of the tribe was situated a few miles further on, and that in their chief town were large stores of ivory. In the words of the chief 'there were more tusks than any man could count in four days.' "Once more the caravan dived into the gloomy forest, and as we marched along, led by the un- canny-looking little chief, we were accompanied by an ever-increasing crowd of noisy chattering little fellows, who skipped and jumped about among the trees like monkeys. "By the time we reached the high wooden pali- sade which was built entirely around this mysterious town, darkness was coming on and I was anxious to camp for the night outside the formidable-looking stockade; but against my will I at last gave way to the wishes of my people, who looked forward to a good supper and a merry night with the little sav- ages, and entered the enclosure. " We entered the village by a very narrow gateway, over which was suspended a perpendicular log. Owing to the small size of the entrance, my follow- SULIMAN THE SLAVER 107 ers were obliged to squeeze themselves through in single file. When we reached the enclosure we gazed in wonder upon the scene. Before us, as far as we could see in the gloomy light of the fast ap- proaching evening, was gathered a crowd consisting of many hundreds of dwarfs, all yelling and shouting with excitement. Dotted all over the extensive en- closure were a number of little round huts. Log fires were burning in front of most of the huts, emitting a faint and sickly odour. "The scene was indescribably weird and confus- ing and before we had quite recovered from our be- wilderment at being in the midst of so many quaint little people, we were conducted to a corner of the village, where we were invited to camp for the night. Dazed though I was, I yet noticed piles of large elephant tusks outside several of the huts. "By the time my people had deposited their load of utensils, ammunition and elephant tusks in a heap, it was quite dark, the only light being from the flickering wood fires. Crowding densely round us, as we prepared to make ourselves comfortable for the night, stood the curious peering dwarfs, shout- ing, quarrelling, and elbowing one another in order to obtain a view of our proceedings. "When all was arranged in order the little savage chief who had conducted us to this village suddenly appeared, followed by about fifty of his followers, 108 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO all bearing large gourds of fermented palm-juice. This inebriating drink was presented, together with a quantity of dried antelope meat, by the pigmy chief with a quaint dignity, and in a short time a condition of good-humour existed between us. "Towards midnight the dwarfs gradually retired to their own huts, and in about half an hour the entire village was quiet and apparently peaceful. Overcome by the fumes of the palm wine, which was an unaccustomed luxury, my followers, both native slaves and Manyema soldiers, fell into a deep slumber. The fires burnt low, and even I, generally so watchful, did not detect any sound of footsteps. Once, however, we were partially awak- ened by a creaking sound which appeared to come from the direction of the narrow gateway, but after listening for a few moments and hearing nothing alarming, we settled down again to sleep. "Ma-ma!' suddenly shouted one of my Manye- mas. This cry, followed by a hideous piercing shriek, suddenly aroused us. We sprang to our feet and seized our guns. "The night was very dark, all the village fires having been extinguished. Dazed and bewildered, we stood for a moment seemingly ignorant of where we were. "With fiendish yells, that for an instant chilled our blood, we were charged by hundreds of blood- SULIMAN THE SLAVER 109 thirsty pigmy savages, who rushed frantically upon us with keen-edged knives and spears. My fol- lowers fired wildly at first, but realising their des- perate position — for we were virtually prisoners in the pigmy camp — they became steadier, and every man struggled manfully against the ferocious attacks of our devilish enemies who fought until they dropped, riddled with our iron slugs and bullets. "For upwards of three hours the fight continued with unabated fury. The dense darkness was lit up by the flashing of our guns, as they poured forth bullet after bullet into the frantic crowd. The cries of each fresh attacking party mingled with, and sometimes drowned, the hideous groans and shrieks of the wounded. "Gradually there dawned the cold gray light of approaching day, and as the darkness disappeared, the dwarfs retired out of the village enclosure into the forest, leaving behind them a heap of wounded and slain lying in a semicircle around the corner of the palisade where my followers had fought with the desperation of despair. Just as it grew light enough to distinguish our ghastly surroundings, there arose from the forest one shrill cry uttered simultaneously by hundreds of hoarse throats, and the next oninute the undaunted dwarfs came swarm- ing over the tall palisade on every side, like ants crawling in myriads over a log. 110 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO "Volley after volley was fired, and the howling pigmies fell in all directions. Spears and arrows fell in showers among my poor slaves and Manye- mas. Still on the dwarfs came in their hundreds, until with one loud cry of despair my Manyema soldiers and the panic-stricken slaves turned, and with a mighty rush beat down the palisade and fled in wild confusion to the shelter of the forest. In an instant the dwarfs were upon us, and many of my slaves were smitten by keen-bladed spears and poisoned arrows. "Very soon after we had quitted the stockaded village the dwarfs relinquished their attacks in order to secure our loads of ammunition and ivory which we had been forced to abandon. Taking advantage of this momentary respite, I succeeded in gathering my men together on the top of a small wooded hill. Here we made our last stand. "It was not long before the dwarfs continued their attacks, but from our elevation my Manyemas were able to drive them back with better success than when in the village, where they had been hemmed in by the palisade. Instead of the dwarfs showing signs of giving in after the death of so many of their number, they only became more war- like and their numbers were augmented from time to time by a fresh supply of little warriors from the forest. SULIMAN THE SLAVER 111 "During the whole day my Manyema soldiers fought bravely, but when the sun set they com- menced to grow uneasy, for their ammunition was nearly finished. It was just dark when the pig- mies made their strongest and final attack upon the hill. "My Manyemas wavered, turned, and fled. They rushed helter-skelter into the forest, followed by their fiendish little enemies. "After a moment's hesitation, I and three of my chiefs, who had remained beside me throughout, took advantage of the moment when the dwarfs were rushing after my retreating Manyemas, and fled into the forest in an opposite direction. "I cannot now tell you of the sufferings my com- panions and I endured after our escape. We were lost in the forest. We had no food. We crawled each day through the woods towards the east. We slept in the branches of the trees to escape from the leopards. We lived on roots. I reached the great river at last and found an Arab camp. Of all my expedition, which numbered about five hundred men, three of us were the only survivors. But this all happened many years ago, when I was young. Since then I've been successful. I now own as many slaves as the great Tippo Tib himself. Yet in my present prosperity, even after so many years of ad- venturous life, I can never forget my grief. In the 112 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO stillness of the night, here in the Great Forest, I dream of my youth. "Yes, it is late. Good night!" I arose and left my Arab host telling the beads of his rosary. THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY There was an unusual commotion in the populous village of Yabuli, situated on the banks of the Aru- wimi River, which flows into the Congo about fifteen hundred miles from the Atlantic coast. As a rule the villages in these districts were always in a more or less disturbed condition owing to the wild, un- restrained savagery of the inhabitants ; but upon this particular occasion the angry voices of the men and the plaintive wailing of the women betokened a do- mestic affliction which appealed to young and old alike. Their plantations had been destroyed during the night by a herd of elephants. Such a heavy rain had fallen, that even the old women, whose vigilance is proverbial, had neglected their watchful duties, and all with one accord had thought of nothing else but gaining shelter in their grass-roofed huts from the inclement weather. As is so frequently the case in these tropical lati- tudes the night's rain was followed by a radiant sun- rise and there was not a semblance of a cloud in the clear blue sky. 113 114 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Nature seemed all smiling and bright, and the foliage was refreshed after the rain, numbers of brilliantly plumed little sunbirds flew from the dark dripping forests to the trees in the open village streets, where they flitted from bough to bough and plumed themselves, and beautiful butterflies soared silently and gracefully over the village in the early morning sunshine. The village scene presented a striking contrast to the beauties of nature around it, for the huts were sodden and bowed down by the weight of the wet grass roofs. There were large puddles of dirty water in the paths, littered here and there with palm-fronds, sticks, and grass-stalks, which had been blown, dur- ing the storm, from the dilapidated huts. In the midst of an angry throng of naked savages, who were all talking at once in excited tones, sat one of the village headmen. He was a powerfully built man, and his countenance bore the impress of every form of brutal indulgence, and indicated plainly an unrestrained and evil disposition. His arms and legs were ornamented with highly polished iron and copper rings; around his neck he wore a string of human teeth. His name was Ioko, and his position as headman had been gained by his individual prowess and by his domineering character. He sat upon a small carved stool, listening for some time to the uproar, until losing patience he THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 115 arose and with a wave of his arm commanded com- parative silence. "You men of Yabuli! Listen! Last night in the darkness the elephants robbed us of our food. Two moons ago we were treated in the same way by hippopotami who not only trampled our cassava and sugar-cane, but ate the roots. This is an un- happy time for us, for not only are our gardens ruined, but our goats and fowls, our only live stock, are always being stolen by leopards. Men of Ya- buli, the evil spirit is at work against us." For several minutes a general hubbub followed, until interrupted by a shrill female voice from a group of huts, some distance off. "I know why the elephants came to us last night. You remember that old monster elephant with big ears and only one tusk, the one we all call Litoi Linene — it was he that led the others to the planta- tion, for the evil spirit is in his heart, and it has been there ever since Ioko tried to spear him in the for- est. We shall never enjoy quietness until Litoi Linene is killed." Several voices shouted in favour of this last speech, and after about an hour's excited talk it was agreed that several traps should be arranged forthwith, in order if possible to put an end to the evil-spirited elephant Litoi Linene, who was credited with having worked so much ill to the tribe. 