reveals disco’s opinions about savages, and the savages’ opinions of disco, and other weighty matters.

as two or three of harold’s people were not very well just at that time, he resolved to remain at kambira’s village for a few days to give them rest, and afterwards to push on to the country of his friend chimbolo.

this arrangement he came to the more readily that he was short of provisions, and kambira told him that a particular part of the country near the shores of a lake not far distant abounded with game of all sorts.

to disco lillihammer he explained his plans next day, while that worthy, seated under the shade of a banyan-tree, was busily engaged with what he styled his “mornin’ dooties”—namely, the filling and smoking of his cutty-pipe.

“you see, disco,” he said, “it won’t do to knock up the men with continuous travel, therefore i shall give them a spell of rest here. kambira tells me that there is plenty of game, large and small, to be had not far off, so that we shall be able to replenish our stock of meat and perchance give the niggers a feast such as they have not been accustomed to of late, for it is not too much to expect that our rifles will do more execution, at all events among lions and elephants, than native spears. besides, i wish to see something of the people, who, being what we may call pure out-and-out savages—”

“savages!” interrupted disco, removing his pipe, and pointing with the stem of it to the village on an eminence at the outskirts of which they were seated; “d’ee call them folk savages?”

harold looked at the scene before him, and paused for a few moments; and well he might, for not fifty yards off the blacksmith was plying his work energetically, while a lad sat literally between a pair of native bellows, one of which he blew with his left hand, the other with his right and, beyond these, groups of men and women wrought at their primitive looms or tilled their vegetable gardens and patches of land.

“savages!” repeated disco, still pointing to the village with the stem of his pipe, and gazing earnestly at his companion, “humph!”

it is probable that disco might have said more, but he was an accurate judge of the precise moment when a pipe is about to go out, and delay will prove fatal. he therefore applied himself diligently to suck and cherish the dying spark. having revived its powers to such an extent that clouds enveloped his visage, and his nose, being red, loomed luridly through them, he removed the pipe, and again said, “humph! they ain’t a bit more savages, sir, than you or me is.”

“perhaps not,” replied harold. “to say truth, it would be difficult to point out any peculiarity that justifies the name, except the fact that they wear very little clothing, and neither go to school nor church.”

“they wears no clothin’,” rejoined disco, “’cause they don’t need for to do so; an’ they don’t go to church or school, ’cause they hain’t got none to go to—that same bein’ not the fault o’ the niggers, but o’ them as knows better.”

“there’s truth in what you say, disco,” returned harold, with a smile, “but come, you must admit that there is something savage in the custom they have of wearing these hideous lip-rings.”

the custom to which he referred is one which prevails among several of the tribes of africa, and is indeed so utterly hideous and outrageous that we should be justified in refusing to believe it, were we not assured of the fact by dr livingstone and other missionaries and travellers of unquestionable integrity. the ring is worn in the upper lip, not hanging from it but fitted into a hole in it in such a manner as to thrust the lip straight and far out from the face. as the ring is about the size of an ordinary napkin-ring, it may be easily believed, that time is required for the formation of the deformity. at an early age the middle of the upper lip of a girl is pierced close to the nose, and a small pin introduced to prevent the hole closing up. after it is healed the pin is taken out and a larger one forced into its place, and so for weeks, months, and years the process of increasing the size of the lip goes on, until a ring of two inches in diameter can be introduced. nearly all the women in these parts use this ring, or, as it is called, pelele. some make them of bamboo, others of ivory or tin. when a wearer of the pelele smiles, the action of the cheek muscles draws the lip tight which has the effect of raising the ring towards the eyebrows, so that the nose is seen in the middle of it, and the teeth are exposed, a revelation which shows that the latter have been chipped to sharp points so as to resemble the teeth of a cat or crocodile.

“no doubt,” said disco, in reply to harold’s remark, “the lip-rings are uncommon ugly, but the principle o’ the thing, sir, that’s w’ere it is, the principle ain’t no wuss than ear-rings. the savages, as we calls ’em, bores holes in their lips an’ sticks rings into ’em. the civilised folk, as we calls ourselves, bores holes in their ears an’ sticks rings into ’em. w’ere’s the difference? that’s wot i want to know.”

“there’s not much difference in principle,” said harold, laughing, “but there is a great difference in appearance. ear-rings hang gracefully; lip-rings stick out horribly.”

“h’m! it appears to me that that’s a matter o’ taste, now. howsoever, i do admit that lip-rings is wuss than ear-rings; moreover it must make kissin’ somewhat difficult, not to say onpleasant, but, as i said before, so i says again, it’s all in the principle w’ere it lies. w’y, look here, sir,—savages, as we call ’em, wear brass rings round their necks, our women wear gold and brass chains. the savages wear anklets, we wear bracelets. they have no end o’ rings on their toes, we have ’em on our fingers. some savages shave their heads, some of us shaves our faces. their women are raither given to clothin’ which is too short and too narrer, ours come out in toggery far too wide, and so long sometimes, that a feller daren’t come within a fathom of ’em astarn without runnin’ the risk o’ trampin’ on, an’ carrying away some o’ the canvas. the savage women frizzes out their hair into most fantastical shapes, till the very monkeys has to hold their sides sittin’ in the trees larfin’ at ’em—and wot do we do in regard to that? w’y, some of our women puts on a mixture o’ hairy pads, an’ combs, an’ pins, an’ ribbons, an’ flowers, in a bundle about twice the size o’ their heads, all jumbled together in such a way as to defy description; an’ if the monkeys was to see them, they’d go off into such fits that they’d bu’st altogether an’ the race would become extinct in afriky. no, sir; it’s my opinion that there ain’t no such thing as savages—or, if you choose to put it the tother way, we’re all savages together.”

