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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6a22aa --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67530 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67530) diff --git a/old/67530-0.txt b/old/67530-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8502668..0000000 --- a/old/67530-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6117 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Modern Slavery, by Henry W. Nevinson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A Modern Slavery - -Author: Henry W. Nevinson - -Release Date: February 28, 2022 [eBook #67530] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN SLAVERY *** - - - - [Illustration: HENRY W. NEVINSON - Photograph by Elliott & Fry] - - - - - A MODERN SLAVERY - - BY - - HENRY W. NEVINSON - - ILLUSTRATED - - [Illustration] - - LONDON AND NEW YORK - HARPER _&_ BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - MCMVI - - - - - Copyright, 1906, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - _All rights reserved._ - - Published May, 1906. - - - - - DEDICATED TO - - MY SISTER - - MARIAN NEVINSON - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I. INTRODUCTORY 1 - - II. PLANTATION SLAVERY ON THE MAINLAND 19 - - III. DOMESTIC SLAVERY ON THE MAINLAND 40 - - IV. ON ROUTE TO THE SLAVE CENTRE 59 - - V. THE AGENTS OF THE SLAVE-TRADE 83 - - VI. THE WORST PART OF THE SLAVE ROUTE 104 - - VII. SAVAGES AND MISSIONS 126 - - VIII. THE SLAVE ROUTE TO THE COAST 149 - - IX. THE EXPORTATION OF SLAVES 168 - - X. LIFE OF SLAVES ON THE ISLANDS 187 - - INDEX 211 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - HENRY W. NEVINSON _Frontispiece_ - - MAP OF PORTUGUESE WEST AFRICA _Facing p._ 1 - - AN AFRICAN SWAMP ” 6 - - THE “KROOBOYS” WORKING A SHIP ALONG THE - COAST ” 16 - - NATIVES IN CHARACTERISTIC DRESS ” 22 - - PLANTER’S HOUSE ON AN ANGOLA ESTATE ” 34 - - FIRST MAIL-STEAMER AT LOBITO BAY ” 40 - - END OF THE GREAT SLAVE ROUTE AT KATUMBELLA ” 42 - - AWKWARD CROSSING ” 60 - - CATHOLIC MISSION AT CACONDA ” 78 - - CARRIERS ON THE MARCH ” 84 - - BIHÉAN MUSICIANS ” 96 - - CROSSING THE CUANZA ” 104 - - NATIVES BURNING GRASS FOR SALT ” 108 - - SKELETON OF SLAVE ON A PATH THROUGH THE - HUNGRY COUNTRY ” 112 - - A CHIBOKWE FORGE WHERE NATIVE SPEARS ARE - MADE ” 128 - - A CHIBOKWE WOMAN AND HER FETICHES ” 132 - - ON THE WAY TO THE COAST ” 150 - - CARRIERS’ REST-HUTS ” 160 - - “ALL DAY LONG THEY LIE ABOUT THE LOWER DECK” ” 176 - - THE WOMEN HARDLY STIRRED AS WE APPROACHED - SAN THOMÉ ” 182 - - LINED UP ON THE PIER AT SAN THOMÉ ” 184 - - SLAVE QUARTERS ON A PLANTATION ” 192 - - SLAVES WAITING FOR RATIONS ON SUNDAY ” 194 - - - - -PREFACE - - -The following chapters describe my journey in the Portuguese province -of Angola (West Central Africa), and in the Portuguese islands of San -Thomé and Principe, during the years 1904, and 1905. - -The journey was undertaken at the suggestion of the editor of _Harper’s -Monthly Magazine_, but in choosing this particular part of Africa for -investigation I was guided by the advice of the Aborigines Protection -Society and the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society in London, and -I wish to thank the secretaries of both these societies for their great -assistance. - -I also wish to thank the British and American residents on the mainland -and the islands--and especially the missionaries--for their unfailing -hospitality and help. As far as possible, I kept the object of my -journey from them, knowing that direct aid to my purpose might bring -trouble on them afterwards. Yet even when they knew or suspected the -truth, I found no difference in their kindliness, though I was often -tiresome with sickness, and their own provisions were often very short. - -The illustrations are from photographs taken by myself, but on the mail -slave-ship from Benguela to San Thomé I had the advantage of borrowing -a better camera than my own. - - LONDON, _March, 1906_. - - - - -[Illustration: MAP OF PORTUGUESE WEST AFRICA showing islands of -Principe and San Thomé To which slaves are deported from the interior] - - - - -A MODERN SLAVERY - - - - -I - -INTRODUCTORY - - -For miles on miles there is no break in the monotony of the scene. Even -when the air is calmest the surf falls heavily upon the long, thin -line of yellow beach, throwing its white foam far up the steep bank of -sand. And beyond the yellow beach runs the long, thin line of purple -forest--the beginning of that dark forest belt which stretches from -Sierra Leone through West and Central Africa to the lakes of the Nile. -Surf, beach, and forest--for two thousand miles that is all, except -where some great estuary makes a gap, or where the line of beach rises -to a low cliff, or where a few distant hills, leading up to Ashanti, -can be seen above the forest trees. - -It is not a cheerful part of the world--“the Coast.” Every prospect -does not please, nor is it only man that is vile. Man, in fact, is no -more vile than elsewhere; but if he is white he is very often dead. -We pass in succession the white man’s settlements, with their ancient -names so full of tragic and miserable history--Axim, Sekundi, Cape -Coast Castle, and Lagos. We see the old forts, built by Dutch and -Portuguese to protect their trade in ivory and gold and the souls of -men. They still gleam, white and cool as whitewash can make them, -among the modern erections of tin and iron that have a meaner birth. -And always, as we pass, some “old Coaster” will point to a drain or an -unfinished church, and say, “That was poor Anderson’s last bit.” And -always when we stop and the officials come off to the ship, drenched -by the surf in spite of the skill of native crews, who drive the -boats with rapid paddles, hissing sharply at every stroke to keep the -time--always the first news is of sickness and death. Its form is -brief: “Poor Smythe down--fever.” “Poor Cunliffe gone--black-water.” -“Poor Tompkinson scuppered--natives.” Every one says, “Sorry,” and -there’s no more to be said. - -It is not cheerful. The touch of fate is felt the more keenly because -the white people are so few. For the most part, they know one another, -at all events by classes. A soldier knows a soldier. Unless he is -very military, indeed, he knows the district commissioner, and other -officials as well. An official knows an official, and is quite on -speaking terms with the soldiers. A trader knows a trader, and ceases -to watch him with malignant jealousy when he dies. It is hard to -realize how few the white men are, scattered among the black swarms of -the natives. I believe that in the six-mile radius round Lagos (the -largest “white” town on the Coast) the whites could not muster one -hundred and fifty among the one hundred and forty thousand blacks. And -in the great walled city of Abeokuta, to which the bit of railway from -Lagos runs, among a black population of two hundred and five thousand, -the whites could hardly make up twenty all told. So that when one white -man disappears he leaves a more obvious gap than he would in a London -street, and any white man may win a three days’ fame by dying. - -Among white women, a loss is naturally still more obvious and -deplorable. Speaking generally, we may say the only white women on the -Coast are nurses and missionaries. A benevolent government forbids -soldiers and officials to bring their wives out. The reason given is -the deadly climate, though there are other reasons, and an exception -seems to be made in the case of a governor’s wife. She enjoys the -liberty of dying at her own discretion. But Accra, almost alone of the -Coast towns, boasts the presence of two or three English ladies, and I -have known men overjoyed at being ordered to appointments there. Not -that they were any more devoted to the society of ladies than we all -are, but they hoped for a better chance of surviving in a place where -ladies live. Vain hope; in spite of cliffs and clearings, in spite of -golf and polo, and ladies, too, Death counts his shadows at Accra much -the same as anywhere else. - -You never can tell. I once landed on a beach where it seemed that death -would be the only chance of comfort in the tedious hell. On either -hand the flat shore stretched away till it was lost in distance. Close -behind the beach the forest swamp began. Upon the narrow ridge nine -hideous houses stood in the sweltering heat, and that was all the -town. The sole occupation was an exchange of palm-oil for the deadly -spirit which profound knowledge of chemistry and superior technical -education have enabled the Germans to produce in a more poisonous -form than any other nation. The sole intellectual excitement was the -arrival of the steamers with gin, rum, and newspapers. Yet in that -desolation three European ladies were dwelling in apparent amity, and a -volatile little Frenchman, full of the joy of life, declared he would -not change that bit of beach--no, not for all the _cafés chantants_ of -his native Marseilles. “There is not one Commandment here!” he cried, -unconsciously imitating the poet of Mandalay; and I suppose there is -some comfort in having no Commandments, even where there is very little -chance of breaking any. - -The farther down the Coast you go the more melancholy is the scene. -The thin line of yellow beach disappears. The forest comes down into -the sea. The roots of the trees are never dry, and there is no firm -distinction of land and water. You have reached “the Rivers,” the delta -of the Niger, the Circle of the mangrove swamps, in which Dante would -have stuck the Arch-Traitor head downward if only he had visited this -part of the world. I gained my experience of the swamps early, but -it was thorough. It was about the third time I landed on the Coast. -Hearing that only a few miles away there was real solid ground where -strange beasts roamed, I determined to cut a path through the forest in -that direction. Engaging two powerful savages armed with “matchets,” -or short, heavy swords, I took the plunge from a wharf which had been -built with piles beside a river. At the first step I was up to my -knees in black sludge, the smell of which had been accumulating since -the glacial period. Perhaps the swamps are forming the coal-beds of a -remote future; but in that case I am glad I did not live at Newcastle -in a remote past. As in a coronation ode, there seemed no limit to the -depths of sinking. One’s only chance was to strike a submerged trunk -not yet quite rotten enough to count as mud. Sometimes it was possible -to cling to the stems or branches of standing trees, and swing over the -slime without sinking deep. It was possible, but unpleasant; for stems -and branches and twigs and fibres are generally covered with every -variety of spine and spike and hook. - -In a quarter of an hour we were as much cut off from the world as on -the central ocean. The air was dark with shadow, though the tree-tops -gleamed in brilliant sunshine far above our heads. Not a whisper of -breeze nor a breath of fresh air could reach us. We were stifled with -the smell. The sweat poured from us in the intolerable heat. Around us, -out of the black mire, rose the vast tree trunks, already rotting as -they grew, and between the trunks was woven a thick curtain of spiky -plants and of the long suckers by which the trees draw up an extra -supply of water--very unnecessarily, one would have thought. - -Through this undergrowth the natives, themselves often up to the middle -in slime, slowly hacked a way. They are always very patient of a -white man’s insanity. Now and then we came to a little clearing where -some big tree had fallen, rotten from bark to core. Or we came to a -“creek”--one of the innumerable little watercourses which intersect -the forest, and are the favorite haunt of the mud-fish, whose eyes are -prominent like a frog’s, and whose side fins have almost developed into -legs, so that, with the help of their tails, they can run over the -slime like lizards on the sand. But for them and the crocodiles and -innumerable hosts of ants and slugs, the lower depths of the mangrove -swamp contain few living things. Parrots and monkeys inhabit the -upper world where the sunlight reaches, and sometimes the deadly -stillness is broken by the cry of a hawk that has the flight of an owl -and fishes the creeks in the evening. Otherwise there is nothing but -decay and stench and creatures of the ooze. - -[Illustration: AN AFRICAN SWAMP] - -After struggling for hours and finding no change in the swamp and no -break in the trees, I gave up the hope of that rising ground, and -worked back to the main river. When at last I emerged, sopping with -sweat, black with slime, torn and bleeding from the thorns, I knew that -I had seen the worst that nature can do. I felt as though I had been -reforming the British War Office. - -It is worth while trying to realize the nature of these wet forests and -mangrove swamps, for they are the chief characteristic of “the Coast” -and especially of “the Rivers.” Not that the whole even of southern -Nigeria is swamp. Wherever the ground rises, the bush is dry. But from -a low cliff, like “The Hill” at Calabar, although in two directions you -may turn to solid ground where things will grow and man can live, you -look south and west over miles and miles of forest-covered swamp that -is hopeless for any human use. You realize then how vain is the chatter -about making the Coast healthy by draining the mangrove swamps. Until -the white man develops a new kind of blood and a new kind of inside, -the Coast will kill him. Till then we shall know the old Coaster -by the yellow and streaky pallor of a blood destroyed by fevers, by -a confused and uncertain memory, and by a puffiness that comes from -enfeebled muscle quite as often as from insatiable thirst. - -It is through swamps like these that those unheard-of “punitive -expeditions” of ours, with a white officer or two, a white sergeant -or two, and a handful of trusty Hausa men, have to fight their way, -carrying their Maxim and three-inch guns upon their heads. “I don’t -mind as long as the men don’t sink above the fork,” said the commandant -of one of them to me. And it is beside these swamps that the traders, -for many short-lived generations past, have planted their “factories.” - -The word “factory” points back to a time when the traders made the -palm-oil themselves. The natives make nearly the whole of it now and -bring it down the rivers in casks, but the “factories” keep their name, -though they are now little more than depots of exchange and retail -trade. Formerly they were made of the hulks of ships, anchored out in -the rivers, and fitted up as houses and stores. A few of the hulks -still remain, but of late years the traders have chosen the firmest -piece of “beach” they could find, or else have created a “beach” by -driving piles into the slime, and on these shaky and unwholesome -platforms have erected dwelling-houses with big verandas, a series of -sheds for the stores, and a large barn for the shop. Here the “agent” -(or sometimes the owner of the business) spends his life, with one or -two white assistants, a body of native “boys” as porters and boatmen, -and usually a native woman, who in the end returns to her tribe and -hands over her earnings in cash or goods to her chief. - -The agent’s working-day lasts from sunrise to sunset, except for the -two hours at noon consecrated to “chop” and tranquillity. In the -evening, sometimes he gambles, sometimes he drinks, but, as a rule, -he goes to bed. Most factories are isolated in the river or swamp, -and they are pervaded by a loneliness that can be felt. The agent’s -work is an exchange of goods, generally on a large scale. In return -for casks of oil and bags of “kernels,” he supplies the natives with -cotton cloth, spirits, gunpowder, and salt, or from his retail store he -sells cheap clothing, looking-glasses, clocks, knives, lamps, tinned -food, and all the furniture, ornaments, and pictures which, being too -atrocious even for English suburbs and provincial towns, may roughly be -described as Colonial. - -From the French coasts, in spite of the free-trade agreement of 1898, -the British trader is now almost entirely excluded. On the Ivory Coast, -Dahomey, French Congo, and the other pieces of territory which connect -the enormous African possessions of France with the sea, you will -hardly find a British factory left, though in one or two cases the -skill and perseverance of an agent may just keep an old firm going. In -the German Cameroons, British houses still do rather more than half the -trade, but their existence is continually threatened. In Portuguese -Angola one or two British factories cling to their old ground in hopes -that times may change. In the towns of the Lower Congo the British -firms still keep open their stores and shops; but the well-known policy -of the royal rubber merchant, who bears on his shield a severed hand -sable, has killed all real trade above Stanley Pool. In spite of all -protests and regulations about the “open door,” it is only in British -territory that a British trader can count upon holding his own. It may -be said that, considering the sort of stuff the British trader now -sells, this is a matter of great indifference to the world. That may be -so. But it is not a matter of indifference to the British trader, and, -in reality, it is ultimately for his sake alone that our possessions -in West Africa are held. Ultimately it is all a question of soap and -candles. - -We need not forget the growing trade in mahogany and the growing trade -in cotton. We may take account of gold, ivory, gums, and kola, besides -the minor trades in fruits, yams, red peppers, millet, and the beans -and grains and leaves which make a native market so enlivening to a -botanist. But, after all, palm-oil and kernels are the things that -count, and palm-oil and kernels come to soap and candles in the end. -It is because our dark and dirty little island needs such quantities -of soap and candles that we have extended the blessings of European -civilization to the Gold Coast and the Niger, and beside the lagoons of -Lagos and the rivers of Calabar have placed our barracks, hospitals, -mad-houses, and prisons. It is for this that district commissioners -hold their courts of British justice and officials above suspicion -improve the perspiring hour by adding up sums. For this the natives -trim the forest into golf-links. For this devoted teachers instruct the -Fantee boys and girls in the length of Irish rivers and the order of -Napoleon’s campaigns. For this the director of public works dies at his -drain and the officer at a palisade gets an iron slug in his stomach. -For this the bugles of England blow at Sokoto, and the little plots of -white crosses stand conspicuous at every clearing. - -That is the ancestral British way of doing things. It is for the sake -of the trade that the whole affair is ostensibly undertaken and carried -on. Yet the officer and the official up on “The Hill” quietly ignore -the trader at the foot, and are dimly conscious of very different aims. -The trader’s very existence depends upon the skill and industry of the -natives. Yet the trader quietly ignores the native, or speaks of him -only as a lazy swine who ought to be enslaved as much as possible. And -all the time the trader’s own government is administering a singularly -equal justice, and has, within the last three years, declared slavery -of every kind at an end forever. - -In the midst of all such contradictions, what is to be the real -relation of the white races to the black races? That is the ultimate -problem of Africa. We need not think it has been settled by a century’s -noble enthusiasm about the Rights of Man and Equality in the sight -of God. Outside a very small and diminishing circle in England and -America, phrases of that kind have lost their influence, and for the -men who control the destinies of Africa they have no meaning whatever. -Neither have they any meaning for the native. He knows perfectly well -that the white people do not believe them. - -The whole problem is still before us, as urgent and as uncertain as -it has ever been. It is not solved. What seemed a solution is already -obsolete. The problem will have to be worked through again from the -start. Some of the factors have changed a little. Laws and regulations -have been altered. New and respectable names have been invented. But -the real issue has hardly changed at all. It has become a part of the -world-wide issue of capital, but the question of African slavery still -abides. - -We may, of course, draw distinctions. The old-fashioned export of human -beings as a reputable and staple industry, on a level with the export -of palm-oil, has disappeared from the Coast. Its old headquarters were -at Lagos; and scattered about that district and in Nigeria and up the -Congo one can still see the remains of the old barracoons, where the -slaves were herded for sale or shipment. In passing up the rivers you -may suddenly come upon a large, square clearing. It is overgrown now, -but the bush is not so high and thick as the surrounding forest, and -palms take the place of the mangrove-trees. Sometimes a little Ju-ju -house is built by the water’s edge, with fetiches inside; and perhaps -the natives have placed it there with some dim sense of expiation. -For the clearing is the site of an old barracoon, and misery has -consecrated the soil. Such things leave a perpetual heritage of woe. -The English and the Portuguese were the largest slave-traders upon the -Coast, and it is their descendants who are still paying the heaviest -penalty. But that ancient kind of slave-trade may for the present be -set aside. The British gun-boats have made it so difficult and so -unlucrative that slavery has been driven to take subtler forms, against -which gun-boats have hitherto been powerless. - -We may draw another distinction still. Quite different from the -plantation slavery under European control, for the profit of European -capitalists, is the domestic slavery that has always been practised -among the natives themselves. Legally, this form of slavery was -abolished in Nigeria by a proclamation of 1901, but it still exists -in spite of the law, and is likely to exist for many years, even in -British possessions. It is commonly spoken of as domestic slavery, but -perhaps tribal slavery would be the better word. Or the slave might be -compared to the serf of feudal times. He is nominally the property of -the chief, and may be compelled to give rather more than half his days -to work for the tribe. Even under the Nigerian enactment, he cannot -leave his district without the chief’s consent, and he must continue to -contribute something to the support of the family. But in most cases a -slave may purchase his freedom if he wishes, and it frequently happens -that a slave becomes a chief himself and holds slaves on his own -account. - -It is one of those instances in which law is ahead of public custom. -Most of the existing domestic slaves do not wish for further freedom, -for if their bond to the chief were destroyed, they would lose the -protection of the tribe. They would be friendless and outcast, with -no home, no claim, and no appeal. “Soon be head off,” said a native, -in trying to explain the dangers of sudden freedom. At Calabar I came -across a peculiar instance. Some Scottish missionaries had carefully -trained up a native youth to work with them at a mission. They had -taught him the height of Chimborazo, the cost of papering a room, -leaving out the fireplace, and the other things which we call education -because we can teach nothing else. They had even taught him the -intricacies of Scottish theology. But just as he was ready primed for -the ministry, an old native stepped in and said: “No; he is my slave. -I beg to thank you for educating him so admirably. But he seems to me -better suited for the government service than for the cure of souls. So -he shall enter a government office and comfort my declining years with -half his income.” - -The elderly native had himself been educated by the mission, and that -added a certain irony to his claim. When I told the acting governor -of the case, he thought such a thing could not happen in these days, -because the youth could have appealed to the district commissioner, -and the old man’s claim would have been disallowed at law. That may -be so; and yet I have not the least doubt that the account I received -was true. Law was in advance of custom, that was all, and the people -followed custom, as people always do. - -Even where there is no question of slave-ownership, the power of the -chiefs is often despotic. If a chief covets a particularly nice canoe, -he can purchase it by compelling his wives and children to work for -the owner during so many days. Or take the familiar instance of the -“Krooboys.” The Kroo coast is nominally part of Liberia, but as the -Liberian government is only a fit subject for comic opera, the Kroo -people remain about the freest and happiest in Africa. Their industry -is to work the cargo of steamers that go down the Coast. They get a -shilling a day and “chop,” and the only condition they make is to -return to “we country” within a year at furthest. Before the steamer -stops off the Coast and sounds her hooter the sea is covered with -canoes. The captain sends word to the chief of the nearest village -that he wants, say, fifty “boys.” After two or three hours of excited -palaver on shore, the chief selects fifty boys, and they are sent on -board under a headman. When they return, they give the chief a share of -their earnings as a tribute for his care of the tribe and village in -their absence. This is a kind of feudalism, but it has nothing to do -with slavery, especially as there is a keen competition among the boys -to serve. When a woman who has been hired as a white man’s concubine -is compelled to surrender her earnings to the chief, we may call it -a survival of tribal slavery, or of the patriarchal system, if you -will. But when, as happens, for instance, in Mozambique, the agents -of capitalists bribe the chiefs to force laborers to the Transvaal -mines, whether they wish to go or not, we may disguise the truth as -we like under talk about “the dignity of labor” and “the value of -discipline,” but, as a matter of fact, we are on the downward slope -to the new slavery. It is easy to see how one system may become merged -into the other without any very obvious breach of native custom. But, -nevertheless, the distinction is profound. As Mr. Morel has said in his -admirable book on _The Affairs of West Africa_, between the domestic -servitude of Nigeria and plantation slavery under European supervision -there is all the difference in the world. The object of the present -series of sketches is to show, by one particular instance, the method -under which this plantation slavery is now being carried on, and the -lengths to which it is likely to develop. - -[Illustration: THE “KROOBOYS” WORKING A SHIP ALONG THE COAST] - -“In the region of the Unknown, Africa is the Absolute.” It was one of -Victor Hugo’s prophetic sayings a few years before his death, when he -was pointing out to France her road of empire. And in a certain sense -the saying is still true. In spite of all the explorations, huntings, -killings, and gospels, Africa remains the unknown land, and the nations -of Europe have hardly touched the edge of its secrets. We still think -of “black people” in lumps and blocks. We do not realize that each -African has a personality as important to himself as each of us is in -his own eyes. We do not even know why the mothers in some tribes paint -their babies on certain days with stripes of red and black, or why an -African thinks more of his mother than we think of lovers. If we ask -for the hidden meaning of a Ju-ju, or of some slow and hypnotizing -dance, the native’s eyes are at once covered with a film like a seal’s, -and he gazes at us in silence. We know nothing of the ritual of scars -or the significance of initiation. We profess to believe that external -nature is symbolic and that the universe is full of spiritual force; -but we cannot enter for a moment into the African mind, which really -believes in the spiritual side of nature. We talk a good deal about our -sense of humor, but more than any other races we despise the Africans, -who alone out of all the world possess the same power of laughter as -ourselves. - -In the higher and spiritual sense, Victor Hugo’s saying remains -true--“In the region of the Unknown, Africa is the Absolute.” But now -for the first time in history the great continent lies open to Europe. -Now for the first time men of science have traversed it from end to -end and from side to side. And now for the first time the whole of it, -except Abyssinia, is partitioned among the great white nations of the -world. Within fifty years the greatest change in all African history -has come. The white races possess the Dark Continent for their own, and -what they are going to do with it is now one of the greatest problems -before mankind. It is a small but very significant section of this -problem which I shall hope to illustrate in my investigations. - - - - -II - -PLANTATION SLAVERY ON THE MAINLAND - - -Loanda is much disquieted in mind. The town is really called St. Paul -de Loanda, but it has dropped its Christian name, just as kings drop -their surnames. Between Moorish Tangiers and Dutch Cape Town, it is -the only place that looks like a town at all. It has about it what -so few African places have--the feeling of history. We are aware of -the centuries that lie behind its present form, and we feel in its -ruinous quays the record of early Portuguese explorers and of the Dutch -settlers. - -In the mouldering little church of Our Lady of Salvation, beside the -beach where native women wash, there exists the only work of art which -this side of Africa can show. The church bears the date of 1664, but -the work of art was perhaps ordered a few years before that, while the -Dutch were holding the town, for it consists of a series of pictures in -blue-and-white Dutch tiles, evidently representing scenes in Loanda’s -history. In some cases the tiles have fallen down, and been stuck on -again by natives in the same kind of chaos in which natives would -rearrange the stars. But in one picture a gallant old ship is seen -laboring in a tempest; in another a gallant young horseman in pursuit -of a stag is leaping over a cliff into the sea; and in the third a -thin square of Christian soldiers, in broad-brimmed hats, braided -tail-coats, and silk stockings, is being attacked on every side by a -black and unclad host of savages with bows and arrows. The Christians -are ranged round two little cottages which must signify the fort of -Loanda at the time. Two little cannons belch smoke and lay many black -figures low. The soldiers are firing their muskets into the air, no -doubt in the hope that the height of the trajectory will bring the -bullets down in the neighborhood of the foe, though the opposing forces -are hardly twenty yards apart. The natives in one place have caught -hold of a priest and are about to exalt him to martyrdom, but I think -none of the Christian soldiers have fallen. In defiance of the cannibal -king, who bears a big sword and is twice the size of his followers, -the Christian general grasps his standard in the middle of the square, -and, as in the shipwreck and the hunting scene, Our Lady of Salvation -watches serenely from the clouds, conscious of her power to save. - -Unhappily there is no inscription, and we can only say that the scene -represents some hard-won battle of long ago--some crisis in the -miserable conflict of black and white. Since the days of those two -cottages and a flag, Loanda has grown into a city that would hardly -look out of place upon the Mediterranean shore. It has something now -of the Mediterranean air, both in its beauty and its decay. In front -of its low red and yellow cliffs a long spit of sand-bank forms a calm -lagoon, at the entrance of which the biggest war-ships can lie. The -sandy rock projecting into the lagoon is crowned by a Vauban fortress -whose bastions and counter-scarps would have filled Uncle Toby’s heart -with joy. They now defend the exiled prisoners from Portugal, but -from the ancient embrasures a few old guns, some rusty, some polished -with blacking, still puff their salutes to foreign men-of-war, or to -new governors on their arrival. In blank-cartridge the Portuguese War -Department shows no economy. If only ball-cartridge were as cheap, the -mind of Loanda would be less disquieted. - -There is an upper and a lower town. From the fortress the cliff, -though it crumbles down in the centre, swings round in a wide arc -to the cemetery, and on the cliff are built the governor’s palace, -the bishop’s palace, a few ruined churches that once belonged to -monastic orders, and the fine big hospital, an expensive present from -a Portuguese queen. Over the flat space between the cliff and the -lagoon the lower town has grown up, with a cathedral, custom-house, -barracks, stores, and two restaurants. The natives live scattered about -in houses and huts, but they have chiefly spread at random over the -flat, high ground behind the cliff. As in a Turkish town, there is much -ruin and plenty of space. Over wide intervals of ground you will find -nothing but a broken wall and a century of rubbish. Many enterprises -may be seen growing cold in death. There are gardens which were meant -to be botanical. There is an observatory which may be scientific still, -for the wind-gage spins. There is an immense cycle track which has -delighted no cyclist, unless, indeed, the contractor cycles. There are -bits of pavement that end both ways in sand. There is a ruin that was -intended for a hotel. There is a public band which has played the same -tunes in the same order three times a week since the childhood of the -oldest white inhabitant. There is a technical school where no pupil -ever went. There is a vast municipal building which has never received -its windows, and whose tower serves as a monument to the last sixpence. -There are oil-lamps which were made for gas, and there is one drain, -fit to poison the multitudinous sea. - -So the city lies, bankrupt and beautiful. She is beautiful because she -is old, and because she built her roofs with tiles, before corrugated -iron came to curse the world. And she is bankrupt for various reasons, -which, as I said, are now disquieting her mind. First there is the war. -Only last autumn a Portuguese expedition against a native tribe was -cut to pieces down in the southern Mossamedes district, not far from -the German frontier, where also a war is creeping along. No Lady of -Salvation now helped the thin Christian square, and some three hundred -whites and blacks were left there dead. So things stand. Victorious -natives can hardly be allowed to triumph in victory over whites, but -how can a bankrupt province carry on war? A new governor has arrived, -and, as I write, everything is in doubt, except the lack of money. How -are safety, honor, and the value of the milreis note to be equally -maintained? - -[Illustration: NATIVES IN CHARACTERISTIC DRESS] - -But there is an uneasy consciousness that the lack of money, the war -itself, and other distresses are all connected with a much deeper -question that keeps on reappearing in different forms. It is the -question of “contract labor.” Cheap labor of some sort is essential, -if the old colony is to be preserved. There was a time when there was -plenty of labor and to spare--so much to spare that it was exported in -profitable ship-loads to Havana and Brazil, while the bishop sat on the -wharf and christened the slaves in batches. But, as I have said, that -source of income was cut off by British gun-boats some fifty years ago, -and is lost, perhaps forever. And in the mean time the home supply of -labor has been lamentably diminished; for the native population, the -natural cultivators of the country, have actually decreased in number, -and other causes have contributed to raise their price above the limit -of “economic value.” - -Their numbers have decreased, because the whole country, always exposed -to small-pox, has been suffering more and more from the diseases which -alcoholism brings or leaves, and, like most of tropical Africa, it has -been devastated within the last twenty or thirty years by this new -plague to humanity, called “the sleeping-sickness.” Men of science are -undecided still as to the cause. They are now inclined to connect it -with the tsetse-fly, long known in parts of Africa as the destroyer -of all domesticated animals, but hitherto supposed to be harmless -to man, whether domesticated or wild. No one yet knows, and we can -only describe its course from the observed cases. It begins with an -unwillingness to work, an intense desire to sit down and do nothing, so -that the lowest and most laborious native becomes quite aristocratic -in his habits. The head then keeps nodding forward, and intervals of -profound sleep supervene. Control over the expression of emotion is -lost, so that the patient laughs or cries without cause. This has been -a very marked symptom among the children I have seen. In some the -great tears kept pouring down; others could not stop laughing. The -muscles twitch of themselves, and the glands at the back of the neck -swell up. Then the appetite fails, and in the cases I have seen there -is extreme wasting, as from famine. Sometimes, however, the body -swells all over, and the natives call this kind “the Baobab,” from -the name of the enormous and disproportioned tree which abounds here, -and always looks as if it suffered from elephantiasis, like so many -of the natives themselves. Often there is an intense desire to smoke, -but when the pipe is lit the patient drops it with indifference. Then -come fits of bitter cold, and during these fits patients have been -known to fall into the fire and allow themselves to be burned to death. -Towards the end, violent trembling comes on, followed by delirium and -an unconsciousness which may continue for about the final fortnight. -The disease lasts from six to eight months; sometimes a patient lives -a year. But hitherto there has been no authenticated instance of -recovery. Of all diseases, it is perhaps the only one which up to now -counts its dead by cent per cent. It attacks all ages between five -years and forty, and even those limits are not quite fixed. It so -happens that most of the cases I have yet seen in the country have been -children, but that may be accidental. For a long time it was thought -that white people were exempt. But that is not so. They are apparently -as liable to the sickness as the natives, and there are white patients -suffering from it now in the Loanda hospital. - -My reason for now dwelling upon the disease which has added a new -terror to Africa is its effect upon the labor-supply. It is very -capricious in its visitation. Sometimes it will cling to one side of -a river and leave the other untouched. But when it appears it often -sweeps the population off the face of the earth, and there are places -in Angola which lately were large native towns, but are now going -back to desert. So people are more than ever wanted to continue the -cultivation of such land as has been cultivated, and, unhappily, it -is now more than ever essential that the people should be cheap. The -great days when fortunes were made in coffee, or when it was thought -that cocoa would save the country, are over. Prices have sunk. Brazil -has driven out Angola coffee. San Thomé has driven out the cocoa. The -Congo is driving out the rubber, and the sugar-cane is grown only for -the rum that natives drink--not a profitable industry from the point -of view of national economics. Many of the old plantations have come -to grief. Some have been amalgamated into companies with borrowed -capital. Some have been sold for a song. None is prosperous; but -people still think that if only “contract labor” were cheaper and more -plentiful, prosperity would return. As it is, they see all the best -labor draughted off to the rich island of San Thomé, never to return, -and that is another reason why the mind of Loanda is much disquieted. - -I do not mean that the anxiety about the “contract labor” is entirely -a question of cash. The Portuguese are quite as sensitive and kindly -as other people. Many do not like to think that the “serviçaes” -or “contrahidos,” as they are called, are, in fact, hardly to be -distinguished from the slaves of the cruel old times. Still more do -not like to hear the most favored province of the Portuguese Empire -described by foreigners as a slave state. There is a strong feeling -about it in Portugal also, I believe, and here in Angola it is the -chief subject of conversation and politics. The new governor is thought -to be an “antislavery” man. A little newspaper appears occasionally in -Loanda (_A Defeza de Angola_) in which the shame of the whole system -is exposed, at all events with courage. The paper is not popular with -the official or governing classes. No courageous newspaper ever can -be; for the official person is born with a hatred of reform, because -reform means trouble. But the paper is read none the less. There is a -feeling about the question which I can only describe again as disquiet. -It is partly conscience, partly national reputation; partly also it -is the knowledge that under the present system San Thomé gets all the -advantage, and the mainland is being drained of laborers in order that -the island’s cocoa may abound. - -Legally the system is quite simple and looks innocent enough. Legally -it is laid down that a native and a would-be employer come before a -magistrate or other representative of the Curator-General of Angola, -and enter into a free and voluntary contract for so much work in return -for so much pay. By the wording of the contract the native declares -that “he has come of his own free will to contract for his services -under the terms and according to the forms required by the law of April -29, 1875, the general regulation of November 21, 1878, and the special -clauses relating to this province.” - -The form of contract continues: - - 1. The laborer contracts and undertakes to render all such [domestic, - agricultural, etc.] services as his employer may require. - - 2. He binds himself to work nine hours on all days that are not - sanctified by religion, with an interval of two hours for rest, and - not to leave the service of the employer without permission, except in - order to complain to the authorities. - - 3. This contract to remain in force for five complete years. - - 4. The employer binds himself to pay the monthly wages of ----, with - food and clothing. - -Then follow the magistrate’s approval of the contract, and the -customary conclusion about “signed, sealed, and delivered in the -presence of the following witnesses.” The law further lays it down that -the contract may be renewed by the wish of both parties at the end of -five years, that the magistrates should visit the various districts and -see that the contracts are properly observed and renewed, and that all -children born to the laborers, whether man or woman, during the time -of his or her contract shall be absolutely free. - -Legally, could any agreement look fairer and more innocent? Or could -any government have better protected a subject population in the -transition from recognized slavery to free labor? Even apart from the -splendor of legal language, laws often seem divine. But let us see how -the whole thing works out in human life. - -An agent, whom for the sake of politeness we may call a labor merchant, -goes wandering about among the natives in the interior--say seven or -eight hundred miles from the coast. He comes to the chief of a tribe, -or, I believe, more often, to a little group of chiefs, and, in return -for so many grown men and women, he offers the chiefs so many smuggled -rifles, guns, and cartridges, so many bales of calico, so many barrels -of rum. The chiefs select suitable men and women, very often one of -the tribe gives in his child to pay off an old debt, the bargain is -concluded, and off the party goes. The labor merchant leads it away -for some hundreds of miles, and then offers its members to employers -as contracted laborers. As commission for his own services in the -transaction, he may receive about fifteen or twenty pounds for a man -or a woman, and about five pounds for a child. According to law, the -laborer is then brought before a magistrate and duly signs the above -contract with his or her new master. He signs, and the benevolent law -is satisfied. But what does the native know or care about “freedom -of contract” or “the general regulation of November 21, 1878”? What -does he know about nine hours a day and two hours rest and the days -sanctified by religion? Or what does it mean to him to be told that the -contract terminates at the end of five years? He only knows that he has -fallen into the hands of his enemies, that he is being given over into -slavery to the white man, that if he runs away he will be beaten, and -even if he could escape to his home, all those hundreds of miles across -the mountains, he would probably be killed, and almost certainly be -sold again. In what sense does such a man enter into a free contract -for his labor? In what sense, except according to law, does his -position differ from a slave’s? And the law does not count; it is only -life that counts. - -I do not wish at present to dwell further upon this original stage in -the process of the new slave-trade, for I have not myself yet seen it -at work. I only take my account from men who have lived long in the -interior and whose word I can trust. I may be able to describe it more -fully when I have been farther into the interior myself. But now I will -pass to a stage in the system which I have seen with my own eyes--the -plantation stage, in which the contract system is found in full working -order. - -For about a hundred miles inland from Loanda, the country is flattish -and bare and dry, though there are occasional rivers and a sprinkling -of trees. A coarse grass feeds a few cattle, but the chief product -is the cassava, from which the natives knead a white food, something -between rice and flour. As you go farther, the land grows like the “low -veldt” in the Transvaal, and it has the same peculiar and unwholesome -smell. By degrees it becomes more mountainous and the forest grows -thick, so that the little railway seems to struggle with the -undergrowth almost as much as with the inclines. That little railway -is perhaps the only evidence of “progress” in the province after three -or four centuries. It is paid for by Lisbon, but a train really does -make the journey of about two hundred and fifty miles regularly in two -days, resting the engine for the night. To reach a plantation you must -get out on the route and make your way through the forest by one of -those hardly perceptible “bush paths” which are the only roads. Along -these paths, through flag-grasses ten feet high, through jungle that -closes on both sides like two walls, up mountains covered with forest, -and down valleys where the water is deep at this wet season, every bit -of merchandise, stores, or luggage must be carried on the heads of -natives, and every yard of the journey has to be covered on foot. - -After struggling through the depths of the woods in this way for three -or four hours, we climbed a higher ridge of mountain and emerged from -the dense growth to open summits of rock and grass. Far away to the -southeast a still higher mountain range was visible, and I remembered, -with what writers call a momentary thrill, that from this quarter of -the compass Livingstone himself had made his way through to Loanda on -one of his greatest journeys. Below the mountain edge on which I stood -lay the broad valley of the plantation, surrounded by other hills -and depths of forest. The low white casa, with its great barns and -outhouses, stood in the middle. Close by its side were the thatched -mud huts of the work-people, the doors barred, the little streets all -empty and silent, because the people were all at work, and the children -that were too small to work and too big to be carried were herded -together in another part of the yards. From the house, in almost every -direction, the valleys of cultivated ground stretched out like fingers, -their length depending on the shape of the ground and on the amount of -water which could be turned over them by ditch-canals. - -It was a plantation on which everything that will grow in this part -of Africa was being tried at once. There were rows of coffee, rows of -cocoa-plant, woods of bananas, fields of maize, groves of sugar-cane -for rum. On each side of the paths mango-trees stood in avenues, or the -tree which the parlors of Camden Town know as the India-rubber plant, -though in fact it is no longer the chief source of African rubber. A -few other plants and fruits were cultivated as well, but these were the -main produce. - -The cultivation was admirable. Any one who knows the fertile parts -of Africa will agree that the great difficulty is not to make things -grow, but to prevent other things from growing. The abundant growth -chokes everything down. An African forest is one gigantic struggle for -existence, and an African field becomes forest as soon as you take your -eyes off it. But on the plantation the ground was kept clear and clean. -The first glance told of the continuous and persistent labor that -must be used. And as I was thinking of this and admiring the result, -suddenly I came upon this continuous and persistent labor in the flesh. - -It was a long line of men and women, extended at intervals of about a -yard, like a company of infantry going into action. They were clearing -a coffee-plantation. Bent double over the work, they advanced slowly -across the ground, hoeing it up as they went. To the back of nearly -every woman clung an infant, bound on by a breadth of cotton cloth, -after the African fashion, while its legs straddled round the mother’s -loins. Its head lay between her shoulders, and bumped helplessly -against her back as she struck the hoe into the ground. Most of the -infants were howling with discomfort and exhaustion, but there was no -pause in the work. The line advanced persistently and in silence. The -only interruption was when a loin-cloth had to be tightened up, or when -one of the little girls who spend the day in fetching water passed -along the line with her pitcher. When the people had drunk, they turned -to the work again, and the only sound to be heard was the deep grunt or -sigh as the hoe was brought heavily down into the mass of tangled grass -and undergrowth between the rows of the coffee-plants. - -Five or six yards behind the slowly advancing line, like the officers -of a company under fire, stood the overseers, or gangers, or drivers of -the party. They were white men, or three parts white, and were dressed -in the traditional planter style of big hat, white shirt, and loose -trousers. Each carried an eight-foot stick of hard wood, whitewood, -pointed at the ends, and the look of those sticks quite explained the -thoroughness and persistency of the work, as well as the silence, so -unusual among the natives whether at work or play. - -At six o’clock a big bell rang from the casa, and all stopped working -instantly. They gathered up their hoes and matchets (large, heavy -knives), put them into their baskets, balanced the baskets on their -heads, and walked silently back to their little gathering of mud -huts. The women unbarred the doors, put the tools away, kindled -the bits of firewood they had gathered on the path from work, and -made the family meal. Most of them had to go first to a large room in -the casa where provisions are issued. Here two of the gangers preside -over the two kinds of food which the plantation provides--flour and -dried fish (a great speciality of Angola, known to British sailors as -“stinkfish”). Each woman goes up in turn and presents a zinc disk to -a ganger. The disk has a hole through it so that it may be carried -on a string, and it is stamped with the words “Fazenda de Paciencia -30 Reis,” let us say, or “Paciencia Plantation 1½_d._” The number of -reis varies a little. It is sometimes forty-five, sometimes higher. In -return for her disks, the woman receives so much flour by weight, or -a slab of stinkfish, as the case may be. She puts them in her basket -and goes back to cook. The man, meantime, has very likely gone to the -shop next door and has exchanged his disk for a small glass of the -white sugar-cane rum, which, besides women and occasional tobacco, is -his only pleasure. But the shop, which is owned by the plantation and -worked by one of the overseers, can supply cotton cloth, a few tinned -meats, and other things if desired, also in exchange for the disks. - -[Illustration: PLANTER’S HOUSE ON AN ANGOLA ESTATE] - -The casa and the mud huts are soon asleep. At half-past four the big -bell clangs again. At five it clangs again. Men and women hurry out -and range themselves in line before the casa, coughing horribly and -shivering in the morning air. The head overseer calls the roll. They -answer their queer names. The women tie their babies on to their -backs again. They balance the hoe and matchet in the basket on their -heads, and pad away in silence to the spot where the work was left off -yesterday. At eleven the bell clangs again, and they come back to feed. -At twelve it clangs again, and they go back to work. So day follows day -without a break, except that on Sundays (“days sanctified by religion”) -the people are allowed, in some plantations, to work little plots of -ground which are nominally their own. - -“No change, no pause, no hope.” That is the sum of plantation life. So -the man or woman known as a “contract laborer” toils, till gradually or -suddenly death comes, and the poor, worn-out body is put to rot. Out in -the forest you come upon the little heap of red earth under which it -lies. On the top of the heap is set the conical basket of woven grasses -which was the symbol of its toil in life, and now forms its only -monument. For a fortnight after death the comrades of the dead think -that the spirit hovers uneasily about the familiar huts. They dance and -drink rum to cheer themselves and it. When the fortnight is over, the -spirit is dissolved into air, and all is just as though the slave had -never been. - -There is no need to be hypocritical or sentimental about it. The fate -of the slave differs little from the fate of common humanity. Few men -or women have opportunity for more than working, feeding, getting -children, and death. If any one were to maintain that the plantation -life is not in reality worse than the working-people’s life in most -of our manufacturing towns, or in such districts as the Potteries, -the Black Country, and the Isle of Dogs, he would have much to say. -The same argument was the only one that counted in defence of the old -slavery in the West Indies and the Southern States, and it will have -to be seriously met again now that slavery is reappearing under other -names. A man who has been bought for money is at least of value to -his master. In return for work he gets his mud hut, his flour, his -stinkfish, and his rum. The driver with his eight-foot stick is not so -hideous a figure as the British overseer with his system of blackmail; -and as for cultivation of the intellect and care of the soul, the less -we talk about such things the better. - -In this account I only mean to show that the difference between the -“contract labor” of Angola, and the old-fashioned slavery of our -grandfathers’ time is only a difference of legal terms. In life there -is no difference at all. The men and women whom I have described as -I saw them have all been bought from their enemies, their chiefs, or -their parents; they have either been bought themselves or were the -children of people who had been bought. The legal contract, if it -had been made at all, had not been observed, either in its terms or -its renewal. The so-called pay by the plantation tokens is not pay -at all, but a form of the “truck” system at its very worst. So far -from the children being free, they now form the chief labor supply -of the plantation, for the demand for “serviçaes” in San Thomé has -raised the price so high that the Angola plantations could not carry -on at all without the little swarms of children that are continually -growing up on the estates. Sometimes, as I have heard, two or three -of the men escape, and hide in the crowd at Loanda or set up a little -village far away in the forest. But the risk is great; they have no -money and no friends. I have not heard of a runaway laborer being -prosecuted for breach of contract. As a matter of fact, the fiction of -the contract is hardly even considered. But when a large plantation -was sold the other day, do you suppose the contract of each laborer -was carefully examined, and the length of his future service taken -into consideration? Not a bit of it. The laborers went in block with -the estate. Men, women, and children, they were handed over to the new -owners, and became their property just like the houses and trees. - -Portuguese planters are not a bit worse than other men, but their -position is perilous. The owner or agent lives in the big house with -three or four white or whitey-brown overseers. They are remote from all -equal society, and they live entirely free from any control or public -opinion that they care about. Under their absolute and unquestioned -power are men and women, boys and girls--let us say two hundred in all. -We may even grant, if we will, that the Portuguese planters are far -above the average of men. Still I say that if they were all Archbishops -of Canterbury, it would not be safe for them to be intrusted with such -powers as these over the bodies and souls of men and women. - - - - -III - -DOMESTIC SLAVERY ON THE MAINLAND - - -Some two hundred miles south of St. Paul de Loanda, you come to a deep -and quiet inlet, called Lobito Bay. Hitherto it has been desert and -unknown--a spit of waterless sand shutting in a basin of the sea at the -foot of barren and waterless hills. But in twenty years’ time Lobito -Bay may have become famous as the central port of the whole west coast -of Africa, and the starting-place for traffic with the interior. For -it is the base of the railway scheme known as the “Robert Williams -Concession,” which is intended to reach the ancient copper-mines of the -Katanga district in the extreme south of the Congo State, and so to -unite with the “Tanganyika Concession.” It would thus connect the west -coast traffic with the great lakes and the east. A branch line might -also turn off at some point along the high and flat watershed between -the Congo and Zambesi basins, and join the Cape Town railway near -Victoria Falls. Possibly before the Johannesburg gold is exhausted, -passengers from London to the Transvaal will address their luggage -“viâ Lobito Bay.” - -[Illustration: FIRST MAIL-STEAMER AT LOBITO BAY] - -But this is only prophecy. What is certain is that on January 5, -1905, a mail-steamer was for the first time warped alongside a little -landing-stage of lighters, in thirty-five feet of water, and I may go -down to fame as the first man to land at the future port. What I found -were a few laborers’ huts, a tent, a pile of sleepers, a tiny engine -puffing over a mile or two of sand, and a large Portuguese custom-house -with an eye to possibilities. I also found an indomitable English -engineer, engaged in doing all the work with his own hands, to the -entire satisfaction of the native laborers, who encouraged him with -smiles. - -At present the railway, which is to transform the conditions of Central -Africa, runs as a little tram-line for about eight miles along the -sand to Katumbella. There it has something to show in the shape of a -great iron bridge, which crosses the river with a single span. The day -I was there the engineers were terrifying the crocodiles by knocking -away the wooden piles used in the construction, and both natives -and Portuguese were awaiting the collapse of the bridge with the -pleasurable excitement of people who await a catastrophe that does not -concern themselves. But; to the general disappointment, the last prop -was knocked away and the bridge still stood. It was amazing. It was -contrary to the traditions of Africa and of Portugal. - -Katumbella itself is an old town, with two old forts, a dozen -trading-houses, and a river of singular beauty, winding down between -mountains. It is important because it stands on the coast at the end -of the carriers’ foot-path, which has been for centuries the principal -trade route between the west and the interior. One sees that path -running in white lines far over the hills behind the town, and up and -down it black figures are continually passing with loads upon their -heads. They bring rubber, beeswax, and a few other products of lands -far away. They take back enamelled ware, rum, salt, and the bales of -cotton cloth from Portugal and Manchester which, together with rum, -form the real coinage and standard of value in Central Africa, salt -being used as the small change. The path ends, vulgarly enough, at an -oil-lamp in the chief street of Katumbella. Yet it is touched by the -tragedy of human suffering. For this is the end of that great slave -route which Livingstone had to cross on his first great journey, -but otherwise so carefully avoided. This is the path down which the -caravans of slaves from the basin of the Upper Congo have been brought -for generations, and down this path within the last three or four years -the slaves were openly driven to the coast, shackled, tied together, -and beaten along with whips, the trader considering himself fairly -fortunate if out of his drove of human beings he brought half alive to -the market. There is a notorious case in which a Portuguese trader, -who still follows his calling unchecked, lost six hundred out of nine -hundred on the way down. At Katumbella the slaves were rested, sorted -out, dressed, and then taken on over the fifteen miles to Benguela, -usually disguised as ordinary carriers. The traffic still goes on, -almost unchecked. But of that ancient route from Bihé to the coast I -shall write later on, for by this path I hope to come when I emerge -from the interior and catch sight of the sea again between the hills. - -[Illustration: END OF THE GREAT SLAVE ROUTE AT KATUMBELLA] - -As to the town of Benguela, there is something South African about it. -Perhaps it comes from the eucalyptus-trees, the broad and sandy roads -ending in scrubby waste, and the presence of Boer transport-riders -with their ox-wagons from southern Angola. But the place is, in fact, -peculiarly Portuguese. Next to Loanda, it is the most important town -in the colony, and for years it was celebrated as the very centre -of the slave-trade with Brazil. In the old days when Great Britain -was the enthusiastic opponent of slavery in every form, some of her -men-of-war were generally hanging about off Benguela on the watch. -They succeeded in making the trade difficult and unlucrative; but -we have all become tamer now and more ready to show consideration -for human failings, provided they pay. Call slaves by another name, -legalize their position by a few printed papers, and the traffic -becomes a commercial enterprise deserving of every encouragement. A -few years ago, while gangs were still being whipped down to the coast -in chains, one of the most famous of living African explorers informed -the captain of a British gun-boat what was the true state of things -upon a Portuguese steamer bound for San Thomé. The captain, full of -old-fashioned indignation, proposed to seize the ship. Whereupon the -British authorities, flustered at the notion of such impoliteness, -reminded him that we were now living in a civilized age. These men and -women, who had been driven like cattle over some eight hundred miles of -road to Benguela were not to be called slaves. They were “serviçaes,” -and had signed a contract for so many years, saying they went to San -Thomé of their own free will. It was the free will of sheep going to -the butcher’s. Every one knew that. But the decencies of law and order -must be observed. - -Within the last two or three years the decencies of law and order have -been observed in Benguela with increasing care. There are many reasons -for the change. Possibly the polite representations of the British -Foreign Office may have had some effect; for England, besides being -Portugal’s “old ally,” is one of the best customers for San Thomé -cocoa, and it might upset commercial relations if the cocoa-drinkers -of England realized that they were enjoying their luxury, or exercising -their virtue, at the price of slave labor. Something may also be due to -the presence of the English engineers and mining prospectors connected -with the Robert Williams Concession. But I attribute the change chiefly -to the helpless little rising of the natives, known as the “Bailundu -war” of 1902. Bailundu is a district on the route between Benguela and -Bihé, and the rising, though attributed to many absurd causes by the -Portuguese--especially to the political intrigues of the half-dozen -American missionaries in the district--was undoubtedly due to the -injustice, violence, and lust of certain traders and administrators. -The rising itself was an absolute failure. Terrified as the Portuguese -were, the natives, were more terrified still. I have seen a place where -over four hundred native men, women, and children were massacred in -the rocks and holes where their bones still lie, while the Portuguese -lost only three men. But the disturbance may have served to draw -the attention of Portugal to the native grievances. At any rate, it -was about the same time that two of the officers at an important -fort were condemned to long terms of imprisonment and exile for open -slave-dealing, and Captain Amorim, a Portuguese gunner, was sent out as -a kind of special commissioner to make inquiries. He showed real zeal -in putting down the slave-trade, and set a large number of slaves at -liberty with special “letters of freedom,” signed by himself--most of -which have since been torn up by the owners. His stay was, unhappily, -short, but he returned home, honored by the hatred of the Portuguese -traders and officials in the country, who did their best to poison him, -as their custom is. His action and reports were, I think, the chief -cause of Portugal’s “uneasiness.” - -So the horror of the thing has been driven under the surface; and what -is worse, it has been legalized. Whether it is diminished by secrecy -and the forms of law, I shall be able to judge better in a few months’ -time. I found no open slave-market existing in Benguela, such as -reports in Europe would lead one to expect. The spacious court-yards -or compounds round the trading-houses are no longer crowded with gangs -of slaves in shackles, and though they are still used for housing the -slaves before their final export, the whole thing is done quietly, and -without open brutality, which is, after all, unprofitable as well as -inhuman. - -In the main street there is a government office where the official -representative of the “Central Committee of Labor and Emigration for -the Islands” (having its headquarters in Lisbon) sits in state, and -under due forms of law receives the natives, who enter one door as -slaves and go out of another as “serviçaes.” Everything is correct. The -native, who has usually been torn from his home far in the interior, -perhaps as much as eight hundred miles away, and already sold twice, -is asked by an interpreter if it is his wish to go to San Thomé, or -to undertake some other form of service to a new master. Of course he -answers, “Yes.” It is quite unnecessary to suppose, as most people -suppose, that the interpreter always asks such questions as, “Do -you like fish?” or, “Will you have a drink?” though one of the best -scholars in the languages of the interior has himself heard those -questions asked at an official inspection of “serviçaes” on board ship. -It would be unnecessary for the interpreter to invent such questions. -If he asked, “Is it your wish to go to hell?” the “serviçal” would say -“yes” just the same. In fact, throughout this part of Africa, the name -of San Thomé is becoming identical with hell, and when a man has been -brought hundreds of miles from his home by an unknown road, and through -long tracts of “hungry country”--when also he knows that if he did get -back he would probably be sold again or killed--what else can he answer -but “yes”? Under similar circumstances the Archbishop of Canterbury -would answer the same. - -The “serviçal” says “yes,” and so sanctions the contract for his -labor. The decencies of law and order are respected. The government -of the colony receives its export duty--one of the queerest methods -of “protecting home industries” ever invented. All is regular and -legalized. A series of new rules for the serviçal’s comfort and -happiness during his stay in the islands was issued in 1903, though its -stipulations have not been carried out. And off goes the man to his -death in San Thomé or Il Principe as surely as if he had signed his own -death-warrant. To be sure, there are regulations for his return. By -law, three-fifths of his so-called monthly wages are to be set aside -for a “Repatriation Fund,” and in consideration of this he is granted a -“free passage” back to the coast. A more ingenious trick for reducing -the price of labor has never been invented, but, for very shame, the -Repatriation Fund has ceased to exist, if it ever existed. Ask any -honest man who knows the country well. Ask any Scottish engineer upon -the Portuguese steamers that convey the “serviçaes” to the islands, and -he will tell you they never return. The islands are their grave. - -These are things that every one knows, but I will not dwell upon them -yet or even count them as proved, for I have still far to go and -much to see. Leaving the export trade in “contracted labor,” I will -now speak of what I have actually seen and known of slavery on the -mainland under the white people themselves. I have heard the slaves -in Angola estimated at five-sixths of the population by an Englishman -who has held various influential positions in the country for nearly -twenty years. The estimate is only guesswork, for the Portuguese are -not strong in statistics, especially in statistics of slavery. But -including the very large number of natives who, by purchase or birth, -are the family slaves of the village chiefs and other fairly prosperous -natives, we might probably reckon at least half the population as -living under some form of slavery--either in family slavery to natives, -or general slavery to white men, or in plantation slavery (under -which head I include the export trade). I have referred to the family -slavery among the natives. Till lately it has been universal in Africa, -and it still exists in nearly all parts. But though it is constantly -pleaded as their excuse by white slave-owners, it is not so shameful a -thing as the slavery organized by the whites, if only because whites -do at least boast themselves to be a higher race than natives, with -higher standards of life and manners. From what I have seen of African -life, both in the south and west, I am not sure that the boast is -justified, but at all events it is made, and for that reason white men -are precluded from sheltering themselves behind the excuse of native -customs. - -On the same steamer by which I reached Benguela there were five little -native boys, conspicuous in striped jerseys, and running about the ship -like rats. I suppose they were about ten to twelve years old, perhaps -less. I do not know where they came from, but it must have been from -some fairly distant part of the interior, for, like all natives who see -stairs for the first time, they went up and down them on their hands -and knees. They were travelling with a Portuguese, and within a week of -landing at Benguela he had sold them all to other white owners. Their -price was fifty milreis apiece (nearly £10). Their owner did rather -well, for the boys were small and thin--hardly bigger than another -native slave boy who was at the same time given away by one Portuguese -friend to another as a New-Year’s present. But all through this part -of the country I have found the price of human beings ranging rather -higher than I expected, and the man who told me the price of the boys -had himself been offered one of them at that figure, and was simply -passing on the offer to myself. - -Perhaps I was led to underestimate prices a little by the statement -of a friend in England that at Benguela one could buy a woman for £8 -and a girl for £12. He had not been to that part of the coast himself, -though for five years he had lived in the Katanga district of the Congo -State, from which large numbers of the slaves are drawn. Perhaps he -had forgotten to take into account the heavy cost of transport from -the interior and the risk of loss by death upon the road. Or perhaps -he reckoned by the exceptionally low prices prevailing after the dry -season of 1903, when, owing to a prolonged drought, the famine was -severe in a district near the Kunene in southeast Angola, and some -Portuguese and Boer traders took advantage of the people’s hunger to -purchase oxen and children cheap in exchange for mealies. Similarly, -in 1904, women were being sold unusually cheap in a district by the -Cuanza, owing to a local famine. Livingstone, in his _First Expedition -to Africa_, said he had never known cases of parents selling children -into slavery, but Mr. F. S. Arnot, in his edition of the book, has -shown that such things occur (though as a rule a child is sold by -his maternal uncle), and I have myself heard of several instances -in the last few weeks, both for debt and hunger. Necessity is the -slave-trader’s opportunity, and under such conditions the market -quotations for human beings fall, in accordance with the universal -economics. - -The value of a slave, man or woman, when landed at San Thomé, is about -£30, but, as nearly as I could estimate, the average price of a grown -man in Benguela is £20 (one hundred dollars). At that price the traders -there would be willing to supply a large number. An Englishman whom I -met there had been offered a gang of slaves, consisting of forty men -and women, at the rate of £18 a head. But the slaves were up in Bihé, -and the cost of transport down to the coast goes for something; and -perhaps there was “a reduction on taking a quantity.” However, when he -was in Bihé, he had bought two of them from the Portuguese trader at -that rate. They were both men. He had also bought two boys farther in -the interior, but I do not know at what price. One of them had been -with the Batatele cannibals, who form the chief part of the “Révoltés,” -or rebels, against the atrocious government of the Belgians on the -Upper Congo. Perhaps the boy himself really belonged to the race which -had sold him to the Bihéan traders. At all events, the racial mark was -cut in his ears, and the other “boys” in the Englishman’s service were -never tired of chaffing him upon his past habits. Every night they -would ask him how many men he had eaten that day. But a point was added -to the laugh because the ex-cannibal was now acting as cook to the -party. Under their new service all these slaves received their freedom. - -The price of women on the mainland is more variable, for, as in -civilized countries, it depends almost entirely on their beauty and -reputation. Even on the Benguela coast I think plenty of women could be -procured for agricultural, domestic, and other work at £15 a head or -even less. But for the purposes for which women are often bought the -price naturally rises, and it depends upon the ordinary causes which -regulate such traffic. A full-grown and fairly nice-looking woman may -be bought from a trader for £18, but for a mature girl a man must pay -more. At least a stranger who is not connected with the trade has to -pay more. While I was in the town a girl was sold to a prospector, who -wanted her as his concubine during a journey into the interior. Her -owner was an elderly Portuguese official of some standing. I do not -know how he had obtained her, but she was not born in his household -of slaves, for he had only recently come to the country. Most likely -he had bought her as a speculation, or to serve as his concubine if -he felt inclined to take her. The price finally arranged between him -and the prospector for the possession of the girl was one hundred -and twenty-five milreis, which was then nearly equal to £25. For the -visit of the King of Portugal to England and the revival of the “old -alliance” had just raised the value of the Portuguese coinage. - -When the bargain was concluded, the girl was led to her new master’s -room and became his possession. During his journey into the interior -she rode upon his wagon. I saw them often on the way, and was told the -story of the purchase by the prospector himself. He did not complain -of the price, though men who were better acquainted with the uses of -the woman-market considered it unnecessarily high. But it is really -impossible to fix an average standard of value where such things -as beauty and desire are concerned. The purchaser was satisfied, -the seller was satisfied. So who was to complain? The girl was not -consulted, nor did the question of her price concern her in the least. - -I was glad to find that the Portuguese official who had parted with -her on these satisfactory terms was no merely selfish speculator in -the human market, as so many traders are, but had considered the -question philosophically, and had come to the conclusion that slavery -was much to a slave’s advantage. The slave, he said, had opportunities -of coming into contact with a higher civilization than his own. He was -much better off than in his native village. His food was regular, his -work was not excessive, and, if he chose, he might become a Christian. -Being an article of value, it was likely that he would be well treated. -“Indeed,” he continued, in an outburst of philanthropic emotion, “both -in our own service and at San Thomé, the slave enjoys a comfort and -well-being which would have been forever beyond his reach if he had not -become a slave!” In many cases, he asserted, the slave owed his very -life to slavery, for some of the slaves brought from the interior were -prisoners of war, and would have been executed but for the profitable -market ready to receive them. As he spoke, the old gentleman’s face -glowed with noble enthusiasm, and I could not but envy him his -connection with an institution that was at the same time so salutary -to mankind and so lucrative to himself. - -As to the slave’s happiness on the islands, I cannot yet describe it, -but according to the reports of residents, ships’ officers, and the -natives themselves, it is brief, however great. What sort of happiness -is enjoyed on the Portuguese plantations of Angola itself I have -already described. As to the comfort and joy of ordinary slavery under -white men, with all its advantages of civilization and religion, the -beneficence of the institution is somewhat dimmed by a few such things -as I have seen, or have heard from men whom I could trust as fully as -my own eyes. At five o’clock one afternoon I saw two slaves carrying -fish through an open square at Benguela, and enjoying their contact -with civilization in the form of another native, who was driving them -along like oxen with a sjambok. The same man who was offered the forty -slaves at £18 a head had in sheer pity bought a little girl from a -Portuguese lady last autumn, and he found her back scored all over -with the cut of the _chicote_, just like the back of a trek-ox under -training. An Englishman coming down from the interior last African -winter, was roused at night by loud cries in a Portuguese trading-house -at Mashiko. In the morning he found that a slave had been flogged, and -tied to a tree in the cold all night. He was a man who had only lately -lost his liberty, and was undergoing the process which the Portuguese -call “taming,” as applied to new slaves who are sullen and show no -pleasure in the advantages of their position. In another case, only a -few weeks ago, an American saw a woman with a full load on her head and -a baby on her back passing the house where he happened to be staying. -A big native, the slave of a Portuguese trader in the neighborhood, -was dragging her along with a rope, and beating her with a whip as -she went. The American brought the woman into the house and kept her -there. Next day the Portuguese owners came in fury with forty of his -slaves, breathing out slaughters, but, as is usual with the Portuguese, -he shrank up when he was faced with courage. The American refused to -give the woman back, and ultimately she was restored to her own distant -village, where she still is. - -I would willingly give the names in the last case and in all others; -but one of the chief difficulties of the whole subject is that it -is impossible to give names without exposing people out here to the -hostility and persecution of the Portuguese authorities and traders. -In most instances, also, not only the people themselves, but all the -natives associated with them, would suffer, and the various kinds of -work in which they are engaged would come to an end. It is the same -fear which keeps the missionaries silent. The Catholic missions are -supported by the state. The other missions exist on sufferance. How -can missionaries of either division risk the things they have most -at heart by speaking out upon a dangerous question? They are silent, -though their conscience is uneasy, unless custom puts it to sleep. - -Custom puts us all to sleep. Every one in Angola is so accustomed to -slavery as part of the country’s arrangements that hardly anybody -considers it strange. It is regarded either as a wholesome necessity -or as a necessary evil. When any question arises upon the subject, all -the antiquated arguments in favor of slavery are trotted out again. -We are told that but for slavery the country would remain savage and -undeveloped; that some form of compulsion is needed for the native’s -good; that in reality he enjoys more freedom and comfort as a slave -than in his free village. Let us at once sweep away all the talk -about the native’s good. It is on a level with the cant which said -the British fought the Boers and brought the Chinese to the Transvaal -in order to extend to both races a higher form of religion. The only -motive for slavery is money-making, and the only argument in its favor -is that it pays. That is the root of the matter, and as long as we -stick to that we shall, at least, be saved from humbug. - -As to the excuse that there is a difference between slavery and -“contracted labor,” this is no more than legal cant, just as the -other pleas are philanthropic or religious cant. Except in the eyes -of the law, it makes no difference whether a man is a “serviçal” or -a slave; it makes no difference whether a written contract exists or -not. I do not know whether the girl I mentioned had signed a contract -expressing her willingness to serve as the prospector’s concubine for -five years, after which she was to be free unless the contract were -renewed. But I do know that whether she signed the contract or not, -her price and position would have been exactly the same, and that -before the five years are up she will in all probability have been -sold two or three times over, at diminishing prices. The “serviçal” -system is only a dodge to delude the antislavery people, who were at -one time strong in Great Britain, and have lately shown signs of life -in Portugal. Except in the eyes of a law which is hardly ever enforced, -slavery exists almost unchecked. Slaves work the plantations, slaves -serve the traders, slaves do the housework of families. Ordinary free -wage-earners exist in the towns and among the carriers, but, as a rule, -throughout the country the system of labor is founded on slavery, -and very few of the Portuguese or foreign residents in Angola would -hesitate to admit it. - -From Benguela I determined to strike into a district which has long had -an evil reputation as the base of the slave-trade with the interior--a -little known and almost uninhabited country. - - - - -IV - -ON ROUTE TO THE SLAVE CENTRE - - -He who goes to Africa leaves time behind. Next week is the same as -to-morrow, and it is indifferent whether a journey takes a fortnight -or two months. That is