116 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Soon after this village conclave most of the men started off in different directions far into the forest, which surrounded the village, to set snares with keen-bladed spears which they firmly fastened in heavy spars of wood and deftly suspended from branches overhead by an ingenious arrangement of small creepers, so that when an unsuspecting ele- phant wandered beneath and unwittingly broke the light creepers which held the trap in its place, the weighted spear would fall and inflict a wound in the back or shoulder, a wound that often proved fatal. All the main portion of the tribe were busy at this task until the sun went down, arranging the ele- phant snares in all the most likely places in the forest. The women were also absent, endeavour- ing to repair their damaged plantations. The village was deserted until sunset, when all returned to eat their evening meal of boiled cassava and plantains, after which they soon settled down to sleep. The night was very dark, and there was every evidence of the near approach of another storm of wind and rain equal to that of the previous night. The only persons who were not comfortably sleep- ing in their grass huts were two or three women who were sitting with crying babies in their arms outside their doors in front of the log-fires upon which their supper had been cooked. Soon even THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 117 they retired for the night and gusts of wind blew sparks from the fires that were burning low. Sometimes a gaunt and bony pariah dog sneaked from one fire to another in a vain search for food, but before very long they were overcome with sleep and curled themselves up in the hot ashes of the fires. In the depths of the forest the only sounds were the hoarse croakings of frogs and the occasional flutter- ings of horn-bills and other large birds roosting in the tree-tops. As the night advanced and the darkness became more dense the air grew hot and heavy, and fierce gusts of wind whistled through the branches overhead, snapping off dead twigs. Far away in the forest there stood the huge form of an old bull elephant, one of whose tusks had been damaged in his youth and had become totally de- cayed. His head was bent forward in order to rest his one monster tusk upon the ground; his trunk loosely coiled between his fore-legs was also resting on the ground, and his great ragged ears were flap- ping spasmodically in vain endeavours to shake off the myriads of mosquitoes that persistently hovered around his head. Suddenly the forest was lit up by a most vivid flash of lightning followed an instant afterward by a crashing peal of thunder. The elephant raised his head with a startled jerk, his huge limbs shaking with fear. 118 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Almost before the rumbling echoes of the thunder had died away the rain that had been threaten- ing for so many hours fell in torrents. Flashes of lightning succeeded each other so rapidly that the attendant peals of thunder were converted into one continuous roar, and the violence of the wind soon increased to a veritable tornado — a tropical hurri- cane. Trees were blown down and uprooted on all sides of the terrified elephant, who remained some time motionless from fear, but as the tempest continued the monster became suddenly panic-stricken and charged madly through the dense forest, stumbling and falling over the trunks of uprooted trees in his endeavours to gain some open patch where there would be no danger of being crushed by the falling timber. The lurid flashes of lightning revealed the fright- ened animal with coiled trunk and head bent low, blindly smashing a way through dense woods. Suddenly, in the midst of a mad rush, the ele- phant fell to the ground with a sharp squeal of pain. The poor brute had severed the vines that sup- ported one of the traps that had been arranged the previous day, and a heavily-weighted spear plunged between his shoulders. For some moments the wounded animal remained motionless ; then the great body rolled slowly from side to side in vain en- <5 - > I -c: THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 119 deavour to free himself from the spear, but the weapon was barbed and the points had penetrated too deeply to be shaken off. After many efforts the animal at last got on his legs again and staggered a short distance through the forest until, growing rapidly weaker from loss of blood, he stopped to rest and leaned the weight of his body against a tree, breathing heavily in ag- ony. Here he remained, exhausted, until daybreak, his hide covered with patches of mud and deep red smears of blood. Gradually the rain ceased and the wind died away. With the first glimpse of dawn in the village there was creaking from the small square cane doors of the huts; as they were removed one by one, dark, manly figures, with long spears in their hands, stepped forth and stretched themselves after their night's heavy sleep. Hastily arranging their scanty loin-cloths of beaten bark, the men started into the dark woods, in dif- ferent directions, to examine their traps. The party entered the forest in single file but soon divided into small companies. Ioko took an entirely different route from the others, and when about two miles from the village he halted sud- denly, snapped his fingers, and placed his hand over his open mouth, saying to himself in a low tone : "Look at this elephant track! What a path is here!" He followed the trail for some time, until 120 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO within view of the trap he had set the previous day, when his excitement became intense, for he found the spear was gone, and the grass and leaves be- neath the snare were covered with blood. He fol- lowed the blood-stained tracks until he approached a great ant-hill, near which he stopped a moment to extract a thorn from his foot. He was startled by a deep groan, and cautiously stepping forward, he saw his prey leaning its unwieldy form against the mound. "Lo-o-o! It is the evil one, Litoi Linene!" (Big Ears), gasped Ioko to himself excitedly. Carefully watching the animal, to decide in his own mind upon the best mode of spearing him in a vital part, he firmly gripped his heavy spear, the haft of which was fully eight feet long, and stepped softly forward until within reach of the left shoulder of the unconscious animal. With steady nerve he poised his weapon; then with a mighty plunge he drove the keen-bladed spear deep into the elephant's heart, and sprang away among the trees. With a shrill trumpeting cry of pain Litoi Linene staggered to his feet, swayed forward, quivered, and fell to the ground lifeless. Ioko, after waiting a few moments to satisfy him- self that the animal was dead, raised a cry that echoed through the woods, and which soon brought several of his companions to the spot. Without THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 121 any further sign of excitement he quietly busied himself in cutting his barbed spear from the car- case. He then examined the one large tusk and the decayed stump of its fellow, remarking to his com- panions who were now arriving: "Now the evil spirit is dead; Litoi Linene will lead no more devilish elephants to our plantations." In a very short time the scene became indescrib- able. Excited men with sharp knives commenced cutting lumps of meat from the still warm carcase and throwing them to the eager women and chil- dren, who crowded around with baskets, quarrelling like wild animals over the possession of each piece of flesh that was thrown among them. The sav- ages' hearts were filled with joy at the prospect of a huge feast. That night, under cover of the darkness, Ioko, all alone, buried the one heavy tusk of Litoi Linene in a swamp far from the village, so that only he him- self knew of the place of concealment. He hid the tusk according to the tribal custom, for in the Aruwimi districts the people of neighbouring villages are seldom good friends, and they all have a habit of attacking each other at odd times in order to capture men, women and children for cannibal pur- poses. As tusks of ivory have an acknowledged value, equal to that of a human being, it is custom- ary for the members of each village to conceal in the 122 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO forests as many tusks as they can obtain, so that they may be in a position to redeem, if permitted, any of their companions who may be unfortunate enough to fall into the hands of their hostile neigh- bours. For five years the tusk lay hidden beneath the foul mud and long grass in the dismal swamp. No human foot ever ventured into the treacherous quagmire, and only at rare intervals small parties of natives, darting among the forest trees in search of wild honey, or in an exciting chase of bushbuck, broke the silence. In the oppressive heat at midday a solitary buf- falo, in search of a cool bath, would sometimes flounder in the mud; or a small herd of elephants, strolling idly through the forest in single file, led by the father of the party, an irritable old bull ele- phant, would occasionally wade clumsily through the deepest part, splashing the black mud over each other and flapping their great ears to drive away the swarms of flies that hovered around their heads. A dense, white, miasmatic fog enveloped the swamp every evening after sunset, and hung over the tall reeds like a silken canopy until long after sunrise. During the five years that the tusk lay hidden in the swamp, but little change had taken place in IT Native fighting knife and sheath, Manyema In the collection of the Author THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 123 the village of Yabuli. The direction of the paths had been somewhat altered, as many of the huts had been rebuilt; for being composed of light materials such as fine grass and leaves, with the lighter frame- work of cornstalks, they soon became rotten, and it is necessary to repair them after every rainy sea- son and to rebuild the huts every few years. It happened one day that the occupants of a fish- ing canoe returned to Yabuli in a great state of ex- citement. They had been down the river fishing near the village of Basoko, which is situated at the confluence of the Aruwimi and the Congo, and they had heard wonderful accounts of a fight that had taken place