The People of the River | Page 2

Mr.
Franks--so the deputy Commissioner was named--was in every sense a
guest. Sanders checked the vitriolic appreciation of the native mind
which came readily to his lips, and inquired:
"When is this prec--when is this palaver?"
"This evening," said Franks.
Sanders shrugged his shoulders.
"Since you have gathered all these chiefs together," he said, "and they
are present in my Houssa lines, with their wives and servants, eating
my 'special expense' vote out of existence, you had better go through
with it."

That evening the chiefs assembled before the residency, squatting in a
semi-circle about the chair on which sat Mr. Franks--an enthusiastic
young man with a very pink face and gold-mounted spectacles.
Sanders sat a little behind and said nothing, scrutinising the assembly
with an unfriendly eye. He observed without emotion that Bosambo of
the Ochori occupied the place of honour in the centre, wearing a
leopard skin and loop after loop of glittering glass beads. He had
ostrich feathers in his hair and bangles of polished brass about his arms
and ankles and, chiefest abomination, suspended by a scarlet ribbon
from that portion of the skin which covered his left shoulder, hung a
large and elaborate decoration.
Beside him the kings and chiefs of other lands were mean,
commonplace men. B'fari of the Larger Isisi, Kulala of the N'Gombi,
Kandara of the Akasava, Etobi of the River-beyond-the-River, and a
score of little kings and overlords might have been so many carriers.
It was M'laka of the Lesser Isisi who opened the palaver.
"Lord Franki," he began, "we are great chiefs who are as dogs before
the brightness of your face, which is like the sun that sets through a
cloud."
Mr. Franks, to whom this was interpreted, coughed and went pinker
than ever.
"Now that you are our father," continued M'laka, "and that Sandi has
gone from us, though you have summoned him to this palaver to testify
to your greatness, the land has grown fruitful, sickness has departed,
and there is peace amongst us."
He avoided Sanders' cold eye whilst the speech was being translated.
"Now that Sandi has gone," M'laka went on with relish, "we are sorry,
for he was a good man according to some, though he had not the great
heart and the gentle spirit of our lord Franki."

This he said, and much more, especially with regard to the advisability
of calling together the chiefs and headmen that they might know of the
injustice of taxation, the hardship of life under certain heartless
lords--here he looked at Sanders--and need for restoring the old powers
of chiefs.
Other orations followed. It gave them great sorrow, they said, because
Sandi, their lord, was going to leave them. Sandi observed that the
blushing Mr. Franks was puzzled, and acquitted him of spreading the
report of his retirement.
Then Bosambo, sometime of Monrovia, and now chief of the Ochori,
from-the-border-of-the-river-to-the mountains-by-the-forest.
"Lord Franki," he said, "I feel shame that I must say what I have to say,
for you have been to me as a brother."
He said this much, and paused as one overcome by his feelings. Franks
was doubly affected, but Sanders watched the man suspiciously.
"But Sandi was our father and our mother," said Bosambo; "in his arms
he carried us across swift rivers, and with his beautiful body he
shielded us from our enemies; his eyes were bright for our goodness
and dim to our faults, and now that we must lose him my stomach is
full of misery, and I wish I were dead."
He hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side, and there were
tears in his eyes when he lifted them. David lamenting Jonathan was no
more woeful than Bosambo of Monrovia taking a mistaken farewell of
his master.
"Franki is good," he went on, mastering himself with visible effort; "his
face is very bright and pretty, and he is as innocent as a child; his heart
is pure, and he has no cunning."
Franks shifted uneasily in his seat as the compliment was translated.
"And when M'laka speaks to him with a tongue of oil," said Bosambo,

"lo! Franki believes him, though Sandi knows that M'laka is a liar and a
breaker of laws, who poisoned his brother in Sandi's absence and is
unpunished."
M'laka half rose from his seat and reached for his elephant sword.
"Down!" snarled Sanders; his hand went swiftly to his jacket pocket,
and M'laka cowered.
"And when Kulala of the N'Gombi raids into Ala-mandy territory
stealing girls, our lord is so gentle of spirit--"
"Liar and dog and eater of fish!"
The outraged Kulala was on his feet, his fat figure shaking with wrath.
But Sanders was up now, stiffly standing by his relief, and a gesture
sent insulter and insulted squatting to earth.