Chapter 16 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
I was glad when morning dawned, for I slept but little that night. The sad fate of the poor sailor lay heavily upon my spirits during the whole of the next day, and I could not help thinking that some such ending might happen to myself. It was the constant dread I was in of the brutal violence of mate and captain that produced these unpleasant forebodings; for I regarded these men as the real murderers of the unfortunate man. The crocodile only came in as an accessory, and had no such creature appeared upon the scene the Dutchman would, no doubt, have perished all the same by the bullets of their muskets. The monster had only forestalled them, and hastened the event by a few seconds of time; and it was evident that had they shot the man instead—these reckless ruffians—they would have been equally disregardful of consequences—equally without remorse or regret. No wonder I felt that my life was insecure—no wonder my mind was filled with forebodings.
During the whole of that day the death-scream of the poor sailor seemed to echo in my ears, in sad contrast with the coarse mirth and loud rude laughter that rang over the decks of the Pandora. On board it was a day of jubilee. King Dingo Bingo was entertained by the captain, and brought not only some of his chief men with him, but also his harem of black-skinned beauties, between whom and the rough men of the crew, love-making, dancing, and carousing was kept up to a late hour in the night.
The paltry cargo of goods which the barque had carried was by this time taken on shore and delivered to his commercial majesty; who, in return, had counted out his captives and made them over as slaves to the skipper. Before they could be taken aboard, however, the vessel required some alterations. New gratings were to be made—instead of those destroyed during the chase—and bulkheads were to be strengthened and repaired, for it was intended to partition off the males from the females. It was not any idea of decency that prompted this arrangement, but simply convenience. Moreover, the water-butts had to be emptied of the salt-water which they contained, and fresh substituted in its stead, all which work would require a considerable time for its performance. The last thing would be the embarkation of the cargo. This would be the easiest of all, as each “bale” was able to transport itself from shore to ship, and take its place without giving the least trouble. The stowage of such a cargo was accounted handy. The slaves, therefore, remained in the barracoon, and the preparations for their embarkation went on.
I still yearned to visit the shore. My heart was sick of the scenes daily witnessed on board, and I believed that if I could only get a day’s excursion into the wild woods it would be a real happiness. I even fancied it would strengthen me to bear the voyage of the “middle way,” of the horrors of which I had heard something, and about which I felt forebodings and apprehensions.
It was not even the prospect of my own sufferings that caused me this uneasiness. It was the thought of the tortures I should witness—the appalling spectacle of the crowded steerage—the endurance and misery of those hapless negroes, who were to be penned together with scarce room to sit down—not enough to lie down—who were to be kept thus for long, long weeks on scant food and drink—half famished—half dead with thirst—panting and fainting under tropic heat and foul air, many of them actually destined to perish from these causes! Such spectacles should I be called upon to witness—perhaps to take part in. It was this prospect that gave me pain, and no wonder it should.
My own life was wretched enough—full of regrets. It was not an absolute fondness for the profession of the sea that had lured me from home. It was rather an ardent desire to see foreign lands—in short, that longing for travel and adventure which every boy experiences to some degree, but which with me was a passion. I fancied that a sailor’s life would enable me to indulge in this propensity; but, alas! here was I in Africa itself, in the midst of its wild and sublime scenery, and yet scarce allowed to look upon it! I was more like a prisoner gazing through the grating of his gaol upon the free world without—like a bird who sees through the wires of its cage the bright-green foliage, amidst which it would gladly disport itself.
But I was not without hopes of being able to gratify my longings. Brace had made me a promise, that as soon as he himself should be allowed a day to go ashore, he would try hard to get permission for me to accompany him. This was my hope, and I was cheered at the prospect, though not without doubts that my patron’s request might be denied by the unfeeling brutes.
Meanwhile I made the most of my situation, and endeavoured as best I could to vary its miserable monotony by observing whatever of Nature could be seen around. Even within the circumference of my vision from the Pandora’s deck, there was much that was new to me and interesting. The country around was entirely without inhabitants. The houses upon the banks of the river were mere temporary dwellings. They constituted the “factory” of King Dingo Bingo—that is, his slave-mart; but his majesty did not reside there. His town and palace were farther up the river, where the country was higher and more healthy—for here, near the sea, the climate was rife with malaria, and all the diseases for which the west coast of Africa is so notorious. The king only visited this place at “intervals,” sometimes only once a year, when the Pandora or some other vessel came for her cargo of slaves—the chief product of King Dingo Bingo’s dominions. Then would he descend the river with his “crop,” gathered from all parts—the produce of many a sanguinary conflict—many a bloodstained man-chase, in which he and his myrmidons had been engaged. He would bring with him his picked bodyguard, and his following of wives and women; for the visit to the slave-ship, with her cargo of strong waters, was the signal for a series of coarse festivities on the grandest scale.
At all other times of the year the factory would be deserted, its huts uninhabited by man, and its barracoon empty. Fierce beasts of prey would occupy the place where man had dwelt—scarce less ferocious than themselves—and Nature would be left to her silence and solitude.
For this reason the scene around had its charms for me. Its very wildness was charming, and, even within the circumscribed circle of my view, I saw much to gratify my curiosity and give me pleasure.
I saw the gigantic “river-horse,” wallowing through the flood, and dragging his clumsy body out upon the bank. Of these I observed two sorts—for it is a fact, though scarce known to naturalists, that there are two distinct kinds of the hippopotamus found in the rivers of Western Africa—the one least known being a much smaller animal than the hippopotamus of the Nile and the Hottentots. I saw daily, almost hourly, the huge crocodiles, lying like dead trees along the edge of the stream, or swimming rapidly through the river in pursuit of their finny prey; large porpoises, too, leaping high above the surface, sometimes passing the vessel so near that I could have struck them with a handspike. These were from the sea, making long excursions up the river in search of a favourite food that floated plenteously in the fresh-water. Other amphibious creatures I perceived at times—a large water-lizard that almost rivalled the crocodiles in bulk—and I once had a peep at the rare creature, the “red water-bog” of the Cameroons—for the little river we were anchored in was not far from the same latitude as the Cameroons itself, and the same species inhabited both.
Land animals, too, occasionally made their appearance on the bank, within sight of the barque. A lion was observed skulking through the trees; and huge monkeys, both red and black ones, appeared through the branches, whose wild, sometimes human, voices could be heard at all times of the night,—moaning, screaming, and chattering. Beautiful birds, too—wood-pigeons, parrots, and strange kinds of water-birds—were constantly hovering over the river, flying from bank to bank, or perched on the tops of the trees, giving utterance to their varied notes.
In truth it was an animated scene, and had I been allowed time and leisure I could have regarded it for a long while without being wearied with its monotony. As it was, however, those voices and movements of the beasts and birds only increased my longings to visit their wild wood-haunts, and make nearer acquaintance with those of them that were innocent and beautiful. With what joy then did I learn from Brace that upon the morrow he was to have “his day,” and that he had succeeded in obtaining leave for me to accompany him!
The boon had been granted in a surly manner—not to me, but to Brace himself, who had represented that he wanted me to assist him. He was going upon a hunt—for, like most of his countrymen, Brace had a little of the sportsman in him—and he would need some one to carry his game. For this reason was I allowed to go along.
For my part, I cared not for the reason. I was too happy in the prospect to cavil about the motives; and I prepared to accompany my patron with a feeling of joyful anticipation, such as I had never experienced before at the prospect of any happiness in store for me.