Kitabı oku: «Mou-Setsé: A Negro Hero; The Orphans' Pilgimage: A Story of Trust in God», sayfa 2
Story 1 – Chapter III.
What “The Right of Search” did for Mou-Setsé
No doubt, the children who read this story have heard of slaves; have heard how some little children are not free; how they are sold to any one who will give enough money for them; and that whether they have loving mothers and kind fathers who break their hearts at parting from them. The fathers are sold to one slave master, the mothers to another, the children to another. Often, very often, these children and fathers and mothers never meet again. In these days no slaves are allowed to be kept in any English territory, and even in America the slaves are at last set free. At the time, however, when Mou-Setsé was a little boy, there were numbers of slaves in America, and indeed in many other parts of the world. Mou-Setsé had heard of slaves – for what tiny African boy had not? – and now he knew that he himself was going to be a slave. When he saw the flames rising up in Eyeo, and his beloved home being burnt to ashes, he knew that this fate was before him. “Let us fly!” said his elder brother, whispering eagerly to him in his native tongue; but Mou-Setsé shook his head, for he knew he could not fly. All around was a terrible scene of confusion. Women, carrying children in their arms, were trying to escape from the burning huts; sometimes they were entangled in a prickly bush and thrown down, or they were caught by the cruel enemy and tied together in gangs, so that they could not escape. Mou-Setsé stood quite still, and his brothers and sister, when they saw he could not fly, stayed near him. Soon the bright-looking children attracted attention, and were taken – then immediately they were separated from each other.
Poor little Mou-Setsé, as he was carried away in a gang with many other captives, though he forced the tears back from his eyes, and fried, brave little fellow that he was, to keep up a brave heart, yet could not but cast some lingering glances back at the rocky hills where he and his brothers had often played so happily. He felt in his poor little heart that his play days were over, for how often had his mother told him that there was no play for slave children.
At last, after a long, long journey, little Mou-Setsé and a long gang of other slaves found themselves at a place called Quorra. Here the Portuguese met them, and here they were to be really sold. A trader came to examine Mou-Setsé, and finding him strong and healthy, quickly bought him. He was now to be sold again. The trader, seeing that he was a fine boy and handsome, took great pains with him. He gave him good food, and washed his polished black face, and brushed his woolly locks. He did this from no spirit of kindness, but simply from the desire to get a greater price for him. At last, when he had recovered from the fatigues of his journey, and looked fresh and bright, he brought him into the slave market. Here the traders who came to buy clustered round him and pulled off his clothes, and felt his limbs, and made him run, and leap, and throw his legs and arms about. No one cared whether he liked this treatment or not. He was treated in all respects like an animal without either soul or feeling. In about three hours he was bought by another trader and put, with many of his fellow slaves, into a canoe. They were sailing all that evening and all the next day. They passed through some very beautiful country, and Mou-Setsé might have enjoyed the lovely scenery had his heart been less full of wonder and pain. As it was, however, he could think of nothing but Eyeo and his home. Again and again he seemed to hear his beloved mother’s voice, or he fancied himself looking with pride and admiration at his brave warrior father. Though he loved his mother best, yet it was the remembrance of his father that brought most strength to his poor little heart now; for his father had said to him often in his native language that a brave boy never wept – tears were for women and girls, but not for boys, who hoped to be warriors by-and-bye. Remembering these words of his father’s, little Mou-Setsé pressed back the tears from his hot eyelids, and endeavoured to wear an indifferent face. He could not quite smile – his heart was too heavy for smiles – but no one saw the glistening of a tear on his dark cheek. Occupied with these bitter and sad thoughts, he could scarcely be expected to notice the beautiful scenery through which the river on which the canoe glided passed. His father, his mother, his brothers, his sister, he was torn from them all; he did not know what had become of them; he might never hope to see them again; he might never learn their fate; their suffering might be even greater than his own. Poor little boy! and he knew of no God to comfort him, and had never heard of any hope beyond this world.
