The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “Me no like dat negroe,” Ostik said. “Me think we hab trouble. You see all women and children gone, dat bad. Wait till see what do when king come.”

  That day and the next passed quietly. The baggage had been piled in a circle, as usual, in an open space outside the village; the tent being pitched in the center, and Ostik advised Mr. Goodenough to sleep here instead of in the village. The day after their arrival passed but heavily. The natives showed but little curiosity as to the newcomers, although these must have been far more strange to them than to the people nearer the coast. Still no women or children made their appearance. Towards evening a great drumming was heard in the distance.

  “Here is his majesty at last,” Mr. Goodenough said, “we shall soon see what is his disposition.”

  In a short time the village was filled with a crowd of men all carrying spears and bows and arrows. The drumming came nearer and nearer, and then, carried in a chair on the shoulders of four strong negroes, while ten others armed with guns marched beside him, the king made his appearance.

  Mr. Goodenough and Frank advanced to meet him. The king was a tall man with a savage expression of countenance. Behind Mr. Goodenough, Ostik and the Fan who spoke the language advanced. The king’s chair was lowered under the shade of a tree, and two attendants with palm leaf fans at once began to fan his majesty.

  “Tell the king,” Mr. Goodenough said, “that we are white men who have come to see his country, and to pass through to the countries beyond. We have many presents for him, and wish to buy food and to hire carriers in place of those who have brought our things thus far.”

  The king listened in silence.

  “Why do the white men bring our enemies into our land?” he asked angrily.

  “We have come up from the coast,” Mr. Goodenough said; “and as we passed through the Fan country we hired men there to carry our goods, just as we wish to hire men here to go on into the country beyond. There were none of the king’s men in that country or we would have hired them.”

  “Let me see the white men’s presents,” the king said.

  A box was opened, a bright scarlet shirt and a smoking cap of the same color, worked with beads, a blue silk handkerchief and twenty yards of bright calico, were taken out. To these were added twelve stair rods, five pounds of powder, and two pounds of shot.

  The king’s eye sparkled greedily as he looked at the treasures.

  “The white men must be very rich,” he said, pointing to the pile of baggage.

  “Most of the boxes are empty,” Mr. Goodenough said. “We have brought them to take home the things of the country and show them to the white men beyond the sea;” and to prove the truth of his words, Mr. Goodenough had two of the empty cases opened, as also one already half filled with bird skins, and another with trays of butterflies and beetles.

  The king looked at them with surprise.

  “And the others?” he asked, pointing to them.

  “The others,” Mr. Goodenough said, “contain, some of them, food such as white men are accustomed to eat in their own country, the others, presents for the other kings and chiefs I shall meet when we have passed on.

  “The fellow is not satisfied,” he said to Ostik, “give him two of the trade guns and a bottle of brandy.”

  The king appeared mollified by these additional presents, and saying that he would talk to the white men in the morning, he retired into the village.

  “I don’t like the looks of things,” Mr. Goodenough said. “I fear that the presents we have given the king will only stimulate his desire for more. However, we shall see in the morning.”

  When night fell, two of the Houssas were placed on guard. The Fans slept inside the circle formed by the baggage. Several times in the night the Houssas challenged bodies of men whom they heard approaching, but these at once retired.

  In the morning a messenger presented himself from the king, saying that he required many more presents, that the things which had been given were only fit for the chief of a village, and not for a great king. Mr. Goodenough answered, that he had given the best he had, that the presents were fit for a great king, and that he should give no more.

  “If we are to have trouble,” he said to Frank, “it is far better to have it at once while the Fans are with us, than when we are alone with no one but the Houssas and the subjects of this man. The Fans will fight, and we could hold this encampment against any number of savages.”

  A quarter of an hour later the drums began beating furiously again. Loud shouts and yells arose in the village, and the natives could be seen moving excitedly about. Presently these all disappeared.

  “Fight come now,” Ostik said.

