HELL S

PLAYGROUND

IDA VERA SIMONTON

UBRARY
UNIVERSITY OF
CALIFORNIA
SAN DIEGO
p<

X X
HELL S PLAYGROUND
HELL S PLAYGROUND

BY

IDA VERA SIMONTON

NEW YORK
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
1912
 Copyright, 1912, by
MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
NEW YORK

All rights reserved

 To the Memory of a Perfect Mother,
this, my first book is dedicated
would it were more worthy!
I. V. S.

New York, July, 1913

 IN EXPLANATION

HELL S PLAYGROUND written not for the idly

is

curious, the thrill-hunters, the gourmets of sensationalism,

but for the thoughtful, the students of history and psychol
ogy, the dissectors of life, the truth-seekers.
The story has to do with primal conditions: savages and
savagery. It lacks the niceties and embroideries and per
fumes of civilization; it is crude and shocking, essentially
so. It a record of the debauching life of the African
is

tropics; the methods of government; the duties and oppor

tunities of the white trader; the nature of the negro sav

ages; the almost hopeless problems of colonization and

Christianization ; and the demoralization which follows the
unnatural imposition of the rule of one race over another.
For centuries the West Coast of Africa has been the
dumping ground for Europe s undesirables and so un
healthy is the climate that life is one continuous battle for
existence. The best class of white men are not attracted
to it. The average white
trader and government official,
freed from all restraint, deprived of the society of white
women and the commonest things to which civilization has
accustomed them, breathing the atmosphere of sameness,
stagnation and sensuality, early shed the veneer of civiliza
tion. They revel in tyranny, licentiousness and brutality;
they are a law unto themselves a law of menace and destruc
:

tion; they out-savage the very savage.

To some readers the author s treatment of missions and
missionaries may seem harsh, but she has only penned con
ditions as she found them. She lived among missionaries
of denominations, including the Mohammedans and the
all

Copts. No one knows better than she how noble and heroic
are these laborers in savage Africa s unproductive vineyard.

They have preached and prayed, taught and encouraged

under the most unhealthy and depressing and discouraging
conditions; they have pressed on and ever on where even
greed for wealth and territory has turned back discouraged ;

and many of them have laid down their very lives for their

savage charges for the death toll has been, is, and ever

will be, a heavy one. The author also knows that the little
transient good effected by the white missionaries in no way

compensates for their sufferings, deprivations and deaths !

Such noble men and women are needed nearer home, where
the bulb of Christianity is indigenous and needs only care
and attention to cause it to flower bountifully.
A
Polar bear has as much need of a sealskin sack to
keep him warm as has an African savage of the raiment
made him by well-meaning, God-serving and God
for

fearing white women. Neither does the savage need houses

to shelter him nor cultivated products to nourish him.
Lavish nature and torrid heat have made him an improvi
dent animal, sensual and lazy. He is what he is from the
very beginning of time. His native superstitions, beliefs,
abominable practices and nudity are as much a part of him
as are his peculiar odor, his black skin and his kinky hair.

They are there to stay, and the negro savage is best let
alone. In the bush the realities are respected; at the
mission a farce innocently played: a farce so far as any
is

lasting benefit to the savage accrues, but a tragedy where

the health and lives of their white teachers are concerned.
The English, the greatest colonizers in the world, have
demonstrated in their African possessions that to respect
 IN EXPLANATION
native superstitions and customs is the only way to effect
the bound
ively control the natives and secure from them
lesswealth of their great country. The so-called civilized,
Christianized savage is as subtle as a Brahmin and as
much to be feared. The attempt to live on brotherly terms
with the negro is demoralizing to the negro. Highly imi
tative, he takes on all the vices of the white man and none
of his virtues. He returns to his bush town and he dis
seminates the bad, never the good. There are some lovable
traits in the true bush negro, but none at all in the so-called

civilized creature.

Unhealthy and demoralizing as the West Coast of Africa

is, from the time of the Carthaginians and Phoenicians, 500

B. C., it has been eagerly frequented by traders in search

of slaves and wealth. In the latter part of the 14th Cen
tury, the Portuguese discovered the Congo, one of the great
rivers of the world. They rounded Good Hope and set
tled Natal on the southeast coast. In the 18th Century,
England alone took 3,000,000 slaves from these West
Coast ports, and many of them were brought to America.
They are the forebears of our southern negroes. In addi
tion to the above number of slaves, 2,500,000 more were
lost either in the treacherous surf, which girds Africa like a

wall, or died from exposure and disease. Liberia is also on

this coast and so is the French Congo, wherein Paul du
Chaillu discovered that wonderful anthropoid, the gorilla.
Quite recently, Livingstone and Stanley sailed this West
Coast, and just a little over one year ago, for the first time
in the history of American commerce, a trading ship sailed
direct from New York to secure some of its trade for which

Europeans have fought for centuries. The flag followed

the trader out there and the unhealthy traffic in human
flesh was succeeded by the quest for the commodities neces

sary to civilization in which the Dark Continent abounds.

 IN EXPLANATION
After all, we Americans have somelink with HELL S

PLAYGROUND, and, revolting and repellent though its

life may be, to researchers and students that which w is

ever interesting and instructing.

IDA VERA SIMONTON.
New York City, August, 1912.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
CHAPTER I

OFF the west coast of Africa a terrific tornado raged.

Forked lightning rent night s Stygian veil, and, with un
canny brilliancy, uncovered yawning, heaving depths
beneath and angry heavens above; rain descended in
straight, destructive streams like shrapnel from an ex-
haustless reservoir; a fog siren moaned like a lost soul,

and, now and then as though escaping from Pluto s

realm, came the timid, ghost-like tinkle of a half -sub
merged bell.

In treacherous seas the Nigeria tossed with her engines

slowed down; waves like huge batteries hammered her
bow, drenched her deserted decks and threatened to pound
her to pieces malignant, warring winds shrieked through
;

her rigging; furled canvases tugged at fastenings; oil

bags were wrenched from bow and sides and hurled vin
dictively through turbulent space. Aloft, the lookout
clung for his life, his eyes, keen as gimlets, attempting
to bore night s opaque wall ; lashed to his scanty foothold
and drenched by furious seas the quartermaster cast the
lead and in deep-throated tones sang out the soundings.
From the bridge, through the growling of thunder, the
shrieking of winds and the bombardment of rain and seas,
came the skipper s commands in sharp, crisp sentences.
1
2 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Hurried feet crossed slippery decks nimble figures ;

climbed swaying ladders lives were risked without fear

;

or hesitation. Every man of the crew was at work or

else stood by for orders.The fight was an unequal one:
untrammeled Nature against man s confined resources.
With the grip of a Titan and jaws hard set, the man
at the wheel forced the Nigeria s prow into the very teeth
of the tornado and battled to hold her course.
Winds,
seas and rain attacked at the same time and from all
directions, causing the steamer to groan from stem to
stern as, with timbers and
bolts a-quiver, she plunged
into abysmal depths until the ocean s very bed seemed
reached, then, like some huge leviathan, she shook her
sides, and up, UP, UP she crawled to mountainous
heights, only to be repulsed again and again by the fury
of rampant Nature !

Below, ports and doors were closed and securely fas

tened. Not a soul slept. Along a narrow alleyway, a
dark-robed priest stumbled back and forth, his long fin

gers caressing his beads, his pale lips tightly compressed.

In such moments appeals are mute.
In a stuffy, inside cabin, the body of a young nun,
and the only woman aboard, rolled to and fro in tempo
with the ship s mad plunging. Of all those on that
storm-tossed, floating world, she alone was at rest death ;

had mercifully silenced mortal terror and eased physical

pain.
But different was the scene in room
the smoking :

neither quiet nor repose was there. Smoke from burn

ing tobaccos of many kinds, odors from spirits, fresh
and stale the distinctive smells of human beings packed
;

into small, ill-ventilated space added distressingly to an

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 3

already surcharged and depressed atmosphere and each ;

man, according to his nature, did his best to appear in

different to Nature s tirade. In groups they were, none
sat alone none had that courage, for in proximity there
;

is comfort. Glass after glass of scorching liquors were

drained for the false courage therein other men denied ;

themselves lest shaking fingers attest their nervousness ;

others attempted games of chance, despite scattering

chips and falling cards ; still others lied viciously of

dangers braved and lived through ; each and every man
groped for courage in self-deception.
Old coasters sat deep in their chairs, their feet far
apart and planted firmly on the floor. Toying with
pegs of brandy and soda, they pretended to revel in the

night s horrors and added to them by their loud-mouthed

conversation, which, with ghoulish glee, was fashioned to
torture the first-time-out men.
Twas in just such a storm as this that the Helene
"

Woermann went down," said Longworthy, nonchalantly.

"

Men were drowned like rats in a flooded gutter not

a soul left to
She floundered at night," cut in Haywood,
"

but "

how about that French steamer that only two months

ago went down right off here in broad daylight and on
as fine a day as you d want to
"

see?
"

That s so," drawled old Wallace. "

It don t mat
ter whether it s
night or day, ships just have to go down
they can t help themselves every mile of this bally
-

west coast s marked with wrecks and I wouldn t be sur

prised we went down any minute."
if

There was silence among the tcnderfeet ;

a silence of
fear, of curiosity to know the worst.
4 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

Gimme my opined Boynton, and it s quick

choice,"
"

slide down the neck of a shark rather than a shallow hole

in the infernal bush where beastly vultures ll
dig me out
and make merry over me carcass."

"

Me too," cried Haywood and Longworthy in

chorus.

Speaking of vultures reminds me of Jimsy

"

Craig,"

recalled Wallace. preferred the rusty-razor route

"

He
to a slow cash-in with vultures setting outside waiting for
his carcass but the vultures got him anyway. Poor
"

Jimsy !

Steward
"

Brandy, neat ! !
"

It was Cartwright, a tenderfoot, who spoke. His voice

was thin, painfully so.
Brandy reminds me of remarked Long-
"

LaRue,"

worthy, lightly as though he were recalling a pleasant

event.
"

He swore he d never die sober. He kept his

oath. Tornado like this. Lightning like flames from
hell. One took a fancy to rum-soaked LaRue. Quick
combustion. Finish !
"

Yes, and twas on just such a night as

"

this, with
all hell let
began old Wallace in his slow, irrita
loose,"

ting drawl, when Kingsf ord interrupted :

Shut up, damn you, shut up

"

Ever since Liver !

pool you ve done nothing but dig up moth-eaten horrors

fit
only for retailing in hell We grant you the climate s !

notoriously bad, the natives ain t hail-fellows-well-met;

and because we re alive at sundown s no reason we ll

see sunrise, but there s a time to let up and it s come

now !
"

Yes, it s come now," seconded Cartwright.

"

If
"

we ve got to go to-night, let our last moments be as

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 5

pleasant as possible. No use swallowing more agony

than we have to."

Fine soldiers of fortune you chaps are," Long-

"

worthy taunted. We re off Hell s Playground get

"

into the game, you ll have a better chance come on ;

:

laugh, drink, be merry, to-morrow belongs to no man."

As thoughto corroborate his words, the Nigeria made
a deeper plunge, causing men to clutch at iron-fastened
tables to keep their equilibrium, while lightning flashed

through the room in incessant streams, fiend-driven rain

became more insistent, and thunder growled nearer,
nearer !

Kingsford forced himself to his feet ; Longworthy s

taunt loaned power to his voice, and, holding his glass

aloft, he cried :

"

Up, everybody ! Let s drink to Hell s Playground ;

may the devil do his damnedest, but not before we ve had

a go at Africa s
voluptuous daughters and had a run for
our money."
A pandemonium of hysteria followed as strained nerves

sought relief before impending annihilation. Men were

on their feet cursing madly, vehemently, venomously, all
save one and he kept his chair, his glass remained un
touched on the table his eyes were looking through
;

ports whose curtains were as naught against the insist

ence of the hissing lightning. The play of the elements
fascinated him. He had never before witnessed such a
boisterous, tropical night, such a tirade of Nature upon
so grand and terrible a scale.

Kingsford was stung to renewed resentment.

What s the matter with you, the Honorable Cecil
"

Huntingdon," he demanded, in a shrill, sarcastic staccato.

6 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

Afraid to drink to truth? Better swim back to

England and mother; Hell s Playground is no place for

"

nincompoops !

He emphasized the last word and its syllables came

slowly, derisively.
Like a flash, Huntingdon was on his feet. His eyes
blazed dangerously and his young, lithe, athletic form
was tense for action.
"

He
drunk, Huntingdon, don t mind him," assuaged
s

Haywood, placing himself between the two men.

"

shrieked Kingsford, losing all control of

Drunk,"

himself. I
"

m
no more drunk than the rest of you.
This bally aristocrat s on me nerves. He belongs at
Mamma s tea-table."

Witha spring, Huntingdon was upon Kingsford; he

snapped Kingsford s jaws shut and commanded in a low,

vibrant voice, which stewards hastened to obey :

"

Take the fellow below and lock him in !

"

Fighting and kicking viciously and cursing Hunting

don roundly, Kingsford was unceremoniously led below.
Silence followed his exit.
The artillery of the heavens was immediately over
head ;
the thunder was deafening like fingers of live
;

devils lightning played on this man and then on that;

winds rose higher and higher; the fury of the seas in
creased, and on all sides the water gurgled like demons

hungry for prey.

On the after-deck something gave way and there fol
lowed a rending, a groaning, as though the Nigeria s
very vitals were being forced apart !

Eyes of men met!

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 7

Instinctively there was a drawing together, a feeling

of oneness, of common peril !

Stripped was each man of his mask !

Breathing was difficult !

Pretense no longer supportable !

Pipes and cigars went out !

Excruciating silence reigned !

There came terrific blasts as though overhead worlds

were exploding!
For a second the Nigeria poised in mid-air as though
to resist the perils besieging her, then, punished for her

audacity, she was dragged violently dozen, down, down!

Glasses and bottles spilled their contents and toppled
to the floor !

Money, chips, cards, followed in quick succession.

Back and forth they rolled on the floor with nerve-de
stroying clatter!
Men, hollow-eyed and nerveless, held their breath and
waited; waited helpless, inert; a hell of hells horrible in
its intensity !

In the compass of seconds was crowded a century of

agony.
"

Like rats in a flooded gutter that s the way they

would perish !
"

so said the old coasters, the men who

knew !

The
imperiled were going to pieces under that awful
menace when suddenly a cry cut the air like steel plunged
!

into molten metal. It was one word, only one: that of

MOTHER and ! it was wrung from a boyish throat.
Its terror, finality, petition for aid, were agonizing,
yet it eased the insufferable tension.
8 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Unmindful of the plunging ship, Huntingdon leaped
to the boy s side and grasped his shoulders.
It s pretty rough, old man, I know.
"

But Hains has

the ship s nose right in the teeth of it. That s the way
he fights. Let s face it that way, you and I together,
old chap, you and I together
"

Sincere, spontaneous were Huntingdon s words ;

cour

ageous his bearing, comforting his manner. Men were

dragged from the very depths of physical fear.
Haywood squared his shoulders and pulled down the
coat of his uniform. He was again a soldier, an empire
builder, fearless and brave.
Stifling, hot, though the room was, Wallace tightly
buttoned up his coat. He, too, was ready !

Longworthy s thoughts were not pleasant, if twitching

lips and wrinkled brows speak true, but suddenly, his
features grew rigid, he sat back in his chair, grasped its

arms, and was ready !

Boynton, unconscious of his actions, opened a jack-

knife and commenced to whittle the stem of his pipe ;

then, conscious, he dropped knife and pipe, sat back,

and waited.
The four old coasters Huntingdon, the tenderfoot,
;

and Hertford, the boy, were grouped together, their

faces towards the bow !

Suddenly Cartwright joined them.

A look, just one, passed swiftly from eye to eye.
Strong men were confessed and cowards were be
trayed !

Cowards lay prone upon the floor, faces hidden, fingers

stuffed in ears.
Knees long unaccustomed to supplication s bow now
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 9

bent in abject terror! Lips unused to pray tried to

fashion petitions to the Most-High 1

The Nigeria pitched and plunged, quicker and shorter,

as a drowning thing in her death throes !

With an unearthly cry a steward collapsed on a table,

then tumbled hard to the floor ! His cheek was split

open, blood deluged his white coat.

But men saw naught, heard naught but their own
thoughts.
Acts which the dead past seemed to have buried sprang
into magnified existence.
Hidden crimes cried aloud, and good deeds were silent.

Death, the relentless, the revealer, stalked abroad. Men

saw themselves as they were, loathsome creatures from
which their own natures recoiled.
Women trooped by, one by one a mother a sister
:
; ;
a
wife ;
a sweetheart a toy of the moment women of
; ;
all

kinds ;
a world of them, accusing, mocking, comfort
ing !

When life s forces were stretched to their fullest and

the tension was at breaking point, an unusually sharp ex

plosion overhead was followed by others in quick suc

cession, receding farther and farther away and diminish
ing in intensity until the heavens reverberated with what
seemed random shots let go from rapidly-retreating can

non the lightning

;
was not so vivid, nor quick, nor near,
and the wind grew less wild !

A comparative calm reigned above, while the sea con

tinued to pound and menace, and the ship plunged and
rocked, plunged and rocked !

Wallace removed his cap and mopped the sweat from

his brow.
10 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Cartright sat down.
Huntingdon released the boy.

Haywood undid his high military collar.

Boynton and Longworthy mechanically stooped and

picked up cards and chips.
Cowards uncovered their heads.

Crouching men scrambled to their feet.

Fitful came the lightning flashes the thunder was ;

spasmodic and faint in the distant heavens, when Boyn

ton spoke :

Palaver
"

set. West coast tornadoes always steal off

like that after scaring human beings to death. ll We
plunge and pitch for hours yet, but I ll gamble on our
skipper. He s Irish and luck s always with the Irish
when it ain t forninst them."
Here s to Hains," cried Wallace. May God
" "

bless

im and the divvil ne er scorch the hair on his hide."

The game of life was again taken up.

Cowards became brave and strong men assumed care
lessness. But moods were softer, less vehement less ;

positive were acts and words the

; air was still surcharged
with death s menace.
"

A west coast tornado s like passion, the harlot, who

masquerades under the name of love," declared Haywood.
Hell s flame while it lasts, then
"

I say, Steward, now

we will have a drink. No alloys ; straight pegs,
"

brandy?
Every head inclined favorably. And when the drinks
were served, old Wallace drawled:
s got a peculiar brand of
Yes, this coast
"

everything:
climate, diseases, white men, justice, women and slander.
They ll
greet us to-morrow at Sierra Leone."
 11

"

And Sierra Leone

s my port," sighed Boynton.

Silence
fell, and, one by one, men stole off to bed.
The horrors of the night killed all enthusiasm natural
before the first port of a long sea voyage, and the croak

ing of the old coasters had left tenderfeet dubious

whether or not they cared to go ashore before their des
tinations were reached.

Haywood and Longworthy were alone, having a night

cap. The conversation was of the tornado lived through
and the actions of the different men.

you, Longworthy, when death beckons, every

"

I tell

man cards are down on the table and you get the color
s

of his soul. Gad, didn t the blood of Huntingdon s il

lustrious and noble ancestors flare up gloriously ! He
ought to be in the army
There s some scandal why he isn
"

interrupted t,"

Longworthy, the commoner, the man of trade. I ve

"

traveled this coast too many times and lived Africa s

lifetoo long to be fooled. He s the black sheep of the
family all right and he s sent out here for the climate
to make quick work of. A pretty tale they tell Be !

trothed to Lady Marjorie, old Lord Grahame s daugh

ter, poor and proud the whole pack o them, and this

chap coming out here to Hell s Playground to make his

own pile That sounds romantic, but it don t hide the
!

truth from me. You know as well as I do that this

west coast has been for years the dumping ground for
Europe s
undesirables, and this Huntingdon s one of
them. The like of him to engage in trade and Long- !
"

worthy s contemptuous sneer was pronounced. He "

don t know any more about trade than

"

You do about gentlemen," snapped Haywood, the

12 HELL S PLAYGROUND
soldier and man of good breeding. Peers are going "

into trade daily they ve got to, and Cecil Huntingdon,

the youngest son of Lord Bedford his mother, you
know is the Duke of Granville s daughter shows pro
gression and independence to break away from polo,
bridge and the tiresome but gay life of the King s very
set and come out to rough it and wrestle wealth from
the great African forests. I admire his grit and no man
can insult him in my presence !
"

"

Well, there s one consolation. Hell s

Playground
isn t any respecter of pedigree. If the climate don t

get Huntingdon, the mammies will," and Longworthy

chortled sardonically.
"

A full-blooded, young chap

like him can no more live without women than I can exist
without air to breathe. The first thing he ll do will

be to set up a harem."

aud Haywood sighed reminiscently and

"

I hope not,"

mournfully.
"

not going to turn sky pilot

Gad, Haywood, you re

and warn tenderfeet against the ladies of color. I

thought you were a soldier."

Longworthy s sneer killed the gentle in Haywood, and

he cried :

"

You Longworthy, Huntingdon s blonde

re right,
beauty play havoc with the mammies, and his tall stat
ll

ure, kingly bearing and natural dignity 11 win half his

battle in trade. The savages will kotow to him on sight
and he
not get in too deep with the ladies, he stands
if ll

a pretty good fighting chance of making his pile and

marrying the Lady Marjorie. Gad, Longworthy, I m

glad Sierra Leone s at hand. These thirteen days and
nights have been agony to me. I couldn t stand it
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 13

another day. I m anxious to see the Yorubas Captain

Collingwood left with Morrison. I ll take one; you can

have the other, if she ll suit."

She Collingwood s an epicure where

"

ll suit all right.

women are concerned and what s good enough for him

is good enough for yours truly all right. The bally
ship s on me nerves, too, and a bit of women s society ll
be welcome after the abstemious voyage of the ship, eh,
old chap?
"

Haywood laughed amorously and ordered another

drink.
 CHAPTER II

IN his cabin, Huntingdon pulled at his calabash pipe.

He was unconscious of the heat, the pounding of the
sea, the tossing of the ship. His thoughts were of the
fast-moving events of the past three months. What a
battle royal he had with his imperious mother to get her
consent to his entering trade then, it was only gained by
;

his agreeing to pose before the world as off on a long

hunting trip to Africa for big game.
To hunt," the Lady Bedford said, is the pastime
" "

of kings, but were the world to know that a son of mine

was engaged in plebeian trade, our noble forbears would
leave their graves and come to torture me. Your an
cestors were gentlemen, Cecil dear; they never earned a

shilling in their lives

"

But Huntingdon was tired of money lenders and sick

of the efforts made by his mother to keep going in the
world into which they were born. His oldest brother,
and heir to the title, had married for wealth, a woman
older than himself and one he respected but did not love.

-fiancee, the Lady Marj one, was, like Hunt

s
Huntingdon
ingdon, long on mortgaged estates and short of cash.
He loved her deeply and truly, too deeply and truly to
ask her to share poverty and pretense with him. She
was worth winning, worth working for, worth throwing
over ancestral traditions for. It is true he shrank from
trade at home, but Africa was so far away he would be
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 15

spared the eye-drooping and the shoulder-shrugs of his

noble relatives and friends. He was not yet strong
enough to brave them. It was only his great love for
Marjorie that had recently made a man of him, that fired
the ambition to dare, to do, to create for himself and
her. He appreciated the pain and humiliation he caused
his mother by his decision to enter trade. His mother
had made a girl of him because daughters were denied
her. She would be lonesome without him, for his father.
Lord Bedford, hated bridge and drawing-rooms, teas
and bazaars, and, save where court etiquette demanded
it, he never accompanied his lady.
But what a brick the mater was after all She not !

only fitted him out properly for a three-years stay in

Africa, but had bade him go forth and conquer !

The influence of his father secured for him a position

for one year as trader with the British firm of John Holt
& Company at Cape Lopez in the Congo Franfais, just
under the equator. The salary was less than he was
wont to throw away in tips, but it was rich in what he
needed most and must have experience. He would come
:

in direct touch with the natives he would learn barter

;

and and the values of native products he would

sale ;

study the business from the ground up. After his year
of apprenticeship, he would branch out a trader on his
own account, his father having promised if he made good
in that one year, to get together sufficient capital to float
an independent trading company of which he, Cecil,
was to be the head. Trading houses established on the
coast for upwards of one hundred and fifty years would
have to be competed with, but the country was so rich in
products necessary to civilization that a new company,
16

properly financed and managed, could not but reap vast

profits.
In consulting with Mr. Holt in Liverpool, Hunting
don was told the truth about his berth the monotonous,
:

isolated life ; the

unhealthy conditions
climatic the ;

treachery of the natives. But Huntingdon s loins were

girded for a fight, and obstacles to be combated, only

whetted his determination to succeed.
In his two years as an independent trader he expected
to lay the foundation of a fortune sufficient for him to
marry upon. After his marriage, he would return to
Africa only periodically to look after his interests and
to increase his holdings. He would put first class men
in local charge, and in ten years, or perhaps a less time,

he would have an income large enough to sustain Mar-

jorie and himself in the state befitting their birth.

Mighty, indeed, were his plans for a tenderfoot, but

youth and inexperience are confident and brave only
graybeards draw back and hesitate.
The long voyage out, which the old coasters had
designated as thirteen days and nights of almost unen
durable torture and monotony, was of absorbing inter
est to Huntingdon. Worlds were revealed to him of
whose existence he had never even dreamed. The ship
was small ; the company a motley one ; not at all the
usual sort found aboard an ocean liner. Men were of
high and low degree ;
others scarce knew their names, or
elsehid their true ones under an euphonius sobriquet.
Each man was for himself, each was a soldier of fortune
out to try his luck on the notorious west coast of
Africa.
That coast and to-morrow were at hand. Hunting-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 17

don turned to meet them. He flung wide his port and

gazed into the night.
The storm had passed.
The heavens were a blue-black velvet canopy studded
with diamonds of fiery brilliancy. There was no moon,
and in the offing lay Africa, silent, mysterious and secre
tive !

Huntingdon tried to pierce the blurred coast line.

But no definite shape formed. All was shadowy, elu

sive, like Africa s early history a matter of conjecture,

a myth, yet, withal, terribly real.
As he mused, blue-black night faded one by one the ;

stars silently made way for a blue dream-world out of

which the continent of Africa was born and took definite

shape; then, with a suddenness that startled, final shad

ows disappeared before the gentle caress of rosy-fin
gered dawn sunbeams danced on silver-crested waves
;

which but a few hours since were ridden by demons of

the deep, and revealed was Africa, no longer dark and
mysterious, but sun-flooded and enticing !

After leagues and leagues of monotonous sea level and

Leone arose from the sea s very rim
limitless sky, Sierra

a mountain of surpassing beauty. The arid sunlight

played upon it with startling brilliancy, revealing tree-
smothered heights embowered in effervescent vegetation
and efflorescent flowers, and throwing into bold relief the
sun-scorched, sandy wharfs and the crooked, winding
streets of Freetown ; the long, red-tin-roofed factories
and white houses of the Europeans, and the mud huts
of the natives.
And Sierra Leone Iron Mountain smiled a wel
come. Sierra Leone which centuries before Christ scared
18

off Hannibal, the Carthaginian, and centuries later sent

the Portuguese away in terror by the roaring of its
winds !

How harmless Africa appeared in the brilliant sun

light, clothed in nature s most fetching garb eternal

summer.
Huntingdon was
thrilled through and through.
Whistling blithety he made his toilet he clothed himself
;

in immaculate white he was anxious to set foot on the

;

land from which he would compel wealth to explore a

;

British colony at first hand; and, above all, to stretch

his limbs in exercise. His active temperament had
chafed against the confinement of the ship. But the
first long leg of the journey was over, from now on

ports were more frequent and at every one he determined

to go ashore.
 CHAPTER III

HUNTINGDON was the first white man on deck. Na

tives in dug-outs surrounded the steamer and, begging
coins, dived into the water after them, to come up smil

ing, the coin held between their gleaming teeth. Such

Huntingdon had never before wit
rapid, accurate diving
nessed, and he was only too glad to empty his pockets
of loose change.
Up s ladders climbed the most perfect
the Nigeria

specimens of black humanity Huntingdon eve" gazed

upon. They were the noted Krus, who are the back
bone of the white man s trade in Africa. Clothed in
singlet and loin cloths, or only the latter, each man was
a Hercules, and Huntingdon watched them dexterously
unload the cargo for Freetown.
With Longworthy and Hay wood, Huntingdon went
ashore. Freetown, the Port Said of the west coast,
and one of the most infamous slaving ports that has
passed into history, interested him keenly and surprised
him mightily. He expected tropical dreariness he ;

found the bustle and activity of Europe. The scene

was un-African to the highest degree; ships were un
loading and loading, coaling, and being, overhauled;
trained black troops were going aboard transports ; raw
recruits were being taken therefrom great cranes and
;

dredges were at work, and on the beach were cosmopoU

itan crowds, speaking divers tongues. There seemed ev-

19
20 HELL S PLAYGROUND

ery civilization and every want of it. Dressed-up Euro

peans and Asiatics elbowed almost nude bush negroes.
Arabs, Berbers and Mohammedan negroes were pictur
esque in turban and burnouse; Turks and Persians in
baggy trousers, broad, brilliant silk sashes and the fez;
white women were conspicuous by their absence and
white men by their deathly pallor, their languor and
their simple dress of white duck or khaki.
Nude negroes Huntingdon expected nor was he of
fended at first sight of them, but the dressed-up variety
seemed members of a grotesque minstrel show gotten up
for the white man s amusement. One couple was espe
cially mirth-producing and yet utterly unconscious of
it. The woman weighed hundred pounds
at least three
and was garbed in a loose mother-hubbard made of print
goods of flaming purple covered with a bold de
sign of luridly colored peacocks. Her dress stood out
like a balloon over stiffly-starched, white embroidered

petticoats conspicuously displayed were ankles like a

;

Percheron s, fat, ugly legs, salmon pink stockings, and

broad, flat feet forced into tan European shoes with
bursted sides. On
her high, conical-shaped head with its
mass of woolly hair was perched a bit of a black straw
sailor hat; she reeked to high heaven of trade perfume

and she was literally loaded with near-gold European

jewelry. She smiled
broadly at Huntingdon, and,
through the cavity once occupied by two front teeth,
she lisped in English in a musical voice :

Good day to you, master."

"

Longworthy guffawed gleefully and nudging Hay-

wood in the ribs, he cried :

Didn t I tell you the tenderfoot had us all skinned

"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 21

on mammy palaver. G wan, Huntingdon, follow her

up She could be worse, but not much
! !
"

The companion of the Sierra Leone mammy was a

pewce of a man, thin, old and wrinkled. He didn t
weigh one hundred pounds and he wore a cast-off dress
coat of a white man over a pair of red- and blue-striped
Turkish trousers. Coat and trousers were too large for
him. His arms were long sleeves of the coat,
lost in the

its tails swept the ground, and its lapels were thrown

back, completely hiding his shoulders and exposing a

chest covered with tribal marks. The trousers were
turned back above his knees from whence they drooped
disconsolately and would have dragged on the ground
save for something which supported them under the fold.
Another mammy, in addition to her mother-hubbard
and many underskirts, wore tightly wound about her fat
hips a broad cotton scarf of Turkey red with huge yel
low polka dots. Emphasized were her enormous hips.
She did not walk; she just edged forward in sections
like a huge jellyfish.
"

Opera bouffe with all its trimmings," Huntingdon

remarked, thoroughly amused, when he abruptly stopped
and gazed in silent admiration upon a native bush cara
van making its way to the beach. The caravan was
large and the carriers heavily laden with long, narrow
baskets stuffed with native products. The loads were
carried on their backs and supported from the forehead

by a broad band of plaited grass causing their heads

to constantly droop in The car
a fatiguing manner.
riers were dirty and spent and had evidently traveled
far. So slight were their loin cloths that they might
have been nude and about their necks were unsightty
22 HELL S PLAYGROUND
l
ju-ju charms to guard them from evil. They walked
slowly and in single file. The faces of the men were
hard and set, repulsive and brutal the mouths of the ;

women and children were open, indicating thorough

exhaustion ;
the breasts of the women were flat, shrivelled
and ugly, and in addition to the loads on their backs,
in front, suspended from their necks in a piece of cloth
or hide, the women bore their children.
For the first time the tragedy of the African bush was

brought home to Huntingdon horses, drays, roads were

;

not there; all carriage was head portage and the labor
ers were a free people who toiled not for themselves but
for the white man.

Longworthy, the man of trade, was decrying the lack

of transportfacilities and cursing the negro for his lazi

ness, when Haywood expostulated, translating Hunting

don s
very thoughts.
"

After all, Longworthy, it s the poor devil of a negro

who slaves and it s the white man who reaps the profits
of this wealthy continent. Don t forget, that without
the negro the white man would have no business here and
Africa would keep her wealth."
It was such an unheard of thing for a white man, and
a soldier, to defend the native that Longworthy cried in
astonishment :

"

Good heavens, Haywood, you must be tapped by

the sun !
"

"

Not at all, Brother Longworthy, but I believe in

giving the devil his due."

"

He gets his due all right. Don t we pay him for

every tap of work he does for us
i Local name for fetish, superstition.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 23

"

And don t we flog him unmercifully when he won t

work "

"

He ought to be flogged the lazy

Say, Longworthy, how much work would a white
"

man do if nature provided every want for him as she

does for these negroes eh, answer me?

"

Well, she don then that in

" "

t, why lug
Answer my question, please. Would you work un
"

less you had to

"

I m damned if he ain t sun-tapped, Huntingdon.

"

We d better get him under shelter some place."

I m no more sun-tapped than you are. Answer me
"

this, then what is it we do with the natives and their

;

lands when they are no longer of use to us?

"

Why, dammit it, Haywood, you soldiers kill more

"

negroes than we traders do."

But answer me, please, Longworthy, what is it we

"

do"

Ah, cut it
" "

my own question then. When we ve de

I ll answer
"

stroyed the rubber vines in a district and scoured it

clean for ivory and robbed the natives of everything
elsethey possess, we desert the land and cast the natives
aside like squeezed lemons. We call it exploitation,
colonization, but it s robbery
"

Hell, all colonies are built on dead men s bones

That doesn
"

and cruelty is cruelty and

t alter facts,

inhumanity inhumanity no matter under what guise they

are administered
"

It s
you soldiers who administer them
"

I m not denying that

"

Mebbe not, but you re becoming weak-kneed. Gad,

24 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon, I believe the erstwhile Captain Haywood
of the Royal Irish Fusiliers ll be turning sky-pilot and
casting his life among these brutes who d kill him at
the first opportunity and chop him too if they didn t
fear the vengeance of the very body of men to whom he

belongs. Every nigger s a cannibal at heart and secret

poisons and poisoned arrows are their favorite past-
times."

"

You re right, Longworthy, about the cannibal and

the poisons," Haywood admitted, overlooking the insult
to his courage, because he knew that Longworthy meant
no insult, that anger is quick to come and quick to go on
the coast, that the climate is responsible for most of
the shortcomings of the white men. Still, because the
"

negro does work for us indifferently, I acknowledge,

his efforts ought to be appreciated, and because the
negroes don t arise in a body and massacre us and keep
other white men from landing on their coast ought to
earn them some consideration."
"

It ought, but it don grumbled Longworthy, as

t,"

he lead the way into the modern post office, where post
cards, letters and cables were sent off to Europe.
Then followed a promenade through Freetown. Its

narrow, hard-packed, sandy streets, without sidewalks,

were blinding as molten metal under the fierce radiance
of the African sun.
The heat was not the dry, blasting sort Huntingdon
had anticipated; it was of palm-house mugginess and
so dense and heavy that he seemed enveloped in a hot,

steaming blanket which deluged him with sweat, pre

vented his getting a full breath, and made his legs seem
like ton weights, and, though his brain willed them for-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 25

ward, they were loath to obey. For the first time he

experienced thorough enervation his pith helmet was

;

also tight and made his head ache and it seemed as

thought metal rods at white heat were being plunged into
his eyes. He was thoroughly wretched, but he forced
himself on he laughed at the grandiloquent names of
;

the various streets printed on boards nailed askew on

corner palm trees he admired the modern market on
;

Market Street and took Longworthy s word for it that it

contained every article exported from, or imported to, the

colony, but he had no desire to explore it however, he ;

paused in admiration amidst the native markets where fat

mammies and slender bush-women under the shelter of

huge, black European umbrellas, haggled over their wares

spread out on the ground in calabashes of all shape and
sizes, crowding streets and impeding traffic. Noisy was
the babel of tongues, and Huntingdon marveled at the
good-natured disorder of it all.

In and out of a low, one story, frame building labeled

King s Own Bar natives were passing beneath the legend
;

Sara Cole, Trader, doorway of her little shop

in the

stood the proprietress.She smiled broadly when Hunt

ingdon stopped and glanced over her stock arranged on
crude boxes on the sidewalk. He was thinking how
hideous were the bold, colored designs on the heavy
white china dishes, how utterly unnecessary to the negro
were the European clothing prominently displayed to
attract his attention, when two tiny girls, one about five
and the other about three years of age, with only a
strand of beads about their waists, advanced, balancing
on their little well-poised heads copper basins holding
water. They were slender and dainty as though a Phid-
26

ias had carved them from ebony, and they didn t notice
the admiring white man until they came full upon him,

then, the littlest one, startled, let drop her pan of water
and ran away screaming, while the other stood stock
still, too paralyzed to move. When Huntingdon passed
on, she ran as fast as she could go and she too screamed
at the top of her thin, childish voice.
look at
" "

I say, old chap," Longworthy called out,

the enormous girth of those cottonwoods Africa s full !

of big timber and one day the world must look to her
for lumber; if the negroes could be made into practical
workmen, an enterprising white man could make millions
out of her forests."

Huntingdon knew that Longworthy spoke from actual

experience and he was eager to hear him expound his
ideas how best the timber could be worked, but such

complete lassitude suddenly possessed him and so blind

ing were the sun-baked streets after the sea s undulating
surface, that it was all he could do to keep his eyes open
and remain upright. In positive agony he followed his
friends, until, no longer able to endure, he cried :

I say, don t you chaps mind this infernal heat?

" "

"

Of course we do," answered Haywood.

"

But
there s no use growling about it. What s that quota
tion : Lead on, Zeus, where thou wilt. If follow I
must, Vd rather go smiling and free, than spuling and
in chains."

For several seconds

Huntingdon gazed in silence upon
Haywood, then he asked solemnly Doesn t it hurt, :
"

old chap, to spout classics in the tropics at this hour in

this infernal heat?
"

Before Haywood could reply, Longworthy ejaculated:

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 27

"

Was that classics? I thought it was Marie Cor-

relli," and pulling off his limp collar and removing his
coat, he threw them to a passing boy l and led the way
to the club.
Morrison immediately joined them. He was a fussy
littleEnglishman cum-
in whites with a broad, red silk

merband wound about his thin hips.

I ve got some baggage for you, Captain Haywood.
"

Yorubas :

Softly, softly, Morrison.

"

We ve got to first intro

duce Mr. Huntingdon to the club, hence the coast, then
he s one of us."

"

First time out, Mr. Huntingdon ?

"

demanded Mor
rison.

Cut your
"

fool questions," growled Longworthy.

"

Does he look like a vet? "

Never can
"

tell, never can tell," gurgled Morrison,

fussily, wriggling in his seat and drumming on the table

with his fingers.
For Christ s
"

get away
sake," yelled Longworthy,
"

from me with your rotten frazzled nerves. You ll have

mine going next and destroy all the good I ought to have
from my respite in Europe."
on to your temper, brother Longworthy, and
"

Hang
your nerves ll take care of themselves," admonished
Haywood.
Longworthy s temper let go.

houses oughtn
"

People in glass t to hurl rocks."

My nerves ain on edge

" "

t !

"

The hell they ain t !

"

"

If I didn t know you for an otherwise decent chap,

Longworthy, I I d box
i Servant of any age.
28 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

The man ain t born who can lick me

"

Gentlemen, gentlemen," here s soothed Morrison,

"

to the only land on earth Merrie England, and to our

:

King and Queen, God bless them."

Helmets were off, men were on their and argu feet,
ment was forgotten. Conversation was of England and
the wagging of the world in civilized countries, when
Haywood whispered to Morrison :

"

Lead us to the mammies."

In a brick bungalow, surrounded by a wide veranda

and reached by a long flight of wooden steps, Morrison
brought forth the Yorubas. They were full-grown
negresses, with slow-moving amorous eyes, sensuous
mouths and gleaming white teeth.
The prettier of the two ran to Huntingdon and tried
to take his hand, but Haywood turned the girl about,

minutely examined her, then commanded :

Get down to the Nigeria on time.

"

No didoing.
Look the other one over, Longworthy."
expostulated Morrison.
"

Oh, she Col-

"

s all right,"

lingwood s
guarantee for both."
Yes, but how long is it since Collingwood sailed and
"

who has had the mammies since then? An ounce of in

spection s worth a hogshead of trouble," growled Long-
worthy, examining the girl.
"

You don suspect me!

t cried Morrison.
"

"

Never can tell, never can tell," and Longworthy

mimicked Morrison s tones and words at the club.
"

You re all
finally agreed Longworthy.
right,"

Get down to the Nigeria on time and see that you

"

don t get lost on the way, savvy? and he pinched the "

girl s arm none too gently.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 29
"

I say, Mr. Huntingdon," cut in Morrison, eagerly.

"

I can get you a Timene. New to white man, but such

a beauty she s worth the training."

nose about for

"

Thanks, Morrison, I ll
myself."

Sec that you nose sure," retorted Longworthy,

"

acridly. Even an old coaster s often fooled."

"

Huntingdon leisurely turned and examined the cheap

prints on the rough, wooden walls ; then, slowly, he
sauntered to the verandah.
"

He a bit squeamish, eh?

s remarked Morrison. "

"

Oh, he ll work out of answered Haywood. it,"

"

The quicker, the better for him," growled Long-

worthy.
Haywood followed Huntingdon to the verandah, and,

placing his hand on Huntingdon s shoulder, he said,

affectionately :

"

This mammy palaver, it s a serious thing, my boy.

The best guarantee is the wife-that-was of an English
man gone home even that s not sure. My young
Yoruba s taken with you. You can have her. The
sooner you load up the better for you ;
it s the custom
of the country."
"

Thanks, old chap, but I won t load up just yet.

No offense, I hope?
"

"

It s your funeral," and Haywood shrugged his

shoulders, dismissing the subject. I due at the bar "

m
racks on Tower Hill. Come along and see our West
Indian regiments. Finest in the land. We recruit our
Colonial troops here, you know."

But Huntingdon was too fatigued for further exer

tion. It was all he could do to get to the beach, and
take canoe for the Nigeria. Thoroughly spent, he sank
30 HELL S PLAYGROUND
into his long steamer chair and fell into a dose, from
which he was awakened by the soft, musical laughter of
women, and a grunt of disapproval from old Wallace
stretched in a chair beside him.
The
laughter came from the Yorubas, who were cross
ing the deck. The brilliant sunlight brought out their,
grace, their symmetry, their youth, their picturesque
ensemble. Their feet, arms and neck were bare and
their polished skin shone like rich ebony, while draped
over a short, striped petticoat and brought up under the
arms, across the breasts, was a cloth of fine texture whose
bright hues effectively set off slender throats, swelling
bosoms and tapering arms and whose clinging quality
outlined forms sylph-like, sinuous and tempting. Their
heads were swathed in fascinating silken kerchiefs and
they walked with superb poise and grace. But for
Huntingdon the artistic effect was spoiled because of
the cheap European beads and bracelets and the nauseat

ing odor of trade scent.

Just a few feet from the white men, the Yorubas
stopped, and, affecting an earnest conversation, they
shot sly glances at the white men, and coquettishly ar

ranged their necklaces and bracelets.

"

I thought you d attract the baggage," sneered Wal

lace.
"

Women are all alike -

snares to bag men, and
we re fool enough to run into the net. I doubt if the
oldest of those girls is sixteen, yet they re as wise as owls,
and they remind me of royal pythons slow-moving, ;

languid, gorgeously rigged out, and apparently harmless,

but once in their toils, the very sap of
squeezed life is

out of ye! Steer clear of them, me boy, steer clear

But can ye, that s the palaver; can ye? "
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 31

"

Africa certainly breathes sex, Mr. Wallace."

"

Smellin calico s man s

general pastime if it ain t,

then he ain t normal or else there ain t no petticoats

floating about. How many of us are true to our women?

So bally few you can t find em. Where are the white
men now? Off shore, mammy- palavering. No, sir, you
can hide it all you ve a mind to, but all men think about

is women. D ye reckon it s the climate and spirits alone

that sends men off their nuts out here? Not by a long
shot; mostly wenches.
it s Here comes another piece
of baggage the three o em s been sent aboard for
somebody s use."

A very young girl joined the Yorubas. She was of

the Jakri tribe, and her slight, graceful, childish figure
was seductively outlined by a single piece of rich, red,
soft cloth, drawn tight across her gently swelling
bosoms. Her coloring was rich copper, and her face
was unusually piquant for a native s.
She s not more n thirteen," went on Wallace, disgust
"

lilting through his tones, and she ll keep thin, ornery"

like that till shetwenty, then she ll commence to get

s

fat. At twenty -five she ll be ugly fat, and at thirty-

five she ll be an old hag, but she ll be that sooner if she
bears pickins. Then in her old age she ll return to her
native town and live on the fame that s hers because she
was wife to a white man. Say what you will, Mr.
Huntingdon, mammy palaver moves the world, it s meat
and drink to us. When we re sold, Ave damn the women ;

when they re sold, they damn us. So it goes on, attrac

tion and repulsion, so-called love and hate eternal re

petition."
"

You re quite right," agreed Huntingdon, filling his

32 HELL S PLAYGROUND

pipe, lighting it, then handing the tobacco pouch to the

old coaster. Wallace helped himself and through puffs
of smoke he said a bit sadly :

"

Fellers feel more equal when tobacco s a-burninV

It was the firsttime the old man had ever acknowl

edged Huntingdon s superior caste, and, ignoring the

implication, Huntingdon said hastily :

"

Men must have their fling an affair now and then

puts some sauce into life. Who d be an anchorite? "

Wise men, out here," laconically replied Wallace.

"

The men smoked for some time in silence, then the old
coaster continued:
"

I hear, Mr. Huntingdon, that you re affianced to a

bonny lady at home. It s the divvil s own time ye ll have

out here to be true to her, and, if ye ll take the advice of
an old rake who s been ruined by black wenches, ye ll
leave them severely
wife and kiddies got
alone. Me
wind of me mammy-palaverin out here and for twenty-
odd years they ve never recognized me. I went home
this time solely to make peace but me woman s one of
them critters who never could overlook a nigger wench,
or any other sort no, sir, I m done for the old fel
;
"

low sighed, then he continued in his customary reckless

spirit,
"

The natives know the value of their women and

they play upon all that is ornriest in us and we ve got to
pay the piper. More fools us. Look at them * * *
over there," and, raising his voice he yelled at the women :

"

Get below where ye belong or I ll kick you into the

sea."

The women turned abruptly and upset an old Hausa

merchant, turban and burnouse and hung
picturesque in
with decorated leathers which he was about to offer to
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 33

the white men. Laughing at the old Mohammedan s

discomfiture, the women balanced themselves lightly

upon the companion ladder, then disappeared below just
as Skipper Hains stentorian tones sang out :

I say, Mr. Wallace, why don t you bring Mr. Hunt

"

ingdon for ard here to watch the deckers come off?

He ll see more native life right here than in all his tramp
about Freetown and without the fatigue of exertion and
danger from sun-stroke."

On the foredeck, seething with cinematographic bril

liance beneath the blinding, arid sun, was a panorama of

activityand warring colors, of ornate clothing and of

bush nudity that held Huntingdon enthralled. It was
the excitement of a general exodus, amidst a babel of

tongues, as family after family poured over the Nigeria s

sides, scrambling for places, while others were crowding
the ladders and others waited below in lighters for a
still

chance to board the ship. Fat mammies bundled to

the very eyes in European clothing and burdened with
enormous packs and babies climbed awkwardly over the
bulwarks, while the scantily draped, slender bush-woman,
pipe in mouth, load balanced lightly on head and a bab}
r

slung securely from her shoulder in a strip of animal s

hide, followed nimbly after, and, with eager, alert eyes,

sought out the best place for the encampment of her

family during the long voyage down the coast. Alterca
tions were many and heated as women fought for posi
tions ;
babies cried lustily as their tender noses and
toes were jammed and bruised; children clothed princi
pally in beads and ju-ju charms clung to their mother s
limbs, wide-eyed, yet calm while men swaggered about
;
34 HELL S PLAYGROUND
unencumbered and free, for it was the East where
women are as mud beneath the feet of their masters and
slaves to their whims.

Conspicuous were a group of Mohammedans return

ing from a pilgrimage to Mecca. The men were tall,
gaunt, lean, and black as the shades of night, with green
turbans on their heads and their bodies fascinatingly
swathed in voluminous white. Their feet were thrust
into huge goat-skin sandals and across their shoulders
were slung small leathern cases containing a line from
El Koran. Behind them trailed awkward human bundles
enveloped in white. They sought out the starboard
deck, which was less crowded because it contained no
shade. One by one they sank on the deck, the bundles
cast aside their ghost-like wrappings and revealed were
fat, ugly, repulsive negresses, several of whom suckled
infants, while a little girl of perhaps two years of age
leaped from her mother s arms and toddled about, bump
ing into others and laughing gleefully. She was per
fectly formed and about her neck, wrists, waist and
ankles were pale blue beads which contrasted beautifully
with her ebony skin. Again the artist in Huntingdon
was aroused and he longed to possess her, but, like
mother, like daughter, he reflected, and he contented
himself with watching the child s graceful movements
while old Wallace remarked:
"

Mohammedanism s the
religion for these negroes be
cause it permits what they ve always enjoyed: plurality
of wives, andit takes from them their
greatest vice, get-
tin One sober nigger is worth a whole raft of
drunk.
drunken so-called Christian niggers. Anyhow, it ain t
no place to send white women out here to teach God-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 35

palaver to a lot of heathen who don t want to be taught,

who don t want to and won t change their ways and
who were a bally sight better off before they were taught
the difference between right and wrong. These savages
are Mwmoral, they ain t immoral, until Christian mis
sionaries get after them and make hypocrites and liars

out o them. I haven t lived thirty years out here for

nothin and I you a nigger s a nigger and he ll always
tell

remain one. You savvy don t you, that them freaks

of women and little girls in mother-hubbards and them
boys in little shirts over cloths and those men mostly
in night shirts are rigged out like that by the mission
aries? Look at that specimen over there," and the old
coaster pointed out a boy of perhaps fourteen wearing
a much-too-small calico shirt ending just above a pot
belly with an abnormal navel and a much-too-long cloth
which prevented his taking a step without holding it

up.
"

Ain t he the ornriest-looking freak you ever saw

compared with those bush-boys clothed only in a

"

girdle?
"

The bush-boy certainly looks more natural," Hunt

ingdon agreed.
sealskin sacques for a polar bear
"

Might as well buy

as send clothing to these heathen one needs em about
as much as t other. If you was down there you d smell
the stink of them dressed-up niggers,"
and the old
I can spin you tales, and
"

coaster fairly spat disgust.

true ones too, about missionaries that would make your
head swim
"

Please, Mr.
interrupted Huntingdon, in
Wallace,"

whom the Anglican faith was strong, leave me some of

"

the beliefs in which I ve been brought up."

36

Ah, me boy, you ve left civilization and Christianity

"

far behind and you ll learn more in one month about the

folly of attempting them here than you d glean in a

lifetime from the readin of books and the mouthin s

of sky-pilots. You can t make anything but a nigger

out of a nigger and you can t change their centuries
of superstitions and habits over night and that s what
the missionaries
trying to do. And the result?
are

Making hypocrites, liars and conscious sinners where be

fore only naturalness existed. If that s religion, then

sky-pilots had better rest at home. Look at the niggers

down there, a lot of beasts snarlin for lairs, and then
castyour eyes upon them Mohammedans. The latter s
mindin their own business and stickin to theirselves.
Poor though them beggars are, they think they ll ne er
see Mahomet s Paradise unless at least once in their life
time they make the journey to Mahomet s grave, and so

they scringe and screw and when they ve got enough

together to pay their way, off with their wimmin and
their pickins they start. It takesthem months, some
times years to trek it, but years ner distance don t count
with them ; they live only to die, and they thrive on
what would starve a fasting monk as on they trek to
Mecca. Repeatedly they run afowl of roving Arabs
and Berbers and are robbed of their little, but other and
more fortunate pilgrims help them out, for charity, you
savvy, one of their greatest virtues.
is There was a sky-
pilot on the voyage going home with me last time who
was so ignorant and bigotted that he wouldn t even
acknowledge that there could be any virtues at all in a
Mohammedan. To him Mohammedans and savages are
alike : both heathen. And one time when I called to pay
 S7

my respects to an English mission lady up on the Niger,

there was a sewin class goin on and standin off wist

fully lookin on wit a child tuggin at her breasts was a

young woman who was actually sufferin to join the
*
others, but the English lady would have none o her be
cause says the mission lady she s a Magdalene. Sez
I, D ye come out fer to save sinners or saints? Sez the

lady, She s a common person, a huzzy. Sez I, An

what s the others ? Proper wives, sez the lady. Oh,
they are, sez I ; well I ll be tellin your Saintship that
all them women belong to one man and in his town last

night that one there a-teachin the others was offered

to me for six pence Ah, ye needn t be blushin and
turnin yer head, sez I ; and ye can t make fish o one
and fowl o the other when old Wallace is
by, and that
night I walked back to the town of the old chief s to
settle the palaver in me own mind why one should be

called aMagdalene and the others classed as saints. And

what d ye think I found the Magdalene was a Mag
dalene because a man who had bought her as his wife
didn t pay for her in full and her father took her from
him and sold her to a man who offered to pay a little
more for her, but that skunk also defaulted and the
poor girl was sold to a dried-up ape old enough to be
her father. Now it sknown how many marriages this
girl s made, but there sno way o tellin how much mixin
up the other lot s done, owned as they are by an onery
old beast who lives off the wages of the bodies of his

women. And
that selfsame night back to their native
town comes the missiongirls, and with the Magdalene
they were all up to their dirty, bush tricks. Now what
have ye got to say to that? "
38 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon made no answer, and, after a time, the
old coaster remarked, apropos of the Mohammedan
women :

Did ye ever in
"

all your life see such ugly, stinldn

women! If they re the sort in Mahomet s heaven, then

every Mohammedan ought to turn Christian."

The old coaster chortled at his own joke, then, re
senting Huntingdon s continued silence, muttering to
himself he wandered away.

Huntingdon had forgotten Wallace nor did he hear

his rambling, drawling narrative. He was completely
absorbed in the Mohammedans. He admired their poise,
their indifference. The pitiless sun beat down upon them
with ardor, but they heeded it not their
all its relentless ;

eyes roamed seaward over the water s blinding surface

indifferent to its glare noises vibrated about them, but
;

they heard them not Motionless as milestones of Fate

!

they remained tranquil and unmoved amidst the life and

unrest of the present. What perfect detachment: to
ignore the present, to dream always and only of the fu
ture: Mahomet s heaven with its principal delights the
houris! The East enthralled Huntingdon her languor, ;

her fanaticism permeated his very arteries while imagina

tion s wings flew with him to the swift-flowing, sacred
Nile on whose bosom lazily float broad khiassas, laden
with bersim, and -feluccas, bearing natives and donkey-
boys; where blue-robed women fill their goolahs; where
the faithful perform their ablutions, then, their sandals
laid aside, kneel on the banks, and, with their faces to
wards Mecca, pray to the One and Only God; where a
gang of conscripts, chained ankle to ankle on their way to
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 39

the river are silent and indifferent to their fate as is the

way of the True Believer!

Then in memory s train came Cairo with its myriad
nameless mosques and minarets; its houses of white
stone and plaster, with flat roofs fashioned into gardens
and promenades its narrow, noisy bazars with their
;

mushrabieh panels, from behind which peep out

little

women of the East, clothed as the East in barbaric

splendor, as merchants haggle over antichi with gullible
touristsfrom the new West !

Colossal, awe-inspiring loom the pyramids of Gizeh

and Sakkara, tombs of mighty rulers returned to the
dust from whence they sprung, and the Sphinx of

Ephesus, inscrutable, disdainful and sarcastic, taunts

the present with its secrets and
time to decipher
defies

them ! The Sphinx,

fitting symbol of Egypt s peoples,
transcendentally alluring and romantic and mysterious
with a thousand incomputable yesterdays the riddle of ;

the past, the wonder of the present, the defier of the

future, and withal a true Moslem fatalistic and silent.

:

Time has gone and time may come, but the Sphinx turns
the same scarred countenance to human gaze, indifferent
to the thoughts of men indifferent to Time s assaults
; ;

inexorable as Fate itself; a monument of permanence

amidst constant change!
How hot and waste and still lies the Sahara, a vast
sea of opalescent sand, beneath the scorching, blasting
sun and the invading khamsin, and now and then in the
vast expanse, stretching hundreds and hundreds of miles,
is an oasis as a gem in a cloth of faded gold. To it,

across paths familiar to the feet of untold centuries

40

come caravans of awkward camels, their eyes inquisitive

:

and restless in their small heads, their ever-moving jaws

chewing the cud of knowledge of Moslem and her peo
ples Berbers and Arabs riding like the winds, their
;

swathed bodies one with their noble white steeds ; sais

plodding patiently beside laden donkeys pilgrims a-f oot,

;

weary and thirsty ! For cool and restful is the shade of

the date palms, nourishing is their sweet nut, and re

freshing is the water!

Tis early morn at Assiout and Abyssinian slaves are
being sold in the market place; their supple, smooth,
rounded youth and big, open, wondering eyes, contrast
ing sympathetically with the shriveled skin and piercing,
crafty, half-closed eyes of the aged Arabian slave-
dealers.
Tis high noon, all nature rests and the pitiless sun

reigns supreme.
Gorgeous is the sunset o er the Mokkattan Hills ;

plaintive the evening sky

is
mysterious is submerged;

Philae under a brilliant moon; majestic and silent is

Pharaoh s Bed at Assouan.
Tis night Dingy cafes, thick with the tobaccos of
!

the east, breathe assignations, lust and crime. Coffee is

thick and perfumed with ambergris; drugs are many and

stupefying; and Orientals and Occidentals are fasci

nated unto helplessness by the lure of it all !

Oh, Egypt, the sorceress, the betrayer, the seducer,

the enchantress !

Oh, Ramadam, the fast by day ; the hours of lazy

dreaming; the sunset signal; the call of the Muezzins;

the uncovering of millions of cooking pots ; the escape
of their tempting odors ; the night of gorging and feast-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 41

ing and orgy, then the peep of day from out Nile s
sacred bosom when all True Believers turn towards the
East and demand pardon for their sins from Allah, the
One and Only God !

And now
the khamsin is blowing: that hot wind of

Egypt and the Soudan, that withers and parches the

skin until it cracks in its misery !

Tribesmen and fierce dervishers bow down before it.

Allah kerim.i
Allahu akbar.%
La ilaha illa-llah. 3

Through the remembered moan of wind and rush of

sand o er Huntingdon s sensitive being there flowed the

plaintive sing-song of the river workers :

Turn, O, Sakkia, turn to the right and turn to the left.

The Nile floweth by night and the balasses are filled at dawn;
The maid of the village shall bear to thy bed the dewy gray goolah
at dawn;

Turn, O, Sakkia.

the weird Alla-haly m alla-haly; the

Then followed
monotonous beat of darabukheh and the brisk music of
the exciting fantasias. Ghawsees sway voluptuously in
the Oriental dance ; their reddened eyelids, fringed with

heavy lashes darkened with kohl, languorly open and

close, permitting fleeting glimpses of eyes, dark and
moist ; tiny, white teeth gleam provokingly through car
mine-tinted lips ; bracelets clink musically on rounded
wrists and ankles, swelling bosoms rise and fall in amor-
1 God is bountiful.
2 God is most great.
s There isno Deity but God.
42 HELL S PLAYGROUND
cms rhythm and the vermiculations of the abdomen grow
wilder and wilder, stealing from men their senses and

planting therein the ardent sting of desire !

Thus Huntingdon brain the spiders of memory

in s

wove an intricate design, without rhyme or continuity,

of Egypt, Luxor, Karnak of crooked, winding, filthy
;

streets ;
of pariah dogs ;
of vermined, ragged beggars ;

of hapless fellaheen; of minarets, whole citadels of

them; of kiosks; of temples; of Muezzins; the constant
chanting of prayers, of petitions and the perpetual
thanksgiving to the ever-present and terrifying Prophet.
Huntingdon withered beneath the scorn of the white-
clad, silent Mussulman, for him, a Nazarene and an un
believer! He recognized what an insignificant creature
he was, viewed from the aisles of their great antiquity !

La ilalia illa-llah!

Conscription, corvee, death are received with a shrug

the fatalistic malaish of the True Believer. All is
written, it must come to pass !

TheOrient, the irresistible, passion-begetting, sense-

disturbing Orient! Musty as Time itself, rotten with
disintegration putrid and decadent with the offal of cen
;

turies and peoples, crimes and virtues, lust and greed !

History making, history destroying! A dust heap of

debris, a monument of preserved education ! A riddle
and a Paradox ! An assertion and a denial !

Huntingdon was alone on the upper deck the only :

white man who felt the Call of the East and succumbed
to its witchery.
A sunset gun boomed in the harbor of Freetown.
Huntingdon attuned his ear, awaiting the Muezzin s

call to prayer. The material call did not reach him, but,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 43

below, every Mussulman s face was turned towards

Mecca. Sandals were removed and chaplets brought
forth. Solemnly, silently, now rising to their full
height, now prostrate on the deck, indifferent to the
jeers of men and the mocking laughter of women, prayers
were silently offered to Allah, the one and only God.
Him the Just, the Living, the Irresistible; the Great
est Giver; the Great Provider; the One who opens to
truth the hardened hearts of men; the Only, the Eternal,
the Immutable One!
There is no other God but God and Mahomet is His
Prophet!
Oh, the lure of Allah, the seduction of the East !

Huntingdon went down before them as does a sand-heap

before the onrushing khamsin. He leaned heavily
against the ship s railing, his head dropped on his arms
and drowsiness o ercame him. The heat of Africa s
sun was in his arteries, over-exertion tenanted him. He,
hypercivilized and of a long race of England s noblest
and best men, was but a sensitive instrument, high pitched
and high strung, awaiting a player to bring forth the
melody of laughter or the wail of tears. He was but a
puppet, a marionette for Africa, the inexorable, to do
with as she willed !

Near the horizon line in the west, the sun, a flaming

disk of fire, hung low, bathing the world in vivid pink
and gold, but for a breath of time only, for, like a heavy
plummet let fall by a hand tired of holding it, it was
plunged precipitously downward. Left behind were
streamers of gorgeous colors which, spreading o er ex
panse of water and sky, quickly dissolved into soft,
amber shades, the precursors of the mystic velvety blue
44 HELL S PLAYGROUND
of the plaintive African night, while in the east a slen
der crescent showed the moon at her birth !

Suddenly Huntingdon, the human reed, shivered vio

lently in the chilled breath of impersonal night, then a
harsh, vibrant call rang out bringing him back with a
jerk to the present and the mundane.
It was the half-hour bugle before dinner. Mechanic
ally, Huntingdon went below to dress.
Boynton gave a farewell dinner to his fellow passen

gers and to his cronies from Freetown. It was a

bandobust which would give him something agreeable

to think about in his lonely bush life. What mat
tered though he borrowed money with which to pay
it

for wines and viands, what mattered it that he and his

merrymaking companions abetted Africa in her relent

less warfare against the white alien ! Men wanted to

forget the hour, the place ; reckless was their abandon

nor thought they of consequences. The orgy oppressed
Huntingdon. He wanted to be alone, in the night with
Africa - alone with the dreams that lilted drowsily
through his fever-touched brain.
On the upper deck he gazed listlessly out into the
night. He had no knowledge of how long he sat there,
nor of his thoughts. He knew only that Captain Hams
hand was on his shoulder and the Irishman s hearty voice
cried :

It s no place for ye, me lad, out in the African night.

"

The dews bring dysentery and death. Come !

"

In the skipper s quarters forward electric lights beamed

attractively and broad low divans invited relaxation and
repose. On one of them Skipper Hains threw himself,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 45

and, motioning Huntingdon to outstretch on another, he

ordered champagne with plenty of ice, and growled:
Land on shore s a-simmering like a mud cake in a
"

blast furnace, me lad. It s

glad I am to be on board

again."

He appeared not to notice Huntingdon s silence nor

the languor that possessed him, but he gave him most
of the wine, which, coupled with the home-like atmosphere
of the skipper quarters, brought back Marjorie and
s

England to Huntingdon and caused him to demand

abruptly :

Skipper, d you believe in love?

" "

I say,

The skipper s blue eyes danced merrily and delicious

and thick was his brogue:
"

Thot s wan av thim dom fool questions, and me an

Irishman from Belfast ! It s all the gurrls I love, so

let s drink to our wimmin, me lad, our port in the storms

of life, dangerous channels and strange
our compass in

roadways May they never know the worst of us and

!

we see only the best in them. Chin, chin !

"

Both men drained their glasses, and a woman s laugh

floated up from amongst the deckers.
s lots of mammy-palaver I ve seen, me con
"

It lad,"

fessed Skipper Hains, his serious thoughts driving the

brogue from his speech. There re only two sorts of "

women in the world the good and the bad. Even the
:

worst old rooster that comes out to this coast respects a

good woman, but as to the other sort they didn t be

come so by themselves and I won t sling mud at them.
I m human and I don t expect women nor men to be

angels. And I m Irish and a pair o red lips are mighty

46 HELL S PLAYGROUND
tempting, but these long coast voyages and the uncer
tainty of life keep me from marrying and having a nest
of me own, but sometimes sometimes and the
laughter died out of the merry blue eyes and the skipper
never finished his sentence.

Huntingdon sensed the skipper s loneliness and was

silent with him and in that silence a friendship between
the two men was born that was to endure for life.
Six bells rang out and the skipper sprang to his feet,

exclaiming :

"

Bedtime, me lad. I m Irish and I need all the sleep

I can get. After to-night and for the next ten days
it s not much off the bridge I ll be. We re approaching
the most treacherous part of the coast and it s mother s
sons like ye, Irish Hains has in his keeping. Irish
Hains is called the best skipper that sails this coast and
he must live up to his reputation. If it lies
power in his

to take ye safely out and bring ye back again, he ll

do it, for neither spirits nor wenches nor gambling games
can seduce him from his post."

Huntingdon smiled.
I know, me lad, it s blarney ye think I m giving ye,
"

but it s
many squadron of blue divvils Irish Hains has
a
seen retreat under full sail before a stiff breeze of

blarney."

As Huntingdon s slim, white clad figure disappeared

down the companion ladder, Hains called out :

And if thim same blue divvils come after ye, seek

"

out Irish Hains, for it s not lonesome ye need to be on

the Nigeria, and don t forget to be after taking your
daily dose of quinine in the morning."

Huntingdon s cabin was stifling after the skipper s

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 47

cool quarters ; the air-chute charmed no breeze from the

humid night, but it brought to Huntingdon the gossip
of the native crewboys who attended their masters pleas
ure. Every little act of the white man was commented
upon, confidential affairs were made public property.
After what seemed an eternity, Huntingdon heard
Boynton take leave of his compagnons de voyage and the
going ashore of the visitors from Sierre Leone, then the

gentle wash of the waters against the Nigeria s side lulled

him to sleep.
 CHAPTER IV

RELUCTANT morning crept forth from a thick haze ;

Sierra Leone sweltered beneath vaporous clouds ; not a
wind stirred, and the heavy, moist heat continued.
By ten o clock coaling was finished hatches were ;

closed ; hung from their davits crewboys

surf boats ;

took their place among the deckers; anchor was pulled,

and without any fuss, the Nigeria was off on the long
trail.

Towards noon, the fog lifted, but the dead calm con
tinued higher and higher climbed the thermometer the
; ;

heat was withering the glare of the sun blinding.

;

A stoker looked out from the shade of the fore peak,

his pale, thin, nervous face contrasting sharply with the

full, black, stolid faces of the deckers, who, under the

pitiless sun, lay in all attitudes of abandon. It was

difficult to tell where one family began and the other

ended, so jumbled together were they, like friendly

cattle. Some slept ; others gazed into space nobody ;

talked ; nobody moved ;

the East knows how to live the
East.

