But after leaving Mount Linde, naught else remained to do than to go ahead continually eastward. Linde indeed had said that this journey was beyond the strength of an experienced and energetic traveler, but Stas had already acquired a great deal of experience, and as to energy, why, as Nell was concerned, he determined to use as much of it as might be necessary. In the meantime it was essential to spare the strength of the little girl; so he decided to travel only from six until ten o’clock in the forenoon, and to make the second march from three to six in the afternoon only in case that at the first stopping place there was no water.
But in the meantime, as the rain fell during the massica quite copiously, they found water everywhere. The little lakes, formed by the downpours in the valleys, were still well filled, and from the mountains flowed here and there streams, pouring crystalline, cool water in which bathing was excellent and at the same time absolutely safe, for crocodiles live only in the greater waters in which fish, which form their usual food, are to be found.
Stas, however, did not permit the little girl to drink crude water as he had inherited from Linde a filter whose action always filled Kali and Mea with amazement. Both seeing how the filter, immerged in a turbid, whitish liquid, admitted to the reservoir only pure and translucent water, lay down with laughter and slapped their knees with the palms of their hands in sign of surprise and joy.
On the whole, the journey at the beginning progressed easily. They had from Linde considerable supplies of coffee, tea, sugar, bouillon, various preserves, and all kinds of medicine. Stas did not have to save his packs for there were more of them than they could take along; they did not lack also various implements, weapons of all calibers, and sky-rockets, which on encountering negroes might prove very useful. The country was fertile; game, therefore fresh meat, was everywhere in abundance, likewise fruit. Here and there in the low lands they chanced upon marshes, but still covered with water, therefore not infecting the air with their noxious exhalations. On the table-land there were none of the mosquitoes which inoculate the blood with fever. The heat from ten o’clock in the morning became unbearable but the little travelers stopped during the so-called “white hours” in the deep shade of great trees, through the dense foliage of which not a ray of the sun could penetrate. Perfect health also favored Nell, Stas, and the negroes.
XVII
On the fifth day Stas rode with Nell on the King, for they had chanced upon a wide belt of acacias, growing so densely that the horses could move only on a path beaten down by the elephant. The hour was early, the morning radiant and dewy. The children conversed about the journey and the fact that each day brought them nearer to the ocean and to their fathers, for whom both continually longed. This, from the moment of their abduction from Fayûm, was the inexhaustible subject of all their conversations, which always moved them to tears. And they incessantly repeated in a circle that their papas thought that they already were dead and both were grieving and in spite of hope were despatching Arabs to Khartûm for news while they were now far away, not only from Khartûm but from Fashoda, and after five days would be still farther until finally they would reach the ocean, or perhaps before that time, some kind of place from which they could send despatches. The only person in the whole caravan who knew what still awaited them was Stas; — Nell, on the other hand, was most profoundly convinced that there was nothing in the world which “Stes” could not accomplish and she was quite certain that he would conduct her to the coast. So many times, anticipating events, she pictured to herself in her little head what would happen when the first news of them arrived and, chirping like a little bird, related it to Stas. “Our papas are sitting,” she said, “in Port Said and weeping, when in comes a boy with a despatch. What is it? My papa or your papa opens it and looks at the signatures and reads ‘Stas and Nell.’ Then they will rejoice! Then they will start up to prepare to meet us! Then there will be joy in the whole house and our papas will rejoice and everybody will rejoice and they will praise you and they will come and I shall hug tightly papa’s neck, and after that we shall always be — together and—”
And it ended in this: that her chin commenced to quiver, the beautiful eyes changed into two fountains, and in the end she leaned her head on Stas’ arm and wept from sorrow, longing, and joy at the thought of the future meeting. And Stas, allowing his imagination to roam into the future, divined that his father would be proud of him; that he would say to him: “You behaved as became a Pole;” and intense emotion possessed him and in his heart was bred a longing, ardor, and courage as inflexible as steel. “I must,” he said to himself, “rescue Nell. I must live to see that moment.” And at such moments it seemed to him that there were no dangers which he was not able to overcome nor obstacles which he could not surmount.
