Lost in the Jungle; Narrated for Young People

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

Every day I would cross the tongue of land separating the Fernand Vaz from the sea, and would go and look at the deep water of the ocean. My eyes would try to look far into the distance, in the hope of spying a sail. There was no vessel for me. I was still alone on that deserted coast of the Gulf of Guinea.

I loved to steal away from Washington, and seat myself all alone on the shore, and look at the big, long, rolling billows of the surf as they came dashing along, white with foam; the booming sound they gave in breaking was like music to me. It was so nice to have left that everlasting jungle; to see prairie land and the wide expanse of the Atlantic; to look at the sun as it disappeared, apparently under the water. How grand the spectacle was! I loved to look at the gulls, to hear their shrill cries, for these cries were so unlike those of the birds of the great forest. There was also something very invigorating in that strong sea breeze that came from the south and southwest. Beyond the breakers I could see now and then the fins of some huge sharks searching for their prey; sometimes they would hardly appear to move, at other times they swam very fast.

The time had not yet come for me to return to New York. I must go back again into the great jungle; I must discover new mountains, new rivers, new tribes of people, new beasts, and new birds; I must have more fights with gorillas, more elephant-hunting. I would be so glad to see Querlaouen, Malaouen, and Gambo.

While I was in the interior, the Commi people, in great council, had made me a makaga, which title only one man, and he generally the best hunter and bravest, may bear. The office of the makaga is to lead in all desperate frays. He is the avenger of blood. If any one has murdered one of his fellow-villagers, and the murderer's townspeople refuse to give him up (which almost always happens, for they think it a shame to surrender any one who has taken refuge with them), then it is the office of the makaga to take the great warriors of the tribe, to attack and destroy the village, and cut off the heads of as many people as he can.

If any one is suspected of being a wizard, and runs away from his village, it is the business of the makaga to follow and capture him. In that case he is a kind of sheriff. In fact, he has to see that the laws are executed.

It was only among the Commi that I heard of a makaga.

So you may conceive I did not care to be a makaga, and in a great meeting of the chiefs I declared I could not be. But they all shouted, "We want you, the great slayer of beasts, to be our makaga; we want you to stay with us all the time."

I was getting well and strong again, for I had taken a long rest. I concluded I must go again into the jungle.

My good friend Ranpano said, "Why do you wish to go back into the forest? If you go again to countries where not one black man has ever gone before, we shall never see you again. I have heard that the people want you; they only desire to kill you, for they want to get your skull; they want to make a fetich of your hair. They have many fetiches, but they want one from your hair and brain. We love you; you are our white man. What you tell us to do, we do. When you say it is wrong, we do not do it. We take care of your house, your goats, your fowls, your parrots, your monkeys, and your antelopes;" then shouted with a loud voice, "We love you!"

To which all the people answered, "Yes, we love him. He is our white man, and we have no other white man."