Black Ivory Read online

  Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

  Black Ivory, by R.M. Ballantyne.

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  Although the book's title Black Ivory denotes dealing in the slave tradeit is not our heroes who are doing it. At the very first chapter thereis a shipwreck, which leaves the son of the charterer of the sinkingship, and a seaman friend of his, alone on the east coast of Africa,where Arab and Portuguese slave traders were still carrying out theirevil trade, despite the great efforts of patrolling British warships tolimit it and free the unfortunates whom they found being carried away inthe Arab dhows.

  Our heroes encountered a slave trader almost at the very spot where theycome ashore, and thereby managed to get to Zanzibar in a British warshipthat had captured the trader's dhow in which our friends had hitched alift.

  At Zanzibar they pick up some funds, and set forth on a journey into theinterior. Here again they encounter the vile trade, but most of thestory deals with other encounters of a more acceptable nature.

  This book will open your eyes to what really went on. At the time ofwriting slave-dealing on the west coast of Africa was, due to theefforts of the British, almost extinct, but this was not the case on theeast coast. Your reviewer found it very moving.

  Makes a good audiobook, of about ten and a half hours duration.

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  BLACK IVORY, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.

  In writing this book, my aim has been to give a true picture in outlineof the Slave Trade as it exists at the present time on the east coast ofAfrica.

  In order to do this I have selected from the most trustworthy sourceswhat I believe to be the most telling points of "the trade," and havewoven these together into a tale, the warp of which is composed of thickcords of fact; the woof of slight lines of fiction, just sufficient tohold the fabric together. Exaggeration has easily beenavoided, because--as Dr Livingstone says in regard to theslave-trade--"exaggeration is impossible."

  If the reader's taste should be offended by finding the tragic and comicelements in too close proximity I trust that he will bear in remembrancethat "such is life," and that the writer who would be true to life mustfollow, not lead, nature.

  I have to acknowledge myself indebted to Dr Ryan, late Bishop ofMauritius; to the Rev. Charles New, interpreter to the LivingstoneSearch Expedition; to Edward Hutchinson, Esquire, Lay Secretary to theChurch Missionary Society, and others, for kindly furnishing me withinformation in connexion with the slave trade.

  Besides examining the Parliamentary Blue-books which treat of thissubject, I have read or consulted, among others, the variousauthoritative works to which reference is made in the foot-notessprinkled throughout this book,--all of which works bear the strongestpossible testimony to the fact that the horrible traffic in human beingsis in all respects as bad at the present time on the east coast ofAfrica as it ever was on the west coast in the days of Wilberforce.

  I began my tale in the hope that I might produce something to interestthe young (perchance, also, the old) in a most momentous cause,--thetotal abolition of the African slave-trade. I close it with the prayerthat God may make it a tooth in the file which shall eventually cut thechains of slavery, and set the black man free.

  R.M. Ballantyne.

  1873

  CHAPTER ONE.

  SHOWS THAT A GOOD BEGINNING MAY SOMETIMES BE FOLLOWED BY A BAD ENDING.

  "Six feet water in the hold, sir!"

  That would not have been a pleasant announcement to the captain of the`Aurora' at any time, but its unpleasantness was vastly increased by thefact that it greeted him near the termination of what had been, up tothat point of time, an exceedingly prosperous voyage.

  "Are you sure, Davis?" asked the captain; "try again."

  He gave the order under the influence of that feeling which is styled"hoping against hope," and himself accompanied the ship's carpenter tosee it obeyed.

  "Six feet two inches," was the result of this investigation.

  The vessel, a large English brig, had sprung a leak, and was rollingheavily in a somewhat rough sea off the east coast of Africa. It was noconsolation to her captain that the shores of the great continent werevisible on his lee, because a tremendous surf roared along the wholeline of coast, threatening destruction to any vessel that should ventureto approach, and there was no harbour of refuge nigh.

