Jules Verne (46 page)

Besides, he was a superb man—a black of the finest water. He was at
least six feet high, and must be extraordinarily strong. This prestige
already influenced the crowd.

Generally, the sorcerers were in bands of three, four, or five when
they went through the villages, and a certain number of acolytes, or
companions, made their cortege. This magician was alone. His whole
breast was zebraed with white marks, done with pipe clay. The lower
part of his body disappeared under an ample skirt of grass stuff, the
"train" of which would not have disgraced a modern elegant. A collar
of birds' skulls was round his neck; on his head was a sort of
leathern helmet, with plumes ornamented with pearls; around his loins
a copper belt, to which hung several hundred bells, noisier than the
sonorous harness of a Spanish mule: thus this magnificent specimen of
the corporation of native wizards was dressed.

All the material of his art was comprised in a kind of basket, of
which a calebash formed the bottom, and which was filled with shells,
amulets, little wooden idols, and other fetiches, plus a notable
quantity of dung balls, important accessories to the incantations and
divinatory practises of the center of Africa.

One peculiarity was soon discovered by the crowd. This magician was
dumb. But this infirmity could only increase the consideration with
which they were disposed to surround him. He only made a guttural
sound, low and languid, which had no signification. The more reason
for being well skilled in the mysteries of witchcraft.

The magician first made the tour of the great place, executing a
kind of dance which put in motion all his chime of bells. The crowd
followed, imitating his movements—it might be said, as a troop of
monkeys following a gigantic, four-handed animal. Then, suddenly, the
sorcerer, treading the principal street of Kazounde, went toward the
royal residence.

As soon as Queen Moini had been informed of the arrival of the new
wizard, she appeared, followed by her courtiers.

The magician bowed to the ground, and lifted up his head again,
showing his superb height. His arms were then extended toward the sky,
which was rapidly furrowed by masses of clouds. The sorcerer pointed
to those clouds with his hand; he imitated their movements in an
animated pantomime. He showed them fleeing to the west, but returning
to the east by a rotary movement that no power could stop.

Then, suddenly, to the great surprise of the town and the court, this
sorcerer took the redoubtable sovereign of Kazounde by the hand. A
few courtiers wished to oppose this act, which was contrary to all
etiquette; but the strong magician, seizing the nearest by the nape of
the neck, sent him staggering fifteen paces off.

The queen did not appear to disapprove of this proud manner of acting.
A sort of grimace, which ought to be a smile, was addressed to the
wizard, who drew the queen on with rapid steps, while the crowd rushed
after him.

This time it was toward Alvez's establishment that the sorcerer
directed his steps. He soon reached the door, which was shut. A
simple blow from his shoulder threw it to the ground, and he led the
conquered queen into the interior of the factory.

The trader, his soldiers and his slaves, ran to punish the daring
being who took it upon himself to throw down doors without waiting for
them to be opened to him. Suddenly, seeing that their sovereign did
not protest, they stood still, in a respectful attitude.

No doubt Alvez was about to ask the queen why he was honored by her
visit, but the magician did not give him time. Making the crowd recede
so as to leave a large space free around him, he recommenced his
pantomime with still greater animation. He pointed to the clouds, he
threatened them, he exorcised them; he made a sign as if he could
first stop them, and then scatter them. His enormous cheeks were
puffed out, and he blew on this mass of heavy vapors as if he had the
strength to disperse them. Then, standing upright, he seemed to intend
stopping them in their course, and one would have said that, owing to
his gigantic height, he could have seized them.

The superstitious Moini, "overcome" by the acting of this tall
comedian, could no longer control herself. Cries escaped her. She
raved in her turn, and instinctively repeated the magician's gestures.
The courtiers and the crowd followed her example, and the mute's
guttural sounds were lost amid those songs; cries, and yells which the
native language furnishes with so much prodigality.