disco uttered the last part of his speech with intense energy, winding it up with the usual slap on the thigh, delivered with unusual fervour, and then, becoming aware that the vital spark of the cutty had all but fled, he applied himself to its resuscitation, in which occupation he found relief to his feelings, and himself formed a brilliant illustration of his remarks on savage customs.

harold admitted that there was much truth in what he said, but rather inclined to the opinion that of the two sets of savages the uncivilised were, if anything, the wildest. disco however, contrary to his usual habits, had nailed his colours to the mast on that point and could not haul them down. meanwhile harold’s opinion was to some extent justified by the appearance of a young man, who, issuing from the jungle close at hand, advanced towards them.

most of the men at the village displayed a good deal of pride, if not taste, in the arrangement of their hair. some wore it long and twisted into a coil which hung down their backs; others trained and stiffened it in such a way that it took the form of buffalo horns, while some allowed it to hang over the shoulders in large masses, and many shaved it either entirely, or partially in definite patterns. but the young dandy who now approached outdid all others, for he had twisted his hair into innumerable little tails, which, being stiffened by fillets of the inner bark of a tree, stuck straight out and radiated from the head in all directions. his costume otherwise was simple enough, consisting merely of a small kilt of white calico. he was accompanied by antonio.

“we’ve be come from kambira,” said the interpreter, “to tell you for come to feast.”

“all right,” said disco, rising; “always ready for wittles if you only gives us an hour or two between times.—i say, tony,” (he had by that time reduced the interpreter’s name to this extent), “ask this feller what he means by makin’ sitch a guy of hisself.”

“hims say it look well,” said antonio, with a broad grin.

“looks well—eh? and ask him why the women wear that abominable pelele.”

when this question was put to the black dandy, he looked at disco evidently in surprise at his stupidity. “because it is the fashion,” he said.

“they wear it for beauty, to be sure! men have beards and whiskers; women have none, and what kind of creature would woman be without whiskers, and without a pelele? she would have a mouth like a man, and no beard!”

the bare idea of such a state of things tickled the dandy so much that he went into roars of laughter, insomuch that all the radiating tails of his head quivered again. the effect of laughter and tails together was irresistible. harold, disco, and antonio laughed in sympathy, till the tears ran down their cheeks, and then returned to the village where kambira and his chief men awaited them.

while enjoying the feast prepared for them, harold communicated his intentions and desires to the chief, who was delighted at the prospect of having such powerful allies on a hunting expedition.

the playful obo meanwhile was clambering over his father’s person like a black monkey. he appeared to be particularly fond of his father, and as love begets love, it is not surprising that kambira was excessively fond of obo. but obo, becoming obstreperous, received an amicable punch from his father, which sent him headlong into a basket of boiled hippopotamus. he gave a wild howl of alarm as disco snatched him out of the dish, dripping with fat, and set him on his knee.

“there, there, don’t blubber,” said the seaman, tenderly wiping off the fat while the natives, including kambira, exploded with laughter. “you ain’t burnt, are you?”

as obo could not reply, disco put his finger into the gravy from which the urchin had been rescued, and satisfied himself that it was not hot enough to have done the child injury. this was also rendered apparent by his suddenly ceasing to cry, struggling off disco’s knee, and renewing his assaults on his easy-going father.

accepting an egg which was offered him by yohama, harold broke it, and entered into conversation with kambira through the medium of antonio.

“is your boy’s mother a— hollo! there’s a chick in this egg,” he exclaimed, throwing the offensive morsel into the fire.

jumbo, who sat near the place where it fell, snatched it up, grinned, and putting it into his cavernous mouth, swallowed it.

“dem’s betterer wid chickies,” he said, resuming his gravity and his knife and fingers,—forks being held by him in light esteem.

“ask him, antonio, if obo’s mother is alive,” said harold, trying another egg, which proved to be in better condition.

the interpreter, instead of putting the question without comment, as was his wont, shook his head, looked mysterious, and whispered— “no better ask dat. hims lost him’s wife. the slave-hunters cotch her some time ago, and carry her off when hims away hunting. hims awful mad, worser dan mad elerphint when hims speak to ’bout her.”

harold of course dropped the subject at once, after remarking that he supposed yohama was the child’s grandmother.

“yis,” said antonio; “she be kambira’s moder, an’ obo’s gran’moder—bof at once.”

this fact was, we may almost say, self-evident for obo’s attentions and favours were distributed exclusively between yohama and kambira, though the latter had unquestionably the larger share.

during the course of the feast, beer was served round by the little man who had performed so deftly on the violin the previous evening.

