"To bury Zabadie, the king, who is dead."
I was somewhat comforted by this, as everything added to the chances of escape; for I knew that European vessels frequently anchored in the Bight of Benin, and I associated ideas of greater civilization with that quarter of Africa, though it bordered on Dahomey—that barbarous land of blood and terror.
It was evident that Amoo knew nothing about my encounter in the wood with the King, his brother, or the manner in which I had borrowed the royal dromedary; for he informed me, in the course of our obscure and somewhat pantomimic conversation, that on his return he would probably find himself King of the Snake River, as his brother was not expected to live.
I inquired why.
"As he was asleep under a tree, a great baboon let a big stone fall upon his head, and nearly killed him," replied Amoo, with perfect unconcern, and I cannot plead guilty to feeling the smallest compunction in the matter.
This species of caravan was proceeding from the territory of Gabon, whose king is a vassal of the monarch of Benin, with a tribute of female slaves, baskets, gourd vessels, panther skins, elephants' teeth, and gold dust, to assist at the funeral of the late royal defunct, or to lay at the feet of his successor; and I was pleased to find that we were to proceed as nearly as possible along the coast.
I resolved to take the first opportunity of securing arms—a musket and knife if possible—of leaving the cavalcade, and concealing myself in a wood near the sea-shore, there to await a ship; but the hope was formed in vain, for Amoo, who frequently spoke of the "great future in store for me at Benin," never lost sight of me for an instant, either by night or by day, when we halted.
When we did so, we warily lighted a circle of large fires to scare wild animals from our bivouac. and thus could sleep in security.