Chapter 13
On the morning on which zu Pfeiffer burned the village of Yagonyana, Birnier was encamped upon the southern boundary of Wongolo. By his “coup de superstition” had he recovered all his equipment except several bottles of brandy, some canned goods and two and a half pairs of pyjamas; also the field boots. The noble Inyira, son of Banyala, and his merry men never attempted to recapture their prisoners; no one save the Eater-of-Men in person could have persuaded them to return to that camp even had they had their rifles.
After Birnier had dressed his own foot and the charred feet of his men, had had a good drink and a better meal, he had sought to address the balance of his mind through a medium designed for the cure of melancholy, but efficacious for many other ills, The Anatomy of Melancholy. He opened the one big volume which had been his companion throughout his travels at a page marked at haphazard by an ivory paper knife with the American flag upon the flat hilt, an early gift from Lucille, and began to read the remarks of Robert Burton of quaintly glorious memory upon the source of his late adventure.
“Those which are jealous, most part, if they be not otherwise relieved, proceed from suspicion to hatred, from hatred to frenzy, madness, injury, murder [pg 143] and despair … Amestris, Xerxes’s wife, because she found her husband’s cloak in Masista’s house, cut off Masista’s wife’s paps and gave them to the dogs, flayed her besides and cut off her ears, lips, tongue, and slit the nose of Artaynta, her daughter.”
“Cheerful lady! She ought to have been zu Pfeiffer’s wife,” commented Birnier and went to sleep.
Birnier arose feeling rational enough to reconsider his position. The recollection of the signature on the photograph now failed to stimulate the emotional reaction as once it had done. The experience through which he had passed had had a beneficial effect in breaking or disconnecting the train of suggestive images. At first in the recess of his mind had lurked the desire to abandon everything, to rush straight to Lucille to demand an explanation. Now the rising sun of reason cast quite different shadows upon the incident. The high light was the fact that should he do so he would be sacrificing his mission for what might prove to be ridiculous. As his mind contemplated the subject the echo of “à toi, Lucille” tended to carry a high note, but this he vented by writing a long letter to Lucille recounting the facts and frankly admitting that he had been sufficiently insane with jealousy to “go up in the air.” Once or twice he ceased to write and gazed anxiously into the glare as his imagination suggested the long period of waiting for an answer, wondering whether the echo of that cursed “à toi” might not become unbearably shrill. He became a little more sentimental towards the end of the letter, remarking that perhaps he had been wrong in deserting her for so long and emphasising [pg 144] the rather ridiculous point that he was aware that he was not a young man. However, he let it remain, and at the first opportunity sent off the letter by runner to the nearest station in Uganda, together with an order for certain goods to be sent to a village on the Wongolo border.
Although still inclined to be emotional over the photograph, Birnier did not waste any energy over vindictive thoughts upon zu Pfeiffer, whom he philosophically regarded as irresponsible for his actions, inasmuch as he had been made that way just as any savage. He had gotten out of the toils set for him, so why should he spend time and trouble in seeking revenge which would merely consist in reporting the incident through a British station to Washington, who would open up interminable polite correspondence with the German Embassy, who would again write prodigious letters to the Colonial Minister in Berlin, who would… Ludicrous! No; he would not permit zu Pfeiffer to interfere with his plans. He would continue straight to Wongolo instead of investigating the Kivu country, where zu Pfeiffer might perhaps have another opportunity to cause more trouble. Accordingly he negotiated with the nearest village for carriers and set out, striking due west, thus approaching the Wongolo territory towards the southern boundary.
The people to the south of the Wongolo country was an inferior race, whom the Wongolo periodically raided to replenish their slaves. These Wamongo were split up into several petty chiefdoms, usually at war with one another. They had no defined theology. For they had not progressed beyond the stage of magic [pg 145] as far as any concept of religion, that is of praying for intercession to any power greater than themselves; whereas the mental state of the Wongolo was half-way between magic and religion, mixing and confusing the two as exemplified in the Rain-making ceremony of employing magic and alternately invoking the god and threatening him with dire penalties if he did not behave. There seemed to be no royal family or clan of the Wamongo; chiefs changed constantly as one more powerful for the moment arose; the wizards did not appear to have any political power, acting as general physicians and confining their efforts apparently to simple magic for the growing of corn, the curing of the evil eye and wounds. They were terrified of the Wongolo, much to Mungongo’s pride, who never let slip an opportunity of swaggering and bruiting abroad the fame of his master as the greatest of magicians the world had ever seen. Never was he tired of relating to a grunting audience the terrible sight and effect of his master’s transposition into a spirit. The yarn lost nothing in the telling.
