This remark evinced a most cheerful spirit on the Skipper's part, but I felt that it was one thing to make such an assertion and another thing to believe that it would come true.
Here the curtains were parted, and the extra guard came in to say that the priest and priestess were waiting impatiently for our proof, if we had any. Alas! I shook my head miserably.
"The prince has mislaid his credentials," said our black friend, "but I am quite sure that he will find them in some miraculous way."
I personally had no such hope, and I followed the guard dejectedly back to the large chamber.
We returned between the carefully drawn curtains, and I remember that even that foetid atmosphere, with the flaming torches and the shining black and dripping bodies, seemed sweet as a May morning compared with the horrible air of the banqueting hall.
Our interpreter explained our dilemma to the Papaloi and his companion, but it was received with scorn and a horrible look of triumph. The Mamanloi, I fancied, seemed somewhat disappointed, but, if this were so, she dare not show such feeling.
"These are impostors," said the Papaloi sternly. "Let them stand aside until the holy dance is ended, and then we will decide upon their fate."
We were then led to the side of the hall, but not far from the throne. I thought that possibly our captors feared that during the excitement of the dance we might burst through the crowd and escape. Indeed, our guard advised us to try it, but he told us also that it had been attempted before, though unsuccessfully, and that the sentries would certainly be on the watch. It was curious to hear our interpreter roaring out the most secret messages. Things that would naturally have been whispered, he shouted, which robbed them of their appearance of secrecy, and seemed to be, as he assured the Papaloi that they were, orders from himself to us.
For instance, when I heard his stentorian tones telling me that the old idiot on the red hawse block was blind in one eye, and that if I got on that side I would have a better chance to escape, I was really frightened.
"Oh, you needn't look so scared!" added the guard. "The old nigger doesn't know a word of anything but Dahomey, mixed with a little French, and none of these rascals knows anything about a Christian tongue."