a few days before, between the fierce men of Basoko and a party of strangers who were drifting down the Congo River in war-canoes. The story of this remarkable adventure had been greatly embellished, according to African custom, by the friendly Basoko who related it to the Yabuli fisher- men, and they in their turn quite naturally rendered the recital still more grotesque, when they repeated it to the crowd of eager listeners who thronged the river bank, attracted by the fishermen's cries: "Uku uku-u, uku-uku-u, u-u!" (Come! come! come !) "The chief of the strangers was covered with cloth, and his face was white, and it shone like sun- light on the river," said they. 124 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO "Ekh! what strange things," the crowd exclaimed. "The stranger chief had only one eye." "Lo-o-o!" "It was in the middle of his forehead." "A-yah! a-yah!" roared the crowd, clapping their hands. "When the Basoko went out on the river in their war -canoes to fight and capture the strangers, they cried, 'Meat! meat!' for they in- tended eating their bodies, but they were not to be captured, and they killed many of the Basoko with sticks, which sent forth thunder and lightning. They spoke words in a strange tongue. They wore red cloth, and blue cloth, and their heads were covered with white cloth. They have drifted on down the river and passed the strong Basoko with jeers." At the end of each of the fishermen's sentences the crowd uttered exclamations of wonder. The old women, always superstitious, raised their voices and said that the evil spirit was at the bottom of it all, and that a day of trouble was coming to all the country. Whole days were spent in excited talk about the strangers, for never in their recollection had they heard of such people before. Now this man, this chief of the strangers, whose white face they said shone like "sunlight on the river," was none other than Stanley, with his gal- lant little band of Zanzibar men. At the time of his passing Basoko, he had spent upward of two years THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 125 travelling in Central Africa, engaged in solving the great geographical problems which had hitherto puzzled the world, and to which the brave-hearted Livingstone had devoted so many years of his val- uable life, dying in harness when upon the thresh- old of success. At this time there was established at Nyangwe, the advance post of the Arab slave-raiders from the East Coast, under the leadership of the famous Tippo Tib, who soon after Stanley's departure down the Congo, persuaded his companions to set out on the same journey. They recruited a large number of fighting men from different parts of the Manyema country, and fought their way down the river as far as the Kizingiti cataract, where Tippo Tib established himself as chief of the Arabs. Large bands of these Manyema were despatched from Stanley Falls in different directions, after the fashion of blood-hounds, to obtain tusks of ivory from the natives by whatever means they chose. As a rule each of these parties was divided into sections, different Arabs contributing ten or twenty armed men, each with one man of higher caste elected as leader. Tippo Tib usually contributed the largest number of men and appointed the leader himself. After an absence of many months, when one of the companies returned to headquarters with slaves and ivory, the booty was divided among the 126 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Arabs according to the number of men contributed by each. The ivory was sent up-river to Nyangwe in canoes, and thence it was carried overland to the East Coast by large slave caravans, the journey occupying between six months and a year. During all these eventful days in the history of Central Africa, Litoi Linene's tusk lay unheeded in the swamp. With the new generation, all recollection of the elephant Litoi Linene had died away, and his massive bones had long since disappeared in the high grass and brushwood that had rapidly grown up from the soil that his carcase had enriched. Even the existence of his tusk, the only substantial relic of his former greatness, had almost been forgotten by every- body except Ioko. While the chief topic of conversation with the large majority of the villagers was still about the strange white man's journey past the dreaded Basoko, yet a few men, including Ioko, often spoke of the evil elephant. Although since its death several elephants had been killed by means of spear-snares and pit- falls cunningly concealed with light brushwood, yet no one had ever obtained such a large tusk of ivory from any of the other elephants as from Litoi Linene, and another reason for attaching such importance to the death of this animal was the belief that Ioko had exterminated the power to effect evil that Litoi Linene had been credited with possessing. Since his death THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 127 their plantations had been comparatively undisturbed by big game, and this fact alone went far to encourage the belief that they had disposed of an evil spirit. Soon after Tippo Tib's occupation of Stanley Falls in 1879, rumours reached Yabuli and the neighbour- ing villages of oppression and persecution by the Manyema. Chiefs met together to inquire of each other the reason of this invasion. Less than three years after Stanley's fight with the Basoko at the mouth of the Aruwimi, the Manyema mercenaries of the Arabs attacked and destroyed several villages higher up the same river, having travelled overland from the Congo through the forests and descended the Aruwimi River in canoes. They laid waste all the villages by the way, capturing men and women and imposing fines of ivory for their redemption upon those of the natives who were fortunate enough to escape to the woods. Although every precaution was taken by the people of Yabuli to guard against surprise, they instinctively felt impending evil and a gloom settled over the village affecting old and young alike. They all appeared to realise their iso- lated position, escape being impossible as their neigh- bours were at enmity with them and with each other, and the poor wretches lived in a condition of fear bordering upon panic. At last the evil day arrived. Early one morning, just before daybreak, they were suddenly startled by 128 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO the loud reports of the Manyema guns. The forest around the village appeared alive with armed men, who rushed among their dwellings from all sides, firing recklessly, sometimes in the air, into the doors of the huts, and at the panic-stricken savages, who rushed toward the woods for shelter. A few of the braver natives stood their ground, and hurled spears and knives at their opponents, but one by one they dropped, shot by their brutal enemies. After firing their muzzle-loading muskets, many of the Manyema rushed upon the natives and clubbed them with the butt-ends. The women encumbered with their chil- dren, whom they were bravely trying to carry off to the shelter of the woods, were soon overtaken by the Manyema, who roughly threw them to the ground and bound their arms and legs. Nearly two-thirds of the women and children were captured, including the favourite wife of Ioko ; but many of the men and a few women reached the woods. Ioko, although wounded by a slug of copper from a Manyema mus- ket, had also escaped. During the day the fugitives in the forest gradually congregated together, and by nightfall they had formed a few rough huts with light brushwood and broad leaves, which, when fastened together in rows by the stalks, each row overlapping the other, formed a sufficient shelter from the rain. This primitive encampment in the forest was a considerable distance THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 129 from their former village, now completely in the possession of the Manyema. The leader of the Arab buccaneers, Muini Kha- mici, had taken up his quarters in the largest hut in the village, which happened to be the property of poor Ioko. A rough stockade of brushwood was placed around the huts, in order to guard against all danger of a sudden night attack. The bodies of the slain had been thrown into the river, and the captured women, naked, and trembling with fear, many of them with their arms tied behind them, were grouped together and placed in charge of Manyema headmen. Others of the marauding band proceeded from hut to hut collecting the trifles of domestic furniture used by the natives, consisting chiefly of small wooden stools, mats, cooking-pots, and ivory pestles used for pounding cassava. A few days after the Manyema had attacked Yabuli, they released two of the captive women to convey a message to the fugitives in the forest. These women were selected as being of little value, for they were old and feeble. Women are very lightly esteemed by the natives and are mere slaves, whose only duty is to bear children, cultivate the soil, and prepare food for their masters. "Go to your men, who have sought refuge in the forest," said Muini Khamici, the bandit leader. "Tell them their women are alive, and that we will 130 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO set them free when they bring us the tusks of ivory that they have hidden in the woods; we will sur- render a woman for each tusk. If they do not come to us with ivory on the fifth day from now, we shall take the women to another country and sell them to people who will kill and eat them. Kwenda!" When the two poor old women fully realised they were free, they darted into the woods, one after the other, displaying wonderful agility in picking their way through the dense undergrowth, and they finally halted, breathless, and trembling with excitement. "Oh, ma-ma — ma-ma-a-a!" they cried in a wail- ing monotone as they cowered on the ground, until, recovering strength and courage, they resumed their way, now calling loudly, now listening for a response from their friends, who were camped in the forest. At last, hearing an answer in the distance to their echoing calls, they started off in that direction, and were soon in the midst of an eager crowd. It was a pitiful picture, the meeting of these poor women with the fugitives, who were all excited, and fearful of every sound in the woods around them. The women were too bewildered at first to answer all their questions, but they finally managed to ex- plain their message; the men in anger snapped their fingers and ground their teeth. Ioko sat apart from his noisy companions, in moody silence, for his favourite wife, Kaolenge (the Strong One), with her THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 131 baby, had been captured by the Manyema, and his heart ached. The African savage is apparently incapable of any constant affection, but occasionally he does possess a tender, though rugged regard for a favourite wife. Ioko had almost given up hope of recovering his Strong One ; but now that he knew by what means he could redeem her, his spirits revived, and he determined to offer the Manyema his most