Black Ivory

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

  TELLS OF SAD SIGHTS, AND SUDDEN EVENTS, AND UNEXPECTED MEETINGS.

  In the course of time, our hero, Harold Seadrift, and his faithful ally,Disco Lillihammer, after innumerable adventures which we are unwillinglyobliged to pass over in silence, returned to the coast and, in thecourse of their wanderings in search of a vessel which should conveythem to Zanzibar, found themselves at last in the town of GovernorLetotti. Being English travellers, they were received as guests by theGovernor, and Harold was introduced to Senhorina Maraquita.

  Passing through the market-place one day, they observed a crowd roundthe flag-staff in the centre of the square, and, following theirresistible tendency of human nature in such circumstances, ran to seewhat was going on.

  They found that a slave was about to be publicly whipped by soldiers.The unhappy man was suspended by the wrists from the flag-staff, and asingle cord of coir round his waist afforded him additional support.

  "Come away, we can do no good here," said Harold, in a low, sorrowfultone, which was drowned in the shriek of the victim, as the first lashfell on his naked shoulders.

  "Pra'ps he's a criminal," suggested Disco, as he hurried away,endeavouring to comfort himself with the thought that the man probablydeserved punishment. "It's not the whippin' I think so much of," headded; "that is the only thing as will do for some characters, but it'sthe awful cruelties that goes along with it."

  Returning through the same square about an hour later, having almostforgotten about the slave by that time, they were horrified to observethat the wretched man was still hanging there.

  Hastening towards him, they found that he was gasping for breath. Hisveins were bursting, and his flesh was deeply lacerated by the cordswith which he was suspended. He turned his head as the Englishmenapproached, and spoke a few words which they did not understand; but theappealing look of his bloodshot eyes spoke a language that required nointerpreter.

  At an earlier period in their career in Africa, both Harold and Discowould have acted on their first impulse, and cut the man down; butexperience had taught them that this style of interference, while it puttheir own lives in jeopardy, had sometimes the effect of increasing thepunishment and sufferings of those whom they sought to befriend.

  Acting on a wiser plan, they resolved to appeal to Governor Letotti inhis behalf. They therefore ran to his residence, where Maraquita, whoconversed with Harold in French, informed them that her father was inthe "Geresa," or public palaver house. To that building they hastened,and found that it was in the very square they had left. But SenhorLetotti was not there. He had observed the Englishmen coming, and,having a shrewd guess what their errand was, had disappeared and hidhimself. His chief-officer informed them that he had left the townearly in the morning, and would not return till the afternoon.

  Harold felt quite sure that this was a falsehood, but of course wasobliged to accept it as truth.

  "Is there no one to act for the Governor in his absence?" he asked,anxiously.

  No, there was no one; but after a few minutes the chief-officer appearedto be overcome by Harold's earnest entreaties, and said that he couldtake upon himself to act, that he would suspend the punishment till theGovernor's return, when Harold might prefer his petition to him inperson.

  Accordingly, the slave was taken down. In the afternoon Harold saw theGovernor, and explained that he did not wish to interfere with hisprovince as a magistrate, but that what he had witnessed was so shockingthat he availed himself of his privilege as a guest to pray that theman's punishment might be mitigated.

  Governor Letotti's health had failed him of late, and he had sufferedsome severe disappointments in money matters, so that his wontedamiability had been considerably reduced. He objected, at first, tointerfere with the course of justice; but finally gave a reluctantconsent, and the man was pardoned. Afterwards, however, when ourtravellers were absent from the town for a day, the wretched slave wasagain tied up, and the full amount of his punishment inflicted; in otherwords, he was flogged to death. [For the incident on which this isfounded we are indebted to the Reverend Doctor Ryan, late Bishop of theMauritius.]

  This incident had such an effect on the mind of Harold, that he resolvedno longer to accept the hospitality of Governor Letotti. He had somedifficulty, however, in persuading himself to carry his resolve intoeffect, for the Governor, although harsh in his dealing with the slave,had been exceedingly kind and amiable to himself; but an unexpectedevent occurred which put an end to his difficulties. This was theillness and sudden death of his host.

  Poor, disconsolate Maraquita, in the first passion of her grief, fled tothe residence of the only female friend she had in the town, and refusedfirmly to return home. Thus it came to pass that Harold's intercoursewith the Senhorina was cut short at its commencement, and thus he missedthe opportunity of learning something of the fortunes of Azinte; for itis certain that, if they had conversed much together, as would probablyhave been the case had her father lived, some mention of theslave-girl's name could not fail to have been made, and their mutualknowledge of her to have been elicited and interchanged.

