“Ah, good-morning, sar,” exclaimed Lobo to me, as he entered. “Glad to see you back in the river, sar! I hope dat de capitan and officers of de beautiful Barracouta are all well? Ah, gentlemen, dat was a ver’ fine bit of vork, dat attack of yours upon Chango Creek; ver’ fine and ver’ successful. I ’ave alvays been proud of my share in dat exploit. But, gentlemen, you mus’ please never so much as vhisper dat I, Joaquin Miguel Lobo, had anything to do vid it. My vord, if you did, de rascal slavers vould cut my t’roat for me, and de man-o’-war gentlemen vould lose a fait’ful ally.”
“No doubt, Señor Lobo,” agreed I genially. “But, never fear, you are perfectly safe from betrayal to the slavers, so far as we are concerned; you shall find us as faithful to you as you have been to us. But sit down, man, and let me offer you a glass of wine.”
With many bows and wreathed smiles, and deprecating elevations of the shoulders, Lobo took the seat to which I pointed him, and I touched a bell.
“Steward, put the wine and some glasses on the table, will you; and also a box of cigars that you will find on the shelf in my cabin.”
The wine and cigars were brought; we helped ourselves; and I began—
“I am very much obliged to you for coming aboard, Señor Lobo, for you are the very man that I most desired to see. I require some assistance of a rather peculiar kind, and I believe that you, above all others, are the one who can best help me to it.”
Lobo bowed and smiled, sipped his wine, and assured us that he was in all things our very obedient, humble servant, and that nothing pleased him so much as to be of assistance to the man-o’-war gentlemen, who honoured the river by paying it an occasional visit. At the same time—he pointed out—his friendly relations with those same man-o’-war gentlemen, and the services that he had been so glad to render them from time to time were, if not well known, at least very strongly suspected by the slavers and slave-dealing fraternity generally who used the Congo for their nefarious purposes; and in incurring this suspicion he also incurred a very serious risk, both to property and life, for which he considered that he was justly entitled to be remunerated on a generous scale.
“Most assuredly,” I agreed. “And I may tell you at once, Señor Lobo, that I am prepared to reward you very munificently for the efficient and faithful performance of the service that I require of you; I am prepared, in fact, to offer you no less a reward than your life. Ah, you turn pale, I see; and well you may when I inform you that your true character is by this time known to probably every British commander on the coast; you are known as a bare-faced traitor to the cause that you have pretended so zealously to serve, and I don’t mind mentioning to you, in confidence, that, if this ship had happened to be the Barracouta instead of the Felicidad you would now in all probability have been dangling from one of that ship’s yard-arms, as a wholesome warning and example to all betrayers— Nay, keep your seat, man; there is a sentry outside the door, and you are a prisoner beyond all possibility of escape. But you have no cause for fear on that account, provided that you can prevail upon yourself to act honestly for once. I require a certain service from you, and I promise you that if you render that service faithfully I will set you free at the termination of the adventure, with full liberty to seek safety by flight elsewhere. But until the adventure of which I speak is brought to a favourable conclusion, you are my prisoner; and I give you my word of honour that upon the first attempt to escape which you may be ill-advised enough to make, I will put you in irons and chain you to the deck. If, therefore, you are wise, you will submit to your present predicament with a good grace, rather than tempt a worse one. And now, tell me everything you know with regard to the fate of the crews of the Sapphire’s boats.”
“The Sapphire’s boats?” ejaculated the now thoroughly terrified wretch. “I swear to Gad, sar, dat I had not’ing to do vid dat! I know not’ing about dem; not’ing whatever! But I can tell you de name of de man who had; ay, and I can put him into your power, if you like; he is a villain, and it would be only doing a good action to betray him to justice. I vill do it, too, if you vill release me at vonce; I vill tell you all about him, vhere he is to be found vhen he visits de river, de name of his cheep, and—and—all dat is necessairey for you to know.”
