To halt now would be to lose precious time. With parched lips and starting eyeb.a.l.l.s the men pushed on, and, instead of songs and jokes, cries and groans were heard on every side. Now a weary pagazi sank down, declaring that he could carry his load no longer; now another and another followed his example. In vain the Arab leaders urged them to rise with threats and curses, using the points of their spears. The hapless men staggered on, then dropping their loads attempted to fly.
Two were shot dead as a warning to the rest, and their masters distributed their loads among the others who appeared better able to carry them, but, ere long, others sinking down, stretched themselves on the ground and were left to die in the desert. Time would have been lost in attempting to carry them.
"Is this the way you Arabs treat your followers?" asked Ned, who felt indignant at the apparent cruelty of the chiefs.
"They are but slaves," answered Sayd in a careless tone. "Necessity has no law; let us go forward, or their fate may be ours."
"Onwards, onwards!" was the cry. The chiefs shouted to their people to keep together, for already many were straggling behind. They had started, feeling confident that by their numbers all difficulties would be overcome, but had they mustered ten thousand men the same fate by which they were now threatened might have overtaken them. Even young Ha.s.san, generally so joyous and dauntless, began to complain; but Sambroko took him by the arm and helped him along, every now and then applying his water-bottle to his lips.
Among the pagazis Ned had observed a young man of pleasing countenance, who had always been amongst the merriest of the merry, though his load was heavier than that of many. He had never complained, but was now staggering along endeavouring to keep up with the rest. Ned, seeing how much he was suffering, offered him a draught from his own water-bottle.
"Stop!" cried Sayd. "You will want it for yourself."
"I cannot disappoint him," answered Ned, as he poured the water down the lad"s throat.
The young pagazi"s countenance brightened, and he uttered an expression of grat.i.tude as he again attempted to follow his companions.
"I should like to carry some of his load," said Ned. "He is younger than the rest, and it is too much for him. Here! let me help you along," he added, making signs of his intention.
"You will bring contempt on yourself if you do that," observed Sayd.
"No Arab would demean himself by carrying a load."
"An Englishman thinks nothing derogatory when necessary," answered Ned, taking the package off the shoulders of the youth, who, while he expressed his grat.i.tude, seemed much astonished at the offer being made.
Ned trudged on with it manfully for some minutes, but soon began to feel the weight oppressive. Sambroko observed him, and, taking hold of the load, swung it on his own back and carried it a considerable distance.
Then calling to the young pagazi bade him carry it forward.
Ned begged Sayd to thank Sambroko, who answered, that though he could no longer bear to see his master"s friend thus fatigue himself, the young pagazi must expect no further help from him.
"But I must try and help him, for I could not bear to see the poor fellow sink down and die as so many are doing."
"There is nothing strange in that," remarked Sambroko. "I once crossed a desert larger than this, and one half our number were left behind; but we got through and returned during the wet season with large cargoes of ivory, and our masters, for I was then a slave, were well content."
Sayd translated to Ned what was said.
"I wonder the Arabs venture into a country where so many lose their lives," said Ned.
"The profits are great," answered Sayd. "Men will dare and do anything for gain; each hopes to be more fortunate than his predecessor."
The young slave, greatly rested and refreshed by the water, and even more by the sympathy shown him, marched forward with an almost elastic step.
"O young master!" he said, looking at Ned, "my heart feels light. I thought no one cared for poor Chando; but I now know that there are kind men in the world."
Sayd explained the meaning of the black"s words.
"Chando!" repeated Ned. "I have heard that name before. Inquire where he comes from, and how long he has been a slave."
Sayd put the questions.
"From the village of Kamwawi in Warua," answered the young pagazi without hesitation. "It is far, far away from here. It is so long ago since I was taken that I could not find my way back; but were I once there, I should know it again. The hills around it, the beautiful lake, into which falls many a sparkling stream, rushing down amid rocks and tall trees. Would that we were there now instead of toiling over this arid desert. How delightful it would be to plunge into some cool and sheltered pool where no crocodile or hippopotamus could reach us. What draughts of water we would drink," and the black opened his mouth as if to pour some of the longed-for fluid down it.
Sayd imitated the movement of his lips as he translated what was said.
"Chando! Chando!" repeated Ned. "Ask him if he had a father or mother living when he was carried off to become a slave."
"I had a mother, but whether or not she escaped from the slaves I cannot say. I never saw her again. I once had a father, whom I remember well; he used to carry me in his arms, and give me wild grapes and sweet fruit. He was either killed by a lion or an elephant, or was captured by the slave hunters, who, it was said, had been prowling about in the neighbourhood at that time, though they did not venture to attack our village, which was too strong for them."
Ned became very much interested in the account Chando gave of himself.
"Inquire whether he can recollect the name of his father."
