There was one especial surprise for us. When the king became aware that Faleiro had ordered our departure, he sent word that he wished at last to conclude some trade with us. And after all this long delay, we did indeed engage in active bargaining, buying from them with our rugs and our beads and our looking-glasses the elephanto tusks that we had come there to obtain. This exchange, too, may have had some mystical significance, the king thinking to please his gods by obtaining our shiny merchandise from us and putting it on their altars: at least, I can find no reason otherwise for this sudden willingness to have commerce, after that we had been kept waiting so long. We filled our hold with ivory and with palm-cloth, and also with something else of high value, that is, elephanto tails. These were of no worth to the Portugals, God wot, but were much prized by the blacks of Angola, who wove the hair of them into necklaces and girdles; I learned from Faleiro that fifty of the coarse hairs of the tail were valued at a thousand reis of Portugal money, which is the same as six English shillings. So we were obtaining these tails from this land rich in elephantos in order to trade them elsewhere for slaves, and thus the circle of merchandising doth go in these territories.
Within two days we were fully laded and ready to go. In that time we slept very little, remaining vigilant always against the Jaqqa attack, for we thought the man-eaters might come like ghosts from any direction, without warning.
The same thought was in the minds of the blacks, and they were constantly on guard, their faces so drawn and fearful that I thought sure they would soon begin to die of their own timidity. These Loango folk were more terrified than if an army of giant coccodrillos were heading toward them.
At this time one of our number took advantage most shamefully of the disarray of the Loangans. I had my first clue of this when I saw two of the lower Portugal sailors trading among themselves, and haggling over a fine knife of African manufacture, with great green jewels set in its hilt. I happened upon them and took the thing from them to admire it, and turned it over in my hand, and said, “Where did you come by this? I saw nothing like it in the marketplace!”
“Ah, it is an old one,” said they, “which a poor ancient woman was selling, to pay some high expense of hers.”
That sounded believable enough; but soon after I saw the same thing, a bargaining between two of the most common men upon a disk of splendid ivory carved most strangely. And I asked some questions, and then some more, and what I learned was this: that the sly and shameless Tristão Caldeira de Rodrigues, under cloak of night and at a time when the Loango people were too concerned with Jaqqas to expend men properly on guarding their holy places, had crept out to the sacred cemetery-place at Loangiri and had despoiled one of the finest of the graves, carrying away a sack of treasure for his private enrichment, and selling off a few pieces to the others to cover certain gambling debts of his.
I suppose it was my place to bring the matter to Faleiro, or to ask counsel of Mendes Oliveira or Pinto Cabral, and not to take it into my own hands. But already had I my choler aroused by this worthless young man, and fate brought him across my path just then before I saw any of the others. And so I taxed him with his crime, and asked if the tale I had heard were true.
He gave me a saucy glare, as though to say, “How dare you reproach me, English clod-grubber, English ruffian!” And shrugged, and would have walked away.
But I took him by the wrist and said, “Answer me, is it so?”
“And if it is, what is that to you?”
“It has great import to me.”
“Ah,” he said, “you are co-religionist with these blacks, and take it as a sacrilege. Eh? But let me tell you, Englishman, if you touch me on the arm again, or anywhere else, I will put the point of my dagger into your privates, if you have any.”
“You talk boldly, boy. Let us see how bold you are, when the demon-mokisso of these blacks reaches out, and hurls you into the sea for your impiety.”
“What, and do you believe that?” he said, seeming genuinely astounded.
“That I do.”
“Nay,” he said. “You are a fool, Englishman! There are no demons here! There are no gods! There are only treasures for the taking, and ignorant naked savages who must surrender them to those who are their betters.”
I regarded him with much coolness and said, “They tell me you are the son of a duke, and I am only the son of a mariner, so I should not lesson you in matters of courtesy. But I tell you this, that we English peasants, dirty and ignorant though we be, have sufficient respect for the dead, whether they be white or black or green of skin, to let them sleep unperturbed, without going among them to filch away their treasures. That is one matter, and not a trifling one, but it is merely a matter of courtesy, which may not be of importance to you, for you are a duke’s son and above all such little fine punctilios.”
“Indeed,” said he, “I will hear no instruction from you on points of breeding.”
“Nor should you. But hear at least this: these people have gods and demons, even as we, and surely those dark beings do guard their holy places. And we are about to undertake our voyage southward in troublesome seas. I tell you, sirrah, that your greed here may well bring a curse upon our voyage, and cost us all our lives: and I will not be pilot on a doomed voyage.”
At that he looked somewhat sobered, though his glare was chilly as ever, and the purple birthmark on his cheek did blaze in bright token of his fury at my interfering with him.
I said further, “I will go straightaway to Master Faleiro, and tell him I will not sail, and I will tell him why.”
“Will you, now?”
“And if he has also plundered, and cares nothing for what you have done, then so be it: I will remain here, and have my chances with the Jaqqa hordes, and let you all sail pilotless out into whatever fate awaits you.”
Caldeira de Rodrigues now did shift his weight from foot to foot, and look most discomforted, and say, “A curse, you think? On an old yard where ancient bones do moulder? Come, Piloto, this is foolishness!”
