A journey to the interior of Africa would be a rural jaunt, were it not so often endangered by the perils of war. The African may fairly be characterized as a shepherd, whose pastoral life is varied by a little agriculture, and the conflicts into which he is seduced, either by family quarrels, or the natural passions of his blood. His country, though uncivilized, is not so absolutely wild as is generally supposed. The gradual extension of Mahometanism throughout the interior is slowly but evidently modifying the Negro. An African Mussulman isstilla warrior, for the dissemination of faith as well as for the gratification of avarice; yet the Prophet’s laws are so much more genial than the precepts of paganism, that, within the last half century, the humanizing influence of the Koran is acknowledged by all who are acquainted with the interior tribes.
But in all the changes that may come over the spirit ofmanin Africa, her magnificent externalnaturewill for ever remain the game. A little labor teems with vast returns. The climate exacts nothing but shade from the sun and shelter from the storm. Its oppressive heat forbids a toilsome industry, and almost enforces indolence as a law. With every want supplied, without the allurements of social rivalry, without the temptations of national ambition or personal pride, what has the African to do in his forest of palm and cocoa,—his grove of orange,pomegranate and fig,—on his mat of comfortable repose, where the fruit stoops to his lips without a struggle for the prize,—save to brood over, or gratify, the electric passions with which his soul seems charged to bursting!
It is an interesting task to travel through a continent filled with such people, whose minds are just beginning, here and there, to emerge from the vilest heathenism, and to glimmer with a faith that bears wrapped in its unfolded leaves, the seeds of a modified civilization.
As I travelled in the “dry season,” I did not encounter many of the discomforts that beset the African wayfarer in periods of rain and tempest. I was not obliged to flounder through lagoons, or swim against the current of perilous rivers. We met their traces almost every day; and, in many places, the soil was worn into parched ravines or the tracks of dried-up torrents. Whatever affliction I experienced arose from the wasting depression of heat. We did not suffer from lack of water or food, for the caravan of theAli-Mamicommanded implicit obedience throughout our journey.
In the six hundred miles I traversed, whilst absent from the coast, my memory, after twenty-six years, leads me, from beginning to end, through an almost continuous forest-path. We struck a trail when we started, and we left it when we came home. It was rare, indeed, to encounter a cross road, except when it led to neighboring villages, water, or cultivated fields. So dense was the forest foliage, that we often walked for hours in shade without a glimpse of the sun. The emerald light that penetrated the wood, bathed every thing it touched with mellow refreshment. But we were repaid for this partial bliss by intense suffering when we came forth from the sanctuary into the bare valleys, the aridbarrancas, and marshysavannasof an open region. There, the red eye of the African sun glared with merciless fervor. Every thing reflected its rays. They struck us like lances from above, from below, from the sides, from the rocks, from the fields, from the stunted herbage, from the bushes. All was glare! Our eyes seemed to simmer in their sockets.Whenever the path followed the channel of a brook, whose dried torrents left bare the scorched and broken rocks, our feet fled from the ravine as from heated iron. Frequently we entered extensiveprairies, covered with blades of sword-grass, tall as our heads, whose jagged edges tore us like saws, though we protected our faces with masks of wattled willows. And yet, after all these discomforts, how often are my dreams haunted by charming pictures of natural scenery that have fastened themselves for ever in my memory!
As the traveller along the coast turns the prow of his canoe through the surf, and crosses the angry bar that guards the mouth of an African river, he suddenly finds himself moving calmly onward between sedgy shores, buried in mangroves. Presently, the scene expands in the unruffled mirror of a deep, majestic stream. Its lofty banks are covered by innumerable varieties of the tallest forest trees, from whoso summits a trailing network of vines and flowers floats down and sweeps the passing current. A stranger who beholds this scenery for the first time is struck by the immense size, the prolific abundance, and gorgeous verdure of every thing. Leaves, large enough for garments, lie piled and motionless in the lazy air: The bamboo and cane shake their slender spears and pennant leaves as the stream ripples among their roots. Beneath the massive trunks of forest trees, the country opens; and, in vistas through the wood, the traveller sees innumerable fields lying fallow in grass, or waving with harvests of rice andcassava, broken by golden clusters of Indian corn. Anon, groups of oranges, lemons, coffee-trees, plantains and bananas, are crossed by the tall stems of cocoas, and arched by the broad and drooping coronals of royal palm. Beyond this, capping the summit of a hill, may be seen the conical huts of natives, bordered by fresh pastures dotted with flocks of sheep and goats, or covered by numbers of the sleekest cattle. As you leave the coast, and shoot round the river-curves of this fragrant wilderness teeming with flowers, vocal with birds, and gay with their radiant plumage, you plunge into the interior, where the rising country slowly expands into hills and mountains.
The forest is varied. Sometimes it is a matted pile of tree vine, and bramble, obscuring every thing, and impervious save with knife and hatchet. At others, it is a Gothic temple. The sward spreads openly for miles on every side, while, from its even surface, the trunks of straight and massive trees rise to a prodigious height, clear from every obstruction, till their gigantic limbs, like the capitals of columns, mingle their foliage in a roof of perpetual verdure.
At length the hills are reached, and the lowland heat is tempered by mountain freshness. The scene that may be beheld from almost any elevation, is always beautiful, and sometimes grand. Forest, of course, prevails; yet, with a glass, and often by the unaided eye, gentle hills, swelling from the wooded landscape, may be seen covered with native huts, whose neighborhood is checkered with patches of sward and cultivation, and inclosed by massive belts of primeval wildness. Such is commonly the westward view; but north and east, as far as vision extends, noble outlines of hill and mountain may be traced against the sky, lapping each other with their mighty folds, until they fade away in the azure horizon.
When a view like this is beheld at morning, in the neighborhood of rivers, a dense mist will be observed lying beneath the spectator in a solid stratum, refracting the light now breaking from the east. Here and there, in this lake of vapor, the tops of hills peer up like green islands in a golden sea. But, ere you have time to let fancy run riot, the “cloud compelling” orb lifts its disc over the mountains, and the fogs of the valley, like ghosts at cock-crow, flit from the dells they have haunted since nightfall. Presently, the sun is out in his terrible splendor. Africa unveils to her master, and the blue sky and green forest blaze and quiver with his beams.
I felt so much the lack of scenery in my narrative, that I thought it well to group in a few pages the African pictures I have given in the last chapter. My story had too much of the bareness of the Greek stage, and I was conscious that landscape, as well as action, was required to mellow the subject and relieve it from tedium. After our dash through the wilderness, let us return to the slow toil of the caravan.
Four days brought us to Tamisso from our last halt. We camped on the copious brook that ran near the town-walls, and while Ali-Ninpha thought proper to compliment the chief, Mohamedoo, by a formal announcement of our arrival, the caravan made ready for reception by copious, butneeded, ablutions of flesh and raiment. The women, especially, were careful in adorning and heightening their charms. Wool was combed to its utmost rigidity; skins were greased till they shone like polished ebony; ankles and arms were restrung with beads; and loins were girded with snowy waist-cloths. Ali-Ninpha knew the pride of his old Mandingo companions, and was satisfied that Mohamedoo would have been mortified had we surprised him within the precincts of his court, squatted, perhaps, on a dirty mat with a female scratching his head! Ali-Ninpha was a prudent gentleman, and knew the difference between the private and public lives of his illustrious countrymen!
