Captain Canot; Or, Twenty Years of an African Slaver
heard of even among our distant hills!"
The latter portion of this message somewhat surprised me, for though
my relations with Mongo John were by no means amicable, I did not
imagine that the story of our rupture had spread so far, or been
received with so much sympathy.
Accordingly, when Mami-de-Yong finished his message, I approached him
with thanks for his master's interest in my welfare; and, placing
Ahmah-de-Bellah's Koran--which I had previously wrapped in a white
napkin--in his hands, as a token of the nephew's friendship, I retired
once more to my seat. As soon as the holy book appeared from the
folds, Mami-de-Yong drew a breath of surprise, and striking his
breast, fell on his knees with his head on the ground, where he
remained for several minutes apparently in rapt devotion. As he
rose--his forehead sprinkled with dust, and his eyes sparkling with
tears--he opened the volume, and pointed out to me and his people his
own handwriting, which he translated to signify that "Mami-de-Yong
gave this word of God to Ahmah-de-Bellah, his kinsman." At the reading
of the sentence, all the Fullahs shouted, "Glory to Allah and Mahomet
his Prophet!" Then, coming forward again to the chief, I laid my hand
on the Koran, and swore by the help of God, to accept the invitation
of the great king of Footha-Yallon.
This terminated the ceremonial reception, after which I hastened to
conduct Mami-de-Yong to his quarters, where I presented him with a
sparkling new kettle and an inkstand, letting him understand,
moreover, I was specially anxious to know that all the wants of his
attendants in the caravan were completely satisfied.
Next morning early, I remembered the joy of his nephew
Ahmah-de-Bellah, when I first treated him to _coffee_; and determined
to welcome the chief, as soon as he came forth from his ablutions to
prayers, with a cup distilled from the fragrant berry. I could not
have hit upon a luxury more gratifying to the old gentleman. Thirty
years before had he drank it in Timbuctoo, where it is used, he said,
by the Moses-people (meaning the Hebrews), with milk and honey; and
its delicious aroma brought the well-remembered taste to his lips ere
they touched the sable fluid.
Long before Mami-de-Yong's arrival, his fame as a learned "book-man"
and extensive traveller preceded him, so that when he mentioned his
travel to Timbuctoo, I begged him to give me some account of that
"capital of capitals," as the Africans call it. The royal messenger
promised to comply as soon as he finished the morning lessons of the
caravan's children. His quarters were filled with a dozen or more of
young Fullahs and Mandingoes squatted around a fire, while the prince
sat apart in a corner with inkstand, writing reeds, and a pile of old
manuscripts. Ali-Ninpha, our backsliding Mahometan, stood by,
pretending devoted attention to Mami's precepts and the Prophet's
versus. The sinner was a scrupulous follower in the presence of the
faithful; but when their backs were turned, I know few who relished a
porker more lusciously, or avoided water with more scrupulous care.
Yet why should I scoff at poor Ali? Joseph and I had done our best to
_civilize_ him!
Mami-de-Yong apologized for the completion of his daily task in my
presence, and went on with his instruction, while the pupils wrote
down notes, on wooden slabs, with reeds and a fluid made of powder
dissolved in water.
I am sorry to say that these Ethiopian Mahometans are but poor
scholars. Their entire instruction amounts to little more than the
Koran, and when they happen to write or receive a letter, its
interpretation is a matter over which many an hour is toilsomely
spent. Mami-de-Yong, however, was superior to most of his countrymen;
and, in fact, I must record him in my narrative as the most erudite
Negro I ever encountered.
HIS TRIP TO TIMBUCTOO.
True to his promise, the envoy came to my piazza, as soon as school
was over, and squatting sociably on our mats and sheepskins, with a
plentiful supply of pipes and tobacco, we formed as pleasant a little
party as was assembled that day on the banks of the Rio Pongo.
Ali-Ninpha acted as interpreter, having prepared himself for the
long-winded task by a preliminary dram from my private locker, out of
sight of the noble Mahometan.
Invoking the Lord's name,--as is usual among Mussulmen,--Mami-de-Yong
took a long whiff at his pipe, and, receiving from his servant a small
bag of fine sand, spread it smoothly on the floor, leaving the mass
about a quarter of an inch in thickness. This was his black-board,
designed to serve for the delineation of his journey. On the
westernmost margin of his sand, he dotted a point with his finger for
the starting at Timbo. As he proceeded with his track over Africa
towards the grand capital, he marked the outlines of the principal
territories, and spotted the remarkable towns through which he passed.
By a thick or thin line, he denoted the large rivers and small streams
that intercepted his path, while he heaved up the sand into heaps to
represent a mountain, or smoothed it into perfect levels to imitate
the broad prairies and savannas of the interior. When he came to a
dense forest, his snuff-box was called in requisition, and a pinch or
two judiciously sprinkled, stood for the monarchs of the wood.
Like all Oriental story-tellers, Mami proved rather prolix. His tale
was nearly as long as his travel. He insisted on describing his
reception at every village. At each river he had his story of
difficulty and danger in constructing rafts or building bridges. He
counted the minutes he lost in awaiting the diminution of floods.