  “You’d better lower the tent at once, Ostik. It will only be in our way.”

  The tent was speedily lowered. The Fans grasped their spears and lay down behind the circle of boxes and bales, and the six Houssas, the two white men and Ostik, to whom a trade musket had been entrusted, took their places at regular intervals round the circle, which was some eight yards in diameter. Presently the beat of the drums again broke the silence, and a shower of arrows, coming apparently from all points of the compass, fell in and around the circle.

  “Open fire steadily and quietly,” Mr. Goodenough said, “among the bushes, but don’t fire fast. We must tempt them to show themselves.”

  A dropping fire commenced against the invisible foe, the fire being no more frequent than it would have been had they been armed with muzzle loading weapons. Presently musketry was heard on the enemy’s side, the king’s bodyguard having opened fire. This was disastrous to them, for, whereas the arrows had afforded but slight index as to the position of those who shot them, the puffs of smoke from the muskets at once showed the lurking places of those who used them, and Mr. Goodenough and Frank replied so truly that in a very short time the musketry fire of the enemy ceased altogether. The rain of arrows continued, the yells of the natives rose louder and louder, and the drums beat more furiously.

  “They will be out directly,” Mr. Goodenough said. “Fire as quickly as you can when they show, but be sure and take good aim.”

  Presently the sound of a war horn was heard, and from the wood all round a crowd of dark figures dashed forward, uttering appalling yells. On the instant the dropping fire of the defenders changed into an almost continuous fusillade, as the Sniders of the Houssas, the breech loading rifle of Mr. Goodenough, and the repeating Winchester of Frank were brought into play at their full speed. Yells of astonishment broke from the natives, and a minute later, leaving nearly a score of their comrades on the ground, the rest dashed back into the forest.

  There was silence for a time and then the war drums began again.

  “Dey try again hard dis time, massa,” Ostik said. “King tell ’em he cut off deir heads dey not win battle.”

  This time the natives rushed forward with reckless bravery, in spite of the execution made among them by the rapid fire of the defenders, and rushed up to the circle of boxes. Then the Fans leaped to their feet, and, spear in hand, dashed over the defenses and fell upon the enemy.

  The attack was decisive. Uttering yells of terror the natives fled, and two minutes later not a sound was to be heard in the forest.

  “I tink dey run away for good dis time, sar,” Ostik said. “Dey hav’ ’nuf of him. Dey fight very brave, much more brave than people down near coast. Dere in great battle only three, four men killed. Here as many men killed as we got altogether.”

  This was so, nearly fifty of the natives having fallen between the trees and the encampment. When an hour passed and all was still, it became nearly certain that the enemy had retreated, and the Houssas, who are splendid scouts, divested themselves of their clothing and crawled away into the wood to reconnoiter. They returned in half an hour in high glee, bearing the king’s chair.

  “Dey all run away, sar, ebery one, de king an’ all, and leab his chair behind. Dat great disgrace for him.”

  A council was now held. The Fa
ns were so delighted with the victory they had won, that they expressed their readiness to remain with their white companions as long as they chose, providing these would guarantee that they should be sent home on the expiration of their service. This Mr. Goodenough readily promised. After discussing the question with Frank, he determined to abstain from pushing farther into the interior, but to keep along northward, and then turning west with the sweep of the coast to travel slowly along, keeping at about the same distance as at present from the sea, and finally to come down either upon Cape Coast or Sierra Leone.

  This journey would occupy a considerable time. They would cross countries but little known, and would have an ample opportunity for the collection of specimens, which they might, from time to time, send down by the various rivers they would cross, to the trading stations at their mouths.

  It was felt that after this encounter with the natives it would be imprudent in the extreme to push further into the interior. They would have continual battles to fight, large numbers of the natives would be killed, and their collecting operations would be greatly interfered with. As a lesson to the natives the village was burnt to the ground; the presents, which the king in the hurry of his flight had left behind him, being recovered.