In the afternoon our interpreters returned to camp with Mohamedoo’s son, accompanied by a dozen women carrying platters of boiled rice, calabashes filled with delicate sauce, and abundance ofture, or vegetable butter. A beautiful horse was also despatched for my triumphal entry into town.
The food was swallowed with an appetite corresponding to our recent penitential fare; the tents were struck; and the caravan was forthwith advanced towards Tamisso. All the noise we could conveniently make, by way ofmusic, was, of course, duly attempted. Interpreters and guides went ahead, discharging guns. Half a dozen tom-toms were struck with uncommon rapidity and vigor, while the unctuous women set up a chorus of melody that would not have disgraced a band of “Ethiopian Minstrels.”
Half-way to the town our turbulent mob was met by a troop of musicians sent out by the chief to greet us with song and harp. I was quickly surrounded by the singers, who chanted the most fulsome praise of the opulent Mongo, while a court-fool or buffoon insisted on leading my horse, and occasionally wiping my face with his filthy handkerchief!
Presently we reached the gates, thronged by pressing crowds of curious burghers. Men, women, and children, had all come abroad to see the immenseFurtoo, or white man, and appeared as much charmed by the spectacle as if I had been a banished patriot. I was forced to dismount at the low wicket, but here theempressementof my inquisitive hosts became so great, that the “nation’s guest” was forced to pause until some amiable bailiffs modified the amazement of their fellow-citizens by staves and whips.
I lost no time in the lull, while relieved from the mob, to pass onward to “the palace” of Mohamedoo, which, like all royal residences in Africa, consisted of a mud-walled quadrangular inclosure, with a small gate, a large court, and a quantity ofadobehuts, surrounded by shady verandahs. The furniture, mats, and couches were of cane, while wooden platters, brass kettles, and common wash-basins, were spread out in every direction for show and service.
On a coach, covered with several splendid leopard skins, reclined Mohamedoo, awaiting my arrival with as much stateliness as if he had been a scion of civilized royalty. The chief was a man of sixty at least. His corpulent body was covered with short Turkish trousers, and a large Mandingo shirt profusely embroidered with red and yellow worsted. His bald or shaved head was concealed by a light turban, while a long white beard stood out in relief against his tawny skin, and hung down upon his breast. Ali-Ninpha presented me formally to this personage, who got up, shook hands, “snapped fingers,” and welcomed me thrice. My Fullah chief and Mandingo companion then proceeded to “make their dantica,” or declare the purpose of their visit; but when they announced that I was the guest of the Fullah Ali-Mami, and, accordingly, wasentitledto free passage every where without expense, I saw that the countenance of the veteran instantly fell, and that his welcome was dashed by the loss of a heavy duty which he designed exacting for my transit.
The sharp eye of Ali-Ninpha was not slow in detecting Mohamedoo’s displeasure; and, as I had previously prepared him in private, he took an early opportunity to whisper in the old man’s ear, that Don Téodore knew he was compelled to journey through Tamisso, and, of course, had not come empty-handed. My object, he said, in visiting this region and the territory of the Fullah king, was not idle curiosity alone; but that I was prompted by a desire for liberal trade, and especially for the purchase of slaves to load the numerous vessels I had lingering on the coast, with immense cargoes of cloth, muskets, and powder.
The clouds were dispersed as soon as a hint was thrown out about traffic. The old sinner nodded like a mandarin who knew what he was about, and, rising as soon as the adroit whisperer had finished, took me by the hand, and in a loud voice, presented me to the people as his “beloved son!” Besides this, the best house within the royal inclosure was fitted with fresh comforts for my lodging. When the Fullah chief withdrew from the audience, Ali-Ninpha brought in the mistress of Mohamedoo’sharem, who acted as his confidential clerk, and we speedily handed over the six pieces of cotton and an abundant supply of tobacco with which I designed to propitiate her lord and master.
Tired of the dust, crowd, heat, confinement and curiosity of an African town, I was glad to gulp down my supper of broiled chickens and milk, preparatory to a sleepy attack on my couch of rushes spread with mats and skins. Yet, before retiring for the night, I thought it well to refresh my jaded frame by a bath, which the prince had ordered to be prepared in a small court behind my chamber. But I grieve to say, that my modesty was put to a sore trial, when I began to unrobe. Locks and latches are unknown in this free-and-easy region. It had been noised abroad among the dames of the harem, that theFurtoowould probably perform his ablutions before he slept; so that, when I entered the yard, my tub was surrounded by as many inquisitive eyes as the dinner table of Louis the Fourteenth, when sovereigns dined in public. As I could not speak their language, I made all the pantomimic signs of graceful supplication that commonly soften the hearts of the sex on the stage, hoping, by dumb-show, to secure my privacy. But gestures and grimace were unavailing. I then made hold to take off my shirt, leaving my nether garments untouched. Hitherto, the dames had seen only my bronzed face and hands, but when the snowy pallor of my breast and back was unveiled, many of them fled incontinently, shouting to their friends to “come and see thepeeled Furtoo!” An ancient crone, the eldest of the crew, ran her hand roughly across the fairest portion of my bosom, and looking at her fingers with disgust, as if I reeked with leprosy, wiped them on the wall. As displeasure seemed to predominate over admiration, I hoped this experiment would have satisfied the inquest, but, as black curiosity exceeds all others, the wenches continued to linger, chatter, grin and feel, until I was forced to disappoint their anxiety for further disclosures, by an abrupt “good night.”
We tarried in Tamisso three days to recruit, during which I was liberally entertained on the prince’s hospitable mat, where African stews of relishing flavor, and tender fowls smothered in snowy rice, regaled me at least twice in every twenty-four hours.Mohamedoo fed me with an European silver spoon, which, he said, came from among the effects of a traveller who, many years before, died far in the interior. In all his life, he had seen butfourof our race within the walls of Tamisso. Their names escaped his memory; but the last, he declared, was a poor and clever youth, probably from Senegal, who followed a powerful caravan, and “read the Koran like amufti.”
Tamisso was entirely surrounded by a tall double fence of pointed posts. The space betwixt the inclosures, which were about seven feet apart, was thickly planted with smaller spear-headed staves, hardened by fire. If the first fence was leaped by assailants, they met a cruel reception from those impaling sentinels. Three gates afforded admission to different sections of the town, but the passage through them consisted of zig-zags, with loopholes cut judiciously in the angles, so as to command every point of access to the narrow streets of the suburbs.
The parting between Mohamedoo and myself was friendly in the extreme. Provisions for four days were distributed by the prince to the caravan, and he promised that my return should be welcomed by an abundant supply of slaves.
As our caravan approached the Fullah country, and got into the higher lands, where the air was invigorating, I found its pace improved so much that we often exceeded twenty miles in our daily journey. The next important place we were to approach was Jallica. For three days, our path coasted the southern edge of a mountain range, whose declivities and valleys were filled with rivers, brooks, and streamlets, affording abundant irrigation to fields teeming with vegetable wealth. The population was dense. Frequent caravans, with cattle and slaves, passed us on their way to various marts. Our supplies of food were plentiful. A leaf of tobacco purchased a fowl; a charge of powder obtained a basin of milk, or a dozen of eggs; and a large sheep cost only six cents, or a quart of salt.
