Tom was not so forgetful as not to provide me with food and a place to sleep in; so I contented myself with watching the rejoicings over the people who had been released from slavery. They were now, instead of being prisoners and expecting to be sent away for ever from their friends and country, free and happy; while those who had stolen them and their companions were now confined with logs on their legs and ropes round their necks, being jeered and hooted by all the children and women of the village.

After a time the chief, who Tom told me was called Karema, ordered his head-men, wives, drummers, and musicians to assemble. They formed in a semicircle round him, whilst the rest of the people drew away a little distance and left them alone in an open space. For some twenty minutes drums and horns had their own way; and though I could not discern much harmony in their notes, they seemed to give intense satisfaction to the hearers as well as to the performers.

All at once Karema held up his hand and the music ceased, and springing to his feet, he began an impassioned harangue, striding up and down and gesticulating wildly. Every now and again, as he paused, the drummers smote their drums fiercely, and the men with horns blew a long shrill note, while all the people cried out, “Eh-a-a-a-a-n! Karema! Eh-a-a-a-a-n!” in token of their approval of what he was saying.

At last Karema ceased, and sank back on his seat exhausted with his vehemence. Tom and the men who had formed the crew of our canoe then rushed forward, brandishing their arms, and went through a lively representation of a fight, in which they were soon joined by the warriors of Karema’s village. The antics of the men, their yells, and the noise of drums and horns, all combined to form a regular pandemonium; and I was astonished to see that my friend Tom, whom I had come to consider as partly civilized, was as wild in his antics and gestures as any of the other performers.

This went on for over an hour, and two or three times I was seized upon by the excited dancers and hurried round with them or carried on their shoulders, while Tom shouted out, “English bery good.” I was glad when this was over, and the men dropped off one by one as they became too tired to caper about any more.

Tom having apparently danced all his drink and excitement out of him, took me to Karema’s hut to have a conference together as to getting me out of the country.

Karema’s hut stood in the centre of a separate enclosure, around the sides of which were rows of smaller huts belonging to his wives. It was well built, with clay walls and a thatched roof. Inside I found some chairs of the familiar Windsor pattern, evidently regarded as most precious, on one of which I, as a white man and visitor, was given a seat. Karema himself lounged on a cane bed-place in one corner, smoking a water-pipe made out of a cocoa-nut shell with a piece of reed, and Tom squatted down on an elaborately carved native stool.

Tom spoke long and, I could see, earnestly. Karema, lying back on his couch, puffed steadily at his pipe, sending forth huge volumes of smoke, and occasionally, as Tom made an extra point, giving a grunt of approval or disapproval.

At length, when Tom had finished, Karema made an equally long-winded reply, which from Tom I made out to be to the following effect:—Karema was very proud that a white man had come to see him, as it would give him importance in the eyes of neighbouring chiefs; but he would not permit me to go beyond his country, for then his rivals would be able to boast they had also seen a white man, and he steadily refused to fall in with the proposals of Tom that I should be sent across the country to a big river where white men were said to trade, and which I supposed, as we were on the Ogowai, would be either the Gaboon or the Congo.

I asked him to again urge Karema to let me go on; for I did not want to stop for ever in Africa, but wished to get back to my own country and my own people.

Tom again spoke to Karema; but he refused to let me go beyond his country. He said that as long as I chose to stop with him he would look after me as if I were his own son, and that surely some day an English ship would visit the river, and then I would be able to get away without encountering the dangers inseparable from a long land journey in Africa.

On reflection this seemed to me the best thing that could be done. Perhaps my father might meet with a man-of-war and get her to come and punish Okopa for his attack on the Petrel, when I would at once be able to get away.

Tom said that was a good idea, and that though I could not live in his father’s village without danger of troubles with the Spaniards and Okopa, I should be perfectly safe with Karema, and I had better therefore accept his offer.

When Karema heard that we agreed to his proposals he gave a grunt of delight and approval, and said that next day he would, before all his people, exchange blood with me, and I would be accepted as one of his tribe. He also would give me a hut to live in, and wives and slaves to cultivate ground for me and to cook for me.

This question having been settled, Karema got up from his bed and led Tom and me to a small enclosure in the village just finished, in which was a new hut which had never been used, and the materials for building others. This he said should now be mine; and then, saying he would send food and drink to the hut in which I had passed the previous night, he retired to his own quarters.

When Tom and I were again alone in our hut all was quiet, the whole population of the village apparently being engaged in sleeping off the effects of the day’s rejoicings. Tom said, “All bery good, massa. One time English ship come you catch; now s’pose lib here very good.”

“That’s all right, Tom; but suppose no English ship comes, how then?”

“No good s’pose bad ting,” said Tom, who was rapidly remembering his English, and who now told me that he had been for a short time on board an English ship as a pledge for goods with which his father had been trusted, and had there learned to speak it “all proper.”

With much difficulty he also explained to me what the ceremony of exchanging blood would be; and when I said I did not want a black wife, he said, “How be dat? S’pose no wife lib, who make chop? who make fire, bring water—who do all ting for hut?”

