Lord of Darkness

  In that tropic land the night falls swiftly once the sun goes away, and if there is no moon the darkness is absolute, owing to the thickness of the jungle vapors and the heaviness of the twined vines that tangle with one another through the tops of the trees. This was a night of no moon; and in the second hour of darkness we rose from our huts and went out from the compound surrounding the fort. We aroused no suspicion among the guards because we did go a few men at a time, and also because that they were lulled by the heat and sluggishness of the place, that in time can turn even the most vigilant of men into an imbecile and dullard.

  Through the moist and fevered glades of that close-walled jungle we went one by one until we were at the little quay beside the river. There I found that Cristovão and another Gypsy had overcome the sentinel of the canoes. Simão, one of the Portugals, did take from his sleeve a blade, and make ready to thrust it into the man’s belly, but quickly was he stopped by Cristovão, who seized his wrist most forcibly.

  “Nay,” he whispered, “be not a fool! If we slay him, and then we are retaken, what will become of us?”

  I had my doubts of that, thinking it mattered little, for if we were retaken it would go hard with us whether we had this sentinel’s blood upon our souls or no. Yet never have I favored slaying the innocent, and this man had done me no wrong. So I gave my agreement, and instead of killing him we did tie him with ropes of living vine pulled down from the trees, and stuffed into his mouth a thick wad of herbage to silence him.

  Then we selected the best of the canoes, that was long and trim and stood like a proud lordling above the water. Aboard it we stowed our muskets and powder and shot and a little supply of the golden wheat called masa mamputo, which is Guinea wheat or more accurately American maize, that was the only food we were able to obtain as we departed.

  “Go, Piloto,” said Cristovão. “Get you to the bow, and guide us, and I will stand in the stern.”

  We twelve escapers then did clamber into the canoe, I taking my place fore, and each of us wielding an oar as we pushed ourselves free and set off down the black and swiftly coursing river in the dead of the night.

  TWO

  FREE MEN!

  That morning slaves, and by night we were our own masters on a voyage of departure!

  In silence we did glide on the Kwanza’s dark breast. Along both sides of the river the trees rose like towering palisados, and animals of the night cried out their terrible howls. With sharp dedication did we keep ourselves to the center channel, lest we crack ourselves against the shore. Sometimes in the night we saw red eyes gleaming, or yellow ones, along the margin of the river: hippopotamuses, or coccodrillos, or perchance some monster even worse. One of the Portugals, a certain Pero, began to tell a story of a journey by canoe he had had on the Mbengu in the campaign of Don João de Mendoça, saying, “It was like this, by night, and the river much narrower, and as we paddled east we were halted by an eddy in the current, and then there rose beneath us a river-horse as big as an elephanto, that overthrew our craft entirely, and scattered us in the water.”

  “Be quiet,” said the Gypsy Duarte Lagosta, “or we will feed you to the coccodrillos. We need no such gloomy tales to dishearten us here.”

  “I meant only to tell you how we escaped, when—”

  “Tell us after we are overthrown,” said Duarte Lagosta, and the Portugal was silent.

  I brooded little about meeting a river-horse in the night, but gave much more thought about fetching up into some one of the muddy isles that dot the river. For that could easily happen, and if we were beached we would be coccodrillo-meat before we could get ourselves afloat. Many times had I navigated this river, but never at night, and not in six years; yet I strained at my memories of it, contriving to recollect from the curves and swerves of it the places where the islands lay. Perhaps I did overlook a few, but yet we did not go aground. And as dawn began to creep into the sky above the treetops we found ourselves in a better part of the river, that I knew to be the territory of a little lord styled Mani Kabech, that has a territory in the province of Lamba, which is subject to Portugal.

  Morning showed us a heavy sultry world of huge trees, palms and cedars and ironwood, and most especially the great bulging ollicondis, that are like houses in themselves, all spongy within, with trunks that hold rainwater, from which birds do drink. All of this was woven together like a tapestry by the festoons and drapings of the gigantic green creepers, thick as the greatest of serpents, overhead. Though it was daytime the forest was dark—O! it was dark dark dark!—and that was a good thing, for we had had more than our necessary share of sun in the Masanganu labor, and this was a kind coolness to us.

  Here we went on shore with our twelve muskets, powder, and shot. We sunk our canoes, because they should not know where we had gone on shore. We made a little fire in the wood, and scorched our Guinea wheat, to relieve our hunger. Later we gathered some honey from the crotch of a great tree, where bees did fly about. And a Gypsy showed us which palm-trees were good to eat, by felling the slender young ones and biting out the pale tender succulent shoots that came from the heart of them.

  All morning we rested here and ate, and talked of our plans. Since that we had had no sleep on the night of our escape, we took it now, some of us closing our eyes and some standing watch. Our vigilance was addressed more against deadly beasts of the jungle than against Portugals, for we did not think we would be pursued as far as this point.

  As soon as it was dark, we took up our journey again, and marched all that night through the most difficult of thick enforestation, taking what we hoped to be a direction of north-north-west. In this everyone turned to me for counsel, I being regarded as a skilled navigator, and in every opening of the vines I did study the pattern of the stars and draw my sage advice, so it seemed, from the array of the constellations. But also I took good care to note the position of the river, that was far more useful, for it was flowing along on our left hand a short way below us and was a present guide to our way.