Five days after quitting Tamisso, our approach to Jallica was announced; and here, as at our last resting-place, it was deemed proper to halt half a day for notice and ablution before entering a city, whose chief—Suphiana—was a kinsman of Ali-Ninpha.
The distance from our encampment to the town was about three miles; but an hour had hardly elapsed after our arrival, when the deep boom of the war-drum gave token that our message had been received with welcome. I was prepared, in some measure, for a display of no ordinary character at Jallica, becausemy Mandingo friend, Ali-Ninpha, inhabited the town in his youth, and had occupied a position which gave importance to his name throughout Soolimana. The worthy fellow had been absent many years from Jallica, and wept like a child when he heard the sound of the war-drum. Its discordant beat had the same effect on the savage that the sound of their village bells has on the spirit of returning wanderers in civilized lands. When the rattle of the drum was over, he told me that for five years he controlled that very instrument in Jallica, during which it had never sounded a retreat or betokened disaster. In peace it was never touched, save for public rejoicing; and the authorities allowed it to be beatennowonly because an old commander of the tribe was to be received with the honors due to his rank and service. Whilst we were still conversing, Suphiana’s lance-bearer made his appearance, and, with a profoundsalaam, announced that the “gates of Jallica were open to the Mandingo and his companions.”
Nofandaor refreshments were sent with the welcome; but when the caravan got within fifty yards of the walls, a band of shouting warriors marched forth, and lifting Ali-Ninpha on their shoulders, bore him through the gates, singing war-songs, accompanied by all sorts of music and hubbub.
I had purposely lingered with my men in the rear of the great body of Africans, so that nearly the whole caravan passed the portal before my complexion—though deeply bronzed by exposure—made me known to the crowd as a white man.
Then, instantly, the air rang with the sound of—“Furtoo! Furtoo! Furtoo!”—and the gate was slammed in our faces, leaving us completely excluded from guide and companions. But, in the midst of his exultant reception, Ali-Ninpha did not forget the Mongo of Kambia. Hardly had he attained the end of the street, when he heard the cry of exclusion, and observed the closing portal. By this time, my Fullah friend had wrought himself into an examplary fit of Oriental rage with the inhospitable Mandingoes, so that I doubt very much whether he would not have knocked the dust from his sandals on the gate of Jallica, had not Ali-Ninpha rushed through the wicket, andcommanding the portal to be reopened, apologized contritely to the Mahometan and myself.
This unfortunate mistake, or accident, not only caused considerable delay, but rather dampened the delight of our party as it defiled in the spacious square of Jallica, and entered the open shed which was called a “palaver-house.” Its vast area was densely packed with a fragrant crowd of old and young, armed with muskets or spears. All wore knives or cutlasses, slung by a belt high up on their necks; while, in their midst surrounded by a court of veterans, stood Suphiana, the prince, waiting our arrival.
In front marched Ali-Ninpha, preceded by a numerous band of shrieking and twanging minstrels. As he entered the apartment, Suphiana arose, drew his sword, and embracing the stranger with his left arm, waved the shining blade over his head, with the other. This peculiaraccoladewas imitated by each member of the royal council; while, in the centre of the square, the war-drum,—a hollowed tree, four feet in diameter, covered with hides,—was beaten by two savages with slung-shot, until its thundering reverberations completely deafened us.
You may imagine my joy and comfort when I saw the Mandingo take a seat near the prince, as a signal for the din’s cessation. This, however, was only the commencement of another prolonged ceremonial; for now began the royal review and salute in honor of the returned commander. During two hours, an uninterrupted procession of all the warriors, chiefs, and head-men of Jallica, defiled in front of the ancient drum-major; and, as each approached, he made his obeisance by pointing a spear or weapon at my landlord’s feet. During this I remained on horseback without notice or relief from the authorities. Ali-Ninpha, however, saw my impatient discomfort, and once or twice despatched a sly message to preserve my good humor. The ceremony was one of absolute compulsion, and could not be avoided without discourtesy to the prince and his countrymen. As soon as he could escape, however, he hastened over the court-yard to assist me in dismounting; and dashing the rude crowd right and left, led me to his kinsman Suphiana. The prince extended hisroyal hand in token of amity; Ali-Ninpha declared me to be his “son;” while the long string of compliments and panegyrics he pronounced upon my personal qualities, moral virtues, andwealth, brought down a roar of grunts by way of applause from the toad-eating courtiers.
Jallica was a fairer town than any I had hitherto encountered in my travels. Its streets were wider, its houses better, its people more civil. No one intruded on the friend of Ali-Ninpha, and guest of Suphiana. I bathed without visits from inquisitive females. My house was my castle; and, when I stirred abroad, two men preceded me with rattans to keep my path clear from women and children.
After lounging about quietly for a couple of days, wearing away fatigue, and getting rid of the stains of travel, I thought it advisable to drop in one morning, unannounced, after breakfast, at Suphiana’s with the presents that are customary in the east. As the guest,—during my whole journey,—of the Ali-Mami, or King of Footha-Yallon, I was entirely exempt by customary law from this species of tax, nor would my Fullah protector have allowed me to offer a tribute had he known it;—yet, I always took a secret opportunity to present avoluntary gift, for I wished my memory to smell sweet along my track in Africa. Suphiana fully appreciated my generosity under the circumstances, and returned the civility by an invitation to dinner at the house of his principal wife. When the savory feast with which he regaled me was over, female singers were introduced for a concert. Their harps were triangles of wood, corded with fibres of cane; their banjoes consisted of gourds covered with skin pierced by holes, and strung like the harps; but, I confess, that I can neither rave nor go into ecstasies over the combined effect which saluted me from such instruments or such voices. I was particularly struck, however, by one of their inventions, which slightly resembles theharmonicaI have seen played by children in this country. A board, about two feet square, was bordered by a light frame at two ends, across which a couple of cane strings were tightly stretched. On these, stripsof nicely trimmed bamboo, gradually diminishing in size from left to right, were placed; whilst beneath them, seven gourds, also gradually decreasing, were securely fastened to mellow the sound. The instrument was carried by a strap round the player’s neck, and was struck by two small wooden hammers softened by some delicate substance.
One of the prettiest girls in the bevy had charge of this African piano, and was said to be renowned for uncommon skill. Her feet, hands, wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees, were strung with small silvery bells; and, as the gay damsel was dancer and singer as well as musician, she seemed to reek with sound from every pore. Many of her attitudes would probably have been, at least, more picturesque and decent for drapery; but, in Jallica,Madoo, theayah, was considered a Mozart in composition, a Lind in melody, and a Taglioni on the “light fantastic toe!”
When the performance closed, Suphiana presented her a slave; and, as she made an obeisance to me in passing, I handed her mybowie-knife, promising to redeem it at my lodgings withten pounds of tobacco!