Suddenly, a woman threw off her cotton covering and

stretched herself flat on the deck. Towards the fiery
heavens her face was turned. A spasm of acute pain
wrung her heavy features perspiration streamed from
;

her she dug her nails into the deck she muttered some
; ;

low words ; those nearest her drew away, giving her more

room and then her child was born !

48
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 49

There was no excitement ;

not even comment. Her
own family looked on indifferently for it was Africa
where women are numbered with the beasts.
The mother slept the sleep of exhaustion. Event
ually, she would awake, rub the infant with palm-oil,
hang ju-ju charms about its tender neck, and suckle it,
as beasts suckle their young! No kiss, no caress would
be its
joy no wrapping in soft, protecting cloths no re
; ;

joicing, no christening; no comments by loving relatives

and admiring friends. Unattended it came into the

world, unattended would pass through the world, un

it

attended it would leave the world. Each must fight his

own battle! Woe to the weakling and the timid!
Unlike the foredeck, the upper deck was deserted. It
was suicide for a white man to remain thereon. The
main deck was double-canvased in an attempt to keep
out the sun s blinding glare, and on sunny side cooks
its

mates and galleyboys passed lazily back and forth, in

differently attending to their duties.
A
galleyboy, clad only in trousers, bearing a tureen
of hot soup to the forecastle hands, was bumped into

by a Sierre Leonion cretvboy. The dish crashed to the

deck two scalded, frightened men glared at each other,
;

then came the argument in pidgin English. Each ac

cused the other. Blows were about to descend, when
the Second Officer happened by. The crewboy was
ordered to the forward deck and forbidden to leave it.

The galleyboy was commanded to clean the deck.

He
slouched away, only to slouch back again carry

ing a pail and a mop. Indifferently and indolently he

swabbed the deck, then, with his elbows resting on the
lower rail, he gazed steadfastly at the strip of blinding
50 HELL S PLAYGROUND
silver water athwart his vision. His head dropped to
the scuttle and he slept, to be rudely awakened by the
vicious kick of a passing deck hand, followed by the
sardonic laughter of a big, burly negro who all but dozed
over his task of polishing brass trimmings.
The galleyboy growled ominously, murder looked
from out his eyes, deep set under low brows ; sullenly he
slouched aft where he stopped to tell his troubles to
the Sierre Leone washerman, only to receive another kick
for his pains ; then swearing softly, he disappeared.
To the washerman all clothing looked alike. Coarse,
much-soiled flannels were commingled with fine, fairly
clean white linens. The work was bad, but it was the
only kind available. White men could take it or leave
it; they took it with a curse as they take everything
Africa deals out to them.
Just then tenderfeet were experiencing some of the
phases of hell the old coasters had pictured to them.
Nor were the old coasters exempt from suffering; each
and every man was absolutely miserable, as, on the
shaded side of the main deck, they lay outstretched on
long steamer chairs, unwashed and dishevelled. Heads
ached; throats were parched; eyeballs burned; nerves
were all a-quiver; odors of cooking smote sensitive
nostrils, and nausea hovered over men theretofore

strangers to it. It was the day after the night before

and that night had been a strenuous one. No man s
temperature was normal; movement meant a deluge of
perspiration and there was but one desire: to remain
inert and quaff long, cool drinks.

Very few went below to luncheon and several of those

got but a whiff of the dining-saloon when they scrambled
 51

back to their deck chairs. Stewards were the only ones

with them, and they served drinks eagerly for
life in

they knew their tips would be large.

With the going down of the sun, a slight breeze came
up, and Huntingdon, looking for diversion, went among
the deckers. He paused in amazement before the newly-
born baby ; never, in all his life did he see anything like
it: the tiny, unclothed atom lay on its mother s breast,
pink, wrinkled like a monkey and curled up like one.
His sensitive, refined nature revolted at its treatment ; he

forgot that he had left civilization and its customs far

behind, so he went to his cabin and returned with soft,
white linen and a rich, woolen shawl.

Although he made it clear that the gifts were for the

protection of the baby, the mother smiled broadly ; osten

tatiously she wound the linen about her head, then she
arose, and, keenly alive to the sensations of envy aroused
in her less fortunate sisters, she slowly draped the
magnificent shawl about her hips, tucked the infant in
the front of it and deliberately walked about.
The other women crowded around Huntingdon, and,
thrusting their children at him, demanded gifts in divers
tongues.
Back away, Mr. Huntingdon," called Skipper Hains
"

from the bridge. It s full of contagion every one of

"

them is, annyhow they ve no business to pester ye."

A
withered negro, dressed in a ragged, filthy night
shirt and a disreputable straw hat, complained that he

was sick for belly!

Leave him to me, Mr.
"

Huntingdon," called the skip

be after putting an end to the pestering of
"

per. I ll

ye," and, whistling gayly, the nimble skipper descended

52 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the ladder, sought his quarters and mixed a stiff dose of

capsicum, epsom salts, quinine and rot-gut!

The skipper s whistle gave notice that he was up to
some deviltry and white men came to life and crowded
the main deck forward.
The begging negro was summoned. Explaining to
his brothers the honor conferred on him, with great dig
nity he mounted the ladder, and, at sight of the drink
awaiting him, his face cracked into minute wrinkles of
pleasure, he rubbed his stomach in anticipated delight,
he reached out a hand calloused and wrinkled like a
s.
gorilla
The e} es
r
of the white and the black men were full

upon him ;
the former waiting the amusement sure to be
afforded them, the latter in envy.
The negro took one swallow, then gagged.
"

Down with it, you blue spotted Son of Ham," bel

lowed the skipper, his blue eyes ablaze with laughter, his
arm uplifted as though he would strike the wretch.
Down with
"

yelled old Wallace, while other men,

it,"

both white and black, laughed their keen delight.

The negro reluctantly drank the concoction, his eyes
almost bulging from his head his Adam s apple working
;

riotously up and down his long, shrivelled neck his ;

black, cracked puckered tragically, comically. As

lips
the fiery liquid ate into his alimentary canal, he drew up
his shirt and with both hands violently rubbed his
stomach he stuck out his long tongue he opened and
; ;

closed his eyes vigorously ; from one foot to another he

hopped, then, doubled almost in two, he started for

the ladder. Highly amused and vociferously express
ing that amusement, well-directed kicks from the white
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 53

man sent the negro flying down the ladder to the fore-
deck, where his own
him boisterously and
received

roughly. Thus
did pride precede a humiliating tumble,
but Huntingdon was never again bothered.
The next day the Black Republic of Liberia was left
behind, and, as the Nigeria slowly continued along
Africa s historic coastline, the rollers grew longer and
higher and a mirage off shore and the extraordinary
refraction emphasized all the more the miseries of the

long voyage. Theretofore, the coast had been indis

tinct, blurred, and Huntingdon s romantic mind had pic
tured it mountainous and alluring as at Sierra Leone,
but, alas, it monotonous and low-lying all sea
was flat, ;

level. Four of color paint the picture: one, long

lines

and blue-gray, for the sea over that the snow-white

;

length of surf; then the yellow strip of sand cut off

by the interminable dark green border of the vegetation
from out of which stand the palms, and last above all
the line of the sky s blue.
That was all for weary eyes to look upon day after

day and league after long league The maddening !

monotony and sameness of it all ate into the very soul

of the exiles, and made snarling beasts of them.

Tempers let go, quarrels took place over nothing out ;

rageous slanders were concocted and spread men, who ;

at home fled the house at mere mention of Avash da}r ,

for whole days at a time watched the washerman at his
task, fairly dancing with demoniacal glee when fine

linens came forth scorched and ruined !

Huntingdon swore at the condition of his shirts, he

vowed he would never wear them again, but the wise
cabin steward tucked them away in Huntingdon s kit
54 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and there came a day when Huntingdon was glad to
get them. At night gambling was again indulged in ;

stakes were high, playing reckless. Salaries for years

ahead were anticipated many I. O.
; Us were issued.
Food, too, was monotonous, tasteless and unappetising
and from much drink and little exercise, men took on
flesh rapidly. Huntingdon and Haywood resented their

growing waist lines, but Wallace and Longworthy both

ered about nothing save the slow passing of leaden-heeled
time.
At last Grand Bassam on the Ivory Coast was
sighted,
and, abreast of three miles off shore, the Nigeria cast
it

anchor in a confused sea resembling breakers. Plainly

visible in the offing were the masts of a sunken steamer ;

but the beach was hidden behind a wall of high-leaping

spray and the angry roar of the surf drowned all other
sounds. The Nigeria rocked so like a thing of cork
that the mammy-chair was necessary to convey pas
sengers to the surf boats waiting to receive them. The
chair is a huge palm-oil puncheon, out of which several
staves are sawed and a bottom put to the hole as a seat.
To dangle in it from a crane, with angry seas dancing
far beneath, is an experience dreaded by the bravest.
About Hertford, Kingsford and two other tender-
feet whose destination was reached, old Wallace croaked
like a bird of evil on the pleasures of the descent of
the mammy-chair; the treachery of the seas ; the hunger
of the watchful sharks, and the yellow fever of a partic

ularly virulent type prevalent in Grand Bassam.

Despite the terrors awaiting and the dangers threaten
ing him, Huntingdon could no longer endure the confine
ment of the ship. He must have change even though it
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 55

led to his death. Old Wallace did his best to dissuade

him from seeking that surf-menaced, dangerous shore,

but Huntingdon was obdurate. When with a thud the
mammy-chair dropped to the deck, he was the first one
to step into it.

Hertford and two other tenderfeet followed, then

came the braggart, Kingsford, taking care to sandwich
himself securely between the others.

Good-by, good health and good

"

luck," had been

repeated over and over again, and Kingsford had just
broken forth in blustering bravado :

"

Now to show these old croaks that we ain

the jelly t

fish they think us. I ain t seen anything yet that can
bowl me over. Let er when with a sudden jerk,
,"

up and out, shot the mammy-chair.

The breath left Huntingdon s lungs ; his eyes, ter
ror-widened, gazed down upon heaving depths and bob
bing surf boats, oh, so far away It didn t seem pos !

sible for the chair to connect with the boats, and hungry

blue sharks were everywhere !

However, he clung fast to the chair and did his best

to retain his breakfast. To
give up food before that
jeering, onlooking crowd, was the epitome of agony.
Then, as if the crowd were waiting for that very thing,
up floated Wallace s command :

"

Let er go, boys ;

don t mind us. You ll feel better

if you give up we re here to be amused we need it

; ; ;

we re rotting away for want of it; don t be stingy, give

up!"

A from the fore-peak shouted sarcastically

stoker :

Ah, hold on t yer guts, you coves

"

Don t enter !

Hell s Playground showin white livers."

56 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Young Hertford, up in the air, tortured beyond en
durance, essayed to jump from the chair, but again came
the stoker s voice :

"

Set down, you fool, or you ll never git a chance to

set down again."

A white-clad, white-faced creature wobbled uncer

tainly and began to wretch.
It was Kingsford.
Wallace danced with glee and shouted :

"Aha, how s the jellyfish now; gwan, give up, the

sharks re hungry !
"

All this time a black man stood with signalling arm

erect,watching for the surf boat to come up on the
swelland ready to signal the man at the donkey-winch
when the proper time for lowering came !

At last his arm dropped !

As suddenly as the chair had shot up and out,

abruptly and swiftly, it descended as a thing dragged

down by relentless fate. Huntingdon very s vitals

heaved convulsively ;
then there were a collision, a
dump
ing into a narrow, unsteady space, a jangle, a pull, a

shooting upward and away of the chair, a tossing, pitch

ing surf boat and white men half dead with fright and

unmistakably seasick were afloat upon an undulating,

blinding sea, huddled on the thwarts of a rudder canoe
between two banks of native paddlers perched on the
gunwales like women on side-saddles !

As the shore was approached, the roar of the surf in

creased in volume and waves fought each other like

angry beasts, sending up a wall of spray which seemed

impenetrable. In the breakers, contending, unseen forces
seized the canoe and tried to tear her from the restrain-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 57

ing hands of the paddlers, but without avail, and fright

ened, sea-drenched white men crawled on the backs of
negroes and were landed on the beach out of harm s way.
Huntingdon gazed upon the Nigeria, oh, so far away,
and he felt suddenly and strangely desolate He !

wanted to board her again, and at once he had no ;

desire for exercise or to explore Grand Bassam Sol !

emnly he took leave of the others there was no rancor

;

then between him and Kingsford, oh, no Africa was a

!

hard life, the climate deadly it was certain that some,

;

perhaps all, of them would never again climb a ship s

side on a return voyage Huntingdon demanded to be
!

at once taken off to the Nigeria.

The rudder canoe lay well up in the sand and Hunt
ingdon recognized at once that to launch her was no
easy task. He wondered how the Krus and the Acer as
would go about it.

The Kru who had borne him to shore, again took him
on his back and stowed him in the center and bottom of
the canoe then paddlers and beachmen ranged them
;

selves on either side of the canoe, grasping the thwarts

well down, ready to lift the boat out of her sand-dock and
shove her off at a favorable opportunity. Hunting
don marveled further how any human being dare enter
those breakers, let alone attempt to land and take away
men and cargo ! He knew full well what the paddlers
were watching and waiting for; that they could not set
forth at will, they must await the inrolling of a favor
able swell.
Now that danger was at hand, fear fled from the white
man ; he watched wave after wave come in and break with

deafening noise and astounding fury, nor did he mind

58 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the spray that drenched him. He was a sportsman,
keen for the fray It was human ingenuity versus im
!

personal but powerful opponents. The rapidly reced

ing sand and the explosion and spray revealed the tre
mendous force of the undercurrents, and over Hunting
don rushed ardent admiration for the Portuguese, who
in the fourteenth century braved that coast and left
their traces in the whitewashed forts and little dreary
towns that now and then break the weary monotony of
the horizon line. Huntingdon recalled how European
colonization followed the trader, and he paid full trib
ute to those early men pirates, brigands and slave-

dealers though they were who had

the courage to

defy treacherous seas, hostile natives and the all-blasting

sun !

A favorable swell came rolling in. The Krus took

a firmer hold on the thwarts and braced themselves for
quick action. At the rudder in the stern stood the cox

swain, his body bent forward, his eyes narrowed and

set like a vulture s making ready for sudden descent

upon its prey.

On and on came the roller, growing in height and vol
ume The eye of every black man was upon it
! It was !

a canoe length away It rushed under the nose of the

!

canoe The canoe was mounting its ridge, when a quick

!

command fell from the lips of the coxswain His knees !

and hands gripped the tiller! Beachmen and paddlers

gave a mighty shove The canoe was afloat on the ex
!

pended wave Simultaneously, so as not to overbalance

!

the boat, every paddler leaped to his seat on the gun

wale, his back to the prow beachmen scrambled back
;

to shore through the turbulent eddies, and, aided by a

 HELL S PLAYGROUND . 59

peculiar sculling motion of the paddles, the coxswain

dexterously kept the nose of the canoe seaward.
The backward pull of the undercurrents became
manifest and Huntingdon wondered why the coxswain
restrained his men instead of urging them forward, but
he did not wonder long, for, in the space where they
would have been had they dashed forward, a tremendous
wave broke and it was all the black men could do to
keep the canoe from spinning about and capsizing.
Huntingdon ducked under the thwart when the roller
broke, but not a black man changed his position their ;

eyes were intent on the coxswain who was eagerly study

ing the incoming seas.
One, two, minutes passed.
five, ten They seemed
an eternity to Huntingdon and he marveled how the
strength of the blacks held out. Nor was he the only
anxious one. Better than he the natives knew the
treachery of the surf which girds their country like an
almost impenetrable wall and of the heavy annual toll
in human lives exacted by it ;
the millions of pounds

sterling lost in cargo.

Suddenly, another quick command fell from the cox
swain s lips there was another display of prompt, con
;

certed action again the canoe shot forward, then was

;

checked, then urged forward again. An expert oars

man himself, Huntingdon recognized full well what fin
ished art it was to coddle and coax a canoe beyond the
danger line of undertow and breakers.
The open sea was gained, and, back and forth as
one man, flashed the blades of the paddlers. Their
stroke was rhythmic, effective, and the canoe fairly
leaped forward under its impetus. The white-topped
60

rollers came and went, now long, now short as the canoe

took swell after swell and rode them gracefully to the

next ridge here and there a porpoise leaped high, and
;

off to the south a whale blowed.

The sun shone brilliantly upon the nude backs of
the paddlers and threw into bold relief a magnificent

display of muscles developed to the highest perfection.

Not an ounce of energy was misspent nor did paddling
;

seem an effort, as, lightly balanced on the gunwales and

with no purchase save that afforded by their cross-locked

legs, the paddlers swayed back and forth, gracefully and

easily, their guttural r-r-r-r-r s keeping time with their

stroke.
The team work was superb and to Huntingdon an
international regatta at Henley seemed amateurish in

comparison. Huntingdon fully comprehended why

those mighty Neptunes were the backbone of the white
man trade in Africa and, as his eyes and close watch
s

ing showed his admiration, the paddlers smiled like

pleased children, exposing white, perfect teeth.
The Nigeria reached, Huntingdon lightly leaped from
the bobbing canoe into the mammy-chair. The latter
held no terror for him then ; he was all enthusiasm and
he explained to Longworthy, Wallace and Haywood
that such an exhibition of expert canoe-handling was
well worth any fear he had felt or danger he had en
countered.
The coxswain was given two guineas by Huntingdon
for himself and his men, and loud and hearty were the
thanks which floated up to the Nigeria.
The next day while Skipper Hains slept, a Kru
and an Accra got into a fight. They pommelled each
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 61

other lively before the First Mate could have them

separated and cast into the hatch until such time as

the skipper could administer punishment. It was nearly
half a day later when Hains, clad in fresh whites, and
armed with a short cashing-go, 1 descended to the fore-
deck.
The whole ship was excited. While the exiles would
have welcomed any diversion however slight, a fight
was something they never dreamed of and because it
was at hand, they crowded forward for coigns of ad
vantage. Huntingdon and old Wallace succeeded in
throwing their legs over the ship s railing upon which
they climbed, while at their backs were Longworthy and
Haywood. The forecastle head was filled with pushing
stokers and deck hands, and the excited, jabbering
deckers were thrust back to make room for the com
batants.
The sudden change from the gloomy depths of the
hatch to blinding daylight was too much for them.
They clapped their hands over their eyes and uncertain
were their legs. They were a sorry sight, too, covered
with blood, grease and perspiration.

Flecking his cashing-go across their calves in a man

ner which caused the wretches to wince, the skipper
demanded the cause of the palaver.
"

Them Acca stole my woman

last night and I never

look um," complained the Kru, in a deep voice with

murder in it.

Loud and ribald was the laughter of the white men,

echoed by the deckers.
1
Whip of hippopotamus hide.
62 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"Silence!" roared Skipper Hains. "Accra, make
answer !
"

"

Me, him woman. Woman look me.

I never look

Me, I never mek mouth

came the vigorous denial. so,"

You re a liar
"

old Wallace began to shout, but

"

the skipper s voice drowned his words :

Don t you sons of Ham savvy fight-palaver ain t

"

permitted on any ship?

"

There was no response from the culprits, but white

men wiggled and chortled, deckers grunted, children

giggled and a woman laughed shrilly and unmusically.

It was she who was the cause of the disturbance.
"

Answer," commanded the skipper in an awful voice,

"

don t
you savvy fighting s against ship s rules?
"

The heads of the two culprits nodded a reluctant

"

yes."

So ye do, d ye? Well, now your punishment for

"

disobedience. Here you and the skipper summoned "

a deck hand who carried a lump of waste. Rub the "

stinking grease off them niggers and let em stand up

and fight each other proper."
The deck hand set to, but he was too slow for the
vigorous Irishman. Hains grabbed a piece of waste,
and, throwing it to Sampson, a powerful Km, he yelled:
"

Get off them grease one time, Sampson. I ve got

other fish to fry than settling palavers for black pip
pins."

The
cleaning process was anything but gentle, and
everybody enjoyed it except the sufferers.
Skipper Hains laid down the rules.
At each other fair and square and fight
"

it out. No
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 63

kicking or punching. The first man who fouls I ll

kick hell out of. Now go !

"

Unaccustomed to fair fight, the negroes fouled re

peatedly. The skipper cut in with his cashing-go, leav

ing welts and bruises behind.
Suddenly the Accra s knee shot upwards and with
tremendous force was driven into the Kru s groin.
Down dropped the Kru with a frightful cry of acute
pain !

The cowardly thrust enraged the white men. "

Give
him hell, Skipper, give him hell," yelled Huntingdon.
But the skipper needed no prompting. He beat the
Accra unmercifully; he called him swine and all the
choice words included in his vociferous vocabulary he ;

felled him, then kicked him to his feet.

Sampson helped the Kru to arise ; again the negroes

faced each other and the skipper commanded :

One more round and it s to be the finish this time

"

and no more fouling, savvy?

"

For several solemn seconds the Kru and the Accra

studied each other. Murder was in their pose and both
were suffering visibly. The Kru s left eye was swollen
shut and blood was trickling down the Accra s throat
where the cashing-go bit. Their powerful chests heaved
like hard-worked bellows and their big nostrils dilated

rapidly as air was pumped into exhausted lungs. Their

wind gained, the skipper thundered:
"

GO !
"

With lowered heads and like enraged bulls the men

sprang for each other; each clutched the other s neck
and head butted head viciously. No other than a
negro s could have withstood the pounding. Eyes were
64 HELL S PLAYGROUND
bruised; noses flattened; the Kru s upper teeth cut
through his lip; the Accra s chin went in and the hot
blood spurted forth in sticky streams.
White and black men yelled with glee all were on :

a level now savages clamoring for blood.

The skipper tried to separate the combatants.
"Let em alone, Skipper!" came from Huntingdon.
too pretty a sight to shut off
"

It s cried Haywood. !
"

"

Let it be to a finish yelled Longworthy. !

"

"

At him, you Kru! commanded old Wallace. "

"

Come on, you Accra! urged Cartwright, there " "

lots of fight yet in both of you !

"

The heads of the negroes were pressed so closely

together that cheek bruised cheek, blood commingled

with blood, and there was no chance for butting. Sud
denly, the fingers of the Accra closed on the Kru s wind
pipe!
Again the skipper fury was great; repeatedly on
s

the Accra s head his cashing-go descended but the Accra

continued to choke the Kru until he had him flat on the
deck !

At the foul act, white men cried their indignation :

"

Kill him, Skipper, kill the brute

"

Huntingdon led the descent to the foredeck deckers ;

pushed and crowded trampled children screamed with

;

fright the excitement was terrific

; !

Mr. Whiting, clear the deck

"

!
"

came the skipper s

stentorian command.
"

McGrew, Kinney, Sampson, the Kru, clear the

deck !
"

ordered Whiting, grabbing a chair and break

ing it over the heads of the deckers nearest him while ;

McGrew laid on with a piece of cable ; Sampson used

 65

his mighty fists, and the skipper faced the white men
and in a low tone said:
"

Back to your deck, gentlemen ;

this is no example
"

to set to negroes !

The white men

slowly obeyed, and the skipper cried :

"

To the hatch with the Accra! Nothing to eat until

Lagos, then ashore with him never again to be taken
aboard an Elder-Dempster boat."
The Kru lay unconscious in a pool of blood his eyes ;

stared; his tongue hung out, lacerated by his teeth, and

his facewas pulp. Dr. Young, the ship s surgeon, ad
vised sending him to the forecastle. A steamer chair
was folded, the wounded man was placed thereon and
borne forward, followed by the doctor and the skipper.
The deckers were wrought to a high pitch of ex
citement; they gesticulated wildly, and, in a babel of
dialects, some denounced the Accra, others accused the
Kru.
Hay wood, the military man, was alert. If the Kru
were killed, he feared a tribal riot blood for blood is
the universal law of the savages ;
no death goes un
avenged.
In a low voice he expressed his fears to those about
him:
"

Should these black devils range themselves against

us, we white men will be powerless. Stay you here
while I descend among the deckers and under no con
sideration appear to notice me or follow me. I don t
like the actions of those two big Krus down there; if

their brother dies, and I fear he will, and the news should
leak out, the Krus will demand the life of the Accra
and then there ll be hell to pay !
"
66 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Every white man recognized the gravity of the situa

tion, and, as Haywood lazily descended among the

deckers and carelessly edged himself between the two

burly Krus, white men were apparently engaged in de

sultory conversation, yet their every sense was alert and
each regretted his firearms packed safely away in the
hold !

Hay wood s suspicions were confirmed ;

the Krus in

their own dialect were discussing the serious condition of

their brother and one of them threatened to get the
Accra at the first opportunity.
There was only one thing to do to notify the skipper ;

to keep the Kru s condition a secret !

Slowly towards the forecastle Haywood advanced, but

directly in his path was a tall, stately Mohammedan,
who was evidently the leader of his party.
Huntingdon attempted to pass him by, but the fellow
kept his stand.
Haywood was amazed. Did the Mohammedan divine
his Did he belong to the same secret society
purpose?
as a society of murderers, cruel and vin
the Krus,

dictive, dreaded alike by white men and black men?

The situation was indeed serious.
Like a flash carelessness fell from Haywood, he was
the soldier, imperious and dauntless.
"

Stand aside !
"

came his military command.

The Mohammedan moved not, but from out his ghostly
wrappings a long arm crept slowly, and majestically
pointed towards the west.
Every eye followed that gesture.
In the intensely blue vault of the sky a well-defined
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 67

and regular arch of dark clouds was forming about

a dense white one !

Every decker, sailor and old coaster knew what that

meant !

A tornado !

The fight was forgotten !

Men scrambled for shelter !

Gusts of wind swept the ship !

There came swift, sharp detonations of thunder, and

streams of acute lightning, increasing in volume and

activity.
Bending low to combat the wind, the skipper hurriedly
crossed the foredeck and mounted the ladder to the
bridge, crying his commands as he went. Canvases
were furled and the Nigeria was brought almost to
anchor, her prow towards the tornado. Wind, lightning
and seas battled for hours, then came the calm, followed
by a deluge of rain. It was just such another storm
as had been experienced off Sierra Leone, but the long,
monotonous voyage had prepared the tenderfeet for
almost anything.

Huntingdon went below to dress for dinner, but the

smell of the close ship brought on mal-de-mer. He
hastily donned a great rain coat, and, pulling a soft hat
over his eyes, he sought the deck.
In the gangway he ran into the Jakri and upset her.
He helped her up, intending to release her immediately,
but the rocking of the ship caused him to hold her close
in his arms so as to keep his balance.
"

Mr. Huntingdon want me? coaxed the

"

girl, allur

ingly, smiling into the white man s face and pressing her
68 HELL S PLAYGROUND
slim body close against his. A wave of cheap cologne
assailed Huntingdon s nostrils. Roughly he set the
girl on her feet, and hurried above.

Exerting all his strength, he pushed open the great

storm door and stepped onto the deck. Suddenly, the
door banged shut behind him leaving him at the mercy
of the tornado. His hat was snatched from his head
and sent sailing through space and his coat flapped
angrily about him. The night was as dark as Erebus;
wind and rain held sway and the deck Avas deserted,
drenched and slippery. He turned to go in, but a
severe gust of wind sent him spinning down the deck
and brought him hard against the taffrail. It was a
wonder he was not propelled overboard. Instead, he
dropped into the scupper where he lay pelted by rain,
washed by heavy seas and tortured by blinding lightning.
He knew he must at once make an effort to return
below. Holding tight to the rail, he forced himself to
his feet and was conscious of acute pain in his right
hand. With his head bent almost to his knees he tried

to grope his way across the deck, but the wind again
blew him off his feet and inrushing seas again swept
him into the scupper. On his hands and knees and dig
ging his finger nails into the deck he slowly crawled
to the door; he pulled with all his might, but could not
open it.

Wind, rain and lightning continued to torture him and

death threatened. He determined to make for the skip
per quarters, but a glance in that direction revealed
s

an exposed stretch of deck over which the wind blew

so violently that it were folly to attempt to combat it !

There was nothing to do but to tackle the door again.

 69

He strained, he pulled, he tugged! The pain in his

hand was intensified, and the warm blood trickled forth.

He was drenched to the skin and miserably seasick ! He
must get the door open !

He grabbed the knob in both hands, and, planting his

feet firmly against the under sill, he pulled steadily.
Suddenly, the door shot open, and, had he not been pre
pared, he would again have gone spinning down the
deck.
After the fresh night air, the smell of the close ship
enhanced his but pressing his lips hard
seasickness,

together he forced himself below to Dr. Young s cabin.

There was a hesitancy about opening the door; Dr.
Young was visibly embarrassed, and a red Kwitta cloth
showed from under the berth. Huntingdon recognized
it worn by the Jakri, but he said nothing.
as the cloth
Dr. Young reported no bones broken, and, care
fully cleansing and dressing the hand, he went into a
long description about the care of wounds in the tropics.
They heal slowly ; sometimes never ; infection has to be

guarded every possible manner; he advised

against in
washes of permanganate of potassium.
Did Huntingdon know of the great danger of guinea
worm in unboiled, unfiltered drinking water? Of the

agony its removal entailed? Of the slow recovery of

the patient, of his frequent death?
Did Huntingdon know about prickly heat? Of the

prevalence of
smallpox, syphilis? fatality of The
blackwater fever? The increasing deaths from sleep
sickness? The danger from mosquito and jigger bites?
The constant menace from serpents and wild animals?
Yes, Huntingdon had been warned of all those things
70 HELL S PLAYGROUND
by Wallace. That old croak had dwelt so long and lov
ingly upon the pleasures (?) in store for tenderfeet
that every one of them, Huntingdon not excepted,
had, at one time or other, imagined himself already a
corpse !

"

The reason old Wallace and some more old coasters

have escaped,"
went on the doctor, "

is because even
when drunk they never neglect their daily dose of qui
nine they never sleep without a mosquito bar they
; ;

avoid drafts; they have all foliage cut away from their
living quarters ; they drink only boiled water ; they al

low no water thrown about; they don t permit natives

to prepare chop in their utensils. Self-preservation s
a habit with them. Cultivate the habit yourself, and

you pull through all right.

ll Africa s
pretty bad, yet
prevention and care do wonders."

Slowly the red cloth was being withdrawn under the

berth, and, when it was no longer visible, Dr. Young was
greatly relieved, and, although he gave Huntingdon no
chance to say anything, he talked less rapidly.
You know, dear old chap, that malaria s hell and
"

itattacks the weakest part of the constitution you must ;

protect your ankles wear mosquito boots all the time.

;

Any man who don guard against malaria

t that is

the mosquito is a fool and the sooner the world is

rid of him, the better for the world. Every day at four
o clock have your boy put down your mosquito bar;
make him tuck it under the mattress, not let it hang on
the floor; scrub out dark corners at least once a month
with Jeyesfluid. See that your bathing water s clean ;

and when you tramp through swamps, wear good, thick

canvas leggings to avoid craw-crate; it s also hell
 71

comes infernally itchy, but if you scratch

in sores ;

there s danger of infection from your nails. Nearly all

natives have craw-craw and their quarters are beds of

contagion ;
Natives never isolate any infec
avoid them.
tious diseases and they d rather hide lepers and sleep
sickness patients than deliver them to the governments
for treatment it s a wonder to me a plague don t break
;

out over Africa and communicate itself to Europe

all

but on second thought, that s not likely, for the vultures

eat the dead well, hand s in as fine a shape as I can
put it come in to-morrow and I ll dress it again, and
to-night better take about twenty grains of quinine
and in the morning some fruit salts !
"

He bowed Huntingdon out.

"

The chortled Huntingdon.

old fool," I wouldn t
"

care a rap if he had the whole Jaltr i tribe of girls under

his bunk !
"

The Km died during the night. So secretly was

he immediately consigned to the sea s depths that his
death did not become generally known until after the
Accra had been delivered to the British authorities at

Lagos.
In the meantime, the rain continued, the fog horn
tooted ominously, and seas were hostile. Axim, Se-
kondi, Cape Coast Castle, Accra and Lagos were left
behind. The mammy-chair ceased to amuse, men were
losing heart for jest, final partings were near. Al
ready the company was noticeably smaller and men were
depressed almost beyond endurance. The epitome of
misery was reached the night before Fo^ados.
The white men were gathered in the dining-saloon ;

silent and retrospective they leaned on the tables or else

72 HELL S PLAYGROUND
lounged on divans. Neither gambling nor intoxicants
brought any relief from the insistence of the maddening

present.
A white-clad, pale-faced steward sauntered slowly to
the piano. Other times he had been eagerly importuned
for music, but not so now ; men were too far in the depths
to do aught but gaze steadfast at the four walls of
and wish for the end of the
their little floating world

voyage.
Listlessly the steward seated himself at the piano and
his fingers wandered idly over the keys. His raised
eyes encountered a closed port against which the sea
broke violently. From the instrument there came an
improvisation echoing the night wind and the sobbing
sea deep thunder, too, rolled forth and died away
;

then, evidently following the trend of the player s

longing, came the piano s wail :

Be it ever so humble, there s no place like home!

The music was but a whisper, but it fell like mighty
hammer strokes on quivering, sensitive hearts
Midst pleasures and palaces
Men listened in silence
Wherever I roam
At
heart-strings tugged longings so acute as to be
torture
Be it ever so humble
The notes came slowly, softly, tremulously drawn
out
There
s no place
Then
the crescendo of anguish was reached and the

piano sobbed:
like home!
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 73

It was too much to ask men to bear, too much ! In

a hoarse voice Haywood cried:
"

For Christ s sake, man, something else, something

else!"

Yes, anything else but Home Sweet Home, that heart

rending reminder of other times, other places anything ;

elsebut that awakener of remorse, regret!

Berths were sought, not for sleep, but to think, to
go back over Time s pages while regret wailed dismally
and persistently : Too late, too late!

kL;
And first, within the porch and jaws of Hell,
Sat deep Remorse of Conscience, all besprent
With tears; and to herself oft would she tell
Her wretchedness, and, cursing, never stent
To sob and sigh, but ever thus lament
With thoughtful care; as she that, all in vain,
Would wear and waste continually in pain.

SteS?*
Her eyes unsteadfast, rolling here and there,
Whirled on each place, as place that vengeance brought;
So was her mind continually in fear,
Tost and tormented with the tedious thought
Of those detested crimes which she had wrought;
With dreadful cheer, and looks thrown to the sky,
Wishing for death, and yet she could not die.
SACKVILLE.

While Huntingdon s thoughts never once dwelt on

death as a release from the present, yet with all his heart
and soul he wished the long voyage would end with sun
rise ;
but he knew how many more leagues had to be
traversed before Cape Lopez was reached and he reso
lutely made up his mind to endure.

However, there were two men on the Nigeria who did

not to seem to mind the horrors of the night. They were
74

Dr. Young and Cartwright who threw dice until sun

rise. Young lost every cent he possessed and more, for
which he made out an I. O. U. with a heavy sigh.
"

I
pretty m
hard hit myself, old man," Cartwright
consoled I haven t got a clear quid coming to me for
"

months, but, I say, gimme the Jakri and we ll call it

square."

Right you are, old man, she s yours, but watch her
"

you can t trust a native woman out of your sight."

Dead slow, on the full, morning tide, the flat-bot
tomed Nigeria steamed through a mud-colored lagoon,
shut in all around with mangroves and inhabited by
crocodiles and hippopotami. Infinitely depressing was
the heavy moisture, and, as the steamer progressed, a

part of the dark wall seemed rather to recede than an

opening to be disclosed and there was Foi^ados a few
:

old hulks lying low in the water, a sad-looking light

house and several tin-roofed bungalows erected on low
piles !

The place seemed the end of the earth and simply

reeked with flatness and everlasting dreariness. Yet
Fo^ados River is one of the myriad mouths of the
great Niger, that river of wealth and treachery so
dreaded by white men. Many of their number have
embarked thereon, and few, pitifully few have returned,
and those who have, bear for all eternity on their
pinched faces the pallor and the weariness with which
Africa marks her victim. In the delta dug-out canoes
drift past and a few naked aborigines disclose themselves
on the bank, their neighborhood already betrayed by the
empty gin bottles which lie in the slime among the gaunt
roots of the depressing mangroves. The river itself is
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 75

very wide and pea-soup in color ;

when a crocodile slides

hideously into its hiding depths, or a fall of mud dis

turbs it, the splash is of some liquid more dense than

water, and a swirling but no light ripples follow the

disturbance. Always the river looks evil, secretive,
treacherous.
And it was up this River of Hell that Longworthy
and Cartwright were bound. The exiles felt the tragedy
of it all, and midst solemn silence the departing white
men took their places in the launch that was to take
them to Burutu, where the little paddle-stern wheeler
awaits Niger passengers.
The Mohammedans, who were bound for Ada on the

River, Longworthy s Yoruba and Cartwright s Jakri

were also in the launch, and the only sound that broke
the brooding stillness was the puffing of the engine and
the gay good-bys the departing women called to the
Yoruba of Haywood.
In silence Huntingdon, old Wallace and Haywood
watched the launch until she was out of sight. Certes
itwas, the same body of men would travel together never

again, never again !

The next day at Calabar, in Southern Nigeria, Hay-

wood and old Wallace were left behind, and to Hunt
ingdon the steamer seemed a house of dead from which
loved ones had departed forever. But many and reiter
ated were the promises to write to each other, and Hunt

ingdon found cheer in the thought of such letters.

The Nigeria continued her way in a sea of haze,

smokes offshore completely blotting out the offing and
the heat daily increasing as the equator was approached.
The German Cameroons was left behind, and off Libre-
76 HELL S PLAYGROUND
ville,the capital of the Congo Franfais, the Nigeria
anchored only long enough to discharge cargo then the
;

equator was crossed, the rain ceased, and at four o clock

on a brilliant afternoon in June Cape Lopez hove in

sight, a glittering streak of sand, dotted here and there

with low buildings set against a background of dense
bush. The
long, tedious voyage was ended and Hunt
ingdon was truly thankful. Resolutely he put all un
pleasant memories behind him and he turned to Cape
Lopez and the future.
 CHAPTER V
THE anchor was overboard and Skipper Hains cried:
"

It s theend of the earth ye might as well be, me

lad, as far s life s concerned here and ye ll grow rusty
unless ye look sharp. And if it s a bit o advice I
might be after giving ye, don t ye mind gossip, keep
away from the wenches, attend to your own affairs and
get out of the bally country as soon as ye can and
be remembering, me lad, that Irish Hains is your friend,
come what will ; he s Irish and he
poor, save in good
s

wishes to his friends and he knows the meaning of

the word friend, don be after forgetting that ayther."
t

Huntingdon grasped the honest fellow s browned

hand, but he could thank him, the skipper was peer
e er

ing through his glasses, and, focusing them on shore, he

espied two canoes putting out from the English trading
houses of John Holt and Hatton and Cookson.
"

Moore s in Cookson s gig, and Smithson, the man

you re to replace, s got a white man
is in the other; he
with him, but he must be a newcomer. He s unknown to
me but you can bet on it he s a Britisher for the
English and the French don t mix well."

The contrast in the three white men who came up the

Nigeria s ladder was great. Smithson and Moore were
in white, the third man was in kakhi. Smithson was
slight, highly nervous, rather refined and young. Moore
was likewiseyoung, but he was tall and raw-boned, with
77
78 HELL S PLAYGROUND
a huge calabash pipe in a slit of a mouth. He walked
with a swagger as confidential as John Bull s own and
his fists with their great, bony knuckles looked as though

they could hit. Both men were pale, startlingly so,

while the third man was round, rosy, chubby, jolly and
all motion. He looked and acted like a school boy out
for a lark.
"

Thanks, Mr. Huntingdon," said he, Sadler by name,

for landing on the beach and removing from me the
"

stigma of tenderfoot. I ve been out six months. I m

skipper of the Oka. She s a little Ogowe river steamer

belonging to John Holt. The jolly show s broke down

and I m living with Smithson until repairs are made.
Only Nick himself knows how long that ll be. Noth
old

ing moves out here. You ll get so rotten sick of the

moth-eaten country that you ll
punch niggers just for
excitement."

Sadler was a tonic. Both Skipper Hains and Hunt

ingdon were attracted to him.
Skipper Hains blue eyes danced, and he said :

Ah, Skipper Sadler, it s us old seadogs that can

"

top these landlubbers every time. It s a self-appointed

guarjian I ve been to Mr. Huntingdon. Now I appoint
ye my successor. If he don t do what s right, be after

telling me when I come back, and achune us we ll con

coct his punishment."
The skipper ordered champagne.
"

Vivre la France, pomme-de-terre-frit," cried Moore.

"It s no toast like that I ll be drinking," objected
Skipper Hains.
"

To Ireland, God bless her !

"

"

And to
England added Huntingdon. !
"

"

Chin, chin came the hearty chorus.

!
"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 79

Be good and God bless

"

Hains cried as the gigs ye,"

made for the shore. Then he was heard to bellow :

Sampson, make them polka dotted sons of Ham get

"

cargo one time, or I ll

"

off

Over Cape Lopez brooded dreariness, silence and

sloth. There wasn t a native canoe in sight, nor was
there any landing pier. The sea beat monotonously

upon a barren beach, piled here and there with immense

logs awaiting shipment to Europe.
"

Behold your mansion," little Sadler shouted at Hunt

ingdon, indicating a wooden bungalow set high on piles
and surrounded by a great veranda. And that long "

shed there just south of it s the trading factory. Wel

come to your domain, O, Great White King," and the
little skipper salamed in a truly comical manner.
On the veranda, furnished with dilapidated steamer
chairs and a much-scarred table, were the servants.
"

Come forth, you King of Pots and Pans, you De-

spoiler of Food, you Mixer of Dirt, you Handler of
Secret Poisons, you Unwashed Chef, come forth Few-
Clothes and greet your new master, the Great White

King."

A Bantu race gingerly ad

villainous specimen of the
vanced. He was
and thin and wriggled like a snake.
tall

He wore old khaki trousers and a very much soiled old

white duck coat, minus buttons. Craft and cunning
were written all over his brutal, repulsive face. He was
uncomfortable in clothing and Huntingdon concluded
he seldom wore any.
"

Master, I pleased to look you,"

he said in guttural
tones, his restless eyes on Sadler s fists.
"

Down on your knees, you cannibal, you scum of hell,

80 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and greet the Great White King proper," the little
or "

skipper bellowed in tones worthy of Captain Hains,

I ll and the wag brought his fist against the palm
"
of
hishand with a resounding whack.
Few-Clothes fairly grovelled at Huntingdon s feet

and shouted:
"

Good night, Master, Great White King, I pleased

to look you."

Sadler gave the fellow a vicious kick and told him to

l
be off and ready one time."
"

get chop
"

Now Ngumbe," Sadler continued,

"

no chimpanzee
tricks, or I ll bind you hand and foot and feed you to
the drivers. 2 This is Ngumbe, O Great White King,
the houseboy and next in importance after Chef Few-
Clothes. He s maid of all work, the guardian of your
kit, and the greatest liar and thief unhamstrung."

Ngumbe was about eighteen years of age, lithe and

supple as a sapling, wearing his indifferent white ducks
easily and well. He bowed low and gracefully and said
in round, full, clear, pleasing tones :

Good
evening, Master Huntingdon, Great White
"

King, Ngumbe, houseboy to Master Smithson, look

you with pleasure for him eye you be proper white man, ;

proper master."

Be he thief, liar, flatterer, or any other detestable

thing, Huntingdon liked the boy s appearance; he

opined that he had grown up in the service of white
men and was thoroughly familiar with their ways.
Of the three remaining sennteurs Sadler said :

Them be jack-wash, cook s-mate, and that

grinning
ape s
Mbega, raw material just from the bush and boy
i Food. 2 Carnivorous ants.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 81

for you, O Great White King. You ll have a picnic

training him, but if you don t want the job, I ll do it

for you."
The boys grovelled in turn, and Mbega, young, tall,
thin and awkward, wearing only an old loin cloth and
ju-ju charms entwined with his scapulars, grinned a
most prodigious grin exposing teeth the envy of the
most expert dentist who ever lived.
Sunlight, where s Sunlight Sadler then bellowed.
" "

a deep voice spoke quietly and a big

"

I live, Master,"

savage stepped on to the veranda.

Me boy, O Great White King. He s black as the
"

shades of hell so I named him Sunlight."

Sunlight bore himself with the case and grace of an

untamed thing accustomed to freedom and untrammelled
space. But with the sublime was mingled the ridiculous.
Over a loin cloth he wore a cast-off khaki coat of his
master so small and tight that it drew back his shoulders,
restricted the free use of his arms and exposed a power
ful chest, the envy of the athletic Huntingdon. He
looked stolidly at Huntingdon and muttered something
in his native tongue. He could not speak English.
1
"

Dee sous," said Sadler laconically, sprawling in a

chair and extending his chubby feet. Solemnly and
deliberately the savage removed Sadler s boot and
stocking and with a great knife carefully dug out the
jigger.
Drinks were ordered of Ngumbe, and Smithson took
Huntingdon within to show him the bungalow.
It consisted of a great dining- and living-room with
bedrooms leading off from either side. Ragged, grass
1 Local name for
jigger.
82 HELL S PLAYGROUND
mats were strewn on the rough, unclean plank floor a ;

crude sideboard stood with feet in tins of oil and water ;

open doors and yawning drawers disclosed odds and

ends of men s apparel melanged with catsup, mustard
and tobasco sauce bottles, corkscrews and drinking
glasses. The carpet was the saddest looking
settee

implement of unrest eyes ever saw the flat-topped desk ;

with pigeonholes up the back was littered with, and

jammed papers the crude dining table and chairs

full of, ;

were survivals of the fittest for many a scar they bore.

Bedrooms contained the scantiest of crude furniture ;

beds were draped in enormous mosquito bars ; tin trunks,

resting on split glass bottles, were piled one on the other,

and soiled and torn clothing lay just where their wearers
had flung them.
Huntingdon never before beheld such a drab, un
cleanly, depressing, human habitation. There was not
one redeeming feature, one gentle touch showing that
civilized men dwelt therein. Huge spider webs and mud-
houses of wasps were everywhere and the very air
reeked with squalor and poverty. It was a sharp, cruel
contrast to the exquisite, harmonious environment in
which he was reared, and he determined to change every
thing when he was in full charge.
Left alone with Moore on the veranda, little Sadler
cried :

I m for him," and he jerked his thumb towards the

"

bungalow. As a rule I m not keen on aristocrats, but

"

you just can t help liking this Huntingdon."

"

A bally fool you made of yourself and him calling

him Great White King," Moore sneered.
"

Well, if you looked as much of a king as he does,

 83

you d wear a crown and be so rotten tyrannical there d

be no living with you. Gad, but he s a one-time winner !

He s the real thing. He don t need to say a word, he

don t need to act, he just is and that s aristocracy."
"

You bet Fll pump out of him the truth of his being
out here. You can t make me swallow the tale that
he s here for trade. I wonder what the scandal is

that"
"

You ve got the gall of a leopard, Moore, but it

won t work in this case," Sadler interrupted. You "

ll

be just as wise after you ve pumped as you were before

you commenced and a jolly sight more tired. Ain t you

afraid he your fat slob from you?
"

ll steal
"

Go to hell," and Moore arose and looked over the

drinks set on the table by Ngumbe. He helped himself
to a generous portion of pernaud
l
then turned to Hunt

ingdon, who with Smithson and Sadler, approached the

table :
"

Here s a welcome to Mr. Huntingdon, good

health and good luck."

responded Sadler and Smithson, then

"

Chin, chin,"

Huntingdon toasted the others.

It was sundown.
Pith helmets were replaced by large, soft, gray felt
Wideawakes. Huntingdon noticed that the traders were
close-shaven like convicts. He ran his fingers through
his luxuriant blond hair and wondered if he d be more

comfortable if it were shorn.

In answer to his thought, Sadler said:
you clean to-morrow, Mr. Huntingdon
"

I ll
clip ;

hair You know we ve got to wear a sun hat

s too hot.
from sunup to sundown, and after that until bedtime
1 Absinthe.
84 HELL S PLAYGROUND
some sort of soft hat to ward off insect bites. This is

a bally jolly country, I don t think."

Oh, I say, Mr. Huntingdon, many coast beauties
"

brought down on the ship? Moore suddenly demanded. "

"

The usual number, I believe."

"

Who were aboard? "

"

Captain Haywood of the Royal Irish Fusiliers,

Longworthy of the Royal Niger Company, and old

Wallace of "

"

That bunch," and Moore shrugged his shoulders

Lots of gambling and drinking?
"
"

contemptuously.
Huntingdon nodded.
"Who went broke?"

I didn t play bank, old Huntingdon drawled

"

chap,"

in his laziest West-End tones.

Behind Huntingdon s back the delighted Sadler poked
Moore s ribs and nudged Smithson.
There was silence.

Black night fell.

One gleamed on Lopez Bay, just off shore.

light It

was a red lantern on the stern of the little Oka.

Soon another
light, a fire, leaped forth on the sandy
beach. was the watch commencing his night s vigil
It
over the mahogany logs. Tides were high and danger
ous and liable to send the logs adrift at any time.

Ngumbe lighted a lamp and set it on the table. A

horde of mosquitoes immediately came to life and at
tacked Huntingdon s ankles. He wore white canvas
low-cuts but the others wore mosquito boots. Sadler
leaned over and blew out the light.

Huntingdon was led to talk of Europe and civiliza

tion, then Smithson abruptly demanded if he had brought

 85

out many firearms and much ammunition. Huntingdon

replied in the affirmative.
"

You d best declare them, then, the first thing in the

morning; anyhow you ve got to make official calls. I ll

go with you."

Thanks, old man," drawled Huntingdon,

"

but I ve "

got a permit from the Minister of the French Colonies

admitting my kit, firearms and ammunition free, also a
permit to hunt any game there might be."
Tain t worth the paper it s written
"

Moore on,"

sneered.
"

France is far away and out here Douanes

and Commandants do as they please. Best declare your
stuff and don t commence by getting in wrong. The
1
Pomme-de-terre-frits can make it hell for you all right."

Because you wrong you don need to think

"

re in t

that everybody else is,"

retorted Sadler.
The Douane s a half-breed
"

from Martinique,"
Moore went on, ignoring Sadler. "

We ve dubbed him
gourmand because the natives must first bring all fresh
foods to him and we get what s left, which is often noth
ing. The Commandant puts away a litre of absinthe
a day."
"

How much do you guzzle? "

jibed Sadler.
Again Moore ignored the little skipper, and went on:
The Commandant looks like a puffed-up poodle dog,
"

with his thick lips and waxed, upturned mustachios.

His pop eyes are rimmed with black circles kidneys are ;

worked out by too many spirits. Parlez-vous franfais,

M sieu Huntingdon? Moore s pronunciation was
"

flat, purely Anglo-Saxon.

"

Out, Monsieur, je il
parle bien couramment," and
1 The Fried Potatoes a derisive term for the French.
86 HELL S PLAYGROUND
so truly French was Huntingdon s pronunciation and
so easily came the words that Sadler taunted Moore
about his bastard French and advised him to stick to
English.
retorted by calling Sadler a beggar and chiding
Moore
him for receiving the Great White King (pronounced
with great sarcasm) in tattered khaki. If you ain t
"

got the price to get the Loango tailor to make you some
new clothes, I ll lend it to you."

Thanks, Angel Face, but I ve no desire to wear na

"

tive-made clothes and appear the scarecrow the sky-pilots

are. They can wear nigger clothes, but I won t and
that reminds me, the sky-pilots are coming down from
Lambarene to the Rest House here."
Well, I guess they won t stay long we ll make the
"

atmosphere so blue that they ll run back to the bush in

a hurry," Moore threatened.
As they live right next door to you, Purest of Men,
"

one glance at you and your fat slob nigger wench ll turn
the trick."

"

What missionaries are coming down, Sadler? "

Smithson demanded. "

The bachelor with the snaky

eyes or the bride and
"

groom ?
"

Bachelor nothing Moore cut in derisively.

!
"

"

He s
got his black beauty just the same as the rest
of us ; and groom, they may call them
as for the bride
selves thatbut everybody knows the lady s an old hand
at spoon-palaver. She came out here some time ago
and she went from mission to mission, trying marriage
a la carte with the sky-pilots until sieu Leon hitched M
up with her."

"

Moore, I wouldn t have your putrid mind for all

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 87

the revenue of the French Congo,"

and deep disgust was
in Smithson s tones.
"

Revenue of the French Congo !

"

Moore sneered.
"

It s bankrupt, the Pomme-de-terre-frits don t make

enough money pay running expenses, so every colonial
to
official
goes for himself, grinding the natives to ab
it

ject poverty and getting all he can for himself because

he fears he won t get his salary. I haven t been in
trade out here ten years without finding out some things ;

this trade war between the French and the natives ain t

ended by a long shot. I presume you ve heard tell of

"

it, Huntingdon?
All interested wherever her
"

Oh, yes. England is

trade is hit."

"

And it s hit, all right,"

Moore went on.
"

In dis
tricts not declared open to trade by the Berlin act,
British and other traders have been driven out and they d
been here ages before the Pomme-de-terre-frits were ever
thought of and they brought with them the only civiliza
tion that ever came to those places. You ve no idea,

Huntingdon, of the poverty of this colony natives are ;

reduced to the slavery of beggary and dependents where

they were once contented and masters."

asked Huntingdon.
"

Is
Cape Lopez affected? "

Moore was lighting a cigar and Smithson answered :

Yes, and no trade can t be restricted here because

"

of the Berlin act, but because of the closing of British

factories in other districts, naturally less imports are

brought in and less exports go out of Cape Lopez you

know Cape Lopez would have no existence whatsoever
were not the coast outlet for the Ogowe, the greatest
it

strictly equatorial river in the world, flowing, as it does,

 88 HELL S PLAYGROUND
hundreds of miles along the equator through forests
rich in rubber, ivory, palm oil and timber. Oh, you ve
struck the right territory, Mr. Huntingdon, to make

money out of trade, if you ll hang on and not get

dis

but "

Smithson s voice died away into

couraged ;

his eyes came a great weariness and his whole figure

drooped pitifully.
Sadler tried to cover up his friend s misery by bel

lowing: "What s the matter with chop?

It s past

eight. Come on, Smithson, let s see what the palaver

is."

"

Rum," Moore chortled as the two men disappeared.

"

You bet your life I don t permit such slackness around

my place. Chop with me to-morrow night, Hunting

don, and I ll show you how to run a place."

Thanks, Mr. Moore, but

"

I ll see first what the other

gentlemen have framed up."
"

They ll come, don t fear. They never miss a chance

for a decent feedanyway, we ve got to depend on each
;

other for company so we see a lot of each other, too

;

damn much Smithson

s a regular fish-wife for gossip ;

he spreads news about everybody except himself and he s

mighty close-lipped about that. He s come down in
the world, easy to see that, and I don t believe
it s

Smithson s name. You can see he s a gentle

his real

man for he spouts every lingo under the sun, but he is

an all-fired gossip."

Moore waited for Huntingdon to ask questions, to

exchange gossip with him, at least to express an opinion,

but Huntingdon was silent.
Last dry season," went on Moore, we had the great
"
"

and unusual excitement of having two white ladies here

 89

at the same time: wives of the Gourmand and the Com

mandant. Oh, Mamma
but they had a rummy time ! ;

I suspicion there was an exchange of femmes, but noth

ing doing so far s you could notice it. But, you savvy,
virtue with the Pomme-de-terre-frits consists in not be

ing found out."

Again Moore stopped, expecting Huntingdon to say

something, but again Moore was disappointed.
Apropos of the ladies," Moore continued, I was
" "

sure you d bring a black beauty down with you nearly ;

everybody stationed in the French Congo gets a Ga-

bonaise at Libreville. One educated at the American
mission s the best ;
she s taught cleanliness and the ways
of the white man
she speaks English, French and the
;

native lingoes and she can help you a lot in the factory."
What s the principal tribe about here? Hunting
" "

don abruptly demanded. Moore s gossip did not in

him save where it conveyed information about the
terest

country.
Ouroungo, but don think of taking one of their
"

stinking, ugly women," Moore answered eagerly, mis

"

taking Huntingdon s interest. They re stupid too,

while the Gabonais are the Jews of the West Coast and

you can t beat em in trade. The Commandant has a

Gabonaise; Ndio s her name. Gad, but she s a pippin !

She can have me, but she looks higher than traders, but
why don t
you steal her from the Commandant? You re

of the nobility and she ll come a-running for you"

Think so?
"

and Huntingdon s sarcasm was so

"

fine

that Moore didn t get it.

"

Boots and Saddles ! There s no comparison be

tween you and the Commandant! Everybody knows
90 HELL S PLAYGROUND
a year,
re a nabob, out here to learn the business for
you
then to go Say, there s alone.
puncheons
it of mone}
in the timber business forests re simply reeking with ;

valuable lumber. What the devil do you want to grub

for old man Holt for a whole year? Chuck it; I ll tell
you how to go it alone, only I must keep under cover
so s not to lose me berth. You can divide with me sub
rosa."

Huntingdon felt like kicking Moore out of his sight.

Instead he offered him a delicious Habana, struck a
match, and held it until Moore got the tobacco aglow ;

then he drawled:
Thanks, Moore, but I ve one year
"

s service ahead of
me, then I ll welcome suggestions."
"

Come to chop!
"

bellowed Sadler.
"

Chop sgenerally rotten," Moore whispered, "

and to

night it ll some palaver

be worse for there s on."

After the blackness without, the light, which emanated

from a huge, oil lamp with a white glass shade suspended
low over the dining table, was blinding, and it was some
seconds before Huntingdon s eyes accustomed them
selves to its glare, then emphasized were the table and its

contents. The and badly

cloth was rumpled, unclean

laid; an array of toothpicks, catsup, mustard, salt and

pepper bottles, tins containing butter, milk and marma

lade, a huge stack of thickly cut bread, and a
battalion of wine, whisky, beer and cordial bottles were
crowded in the center of the table so as to leave space
for plates and the rest of the food.
"

I m sorry, Mr. Huntingdon," Smithson apologized,

for keeping you waiting your
"

firstnight with us, but

the chef s drunk."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 91

"

Don t apologize, Mr. Smithson," answered Hunting

I can appreciate how it I dare
"

don, heartily. is ;

say the best native servants are unreliable

Oh, I don broke in Moore. Slack master,

" "

t know,"

slack servants. The Commandant s Loango s the best

chef in thewhole French Congo. Why don t you steal

him, Sadler? "

Marked sarcasm was in Moore s demand; he never

dreamed that Sadler would take him up, but the little
skipper promptly boasted :

"

He s ours."

"

Ah, don t count your chickens before they re

hatched !
"

sneered Moore.
"

What d you bet I can t get him?

"

"

Anything you like."

Anything I like," and Sadler imitated Moore s sar

"

casm. You talk as though you owned something.

"

Make it a tin of decent cheroots."

"

Cheroots it is when you produce the chef de cuisine ."

"

Leave off the trimmings, I ll

get the Loango."
The serviettes and the plated-ware were borrowed
from Moore and bore the mark Chargeurs-Reunis. :

"

Moore, you old thief," cried little Sadler. Can t "

you afford stuff without stealing from the steamship

"

company ?
There re not mine I borrowed them from the Com
"

mandant. I never lend my outfit to anybody I know

better."

"

You mean you re too rotten stingy

Shut up, you two," Smithson commanded.
"

You "

never meet but you scrap let s at least have our meals in ;

peace."
92 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Ngumbe and Mbega served dinner. Ngumbe wore a

fairly clean white duck coat, buttoned tight, and he

proved himself an efficient servant, but Mbega was the

His cloth was tied about
bushboy pure and simple.
his neck and draped only the front of his body leaving
his back bare.
He attempted to hand soup across Sadler to Hunting
don. Infuriated, Sadler struck out, sending Mbega, soup
and all, to the floor, his head coming hard against Sad
ler s chair.
"

You raged Sadler, boisterously as

Monkey-Face,"

though he were aboard a ship in a gale of wind then, ;

catching sight of Mbega s filthy hands, he rapped him

viciously over the head, and bellowed :
"

Go wash em,
or I ll cut em off."
With a run Mbega made for the galley. He returned

wiping his hands on a towel stiff with dirt, then he

rammed the towel between his legs, against the bare
flesh!

Cork floated in Sadler s wine. He dashed the wine in

Mbega s face, and ordered him to fetch another glass.

The bushboy retired to the shadows, whisked the towel
from between his legs, spat in the glass, rubbed it vigor
ously until it shone, and filled it with clear wine !

The food was plentiful and of good quality, but it

was spoiled in the preparing. It was mostly from tins;
the exceptions being native chicken and
palm-cabbage.
The former was thin and tough and Sadler complained
that a sausage machine ought to be served with it. Palm-

cabbage is the root of the palm tree and while it has a

peculiar, fine flavor, different from anything Hunting
don had ever eaten, and is palatable and refreshing,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 93

Huntingdon regretted that a beautiful, graceful palm

is sacrificed that man might eat of its heart.
"

Gad," cried Moore in whose soul poetry and re

finement dwelt not, d eat my fellow man rather than
"

starve, wouldn t you, Huntingdon?"

"

I can t say, Mr. Moore, what I might do in an ex

treme case, but I don t think I d voluntarily starve to
death if I could find any sort of nourishment."
"

People in civilization make me sick," went on Moore

boasting what they d do in extreme cases
"

sneeringly, !

Much they know what it is to be hungry, to be where

you can get any food or water or even the commonest

t

things of Gad, they ought to come out here to my

life.

first station at Ninge-Ninge

"

They ought to have been with me in the Transvaal

before the Boer war and before it was civilized as it is

now, when I was out there onmy first engineering job,"

cut in Smithson, but, noticing the eager curiosity of
Moore, and resenting the hateful, familiar manner in
which he drew nearer as though he would compel con
fession from his lips, Smithson never finished what he
meant to say and Moore lost the chance of hearing the

of gossip that had ever come his way. For,

prettiest bit
as Moore suspicioned, Smithson was of a good British

family, a son in whom parents hopes were high, an

Oxford graduate and a gentleman by birth, but
colonies have ruined more than one well-bred, promising

young man, and they will continue to ruin men as long

as colonies are what they are.
So you were in the Boer war, eh, Smithson
"

began
"

Moore, inquisitively, but affecting drunkenness Smith-

son sang:
94

Come where the booze is cheaper,

Come where the mugs hold more,
Come where the boss is a bit of a joss,
Let s go to the pub next door.

Ngumbe was pouring out black coffee and Moore

yelled :

"

I want tea !
"

"

Yes, give im tea," answered Sadler,

"

he ain t used
to anything else. Hatton & Cookson feed their men tea
because it s cheaper
"

You re a liar," screamed Moore. "

Hatton s much
better to his men than old man Holt is and we were
the first on this coast, too
"

Yes, you were slavers, that s what you were," taunted

little Sadler.
The drinks were telling on the men and their tempers
were ugly.
"

So would Holt have been if he had been out in them

days
"

Hatton still employs slaves

"

What the devil s the difference who niggers belong

to so long as they work ; anyhow, Smithson knows that
an old-fashioned slave s a better workman than the gen
eral run of native to-day, ain t it so, Smithson ? "

"

True palaver, Moore. I say, Huntingdon, I

wouldn have a mission nigger about the place if I were
t

you," and again the traders broke forth in denunciation

of missionaries making old Wallace s accusations mild
in comparison.
Twas midnight when Moore demanded:
Gig ready, Smithson?
"
"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 95

No. Boys had a mighty big cargo to take off the

"

Nigeria to-day ; they re in bed. Mbega can light you

home."

"

If I had known you d be so bally careful of your

niggers I d have had mine wait nice way to treat a

guest g wan and he roughly shoved Mbega in

front of him.
Good night, sweet
"

one," rollicked little Sadler.

Moore s retort was a long, vociferous oath, and Sadler
broke forth in the cockney ballad:

If her eyes could only smile,

If her lips could only speak,
But she s only a beautiful picture
In a beautiful golden frame.

As Huntingdon entered his sleeping room, little Sadler

cried :

"

I say, tenderfoot, don

forget to shake the sheets,
t

sleep on your shoes and don t walk about in bare feet.

Scorpions, centipedes, snakes, roaches, and the terror
that biteth by night are abroad but happy dreams, if

you can get them."

To be transplanted from the niceties and refinements

of an exquisite, civilized home to superlative crudity and
disorder and uncleanliness, is harsh and contrastly, but,

as Huntingdon tucked the worse-for-wear mosquito bar

under a none-too-clean mattress, he muttered:
certainly opera bouffe with all its trimmings.
"

It s

I wonder what Marjorie and the mater would say could

they see me now, but what people don t know can t keep
them awake."
96 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The terror that biteth
by night, however, did keep
Huntingdon awake, until he took several big drinks of
whisky, which, combined with all he had drunk during

the evening, stupefied him so that he was oblivious to

everything.
 HUNTINGDON awoke early. He
always did when he
drank too much. He ordered Ngumbe to bring him a
cold tub. The water was none too clean nor was there
much of it. Huntingdon emptied a whole bottle of violet
ammonia into it, which caused Ngumbe to sniff vigor

ously and remark :

Them scent be plenty

"

fine too much. How much he

cost, master?
"

"

I no savvy, Ngumbe," answered Huntingdon, kindly,

closing the door.
"

and Ngumbe s head was stuck through the

Master,"

open window, sundown be proper time for bath for

"

white man and water must be hot."

Thanks, Ngumbe, but go away now, I wish to be
"

alone."

Me, I savvy white man palaver, plenty, plenty me,

"

I be proper boy for Mister Huntingdon, the Great

White King," and Ngumbe hastened to the galley to
describe to the other servants that the Great White King
bathed in a whole tub of scent, that his underwear was
past anything for fine he had ever seen, and that the
Great White King had begged him to be his own special
boy, all of which was swallowed as truth by the others
and Ngumbe was considered a very superior creature in
deed!
97
98 HELL S PLAYGROUND

Feeling fit and fresh after his bath, Huntingdon

sauntered to the beach.
Theearly morning was plaintive. The skies were a
soft blue, so characteristic of the equator, and the waters
of the bay reflected them.
It seemed a long, long while before sunrise, but, grad

ually, water and skies took on warmer hues and in the

east a tinge of gold appeared,communicating itself to
all nature by ribbons thrown from a common center.

Then rapidly growing brighter and brighter, they con

verged in a spot on the ocean s brim from whence there
suddenly leaped a ball of brilliant fire, blinding and mag
nificent, as the Sun rose majestically into his kingdom!
The soul of Huntingdon responded to Nature s

ecstatic call. He drank in great draughts of the salt

laden air; he gazed into space unoccupied and silent;
he recognized the great difference between active Eu

rope and somnambulant Africa. Marked was the absence

of the rush, rattle and roar of civilization, the throb of
incessant life beating with a defined purpose there were ;

no streets, roads, houses, beasts of burden and vehicles;

no monotonous round of engagement keeping to be en
dured, no heavy, sombre clothing to be worn there was ;

naught but freedom, total, absolute freedom. Hunting

don threw out his arms and embraced the whole world.
He was as a man released from long imprisonment. He
read no menace in the absence of the things to which he
was accustomed he knew only the ecstasy of the pres
;

ent; he was thankful that there were no distractions to

interferewith his learning the business which had

brought him there; he was anxious to begin work at

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 99

once for every moment well-spent brought him nearer

Marjorie and happiness.
The brilliant sunlight showed up the bungalow in all
its sordidness. Last night s shadows had been kind, but

again Huntingdon reflected that everything would be

cleaned and put in decent shape when Smithson left and
he was in full charge.
For the present Huntingdon was content with ordering
everything from his bedroom, having it cleansed thor
oughly and his own things set up therein.
Untubbed and slattern, Smithson and Sadler came to
the breakfast table. Smithson s pallor was distressing;
his khakis were old and soiled; his coat was minus but
tons, exposing an indifferent singlet. His breakfast was
an enormous dose of quinine, coffee and brandy.
Sadler
yelled loud for fruit salts and, clouting;

Ngumbe over the head for failing to put them on the

table, he shoved the quinine towards Huntingdon, yell
ing:
"

Take that dope and become like Smithson a corpse

:

walking round to save funeral expenses."

Huntingdon took the drug because physicians had

told him he must if he would preserve his health.
Bad as was the dinner the night before and wretched
the service, breakfast was worse. Huntingdon recog
nized that some attempt at improvement had been made
on his arrival. Now that he was installed, he could take
things as they came. The only things fit to eat were
the native-grown coffee, which he took black, and the

papayes. The latter were large, luscious, and delicious.

After breakfast, Sadler brought forth a pair of scis-
 100 HELL S PLAYGROUND
sors and on the front veranda he proceeded to cut Hunt
ingdon s hair.

