They waved their arms in the air and joined in with the drum. They sang their weird chant slowly, and with a sort of solemnity which impressed me with a horrid fascination. Later I learned that the words of the song were:
"We will beat the little drum. You will witness who will come. They will rise from out the ground At the ringing tum-tum's sound, Papaloi, O! Papaloi."
The drum was a hollow piece of wood, probably made of a section of the stem of a well-grown tree. Across one end was stretched the skin of some animal, brute or human, I could not tell which. The drum was carried between two men, who beat with their knuckles upon this vile instrument of torture to the senses. The tremor began almost imperceptibly. It sounded for some minutes before one awakened to the fact that it was the rolling of a drum that was heard. It increased by easy stages, until at last the sound was deafening, and hurt the ear as if with a physical pain.
There seemed to be a fatal fascination in the sound of this savage music which had its birth in the far-distant land of Dahomey. The moment that it fell upon the ear an uneasy look overspread the faces of those who heard its summons, and I have been told that its sectaries must follow its subtile suggestion whether they would or no. The whole social system was so interlarded with the barbarous practice to which it called that it became a boast among its votaries. In later years than those of which I write, a woman was tried for participating in one of the revolting vaudoux feasts. On her way to prison she looked at her captors and said:
"Only let me have my sacred drum. I will beat it on the way to prison, and you will see who will follow. From the lowest to the highest they will join, not only the poor and humble, but those in high places."
And now, as the throng approached nearer, I saw that many of those composing it were almost unclothed except for the handkerchief round the head, always of that terrible shade which smelt of dark deeds. Then the crowd opened, and I saw one walking alone. He, too, wore a red handkerchief round his forehead, but the rest of his body was also bound with many red cloths. Around his waist was a brilliant blue band, which created a startling contrast, and his hair was knotted in a peculiar way, which I found was a characteristic of the priests of the vaudoux. Upon the handkerchief which crossed his breast was embroidered in rough but effective manner a green serpent, body coiled, head raised ready to strike.
As the procession approached the edifice where we were standing, the Papaloi came forward with a slow and undulating pace. His look of surprise as his eyes fell upon us it would be difficult to describe. I heard him ask his followers one question. It was, "Q' bagga' ça?" Afterward, when I knew a little more of this remarkable mixture of the provincial French and the African, I found that these words, repeated often, were intended to mean, "Quel bagage est cela?"
The mob around us began to shake their heads in protest. There was a quick, short, decisive order, and then three or four of the men stepped behind us and began prodding us with their knives. Thus we were forced into the open air and out into the glade in front of the church. I saw that the primary object of the visit to the church had been lost sight of for the time. I should have been glad to recall it to mind, for I felt sure that it had to do with the child whom Zalee had rescued, but I had no way of making them understand me. You may think that was a selfish idea, but I felt that Zalee and the boy had fled to some safe place of retreat. Then again I argued against this first feeling of mine, for should I set them on the track of the child they might in roaming come across our new house and Cynthia. I shuddered to think of this for a moment. As these thoughts for and against were running through my brain, we stood gazing at the astounding figure of our principal captor, and he stood stolidly staring at us.
"Handsome, ain't he?" remarked the Skipper.
He was certainly grotesque, and I felt for a moment as much inclined to laugh as ever I did in my life. Perhaps it was well that the comical appearance of the Papaloi had struck me, for he saw that I was not in abject fear, and, instead of giving an order that we should be run through on the spot, he shouted a hurried sentence, which certainly was not what I feared. We were made to face front, the Skipper before and I behind him. Some of the motley crowd led, the rest closed in upon us, and thus, the Papaloi bringing up the rear, we started on our march through the wood. My position was most unpleasant. The Skipper could not keep up the quick march which was forced upon me by those in the rear, and I was prodded in the legs and pricked in the calves until I could almost have prodded the Skipper in turn.