Jules Verne (41 page)

One of these victims, she who bore the title of second wife, was bent
on her hands and knees, to serve as a royal footstool, as she had done
in the king's lifetime. The third wife came to hold up the manikin,
while the fourth lay at its feet, in the guise of a cushion.

Before the manikin, at the end of the ditch, a post, painted red, rose
from the earth. To this post was fastened a white man, who was going
to be counted also among the victims of these bloody obsequies.

That white man was Dick Sand. His body, half naked, bore the marks of
the tortures he had already suffered by Negoro's orders. Tied to this
post, he waited for death like a man who has no hope except in another
life.

However, the moment had not yet arrived when the barricade would be
broken.

On a signal from the queen, the fourth wife, she who was placed at the
king's feet, was beheaded by Kazounde's executioner, and her blood
flowed into the ditch. It was the beginning of a frightful scene of
butchery. Fifty slaves fell under the executioner's knife. The bed of
the river ran waves of blood.

During half an hour the victims' cries mingled with the assistants'
vociferations, and one would seek in vain in that crowd for a
sentiment of repugnance or of pity.

At last Queen Moini made a gesture, and the barricade that held back
the upper waters gradually opened. By a refinement of cruelty, the
current was allowed to filter down the river, instead of being
precipitated by an instantaneous bursting open of the dam. Slow death
instead of quick death!

The water first drowned the carpet of slaves which covered the bottom
of the ditch. Horrible leaps were made by those living creatures,
who struggled against asphyxia. They saw Dick Sand, submerged to the
knees, make a last effort to break his bonds. But the water mounted.
The last heads disappeared under the torrent, that took its course
again, and nothing indicated that at the bottom of this river was
dug a tomb, where one hundred victims had just perished in honor of
Kazounde's king.

The pen would refuse to paint such pictures, if regard for the truth
did not impose the duty of describing them in their abominable
reality. Man is still there, in those sad countries. To be ignorant of
it is not allowable.

Harris and Negoro had told a lie in saying that Mrs. Weldon and
little Jack were dead. She, her son, and Cousin Benedict were then in
Kazounde.

After the assault on the ant-hill, they had been taken away beyond the
camp on the Coanza by Harris and Negoro, accompanied by a dozen native
soldiers.

A palanquin, the "kitanda" of the country, received Mrs. Weldon and
little Jack. Why such care on the part of such a man as Negoro? Mrs.
Weldon was afraid to explain it to herself.

The journey from the Counza to Kazounde was made rapidly and without
fatigue. Cousin Benedict, on whom trouble seemed to have no effect,
walked with a firm step. As he was allowed to search to the right and
to the left, he did not think of complaining. The little troop, then,
arrived at Kazounde eight days before Ibn Hamis's caravan. Mrs.
Weldon was shut up, with her child and Cousin Benedict, in Alvez's
establishment.

Little Jack was much better. On leaving the marshy country, where he
had taken the fever, he gradually became better, and now he was
doing well. No doubt neither he nor his mother could have borne the
hardships of the caravan; but owing to the manner in which they had
made this journey, during which they had been given a certain amount
of care, they were in a satisfactory condition, physically at least.

As to her companions, Mrs. Weldon had heard nothing of them. After
having seen Hercules flee into the forest, she did not know what had
become of him. As to Dick Sand, as Harris and Negoro were no longer
there to torture him, she hoped that his being a white man would
perhaps spare him some bad treatment. As to Nan, Tom, Bat, Austin, and
Acteon, they were blacks, and it was too certain that they would be
treated as such. Poor people! who should never have trodden that land
of Africa, and whom treachery had just cast there.

When Ibn Hamis's caravan had arrived at Kazounde, Mrs. Weldon, having
no communication with the outer world, could not know of the fact:
neither did the noises from the
lakoni
tell her anything. She did
not know that Tom and his friends had been sold to a trader from
Oujiji, and that they would soon set out. She neither knew of Harris's
punishment, nor of King Moini Loungga's death, nor of the royal
funeral ceremonies, that had added Dick Sand to so many other victims.
So the unfortunate woman found herself alone at Kazounde, at the
trader's mercy, in Negoro's power, and she could not even think of
dying in order to escape him, because her child was with her.