Holt s and passing natives gathered and

creissboys
in silence they intently gazed upon the curling, blond

locks which fell slowly and unevenly from the dull scis
sors. Never before had they beheld hair which shone
like the sun and curled like the young bamboo palms ;

it must be indeed the distinguishing mark of a Great

White King !

Sadler fully appreciated its effect upon the super

stitious savages, and, in solemn tones, he decanted upon

the value of the hair as a charm to ward off all evil.

No death could come to wearer from secret poisons

its

or wild beasts ; sterile women were made to bring forth

young; a mother could have a man or a woman child,
whichever she preferred enemies were indicated ; theft
;

guarded against ; indifferent beaux were seized with con

suming love for him or her who would be adored; the
sick were healed; the afflicted
were comforted; the blind
were caused to see ; the lame to walk ;
in short, the hair
of the Great White King was a charm more potent than

any concocted by native sorcerers and witch doctors and

much cheaper !

Credulous as babes, the savages eagerly devoured

every word that fell from the white wag s lips.
Sickness, death and bad luck of any sort are but dif
ferent manifestations of ju-ju and charms are the only
safe-guard against them.
Huntingdon essayed a laugh, but a sharp poke in his
neck from the scissors caused him to desist. Out
stretched on a steamer chair, his mask
eyes half closed
ing his amusement, lay Smithson. He loved the little
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 101

skipper and was happiest when he played the mounte

bank.
The first native to recover after Sadler s decantation
was the officious Ngumbe. He demanded the magic hair
of the Great White King. But, shoving him aside, Sad
lerbade the giant, Sunlight, carefully gather up the hair
and sell it for a shilling the charm. The giant tucked
away in his cloth a handful of hair for his own use and
in the native town beyond he sold the rest of it for clay

pipes, leaves of tobacco, boxes of matches and plates

of salt.

Huntingdon eagerly sought a mirror. He laughed at

his appearance; it completely altered his looks, and he
felt sort of queer, yet comfort must be had at any price.
"

I ll make a trader* out of Sunlight yet," Sadler

boasted.
"

Better teach him English first," Smithson advised.

presume you ve recognized, Mr. Huntingdon, that
"

pidgin English is a language in itself and it s astonish

ing how prevalent it is in the bush, going to prove that
we British were the first to carry trade, hence civilization,
into the interior and our being ousted by the French is
indeed a great calamity. King Leopold s the head of
this restricted trade rumpus. Not content with his mal
treatment of the natives in his private domain, the Congo
Beige, he has butted in here, ousting out everybody else
but the French companies which he controls. Tis true
that Hatton and Cookson and Holt have secured dam

ages in the courts of Europe for loss of trade, but those

damages are nothing in comparison to what the trade

is
really worth but, come along, I ll show you over
the factory, then we must make official calls."
102 HELL S PLAYGROUND
tin roof of the factory made it hot and the win
The
dows were few and afforded little ventilation. The floor
was of dirt, which Sadler said was filled with jiggers and
other
"

bally
"

tortures. A small selling space was par

titioned off in front where goods were displayed, and
the rear was used as a storeroom.
Itula, the shop boy, clad in neat khaki, was young
and spoke intelligent English. He immediately rec
ognized in Huntingdon a man worthy of respect and

homage, while Huntingdon was agreeably surprised in

Itula and pleased to have such a valuable assistant.

A
decrepit old native followed Huntingdon into the
factory and began to whine :

"

I be proper frien f er Inglees,"

but Sadler warned :

Pay no attention to him, Huntingdon, he

"

s getting
1
ready to strike you for a dash. Come on back and look
the storeroom over."
The place was dark and Huntingdon stumbled over a
pile of something soft, which Sadler explained was
crude rubber. Huntingdon took a handful of it to the

light to examine it. It was in small balls, of a dirty

white color and of unpleasant odor. Smithson ex
plained the method of gathering it and the prevailing
market price. He decried the ruthless destruction of
rubber vines and trees by the natives and the French
lack of foresight in not insisting upon the nurturing of
old vines and trees, and the planting of new ones.
More vines and trees were destroyed in one year than
could be grown in ten. The French are not coloniz
"

ers," was Smithson s final remark.

"

I thought they were," answered Huntingdon.

i
Gift, tip.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 103

Algiers is mightily improved under the French, I hear

"

the Senegal is too, and look at Madagascar "

Madagascar and the Senegal,"

I ve been in Algiers,
"

answered Smithson. They re not so well governed as

"

they might be; their interiors continue pretty much in

their primitive states. As for the French Congo, did
you go ashore at Libreville, the capital of Gaboon?
"

"

No."

and Brazzaville on the Congo River are dead as

"

It
door nails and immediately outside of those two ports,
;

bush and savagery still hold sway. Trade s fallen off

enormously and the French are too short-sighted to rec
ognize that it s all from their own acts. You can t
force a monopoly in anything but absolute necessities.
The black man can get along without the white man ;

he has demonstrated by it his life ages before he ever

saw a white man, but the latter must have the co
operation of the negro. The French have made and are
daily making great mistakes. Because the government
has, without the leave of the native, granted exclusive

trading concessions on land which has belonged to the

natives from time out of mind, and because the con
cessionaires charge the natives with theft if they fell
timber or hunt ivory, the negroes hide from the govern
ment and refuse to trade with the concessionaires. And
the result? Chaos all round. The natives sit idle in

their native towns surrounded by worse conditions than

existed before a white man came among them. For up
wards of one hundred and fifty years in some districts
open trade has been established; the white man became
a necessity the natives became dependent upon him
; ;

they were content to gather their products and exchange

104 HELL S PLAYGROUND
them for the trinkets of civilization, absolutely no use to
them but suddenly competitive trade was forced out and
;

the monopolists not only put up the prices of well-known

imports but substitute in their stead unknown inferior

products at superior prices Accused of theft by the !

concessionaires, and punished therefor by the govern

ment, the natives are reduced to absolute beggary. They
have nothing, yet out of nothing they are expected to
pay an annual tax to the government! Now the con
cessionaires accuse the government of having taken
them in, of demanding an exorbitant price for terri
tories already worked out."

"

Are the concessions really worked out, Smithson? "

"

No.
re destroyed, as I ve explained, but
They
plantations of rubber and oil-palms can be made and
nurtured and the yield will be great but, of course, ;

it takes time, and the French have so impoverished them

selves by bad management that they can t afford to wait,

hence government and the concessions are bankrupt.

Come on, we must make those calls, otherwise your kit
might be searched and your firearms and ammunition
confiscated no matter what papers you have from the
Government at Paris."

The white men had scarce left the factory, when

Makaya, the Commandant s chef slouched in. Sadler
immediately sent Itula on a errand to a bush town which
would require some hours time. He wanted to be alone
with the Loango.

Makaya was undersized, greasy and crafty his front ;

teeth were out and through them his tongue showed like
a strip of red calico. He wore a flannel nightshirt,
much too large, stuffed into a pair of balloon Turkish
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 105

trousers of red and blue striped madras drawn tight

about by a broad, leather belt. He was
his thin waist

about thirty-five years of age and smug with the sat

isfaction of a lady-killer. For Makaya, chef to the
Commandant, was an attractive dandy to the ladies of
Cape Lopez. His
of conceit was inordinately de
bump
veloped and tricky Sadler turned a stream of seduction
full upon it.

Makaya wanted two fathoms

of British print goods.
Generally, the natives had to take what Sadler gave
them. But Makaya was permitted to make a selection
from a number of pieces, while Sadler said, flatteringly :

Makaya, you certainly are a measly-looking mut,

"

but you can chef to the king s own taste, blow me pipes
if you can t."

puffed up like a pock-marked frog under the

Makaya
downpour of the white man s guile. He squirmed in his
balloon trousers he shoved his hands into his pockets ;
;

he rolled his tongue about his open mouth and his little
eyes gleamed with satisfaction, but he said nothing.
Makaya, you look them Great White King what
"

come for beach yesterday and what just now take walk
with Master Smithson ? "

I look um, Master Sadler.

"

Him be fine pas French-

mans."

Him be fine pas all white man

"

boasted Sadler. ;
"

Him be big king for him country

"

big white
king. You savvy king, Makaya?
"

Sure I savvy. He pas chief. He pas everybody

"

for fine."

King Huntingdon him say to me, Master Sadler,

"

you fit for find me chef, proper chef? I fit, Great

106 HELL S PLAYGROUND
1
White King, I tell him. I fit for make book to send to

Loango for get cook to come for the Great White

King." Suddenly Sadler shut off the guile, and de
manded :

"

What else does Makaya, chef to Commandant,

want? "

"

Stink water."

Sadler handed out a bottle of perfume so strong that

it screamed through the cork.
The Loango sniffed it repeatedly, asked the price of
it and stowed it in his shirt.

continued Sadler, go now for make book

" "

Yes," I
for Loango cook to come. You fit to take them book

to post office?
"

And Sadler reached for a box of letter

paper.
"

Master Sadler? "

Umph, you want buy something more? asked the

" "

guileless one, knowing well what was in the mind of the

Loango.
"

Me, Makaya, Loango, chef to Commandant, I fit for

chef for Great White King."

"

Sure, Loango, chef for Commandant, fit for chef

for Great White King. But Commandant he never lef
Makaya go. And me, I never thief other white man s
chef; and in Sadler
"

s
big blue eyes was the innocence
of a suckling babe.
"

Them Commandant him pay me thirty francs

month."
"

Thirty francs a month! For a Loango chef? "

Emphasized was Sadler s contempt, followed by the

boast :
"

Great White King him pay thirty-five francs

i Letter.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 107

and him dash, plenty, plenty stink water and pomade,

rum and tacco every Saturday night Him live jus fer t

dash him chef. Him be big king, proper king."

The Loango leaned over the counter and asked ear

nestly :

"

You look um say so ?

"

"

Umph !
My mouth him never mek lie-palaver. But
Makaya he prefer chef for them Commandant"
"

Me I fear them chicotte.

1
Frenchmens mek plenty
chicotte-pa.]a,ver."
"

And Loango him like them palaver and him stay by

Frenchman," sneered Sadler.
The Loango ignored the sneer, and complained:
Messure Commandant, him no cadeau 2 me lavande
"

and rum."

"

Them French no be proper master," condemned Sad

King Huntingdon cadeau all him peoples stink
"

ler.

water, plenty, plenty, and rum, good, stiff, British rum !

It pas absinthe for fine," and Sadler smacked his

lips.
"

Me, I never look um so," confessed the Loango,

sadly.
Never look proper rum, rum pas absinthe for fine
"

Poor Makaya, chef Loango. That s because him never

chef for proper master. French no be proper master
for black man. Him give black man rot-gut all time.
3
Rot-gut fit only fer nigger. White King fit cadeau him
chef, proper rum."

1 French for cashing-go.

2 Gift.

3 Slave. Term of great opprobrium. To apply it to a free na

tive is apt to bring serious results.
108 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

Him cadeau him chef rum, rum all same white man
takes?" and Makaya s eyes blazed with incredulity.
"

Sure."

"

How much them rum cost? "

Ah, gwan, French master never pay you plenty

"

money for buy proper English rum."

"

Lemme look what them bottles look like."

Sadler brought out an unlabelled bottle. It was the

vilest rum in stock.
"

White man take him ? "

and Makaya puckered his

cracked black lips.

"

Sure white man take him. I ll have one now," and

Sadler raised the bottle to his mouth.

Makaya passed the back of his hand over his dry

lips, and gasped, hungrily :

"

Him be fine, pas absinthe for fine?

"

"

Taste him and see," and suddenly Sadler held out

the bottle.
Taken by surprise the Loango cried:
"

Me drink all same Master Sadler

as "

Yes, and all same rum what King Huntingdon

drink. Put him for belly !
"

Makaya took a tremendous draught.

It nearly suffocated him,
proof though he was against
most trade stuff.
"

Ain t he fine, Makaya," and Sadler brought down

his fist hard on the Loango s shoulder.
"

Don t he pas
absinthe for strong? "

"

He pas all things for strong,"

choked Makaya
through his burning esophagus.
"

King Huntingdon,
him take um? "
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 109

"

Sure. White man throat be strong, strong,

STRONG! "

Makaya reluctantly handed back the bottle.

him. Plenty more live for inside," and Sadler
"

Keep
gestured magnanimously towards the storeroom. Sud
denly, he doubled up, rubbed his stomach and in agony
Oh, Makaya, Master Sadler he ketch sick for
"

cried:

belly. He
get medceen. fit Wait !
"

and Sadler plunged

into the storeroom.
Left alone, Makaya did what Sadler wished him to
do. He drank again and again of the fiery liquid.
When Sadler reappeared, Makaya swayed uncer
tainly.
Makaya him sick for head? asked the guileless one
" "

inpronounced sympathy.
"

Them rum fix you up, have

some more."
Again Makaya drank greedily, then he thrust the
almost empty bottle into his shirt and started towards
the door, but he was so drunk he stumbled into a pile of
stone-china dishes and sank among the debris.
Sadler closed his fists. He wanted to pommel the
drunken brute, but he controlled himself. He had an
end to gain.
Makaya looked stupidly at Sadler; his eyes blinked;
his red slit of a tongue protruded restlessly, and from
his shirt ran two streams one of rum and the other of
;

perfume. The clash of odors was sickening, and Ma-

kaya head wobbled over the fumes, then he
s fell face
down among the broken dishes.
Sadler dragged him into the storeroom, deposited
him behind some barrels, then chortled:
110 HELL S PLAYGROUND
You beast, if the rats don t eat you, I guess we ll
"

have a proper cook. You ll sleep past the Comman

dant s dinner time and you ll be too jolly well scared
to brave his wrath. Allans, as the Frog-eaters say."

Little Sadler lightly kissed the tips of his fingers

and returned to the front of the factory. He lived in
a gale of jollity for the rest of the day. But it was
morning before Makaya regained full consciousness.
The wretch cried out his fear of the Commandant and
begged Sadler to get the Great White King to protect
him. After much importuning and many, many prom
isesfrom the Loango never to drink again and to live
only to cook the finest dishes white men ever put into
his mouth, Sadler magnanimously promised that King

Huntingdon would protect the Loango chef, Makaya,

"

from the wrath of the Commandant and the whole damn

French Army !
"

Sadler didn doing things by halves and

t believe in

Makaya s seduction and abduction were a fact accom

plished.
 CHAPTER VII

IN the meantime Smithson and Huntingdon were pro

ceeding on their official calls. The sand was so heavy
it was too much for
that Huntingdon, and, weak though
Smithson was and consequently slow his walking, Hunt
ingdon could not keep up with him. Huntingdon s
stiff leather, tan shoes with thick soles were dreadfully

heavy and impeded progress, while the hot sand burned

through them and tortured his feet. He envied Smith-
son his light-weight, tan, soft-leather mosquito boots,
which reached nearly to his knees. He had none in his
kit and he thought he had brought everything he
would need. Smithson said that the German factory
kept the boots in stock and advised Huntingdon to get
several pairs at once.
Few natives were abroad; they stared at the new
comer with open admiration, then pleasantly greeted:
"

Mbolane."

"Aye mbolane," responded Smithson continuing

his way.
"

Aye,"
came the
savage grunt, as they too
satisfied,
continued their way, looking back and smiling, satis
fied at last that a Great White King had come to dwell

among them. They sensed the difference between as

sumed tyranny and natural supremacy. They may
cringe before the former and in their heart vow ven
geance against it, but to the latter they tender voluntary
111
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and fealty
allegiance, willing service
so far as they

are capable of faith toward any white man. For

when it comes to a crisis black men will cling together
against the white man every time. Among themselves
they are great respecters of caste and deep-seated are
their love and allegiance to their superiors ; their

kings, chiefs, and headmen cannot err ; theirs the power

of life or death and their judgments are irrevo
cable. It has been so from time out of mind, it will

continue to be so as long as savages are savages. Cus

toms cannot be uprooted over night nor can the habit
of centuries be annihilated with a blow, the white man s

thought to the contrary notwithstanding.

To make walking less heavy, before the Government
buildings of Cape Lopez, a band of chained prisoners in
charge of a Senegalese tirailleur was strewing straw.

They gave way at the approach of the white men and

the guard stood attention. He was a magnificent speci
men of a black man and he shouldered his carbine easily
and gracefully. His uniform was dark blue, his fez
was red with a long, dangling tassel and he was bare of
feet.

The government buildings, ramshackle and badly in

need of repairs, were of the low, bungalow type, set on
pilesand surrounded by verandas.
Smithson had sent word to the Commandant announc
ing their call at that hour, otherwise the Commandant
might not be dressed and would refuse to see them.
Areed-grown path lead through a dusty, sandy, neg
lectedgarden to the Commandant s veranda, and a
houseboy in clean whites escorted the white men to the
Commandant s bureau a large, barren room, con-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 113

taining a littered-up desk, a cabinet file and some heavy,

wooden chairs.
The Frenchman appeared, glowing from recent scrub

bing, dressed in immaculate white and smelling strongly

of perfume. Moore had correctly described him he :

did look like a puffed-up poodle dog, lazy and overfed,

and he was the sycophant exaggerated. He was over
joyed to hear la langue francaise spoken so deliciously
and perfectly by a foreigner; deep was his humiliation
and shame that he could not speak the beautiful Eng
lish. With a flourish he viseed Huntingdon s passport;
he made out with great pleasure and much ostentation a
permis de sejour for six months, or longer, and tendered
it to Huntingdon with his plus grands hommages; he

knew Huntingdon was of la haute noblesse, un gentil-

homme entitled to the utmost respect and deference all ;

of which grated false on the Englishmen and revealed the

Commandant s peasant origin.
Then the Commandant lead the way to his private
veranda screened with Venetian blinds of bamboo. Di
vans and easy chairs there were, mats and reading mat
ter, but the place reflected the master and it was neither

reposeful nor comfortable. It didn t ring true. Cham

pagne, dainty biscuits and Habana cigars were served.
Under the influence of the wine, the Commandant la

mented the monotonous, barbarous country ; he was

trlste, miserable sans son jolie femme; malaria and the
rains had left him meagre; Africa was so inhospit
thin,
able and la belle France si distant! Les indigenes were
treacherous, lazy cochons; they refused to pay impot;
they preferred to sleep comme les betes and expected
France to feed and keep them. They did not appreciate
114 HELL S PLAYGROUND
him, grand Commandant du Cape Lopez who loved
le

them for punishment he wished they all

like children ;

had but one head that he might strike it off at a blow!

He commiserated with himself until tears gathered in
his frog-like eyes he blew his nose vigorously he poured
; ;

absinthe into his wine glass, added much sugar and little
water, and drank it
greedily. Then his mood changed ;

he grew eloquent upon the delights of absinthe; it was a

beautiful the grand remedy for la
woman, a goddess ;

tristesse; brought dreams

it more voluptuous than any
material delights! Mon Dwu, la belle Absinthe! He
who had never experienced her delights was accursed of
the gods !

Several native chiefs were announced by the boy, but

the Commandant s gloss had dimmed before absinthe,
and he raged :

Shut up, you pig, interrupt me again and

"

I ll have
"

you chicotted!
He wrang Huntingdon s hand and cried when he bade
him adieu ; le grand due Huntingdon must come again,
and often, to relieve the gloom of the Commandant s

triste existence ; but to Smithson he said nothing, he

ignored him completely.
"

The old hypocrite," raged Smithson, had you been

"

a mere pleb like the rest of us, scant treatment and short
shrift for you. The French, even the best of them,
don t like us and never will ; and these sycophantic, petty
officials lick the heels of any man above them by the
accident of birth. That reptile s having another drink
and perhaps off to sleep. His bureau can take care of
itself. Look at Cape Lopez! Here you find the A B
C of the whole French Colony! stagnation, rottenness,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 115

barrenness, degradation. Did you ever see anything so

disreputable in all your life asthose government build

ings ; and anybody less worthy to administer the law

than that creature? "

They could be worse, but not

"

much," Huntingdon
answered promptly. He believed in reputable govern
ment quarters and he detested poseurs.
The postmaster was a pale, sickly chap with his
trousers draped mostly about his thin ankles. He, too,
fairly cringed before Huntingdon ; he, too, indulged in

sugary speech from which Smithson was excluded; and

with courtly bows and many flowery compliments he took
leave of Huntingdon.

Puppets, marionettes, pulled by the string of

"

caste,"

cried Smithson, disgusted. Give me a man and "

I don t

care a ground-nut what his ancestry is. I say, Hunt

ingdon, behold the Plains of Mandji," and Smithson

pointed across a flat plateau spotted here and there with
scrub grass and disappearing in the distance into dense

vegetation. There s a Hunter s Paradise the play

"

ground of rare animals, some dating beyond the Miocene

Age. a good tussle I ve had there with the bush-
Many
cow, the most formidable of all animals as for leop ;

ards, they re so bold fire won t keep em away, and many

a good shot I ve had at them on a bright night from my
own veranda. It s nothing at all unusual for a cat to
steal to the very camp fire and tear a child away. Oh,
you get hunting and a-plenty
ll I can t begin to name !

all the animals, for some of them have never been named ;

as for birds, the air s full o them."

"

I m awfully keen for a hunt, old man," enthused

Huntingdon.
116 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

Best get one then before I set out for N djole; any
way, you might as well play while I m here, you ll have
to stick close enough when I m gone, especially till
you
get the hang of things."
"

I say, Smithson, old chap, I don t know a bally

thing about trade, don cher know."
Huntingdon s

frankness was that of a growing boy, his drawl that of a

West-End dandy.
"

Bluff it ; bluff sends the world around. We never

get any new of goods merchandise is the same as

lines ;

it has been for half a century only cash is allowed ;

over the counter, no barter and trade at all; goods are

marked in plain figures. I ll put the selling prices on
the last invoices that came in ; you can study them and
when you ve once learned them, you ll be all right;
however, Itula s the wisest native I ever had about me
in all then suddenly conscious that he was becoming
"

personal, he cried Did you ever in all your life see

:
"

any place so dreary, so God-forsaken, so end-of-the-

earthy as Cape Lopez? This thick, dirty stretch of
sand is our only promenade. You re getting a sample
of walking; it s not conducive to exercise, is it? "

Decidedly not still, there s the sea it is ever chang

"

!
;

ing then there are the plains and beyond them the shad
;

owy, mysterious bush which I m so anxious to explore,"

Huntingdon enthused. Stopping to pick up a cocoa
nut,and pointing to the cocoanut palms, he exclaimed:
they majestic with their long fronds of dull
"Aren t

green bending gracefully from the tufted trunks of old

sepia, and isn t it wonderful that such a nutritious nut
should come from such barren soil? Then, as the
"

odor of turpentine smote his nostrils, he looked about

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 117

and discovering a mango tree, he sought its motherly

shade, and cried, feeling of the fruit which was small
and hard and far from ripe, Ah, Smithson, I don t
"

think I ll corrode here; it s all too new, too interest

ing, so entirely different to what I ve ever before

known !
"

Enthuse while you can, old man," advised Smithson

"

gently, it ll soon wear off

"

but try to take in the mean

;

ing of this desolate beach; notice how separate, dis

cordant are the indifferent habitations of the white men
and their trade depots. I tell you, Huntingdon, if it
were not for the monthly call of steamers no white man
could stand this sameness. It s got me going and if I

don t get away from it soon, you ll plant me here," and

he stopped before a small space enclosed with a crude

fence of upright bamboo splits. Depressions showed
here and therein the inhospitable sand but of other mark

there was none indicating the last resting place of the

unfortunate white men who had gone the way of Africa
and the was a sad, desolate spot and Hunting
flesh. It
don wished he had not seen it. He made no comment and
passed on, but Smithson complained, pathetically :

Cape Lopez is enough of a boneyard without some

"

fiend planting that additional reminder there to taunt

us every time we pass. Huntingdon, old man, could
anything be more depressing, more horror-begetting than
that lonely half-acre, those gaunt, rattling cocoa-nut

palms and the eternal sob of the restless sea casting

itself in misery on the shifting sands of the treacherous
beach? "

Huntingdon s reply was sympathetic, acquiescent si

lence.
118 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

I must get away from here one time, I can t stand

it much longer, my friend."

"

All right, old chap, when you will. I m here to

relieve you and I m ready to begin right now."
Thanks, but there s some things I must do before I
"

go. Anyhow, at N djole there s nothing but bush. The

sea, the Atlantic, is some direct communication with
home, and that s a lot of comfort at times, when
its sob and eternal restlessness don t torture worn-out
nerves. I ll tire of the bush too. It s nothing but reek
ing vegetation ; your very vitals turn green gazing at it,

and the torrential rains eight months the rainy season

endures eight interminable - - hell-enduring -
months."

His tones died off in a sad monotone, expressing

more than did his words. Huntingdon was again vividly
impressed with the white man s misery in the black man s
country, yet such misery would never come to him oh, !

no! He was there to gain wealth and Marjorie. He

would so guard himself that Africa s onslaughts would
pass him by. He was young, strong, healthy. He
would put up a stiff fight. would NOT go under HE !

Oh, the faith of youth and inexperience! Tis sub

lime!
Into the Douane gate Smithson turned, and again
s

barren sand led to the very door of the bungalow.

The Douane immediately appeared all smiles, dressed
in immaculate white and hung with medals. He was a
somnambulant, about thirty
Creole, languorous, indolent,

years of age and clothed with the soft fat that comes of
easy living. His eyes were large, velvety and a rich,
moist brown ;
his thick, dark lashes curled like a woman s ;
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 119

his blue-black hair was ripples of waves ; his mustache

was short with up-turned ends; his complexion was
cafe au lait; his lips were full, red, and sensual and his
teeth were even, white and rounded.
A gourmand and a half-breed, Moore called him; an
egoist the French would name him, but to Huntingdon
he was exceedingly interesting. He was strongly indi
vidual of the tropics, part and parcel of them the cold, :

gray north would blast and kill him.

He spoke the perfect English of the educated for
eigner he showed no surprise at Huntingdon s permis
;

d apporter d arms dans la Colonie Francaise and he

made out a permis de chasse, presenting it to Huntingdon
with his plus grands hommages, but there was nothing
servile nor sycophantic about him he was a gentleman, a
;

man of culture, refinement, travel the first one of the

;

kind Huntingdon met on the west coast. And white

men dubbed him half-breed! But breeding is breeding
no matter what dress it assumes or complexion it betrays.
The Douane led the way to his private verandah
where a revelation of ease and comfort burst upon Hunt
ingdon and delighted him. Finely woven bamboo shades
hid the verandah from public gaze and permitted a

perfect, subdued view of the littoral. Low, comfortable

chaises longues, and small tables were of Madeira rattan ;
the floor was strewn with native hand-woven mats of
rich, brilliant hues ;
there were the latest novels in
Spanish, French, Italian
English. and
Baudelaire s
Les Fleurs du Mai lay open on a teakwood tabouret,
on a chaise longue piled with soft cushions covered
with cool, fresh linens, were Pierre Loti s Desenchantee,
Paul Adams Veu d Amerique, and Hichens Garden
120 HELL S PLAYGROUND
of Allah. Water bottles of red c\a.j fashioned like
birds hung from the rafters by stout lianes coaxing
coolness from the circumambient air. On the rear of
the veranda a table was laid with a snowy-white, well-
ironed cloth and set with a single breakfast service of
delicate white china with a narrow gold band.
To the table the Douane advanced, and, at his com
mand; marmiton," a smallboy appeared.
"Petit He
was picturesque in a brilliant red cloth and headdress
and a white coat buttoned up tight with a high military
collar. He listened attentively while the Douane spoke
in theOuro-ungo dialect, then softly he placed two extra
chairs at the table. The Douane bade his guests be
seated he begged their permission to partake of his
;

petit dejeuner; he asked them what refreshment they

would have. At
that instant the houseboy appeared
in a well-fitting fresh white uniform, bearing on a tray a

glass of fresh milk from the cocoanut; cafe-au-lait,

dry toast and a papaye. The visitors declared in favor
of the cocoanut milk. The marmiton, at the Douane s
command, brought forth a number of the nuts, from
which the Douane selected the best and ordered the milk
extracted therefrom. The Douane spoke of the benefi
cial qualities of the milk as a morning beverage: it
regulates the system, helps ward off fever, etc. ; then
in French he commanded the
Iwuseboy to take a bag of
the nuts to Holt s !

Smithson was astounded at such generosity, but he

was too well bred to show it; however, when the gour
mand, who was never known willing to relinquish any
thing, offered to keep Holt s supplied with fresh vege
tables that rare boon in that country of sand and
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 121

blasting drought followed by a deluge of eight months

rain Smithson imagined it a chimera of his fever-
laden brain.
"

God a Mighty," he exclaimed when he and Hunting

don were homeward bound, such unheard-of generosity
"

will simply upset the whole colony. It s the first time

in the gourmand s history that he s given away anything

to eat as for vegetables, Lord, they re worth their

weight in gold ! You ve no idea what garden-making

is out here and how rare it is for European seeds to

germinate. This generosity s the most surprising thing

that s ever happened on this coast it ll simply upset ;

the colony !
"

Sadler was delighted. He knew Huntingdon was a

one-time winner, and with the joy of a mischievous boy,
he spread the wondrous news of the Great White King s

conquest of the half-breed gourmand. Moore was con

sumed with jealousy, so were the other traders, and the
natives marveled what manner of a white man he was
who could conquer the all-powerful and much-feared
Douane!
 CHAPTER VIII

THAT night Moore greeted his guests with cocktails

already mixed and a shout to his two boys :
"

Pass
"

chop!
Although his bungalow was flush with the sand, and
its veranda small, yet throughout the little establish
ment order and cleanliness prevailed.
A lamp with a colored shade hung low over the table,
and threw a roseate glow over everything. The table
was well-laid and spotless the linen well laundered the
; ;

silver, china and glass, though of inferior quality, shone

from vigorous polishing, and at each plate was this
menu, elaborately written with much flourishing of ink :

Lentil soup.
Eggs fried in butter with sauce tomato.
Fresh fish avec sauce de vin blanc.
Pati de f ois gras a la Chinoise.
Lettuce with mayonnaise.
Braised celery. Grilled poulet avec dressing francaise.
Chocolate custard with whites of eggs on top.
Red and white wine, brandy, creme de menthe. Caf6 noir. Tea.
Chocolate candy.

Despite the execrable French of the menu, every dish

was delicious, the service first-class, but to Huntingdon
blatant and jarring was Moore s boasting: butter, eggs,
milk, potatoes and fresh vegetables though ordinary in
civilizationwere luxuries there; butter and milk were
obtainable only in tins and were very expensive pota- ;

122
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
toes cost two shillings the kilo from German steamers,
as for vegetables, after I heard you made such a
"

grand-slam to-day with the gourmand, I sent a book

telling him you were coming to chop to-night and asking
what fresh stuff he could contribute. He sent the let
tuce and six fresh eggs, voua le cutard!
"

The other three men gazed in amazement at Moore,

then little Sadler cried:
"

Moore, you ve got the g d est nerve of any

white man I ever heard of Striking the gourmand for
!

chop when you know bally well he hates you

"

Oh, he accuses everybody of making out false ex

"

port vouchers," Moore defended. "

I say, Huntingdon,
is chop, n est ce pas?
"

this is
chop as
"

Very fine, indeed, Mr. Moore. We must try to get

a decent cook, gentlemen," and Huntingdon addressed
Sadler and Smithson.
Sadler agreed.
"

Yes, it s all in the servants,"

don know, I think the man at the head s what

"

Oh, I t

counts," bridled Moore. If a white man s slack, his "

surroundings are slack. I won t put up with it."

"

Ah, gwan,"
sneered Sadler, come up to Holt
"

s to
morrow night and we ll serve you grub that ll put yours
in the fo cas le class."

Best find a chef first," admonished Smithson.

"

Leave that to me," and Sadler thought of the ab

"

ducted Loango. Might as well bring up those

"

cheroots, Moore you ;

ll have to pay em."
"

You talk like a drunken man," gibed Moore.

"Find a chef! Where ll
you get him? Besides you
haven t linen and dishes enough to set before even a
half-breed."
 "

You can t eat dishes and tablecloths but I ll

guarantee you mil devour but Sadler got no further, "

for a big scorpion fell from the rafters to his head and
bounced to his plate. He jumped up with a yell and
commanding a boy to take the thing away and kill it,
he rammed his wide-awake low on his head and advised
the others to put theirs on too. The conversation thus
drifted to deaths from poisonous insects, from snakes
and wild animals, leopards in particular. Huntingdon
thought the long-bowing on the Nigeria was pretty far
fetched, but it was nothing in comparison to that now
indulged in for his benefit. Sadler passed on to the
tenderfoot the delightful (?) stories heaped upon him
on his arrival on the coast, augmented by his personal
experiences and the promptings of Moore and Smithson.
Coffee, tea, cigars and creme de mentlie were served
on the veranda.
The night was hot and still save for the insect life
that sings and chirps through the African darkness and
the white men were enjoying a smoke in silence, when,

suddenly, a harsh, discordant bell struck near at hand,

causing Smithson to start violently and to curse Moore.
"

I never hear the bally thing,"

Moore defended.
"

But the watch don t know that. He sounds the bell

every half-hour; it keeps him awake and the logs don t

get away with the tide. I say, Huntingdon, when you
take charge, begin by being master and remaining so ;

give your orders and make them be carried out; a

negro don improve by petting; once you treat him
t

as a human
being, he has nothing but rotten contempt
for you, and "

Who wants a sermon

"

Sadler cut in. Come on, !

" "
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 125

Moore, order a cashing-go and a lantern and let s give

the tenderfoot a lesson in blackbirding ."

Ashort distance across the plain the bamboo shacks

of the natives, with thatched roofs, stood on either side
of a narrow, hard-beaten road, and the little town was

wrapped in slumber, but in another second, it was awake

and in panic. Sadler kicked in doors, flared a lantern
in sleeping faces, and forced men, women and children

into the open.

The majority of them were undraped others had their ;

loin cloths torn offby Moore and Sadler. The savages

were forced to dance to the tempo of cashing-gos
beaten livety upon their nude bodies. They took any
pose and executed any movement to escape the blows of
their white tormentors.

Huntingdon was disgusted. A natural, willing native

dance, no matter of what abandon, would have interested
him, but not that banal farce.
He turned away, when Moore flung a young girl to
wards him, crying:
G wan, Huntingdon, take her for a wife. She s a
"

beaut."

The girl cowered, affrighted, but, recognizing the

Great White King, she timidly put her arms about him
and silently begged his protection. Gently, the white
man lead her to her hut, put her in and closed the door.
Chivalry towards a savage woman sent the other white
men into hysterical laughter and brought forth such
loathsome suggestions, that abruptly Huntingdon sum
moned Mbega and a lantern and went home. So stern
was he that none of the others had the courage to stay
him or utter a word.
126 HELL S PLAYGROUND
In the morning Chief Ragundo of the Ouroungoes
number of his most eligible women, hoping
called with a
that the Great White King would purchase one for a
wife, but Smithson, then sober, spared Huntingdon by

sending the old chief away with gifts of rum and tobacco
for himself and his women.

Huntingdon had been silent all morning and tried to

seek seclusion in his room. To ease the tension, Sadler

suggested a hunt for the morrow Sunday, and

Ogula, the shootman, was summoned.
Guns were gotten out, overhauled and loaded ;
belts

were stuffed with ammunition and a start at four in the

morning was agreed upon.
As it was then Saturday afternoon, Smithson and
Sadler, accompanied by Huntingdon, went to the fac
tory to help Itula pay off the crewboys.

Huntingdon got first lesson in native trading.

his

Although the natives were eager to exchange their wages

for the white man s goods, they haggled so long and

changed their minds so often that the white men lost

their tempers and consigned them to perdition and eter
nal torture by way of shoving them none too gently out
of the factory. Instead of driving them away, it caused
them to return ;
their decisions were prompt and soon
the tiresome week-end business was over with.

Keenly interested, Huntingdon stood to one side, tow

ering head and shoulders over the other white men.

Sharp, too, was the contrast between them and him.

They wore old singlets and trousers and indifferent sus
penders ; their great felt hats were pushed far back on
their heads, they were soaked with perspiration and
plainly disturbed by the heat, the exertion of trading
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 127

and the actions of the natives. If the heat depressed

Huntingdon, he did not show it. As usual he was in

fresh whites and well-groomed, his pose was indolent,

graceful and easy, but his eyes and mind were active.
Those were the people who must aid him wrestle wealth
from their land ;
he must know them, if he were to suc
ceed and succeed he would for he had set his mind
upon it and for a man of his determination to aver is to
do. Something of the meaning of the tremendous task
he had taken upon himself was slowly dawning upon
him, and, like the men of his race when combat is immi
nent, he was girding his loins for the fight. He had to

go it alone and he determined to conserve all his energies

for the effort.
He had not the slightest idea what tremendous effect
his imperious looks and seemingly indifference were
having on the natives. His thoughts were not once on
himself, but on the work ahead of him, and when men
and women murmured towards him :

*
Tata otangani Huntingdon," he not only did not
"

know the meaning of the words but he never once sus

pected that it was their voluntary acknowledgment of

his superiority and their acceptance of him as their
Great White King. But Sadler and Smithson knew
the meaning of those words and the actions of the na

tives, and when, at sundown, French, Belgian, Swiss, and

German traders called to welcome
Huntingdon to the
coast, little Sadler took great pains to tell them all about
the sensation Huntingdon made and the unsolicited

homage the natives rendered him.

Moore swaggered in at dinner time. He was posi-
i
Huntingdon, Great White King.
128 HELL S PLAYGROUND
had found no cook and he was fully prepared
tive Sadler

to demand the immediate payment of the cigars. Great

then was his astonishment and chagrin when promptly
at 7:30 Makaya sent in an excellent dinner and proved
himself to be the best chef in the whole of the Congo

Fran9ais. Moore paid his loss with good grace, and,

although he could not coax from the little skipper how
the chef was secured, when he left, Sadler told the whole

story in detail to the others and sent them to bed laugh

ing and happy.
At four o clock Sunday morning, Huntingdon and
Ogula were on hand all read} for the hunt, but it was
7

noon before Sadler and Smithson arose. Sadler ex

plained he wouldn t hunt on Sunday not because he
held sacred the day but that he wanted to get one "

in on old man Holt by hunting on a work-day." Smith-

son confessed that he was too nervous to hold a gun, but
both white men solemnly promised to set out early the
next morning without Moore, who was never known to
keep appointments or promises.
Again Ogula was admonished to be ready in the morn
before sun he ketch for top and while moon he
"

ing
live."

The stolid face of the big savage betrayed nothing of

his thoughts, but, when Huntingdon asserted that he
must hunt if only for the exercise,
Ogula drew himself
up, and, looking full into the face of Huntingdon, said
earnestly :

"

I savvy, King Huntingdon. live for

Ogula come."

Sadler was highly pleased at.Ogula s evident liking

for the tenderfoot and he remarked to Smithson that it
was well Huntingdon was in the service of John Holt
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 129

else he would have the natives begging him for work

all

and trading with him to the detriment and loss of the

other trading houses.
The Sunday afternoon dress parade was the largest
and most gorgeous Cape Lopez had ever seen, all on
account of the Great White King, whose fame was
spreading throughout the land.
The wives of the white men were conspicuous in
mother hubbards, but no petticoats stood out as at Sierra
Leone and no wads of fat were distorted into bunches
as was the case with the corsetted native women who
had boarded the Nigeria off Calabar in Southern Nige
ria. The majority of the Cape Lopez women wore new,
bright loin cloths, turbans made from gaudy silk ker
chiefs, and tightly rolled black, European umbrellas bal
anced crosswise on their heads. Men were clad in odds
and ends of cast-off European attire; new and old
trade cloths; flannelet nightshirts and singlets. One
dandy was conspicuous in a brilliant red trade cloth, a
khaki coat with huge brass buttons, a white plush high
hat and a walking stick thick as a bludgeon. Every
head turned to look after him, and at either side of him
trotted a boy and girl aged about four, nude as the

day they were born. Smithson explained that no mat

ter how keenly the winds blew, children were seldom
bundled up, while their elders not only put on all the
clothing they possessed, but wrapped their heads and
throats with woolen scarfs and at night all negroes slept
with their heads towards the fire and their feet out in
the cold.
The European hat of a by-gone period led to a dis
cussion of the trading days in the Sixteenth Century
130 HELL S PLAYGROUND
when wily Dutch merchantmen exchanged old hats and
perukes for rubber, ivory, beeswax and the strands of
the elephant s tail. From the latter necklaces and brace
lets are made and so universally are they worn by natives

of all ages and sexes that Smithson opined they were

It s strange," Smithson
"

the oldest jewelry extant.

such a huge creature as the elephant
"

concluded, why
has such a small tail and why a tiny monkey has such
a large one."

"

I know
why," spoke up
Sadler after the manner of
a small boy eager to reply to a question of the teacher,
monkeys need long tails to swing from tree to tree
"

when promenading, but if an elephant had as long a tail

as his big body entitles him to, when the drivers are on
a rampage, every creature from a cockroach to a leopard
would leap on the fleeing elephant s tail and the poor
beast would be so overloaded that he d drop down and
then the drivers would chop him tail and all; so the
firstelephant mother, wise in her generation, broke off
the tail of her first daughter and exacted from the child
an oath to continue the practice with her daughter and
thus send the custom down through succeeding years so ;

when the drivers come and every living thing flees for
before them, the elephant has as good a chance of
its life

escape as has a snake or a leopard or an antelope."

And where might you have gained such wisdom, my
"

dear Sadler?"
Huntingdon asked, amusement and af
fection in his tones.
I not only took it in with
"

my mother s milk but I

learned from countless bob-hang-overs at London
it

music and concert halls and from six-penny popular

editions for which all my boyish earnings were spent and
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 131

for which extravagance I got many lamb -bastings from

my darling mother; which said beatings were so fre
quent that at night I never could sleep until two things
happened," and Sadler stopped to light a cigarette.
"What things?" demanded Smithson, like Hunting
don highly interested and admiration and affection ap
parent in his voice.
"

I got the beating and said my prayers."

"

No doubt you deserved the beatings," laughed Hunt

ingdon.
"

I was the biggest devil the Lord ever let live with
out punishing him unless you call my being here in
Hell s
Playground punishment, and I came here of my
own accord because not a living soul is left me at home,"
then, conscious that he was growing sentimental, he
cried comically :
"

O Great White King, have you no

ticedwhat perpetual hunting the niggers find in their
own wooly heads and how they are always slaughtering
game, preferably in the sight of the white man ? "

"

Yes, I ve noticed it and I d clip every native s head

close, if I could
"

Don t do it !
"

broke in Smithson ;
"

leave something
to the imagination."
The Dress Parade continued until sundown. All Cape

Lopez knew that Huntingdon had not yet selected a wife

and every woman considered herself a candidate for the
position and was out in all her finery hoping to arrest
his eye. Back and forth they paraded slowly, stopping
now and then to glance back, presumably to see who was
following or what was happening behind, but in reality
as an excuse to linger in front of Holt s bungalow.
Because of the heat and the sun s
glare the white men
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
were not visible, but the keen eyes of the savages dis
cerned their white-clad forms behind the bamboo shades.
However, there was one woman in Cape Lopez who did
not participate in the exhibition and Sadler and Smithson
remarked her absence.
She was Ndio, the Gabonaise, mistress to the Com
mandant.
"

She s too imperious to indulge in any such vulgar

ity,"
said Smithson.
"

A good-looking woman don t have to chase a

man he does the chasing," said little Sadler. "

I say,

Huntingdon, this Gabonaise s a hummer. Take her

from the Commandant all s fair in wench- and trade-

palaver out here, and she won t be nearly so hard to

seduce as was the Loango. I confess, however, Moore,
Smithson and yours truly had a go at the seduction
game, but she wouldn t even turn her nose up at us ;
we re not in her class. She goes in only for the best,
and as you re a topnotcher and a really truly Great
White King, send for her and she ll come one time."
Think she would, old chap? remarked Huntingdon,
" "

highly amused. look her up at the first oppor

"

I ll

tunity and make a proposition of marriage to her

"

all of which he had no intention of

doing. Not that
women did not appeal to him, but he meant to be true
to Marjorie; besides, he needed all his vitality for the
battle ahead of him.
Sundown brought Moore, polished and clean and red
olent of trade scent, He didnt even take the trouble,

so he explained to Huntingdon, to arise for the hunt;

he knew Smithson and Sadler had no notion of going;
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 133

however, lie would take Huntingdon alone to the bush

on the morrow ; he was never known to break a ren "

dezvous or fail a friend."

"

Rats!" was Sadler s terse ejaculation.

 CHAPTER IX
HUNTINGDON was sound when a light touch on
asleep
his arm startled him and caused him to reach for his

revolver, but a hand stayed him and Ogula whispered :

"

Master, moon he die. Time tek walk fer bush.

Me, Mbega, Ora, ready, one time."

By the aid of a lantern, Huntingdon silently, and

quickly dressed. He felt like a convict without his

morning tub, but he was trying his best to comply with

Africa ways. s

Shouldering his magazine rifle, he set forth.

On the veranda he paused, fascinated by the scene
before him.
Black night still reigned, but on the beach there leapt
forth a blazing fire, around which were gathered shades,

large, repellent and unnatural, demons from

like

the underworld plotting man s destruction. It was the

watch about which were gathered Ndatuma, the
s fire

watch, Ogula, Mbega and Ora.

Huntingdon advanced boldly. Though his feet made
no sound on the heavy sand, the savages were aware of
his approach. They received him in silence. Mbega
took a kettle from the fire and poured hot coffee into a
tin. Unhesitatingly, as though he had never heard of
secret poison, the white man drank the coffee.
The eyes of the savages were full upon him. Never
did he look so noble, so fearless never did the blood of;

134?
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 135

his proud ancestors so gloriously show itself Tall and

!

magnificent as was the savage, Ogula, the white man

held his own. Each was an excellent specimen of his
race: the crude, unlettered bushman, and the hyper-
man one a slave to fetishism, degrading
civilized white ;

superstitions ;
the other a product of civilization, an ob
server of God s laws ; one of the equator with its torrid

heat and blasting sun the other of the north with its
;

cold, gray winters and delightful summers one, un ;

clothed and revelling in that nudity the other clothed

;

from head to heel and comfortable in that clothing ;

one, as black as the shades of night and as mysterious ;
the other, white, like the day, to be read by him who
would.

Huntingdon became conscious of the uncanny still

ness ofall things and the insistent stare of the savages.

The Bay of Mandji, as the natives call

Lopez Bay,
was a vacant, silent void, save, now and then, when its
waters stole on the beach with a sigh, as though a rest
less soul had found repose, while the fire s red glow

emphasized the size and brutality of the savages and

glinted along their keen hunting knives peeping from

out their cloths.

Mechanically, Huntingdon s fingers felt for the trig

ger of his gun. According to habit, when he set out,
he was well provided with gold. Had Ogula seen it and
had his murder been planned?
Suddenly funereal wings scraped over Huntingdon s
helmet and, at the same moment, an unearthly scream
;

came from the bush beyond !

Fear, absolute fear, held this son of the Bedfords

and the Granvilles. Fear of the unknown : Africa s
136 HELL S PLAYGROUND
sleeplessmystery and her peoples that thing encircling ;

his head, and the weird cry from the shadowy bush !

Huntingdon longed to slay the creature over his head,

but he had not the strength to move a muscle Like !

one petrified he stood, his eyes in the eyes of the savages.

The fire seemed to glow brighter; to hunt out his
cowardice, to expose it to those stolid, silent, observant
savages. He suffered eons of misery. Then the thing
above his head flew into the fire.
Itwas a bat, only a bat !

Again came the unearthly screech from the bush, and

Plantaineater Ogula, the savage, grunted.
" "

Huntingdon was himself again. Lightly he held

forth the tin for more coffee.
Then Ogula
delivered a speech, slowly, deliberately
and impressively, evidently the verdict of a conference.
Master Huntingdon, him be proper white man.
"

Me, Ogula, and Mbega and Ora and Ndatuma be him

friends."
proper
"

Aye," grunted the others.

Thus Huntingdon passed muster with the savages.
Not only were his height, his kingly bearing, his ap
parent blond beauty extremely impres
fearlessness, his
sive in the fire s light, but his hunting togs confessed a

knowledge of hunting, of the bush and its ways. His

suit and helmet were of dark green khaki, which har
monizes best with sandy wastes and dank jungle.
Had he come forth in staring white or in yellow khaki,
likemost tenderfeet, a shining target for skulking game,
the savages would have grunted their contempt and fol
lowed him begrudgingly.
Ogula said something in the native dialect, and,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 137

througli throbbing somnambulance, along the heavy,

sandy beach, Ora led the way, carrying a lighted lantern.
All was silent and dark within the few habitations of
the white men. No guard stood before the Comman
dant s and the Douane s.
How easy it would be for the savages to steal upon
and rid themselves of their oppressors Huntingdon !

wondered what stayed the hand of the black man.

Their present condition under the French government
was not a comfortable one and it was growing daily

more intolerable.
But Huntingdon s thoughts did not dwell long upon
the black man s sorrows. With every step he took the
wine of life flowed more blithely through his healthy
veins and the spirit of adventure was quick with him.
He first African hunt
was off on his to penetrate for ;

the time the primeval world of which he was totally

first

ignorant to pit his training against the natural cun

;

ning of its denizens.

He wondered what game he would bag. He hoped
he would get an elephant and a buffalo he longed to ;

take back to Holt s big game worth while. Recalling

that he was in the gorilla country of Paul du Chaillu,
he wondered what he would do were he to meet a gorilla
face to face ! Great indeed is the creature s
strength,
and the rencounter would not be a pleasant one unless
Huntingdon sighted him at a distance great enough to
blaze away with his .303 loaded with soft-nosed bullets.
And the monkeys? Would they throw cocoanuts at
him, and why couldn t he trap a number of them, teach
them to play polo and take them home with him for the
amusement of ennuyed men and women?
138 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Marjorie should have all sorts of interesting crea
tures. He would start them to England in the early
spring, so that they would have the summer
months in
which to become acclimated. He would have to send
something else than birds and animals to his mother; she
did not like animals. She tolerated the hounds only
because they were part of their country life. If he only
had the hounds with him now Would they not point
!

the game? But, alas, the equatorial sun would compel

their being tied up in the shade all day long, and to an
animal a leash is torture. No, they were better at
home ;
so were his polo pony and Bryce, his valet. But
hismother and Marjorie could not understand why left
behind were the animals and the valet and other things
to which he had all his life been accustomed. Was
Africa not like India, with all the niceties and sociability
of diplomatic circles? Was he not off for a ripping
good time among civilized men and civilized surround
ings? Oh, yes, he was off for a ripping time, midst
enchanting surroundings, but the voyage out was such
a long one he did not care to have the hounds and the

pony he loved submitted to close confinement on ship

board, and as for Bryce, he was old and his wife was
blind and his place was at home with her. Anyhow,
there were many trained native servants and Hunting
don would have as of them as were necessary for
many
his comfort. So the truth was kept from the two
human beings Huntingdon loved best and they had not
the slightest idea of the real environment in which
he was to dwell for the next three years. His letters
written on board the Nigeria spoke only of the interest
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 189

of the long voyage as Huntingdon viewed it from

Liverpool to Sierra Leone and after that he invented
pleasantries.
These thoughts, too, were brushed from his mind, for,
like the men of his race, body and soul he surrendered
himself to the thing at hand. So to the bush he marched
blithely, whistling merrily, to the delight and wonder of
the savages, for they do not whistle.
Nor was he ruffled when he found Moore still asleep.
He go alone into the bush with
reveled at the chance to
the savages. Suppose they did murder a white man for
a mere blanket suppose they murdered him now for his
;

firearms and the money he had about him? Every

hunt has in it the danger of exploding firearms and
attacks from wild beasts and serpents. Multiplied
dangers only enhance the joy of braving them.
Huntingdon tried to make himself clear in the little

pidgin English he had picked up.

Ogula, you fit fer tek Master Huntingdon for bush
"

for look bushcow? "

"

I fit, Master, proper fit,"

and Ogula reared his head
proudly.
"

You savvy them bush, Ogula."

"

Me? I savvy him proper. Me, be proper shoot

I

man mpolo, mpolo,

1
Me I mek so aver since I be small

boy all same so "

and he measured a trifle above the

white man
Then, with eloquent gestures and in
s knee.

low, guttural tones, he pantomimed game, little and big,

timid and bold.

Huntingdon instinctively read human beings ; let

i
Great, great.
140 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Ogula be otherwise a murderer, a liar and a thief, there
was no doubt he was bold, strong and experienced in
woodcraft.
gimme me nuther shootman ? he sud
"
"

Master fit

denly demanded.
"

I fit."

"

We look um," and Ogula led the way south along

the beach to some rude huts hidden among the bamboos
and mangroves. In one of them he held short converse.
He emerged, followed by a savage larger and more mag
nificent than himself. He, like Ogula, wore the scanti
est of loin cloths, but, instead of a gun, he was armed
with a long spear, pointed with iron.
Him be my proper brudder, Master," explained
"

Ogula, proudly.
"

Him and me have all same mudder

and fadder. Him name be Nkombi Kakhi. We be
Nkomis from Mboue. Him savvy Englis for him
mouth, all same like me, Ogula, him brudder."
Good evening, Master Huntingdon, tata otangani
"

mpolo," said Nkombi Kakhi solemnly. I be proper

"

shoot man, all same like my brudder, Ogula Kakhi.

I fit fer take walk for bush. Fouru mbani, mbani,"

and he held four fingers before the lantern.

Huntingdon comprehended he was naming his wages
for the day. They were four something, but what, he
had no means of knowing.
Fouru mbani, mbani be
"

all right,"
he agreed.
grunted Nkombi Kakhi.
"

Aye,"

Without further palaver the line of march was formed,

and, in single file, the men started for the bush.
Nkombi Kakhi led the way ; then came Ora with the
lantern and Huntingdon s scatter gun ; Ogula with his
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 141

blunderbuss on his shoulder and a bark powder box

slung across his broad back Huntingdon with his rifle,
;

and, last, Mbega with a chop box on his head and sev
eral sticks of manioc dangling from his neck.
The one-man-wide path zigzagged across the Plains
of Mandji, and not a word was spoken. The stars were

large and near, scintillating like great arc lights, and,

now and then, one of them plunged headlong into limit
less space.
How seemed: no hunting party in pink
strange it all

and spurs no horses, no dogs, no retainers, none of the

;

fanfare accompanying a made-to-order hunt at home,

where men ride recklessly after hounds to round up a
lonely fox, or a hare, or possibly both !

Suddenly a dark wall arose.

"

Bush," grunted Ogula, the shootman. No fit to

"

look um till
day he ketch," and he dropped on the
ground, followed by the others.
The minutes dragged slowly.
The night chorus swelled louder and louder: frogs,
crickets, cicadas, katydids,
sang in tuneless stridulation,

insistentand rasping.
In the bush beyond there was a cracking of twigs,

betraying the prowling of wild beasts suddenly, a ;

monkey screamed like a frightened woman; a hyena

laughed in harsh staccato, and the thin cry of bats
was followed by a cough, on the ground and near at
hand.
an awesome whisper,
"

Njego" muttered Ora, in

hastily smothering his light.

The heads of the savages bent low; they listened with

every sense alert, their hunting knives ready.

142 HELL S PLAYGROUND
a
Huntingdon never knew how close death was as
leopard slunk by intent upon a gazelle.
Then there came a cracking of twigs, the startled,
sharp cry of the gazelle, a short struggle, and
the rapid

flight of the bush cat.

The savages relaxed they stretched full length on the

;

ground danger from that source had passed.

;

Silence fell, deep, profound, terrible. It held more

menace than did the pulsating, unseen life so suddenly

and mysteriously hushed.
The savages were so quiet they might have been part
of inanimate nature herself.

Night s dewy breath burrowed to the very marrow

of Huntingdon s bones. Yet he feared to shiver, feared
to break that all-embracing, terrifying stillness. It had

fallen swiftly and without warning as though some

monster had gripped all nature by the throat and throt

tled her before she had time even to gasp !

Huntingdon of the savages.

felt the superiority They
rested, tranquilly and naturally, while he was agitated
and unnatural. If now, in the darkness, in that clammy
stillness, he must needs battle for his life, what availed
the schooling of civilization against the natural cunning
of the savage?
After all, what is civilization? Can it overcome death
when the final summons comes? Can it alter one little
law in the vast infinite? On the threshold of the Great
Unknown does the civilized not suffer more acutely
than the savage? His the power to conjecture the
hinted-at might-be s of eternity. Save where the witch
doctor, the sorcerer and secret poisons are concerned,
the savage knows no mental torture, he knows naught of
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 143

the agony of the sins of commission and of omission, the

dreadful knowing of hydra-headed Remorse Is he not !

then superior to the white man? Does not his very

savagery, his ignorance, clothe him in a sort of bravery
impossible to the civilized? Huntingdon s thoughts
suddenly failed him, for, without warning, a cry, sharp
and cut the uncanny stillness, and Huntingdon
shrill,

shivered with fright. He held his breath, waiting for

he knew not what, when other cries of the same timbre
followed, and a flock of partridges flew from their roost

ing place!
Day he ketch," and Ogula pointed towards the east.
"

Out of the womb of blue-black night there crept an

ethereal blue, that blue that makes of Africa a dream
world of entrancing delights a creation of Merlin, the;

magician, where shadows are noiselessly banished and

into being comes day s countless glories.

Drowsily the bay awoke from the arms of Shadow-

land. It stretched itself languorously and amorously.
Its impressionable bosom reflected the sky s soft color

ing, while towards Fetish Point, whitecaps

away off,

danced, where bay and ocean met.

Again the pageant of morning enthralled Hunting
don. He would have liked to dream on, for several hours
until the sun arose, but in the bush the chase beckoned,
and the savages were already on the march.
"

Plenty beef tek walk," exclaimed Nkombi Kakhi, his

eyes keenly searching the plains.
"

Master fit fer tek

"

plenty, mpolo!
Huntingdon hid his amazement as signs unnoticed by
him were readily interpreted by those men of the bush.
Yet all his faculties were at work. He determined to
144 HELL S PLAYGROUND
learn the ways of the wild folk to fashion his behavior
;

after that of the savages, for he realized that hunting

in Africa was a science in itself.
He
followed the savages into gloom and dampness the ;

air was heavy and foul; his new, leather hunting boots
slipped repeatedly and he would have fallen but crowd
ing vegetation at which he blindly clutched kept him up
right. The path was narrow, and he could not see it;

he wondered how the savages went along so rapidly and

sure-footed and how they protected their eyes from the

swaying overgrowth. He lowered his chin and let his

stout helmet bear the brunt of it. He felt as though he

were burrowing after some beast through walls of dense
growth which threatened every second to close in upon
and smother him he was drenched to the skin with per
;

spiration and the heavy dew which dripped all about it

as though were raining; but not a protest or sign of

it

weariness escaped him as he followed close on the heels

of his guides with Mbega just behind him.

Gradually, the shadows lifted and revealed was the

jungle !

Time and time again had Huntingdon tried to picture

the primeval bush, but not once had his mental camera

registered anything like that Garden of Nature run riot.

The growth was astonishingly dense, forming galleries

shadowy, mysterious and leading far away.
intricate,
There were labyrinths within labyrinths, a network of
tangled vines and creepers decorated lavishly, wantonly
and superbly. Not the slightest thing, high or low, was
acquit of burden -b earin g stems of trees, fallen logs,
:

and interlaced lianes contained worlds of their very own,

as green upon green and all shades of green were crowd-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 145

ing, pushing, fighting for space, climbing up and ever

up away from density, shadows, foul miasmas and dank,
reeking vegetable mold towards the heights where the
sun shone and winds frolicked and the rains fell.

The lush and reek of green, of every hue and shade,

would have depressed, repulsed, had not artistic Nature
blended with itbold splashes of brilliant, harmonizing
colors. Ipomeae shaded from palest blue, through all
the shades of the prism to deepest red broad-leafed ;

Hibisci flowered with white and yellow blooms deep ;

yellow Thunbergia and gorgeous-hued Convolvuli peeped

forth here and there and everywhere great mangroves;

blushed in scarlet berries and silk cottonwoods rollicked

with bursting, downy pods. Timid orchids of various
hues encouraged by bold elephant-ear ferns, a sort of
lichen that grew to the trees, crawled up and ever up
to great heights where garlands of aromatic jessamine

swayed to and fro in the very ecstasy of life and where

the climbing calamus palm, a dainty, green fringe hung
in fascinating festoons, forming the crowning glory to
the parasitical growth of bizarre forms which every
where arrested the eye and impeded progress !

Huntingdon stepped aside to possess himself of an

Argrcecum orchid.
Crash !

He wallowed inmire which clung to him like axle

grease. He regained his footing with difficulty. What
looked like solid earth was but dense growth mask
ing malodorous, underworlds, grewsome
pestilential
and repellent, the home of creeping, crawling, eye
less things, the grave of bloom and leaf and shrub and
tree!
146 HELL S PLAYGROUND
But never was grave so cunningly and fascinatingly
hidden.
There were thorny shrubs ; prickly smilax ; stout reed

Costus, fully fifteen feet high ; gigantic clumps of gray-

green grasspurple-leafed Cissus; aloes blushing in
;

coral reds masses of Zingeberaceae and Arums with

;

gorgeously colored leaves midst a perfect wilderness

of stemless ferns drooping like huge plumes and swaying
at the slightest touch of human or of beast.
Trees were many and diverse of all sizes and shapes,
;

health and vigor, youth, and old age, decline and death !

Termites, too, were there, always hungry, never satisfied,

never at rest! Time, too, demanded his toll. Many
died that fewer might live. The battle for the survival
of the fittest was relentlessly and continuously fought ;
life and death walked hand in hand ;
the seared, the

yellow, looked over the shoulder of youth and bloom ;

autumn and summer seasoned together as growth upon

growth, a hungry horde, an army of green, fought for
lifeand supremacy, midst dull obscurity and eternal
gloom and foul-smelling, poisonous vapors !

Huntingdon reveled in it all now depressed when

sinking in mire and leaf-mold, now elated when on firm
ground he stopped to admire the different blooms,
delicate, fragileand without perfume.
He wished Marjorie were with him to enjoy it. He
knew he could never effectively describe it to her for
to no humanis given the art to
paint Nature in all her
nuances, to tint with words a faithful reproduction of
the real !

Nkombi Kakhi stood silently by Huntingdon as he

examined the bush.Unknown to the white man, the
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 147

black man s keen eyes pierced shadows underneath and

overhead. Danger was everywhere above and below, !

and roundabout; it might come any second, from any

direction and the savage was acutely alert.
A strong, disgusting odor assailed Huntingdon s nos
trils, overpowering even the jungle s dank breath.

"Him be cat," explained Nkombi Kakhi. "White

man call urn civet. Plenty live." Then, after a pause,

the savage said, with pride Black man too, :
"

him got
name for all t ing what live for we country."
Huntingdon smiled inwardly at the simplicity of the
great bushman. He was as a child enumerating his
toys and naming them.
A plaintive cry came from the gloomy depths, fol
lowed by a quick rustling, coming nearer.
whispered Nkombi Kakhi, as a small,
"

Monkey live,"

yellowish monkey looked mildly down. Then a white-

nosed monkey, a red-headed monkey and a black monkey
became visible, but, startled at the presence of human
beings, they leaped from tree to tree, scrambled over
tangled vines and were gone.
Gorilla he live too?
" "

questioned Huntingdon.
Njina live one, one. Him mek roar so and
" "

Nkombi Kakhi roared deep and long. Pas "

lion for

strong."

Chimpanzee, he too?
" "

live
"

Plenty, plenty."

Nkombi Kakhi was again in the lead, and Huntingdon

followed.
"

Nchouna, nchouna," the savage suddenly shrieked

with terror and was off like mad.

Huntingdon stood still, paralysed with fear.

148 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Was a leopard overhead making ready to spring, or
was a deadly cobra spitting at him from below !

He was not long in doubt.

On body he felt sharp, painful stings. Red-
his entire

brown ants swarmed all over him. At his feet was the
army he had routed. There were millions of them !

Huntingdon croaking about

recalled old Wallace s

the driver ants, corroborated by Sadler, Smithson and

Moore. Woe to the human being who fled not at their
first sting. He never lived to flee again He was de !

voured and his bones picked as clean as though jackals

had been at work !

No doubt about it ;
the drivers could bite.
"

Nchouna, nchouna!
"

warned Nkombi Kakhi from

a safe distance. "

Mek so," and the bushman gestured

for the white man to leap.

Huntingdon did so.

But the stings went with him. They became intoler
able.
"

Fit to tek them so,"

and Nkombi Kakhi indicated
that Huntingdon must strip himself.

Huntingdon s impulse was to scorn the suggestion.

But he was glad to comply and let Nkombi Kakhi help
kill the drivers on his body and rid his clothing of them.
Some distance ahead, the rest of the caravan reposed

upon a fallen log.

"

Nchouna" briefly explained Nkombi Kakhi.

The delay was sufficiently accounted for.
The march proceeded for some time in silence.
Crack it was Ogula s gun that spoke, and at a
" "

sharp command from the savage, Ora was off like an

arrow, bending low the better to pass through the
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 149

tangled growth, while Ogula k ept up a running conver

sation with him, advising what direction to take and
what he would find.

Then Ora uttered one word, and Ogula announced:

"

Him be leopard. Ora look um."

Huntingdon masked
his impatience for his first sight
of an African leopard. He had been told it was more
handsome than the Asiatic, its spots being very distinct
and clear and the coloring more pronounced. He heard
Ora returning through the brush, the twigs breaking
underhis feet, and Huntingdon wondered how one man
could carry a leopard. Verily the savages did strange
and wonderful things !

Nearer and nearer came Ora he was close at hand, ;

and great indeed was Huntingdon s surprise when not

a leopard, but a great eagle was laid at his feet Its !

breast was spotted like a leopard s and it measured fully

seven feet from tip to tip of its wings !

Him be leopard of the air and him

"

name for we peo

ples be guanionien," explained Nkb mbi Kakhi.
Guanionien mek and he worked and arms
"

so," his legs

indicating high, rapid flight.

"

Tree mpolo, mpolo,

never ketch him feet. Him live for top, so and
straight and high went Nkombi Kakhi s arms.
The bird was left behind, and the march proceeded.
The path led into a mangrove swamp where giant
trees with countless branches like wriggling snakes
crawled in all directions.
Huntingdon were s ankles
twisted and tortured from slipping upon the slimy
which, like the fingers of gaunt skeletons, grasp
feelers,
and overthrow the unwary. He was infinitely relieved
when his guides plunged into a morass covered with
150 HELL S PLAYGROUND
papyrus fully eighteen feet high and emerged on the
bank of a picturesque rivulet diapered with duck weeds,
water ferns and ambatch.
The savages balanced themselves on one elbow, and
drank deeply of the running water. The ambatch was
in full bloom, and Huntingdon stooped to examine its

orange-hued flowers, when he drew back, fascinated by

a brilliant monitor lizard, fully six feet long which lay

asleep in the shade, and by the nose of a crocodile

dangerously near. He had no desire for intimate ac
quaintance with the man-eating saurian, and he quickly
moved to the side of Ogula. The latter pointed to a
broad depression which showed plainly through the pa
pyrus on the other side of the stream and grunted:
"

River Horse."

No hippopotamus was but hoof prints lead in

visible,
all directions from the stream, betraying a much-fre

quented drinking spot for game.

Ogula was intently studying the ground.
Beef lib this way," he finally grunted.
"

Disdaining
the sticky depths, he plunged into the morass.

Huntingdon was about to follow, when Nkombi Kakhi

bent his broad back, and lightly carried Huntingdon
across.
A savannah, wind-swept and barren, was reached.
The sun was high in the heavens. After the somber
shadows of the bush glare pained Huntingdon, and
its

the heat was of bake-oven temperature. Yet the open

was a relief after the dank, foul-smelling jungle.
Under the shade of immense cottonwoods at the edge
of the plain, Ogula commanded a halt.
He gave express, minute instructions to Mbega.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 151

Then, followed by Ora and Nkombi Kakhi, he went forth

to reconnoitre.

Mbega at once built a fire of twigs and prepared

Huntingdon s breakfast.
Huntingdon was glad of the rest he was hungry and ;

tired his feet pained him horribly and he was mud and
;

slime almost to his waist and so wet was his coat from
the excessive perspiration that he could have wrung it.
But, as he ate his breakfast of hot coffee, boiled eggs
and bread and butter, his clothing dried, then, stretch

ing himself in the shade, he gave himself to his pipe

and relaxation.
He was too drowsy for thought and was lazily
gazing at Mbega, when he saw the bushboy suddenly
drop on all fours, and, with his great knife in his mouth,

crawl cautiously towards the bush.