Some superstitious notions about the state of the moon prevented my Fullah guide from departing as soon as I desired; but while we were dallying with the planet, Ali-Ninpha became so ill that he was compelled to halt and end the journey in his favorite Jallica. I rather suspected the Mandingo to feign more suffering than he really experienced, and I soon discovered that his malady was nothing but a sham. In truth, Ali-Ninpha had duped so many Fullah traders on the beach, and owed them the value of so many slaves, that he found it extremely inconvenient; if not perilous, to enter the domain of theAli-Mami of Footha-Yallon!
A messenger was despatched from Jallica, in advance of our departure, to announce our approach to Timbo. For six days more, our path led over hill and dale, and through charming valleys, fed by gentle streamlets that nourished the vigorous vegetation of a mountain land.
As we crossed the last summits that overlooked the territory of Footha-Yallon, a broadplateau, whence a wide range of country might be beheld, was filled with bands of armed men, afoot and on horseback, while a dozen animals were held in tether by their gayly dressed attendants. I dashed to the head of the caravan on my jaded beast, and reached it just in time to find the sable arms of Ahmah-de-Bellah opening to greet me! The generous youth, surrounded by his friends and escorted by a select corps of soldiers and slaves, had come thus far on the path to offer the prince’s welcome!
I greeted the Mahometan with the fervor of ancient love; and, in a moment, we were all dismounted and on our knees; while, at a signal from the chief, profound silence reigned throughout the troop and caravan. Every eye was turned across the distant plain to the east. An air of profoundest devotion subdued the multitude, and, in a loud chant, Ahmah-de-Bellah, with outstretched arms and upraised face, sang forth a psalm of gratitude to Allah for the safety of his “brother.”
The surprise of this complimentary reception was not only delightful as an evidence of African character among these more civilized tribes of the Mahometan interior, but it gave me an assurance of security and trade, which was very acceptable to one so far within the bowels of the land. We were still a day’s journey from the capital. Ahmah-de-Bellah declared it impossible, with all the diligence we could muster, to reach Timbo without another halt. Nevertheless, as he was extremely solicitous to bring us to our travel’s end, he not only supplied my personal attendants with fresh horses, but ordered carriers from his own guard to charge themselves with the entire luggage of our caravan.
Thus relieved of burden, our party set forth on the path in a brisk trot, and resting after dark for several hours in a village, we entered Timbo unceremoniously before daybreak while its inhabitants were still asleep.
I was immediately conducted to a house specially built for me, surrounded by a high wall to protect my privacy from intrusion. Within, I found a careful duplicate of all the humble comforts in my domicil on the Rio Pongo. Tables, sofas, plates, knives, forks, tumblers, pitchers, basins,—had all been purchased by my friend, and forwarded for this establishment, from other factories without my knowledge; while the centre of the main apartment was decorated with an “American rocking-chair,” which the natives had ingeniously contrived of rattans and bamboo! Such pleasant evidences of refined attention were more remarkable and delicate, because most of the articles are not used by Mahometans. “These, I hope,” said Ahmah-de-Bellah, as he led me to a seat, “will make you comparatively comfortable while you please to dwell with your brother in Timbo. You have no thanks to return, because I have not treated you like anativeMussulman; for you were kind enough to remember all my own little nationalities when I was your guest on the beach.Allahbe praised for your redemption and arrival;—and so, brother, take your rest in peace within the realm of the Ali-Mami, your father!”
I embraced the generous fellow with as much cordiality as ifhe had been a kinsman from the sweet valley of Arno. During his visit to my factory he was particularly charmed with an old dressing-gown I used for my siestas, and when I resolved on this journey, I caused an improved copy of it to be made by one of the most skilful artists on the river. A flashy pattern of calico was duly cut into rather ampler form than is usual among our dandies. This was charmingly lined with sky-blue, and set off at the edges with broad bands of glaring yellow. The effect of the whole, indeed, was calculated to strike an African fancy; so that, when I drew the garment from my luggage, and threw it, together with a fine white ruffled shirt, over the shoulders of “my brother,” I thought the pious Mussulman would have gone wild with delight. He hugged me a dozen times with the gripe of a tiger, and probably would have kissed quite as lustily, had I not deprecated any further ebullitions of bodily gratitude.
A bath erased not only the dust of travel from my limbs, but seemed to extract even the memory of its toils from my bones and muscles. Ahmah-de-Bellah intimated that the Ali-Mami would soon be prepared to receive me without ceremony. The old gentleman was confined by dropsy in his lower extremities, and probably found it uncomfortable to sustain the annoyance of public life except when absolutely necessary. The burden of my entertainment and glorification, therefore, was cast on the shoulders of his younger kinsfolk, for which, I confess, I was proportionally grateful. Accordingly, when I felt perfectly refreshed, I arose from my matted sofa, and dressing for the first time in more than a month in a perfectly clean suit, I donned a snowy shirt, a pair of dashing drills, Parisian pumps, and a Turkishfez, tipped with a copious tassel. Our interpreters were clad in fresh Mandingo dresses adorned with extra embroidery. My body-servant was ordered to appear in a cast-off suit of my own; so that, when I gave one my double-barrelled gun to carry, and armed the others with my pistols, and a glittering regulation-sword,—designed as a gift for the Ali-Mami,—I presented a very respectable and picturesque appearance for a gentleman abroad on his travels in the East. The moment I issued withmy train from the house, a crowd of Fullahs was ready to receive me with exclamations of chattering surprise; still I was not annoyed, as elsewhere, by the unfailing concourse that followed my footsteps or clogged my pathway.
The “palace” of the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon, like all African palaces in this region, was anadobehovel, surrounded by its portico shed, and protected by a wall from the intrusion of the common herd. In front of the dwelling, beneath the shelter of the verandah, on a fleecy pile of sheepskin mats, reclined the veteran, whose swollen and naked feet were undergoing a cooling process from the palm-leaf fans of female slaves. I marched up boldly in front of him with my militarysuite, and, making a profoundsalaam, was presented by Ahmah-de-Bellah as his “white brother.” The Ali at once extended both hands, and, grasping mine, drew me beside him on the sheepskin. Then, looking intently over my face and into the very depth of my eyes, he asked gently with a smile—“what was my name?”
“Ahmah-de-Bellah!” replied I, after the fashion of the country. As I uttered the Mahometan appellation, for which I had exchanged my own with his son at Kambia, the old man, who still held my hands, put one of his arms round my waist, and pressed me still closer to his side;—then, lifting both arms extended to heaven, he repeated several times,—“God is great! God is great! God is great!—and Mahomet is his Prophet!”
This was followed by a grand inquest in regard to myself and history. Who was my father? Who was my mother? How many brothers had I? Were they warriors? Were they “book-men?” Why did I travel so far? What delay would I make in Footha-Yallon? Was my dwelling comfortable? Had I been treated with honor, respect and attention on my journey? And, last of all, the prince sincerely hoped that I would find it convenient to dwell with him during the whole of the “rainy season.”
Several times, in the midst of these interrogations, the patriarch groaned, and I could perceive, from the pain that flitted like a shadow over the nerves and muscles of his face, that hewas suffering severely, and, of course, I cut the interview as short as oriental etiquette would allow. He pressed me once more to his bosom, and speaking to the interpreter, bade him tell his master, the Furtoo, that any thing I fancied in the realm was mine. Slaves, horses, cattle, stuffs,—all were at my disposal. Then, pointing to his son, he said: “Ahmah-de-Bellah, the white man is our guest; his brother will take heed for his wants, and redress every complaint.”