Mrs. Weldon was absolutely ignorant of the fate that awaited her.
Harris and Negoro had not addressed a word to her during the whole
journey from the Coanza to Kazounde. Since her arrival, she had not
seen either of them again, and she could not leave the enclosure
around the rich trader's private establishment. Is it necessary to
say now that Mrs. Weldon had found no help in her large child, Cousin
Benedict? That is understood.

When the worthy savant learned that he was not on the American
continent, as he believed, he was not at all anxious to know how that
could have happened. No! His first movement was a gesture of anger.
The insects that he imagined he had been the first to discover in
America, those
tsetses
and others, were only mere African hexapodes,
found by many naturalists before him, in their native places.
Farewell, then, to the glory of attaching his name to those
discoveries! In fact, as he was in Africa, what could there be
astonishing in the circumstance that Cousin Benedict had collected
African insects.

But the first anger over, Cousin Benedict said to himself that the
"Land of the Pharaohs"—so he still called it—possessed incomparable
entomological riches, and that so far as not being in the "Land of the
Incas" was concerned, he would not lose by the change.

"Ah!" he repeated, to himself, and even repeated to Mrs. Weldon, who
hardly listened to him, "this is the country of the
manticores
,
those coleopteres with long hairy feet, with welded and sharp
wing-shells, with enormous mandibles, of which the most remarkable is
the tuberculous
manticore
. It is the country of the
calosomes
with
golden ends; of the Goliaths of Guinea and of the Gabon, whose feet
are furnished with thorns; of the sacred Egyptian
ateuchus
, that
the Egyptians of Upper Egypt venerated as gods. It is here that those
sphinxes with heads of death, now spread over all Europe, belong, and
also those 'Idias Bigote,' whose sting is particularly dreaded by the
Senegalians of the coast. Yes; there are superb things to be found
here, and I shall find them, if these honest people will only let me."

We know who those "honest people" were, of whom Cousin Benedict
did not dream of complaining. Besides, it has been stated, the
entomologist had enjoyed a half liberty in Negoro's and Harris's
company, a liberty of which Dick Sand had absolutely deprived him
during the voyage from the coast to the Coanza. The simple-hearted
savant had been very much touched by that condescension.

Finally, Cousin Benedict would be the happiest of entomologists if he
had not suffered a loss to which he was extremely sensitive. He still
possessed his tin box, but his glasses no longer rested on his nose,
his magnifying glass no longer hung from his neck! Now, a naturalist
without his magnifying glass and his spectacles, no longer exists.
Cousin Benedict, however, was destined never to see those two optical
attendants again, because they had been buried with the royal manikin.
So, when he found some insect, he was reduced to thrusting it into his
eyes to distinguish its most prominent peculiarities. Ah! it was a
great loss to Cousin Benedict, and he would have paid a high price
for a pair of spectacles, but that article was not current on the
lakonis
of Kazounde. At all events, Cousin Benedict could go and
come in Jose-Antonio Alvez's establishment. They knew he was incapable
of seeking to flee. Besides, a high palisade separated the factory
from the other quarters of the city, and it would not be easy to get
over it.

But, if it was well enclosed, this enclosure did not measure less than
a mile in circumference. Trees, bushes of a kind peculiar to Africa,
great herbs, a few rivulets, the thatch of the barracks and the huts,
were more than necessary to conceal the continent's rarest insects,
and to make Cousin Benedict's happiness, at least, if not his fortune.
In fact, he discovered some hexapodes, and nearly lost his eyesight in
trying to study them without spectacles. But, at least, he added to
his precious collection, and laid the foundation of a great work on
African entomology. If his lucky star would let him discover a new
insect, to which he would attach his name, he would have nothing more
to desire in this world!