Huntingdon was instantly alert; he sat up, grasped

his rifle and waited.
He was conscious of a soft tread in the bush, then
he saw the tall grass move in response to the creature

stealing through it. E er long a tiny gazelle advanced

timidly to the open, and, startled by the on-crawling
bushboy, stood still.
Huntingdon took his sights, but e er his hand could
obey the impulse of his brain to fire, a thrilling tragedy
took place which held him fascinated. huge python A
suddenly seized the gazelle in his teeth, crushed the life
out of then enormously extending his jaws and emit
it,

ting great quantities of saliva, slowly and torturously

he commenced to swallow the gentle creature, head first !

Its sides heaved convulsively and its delicate legs

twitched violently. The spectacle was too much for the
152 HELL S PLAYGROUND
white man, and his soft-nosed bullet flattened itself in
the head of the snake, killing him instantly. The snake
was fully twenty feet long and his coloring was distinc
tiveand beautiful, but Huntingdon would not permit
Mbega to skin him. He wanted none of it he resented ;

the creature attack upon the antelope, yet, had another

s

antelope appeared, Huntingdon would have blazed away

and killed it on sight such is the consistency and

mercy of man !

The noise of Huntingdon s shot brought back the

others.
In a few words, but with eloquent gestures, Mbega
explained what had happened.
It brought forth no comment.

Ogula reported that a herd of buffalo had recently

passed. He suggested proceeding softly, softly to the
leeward.
The trail was taken up.
In silence the hunters crept along the shadowy bush,
at the edge of the plain, then boldly advanced over sun
baked space.
Despite his recent food and
rest, Huntingdon suffered
from and fatigue. For the first time in his life
thirst
his gun was a burden and his
clothing oppressed and
hampered him. He was soft after the sea voyage.
He ought to have had better sense than to set out so
soon on a strenuous hunt !

In a sandy depression was a stagnant pool, from

which Mbega drank greedily. He caught Hunting
don s eye as he arose and from the chop-box he brought
forth a bottle of Bordeaux wine! Huntingdon drank
it
eagerly.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 153

Of course Mbega had drink with him, but Hunting

don had not thought to demand it. However, it was not
Mbega Huntingdon had to thank for his well-supplied
chop-box. It was Ogula, Ogula who had at first glance

recognized in Huntingdon a superior even among white

men a man he was proud
; of and willing to serve a man ;

he was content to call master.

A big chief was Ogula among the Nkomis. His

name meant tornado and Ogula was worthy of that
name. He was fearless and bold. When he once made
up his mind to charge man or wild beast, he never hesi
tated. He rushed forth with incredible speed. He
bore down his prey by virtue of his very audacity.
And over there, behind those squat bushes, Ogula
sat, a little in advance of his white master his ears

attuned to the bush and its myriad sounds, his eyes

in admiration and awe on the strange white man, who

sat silent and indifferent, as though he had known the
bush and its denizens all his life. Ogula thought on
other white men he had served ; men restless, nervous,
without endurance, and at heart cowardly. He had
nothing but contempt all the great contempt of the

savage for any form of weakness. And now to his

country had come a man worthy of respect and faithful
service, a man who was indeed a Great White King !

Thus the wait began.

Huntingdon crouched deep grass bugs of all sorts
in ;

crawled over him wasps

;
buzzed in his ears mosquitoes ;

tortured him and he was covered with sandflies, but he

remained motionless.
He remembered that he and the quarry were stalking
each other. The quarry s life depended upon his eye-
154 HELL S PLAYGROUND
sight, his sense of smell, of hearing; and, most impor
tant of all, he was at home, and on the defensive !

Huntingdon life
depended upon
s his senses, his ability

to make himself a part of his surroundings, to sight and

fire on the instant. His was the greater danger. He
was an intruder, his senses less keenly developed than
that of the beasts !

He noticed how Ogula s skin and dingy loin cloth

toned in with the surroundings. He could not see the
other savages but he knew they were there, inanimate as
the very bush itself!
He determined to endure just as long as the savages
did. To remain inert like them. He pondered on the
astonishing density of, and activity in, the bush.
The seemingly dead spot simply teemed with incessant
life.

Termites were voraciously feeding ants were con ;

structing wonderful houses of clay; drivers were mak

ing a bridge over a depression wasps were busy on mud- ;

houses enormous spiders, the greatest he had ever seen

;

and said to be the largest in the world, were weaving

huge webs.
A green pigeon perched inert upon a bush; here and
there an owl dozed; a sunbird with its peculiarly con

stituted tongue sipped honey from an amaryllis; gor

geous chased each other playfully
butterflies moths ;

were laying eggs bees were gathering honey insect fed

; ;

upon insect ; big preyed upon little.

Birds known only in the museums of Europe were

everywhere :
large turacos magnificent blue plantain-
;

eaters ; gray parrots with brilliant pink tail feathers ;

elegantly plumed peafowls ; pink flamingoes ; white peli-

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 155

cans cranes ibis egrets

; ; ;small, graceful honeysuck-
;

ers sun birds gorgeous as j ewels black swallows with

; ;

a solitary spot like silver on the throat seagulls, herons

;

and marabouts.
Huntingdon s hand was stayed. He knew a time
would come for bird shooting. Now the wait was for
bigger game.
On
the ground were spoor and droppings. Hunting
don studied the difference between new and stale traces.
The sun was overhead.

High noon had come.

The heat was oppressive. It arose from the sandy
wastes in waves, blistering and blasting.

Huntingdon s position became irksome. He could no

longer stand the assault of insects. He longed to get

up and stretch. He essayed to rise, when, on his sensi
tive ear was borne the nervous tread of some animal on
the watch.
Interest banished fatigue.

Again he was motionless. Every sense was alert.

The nervous tread passed to the rear and Ogula be

gan to crawl cautiously forward. Huntingdon fol

lowed. Through an opening in the bush, he saw a sight
that banished all fatigue and brought him the greatest
delight of his whole life.
Rolling on the hot, scrub-grass-dotted plain was the
unsuspecting game a buffalo bull and two cows
: !

Huntingdon s excitement was so intense, that gone was

all precaution. He was on his feet, his eyes along the
barrel of his rifle.

Quick as he was, the game was quicker! Alarmed, it

was on the run, heading for cover.

156 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon forged to the opening, so that impeding
branches would not turn aside his shot.
Ogula was provoked because the white man had so
recklessly disturbed the quarry, but his sullenness was
no sooner born than it gave way to wonder, as Hunting
don s rifle spoke, once, twice, thrice !

A cow dropped in her tracks ; another disappeared

in the bush, wounded, leaving a trail of blood on the
white sand. The bull, the first to scent danger, sud

denly stopped in his mad flight and turned to face his

pursuers !

Huntingdon, Ogula and Nkombi Kakhi were advanc

ing on a quick run. Ogula s gun had not yet spoken,
but as the bull charged furiously forward, he aimed and
fired ! The shot grazed the bull s flank. With head
down, and straight for Huntingdon, the maddened, in

furiated creature charged !

With lowered gun, Ogula was rapidly stuffing shot

home !

Nkombi Kakhi braced himself, his spear held aloft !

Mbega, scared, hugged the earth !

Ora stood still in his tracks. He carried Hunting

don s scatter-gun but he knew not how to use it. Sud
denly he grasped its butt and stood on the defensive !

On came the bull, gaining momentum as he sped !

His eyes were wild and the sun was full in them.
Huntingdon recalled the vindictiveness of the animal,
his almost human desire for vengeance.

Huntingdon was never so sure of eye, nor steady of

nerve and hand. He knew his danger, and beneath it
his judgment was cool, his wits clear!
He meant to plug the beast s eyes, one after the
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 157

other a double shot in which he was proficient, but

o er his head something whizzed through space !

Twas Nkombi Kakhi s spear, hurled with unerring

aim and almost superhuman force !

It caught the advancing beast in the nose and caused

him to throw up his head in protest!
At one and the same time, the guns of Huntingdon
and Ogula spoke!
The double shot was buried in the brute s throat !

So great had been his impetus, that he continued to

plunge forward; then, suddenly, like a lead thing, he

dropped.
Huntingdon rushed forward and was about to bend
over the animal so eager was he to examine his first bush-
cow, when something took him from behind, lifted him
up and deposited him out of reach of the bull s legs !

Twas Nkombi Kakhi, stern disapproval on his face,

and his voice was harsh as he muttered:
"

White man damn fool look niare l

so. Him no be
dead look um !
"

Huntingdon looked.
Fighting to rise, kicking viciously, and endeavoring
to annihilate his enemies, the buffalo finally and reluc
tantly yielded the ghost.
Huntingdon turned to where the wounded cow had
fallen.She was nowhere to be seen A trail of blood !

led to the bush.

it was Ogula who stayed
This time Huntingdon.
Master, niare from bush look white man. White
"

man no fit fer look um. This one, he be plenty, plenty."

The excitement of the chase over, the game bagged,
i Buffalo.
158 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon was suddenly overwhelmed with lassitude ;

he was glad to seek the shade, to stretch out at full

length, to remain tranquil while his hunters took their
first meal of the day then, they too rested, after which
;

the bull was cut down the middle, loaded on bamboo

poles and shouldered by the savages.
The homeward march was slow and tiresome, the least
attractive of the day s hunt, and one which hunters
would cheerfully and gladly dispense with. But all

pleasures have their attendant miseries.

From the spot where the gazelle and python lay, a

pair of vultures arose.

Huntingdon was too tired to shoot at them.

After the sandy, hot plain, the shadows and damp
gloom of the bush were welcome.
Huntingdon was again bathed in perspiration. It
oozed through his cartridge belt. The hat band of his
helmet rubbed his head sore. His ankles twisted and
turned in the underbrush. His feet were burned and
blistered from his heavy shoes. He felt strangely dis

turbed, restless, nervous.

Twas sundown when he reached the bungalow. He
welcomed the sea breeze and uncovered his head.

Smithson, Sadler and Moore were on the veranda

sipping pernaud.
Their excuses were many for not having kept their
engagement.
Moore complained loudest of all. He thought
Huntingdon had never meant to go ; that he was only

bluffing !

As Huntingdon swallowed a great draught of ab

sinthe, he sank heavily into a chair and stretched out his
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 159

legs. His shoes, new that morning, were skinned and

torn.
"

Jove ! the bally things do hurt," was all he said, but

Smithson dropped on one side of him and Sadler on the
other. They removed his puttees and found his ankles
so swollen that the shoe laces were imbedded in and
lacerated the cut the laces, but pull as
flesh. They
hard as they could, the shoes would not budge !

Ogula stood by and tendered his knife.

You butcher them, Ogula," said Smithson.
" "

You
be surer for hand than white man."

Ogula deftly cut the shoes from vamp to tip. Hunt

ingdon s
balbriggan socks were stained with blood and
stuck to his heels.
Before the white men knew what he was about, with
either hand, Ogula had jerked off a sock! Hunting
don s heels were rubbed raw to the bone !

Huntingdon winced once, that was all. He straight

ened himself and tried to push his feet under him, out
of sight, but the white men understood.
Smithson gave quick command.
Ngumbe disappeared, to return with grease, powder,
antiseptic cotton and ligatures.
Gently as a woman, Smithson dressed the heels and
teased :

- "

So the tenderfoot would a-hunting go !

"

"

I went," answered Huntingdon, grimly.

"

And the penalty s not one I d care to pay," croaked

Moore. "

You re liable to have raw heels for an indefi

nite souvenir. Mebbe, they ll never heal in this cli

mate. You ll get craw-craw sure! Well, pleasant

scratching."
160 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

Ah, shut up, you Old-bone-yard," cried Sadler.

Other people s blood ain t as rotten as yours. You ll
"

be all right, Mr. Huntingdon in a few days. Where s

your socks and squeeter boots ?
"

But Huntingdon s feet refused to go into his boots,

soft, pliant and large though the latter were.
Sadler stole off to the factory and returned with an
enormous pair of list slippers.
There s your size, Mr.
"

Huntingdon," he cried.
"

Regular seven leaguers. Into them and don t let me

hear another growl from you !
"

Huntingdon smiled into the little skipper s ruddy,

good-natured, youthful face.
Where was the selfishness the old coasters had
croaked of? Not among those Englishmen.
there
"

Hurrah for the tenderfoot," yelled Sadler.

"

You
got your bushcow, old sport. Blood tells even if it

does trickle out of your heels."

Vivre la France, pomme-de-tcrre-frit," shouted

Moore. "

Who says the English can t shoot !

"

"

You don t call yourself a shot," derided Sadler,

looking the great Moore over insolently.

"

You didn t
show up this morning because you re such a rotten shot
you didn t want to make an ass of yourself before a real
hunter."

"

G wan, you don t know the muzzle from the butt,"

Moore retaliated.
A shrill blast from Smithson s whistle ended the
palaver.
Ngumbe was ordered to get the buffalo ready for

butchering.
There were much shouting and bustle in the rear.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 161

Boys from all directions were gathering for their

share of the beef.
On the plain, women were constructing racks on which
to roast it and children were sent for firewood.
The night was soft and black. The watch s fire
blazed on the beach, and from the Oka a red light
little

shone.
"

Ready, Master," announced Ngumbe.

On the rear veranda a picturesque scene presented
itself.

Huge lanterns hung from the low grass-mat roof

directly over a crude table on which lay the bull, a
hunting knife with an edge as keen as a lancet stuck
in his thigh.

Grouped about with distended eyes and gleaming

and the hunters.
teeth were the crewboys
Their presence had another purpose besides securing
a share of the beef. When a kill is made it is custom
ary to send choice pieces of beef to all white men in
the immediate neighborhood. The boy who delivers it
is sure of a generous portion of tobacco as a reward.

The light fell full upon Smithson as he stood over

the bull. He was in white ; his great felt wide-awake
was on the back of his head and his sleeves were rolled
up. A
refined, quick, bright figure he was, encircled by
black, unclothed, wicked-looking savages, who watched
his every move, striving for the most advantageous po
sitions. Each wanted to be the first to catch the beef
and be off with it, to receive the reward its delivery
would bring. From the shadows, Huntingdon looked
on, intensely interested. Sadler was with him, but
Moore preferred the front veranda and pernaud.
162 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Deftly and expertly Smithson cut up the bull.
The brains and a part of the fillet were hurled at
Makaya, who was commanded to at once prepare a good
supper.
Then followed pretty play and action.
As the pieces of beef were thrown over Smithson s

head, they were eagerly caught, and nimble feet were

off to obey Smithson s commands, which rang out one

after another, clear and peremptory.

"

Mr. Moore, one time !

"

"

The Douane! "

"

The Commandant! "

"

The Chef de Poste! "

Monsieur LeBlanc
"
"

And so on through the list of white men at Cape

Lopez.
Ogula had shouldered the remainder of the beef to be
divided among the men, when Nkombi Kakhi emerged
from the gloom.
"

Master Huntingdon,
foura mbani, mbani," and
again he held up four fingers.
You damned old skinflint," roared Sadler.
"

Four "

francs ! I guess not. Shilling be proper wages for one

day s hunt. Don t give him any more, Huntingdon.
Only sets a bad example and makes us pay more."
"

It s our bargain," and Huntingdon handed over the

money.
"You no dash us tacco and rum?" next asked
Nkombi Kakhi.
It s the
"

after a suc
"

explained Smithson,
custom,"

cessful hunt, or other day s hard work, to set up the

tacco and rum."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 163

"

All right. Let Itula give the proper amount to

Ogula to be divided up and charge it to me."

"

Master Huntingdon be fine too much," said Nkombi

Kakhi, disappearing in the night.
Besides Moore, there were two other guests for din
ner: Monsieur Bouchard, who was to assume command
of the Ville de Maranhao when she came up the coast,
and Monsieur Pottier, who was to succeed Bouchard.
The dark, bushy beards of the Frenchmen formed a
great contrast to the smooth faces of the Englishmen.
There was no elaborately written menu like Moore s ;
the table was in the old slovenly manner; and
laid

Mbega employed the soiled towel, which he kept stowed

between his bare legs when it was not needed. But

Makaya sent in a delicious meal of

Cream of tomato soup.

Grilled fresh mullet with butter sauce.
Bushcow s brains with brown sauce.
Fillet of Bushcow with French fried potatoes.
French pickles. Roast Chicken.
Lettuce salad with French dressing.
Bread. Butter. Gruyere cheese.
Red and white wine. Champagne.
Cafe" noir. Tea.

Monsieur Bouchard declared that the abduction of

the Loango by Sadler was the richest tale Cape Lopez
had enjoyed in many a moon. He mimicked the great
rage of the Commandant; he spoke of the unheard-of
generosity of the Douane in giving edibles to Hunting
don ; and of Huntingdon
fame which was spreading
s

farther throughout the bush, then he asked Huntingdon

to tell him of the day s hunt.

Huntingdon was all enthusiasm. Graphically he set

164 HELL S PLAYGROUND
forth the events of the day. He had
never seen any

thing like the manner in which Nkombi Kakhi hurled his

spear and the ease with which the bull was carried home.
Of his own sufferings he said nothing. However,
Moore did, but Monsieur Bouchard cut in with:
"

If Monsieur Huntingdon will hunt with the same en

thusiasm this time next year as he did to-day, I shall
be enchanted to set up the most recherche feast of which
the Ville de Maranhao is capable."
"

And if Monsieur Huntingdon should not hunt with

the same pleasure one year hence, it will be his delight
to set before Monsieur Bouchard and his friends the
most elaborate feast possible in Cape Lopez," answered
Huntingdon.
Which wager was duly pledged in champagne.
Pettier was small and wiry, with a muddy, pimply

complexion. He had sloping shoulders and wore his

trousers principally about his ankles. He had a lean
and hungry look and appeared as though he couldn t get
enough to eat. He was more interested in the viands
than he was in the conversation, until the coffee was
served, then both he and Bouchard were revelations.

Upon their celebrated actors and writers and painters

they enthused, showing great knowledge of their lives
and their works.
Moore was the only one out of it, for little Sadler
showed a vast knowledge gained in poring over six

penny editions.
Literature from ^Eschylus to Mark Twain was dis
cussed; painting, from Leonardo da Vinci to Sargeant;
sculpture, from Phidias to Rodin ; music, from the an
cient Greek choruses to rag time and cake walks.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 165

Twas midnight when the enjoyable evening ended.

After the departure of the Frenchmen, Sadler bel
lowed over Mbega, who had fallen asleep on the veranda :

On, MacDuff, you fish-scented son of Ham on with

"

your snoring, and be thrice damned if you wake up

before cock s speak."
 CHAPTER X
EARLY the next morning the white men were awak
ened by the excited cry of Ngumbe:
Master, Master, logs no live
"

Tide he take ! um !
"

The dire news brought Smithson, Sadler and Hunt

ingdon with a bound to the veranda. Not a log was
left on the beach and there was evidence that the tide

had been heavy and strong, and that Ndatuma, the

watch, had slept at his post. The rum of the feast the
night before had been too much for him, and, aware of
the great loss of the logs and the punishment he merited
and would surely get, he was hidden in the bush, and he
had sense enough never again to apply to John Holt s
for work.
Smithson s whistle shrieked shrilly, creisiboys came
running, and Sadler commanded :

The gigs one time

"

All hands f or ard we ve got to

!
;

chase up them logs and save as many as possible."

High and dry on the beach were three surf boats,

but there were hands enough only for two. The other
traders were appealed to, but LeBlanc, the Frenchman,
was the only man who sent men, and he loaned five stal
wart Ouroungoes.
Put on all your rags, Huntingdon," little Sadler
"

It s an all-day souse in the briny -

"

advised.

Yes, and take a peg, Huntingdon, a stiff one,"

"

broke in Smithson, who was extremely nervous and was

166
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 167

helping himself to brandy and quinine, and some "

quinine, too it s fever

; for all of us, but if I ever lay
hands on that hound, Ndatuma, I ll murder him in cold
blood. Coffee s all we have time for now, Ngumbe but ;

get chop ready one time, plenty, plenty go to the ;

Commandant, the Douane and Chief Ragundo and tell

them Master Smithson must have crewboys; double
wages for everybody and big dashes of tacco and rum.
Master must have boys!
"

"

I savvy, Master."

Makaya, Makaya," shouted Smithson, and in his

"

nervousness he reiterated his commands no time to ;

"

wait now for breakfast; chop s given to see that plenty

Ngumbe and Mbega, and get it ready one time so s you

can send it as soon as enough boys are found to man
the third canoe, then send it down coast as fast as oars
can pull them, savvy? "

"

Me, I comprends," quietly answered the Loango,

turning again to the galley, where he was heard to com
mand the Jack -wash to get poulets and viands ready "

toute de suite."
Itwas shortly after six o clock when the two canoes
shovedoff, and again Smithson called forth his com
mands to the servants left behind. Again and again
they were cautioned to have plenty of chop and drink
and to get the canoe manned and sent off one time.
The early morning breeze was refreshing, the sea was
choppy, and the tide was favorable. Almost simul
taneously the crews set up a plaintive boat song and
pulled steadily for several hours. The white men re
laxed and rested, but, gradually, the breeze died; the

might of the sun grew momentarily greater and the sea ;

168 HELL S PLAYGROUND
became smooth and gleamed like polished jet. The re
flection from it was so great that Huntingdon s eyes

seemed to bore through his head and his feet were tor
tured almost beyond endurance. Raw and sore though
they were from yesterday s hunt, he had forced them
into tan, waterproof boots, which he then knew were not
the proper sort, and he envied Smithson and Sadler their

mosquito boots and their indifference to the present.

They both slept outstretched in the bottom of the canoe,
their helmets well down over their eyes and their heads
in the slight shade afforded by the thwarts. Hunting
don was seated in the stern with Ora, who held the tiller.

He wore no spine pad and

was as though a steady it

stream of intense heat were playing on his back.

The song of the men ceased ;
their stroke was mechan
ical and not so strong, yet the tide continued with them
and fairly good speed was made.
Suddenly Ora cried :

"

Timber live !
"

Beyond the vision of the white men were the first

beached logs.
Immediately, Smithson and Sadler sat up, alert, and,
hammering on the gunwale with his cashing-go, Sadler
commanded :

" "
1
Negesa, negesa!
The crewboys responded and the canoes shot for
ward.
Abreast of the logs, both white and black men
plunged into the water. The tide was out and there
was no surf. The white men discarded their coats, and,
clad only in singlets and trousers with helmets pushed
i Make haste, make haste.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 169

well down over

their eyes, each of them personally su

perintended the salvage of a log. The work was heavy,

the heat continued to stoke up and there wasn t a breath
of air.

The salt water and his heavy boots caused such acute
agony to Huntingdon s raw heels, that he had a crewboy
pull off his boots,and for the rest of the day, Hunt
ingdon, the erstwhile dandy of Mayfair and Belgravia,
went about unshod like a savage.
"

I say, Smithson," he finally cried,

"

why can t Ora,

the headman, superintend the job and save us this ex
"

posure ?
Because headmen haven
"

any more brains than t

other natives and the latter have none at all. If you

want anything accomplished in this bally country, you ve
got to oversee it yourself. You don t think I m doing
this for the fun of
do you? Left to themselves,
it,

these beggars would have returned with a log one, one,

swearing by all the gods they haven t got that no other

timber was visible within fifty miles. These beasts are
liars of the and Legree s the only
first calibre, sort of a
white man who gets work out of negroes."

Despite his misery, Huntingdon could not help smil

ing at little Sadler. His cheeks were distended by great
wads of chewing tobacco and he cried continuously :

On, on, you hairless Mexican pups, work and it s

"

tacco and rum till your bellies split and your eyes

drop from your lousy skulls On, on, you chocolate- !

hued MacDuffs, and the first nigger who shirks I ll

murder !
"

Huntingdon, too, fell to cursing and belaboring the

natives.
170 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

That s right ; go it, tenderfoot," cried little Sadler,

delighted.
"

A nigger hates a white man s oath worse

than he does his fists, so give em hell and more hell."

Thus, twixt belaboring and cursing and the promis

ing of rewards, the crewboys were urged to greater
efforts.

The white men pulled continuously at brandy, and,

every now and then, Smithson sought the canoe where

he kept his quinine bottle and took large doses of the

drug. Huntingdon, too, took a big dose, but Sadler

continued in his refusal to take any.

High noon and resting time came, but no chop and

Ngumbe appeared. From sun and exposure the white
men were dizzy and faint. Smithson s eyes were sunken
in his head, they glowed unnaturally, his cheeks were
flushed with fever, but not one drop of sweat appeared.
On the other hand, Sadler and Huntingdon perspired
profusely.
Like the white men the negroes had taken no break
fast and the machinery of their bodies was rapidly run

ning down. Their food also depended upon Ngumbe.

Every man longed for a drink of water too, but explora
tion had failed to find water and nobody had thought to
bring any along. Thirsty, hungry and pretty well
spent, work was an effort. Still the white men persisted
and urged the negroes on. Smithson knew that rest and
shade ought to be sought, but he likewise was aware of
the value of the present moments. The remaining logs
were higher up on the beach and the sand in which they
were embedded had dried, making their removal a
stupendous task. Besides, the tide had turned and
although it would eventually float the beached logs, night
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 171

would have then fallen and danger from man-eating

sharks was too great to permit of further work.
At last there came a shout over the water and Ngumbe
arrived with Mbega, chop and fourteen extra crewboys.
It was two o clock.
Rice for the men was immediately portioned out;
1
they separated into jams, a cook to each jam. The
cooks sought wood, made fires and boiled the rice, while
the other crewboys rested in the shade.
In the fetish house of a small, abandoned village just
off the beach were huddled the white men. The house
was merely a roof of dried grass on slanting uprights
which threatened to fall any second, but it afforded the
greatest thing the white man needed, and that was shade.
Dirty and wet and clad only in loin cloths, Mbega
and Ngumbe placed the food on a water-soaked pack
ing case. In silence and ravenously the white men
pulled at tough chicken, ate cold potatoes thick with
and swallowed great quantities of hot coffee
palm-oil,
and Bordeaux wine. No thought was given to knives
or forks, nor to table etiquette. Hunger tortured; all

else was forgotten.

Smithson was the only one who spoke and what he
said was pitiful and expressed volumes :

"

I feel like a convict, homeless, friendless, and sen

tenced to penal servitude for life."
One by one the white men were satiated; one by one
they rolled over on the ground and slept.
Black men, too, slept, and the lapping of the waters
on the rafted logs was the only sound that broke the
silence of the equatorial tropics.
i
Squad, gang.
172 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Ordinarily, two hours rest are daily taken after the

midday meal, but time was precious, and in one short

hour, Ora s whistle sent both white and black men again
into the water.
The was rapidly coming in, but it was not yet
tide

strong enough to float the embedded logs. Crowbars

and cables were necessary to dislodge them. All hands
were pulling on the cable wound about an enormous log,
when the rope broke and the negroes were sent sprawling
in all They rolled on the sand, laughing
directions.

boisterously, but severe lashes from the cashmg-gos of

the white men caused them to scramble to their feet and
stand in line for further effort.

Sadler took the crowbar from Ora he put half the ;

force to shoving the log and the other half to pulling

on a new cable.
There was silence as the negroes pushed, pulled and
strained. The
hollows in their powerful, nude backs

grew deeper as muscles and ribs arose in great welts on

either side thereof. Sweat ran from their bodies as
though pails of water had been thrown over them.
Move it, boys," cried Huntingdon, in appreciation
"

of their efforts and in admiration of their wondrous

strength,
"

and it s rum and tacco a whole week for

each."

Every native heard and registered the promise, but

not one of them glanced towards the white man, so great
was the strain of pushing and pulling. But the log
never budged.

Stop a moment commanded Smithson, seeking a

" "

crowbar and giving another to Huntingdon, Rest and "

breathe deep for a few moments now come on,

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 173

Sadler and Huntingdon, crowbars under with mine!

Boys, steady on the cable
"

pull !

Silence ! Men pushed and pulled with all their might !

Slowly and reluctantly the log responded to the concen

trated effort and slightly quivered. A new hold on
the crowbars, harder pushing, more strenuous pulling,
the log moved, she was out of her bed and off down the
sand ! Part of the force was left to roll her into the
water and raft her, and the rest were already at work
on another log.
Thus the strenuous labor went on.
The tide was high and strong the rafted ; logs bumped
each other lively the sun was losing his heat, the water
;

was up to the armpits of the white men and they

were chilled through and through and were thoroughly
exhausted.

They cried for wine. There wasn t any !

Coffee,
then. There wasn t any of it, either !
Chop, then.
Not a morsel of food was left The ravenously hungry
!

whitemen had eaten it all at one sitting.

The oaths poured on the head of Ngumbe were enough
to grill the wretch,and there would have been a dead
negro had Smithson or Sadler got within arm s length
of him. But he fled to the water, only to come back
howling with fear; a blue shark dashed by, and between
the devil and the shark, the negro chose the devil. But
he had nothing to fear now from the white men ;
the
shark not only took their attention, but it was six

sundown and flood tide

o clock, !

Work had to be abandoned.

Out of two hundred logs escaped, only sixty-six were
rescued !
174 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The homeward pull was slow and torturesome. The
canoes, towing the logs,had tide and wind against them.
They showed no lights, for Ngumbe never once thought
to bring lanterns. But the white men were too far
spent for further vituperation. They were drenched
with spray, cold from the night s breeze and
thoroughly
miserable. They crouched in the bottom of the canoe.
They were too far gone even to rest or sleep. For the
first time in many moons the crewboys worked without a

curse, threat or blow from their white masters.

Twas midnight when the canoes put into Holt s
beach. The white men dragged themselves to the
bungalow they spoke no word they stopped not for
; ;

food and drink in their damp clothing, they dropped

;

like logs into their beds !

Ithad indeed been a day of African pleasantry.

The next morning three silent, pale white men met
at breakfast; eating was a pretense; dull lassitude and
fever reigned !

but with eyes wide open and brilliant, Smith-

Inert,
son lay on a steamer chair on the veranda gazing out
over the bay Sadler sought the little Oka and slept on
;

her deck; Huntingdon dressed his sore heels and longed

for ice for his throbbing head and aching throat For !

the time he recognized what luxuries in Africa are

first

the most commonplace things of civilization There !

was naught to do but to endure, and, like a true soldier,

he endured in silence !
 CHAPTER XI
SUNUP Saturday the Ville de Maranhao loomed large
on the southern horizon line.

Her passengers looked like corpses returning to Eu

rope for burial They were outstretched on deck chairs,
!

too miserable to do aught but glance at the few visitors

from Cape Lopez !

The ship s surgeon, the stewardess and several of the

crew were down with dysentery !

Matadi, Leopoldville and Brazzaville were reported

infernally hot, dry and dirty Rain had not fallen for
!

over a year!

Smallpox and sleeping sickness were epidemic.

Thousands of natives were dying. White men too were
passing away. One blew out his brains in the delirium
of black water fever. Another because he could not
stand the agony of the removal of a guinea worm.
Not one pleasant rumor was reported !

The white men of

Cape Lopez shrugged their
shoulders and helped Bouchard celebrate his promo
tion to the captaincy of the Ville de Maranhao and to
take leave of Cape Lopez.

Huntingdon saw a proper burst. It commenced Sat

urday night with dinner and ended Sunday midnight
with the sailing away of the French steamer.
While white men made merry within, natives went at
a savage pace on the plains.
175
176 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Bouchard was generous with rum and tobacco. The
natives yelled and shouted as loud as they could; they
pounded on all sorts of tin and enamel cooking uten

sils, and, amidst general pandemonium and drunkenness,

the disgusting contortions called dancing began.
The scene was brilliant with blazing fires.
Two lines of dancers were formed, the men on one
side, the women on the other.
At either end were
drummers, beating furiously with
bare palms upon enormous tam-tams.

Singing, yelling, crying, and generally letting off

steam, up and down between the lines, men and women

danced, never together and one after the other.
About the loins of the women were bands of cloth
pulled so tight that the abdomen was sharply defined
and its contortions emphasized.
The dance was anything but graceful : feet never
left the ground, but were scraped back and forth, and
the abdomen was exercised violently.
Men, women and children had exactty the same swing,
the same rhythm, the same shuffling of feet, the same

wriggling of the body.

Wilder and wilder beat the drummers !
They were
now Faster and faster gyrated
astride the tam-tams.
the natives Losing
! control of themselves, they reeled,
and fell exhausted. One by one they arose and went
at it more recklessly !

When pleasures paled within, white men joined the

orgy without. Greater was the uproar. More sug
gestive the dancing, encouraged by the plaudits and
suggestions of the white men.
The abandon was savage, wild !
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 177

Rum and mimbo l

seemed endless. Itwas gulped down
continuously. Huge goblets of it were drained at a
draught. Throats seemed aluminum, so little effect
had the fiery liquids upon them. At
length outraged
nature rebelled and daylight found white and black ex
hausted. Close together they lay in drunken stupor.
With splitting heads, and nerves all wrong, the white
men awoke one by one, and, kicking women out of their
way, they sought the shade of their respective bunga
lows, where they lay about unshorn, scantily clothed
and thoroughly wretched. They called for drink, and
more drink.
Stupefied, they slept till
nightfall.
Again they gathered at Bouchard s, but little pre
tense was made of taking food, and champagne was
drunk exclusively. Every man insisted upon opening
wine to bid the good Bouchard bon voyage.
Bouchard was doing his best to sober up to take
command of his ship. At first, he objected to his guests
ordering wine from their own factories, but men s tem
pers were such that to give in to their wishes was the
only way to avoid a general riot.
On the plains the natives were again going their
savage pace. The din and racket were again enough
to split the aching heads of white men, but the latter
were too far in liquor to comprehend anything save to
keep going. Moore sang a suggestive song which was
boisterously applauded and followed by others.
was midnight. Bouchard s departure was at hand.
It
Bon voyage, bonne sante, and bonne chance were
spoken and drunk to repeatedly, then, with linked arms
i Native whisky.
178 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and singing La Machitte, the march to the water began.
But the heavy sandy beach was zigzaggy, uncertain the ;

water seemed far, very far away and the route to it a

high mountain with no top all effort was needed for
;

walking and the song ceased. Then Bouchard boasted

of what he was going to do as commander of the VUle
de Mara/rihao.
The deposed captain took offense and demanded to
know why he should be so insulted by one he considered
his plus cher ami.

A duel hovered in the air, when the Douane broke

forth:
We
are sauvage, sauvage, worse than the blacks to
"

end up a delightful revelry like snarling beasts !

"

Men fell on each other s necks. Nobody remembered

to have done any snarling, everybody was the best of
friends and it was an irreparable loss because the good

Bouchard, a camarade and friend and jolly good- fellow,

must take command of a ship and set out for civiliza
tion How triste, how miserable everybody would be
!

without him !

Everybody sniffed, then everybody cried. It were

as though mourners were taking leave of a corpse.
Finally the surf boat was reached and men tumbled
into it. Some tumbled into the water too, and were
fished out by the ship s crew, who were sober, despite
the fact that they had sat in attendance upon their new
commander from eight until midnight !

The boat had put out, when a great shout came over
the sand.

Wildman, the Swiss, had been left behind. Up and

down the beach he ran, shouting for the boat to return.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 179

Then, as she continued her way, he offered his whole

fortune, the trade goods in his shop, everything he pos
sessed for a pirogue 1 to take him off to the French
steamer.
But not a native canoe was visible, nor was a sober

paddler to be found.

Poor little Pettier! The burst was his cachet. He

never woke up. They found him under the fierce morn
ing sun dead !

At sundown, without prayer or psalm, they shoveled

him into the sand in the little graveyard on the beach.
His coffin was an empty gun case. O erhead great,
gaunt cocatiers sighed mournfully and upon the sands
the waters of the Bay of Mandji sobbed an eternal re

quiem over the tenderfoot who was blasted e er he had a

chance to look about. Hell s
Playground claimed him
early !

White men were saddened, but not for long. Men

do not dwell much in their thoughts out there. More
absinthe and brandy were stowed within to keep
thoughts down.
Moore came up to Holt s in an ugly mood.
He accused Huntingdon of being too stuck up to take

part in their good times. He swore that he saw Hunt

ingdon sneak off when a black woman tried to catch him
about the neck. Huntingdon had insulted Bouchard,
the Douane, the Commandant, the whole French govern
ment.
"

If you re too damn fine to do as the rest of us white

1 Canoe.
180 HELL S PLAYGROUND
gentlemen do, why we ll let you alone," he raged. "

We
ain t hankering after society that ain t hankering after
us. You ll be glad to have us take you back, after
you ve tasted a bit of Africa s cursed monotony."
"

Speak for yourself," defended Sadler, the rage

of a bull in his voice and resentment in his attitude.
Since when have you become such good friends with
"

the Pomme-de-terre-frits. You re always blubbering

about your hatred of them, and, if you had your way,
you d blow every one of em to hell. Suppose you go
and do it."

"

When Icome back again, you ll know it you and

your of a Great White King t
"
 CHAPTER XII

SMITHSON S departure for N djole was fixed for the

following Saturday night. He was to leave on the Av-

ant-Garde.
A whole week was given to conscientious work.
Sadler and Smithson explained things to Hunting
don with patience and exactness.
Itula was to remain. He was an excellent shopboy,
but a thief. Huntingdon was to keep an eye on him,
but in secret. Open suspicion would cause him to make
a great haul; he would run off and Huntingdon s loss
would be great.
Mbega declared to Srnithson that Huntingdon was a

proper master. That meant the bushboy would stand

by Huntingdon as much as a native is
capable of fidelity
towards a white man. Smithson encouraged Mbega and
advised him that Huntingdon would reward him greatly
for faithful service. To Huntingdon Smithson said:
Mbega crude, but you d better keep him. A black
"

friend counts out here, when white men forget the mean

ing of the word. Nkombi Kakhi, and Ogula, the shoot-

man, will stand by you also. You ve got them for keeps.
You ve lost no time getting vassals. Hang on to them.
And further safeguard yourself by taking a wife.
There s
something in the air, in the sun s heat, in the
general precipitation of nature that engenders unholy
desires in the holiest of men. Don t try to fight them
181
182 HELL S PLAYGROUND
you ll
only lose out. Again, the natives can t imagine
any man s living to himself. They think you re queer
ll

bewitched, and they won t come near you. Then

your cake ll be dough and you might as well go back
to civilization for your plans ll come to naught here."
"

Is it as bad as that, old man ? "

"

Indeed, it is. Take a daughter of Chief Ragundo.

It secure you his friendship and influence.
ll He wields

great power among various tribes and he s the most

powerful chief in this section of the country ; also, he s

on good terms with the French. He settles many dis

putes too knotty for civilized jurisprudence."

Huntingdon was further advised to keep up the pre
tense of being a Great White King. It was his biggest
asset. He could continue to dispense the largess of a
king with gifts insignificant to him, but superb to sav
age simplicity.
He was told some of the tales about him spread
throughout the bush by Nkombi Kakhi, and Ogula, the
shootman.
He had killed a vulture a mile in the air!
He stopped a wounded, on-rushing, mad bull simply

by the power of his blue eyes ; the bull fell prostrate

and, although he kicked the white man again and again,

he could neither bruise nor harm him 1

He had shot a python in the neck and caused the bul

let to curve in such a manner as not to wound a tiny
gazelle the serpent was in the act of swallowing! The
gazelle was restored whole and followed the white man
home !

Huntingdon laughed heartily at the garbled versions

of facts.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 183

"

Don t laugh, old man, at the superstitions of the

savages nor at their tales," advised Smithson. Re "

spect native customs, and you ll not be sorry. The

savages are fond of display and long on caste. Call a
free native a nigger and it s worth your life. That
term of opprobrium applied only to slaves."
is

I thought the French had freed all the slaves."

"

By no means ; slavery s still the open sore of Africa

"

and it won t be healed in our time nor in the time of our

great grandchildren, if ever. The natives still buy and
sell slaves among themselves, and all captives in tribal
wars are made slaves ; however, if any slave goes to a
white man and demands his freedom, he s free in the
French legal sense, but the natives still consider him a
slave, and in his own soul the man still feels himself a

slave."

then to introduce new forms, customs

"

It s difficult

and laws among the natives ? "

Very, and that s why civilization has made such little

"

headway here. Traders were admitted where mission

aries and government men were either driven out or
eaten, hence Moore was right the other day when he told
you that trade has done more to civilize this country
than France has ever done, and that trade was British
trade. As to native customs, the natives believe implic

itly in their sorcerers or witch doctors and no amount

of civilization or religion can change them."
Is there any native religion at all?
" "

Yes, that of superstitious fear.

"

The natives have

no God as we have, nor do they live rightly because of
any punishment that might come to them from His
anger, but they do pay dashes, as they call their
184 HELL S PLAYGROUND
offerings of palm-nuts and other food, to a bad spirit
so that he will not bewitch them. In other words, they
take no note of good, but they do bribe something which
they know to be evil to keep away from them and not
harm them. Ju-ju s a religion difficult to explain and
to understand; you ve got to live with these people and
imbibe things gradually. You can be on the safe side
by never deriding their beliefs no matter how ridiculous
they may respect kings and chiefs ; do not
seem to you ;

laugh at their tatterdemalion display ; keep on as you

have begun, for you ve unconsciously begun right.
The many ways, must
natives, children as they are in
have some superior being to kotow to, and they ve taken
to you naturally. Your battle with them is won ; you ll
get the trade you can handle and, if you ll take my
all

advice, you ll stick strictly to business for the three years

you have allowed yourself, then you ll go back home,
marry your sweetheart and for God s sake stay there."
Thanks, old man," Huntingdon began, but Smith-
"

son cut in:

"

Now I m going to tell you how to make money

quick; that re here for, isn t it?
"

s all you
"

That s all, old chap,"

and Huntingdon, interested,
listened attentively.
"

This trade-palaver on between the French and the

natives can be worked to your profit."
"

Indeed? I thought all along it would operate

against me."

"

Au contraire. Listen. Wherever the Berlin Act

has not designated a district open to trade, competitive
trade has been driven out, as you have already been told."
"

Yes."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 185

Well, in those districts, as you have also been told

"

and I want you to mark this well and remember it, for
it s the key to your success the French monopolists
have done away with standard goods of a standard mar
ket value and substituted inferior goods at inferior
prices. A native is slow, very slow to accept something
new in lieu of something old to which he has become
accustomed, especially if the substitute is inferior in
value and higher in price. Now it sa fact that the thin,
narrow French prints in no way compare with the heavy,
wide prints of the British and the Germans in universal
use when open trade existed. Then take tobacco the

greatest legal tender here, for every native from a young

child, male and female, to ancient men and women, smoke
continuously, the natives were accustomed ever since
the white trade first came among them to the broad,

Virginia leaf at a standard fixed price, the kilo. Show

a bushman, who has never seen a white man, a head of
Virginia leaf tobacco, and he immediately recognizes its
trade value, as you recognize that of a bob or a quid.
Now in lieu of that tobacco, the French have substi
tuted an inferior, unknown brand at a higher price.
The natives won t have it, for two reasons: primo, be
cause it doesn t smoke as well ; secundo, its cost is

greater, while native products offered in exchange are

lessened in value and very often condemned and appro

priated by the French."

"

Bad business."
"

The worst in the world, because the natives refuse

to trade with the French, and concessionaires who did
a profitable business in open trade days, are now bank
rupt. The concessionaires blame the government for
186 HELL S PLAYGROUND
having unloaded worn-out territory, and the government
blames the concessionaires for their lack of business
policy in doing away with standard goods of a standard
trade value. The natives demand redress from the gov
ernment, but what can it do? It has let out concession

aire rights for an annual stipend everything therein, ;

thereon, or thereunder every hector named in the trade-

grant belongs to the concessionaire; let the native cut
a log of ebony, secure a point of ivory, or kill a fish-

eagle, it belongs to the concessionaire, granted to it

by
the government without the consent of, or payment to,
the native owner."

thought one of the first laws of civilization the

"

I is

right to enjoy in peace one s own possessions?

"

"

Sobut the natives, who have been in possession

it is,

of these lands from time out of mind and who still con
tinue in possession of them can t even call a plantain
their own, if the concessionaire demands it and confis
cates a positive truth that free natives are cast
it. It s

into prison for theft for gathering the products of

their own lands
"

" "

Extraordinary !

Robbery, oppression and slavery

"

It s natural for !

a nation to fight for commercial supremacy, but where

that fight narrows into a crushing, paralyzing trade

monopoly, it becomes robber economy, fatal in the end

to the robber."

"

True."

Throughout the entire colony commerce is dead

due, it is said, to the depreciation in the price of rubber.

Why, the French haven t even the courage of their own

sins and now that they ve reaped the reward of their
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 187

crimes, they continue to place the blame everywhere else

than where it belongs. Instead of propitiating the na
them by giving thcrn the choice of a wide
tives, flattering

range of trade goods as one would surfeit a child with

playthings, the French concessionaires first restricted the
choice of playthings, then permitted no choice at all
and attempted to force on the natives something they
don t want. That
not business, especially here, in
s

this hell hole, where it is the native alone who counts.

He existed ages before he knew there was such a crea
ture as a white man and he can go on existing without
him, but without the cooperation and friendship of
the native, the white man might just as well pack up and
get out."

Can t the white man

"

ever become acclimated enough

to work the country? "

"

Never. He can oversee, yes, but the labor must

be done by the natives. They alone can withstand the
fierce sun and battle with the diseases endemic and epi

demic to their lands. White men have been out here,

some of them for upwards of thirty years, but what are
they? Physical wrecks, from their affairs with native
women "

"

Why don
white traders bring their wives out?
t
"

"

Climate. No white woman save a missionary ever

permits her children to be born here or remains for any
length of time. Huntingdon, you can t understand how
really wretched this climate is until you ve lived

through a succession of seasons then it s not so bad ;

here on the coast as it is in the interior. In the dry

season Cape Lopez is the health resort of this part of
Africa."
188 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

Won t civilization ever come here as it has in East

and South Africa? "

Never, else it would have been here long ago.

"

You
can t overcome natural deleterious conditions you can t ;

stop eight months rain, nor water four months drouth ;

it s impossible to purify jungles, to kill their poisonous

insects and vapors, impossible !
"

"

But the wealth s here? "

"

Plenty of it and therefore the French are silly asses

to stop up the avenues from whence it must flow to
them, and that s
through the natives. I ve been all

through the bush, I know the feelings of the natives.

They call it thief-palaver, and it is thief -palaver. Noth

ing for nothing is the dictum of all righteousness. How
dare any one people defy all right? The French give
worse than nothing for something; they ve robbed the
native and they continue to rob him. He is left noth
ing, yet out of nothing he must pay a yearly tax to
the government. I told you all this the other day, but I

repeat it, for it has a direct bearing on your success.

To get something from nothing is an utter impossibility.
Something s
got to give way. It does. The natives are
crushed to the earth and they never rise again. France
in her greed has killed the goose that laid the golden

egg. Now, France might find other geese, but who can
resuscitate dead geese? "

"

Bad policy, very bad policy !

"

ejaculated Hunting
don.
"

How would a civilized man act were an unbidden

stranger to enter his home, take possession of it, and

demand the wherewith to keep him there? "

"

The owner would be justified in ousting the intru-

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 189

der and he would be upheld by every court in the world."

Just so. Yet a whole army intrudes itself upon the
"

French Congo and compels the native to support it

that might continue to oppress him. Native troops

it

go into a town and take food from the very mouths of

babies. You ve no conception of the cruel tyranny
one black man in the name of the law exerts over another !

You ve got to see it to appreciate it. Claim jumping is

resented in every part of the civilized Avorld, and I don t
see why an exception should be made in an uncivilized

country especially where the natives continue to sit on

the claim. If possession is nine-tenths of the law, shall

only one-tenth prevail? Shall there be one law for the

White and another for the Black? Now, you and I,
Huntingdon, belong to the greatest colonizing country
in the world the building up of our colonies has been by
;

no means free from stain, yet, I claim, that equity should

know no color nor creed, and I also know that equity is

not the rock upon which colonies are built. It grab is

and continue to grab as long as there is anything to grab,

then, when nothing more can be wrung out of the grab,
it is thrown aside, and the ears of colonizers are deadened
to the wail of those passed up by the clinking of gold
to be had in other grabs not yet preempted by the white
man."

"

Have the natives no redress from the

wrong per
petrated on them by the concessionaires?
"

As I started out to say, Huntingdon, the natives

"

have demanded an adjustment of their wrongs, but

what can the government do? They ve taken and con
tinue to take an annual stipend from the concession
aires for the exclusive exploitation of certain territories ;
190 HELL S PLAYGROUND
if the natives are permitted ownership of that which is

legally their own, the French government is liable to

breach of contract with the traders, hence monetary

damages."
"

But wherein lies the greatest wrong? demanded "

Huntingdon.
"

Isn t it where the majority are op

pressed to the gain of a few?

"

"

Certainly but the French government tempo

it is,

rizes and temporizes and in the meanwhile, native towns

;

have fallen into decay, young men and young women

have run away from them to open trade districts where
work is to be had; old men and old women, once a
power unto themselves, and leaders of powerful tribes,
sitdisconsolate and wretched, contrasting the prosperity
and happiness of open trade days with the restricted
trade conditions of to-day. No comparison so keen as
that of a savage where only two things are to be com

pared. They contrast the poverty of to-day with the

prosperity of open-trade days. From the government
the natives hide, because they fear imprisonment for

nonpayment of taxes which they cannot possibly raise;

they refuse to work their lands and have their products
condemned and themselves arrested for theft ; conces
sionaires can t get laborers and all is chaos. Now here s

where you come in. Find out what concessions are

about to go under; have your solicitor go to their home
offices in France or in
Belgium, buy them out, operate
them ostensibly by French companies, and put in a few
men that you know to be trustworthy. Once in posses
sion, the hint can be dropped to the natives that you re
the real owner, and you ll have applications for work
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 191

and more products willingly brought to you than you

can conceive of, or could get in any other way."
Thanks, old man, it s awfully kind of you," said
"

act on your hint."

"

Huntingdon, gratefully. I ll

"

I presume you can command all the capital you

need? "

"

Yes. If I make good the governor will see to that.

We re to have a corporation of which I m to be the

head."

"

Good ! Get busy about those concessions as soon

as you can. There s no time like the present, things
move slowly out here, Europe s far away for correspon
dence, and life s so uncertain."
 CHAPTER XIII

As Huntingdon and Smithson chatted confidentially,

whistling carelessly, Sadler swaggered aft to the galley.

In the doorway sat Makaya digging a jigger from his
foot with a paring knife.
"

Then you mek chop for them knife without wash

ing him?
"

"

I fit for wish um, Mon Dleu I fit

"

You re a liar ! But if I ketch you at it

"

and
Sadler s fists came together. "

Say, Makaya, you savvy

them fine, fine drinking cups of King Huntingdon?
"

"

I savvy."
"

Fetch one."

Makaya brought forth a cup of rhinoceros horn.

"

Now fetch rimgo."

l

Their voices vibrated through sleepy space. Curi

ous, Mbega, Ogula and Ngumbe came from their rest

ing places, and gathered about Sadler and the Loango.

Put them ningo for cup, Makaya
"

!
"

The Loango obeyed.

Look them cup for
"

outside, you wild-eyed bushpigs.

Him ketch all same water no live?
"

Four pairs of distended eyes minutely examined the

outside of the cup, wondering what the palaver was
about.
i Water.
192
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 193

"

Throw them water out. Look outside them cup

again. He
ketch all same, eh? "

Again a lengthy and minute examination in tense si

lence. Then, growing superstitious, the natives backed

away.
"

Them cup all same water live, water no live? "

de
manded the little skipper.
No one answered. The restless eyes of the savages
betrayed their desire to run away.
"Answer!" and Sadler kicked
Ngumbe, viciously.
Them cup all same water live, no Jive," admitted
"

Ngumbe, weakly.
Here you, Makaya, now put
"

the rest of them water

in them cup !
"

The Loango reluctantly obeyed. His hand was nerv

ous fear was alive within him, and in the others too.
;

Put them cup for ground

"

Sadler commanded. !
"

The Loango was glad to be rid of it. He backed

away, followed by the others.
Here, you black-skinned vermin, get round close,
"

in a circle! and Sadler punched the savages, one after

"

the other, forcing them to form a circle about him.

Slowly he gazed at each, and, when abject fear of

what was to follow held the savages motionless, suddenly,
Sadler pulled from his pocket a twig bearing green
leaves, and dangled it in their faces !

They drew sharply away affrighted !

Farther and farther apart they edged, then Mbega

started to run the others essayed to follow, but Sadler
;

bellowed :

"

Stay here, you brutes, or I ll make every damn

nigger drink the bally stuff." The threat caused the
194 HELL S PLAYGROUND

savages to reluctantly gather again about their tormen

tor, and he yelled Makaya, you wretch, name them
"

"

thing !

"

Mboundu, mboundu," whispered the Loango, in a

voice hollow with fear, his thin form vibrating nervously.
What he be for? demanded Sadler, relentlessly.
" "

"

Him be poison, proper poison," came from the ter

rified Loango.
Oh, ho
"

rollicked Sadler. You know your devil

!
" "

ish medceen then the truck you feed to suspected

1
criminals. Guilty they live for ground, not guilty

they don I speak true for mouth?

"

t live for ground.

and again Sadler shoved the twig in the faces of the

savages.
"

True !
"

muttered Ogula, the giant, childish with

Mbega clung to the earth in abject terror;
fear, while
and Ngumbe held his breath. For mboundu, the great
trial poison, is universally dreaded !

Dramatically Sadler dropped on his haunches, and

bent over the cup.
"

Gimme a knife," he yelled.

Not a savage moved. Mbega still kept his face close
to the earth.

Mbega, you bush knife ?

" "

pig, gimme your

"

Never got um, Master, never got urn," the wretch

whined.
"

Get up, then, or I ll make you chew off this jolly

mboundu with your teeth."
Mbega quickly arose, and Ogula took a great hunting
knife from his cloth and eagerly extended it.
"You re
waking up, are you?" And Sadler spat
iDie.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 195

in the giant Ah, it s a good thing there s some

"

s face.
devil that makes your cowardly hearts submit to your
masters. Now, come closer
"

The savages were again reluctant to obey, and, slash

ing the air viciously with the knife, Sadler threatened :

t be all day or I ll carve you into bits, one

"

I>on

after the other."

Again the savages slowly closed around Sadler.

Although inwardly laughing, the little skipper s lips
were set in a straight line and his blue eyes were hard
as steel.

Dramatically he scraped the bark of the strychnine

into the cup, the eyes of the savages watching his every
move ; over and about the cup he danced a sailor s

hornpipe, emitting piercing gallery-god whistles which

shrieked through space to the dense bush beyond from
whence they were thrown back in mocking echoes ; then,
suddenly, he took up the cup in one hand and with the
other he briskly stirred the mixture, holding it close to
the faces of the savages and crying in terror-sustaining
tones :

Look them cup for outside, look um, you fiends

"

from hell, look um !

"

The eyes of the savages almost started from their

heads as the cup slowly discolored!
There was no restraining the savages they were noAV ;

off on the wings of superstitious fear, and little Sadler

yelled :

"

Hit the breeze lively, you fiends from hell, and

never forget that witch doctor for King Hunting
don tell him when black man make medceen for him
"

belly !
196 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Moore didn t come near
week, although Smithson s
all

departure for N
djole was known all over Cape Lopez.
On Saturday night Huntingdon and Sadler went
aboard the Avant-Garde to see their comrade off.
Moore was drinking with her captain, LeBlanc, the

Frenchman, and Wildman, the Swiss.

He took no notice of his compatriots. Nor they of
him. They might have been utter strangers to each
other.
The night was divine.
The moon was big, round and low, shedding a silvery
radiance over all things, and tingeing them with romance.
A gentle, cooling breeze tempered the heat.
Africa throbbed with entrancing witchery.
In silence the white men walked the little deck.
Suddenly, Smithson stopped and sighed:
Ah, why can t Africa always be like this, livable and
"

beautiful?
"

There was such a world of tragedy in his voice, that,

for the first time in his life, the irrepressible Sadler

found no voice for raillery and mockery. Hunting
don, too, was silent. The night breeze alone answered
Smithson and what said cannot be interpreted by men.
it

Smithson gazed steadily out over the bay, which, under

the moon, was an expanse of shimmering silver, but from
the land, distinct and clear, came the mournful swish
of the gaunt cocotlers.
"

Dead men s bones, that s what they rattle like fit

ting sentinels for that hole in the ground on those

forsaken sands and the moan of the sea God, will

only eternal sleep shut them out will

"

Huntingdon and Sadler stole away.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 197

"

He s
got the jim-jams bad," whispered little Sadler.
"

His complexion s the color of the Ogowe."

I guess he commiserated
"

s in for it, poor old chap,"

Huntingdon.
"

I say, Huntingdon, you ve got what is it the

Frenchies say you ve got aplomb. Use it now on
him," and Sadler jerked his head towards Smithson.

"

What would you suggest?

"

"

Get on shore without making circuses of ourselves.

I feel like bolting without even saying good-by."
"

That would never do."

savvy that but I ain got no words to fit.

"

I t If
it was to swear, I d be all right, but palaver like this
ah, you know how to handle it
gwan the Pomme-

de-terre-fritters say that you re never left when it comes

to doing the proper thing at the proper time. Use your

savery fairey as Moore calls it."

Huntingdon Sadler around the deck, and, apled

proaching Smithson from the other side, he yawned,

wearily, and said
drawling tones: in tired,

Yes, indeed, Sadler, we ve been hitting it up pretty

"

lively since I landed on the beach. I m just about as

far gone as I can go without dropping all together. I

hope this breeze keeps up still I m tired enough to

sleep even in Hades."

"

Yes, and I m tired too," agreed Smithson, but "

whether I ll
sleep or not is another matter. I dread
the trip ahead of me. Ten days or two weeks of monot
onous misery. Traveling at a snail s pace during the
day. At night tying up at a wood pile or a mangrove
tree, food for mosquitoes and wet heat. Ah, well tis ;

Hell s Playground. Good-by, my friends. Good health

 198 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and good luck. They sound a farce out here but it s

the conventional good-by of the coast and we ve got

to be conventional even in farce."
He laughed in a tired, pathetic manner.
An revoir, old chap," cried Huntingdon, warmly
"

wringing Smithson s hand and forcing life into his tones.

Until we meet
"

again. Take care of yourself.

Good luck, good health, and many, many thanks."
"

Until next time, old man," was all Sadler said

all he could say.
The Avant-Garde was to leave on the early morning
tide, so as to make the flats at Yombe Point, one of the
many mouths of the Ogowe.
From the beach Huntingdon and Sadler again called

good-by and waved their hats in farewell.

Smiths on leaned over the rail and smiled at them.

The moonlight fell full upon him. He was all in white !

He drooped, pathetically.
The deck was deserted. He was alone, but from the
salle a manger came Moore s boisterous cry :

"

Vive La France, Pomme-de-terre-frit! "

followed by
the cockney song:

Come where the booze is cheaper,

Come where the mugs hold more,
Come where the boss is a bit of a joss,
Let s go to the pub next door!
 CHAPTER XIV
IN four weeks, Ngumbe arrived in a canoe.
Master Smithson, he live for ground," he said
"

lightly, though delivering news of a good time.

as

King Huntingdon, you fit for tek me as houseboy. I

"

be proper boy for big White King. Bushboy never

pas me for white man palaver."
Neither by voice nor gesture did Huntingdon betray
the shock to his nerves by the abrupt news of Smith-
son s death.
take you, he said quietly.
"

Fall
"

I fit
Ngumbe,"
into your old place \
"

Hello there, Face, what the palaver?

" "

Monkey s

rollicked Sadler.
"

Smithson s dead Sadler, he s gone,"

said

Huntingdon.
The laughter died from Sadler s eyes.
"

What it be? he asked gently, of Ngumbe.

"

Fire ketch master s skin. All blankets from fac

"

tory, no get warm. Skin he burn, blood he cold. Him

bushi&oman mek medceen. No good. Sweat never
ketch. Him ask for brandy. Master put litre for
belly. He sleep, one day, two day, three day worms
he ketch "

"

Enough, Ngumbe commanded Huntingdon. !

"

"

Report for duty in the morning!

"

Silence fell between the two white men.

199
200 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

I think Smithson must have felt it too that it

was good-by," said Sadler after a time.

"

Moore, the
"

shrimp !

Huntingdon remained silent.

HOAV awful to die alone, in the bush, away from loved
ones from Marj orie !

Sadler literally threw Huntingdon out of the factory.

Go hunt, do as you jolly well please, but get out
"

of my sight. I ll not be here much longer. The Oka ll

be soon in trim. Then you ll have to do time. But

not now. Sneak !
"

A
deeper feeling for the little skipper gripped Hunt
ingdon. He understood!
Moore swaggered in to gossip of Smithson s death.
But he had scarce passed the threshold of the factory,
before Sadler raged:
"

Get your deceitful mug out o here, or I ll crack

it for you."

Moore wanted to argue, but Sadler disappeared in the

storeroom.

Huntingdon sought the Douane.

"

Monsieur le Douane, Mr. Smithson, my compatriot,

is dead," he announced without preamble.
" "

Sacre cceur!
In the Creole s handclasp lay a world of sympathy.
Then he spread out his jeweled fingers, shrugged his
shoulders and consoled:
"

He has left ennui, la tristesse, this country barbare.

He is to be envied !
"

Silence fell language of the strong si

; silence, the ;

lence, the comforter of the suffering !

Huntingdon dropped on a divan. He gazed out o er

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 201

the bay. He recalled Smithson in the moonlight; his

prescience of death !

Twas opera bouffe no more ! Hell s Playground was

a reality !

The Douane picked up de Maupassant s La Vie Er-

rante, and
French, with a soft, pleasing, soothing
in

accent, he read:

The frail and triangular stems of papyrus, eight or

"

nine feet high, bore at the top round clusters of green

threads, soft and flexible, like human hair. They re

sembled heads that had become plants, "which might have

been thrown into the sacred stream by one of the pagan
deities who lived there in days gone by. Is it not strange

that this wonderful plant, which brought to our minds

the thoughts of the dead, which was the guardian of
the human genius, should have on its ancient body an
enormous mane of thick and flowing hair, such as poets
Is that not an exquisite thought, mon ami?
"

effect?

Huntingdon s gray mood dissolved before the em

broidery of de Maupassant and the subtle magnetism of
the creole.
Tis sublime, mon cher ami," he said.
"

I, too,
"

feel that plants have souls. That they were once beau
tiful women beloved of men. As plants, flowers, they
come to us, bringing fragrance and beauty and recollec
tions to soothe us in moments of depression, of sor
row."

"

True, true ! When I press a flower to my lips, mon

cher Huntingdon, in its calyx I see the eyes of her I
love. Ah, woman s lips ! Their nectar is Lethe for tor
tured souls. Life without woman is death."
202 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The Douane broke another silence.
Listen again, mon cher ami, what my poet says of
"

flamingoes Some were swimming and others stood

:

about on their long legs. They looked like floating red

and white spots, or enormous flowers, glowing on a
slender red stalk. Hundreds were grouped together,
either in the water or on the banks. One would think it
were a hedge of carmined lilies from which emerged, as
from a corolla, the blood-stained heads of birds on a
long, curved neck. It was like the flight of a garden,

with flower baskets, rising towards the sky, one after

"

the other.
Sainte Vierge!
"

exclaimed Huntingdon, what a " "

metaphor No one save a great soul, an exquisite, could

!

give birth to it."

"

You re right, cher Huntingdon. Such thoughts

never could occur to ordinary minds. You ve seen a
flock of flamingoes in flight?
"

"

The
pleasure is yet to be mine, mon cher Douane
"

It shall be my most exquisite happiness to show you

"

that Guy de Maupassant s poesy is taken from life."

"

I thank you a million times, mon cher camarade."

The creole shrugged his shoulders.

After another silence, he remarked:
"

You ve been in Turkey, without doubt."

"

Yes."

"

You ve read Monsieur Loti s Des Enchantees?

"

"

Yes."

"

You like it?

"

"

I cannot say that I do. It seems to me a boast of

the author s amourettes. To boast of a woman any
sort of a woman is unpardonable."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 203

Certainement; tis a crime enorme to boast of the

"

affaires de cceur. But the tale is too sombre. Such

life for a woman ! Tis death. My Creole blood is al

ways jealous of the woman I love, but I do not believe

in shutting her up. I do not relish pale cheeks, dulled

eyes and listlessness. I like the ripe, warm, luscious

fruit What do you think of your Monsieur Hich-
ens story The Garden of Allah? "

The Douane pronounced it Al-lah, after the manner

of the East.
Tis a tapestry of delight, a tracery of ideal love,"
"

enthused Huntingdon, love glowing within him to the

exclusion of every other emotion.
"

Would you not

love a honeymoon like that, Monsieur Douane?
"

le
"

To have been all alone with the woman I love? Yes.

To make her feel that she was wholly dependent upon
me, that I was tout-a-fait dependent upon her? Yes.
To live only in and for each other? Yes. But she
would have wounded me unto death had she not told me
of the unborn enfant."
"

What you don t know cannot cause you suffering,"

reasoned Huntingdon, a smile on his lips. Twas the

Douane who was almost in tears now.
"

Ah, but my soul would tell me that the woman I

love was concealing something from me."

Androvski never would have returned to the mon

"

astery had Domini told him of the child."

"

Mon Dieu, how could he leave une grande passion

comme ca and go into the unsympathetic monastery with
its lean, unemotional priests? How could he be so in
sensible? That is no way to reward an amour parfait.
How could he forget les embraces si
passionnees?
204 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

He did not forget them. No man could ever for

get such ardor."

"

Then why did he leave them? "

demanded the Douane

as though he were catechising a and that cul
culprit,
prit were Androvski himself.
"

Because of his love for Domini."

The Douane shrugged his shoulders.

"

You English are drole. You leave a woman be

cause you love her. We leave her because love is

dead."

Douane?
"
"

Monsieur le

Oui, Monsieur
"
"

Huntingdon?
"

When Domini discovered Androvski was a monk

you recall how great was her shock? "

" "

Oui, pauvre femme!

"

Alors. Think you it was easy for her to come to

the decision that he must go back to that unsympa
thetic monastery, with its lean, unemotional priests ?
"

Ah, she did not need to think about it at all

"

She !

should have held him tighter, she should have kissed him
all the more, she should have told him of the flower of
love to bloom for them !
Non, non, I amour est la vie!

I do not like the Domini. I do not like the Androvski

save in the desert, in the night, in the silence. Ah,
Monsieur Huntingdon, you English do not know how
to love you do not know how."
Huntingdon s heart beats were quicker, his blood
flowed more lively. Once again in England would he
not know how to love? He who was starving for af
fection, for the love and companionship of a woman !

It was the Douane who broke another long silence.

Monsieur Huntingdon?
" "
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 205

Oui, Monsieur
"

le Douane."
"

I have the honor to announce a very great surprise

and pleasure to you."

Oui?
" "

Huntingdon s interest and attention showed in his

manner and his eyes.
"

I am going to the chasse with you."

"

Tis indeed a surprise and a delight, mon ami," cried

Huntingdon, joyously.
"

If you will lend me les cartouches."

"

All you wish and rifles too. You know I ve a whole

armory with me thanks to the courtesy of your gov
ernment. When are we off? "

"

At your pleasure."
"

To-morrow? "

"

To-morrow."

The Douane summoned a sergeant. He gave rapid

command in French. At break of day he would set
out for the chase ; all must be in readiness.

A delightful day was spent and much game was

bagged. The Douane proved himself a good shot and a
general all-round sportsman.
That was the beginning of close companionship and
friendship between the Englishman and the creole. Each
continuously sought the other s society ; two well-trained
intellects met and each learned something from the other.

Their converse was of art and life ;

of philosophy and

religion; of men and women. Each considered woman

the masterpiece of creation, the highest form of divine

expression ; they regretted her absence and suffered from

loneliness, yet neither of them would have willingly
brought her there to that savage country. The
206 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Douane s wife had come because she considered it her

duty to do so, and while the Douane lived only when she
was there, yet there was ever present the fear that ill
ness or accident might forever take her from him. He
had seen her off to Europe, glad to know that she would
be at their home
Martinique, surrounded by their
in

flowers of love: two little girls, so sweet and bea^ltiful as

not to seem real.
To Sadler, Huntingdon could talk unreservedly of his
business plans, but of Marjorie, Huntingdon spoke only
to the Creole. Great were the pleasure and solace he
derived therefrom, and the languid Creole, the volup

tuary, never tired of Huntingdon s description of his

lady love, his dilations upon her charms and accom
plishments. They brought the Creole a new delight, a
sort of reflected ardor of the faith and trust and love
of his friend for the woman for whose sake he sought
exile and toil.