“Yes, Tom; but a woman can do all that without being my wife. Your father has given me plenty of cloth and beads; cannot I give some to people to do those things for me?”

“No, massa; s’pose pay ebery time, bead soon go. Best take wife.”

“But, Tom, if I go back to my own country how shall I do with a black wife, and what can she do in England?”

“Oh, s’pose you no care take wife own country, gib her me. Me like plenty wife; dat be good—bery good have plenty wife.”

I tried in vain to explain to him my ideas on the subject of marriage; but at last he said, “S’pose you no want wife, me tell Karema dat be your fetich. No have wife, but plenty slave must have.”

I tried to make him understand also that Englishmen would have nothing to do with slaves; but that he resolutely refused to agree to. At last, as the lesser of two evils, I consented to become nominally the owner of such slaves as Karema might assign to me; and I made up my mind to see that when I left the country they were made actually free and well rewarded for any services which they might render me.

By the time this long discussion was over it was time for sleep. Tom leaving me to myself, I said my prayers, and throwing myself on a bed which was covered with skins and mats, I was soon dreaming of all sorts of things. Sometimes I thought myself again on board the Petrel; and sometimes I was in the clutches of Pentlea and Camacho.

I slept long and soundly. When Tom came in and woke me the sun was already high in the heavens, and everything was prepared for the ceremony of my exchanging blood with Karema.

I washed my face and hands in a calabash of water which Tom brought me; and coming out of the hut with him I found all the people of the village squatted round a clear space, in which a couple of stools had been placed for Karema and me to sit on during the ceremony. As soon as the villagers saw me they sent up a great shout, and made way for Tom to lead me to the stool, where I sat down, he standing by me to act as my sponsor.

As soon as we were in our places Karema came out of the enclosure where his huts were, accompanied by his wives and drummers. All his followers remained outside the circle, except one man, who was to promise for him; and a fetichman, who was to perform the operation of exchanging our blood. The body, face, and arms of the fetichman were painted white, and he wore round his neck and waist great quantities of birds’ skulls, antelopes’ horns, bones, shells, and other things in which great virtue was supposed to reside.

Karema sat down on the other stool facing me, and took hold of my right hand with his left and my left with his right. Tom and Karema’s sponsor stood each behind the one he was to answer for; and the fetichman, after drawing a circle round us, stood with his arms upraised and chanted a long monotonous song, to which the people, who were sitting round, occasionally joined in chorus.

When he had finished this, a woman came into the circle and placed a large covered gourd on the ground close by us, and then withdrew. The fetichman opened the gourd, and out of it he took two large buffalo horns and some grease, leaves, and earth, which he mixed up into a sort of paste; then putting some into each horn, he stuck them in the ground between Karema’s legs and mine.

He now took a goat’s horn, into which he put a lot of small pebbles, beads, and some carved bits of wood; then shaking them up together, he let them fall on the ground and eagerly scrutinized the forms in which they fell. This he repeated several times; and as Tom kept on saying, “Bery good, bery good,” I supposed that the auguries he drew from them were favourable to me.

He next took out of the gourd a square black gin bottle full of oil, which he poured over the heads of Karema and myself. Karema seemed to enjoy this; but as the oil was rancid and highly-flavoured, I cannot say that I found this anointing very agreeable.

Next he produced a small piece of a broken plate and a little packet of gunpowder, which he mixed into a paste with some oil; then turning back my shirt and laying bare my breast, with a very sharp knife he made a smart cut over my left breast and squeezed out a few drops of blood, which Tom caught in a leaf given him for the purpose.

Karema had to suffer a similar wound, and his sponsor caught his blood on another leaf. When this had been done, the fetichman made a long speech, which was repeated by Tom and his colleague. Tom afterwards translated it to me, and it proved to be a most elaborate series of curses on Karema and myself, and all our relations and friends, if we ever did any harm to each other, or if we, being in need or danger, did not at once hasten to each other’s assistance. Indeed we should have been as well cursed as the jackdaw of Rheims if in any way we either of us failed of our mutual duties; and as I am now well and hearty, I must have always fulfilled my share.

This having been completed, the two sponsors exchanged the leaves with the blood in them, and the fetichman putting his forefinger in the leaf containing my blood, rubbed it into the cut on Karema’s chest, and then rubbed his blood into mine. He next took some of the gunpowder and oil and rubbed it over the wounds. He then put the leaves and the remainder of the blood and gunpowder into the two buffalo horns.

As soon as this was done the people gave a mighty yell, and all who were possessed of drums, horns, bells, or other instruments of noise, made the most of their powers. The din lasted for about five minutes, and on a sign from the fetichman it ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.