valuable possession, the tusk of Litoi Linene. In the dead of night, with a fire-brand to light him through the forest, Ioko wended his way to the swamp where the tusk had been so long buried. He continued prodding the soft mud with his spear, until striking a hard substance, he discovered the object of his search ; and with considerable labour he succeeded in unearthing his buried treasure. Lifting the burden upon his powerful shoulders, and picking up his spear and fire-brand, which he blew into a glow, he returned to the camp and lay for the re- mainder of the night with the tusk beside him, his heart beating fast with excitement at the prospect of dealing with the treacherous Manyema on the morrow. At the first ray of dawn he wakened his companions to tell them of his intention of testing the truth of the Manyema's message by offering the tusk of Litoi Linene in exchange for his wife and child; and they all agreed, if Ioko's undertaking proved successful, 132 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO they would unearth their hidden tusks to redeem their own women and children. When Ioko drew near the Manyema stockade, his companions, who had followed to see the result of his errand, hid themselves behind the trees at the edge of the forest. It was daylight by this time and the Manyema were moving about among the huts. "Naonga!" ("I say") called Ioko from the woods. "Is it true that our women are alive ?" "It is indeed true," replied Muini Khamici, who was well enough acquainted with the Aruwimi dia- lects. Ioko called again from the woods: "I bring an elephant's tusk for Kaolenge and her child; but first let me hear her voice, that I may know you speak truly." , After a short consultation a woman's voice called from the village: "I am Kaolenge. Oh Ioko, I am your Kaolenge." Ioko then stepped boldly forward, and laying the tusk upon the ground, he retreated again behind the trees. Several of the Manyema pointed their guns to the forest to protect themselves from any treachery on the part of the natives, whilst others rushed for the tusk, which they carried to Muini Khamici, who stood by the entrance to the stockade. Orders were then given to free Kaolenge, and when the bonds were cut from the poor woman's THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 133 arms, she caught up her baby and fled like a deer to the forest, crying piteously. Ioko seized her by the wrist and led her further into the forest, when she fell cowering upon the ground at his feet, sobbing deeply, as she clasped her baby tightly to her breast. During the next few days, many other women were ransomed by their masters, and when there was no longer any prospect of obtaining more ivory from Yabuli, Muini Khamici and his gang evacuated the village, taking with them the remaining slaves — men, women, and children. They were now bound for Kizingiti, having obtained the amount of ivory expected of them by the Arabs. Crossing the Aruwimi River in native canoes, the caravan, which now numbered about three hundred people, two-thirds of whom were slaves, started on an overland march to the Congo River, which was reached at a place called Yangambi. This journey occupied five days, and the forests through which they traversed were dark and gloomy, the under- growth being so thick in some places that they fre- quently had to follow the beds of small streams and elephant paths whenever they found them leading in a south-easterly direction. The tusk of Litoi Linene, being too heavy for one man to carry, was lashed to a pole and borne by two slaves. The captive women carried the lighter tusks and a large collection of native utensils, consisting 134 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO principally of small wooden stools, ivory pestles, cook- ing-pots and grass mats, all of which were the recog- nised perquisites of the Manyema, who themselves carried only their guns and ammunition, and acted as guards to the caravan, while their wives, who were also from the Manyema country, carried fowls, bas- kets of maize, long stalks of sugar-cane, and other provisions, all stolen from the native villages. When they reached Yangambi the whole company embarked in native canoes and were paddled up the river, four days' journey, by friendly natives. At Kizingiti the slaves were distributed among certain Arabs' plantations, and the ivory was piled up in a hut where Tippo Tib divided the spoil between the Arabs who had a share in the expedition. Tippo Tib selected his own share with his customary shrewd- ness, and included the tusk of Litoi Linene, which he presented to a favourite wife of his harem, who con- cealed it in one of the dark rooms of his tembe, where for nearly six years it lay, covered with mats and rubbish, and was apparently forgotten. As time passed, Tippo Tib discarded his once fa- vourite wife, and Litoi Linene's tusk was confiscated and was among the first that were sold to a white trader, and soon it was stowed away with the others in the hold of the little river steamer which travelled down the Congo to Stanley Pool, past the riverside villages of thousands of savages, stopping each even- THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 135 ing at sunset, alongside the forest bank, where, by the flickering light of camp fires, the crew of the steamer cut dry wood into short lengths to provide fuel for the engine's furnace, and all night long merry songs of men and sounds of axes echoed through the dark, silent forest. After sixteen days' journey down the Congo, the little steamer dropped anchor, and the tusks of ivory that had been all that time stowed in the dark hold were taken ashore and placed under guard in a rude structure that served for a store-house; for up to that time European traders had not been able to erect any permanent buildings, for want of the neces- sary materials. The ivory did not remain here long, for as soon as the natives could be engaged to carry it down country, the tusks were brought out, marked, and placed in a row. At a given signal the carriers, who had been keenly watching these proceedings, rushed wildly forward in order to select the lighter tusks, and soon all were appropriated, except the tusk of Litoi Linene, which no one volunteered to carry on account of its weight. The trader tried in vain to persuade different men to take it, but they emphat- ically shook their open hands and one man said: "Ve, ve, yae mzito bene mundili, kulenda kwami ko, sea mona mpassi nyingi kuna ngila." [No, no* it is very heavy, white man ; I cannot carry it, I should see too much trouble on the path.] 136 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Eventually it was arranged that this tusk should be lashed on a pole and carried by two men, each being paid the same amount of cotton cloth as if carrying a full load. The caravan consisted of fifty men and boys, all belonging to the Bakongo tribe, under a headman or Kapita. From Stanley Pool the series of cataracts, which extend a distance of two hundred miles to Matadi, render it necessary to transport merchandise, ivory, and all other loads, overland, and small companies were recruited from different parts of the Lower Congo country, under a responsible headman, to carry the burdens on their heads and shoulders. This journey was divided into two stages of a hundred miles each, and a transfer was made at Manyanga, as the people above and below this place are not always on good terms with each other, al- though they are apparently of the same tribe and speak the same language. The first stage of this overland journey from Stan- ley Pool to Manyanga occupied six days, and the little caravan wended its way up and down hills, which af- forded beautiful views of the distant country and the mighty Congo surging and eddying between its pre- cipitous banks. But scenic magnificence is unnoticed and unappreciated by the Bakongo carrier, whose sen- sual tastes are more influenced by a gaudy-coloured cloth, or a feast of elephant beef. i . Native fighting knife and sheath, Rua In the collection of the Author THE TALE OF A TUSK OF IVORY 137 At Manyanga the ivory was transferred to another caravan, which journeyed seven days over steep hills, through deep swamps, and across numerous small rivers, until Matadi was reached. The ivory was then placed on board a river steamer, which con- veyed it in two days to Banana, the trading depot at the mouth of the Congo. Here Litoi Linene's tusk was stored away with hundreds of others that had previously been sent down from the far interior, until the arrival of an ocean steamer, which conveyed the whole accumulation to Liverpool, where it was shortly afterwards sold by auction. Litoi Linene's tusk, which had passed through so many strange phases, was now consigned to an ivory carver and turner, who ingeniously converted its hard substance into billiard balls, paper-knives, and various articles for the toilet table. And when the turner's work was finished, the little mound of ivory dust beneath his lathe was all that remained there of the tusk of the evil-spirited elephant Litoi Linene. STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS I once by mischance shot a cow elephant. The ele- phant emerged suddenly from long grass at the edge of a wood. After it had fallen dead, its little young one suddenly appeared. It could not have been more than a few weeks old. I was accompanied by two Houssas, men of great size and strength, and we three ran forward to catch the little fellow. The Houssas each grabbed a leg, and seated them- selves upon the ground. I took hold of an ear. The dear little animal stood quite quietly for some time, and then, apparently resenting this interference with his freedom, he shook his head, throwing me on my back, cast off the two Houssas, and trotting away to the bush he soon disappeared from sight. A native coming to me at dawn, told me that he knew of the whereabouts of elephants. He led the way. After travelling several times the distance he had previously indicated, I expostulated with him for lying, and refused to go further. It was the early part of the afternoon. He replied: 138 STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 139 "Oh, you had better come on now! It is further for you to go back to your camp than it is to go to where the elephants actually are." Near Wamba I shot a solitary rogue elephant without tusks. He was standing at the edge of a forest. I fired three times at his head before he fell, and as he recovered from my second shot he came towards me tearing up a small tree on his way, enveloping himself in dust. He was charging when my third shot took effect. The natives were soon attracted by the reports of my rifle, and were highly elated at the prospect of a banquet upon the elephant's remains. My disap- pointment at obtaining no ivory must have been apparent to the old native chief, for he said in his soft musical language: "I suppose the white man looks sad, because the elephant had no valuable ivory. But he need not be sad, for see what happiness is ours! See what a quantity of meat there is for us!" Going