CHAPTER XIX.

DETAINED.

Leave Ngumbi.-Am brought back.-Imprisonment.-The false Ananga.-Great Palaver.-Deputation of Bakělěs.—Set at Liberty.-Dangerous Bar.

ETIA, under pretense of making a detour, had led me so carefully out of the gorilla's way that I abandoned the chase in disgust. I saw that it had been by the merest accident that I had so nearly succeeded, and doubts respecting the integrity of my Caliban began to arise. These were confirmed by Oshupu, who came up to me that evening in great wrath (for I had promised him a handsome present if I killed a gorilla), and said that Quenqueza had given orders to Etia not to introduce me to the mighty anthropoid whose acquaintance I was so desirous of making.

This was, of course, very annoying and disheartening, after all the trouble I had taken. I went to the king, and told him that I should leave his town the next day. I had previously dispatched a canoe to Captain Johnson at Brooklyn, asking him to send me goods, and I received that evening several pieces of cloth, and a gallon or two of rum. I gave the rum to Quenqueza, and spent almost all the cloth in buying billets of ebony, partly to keep up my character of trader, partly to do a good turn to the king and his people, all of whom had been very kind to me.

The next day the king and his people were supinely drunk. The king begged me to wait till the next day. He would then accompany me in person to Brooklyn. Much as I might have felt flattered by this offer, I at first declined it, for I wished to reach the Gaboon in time to sail to Fernando Po by the vessel which went to meet the mails there, and I had not many days to spare; and negro princes do not love rapid traveling. However, the old man was so polite, so humble even, that I graciously yielded, and remained another day.

The next day I had my boat loaded with the ebony which I had bought and with my other effects. I then went to the king, and announced that I was ready. He said that he must go with

me, because he was my dear friend. I requested him to come, then, immediately. He said that he would eat his breakfast, and then he would go. After he had finished breakfast, I reminded him that my canoe was waiting. He said I must please speak to his cousin before I went. I asked him where his cousin was. He replied that he was in the plantation. I said, in broad English, that I would see his cousin farther before I waited for him. This was translated by Mafuk into polite Mpongwe. Then the king promised to come down to the canoe as soon as he had arranged some domestic matters with his steward. I went down before him, and waited half an hour in a boiling fidget. The king did not come. This increased my exasperation. I cried Kabbi in a savage voice. Mafuk and Oshupu began to remonstrate. I would not listen to them. The men grinned, and bent their backs. We shot out into the middle of the stream; a cluster of natives on the bank looked at us with open mouths. When Ngumbi was hidden from sight, I felt like a man who had escaped from prison, and stretched myself luxuriously on my mat.

A large black and white eagle was perched upon a tree above the river, and, contemplating the stream which flowed calmly past, was digesting the heads of fishes (which alone he eats), or trying to devise a second course to his repast. I placed my rifle to my shoulder, and knocked away the branch from under him. He gave a scream, and vanished.

On we went through the water shadowed by the high trees, while the river on the other side shone like molten silver in the I was lying at full length on my back, with my hat over my eyes, building castles in the air. Suddenly my men stopped, and looked at each other with anxious faces. Lazily raising myself, I looked back, and could see, at a great distance, a large black spot, and something rising and falling like a streak of light in the sunshine. The men put their hands to their ears: I listened, and could hear now and then a faint note borne toward us on the wind.

"What's that, Mafuk ?"

"King, sir."

"Oh, he's coming, is he?" said I, laughing. "Well, he can easily catch us now he's so near. Kabbi!”

My stewards gave an uneasy smile, and did not answer me. The men dipped their paddles into the water, and that was all. Every man was listening with bent head, as if trying to detect

the words or the tune. I looked round again. I could see that it was a large canoe, manned by about twenty men, with a kind of thatched house in its stern. The song still continued, and could now be heard plainly. My men flung their paddles down, and began to talk to one another in an excited manner. "What is the matter?" said I, pettishly.

The sweat was running down Mafuk's forehead. He knew what he had to fear, if I did not.

"It is the war song!”

On came the canoe, low and dark, black with men, the paddles tossing the white water in the air. On it came, shot swiftly past us, arched round, and came close alongside. Then arose a storm of angry voices, Quenqueza's raised above the rest.

"What does he say, Mafuk?"

"Says we must go back, sir."

"Does he?" said I, and looked at his canoe. They were more than double our numbers, and I was afraid that my men would not fight very well against natives of the same river as themselves. However, I knew that my rifle (though it could not speak, for it was empty) would nevertheless exercise a tacit influence in the palaver, and I had placed my hands upon it, when, happening to look round (I can not imagine why), I saw something which made me sink gracefully back in my seat, and put my umbrella up. The next moment a canoe filled with well-armed men came on the other side, and two men, springing into the bow, began to turn our canoe. Oshupu, who had remained quiet enough as long as there had been only one canoe to deal with, now that escape became impossible stirred himself up to war, his courage rising with the danger. Knife in hand, he ran forward in the boat; there his friends held his hands, while his foes knocked him down with their paddles edgewise—a sight which afforded me infinite amusement. But when a youth at my right hand seemed anxious to join the scuffle with a drawn sword, I had to place my hand on his shoulder, cry Nyawhi, nyawhi (No, no) in a most impressive manner, and shake my head as if I wanted it to fall into the water. The fact is that your fine dashing fellows are very dangerous company: fights, like breakers, should be avoided as long as tact or skill can contrive; and then pluck, which is a quality the brutes possess in common with ourselves, should be used only as a sword in the hands of system.

When I saw that resistance was useless, I adopted the only

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