Kali, who loved him, with tears threw himself upon his breast. Among the warriors some began to strike their heads, others to proclaim Kali king and to “yancig” in his honor. Some fell before the young ruler on their faces. No one raised a voice in opposition, as the right to rule belonged to Kali not only by law, as the oldest son of Fumba, but also as a conqueror.
In the meantime, in the huts of the fetish-men in the boma on the mountain-top, resounded the savage din of the wicked Mzimu, the same as Stas had heard in the first negro village, but this time it was not directed against him but was demanding the death of the prisoners for killing Fumba. The drums began to rumble. The warriors formed in a long host of three men in a row and commenced a war dance around Stas, Kali, and Fumba’s corpse.
“Oa, Oa! Yach, yach!” all voices repeated; all heads nodded right and left in unison, the whites of their eyes glistened, and the sharp points of the spears twinkled in the morning sun.
Kali rose and turning to Stas, said:
“Great master, bring the ‘bibi’ to the boma and let her dwell in Fumba’s hut. Kali is king of the Wahimas and the great master is Kali’s king.”
Stas nodded his head in sign of assent but remained a few hours, for he and the King were entitled to a rest.
He did not leave until towards the evening. During his absence the bodies of the slain Samburus were removed and thrown into a neighboring deep abyss, over which at once a swarm of vultures flocked; the fetish-men made preparations for Fumba’s funeral and Kali assumed authority as the only master of the life and death of all his subjects.
“Do you know what Kali is?” Stas asked the little maid on the return journey from Luela.
Nell gazed at him with surprise.
“He is your boy.”
“Aha! A boy! Kali is now king of all the Wahimas.”
This news delighted Nell immensely. This sudden change, thanks to which the former slave of the cruel Gebhr, and later the humble servant of Stas, became a king, seemed to her something extraordinary and at the same time exceedingly amusing.
Nevertheless, Linde’s remark that negroes were like children who were incapable of remembering what transpired the day before, did not appear just in its application to Kali, for as soon as Stas and Nell stopped at the foot of Mount Boko the young monarch hurried to meet them; he greeted them with the usual marks of humility and joy and repeated the words which he had previously uttered:
“Kali is the king of the Wahimas, and the great master is Kali’s king.”
And he surrounded both with an adoration almost divine and prostrated himself, particularly before Nell, in the presence of all the people, for he knew from experience, acquired during the journey, that the great master cared more for the little “bibi” than for himself.
Leading them solemnly to the capital boma on the summit he surrendered to them Fumba’s hut, which resembled a great shed divided into several rooms. He ordered the Wahima women, who came with them from Luela, and who could not look enough at the “Good Mzimu,” to place a utensil with honey and sour milk in the first room, and when he learned that the “bibi,” tired by the journey, had fallen asleep, he commanded all the inhabitants to observe the deepest silence under the penalty of cutting out their tongues. But he decided to honor them still more solemnly, and with this in view, when Stas, after a brief rest, came out of the shed, he approached him and, prostrating himself, said:
“To-morrow Kali shall order Fumba to be buried and shall cause as many slaves to be cut down for Fumba and for Kali as both have fingers on their hands, but for the ‘bibi’ and for the great master, Kali shall order Faru, the son of Mamba, to be cut to pieces and ‘wengi, wengi’ of other Samburus who were captured by the Wahimas.”
And Stas knitted his brows and began to gaze with his steely eyes into Kali’s eyes; after which he answered:
“I forbid you to do that.”
“Master,” the young negro said in an uncertain voice, “the Wahimas always cut down slaves. The old king — dies cut them down; the young succeeds — cut them down. If Kali did not command them to be cut down, the Wahimas would think that Kali is not king.”
Stas looked more and more sternly:
“What of it?” he asked. “Did you not learn anything on Mount Linde, and are you not a Christian?”
“I am, oh, great master!”