after elephants in a valley which was very much overgrown with high grass, I conceived the idea of sitting on the shoulders of a native follower, a man of giant stature. The plan succeeded admirably and we approached 140 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO stealthily almost within gunshot of a fine bull ele- phant standing dozing, apart from the herd. Just as I raised my gun to fire, my support van- ished from beneath me and I was plunged into the thick black mire. It took some little time to recover myself and to obtain explanations, but I eventually found that my carrier had almost stepped upon a python, whose head, he said, was raised level with his eyes. A somewhat similar experience occurred to me in stalking buffaloes in high grass. I heard a hissing sound which I took to be the snorting of a buffalo. With my gun I parted the grass in front of me as far as I could reach. To my horror I suddenly caught sight of the head of a python, swaying gently back- wards and forwards. For a brief second, fascination held me motionless. Then I dropped my gun and ran. ;$s % % H< * By my faulty aim I once wounded an elephant. Starting at dawn, I followed its track all day. The country was very rough, and taxed my endurance to the utmost. About sundown, when I came up with the wounded elephant, in a little belt of wood, I had barely strength enough to fire a last shot. After it had fallen dead I clambered on the carcase, and STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 141 vomited from sheer exhaustion. I passed the entire night lying on the body. It rained heavily. H« * * jH ^ It is no uncommon thing for hitherto populous districts to be deserted on account of the marauding of elephants, and the depredations they caused in the native plantations. Elephants frequently swim across the Congo. The whole of the body is submerged, their trunks and the top of their heads alone being above water. The natives remarked about the elephants and buf- faloes, that although they are found frequently to- gether, there is always a certain amount of ill-feeling existing between them, and the natives ascribe it as being due to the elephants' cleanly habits, and their resentment of the buffaloes' carelessness. Elephants frequently cover their dung with a leafy bough. It is extraordinary to notice the way in which both elephants and buffaloes will help the wounded one of a herd to escape, even though the beast may be very badly injured. Elephants are gregarious. For food they are es- pecially fond of the succulent branches and young twigs of certain trees and fruits, and tender bark. The elephant seldom lies down. He sleeps on his four legs, leaning his body against a rock or tree or 142 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO ant-hill, and resting the points of his tusks upon the ground in front of him. The elephant's trunk is in the first place an organ of smell. Secondly it enables the animal to quench its thirst in the shallowest waters and to reach the twigs upon which it feeds, and thirdly it possesses a wonderful sense of touch. The meat of elephants is very highly thought of by the natives, but my experience certainly gave me the impression that no portion of the animal was fit for food in any form whatever, however long a time was spent in cooking it. The flesh of the young hippopotamus however is delicious — or it appeared so to us in Africa. In flavour it resembled a blend between pork and beef. ***** By the evidence of coins the African elephant is proved to have been utilised by man in the days of the Carthaginians. Since that time the art of taming the African elephant has been lost. The fact that the African elephant is not now tamed and reduced to the service of man, as is the Asiatic species, is due more to the difference in the condition of the tribes of Africa, and their inferior civilisation, than to any defect in the docility of the African elephant. ***** In a Lower Congo village I remarked a series of peculiar scars upon the leg of a native, at strangely STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 143 regular intervals. The explanation given was that this man once when drunk, went to sleep on a native path. A python discovered him and commenced to swallow him by the leg. At a critical moment he was found, and the natives forthwith released the man by killing the python. The snake's teeth had marked parallel scars at equal distances up the man's leg. One evening at dusk I marked down a fine fat guinea fowl roosting in the branches of a tree some little distance off in swampy ground by the river side. Cautiously approaching, in order to make sure of my aim, for it was necessary to economise cartridges, I crept stealthily forward, my eyes being riveted upon the bird above and my mind concentrated upon a prospective supper of grilled guinea fowl. Suddenly it seemed to me as though the whole earth arose in front of me. I had stumbled on to the back of a sleeping hippopotamus. It would be difficult to say which of us was the most startled. The hippopotamus dashed to the river, whilst I picked myself up, and searched for my gun. In the meantime the guinea fowl flew away. % sfc Jfc ifc 5fc I had shot a buffalo during the afternoon, close to Makola's village, and the evening was merry, there being a sufficient supply of meat to satisfy all hands. 144 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO We supped in the open air, sitting around the crack- ling fire, and the meat was cut in roughly hewn steaks which were grilled upon pieces of stick stuck up over the fire. Having no tent, I accepted Chief Makola's hos- pitality, he offering me the shelter of his hut. His cane bed was situated at the far end of the hut. My camp bed, with its mosquito curtain, was put up in the middle. I soon fell asleep, being wearied by the day's ex- citement. I was awakened suddenly by the clank- ing of the brass bracelets and anklets worn by the chief. Being in utter darkness I required a moment or two to realise where I was. The chief had evi- dently over-eaten himself, and was suffering from bad dreams. I awakened him from his nightmare by throwing something in his direction, and he soon recomposed himself to sleep. For a few minutes all was quiet again. Just as I was on the point of falling off to sleep again I heard the ominous grunts of an old sow, rooting at my mosquito curtains. I flung my boots at it. Some little time was occupied in expelling the intruder, and once more I stretched myself out to sleep, and was just dozing when several native dogs, who evidently belonged to the house, commenced a furious fight over the remains of my supper, which I had care- fully placed under my bed for safe keeping. In STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 145 springing up to save my prospective breakfast, I became entangled in the mosquito curtain, and the whole concern fell with a crash. The chief jumped up very much alarmed, the dogs yelped, and soon the general uproar extended to the occupants of neighbouring huts. I spent the rest of the evening sitting over the dying embers of the fire outside. Although the roar of lions may be heard at rare intervals, they seldom frequent the region of the Congo River. On the shore of the Kwa-mouth I once followed the tracks of a lion across an open plain to the point at which it had entered a small belt of forest. It was nearly sundown, but I mus- tered my courage and entered the forest, remaining there in a vain search until dark. I recall this in- cident because it marked the occasion of my life when I was most conscious of absolute fear. jfc * 2f= * % It is astonishing how familiarity with danger soon renders men indifferent to it. For example, the Upper Congo is infested with crocodiles, and yet one finds the natives bathing and swimming and utterly ignoring the existence of these creatures in spite of frequent fatalities. I remember being in the midst of a merry group of children who were bathing in the shallow water at 146 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO the edge of the Congo near Lulungu, when suddenly a crocodile emerged from the river and rapidly dash- ing through their midst, it seized a chubby little fel- low who was standing some dozen yards up the bank away from the water. A second later and the croco- dile with its prey had disappeared in the river. Upon another occasion I saw a crocodile seize a native who was sitting in the stern of his canoe, idly drifting. With a stroke of its tail and a turn of the jaws the man disappeared ; there was a tinge of blood upon the water and the canoe drifted away empty. I once dived from a little stern-wheel steamer in which a party of us were travelling on the Upper Congo. The moment I reappeared on the surface of the water I was conscious by the expression on the faces of my companions that there was danger in my vicinity. With two or three strokes I reached the vessel's side, and as I clambered up hastily a large crocodile bumped heavily against the iron sheathing, just at the spot where I had left the water. One of my companions fired and wounded it. ^c ^e s}c ^c ^c The late Major Parminter once related to me an interesting incident. Seeing a dead chimpanzee in a native village, he affected to be much impressed by the similarity in the features of some of the natives around with those of the chimpanzee. STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 147 "Hum!" growled an old savage. "Your words may be true; but I say chimpanzees are full of wisdom, like the white man." "Yes," echoed another stepping forward, and part- ing the hair upon the monkey's shoulder: "chimpan- zees are much more like the white man than they are like us, for see, their skin is white!" During a long canoe journey on the Upper Congo, I carried with me four or five very talkative gray parrots, which had been given to me by the wife of the famous Arab Rachid, and taught by her to pro- nounce phrases in the Kiswahili language. Drifting down the river, past the vast primeval forest, flocks of wild gray parrots used frequently to fly over our heads whistling and shrieking. The at- tention of my pets was soon aroused, and it appeared strangely incongruous to hear my birds calling out to the wild ones as they flew past: "Good morning! What news! I hope you are well! Sit still! Don't disturb yourself!" * * * * * In company with Roger Casement on one oc- casion I camped in a wood, and in the evening while sitting in front of our camp fire, we discussed that great work of Schweinfurth, "The Heart of Africa," a book that we had both recently read. We talked together of the extraordinary ways of the ants de- 148 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO scribed therein, and of their methods of journeying in huge armies from one district to another. A remarkable coincidence occurred. Our native followers suddenly called our attention to an army of ants moving in our direction. Myriads of ants were passing close to our tent in a compact mass, and for some hours, with the aid of fire-brands, we watched the extraordinary progress of these insects. I frequently observed myriads of white butterflies all flying in one direction, giving the impression of a white cloud passing beside the forest, always fol- lowing the side of the river. 