An adult slave has been seized near me and torn from the fork that held him by the neck. The fork was broken.
What a cry of despair!
What a howl of grief!
I hear it still!
May 7th and 8th.—The next day they count the victims.
Twenty slaves have disappeared.
At daybreak I look for Tom and his companions.
God be praised! they are living.
Alas! ought I to praise God?
Is one not happier to be done with all this misery!
Tom is at the head of the convoy.
At a moment when his son Bat made a turn, the fork was presented obliquely, and Tom was able to see me.
I search in vain for old Nan. Is she in the central group? or has she perished during that frightful night?
The next day, passed the limit of the inundated plain, after twenty-four hours in the water.
We halt on a hill.
The sun dries us a little.
We eat, but what miserable food!
A little tapioca, a few handfuls of maize.
Nothing but the troubled water to drink.
Prisoners extended on the ground—how many will not get up!
No! it is not possible that Mrs. Weldon and her son have passed through so much misery!
God would be so gracious to them as to have them led to Kazounde by another road.
The unhappy mother could not resist.
New case of small-pox in the caravan; the "ndoue," as they say.
The sick could not be able to go far.
Will they abandon them?
May 9th.—They have begun the march again at sunrise.
No laggards.
The overseer's whip has quickly raised those overcome by fatigue or sickness.
Those slaves have a value; they are money.
The agents will not leave them behind while they have strength enough to march.
I am surrounded by living skeletons.
They have no longer voice enough to complain.
I have seen old Nan at last.
She is a sad sight.
The child she was carrying is no longer in her arms.
She is alone, too.
That will be less painful for her; but the chain is still around her waist, and she has been obliged to throw the end over her shoulder.
By hastening, I have been able to draw near her.
One would say that she did not recognize me.
Am I, then, changed to that extent?
"Nan," I said.
The old servant looked at me a long time, and then she exclaimed:
"You, Mr. Dick!
I—I—before long I shall be dead!"
"No, no!
Courage!" I replied, while my eyes fell so as not to see what was only the unfortunate woman's bloodless specter.
"Dead!" she continued; "and I shall not see my dear mistress again, nor my little Jack.
My God! my God! have pity on me!"
I wished to support old Nan, whose whole body trembled under her torn clothing.