Progress was slow. Every afternoon, as regular as the sun set, clouds of sepia sailed up from the west to clothe the world in a grey deluge of falling water. Fortunately they were travelling up a watershed so that there were no large rivers to cross. As they approached the Wongolo border rumours began of a white god with eyes upon his hands and live fire in his mouth who, so said the delighted Wamongo, had entirely eaten up the hated Wongolo. They seemed prepared to accept Birnier, when suggesting that he should make magic for them to conquer the Wongolo, as another terrible white god, and were accordingly [pg 146] polite. But Mungongo, vastly indignant, denied the story; according to him, no power on earth could have subdued his race, except perhaps the mighty Moonspirit (the name he had bestowed upon Birnier).
But when Birnier arrived at the first village of the Wongolo the absence of warriors corroborated the wild tales they had heard. The inhabitants of old men, boys and women surrounded the camp to gaze in awestruck curiosity at the white whom they believed to be the brother of the Eyes-in-the-hands. This calumny Mungongo strenuously gainsaid, and anew recounted the marvellous feats of magic of Moonspirit who could, he assured his compatriots, eat up Eyes-in-the-hands as easily as a crocodile would swallow a goat. Yet in spite of their terror they insisted that Birnier must go through the ceremony of purification incumbent upon all strangers in order to exorcise the evil influence of their eyes and souls; also the customary present must be sent to the king and his august permission to enter awaited, although no man knew where he was since the capital had been burned. Mungongo waxed furious. He informed them that Moonspirit was a friend of the Son-of-the-Snake, and moreover had before been in the country; that if they vexed Moonspirit he would enchant the whole village so that no man could move hand or foot. No matter, said they, that was the rule and must be done. They were impressed but obstinate.
From the description of this destroying god, who was the colour of a stripped banana and tall as a palm tree, had fire in his mouth and eyes upon his hands—it was some time before he could recognise the “eyes”—and [pg 147] whose companions were devils strangely clothed, dragging horrific monsters who spat earthquakes, Birnier had no difficulty in recognising zu Pfeiffer, and recollected the significant pumping at dinner regarding the Wongolo country. However he had renounced any idea of revenge, but the discovery of friend zu Pfeiffer as the terrifying god amused him: quickened a desire to overset the gentleman’s plans. He smiled with a slight hardening of the line about his mouth as he began to consider what might be done.
As far as he could estimate by recalling the size of the native barracks at Fort Ingonya, he reckoned that zu Pfeiffer could not possibly have more than three hundred men, unless he had been reinforced from the east. Roughly he calculated that the Wongolo ought to be able to put about ten thousand warriors in the field. That number under any sort of leadership, even though they were only armed with spears and swords, should wipe out the three hundred, in spite of the discipline and two or three machine-guns, by sheer weight of numbers. But, from what he had already heard, zu Pfeiffer had evidently caught them unprepared, wiped out a mass and secured a supernatural effect by destroying the idol. He remembered his talk on das Volkliches and his comment that zu Pfeiffer was unusually well informed upon the psychology of the native mind.
During two days disputing in the native manner news came in of fresh [massacres], adding to the general terror. He sent for the headman and with him held a long shauri. The result was that the old fellow conceived the wonderful idea, already suggested by his lesser brethren, of enlisting the services of this white [pg 148] man, reputed to be a most marvellous magician, in their protection.
Then having had his wits sharpened by his own originality and a sheath knife, the headman promptly discovered that the ceremony of exorcism could not be performed because the local wizard had departed with every ounce of magic for the front. Still there were obstinate and fearful persons who wished that Birnier should send a message to the king and wait until he had the permission. Another two days were lost until this objection was overcome by certain presents of “bafta,” destined for the king, being handed over to the village.
On the week’s march across Wongolo, Mungongo triumphantly held spellbound audiences at every village through which they passed. As they neared the site of the City of the Snake, where they heard zu Pfeiffer was encamped, they encountered deserted villages. When they came upon the smouldering embers of one Birnier consented to turn aside from the regular trail in order to pass to the west of Kawa Kendi’s where, so the natives said, were Zalu Zako and Bakahenzie.