1 %. %. jjj % He The pariah dog resembles the Australian dingo. It has a foxy head, sharp nose, and pricked, trian- gular ears, smooth, fawn-coloured coat, and coiled tail. It wails and howls, but never barks. The allusion to their coiled tails recalls an amus- ing remark of Livingstone's. He had heard it said that this twist in the dog's tail was always inclined to follow the same direction. Every time he heard a 1 The Annals and Magazine of Natural History for January, 1891, con- tains a detailed description of four new species of Lepidoptera collected by the author. They are named as follows: Romaleosoma Sarita, sp. n. Romaleosoma Herberti, sp. n. Girpa Wardi, sp. n. Romaleosoma rubronotata. A pamphlet published by Emily Mary Sharpe in 1891 describes seventy- four rare specimens of Lepidoptera collected at Bangala and other places on the Upper Congo by the author. STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS 149 pariah dog yelping he said that he felt an irresistible inclination to run and ascertain which side his tail coiled. At Lukungu, in the cataract region, the natives once came to Ingham and myself to complain of the evil ways of a crocodile, which roamed about the valley in a most dangerous manner. The crocodile was said to have killed many people. Instead of confining itself to the vicinity of the river, after the manner of crocodiles in general, this reptile was known to travel quite long distances away from its natural element. At night when all was still, we sometimes heard what appeared to us to be a hoarse, asthmatical- sounding cough, and it was by these strange sounds that we were able to locate our quarry. After much difficulty and the expenditure of several cartridges, we succeeded in killing the crocodile. The natives were much excited ; they dashed forward and stabbed the body with their knives. It was a large crocodile and evidently of great age. In order to preserve the skin, the body was cut open, and examination of the stomach revealed two iron anklets which had been worn by one of its victims, a young girl who had mysteriously disappeared some time before. ODDITIES In order to relieve the monotony of my station life, I endeavoured to institute an athletic meeting among the natives of the surrounding villages. Such a thing was an entire novelty in [the country, where indeed the advent of the white man dated but a few months back. The chiefs with whom I discussed the matter readily agreed to bring their most powerful young men on the day appointed. They assented to my suggestions with so little surprise as to make it diffi- cult for me to realise that I was introducing to them an entertainment of quite a strange character. Early on the day fixed for the sports I was startled by gun-firing. Volleys were fired at regular inter- vals; indeed the firing lasted until about ten o'clock, by which time I found my station crowded by between five and six hundred natives. To provide refreshments for the party I had three large pigs roasted whole, and in addition to a limited quantity of palm-wine, which was scarce at that time, I had my two zinc baths filled with water so as to save 150 ODDITIES 151 my guests the trouble of going down the hill to the stream, which was some three hundred yards away. I soon discovered that the unanimous wish of the people was to begin proceedings by partaking of refreshments, and although this was quite contrary to the usual custom followed at athletic meetings, I gave way. By noon, provisions were exhausted, and there remained at the bottom of the two baths only a little greasy water where the natives had stooped down to drink after eating their fill of fat pork. The first item on the programme was a hundred yards race, in which every one seemed eager to enter. It was in vain that I tried to persuade them to relin- quish their spears and shields; they explained to me that they could run just as well with them as with- out them. The starting of this race was a most laborious business; handicapping was out of the question, and the line, when they all stood ready to go, extended for some distance. I had arranged to start them with a pistol-shot. After numberless false starts and a good deal of angry wrangling, wherein one-half of the company appeared to lose their tempers and the other half to become sulky, I at length succeeded in getting them off. Immediately all was chaos. The native idea seemed to be to win by disabling one's adversaries, and the race resolved itself into one wild struggle, 152 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO during which most of those engaged found them- selves on the ground. The winning post was passed by about fifty men en masse. I at last realised the difficulty of the situation. It was perfectly hopeless to explain matters. Every man who started in the race came to me claiming a prize, each one arguing that as he entered for the event he was justly entitled to reward. Angry words were soon followed by blows, and during the remainder of the afternoon I found myself in the midst of a violent, turbulent mob of people who were apparently bereft of all reason. The various chiefs next came to me for payment not only for their services, but also for the services of their people who had run in the race, and also for the gunpowder which they had expended in the morning, in order, so they said, to give the affair a good send-off. It was late that night before my station resumed its normal quiet, and as I stretched myself out for the night, it was with the full conviction that the time for introducing sporting events in that part of the country was not yet ripe. * * * * sH Kroo boys, brought down by outward-bound ships from the Kroo Coast, were generally employed as personnel in the trading houses situated around the mouth of the Congo. Their services were paid for in Wm0* - nirfr*' % m$ Studies by the Author ODDITIES 153 kind — flint-lock guns and cotton cloth — and it was customary each Sunday to allow the Kroo Boys to view the contents of the stores so that they might feast their eyes upon the bales of cloth, the hogs- heads of rum, and the piles of bran-new guns. The Kroo Boys were christened by the sailors of the ships that brought them from their homes on the Kroo Coast, their names being frequently pricked in tin plates which they wore around their necks. It was somewhat incongruous to see a gigantic Kroo Boy christened "Butterfly." Other favoured names were: " Wash-a-Crocodile," "Snowball," "Tin-pot," "Flying Jib," and "Sea-breeze." These names im- parted a comic aspect to life in a trading house, when, for example, one would hear that "Pea Soup" had stolen from "Saturday Night," or that a quarrel was going on between "Red Herring" and "Bottle-of- Beer." Among the little band of Zanzibaris who accompan- ied me in my canoe journey down the Upper Congo were two men who bore singular names — Juma Mak- engeza, the literal translation of which is "Friday with a squint." The other man's name literally translated meant "Go and shoot an elephant at three o'clock." ^ * sH * * I remember an amusing incident when a new- comer, an inexperienced white man, was placed in 154 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO charge of a number of Kroo Boys, engaged in the construction of a road at Old Vivi. The new-comer gave vague instructions, principally by gestures, for he was unfamiliar with the pidgen-English spoken by the Kroo Boys. It happened that a consignment of wheelbarrows had just arrived, and indicating these by a wave of his hand as the means by which the work could be accomplished, he forthwith retired to the shadow of a tree and went to sleep. Great was his astonishment on awakening, to find his Kroo Boys walking along solemnly in single file, each bearing upon his head sl wheelbarrow full of earth. * * * * * Kroo Boys do not make good soldiers. Once when there was some little difficulty with the natives and guns were fired, the Kroo Boy caravan incontinently bolted. They explained afterwards that they were not "War Boys." ***** During an attack of illness, when lying on my camp bed in a native hut, I heard a great commotion. Soon a shadow appeared at the door and with great diffi- culty the Queen of the Village squeezed herself side- ways through the aperture, which was none too large. There was nothing particularly regal about her appearance, albeit that she was a Queen. Her only clothing was a grass fringe round her enormous waist, iron bracelets, and a pair of empty cartridge ODDITIES 155 cases in her ears. She was quite abnormally stout, weighing probably upwards of three hundred pounds. Said she: "I have come to see you about a hippo- potamus!" "Sit down," said I, as politely as my knowledge of the native language permitted. Alongside my camp bed there was a wooden chop box which incidentally served me as a table, and this I indicated to her as a seat. She sat down awk- wardly. Rolls of fat enveloped the box and almost touched the ground. Unfortunately the box was not up to her weight and as the Queen warmed up to the subject of her grievance it suddenly emitted a loud, ominous crack. Already somewhat overwrought by excitement, she became instantly panic-stricken, dashed to the door, forgot to turn sideways, became jammed in the framework and in her struggles the entire structure of the hut was nearly carried away. Thus ended my brief acquaintance with the Queen. She carefully avoided meeting me again, and as I left the village soon afterwards, the story of the hippo- potamus remained for ever untold. * * * * * In the year 1885, as Chief of Bangala Station, I witnessed the recruitment of the first band of Ban- galas, who were to be sent down to headquarters at Boma, there to be disciplined and drilled, in order to test their suitability for military life. 156 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO They were a wild-looking crowd of young savages, these members of a cannibal tribe. Several among them had only recently for the first time seen a white man. When they embarked on the river steam launch which was to conduct them down river, their bodies were covered with paint, and each man carried his spear and shield, for it is the custom of the tribe for a man always to be armed. A few months later I witnessed their return. They were mustered by a word of command and marched past the Station. It was hard indeed to believe that they were the same savage youths. They wore odd costumes, gaudy soldiers' coats and other cast-off European apparel. Some carried umbrellas under their arms, others carried bottles of salt water from the ocean, for Bangala is situated a thousand miles from the sea, and salt water was esteemed so much a curiosity that they brought back samples to aston- ish their people. One roguish-looking fellow smoking a clay pipe, attired in an old dress-coat, with cocked hat and a pair of much worn magenta-coloured riding-breeches, twirled a