Huntingdon spoke of Marjorie s vow to be faithful

unto death, and his own pledge of fidelity through all
eternity.
"

Tis woman s sacred duty to be faithful," remarked

the Douane.
"

What about the man? Huntingdon demanded. "

"

He means to be shrugged the Douane, but

true."
"

when la tristesse tortures, la femme is the only relief;

la femme et I amour."

"

You don t call that love," indignantly protested the

Englishman.
"

Mon cher ami," and the Creole lightly laid his

jeweled fingers with their long polished nails upon Hunt

ingdon s arm and said kindly, love is a word applied
"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 207

to many emotions and morality is a point of view

please don t let us discuss it. Come, let s play ecarte;
we ll while away the heavy hours with the Goddess of
Chance, who is but another manifestation of bewitching
woman. and the friends gambled recklessly
Come,"

through the dragging hours of many a long, monotonous,

tropical night.
 CHAPTER XV
MEANWHILE, shortly after Smithson s death, Sadler,
in command of the little Oka, set out with cargo for the

Ogowe.
For the first time in his life, Huntingdon was thrown
upon himself, and he met the occasion.
He gave strict orders to his servants.
short, No
slackness ;no disorder. Delinquents would be dismissed
and never taken back.
Itula had charge of the f actor} 7
; Ngumbe of the
house Makaya
;
of the galley.

Ngumbe was always to wear fresh whites. They

would be furnished by his master.
The bungalow was thoroughly cleansed. Changes in
it were planned and designs were made for new furni
ture. Both were to be finished by Christmas. Besides,
drawings were made for a new bungalow, which was to
be ready next June, when Huntingdon s term of service
with Holt had expired.
Sadler recommended the Catholic fathers at Lam-
barene as expert builders, carpenters and carvers, and

Huntingdon gave them carte blanche to go ahead.

He was happy, genuinely happy.
He reveled in doing with no one to say him nay.
Five days in the week were devoted to business.
Saturday and Sunday were given to the chase, and the
evenings to the Douane.
208
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 209

The weather was ideal. It was Africa s winter.

Huntingdon gloried in it. Cape Lopez seemed the most

delightful spot on earth.
Late in August the British gunboat Dwarf put in for
her annual recruit.
Her arrival gave new zest to affairs.
Hunt followed hunt, and entertainment, entertain
ment.
Sadler was down,Moore was again welcomed.
Cape Lopez never before knew such revelry, such
hunting. No man lagged behind.
The game bagged was far beyond the quantity and
kind permitted by the government.
But what mattered that? Were not the Douane, the
Commandant and the Chef de Paste of the party?
And was not that Hunters Paradise, the Plains of
Mandji, worthy of those mighty hunts?
Huntingdon s shooting was marvelous. He drank
nothing when after big game. He never lost sight of
his danger. He owed it to Marjorie to take the best
care possible of himself. He preserved and shipped to
her and to his father game rare even in the great
museums of the world.
Though his interest was keen in the okapi, Duyker
antelopes and a giant, black pig, Huntingdon s greatest
enthusiasm was for the gorilla. His captive stood over
six feet high and so human was he in some respects that

Huntingdon was not only fascinated but frightened.

For hours he watched and studied the anthropoid his ;

ears, though inordinately small for his huge body,

were perfect as a man s ; he walked upright he used his
;

foot as a hand and enormous strength was in his long,

210 HELL S PLAYGROUND
muscular arms. With them he beat furiously upon
his stout iron cage he seemed to know that Huntingdon
;

was his jailer, and, at his approach, the ape raged furi
ously. He refused to eat and at night his cries were
;

and of a peculiar character; he seemed

especially shrill
to be appealing to his friends of the bush for release,
and time and time again they answered him. The sixth
night of his capture he escaped and there was every
evidence that outside aid had been rendered him.

Huntingdon had more faith than ever in Darwin s

theory. He felt confident that the mystery of the miss

ing link was contained in the shadowy bush about him ;

he wished he had time to pursue the matter exhaustively,

but he was there not as a student, but as a worker; he
had much to do and a limited time in which to accom
it.
plish
Huntingdon s fame as a dead sure shot had traveled
far and wide.
From his bush town came Chief Ragundo.
For months a leopard had been terrifying the people.
Traps had been set, but the wily bush cat had evaded
them, and raid after raid had been successfully made by
him. A four-year-old child had been the last victim,
and the natives were so frightened that they feared to
venture forth even in the brilliant light of day.
Chief Ragundo begged the Great White King to dis
patch the marauder.
Huntingdon s blood was up. The bush and its ways
were now pretty familiar to him. He determined the
leopard and he would have an argument.
The moon was big, the night still. Not a sound was
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 211

heard, save the crying of a gazelle imprisoned in the

trap set for the leopard.

With Ogula and Nkombi Kakhi, Huntingdon took up

his vigil.

One, two, three hours passed.

No sign of the leopard.
The natives lay asleep, they were tired.
The bush hid the sea from Huntingdon s gaze, but he
heard the gentle murmur of the water. It brought him

messages of her, the woman who constantly filled his

thoughts. While his body was in Africa and he sat on
the ground, his gun on his knee, his eyes on the moonlit

space over which the leopard must pass to reach the

gazelle, his thoughts were in England. He was with his
beloved they were on the Thames in a boat.
; He was
holding her sunshade. He was telling her how becom
ing white was to her, when bang !

A shot rang out, the natives jumped to their feet.

Huntingdon discovered himself on his stomach, his

discharged gun in his hand, while thirty yards away
lay a leopard stone dead a soft-nosed bullet in his
brain !

Huntingdon s subconscious mind made the kill.

Great was the rejoicing among the Ouroungoes, The
whole tribe adopted Huntingdon as their Mpolo Tata
Otangani; their Great White King; they vowed eternal
friendship ; they brought him many trophies of the chase.
What more fitting thing for such a mighty Nimrod?

They promised an elephant hunt in his honor.

In all the season s hunting only two elephants had
been taken by the white men, and Huntingdon was
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
anxious to learn how the savages brought down the big
pachyderms. With joy he received the announcement
of the hunt and eagerly he looked forward to it. His
guns were primed, his ammunition ready and he was
prepared to set out any time. But day after day went
by and time had tolled up a month without any sign
from the natives.
The leopard s skin, an unusually large and handsome
one, was tanned and hung in the factory where natives
flocked to see it, and more wonderful than ever and more

exaggerated were the tales they told of the Great White

King.
His eye was so powerful that he charmed any wild
beast and rendered him harmless !

He had a magic box in which were charms to cure

any disease !

There was another box out of which came the most

wonderful sounds. The natives hung about just to hear
it. Their own music is primitive, monotonous, some
thing after the solemn chant for the dead. Their sur
prise then was great at melodies of popular, fast-moving
songs. Those who understood English caught a word
here and there and strutted about like children inter

preting to less fortunate ones and adding something of

their own. According to them, the songs were of the
valorous deeds of the Great White King and of his con
quest of the whole world and the destruction of all his

enemies !

Thus Huntingdon fame grew and was noised about

s

the land. People came days journeys to look upon him

to trade in his factory, and he profited by cleaning
out old stock. The big order he sent in for new
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 213

merchandise caused great comment in the home office.

The tenderfoot was surely doing great things. His

career was watched with interest.

Huntingdon had given up all hope of the great native

elephant hunt, when to his surprise, Ogula announced
that at last all was ready and the start was to be made

proper early the next morning.

The lure of the chase was again quick within the white
man and eagerly and joyfully he set out. He was far
from a tenderfoot now ;
he was hardened and in the
best possible physical condition. He was properly
dressed without one ounce of superfluous clothing. He
wore low canvas shoes with rubber soles ; puttees of
tough, tan leather ;
a tan blouse of silk and wool ; a dark

green helmet, and though his green khakis were worse

for wear, they were serviceable and inconspicuous.
After a long, arduous march, Huntingdon was disap
pointed and disgusted to find a poor pachyderm in his
death throes, a keen knife having pierced his brain with

peculiar exactness.
Huntingdon ended the beast s agony.
Then he examined the trap. He found it very in
genuous. Between two trees was fixed a horizontal bar,
from which hung a weighted spear, kept in position by
a cord of tough bush rope held down b} a stake directed
r

horizontally towards the middle of the trap and by

another, which at a convenient angle, was interposed
between this and the end.
The elephant had struck with his feet and loosened
the contrivance. It fell violently and the knife caught
the victim in the spot where the brain unites with the

nape of the neck.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon appreciated the suddenness of the blow
and its great force. The knife in his neck, the poor
beast struggles until he dies !

Huntingdon was astounded at the size of the elephant ;

he was a full grown male and weighed at least four

tons !

The natives were delighted with the kill.

The coarse, rank flesh, stillsmoking, was cut up and

distributed among them. Portions of the trunk and the
feet were reserved for Huntingdon, while a huge lump
of meat was set apart for Chief Ragundo in whose town
the night was to be passed and the festivities held.

Huntingdon resolved to also reward Ragundo with his

share of the spoil. Baked elephant feet didn t appeal
to him, and the trunk is tough.

Huntingdon turned away from the hacking of the

still warm flesh. He imagined the corpse to be a human
being, and the natives cannibals quarreling over it!
He also pondered on the laziness of the negroes. In
direct contrast to the Malay and other Eastern peoples,
the equatorial savages do not domesticate the elephant,
or any other animal. Huntingdon was saddened for the
moment. What if, after all, the natives should fail him
as laborers? But, again, he put thoughts of failure
from him ; he relaxed and his thoughts were of Marjorie,
his beloved. He was content with his progress so far
and he longed for the year to be up when he could go
it alone.

Suddenly, and, unceremoniously, Huntingdon was

hauled from his position by Ogula, the shootman.
Death he live. Medceen for him bite, no live."
"

Not a foot from where Huntingdon had sat was a

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 215

cobra, the most deadly snake in all Africa! Slowly his

body became erect ; the skin on either side of his head
was dilated until it stood out like a hood, and making a
noise like an angry cat, the serpent spat forth venom
with such force that it carried for at least eight feet !

Ogula pointed to his own eyes and a great cut on his

leg and said:
"

If them spit ketch man here and here, he live for

ground one time."

l
was the only word uttered by the white
"

Awaka,"

man for the great service rendered him. It was spoken

lazily, almost indifferently. Then he gave command to

begin the march towards Chief Ragundo s town.

They had advanced some distance in silence, when

suddenly Ogula whispered:
2
Master, I look for ear all same like elephant hunt
"

him chop."
listened, and he heard, in the bush be
Huntingdon
yond, a tugging as though a tree were being deftly up
rooted.

Ogula bade the rest of thehunting party remain in

silence while the white man, Nkombi Kakhi and himself
went ahead to see what was the palaver.
Because of the keenly, strongly developed sense of
smell of the elephant, Ogula kept to the leeward, advanc

ing cautiously and signaling the others to do the same.

Twas towards four o clock and there wasn t any wind
a great thing in their favor. For the winds of Africa
are constantly veering, and constitute one of the greatest
difficulties in
elephant stalking. On the other hand, the
sight of the elephant is defective and he does not hear
i Thanks. 2 Hear.
216 HELL S PLAYGROUND

good. It is therefore possible to approach him from

the leeward to within a very short distance. And this

was what the learned Ogula was doing.
Unmindful of impeding undergrowth and swaying
overgrowth, straight as a crow flies, the savage cau

tiously led the way in direction of the uprooting

sound.
With his gun Ogula pointed edge of the
off to the

bush where a small stream flowed and beyond which was

a sandy plain.
Huntingdon beheld a marvelous sight : a tusker and
a cow were intelligently helping each other to over
throw a tree that they might eat of its root !

In the bush a dismal silence reigned. The shadows

were already darkening. But in the full bright light
of the open the elephants made a glorious target.
Yet, it was impossible to shoot from where the hunters
lay. The tangled bush intervened.
Now came the most part of the adventure.
ticklish
To creep forward so as not to disturb the animals, then
sight and fire.

Suddenly, the cow lifted up her head and loudly

trumpeted !

Like a leaping leopard, Ogula took the bush and ran

parallel to the elephants !

Gone was all attempt of concealment 1

The beasts had scented danger !

The cow placed herself directly in front of the tusker

and trumpeted defiance !

Deftly Nkombi Kakhi hurled his spear!

It rebounded from the cow s trunk She tramped it !

to pieces !
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon, too, tore through the bush and made for
an opening.
He sighted. He fired. Down went the cow, a bullet
under her ear !

Off towards the plain started the tusker, and Hunting

don s bullet caught him in the thigh. He stopped sud
denly in his flight, faced about, lifted his trunk, trum

peted violently, and retraced his steps across the stream.

The cow was also on her feet. Both started at almost
incredible speed towards Huntingdon !

Huntingdon was fully alive to his danger, but there

was comfort in the thought that Ogula, the shootman,
and Nkombi Kakhi, were at hand.
his brother,

As he sighted, he retreated a little within the tangled

bush, but, alas, he backed into a tree, his helmet was
sent flying from his head and he stumbled ! He knew
he made a mistake ;
the intervening bush would divert
his shot. If he remained where he was the beasts had
him at their mercy !

Where was Ogula, and why didn t his gun speak?

And Nkombi Kakhi, his brother, why did he not make
his presence known? It is true his spear was broken
but he had his great knife and he might do something
to divert the direction of the maddened animals !

On, on, on came the beasts, the bush crackling loud

under their ponderous, quick tread What was he to !

do?
The beasts were within a few feet of him, it was now
or never he dropped his gun he sprang, he caught
the branch of a tree his legs just swung clear when
the elephants passed under them !

He felt the rush of wind accompanying their great

218 HELL S PLAYGROUND
speed, he smelled the strong odors from their bodies and
they were so big and wild that the very bush was rent
aside as they continued their flight.

Huntingdon descended and picked up his gun.

Ogula, Nkombi Kakhi he commanded, sharply.
" "

There was no answer.

The retreat of the elephants died away in the distance.

Silence, dismaland profound, reigned !

Why had the savages deserted him? He hadn t any

idea of direction There wasn t a path of any sort,
!

save the broken trail made by the elephants !

Night was near night with its horrors. Hunting

don had nothing with which to defend himself except a
gun. A
gun was useless in the dark !

Suddenly, from the rear there came a breaking of

undergrowth. It indicated a struggle, and restored

Huntingdon s courage and caution.

With finger on trigger, Huntingdon advanced towards
the sound. He felt confident something was happening
to his hunters !

And he was right !

He stopped, literally rooted with amazement ;

without
a thought of using his gun !

Shoulder to shoulder and facing an enraged leopard

were Ogula, the shootman, and Nkombi Kakhi, his
brother !

Like carved
images were the brothers, their eyes
steady in those of the treacherous, aroused cat!
Self-preservation was alive within them. They were
as alert, as determined as the cat herself. They were
beasts glaring at a beast !

Ogula s
gun lay at his feet where he didn t dare stoop
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 219

to get it. Even had he dared stoop, Huntingdon saw

with horror that his right arm hung helpless at his side.
He was unarmed. But not so his brother, Nkombi
Kakhi. The latterclutched his hunting knife in his

right hand. His muscles were tensed ready to use it !

The cat was on a bough on a line with the foreheads of

the brothers and only a few feet distant. Keeping her
eyes in those of the men, she softly lowered on her
haunches, stretched her legs and sprang !

Huntingdon could scarcely believe his eyes, as the

brothers parted, one to either side, and through the

space occupied by their bodies, leapt the cat!

Huntingdon came to life. He fired.

The steel bullet went clear through the cat !

The wounded beast turned, and faced, not the

brothers, but Huntingdon !

Her eyes glowed through the dusk like discs of angry

fire. Saliva ran from her sharp-pointed, yellow de

cayed teeth gleaming like cruel executioners in the open,

snarling mouth. Her face was wrinkled, distorted with
sardonic rage. Her tawny, brown-spotted flanks heaved
like tortured bellows !

She was wounded. Her temper was ten-fold uglier.

Motionless, helpless, stood the white man !

The beast s eyes were full in his. He was fascinated

by the grace of the beautiful creature, spellbound by
the magnificent demonstration of infuriated rage and
malignity. He knew death was there. But he could
not help it. He never thought of Ogula and Nkombi
Kakhi. He saw nothing, knew nothing, save the beast
rampant and vindictive just a few yards from him !

Then, slowly the cat crept towards him. She dis-

220 HELL S PLAYGROUND
dained to spring. This human creature was at her
mercy She put out
! her claw to fell him, when involun-

tarity Huntingdon dropped to the ground.

He awaited his death. He uttered one word:
Marjorie!
It contained a world of regret, but not a quiver of
fear !

He felt the cat s breath on his neck, her claw on his

back then a form leaped over him
"

Master, MASTER, MASTER !

"

came Nkombi Kakhi s

tense tones.

Huntingdon leaped to his feet and saw Nkombi

Kakhi s knife in the throat of the beast, and Nkombi
Kakhi s hands digging into her windpipe, while he ex
erted strength to hold her!
all his

Ogula with his left arm smashed his blunderbuss over

the cat s head !

Fighting in extremis, with insistent devilish rage, she

plunged her claws deep in the bare breast of the brave

Nkombi Kakhi !

Huntingdon knew he must pull himself together, get

Nkombi Kakhi was done for.
the cat, or
He placed his gun under her ear and riddled her with
shot.

She writhing sinuously, her beautiful body

died,

swaying gracefully even after the breath had left her

lungs !

White man and two black men looked into each

other s eyes equal to equal then, slowly, Hunt
ingdon reached out both hands and grasped those of his
preservers.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Akawa, Nkombi Kakhi, akawa, Ogula,
"

his brother,

akawa mpolo mpolo! l

"

"

grunted the brothers in unison,

"

Aye," akawa,
Mpolo Ogantani, Master
"

"

Aye,"
answered Huntingdon, feelingly.
Nkombi Kakhi cleansed his wounds with moist earth,
then over them he rubbed the milk from the leaf of a
low bush.
Huntingdon examined Ogula s arm. It was broken
at the elbow. A shoulder break would not have been so
bad. Huntingdon had two bones instead of one to deal
with. But he never hesitated.
He propped Ogula against the tree, and, pressing his
knee against the giant s breast, he exerted all his strength
and snapped the dislocated bones into position.
Not a muscle of Ogula s stolid face moved, although
the pain must have been intense.
The arm was placed in bamboo splints and securely
bound with bush rope.
No thanks came the second time from the great Ogula,
nor from Nkombi Kakhi, hisi brother.
Them arm, how him break ? Huntingdon asked of
" "

Ogula.
"

When
master go for shoot elephants, me, Ogula,
here something for back. I fear leopard. I fear um

jump for white man and chop him. Me, Ogula, brud-
der to Nkombi Kakhi, no see cat for ground. For top
I look Me, Ogula, brudder for Nkombi Kakhi, fall
um.
for ground. Arm he come hard and mek so. Fear no
live for Ogula. Fear only live for um master, King
i
Thanks, very much, thanks, great thanks I
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon. Them
Me, Ogula, I wait. cat he come.

My brudder, Nkombi Kakhi, he live. Me, Ogula, and

him brudder, Nkombi Kakhi, look them cat for eye.
Um come, me, Ogula and Nkombi Kakhi, him brudder,
mek and Ogula leaped to one side.
so,"

Nkombi Kakhi be proper brother for Ogula, the

"

shootman," said Huntingdon, admiration in his tones.

grunted the savage.

"

Aye,"
"

And you, Nkombi Kakhi, how you look 1

them leop
ard? "

"

Me !
"

and Nkombi Kakhi arose to his full height.

He acted his words, vividly, dramatically.
"

After
them njogo kill spear for Nkombi Kakhi, um wonder
2

for um head why them gun of um brudder Ogula, never

mek noise? Um hear someone come for ground. Um
fear for um brudder, Ogula, the shootman. Um creep
forward, softly, softly so. Um see all t ing for um
eye. Um brudder, Ogula, the shootman. Them cat.
Them cat um eye look them eye of my brudder. Me,
I savvy what them cat t ink. Me, I go softly, softly,
so. Me, I stan by my brudder, Ogula, the shootman.
Me, Nkombi Kakhi, I fear only for my brudder. Them
cat he come, so me an my brudder mek so

Master, um gun
speak. Palaver finish !
"

The simple, dramatic recital thrilled the white man

through and through.
Such courage, such sublime indifference to death, such
confidence in their own powers ! Civilization knows
nothing beyond !

Huntingdon was awed into silence, then weakness

1 Look is always used for tee.
2
Elephant.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 223

came o er him, the weakness of fear, from which Ogula,

the shootman, aroused him.
"

Master, night he ketch. Must tek walk for Chief

Ragundo s town."

But it was too dark to proceed through the bush with

out a light.
Nkombi Kakhi stripped great pieces of bark from
trees rich with rosin, and, carrying a
lighted torch in
each hand, he led the way.
Their incense was a relief from the jungle s dank
breath, and Huntingdon inhaled great draughts of it.
The rest of the hunting party was found seated in
silence where Ogula bade them remain.
At wounded men, they commenced to
sight of the
jabber excitedly, but with a gesture Nkombi Kakhi
silenced them.
More bush-lights were procured, and the march was
made to Chief Ragundo s town, where great prepara
tions had been made to welcome the Great White King.
In the center of the common and only street of the
town, the reception took place.
Huge leaped high into space, casting a romantic,
fires

softening glow over sordid surroundings of dirt and

squalor.
Chief Ragundo was tall, stately and dignified.
Royally he carried his ridiculous clothing, an old cloth,
a flannelet nightshirt and a ragged straw hat, and in
his right hand he bore a carved ebony staff, the sign
of his rank.
He saluted the white man gravely, while his people fell
on one knee, laid their right hands on their heads, then
on their breasts, acknowledging allegiance and render-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
ing homage to the Great White King. Such honor had
not been accorded a white man in many a year.
Huntingdon was seated on a camp chair before a
blazing fire, on the smoke side. Smoke keeps away
mosquitoes.
Chief Ragundo solemnly seated himself upon a crude
ebony stool, facing Huntingdon.
The quiet dignity of the old chief and the silent, re
spectful attitude of his people pleased Huntingdon and
impressed him. A
visit to one of the civilized courts

of Europe could not have been more solemn or cere

monious, and Huntingdon s manner towards the negro
chief was that which he would have employed before his
own sovereign, save that he would have remained
standing.
But what Huntingdon was not aware of was the im
posing figure he himself presented in the full light of
fire, at ease and self-confident, surrounded
the brilliant

by black, nude savages, whose stolid countenances

masked their admiration of him and their delight at
having honored their town with his presence.
A slave brought forth gifts for the white man and
laid them at his feet. They consisted of plantains,
chickens, manioc, bottles of palm-oil, bunches of palm-
nuts and hand-woven mats.
The oldest son of the chief acted as spokesman. His
cloth was spun from pineapple fiber and over his left
shoulder was carelessly thrown a white tunic, adding
majesty to his tall, slender form.
Between Chief Ragundo and the white man and in
front of the encircling savages he took up his stand ; he

gazed into the face of the white man for a full minute,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 225

then amidst solemn silence and in the Ouroungo dialect,

he spoke slowly and impressively, after the manner of the
savage, using appropriate and eloquent gestures.
Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes, and
"

all his peeples, bade welcome the Great White King

Huntingdon and all his people. The black man was
always friend to the English, and the English had al
ways treated the black man proper, proper. The Ou
roungoes had no love in their hearts for the French.
l
They do not understand the mouth of the French. But
many Ouroungoes spoke mouth of the English.
Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes,
"

looked shame from the bottom of his heart that he had

not more or richer gifts for the Great White King
Huntingdon. But, alas, the French had recently raided
2
his town for neppo and stolen everything he had not
had a chance to hide.
"

The plantain, manioc and palm-nuts were for the

men of the Great White King Huntingdon. The chick
ens, the palm-oil and the mats were for the Great White
King himself.

Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes, and

"

all him peeples, would never make war palaver with the

Great White King and him peeples the English. All

would dwell in peace, as brothers."

The spokesman stopped and turned to Ngumbe, who

stood just behind his master s chair.

It was Ngumbe s duty to interpret.

Midst solemn silence, Ngumbe, fully appreciating
the occasion and the honor vested in him, advanced

slowly and with great dignity until he was directly in

i 2 Taxes.
Language.
226 HELL S PLAYGROUND
front of his master on a line with the spokesman, then,

gazing steadily into the white man s face, in pidgin

English, he translated slowly and accurately.
As Ngumbe finished, all eyes were focused upon the
white man. It was his turn to make answer.

Directly addressing Ngumbe, and in pidgin English,

Huntingdon spoke slowly and solemnly and in the third

person, as the savage had done.

Huntingdon, the Great White King, was pleased to
"

look Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes, him

town and him peoples.
Huntingdon, the Great White King, thanked
"

Ra
gundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes, for the gifts
presented unto him and his men.
Huntingdon, the Great White King, had brought
"

gifts, proper gifts, for Ragundo, the Great Chief of the

Ouroungoes, and him peoples. There were cloth, rum,

tobacco, clay pipes, matches and a great bag of salt.
Besides, there was elephant meat, just killed.
Huntingdon, the Great White King, was glad to
"

know that Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes,

and him peoples, were his friends, his brothers.

Huntingdon, the Great White King, appreciated to

"

the bottom of him heart the great welcome accorded him.

He regretted to the bottom of him heart that sunup on
next day must find him on the return march to him fac
tory, where plenty work-palaver live for him to attend
to. But some time again Huntingdon, the Great White
King, would take walk to the town of Ragundo, the
Great Chief of the Ouroungoes.
Huntingdon, the Great White King, would always
"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 227

be a friend to Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroun-

goes, and there would never be any fight-palaver between

them."

Again solemn silence.

Again Ngumbe solemnly stepped forth and, directly
addressing Chief Ragundo in the Ouroungo tongue he
interpreted his master s speech.
Through his son, the chief thanked the white man
and again Ngumbe interpreted.
Then Mbega brought forth the white man s gifts and
laid them at the feet of Chief Ragundo.
No smile, no expression of appreciation broke over
the countenance of the old chief, although the gifts were
the greatest hehad ever received.
He spoke long and impressively, not to his son, as he
had done before, but to Ngumbe.
Again, as befitting a state interpreter, Ngumb trans
lated slowly and solemnly.

Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes, look

"

joy for him heart because of the gifts mpolo of the

Great White King Huntingdon.
But Ragundo, the Great Chief of the Ouroungoes,
"

was poor, very, very poor. So were him peeples. Un

less the Great White King Huntingdon gave him three

francs argent with which to pay his neppo to the

French government, Ragundo, the Great Chief of the
Ouroungoes, must suffer the ignominy of arrest and im
prisonment!
If such calamity should happen, Ragundo, the
"

Great Chief of the Ouroungoes, would forever look

shame before the eyes of him peeples !
"
228 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The sublime and the ridiculous tragedy and opera ;

bouffe! But not so much as a wink of an eyelash be

trayed Huntingdon s humor.
Through Ngumbe, he made fitting answer.
Huntingdon, the Great White King, would not only
"

pay the yearly neppo of the great and illustrious Chief

of the Ouroungoes, but of every male in his town !
"

The offer was received in a manner worthy of its

munificence.
The old chief bowed his head and his people drew
nearer. The white man s
generosity was the greatest
they had ever experienced, and his wealth must be the

wealth of the whole world. Thus Huntingdon s fame

expanded into awe.
There were exactly eleven men in the town subject to

taxation. Huntingdon munificence s

represented thirty-
three francs in cash Nothing at all to the white man,
!

but saved eleven freeborn natives the ignominy of

it

arrest and imprisonment by an alien government for the

nonpayment of taxes !

The palaver was slow and tedious, but neither by

sign nor gesture did Huntingdon betray his weariness.
The events of the day had been very stirring Hunting ;

don was hungry and dreadfully fatigued. He wished

to retire, to get off his clothing, to stretch out at full

length, but he did not know how to end the palaver and
he would not for anything offend the Ouroungoes.
The mother of Chief Ragundo advanced. She was
so old and shriveled that her skin hung from her bones ;

her face was that of a cadaver, her hands and feet were
claws, her breasts were dried and wrinkled like old fruit
and between her toothless gums was a clay pipe.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 229

In silence she proffered something done up in a dried

plantain leaf, securely tied with bush rope.

Solemnly Ngumbe removed the wrapping and dis
closed an egg !

It might have been the Kohinoor diamond, so majes

tically were the Great White King s thanks tendered by

the important Ngumbe, accompanied by two heads of
tobacco.
The old woman stared at such prodigality, then, grab

bing the tobacco, without a word, she fled into the dark
ness.

"What next?" was Huntingdon s

weary conjecture.
But relief was at hand.
Makaya unceremoniously announced chop!
Jabbering and gesticulating, the natives drew away.
Huntingdon enjoyed his supper alone. It was served
on a folding table, under the extended grass-mat roof
of a house set off by itself and especially cleansed for
him.
From empty bottles bush-lights spluttered, lighting
his table and breathing subtle soothing incense on Hunt
ingdon s tired nerves. Then to his nostrils was wafted
the appetizing odor of roasting beef, which, about three
hundred feet away, was arranged on huge racks ingeni
ously constructed from green wood over blazing fires.
In picturesque abandon, the natives sat or lay on
the ground, their voices mingling with the crackling
of the firewood, their minds intent on the approaching
feast.

O er men and children was the charm of the equatorial

tropical night, of Africa, of the fire s soft glow. In
the heavens the moon was so white and big and brilliant
230 HELL S PLAYGROUND
that other planets of the first magnitude were completely
blotted out.
Just beyond the town was the dense bush, from whose
mysterious depths, now and then, came the protests of
its denizens, angry because fire, a more potent beast
than they, curtailed their roaming.
Oh, the witchery of it all the ; romance !
They
opened the flood-gates of Huntingdon s very soul and
he surrendered unto them. He was a white man, alone,
thousands of miles from the land that gave him birth,
surrounded by wild beasts and venomous serpents by ;

untrammelled space by great ; stretches of solemn

silences;by forests, jungles, plains, savannahs; by sav
ages, who feared, served and protected where they could
have braved, commanded and destroyed!
Strange, indeed, this thing: this dominance of the
white complexion over those of darker hues Strange, !

indeed, the tranquillity of the white man in an environ

ment hostile to him in every way !

Then came the memory of the day s hunt, almost in

credible in its events. Brave Ogula, the shootman, and
Nkombi Kakhi, his brother They should never want as
!

long asHuntingdon for to them he owed his lif e

lived, ;

and some day, when he had finished with Africa, he

would relate it all to Marjorie. He foresaw the sym
pathy in her expressive eyes, he felt the pressure of her

magnetic fingers.
A shout arose from the fires.

The meat was roasted.

In friendly groups the natives sat about eating it.
The world was merry with feasting and the music of
happy voices ;
the fires died down and fair Diane ruled
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 231

supreme. The night was as bright as day, the shadows

sharply defined as in sunlight time.
Suddenly, out of the bush, there rolled the long notes
of a lion s roar.

through the shadowy bush, it o erleaped

It vibrated
the babel of tongues and smote the ear of the white man.
He seemed to be the only one who heard it. It thrilled
him beyond expression.
His eyes tried to pierce the dense shadows from
whence the sounds rolled. He pictured the tawny, lean
lion, the King of Beasts, his head thrown back, his mouth

open, his mighty lungs forcing the air through his

mighty throat !

Again the roar! It was a succession of sonorous

wave sounds coming nearer and nearer, gaining in
volume and strength until the very earth vibrated beneath
them.
Such full, round notes Huntingdon had never heard
in all his life. He had heard lions roar in menageries,
but the sound was not the same. No wild beast is the
same in captivity. He is artificial, like his imprison

ment.
The roar was near at hand, at Huntingdon s rear.

He turned, expecting to see the beast advance into

the open.
No fear was the white man s. The King of Beasts
is worthy of his title. He attacks only when he fears
attack.

Suddenly the roar came from another direction. It

was farther away it rolled into dense space, then died
;

out. Was the lion uttering his defiance at the intrusion

of man, or was he simply calling his mate?
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The bush became strangely silent and empty. Hunt
ingdon was sorry. He would have liked the roaring to
continue indefinitely.
The babel among the natives had ceased.
They were grouped closer together.
Then the night breeze brought a low voice to Hunt
ingdon s ear.

Twas that of Nkombi Kakhi.

What he said, the white man could not interpret, for
he spoke in the Ouroungo tongue. But whatever the
bushnum s tale, it was listened to in solemn silence.
Nkombi Kakhi was minutely retailing and pantomim
ing the adventures of the day.
It was Huntingdon, the Great White King, who
strangled the leopard with his slim white hands !

It was he who had killed two elephants with one shot !

It was he who had dispatched the ready-to-spring

cobra !

It was he who had set the broken shoulder of Ogula,

the giant shootman !

It was he who put magic on the wounds of Nkombi

Kakhi, and Nkombi Kakhi declared he already felt the
healing of the hurt !

The adventures were an hour in the telling. But no

one interrupted. Chief Ragundo was as interested as
were his people. So were Mbega, Makaya, Ngumbe
and the others who were not with the white man when
the stirring events were happening.
The silence after their recital endured for a full mo
ment.
"

Aye, it be so," then grunted Ogula, the shootman !

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 233

Huntingdon knew nothing of the additional fame

thrust upon him, and when, like a great shade, Chief

Ragundo arose before him and muttered solemnly :

" 1
Otangani, Mpolo Tata, Mpolo Tata," Hunting
don wondered what it was all about.

Suiting his tones to the old savage s, he as gravely

responded :

"

Ragundo, Mpolo Tata, Mpolo Tata."

Again the chief summoned his people, and an enor
mous tam-tam was presented to the white man. The
drum was a log fully ten feet long, smoke-grimed and
blackened with age. It was only partly hollow with a

narrow, oblong slit in the side. Two men seated them

selveson the ground and resting the drum horizontally
on their extended feet, they beat upon the aperture
with rounded, heavy sticks, causing a deep sound to
come forth, which Ngumbe declared could be heard a
distance of twenty-five miles !

"

It be so, Master," corroborated Nkombi Kakhi.

Him speak from one bush town to another him tell
"

when Frenchmans come to make thief-palaver for we

peeples."

Two
other gifts followed: an ebony stool and an im
mense clay pipe, both crudely carved. As specimens
of native handiwork, the gifts were unique and exceed

ingly interesting.
But Huntingdon never betrayed his interest.
"

Awalca
"

was all he said.

"

Aye," grunted Ragundo in response.

The fires were replenished and the festivities began.
1 White man, great king, great king.
234 HELL S PLAYGROUND

Huntingdon watched the dance until the rum and

mimbo entered the heads of the performers. Then, un
noticed, he retired to his quarters.
His camp bed and mosquito bar had been set up in
the fetish house, from which everything had been re
moved except several fetishes and some huge grass mats,
which hung on the horizontal Avails of bamboo. Hunt
ingdon closely examined the fetishes and discovered
them to be red parrot feathers, tied together with
plaited fiber; others were round disks of something dark
and soft like putty, in which were embedded red berries,
hard and lustrous. The mats were marvels of coloring
and perfect weaving. The mesh was very fine the ;

background was pale golden and through it ran a

shadow design of tomato-red squares, while the edges
were finished with short, fine fringe of tomato-red and
deep yellow. Huntingdon wondered what they were
used for, and longed to possess them.
Huntingdon had scarcely tucked the mosquito bar
under him, when Ngumbe entered, followed by a bush-
girl.
Not even when he acted as interpreter did Ngumbe
carry himself with such pomp. He was the bearer of
a great gift from Chief Ragundo. Moreover, he knew
his master had not yet accepted a native wife and he
was proud to be her escort !

"

The deuce !
"

muttered Huntingdon.
He couldn t insult his host by sending the girl back.
He wouldn t insult Marjorie, his beloved, by accepting
her. When he promised to be true, he meant it. The
men of his race never broke their word. On the other

hand, black women were disgusting to him. He knew

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 235

none of them were virgins ;

none of them were cleanly.
But, everything else aside, to share a negress with a
black man was something he could not do !

Ngumbe, say akawa to Ragundo, Great Chief of the

"

Ouroungoes. King Huntingdon appreciates his great

gift."

Huntingdon couldn t see what the girl looked like.

The hut was lighted only by the fireswhich gleamed
through the bamboo splits, causing her and Ngumbe to
loom up like great shades. But Huntingdon knew she
would, of course, be young and desirable. The chief
would send him none other.
"

Him be daughter for Chief Ragundo," said

Ngumbe.
"

All right. Good night, Ngumbe. Lef um here."

What was Huntingdon to do with the girl?

She remained standing in the shadows.
Treat em all like dogs, or they ll get the best of you,
Old Wallace s warning leaped suddenly through
Huntingdon s brain.
Huntingdon smiled. The warning wasn t necessary.
He knew his own strength. No black woman could
tempt him !

But what was he to do with the girl?

To his great surprise, she addressed him in English.
Master Huntingdon, I look you."
"

Pier voice was young, liquid and soft.

"

Come here !
"

She came to his bedside. She stood between him and

the light. Her body was sharply outlined. It was
slender. The hips curved ever so slightly and she wore
only a scant loin cloth.
236 HELL S PLAYGROUND
She had evidently been brought up at a mission. She
would know something of the ways of the white man.
He would feign sickness.
"

What s your name?

"

"

E-lin-da."

you savvy when white man be sick?

"

E-lin-da,
"For
belly?"

The banal word grated on Huntingdon.

"

Yes."

"

You tek medceen? "

"

Yes."

Huntingdon drank a great draught of brandy. He

was sparring for time, wondering what to do next.
Again the girl spoke :

You marry me ?
" "

What was he to do ?
I fit marry you for two francs," she added.
"

She was certainly not slow about her wooing.

"

I fit when belly ketch well again."

The girl was silent.

Huntingdon felt her sullenness.

But he would soon banish that.
E-lin-da, you want fine cloth and kerchief ; fine
"

fine

past all Ouroungo women?

"

girl, quickly and eagerly.

answered the
"

I want,"

Huntingdon knew how to handle her now.

When day ketch, King Huntingdon fit for dash
"

E-lin-da something fine pas all Ouroungo women.

Take them mat," and Huntingdon indicated those given
him by the old chief, put them for ground and go to
"

sleep, one time. Proper morning I fit for give you them
t
ings."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 237

And you
"

never marry me? "

When
"

skin him ketch proper well."

He couldn t bring himself to again use that awful

word.
She stretched herself on the ground at his feet.
Without, the fires still blazed. The natives were
proper drunk. Pandemonium reigned supreme, but
Huntingdon slept the sleep of exhaustion.
In the morning, he awoke before the girl.

Quietly, he arose and from a trunk he took a gorgeous

yellow and purple silk handkerchief and a cloth woven
in Europe especially for Africa. Its background was
a rich, dark green and in the center there was a huge
peacock of brilliant yellow. The border was a conven
tional scroll design in crimson. The clash of colors
offended the white man, but when he awakened the girl
and her eyes fell upon the gifts, they lighted up with
pleasure, and she eagerly possessed herself of them.
Over her old cloth she wrapped the new one, then,
before his shaving glass, which Huntingdon held for
her, she arranged the kerchief into an oblong turban,

pulling it low on her forehead. It was very becoming

to the shape of her face and her ebony skin, and the
brilliant cloth effectively outlined her sinuous, youthful
figure. She was good to look upon, as she smiled her
pleasure, showing perfect, small, white teeth.
Huntingdon added two francs to his gifts.
The was eager to show
girl off her finery, and left
without a word of thanks.
What a relief!

Huntingdon hoped, for old Chief Ragundo s sake, she

would remember only the gifts.
238 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Ngumbe entered. He was wreathed in insinuating
smiles.

Huntingdon appeared not to notice them.

Mkaya, too, grinned, when he served early coffee.
Huntingdon was delighted. Perhaps now they would
let him alone on woman-palaver.

But it was not to be so.

As he was leaving the town, through Ngumbe, Ra-
gundo demanded if the white man did not want to take
his daughter home with him?

Huntingdon had to acquiesce.

She joined his caravan.
With envy, the other women watched her go. She
strutted like a peacock rigged out in her new, gaudy

finery.
The greatest honor possible had come to her. She
was to be the wife of Huntingdon, the Great White
King!
Huntingdon swore beneath his breath and won
deredhow he d get out of the contretemps,
He knew it would take tact diplomacy of the finest
kind. If the worst came, he d
buy her of her father
and ship her north on an English boat to Morrison.
He preferred to send her to Captain Haywood, but his
whereabouts were constantly changing. As for Long-
worthy, the girl would be stolen e er she got up the
Niger to his station. Wallace? It would be a joke on
the old coaster but cruelty to the girl. If Wallace
received her which was not likely his present wife

might poison her. Morrison would welcome her; the

Captain of the steamer would deliver her safely into his
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 239

hands and Morrison could dispose of her to his ad

vantage.
But Huntingdon bothered himself for naught. At
Cape Lopez the girl disappeared for over a week.
Huntingdon finally saw her with Makaya. Makaya s
charms had won her.
Huntingdon was so relieved that he dashed every one
of his hands an extra supply of rum and tobacco.
But his troubles with women were just beginning.
Daily he was pestered. It was known that Makaya
had Chief Ragundo s daughter. It was gossip that the
white man had given her to the Loango out of appre
ciation for the latter s fine
cooking!
Again, the women brought by different chiefs were of
all types: the immature, the budding, the full-blown.

Their complexions blended from the soft cafe au lait of

the half-caste, to the rich ebony of the negro.
Their prices varied from $3.00 to $5.00 a month each,
to be paid to their owners, with food and scant raiment
for the woman.
The half-caste had been wife to a score of white men,
either dead, or returned to Europe. She prided herself
on it, and she was universally envied by the other women.
Disgust prompted Huntingdon to throw chiefs and
the women out. But he remembered Smithson s advice.
He affected dissatisfaction.
The result was that he was continually importuned.
But he was so liberal with gifts, that chiefs and women
went away pleased. They saw only the gifts.
You re new, Monsieur Huntingdon," shrugged Le-
"

Blanc, the French trader.

"

Wait until you re out

240 HELL S PLAYGROUND
longer, until Africa gets you, you won t be so finicky.
You ll do as we do, not only hire the woman, but hire
a guard to keep her from sneaking away with your cook,
or houseboy, or her husband or owner. These women
are not to blame for what they are. They know no
better. They are unmoral, not immoral. They are
merchandise to be realized upon. The natives have no
domestic animals, lands or other sources of revenue.
They have only their women. The men buy as many
wives as they can. They desire children females.
In many parts of the country childless women are put
to death. A girl is sold in marriage almost at her birth.
When she grows to maturity, she is let out, just as one
hires out any sort of servant or animal. woman A
daren t take a lover of her own choosing and give her
self to him. Discovery means severe punishment to
herself, and mutilation, perhaps death, to her paramour.
Woman is
always for sale, never given away. A
native will give away everything he possesses, except
his women. Princesses and slaves are in the same boat:
a source of revenue to their owners."
"

Queer customs these beggars have," commented

Huntingdon.
"

As for a white man," continued LeBlanc, no mat "

ter how low in the social scale he may be in civilization,

here, in Africa, he is a
superior being. To be his mis
tress,brings everlasting fame to a black woman. They
trade on it. What is a chief s first remark when he
brings forth his women ? She be all right. She savvy
white man palaver. She was wife to So-and-so and
So-and-so. She never born d pickins she savvy white
man palaver, plenty plenty.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 241

Huntingdon fidgeted impatiently.

"

What s the matter with you?

"

cried the French

man, keenly alive to Huntingdon s disgust.
"

I m only
telling you the custom of the country. I m not re
sponsible for it. Nor did I fight against it, as you are

doing. I accepted it. I ve bought every black woman

who took my fancy save one and she s not for me.
She s Ndio, the Gabonaise, mistress to the Commandant.
You ve seen her? "

Huntingdon shook his head. All native women looked

alike to him. He saw no beauty, attraction in any of
them.
"

The Gabonaise," went on the Frenchman, growing

more heated as he proceeded,
"

is as superior to the
Ouroungo women as Venus is to a vegetable vender.
Mon Dieu! just to look at her is enough to send your
blood through the top of your head. A more regal,
savage, seductive creature was never conceived. She s
not an hour over sixteen, as supple as a tigress, as
warm-blooded as Venus-Aphrodite herself. In her, all
the elemental passions run riot. She knows no law save
that of her emotions. Sex calls to sex the moment she
and man meet. Man can no more withstand her than
the blossom will creep away from the sunlight. She is
beautiful, magnifique! The one woman for whom I
suffer, the only woman I cannot buy
"

Again, Huntingdon s disgust was so marked, that the

Frenchman cried furiously :

Look down upon and draw away from us white men

"

all you will, M sieu Huntingdon, the black woman will

get you as sure as LeBlanc, the Frenchman, am talk
I,

ing to you ! You re in Africa and Africa makes shuttle-

 HELL S PLAYGROUND
cocks of white men ! You ll
go down and when you do,
remember LeBlanc !
"

LeBlanc s revelations increased Huntingdon s dis

gust. It was bad enough for a white man to cohabit
with a black woman, but to wade deeper into the quag
mire by placing a guard over her that she might not
run away to a man of her own race, was the lowest
depths of degradation. Huntingdon swore it would
never come to him.
October brought the rains, increased heat and hordes
of mosquitoes and other pests. Huntingdon s appetite
decreased and he did not sleep well at night. He sought
the Douane and each helped the other to endure and for
get.
 CHAPTER XVI
TWAS the week before Christmas.

Huntingdon surveyed the changes in his bungalow

with the keen interest and delight of a connoisseur.
The living-room was transformed into a great hall,
after the manner of feudal England.

Everything in it was massive, befitting the country

that gave them birth.
The old cross-beamed ceiling and rough plank floor
remained. Around the walls ran a rough, broad shelf
of ebony, on which were specimens of African handi
crafts carved pipes of various kinds and sizes cala
:
;

bashes ; hammered brasses ; canoe-shovels ; paddles ; mini

ature canoes ;
all done in ivory and
sorts of animals

ebony ; ivory and ebony hair ornaments, bracelets and

anklets.
There were also ju-ju charms ; tam-tams, little and
big ;
knives of grotesque designs ; powder horns boxes ;

of bark ; elephants tails ; hippopotami teeth

leopards ;

claws ; birds nests ;

vines interwoven in bizarre forms ;
blown crocodile eggs skins of snakes, and a host of
;

other interesting things.

Some of the idols were tiny, others large. Some were
ebony, others of reddish mahogany still others were ;

soft wood smeared with red and white

clay. Their fea
turesand headdress were that of Egypt. So far as
Huntingdon was able to learn, the Ouroungoes did not
243
244 HELL S PLAYGROUND
worship idols, and he recalled Smithson s statement that
the only religion they had was that of superstitious, de

grading fear, and that their only priest was the Nganga,
or witch doctor, an all-powerful creature, tyrannous
and overbearing and universally feared and bribed.
An immense fireplace and a chimney of ebony extended
to the ceiling.
The andirons were great lions, on whose backs rested
massive, oaken logs.
The furniture was of roseate mahogany, highly pol
ished and exquisitely carved in bold, typical designs.
The oblong dining table consisted of two immense
logs upheld by a number of lions.
At either end was a chair carved from one piece of
wood, representing a gorilla on his haunches, his arms
outspread.
The settle along either side of the table was also up
held by lions, and its back-rest was a broad rail

carved in centipedes, scorpions, frogs and crocodiles.

The sideboard and buffet took up one entire side of
the room. The doors underneath were carved with
jungle scenes, and the plain, massive polished top made
a striking background for the exquisite things upon it:
drinking cups of horn, ivory, and ebony a punch bowl ;

of carved ebony, with handles and feet of unpolished

ivory peg glasses of ivory inlaid with ebony a cork
; ;

screw set in an enormous hippopotamus tooth a great ;

salad spoon and fork of crudely carved ebony and a ;

grotesque ebony idol smeared with red clay.

Carved from one piece of ebony was the kneeling fig
ure of a bushwoman, in all the grace of young woman
hood. Her upraised arms supported a tray on her
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 245

head and on it were a Turkish coffee service, a nargileh,

Turkish tobacco and cigarettes.
In contrast to the heavy ebony coffee table and its ap
pointments, was a delicately carved teak-wood tabouret,
with a tea service of frail Japanese china a brass kettle ;

and an alcohol lamp ; dainty, exquisitely carved Japan

a carved, brass
ese pipes with tiny, silver-lined bowls ;

Japanese ash bowl, and a dainty ivory idol. In them

was read all the refinement of old Japan, juxtaposed
with the crude savagery and primitiveness of the equator.
The old lounge was replaced by a broad divan of
bamboo, with pillows of native cotton in slips of dull-

gold pineapple cloth, and a magnificent leopard .skin

lined with soft, rich, orange Morocco leather.

The huge spine of a sword fish was mounted on ebony

and utilized for a helmet rack, while a unique gong was
made of an exploded brass torpedo shell suspended by
a thong of leopard hide from the crossed points of two
s

unpolished ivories seven feet tall. Their deep, creamy

tint contrasted effectively with the brass bell, the clap

per of which was a very odd native knife with an ivory

handle.
The walls were hung with trophies of the chase,
mounted on rough blocks of ebony.
Two grinning skulls were side by side ;
a negro s and
a gorilla s. It was difficult to tell them apart.
From the ceiling beams and supported by invisible
wires to give them the appearance of flying and of life
were white ibis, storks and cranes pink flamingoes ; ;

gray parrots with red tails gorgeous, vain peacocks

; ;

a great blue plantaineater, and an enormous eagle, the

leopard of the air.

246 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The tout-ensemble was not set and conventional as
in a museum or other show place it spoke of intimacy,
;

as though it were on congenial terms with its master,

and so it was, for Huntingdon loved the room and wrote
minutely about it to Marjorie and his mother.
One would have thought that this magnificent chamber
would have appealed to the savages. But strange to
say, it did not. The savages were more impressed with
the fathoms and fathoms of unbleached muslin covering
the walls and ceilings of the sleeping-rooms. Wood
could be gathered in the forests, animals hunted in the

jungles, and furniture carved and made by native car

penters under the supervision of the mission, but fathoms
of trade cloth so wantonly covering walls and ceilings

represented untold wealth to the simple minds of the

savages. And again they averred that the Great White
King owned all the wealth of the world !

The verandas, too, had undergone a great

side

change. Each was divided into two compartments.

The rear one was the smaller and in it was a shower
bath.
The shower was a great rubber bag operated by a
pulley, and the tub was the ordinary zinc oval in gen
eral use by the traders.
The other compartment was fitted up as a rest- and
reading-room.
Huntingdon s was of course the more complete of the
two.
The furniture, a divan and several low, easy chairs,
were imported from Madeira and were wicker. A low
tabouret was of carved African teak. Shelves con-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 247

tained reading matter of all descriptions, and there were

desks of ebony fitted with writing materials.

Although no guests other than little Sadler had yet

come to Huntingdon, he kept open house and he would
have welcomed any white man who emerged from the
bush. But no Englishmen were voyaging at that time
of the year, and if there were any French or other na
tionalities en route, they sought the bungalows of their
compatriots.
Christmas day the Nigeria was expected.
At Sierra Leone on the way out, a cable reached

Skipper Hains, inviting him and his officers to the feast

which was to celebrate the completion of the changes
in Huntingdon s
bungalow.
Sadler was to come down from the Ogowe ;
Moore
and the Douane were invited.
The little dry season was on. Ogula, the shootman,
and Nkombi Kakhi, his brother, had bagged game
galore. Besides there were a manatee-manga weighing
over five hundred pounds ; an immense turtle and the
biggest oysters Huntingdon ever looked upon.
Sunup Christmas morning found Ogula and Nkombi
Kakhi roasting game.
No white man s feast ever before created such a
furore. From all directions the natives came. The
beach was noisy with canoes, laden with gifts for the
whie man. Most of them were worthless and insignifi
cant. But every gift was received in the proper man
ner by the officious Ngumbe dressed in new white ducks,
and presents of tobacco, salt, matches, clay pipes, beads
and mirrors were given in exchange.
248 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The eyes of the savages glowed big with such munifi
cence. Again and again comment was made on the vast
wealth of their Mpolo Tata Otangani.
In the early morning the little Oka hove into sight.
She crossed the bay at a high rate of speed.

Through his glasses Huntingdon discovered Sadler,

standing at the wheel, laughing with the native pilot.

Huntingdon was at the beach to meet him. Both men
were in immaculate whites.
"

Merry Christmas," called Huntingdon over the

water.
"

Aye !
Merry Christmas," came back Sadler s
hearty
response.
"

Aye,"
answered Huntingdon, leaping to the Oka s

deck and wringing little Sadler s hands.

With his characteristic boyishness, Sadler yelled:

Sunlight, give them great White the dash I

"

King
bring um."

Sunlight staggered under the weight of an immense

tusk of ivory, exquisitely carved from end to end in

centipedes, scorpions, birds and beasts.

If you thank me for the bally thing, Huntingdon,
"

I ll take it back," Sadler shouted, e er Huntingdon could

speak.
Huntingdon pressed the little fellow s hand, hard.
"

Git the hell out o here with it," yelled Sadler, push
ing the giant Sunlight down the gangplank.
Moore came swaggering along, dressed also in white,
and swinging a cane.
Sadler sniffed at his approach. The trade perfume
was unmistakable. But Sadler made no comment he ;

clasped Moore s hand as though they were the best of

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 249

friends meeting after a long parting, and said :

"

Merry
Christmas, Moore."

Aye, the same to you and

"

Huntingdon."
"

Merry Christmas
"

Aye," responded Huntingdon,

and many of them."
Moore and Sadler looked over the bungalow. They
merely glanced into the bedrooms and the transformed
verandas ; their j oy was expended on the great center
room.
And was magnificent to look upon. The day was
it

clear and beautiful. Not a cloud was in the heavens and

the sunlight showed up every nook and corner of the
room and every piece of its unique and appropriate fur
nishing.
The spinal bone of the sword fish attracted Sadler.
Moore expressed loud admiration for the drinking cups
and punch bowl and vowed he would have duplicates
made.
"Indeed," cried little
Sadler, s nobody s outfit
"it

I ll be a-copying. come down and enjoy King Hunt

I ll

ingdon s when I can sneak off can t I, King? "

Huntingdon smiled affectionately.

"

You are always welcome to what I ve got so are

you, Moore. We re Englishmen, we re aliens

-
that s

enough."

Moore had the good grace to thank him. Sadler

said nothing but commenced to whistle:
Do you love me, Mollie Darling?
" "

The song took Huntingdon to England. Letters

would be on the Nigeria letters from Marjorie and

his mother. Gifts, too, but gifts were secondary to

letters !
250 HELL S PLAYGROUND
i .

Sadler was striking the torpedo gong, and its melo

dious notes were dying away when Ngumbe cried:
" "

Master, Nigeria live !

The Nigeria had scarce cast anchor when the three

English exiles were up one of her ladders.
Oh, ho, me lads, you ve come for your Christmas
"

gifts. Well, I sorry for ye. m

They re entrusted to
the French government and it s at the post office ye ll
have to get them."
Skipper Hains was in fresh white, brown and healthy
and active.
His little blue eyes didn t appear to see anything, but
nothing missed them. Anxiously he had watched Hunt
ingdon climb the ship s side. He wondered what he d
read in the lad s face. The old truth and candor were
there, if the color was missing. But he was fit, unusu
ally fit for Africa.
Plains ordered champagne with a high hand and
with plenty of ice, too.

Ah, me lads, here s to us all together once again

"

and to-day s Christmas. Diwil a bit ye d ken it was

Christmas didn t the calendar tell us so. It s cold and
snows and mistletoe he began, but suddenly he
changed his tactics.
"

And it s well ye re all looking.

Ah, ye can t beat the British -

ner the Irish. We
keep our feast days no matter where we be nor what
divvils threaten us."

He managed to draw Sadler aside.

Me
"

he whispered, what time

lad,"
"

s the feast? "

Indeed, I don t know, Skipper

" "

"

Hould yer toush now, but be after soundin Mr.

s
Huntingdon boy."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 251

"

If it s about grub, Skipper, save your chef. Hunt

ingdon s
got a barbecue on big enough to feed a whole
army of fasting blue jackets."
Has he now? Well, be a good
"

lad and run along

and find out the hour for the feast."

"

One o
Sadler reported in a little while, after
clock,"

having secretly consulted Ngumbe, who attended his

master.
"

I hear it s a foine mansion ye builded out here, Mr.

Huntingdon," said Skipper Hains. His tones were
noticeably Irish. They were always so when he was
happiest.
Yes, I ve been fixing up a bit making myself com
"

fortable two years and a half more to put in, you

know. Might as well get the best there is."

"

Ye re right, me lad, and it keeps you

"

he was
going say to he added,
"

out of mischief," instead

from thinking about the time ahead of ye yet to be
"

served. Yes, I heard about the grandeur of your place

away north in Sierra Leone."

"Yes?"

"

It s the gossip of the country "

and so are you

the skipper might have added, but he didn t.
"

Well,
come on, thin, show me this
grand place. It s improve
ments I love to look at. Arrah, we had a divvil of a
voyage out. Stiff est crowd ye ever knew. Governors
and lords and creatures like that done up in rigimintals
and There was no mistaking the contempt in
spurs."

the skipper Ah, here are me officers now.

"

tones. s

All hands bound for John Holt s descend to the surf

boats And, Sampson, be after tinding to all me com
!

mands," and in the Kru s ear he whispered: "

Tell the
252 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Chief Steward to have everything at Mr. Huntingdon s
"

by high noon, savvy?

"

I savvy, Captain."

The skipper s keen eyes took in every detail of Hunt

ingdon transformed bungalow. His greatest delight
s

was that it contained no hint of woman.

Gifts and letters were many for Huntingdon. Old
Wallace, Haywood, Longworthy and Cartwright wrote.
With the exception of fever, all were as well as could be
expected.
Neither Sadler nor Moore received any gifts from
civilization, but Huntingdon had something for all of
his guests :
nargilehs, Turkish tobacco, and cigarettes
and jars of candied ginger.
Is it a gurrl ye think Oi
"

am," demanded Skipper

Hains, as he placed the ginger by for safe keeping.
"

Ah, thin, it s a confession Oi be after making it s

ll :

a swate tooth Oi have in me ould head and more n wan

av thim."

s happiness, but none

His brogue denoted the skipper
of the other white men appeared to notice it.
Moore s gift to Huntingdon was an ancient staff of
ebony carved with crocodiles, snakes, bats and butterflies.
Attended by an armed Senegalese tirrailleur and a
smallboy, the Douane came, in spotless white and hung
with medals.
The Creole was debonnaire and graceful, despite the
soft fat on his bones.
Hains had no liking for dark-skinned foreigners, all
of whom he dubbed half-breeds. He loved the French
least of all his Irish honesty and candor could not
;

tolerate their surface politeness and inward treachery.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 253

Douanes he knew only as skunks who pounced on every

parcel of importation for the bit of commission in it.

They were some of the scorpions of the coast he avoided

assiduously.
But Skipper Hains was just. In the Douane he rec

ognized a gentleman : a proper companion for his be

loved Huntingdon.
The Douane s gift to Huntingdon was a very old na
tive knife. The wooden handle was roughly carved to
imitate a snake, and from its open mouth the blade
protruded. was two-edged and shaped like a scythe.
It

Besides the food provided by Huntingdon, the skip

per s
gifts were two convasback ducks a guinea pig
;

stuffed with apples and chestnuts ; Yorkshire pudding ;

TenerifFe wine ; French champagne, and a cask of Eng

lish ale.

From Lady Huntingdon and Marjorie came plum

pudding, nuts and sweets, and pretty trifles made by
them. The latter Huntingdon carefully packed away ;

they had no place that rough environment.

in

The feast lasted from one o clock until seven.

Healths were drunk to everybody to England to the :
;

King and the Queen to mothers and sweethearts, sisters

;

and brothers !

Oh, there was a hilarious time !

Hilarious, because
silencemight creep in, and tears might flow, and tears
would never do at a Christmas feast ; oh, no !

"

Mr. Skipper Hains," cried Huntingdon,

"

you ve
forgotten something."
"

And have I now? "

questioned the skipper.

"

Mistletoe, English mistletoe," up

spoke Sadler.
"

That s what he forgot, isn t it, Huntingdon?

"
254 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Before Huntingdon had time to answer, the skipper
remarked :

If it s your eyes ye d be using more and

"

less your
tongues, ye might be after seeing somewhat."
The skipper s eyes were deep in an ebony tankard
of ale. But Huntingdon discovered the mistletoe with
itswaven blooms hanging from the long beak of a crane
suspended low from the ceiling right over the table.
Huntingdon couldn t speak. Twas the first Christ
mas he had ever spent away from home. They were
missing him there, too
The skipper s tones were unusually blustering as he
bellowed :

"

And don t be a-thankin me. It s the Lady Mar-

jorie that did it. Ye ve been telling things on me to
her, Mr. Huntingdon, and she s been a-writing to me,
and she came all the way to Liverpool, and the Earl, her
father. Sez she to me arrah, me lad, but she has
the bonny brown eyes, and thered, kissing lips, and the
beauteous red hair red and a-rippling and astray
like the Irish colleens only she s not got the freckles.
Thinks me when she looked up into me sea-dimmed
sel

eyes with her shining bright ones, my, thinks Oi, if there
was only a freckle, just one on the end of your pretty,
saucy nose, arrah, what was it, lad, Oi set out to say?
Oh, yes. Captain Hains
Sez she :Oi say, Mr.
Huntingdon, I m
after thinking that thim mermaids that

hypnotized Ulysses, ye savvy the skipper ye told me

of on your way out, who went a-sailing over strange
seas after getting loose from hell, thim mermaids
voices must have been something loike the Lady Mar-
j orie s Arrah, it s
crazy Oi m going from the heat
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 255

for to the end of me yarn Oi ll nivir come. Sez the

Lady Marjorie Captain Hains
to me:and nivir
will Oi forget that voice nor the lovelight in her eyes

sez she :
Captain Hains, Oi know Oi can trust this
package to His Majesty s Mails as Oi ve trusted
manny a token before now, but here s a parcel Oi d
s

likeye to deliver with your own hands to to

what the divvil it was she called ye not the Honor
able, nor the Mister ah, yes, twas Cecil and the
way she said it, arrah it s forgetting Oi am what
the lady said, but sez she : After Cecil s opened his
gifts sent in charge of his Majesty s mails, Oi d like
ye to do me the favor to open this parcel. The mistle
toe, please, hang over his table ; put it in the mouth of
one of those white birds he wrote about as if the
bird was after flying from me to him, and this, you re
to lay this in his hand now what the divvil was it
she said the skipper stopped abruptly and from his
,"

pocket he pulled a sprig of rosemary and laid

-
it in

Huntingdon s hand.
Arrah, arrah, an what was the
"

it the Lady said,"

skipper stopped again, affecting to be puzzled and filling

up the gap to let Huntingdon get his feelings under
Ah, I ve got it it s befuddled me brain is
"

control.
from domned nigger heat," and the skipper s words
this

were never broader nor more Irish as he ended lightly,

Sez the Lady Marjorie to me:
"

yet seriously: It s

rosemary, and it s for remimbrance. Ye bull-headed,

Capstan," he suddenly shouted at little Sadler,
"

how s

the sailing?
"

Crocs, yes?
"

And river horses," answered Sadler, trying his best

to keep back tears.

256
"

Ain tye got a blunderbuss or a Brown-bess handy,

or can ye use one? I say, Moore, how s the ladies?
"

Moore was also looking down his nose, but such a

question never failed to arouse him.

That s my affair," he bridled, but little Sadler com
"

menced to sing:

My Bonnie lies over the ocean,

My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me.

The others joined in, and the rafters fairly rang with
the chorus to the delight of the servants and passing
natives.
The black heads peering in at the door reminded the
skipper of something.
"

Mr. Mellon," Skipper Hains cried, addressing his

first officer.
"

Ye saw to the rum and the tobacco for

the boys."

Aye, aye, captain. They re stowed away

"

in Mr.
Huntingdon s bedroom for safe keeping."
"

Two hands for ard," roared the skipper.

Ogula and Nkombi Kakhi stepped briskly into the
room.
"

Show em where the stuff lies, Mr. Mellon, and let

them be off wit it. Ye won t be needing them again
the day, Mr. Huntingdon ? "

All can go, save Ngumbe and

"

Mbega," Huntingdon
answered.
After the plum pudding, blazing with rum, coffee and
cigars were served, Sadler said:
I ll be boy from now on, Huntingdon
"

Nothing to !

do but serve up wet drinks. Let Ngumbe and Mbega

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 257

go with the rest of the gang. Christmas like this comes

only once in a lifetime with these beggars. Let em
eat and drink until they get the bellyache."
Thus midst raillery and mockery and devil-may-carity
and pathos and a tacit shunning of reminiscences the
Christmas feast was enjo} ed. r

Oi say, Mr. Huntingdon," cried Skipper Hains,

"

where s that game of bridge Oi ve been after promis

"

ing me sel? It s not a dacent game Oi ve had since ye

voyaged out wit me."

Two tables were arranged, the winning partners

changing after each rubber. After a time, the others
tiredand dropped out leaving the Douane, Huntingdon,
Dr. Young and Hains, four matched players.
Play had been for a halfpenny the point, and gains
and losses on either side had been small.
Young proposed twopence the point, and the others

agreed.
It was decided to play pivot.
They cut.
Hains was pivot. Partners were to change after
each rubber.
The scores were high. No trumpers and royal spades
predominated.
Then an interesting hand was played.
The Douane was dealing Hains was his partner and ;

dummy.
The Douane bridged it.

Hains declared:
"

No trump !
"

Huntingdon promptly doubled. He was to the left

of the Douane and it was his first

play.
258 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Hains redoubled.
Huntingdon came back.
Hains was satisfied.
To the surprise of all, the Douane redoubled.

Huntingdon was content.

Hains rapidly computed:
12, 24, 48, 96, 192 times tuppence makes 65s. 6d.
"

a trick for the winner. Capstans and halyards Now !

me noble partner, play as though the divvil had us both

by the heels awaiting to clean us out. It s a fine hand
I have for ye, except two suits, and if ye can control
them, being s ye doubled when the palaver seemed
set, then extra fizz water for all hands round and the
winnings to ourselves. Go on, Mr. Huntingdon, lead,
*
and may the divvil take ye.

Huntingdon lead a small club, proclaiming his suit

to be clubs.
The skipper laid down his hand.
There wasn t There were three diamonds,
one club!
queen high; seven spades, ace, then jack; and of
hearts, ace, king and ten.
Twas
really a royal spade hand, but the skipper was
a sport and he had faith in the Douane.
If ye can get them spades a-working, partner," he
"

then we re good for the odd. If we can we pay

"

said, t

the damage. Cast off !

"

That was the last word spoken during the hand.

On Huntingdon s lead of the four of clubs, the
Douane discarded a diamond from the dummy.
Dr. Young, Huntingdon s partner, played the ace of
clubs and the Douane played the three.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 259

Dr. Young came back with the five of clubs.

The Douane s play was eagerly awaited. Everybody
knew clubs were Huntingdon s suit and he likely held the
king.
The Douane s movements were always slow, but now

languor seemed to envelop him completely.

He laid down his cards and begged permission to

light a cigarette.
He puffed at it slowly, one, two, three times !

The Englishmen were on nettles, the skipper partic

ularly so. He couldn t mask his impatience. He stood

up, stretched himself, then sat down again.
Languidly, the Douane resumed his cards, and his
white jeweled hand laid down the king of clubs.
Of course he would lead a spade so the others

thought.
Instead he lead the ace of diamonds, and from
thedummy he followed suit with the seven of diamonds.
He would surely lead a spade now.
He didn t. He laid down a small heart.
Huntingdon covered it with the seven spot.
The others expected the Douane to come in with the
ace or king from the dummy.

Again the Douane was provokingly slow. Again he

puffed at his cigarette. Hains feet were twitching
nervously, Young was noticeably agitated, and Hunt
ingdon s brows were drawn.
Then slowly, slowly from the dummy, the Douane
pulled out the ten of hearts!
Dr. Young played the eight. It was the highest one
he had !
260 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Twas the dummy s lead.
The Douane played more briskly now.
He pulled out the ace of hearts and from his own
hand discarded a diamond, proclaiming that the heart
he lead was the only one he had.
From the dummy he next lead the king of hearts.
Huntingdon s
only hope now lay in his partner s hav
ing the king of spades guarded and coming back with
a club or a diamond.
Again it was the dummy s lead, and there was nothing
left but spades.
Huntingdon bent over the table.
The skipper blue eyes were almost masked by
s little

their lids as though he were gazing into thick space.