  A liberal allowance of tobacco was served out as a “dash” or present to the Fans, and a bright silk handkerchief given to each. Then they turned off at right angles to the line they had before been pursuing and continued their journey.

  Two days later Mr. Goodenough was prostrated by fever, and for several days lay between life and death. When he became convalescent he recovered strength very slowly. The heat was prodigious and the mosquitos rendered sleep almost impossible at night. The country at this place was low and swampy, and, weak as he was, Mr. Goodenough determined to push forward. He was, however, unable to walk, and, for the first time, a hammock was got out and mounted.

  There is no more comfortable conveyance in the world than a hammock in Africa. It is slung from a long bamboo pole, overhead a thick awning keeps the sun from the hammock. Across the ends of the pole boards of some three feet long are fastened. The natives wrap a piece of cloth into the shape of a muffin and place it on their heads, and then take their places, two at each end of the pole, with the ends of the board on their heads. They can trot along at the rate of six miles an hour, for great distances, often keeping up a monotonous song. Their action is perfectly smooth and easy, and the traveler in the hammock, by shutting his eyes, might imagine himself swinging in a cot on board ship on an almost waveless sea.

  After two days traveling they got on to higher ground, and here they camped for some time, Mr. Goodenough slowly recovering strength, and Frank busy in adding to their collections. In this he was in no slight degree assisted by the Fans, who, having nothing else to do, had now come to enter into the occupation of their employers. A good supply of muslin had been brought, and nets having been made, the Fans captured large quantities of butterflies, the great difficulty being in convincing them that only a few of each species were required. They were still more valuable in grubbing about in the decaying trunks of fallen trees, under loose bark, and in broken ground, for beetles and larvae, a task which suited them better than running about after butterflies, which, moreover, they often spoilt irreparably by their rough handling. Thus Frank was able to devote himself entirely to the pursuit of birds, and although all the varieties more usually met with had been obtained, the collection steadily increased in size.

  Frank himself had severe attacks of fever, but none of these were so severe as that which he had had on the day of the death of the leopards.

  At the end of a month Mr. Goodenough had recovered his strength, and they again moved forward.

  BY SHEER PLUCK (Part 2)

  CHAPTER XII

  A NEGRO’S STORY

  On arriving at a large village one day, they were struck as they approached by the far greater appearance of comfort and neatness than generally distinguish African villages. The plots of plantations were neatly fenced, the street was clean and well kept. As they entered the village they were met by the principal people, headed by an old white haired negro.

  “Me berry glad to see you, white men,” he said. “Long time me no see white men.”

  “And it is a long time,” said Mr. Goodenough, shaking hands with him, “since I have heard the sound of my own tongue outside my party.”

  “Me berry glad to see you,” repeated the negro. “Me chief of dis village. Make you berry comfortable, sar. Great honor for dis village dat you come here. Plenty eberyting for you, fowl, and eggs, and plantain, and sometime a sheep.”

  “We have, indeed, fallen into the lap of luxury,” Mr. Goodenough said to Frank; and they followed the negro to his hut. “I suppose the old man has been employed in one of the factories upon the coast.”

  The interior of the hut was comfortably furnished and very clean. A sort of divan covered with neatly woven mats extended round three sides. In the center was an attempt at a table. A doubled barreled gun and a rifle hung over the hearth. A small looking glass and several colored prints in cheap frames were suspended from the walls. A great chest stood at one end of the room, while on a shelf were a number of plates and dishes of English manufacture.

  The negro begged his guests to be seated, and presently a girl entered, bringing in a large calabash full of water for them to wash their hands and faces. In the meantime the old negro had gone to his chest, and, to the immense surprise of the travelers, brought out a snow white tablecloth, which he proceeded to lay on the table, and then to place knives, forks, and plates upon it.

  “You must ’scuse deficiencies, sar,” he said. “We berry long way from coast, and dese stupid negroes dey break tings most ebery day.”