  In those days there was no regular communication between one point andanother of the east coast of Africa and the neighbouring islands.Travellers had frequently to wait long for a chance; and when they gotone were often glad to take advantage of it without being fastidious asto its character. Soon after the events above narrated, a small tradingschooner touched at the port. It was bound for the Seychelles,intending to return by Zanzibar and Madagascar, and proceed to the Cape.Harold would rather have gone direct to Zanzibar, but, having plenty oftime on his hands, as well as means, he was content to avail himself ofthe opportunity, and took passage in the schooner for himself, Disco,and Jumbo. That sable and faithful friend was the only one of hiscompanions who was willing to follow him anywhere on the face of theearth. The others received their pay and their discharge with smilingfaces, and scattered to their several homes--Antonio departing tocomplete his interrupted honeymoon.

  Just before leaving, Harold sought and obtained permission to visitMaraquita, to bid her good-bye. The poor child was terribly overwhelmedby the death of her father, and could not speak of him without givingway to passionate grief. She told Harold that she meant to leave thecoast by the first opportunity that should offer, and proceed to theCape of Good Hope, where, in some part of the interior, lived an oldaunt, the only relative she now had on earth, who, she knew, would beglad to receive her. Our hero did his best to comfort the poor girl,and expressed deep sympathy with her, but felt that his power to consolewas very small indeed. After a brief interview he bade her farewell.

  The voyage which our travellers now commenced was likely to be ofconsiderable duration, for the Seychelles Islands lie a long way to theeastward of Africa, but as we have said, time was of no importance toHarold, and he was not sorry to have an opportunity of visiting a groupof islands which are of some celebrity in connexion with the EastAfrican slave-trade. Thus, all unknown to himself or Disco, as well asto Maraquita, who would have been intensely interested had she known thefact, he was led towards the new abode of our sable heroine Azinte.

  But alas! for Kambira and Obo,--they were being conveyed, also, ofcourse, unknown to themselves or to any one else, further and furtheraway from one whom they would have given their heart's blood to meetwith and embrace, and it seemed as if there were not a chance of anygleam of light bridging over the ever widening gulf that lay betweenthem, for although Lieutenant Lindsay knew that Azinte had been left atthe Seychelles, he had not the remotest idea that Kambira was Azinte'shusband, and among several hundreds of freed slaves the secondlieutenant of the `Firefly' was not likely to single out, and holdconverse with a chief whose language he did not understand, and who, asfar as appearances went, was almost as miserable, sickly, and degradedas were the rest of the unhappy beings by whom he was surrounded.

  Providence, however, turned the tide of affairs in favour of Kamb
ira andhis son. On reaching Zanzibar Captain Romer had learned from thecommander of another cruiser that Aden was at that time somewhatoverwhelmed with freed slaves, a considerable number of captures havingbeen recently made about the neighbourhood of that great rendezvous ofslavers, the island of Socotra.

  The captain therefore changed his mind, and once more very unwillinglydirected his course towards the distant Seychelles.

  On the way thither many of the poor negroes died, but many began torecover strength under the influence of kind treatment and generousdiet. Among these latter was Kambira. His erect gait and manly looksoon began to return, and his ribs, so to speak, to disappear. It wasotherwise with poor Obo. The severity of the treatment to which he hadbeen exposed was almost too much for so young a frame. He lost appetiteand slowly declined, notwithstanding the doctor's utmost care.

  This state of things continuing until the `Firefly' arrived at theSeychelles, Obo was at once conveyed to the hospital which we havereferred to as having been established there.

  Azinte chanced to be absent in the neighbouring town on some errandconnected with her duties as nurse, when her boy was laid on his bedbeside a number of similar sufferers. It was a sad sight to beholdthese little ones. Out of the original eighty-three children who hadbeen placed there forty-seven had died in three weeks, and the remnantwere still in a pitiable condition. While on their beds of pain,tossing about in their delirium, the minds of these little onesfrequently ran back to their forest homes, and while some, in spirit,laughed and romped once more around their huts, thousands of miles awayon the banks of some African river, others called aloud in theirsufferings for the dearest of all earthly beings to them--their mothers.Some of them also whispered the name of Jesus, for the missionary hadbeen careful to tell them the story of our loving Lord, while tendingtheir poor bodies.

  Obo had fevered slightly, and in the restless half-slumber into which hefell on being put to bed, he, too, called earnestly for his mother. In_his_ case, poor child, the call was not in vain.