why the ox-wagon suits the land so well. Mount -an ox-wagon and you forget all time. Like the to-morrows of life, it -creeps in its petty pace, and soon after its wheels have reached their -extreme velocity of three miles an hour you learn how vain are all -calculations of pace and years. Yet, except in the matter of speed, -which does not count in Africa, the ox-wagon has most of the qualities -of an express-train, besides others of greater value. Its course is at -least equally adventurous, and it affords a variety of sensations and -experiences quite unknown to the ordinary railway passenger. - -Let me take an instance from the recent journey on which I have crossed -some four hundred and fifty or five hundred miles of country in two -months. A good train would have traversed the distance in a winter’s -night, and have left only a tedious blank upon the mind. On a railway -what should I have known of a certain steep descent which we approached -one silent evening after rain? The red surface was just slippery with -the wet. The oxen were going quietly along, when, all of a sudden, they -were startled by the heavy thud of the wheels jolting over a tree stump -on the track. Within a few yards of the brink they set off at a trot, -the long and heavy chain hanging loose between them. - -“Kouta! Kouta ninni!” (“Brake! Hard on!”) shouted the driver, and we -felt the Ovampo boy behind the wagon whirl the screw round till the -hind wheels were locked. But it was too late. We were over the edge -already. Backing and slipping and pulling every way, striking with -their horns, charging one another helplessly from behind, the oxen -swept down the steep. Behind them, like a big gun got loose, came the -wagon, swaying from side to side, leaping over the rocks, plunging into -the holes, at every moment threatening to crush the hinder oxen of the -span. Then it began to slide sideways. It was almost at right angles to -the track. In another second it would turn clean over, with all four -wheels in air, or would dash us into a great tree that stood only a few -yards down. - -“Kouta loula!” (“Loose the brake!”) yelled the driver, but nothing -could stop the sliding now. We clung on and thought of nothing. Men on -the edge of death think of nothing. Suddenly the near hind wheel -was thrown against a high ridge of clay. The wagon swung straight, and -we were plunged into a river among the struggling oxen, all huddled -together and entangled in the chain. - -[Illustration: AWKWARD CROSSING] - -“That was rather rapid,” I said, as the wagon came to a dead stop in -the mud and we took to the water, but in no language could I translate -the expression of the driver’s emotions. - -Only last wet season the owner of a wagon started down a place like -that with twenty-four fine oxen, and at the bottom he had eight oxen, -and more beef than he could salt. - -Beside another hill lies the fresh grave of a poor young Boer, who was -thrown under his wagon wheels and never out-spanned again. Such are the -interests of an ox-wagon when it takes to speed. - -Or what traveller by train could have enjoyed such experiences as were -mine in crossing the Kukema--a river that forms a boundary of Bihé? -At that point it was hardly more than five feet deep and twenty yards -wide. In a train one would have leaped over it without pause or notice. -But in a wagon the passage gave us a whole long day crammed with varied -labor and learning. Leading the oxen down to the brink at dawn, we -out-spanned and emptied the wagon of all the loads. Then we lifted its -“bed” bodily off the four wheels, and spreading the “sail,” or canvas -hood, under it, we launched it with immense effort into the water as -a raft. We anchored it firmly to both banks by the oxen’s “reems” (I -do not know how the Boers spell those strips of hide, the one thing, -except patience, necessary in African travel), and dragging it to -and fro through the water, we got the loads over dry in about four -journeys. Then the oxen were swum across, and tying some of them to the -long chain on the farther side, we drew the wheels and the rest of the -wagon under water into the shallows. Next came the task of taking off -the “sail” in the water and floating the “bed” into its place upon the -beam again--a lifelong lesson in applied hydraulics. When at last the -sun set and white man and black emerged naked, muddy, and exhausted -from the water, while the wagon itself wallowed triumphantly up the -bank, I think all felt they had not lived in vain. Though, to be sure, -it was wet sleeping that night, and the rain came sousing down as if -poured out of one immeasurable slop-pail. - -A railway bridge? What a dull and uninstructive substitute that would -have been! - -Or consider the ox, how full of personality he is compared to the -locomotive! Outwardly he is far from emotional. You cannot coax him as -you coax a horse or a dog. A fairly tame ox will allow you to clap his -hind quarters, but the only real pleasure you can give him is a lick -of salt. For salt even a wild ox will almost submit to be petted. The -smell of the salt-bag is enough to keep the whole span sniffing and -lowing round the wagon instead of going to feed, and, especially on -the “sour veldt,” the Sunday treat of salt spread along a rock is a -festival of luxury. - -But unexpressive as oxen are, one soon learns the inner character of -each. There is the wise and willing ox, who will stick to the track -and always push his best. He is put at the head of the span. In the -middle comes the wild ox, who wants to go any way but the right; the -sullen ox, who needs the lash; and the well-behaved representative of -gentility, who will do anything and suffer anything rather than work. -Nearest the wagon, if possible for as many as four spans, you must put -the strong and well-trained oxen, who answer quickly to their names. On -them depends the steering and safety of the wagon. At the sound of his -name each ox is trained to push his side of the yoke forward, and round -trees or corners the wagon follows the curve of safety. - -“Blaawberg! Shellback! Rachop! Blomveldt!” you cry. The oxen on the -left of the four last spans push forward the ends of their yokes, and -edging off to the right, the wagon moves round the segment of an arc. -To drive a wagon is like coxing an eight without a rudder. - -But on a long and hungry trek even the leaders will sometimes turn -aside into the bush for tempting grass, or as a hint that it is time -to stop. In a moment there is the wildest confusion. The oxen behind -are dragged among the trees. The chain gets entangled; two oxen pull -on different sides of a standing trunk; yoke-pegs crack; necks are -throttled by the halters; the wagon is dashed against a solid stump, -and trees and stump and all have to be hewn down with the axe before -the span is free again. Sometimes the excited and confused animals drag -at the chain while one ox is being helplessly crushed against a tree. -Often a horn is broken off. I know nothing that suggests greater pain -than the crack of a horn as it is torn from the skull. The ox falls -silently on his knees. Blood streams down his face. The other oxen -go on dragging at the chain. When released from the yoke, he rushes -helplessly over the bush, trying to hide himself. But flinging him on -his side and tying his legs together, the natives bind up the horn, if -it has not actually dropped, with a plaster of a poisonous herb they -call “moolecky,” to keep the blow-flies away. Sometimes it grows on -again. Sometimes it remains loose and flops about. But, as a rule, it -has to be cut off in the end. - -To avoid such things most transport-riders set a boy to walk in front -of the oxen as “toe-leader,” though it is a confession of weakness. -Another difficulty in driving the ox is his peculiar horror of mud -from the moment that he is in-spanned. By nature he loves mud next -best to food and drink. He will wallow in mud all a tropical day, -and the more slimy it is, the better he likes it. But put him in the -yoke, and he becomes as cautious of mud as a cat, as dainty of his -feet as a lady crossing Regent Street. It seems strange at first, but -he has his reasons. When he comes to one of those ghastly mud-pits -(“slaughter-holes” the Boers call them), which abound along the road in -the wet season, his first instinct is to plunge into it; but reflection -tells him that he has not time to explore its cool depths and -delightful stickiness, and that if he falls or sticks the team behind -and perhaps the wagon itself will be upon him. So he struggles all he -can to skirt delicately round it, and if he is one of the steering -oxen, the effort brings disaster either on the wagon or himself. No -less terrible is his fate when for hour after hour the wagon has to -plough its way through one of the upland bogs; when the wheels are sunk -to the hubs, and the legs of all the oxen disappear, and the shrieking -whips and yelling drivers are never for a moment still. Why the ox also -very strongly objects to getting his tail wet I have not found out. - -Another peculiarity is that the ox is too delicate to work if it is -raining. Cut his hide to ribbons with rhinoceros whips, rot off his -tail with inoculation for lung-sickness, let ticks suck at him till -they swell as large as cherries with his blood--he bears all patiently. -But if a soft shower descends on him while he is in the yoke, he will -work no more. Within a minute or two he gets the sore hump--a terrible -thing to have. There is nothing to do but to stop. The hump must be -soothed down with wagon-grease--a mixture of soft-soap, black-lead, -and tar--and I have heard of wagons halted for weeks together because -the owner drove his oxen through a storm. Seeing that it rains in -water-spouts nearly every morning or afternoon from October to May, the -working-hours are considerably shortened, and unhappy is the man who is -in haste. I was in haste. - -To be happy in Africa a man should have something oxlike in his nature. -Like an ox, or like “him that believeth,” he must never make haste. He -must accept his destiny and plod upon his way. He must forget emotion -and think no more of pleasures. He must let time run over him, and hope -for nothing greater than a lick of salt. - -But there is one kind of ox which develops further characteristics, and -that is the riding-ox. He is the horse of Angola and of all Central -Africa where he can live. With ring in nose and saddle on back, he will -carry you at a swinging walk over the country, even through marshes -where a horse or a donkey would sink and shudder and groan. One of my -wagon team was a riding-ox, and it took four men to catch and saddle -him. To avoid the dulness of duty he would gallop like a racer and -leap like a deer. But when once saddled his ordinary gait was discreet -and solemn; and though his name was Buller, I called him “Old Ford,” -because he somehow reminded me of the Chelsea ’bus. - -All the oxen in the team, except Buller, were called by Boer names. -Nor was this simply because Dutch is the natural language of oxen. -Very nearly every one concerned with wagons in Angola is a Boer, and -it is to Boers that the Portuguese owe the only two wagon tracks that -count in the country--the road from Benguela through Caconda to Bihé -and on towards the interior, and the road up from Mossamedes, which -joins the other at Caconda. I think these tracks form the northernmost -limit of the trek-ox in Africa, and his presence is entirely due to a -party of Boers who left the Transvaal rather more than twenty years -ago, driven partly by some religious or political difference, but -chiefly by the wandering spirit of Boers. I have conversed with a man -who well remembers that long trek--how they Started near Mafeking and -crept through Bechuanaland, and skirting the Kalahari Desert, crossed -Damaraland, and reached the promised land of Angola at last. They were -five years on the way--those indomitable wanderers. Once they stopped -to sow and reap their corn. For the rest they lived on the game they -shot. Now you find about two hundred families of them scattered up -and down through South Angola, chiefly in the Humpata district. They -are organized for defence on the old Transvaal lines, and to them the -Portuguese must chiefly look to check an irruption of natives, such as -the Cunyami are threatening now on the Cunene River. - -Yet the Portuguese have taken this very opportunity (February, 1905) -for worrying them all about licenses for their rifles, and threatening -to disarm them if all the taxes are not paid up in full. At various -points I met the leading Boers going up to the fort at Caconda, -brooding over their grievances, or squatted on the road, discussing -them in their slow, untiring way. On further provocation they swore -they would trek away into Barotzeland and put themselves under British -protection. They even raised the question whether the late war had -not given them the rights of British subjects already. A slouching, -unwashed, foggy-minded people they are, a strange mixture of simplicity -and cunning, but for knowledge of oxen and wagons and game they have no -rivals, and in war I should estimate the value of one Boer family at -about ten Portuguese forts. They trade to some extent in slaves, but -chiefly they buy them for their own use, and they almost always give -them freedom at the time of marriage. Their boy slaves they train with -the same rigor as their oxen, but when the training is complete the boy -is counted specially valuable on the road. - -Distances in Africa are not reckoned by miles, but by treks or by days. -And even this method is very variable, for a journey that will take -a fortnight in the dry season may very well take three months in the -wet. A trek will last about three hours, and the usual thing is two -treks a day. I think no one could count on more than twelve miles a -day with a loaded wagon, and I doubt if the average is as much as ten. -But it is impossible to calculate. The record from Bihé to Benguela by -the road is six weeks, but you must not complain if a wagon takes six -months, and the journey used to be reckoned at a year, allowing time -for shooting food on the way. In a straight line the distance is about -two hundred and fifty miles, or, by the wagon road, something over four -hundred and fifty, as nearly as I can estimate. But when it takes you -two or three days to cross a brook and a fortnight to cross a marsh, -distance becomes deceptive. - -One thing is very noticeable along that wagon road: from end to end of -it hardly a single native is to be seen. After leaving Benguela, till -you reach the district of Bihé, you will see only one native village, -and that is three miles from the road. Much of the country is fertile. -Villages have been plentiful in the past. The road passes through -their old fields and gardens. Sometimes the huts are still standing, -but all is silent and deserted now. Till this winter there was one -village left, close upon the road, about a day’s trek past Caconda. -But when I hoped to buy a few potatoes or peppers there, I found it -abandoned like the rest. Where the road runs, the natives will not -stay. Exposed continually to the greed, the violence, and lust of white -men and their slaves, they cannot live in peace. Their corn is eaten -up, their men are beaten, their women are ravished. If a Portuguese -fort is planted in the neighborhood, so much the worse. Time after time -I have heard native chiefs and others say that a fort was the cruelest -thing to endure of all. It is not only the exactions of the Chefe in -command himself, though a Chefe who comes for about eighteen months -at most, who depends entirely on interpreters, and is anxious to go -home much richer than he came, is not likely to be particular. But it -is the brutality of the handful of soldiers under his command. The -greater part of them are natives from distant tribes, and they exercise -themselves by plundering and maltreating any villagers within reach, -while the Chefe remains ignorant or indifferent. So it comes that where -a road or fort or any other sign of the white man’s presence appears -the natives quit their villages one by one, and steal away to build new -homes beyond the reach of the common enemy. This is, I suppose, that -“White Man’s Burden” of which we have heard so much. This is “The White -Man’s Burden,” and it is the black man who takes it up. - -To the picturesque traveller who is provided with plenty of tinned -things to eat, the solitude of the road may add a charm. For it is far -more romantic to hear the voice of lions than the voice of man. But, -indeed, to every one the road is of interest from its great variety. -Here in a short space are to be seen the leading characteristics of all -the southern half of Africa--the hot and dry edging near the shore, -the mountain zone, and the great interior plateau of forest or veldt, -out of which, I suppose, the mountain zone has been gradually carved, -and is still being carved, by the wash and dripping from the central -marshes. The three zones have always been fairly distinct in every part -of Africa that I have known, from Mozambique round to the mouth of the -Congo, though in a few places the mountain zone comes down close to the -sea. - -From Benguela I had to trek for six days, often taking advantage of the -moon to trek at night as well, before I saw a trace of water on the -surface of the rivers, and nine days before running water was found, -though I was trekking in the middle of the wet season. There are one -or two dirty wet places, nauseous with sulphur, but all drinking-water -for man or ox must be dug for in the beds of the sand rivers, and -sometimes you have to dig twelve feet down before the sand looks damp. -It is a beautiful land of bare and rugged hills, deeply scarred by -weather, and full of the wild and brilliant colors--the violet and -orange--that bare hills always give. But the oxen plod through it as -fast as possible, really almost hurrying in their eagerness for a -long, deep drink. Yet the district abounds in wild animals, not only -in elands and other antelopes, which can withdraw from their enemies -into deserts drier than teetotal States and can do without a drink for -days together. But there are other animals as well, such as lions and -zebras and buffaloes, which must drink every day or die. Somewhere, -not far away, there must be a “continuous water-supply,” as a London -County Councillor would say, and hunters think it may be the Capororo -or Korporal or San Francisco, only eight hours south of the road, where -there is always real water and abundance of game. A thirsty lion would -easily take his tea there in the afternoon and be back in plenty of -time to watch for his dinner along the road. - -Lions are increasing in number throughout the district, and, I believe, -in all Angola, though they are still not so common as leopards. -Certainly they watch the road for dinner, and all the way from Benguela -to Bihé you have a good chance of hearing them purring about your wagon -any night. Sometimes, then, you may find a certain satisfaction in -reflecting that you are inside the wagon and that twenty oxen or more -are sleeping around you, tied to their yokes. An ox is a better meal -than a man, but to men as well as to oxen the lions are becoming more -dangerous as the wilder game grows scarcer. A native, from the wagon -which crossed the Cuando just after mine, was going down for water in -the evening, when a lion sprang on him and split the petroleum-can with -his claw. The boy had the sense to beat his cup hard against the tin, -and the monarch of the forest was so disgusted at the noise that he -withdrew; but few boys are so quick, and many are killed, especially in -the mountain zone, about one hundred miles from the coast. - -I think it is ten years ago now that one of the Brothers of the Holy -Spirit was walking in the mission garden at Caconda in the cool of the -evening, meditating vespers or something else divine, when he looked -up and saw a great lion in the path. Instead of making for the nearest -tree, he had the good sense to fall on his knees, and so he went to -death with dignity. And on one of the nights when I was encamped near -the convent six lions were prowling round it. Vespers were over, but it -was a pleasure to me to reflect how much better prepared for death the -Brothers were than I. - -It is very rarely that you have the luck to see a lion, even where they -abound. They are easily hidden. Especially in a country like this, -covered with the tawny mounds and pyramids of the white ant, you may -easily pass within a few yards of a whole domestic circle of lions -without knowing it. Nor will they touch an armed white man unless -pinched with hunger. Yet, in spite of all travellers’ libels, the lion -is really the king of beasts, next to man. You have only to look at -his eye and his forearm to know it. I need not repeat stories of his -strength, but one peculiarity of his was new to me, though perhaps -familiar to most people. A great hunter told me that when, with one -blow of his paw, a lion has killed an ox, he will fasten on the back of -the neck and cling there in a kind of ecstasy for a few seconds, with -closed eyes. During that brief interval you can go quite close to him -unobserved and shoot him through the brain with impunity. - -I found the most frequent spoor of lions in a sand river among the -mountains, about a week out from Benguela. The country there is very -rich in wild beasts--Cape buffalo, many antelopes, and quagga (or -Burchell’s zebra, as I believe they ought to be called, but the hunters -call them quagga). - -I was most pleased, however, to find upon the surface of the sand river -the spoor of a large herd of elephants which had passed up it the night -before. It was difficult to make out their numbers, for they had thrust -their trunks deep into the sand for water, and having found it, they -evidently celebrated the occasion with a fairy revel, pouring the water -over their backs and tripping it together upon the yellow sands. But -when they passed on, it was clear that the cows and calves were on -the right, while the big males kept the left, and probably forced the -passages through the thickest bush. A big bull elephant’s spoor on sand -is more like an embossed map of the moon with her mountains and valleys -and seas than anything else I can think of. A cow’s footprint is the -map of a simpler planet. And the calf’s is plain, like the impression -of a paving-hammer, only slightly oval. - -There was no nasty concealment about that family. The path they had -made through the forest was like the passage of a storm or the course -of a battle. They had broken branches, torn up trees, trampled the -grass, and snapped off all the sugary pink flowers of the tall aloes, -which they love as much as buns in the Zoo. So to the east they -had passed away, open in their goings because they had nothing to -fear--nothing but man, and unfortunately they have not yet taken much -account of him. The hunters say that they move in a kind of zone or -rough circle--from the Upper Zambesi across the Cuando into Angola and -the district where they passed me, and so across the Cuanza northward -and eastward into the Congo, and round towards Katanga and the sources -of the Zambesi again. The hunters are not exactly sure that the same -elephants go walking round and round the circle. They do not know. But -a prince might very profitably spend ten years in following an elephant -family round from point to point of its range--profitably, I mean, -compared to his ordinary round of royal occupations. - -I must not stay to tell of the birds--the flamingoes that pass down the -coast, so high that they look no more than geese; the eagles, vultures, -and hawks of many kinds; the parrots, few but brilliant; the metallic -starling, of two species at least, both among the most gorgeous of -birds; the black-headed crane and the dancing crane whose crest is -like Cinderella’s fan, full-spread and touched with crimson; the many -kinds of hornbill, including the bird who booms all night with joy at -approaching rain; the great bustard, which the Boers in their usual -slipshod way called the pau or peacock, simply because it is big, just -as they call the leopard a tiger and the hyena a wolf. Nor must I tell -of the guinea-fowl and francolins, or of the various doves, one of -which begins with three soft notes and then runs down a scale of seven -minor tones, fit to break a mourner’s heart; nor of the aureoles and -the familiar bird that pleases his wives by growing his tail so long he -can hardly hover over the marshes; nor even of our childhood’s friend, -the honey-guide, whose cheery twitter may lead to the wild bees’ nest, -but leads just as cheerily to a python or a lion asleep. I cannot speak -of these, though I feel there is the making of a horrible tract in that -honey-guide. - -When you have climbed the mountains--in one place the wagon crawls -over a pass or summit of close upon five thousand feet--you gradually -leave the big game (except the lions) and the most brilliant of the -birds behind. But the deer become even more plentiful in places. The -road is driving them away, as it has driven the natives, and for -the same reason. But within a few hours of the road you may find -them still--the beautiful roan antelope, the still more beautiful -koodoo, the bluebock, the lechwe, the hartebeest (and, I believe, the -wildebeest, or gnu, as well), the stinking water-buck, the reedbuck, -the oribi, and the little duiker, or “diver,” called from its way of -leaping through the high grass and disappearing after each bound. It is -fine to see any deer run, but there can be few things more delightful -than to watch the easy grace of a duiker disappearing in the distance -after you have missed him. - -Caconda is, in every sense, the turning-point of the journey; first, -because the road, after running deviously southeast, here turns almost -at right angles northeast on its way to Bihé; secondly, because Caconda -marks the entire change in the character of the scenery from mountains -to the great plateau of forest and marshy glades. And besides, Caconda -is almost the one chance you have of seeing human habitations along the -whole course of the journey of some four hundred and fifty miles. The -large native town has long since disappeared, though you can trace its -ruins; but about five miles south of the road is a rather important -Portuguese station of half a dozen trading-houses, a church--only in -its second year, but already dilapidated--and a fort, with a rampart, -ditch, a toy cannon, and a commandant who tries with real gravity to -rise above the level of a toy. Certainly his situation is grave. The -Cunyami, who ate up the Portuguese force on the Cunene in September of -1904, have sent him a letter saying they mean next to burn him and his -fort and the trading-houses too. He has under his command about thirty -black soldiers and a white sergeant; and he might just as well have -thirty black ninepins and a white feather. He impressed me as about the -steadiest Portuguese I had yet seen, but no wonder he looked grave. - -He is responsible, further, for the safety of the Catholic mission, -which stands close beside the wagon track itself, overlooking a wide -prospect of woodland and grass which reminds one of the view over the -Weald of Kent from Limpsfield Common or Crockham Hill. The mission -has a tin-roofed church, a gate-house, cells for the four Fathers and -five Brothers, dormitories for a kind of boarding-school they keep, -excellent workshops, a forge, and a large garden, where the variety -of plants and fruits shows what the natives might do but for their -unalterable belief that every new plant which comes to maturity costs -the life of some one in the village. - -[Illustration: CATHOLIC MISSION AT CACONDA] - -Though under Portuguese allegiance and drawing money from the state, -all the Fathers and Brothers were French or Alsatian. The superior -was a blithe and energetic Norman, who probably could tell more about -Angola and its wildest tribes than any one living. But to me, caution -made him only polite. The Fathers are said to maintain that acrid -old distinction between Catholic and Protestant--not, one would have -thought, a matter of great importance--and in the past they have shown -much hostility to all other means of enlightening the natives except -their own. But things are quieter just now, and over the whole mission -itself broods that sense of beauty and calm which seems almost peculiar -to Catholicism. One felt it in the gateway with its bell, in the rooms, -whitewashed and unadorned, in the banana-walk through the garden, in -the workshops, and even under that hideous tin roof, when some eighty -native men and women knelt on the bare, earthen floor during the Mass -at dawn. - -It is said, but I do not know with what truth, that the Fathers buy -from the slave-traders all the “boys” whom they bring up in the -mission. The Fathers themselves steadily avoided the subject in -conversing with me, but I think it is very probable. About half a mile -off is a Sisters’ mission, where a number of girls are trained in -the same way. When the boys and girls intermarry, as they generally -do, they are settled out in villages within sight of the mission. -I counted five or six such villages, and this seems to show, though -it does not prove, that most of the boys and girls came originally -from a distance, or have no homes to return to. On the whole, I am -inclined to believe that but for slavery the mission’s work must have -taken a different form. But why the Fathers should be so cautious -about confessing it I do not know, unless they are afraid of being -called supporters of the slave-trade because they buy off a few of its -victims, and so might be counted among its customers. - -From Caconda it took me only three weeks with the wagon to reach the -Bihé district, which, I believe, was a record for the wet season. -There are five rivers to cross, all of them difficult, and the first -and last--the Cuando and the Kukema--dangerous as well. The track also -skirts round the marshy source of other great watercourses, and it was -with delight that I found myself at the morass which begins the great -river Cunene, and, better still, at a little “fairy glen” of ferns and -reeds where the Okavango drips into a tiny basin, and dribbles down -till it becomes the great river which fills Lake Ngami--Livingstone’s -Lake Ngami, so far away, on the edge of Khama’s country! - -The wagon had, besides, to struggle across many of those high, upland -bogs which are the terror of the transport-rider in summer-time. The -worst and biggest of these is a wide expanse something like an Irish -bog or a wet Salisbury Plain, which the Portuguese call Bourru-Bourru, -from the native Vulu-Vulu. It is over five thousand feet above the -sea, and so bare and dreary that when the natives see a white man with -a great bald head they call it his Vulu-Vulu. It was almost exactly -midsummer there when I crossed it, and I threw no shadow at noon, -but at night I was glad to cower over a fire, with all the coats and -blankets I had got, while the mosquitoes howled round me as if for -warmth. - -Two points of history I must mention as connected with this part of my -journey. The day after I crossed the Calei I came, while hunting, to a -rocky hill with a splendid view over the valley, only about a mile from -the track. On the top of the hill I found the remains of ancient stone -walls and fortifications--a big circuit wall of piled stones, an inner -circle, or keep, at the highest point, and many cross-walls for streets -or houses. The whole was just like the remains of some rude mediæval -fortress, and it may possibly have been very early Portuguese. More -likely, it was a native chief’s kraal, though they build nothing of -the kind now. Among the natives themselves there is a vague tradition -of a splendid ancient city in this region, which they remember as “The -Mountain of Money.” Possibly this was the site, and it is strange that -no Boers or other transport-riders I met had ever seen the place. - -The other point comes a little farther on--about three days after -one crosses the Cunughamba. It is the place by the roadside where, -three years ago, the natives burned a Portuguese trader alive and -made fetich-medicine of his remains. It happened during the so-called -“Bailundu war” of 1902, to which I have referred before. On the spot -I still found enough of the poor fellow’s bones to make any amount -of magic. But if bones were all, I could have gathered far more in -the deserted village of Candombo close by. Here a great chief had his -kraal, surrounded by ancient trees, and clustered round one of the -mightiest natural fortresses I have ever seen. It rises above the trees -in great masses and spires of rock, three or four hundred feet high, -and in the caves and crevasses of those rocks, now silent and deserted, -I found the pitiful skeletons of the men, women, and children of all -the little tribe, massacred in the white man’s vengeance. Whether the -vengeance was just or unjust I cannot now say. I only know that it was -exacted to the full. - - - - -V - -THE AGENTS OF THE SLAVE-TRADE - - -The few English people who have ever heard of Bihé at all probably -imagine it to themselves as a largish town in Angola famous for its -slave-market. Nothing could be less like the reality. There is no town, -and there is no slave-market. Bihé is a wide district of forest and -marsh, part of the high plateau of interior Africa. It has no mountains -and no big rivers, except the Cuanza, which separates it from the land -of the Chibokwe on the east. So that the general character of the -country is rather indistinctive, and you might as well be in one part -of it as another. In whatever place you are, you will see nothing but -the broad upland, covered with rather insignificant trees, and worn -into quiet slopes by the action of the water, which gathers in morasses -of long grass, hidden in the midst of which runs a deep-set stream. -Except that it is well watered, fairly cool, and fairly healthy, there -is no great attraction in the region. There are a good many leopards -and a few wandering lions in the north. Hippos come up the larger -streams to breed, and occasionally you may see a buck or two. But -it is a poor country for beasts and game, and poor for produce too, -though the orange orchards and strawberry-beds at the mission stations -show it is capable of better things. On the whole, the impression of -the country is a certain want of character. Often while I have been -plodding through woods looking over a grassy valley I could have -imagined myself in Essex, except that here there are no white roads and -no ancient villages. The whole scene is so unlike the popular idea of -tropical Africa that it is startling to meet a naked savage carrying a -javelin, and almost shocking to meet a lady with only nine inches of -dress. - -There is no town and no public slave-market. The Portuguese fort -at Belmonte, once the home of that remarkable man and redoubtable -slave-trader, Silva Porto, and the scene of his rather splendid suicide -in 1890, may be taken as the centre of the district. But there are -only two or three Portuguese stores gathered round it, and scattered -over the whole country there are only a very limited number of other -trading-houses, the largest being the headquarters of the Commercial -Company of Angola, established at Caiala, one day’s journey from the -fort. The trading-houses are, I think, without exception, worked -by slave labor, as are the few plantations of sweet-potato for the -manufacture of rum, which, next to cotton cloth, is the chief -coinage in all dealings with the natives. The exchange from the native -side consists chiefly of rubber, oxen, and slaves, a load of rubber -(say fifty to sixty pounds), an ox, and a young slave counting as about -equal in the recognized currency. In English money we might put the -value at £9. - -[Illustration: CARRIERS ON THE MARCH] - -It is through these trading-houses that the slave-trade has hitherto -been chiefly conducted, and if you want slaves you can buy them readily -from any of the larger houses still. But the Bihéans have themselves -partly to blame for the ill repute of their country. They are born -traders, and will trade in anything. For generations past, probably -long before the Portuguese established their present feeble hold upon -the country, the Ovimbundu, as they are called, have been sending their -caravans of traders far into the interior--far among the tributaries -of the Congo, and even up to Tanganyika and the great lakes. Like all -traders in Central Africa, they tramp in single file along the narrow -and winding foot-paths which are the roads and trade routes of the -country. They carry their goods on their heads or shoulders, clamped -with shreds of bark between two long sticks, which act as levers. The -regulation load is about sixty pounds, but for his own interest a man -will sometimes carry double as much. As a rule, they march five or six -hours a day, and it takes them about two months to reach the villages -of Nanakandundu, which may be taken as the centre of African trade, -as it is the central point of the long and marshy watershed which -divides the Zambesi from the Congo. For merchandise, they carry with -them cotton cloth, beads, and salt, and at present they are bringing -out rubber for the most part and a little beeswax. As to slaves, guns, -gunpowder, and cartridges are the best exchange for them, owing to -the demand for such things among the “Révoltés”--the cannibal and -slave-dealing tribes who are holding out against the Belgians among the -rivers west of the Katanga district. But the conditions of this caravan -slave-trade have been a good deal changed in the last three years, and -I shall be able to say more about it after my farther journey into the -interior. - -As traders, the Bihéans have gained certain advantages. Their Umbundu -language almost takes the place in Central West Africa that the -Swahili takes on the eastern side. It will carry you fairly well, -at all events, along the main foot-paths of trade. They are richer -than other tribes, too; they live a little better, they wear rather -larger cloths, and get more to eat. But they are naturally despised by -neighbors who live by fighting, hunting, fishing, and the manly arts. -They are tainted with the softness of trade. In the rising against the -Portuguese in 1902, which brought such benefits to all this part of -Angola, nearly all of them refused to take any share. They are losing -all skill and delight in war. They are almost afraid of their own oxen, -and scarcely have the courage to train them. For the wilder side of -African life a Bihéan is becoming almost as useless as a board-school -boy from Hackney. For skill or sense of beauty in the common arts of -metal-work, wood-work, basket-weaving, or ornament, they cannot compare -to any of the neighboring tribes. In fact, they are a commercial -people, and they pay the full penalty which all commercial peoples have -to pay. - -Away from the main trade route the country is rather thickly inhabited. -The villages lie scattered about in clusters of five or six together. -All are strongly stockaded, for custom rather than defence (unless -against leopards), and all have rough gates of heavy swinging beams -that can be dropped at night, like a portcullis. Most people would say -the huts were round; but only the cattle-breeding tribes, like the -Ovampos in the south, have round huts. The Bihéan huts are intended to -be oblong or square, but as natives have no eye for the straight line, -and the roofs are invariably conical, one is easily mistaken. Except to -those who have seen nothing better than the filth and grime of English -cities, the villages would not appear remarkably clean. They cannot -compare for neatness and careful arrangement to the Zulu villages, -for instance, nor even to the neighboring Chibokwe. But each family -has its separate enclosure, with huts according to its size or the -number of the wives, and usually a little patch of garden--for peppers, -tomatoes the size of damsons, and perhaps some tobacco. Somewhere in -the centre of the enclosures there is sure to be a largish open space -with a town hall or public club (onjango). This is much the same in -all villages in Central Africa--a pointed, shady roof, supported by -upright beams, set far enough apart to admit of entrance on any side. -It serves as a parliament-house, a court of justice, a general workshop -(especially for metal-workers among the Chibokwe), and for lounge, or -place of conversation and agreeable idleness. Perhaps a good club is -the best idea we can form of it. It forms a meeting-place for politics, -news, chatter, money-making, and games, nor have I ever seen a woman -inside. - -On the dusty floor a piece of hard ground, three or four inches above -the rest of the surface, is usually left as the throne or place of -honor for the chief. There he reclines, or sits on a stool six inches -high, and exercises the usual royal functions. He is clothed in apparel -which one soon comes to recognize as kingly. It is some sort of cap or -hat and a shirt. The original owners of both were probably European, -but time enough has elapsed to secure them the veneration due to the -symbols of established authority, and they are covered with layer -upon layer of tradition. Thus arrayed, the chief sits from morning -till evening in the very heart of his kingdom and contemplates its -existence. Sometimes a criminal case or a dispute about debt comes up -for his decision. Then he has the assistance of three elders of the -village, and in extreme cases he is supposed to seek the wisdom of -the white man at the fort. But the expense of such wisdom is at least -equal to its value, and rather than risk the delay, the uncertainty -of justice, and the certainty of some contribution to the legal fees -in pigs, oxen, or rubber, the villagers usually settle up their own -differences more quickly and good-naturedly now than they used, and -so out of the strong comes forth sweetness. In the last resort the -ancient tests of poison and boiling water are still regarded as final -(as, indeed, they are likely to be), and men who have lived long in -the country and know it well assure me that those tests are still -recommended by the wisdom of the white man at the fort. - -Adjoining the public square the chief has his own enclosure, with the -royal hut for his wives, who may number anything from four to ten or -so, the number, as in all countries, being regulated by the expense. -Leaving the politics, law, games, and other occupations of public life -to the more strictly intellectual sex, the wives, like the other women -of the village, follow the primeval labor of the fields (which, as a -rule, are of their own making), and go out at dawn with basket and hoe -on their heads and babies wrapped to their backs, returning in the -afternoon to pound the meal in wooden mortars, and otherwise prepare -the family’s food. - -I have had difficulty in finding out why one man is chief rather -than another. It is not entirely a matter of blood or of wealth, -still less of character. But all these go for something, and the -villagers themselves appear to have a certain voice in the selection, -though the choice must lie within the bounds of the “blood royal.” -Constitutionally, I believe, the same principle holds in the case of -the British crown. I have never heard of a disputed succession in an -African village, though disputes often arise in the larger tribes, as -among the Cunyami, where a very intelligent chief was lately poisoned -by his brother, as too peaceable and philosophic for a king. But there -is no longer a king or head chief in Bihé. The last was captured over -twenty years ago, after a mythical resistance in his umbala or capital -of Ekevango, the ancient trees of which can be seen from the American -mission at Kamundongo. So he joined the kings in exile, and, I believe, -still drags out an existence of memories in the Santiago of Portuguese -Guinea. There remain the chiefs of districts, and the headmen of -villages, and though, as I have described, their state is hardly to be -distinguished from that of royalty, they are generally allowed to live -to enjoy it. - -But best of all I like a chief in his moments of condescension, when -he steps down from his four inches of mud and squats in the level -dust with the rest, just to show the young men how games should be -played. Chiefs appear to be specially good at the games which take -the place of cards and similar leisurely pastimes in European courts. -The favorite is a mixture of backgammon and “Archer up.” It is played -either on a hewn log or in the dust, and consists in getting a large -number of beans through four rows of holes. At first it looks like “go -as you please,” but in time, as you watch, certain rules rise out of -chaos, and you find that the best player really wins. The best player -is nearly always the chief, and I have no doubt he devotes long hours -of his magnificent leisure to pondering over the more scientific -aspects of the pursuit. In the same way one has heard of European kings -renowned for their success at Monte Carlo, baccarat, and bridge. - -But, besides the games, the chiefs are the repositories of traditional -wisdom, and for this function it is harder to find a parallel among -civilized courts. The wisdom is usually expressed in symbolic diagrams -upon the dust. In his moments of fatherly instruction the chief will -smooth a surface with his hand, and on it trace with his fingers a -mystic line--I think it must always be a continuous and unbroken -line--which expresses some secret of human existence. Sometimes the -design is merely heraldic, as in this conventional figure of a -one-headed eagle, which I recommend to the German Emperor for a new -flag. But generally there is a hidden significance, not to be detected -without superior information. The chief, for instance, will imprint -five spots on the sand, and round them trace an interminable line -which just misses each spot in turn. The five spots signify the vain -ambitions of man, and the line is man’s vain effort ever to reach -them. Or again, he will mark nine points with his finger on the sand -and trace a line which will surround eight of them and always come -back to the ninth, which stands in the centre. Till superior wisdom -informed you, probably you would hardly guess that the eight points are -the “thoughts” of man, and that the ninth, to which the line always -returns, is the end of the whole matter--that no solution of the -thoughts of man is ever to be found: - - “Earth could not answer, nor the seas that mourn.” - -It is surprising to find a philosophy so Omarian so far from Nashipur -and Babylon, but there it is. - -The Ovimbundu of Bihé, like all the natives in this part of Africa, -have also a large stock of proverbs. Out of a number of Umbundu -proverbs I have heard, we may take three as pretty fair samples of -wisdom: “If you miss, don’t break your bow,” which I like better than -the English doggerel of, “Try, try, try again,” or, “A bad carpenter -quarrels with his tools”; “Speak of water and the fish are gone,” -a proverb that will bear many interpretations, though I think it -really means, “Never introduce your donah to your pal”; and, “The lion -needs no servant,” which I like best of all, but can find no parallel -for among a race so naturally snobbish as ourselves. A variation of -the proverb runs, “A pig has no servant, a lion needs none.” I have -heard many stories of folk-lore, too--legends or fables of animals, -something in the manner of “Uncle Remus.” As that the mole came late -and got no tail, or that the hen one day claimed the crocodile for her -brother, and all the beasts, under the hippo, assembled to support the -crocodile, and all the birds, under the eagle, to support the hen. -After long argument the hen demanded whether the crocodile did not -spring from an egg like herself. The claim was admitted, and since then -the crocodile and the hen have been brother and sister. - -More in the character of “Uncle Remus” is the favorite story how the -dog became the friend of man. Once upon a time a leopard intrusted a -starving dog with the care of her cubs. All went well till a turtle -appeared upon the scene and induced the dog to bring out one of the -cubs and share it between them, saying she could show the leopard -the same cub twice over and persuade her that the whole brood was -flourishing. This went on very satisfactorily for some days, the dog -and turtle devouring a cub daily, and the dog producing one of the cubs -for the leopard’s inspection twice, three times, four times over, as -the case demanded. At last only one cub was left alive, and it had to -be produced eight or nine times, according to the original number of -the litter. Next day there was no cub left at all, and the dog invited -the leopard to walk into the den and contemplate her healthy young -nursery for herself. No sooner had she entered the cave than the dog -bolted for the nearest village, and rushed among the huts, crying, -“Man, man, the leopard is coming!” Since which day the dog has never -left the village, but has remained the friend of man. - -Nearly akin to folk-lore are the quaint sayings and brief stories -which sum up the daily experience of a people. Take, for instance, -this dilemma, turning on an antipathy which appears to be the common -heritage of all mankind: “I go to bury my mother-in-law. The king sends -for me to attend his council. If I do not go to the king, he will cut -my head off. If I do not bury my mother-in-law, she may come to life. -I go to bury my mother-in-law.” More unusual to English ears was the -statement made quite seriously in my presence by a young man who was -inquiring about the manner of life in England. “If you can buy things -there,” he said, “there is no need to marry.” Certainly not; when -you can buy meal in a shop, why expose yourself to the annoyance and -irritation of keeping wives to sow and gather and pound and sift the -mealies for you? - -Like all the tribes of this region, the Bihéans are much given to -dancing, especially under a waxing moon, and when the dry season is -just beginning--say in the end of April. It so happens that the Bihéan -dances I have seen have been almost always the dances of children, and -they were very pretty. Sometimes a girl is lifted on the hands of a -group of children and jumped up and down in that perilous position, -while the others dance and sing round her. Sometimes the dance is a -kind of “hen and chickens” or “prisoners’ base.” But the prettiest -dance I know is the frog dance, in which the children crouch down in -rows and leap over the ground, clapping their elbows sharply against -their naked sides, with exactly the effect of Spanish castanets, while -their hard, bare feet stamp the dust in time. Then they have a game -something like “hunt the slipper,” two rows sitting on the ground -opposite each other, and tossing about a knotted cloth with their -legs. All these dances and games are accompanied by monotonous and -violent singing, the words of the song being repeated over and over -again. They are generally of the simplest kind, and have no apparent -connection with the dance. The song which I heard to the frog dance, -for instance, ran: “I am going to my mother in the village. I am going -to my mother in the village.” - -Various musical instruments are used all through this part of Africa, -perhaps the simplest being the primeval fiddle. A string of bark is -stretched across half a gourd, and made to vibrate with a notched -stick drawn to and fro across it. The player holds the gourd against -his breastbone, and hisses through his teeth in time to the movement, -sometimes adding a few words of song. After an hour or so he thus -works himself and his audience up almost to hypnotic frenzy. If this -is the simplest instrument, the alimba is the most elaborate. It is -a series of wooden slats--twelve or fourteen--attached to a curved -framework about six feet long. Behind the slats gourds are fixed -as sounding-boards, but the number of gourds does not necessarily -correspond to the slats. The player squats in the middle of the curve -and strikes the wood with rubber hammers. Though there is no true scale -of any kind, the individual notes are often fine and the result very -beautiful, especially before the singing begins. - -But the true instruments of Central Africa are the ochisanji and -the drum. The ochisanji is the primeval piano, a row of iron keys -(sometimes two rows) being laid upon a small oblong board, which -is covered with carving. The keys are played with the thumbs, and -some loose beads or bits of iron at the bottom of the board set up a -rattling which, to us, does not improve the music. But it is really -a beautiful instrument, and I can well imagine that when a native hears -it far from his village he is filled with the same yearning that a -Swiss feels at the sound of a cow-horn. It is the common accompaniment -to all native songs, the words being spoken to it rather than sung. -Nearly all carriers have an ochisanji tied round their necks, and one -of my carriers used to sing me a minor song, lamenting his poverty, his -loss of an ox, and loss of a lover, and between each verse he put in -a sobbing refrain, very musical and melancholy. The ochisanji also is -sometimes laid across half a hollow gourd, to improve the tone. - -[Illustration: BIHÉAN MUSICIANS] - -And then there is the drum! The drum is undoubtedly as much the -national instrument of Africa as the bagpipe is of Scotland. It is -made out of almost anything--the bark of a tree stitched together into -a cylinder and covered with goat-skin at each end, or a hollow stump, -or even a large gourd will serve. But there is one kind of drum valued -above all others--so precious that, when a village owns one, it is -kept in a little house all to itself. This drum is shaped just like an -old-fashioned carpet-bag, half open, except that the top is longer than -the bottom. It measures about four feet high by three feet long, and is -about eight inches broad at the bottom, the sides tapering as towards -the mouth. The inside is hollowed out with axes, the whole being made -of one solid block of wood. Half-way along the sides, near the top or -mouth, rough lumps of rubber are fixed, and these are thumped either -with a rubber-headed drumstick or with the fist, while a second player -taps the wood with a bit of stick. The result is the most overwhelming -sound I have heard. I know the war-drum, and I know the glory of the -drums in the Ninth Symphony, but I have never known an instrument that -had such an effect upon the mind as this African ochingufu. To me it -is intensely depressing. At its first throb my heart sinks into my -boots. Far from being roused to battle by such a sound, my instinct -would be to hide under the blanket. But to the native soul it is truly -inspiring. To all their great dances this is the sole accompaniment, -and for hour after hour of the night they will keep up its unvaried -beat without intermission, one drummer after another taking his turn, -while the dance goes on, and from time to time the dancers and the -crowd raise their monotonous chant. The invention of this terrible -instrument was altogether beyond Bihéan art, though they sometimes -imitate the models for themselves. But the greater number of the drums -are still imported from the far interior, around the sources of the -Zambesi, and they have become a regular article of commerce. Many -a time, along the great foot-path of trade, I have seen a carrier -bringing down the drum as part of his load from some village hundreds -of miles east of Bihé, and I have wondered at the demon of terror and -revelry which lay enchanted in that common-looking piece of hollow wood. - -But then the whole country is full of other demons, not of revelry, -but certainly of terror. At the gates (that is, the narrow gaps in the -stockade) of nearly all villages stands a little cluster of sticks with -the skulls of antelopes on their tops. Sometimes the sticks are roofed -over with a little straw. Sometimes they are tied up with strips of -cloth like little flags, or a few bits of broken pot are laid in the -shrine and a little meal is scattered around. Often a similar shrine is -set up inside the village itself, and where a chief lives in his umbala -or capital among the ancient trees it will very likely have developed -into a “Kandundu”--the abode of a great magic spirit, who dwells in a -kind of cage on the top of a long pole. The worship of the Kandundu is -in some vague way connected with a frog, and the spirit is supposed to -reveal himself and utter his oracles to the witch-doctor in that form. -But if you get a chance of exploring that cage on the palm pole, you -generally find no frog, but only greasy rags. The bright point about -the Kandundu is that the spirit can become actively benevolent instead -of being merely a terror to be averted, like most of the spirits in -Africa. The same high praise can also be given to Okevenga, whose name -may be connected with the great river Okavango, and who is certainly -a benevolent spirit, watching over women, and helping them with their -fields, their sowing, and their children. - -These are the only two exceptions I have hitherto met with to the -general malignity of the spiritual world in this part of Africa. The -spirits of the dead are always evil disposed, when they return at -all, and they are the common agents of the witchcraft that plays so -large a part in village life and is the cause of so much slavery. It -is not uncommon for a woman to kill herself in order to haunt her -mother-in-law or another wife of whom she is jealous. And it is partly -to keep the spirit quiet for the year or so before it gradually fades -away into nothingness that poles surmounted by the skulls of oxen are -set above a grave. Partly also this is to display the wealth of the -family, which could afford to kill an ox or two at the funeral feast; -just as in England the mass of granite heaped upon a tomb is intended -rather to establish the respectability of the deceased than to secure -his repose. - -Slavery exists quite openly throughout Bihé in the three forms of -family slavery among the natives themselves, domestic slavery to the -Portuguese traders, and slavery on the plantations. The purchase of -slaves is rendered easier by certain native customs, especially by the -peculiar law which gives the possession of the children to the wife’s -brother, even during the lifetime of both parents. The law has many -advantages in a polygamous country, and the parents can redeem their -children and make them their own property by various payments, but, -unless the children are redeemed, the wife’s brother can claim them -for the payment of his own debts or the debts of his village. I think -this is chiefly done in the payment of family debts for witchcraft, -and I have seen a case in which, for a debt of that kind, a mother has -been driven to pawn her own child herself. Her brother had murdered -her eldest boy, and, going into the interior to trade, had died there. -Of course his wives and other relations charged her with witchcraft -through her murdered boy’s spirit, and she was condemned to pay a fine. -She had nothing to pay but her two remaining children, and as the girl -was married and with child, she was unwilling to take her. So she -pawned her little boy to a native for the sum required, though she knew -he would almost certainly be sold as a slave to the Portuguese long -before she could redeem him, and she would have no chance of redress. - -In that particular case, which happened recently, a missionary, who -knew the boy, advanced an ox in his place; but the missionary’s -intervention was, of course, entirely accidental, and the facts are -only typical of the kind of thing that is repeatedly happening in -places where there is no one to help or to know. - -In a village in the northwest of Bihé I have seen a man--the headman -of the place--who has been gradually tempted on by a Portuguese trader -till he has sold all his children and all the other relations in his -power for rum. Last of all, one morning at the beginning of this winter -(1905), he told his wife to smarten herself up and come with him to -the trader’s house. She appears to have been a particularly excellent -woman, of whom he was very fond. Yet when they arrived at the store he -received a keg of rum and went home with it, leaving his wife as the -trader’s property. - -In the same district I met a boy who told me how his father was sold -in the middle of last January. They were slaves to a native named -Onbungululu in the village of Chariwewa, and his father, in company -with twenty other of the slaves, was sold to a certain Portuguese -trader, who acts on behalf of the “Central Committee of Labor and -Emigration,” and was draughted quietly away through the bush for the -plantations in San Thomé. - -To show how low the price of human beings will run, I may mention a -case that happened in January, 1905, on the Cuanza, just over the -northeast frontier of Bihé. I think I noticed in an earlier chapter -that there was much famine there last winter, and so it came about that -a woman was sold for forty yards of cloth and a pig (cloth being worth -about fourpence a yard), and was brought into Bihé by the triumphant -purchaser. - -But that was an exception, and the following instance of the -slave-trader’s ways is more typical. Last summer a Portuguese, who is -perhaps the most notorious and reckless slave-trader now living in -Bihé, and whose name is familiar far in the interior of Africa, sent a -Bihéan into the southern Congo with orders to bring out so many slaves -and with chains to bind them. As the Bihéan was returning with the -slaves, one of them escaped, and the trader demanded another slave and -three loads of rubber as compensation. This the Bihéan has now paid, -but in the mean time the trader’s personal slaves have attacked and -plundered his village. The trader himself is at present away on his -usual business in the remote region of the Congo basin called Lunda, -and it is thought his return is rather doubtful; for the “Révoltés” and -other native tribes in those parts accuse him of selling cartridges -that will not fit their rifles. But he appears to have been flourishing -till quite lately, for the natives in the village where I am staying -say that he has sent out a little gang of seven slaves, which passed -down the road only the day before yesterday, on their way to San Thomé. - -But about that road, which has been for centuries the main slave route -from the interior to the Portuguese coast, I shall say more in my next -letter, when I have myself passed up and down it for some hundreds of -miles and had an opportunity of seeing its present condition. - - - - -VI - -THE WORST PART OF THE SLAVE ROUTE - - -I was going east along the main trade route--the main slave route--by -which the Bihéans pass to and fro in their traffic with the interior. -It is but a continuation of the track from Benguela, on the coast, -through the district of Bihé, and it follows the long watershed of -Central Africa in the same way. The only place where that watershed is -broken is at the passage of the Cuanza, which rises far south of the -bank of high ground, but has made its way northward through it at a -point some three days’ journey east of the Bihéan fort at Belmonte, and -so reaches the sea on the west coast, not very far below Loanda. - -It forms the frontier of Bihé, dividing that race of traders from the -primitive and savage tribes of the interior. But on both sides along -its banks and among its tributaries you find the relics of other races -of very different character from the Bihéans--the Luimbi, whose women -still wear the old coinage of white cowry-shells in their hair, and the -Luchazi, who support their loads with a strap round their foreheads, -like the Swiss, and whose women dress their hair with red mud, and -carry their babies straddled round the hip instead of round the back. - -Going eastward along this pathway into the interior, I had reached the -banks of the Cuanza one evening towards the end of the wet season. It -had been raining hard, but at sunset there was a sullen clear which -left the country steaming with damp. On my left I could hear the roar -of the Cuanza rapids, where the river divides among rocky islands and -rushes down in breakers and foam. And far away, across the river’s -broad valley, I could see the country into which I was going--straight -line after line of black forest, with the mist rising in pallid lines -between. It was like a dreary skeleton of the earth. - -[Illustration: CROSSING THE CUANZA] - -Such was my first sight of “the Hungry Country”--that accursed stretch -of land which reaches from just beyond the Cuanza almost to the -Portuguese fort at Mashiko. How far that may be in miles I cannot say -exactly. A rapid messenger will cover the distance in seven days, but -it took me nine, and it takes most people ten or twelve. My carriers -had light loads, and in spite of almost continuous fevers and poisoned -feet we went fast, walking from six till two or even four o’clock -without food, so that, even allowing for delays at the deep morasses -and rivers and the long climbs up the forest hills, I think we cannot -have averaged less than twenty miles a day, and probably we often made -twenty-five. I should say that the distance from the Cuanza to Mashiko -must be somewhere about two hundred and fifty miles, and it is Hungry -Country nearly the whole way. - -Still less is it certain how far the district extends in breadth -from north to south. I have often looked from the top of its highest -uplands, where a gap in the trees gave me a view, in the hope of seeing -something beyond. But, though the hill might be six thousand feet above -the sea, I could never get a sight of anything but forest, and still -more forest, till the waves of the land ended in a long, straight -line of blue--almost as straight and blue as the sea--and nothing but -forest all the way, with not a trace of man. Yet the whole country is -well watered. Deep and clear streams run down the middle of the open -marshes between the hills. For the first day or two of the journey they -flow back into the Cuanza basin, but when you have climbed the woody -heights beyond, you find them running north into the Kasai, that great -tributary of the Congo, and south into the Lungwebungu or the Luena, -the tributaries of the Zambesi. At some points you stand at a distance -of only two days’ journey from the Kasai and the Lungwebungu on either -side, and there is water flowing into them all the year round. In -Africa it is almost always the want of water that makes a Hungry -Country, but here the rule does not hold. - -At first I thought the character of the soil was sufficient reason for -the desert. Except for the black morasses, it is a loose white sand -from end to end. The sand drifts down the hills like snow, and banks -itself up along any sheltered or level place, till as you plod through -it hour after hour, almost ankle-deep, while your shadow gradually -swallows itself up as the sun climbs the sky, your only thought becomes -a longing for water and a longing for one small yard of solid ground. -The trees are poor and barren, and I noticed that the farther I went -the soft joints of the grasses, which ought to be sweet, became more -and more bitter, till they tasted like quinine. - -This may be the cause of another thing I noticed. All living creatures -in this region are crazy for salt, just like oxen on a “sour veldt.” -Salt is far the best coinage you can take among the Chibokwe. I do not -mean our white table-salt. They reject that with scorn, thinking it -is sugar or something equally useless; but for the coarse and dirty -“bay-salt” they will sell almost anything, and a pinch of it is a -greater treat to a child than a whole bride-cake would be in England. - -I have tested it especially with the bees that swarm in these forests -and produce most of the beeswax that goes to Europe. I first noticed -their love of salt when I salted some water one afternoon in the -vain hope of curing the poisoned sores on my feet. In half an hour -the swarms of bees had driven me from my tent. I was stung ten times, -and had to wait about in the forest till the sun set, when the bees -vanished, as by signal. - -Another afternoon I tested them by putting a heap of sugar, a paper -smeared with condensed milk, and a bag of salt tightly wrapped up in -tar-paper side by side on the ground. I gave them twenty minutes, and -then I found nothing on the sugar, five flies on the milk, and the -tar-paper so densely covered with bees that they overlapped one another -as when they swarm. For want of anything better, they will fight over -a sweaty shirt in the same way; and once, by the banks of a stream, -they sent all my carriers howling along the path by creeping up under -their loin-cloths. The butterflies seek salt also. If you spread out -a damp rag anywhere in tropical Africa, you will soon have brilliant -butterflies on it. But if you add a little salt in the Hungry Country, -the rag will be a blaze of colors, unless the bees come and drive the -butterflies off. - -As I said, the natives feel the longing too. Among the Chibokwe, the -women burn a marsh-grass into a potash powder as a substitute; and if -a native squats down in front of you, puts out a long, pink tongue and -strokes it appealingly with his finger, you may know it is salt he -wants. The scarcity has become worse since the Belgians, following -their usual highwayman methods, have robbed the natives of the great -salt-pans in the south of the Congo State and made them a trade -monopoly. - -[Illustration: NATIVES BURNING GRASS FOR SALT] - -In the character of the soil, then, there seemed to be sufficient -reason for the name of the country, and I should have been satisfied -with it but for distinct evidences that a few spots along the path -have been inhabited not so very long ago. Here and there you come upon -plants which grow generally or only on the site of deserted villages or -fields; such as the atundwa--a plant with branching fronds that smell -like walnut leaves. It yields a fruit whose hard and crimson case just -projects from the ground and holds a gray bag of seeds, very sour, and -almost as good to eat or drink as lemons. But still more definite is -the evidence of travellers, like the missionary explorer Mr. Arnot, who -first traversed the country over twenty years ago, and has described -to me the villages he found there then. There was, for instance, the -large Chibokwe town of Peho, which was built round the head of a marsh -close upon the main path some two or three days west of Mashiko. You -will still find the place marked, about the size of London, on any map -of Angola or Africa, but I have looked everywhere for it along the -route in vain. A Portuguese once told me he thought it was a few days’ -journey north of his house near Mashiko. But he was wrong. The whole -place has entirely disappeared, and has less right than Nineveh to a -name on a modern map.[1] - -The Chibokwe have a custom of destroying their villages and abandoning -the site whenever a chief dies, and this in itself is naturally very -puzzling to all geographers. But I think it hardly explains the utter -abandonment of the Hungry Country. It is commonly supposed that no -wild animals will live in the region, but that is not true, either. -Many times, when I have wandered away from the foot-path, I have put -up various antelopes--lechwe and duikers--and beside the marshes in -the early morning I have seen the fresh spoor of larger deer, as well -as of porcupines and wart-hogs. Cranes are fairly common, and green -parrots very abundant. Almost every night one hears the leopards roar. -“Roar” is not the word: it is that deep note of pleasurable expectancy -that they sound a quarter of an hour before feeding-time at the Zoo, -and they would not make that noise if there was nothing in the country -to eat. All these reasons put together drive me unwillingly to think -there may be some truth in the native belief that the whole land has -been laid under a curse which will never be removed. As I write, the -rumor reaches us that the basin of the Zambesi and all its tributaries -have just been awarded to Great Britain, so that nearly the whole of -the Hungry Country will come under English rule. It is important for -England, therefore, that the curse should be forgotten, and in time it -may be. All I know for certain is that undoubtedly a curse lies upon -the country now.[2] - -There are two ferries over the Cuanza, one close under the Portuguese -fort, the other a comfortable distance up-stream, well out of -observation. It is a typically Portuguese arrangement. The Commandant’s -duty is to stop the slave-trade, but how can he be expected to see what -is going on a mile or so away! Even as you come down to the river, you -find slave-shackles hanging on the bushes. You cross the stream in -dugout canoes, running the chance of being upset by one of the hippos -which snort and pant a little farther up. You enter the forest again, -and now the shackles are thick upon the trees. This is the place where -most of the slaves, being driven down from the interior, are untied. It -is safe to let them loose here. The Cuanza is just in front, and behind -them lies the long stretch of Hungry Country, which they could never -get through alive if they tried to run back to their homes. So it is -that the trees on the western edge of the Hungry Country bear shackles -in profusion--shackles for the hands, shackles for the feet, shackles -for three or four slaves who are clamped together at night. The drivers -hang them up with the idea of using them again when they return for the -next consignment of human merchandise; but, as a rule, I think, they -find it easier to make new shackles as they are wanted. - -A shackle is easily made. A native hacks out an oblong hole in a log -of wood with an axe; it must be big enough for two hands or two feet -to pass through, and then a wooden pin is driven through the hole from -side to side, so that the hands or feet cannot stir until it is drawn -out again. The two hands or feet do not necessarily belong to the same -person. You find shackles of various ages--some quite new, with the -marks of the axe fresh upon them, some old and half eaten by ants. But -none can be very old, for in Africa all dead wood quickly disappears, -and this is a proof that the slave-trade did not really end after the -war of 1902, as easy-going officials are fond of assuring us. - -When I speak of the shackles beside the Cuanza, I do not mean that -this is the only place where they are to be found. You will see them -scattered along the whole length of the Hungry Country; in fact, -I think they are thickest at about the fifth day’s journey. They -generally hang on low bushes of quite recent growth, and are most -frequent by the edge of the marshes. I cannot say why. There seems -to be no reason in their distribution. I have been assured that each -shackle represents the death of a slave, and, indeed, one often finds -the remains of a skeleton beside a shackle. But the shackles are so -numerous that if the slaves died at that rate even slave-trading would -hardly pay, in spite of the immense profit on every man or woman who -is brought safely through. It may often happen that a sick slave drags -himself to the water and dies there. It may be that some drivers think -they can do without the shackles after four or five days of the Hungry -Country. But at present I can find no satisfactory explanation of the -strange manner in which the shackles are scattered up and down the -path. I only know that between the Cuanza and Mashiko I saw several -hundreds of them, and yet I could not look about much, but had to watch -the narrow and winding foot-path close in front of me, as one always -must in Central Africa. - -[Illustration: SKELETON OF SLAVE ON A PATH THROUGH THE HUNGRY COUNTRY] - -That path is strewn with dead men’s bones. You see the white -thigh-bones lying in front of your feet, and at one side, among the -undergrowth, you find the skull. These are the skeletons of slaves who -have been unable to keep up with the march, and so were murdered or -left to die. Of course the ordinary carriers and travellers die too. -It is very horrible to see a man beginning to break down in the middle -of the Hungry Country. He must go on or die. The caravan cannot wait -for him, for it has food for only the limited number of days. I knew a -distressful Irishman who entered the route with hardly any provision, -broke down in the middle, and was driven along by his two carriers, -who threatened his neck with their axes whenever he stopped, and only -by that means succeeded in getting him through alive. Still worse was -a case among my own carriers--a little boy who had been brought to -carry his father’s food, as is the custom. He became crumpled up with -rheumatism, and I found he had bad heart-disease as well. He kept on -lying down in the path and refusing to go farther. Then he would creep -away into the bush and hide himself to die. We had to track him out, -and his father beat him along the march till the blood ran down his -back. - -But with slaves less trouble is taken. After a certain amount of -beating and prodding, they are killed or left to die. Carriers are -always buried by their comrades. You pass many of their graves, hung -with strips of rag or decorated with a broken gourd. But slaves are -never buried, and that is an evidence that the bones on the path are -the bones of slaves. The Bihéans have a sentiment against burying -slaves. They call it burying money. It is something like their strong -objections to burying debtors. The man who buries a debtor becomes -responsible for the debts; so the body is hung up on a bush outside -the village, and the jackals consume it, being responsible for nothing. - -Before the great change made by the “Bailundu war” of 1902, the horrors -of the Hungry Country were undoubtedly worse than they are now. I have -known Englishmen who passed through it four years ago and found slaves -tied to the trees, with their veins cut so that they might die slowly, -or laid beside the path with their hands and feet hewn off, or strung -up on scaffolds with fires lighted beneath them. My carriers tell me -that this last method of encouraging the others is still practised away -from the pathway, but I never saw it done myself. I never saw distinct -evidence of torture. The horrors of the road have certainly become -less in the last three years, since the rebellion of 1902. Rebellion -is always good. It always implies an unendurable wrong. It is the only -shock that ever stirs the self-complacency of officials. - -I have not seen torture in the Hungry Country. I have only seen murder. -Every bone scattered along that terrible foot-path from Mashiko to the -Cuanza is the bone of a murdered man. The man may not have been killed -by violence, though in most cases the sharp-cut hole in the skull shows -where the fatal stroke was given. But if he was not killed by violence, -he was taken from his home and sold, either for the buyer’s use, or -to sell again to a Bihéan, to a Portuguese trader, or to the agents -who superintend the “contract labor” for San Thomé, and are so useful -in supplying the cocoa-drinkers of England and America, as well as in -enriching the plantation-owners and the government. The Portuguese and -such English people as love to stand well with Portuguese authority -tell us that most of the men now sold as slaves are criminals, and so -it does not matter. Very well, then; let us make a lucrative clearance -of our own prisons by selling the prisoners to our mill-owners as -factory-hands. We might even go beyond our prisons. It is easy to prove -a crime against a man when you can get £10 or £20 by selling him. And -if each of us that has committed a crime may be sold, who shall escape -the shackles? - -The most recent case of murder that I saw was on my return through the -Hungry Country, the sixth day out from Mashiko. The murdered man was -lying about ten yards from the path hidden in deep grass and bracken. -But for the smell I should have passed the place without noticing -him as I have no doubt passed scores, and perhaps hundreds, of other -skeletons that lie hidden in that forest. How long the man had been -murdered I could not say, for decay in Africa varies with the weather, -but the ants generally contrive that it shall be quick. I think the -thing must have been done since I passed the place on my way into the -country, about a month before. But possibly it was a few days earlier. -My “headman” had heard of the event (a native hears everything), but it -did not impress him or the other carriers in the least. It was far too -common. Unhappily I do not understand enough Umbundu to make out the -exact date or the details, except that the man was a slave who broke -down with the usual shivering fever on the road and was killed with an -axe because he could go no farther. As to the cause of death there was -no doubt. When I tried to raise the head, the thick, woolly hair came -off in my hand like a woven pad, leaving the skull bare, and revealing -the deep gash made by the axe at the base of the skull just before it -merges with the neck. As I set it down again, the skull broke off from -the backbone and fell to one side. Having laid a little earth upon the -body, I went on. It would take an army of sextons to bury all the poor -bones which consecrate that path. - -Yet, in spite of the shackles hanging on the trees, and in spite of the -skeletons upon the path and the bodies of recently murdered men, I have -not seen a slave caravan such as has been described to me by almost -every traveller who has passed along that route into the interior. I -mean, I have not seen a gang of slaves chained together, their hands -shackled, and their necks held fast in forked sticks. I am not sure -of the reason; there were probably many reasons combined. It is just -the end of the wet season, just the time when the traders think of -sending in for slaves, and not of bringing them out. Directly the -natives in the Bihéan village near which I was staying heard I was -going to Mashiko, though they knew nothing of my object, they said, -“Now a messenger will be sent ahead to warn the slave-traders that -an Englishman is coming.” The same was told me by two Englishmen who -traversed the country last autumn for the mining concession, and in -my case I have not the slightest doubt that messengers were sent. -Again, a Portuguese trader, living on the farther side of the Hungry -Country, upon the Mushi-Moshi (the Simoï, as the Portuguese classically -call it), told me the drivers now bring the slaves through unknown -bush-paths north of the old route. He kept a store which, being on -the edge of the Hungry Country, was as frequented and lucrative as a -wine-and-spirit house must be on the frontier of a prohibition State. -And he was the only Portuguese I have met who recognized the natives as -fellow-subjects, and even as fellow-men, with rights of their own. He -also boasted, I think justly, of the good effects of the war in 1902. - -All these reasons may have contributed. But still I think that the -old caravan system has been reduced within the last three years. The -shock to public feeling in Portugal owing to the Bailundu war and its -revelations; the disgrace of certain officers at the forts, who were -convicted of taking a percentage of slaves from the passing caravans -as hush-money; the strong action of Captain Amorim in trying to -suppress the whole traffic; the instructions to the forts to allow no -chained gangs to pass--all these things have, I believe, acted as a -check upon the old-fashioned methods. There is also an increased risk -in obtaining slaves from the interior in large batches. The Belgians -strongly oppose the entrance of the traders into their state, partly -because guns and powder are the usual exchange for slaves, partly -because they wish to retain their own natives under their own tender -mercies. The line of Belgian forts along the frontier is quickly -increasing. Some Bihéan traders have been shot. In one recent case, -much talked of, a bullet from a Maxim gun struck the head of a gang -of slaves, marching as usual in single file, and killed nine in -succession. In any case, the traders seem to have discovered that the -palmy days when they used to parade their chained gangs through the -country, and burn, flog, torture, and cut throats as they pleased, are -over for the present. For many months after the war even the traffic -to San Thomé almost ceased. It has begun again now and is rapidly -increasing. As I noted in a former letter, an order was issued in -December, 1904, requiring the government agents to press on the supply. -But at present, I think, the slaves are coming down in smaller gangs. -They are not, as a rule, tortured; they are shackled only at night, -and the traders take a certain amount of pains to conceal the whole -traffic, or at least to make it look respectable. - -As to secrecy, they are not entirely successful. A man whose word no -one in Central Africa would think of doubting has just sent down notice -from the interior that a gang of two hundred and fifty slaves passed -through the Nanakandundu district, bound for the coast, in the end of -February (1905), shackles and all. The man who brought the message had -done his best to avoid the gang, fearing for his life. But there is -no doubt they are coming through, and I ought to have met them near -Mashiko if they had not taken a by-path or been broken up into small -groups. - -It was probably such a small group that I met within a day’s journey of -Caiala, the largest trading-house in Bihé. I was walking at about half -an hour’s distance from the road, when suddenly I came upon a party of -eighteen or twenty boys and four men hidden in the bush. At sight of -me they all ran away, the men driving the boys before them. But they -left two long chicotes or sjamboks (hide whips) hanging on the trees, -as well as the very few light loads they had with them. After a time -I returned, and they ran away again. I then noticed that they posted -a man on a tree-top to observe my movements, and he remained there -till I trekked on with my own people. Of course the evidence is not -conclusive, but it is suspicious. Men armed with chicotes do not hide -a group of boys in the bush for nothing, and it is most probable that -they formed part of a gang going into Bihé for sale. - -I may have passed many such groups on my journey without knowing it, -for it is a common trick of the traders now to get up the slaves as -ordinary carriers. But among all of them, there was only one which -was obviously a slave gang, almost without concealment. My carriers -detected them at once, and I heard the word “apeka” (slaves)[3] passed -down the line even before I came in sight of them. The caravan numbered -seventy-eight in all. In front and rear were four men with guns, and -there were six of them in the centre. The whole caravan was organized -with a precision that one never finds among free carriers, and nearly -the whole of it consisted of boys under fourteen. This in itself would -be almost conclusive, for no trade caravan would contain anything like -that proportion of boys, whereas boys are the most easily stolen from -native villages in the interior, and, on the whole, they pay the cost -of transport best. But more conclusive even than the appearance of the -gang was the quiet evidence of my own carriers, who had no reason for -lying, who never pointed out another caravan of slaves, and yet had not -a moment’s doubt as to this. - -The importation of slaves from the interior into Angola may not be what -it was. It may not be conducted under the old methods. There is no -longer that almost continuous procession of chained and tortured men -and women which all travellers who crossed the Hungry Country before -1902 describe. For the moment rubber has become almost as lucrative as -man. The traffic has been driven underground. There is now a feeling of -shame and risk about it, and the military authorities dare not openly -give it countenance as before. But I have never heard of any case in -which they openly interfered to stop it, and the thing still goes on. -It is, in fact, fast recovering from the shock of the rebellion of -1902, and is now increasing again every month. - -It will go on and it will increase as long as the authorities and -traders habitually speak of the natives as “dogs,” and allow the men -under their command to misuse them at pleasure. To-day a negro soldier -in the white Portuguese uniform seized a little boy at the head of -my carriers, pounded his naked feet with the butt of his rifle, and -was beating him unmercifully with the barrel, when I sprang upon him -with two javelins which I happened to be carrying because my rifle was -jammed. At sight of me the emblem of Portuguese justice crawled on the -earth and swore he did not know it was a white man’s caravan. That was -sufficient excuse. - -Three days ago word came to me on the march that one of my carriers had -been shot at and wounded. We were in a district where three Chibokwe -natives actually with shields and bows as well as guns had hung upon -our line as we went in. I had that morning warned the carriers for the -twentieth time that they must keep together, and had set an advanced -and rear guard, knowing that stray carriers were being shot down. -But natives are as incapable of organization as of seeing a straight -line, and my people were straggled out helplessly over a length of -five or six miles. Hurrying forward, I found that the bullet--a cube -of copper--had just missed my carrier’s head, had taken a chip out of -his hand, and gone through my box. The carrier behind had caught the -would-be murderer, and there he stood--a big Luvale man, with filed -teeth, and head shaved but for a little tuft or pad at the top. I -supposed he ought to be shot, but my rifle was jammed, and I am not a -born executioner. However, I cleared a half-circle and set the man in -the middle. A great terror came into his face as I went through the -loading motions. I had determined, having blindfolded him, to catch -him a full drive between the eyes. This would give him as great a -shock as death. He would think it was death, and yet would have time -to realize the horror of it afterwards, which in the case of death he -would not have. But when all was ready, my carriers, including the -wounded man, set up a great disturbance, and seized the muzzle of my -rifle and turned it aside. They kept shouting some reason which I did -not then understand. So I gave the punishment over to them, and they -took the man’s gun--a trade-gun or “Lazarino,” studded with brass -nails--stripped him of his powder-gourd, cloth, and all he had, beat -him with the backs of their axes, and drove him naked into the forest, -where he disappeared like a deer. - -I found out afterwards that their reason for clemency was the fear of -Portuguese vengeance upon their villages, because the man was employed -by the fort at Mashiko, and therefore claimed the right of shooting any -other native at sight, even over a minute’s dispute about yielding the -foot-path. - -Such small incidents are merely typical of the attitude which the -Portuguese take towards the natives and allow their own black soldiers -and slaves to take. As long as this attitude is maintained, the -immensely profitable slave-traffic which has filled with its horrors -this route for centuries past will continue to fill it with horrors, no -matter how secret or how legalized the traffic may become. - -I have pitched my tent to-night on a hill-side not far from the fort of -Matota, where a black sergeant and a few men are posted to police the -middle of the Hungry Country. In front of me a deep stream is flowing -down to the Zambesi with strong but silent current in the middle of a -marsh. The air is full of the cricket’s call and the other quiet sounds -of night. Now and then a dove wakes to the brilliant moonlight, and -coos, and sleeps again. Sometimes an owl cries, but no leopards are -abroad, and it would be hard to imagine a scene of greater peace or of -more profound solitude. And yet, along this path, there is no solitude, -for the dead are here; neither is there any peace, but a cry. