Jules Verne (34 page)

"Those crimes, perpetrated in the center of Africa by men who boast of
the name of Christians, and consider themselves Portuguese, would seem
incredible to the inhabitants of civilized countries. It is impossible
that the government of Lisbon knows the atrocities committed by people
who boast of being her subjects."
—Tour of the World
.

In Portugal there have been very warm protestations against these
assertions of Cameron's.

It need not be said that, during the marches, as during the halts, the
prisoners were very carefully guarded. Thus, Dick Sand soon understood
that he must not even attempt to get away. But then, how find Mrs.
Weldon again? That she and her child had been carried away by Negoro
was only too certain. The Portuguese had separated her from her
companions for reasons unknown as yet to the young novice. But he
could not doubt Negoro's intervention, and his heart was breaking at
the thought of the dangers of all kinds which threatened Mrs. Weldon.

"Ah!" he said to himself, "when I think that I have held those two
miserable men, both of them, at the end of my gun, and that I have not
killed them!"

This thought was one of those which returned most persistently to Dick
Sand's mind. What misfortunes the death, the just death of Harris and
Negoro might have prevented! What misery, at least, for those whom
these brokers in human flesh were now treating as slaves!

All the horror of Mrs. Weldon's and little Jack's situation now
represented itself to Dick Sand. Neither the mother nor the child
could count on Cousin Benedict. The poor man could hardly take care of
himself.

Doubtless they were taking all three to some district remote from the
province of Angola. But who was carrying the still sick child?

"His mother; yes, his mother," Dick Sand repeated to himself. "She
will have recovered strength for him; she will have done what these
unhappy female slaves do, and she will fall like them. Ah! may God put
me again in front of her executioners, and I—"

But he was a prisoner! He counted one head in this live-stock that the
overseers were driving to the interior of Africa. He did not even know
whether Negoro and Harris themselves were directing the convoy of
which their victims made a part. Dingo was no longer there to scent
the Portuguese, to announce his approach. Hercules alone might come to
the assistance of the unfortunate Mrs. Weldon. But was that miracle to
be hoped for?

However, Dick Sand fell back again on that idea. He said to himself
that the strong black man was free. Of his devotion there was no
doubt. All that a human being could do, Hercules would do in Mrs.
Weldon's interest. Yes, either Hercules would try to find them and put
himself in communication with them; or if that failed him, he would
endeavor to concert with him, Dick Sand, and perhaps carry him off,
deliver him by force. During the night halts, mingling with these
prisoners, black like them, could he not deceive the soldier's
vigilance, reach him, break his bonds, and lead him away into the
forest? And both of them, then free, what would they not do for Mrs.
Weldon's safety. A water course would enable them to descend to the
coast. Dick Sand would again take up that plan so unfortunately
prevented by the natives' attack, with new chances of success and a
greater knowledge of the difficulties.

The young novice thus alternated between fear and hope. In fact, he
resisted despair, thanks to his energetic nature, and held himself in
readiness to profit by the least chance that might offer itself to
him.

What he most desired to know was to what market the agents were taking
the convoy of slaves. Was it to one of the factories of Angola, and
would it be an affair of a few halting-places only, or would this
convoy travel for hundreds of miles still, across Central Africa? The
principal market of the contractors is that of N'yangwe, in Manyema,
on that meridian which divides the African continent into two almost
equal parts, there where extends the country of the great lakes, that
Livingstone was then traversing. But it was far from the camp on the
Coanza to that village. Months of travel would not suffice to reach
it.

That was one of Dick Sand's most serious thoughts; for, once at
N'yangwe, in case even Mrs. Weldon, Hercules, the other blacks and
he should succeed in escaping, how difficult it would be, not to say
impossible, to return to the seacoast, in the midst of the dangers of
such a long route.