Dr. Young pushed his cards closer, his eyes on the
dummy.
The skipper and Huntingdon were in suspense to see

Young s play, and Young to see Huntingdon s. The

lattermust have doubled on something worth while. As
he didn t have aces he must have guarded kings and

queens. Young was confident Huntingdon had the king

of spades, and the skipper and Huntingdon were confi
dent that Young held it.
Slowly from the dummy the Douane pulled the ace of
spades. Dr. Young played a spot so did the Douane
;

and Huntingdon.
Again the Douane was compelled to lead from the
dummy.
He led the eight of spades.
Now was the critical moment.
The silence was tense.
It was Dr. Young who seemed slow.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 261

He played the queen, the only one he had left;

his suit was diamonds. The Douane covered it with
the king; Huntingdon discarded a diamond. Then the
Douane lead a spade; jack, dummy took it, and the re
maining spade was good.
dummy
"

baby A shouted the Skipper leaning over and

slam,"

ringing the Douane s hand. It s a Gineral and an

"

Irishman ye ought to be, instid of he caught himself "

in time he was going to say half-breed. Arrah,

"

let s see now how much we re to the 6 tricks.

good.
Six times 192 for each trick equals 1152. Add 30 for
aces and 12 for the baby slam makes 1194 @ tuppence.
Whew! 4776d or 398s, or
19 18s, for each of us,
Monsieur Douane. If the Irish had such luck, they d
be owning England and free-ruling thimselves !
"

Bridge was Skipper Hains ruling passion and he

loved no one so much as a good player. He forgot that
the Douane was one of the coast skunks whom he so
cordially hated and for the first time in his life, he
pressed a half-breed, a detested Frenchman to dine with
him aboard the Nigeria on her next voyage. The
pleasure could not be his now, because the Nigeria was
to steam away with the dawn.
But the Douane sincerely regretted his inability to ac
cept the invitation. In two months his term expired and
he expected to at once return to Martinique.
In the name of chance, what did you double and
"

redouble on, Mr. Huntingdon ? cried Dr. Young.

"

I had seven clubs up to the queen king, queen, and

"

jack of diamonds; the queen and tray of hearts. One

spade. Twas my lead. I played you for something.
I thought it was easy sailing when you took my first
 262 HELL S PLAYGROUND
trick with the ace of clubs and came back with a spot,
but the Douane and not you held the king. Who ever
dreamed that you wouldn t hold an ace, the dummy
would have no club, and my clubs and diamond suits

would be killed right off the reel. I say, Monsieur le

Douane, why did you play your ten instead of your king
or ace of hearts ? "

"

You Douane,
doubled," and I
answered the "

reasoned if my ten went through, we would make a little

slam. The stakes were high and worth going for."
gwan, quit holding post mortems," roared
"

Ah,
Skipper Hains. Whew That s the most excitement
"

I ve had in a long run, and tis the best hand I ve seen

played in some time. I ll set up the fizz water just for

the excitement and pleasure it s been to me."

"

Oh, no, Skipper," remonstrated Huntingdon.

"

Fizz water s on me you re a winner."

More reason for me setting it up. Annyhow, it s

"

extra pleasure ye d be giving me ould Irish heart. It s

midnight, time to turn in, and ye wouldn t want to be a

the fine day I ve had, would ye now, me lad?
"

spoilin
There was no resisting the skipper s Irish reasoning.
He set up the wine.
At daybreak, the Nigeria steamed away.
New Year s day, the Douane entertained.
Every
white man in Cape Lopez was and made merry.
invited
It was another divine day, just as Christmas had been.
The two months and a half of rain seemed to have
washed Africa clean of her stains and menaces.
The bush was
beautiful in luxurious growth and color

ing; the sands of the beach were packed hard; walking

infinitely easier and very pleasant; the moist earth

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 263

slacked the suns thirst sea breezes tempered the heat

; ;

humidity was absent, breathing was a joy.

The temperamental white men responded to Nature s
merry mood and good fellowship reigned. They parted
in the best of spirits, each wishing the other good luck
and health. Huntingdon hoped that such good fellow
ship would continue. Monotony would then lose its

horror, and companionship, the beloved of exiles, would

make life tolerable.
But Africa entices, only to torture the more.
The next day Cape Lopez was startled by the death
of the Douane from dysentery !

Sadler and Huntingdon were the only mourners. The

other white men were again deep in Africa s clutch.

Again a grave on the wind-swept beach was dug and

another white alien slept the sleep that knows no awaken
ing; o erhead the palms sighed mournfully, and on the
beach the sea beat a monotonous tattoo.
Sadler returned to Lambarene and Huntingdon was
alone.
The next week brought the tornadoes. Rains lashed
the earth thunder reverberated through the heavens
; ;

lightning blasted and devastated; humidity like a wet

blanket smothered all things and man s endurance was
taxed to the utmost Oh, how Huntingdon missed the
!

Douane! There was no one to whom he could talk of

Marjorie no one to comfort and console him no one to
; ;

whom he could give his confidence. It was the greatest

loss he had yd suffered he brooded upon it he cursed
; ;

Africa and drank deeply.

 CHAPTER XVII

WHEN the first week in March arrived and the rains

continued, Huntingdon was pretty well tired of his
still

own society, of incessant work and lack of exercise.

Great then was his joy when Ngumbe reported that
Monsieur and Madame Leon, the missionaries whose com
ing had been gossiped about on Huntingdon s arrival
at Cape Lopez, were settled at the Rest House for an
indefinite stay.

Showing his contempt for gossip, Huntingdon pre

ceded his callupon the missionaries by sending fresh
meat killed by Ogula and some dainty edibles prepared
by Makaya.
Accustomed to the smoothly shaven, immaculately
clean High-Church prelates of Europe, Huntingdon was
taken aback by the bearded, uncouth appearance of the
3 oung missionary. He wore a native-made khaki suit,
the trousers of which were too short and the coat too
small ;
he did in truth look like a scarecrow, as little

Sadler had said.

But in Madame Leon Huntingdon found a charming
woman, shy and retiring, with a spirituelle face and very
sad, expressive brown eyes. It was quite apparent that
she and her husband were both too young and of insuf
ficient experience for missionary work in such a field as

Africa. After the first discussion of religion, Hunting-

SB^
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 265

don avoided the subject. He and Leon were of diverse

opinions, and Madame, of course, agreed with her hus
band.
Tea and biscuits were served, and a delightful, relax
ing hour was passed.
Madame Leon was the first white woman with whom
Huntingdon talked since he left Europe. She was a
breath from civilization. Her presence would
help him
fight the desires of the flesh rising strong within him.
For the first time in his life he recognized fully all a
refined white woman means to a man !

He begged permission to call again.

Madame glanced timidly at her husband.
He was silent.
Traders and missionaries never came together save to
clash: the latter to remonstrate against the corruption
and theft of native women the former to send the mis
;

sionaries to hell and damnation for interfering with the

white man s only diversion and pleasure.
M
We are always at home, sieu Huntingdon," Leon
"

finally said.
"

We shall be glad to receive you."

Huntingdon pleasure was great.

s

He expressed his thanks, and kissed Madame s hand

at parting.
The servants of the missionaries were young boys
just beginning their training. Their cooking and other
services were of the worst caliber hence Huntingdon ;

took keen joy in keeping the missionaries supplied with

choice confections made by Makaya and game of all
sorts killed by Ogula.
With the Douane s death Huntingdon s
vegetables
stopped. Now he longed for them for the gentle white
266 HELL S PLAYGROUND
woman s sake, and he determined to have a garden of
his own as soon as the rains ceased.
At first Huntingdon dropped in to tea only every
other day then he went every day. ;He looked eagerly
forward to the four o clock hour ;
it was a break in the

deadly monotony ; something to dress for. Tea and

biscuits were daintily served ; the conversation was
varied and refined and a refreshing, civi Madame was
lized breath which robbed the present of its keenest

torture.

Gradually Madame Leon lost her shyness. She was

intelligent, well read and traveled. She had been a
teacher of languages in Switzerland, and she spoke
French, German and English but her husband spoke
only French.
She told Huntingdon something of her duties at the
little mission station in the bush beyond Lambarene.

Every morning and night there were church services on ;

week-day mornings church was followed by an hour spent

in the hospital where the natives were treated for all

sorts of ailments ; then school followed. Hymnals,

Bibles and books were printed in the native dialects ; girls
were taught such simple domestic science as was neces
sary to healthy, moral living ; boys were taught tailoring,
carpenter work and wood carving. Madame was the
overseer of her own little household. Her servants were

young mission boys.

Wouldn t you find
"

it easier to teach the women

household work and wouldn t you rather have them about
"

you? Huntingdon asked.

"

Strange to say, M sieu Huntingdon," Madame re

plied,
"

the native girls are more stupid than the boys

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 267

about household matters, but the main reason for not

having them as servants is because every one of
them is a wife and her husband or owner will not trust
her to work for the white man." A flush overspread
Madame s pale face and Huntingdon, comprehending
the reason for it, hastily asked :

"

But you must find the life monotonous, the work

tedious? "

"

I would not mind it if the white men would let my

girls alone. But they are always
stealing them."
She lowered her eyes to the lint she was cutting. But
not quickly enough. Huntingdon sensed her existence:
perpetual service, perpetual sameness, perpetual ingrati
tude What a life for a young, sensitive, refined white
!

woman !

Her place was in the light, the joy, the change of

the world, with a mate of her own standing, not the
inferior creature to whom the Church had tied her.

Sympathy for her welled strong in Huntingdon. He

did his best to ease her lot. He kept her in reading
matter and Makaya continued to concoct delicacies for
her.

Huntingdon was anxious for Madame to see his liv

ing quarters, and after many invitations, Madame and
her husband honored him with a call. Great indeed
was his pleasure, and great were Madame s surprise and
delight at the beauty and comfort of his bungalow.
Huntingdon offered to move out and give the mission
aries possession, but they protested; they were inured
to hardships ; they did not expect luxuries and com
fort in the service of the Lord ; they were content as
they were.
268 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon showed Madame Marjorie s picture, and
told her of his betrothal.

Long and silently Madame studied the photograph,

then, she said, plaintively :

A
sweet face
"

and a noble one. Be true to her, go

back and marry her, but never bring her out here !
"

It was the nearest regret to which she ever gave expres

sion, and strange to relate it was made to a man other

than her husband! Huntingdon, the gentleman, the
man of honor, understood, and this slight confidence and
great understanding drew closer together those sensitive,
impressionable exiles born of the same race and endowed
with the same fine sensibilities.

Huntingdon was happier than he had been for many

a day. He had the sympathetic companionship of a
refined white woman no more would
;
he be lonesome, and,
to show his appreciation, unknown to Madame he had
cases of delicate canned foods sent to Lambarene to

greet her on her return.

But, alas, pleasures never last especially in Africa !

A few days later Huntingdon was taking his usual

after-luncheon siesta on the veranda, invisible to out

prying eyes.

Ngumbe and another native were conversing outside.

King Huntingdon be sweetheart to mission woman.
"

That s why him never take native woman for wife !

"

said the strange native.

Huntingdon was horrified !

There was only one thing for him to do :

give up his

daily tea at the Rest House; give up his companionship

with Madame!
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 269

And they meant so much to him !

They were the only
diversion in corrodingmonotony the only relief from

work, heat, moisture and insects !

But no matter what the cost to him, he could not have

a white woman slandered !

He cursed the natives, and remembered Wallace s

blasphemy at the ear-splitting gossip of the coast. The

old coasterknew whereof he spoke.
Doubtless the tale first came from a white man from :

Moore, or LeBlanc. They were both so determined that

he would become as they. But he d show them !

Aside from his promise to Marjorie, as was the way

with themen of his race, attempt to force a thing upon
them, and they would rather die than yield even

though that thing were for their best good !

When and Huntingdon failed to

several days passed
call at the Rest House, Monsieur Leon sent to inquire if
he were ill?

No ! He was usually busy with the mails for the next

European steamer.

Again, that his incoming cargo was so large that he

was busy checking it off.
Again, that he had the fever.
His heart smote him for the latter deception when a
dainty blanc-mange and tiny swcetcakes came from
Madame.
I made them
"
"

myself,"
she wrote. I hope you will

enjoy them. We miss you and hope you will soon be

wellenough to come again, as usual."
As usual! So she missed him too. For the first time
in his life rage against his fellow man boiled within him ;
270 HELL S PLAYGROUND
murder was in his heart, and he consigned the white
men of Cape Lopez to the lowest depths of blazing
hell!
He took a great draught of absinthe, then, deliber

ately he passed the Rest House and called on Moore

next door.
With Moore he sat on the veranda until long after

nightfall drinking and laughing, when LeBlanc, Wild-

man, and the Chef de Paste came and drinking and
gambling went on all night.
Madame was on the veranda when he passed in the

morning.
He hoped she would not notice him.
She bowed gracefully. But she did not smile.
She was unusually pale and great rings were under
her eyes.

Again Huntingdon cursed men, himself included

all

then was glad that for a woman s sake he had the

courage to be cruel !

But it was not done without great effort. He had to

fight selfishness he meant no harm to the woman

he wanted only her companionship, the pleasure of
afternoon tea the break in eternal sameness Why !

shouldn he enjoy them!

t She would never get to hear
the gossip about her. If she did, hadn t she been igno-

miniously slandered before he had ever set eyes on her?

But the men of his women and
race ever honored

protected them. He
down selfishness
beat and beat
Ngumbe and Mbega too. Twas the first time he ever
laid violent hands on any human thing!
He was ashamed, too, but his passions must have some
outlet !
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 271

The brake of self-control could not forever curb.

Shortly afterwards, the missionaries returned to Lam-
barene and from Monsieur Leon there came a stiff,

yet polite note, thanking Huntingdon for the cases of

goods he had sent, and expressing the hope that all was
well with him.
 CHAPTER XVIII

HUNTINGDON left John Holt s employ exactly one

year and two weeks after entering it. The two weeks
were given to breaking in his successor, a white man
from Gaboon.
Huntingdon s new factory was the most modern and
healthy It was of one story well raised
in the country. ;

from the ground, with a cement floor, and plenty of

windows and ventilation. The selling space in front
was modern in every respect ;
the warehouse behind was

spacious special precautions were taken to protect mer

;

chandise from white ants, and a burglar alarm was con

nected with the new bungalow.
Both bungalow and factory were situated on the beach
just north of John Holt s.
Goods were imported direct from Europe, and con
sisted only of those things which appealed directly to the
natives. There were no hand sewing machines without
needles ;
no jewelry that turned green at the first breath
of the sea ;
no
stockings for legs that never wore
silk

any sort of stockings no junk scorned by the civilized

;

and supposed to be good enough for the savage.

Jewelry was of good plate there were many ; different
kinds of cloth, beads, mirrors, pomades, belts, knives,

soaps, rum and other liquors, trade guns and powder,

tobacco, crockery, enameled tins, parasols, umbrellas,
straw hats, broad-rimmed felt hats, helmets, suits of
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 273

khaki and of white drill of graduated sizes, gaudy silk

handkerchiefs, sardines, salt, rice and dried vegetables.

The bungalow was the result of years of experience
and study on the part of the French fathers.
Floors were cement ; Avails and high ceilings were pan
eled with polished, roseate mahogany windows were ;

large with well-fitting shutters verandas were

; deep and
spacious and like the interior finished with mahogany
and cement, and well screened and shuttered. The gal
ley was a sanitary, up-to-date, civilized kitchen, with an
iron cook stove imported from Europe.
The plan of the bungalow was the same as Holt s :

the living-room in the center, with the bedrooms leading

off either side. The furniture occupied the same rel
ative positions in the new bungalow as it did in the old.
The bedrooms were roomy, cool and rest-inviting, while
the great center room was more effective than ever, en
hanced by the cement floor and the paneled walls and
ceiling.

Huntingdon s home was complete and beautiful. He

was as proud of it as though he were a bride.

Wallace, Longworthy, Haywood, Cartwright and

Skipper Hains, with whom Huntingdon kept up a reg
ular correspondence, cabled their congratulations ; so
did Lord and Lady Bedford, Marjorie, and a host of
friends. John Holt especially wished his competitor
good luck. He was sorry to lose Huntingdon, but from
the beginning he knew Huntingdon s plans then, too, ;

it is a truism: that which we desire to keep, gets away;

that which we would lose, hangs on.

The local traders were loud in their praise of the new
factory and the bungalow. They railed against their
274, HELL S PLAYGROUND
respective employers for compelling them to remain in

unhealthy factories and bungalows. They agreed to

send protests to home offices and demand better things
which they never did !

Sadler brought down all the English traders in the

Ogowe who could steal away for a few days.
The little fellow was happy because Huntingdon had
emerged from servitude and was going it alone.

Huntingdon also rejoiced that the worst of his exile

was over.
He was now his own master, free to trade how and
where he listed.

In his factory were two innovations he catered only ;

to natives he traded both for cash and products.

; Other
factories traded for cash only over the counter and
made a bid for the white man s trade.

Mbega, impossible as a liouseboy, became an efficient

shopboy. He had learned rapidly from Itula. To
the latter s envy when Mbega, not he, was given charge
of the new factory.
Itula was sure he was going, but Huntingdon would
not rob any person of a good servant. The other white
men said that he was a fool for not helping himself to
all he could get.

Mbega had grown and developed wonderfully in the

past year. He wore a well-fitting suit of khaki and

threatened to surpass Ngumbe in style and appear
ance. He was very proud of the confidence reposed in
him by the Great White King and he became a veritable
watchdog for his master; Ogula, the shootman, was
also attentive and faithful and, while Ngumbe and
;

Makaya continued to serve well, it was solely because

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 275

of their pride in working for such a famous master and

for the good wages he paid.
From the beginning the better part of the trade of

Cape Lopez was Huntingdon s. He did not undersell

his competitors, nor did he offer any greater induce
ments to the natives. He did a clean-cut, straightfor
ward business ; his name was synonymous with square
dealing.
But it took great patience !

Although the natives know well enough what their

products are worth, haggling is a fine art with them, and
time is their
greatest asset. They never hurry, nor
can they understand why the all-powerful white man
should hurry. They go from factory to factory and
generally end by trading at the first place visited by
them.
Time sped, for it was the dry season.
Again the Nigeria and the Dwarf came. Skipper
Hains continued to rejoice that no black woman appeared
on Huntingdon s horizon and together he and Hunting
don longed for the Nigeria s next call, when she would
take away Huntingdon s first shipment of logs.
The Dwarf revived the hunt and lavish entertainments,
inwhich Huntingdon again took the lead. The year in
Hells
Playground did not seem to leave any mark on
Huntingdon and Bouchard Avas glad to pay his bet.
Everybody got proper drunk, Huntingdon included;
again the fun was fast and furious and Huntingdon
remained until the end. He lived the same lives as the
other white men, with one exception and that a great
one: he persisted in his refusal to take a native wife.
Hence many an hour he was left to himself and in his
276 HELL S PLAYGROUND
own society he did not always find amusement. How
ever,when October found Cape Lopez again settled down
to weary monotony, Huntingdon set out for the
its

main Ogowe to make a personal appeal for trade. He

was amazed at the great wealth to be had simply for
the plucking. He determined to exert every effort to
obtain it work would not only bring him surcease from
;

the annihilating present, but it would bring Marjorie

nearer. The more Africa combated him, the more de
termined was he to conquer.
For the first time he rejoiced in the fame that was his
as the Great White King. He recognized the power it
gave him over the natives. He used that power to its
utmost capacity.
He was universally received with marked hospitality
and rejoicing, and he was surprised at the number of
natives who spoke English.
Old chiefs regaled him with tales about the first white
traders who had come amongst them. Shriveled up old

hags were proudly brought forth and exhibited either

as their wives or daughters. Everywhere was good will
shown him, and promises were made to send him great
quantities of rubber, ivory, timber, etc.
The greatest honor possible was thrust upon him he;

was asked to judge tribal palavers that had endured for

years.
He patiently listened to both sides of the argument,
and his decisions were warranted by the facts ; sentiment
played no part therein.
From restricted trade districts natives came in delega
tions and begged the Great White King to bring back
the English, which was but another name for open trade.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 277

At Huntingdon visited towns in the re

their request
stricted districts, and he saw for himself the things com

plained of by Smithson and the natives.

Many towns were abandoned others had been so many
;

times raided by the Commandants in search of impot

that they were but dust heaps of ruins and poverty.

Trading posts, long regarded as fixtures and about

which towns were built and plantations cultivated, were
no more. Whole communities were scattered and de
stroyed. Great plains which for upwards of fifty years
swarmed with life and the bustle of passing trade

caravans, were silent and deserted ant-hills and arid

;

grass and wind-swept paths were the only signs of life

upon them.
Priceless timbers, rubber, and other valuable commod
ities were rotting
vast belts of the rich equatorial
in

forests. longer No
did heavily laden canoes pass to
and fro upon the many rivers no longer did the song of
;

the happy paddlers echo from shore to shore.

Towns of which they told tales of great trading done
and of loves and hates outrivaling the most interest
ing fiction, were but a few ragged plantain trees, dis
consolate and bowed to the earth as the very natives
themselves.
Old men and old women, once a power unto themselves,
who lived before the first white man came amongst them
and who later enjoyed the things he brought, united in
one long wail against the destruction that had come upon
them wrought by the greed of the French Government !

Everywhere the same cry was heard:

O Great White King, give us the English back be
"

fore it is too late, too late! Tell your country how the
278 HELL S PLAYGROUND
French rob and crush us. What aliens we are in the
lands of our fathers. No longer is there any freedom,

any caste among us. Free men are reduced to states

worse than that of wild beasts. Beasts have a lair in

which they find safety. But sooner or later the French

get us and we are imprisoned, degraded, because we
have no products to market and no market in which
to exchange them at an equitable price e en though

we do harvest our own products for the concession

"

aires!
The concessionaires complained to Huntingdon that
the natives were but lazy dogs who would not gather
rubber, nor cut timber, and who ought to be chicotted
into submission !

The concessionaires forgot that for over one-half a

century the lazy dogs were content with a bone the

biggest share is always the white man s. But, now,

instead of the bones, the natives were expected to come
forward and receive a kick for their pains Savage !

though they were, they had intelligence enough to keep

at a safe distance from the kick.
With derision they looked upon the ragged, insect-
eaten tobacco sold them at an exorbitant price and spoke
of the broad, clean, whole-leafed Virginia tobacco of
open trade days. The narrow, thin, unwashable French
cottons they disdained and pointed with pride to an old,

yet still wearable, print of the British or the Germans.

The rice sold to them was but husks and dust the ;

rum the vile wood alcohol of commerce, more poisonous

than any concoction brewed by themselves. Men and
women and children went down under it daily.
Huntingdon knew that all colonization smells more or
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 279

less of freebootery, piracy, but where such methods

defeat the purpose in view, why continue them ? France

outraged all the laws of hospitality. She destroyed
where she ought to protect.
The news of the coming of a Commandant caused a
general exodus to the bush, for in their respective dis
tricts commandants wield a one-man power, despotic

beyond conception. If taxes were not forthcoming, men

were tied up, women and children outraged, and every
available thing carried away by the black soldiers who
loved to pillage and destroy. For no tyranny so great
as that practiced by one savage over another.
The enmity of the government and the traders also
extended to the missions, for this reason so dependent
:

had the natives become upon the white man that their
own industries were neglected very, very little native
;

cloth was woven ;

ironwork was almost a lost art ; the
natives never did grow tobacco, and the government
forbade their making salt, although the broad Atlantic
washes their shores. Hence, treated unjustly by gov
ernment and traders, the natives flocked to the missions.
Even the most superstitious and degraded of them had
to seek the men of God palaver. They brought their

products for exchange whenever they could steal prod

ucts from the concessions they clamored for work.
Prosperity came to the missions and their profits were
not sent to Europe, but were used locally, for the de
velopment of mission plantations and schools and the
betterment of the native.
The traders complained to the government that the
missionshad no license to engage in trade and the gov
ernment must forbid them to do so! France heeded
280 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the cry of the traders by issuing an order that all trade
must be for cash! Another long-rooted custom uprooted
at a stroke ! From time out of mind exchange was the
order of trade, and where were the natives to get cash?

They not only had no products to market but no com

petitive market to trade in and they continued in their
refusal to work for their oppressors. Consequently,
missions had to close their factories to the natives, and
the natives, not appreciating the position of the mis
sions, classed them among their enemies. Undone in
an instance was the good accomplished by the missions
in the halfcentury or more of their hard labor !

With tears in their eyes the good fathers at the Mis

sion of Salute Anne
Fernand-Vaz complained of
in the

these things to Huntingdon, and in native towns, the

natives themselves told him that missions also make

fight-palaver for black man! The missions had no

laborers to work their plantations, they could not grow
sufficient foods to feed the mouths of the converts de

pendent upon them, they were handicapped and harassed

on every side Formerly the government paid them a
!

yearly sum towards their work, but as the government

grew poorer because of its own short-sighted acts, that

stipend was withdrawn, and the missions thrown wholly
on their own resources had not the wherewith to go on !

France boasts of liberte, egalite et fraternite! Bond

age is
by no means the most depressing condition in the
world. Robbery, pillage and degradation and the doing
away of old-established customs long enjoyed are far
worse.
Under native laws many slaves were richer than their
masters. They owned and accumulated property.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 281

They were allowed to travel to different parts of the

country, to cut timber, gather rubber, etc. But France

treated free-born natives worse than the natives ever

thought of treating their vilest slaves. They could

not go from one district to another without the written
consent of the Commandant!
Chiefs and other free men were no longer the heads of
own households and a power unto themselves.
their

Many of them had no households at all. Their towns

were looted ; destroyed ; sons, kinsmen, retainers suc
cumbed to the intruder, or else had run away where the
oppressor could not reach them.
The natives were forced to be beggars, drones, cow
ards, thieves. They were driven by the lash of the white
man s If they remained to argue, they were
cupidity.
imprisoned for their impudence !

Daily the government and the natives grew farther

apart.
Instead of ingratiating herself into the favor of the
natives as do all intruders who have a spark of

policy about them France continued to wave the red

flag of oppression and further oppression. She cut
off her own nose to spite her face, and wondered why the
natives fled her ugly visage.

Huntingdon could not understand the policy of

France. The natives were not appealing to the powers
and demanding relief from French rule !
They simply
wanted open trade restored a chance ;
to work ; to
sell their products in a competitive market. It was a
just demand, a natural one. then did not France
Why
heed it? The gewgaws of the white man were not neces
sary to the natives, If they were willing to work their
282 HELL S PLAYGROUND
country and give their products in exchange for trade
goods, then why not let them do so? especially when the
result is the raison d ete of the white man s intrusion

upon the black man !

To gather rubber is no easy task. It has cost millions

of lives and it will continue to cost more annually as
the difficulties in gathering it increase.
It grows in the depths of the almost impenetrable

jungles, whose noxious effluvia is fatal to human exis

tence.
With mat elicit es, Huntingdon s guides and servants
forced a path through the labyrinth of climbing vines,
gigantic shrubs, endless creepers and hosts of parasitical
and other luxurious tropical growth which above, below
and all about resented their intrusion.
Progress was slow torturesome. Now up to the waist
;

in slimy, thick vegetable mold now clinging to stout

;

vines to keep a balance ; now thrown upon creeping,

crawling, hateful feeling denizens of the undergrowth
by the giving way of what appeared to be strong sup
ports ; now on all fours creeping cautiously along over

decaying underbush and leaf mold or crawling nerv ;

ously and painfully along a fallen tree throttled and

borne to the earth by the very vines it had succored
and supported, the carriers struggled with loads on
their heads and Huntingdon crawled after them !

No word was spoken. All energy was needed for

locomotion, self-preservation.
Heat, heat, everywhere the humid, suffocating heat
of the exuding humors of the sick and dying vegetable

kingdom a weight on the human breast as though

some nocturnal beast were sucking from the lungs the
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 283

little air stolen by them from the atmosphere of corrup

tion all about. Wave after wave of fetid vapors en
gulfed Huntingdon silently, stealthily, viciously, glut
;

tonously and all the more terrible because they had no

shape and could not be guarded against. Hydraheaded
monsters they Avere abroad in Nature s most riotous gar
den, where is fought the terrible, relentless, perpetual
battle of the survival of the fittest, where out of the dis
solution of millions are born the conquering thousands !

Finally, the via dolorosa lead into a rubber camp and

Hell was at hand !

In that eternal gloom of pestiferous depths, shunned

by all healthy things, little children, men and women m
the flower of their youth, mothers with babes strapped
to their backs, decrepit old men and old women, gathered
the viscid matter called rubber! Their movements were
listless and mechanical they were as doomed souls
serving an endless penance. Fever was in their eyes,
rheumatism in their joints, the chill of malaria in their
veins and their life forces oozed drop by drop in the
sweat of exhaustion that bathed their almost nude bodies!
From its perch on its mother s back, a baby cried as
the mother inadvertently thrust its tender eye against
a jagged leaf !

A little girl, not more than four years old and inno

cent of drapery, tottered under the weight of a calabash

filled with drinking water!

A woman, hollow-eyed and delicate, patiently lighted

her master s pipe, then sank listlessly among the dank
underbrush, to arise again when the pipe was handed
her for replenishing and lighting. She was too far
spent to do anything else !
284 HELL S PLAYGROUND
In iron kettles on wood fires manioc was boiling. And
embers green plantains were roasting.
in the

About the fires, stretched on mats damp as the very

earth itself, lay the exhausted, the sick, the dying!
Three were already dead and two men were making
rude litters to convey the deceased back to Iheir native
towns perhaps a week s journey away.
New odors offended the already weakened nostrils.

They outstenched even vegetation s mold, for decaying

human flesh and the living sick body have smells dis

tinctly their own.

In that reeking, deadly atmosphere a little girl was
born but a few hours since She lay on a mat, uncovered
!

and unattended, while flies, ants, spiders and other crawl

ing pests fed on her tender new flesh The mother had
!

again taken her place among the laborers. In piles lay

the rubber a dirty blue-white, roughly kneaded into
small balls.

Huntingdon had not protested had the natives rushed

upon and killed him for he was of tlie race that compelled
their drudgery. But even as he closed his eyes, no longer
able to look upon the uncanny tragedy, the natives
were upon him, not with blows and curses but with smiles
and hospitality s greetings!
From somewhere new grass mats were brought and a
roughly carved ebony stool.

Children, at the first sight of the white man, shrieked

in terror and hid behind their mothers, while over older

faces, accustomed only to endurance s stony stare, came

a slow smile, all the more pathetic because it was so

short-lived !

It is this very rubber rubber gathered at the ex-

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 285

pense of human suffering, human life, that the white

man decries as worthless, and to the gatherer gives a
less reward than he tips a well-fed and well-clothed
waiter who serves him for a brief moment of time! It
is this
very rubber or the want of it which must
bear the brunt of all the sins of commission and omission
of the French Government and on which is blamed the
annihilating conditions existing to-day in the Congo
Franfais.
Thief-palaver is what the natives term the action of
the French.

Nothing for nothing is the dictum of righteousness.

Nothing for nothing is the great law. Can any one set
of people deny all right? The French rob the natives
and continue to rob them. They are left nothing, yet
out of nothing they are expected to pay something !
As Smithson had said it is an impossible condition, and

something must give way. The native is crushed to

"

the earth and never rises again."

"

France in her the goose that lays the

greed kills

golden eggs. She might find other geese, but who can
resuscitate the dead ones ? Aye, Smithson knew where
"

of he spoke !

Huntingdon also recalled the argument between Cap

tain Haywood, the soldier, and Longworthy, the man of
trade.
"

After all, who reaps the reward of Africa?

"

Hay-
wood had demanded. "

Why, the white man. Work is

alien to the native. We force him to it, and none too

gently, either. The fact that he works for us at all,
that he permits us to remain in his country, ought at
least to earn some consideration for him."
286 HELL S PLAYGROUND
If colonies were built
"

Longworthy raged in reply :

on justice, there d be no colonies," or words to that effect.

Those were Sadler s views too, when Huntingdon told
him what he had learned throughout the bush.
None of it s new to me," said the little skipper
"

and don t imagine, Huntingdon, that you can change

"

things one bit, out here. You can t. We British have

been butted out in some districts and we got damages
from the Pomme-de-terre-frits, but damages are nothing
to our loss of trade. But take my advice, old man get :

all you can out of the niggers and the Pomme-de-terre-

frits. Their hoggish concessions are continuing to go

to the wall and Smithson was right when he advised you
to jump in and secure them."

"

m
doing my best, Sadler.
I I wrote home the next
boat after Smithson gave me the tip and the next mail
ought to bring me some definite news."

And it did.
Huntingdon s
agents in Paris had suc
ceeded in getting control of French concessions at
Mboue, Ninga Sika, and Agouma.
French traders continued in charge of the factories,
but Huntingdon himself visited them frequently and
watched his own interests closely. As Smithson had
predicted, natives came from all directions and, demand
ing work, were eager to serve the Great White King and
bring him the products of their country. The old stand
ard wages were restored trade goods were the same ;

prices as at the coast ;

native products recovered their
standard values ; barter and sale were as they had been
before monopoly gripped the land. Universal was the
demand for Virginia leaf tobacco ; it was the greatest
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 287

medium of exchange and Huntingdon marveled why

direct American trade had not come to the coast.

Experienced planters were sent out from Europe ;

every foot of Huntingdon s territory was put under

cultivation, principally with rubber vines, lime trees,
cacao and ground nuts. Native foods were also grown
in profusion and the great vegetable garden at Ninga
Sika was revived. This island had been first cultivated
over a half century ago by one Lawler, a Yankee trader,
and near it were the towns built and occupied by Paul
du Chaillu. Any white man could have vegetables for
the sending and many of them availed themselves of

Huntingdon s generosity. Vegetables also found their

way to Madame Leon at Lambarene and to little Sadler.

Moore and the other white men of Cape Lopez were also

supplied.
As the business increased, native clerks were secured
from the British Government at Sierra Leone, and for
the time in years the Fernand-Vaz, the Rembo and
first

the Bakclai rivers resounded with their old-time activity.

Again the happy song of the paddlers reverberated from

shore to shore. Abandoned towns were again occupied.
Native plantations were again made !

Huntingdon s first shipment of logs on the Nigeria

was the largest that ever left Cape Lopez. Skipper
Hains and Sadler rejoiced as much as did Huntingdon
and the occasion was turned into a general festival.
Again Huntingdon was lavish with gifts to the natives
and in his entertainment of the white men.

Huntingdon was now the gossip of the entire west

coast and the only truthful thing said of him by white
288 HELL S PLAYGROUND
men were his ever increasing trade and his continued
popularity with the natives. He was indeed their Great
White King. He continued to judge their palavers he ;

paid the taxes of the old and the infirm but able-bodied
men were put to work and willingly and well they
worked.
No hatred so deep and relentless as that of jealousy
and envy. Had the gossip of the other white traders
ever come to Huntingdon s ears, there had been murder
at Cape Lopez, for the tales they spread about him were
dastardly in the extreme.
Huntingdon, however, was sublimely unconscious of
everything save the progress he was making and the
flight of time.
Twoyears were numbered with the past and only one
year of service remained.
But the struggle was telling on the white man. Africa
besieged him in every possible manner. Daily the lan
guor within him grew ; he was weary, so utterly weary !

More frequent were attacks of fever; he crowded on

more quinine.
He who had never before felt ache or pain became a
hospital of ills ; movement was misery, to remain still
was agony.
Tornadoes were again raging.
The days were monotonous the nights interminable.
;

The heat and the mosquitoes Avere maddening.

For the
first time Huntingdon had to admit that

Africa was what the sour-dough men had labeled her:

just plain hell.

Monks of old flayed their flesh to kill desire.

Huntingdon dulled his by fatiguing walks through

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 289

almost impassable bush with Nkombi Kakhi and Ogula,

the shootman.
He sank deep in mire sometimes to his very arm
pits.

Complete exhaustion earned him a few hours uncon

sciousness during the interminable hours of the tropical

night, but the curse of loneliness was upon him.

Little Sadler sterm of service had expired and
first

he was in
Europe for rest. How Huntingdon missed
him And the Douane! If thought and longing could
!

recall the dead, then would have the Creole come to his

friend, but, alas, mortal mind might get some comfort

in retrospection, but it cannot reincarnate those who
have shed this mortal coil. The white men of Cape
Lopez never called upon Huntingdon, save to borrow
money with which to pay gambling debts, rental on
native women and to make up shortages to their re

spective firms. Huntingdon never failed them. He

who was put himself in the
suffering so keenly could
place of other sufferers and he could not be other than
kind.

Huntingdon s mail, too, had gradually fallen off.

Of the compognons de voyage he heard only from Wal
lace, and the old coaster s letters depressed rather than
cheered.

Huntingdon could not possibly have endured the life

had it not been for his beloved and her letters. But
not a word of his purgatory did he write to her. He
spoke only of the passing of time and of business. The
latter was slow now because of the heavy rains, but all

signs indicated a very heavy shipment of logs and in

creased business in general the coming dry season.
290 HELL S PLAYGROUND
In the midst of one interminable night, Huntingdon
could have cried for very joy when Moore sent for him.
Chills and fever were shaking the life out of Moore and
at sight of Huntingdon, he immediately went off into
delirium. Huntingdon not only tenderly nursed Moore
but took complete charge of his factory, leaving Mbega
to look after his own. Moore acknowledged that he
owed his life to Huntingdon, but Huntingdon made little

of his services and assured Moore that he, Moore, would

do as much for Huntingdon or any other white man
who was in For a few weeks following his
distress.

recovery Moore sought Huntingdon continuously, then

abruptly he absented himself and again Huntingdon was
left to self and monotony.
April came.
Huntingdon had no desire for food. He slept only
under the influence of opiates. He drank deeply, too.
Daily, his only exercise was the short walk from bunga
low to factory. Once in a while he managed to get as
far as the post office.

It was endurance, stiff, determined endurance. He

shut his jaws tight. He swore to endure to the end.
There was some factory and he sought it-
life in the

He let Mbega go for the day the boij had been faithful ;

and had not had a holiday in a long while.

A man and a woman came to trade.
"

Lemme look them stink water," the man demanded,

indicating perfume in the show case.
He put the bottle to his nose and sniffed vigorously.
He be plenty strong, too much?
" "

"

Proper answered Huntingdon.

fine,"

"

How much he be? "

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 291

Foura mbani
"

two francs."
For five long minutes the man and woman discussed
the price in their native tongue.
"

You no
got one shilling bottle? asked the native. "

Huntingdon brought forth another bottle from the

case.
"

Him be plenty fine; strong, too much? "

Proper fine," answered Huntingdon, patiently.

"

"

How much he be? "

"

One shilling."
"

You no got him for dee sous?

"

"

One shilling," answered Huntingdon, forcing him

self to patience.

Again a consultation between the natives.

Finally the bottle was handed to the woman.
The man slowly untied a knot in a handkerchief, ex
tracted a shilling, slowly retied the knot, and laid the

money on the counter.

Then, after pricing nearly everything he saw, he
grunted :

"

Knife."

A jackknife of one blade was handed out.

Again long conversation, price asked, comments made.
Another fumbling with the kerchief and ten sous were
laid down.
Again an inspection of the factory, a lot of questions
asked, then cloth was demanded.
No got other for two foura? asked the native,
"
"

after several cloths were shown him.

Take um or lef um," Huntingdon cried irritably.
"

It was the first time he had rebelled, but it didn t affect

the native in the least.
292 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Again came the jabbering with his woman, again the
process of extracting money from the kerchief, retying
it, and handing the cloth to the woman.

Tacco," next demanded the man, but Huntingdon s

"

patience fled.
"

No live," he cried, shooing the man and woman off,

fastening the door and hurrying to the bungalow.

He wanted to get away from sight or sound of natives.
He found Ngumbe and Makaya fighting over a
woman.
Ngumbe had let out one of his wives to Makaya and
Makaya had failed to pay the ten sous demanded.
As usual, they brought the palaver before the white
man.
Heretofore Huntingdon had always listened patiently
to palavers, let each participant have his say, then he
rendered a just decision.
But to-day he was in no mood for anything, save to

drop on a divan, to give up to the Vampire Languor who

gnawed at his very vitals.
"

Master," Ngumbe was saying,

"

them Loango him

tek my womans for him bed, me I lef um an he dash
me All time so
dee sous. but now Loango say me,
Ngumbe, me no fit
pay dee sous. Loango mek thief-
palaver for Ngumbe. It no be so, Master?
"

Infinitely bored and irritable, Huntingdon harshly

demanded he wanted to be rid of the whole business
"

What have you got to say, Makaya? "

"

Me? and Makaya came forward

"

in his greasy
Master look. tek him be so.
"

glide. I womans, it

All time I pay Ngumbe dee sous it be so. Now free

him womans born picJcens. Them be my part. Womans
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 293

that s what them pickens all be they be all same

argent. Ngumbe fit for sell im when piclcens
ketch proper big. Me, fadder for them pickens, bring
argent mpolo, magnifique to Ngumbe. He be proper
rich when him sell him pickens to mens. Me, I never
owe him argent, him got proper dee sous mpolo in them
pickens, it no be so, master? "

"

Get out, both of you,"

cried Huntingdon. Fight
"

it out between you. I don t care a damn what you do.

Get out of my sight. your eternal mammy- I m sick of

palaver and greediness !

"

Great was the gossip among the white men at Hunt

ingdon s action. It was reported far and wide. Oh,
yes, Huntingdon, the great Anglais was going the way
of Africa all right. Twould not be long noAv until he
was thoroughly subjugated!
Several days later Chief Ragundo with a retinue
came to Huntingdon with a palaver.
Again woman was the cause of the dispute.
It was hours before Huntingdon got the gist of the

affair.

A native had stolen one of Chief Ragundo s

daughters.
He pay didn t for her. A native counsel was called.
Chief Ragundo had rendered decision. The nose of
the offender was cut off, the flogged severely. woman was
With unheard-of audacity she had gone to the Comman
dant to complain of being beaten. It is against the law
of France to flog women. The Commandant had sum
moned Chief Ragundo to the post. Ragundo defended
that he owned the woman, she was goods and chattels to
be disposed of as he wished, to be punished or rewarded
as he wished, as was the custom of his people from time
294 HELL S PLAYGROUND
out of mind. But the Commandant would not accept
his defense. He fined Chief Ragundo ten francs. Un
less the Great White King loaned his good friend, Chief

Ragundo, the money, the chief would have to go to jail.

Huntingdon was only too glad to donate the money
and be rid of the whole gang.
Then acute languor claimed him. For days he re
clined on the divan on the veranda.
He knew Mbega would faithfully look after the fac
tory, but Makaya and Ngumbe took advantage of their
master s weakness.
The house was neglected and filthy. Makaya drank
a great deal he used only canned foods they were sent
; ;

in wretchedly cooked and never on time. Ngumbe at

tended table clad only in a cloth and reeking with the
boquet d Afrique.
Huntingdon had not a coat with a button on ;
his

clothing were a wretched color, indifferently ironed and

scorched and in general badly used. But he had no
idea of his unkempt appearance ; he concentrated upon
the passing of time he forced his thoughts to civili
;

zation his only letters were to the woman he loved and

;

to his father about business.

At last May came.
The rains stopped. Thank God !

Huntingdon welcomed cooler breezes and clear skies.

He ordered his guns brought forth, cleansed and primed.
With Ogula, the shootman, and Nkombi Kakhi, his

brother, he set out to hunt.

Not only was the bush impenetrable, but the exertion
of getting there was too much for him and he was com

pelled to return immediately.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 295

Again came inaction, thought and forced endurance.

Patiently he waited until the middle of June.
Again he set forth, but again fatigue and languor
sent him home. He was soft from the long wet, the
heat, repeated fever, improper food and no exercise.
He would be all right when the dry season advanced,
as the winds grew cooler.
Winds grew cooler and Huntingdon shivered with cold.

He, who just two years before had laughed so when

Smithson had demanded if he had brought out blankets,
needed blankets and plenty of them he was nervous,
;

weak and sick!

irritable,

August came for the third time and with it the Dwarf.
Again a great hunt was organized, but Huntingdon was
the to drop out.
first

Again the rains and mosquitoes and monotony and in

creased attacks of fever. But Huntingdon was on the
homeward stretch and he literally flogged himself into
action.

Daily he worshiped at the shrine of the woman he

loved. He made a litany of her parting words and
repeated them when endurance was at bursting point:
Forget you, my Love of Loves. I should forget to
breathe first!
He nurtured her kisses upon his lips.
He strove and endured, strove and endured !

Only eight months more !

Only eight months more,
then Marjorie and release!
 TWAS the middle of November.
The of Mandji and the great stretches of
Plains

primeval forests, and even the sea, had long since lost
their charms !
They were the same, always the same.
Day after day, at a certain hour, the sun was at the
same spot in the heavens. Day and night came and
went with monotonous regularity. Sunset at six, sun
rise at six. Eternal sameness, eternal repetition, soul-
destroying to an active temperament bred in the rush
and roar and rattle of civilization.
Huntingdon could not bear it
longer! He must seek

change or go mad!
Pie would go to the Fernand-Vaz. He would again
make personal calls on chiefs. He would stimulate
them to cut more logs. Above all, he would get away
from the monotony of Cape Lopez.
Twas raining. The water fell like polished drill
rods, in straight, incessant streams. The sun shone and
grilled and maddened.
Across the Bay at the Village of Sangatanga, Chief
Ogandaga advised Huntingdon to leave his big canoe
and take a smaller one a dugout. It would make
better time over narrow streams and would take him
into territory not yet penetrated by white man.
A pilot familiar with the waterways and country was
absolutely necessary.
296
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 297

Chief Ogandaga regretted his inability to accompany

Huntingdon. The Commandant had summoned him to
a palaver at Cape Lopez and he must obey. But he
offered his son-in-law, Nagesa, as pilot, steersman and

interpreter.
Huntingdon s own canoe and men were returned to
Cape Lopez. Makaya and Ngumbe alone were retained.
Ogandaga s men were ugly, repulsive, rather squat,
and not at all confidence begetting. None of them
spoke English, but Ngumbe could interpret.
The canoe was long and narrow and in the stern
was a small deck house which kept out rain, and afforded
shade.

Huntingdon had been traveling for two days. It had

been raining furiously. Nights had been spent in
small, wretched, uncomfortable towns. There were the
eternal begging palavers and maledictions against the
French the eternal forcing of native women upon him
; ;

his increasing bribes to drive them off.

On the third day, towards noon, rains ceased tempora

rily. . The sun came out brilliant and hot.

Formerly canoeing had interested Huntingdon he ;

enjoyed it thoroughly he was entranced with the beauty

;

of the country.
But all was changed now.
The journey was irksome, dreadfully so, and he never
so much as glanced at the country.
For hours he sat inert or lay doubled up in the deck
house, which was too short to permit his stretching at
full length.

From time to time the paddlers called his attention to

monkeys scampering from tree to tree. Huntingdon
298 HELL S PLAYGROUND
knew a little more about monkeys now. They never
throw cocoanuts at passers-by. They are extremely
timid and hard to approach.

Suddenly Nagesa drew Huntingdon s attention to

a herd of hippopotami on a bank some yards distant
ahead.

Huntingdon was immediately interested.

He sighted, fired, and a big beast dived backward
into the water, followed by the others.
He commanded Nagesa to draw near the bank and wait
for the injured beast to come up.
To Huntingdon s surprise, there was consternation
among the natives.
They questioned each other with their eyes.
Nagesa answered his brothers by deliberately steering
away from the hippopotami !

It was the firstinsubordination offered Huntingdon.

He did not know what to make of it.
He was miles away from anywhere, with strange,
superstitious savages. Makaya was a coward and
would not fight if he had a whole arsenal of arms and
knew how to use them. Ngumbe was faithful, but
would he have the courage to take a stand against such
an overwhelming number of his brothers? Huntingdon
feared not.
Yet Huntingdon s blood warmed to the adventure.
He was numb from the narrow quarters of the canoe and
a bit of excitement was welcome. He felt that it was
coming.
Nagesa said something in the Ouroungo tongue.
The paddlers commenced to chatter like a lot of

monkeys, while they stroked as hard as they could.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 299

thundered Huntingdon.
"

Silence
"

So short and stern was the command, that every negro

turned to look upon the white man.
Look them river horse for back
"

was Huntingdon s !
"

next command.
Not a man obeyed Instead they rested on their
!

paddles and gazed sullenly at Huntingdon.

Huntingdon felt like blowing off every negro s head.
But he knew that would never do.
He laid his rifle across his knee and lighted his pipe
he was thinking, thinking, wondering what was the
best move to make.

Again came the jabbering among the paddlers.

They were arguing something, pointing wildly to
wards the clump of bushes in front of which the hippo
potami had dived and the other shore distant only a few
feet from the nose of the canoe.
Suddenly there came an exclamation of terror from
one of the paddlers Away shot the canoe as though
!

the very devil were after it 1

The men pulled upstream likemad and in deep

silence for full twenty minutes. The mutiny aroused all
Huntingdon s fighting blood and he prepared for action,
silently and deftly so that the savages would not suspect
his purpose.
He continued to lean against the left upright of the
deck house. It permitted him to keep one eye on

Nagesa behind him and the other on the paddlers in

front. He was higher than the paddlers, and stealthily
he braced his repeating rifle with his knee until the gun
covered them. His left hand was ready to grasp his
revolver, the holster of which he had worked to his left
300 HELL S PLAYGROUND
side by rubbing against the deck house. At the first
sign of danger to himself he would kill Nagesa and the
rest would be easy for the other savages were in front
of him.
But his intention was checkmated.
Nagesa said something to Ngumbe, and, to Hunting
don s great surprise, Ngumbe crawled aft along the gun
wale and squatted alongside Nagesa. The space was
small and there was scarce room for two men Ngumbe s
;

knee, therefore, was against Huntingdon s revolver and

prevented its use.

Huntingdon wanted to command Ngumbe to return to

and more than ever he longed to question
his position,

Nagesa.
But he did neither.
Apparently careless and indifferent he sat there, but
every sense was alert attending the next move of the
savages.
He wondered if he could get Ngumbe and Nagesa with
the same bullet. He could, if he would aim now but
that would be senseless.
Yet he waited until danger threatened his person,
if

twould be too late. Ngumbe would grab his left arm

and Huntingdon would be powerless.
Would Ngumbe dare lay hands on him? Ngumbe
would be foolhardy to offer him bodily hurt when secret
poison was as effective and less liable to discovery.
Huntingdon had one regret, only one and it was in
:

keeping with the sang-froid of the Bedford s and the

Granvilles. He wished he were clothed in fresh white
duck instead of ragged khaki. A corpse looks so much
better in white!
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 301

Suddenly the speed of the canoe was slackened and

she came to a standstill amid stream.
Twas the Agule branch of the Ogowe River. It was
narrow, lined on both sides by papyrus and other high
reeds, and backed by the dense growth of the equatorial
forests.
Not a canoe rested on either bank, indicating a near-by

village.
Not a canoe was visible on the water and day was
fast dying. Suddenly, fatigue overpowered Hunting
don ; he had fever he was alternately hot and cold his
; ;

eyes burned and with difficulty he kept them open.

Oh, bother the palaver!
Let the savages go hang !

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He gave him

self up to languor.

Suddenly the strong smell of mission-grown tobacco

assailed his nostrils.
"

Put out that pipe,"

he commanded roughly, sitting
upright.
The paddlers stared at Huntingdon. Surprise was
big in their faces.

They had always smoked ; it was customary to smoke

in a canoe.
But it was not customary to smoke in Huntingdon s
canoe. He never permitted a servant to smoke in his
presence. The paddlers did not know this, of course,
and Huntingdon never suspicioned that they did not
know it.
Hence the astonishment at the command.
Huntingdon saw only continued mutiny and insolence
in the stares of the savages.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Quick as a flash he raised his rifle, and sighted. From
the mouth of the smoker the pipe fell, cracked into bits !

Huntingdon felt that he was in for it. At the risk

of upsetting the canoe he deliberately turned broadsides,
he held his revolveraft, the rifle pointing forward.

Again the excited jabbering among the natives !

Huntingdon could not interpret one word they said!

Were they discussing which was the quickest and best
way to kill him?
But as he braced himself for the fight, to his horror,
he muscles again relaxing, languor held him in
felt his

a vice and he wanted to sleep!

To sleep!
Huntingdon straightened himself with a jerk.
Had Makaya, Ngumbe fed him poison !

He imagined he saw a look of triumph on Makaya s

ugly, shriveled face. He imagined the reason of

Ngumbe seating himself aft of him.

s

When the drug overcame him, Ngumbe was to keep

him from falling into the water, so as not to endanger
the loss of his guns !

Marjorie! flashed through Huntingdon s brain !

For himself he felt rather knocked-up for fight, but

he didn t belong to himself, he had to consider her.
" "

Ngumbe !

Huntingdon s voice was so terrifying, that involun

tarily Ngumbe s head came down hard on Huntingdon s

back.

Huntingdon imagined it the beginning of attack ;

he
hit Ngumbe over the head with the butt of his revolver,

knocking him senseless, and causing the blood to flow

from his scalp.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 303

"

Makaya ! Down flat on your belly or I ll riddle

you with shot !

"

commanded Huntingdon in French,

which the others did not understand.
Makaya, the coward, dropped face downward in the
bottom of the canoe.
"

Two less against me," muttered Huntingdon.

But what were the natives jabbering about?

Why didn t they attack him and get it over with?

The shadows were lengthening, night was coming on.
Were they going to wait and make way with him in the
darkness ?
Not if he knew it.

Nagesa, make for shore

" "

To Huntingdon s surprise, the fellow instantly

obeyed Willing men bent over paddles.
!

What savage deviltry was up now ?

Huntingdon knew he would have to bivouac for the

night in the inhospitable bush a mangrove swamp

likely. Would his dead body be left there, food for
lean vultures?

Again he braced himself for resistance. He would

start something. He did not like the way things were
going.
Just then the canoe came foul of mud, and instantly
every paddler was overboard.
They paid no attention to the insensible Ngumbe or
to the frightened Loango.
Nagesa leaped over the gunwale and turned his back
for Huntingdon to mount.

Huntingdon spurned the man. He was not to be

caught napping that way. He essayed to jump into
the water, intending to wade ashore. But Nagesa de-
304 HELL S PLAYGROUND
liberately caught him by the arms and effectively over
powered him!
Huntingdon kicked savagely, but Nagesa kept on
towards the bank.
Suddenly, Nagesa fell flat and Huntingdon on top of
him.

Huntingdon started to curse roundly at the impudence

of the fellow daring to precipitate him into the muddy
s

water, but the words froze in his mouth, at the sight

which met his gaze !

A crocodile darted away with the speed of an arrow

and disappearing down his jaws was a human leg!
Huntingdon s nerves gave way. Unmindful of more
crocodiles and of other dangers, he sat waist deep in the
water staring, STARING, STARING, at Nagesa crawling to
shore, his right leg bitten off neat at the knee joint!
The paddlers surrounded Nagesa.
Nagesa spoke rapidly.
Huntingdon forced himself to crawl to shore.
He couldn t understand a word the savages said !

Now they were sure to murder him !

What a foolish move it was to knock Ngumbe sense

less!

He was the only one who could interpret the language

of the Ouroungoes!
The blood flowing from Nagesa s mutilated knee
1

brought back Huntingdon s nerve. The man must have

attention, or he would bleed to death !

"

Makaya, Makaya," Huntingdon shouted.

Makaya slouched forward.
Hurry, you nigger, or shouted
"

I ll skin you alive,"

Huntingdon in French.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 305

Fear lent the Loango movement.

Bring medicine kit, one
"

time."

A lantern was lighted.

Night had fallen.
It was raining again and the humidity was growing
thicker.
The dank smell of the swampy ground, the nearness
of the savages and the fresh blood were almost too much
for Huntingdon, weak as he was. But he had work to
do he must stop Nagesa s blood if possible !

What were the savages jabbering about?

And what for was that fool Nagesa wasting his fast

waning strength in mouth-palaver?

Huntingdon opened his surgical case. He would give
the fellow a powerful hypodermic, then make a tourni

quet in an effort to stop the blood-flow.

He got out his needle. He searched for morphine.
He advanced towards Nagesa, then suddenly paused, for
out of the shadows came a whisper, only a whisper and
it was in French :

"

Never use him, Master, never use him. Black man

he fear white man magic! "

The warning came from Makaya, Makaya, the

coward f

Huntingdon was NOT TO OFFER TO STOP THE

FLOW OF NAG^SA S LIFE BLOOD !

Verily, the way of the savage was beyond his civilized

comprehension.
And why Nagesa not stop talking?
did
"

Coffee, Master?
questioned Makaya, as though he
"

had not exactly heard his master s command.

Huntingdon had not given any command he had
306 HELL S PLAYGROUND
said nothing. Fatigue and sleep were again besieging
him.
But he knew that Makaya was prompting him the

Loango would save him if salvation were possible.

"

Yes, coffee, Makaya And make him strong, savvy,

!

proper strong,"
and Huntingdon s tones conveyed a
threat.
He would play up to the Loango. The savage knew
the ways ofhis brethren. He would meet their cunning
with cunning!

Huntingdon was aware full well that he never could

win out alone never !

He knew Nagesa must die and perhaps Ngumbe

was already dead.
He knew the law of the savages a life for a life.

He was in their power ;

would they exact the penalty
from him his blood for the blood of their brother?

The rain was coming down in torrents.

The mosquitoes descended in droves.
Huntingdon was tortured almost to madness.
The noise of the rain on the dense overgrowth was
so loud that wild animals could approach unheeded.
If he had to go, Huntingdon preferred the beasts to
the savages no, he had his revolver.
;
Self murder were
less ignoble. It should be that in extremity.

Then he made a startling discovery.

His revolver was jammed from its
ducking in the
stream!
Neither barrel nor trigger would move !

But he mustn t let the savages know his revolver was

useless !

His scatter gun and rifle were all right, but they were
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 307

in the canoe. The savages would never let him get them
never !

Makaya was bending low over a fire on which the coffee

kettle commenced to boil.
An looking thing he appeared over the fire s red
evil

glow, and over there where the bleeding man lay were
the shadows, dense shadows. Huntingdon could not see
what was taking place, but the voices were less loud,
and Nagesa s had stopped.
The rain commenced to drip through the dense foliage
overhead. Huntingdon was shivering with cold.
Makaya, my chair from the canoe and my rain
"

coat."

The sunk deep in the soft ground as

collapsible chair
Huntingdon upon His rain coat was heavy, but
sat it.

he .forced himself to endure it.

Makaya brought the coffee.

Huntingdon and Makaya were alone. They, too,

were in the shadows.
Huntingdon took the cup, then suddenly thrust it to

Makaya s mouth.
"

Drink !
"

was all he said.

Makaya hesitated, just for a snap shot of time, but
it came near being his death warrant.

Huntingdon s fingers closed on the negro s windpipe.

He could not see the fellow s face the night was too
black but his fingers told him the wretch drank.
Huntingdon drained the cup and three others in quick
succession.
The warm coffee braced him up, but he knew it would
soon pass away. He needed something stronger, and
he needed food badly.
308 HELL S PLAYGROUND
There were a live chicken in the canoe and plenty of
other chop.

Makaya must cook some supper.

But what were the savages doing over there in the
shadows !

Their voices had ceased all together.

Huntingdon feared their silence more than he had
their excited jabbering.

Suddenly an Ouroungo came from the shadows and

said one word:
"

Allumette."

Huntingdon gave him a box of safety matches, the

lasthe had in a small waterproof case. But there were
more matches in the canoe.
Yes, there were many things in the canoe Hunting
don would like to have his scatter gun, for instance.

Makaya could get it in the darkness.

But could he wholly trust Makaya?

Once the savages suspected Makaya, he Avas done for.
Ngumbe must be dead. The rain would have revived
him e er this, if he had only swooned.
The ground was so wet and miry that the Ouroungoes
built their fires in the forks of the giant mangroves.
The silvery feelers of the trees were gaunt and bare,
like skeleton s claws reaching for victims. On their
twisted branches the paddlers, like birds of evil, perched,
and sullen and silent, gazed into the fires, while manioc
boiled merrily in iron kettles.
The fires intensified the weird surroundings and en
hanced the white man s nervousness.
Twas an uncanny sight, an uncanny spot.
The breath of the swamp was heavy, depressing, the
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 309

rain came down in torrents, and, now and then, acute

lightning pierced the bush and ominous thunder growled.
To the rear was dense, impenetrable jungle, inhabited
by the most dangerous of beasts. In front was a

rapidly flowing, muddy stream infested by crocodiles

and hippopotami. Staring sullenly into the fires were
the savages, whom Huntingdon fancied were executioners

waiting to dispatch him.

Suddenly Huntingdon imagined that great snakes
were wriggling towards him. He moved restlessly. A
branch overhead caught his hat.
He jumped up. He was sure that a leopard was
about to drop upon or a savage attack him He started !

to run, and sank knee deep into the mire, from which
he could not extricate himself.
The thick mud and loam penetrated his khaki cloth
ing and soft mosquito boots hordes of mosquitoes at
;

tacked him he shook with chills he burned with fever.

; ;

Nobody paid any attention to him !

Makaya was taking a very long time to prepare his

master s
supper.
And now r
the Loango had disappeared. Huntingdon
again imagined a stealthy approach from his rear.
Held fast by the mire, he exerted all his failing
strength. Hegot one foot free, then, grasping a branch
of a tree, he Avrestled the other from the clinging mire
and slowly crawled to the tree s fork, from whence he sat
blinking at the fires, and shivering at every sound, un
conscious of the fact that both his boots were left stick

ing in the mud !

Well, he wanted an adventure and he got it.

It would be his last he felt confident of that.
810 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Through his mind troupcd all the grewsome tales of

the old coasters.

They spoke truth after all. They knew Africa. It

was indeed Hell s

Playground. What a fool he was to
think that he could do the impossible: wrestle with it,

single handed and alone.

He laughed aloud, thing suddenly gone mad.
like a

Still nobody paid any attention to him.

He could see Makaya now. He was in a fork of a

mangrove just a little bit to the rear, cooking supper.

My, how slow the nigger was And how sleepy Hunt
!

ingdon was ! If he only dare relax, sleep would come

on the instant ;
he was so weary, so tired, so languid !

But he dare not sleep. The savages would be sure to

murder him some fashion not to leave any traces, then
in

they would take his dead body back to Cape Lopez and
swear that he died from fever and exposure.
He knew he ought to have quinine and stimulants and
blankets; that he ought to return to the canoe, to the
shelter of its deck house and its mosquito bar, but he
had not the strength to call Makaya, he could only stare
at the fires and hope to keep awake.

Subconsciously, he wondered what Nagesa was doing

over there in the shadows. Was the life blood still flow

ing, or had it fled, ghost with it?

taking the fellow s

The manioc was cooked and about the pots the Our-
oungoes gathered, eating ravenously, in eerie silence.
The meal finished, pipes were lighted, but Huntingdon
was too far spent to remonstrate against anything
the savages did, except to attack him, and, weak though
he was, he prepared to defend himself.
How could he repulse them? He needed some weapon.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 311

And any number of them were down at the water s

edge in the canoe, but he knew he never could get them.

Quietly and laboriously he unloosened the chair from
the mire, and folded it.
When Makaya brought his food, he took great pains
to impress upon Makaya what a delightful table the chair
made across his knees !

As he ate the rain dripped lively upon his food. But

he did not mind it.

He ate with his fingers too, this scion of the esthetic

Bedfords and Granvilles, this erstwhile dandy of May-
fair drawing-rooms.
And he ate what he knew was dirt, too, ravenously,
faster than even the savages had eaten their simple meal
of sour manioc.
Poor devils !

He had tins enough to supply them.

He would like to make them comfortable but they
would misunderstand his motive.
If they kept away from him all night, he would not

approach them.
If daylight were allowed to come before they took ac
tion against him, he had a fighting chance, but in the
dark he was wholly at their mercy.
A quick thrust from behind and all would be over!
Despite determination to remain awake, weariness
his

and exhaustion overpowered him.

He lost consciousness, to be startled into wakefulness

by pandemonium all about him !

The whole swamp was ablaze!

Earth seemed to have opened and all hell and dancing
demons were abroad!
312 HELL S PLAYGROUND
The very feelers of the ghostly mangroves writhed in
torturesome curves and advanced and retreated They !

jeered, they pantomimed, they menaced!

Black things were jumping up and down and making
hideous sounds !

Twas some moments before Huntingdon could gather

his wits.
Then the truth flashed over him.
His time had come ! The savages were keyed up for
his sacrifice !

What else could their dancing, their clamor, their

menacing gestures mean?
Lord, what a racket, what a din !

Where did the savages get the implements with which

to make such clatter, such ear-splitting sounds?

Huntingdon s eyes focused on a big Ouroungo. He

was pounding vigorously upon a tin trunk with a frying
pan!
Huntingdon stopped his fingers into his ears. The
din was driving him crazy.

Every nerve in his brain throbbed like pistons driven

by dynamic force.
His hands encircled his head to keep it from flying to
pieces.

Stop it, you fiends from he yelled.

" "

hell, stop it !

But no one heard him.

He leaned against the mangrove, exhausted.
He was so cold, so wet, so tired, oh, so very tired !

Death would mean sleep rest, at least.

But the infernal savages tortured him by putting off

his death from hour to hour. And what manner of death
would they employ ?
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 313

He idly wondered where the savages got the dried

wood to keep up the blazing fires.

He wondered, too, how the wounded Nagesa could

stand the hellish rumpus.
Then out of the general uproar a weird chant beat
upon his strained nerves. Louder and louder it rose ;

faster and faster danced the savages.

One by one they fell, only to rise again and continue
to jump up and down with renewed abandon!

They were devils, nothing but devils !

The white man was a fool to try to civilize them or

to attempt to wrestle wealth from their country !

In suspense Huntingdon died a thousand deaths. He

would have done violence to himself, but he had not the
power to move arm or leg!
He could only look on and suffer.

Slowly night lifted, and, like a reluctant thing, sad-

eyed Dawn stole out.

Huntingdon never welcomed anything so much in all

his life !

Haggard, worn, and thoroughly spent, Huntingdon

looked towards Nagesa.
He was DEAD !

Huntingdon understood the dance! Twas to keep

off evil spirits devils who came to steal the souls of

living men !

Huntingdon thought it a chimera of his weary brain

when Ngumbe came to him.
There was a hole in his head, blood had dried on his
face and his eyes were sunken and unusually large.

Ouroungo want for go

"

Master," he said humbly,

"

for him town with Nagesa. You fit let him go? "
314 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Huntingdon started, incredulous.
So this was the end of it all.
He laughed like a wild man !

Ngumbe turned away, explaining something in Our-

oungo.
Then Makaya spoke, Makaya, the coward.
"

Master, be wise palaver to let Nagesa people tek

it

him for him town," he said in French.

Of course they could take him to his town. Twas
the very thing Huntingdon wanted.
It was his salvation !

Sullen were the faces turned toward the white man

as Ngumbe delivered his master s implied refusal for
the removal of the dead Nagesa.

Though Huntingdon knew it not, it was the moment

of his greatest danger.
The superstitious fears of the savages regarding the
dead were coming into play.
Unless they got Nagesa to his town where they could
hold the customary feast over his death, evil spirits
would descend upon the men who had failed Nagesa in
his extremity.

Nagesa himself would haunt them unto death every

one of them was a marked man.
While they shook now with nervous, superstitious
dread, yet that very dread would arm them to do violence
to Huntingdon, to make way with him that Nagesa

might have the proper death feast in his own town sur
rounded by his wives and his peoples !

Towards the canoe in his stocking feet Huntingdon

walked as bravely as possible, but it was all he could
do to keep his balance. He was dizzy and the ground
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 315

was swampy and slippery, and the rain continued to

fall.

he cried, tell them Ouroungoes we fit

" "

Ngumbe,"
for take walk one time for Nagesa s town."
The command was received with satisfaction, and
Huntingdon never made such a quick canoe journey in
all his life.

When the town of Chief Ogandaga at Sangatanga

was reached Huntingdon was delirious with fever.
When his senses returned, he was in his own bed, and
a black woman was attending him !

She gave him some sort of hot broth.

He turned over and went to sleep normal sleep ;

the first he had had in months !

 CHAPTER XX
THE woman was Ndio, the Gabonaise!
She had bided her time. She was of Africa and she
knew her country s ways !

It was when the crisis of blackwater fever was ap

proaching. Huntingdon s skin took on the different

shades of yellow, while his face was blood red his eyes ;

protruded alarmingly and the secretions of his kidneys

were the very fluids of life.

Moore and LeBlanc had done what they could for

him. But it was little. They had grown indifferent to
suffering. Huntingdon was left to his fate. He grew
violent. Makaya, Ngumbe, Mbega, Ogula and Nkombi
Kakhi fled from him in terror. Their master was be
witched He was left alone to die
! !