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Commander Cameron describes the town and its chief, Mona Peho, in -_Across Africa_, p. 426 (1876). - -[2] The King of Italy’s award on the disputed frontier between British -Barotzeland and Portuguese Angola was not published, in fact, till -July, 1905. Great Britain received only part of her claim, and the -Hungry Country, together with the whole of the slave route, remains -under Portuguese misgovernment. - -[3] Properly speaking, vapeka is the plural of upeka, a slave, but in -Bihé apeka is used. - - - - -VII - -SAVAGES AND MISSIONS - - -The Chibokwe do not sell their slaves; they kill them; and this -distinction between them and the Bihéans is characteristic. The Bihéans -are carriers and traders. They always have an eye fixed on the margin -of profit. They will sell anything, including their own children, -and it is waste to kill a man who may be sold to advantage. But the -Chibokwe are savages of a wilder race, and no Bihéan would dare buy a -Chibokwe slave, even if they had the chance. They know that the next -Bihéan caravan would be cut to pieces on its way. - -It is impossible to fix the limits of the Chibokwe country. The people -are always on the move. It is partly the poverty of the land that -drives them about, partly their habit of burning the village whenever -the chief dies; and as villages go by the chief’s name, they are the -despair of geographers. But in entering the interior you may begin -to be on your guard against the Chibokwe two days after crossing -the Cuanza. They have a way of cutting off stray carriers, and, as -I mentioned in my last letter, my own little caravan was dogged by -three of them with shields and spears, who might have been troublesome -had they known that the Winchester with which I covered the rear was -only useful as a club. It was in the Chibokwe country, too, that the -one attempt was made to rob my tent at night, and again I only beat -off the thieves by making a great display with a jammed rifle. On one -side their villages are mixed up with the Luimbi, on the other with -the Luena people and the Luvale, who are scattered over the great, wet -flats between Mashiko and Nanakandundu. But they are a distinct people -in themselves, and they appear to be increasing and slowly spreading -south. If the King of Italy’s arbitration gives the Zambesi tributaries -to England, the Chibokwe will form the chief part of our new -fellow-subjects, and will share the legal advantages of Whitehall.[4] - -They file or break their teeth into sharp points, whereas the Bihéans -compromise by only making a blunt angle between the two in front. It -used to be said that pointed teeth were the mark of cannibalism, but I -think it more likely that these tribes at one time had the crocodile or -some sharp-toothed fish as their totem, and certainly when they laugh -their resemblance to pikes, sharks, or crocodiles is very remarkable. -Anyhow, the Chibokwe are not cannibals now, except for medicine, or -in the hope of acquiring the moral qualities of the deceased. But I -believe they eat the bodies of people killed by lightning or other -sudden death, and the Bihéans do the same. - -Though not so desert as the Hungry Country, the soil of their whole -district is poor, and the people live in great simplicity. Hardly -any maize is grown, and the chief food is the black bean, a meal -pounded from yellow millet, and a beetle about four inches long. In -all villages there are professional hunters and fishers, but game is -scarce, and the fish in such rivers as the Mushi-Moshi (Simoï) are not -allowed to grow much above the size of whitebait. Honey is to be found -in plenty, but for salt, which is their chief desire, they have to put -up with the ashes of a burned grass, unless they can buy real salt from -the Bihéans in exchange for millet or rubber. Just at present rubber -is their wealth, and they are doing rather a large trade in it. All -over the forests they are grubbing up the plant by the roots, and in -the villages you may hear the women pounding and tearing at it all the -afternoon. But rubber thus extirpated gives a brief prosperity, and in -two years, or five at the most, the rubber will be exhausted and the -Chibokwe thrown back on their natural poverty. - -In the arts they far surpass all their neighbors on the west side. -They are so artistic that the women wear little else but ornament. -Their houses are square or oblong, with clean angles and straight -sides, and the roofs, instead of being conical, are oblong too, having -a straight beam along the top, like an English cottage. The tribe -is specially famous for its javelins, spears, knives, hatchets, and -other iron-work, which they forge in the open spaces round the village -club-house, working up their little furnaces with wooden tubes and -bellows of goat-skin, like loose drum-heads, pulled up and down with -bits of stick to make a draught. A simple pattern is hammered on some -of the axes, and on the side of one hut I saw an attempt at fresco--a -white figure on a red ground under a white moon--the figure being quite -sufficiently like an ox. - -[Illustration: A CHIBOKWE FORGE WHERE NATIVE SPEARS ARE MADE] - -In dancing, the Chibokwe excel, like the Luvale people, who are their -neighbors on the eastern side, farther in the interior, and their -dances are much the same. It is curious that their favorite form is -almost exactly like the well-known Albanian dance of the Greeks. -Standing in a broken circle, they move round and round to a repeated -song, while the leader sets the pace, and now and again springs out -into the centre to display his steps. The Chibokwe introduce a few -varieties, the man in the centre beckoning with his hand to any one in -the ring to perform the next solo, and he in turn calling on another. -There is also much more movement of the body than in the Albanian -dance, the chief object of the art being to work the shoulders up and -down, and wriggle the backbone as much like a snake as possible. But -the general idea of the dance is the same, and neither the movement nor -the singing nor the beat of the drum alters much throughout a moonlit -night. - -It is natural that the Chibokwe should have retained much of the -religious feeling and rites which the commercial spirit has destroyed -in the Bihéans. They are far more alive to the spiritual side of -nature, and the fetich shrines are more frequent in all their villages. -The gate of every village, and, indeed, of almost every house, has its -little cluster of sticks, with antelope skulls stuck on the tops, or -old rags fluttering, or a tiny thatched roof covering a patch of strewn -meal. The people have a way of painting the sticks in red and black -stripes, and so the fisher paints the rough model of a canoe that he -hangs by his door to please the fishing spirit. Or sometimes he hangs -a little net, and the hunter, besides his cluster of horned skulls, -almost always hangs up a miniature turtle three or four inches long. I -cannot say for what reason, but all these charms are not to avert evil -so much as to win the favor of a benign spirit who loves to fish or -hunt. So far the rites are above the usual African religion of terror -or devil-worship. But when a woman with child carves a wooden bird to -hang over her door, and gives it meal every evening and sprinkles meal -in front of her door, I think her object is to ward off the spirits of -evil from herself and her unborn baby. - -In a Chibokwe village, one burning afternoon, I found a native woman -being treated for sickness in the usual way. She was stretched on her -back in the dust and dirt of the public place, where she had lain for -four days. The sun beat upon her; the flies were thick upon her body. -Over her bent the village doctor, assiduous in his care. He knew, of -course, that the girl was suffering from witchcraft. Some enemy had -put an evil spirit upon her, for in Africa natural death is unknown, -and but for witchcraft and spirits man would be immortal. But still -the doctor was trying the best human means he knew of as well. He had -plastered the girl’s body over with a compound of leaves, which he had -first chewed into a pulp. He had then painted her forehead with red -ochre, and was now spitting some white preparation of meal into her -nose and mouth. The girl was in high fever--some sort of bilious fever. -You could watch the beating of her heart. The half-closed eyes showed -deep yellow, and the skin was yellow too. Evidently she was suffering -the greatest misery, and would probably die next day. - -It happened that two Americans were with me, for I had just reached -the pioneer mission station at Chinjamba, beyond Mashiko. One of them -was a doctor, with ten years’ experience in a great American city, and -after commending the exertions of the native physician, he asked to be -allowed to assist in the case himself. The native agreed at once, for -the white man’s fame as an exorcist had spread far through the country. -Four or five days later I saw the same girl, no longer stretched on hot -dust, no longer smeared with spittle, leaves, and paint, but smiling -cheerfully at me as she pounded her meal among the other women. - -The incident was typical of those two missionaries and their way of -associating with the natives. It is typical of most young missionaries -now. They no longer go about denouncing “idols” and threatening hell. -They recognize that native worship is also a form of symbolism--a -phase in the course of human ideas upon spiritual things. They do -not condemn, but they say, “We think we know of better things than -these,” and the native is always willing to listen. In this case, for -instance, after the girl had been put into a shady hut and doctored, -the two missionaries sat down on six-inch native stools outside the -club-house and began to sing. They were pioneers; they had only three -hymns in the Chibokwe language, and they themselves understood hardly -half the words. No matter; they took the meaning on trust. By continued -repetition, by feeling no shame in singing a hymn twenty or thirty -times over at one sitting, they had got the words fixed in the native -minds, and when it came to the chorus the whole village shouted -together like black stars. The missionaries understood the doctrine, -the people understood the words; it was not a bad combination, and I -thought those swinging choruses would never stop. The preaching was -perhaps less exhilarating to the audience, but so it has sometimes been -to other congregations, and the preacher’s knowledge of the language he -spoke was only five months old. - -[Illustration: A CHIBOKWE WOMAN AND HER FETICHES] - -At the mission it was the same thing. The pioneers had set up a log -hut in the forest, admitting the air freely through the floor and -sides. They were living in hard poverty, but when they shared with me -their beans and unleavened slabs of millet, it was pleasant to know -that each of the two doors on either side of the hut was crammed with -savage faces, eagerly watching the antics of civilization at meals. -One felt like a lantern-slide, combining instruction with amusement. -The audience consisted chiefly of patients who had built a camp of -forty or fifty huts close outside the cabin, and came every morning to -be cured--cured of broken limbs, bad insides, wounds, but especially -of the terrible sores and ulcers which rot the shins and thighs, -tormenting all this part of Africa. Among the patients were three -kings, who had come far from the east. The greatest of them had brought -a few wives--eight, I think--and some children, including a singularly -fascinating princess with the largest smile I ever saw. Every morning -the king came to my tent, showed me his goitre, asked for tobacco, and -sat with me an hour in silent esteem. As I was not then accustomed to -royalty, I was uncertain how three kings would behave themselves in -hospital life; but in spite of their rank and station, they were quite -good, and even smiled upon the religious services, feeling, no doubt, -as all the rich feel, that such things were beneficial for the lower -orders. - -On certain evenings the missionaries went out into the hospital camp to -sing and pray. They sat beside a log fire, which threw its light upon -the black or copper figures crowding round in a thick half-circle--big, -bony men, women shining with castor-oil, and swarms of children, hardly -visible but for a sudden gleam of eyes and teeth. The three invariable -hymns were duly sung--the chorus of the favorite being repeated -seventeen times without a pause, as I once counted, and even then -the people showed no sign of weariness. The woman next to me on that -occasion sang with conspicuous enthusiasm. She was young and beautiful. -Her mop of hair, its tufts solid with red mud, hung over her brow and -round her neck, dripping odors, dripping oil. Her bare, brown arms -jingled with copper bracelets, and at her throat she wore the section -of round white shell which is counted the most precious ornament of -all--“worth an ox,” they say. Her little cloth was dark blue with a -white pattern, and, squatted upon her heels, she held her baby between -her thighs, stuffing a long, pointed breast into his mouth whenever -he threatened to interrupt the music. For her whole soul was given to -the singing, and with wide-open mouth she poured out to the stars and -darkened forests the amazing words of the chorus: - - “Haleluyah! mwa aku kula, - Jesu vene mwa aku sanga:” - -There were two other lines, which I do not remember. The first line no -one could interpret to me. The second means, “Jesus really loves me.” -The other two said, “His blood will wash my black heart white.” - -To people brought up from childhood in close familiarity with words -like these there may be nothing astonishing about them. They have -unhappily become the commonplaces of Christianity, and excite no more -wonder than the sunrise. But I would give a library of theology to know -what kind of meaning that brown Chibokwe woman found in them as she sat -beside the camp-fire in the forest beyond the Hungry Country, and sang -them seventeen times over to her baby and the stars. - -When at last the singing stopped, one of the missionaries began to -read. He chose the first chapter of St. John, and in that savage tongue -we listened to the familiar sentences, “In the beginning was the Word, -and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Again I looked -round upon that firelit group of naked barbarians. I remembered the -controversies of ages, the thinkers in Greek, the seraphic doctors, -the Byzantine councillors, the saints and sinners of the intellect, -Augustine in the growing Church, Faust in his study--all the great -and subtle spirits who had broken their thought in vain upon that -first chapter of St. John, and again I was filled with wonder. “For -Heaven’s sake, stop!” I felt inclined to cry. “What are these people -to understand by ‘the beginning’? What are we to understand by ‘the -Word’?” But when I looked again I recognized on all faces the mood of -stolid acquiescence with which congregations at home allow the same -words to pass over their heads year after year till they die as good -Christians. So that I supposed it did not matter. - -There seems to be a fascination to missionaries in St. John’s Gospel, -and, of course, that is no wonder. It is generally the first and -sometimes the only part of the New Testament translated, and I have -seen an old chief, who was diligently learning to read among a class -of boys, spelling out with his black fingers such words as, “I am -in the Father, and the Father in me.” No doubt it may be said that -religion has no necessary connection with the understanding, but I -have sometimes thought it might be better to begin with something more -comprehensible, both to savages and ourselves. - -On points of this kind, of course, the missionaries may very well be -right, but in one thing they are wrong. Most of them still keep up the -old habit of teaching the early parts of the Old Testament as literal -facts of history. But if there is anything certain in human knowledge, -the Old Testament stories have no connection with the facts of history -at all. No one believes they have. No scholar, no man of science, -no theologian, no sane man would now think of accepting the Book of -Genesis as a literal account of what actually happened when the world -and mankind began to exist. Yet the missionaries continue to teach -it all to the natives as a series of facts. I have heard one of the -most experienced and influential of all the missionaries discussing -with his highest class of native teachers whether all Persons of the -Trinity were present at Eve’s temptation; and when one of them asked -what would have happened if Adam had refused to eat the apple, the -class was driven to suppose that in that case men would have remained -perfect, while women became as wicked as we see them now. It was a -doctrine very acceptable to the native mind, but to hear those rather -beautiful old stories still taught as the actual history of the world -makes one’s brain whirl. One feels helpless and confused and adrift -from reason, as when another missionary, whose name is justly famous, -told me that there were references to Moscow in Ezekiel, and Daniel had -exactly foretold the course of the Russo-Japanese war. The native has -enough to puzzle his brain as it is. On one side he has the Christian -ideal of peace and good-will, of temperance and poverty and honor and -self-sacrifice, and of a God who is love. And on the other side he -has somehow to understand the Christian’s contumely, the Christian’s -incalculable injustice, his cruelty and deceit, his insatiable greed -for money, his traffic in human beings whom the Christian calls God’s -children. When the native’s mind is hampered and entangled in questions -like these, no one has a right to increase his difficulties by telling -him to believe primitive stories which, as historical facts, are no -truer than the native’s own myths. - -But, happily, matters of intellectual belief have very little to do -with personality, and many good men have held unscientific views on -Noah’s Ark. Contrary to nearly all travellers and traders in Africa, -I have nothing but good to say of the missionaries and their work. I -have already mentioned the order of the Holy Spirit and their great -mission at Caconda. The same order has two other stations in South -Angola and a smaller station among the mountains of Bailundu, about two -hours distant from the fort and the American mission there. Its work -is marked by the same dignity and quiet devotion as marks the work of -all the orders wherever I have come across their outposts and places of -danger through the world. It is constantly objected that the Portuguese -have possessed this country for over four centuries, and have done -nothing for the improvement or conversion of the natives, and I bear in -mind those bishops of Loanda who sat on marble thrones upon the quay -christening the slaves in batches as they were packed off by thousands -to their misery in Cuba and Brazil. Both things are perfectly true. -The Portuguese are not a missionary people. I have not met any but -French, Alsatians, and Germans in the missions of the order out here. -But that need not in the least diminish our admiration of the missions -as they now are. Nor should we be too careful to remember the errors -and cruelties of any people or Church in the past, especially when we -reflect that England, which till quite lately was regarded as the great -foe of slavery all over the world, was also the originator of the slave -export, and that the supreme head of the Anglican Church was one of the -greatest slave-traders ever known. - -As to the scandals and sneers of traders, officials, and -gold-prospectors against the missions, let us pass them by. They are -only the weary old language of “the world.” They are like the sneers -of butchers and publicans at astronomy. They are the tribute of the -enemy, the assurance that all is not in vain. It would be unreasonable -to expect anything else, and dangerous to receive it. The only thing -that makes me hesitate about the work of the order is that many -traders and officials have said to me, “The Catholic missions are, -at all events, practical; they do teach the natives carpentering and -wagon-building and how to dig.” It is perfectly true and admirable, -and, as a matter of fact, the other missions do the same. But a mission -might teach its followers to make wagons enough for a Boer’s paradise -and doors enough for all the huts in Africa and still have failed of -its purpose. - -Besides the order of the Holy Spirit, there are two other notable -orders at work in Angola--the American mission (Congregationalist) -under the “American Board,” and the English mission (Plymouth Brethren) -under divine direction only. Each mission has four stations, and each -is about to start a new one. Some members of the English mission are -Americans, like the pioneers at Chinjamba, and all are on terms of -singular friendship, helping one another in every possible way, almost -like the followers of Christ. Of all sects that I have ever known, -these are the only two that I have heard pray for each other, and that -without condemnation--I mean they pray in a different spirit from -the Anglican prayer for Jews, Turks, infidels, and heretics. There -is another American order, called the Wesleyan Episcopalian, with -stations at Loanda and among the grotesque mountains of Pungo Ndongo. -English-speaking missionaries have now been at work in Loanda for -nearly twenty-five years, and some of the pioneers, such as Mr. Arnot, -Mr. Currie, Mr. Stover, Mr. Fay, and Mr. Sanders, are still directing -the endeavor, with a fine stock of experience to guide them. They -have outlived much abuse; they have almost outlived the common charge -of political aims and the incitement of natives to rebellion, as in -1902. The government now generally leaves them alone. The Portuguese -rob them, especially on the steamers and in the customs, but then -the Portuguese rob everybody. Lately the American mission village at -Kamundongo in Bihé has been set on fire at night three or four times, -and about half of it burned down. But this appears to be the work of -one particular Portuguese trader, who has a spite against the mission -and sends his slaves from time to time to destroy it. An appeal to -the neighboring fort at Belmonte would, of course, be useless. If the -Chefe were to see justice done, the neighboring Portuguese traders -would at once lodge a complaint at Benguela or Loanda, and he would be -removed, as all Chefes are removed who are convicted of justice. But, -as a rule, the missions are now left very much to themselves by the -Portuguese, partly because the traders have found out that some of the -missionaries--four at least--are by far the cleverest doctors in the -country, and nobody devotes his time to persecuting his doctor. - -As to the natives, it is much harder to judge their attitude. Their -name for a missionary is “afoola,” and though, I believe, the word -only means a man of learning, it naturally suggests an innocent -simplicity--something “a bit soft,” as we say. At first that probably -was the general idea, as was seen when M. Coillard, the great French -missionary of Barotzeland, had a big wash in his yard one afternoon, -and next Sunday preached to an enthusiastic congregation all dressed in -scraps of his own linen. And to some extent the feeling still exists. -There are natives who go to a mission village for what they can get, -or simply for a sheltered existence and kindly treatment. There are -probably a good many who experience religious convictions in order to -please, like the followers of any popular preacher at home. But, as -a rule, it is not comfort or gain, it is not persuasive eloquence or -religious conviction that draws the native. It is the two charms of -entire honesty and of inward peace. In a country where the natives -are habitually regarded as fair game for every kind of swindle and -deceit, where bargains with them are not binding, and where penalties -are multiplied over and over again by legal or illegal trickery, we -cannot overestimate the influence of men who do what they say, who -pay what they agree, and who never go back on their word. From end to -end of Africa common honesty is so rare that it gives its possessor a -distinction beyond intellect, and far beyond gold. In Africa any honest -man wins a conspicuous and isolated greatness. In twenty-five years the -natives of Angola have learned that the honesty of the missionaries -is above suspicion. It is a great achievement. It is worth all the -teaching of the alphabet, addition, and Old Testament history, no -matter how successful, and it is hardly necessary to search out any -other cause for the influence which the missionaries possess. - -So, as usual, it is the unconscious action that is the best. Being -naturally and unconsciously honest, the missionaries have won the -natives by honesty--have won, that is to say, the almost imperceptible -percentage of natives who happen to live in the three or four villages -near their stations; and it must be remembered that you might go -through Angola from end to end without guessing that missionaries -exist. But, apart from this unconscious influence, there are plenty -of conscious efforts too. There is the kindergarten, where children -puddle in clay and sing to movement and march to the tune of “John -Brown.” There are schools for every stage, and you may see the chief of -a village doing sums among the boys, and proudly declaring that for -his part 3 + 0 + 1 shall equal five.[5] There are carpenters’ shops -and forges and brick-kilns and building classes and sewing classes for -men. There are Bible classes and prayer-meetings and church services -where six hundred people will be jammed into the room for four hundred, -and men sweat, and children reprove one another’s behavior, and babies -yell and splutter and suck, and when service is over the congregation -rush with their hymn-books to smack the mosquitoes on the walls and see -the blood spurt out. There are singing classes where hymns are taught, -and though the natives have nothing of their own that can be called a -tune, there is something horrible in the ease with which they pick up -the commonplace and inevitable English cadences. I once had a set of -carriers containing two or three mission boys, and after the first day -the whole lot “went Fantee” on “Home, Sweet Home,” just a little wrong. -For more than two years I have journeyed over Africa in peace and war, -but I have never suffered anything to compare to that fortnight of -“Home, Sweet Home,” just a little wrong, morning, noon, and night. - -All these methods of instruction and guidance are pursued in the -permanent mission stations, to say nothing of the daily medical -service of healing and surgery, which spreads the fame of the missions -from village to village. Many out-stations, conducted by the natives -themselves, have been formed, and they should be quickly increased, -though it is naturally tempting to keep the sheep safe within the -mission fold. If the missionaries were suddenly removed in a body, it -is hard to say how long their teaching or influence would survive. My -own opinion is that every trace of it would be gone in fifty or perhaps -in twenty years. The Catholic forms would probably last longest, -because greater use is made of a beautiful symbolism. But in half a -century rum, slavery, and the oppression of the traders would have -wiped all out, and the natives would sink into a far worse state than -their original savagery. Whether the memory of the missions would last -even fifty years would depend entirely upon the strength and number of -the out-stations. - -In practical life, the three great difficulties which the missions have -to face are rum, polygamy, and slavery. From their own stations rum -can be generally excluded, though sometimes a village is persecuted -by a Portuguese trader because it will not buy his spirit. But the -whole country is fast degenerating owing to rum. “You see no fine old -men now,” is a constant saying. Rum kills them off. It is making the -whole people bloated and stupid. Near the coast it is worst, but the -enormous amount carried into the interior or manufactured in Bihé -is telling rapidly, and I see no hope of any change as long as rum -plantations of cane or sweet-potato pay better than any others, and -both traders and government regard the natives only as profitable swine. - -As a matter of argument, polygamy is a more difficult question still. -It is universally practiced in Africa, and no native man or woman has -ever had the smallest scruple of conscience or feeling of wrong about -it. Where the natives can observe white men, they see that polygamy is -in reality practiced among them too. If they came to Europe or America, -they would find it practiced, not by every person, but by every nation -under one guise or another. It seems an open question whether the -native custom, with its freedom from concealment and its guarantees -for woman’s protection and support, is not better than the secret and -hypocritical devices of civilization, under which only one of the -women concerned has any protection or guarantee at all, while a man’s -relation to the others is nearly always stealthy, cruel, and casual. -However, the missionaries, after long consideration, have decided to -insist upon the rule of one man one wife for members of their Churches, -and when I was at one station a famous Christian chief, Kanjumdu of -Chiuka--by far the most advanced and intelligent native I have ever -known--chose one wife out of his eight or ten, and married her with -Christian rites, while the greater part of his twenty-four living -children joined in the hymns. It was fine, but my sympathy was with -one of the rejected wives, who would not come to the wedding-feast and -refused to take a grain of meal or a foot of cloth from his hand ever -again. - -As to slavery, I have already spoken about the missionaries’ attitude. -They dare not say anything openly against it, because if they published -the truth they would probably be poisoned and certainly be driven out -of the country, leaving their followers exposed to a terrible and -exterminating persecution. So they help in what few special cases -they can, and leave the rest to time and others. It is difficult to -criticize men of such experience, devotion, and singleness of aim. -One must take their judgment. But at the same time one cannot help -remembering that a raging fire is often easier to deal with than a -smouldering refuse-heap, and that in spite of all the blood and sorrow, -the wildest revolution on behalf of justice has never really failed. - -But, as I said, it is hard for me to criticize the missionaries -out here. My opinion of them may be misguided by the extraordinary -kindliness which only traders and officials can safely resist, and I -suppose one ought to envy the reasonableness of such people when, after -enjoying the full hospitality of the mission stations, they spend the -rest of their time in sneering at the missionaries. Nothing can surpass -mission hospitality. The stranger’s condition, poverty, or raggedness -does not matter in the least, nor does the mission’s own scarcity or -want. Whatever there is belongs to the strangers, even if nothing is -left but a dish of black beans and a few tea-leaves, used already. In -a long and wandering life I have nowhere found hospitality so complete -and ungrudging and unconscious. Only those who have lived for months -among the dirt and cursing of ox-wagons, or have tramped with savages -far through deserts wet and dry, plunged in slime or burned with -thirst, worn with fever and poisoned with starvation, could appreciate -what it means to come at last into a mission station and see the trim -thatched cottages, like an old English village, and to hear the quiet -and pleasant voices, and feel again the sense of inward peace, which, -I suppose, is the reward of holy living. How often when I have been -getting into bed the night after I have thus arrived, I have thought to -myself, “Here I am, free from hunger and thirst, in a silent room, with -a bed and real sheets, while people at home probably picture me dying -in the depths of a dismal forest where pygmies sharpen their poisoned -arrows and make their saucepans ready, or a lion stands rampant on one -side of me, and, on the other side, a unicorn.” - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[4] Since this was written, the arbitration has been published (July, -1905), but by the new frontier I think none of the Chibokwe will be -brought under British influence. - -[5] It must be a little difficult to teach arithmetic to a race whose -word for “seven” is “six and two” (_epandu-vali_), or “six over again.” -Or to teach dates where the word for “to-morrow” (_hena_) is the same -as the word for “yesterday.” - - - - -VIII - -THE SLAVE ROUTE TO THE COAST - - -After coming out from the interior by passing again through the Hungry -Country from the Zambesi basin to the Cuanza, I determined to continue -following the old slave route down to Benguela and the sea. I have -already spoken of this route as the main road of Central Africa, and -the two hundred and seventy or three hundred miles of it which connect -Bihé with the coast are crowded with trade, especially at the beginning -of the dry season, which was the time of my journey. It is only a -carrier’s track, though the Portuguese, as their habit is, have forced -the natives to construct a few miles of useless road here and there, -at intervals of several days’ march. But along that winding track, -sometimes so steep and difficult that it is like a goat-path in the -Alps, thousands of carriers pass every year, bearing down loads of -rubber and beeswax, and bringing back cotton, salt, tinned foods, and, -above all, rum. It is against the decree of the Brussels Conference of -1890 to introduce rum into Bihé at all, but who cares about decrees -when rum pays and no one takes the trouble to shoot? And down this -winding track the export slaves have been driven century after century. -I suppose the ancestors of half the negroes in the United States -and of nearly all in Cuba and Brazil came down it. And thousands of -export slaves still come down it every year. Laws and conferences have -prohibited the slave-trade for generations past, but who cares about -laws and conferences as long as slavery pays and no one takes the -trouble to shoot? - -How the traffic is worked may be seen from some things which I observed -upon my way. Being obliged to wait at various places to arrange -carriers and recover from fevers, I spent about five weeks on the road -from the crossing of the Cuanza to the sea, though it can be done in -three weeks, or even in seventeen days. For the first few days I was -back again in the northern part of the Bihé district, and I early -passed the house of a Portuguese trader of whose reputation I had -heard before. He is still claiming enormous damages for injury to his -property in the war of 1902. The villagers have appealed to the fort at -Belmonte against the amount, but are ordered to pay whatever he asks. -To supply the necessary rubber and oxen they have now pawned their -children into slavery without hope of redemption. Two days before I -passed the house a villager, having pawned the last of his children -and possessing nothing else, had shot himself in the bush close by. -Things like that make no difference to the trader. It is the money he -wants. The damage done to his property three years ago must be paid -for twentyfold. Still, he is not simply the “economic man” of the -old text-books. He has a decadent love of art, distinct from love of -money, and just before I passed his house he had summoned the chiefs -of the village as though for a conference, had locked them up in his -compound, and every night he was making the old men dance for his -pleasure. To the native mind such a thing is as shocking as it would -be to Englishmen if Mr. Beit or Mr. Eckstein kept the Lord Chancellor -and the Archbishop of Canterbury to gambol naked before him on Sunday -afternoons. - -[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO THE COAST] - -So the matter stands, and the villagers must go on selling more and -more of their wives and children that the white man’s greed may be -satisfied. - -A day or two farther on I turned aside from the main track to visit one -of the agents whom the government has specially appointed to conduct -the purchase of slaves for the islands of San Thomé and Principe. There -are two agents officially recognized in the Bihé district. On my way I -met an old native notorious for a prosperous career of slave-trading. -At the moment he was leading along a finely built man by a halter round -his neck, but at sight of me he dropped the end of rope. A man who -was with me charged him at once with having just sold two of his own -slaves--a man and a woman--for San Thomé. He protested with righteous -indignation. He would never think of doing such a thing! Sell for San -Thomé! He would even give a long piece of cloth to rescue a native from -such a fate! Yet, beyond question, he had sold the man and woman to the -Agent that morning. They were at the Agent’s house when I arrived, and -I was told he had only failed to sell the other slave because his price -was too high. - -The Agent himself was polite and hospitable. Business was pretty brisk. -I knew he had sent off eight slaves to the coast only three days -before, with orders that they should carry their own shackles and be -carefully pinned together at night. But we talked only of the rumored -division of the Congo, for on the other subject he was naturally a -little shy, and I found out long afterwards that he knew the main -object of my journey.[6] Next day, however, he was alone with the -friend who had accompanied me, and he then attempted to defend his -position as Agent by saying the object of the government was to buy up -slaves through their special agents and “redeem” them from slavery by -converting them into “contract laborers” for San Thomé. The argument -was ingenious. The picture of a pitiful government willing to purchase -the freedom of all slaves without thought of profit, and only driven -to contract them for San Thomé because otherwise the expense would be -unbearable--it is almost pathetic. But the Agent knew, as every one out -here knows, that the people whom the government buys and “redeems” have -been torn from their homes and families on purpose to be “redeemed”; -that but for the purchases by the government agents for San Thomé the -whole slave-traffic would fall to pieces; and that the actual condition -of these “contracted laborers” upon the islands does not differ from -slavery in any point of importance. - -Leaving on the right the volcanic district of North Bihé, with its -boiling springs and great deposits of magnesia, the path to the coast -continues to run westward and a point or two south through country -typical of Africa’s central plateau. There are the usual wind-swept -spaces of bog and yellow grass, the usual rolling lines of scrubby -forest, and the shallow valleys with narrow channels of water running -through morass. The path skirts the northern edge of the high, wet -plain of Bouru-Bouru, and on the same day, after passing this, I saw -far away in the west a little blue point of mountain, hanging like an -island upon the horizon. A few hours afterwards bare rock began to -appear through the bog-earth and sand of the forest, and next morning -new mountains came into sight from hour to hour as I advanced, till -there was quite a cluster of little blue islands above the dark edges -of the trees. - -The day after, when I had been walking for about two hours through -the monotonous woods, the upland suddenly broke. It was quick and -unexpected as the snapping of a bowstring, and far below me was -revealed a great expanse of country--broad valleys leading far away to -the west and north, isolated groups of many-colored mountains, bare and -shapely hills of granite and sandstone, and one big, jagged tooth or -pike of purple rock, rising sheer from a white plain thinly sprinkled -with trees and marked with watercourses. The whole scene, bare and -glowing under the cloudless sky of an African winter, was like those -delicate landscapes in nature’s most friendly wilderness which the -Umbrians used to paint as backgrounds to the Baptist or St. Jerome or -a Mother and Child. To one who has spent many months among the black -forest, the marshes and sand-hills of Bihé and the Hungry Country, it -gleams with a radiance of jewels, and is full of the inward stir and -longing that the sudden vision of mountains always brings.[7] - -At the top of the hill was a large sweet-potato plantation for rum. A -gang of twenty-three slaves--chiefly women--was clearing a new patch -from the bush for an extension of the fields. Over them, as usual, -stood a Portuguese ganger, who encouraged their efforts with blows from -a long black chicote, or hippo whip, which he rapidly tried to conceal -down his trousers leg at sight of me. - -At the foot of the hill, where a copious stream of water ran, a similar -rum-factory had just been constructed. The hideous main building--gaunt -as a Yorkshire mill--the whitewashed rows of slave-huts, the newly -broken fields, the barrels just beginning to send out a loathsome -stench of new spirit--all were as fresh and vile as civilization could -make them. As we passed, the slaves were just enjoying a holiday for -the burial of one of their number who had died that morning. They were -gathered in a large crowd round the grave on the edge of the bush. -Presently six of them brought out the body, wrapped in an old blanket, -rolled it sideways into the shallow trench, and covered it up with -earth and stones. As we climbed the next hill, my carriers, who were -much interested, kept saying to one another: “Slaves! Poor slaves!” -Then we heard a bell ring. The people began to crawl back to their -work. The slaves’ holiday was over. - -We had now passed from Bihé into the district of Bailundu, and the -mountains stood around us as we descended, their summits rising little -higher than the level of the Bihéan plateau--say five to six thousand -feet above the sea. A detached hill in front of us was conspicuous -for its fortified look. From the distance it was like one of the -castellated rocks of southern France. It was the old Umbala, or king’s -fortress, of Bailundu, and here the native kings used to live in savage -magnificence before the curse of the white men fell. On the summit you -still may see the king’s throne of three great rocks, the heading-stone -where his enemies suffered, the stone of refuge to which a runaway -might cling and gain mercy by declaring himself the king’s slave, the -royal tombs with patterned walls hidden in a depth of trees, and the -great flat rock where the women used to dance in welcome to their -warriors returning from victory. One day I scrambled up and saw it -all in company with a man who remembered the place in its high estate -and had often sat beside the king in judgment. But all the glory is -departed now. The palace was destroyed and burned in 1896. The rock of -refuge and the royal throne are grown over with tall grasses. Leopards -and snakes possess them merely, and it is difficult even to fight one’s -way up the royal ascent through the tangle of the creepers and bush.[8] - -At the foot of the hill, within a square of ditch and rampart, stands -the Portuguese fort, the scene of the so-called “Bailundu war” of 1902. -It was here that the native rising began, owing to a characteristic -piece of Portuguese treachery, the Commandant having seized a party -of native chiefs who were visiting him, at his own invitation, under -promise of peace and safe-conduct. The whole affair was paltry and -wretched. The natives displayed their usual inability to combine; -the Portuguese displayed their usual cowardice. But, as I have shown -before, the effect of the outbreak was undoubtedly to reduce the -horrors of the slave-trade for a time. The overwhelming terror of the -slave-traders and other Portuguese, who crept into hiding to shelter -their precious lives, showed them they had gone too far. The atrocious -history of Portuguese cruelty and official greed which reached Lisbon -at last did certainly have some effect upon the national conscience. As -I have mentioned in earlier letters, Captain Amorim of the artillery -was sent out to mitigate the abominations of the trade, and for a -time, at all events, he succeeded. Owing to terror, the export of -slaves to San Thomé ceased altogether for about six months after -the rising. It has gone back to its old proportions now--the numbers -averaging about four thousand head a year (not including babies), and -gradually rising.[9] But since then the traders have not dared to -practise the same open cruelties as before, and the new regulations -for slave-traffic--known as the Decree of January 29, 1903--do, at all -events, aim at tempering the worst abuses, though their most important -provisions are invariably evaded. - -Only a mile or two from the fort, and quite visible from the rocks of -the old Umbala, stands the American mission village of Bailundu--I -believe the oldest mission in Angola except the early Jesuits’. It was -founded in 1881, and for more than twenty years has been carried on by -Mr. Stover and Mr. Fay, who are still conducting it. The Portuguese -instigated the natives to drive them out once, and have wildly accused -them of stirring up war, protecting the natives, and other crimes. But -the mission has prospered in spite of all, and its village is now, I -think, the prettiest in Angola. How long it may remain in its present -beautiful situation one cannot say. Twenty years ago it was surrounded -only by natives, but now the Portuguese have crept up to it with their -rum and plantations and slavery, and where the Portuguese come neither -natives nor missions can hope to stay long. It may be that in a year or -two the village will be deserted, as the American mission village of -Saccanjimba, a few days farther east, has lately been deserted, and the -houses will be occupied by Portuguese convicts with a license to trade, -while the church becomes a rum-store. In that case the missionaries -will be wise to choose a place outside the fifty-kilometre radius from -a fort, beyond which limit no Portuguese trader may settle. So true it -is that in modern Africa an honest man has only the whites to fear. But -unhappily new forts are now being constructed at two or three points -along this very road. - -Soon after leaving Bailundu the track divides, and one branch of it -runs northwest, past the foot of that toothed mountain, or pike,[10] -and so at length reaches the coast at Novo Redondo--a small place -with a few sugar-cane plantations for rum and a government agency -for slaves. I am told that on this road the slaves are worse treated -and more frequently shackled than upon the path I followed, and -certainly Novo Redondo is more secret and freer from the interference -of foreigners than Benguela. But I think there cannot really be much -difference. The majority of slaves are still brought down the old -Benguela route, and scattered along it at intervals I have found quite -new shackles, still used for pinning the slaves together, chiefly at -night, though it is true the shackles near the coast are not nearly so -numerous as in the interior. - -I was myself determined to follow the old track and come down to the -sea by that white path where I had seen the carriers ascending and -descending the mountains above Katumbella many months before. Within -two days from Bailundu I entered a notorious lion country. Lions are -increasing rapidly all along the belt of mountains here, and they do -not hesitate to eat mankind, making no prejudiced distinction between -white and black. Their general method is to spring into a rest-hut -at night and drag off a carrier, or sometimes two, while the camp is -asleep. All the rest-camps in this district are strongly stockaded with -logs, twelve or fourteen feet high, but carriers are frequently killed -in spite of all the stockade. There is one old lion who has made quite -a reputation as a man-hunter, and if he had an ancestral hall he could -decorate it with the “trophies” of about fifty human heads. He has -chosen for his hunting-lodge some cave near the next fort westward from -Bailundu, and there at eve he may sometimes be seen at play upon the -green. Two officers are stationed in the fort, but they do not care -to interfere with the creature’s habits and pursuits. They do not even -train their little toy gun on him. Perhaps they are humanitarians. So -he devours mankind at leisure. - -[Illustration: CARRIERS’ REST-HUTS] - -When we camped near that fort, my boys insisted I should sleep in -a hut inside the stockade instead of half a mile away from them as -usual. The huts are made of dry branches covered with dry leaves and -grass. Inside that stockade I counted over forty huts, and each hut was -crammed with carriers--men, women, and children--for the dry-season -trade was beginning. There must have been five or six hundred natives -in that camp at night. The stockade rose fourteen feet or more and was -impenetrable. The one gate was sealed and barred with enormous logs -to keep out the lion. I was myself given a hut in the very centre of -the camp as an honor. And in every single hut around me a brilliant -fire was lighted for cooking and to keep the carriers warm all night. -One spark gone wrong would have burned up the whole five hundred of us -without a chance of escape. So when we came to the stockaded camp of -the next night I pitched my tent far outside it as usual, and listened -to the deep sighing and purring of the lions with great indifference, -while the boys marvelled at a rashness which was nothing to their own. - -As one goes westward farther into the mountains, the path drops two -or three times by sudden, steep descents, like flights of steps down -terraces, and at each descent the air becomes closer and the plants -and beasts more tropical, till one reaches the deep valleys of the -palm, the metallic butterfly, and thousands of yellow monkeys. Beside -the route great masses of granite rise, weathered into smooth and -unclimbable surface, like the Matopo hills. The carriers from the -high interior suffer a good deal at each descent. “We have lost our -proper breathing,” they say, and they pine till they return to the -clearer air. It is here that many of the slaves try to escape. If they -got away, there would not be much chance for them among the shy and -apelike natives of the mountain belt, who remain entirely savage and -are reputed to be cannibal still. But the slaves try to escape, and are -generally brought back to a fate worse than being killed and eaten. On -May 17th, five days above Katumbella, I met one of them who had been -caught. He was a big Luvale man, naked, his skin torn and bleeding from -his wild rush through thorns and rocks. In front and behind him marched -one of his owner’s slaves with drawn knives or matchets, two feet long, -ready to cut him down if he tried to run again. I asked my boys what -would happen to him, and they said he would be flogged to death before -the others. I cannot say. I should have thought he was too valuable to -kill. He must have been worth over £20 as he stood, and £30 when landed -at San Thomé. But, of course, the trader may have thought it would -pay better to flog him to death as an example. True, it is not always -safe to kill a slave. Last April a man in Benguela flogged a slave to -death with a hippo whip, and, no doubt to his great astonishment, he -found himself arrested and banished for a time to Mozambique--“the -other coast,” as it is called--a far from salubrious home. But five -days’ inland along the caravan route the murderer of a slave would be -absolutely secure, if he did not mind the loss of the money. - -Two days later I met another of those vast caravans of natives, one -of which I had seen just the other side of the Cuanza. This caravan -numbered nearly seven hundred people, and, under the protection of an -enormous Portuguese banner, they were marching up into the interior -with bales and stores, wives and children, intending to be absent -at least two years for trade. These large bodies of men are a great -source of supply to the government slave-agents; for when they find two -tribes at war, they hire themselves out to fight for one on condition -of selling the captives from the other, and so they secure an immense -profit for themselves, while pleasing their allies and bringing an -abundance of slaves for the Portuguese government to “redeem” by -sending them to labor at San Thomé till their lives end. - -The next day’s march brought us to a straight piece of valley, where -such a number of rest-huts have been gradually built that the place -looks like a large native village. All the little paths from the -interior meet here, because it stands at the mouth of a long and very -deep valley, sometimes called the cañon, by which alone the next belt -of dry and mountainous country can be crossed. The water is dirty and -full of sulphur, but it has to be carried in gourds for the next day’s -march, because for twenty-five miles there is no water at all. - -Natives here come down from the nearest villages and sell -sweet-potatoes and maize to the carriers in exchange for salt and chips -of tobacco or sips of rum, so that at this season, when the carriers -every night number a thousand or more, there is something like a fair. -Mixed up with the carriers are the small gangs of slaves, who are -collected here in larger parties before being sent on to the coast. - -With the help of one of my boys I had some conversation that evening -with a woman who was kept waiting for other gangs, just as I was kept -waiting because fever made me too weak to move. She was a beautiful -woman of about twenty or little more, with a deep-brown skin and a face -of much intelligence, full of sorrow. She had come from a very long way -off, she said--far beyond the Hungry Country. She thought four moons -had gone since they started. She had a husband and three children at -home, but was seized by the men of another tribe and sold to a white -man for twenty cartridges. She did not know what kind of cartridges -they were--they were “things for a gun.” Her last baby was very young, -very young. She was still suckling him when they took her away. She -did not know where she was going. She supposed it was to Okalunga--a -name which the natives use equally for hell or the abyss of death, -the abyss of the sea and for San Thomé. She was perfectly right. She -was one of the slaves who had been purchased, probably on the Congo -frontier, on purpose for the Portuguese government’s agent to “redeem” -and send to the plantations. It is a lucrative business to supply -such philanthropists with slaves. And it is equally lucrative for the -philanthropists to redeem them. - -The long, dry cañon, where the carriers have to climb like goats -from rock to rock along the steep mountain-side, with fifty or sixty -pounds on their heads, brought us at last to a brimming reach of the -Katumbella River. It is dangerous both from hippos and crocodiles; -though the largest crocodiles I have ever seen were lower down the -river, on the sand-banks close to its mouth, where they devour women -and cattle, and lie basking all their length of twenty to thirty feet, -just like the dragons of old. From the river the path mounts again for -the final day’s march through an utterly desert and waterless region of -mountain ridges and stones and sand, sprinkled with cactus and aloes -and a few gray thorns. But, like all this mountain region, the desert -gives ample shelter to eland, koodoo, and other deer. Buffaloes live -there, too, and in very dry seasons they come down at night to drink at -the river pools close to the sea. - -The sea itself is hidden from the path by successive ridges of mountain -till the very last edge is reached. On the morning of my last day’s -trek a heavy, wet mist lay over all the valleys, and it was only -when we climbed that we could see the mountain-tops, rising clear -above it in the sunshine. But before mid-day the mist had gone, and, -looking back from a high pass, I had my last view over the road we had -travelled, and far away towards the interior of the strange continent -I was leaving. Then we went on westward, and climbed the steep and -rocky track over the final range, till at last a great space of varied -prospect lay stretched out below us--the little houses of Katumbella -at our feet, the fertile plain beside its river green with trees and -plantations; on our right the white ring of Lobito Bay, Angola’s -future port; on our left a line of yellow beach like a road leading -to the little white church and the houses of Benguela, fifteen miles -away; and beyond them again to the desert promontory, with grotesque -rocks. And there, far away in front, like a vast gulf of dim and misty -blue, merging in the sky without a trace of horizon, stretched the sea -itself; and to an Englishman the sea is always the way home. - -So, as I had hoped, I came down at last from the mountains into -Katumbella by that white path which has been consecrated by so much -misery. And as I walked through the dimly lighted streets and beside -the great court-yards of the town that night, I heard again the blows -of the palmatoria and chicote and the cries of men and women who were -being “tamed.” - -“I do not trouble to beat my slaves much--I mean my contracted -laborers,” said the trader who was with me. “If they try to run away or -anything, I just give them one good flogging, and then sell them to the -Agent for San Thomé. One can always get £16 per head from him.” - -A few days afterwards, on the Benguela road, I passed a procession of -forty-three men and women, marching in file like carriers, but with no -loads on their heads. Four natives in white coats and armed with guns -accompanied them, ready to shoot down any runaway. The forty-three were -a certain company’s detachment of “voluntary laborers” on their way to -the head “Emigration Agent” at Benguela and to the ship for San Thomé. -Third among them marched that woman who had been taken from her husband -and three children and sold for twenty cartridges. - -Thus it is that the islands of San Thomé and Principe have been -rendered about the most profitable bits of the earth’s surface, and -England and America can get their chocolate and cocoa cheap. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] I am not quite sure how this was discovered--whether an indiscreet -friend “gave me away,” or whether an indiscreet letter was opened in -the post, or the traders were simply guided by conjecture and a guilty -conscience. At all events, one of the principal slave-dealers in Bihé -discovered it, and took the pains to publish reports against me, that -reached as far as Mossamedes. The English and American missions were -actually warned to have nothing to do with me because I was a Jesuit -in disguise, and had come to destroy their work! Further on I may have -to refer to the plots to assassinate me on the coast during the voyage -home, but I mention these little personal matters only to show that the -slave-traders had been put on their guard and would naturally try to -conceal as much as they could of their traffic’s horror, and that is -the chief reason why I met no gangs of slaves in chains. - -[7] See Commander Cameron’s description of the same view in 1876: -_Across Africa_, p. 459. - -[8] Cameron visited King Congo there in 1876: _Across Africa_, p. 460. - -[9] The official numbers of slaves exported to San Thomé for the first -four months of 1905 are: January, 369; February, 349; March, 366; -April, 302--a rate which would give a total of 4158 for the year. In -June I travelled by a ship which took 273 slaves to San Thomé and -Principe, and there are two slave-ships a month. - -[10] Cameron called it “The Devil’s Finger”: _Across Africa_, p. 464. - - - - -IX - -THE EXPORTATION OF SLAVES - - -When I was up in the interior, I had always intended to wait a while -on the coast, if ever I should reach it again, in order to watch -the process of the conversion of slaves into “contracted laborers” -according to law. So it was fortunate that, owing to the delays of -fevers and carriers, I succeeded in just missing a steamer bound for -San Thomé and home. Fortunate, because the temptation to go straight on -board would have been very strong, since I was worn with sickness, and -within two days of reaching Katumbella I learned that special dangers -surrounded me, owing to the discovery of my purpose by the Portuguese -traders. As a matter of fact, I might have caught the ship by pushing -my carriers on without a pause, but the promptings of conscience, -supported by a prospect of the best crocodile-shooting that man can -enjoy, induced me to run the risk of assassination and stay. - -So I stayed on the coast for nearly three weeks, seeing what I could, -hunting crocodiles, and devising schemes for getting my papers home -even if I should never reach home myself. One of the first things -I saw was a procession of slaves who had just been “redeemed” into -“contracted laborers,” and were being marched off in the early morning -sunlight from Katumbella to Lobito Bay, there to be embarked for San -Thomé on the ship which I had missed.[11] It so happened that this -ship put in at Lobito Bay, which lies only some eight miles north from -Katumbella down a waterless spit of sand, as I have before described, -and there can be no doubt that this practice will become more and more -common as the railway from the new port progresses. Katumbella, united -with the bay, will become the main depot for the exportation of slaves -and other merchandise, while Benguela, having no natural harbor, will -gradually fall to ruin. At present, I suppose, the government Agent for -slaves at Benguela, together with the Curador, whose act converts them -into contract laborers, comes over for the occasion whenever the slaves -are to be shipped from Lobito Bay, just as in England a bishop travels -from place to place for Confirmations as required. - -Bemused with a parting dole of rum, bedecked in brilliantly striped -jerseys, grotesque caps, and flashy loin-cloths to give them a moment’s -pleasure, the unhappy throng were escorted to their doom, the tin -tickets with their numbers and the tin cylinders with their form of -contract glittering round their necks or at their sides. Men and -women were about equal in number, and some of the women carried babes -lashed to their backs; but there were no older children. The causes -which had brought these men and women to their fate were probably as -different as the lands from which they came. Some had broken native -customs or Portuguese laws, some had been charged with witchcraft by -the medicine-man because a relative died, some could not pay a fine, -some were wiping out an ancestral debt, some had been sold by uncles in -poverty, some were the indemnity for village wars; some had been raided -on the frontier, others had been exchanged for a gun; some had been -trapped by Portuguese, others by Bihéan thieves; some were but changing -masters, because they were “only good for San Thomé,” just as we in -London send an old cab-horse to Antwerp. I cannot give their history. I -only know that about two hundred of them, muddled with rum and bedecked -like clowns, passed along that May morning to a land of doom from -which there was no return. - -It was June 1st when, as I described in my last letter, I met that -other procession of slaves on their way from Katumbella to Benguela, -in readiness for embarkation in the next ship, which did not happen to -stop at Lobito Bay. It was a smaller gang--only forty-three men and -women--for it was the result of only one Agent’s activity, though, to -be sure, he was the leading and most successful Agent in Angola. They -marched under escort, but without loads and without chains, though the -old custom of chaining them together along that piece of road is still -commonly practised--I suppose because the fifteen miles of country -through which the road leads, when once the small slave-plantations -round Katumbella have been passed, is a thorny desert where a runaway -might easily hide, hoping to escape by sea or find cover in the towns. -I have myself seen the black soldiers or police searching the bush -there for fugitives, and once I found a Portuguese dying of fever -among the thorns, to which he had fled from what is roughly called -justice.[12] - -By the time I saw that second procession I was myself living in -Benguela, and was able to follow the slave’s progress almost point -by point, in spite of the uncomfortable suspicion with which I was -naturally regarded. Writing of the town before, I mentioned the large -court-yards with which nearly every house is surrounded--memorials of -the old days when this was the central depot for the slave-trade with -Brazil. In most cases these court-yards are now used as resting-places -for the free carriers who have brought products from the interior and -are waiting till the loads of cloth and rum are ready for the return -journey. But the trading-houses that go in for business in “serviçaes” -still put the court-yards to their old purpose, and confine the slaves -there till it is time to get them on board. - -A day or two before the steamer is due to depart a kind of ripple -seems to pass over the stagnant town. Officials stir, clerks begin -to crawl about with pens, the long, low building called the Tribunal -opens a door or two, a window or two, and looks quite busy. Then, -early one morning, the Curador arrives and takes his seat in the long, -low room as representing the beneficent government of Portugal. Into -his presence the slaves are herded in gangs by the official Agent. -They are ranged up, and in accordance with the Decree of January 29, -1903, they are asked whether they go willingly as laborers to San -Thomé. No attention of any kind is paid to their answer. In most -cases no answer is given. Not the slightest notice would be taken of -a refusal. The legal contract for five years’ labor on the island -of San Thomé or Principe is then drawn out, and, also in accordance -with the Decree, each slave receives a tin disk with his number, the -initials of the Agent who secured him, and in some cases, though not -usually at Benguela, the name of the island to which he is destined. -He also receives in a tin cylinder a copy of his register, containing -the year of contract, his number and name, his birthplace, his chief’s -name, the Agent’s name, and “observations,” of which last I have never -seen any. Exactly the same ritual is observed for the women as for the -men. The disks are hung round their necks, the cylinders are slung at -their sides, and the natives, believing them to be some kind of fetich -or “white man’s Ju-ju,” are rather pleased. All are then ranged up and -marched out again, either to the compounds, where they are shut in, or -straight to the pier where the lighters, which are to take them to the -ship, lie tossing upon the waves. - -The climax of the farce has now been reached. The deed of pitiless -hypocrisy has been consummated. The requirements of legalized slavery -have been satisfied. The government has “redeemed” the slaves which -its own Agents have so diligently and so profitably collected. They -went into the Tribunal as slaves, they have come out as “contracted -laborers.” No one in heaven or on earth can see the smallest -difference, but by the change of name Portugal stifles the enfeebled -protests of nations like the English, and by the excuse of law she -smooths her conscience and whitens over one of the blackest crimes -which even Africa can show. - -Before I follow the slaves on board, I must raise one uncertain -point about the Agents. I am not quite sure on what principle they -are paid. According to the Decree of 1903, they are appointed by the -local committee in San Thomé, consisting of four officials and three -planters, chosen by the central government Committee of Emigration in -Lisbon. The local committee has to fix the payment due to each Agent, -and of course the payment is ultimately made by the planters, who -requisition the local committee for as many slaves as they require, -and pay in proportion to the number they receive. Now a planter in San -Thomé gives from £26 to £30 for a slave delivered on his plantation in -good condition. The Agent at Benguela will give £16 for any healthy -man or woman brought to him, but he rarely goes up to £20. From this -considerable profit balance of £10 to £14 per head there are, it is -true, certain deductions to be made. By the Decree, each Agent has to -pay the government £100 deposit before he sets up in the slave-dealing -business, and most probably he recoups himself out of the profits. For -his license he has to pay the government two shillings a slave (with -a minimum payment of £10 a year). Also to the government he pays £1 -per slave in stamp duty, and six shillings on the completion of each -contract. He has further to pay a tax of six shillings per slave to the -port of landing, and from the balance of profit we must also deduct -the slave’s fare on the steamer from Benguela to San Thomé. This, I -believe, is £2--a sum which goes to enrich the happy shareholders in -the “Empreza Nacional,” who last year (1904) received twenty-two per -cent. on their money as profit from the slave-ships. Then the captain -of the steamer gets four shillings and the doctor two shillings for -every slave landed alive, and, on an average, only four slaves per -hundred die on the voyage, which takes about eight days. There are -probably other deductions to be made. The Curador will get something -for his important functions. There are stories that the commandants of -certain forts still demand blackmail from the processions of slaves as -they go by. I was definitely told that the commandant of a fort very -near to Benguela always receives ten shillings a head, but I cannot say -if that is true. - -In any case, at the very lowest, there is £4 to be deducted for fare, -taxes, etc., from the apparent balance of £10 to £14 per slave. But -even then the profit on each man or woman sold is considerable, and the -point that I am uncertain about is whether the Agent at Benguela and -his deputies in Novo Redondo and Bihé pocket all the profit they can -possibly make, or are paid a fixed proportion of the average profits -by the local committee at San Thomé. The latter would be in accordance -with the Decree; the other way more in accordance with Portuguese -methods. - -Unhappily I was not able to witness the embarkation of the slaves -myself, as I had been poisoned the night before and was suffering all -day from violent pain and frequent collapse, accompanied by extreme -cold in the limbs.