In a very short time we had got out an additional supply of ammunition, two hundred bullets extra for each man, and six one-pound cans of powder. We could not be taken unawares, for our guns had never left our hands, and by the side of each man hung always a bag containing one hundred bullets and two or three pounds of powder; so you see we had ammunition enough to carry on a desperate fight, and we were bound to sell our lives dearly, but not before having exhausted every means of conciliation.
Then, pointing to seven otaitais, I said, "Get ready to put them on at an instant's notice." They contained my precious things—photographs, scientific instruments, and valuable notes.
We were ready for our retreat in case war should be decided upon by the Ashangos.
The appearances were hopeful, and I began to think that the palaver would be settled satisfactorily, when suddenly a woman, whom afterward I recognized to be the queen, came wailing and tearing her hair. Stripping off her garment of grass-cloth, she rolled herself on the ground before me, crying, "Oguizi, what have I done to you? Why have you killed my sister? What had she done to you? She gave you food—that is the harm she has done you. Go and see her body behind the hut," and she wailed aloud. Then from afar the friendly elder, who did not desire at first to make war, shouted, "Why have you killed my wife, oh wicked Oguizi?"
The fatal bullet had gone through the man, and then through a hut, killing the sister of the queen, who was busy behind her dwelling.
As the sad news spread, a general shout for war arose from the increasing multitude, and every man who had not his spear or bow rushed for it, and those who had them brandished them in sign of defiance. War was declared—there was no help for it. Oh dear, what was to be done? I had not come into that far country to kill these savages, but then my men, who had left their homes, their wives, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, children, must not be killed—they trusted in me. What shall we do? Is Paul Du Chaillu to run away from the enemy? Shall these savages call him a coward? Such thoughts made the blood rush to my head. I shall never play the coward, but then there are many ways besides fighting to show one's courage. My mind was made up; so I girded my loins for the fight, sad at heart. First I thought I would set fire to the house where my baggage was, but there was so much powder there—several hundred pounds—that in exploding it more Ashangos would be killed. We had shed the first blood; we must be careful to shed no more without being obliged to do so, and I offered a silent prayer to God to guide me in what was to be done.
My seven Commi men stood by me, ready to start with their otaitais on their backs. "Be not afraid, boys," said I; "we are men."
We had to go through the whole length of the village before we could reach the path by which we had come to Mouaou-Kombo.
I shouted, "Ashangos, all the goods I have I give to you for the people that have been killed. Now we go away. We did not come here to make war; we did not come here to kill people. We don't wish to kill you, so do not compel us to do so."