  "She's sinking fast, Mr Seadrift," said the captain to a stoutfrank-looking youth of about twenty summers, who leant against thebulwarks and gazed wistfully at the land; "the carpenter cannot find theleak, and the rate at which the water is rising shows that she cannotfloat long."

  "What then do you propose to do?" inquired young Seadrift, with atroubled expression of countenance.

  "Abandon her," replied the captain.

  "Well, _you_ may do so, captain, but I shall not forsake my father'sship as long as she can float. Why not beach her somewhere on thecoast? By so doing we might save part of the cargo, and, at all events,shall have done the utmost that lay in our power."

  "Look at the coast," returned the captain; "where would you beach her?No doubt there is smooth water inside the reef, but the channels throughit, if there be any here, are so narrow that it would be almost certaindeath to make the attempt."

  The youth turned away without replying. He was sorely perplexed. Justbefore leaving England his father had said to him, "Harold, my boy,here's your chance for paying a visit to the land you've read and talkedso much about, and wished so often to travel through. I have chartereda brig, and shall send her out to Zanzibar with a cargo of beads, cottoncloth, brass wire, and such like: what say you to go as supercargo? Ofcourse you won't be able to follow in the steps of Livingstone or MungoPark, but while the brig is at Zanzibar you will have an opportunity ofrunning across the channel, the island being only a few miles from themain, and having a short run up-country to see the niggers, andperchance have a slap at a hippopotamus. I'll line your pockets, sothat you won't lack the sinews of war, without which travel either athome or abroad is but sorry work, and I shall only expect you to give agood account of ship and cargo on your return.--Come, is it fixed?"

  Need we say that Harold leaped joyfully at the proposal? And now, herehe was, called on to abandon the `Aurora' to her fate, as we have said,near the end of a prosperous voyage. No wonder that he was perplexed.

  The crew were fully aware of the state of matters. By the captain'sorders they stood ready to lower the two largest boats, into which theyhad put much of their worldly goods and provisions as they could holdwith safety.

  "Port, port your helm," said the captain to the man at the wheel.

  "Port it is, sir," replied the man at the wheel, who was one of thosebroad-shouldered, big-chested, loose-garmented, wide-trousered,bare-necked, free-and-easy, off-hand jovial tars who have done so much,in years gone by, to increase the wealth and prosperity of the BritishEmpire, and who, although confessedly scarce, are considerately allowedto perish in hundreds annually on our shores for want of a littlereasonable legislation. But cheer up, ye jolly tars! There is aglimmer of sunrise on your political horizon. It really does seem asif, in regard to you, there were at last "a good time coming."

  "Port, port," repeated the captain, with a glance at the compass and thesky.

  "Port it is, sir," again replied the jovial one.

  "Steady! Lower away the boat, lads.--Now, Mr Seadrift," said thecaptain, turning with an air of decision to the young supercargo, "thetime has come for you to make up your mind. The water is rising in thehold, and the ship is, as you see, settling fast down. I need not sayto you that it is with the utmost regret I find it necessary to abandonher; but self-preservatio
n and the duty I owe to my men render the stepabsolutely necessary. Do you intend to go with us?"

  "No, captain, I don't," replied Harold Seadrift firmly. "I do not blameyou for consulting your own safety, and doing what you believe to beyour duty, but I have already said that I shall stick by the ship aslong as she can float."

  "Well, sir, I regret it but you must do as you think best," replied thecaptain, turning away--"Now, lads, jump in."

  The men obeyed, but several of those who were last to quit the shiplooked back and called to the free-and-easy man who still stood at thewheel--"Come along, Disco; we'll have to shove off directly."

  "Shove off w'en you please," replied the man at the wheel, in a deeprich voice, whose tones were indicative of a sort of good-humouredcontempt; "wot I means for to do is to stop where I am. It'll never besaid of Disco Lillihammer that he forsook the owner's son in distress."

  "But you'll go to the bottom, man, if you don't come."

