HARARU’S VILLAGE.
Page 108.
or not, while their elders laughed at them and at my ineffectual attempts to avoid their familiarities.
I may have been sitting like this for about an hour, when the drums round the image were beaten, and a very old white-haired negro came and sat down on a stool close by me, attended by other old men, who were evidently regarded with much veneration by the people.
When he had seated himself the drums ceased, and the girls who had found me by the river-side were called up and evidently examined about me, and then the four men who had brought me to the village had in their turn to be interrogated as to their share in the transaction. After this was completed the old man, whose face was most marvellously wrinkled, consulted for some time with the other elders, and gave some orders, which resulted in the appearance on the scene of a man whose face was masked. This individual bore in one hand a huge knife, and was followed by a woman carrying a large wooden bowl, who squatted down on the ground in front of me, while the man went through an expressive pantomime, intended to intimate that he was about to cut off my head.
I felt even more lost than when I was swimming in the river and thought the canoe was an alligator. I determined, however, not to show any sign of fear, but if I were to be killed, to die in a manner worthy of my English blood. The old man now commenced a long speech, in which I several times heard the name of Okopa mentioned; and when he had finished he turned toward me and said something in broken Spanish, in which all that I could make out were the words “Okopa,” “capitano,” and “esclavos.”
I broke out at last and said, “I’m no Spaniard, and can’t understand a word you’re saying. I’m English.”