Gaunt nodded his head.
“Yes. They think it is a simple matter to fool Europe as they have done in the past. There are companies with a capital of a few thousands that pay an annual dividend of a quarter of a million pounds. You can readily understand how it is done. Their labor costs them nothing, and every native has to work six days out of the seven to bring in his allotted weight of rubber. If he fails he is flogged to death and his family is imprisoned. Thousands of women have been flogged and starved, because their men have not been able to bring in the required quantity of rubber.”
“And this is the twentieth century—it seems incredible!”
“But the state of things has been proved by innumerable trustworthy witnesses. It is strange to me that the British people have not been fired by the hearing of such atrocities. I suppose the Congo is too remote a country,” Gaunt said reflectively.
Drake had risen and began to pace rapidly to and fro. His brow was puckered into a frown and it was evident that he was deeply moved.
“I don’t think that we have ever really realized it. These poor innocent natives, butchered in cold blood, and all for the sake of gold. And they are white people as ourselves who reap the profit from this slavery.”
“Their condition is worse than slavery,” Gaunt said quietly.
“Can nothing be done? Are we quite helpless?” Drake cried passionately.
There was no reply and there was something akin to contempt in the look that he gave Gaunt.
“You are a rich man, and you say that your wealth was founded on this base traffic. You are in the confidence of these monsters who are wringing gold by murder and torture—can you think of no remedy?” he cried vehemently.