12 dozen plates.
• 6 dozen glasses.
• 300 pounds of beads, of different colors and sizes.
• 50 pine chests.
• 200 pairs of ear-rings for his wives.
• Several chests containing trinkets, mirrors, files, forks, knives, etc.
• A chest filled with nice presents sent to him by some of my friends.
The chests were his delight, for the wealth of a king here is composed chiefly of chests, which, of course, are supposed to be filled with goods.
King Quengueza never thought that his friend Chally would have remembered him so profitably.
After showing him all these things, I made him a speech, and said, in a low tone, "Quengueza, Chally has a heart (ore'ma); he has a heart that loves you. When he left you the last time he was poor, and had nothing to give you, but you loved him the same as if he had possessed a thousand chests filled with goods. Now he is rich, and has just come back from the white man's country, and he brings you all these fine presents, for Chally loves you;" and when I said "loves you" I looked at him steadily in the face. The sight of all this wealth had almost dumbfounded the old man, and for a while he could not speak. Finally he said,
"Do you love me, Chally? If you do, do not tell the people what you have given me, or they will bewitch me to have my property."
The fear of witchcraft was a great defect in the character of poor Quengueza. He was always in dread of being bewitched, and consequently of dying.
Then he knelt down and clasped my feet with his hands, and, with his face distorted by fear, begged me again not to tell any body in the country what I had given him. This taking hold of a man's feet is the most imploring way of asking a favor; it was the first time in his life that Quengueza, the great chief of the Abouya clan, had done such a thing. I promised him, of course, never to tell any thing to his people.
After a while he went away, and his subjects crowded round him, expecting fully to hear what fine things his friend Chally had brought him, when I heard him shout, with the loudest voice he could summon,
"My friend Chally knows nothing but talk, and has brought me nothing." Coming toward me, he repeated the statement just as loudly, and looked at me at the same time with an imploring sort of a look, as if to say, "Do not say any thing." But Quengueza's people knew me better; they knew very well that Chally, the great friend of Quengueza, would not come back from the white man's country without bringing him something, and they were smiling all the while, for they were well acquainted with the ways of their beloved old chief, who was a miser, and never wanted his people to know what he possessed. I kept his presents till his departure.
I gave presents also to good old Ranpano, to the chiefs that had come to see me, to their wives, and to my old friends, and then the people returned to their different villages. Quengueza's people were busy every day collecting the long bamboo-like branches of palm-trees for my new settlement, which they were to build for me.
Before the departure of the chiefs, I assembled them, and we held a grand palaver, at which they agreed that the Mentor should not leave their country until they had laden her with their products – woods, India-rubber, ivory, wax, etc.
The night Quengueza took leave his confidential slaves were busy taking his presents from my hut to the large canoes they had with them, which having been safely accomplished, they departed before daylight. Quengueza threatened with death any one of his men who should say a word of what had passed.
Then, for the first time since my arrival, it looked as if I was going to have a quiet time. I was glad of it, for I had been ill with fever, and wanted rest and quiet in order to get well. Old Ranpano would stay for hours by my bedside, hardly ever uttering a word, but I could see by his face that the old man felt anxiety on my account. He would say sometimes, "Chally, Chally, you must not be ill; none of my people want to see you ill. I love you; we all love you;" and when he went away he muttered words which no doubt were invocations to spirits, for Ranpano, like the rest of his people, was very superstitious.
The superstition of the natives being so great about the site of my old settlement of Washington, I found it was impossible to build there again. Not far from it there was a nice spot, just on the bank of the river, which I liked very much; but at that spot there was a little Commi village, whose chief was called Rabolo. The only thing to be done was to buy Rabolo out, and I succeeded in purchasing the whole village for several guns, some kegs of powder, a brass kettle, a few brass rings and iron bars, and two or three pieces of cloth. I allowed the people to take the houses away with them, and I set to work immediately to build my new settlement.
Quengueza's people went at it vigorously, and, with the help of Ranpano's people, we began building in earnest, Captain Vardon, myself, and a negro being the carpenters. The doors and windows we made with the bottoms of large canoes.
The smaller buildings were soon finished, and the people were hard at work on my large dwelling-house; but when we came to the veranda, and the posts had to be put in the ground, my men were suddenly seized with fear.
There was in the ground a formidable monda, or fetich, which my friend Rabolo had buried in his village before I purchased it, and which happened to be exactly upon the site of my house, and almost in front of my door.
Poor Rabolo had never dreamed that I would build my house just on that very spot.
Rabolo was not in town, and the builders did not dare to remove the monda, declaring that there would be a great palaver if they touched Rabolo's monda; "for," said they, "Rabolo's monda, which he has put in the ground, is a very good one; for, since his village has been established, twelve dry and twelve rainy seasons ago, no one has died there." This was no great monda after all, for Rabolo's village was only composed of his family, and there were fifteen inhabitants in all, not including the dogs, goats, fowls, and parrots.
Rabolo was sent for. He was loth to agree to have the monda removed; "for," said he, "not one of us has died since I made it. You can not take it." "Then," said I, "Rabolo, give me back the goods I have given you; I must go somewhere else." But poor Rabolo had given away the goods – had bought two more wives – and could not give me back my money. I knew it, and was firm. I insisted that the whole place belonged to me; that I bought it, above the ground and under the ground, to the very water's edge. So at last Rabolo, with a sad face, consented to have the monda removed.
To enter Rabolo's settlement you had to go under a portal, which was made of two upright poles and a crossbar. Round the poles grew a talismanic creeper, which had been planted immediately after the queer gate had been erected; but at the erection of the gate there were great ceremonies, for Rabolo's powerful monda was to be buried in the ground, and that monda was to protect the village, and Rabolo and his family, from aniemba (witchcraft) and death; so I did not wonder that it was with a frightened face poor Rabolo allowed me to take away what he considered the protector of himself and family.
Rabolo was a quiet man – a good man; not a bloodthirsty savage. His little village lived at peace with all the Commi villages around him.
Rabolo asked to be allowed to take the monda away himself. This I granted. Then he began to cut the bushes and the creeper, which was of the same kind that grew on the gate, that in the course of time had grown over his talisman, and, digging a hole in the ground, soon came to the spot where the wonderful monda lay. The first thing he turned up was the skull of a chimpanzee; then came the skull of a man, probably of one of the ancestors of Rabolo. The people were looking in silence at the scene before them; they seemed to think that Rabolo was doing a wonderful thing, and some thought that he
