Black Ivory

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 niggers.”

Disco assumed 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 ship 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 niggers.”

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, assuming 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.

“So me do,” replied Antonio quickly; “but dat no Portigeese—dat Spanaish, me ’spose.”

“What can you speak, then?” demanded Harold sternly.

“Portigeese, Arbik, Fengleesh, an’ two, tree, four, nigger lungwiches.”

It was very obvious that, whatever Antonio spoke, he spoke nothing correctly, but that was of no importance so long as the man could make himself understood. Harold therefore asked if he would join his party as interpreter, but Antonio shook his head.

“Why not man—why not?” asked Harold impatiently, for he became anxious to secure him, just in proportion as he evinced disinclination to engage.

“Speak up, Antonio, don’t be ashamed; you’ve no need to,” said Disco. “The fact is, sir, Antonio tells me that he has just bin married, an’ he don’t want to leave his wife.”

“Very natural,” observed Harold. “How long is it since you were married?”

“Von veek since I did bought her.”

“Bought her!” exclaimed Disco, with a broad grin; “may I ax wot ye paid for her?”

“Paid!” exclaimed the man, starting and opening his eyes very wide, as if the contemplation of the vast sum were too much for him; “lat me zee—me pay me vife’s pairyints sixteen yard ob cottin clothe, an’ for me’s hut four yard morer.”

“Ye don’t say that?” exclaimed Disco, with an extended grin. “Is she young an’ good-lookin’?”

“Yonge!” replied Antonio; “yis, ver’ yonge; not mush more dan baby, an’ exiquitely bootiful.”

“Then, my good feller,” said Disco, with a laugh, “the sooner you leave her the better. A week is a long time, an’ absence, you know, as the old song says, makes the heart grow fonder; besides, Mr Seadrift will give you enough to buy a dozen wives, if ’ee want ’em.”

“Yes, I’ll pay you well,” said Harold; “that is, if you prove to be a good interpreter.”

Antonio pricked up his ears at this.

“How mush vill ’oo gif?” he asked.

“Well, let me think; I shall probably be away three or four months. What would you say, Antonio, to twenty yards of cotton cloth a month, and a gun into the bargain at the end, if you do your work well?”

The pleased expression of Antonio’s face could not have been greater had he been offered twenty pounds sterling a month. The reader may estimate the value of this magnificent offer when we say that a yard of cotton cloth was at that time sevenpence-halfpenny, so that Antonio’s valuable services were obtained for about 12 shillings, 6 pence a month, and a gun which cost Harold less than twenty shillings in Zanzibar.

We may remark here that Antonio afterwards proved to be a stout, able, willing man, and a faithful servant, although a most arrant coward.

From this time Harold’s difficulties in regard to men vanished. With Antonio’s able assistance nine were procured, stout, young, able-bodied fellows they were, and all more or less naked. Two of these were half-caste brothers, named respectively José and Oliveira; two were half-wild negroes of the Somali tribe named Nakoda and Conda; three were negroes of the Makololo tribe, who had accompanied Dr Livingstone on his journey from the far interior of Africa to the East Coast, and were named respectively Jumbo, Zombo, and Masiko; and finally two, named Songolo and Mabruki, were free negroes of Quillimane. Thus the whole band, including Disco and the leader, formed a goodly company of twelve stout men.

Of course Harold armed them all with guns and knives. Himself and Disco carried Enfield rifles; besides which, Harold took with him a spare rifle of heavy calibre, carrying large balls, mingled with tin to harden them. This latter was intended for large game. Landing near the East Luavo mouth of the Zambesi, our hero was fortunate enough to procure two serviceable canoes, into which he transferred himself, his men, and his goods, and, bidding adieu to the Arab skipper of the dhow, commenced his journey into the interior of Africa.

Chapter Five.

In which the Travellers Enjoy Themselves Extremely, and Disco Lillihammer Sees Several Astonishing Sights

Behold our travellers, then, fairly embarked on the waters of the great African river Zambesi, in two canoes, one of which is commanded by Harold Seadrift, the other by Disco Lillihammer.

Of course these enterprising chiefs were modest enough at first to allow two of the Makololo men, Jumbo and Zombo, to wield the steering-oars, but after a few days’ practice they became sufficiently expert, as Disco said, to take the helm, except when strong currents rendered the navigation difficult, or when the weather became so “piping hot” that none but men clad in black skins could work.

We must however guard the reader here from supposing that it is always piping hot in Africa. There are occasional days when the air may be styled lukewarm, when the sky is serene, and when all nature seems joyful and enjoyable,—days in which a man opens his mouth wide and swallows down the atmosphere; when he feels his health and strength, and rejoices in them, and when, if he be not an infidel, he also feels a sensation of gratitude to the Giver of all good.

On such a day, soon after entering the East Luavo mouth of the Zambesi, the explorers, for such we may almost venture to style them, ascended the smooth stream close to the left bank, Harold leading, Disco following closely in his wake.

The men rowed gently, as if they enjoyed the sweet calm of early morning, and were unwilling to disturb the innumerable flocks of wild-fowl that chuckled among the reeds and sedges everywhere. Harold sat in the stern, leaning back, and only dipping the steering-oar lazily now and then to keep the canoe from running on the bank, or plunging into a forest of gigantic rushes. Disco, having resolved to solace himself with a whiff of his darling pipe, had resigned “the helm” to Jumbo, and laid himself in a position of comfort which admitted of his resting his head on the gunwale in such a manner that, out of the corners of his eyes, he could gaze down into the water.

The part of the river they had reached was so perfectly still that every cloud in the sky, every mangrove, root and spray, and every bending bulrush, was perfectly reproduced in the reflected world below. Plaintive cries of wild-fowl formed appropriate melody, to which chattering groups of monkeys and croaking bull-frogs contributed a fine tenor and bass.

“Hallo, Disco!” exclaimed Harold in a subdued key, looking over his shoulder.

“Ay, ay, sir?” sighed the seaman, without moving his position.

“Range up alongside; I want to speak to you.”

“Ay, ay, sir.—Jumbo, you black-faced villain, d’ee hear that? give way and go ’longside.”

Good-humoured Jumbo spoke very little English, but had come to understand a good deal during his travels with Dr Livingstone. He wrinkled his visage and showed his brilliant teeth on receiving the order. Muttering a word to the men, and giving a vigorous stroke, he shot up alongside of the leader’s canoe.

“You seem comfortable,” said Harold, with a laugh, as Disco’s vast visage appeared at his elbow.

“I is.”

“Isn’t this jolly?” continued Harold.

“No, sir, ’taint.”

“Why, what d’you mean?”