Cupid in Africa

by Percival Christopher Wren

“Then see if a mark like this is not in the corner of that piece of ’Mericani,” said the old lady, and plucking up her own wardrobe, showed where a small design was crudely stitched.

The askaris in charge of the prisoner quickly demonstrated that an identical “laundry-mark” ornamented his also. Presumably the worthy woman’s secret price-mark, or else her monogram.

Terrific agonies seized the prisoner, and with a groan of “Tumbo,” he sank to the ground.

A kick from each of the askaris revived him, and he arose promptly and took a bright interest in the subsequent proceedings, which consisted largely in the swearing by several of the villagers that they had seen the Germanis loot the old lady’s store and throw some pieces of the ’Mericani to the accused. Two of the witnesses were wearing petticoats which they had bought from the female witness, and which bore her private mark. . . .

“Gentlemen,” said the President at length, “I should like your written findings by six o’clock this evening, together with the sentence you would impose if you were sole judge in this case. The Court is deeply indebted to Captain Wavell for his courteous and most valuable assistance as interpreter. The witnesses may be discharged, and the prisoner removed to custody. . . . Clear the blasted Court, in fact, and come to the Bristol Bar. . . .”

“Oh, hang it all, Berners,” objected Augustus, “let’s hang him now. We can watch him dangle while we have tea. . . .” But the Court had risen, and the President was asking where the devil some bally, fat-headed fool had put his helmet, eh? . . .

For an hour Bertram sat in his banda with throbbing, aching head, considering his verdict. He believed the man to be a spy and a treacherous, murderous scoundrel—but what was really proven, save that he knew German and wore a garment marked similarly to those of three inhabitants of Pongwa? Were these facts sufficient to warrant the passing of the death sentence and to justify Bertram Greene, who, till a few days ago, was the mildest of lay civilians, to take the responsibility of a hanging judge and imbrue his hands with the blood of this man? If all that was suspected of him were true, what, after all, was he but a savage, a barbarous product of barbaric uncivilisation? . . . What right had anyone to apply the standards of a cultured white man from London to a savage black man from Pongwa? . . . A savage who had been degraded and contaminated by contact with Germans moreover. . . .

After many unsatisfactory efforts, he finally wrote out his judgment on leaves torn from his military pocket-book, and proposed, as verdict, that the prisoner be confined for the duration of the war as a spy, and receive twenty-five strokes of the kiboko for perjury. . . .

On repairing to Berners’ hut at the appointed time, he found that Clarence had written a longer and better judgment than his own, and had proposed as sentence that the accused be detained during the King’s pleasure at Mombasa Gaol, since it was evident that he had dealings with Germans and had recently been in German East Africa. He found the charge of leading a German raiding-party Not Proven.

The sentence of the President was that prisoner should receive twenty lashes and two years’ imprisonment, for receiving stolen goods, well knowing them to be stolen, and for committing perjury.