The Royal Jujus

: The Great White Queen

ON the fifth day after we had left our canoes the Grand Vizier of Mo had

gone far forward along the line of carriers to speak with the head-man,

and Omar was walking immediately before me at the rear of the

procession.



As I pulled him by the sleeve he halted, and when the last carrier had

got out of hearing I confided to my friend my misgivings.



"Have you not noticed of late a change in Koua a's manner towards us?" I

asked him. "At first he was deferential and submissive to your every

wish, but it occurs to me that of late his manner is overbearing, and he

watches us closely, as if fearing we might escape."



"Curiously enough," my friend replied, "I have for some days past had

similar thoughts. If he's playing any double game his life won't be worth

a moment's purchase when once we enter our own land."



"But you had perfect confidence in him," I observed.



"Yes. If my mother trusts him as her chief adviser I have no right to

entertain any suspicion of his fidelity," he said.



"True, but, after all, you are the Prince and heir. Surely he ought to

have followed your desire as to the route we should take."



"The route!" he cried. "Since we left the river we have travelled in

these cross-paths in such an amazing manner that at present I have no

idea where we are."



"The carriers have, or they would not be in such high spirits," I

observed.



"Yes, but the strangest part of the affair is that every man among them

fears to tell us anything. I have secretly questioned most of them as to

Kouaga's motive, and all I can glean is that the fetish-man at Tomboura

gathered them together and, after performing some of the usual rites and

sacrificing to our Crocodile-god Zomara, told them if a word were spoken

to us regarding our route or destination the dread god will meet us in

the forest path and devour all of us. Not one shall survive."



"And you believe this pagan humbug?" I exclaimed, in disgust.



He opened his dark eyes wide, regarding me in astonishment. I had never

before ridiculed his religion.



"The jujus around my neck preserve me from every evil, except those

worked by Zomara. He is the great god whose power only the fetish-man can

withstand. Slaves, princes, kings, all sacrifice to him. If we offend him

death or torture is inevitably our punishment."



"Do you think you've offended him?" I inquired.



"I know not," he sighed with a serious look. "If I have, then nothing can

save me; the fetish-man of Tomboura has worked evil against me."



"Well," I said, "this is my first experience of Africa, but it strikes me

very forcibly that these fetish-men of yours will do anything they are

paid to do. What was there to prevent Kouaga paying that hideous old

demon at Tomboura to utter his horrible incantations and so frighten our

carriers into silence?"



"Zomara is a terrible god. None dare tamper with him, or utter his name

in vain threats," Omar answered.



"Well, whoever he is I still stick to my opinion," I said. "Depend upon

it Kouaga is at the bottom of this conspiracy of silence."



Just at that moment the black face of that worthy, rendered darker by the

snow-white haick that surrounded it, appeared among the tangled bamboos.

He had missed us, and had come back to search. Yes, my surmise seemed

correct. He was watching us closely and trying to understand our

conversation.



That evening when we halted and the natives went into the bush to

collect fuel for the fire, I managed to take one or two of them aside and

secretly inquire our destination. But I got the same answer always.



"Zomara has tied our tongues. He commands us to be mute, or we shall be

destroyed to the last one."



To endeavour to learn anything from these simple-minded blacks seemed

useless. They would speak freely on every subject, indeed they seemed

fond of talking with one whose face was white, yet regarding our journey

they obeyed the command of the fetish-man to the very letter. It is the

same everywhere in West and Central Africa; the fetish-man rules. What he

says is more law than the word of kings. If he declares a man or woman

bewitched that person will assuredly be murdered before the sun sets; if

he orders the people of the village to perform a certain action they will

do it, even if death stares them in the face. They blindly believe that

the fetish is all-powerful, and that the half naked dancing savages who

administer it are endowed with supernatural powers.



That night, feeling tired out I threw myself down early near the camp

fire and slept soundly for several hours. But at length some unusual

sound awoke me, and when I opened my eyes I saw that the fire had died

down to one single flickering ember, which still blazing cast a fitful

light upon the boles of the forest giants around.



Scarcely had I opened my eyes when I became conscious of low whispering

in my vicinity. This thoroughly aroused me, and without stirring my body

I slowly turned my head, when to my astonishment I beheld Kouaga,

standing erect with arms folded beneath his white burnouse, talking in an

undertone to a dark-bearded stranger who also wore flowing Arab garments

and bore in his hand a long-barrelled flint-lock gun with

quaintly-inlaid stock. The man seemed older than the Grand Vizier of Mo,

for his beard was tinged with grey, and the brown hand that held the gun

was lean and bony.



I strained my ears to catch the drift of their earnest conversation, but

could not. It was tantalizing that they spoke in so low a tone, for the

stranger seemed to mumble into his beard, while Kouaga whispered with his

mouth turned from me. The presence of a stranger in our camp was, to say

the least, strange, for through those gloomy forest glades no single

traveller could journey. Omar had told me that for a person to attempt to

traverse that region alone would be merely suicide. My friend was

sleeping soundly at some distance from me, therefore I could not awaken

him without attracting attention. If only he would open his eyes, I

thought, he might recognize the new comer, either as friend or foe.