The prince was a man of sixty at least. His stature was noble and commanding, if not absolutely gigantic,—being several inches over six feet,—while his limbs and bulk were in perfect proportion. His oval head, of a rich mahogany color, was quite bald to the temples, and covered by a turban, whose ends depended in twin folds along his cheeks. The contour of his features was remarkably regular, though his lips were rather full, and his nose somewhat flat, yet free from the disgusting depression and cavities of the negro race. His forehead was high and perpendicular, while his mouth glistened with ivory when he spoke or smiled. I had frequent opportunities to talk with the king afterwards, and was always delighted by the affectionate simplicity of his demeanor. As it was the country’s custom to educate the first-born of royalty for the throne, the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon had been brought up almost within the precincts of the mosque. I found the prince, therefore, more of a meditative “book-man” than warrior; while the rest of his family, and especially his younger brothers, had never been exempt from military duties, at home or abroad. Like a good Mussulman, the sovereign was a quiet, temperate gentleman, never indulging in “bitters” or any thing stronger than a drink fermented from certain roots, and sweetened to resemblemead. His intercourse with me was always affable and solicitous for my comfort; nor did he utter half a dozen sentences without interlarding them with fluent quotations from the Koran. Sometimes, in the midst of a pleasant chat in which he was wondering at my curiosity and taste for information about new lands, he would suddenly break off because it was his hour for prayer; at others, he would end the interview quite as unceremoniously,because it was time for ablution. Thus, between praying, washing, eating, sleeping, slave-dealing, and fanning his dropsical feet, the life of the Ali-Mami passed monotonously enough even for an oriental prince; but I doubt not, the same childish routine is still religiously pursued, unless it has pleased Allah to summon the faithful prince to the paradise of “true believers.” I could never make him understand how a ship might be built large enough to hold provisions for a six months’ voyage; and, as to thesea, “it was a mystery that none but God and a white man could solve!”
As I was to breakfast on the day of my arrival at the dwelling of Ahmah-de-Bellah’s mother, after my presentation to the prince her husband, I urged the footsteps of my companion with no little impatience as soon as I got out of the royal hearing. My fast had been rather longer than comfortable, even in obedience to royal etiquette. However, we were soon within the court-yard of her sable ladyship, who, though a dame of fifty at least, persisted in hiding her charms of face and bosom beneath a capacious cloth. Nevertheless, she welcomed me quite tenderly. She called me “Ahmah-de-Bellah-Theodoree,”—and, with her own hands, mixed the dainties on which we were to breakfast while cosily squatted on the mats of her verandah. Our food was simple enough for the most dyspeptic homœopathist. Milk and rice were alternated with bonney-clabber and honey, seasoned by frequent words of hospitable encouragement. The frugal repast was washed down by calabashes of cool water, which were handed round by naked damsels, whose beautiful limbs might have served as models for an artist.
When the meal was finished, I hoped that the day’s ceremonial was over, but, to my dismay, I discovered that the most formal portion of my reception was yet to come.
“We will now hasten,” said Ahmah-de-Bellah, as Isalaamedhis mamma, “to the palaver-ground, where I am sure our chiefs are, by this time, impatient to see you.” Had I been a feeble instead of a robust campaigner, I would not have resisted the intimation, or desired a postponement of the “palaver;” so I “took my brother’s” arm, and, followed by mycortège,proceeded to the interview that was to take place beyond the walls, in an exquisite grove of cotton-wood and tamarind-trees, appropriated to this sort of town-meeting. Here I found a vast assemblage of burghers; and in their midst, squatted on sheepskins, was a select ring ofpatres conscripti, presided by Sulimani-Ali, son of the king, and brother of my companion.
As the Fullah presented me to his warrior-kinsman, he rose with a profound salutation, and taking my hand, led me to a rock, covered with a white napkin,—the seat of honor for an eminent stranger. The moment I was placed, the chiefs sprang up and each one grasped my hand, bidding me welcomethrice. Ahmah-de-Bellah stood patiently beside me until this ceremony was over, and each noble resumed his sheepskin. Then, taking a long cane from the eldest of the group, he stepped forward, saluted the assembly three times, thrice invoked Allah, and introduced me to the chiefs and multitude as his “brother.” I came, he said, to Footha-Yallon on his invitation, and by the express consent of his beloved king and father, and of his beloved elder brother, Sulimani. He hoped, therefore, that every “head-man” present would see the rites of hospitality faithfully exercised to his white brother while he dwelt in Footha. There were many reasons that he could give why this should be done; but he would rest content with stating only three. First of all: I was nearly as good a Mussulman as many Mandingoes, and he knew the fact, becausehe had converted me himself! Secondly: I was entitled to every sort of courtesy from Fullahs, because I was arichtrader from the Rio Pongo. And, thirdly: I had penetrated even to this very heart of Africa to purchase slaves for most liberal prices.
It is the custom in African “palavers,” as well as among African religionists, to give token of assent by a sigh, a groan, a slight exclamation, or a shout, when any thing affecting, agreeable, or touching is uttered by a speaker. Now, when my Fullah brother informed his friends of my arrival, my name, my demand for hospitality, and my wealth, the grunts and groans of the assembly augmented in number and volume as he went on; but when they heard of my design “to purchaseslaves” a climaxwas reached at once, and, as with one voice, they shouted, “May the Lord of heaven be praised!”
I smothered a laugh and strangled a smile as well as I could, when my interpreters expounded the “stump speech” of Ahmah-de-Bellah; and I lost no time in directing them to display the presents which some of my retainers, in the meanwhile, had brought to the grove. They consisted of several packages of blue and white calicoes, ten yards of brilliant scarlet cloth, six kegs of powder, three hundred pounds of tobacco, two strings of amber beads, and six muskets. On a beautiful rug, I set aside the gilded sword anda package of cantharides, designed for the king.
When my arrangement was over, Sulimani took the cane from his brother, and stepping forward, said that the gifts to which he pointed proved the truth of Ahmah-de-Bellah’s words, and that a rich man, indeed, had come to Footha-Yallon. Nay, more;—the rich man wanted slaves! Was I not generous? I was their guest, and owed them no tribute or duties; and yet, had I notvoluntarilylavished my presents upon the chiefs? Next day, his father would personally distribute my offering; but, whilst I dwelt in Footha, a bullock and ten baskets of rice should daily be furnished for my caravan’s support; and, as every chief would partake my bounty, each one should contribute to my comfort.
This speech, like the former, was hailed with grunts; but I could not help noticing that the vote of supplies was not cheered half as lustily as the announcement of mylargesse.
The formalities being over, the inquisitive head-men crowded round the presents with as much eagerness as aspirants for office at a presidential inauguration. The merchandise was inspected, felt, smelled, counted, measured, and set aside. The rug and the sword, being royal gifts, were delicately handled. But when the vials of cantharides were unpacked, and their contents announced, each of the chieftains insisted that his majesty should not monopolize the coveted stimulant. A sharp dispute on the subject arose between the princes and the councillors, so that I was forced to interfere through the interpreters, who could only quiet the rebels by the promise of a dozen additional flasks for their private account.