I supposed that now the ceremony was over, but soon found I was mistaken, as two old and wrinkled women came into the circle, one of whom carried a cocoa-nut shell and a gourd of water, and the other a square bottle of gin. From the large gourd, which seemed inexhaustible, the fetichman now drew out some roots and pieces of bark, which he cut into several small pieces and put into the cocoa-nut. Then pouring a little water on them, he stirred it up vigorously with an antelope’s horn, and filling it up with gin handed it to Karema, who took a large draught and gave it back to the fetichman. He placed it in my hands and signed that I should follow Karema’s example. I took a moderate sip, and found that it tasted very bitter, the gin burning my throat and almost taking away my breath.

The shell was now passed to Tom and Karema’s sponsor, who each took a drink, and the fetichman then finished off the remainder. The two buffalo horns were now taken up from the ground and filled up with mud. The one that had been between my legs was given to Karema, and his was given to me. We were led to the entrance to our enclosures, where the horns were hung up in order to keep all evil spirits and wicked men from injuring us; then returning once more to the middle of the village, the fetichman proclaimed in a stentorian voice that Franki was brother of Karema. This he did four times, first facing north, then south, then east, and lastly west.

Each time as he called out the people shouted, “Eh-a-a-a-n, Eh-a-a-a-n! Franki Karema, Karema Franki!” and drums, bells, horns, and whistles were brought into requisition to increase the noise.

The ceremony was now finished, and I was one of the Adiana, as Karema’s people were called. From all in the village came presents, mostly small, such as a leaf of tobacco or an egg, a fowl or something of that sort; but from Karema came three women and three men carrying earthen pots, mats, hoes, stools, calabashes, and driving half-a-dozen goats. These people, as well as what they brought me, Tom told me, were now my property, and would have to cultivate my farm for me and do all the work that I required. One of the women, who was young and good-looking, he advised me to take for a wife.

I again told him that it was impossible, and at last he ceased to urge me to marry, saying, “Bery good. Me no sabey white man palaver; black man s’pose he get slave what be good he marry him one time.”

My new hut soon began to look habitable, and by Karema’s orders all the people of the village brought in poles and thatch and strips of bark to tie the frames together. Before evening huts were nearly finished to shelter my servants—for I would not call them slaves—and my live stock.

Next day these were finished, and with Karema I went out of the village and chose a piece of ground which was to be cultivated for me, and for which he gave me seed. Tom stopped this day with me, and advised me to make presents, out of the goods his father had supplied me with, to all the principal men among my new countrymen, not forgetting the fetichman who had performed the ceremony of exchanging blood between Karema and me. Next day he left to go back to Jack Sprat’s village, and after bidding me good-bye most warmly, he got into the canoe which had brought us up and paddled away down-stream.

As he left, a sense of great loneliness came over me, for though I and Karema were brothers, I could not exchange a word with him, and how long it would be necessary for me to remain where I was I did not know. However, I consoled myself by thinking that I might have been in a much worse plight, and set myself to make the best of my present situation.

I soon found that I was able to pick up sufficient of the native language to make myself understood. I found employment to fill up my days in looking after my servants and farm, in hunting and shooting, and in learning the use of spear and bow, and how to manage a canoe, in all of which I became very expert. I found that the natives, after their first superstitious reverence for a white man had worn off, began to treat me as if I was not so good as themselves. When, however, they saw that I could surpass them at their own callings; that I was always to the front in hunting the wild cattle which abounded in the neighbouring woods, or in the more exciting and dangerous pastime of spearing hippopotami from our canoes; that no man’s spear was hurled further or with truer aim; and that my arrows pierced deeper in the bodies of our prey than those of any of my companions—they looked upon me as one of their leading warriors, and openly spoke of me as the successor of Karema.

Among the whole tribe I could count only a few enemies, and these were a younger brother of Karema, named Dala—who before I came had expected to be his heir—and his special friends. I often tried to explain to Dala that it was impossible I should become the chief of the Adiana, as my intention was, as soon as ever I heard of the arrival of an English ship in the river, to make my way on board and return to my own country. Though Dala was forced to own the truth of what I said, he was so blinded with jealousy that he continued to try to do me harm. My plantations were often damaged, my fowls stolen, and my goats killed.

Karema loyally fulfilled all the obligations of brotherhood to me, and always made good my losses. The only actual annoyance they caused me was in proving that, notwithstanding anything I might do, Dala was my persistent enemy.

From time to time Tom came to visit me, but, alas! he never brought me news of the appearance of an English ship. Instead, he imparted the unpleasant intelligence that Pentlea and Camacho had made a large barracoon on the creek where the two schooners had been hidden, and that Okopa, having thrown in his lot with them, was daily becoming possessed of more muskets and ammunition. Okopa was now more hostile than ever to all the people on Hararu’s side of the river, having even dared to destroy one or two small villages and carry off their inhabitants, besides constantly kidnapping fishermen and women.

Seed-time and harvest, dry and rainy seasons, passed by. I had been nearly two years with the Adiana, and was thinking I must at all risks try to get away, and I had sought to get Karema to allow me to try to make my way towards the big river of which he had told me when I first came to his country, when a circumstance occurred which had an important influence on my future.