All the slaves were subjected to similar humiliations; and all alike, except the very young children, seemed deeply sensible of their degradation. The cruelty exhibited towards them was very vile. Coïmbra, who was half drunk, treated them with the utmost brutality; not that they had any reason to expect any gentler dealings at the hands of the new masters who might purchase them for ivory or any other commodity. Children were torn away from their parents, husbands from their wives, brothers from sisters, and without even the indulgence of a parting word, were separated never to meet again.
The scenes that occur at such markets as this at Kazonndé are too heartrending to be described in detail.
It is one of the peculiar requirements of the slave-trade that the two sexes should have an entirely different destination. In fact, the dealers who purchase men never purchase women. The women, who are required to supply the Mussulman harems, are sent principally to Arab districts to be exchanged for ivory; whilst the men, who are to be put to hard labour, are despatched to the coast, East and West, whence they are exported to the Spanish colonies, or to the markets of Muscat or Madagascar.
To Tom and his friends the prospect of being transported to a slave colony was far better than that of being retained in some Central African province, where they could have no chance of regaining their liberty; and the moment, to them, was accordingly one of great suspense.
Altogether, things turned out for them better than they dared anticipate. They had at least the satisfaction of finding that as yet they were not to be separated. Alvez, of course, had taken good care to conceal the origin of this exceptional lot, and their own ignorance of the language thoroughly prevented them from communicating it; but the anxiety to secure so valuable a property rendered the competition for it very keen; the bidding rose higher and higher, until at length the four men were knocked down to a rich Arab dealer, who purposed in the course of a few days to take them to Lake Tanganyika, and thence to one of the depots of Zanzibar.
This journey, it is true, would be for 1,500 miles across the most unhealthy parts of Central Africa, through districts harassed by internal wars; and it seemed improbable that Tom could survive the hardships he must meet; like poor old Nan, he would succumb to fatigue; but the brave fellows did not suffer themselves to fear the future, they were only too happy to be still together; and the chain that bound them one to another was felt to be easier and lighter to bear.
Their new master knew that it was for his own interest that his purchase should be well taken care of; he looked to make a substantial profit at Zanzibar, and sent them off at once to his own private barracks; consequently they saw no more of what transpired at Kazonndé.
XI
A Bowl of Punch
The afternoon was passing away, and it was now past four o’clock, when the sound of drums, cymbals, and a variety of native instruments was heard at the end of the main thoroughfare. The market was still going on with the same animation as before; half a day’s screeching and fighting seemed neither to have wearied the voices nor broken the limbs of the demoniacal traffickers; there was a considerable number of slaves still to be disposed of, and the dealers were haggling over the remaining lots with an excitement of which a sudden panic on the London Stock Exchange could give a very inadequate conception.
But the discordant concert which suddenly broke upon the ear was the signal for business to be at once suspended. The crowd might cease its uproar, and recover its breath. The King of Kazonndé, Moené Loonga, was about to honour the lakoni with a visit.
Attended by a large retinue of wives, officers, soldiers, and slaves, the monarch was conveyed to the middle of the marketplace in an old palanquin, from which he was obliged to have five or six people to help him to descend. Alvez and the other traders advanced to meet him with the most exaggerated gestures of reverence, all of which he received as his rightful homage.
He was a man of fifty years of age, but might easily have passed for eighty. He looked like an old, decrepit monkey. On his head was a kind of tiara, adorned with leopards’ claws dyed red, and tufts of greyish-white hair; this was the usual crown of the sovereigns of Kazonndé. From his waist hung two skirts of koodoo-hide, stiff as blacksmiths’ aprons, and embroidered with pearls. The tattooings on his breast were so numerous that his pedigree, which they declared, might seem to reach back to time immemorial. His wrists and arms were encased in copper bracelets, thickly encrusted with beads; he wore a pair of top-boots, a present from Alvez some twenty years ago; in his left hand he carried a great stick surmounted by a silver knob; in his right a fly-flapper with a handle studded with pearls; over his head was carried an old umbrella with as many patches as a Harlequin’s coat, whilst from his neck hung Cousin Benedict’s magnifying-glass, and on his nose were the spectacles which had been stolen from Bat’s pocket.
Such was the appearance of