  "Well, wot if I do? I'd raither go to the bottom with a brave man, thanremain at the top with a set o' fine fellers like _you_!"

  Some of the men received this reply with a laugh, others frowned, and afew swore, while some of them looked regretfully at their self-willedshipmate; for it must not be supposed that _all_ the tars who float uponthe sea are of the bold, candid, open-handed type, though we reallybelieve that a large proportion of them are so.

  Be this as it may, the boats left the brig, and were soon far astern.

  "Thank you, Lillihammer," said Harold, going up and grasping the hornyhand of the self-sacrificing sea-dog. "This is very kind of you, thoughI fear it may cost you your life. But it is too late to talk of that;we must fix on some plan, and act at once."

  "The werry thing, sir," said Disco quietly, "that wos runnin' in my ownmind, 'cos it's werry clear that we hain't got too many minits to sparein confabilation."

  "Well, what do you suggest?"

  "Arter you, sir," said Disco, pulling his forelock; "you are captingnow, an' ought to give orders."

  "Then I think the best thing we can do," rejoined Harold, "is to makestraight for the shore, search for an opening in the reef, run through,and beach the vessel on the sand. What say you?"

  "As there's nothin' else left for us to do," replied Disco, "that's'zactly wot I think too, an' the sooner we does it the better."

  "Down with the helm, then," cried Harold, springing forward, "and I'llease off the sheets."

  In a few minutes the `Aurora' was surging before a stiff breeze towardsthe line of foam which indicated the outlying reef, and inside of whichall was comparatively calm.

  "If we only manage to get inside," said Harold, "we shall do well."

  Disco made no reply. His whole attention was given to steering thebrig, and running his eyes anxiously along the breakers, the sound ofwhich increased to a thunderous roar as they drew near.

  "There seems something like a channel yonder," said Harold, pointinganxiously to a particular spot in the reef.

  "I see it, sir," was the curt reply.

  A few minutes more of suspense, and the brig drove into the supposedchannel, and struck with such violence that the foremast snapped offnear the deck, and went over the side.

  "God help us, we're lost!" exclaimed Harold, as a towering wave liftedthe vessel up and hurled her like a plaything on the rocks.

  "Stand by to jump, sir," cried Disco. Another breaker came roaring inat the moment, overwhelmed the brig, rolled her over on her beam-ends,and swept the two men out of her. They struggled gallantly to freethemselves from the wreck, and, succeeding with difficulty, swam acrossthe sheltered water to the shore, on which they finally landed.

  Harold's first exclamation was one of thankfulness for theirdeliverance, to which Disco replied with a hearty "Amen!" and thenturning round and surveying the coast, while he slowly thrust his handsinto his wet trouser-pockets, wondered whereabouts in the world they hadgot to.

  "To the east coast of Africa, to be sure," observed the youngsupercargo, with a slight smile, as he wrung the water out of the footof his trousers, "the place we were bound for, you know."

  "Werry good; so here we are--come to an anchor! Well, I only wish," headded, sitting down on a piece of driftwood, and rummaging in thepockets before referred to, as if in search of something--"I only wishI'd kep' on my weskit, 'cause all my 'baccy's there, and it would be arael comfort to have a quid in the circumstances."

  It was fortunate for the wrecked voyagers that the set of the currenthad carried portions of their vessel to the shore, at a considerabledistance from the spot where they had landed, because a band of natives,armed with spears and bows and arrows, had watched the wreck from theneighbouring heights, and had hastened to that part of the coast onwhich they knew from experience the cargo would be likely to drift. Theheads of the swimmers being but small specks in the distance, hadescaped observation. Thus they had landed unseen. The spot was nearthe entrance to a small river or creek, which was partially concealed bythe formation of the land and by mangrove trees.

  Harold was the first to observe that they had not been cast on anuninhabited shore. While gazing round him, and casting about in hismind what was best to be done, he heard shouts, and hastening to a rockypoint that hid part of the coast from his view looked cautiously over itand saw the natives. He beckoned to Disco, who joined him.