Beyond a belt of forest was open rolling country. They came to a village of five huts where dwelt some herdsmen, although most of the cattle had been driven westwards. Mungongo, seeking at Birnier’s suggestion for some one who had actually been present at the village when zu Pfeiffer attacked, discovered a young girl who had escaped. He brought the daughter of Bakala into the presence of Moonspirit still pathetically clutching the amulet which Marufa had sold her. But from Bakuma, who had fled to the [pg 149] forest at the first assault and afterwards to this herdsmen’s village where the fact of the tabu would not yet have penetrated, Birnier could interpret little of value. Of the whereabouts of Zalu Zako she knew no more than the peasants. She remembered Infunyana, as he had been called on his previous visit to the City of the Snake, and to her it seemed that a god had descended from the blue sky personally to aid her. So utterly incomprehensible and terrifying had the attack appeared that unconsciously the inevitability of her doom was shaken; if such things could happen, she felt rather than thought, then who could say what else was possible? She asked permission to travel with Moonspirit. Birnier, who knew from her dress, or lack of it, that she was unmarried, smiled as he wondered whether she was seeking her lover.
Throughout their journey they had not met a single warrior; but as they neared the place of the king they began to meet groups of them. At the sight of the first headdress Bakuma bolted into the grass, nor did she reappear until after they had gone. Later she came to Birnier and asked permission to hide within his tent when the warriors appeared, and to his question began to explain the fate to which she had been doomed. Naturally this account of the Marriage of the Bride of the Banana at the Harvest Festival was of value as well as of interest to Birnier, from whom it had been concealed when in the country before. He cross-questioned her and made notes; but Bakuma could give him practically no details of what actually happened, a secret well guarded by the craft.
They looked downcast, these warriors, and were doubtful what to do on meeting another white. [pg 150] Many had never before seen a white man and were inclined to bestow upon Moonspirit all the attributes which they had given to Eyes-in-the-hands. Eh! said they, Eyes-in-the-hands is a more powerful god than the Unmentionable One, for has he not eaten him up? Eyes-in-the-hands has imprisoned the thunder and the lightning in a bag which he looses at will. Who could withstand him? Had they better not submit before his wrath had eaten them all up? E-eh! man cannot fight with a god, as any fool knows.
They were returning to their homes to make pilgrimage to the new god, to propitiate him with oxen and with ivory lest worse befall. However they knew where Zalu Zako was hidden, also the wizards whose magic was as a drop of water in a fire. Mungongo did not fail to relate the marvels of Moonspirit which he had seen with his own eyes, he and those with him. The warriors listened without being in the least impressed. That, said they, was merely woman’s magic to what Eyes-in-the-hands could do! Aie-e! had not they fallen dead in masses at the cough of one of his monster spirits! Aie-e! had not the look of him burned up the Unmentionable One as a straw in a fire! Therefore was he not greater than the god? Aie-e! was he not burning their villages at will! Aie-e, brothers, they must hasten to appease the wrath of so terrible a god!
Birnier saw that it was useless to attempt to argue with them. Zu Pfeiffer, with his shrewd stroke at the kernel of their faith in the symbol of the idol, had established a kind of godhead; and by his ferocious massacres had thoroughly cowed them. However [pg 151] Birnier secured one man to guide him to where Zalu Zako, the witch-doctors and those who remained with him, were in hiding.
On the fringe of the dense forest they camped. The warrior guide went to acquaint Zalu Zako of their approach, else otherwise the sight of a white might provoke an attempt at massacre or flight. On the third day the man returned bearing greetings from Zalu Zako personally who remembered well Infunyana, the only white man whom he had ever met.
For two days, on a faint trail, in a steamy heat pulsing with chromatic birds and lizards, they journeyed through the forest, the skirts of the vast Ituri whose deepest recess is the home of the pygmy. One early forenoon they were halted by the warrior in apparently trackless jungle and bidden to camp. Mungongo was indignant, but protest was useless as the man refused to conduct them any farther, saying that Zalu Zako would come to them. So the carriers cut a circle and built a zareba and the messenger was swallowed by the green wall bearing presents of two rifles.