small cane in his fingers. Chirping up a mangy pariah dog that followed at his heels, he said jauntily, in English: "Come on, come on!" # * * * * In company with an Austrian cavalry officer, who by the way, bore the name of a famous European ODDITIES 157 family, duty led me to the village of Ndunga. The subject of investigation related to the murder of two letter-carriers, and it was supposed that the crime was committed by members of this particular village. The interview with the Chief Ngudi N'Kama and his court was a picturesque function, and all went well for a time. At an unfortunate moment however, through a misunderstanding, a gun was accidentally fired. In a moment all was confusion. My com- panion yelled to me to catch the chief, whilst he occupied himself with making prisoners of as many people as he could capture. Having captured the chief, I was instructed to return with him to our camp. Leaving the village and wending our way along the tortuous native paths, guns were fired at us from all directions, the men being hidden in the high grass. Our path led us to a deep ravine where there was a fringe of wood, and a stream. It was uncommonly hot. Reaching the wood at the bottom of the hill we rested beside a water-hole. Ngudi N'Kama, whose hands were tied behind his back, stooped down to drink. Turning my back for a moment, to keep a look-out, for the angry people were lurking in the grass all around us, I found that Ngudi N'Kama had suddenly vanished. At first I stood perplexed; then I darted hither and thither, but found no trace of him. It suddenly occurred to 158 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO me that he must have tumbled into the water-hole, and I was only just in time to save him from being drowned. ^ 2$: % j£ % I once came upon a group of natives who were grumbling. Said the chief: "We are unhappy peo- ple! We have nothing left. Leopards have killed our goats, and our plantations have been trampled and ruined by elephants." "Yes," remarked a dismal-looking fellow, "it's a good thing for us that elephants don't hunt fish. If they did we should have nothing to eat at all." The chief of Lulungu once sent a very terse mes- sage to the captain of an upper river steamer saying that he and his people had robbed many things from the steamer during the night, that they now had shirts and trousers such as the White Man wore, but they had not succeeded in stealing any boots. If the White Man did not send boots by the time the sun was high, there would be war! It is the custom of the Bakongo natives to end a speech by saying "Wanga," a word signifying: "Do you understand?" A little African boy, brought up in the Mission, prayed that he might always have plenty to eat, that he might never have any work to do, and that he ODDITIES 159 might have fine clothes to wear and when he grew up, that he might attain the social standing of the white man. Then said he at the end of his heart- spoken prayer: " Wanga Nzambi, Wanga ?" meaning: "Do you understand, God — Do you understand?" * * * * ^ In the course of conversation with a man named Luemba, living in the cataract region of the Lower Congo, he said: "I have worked for white men and have had much hardship. I have been flogged for making mistakes, I have had my pay stopped, and I have seen much trouble. Now I will worship God and live quietly by the side of the mission station listening to the missionary who says that it does not matter whether we be rich or poor, for rich and poor alike enjoy the same chances of going to heaven. What use is it for me to work ? No ! I will sleep. ***** I well remember the occasion of the arrival of the first sewing machine on the Congo. As soon as it was set in motion the natives crowded round and commenced a rhythmical dance, parading round with prancing steps in a hollow circle, dancing, as they presumed, to a new kind of musical instrument. ***** Mabruki, a Zanzibari lad, had served as cook's mate on an English ship and had picked up a 160 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO smattering of the language, but he found difficulty in pronouncing the letter "r." Once when ques- tioned about the dinner, he replied: "Lice and loast meat." }(» >{C JjC 5jC 5(1 At the mouth of Lomami River the people wear large circular pieces of ivory in their upper lips, which recalls Sequabo's remark to Dr. Living- stone, alluding to a Zambesi tribe who were simi- larly adorned: "These people want to make their mouths look like ducks." * * * * * In telling a person to be silent, the natives of Lukolela say: "Tie your mouth." "We do not want cloth," said the people of the Malinga River. " Give us something to wear. Give us beads!" ***** An Arab one day asked me to explain the con- tents of a little tin which had been given to him by Wissman during his memorable voyage across Africa. I took pains to make him understand that the contents of the tin represented the essence of beef prepared in such a manner that the greatest amount rt * ^ o 2 "3 O « «t ft 3 °1 ft «J g ■« ODDITIES 161 of nourishment was concentrated in the smallest possible quantity. "You surprise me," said he, "because I was led to understand that it contained a salve, and in fact, I have used it in trying to heal my ulcerated leg!" * * jK * * I once noticed an alarm bell suspended over the entrance of a stockaded village. It was a very clumsy affair, and only an interloping elephant would have been likely to make it ring. A long neck is considered a point of beauty in women. I once heard two natives talking of a woman that one of them had recently purchased. Placing his hands one horizontally above the other, the proud purchaser signified by this gesture that her neck was equal in length to the width of his two hands. 2jC 3(C ?JC 3JC 3fl Just before the decapitation of a slave, who was being sacrificed according to custom after the death of a chief, I observed a relative of the recently de- ceased chief engaged in serious conversation with the poor man, whose hands and feet were already bound, and who was just about to be executed. I ascertained that the victim was receiving a message which, after death, he was charged to convey to the 162 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO spirit of the deceased chief. The conclusion of the message was somewhat as follows* " — And tell him when you meet, that his biggest war-canoe, which I inherit, is rotten.'" jj: •%. sfc % ^s In company with his son a man once visited me and made a long speech. My knowledge of the Kikongo language at that time was very slight, but my keenness was great and I followed the speech carefully in the hopes of detecting words which would supply a clue to his meaning. There were but two words, however, that seemed at all familiar to me: "sick" and "head." I naturally concluded that the man was suf- fering from headache and had come to me for medicine, my reputation as a dispenser of bitter draughts and drugs having spread in the surround- ing country. Preparing a somewhat powerful dose of Epsom salts, I handed the man the tin pannikin instruct- ing him by signs and gestures to drink, and that forthwith his head sickness would cease. He handed the tin to his little son, who eagerly put it to his lips. I expostulated with the man for passing his medicine to his son, explaining that it contained no mystic properties, and insisted upon his finishing it, which he did subsequently and against his will. ODDITIES 163 The following day, in passing through the village, I recognised the same man lying in front of his hut, looking dejected. I expressed my surprise at seeing him in this condition, stating, as far as my linguistic powers permitted me, that I expected the medicine was sufficiently potent to have cured him. The man rose and shook his head sadly. "There was never anything the matter with me," he explained through an interpreter. "It was my son that was ill. You gave me the medicine, and I have been sick ever since." A touching incident illustrating the sentiment of gratitude followed my efforts to give relief to a suf- fering baby. Some months afterwards I was sur- prised in the middle of the night by seeing a dark shadow cast upon the entrance to my tent. A woman's voice, hushed in tone, said to me: "Here, O White Man, take this egg! Many moons ago my baby suffered. You gave it medicine and it is well. I am a poor woman ; I have nothing. But— Oh take this eggV 9 Much touched by her words, I arose from my bed, accepted the egg, and placed it in one of my boots for safe-keeping. The following morning, whilst my caravan was getting ready for the day's march, I gave the egg to my cook, instructing him to poach it for my break- 164 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO fast. A few minutes later he returned to me, holding in his hand a broken egg-shell, saying: "Master, that egg was a bad one!" Alfred Parminter, in order to impart a little spirit of civilisation into the wilderness, conceived an idea of having all his servants dressed alike. Laying a piece of Manchester cotton cloth on the ground, he placed a servant on it lying on his back, and with a charcoal stick from the fire he traced the boy's form upon the cloth, doubled it, and had the two portions sewn together! Armed with my .577 express rifle, I was hurrying towards a distant valley, where I had been informed there were elephants to be found. On my way I met a party of six or eight men, armed with flint- lock guns and amply provided with powder-flasks and wallets containing missiles. I was impressed by their warlike appearance. "Where are you going in such a hurry ?" said they. "After elephants/' I replied. "And you — where are you going?" "Oh, we are going to the valley below to shoot rats." ***** Our Houssa soldiers, who were employed in the Congo Independent State, were recruited from the ODDITIES 165 Niger country. Many of them had served on the West Coast under English officers. They were nearly all of them fine fellows, devoted and loyal, courageous and honest. They acted as a perfect "set-off" to the Zanzibaris, and they proved them- selves invaluable in maintaining order. The con- trast between this western race and the eastern African was remarkable. The Houssa was a silent, sturdy fellow, without the faculty of adapting him- self to the ways of others; he was slow to learn the Congo languages, and never fraternised with the natives. The Zanzibari, on the other hand, was gay and versatile; quick to learn new dialects, quick to ingratiate himself into the confidence of the natives, fickle perhaps in love-affairs, and generally indif- ferent to the future. One Christmas Day our Houssa sergeant-major came to offer his greetings, and suggestively informed us that in Houssaland at Christmas time they gen- erally ate beef "until their teeth ached" A VILLAGE ROMANCE It was the noon-day period of idleness in the prim- itive village home of the Bangala. Since early morn- ing the African sun had poured forth its fierce heat from an unclouded sky, and the air had grown so hot and oppressive that the savages stretched their naked bodies upon the dusty ground, beneath the eaves of their grass-thatched huts, where they lay motionless in attitudes of slumber. So great was the heat of the sun, that even the sun-birds and the butterflies had flown to the cool, shady foliage of the trees, and the heavy breathing of the sleepers was the only sound that broke the death-like silence of the village. From an adjacent clump of bushes, there suddenly emerged the lithe naked form of a young savage. His broad-bladed spear and metal ornaments glis- tened in the strong sunlight, and his feather head- dress fluttered as he stepped quickly forward to survey the sleeping figures of his tribesmen. Apparently failing in his quest, he subsequently approached a dilapidated hut, calling softly: "Balala! O! Balala!" 