Sayd put the question.
"Yes, I remember it perfectly well. It was Baraka."
Ned gave a shout of joy, and forgetting his danger and fatigue, and all that was still before him, he rushed forward, and, grasping Chando"s hand, exclaimed--
"I know your father; I promised him that I would search for you, and now I have found you. There can be no mistake about it. He told me that his son"s name was Chando, and you say your father"s name was Baraka, that he disappeared, and has never since come back. I would far rather have found you than made my escape, or returned to the coast the possessor of hundreds of elephants" tusks."
Sayd"s exclamations of surprise somewhat interrupted Ned"s remarks as he translated them to Chando. The latter almost let his load drop in his agitation as he asked, "Is Baraka--is my father still alive? O my young master, can you take me to him? Can you find my mother, that we may be together and be once more happy as we were before he was carried away to become a slave?"
"The very thing I wish to do," answered Ned. "I will try to get your master to give you your freedom at once; or, if he will not now do so, as soon as we return to the coast."
So deeply interested were Ned and his companions in the discovery he had made, that they forgot for a time their fatigue and their thirst. Even Sambroko and young Ha.s.san listened eagerly.
"I know where Kamwawi is!" exclaimed the huge black. "It is to the north-west, but it would take many days to reach. It is a fine country, and the people are brave and warlike; though the slave hunters sometimes go there to trap the natives, they seldom venture to attack the villages."
"It is true, it is true!" answered Chando. "I was captured whilst out hunting elephants with some other lads. They all died--I alone lived; and after being sold several times became the slave of Abdullah. It was better than being sent away on board a dhow to be carried to some far off land, where I might have been ill-treated by strangers, and have no chance of meeting with any of my own people."
"We must try to reach Kamwawi, and endeavour to ascertain whether Chando"s mother is still alive. I promised her husband to bring her back as well as her son if I could find them. It would be a glorious thing to rescue both," exclaimed Ned.
"To do that would be impossible," answered Sayd. "Abdullah will not lead the caravan so far away for such an object. Even should we reach the village you speak of, we should be looked upon as enemies, besides which, the woman is by this time dead, or is married to another husband, and she would not wish to quit her home to go to a distant country for the mere chance of finding her husband alive. You must give up the idea, my friend; the undertaking, I repeat, is impossible."
Ned made no reply, there was too much truth, he feared, in Sayd"s remarks. For some time he tramped on, thinking over the matter. At last he again turned to the Arab--
"Sayd," he exclaimed, "I want you to do me a favour--to obtain Chando"s liberty. If you have to purchase his freedom, as I suppose you must, I will promise, when we return to the coast, to repay you the cost, whatever it may be."
Sayd smiled at the request.
"Abdullah is not the man willingly to dispose of a healthy slave, who will be able to carry a whole tusk on his shoulders back to the coast,"
he answered. "Perhaps when the journey is over he may be ready to talk over the matter, but he will demand a high price, of that you may be certain."
"I will pay him any price he may ask. I am sure I shall find friends ready to help me to advance the money until I can send it to them from England."
This answer showed that, although Ned was tramping over the desert in the interior of Africa without a penny in his pocket, or any equivalent in his possession, he had not lost his spirits, and was as sanguine as ever as to getting home some day. As he looked round, however, at the haggard countenances of the Arab leaders and their armed followers, as well as at those of the pagazis, he might with good reason have dreaded that none of them would ever reach the fertile region said to lie beyond the desert. Already many more had fallen, and their track was strewn with the bodies of dead or dying men.
The survivors staggered on, well knowing that to stop was certain destruction. The Arabs no longer attempted to drive them forward, or to distribute the loads of those who sank down among the rest. They themselves were too eager to reach a stream where they might quench their thirst and rest their weary limbs. They would then send back to recover the loads, and pick up any of the men who might still be alive.
But hour after hour went by, and the hot sun glared in their faces like the flame from a furnace, almost blinding their eyes. Darkness came on, but still they pushed forward. The same cry resounded from all parts of the caravan: "They must march through the night." Should they halt, how many would be alive in the morning? Ned had told Chando to keep close to his side, and had supplied him every now and then with a few drops of water. Had others seen this, Ned would have run the risk of having his bottle taken from him. He would, indeed, have been glad to share the water with his companions, but he knew that, divided among many, it would avail them nothing. Not a word was now exchanged among any of Sayd"s party, but they kept compactly together. At length Ned caught sight of some objects rising up ahead. They were tall trees with spreading branches. They would not grow thus unless with nourishment from below.
The Arabs and their followers raised a shout, and pressed forward.
Every instant they expected to come upon a stream. Several of the trees were pa.s.sed, and none was seen. At length they reached a bank below which the stars were reflected as in a mirror.