  But then the river diverged from us, which could not be helped, for our goal was the kingdom of the Kongo in the north, and the Kwanza, if we followed it, would bring us to the sea some leagues south of São Paulo de Loanda, a city we did not dare approach. So now I did navigate by guesswork alone, and by bluff, doing my best. It is far much easier to find one’s way on the open sea betimes, for all its dearth of landmarks, than it is when one is in a jungle where every tree does look the image of his brother, and giveth one false information, which is worse than none at all.

  Our second day was a grievous one, for the land grew very much more dry as we entered a great plain, and there was no water anywhere. It seemed sure that in a country so moist and lavish there would be ample springs and brooks for us, but there was not a drop, and the sun’s heat did punish us cruelly, drawing the moisture up out of our bodies and making us grow dizzy.

  Gonçalo Fernandes, that was a Portugal who had been shipwrecked on the other coast of Africa some time before, now told us a pretty story, saying, “I was cast upon a desert island, and in all this island we could not find any fresh water in the world, insomuch that we were driven to drink our own urine.”

  “And do you suggest that of us now?” asked my Gypsy friend Cristovão, making a sour face like unto an old prune that has been left in the sun a dozen year.

  Gonçalo Fernandes replied, “You see me here before you not dead of thirst, and there is your answer.”

  “It is a very hard extreme, though,” said Duarte Lagosta.

  “That other time,” said Gonçalo Fernandes, “we saved the urine in sherds of certain jars, which we had out of our pinnace, and set it all night to cool therein, to drink it the next morning. And I tell you by God’s Mother that this sustained us. The urine we voided became exceeding red, I think because it was the same water constantly passing in and out of our bodies. But we did not die. And I tell you another thing, that when we found a way to get over to the mainland, we came upon a little r
iver of very sweet and pleasant water, and my companion Antonio overdrank himself, being pinched before with extreme thirst, and within half an hour he died in my presence. So we must remember to be sparing when water comes to us again.”

  Well, and we drank no urine that day, but we suffered mightily of thirst. I think had we had any drinking-vessels with us in which to retain the stuff, we would have overcome our niceness on that score. But we did not. We pressed onward, thinking to find ollicondi trees and suck the moistness therefrom, but these trees were not native on this plain. And after a day of such travel we were dizzied and unhealthful, all but one or two of the Gypsies, who seemed of such strength that they needed neither food nor water. That night we were not able to go, and were fain to dig and scrape up roots of little trees, and suck them to maintain life, as I had done that other time of my shipwreck.

  The third day we met with one of those great serpents that do inhabit these parts, this being as long as five men stretched head to toe, and as thick through as the thigh of a very stout man. The monster was sleeping and I think had lately eaten, for its middle was a bulging place that was swollen as big as a pig or a goat. We talked of killing it for its meat, but the Portugals among us were loath to eat serpent-flesh, and one of the Gypsies swore that if we angered it, the creature would breathe flame upon us and destroy us; and this argument became so impassioned that in the end, hungry as we were, we let the serpent be, and walked far around it, and continued on our way. Which led to further dispute, some saying they would rather eat serpent than starve, and others preferring starvation: and we did consume much effort in noisy parley of this kind.

  But later that day we encountered an old Negro who was traveling to the town where Mani Kabech has his capital. It gave us great surprise to see any man in this forlorn place. This man was wizened and ancient, but strong, and when he saw us he at once began to run. Two of our Gypsies, being most fleet of foot, gave chase and brought him to the ground, but he struggled so keenly fierce with them that it was an amazement, he being white-haired and his skin withered by age, hanging in dry folds. When he was subdued we took from him his waist-cloth of sturdy palm fiber and bound his hands behind him, and I spoke with him, telling him in Kikongo words I had learned from Matamba that we meant no harm, if he would help us.

  He looked at me most gloomily, as though I would sell him tomorrow into slavery.

  “Nay,” I said, “we are no slavers, and we love the Portugal government no more than you.”

  Mamputo is what I said for “Portugal,” that being the native word for that nation, and I did pantomime my disdain by saying the word and spitting, and the like. The Portugals among us were displeased by this, but I made them hold their tongues.

  With great patience I explained to the old man that we were fleeing our enemies, the Mamputo folk, and hoped to take refuge in the land of Kongo, and needed him to lead us to the lake of Kasanza, which we knew to be in that direction and where we could refresh ourselves. He understood my meaning and pledged himself to do that for us. One of the Portugals asked me to tell him that if he worked any treachery he would die a terrible death, but I allowed the old man enough wisdom to comprehend that without my saying it to him.

  This Lake Kasanza was well known to some of those with whom I journeyed. It is eight miles across, and issues into the River Mbengu. It doth abound with fish of sundry sorts, and on its shore lives the greatest store of wild beasts that is in any place of Angola. So there we thought we might provide for ourselves as we undertook the continuance of our march into the land of Kongo.