In delirium he jumped from his bed and was about

to leap into the bay, when Ndio, the Gabonaise came ;

Ndio, the imperious Ndio, the much desired, the cov

;

eted of all white men, save him into whose life Fate thrust
her!
She forced Ngumbe, Ogula, Nkombi Kakhi and Mbega
to take Huntingdon to his bed and hold him until the
delirium had passed. And this forcing of the savages

was no easy task. They are so superstitious that they

would as soon take hold of the devil himself as a white
man raving and violent. But the imperious Gabonaise
exacted obedience from her inferiors. They feared her
316
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 317

fury and the vengeance of her powerful tribe even more

than they feared the devil in the white man.
The Gabonaise disdained the modern drugs of civi
lization and resorted to the simples of her people.
She nursed Huntingdon tenderly and constantly, not
out of any duty to save the life of a human being,
but because she wanted Huntingdon s body, she wanted
the man. In his right senses she had failed to draw
even his notice. She could not dominate him by her
animalism and beauty as she had conquered other white
men. She must try some other way.
Unknown to the white man, for hours and hours she
gazed upon his smooth, white flesh, his
well-shaped body.
The savage her was wild to possess him, yet she had
in

the cunning not to precipitate matters.

Other white men discarded and changed their mis
tresses at will. But such commonplace treatment was
not for the imperious Gabonaise. Twas she who did
the choosing. Twas she who discarded.
She left the Commandant without so much as an Au
revoir, Monsieur. And do what he might, the Com
mandant could not coax her back. She disdained his
gifts. She denied herself to everybody. She stored
up her passion day by day. It should break forth only

for the Englishman. He would be hers. He could not

escape !

Huntingdon was too weak, too indifferent for any

thing to make an impression upon him.
His convalescence was slow, tedious. He existed
that was all. Oh, Sadler were only there
if little

but he was still in Europe and would not come again

for months !
318 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Gradually, there came to Huntingdon a sense of com
fort. His bungalow was more homelike his meals bet;

ter served; his linen cleaner.

Huge points of ivory and small balls of rubber were

piled wherever his eyes lighted. The beach was again
lined with red and black wood as mahogany and ebony
are called. For a time he thought it was a chimera
of his delirium. Gradually, he learned it was all true
and that it was the Gabonaise who worked these won
ders.
He heard her trading with the natives. In addition
to native dialects, she spoke English and French.
The Gabonaise was indeed a worthy descendant of
the Mpangwes, the Jews of the west coast. Hunting
don thought he had made some pretty keen trades, but
he saw where he was cheated right and left.

Huntingdon was grateful to the Gabonaise and showed

his gratitude in every
way except that for which the
woman had schemed and denied herself. He showered
gifts and comforts upon her. He bought slaves to
attend her. She was the best dressed and the most
envied native woman from Dakar, in the Senegal, to
Saint Paul de Loando, in Portuguese West Africa, a
coast line of over 4,000 miles.
The other white men took it as a matter of course that
the Gabonaise was Huntingdon s mistress. They merely
shrugged their shoulders. Such a thing was bound to
come. Nothing else was possible. They ridiculed him
for having so long lived to himself.
Huntingdon tolerated their hints and their gossip.
Other things engrossed his thoughts.
For two boats he had not written home because of his
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 319

inability to do so. But he had written now, explaining

in full. He
spoke warmly of the Gabonaise both to his
mother and Marjorie. He owed his life to her and he
begged them to send her some gift attesting their ap
preciation of her services.
He spoke of the changes in his living quarters ;
of
their being more cheerful, more comfortable, and above
all cleaner. It was the first time he had hinted of dis
comforts. He told of his desertion by the natives
out of fear of his delirium ; of the desertion of the
white men out of indifference, and the fatalistic belief
that death was inevitable for a man sick as he had
been.

Huntingdon wrote fully and unreservedly.

He appreciated the agony of his loved ones because
of his silence. Particularly did he feel Marjorie s

grief. She would mourn him as dead for death alone

would keep him from writing. He
could not immediately
relieve her agony. When needed most, the cable to
Europe was not working. His loved ones would have
to await the mails and they were so slow, so slow !

But his letters were all ready awaiting the next

steamer. On her way down coast she would bring him
letters from Marjorie. Oh, how he longed for her let
ters! To kiss the paper her hands had pressed, to read
words of love, hope, encouragement and cheer! He
needed them more than ever. He was so tired, so worn,
so weary He closed
! his eyes, he felt her lips upon him,
he heard her whisper :

Forget you, my Love of Loves. I should forget to

breathe first!
He cried the words aloud when he suffered most. He
320 HELL S PLAYGROUND
called on them to help him bear up, to give him the
strength necessary to carry out his business project.
To return to England in search of health never en
tered his head.
There were only four months yet to endure only
four months more !

He lived only to mark off each day of the calendar

and to thank God that his purgatory was nearing an
end.
In his letter he had asked Marjorie to set a date for
their wedding. He honeymoon. How
lived o er their
he would love her! His starved being would feed on
her sweetness !

Thoughts of his beloved was the elixir he held to his

lips. He drank of it continuously. It was the am
brosial food that kept alive his unwilling body.

For the first life the Gabonaise, who had

time in her
made the suffering of white men her pastime, suf
fered a torment of hell impossible to a civilized nature.
She was as hungry as a lionness starved to desperation.
Yet she successfully masked the seething demand of her
nature.
She spent hours beautifying herself.She polished
her skin until it shone like rich red mahogany. She
made the most of the silks Huntingdon gave her. She
polished her nails as she had seen Huntingdon do. Re
membered were the arts the American Missionaries at
Libreville had taught her. She hemstitched linens ;
she
made gay cushions ;
she gathered fresh flowers ;
she con
cocted dainty desserts ;
she administered unto Hunting
don in every possible way. She was ever at hand to
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 321

anticipate his wishes. She ruled his factory as though

she owned it. Where Huntingdon had solicitated trade,
she demanded it, and, partly through fear of her ven

geance, and through their continued admiration for the

Great White King, the savages poured their products
in large quantities into
Huntingdon s factories.
But the beauty, the arts and attentions of a thousand
Circes could not seduce Huntingdon. His was one of
those rare, intense natures, that loves but once ; that

clings to its vows as rigidly as does a Carmelite to his.

His was no idle boast Avhen he said to Marjorie: Count
less eternities -find shall me
remembering! Herstill

image was always before him it beckoned him on and

ever on, it was the lodestar that drew him from out the

very shadow of the valley of death and gave him the

courage to fight on !

At imperious Gabonaise had to admit that she

last the

could not win the white man by any arts of her own.
She sought the magic of the witch doctor of the Our-
oungoes.
She paid the Nganga enormous sums for his charms.
She placed the charms in the band of Huntingdon s hel
met under his mattress in the cushions on which he
; ;

rested they hung over his head, they were under his
;

feet.

But to no avail.

Huntingdon constantly dreamed of home.

Three months and two weeks now three months
and two weeks !

How slowlv time went! It seemed to sleep on the

way. To forget to register passing seconds.
Patience, PATIENCE, PATIENCE ! !
Exquisite hell to
a heart burning with longing, with a body raked by
fever and exhausted from endurance.
But time must pass. IT MUST!

Twas
the night before the mail was due.

Huntingdon was too nervous, too anticipative for

sleep.
He must write again to her to the woman who filled

his thoughts.
When I shall again be with you, Light of my Soul,
I shall have entered the Holy of Holies, leaving all long

ing and pain outside. We shall live in the very Garden

of Love.
I ve been dreaming what it Light of my Be
would be,

ing. If this inanimate sheet should become for the

nonce a sensatory thing a conductor of emotion not
emotion exactly
7 cannot write I can only think. Is it possible that
my thought waves reach you, my Beloved? If they
only could, if they only could! Into thought waves I

project my very soul; that subtle something too evan

escent to flow from a pen s rusty point; too beautiful to
be tangibly expressed, too sacred to be scribbled! If
thou thinleest of me for one short second freely, fully as
I think of thee eternally, then indeed am I compensated

for being so very distant from you.

Good night, Light of my Heart, Eyes of my Eyes,
Desire of my Desire, Breath of my Breath, my Other
Half, My Completion, my Necessity. Good night!
His pen rolled unheeded upon the floor. His eyes
became large, luminous. They annihilated space, they
pierced leagues of water and land. He was by Mar-
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 323

jorie s side, he heard her soft, sweet murmur: Forget

you, my Love of Loves, I should forget to breathe first.
He pressed his lips to hers, he stopped her words, he
felt her nearness.
His eyes closed. His head sank slowly to the table.
His breathing was scarcely audible. Physical discom
forts, bodily pain had flown. Complete exhaustion en
veloped him. Thought was stilled, feeling was banished.
The Gabonaise stole in.
She bent over the white man.
She could not hear him breathe. She was alarmed.
She raised his head. His eyes looked for a second
into hers, then closed again.
Satisfied that exhaustion alone possessed him, she

lightly rubbed a charm over his head and eyes. It was

to make him to dream of her to see only her when
he should awake !

The break of day found Huntingdon on the veranda.

He was pale as a ghost and thin unto emaciation. Long
ingly he scanned the bay for a glimpse of the European
steamer.
Other days had seemed unendurable, but this day
seemed to stand still.
Perhaps the steamer was lost wrecked on that ter
rible coast ! The thought brought him renewed torture.
He sent Ngumbe to the post office for news of the
steamer.
She was all right ; she had left Libreville, she would
arrive at Cape Lopez about 5 p. M.

Closely the Gabonaise guarded the white man and

watched for a sign of the working of the magic of the
witch doctor.
324 HELL S PLAYGROUND
She coaxed Huntingdon to take food. In it was
blended the yellow of a crocodile s egg to make his love
blaze forth for her and her alone.
But Huntingdon would not eat.

You will be
"

sick again for skin, Monsieur Hunting

don. And you never live for tek walk for civilization,
to look your peoples unless you take chop," she coaxed.
He would eat, but he wanted only fruit. He would
take champagne too a whole litre. He needed his
strength to read her letters, her letters !

At last the steamer came.

Huntingdon saw but one letter that interested him.

It was Marjorie s. He
kissed the envelope and
blessed the hand that had addressed it. How
little

happy its contents would make him In it was the !

date of their wedding.

Their wedding! Sympathy,
companionship, love would soon be his they were a ;

trinity necessary to his very being !

Already his exile

and its tortures were falling from him, they were of

the past ;
the future and Marj orie had come into being !

How strong he was physical weakness had vanished be

;

fore the reality of the letter he held in his hand: the

letter naming wedding day the reward for his suf
their ;

ferings, his tortures, the reward for his incessant labors

and fidelity Oh, how! thankful he was that he had had
the strength to remain true unto her! He would tell
her all about his temptations some day some day when
they were settled in their own home, and a child, a part
of Marjorie s being and his, had come to bless them.
How could he ever have the courage to leave home again
and come out to the coast even at remote intervals to
look after his interests? But sufficient unto the day is
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 325

the evil thereof. Marj one was with him, there in her
letter Marjorie
Why how thin was her letter ; only one sheet ! She
was ill, of course she was ill.
Perhaps she had died
while the letter was en route to him ! Died and left
him ! Perish the thought !

Nervously he tore open the letter no date, no en

dearing salute what words were those ah, he was
crazy Hell s Playground sported with his brain the

joy at the receipt of her letter was too much for his
weakened state his overwrought senses
; made hideous
distortions of the words penned by the hand of his be
loved !

I have been informed why you have not written. You

have a native wife and child. Of course you recognize
that a marriage between you and me is impossible. I
have sent your ring and your gifts to your mother.

Truly he must be mad. That was no letter from

Marjorie. Delusion was the worst trick Hell
Play s

ground had yet played him. Marjorie repudiate him,

doubt him, cast him off! Ah, his brain was weak
and totally incapable of translating written words he ;

would lay the letter aside he would force himself to take

;

nourishing food and plenty of champagne. Clearness of

brain would come to him, then he would read what she
had written the date of their wedding, her appeal to
:

come to him, as quickly as he could. And oh, wouldn t

he go? He would take the French steamer ten days
hence on her way up coast. Why had he not thought
of that sooner? Mbega and the Gabonaise could look
after the Cape Lopez factory and at his other factories
in the bush there were efficient, honest men. Yes,
326 HELL S PLAYGROUND
he would go home. He would not delay another mo
ment.
He shouted for Ngumbe and ordered him to pack up.
He summoned Mbega and the Gabonaise; he raised
Mbega s
wages ;
the Gabonaise would receive whatever
sum she might name for her services ; Huntingdon would
never again live in his bungalow, the Gabonaise could
have it. He would go to Marjorie at once; the voyage
would bring back his health and strength.
In his excitement he ate a hearty evening meal and
drank much. Over and over again he planned his im
mediate return to civilization. He
pictured Marjorie s
joy and delight at his early coming to her but what
words were those stealing through his brain advanc
ing and retreating like a thing of evil native wife :

and child marriage between you and me impossible

Pshaw, would Hell s Playground besiege him forever!
Make of his brain an implement of torture, of his
thoughts a constant inquisition !

He had other letters from civilization. He would

open them, he would prove conclusively that his brain
was incapable of lucid thought.
Prove? Why necessary to prove anything in regard
to Marjorie; he took her on faith alone, as she took
him. As she took him! Why should such a thought
come into being? Faith was part of his very soul, the
escutcheon of the noble houses of the Bedfords and
Granvilles ; faith, the lever which controlled their acts
and thoughts faith, without which life would be in
;

tolerable.Such faith was Marjorie s too; she had

sworn it!
There was a letter from his father; he would read
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 327

that. Strange that its meaning was perfectly clear ;

strange that it should be all about business and that ;

there was no mention of Marj orie or his mother

Quickly he tore open another letter, from his brother
Guy. It was also perfectly clear. Guy congratulated
him on his shipments and the big prices prevailing in
the European markets for African products yet there ;

was something strange in that letter too there was no

:

mention of Marj orie nor of his mother!

Marj orie Good God, was he sane after all and did
his brain correctly interpret her words
Over and over again he read her brief letter until it
was indelibly engraved on his brain and its meaning was
perfectly clear!
So unexpected, so heavy was the blow that he was
completely stunned.
Another day came before he was able to think calmly.
Marj orie had cast him off, why? Because he had
not written for several boats? Surety she would take
into consideration the uncertainty of letters sent from

far-away Africa, the probability of his illness and in

ability to write
Suddenly he jumped up with a mighty oath as the
thought struck home somebody had written slanderously
:

and maliciously and willfully about him to Marj orie!

That was not surprising, familiar as he was with the
malicious, slanderous gossip of the white aliens. No
crime was too dastardly for them to concoct! In the
heat of her indignation, Marj orie had cast him off. But
all would be well again. Marj orie would be tearfully re
pentant he would kiss away her tears her trust in him
; ;

would be deeper, her love for him greater, as is always

328 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the case when a woman has unjustly accused and
doubted the man she loves best.
But who could have been guilty of slandering him?
It lay only between two men: Moore and LeBlanc.
No, Moore would not do such a thing; it must have
been LeBlanc. The Frenchman imagined that the
Gabonaise was Huntingdon s and jealousy and
mistress

envy prompted the letter. Poor LeBlanc, to resort to

such ignoble means to harm a fellow man who had never

done aught to deserve such treachery But Hunting!

don held no animosity against the Frenchman he took ;

into consideration the smallness of his character ; his

perverted morals the pitiful condition to which Hell s

;

Playground had reduced him. But above all, everything

would be all right when he held Marjorie close in his arms

and explained everything to her. LeBlanc instead of

harming him would have brought him the additional
blessing of Marjorie s repentance and her subsequent
perpetual desire to make amends with unlimited love and
trust and confidence. No, he held no grudge against
LeBlanc.
Huntingdon imagined already en route from
letters

Marjorie, begging his pardon for her momentary doubt

of him. Of course, he would forgive. It was but
natural that she should doubt, then repent bitterly for

having so hastily condemned him. She was a woman,

entitled to theluxury of doubt, then to the subsequent
abject misery that would come to her because of that
doubt. After all, LeBlanc had done him a favor. Poor
LeBlanc! Never to know such love as was
perfect
Marjorie and Huntingdon s
s !

Buoyed up with hope and sure of Marjorie s repent-

 329

ance, Huntingdon walked back and forth along the

beach unmindful of the grilling heat and indifferent to
fatigue. But sundown brought exhaustion and deep
sleep. Suddenly, he found himself wide awake. In the
tense stillnessof the tropical night Huntingdon s

thoughts seemed to take voice and loud and bitterly they

attacked Marjorie.
Where was the faith she had sworn so repeatedly?
How dare she doubt his word and accept that of an

anonymous slanderer? How dare she put him down,

unheard, as a poltroon, a liar, all that was detestable?
Why did she not ignore the anonymous letter, as he
would have done. did she not keep her faith in him
Why
as he had kept his faith in her?
Ah, there was the great injustice! He had built

upon perfect faith and in his extremity he was treated

thus !He had given his word to be true, he had been
true, and God alone knew what torture he had endured,
how sick at heart, how lonely he had been, how his
senses had tortured him, how thoroughly spent he was
now!
And the woman for whom he had suffered a thousand
crucifixions had lightly cast him off with the dash of
a pen Ah, that was the hurt
! !

Injustice swelled deeply within Huntingdon and be

came an obsession. Over and over again he fanned its
flame and fed it fuel. That Marjorie should even as
sociate doubt in connection with him, that she would

permit an anonymous slanderer to cause her to cast him

forth as though he were the vilest of wretches, were
the tongues of fire that seared his very soul and grilled
it excruciatingly! Marjorie well knew how her words
330 HELL S PLAYGROUND
would crush him, how deeply she would cause him to
suffer, how cruelly she had outraged what
he held most
sacred : his honor and his faith ! She insulted his honor

willfully and deliberately on the word of passing slander !

Would he stoop to explanation, defense? Would he

recognize the hag, Slander, who ought to be instantly

throttled by all honorable people? He would not so

demean himself. He had pledged his word, that in itself
was enough to bid Slander begone; but Marjorie had
entertained Slander, had listened to her, had cast him
off at her bidding. If she placed Slander, and her first

cousin, Suspicion, above his plighted word, above his

honor, he would do naught to kill Slander or dispel
Suspicion. Marjorie had judged him unheard; she had
sentenced him to what she knew would be the keenest

suffering possible to a refined, human being. He dis

dained defense; he would submit silently and never by
word or action of his should she know the suffering she
caused him. Defense was for the guilty ;
he was inno
cent. He would live his life alone she had deliberately
;

and unjustly cast him off, she could go her wa}% he

would go his.
He tore up the letters he wrote her; with a curse he
cast them forth on the winds.
No tears did he shed; his
suffering was silent and
within.
His thoughts were his executioners. He could not ban
ish them either with drugs or absinthe. The
only thing
that could crush him
completely had descended upon
him, speeded by the hand of the woman he had so madly
and persistently worshiped. He was cast off,
ignomin-
iously, he was doubted oh, how he hated civilization
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 331

and its refined cruelties ! He never again cared to see

anybody belonging to it. The white race had dealt

him his death blow, he was done with it forever!

Day after day he sat upon the veranda and gazed into
space over the same Atlantic that washes England s
shore daily he grew more bitter against Marjorie;
where he loved he now hated intensely. Such injustice
as she had done him she for whom he had suffered so
long and painfully could never be forgotten nor for

given !

The revelries of the white men of Cape Lopez and

the natives came to him on the night s breezes. The
shouting, singing and tom-tom, beating no longer pained
him. Nor did he blame the white men for seeking diver
sion from
self and soul-torturing introspection. Per
haps they had come just such a cropper as he had in

the game of Man

should never judge another
love.

unless he can put himself in that other s placet

If Huntingdon were lonely, miserable, before, what
was he now that beacon of love and hope was ex
his

tinguished? A
ship without a rudder, an alien in a
hostile land, a shuttlecock to be battledored as Africa
willed !

Huntingdon brooded, he fed daily on life s very

forces. He sought no diversion each day brought
him more acute misery.
Life ceased to be endurance it was one long-drawn-

out agony.
He saw Cape Lopez in its true light. It seemed the
end of the world, the epitome of all that is
depressing
and annihilating.
And he had once thought it beautiful !
332 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Twas raining. The whole earth exuded moisture and
sobbed from the sheer misery of it all; the sun, the

ravager, reigned supreme. He murdered and tortured.

Even torrential rains were impotent to quench Nature s
parched throat. Africa sizzled The sands of the
!

beach were as waves of heat ;

the very breeze seemed on
fire.

Huntingdon knew what would follow the rains. All

vegetation would become parched, scorched, lifeless.
Woods and plains would burst forth in flame, the air
would fill with
choking, offensive smoke And he had !

once thought forest fires magnificent, the odor of burn

ing brush delightful incense!

Many a white man went down in the fight. At Cape
Lopez another Douane and the Chef de Poste went
under. From the bush and throughout all Africa came
news of the death of white aliens.
A from old Wallace reported Longworthy
letter

seriously ill with smallpox; Cartright dead from sun

stroke; little Hertford a victim of a cobra s bite, and
Wallace himself just over an
unusually severe dose of
fever. He advised Huntingdon to let Africa and her
wealth go to hell and to return at once to civilization
before it was too late.

The West African Mail announced the death of Cap

tain Haywood. Cause unknown.
The White Man s Grave
yawned wide !

Huntingdon peered into the cavern.

But Hell s Playground sportedwith him. She would
not give him his cachet.
He lived on and on, his
suffering, his sensibilities
growing greater!
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 333

The Gabonaise again sought the witch doctor in his

town.
I have paid you black wood and ivory and gold to
"

buy the Great White King s love and you have failed,"
she complained ominously.
I have not failed," confidently answered the
"

Nganga.
"

The magic I gave you is all powerful not even a

white king can prevail against it. But it will not work
"

until until
Until imperiously interrupted the Gabonaise.
"

what,"
"

Take care, don t fool with me," and her eyes blazed

disclosing such hideous possibilities that even the sorcerer

trembled. But he too was working for a great prize.
The animalism of the Gabonaise had called forth his
in all its savage intensity. The Gabonaise must be his.
"

Until you pay more said the Nganga,

slowly.
"

Palm-kernels, palm-wine, skins, ivories, wood

began the Gabonaise, but the witch doctor interrupted:
I want none of these things. I have more wealth
"

now than the white man will ever possess were he to live
to be as old as the nchinas, 1 in the jungles, or Mboomba, 2
the great, fiery snake that lives for the sky, after the
rain falls."

"

What then can Ndio, the Gabonaise, give to the

Nganga of the Ouroungoes in exchange for the Great

White King s love?"
Ndio is a Gabonaise, of the powerful and mighty
"

Mpangwes, to whom the Ouroungoes are but slaves. The

Ouroungoes can buy other woman, but a Gabonaise has
never mated with an inferior. Now, Ndio, the Gabo-
i
Monkeys. 2 Rainbow.
334 HELL S PLAYGROUND
week as the wife of
naise shall live in the forest for one
the Nganga of the Ouroungoes and the love magic will

work at once. The Great White King will no longer

resist Ndio, the Gabonaise. She will possess him through
number that
Dry Seasons and Wet Seasons so many
in

the Nganga of the Ouroungoes, with all his magic, canr-

not count them."

Ndio s eyes blazed! Her fingers twitched ominously

at the demand of the Nganga! But his last words won
her completely.
She did not hesitate.
Ndio, the Gabonaise, will come here to-night and
"

for one week she shall be the wife of the Nganga of the

Ouroungoes. But if in that time the Great White King

isnot hers, the Nganga of the Ouroungoes shall have no
charm to withstand the wrath of the Gabonaise! You
know my people, the Mpangwcs! We brook no decep
tion our cunning will snare you e en though Mboomba
her protecting coils
"

herself wrapped you in !

The sorcerer watched her go, his sensual lips pressed

closely together.
He was sure of success. Unless the white man should

bring death upon himself, Africa would claim him for

ever Africa never capitulated, never compromised.
;
She
ruled !

In the week that followed, Huntingdon s life forces

were at their lowest ebb.
There was not a breath of air, and, save when lashed
by torrential rain, the sea lay smooth as polished jet,
blinding, and heat reflecting.
Huntingdon was unclean, disheveled, unrecognizable.
Great spiders, clammy lizards, fat, disgusting roaches,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 335

wasps, flies, mosquitoes, and scorpions besieged him, yet

he felt them not. His astral body alone was there it

possessed no sense, no feeling. Dull incessant pain had

strangled thought and silenced memory !

Ah, if such inanition would only lash, but the winds

of reality again blew on Huntingdon and lashed him
into life, into feeling.

Stifling though the heat and humidity were, he

shivered with cold. Rivers of ice rushed madly through
his arteries, restoring his sensibility to pain.

Forget you, my Love of Loves, I should forget to

breathe first,
the litany that had so long sustained him
and gave him the courage to fight on, began to throb
continuously through his brain, mockingly and de
risively. It brought a new agony all its own. O er him
again swept misery the misery that had en
infinite ;

gulfed Smithson the night he left for the Ogowe and

his death.
Death! Did it silence all memory, all thought, or
would he continue to hear Forget you, my Love of
:

Loves ? He could endure no longer. He called loud

for absinthe.
The liquor brought short-lived exhilaration ; then

languor gradually, acute consciousness again returned

; ;

memory awoke the hateful litany again obsessed and

;

tortured, accompanied by the mournful sob of the sea

and the eternal sighing of the giant cocoanut-palms.
Dead men s bones, Smithson had called the latter. They
were indeed fitting sentinels for that tiny spot up there
on the beach which covered up all that was mortal of
white aliens who had thought to successfully combat.
Hell s Playground!
336

burial ground beckoned it was ready

for
The little ;

another white man ; the sand was flat on the last grave
and scrub grass fought for life in the arid surroundings
beneath the pitiless sun. Moore would bury him -
Slowly Huntingdon went
within his bungalow.
"

he questioned of a Derringer.
"
Shall "

Repose?
I find theNirvana of the Hindus the only oblivion I

care for: no thoughts, no memories, a cessation of all

"

sensations ?

Deliberately he placed the pistol

under his ear. But
mental had made him hypersensitive to touch.
anguish
The heat of the metal burned his tender flesh. He
shrank from it.

He his temple, laid the

pulled his heavy hair over
pistol thereon and pulled
the trigger !

No explosion followed!
The pistol was jammed from excessive humidity and
do what he would he could not raise the hammer !

He laughed aloud like a crazy man and hurled

the weapon from him.
Even death refused to come at his bidding !

Again he dragged himself to the veranda.

He was exhausted from his attempt at suicide.
For a long time, he lay with his eyes closed. He
slept, tobe awakened by the call of the inrushing sea.
Ah, there was rest he would seek it. Why had he not
;

thought of it sooner? He essayed to rise, determined

to plunge into the water s
depths, but, alas, power of
locomotion had left him ; his brain alone was active and
the sea took the litany he so thoroughly detested.
up
Rage then possessed him and over and over again he
shrieked defiantly towards the For-
offending waters:
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 337

get you, my Love of Loves, I would forget to breathe

"

first!
The vocal expression brought him a sort of relief and

again languor and inertia gripped him.

Gradually, another, a soothing sound, penetrated his
senses. After a time he knew them to be the mellifluous
tones of a woman s voice they came to him like celestial
;

music vibrating through perfumed space. Was the end

near, release at hand? So fervently did he wish for
death, that he sat up, opened his eyes and calmly
awaited his dissolution.
Great was his disappointment when he discovered the
source of the sounds he thought were celestial.
It was the voice of the Gabonaise who was trading
with some Nkomi women from the Rembo. Never be
fore had Huntingdon recognized the soft music in the
voice of the Gabonaise;it soothed and attracted him.

He gave himself up to its enjoyment. With interest he

studied the woman, and for the first time her unusual

personality impressed itself upon him.

No more effective contrast could have been chosen to
set off her superiority, elegance and beauty. She was
as a queen among the low-statured, ugly, flat-breasted,

prematurely old bushwomen. She radiated magnetism ;

they repelled.
The Gabonaise wore only a pagne, the native dress
composed of a simple strip of cloth. But it was not
soiled, crumpled, and wound indifferently about the
waist, as is usual with the
savages. It was of soft, pale,

yellow silk and was brought tightly across the bust and
ended at the ankles. A curiously twisted knot over the
left breast held it in place. It suggested a form perfect
338 HELL S PLAYGROUND
in sensuous symmetry, while its color heightened the
in the sunlight
beauty of the smooth skin that glistened
like polishedmahogany. Suddenly she gazed at Hunt
ingdon, then advanced toward
him with the slow, lang
uorous abandon which is the heritage of the savage
woman of the torrid zone.
She handed him a voucher to sign.
Henoticed her slim, elegant hands the tapering, ;

nails
supple fingers the filbert-shaped, highly polished
; ;

the exquisite, slender throat, and rounded arms.

He
glanced at her feet. Their nails, instead of being
broken and unsightly like those of the savage, were per
fect and well cared for. Nor was she barefooted like
the savage. She wore Morocco sandals of richly deco
rated leather, in which the red and yellow predominated.

Her being woolly and unkempt, was

hair, instead of

becomingly arranged in a soft roll on either side of a

small, exquisitely poised head, and ornamented with pins
of carved ivory inlaid with ebony.

Huntingdon could not see her eyes. They were

masked by the lowered But he noticed the long,
lids.

silken, curling lashes the petulant curve to the short

;

upper lip, so foreign to the negro mouth the gleam of ;

small, white, perfect teeth, and the deep cleft in a

rounded chin.
"

LeBlanc is mused Huntingdon

right," idly,
"

the
Gabonmse is all he painted her and more."
Listlessness again overpowered him.
The voucher, unsigned, fluttered to the floor.
The Gabonaise bent gracefully and easily, picked up
the voucher, signed it herself, and moved
away.
One moment, please
"

!
"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 339

Huntingdon did not call her by name. He had never

addressed her in a personal manner.
The Gabonaise turned, came towards him, her chin
tilted,her eyes a mere glint through the almost com
pletely lowered lids.
"

How long have you been signing my vouchers? "

"

For many moons, Monsieur Huntingdon," was the

answer in those well modulated, beautiful tones that had
charmed him a few moments before. But what struck
him most was the Monsieur Huntingdon. It was un
usual on the lips of a native. Even the chiefs and kings
addressed the whiteman as master, or If ing!
vouchers is no business of
" "

Signing yours said !

Huntingdon rather severch\ I would rather you took

"

no part in my affairs. I have already shown my ap

preciation for your services during my illness and your
supervision of my household. You will please concern
yourself no more about my business."

The Gabonaise made no reply, but her eyes flashed

wide open, as she turned and slowly, majestically, passed
out of sight.
Such eyes Huntingdon had never before seen an}^-
thing like them. The} Avere large, dark, lustrous, in
r

tense, mysterious. With what scorn they had looked

at him Yet how the} beckoned, promised, denied
! !

They confessed much they hid more. In them lay a

;

woman s soul, fathomless, inscrutable, fascinating, com

pelling !

Weak, miserable and almost dead though he was, those

eyes pierced innermost being.

his His pulse beat a
trifle faster, his blood flowed
slightly stronger, yet no
desire smote his senses.
340 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Fate, however, was steadily weaving her web. She

pulled on the strings of perception,

she commenced a
newer, a brighter design completed and left behind was
;

dull introspection. The Siren of Interest threaded the

bobbin.
Two days later as Huntingdon went in to luncheon,
the Gabonaise disappeared, after having seen that every

thing was in order.

For the first time Huntingdon noticed the monogram
embroidered in his table linen, the excellence of his table
and its
appointments. The china and silver and glass
ware shone. The napery was perfectly laundered.
There was a center piece of rich purple irises, glistening
with the dew of the forest.
The books on the shelves were evenly arranged.
There was a new shade for the lamp. The floor was
clean. New mats were thrown on it and there were
dainty, white Swiss curtains at the windows.
Everywhere were traces of a woman s care and at
tention.

Ngumbe was again clothed in decent white ducks.

He stood behind his master s chair. He served him
intelligently and well.
For the first time in months,
Huntingdon relished his
food.
"

Makaya is improving in cooking," he remarked as

Ngumbe gave him a second portion of mullet. This "

fish is cooked."
deliciously
"

never done him, Master.

Makaya It be them Gabo-
naise. She savvy cook palaver, She
plenty, plenty.
be proper woman far them
past Ouroungoes. She learn
from them Merican mission at Libreville."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 341

Huntingdon ate the rest of his luncheon in silence.

The coffee served, Ngumbe disappeared, as was his
wont, to eat his chop.
All was still the heavy, oppressive stillness of mid
day tropical Africa. There wasn t a breath of air nor
sound of life. Huntingdon seemed to be the only one
alive on the entire planet.
Suddenly, an overwhelming desire for companionship
swept over and convulsed him.
He groaned aloud in his misery. The cry was wrung
from him, nor was he conscious of its utterance until
the Gabonaise bent over him.

Huntingdon, you are

"

ill t
"

she cried impulsively.

In the voice of the Gabon-aise was an ocean of sym
pathy, in her wondrous eyes was tenderness, in her
presence was companionship!
Yet she touched him not; she dared not; she knew
that all advances must come from him.

Huntingdon turned towards her as naturally as does

the sunflower to the sun god.
Were you ever ill? * he demanded.
"

never
"

Ndio, the Gabonaise, is ill."

She pronounced it An-dee-o, and she spoke softly,

slowly, languorously, musically.
Sick never ketch her skin.
"

Look."

She took his hand and rubbed it over her polished

flesh. It was smooth and firm, and, wonderful to relate,
cool.
"

The Ouroungo woman never beautiful like Ndio.

Monsieur Huntingdon, the Gabonaise has sent the fever
from your skin, now you fit to let Ndio mek your skin
342 HELL S PLAYGROUND
all same like hers ?
"

she coaxed as though he were a

child.

Huntingdon could not help but smile.

Sit down, if you please, and

"
tell me about it,"

He brought forth a chair for her. But she preferred

a cushion at his feet.

Her beautiful arms rested on his knees and she looked
up into his face.

Suddenly, he drew away.

The eyes of the Gabonaise dropped and she said,
sadly :

"

White man never love black woman." Then she

reared her head, proudly :
"

Me, I be Gabonaise.
Princess for my country. The French Governor for
Gaboon has sent for me. I never go, I stay here for

Monsieur Huntingdon. The Commandant of Cape

Lopez, he send me plenty cadeaux all time, every day.
I say no I stay for Monsieur Huntingdon. And
Monsieur Huntingdon, he never love the Gabonaise.
La paurre An-dee-o! "

She was like a spoiled child.

Huntingdon laid his hand on her head and said

kindly :

The white man does love the Gabonaise but he does

not love the trade perfume she wears. It makes white
man sick."

1
He
"

I never hear him, Monsieur Huntingdon. no

be good? "

Not for Ndio, the Gabonaise Princess."

She drew away from him, and he
imagined tears in
her eyes.
i Smell.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 343

"

Wait," he said.
He went into his bedroom and returned with French
violet water.
He poured some of it on her hand and bade her smell
of it.
"

not sweet, sweet past trade scent?

Is it he asked. "

She sniffed vigorously. He noticed that her nose was

flat, ugly, decidedly negroid. Yet her other features
more than compensated therefor.
"

I never hear him, Monsieur Huntingdon, I never

hear him."

"

Let the Gabonmse take it and when she comes to

Monsieur Huntingdon again, let him never hear them
trade scent. It no be proper fine for Ndio, the Gabo-
naise Princess."

He turned from her, but she placed her hand on his

arm, looked into his face, and said plaintively in a voice
that thrilled his senses :

"

You savvy what Ndio, the Gabonaise, go mek for

you?"

He shook his head. He watched the shadows come

and go her mysterious eyes.
in He noticed that they
were flecked with brown after the manner of her race.

Again she took his hand and rubbed it slowly over

her arm :

"

I mek medceen.
put him for skin so and
I
"

she vigorously rubbed the back of Huntingdon s hand.

Monsieur Huntingdon get all same like Ndio, the
"

Gabonaise."

The friction sent a thrill of pleasure through Hunt

ingdon.
He bade her go get the medicine and bring it to him.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
All afternoon he waited for her. She did not come.
There was no sign of her at dinner time, nor at ten
o clock, when Ngumbe left him for the night.

Again Huntingdon was thoroughly depressed. The

night was suffocatingly hot
and it was raining.
His thoughts were on the Gabonaise. He remembered
the touch of her hand, the thrill of new life she sent

through him. He wished she were there now. He would

talk to her. Her
was so soothing. She was
voice

naive, refreshing, decidedly picturesque and above all

companionable He was tired of being alone. Tired

!

of his own society.

He was delighted when she appeared.
She walked straight to him, put her head under his
nose and said:
"

You hear them scent? He live."

She must have employed the whole bottle of French

violet water.It was strong but vastly better than the
rank trade stuff.

Huntingdon was in his resting room on the veranda.

The bamboo shades were closely drawn and locked. A
lamp, with a rose-colored shade, sent forth a soft glow.
The Gabonaise wore a pale blue pagne of soft silk,
and yellow sandals. They were
exceedingly becoming,
and Huntingdon s artistic sense was aroused. She was
decidedly good to look upon.
From the folds of her pagne, the Gabonaise drew a
bottle.
*
Ndio herself go for bush myself and mek medceen
for Monsieur
Huntingdon. Rain ketch the skin of
Ndio; bush he mek Ndio so."

She pulled up her

pagne, disclosing a deep scratch
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 345

just below the knee. She appeared as artless as a child.

She took away the pillows from the couch.
Monsieur Huntingdon must lie down all same like
"

baby, and Ndio, the Gabonaise, be fit for mek him strong
all same first time Ndio look him."

Huntingdon was in the shadows studying her. The

glow of the lamp fell upon her. It glinted along her

rich, smooth skin. It hunted out the perfect symmetry

of her undraped neck and arms. She was indeed good
to look upon!
She was trying to pull the cork from the bottle with
her teeth.
"

Allow me," he said.

He took the bottle and removed the cork. He looked

into her face. No
emotion showed upon it. Her teeth
gleamed small, white, perfect through her parted lips
and the cleft in her chin so very unusual in a savage,
fascinated him.
"

The Gabonaise must not spoil her beautiful teeth by

pulling corks with them."

"

No? "

she questioned.

Suddenly it came to Huntingdon that he would like

to teach this woman something. She was extremely

perceptive and fascinating and young yes, she
was very fascinating and healthy.
For the first time in months, weariness did not possess

Huntingdon. It had fled from him. He had some

thing to interest him. He had found companionship.
He would not permit her to massage him. He would
take her ointment and use it himself. Perhaps, just
perhaps, he would permit Ngumbe to rub him.
Twas raining very hard.
546 HELL S PLAYGROUND
How still it was and sticky and hot !

He must have air, even though the rain beat in.

He went toopen a shutter.

From a table he knocked down something. He picked
itup. Twos a brass paperweight Marjorie had given
that
him. He thought he had destroyed everything
would remind him of her. The paperweight awakened
memories and hell !

Hethrew the weight into black night, deliberately and

firmly he closed the
shutters and locked them.
The Gabonaise still stood where the rays of the lamp
fell full Her pagne had slipped exposing a
upon her.

small, perfectly molded breast!

You re ready now, Monsieur Huntingdon, for the
"

med she began, but Huntingdon s answer was to

"

take her in his arms and press his lips to hers.

The Gabonaise rejoiced, secure in the belief that the

charms of the sorcerer had brought about Huntingdon s

surrender.

Huntingdon spent a great deal of time with the Gab

onaise, but he did not permit her to reside in his house
nor to dine with him.
She had quarters of her own. Nor did he permit her
to continue to engage in active trade.
He regained his health, and again took personal hold
of his business. He was surprised how large it had
grown under the management of the Gabonaise, The
only thing that was neglected was his correspondence.
But his father understood why that was Huntingdon
had written him of his illness.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 347

His father had answered, and, delicately hinting that,

as there was no need of immediate return to civilization,
if his health permitted, the wise thing to do was to try
to get possession of other French concessions ; to branch
out in every possible way. If he needed more clerks,

they would be sent out. Huntingdon was not again to

overtax his strength. In a year he would doubtless
have so enlarged the business and so strengthened it,

that he could then return with safety to England.

Huntingdon read between the lines.

His father wished to save him the pain of returning
to England so soon after his broken engagement. He
also wished to bring before him the trust reposed in him
by the men who had given the capital for his enterprise.

Huntingdon s reply to his father was honest and frank.

You know, dear Governor, what it means to us to love

and then to lose through no fault of our own. I
was as true to my troth as you have been to my mother
as we Huntingdon* and Bedfords and Granvilles have

always been to our women. I could not control slander.

Had I erred, I might have put up a defense, but
to be condemned on hearsay but, you know, dear old
Governor, YOU know!
I am enjoying the best of health thanks to a native
woman. The one who nursed me before when I was ill
the one who was then nothing to me but who is
now all that I care to find in a woman. You will know
what to say to the mater. My
stay here is indefinite.
I am preparing a report for our stockholders. The next
shipment will surprise you. It more than makes up for
missed shipments during my illness. Business shall not
348 HELL S PLAYGROUND
suffer as you, know. I have a trust to perform no
man shall lose money through me. Do not fear for me.
Iam happier and more healthy than I ever expected to
be again.
 FOUR years passed away.
Huntingdon was thirty-five years of age, the most
attractive, healthful, successful and envied white man on
the entire west coast.
The Gabonaise was twenty -two, at the zenith of her

beauty and power. She lived like a queen attended by

herown servants and slaves.
Her English was as pure as Huntingdon s.

She took on his habits of cleanliness and order. She

him with the perfect mimicry of the savage.
reflected
She was wonderfully intuitive. She knew when to speak,
when to remain silent, when to steal away. She satis
fied every portion of Huntingdon s sensitive, nervous,
amorous being. He
understood \vhy Anthony was con
tent with Cleopatra while Actium wrote his downfall.
Africa was no longer the cruel, the relentless. Her
long wets and pitiless sun held no terrors for Hunting
don. The Gabonaise blotted out everything else.
She read to him. She read slowly and spelled out
many of the difficult words. Her voice was sweet and
low, and her pronunciation of French words piquant
and fascinating.
He gave her everything she wished for and more.
She chose the most brilliant colors for her personal
adornment, but, like flowers in Nature s uncultivated
garden, the colors blended harmoniously. They empha
sized the smooth, rich beauty of the woman s skin, and
349
350 HELL S PLAYGROUND
enhanced her savage individuality. She was beautiful,
regal, irresistible !

She had many exquisite pieces of jewelry, but the

one which delighted Huntingdon most was a broad, gold
anklet set with a large pigeon blood ruby, clear and
alive asnewly shed blood. He had the anklet made in
Ashanti, and welded it on himself that it might forever
adorn the curve for which it was fashioned.
He took delight in attending to business during cer
tain hours of the day for he never neglected it. Other
times, he found companionship, a wealth of sympathy
and love in the Gabonaise. He had
long since lost sight
of her color. She was his other self. He could not
live without her.
He had indeed cast his lot with Africa.
Huntingdon bungalow continued the cleanest, most
s

homelike and attractive on the whole west coast. Hunt

ingdon enjoyed life where the other white men simply
existed. Many had come and gone during the four
years: some returned to Europe, the majority a victim
of Africa s malice. But LeBlanc, the French trader,
Wildman, the Swiss, little Sadler, and Moore, were left.
While the servants of the other white men robbed their
masters and neglected their duties,
Huntingdon s goods
were guarded by Mbega and his servants
kept up to the
mark by the watchful Gabonaise.
When stray guests came from European steamers and
accepted Huntingdon s hospitality, the Gabonaise re
mained out of sight. She never thrust herself forward.
Not an article
belonging to a woman betrayed her pres
ence.
Had Huntingdon and the black woman been united
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 351

by the bonds of Holy Church, he could not have been

more faithful to her, nor more solicitous of her honor or
comforts.
The Gabonaise was hated by the Ouroungoes, espe

cially the women, and coveted by all white men who

saw her.
The latter quarreled with Huntingdon for permitting
the Gabonaise to continue in the dress of her people.

They said it was bold to see her parading about with

undraped neck, shoulders and arms. But Huntingdon
saw no immodesty in her retention of the only drapery
she ever knew. In his eyes that which is natural is

neither immoral nor immodest.

The white men could not say wicked enough things
against the Gabonaise. They prophesied Huntingdon s
betrayal at her hands ; they repeated to him all sorts
of gossip.
But jeers, jibes and gossip hadn t any effect upon
Huntingdon. He believed in the Gabonaise, he trusted
her, he was faithful to her.

Huntingdon lived an Utopian existence. Civilization

and the other life seemed so far away that had no ex it

istence. The woman who had caused him suffer

white

ing and perpetual exile was forgotten.

Huntingdon was transcendentallv happy. He loved,
he was loved he trusted and his trust was reciprocated.
;

But change is the order of nature, and change was

at hand.
The silvery rays of a full and brilliant moon enhanced
the witchery of the equatorial African night.
The waters of Lopez Bay chanted a rhythmic cadence,
which, borne on Night s
gentle wings, pulsated o er the
352 HELL S PLAYGROUND
earth, while Venus, seductively tender in all the glory
of her majestic ascendency, stole the vigor from the
arteries ofmen and left therein the languorous sweet
ness of desire.
The narcotic of love was everywhere. It hid in the

graceful, drooping fronds of the giant cocoanut-palms,

whose very depends upon the sandy
life soil that marks
the ocean s path and the salty mist of its waters. It
lurked in the short, stubble, sun-burned grass, which

against the sand s opposition fought a daily battle for

existence. It slumbered in the broad, dull-green foliage

of the motherly mango tree, whose fruit needs the

passionate embraces of Africa s sun to charm it into
maturity. It permeated all things animate and inan
imate. It created a veritable Lotus-land wherein man
and beast, bird and insect succumbed to its irresistible
enchantment.
On the roomy, comfortable veranda
overlooking the
bay, Huntingdon and LeBlanc, the French trader,
lounged in great, easy Madeira chairs.
For an hour the men exchanged no words.
They
were enthralled by and enchanted with the
witchery of
it all.

Finally Huntingdon sighed:

"

A
divine night, LeBlanc, a
night for love. What
can be more delicious than Africa at this moment? No
other land in the world is like it nowhere else are
the heavens such a blue-black
hue, the planets so bril
liant and so near, the stars so like the
eyes of the
woman we love living, :
intense "

palpitating, !

Huntingdon stretched himself, lazily.

There was another silence.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 353

Overhead the giant cocoanut-palms swayed to and fro,

gently brushing the roof of the bungalow.
"

The music of a woman s sighed LeBlanc,

skirts,"

glancing upward.
"

Shall I ever hear it again, in

"

civilization ?

Regrets on a night like this Ah, LeBlanc. Open

"

wide your senses. Breathe in the delights of this Lotus-

land. Hold the caressing hours while you may. They
will not always last. Isn t your mistress adorable, all

you desire in women ?

"

LeBlanc did not answer.

Look at Venus, old man.
"

Is she not transcendent-

ally beautiful? In such contrast to cold, proud Diane.
Stateliness is all right at a distance but give me
Venus. She radiates life, desire. Diane is so cold, un
responsive. Zeus ! what must life be tied to an unre

sponsive woman, eh, LeBlanc? creature sans soul, sans A

emotion, sans everything ardent man desires. Give me
intensity,LeBlanc, throbbing, passionate expression, all
enthralling! Ah, they are mine, LeBlanc, they are
mine !
"

LeBlanc lighted a cigarette and quoted indolently :

Those whom the gods would destroy, they

"

first
blind."

-
you old frog
"Croak, tis but a confession that

something s wanting in your love-palaver. Satisfied

love never croaks. It exults, it glories. For satisfac
tion means love requited, and where ardent natures meet
in full flood time, there alone is paradise."

LeBlanc leaned far back in his chaise longue and gazed

at the stars.
"

My dear Huntingdon, some women, like some stars,

554 HELL S PLAYGROUND
are so brilliant they blind. Think you that man can
look unceasingly upon love s burning flame without los

ing the keenest edge from his perceptions?

"

He might have to close his eyes, friend LeBlanc, the

"

flame might be so intense. But love would have so finely

attuned his other senses, that sight would not be missed.
But, please, don t croak on a night like this, you old
frog. Again let me counsel you to throw wide open
the valves of your senses. Breathe in the soft,
languor
ous seduction of the moment. Oh, African nights, so
yet so palpitatingly intense
"

infinitely tranquil, !

"

Bah," and LeBlanc let fall the cigarette from his

lips.
"

Confess, old man, isn t Africa just now surcharged

with love, with desire, with seductive witchery ? "

The appreciation of nature s beauties depends

"

upon
whether or not your senses are kept satisfied."
"

Ah, ha, LeBlanc, you re not such a croak, then,

as you would have me believe. Seven years ago it was
you who were the voluptuary, throbbing with inten
sity"
"

And you drew away disgusted. You "

"

I know, LeBlanc. How you old coasters must

have laughed at me ! I don t wonder you left me to go
it alone. I was a silly I imagined I could dominate
ass.

throbbing, passionate Africa with cold, English will.

I was punished for don t think for a mo
my folly
ment I wasn t. But don t let s talk of
unpleasant things.
See how the full, tropical moon idealizes
everything!
The sand is as a thread of silver, a
path in the land of
heart s desire
"

"It s with jiggers "

filthy, stinking, filled

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 355

"

The air, how soft, balmy, it is a breath of Ar-

"

cady
" "

It s fever-laden, dangerous
"

The how
softly they murmur, like Undines
waters,
longing to escape to the arms of their lovers
"

Crying to escape treacherous sharks, you mean.

"

Yes, I grant you, our senses rule us. We can read

poetry in mud and slime if our senses are satisfied."

"

You
admit, too, won t you, LeBlanc, that this
ll

languor is sweet, this somnambulance seductive? That

Africa is the land of heart s desire, of sensual delights,
an Eden of intoxicating splendor !
"

The Frenchman made no response.

Huntingdon drew a long breath and closed his eyes.
Again languorous silence fell, and both men lay out
stretched upon their low, comfortable chairs. Abruptly,
Huntingdon jumped up.
It was a sign of dismissal to the Frenchman.

something I ve got
"

Sit down, Huntingdon, there s

"

to say toyou !

LeBlanc s command was so peremptory, so unexpected,

so out of keeping with the time, the place, that Hunting
don was startled into obedience.
Yet he could not come out of his Lotus-land without
some protest.
"

Ah, LeBlanc, there is never an Eden without its

serpent never a gladsome dawn without its night never

; ;

a tranquil hour without its tempest never harmony, but ;

discord must creep in. But can t the matter wait until
some other time? To-morrow, for example, in the full
glare of the pitiless sunlight, when realities are real and
dreams do not float abroad? "
356 HELL S PLAYGROUND
No, it can t wait," LeBlanc answered, harshly.
"

"

Out with it then, old man. Let s have it over and

done with." And Huntingdon resigned himself to listen
to some gossiping tale.

It ll soon be out but, as to its being over and done

"

with that rests with you."

LeBlanc looked closely at Huntingdon.

A peculiar numbness
crept over the Englishman. The
revelation had to do with Ndio. Nothing else could
affect him so strangely, so vitally. Heretofore he had
manifested such displeasure at any mention of the Gab-
onaise that for some time no complaints against her had
reached him. Were those complaints to be revived?
Must he again silence them?
"

Go on, LeBlanc," he said in a low, tense tone. "

But
take care. If you attack anyone belonging to me, you
attack me, and when you attack me, I defend myself.
Africa has taught me to strike swiftly and surely.
You re warned, now go on."

The Frenchman bent low over the table and looked

straight into the eyes of the Englishman.
The night was as bright as day. Plainly visible were
the expressions on the faces of both men.
There was a pause a slight pause. It emphasized
the more what the Frenchman was about to say.
Huntingdon, I m damned if I stand by any longer
"

and see the Gabonaise make a fool of "

you !

He spoke confidentially, as a man sure of himself and

the truth of his statement.
But Huntingdon had heard LeBlanc
speak so before ;

he was known as the most

vituperous gossip in the entire
French Congo. Huntingdon also recalled his suspicion
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 357

that it was LeBlanc who had written Marjorie causing

her to cast him off, which suspicion Huntingdon had
never hinted to LeBlanc ; he would not give him that
satisfaction. Nor did anyone in Cape Lopez know
that Huntingdon had been jilted. They thought he
had succumbed to Africa and could not tear himself
away from its freedom and license. But Huntingdon
had suffered enough from LeBlanc. He would silence
him once and for all. He would listen to no further
slander against the Gabonaise. She was his, his was
the duty to protect her, to see that she was respected.
Look here, LeBlanc," he said grimly, you are my
" "

guest and I owe you deference, but I will not permit you
to slander the Gabonaise. She has proved herself worthy
of my trust in her. You will offend me past forgive
ness if
I ll have to offend you then, friend Huntingdon,"
"

LeBlanc interrupted, for I don t intend to stand

"

silently by and see you sold out for a nigger!

"

Before that unexpected term of opprobrium, and all

that men, white and black, consider vile, Huntingdon

sharply recoiled, stung to the very quick, then he arose

and leaned over the Frenchman threateningly.
"

Take care, LeBlanc, men have bitten the dust for a

less insult than that ;
take care !
"

Huntingdon s voice vibrated with suppression, and

his eyes blazed dangerously, but the Frenchman arose,
faced Huntingdon, and said coolly:
"Call the Loango!"

Again Huntingdon recoiled. The Loango, a slave,

a menial, his cook, and his adored Gabonaise! Ah, such
a thing could not be true !
358 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

You he cried nervously. You know

lie, LeBlanc,"
"

want me to discard the woman that you might gain

you
her. Take your tales elsewhere. I never again want
you to cross my threshold never again speak to me."
The Frenchman was never so debonnaire as he an

swered :

Heroics are Huntingdon, in defense of a

"

all right,

woman of the proper sort, but, man, you are not dealing
with a civilized woman, with a woman of refined feelings.
You ve to do with the savage. Some of them may be
beautiful and all of them are more or less intense, yet
they are ignorant of sentimental emotions. They are
all animal, carnal. No matter what brutes we white
men might become, we are not brute enough for black
women. This woman has sold you out for a nigger.
It s
up to you whether you stand for it, or not."

Huntingdon took the wrist of the Frenchman in a

grasp of iron.
"

If you re lying, LeBlanc, I ll kill you."

The Frenchman shook him off.

I don t care a damn for your threats.
"

I ll take all
that s due me if I m lying. Call the Loango!
"

Three sharp, furious blasts rang out from

Hunting
don s whistle.
The Englishman waited, grim, silent.
The Frenchman nonchalantly lighted a fresh cigarette,
poured out some absinthe, and muttered lightly:
"

Toujours les femmes; toujours le meme chose"

The Loango slouched on to the veranda, and the
Frenchman commanded sternly :

"

Loango, tell your master about the Gabonaise!

"

Taken by surprise the Loango groveled on the floor.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 359

Never before did he appear so mean, undersized and

repulsive.
"

Get up, slave," thundered the Frenchman, kicking

him in the face.
The Loango slowly staggered to his feet, but fear
held him mute.
LeBlanc hit him savagely between the eyes with his

closed fist.

The slave brushed away the spurting blood and opened

his mouth to speak, but he was so slow, that LeBlanc
raged :

Tell your master whose woman them Gabonaise be ?

" "

"

Him be mine," the wretch faltered.

"

How long she be so?

"

relentlessly demanded the

Frenchman.
Since last dry season
"

ketch."

The Frenchman spat disgustedly, then demanded of

Huntingdon :

"

What
think you now of la belle Gabonaise, your fine
"

queen, your Circe noire?

Huntingdon made no answer.
The soul within him died. He was as a thing without

power save to feel the acutest agony that ever seared

a sensitive nature. The blood left his heart drop by
drop, each drop a hotter iron burning deeper into his
very being. As a thing of stone he stood in the moon
light an inanimate pillar, its interior being slowly
done to death !

The Frenchman kicked the Loango and sent him fly

ing from the veranda into the sand.

The slave hugged closer the earth not because of
any new blows that might descend upon him from the
360 HELL S PLAYGROUND
nervous Frenchman, but at thought of the punishment
that would come from his pale, silent master. He died
a thousand deaths awaiting the descent of his death
blow. He was sure the Englishman would take his
life.

With an Huntingdon pulled himself together.

effort,

Thanks, LeBlanc," he said, dismissing the French

"

man.
"

Don t mention it, Monsieur Huntingdon. Had it

been a white man I never would have told you. But I

won t let you be sold out to a nigger."
The Frenchman went up the beach, whistling.
Come! and Huntingdon motioned the Loango out
" "

into the moonlight.

The wretch slinked after him.
 CHAPTER XXII
IN her bamboo house, at the forest s edge, and out
stretched upon a soft blanket of brilliant silk and wool,
lay the Gabonaise, sensuously relaxed and with closed
eyes. At her feet was curled a young gazelle; at her
head on a great crosstree of curiously wrought teak
wood was perched a gorgeous peacock; on the back of
an ebony chair a gray parrot dozed.
The Gabonaise would have tempted the most austere
anchorite had he gazed upon her there in all the glory
of her compelling, regal beauty. Mahomet s Paradise
never possessed a more ravishing houri, nor was a sul
tan s seraglio ever more sensuously lighted, warmed and
perfumed.
Mohammedan prayer rugs were artis
Priceless silken

tically draped with the simple dull-gold raffia cloth of

the equatorial jungles. A
light, airy calabash stood
side by side with a great leather water bottle from the
Sahara. On a huge leopard s skin, soft and beautifully
spotted, was carelessly thrown a rich, dark shawl of
finest cashmere. On
a native carved ebony tabouret
were Turkish coffee cups of gold and a tiny silver Japan
ese pipe. Over a large oval mirror of wrought brass
were hung the ugly charms of the witch-doctors of the
negro savages. Woodland odors blended with musks
from Araby. Bush arabesque sconces splut
lights in
tered gayly, sending forth a sweet, pungent incense,
361
362 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and in a low brazier a charcoal fire burned. Decadent,
civilization was artistically blended with the
hampered
freedom and savagery of the equator.
One by one, the bush lights spluttered hysterically,
then went out. There was left only the soft glow from
the brazier, tingeing the surroundings a seductive red.

Suddenly, the Gabonaise shivered.

Slowly she opened her glorious eyes.
Indolently, she stretched her matchless limbs beneath
their soft, clinging drapery.
After a time, she arose.
Languidly, she leaned over the brazier. From her
pagne she took a small, jeweled mirror, and examined
her face by the fire s softening glow.
No antimony shaded her eyes ;
no carmine reddened
her lips no henna dyed her nails.
;
She did not need
borrowed charms. Nature had molded her perfectly and
Huntingdon had polished her.
She arranged the ropes of brilliants, topazes and tur
quoises about her neck.
She played with her bracelets, rings and anklets.
She studied the great toe of her left foot, on which
was a flat pigeon-blood ruby encircled with blazing
diamonds.
She had not the slightest idea of the value of the
jewels the white man lavished upon her. She knew
only the envy they excited in other women.
Tired with play, the Gabonaise returned to her couch.
But the spirit of unrest possessed her.
Again she arose.
As she passed the brazier, a
piece of glowing charcoal
leaped forth and hissed like a venomous serpent.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 363

She drew back, affrighted at the evil omen, and,

groping about in the shadows, she found a fetish a

tiny gazelle horn filled with pungent vegetable matter.

Closing her eyes, she bent over the charm ; she implored
itsprotection from any danger that threatened, then,
about her neck adorned with jewels from decadent Asia,
shehung the ugly charm of the negro savage !

Despite the cold season, the Gabonaise wore only a

pagne of soft, shimmering pale green satin embroidered
with seed pearls. Huntingdon had it made especially
for her in Constantinople. He had no other use for
his wealth than to spend it for the adornment of the
woman he madly worshiped the woman who kept his
senses lulled, who kept Africa masked, who made his
existence an Arcadia.
The Gabonaise went to the door, but the chill night
air caused her to shiver ;
she sought a soft, silken scarf
and draped it about her shoulders.
The moon was so brilliant and so near that night ap
peared as a silver day. Plainly visible were the rippling
waters of Lopez Bay and the thread of sand along the
beach. All nature was subdued, entrancing, enticing,
but the woman neither saw nor felt it. Something else
occupied her thoughts. She was as still as the very
doorpost itself. Yet her blood was in a tumult. She
had but one desire : to rush forth and demand the reason
of Huntingdon s silence, his neglect of her. It was
the first time he had ignored her and her savage blood
seethed at the thought.
Her eyes were upon Huntingdon s
bungalow. But
no sign of life came from it.
From the heavens she read the hour. Ten o clock.
364- HELL S PLAYGROUND
the time of her usual sum
Already an hour beyond
mons!
Extraordinary!
She knew LeBlanc dined with Huntingdon. LeBlanc.

Umph!
No longer could she remain
inactive.
like a wild thing
Nervously, she strode back and forth,
caged and restless.

Must she, the imperious Gabonaise, be made wait like

white
a common Ouroungo, like the mistresses of other
men:
In her mad
Rage, resentment, flooded her being.
pace she stumbled over something. She stooped to pick
it up; she uttered a cry of abject fear and flung the

thing far from her.

It was a rotted banana stalk. A most evilomen !

The woman fell limply to the sand. Gone was her

imperiousness she was an abj ect, cowering, supersti
tious savage.
She wildly implored her fetish to protect her. She
promised offerings of crocodile eggs and palm wine to
Abambou, the devil who threatened her.

Suddenly a sharp whistle cut the stilly night.

The Gabonaise eagerly started forward, then stopped.
Three blasts instead of two rang out !

Twos the summons for Mokay a, the Loango cook I

Slowly the Gabonaise retreated within her house. Me
chanically she groped in the shadows and sank on an
l
ebongo of carved ebony.
What did Huntingdon want
of the Loango at that
hour of the night?
i
Tabouret.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 365

The cook s duties were not only long since over for
the day but never before had she known Huntingdon
to summon him. She, Ndio, commanded his household
servants.

Suspicion, garnished by superstitious fears, unnerved

her.
She arose abruptly.
Again she looked into the night, tightly clutching the
fetish and muttering charms in the Gabonaise tongue.
Her brows were drawn together in thought, and her
eyelids fluttered. Something unusual for her.
At last she forced herself to acknowledge the truth :

What if her liaison with the Loango were discovered?

Savage though she was, she knew Huntingdon would
never forgive infidelity with white men, what then would
he do to her for seeking a nigger!
At thoughts of personal punishment, the imperious
blood of the unconquered Mpangwes regained its sway.
The eyes of the Gabonaise glistened evilly, her fingers
worked convulsively. One evil emotion after another
chased across her features.
Let her enemies beware ! She knew how to punish !

Who were her enemies?

Not Makaya nor any other native. Neither he nor
they would dare betray her; they knew too well the far-
reaching power of the Mpangwes, their swift, sure ven
geance. No, she had nothing to fear from her own
race. Some white man had done this thing.
She heard LeBlanc s whistle as he proceeded up the
beach.
LeBlanc? She always hated the puny, insignificant
Frenchman, as all well-developed women hate undersized,
366 HELL S PLAYGROUND
effeminate men. But now she hated him with the venom
of a treacherous woman betrayed. Woe be to him!

Already her cunning mind mapped out

his destruction.

His doom was sealed !

After what seemed an eternity, two sharp, shrill

whistles came vibrating through the night,
Her summons, and so peremptory!
The cunning of her ancestry awoke in her, and to her

came all the arts of a seductive woman.

She who was all suspicion, fire underneath, glided
softly, gracefully across the moonlit stretch of sand
leading to Huntingdon s bungalow.
The breath of night was stilled. All nature seemed

asleep, drugged by the witchery of tropical, mysterious

Africa.
Secure in her beauty and its power, the Gabonaise
was again the imperious belle of the coast from Dakar
to Saint Paul de Loando the coveted of all white men
; ;

the envied of native women ;

the acknowledged wife of

Pluntingdon, the proud Englishman!

Huntingdon would not dare harm her. He might cast
her forth. What of that? The governor of the colony
had again looked covetously upon her when he
passed down the coast. When he came north she would
go with him to Libreville, where dwelt the Gabonaise,
her people.
She was tired of the ignorant
Ouroungoes, of the
insipid white men. Yes, she was tired of the Anglais,
of his indulgences, of his kindnesses and his attentions.
She had loved him more had he beat her and
placed a
guard over her. But he gave her freedom and unremit
ting love he was weak she hated weak men !
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 367

She sought Huntingdon s sleeping apartment.

It was flooded with moonlight which played upon a
small dark object on the floor.
The Gdbonaise stooped and picked up the thing!
Twas an ebony idol !

Would evil omens never cease?

She spat on the head of the idol, rubbed her fetish
over it, muttered charms, then carefully placed it on
a shelf.
She lighted a photophore. 1
Disclosed was a man s room, cool, clean, severe. The
only thing therein speaking of other climes was a hand
some brass traveling clock in a dull-red morocco leather
case embellished with a coat of arms in gold filigree.
The Gdbonaise threw the scarf from her, and ex
amined herself before a mirror. Fascinated by the re
flection of her many jewels, she turned herself about to

get the full effect of their sparkle then with a quick

;

movement, she undid the knot that- held her pagne in

place. It fell to the floor, disclosing Turkish trousers

of soft, pink silk. These she also unloosed, and revealed
was a Venus in mahogany draped in jewels which glis
tened warmly in the candle s light.

Suddenly, she sniffed vigorously.

Perfume ! The strong perfume of commerce. Ma-
kaya loved it. So did she. The white man detested it.
She must erase all trace of it.
She hastily removed her jewels, sought Huntingdon s
bath and bathed. Vigorously she rubbed her flesh with
a huge Turkish towel, dusted her body with poudre de
riz and deluged herself with violet water.
i A shaded candle.
368 HELL S PLAYGROUND
She sniffed again. She was satisfied.

But where was Huntingdon?

Strange this silence, his absence

And those evil omens

Danger threatened became thoroughly terrified

she
she sank on the edge of the bed and waited waited
for she knew not what save that it meant harm to
her!

Suddenly two sharp, shrill whistles again tore through

the tense stillness of the night!
Her summons what was she to do, where was she
to go-
Two more rang out
blasts but they electrified her
into action. Huntingdon was in danger, out there in
the night!
He was calling her, he needed her danger threat
ened him.
She grabbed a Winchester from the wall.
Undraped, she rushed into the night.
She followed the direction of the whistle calls.

The fire of the watch blinded her as she rushed past,

but on she sped.
She collided with a man.
Twas Huntingdon.
She dropped the gun ;
she held out her arms to him,
but drew back sharply. was not the tender Hunting
It

don, she knew Huntingdon, the lover, but Huntingdon,

:

the master: a cold, tall, pale man clad in white.

Huntingdon spoke no word. He pointed to the
Loango.
Makaya, short and ugly and thoroughly frightened,
trembled as with the ague. In his hand was a chicotte,
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 369

the whip of twisted hippopotamus hide so dreaded by the

natives.
The evil omens had all come true !
Huntingdon knew
of her liaison with the Loango I

She made no effort to deny. She would submit to

punishment. Afterwards, revenge was left her!
Huntingdon indicated a coil of bush-rope which lay
at the base of a great cottonwood.
The Loango, tremblingly, stooped to pick it up, but,
e erhe could bind her, the Gabonaise proudly walked
beneath the tree and leaned lightly against its silvery
trunk, then, as though disdaining the tree s support,
she moved a pace from it, folded her arms behind her,
and posed as a queen about to receive a crown.
The flames from the watch s fire, not twenty feet away,
discovered the matchless body of the Gabonaise; they
reveled over its surface, throwing its black sensuous
curves into bold relief against the silver trunk of the
tree shuge girth.
Easily and gracefully the Gabonaise awaited her
punishment. Her perfect teeth gleamed beneath the
short upper lip that could not hide them. Her eyes
sought Huntingdon s with an expression he knew well
an expression of voluptuous tenderness. Yet there was
no entreaty in her gaze. A Gabonaise, an Mpangwe,
knows neither fear nor entreaty !

Makaya never once glanced at the woman his eyes ;

were riveted upon his master, awaiting his commands.

But he seemed so slow in delivering them that the Loango
grew nervous and longed to escape.
At last, Huntingdon made a gesture for Makaya to
throw away the rope.
370 HELL S PLAYGROUND

Makaya was relieved. A Loango and a slave, he

feared to bind the imperious Gabonaise! He knew he
would have penalty enough to pay for his involuntary
part in her punishment !

A heavy quiet reigned. The flames grew tired of

their sport and stole away. The moon fled beneath
the western horizon. Venus, at the first act of the
tragedy had sought her couch. Her eyes gaze only on
love and its pleasures ;
the consequences thereof, its

tragedies, interest her not. Blackness covered the

earth.