In the midst of the wrangling, Sulimani and Ahmah ordered their father’s slaves to carry the gifts to the Ali-Mami’s palace; and, taking me between them, we marched, arm in arm, to my domicil. Here I found Abdulmomen-Ali, another son of the king, waiting for his brothers to present him to the Mongo of Kambia. Abdulmomen was introduced as “a learned divine,” and began at once to talk Koran in the mostmufti-like manner. I had made such sorry improvement in Mahometanism since Ahmah-de-Bellah’s departure from the Rio Pongo, that I thought it safest to sit silent, as if under the deepest fervor of Mussulman conviction. I soon found that Abdulmomen, like many more clergymen, was willing enough to do all the preaching, whenever he found an unresisting listener. I put on a look of very intelligent assent and thankfulness to all the arguments and commentaries of my black brother, and in this way I avoided the detection of my ignorance, as many a better man has probably done before me!
Timbo lies on a rolling plain. North of it, a lofty mountain range rises at the distance of ten or fifteen miles, and sweeps eastwardly to the horizon. The landscape, which declines from these slopes to the south, is in many places bare; yet fields of plentiful cultivation, groves of cotton-wood, tamarind and oak, thickets of shrubbery and frequent villages, stud its surface, and impart an air of rural comfort to the picturesque scene.
I soon proposed a gallop with my African kindred over the neighborhood; and, one fine morning, after a plentiful breakfast of stewed fowls, boiled to rags with rice, and seasoned with delicious “palavra sauce,” we cantered off to the distant villages. As we approached the first brook, but before the fringe of screening bushes was passed, our cavalcade drew rein abruptly, while Ahmah-de-Bellah cried out: “Strangers are coming!” A few moments after, as we slowly crossed the stream, I noticed several women crouched in the underwood, having fled from the bath. This warning is universally given, and enforced by law, to guard the modesty of the gentler sex.
In half an hour we reached the first suburban village; but fame had preceded us with my character, and as the settlement was cultivated either by serfs or negroes liable to be made so, we found the houses bare. The poor wretches had learned, onthe day of my reception, that the principal object of my journey was to obtain slaves, and, of course, they imagined that the only object of my foray in their neighborhood, was to seize the gang and bear it abroad in bondage. Accordingly, we tarried only a few minutes in Findo, and dashed off to Furo; but here, too, the blacks had been panic struck, and escaped so hurriedly that they left their pots of rice, vegetables, and meat boiling in their sheds. Furo was absolutely stripped of inhabitants; the veteran chief of the village did not even remain to do the honors for his affrighted brethren. Ahmah-de-Bellah laughed heartily at the terror I inspired; but I confess I could not help feeling sadly mortified when I found my presence shunned as a pestilence.
The native villages through which I passed on this excursion manifested the great comfort in which these Africans live throughout their prolific land, when unassailed by the desolating wars that are kept up for slave-trade. It was the height of the dry season, when every thing was parched by the sun, yet I could trace the outlines of fine plantations, gardens, and rice-fields. Every where I found abundance of peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and cassava; while tasteful fences were garlanded with immense vines and flowers. Fowls, goats, sheep, and oxen, stalked about in innumerable flocks, and from every domicil depended a paper, inscribed with a charm from the Koran to keep off thieves and witches.
My walks through Timbo were promoted by the constant efforts of my entertainers to shield me from intrusive curiosity. Whenever I sallied forth, two townsfolk in authority were sent forward to warn the public that the Furtoo desired to promenade without a mob at his heels. These lusty criers stationed themselves at the corners with an iron triangle, which they rattled to call attention to the king’s command; and, in a short time, the highways were so clear of people, who feared abastinado, that I found my loneliness rather disagreeable than otherwise.Every person I saw, shunned me.When I called the children or little girls,—they fled from me. My reputation as a slaver in the villages, and the fear of a lash in the town, furnished memuch more solitude than is generally agreeable to a sensitive traveller.
Towards nightfall I left my companions, and wrapping myself closely in a Mandingo dress, stole away through bye-ways to a brook which runs by the town-walls. Thither the females resort at sunset to draw water; and, choosing a screened situation, where I would not be easily observed, I watched, for more than an hour, the graceful children, girls, and women of Timbo, as they performed this domestic task of eastern lands.
I was particularly impressed by the general beauty of the sex, who, in many respects, resembled the Moor rather than the negro. Unaware of a stranger’s presence, they came forth as usual in a simple dress which covers their body from waist to knee, and leaves the rest of the figure entirely naked. Group after group gathered together on the brink of the brook in the slanting sunlight and lengthening shadows of the plain. Some rested on their pitchers and water vessels; some chatted, or leaned on each other gracefully, listening to the chat of friends; some stooped to fill their jars; others lifted the brimming vessels to their sisters’ shoulders—while others strode homeward singing, with their charged utensils poised on head or hand. Their slow, stately, swinging movement under the burden, was grace that might be envied on a Spanishpaseo. I do not think the forms of these Fullah girls,—with their complexions of freshest bronze,—are exceeded in symmetry by the women of any other country. There was a slender delicacy of limb, waist, neck, hand, foot, and bosom, which seemed to be the type that moulded every one of them. I saw none of the hanging breast; the flat, expanded nostrils; the swollen lips, and fillet-like foreheads, that characterize the Soosoos and their sisters of the coast. None were deformed, nor were any marked by traces of disease. I may observe, moreover, that the male Fullahs of Timbo are impressed on my memory by a beauty of form, which almost equals that of the women; and, in fact, the only fault I found with them was their minute resemblance to the feminine delicacy of the other sex. They made up, however, in courage what they lacked in form, for their manly spirit has made themrenowned among all the tribes they have so long controlled by distinguished bravery and perseverance.
The patriarchal landscape by the brook, with the Oriental girls over their water-jars, and the lowing cattle in the pastures, brought freshly to my mind many a Bible scene I heard my mother read when I was a boy at home; and I do not know what revolution might have been wrought on my spirit had I not suddenly become critical! A stately dame passed within twenty feet of my thicket, whosecoiffureexcited my mirth so powerfully that I might have been detected as a spy, had not a bitten lip controlled my laughter. Her ladyship belonged, perhaps, to the “upper-ten” of Timbo, whose heads had hitherto been hidden from my eyes by the jealousyashmacksthey constantly wear in a stranger’s presence. In this instance, however, the woman’s head, like that of the younger girls, was uncovered, so that I had a full view of the stately preparation. Her lower limbs were clad in ample folds of blue and white cotton, knotted in an immense mass at the waist, while her long crisp hair had been combed out to its fullest dimensions and spliced with additional wool. The ebony fleece was then separated in strands half an inch in diameter, and plaited all over her skull in a countless number of distinct braids. This quill-like structure was then adorned with amber beads, and copiously anointed with vegetable butter, so that the points gleamed with fire in the setting sunlight, and made her look as if she had donned for a bewitching headdress a porcupine instead of a “bird of paradise.”
