The Golden Pool : a Story of a Forgotten Mine
Copyright© 2024 by R. Austin Freeman
I Make My Appearance in a New Character
The sun was well up when I opened my eyes on the following morning and Aminé had evidently been awake some time, for she was standing with her chin on the edge of the rough parapet that enclosed the hollow, looking across the country and beguiling the time by slapping at the flies that settled on the bark.
“At last thou art awake!” she exclaimed, turning her head as I rose and stretched my cramped limbs. “I thought thou wast going to sleep all day. Let us go down and look for something to eat.”
My own sensations strongly seconded this suggestion, so I at once helped Aminé over on to the monkey-rope, and having passed the lashing round her and seen her safely to the bottom, I slid down myself.
The first necessity being the immediate satisfaction of our ravenous hunger, we took to the stream and eagerly searched the shallows for shell-fish, and I was filled with mingled envy and disgust at the indiscriminate way in which Aminé gobbled up every living thing that she encountered. Nothing came amiss to her. Water-snails, queer little round-bodied crabs, insect larvæ and fish spawn, all went into her mouth as soon as they were picked up, while I, more fastidious although famishing, restricted my diet to the rather scarce mussels. However, Aminé presently discovered in the forest, close to the water, a gourd-like fruit about the size of an orange, which she told me she had often eaten, and as it grew quite profusely in that spot, we were able to make a really substantial meal and a much more agreeable one than the uncooked shell-fish afforded.
The question now arose, what were we to do next, and whither should we direct our steps? We could not lurk for ever in the wilderness, and yet we hardly dared to enter any town or village.
“We certainly cannot go towards Sálaga,” said Aminé, “for there we should meet that old thief Salifu and a hundred others like him. The place is full of slave dealers.”
“Dost thou know anything of the road to the west?” I inquired.
“Not I,” she replied. “I know that somewhere in the west is Bontúku and, beyond that, Kong in the Wongára country, but how far away I cannot tell.”
“We had best walk towards the west,” I said, “for we shall at least lengthen our distance from Sálaga, and perhaps we may meet friends on the road.”
“It is more likely that we shall meet enemies,” she answered, “for anyone can see that we are runaway slaves, and if we go into any town, the first travelling merchant that we meet will claim us and say that we have escaped from him. Now if we only had a little decent clothing according to the fashion of our country, no one would notice or molest us, but we are as naked as a pair of black bush people.”
This was only too true.
Had we been clothed in the Fulah fashion we should have presented nothing unusual, whereas, although we had as much clothing as most of the negroes of the district, our fair skins, straight hair, and regular features were quite out of character with our condition, and marked us at once as fugitives. However, some move had to be made, and as we were certainly not encumbered by baggage, we crossed the stream forthwith and took our way along the track westward; and I was pleased to see that Aminé, without any suggestion from me, now carried her sandals slung round her neck by a wisp of creeper, to avoid leaving any more tell-tale impressions on the ground.
We wandered on at an easy pace, browsing as we went. Some of the trees had ripe fruit on them—little sloe-like plums, very bitter and astringent, which Aminé devoured freely—and we met with a number of dwarf date-palms bearing small, orange-coloured dates which we both ate although they were dry and insipid; and with these and various odds and ends of wild fruit that we picked up, we postponed, rather than satisfied, our hunger for several hours.
Towards afternoon the path along which we were travelling joined a broader track, the numerous footmarks on which showed it to be a well-frequented road. Near the junction a small hill stood a few yards from the road, and, before determining our direction, I climbed to the summit and surveyed the country. Half-a-mile away on some rising ground I could see a group of conical thatched roofs, and I was just considering whether it would be wise to venture on entering the village, when I perceived a small party of travellers advancing along the road. Before I had time to examine them they were lost to view among the trees, but I had been able, in spite of the distance, to make out that they were dressed like Mahommedans, and were not natives of the district.
I communicated my observation to Aminé, and we hastily consulted as to what course we should pursue.
“Let us hide till they have passed,” she urged. “If they are Moslem they may seize us and take us to Sálaga.”
“But we cannot always hide,” I objected. “Perhaps they may befriend us seeing that we are Moslem; and they are but few in any case.”
“What shall we say to them? Shall we tell them what has happened?”
I considered, and then there occurred to me a plan which, distasteful as it was, seemed the most judicious under the difficult circumstances.
“I will tell thee, Aminé,” I said, “what we shall do. Do thou go and wait by the roadside, and when the men come, bid them be silent, for thy master, who is a holy man, meditateth and may not be disturbed.”
“But thou art not a holy man,” objected Aminé. “Thou hast not prayed once since I met thee.”
“It is no matter,” said I, rather taken aback nevertheless; “do as I bid thee and they may perchance think that I have cast away my clothing as a mark of my humility and holiness.”
