April 9th.—This morning, after spending the night on the banks of a small river called the Tondy, a short distance from the village of Ngoly, just as we were emerging from our tents to get on the road again, Nassar appeared with the intelligence that both escort and porters refused to start. Their obstinacy this time appeared to him to be invincible, and he held it to be prudent to give the caravan a day's rest.
"So be it," said de Morin, after consulting with Madame de Guéran. "We had a hard day yesterday, the stages were long, the showers heavy, and the heat overpowering. We also think it better to rest here for a day, close to the river and in the shade, but we must not appear to give in to these people. We must make them believe that we, too, want a little peace and quietness. I'll manage it."
And, lighting a cigarette, he went quietly towards the encampment, and, accosting the first Nubian he met, he said in Arabic, which we were all beginning to speak with tolerable ease—
"Tell your comrades not to strike the tents, because we intend to remain here to-day. There is to be a fête to-night in a neighbouring village, and we want to see it. So much the worse for you all if you want to move on. There will be no marching to-day, and you can tell them all that I say so."
The news, spread at once throughout the kraal that the Europeans intended to be present at the fête, or orgie, which was in preparation in the village of Ngoly. In reality this fête was the very reason why the negroes refused to move on, but they never expected that their white chief would partake in their wish. If they gave full value to his generosity and sense of justice, they also dread his anger, and it was not without a certain amount of alarm that they had entered into a conspiracy to remain where they were. Their fears now disappeared, and they gave themselves up gleefully to the sweets of idleness for the day, and the prospect of every sort of excess in the evening.
CHAPTER XXI.
The moon was at the full, and the sky appeared as bright as at mid-day, on the evening when we were called upon to share in the games and mirth of the Africans. The two ladies remained in camp, there being too much license in equatorial revelry to admit of their presence.
The whole village at eight o'clock was summoned to the fête by beat of drum, and the largest huts were at once transformed into cafés, where all the Bongos, with the chief at their head, set to work to drink themselves into a fitting state for the coming festivities. The intoxicating beverages were contained in large earthenware jars, ranged along the walls, and from these the liquid was ladled out wholesale, by means of small gourds and calabashes.
But presently the drinking gave place to a general outcry for the dancing to begin. The huts were deserted and the streets of the village crowded in proportion, and all the men, followed by the women and children, hurried at full speed, yelling and leaping, towards a neighbouring plain surrounded by dense thickets.
The fête, properly so called, now commenced by a circle being formed round some toothless, wizened old sorcerers, who droned out a lengthy recitative in measured, almost melancholy rhythm. The bystanders, whose ears caught the strain at once, joined in the chant, and the whole of the voices formed one vast, reverberating chorus, in the midst of which, at intervals, could be heard the howling of a dog, the cackling of hens, the crowing of cocks, the roaring of a lion, or the shrill trumpeting of an elephant, serving as so many incentives to the concourse to give free scope to their talent for imitation.