“Yes; no doubt,” I answered. “But you will have to purchase your release in some other way, señor; unfortunately for you we know all about Don Fernando de Mendouca, captain of the brigantine Francesca and have every confidence in our ability to get hold of him without your assistance. And I may tell you that, up to the present, no charge has been made against you in connection with the disappearance of the Sapphire’s boats; you have therefore nothing to fear from us just now on that score. Now, will you tell us what you know about those unfortunate missing men?”
“Yes; yes, I vill, gentlemen; I vill tell you all dat I know; but it is not much,” answered Lobo, with evident relief. “I only know dat de scoundrel Mendouca managed to trap de two boats in some vay—how, I know not—and dat he gave dem de choice of being massacred, dere and den, or of surrendering and having dheir lives spared. And vhen dhey had surrendered he exchanged dhem to Matadi for slaves—t’ree slaves for every white man—so dat Matadi might have plenty of victims—white victims dhey consider very good—for de annual—de annual—what you call it, eh? festa.”
“Festival, I suppose you mean,” said I, with an involuntary shudder. “And, pray, Señor Lobo, do you happen to know the date of this festival?”
“No, I cannot say dat I do; but I t’ink about one week from now,” was the answer.
“Then, thank God, we are still in time!” I ejaculated. “Now, Señor Lobo, I presume you are acquainted with this chief, Matadi, are you not? You have probably had dealings with him, eh? Do not be afraid to give a truthful answer, because by so doing you cannot betray anything about yourself that we do not know already. We are fully aware, for instance, that you are a slave-dealer—among other things—and I have very little doubt that, if I chose to land a party, we should find a choice lot of negroes in that barracoon of yours in the bush, yonder—you look surprised, but, you see, I know all about you; so your best plan will be to answer my questions truthfully and unreservedly. Now, as to this Matadi, who is he, and what is he?”
“Sair,” said Lobo, in great perturbation, “I see dat you know all about me, so I will be perfectly open and frank wid you. I do know Matadi. He is a very powerful chief, de head of a tribe numbering quite t’ree t’ousand warriors; and his chief town is far up de river—four, five days’ journey in a canoe. It lies on de sout’ bank of de river ’bout eight miles below de first—what you call?—where de water runs very furious over de rocks, boiling like—like de water in a pot.”
“Ah, rapids, you mean, I suppose?” suggested I.
“Yes, yes; rapids; dat is de word,” agreed Lobo. “His town is near de first rapids; and he is very powerful, very dangerous, very fierce. What do you want wid him, señor?”
“I want those white men that he holds in captivity; and I mean to have them, by fair means or foul!” said I. “I will buy them of him, if he is willing to part with them in that way; and if not, I intend to take them from him by force, for have them I must and will And I require your assistance in this matter, señor, as an interpreter, through whom I can treat with the fellow and carry on the necessary negotiations; and if those negotiations are successful, you will be released on our return here, and allowed thirty days to complete your arrangements for removal elsewhere. But if we fail you will be retained as a prisoner, and taken to Sierra Leone, to be dealt with as your past treacheries deserve. Now, do you quite understand the position?”
“Yes, señor, I understand,” answered Lobo, in great distress. “But, oh, gentlemen, I beg, I pray you, do not take me away from my business; it will all go wrong widout me, and I shall lose hundreds, t’ousands of dollars, all my property will be gone before I can get back! I shall be ruin’!”
“I am sorry to hear that,” I remarked; “but
even supposing that matters go as badly with you as you seem to fear, that will be better than hanging, will it not? And, you see, I must have somebody with me, as interpreter, whose interest it will be that I shall be successful in my mission; and I know of no one whose interests can be made more completely identical with my own than yourself, señor. Therefore I shall take you with me, regardless of consequences. But if you have any assistants ashore to whom you would like to send a very brief message to the effect that you are taking a little business-trip up the river with me for a few days, and that they must do the best they can for you during your absence, I have no objection to your sending it. Otherwise, I will dismiss your boat; for we must not miss this fine sea-breeze, which ought to take us a good many miles up-stream before it dies away.”