[13] So that when, late in the evening, I crawled on -board at last, I found the slaves already in their place on the ship. -We were taking only one hundred and fifty of them from Benguela, but we -gathered up other batches as we went along, so that finally we reached -a lucrative cargo of two hundred and seventy-two (not counting babies), -and as only two of them died in the week, we landed two hundred and -seventy safely on the islands. This was perhaps rather a larger number -than usual, for the steamers, which play the part of mail-boats and -slave-ships both, go twice a month, and the number of slaves exported -by them yearly has lately averaged a little under four thousand, though -the numbers are increasing, as I showed in my last letter. - -The slaves are, of course, kept in the fore part of the ship. All day -long they lie about the lower deck, among the horses, mules, cattle, -sheep, monkeys, and other live-stock; or they climb up to the fo’c’s’le -deck in hopes of getting a little breeze, and it is there that the -mothers chiefly lie beside their tiny babies. There is nothing to do. -Hardly any one speaks, and over the faces of nearly all broods the look -of dumb bewilderment that one sees in cattle crowded into trucks for -the slaughter-market. Twice a day rations of mealy pap or brown beans -are issued in big pots. Each pot is supplied with ten wooden spoons and -holds the food for ten slaves, who have to get as much of it as each -can manage. The first-class passengers, leaning against the rail of the -upper deck, look down upon the scene with interest and amusement. To -them those slaves represent the secret of Portugal’s greatness--such -greatness as Portugal has. - -[Illustration: “ALL DAY LONG THEY LIE ABOUT THE LOWER DECK”] - -At sunset they are herded into a hold, the majority going down the -hatchway stairs on their hands and knees. There they spread their -sleeping-mats, and the hatch is shut down upon them till the following -morning. By the virtuous Decree of 1903, which regulates the transport, -“the emigrants [i.e., the slaves] shall be separated according to sex -into completely isolated compartments, and may not sleep on deck, nor -resume conjugal relations before leaving the ship.” Certainly the -slaves do not sleep on deck, but as to the other clauses I have seen -no attempt to carry out the regulations, except such measures as the -slaves take themselves by dividing the hold between men and women. -It may seem strange, but all my observation has shown me that, in -spite of nakedness and the absence of shame in most natural affairs -of existence, the natives are far more particular about the really -important matters of sex than civilized people are; just as most -animals are far more particular, and for the same reasons. I mean that -for them the difference of sex is mainly a matter of livelihood and -child-getting, not of casual debauchery. - -Even a coast trader said to me one evening, as we were looking down -into the hold where the slaves were arranging their mats, “What a -different thing if they were white people!” - -The day after leaving Benguela we stopped off Novo Redondo to take on -more cargo. The slaves came off in two batches--fifty in the morning -and thirty more towards sunset. There was a bit of a sea on that day, -and the tossing of the lighter had made most of the slaves very sick. -Things became worse when the lighter lay rising and falling with the -waves at the foot of the gangway, and the slaves had to be dragged up -to the platform one by one like sacks, and set to climb the ladder as -best they could. I remember especially one poor woman who held in her -arms a baby only two or three days old. Quickly as native women recover -from childbirth, she had hardly recovered, and was very sea-sick -besides. In trying to reach the platform, she kept on missing the rise -of the wave, and was flung violently back again into the lighter. At -last the men managed to haul her up and set her on the foot of the -ladder, striking her sharply to make her mount. Tightening the cloth -that held the baby to her back, and gathering up her dripping blanket -over one arm, she began the ascent on all-fours. Almost at once her -knees caught in the blanket and she fell flat against the sloping -stairs. In that position she wriggled up them like a snake, clutching -at each stair with her arms above her head. At last she reached the -top, bruised and bleeding, soaked with water, her blanket lost, most -of her gaudy clothing torn off or hanging in strips. On her back the -little baby, still crumpled and almost pink from the womb, squeaked -feebly like a blind kitten. But swinging it round to her breast, the -woman walked modestly and without complaint to her place in the row -with the others. - -I have heard many terrible sounds, but never anything so hellish as the -outbursts of laughter with which the ladies and gentlemen of the first -class watched that slave woman’s struggle up to the deck. - -When all the slaves were on board at last, a steward or one of the -ship’s officers mustered them in a row, and the ship’s doctor went -down the line to perform the medical examination, in accordance with -Chapter VI. of the Decree, enacting that no diseased or infectious -person shall be accepted. It is entirely to the doctor’s interest to -foster the health of the slaves, for, as I have already mentioned, -every death loses him two shillings. As a rule, as I have said, he -loses four per cent. of his cargo, or two dollars out of every possible -fifty. On this particular voyage, however, he was more fortunate, for -only two slaves out of the whole number died during the week, and were -thrown overboard during the first-class breakfast-hour, so that the -feelings of the passengers might not be harrowed. - -Next day after leaving Novo Redondo we reached Loanda and increased our -cargo by forty-two men and women, all tricked out in the most amazing -tartan plaids--the tartans of Israel in the Highlands. This made up -our total number of two hundred and seventy-two, not reckoning babies, -which, unhappily, I did not count. Probably there were about fifty. I -think neither the captain nor the doctor receives any percentage for -landing babies alive, but, of course, if they live to grow up on the -plantations, which is very seldom, they become even more valuable than -the imported adults, and the planter gets them gratis. - -Early next morning, when we were anchored off Ambriz, a commotion -suddenly arose on board, and the rumor ran that one of the slaves had -jumped into the sea from the bow. Soon we could see his black head -as he swam clear of the ship and struck out southwards, apparently -trusting to the current to bear him towards the coast. For he was a -native of a village near Ambriz and knew what he was about. It was -yearning at the sight of his own land that made him run the risk. The -sea was full of sharks, and I could only hope that they might devour -him before man could seize him again. Already a boat had been hastily -dropped into the water and was in pursuit, manned by two black men and -a white. They rowed fast over the oily water, and the swimmer struggled -on in vain. The chase lasted barely ten minutes and they were upon -him. Leaning over the side of the boat, they battered him with oars -and sticks till he was quiet. Then they dragged him into the boat, -laid him along the bottom, and stretched a piece of old sail over his -nakedness, that the ladies might not be shocked. He was brought to the -gangway and dragged, dripping and trembling, up the stairs. The doctor -and the government Agent, who accompanies each ship-load of slaves, -took him down into the hold, and there he was chained up to a post or -staple so that he might cause no trouble again. “Flog him! Flog him! -A good flogging!” cried the passengers. “Boa chicote!” I have not the -slightest doubt he was flogged without mercy, but if so, it was kept -secret--an unnecessary waste of pleasure, for the passengers would -thoroughly have enjoyed both the sight and sound of the lashing. The -comfortable and educated classes in all nations appear not to have -altered in the least since the days when the comfortable and educated -classes of Paris used to arrange promenades to see the Communards shot -in batches against a wall. They may whine and blubber over imaginary -sufferings in novels and plays, but touch their comfort, touch their -property--they are rattlesnakes then! - -We stopped at Cabinda in the Portuguese territory north of the Congo, -and at one or two other trading-places on the coast, and then we put -out northwest for the islands. On the eighth day after leaving Benguela -we came in sight of San Thomé. Over it the sky was a broken gray of -drifting rain-clouds. Only now and again we could see the high peaks -of the mountains, which run up to seven thousand feet. The valleys at -their base were shrouded in the pale and drizzling mists which hang -about them almost continually. Here and there a rounded hill, indigo -with forest, rose from the mists and showed us the white house of some -plantation and the little cluster of out-buildings and huts where the -slaves were to find their new home. Then, as on an enchanted island, -the ghostly fog stole over it again, and in another quarter some fresh -hill, indigo with forest, stood revealed. - -[Illustration: THE WOMEN HARDLY STIRRED AS WE APPROACHED SAN THOMÉ] - -The whole place smoked and steamed like a gigantic hot-house. In -fact, it is a gigantic hot-house. As nearly as possible, it stands upon -the equator, the actual line passing through the volcanic rocks of its -southern extremity. And even in the dry season from April to October -it is perpetually soaked with moisture. The wet mist hardly ceases to -hang among the hills and forest trees. The thick growth of the tropics -covers the mountains almost to their summits, and every leaf of verdure -drips with warm dew. - -The slaves on deck regarded the scene with almost complete apathy. -Some of the men leaned against the bulwark and silently watched the -points of the island as we passed. The women hardly stirred from their -places. They were occupied with their babies as usual, or lay about in -the unbroken wretchedness of despair. Two girls of about fifteen or -sixteen, evidently sisters, whom I had before noticed for a certain -pathetic beauty, now sat huddled together hand-in-hand, quietly crying. -They were just the kind of girls that the planters select for their -concubines, and I have little doubt they are the concubines of planters -now. But they cried because they feared they would be separated when -they came to land. - -In the confusion of casting anchor I stood by them unobserved, and in -a low voice asked them a few questions in Umbundu, which I had crammed -up for the purpose. The answers were brief, in sobbing whispers; -sometimes by gestures only. The conversation ran like this: - - “Why are you here?” - - “We were sold to the white men.” - - “Did you come of your own free will?” - - “Of course not.” - - “Where did you come from?” - - “From Bihé.” - - “Are you slaves or not?” - - “Of course we are slaves!” - - “Would you like to go back?” - -The delicate little brown hands were stretched out, palms downward, and -the crying began afresh. - -That night the slaves were left on board, but next morning (June 17th) -when I went down to the pier about nine o’clock, I found them being -landed in two great lighters. One by one the men and women were dragged -up on to the pier by their arms and loin-cloths and dumped down like -bales of goods. There they sat in four lines till all were ready, and -then, carrying their mats and babies, they were marched off in file -to the Curador’s house in the town beside the bay. Here they were -driven through large iron gates into a court-yard and divided up into -gangs according to the names of the planters who had requisitioned for -them. When the parties were complete, they were put under the charge -of gangers belonging to various plantations, and so they set out on -foot upon the last stage of their journey. When they reached their -plantation (which would usually be on the same day or the next, for the -island is only thirty-five miles long by fifteen broad) they would be -given a day or two for rest, and then the daily round of labor would -begin. For them there are no more journeyings, till that last short -passage when their dead bodies are lashed to poles and carried out to -be flung away in the forest. - -[Illustration: LINED UP ON THE PIER AT SAN THOMÉ] - - NOTE.--I have no direct evidence that the poison was given me - intentionally, but the “cumulative” evidence is rather strong. While - still in the interior I had been warned that the big slave-dealers had - somehow got to know of my purpose and were plotting against me. On the - coast the warnings increased, till my life became almost as ludicrous - as a melodrama, and I was obliged to “live each day as ’twere my - last”--an unpleasant and unprofitable mode of living. One man would - drop hints, another would give instances of Portuguese treachery. I - was often told the fate of a poor Portuguese trader named De Silva, - who objected to slavery and was going to Lisbon to expose the system, - but after his first meal on board was found dead in his cabin. People - in the street whispered of my fate. A restaurant-keeper at Benguela - told an English fellow-passenger on my ship that he had better not be - seen with me, for I was in great danger. My boy, who had followed me - right through from the Gold Coast with the fidelity of a homeless dog, - kept bringing me rumors of murder that he heard among the natives. - Two nights before the ship sailed I was at a dinner given by the - engineers of the new railway, and into my overcoat-pocket some one, - whom I wish publicly to thank, tucked a scrap of paper with the words, - “You are in great peril,” written in French. If there was a plot to - set upon me in the empty streets that night, it was prevented by an - Englishman who volunteered to go back with me, though I had not told - him of any danger. Next night I was poisoned. Owing to the frequent - warnings, I was ready with antidotes, but I think I should not have - reached the ship alive next day without the courageous and devoted - help of a South-African prospector who had been shut up with me in - Ladysmith. The Dutch trader with whom I was staying was himself far - above suspicion, but I shall not forget his indignant excitement when - he saw what had happened. Evidently it was what he had feared, though - I only told him I must have eaten something unwholesome. The tiresome - sense of apprehension lasted during my voyage to the islands, and I - was obliged to keep a dyspeptic watch upon the food. But I do not wish - to make much of these little personal matters. To American and English - people in their security they naturally seem absurd, and as a proof - how common the art of poisoning still is in Portuguese possessions I - will only mention that I have met a Portuguese trader in San Thomé who - carries about in his waistcoat a little packet of pounded glass which - he detected one evening in his soup, and that on the Portuguese ship - which finally took me from San Thomé to Lisbon a Portuguese official - died the day we started, from an illness due to his belief that he was - being poisoned, and that during the voyage a poor Belgian from the - interior gradually faded away under the same belief, and was carried - out at Lisbon in a dying condition. Of course both may have been mad, - but even madness does not take that form without something to suggest - it. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[11] I find that the latest published Consular Report on San Thomé and -Principe (1902) actually repeats the hypocritical fiction about the -redemption of slaves. After speaking of the “enormous mortality” on the -two islands, the Report continues: “So large a death-rate calls for -constant fresh supplies of laborers from Angola, the principal ports -from which they are obtained being Benguela, Novo Redondo, and Loanda, -where they are ransomed from the black traders who bring them from the -far interior.” Mr. Consul Nightingale, who wrote the Report, was, of -course, perfectly aware of the truth, and no doubt he wrote in irony. -But English people do not understand irony--least of all in an official -document. - -[12] There is a well-known carriers’ song with the refrain, “She has -crossed Ondumba ya Maria,” that being the name of a dry brook on this -road from Katumbella to Benguela. It means, “She has gone into slavery -to be sold for San Thomé”--“Gone to the devil,” or, “Gone to glory,” as -we say, almost indifferently. - -[13] See note on page 185. - - - - -X - -LIFE OF SLAVES ON THE ISLANDS - - -They stand in the Gulf of Guinea--those two islands of San Thomé and -Principe where the slaves die--about one hundred and fifty miles from -the nearest coast at the Gaboon River in French Congo. San Thomé -lies just above the equator, Principe some eighty miles north and a -little east of San Thomé, and a hundred and twenty miles southwest -of Fernando Po. San Thomé is about eight times as large as Principe, -and the population, which may now be reckoned considerably over forty -thousand, is also about eight times as large. It is difficult to say -what proportion of these populations are slaves. The official returns -of 1900 put the population of San Thomé at 37,776, including 19,211 -serviçaes, or slaves, with an import of 4572 serviçaes in 1901. And the -population of Principe was given as 4327, including 3175 serviçaes. But -the prosperity of the islands is increasing with such rapidity that -these numbers have now been probably far surpassed.[14] - -It is cocoa that has created the prosperity. In old days the islands -were famous for their coffee, and it is still perhaps the best in -Africa. But the trade in coffee sank to less than a half in the ten -years, 1891 to 1901, while in that time the cocoa trade increased -fourfold--from 3597 tons to 14,914--and since 1901 the increase has -been still more rapid. The islands possess exactly the kind of climate -that kills men and makes the cocoa-tree flourish. It is, as I have -described, a hot-house climate--burning heat and torrents of rain in -the wet season, from October to April; stifling heat and clouds of -dripping mist in the season that is called dry. In such an air and upon -the fine volcanic soil the cocoa-plant thrives wherever it is set, -and continues to produce all the year round. Nearly one-third of the -islands is now under cultivation, and the wild forest is constantly -being cleared away. In consequence, the value of land has gone up -beyond the dreams of a land-grabber’s avarice. Little plots that could -be had for the asking ten years ago now fetch their hundreds. There -is a story, perhaps mythical, that one of the greatest owners--once a -clerk or carrier in San Thomé--has lately refused £2,000,000 for his -plantations there. In 1901 the export trade from San Thomé alone was -valued at £764,830, having more than doubled in five years, and by -this time it is certainly over £1,000,000. There are probably about -two hundred and thirty plantations or “roças” on San Thomé now, -some employing as many as one thousand slaves. And on Principe there -are over fifty roças, with from three hundred to five hundred slaves -working upon the largest. All these evidences of increasing prosperity -must be very satisfactory to the private proprietors and to the -shareholders in the companies which own a large proportion of the land. -For the most part they live in Lisbon, enjoying themselves upon the -product of the cocoa-tree and the lives of men and women. - -One early morning at San Thomé I went out to visit a plantation -which is rightly regarded as a kind of model--a show-place for the -intelligent foreigner or for the Portuguese shareholder who feels -qualms as he banks his dividends. There were four hundred slaves on -the estate, not counting children, and I was shown their neat brick -huts in rows, quite recently finished. I saw them clearing the forest -for further plantation, clearing the ground under the cocoa-trees, -gathering the great yellow pods, sorting the brown kernels, which -already smelled like a chocolate-box, heaping them up to ferment, -raking them out in vast pans to dry, working in the carpenters’ -sheds, superintending the new machines, and gathering in groups for -the mid-day meal. I was shown the turbine engine, the electric light, -the beautiful wood-work in the manager’s house, the clean and roomy -hospital with its copious supply of drugs and anatomical curiosities -in bottles, the isolated house for infectious cases. To an outward -seeming, the Decree of 1903 for the regulation of the slave labor had -been carried out in every possible respect. All looked as perfect and -legal as an English industrial school. Then we sat down to an exquisite -Parisian _déjeuner_ under the bower of a drooping tree, and while I was -meditating on the hardships of African travel, a saying of another of -the guests kept coming back to my mind: “The Portuguese are certainly -doing a marvellous work for Angola and these islands. Call it slavery -if you like. Names and systems don’t matter. The sum of human happiness -is being infinitely increased.” - -The doctor had come up to pay his official visit to the plantation that -day. “The death-rate on this roça,” he remarked, casually, during the -meal, “is twelve or fourteen per cent. a year among the serviçaes.” -“And what is the chief cause?” I asked. “Anæmia,” he said. “That is a -vague sort of thing,” I answered; “what brings on anæmia?” “Unhappiness -[tristeza],” he said, frankly. - -He went on to explain that if they could keep a slave alive for three -or four years from the date of landing, he generally lived some time -longer, but it was very difficult to induce them to live through the -misery and homesickness of the first few years. - -This cause, however, does not account for the high mortality among the -children. On one of the largest and best-managed plantations of San -Thomé the superintendent admits a children’s death-rate of twenty-five -per cent., or one-quarter of all the children, every year. Our latest -consular reports do not give a complete return of the death-rate for -San Thomé, but on Principe 867 slaves died during 1901 (491 males and -376 females), which gives a total death-rate of 20.67 per cent. per -annum. In other words, you may calculate that among the slaves on -Principe one in every five will be dead by the end of the year.[15] - -No wonder that the price of slaves is high, and that it is almost -impossible for the supply from Angola to keep pace with the demand, -though the government calls on its Agents to drive the trade as hard as -they can, and the Agents do their very utmost to encourage the natives -to raid, kidnap, accuse of witchcraft, press for debts, soak in rum, -and sell. A manager in Principe, who employs one hundred and fifty -slaves on his roça, told me that it is impossible for him fully to -develop the land without two hundred more, but he simply cannot afford -the £6000 needed for the purchase of that number. - -The common saying that if you have seen one plantation you have seen -all is not exactly true. I found the plantations differed a good deal -according to the wealth of the proprietor and the superintendent’s -disposition. Still there is a general similarity in external things -from which one can easily build up a type. Let us take, for instance, a -roça which I visited one Sunday after driving some six or seven miles -into the interior from the port of San Thomé. The road led through -groves of the cocoa-tree, the gigantic “cotton-tree,” breadfruit, -palms, and many hard and useful woods which I did not know. For a -great part of the distance the wild and untouched forest stood thick -on both sides, and as we climbed into the mountains we looked down -into unpenetrated glades, where parrots, monkeys, and civet-cats are -the chief inhabitants. The sides of the road were thickly covered with -moss and fern, and the high rocks and tree-tops were from time to time -concealed by the soaking white mist which the people for some strange -reason call “flying-fish milk.” High up in the hills we came to a -filthy village, where a few slaves were drearily lying about, full of -the deadly rum that hardly even cheers. A few hundred yards farther -up was the roça which owns the village and runs the rum-shop there -for the benefit of the slaves and its own pocket. The buildings are -arranged in a great quadrangle, with high walls all round and big gates -that are locked at night. On one side stands the planter’s house, -and attached to it are the dwellings of the overseers, or gangers, -together with the quarters of such slaves as are employed for domestic -purposes, whether as concubines or servants. On the other side stand -the quarters of the ordinary slaves who labor on the plantation. They -are built in long sheds, and in a few cases these are two stories -high, but in most plantations only one. Some of the sheds are arranged -like the dormitories in our barracks; sometimes the homes are almost -or entirely isolated; sometimes, as in this roça, they are divided by -partitions, like the stalls in a stable. At one end of the quadrangle, -besides the magazines for the working and storage of the cocoa, there -is a huge barn, which the slaves use as a kitchen, each family making -its own little fire on the ground and cooking its rations separately, -as the unconquerable habit of all natives is. At the other end of the -quadrangle, sunk below the level of the fall of the hill, stands the -hospital, with its male and female wards duly divided according to law. - -[Illustration: SLAVE QUARTERS ON A PLANTATION] - -The centre of the quadrangle is occupied by great flat pans, paved with -cement or stones, for the drying of the cocoa-beans. Within the largest -of these enclosures the slaves are gathered two or three times a week -to receive their rations of meal and dried fish. At six o’clock on the -afternoon of my visit they all assembled to the clanging of the bell, -the grown-up slaves bringing large bundles of grass, which they had -gathered as part of their daily task, for the mules and cattle. They -stood round the edges of the square in perfect silence. In the centre -of the square at regular intervals stood the whity-brown gangers, -leaning on their long sticks or flicking their boots with whips. Beside -them lay the large and savage dogs which prowl round the buildings at -night to prevent the slaves escaping in the darkness. As it was Sunday -afternoon, the slaves were called upon to enjoy the Sunday treat. First -came the children one by one, and to each of them was given a little -sup of wine from a pitcher. Then the square began slowly to move round -in single file. Slabs of dried fish were given out as rations, and -for the special Sunday treat each man or woman received two leaves of -raw tobacco from one of the superintendent’s mistresses, or, if they -preferred it, one leaf of tobacco and a sup of wine in a mug. Nearly -all chose the two leaves of tobacco as the more lasting joy. When they -had received their dole, they passed round the square again in single -file, till all had made the circuit. From first to last not a single -word was spoken. It was more like a military execution than a festival. - -About once a month the slaves receive their wages in a similar manner. -By the Decree of 1903, the minimum wage for a man is fixed at 2500 reis -(something under ten shillings) a month, and for a woman at 1800 -reis. But, as a matter of fact, the planters tell me that the average -wage is 1200 reis a month, or about one and twopence a week. In some -cases the wages are higher, and one or two slaves were pointed out to -me whose wages came to fifteen shillings a month. I am told that in -the islands, unlike the custom on the mainland, these wages are really -paid in cash and not by tokens, but the planters always add that as the -money can only be spent in the plantation store, nearly all of it comes -back to them in the form of profit on rum or cloth or food. - -[Illustration: SLAVES WAITING FOR RATIONS ON SUNDAY] - -According to the law, only two-fifths of the wages are to be paid every -month, the remaining three-fifths going to a “Repatriation Fund” in -San Thomé. In the case of the slaves from Angola this is never done, -and it is much to the credit of the Portuguese that, as there is no -repatriation, they have dropped the institution of a Repatriation Fund. -They might easily have pocketed three-fifths of the slaves’ wages under -that excuse, but this advantage they have renounced. They never send -the slaves home, and they do not deduct the money for doing it. Neither -do they deduct a proportion of the wages which, according to the law, -might be sent to the mainland for the support of a man’s family till -the termination of his contract. They know a contract terminates only -at death, and from this easy method of swindling they also abstain. It -is, as I said, to their credit, the more because it is so unlike their -custom. - -For some reason which I do not quite understand--perhaps because they -come under French government--the Cape Verde serviçaes receive a higher -wage (three thousand reis for a man and twenty-five hundred for a -woman); about a third is deducted every month for repatriation, and -in many cases, at all events, the people are actually sent back. So -the planters told me, though I have not seen them on a returning ship -myself. - -According to the law, the wages of all slaves must be raised ten per -cent. if they agree to renew their contract for a second term of five -years. With the best will in the world, it would be almost impossible -to carry out this provision, for no slave ever does agree to renew his -contract. His wishes in the matter are no more consulted than a blind -horse’s in a coal-pit. The owner or Agent of the plantation waits till -the five years of about fifty of his slaves have expired. Then he sends -for the Curador from San Thomé, and lines up the fifty in front of him. -In the presence of two witnesses and his secretary the Curador solemnly -announces to the slaves that the term of their contract is up and the -contract is renewed for five years more. The slaves are then dismissed -and another scene in the cruel farce of contracted labor is over. One -of the planters told me that he thought some of his slaves counted the -years for the first five, but never afterwards. - -Some planters do not even go through the form of bringing the Curador -and the time-expired slaves face to face. They simply send down the -papers for signature, and do not mention the matter to the slaves at -all. At the end of June, 1905, a planter told me he had sent down the -papers in April and had not yet received them back. He was getting a -little anxious. “Of course,” he said, “it makes no difference whatever -to the slaves. They know nothing about it. But I like to comply with -the law.” - -In one respect, however, that well-intentioned citizen did not comply -with the law at all. The law lays it down that every owner of fifty -slaves must set up a hospital with separate wards for the sexes. This -man employed nearly two hundred slaves and had no hospital at all. The -official doctor came up and visited the sick in their crowded huts -twice a month. - -The law lays it down that a crèche shall be kept on each plantation -for children under seven, and certainly I have seen the little black -infants herding about in the dust together among the empty huts while -their parents were at work. Children are not allowed to be driven to -work before they are eleven, and up to fourteen they may be compelled -to do only certain kinds of labor. From fourteen to sixteen two kinds -of labor are excluded--cutting timber and trenching the coffee. After -sixteen they become full-grown slaves, and may be forced to do any kind -of work. These provisions are only legal, but, as I noticed before, -the children born on a plantation, if only they can be kept alive -to maturity, ought to make the most valuable kind of slaves. Their -keep has cost very little, and otherwise they come to the planter for -nothing, like all good gifts of God. This is what makes me doubt the -truth of a story one often hears about San Thomé, that a woman who -is found to be with child after landing is flogged to death in the -presence of the others. It is not the cruelty that makes me question -it. Give a lonely white man absolute authority over blacks, and there -is no length to which his cruelty may not go. But the loss in cash -would be too considerable. At landing, a woman has cost the planter as -much as two cows, and no good business man would flog a cow to death -because she was in calf. - -The same considerations tend, of course, to prevent all violent acts -of cruelty such as might bring death. The cost of slaves is so large, -the demand is so much greater than the supply, and the death-rate is -so terrible in any case that a good planter’s first thought is to do -all he can to keep his stock of slaves alive. It is true that in most -men passion easily overcomes interest, and for an outsider it is -impossible to judge of such things. When a stranger is coming, the word -goes round that everything must be made to look as smooth and pleasant -as possible. No one can realize the inner truth of the slave’s life -unless he has lived many years on the plantations. But I am inclined -to think that for business reasons the violent forms of cruelty are -unlikely and uncommon. Flogging, however, is common if not universal, -and so are certain forms of vice. The prettiest girls are chosen by -the Agents and gangers as their concubines--that is natural. But it -was worse when a planter pointed me out a little boy and girl of about -seven or eight, and boasted that like most of the children they were -already instructed in acts of bestiality, the contemplation of which -seemed to give him a pleasing amusement amid the brutalizing tedium of -a planter’s life. - -In spite of all precautions and the boasted comfort of their lot, some -of the slaves succeed in escaping. On San Thomé they generally take to -highway robbery, and white men always go armed in consequence. The law -decrees that a recaptured runaway is to be restored to his owner, and -after the customary flogging he is then set to work again. Sometimes -the runaways are hunted and shot down. On one of the mountains of San -Thomé, I am told, you may still see a heap of bones where a party of -runaway slaves were shot, but I have not seen them myself. For some -reason, perhaps because of the greater wildness of the island, there -are many more runaways on Principe, small as it is. The place is like a -magic land, the dream of some wild painter. Points of cliff run sheer -up from the sea, and between them lie secret little bays where a boat -may be pushed off quietly over the sand. In one such bay, where the -dense forest comes right down to the beach, a long canoe was gradually -scooped out in January (1905) and filled with provisions for a voyage. -When all was ready, eighteen escaped slaves launched it by night and -paddled away into the darkness of the sea. For many days and nights -they toiled, ignorant of all direction. They only knew that somewhere -across the sea was their home. But before their provisions were quite -spent, the current and the powers of evil that watch over slaves bore -them to the coast of Fernando Po. Thinking they had reached freedom at -last, they crept out of the boat on to the welcome shore, and there -the authorities seized upon them, and, to the endless shame of Spain, -packed them all on a steamer and sent them back in a single day to the -place from which they came. - -That is one of the things that make us anarchists. Probably there was -hardly any one on Fernando Po, though it is a slave island itself, who -would not willingly have saved those men if he had been left to his own -instincts. But directly the state authority came in, their cause was -hopeless. So it is that wherever you touch government you seem to touch -the devil. - -The eighteen were taken back to Principe, flogged almost to death in -the jail, returned to their owners, and any of them who survive are -still at work on the plantations, with but the memory of that brief -happiness and overwhelming defeat to think upon. - -When escaping slaves have reached the Cameroons, the Germans resolutely -refuse to give them back, and by that refusal they have done much to -cover the errors and harshness of their own colonial system. What would -happen now to slaves who reached Nigeria or the Gold Coast, one hardly -dares to think. There was a time when we used to hear fine stories of -slaves falling on the beach when they touched British territory and -kissing the soil of freedom. But that was long ago, and since then -England has grown rich and fallen from her high estate. Her hands are -no longer clean, and when people think of Johannesburg and Queensland -and western Australia, all she may say of freedom becomes an empty -sound, impressing no one. - -Last April (1905) another of the planters discovered a party of eight -of his own slaves just launching a canoe in hopes of escaping with -better success. They had crammed the canoe with provisions--slaughtered -pigs, meal, and water-casks--so many things that the planter told me -it would certainly have sunk and drowned them all. To prevent this -lamentable catastrophe he took them to the jail, had them flogged -almost to death by the jailer there, and brought them back to the huts -which they had so rashly attempted to leave in spite of their legal -contract and their supposed willingness to work on the plantations. - -In the interior, the island of Principe rises into great peaks, not so -high as the mountains of San Thomé, but very much more precipitous. -There is one peak especially where the rock falls so sheer that I think -it would be inaccessible to the best climber on that side. I have not -discovered the exact height of the mountains, but I should estimate -them as something between four and five thousand feet, and they, like -the whole island, are covered with forest and tropical growth, except -where the rock is too steep and smooth to give any hold for roots. -But, as a rule, one sees the mountains only by glimpses, for when I -have passed the island or landed there they have always been wrapped -in slowly moving mist, and I believe they are seldom clear of it. The -mist falls in a soaking drizzle, and it seems to rain heavily, besides, -almost every day, even in the dry season. Perhaps the moisture is -almost too great, for I noticed more rot upon the cocoa-pods here than -at San Thomé. - -Into these dripping forests and almost inaccessible mountains the -slaves are constantly trying to escape. A planter told me that many -of them do not realize what an island is. They hope to be able to make -their way home on foot. When they discover that the terrible sea foams -all round them, they turn into the forest and build little huts, from -which they are continually moving away. Here and there they plant -little patches of maize or other food with seed which they steal from -the plantations or which is secretly conveyed to them by the other -slaves. Some kind of communication is evidently kept up, for it is -thought the plantation slaves always know where the runaways are, and -sometimes betray them. I saw one man who had been living with them in -the forest himself and had come back with his hand cut off and his head -split open, probably for treachery. We asked him the reason; we asked -him to tell us something of the life out there; but at once he assumed -the native’s impenetrable look and would not speak another word. - -Women as well as men escape from time to time and join these fine -vindicators of freedom in the woods, but, chiefly owing to the deadly -climate and the extreme hardship of their life, the people do not -increase in numbers. About a thousand was the highest figure I heard -given for them; about two hundred the lowest. The number most generally -quoted was six hundred, but, in fact, it is quite impossible to count -them at all, for they are always changing their camps and are rarely -seen. The cotton cloths in which they escape go to pieces very soon, -and they all live in entire nakedness, except when the women take the -trouble to string together a few plantain leaves as aprons. Among them, -however, they have some clever craftsmen. They make good bows and -arrows for hunting the civet-cats and other animals that form their -chief food, and I have seen a two-handled saw made out of a common -knife or matchet--a very ingenious piece of work. It was found in the -hands of one of them who had been shot. - -For the most part they live a wandering and hard, but I hope not an -entirely unhappy, existence in the dense forest around the base of -that precipitous mountain of which I spoke. Every now and again the -Portuguese organize man-hunts to recapture or kill them off. Forming -a kind of cordon, they sweep over parts of the island, tying up or -shooting all they may find. But the Portuguese are so cowardly and -incapable in their undertakings that they are no match for alert -natives filled with the recklessness of despair, and the massacre has -never yet been complete. In fact, the hunting-parties are often broken -up by dissensions among rival strategists, and sometimes they appear to -degenerate into convivial meetings, at which drink is the object and -murder the excuse. - -Recently, however, there was a very successful shoot. The sportsmen -had been led by guides to a place where the escaped slaves were known -to be rather thick in the forest. They came upon huts evidently just -abandoned. Beside them, hidden in the grass, they found an old man. -“We took him,” said the planter who told me the story, with all a -sportsman’s relish, “and we forced him to tell us where the others -were. At first we could not squeeze a word or sign out of him. After -a long time, without saying anything, he lifted a hand towards the -highest trees, and there we saw the slaves, men and women, clinging -like bats to the under side of the branches. It was not long, I can -tell you, before we brought them crashing down through the leaves on to -the ground. My word, we had grand sport that day!” - -I can imagine no more noble existence than has fallen to those poor -and naked blacks, who have dared all for freedom, and, scorning the -stall-fed life of slavery, have chosen rather to throw themselves upon -such mercy as nature has, to wander together in nakedness and hunger -from forest to forest and hut to hut, to live in daily apprehension of -murder, to lurk like apes under the high branches, and at last to fall -to the bullets of the Christians, dead, but of no further service to -the commercial gentlemen who bought them and lose £30 by every death. - -Even to the slaves who remain on the plantations, not having the -courage or good-fortune to escape and die like wild beasts, death, as -a rule, is not much longer delayed in coming. Probably within the first -two or three years the slave’s strength begins to ebb away. With every -day his work becomes feebler, so that at last even the ganger’s whip -or pointed stick cannot urge him on. Then he is taken to the hospital -and laid upon the boarded floor till he dies. An hour or so afterwards -you may meet two of his fellow-slaves going into the forest. There is -perhaps a sudden smell of carbolic or other disinfectant upon the air, -and you take another look at the long pole the slaves are carrying -between them on their shoulders. Under the pole a body is lashed, -tightly wrapped up in the cotton cloth that was its dress while it -lived. The head is covered with another piece of cloth which passes -round the neck and is also fastened tightly to the pole. The feet and -legs are sometimes covered, sometimes left to dangle naked. In silence -the two slaves pass into some untrodden part of the forest, and the man -or woman who started on life’s journey in a far-off native village with -the average hope and delight of childhood, travels over the last brief -stage and is no more seen. - -Laws and treaties do not count for much. A law is never of much effect -unless the mind of a people has passed beyond the need of it, and -treaties are binding only on those who wish to be bound. But still -there are certain laws and treaties that we may for a moment recall: -in 1830 England paid £300,000 to the Portuguese provided they forbade -all slave-trade--which they did and pocketed the money; in 1842 England -and the United States agreed under the Ashburton Treaty to maintain -joint squadrons on the west coast of Africa for the suppression of the -slave-trade; in 1858 Portugal enacted a law that every slave belonging -to a Portuguese subject should be free in twenty years; in 1885, by -the Berlin General Act, England, the United States, and thirteen other -powers, including Portugal and Belgium, pledged themselves to suppress -every kind of slave-trade, especially in the Congo and the interior -of Africa; in 1890, by the Brussels General Act, England, the United -States, and fifteen other powers, including Portugal and Belgium, -pledged themselves to suppress every kind of slave-trade, especially -in the Congo and the interior of Africa, to erect cities of refuge for -escaped slaves, to hold out protection to every fugitive slave, to stop -all convoys of slaves on the march, and to exercise strict supervision -at all ports so as to prevent the sale or shipment of slaves across the -sea. - -If any one wanted a theme for satire, what more deadly theme could he -find? - -To which of the powers can appeal now be made? Appeal to England is no -longer possible. Since the rejection of Ireland’s home-rule bill, the -abandonment of the Armenians to massacre, and the extinction of the -South-African republics, she can no longer be regarded as the champion -of liberty or of justice among mankind. She has flung away her only -noble heritage. She has closed her heart of compassion, and for ten -years past the oppressed have called to her in vain. A single British -cruiser, posted off the coast of Angola, with orders to arrest every -mail-boat or other ship having serviçaes on board, would so paralyze -the system that probably it would never recover. But one might as soon -expect Russia or Germany to do it as England in her recent mood. She -will make representations, perhaps; she will remind Portugal of “the -old alliance” and the friendship between the royal families; but she -will do no more. What she says can have no effect; her tongue, which -was the tongue of men, has become like sounding brass; and if she spoke -of freedom, the nations would listen with a polished smile. - -From her we can turn only to America. There the sense of freedom still -seems to linger, and the people are still capable of greater actions -than can ever be prompted by commercial interests and the search for -a market. America’s record is still clean compared to England’s, and -her impulses to compassion and justice will not be checked by family -affection for the royalties of one out of the two most degraded, -materialized, and unintellectual little states of Europe. America may -still take the part that once was England’s by right of inheritance. -She may stand as the bulwark of freedom against tyranny, and of justice -and mercy--those almost extinct qualities--against the restless greed -and blood-thirsty pleasure-seeking of the world. Let America declare -that her will is set against slavery, and at her voice the abominable -trade in human beings between Angola and the islands will collapse as -the slave-trade to Brazil collapsed at the voice of England in the days -of her greatness. - -I am aware that, as I said in my first letter, the whole question of -slavery is still before us. It has reappeared under the more pleasing -names of “indentured labor,” “contract labor,” or the “compulsory -labor” which Mr. Chamberlain has advocated in obedience to the -Johannesburg mine-owners. The whole thing will have to be faced -anew, for the solutions of our great-grandfathers no longer satisfy. -While slavery is lucrative, as it is on the islands of San Thomé and -Principe, it will be defended by those who identify greatness with -wealth, and if their own wealth is involved, their arguments will gain -considerably in vigor. They will point to the necessity of developing -rich islands where no one would work without compulsion. They will -point to what they call the comfort and good treatment of the slaves. -They will protect themselves behind legal terms. But they forget that -legal terms make no difference to the truth of things. They forget that -slavery is not a matter of discomfort or ill treatment, but of loss -of liberty. They forget that it might be better for mankind that the -islands should go back to wilderness than that a single slave should -toil there. I know the contest is still before us. It is but part of -the great contest with capitalism, and in Africa it will be as long and -difficult as it was a hundred years ago in other regions of the world. -I have but tried to reveal one small glimpse in a greater battle-field, -and to utter the cause of a few thousands out of the millions of men -and women whose silence is heard only by God. And perhaps if the crying -of their silence is not heard even by God, it will yet be heard in the -souls of the just and the compassionate. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[14] An English resident at San Thomé estimates the serviçaes alone at -forty thousand. - -[15] London’s death-rate in 1903 was 15.7 per 1000 against Principe’s -206.7 per 1000. Liverpool had the highest death-rate of English cities. -It was 20.5 per 1000, or almost exactly one-tenth of the death-rate -among the serviçaes in Principe. The total death-rate for England and -Wales in 1902 was 16.2 per 1000. - - - - -INDEX - - - Abeokuta, walled city of, 3; - population of, 3. - - Accra, town of, 3. - - _A Defeza de Angola_, Loanda newspaper, 27. - - “Afoola,” native name for missionary, 142. - - “Agent,” the, 9, 29, 151-153, 163, 167, 169, 171-175, 181, 191, 196, - 199. - - Ambriz, 180, 181. - - American mission, Congregationalist, 140; - Wesleyan Episcopalian, 141. - - Amorim, Captain, 45, 119, 157. - - Angola, 26, 35, 37, 43, 51, 55, 67, 75, 83, 158. - - Antelopes, 72, 74, 77, 110. - - Ants, 6, 73, 112, 116. - - “Apeka” (slaves), 121. - - Arnot, F. S., missionary explorer, 51, 109, 141. - - Ashanti, town of, 1. - - Ashburton Treaty, 207. - - Atundwa plant, the, 109. - - Aureoles, 76. - - Axim, settlement of, 2. - - - Bailundu, district of, 45, 156; - mission village of, 158. - - Bailundu war of 1902, 45, 82, 115, 118, 141, 150, 157. - - Bananas, plantation of, 32. - - Barotzeland, 68. - - Barracoons, remains of, 13. - - Batatele cannibals, 52. - - Bees, 76, 107, 108. - - Beeswax, 42, 86, 149. - - Beit, Mr., 151. - - Belmonte, fort at, 84, 150. - - Benguela, town of, 43, 44, 46, 51, 69, 149, 169, 171, 173, 176, 178, - 182; - Boers at, 43. - - Berlin General Act, 207. - - Bihé, district of, 43, 45, 69, 77, 80, 83, 86, 104, 149-151, 152 _n_, - 153, 156, 175. - - Bihéans, the, born traders, 85, 86; - language of, 86; - villages of, 87; - public club (onjango) of, 88; - games of, 91; - proverbs of, 92; - folk-lore of, 94; - dancing of, 95; - musical instruments of, 96, 97; - witchcraft of, 99; - slavery among, 100, 115; - objections to burying slaves, 114; - eat those meeting with sudden death, 128; - thieves, 170. - - Birds, 7, 76, 110, 192. - - Black-headed crane, 76, 110. - - Bluebock, 77. - - Boer transport-riders, 43, 64, 82. - - Boers, long trek of, 67; - knowledge of oxen, 68; - trade in slaves, 68. - - Bogs, 65, 80, 81, 153, 154. - - Boiling springs, 153. - - Bourru-Bourru bog, 81, 154. - - “Boys,” native, 9, 16, 79. - - Brussels Conference of 1890, 149. - - Brussels General Act, 207. - - Buffaloes, 72, 74, 166. - - Burchell’s zebra (quagga), 74. - - Burial of slaves, 36, 114, 155, 206. - - Bush paths, 31, 85, 86, 115, 118. - - Bustard, great, 76. - - - Cabinda, in Portuguese territory, 182. - - Caconda, fort at, 68; - turning-point of journey, 77, 80. - - Caiala, town of, 84. - - Calabar, missionaries at, 14. - - Calei River, 81. - - Cameron’s, Commander, _Across Africa_, 110 _n_, 155 _n_, 157 _n_, 159 - _n_. - - Camps, rest, 160. - - Candombo, deserted village of, 82. - - Cannibals, 52, 86, 162. - - Cape Coast Castle settlement, 2. - - Caravans, slave, 86, 117, 120, 121, 126, 163, 167. - - Cassava, native food, 31. - - Catholic mission, 56, 78, 79, 140. - - Cats, civet, 192, 204. - - “Central Committee of Labor and Emigration,” 46, 102. - - Chain-gangs, 44, 119, 153 _n_, 171, 172. - - Chibokwe tribe, the, 83, 107-110, 126; - kill their slaves, 126; - file their teeth, 127; - eat those meeting with sudden death, 128; - trade in rubber, 128; - artistic, 129; - dancing of, 129; - religious rites of, 130; - witchcraft of, 131; - missionaries among, 132-148. - - Chicotes (hide whips), 120, 155. - - Children pawned into slavery, 29, 51, 150, 151. - - Chinjamba, pioneers at, 140. - - Chocolate from San Thomé and Principe islands, 167. - - Civet-cats, 192, 204. - - Cocoa, 26, 27, 32, 44, 46, 167, 188, 189, 192, 193. - - Coffee, 26, 32, 188, 198; - plantation, working a, 33. - - Coillard, M., missionary, 142. - - Coinage, real, in Central Africa, 42, 84, 85, 107. - - Commercial Company of Angola, 84. - - Committee of Emigration, 174. - - Concubines, slaves as, 53. - - Contract, form of, serviçaes, 28. - - Contract labor, 23, 26, 34-38, 48, 57, 116, 153, 167, 169, 173, 196, - 209; - form of contract, 28; - pay of, 38, 194-196, 208. - - Contrahidos or serviçaes, 27, 44, 46-48, 58, 172, 187, 190, 196, 208. - - Copper-mines, ancient, of Matanga, 86. - - Cotton cloth, 9, 33, 35, 42, 84-86. - - Cotton, trade in, 10. - - Crane, black-headed, 76, 110; - dancing, 76. - - Crocodiles, 6, 41, 165, 168. - - Cuando River, 75, 80. - - Cuanza River, 75, 83, 104-106, 111, 112, 126. - - Cunene River, 80. - - Cunughamba River, 82. - - Cunyama, the, 78. - - Cunyami natives, 68. - - Currency, recognized, in Central Africa, 42, 84, 85, 107. - - Currie, Mr., missionary, 142. - - - Dancing cranes, 76. - - Debtor, a, body left to jackals, 115. - - Decree of January 29, 1903, 158, 172-174, 176, 177, 180, 190, 194. - - Deer, 77, 110, 166. - - Deposits of magnesia, 153. - - Desert, Kalahari, 67. - - De Silva, fate of, 185. - - Ditch-canals, 32. - - Domestic slavery, 14, 17, 40-58, 100, 193. - - Doves, 76. - - Dried fish, “stinkfish,” 35, 37, 193, 194. - - Drum, native musical instrument, 96-99. - - Duiker, antelope, 77, 110. - - - Eagles, 76. - - Eckstein, Mr., 151. - - Elands, 72, 166. - - Elephants, 74, 75. - - “Empreza Nacional,” profits of, 175. - - English mission, Plymouth Brethren, 140. - - Eucalyptus-trees of Benguela, 43. - - Exportation of slaves, 23, 157, 158, 168-185. - - - Factories, 8-10, 12, 155. - - Fay, Mr., missionary, 142, 158. - - Fernando Po, island, 200. - - Ferries over the Cuanza, 111. - - Feudalism, 16. - - Fevers, 8, 105, 117, 150, 164, 168, 171. - - Flag-grasses, 31, 107. - - Flamingoes, 76. - - Fly, tsetse, 24. - - Form of contract, serviçaes, 28. - - Forts, 20, 21, 68, 70, 78, 84, 105, 111, 119, 124, 141, 150, 155, - 156-159. - - Francolins, 76. - - Fruits, trade in, 10. - - Fugitive slaves, 171, 179, 194, 199-201, 203, 205, 207. - - - Gangers, 34, 35, 155, 184, 193, 194, 199, 201, 206. - - Gnu, 77. - - Gold, 10. - - Grasses, 31, 107, 108, 153. - - Guinea-fowl, 76. - - Gums, trade in, 10. - - - Hartebeest, 77. - - Hawks, 7, 76. - - Hide whips (chicotes or sjamboks), 120. - - Hippopotamus, 83, 111, 165. - - Honey-guide, 76. - - Hornbill, 76. - - Hugo, Victor, quoted, 17, 18. - - “Hungry country,” the, 47, 105, 107, 110-112, 115, 116, 118, 122, 124, - 149, 164. - - Hunting slaves, 204, 205. - - Hyena, 76. - - - Il Principe Island, 48, 151, 167, 173, 187-202. - - India-rubber plant, 33. - - Islands, Il Principe, 48, 151, 167, 173, 187-202; - San Thomé, 26, 27, 44, 48, 51, 54, 116, 151-153, 157, 162, 163, 167, - 170, 172-174, 176, 182, 187-202; - Fernando Po, 200. - - Ivory, trade in, 10. - - - Jackals, debtors left to, 115. - - Johannesburg, 201. - - Ju-ju house, 13, 18, 173. - - - Kalahari Desert, 67. - - Kamundongo, mission at, 141. - - Kandundu, the, worship of, 99. - - Kanjumdu of Chiuka, Christian chief, 146. - - Kasai, tributary of the Congo, 106. - - Katanga, ancient copper-mines of, 40; - district, 86. - - Katumbella, river, 165; - town of, 41-43, 160, 169, 171. - - Kernels, trade in, 10. - - Kola, trade in, 10. - - Koodoo, 76, 166. - - Kraal, native chief’s, 81, 82. - - “Krooboys,” 15. - - Kukema River, 61, 80. - - - Ladysmith, 186. - - Lagoons of Lagos, 11. - - Lagos, town of, 2, 3, 13; - lagoons of, 11. - - Lake Ngami, 80. - - Lechwe, antelope, 77, 110. - - Legalized slavery, 27-29, 173. - - Leopards, 72, 76, 83, 87, 110, 156. - - “Letters of freedom,” 46. - - Life of slaves, the, 33-36, 187-210. - - Lions, 71-74, 76, 77, 83, 148, 160, 161. - - Livingstone, David, 32, 42, 51, 80. - - Loanda, St. Paul de, 19-23, 27, 40; - slaves shipped from, 180. - - Lobito Bay, possible future of, 40, 166, 169-171. - - Luchazi tribe, 104. - - Luena, tributary of the Zambesi, 106. - - Lungwebungu, tributary of the Zambesi, 106. - - Luimbi tribe, 104. - - - Magnesia, deposits of, 153. - - Mahogany, trade in, 10. - - Mangrove swamps, 5-7, 78. - - Mashiko, fort at, 105, 124. - - Matchets, 5, 34, 162, 204. - - Matota, fort at, 124. - - Mediums of exchange, 42, 84, 85, 107. - - Metallic starling, 76. - - Millet, trade in, 10. - - Mines, Transvaal, 16. - - Missionaries, 3, 14, 45, 79, 101, 109, 132-148. - - Missions, 56, 78, 79, 133, 138-141, 152 _n_, 158, 159. - - Monkeys, 7, 177, 192; - yellow, 162. - - Moolecky, poisonous herb, 64. - - Mortality among slaves, 25, 190, 198. - - Mosquitoes, 81. - - Mossamedes, 67, 152 _n_. - - “Mountain of Money,” the, ancient city of, 81. - - Mozambique, 16, 163. - - Mud-fish, 6. - - Mushi-Moshi (the Simoï), 118, 128. - - - Nanakandundu, district, 120; - villages of, 85. - - Native “boys,” 9, 16, 79; - instruments, 96, 97. - - New slavery, 17, 30. - - Newspapers, 4, 27. - - Niger, the, 5, 11. - - Nigeria, 7, 13, 14, 201. - - Nile, the, 1. - - Novo Redondo, 159, 175, 178, 180. - - Nurses, white women, on the Coast, 3. - - - Ochisanji, native musical instrument, 96, 97. - - Okavango River, the, 80. - - Onjango, public club of Bihéans, 88. - - Orange orchards, 84. - - Order of the Holy Spirit, 138, 140. - - Oribi, the, 77. - - Our Lady of Salvation, church of, 19, 20, 23. - - Ovampos, cattle-breeding tribe, 87. - - Overseers, plantation, 34. - - Ovimbundu, the, 85. - - Oxen, characteristics of, 62-65; - riding, 66; - language of, 67; - Boers’ knowledge of, 68, 87; - love of salt, 62, 107; - children pawned for, 150. - - Ox-wagon, mode of conveyance, 43, 59-62, 148. - - - Palm-oil, 4, 8, 10, 13. - - Parrots, 7, 76, 110, 192. - - Peho, Mona, chief, 110 _n_; - town of, 109. - - Plantations, 31, 188, 189, 190, 197; - banana, 32; - coffee, working a, 33; - overseers, 34, 35, 39; - slavery, 13, 17, 19-39, 49; 58, 100, 193, 203; - sugar-cane, 159; - sweet-potato, 84, 155, 159. - - Polygamy, 89, 145, 146. - - Porcupines, 110. - - Profits on slaves, 174, 175. - - Python, 76. - - - Quagga (Burchell’s zebra), 74. - - Queensland, 201. - - - Railways, 31, 40, 41, 169, 185. - - “Redeemed” slaves, 153, 165, 169, 173. - - Redondo, Novo, 159, 175, 178, 180. - - Red peppers, trade in, 10. - - Reedbuck, 77. - - “Repatriation Fund,” 48, 195. - - Rest camps, 160, 161, 163. - - Riding-ox, 66. - - Rivers, 1, 5, 11, 31, 61, 80-83, 104-106, 111, 118, 124, 128, 165. - - “Robert Williams Concession,” 40, 45. - - Rubber, India, 26, 33, 42, 85, 86, 122, 128, 149, 150. - - Rum, 4, 26, 29, 32, 35, 42, 145, 146, 149, 150, 155, 159, 164, 170, - 172, 191, 192, 195. - - - Saccanjimba, mission village of, 159. - - Salt, 9, 42, 62, 63, 86, 107-109, 128, 149, 164. - - San Thomé, island of, 26, 27, 44, 48, 51, 54, 116, 151, 152, 153, 157, - 162, 163, 167, 170, 172-174, 176, 182, 187-202. - - Sanders, Mr., missionary, 142. - - Scottish missionaries, 14. - - Sekundi, settlement of, 2. - - Serviçaes, 27, 44, 46-48, 58, 172, 187, 190, 196, 208; - form of contract, 28. - - Settlements, 2, 159, 175, 178, 180, 141, 152. - - Shackles, slave, 42, 46, 111-113, 117, 119, 152, 159, 160. - - Sharks, 181. - - Ships, slave, 169, 172, 175, 176. - - Sierra Leone, 1. - - Silva Porto, slave-trader, 84. - - Sjamboks (hide whips), 55, 120. - - Slave, caravan, 86, 117, 120, 121, 126, 163, 167; - hunting, 204, 205; - market, 46, 83, 84; - shackles, 111-113, 117, 119, 152, 159, 160; - ships, 169, 172, 176; - trade, 13, 30, 43, 45, 58, 80, 84-86, 113, 150, 151, 157, 172, 174, - 207, 209; - traders, 13, 46, 51, 52, 79, 84, 103, 115, 118, 152 _n_, 168; - traffic, 124, 153, 158. - - Slavery, 12, 14, 37, 48, 49, 51, 55, 57, 58, 100, 102, 145, 147, 150, - 151; - domestic, 14, 17, 40-58, 100, 193; - legalized, 27, 29, 173; - new, 17, 30; - plantation, 13, 17, 19-39, 49, 58, 100, 193, 203; - tribal, 14, 16. - - Slaves, 13, 37, 42-44, 46, 48, 50, 55, 85, 86, 102, 111, 113, 114, - 118, 119, 122, 126, 139, 150, 152, 153, 155, 157, 162, 158 _n_, 168, - 172, 174, 177, 179, 184, 189; - as concubines, 53; - burial of, 36, 114, 155, 206; - chain-gangs, 44, 119, 153 _n_, 171, 172; - exportation of, 23, 157, 158, 168-185; - fugitives, 38, 171, 179, 194, 199-201, 203, 205, 207; - life of, 33-36, 187-210; - mortality among, 25, 190, 198; - profits on, 174, 175; - “redeemed,” 155, 163, 165, 169, 173; - stamp duty on, 175; - treatment of, 54-56, 112-115, - 117, 122, 151, 155, 162, 163, 167, 178, 179, 181, 198, 199; - value of, 29, 50-53, 85, 102, 114, 162, 167, 174; - wages of, 38, 194-196. - - Sleeping-sickness, the, 24-26; - symptoms of, 24; - duration of, 25; - mortality of, 25; - its effects upon the labor supply, 26. - - Small-pox, 24. - - Snakes, 76, 157. - - Springs, boiling, 153. - - Stamp duty on slaves, 175. - - Standard of value in Central Africa, 42, 84, 85, 107. - - Starling, metallic, 76. - - “Stinkfish,” dried fish, 35, 37. - - Stinking water-buck, 77. - - Stover, Mr., missionary, 142, 158. - - Sugar-cane, 26, 32, 159. - - Swamps, mangrove, 5-8, 78. - - Sweet-potato, 164; - plantations, 84, 155. - - - “Tanganyika Concession,” 40, 85. - - Tax on slaves, 175. - - “The Rivers,” 5, 7. - - Tobacco, 88, 164, 194. - - Towns, 2, 3, 13, 14, 19-23, 27, 40, 41-44, 46, 51, 69, 82, 84, 109, - 110, 149, 152, 159, 169, 171, 173, 175, 176, 178, 180, 182, 186. - - Trade in slaves, 13, 30, 43, 45, 58, 80, 85, 86, 113, 150, 151, 157, - 172, 174, 207, 209. - - Traders, slave, 13, 46, 51, 52, 79, 84, 103, 118, 152 _n_, 168. - - Traffic in slaves, 124, 153, 158. - - Transvaal mines, labor forced to, 16. - - Treatment of slaves, 54-56, 112, 113, 115, 117, 122, 151, 155, 162, - 163, 167, 178, 179, 181, 198, 199. - - Treaty, Ashburton, 207. - - Trek, distance reckoned by, 69; - long, of Boers, 67; - ox, 60-67. - - Tribal slavery, 14, 16. - - Tribes, native, 68, 78, 86, 87, 104, 107, 126. - - Tsetse-fly, 24. - - - Umbala, or King’s fortress, 156, 158. - - Umbundu, language of Bihéans, 86. - - Upeka (slave), 121 _n_. - - - Value, of slaves, 29, 50-53, 85, 102, 114, 162, 167, 174; - standard of, in Central Africa, 42, 84, 85, 107. - - Vultures, 76. - - - Wages of slaves, 38, 194, 195. - - Wagon, ox, mode of conveyance, 43, 59-62, 148. - - Walled city of Abeokuta, 3; - population of, 3. - - Wart-hogs, 110. - - Water-buck, stinking, 77. - - Wesleyan Episcopalian order, 141. - - Wild animals, 7, 71-77, 83, 87, 110, 111, 115, 156, 160-162, 165, 166, - 177, 192, 204. - - Wildebeest, 77. - - Witchcraft, 99, 131, 170, 191. - - Women, white, on the coast, 3, 4; - nurses, 3. - - - Yams, trade in, 10. - - - Zambesi, awarded to Great Britain, rumor of, 110; - river, 106, 124. - - Zebras, 72, 74. - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - -In a few cases, obvious errors or omissions in punctuation were -corrected. - -Page 21: “Portuguese War Depatment” changed to “Portuguese War -Department” - -Page 24: “hitherto suppoed to” changed to “hitherto supposed to” - -Page 38: “been bought themelves” changed to “been bought themselves” - -Page 47: “Under similiar circumstances” changed to “Under similar -circumstances” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN SLAVERY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Nevinson</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Modern Slavery</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Henry W. Nevinson</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 28, 2022 [eBook #67530]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Peter Becker and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN SLAVERY ***</div> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img000"> - <img src="images/000.jpg" class="w50" alt="HENRY W. NEVINSON" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">HENRY W. NEVINSON<br /> -Photograph by Elliott & Fry</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - - -<h1> A MODERN SLAVERY</h1> - -<p class="center p0 p2"> BY</p> - -<p class="center p0 xbig"> HENRY W. NEVINSON</p> - -<p class="center p0"> ILLUSTRATED</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img001"> - <img src="images/001.jpg" class="w10" alt="Decorative image" /> -</span></p> - -<p class="center p0"> LONDON AND NEW YORK<br /> -<span class="big">HARPER <i>&</i> BROTHERS PUBLISHERS</span><br /> -MCMVI -</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="bbox thin p2"> - -<p class="center p0"> Copyright, 1906, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="center p0"> <i>All rights reserved.</i></p> - -<p class="center p0"> Published May, 1906. -</p> -</div> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - - -<p class="center p0 p2">DEDICATED TO</p> - -<p class="center p0">MY SISTER</p> - -<p class="center p0 big">MARIAN NEVINSON -</p> - -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<th class="tdl" colspan="2"> -<span class="allsmcap">CHAP.</span> -</th> -<th class="tdr page"> -<span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span> -</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#I">I</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">Introductory</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_1">1</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#II">II</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">Plantation Slavery on the Mainland</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_19">19</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#III">III</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">Domestic Slavery on the Mainland</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_40">40</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#IV">IV</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">On Route to the Slave Centre</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_59">59</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#V">V</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">The Agents of the Slave-Trade</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_83">83</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#VI">VI</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">The Worst Part of the Slave Route</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_104">104</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#VII">VII</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">Savages and Missions</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_126">126</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#VIII">VIII</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">The Slave Route to the Coast</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_149">149</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#IX">IX</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">The Exportation of Slaves</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_168">168</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#X">X</a>. -</td> -<td> -<span class="smcap">Life of Slaves on the Islands</span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_187">187</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -</td> -<td> -<a href="#INDEX"><span class="smcap">Index</span> </a> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_211">211</a> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ILLUSTRATIONS">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img000">HENRY W. NEVINSON</a> -</td> -<td colspan="2" class="tdr"> -<i>Frontispiece</i> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img002">MAP OF PORTUGUESE WEST AFRICA</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc"> -<span class="small"><i>Facing p.</i></span> -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_1">1</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img003">AN AFRICAN SWAMP</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_6">6</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img004">THE “KROOBOYS” WORKING A SHIP ALONG THE COAST</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_16">16</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img005">NATIVES IN CHARACTERISTIC DRESS</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_22">22</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img006">PLANTER’S HOUSE ON AN ANGOLA ESTATE</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_34">34</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img007">FIRST MAIL-STEAMER AT LOBITO BAY</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_40">40</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img008">END OF THE GREAT SLAVE ROUTE AT KATUMBELLA</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_42">42</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img009">AWKWARD CROSSING</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_60">60</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img010">CATHOLIC MISSION AT CACONDA</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_78">78</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img011">CARRIERS ON THE MARCH</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_84">84</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img012">BIHÉAN MUSICIANS</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_96">96</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img013">CROSSING THE CUANZA</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_104">104</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img014">NATIVES BURNING GRASS FOR SALT</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_108">108</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img015">SKELETON OF SLAVE ON A PATH THROUGH THE HUNGRY COUNTRY</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_112">112</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img016">A CHIBOKWE FORGE WHERE NATIVE SPEARS ARE MADE</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_128">128</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img017">A CHIBOKWE WOMAN AND HER FETICHES</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_132">132</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img018">ON THE WAY TO THE COAST</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_150">150</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img019">CARRIERS’ REST-HUTS</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_160">160</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img020">“ALL DAY LONG THEY LIE ABOUT THE LOWER DECK”</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_176">176</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img021">THE WOMEN HARDLY STIRRED AS WE APPROACHED SAN THOMÉ</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_182">182</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img022">LINED UP ON THE PIER AT SAN THOMÉ</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_184">184</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img023">SLAVE QUARTERS ON A PLANTATION</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_192">192</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -<a href="#img024">SLAVES WAITING FOR RATIONS ON SUNDAY</a> -</td> -<td class="tdc">” -</td> -<td class="tdr page"> -<a href="#Page_194">194</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The following chapters describe my journey in the Portuguese province -of Angola (West Central Africa), and in the Portuguese islands of San -Thomé and Principe, during the years 1904, and 1905.</p> - -<p>The journey was undertaken at the suggestion of the editor of -<i>Harper’s Monthly Magazine</i>, but in choosing this particular -part of Africa for investigation I was guided by the advice of the -Aborigines Protection Society and the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery -Society in London, and I wish to thank the secretaries of both these -societies for their great assistance.</p> - -<p>I also wish to thank the British and American residents on the mainland -and the islands—and especially the missionaries—for their unfailing -hospitality and help. As far as possible, I kept the object of my -journey from them, knowing that direct aid to my purpose might bring -trouble on them afterwards. Yet even when they knew or suspected the -truth, I found no difference in their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span> kindliness, though I was often -tiresome with sickness, and their own provisions were often very short.</p> - -<p>The illustrations are from photographs taken by myself, but on the mail -slave-ship from Benguela to San Thomé I had the advantage of borrowing -a better camera than my own.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">London</span>, <i>March, 1906</i>.</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img002"> - <img src="images/002.jpg" class="w50" alt="MAP OF PORTUGUESE WEST AFRICA" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">MAP OF PORTUGUESE WEST AFRICA showing islands of -Principe and San Thomé To which slaves are deported from the interior</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="A_MODERN_SLAVERY">A MODERN SLAVERY</h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="I">I<br /> -<span class="small">INTRODUCTORY</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>For miles on miles there is no break in the monotony of the scene. Even -when the air is calmest the surf falls heavily upon the long, thin -line of yellow beach, throwing its white foam far up the steep bank of -sand. And beyond the yellow beach runs the long, thin line of purple -forest—the beginning of that dark forest belt which stretches from -Sierra Leone through West and Central Africa to the lakes of the Nile. -Surf, beach, and forest—for two thousand miles that is all, except -where some great estuary makes a gap, or where the line of beach rises -to a low cliff, or where a few distant hills, leading up to Ashanti, -can be seen above the forest trees.</p> - -<p>It is not a cheerful part of the world—“the Coast.” Every prospect -does not please, nor is it only man that is vile. Man, in fact, is no -more vile than elsewhere; but if he is white he is very often dead.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> -We pass in succession the white man’s settlements, with their ancient -names so full of tragic and miserable history—Axim, Sekundi, Cape -Coast Castle, and Lagos. We see the old forts, built by Dutch and -Portuguese to protect their trade in ivory and gold and the souls of -men. They still gleam, white and cool as whitewash can make them, -among the modern erections of tin and iron that have a meaner birth. -And always, as we pass, some “old Coaster” will point to a drain or an -unfinished church, and say, “That was poor Anderson’s last bit.” And -always when we stop and the officials come off to the ship, drenched -by the surf in spite of the skill of native crews, who drive the -boats with rapid paddles, hissing sharply at every stroke to keep the -time—always the first news is of sickness and death. Its form is -brief: “Poor Smythe down—fever.” “Poor Cunliffe gone—black-water.” -“Poor Tompkinson scuppered—natives.” Every one says, “Sorry,” and -there’s no more to be said.</p> - -<p>It is not cheerful. The touch of fate is felt the more keenly because -the white people are so few. For the most part, they know one another, -at all events by classes. A soldier knows a soldier. Unless he is -very military, indeed, he knows the district commissioner, and other -officials as well. An official knows an official, and is quite on -speaking terms with the soldiers. A trader knows a trader, and ceases -to watch him with malignant jealousy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> when he dies. It is hard to -realize how few the white men are, scattered among the black swarms of -the natives. I believe that in the six-mile radius round Lagos (the -largest “white” town on the Coast) the whites could not muster one -hundred and fifty among the one hundred and forty thousand blacks. And -in the great walled city of Abeokuta, to which the bit of railway from -Lagos runs, among a black population of two hundred and five thousand, -the whites could hardly make up twenty all told. So that when one white -man disappears he leaves a more obvious gap than he would in a London -street, and any white man may win a three days’ fame by dying.</p> - -<p>Among white women, a loss is naturally still more obvious and -deplorable. Speaking generally, we may say the only white women on the -Coast are nurses and missionaries. A benevolent government forbids -soldiers and officials to bring their wives out. The reason given is -the deadly climate, though there are other reasons, and an exception -seems to be made in the case of a governor’s wife. She enjoys the -liberty of dying at her own discretion. But Accra, almost alone of the -Coast towns, boasts the presence of two or three English ladies, and I -have known men overjoyed at being ordered to appointments there. Not -that they were any more devoted to the society of ladies than we all -are, but they hoped for a better chance of surviving<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> in a place where -ladies live. Vain hope; in spite of cliffs and clearings, in spite of -golf and polo, and ladies, too, Death counts his shadows at Accra much -the same as anywhere else.</p> - -<p>You never can tell. I once landed on a beach where it seemed that death -would be the only chance of comfort in the tedious hell. On either -hand the flat shore stretched away till it was lost in distance. Close -behind the beach the forest swamp began. Upon the narrow ridge nine -hideous houses stood in the sweltering heat, and that was all the -town. The sole occupation was an exchange of palm-oil for the deadly -spirit which profound knowledge of chemistry and superior technical -education have enabled the Germans to produce in a more poisonous form -than any other nation. The sole intellectual excitement was the arrival -of the steamers with gin, rum, and newspapers. Yet in that desolation -three European ladies were dwelling in apparent amity, and a volatile -little Frenchman, full of the joy of life, declared he would not change -that bit of beach—no, not for all the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">cafés chantants</i> of his -native Marseilles. “There is not one Commandment here!” he cried, -unconsciously imitating the poet of Mandalay; and I suppose there is -some comfort in having no Commandments, even where there is very little -chance of breaking any.</p> - -<p>The farther down the Coast you go the more melancholy is the scene. -The thin line of yellow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> beach disappears. The forest comes down into -the sea. The roots of the trees are never dry, and there is no firm -distinction of land and water. You have reached “the Rivers,” the delta -of the Niger, the Circle of the mangrove swamps, in which Dante would -have stuck the Arch-Traitor head downward if only he had visited this -part of the world. I gained my experience of the swamps early, but -it was thorough. It was about the third time I landed on the Coast. -Hearing that only a few miles away there was real solid ground where -strange beasts roamed, I determined to cut a path through the forest in -that direction. Engaging two powerful savages armed with “matchets,” -or short, heavy swords, I took the plunge from a wharf which had been -built with piles beside a river. At the first step I was up to my -knees in black sludge, the smell of which had been accumulating since -the glacial period. Perhaps the swamps are forming the coal-beds of a -remote future; but in that case I am glad I did not live at Newcastle -in a remote past. As in a coronation ode, there seemed no limit to the -depths of sinking. One’s only chance was to strike a submerged trunk -not yet quite rotten enough to count as mud. Sometimes it was possible -to cling to the stems or branches of standing trees, and swing over the -slime without sinking deep. It was possible, but unpleasant; for stems -and branches and twigs and fibres are generally<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> covered with every -variety of spine and spike and hook.</p> - -<p>In a quarter of an hour we were as much cut off from the world as on -the central ocean. The air was dark with shadow, though the tree-tops -gleamed in brilliant sunshine far above our heads. Not a whisper of -breeze nor a breath of fresh air could reach us. We were stifled with -the smell. The sweat poured from us in the intolerable heat. Around us, -out of the black mire, rose the vast tree trunks, already rotting as -they grew, and between the trunks was woven a thick curtain of spiky -plants and of the long suckers by which the trees draw up an extra -supply of water—very unnecessarily, one would have thought.</p> - -<p>Through this undergrowth the natives, themselves often up to the middle -in slime, slowly hacked a way. They are always very patient of a -white man’s insanity. Now and then we came to a little clearing where -some big tree had fallen, rotten from bark to core. Or we came to a -“creek”—one of the innumerable little watercourses which intersect -the forest, and are the favorite haunt of the mud-fish, whose eyes are -prominent like a frog’s, and whose side fins have almost developed into -legs, so that, with the help of their tails, they can run over the -slime like lizards on the sand. But for them and the crocodiles and -innumerable hosts of ants and slugs, the lower depths of the mangrove -swamp<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> contain few living things. Parrots and monkeys inhabit the -upper world where the sunlight reaches, and sometimes the deadly -stillness is broken by the cry of a hawk that has the flight of an owl -and fishes the creeks in the evening. Otherwise there is nothing but -decay and stench and creatures of the ooze.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img003"> - <img src="images/003.jpg" class="w50" alt="AN AFRICAN SWAMP" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">AN AFRICAN SWAMP</p> - -<p class="p2">After struggling for hours and finding no change in the swamp and no -break in the trees, I gave up the hope of that rising ground, and -worked back to the main river. When at last I emerged, sopping with -sweat, black with slime, torn and bleeding from the thorns, I knew that -I had seen the worst that nature can do. I felt as though I had been -reforming the British War Office.</p> - -<p>It is worth while trying to realize the nature of these wet forests and -mangrove swamps, for they are the chief characteristic of “the Coast” -and especially of “the Rivers.” Not that the whole even of southern -Nigeria is swamp. Wherever the ground rises, the bush is dry. But from -a low cliff, like “The Hill” at Calabar, although in two directions you -may turn to solid ground where things will grow and man can live, you -look south and west over miles and miles of forest-covered swamp that -is hopeless for any human use. You realize then how vain is the chatter -about making the Coast healthy by draining the mangrove swamps. Until -the white man develops a new kind of blood and a new kind of inside, -the Coast will kill him. Till<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> then we shall know the old Coaster -by the yellow and streaky pallor of a blood destroyed by fevers, by -a confused and uncertain memory, and by a puffiness that comes from -enfeebled muscle quite as often as from insatiable thirst.</p> - -<p>It is through swamps like these that those unheard-of “punitive -expeditions” of ours, with a white officer or two, a white sergeant -or two, and a handful of trusty Hausa men, have to fight their way, -carrying their Maxim and three-inch guns upon their heads. “I don’t -mind as long as the men don’t sink above the fork,” said the commandant -of one of them to me. And it is beside these swamps that the traders, -for many short-lived generations past, have planted their “factories.”</p> - -<p>The word “factory” points back to a time when the traders made the -palm-oil themselves. The natives make nearly the whole of it now and -bring it down the rivers in casks, but the “factories” keep their name, -though they are now little more than depots of exchange and retail -trade. Formerly they were made of the hulks of ships, anchored out in -the rivers, and fitted up as houses and stores. A few of the hulks -still remain, but of late years the traders have chosen the firmest -piece of “beach” they could find, or else have created a “beach” by -driving piles into the slime, and on these shaky and unwholesome -platforms have erected dwelling-houses with big verandas, a series of -sheds for the stores,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> and a large barn for the shop. Here the “agent” -(or sometimes the owner of the business) spends his life, with one or -two white assistants, a body of native “boys” as porters and boatmen, -and usually a native woman, who in the end returns to her tribe and -hands over her earnings in cash or goods to her chief.</p> - -<p>The agent’s working-day lasts from sunrise to sunset, except for the -two hours at noon consecrated to “chop” and tranquillity. In the -evening, sometimes he gambles, sometimes he drinks, but, as a rule, -he goes to bed. Most factories are isolated in the river or swamp, -and they are pervaded by a loneliness that can be felt. The agent’s -work is an exchange of goods, generally on a large scale. In return -for casks of oil and bags of “kernels,” he supplies the natives with -cotton cloth, spirits, gunpowder, and salt, or from his retail store he -sells cheap clothing, looking-glasses, clocks, knives, lamps, tinned -food, and all the furniture, ornaments, and pictures which, being too -atrocious even for English suburbs and provincial towns, may roughly be -described as Colonial.</p> - -<p>From the French coasts, in spite of the free-trade agreement of 1898, -the British trader is now almost entirely excluded. On the Ivory Coast, -Dahomey, French Congo, and the other pieces of territory which connect -the enormous African possessions of France with the sea, you will -hardly find a British<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> factory left, though in one or two cases the -skill and perseverance of an agent may just keep an old firm going. In -the German Cameroons, British houses still do rather more than half the -trade, but their existence is continually threatened. In Portuguese -Angola one or two British factories cling to their old ground in hopes -that times may change. In the towns of the Lower Congo the British -firms still keep open their stores and shops; but the well-known policy -of the royal rubber merchant, who bears on his shield a severed hand -sable, has killed all real trade above Stanley Pool. In spite of all -protests and regulations about the “open door,” it is only in British -territory that a British trader can count upon holding his own. It may -be said that, considering the sort of stuff the British trader now -sells, this is a matter of great indifference to the world. That may be -so. But it is not a matter of indifference to the British trader, and, -in reality, it is ultimately for his sake alone that our possessions -in West Africa are held. Ultimately it is all a question of soap and -candles.</p> - -<p>We need not forget the growing trade in mahogany and the growing trade -in cotton. We may take account of gold, ivory, gums, and kola, besides -the minor trades in fruits, yams, red peppers, millet, and the beans -and grains and leaves which make a native market so enlivening to a -botanist. But, after all, palm-oil and kernels are the things that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -count, and palm-oil and kernels come to soap and candles in the end. -It is because our dark and dirty little island needs such quantities -of soap and candles that we have extended the blessings of European -civilization to the Gold Coast and the Niger, and beside the lagoons of -Lagos and the rivers of Calabar have placed our barracks, hospitals, -mad-houses, and prisons. It is for this that district commissioners -hold their courts of British justice and officials above suspicion -improve the perspiring hour by adding up sums. For this the natives -trim the forest into golf-links. For this devoted teachers instruct the -Fantee boys and girls in the length of Irish rivers and the order of -Napoleon’s campaigns. For this the director of public works dies at his -drain and the officer at a palisade gets an iron slug in his stomach. -For this the bugles of England blow at Sokoto, and the little plots of -white crosses stand conspicuous at every clearing.</p> - -<p>That is the ancestral British way of doing things. It is for the sake -of the trade that the whole affair is ostensibly undertaken and carried -on. Yet the officer and the official up on “The Hill” quietly ignore -the trader at the foot, and are dimly conscious of very different aims. -The trader’s very existence depends upon the skill and industry of the -natives. Yet the trader quietly ignores the native, or speaks of him -only as a lazy swine who ought to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> be enslaved as much as possible. And -all the time the trader’s own government is administering a singularly -equal justice, and has, within the last three years, declared slavery -of every kind at an end forever.