Did the clouds cease to rise on the eastern horizon and veil the
tropical sun? Did they vanish before the exorcisms of this new wizard?
No. And just at this moment, when the queen and her people imagined
that they had appeased the evil spirits that had watered them with so
many showers, the sky, somewhat clear since daybreak, became darker
than ever. Large drops of rain fell pattering on the ground.

Then a sudden change took place in the crowd. They then saw that this
sorcerer was worth no more than the others. The queen's brows were
frowning. They understood that he at least was in danger of losing
his ears. The natives had contracted the circle around him; fists
threatened him, and they were about to punish him, when an unforeseen
incident changed the object of their evil intentions.

The magician, who overlooked the whole yelling crowd, stretched his
arms toward one spot in the enclosure. The gesture was so imperious
that all turned to look at it.

Mrs. Weldon and little Jack, attracted by the noise and the clamor,
had just left their hut. The magician, with an angry gesture, had
pointed to them with his left hand, while his right was raised toward
the sky.

They! it was they'! It was this white woman—it was her child—they
were causing all this evil. They had brought these clouds from their
rainy country, to inundate the territories of Kazounde.

It was at once understood. Queen Moini, pointing to Mrs. Weldon, made
a threatening gesture. The natives, uttering still more terrible
cries, rushed toward her.

Mrs. Weldon thought herself lost, and clasping her son in her arms,
she stood motionless as a statue before this over-excited crowd.

The magician went toward her. The natives stood aside in the presence
of this wizard, who, with the cause of the evil, seemed to have found
the remedy.

The trader, Alvez, knowing that the life of the prisoner was precious,
now approached, not being sure of what he ought to do.

The magician had seized little Jack, and snatching him from his
mother's arms, he held him toward the sky. It seemed as if he were
about to dash the child to the earth, so as to appease the gods.

With a terrible cry, Mrs. Weldon fell to the ground insensible.

But the magician, after having made a sign to the queen, which no
doubt reassured her as to his intentions, raised the unhappy mother,
and while the crowd, completely subdued, parted to give him space, he
carried her away with her child.

Alvez was furious, not expecting this result. After having lost one
of the three prisoners, to see the prize confided to his care thus
escape, and, with the prize, the large bribe promised him by Negoro!
Never! not if the whole territory of Kazounde were submerged by a new
deluge! He tried to oppose this abduction.

The natives now began to mutter against him. The queen had him seized
by her guards, and, knowing what it might cost him, the trader was
forced to keep quiet, while cursing the stupid credulity of Queen
Moini's subjects.

The savages, in fact, expected to see the clouds disappear with those
who had brought them, and they did not doubt that the magician would
destroy the scourge, from which they suffered so much, in the blood of
the strangers.

Meanwhile, the magician carried off his victims as a lion would a
couple of kids which did not satisfy his powerful appetite. Little
Jack was terrified, his mother was unconscious. The crowd, roused to
the highest degree of fury, escorted the magician with yells; but
he left the enclosure, crossed Kazounde, and reentered the forest,
walking nearly three miles, without resting for a moment. Finally he
was alone, the natives having understood that he did not wish to be
followed. He arrived at the bank of a river, whose rapid current
flowed toward the north.

There, at the end of a large opening, behind the long, drooping
branches of a thicket which hid the steep bank, was moored a canoe,
covered by a sort of thatch.

The magician lowered his double burden into the boat, and following
himself, shoved out from the bank, and the current rapidly carried
them down the stream. The next minute he said, in a very distinct
voice:

"Captain, here are Mrs. Weldon and little Jack; I present them to you.
Forward. And may all the clouds in heaven fall on those idiots of
Kazounde!"

It was Hercules, not easily recognized in his magician's attire, who
was speaking thus, and it was Dick Sand whom he was addressing—Dick
Sand, still feeble enough, to lean on Cousin Benedict, near whom Dingo
was lying.

Mrs. Weldon, who had regained consciousness, could only pronounce
these words:

"You! Dick! You!"

The young novice rose, but already Mrs. Weldon was pressing him in her
arms, and Jack was lavishing caresses on him.

