Black Ivory by R. M. Ballantyne (best ereader for graphic novels TXT) 📕

and worn-out slaves louder than a sigh or a half-suppressed wail, with now and then a shriek of pain when some of the weaker among them were quickened into activity by the lash.

When all had been embarked, two of the five boats still remained empty, but Yoosoof had a pretty good idea of the particular points along the coast where more “cattle” of a similar kind could be purchased. Therefore, after stationing some of his men, armed with muskets, to guard the boats, he returned with the remainder of them to the hut in which the Englishmen had been left.

There he found Azinté and her guardians. He seemed angry with the latter at first, but after a few minutes’ thought appeared to recover his equanimity, and ordered the men to remove the ropes with which the girl was tethered; then bidding her follow him he left the hut without taking any notice of the Englishmen further than to say he would be back shortly before the time of sailing.

Yoosoof’s motions were usually slow and his mien somewhat dignified, but, when occasion required, he could throw off his Oriental dignity and step out with the activity of a monkey. It was so on this occasion, insomuch that Azinté was obliged occasionally to run in order to keep up with him. Proceeding about two miles in the woods along the shore without halt, he came out at length on the margin of a bay, at the head of which lay a small town. It was a sorry-looking place, composed of wretchedly built houses, most of which were thatched with the leaves of the cocoa-nut palm.

Nevertheless, such as it was, it possessed a mud fort, an army of about thirty soldiers, composed of Portuguese convicts who had been sent there as a punishment for many crimes, a Governor, who was understood to be honourable, having been placed there by his Excellency the Governor-General at Mozambique, who had been himself appointed by His Most Faithful Majesty the King of Portugal.

It was in quest of this Governor that Yoosoof bent his rapid steps. Besides all the advantages above enumerated, the town drove a small trade in ivory, ebony, indigo, orchella weed, gum copal, cocoa-nut oil, and other articles of native produce, and a very large (though secret) trade in human bodies and—we had almost written—souls, but the worthy people who dwelt there could not fetter souls, although they could, and very often did, set them free.

Senhor Francisco Alfonso Toledo Bignoso Letotti, the Governor, was seated at the open window of his parlour, just before Yoosoof made his appearance, conversing lightly with his only daughter, the Senhorina Maraquita, a beautiful brunette of about eighteen summers, who had been brought up and educated in Portugal.

The Governor’s wife had died a year before this time in Madrid, and the Senhorina had gone to live with her father on the east coast of Africa, at which place she had arrived just six weeks previous to the date of the opening of our tale.

Among the various boats and vessels at anchor in the bay, were seen the tapering masts of a British war-steamer. The Senhorina and her sire were engaged in a gossiping criticism of the officers of this vessel when Yoosoof was announced. Audience was immediately granted.

Entering the room, with Azinté close behind him, the Arab stopped abruptly on beholding Maraquita, and bowed gravely.

“Leave us, my child,” said the Governor, in Portuguese; “I have business to transact with this man.”

“And why may not I stay to assist you, father, in this wonderful man-mystery of transacting business?” asked Maraquita, with an arch smile.

“Whenever you men want to get rid of women you frighten them away with business! If you wish not to explain something to us, you shake your wise heads, and call it business! Is it not so?—Come, Arab,” she added, turning with a sprightly air to Yoosoof, “you are a trader, I suppose; all Arabs are, I am told. Well, what sort of wares have you got to sell?”

Yoosoof smiled slightly as he stepped aside and pointed to Azinté.

The speaking countenance of the Portuguese girl changed as if by magic. She had seen little and thought little about slavery during the brief period of her residence on the coast, and had scarcely realised the fact that Sambo, with the thick lips—her father’s gardener—or the black cook and house-maids, were slaves. It was the first entrance of a new idea with something like power into her mind when she saw a delicate, mild-looking, and pretty negro girl actually offered for sale.

Before she could bethink herself of any remark the door opened, and in walked, unannounced, a man on whose somewhat handsome countenance villainy was clearly stamped.

“Ha! Marizano,” exclaimed Senhor Letotti, rising, “you have thought better of it, I presume?”

“I have, and I agree to your arrangement,” replied Marizano, in an off-hand, surly tone.

“There is nothing like necessity,” returned the Governor, with a laugh. “’Twere better to enjoy a roving life for a short time with a lightish purse in one’s pocket, than to attempt to keep a heavy purse with the addition of several ounces of lead in one’s breast! How say you?”

Marizano smiled and shrugged his broad shoulders, but made no reply, for just then his attention had been attracted to the slave-girl.

“For sale?” he inquired of the Arab carelessly.

Yoosoof bowed his head slightly.

“How much?”

“Come, come, gentlemen,” interposed the Governor, with a laugh and a glance at his daughter, “you can settle this matter elsewhere. Yoosoof has come here to talk with me on other matters.—Now, Maraquita dear, you had better retire for a short time.”

When the Senhorina had somewhat unwillingly obeyed, the Governor turned to Yoosoof: “I presume you have no objection to Marizano’s presence during our interview, seeing that he is almost as well acquainted with your affairs as yourself?”

