Part 8 (1/2)
Only once on the voyage did they fall in with a British cruiser, which ordered them to lay-to and overhauled them, but on the papers and everything being found correct, they were permitted to pursue their voyage.
The mouths of the river Zambesi are numerous; extending over more than ninety miles of the coast. On the banks of the northern mouth stands-- it would be more appropriate to say festers--the dirty little Portuguese town of Quillimane. Its site is low, muddy, fever-haunted, and swarming with mosquitoes. No man in his senses would have built a village thereon were it not for the facilities afforded for slaving. At spring or flood tides the bar may be safely crossed by sailing vessels, but, being far from land, it is always dangerous for boats.
Here, then, Harold and Disco landed, and remained for some time for the purpose of engaging men. Appearing in the character of independent travellers, they were received with some degree of hospitality by the princ.i.p.al inhabitants. Had they gone there as simple and legitimate traders, every possible difficulty would have been thrown in their way, because the worthy people, from the Governor downwards, flourished,--or festered,--by means of the slave-trade, and legitimate commerce is everywhere found to be destructive to the slave-trade.
Dr Livingstone and others tell us that thousands upon thousands of negroes have, of late years, gone out from Quillimane into slavery under the convenient t.i.tle of ”free emigrants,” their freedom being not quite equal to that of a carter's horse, for while that animal, although enslaved, is usually well fed, the human animal is kept on rather low diet lest his spirit should rouse him to deeds of desperate violence against his masters. All agricultural enterprise is also effectually discouraged here. When a man wants to visit his country farm he has to purchase a permit from the Governor. If he wishes to go up the river to the Portuguese towns of Senna or Tette, a pa.s.s must be purchased from the Governor. In fact it would weary the reader were we to enumerate the various modes in which every effort of man to act naturally, legitimately, or progressively, is hampered, unless his business be the buying and selling of human beings.
At first Harold experienced great difficulty in procuring men. The master of the trading dhow in which he sailed from Zanzibar intended to remain as short a time as possible at Quillimane, purposing to visit ports further south, and as Harold had made up his mind not to enter the Zambesi by the Quillimane mouth, but to proceed in the dhow to one of the southern mouths, he felt tempted to give up the idea of procuring men until he had gone further south.
”You see, Disco,” said he, in a somewhat disconsolate tone, ”it won't do to let this dhow start without us, because I want to get down to the East Luavo mouth of this river, that being the mouth which was lately discovered and entered by Dr Livingstone; but I'm not sure that we can procure men or canoes there, and our Arab skipper either can't or won't enlighten me.”
”Ah!” observed Disco, with a knowing look, ”he won't--that's where it is, sir. I've not a spark o' belief in that man, or in any Arab on the coast. He's a slaver in disguise, he is, an' so's every mother's son of 'em.”
”Well,” continued Harold, ”if we must start without them and take our chance, we must; there is no escaping from the inevitable; nevertheless we must exert ourselves _to-day_, because the dhow does not sail till to-morrow evening, and there is no saying what luck may attend our efforts before that time. Perseverance, you know, is the only sure method of conquering difficulties.”
”That's so,” said Disco; ”them's my sentiments 'xactly. Never say die-- Stick at nothing--Nail yer colours to the mast: them's the mottoes that I goes in for--always s'posin' that you're in the right.”
”But what if you're in the wrong, and the colours are nailed?” asked Harold, with a smile.
”W'y then, sir, of course I'd have to tear 'em down.”
”So that perhaps, it would be better not to nail them at all, unless you're very sure--eh?”
”Oh, of _course_, sir,” replied Disco, with solemn emphasis. ”You don't suppose, sir, that I would nail 'em to the mast except I was sure, wery sure, that I wos right? But, as you wos a sayin', sir, about the gittin' of them 'ere men.”
Disco had an easy way of changing a subject when he felt that he was getting out of his depth.
”Well, to return to that. The fact is, I would not mind the men, for it's likely that men of some sort will turn up somewhere, but I am very anxious about an interpreter. Without an interpreter we shall get on badly, I fear, for I can only speak French, besides a very little Latin and Greek, none of which languages will avail much among n.i.g.g.e.rs.”
Disco a.s.sumed a severely thoughtful expression of countenance.
”That's true,” he said, placing his right fist argumentatively in his left palm, ”and I'm afeard I can't help you there, sir. If it wos to steer a s.h.i.+p or pull a oar or man the fore-tops'l yard in a gale o'
wind, or anything else in the seafarin' line, Disco Lillihammer's your man, but I couldn't come a furrin' lingo at no price. I knows nothin'
but my mother tongue,--nevertheless, though I says it that shouldn't, I does profess to be somewhat of a dab at that. Once upon a time I spent six weeks in Dublin, an' havin' a quick ear for moosic, I soon managed to get up a strong dash o' the brogue; but p'raps that wouldn't go far with the n.i.g.g.e.rs.”
About two hours after the above conversation, while Harold Seadrift was walking on the beach, he observed his faithful ally in the distance grasping a short thickset man by the arm, and endeavouring to induce him to accompany him, with a degree of energy that fell little short of main force. The man was evidently unwilling.
As the pair drew nearer, Harold overheard Disco's persuasive voice:--”Come now, Antonio, don't be a fool; it's the best service you could enter. Good pay and hard work, and all the grub that's goin'-- what could a man want more? It's true there's no grog, but we don't need that in a climate where you've only got to go out in the sun without yer hat an' you'll be as good as drunk in ten minutes, any day.”
”No, no, not possibil,” remonstrated the man, whose swarthy visage betrayed a mixture of cunning, fun, and annoyance. He was obviously a half-caste of the lowest type, but with more pretensions to wealth than many of his fellows, inasmuch as he wore, besides his loin-cloth, a white cotton shooting-coat, very much soiled, beneath the tails of which his thin black legs protruded ridiculously.
”Here you are, sir,” cried Disco, as he came up; ”here's the man for lingo: knows the native talkee, as well as Portuguese, English, Arabic, and anything else you like, as far as I know. Antonio's his name.
Come, sir, try him with Greek, or somethin' o' that sort!”
Harold had much ado to restrain a smile, but, a.s.suming a grave aspect, he addressed the man in French, while Disco listened with a look of profound respect and admiration.
”W'y, wot's wrong with 'ee, man,” exclaimed Disco, on observing the blank look of Antonio's countenance; ”don't 'ee savay that?”
”I thought you understood Portuguese?” said Harold in English.