“Well, gentlemen, if you are quite determined, I must submit,” answered Lobo, with a very disconsolate air. “But I protest against being thus carried off against my will; I protest against it as a—an—a—what do you call him?—yes, an outrage—an outrage, gentlemen; and the Portuguese Government will inquire into the matter.”
“All right,” said I cheerfully; “there can be no objection to that, so far as we are concerned. And now that we have arranged this little matter, shall I dismiss your boat?”
“No, no; not yet, not yet,” hastily answered Lobo. “Give me one littl’ piece of paper, if you please, and I will write a few words to Diego, my manager, telling him what to do in my absence.”
“No,” said I determinedly, “I can permit no written messages; a verbal one, if you like, but nothing more.”
“Ver’ well,” answered Lobo resignedly. “Then I will go up and speak to my boatmen.”
“No need for that,” said I. “Tell us which of your men you wish to see, and I will send for him to come here.”
Poor Lobo made a gesture of impatience, but saw that I had quite determined to afford him no shadow of an opportunity to make any secret communication whatever; so he submitted to the inevitable, and sent for one of his men, to whom he delivered such a message as I suggested, adding a request that a small supply of clothing might be sent off to him at once. This ended the matter, so far as the obtaining of an efficient interpreter was concerned; the clothes were brought off; and shortly after noon we weighed and, with a brisk breeze, stood out of the creek on our way up the river.
For the first twelve miles or so our course was the same as that which we had followed in our memorable expedition to attack Chango Creek; the river being, up to that point, about three miles wide, with a fine deep channel averaging perhaps a quarter of that width up as far as abreast the southern extremity of Monpanga island, where this deep channel terminates, and the average depth of the entire stream dwindles to about six fathoms for the next fourteen miles, the channel at the same time narrowing down to a width varying from about two miles to less than half-a-mile in some parts, notably at the spot where it begins to thread its devious way among the islands that cumber the stream for a length of fully thirty miles, at a distance of about twenty-eight miles from Shark Point.
By carrying a press of sail, and hugging the northern bank, keeping as close to the shore as our little draught of water would permit, thus to a great extent cheating the current, we contrived to get as far as the spot where the above-mentioned chain of islands commences; and there, the wind failing us toward sunset, we came to an anchor close to the southern shore, on a sand-bank, in three fathoms, under the lee of a large island that sheltered us from the rush of the main current; and there we remained all night, a strict anchor-watch of course being kept not only to see that the schooner did not drive from her berth, but also to guard against possible attack on the part of the natives. In this spot, to my inexpressible chagrin, we were compelled to spend the following two days, the wind blowing down the river, when it blew at all, a little variety being infused into the weather by the outburst of a most terrific thunderstorm which brought with it a perfect hurricane of wind and a deluge of rain; after which we again got a fair wind and were able to pursue our way for a time, getting ashore occasionally upon unsuspected sand-banks, but always contriving to heave off again, undamaged, thanks to the fact that we were proceeding up-stream against the current instead of down-stream with it. And—not to dwell unduly upon incidents that were exciting enough to us, although the recital of them would prove of but little interest to the reader—in this way we contrived to creep up the river the hundred and twelve miles or so that were necessary to bring us to Matadi’s town—having passed, and with some difficulty avoided, two whirlpools on the way, reaching our destination about two bells in the afternoon watch on the fifth day after leaving Banana Creek.
* * *
Chapter Twenty.
Success. The Fate of the Pirate Slaver.
Matadi’s “town” was situate, as Lobo had informed us, on the south bank of the stream, on the sloping side of a hill that rose rather steeply from the water’s edge; the scenery of this part of the river being totally different from that of the mouth; the change occurring gradually, but becoming quite decided about the point where the chain of islands is left behind on the traveller’s upward way. For whereas on the lower reaches of the Congo—that is to say, for the first forty miles or so from its mouth—the banks of the river are low and flat, and to a great extent mangrove-lined, beyond this point their tendency is to become higher and steeper, in some places, indeed, quite precipitous, until where we now were the ground sloped up from the river margin to a height of fully four hundred feet, for the most part densely covered with bush interspersed here and there with masses of noble forest trees.