But it was yet far to the final victory. In the meantime they were making their way through the acacia grove. The long thorns of these trees even made white marks upon the King’s hide. Finally the grove became thinner and across the branches of the scattered trees could be seen in the distance a green jungle. Stas, notwithstanding that the heat was very oppressive, slipped out of the palanquin and sat on the elephant’s neck to see whether there were any herds of antelopes or zebras within view, for he wished to replenish his supply of meat.
In fact, on the right side he espied a herd of ariels, composed of a few head, and among them two ostriches, but when they passed the last clump of trees and the elephant turned to the left, a different sight struck the eyes of the boy. At the distance of about a third of a mile he observed a large manioc field and at the border of the field between ten and twenty black forms apparently engaged at work in the field.
“Negroes!” he exclaimed, turning to Nell.
And his heart began to beat violently. For a while, he hesitated as to whether he should turn back and hide again in the acacias, but it occurred to him that, sooner or later, he would have to meet the natives in populated districts and enter into relations with them, and that the fate of the whole traveling party might depend upon how those relations were formed; so, after brief reflection, he guided the elephant towards the field.
At the same moment Kali approached and, pointing his hand at a clump of trees, said:
“Great master! That is a negro village and there are women working at the manioc. Shall I ride to them?”
“We will ride together,” Stas answered, “and then you shall tell them that we come as friends.”
“I know what to tell them, master,” exclaimed the young negro with great self-assurance.
And turning the horses towards the workers, he placed the palms of his hands around his lips and began to shout:
“Yambo, he yambo sana!”
At this sound, the women engaged in hoeing the manioc field started up suddenly and stood as if thunderstruck, but this lasted only the twinkling of an eye, for afterwards, flinging away in alarm the hoes and baskets, they began to run away, screaming, to the trees amidst which the village was concealed.
The little travelers approached slowly and calmly. In the thicket resounded the yelling of some hundred voices, after which silence fell. It was interrupted finally by the hollow but loud rumble of a drum, which did not cease even for a moment.
It was evidently a signal of the warriors for battle, for three hundred of them suddenly emerged from the thicket. All stood in a long row before the village. Stas stopped the King at the distance of one hundred paces and began to gaze at them. The sun illuminated their well-shaped forms, wide breasts, and powerful arms. They were armed with bows and spears. Around their thighs some had short skirts of heath, and some of monkey skin. Their heads were adorned with ostrich and parrot feathers, or great scalps torn off baboons’ skulls. They appeared warlike and threatening, but they stood motionless and in silence, for their amazement was simply unbounded and subdued the desire for fighting. All eyes were fastened upon the King, on the white palanquin, and the white man sitting on his neck.
Nevertheless, an elephant was
not an unknown animal to them. On the contrary, they continually live in dread of elephants, whole herds of which destroy at night their manioc fields as well as banana and doom-palm plantations. As the spears and arrows do not pierce the elephant’s hide, the poor negroes fight the depredators with the help of fire, with the aid of cries imitating a cockerel’s crow, by digging pits, and constructing traps made of the trunks of trees. But that an elephant should become slave of man and permit one to sit on his neck was something which none of them ever saw before, and it never entered into the mind of any of them that anything like that was possible. So the spectacle which was presented to them passed so far beyond their understanding and imagination that they did not know what to do: whether to fight or to run where their eyes should lead them, though it would result in leaving them to the caprice of fate.
So in uncertainty, alarm, and amazement they only whispered to each other:
“Oh, mother! What creatures are these which have come to us, and what awaits us at their hands?”
But at this Kali, having ridden within a spear’s throw of them, stood up in the stirrups and began to shout:
“People! people! Listen to the voice of Kali, the son of Fumba, the mighty king of the Wahimas on the shores of Bassa-Narok. Oh listen, listen, and if you understand his speech, pay heed to each word that he utters.”
“We understand,” rang the answer of three hundred mouths.