If Alvez's establishment was sufficiently large for Cousin Benedict's
scientific promenades, it seemed immense to little Jack, who could
walk about there without restraint. But the child took little interest
in the pleasures so natural to his age. He rarely quitted his
mother, who did not like to leave him alone, and always dreaded some
misfortune.

Little Jack often spoke of his father, whom he had not seen for so
long. He asked to be taken back to him. He inquired after all, for old
Nan, for his friend Hercules, for Bat, for Austin, for Acteon, and for
Dingo, that appeared, indeed, to have deserted him. He wished to see
his comrade, Dick Sand, again. His young imagination was very much
affected, and only lived in those remembrances. To his questions Mrs.
Weldon could only reply by pressing him to her heart, while covering
him with kisses. All that she could do was not to cry before him.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weldon had not failed to observe that, if bad
treatment had been spared her during the journey from the Coanza,
nothing in Alvez's establishment indicated that there would be any
change of conduct in regard to her. There were in the factory only
the slaves in the trader's service. All the others, which formed
the object of his trade, had been penned up in the barracks of the
tchitoka
, then sold to the brokers from the interior.

Now, the storehouses of the establishment were overflowing with stuffs
and ivory. The stuffs were intended to be exchanged in the provinces
of the center, the ivory to be exported from the principal markets of
the continent.

In fact, then, there were few people in the factory. Mrs. Weldon and
Jack occupied a hut apart; Cousin Benedict another. They did not
communicate with the trader's servants. They ate together. The food,
consisting of goat's flesh or mutton, vegetables, tapioca,
sorgho
,
and the fruits of the country, was sufficient.

Halima, a young slave, was especially devoted to Mrs. Weldon's
service. In her way, and as she could, she even evinced for her a kind
of savage, but certainty sincere, affection.

Mrs. Weldon hardly saw Jose-Antonio Alvez, who occupied the principal
house of the factory. She did not see Negoro at all, as he lodged
outside; but his absence was quite inexplicable. This absence
continued to astonish her, and make her feel anxious at the same time.

"What does he want? What is he waiting for?" she asked herself. "Why
has he brought us to Kazounde?"

So had passed the eight days that preceded and followed the arrival
of Ibn Hamis's caravan—that is, the two days before the funeral
ceremonies, and the six days that followed.

In the midst of so many anxieties, Mrs. Weldon could not forget that
her husband must be a prey to the most frightful despair, on not
seeing either his wife or his son return to San Francisco. Mr. Weldon
could not know that his wife had adopted that fatal idea of taking
passage on board the "Pilgrim," and he would believe that she had
embarked on one of the steamers of the Trans-Pacific Company. Now,
these steamers arrived regularly, and neither Mrs. Weldon, nor Jack,
nor Cousin Benedict were on them. Besides, the "Pilgrim" itself was
already overdue at Sun Francisco. As she did not reappear, James W.
Weldon must now rank her in the category of ships supposed to be lost,
because not heard of.

What a terrible blow for him, when news of the departure of the
"Pilgrim" and the embarkation of Mrs. Weldon should reach him from
his correspondents in Auckland! What had he done? Had he refused to
believe that his son and she had perished at sea? But then, where
would he search? Evidently on the isles of the Pacific, perhaps on the
American coast. But never, no never, would the thought occur to him
that she had been thrown on the coast of this fatal Africa!

So thought Mrs. Weldon. But what could she attempt? Flee! How? She
was closely watched. And then to flee was to venture into those thick
forests, in the midst of a thousand dangers, to attempt a journey of
more than two hundred miles to reach the coast. And meanwhile Mrs.
Weldon was decided to do it, if no other means offered themselves for
her to recover her liberty. But, first, she wished to know exactly
what Negoro's designs were.

At last she knew them.

On the 6th of June, three days after the burial of Kazounde's king,
Negoro entered the factory, where he had not yet set foot since his
return. He went right to the hut occupied by his prisoner.

Mrs. Weldon was alone. Cousin Benedict was taking one of his
scientific walks. Little Jack, watched by the slave Halima, was
walking in the enclosure of the establishment.

Negoro pushed open the door of the hut without knocking.