  "They haven't a friendly look about 'em," observed the seaman, "andthey're summat scant in the matter of clothin'."

  "Appearances are often deceptive," returned his companion, "but I so faragree with you that I think our wisest course will be to retire into thewoods, and there consult as to our future proceedings, for it is quitecertain that as we cannot live on sand and salt water, neither can wesafely sleep in wet clothes or on the bare ground in a climate likethis."

  Hastening towards the entrance to the creek, the unfortunate pairentered the bushes, through which they pushed with some difficulty,until they gained a spot sufficiently secluded for their purpose, whenthey observed that they had passed through a belt of underwood, beyondwhich there appeared to be an open space. A few steps further and theycame out on a sort of natural basin formed by the creek, in whichfloated a large boat of a peculiar construction, with verypiratical-looking lateen sails. Their astonishment at this unexpectedsight was increased by the fact that on the opposite bank of the creekthere stood several men armed with muskets, which latter wereimmediately pointed at their breasts.

  The first impulse of the shipwrecked friends was to spring back into thebushes--the second to advance and hold up their empty hands to show thatthey were unarmed.

  "Hold on," exclaimed Disco, in a free and easy confidential tone; "we'refriends, we are; shipwrecked mariners we is, so ground arms, my lads,an' make your minds easy."

  One of the men made some remark to another, who, from his Orientaldress, was easily recognised by Harold as one of the Arab traders of thecoast. His men appeared to be half-castes.

  The Arab nodded gravely, and said something which induced his men tolower their muskets. Then with a wave of his hand he invited thestrangers to come over the creek to him.

  This was rendered possible by the breadth of the boat already mentionedbeing so great that, while one side touched the right bank of the creek,the other was within four or five feet of the left.

  Without hesitation Harold Seadrift bounded lightly from the bank to thehalf-deck of the boat, and, stepping ashore, walked up to the Arab,closely followed by his companion.

  "Do you speak English?" asked Harold.

  The Arab shook his head and said, "Arabic, Portuguese."

  Harold therefore shook _his_ head;--then, with a hopeful look, said"French?" interrogatively.

  The Arab repeated the shake of his head, but after a moments' thoughtsaid, "I know littil Engleesh; speak, where comes you?"

  "We have been wrecked," began Harold (the Arab glanced gravely at hisdripping clothes, as if to say, I had guessed as much), "and this manand I are the only survivo
rs of the crew of our ship--at least the onlytwo who swam on shore, the others went off in a boat."

  "Come you from man-of-war?" asked the Arab, with a keen glance at thecandid countenance of the youth.

  "No, our vessel was a trader bound for Zanzibar. She now lies infragments on the shore, and we have escaped with nothing but the clotheson our backs. Can you tell us whether there is a town or a village inthe neighbourhood? for, as you see, we stand sadly in need of clothing,food, and shelter. We have no money, but we have good muscles and stouthearts, and could work our way well enough, I doubt not."

  Young Seadrift said this modestly, but the remark was unnecessary, forit would have been quite obvious to a man of much less intelligence thanthe Arab that a youth who, although just entering on the age of manhood,was six feet high, deep-chested, broad-shouldered, and as lithe as akitten, could not find any difficulty in working his way, while hiscompanion, though a little older, was evidently quite as capable.

  "There be no town, no village, for fifty miles from where you stand,"replied the Arab.

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Harold in surprise, for he had always supposed theEast African coast to be rather populous.

  "That's a blue look-out anyhow," observed Disco, "for it necessitatesstarvation, unless this good gentleman will hire us to work his craft.It ain't very ship-shape to be sure, but anything of a seagoin' craftcomes more or less handy to an old salt."

  The trader listened with the politeness and profound gravity that seemsto be characteristic of Orientals, but by no sign or expression showedwhether he understood what was said.

  "_I_ go to Zanzibar," said he, turning to Harold, "and will take you,--so you wish."