“Let your king stand forth; let him tell his name and let him open his ears and lips that he may hear better.”
“M’Rua! M’Rua!” numerous voices began to cry.
M’Rua stepped in front of the ranks, but not more than three paces. He was a negro, already old, tall and powerfully built, but evidently did not suffer from too much courage, as the calves of his legs quivered so that he had to implant the edge of a spear in the ground and support himself on the shaft in order to stand on his legs.
After his example, the other warriors also drove the spears into the ground in sign that they wanted to hear peaceably the words of the arrival.
And Kali again raised his voice.
“M’Rua, and you, M’Rua’s men, you heard that to you speaks the son of the king of the Wahimas, whose cows cover as thickly the mountains around the Bassa-Narok as the ants cover the body of a slain giraffe. And what says Kali, the son of the king of Wahima? Lo, he announces to you the great and happy tidings that there comes to your village the ‘Good Mzimu.’”
After which he yelled still louder:
“That is so! The Good Mzimu! Ooo!”
In the stillness which ensued could be perceived the great sensation which Kali’s words created. The wave of warriors surged back and forth, for some, impelled by curiosity, advanced a few paces, while others retreated in fear. M’Rua supported himself with both hands on the spear — and for some time the hollow silence continued. Only after a while a murmur passed through the ranks and individual voices began to repeat “Mzimu! Mzimu!” and here and there resounded shouts of “Yancig! Yancig!” expressive at the same time of homage and welcome.
But Kali’s voice again predominated over the murmurs and shouts:
“Look and rejoice! Lo, the ‘Good Mzimu’ sits there in that white hut on the back of the great elephant and the great elephant obeys her as a slave obeys a master and like a child its mother! Oh, neither your fathers nor you have seen anything like that.”
“We have not seen! Yancig! Yancig!”
And the eyes of all warriors were directed at the “hut,” or rather at the palanquin.
And Kali, who during the religious instructions on Mount Linde had learned that faith moves mountains, was deeply convinced that the prayer of the little white “bibi” could procure everything from God; so he spoke thus further and in perfect sincerity:
“Listen! Listen! The ‘Good Mzimu’ is riding on an elephant in the direction in which the sun rises, beyond the mountains out of the waters; there the ‘Good Mzimu’ will tell the Great Spirit to send you clouds, and those clouds during a drought will water with rain your millet, your manioc, your bananas, and the grass in the jungle, in order that you may have plenty to eat and that your cows shall have good fodder and shall give thick and fat milk. Do you want to have plenty of food and milk — oh, men?”
“He! We do, we do!”
“And the ‘Good Mzimu’ will tell the Great Spirit to send to you the wind, which will blow away from your village that sickness which changes the body into a honey-comb. Do you want him to blow it away — oh, men?”
“He! Let him blow it away!”
“And the Great Spirit at the prayer of the ‘Good Mzimu’ will protect you from attacks and slavery and from depredations in your fields and from the lion and from the panther and from the snake and from the locust—”
“Let her do that.”
“So, listen yet and look who sits before the hut between the ears of the terrible elephant. Lo, there sits bwana kubwa, the great and mighty white master, whom the elephant fears!”
“He!”
“Who has thunder-bolts in his hand and kills with it bad men—”
“He!”
“Who kills lions—”
“He!”
“Who lets loose fiery snakes—”
“He!”
“Who crushes rocks—”
“He!”
“Who, however, will do you no harm, if you will honor the ‘Good Mzimu.’”
“Yancig! Yancig!”
“And if you will bring to him an abundance of dry flour from bananas, eggs of chickens, fresh milk, and honey.”
“Yancig! Yancig!”
“So approach and fall on your faces before the ‘Good Mzimu!’”