“Not to me, and I know something of the sea, and I will not go venturing on a ship that bears a man that is marked for the vengeance of the spirits.”
“And you will tell this to Faleiro?”
“That I most assuredly will.”
He was silent a long while. Then he said, with the gleam of the seducer upon his eye, “I will share with you, half and half, if you will be silent.”
“Ah, and allow me to share the curse as well?”
“But who can be sure that there will be a curse?” he cried.
“And who can be sure that there will not?” said I.
Again he considered. And it seemed to me that I had struck deep to his shabby soul, and frighted him: for callous he might be, and airy and mocking, and guided only by his own greeds, but no man can wholly ignore the power of the unseen world, save at his deadly peril. Thus I think a dispute went on within Tristão Caldeira de Rodrigues, in which he did balance his great avarice against his love of life, and bethought himself of the perils of the sea, and, I believe, considered for the first time that there might truly be witch-fires protecting the treasures of the Loango-people’s dead ones. I saw all this moving about on the face of that worthless youth, his anger at me for interfering with his theft warring with his own fear of perishing by shipwreck. And I believe also another thing did hold high urgency in his mind, that he was intent on keeping Faleiro from knowledge of his crime, either because he thought he might lose his stolen goods to the master, or that the terms of his exile in Angola were such that he dared not be taken in the act of performing such looting, out of fear of heavy punishment.
At any rate, he did much calculation in very few moments; and then he said, giving me the thoughtful eye, “If I return to the cemetery that which I have taken, will you swear to say nothing to Faleiro?”
“That I will, most heartily.”
“And may I believe such an oath?”
“Do you take me for a villain? I h
ave not the fortune to be a duke’s son; therefore must I make do with mine honor alone.”
“You are a troublesome meddler, Piloto, and a fool.”
“But not a rogue, sirrah.”
“Keep a civil tongue, or I’ll have it out with my blade!”
His threat gave me no unease.
“We were speaking of your returning what you had stolen,” quietly I said.
“Aye. And I will put back everything, since you leave me no choice. But I will exact some kind of payment from you for this. And I will not conceal from you that I despise you sorely for forcing this returning upon me.”
“Despise me all you like, good friend,” said I, for I saw that he was a coward, and this was all bluster and bravado, and that he was compelled to yield to me. “But at least no curses will be brought down upon my ship for your sake, while I am at sea.”
He drew himself up tall, which was not very tall, and put his nose near mine, and said, “I give not the smallest part of a cruzeiro for your fear of curses. I think that is woman-folly, to fret over the vengeance of blackamoor-ape spirits. And so far as the matter of respect for the dead is concerned, why, I have no respect for these monkeys living, so why should I respect the dead ones? But there is this to reflect upon, that your fear of witchcraft is so great you cannot be dissuaded from running to Faleiro with your tale, and if you do that, it will go badly for me. So I could kill you where you stand, or I must return what I have rightfully acquired by my courage and skill. I should kill you, in good sooth. But I think I will not do it. I will take back the treasure.”
“I will accompany you,” I said.
He glared fire at me then. “Is not my word sufficient?”
“It is a dangerous thing, slipping into that holy place. I will go with you, and stand watch for you, while you restore what you have taken.”
I thought then he would indeed make an attempt on me; and I saw his fingers quivering, as though to go to his dagger. I was ready for him. I think he knew that. So although his hatred for me did smoulder and reach almost to the flashing point, yet did he subdue his wrath, which was most wise of him. Together we went to his quarters, where he had secreted in an oaken chest an astonishing array of marvels, all manner of precious gems and little splendid carvings of ivory and the like. Most sullenly did he gather these things, and in my company he took them back to the graveyard, and would have dumped them without ceremony on the open ground, but that I urged him most menacingly to put them below the earth. Which he did; and I think even then he toyed with the idea of murdering me in this lonely place ringed by vast elephanto teeth, but that he was too craven to make the venture. Give him five or six bravos, and surely he would have had them hold me while he slit my gut. But he would not face me alone, and wise of him, aye.
So I had earned his double enmity, both that I was a mere crude Englishman, and that I had compelled him to give up his purloined treasure. I cared nothing for that. One does not go to sea with a man who has called down upon himself the wrath of the invisible world. Those sailors who took the prophet Jonas onto their ship in ancient times, when Jonas had been disobedient unto the Lord, found themselves in the midst of a tempest, that did not subside until they cast forth Jonas into the sea; and so, too, in this instance was I certain that Caldeira de Rodrigues’ plunder of the dead would cause us all to suffer. Therefore had I risked the loathing of that shoddy and shameless young man, for it affrighted me far less than the anger of the unknown deities of this place.
As we took our leave of Loango the city was hectic with concern, and barely saw us go. The four albino ndundus of the king were mounted in a high station to chant prayers, and various witch-women went about making sacrifices to the powerful mokissos of the nation, and so on, just as the cathedrals of Europe must keep busy when an onslaught of the Turks is predicted. Everywhere it was incense and bonfires and drums and pipes and chanting, with somber-faced Loangan soldiers striding up and down drilling with their weapons, and so on and on, everyone active in the preparations for defense against the imagined attack of the on-rushing anthropophagi.