</p> - -<p>In the midst of all such contradictions, what is to be the real -relation of the white races to the black races? That is the ultimate -problem of Africa. We need not think it has been settled by a century’s -noble enthusiasm about the Rights of Man and Equality in the sight -of God. Outside a very small and diminishing circle in England and -America, phrases of that kind have lost their influence, and for the -men who control the destinies of Africa they have no meaning whatever. -Neither have they any meaning for the native. He knows perfectly well -that the white people do not believe them.</p> - -<p>The whole problem is still before us, as urgent and as uncertain as -it has ever been. It is not solved. What seemed a solution is already -obsolete. The problem will have to be worked through again from the -start. Some of the factors have changed a little. Laws and regulations -have been altered. New and respectable names have been invented. But -the real issue has hardly changed at all. It has become a part of the -world-wide issue of capital, but the question of African slavery still -abides.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> - -<p>We may, of course, draw distinctions. The old-fashioned export of human -beings as a reputable and staple industry, on a level with the export -of palm-oil, has disappeared from the Coast. Its old headquarters were -at Lagos; and scattered about that district and in Nigeria and up the -Congo one can still see the remains of the old barracoons, where the -slaves were herded for sale or shipment. In passing up the rivers you -may suddenly come upon a large, square clearing. It is overgrown now, -but the bush is not so high and thick as the surrounding forest, and -palms take the place of the mangrove-trees. Sometimes a little Ju-ju -house is built by the water’s edge, with fetiches inside; and perhaps -the natives have placed it there with some dim sense of expiation. -For the clearing is the site of an old barracoon, and misery has -consecrated the soil. Such things leave a perpetual heritage of woe. -The English and the Portuguese were the largest slave-traders upon the -Coast, and it is their descendants who are still paying the heaviest -penalty. But that ancient kind of slave-trade may for the present be -set aside. The British gun-boats have made it so difficult and so -unlucrative that slavery has been driven to take subtler forms, against -which gun-boats have hitherto been powerless.</p> - -<p>We may draw another distinction still. Quite different from the -plantation slavery under European control, for the profit of European -capitalists,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> is the domestic slavery that has always been practised -among the natives themselves. Legally, this form of slavery was -abolished in Nigeria by a proclamation of 1901, but it still exists -in spite of the law, and is likely to exist for many years, even in -British possessions. It is commonly spoken of as domestic slavery, but -perhaps tribal slavery would be the better word. Or the slave might be -compared to the serf of feudal times. He is nominally the property of -the chief, and may be compelled to give rather more than half his days -to work for the tribe. Even under the Nigerian enactment, he cannot -leave his district without the chief’s consent, and he must continue to -contribute something to the support of the family. But in most cases a -slave may purchase his freedom if he wishes, and it frequently happens -that a slave becomes a chief himself and holds slaves on his own -account.</p> - -<p>It is one of those instances in which law is ahead of public custom. -Most of the existing domestic slaves do not wish for further freedom, -for if their bond to the chief were destroyed, they would lose the -protection of the tribe. They would be friendless and outcast, with -no home, no claim, and no appeal. “Soon be head off,” said a native, -in trying to explain the dangers of sudden freedom. At Calabar I came -across a peculiar instance. Some Scottish missionaries had carefully -trained up a native youth to work with them at a mission. They<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> had -taught him the height of Chimborazo, the cost of papering a room, -leaving out the fireplace, and the other things which we call education -because we can teach nothing else. They had even taught him the -intricacies of Scottish theology. But just as he was ready primed for -the ministry, an old native stepped in and said: “No; he is my slave. -I beg to thank you for educating him so admirably. But he seems to me -better suited for the government service than for the cure of souls. So -he shall enter a government office and comfort my declining years with -half his income.”</p> - -<p>The elderly native had himself been educated by the mission, and that -added a certain irony to his claim. When I told the acting governor -of the case, he thought such a thing could not happen in these days, -because the youth could have appealed to the district commissioner, -and the old man’s claim would have been disallowed at law. That may -be so; and yet I have not the least doubt that the account I received -was true. Law was in advance of custom, that was all, and the people -followed custom, as people always do.</p> - -<p>Even where there is no question of slave-ownership, the power of the -chiefs is often despotic. If a chief covets a particularly nice canoe, -he can purchase it by compelling his wives and children to work for -the owner during so many days. Or take the familiar instance of the -“Krooboys.” The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> Kroo coast is nominally part of Liberia, but as the -Liberian government is only a fit subject for comic opera, the Kroo -people remain about the freest and happiest in Africa. Their industry -is to work the cargo of steamers that go down the Coast. They get a -shilling a day and “chop,” and the only condition they make is to -return to “we country” within a year at furthest. Before the steamer -stops off the Coast and sounds her hooter the sea is covered with -canoes. The captain sends word to the chief of the nearest village -that he wants, say, fifty “boys.” After two or three hours of excited -palaver on shore, the chief selects fifty boys, and they are sent on -board under a headman. When they return, they give the chief a share of -their earnings as a tribute for his care of the tribe and village in -their absence. This is a kind of feudalism, but it has nothing to do -with slavery, especially as there is a keen competition among the boys -to serve. When a woman who has been hired as a white man’s concubine -is compelled to surrender her earnings to the chief, we may call it -a survival of tribal slavery, or of the patriarchal system, if you -will. But when, as happens, for instance, in Mozambique, the agents -of capitalists bribe the chiefs to force laborers to the Transvaal -mines, whether they wish to go or not, we may disguise the truth as -we like under talk about “the dignity of labor” and “the <span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>value of -discipline,” but, as a matter of fact, we are on the downward slope -to the new slavery. It is easy to see how one system may become merged -into the other without any very obvious breach of native custom. But, -nevertheless, the distinction is profound. As <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Morel has said in -his admirable book on <i>The Affairs of West Africa</i>, between the -domestic servitude of Nigeria and plantation slavery under European -supervision there is all the difference in the world. The object of the -present series of sketches is to show, by one particular instance, the -method under which this plantation slavery is now being carried on, and -the lengths to which it is likely to develop.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img004"> - <img src="images/004.jpg" class="w50" alt="THE KROOBOYS WORKING A SHIP ALONG THE COAST" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">THE “KROOBOYS” WORKING A SHIP ALONG THE COAST</p> - -<p class="p2">“In the region of the Unknown, Africa is the Absolute.” It was one of -Victor Hugo’s prophetic sayings a few years before his death, when he -was pointing out to France her road of empire. And in a certain sense -the saying is still true. In spite of all the explorations, huntings, -killings, and gospels, Africa remains the unknown land, and the nations -of Europe have hardly touched the edge of its secrets. We still think -of “black people” in lumps and blocks. We do not realize that each -African has a personality as important to himself as each of us is in -his own eyes. We do not even know why the mothers in some tribes paint -their babies on certain days with stripes of red and black, or why an -African thinks more of his mother than we think of lovers. If we ask -for the hidden meaning<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> of a Ju-ju, or of some slow and hypnotizing -dance, the native’s eyes are at once covered with a film like a seal’s, -and he gazes at us in silence. We know nothing of the ritual of scars -or the significance of initiation. We profess to believe that external -nature is symbolic and that the universe is full of spiritual force; -but we cannot enter for a moment into the African mind, which really -believes in the spiritual side of nature. We talk a good deal about our -sense of humor, but more than any other races we despise the Africans, -who alone out of all the world possess the same power of laughter as -ourselves.</p> - -<p>In the higher and spiritual sense, Victor Hugo’s saying remains -true—“In the region of the Unknown, Africa is the Absolute.” But now -for the first time in history the great continent lies open to Europe. -Now for the first time men of science have traversed it from end to -end and from side to side. And now for the first time the whole of it, -except Abyssinia, is partitioned among the great white nations of the -world. Within fifty years the greatest change in all African history -has come. The white races possess the Dark Continent for their own, and -what they are going to do with it is now one of the greatest problems -before mankind. It is a small but very significant section of this -problem which I shall hope to illustrate in my investigations.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="II">II<br /> -<span class="small">PLANTATION SLAVERY ON THE MAINLAND</span></h2></div> - - - -<p>Loanda is much disquieted in mind. The town is really called St. Paul -de Loanda, but it has dropped its Christian name, just as kings drop -their surnames. Between Moorish Tangiers and Dutch Cape Town, it is -the only place that looks like a town at all. It has about it what -so few African places have—the feeling of history. We are aware of -the centuries that lie behind its present form, and we feel in its -ruinous quays the record of early Portuguese explorers and of the Dutch -settlers.</p> - -<p>In the mouldering little church of Our Lady of Salvation, beside the -beach where native women wash, there exists the only work of art which -this side of Africa can show. The church bears the date of 1664, but -the work of art was perhaps ordered a few years before that, while the -Dutch were holding the town, for it consists of a series of pictures in -blue-and-white Dutch tiles, evidently representing scenes in Loanda’s -history. In some cases the tiles have fallen down, and been stuck on -again by natives in the same kind of chaos in which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> natives would -rearrange the stars. But in one picture a gallant old ship is seen -laboring in a tempest; in another a gallant young horseman in pursuit -of a stag is leaping over a cliff into the sea; and in the third a -thin square of Christian soldiers, in broad-brimmed hats, braided -tail-coats, and silk stockings, is being attacked on every side by a -black and unclad host of savages with bows and arrows. The Christians -are ranged round two little cottages which must signify the fort of -Loanda at the time. Two little cannons belch smoke and lay many black -figures low. The soldiers are firing their muskets into the air, no -doubt in the hope that the height of the trajectory will bring the -bullets down in the neighborhood of the foe, though the opposing forces -are hardly twenty yards apart. The natives in one place have caught -hold of a priest and are about to exalt him to martyrdom, but I think -none of the Christian soldiers have fallen. In defiance of the cannibal -king, who bears a big sword and is twice the size of his followers, -the Christian general grasps his standard in the middle of the square, -and, as in the shipwreck and the hunting scene, Our Lady of Salvation -watches serenely from the clouds, conscious of her power to save.</p> - -<p>Unhappily there is no inscription, and we can only say that the scene -represents some hard-won battle of long ago—some crisis in the -miserable conflict of black and white. Since the days of those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> two -cottages and a flag, Loanda has grown into a city that would hardly -look out of place upon the Mediterranean shore. It has something now -of the Mediterranean air, both in its beauty and its decay. In front -of its low red and yellow cliffs a long spit of sand-bank forms a calm -lagoon, at the entrance of which the biggest war-ships can lie. The -sandy rock projecting into the lagoon is crowned by a Vauban fortress -whose bastions and counter-scarps would have filled Uncle Toby’s heart -with joy. They now defend the exiled prisoners from Portugal, but -from the ancient embrasures a few old guns, some rusty, some polished -with blacking, still puff their salutes to foreign men-of-war, or to -new governors on their arrival. In blank-cartridge the Portuguese War -Department shows no economy. If only ball-cartridge were as cheap, the -mind of Loanda would be less disquieted.</p> - -<p>There is an upper and a lower town. From the fortress the cliff, -though it crumbles down in the centre, swings round in a wide arc -to the cemetery, and on the cliff are built the governor’s palace, -the bishop’s palace, a few ruined churches that once belonged to -monastic orders, and the fine big hospital, an expensive present from -a Portuguese queen. Over the flat space between the cliff and the -lagoon the lower town has grown up, with a cathedral, custom-house, -barracks, stores, and two restaurants. The natives live scattered about -in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> houses and huts, but they have chiefly spread at random over the -flat, high ground behind the cliff. As in a Turkish town, there is much -ruin and plenty of space. Over wide intervals of ground you will find -nothing but a broken wall and a century of rubbish. Many enterprises -may be seen growing cold in death. There are gardens which were meant -to be botanical. There is an observatory which may be scientific still, -for the wind-gage spins. There is an immense cycle track which has -delighted no cyclist, unless, indeed, the contractor cycles. There are -bits of pavement that end both ways in sand. There is a ruin that was -intended for a hotel. There is a public band which has played the same -tunes in the same order three times a week since the childhood of the -oldest white inhabitant. There is a technical school where no pupil -ever went. There is a vast municipal building which has never received -its windows, and whose tower serves as a monument to the last sixpence. -There are oil-lamps which were made for gas, and there is one drain, -fit to poison the multitudinous sea.</p> - -<p>So the city lies, bankrupt and beautiful. She is beautiful because she -is old, and because she built her roofs with tiles, before corrugated -iron came to curse the world. And she is bankrupt for various reasons, -which, as I said, are now disquieting her mind. First there is the war. -Only last autumn a Portuguese expedition against a native tribe was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -cut to pieces down in the southern Mossamedes district, not far from -the German frontier, where also a war is creeping along. No Lady of -Salvation now helped the thin Christian square, and some three hundred -whites and blacks were left there dead. So things stand. Victorious -natives can hardly be allowed to triumph in victory over whites, but -how can a bankrupt province carry on war? A new governor has arrived, -and, as I write, everything is in doubt, except the lack of money. How -are safety, honor, and the value of the milreis note to be equally -maintained?</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img005"> - <img src="images/005.jpg" class="w50" alt="NATIVES IN CHARACTERISTIC DRESS" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">NATIVES IN CHARACTERISTIC DRESS</p> - -<p class="p2">But there is an uneasy consciousness that the lack of money, the war -itself, and other distresses are all connected with a much deeper -question that keeps on reappearing in different forms. It is the -question of “contract labor.” Cheap labor of some sort is essential, -if the old colony is to be preserved. There was a time when there was -plenty of labor and to spare—so much to spare that it was exported in -profitable ship-loads to Havana and Brazil, while the bishop sat on the -wharf and christened the slaves in batches. But, as I have said, that -source of income was cut off by British gun-boats some fifty years ago, -and is lost, perhaps forever. And in the mean time the home supply of -labor has been lamentably diminished; for the native population, the -natural cultivators of the country, have actually decreased in number, -and other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> causes have contributed to raise their price above the limit -of “economic value.”</p> - -<p>Their numbers have decreased, because the whole country, always exposed -to small-pox, has been suffering more and more from the diseases which -alcoholism brings or leaves, and, like most of tropical Africa, it has -been devastated within the last twenty or thirty years by this new -plague to humanity, called “the sleeping-sickness.” Men of science are -undecided still as to the cause. They are now inclined to connect it -with the tsetse-fly, long known in parts of Africa as the destroyer -of all domesticated animals, but hitherto supposed to be harmless -to man, whether domesticated or wild. No one yet knows, and we can -only describe its course from the observed cases. It begins with an -unwillingness to work, an intense desire to sit down and do nothing, so -that the lowest and most laborious native becomes quite aristocratic -in his habits. The head then keeps nodding forward, and intervals of -profound sleep supervene. Control over the expression of emotion is -lost, so that the patient laughs or cries without cause. This has been -a very marked symptom among the children I have seen. In some the -great tears kept pouring down; others could not stop laughing. The -muscles twitch of themselves, and the glands at the back of the neck -swell up. Then the appetite fails, and in the cases I have seen there -is extreme wasting,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> as from famine. Sometimes, however, the body -swells all over, and the natives call this kind “the Baobab,” from -the name of the enormous and disproportioned tree which abounds here, -and always looks as if it suffered from elephantiasis, like so many -of the natives themselves. Often there is an intense desire to smoke, -but when the pipe is lit the patient drops it with indifference. Then -come fits of bitter cold, and during these fits patients have been -known to fall into the fire and allow themselves to be burned to death. -Towards the end, violent trembling comes on, followed by delirium and -an unconsciousness which may continue for about the final fortnight. -The disease lasts from six to eight months; sometimes a patient lives -a year. But hitherto there has been no authenticated instance of -recovery. Of all diseases, it is perhaps the only one which up to now -counts its dead by cent per cent. It attacks all ages between five -years and forty, and even those limits are not quite fixed. It so -happens that most of the cases I have yet seen in the country have been -children, but that may be accidental. For a long time it was thought -that white people were exempt. But that is not so. They are apparently -as liable to the sickness as the natives, and there are white patients -suffering from it now in the Loanda hospital.</p> - -<p>My reason for now dwelling upon the disease which has added a new -terror to Africa is its effect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> upon the labor-supply. It is very -capricious in its visitation. Sometimes it will cling to one side of -a river and leave the other untouched. But when it appears it often -sweeps the population off the face of the earth, and there are places -in Angola which lately were large native towns, but are now going -back to desert. So people are more than ever wanted to continue the -cultivation of such land as has been cultivated, and, unhappily, it -is now more than ever essential that the people should be cheap. The -great days when fortunes were made in coffee, or when it was thought -that cocoa would save the country, are over. Prices have sunk. Brazil -has driven out Angola coffee. San Thomé has driven out the cocoa. The -Congo is driving out the rubber, and the sugar-cane is grown only for -the rum that natives drink—not a profitable industry from the point -of view of national economics. Many of the old plantations have come -to grief. Some have been amalgamated into companies with borrowed -capital. Some have been sold for a song. None is prosperous; but -people still think that if only “contract labor” were cheaper and more -plentiful, prosperity would return. As it is, they see all the best -labor draughted off to the rich island of San Thomé, never to return, -and that is another reason why the mind of Loanda is much disquieted.</p> - -<p>I do not mean that the anxiety about the “contract labor” is entirely -a question of cash. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> Portuguese are quite as sensitive and kindly -as other people. Many do not like to think that the “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>” -or “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">contrahidos</span>,” as they are called, are, in fact, hardly to be -distinguished from the slaves of the cruel old times. Still more do -not like to hear the most favored province of the Portuguese Empire -described by foreigners as a slave state. There is a strong feeling -about it in Portugal also, I believe, and here in Angola it is the -chief subject of conversation and politics. The new governor is thought -to be an “antislavery” man. A little newspaper appears occasionally -in Loanda (<i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">A Defeza de Angola</i>) in which the shame of the whole -system is exposed, at all events with courage. The paper is not popular -with the official or governing classes. No courageous newspaper ever -can be; for the official person is born with a hatred of reform, -because reform means trouble. But the paper is read none the less. -There is a feeling about the question which I can only describe again -as disquiet. It is partly conscience, partly national reputation; -partly also it is the knowledge that under the present system San Thomé -gets all the advantage, and the mainland is being drained of laborers -in order that the island’s cocoa may abound.</p> - -<p>Legally the system is quite simple and looks innocent enough. Legally -it is laid down that a native and a would-be employer come before a -magistrate or other representative of the Curator-General<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> of Angola, -and enter into a free and voluntary contract for so much work in return -for so much pay. By the wording of the contract the native declares -that “he has come of his own free will to contract for his services -under the terms and according to the forms required by the law of April -29, 1875, the general regulation of November 21, 1878, and the special -clauses relating to this province.”</p> - -<p>The form of contract continues:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1. The laborer contracts and undertakes to render all such [domestic, -agricultural, etc.] services as his employer may require.</p> - -<p>2. He binds himself to work nine hours on all days that are not -sanctified by religion, with an interval of two hours for rest, and -not to leave the service of the employer without permission, except in -order to complain to the authorities.</p> - -<p>3. This contract to remain in force for five complete years.</p> - -<p>4. The employer binds himself to pay the monthly wages of ——, with -food and clothing.</p> -</div> - -<p>Then follow the magistrate’s approval of the contract, and the -customary conclusion about “signed, sealed, and delivered in the -presence of the following witnesses.” The law further lays it down that -the contract may be renewed by the wish of both parties at the end of -five years, that the magistrates should visit the various districts and -see that the contracts are properly observed and renewed, and that all -children born to the laborers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> whether man or woman, during the time -of his or her contract shall be absolutely free.</p> - -<p>Legally, could any agreement look fairer and more innocent? Or could -any government have better protected a subject population in the -transition from recognized slavery to free labor? Even apart from the -splendor of legal language, laws often seem divine. But let us see how -the whole thing works out in human life.</p> - -<p>An agent, whom for the sake of politeness we may call a labor merchant, -goes wandering about among the natives in the interior—say seven or -eight hundred miles from the coast. He comes to the chief of a tribe, -or, I believe, more often, to a little group of chiefs, and, in return -for so many grown men and women, he offers the chiefs so many smuggled -rifles, guns, and cartridges, so many bales of calico, so many barrels -of rum. The chiefs select suitable men and women, very often one of -the tribe gives in his child to pay off an old debt, the bargain is -concluded, and off the party goes. The labor merchant leads it away -for some hundreds of miles, and then offers its members to employers -as contracted laborers. As commission for his own services in the -transaction, he may receive about fifteen or twenty pounds for a man -or a woman, and about five pounds for a child. According to law, the -laborer is then brought before a magistrate and duly signs the above -contract<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> with his or her new master. He signs, and the benevolent law -is satisfied. But what does the native know or care about “freedom -of contract” or “the general regulation of November 21, 1878”? What -does he know about nine hours a day and two hours rest and the days -sanctified by religion? Or what does it mean to him to be told that the -contract terminates at the end of five years? He only knows that he has -fallen into the hands of his enemies, that he is being given over into -slavery to the white man, that if he runs away he will be beaten, and -even if he could escape to his home, all those hundreds of miles across -the mountains, he would probably be killed, and almost certainly be -sold again. In what sense does such a man enter into a free contract -for his labor? In what sense, except according to law, does his -position differ from a slave’s? And the law does not count; it is only -life that counts.</p> - -<p>I do not wish at present to dwell further upon this original stage in -the process of the new slave-trade, for I have not myself yet seen it -at work. I only take my account from men who have lived long in the -interior and whose word I can trust. I may be able to describe it more -fully when I have been farther into the interior myself. But now I will -pass to a stage in the system which I have seen with my own eyes—the -plantation stage, in which the contract system is found in full working -order.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> - -<p>For about a hundred miles inland from Loanda, the country is flattish -and bare and dry, though there are occasional rivers and a sprinkling -of trees. A coarse grass feeds a few cattle, but the chief product -is the cassava, from which the natives knead a white food, something -between rice and flour. As you go farther, the land grows like the “low -veldt” in the Transvaal, and it has the same peculiar and unwholesome -smell. By degrees it becomes more mountainous and the forest grows -thick, so that the little railway seems to struggle with the -undergrowth almost as much as with the inclines. That little railway -is perhaps the only evidence of “progress” in the province after three -or four centuries. It is paid for by Lisbon, but a train really does -make the journey of about two hundred and fifty miles regularly in two -days, resting the engine for the night. To reach a plantation you must -get out on the route and make your way through the forest by one of -those hardly perceptible “bush paths” which are the only roads. Along -these paths, through flag-grasses ten feet high, through jungle that -closes on both sides like two walls, up mountains covered with forest, -and down valleys where the water is deep at this wet season, every bit -of merchandise, stores, or luggage must be carried on the heads of -natives, and every yard of the journey has to be covered on foot.</p> - -<p>After struggling through the depths of the woods<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> in this way for three -or four hours, we climbed a higher ridge of mountain and emerged from -the dense growth to open summits of rock and grass. Far away to the -southeast a still higher mountain range was visible, and I remembered, -with what writers call a momentary thrill, that from this quarter of -the compass Livingstone himself had made his way through to Loanda on -one of his greatest journeys. Below the mountain edge on which I stood -lay the broad valley of the plantation, surrounded by other hills -and depths of forest. The low white casa, with its great barns and -outhouses, stood in the middle. Close by its side were the thatched -mud huts of the work-people, the doors barred, the little streets all -empty and silent, because the people were all at work, and the children -that were too small to work and too big to be carried were herded -together in another part of the yards. From the house, in almost every -direction, the valleys of cultivated ground stretched out like fingers, -their length depending on the shape of the ground and on the amount of -water which could be turned over them by ditch-canals.</p> - -<p>It was a plantation on which everything that will grow in this part -of Africa was being tried at once. There were rows of coffee, rows of -cocoa-plant, woods of bananas, fields of maize, groves of sugar-cane -for rum. On each side of the paths mango-trees stood in avenues, or the -tree which the parlors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> of Camden Town know as the India-rubber plant, -though in fact it is no longer the chief source of African rubber. A -few other plants and fruits were cultivated as well, but these were the -main produce.</p> - -<p>The cultivation was admirable. Any one who knows the fertile parts -of Africa will agree that the great difficulty is not to make things -grow, but to prevent other things from growing. The abundant growth -chokes everything down. An African forest is one gigantic struggle for -existence, and an African field becomes forest as soon as you take your -eyes off it. But on the plantation the ground was kept clear and clean. -The first glance told of the continuous and persistent labor that -must be used. And as I was thinking of this and admiring the result, -suddenly I came upon this continuous and persistent labor in the flesh.</p> - -<p>It was a long line of men and women, extended at intervals of about a -yard, like a company of infantry going into action. They were clearing -a coffee-plantation. Bent double over the work, they advanced slowly -across the ground, hoeing it up as they went. To the back of nearly -every woman clung an infant, bound on by a breadth of cotton cloth, -after the African fashion, while its legs straddled round the mother’s -loins. Its head lay between her shoulders, and bumped helplessly -against her back as she struck the hoe into the ground.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> Most of the -infants were howling with discomfort and exhaustion, but there was no -pause in the work. The line advanced persistently and in silence. The -only interruption was when a loin-cloth had to be tightened up, or when -one of the little girls who spend the day in fetching water passed -along the line with her pitcher. When the people had drunk, they turned -to the work again, and the only sound to be heard was the deep grunt or -sigh as the hoe was brought heavily down into the mass of tangled grass -and undergrowth between the rows of the coffee-plants.</p> - -<p>Five or six yards behind the slowly advancing line, like the officers -of a company under fire, stood the overseers, or gangers, or drivers of -the party. They were white men, or three parts white, and were dressed -in the traditional planter style of big hat, white shirt, and loose -trousers. Each carried an eight-foot stick of hard wood, whitewood, -pointed at the ends, and the look of those sticks quite explained the -thoroughness and persistency of the work, as well as the silence, so -unusual among the natives whether at work or play.</p> - -<p>At six o’clock a big bell rang from the casa, and all stopped working -instantly. They gathered up their hoes and matchets (large, heavy -knives), put them into their baskets, balanced the baskets on their -heads, and walked silently back to their little gathering of mud -huts. The women unbarred the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> doors, put the tools away, kindled -the bits of firewood they had gathered on the path from work, and -made the family meal. Most of them had to go first to a large room in -the casa where provisions are issued. Here two of the gangers preside -over the two kinds of food which the plantation provides—flour and -dried fish (a great speciality of Angola, known to British sailors as -“stinkfish”). Each woman goes up in turn and presents a zinc disk to -a ganger. The disk has a hole through it so that it may be carried on -a string, and it is stamped with the words “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">Fazenda de Paciencia 30 -Reis,</span>” let us say, or “Paciencia Plantation 1½<abbr title="pence"><i>d.</i></abbr>” The number of -reis varies a little. It is sometimes forty-five, sometimes higher. In -return for her disks, the woman receives so much flour by weight, or -a slab of stinkfish, as the case may be. She puts them in her basket -and goes back to cook. The man, meantime, has very likely gone to the -shop next door and has exchanged his disk for a small glass of the -white sugar-cane rum, which, besides women and occasional tobacco, is -his only pleasure. But the shop, which is owned by the plantation and -worked by one of the overseers, can supply cotton cloth, a few tinned -meats, and other things if desired, also in exchange for the disks.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img006"> - <img src="images/006.jpg" class="w75" alt="PLANTER’S HOUSE ON AN ANGOLA ESTATE" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">PLANTER’S HOUSE ON AN ANGOLA ESTATE</p> - -<p class="p2">The casa and the mud huts are soon asleep. At half-past four the big -bell clangs again. At five it clangs again. Men and women hurry out -and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> range themselves in line before the casa, coughing horribly and -shivering in the morning air. The head overseer calls the roll. They -answer their queer names. The women tie their babies on to their -backs again. They balance the hoe and matchet in the basket on their -heads, and pad away in silence to the spot where the work was left off -yesterday. At eleven the bell clangs again, and they come back to feed. -At twelve it clangs again, and they go back to work. So day follows day -without a break, except that on Sundays (“days sanctified by religion”) -the people are allowed, in some plantations, to work little plots of -ground which are nominally their own.</p> - -<p>“No change, no pause, no hope.” That is the sum of plantation life. So -the man or woman known as a “contract laborer” toils, till gradually or -suddenly death comes, and the poor, worn-out body is put to rot. Out in -the forest you come upon the little heap of red earth under which it -lies. On the top of the heap is set the conical basket of woven grasses -which was the symbol of its toil in life, and now forms its only -monument. For a fortnight after death the comrades of the dead think -that the spirit hovers uneasily about the familiar huts. They dance and -drink rum to cheer themselves and it. When the fortnight is over, the -spirit is dissolved into air, and all is just as though the slave had -never been.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p> - -<p>There is no need to be hypocritical or sentimental about it. The fate -of the slave differs little from the fate of common humanity. Few men -or women have opportunity for more than working, feeding, getting -children, and death. If any one were to maintain that the plantation -life is not in reality worse than the working-people’s life in most -of our manufacturing towns, or in such districts as the Potteries, -the Black Country, and the Isle of Dogs, he would have much to say. -The same argument was the only one that counted in defence of the old -slavery in the West Indies and the Southern States, and it will have -to be seriously met again now that slavery is reappearing under other -names. A man who has been bought for money is at least of value to -his master. In return for work he gets his mud hut, his flour, his -stinkfish, and his rum. The driver with his eight-foot stick is not so -hideous a figure as the British overseer with his system of blackmail; -and as for cultivation of the intellect and care of the soul, the less -we talk about such things the better.</p> - -<p>In this account I only mean to show that the difference between the -“contract labor” of Angola, and the old-fashioned slavery of our -grandfathers’ time is only a difference of legal terms. In life there -is no difference at all. The men and women whom I have described as -I saw them have all been bought from their enemies, their chiefs, or -their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span> parents; they have either been bought themselves or were the -children of people who had been bought. The legal contract, if it -had been made at all, had not been observed, either in its terms or -its renewal. The so-called pay by the plantation tokens is not pay -at all, but a form of the “truck” system at its very worst. So far -from the children being free, they now form the chief labor supply -of the plantation, for the demand for “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>” in San Thomé has -raised the price so high that the Angola plantations could not carry -on at all without the little swarms of children that are continually -growing up on the estates. Sometimes, as I have heard, two or three -of the men escape, and hide in the crowd at Loanda or set up a little -village far away in the forest. But the risk is great; they have no -money and no friends. I have not heard of a runaway laborer being -prosecuted for breach of contract. As a matter of fact, the fiction of -the contract is hardly even considered. But when a large plantation -was sold the other day, do you suppose the contract of each laborer -was carefully examined, and the length of his future service taken -into consideration? Not a bit of it. The laborers went in block with -the estate. Men, women, and children, they were handed over to the new -owners, and became their property just like the houses and trees.</p> - -<p>Portuguese planters are not a bit worse than other men, but their -position is perilous. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> owner or agent lives in the big house with -three or four white or whitey-brown overseers. They are remote from all -equal society, and they live entirely free from any control or public -opinion that they care about. Under their absolute and unquestioned -power are men and women, boys and girls—let us say two hundred in all. -We may even grant, if we will, that the Portuguese planters are far -above the average of men. Still I say that if they were all Archbishops -of Canterbury, it would not be safe for them to be intrusted with such -powers as these over the bodies and souls of men and women.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="III">III<br /> -<span class="small">DOMESTIC SLAVERY ON THE MAINLAND</span></h2> -</div> - - - - -<p>Some two hundred miles south of St. Paul de Loanda, you come to a deep -and quiet inlet, called Lobito Bay. Hitherto it has been desert and -unknown—a spit of waterless sand shutting in a basin of the sea at the -foot of barren and waterless hills. But in twenty years’ time Lobito -Bay may have become famous as the central port of the whole west coast -of Africa, and the starting-place for traffic with the interior. For -it is the base of the railway scheme known as the “Robert Williams -Concession,” which is intended to reach the ancient copper-mines of the -Katanga district in the extreme south of the Congo State, and so to -unite with the “Tanganyika Concession.” It would thus connect the west -coast traffic with the great lakes and the east. A branch line might -also turn off at some point along the high and flat watershed between -the Congo and Zambesi basins, and join the Cape Town railway near -Victoria Falls. Possibly before the Johannesburg gold is exhausted, -passengers from London to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> the Transvaal will address their luggage -“viâ Lobito Bay.”</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img007"> - <img src="images/007.jpg" class="w75" alt="FIRST MAIL-STEAMER AT LOBITO BAY" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">FIRST MAIL-STEAMER AT LOBITO BAY</p> - -<p class="p2">But this is only prophecy. What is certain is that on January 5, -1905, a mail-steamer was for the first time warped alongside a little -landing-stage of lighters, in thirty-five feet of water, and I may go -down to fame as the first man to land at the future port. What I found -were a few laborers’ huts, a tent, a pile of sleepers, a tiny engine -puffing over a mile or two of sand, and a large Portuguese custom-house -with an eye to possibilities. I also found an indomitable English -engineer, engaged in doing all the work with his own hands, to the -entire satisfaction of the native laborers, who encouraged him with -smiles.</p> - -<p>At present the railway, which is to transform the conditions of Central -Africa, runs as a little tram-line for about eight miles along the -sand to Katumbella. There it has something to show in the shape of a -great iron bridge, which crosses the river with a single span. The day -I was there the engineers were terrifying the crocodiles by knocking -away the wooden piles used in the construction, and both natives -and Portuguese were awaiting the collapse of the bridge with the -pleasurable excitement of people who await a catastrophe that does not -concern themselves. But; to the general disappointment, the last prop -was knocked away and the bridge still stood. It was amazing. It was -contrary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> to the traditions of Africa and of Portugal.</p> - -<p>Katumbella itself is an old town, with two old forts, a dozen -trading-houses, and a river of singular beauty, winding down between -mountains. It is important because it stands on the coast at the end -of the carriers’ foot-path, which has been for centuries the principal -trade route between the west and the interior. One sees that path -running in white lines far over the hills behind the town, and up and -down it black figures are continually passing with loads upon their -heads. They bring rubber, beeswax, and a few other products of lands -far away. They take back enamelled ware, rum, salt, and the bales of -cotton cloth from Portugal and Manchester which, together with rum, -form the real coinage and standard of value in Central Africa, salt -being used as the small change. The path ends, vulgarly enough, at an -oil-lamp in the chief street of Katumbella. Yet it is touched by the -tragedy of human suffering. For this is the end of that great slave -route which Livingstone had to cross on his first great journey, -but otherwise so carefully avoided. This is the path down which the -caravans of slaves from the basin of the Upper Congo have been brought -for generations, and down this path within the last three or four years -the slaves were openly driven to the coast, shackled, tied together, -and beaten along with whips, the trader considering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> himself fairly -fortunate if out of his drove of human beings he brought half alive to -the market. There is a notorious case in which a Portuguese trader, -who still follows his calling unchecked, lost six hundred out of nine -hundred on the way down. At Katumbella the slaves were rested, sorted -out, dressed, and then taken on over the fifteen miles to Benguela, -usually disguised as ordinary carriers. The traffic still goes on, -almost unchecked. But of that ancient route from Bihé to the coast I -shall write later on, for by this path I hope to come when I emerge -from the interior and catch sight of the sea again between the hills.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img008"> - <img src="images/008.jpg" class="w75" alt="END OF THE GREAT SLAVE ROUTE AT KATUMBELLA" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">END OF THE GREAT SLAVE ROUTE AT KATUMBELLA</p> - -<p class="p2">As to the town of Benguela, there is something South African about it. -Perhaps it comes from the eucalyptus-trees, the broad and sandy roads -ending in scrubby waste, and the presence of Boer transport-riders -with their ox-wagons from southern Angola. But the place is, in fact, -peculiarly Portuguese. Next to Loanda, it is the most important town -in the colony, and for years it was celebrated as the very centre -of the slave-trade with Brazil. In the old days when Great Britain -was the enthusiastic opponent of slavery in every form, some of her -men-of-war were generally hanging about off Benguela on the watch. -They succeeded in making the trade difficult and unlucrative; but -we have all become tamer now and more ready to show consideration -for human failings, provided they pay. Call slaves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> by another name, -legalize their position by a few printed papers, and the traffic -becomes a commercial enterprise deserving of every encouragement. A -few years ago, while gangs were still being whipped down to the coast -in chains, one of the most famous of living African explorers informed -the captain of a British gun-boat what was the true state of things -upon a Portuguese steamer bound for San Thomé. The captain, full of -old-fashioned indignation, proposed to seize the ship. Whereupon the -British authorities, flustered at the notion of such impoliteness, -reminded him that we were now living in a civilized age. These men and -women, who had been driven like cattle over some eight hundred miles of -road to Benguela were not to be called slaves. They were “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>,” -and had signed a contract for so many years, saying they went to San -Thomé of their own free will. It was the free will of sheep going to -the butcher’s. Every one knew that. But the decencies of law and order -must be observed.</p> - -<p>Within the last two or three years the decencies of law and order have -been observed in Benguela with increasing care. There are many reasons -for the change. Possibly the polite representations of the British -Foreign Office may have had some effect; for England, besides being -Portugal’s “old ally,” is one of the best customers for San Thomé -cocoa, and it might upset commercial relations if the cocoa-drinkers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> -of England realized that they were enjoying their luxury, or exercising -their virtue, at the price of slave labor. Something may also be due to -the presence of the English engineers and mining prospectors connected -with the Robert Williams Concession. But I attribute the change chiefly -to the helpless little rising of the natives, known as the “Bailundu -war” of 1902. Bailundu is a district on the route between Benguela and -Bihé, and the rising, though attributed to many absurd causes by the -Portuguese—especially to the political intrigues of the half-dozen -American missionaries in the district—was undoubtedly due to the -injustice, violence, and lust of certain traders and administrators. -The rising itself was an absolute failure. Terrified as the Portuguese -were, the natives, were more terrified still. I have seen a place where -over four hundred native men, women, and children were massacred in -the rocks and holes where their bones still lie, while the Portuguese -lost only three men. But the disturbance may have served to draw -the attention of Portugal to the native grievances. At any rate, it -was about the same time that two of the officers at an important -fort were condemned to long terms of imprisonment and exile for open -slave-dealing, and Captain Amorim, a Portuguese gunner, was sent out as -a kind of special commissioner to make inquiries. He showed real zeal -in putting down the slave-trade, and set a large<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> number of slaves at -liberty with special “letters of freedom,” signed by himself—most of -which have since been torn up by the owners. His stay was, unhappily, -short, but he returned home, honored by the hatred of the Portuguese -traders and officials in the country, who did their best to poison him, -as their custom is. His action and reports were, I think, the chief -cause of Portugal’s “uneasiness.”</p> - -<p>So the horror of the thing has been driven under the surface; and what -is worse, it has been legalized. Whether it is diminished by secrecy -and the forms of law, I shall be able to judge better in a few months’ -time. I found no open slave-market existing in Benguela, such as -reports in Europe would lead one to expect. The spacious court-yards -or compounds round the trading-houses are no longer crowded with gangs -of slaves in shackles, and though they are still used for housing the -slaves before their final export, the whole thing is done quietly, and -without open brutality, which is, after all, unprofitable as well as -inhuman.</p> - -<p>In the main street there is a government office where the official -representative of the “Central Committee of Labor and Emigration for -the Islands” (having its headquarters in Lisbon) sits in state, and -under due forms of law receives the natives, who enter one door as -slaves and go out of another as “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes.</span>” Everything is correct. The -native,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> who has usually been torn from his home far in the interior, -perhaps as much as eight hundred miles away, and already sold twice, -is asked by an interpreter if it is his wish to go to San Thomé, or -to undertake some other form of service to a new master. Of course he -answers, “Yes.” It is quite unnecessary to suppose, as most people -suppose, that the interpreter always asks such questions as, “Do -you like fish?” or, “Will you have a drink?” though one of the best -scholars in the languages of the interior has himself heard those -questions asked at an official inspection of “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>” on board ship. -It would be unnecessary for the interpreter to invent such questions. -If he asked, “Is it your wish to go to hell?” the “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçal</span>” would say -“yes” just the same. In fact, throughout this part of Africa, the name -of San Thomé is becoming identical with hell, and when a man has been -brought hundreds of miles from his home by an unknown road, and through -long tracts of “hungry country”—when also he knows that if he did get -back he would probably be sold again or killed—what else can he answer -but “yes”? Under similar circumstances the Archbishop of Canterbury -would answer the same.</p> - -<p>The <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">“serviçal</span>” says “yes,” and so sanctions the contract for his -labor. The decencies of law and order are respected. The government -of the colony receives its export duty—one of the queerest methods<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -of “protecting home industries” ever invented. All is regular and -legalized. A series of new rules for the <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçal</span>’s comfort and -happiness during his stay in the islands was issued in 1903, though its -stipulations have not been carried out. And off goes the man to his -death in San Thomé or Il Principe as surely as if he had signed his own -death-warrant. To be sure, there are regulations for his return. By -law, three-fifths of his so-called monthly wages are to be set aside -for a “Repatriation Fund,” and in consideration of this he is granted a -“free passage” back to the coast. A more ingenious trick for reducing -the price of labor has never been invented, but, for very shame, the -Repatriation Fund has ceased to exist, if it ever existed. Ask any -honest man who knows the country well. Ask any Scottish engineer upon -the Portuguese steamers that convey the “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>” to the islands, and -he will tell you they never return. The islands are their grave.</p> - -<p>These are things that every one knows, but I will not dwell upon them -yet or even count them as proved, for I have still far to go and -much to see. Leaving the export trade in “contracted labor,” I will -now speak of what I have actually seen and known of slavery on the -mainland under the white people themselves. I have heard the slaves -in Angola estimated at five-sixths of the population by an Englishman -who has held various influential<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> positions in the country for nearly -twenty years. The estimate is only guesswork, for the Portuguese are -not strong in statistics, especially in statistics of slavery. But -including the very large number of natives who, by purchase or birth, -are the family slaves of the village chiefs and other fairly prosperous -natives, we might probably reckon at least half the population as -living under some form of slavery—either in family slavery to natives, -or general slavery to white men, or in plantation slavery (under -which head I include the export trade). I have referred to the family -slavery among the natives. Till lately it has been universal in Africa, -and it still exists in nearly all parts. But though it is constantly -pleaded as their excuse by white slave-owners, it is not so shameful a -thing as the slavery organized by the whites, if only because whites -do at least boast themselves to be a higher race than natives, with -higher standards of life and manners. From what I have seen of African -life, both in the south and west, I am not sure that the boast is -justified, but at all events it is made, and for that reason white men -are precluded from sheltering themselves behind the excuse of native -customs.</p> - -<p>On the same steamer by which I reached Benguela there were five little -native boys, conspicuous in striped jerseys, and running about the ship -like rats. I suppose they were about ten to twelve years old,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> perhaps -less. I do not know where they came from, but it must have been from -some fairly distant part of the interior, for, like all natives who see -stairs for the first time, they went up and down them on their hands -and knees. They were travelling with a Portuguese, and within a week of -landing at Benguela he had sold them all to other white owners. Their -price was fifty milreis apiece (nearly £10). Their owner did rather -well, for the boys were small and thin—hardly bigger than another -native slave boy who was at the same time given away by one Portuguese -friend to another as a New-Year’s present. But all through this part -of the country I have found the price of human beings ranging rather -higher than I expected, and the man who told me the price of the boys -had himself been offered one of them at that figure, and was simply -passing on the offer to myself.</p> - -<p>Perhaps I was led to underestimate prices a little by the statement -of a friend in England that at Benguela one could buy a woman for £8 -and a girl for £12. He had not been to that part of the coast himself, -though for five years he had lived in the Katanga district of the Congo -State, from which large numbers of the slaves are drawn. Perhaps he -had forgotten to take into account the heavy cost of transport from -the interior and the risk of loss by death upon the road. Or perhaps -he reckoned by the exceptionally low prices prevailing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> after the dry -season of 1903, when, owing to a prolonged drought, the famine was -severe in a district near the Kunene in southeast Angola, and some -Portuguese and Boer traders took advantage of the people’s hunger to -purchase oxen and children cheap in exchange for mealies. Similarly, -in 1904, women were being sold unusually cheap in a district by -the Cuanza, owing to a local famine. Livingstone, in his <i>First -Expedition to Africa</i>, said he had never known cases of parents -selling children into slavery, but <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> F. S. Arnot, in his edition of -the book, has shown that such things occur (though as a rule a child -is sold by his maternal uncle), and I have myself heard of several -instances in the last few weeks, both for debt and hunger. Necessity is -the slave-trader’s opportunity, and under such conditions the market -quotations for human beings fall, in accordance with the universal -economics.</p> - -<p>The value of a slave, man or woman, when landed at San Thomé, is about -£30, but, as nearly as I could estimate, the average price of a grown -man in Benguela is £20 (one hundred dollars). At that price the traders -there would be willing to supply a large number. An Englishman whom I -met there had been offered a gang of slaves, consisting of forty men -and women, at the rate of £18 a head. But the slaves were up in Bihé, -and the cost of transport down to the coast goes for something;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> and -perhaps there was “a reduction on taking a quantity.” However, when he -was in Bihé, he had bought two of them from the Portuguese trader at -that rate. They were both men. He had also bought two boys farther in -the interior, but I do not know at what price. One of them had been -with the Batatele cannibals, who form the chief part of the “Révoltés,” -or rebels, against the atrocious government of the Belgians on the -Upper Congo. Perhaps the boy himself really belonged to the race which -had sold him to the Bihéan traders. At all events, the racial mark was -cut in his ears, and the other “boys” in the Englishman’s service were -never tired of chaffing him upon his past habits. Every night they -would ask him how many men he had eaten that day. But a point was added -to the laugh because the ex-cannibal was now acting as cook to the -party. Under their new service all these slaves received their freedom.</p> - -<p>The price of women on the mainland is more variable, for, as in -civilized countries, it depends almost entirely on their beauty and -reputation. Even on the Benguela coast I think plenty of women could be -procured for agricultural, domestic, and other work at £15 a head or -even less. But for the purposes for which women are often bought the -price naturally rises, and it depends upon the ordinary causes which -regulate such traffic. A full-grown<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> and fairly nice-looking woman may -be bought from a trader for £18, but for a mature girl a man must pay -more. At least a stranger who is not connected with the trade has to -pay more. While I was in the town a girl was sold to a prospector, who -wanted her as his concubine during a journey into the interior. Her -owner was an elderly Portuguese official of some standing. I do not -know how he had obtained her, but she was not born in his household -of slaves, for he had only recently come to the country. Most likely -he had bought her as a speculation, or to serve as his concubine if -he felt inclined to take her. The price finally arranged between him -and the prospector for the possession of the girl was one hundred -and twenty-five milreis, which was then nearly equal to £25. For the -visit of the King of Portugal to England and the revival of the “old -alliance” had just raised the value of the Portuguese coinage.</p> - -<p>When the bargain was concluded, the girl was led to her new master’s -room and became his possession. During his journey into the interior -she rode upon his wagon. I saw them often on the way, and was told the -story of the purchase by the prospector himself. He did not complain -of the price, though men who were better acquainted with the uses of -the woman-market considered it unnecessarily high. But it is really -impossible to fix an average standard of value where such things -as beauty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> and desire are concerned. The purchaser was satisfied, -the seller was satisfied. So who was to complain? The girl was not -consulted, nor did the question of her price concern her in the least.</p> - -<p>I was glad to find that the Portuguese official who had parted with -her on these satisfactory terms was no merely selfish speculator in -the human market, as so many traders are, but had considered the -question philosophically, and had come to the conclusion that slavery -was much to a slave’s advantage. The slave, he said, had opportunities -of coming into contact with a higher civilization than his own. He was -much better off than in his native village. His food was regular, his -work was not excessive, and, if he chose, he might become a Christian. -Being an article of value, it was likely that he would be well treated. -“Indeed,” he continued, in an outburst of philanthropic emotion, “both -in our own service and at San Thomé, the slave enjoys a comfort and -well-being which would have been forever beyond his reach if he had not -become a slave!” In many cases, he asserted, the slave owed his very -life to slavery, for some of the slaves brought from the interior were -prisoners of war, and would have been executed but for the profitable -market ready to receive them. As he spoke, the old gentleman’s face -glowed with noble enthusiasm, and I could not but envy him his -connection with an institution that was at the same<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> time so salutary -to mankind and so lucrative to himself.</p> - -<p>As to the slave’s happiness on the islands, I cannot yet describe it, -but according to the reports of residents, ships’ officers, and the -natives themselves, it is brief, however great. What sort of happiness -is enjoyed on the Portuguese plantations of Angola itself I have -already described. As to the comfort and joy of ordinary slavery under -white men, with all its advantages of civilization and religion, the -beneficence of the institution is somewhat dimmed by a few such things -as I have seen, or have heard from men whom I could trust as fully as -my own eyes. At five o’clock one afternoon I saw two slaves carrying -fish through an open square at Benguela, and enjoying their contact -with civilization in the form of another native, who was driving them -along like oxen with a sjambok. The same man who was offered the forty -slaves at £18 a head had in sheer pity bought a little girl from a -Portuguese lady last autumn, and he found her back scored all over with -the cut of the <i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">chicote</i>, just like the back of a trek-ox under -training. An Englishman coming down from the interior last African -winter, was roused at night by loud cries in a Portuguese trading-house -at Mashiko. In the morning he found that a slave had been flogged, and -tied to a tree in the cold all night. He was a man who had only lately -lost his liberty, and was undergoing the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> process which the Portuguese -call “taming,” as applied to new slaves who are sullen and show no -pleasure in the advantages of their position. In another case, only a -few weeks ago, an American saw a woman with a full load on her head and -a baby on her back passing the house where he happened to be staying. -A big native, the slave of a Portuguese trader in the neighborhood, -was dragging her along with a rope, and beating her with a whip as -she went. The American brought the woman into the house and kept her -there. Next day the Portuguese owners came in fury with forty of his -slaves, breathing out slaughters, but, as is usual with the Portuguese, -he shrank up when he was faced with courage. The American refused to -give the woman back, and ultimately she was restored to her own distant -village, where she still is.</p> - -<p>I would willingly give the names in the last case and in all others; -but one of the chief difficulties of the whole subject is that it -is impossible to give names without exposing people out here to the -hostility and persecution of the Portuguese authorities and traders. -In most instances, also, not only the people themselves, but all the -natives associated with them, would suffer, and the various kinds of -work in which they are engaged would come to an end. It is the same -fear which keeps the missionaries silent. The Catholic missions are -supported by the state. The other missions exist on sufferance.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> How -can missionaries of either division risk the things they have most -at heart by speaking out upon a dangerous question? They are silent, -though their conscience is uneasy, unless custom puts it to sleep.</p> - -<p>Custom puts us all to sleep. Every one in Angola is so accustomed to -slavery as part of the country’s arrangements that hardly anybody -considers it strange. It is regarded either as a wholesome necessity -or as a necessary evil. When any question arises upon the subject, all -the antiquated arguments in favor of slavery are trotted out again. -We are told that but for slavery the country would remain savage and -undeveloped; that some form of compulsion is needed for the native’s -good; that in reality he enjoys more freedom and comfort as a slave -than in his free village. Let us at once sweep away all the talk -about the native’s good. It is on a level with the cant which said -the British fought the Boers and brought the Chinese to the Transvaal -in order to extend to both races a higher form of religion. The only -motive for slavery is money-making, and the only argument in its favor -is that it pays. That is the root of the matter, and as long as we -stick to that we shall, at least, be saved from humbug.</p> - -<p>As to the excuse that there is a difference between slavery and -“contracted labor,” this is no more than legal cant, just as the -other pleas are philanthropic or religious cant. Except in the eyes -of the law, it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> makes no difference whether a man is a “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçal</span>” or -a slave; it makes no difference whether a written contract exists or -not. I do not know whether the girl I mentioned had signed a contract -expressing her willingness to serve as the prospector’s concubine for -five years, after which she was to be free unless the contract were -renewed. But I do know that whether she signed the contract or not, -her price and position would have been exactly the same, and that -before the five years are up she will in all probability have been -sold two or three times over, at diminishing prices. The “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçal</span>” -system is only a dodge to delude the antislavery people, who were at -one time strong in Great Britain, and have lately shown signs of life -in Portugal. Except in the eyes of a law which is hardly ever enforced, -slavery exists almost unchecked. Slaves work the plantations, slaves -serve the traders, slaves do the housework of families. Ordinary free -wage-earners exist in the towns and among the carriers, but, as a rule, -throughout the country the system of labor is founded on slavery, -and very few of the Portuguese or foreign residents in Angola would -hesitate to admit it.</p> - -<p>From Benguela I determined to strike into a district which has long had -an evil reputation as the base of the slave-trade with the interior—a -little known and almost uninhabited country.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV<br /> -<span class="small">ON ROUTE TO THE SLAVE CENTRE</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p>He who goes to Africa leaves time behind. Next week is the same as -to-morrow, and it is indifferent whether a journey takes a fortnight -or two months. That is why the ox-wagon suits the land so well. Mount -an ox-wagon and you forget all time. Like the to-morrows of life, it -creeps in its petty pace, and soon after its wheels have reached their -extreme velocity of three miles an hour you learn how vain are all -calculations of pace and years. Yet, except in the matter of speed, -which does not count in Africa, the ox-wagon has most of the qualities -of an express-train, besides others of greater value. Its course is at -least equally adventurous, and it affords a variety of sensations and -experiences quite unknown to the ordinary railway passenger.</p> - -<p>Let me take an instance from the recent journey on which I have crossed -some four hundred and fifty or five hundred miles of country in two -months. A good train would have traversed the distance in a winter’s -night, and have left only a tedious blank<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> upon the mind. On a railway -what should I have known of a certain steep descent which we approached -one silent evening after rain? The red surface was just slippery with -the wet. The oxen were going quietly along, when, all of a sudden, they -were startled by the heavy thud of the wheels jolting over a tree stump -on the track. Within a few yards of the brink they set off at a trot, -the long and heavy chain hanging loose between them.</p> - -<p>“Kouta! Kouta ninni!” (“Brake! Hard on!”) shouted the driver, and we -felt the Ovampo boy behind the wagon whirl the screw round till the -hind wheels were locked. But it was too late. We were over the edge -already. Backing and slipping and pulling every way, striking with -their horns, charging one another helplessly from behind, the oxen -swept down the steep. Behind them, like a big gun got loose, came the -wagon, swaying from side to side, leaping over the rocks, plunging into -the holes, at every moment threatening to crush the hinder oxen of the -span. Then it began to slide sideways. It was almost at right angles to -the track. In another second it would turn clean over, with all four -wheels in air, or would dash us into a great tree that stood only a few -yards down.</p> - -<p>“Kouta loula!” (“Loose the brake!”) yelled the driver, but nothing -could stop the sliding now. We clung on and thought of nothing. Men on -the edge of death think of nothing. Suddenly the near hind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> wheel -was thrown against a high ridge of clay. The wagon swung straight, and -we were plunged into a river among the struggling oxen, all huddled -together and entangled in the chain.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img009"> - <img src="images/009.jpg" class="w75" alt="AWKWARD CROSSING" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">AWKWARD CROSSING</p> - -<p class="p2">“That was rather rapid,” I said, as the wagon came to a dead stop in -the mud and we took to the water, but in no language could I translate -the expression of the driver’s emotions.</p> - -<p>Only last wet season the owner of a wagon started down a place like -that with twenty-four fine oxen, and at the bottom he had eight oxen, -and more beef than he could salt.</p> - -<p>Beside another hill lies the fresh grave of a poor young Boer, who was -thrown under his wagon wheels and never out-spanned again. Such are the -interests of an ox-wagon when it takes to speed.</p> - -<p>Or what traveller by train could have enjoyed such experiences as were -mine in crossing the Kukema—a river that forms a boundary of Bihé? -At that point it was hardly more than five feet deep and twenty yards -wide. In a train one would have leaped over it without pause or notice. -But in a wagon the passage gave us a whole long day crammed with varied -labor and learning. Leading the oxen down to the brink at dawn, we -out-spanned and emptied the wagon of all the loads. Then we lifted its -“bed” bodily off the four wheels, and spreading the “sail,” or canvas -hood, under it, we launched it with immense effort into the water as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> -a raft. We anchored it firmly to both banks by the oxen’s “reems” (I -do not know how the Boers spell those strips of hide, the one thing, -except patience, necessary in African travel), and dragging it to -and fro through the water, we got the loads over dry in about four -journeys. Then the oxen were swum across, and tying some of them to the -long chain on the farther side, we drew the wheels and the rest of the -wagon under water into the shallows. Next came the task of taking off -the “sail” in the water and floating the “bed” into its place upon the -beam again—a lifelong lesson in applied hydraulics. When at last the -sun set and white man and black emerged naked, muddy, and exhausted -from the water, while the wagon itself wallowed triumphantly up the -bank, I think all felt they had not lived in vain. Though, to be sure, -it was wet sleeping that night, and the rain came sousing down as if -poured out of one immeasurable slop-pail.</p> - -<p>A railway bridge? What a dull and uninstructive substitute that would -have been!</p> - -<p>Or consider the ox, how full of personality he is compared to the -locomotive! Outwardly he is far from emotional. You cannot coax him as -you coax a horse or a dog. A fairly tame ox will allow you to clap his -hind quarters, but the only real pleasure you can give him is a lick -of salt. For salt even a wild ox will almost submit to be petted. The -smell of the salt-bag is enough to keep the whole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> span sniffing and -lowing round the wagon instead of going to feed, and, especially on -the “sour veldt,” the Sunday treat of salt spread along a rock is a -festival of luxury.</p> - -<p>But unexpressive as oxen are, one soon learns the inner character of -each. There is the wise and willing ox, who will stick to the track -and always push his best. He is put at the head of the span. In the -middle comes the wild ox, who wants to go any way but the right; the -sullen ox, who needs the lash; and the well-behaved representative of -gentility, who will do anything and suffer anything rather than work. -Nearest the wagon, if possible for as many as four spans, you must put -the strong and well-trained oxen, who answer quickly to their names. On -them depends the steering and safety of the wagon. At the sound of his -name each ox is trained to push his side of the yoke forward, and round -trees or corners the wagon follows the curve of safety.</p> - -<p>“Blaawberg! Shellback! Rachop! Blomveldt!” you cry. The oxen on the -left of the four last spans push forward the ends of their yokes, and -edging off to the right, the wagon moves round the segment of an arc. -To drive a wagon is like coxing an eight without a rudder.</p> - -<p>But on a long and hungry trek even the leaders will sometimes turn -aside into the bush for tempting grass, or as a hint that it is time -to stop. In a moment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> there is the wildest confusion. The oxen behind -are dragged among the trees. The chain gets entangled; two oxen pull -on different sides of a standing trunk; yoke-pegs crack; necks are -throttled by the halters; the wagon is dashed against a solid stump, -and trees and stump and all have to be hewn down with the axe before -the span is free again. Sometimes the excited and confused animals drag -at the chain while one ox is being helplessly crushed against a tree. -Often a horn is broken off. I know nothing that suggests greater pain -than the crack of a horn as it is torn from the skull. The ox falls -silently on his knees. Blood streams down his face. The other oxen -go on dragging at the chain. When released from the yoke, he rushes -helplessly over the bush, trying to hide himself. But flinging him on -his side and tying his legs together, the natives bind up the horn, if -it has not actually dropped, with a plaster of a poisonous herb they -call “moolecky,” to keep the blow-flies away. Sometimes it grows on -again. Sometimes it remains loose and flops about. But, as a rule, it -has to be cut off in the end.</p> - -<p>To avoid such things most transport-riders set a boy to walk in front -of the oxen as “toe-leader,” though it is a confession of weakness. -Another difficulty in driving the ox is his peculiar horror of mud -from the moment that he is in-spanned. By nature he loves mud next -best to food and drink.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> He will wallow in mud all a tropical day, -and the more slimy it is, the better he likes it. But put him in the -yoke, and he becomes as cautious of mud as a cat, as dainty of his -feet as a lady crossing Regent Street. It seems strange at first, but -he has his reasons. When he comes to one of those ghastly mud-pits -(“slaughter-holes” the Boers call them), which abound along the road in -the wet season, his first instinct is to plunge into it; but reflection -tells him that he has not time to explore its cool depths and -delightful stickiness, and that if he falls or sticks the team behind -and perhaps the wagon itself will be upon him. So he struggles all he -can to skirt delicately round it, and if he is one of the steering -oxen, the effort brings disaster either on the wagon or himself. No -less terrible is his fate when for hour after hour the wagon has to -plough its way through one of the upland bogs; when the wheels are sunk -to the hubs, and the legs of all the oxen disappear, and the shrieking -whips and yelling drivers are never for a moment still. Why the ox also -very strongly objects to getting his tail wet I have not found out.</p> - -<p>Another peculiarity is that the ox is too delicate to work if it is -raining. Cut his hide to ribbons with rhinoceros whips, rot off his -tail with inoculation for lung-sickness, let ticks suck at him till -they swell as large as cherries with his blood—he bears all patiently. -But if a soft shower descends on him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> while he is in the yoke, he will -work no more. Within a minute or two he gets the sore hump—a terrible -thing to have. There is nothing to do but to stop. The hump must be -soothed down with wagon-grease—a mixture of soft-soap, black-lead, -and tar—and I have heard of wagons halted for weeks together because -the owner drove his oxen through a storm. Seeing that it rains in -water-spouts nearly every morning or afternoon from October to May, the -working-hours are considerably shortened, and unhappy is the man who is -in haste. I was in haste.</p> - -<p>To be happy in Africa a man should have something oxlike in his nature. -Like an ox, or like “him that believeth,” he must never make haste. He -must accept his destiny and plod upon his way. He must forget emotion -and think no more of pleasures. He must let time run over him, and hope -for nothing greater than a lick of salt.</p> - -<p>But there is one kind of ox which develops further characteristics, and -that is the riding-ox. He is the horse of Angola and of all Central -Africa where he can live. With ring in nose and saddle on back, he will -carry you at a swinging walk over the country, even through marshes -where a horse or a donkey would sink and shudder and groan. One of my -wagon team was a riding-ox, and it took four men to catch and saddle -him. To avoid the dulness of duty he would gallop like a racer and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> -leap like a deer. But when once saddled his ordinary gait was discreet -and solemn; and though his name was Buller, I called him “Old Ford,” -because he somehow reminded me of the Chelsea ’bus.</p> - -<p>All the oxen in the team, except Buller, were called by Boer names. -Nor was this simply because Dutch is the natural language of oxen. -Very nearly every one concerned with wagons in Angola is a Boer, and -it is to Boers that the Portuguese owe the only two wagon tracks that -count in the country—the road from Benguela through Caconda to Bihé -and on towards the interior, and the road up from Mossamedes, which -joins the other at Caconda. I think these tracks form the northernmost -limit of the trek-ox in Africa, and his presence is entirely due to a -party of Boers who left the Transvaal rather more than twenty years -ago, driven partly by some religious or political difference, but -chiefly by the wandering spirit of Boers. I have conversed with a man -who well remembers that long trek—how they Started near Mafeking and -crept through Bechuanaland, and skirting the Kalahari Desert, crossed -Damaraland, and reached the promised land of Angola at last. They were -five years on the way—those indomitable wanderers. Once they stopped -to sow and reap their corn. For the rest they lived on the game they -shot. Now you find about two hundred families of them scattered up -and down through South Angola, chiefly in the Humpata district.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> They -are organized for defence on the old Transvaal lines, and to them the -Portuguese must chiefly look to check an irruption of natives, such as -the Cunyami are threatening now on the Cunene River.</p> - -<p>Yet the Portuguese have taken this very opportunity (February, 1905) -for worrying them all about licenses for their rifles, and threatening -to disarm them if all the taxes are not paid up in full. At various -points I met the leading Boers going up to the fort at Caconda, -brooding over their grievances, or squatted on the road, discussing -them in their slow, untiring way. On further provocation they swore -they would trek away into Barotzeland and put themselves under British -protection. They even raised the question whether the late war had -not given them the rights of British subjects already. A slouching, -unwashed, foggy-minded people they are, a strange mixture of simplicity -and cunning, but for knowledge of oxen and wagons and game they have no -rivals, and in war I should estimate the value of one Boer family at -about ten Portuguese forts. They trade to some extent in slaves, but -chiefly they buy them for their own use, and they almost always give -them freedom at the time of marriage. Their boy slaves they train with -the same rigor as their oxen, but when the training is complete the boy -is counted specially valuable on the road.