“Listen, then! The Wahimas have black brains, but your brains ought to be white. You, as soon as you became their king, should enlighten them and teach them what you learned from me and from the ‘bibi’ They are like jackals and like hyenas — make men of them. Tell them it is not allowable to cut down captives, for the Great Spirit to whom I and the ‘bibi’ pray avenges the blood of the defenseless. The white people do not murder slaves, and you want to be worse to them than Gebhr was to you — you, a Christian! Shame on you, Kali. Change the ancient and abominable customs of the Wahimas for good ones and God will bless you for this and the ‘bibi’ will not say that Kali is a savage, stupid, bad negro.”
A horrible din in the huts of the fetish-men deafened his words. Stas waved his hand and continued:
“I hear! That is your wicked Mzimu, which wants the blood and heads of the captives. But you, of course, know what that means and it will not frighten you. Well, I say this to you: take a bamboo stick, go to each hut and thrash the hides of the fetish-men until they begin to roar louder than their drums. Cast out the drums into the middle of the boma, in order that all the Wahimas may see and understand how these knaves have deceived them. Tell your foolish Wahimas, at the same time, that which you yourself announced to M’Rua’s people, that wherever the ‘Good Mzimu’ sojourns no human blood can be shed.”
Stas’ words evidently persuaded the young king, as he glanced at him boldly and said:
“Kali will beat, oh, beat the fetish-men; throw out the drums and tell the Wahimas that there where the ‘Good Mzimu’ is it is not allowable to kill anyone. But what shall Kali do with Faru and with the Samburus who killed Fumba?”
Stas, who already had formed his plans for everything and who only waited for this question, answered at once:
“Your father perished and his father perished, therefore it is a head for a head. You shall conclude a blood alliance with Faru, after which the Wahimas and Samburus shall dwell in harmony; they shall peacefully cultivate manioc, and hunt. You shall tell Faru of the Great Spirit, who is the Father of all white and black people, and Faru shall love you like a brother.”
“Kali now has a white brain,” answered the young negro.
And with this the conversation ended. A while later again resounded wild roars; this time they were not the roars of the wicked Mzimu but only of both fetish-men, whom Kali cudgelled with all his might and main. The warriors, who below continually surrounded the King in a compact circle, came running up as fast as their legs could carry them to see what was happening, and soon became convinced with their own eyes and from the confessions of the fetish-men that the bad Mzimu before which heretofore they trembled was only a hollowed-out trunk with monkey skin stretched over it.
And young Faru, when he was informed that in honor of the “Good Mzimu” and the great master his head would not be dashed to pieces, but that Kali was to eat a piece of him and he a piece of Kali, could hardly believe his ears, and on learning to whom he was indebted for his life, lay on his face on the ground before the entrance to Fumba’s hut, and remained there until Nell came out and ordered him to rise. Then he embraced with his black hands her little foot and placed it on his head in sign that through his entire life he desired to remain her slave.
The Wahimas were greatly astonished at the commands of the young king, but the presence of the unknown guests whom they regarded as the most powerful sorcerers in the world had the effect of disarming all opposition. The older people, however, were displeased with the new customs, and both fetish-men, understanding that their prosperous days were forever over, swore in their souls a terrible revenge against the k
ing and the new arrivals.
In the meantime they buried Fumba with great solemnity at the foot of the rock below the boma. Kali placed above his grave a cross made of bamboo, while the negroes left a few utensils with pombe and smoked meat “in order that he should not annoy and haunt them during the night-time.”
Mamba’s body, after the conclusion of the blood brotherhood between Kali and Faru, was surrendered to the Samburus.
XXI
“Nell, can you enumerate our journeys from Fayûm?” Stas asked.
“I can.”
Saying this the little maid raised her eyebrows and began to count on her little fingers.
“At once. From Fayûm to Khartûm — that is one; from Khartûm to Fashoda — that is the second; from Fashoda to that ravine in which we found the King — that is the third; and from Mount Linde to the lake — that is the fourth.”
“Yes. There probably is not another fly in the world which has flown over such a piece of Africa.”
