Mou-Setsé: A Negro Hero; The Orphans' Pilgimage: A Story of Trust in God
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thingsthat were about to happen.
The Kakundan camp, quickly discovering that the strongest of theinhabitants of Eyeo had left the city to seek food, determined not tolose so good an opportunity to make a final attack on the place. Tomake this attack, however, they must take two or three days to prepare.But well did the wretched people inside the city know what was going tohappen. Poor little Mou-Setse and his brothers and sister became atlast really alive to their danger. They all cried and wept; butMou-Setse, though the youngest, possessed the bravest heart. He knewthat crying would do no good; he wondered would it be possible to act,and so to act as to save his brothers and sister. He said nothing tothem, but he ran about the town, and chatted to the old women, andfinally got them to tell him a secret. This was the secret: as many aspossible meant to escape from Eyeo that night. Mou-Setse thought thathe and his brothers and his sister might go too. Perhaps they mightsoon find their father and mother. Mou-Setse believed that if only hehad his mother's arms round him again he might be safe. He told hisbrothers and sister of his plan, and they all agreed to escape that verynight. As soon as the night was quite dark they left their hut and wentsoftly in the direction of the city wall. They reached the great citygate in safety, but there a sad scene of confusion met their eyes.Crowds of people were trying to get out, and, in the darkness, many ofthe feebler ones were killed. It was dreadful to listen to their criesand groans. Mou-Setse saw that little children would have no chancewhatever in such a crowd. He wondered could they climb the wall, butits smooth, hard side, twenty feet high, he soon saw would be utterlyimpracticable.
Very sadly the children returned home, and most bitter tears did theyshed in each other's arms. Poor little children! they little guessedthat never again would they kiss each other, or play together, or behappy with that innocent happiness that the good and loving God gives tolittle children. Cruel men who followed the devil, not God, were soonto part them the one from the other. In the morning a truly fearfulsight met their eyes. The huts were nearly empty; parties of the enemywalked about the streets; the gardens, that used to be so beautiful,were torn and ruined; many aged men, who had killed themselves in theirdread of slavery, were lying dead in the streets. A little farther onthey heard the crackling of burning wood, and soon the flames of theirbeloved city burst upon their sight. The enemy had set Eyeo on fire.
STORY ONE, CHAPTER THREE.
WHAT "THE RIGHT OF SEARCH" DID FOR MOU-SETSE.
No doubt, the children who read this story have heard of slaves; haveheard how some little children are not free; how they are sold to anyone who will give enough money for them; and that whether they haveloving mothers and kind fathers who break their hearts at parting fromthem. The fathers are sold to one slave master, the mothers to another,the children to another. Often, very often, these children and fathersand mothers never meet again. In these days no slaves are allowed to bekept in any English territory, and even in America the slaves are atlast set free. At the time, however, when Mou-Setse was a little boy,there were numbers of slaves in America, and indeed in many other partsof the world. Mou-Setse had heard of slaves--for what tiny African boyhad not?--and now he knew that he himself was going to be a slave. Whenhe saw the flames rising up in Eyeo, and his beloved home being burnt toashes, he knew that this fate was before him. "Let us fly!" said hiselder brother, whispering eagerly to him in his native tongue; butMou-Setse shook his head, for he knew he could not fly. All around wasa terrible scene of confusion. Women, carrying children in their arms,were trying to escape from the burning huts; sometimes they wereentangled in a prickly bush and thrown down, or they were caught by thecruel enemy and tied together in gangs, so that they could not escape.Mou-Setse stood quite still, and his brothers and sister, when they sawhe could not fly, stayed near him. Soon the bright-looking childrenattracted attention, and were taken--then immediately they wereseparated from each other.
Poor little Mou-Setse, as he was carried away in a gang with many othercaptives, though he forced the tears back from his eyes, and fried,brave little fellow that he was, to keep up a brave heart, yet could notbut cast some lingering glances back at the rocky hills where he and hisbrothers had often played so happily. He felt in his poor little heartthat his play days were over, for how often had his mother told him thatthere was no play for slave children.