166 A VILLAGE ROMANCE 167 Almost immediately a handsome, well-formed girl stepped forth from the dark interior. Approaching the young man with a glad smile of recognition, she said : "Makwata! Hey! You! Is it good or evil news?" "Balala, my pretty bird, I come to speak good words. Come! let us go where no listener can hear." Strolling away together, the lovers soon found themselves in a forest of stunted palms, well con- cealed from prying eyes and listening ears. For some moments the young man gazed upon the dusky beauty in silent admiration. "And what may be thy great good news, Mak- wata ?" inquired Balala, coyly, as she smoothed her braided hair and plucked a fresh green palm-leaf into tiny shreds. Throwing his spear aside, Makwata placed his hand upon her shoulder : "This morning, when the sun was high, I went far into the forest yonder in search of game. I went alone. As I picked my way through the thorny bushes, I heard a sound. I stepped forward with- out noise. In front of me stood an old bull elephant — an elephant with long, gleaming tusks. He was sleeping; his body rested against a monster ant-hill. As I looked upon those large shining tusks I thought of you, Balala. There, before me, were two ele- 168 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO phant tusks large enough to buy you from your greedy father. Some good spirit must have led me to that spot. I gripped my spear, the same one that lies on the ground, and, with one plunge, I drove the whole blade into the elephant's shoulder, into the place that kills quickly. Then I darted aside, and watched the great elephant shake, stagger, fall and die." "What? It is dead? You killed the elephant? Oh, Makwata! Some good spirit was indeed with you this day. Brave Makwata! Good Makwata!" and Balala coiled her arms around her lover's neck, and gazed into his face with an expression of ad- miration and love. "But, Makwata, art thou sure that it would be a good bargain to pay my father two such valuable tusks of ivory for me ? Two large tusks would surely buy two, if not three, women stronger to work, with broader backs to carry burdens, than mine." "Your words are true, Balala, but to me you are worth more than all other women. Your saucy laugh, your happy heart, and your pretty face and figure, shall be mine. For many weary moons I have been poor — too poor to buy you. All that time I have lived in constant fear lest my enemy, Mueli, would take you. His eye has been upon you, and is he not a chieftain, and has he not many slaves and tusks of ivory? But now my fear is passed, for to-morrow, A Congo idyll From a bronze group by the Author A VILLAGE ROMANCE 169 when the sun is still high, I will see thy father and pay his price. Then Balala, thou wilt be my wife." Balala clapped her hands like a delighted child. "This moon is now full. In fourteen days it will be gone. Think, Makwata! we can be wed on the day of the new moon. Do not all the great charm- doctors of our tribe say good fortune follows a new moon marriage?" "It is so. In fourteen days, nuni ami (my bird), we will eat from one dish. To-morrow I will com- mence to build a hut, and I will fish for you, and I will hunt for you, my Balala." "O Makwata! My heart beats for joy. See the tears of happiness in my eyes." Thus they continued to talk of their prospective happiness, until the sun was well past its zenith, and its rays shone slantwise through the palms, casting trellis-like shadows upon the ground. In the village a few naked boys bestirred themselves, and commenced to carry on a mimic warfare, with their miniature bows and reed arrows. As the lovers parted, a wounded dog ran yelping and howl- ing past them. Some mischievous boy had fired a well-aimed arrow into its skinny ribs. Makwata's elephant provided an ample feast of strong-flavoured meat for all, and throughout the afternoon the air reeked with the odour of cooking flesh, and echoed with shouts and careless laughter. 170 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Full stomachs make happy hearts among these poor wild forest-dwellers of Central Africa. In the evening after the sun had set and when the fireflies commenced to sparkle like glittering dia- monds around the bushes in the village a monster wooden drum boomed forth an invitation to a night dance in celebration of the feast. Later on, hundreds of naked feet shuffled and stamped upon the ground, keeping time to the rhythm of a weird song, in which the rich bass voices of the men formed, as it were, an echo to the shrill falsetto chanting of the women. Rows of dark, naked bodies, glistening with perspiration, advanced and receded, with sinuous movements, amidst the luxuriant foliage of graceful palms and broad-leaved banana- trees. Above the sound of clanging and jin- gling metal ornaments, treble-toned drums of goat- skin rattled in unison with the booming of huge hollow log drums, the deep, full sound of which filled the clear night air with reverberation. The lightest-hearted dancer in all the gathering of childish-minded revellers was Balala, the proud and happy favourite of Makwata. From time to time she glanced upwards at the waning moon, and thought how wearily the time passed. Makwata, the hero of the hour, was absent that night in the great dark forest, guarding the precious tusks of ivory, which, at sunrise, were to purchase Bust of Bakongo girl (Musee de Luxembourg, Paris) From a bronze by the Author A VILLAGE ROMANCE 171 Balala from her father. Makwata too glanced sometimes at the moon, which shone faintly through the foliage overhead, and he pictured to himself the lithe and supple form of his young favourite pirouetting and prancing as the leader of the dance. His savage heart was softened by the influence of love. During the next two weeks the waning moon passed gradually away; and Makwata, who had satisfactorily concluded his bargain with Balala's father, and who had been busy building a hut with bundles of tall reeds and plaited palm fronds, now gazed contentedly upon his future home, which was completed even to the three-stoned hearth upon which the family cooking-pot was to rest above the burning logs. At last the long-looked-for day of the new moon arrived, and as it was dull and showery Makwata decided to take advantage of the auspicious condition of the weather to spend the morning in fishing, in order that his larder might be abundantly stocked for his wedding supper. Balala, even more blithe and gay than usual, spent the morning with her female relatives, who in the intervals of gossip, dressed and plaited her crisp, woolly hair into becoming braids, using as a comb a long iron skewer, and greasing the points with red palm oil. 172 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Returning at mid-day from his fishing excursion, Makwata made his canoe fast to the overhanging branch of a tree, and stepped ashore with a basket well filled with squirming eels and fresh-caught fish. His heart was light and his spirits were high for that day at sunset Balala was to share his hut. As he passed through the narrow dirty streets of the village, and glanced at the crowds of cruel coarse- featured women, he knew that there was not in all his tribe a brighter prettier girl than Balala. "Hist! hist! Makwata," cried a withered old woman, who lay upon a heap of rotting grass by the wayside. "Makwata! I am sick and hungry. See these feeble arms, and look upon my mis- erable face. I am a slave but give me food Mak- wata." Makwata threw a glistening fish upon the ground beside her and hurried on. Shortly past noon the village was aroused by a strong man's angry voice. With curses and shouts of fury, Makwata dashed from street to street, with poised spear. His limbs shook and his voice was inarticulate with rage. Balala had disappeared. Some evil had befallen the bride upon her wed- ding-day. Makwata, instantly suspecting foul play, had set off in search of his bitter enemy and rival, Mueli. A VILLAGE ROMANCE 173 From hut to hut he rushed in a state of frenzy. His hoarse voice and angry features caused great alarm among the women, who rushed away shriek- ing, with their children in their arms. The men quietly collected their knives and spears, in an- ticipation of trouble. The search was in vain. Mueli had also van- ished. With a groan of anguish Makwata threw himself upon the ground, at the foot of a giant cotton-tree, some little distance from the village, and ground his teeth. While he lay in an agony of despair, the old withered hag, to whom he had given fish, appeared from the bushes and silently approached him. "Makwata!" Makwata, startled by her voice, sprang to his feet and scowled angrily. In a mysterious tone she said "Listen to my words before you look so wrathfully upon me. Your heart is sad, for evil has been done to you. Makwata, I know where Mueli hides ; I followed him. It is with him you will find Balala." "Where are they? Speak quickly, woman, for my blood boils." "Take thy strongest spear, Makwata, and go straight into the forest yonder, in a direction towards the setting sun. There is no path. Go straight and thou wilt find them. Settle thy quarrel with 174 A VOICE FROM THE CONGO Mueli then. He is an evil-hearted enemy to us both." Without a word Makwata dashed into the gloomy forest with his keen-edged knife and spear. The old woman watched him disappear, as, in a chuck- ling tone, she mumbled to herself as she turned away towards the bushes: "Have I not paid thee well for thy fish, Makwata ? May thy arm be strong." Far away in the forest, amidst enormous trees and a perfect labyrinth of vines and creepers, upon the bank of a stream stood Mueli, calmly watching the contortions of a young girl, who lay writhing upon the ground with her limbs firmly bound by twisted creepers. There was a cruel, brutal expression upon his face as he said, sneeringly: "Thy bonds are strong, and thy cries are useless here. Listen now. To-night I leave thee here for I am going to the village to take Makwata's life. To-morrow I return, and you will then be one of the wives of Mueli, the Bangala chieftain." Balala writhed and shrieked until the woods echoed with her cries. "OMama! Hey Makwata! Hey!" A twig snapped, a leafy branch was thrust aside, and Makwata bounded forward. When within a few paces of Mueli he hurled his spear with furi- ci c3 3 bJD ^ C pq =s pO « b£ 8 ^ Q > -cS