“That fly would look queer without you.”
Stas began to laugh.
“A fly on an elephant! A fly on an elephant!”
“But not a tsetse! Honestly, Stas — not a tsetse.”
“No,” he answered, “a very agreeable fly.”
Nell, pleased with the praise, propped her little nose on his arm; after which she asked:
“When shall we start on our fifth journey?”
“As soon as you have rested thoroughly, and I can instruct those men whom Kali has promised to me how to shoot a little.”
“And shall we ride long?”
“Long, Nell — long! Who knows whether it will not be the longest journey?”
“And you, as usual, will be equal to it.”
“I must be.”
Somehow Stas had managed to shift for himself as best he could, but this fifth journey required great preparations. They were to venture into unknown regions in which they were threatened with manifold dangers, so the boy desired to be protected against them better than he previously had been. With this in view he gave instructions in shooting from Remington rifles to forty young Wahimas who were to form the principal armed force and in a measure Nell’s body-guard. More rifle-men he could not have, as the King carried only twenty-five rifles and the horses bore only fifteen. The rest of the army was to consist of one hundred Wahimas and a hundred Samburus, armed with spears and bows, whom Faru promised to furnish, and whose presence removed many difficulties of travel through the wide and wild country inhabited by the Samburu tribe. Stas, not without a certain pride, thought that having escaped during his journey from Fashoda with only Nell and the two negroes, without any means, he might come to the ocean coast at the head of two hundred armed men with an elephant and horses. He pictured to himself what would be said by the English people who prized resourcefulness highly, but above all he thought of what his father and Mr. Rawlinson would say. The thought of this sweetened all his toils.
Nevertheless, he was not at all at ease as to his own and Nell’s fate, for he surely would pass through the possessions of the Wahimas and the Samburus without any difficulties, but after that, what? Upon what tribes would he yet chance, into what regions would he enter, and how much travel still remained? Linde’s directions were too vague. Stas was greatly worried because he actually did not know where he was, as that part of Africa appeared on the maps from which he studied geography entirely like a blank page. He also had no idea what this Lake Bassa-Narok was and how great it was. He was on its southern border, at which the width of the overflow might amount to ten miles. But neither the Wahimas nor the Samburus could tell him how far the lake extended to the north. Kali, who knew the Kiswahili language passably well, answered all questions with, “Bali! bali!” which meant “far! far!” but this was all that Stas could elicit from him.
As the mountains on the north, shutting off the view, appeared quite near, he assumed that it was a small, brackish lake, like many others in Africa. A few years later it appeared how great an error he committed* [* It was the great lake which was discovered in 1888 by the celebrated traveler Teleki and which he named Lake Rudolf.]. For the time being, however, he was not concerned so much about ascertaining the exact dimensions of Bassa-Narok as whether some river did not flow out of it, which afterwards coursed to the ocean. The Samburus — subjects of Faru — claimed that east of their country lay a waterless desert which no one had yet traversed. Stas, who knew negroes from the narratives of travelers, from Linde’s adventures, and partly from his own experience, was aware that when the dangers and the hardships began, many of his men would desert to return home, and perhaps not one would remain. In such case he would find himself in the wilds and desert with only Nell, Mea, and little Nasibu. Above all he understood that a lack of water would disperse the caravan at once, and for that reason he inquired so eagerly about the river. Going along its course, they really might avoid those horrors to which travelers in waterless regions are exposed.
But the Samburus could not tell him anything definite; he himself could not make any longer explorations of the eastern shore of the lake, for other employment kept him at Boko. He reckoned that in all probability none of the kites that he flew from Mount Linde and from the negro villages had crossed the chain of mountains surrounding Bassa-Narok. For this reason it was necessary to make and fly new ones, for these the wind could now carry across the flat desert far away — perhaps as far as the ocean. Now this work he had to supervise personally. For though Nell could glue them perfectly, and Kali had learned how to fly them, neither of them were able to inscribe on them all that it was necessary to write. Stas regarded this as a matter of great importance which it was not allowable to neglect.