“They will think thee holy indeed to have cast away my garments as well as thine own,” exclaimed Aminé laughing. “But thou art not dirty enough,” she added gravely. “I remember a holy man who came to our town, who wore only one ragged cloth, but he was very dirty and had a filthy, tangled beard. My two sisters and I threw plantain skins at him, and my father beat us.”
“I will rub some dirt upon my skin,” said I, “if thou thinkest it necessary. And now go and wait by the roadside before they come.”
She went a little distance in the direction from which the party was approaching, and began to gather some of the scanty but tall grass-stalks with which to plait a mat, while I sat myself down crosslegged a few yards off the path, and waited for the strangers.
Presently they appeared round a curve in the road—three men, a woman and a boy—and as they approached I saw Aminé come out from among the trees and hold up a warning finger, saying something to them in a low tone, on which they stopped and apparently questioned her. I sat motionless as a graven image, and, as the strangers advanced slowly along the path, I stared unwinkingly into vacancy as one who sees a vision, and totally ignored their presence.
For their part, they halted in a row opposite me and gazed at me with frank curiosity as though I were a museum specimen.
This was all very well for a minute or so, but when they all set down their burdens on the ground that they might observe me at greater ease, I felt that my position was becoming untenable. I could not maintain that wooden stare for an indefinite time, in fact, the corners of my mouth were inclined to twitch already; and as it would be fatal to laugh, it was necessary to talk: wherefore I opened my mouth and spake, as though pursuing some profound reflection.
“Moreover,” I commenced, by way of encouraging myself, “have not all things their appointed places from which they depart not? Does the river leave its bed and stray up the mountain? Does the moon outpace the sun and the night tread upon the heels of day? Surely it is not so. For if the night should struggle against the day and the stars strive with the sun, then would the earth be confounded and the infidel rejoice in the pride of his heart.”
I paused to observe the effect of my performance. The men looked at one another in blank amazement, and one asked in tones of awe:
“Dost thou understand this, Isaaku?”
“Not I,” replied the other. “I am no scholar, and his words are weighty and deep; but it is profitable to listen to the sayings of the wise.”
“It seemeth to me,” broke in the boy—an urchin of about ten—”that this yellow-skinned fellow talketh like an old woman that hath drunk too much pittu,” whereupon one of the men dealt him a hearty cuff on the head, and he hastily retreated behind his mother, from which stronghold he silently defied me by gestures and horrid grimaces.
Seeing that my audience was eager for further samples of my wisdom, I took up the thread of my reflections.
“And if these things be so; if the hippopotamus may not soar aloft with the hawk, nor the tortoise perch upon the branch and carol to his mate; so is it also with man. The housewife shall not sit in the mosque nor the mallam fetch water from the well.
“These things are known unto the wise, but the foolish regard them not, considering only the labour of the day or the profit of the market. For the foolish pile up merchandise and kurdi and gold and cattle that they may grow fat with much eating; but the wise man hearkeneth unto the words of the Prophet and giveth alms of that which is given to him, shareth his plenty with the needy, and giveth shelter and raiment unto those that are houseless and naked.”
If the first part of my discourse was rather out of the depth of my hearers, the conclusion enabled them, in nautical phrase, to “strike soundings,” which they did with a readiness that did them credit.
The eldest man of the party beckoned to Aminé, who had been standing at a little distance listening, round-eyed and open-mouthed.
“Whither does thy master journey?” he asked.
“We journey to Bontúku,” she replied, with admirable presence of mind.
“We go towards Bori,” said the man, “so for the next two days we travel the same road; and if it please thy master to walk with us we will gladly share our provisions with him.”
“I will ask him,” said Aminé; and stepping over to me she put her mouth to my ear and gave a shout that nearly stunned me, by way of arousing me from my reverie.
I staggered to my feet in quite unfeigned confusion.
“This good man,” said she calmly, “asketh if thou wilt walk with his party and rest by his fire until our ways part.”
I regarded the man with assumed surprise, as if I had not noticed him before, and then said:
“The companionship of a believer is good when one journeys through the land of the heathen. I thank thee for thy courtesy and will very gladly walk in thy company.”
The man—whose name appeared to be Isaaku—seemed highly gratified, and assured me that all that he possessed was at my service, and, when I had again thanked him, he and his party took up their burdens and resumed their journey, Aminé and I following.
We tramped on for a couple of hours through the shadeless, monotonous orchard country, until we arrived at a small hamlet which was built in the narrow strip of woodland that fringed a small stream. Here, to my unspeakable joy, Isaaku announced his intention of staying for the night, having been on the road since daybreak; and as his people piled the loads under the village shade-tree, he entered into lengthy negotiations with the headman (or village chief) with a view to obtaining the necessary accommodation for the night and permission to light a fire.
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