  “Don’t talk about deficiencies,” Mr. Goodenough answered smiling. “All this is, indeed, astonishing to us here.”

  “You berry good to say dat, sar, but dis chile know how tings ought to be done. Me libed in good Melican family. He know berry well how tings ought to be done.”

  “Ah, you have traveled a good deal!” Mr. Goodenough said.

  “Yes, sar, me trabel great deal. Me lib in Cuba long time. Den me lib slave states, what you call Confederate. Den me lib Northern state, also Canada under Queen Victoria. Me trabel bery much. Now, sar, dinner come. Time to eat not to talk. After dinner white gentlemen tell me what they came here for. Me tell dem if they like about my trabels, but dat berry long story.”

  The dinner consisted of two fowls cut in half and grilled over a fire, fried plantains, and, to the astonishment of the travelers, green peas, followed by cold boiled rice over which honey had been poured. Their host had placed plates only for two, but they would not sit down until he had consented to join them.

  Two girls waited, both neatly dressed in cotton, in a fashion which was a compromise between European and negro notions.

  After dinner the negro presented them with two large and excellent cigars, made, as he said, from tobacco grown in his own garden, and the astonishment of the travelers was heightened by the reappearance of one of the girls bearing a tray with three small cups of excellent black coffee.

  Their host now asked them for the story of their journey from the coast, and the object with which they had penetrated Africa. Mr. Goodenough related their adventures, and said that they were naturalists in search of objects of natural history. When he had finished Ostik, in obedience to a whisper from him, brought in a bottle of brandy, at the sight of which the negro broke into a chuckle.

  “Me tree months widout taste dat. Once ebery year me send down to coast, get coffee, tea, sugar, calico, beads, and rum. Dis time de rum am finish too soon. One of de cases get broke and half de bottles smash. Dat berry bad job. Dis chile calculate dat six dozen last for a year, dat give him one bottle each week and twenty bottles for presents to oder chiefs. Eighteen bottles go smash, and as de oder chiefs expec’ deir present all de same, Sam hab ta go widout. De men start three weeks ago for coa
st. Me hope dey come back in six weeks more.”

  “Well,” Mr. Goodenough said, “you need not go without it till they come back, for I can give you eight bottles which will last you for two months. I have got a good supply, and as I never use it for trade unless a chief particularly wants it, I can very well spare it.”

  The old negro was greatly pleased, and when he had drank his glass of brandy and water he responded to Mr. Goodenough’s request, and, lighting a fresh cigar, he began the story of his adventures.

  “I was born in dis berry village somewhere about seventy years ago. I not know for sure widin two or three year, for when I young man I no keep account. My fader was de chief of dis village, just as I am now, but de village was not like dis. It was not so big, and was berry dirty and berry poor, just like the oder negro villages. Well, sar, dere am nothing perticlar to tell about de first years of my life. I jus’ dirty little naked negro like de rest. Dose were berry bad times. Ebery one fight against ebery one else. Ebery one take slabes and send dem down de river, and sell to white men dere to carry ober sea. When I grow up to seventeen, I s’pose, I take spear and go out wid de people of dis village and de oder villages of dis part ob country under king, and fight against oder villages and carry the people away as slabes. All berry bad business dat. But Sam he tink nothing, and just do the same as oder people. Sometimes oder tribes come and fight against our villages and carry our people away. So it happened to Sam.

  “Jus’ when he about twenty years old we had come back from a long ’spedition. Dis village got its share ob slabes, and we drink and sing and make merry wid de palm tree wine and tink ourselves berry grand fellows. Well, sar, dat night great hullyballoo in de village. De dogs bark, de men shout and seize deir arms and run out to fight, but it no good. Anoder tribe fall on us ten times as many as we. We fight hard but no use. All de ole men and de ole women and de little babies dat no good to sell dey killed, and de rest of us, de men and de women and de boys and girls, we tied together and march away wid de people dat had taken us.