M’Rua and his warriors started and, not ceasing to “yancig” for a moment, advanced between ten and twenty paces, but they approached cautiously, for a superstitious fear of the “Mzimu” and downright terror before the elephant impeded their steps. The sight of Saba startled them anew as they mistook him for a “wobo,” that is, a big, yellowish-brown leopard, which lives in that region as well as in Southern Abyssinia, and whom the natives fear more than a lion, for it prefers human flesh above all other, and with unheard-of daring attacks even armed men. They quieted, however, seeing that the little obese negro held the terrible “wobo” on a rope. But they were acquiring a still greater idea of the power of the “Good Mzimu,” as well as of the white master, and, staring now at the elephant then at Saba, they whispered to each other: “If they bewitched even the ‘wobo’ who in the world can oppose them?” But the most solemn moment did not come until Stas, turning to Nell, first bowed profoundly and afterwards drew aside the curtain-like walls of the palanquin and exhibited to the eyes of the crowd the “Good Mzimu.” M’Rua and all the warriors fell on their faces so that their bodies formed a long, living deck. Not one of them dared to move, and fear prevailed in all hearts all the more when the King, either at Stas’ order or of his own volition, raised his trunk and began to trumpet strongly; and after his example Saba emitted the deepest bass of which he was capable. Then from all breasts issued, resembling entreating groans, “Aka! Aka! Aka!” and this continued until Kali again addressed them.
“Oh, M’Rua, and you, children of M’Rua! You have paid homage to the ‘Good Mzimu’; therefore rise, gaze, and fill your eyes, for whoever does that gains the blessing of the Great Spirit. Drive away, also, fear from your breasts and bellies and know that wherever the ‘Good Mzimu’ sojourns, human blood cannot be shed.”
At these words, and particularly as a result of the announcement that in the presence of the “Good Mzimu” no one can meet death, M’Rua rose, and after him the other warriors, and began to gaze, bashfully but eagerly at the kind divinity. Indeed, they would have to acknowledge, if Kali again should ask them about it, that neither their fathers nor they ever had beheld anything like it. For their eyes were accustomed to monstrous figures of idols, made of wood and shaggy cocoanuts, and now there appeared before them on an el
ephant’s back a bright divinity, gentle, sweet, and smiling, resembling a white bird, and at the same time a white flower. So, too, their fears passed away, their breasts breathed freely; their thick lips began to grin and their hands were involuntarily stretched out towards the charming phenomenon.
“Oh! Yancig! Yancig! Yancig!”
Nevertheless, Stas, who was watching everything with the closest possible attention, observed that one of the negroes, wearing a pointed cap of rats’ skin, slunk away from the ranks immediately after Kali’s last words and, crawling like a snake in the grass, turned to an isolated hut standing apart, beyond the enclosure, but surrounded likewise by a high stockade bound by climbing plants.
In the meantime the “Good Mzimu,” though greatly embarrassed by the role of a divinity, at Stas’ request stretched out her little hand and began to greet the negroes. The black warriors watched with joy in their eyes each movement of that little hand, firmly believing it possessed powerful “charms,” which would protect them and secure them against a multitude of disasters. Some, striking their breasts and hips, said: “Oh, mother, now it will be well — for us and our cows.” M’Rua, now entirely emboldened, drew near the elephant and prostrated himself once more before the “Good Mzimu” and after that, bowing to Stas, spoke in the following manner:
“Would the great master, who leads the white divinity on the elephant, be pleased to eat a small piece of M’Rua, and would he consent that M’Rua should eat a small piece of him, in order that they should become brothers, among whom there is no falsehood and treachery?”
Kali at once translated these words, but perceiving from Stas’ countenance that he did not have the slightest desire to eat a small piece of M’Rua, turned to the old negro and said:
“Oh, M’Rua! Do you really think that the white master, whom the elephant fears, who holds thunderbolts in his hands, who kills lions, to whom the ‘wobo’ wags its tail, who lets loose fiery snakes and crushes rocks, could form a blood brotherhood with a mere king? Reflect, oh, M’Rua, whether the Great Spirit would not punish you for your audacity, and whether it is not enough of glory for you if you eat a small piece of Kali, the son of Fumba, the ruler of the Wahimas, and if Kali, the son of Fumba, eats a small piece of you?”
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 645