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> - -<p>Distances in Africa are not reckoned by miles, but by treks or by days. -And even this method is very variable, for a journey that will take -a fortnight in the dry season may very well take three months in the -wet. A trek will last about three hours, and the usual thing is two -treks a day. I think no one could count on more than twelve miles a -day with a loaded wagon, and I doubt if the average is as much as ten. -But it is impossible to calculate. The record from Bihé to Benguela by -the road is six weeks, but you must not complain if a wagon takes six -months, and the journey used to be reckoned at a year, allowing time -for shooting food on the way. In a straight line the distance is about -two hundred and fifty miles, or, by the wagon road, something over four -hundred and fifty, as nearly as I can estimate. But when it takes you -two or three days to cross a brook and a fortnight to cross a marsh, -distance becomes deceptive.</p> - -<p>One thing is very noticeable along that wagon road: from end to end of -it hardly a single native is to be seen. After leaving Benguela, till -you reach the district of Bihé, you will see only one native village, -and that is three miles from the road. Much of the country is fertile. -Villages have been plentiful in the past. The road passes through -their old fields and gardens. Sometimes the huts are still standing, -but all is silent and deserted now. Till this winter there was one -village left, close upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> the road, about a day’s trek past Caconda. -But when I hoped to buy a few potatoes or peppers there, I found it -abandoned like the rest. Where the road runs, the natives will not -stay. Exposed continually to the greed, the violence, and lust of white -men and their slaves, they cannot live in peace. Their corn is eaten -up, their men are beaten, their women are ravished. If a Portuguese -fort is planted in the neighborhood, so much the worse. Time after time -I have heard native chiefs and others say that a fort was the cruelest -thing to endure of all. It is not only the exactions of the Chefe in -command himself, though a Chefe who comes for about eighteen months -at most, who depends entirely on interpreters, and is anxious to go -home much richer than he came, is not likely to be particular. But it -is the brutality of the handful of soldiers under his command. The -greater part of them are natives from distant tribes, and they exercise -themselves by plundering and maltreating any villagers within reach, -while the Chefe remains ignorant or indifferent. So it comes that where -a road or fort or any other sign of the white man’s presence appears -the natives quit their villages one by one, and steal away to build new -homes beyond the reach of the common enemy. This is, I suppose, that -“White Man’s Burden” of which we have heard so much. This is “The White -Man’s Burden,” and it is the black man who takes it up.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> - -<p>To the picturesque traveller who is provided with plenty of tinned -things to eat, the solitude of the road may add a charm. For it is far -more romantic to hear the voice of lions than the voice of man. But, -indeed, to every one the road is of interest from its great variety. -Here in a short space are to be seen the leading characteristics of all -the southern half of Africa—the hot and dry edging near the shore, -the mountain zone, and the great interior plateau of forest or veldt, -out of which, I suppose, the mountain zone has been gradually carved, -and is still being carved, by the wash and dripping from the central -marshes. The three zones have always been fairly distinct in every part -of Africa that I have known, from Mozambique round to the mouth of the -Congo, though in a few places the mountain zone comes down close to the -sea.</p> - -<p>From Benguela I had to trek for six days, often taking advantage of the -moon to trek at night as well, before I saw a trace of water on the -surface of the rivers, and nine days before running water was found, -though I was trekking in the middle of the wet season. There are one -or two dirty wet places, nauseous with sulphur, but all drinking-water -for man or ox must be dug for in the beds of the sand rivers, and -sometimes you have to dig twelve feet down before the sand looks damp. -It is a beautiful land of bare and rugged hills, deeply scarred by -weather, and full of the wild and brilliant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> colors—the violet and -orange—that bare hills always give. But the oxen plod through it as -fast as possible, really almost hurrying in their eagerness for a -long, deep drink. Yet the district abounds in wild animals, not only -in elands and other antelopes, which can withdraw from their enemies -into deserts drier than teetotal States and can do without a drink for -days together. But there are other animals as well, such as lions and -zebras and buffaloes, which must drink every day or die. Somewhere, -not far away, there must be a “continuous water-supply,” as a London -County Councillor would say, and hunters think it may be the Capororo -or Korporal or San Francisco, only eight hours south of the road, where -there is always real water and abundance of game. A thirsty lion would -easily take his tea there in the afternoon and be back in plenty of -time to watch for his dinner along the road.</p> - -<p>Lions are increasing in number throughout the district, and, I believe, -in all Angola, though they are still not so common as leopards. -Certainly they watch the road for dinner, and all the way from Benguela -to Bihé you have a good chance of hearing them purring about your wagon -any night. Sometimes, then, you may find a certain satisfaction in -reflecting that you are inside the wagon and that twenty oxen or more -are sleeping around you, tied to their yokes. An ox is a better meal -than a man,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> but to men as well as to oxen the lions are becoming more -dangerous as the wilder game grows scarcer. A native, from the wagon -which crossed the Cuando just after mine, was going down for water in -the evening, when a lion sprang on him and split the petroleum-can with -his claw. The boy had the sense to beat his cup hard against the tin, -and the monarch of the forest was so disgusted at the noise that he -withdrew; but few boys are so quick, and many are killed, especially in -the mountain zone, about one hundred miles from the coast.</p> - -<p>I think it is ten years ago now that one of the Brothers of the Holy -Spirit was walking in the mission garden at Caconda in the cool of the -evening, meditating vespers or something else divine, when he looked -up and saw a great lion in the path. Instead of making for the nearest -tree, he had the good sense to fall on his knees, and so he went to -death with dignity. And on one of the nights when I was encamped near -the convent six lions were prowling round it. Vespers were over, but it -was a pleasure to me to reflect how much better prepared for death the -Brothers were than I.</p> - -<p>It is very rarely that you have the luck to see a lion, even where they -abound. They are easily hidden. Especially in a country like this, -covered with the tawny mounds and pyramids of the white ant, you may -easily pass within a few yards of a whole domestic circle of lions -without knowing it.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> Nor will they touch an armed white man unless -pinched with hunger. Yet, in spite of all travellers’ libels, the lion -is really the king of beasts, next to man. You have only to look at -his eye and his forearm to know it. I need not repeat stories of his -strength, but one peculiarity of his was new to me, though perhaps -familiar to most people. A great hunter told me that when, with one -blow of his paw, a lion has killed an ox, he will fasten on the back of -the neck and cling there in a kind of ecstasy for a few seconds, with -closed eyes. During that brief interval you can go quite close to him -unobserved and shoot him through the brain with impunity.</p> - -<p>I found the most frequent spoor of lions in a sand river among the -mountains, about a week out from Benguela. The country there is very -rich in wild beasts—Cape buffalo, many antelopes, and quagga (or -Burchell’s zebra, as I believe they ought to be called, but the hunters -call them quagga).</p> - -<p>I was most pleased, however, to find upon the surface of the sand river -the spoor of a large herd of elephants which had passed up it the night -before. It was difficult to make out their numbers, for they had thrust -their trunks deep into the sand for water, and having found it, they -evidently celebrated the occasion with a fairy revel, pouring the water -over their backs and tripping it together upon the yellow sands. But -when they passed on, it was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> clear that the cows and calves were on -the right, while the big males kept the left, and probably forced the -passages through the thickest bush. A big bull elephant’s spoor on sand -is more like an embossed map of the moon with her mountains and valleys -and seas than anything else I can think of. A cow’s footprint is the -map of a simpler planet. And the calf’s is plain, like the impression -of a paving-hammer, only slightly oval.</p> - -<p>There was no nasty concealment about that family. The path they had -made through the forest was like the passage of a storm or the course -of a battle. They had broken branches, torn up trees, trampled the -grass, and snapped off all the sugary pink flowers of the tall aloes, -which they love as much as buns in the Zoo. So to the east they -had passed away, open in their goings because they had nothing to -fear—nothing but man, and unfortunately they have not yet taken much -account of him. The hunters say that they move in a kind of zone or -rough circle—from the Upper Zambesi across the Cuando into Angola and -the district where they passed me, and so across the Cuanza northward -and eastward into the Congo, and round towards Katanga and the sources -of the Zambesi again. The hunters are not exactly sure that the same -elephants go walking round and round the circle. They do not know. But -a prince might very profitably spend ten years in following an elephant -family<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> round from point to point of its range—profitably, I mean, -compared to his ordinary round of royal occupations.</p> - -<p>I must not stay to tell of the birds—the flamingoes that pass down the -coast, so high that they look no more than geese; the eagles, vultures, -and hawks of many kinds; the parrots, few but brilliant; the metallic -starling, of two species at least, both among the most gorgeous of -birds; the black-headed crane and the dancing crane whose crest is -like Cinderella’s fan, full-spread and touched with crimson; the many -kinds of hornbill, including the bird who booms all night with joy at -approaching rain; the great bustard, which the Boers in their usual -slipshod way called the pau or peacock, simply because it is big, just -as they call the leopard a tiger and the hyena a wolf. Nor must I tell -of the guinea-fowl and francolins, or of the various doves, one of -which begins with three soft notes and then runs down a scale of seven -minor tones, fit to break a mourner’s heart; nor of the aureoles and -the familiar bird that pleases his wives by growing his tail so long he -can hardly hover over the marshes; nor even of our childhood’s friend, -the honey-guide, whose cheery twitter may lead to the wild bees’ nest, -but leads just as cheerily to a python or a lion asleep. I cannot speak -of these, though I feel there is the making of a horrible tract in that -honey-guide.</p> - -<p>When you have climbed the mountains—in one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> place the wagon crawls -over a pass or summit of close upon five thousand feet—you gradually -leave the big game (except the lions) and the most brilliant of the -birds behind. But the deer become even more plentiful in places. The -road is driving them away, as it has driven the natives, and for -the same reason. But within a few hours of the road you may find -them still—the beautiful roan antelope, the still more beautiful -koodoo, the bluebock, the lechwe, the hartebeest (and, I believe, the -wildebeest, or gnu, as well), the stinking water-buck, the reedbuck, -the oribi, and the little duiker, or “diver,” called from its way of -leaping through the high grass and disappearing after each bound. It is -fine to see any deer run, but there can be few things more delightful -than to watch the easy grace of a duiker disappearing in the distance -after you have missed him.</p> - -<p>Caconda is, in every sense, the turning-point of the journey; first, -because the road, after running deviously southeast, here turns almost -at right angles northeast on its way to Bihé; secondly, because Caconda -marks the entire change in the character of the scenery from mountains -to the great plateau of forest and marshy glades. And besides, Caconda -is almost the one chance you have of seeing human habitations along the -whole course of the journey of some four hundred and fifty miles. The -large native town has long since disappeared,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> though you can trace its -ruins; but about five miles south of the road is a rather important -Portuguese station of half a dozen trading-houses, a church—only in -its second year, but already dilapidated—and a fort, with a rampart, -ditch, a toy cannon, and a commandant who tries with real gravity to -rise above the level of a toy. Certainly his situation is grave. The -Cunyami, who ate up the Portuguese force on the Cunene in September of -1904, have sent him a letter saying they mean next to burn him and his -fort and the trading-houses too. He has under his command about thirty -black soldiers and a white sergeant; and he might just as well have -thirty black ninepins and a white feather. He impressed me as about the -steadiest Portuguese I had yet seen, but no wonder he looked grave.</p> - -<p>He is responsible, further, for the safety of the Catholic mission, -which stands close beside the wagon track itself, overlooking a wide -prospect of woodland and grass which reminds one of the view over the -Weald of Kent from Limpsfield Common or Crockham Hill. The mission -has a tin-roofed church, a gate-house, cells for the four Fathers and -five Brothers, dormitories for a kind of boarding-school they keep, -excellent workshops, a forge, and a large garden, where the variety -of plants and fruits shows what the natives might do but for their -unalterable belief that every new plant which comes to maturity costs -the life of some one in the village.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img010"> - <img src="images/010.jpg" class="w75" alt="CATHOLIC MISSION AT CACONDA" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">CATHOLIC MISSION AT CACONDA</p> - -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> - -<p>Though under Portuguese allegiance and drawing money from the state, -all the Fathers and Brothers were French or Alsatian. The superior -was a blithe and energetic Norman, who probably could tell more about -Angola and its wildest tribes than any one living. But to me, caution -made him only polite. The Fathers are said to maintain that acrid -old distinction between Catholic and Protestant—not, one would have -thought, a matter of great importance—and in the past they have shown -much hostility to all other means of enlightening the natives except -their own. But things are quieter just now, and over the whole mission -itself broods that sense of beauty and calm which seems almost peculiar -to Catholicism. One felt it in the gateway with its bell, in the rooms, -whitewashed and unadorned, in the banana-walk through the garden, in -the workshops, and even under that hideous tin roof, when some eighty -native men and women knelt on the bare, earthen floor during the Mass -at dawn.</p> - -<p>It is said, but I do not know with what truth, that the Fathers buy -from the slave-traders all the “boys” whom they bring up in the -mission. The Fathers themselves steadily avoided the subject in -conversing with me, but I think it is very probable. About half a mile -off is a Sisters’ mission, where a number of girls are trained in -the same way. When the boys and girls intermarry, as they generally -do, they are settled out in villages within sight of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> mission. -I counted five or six such villages, and this seems to show, though -it does not prove, that most of the boys and girls came originally -from a distance, or have no homes to return to. On the whole, I am -inclined to believe that but for slavery the mission’s work must have -taken a different form. But why the Fathers should be so cautious -about confessing it I do not know, unless they are afraid of being -called supporters of the slave-trade because they buy off a few of its -victims, and so might be counted among its customers.</p> - -<p>From Caconda it took me only three weeks with the wagon to reach the -Bihé district, which, I believe, was a record for the wet season. -There are five rivers to cross, all of them difficult, and the first -and last—the Cuando and the Kukema—dangerous as well. The track also -skirts round the marshy source of other great watercourses, and it was -with delight that I found myself at the morass which begins the great -river Cunene, and, better still, at a little “fairy glen” of ferns and -reeds where the Okavango drips into a tiny basin, and dribbles down -till it becomes the great river which fills Lake Ngami—Livingstone’s -Lake Ngami, so far away, on the edge of Khama’s country!</p> - -<p>The wagon had, besides, to struggle across many of those high, upland -bogs which are the terror of the transport-rider in summer-time. The -worst and biggest of these is a wide expanse something like an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> Irish -bog or a wet Salisbury Plain, which the Portuguese call Bourru-Bourru, -from the native Vulu-Vulu. It is over five thousand feet above the -sea, and so bare and dreary that when the natives see a white man with -a great bald head they call it his Vulu-Vulu. It was almost exactly -midsummer there when I crossed it, and I threw no shadow at noon, -but at night I was glad to cower over a fire, with all the coats and -blankets I had got, while the mosquitoes howled round me as if for -warmth.</p> - -<p>Two points of history I must mention as connected with this part of my -journey. The day after I crossed the Calei I came, while hunting, to a -rocky hill with a splendid view over the valley, only about a mile from -the track. On the top of the hill I found the remains of ancient stone -walls and fortifications—a big circuit wall of piled stones, an inner -circle, or keep, at the highest point, and many cross-walls for streets -or houses. The whole was just like the remains of some rude mediæval -fortress, and it may possibly have been very early Portuguese. More -likely, it was a native chief’s kraal, though they build nothing of -the kind now. Among the natives themselves there is a vague tradition -of a splendid ancient city in this region, which they remember as “The -Mountain of Money.” Possibly this was the site, and it is strange that -no Boers or other transport-riders I met had ever seen the place.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p> - -<p>The other point comes a little farther on—about three days after -one crosses the Cunughamba. It is the place by the roadside where, -three years ago, the natives burned a Portuguese trader alive and -made fetich-medicine of his remains. It happened during the so-called -“Bailundu war” of 1902, to which I have referred before. On the spot -I still found enough of the poor fellow’s bones to make any amount -of magic. But if bones were all, I could have gathered far more in -the deserted village of Candombo close by. Here a great chief had his -kraal, surrounded by ancient trees, and clustered round one of the -mightiest natural fortresses I have ever seen. It rises above the trees -in great masses and spires of rock, three or four hundred feet high, -and in the caves and crevasses of those rocks, now silent and deserted, -I found the pitiful skeletons of the men, women, and children of all -the little tribe, massacred in the white man’s vengeance. Whether the -vengeance was just or unjust I cannot now say. I only know that it was -exacted to the full.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="V">V<br /> -<span class="small">THE AGENTS OF THE SLAVE-TRADE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The few English people who have ever heard of Bihé at all probably -imagine it to themselves as a largish town in Angola famous for its -slave-market. Nothing could be less like the reality. There is no town, -and there is no slave-market. Bihé is a wide district of forest and -marsh, part of the high plateau of interior Africa. It has no mountains -and no big rivers, except the Cuanza, which separates it from the land -of the Chibokwe on the east. So that the general character of the -country is rather indistinctive, and you might as well be in one part -of it as another. In whatever place you are, you will see nothing but -the broad upland, covered with rather insignificant trees, and worn -into quiet slopes by the action of the water, which gathers in morasses -of long grass, hidden in the midst of which runs a deep-set stream. -Except that it is well watered, fairly cool, and fairly healthy, there -is no great attraction in the region. There are a good many leopards -and a few wandering lions in the north. Hippos come up the larger<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> -streams to breed, and occasionally you may see a buck or two. But -it is a poor country for beasts and game, and poor for produce too, -though the orange orchards and strawberry-beds at the mission stations -show it is capable of better things. On the whole, the impression of -the country is a certain want of character. Often while I have been -plodding through woods looking over a grassy valley I could have -imagined myself in Essex, except that here there are no white roads and -no ancient villages. The whole scene is so unlike the popular idea of -tropical Africa that it is startling to meet a naked savage carrying a -javelin, and almost shocking to meet a lady with only nine inches of -dress.</p> - -<p>There is no town and no public slave-market. The Portuguese fort -at Belmonte, once the home of that remarkable man and redoubtable -slave-trader, Silva Porto, and the scene of his rather splendid suicide -in 1890, may be taken as the centre of the district. But there are -only two or three Portuguese stores gathered round it, and scattered -over the whole country there are only a very limited number of other -trading-houses, the largest being the headquarters of the Commercial -Company of Angola, established at Caiala, one day’s journey from the -fort. The trading-houses are, I think, without exception, worked -by slave labor, as are the few plantations of sweet-potato for the -manufacture of rum,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> which, next to cotton cloth, is the chief -coinage in all dealings with the natives. The exchange from the native -side consists chiefly of rubber, oxen, and slaves, a load of rubber -(say fifty to sixty pounds), an ox, and a young slave counting as about -equal in the recognized currency. In English money we might put the -value at £9.</p> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img011"> - <img src="images/011.jpg" class="w75" alt="CARRIERS ON THE MARCH" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">CARRIERS ON THE MARCH</p> - -<p class="p2">It is through these trading-houses that the slave-trade has hitherto -been chiefly conducted, and if you want slaves you can buy them readily -from any of the larger houses still. But the Bihéans have themselves -partly to blame for the ill repute of their country. They are born -traders, and will trade in anything. For generations past, probably -long before the Portuguese established their present feeble hold upon -the country, the Ovimbundu, as they are called, have been sending their -caravans of traders far into the interior—far among the tributaries -of the Congo, and even up to Tanganyika and the great lakes. Like all -traders in Central Africa, they tramp in single file along the narrow -and winding foot-paths which are the roads and trade routes of the -country. They carry their goods on their heads or shoulders, clamped -with shreds of bark between two long sticks, which act as levers. The -regulation load is about sixty pounds, but for his own interest a man -will sometimes carry double as much. As a rule, they march five or six -hours a day, and it takes them about two months to reach the villages<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> -of Nanakandundu, which may be taken as the centre of African trade, -as it is the central point of the long and marshy watershed which -divides the Zambesi from the Congo. For merchandise, they carry with -them cotton cloth, beads, and salt, and at present they are bringing -out rubber for the most part and a little beeswax. As to slaves, guns, -gunpowder, and cartridges are the best exchange for them, owing to -the demand for such things among the “Révoltés”—the cannibal and -slave-dealing tribes who are holding out against the Belgians among the -rivers west of the Katanga district. But the conditions of this caravan -slave-trade have been a good deal changed in the last three years, and -I shall be able to say more about it after my farther journey into the -interior.</p> - -<p>As traders, the Bihéans have gained certain advantages. Their Umbundu -language almost takes the place in Central West Africa that the -Swahili takes on the eastern side. It will carry you fairly well, -at all events, along the main foot-paths of trade. They are richer -than other tribes, too; they live a little better, they wear rather -larger cloths, and get more to eat. But they are naturally despised by -neighbors who live by fighting, hunting, fishing, and the manly arts. -They are tainted with the softness of trade. In the rising against the -Portuguese in 1902, which brought such benefits to all this part of -Angola, nearly all of them refused to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> take any share. They are losing -all skill and delight in war. They are almost afraid of their own oxen, -and scarcely have the courage to train them. For the wilder side of -African life a Bihéan is becoming almost as useless as a board-school -boy from Hackney. For skill or sense of beauty in the common arts of -metal-work, wood-work, basket-weaving, or ornament, they cannot compare -to any of the neighboring tribes. In fact, they are a commercial -people, and they pay the full penalty which all commercial peoples have -to pay.</p> - -<p>Away from the main trade route the country is rather thickly inhabited. -The villages lie scattered about in clusters of five or six together. -All are strongly stockaded, for custom rather than defence (unless -against leopards), and all have rough gates of heavy swinging beams -that can be dropped at night, like a portcullis. Most people would say -the huts were round; but only the cattle-breeding tribes, like the -Ovampos in the south, have round huts. The Bihéan huts are intended to -be oblong or square, but as natives have no eye for the straight line, -and the roofs are invariably conical, one is easily mistaken. Except to -those who have seen nothing better than the filth and grime of English -cities, the villages would not appear remarkably clean. They cannot -compare for neatness and careful arrangement to the Zulu villages, -for instance, nor even to the neighboring Chibokwe. But each family -has<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> its separate enclosure, with huts according to its size or the -number of the wives, and usually a little patch of garden—for peppers, -tomatoes the size of damsons, and perhaps some tobacco. Somewhere in -the centre of the enclosures there is sure to be a largish open space -with a town hall or public club (onjango). This is much the same in -all villages in Central Africa—a pointed, shady roof, supported by -upright beams, set far enough apart to admit of entrance on any side. -It serves as a parliament-house, a court of justice, a general workshop -(especially for metal-workers among the Chibokwe), and for lounge, or -place of conversation and agreeable idleness. Perhaps a good club is -the best idea we can form of it. It forms a meeting-place for politics, -news, chatter, money-making, and games, nor have I ever seen a woman -inside.</p> - -<p>On the dusty floor a piece of hard ground, three or four inches above -the rest of the surface, is usually left as the throne or place of -honor for the chief. There he reclines, or sits on a stool six inches -high, and exercises the usual royal functions. He is clothed in apparel -which one soon comes to recognize as kingly. It is some sort of cap or -hat and a shirt. The original owners of both were probably European, -but time enough has elapsed to secure them the veneration due to the -symbols of established authority, and they are covered with layer -upon layer of tradition. Thus arrayed, the chief<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> sits from morning -till evening in the very heart of his kingdom and contemplates its -existence. Sometimes a criminal case or a dispute about debt comes up -for his decision. Then he has the assistance of three elders of the -village, and in extreme cases he is supposed to seek the wisdom of -the white man at the fort. But the expense of such wisdom is at least -equal to its value, and rather than risk the delay, the uncertainty -of justice, and the certainty of some contribution to the legal fees -in pigs, oxen, or rubber, the villagers usually settle up their own -differences more quickly and good-naturedly now than they used, and -so out of the strong comes forth sweetness. In the last resort the -ancient tests of poison and boiling water are still regarded as final -(as, indeed, they are likely to be), and men who have lived long in -the country and know it well assure me that those tests are still -recommended by the wisdom of the white man at the fort.</p> - -<p>Adjoining the public square the chief has his own enclosure, with the -royal hut for his wives, who may number anything from four to ten or -so, the number, as in all countries, being regulated by the expense. -Leaving the politics, law, games, and other occupations of public life -to the more strictly intellectual sex, the wives, like the other women -of the village, follow the primeval labor of the fields (which, as a -rule, are of their own making), and go out at dawn with basket and hoe -on their heads and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> babies wrapped to their backs, returning in the -afternoon to pound the meal in wooden mortars, and otherwise prepare -the family’s food.</p> - -<p>I have had difficulty in finding out why one man is chief rather -than another. It is not entirely a matter of blood or of wealth, -still less of character. But all these go for something, and the -villagers themselves appear to have a certain voice in the selection, -though the choice must lie within the bounds of the “blood royal.” -Constitutionally, I believe, the same principle holds in the case of -the British crown. I have never heard of a disputed succession in an -African village, though disputes often arise in the larger tribes, as -among the Cunyami, where a very intelligent chief was lately poisoned -by his brother, as too peaceable and philosophic for a king. But there -is no longer a king or head chief in Bihé. The last was captured over -twenty years ago, after a mythical resistance in his umbala or capital -of Ekevango, the ancient trees of which can be seen from the American -mission at Kamundongo. So he joined the kings in exile, and, I believe, -still drags out an existence of memories in the Santiago of Portuguese -Guinea. There remain the chiefs of districts, and the headmen of -villages, and though, as I have described, their state is hardly to be -distinguished from that of royalty, they are generally allowed to live -to enjoy it.</p> - -<p>But best of all I like a chief in his moments of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> condescension, when -he steps down from his four inches of mud and squats in the level -dust with the rest, just to show the young men how games should be -played. Chiefs appear to be specially good at the games which take -the place of cards and similar leisurely pastimes in European courts. -The favorite is a mixture of backgammon and “Archer up.” It is played -either on a hewn log or in the dust, and consists in getting a large -number of beans through four rows of holes. At first it looks like “go -as you please,” but in time, as you watch, certain rules rise out of -chaos, and you find that the best player really wins. The best player -is nearly always the chief, and I have no doubt he devotes long hours -of his magnificent leisure to pondering over the more scientific -aspects of the pursuit. In the same way one has heard of European kings -renowned for their success at Monte Carlo, baccarat, and bridge.</p> - -<p>But, besides the games, the chiefs are the repositories of traditional -wisdom, and for this function it is harder to find a parallel among -civilized courts. The wisdom is usually expressed in symbolic diagrams -upon the dust. In his moments of fatherly instruction the chief will -smooth a surface with his hand, and on it trace with his fingers a -mystic line—I think it must always be a continuous and unbroken -line—which expresses some secret of human existence. Sometimes the -design is merely heraldic, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> in this conventional figure of a -one-headed eagle, which I recommend to the German Emperor for a new -flag. But generally there is a hidden significance, not to be detected -without superior information. The chief, for instance, will imprint -five spots on the sand, and round them trace an interminable line -which just misses each spot in turn. The five spots signify the vain -ambitions of man, and the line is man’s vain effort ever to reach -them. Or again, he will mark nine points with his finger on the sand -and trace a line which will surround eight of them and always come -back to the ninth, which stands in the centre. Till superior wisdom -informed you, probably you would hardly guess that the eight points are -the “thoughts” of man, and that the ninth, to which the line always -returns, is the end of the whole matter—that no solution of the -thoughts of man is ever to be found:</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Earth could not answer, nor the seas that mourn.”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>It is surprising to find a philosophy so Omarian so far from Nashipur -and Babylon, but there it is.</p> - -<p>The Ovimbundu of Bihé, like all the natives in this part of Africa, -have also a large stock of proverbs. Out of a number of Umbundu -proverbs I have heard, we may take three as pretty fair samples of -wisdom: “If you miss, don’t break your bow,” which I like better than -the English doggerel of, “Try, try, try again,” or, “A bad carpenter -quarrels<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> with his tools”; “Speak of water and the fish are gone,” -a proverb that will bear many interpretations, though I think it -really means, “Never introduce your donah to your pal”; and, “The lion -needs no servant,” which I like best of all, but can find no parallel -for among a race so naturally snobbish as ourselves. A variation of -the proverb runs, “A pig has no servant, a lion needs none.” I have -heard many stories of folk-lore, too—legends or fables of animals, -something in the manner of “Uncle Remus.” As that the mole came late -and got no tail, or that the hen one day claimed the crocodile for her -brother, and all the beasts, under the hippo, assembled to support the -crocodile, and all the birds, under the eagle, to support the hen. -After long argument the hen demanded whether the crocodile did not -spring from an egg like herself. The claim was admitted, and since then -the crocodile and the hen have been brother and sister.</p> - -<p>More in the character of “Uncle Remus” is the favorite story how the -dog became the friend of man. Once upon a time a leopard intrusted a -starving dog with the care of her cubs. All went well till a turtle -appeared upon the scene and induced the dog to bring out one of the -cubs and share it between them, saying she could show the leopard -the same cub twice over and persuade her that the whole brood was -flourishing. This went on very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> satisfactorily for some days, the dog -and turtle devouring a cub daily, and the dog producing one of the cubs -for the leopard’s inspection twice, three times, four times over, as -the case demanded. At last only one cub was left alive, and it had to -be produced eight or nine times, according to the original number of -the litter. Next day there was no cub left at all, and the dog invited -the leopard to walk into the den and contemplate her healthy young -nursery for herself. No sooner had she entered the cave than the dog -bolted for the nearest village, and rushed among the huts, crying, -“Man, man, the leopard is coming!” Since which day the dog has never -left the village, but has remained the friend of man.</p> - -<p>Nearly akin to folk-lore are the quaint sayings and brief stories -which sum up the daily experience of a people. Take, for instance, -this dilemma, turning on an antipathy which appears to be the common -heritage of all mankind: “I go to bury my mother-in-law. The king sends -for me to attend his council. If I do not go to the king, he will cut -my head off. If I do not bury my mother-in-law, she may come to life. -I go to bury my mother-in-law.” More unusual to English ears was the -statement made quite seriously in my presence by a young man who was -inquiring about the manner of life in England. “If you can buy things -there,” he said, “there is no need to marry.” Certainly not;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> when -you can buy meal in a shop, why expose yourself to the annoyance and -irritation of keeping wives to sow and gather and pound and sift the -mealies for you?</p> - -<p>Like all the tribes of this region, the Bihéans are much given to -dancing, especially under a waxing moon, and when the dry season is -just beginning—say in the end of April. It so happens that the Bihéan -dances I have seen have been almost always the dances of children, and -they were very pretty. Sometimes a girl is lifted on the hands of a -group of children and jumped up and down in that perilous position, -while the others dance and sing round her. Sometimes the dance is a -kind of “hen and chickens” or “prisoners’ base.” But the prettiest -dance I know is the frog dance, in which the children crouch down in -rows and leap over the ground, clapping their elbows sharply against -their naked sides, with exactly the effect of Spanish castanets, while -their hard, bare feet stamp the dust in time. Then they have a game -something like “hunt the slipper,” two rows sitting on the ground -opposite each other, and tossing about a knotted cloth with their -legs. All these dances and games are accompanied by monotonous and -violent singing, the words of the song being repeated over and over -again. They are generally of the simplest kind, and have no apparent -connection with the dance. The song which I heard to the frog dance,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> -for instance, ran: “I am going to my mother in the village. I am going -to my mother in the village.”</p> - -<p>Various musical instruments are used all through this part of Africa, -perhaps the simplest being the primeval fiddle. A string of bark is -stretched across half a gourd, and made to vibrate with a notched -stick drawn to and fro across it. The player holds the gourd against -his breastbone, and hisses through his teeth in time to the movement, -sometimes adding a few words of song. After an hour or so he thus -works himself and his audience up almost to hypnotic frenzy. If this -is the simplest instrument, the alimba is the most elaborate. It is -a series of wooden slats—twelve or fourteen—attached to a curved -framework about six feet long. Behind the slats gourds are fixed -as sounding-boards, but the number of gourds does not necessarily -correspond to the slats. The player squats in the middle of the curve -and strikes the wood with rubber hammers. Though there is no true scale -of any kind, the individual notes are often fine and the result very -beautiful, especially before the singing begins.</p> - -<p>But the true instruments of Central Africa are the ochisanji and -the drum. The ochisanji is the primeval piano, a row of iron keys -(sometimes two rows) being laid upon a small oblong board, which -is covered with carving. The keys are played with the thumbs, and -some loose beads or bits of iron at the bottom of the board set up a -rattling which, to us,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> does not improve the music. But it is really -a beautiful instrument, and I can well imagine that when a native hears -it far from his village he is filled with the same yearning that a -Swiss feels at the sound of a cow-horn. It is the common accompaniment -to all native songs, the words being spoken to it rather than sung. -Nearly all carriers have an ochisanji tied round their necks, and one -of my carriers used to sing me a minor song, lamenting his poverty, his -loss of an ox, and loss of a lover, and between each verse he put in -a sobbing refrain, very musical and melancholy. The ochisanji also is -sometimes laid across half a hollow gourd, to improve the tone.</p> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img012"> - <img src="images/012.jpg" class="w50" alt="BIHÉAN MUSICIANS" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">BIHÉAN MUSICIANS</p> - -<p class="p2">And then there is the drum! The drum is undoubtedly as much the -national instrument of Africa as the bagpipe is of Scotland. It is -made out of almost anything—the bark of a tree stitched together into -a cylinder and covered with goat-skin at each end, or a hollow stump, -or even a large gourd will serve. But there is one kind of drum valued -above all others—so precious that, when a village owns one, it is -kept in a little house all to itself. This drum is shaped just like an -old-fashioned carpet-bag, half open, except that the top is longer than -the bottom. It measures about four feet high by three feet long, and is -about eight inches broad at the bottom, the sides tapering as towards -the mouth. The inside is hollowed out with axes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> the whole being made -of one solid block of wood. Half-way along the sides, near the top or -mouth, rough lumps of rubber are fixed, and these are thumped either -with a rubber-headed drumstick or with the fist, while a second player -taps the wood with a bit of stick. The result is the most overwhelming -sound I have heard. I know the war-drum, and I know the glory of the -drums in the Ninth Symphony, but I have never known an instrument that -had such an effect upon the mind as this African ochingufu. To me it -is intensely depressing. At its first throb my heart sinks into my -boots. Far from being roused to battle by such a sound, my instinct -would be to hide under the blanket. But to the native soul it is truly -inspiring. To all their great dances this is the sole accompaniment, -and for hour after hour of the night they will keep up its unvaried -beat without intermission, one drummer after another taking his turn, -while the dance goes on, and from time to time the dancers and the -crowd raise their monotonous chant. The invention of this terrible -instrument was altogether beyond Bihéan art, though they sometimes -imitate the models for themselves. But the greater number of the drums -are still imported from the far interior, around the sources of the -Zambesi, and they have become a regular article of commerce. Many -a time, along the great foot-path of trade, I have seen a carrier -bringing down the drum as part<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> of his load from some village hundreds -of miles east of Bihé, and I have wondered at the demon of terror and -revelry which lay enchanted in that common-looking piece of hollow wood.</p> - -<p>But then the whole country is full of other demons, not of revelry, -but certainly of terror. At the gates (that is, the narrow gaps in the -stockade) of nearly all villages stands a little cluster of sticks with -the skulls of antelopes on their tops. Sometimes the sticks are roofed -over with a little straw. Sometimes they are tied up with strips of -cloth like little flags, or a few bits of broken pot are laid in the -shrine and a little meal is scattered around. Often a similar shrine is -set up inside the village itself, and where a chief lives in his umbala -or capital among the ancient trees it will very likely have developed -into a “Kandundu”—the abode of a great magic spirit, who dwells in a -kind of cage on the top of a long pole. The worship of the Kandundu is -in some vague way connected with a frog, and the spirit is supposed to -reveal himself and utter his oracles to the witch-doctor in that form. -But if you get a chance of exploring that cage on the palm pole, you -generally find no frog, but only greasy rags. The bright point about -the Kandundu is that the spirit can become actively benevolent instead -of being merely a terror to be averted, like most of the spirits in -Africa. The same high praise can also be given to Okevenga, whose name -may be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> connected with the great river Okavango, and who is certainly -a benevolent spirit, watching over women, and helping them with their -fields, their sowing, and their children.</p> - -<p>These are the only two exceptions I have hitherto met with to the -general malignity of the spiritual world in this part of Africa. The -spirits of the dead are always evil disposed, when they return at -all, and they are the common agents of the witchcraft that plays so -large a part in village life and is the cause of so much slavery. It -is not uncommon for a woman to kill herself in order to haunt her -mother-in-law or another wife of whom she is jealous. And it is partly -to keep the spirit quiet for the year or so before it gradually fades -away into nothingness that poles surmounted by the skulls of oxen are -set above a grave. Partly also this is to display the wealth of the -family, which could afford to kill an ox or two at the funeral feast; -just as in England the mass of granite heaped upon a tomb is intended -rather to establish the respectability of the deceased than to secure -his repose.</p> - -<p>Slavery exists quite openly throughout Bihé in the three forms of -family slavery among the natives themselves, domestic slavery to the -Portuguese traders, and slavery on the plantations. The purchase of -slaves is rendered easier by certain native customs, especially by the -peculiar law which gives the possession of the children to the wife’s -brother,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> even during the lifetime of both parents. The law has many -advantages in a polygamous country, and the parents can redeem their -children and make them their own property by various payments, but, -unless the children are redeemed, the wife’s brother can claim them -for the payment of his own debts or the debts of his village. I think -this is chiefly done in the payment of family debts for witchcraft, -and I have seen a case in which, for a debt of that kind, a mother has -been driven to pawn her own child herself. Her brother had murdered -her eldest boy, and, going into the interior to trade, had died there. -Of course his wives and other relations charged her with witchcraft -through her murdered boy’s spirit, and she was condemned to pay a fine. -She had nothing to pay but her two remaining children, and as the girl -was married and with child, she was unwilling to take her. So she -pawned her little boy to a native for the sum required, though she knew -he would almost certainly be sold as a slave to the Portuguese long -before she could redeem him, and she would have no chance of redress.</p> - -<p>In that particular case, which happened recently, a missionary, who -knew the boy, advanced an ox in his place; but the missionary’s -intervention was, of course, entirely accidental, and the facts are -only typical of the kind of thing that is repeatedly happening in -places where there is no one to help or to know.</p> - -<p>In a village in the northwest of Bihé I have seen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> a man—the headman -of the place—who has been gradually tempted on by a Portuguese trader -till he has sold all his children and all the other relations in his -power for rum. Last of all, one morning at the beginning of this winter -(1905), he told his wife to smarten herself up and come with him to -the trader’s house. She appears to have been a particularly excellent -woman, of whom he was very fond. Yet when they arrived at the store he -received a keg of rum and went home with it, leaving his wife as the -trader’s property.</p> - -<p>In the same district I met a boy who told me how his father was sold -in the middle of last January. They were slaves to a native named -Onbungululu in the village of Chariwewa, and his father, in company -with twenty other of the slaves, was sold to a certain Portuguese -trader, who acts on behalf of the “Central Committee of Labor and -Emigration,” and was draughted quietly away through the bush for the -plantations in San Thomé.</p> - -<p>To show how low the price of human beings will run, I may mention a -case that happened in January, 1905, on the Cuanza, just over the -northeast frontier of Bihé. I think I noticed in an earlier chapter -that there was much famine there last winter, and so it came about that -a woman was sold for forty yards of cloth and a pig (cloth being worth -about fourpence a yard), and was brought into Bihé by the triumphant -purchaser.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p> - -<p>But that was an exception, and the following instance of the -slave-trader’s ways is more typical. Last summer a Portuguese, who is -perhaps the most notorious and reckless slave-trader now living in -Bihé, and whose name is familiar far in the interior of Africa, sent a -Bihéan into the southern Congo with orders to bring out so many slaves -and with chains to bind them. As the Bihéan was returning with the -slaves, one of them escaped, and the trader demanded another slave and -three loads of rubber as compensation. This the Bihéan has now paid, -but in the mean time the trader’s personal slaves have attacked and -plundered his village. The trader himself is at present away on his -usual business in the remote region of the Congo basin called Lunda, -and it is thought his return is rather doubtful; for the “Révoltés” and -other native tribes in those parts accuse him of selling cartridges -that will not fit their rifles. But he appears to have been flourishing -till quite lately, for the natives in the village where I am staying -say that he has sent out a little gang of seven slaves, which passed -down the road only the day before yesterday, on their way to San Thomé.</p> - -<p>But about that road, which has been for centuries the main slave route -from the interior to the Portuguese coast, I shall say more in my next -letter, when I have myself passed up and down it for some hundreds of -miles and had an opportunity of seeing its present condition.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<br /> -<span class="small">THE WORST PART OF THE SLAVE ROUTE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>I was going east along the main trade route—the main slave route—by -which the Bihéans pass to and fro in their traffic with the interior. -It is but a continuation of the track from Benguela, on the coast, -through the district of Bihé, and it follows the long watershed of -Central Africa in the same way. The only place where that watershed is -broken is at the passage of the Cuanza, which rises far south of the -bank of high ground, but has made its way northward through it at a -point some three days’ journey east of the Bihéan fort at Belmonte, and -so reaches the sea on the west coast, not very far below Loanda.</p> - -<p>It forms the frontier of Bihé, dividing that race of traders from the -primitive and savage tribes of the interior. But on both sides along -its banks and among its tributaries you find the relics of other races -of very different character from the Bihéans—the Luimbi, whose women -still wear the old coinage of white cowry-shells in their hair, and the -Luchazi, who support their loads with a strap round<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> their foreheads, -like the Swiss, and whose women dress their hair with red mud, and -carry their babies straddled round the hip instead of round the back.</p> - -<p>Going eastward along this pathway into the interior, I had reached the -banks of the Cuanza one evening towards the end of the wet season. It -had been raining hard, but at sunset there was a sullen clear which -left the country steaming with damp. On my left I could hear the roar -of the Cuanza rapids, where the river divides among rocky islands and -rushes down in breakers and foam. And far away, across the river’s -broad valley, I could see the country into which I was going—straight -line after line of black forest, with the mist rising in pallid lines -between. It was like a dreary skeleton of the earth.</p> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img013"> - <img src="images/013.jpg" class="w75" alt="CROSSING THE CUANZA" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">CROSSING THE CUANZA</p> - - -<p class="p2">Such was my first sight of “the Hungry Country”—that accursed stretch -of land which reaches from just beyond the Cuanza almost to the -Portuguese fort at Mashiko. How far that may be in miles I cannot say -exactly. A rapid messenger will cover the distance in seven days, but -it took me nine, and it takes most people ten or twelve. My carriers -had light loads, and in spite of almost continuous fevers and poisoned -feet we went fast, walking from six till two or even four o’clock -without food, so that, even allowing for delays at the deep morasses -and rivers and the long climbs up the forest hills, I think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> we cannot -have averaged less than twenty miles a day, and probably we often made -twenty-five. I should say that the distance from the Cuanza to Mashiko -must be somewhere about two hundred and fifty miles, and it is Hungry -Country nearly the whole way.</p> - -<p>Still less is it certain how far the district extends in breadth -from north to south. I have often looked from the top of its highest -uplands, where a gap in the trees gave me a view, in the hope of seeing -something beyond. But, though the hill might be six thousand feet above -the sea, I could never get a sight of anything but forest, and still -more forest, till the waves of the land ended in a long, straight -line of blue—almost as straight and blue as the sea—and nothing but -forest all the way, with not a trace of man. Yet the whole country is -well watered. Deep and clear streams run down the middle of the open -marshes between the hills. For the first day or two of the journey they -flow back into the Cuanza basin, but when you have climbed the woody -heights beyond, you find them running north into the Kasai, that great -tributary of the Congo, and south into the Lungwebungu or the Luena, -the tributaries of the Zambesi. At some points you stand at a distance -of only two days’ journey from the Kasai and the Lungwebungu on either -side, and there is water flowing into them all the year round. In -Africa it is almost always the want of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> water that makes a Hungry -Country, but here the rule does not hold.</p> - -<p>At first I thought the character of the soil was sufficient reason for -the desert. Except for the black morasses, it is a loose white sand -from end to end. The sand drifts down the hills like snow, and banks -itself up along any sheltered or level place, till as you plod through -it hour after hour, almost ankle-deep, while your shadow gradually -swallows itself up as the sun climbs the sky, your only thought becomes -a longing for water and a longing for one small yard of solid ground. -The trees are poor and barren, and I noticed that the farther I went -the soft joints of the grasses, which ought to be sweet, became more -and more bitter, till they tasted like quinine.</p> - -<p>This may be the cause of another thing I noticed. All living creatures -in this region are crazy for salt, just like oxen on a “sour veldt.” -Salt is far the best coinage you can take among the Chibokwe. I do not -mean our white table-salt. They reject that with scorn, thinking it -is sugar or something equally useless; but for the coarse and dirty -“bay-salt” they will sell almost anything, and a pinch of it is a -greater treat to a child than a whole bride-cake would be in England.</p> - -<p>I have tested it especially with the bees that swarm in these forests -and produce most of the beeswax that goes to Europe. I first noticed -their love<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> of salt when I salted some water one afternoon in the -vain hope of curing the poisoned sores on my feet. In half an hour -the swarms of bees had driven me from my tent. I was stung ten times, -and had to wait about in the forest till the sun set, when the bees -vanished, as by signal.</p> - -<p>Another afternoon I tested them by putting a heap of sugar, a paper -smeared with condensed milk, and a bag of salt tightly wrapped up in -tar-paper side by side on the ground. I gave them twenty minutes, and -then I found nothing on the sugar, five flies on the milk, and the -tar-paper so densely covered with bees that they overlapped one another -as when they swarm. For want of anything better, they will fight over -a sweaty shirt in the same way; and once, by the banks of a stream, -they sent all my carriers howling along the path by creeping up under -their loin-cloths. The butterflies seek salt also. If you spread out -a damp rag anywhere in tropical Africa, you will soon have brilliant -butterflies on it. But if you add a little salt in the Hungry Country, -the rag will be a blaze of colors, unless the bees come and drive the -butterflies off.</p> - -<p>As I said, the natives feel the longing too. Among the Chibokwe, the -women burn a marsh-grass into a potash powder as a substitute; and if -a native squats down in front of you, puts out a long, pink tongue and -strokes it appealingly with his finger,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> you may know it is salt he -wants. The scarcity has become worse since the Belgians, following -their usual highwayman methods, have robbed the natives of the great -salt-pans in the south of the Congo State and made them a trade -monopoly.</p> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img014"> - <img src="images/014.jpg" class="w75" alt="NATIVES BURNING GRASS FOR SALT" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">NATIVES BURNING GRASS FOR SALT</p> - -<p class="p2">In the character of the soil, then, there seemed to be sufficient -reason for the name of the country, and I should have been satisfied -with it but for distinct evidences that a few spots along the path -have been inhabited not so very long ago. Here and there you come upon -plants which grow generally or only on the site of deserted villages or -fields; such as the atundwa—a plant with branching fronds that smell -like walnut leaves. It yields a fruit whose hard and crimson case just -projects from the ground and holds a gray bag of seeds, very sour, and -almost as good to eat or drink as lemons. But still more definite is -the evidence of travellers, like the missionary explorer <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Arnot, who -first traversed the country over twenty years ago, and has described -to me the villages he found there then. There was, for instance, the -large Chibokwe town of Peho, which was built round the head of a marsh -close upon the main path some two or three days west of Mashiko. You -will still find the place marked, about the size of London, on any map -of Angola or Africa, but I have looked everywhere for it along the -route in vain. A Portuguese once told me he thought it was a few days’ -journey north of his house near<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> Mashiko. But he was wrong. The whole -place has entirely disappeared, and has less right than Nineveh to a -name on a modern map.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna1"><a href="#fn1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Chibokwe have a custom of destroying their villages and abandoning -the site whenever a chief dies, and this in itself is naturally very -puzzling to all geographers. But I think it hardly explains the utter -abandonment of the Hungry Country. It is commonly supposed that no wild -animals will live in the region, but that is not true, either. Many -times, when I have wandered away from the foot-path, I have put up -various antelopes—lechwe and duikers—and beside the marshes in the -early morning I have seen the fresh spoor of larger deer, as well as of -porcupines and wart-hogs. Cranes are fairly common, and green parrots -very abundant. Almost every night one hears the leopards roar. “Roar” -is not the word: it is that deep note of pleasurable expectancy that -they sound a quarter of an hour before feeding-time at the Zoo, and -they would not make that noise if there was nothing in the country to -eat. All these reasons put together drive me unwillingly to think there -may be some truth in the native belief that the whole land has been -laid under a curse which will never be removed. As I write, the rumor -reaches us that the basin of the Zambesi and all its tributaries have -just been awarded to Great Britain, so that nearly the whole of the Hungry -Country will come under English rule. It is important for England, -therefore, that the curse should be forgotten, and in time it may -be. All I know for certain is that undoubtedly a curse lies upon the -country now.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna2"><a href="#fn2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span></p> - -<p>There are two ferries over the Cuanza, one close under the Portuguese -fort, the other a comfortable distance up-stream, well out of -observation. It is a typically Portuguese arrangement. The Commandant’s -duty is to stop the slave-trade, but how can he be expected to see what -is going on a mile or so away! Even as you come down to the river, you -find slave-shackles hanging on the bushes. You cross the stream in -dugout canoes, running the chance of being upset by one of the hippos -which snort and pant a little farther up. You enter the forest again, -and now the shackles are thick upon the trees. This is the place where -most of the slaves, being driven down from the interior, are untied. It -is safe to let them loose here. The Cuanza is just in front, and behind -them lies the long stretch of Hungry Country, which they could never -get through alive if they tried to run back to their homes. So it is -that the trees on the western edge of the Hungry Country bear shackles in profusion—shackles for the -hands, shackles for the feet, shackles for three or four slaves who -are clamped together at night. The drivers hang them up with the idea -of using them again when they return for the next consignment of human -merchandise; but, as a rule, I think, they find it easier to make new -shackles as they are wanted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> - - -<p>A shackle is easily made. A native hacks out an oblong hole in a log -of wood with an axe; it must be big enough for two hands or two feet -to pass through, and then a wooden pin is driven through the hole from -side to side, so that the hands or feet cannot stir until it is drawn -out again. The two hands or feet do not necessarily belong to the same -person. You find shackles of various ages—some quite new, with the -marks of the axe fresh upon them, some old and half eaten by ants. But -none can be very old, for in Africa all dead wood quickly disappears, -and this is a proof that the slave-trade did not really end after the -war of 1902, as easy-going officials are fond of assuring us.</p> - -<p>When I speak of the shackles beside the Cuanza, I do not mean that -this is the only place where they are to be found. You will see them -scattered along the whole length of the Hungry Country; in fact, -I think they are thickest at about the fifth day’s journey. They -generally hang on low bushes of quite recent growth, and are most -frequent by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> the edge of the marshes. I cannot say why. There seems -to be no reason in their distribution. I have been assured that each -shackle represents the death of a slave, and, indeed, one often finds -the remains of a skeleton beside a shackle. But the shackles are so -numerous that if the slaves died at that rate even slave-trading would -hardly pay, in spite of the immense profit on every man or woman who -is brought safely through. It may often happen that a sick slave drags -himself to the water and dies there. It may be that some drivers think -they can do without the shackles after four or five days of the Hungry -Country. But at present I can find no satisfactory explanation of the -strange manner in which the shackles are scattered up and down the -path. I only know that between the Cuanza and Mashiko I saw several -hundreds of them, and yet I could not look about much, but had to watch -the narrow and winding foot-path close in front of me, as one always -must in Central Africa.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img015"> - <img src="images/015.jpg" class="w50" alt="SKELETON OF SLAVE ON A PATH THROUGH THE HUNGRY COUNTRY" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">SKELETON OF SLAVE ON A PATH THROUGH THE HUNGRY COUNTRY</p> - -<p class="p2">That path is strewn with dead men’s bones. You see the white -thigh-bones lying in front of your feet, and at one side, among the -undergrowth, you find the skull. These are the skeletons of slaves who -have been unable to keep up with the march, and so were murdered or -left to die. Of course the ordinary carriers and travellers die too. -It is very horrible to see a man beginning to break down in the middle -of the Hungry Country. He must go on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> or die. The caravan cannot wait -for him, for it has food for only the limited number of days. I knew a -distressful Irishman who entered the route with hardly any provision, -broke down in the middle, and was driven along by his two carriers, -who threatened his neck with their axes whenever he stopped, and only -by that means succeeded in getting him through alive. Still worse was -a case among my own carriers—a little boy who had been brought to -carry his father’s food, as is the custom. He became crumpled up with -rheumatism, and I found he had bad heart-disease as well. He kept on -lying down in the path and refusing to go farther. Then he would creep -away into the bush and hide himself to die. We had to track him out, -and his father beat him along the march till the blood ran down his -back.</p> - -<p>But with slaves less trouble is taken. After a certain amount of -beating and prodding, they are killed or left to die. Carriers are -always buried by their comrades. You pass many of their graves, hung -with strips of rag or decorated with a broken gourd. But slaves are -never buried, and that is an evidence that the bones on the path are -the bones of slaves. The Bihéans have a sentiment against burying -slaves. They call it burying money. It is something like their strong -objections to burying debtors. The man who buries a debtor becomes -responsible for the debts; so the body is hung up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> on a bush outside -the village, and the jackals consume it, being responsible for nothing.</p> - -<p>Before the great change made by the “Bailundu war” of 1902, the horrors -of the Hungry Country were undoubtedly worse than they are now. I have -known Englishmen who passed through it four years ago and found slaves -tied to the trees, with their veins cut so that they might die slowly, -or laid beside the path with their hands and feet hewn off, or strung -up on scaffolds with fires lighted beneath them. My carriers tell me -that this last method of encouraging the others is still practised away -from the pathway, but I never saw it done myself. I never saw distinct -evidence of torture. The horrors of the road have certainly become -less in the last three years, since the rebellion of 1902. Rebellion -is always good. It always implies an unendurable wrong. It is the only -shock that ever stirs the self-complacency of officials.</p> - -<p>I have not seen torture in the Hungry Country. I have only seen murder. -Every bone scattered along that terrible foot-path from Mashiko to the -Cuanza is the bone of a murdered man. The man may not have been killed -by violence, though in most cases the sharp-cut hole in the skull shows -where the fatal stroke was given. But if he was not killed by violence, -he was taken from his home and sold, either for the buyer’s use, or -to sell again to a Bihéan, to a Portuguese trader, or to the agents<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> -who superintend the “contract labor” for San Thomé, and are so useful -in supplying the cocoa-drinkers of England and America, as well as in -enriching the plantation-owners and the government. The Portuguese and -such English people as love to stand well with Portuguese authority -tell us that most of the men now sold as slaves are criminals, and so -it does not matter. Very well, then; let us make a lucrative clearance -of our own prisons by selling the prisoners to our mill-owners as -factory-hands. We might even go beyond our prisons. It is easy to prove -a crime against a man when you can get £10 or £20 by selling him. And -if each of us that has committed a crime may be sold, who shall escape -the shackles?</p> - -<p>The most recent case of murder that I saw was on my return through the -Hungry Country, the sixth day out from Mashiko. The murdered man was -lying about ten yards from the path hidden in deep grass and bracken. -But for the smell I should have passed the place without noticing -him as I have no doubt passed scores, and perhaps hundreds, of other -skeletons that lie hidden in that forest. How long the man had been -murdered I could not say, for decay in Africa varies with the weather, -but the ants generally contrive that it shall be quick. I think the -thing must have been done since I passed the place on my way into the -country, about a month before. But possibly it was a few days<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> earlier. -My “headman” had heard of the event (a native hears everything), but it -did not impress him or the other carriers in the least. It was far too -common. Unhappily I do not understand enough Umbundu to make out the -exact date or the details, except that the man was a slave who broke -down with the usual shivering fever on the road and was killed with an -axe because he could go no farther. As to the cause of death there was -no doubt. When I tried to raise the head, the thick, woolly hair came -off in my hand like a woven pad, leaving the skull bare, and revealing -the deep gash made by the axe at the base of the skull just before it -merges with the neck. As I set it down again, the skull broke off from -the backbone and fell to one side. Having laid a little earth upon the -body, I went on. It would take an army of sextons to bury all the poor -bones which consecrate that path.</p> - -<p>Yet, in spite of the shackles hanging on the trees, and in spite of the -skeletons upon the path and the bodies of recently murdered men, I have -not seen a slave caravan such as has been described to me by almost -every traveller who has passed along that route into the interior. I -mean, I have not seen a gang of slaves chained together, their hands -shackled, and their necks held fast in forked sticks. I am not sure -of the reason; there were probably many reasons combined. It is just -the end of the wet season, just the time when the traders think of -sending<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> in for slaves, and not of bringing them out. Directly the -natives in the Bihéan village near which I was staying heard I was -going to Mashiko, though they knew nothing of my object, they said, -“Now a messenger will be sent ahead to warn the slave-traders that -an Englishman is coming.” The same was told me by two Englishmen who -traversed the country last autumn for the mining concession, and in -my case I have not the slightest doubt that messengers were sent. -Again, a Portuguese trader, living on the farther side of the Hungry -Country, upon the Mushi-Moshi (the Simoï, as the Portuguese classically -call it), told me the drivers now bring the slaves through unknown -bush-paths north of the old route. He kept a store which, being on -the edge of the Hungry Country, was as frequented and lucrative as a -wine-and-spirit house must be on the frontier of a prohibition State. -And he was the only Portuguese I have met who recognized the natives as -fellow-subjects, and even as fellow-men, with rights of their own. He -also boasted, I think justly, of the good effects of the war in 1902.</p> - -<p>All these reasons may have contributed. But still I think that the -old caravan system has been reduced within the last three years. The -shock to public feeling in Portugal owing to the Bailundu war and its -revelations; the disgrace of certain officers at the forts, who were -convicted of taking a percentage of slaves from the passing caravans -as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> hush-money; the strong action of Captain Amorim in trying to -suppress the whole traffic; the instructions to the forts to allow no -chained gangs to pass—all these things have, I believe, acted as a -check upon the old-fashioned methods. There is also an increased risk -in obtaining slaves from the interior in large batches. The Belgians -strongly oppose the entrance of the traders into their state, partly -because guns and powder are the usual exchange for slaves, partly -because they wish to retain their own natives under their own tender -mercies. The line of Belgian forts along the frontier is quickly -increasing. Some Bihéan traders have been shot. In one recent case, -much talked of, a bullet from a Maxim gun struck the head of a gang -of slaves, marching as usual in single file, and killed nine in -succession. In any case, the traders seem to have discovered that the -palmy days when they used to parade their chained gangs through the -country, and burn, flog, torture, and cut throats as they pleased, are -over for the present. For many months after the war even the traffic -to San Thomé almost ceased. It has begun again now and is rapidly -increasing. As I noted in a former letter, an order was issued in -December, 1904, requiring the government agents to press on the supply. -But at present, I think, the slaves are coming down in smaller gangs. -They are not, as a rule, tortured; they are shackled only at night, -and the traders take<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> a certain amount of pains to conceal the whole -traffic, or at least to make it look respectable.</p> - -<p>As to secrecy, they are not entirely successful. A man whose word no -one in Central Africa would think of doubting has just sent down notice -from the interior that a gang of two hundred and fifty slaves passed -through the Nanakandundu district, bound for the coast, in the end of -February (1905), shackles and all. The man who brought the message had -done his best to avoid the gang, fearing for his life. But there is -no doubt they are coming through, and I ought to have met them near -Mashiko if they had not taken a by-path or been broken up into small -groups.</p> - -<p>It was probably such a small group that I met within a day’s journey of -Caiala, the largest trading-house in Bihé. I was walking at about half -an hour’s distance from the road, when suddenly I came upon a party of -eighteen or twenty boys and four men hidden in the bush. At sight of -me they all ran away, the men driving the boys before them. But they -left two long chicotes or sjamboks (hide whips) hanging on the trees, -as well as the very few light loads they had with them. After a time -I returned, and they ran away again. I then noticed that they posted -a man on a tree-top to observe my movements, and he remained there -till I trekked on with my own people. Of course the evidence is not -conclusive, but it is suspicious. Men armed with chicotes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> do not hide -a group of boys in the bush for nothing, and it is most probable that -they formed part of a gang going into Bihé for sale.</p> - -<p>I may have passed many such groups on my journey without knowing it, -for it is a common trick of the traders now to get up the slaves as -ordinary carriers. But among all of them, there was only one which -was obviously a slave gang, almost without concealment. My carriers -detected them at once, and I heard the word “apeka” (slaves)<span class="fnanchor" id="fna3"><a href="#fn3">[3]</a></span> passed -down the line even before I came in sight of them. The caravan numbered -seventy-eight in all. In front and rear were four men with guns, and -there were six of them in the centre. The whole caravan was organized -with a precision that one never finds among free carriers, and nearly -the whole of it consisted of boys under fourteen. This in itself would -be almost conclusive, for no trade caravan would contain anything like -that proportion of boys, whereas boys are the most easily stolen from -native villages in the interior, and, on the whole, they pay the cost -of transport best. But more conclusive even than the appearance of the -gang was the quiet evidence of my own carriers, who had no reason for -lying, who never pointed out another caravan of slaves, and yet had not -a moment’s doubt as to this.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p> - -<p>The importation of slaves from the interior into Angola may not be what -it was. It may not be conducted under the old methods. There is no -longer that almost continuous procession of chained and tortured men -and women which all travellers who crossed the Hungry Country before -1902 describe. For the moment rubber has become almost as lucrative as -man. The traffic has been driven underground. There is now a feeling of -shame and risk about it, and the military authorities dare not openly -give it countenance as before. But I have never heard of any case in -which they openly interfered to stop it, and the thing still goes on. -It is, in fact, fast recovering from the shock of the rebellion of -1902, and is now increasing again every month.</p> - -<p>It will go on and it will increase as long as the authorities and -traders habitually speak of the natives as “dogs,” and allow the men -under their command to misuse them at pleasure. To-day a negro soldier -in the white Portuguese uniform seized a little boy at the head of -my carriers, pounded his naked feet with the butt of his rifle, and -was beating him unmercifully with the barrel, when I sprang upon him -with two javelins which I happened to be carrying because my rifle was -jammed. At sight of me the emblem of Portuguese justice crawled on the -earth and swore he did not know it was a white man’s caravan. That was -sufficient excuse.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p> - -<p>Three days ago word came to me on the march that one of my carriers had -been shot at and wounded. We were in a district where three Chibokwe -natives actually with shields and bows as well as guns had hung upon -our line as we went in. I had that morning warned the carriers for the -twentieth time that they must keep together, and had set an advanced -and rear guard, knowing that stray carriers were being shot down. -But natives are as incapable of organization as of seeing a straight -line, and my people were straggled out helplessly over a length of -five or six miles. Hurrying forward, I found that the bullet—a cube -of copper—had just missed my carrier’s head, had taken a chip out of -his hand, and gone through my box. The carrier behind had caught the -would-be murderer, and there he stood—a big Luvale man, with filed -teeth, and head shaved but for a little tuft or pad at the top. I -supposed he ought to be shot, but my rifle was jammed, and I am not a -born executioner. However, I cleared a half-circle and set the man in -the middle. A great terror came into his face as I went through the -loading motions. I had determined, having blindfolded him, to catch -him a full drive between the eyes. This would give him as great a -shock as death. He would think it was death, and yet would have time -to realize the horror of it afterwards, which in the case of death he -would not have. But when all was ready, my carriers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> including the -wounded man, set up a great disturbance, and seized the muzzle of my -rifle and turned it aside. They kept shouting some reason which I did -not then understand. So I gave the punishment over to them, and they -took the man’s gun—a trade-gun or “Lazarino,” studded with brass -nails—stripped him of his powder-gourd, cloth, and all he had, beat -him with the backs of their axes, and drove him naked into the forest, -where he disappeared like a deer.</p> - -<p>I found out afterwards that their reason for clemency was the fear of -Portuguese vengeance upon their villages, because the man was employed -by the fort at Mashiko, and therefore claimed the right of shooting any -other native at sight, even over a minute’s dispute about yielding the -foot-path.</p> - -<p>Such small incidents are merely typical of the attitude which the -Portuguese take towards the natives and allow their own black soldiers -and slaves to take. As long as this attitude is maintained, the -immensely profitable slave-traffic which has filled with its horrors -this route for centuries past will continue to fill it with horrors, no -matter how secret or how legalized the traffic may become.</p> - -<p>I have pitched my tent to-night on a hill-side not far from the fort of -Matota, where a black sergeant and a few men are posted to police the -middle of the Hungry Country. In front of me a deep stream is flowing -down to the Zambesi with strong<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> but silent current in the middle of a -marsh. The air is full of the cricket’s call and the other quiet sounds -of night. Now and then a dove wakes to the brilliant moonlight, and -coos, and sleeps again. Sometimes an owl cries, but no leopards are -abroad, and it would be hard to imagine a scene of greater peace or of -more profound solitude. And yet, along this path, there is no solitude, -for the dead are here; neither is there any peace, but a cry.</p> - - -<div class="footnotes p2"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn1"><a href="#fna1">[1]</a> Commander Cameron describes the town and its chief, Mona Peho, in -<i>Across Africa</i>, p. 426 (1876).</p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn2"><a href="#fna2">[2]</a> The King of Italy’s award on the disputed frontier between British -Barotzeland and Portuguese Angola was not published, in fact, till -July, 1905. Great Britain received only part of her claim, and the -Hungry Country, together with the whole of the slave route, remains -under Portuguese misgovernment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn3"><a href="#fna3">[3]</a> Properly speaking, vapeka is the plural of upeka, a slave, but in -Bihé apeka is used.