Anon, he would catalogue the various fish with which a famous river
teemed; and, when he got fairly into the woods, there was no end of
adventures and hairbreadth escapes from alligators, elephants,
anacondas, vipers, and the fatal tape snake, whose bite is certain
death. In the mountains he encountered wolves, wild asses, hyaenas,
zebras, and eagles.
In fact, the whole morning glided away with a geographical,
zoological, and statistical overture to his tour; so that, when the
hour of prayer and ablution arrived, Mami-de-Yong had not yet reached
Timbuctoo! The double rite of cleanliness and faith required him to
pause in his narrative; and, apologizing for the interruption, he left
a slave to guard the map while he retired to perform his religious
services.
When the noble Fullah got back, I had a nice lunch prepared on a
napkin in the neighborhood of his diagram, so that he could munch his
biscuits and sugar without halting on his path. Before he began,
however, I took the liberty to offer a hint about the precious value
of time in this brief life of ours, whilst I asked a question or two
about the "capital of capitals," to indicate my eagerness to enter
the walls of Timbuctoo. Mami-de-Yong, who was a man of tact as well as
humor, smiled at my insinuation, and apologizing like a Christian for
the natural tediousness of all old travellers, skipped a degree or two
of the wilderness, and at once stuck his buffalo-horn snuff-box into
the eastern margin of the sand, to indicate that he was at his
journey's end.
Mami had visited many of the European colonies and Moorish kingdoms on
the north coast of Africa, so that he enjoyed the advantage of
comparison, and, of course, was not stupefied by the untravelled
ignorance of Africans who consider Timbuctoo a combination of Paris
and paradise. Indeed, he did not presume, like most of the Mandingo
chiefs, to prefer it to Senegal or Sierra Leone. He confessed that the
royal palace was nothing but a vast inclosure of mud walls, built
without taste or symmetry, within whose labyrinthine mesh there were
numerous buildings for the wives, children, and kindred of the
sovereign. If the royal palace of Timbuctoo was of _such_ a
character,--"What," said he, "were the dwellings of nobles and
townsfolk?" The streets were paths;--the stores were shops;--the
suburb of an European colony was _superior_ to their best display! The
markets of Timbuctoo, alone, secured his admiration. Every week they
were thronged with traders, dealers, peddlers and merchants, who
either dwelt in the neighboring kingdoms, or came from afar with
slaves and produce. Moors and Israelites, from the north-east, were
the most eminent and opulent merchants; and among them he counted a
travelling class, crowned with peculiar turbans, whom he called
"Joseph's-people," or, in all likelihood, Armenians.
The prince had no mercy on the government of this influential realm.
Strangers, he said, were watched and taxed. Indeed, he spoke of it
with the peculiar love that we would suppose a Hungarian might bear
towards Austria, or a Milanese to the inquisitorial powers of
Lombardy. In fact, I found that, despite of its architectural
meanness, Timbuctoo was a great central mart for exchange, and that
commercial men as well as the innumerable petty kings, frequented it
not only for the abundant mineral salt in its vicinity, _but because
they could exchange their slaves for foreign merchandise_. I asked
the Fullah why he preferred the markets of Timbuctoo to the
well-stocked stores of regular European settlements on a coast which
was reached with so much more ease than this core of Africa? "Ah!"
said the astute trafficker, "no market is a good one for the genuine
African, in which he cannot openly exchange his _blacks_ for whatever
the original owner or importer can sell without fear! _Slaves, Don
Teodore, are our money!_"
The answer solved in my mind one of the political problems in the
question of African civilization, which I shall probably develope in
the course of this narrative.
CHAPTER XVII.
Having completed the mercantile negotiations of the caravan, and made
my personal arrangements for a protracted absence, I put the noble
Fullah in charge of my establishment, with special charges to my
retainers, clerks, runners, and villagers, to regard the Mami as my
second self. I thought it well, moreover, before I plunged into the
wilderness,--leaving my worldly goods and worldly prospects in charge
of a Mussulman stranger,--to row down to Bangalang for a parting chat
with Mongo John, in which I might sound the veteran as to his feeling
and projects. Ormond was in trouble as soon as I appeared. He was
willing enough that I might perish by treachery on the roadside, yet
he was extremely reluctant that I should penetrate Africa and make
alliances which should give me superiority over the monopolists of the
beach. I saw these things passing through his jealous heart as we
talked together with uncordial civility. At parting I told the Mongo,
for the first time, that I was sure my establishment would not go to
decay or suffer harm in my absence, inasmuch as that powerful Fullah,
the Ali-Mami of Footha-Yallon had deputed a lieutenant to watch Kambia
while I travelled, and that he would occupy my village with his chosen
warriors. The mulatto started with surprise as I finished, and
abruptly left the apartment in silence.
I slept well that night, notwithstanding the Mongo's displeasure. My
confidence in the Fullah was perfect. Stranger as he was, I had an
instinctive reliance on his protection of my home, and his
guardianship of my person through the wilderness.
At day-dawn I was up. It was a fresh and glorious morning. As nature
awoke in the woods of that primitive world, the mists stole off from
the surface of the water; and, as the first rays shot through the
glistening dew of the prodigious vegetation, a thousand birds sent
forth their songs as if to welcome me into their realm of unknown
paths.
After a hearty breakfast my Spanish clerk was furnished with minute
instructions in writing, and, at the last moment, I presented the