As Yoosoof expressed no objection, the three drew their chairs together and sat down to a prolonged private and very interesting palaver.

We do not mean to try the reader’s patience by dragging him through the whole of it; nevertheless, a small portion of what was said is essential to the development of our tale.

“Well, then, be it as you wish, Yoosoof,” said the Governor, folding up a fresh cigarette; “you are one of the most active traders on the coast, and never fail to keep correct accounts with your Governor. You deserve encouragement but I fear that you run considerable risk.”

“I know that; but those who make much must risk much.”

“Bravo!” exclaimed Marizano, with hearty approval; “nevertheless those who risk most do not always make most. Contrast yourself with me, now. You risk your boats and cattle, and become rich. I risk my life, and behold! I am fleeced. I have little or nothing left, barely enough to buy yonder girl from you—though I think I have enough for that.”

He pointed as he spoke to Azinté, who still stood on the spot where she had been left near the door.

“Tell me,” resumed Senhor Letotti, “how do you propose to elude the English cruiser? for I know that her captain has got wind of your whereabouts, and is determined to watch the coast closely—and let me tell you, he is a vigorous, intelligent man.”

“You tell me he has a number of captured slaves already in his ship?” said Yoosoof.

“Yes, some hundreds, I believe.”

“He must go somewhere to land these, I presume?” rejoined the Arab.

Yoosoof referred here to the fact that when a British cruiser engaged in the suppression of the slave-trade on the east coast of Africa has captured a number of slaves, she is under the necessity of running to the Seychelles Islands, Aden, or some other British port of discharge, to land them there as free men, because, were she to set them free on any part of the coast of Africa, belonging either to Portugal or the Sultan of Zanzibar, they would certainly be recaptured and again enslaved. When therefore the cruisers are absent—it may be two or three weeks on this duty, the traders in human flesh of course make the most of their opportunity to run cargoes of slaves to those ports in Arabia and Persia where they always find a ready market.

On the present occasion Yoosoof conceived that the captain of the ‘Firefly’ might be obliged to take this course to get rid of the negroes already on board, who were of course consuming his provisions, besides being an extremely disagreeable cargo, many of them being diseased and covered with sores, owing to their cruel treatment on board the slave-dhows.

“He won’t go, however, till he has hunted the coast north and south for you, so he assures me,” said the Governor, with a laugh.

“Well, I must start to-night, therefore I shall give him a small pill to swallow which will take him out of the way,” said Yoosoof, rising to leave the room.

“I wish you both success,” said the Governor, as Marizano also rose to depart, “but I fear that you will find the Englishman very troublesome.—Adieu.”

The Arab and the half-caste went out talking earnestly together, and followed by Azinté, and immediately afterwards the Senhorina Maraquita entered hurriedly.

“Father, you must buy that slave-girl for me. I want a pretty slave all to myself,” she said, with unwonted vehemence.

“Impossible, my child,” replied the Governor kindly, for he was very fond as well as proud of his daughter.

“Why impossible? Have you not enough of money?”

“Oh yes, plenty of that, but I fear she is already bespoken, and I should not like to interfere—”

“Bespoken! do you mean sold?” cried Maraquita, seizing her father’s hands, “not sold to that man Marizano?”

“I think she must be by this time, for he’s a prompt man of business, and not easily thwarted when he sets his mind to a thing.”

The Senhorina clasped her hands before her eyes, and stood for a moment motionless, then rushing wildly from the room she passed into another apartment the windows of which commanded a view of a considerable part of the road which led from the house along the shore. There she saw the Arab and his friend walking leisurely along as if in earnest converse, while Azinté followed meekly behind.

The Senhorina stood gazing at them with clenched hands, in an agony of uncertainty as to what course she ought to pursue, and so wrapt up in her thoughts that she failed to observe a strapping young lieutenant of H.M.S. steamer ‘Firefly,’ who had entered the room and stood close to her side.

Now this same lieutenant happened to be wildly in love with Senhorina Maraquita. He had met her frequently at her father’s table, where, in company with his captain, he was entertained with great hospitality, and on which occasions the captain was assisted by the Governor in his investigations into the slave-trade.

Lieutenant Lindsay had taken the romantic plunge with all the charming enthusiasm of inexperienced youth, and entertained the firm conviction that, if Senhorina Maraquita did not become “his,” life would thenceforth be altogether unworthy of consideration; happiness would be a thing of the past, with which he should have nothing more to do, and death at the cannon’s mouth, or otherwise, would be the only remaining gleam of comfort in his dingy future.

“Something distresses you, I fear,” began the lieutenant, not a little perplexed to find the young lady in such a peculiar mood.

Maraquita started, glanced at him a moment, and then, with flashing eyes and heightened colour, pointed at the three figures on the road.

“Yes, Senhor,” she said; “I am distressed—deeply so. Look! do you see yonder two men, and the girl walking behind them?”

“I do.”

“Quick! fly after them and bring them hither—the Arab and the girl I mean—not the other man. Oh, be quick, else they will be out of sight and then she will be lost; quick, if you—if—if you really mean what you have so often told me.”

Poor Lindsay! It was rather a sudden and severe test of fidelity to be sent forth to lay violent hands