  Lieutenant Lindsay and the doctor of the ship, with Kambira, hadaccompanied Obo to the hospital.

  "Now, Lindsay," said the doctor, when the child had been made ascomfortable as circumstances would admit of, "this man must not be lefthere, for he will be useless, and it is of the utmost consequence thatthe child should have some days of absolute repose. What shall we dowith him?"

  "Take him on board again," said Lindsay. "I daresay we shall find himemployment for a short time."

  "If you will allow me to take charge of him," interposed the missionary,who was standing by them at the time, "I can easily find him employmentin the neighbourhood, so that he can come occasionally to see his childwhen we think it safe to allow him."

  "That will be the better plan," said the doctor, "for as long as--"

  A short sharp cry near the door of the room cut the sentence short.

  All eyes were turned in that direction and they beheld Azinte gazingwildly at them, and standing as if transformed to stone.

  The instant Kambira saw his wife he leaped up as if he had received anelectric shock, bounded forward like a panther, uttered a shout that didfull credit to the chief of a warlike African tribe, and seized Azintein his arms.

  No wonder that thirty-six little black heads leaped from thirty-sixlittle white pillows, and displayed all the whites of seventy-two eyesthat were anything but little, when this astonishing scene took place!

  But Kambira quickly recovered himself, and, grasping Azinte by the arm,led her gently towards the bed which had just been occupied, and pointedto the little one that slumbered uneasily there. Strangely enough, justat the moment little Obo again whispered the word "mother."

  Poor Azinte's eyes seemed ready to start from their sockets. Shestretched out her arms and tried to rush towards her child, but Kambiraheld her back.

  "Obo is very sick," he said, "you must touch him tenderly."

  The chief looked into his wife's eyes, saw that she understood him, andlet her go.

  Azinte crept softly to the bed, knelt down beside it and put her arms sosoftly round Obo that she scarcely moved him, yet she gradually drew himtowards her until his head rested on her swelling bosom, and she pressedher lips tenderly upon his brow. It was an old familiar attitude whichseemed to pierce the slumbers of the child with a pleasant reminiscence,and dissipate his malady, for he heaved a deep sigh of contentment andsank into profound repose.

  "Good!" said the doctor, in a low tone, with a significant nod toLindsay, when an interpreter had explained what had been already guessedby all present, that Kambira and Azinte were man and wife; "Obo has abetter chance now of recovery than I had anticipated; for joy goes along way towards effecting a cure. Come, we will leave them together."

  Kambira was naturally anxious to remain, but like all commandingspirits, he had long ago learned that cardinal virtue, "obedience towhom obedience is due." When it was explained to him that it would befor Obo's advantage to be left alone with his mother for a time, hearose, bowed his head, and meekly followed his friends out of the room.

  Exactly one week from that date little Obo had recovered so much of hisformer health that he was permitted to go out into the air, and, a fewdays later, Lieutenant Lindsay resolved to take him, and his father andmother, on board the `Firefly,' by way of a little ploy. In pursuanceof this plan he set off from the hospital in company with Kambira,followed at a short distance by Azinte and Obo.

  Poor Lindsay! his heart was heavy, while he did his best to convey indumb show his congratulations to Kambira, for he saw in this unexpectedre-union an insurmountable difficulty in the way of taking Azinte backto her former mistress--not that he had ever seen the remotest chance ofhis being able to achieve that desirable end before this difficultyarose, but love is at times insanely hopeful, just as at other times--and with equally little reason--it is madly despairing.

  He had just made some complicated signs with hands, mouth, and eyebrows,and had succeeded in rendering himself altogether incomprehensible tohis sable companion, when, on rounding a turn of the path that led tothe harbour, he found himself suddenly face to face with HaroldSeadrift, Disco Lillihammer, and their follower, Jumbo, all of whom hadlanded from a schooner, which, about an hour before, had cast anchor inthe bay.

  "Mr Lindsay!" "Mr Seadrift!" exclaimed each to the othersimultaneously, for the reader will remember that they had met oncebefore when our heroes were rescued from Yoosoof by the "Firefly."

  "Kambira!" shouted Disco.

  "Azinte!" cried Harold, as our sable heroine came into view.

  "Obo!" roared the stricken mariner.

  Jumbo could only vent his feelings in an appalling yell and an impromptuwar-dance round the party, in which he was joined by Disco, whoperformed a hornpipe with Obo in his arms, to the intense delight ofthat convalescent youngster.

  Thus laughing, questioning, shouting, and dancing, they all effervescedtowards the shore like a band of lunatics just escaped from Bedlam!