But no, he slept on as peacefully as if he were still in the cosy

dormitory at old Trigger's, with its blue and white counterpanes and

windows commanding a wide sweep of distant sea.



While I lay gazing upon my friend and hoping that he might open his eyes,

I suddenly heard the stranger raise his voice louder than before. It was

only for an instant, but in that moment upon my ear there fell three

words the English equivalents of which I understood.



They were "Seek the treasure!"



But I could distinguish nothing more, and in a few moments the two men

hurriedly snapped fingers, and the mysterious stranger disappeared

noiselessly into the dark silent bush.



When the loud blasts from the ivory-horn, with its hideous ornamentation

of human teeth, proclaimed the advent of another day I took Omar aside

and told him of what I had witnessed and overheard. After I had

described the stranger he said:



"I know not who he may be. It is evident, however, we are travelling in

the opposite direction to Mo, therefore we will go no further. I will

command Kouaga to return to Tomboura, cross the river, and press forward

over the hills of Dabagakha to the Black Volta."



"And if he refuses?"



"Then we will go alone."



An hour later, when we had eaten our plantains and the usual babel was

proceeding which was always precursory of a start being made, my

companion strode up to Kouaga with a look of fierce determination upon

his face, saying:



"Give ear to my words. I am Omar, son of the Naya, the Great White Queen,

before whose wrath all nations tremble."



"Speak. I listen," answered the giant negro, with a look of surprise upon

his ugly countenance.



"I will go no further along this path. You, the head-man and the carriers

shall return with me to the bank of the Comoe, otherwise my mother shall

punish you for disobeying my orders. All who dare go forward from this

moment shall be sacrificed at the yam feast and the dogs shall eat their

entrails. These are my words."



"Then whither would you go from Tomboura?" asked Kouaga, apparently

astonished at Omar's sudden decision.



"I will only approach Mo by the Great Salt Road."



"It is impossible. There is fighting in the hills, for the Karaboro and

the Dagari are at war."



"And what matters, pray, since they are both our allies?" Omar asked.



For a moment the negro was nonplussed, but with a broad grin showing his

even row of teeth, he said:



"The bird goes not into the serpent's lair, neither does the son of the

Queen enter the country of her enemies."



"I have already given tongue to my decision," my friend replied.

"Advance, and each of your heads shall fall beneath the keen doka of

Gankoma, the executioner."



Kouaga, hearing these words, set his teeth fiercely, and glancing at us

with his fiery eyes, the whites of which were bloodshot, retorted:



"Recede, and we will carry you forward, bound as a slave."



"This is a threat!" cried Omar, drawing himself up to his full height and

stretching forth his arm. "You, whom my mother raised from a

palace-slave, thus threaten me! Let it be thus, but I warn you that if

you ever set foot across the borders of Mo, your head shall be set upon

the palace wall as a warning to disobedient slaves." Then, turning to me,

and waving back the crowd of carriers who had collected and stood

open-mouthed around us, he said, "Come, Scars, we will return. I have

thrice traversed the path from Tomboura to the Great Salt Road, and can

follow it without a guide."



Then, calling down the curse of Zomara, the dreaded, upon them all, he

turned on his heel and walked down the narrow path we had traversed on

the previous night, while, with a final glance of triumph at the irate

negro, I followed.



Scarcely had we gone fifty yards, however, before a dozen carriers,

acting upon orders from Kouaga, had rushed after us, seized us, and

dragged us back to him despite our desperate struggles.



"So you defy me!" the negro cried in a paroxysm of rage, as Omar was

brought up. "This is because I was fool enough to allow your white-faced

friend to accompany you. Our country is no place for whites, but he will

make a good sacrifice to Zomara when our journey is ended. You have both

refused to accompany us, therefore we must use force." Then, turning to

the half-naked savages who held us, he said: "Bind them, and tie them in

their hammocks. Let not their bonds be loosened until our march be ended,

for both are my prisoners." And he laughed triumphantly at our

discomfiture.



"You shall pay for this insult with your life," Omar cried angrily.



"Take off his European clothes, and let his string of royal jujus be

burned. Henceforth he is a slave, as also is his white companion."



Next moment twenty ready hands tore from Omar most of his well-worn

clothes, and although he fought with all the strength of which he was

capable, his necklet of jujus, the magical charms that protected the

Queen's son from every evil, was ruthlessly spat upon and destroyed by

the excited natives, together with his clothes.



Then, after each of us had been tied in a hammock with our hands behind

our backs, we were lifted by four stalwart bearers and carried forward at

a brisk pace towards an unknown bourne.



It was evident that we were not going to Mo, and it was equally evident

too, that Kouaga, whom we had trusted implicitly, was our bitter enemy.