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII<br /> -<span class="small">SAVAGES AND MISSIONS</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>The Chibokwe do not sell their slaves; they kill them; and this -distinction between them and the Bihéans is characteristic. The Bihéans -are carriers and traders. They always have an eye fixed on the margin -of profit. They will sell anything, including their own children, -and it is waste to kill a man who may be sold to advantage. But the -Chibokwe are savages of a wilder race, and no Bihéan would dare buy a -Chibokwe slave, even if they had the chance. They know that the next -Bihéan caravan would be cut to pieces on its way.</p> - -<p>It is impossible to fix the limits of the Chibokwe country. The people -are always on the move. It is partly the poverty of the land that -drives them about, partly their habit of burning the village whenever -the chief dies; and as villages go by the chief’s name, they are the -despair of geographers. But in entering the interior you may begin -to be on your guard against the Chibokwe two days after crossing -the Cuanza. They have a way of cutting off stray carriers, and, as -I mentioned in my last<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> letter, my own little caravan was dogged by -three of them with shields and spears, who might have been troublesome -had they known that the Winchester with which I covered the rear was -only useful as a club. It was in the Chibokwe country, too, that the -one attempt was made to rob my tent at night, and again I only beat -off the thieves by making a great display with a jammed rifle. On one -side their villages are mixed up with the Luimbi, on the other with -the Luena people and the Luvale, who are scattered over the great, wet -flats between Mashiko and Nanakandundu. But they are a distinct people -in themselves, and they appear to be increasing and slowly spreading -south. If the King of Italy’s arbitration gives the Zambesi tributaries -to England, the Chibokwe will form the chief part of our new -fellow-subjects, and will share the legal advantages of Whitehall.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna4"><a href="#fn4">[4]</a></span></p> - -<p>They file or break their teeth into sharp points, whereas the Bihéans -compromise by only making a blunt angle between the two in front. It -used to be said that pointed teeth were the mark of cannibalism, but I -think it more likely that these tribes at one time had the crocodile or -some sharp-toothed fish as their totem, and certainly when they laugh -their resemblance to pikes, sharks, or crocodiles is very remarkable. Anyhow, the Chibokwe are not cannibals now, except -for medicine, or in the hope of acquiring the moral qualities of -the deceased. But I believe they eat the bodies of people killed by -lightning or other sudden death, and the Bihéans do the same.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> - -<p>Though not so desert as the Hungry Country, the soil of their whole -district is poor, and the people live in great simplicity. Hardly -any maize is grown, and the chief food is the black bean, a meal -pounded from yellow millet, and a beetle about four inches long. In -all villages there are professional hunters and fishers, but game is -scarce, and the fish in such rivers as the Mushi-Moshi (Simoï) are not -allowed to grow much above the size of whitebait. Honey is to be found -in plenty, but for salt, which is their chief desire, they have to put -up with the ashes of a burned grass, unless they can buy real salt from -the Bihéans in exchange for millet or rubber. Just at present rubber -is their wealth, and they are doing rather a large trade in it. All -over the forests they are grubbing up the plant by the roots, and in -the villages you may hear the women pounding and tearing at it all the -afternoon. But rubber thus extirpated gives a brief prosperity, and in -two years, or five at the most, the rubber will be exhausted and the -Chibokwe thrown back on their natural poverty.</p> - -<p>In the arts they far surpass all their neighbors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> on the west side. -They are so artistic that the women wear little else but ornament. -Their houses are square or oblong, with clean angles and straight -sides, and the roofs, instead of being conical, are oblong too, having -a straight beam along the top, like an English cottage. The tribe -is specially famous for its javelins, spears, knives, hatchets, and -other iron-work, which they forge in the open spaces round the village -club-house, working up their little furnaces with wooden tubes and -bellows of goat-skin, like loose drum-heads, pulled up and down with -bits of stick to make a draught. A simple pattern is hammered on some -of the axes, and on the side of one hut I saw an attempt at fresco—a -white figure on a red ground under a white moon—the figure being quite -sufficiently like an ox.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img016"> - <img src="images/016.jpg" class="w75" alt="A CHIBOKWE FORGE WHERE NATIVE SPEARS ARE MADE" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">A CHIBOKWE FORGE WHERE NATIVE SPEARS ARE MADE</p> - -<p class="p2">In dancing, the Chibokwe excel, like the Luvale people, who are their -neighbors on the eastern side, farther in the interior, and their -dances are much the same. It is curious that their favorite form is -almost exactly like the well-known Albanian dance of the Greeks. -Standing in a broken circle, they move round and round to a repeated -song, while the leader sets the pace, and now and again springs out -into the centre to display his steps. The Chibokwe introduce a few -varieties, the man in the centre beckoning with his hand to any one in -the ring to perform the next solo, and he in turn calling on another. -There is also much more movement of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> body than in the Albanian -dance, the chief object of the art being to work the shoulders up and -down, and wriggle the backbone as much like a snake as possible. But -the general idea of the dance is the same, and neither the movement nor -the singing nor the beat of the drum alters much throughout a moonlit -night.</p> - -<p>It is natural that the Chibokwe should have retained much of the -religious feeling and rites which the commercial spirit has destroyed -in the Bihéans. They are far more alive to the spiritual side of -nature, and the fetich shrines are more frequent in all their villages. -The gate of every village, and, indeed, of almost every house, has its -little cluster of sticks, with antelope skulls stuck on the tops, or -old rags fluttering, or a tiny thatched roof covering a patch of strewn -meal. The people have a way of painting the sticks in red and black -stripes, and so the fisher paints the rough model of a canoe that he -hangs by his door to please the fishing spirit. Or sometimes he hangs -a little net, and the hunter, besides his cluster of horned skulls, -almost always hangs up a miniature turtle three or four inches long. I -cannot say for what reason, but all these charms are not to avert evil -so much as to win the favor of a benign spirit who loves to fish or -hunt. So far the rites are above the usual African religion of terror -or devil-worship. But when a woman with child carves a wooden bird to -hang over her door,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> and gives it meal every evening and sprinkles meal -in front of her door, I think her object is to ward off the spirits of -evil from herself and her unborn baby.</p> - -<p>In a Chibokwe village, one burning afternoon, I found a native woman -being treated for sickness in the usual way. She was stretched on her -back in the dust and dirt of the public place, where she had lain for -four days. The sun beat upon her; the flies were thick upon her body. -Over her bent the village doctor, assiduous in his care. He knew, of -course, that the girl was suffering from witchcraft. Some enemy had -put an evil spirit upon her, for in Africa natural death is unknown, -and but for witchcraft and spirits man would be immortal. But still -the doctor was trying the best human means he knew of as well. He had -plastered the girl’s body over with a compound of leaves, which he had -first chewed into a pulp. He had then painted her forehead with red -ochre, and was now spitting some white preparation of meal into her -nose and mouth. The girl was in high fever—some sort of bilious fever. -You could watch the beating of her heart. The half-closed eyes showed -deep yellow, and the skin was yellow too. Evidently she was suffering -the greatest misery, and would probably die next day.</p> - -<p>It happened that two Americans were with me, for I had just reached -the pioneer mission station at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> Chinjamba, beyond Mashiko. One of them -was a doctor, with ten years’ experience in a great American city, and -after commending the exertions of the native physician, he asked to be -allowed to assist in the case himself. The native agreed at once, for -the white man’s fame as an exorcist had spread far through the country. -Four or five days later I saw the same girl, no longer stretched on hot -dust, no longer smeared with spittle, leaves, and paint, but smiling -cheerfully at me as she pounded her meal among the other women.</p> - -<p>The incident was typical of those two missionaries and their way of -associating with the natives. It is typical of most young missionaries -now. They no longer go about denouncing “idols” and threatening hell. -They recognize that native worship is also a form of symbolism—a -phase in the course of human ideas upon spiritual things. They do -not condemn, but they say, “We think we know of better things than -these,” and the native is always willing to listen. In this case, for -instance, after the girl had been put into a shady hut and doctored, -the two missionaries sat down on six-inch native stools outside the -club-house and began to sing. They were pioneers; they had only three -hymns in the Chibokwe language, and they themselves understood hardly -half the words. No matter; they took the meaning on trust. By continued -repetition, by feeling no shame in singing a hymn twenty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> or thirty -times over at one sitting, they had got the words fixed in the native -minds, and when it came to the chorus the whole village shouted -together like black stars. The missionaries understood the doctrine, -the people understood the words; it was not a bad combination, and I -thought those swinging choruses would never stop. The preaching was -perhaps less exhilarating to the audience, but so it has sometimes been -to other congregations, and the preacher’s knowledge of the language he -spoke was only five months old.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img017"> - <img src="images/017.jpg" class="w75" alt="A CHIBOKWE WOMAN AND HER FETICHES" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">A CHIBOKWE WOMAN AND HER FETICHES</p> - -<p class="p2">At the mission it was the same thing. The pioneers had set up a log -hut in the forest, admitting the air freely through the floor and -sides. They were living in hard poverty, but when they shared with me -their beans and unleavened slabs of millet, it was pleasant to know -that each of the two doors on either side of the hut was crammed with -savage faces, eagerly watching the antics of civilization at meals. -One felt like a lantern-slide, combining instruction with amusement. -The audience consisted chiefly of patients who had built a camp of -forty or fifty huts close outside the cabin, and came every morning to -be cured—cured of broken limbs, bad insides, wounds, but especially -of the terrible sores and ulcers which rot the shins and thighs, -tormenting all this part of Africa. Among the patients were three -kings, who had come far from the east. The greatest of them had brought -a few<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> wives—eight, I think—and some children, including a singularly -fascinating princess with the largest smile I ever saw. Every morning -the king came to my tent, showed me his goitre, asked for tobacco, and -sat with me an hour in silent esteem. As I was not then accustomed to -royalty, I was uncertain how three kings would behave themselves in -hospital life; but in spite of their rank and station, they were quite -good, and even smiled upon the religious services, feeling, no doubt, -as all the rich feel, that such things were beneficial for the lower -orders.</p> - -<p>On certain evenings the missionaries went out into the hospital camp to -sing and pray. They sat beside a log fire, which threw its light upon -the black or copper figures crowding round in a thick half-circle—big, -bony men, women shining with castor-oil, and swarms of children, hardly -visible but for a sudden gleam of eyes and teeth. The three invariable -hymns were duly sung—the chorus of the favorite being repeated -seventeen times without a pause, as I once counted, and even then -the people showed no sign of weariness. The woman next to me on that -occasion sang with conspicuous enthusiasm. She was young and beautiful. -Her mop of hair, its tufts solid with red mud, hung over her brow and -round her neck, dripping odors, dripping oil. Her bare, brown arms -jingled with copper bracelets, and at her throat she wore the section<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -of round white shell which is counted the most precious ornament of -all—“worth an ox,” they say. Her little cloth was dark blue with a -white pattern, and, squatted upon her heels, she held her baby between -her thighs, stuffing a long, pointed breast into his mouth whenever -he threatened to interrupt the music. For her whole soul was given to -the singing, and with wide-open mouth she poured out to the stars and -darkened forests the amazing words of the chorus:</p> - -<p class="p0"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">“Haleluyah! mwa aku kula,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jesu vene mwa aku sanga:”</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>There were two other lines, which I do not remember. The first line no -one could interpret to me. The second means, “Jesus really loves me.” -The other two said, “His blood will wash my black heart white.”</p> - -<p>To people brought up from childhood in close familiarity with words -like these there may be nothing astonishing about them. They have -unhappily become the commonplaces of Christianity, and excite no more -wonder than the sunrise. But I would give a library of theology to know -what kind of meaning that brown Chibokwe woman found in them as she sat -beside the camp-fire in the forest beyond the Hungry Country, and sang -them seventeen times over to her baby and the stars.</p> - -<p>When at last the singing stopped, one of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> missionaries began to -read. He chose the first chapter of St. John, and in that savage tongue -we listened to the familiar sentences, “In the beginning was the Word, -and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Again I looked -round upon that firelit group of naked barbarians. I remembered the -controversies of ages, the thinkers in Greek, the seraphic doctors, -the Byzantine councillors, the saints and sinners of the intellect, -Augustine in the growing Church, Faust in his study—all the great -and subtle spirits who had broken their thought in vain upon that -first chapter of St. John, and again I was filled with wonder. “For -Heaven’s sake, stop!” I felt inclined to cry. “What are these people -to understand by ‘the beginning’? What are we to understand by ‘the -Word’?” But when I looked again I recognized on all faces the mood of -stolid acquiescence with which congregations at home allow the same -words to pass over their heads year after year till they die as good -Christians. So that I supposed it did not matter.</p> - -<p>There seems to be a fascination to missionaries in St. John’s Gospel, -and, of course, that is no wonder. It is generally the first and -sometimes the only part of the New Testament translated, and I have -seen an old chief, who was diligently learning to read among a class -of boys, spelling out with his black fingers such words as, “I am -in the Father, and the Father in me.” No doubt it may be said<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> that -religion has no necessary connection with the understanding, but I -have sometimes thought it might be better to begin with something more -comprehensible, both to savages and ourselves.</p> - -<p>On points of this kind, of course, the missionaries may very well be -right, but in one thing they are wrong. Most of them still keep up the -old habit of teaching the early parts of the Old Testament as literal -facts of history. But if there is anything certain in human knowledge, -the Old Testament stories have no connection with the facts of history -at all. No one believes they have. No scholar, no man of science, -no theologian, no sane man would now think of accepting the Book of -Genesis as a literal account of what actually happened when the world -and mankind began to exist. Yet the missionaries continue to teach -it all to the natives as a series of facts. I have heard one of the -most experienced and influential of all the missionaries discussing -with his highest class of native teachers whether all Persons of the -Trinity were present at Eve’s temptation; and when one of them asked -what would have happened if Adam had refused to eat the apple, the -class was driven to suppose that in that case men would have remained -perfect, while women became as wicked as we see them now. It was a -doctrine very acceptable to the native mind, but to hear those rather -beautiful old stories still taught as the actual history of the world -makes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> one’s brain whirl. One feels helpless and confused and adrift -from reason, as when another missionary, whose name is justly famous, -told me that there were references to Moscow in Ezekiel, and Daniel had -exactly foretold the course of the Russo-Japanese war. The native has -enough to puzzle his brain as it is. On one side he has the Christian -ideal of peace and good-will, of temperance and poverty and honor and -self-sacrifice, and of a God who is love. And on the other side he -has somehow to understand the Christian’s contumely, the Christian’s -incalculable injustice, his cruelty and deceit, his insatiable greed -for money, his traffic in human beings whom the Christian calls God’s -children. When the native’s mind is hampered and entangled in questions -like these, no one has a right to increase his difficulties by telling -him to believe primitive stories which, as historical facts, are no -truer than the native’s own myths.</p> - -<p>But, happily, matters of intellectual belief have very little to do -with personality, and many good men have held unscientific views on -Noah’s Ark. Contrary to nearly all travellers and traders in Africa, -I have nothing but good to say of the missionaries and their work. I -have already mentioned the order of the Holy Spirit and their great -mission at Caconda. The same order has two other stations in South -Angola and a smaller station among the mountains of Bailundu, about two -hours distant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> from the fort and the American mission there. Its work -is marked by the same dignity and quiet devotion as marks the work of -all the orders wherever I have come across their outposts and places of -danger through the world. It is constantly objected that the Portuguese -have possessed this country for over four centuries, and have done -nothing for the improvement or conversion of the natives, and I bear in -mind those bishops of Loanda who sat on marble thrones upon the quay -christening the slaves in batches as they were packed off by thousands -to their misery in Cuba and Brazil. Both things are perfectly true. -The Portuguese are not a missionary people. I have not met any but -French, Alsatians, and Germans in the missions of the order out here. -But that need not in the least diminish our admiration of the missions -as they now are. Nor should we be too careful to remember the errors -and cruelties of any people or Church in the past, especially when we -reflect that England, which till quite lately was regarded as the great -foe of slavery all over the world, was also the originator of the slave -export, and that the supreme head of the Anglican Church was one of the -greatest slave-traders ever known.</p> - -<p>As to the scandals and sneers of traders, officials, and -gold-prospectors against the missions, let us pass them by. They are -only the weary old language of “the world.” They are like the sneers -of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> butchers and publicans at astronomy. They are the tribute of the -enemy, the assurance that all is not in vain. It would be unreasonable -to expect anything else, and dangerous to receive it. The only thing -that makes me hesitate about the work of the order is that many -traders and officials have said to me, “The Catholic missions are, -at all events, practical; they do teach the natives carpentering and -wagon-building and how to dig.” It is perfectly true and admirable, -and, as a matter of fact, the other missions do the same. But a mission -might teach its followers to make wagons enough for a Boer’s paradise -and doors enough for all the huts in Africa and still have failed of -its purpose.</p> - -<p>Besides the order of the Holy Spirit, there are two other notable -orders at work in Angola—the American mission (Congregationalist) -under the “American Board,” and the English mission (Plymouth Brethren) -under divine direction only. Each mission has four stations, and each -is about to start a new one. Some members of the English mission are -Americans, like the pioneers at Chinjamba, and all are on terms of -singular friendship, helping one another in every possible way, almost -like the followers of Christ. Of all sects that I have ever known, -these are the only two that I have heard pray for each other, and that -without condemnation—I mean they pray in a different spirit from -the Anglican prayer for Jews, Turks, infidels, and heretics.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> There -is another American order, called the Wesleyan Episcopalian, with -stations at Loanda and among the grotesque mountains of Pungo Ndongo. -English-speaking missionaries have now been at work in Loanda for -nearly twenty-five years, and some of the pioneers, such as <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Arnot, -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Currie, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stover, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Fay, and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Sanders, are still directing -the endeavor, with a fine stock of experience to guide them. They -have outlived much abuse; they have almost outlived the common charge -of political aims and the incitement of natives to rebellion, as in -1902. The government now generally leaves them alone. The Portuguese -rob them, especially on the steamers and in the customs, but then -the Portuguese rob everybody. Lately the American mission village at -Kamundongo in Bihé has been set on fire at night three or four times, -and about half of it burned down. But this appears to be the work of -one particular Portuguese trader, who has a spite against the mission -and sends his slaves from time to time to destroy it. An appeal to -the neighboring fort at Belmonte would, of course, be useless. If the -Chefe were to see justice done, the neighboring Portuguese traders -would at once lodge a complaint at Benguela or Loanda, and he would be -removed, as all Chefes are removed who are convicted of justice. But, -as a rule, the missions are now left very much to themselves by the -Portuguese, partly because the traders have found<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> out that some of the -missionaries—four at least—are by far the cleverest doctors in the -country, and nobody devotes his time to persecuting his doctor.</p> - -<p>As to the natives, it is much harder to judge their attitude. Their -name for a missionary is “afoola,” and though, I believe, the word -only means a man of learning, it naturally suggests an innocent -simplicity—something “a bit soft,” as we say. At first that probably -was the general idea, as was seen when M. Coillard, the great French -missionary of Barotzeland, had a big wash in his yard one afternoon, -and next Sunday preached to an enthusiastic congregation all dressed in -scraps of his own linen. And to some extent the feeling still exists. -There are natives who go to a mission village for what they can get, -or simply for a sheltered existence and kindly treatment. There are -probably a good many who experience religious convictions in order to -please, like the followers of any popular preacher at home. But, as -a rule, it is not comfort or gain, it is not persuasive eloquence or -religious conviction that draws the native. It is the two charms of -entire honesty and of inward peace. In a country where the natives -are habitually regarded as fair game for every kind of swindle and -deceit, where bargains with them are not binding, and where penalties -are multiplied over and over again by legal or illegal trickery, we -cannot overestimate the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> influence of men who do what they say, who -pay what they agree, and who never go back on their word. From end to -end of Africa common honesty is so rare that it gives its possessor a -distinction beyond intellect, and far beyond gold. In Africa any honest -man wins a conspicuous and isolated greatness. In twenty-five years the -natives of Angola have learned that the honesty of the missionaries -is above suspicion. It is a great achievement. It is worth all the -teaching of the alphabet, addition, and Old Testament history, no -matter how successful, and it is hardly necessary to search out any -other cause for the influence which the missionaries possess.</p> - -<p>So, as usual, it is the unconscious action that is the best. Being -naturally and unconsciously honest, the missionaries have won the -natives by honesty—have won, that is to say, the almost imperceptible -percentage of natives who happen to live in the three or four villages -near their stations; and it must be remembered that you might go -through Angola from end to end without guessing that missionaries -exist. But, apart from this unconscious influence, there are plenty -of conscious efforts too. There is the kindergarten, where children -puddle in clay and sing to movement and march to the tune of “John -Brown.” There are schools for every stage, and you may see the chief of -a village doing sums among the boys, and proudly declaring that for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -his part 3 + 0 + 1 shall equal five.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna5"><a href="#fn5">[5]</a></span> There are carpenters’ shops -and forges and brick-kilns and building classes and sewing classes for -men. There are Bible classes and prayer-meetings and church services -where six hundred people will be jammed into the room for four hundred, -and men sweat, and children reprove one another’s behavior, and babies -yell and splutter and suck, and when service is over the congregation -rush with their hymn-books to smack the mosquitoes on the walls and see -the blood spurt out. There are singing classes where hymns are taught, -and though the natives have nothing of their own that can be called a -tune, there is something horrible in the ease with which they pick up -the commonplace and inevitable English cadences. I once had a set of -carriers containing two or three mission boys, and after the first day -the whole lot “went Fantee” on “Home, Sweet Home,” just a little wrong. -For more than two years I have journeyed over Africa in peace and war, -but I have never suffered anything to compare to that fortnight of -“Home, Sweet Home,” just a little wrong, morning, noon, and night.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> -<p>All these methods of instruction and guidance are pursued in the -permanent mission stations, to say nothing of the daily medical service of healing and surgery, which -spreads the fame of the missions from village to village. Many -out-stations, conducted by the natives themselves, have been formed, -and they should be quickly increased, though it is naturally tempting -to keep the sheep safe within the mission fold. If the missionaries -were suddenly removed in a body, it is hard to say how long their -teaching or influence would survive. My own opinion is that every trace -of it would be gone in fifty or perhaps in twenty years. The Catholic -forms would probably last longest, because greater use is made of -a beautiful symbolism. But in half a century rum, slavery, and the -oppression of the traders would have wiped all out, and the natives -would sink into a far worse state than their original savagery. Whether -the memory of the missions would last even fifty years would depend -entirely upon the strength and number of the out-stations.</p> - -<p>In practical life, the three great difficulties which the missions have -to face are rum, polygamy, and slavery. From their own stations rum -can be generally excluded, though sometimes a village is persecuted -by a Portuguese trader because it will not buy his spirit. But the -whole country is fast degenerating owing to rum. “You see no fine old -men now,” is a constant saying. Rum kills them off. It is making the -whole people bloated and stupid. Near the coast it is worst, but the -enormous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> amount carried into the interior or manufactured in Bihé -is telling rapidly, and I see no hope of any change as long as rum -plantations of cane or sweet-potato pay better than any others, and -both traders and government regard the natives only as profitable swine.</p> - -<p>As a matter of argument, polygamy is a more difficult question still. -It is universally practiced in Africa, and no native man or woman has -ever had the smallest scruple of conscience or feeling of wrong about -it. Where the natives can observe white men, they see that polygamy is -in reality practiced among them too. If they came to Europe or America, -they would find it practiced, not by every person, but by every nation -under one guise or another. It seems an open question whether the -native custom, with its freedom from concealment and its guarantees -for woman’s protection and support, is not better than the secret and -hypocritical devices of civilization, under which only one of the -women concerned has any protection or guarantee at all, while a man’s -relation to the others is nearly always stealthy, cruel, and casual. -However, the missionaries, after long consideration, have decided to -insist upon the rule of one man one wife for members of their Churches, -and when I was at one station a famous Christian chief, Kanjumdu of -Chiuka—by far the most advanced and intelligent native I have ever -known—chose one wife out of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> his eight or ten, and married her with -Christian rites, while the greater part of his twenty-four living -children joined in the hymns. It was fine, but my sympathy was with -one of the rejected wives, who would not come to the wedding-feast and -refused to take a grain of meal or a foot of cloth from his hand ever -again.</p> - -<p>As to slavery, I have already spoken about the missionaries’ attitude. -They dare not say anything openly against it, because if they published -the truth they would probably be poisoned and certainly be driven out -of the country, leaving their followers exposed to a terrible and -exterminating persecution. So they help in what few special cases -they can, and leave the rest to time and others. It is difficult to -criticize men of such experience, devotion, and singleness of aim. -One must take their judgment. But at the same time one cannot help -remembering that a raging fire is often easier to deal with than a -smouldering refuse-heap, and that in spite of all the blood and sorrow, -the wildest revolution on behalf of justice has never really failed.</p> - -<p>But, as I said, it is hard for me to criticize the missionaries -out here. My opinion of them may be misguided by the extraordinary -kindliness which only traders and officials can safely resist, and I -suppose one ought to envy the reasonableness of such people when, after -enjoying the full hospitality<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> of the mission stations, they spend the -rest of their time in sneering at the missionaries. Nothing can surpass -mission hospitality. The stranger’s condition, poverty, or raggedness -does not matter in the least, nor does the mission’s own scarcity or -want. Whatever there is belongs to the strangers, even if nothing is -left but a dish of black beans and a few tea-leaves, used already. In -a long and wandering life I have nowhere found hospitality so complete -and ungrudging and unconscious. Only those who have lived for months -among the dirt and cursing of ox-wagons, or have tramped with savages -far through deserts wet and dry, plunged in slime or burned with -thirst, worn with fever and poisoned with starvation, could appreciate -what it means to come at last into a mission station and see the trim -thatched cottages, like an old English village, and to hear the quiet -and pleasant voices, and feel again the sense of inward peace, which, -I suppose, is the reward of holy living. How often when I have been -getting into bed the night after I have thus arrived, I have thought to -myself, “Here I am, free from hunger and thirst, in a silent room, with -a bed and real sheets, while people at home probably picture me dying -in the depths of a dismal forest where pygmies sharpen their poisoned -arrows and make their saucepans ready, or a lion stands rampant on one -side of me, and, on the other side, a unicorn.”</p> - - -<div class="footnotes p2"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn4"><a href="#fna4">[4]</a> Since this was written, the arbitration has been published (July, -1905), but by the new frontier I think none of the Chibokwe will be -brought under British influence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn5"><a href="#fna5">[5]</a> It must be a little difficult to teach arithmetic to a race whose -word for “seven” is “six and two” (<i>epandu-vali</i>), or “six over -again.” Or to teach dates where the word for “to-morrow” (<i>hena</i>) -is the same as the word for “yesterday.”</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII<br /> -<span class="small">THE SLAVE ROUTE TO THE COAST</span></h2> -</div> - - - -<p>After coming out from the interior by passing again through the Hungry -Country from the Zambesi basin to the Cuanza, I determined to continue -following the old slave route down to Benguela and the sea. I have -already spoken of this route as the main road of Central Africa, and -the two hundred and seventy or three hundred miles of it which connect -Bihé with the coast are crowded with trade, especially at the beginning -of the dry season, which was the time of my journey. It is only a -carrier’s track, though the Portuguese, as their habit is, have forced -the natives to construct a few miles of useless road here and there, -at intervals of several days’ march. But along that winding track, -sometimes so steep and difficult that it is like a goat-path in the -Alps, thousands of carriers pass every year, bearing down loads of -rubber and beeswax, and bringing back cotton, salt, tinned foods, and, -above all, rum. It is against the decree of the Brussels Conference of -1890 to introduce rum into Bihé at all, but who cares about decrees<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> -when rum pays and no one takes the trouble to shoot? And down this -winding track the export slaves have been driven century after century. -I suppose the ancestors of half the negroes in the United States -and of nearly all in Cuba and Brazil came down it. And thousands of -export slaves still come down it every year. Laws and conferences have -prohibited the slave-trade for generations past, but who cares about -laws and conferences as long as slavery pays and no one takes the -trouble to shoot?</p> - -<p>How the traffic is worked may be seen from some things which I observed -upon my way. Being obliged to wait at various places to arrange -carriers and recover from fevers, I spent about five weeks on the road -from the crossing of the Cuanza to the sea, though it can be done in -three weeks, or even in seventeen days. For the first few days I was -back again in the northern part of the Bihé district, and I early -passed the house of a Portuguese trader of whose reputation I had -heard before. He is still claiming enormous damages for injury to his -property in the war of 1902. The villagers have appealed to the fort at -Belmonte against the amount, but are ordered to pay whatever he asks. -To supply the necessary rubber and oxen they have now pawned their -children into slavery without hope of redemption. Two days before I -passed the house a villager, having pawned the last<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> of his children -and possessing nothing else, had shot himself in the bush close by. -Things like that make no difference to the trader. It is the money he -wants. The damage done to his property three years ago must be paid -for twentyfold. Still, he is not simply the “economic man” of the -old text-books. He has a decadent love of art, distinct from love of -money, and just before I passed his house he had summoned the chiefs -of the village as though for a conference, had locked them up in his -compound, and every night he was making the old men dance for his -pleasure. To the native mind such a thing is as shocking as it would -be to Englishmen if <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Beit or <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Eckstein kept the Lord Chancellor -and the Archbishop of Canterbury to gambol naked before him on Sunday -afternoons.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img018"> - <img src="images/018.jpg" class="w75" alt="ON THE WAY TO THE COAST" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">ON THE WAY TO THE COAST</p> - -<p class="p2">So the matter stands, and the villagers must go on selling more and -more of their wives and children that the white man’s greed may be -satisfied.</p> - -<p>A day or two farther on I turned aside from the main track to visit one -of the agents whom the government has specially appointed to conduct -the purchase of slaves for the islands of San Thomé and Principe. There -are two agents officially recognized in the Bihé district. On my way I -met an old native notorious for a prosperous career of slave-trading. -At the moment he was leading along a finely built man by a halter round -his neck, but at sight of me he dropped the end of rope. A man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> who -was with me charged him at once with having just sold two of his own -slaves—a man and a woman—for San Thomé. He protested with righteous -indignation. He would never think of doing such a thing! Sell for San -Thomé! He would even give a long piece of cloth to rescue a native from -such a fate! Yet, beyond question, he had sold the man and woman to the -Agent that morning. They were at the Agent’s house when I arrived, and -I was told he had only failed to sell the other slave because his price -was too high.</p> - -<p>The Agent himself was polite and hospitable. Business was pretty brisk. -I knew he had sent off eight slaves to the coast only three days -before, with orders that they should carry their own shackles and be -carefully pinned together at night. But we talked only of the rumored -division of the Congo, for on the other subject he was naturally a -little shy, and I found out long afterwards that he knew the main -object of my journey.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna6"><a href="#fn6">[6]</a></span> Next day, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> however, he was alone with the friend who had accompanied me, and he -then attempted to defend his position as Agent by saying the object -of the government was to buy up slaves through their special agents -and “redeem” them from slavery by converting them into “contract -laborers” for San Thomé. The argument was ingenious. The picture of -a pitiful government willing to purchase the freedom of all slaves -without thought of profit, and only driven to contract them for -San Thomé because otherwise the expense would be unbearable—it is -almost pathetic. But the Agent knew, as every one out here knows, -that the people whom the government buys and “redeems” have been torn -from their homes and families on purpose to be “redeemed”; that but -for the purchases by the government agents for San Thomé the whole -slave-traffic would fall to pieces; and that the actual condition of -these “contracted laborers” upon the islands does not differ from -slavery in any point of importance.</p> - -<p>Leaving on the right the volcanic district of North Bihé, with its -boiling springs and great deposits of magnesia, the path to the coast -continues to run westward and a point or two south through country -typical of Africa’s central plateau. There are the usual wind-swept -spaces of bog and yellow grass,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> the usual rolling lines of scrubby -forest, and the shallow valleys with narrow channels of water running -through morass. The path skirts the northern edge of the high, wet -plain of Bouru-Bouru, and on the same day, after passing this, I saw -far away in the west a little blue point of mountain, hanging like an -island upon the horizon. A few hours afterwards bare rock began to -appear through the bog-earth and sand of the forest, and next morning -new mountains came into sight from hour to hour as I advanced, till -there was quite a cluster of little blue islands above the dark edges -of the trees.</p> - -<p>The day after, when I had been walking for about two hours through -the monotonous woods, the upland suddenly broke. It was quick and -unexpected as the snapping of a bowstring, and far below me was -revealed a great expanse of country—broad valleys leading far away to -the west and north, isolated groups of many-colored mountains, bare and -shapely hills of granite and sandstone, and one big, jagged tooth or -pike of purple rock, rising sheer from a white plain thinly sprinkled -with trees and marked with watercourses. The whole scene, bare and -glowing under the cloudless sky of an African winter, was like those -delicate landscapes in nature’s most friendly wilderness which the -Umbrians used to paint as backgrounds to the Baptist or St. Jerome or -a Mother and Child. To one who has spent many months among the black -forest, the marshes and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> sand-hills of Bihé and the Hungry Country, it -gleams with a radiance of jewels, and is full of the inward stir and -longing that the sudden vision of mountains always brings.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna7"><a href="#fn7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<p>At the top of the hill was a large sweet-potato plantation for rum. A -gang of twenty-three slaves—chiefly women—was clearing a new patch -from the bush for an extension of the fields. Over them, as usual, -stood a Portuguese ganger, who encouraged their efforts with blows from -a long black chicote, or hippo whip, which he rapidly tried to conceal -down his trousers leg at sight of me.</p> - -<p>At the foot of the hill, where a copious stream of water ran, a similar -rum-factory had just been constructed. The hideous main building—gaunt -as a Yorkshire mill—the whitewashed rows of slave-huts, the newly -broken fields, the barrels just beginning to send out a loathsome -stench of new spirit—all were as fresh and vile as civilization could -make them. As we passed, the slaves were just enjoying a holiday for -the burial of one of their number who had died that morning. They were -gathered in a large crowd round the grave on the edge of the bush. -Presently six of them brought out the body, wrapped in an old blanket, -rolled it sideways into the shallow trench, and covered it up with -earth and stones. As we climbed the next hill, my carriers, who were much interested, kept saying to one another: -“Slaves! Poor slaves!” Then we heard a bell ring. The people began to -crawl back to their work. The slaves’ holiday was over.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> - - -<p>We had now passed from Bihé into the district of Bailundu, and the -mountains stood around us as we descended, their summits rising little -higher than the level of the Bihéan plateau—say five to six thousand -feet above the sea. A detached hill in front of us was conspicuous -for its fortified look. From the distance it was like one of the -castellated rocks of southern France. It was the old Umbala, or king’s -fortress, of Bailundu, and here the native kings used to live in savage -magnificence before the curse of the white men fell. On the summit you -still may see the king’s throne of three great rocks, the heading-stone -where his enemies suffered, the stone of refuge to which a runaway -might cling and gain mercy by declaring himself the king’s slave, the -royal tombs with patterned walls hidden in a depth of trees, and the -great flat rock where the women used to dance in welcome to their -warriors returning from victory. One day I scrambled up and saw it -all in company with a man who remembered the place in its high estate -and had often sat beside the king in judgment. But all the glory is -departed now. The palace was destroyed and burned in 1896. The rock of -refuge and the royal throne are grown over with tall grasses. Leopards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> -and snakes possess them merely, and it is difficult even to fight one’s -way up the royal ascent through the tangle of the creepers and bush.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna8"><a href="#fn8">[8]</a></span></p> - -<p>At the foot of the hill, within a square of ditch and rampart, stands -the Portuguese fort, the scene of the so-called “Bailundu war” of 1902. -It was here that the native rising began, owing to a characteristic -piece of Portuguese treachery, the Commandant having seized a party -of native chiefs who were visiting him, at his own invitation, under -promise of peace and safe-conduct. The whole affair was paltry and -wretched. The natives displayed their usual inability to combine; -the Portuguese displayed their usual cowardice. But, as I have shown -before, the effect of the outbreak was undoubtedly to reduce the -horrors of the slave-trade for a time. The overwhelming terror of the -slave-traders and other Portuguese, who crept into hiding to shelter -their precious lives, showed them they had gone too far. The atrocious -history of Portuguese cruelty and official greed which reached Lisbon -at last did certainly have some effect upon the national conscience. As -I have mentioned in earlier letters, Captain Amorim of the artillery -was sent out to mitigate the abominations of the trade, and for a time, -at all events, he succeeded. Owing to terror, the export of slaves to -San Thomé ceased altogether <span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span>for about six months after the rising. It has gone back to its old -proportions now—the numbers averaging about four thousand head a year -(not including babies), and gradually rising.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna9"><a href="#fn9">[9]</a></span> But since then the -traders have not dared to practise the same open cruelties as before, -and the new regulations for slave-traffic—known as the Decree of -January 29, 1903—do, at all events, aim at tempering the worst abuses, -though their most important provisions are invariably evaded.</p> - -<p>Only a mile or two from the fort, and quite visible from the rocks of -the old Umbala, stands the American mission village of Bailundu—I -believe the oldest mission in Angola except the early Jesuits’. It was -founded in 1881, and for more than twenty years has been carried on by -<abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Stover and <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Fay, who are still conducting it. The Portuguese -instigated the natives to drive them out once, and have wildly accused -them of stirring up war, protecting the natives, and other crimes. But -the mission has prospered in spite of all, and its village is now, I -think, the prettiest in Angola. How long it may remain in its present -beautiful situation one cannot say. Twenty years ago it was surrounded <span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span>only by natives, but now the Portuguese have crept up to it with their -rum and plantations and slavery, and where the Portuguese come neither -natives nor missions can hope to stay long. It may be that in a year or -two the village will be deserted, as the American mission village of -Saccanjimba, a few days farther east, has lately been deserted, and the -houses will be occupied by Portuguese convicts with a license to trade, -while the church becomes a rum-store. In that case the missionaries -will be wise to choose a place outside the fifty-kilometre radius from -a fort, beyond which limit no Portuguese trader may settle. So true it -is that in modern Africa an honest man has only the whites to fear. But -unhappily new forts are now being constructed at two or three points -along this very road.</p> - - -<p>Soon after leaving Bailundu the track divides, and one branch of it -runs northwest, past the foot of that toothed mountain, or pike,<span class="fnanchor" id="fna10"><a href="#fn10">[10]</a></span> -and so at length reaches the coast at Novo Redondo—a small place -with a few sugar-cane plantations for rum and a government agency for -slaves. I am told that on this road the slaves are worse treated and -more frequently shackled than upon the path I followed, and certainly -Novo Redondo is more secret and freer from the interference of -foreigners than Benguela. But I think there cannot really be much difference. The majority of slaves are still brought down the old -Benguela route, and scattered along it at intervals I have found quite -new shackles, still used for pinning the slaves together, chiefly at -night, though it is true the shackles near the coast are not nearly so -numerous as in the interior.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> - - -<p>I was myself determined to follow the old track and come down to the -sea by that white path where I had seen the carriers ascending and -descending the mountains above Katumbella many months before. Within -two days from Bailundu I entered a notorious lion country. Lions are -increasing rapidly all along the belt of mountains here, and they do -not hesitate to eat mankind, making no prejudiced distinction between -white and black. Their general method is to spring into a rest-hut -at night and drag off a carrier, or sometimes two, while the camp is -asleep. All the rest-camps in this district are strongly stockaded with -logs, twelve or fourteen feet high, but carriers are frequently killed -in spite of all the stockade. There is one old lion who has made quite -a reputation as a man-hunter, and if he had an ancestral hall he could -decorate it with the “trophies” of about fifty human heads. He has -chosen for his hunting-lodge some cave near the next fort westward from -Bailundu, and there at eve he may sometimes be seen at play upon the -green. Two officers are stationed in the fort, but <span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span>they do not care -to interfere with the creature’s habits and pursuits. They do not even -train their little toy gun on him. Perhaps they are humanitarians. So -he devours mankind at leisure.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img019"> - <img src="images/019.jpg" class="w75" alt="CARRIERS’ REST-HUTS" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">CARRIERS’ REST-HUTS</p> - -<p class="p2">When we camped near that fort, my boys insisted I should sleep in -a hut inside the stockade instead of half a mile away from them as -usual. The huts are made of dry branches covered with dry leaves and -grass. Inside that stockade I counted over forty huts, and each hut was -crammed with carriers—men, women, and children—for the dry-season -trade was beginning. There must have been five or six hundred natives -in that camp at night. The stockade rose fourteen feet or more and was -impenetrable. The one gate was sealed and barred with enormous logs -to keep out the lion. I was myself given a hut in the very centre of -the camp as an honor. And in every single hut around me a brilliant -fire was lighted for cooking and to keep the carriers warm all night. -One spark gone wrong would have burned up the whole five hundred of us -without a chance of escape. So when we came to the stockaded camp of -the next night I pitched my tent far outside it as usual, and listened -to the deep sighing and purring of the lions with great indifference, -while the boys marvelled at a rashness which was nothing to their own.</p> - -<p>As one goes westward farther into the mountains, the path drops two -or three times by sudden, steep descents, like flights of steps down -terraces, and at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> each descent the air becomes closer and the plants -and beasts more tropical, till one reaches the deep valleys of the -palm, the metallic butterfly, and thousands of yellow monkeys. Beside -the route great masses of granite rise, weathered into smooth and -unclimbable surface, like the Matopo hills. The carriers from the -high interior suffer a good deal at each descent. “We have lost our -proper breathing,” they say, and they pine till they return to the -clearer air. It is here that many of the slaves try to escape. If they -got away, there would not be much chance for them among the shy and -apelike natives of the mountain belt, who remain entirely savage and -are reputed to be cannibal still. But the slaves try to escape, and are -generally brought back to a fate worse than being killed and eaten. On -May 17th, five days above Katumbella, I met one of them who had been -caught. He was a big Luvale man, naked, his skin torn and bleeding from -his wild rush through thorns and rocks. In front and behind him marched -one of his owner’s slaves with drawn knives or matchets, two feet long, -ready to cut him down if he tried to run again. I asked my boys what -would happen to him, and they said he would be flogged to death before -the others. I cannot say. I should have thought he was too valuable to -kill. He must have been worth over £20 as he stood, and £30 when landed -at San Thomé. But, of course, the trader may have thought it would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> -pay better to flog him to death as an example. True, it is not always -safe to kill a slave. Last April a man in Benguela flogged a slave to -death with a hippo whip, and, no doubt to his great astonishment, he -found himself arrested and banished for a time to Mozambique—“the -other coast,” as it is called—a far from salubrious home. But five -days’ inland along the caravan route the murderer of a slave would be -absolutely secure, if he did not mind the loss of the money.</p> - -<p>Two days later I met another of those vast caravans of natives, one -of which I had seen just the other side of the Cuanza. This caravan -numbered nearly seven hundred people, and, under the protection of an -enormous Portuguese banner, they were marching up into the interior -with bales and stores, wives and children, intending to be absent -at least two years for trade. These large bodies of men are a great -source of supply to the government slave-agents; for when they find two -tribes at war, they hire themselves out to fight for one on condition -of selling the captives from the other, and so they secure an immense -profit for themselves, while pleasing their allies and bringing an -abundance of slaves for the Portuguese government to “redeem” by -sending them to labor at San Thomé till their lives end.</p> - -<p>The next day’s march brought us to a straight piece of valley, where -such a number of rest-huts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> have been gradually built that the place -looks like a large native village. All the little paths from the -interior meet here, because it stands at the mouth of a long and very -deep valley, sometimes called the cañon, by which alone the next belt -of dry and mountainous country can be crossed. The water is dirty and -full of sulphur, but it has to be carried in gourds for the next day’s -march, because for twenty-five miles there is no water at all.</p> - -<p>Natives here come down from the nearest villages and sell -sweet-potatoes and maize to the carriers in exchange for salt and chips -of tobacco or sips of rum, so that at this season, when the carriers -every night number a thousand or more, there is something like a fair. -Mixed up with the carriers are the small gangs of slaves, who are -collected here in larger parties before being sent on to the coast.</p> - -<p>With the help of one of my boys I had some conversation that evening -with a woman who was kept waiting for other gangs, just as I was kept -waiting because fever made me too weak to move. She was a beautiful -woman of about twenty or little more, with a deep-brown skin and a face -of much intelligence, full of sorrow. She had come from a very long way -off, she said—far beyond the Hungry Country. She thought four moons -had gone since they started. She had a husband and three children at -home, but was seized by the men of another tribe and sold to a white -man for twenty cartridges.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> She did not know what kind of cartridges -they were—they were “things for a gun.” Her last baby was very young, -very young. She was still suckling him when they took her away. She -did not know where she was going. She supposed it was to Okalunga—a -name which the natives use equally for hell or the abyss of death, -the abyss of the sea and for San Thomé. She was perfectly right. She -was one of the slaves who had been purchased, probably on the Congo -frontier, on purpose for the Portuguese government’s agent to “redeem” -and send to the plantations. It is a lucrative business to supply -such philanthropists with slaves. And it is equally lucrative for the -philanthropists to redeem them.</p> - -<p>The long, dry cañon, where the carriers have to climb like goats -from rock to rock along the steep mountain-side, with fifty or sixty -pounds on their heads, brought us at last to a brimming reach of the -Katumbella River. It is dangerous both from hippos and crocodiles; -though the largest crocodiles I have ever seen were lower down the -river, on the sand-banks close to its mouth, where they devour women -and cattle, and lie basking all their length of twenty to thirty feet, -just like the dragons of old. From the river the path mounts again for -the final day’s march through an utterly desert and waterless region of -mountain ridges and stones and sand, sprinkled with cactus and aloes -and a few gray<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> thorns. But, like all this mountain region, the desert -gives ample shelter to eland, koodoo, and other deer. Buffaloes live -there, too, and in very dry seasons they come down at night to drink at -the river pools close to the sea.</p> - -<p>The sea itself is hidden from the path by successive ridges of mountain -till the very last edge is reached. On the morning of my last day’s -trek a heavy, wet mist lay over all the valleys, and it was only -when we climbed that we could see the mountain-tops, rising clear -above it in the sunshine. But before mid-day the mist had gone, and, -looking back from a high pass, I had my last view over the road we had -travelled, and far away towards the interior of the strange continent -I was leaving. Then we went on westward, and climbed the steep and -rocky track over the final range, till at last a great space of varied -prospect lay stretched out below us—the little houses of Katumbella -at our feet, the fertile plain beside its river green with trees and -plantations; on our right the white ring of Lobito Bay, Angola’s -future port; on our left a line of yellow beach like a road leading -to the little white church and the houses of Benguela, fifteen miles -away; and beyond them again to the desert promontory, with grotesque -rocks. And there, far away in front, like a vast gulf of dim and misty -blue, merging in the sky without a trace of horizon, stretched the sea -itself; and to an Englishman the sea is always the way home.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> - -<p>So, as I had hoped, I came down at last from the mountains into -Katumbella by that white path which has been consecrated by so much -misery. And as I walked through the dimly lighted streets and beside -the great court-yards of the town that night, I heard again the blows -of the palmatoria and chicote and the cries of men and women who were -being “tamed.”</p> - -<p>“I do not trouble to beat my slaves much—I mean my contracted -laborers,” said the trader who was with me. “If they try to run away or -anything, I just give them one good flogging, and then sell them to the -Agent for San Thomé. One can always get £16 per head from him.”</p> - -<p>A few days afterwards, on the Benguela road, I passed a procession of -forty-three men and women, marching in file like carriers, but with no -loads on their heads. Four natives in white coats and armed with guns -accompanied them, ready to shoot down any runaway. The forty-three were -a certain company’s detachment of “voluntary laborers” on their way to -the head “Emigration Agent” at Benguela and to the ship for San Thomé. -Third among them marched that woman who had been taken from her husband -and three children and sold for twenty cartridges.</p> - -<p>Thus it is that the islands of San Thomé and Principe have been -rendered about the most profitable bits of the earth’s surface, and -England and America can get their chocolate and cocoa cheap.</p> - - -<div class="footnotes p2"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn6"><a href="#fna6">[6]</a> I am not quite sure how this was discovered—whether an indiscreet -friend “gave me away,” or whether an indiscreet letter was opened in -the post, or the traders were simply guided by conjecture and a guilty -conscience. At all events, one of the principal slave-dealers in Bihé -discovered it, and took the pains to publish reports against me, that -reached as far as Mossamedes. The English and American missions were -actually warned to have nothing to do with me because I was a Jesuit -in disguise, and had come to destroy their work! Further on I may have -to refer to the plots to assassinate me on the coast during the voyage -home, but I mention these little personal matters only to show that the -slave-traders had been put on their guard and would naturally try to -conceal as much as they could of their traffic’s horror, and that is -the chief reason why I met no gangs of slaves in chains.</p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn7"><a href="#fna7">[7]</a> See Commander Cameron’s description of the same view in 1876: -<i>Across Africa</i>, p. 459.</p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn8"><a href="#fna8">[8]</a> Cameron visited King Congo there in 1876: <i>Across Africa</i>, p. -460.</p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn9"><a href="#fna9">[9]</a> The official numbers of slaves exported to San Thomé for the first -four months of 1905 are: January, 369; February, 349; March, 366; -April, 302—a rate which would give a total of 4158 for the year. In -June I travelled by a ship which took 273 slaves to San Thomé and -Principe, and there are two slave-ships a month.</p> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn10"><a href="#fna10">[10]</a> Cameron called it “The Devil’s Finger”: <i>Across Africa</i>, p. -464.</p></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX<br /> -<span class="small">THE EXPORTATION OF SLAVES</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>When I was up in the interior, I had always intended to wait a while -on the coast, if ever I should reach it again, in order to watch -the process of the conversion of slaves into “contracted laborers” -according to law. So it was fortunate that, owing to the delays of -fevers and carriers, I succeeded in just missing a steamer bound for -San Thomé and home. Fortunate, because the temptation to go straight on -board would have been very strong, since I was worn with sickness, and -within two days of reaching Katumbella I learned that special dangers -surrounded me, owing to the discovery of my purpose by the Portuguese -traders. As a matter of fact, I might have caught the ship by pushing -my carriers on without a pause, but the promptings of conscience, -supported by a prospect of the best crocodile-shooting that man can -enjoy, induced me to run the risk of assassination and stay.</p> - -<p>So I stayed on the coast for nearly three weeks, seeing what I could, -hunting crocodiles, and devising schemes for getting my papers home -even if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> I should never reach home myself. One of the first things -I saw was a procession of slaves who had just been “redeemed” into -“contracted laborers,” and were being marched off in the early morning -sunlight from Katumbella to Lobito Bay, there to be embarked for San -Thomé on the ship which I had missed.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna11"><a href="#fn11">[11]</a></span> It so happened that this -ship put in at Lobito Bay, which lies only some eight miles north from -Katumbella down a waterless spit of sand, as I have before described, -and there can be no doubt that this practice will become more and more -common as the railway from the new port progresses. Katumbella, united -with the bay, will become the main depot for the exportation of slaves -and other merchandise, while Benguela, having no natural harbor, will -gradually fall to ruin. At present, I suppose, the government Agent for -slaves at Benguela, together with the Curador, whose act converts them -into contract laborers, comes over for the occasion whenever the slaves -are to be shipped from Lobito Bay, just as in England a bishop travels from place to -place for Confirmations as required.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> - -<p>Bemused with a parting dole of rum, bedecked in brilliantly striped -jerseys, grotesque caps, and flashy loin-cloths to give them a moment’s -pleasure, the unhappy throng were escorted to their doom, the tin -tickets with their numbers and the tin cylinders with their form of -contract glittering round their necks or at their sides. Men and -women were about equal in number, and some of the women carried babes -lashed to their backs; but there were no older children. The causes -which had brought these men and women to their fate were probably as -different as the lands from which they came. Some had broken native -customs or Portuguese laws, some had been charged with witchcraft by -the medicine-man because a relative died, some could not pay a fine, -some were wiping out an ancestral debt, some had been sold by uncles in -poverty, some were the indemnity for village wars; some had been raided -on the frontier, others had been exchanged for a gun; some had been -trapped by Portuguese, others by Bihéan thieves; some were but changing -masters, because they were “only good for San Thomé,” just as we in -London send an old cab-horse to Antwerp. I cannot give their history. I -only know that about two hundred of them, muddled with rum and bedecked -like clowns, passed along that May<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> morning to a land of doom from -which there was no return.</p> - -<p>It was June 1st when, as I described in my last letter, I met that -other procession of slaves on their way from Katumbella to Benguela, -in readiness for embarkation in the next ship, which did not happen to -stop at Lobito Bay. It was a smaller gang—only forty-three men and -women—for it was the result of only one Agent’s activity, though, to -be sure, he was the leading and most successful Agent in Angola. They -marched under escort, but without loads and without chains, though the -old custom of chaining them together along that piece of road is still -commonly practised—I suppose because the fifteen miles of country -through which the road leads, when once the small slave-plantations -round Katumbella have been passed, is a thorny desert where a runaway -might easily hide, hoping to escape by sea or find cover in the towns. -I have myself seen the black soldiers or police searching the bush -there for fugitives, and once I found a Portuguese dying of fever -among the thorns, to which he had fled from what is roughly called -justice.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna12"><a href="#fn12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>By the time I saw that second procession I was myself living in -Benguela, and was able to follow <span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span>the slave’s progress almost point by point, in spite of the -uncomfortable suspicion with which I was naturally regarded. Writing -of the town before, I mentioned the large court-yards with which -nearly every house is surrounded—memorials of the old days when this -was the central depot for the slave-trade with Brazil. In most cases -these court-yards are now used as resting-places for the free carriers -who have brought products from the interior and are waiting till the -loads of cloth and rum are ready for the return journey. But the -trading-houses that go in for business in “<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>” still put the -court-yards to their old purpose, and confine the slaves there till it -is time to get them on board.</p> - -<p>A day or two before the steamer is due to depart a kind of ripple -seems to pass over the stagnant town. Officials stir, clerks begin -to crawl about with pens, the long, low building called the Tribunal -opens a door or two, a window or two, and looks quite busy. Then, -early one morning, the Curador arrives and takes his seat in the long, -low room as representing the beneficent government of Portugal. Into -his presence the slaves are herded in gangs by the official Agent. -They are ranged up, and in accordance with the Decree of January 29, -1903, they are asked whether they go willingly as laborers to San -Thomé. No attention of any kind is paid to their answer. In most -cases no answer is given. Not the slightest notice would be taken of -a refusal.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> The legal contract for five years’ labor on the island -of San Thomé or Principe is then drawn out, and, also in accordance -with the Decree, each slave receives a tin disk with his number, the -initials of the Agent who secured him, and in some cases, though not -usually at Benguela, the name of the island to which he is destined. -He also receives in a tin cylinder a copy of his register, containing -the year of contract, his number and name, his birthplace, his chief’s -name, the Agent’s name, and “observations,” of which last I have never -seen any. Exactly the same ritual is observed for the women as for the -men. The disks are hung round their necks, the cylinders are slung at -their sides, and the natives, believing them to be some kind of fetich -or “white man’s Ju-ju,” are rather pleased. All are then ranged up and -marched out again, either to the compounds, where they are shut in, or -straight to the pier where the lighters, which are to take them to the -ship, lie tossing upon the waves.</p> - -<p>The climax of the farce has now been reached. The deed of pitiless -hypocrisy has been consummated. The requirements of legalized slavery -have been satisfied. The government has “redeemed” the slaves which -its own Agents have so diligently and so profitably collected. They -went into the Tribunal as slaves, they have come out as “contracted -laborers.” No one in heaven or on earth can see the smallest -difference, but by the change<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> of name Portugal stifles the enfeebled -protests of nations like the English, and by the excuse of law she -smooths her conscience and whitens over one of the blackest crimes -which even Africa can show.</p> - -<p>Before I follow the slaves on board, I must raise one uncertain -point about the Agents. I am not quite sure on what principle they -are paid. According to the Decree of 1903, they are appointed by the -local committee in San Thomé, consisting of four officials and three -planters, chosen by the central government Committee of Emigration in -Lisbon. The local committee has to fix the payment due to each Agent, -and of course the payment is ultimately made by the planters, who -requisition the local committee for as many slaves as they require, -and pay in proportion to the number they receive. Now a planter in San -Thomé gives from £26 to £30 for a slave delivered on his plantation in -good condition. The Agent at Benguela will give £16 for any healthy -man or woman brought to him, but he rarely goes up to £20. From this -considerable profit balance of £10 to £14 per head there are, it is -true, certain deductions to be made. By the Decree, each Agent has to -pay the government £100 deposit before he sets up in the slave-dealing -business, and most probably he recoups himself out of the profits. For -his license he has to pay the government two shillings a slave (with -a minimum payment of £10 a year). Also to the government<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> he pays £1 -per slave in stamp duty, and six shillings on the completion of each -contract. He has further to pay a tax of six shillings per slave to the -port of landing, and from the balance of profit we must also deduct -the slave’s fare on the steamer from Benguela to San Thomé. This, I -believe, is £2—a sum which goes to enrich the happy shareholders in -the “Empreza Nacional,” who last year (1904) received twenty-two per -cent. on their money as profit from the slave-ships. Then the captain -of the steamer gets four shillings and the doctor two shillings for -every slave landed alive, and, on an average, only four slaves per -hundred die on the voyage, which takes about eight days. There are -probably other deductions to be made. The Curador will get something -for his important functions. There are stories that the commandants of -certain forts still demand blackmail from the processions of slaves as -they go by. I was definitely told that the commandant of a fort very -near to Benguela always receives ten shillings a head, but I cannot say -if that is true.</p> - -<p>In any case, at the very lowest, there is £4 to be deducted for fare, -taxes, etc., from the apparent balance of £10 to £14 per slave. But -even then the profit on each man or woman sold is considerable, and the -point that I am uncertain about is whether the Agent at Benguela and -his deputies in Novo Redondo and Bihé pocket all the profit they can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -possibly make, or are paid a fixed proportion of the average profits -by the local committee at San Thomé. The latter would be in accordance -with the Decree; the other way more in accordance with Portuguese -methods.</p> - -<p>Unhappily I was not able to witness the embarkation of the slaves -myself, as I had been poisoned the night before and was suffering all -day from violent pain and frequent collapse, accompanied by extreme -cold in the limbs.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna13"><a href="#fn13">[13]</a></span> So that when, late in the evening, I crawled on -board at last, I found the slaves already in their place on the ship. -We were taking only one hundred and fifty of them from Benguela, but we -gathered up other batches as we went along, so that finally we reached -a lucrative cargo of two hundred and seventy-two (not counting babies), -and as only two of them died in the week, we landed two hundred and -seventy safely on the islands. This was perhaps rather a larger number -than usual, for the steamers, which play the part of mail-boats and -slave-ships both, go twice a month, and the number of slaves exported -by them yearly has lately averaged a little under four thousand, though -the numbers are increasing, as I showed in my last letter.</p> - -<p>The slaves are, of course, kept in the fore part of the ship. All day -long they lie about the lower deck, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span>among the horses, mules, cattle, sheep, monkeys, and other live-stock; -or they climb up to the fo’c’s’le deck in hopes of getting a little -breeze, and it is there that the mothers chiefly lie beside their tiny -babies. There is nothing to do. Hardly any one speaks, and over the -faces of nearly all broods the look of dumb bewilderment that one sees -in cattle crowded into trucks for the slaughter-market. Twice a day -rations of mealy pap or brown beans are issued in big pots. Each pot -is supplied with ten wooden spoons and holds the food for ten slaves, -who have to get as much of it as each can manage. The first-class -passengers, leaning against the rail of the upper deck, look down upon -the scene with interest and amusement. To them those slaves represent -the secret of Portugal’s greatness—such greatness as Portugal has.</p> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img020"> - <img src="images/020.jpg" class="w75" alt="ALL DAY LONG THEY LIE ABOUT THE LOWER DECK" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">“ALL DAY LONG THEY LIE ABOUT THE LOWER DECK”</p> - -<p class="p2">At sunset they are herded into a hold, the majority going down the -hatchway stairs on their hands and knees. There they spread their -sleeping-mats, and the hatch is shut down upon them till the following -morning. By the virtuous Decree of 1903, which regulates the transport, -“the emigrants [i.e., the slaves] shall be separated according to sex -into completely isolated compartments, and may not sleep on deck, nor -resume conjugal relations before leaving the ship.” Certainly the -slaves do not sleep on deck, but as to the other clauses I have seen -no attempt to carry out the regulations, except<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> such measures as the -slaves take themselves by dividing the hold between men and women. -It may seem strange, but all my observation has shown me that, in -spite of nakedness and the absence of shame in most natural affairs -of existence, the natives are far more particular about the really -important matters of sex than civilized people are; just as most -animals are far more particular, and for the same reasons. I mean that -for them the difference of sex is mainly a matter of livelihood and -child-getting, not of casual debauchery.</p> - -<p>Even a coast trader said to me one evening, as we were looking down -into the hold where the slaves were arranging their mats, “What a -different thing if they were white people!”</p> - -<p>The day after leaving Benguela we stopped off Novo Redondo to take on -more cargo. The slaves came off in two batches—fifty in the morning -and thirty more towards sunset. There was a bit of a sea on that day, -and the tossing of the lighter had made most of the slaves very sick. -Things became worse when the lighter lay rising and falling with the -waves at the foot of the gangway, and the slaves had to be dragged up -to the platform one by one like sacks, and set to climb the ladder as -best they could. I remember especially one poor woman who held in her -arms a baby only two or three days old. Quickly as native women recover -from childbirth, she had hardly recovered, and was very sea-sick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -besides. In trying to reach the platform, she kept on missing the rise -of the wave, and was flung violently back again into the lighter. At -last the men managed to haul her up and set her on the foot of the -ladder, striking her sharply to make her mount. Tightening the cloth -that held the baby to her back, and gathering up her dripping blanket -over one arm, she began the ascent on all-fours. Almost at once her -knees caught in the blanket and she fell flat against the sloping -stairs. In that position she wriggled up them like a snake, clutching -at each stair with her arms above her head. At last she reached the -top, bruised and bleeding, soaked with water, her blanket lost, most -of her gaudy clothing torn off or hanging in strips. On her back the -little baby, still crumpled and almost pink from the womb, squeaked -feebly like a blind kitten. But swinging it round to her breast, the -woman walked modestly and without complaint to her place in the row -with the others.</p> - -<p>I have heard many terrible sounds, but never anything so hellish as the -outbursts of laughter with which the ladies and gentlemen of the first -class watched that slave woman’s struggle up to the deck.</p> - -<p>When all the slaves were on board at last, a steward or one of the -ship’s officers mustered them in a row, and the ship’s doctor went -down the line to perform the medical examination, in accordance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> with -Chapter VI. of the Decree, enacting that no diseased or infectious -person shall be accepted. It is entirely to the doctor’s interest to -foster the health of the slaves, for, as I have already mentioned, -every death loses him two shillings. As a rule, as I have said, he -loses four per cent. of his cargo, or two dollars out of every possible -fifty. On this particular voyage, however, he was more fortunate, for -only two slaves out of the whole number died during the week, and were -thrown overboard during the first-class breakfast-hour, so that the -feelings of the passengers might not be harrowed.</p> - -<p>Next day after leaving Novo Redondo we reached Loanda and increased our -cargo by forty-two men and women, all tricked out in the most amazing -tartan plaids—the tartans of Israel in the Highlands. This made up -our total number of two hundred and seventy-two, not reckoning babies, -which, unhappily, I did not count. Probably there were about fifty. I -think neither the captain nor the doctor receives any percentage for -landing babies alive, but, of course, if they live to grow up on the -plantations, which is very seldom, they become even more valuable than -the imported adults, and the planter gets them gratis.</p> - -<p>Early next morning, when we were anchored off Ambriz, a commotion -suddenly arose on board, and the rumor ran that one of the slaves had -jumped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> into the sea from the bow. Soon we could see his black head -as he swam clear of the ship and struck out southwards, apparently -trusting to the current to bear him towards the coast. For he was a -native of a village near Ambriz and knew what he was about. It was -yearning at the sight of his own land that made him run the risk. The -sea was full of sharks, and I could only hope that they might devour -him before man could seize him again. Already a boat had been hastily -dropped into the water and was in pursuit, manned by two black men and -a white. They rowed fast over the oily water, and the swimmer struggled -on in vain. The chase lasted barely ten minutes and they were upon -him. Leaning over the side of the boat, they battered him with oars -and sticks till he was quiet. Then they dragged him into the boat, -laid him along the bottom, and stretched a piece of old sail over his -nakedness, that the ladies might not be shocked. He was brought to the -gangway and dragged, dripping and trembling, up the stairs. The doctor -and the government Agent, who accompanies each ship-load of slaves, -took him down into the hold, and there he was chained up to a post or -staple so that he might cause no trouble again. “Flog him! Flog him! -A good flogging!” cried the passengers. “Boa chicote!” I have not the -slightest doubt he was flogged without mercy, but if so, it was kept -secret—an unnecessary waste of pleasure, for the passengers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> would -thoroughly have enjoyed both the sight and sound of the lashing. The -comfortable and educated classes in all nations appear not to have -altered in the least since the days when the comfortable and educated -classes of Paris used to arrange promenades to see the Communards shot -in batches against a wall. They may whine and blubber over imaginary -sufferings in novels and plays, but touch their comfort, touch their -property—they are rattlesnakes then!