So this labor occupied so much of his time that the caravan was not ready for the journey until three weeks had elapsed. But on the eve of the day on which they were to start at daybreak the young King of the Wahimas appeared before Stas and, bowing profoundly, said:
“Kali goes with the master and the ‘bibi’ as far as the water on which great pirogues of the white people float.”
Stas was touched by this proof of attachment; nevertheless, he thought that he had no right to take the boy with him upon such an immense journey, a return from which might be uncertain.
“Why do you want to go with us?” he asked.
“Kali loves the great master and the ‘bibi’.”
Stas placed the palm of his hand on Kali’s woolly head.
“I know, Kali, that you are an honest and good boy. But what will become of your kingdom and who will govern the Wahimas in your place?”
“M’Tana, brother of Kali’s mother.”
Stas knew that strife for rulership raged among the negroes and power lured them the same as the white people; so he pondered for a while and said:
“No, Kali. I cannot take you with me. You must remain with the Wahimas in order to make good people of them.”
“Kali will return to them.”
“M’Tana has many sons — Well, what will happen if he himself should desire to become king and leave the kingdom to his sons, and should induce the Wahimas to expel you?”
“M’tana is good. He would not do that.”
“But if he should do it?”
“Then Kali will again go to the great water — to the great master and the ‘bibi.’”
“We shall not be there then.”
“Then Kali will sit beside the water and weep from grief.”
Speaking thus he crossed his hands above his head; after a while he whispered:
“Kali loves the great master and the ‘bibi’ very much — very much!”
And two big tears glistened in his eyes.
Stas hesitated how to act. He was sorry for Kali, nevertheless, he did not assent to his entreaty. He understood — not to speak of the dangers of return — that if M’Tana or the fetish-men stirred up the negroes, then the boy was threatened not only with expulsion from the country but with death.
&nb
sp; “It is better for you to remain,” he said, “better without question.”
But while he was saying this, Nell entered. Through the thin mat which separated the rooms she had heard perfectly the whole conversation, and now seeing tears in Kali’s eyes she began to wipe his eyelids with her little fingers, and afterward turned to Stas:
“Kali is going with us,” she said with great firmness.
“Oho!” answered Stas, somewhat ruffled, “that does not depend upon you.”
“Kali is going with us,” she repeated.
“No, he will not go.”
Suddenly she stamped her little foot.
“I want it.”
And she burst into a genuine flood of tears.
Stas stared at her with the greatest amazement, as though he did not understand what had happened to the little maid who was always so good and gentle, but seeing that she stuck both of her little fists in her eyes and, like a little bird, caught the air with her opened mouth, he began to exclaim with great haste:
“Kali is going with us! He is going! He is going! Why are you crying? How unbearable you are! He is going! My, how pale you are! He is going! Do you hear?”
And thus it happened. Stas was ashamed until the evening of his weakness for the “Good Mzimu,” and the “Good Mzimu” having carried her point, was as quiet, gentle, and obedient as ever.
XXII
The caravan started at daybreak on the following day. The young negro was happy, the little female despot was now gentle and obedient, and Stas was full of energy and hope. They were accompanied by one hundred Samburus and one hundred Wahimas — forty of the latter were armed with Remingtons from which they could shoot passably well. The white commander who drilled them during three weeks knew, indeed, that in a given case they would create more noise than harm, but thought that in meeting savages noise plays no less a part than bullets, and he was pleased with his guards. They took with them a great supply of manioc, cakes baked of big, fat white ants and ground into flour, as well as a great quantity of smoked meats. Between ten and twenty women went with the caravan. They carried various good things for Nell and water-bags made of antelope skin. Stas, from the King’s back, kept order, issued commands — perhaps not so much because they were necessary, but because he was intoxicated by the role of a commander — and with pride viewed his little army.
Complete Works of Henryk Sienkiewicz Page 649