The Twelve African Novels (A Collection). Edgar Wallace

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      Elebi had many friends in the N’Gombi country. They were gathered in the village of Tambango — to the infinite embarrassment of the chief of that village — for Elebi’s friends laid hands upon whatsoever they desired, being strangers and well armed, and, moreover, outnumbering the men of the village three to one. One, O’Sako, did the chief hold in greatest dread, for he said little, but stalked tragically through the untidy street of Tambango, a bright, curved execution knife in the crook of his left arm. O’Sako was tall and handsome. One broad shoulder gleamed in its nakedness, and his muscular arms were devoid of ornamentation. His thick hair was plastered with clay till it was like a European woman’s, and his body was smeared with ingola dust.

      Once only he condescended to address his host.

      “You shall find me three young men against the Lord Elebi’s arrival, and they shall lead us to the land of the Secret River.”

      “But, master,” pleaded the chief, “no man may go to the Secret River, because of the devils.”

      “Three men,” said O’Sako softly, “three young men swift of foot, with eyes like the N’Gombi, and mouths silent as the dead.”

      “ — the devils,” repeated the chief weakly, but O’Sako stared straight ahead and strode on.

      When the sun blazed furiously on the rim of the world in a last expiring effort, and the broad river was a flood of fire, and long shadows ran through the clearings, Elebi came to the village. He came unattended from the south, and he brought with him no evidence of his temporary sojourn in the camps of civilization. Save for his loin cloth, and his robe of panther skin thrown about his shoulders, he was naked.

      There was a palaver house at the end of the village, a thatched little wattle hut perched on a tiny hill, and the Lord Elebi gathered there his captains and the chief of the village. He made a speech.

      “Caa, caa,” he began — and it means “long ago,” and is a famous opening to speeches— “before the white man came, and when the Arabi came down from the northern countries to steal women and ivory, the people of the Secret River buried their ‘points’ in a Place of Devils. Their women they could not bury, so they lost them. Now all the people of the Secret River are dead. The Arabi killed some, Bula Matadi killed others, but the sickness killed most of all. Where their villages were the high grass has grown, and in their gardens only the weaver bird speaks. Yet I know of this place, for there came to me a vision and a voice that said—” The rest of the speech from the European standpoint was pure blasphemy, because Elebi had had the training of a lay preacher, and had an easy delivery.

      When he had finished, the chief of the village of Tambango spoke. It was a serious discourse on devils. There was no doubt at all that in the forest where the cache was there was a veritable stronghold of devildom. Some had bad faces and were as tall as the gum-trees — taller, for they used whole trees for clubs; some were small, so small that they travelled on the wings of bees, but all were very potent, very terrible, and most effective guardians of buried treasure. Their greatest accomplishment lay in leading astray the traveller; men went into the forest in search of game or copal or rubber, and never came back, because there were a thousand ways in and no way out.

      Elebi listened gravely.

      “Devils of course there are,” he said, “including the Devil, the Old One, who is the enemy of God. I have had much to do with the casting out of devils — in my holy capacity as a servant of the Word. Of the lesser devils I know nothing, though I do not doubt they live. Therefore I think it would be better for all if we offered prayer.” On his instruction the party knelt in full view of the village, and Elebi prayed conventionally but with great earnestness that the Powers of Darkness should not prevail, but that the Great Work should go on triumphantly.

      After which, to make doubly sure, the party sacrificed two fowls before a squat bete that stood before the chief’s door, and a crazy witchdoctor anointed Elebi with human fat.

      “We will go by way of Ochori,” said Elebi, who was something of a strategist. “These Ochori folk will give us food and guides, being a cowardly folk and very fearful.” He took farewell of the old chief and continued his journey, with O’Sako and his warriors behind him. So two days passed. An hour’s distance from the city of the Ochori he called a conference.

      “Knowing the world,” he said, “I am acquainted with the Ochori, who are slaves; you shall behold their chief embrace my feet. Since it is fitting that one, such as I, who know the ways of white men and their magic, should be received with honour, let us send forward a messenger to say that the Lord Elebi comes, and bid them kill so many goats against our coming.”

      “That is good talk,” said O’Sako, his lieutenant, and a messenger was despatched.

      Elebi with his caravan followed slowly.

      It is said that Elebi’s message came to Bosambo of Monrovia, chief of the Ochori, when he was in the despondent mood peculiar to men of action who find life running too smoothly.

      It was Bosambo’s practice — and one of which his people stood in some awe — to reflect aloud in English in all moments of crisis, or on any occasion when it was undesirable that his thoughts should be conveyed abroad.

      He listened in silence, sitting before the door of his hut and smoking a short wooden pipe, whilst the messenger described the quality of the coming visitor, and the unparalleled honour which was to fall upon the Ochori.

      Said Bosambo at the conclusion of the recital, “Damn nigger.” The messenger was puzzled by the strange tongue.

      “Lord Chief,” he said, “my master is a great one, knowing the ways of white men.”

      “I also know something of white men,” said Bosambo calmly, in the River dialect, “having many friends, including Sandi, who married my brother’s wife’s sister, and is related to me. Also,” said Bosambo daringly, “I have shaken hands with the Great White King who dwells beyond the big water, and he has given me many presents.” With this story the messenger went back to the slowly advancing caravan, and Elebi was impressed and a little bewildered.

      “It is strange,” he said, “no man has ever known an Ochori chief who was aught but a dog and the son of a dog — let us see this Bosambo. Did you tell him to come out and meet me?”

      “No,” replied the messenger frankly, “he was such a great one, and was so haughty because of Sandi, who married his brother’s wife’s sister; and so proud that I did not dare tell him.”

      There is a spot on the edge of the Ochori city where at one time Sanders had caused to be erected a warning sign, and here Elebi found the chief waiting and was flattered. There was a long and earnest conference in the little palaver house of the city, and here Elebi told as much of his story as was necessary, and Bosambo believed as much as he could.

      “And what do you need of me and my people?” asked Bosambo at length.

      “Lord chief,” said Elebi, “I go a long journey, being fortified with the blessed spirit of which you know nothing, that being an especial mystery of the white men.”

      “There is no mystery which I did not know,” said Bosambo loftily, “and if you speak of spirits, I will speak of certain saints, also of a Virgin who is held in high respect by white men.”

      “If you speak of the blessed Paul—” began Elebi, a little at sea.

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