Thus we left Loango with our rich cargo of goods and sailed back toward São Paulo de Loanda. Which had been a very fine voyage for me, and exceeding instructive in the ways of that foreign land.
THREE
WE STARTED us southward in high good spirits, for our hold was full and the profit would be great, and there was not one of us but yearned to be in the capital city again. But though I had gone myself to the graveyard with Tristão Caldeira de Rodrigues to make him undo his impiety, yet did it soon become clear that we still had a reckoning of the most heavy sort to pay for his crime, and that our sturdy little ship was indeed now accursed.
The wind was good, if strong sometimes beyond our needs, and the sky was fair as we made our way down the coast. But we were still some distance north of the mouth of the Zaire when we had an omen of an ill-fated journey, for at the noon hour one day we came across a fish, and no one knew what fish it might be. It was like a whale of no great bigness, somber-looking and evil-countenanced, that frightened away all the other fish that traveled with the ship. It stayed with us all day, and the next it was still there, and it left us not at all, but stayed in front of the vessel throwing up great spurts of water, and peering at us from its small baleful eyes.
Then a dry sour wind did come from the south, very hard, like water rushing down a gulley, or like a river of air coursing fierce through the air. This wind made us all most impatient with one another, as though it excited a morbid action in our veins. And then there were flashes of lightning above us, but no rain, only a greater and greater dryness.
The Portugals were all much alarmed by that, as was I, for we had only rarely seen lightning without rain, and always it was a boding of nothing fortunate. The air was now so hot and parched that one felt as if one could strike blue sparks by the snapping of the fingers, and that if one were to turn too quickly into the wind, one’s clothes would burst into flame.
Faleiro came to me and said, “We must be prepared to strike sail quickly, for this wind could become evil.”
“Aye,” I said. “If it shifts to westerly, I would fear it, and I pray it does not.”
We were vigilant; and still the wind came out of the south, hotter and harder, standing us stock-still in our track. We were well out to sea now, with the coast only a thin faint line. There was much praying aboard the Infanta Beatriz, the men dropping to their knees at every slight change in the intensity of the air, and crossing themselves and doing their game with their beads. I also was no stranger to prayer at that time, and I saw even the vile Tristão Caldeira de Rodrigues at his devotions. I looked to him as if to say, “You see? The demons of Loango are searching for the one who did profane the dead!” But he would not meet my gaze at all, and shifted guiltily away. I think he feared I would denounce him to Faleiro, and have him thrown overboard as a Jonas in our midst. In truth the idea did cross my mind. And also it crossed my mind that Rodrigues might forestall such a move on my part by slaying me; so I did not sleep all that night, and kept my weapon close beside me in case he came creeping like an assassin.
Another thing that I considered, but only briefly, was that I might be the root and cause of this terrible wind. For was I not carrying a little witchcraft statue that Dona Teresa had made for me, and did I not, from habit, rub it from time to time, which was a kind of veneration? I thought that might have incurred upon me the anger of God, that I should be praying to a heathen deity, and invoking a lust-charm. Once again, as I stood by the rail of the ship, I contemplated throwing my little Teresa-mokisso into the water, to spare us from the menace of the sea. But I could not do it. The thing was precious for having come from her hand, and summoned to my mind all the passionate hours we had spent entwined in one another’s arms. To cast it overboard was to cast Dona Teresa overboard: I could not. She held me in her unbreakable grasp.
And had I not already made voyages with this idol by my side, and
were we wrecked then? If I were to be punished for idolatry, surely it would long since have happened. So I kept the carving by me, and prayed that I was not thereby taking upon myself the guilt for the death of others.
And the wind rose and rose and rose, and the air grew yet more dry and hot, and then befell what we had all feared, for it shifted and blew out of the west, and drove us willy-nilly across a wild and lurching sea toward the unknown coast. In this violent veering our sails bellied out like the cheeks of Boreas, so that we thought the fabric might not hold, and began to lower them. But before we could, the strong wind ripped the mainsail off its yard. When we saw that we had lost our sail, we all ran to take in the foresail, before it be stripped also. Now the waves which bore down from the west and those which mounted up in the east so swamped us that each time she rocked we thought the ship was going to the bottom; but yet we preferred to risk the waves striking the ship athwart to being left without any sails.
God’s blood! How we toiled!
We had not quite finished lowering the foresail when the sea did strike the Infanta Beatriz athwart. At the same instant three waves broke over her, so huge that the lurches she gave burst the rigging and the mast beams on the larboard side.
“Cut down the mast!” Faleiro cried.
His words were all but lost in the wind, but no matter: we each of knew what had to be done. We found our axes and set to work felling the mainmast, when it broke away above the rings of the fiddle-blocks, as if we had felled it with one stroke, and the wind threw it into the sea to starboard, as if it were something very light, together with the top and the shrouds. Then we cut the rigging and the shrouds on the other side, and everything fell into the sea.