My trip to Timbo, I confess, was one of business rather than pleasure or scientific exploration. I did not make a record, at the moment, of my “impressions de voyage,” and never thought that, a quarter of a century afterwards, I would feel disposed to chronicle the journey in a book, as an interestingsouvenirof my early life. Had I supposed that the day would come when I was to turn author, it is likely I might have been more inquisitive; but, being only “a slaver,” I found Ahmah, Sulimani, Abdulmomen, the Ali-Mami, and all the quality and amusementsof Timbo, dull enough,when my object was achieved. Still, while I was there, I thought I might as well see all that was visible. I strolled repeatedly through the town. I became excessively familiar with its narrow streets, low houses, mud walls, cul-de-sacs, and mosques. I saw no fine bazaars, market-places, or shops. The chief wants of life were supplied by peddlers. Platters, jars, and baskets of fruit, vegetables, and meat, were borne around twice or thrice daily. Horsemen dashed about on beautiful steeds towards the fields in the morning, or came home at nightfall at a slower pace.I never saw man or woman bask lazily in the sun.Females were constantly busy over their cotton and spinning wheels when not engaged in household occupations; and often have I seen an elderly dame quietly crouched in her hovel at sunset reading the Koran. Nor are the men of Timbo less thrifty. Their city wall is said to hem in about ten thousand individuals, representing all the social industries. They weave cotton, work in leather, fabricate iron from the bar, engage diligently in agriculture, and, whenever not laboriously employed, devote themselves to reading and writing, of which they are excessively fond.
These are the faint sketches, which, on ransacking my brain, I find resting on its tablets. But I was tired of Timbo; I was perfectly refreshed from my journey; and I was anxious to return to my factory on the beach. Two “moons” only had been originally set apart for the enterprise, and the third was already waxing towards its full. I feared the Ali-Mami was not yet prepared withslavesfor my departure, and I dreaded lest objections might be made if I approached his royal highness with the flat announcement. Accordingly, I schooled my interpreters, and visited that important personage. I made a long speech, as full of compliments and blarney as a Christmas pudding is of plums, and concluded by touching the soft part in African royalty’s heart—slaves!I told the king that a vessel or two, with abundant freights, would be waiting me on the river, and that I must hasten thither with his choicest gangs if he hoped to reap a profit.
The king and the royal family were no doubt excessively grieved to part with the Furtoo Mongo, but they were discreet persons and “listened to reason.” War parties and scouts were forthwith despatched to blockade the paths, while press-gangs made recruits among the villages, and even in Timbo. Sulimani-Ali, himself, sallied forth, before daybreak, with a troop of horse, and at sundown, came back with forty-five splendid fellows, captured in Findo and Furo!
The personal dread of me in the town itself, was augmented. If I had been a Pestilence before, I was Death now! When I took my usual morning walk the children ran from me screaming. Since the arrival of Sulimani with his victims, all who were under the yoke thought their hour of exile had come. The poor regarded me as the devil incarnate. Once or twice, I caught women throwing a handful of dust or ashes towards me, and uttering an invocation from the Koran to avert the demon or save them from his clutches. Their curiosity was merged in terror.My popularity was over!
It was not a little amusing that in the midst of the general dismay, caused by the court of Timbo and myself, my colored brother Ahmah-de-Bellah, and his kinsman Abdulmomen, lost no chance of lecturing me about my soul! We kidnapped the Africans all day and spouted Islamism all night! Our religion, however, was more speculative than practical. It was much more important, they thought, that we should embrace the faith of their peculiar theology, than that we should trouble ourselves about human rights that interfered with profits and pockets. We spared Mahometans and enslavedonly“the heathen;” so that, in fact, we were merely obedient to the behests of Mahomet when we subdued “the infidel!”
This process of proselytism, however, was not altogether successful. As I was already a rather poor Christian, I fear that the Fullah did not succeed in making me a very good Mussulman. Still, I managed to amuse him with the hope of myfutureimprovement in his creed, so that we were very good friends when the Ali-Mami summoned us for a final interview.
The parting of men is seldom a maudlin affair. The king’s relations presented me bullocks, cows, goats, and sheep. His majesty sent me five slaves. Sulimani-Ali offered a splendid white charger. The king’s wife supplied me with an African quilt ingeniously woven of red and yellow threads unravelled from Manchester cottons; while Ahmah-de-Bellah, like a gentleman of taste, despatched for my consolation, the two prettiest handmaidens he could buy or steal in Timbo!
I shall not weary the reader with a narrative of my journey homeward over the track I had followed on my way to Timbo. A grand Mahometan service was performed at my departure, and Ahmah-de-Bellah accompanied me as far as Jallica, whence he was recalled by his father in consequence of a serious family dispute that required his presence. Ali-Ninpha was prepared, in this place, to greet me with a welcome, and a copious supply of gold, wax, ivory, and slaves. At Tamisso, the worthy Mohamedoo had complied with his promise to furnish a similar addition to the caravan; so that when we set out for Kya, our troop was swelled to near a thousand strong, counting men, women, children and ragamuffins.
At Kya I could not help tarrying four days with my jolly friend Ibrahim, who received the tobacco, charged with “bitters,” during my absence, and was delighted to furnish a nourishing drop after my long abstinence. As we approached the coast, another halt was called at a favorable encampment, where Ali-Ninpha divided the caravan in four parts, reserving the best portion of slaves and merchandise for me. The division, before arrival, was absolutely necessary, in order to prevent disputes or disastrous quarrels in regard to the merchantable quality of negroes on the beach.
I hoped to take my people by surprise at Kambia; but when the factory came in sight from the hill-tops back of the settlement,I saw the Spanish flag floating from its summit, and heard the cannon booming forth a welcome to the wanderer. Every thing had been admirably conducted in my absence. The Fullah and my clerk preserved their social relations and the public tranquillity unimpaired. My factory and warehouse were as neat and orderly as when I left them, so that I had nothing to do but go to sleep as if I had made a day’s excursion to a neighboring village.
Within a week I paid for the caravan’s produce, despatched Mami-de-Yong, and made arrangements with the captain of a slaver in the river for the remainder of his merchandise. But the Fullah chief had not left me more than a day or two, when I was surprised by a traveller who dashed into my factory, with a message from Ahmah-de-Bellah at Timbo, whence he had posted in twenty-one days.
Ahmah was in trouble. He had been recalled, as I said, from Jallica by family quarrels. When he reached the paternal mat, he found his sister Beeljie bound hand and foot in prison, with orders for her prompt transportation to my factory as a slave. These were the irrevocable commands of his royal father, and of her half-brother, Sulimani. All his appeals, seconded by those of his mother, were unheeded. She must beshippedfrom the Rio Pongo; and no one could be trusted with the task but the Ali-Mami’s son and friend, the Mongo Téodor!
To resist this dire command, Ahmah charged the messenger to appeal to my heart by our brotherly lovenotto allow the maiden to be sent over sea; but, by force or stratagem, to retain her until he arrived on the beach.
The news amazed me. I knew that African Mahometans never sold their caste or kindred into foreign slavery, unless their crime deserved a penalty severer than death. I reflected a while on the message, because I did not wish to complicate my relations with the leading chiefs of the interior; but, in a few moments, natural sensibility mastered every selfish impulse, and I told the envoy to hasten back on the path of the suffering brother, and assure him I would shield his sister, even at the risk of his kindred’s wrath.