  There was something sinister in the man's manner which Harold did notlike, but as he was destitute, besides being in the Arab's power, andutterly ignorant of the country, he thought it best to put a good faceon matters, and therefore thanked him for his kind offer, and assuredhim that on reaching Zanzibar he would be in a position to pay for hispassage as well as that of his friend.

  "May I ask," continued Harold, "what your occupation is?"

  "I am trader."

  Harold thought he would venture another question:--

  "In what sort of goods do you trade?"

  "Ivory. Some be white, an' some be what your contrymans do call black."

  "Black!" exclaimed Harold, in surprise.

  "Yees, black," replied the trader. "White ivory do come from theelephant--hims tusk; Black Ivory do come,"--he smiled slightly at thispoint--"from the land everywheres. It bees our chef artikil of trade."

  "Indeed! I never heard of it before."

  "No?" replied the trader; "you shall see it much here. But I go talkwith my mans. Wait."

  Saying this, in a tone which savoured somewhat unpleasantly of command,the Arab went towards a small hut near to which his men were standing,and entered into conversation with them.

  It was evident that they were ill pleased with what he said at first forthere was a good deal of remonstrance in their tones, while they pointedfrequently in a certain direction which seemed to indicate thecoast-line; but by degrees their tones changed, and they laughed andchuckled a good deal, as if greatly tickled by the speech of the Arab,who, however, maintained a look of dignified gravity all the time.

  "I don't like the looks o' them fellers," remarked Disco, afterobserving them in silence for some time. "They're a cut-throat set, I'mquite sure, an' if you'll take my advice, Mister Seadrift, we'll give'em the slip, an' try to hunt up one o' the native villages. Ishouldn't wonder, now, if that chap was a slave-trader."

  "The same idea has occurred to myself, Disco," replied Harold, "and Iwould willingly leave him if I thought there was a town or villagewithin twenty miles of us; but we are ignorant on that point and I haveheard enough of the African climate to believe that it might cost us ourlives if we were obliged to spend a night in the jungle without fire,food, or covering, and with nothing on but a wet flannel shirt and pairof canvas breeches. No, no, lad, we must not risk it. Besides,although some Arabs are slave-traders, it does not follow that all are.This fellow may turn out better than he looks."

  Disco Lillihammer experienced some sensations of surprise on hearing hisyoung friend's remarks on the climate, for he knew nothing whateverabout that of Africa, having sailed chiefly in the Arctic Seas as awhaler,--and laboured under the delusion that no climate under the suncould in any degree affect his hardy and well-seasoned frame. He wastoo respectful, however, to let his thoughts be known.

  Meanwhile the Arab returned.

  "I sail this night," he said, "when moon go down. That not far beforemidnight. You mus keep by boat here--close. If you go this way or thatthe niggers kill you. They not come _here_; they know I is here. I golook after my goods and chattels--my Black Ivory."

  "Mayn't we go with 'ee, mister--what's your name?"

  "My name?--Yoosoof," replied the Arab, in a tone and with a look whichwere meant to command respect.

  "Well, Mister Yoosoof," continued Disco, "if we may make bold to axleave for to go with 'ee, we could lend 'ee a helpin' hand, d'ye see, tocarry yer goods an' chattels down to the boat."

  "There is no need," said Yoosoof, waving his hand, and pointing to thehut before mentioned. "Go; you can rest till we sail. Sleep; you willneed it. There is littil rice in hut--eat that, and make fire, dryyouselfs."

  So saying, the Arab left them by a path leading into the woods, alongwhich his men, who were Portuguese half-castes, had preceded him.

  "Make fire indeed!" exclaimed Disco, as he walked with his companion tothe hut; "one would think, from the free-and-easy way in which he tellsus to make it, that he's in the habit himself of striking it out o' thepoint o' his own nose, or some such convenient fashion."

