Soon after the desertion of the British consul and the Governor-general of Mozambique by H.M. frigate “Castor,” a marked change took place in the conduct of the Governor-general of Mozambique; for he anticipated that the British government would not support Portugal in the struggle which he saw that weak power would have with France. Those who have studied this subject may pronounce their own opinion, but one thing is certain, that to the base desertion of the British consul at that critical period may be traced the subsequent insolence of the slave-dealers, the increase of the slave-trade, and the sufferings of H.M. Consul and family.
As long as Vasco Guedes remained at Mozambique, the slave-trade party felt that they had nothing to fear; but now that Colonel Almeida had arrived, and had published the Portarias of the King of Portugal, forbidding the French Free Labour Emigration, and his own declaration that it was his determination to persecute that traffic wherever he might find it in the province of Mozambique, the slave-dealers found that the British Consul and the Governor-general united were too much for them; they therefore determined to do all in their power to drive the former out of the colony, believing that afterwards they would be able to do as they pleased with the new Governor-general.
Three days after the sailing of H.M.S.V. “Geyser,” by which vessel Mr. Soares believed I had sent an application to England to have him appointed H.M. Vice-Consul at Mozambique, (but which I did not forward in consequence of learning to what extent he was engaged in the slave-trade, and by his own admission to me that he had been the principal person in establishing the French Free Labour Scheme at Mozambique):—Mr. Soares sent me a written intimation that he would require both his houses, the one on the island in twenty-four hours, and that on the mainland in a month or forty days. Until I received this intimation, I had not the slightest knowledge of anything of this sort which was going on, and, indeed, looked forward daily to getting into the house on the island.
I immediately called Mr. Soares to an account for treating me in this manner. His reply was, “They say, Mr. M’Leod, that I give you all the information about the slave-trade, and that I must leave the place, or that you must.” I asked him who they were, but he would not answer my question.
He told me that his father said that he must put me out of his house, to clear himself of the charge that had been brought against him by the Mozambique people. I asked him to tell me—if I was so foolish as to give up to him a house which I had taken for twelve months—where I could find another house vacant? He told me that there was not one in Mozambique; and that, if there was, the people had determined among themselves not to let me even have a room for an office, much less a house to live in.
I reminded him that he was differently treated at the Cape of Good Hope; he begged me, with tears in his eyes, not again to allude to what he could never forget; and stated that what he was doing he was compelled to do, and that if he left Mozambique it would be much worse for me.
Finding that he was quite insensible to reason, I gave him to understand that since, under numerous pretexts, he had prevented my taking absolute possession of that portion of the house on the island which was let to me, and that he was now in possession of it, why, I must submit to be deprived of it; but that, with regard to the house on the mainland, I intended to remain in it until the time agreed upon was completed, or until such time as I obtained another house. He got into a great rage, and told me that “he would remove all the slaves, and that I would be unable to live in the house then.” To which I replied “that then he would break his agreement with me.” This caused him to answer that he “did not care what he did to get me out of the house, for that his father said I must leave the place.”
From that day the slaves were gradually removed, until there was only one little child, called Azinte, left, who refused to leave.
Azinte was about eight years of age; she was a melancholy child, with intelligence far above her years. Her face was good, and there was a sweet resigned smile upon it, which interested the commonest observer.
She came especially under my wife’s notice in the following manner:—