But Dick Sand soon had reason to think that the convoy would soon
reach its destination. Though he did not understand the language
employed by the chiefs of the caravan, sometimes Arab, sometimes the
African idiom, he remarked that the name of an important market of
that region was often pronounced. It was the name Kazounde, and he
knew that a very great trade in slaves was carried on there. He was
then naturally led to believe that there the fate of the prisoners
would be decided, whether for the profit of the king of that district
or for the benefit of some rich trader of the country. We know that he
was not mistaken.

Now, Dick Sand, being posted in the facts of modern geography, knew
very exactly what is known of Kazounde. The distance from Saint
Paul de Loanda to this city does not exceed four hundred miles, and
consequently two hundred and fifty miles, at the most, separates
it from the camp established on the Coanza. Dick Sand made his
calculation approximately, taking the distance traveled by the
little troop under Harris's lead as the base. Now, under ordinary
circumstances, this journey would only require from ten to twelve
days. Doubling that time for the needs of a caravan already exhausted
by a long route, Dick Sand might estimate the length of the journey
from the Coanza to Kazounde at three weeks.

Dick Sand wished very much to impart what he believed he knew to Tom
and his companions. It would be a kind of consolation for them to be
assured that they were not being led to the center of Africa, into
those fatal countries which they could not hope to leave. Now, a few
words uttered in passing would be sufficient to enlighten them. Would
he succeed in saying those words?

Tom and Bat—chance had reunited the father and son—Acteon and
Austin, forked two by two, were at the right extremity of the camp. An
overseer and a dozen soldiers watched them.

Dick Sand, free in his movements, resolved to gradually diminish the
distance that separated him from his companions to fifty steps. He
then commenced to maneuver to that end.

Very likely old Tom divined Dick Sand's thought. A word, pronounced in
a low voice, warned his companions to be attentive. They did not stir,
but they kept themselves ready to see, as well as to hear.

Soon, with an indifferent air, Dick Sand had gained fifty steps more.
From the place where he then was, he could have called out, in such
a manner as to be heard, that name Kazounde, and tell them what
the probable length of the journey would be. But to complete his
instructions, and confer with them on their conduct during the
journey, would be still better. He then continued to draw nearer to
them. Already his heart was beating with hope; he was only a few
steps from the desired end, when the overseer, as if he had suddenly
penetrated his intention, rushed on him. At the cries of that enraged
person, ten soldiers ran to the spot, and Dick Sand was brutally led
back to the rear, while Tom and his companions were taken to the other
extremity of the camp.

Exasperated, Dick Sand had thrown himself upon the overseer. He had
ended by breaking his gun in his hands. He had almost succeeded in
snatching it from him. But seven or eight soldiers assailed him at
once, and force was used to secure him. Furious, they would have
massacred him, if one of the chiefs of the caravan, an Arab of great
height and ferocious physiognomy, had not intervened. This Arab was
the chief Ibn Hamis, of whom Harris had spoken. He pronounced a few
words which Dick Sand could not understand, and the soldiers, obliged
to release their prey, went away.

It was, then, very evident, for one thing, that there had been a
formal order not to allow the young novice to communicate with his
companions; and for another, that his life should not be taken.

Who could have given such orders, if not Harris or Negoro?

At that moment—it was nine o'clock in the morning, April 19th—the
harsh sounds from a "condou's" horn (a kind of ruminating animal among
the African deer) burst forth, and the drum was heard. The halt was
going to end.

All, chiefs, porters, soldiers, slaves, were immediately on foot.
Laden with their packs, several groups of captives were formed under
the leadership of an overseer, who unfurled a banner of bright colors.

The signal for departure was given. Songs then rose on the air; but
they were the vanquished, not the vanquishers, who sang thus.

This is what they said in these songs—a threatening expression of a
simple faith from the slaves against their oppressors—against their
executioners:

"You have sent me to the coast, but I shall be dead; I shall have a
yoke no longer, and I shall return to kill you."

Though the storm of the day before had ceased, the weather was still
very unsettled. It was, besides, the period of the "masika," the
second period of the rainy season, under this zone of the African
heaven. The nights in particular would be rainy during one, two, or
three weeks, which could only increase the misery of the caravan.