</p> - -<p>We stopped at Cabinda in the Portuguese territory north of the Congo, -and at one or two other trading-places on the coast, and then we put -out northwest for the islands. On the eighth day after leaving Benguela -we came in sight of San Thomé. Over it the sky was a broken gray of -drifting rain-clouds. Only now and again we could see the high peaks -of the mountains, which run up to seven thousand feet. The valleys at -their base were shrouded in the pale and drizzling mists which hang -about them almost continually. Here and there a rounded hill, indigo -with forest, rose from the mists and showed us the white house of some -plantation and the little cluster of out-buildings and huts where the -slaves were to find their new home. Then, as on an enchanted island, -the ghostly fog stole over it again, and in another quarter some fresh -hill, indigo with forest, stood revealed.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img021"> - <img src="images/021.jpg" class="w75" alt="THE WOMEN HARDLY STIRRED AS WE APPROACHED SAN THOMÉ" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">THE WOMEN HARDLY STIRRED AS WE APPROACHED SAN THOMÉ</p> - -<p class="p2">The whole place smoked and steamed like a gigantic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> hot-house. In -fact, it is a gigantic hot-house. As nearly as possible, it stands upon -the equator, the actual line passing through the volcanic rocks of its -southern extremity. And even in the dry season from April to October -it is perpetually soaked with moisture. The wet mist hardly ceases to -hang among the hills and forest trees. The thick growth of the tropics -covers the mountains almost to their summits, and every leaf of verdure -drips with warm dew.</p> - -<p>The slaves on deck regarded the scene with almost complete apathy. -Some of the men leaned against the bulwark and silently watched the -points of the island as we passed. The women hardly stirred from their -places. They were occupied with their babies as usual, or lay about in -the unbroken wretchedness of despair. Two girls of about fifteen or -sixteen, evidently sisters, whom I had before noticed for a certain -pathetic beauty, now sat huddled together hand-in-hand, quietly crying. -They were just the kind of girls that the planters select for their -concubines, and I have little doubt they are the concubines of planters -now. But they cried because they feared they would be separated when -they came to land.</p> - -<p>In the confusion of casting anchor I stood by them unobserved, and in -a low voice asked them a few questions in Umbundu, which I had crammed -up for the purpose. The answers were brief, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> sobbing whispers; -sometimes by gestures only. The conversation ran like this:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Why are you here?”</p> - -<p>“We were sold to the white men.”</p> - -<p>“Did you come of your own free will?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not.”</p> - -<p>“Where did you come from?”</p> - -<p>“From Bihé.”</p> - -<p>“Are you slaves or not?”</p> - -<p>“Of course we are slaves!”</p> - -<p>“Would you like to go back?”</p> -</div> - -<p>The delicate little brown hands were stretched out, palms downward, and -the crying began afresh.</p> - -<p>That night the slaves were left on board, but next morning (June 17th) -when I went down to the pier about nine o’clock, I found them being -landed in two great lighters. One by one the men and women were dragged -up on to the pier by their arms and loin-cloths and dumped down like -bales of goods. There they sat in four lines till all were ready, and -then, carrying their mats and babies, they were marched off in file -to the Curador’s house in the town beside the bay. Here they were -driven through large iron gates into a court-yard and divided up into -gangs according to the names of the planters who had requisitioned for -them. When the parties were complete, they were put under the charge -of gangers belonging to various plantations, and so they set out on -foot upon the last stage of their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> journey. When they reached their -plantation (which would usually be on the same day or the next, for the -island is only thirty-five miles long by fifteen broad) they would be -given a day or two for rest, and then the daily round of labor would -begin. For them there are no more journeyings, till that last short -passage when their dead bodies are lashed to poles and carried out to -be flung away in the forest.</p> - - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img022"> - <img src="images/022.jpg" class="w50" alt="LINED UP ON THE PIER AT SAN THOMÉ" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">LINED UP ON THE PIER AT SAN THOMÉ</p> - - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p class="p2"><span class="smcap">Note.</span>—I have no direct evidence that the poison was given me -intentionally, but the “cumulative” evidence is rather strong. While -still in the interior I had been warned that the big slave-dealers had -somehow got to know of my purpose and were plotting against me. On the -coast the warnings increased, till my life became almost as ludicrous -as a melodrama, and I was obliged to “live each day as ’twere my -last”—an unpleasant and unprofitable mode of living. One man would -drop hints, another would give instances of Portuguese treachery. I -was often told the fate of a poor Portuguese trader named De Silva, -who objected to slavery and was going to Lisbon to expose the system, -but after his first meal on board was found dead in his cabin. People -in the street whispered of my fate. A restaurant-keeper at Benguela -told an English fellow-passenger on my ship that he had better not be -seen with me, for I was in great danger. My boy, who had followed me -right through from the Gold Coast with the fidelity of a homeless dog, -kept bringing me rumors of murder that he heard among the natives. -Two nights before the ship sailed I was at a dinner given by the -engineers of the new railway, and into my overcoat-pocket some one, -whom I wish publicly to thank, tucked a scrap of paper with the words, -“You are in great peril,” written in French. If there was a plot to -set upon me in the empty streets that night, it was prevented by an -Englishman who volunteered to go back with me, though I had not told -him of any danger. Next night I was poisoned. Owing to the frequent -warnings, I was ready with antidotes, but I think I should not have -reached the ship alive next day without the courageous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> and devoted -help of a South-African prospector who had been shut up with me in -Ladysmith. The Dutch trader with whom I was staying was himself far -above suspicion, but I shall not forget his indignant excitement when -he saw what had happened. Evidently it was what he had feared, though -I only told him I must have eaten something unwholesome. The tiresome -sense of apprehension lasted during my voyage to the islands, and I -was obliged to keep a dyspeptic watch upon the food. But I do not wish -to make much of these little personal matters. To American and English -people in their security they naturally seem absurd, and as a proof -how common the art of poisoning still is in Portuguese possessions I -will only mention that I have met a Portuguese trader in San Thomé who -carries about in his waistcoat a little packet of pounded glass which -he detected one evening in his soup, and that on the Portuguese ship -which finally took me from San Thomé to Lisbon a Portuguese official -died the day we started, from an illness due to his belief that he was -being poisoned, and that during the voyage a poor Belgian from the -interior gradually faded away under the same belief, and was carried -out at Lisbon in a dying condition. Of course both may have been mad, -but even madness does not take that form without something to suggest -it.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="footnotes p2"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn11"><a href="#fna11">[11]</a> I find that the latest published Consular Report on San Thomé and -Principe (1902) actually repeats the hypocritical fiction about the -redemption of slaves. After speaking of the “enormous mortality” on the -two islands, the Report continues: “So large a death-rate calls for -constant fresh supplies of laborers from Angola, the principal ports -from which they are obtained being Benguela, Novo Redondo, and Loanda, -where they are ransomed from the black traders who bring them from the -far interior.” <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Consul Nightingale, who wrote the Report, was, of -course, perfectly aware of the truth, and no doubt he wrote in irony. -But English people do not understand irony—least of all in an official -document.</p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn12"><a href="#fna12">[12]</a> There is a well-known carriers’ song with the refrain, “She has -crossed Ondumba ya Maria,” that being the name of a dry brook on this -road from Katumbella to Benguela. It means, “She has gone into slavery -to be sold for San Thomé”—“Gone to the devil,” or, “Gone to glory,” as -we say, almost indifferently.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn13"><a href="#fna13">[13]</a> See note on <a href="#Page_185">page 185</a>.</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="X">X<br /> -<span class="small">LIFE OF SLAVES ON THE ISLANDS</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p>They stand in the Gulf of Guinea—those two islands of San Thomé and -Principe where the slaves die—about one hundred and fifty miles from -the nearest coast at the Gaboon River in French Congo. San Thomé -lies just above the equator, Principe some eighty miles north and a -little east of San Thomé, and a hundred and twenty miles southwest -of Fernando Po. San Thomé is about eight times as large as Principe, -and the population, which may now be reckoned considerably over forty -thousand, is also about eight times as large. It is difficult to say -what proportion of these populations are slaves. The official returns -of 1900 put the population of San Thomé at 37,776, including 19,211 <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>, or slaves, with an import of 4572 <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span> in 1901. And the -population of Principe was given as 4327, including 3175 <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>. But -the prosperity of the islands is increasing with such rapidity that -these numbers have now been probably far surpassed.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna14"><a href="#fn14">[14]</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> - -<p>It is cocoa that has created the prosperity. In old days the islands -were famous for their coffee, and it is still perhaps the best in -Africa. But the trade in coffee sank to less than a half in the ten -years, 1891 to 1901, while in that time the cocoa trade increased -fourfold—from 3597 tons to 14,914—and since 1901 the increase has -been still more rapid. The islands possess exactly the kind of climate -that kills men and makes the cocoa-tree flourish. It is, as I have -described, a hot-house climate—burning heat and torrents of rain in -the wet season, from October to April; stifling heat and clouds of -dripping mist in the season that is called dry. In such an air and upon -the fine volcanic soil the cocoa-plant thrives wherever it is set, -and continues to produce all the year round. Nearly one-third of the -islands is now under cultivation, and the wild forest is constantly -being cleared away. In consequence, the value of land has gone up -beyond the dreams of a land-grabber’s avarice. Little plots that could -be had for the asking ten years ago now fetch their hundreds. There -is a story, perhaps mythical, that one of the greatest owners—once a -clerk or carrier in San Thomé—has lately refused £2,000,000 for his -plantations there. In 1901 the export trade from San Thomé alone was -valued at £764,830, having more than doubled in five years, and by -this time it is certainly over £1,000,000. There are probably about -two hundred and thirty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> plantations or “roças” on San Thomé now, -some employing as many as one thousand slaves. And on Principe there -are over fifty roças, with from three hundred to five hundred slaves -working upon the largest. All these evidences of increasing prosperity -must be very satisfactory to the private proprietors and to the -shareholders in the companies which own a large proportion of the land. -For the most part they live in Lisbon, enjoying themselves upon the -product of the cocoa-tree and the lives of men and women.</p> - -<p>One early morning at San Thomé I went out to visit a plantation -which is rightly regarded as a kind of model—a show-place for the -intelligent foreigner or for the Portuguese shareholder who feels -qualms as he banks his dividends. There were four hundred slaves on -the estate, not counting children, and I was shown their neat brick -huts in rows, quite recently finished. I saw them clearing the forest -for further plantation, clearing the ground under the cocoa-trees, -gathering the great yellow pods, sorting the brown kernels, which -already smelled like a chocolate-box, heaping them up to ferment, -raking them out in vast pans to dry, working in the carpenters’ -sheds, superintending the new machines, and gathering in groups for -the mid-day meal. I was shown the turbine engine, the electric light, -the beautiful wood-work in the manager’s house, the clean and roomy -hospital with its copious supply of drugs and anatomical curiosities -in bottles, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> isolated house for infectious cases. To an outward -seeming, the Decree of 1903 for the regulation of the slave labor had -been carried out in every possible respect. All looked as perfect and -legal as an English industrial school. Then we sat down to an exquisite -Parisian <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">déjeuner</i> under the bower of a drooping tree, and while -I was meditating on the hardships of African travel, a saying of -another of the guests kept coming back to my mind: “The Portuguese are -certainly doing a marvellous work for Angola and these islands. Call it -slavery if you like. Names and systems don’t matter. The sum of human -happiness is being infinitely increased.”</p> - -<p>The doctor had come up to pay his official visit to the plantation that -day. “The death-rate on this roça,” he remarked, casually, during the -meal, “is twelve or fourteen per cent. a year among the <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>.” -“And what is the chief cause?” I asked. “Anæmia,” he said. “That is a -vague sort of thing,” I answered; “what brings on anæmia?” “Unhappiness -<span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">[tristeza]</span>,” he said, frankly.</p> - -<p>He went on to explain that if they could keep a slave alive for three -or four years from the date of landing, he generally lived some time -longer, but it was very difficult to induce them to live through the -misery and homesickness of the first few years.</p> - -<p>This cause, however, does not account for the high mortality among the -children. On one of the largest and best-managed plantations of San -Thomé<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> the superintendent admits a children’s death-rate of twenty-five -per cent., or one-quarter of all the children, every year. Our latest -consular reports do not give a complete return of the death-rate for -San Thomé, but on Principe 867 slaves died during 1901 (491 males and -376 females), which gives a total death-rate of 20.67 per cent. per -annum. In other words, you may calculate that among the slaves on -Principe one in every five will be dead by the end of the year.<span class="fnanchor" id="fna15"><a href="#fn15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p>No wonder that the price of slaves is high, and that it is almost -impossible for the supply from Angola to keep pace with the demand, -though the government calls on its Agents to drive the trade as hard as -they can, and the Agents do their very utmost to encourage the natives -to raid, kidnap, accuse of witchcraft, press for debts, soak in rum, -and sell. A manager in Principe, who employs one hundred and fifty -slaves on his roça, told me that it is impossible for him fully to -develop the land without two hundred more, but he simply cannot afford -the £6000 needed for the purchase of that number.</p> - -<p>The common saying that if you have seen one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> plantation you have seen -all is not exactly true. I found the plantations differed a good deal -according to the wealth of the proprietor and the superintendent’s -disposition. Still there is a general similarity in external things -from which one can easily build up a type. Let us take, for instance, a -roça which I visited one Sunday after driving some six or seven miles -into the interior from the port of San Thomé. The road led through -groves of the cocoa-tree, the gigantic “cotton-tree,” breadfruit, -palms, and many hard and useful woods which I did not know. For a -great part of the distance the wild and untouched forest stood thick -on both sides, and as we climbed into the mountains we looked down -into unpenetrated glades, where parrots, monkeys, and civet-cats are -the chief inhabitants. The sides of the road were thickly covered with -moss and fern, and the high rocks and tree-tops were from time to time -concealed by the soaking white mist which the people for some strange -reason call “flying-fish milk.” High up in the hills we came to a -filthy village, where a few slaves were drearily lying about, full of -the deadly rum that hardly even cheers. A few hundred yards farther -up was the roça which owns the village and runs the rum-shop there -for the benefit of the slaves and its own pocket. The buildings are -arranged in a great quadrangle, with high walls all round and big gates -that are locked at night. On one side<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> stands the planter’s house, -and attached to it are the dwellings of the overseers, or gangers, -together with the quarters of such slaves as are employed for domestic -purposes, whether as concubines or servants. On the other side stand -the quarters of the ordinary slaves who labor on the plantation. They -are built in long sheds, and in a few cases these are two stories -high, but in most plantations only one. Some of the sheds are arranged -like the dormitories in our barracks; sometimes the homes are almost -or entirely isolated; sometimes, as in this roça, they are divided by -partitions, like the stalls in a stable. At one end of the quadrangle, -besides the magazines for the working and storage of the cocoa, there -is a huge barn, which the slaves use as a kitchen, each family making -its own little fire on the ground and cooking its rations separately, -as the unconquerable habit of all natives is. At the other end of the -quadrangle, sunk below the level of the fall of the hill, stands the -hospital, with its male and female wards duly divided according to law.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img023"> - <img src="images/023.jpg" class="w75" alt="SLAVE QUARTERS ON A PLANTATION" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">SLAVE QUARTERS ON A PLANTATION</p> - -<p class="p2">The centre of the quadrangle is occupied by great flat pans, paved with -cement or stones, for the drying of the cocoa-beans. Within the largest -of these enclosures the slaves are gathered two or three times a week -to receive their rations of meal and dried fish. At six o’clock on the -afternoon of my visit they all assembled to the clanging of the bell, -the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> grown-up slaves bringing large bundles of grass, which they had -gathered as part of their daily task, for the mules and cattle. They -stood round the edges of the square in perfect silence. In the centre -of the square at regular intervals stood the whity-brown gangers, -leaning on their long sticks or flicking their boots with whips. Beside -them lay the large and savage dogs which prowl round the buildings at -night to prevent the slaves escaping in the darkness. As it was Sunday -afternoon, the slaves were called upon to enjoy the Sunday treat. First -came the children one by one, and to each of them was given a little -sup of wine from a pitcher. Then the square began slowly to move round -in single file. Slabs of dried fish were given out as rations, and -for the special Sunday treat each man or woman received two leaves of -raw tobacco from one of the superintendent’s mistresses, or, if they -preferred it, one leaf of tobacco and a sup of wine in a mug. Nearly -all chose the two leaves of tobacco as the more lasting joy. When they -had received their dole, they passed round the square again in single -file, till all had made the circuit. From first to last not a single -word was spoken. It was more like a military execution than a festival.</p> - -<p>About once a month the slaves receive their wages in a similar manner. -By the Decree of 1903, the minimum wage for a man is fixed at 2500 reis -(something under ten shillings) a month, and for a woman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> at 1800 -reis. But, as a matter of fact, the planters tell me that the average -wage is 1200 reis a month, or about one and twopence a week. In some -cases the wages are higher, and one or two slaves were pointed out to -me whose wages came to fifteen shillings a month. I am told that in -the islands, unlike the custom on the mainland, these wages are really -paid in cash and not by tokens, but the planters always add that as the -money can only be spent in the plantation store, nearly all of it comes -back to them in the form of profit on rum or cloth or food.</p> - -<p class="center p0 p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img024"> - <img src="images/024.jpg" class="w75" alt="SLAVES WAITING FOR RATIONS ON SUNDAY" /> -</span></p> -<p class="center p0 caption">SLAVES WAITING FOR RATIONS ON SUNDAY</p> - -<p class="p2">According to the law, only two-fifths of the wages are to be paid every -month, the remaining three-fifths going to a “Repatriation Fund” in -San Thomé. In the case of the slaves from Angola this is never done, -and it is much to the credit of the Portuguese that, as there is no -repatriation, they have dropped the institution of a Repatriation Fund. -They might easily have pocketed three-fifths of the slaves’ wages under -that excuse, but this advantage they have renounced. They never send -the slaves home, and they do not deduct the money for doing it. Neither -do they deduct a proportion of the wages which, according to the law, -might be sent to the mainland for the support of a man’s family till -the termination of his contract. They know a contract terminates only -at death, and from this easy method of swindling they also abstain. It -is, as I said, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> their credit, the more because it is so unlike their -custom.</p> - -<p>For some reason which I do not quite understand—perhaps because they -come under French government—the Cape Verde <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span> receive a higher -wage (three thousand reis for a man and twenty-five hundred for a -woman); about a third is deducted every month for repatriation, and -in many cases, at all events, the people are actually sent back. So -the planters told me, though I have not seen them on a returning ship -myself.</p> - -<p>According to the law, the wages of all slaves must be raised ten per -cent. if they agree to renew their contract for a second term of five -years. With the best will in the world, it would be almost impossible -to carry out this provision, for no slave ever does agree to renew his -contract. His wishes in the matter are no more consulted than a blind -horse’s in a coal-pit. The owner or Agent of the plantation waits till -the five years of about fifty of his slaves have expired. Then he sends -for the Curador from San Thomé, and lines up the fifty in front of him. -In the presence of two witnesses and his secretary the Curador solemnly -announces to the slaves that the term of their contract is up and the -contract is renewed for five years more. The slaves are then dismissed -and another scene in the cruel farce of contracted labor is over. One -of the planters told me that he thought some of his slaves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> counted the -years for the first five, but never afterwards.</p> - -<p>Some planters do not even go through the form of bringing the Curador -and the time-expired slaves face to face. They simply send down the -papers for signature, and do not mention the matter to the slaves at -all. At the end of June, 1905, a planter told me he had sent down the -papers in April and had not yet received them back. He was getting a -little anxious. “Of course,” he said, “it makes no difference whatever -to the slaves. They know nothing about it. But I like to comply with -the law.”</p> - -<p>In one respect, however, that well-intentioned citizen did not comply -with the law at all. The law lays it down that every owner of fifty -slaves must set up a hospital with separate wards for the sexes. This -man employed nearly two hundred slaves and had no hospital at all. The -official doctor came up and visited the sick in their crowded huts -twice a month.</p> - -<p>The law lays it down that a crèche shall be kept on each plantation -for children under seven, and certainly I have seen the little black -infants herding about in the dust together among the empty huts while -their parents were at work. Children are not allowed to be driven to -work before they are eleven, and up to fourteen they may be compelled -to do only certain kinds of labor. From<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> fourteen to sixteen two kinds -of labor are excluded—cutting timber and trenching the coffee. After -sixteen they become full-grown slaves, and may be forced to do any kind -of work. These provisions are only legal, but, as I noticed before, -the children born on a plantation, if only they can be kept alive -to maturity, ought to make the most valuable kind of slaves. Their -keep has cost very little, and otherwise they come to the planter for -nothing, like all good gifts of God. This is what makes me doubt the -truth of a story one often hears about San Thomé, that a woman who -is found to be with child after landing is flogged to death in the -presence of the others. It is not the cruelty that makes me question -it. Give a lonely white man absolute authority over blacks, and there -is no length to which his cruelty may not go. But the loss in cash -would be too considerable. At landing, a woman has cost the planter as -much as two cows, and no good business man would flog a cow to death -because she was in calf.</p> - -<p>The same considerations tend, of course, to prevent all violent acts -of cruelty such as might bring death. The cost of slaves is so large, -the demand is so much greater than the supply, and the death-rate is -so terrible in any case that a good planter’s first thought is to do -all he can to keep his stock of slaves alive. It is true that in most -men passion easily overcomes interest, and for an outsider it is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -impossible to judge of such things. When a stranger is coming, the word -goes round that everything must be made to look as smooth and pleasant -as possible. No one can realize the inner truth of the slave’s life -unless he has lived many years on the plantations. But I am inclined -to think that for business reasons the violent forms of cruelty are -unlikely and uncommon. Flogging, however, is common if not universal, -and so are certain forms of vice. The prettiest girls are chosen by -the Agents and gangers as their concubines—that is natural. But it -was worse when a planter pointed me out a little boy and girl of about -seven or eight, and boasted that like most of the children they were -already instructed in acts of bestiality, the contemplation of which -seemed to give him a pleasing amusement amid the brutalizing tedium of -a planter’s life.</p> - -<p>In spite of all precautions and the boasted comfort of their lot, some -of the slaves succeed in escaping. On San Thomé they generally take to -highway robbery, and white men always go armed in consequence. The law -decrees that a recaptured runaway is to be restored to his owner, and -after the customary flogging he is then set to work again. Sometimes -the runaways are hunted and shot down. On one of the mountains of San -Thomé, I am told, you may still see a heap of bones where a party of -runaway slaves were shot, but I have not seen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> them myself. For some -reason, perhaps because of the greater wildness of the island, there -are many more runaways on Principe, small as it is. The place is like a -magic land, the dream of some wild painter. Points of cliff run sheer -up from the sea, and between them lie secret little bays where a boat -may be pushed off quietly over the sand. In one such bay, where the -dense forest comes right down to the beach, a long canoe was gradually -scooped out in January (1905) and filled with provisions for a voyage. -When all was ready, eighteen escaped slaves launched it by night and -paddled away into the darkness of the sea. For many days and nights -they toiled, ignorant of all direction. They only knew that somewhere -across the sea was their home. But before their provisions were quite -spent, the current and the powers of evil that watch over slaves bore -them to the coast of Fernando Po. Thinking they had reached freedom at -last, they crept out of the boat on to the welcome shore, and there -the authorities seized upon them, and, to the endless shame of Spain, -packed them all on a steamer and sent them back in a single day to the -place from which they came.</p> - -<p>That is one of the things that make us anarchists. Probably there was -hardly any one on Fernando Po, though it is a slave island itself, who -would not willingly have saved those men if he had been left to his own -instincts. But directly the state authority<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> came in, their cause was -hopeless. So it is that wherever you touch government you seem to touch -the devil.</p> - -<p>The eighteen were taken back to Principe, flogged almost to death in -the jail, returned to their owners, and any of them who survive are -still at work on the plantations, with but the memory of that brief -happiness and overwhelming defeat to think upon.</p> - -<p>When escaping slaves have reached the Cameroons, the Germans resolutely -refuse to give them back, and by that refusal they have done much to -cover the errors and harshness of their own colonial system. What would -happen now to slaves who reached Nigeria or the Gold Coast, one hardly -dares to think. There was a time when we used to hear fine stories of -slaves falling on the beach when they touched British territory and -kissing the soil of freedom. But that was long ago, and since then -England has grown rich and fallen from her high estate. Her hands are -no longer clean, and when people think of Johannesburg and Queensland -and western Australia, all she may say of freedom becomes an empty -sound, impressing no one.</p> - -<p>Last April (1905) another of the planters discovered a party of eight -of his own slaves just launching a canoe in hopes of escaping with -better success. They had crammed the canoe with provisions—slaughtered -pigs, meal, and water-casks—so many things that the planter told me -it would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> certainly have sunk and drowned them all. To prevent this -lamentable catastrophe he took them to the jail, had them flogged -almost to death by the jailer there, and brought them back to the huts -which they had so rashly attempted to leave in spite of their legal -contract and their supposed willingness to work on the plantations.</p> - -<p>In the interior, the island of Principe rises into great peaks, not so -high as the mountains of San Thomé, but very much more precipitous. -There is one peak especially where the rock falls so sheer that I think -it would be inaccessible to the best climber on that side. I have not -discovered the exact height of the mountains, but I should estimate -them as something between four and five thousand feet, and they, like -the whole island, are covered with forest and tropical growth, except -where the rock is too steep and smooth to give any hold for roots. -But, as a rule, one sees the mountains only by glimpses, for when I -have passed the island or landed there they have always been wrapped -in slowly moving mist, and I believe they are seldom clear of it. The -mist falls in a soaking drizzle, and it seems to rain heavily, besides, -almost every day, even in the dry season. Perhaps the moisture is -almost too great, for I noticed more rot upon the cocoa-pods here than -at San Thomé.</p> - -<p>Into these dripping forests and almost inaccessible mountains the -slaves are constantly trying to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> escape. A planter told me that many -of them do not realize what an island is. They hope to be able to make -their way home on foot. When they discover that the terrible sea foams -all round them, they turn into the forest and build little huts, from -which they are continually moving away. Here and there they plant -little patches of maize or other food with seed which they steal from -the plantations or which is secretly conveyed to them by the other -slaves. Some kind of communication is evidently kept up, for it is -thought the plantation slaves always know where the runaways are, and -sometimes betray them. I saw one man who had been living with them in -the forest himself and had come back with his hand cut off and his head -split open, probably for treachery. We asked him the reason; we asked -him to tell us something of the life out there; but at once he assumed -the native’s impenetrable look and would not speak another word.</p> - -<p>Women as well as men escape from time to time and join these fine -vindicators of freedom in the woods, but, chiefly owing to the deadly -climate and the extreme hardship of their life, the people do not -increase in numbers. About a thousand was the highest figure I heard -given for them; about two hundred the lowest. The number most generally -quoted was six hundred, but, in fact, it is quite impossible to count -them at all, for they are always changing their camps and are rarely -seen.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> The cotton cloths in which they escape go to pieces very soon, -and they all live in entire nakedness, except when the women take the -trouble to string together a few plantain leaves as aprons. Among them, -however, they have some clever craftsmen. They make good bows and -arrows for hunting the civet-cats and other animals that form their -chief food, and I have seen a two-handled saw made out of a common -knife or matchet—a very ingenious piece of work. It was found in the -hands of one of them who had been shot.</p> - -<p>For the most part they live a wandering and hard, but I hope not an -entirely unhappy, existence in the dense forest around the base of -that precipitous mountain of which I spoke. Every now and again the -Portuguese organize man-hunts to recapture or kill them off. Forming -a kind of cordon, they sweep over parts of the island, tying up or -shooting all they may find. But the Portuguese are so cowardly and -incapable in their undertakings that they are no match for alert -natives filled with the recklessness of despair, and the massacre has -never yet been complete. In fact, the hunting-parties are often broken -up by dissensions among rival strategists, and sometimes they appear to -degenerate into convivial meetings, at which drink is the object and -murder the excuse.</p> - -<p>Recently, however, there was a very successful shoot. The sportsmen -had been led by guides to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> a place where the escaped slaves were known -to be rather thick in the forest. They came upon huts evidently just -abandoned. Beside them, hidden in the grass, they found an old man. -“We took him,” said the planter who told me the story, with all a -sportsman’s relish, “and we forced him to tell us where the others -were. At first we could not squeeze a word or sign out of him. After -a long time, without saying anything, he lifted a hand towards the -highest trees, and there we saw the slaves, men and women, clinging -like bats to the under side of the branches. It was not long, I can -tell you, before we brought them crashing down through the leaves on to -the ground. My word, we had grand sport that day!”</p> - -<p>I can imagine no more noble existence than has fallen to those poor -and naked blacks, who have dared all for freedom, and, scorning the -stall-fed life of slavery, have chosen rather to throw themselves upon -such mercy as nature has, to wander together in nakedness and hunger -from forest to forest and hut to hut, to live in daily apprehension of -murder, to lurk like apes under the high branches, and at last to fall -to the bullets of the Christians, dead, but of no further service to -the commercial gentlemen who bought them and lose £30 by every death.</p> - -<p>Even to the slaves who remain on the plantations, not having the -courage or good-fortune to escape<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> and die like wild beasts, death, as -a rule, is not much longer delayed in coming. Probably within the first -two or three years the slave’s strength begins to ebb away. With every -day his work becomes feebler, so that at last even the ganger’s whip -or pointed stick cannot urge him on. Then he is taken to the hospital -and laid upon the boarded floor till he dies. An hour or so afterwards -you may meet two of his fellow-slaves going into the forest. There is -perhaps a sudden smell of carbolic or other disinfectant upon the air, -and you take another look at the long pole the slaves are carrying -between them on their shoulders. Under the pole a body is lashed, -tightly wrapped up in the cotton cloth that was its dress while it -lived. The head is covered with another piece of cloth which passes -round the neck and is also fastened tightly to the pole. The feet and -legs are sometimes covered, sometimes left to dangle naked. In silence -the two slaves pass into some untrodden part of the forest, and the man -or woman who started on life’s journey in a far-off native village with -the average hope and delight of childhood, travels over the last brief -stage and is no more seen.</p> - -<p>Laws and treaties do not count for much. A law is never of much effect -unless the mind of a people has passed beyond the need of it, and -treaties are binding only on those who wish to be bound. But still -there are certain laws and treaties that we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> may for a moment recall: -in 1830 England paid £300,000 to the Portuguese provided they forbade -all slave-trade—which they did and pocketed the money; in 1842 England -and the United States agreed under the Ashburton Treaty to maintain -joint squadrons on the west coast of Africa for the suppression of the -slave-trade; in 1858 Portugal enacted a law that every slave belonging -to a Portuguese subject should be free in twenty years; in 1885, by -the Berlin General Act, England, the United States, and thirteen other -powers, including Portugal and Belgium, pledged themselves to suppress -every kind of slave-trade, especially in the Congo and the interior -of Africa; in 1890, by the Brussels General Act, England, the United -States, and fifteen other powers, including Portugal and Belgium, -pledged themselves to suppress every kind of slave-trade, especially -in the Congo and the interior of Africa, to erect cities of refuge for -escaped slaves, to hold out protection to every fugitive slave, to stop -all convoys of slaves on the march, and to exercise strict supervision -at all ports so as to prevent the sale or shipment of slaves across the -sea.</p> - -<p>If any one wanted a theme for satire, what more deadly theme could he -find?</p> - -<p>To which of the powers can appeal now be made? Appeal to England is no -longer possible. Since the rejection of Ireland’s home-rule bill, the -abandonment<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> of the Armenians to massacre, and the extinction of the -South-African republics, she can no longer be regarded as the champion -of liberty or of justice among mankind. She has flung away her only -noble heritage. She has closed her heart of compassion, and for ten -years past the oppressed have called to her in vain. A single British -cruiser, posted off the coast of Angola, with orders to arrest every -mail-boat or other ship having <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span> on board, would so paralyze -the system that probably it would never recover. But one might as soon -expect Russia or Germany to do it as England in her recent mood. She -will make representations, perhaps; she will remind Portugal of “the -old alliance” and the friendship between the royal families; but she -will do no more. What she says can have no effect; her tongue, which -was the tongue of men, has become like sounding brass; and if she spoke -of freedom, the nations would listen with a polished smile.</p> - -<p>From her we can turn only to America. There the sense of freedom still -seems to linger, and the people are still capable of greater actions -than can ever be prompted by commercial interests and the search for -a market. America’s record is still clean compared to England’s, and -her impulses to compassion and justice will not be checked by family -affection for the royalties of one out of the two most degraded, -materialized, and unintellectual little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> states of Europe. America may -still take the part that once was England’s by right of inheritance. -She may stand as the bulwark of freedom against tyranny, and of justice -and mercy—those almost extinct qualities—against the restless greed -and blood-thirsty pleasure-seeking of the world. Let America declare -that her will is set against slavery, and at her voice the abominable -trade in human beings between Angola and the islands will collapse as -the slave-trade to Brazil collapsed at the voice of England in the days -of her greatness.</p> - -<p>I am aware that, as I said in my first letter, the whole question of -slavery is still before us. It has reappeared under the more pleasing -names of “indentured labor,” “contract labor,” or the “compulsory -labor” which <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr> Chamberlain has advocated in obedience to the -Johannesburg mine-owners. The whole thing will have to be faced -anew, for the solutions of our great-grandfathers no longer satisfy. -While slavery is lucrative, as it is on the islands of San Thomé and -Principe, it will be defended by those who identify greatness with -wealth, and if their own wealth is involved, their arguments will gain -considerably in vigor. They will point to the necessity of developing -rich islands where no one would work without compulsion. They will -point to what they call the comfort and good treatment of the slaves. -They will protect themselves behind legal terms. But they forget<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> that -legal terms make no difference to the truth of things. They forget that -slavery is not a matter of discomfort or ill treatment, but of loss -of liberty. They forget that it might be better for mankind that the -islands should go back to wilderness than that a single slave should -toil there. I know the contest is still before us. It is but part of -the great contest with capitalism, and in Africa it will be as long and -difficult as it was a hundred years ago in other regions of the world. -I have but tried to reveal one small glimpse in a greater battle-field, -and to utter the cause of a few thousands out of the millions of men -and women whose silence is heard only by God. And perhaps if the crying -of their silence is not heard even by God, it will yet be heard in the -souls of the just and the compassionate.</p> - - -<div class="footnotes p2"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn14"><a href="#fna14">[14]</a> An English resident at San Thomé estimates the <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span> alone at -forty thousand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> - -<p class="footnote" id="fn15"><a href="#fna15">[15]</a> London’s death-rate in 1903 was 15.7 per 1000 against Principe’s -206.7 per 1000. Liverpool had the highest death-rate of English cities. -It was 20.5 per 1000, or almost exactly one-tenth of the death-rate -among the <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span> in Principe. The total death-rate for England and -Wales in 1902 was 16.2 per 1000.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="INDEX">INDEX</h2> -</div> - - -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Abeokuta, walled city of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">population of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Accra, town of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><i xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">A Defeza de Angola</i>, Loanda newspaper, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Afoola,” native name for missionary, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Agent,” the, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>-<a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>-<a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ambriz, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">American mission, Congregationalist, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">Wesleyan Episcopalian, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Amorim, Captain, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Angola, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Antelopes, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ants, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Apeka” (slaves), <a href="#Page_121">121</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Arnot, F. S., missionary explorer, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ashanti, town of, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ashburton Treaty, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Atundwa plant, the, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Aureoles, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Axim, settlement of, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Bailundu, district of, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">mission village of, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bailundu war of 1902, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bananas, plantation of, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Barotzeland, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Barracoons, remains of, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Batatele cannibals, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bees, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Beeswax, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Beit, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Belmonte, fort at, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Benguela, town of, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">Boers at, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Berlin General Act, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bihé, district of, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>-<a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bihéans, the, born traders, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">language of, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">villages of, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">public club (onjango) of, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">games of, <a href="#Page_91">91</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">proverbs of, <a href="#Page_92">92</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">folk-lore of, <a href="#Page_94">94</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">dancing of, <a href="#Page_95">95</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">musical instruments of, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">witchcraft of, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">slavery among, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">objections to burying slaves, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">eat those meeting with sudden death, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">thieves, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Birds, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Black-headed crane, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bluebock, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Boer transport-riders, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Boers, long trek of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">knowledge of oxen, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">trade in slaves, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bogs, <a href="#Page_65">65</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Boiling springs, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bourru-Bourru bog, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Boys,” native, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Brussels Conference of 1890, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Brussels General Act, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Buffaloes, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Burchell’s zebra (quagga), <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Burial of slaves, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bush paths, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Bustard, great, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Cabinda, in Portuguese territory, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Caconda, fort at, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">turning-point of journey, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Caiala, town of, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Calabar, missionaries at, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Calei River, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cameron’s, Commander, <i>Across Africa</i>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a> <i>n</i>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Camps, rest, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Candombo, deserted village of, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cannibals, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cape Coast Castle settlement, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Caravans, slave, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cassava, native food, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Catholic mission, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cats, civet, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Central Committee of Labor and Emigration,” <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Chain-gangs, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Chibokwe tribe, the, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>-<a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">kill their slaves, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">file their teeth, <a href="#Page_127">127</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">eat those meeting with sudden death, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">trade in rubber, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">artistic, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">dancing of, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">religious rites of, <a href="#Page_130">130</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">witchcraft of, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">missionaries among, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>-<a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Chicotes (hide whips), <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Children pawned into slavery, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Chinjamba, pioneers at, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Chocolate from San Thomé and Principe islands, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Civet-cats, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cocoa, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Coffee, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">plantation, working a, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Coillard, M., missionary, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Coinage, real, in Central Africa, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Commercial Company of Angola, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Committee of Emigration, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Concubines, slaves as, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Contract, form of, <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Contract labor, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>-<a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">form of contract, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">pay of, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>-<a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">Contrahidos</span> or <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>-<a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Copper-mines, ancient, of Matanga, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cotton cloth, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>-<a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cotton, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Crane, black-headed, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">dancing, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Crocodiles, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cuando River, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cuanza River, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>-<a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cunene River, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cunughamba River, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cunyama, the, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Cunyami natives, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Currency, recognized, in Central Africa, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Currie, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>, missionary, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Dancing cranes, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Debtor, a, body left to jackals, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Decree of January 29, 1903, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>-<a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Deer, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, 166.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Deposits of magnesia, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Desert, Kalahari, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">De Silva, fate of, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ditch-canals, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Domestic slavery, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>-<a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Doves, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Dried fish, “stinkfish,” <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Drum, native musical instrument, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>-<a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Duiker, antelope, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Eagles, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Eckstein, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Elands, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Elephants, <a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Empreza Nacional,” profits of, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">English mission, Plymouth Brethren, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Eucalyptus-trees of Benguela, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Exportation of slaves, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>-<a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Factories, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>-<a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fay, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>, missionary, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fernando Po, island, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ferries over the Cuanza, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Feudalism, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fevers, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Flag-grasses, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Flamingoes, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fly, tsetse, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Form of contract, <span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">serviçaes</span>, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Forts, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_21">21</a>, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_70">70</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>-<a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Francolins, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fruits, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Fugitive slaves, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Gangers, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gnu, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gold, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Grasses, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_108">108</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Guinea-fowl, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Gums, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Hartebeest, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hawks, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hide whips (chicotes or sjamboks), <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hippopotamus, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Honey-guide, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hornbill, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hugo, Victor, quoted, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Hungry country,” the, <a href="#Page_47">47</a>, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>-<a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hunting slaves, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Hyena, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Il Principe Island, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">India-rubber plant, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Islands, Il Principe, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_202">202</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">San Thomé, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>-<a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>-<a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_202">202</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">Fernando Po, <a href="#Page_200">200</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ivory, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Jackals, debtors left to, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Johannesburg, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ju-ju house, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Kalahari Desert, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kamundongo, mission at, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kandundu, the, worship of, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kanjumdu of Chiuka, Christian chief, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kasai, tributary of the Congo, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Katanga, ancient copper-mines of, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">district, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Katumbella, river, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">town of, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>-<a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kernels, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kola, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Koodoo, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, 166.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kraal, native chief’s, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Krooboys,” <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Kukema River, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Ladysmith, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lagoons of Lagos, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lagos, town of, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">lagoons of, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lake Ngami, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lechwe, antelope, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Legalized slavery, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>-<a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Leopards, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Letters of freedom,” <a href="#Page_46">46</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Life of slaves, the, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>-<a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_210">210</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lions, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>-<a href="#Page_74">74</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Livingstone, David, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Loanda, St. Paul de, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>-<a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">slaves shipped from, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lobito Bay, possible future of, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>-<a href="#Page_171">171</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Luchazi tribe, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Luena, tributary of the Zambesi, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Lungwebungu, tributary of the Zambesi, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Luimbi tribe, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Magnesia, deposits of, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mahogany, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mangrove swamps, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>-<a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mashiko, fort at, <a href="#Page_105">105</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Matchets, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Matota, fort at, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mediums of exchange, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Metallic starling, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Millet, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mines, Transvaal, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Missionaries, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_132">132</a>-<a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Missions, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_133">133</a>, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>-<a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Monkeys, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">yellow, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Moolecky, poisonous herb, <a href="#Page_64">64</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mortality among slaves, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mosquitoes, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mossamedes, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a> <i>n</i>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Mountain of Money,” the, ancient city of, <a href="#Page_81">81</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mozambique, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mud-fish, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Mushi-Moshi (the Simoï), <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Nanakandundu, district, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">villages of, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Native “boys,” <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">instruments, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">New slavery, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Newspapers, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Niger, the, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Nigeria, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Nile, the, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Novo Redondo, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Nurses, white women, on the Coast, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Ochisanji, native musical instrument, <a href="#Page_96">96</a>, <a href="#Page_97">97</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Okavango River, the, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Onjango, public club of Bihéans, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Orange orchards, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Order of the Holy Spirit, <a href="#Page_138">138</a>, <a href="#Page_140">140</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Oribi, the, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Our Lady of Salvation, church of, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>, <a href="#Page_20">20</a>, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ovampos, cattle-breeding tribe, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Overseers, plantation, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ovimbundu, the, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Oxen, characteristics of, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>-<a href="#Page_65">65</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">riding, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">language of, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">Boers’ knowledge of, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">love of salt, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">children pawned for, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ox-wagon, mode of conveyance, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>-<a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Palm-oil, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></li> - -<li class="ifrst">Parrots, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Peho, Mona, chief, <a href="#Page_110">110</a> <i>n</i>;</li> -<li class="isuba">town of, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Plantations, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_188">188</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">banana, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">coffee, working a, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">overseers, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_39">39</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">slavery, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>-<a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>; <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">sugar-cane, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">sweet-potato, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Polygamy, <a href="#Page_89">89</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Porcupines, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Profits on slaves, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Python, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Quagga (Burchell’s zebra), <a href="#Page_74">74</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Queensland, <a href="#Page_201">201</a>.</li> - - -<li class="ifrst">Railways, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_185">185</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Redeemed” slaves, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Redondo, Novo, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Red peppers, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Reedbuck, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Repatriation Fund,” <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Rest camps, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>, <a href="#Page_161">161</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Riding-ox, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Rivers, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_31">31</a>, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>-<a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>-<a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Robert Williams Concession,” <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Rubber, India, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Rum, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_146">146</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Saccanjimba, mission village of, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Salt, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>-<a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">San Thomé, island of, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>, <a href="#Page_116">116</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>-<a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_202">202</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sanders, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>, missionary, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Scottish missionaries, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sekundi, settlement of, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst"><span xml:lang="pt" lang="pt">Serviçaes</span>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>-<a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_196">196</a>, <a href="#Page_208">208</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">form of contract, <a href="#Page_28">28</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Settlements, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Shackles, slave, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>-<a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sharks, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Ships, slave, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sierra Leone, <a href="#Page_1">1</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Silva Porto, slave-trader, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sjamboks (hide whips), <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Slave, caravan, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_120">120</a>, <a href="#Page_121">121</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">hunting, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">market, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">shackles, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>-<a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">ships, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">trade, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>-<a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">traders, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">traffic, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Slavery, <a href="#Page_12">12</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">domestic, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>-<a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">legalized, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">new, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">plantation, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>-<a href="#Page_39">39</a>, <a href="#Page_49">49</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_100">100</a>, <a href="#Page_193">193</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">tribal, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Slaves, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>-<a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_184">184</a>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">as concubines, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">burial of, <a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_206">206</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">chain-gangs, <a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">exportation of, <a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>-<a href="#Page_185">185</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">fugitives, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>-<a href="#Page_201">201</a>, <a href="#Page_203">203</a>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">life of, <a href="#Page_33">33</a>-<a href="#Page_36">36</a>, <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-<a href="#Page_210">210</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">mortality among, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>, <a href="#Page_190">190</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">profits on, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">“redeemed,” <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">stamp duty on, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></li> -<li class="isuba">treatment of, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>-<a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>-<a href="#Page_115">115</a>,</li> -<li class="ifrst"><a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">value of, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>-<a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">wages of, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>-<a href="#Page_196">196</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sleeping-sickness, the, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>-<a href="#Page_26">26</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">symptoms of, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">duration of, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">mortality of, <a href="#Page_25">25</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">its effects upon the labor supply, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Small-pox, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Snakes, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Springs, boiling, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Stamp duty on slaves, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Standard of value in Central Africa, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Starling, metallic, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“Stinkfish,” dried fish, <a href="#Page_35">35</a>, <a href="#Page_37">37</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Stinking water-buck, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Stover, <abbr title="mister">Mr.</abbr>, missionary, <a href="#Page_142">142</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sugar-cane, <a href="#Page_26">26</a>, <a href="#Page_32">32</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Swamps, mangrove, <a href="#Page_5">5</a>-<a href="#Page_8">8</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Sweet-potato, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">plantations, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">“Tanganyika Concession,” <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tax on slaves, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">“The Rivers,” <a href="#Page_5">5</a>, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tobacco, <a href="#Page_88">88</a>, <a href="#Page_164">164</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Towns, <a href="#Page_2">2</a>, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_19">19</a>-<a href="#Page_23">23</a>, <a href="#Page_27">27</a>, <a href="#Page_40">40</a>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>-<a href="#Page_44">44</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>, <a href="#Page_82">82</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_149">149</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a>, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>, <a href="#Page_169">169</a>, <a href="#Page_171">171</a>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a>, <a href="#Page_175">175</a>, <a href="#Page_176">176</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_180">180</a>, <a href="#Page_182">182</a>, <a href="#Page_186">186</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Trade in slaves, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_30">30</a>, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_45">45</a>, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>, <a href="#Page_80">80</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_150">150</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_157">157</a>, <a href="#Page_172">172</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>, <a href="#Page_209">209</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Traders, slave, <a href="#Page_13">13</a>, <a href="#Page_46">46</a>, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>, <a href="#Page_79">79</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_103">103</a>, <a href="#Page_118">118</a>, <a href="#Page_152">152</a> <i>n</i>, <a href="#Page_168">168</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Traffic in slaves, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>, <a href="#Page_153">153</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Transvaal mines, labor forced to, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Treatment of slaves, <a href="#Page_54">54</a>-<a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_112">112</a>, <a href="#Page_113">113</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>, <a href="#Page_122">122</a>, <a href="#Page_151">151</a>, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_163">163</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_178">178</a>, <a href="#Page_179">179</a>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a>, <a href="#Page_198">198</a>, <a href="#Page_199">199</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Treaty, Ashburton, <a href="#Page_207">207</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Trek, distance reckoned by, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">long, of Boers, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">ox, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>-<a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tribal slavery, <a href="#Page_14">14</a>, <a href="#Page_16">16</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tribes, native, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Tsetse-fly, <a href="#Page_24">24</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Umbala, or King’s fortress, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_158">158</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Umbundu, language of Bihéans, <a href="#Page_86">86</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Upeka (slave), <a href="#Page_121">121</a> <i>n</i>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Value, of slaves, <a href="#Page_29">29</a>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a>-<a href="#Page_53">53</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>, <a href="#Page_114">114</a>, <a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_167">167</a>, <a href="#Page_174">174</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">standard of, in Central Africa, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>, <a href="#Page_84">84</a>, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Vultures, <a href="#Page_76">76</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Wages of slaves, <a href="#Page_38">38</a>, <a href="#Page_194">194</a>, <a href="#Page_195">195</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wagon, ox, mode of conveyance, <a href="#Page_43">43</a>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>-<a href="#Page_62">62</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Walled city of Abeokuta, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">population of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wart-hogs, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Water-buck, stinking, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wesleyan Episcopalian order, <a href="#Page_141">141</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wild animals, <a href="#Page_7">7</a>, <a href="#Page_71">71</a>-<a href="#Page_77">77</a>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>, <a href="#Page_87">87</a>, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>, <a href="#Page_111">111</a>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a>, <a href="#Page_160">160</a>-<a href="#Page_162">162</a>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a>, <a href="#Page_166">166</a>, <a href="#Page_177">177</a>, <a href="#Page_192">192</a>, <a href="#Page_204">204</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Wildebeest, <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Witchcraft, <a href="#Page_99">99</a>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a>, <a href="#Page_170">170</a>, <a href="#Page_191">191</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Women, white, on the coast, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">nurses, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Yams, trade in, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> -</ul> -<ul class="index p2"> -<li class="ifrst">Zambesi, awarded to Great Britain, rumor of, <a href="#Page_110">110</a>;</li> -<li class="isuba">river, <a href="#Page_106">106</a>, <a href="#Page_124">124</a>.</li> - -<li class="ifrst">Zebras, <a href="#Page_72">72</a>, 74.</li> -</ul> - - -<p class="center p0 p2 big">THE END</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>In a few cases, obvious errors or omissions in punctuation were -corrected.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_21">Page 21</a>: “Portuguese War Depatment” changed to “Portuguese War -Department”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_24">Page 24</a>: “hitherto suppoed to” changed to “hitherto supposed to”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_38">Page 38</a>: “been bought themelves” changed to “been bought themselves”</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_47">Page 47</a>: “Under similiar circumstances” changed to “Under similar -circumstances”</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MODERN SLAVERY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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