About a week afterwards I was aroused one morning by a runner from a neighboring village over the hill, who stated that a courier reached his town the night before from Sulimani-Ali,—a prince of Timbo,—conducting a Fullah girl, who was to be sold by meimmediatelyto a Spanish slaver. The girl, he said, resisted with all her energy. She refused to walk. For the last four days she had been borne along in a litter. She swore never to “see the ocean;” and threatened to dash her skull against the first rock in her path, if they attempted to carry her further. The stanch refusal embarrassed her Mahometan conductor, inasmuch as his country’s law forbade him to use extraordinary compulsion, or degrade the maiden with a whip.
I saw at once that this delay and hesitation afforded an opportunity to interfere judiciously in behalf of the spirited girl, whose sins or faults were still unknown to me. Accordingly, I imparted the tale to Ali-Ninpha; and, with his consent, despatched a shrewd dame from the Mandingo’sharem, with directions for her conduct to the village. Woman’s tact and woman’s sympathy are the same throughout the world, and the proud ambassadress undertook her task with pleased alacrity. I warned her to be extremely cautious before the myrmidons of Sulimani, but to seize a secret moment when she might win the maiden’s confidence, to inform her that I was the sworn friend of Ahmah-de-Bellah, and would save herif she followed my commands implicitly. She must cease resistance at once. She must come to the river, which was fresh water, and not salt; and she must allow her jailers to fulfil all the orders they received from her tyrannical kinsmen. Muffled in the messenger’s garments, I sent the manuscript Koran of Ahmah-de-Bellah as a token of my truth, and bade the dame assure Beeljie that her brother was already far on his journey to redeem her in Kambia.
The mission was successful, and, early next day, the girl was brought to my factory,with a rope round her neck.
The preliminaries for her purchase were tedious and formal. As her sale was compulsory, there was not much question as to quality or price. Still, I was obliged to promise a multitude of things I did not intend to perform. In order to disgrace thepoor creature as much as possible, her sentence declared she should be “sold for salt,”—the most contemptuous of all African exchanges, and used in the interior for the purchase ofcattlealone.
Poor Beeljie stood naked and trembling before us while these ceremonies were performing. A scowl of indignation flitted like a shadow over her face, as she heard the disgusting commands. Tenderly brought up among the princely brood of Timbo, she was a bright and delicate type of the classes I described at the brook-side. Her limbs and features were stained by the dust of travel, and her expression was clouded with the grief of sensible degradation: still I would have risked more than I did, when I beheld the mute appeal of her face and form, to save her from the doom of Cuban exile.
When the last tub of salt was measured, I cut the rope from Beeljie’s neck, and, throwing over her shoulders a shawl,—in which she instantly shrank with a look of gratitude,—called the female who had borne my cheering message, to take the girl to her house and treat her as the sister of my Fullah brother.
As I expected, this humane command brought the emissary of Sulimani to his feet with a bound. He insisted on the restitution of the woman! He swore I had deceived him; and, in fact, went through a variety of African antics which are not unusual, even among the most civilized of the tribes, when excited to extraordinary passion.
It was my habit, during these outbursts of native ire, to remain perfectly quiet, not only until the explosion was over, but while the smoke was disappearing from the scene. I fastened my eye, therefore, silently, but intensely, on the tiger, following him in all his movements about the apartment, till he sank subdued and panting, on the mat. I then softly told him that this excitement was not only unbecoming a Mahometan gentleman, and fit for a savage alone, but that it was altogether wasted on the present occasion,inasmuch as the girl should be put on board a slaver in his presence. Nevertheless, I continued while the sister of Ahmah was under my roof, her blood must be respected, and she should be treated in every respect as a royal person.
I was quite as curious as the reader may be to know the crime of Beeljie, for, up to that moment, I had not been informed of it. Dismissing the Fullah as speedily as possible, I hastened to Ali-Ninpha’s dwelling and heard the sufferer’s story.
The Mahometan princess, whose age surely did not exceed eighteen, had been promised by the king and her half-brother, Sulimani, to an old relative, who was not only accused of cruelty to his harem’s inmates, but was charged by Mussulmen with the heinous crime of eating “unclean flesh.” The girl, who seemed to be a person of masculine courage and determination, resisted this disposal of her person; but, while her brother Ahmah was away, she was forced from her mother’s arms and given to the filthy dotard.
It is commonly supposed that women are doomed to the basest obedience in oriental lands; yet, it seems there is a Mahometan law,—or, at least, a Fullah custom,—which saves the purity of an unwilling bride. The delivery of Beeljie to her brutal lord kindled the fire of an ardent temper. She furnished the old gentleman with specimens of violence to which his harem had been a stranger, save when the master himself chose to indulge in wrath. In fact, the Fullah damsel—half acting, half in reality—played the virago so finely, that her husband, after exhausting arguments, promises and supplications, sent her back to her kindredwith an insulting message.
It was a sad day when she returned to the paternal roof in Timbo. Her resistance was regarded by the dropsical despot as rebellious disobedience to father and brother; and, as neither authority nor love would induce the outlaw to repent, her barbarous parent condemned her to be “a slave to Christians.”
Her story ended, I consoled the poor maiden with every assurance of protection and comfort; for, now that the excitement of sale and journey was over, her nerves gave way, and she sank on her mat, completely exhausted. I commended her to the safeguard of my landlord and the especial kindness of his women. Esther, too, stole up at night to comfort the sufferer with her fondling tenderness, for she could not speak the Fullah language;—and in a week, I had the damsel in capital condition ready for a daring enterprise that was to seal her fate.
When the Spanish slaver, whose cargo I had just completed, was ready for sea, I begged her captain to aid me in the shipment of “a princess” who had been consigned to my wardship by her royal relations in the interior, but whom I dared not put on board his vesseluntil she was beyond the Rio Pongo’s bar. The officer assented; and when the last boat-load of slaves was despatched from mybarracoon, he lifted his anchor and floated down the stream till he got beyond the furthest breakers. Here, with sails loosely furled, and every thing ready for instant departure, he again laid to, awaiting the royalbonne-bouche.
In the mean time, I hurried Beeljie with her friends and Fullah jailer to the beach, so that when the slaver threw his sails aback and brought his vessel to the wind, I lost not a moment in putting the girl in a canoe, with five Kroomen to carry her through the boiling surf.
“Allah be praised!” sighed the Fullah, as the boat shot ahead into the sea; while the girls of the harem fell on the sand with wails of sorrow. The Kroomen, with their usual skill, drove the buoyant skiff swiftly towards the slaver; but, as they approached the breakers south of the bar, a heavy roller struck it on the side, and instantly, its freight was struggling in the surge.
In a twinkling, the Fullah was on the earth, his face buried in the sand; the girls screamed and tore their garments; Ali-Ninpha’s wife clung to me with the grasp of despair; while I, stamping with rage, cursed the barbarity of the maiden’s parent, whose sentence had brought her to this wretched fate.
I kicked the howling hypocrite beneath me, and bade him hasten with the news to Timbo, and tell the wicked patriarch that the Prophet himself had destroyed the life of his wretched child, sooner than suffer her to become a Christian’s slave.
The Spanish vessel was under full sail, sweeping rapidly out to sea, and the Kroomen swam ashore without their boat, as the grieving group slowly and sadly retraced their way along the river’s bank to Kambia.