  "More likely to flash it out of his eyes, I should think," said Harold;"but, see here, the fellow knew what he was talking about. There isfire among these embers on the hearth."

  "That's true," replied Disco, going down on his knees, and blowing themcarefully.

  In a few minutes a spark leaped into a flame, wood was heaped on, andthe flame speedily became a rousing fire, before which they dried theirgarments, while a pot of rice was put on to boil.

  Scarcely had they proceeded thus far in their preparations, when twomen, armed with muskets, were seen to approach, leading a negro girlbetween them. As they drew nearer, it was observable that the girl hada brass ring round her neck, to which a rope was attached.

  "A slave!" exclaimed Disco vehemently, while the blood rushed to hisface; "let's set her free!"

  The indignant seaman had half sprung to his legs before Harold seizedand pulled him forcibly back.

  "Be quiet man," said Harold quickly. "If we _could_ free her byfighting, I would help you, but we can't. Evidently we have got into anest of slavers. Rashness will only bring about our own death. Bewise; bide your time, and we may live to do some good yet."

  He stopped abruptly, for the new comers had reached the top of thewinding path that led to the hut.

  A look of intense surprise overspread the faces of the two men when theyentered and saw the Englishmen sitting comfortably by the fire, andboth, as if by instinct threw forward the muzzles of their muskets.

  "Oh! come in, come in, make your minds easy," cried Disco, in ahalf-savage tone, despite the warning he had received; "we're all_friends_ here--leastwise we can't help ourselves."

  Fortunately for our mariner the men did not understand him, and beforethey could make up their minds what to think of it, or how to act Haroldrose, and, with a polite bow, invited them to enter.

  "Do you understand English?" he asked.

  A frown, and a decided shake of the head from both men, was the reply.The poor negro girl cowered behind her keepers, as if she feared thatviolence were about to ensue.

  Having tried French with a like result, Harold uttered the name,"Yoosoof," and pointed in the direction in which the trader had enteredthe woods.

  The me
n looked intelligently at each other, and nodded.

  Then Harold said "Zanzibar," and pointed in the direction in which hesupposed that island lay.

  Again the men glanced at each other, and nodded. Harold next said"Boat--dhow," and pointed towards the creek, which remark and sign werereceived as before.

  "Good," he continued, slapping himself on the chest, and pointing to hiscompanion, "_I_ go to Zanzibar, _he_ goes, _she_ goes," (pointing to thegirl), "_you_ go, and Yoosoof goes--all in the dhow together toZanzibar--to-night--when moon goes down. D'ee understand? Now then,come along and have some rice."

  He finished up by slapping one of the men on the shoulder, and liftingthe kettle off the fire, for the rice had already been cooked and onlywanted warming.

  The men looked once again at each other, nodded, laughed, and sat downon a log beside the fire, opposite to the Englishmen.

  They were evidently much perplexed by the situation, and, not knowingwhat to make of it, were disposed in the meantime to be friendly.

  While they were busy with the rice, Disco gazed in silent wonder, andwith intense pity, at the slave-girl, who sat a little to one side ofher guardians on a mat, her small hands folded together resting on oneknee, her head drooping, and her eyes cast down. The enthusiastic tarfound it very difficult to restrain his feelings. He had heard, ofcourse, more or less about African slavery from shipmates, but he hadnever read about it, and had never seriously given his thoughts to it,although his native sense of freedom, justice, and fair-play had rouseda feeling of indignation in his breast whenever the subject chanced tobe discussed by him and his mates. But now, for the first time in hislife, suddenly and unexpectedly, he was brought face to face withslavery. No wonder that he was deeply moved.

  "Why, Mister Seadrift," he said, in the confidential tone of one whoimparts a new discovery, "I do honestly confess to 'ee that I thinkthat's a _pretty_ girl!"

  "I quite agree with you," replied Harold, smiling.