"My friend Dick! my friend Dick!" repeated the little boy. Then,
turning to Hercules: "And I," he added, "I did not know you!"

"Hey! what a disguise!" replied Hercules, rubbing his breast to efface
the variety of colors that striped it.

"You were too ugly!" said little Jack.

"Bless me! I was the devil, and the devil is not handsome."

"Hercules!" said Mrs. Weldon, holding out her hand to the brave black.

"He has delivered you," added Dick Sand, "as he has saved me, though
he will not allow it."

"Saved! saved! We are not saved yet!" replied Hercules. "And besides,
without Mr. Benedict, who came to tell us where you were, Mrs. Weldon,
we could not have done anything."

In fact, it was Hercules who, five days before, had jumped upon the
savant at the moment when, having been led two miles from the factory,
the latter was running in pursuit of his precious manticore. Without
this incident, neither Dick Sand nor the black would have known Mrs.
Weldon's retreat, and Hercules would not have ventured to Kazounde in
a magician's dress.

While the boat drifted with rapidity in this narrow part of the river,
Hercules related what had passed since his flight from the camp on
the Coanza; how, without being seen, he had followed the
kitanda
in
which Mrs. Weldon and her son were; how he had found Dingo wounded;
how the two had arrived in the neighborhood of Kazounde; how a note
from Hercules, carried by the dog, told Dick Sand what had become of
Mrs. Weldon; how, after the unexpected arrival of Cousin Benedict,
he had vainly tried to make his way into the factory, more carefully
guarded than ever; how, at last, he had found this opportunity of
snatching the prisoner from that horrible Jose-Antonio Alvez. Now,
this opportunity had offered itself that same day. A
mgannga
, or
magician, on his witchcraft circuit, that celebrated magician so
impatiently expected, was passing through the forest in which Hercules
roamed every night, watching, waiting, ready for anything.

To spring upon the magician, despoil him of his baggage, and of his
magician's vestments, to fasten him to the foot of a tree with liane
knots that the Davenports themselves could not have untied, to paint
his body, taking the sorcerer's for a model, and to act out his
character in charming and controlling the rains, had been the work
of several hours. Still, the incredible credulity of the natives was
necessary for his success.

During this recital, given rapidly by Hercules, nothing concerning
Dick Sand had been mentioned.

"And you, Dick!" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"I, Mrs. Weldon!" replied the young man. "I can tell you nothing. My
last thought was for you, for Jack! I tried in vain to break the cords
that fastened me to the stake. The water rose over my head. I lost
consciousness. When I came to myself, I was sheltered in a hole,
concealed by the papyrus of this bank, and Hercules was on his knees
beside me, lavishing his care upon me."

"Well! that is because I am a physician," replied Hercules; "a
diviner, a sorcerer, a magician, a fortuneteller!"

"Hercules," said Mrs. Weldon, "tell me, how did you save Dick Sand?"

"Did I do it, Mrs. Weldon?" replied Hercules; "Might not the current
have broken the stake to which our captain was tied, and in the middle
of the night, carried him half-dead on this beam, to the place where
I received him? Besides, in the darkness, there was no difficulty in
gliding among the victims that carpeted the ditch, waiting for the
bursting of the dam, diving under water, and, with a little strength,
pulling up our captain and the stake to which these scoundrels had
bound him! There was nothing very extraordinary in all that! The
first-comer could have done as much. Mr. Benedict himself, or even
Dingo! In fact, might it not have been Dingo?"

A yelping was heard; and Jack, taking hold of the dog's large head,
gave him several little friendly taps.

"Dingo," he asked, "did you save our friend Dick?"

At the same time he turned the dog's head from right to left.

"He says, no, Hercules!" said Jack. "You see that it was not he.
Dingo, did Hercules save our captain?"

The little boy forced Dingo's good head to move up and down, five or
six times.

"He says, yes, Hercules! he says, yes!" cried little Jack. "You see
then that it was you!"

"Friend Dingo," replied Hercules, caressing the dog, "that is wrong.
You promised me not to betray me."