At last, after a long, long journey, little Mou-Setse and a long gang ofother slaves found themselves at a place called Quorra. Here thePortuguese met them, and here they were to be really sold. A tradercame to examine Mou-Setse, and finding him strong and healthy, quicklybought him. He was now to be sold again. The trader, seeing that hewas a fine boy and handsome, took great pains with him. He gave himgood food, and washed his polished black face, and brushed his woollylocks. He did this from no spirit of kindness, but simply from thedesire to get a greater price for him. At last, when he had recoveredfrom the fatigues of his journey, and looked fresh and bright, hebrought him into the slave market. Here the traders who came to buyclustered round him and pulled off his clothes, and felt his limbs, andmade him run, and leap, and throw his legs and arms about. No one caredwhether he liked this treatment or not. He was treated in all respectslike an animal without either soul or feeling. In about three hours hewas bought by another trader and put, with many of his fellow slaves,into a canoe. They were sailing all that evening and all the next day.They passed through some very beautiful country, and Mou-Setse mighthave enjoyed the lovely scenery had his heart been less full of wonderand pain. As it was, however, he could think of nothing but Eyeo andhis home. Again and again he seemed to hear his beloved mother's voice,or he fancied himself looking with pride and admiration at his bravewarrior father. Though he loved his mother best, yet it was theremembrance of his father that brought most strength to his poor littleheart now; for his father had said to him often in his native languagethat a brave boy never wept--tears were for women and girls, but not forboys, who hoped to be warriors by-and-bye. Remembering these words ofhis father's, little Mou-Setse pressed back the tears from his hoteyelids, and endeavoured to wear an indifferent face. He could notquite smile--his heart was too heavy for smiles--but no one saw theglistening of a tear on his dark cheek. Occupied with these bitter andsad thoughts, he could scarcely be expected to notice the beautifulscenery through which the river on which the canoe glided passed. Hisfather, his mother, his brothers, his sister, he was torn from them all;he did not know what had become of them; he might never hope to see themagain; he might never learn their fate; their suffering might be evengreater than his own. Poor little boy! and he knew of no God to comforthim, and had never heard of any hope beyond this world.
At last the canoe reached a place called Ikho. Little Mou-Setse wasagain sold, and this time was sent to the fold, or the spot wherepurchased slaves are kept till there is an opportunity to send them offin vessels to other countries.
Mou-Setse found life in the fold very dreadful. He had a coarse ropeput around his neck, the ends of which were fastened round the necks ofother slaves, so that a long row of them were secured together, and onecould not move without dragging all the others with him. The boys werethus roped together, and the men chained in fifties.
In this terrible place--treated with cruelty, cold, half-naked--Mou-Setse spent two months.
But a greater evil was to come. This poor little African boy was topass through a black and heavy cloud into God's glorious light.
For let no one suppose that God had forgotten this little child whom Hehad made. Every hair of that little woolly head was numbered by God;every sigh he sighed, every groan he uttered, was heard and regarded bythat great and good God, who loved him just as well with his black skinas He loved the fairest and most lovely English child.
But Mou-Setse had a dreadful time before him, for God teaches Hislessons in the storm as well as the sunshine.
This suffering was to take place on board the Portuguese slave-ship towhich he was shortly removed. No on
e can understand who has notwitnessed it the miseries of a slave vessel. The negroes are placed ontheir backs, or fixed in a sitting position, on ranges of shelves, oneabove the other, and in dark, close places, where hardly any air and nolight are allowed to enter.
Here they are chained so close together that the space which each isallowed is scarcely so much as he would have in his coffin. Thus theylie for weeks and months, sometimes brought up on deck to jump about intheir chains for exercise, exposed to sea-sickness, disease, and to therubbing of the rough boards on their naked bodies. Many die, and thosewho live are, on landing, wretched objects. In the vessel in whichMou-Setse was, the men were packed away below deck, but the women andchildren were allowed to remain above. Sad, sad were their hearts asthey thought of their dear native country, and of those little childrenand fathers and mothers from whom they were severed. Their bodilysufferings were also very hard to bear... But God had not