It set out that day in cloudy weather, and, after quitting the banks
of the Coanza, made its way almost directly to the east. Fifty
soldiers marched at the head, a hundred on each of the two sides of
the convoy, the rest as a rear-guard. It would be difficult for the
prisoners to flee, even if they had not been chained. Women, children,
and men were going pell-mell, and the overseers urged them on with the
whip. There were unfortunate mothers who, nursing one child, held a
second by the hand that was free. Others dragged these little beings
along, without clothing, without shoes, on the sharp grasses of the
soil.

The chief of the caravan, that ferocious Ibn Hamis, who had interfered
in the struggle between Dick Sand and his overseer, watched this whole
troop, going backwards and forwards from the head to the foot of the
long column. If his agents and he troubled themselves but little about
the sufferings of their captives, they must reckon more seriously
either with the soldiers who claimed some additional rations, or with
the "pagazis" who wanted to halt. Thence discussions; often even an
exchange of brutality. The slaves suffered more from the overseers'
constant irritation. Nothing was heard but threats from one side, and
cries of grief from the other. Those who marched in the last ranks
treaded a soil that the first had stained with their blood.

Dick Sand's companions, always carefully kept in front of the convoy,
could have no communication with him. They advanced in file, the neck
held in the heavy fork, which did not permit a single head-movement.
The whips did not spare them any more than their sad companions in
misfortune.

Bat, coupled with his father, marched before him, taxing his ingenuity
not to shake the fork, choosing the best places to step on, because
old Tom must pass after him. From time to time, when the overseer was
a little behind, he uttered various words of encouragement, some of
which reached Tom. He even tried to retard his march, if he felt that
Tom was getting tired. It was suffering, for this good son to be
unable to turn his head towards his good father, whom he loved.
Doubtless, Tom had the satisfaction of seeing his son; however, he
paid dear for it. How many times great tears flowed from his eyes when
the overseer's whip fell upon Bat! It was a worse punishment than if
it had fallen on his own flesh.

Austin and Acteon marched a few steps behind, tied to each other, and
brutally treated every moment. Ah, how they envied Hercules's fate!
Whatever were the dangers that threatened the latter in that savage
country, he could at least use his strength and defend his life.

During the first moments of their captivity, old Tom had finally made
known the whole truth to his companions. They had learned from him, to
their profound astonishment, that they were in Africa; that Negoro's
and Harris's double treachery had first thrown them there, and then
led them away, and that no pity was to be expected from their masters.

Nan was not better treated. She made part of a group of women who
occupied the middle of the convoy. They had chained her with a young
mother of two children, one at the breast, the other aged three years,
who walked with difficulty. Nan, moved with pity, had burdened herself
with the little creature, and the poor slave had thanked her by a
tear. Nan then carried the infant, at the same time, sparing her the
fatigue, to which she would have yielded, and the blows the overseer
would have given her. But it was a heavy burden for old Nan. She felt
that her strength would soon fail her, and then she thought of little
Jack. She pictured him to herself in his mother's arms. Sickness had
wasted him very much, but he must be still heavy for Mrs. Weldon's
weakened arms. Where was she? What would become of her? Would her old
servant ever see her again?

Dick Sand had been placed almost in the rear of the convoy. He could
neither perceive Tom, nor his companions, nor Nan. The head of the
long caravan was only visible to him when it was crossing some plain.
He walked, a prey, to the saddest thoughts, from which the agents'
cries hardly drew his attention. He neither thought of himself, nor
the fatigues he must still support, nor of the tortures probably
reserved for him by Negoro. He only thought of Mrs. Weldon. In rain
he sought on the ground, on the brambles by the paths, on the lower
branches of the trees, to find some trace of her passage. She could
not have taken another road, if, as everything indicated, they
were leading her to Kazounde. What would he not give to find some
indication of her march to the destination where they themselves were
being led!