tempt the ruler with glittering English sovereigns. Alas!
the king had not arrived; but John had a long story to tell.
A number of strangers—messengers from the king—had
come to the town.
And, continued John, “ de beeg woman, de moder of
de king wants to see de master.”
Consequently I followed two men, who took me to the
large hut. I t was very dark inside, but I was told to go in.
As there are no windows in these abodes, I could see nothing
on entering. Gradually, however, I could dimly discern the
figure of a very old woman, wearing no garments save a
waist-cloth, and whose horny skin resembled a bad cigar,
when the outer leaf has been removed. The shrivelled old
“ anatomy ” greeted me with some words which I could not
understand. She was evidently a native.
“ So, ho ! ” was my half-uttered ejaculation; “ if Sakanii’s
father was like Sakanii’s mother, there must have been
precious little of the Portuguese about him.”
The miserable hut was almost filled with baskets of an
immense size, for holding provisions. Two men were
sitting beside the old woman. She said they had just
arrived from the Zambesi, and that her son would follow on
the next day. He was on the road, and as a token of the
truth of this statement, she showed me an immense knife,
which the men had brought with them; the only way she
could tell He was coming, for the old lady’s education indicated
more of the exercise of the hoe than the wielding of
the pen. Her bump of understanding was agricultural to a
degree.
"While the interview was proceeding, I could not help
giving place to the impression that the whole affair was a
trick designed to keep me in the town, so that more goods
could be had from the too slender store; the people thinking
of course that my supply was inexhaustible, and that every
word I spoke was utterly untrue. Moreover, they might
think that by detaining me they would ensure their supply
of meat. If this in reality was their plan, it was not a
bad one; but I could not afford to fall out with the old
lady.
Beturning from her majesty’s presence, I found all the
boys in a happier frame of mind, Karemba declaring he
was so glad that he could hardly keep still. Poor Kjiremba
was the man who had assisted me most during this arduous
trip. When I saw his mirthful mood, I could not help
thinking what an easy matter it is to be jolly when all
around is sunshine.
This faint glimmer of hope and excitement was soon
past, and I wandered down to the sandy bed of the
Msingua Biver, where I dug a deep hole, and had a bath.
Thus ended another day’s proceedings.
I now discovered that “ Satan’s ” real name (by the way
not half so appropriate as that which I bestowed upon him)
was Yitrine Usigingome. Along with others of his caste,
he appeared dawdling in the streets, inviting me to go and
drink beer, under the impression, doubtless, that this would
keep me in a humour to part with goods more readily.
Accompanying the crowd, we soon arrived at the lounging
place of these peculiarly lazy men, consisting of a circular
grass roof raised upon poles, and a very good dried mud
floor, on which a cane mat was placed, where the company
lay or squatted to drink pombe for the livelong day. Such
is the dolce fa r niente of these half-castes—a life of most
repulsive indolence.
And yet they are the progeny of conquerors. As such
they must be given due deference by the sons of the conquered,
who, when they approach to address them, or to sit