Matadi’s town was situate, as I have said, upon the sloping hillside that constituted the south bank of the river, and consisted of some four or five hundred buildings arranged with tolerable regularity on either side of two broad streets or roads that crossed each other at right angles, their point of intersection being a spacious square, in the centre of which stood a circular structure with a high-peaked, pointed roof of thatch, that Lobo informed me was the fetish-house. I was greatly surprised at the neatness and skill displayed in the construction of the buildings in this important town; for while they were insignificant in size, as compared with the dwellings of a civilised race, being about the size of a small two-roomed cottage, such as may be found in almost any rural district in England, they were very considerably larger and more carefully and substantially-built than the huts that we had noticed in King Plenty’s town, when we made our disastrous attack upon Mendouca and his consorts. There was even a certain attempt at ornamentation discernible in the larger structures, many of which had what I believe is called in England a barge-board, elaborately carved, under the projecting eaves of the roof that formed the verandah, the wooden posts that supported those same projecting eaves being also boldly sculptured. These particulars I noted through my telescope on rounding the bend of the river just beyond the town; and I could not help feeling that a community of savages intellectual enough to find pleasure in the adornment of their houses would be likely to prove very difficult to deal with unless I could contrive to make their inclination coincide with my own wishes.
Our appearance—the Felicidad being probably the first ship that had ever penetrated so far up the river—created a profound sensation in the town, the inhabitants rushing in and out of their dwellings and about the streets for all the world like an alarmed colony of ants, and finally congregating along the margin of the river to the extent of fully one thousand, most of them being men, every one of whom, so far as I could make out, was armed; the weapons being spears, bows and arrows, and clubs with heavy knobs on the end. They seemed to be a fine, powerful race, evidently accustomed to warfare, if one might judge by the readiness with which, at the command of an immensely stout and powerful man—whom Lobo declared to be none other than Matadi himself—they formed themselves up into compact and orderly squadrons, and I thought, ruefully, that if it became necessary to resort to forcible measures for the release of ou
r countrymen, we were likely to have a pretty bad time.
To attempt to open communications with a thousand armed savages, whose evident purpose in mustering on the river bank immediately in front of their town was to resolutely oppose any attempt at landing on our part, was a rather delicate operation; still, it had to be done, and it was worse than useless to exhibit any sign of trepidation or hesitation. I therefore ordered the gig to be lowered, and with four men, fully armed, at the oars, and Lobo and myself in the stern-sheets, pushed off for the shore. This bold action on our part created a profound sensation upon the savages massed upon the shore, the boat being no sooner under way than they raised their spears above their heads, shook them furiously until the blades clashed upon each other with the sound of a falling torrent of water, and emitted a blood-curdling yell that almost drove poor Lobo out of his senses. We had, however—at Lobo’s suggestion—provided ourselves with palm branches, cut on the night before at our previous anchorage, and now, seizing one of these, the Portuguese scrambled forward into the eyes of the boat and stood there, waving the branch violently and pointing it toward the savages. This demonstration had the effect of quelling the tumult, the blacks subsiding into quietude almost instantly, at the command of Matadi; but it was evident that they had no intention of permitting us to land, for at a second command from the chief they advanced, as steadily as a band of civilised troops, across the short intervening space of greensward between themselves and the water’s edge, at which they halted, forming up three deep in a long, compact line along the river margin.
We continued to pull shoreward until we were within easy speaking distance; when the boat’s bows were turned up-stream, and while the men continued to paddle gently ahead, using just sufficient strength to enable the boat to stem the current and maintain her position abreast the centre of the line of savages, Lobo opened the palaver by informing Matadi that we were there by command of the Great White Queen to procure the release of the white men held by him as prisoners, and that we were fully prepared to pay a handsome ransom for them; it was only for Matadi to name his price, and it should be cheerfully paid.
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