Ned Garth; Or, Made Prisoner in Africa: A Tale of the Slave Trade

by William Henry Giles Kingston

At daybreak Sayd’s small caravan commenced its march, Sambroko uttering a farewell shout to their fate companions, who replied by derisive cries. “They may shriek as they like,” he observed, “but they will before long change their tone. They will either have to recross the desert, or will have to go a long way round to avoid it, when they will find enemies in all directions through whom they will have to fight their way.”

Ned would have rejoiced at getting free of Abdullah had Chando been with him, though he did not despair of recovering the young slave on his return to Zanzibar. Still he knew that many circumstances might prevent this. Chando might succumb to the fatigues of the journey, as many others had done, or might be killed should the caravan be attacked by hostile natives, or Abdullah might ship him off with other slaves on board a dhow, should they reach the coast. All Ned could do, therefore, was to hope that none of these events would occur.

There was but little time for thought. Sayd was anxious, by forced marches, to get away from the neighbourhood of the village which had been so treacherously treated, lest the inhabitants of other villages—supposing that he and his followers had been engaged in the proceeding—should attack them and revenge themselves on his head. They marched on therefore all day, with only a short halt to take some food, water being abundant and the tall trees protecting them from the hot sun. At night they encamped under a gigantic sycamore, the boughs of which would have shaded twice their number from the rays of the sun. Near it was a stream from which fresh water could be procured, and Sayd would gladly have halted here some days had not Sambroko advised that they should push on.

At daybreak they were again on the march. They had, however, to supply themselves with food, but so plentiful was the game that the hunters had not to go far out of their way to obtain it. Sambroko, who was their chief hunter, succeeded in killing a zebra, which afforded meat to the whole party, and the next day, whilst stalking at the head of the party, he brought down a magnificent giraffe, which he managed to surprise before the animal had taken alarm. It was of the greatest importance to reach a village, which Sambroko said must be passed before the news of the Arab raid could get there, and at length it came in sight, standing on a knoll surrounded by palisades, above which the roofs of the houses could be seen.

As they approached, Sambroko set up a cheerful song announcing that friends were drawing near and desired peace. The result was anxiously watched for. Should the gates remain closed, the caravan would have to pass by as far as possible from the village with the prospect of being attacked in the rear. Greatly to their satisfaction, however, Sambroko’s song produced a favourable effect, and the villagers came out shouting a welcome.

Sayd thought it wise, however, not to enter, but gave notice that he had brought goods with which to purchase ivory and provisions. An active barter was soon going forward. Eight tusks were procured and an ample supply of provisions. Sayd also obtained information from the natives that several villages were situated in the direction he wished to go, the inhabitants of which were likely to prove hostile. They offered to furnish guides who would conduct his party through the jungle to a distance from them. This offer he gladly accepted, confident that no treachery was intended. After a short rest the caravan again moved forward. The carriers marched in single file, the path not allowing two to walk abreast.

Sayd and Ned, accompanied by Hassan, led, Sambroko bringing up the rear, the other armed men being equally distributed in the line, while the two guides kept ahead. The party were soon buried in the depths of the forest. Perfect silence was preserved. Now they emerged into a more open country and pushed forward with rapid steps. As darkness was coming on, there was little risk of being seen from a distance. Led by their guides they continued through the early part of the night until another forest was reached, where they lay down to rest, no fires being lighted, no sounds being uttered. The guards kept a strict watch lest a lion might spring out on the slumbering party. Before dawn they were again on foot and moving forward as on the previous evening. For three days they thus advanced, until the guides assured them that they might continue to the eastward without fear of molestation until they reached the village of Kamwawi.

“You must be cautious how you approach it,” they observed; “the people are brave and warlike, and if they think you come as enemies they will be sore to attack you, but if they consider you are friends they will treat you with kindness and hospitality.”

“Kamwawi!” exclaimed Ned, when he heard the name; “that surely is the village to which Chando told us he belonged?”

“Yes, but there are others with similar names, so that we can never be certain,” answered Sayd. “I find that the one spoken of is four days’ journey from hence, and as we must camp to procure food it may be longer than that before we reach it.”