  The old man did not betray us. Traveling all that day in this extreme hot country we came to the town called Kasanza, which is near to the lake. As we neared it we crossed a small river that runs out of the lake, which was the first water that we had seen in a very long while. But the old man cried out as we ran to drink from it, saying in his tongue that the river gave bad water; and, having faith in him, I warned my companions not to take any. This was difficult for them to forego, but when we came to the edge of the water it was easier, the river being so shallow it was near dry, and the water being black and foul, with a thick scum or crust over it, and flies so numerous they were like a curtain that buzzed.

  So we went onward unslaked, and a little while after came to Kasanza town. Here we were only twelve leagues east of São Paulo de Loanda. It was but another two or three miles from the town to the lake, but some of our people did not have the strength to proceed any further owing to thirst. Therefore we released our old blackamoor and went into the town to seek aid.

  This town was one of those subjugated by Don João de Mendoça in his military expedition through the valley of the Mbengu, and we feared there might be a Portugal garrison here. But there was none, only a population of Negroes, that greeted us very coolly, and when we asked for water they fled into their houses and would not come out, and gave us nothing to drink.

  “Let us torch the place,” said that Portugal Simão who had wanted to slay the sentinel of the canoes, and who vaunted himself for bravery and resource, but to me was not much other than a common criminal.

  “Aye,” said Gonçalo Fernandes, who had once survived by drinking urine. “If they defy us, let us burn them like rats in a stack of hay.”

  “It is not the wisest way,” I replied. “We can frighten them in easier style.”

  And I did array our party in a military fashion, and we aimed our muskets into the houses, and fired very sparingly but in a regular way, shooting into this house and that and that according to what must seem like a pattern of attack. This drove the people into the open, making gestures of surrender, and their lord the Mani Kasanza now came to us with fair speeches, inviting us to stay the night in his village, and saying we could have water.

  So that night we slept under a roof again. But it was not a restful night nor a merry one, except that it is possible to see merriment in a discomfort so extreme that it takes on a character of absurdity.

  This is what befell. They gave us for sleeping, one of their largest palaces, which of course was no palace but only a building of brush and straw and plastered mud, but it had many rooms. When we had eaten and had our fill to drink, we took to our chambers gladly, and quickly our joy was dissipated. My bed was against the wall, which was of fat clay ill put together, and might well be called a nest of rats; for there were so many of them and so large, that they troubled me very much, running over me and biting my toes. To prevent this I caused my bed to be laid in the middle of the room, but to no purpose, for those cursed creatures knew where to find me. The others had the same difficulty, and when an hour had passed thus plagued by the rats, Cristovão and I went to the dwelling of the Mani Kasanza, to protest the place we had been given.

  He was not at all surprised at our complaint, but said he would provide us with an infallible remedy against it. This was a little monkey that would secure me against the rats by blowing on them when he spied them, and by giving off a kind of musky perfume that the rats found displeasing. We took this small agile creature to our house, and indeed it did its duty; for he was quite tame, and picked through my hair and beard for hidden creatures, which he devoured, and after doing me this service did lay down at the foot of my bed. When the rats came as they were wont, the monkey blew hard at them two or three times, and made them run away; and then he went on into the other rooms and did the same for my companions.

  Thus I had perhaps two hours of sleep without interruption, which my body sorely needed after my long march across the hot land. But just as I was sinking into the true depths of my slumber, that is the most nourishing part of the night, several blacks did rush helter-skelter into the chamber, crying, “Out! Out! The ants are broke out, and there is no time to be lost!”

  I was fuddled with weariness and scarce understood what they were saying, so without waiting for me to stir, they lifted me upon my straw bed and did carry bed and me together out of the building. The same was occurring to the others of my party, and
we gathered outside, now thoroughly awake. The nimbleness of the blacks stood me in good stead, for the ants had already begun to run upon my legs, and get to my body, and bit in like prickling needles. A certain Portugal named Vaz Martin, much agitated by the sight of them, said, “We should give God thanks that we were delivered from these pismires, for they are most deadly.” And he told me how this thing often happens in the kingdom of Angola, that men are taken in their sleep and unable to stir and are eaten up alive by them, and also cows are found devoured in the night by these ants, and nothing left of them but the bones. It is no small deliverance to escape the troublous insects, for there are some that fly, and are hard to be removed from the place where they lay hold: but God be praised that my body was not devoured by them alive.

  To rid the village of the small attackers the blacks took straw, and fired it on the floor of the four rooms, where the ants were marching already above half a foot thick. But while this was being done the fire took hold of the thatch of the house, and fearing the fire might increase with the wind, we drew back to a further distance. And also the pismires broke into a neighboring cottage, where again the blacks did burn them; but the hut being all of straw, it was consumed as well as the ants, which made the blacks get out of their houses for fear the wind should carry the flame about and burn all that quarter. This may all sound amusing in the telling of it long after, but I assure you we found that comedy of rats and monkey and ants and fire to be no cheering comedy at all, but rather exceeding somber. We were without sleep that night once all this commenced, and before dawn we departed, more weary than we had come, and hied ourselves off to the shores of the lake of Kasanza.