At last the canoe reached a place called Ikho. Little Mou-Setsé was again sold, and this time was sent to the fold, or the spot where purchased slaves are kept till there is an opportunity to send them off in vessels to other countries.
Mou-Setsé found life in the fold very dreadful. He had a coarse rope put around his neck, the ends of which were fastened round the necks of other slaves, so that a long row of them were secured together, and one could not move without dragging all the others with him. The boys were thus roped together, and the men chained in fifties.
In this terrible place – treated with cruelty, cold, half-naked – Mou-Setsé spent two months.
But a greater evil was to come. This poor little African boy was to pass through a black and heavy cloud into God’s glorious light.
For let no one suppose that God had forgotten this little child whom He had made. Every hair of that little woolly head was numbered by God; every sigh he sighed, every groan he uttered, was heard and regarded by that great and good God, who loved him just as well with his black skin as He loved the fairest and most lovely English child.
But Mou-Setsé had a dreadful time before him, for God teaches His lessons in the storm as well as the sunshine.
This suffering was to take place on board the Portuguese slave-ship to which he was shortly removed. No one can understand who has not witnessed it the miseries of a slave vessel. The negroes are placed on their backs, or fixed in a sitting position, on ranges of shelves, one above the other, and in dark, close places, where hardly any air and no light are allowed to enter.
Here they are chained so close together that the space which each is allowed is scarcely so much as he would have in his coffin. Thus they lie for weeks and months, sometimes brought up on deck to jump about in their chains for exercise, exposed to sea-sickness, disease, and to the rubbing of the rough boards on their naked bodies. Many die, and those who live are, on landing, wretched objects. In the vessel in which Mou-Setsé was, the men were packed away below deck, but the women and children were allowed to remain above. Sad, sad were their hearts as they thought of their dear native country, and of those little children and fathers and mothers from whom they were severed. Their bodily sufferings were also very hard to bear… But God had not forgotten them. Belief was at hand.
At the time of which I speak, the English had put away slavery in their own countries, and they were very anxious to have it stopped everywhere. The other nations of Europe had agreed to check the slave trade so far as to allow to England what was called the right of search. That is to say, if an English ship saw another ship on the sea which was supposed to be a slaver, she might pursue it; and if slaves were found in it she might set them free. English vessels were kept cruising about the seas for this purpose. America, however, though calling herself a free country, had then in the Southern States upwards of two million suffering slaves, and she would not allow to England the right of search. Many slave-ships, therefore, falsely using the American flag, escaped uncaught.
The Portuguese brig on board of which little Mou-Setsé was had hoisted this flag; but there must have been something suspicious about her appearance, for one day an English man-of-war was seen bearing down upon her. When the captain and the traders saw this large vessel in full pursuit, they were in a great fright. They thought all their profits would be gone, for we may be quite sure they loved money very much, or they would never have taken to the slave trade. In their terror they told the poor slaves an untruth. They said that the people in the large ship wanted to eat them. All hands were set to work at the oars. Even little Mou-Setsé pulled with every inch of strength he possessed; for, though he was very unhappy, he did not want to be eaten. So eager and frightened were the poor slaves that ten men pulled at one oar. But all was of no avail.
Nearer and nearer came the great ship; and at last, after twenty-four hours of hard chase, she sailed up alongside the slaver, and all the negroes, were captured.
Little did Mou-Setsé know, as in terror he was taken on board the English ship, that his dark days – at least his very darkest days – were over; that from being a poor slave he was free.
But retribution was at hand for those cruel traders who were so indifferent to the fate of the suffering human creatures they had bought and made their own. God sometimes punishes very soon, and in a very awful manner. This was the case on board the vessel where Mou-Setsé had endured his worst sufferings.
Through some accident the vessel, an old one and badly built, took fire. How terrible it looked in the dark night! How fearful were the cries of the terrified sailors! Mou-Setsé and the other rescued slaves saw the flames from the English vessel. The captain and his crew also saw it and hastened back to the rescue, but too late. Before they could reach the spot the slave-ship had blown up and foundered, and those who happened still to be on board had perished.