“drink,” said kambira hospitably; “i am glad to see my white brothers here; drink, it will warm your hearts.”

“ay, an’ it won’t make us drunk,” said disco, destroying jumbo’s peace of mind by winking and making a face at him as he raised the calabash to his lips. “here’s long life to you, kambira, an’ death to slavery.”

there can be no doubt that the chief and his retainers would have heartily applauded that sentiment if they had understood it, but at the moment antonio was too deeply engaged with another calabash to take the trouble to translate it.

the beer, which was pink, and as thick as gruel, was indeed too weak to produce intoxication unless taken in very large quantities; nevertheless many of the men were so fond of it that they sometimes succeeded in taking enough to bring them to the condition which we style “fuddled.” but at that time the particular brew was nearly exhausted, so that temperance was happily the order of the day.

having no hops in those regions, they are unable to prevent fermentation, and are therefore obliged to drink up a whole brewing as quickly as possible after it is made.

“man, why don’t ye wash yer face?” said disco to the little fiddler as he replenished his calabash; “it’s awful dirty.”

jumbo laughed, of course, and the small musician, not understanding what was said, followed suit out of sympathy.

“wash him’s face!” cried antonio, laughing, “him would as soon cut off him’s head. manganja nevair wash. ah me! you laugh if you hear de womans ask me yesterday— ‘why you wash?’ dey say, ‘our men nevair do.’ ho! ho! dey looks like it too.”

“i’m sure that cannot be said of kambira or any of his chief men,” said harold.

“perhaps not,” retorted antonio, “but some of ’um nevair wash. once ’pon a time one man of dis tribe foller a party me was with. not go way for all we tell ’um. we said we shoot ’um. no matter, hims foller still. at last we say, ‘you scoun’rel, we wash you!’ ho! how hims run! jist like zebra wid lion at ’um’s tail. nevair see ’um after dat—nevair more!”

“wot a most monstrous ugly feller that is sittin’ opposite kambira, on the other side o’ the fire—the feller with the half-shaved head,” said disco in an undertone to harold during a temporary pause in eating.

“a well-made man, however,” replied harold.—“i say, disco,” he added, with a peculiar smile, “you think yourself rather a good-looking fellow, don’t you, now?”

the worthy seaman, who was indeed an exceptionally good-looking tar, modestly replied— “well now, as you have put it so plump i don’t mind if i do confess that i’ve had some wild suspicions o’ that sort now and then.”

“then you may dismiss your suspicions now, for i can assure you that you are regarded in this land as a very monster of ugliness,” said harold, laughing.

“in the estimation of niggers your garments are hideous; your legs they think elephantine, your red beard frightful, and your blue eyes savage—savage! think of that.”

“well, well,” retorted disco, “your own eyes are as blue as mine, an’ i don’t suppose the niggers think more of a yaller beard than a red one.”

“too true, disco; we are both ill-favoured fellows here, whatever we may be elsewhere; however, as we don’t intend to take manganja wives it won’t matter much. but what think you of our plan, now that kambira is ready to fall in with it?”

“it seems a good one. when do we start?”

“to-morrow,” said harold.

“wery good,” replied disco, “i’m agreeable.”

the morrow came, and with the early light all the people turned out to witness the departure of the hunters. scouts had been previously sent out in all directions to make sure that no enemies or slave-traders were at that time in their immediate neighbourhood, and a strong force of the best warriors was left to guard the village.

of harold’s band, two half-castes, josé and oliveira, volunteered to stay in camp with the guard, and two, songolo and mabruki, the freemen of quillimane, remained in the village to recruit their health, which had failed. chimbolo likewise remained, the wounds on his back not having healed sufficiently to admit of the hard labour of hunting. all the rest accompanied the hunters, and of these the three makololo men, jumbo, zombo, and masiko, were incomparably the best and bravest. of course the volatile antonio also went, being indispensable.

on setting out—each man with his sleeping-mat on his back and his little wooden pillow hung at his neck,—there was a great deal of shouting and ho-ho-ing and well-wishing on the part of those who remained behind, but above all the noise there arose a shrill cry of intense and agonising despair. this proceeded from the small windpipe of little obo, who had not until the last moment made the appalling discovery that kambira was going away without him!

there was something very touching in the cry of the urchin, and something which brought vividly to the minds of the englishmen the infantine community of their own land. there was the same sudden gaze of horror on realising the true position of affairs,—the same sharp shriek and frantic struggle to escape from the grasp of those who held him back from following his father,—the same loud cry of agony on finding that his efforts were vain, and then, the wide-open mouth, the close-shut eyes, and the awful, prolonged silence—suggestive of fits—that betokens the concentration of mind, heart, and lungs into that tremendous roar of unutterable significance which appears to be the safety-valve of the human family, black and white, at that tender period of life.

poor obo! his sobs continued to burst out with steam-engine power, and his eyes to pour cataracts of tears into yohama’s sympathetic bosom, long after the hunting party had left the hills behind them, and advanced into the almost impenetrable jungles of the low grounds.