  "Ay, but I mean _really_ pretty, you know. I've always thought that allniggers had ugly flat noses an' thick blubber lips. But look at thatone: her lips are scarce a bit thicker than those of many a good-lookinglass in England, and they don't stick out at all, and her nose ain'tflat a bit. It's quite as good as my Nancy's nose, an' that's sayin' agood deal, _I_ tell 'ee. Moreover, she ain't black--she's brown."

  It is but justice to Disco to say that he was right in his observations,and to explain that the various negro tribes in Africa differ verymaterially from each other; some of them, as we are told by DrLivingstone, possessing little of what, in our eyes, seems thecharacteristic ugliness of the negro--such as thick lips, flat noses,protruding heels, etcetera,--but being in every sense handsome races ofhumanity.

  The slave-girl whom Disco admired and pitied so much belonged to one ofthese tribes, and, as was afterwards ascertained, had been brought fromthe far interior. She appeared to be very young, nevertheless there wasa settled expression of meek sorrow and suffering on her face; andthough handsomely formed, she was extremely thin, no doubt fromprolonged hardships on the journey down to the coast.

  "Here, have somethin' to eat," exclaimed Disco, suddenly filling a tinplate with rice, and carrying it to the girl, who, however, shook herhead without raising her eyes.

  "You're not hungry, poor thing," said the seaman, in a disappointedtone; "you look as if you should be. Come, try it," he added, stooping,and patting her head.

  The poor child looked up as if frightened, and shrank from the seaman'stouch, but on glancing a second time in his honest face, she appeared tofeel confidence in him. Nevertheless, she would not touch the riceuntil her guardians said something to her sternly, when she began to eatwith an appetite that was eloquent.

  "Come, now, tell us what your name is, lass," said Disco, when she hadfinished the rice.

  Of course the girl shook her head, but appeared to wish to understandthe question, while the Portuguese laughed and seemed amused with theEnglishman's eccentricities.

  "Look here, now," resumed the tar, slapping his own chest vigorously,"Disco, Disco, Disco, that's me--Disco. And this man," (patting hiscompanion on the breast) "is Harold, Harold, that's him--Harold. Now,then," he added, pointing straight at the girl, "you--what's you name,eh?"

  A gleam of intelligence shot from the girl's expressive eyes, and shedisplayed a double row of beautiful teeth as in a low soft voice shesaid--"Azinte."

  "Azinte? come, that's not a bad name; why, it's a capital one. Justsuited to 'ee. Well, Azinte, my poor girl," said Disco, with a freshoutburst of feeling, as he clenched his horny right hand and dashed itinto the palm of his left, "if I only knew how to set you free just now,my dear, I'd do it--ay, if I was to be roasted alive for so doin'. Iwould!"

  "You'll never set anybody free in this world," said Harold Seadrift,with some severity, "if you go on talking and acting as you have doneto-day. If these men had not, by good fortune, been ignorant of ourlanguage, it's my opinion that they would have blown our brains outbefore this time. You should restrain yourself, man," he continued,gradually dropping into a remonstrative and then into an earnestlyconfidential tone; "we are utterly helpless just now. If you didsucceed in freeing that girl at this moment, it would only be to let herfall into the hands of some other slave-owner. Besides, that would notset free all the other slaves, male and female, who are being draggedfrom the interior of Africa. You and I _may_ perhaps do some smallmatter in the way of helping to free slaves, if we keep quiet and watchour opportunity, but we shall accomplish nothing if you give way touseless bursts of anger."

  Poor Lillihammer was subdued.

  "You're right Mister Seadrift, you're right, sir, and I'm a ass. Inever _could_ keep my feelings down. It's all along of my havin' binmade too much of by my mother, dear old woman, w'en I was a boy. ButI'll make a effort, sir; I'll clap a stopper on 'em--bottle 'em up andscrew 'em down tight, werry tight indeed."

  Disco again sent his right fist into the palm of his left hand, withsomething like the sound of a pistol-shot to the no small surprise andalarm of the Portuguese, and, rising, went out to cool his heated browin the open air.