Suddenly a thousand tongues seemed loosed in protest

against the punishment of the peerless beauty.

From the bay a fresh breeze sprung up. Set in
motion were the great branches of the tree under which
the Gabonaise stood. Set in motion, too, were the
leaves of the trees in the forest just beyond. A sad
monotone was their remonstrance. Even the birds,
beasts and reptiles were startled into involuntary ex
pression. A night owl screeched, a bush pig grunted, a
huge saurian snorted at the water s edge. A bat flew
into the watch s low fire and fell to the earth, suffocated.

Suddenly a harsh bell rang out !

The watch, intent only on his vigil, sounded the hour,

and replenished his fire with dry bamboo.
The tension was eased.
The flames with renewed life
leaped forth greedily,
and, again seeking out the beautiful undraped of body
the Gabonaise,
they sported over polished surface.
its

Again Huntingdon was forced to gaze upon the

woman, her beauty, her grace, her proud indifference to
punishment.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 371

Suddenly, he gave harsh command :

"

Twenty-five."

Makaya, the slave, hesitated.

Flog the imperious Gabonaise \ He might as well
kill he could only escape in some man
himself. Oh, if

ner His eyes sought the bush, he commenced to mutter.

!

He could not lash this woman She would kill him !

sure!
"

Obey, slave !
"

came the stern command of the Gabo-

naise in the Ouroungo tongue.
Makaya was startled into> obedience. He laid on
vigorously. The flames followed each stroke of the
chicotte as it body of her who all her
cut deep into the
short life had known naught but caresses. Again and
again was mutilated that sensitive flesh cleansed twice
a day in the sea s soft water and polished until it shone
like roseate mahogany that flesh the delight of him
;

who commanded its multilation by the wretch who had

dared desecrate it !

The tender flesh broke. The blood, over which the

woman s iron will had no control, ran down her body
and buried the unresisting sand.
itself in

Involuntarily the Gabonaise changed her position. A

stroke paralyzed the sensitive nerves in her left elbow.
The arm dropped to her side. Yet the smile still ca
ressed her lips; easy, upright, graceful remained her

body.
Her matchless breasts had not yet felt the chicotte s
bite. Thoughts of his own punishment caused the

Loango to grow dizzy. He struck wildly. The breasts

gave up their blood !

The eyes of the Gabonaise flashed wide open, her head

372 HELL S PLAYGROUND
reared, as does a spirited charger s who resents the prick

of his master s spurs.

Eleven strokes had descended.
At sight of the blood trickling from her breasts, Hunt
ingdon cried:
"

Stop !

"

Go on, slave !
"

commanded the Gabonaise, im

periously.
Huntingdon could endure no more.
He turned and fled to the bungalow.
The chicotte s hiss followed him. He felt the pain
of every stroke. It were as though he and not the

Gabonaise were being punished.

He rushed into his bedroom and stumbled over an
ebony tabouret. He sent it flying through the open
window.
He tripped on the clothing of the Gabonaise. That
too went a-flying.
He stumbled over a chair. He tore off its canvas and
broke the stout frame as though it were sticks of frail
bamboo.
He raged, he fumed, he blasphemed.
He was furious with himself. He was caught in the
web of his own weaving. He had clothed the Gabonaise
with all the virtues he desired in the woman he loved.
He had acted the human where the brute should have
ruled!
The Gabonaise was what she was because she was.
He hated himself for the web of deceit his senses had
weaved about her. He had
been warned, but, secure in
his conceited he took the warnings as lies,
judgment,
slanders !
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 373

He tasted to the full the degradation that had come

upon him. He did not spare himself.

Then he raged against women.
White or black, they were all alike. Delilahs robbing
man of his greatest strength, the strength to do and
dare engendered by woman herself!
He vowed to cast women from his life. Whoso said
that they had a spark of divine in them lied miserably,
so that more suckers might be taken in.
Women were hell s flame, sent abroad to torture men.
Women! He hated the very sound of the word. He
would ab j ure them forever !

Then hismood changed.

Why shouldn t women be made
suffer as he had suf
fered? They had played with and tortured him, he
would play with and torture them. For every hurt he
suffered, they should suffer, for every tear he had shed,
they should shed three-fold. Oh, he would show these
women who their masters were He would have a !

harem of women. They should be slaves, he the mas

ter cold and indifferent and heartless as a Turk. He
would crush out the civilization within him. He would
lead such a life of debauchery that even the savage
women would beg his mercy. Women had killed his bet

ter nature, they should feel the brute they had brought
into being!
He blew a dreadful blast upon his whistle.

Ngumbe came in terror.

"

Find me the youngest and prettiest Ouroungo woman

at once and bring her here !
"

Ngumbe hastened to obey.

As Huntingdon had formerly delighted in thoughts of
374 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the highest, now he took satisfaction in contemplating
acts of the basest. He would torture and slay as he had
been tortured and slain. He would out-savage the
savage !

A girl of fourteen, lithe and graceful, stood before

him.
"

You sent for me, O Great White King,"

she said in

halting English, her whole personality glowing

with the

satisfaction, the pride, that was hers because Hunting

don, the haughty, exclusive Englishman had summoned
her.

Huntingdon pulled her roughly to him, then sent her

flying across the floor.

Another dreadful blast from his whistle pierced the

stilly night.

Again came Ngumbe on the feet of fear !

"

Go
give the girl a bath, Ngumbe ; she s dirty, she
smells. Give her the clothing of the Gabona ise."
Again the girl was before him. Any other time he
would have noticed her dainty beauty. Her features
had no trace of the negro, and her flesh was the color of
rich cream. She was a half-caste, clean limbed, and
about her was the grace, the freshness of the wild
gazelle.
"

Another manifestation of hell," Huntingdon

savagely cried, spinning the girl around.
She did not understand his words. Her knowledge of
English was too slight. But she knew what it was to
have white men inspect black women.
She commenced to smirk, to unloose her
pagne, when
Huntingdon picked her up and tossed her roughly to
the bed.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 375

******
The mosquito bar was torn from its frame, but Hunt
ingdon savagely threw it from him.

Finally he took the supple, unresisting body in his

arms, bent the head and feet backward until they met,
then, deaf to the girl s low moan of pain, he left the
room, slamming the door behind him.
His violence had spent itself.
He paced back and forth in the great living-room.
Tick, tick, tick, the European clock fell loud upon his
ear in the somnambulance of the night.
It revived the memories he thought he had successfully
killed. They came crowding thick and fast ; memories
of the white woman who had thrown him over. Ah, the
wound was open and bleeding It would bleed as long
!

as he lived. He had loved too honestly and deeply to

ever forget. Countless eternities would find him still

remembering. That was the running sore. She had

forgotten, she was married ;
he saw it in the English pa
pers. Doubtless happy. Happy ! Some people might
know its meaning, but he never.
He forgot the woman on the floor in the next room ;

he forgot the Gabonaise. He knew only his own misery.

His Gethsemane was complete.
 CHAPTER XXIII
THE Gabonaise lay face downward in the sand. Her
unclothed, bruised body was unconscious of the cold
breezes from the bay and the sting of the many insects
feeding upon its She knew only one thing:
wounds.
that an Ouroungo woman was with the man who had
cast her forth! The woman would suffer, but as for
the man the Gabonaise knew that he was done with
her forever, and she had no desire to be revenged upon
him!
The vapors of night were slowly retreating before
the mystery of the coming dawn, when the Gabonaise
raised her head. Her features were Medusa-like in
their frozen calm.
Out of the bungalow came the Ouroungo, clad in
Ndio s most-cherished dress, the pale green pagne!
The Ouroungo sneered as she passed the Gabonaise
but, quick as a tigress, Ndio sprang to her feet ;
she

leaped upon the Ouroungo, she caught her about the

neck, and, with a twist her Gabonaise mother taught
her, she choked the girl with the very beads that adorned
her throat !

The murdered girl fell to the ground, the sneer still

upon her lips !

The Gabonaise disappeared !

The watch, unconscious of the tragedy, put out his

fire and quitted his post !

376
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 377

The birds chatted noisily, night beasts sought their

lairs, and daylight creatures ventured forth in search of

food.
The sun smiled o er the earth.
Another day had dawned on Hell s
Playground!
 CHAPTER XXIV
"

MASTER, master," called Ngumbe excitedly rushing

into the room.

"

Them woman live for die. Her lay

for sand so,"
and the boy threw himself face down on
the floor.

Huntingdon was startled and shocked.

Had Ndio killed herself? Had he been too cruel
after all? Should he have taken the unsupported word
of LeBlanc, the French trader? Yet Ndio had made no
denial, neither had she confessed. Tis true the Loango
had confessed, but such confession was made in terror
of great punishment. But would the Loango dare lie
against the Gabonaise, knowing as he did the far-reach
ing power of the Mpangwes, their swift vengeance upon
their betrayers? Would the Loango risk sure death
from the Gabonaise to escape any punishment Hunting
don might inflict upon him? No. The Gabonaise was
guilty. Still she did not deserve death. She might
have lived and gone her own way.
About the dead woman were gathered factory hands
and canoeboys gesticulating wildly and talking rapidly.
Ndio s name fell on Huntingdon s ear, and the words
blood atonement.
What had blood atonement to do with suicide? Blood
atonement was exacted only when one free native killed
another.

378
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 379

Huntingdon parted the natives, then drew back horri

fied, as his eyes fell upon the Ouroungo!

Look, Master," cried Ogula, the shootman, pointing

"

to the dead girl s throat. Them be proper Gabonaise

"

"

twist. Gabonaise done kill the Ouroungo!

Huntingdon s mind worked quickly. Ndio had mur
dered the Ouroungo and Ndio herself was in danger of
death! Blood for blood was the native law. Ndio
would Huntingdon saved her!
die unless
No thought remained of the wrong she had done him.
His one idea was to shield the woman from the rage of
the Ouroungoes. Was he powerful enough to do so?
Had he gold enough to buy off native justice? The
savages were firmly rooted in their practices. Blood
for blood had been their law from time out of mind.
Could he, a white man, hope to buy off long-rooted cus

tom?
He listened to the speech of the Ouroungoes.
Chief Ragundo, the murdered girl s grandfather, was
trading up the Ogowe. A canoe had already set out to
tell him of the tragedy. His return meant Ndio s

death.
Where was Ndio? Back there in her house, indifferent
to her fate?

Huntingdon must save her. Ah, the Nigeria was due ;

she was down the coast. He had already cabled Hains to

lay to for cargo. He would smuggle the Gabonaise
aboard the ship and have Hains take her up the coast to
her own people. Once with them she was safe. Chief
Ragundo could not possibly return from the Ogowe
under three days. The English ship would have come
and gone by then.
380 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Other times Huntingdon had summoned the Gabonaise,
but now he went in search of her.
She was not in her house. In the ashes of the
fire

The ebony stool was upturned, but no

lay her mirror.
other disorder shown.
Ndio from
Huntingdon, Huntingdon," came
"
s voice

the bush just beyond.

Huntingdon hurried in the direction of

the call.

The bush was cool and shadowy, the path narrow and
winding.
"
"

Ndio, Ndio," he called softly. It is I, Hunting

don ; come forth, I will save you."
"

Ndio, came the mocking answer, and

Ndio,"
in a

palm tree overhead was perched Ndio s parrot.

"

Ah, ha, Huntingdon, pauvre Huntingdon," com

miserated the bird as Huntingdon continued his search.

Suddenly, in the primeval depth of nature run riot,

the awful, somber, brooding silence overwhelmed the
white man. Fathomless, inexplorable undergrowth and
overgrowth menaced and terrified him he turned and ;

fled into the open.

The sun beat upon his unprotected head, for in his
haste he had set forth without his helmet. Its heat
bored through to the very marrow of his bones, yet all
its
power could not drive away the chills that suddenly
besieged him. Malaria was full upon him, but he heeded
not her misery in the rejoicing that was his because of
the escape of the Gabonaise. Blood atonement was too
of in connection with her
terrible to think !

Canoes were heading for the beach from all directions.

Crowds of natives were already assembled thereon.
"

Makaya, the Loango, him no live," remarked

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 381

Ngumbe, serving his master s coffee and fruit on the

veranda.
"

Gabonaise gone too," and the boy grinned

knowingly.
Huntingdon s blood boiled within him.
Had he, the master, been the only one blind to exist

ing conditions?
The white men would soon come, shrug their shoulders,
and cry :
"

I told you so." He was glad Moore and

Sadler were away in the bush. That much humiliation
was spared him. LeBlanc was coming now.
He pushed his way through the crowded natives, who
parted sullenly. The Frenchman was nervous, un
strung, he spoke disjointedly, and about him was the
odor of absinthe.
these they re fiends when they re
"

Oh, women,
aroused. Mon Dieu, Sacre Coeurf Tragique! Quel
desaster! La, la! The Commandant notify him a la
moment, before the natives tell him lies. Mais, non,
non, I think Monsieur le Commandant no take action
until he hears directly from you. No matter, he won t
get a show at the trial of La Belle Gabonaise. The
French know enough in a palaver of this sort to let

native justice have its way. You might, alors, a as

matter of form, ask le Commandant for the gendarmes
to protect the woman !
"

"

The Gabonaise is gone fled !

"

Huntingdon an
swered quietly.
"

Le diable! Where did she go ?"

"

I don t know. Makaya gone too." s

and the Frenchman shrugged

"

Naturellement," his
shoulders.
"

They re both as good as dead. The Gabo

naise will kill the Loango for betraying her, and the
382 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Ouroungoes will dispatch the woman for killing the girl.
"

Voila!
LeBlanc lightly dismissed the matter,
and poured him
self a draft of absinthe.
"

Did it strike you, Monsieur LeBlanc that the Loango

will tell the Gabonaue that it was you who betrayed

her? "

Huntingdon cruelty was deliberate. It s was the first

time in his life he ever wounded a guest. But Africa

had strangled the old, chivalrous Huntingdon. A newer,
a coarser man was in his place.
The Frenchman s terror was pitiful.
"

Mon poison, the secret poison

Dieu, tis true ! The
will get me, the poison of the Mpangwes. Ah, you cold
blooded Anglais, does it not frighten you, do you not
already see me dead out there in the sand under those
"

cocatiers?
"

Wait until you re dead before you cry,"

sneered

Huntingdon, contemptuously. Once safe away, the "

Gabonaise won t be fool enough to return to poison a

creature like you."
"

Mais, Mon Dieu, she can send ! Monsieur Hunt

ingdon, you do not appreciate the diablerie of these black
fiends. You refuse to understand them, otherwise you
would have known all along what
every white and black
man on the entire coast knew, that La Belle Gabonaise
was making sport of you."
"

I ll
notify the Commandant," and Huntingdon
abruptly disappeared within.
LeBlanc poured another great draught of absinthe
and drank it neat.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 383

"

Ngumbe," he said in a low tone, "

how did them

palaver go after I left last night?

"

I no said the boy, contradiction in his

"

Me, savvy,"

tones.
"

Oh, yes, you do."

The Frenchman laid a franc on the table.

The boy reached for the money, put it in his cloth
and spoke rapidly a low voice, his eyes on the door.
in
"

When Frenchman him go for home, master him call

them Loango for back where big cotton tree live. Then
him blow for Gabonaise. Master him head go for him
hands and the boy dropped his head in his hands.
so,"

"

Him make so for long, long time. Them Loango all

time lay at master s feet, him head in the sand. Them

Gabonaise never come. Then master blow two times two
times.Gabonaise come from bungalow all same like
bushwoman no cloth. Master he tell them Loango
twenty-five for chicotte. Loango he make them whip go
and master him run for house. Things for him room
all make noise. I fear. Then master blow whistle hard,
hard. Me, I come. Master him like beast for jungle.
Him cry for the Ouroungo. The Ouroungo come I

go for bed. At sunup them Ouroungo live for dead.

Hush, master
"

live !

Huntingdon s letter to the Commandant was brief. It

simply stated that a murder had been committed on his

premises and he awaited the pleasure of the Commandant

to call and report in person.
"

Ah, Monsieur, regardez" cried the Frenchman.

"

Here comes the Commandant s mistress. She s look

ing at you, Huntingdon. They all look at you, these

384 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the Douane mis
Regardez encore, here come
s
wenches.
tress, and Gottschalk s and Wildman s. The jolies

femmes Dressed up, too, for your benefit.

are all out.

would leave their owners, if you but looked

Everyone
at them. Bah, you cold Anglais, you draw the ardent
woman We Frenchmen, all fire, have no chance when
!

you re around !
"

Huntingdon remained silent.

Ah, you Anglais. You speak nothing of V amour.
"

You live it not again by telling it to your friends. We

Frenchmen must speak of our mistresses or we are
miserable! Ah, you fish, you CLAM, you STONE ! It

is so. The women love you, a f rapped creature, rather

than a Frenchman like me, who is all
fire, FIRE, FIRE!
Here come Gottschalk and Wildman themselves," he
broke off suddenly, and called out gayly Bon jour, :
"

"

mes ames! Entrez! II fait bon ce matin!

"

Himmel! these women," said Gottschalk, the German.

"

They ought to be all tied with thongs can t trust

one of them and nobody would think of trusting a native
woman save an Englishman. A German knows better."

And so does a Swiss," put in Wildman.

"

"

Master, police warned Ngumbe.

live,"

Huntingdon arose and returned the salute of the

negro sergeant.
"

Monsieur Huntingdon, we have come for the Gabo-

naise, Ndio."

"

She is not here," answered Huntingdon, quietly.

"

We will look for herin her house." The sergeant

saluted again, and, followed by his police and an excited
crowd of natives, he set forth to seek the Gabonaise.
"

The Commandant would not submit Monsieur Hunt-

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 385

ingdon, a white man, to a search of his house by black

police,"
LeBlanc significantly.
said
The German and the Swiss looked up.
Can we help you in any way? asked the Swiss of
" "

Huntingdon.
It was patent that the men believed the Gabonaise was
hidden in Huntingdon s
bungalow.
"

Gentlemen, I repeat, the Gabonaise has disap

peared."

Not a man believed Huntingdon, yet none of them

gainsaid him in his presence.
Ngumbe reported that the Commandant was in his
bureau, and Avould receive Monsieur Huntingdon at
once!
For the first time since his killing of the leopard which
had terrorized the natives, seven years ago, Huntingdon
was allowed to pass without the hearty native salute:
Mpolo, mpolo Tata Otangani."
"

But Huntingdon did not notice the omission. He

made his way hurriedly down the beach, indifferent to
the crowd that followed him.
The palaver with the Commandant was very formal.
The Commandant wrote out Huntingdon s statement.
It simply averred that a murder had been committed on
his premises.
With a flourish the Commandant signed it then
laid it away to be lost.
Absinthe was ordered.
You ought to have known, Monsieur Huntingdon,
"

that these women are not to be trusted. You savvy, how

the Gabonaise deserted me for you and the French "

man impatiently shrugged his shoulders but she

"
386 HELL S PLAYGROUND
came back again. After her last rendezvous with me
she stole nearly all my clothing and gave it to her nigger

paramour. The last time you were up at Ninga Sika

and she plead illness, you were no sooner across the bay
than she was off with my chef."

Huntingdon writhed beneath the Commandant s dis

closures. He took draught after draught of absinthe,
but said nothing.
"

Now that you savvy what these women are, treat

them like the dirt under 3 our feet change them at
will. The Consul General of the Congo leaves Braz
zaville on the 23rd, on his way to Europe. He s bring
ing his mistress to me. She s a Portuguese half-cast.
The woman I have now isn t half bad why don t
"

you take her?

Disgust was again quick in Huntingdon.
No, thanks, Monsieur le Commandant, had
"

I ve

enough of women."
The Commandant laughed and playfully pinched
Huntingdon s arm.
"

We
say that, when the barb of betrayal first
all

enters. But we soon

forget especially out here,
midst I ennui and la tristesse. Oh, en passant! I hear
you ve telegraphed the Nigeria to stand off Cape
Lopez The Commandant paused, significantly.
"

She s liable to anchor in the night. Can you trust

your men? Remember they re Ouroungoes, pledged
body and soul to Chief Ragundo, the grandfather of
the murdered girl, and the head of their tribe. I think
I d better let you have You can depend
my tirailleurs.
on them. They Malgash and re
Mohammedans."
"

You are very kind, Monsieur le Commandant, but I

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 387

assure you on the honor of a British gentleman, the

Gabonaise has escaped."

Again the Commandant shrugged his shoulders.

As to the Nigeria," went on Huntingdon,
"

I did
"

telegraph her to put in. That was before the murder.

I ve a big shipment of logs ready. But I confess to
you, had the Gabonaise been in hiding, I would have
done my utmost to send her north with Captain Hains.
I couldn t see the woman delivered to her enemies."
"

Monsieur Huntingdon, for your sake that

I hope,
she has gotten safely away. She couldn t do so now.
The alarm has gone broadcast. Cape Lopez is swarm
ing with Ouroungoes. Their number will grow greater.
Chief Ragundo is beloved by his people and they will
help him revenge his granddaughter. Every hectar of
Cape Lopez and the bush will be scoured for her."
The Loango s gone
"

too."

Ah
"

That means she s fled south. Perhaps Ma-

!

kaya s powerful enough among his own people to pro

tect her but I doubt it blood for blood is the uni
versal law of the savages. If the Gabonaise succeeds in

getting as far as Libreville in the north, and off to the

Crystal Mountains to her own tribe, she will be perfectly

safe. Her father is a powerful king. I ve marveled
all along why she tarried here in this triste Cape Lopez

when there the lieutenant-governor at Libreville

is

a young, very attractive French gentleman of the

haute noblesse."

Although heavy with fever, tired and depressed,

Huntingdon continued to rejoice over the escape of the
Gabonaise.
He did not mind the swarming of the natives, their
388 HELL S PLAYGROUND
sullen silence when he passed, their constant guarding of
his premises.
He had nothing to conceal. He feared no danger to
himself. Nevertheless, he would make a big cash pay
ment to Chief Ragundo for the of his grand
loss

daughter. He
sincerely regretted the murder, but he
did not consider that he was in any way responsible for
it. The had repeatedly importuned him to
old chief
take his women, and because he had done so, and
tragedy had resulted, the old chief could do naught else
than hold Huntingdon blameless.
 CHAPTER XXV
THE Nigeria anchored during the night. She was
immediately surrounded by a cordon of native canoes.
The Ouroungoes determined to frustrate any attempt to
smuggle the Gabonaise aboard.
The Nigeria s anchor had scarce touched bottom
when a surf boat was lowered and Skipper Hains was
rowed at once to Huntingdon s beach.
Native canoes were detailed to follow the surf boat,
pickets were placed on the beach and about Hunting
don s
bungalow. It was impossible for anybody to pass
through the lines of the Ouroungoes without their
consent.
The skipper awakened Huntingdon from a sound
sleep. He held out his broad, honest palms and cried:
"

I m here, me lad. I crowded on every pound of

steam to reach ye. It s a nasty mess, but I m here to

get ye out of it. Ye must have been all-fired mad to
have murdered the Gabonaise, and ye re to be arrested,
eh? Well, there s no French or any other foreign na
tion going to arrest an Englishman when there s an
Irish skipper and his boat within hailing distance. As
for them bally niggers outside, come on, we ll show em
how the Irish run the gauntlet. We ll shell the whole
rotten gang if we have to
"

Huntingdon listened to the Captain s version of the

tragedy, then burst out in nervous laughter.

389
390 HELL S PLAYGROUND
no laughing matter yet, me lad wait until we
"

It s ;

clear the enemy s lines. Into your duds, me boy every ;

moment s precious. When daylight comes it won t be

so easy."

You a jolly friend in need, Skipper, but

"

re fine

I didn t
gossip got mighty badly twisted this time.
kill the Gabonaise. Sit down and I ll tell you the true
palaver."

Hains listened patiently to Huntingdon s recital, then

blurted out:
"

I m
blooming glad, me lad, that ye didn t soil your
hands with the murder of a nigger although, mind
ye, I wouldn t censure ye if ye had, for young blood is
hot blood. As for woman-palaver men will be men
and niggers are niggers. Ye plunged into the pit I
warned ye forninst. I m Irish and it ain t me way to
censure a friend in need. But if the Gabonaise is in

hiding, give her to me. get her away safe and

I ll

sound. I ll
put her off at Gaboon among her own where
she ll be safe."

Huntingdon answered petulantly

"

I tell you, Skip :

per, the Gabonaise has escaped. Nobody wants to take

my word for it, but I assure you on my honor as an
English gentleman that the woman got a.wa,y !
"

That s enough, me lad. No more s to be said.

But when I got your wire down the coast and heard
the gossip that had come
by another wire that you had
murdered a native woman and all the rest of it I
swore by the Union Jack that if
you were living when
I got to
Cape Lopez, nobody but an Irishman would
take you prisoner and that Irishman would be me.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 391

Once aboard the Nigeria, you d be as free as her hal

yards."
"

You re a brick, Skipper," began Huntingdon, but

the doughty captain, short, stalky and in white, with
the four strips of galoon on his sleeves showing his rank,
cried :

"

I m damned glad the business is finished. Day

light s here and I m hungry as a shark."

From the veranda he sounded a sharp blast on his

whistle.
"

Aye, aye, Captain,"

answered a voice from the
beach.
Hains made a megaphone of his hands and called in

stentorian tones :

"

Me compliments to Mr. Shale, the Chief Steward.

Have him send off breakfast for two one time."
"

Aye, aye, Captain."

Ever entrance to Huntingdon s

since the captain s

bungalow the natives had grown in numbers. They

were sure a plot was being hatched to smuggle the
Gabonaise aboard the English ship. In the absence of
Chief Ragundo, his brothers directed affairs. Their
orders were positive:
"

The Gabonaise shall not leave Cape Lopez. She

shall suffer the atonement. No one can kill an Our-
oungo and
"

live !

Couriers had been sent throughout the entire coun

try summoning all the relatives of the dead woman,

even unto the sixth cousins, and every hour satv them

hastening to Cape Lopez. The whole tribe of the Our-

oungoes stood as one man to avenge the death of their
392 HELL S PLAYGROUND
kinswoman. Family disputes were put aside for the
time. The unity of revenge drew the savages together.
Already levy was also being made for palm-wine,
plantains, manioc, and gunpowder to celebrate the great
festival of death. The dead woman was sure of a
proper burial ceremony because of the rank of her grand
father, but the ceremony would be prolonged and more
riotous because of the manner of her death.

Skipper Hains ordered the ship s hands about load

ing timber. Employment was offered to any Cape
Lopez natives who would come forward. None com
plied.
Hains was anxious to return down the coast for the
cargo he had passed up when he received Huntingdon s

wire.

Between log rolling and lashing, and the excitement

of the jabbering Ouroungoes, pandemonium reigned on
the beach.
The Commandant sent an orderly with a note beg
ging the Englishman to let him know if troops were
needed and to remind Huntingdon of the Commandant s
friendship but the Frenchman added: "If
my men
see the Gabonaise
they must take her." He heavily
underscored the word see.

Huntingdon passed the note to the skipper.

Not a bad sort that for a Frenchman," acknowl
edged the skipper.
Huntingdon assured the Commandant that troops
were not necessary. He repeated that the Gabonaise
was not on the premises. That he did not know where
she was.
Me lad, did ye get me those carved ivories ye
 393

promised to order six months back ? asked the skip

"

per.
Yes, there are a dozen carved tusks in the store
"

room. Come along, I ll show them to you and you can

select what you wish."

"

They ll wait until after breakfast. The surf boat s

putting off hungrynow. I m so I could eat manioc,

and I hate anything the dirty natives put hand to."
Why didn t you say you were hungry, Skipper?
"

I would have given you some chop."

"

What ! eat tins when we ve fresh stuff aboard ? Not

me."

The breakfast was plentiful and both men ate

heartily.
They remained on the veranda in full view of the
natives until eleven o clock, when the heat commenced
to stoke up and they retired to Huntingdon s
sleeping-
room.
"

Stetch out, Skipper," said Huntingdon,

"

and en
joy forty winks."

Faith and
"

I need them," said the skipper, taking

off his coat and stretching at full length on the bed.

I haven t rested a minute since heard of your mammy

"

palaver. Well, it s ended and I

mighty glad of it. m
I ve given orders to get them logs aboard as quick as
possible. I m not needed here and I m longing to be
about me business. I ll look at the ivories now and have
em sent off, then I can rest until it s time to steam
away."

Huntingdon disappeared in the storeroom beyond his

sleeping-chamber.
The place was in total darkness.
394 HELL S PLAYGROUND
He threw wide a shutter.
A flood of searching sunlight rushed in, accompanied
by the heads of prying natives. They were chattering
excitedly and watched Huntingdon closely.
The latter went about whistling, indifferent to their

espionage. He had
nothing to hide nothing to fear !

He stooped to pick up a great carved ivory, when a

warning whisper fell upon his ears, freezing the very
blood in his veins !

"

Huntingdon, I m here," came the voice of the

Gabonaise.
Ndio room, where the brilliant sunlight
there, in that

might betray her any moment !

He wanted to rush to the window, to close the shutter,

but he had no control over his limbs. Power to move
had Yet he must act or the woman would be
left him.

lost. She would not have dared utter the warning

whisper had the natives not been talking wildly among
themselves.
Aneternity seemed to elapse before Huntingdon
pulled himself together with a mighty effort.
Picking up a great tusk of ivory, he advanced to
wards the window.
" "

Here, you !

A number of natives essayed to jump into the room.

"

One
enough. s come," You and he indicated a
powerful Ouroungo who had one leg over the window-
sill.

The fellow vaulted lightly into the room.

Huntingdon loaded the ivory onto his shoulder and

commanded :

Into that room

"
"

!
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 395

The native passed into Huntingdon s

sleeping-cham
ber.

Complete master of himself, with slow, easy move

ments, Huntingdon leaned out of the window. His wide
shoulders covered the window space, and the natives
retreated before him.
He looked out over the black heads and remarked the

growing numbers of the savages.

You don t love your Mpolo Tata Otangani any
"

more," he smiled.
There was sullen silence.

Huntingdon let the trap window fall with a bang and

locked it.

he cried nervously, thought you had

" "

Ndio," I

escaped to the bush !

"

"

I slipped in here when you and the others were

looking at her."

But that was yesterday. Why didn t you make

"

your presence known? Why did you wait?"

He was groping about in the dark, trying to find
her.
"

The chicottc, my legs, my sides plenty of -

blood."

Her voice was very weak.

He reached her. She lay at his feet.

You re wounded, suffering

"

Save me, Huntingdon, save me

"

!
"

The terror in that once proud voice pierced Hunt

ingdon s very soul. He bent over her.

Here, take this. I ll do my

"

best. But don t let

them take you alive."

He put a keen-edged dagger into her hand and faced

396 HELL S PLAYGROUND
a k ou t just as the Ouroungo came through the door
from his sleeping-chamber.

my said Hunting
I ve something for you,
"

man,"

don lightly in the Ouroungo tongue, pushing the native

ahead of him. "You ve got to go out through the
chop room. The storeroom window
s locked."

The native grunted in recognition of a head of to

bacco and passed out.
Skipper Hains lay with his eyes shut.
Huntingdon s mind was in a whirlwind. Ndio was
there, wounded, he must save her, but how! HOW ! !

He paced back and forth.

The captain opened his eyes.
Double up on your quinine, me lad, and take a
"
stiff

drink. Your nerves are going some. You re the

color of chalk. Malaria, eh? Rotten ailment. Come,
take a run down the coast with me. A
change on the
ship will do you good. A severe dose of Africa just
now llbowl you out, and mebbe for good."
"

She s there, Skipper, the Gabonaise is there," cried

Huntingdon, wildly pointing to the storeroom.
The skipper jumped to his feet, grabbed his coat and
buttoned it furiously.
"

A pretty kettle of fish he ejaculated.

!
"

I didn t know it, Skipper, I didn t know

"

it until

just now. I give you my word I didn t

"

That s all right, me lad, softly, softly."

"

She s wounded, weak, suffering ! She crawled in

there yesterday morning when the natives and myself
were crowded about the dead woman. We ve got to
save her, Skipper, we ve got to save her !
"

Huntingdon s voice broke and he cried like a woman.

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 397

"

Let the wench take her medicine. She gave it to

ye pretty strong,"
answered the skipper, testily.

Through Huntingdon plead for the woman

his tears
who had so foully wronged him.
Skipper, the Gabonaise saved me from death more
"

than once. Didn t she nurse me back to life when black-

water had all but got me ? "

Yes, she saved ye for herself

"

because she wanted

ye the brute !
"

Didn t she intercept the medicine Itula made for me

"

when I caught him stealing from my new factory? "

It takes a thief to catch a thief, and a murderer to

"

trap a murderer."

Didn she repeatedly risk death for me by tasting

"

every bit of my food before it came to my table?

"

"

Ye
repaid her a thousandfold !
"

Ah, Skipper, shall it be said that an Englishman

"

is found wanting when the test comes? Shall it be said

an Englishman lacks gratitude? "

The skipper was silent.

Despair settled upon Huntingdon, and he cried:
"

I ll give myself up to the Ouroungoes. Blood for

blood is their demand. White blood is richer than black

accept the substitute

"

ll
they !

Huntingdon was unnerved he scarce knew what

he was doing.
He started for the door.
The skipper hauled him back. Huntingdon tried to
shake him off, but the skipper s grip was powerful and
he raged When it comes to substitutes it won t be a
:
"

white man and an English nobleman at that for any hea

then nigger wench. So rest easy while I think a bit."
398 HELL S PLAYGROUND
All trace of weariness vanished from the skipper.
He was the man of action !

Huntingdon collapsed on the bed.

The skipper lighted his meerschaum and puffed vig
orously.
presume ye can trust the Commandant
"

I in this

affair? he finally asked.

"

Huntingdon nodded.
"

His soldiers, what they be? "

"
"

Malgash!
"

Good."

You re not going to make a bolt for the Nigeria

"

with her, are you ?

"

and Huntingdon stared wildly at

the captain.
"Do I look like such a dom fool, me lad? Looks is

mighty deceivin then. Midday I m hungry. Cox-

un," he roared out over the veranda.

"Aye, aye, sir."

The natives listened sullenly as the captain shouted
his orders :

"

Me compliments to the chief steward. I ll lunch

ashore with Mr. Huntingdon. Send plenty of grub
some roast beef, raws eggs, some canned milk and a bot
tle of Hennesy
"

Aye, aye, Captain," the man saluted and started

"

away but the skipper yelled, as he darted within :

"

Stand-by a bit."
He hurried to the storeroom, closing the door softly
behind him. Huntingdon heard a match light. Then
Hains came forth almost immediately and out on the
veranda he shouted to his coxswain :
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 399

"

Mr. Huntingdon s cook s taken French leave. Have

the boy, Iguela, come to take his place."
"

Aye, aye, Captain."

Iguela, a slender Mandigan, clad only in a loin cloth

stepped on to the veranda. Hains rushed forth and
laid a chicotte vigorously across his shoulders, bellowing :

Ye blue-spotted son of Ham

"

Don ye know better ! t

than to come ashore to serve me undressed like the

heathen ye are? Get off to the ship, one time, and put
on your clothes of them, d ye hear ? If ye play
all

me a trick like that again, I ll flog the life out of ye."

The boy ran with all his might towards the beach,
the Ouroungoes jeering at his discomfiture.

Again the captain 3^elled :

"

Send Sampson !
"

Sampson, the big, powerful Kru, appeared.

The natives crowded closer they weren t going to
be caught napping. Their suspicions of the skipper had
been continually growing. Runners reported from all
parts of the bush that the Gabonaise had not passed
through. The Englishman had declared she was not on
his premises but he evidently knew where she was hid
den. They would watch him, and get her !

Sampson, how long it be before them logs be all

"

stowed? "

roared Hains.
Sundown, master the surf runs heavy it and the
"

Ouroungoes keep back the work."

Do you expect to keep me laying around this flea-

"

bitten hole all that time? raged Skipper Hains in tones

"

loud enough to be heard away out in the bay, where his

ship was anchored. Logs must all be stored by four

"
400 HELL S PLAYGROUND
o clock. Put more men at work and flog the interfering
"

natives out of the way, savvy?

"

Aye, aye, Captain."

Here s a key
"
take it to the first officer and tell
him the skipper fumbled through his pockets, then
"

in hell re my keys? Come

began to swear. "Where
here, Sampson, they re inside."
Away from the prying natives, the captain lowered
his voice and spoke quickly :

Sampson, if them logs is all stowed BEFORE

"
sun
down YOU GET DOCKED A S WAGES, MONTH
"

savvy?
The eyes of the intelligent Km and those of the Irish
man met.
"

I savvy, master."

"

Now roared Hains, once more on the

get to work,"

veranda and playing to the gallery. This is a hell "

of a place if my keys are lost somebody ll get it.

See to it that ye have the ship scoured for them. And

tell Mr. Frazer to get up steam. We leave at four
o clock. Not another minute ll I pass in this infernal
hole if I go begging for cargo
"

"

Is it all arranged?
"

asked Huntingdon, through his

chattering teeth.
He lay on the bed, smothered in blankets and tarpaul
ins. African fever was shaking the life out of him.

His temperature was high, dangerously high, his eyes

unnaturally bright, and a red spot burned on either
cheek. The unexpected discovery of the Gabonaise had
completely unnerved him and fever laid him helpless.
Softly, softly, me lad, here come grub and Iguela."
"
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 401

Iguela was clad in a white duck suit his feet and

head bare.
Bring the drinks and the eggs and milk in here,
"

Iguela. Open them brandy and do ye lay the table on

the veranda and stand-by for service."
The skipper intently watched the coming and going
of Ngumbe.
The moment he was waiting for came.
The living-room was deserted.
Slamming the eggs into a glass, jamming his knife

into a can of milk and grabbing the bottle of Hennesy,

the skipper disappeared into the storeroom and was
back again in less time than it takes to record it.
Huntingdon smiled gratefully, but made no comment.
Dinner was announced.
Up, up, me lad. Tough lines, but ye ve got to
"

avoid suspicion. It s well the savages are sober, else

there d be no controlling them. And if ye didn t stand
in such good feather with them, it d be worse for ye.
Ye vealways treated the vermin square an honorable.
They heard ye pass your Word that the wench was not
here so act up to it, or Irish Hains won t answer for
the consequences."
The skipper pushed back the heavy covering and

helped Huntingdon to his feet.

Huntingdon could scarcely stand upright. His head
throbbed, his eyeballs burned, every joint in his body
pained him, and his knees were almost bent under him.
The Irishman gave him a full tumbler of brandy, and
with it Huntingdon washed down a handful of powdered

quinine.
Again the meal was eaten in full view of the natives.
402 HELL S PLAYGROUND
twas all he
Every mouthful choked Huntingdon and
could do to restrain his stomach from rejecting it.
He crowded on more brandy natural endurance
he had none.
Over the heads of the Ouroungoes Hains bellowed :

Sampson, hurry up the boys!

"

palavering over No
not
chop! If logs ain t all stowed by four o clock
a son of Ham ll receive tuppence
"

Iguela was squatted on the veranda.

Stand-by, me lad," roared Skipper Hains. I ve
"
"

got ivories for ye to take aboard."

Inside the bedroom Hains shouted:

"

With your leave I m going to turn in, Mr. Hunting

don. Do likewise, the heat s infernal."

But Huntingdon was already in bed. Fever was again

shaking the life out of him.
Growling about the heat and the glare, the skipper
loudly banged windows and shutters to.
The chatter without died away, as the natives sought
the shade from the intense o erhead rays of the noon
day sun.
But a strict watch was kept on bungalow and beach.
Iguela lay snoring on the veranda.
For heaven s sake, Skipper," cried Huntingdon in a
"

tragic whisper,
"

tellme your plan and end my misery !

"

"

Softly, me lad, softly. One head s enough to man

age this business. Have you got a pair of decent
"

clippers ?

Huntingdon pointed to a nail on the wall.

The captain took down the clippers.
He went to the storeroom and lead out the Gabonaise.
She was pitifully weak.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 403

Huntingdon hid his head and groaned when he beheld

her lacerated flesh.

She was still nude.

Tenderly the skipper wrapped a great bath towel

about her, and placed her in a chair. He bade Hunting
don hold a pillowcase while he clipped her hair.
Not a strand of it was permitted to fall !

Not a word was spoken !

Suddenly, the Gabonaise kissed the skipper s hand !

Roughly, the skipper drew away, but there were tears

in his eyes !

The woman was sorely maimed !

Through her lacer
ated sides her ribs showed ;
her left breast was split

open and her face was swollen and distorted beyond

recognition.
Huntingdon could bear up no longer !

He threw himself on the bed and sobbed convulsively !

Tenderly the skipper lead the Gabonaise back to the

storeroom.
He held low converse with her again and again he
repeated his commands.
As he closed the door, he growled in his worst tones :

Damn nigger wenches rc more bother than they re

"

worth. But I m Irish Irish

"

He ignored the storm of emotion besieging Hunting

don.
He settled himself in a chair and smoked pipe after
pipe.
 CHAPTER XXVI
FOUR o clock came.
Black smoke belched from the Nigeria s funnels.
The logs were not nearly all loaded. The skipper
was on the beach swearing lustily. He wouldn t pay
a nigger tuppence because of slow work He was go
!

ing to put out at once! He wouldn t delay another

moment !

"

Give me until sundown," begged Sampson, the Km,

in a loud voice.
Until sundown then, you son of Ham, but not a
"

second longer raged Skipper Hains, and Sampson,

"

chicotte in hand, plunged into the surf and vigorously

belabored the perspiring crewboys.
But the tide was coming in ; the surf roared ominously,
hurling spray in all directions, and impeding the lashing
and towing of the timber. The cretvboys too were
exhausted and worked indifferently.
The natives were packed solid. They grew more
excited as the hour for the Nigeria s departure drew
nigh.
Along the beach the Commandant preceded by his
police was seen approaching. The Douane, LeBlanc,
Gottschalk and Wildman
brought up the rear.
With lowered bayonets, the guard forced a pass
through the throng.
The white men gained Huntingdon s veranda.
404
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 405

They greeted each other as though nothing were

amiss.
Drinks and cigarettes were proffered and accepted.
Every action was visible and every word spoken was
audible to the crowding natives.

Everything else was discussed save the matter in hand.

It was ignored by tacit, mutual understanding.
Odds were laid that the logs would not be stowed by
sundown. The
skipper swore repeatedly that, logs or
no logs, at sundown the Nigeria would steam away.
Although apparently the usual leave-taking when a
steamer was about to leave port, each and every white
man knew that a crisis was approaching. They felt it
in thesurcharged air the pushing and crowding of the
;

determined natives in Skipper Hains assumed bluster

; ;

and in Huntingdon s strained silence.

The Commandant had his mind made up. He would
have no blood shed for the Gabonaise. He would de
liver her to the Ouroungoes. He was
sorry to follow
such a course, but what else could he do ? His spies had
warned him that the Gabonaise had not yet been smug
gled aboard the Nigeria, that she had not passed through
the bush, and he never for an instant believed Hunting
don s assertions that the woman had escaped. Had an
attempt been made in the darkness of the previous night
to get thewoman aboard the English steamer, the Com
mandant would have abetted it. Hence the offer of his
guard to Huntingdon. But Huntingdon persisted in
declaring that the Gabonaise had escaped. Now it was
too late she must be delivered to the Ouroungoes!

Huntingdon was
in a sweat of agony. His physical
misery was nothing compared with the agony of sus-
406 HELL S PLAYGROUND

pense. How
would the skipper ever smuggle Ndio
through that watchful, vengeful crowd !

Huntingdon bent over with the weight of his woe.

The skipper gave him a terrific poke in his ribs.
good luck to Mr.
Here he roared.
"

s Huntingdon,"

Huntingdon came to life.

"

Ngumbe,"
he cried,
"

to the factory. More brandy

and absinthe !
"

"

And champagne," shouted Hains.

The drinks came thick and fast. The white men
grew more animated. They stood up drinking to each
other s health. They were nervous, all but hysterical.
The tension was telling on them.
suddenly bawled the skipper.
" "

Iguela !

The boy came forward.

Heave this stale stuff overboard and bring
"

me a
clean glass !
"

The tumbler was half full of brandy.

Iguela turned towards the galley.
The skipper s keen blue eyes followed him. His face
flamed so that the blood seemed ready to burst from their
arteries. The perspiration trickled through his white
clothing.
Suddenly Iguela raised the glass to his lips and drained
its contents !

Skipper Hains mopped the sweat from his brow. He

grew boisterous, something unusual for him. Forgetful
of his dignity he danced a fisher s The white
hornpipe.
men clapped their hands in time with his step. The na
tives looked on in stolid silence.

Suddenly the skipper resumed his dignity.

He glanced over the bay.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 407

The sun was nearing the horizon !

Another round of drinks !

The great blood-red disc of day hovered on the

water s edge, then suddenly disappeared.
A gun bellowed from the Nigeria s decks.
Down came
the ship s flag. On the beach at the
Douant s and the Commandant s flags were also lowered.
Sundown, by all the gods
"

roared Irish Hains. !

"

Logs or no logs, off we go. Sampson, every man

"

aboard Let the logs in the water go. I ve already

!

delayed too long

"

On board and
in the water there was great commotion.

Ropes were hauled in, winches withdrawn, hatches closed.

The crewboys on the unloaded logs dived into the water ;
the logs floated out with the tide.
Where s that Iguela," thundered
"

Skipper Hains.
" "

Iguela, Iguela !

The Mandigan came slowly forward.

"

Get a move on," roared the Irishman. "

Don t act
a corpse.
like Get in there and bring out them ivories.
And be quick about it."

He gave the boy a shove which sent him sprawling

within Huntingdon s bedroom.
The natives edged closer together. An ominous si

lence reigned.
At a signal from the Commandant, the sharpshooters
stood attention.
"

Gentlemen," said the skipper, and his voice rang

loud and clear in the tense
"

stillness, your company to

dinner on the Nigeria. I ve ordered a good spread."

To dinner on the
"

Nigeria,"
cried the white men in

unison, raising their glasses as one man, in a final drink.

408 HELL S PLAYGROUND
with them.
Mechanically Huntingdon had acted
The decisive moment had come.
What would happen ?
The white men instinctively drew closer together. All

but Huntingdon and the skipper.

Huntingdon was collapsing. Ndio was abandoned to
her fate.
Itwas impossible, utterly impossible to smuggle her
through that watchful, vengeful crowd.
She was lost !

The guards with lowered bayonets tried to part the

crowd.

Only a narrow opening was essayed.

The white men would have to pass through in single
file! No chance would they have to smuggle the woman
with them.
The tropical night was falling quickly.
The moon was already growing bright.
The eyes of the natives like one solid battery were
trained on the white men, while their hands rested on
their belts and fingered long, ugly-looking knives !

Iguela came slowly forth, his hands upraised to steady

the ivories on his head.
"

Make way bellowed Hains, like an enraged

there !
"

bull, pushing Iguela ahead and laying on right and left

with his short chicotte.
The crowd closed in after them. The natives mur
mured sullenly. All their faculties were alert. Then
someone whispered:
Watch Mpolo Tata Otangani!
"
"

The whisper was taken up, and, like a wave, over

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 409

the throng swept the warning: Watch Mpolo Tata

tang anil
"

make way
Sergeant, came the Commandant
!
"

crisp command.
The Malagasys forced an open path.
The white men, one by one, descended to the beach.
All save Huntingdon, who was last.
The natives closed the path and he was hemmed in.
Where is the Gabonaise? someone demanded.
" "

Then came the titanic threat:

DELIVER US THE GABONAISE !

The crisis had come!

With lowered bayonets the tirailleurs tried to force

way back
their to the Englishman.
The natives stood a solid phalanx. They budged
not an inch !

The guns of the sharpshooters were leveled !

Hammers clicked!
Awaited was the command to fire !

The lives of the white men hung in the balance!

Ragundo had expressly charged the Our-

s brothers

oungoes not to begin an assault. But once the guns of

the guard spoke, not a white man would be left to tell
the tale.
And every white man knew it!

Huntingdon tried to force his way back to the bunga

low. He would die by the side of the Gabonaise.
His act in extremis proved his salvation.
The natives blocked behind him pushed forward.
He was buffeted this way and that, but always to
wards the beach!
410 HELL S PLAYGROUND

Huntingdon had his wits now. He correctly sized

up the situation He would go to the beach

!
It would !

disarm suspicion that the Gabonaise was in his bungalow !

He rejoiced that his attempt to return to the bungalow

had not betrayed the woman s hiding place !

Huntingdon squared his broad shoulders !

The full realization of his position was upon him !

His weakness had vanished ! He did not care for his

own life, but he could not desert the Gabonaise, nor
would he permit the lives of his friends to be sacrificed
if he could avert it.

He maneuvered so that the natives who thought to

withstand him formed the rush line which made his
descent to the beach possible.
He feared every moment the Commandant s order to
fire. He knew it would be the death signal for his
comrades and himself.
He longed to cry out to the Commandant to remain
silent. But he did not wish to show fear, nor to betray
his presence.

Thanks to the fever and chills consuming him, he

wore a dark flannel shirt.

Right in front of him was big Ogula, the shootman.

Behind him was Nkombi Kakhi, his brother.
There seemed to be some understanding between the
bushmen. But Huntingdon was unaware of it.
The crowd pushed and swayed, ominously silent.
From the beach rolled a tremendous threat:
"

Who harms a hair of the Englishman s head shall

answer to England! Cape Lopez shall be shelled and
every nigger sent to hell
"

Stock-still stood the of them did not

negroes. Many
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 411

understand the words, but their portent was unmistak

able!

Huntingdon danger was now greatest.

s

His way to the beach was completely blocked by a

solid phalanx of awed natives. There had been hope
before in the pushing and shoving.
A sullen growl commenced among the Ouroungoes.
Their patience was exhausted the leash that held
them was at breaking point.
The white men were never nearer death The natives !

were mad for action, when on the surcharged air there fell
a shrill cry :

"

Chief Ragundo, he live, he live !

"

Huntingdon was startled now the Gabonaise was in

for it. No power on earth could save her !

Again helplessness enveloped him.

He could neither return to her and die with her, nor
go forward to his friends.
All was lost!
Hewould have sunk into a heap had not the dense
mass held him upright.
Then over Huntingdon s shoulder reached the mighty
arm of Nkombi Kakhi ! It rested on the shoulder of
shootman
his brother, Ogula, the !

Gently Huntingdon was forced close, close to Ogula.

The three men were as one.

Mbega, them cry be Mbega,

"

master," whispered
Nkombi Kakhi in the white man s ear.

Ah, Mbega, the busJiboy! Mbega, who had declared

Huntingdon to be his proper master seven long years
ago, and who had served him faithfully all that time 1

Courage came to Huntingdon. Let white men con-

 HELL S PLAYGROUND
tinue to desert him, three friends were left him :
Ogula,
the shootman, Nkombi Kakhi, his brother, and Mbega,
the bushboy!
There was a fighting chance Huntingdon seized it.
he whispered
Ogula, master must ketch them beach,"
"

into the ear of the giant.

The words had scarce passed his lips e er Ogula s

mighty lungs took up Mbega s cry:

Chief Ragundo, he
"

live, he live !
"

Chief Ragundo, he live, he live

"

!
"

then shouted
Nkombi Kakhi in the Ouroungo tongue.
Like a rushing wave the cry was taken up and floated

out to sea !

A gentle push from Ogula started the man in front

of him, and soon every native was desirous of reaching

the beach.

They wanted to be on hand to greet their chief as

he stepped from his canoe.
Quicker, quicker came the pace. The giant Ogula
pulled Huntingdon s arms about Nkombi his waist,
Kakhi edged closer to Huntingdon. men The three
as one, gained the beach, then Huntingdon made a
dash as Ogula, the shootman, stepped from in front of
him.
He vaulted lightly into the Nigeria s life boat, from
the stern of which flew the Union Jack !

Safe on English soil, by gad

"

thundered Skipper !
"

Hains, from the gunwale in front of Iguela, who sat

in the prow, the ivories on his knees.

The other white men were already in the boat, and

natives were plunging into the surf from all directions.
The furious incoming tide swept over the surf boat
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 413

drenching its occupants and threatening to capsize it.

Cast off, one time," roared Irish Hains, his hand on
"

Iguela s head to steady himself.

was Ogula, the shootman, Nkombi Kakhi, his
It

brother, Mbega, the bushboy, and Sampson, the Kru,

who obeyed the command.
The undertow caused the boat to pitch head on and
its occupants were thrown into a heap. Skipper Hains
fell on Iguela and roared :

Sampson, the
" "

tiller!

With one leap Sampson gained it. He threw all his

great strength against he spoke quickly in his own

it ;

tongue to his oarsmen, other mighty Krus, the pick of

his force. Dexterously the head of the boat was kept
angry surf combated her right of way,
to sea, while the
but slowly the boat was carefully worked out of the
trough and on to the rollers !

Skipper Hains doffed his helmet and welcomed the

night breeze. He sent Iguela sprawling to the bottom
of the boat and took his seat in the prow.
Out on the bay in the moonlight a sailing-canoe was
driving at full speed before the stiff breeze straight for
Cape Lopez. It was the sail which had prompted
Mbega s cry and which made his ruse possible. Hence
the natives made no attempt to stop the surf boat.

They were confident the Gabonaise was not aboard.

They awaited their chief he would find the Gabo
naise.
The Nigeria reached, Skipper Hains flogged Iguela
up the ladder.
"

Put them ivories in me cabin, and take your black

mug out of me sight,"
he bellowed.
4,14. HELL S PLAYGROUND

Huntingdon brooded in silence.

The skipper had failed him. There was but one thing
for him to do: to deliver himself to the Ouroungoes.
They would haye to accept him in lieu of the Gabo
naise.
He was more determined than ever that she should not
fall into their hands.
After the nervous strain of the past few hours, dinner
was unusually lively.
The other white men drank too much to notice Hunt
ingdon s absorption. He sat as one on whom the mantle
of death had fallen.
Huntingdon," hiccoughed the Com
Say, Monsieur
"

mandant, owe you a million apologies. I felt sure

"

you had hidden la bella Gabonaise and would attempt

to smuggle her aboard good Skipper Hains boat. Ah,
what a ravishing beauty she was Mon Dieu, such ardor !

as was hers We know, all of us, LeBlanc, Wildman,

!

Gottschalk twould be terrible for the ignorant Our

oungoes to destroy that Venus in Mahogany To thee, !

la belle Gabonaise, I send a million embraces May !

the Ouroungoes never see even the curve of thy divine

back !
"

To la belle Gabonaise," came the toast and the

"

Commandant, LeBlanc, Wildman and Gottschalk drank

deep.
Skipper Hains was busy opening a bottle of Teneriffe
wine but no one noticed his failure to
respond to the
toast.
As for Huntingdon, he was too miserable to care what
white men did. He was done with them.
The dinner seemed endless to him.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 415

After it was finished, Skipper Hains avoided him.

Huntingdon did not care. He was hardened to de
sertion when he needed succor most.

Silently he followed the other white men into the canoe

to go ashore.

Silently he took leave of them on the beach.

He pushed through the natives still surrounding his
premises; let them guard him until Doomsday, he swore
the Gabonaise would never fall into their hands !

The Nigeriapulled anchor, and steamed away.

Huntingdon bade Ngumbe close up for the night.
Apparently indifferent, Huntingdon bellowed loud for
a drink and something to smoke.
Yet all the time his brain was in a tumult.
The Gabonaise was there, in his storeroom.
Would it be his life for hers, or had he wealth enough
to buy her release from Chief Ragundo?
The old chief, himself, might be willing to accept
gold, but would he, the head of his tribe, dare violate
one of its strictest customs?
Huntingdon knew that Mbega s cry was a ruse
the bushboy had made good at the psychological moment
but Chief Ragundo was liable to come any time.
Until then Huntingdon had a part to play. He must
appear indifferent to the espionage of the natives. He
must show no anxiety to be alone.
Ngumbe must be allowed to roam about the bungalow
as was his custom. He would not enter the storeroom.
Ever since Itula had been caught thieving, no one save
Huntingdon ever entered there. was always kept
It

locked. That it was open the night of the murder was

because of the events preceding it.
416 HELL S PLAYGROUND
So far then as immediate discover} was concerned,
the Gabonmse was safe.
Should Chief Ragundo refuse to accept Huntingdon
as her substitute, or her weight in gold, then he, Hunt
ingdon, would murder the woman with his own hands !

Chief Ragundo, he live?

"

Ngumbe," he drawled,
" "

"

No, master. Mbega never see proper for him eye.

He be bushboy
"

and great was Ngumbe s contempt

"

him never see proper."

Yes, he be bushboy, proper

"

bushboy" Huntingdon
drawled.

Ngumbe, not clever in interpreting tones, grunted :

be true, him be proper bushboy"

"

Aye, it

Despite his physical weakness and the tumult in his

brain Huntingdon slowly smoked his pipe and sipped
absinthe.
He sauntered to the doorway.
He stood looking out into the night he appeared
reluctant to retire, yet all the time he was anxious to

get to the Gabonaise, and his limbs could scarce support

his body.

He ignored the thumping in his head, the sweat

deluging him, the chills freezing the very marrow; in his
bones !

Ngumbe, you fit for call master proper early when

Chief Ragundo live."

"

I fit, master."

Huntingdon waited until he heard Ngumbe talking

outside with the watchers.
He heard those not on guard separate for the
night.
In the dark, he loaded his Winchesters and
placed
them on the bed.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 417

If he were surprised, he would kill the Gabonaise.

He tiptoed to the storeroom.
*
"

Ndio," he whispered, "

come, cherie, you are safe.

There was no response.
He groped in the darkness.

He fell over her body !

She was dead of neglect while those fool foreigners

and renegade Irishman made merry !

As hatred for his fellow man rushed over him, into

life spurted all the love he had for the Gabonaise.
He fell on her breast he called her by name, he

begged her to speak to him.

He didn t care who heard him now she was dead
dead of neglect
Suddenly, he jumped up
Was he mad, raving with fever what manner of a
body lay there
He dragged it to his bedroom
He lighted a match
He gazed upon the upturned face of Igucla!
He was nude as the day he was born !

Huntingdon bent over him.

Drugged!
Like a flash of blinding light the truth came home to
Huntingdon.
The wily Irishman had lashed the imperious Gabonaise
through the very teeth of her enemies!
Thank God, white men were still white!
Huntingdon swooned.
Nature could bear no more.
 CHAPTER XXVII
THE canoe sent in search of Chief Ragundo con
tinuously called out news of the tragedy to passing
canoes and villages. The whole country thus became
aroused and natives flocked to Cape Lopez. Sadler was
on his way with cargo and every ounce of steam possible
was crowded on the little Oka and she almost flew across
the bay.
The Ouroungoes thronged about him as he landed
on Huntingdon s beach early the next morning, but,
paying no attention to them other than shoving them
out of the way, he hurried into Huntingdon s
bungalow,
crying :

"

It s a rotten mess, old man. Why didn t you tele-

gr
"

but he stopped, for there on the floor side by side

lay Huntingdon and the nude Mandigan!
had not received such a shock in many
Little Sadler
a day! At first he thought his friend was dead, but
examination showed that he was unconscious and gripped
by fever.
"

yelled Sad
"

Sunlight, Mbega, Ngumbe, Makaya !

ler, at the same time blowing his whistle furiously.

Only Sunlight and Mbega responded. When the lat

tersaw the Mandigan, his eyes nearly started from his
head with fright and he cried:
"

Iguela, Iguela, he live, he live, he never

"
go for Ni
geria!
418
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 419

The startling cry rang out clear and distinct and

brought the Ouroungoes crowding into the bungalow.
knowing nothing save that Chief Ragundo s
Sadler,
granddaughter had been murdered by the Gabonaise,
turned on the savages, and, standing between the bodies
of the white man and the Mandigan, revolver in hand, he
raged :

"

How dare you enter King Huntingdon s house ! Get

out, every one of you, or I ll pump you full of lead
"

The savages recoiled before the threat but did not

retreat. Then forward stepped one of the brothers of
Chief Ragundo and quietly, but firmly, he spoke:
Master Sadler, them Gabonaise live for murder
"

granddaughter of my brudder, Ragundo. It be proper

native law that them Gabonaise be dashed to us and when

my brudder, Chief Ragundo, live for Cape Lopez them

Gabonaise shall suffer the mboundu! "

"

What the hell do I care what you do with the nigger

wench, but you ll
get out of here. King Huntingdon
livefor sick, mpolo, mpolo, perhaps he live for ground
ketch soon and I want to give him medceen one
time !
"

The Mandigan was slowly recovering from his stupor.

As he essayed to sit up, upon him jumped an Ouroungo
demanding in Ouroungo :

"

Them Gabonaise, where he live !

"

The Mandigan, neither understanding the Ouroungo

tongue nor remembering how he came to be there on
the floor without his clothing, knew only that he was

being attacked. He grappled with the Ouroungo and

one or the other of them would have been choked to
death, had not little Sadler commanded Ragundo s
420 HELL S PLAYGROUND
brother to separate them and tell him the cause of the

palaver and he would render judgment.

The men were separated and with the unconscious
Huntingdon on the floor and the Mandigan cowering
behind Sadler for protection, Sadler listened to the events
of which he was not aware.
I be Mboomba, proper brudder to
"

Me, Ragundo
Vandji, chief of the Ouroungoes
know your pedigree," Sadler cut in. I ve no
"
"

I
time now for mpolo palaver! Negesa! and tell me for
why you make murder palaver on Iguela?
"

Mboomba, paying no heed to Sadler s command, at

tempted to continue in the usual, roundabout way of
the savage, but Sadler cut him short and demanded of

Mbega, if he knew the cause of the palaver.

master," answered the boy promptly.
"

I savvy,
"

Negesa, then, out with it

"

Them Gdbonmse live for murder them granddaugh

"

ter of Chief Ragundo "

"

For Christ s sake I savvy that," cried the nettled

white man, eager to be rid of the
negroes so that he might
give attention to Huntingdon, but at the same time fully
aware that it would precipitate bloodshed did he not
at once doaway with the palaver between the Ouroungoes
and the Mandigan. What them Mandigan do, Mbega,
"

that s what I must savvy? "

"

He
never go for Nigeria,, yet me and all them Our
oungoes look him go with ivories for him head Mas
ter Hains drive him so for beach he put him so for
surf boat me I look him so
them Ouroungoes all
look him so them surf boat he make for the Nigeria
one time, me,
Mbega, and Ogula, the shootman, and
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 421

Nkombi Kakhi, him brudder, and all them Ouroungoes

look him "

"Who?"

"

Iguela, the Mandigan."

"

What s
wrong with Iguela carrying ivories for Ni
geria? He be proper cabinboy for Skipper Hains."
be true, Master Sadler, and Mbega no savvy how
"

It

them Mandigan live for Nigeria, them Nigeria steam

way one time and them Mandigan now for here
"

live !

Light was breaking on the white man.

Them Gabonaise after him murder them Ouroungo,
"

where him live? "

Master Huntingdon say him gone for bush Com

"

mandant him send Malgash for tek them Gabonaise;

them Gabonaise no live for him house for back, me,
Mbega, and Ogula, the shootman, and Nkombi Kakhi,
him brudder, and all them Ouroungoes never look him
no more, he no live !
"

"

"Where s Makaya?
"

After him give chicotte for Gabonaise, he no live."

Makaya give chicotte for Gabonaise! and Sadler
" "

was genuinely astonished that anyone should lay violent

hands on the precious Ndio. For why Makaya he "

make so?
"

"

Gabonaise be him woman !

"

Sadler drew in his breath and thought a moment

more light was dawning upon him.
Along with the other white men, he never trusted the
Gabonaise. He knew she would betray Huntingdon
some day that day had come Makaya was the man
; ; ;

Huntingdon! had had him flog the Gabonaise but

where did the Ouroungo woman come in?
 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

After Makaya flog them Gabonaise, King Hunting

don what him live for do? Sadler next demanded of
"

Mbega.
Him blow for Ngumbe Ngumbe him brought them
"

Ouroungo for King Huntingdon s woman next day ;

sunup them Ouroungo live for die, them Gabonaise put

him twist for him throat !
"

So the Gabonaise in jealous rage had killed the Our

oungo!
"

And them Mandigan, what him live for do, Mbega?

"

"I no savvy he live for Nigeria, he no live for

Nigeria Nigeria live for go, Mandigan he live here."

Sadler waived Mbega aside, then called the Mandigan.
But Iguela feared to come forth.
"Never fear, Iguela,"
said Sadler, kindly. "Tell

master true palaver, Ouroungoes never touch your skin,

master shall keep you safe."

Encouraged and from where he stood the Mandigan

spoke :

Master Sadler, Iguela come for get them ivories for

"

Master Hains, Iguela go for storeroom Iguela be

sick for him head, he stagger for floor it be all dark

someone he ketch Iguela for neck Iguela never

look him Iguela never savvy nothing till just
now "

"

That ll Master Sadler savvy all them

do, Iguela,
palaver proper now," and addressing Mboomba, he said :

Them Gabonaise be bad woman, mpolo, mpolo; him

live for murder them
Ouroungo; him jealous because
King Huntingdon take them Ouroungo for him woman ;

him put him twist for throat of them

Ouroungo woman ;

them Ouroungo woman him live for die one time; them
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 423

Gabonaise savvy law of the Ouroungoes; him savvy him

must drink the mboundu for them Ouroungo; him
killing
steal for storeroom of King Huntingdon King Hunt;

ingdon when him say he never look Gabonaise for him

house him speak truth palaver for him mouth, for them
Gabonaise mek ju-ju palaver so them white man s eyes
no fit look him and him mouth no fit tell Ouroungoes that
them women live for him house then, when Iguela, them
;

Mandigan, go for storeroom for tek them ivories for

Nigeria, them Gabonaise mek him all same for him neck
like them Ouroungo them Mandigan fall for floor ;

them Gabonaise thief them clothes of them Mandigan

and him ju-ju Captain Hains and King Huntingdon
and them Commandant and all them peoples that him
be proper Mandigan and him go for Nigeria and him
sail way and him now live for Libreville with him pee-
"

ples !

A nervous silence followed Sadler s declaration, the

silenceengendered by superstitious fear. Sadler, wise
in theways of the savages, knew there was but one way to
exonerate Huntingdon and Hains and that was to play
upon the superstition of the savages and lay the escape
of the Gabonaise to ju-ju to her power to assume the

guise and manner of the Mandigan. Many a tale had

the savages told Sadler of their kings and chiefs assum

ing the form of a beast or a bird or of an enemy and

stealing among the enemy to find out what they were
doing. To appear to be the Mandigan was therefore
in the savage opinion not impossible to the Gabo
naise; the Ouroungoes firmly believed that she really

ju-ju d the white men and themselves and had escaped

as Sadler explained.
424 HELL S PLAYGROUND
For the time being the escape of the Gabonaise was
eclipsed by her manner of effecting
it. The Mandigan
had nothing to fear, he was but a tool in the hands of
the powerful and cunning Gabonaise.
But Sadler had not yet said all he wished to say, and,
midst the continued silence, he went on :

And them Great White King when him look them

"

Mandigan for him floor, him savvy them Gabonaise

make ju-ju palaver, and fear ketch him and he fall for
floor and now fever ketch him skin and he be proper

sick, proper sick and now Master Sadler fit put him
for bed and when him eye he open the Great White King
fit for
say for him mouth truth palaver all same like
Master Sadler just finish tell you; and he fit dash all
Ouroungoes tacco and rum, and when Chief Ragundo
come the Great White King he send for Libreville and
he ketch them Gabonaise and he dash them woman to
Chief Ragundo !
"

"

Aye," grunted the savages satisfied, and they left

the bungalow to wait on the beach for the
coming of
their chief.
With the aid of the Mandigan, Sunlight, Mbega,
Nkombi Kakhi, and Ogula, the shootman, Huntingdon
was placed in his bed.

Inquiry was then made for Ngumbe, but he was miss

ing. Sadler opined that Ngumbe had found his master
in the morning, and,
early thinking he was dead, had
stolen as much of his clothing as he could
carry, and
had run away to the bush.
Sadler piled Huntingdon with bed
covering, and, put
ting hot stones about him to induce warmth, sat by his
side, awaiting the coming of consciousness. He was
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 425

alone, and, when hour after hour passed, and Hunting

don showed no signs of returning life, little Sadler
involuntarily dropped on his knees, and for the first
time since he was a lad of fourteen he begged a favor
of God he begged
: for the life of his friend !

Then, looking shamefacedly about him, he made sure

that no one witnessed his prayer. Had a native been
present, he would assuredly have murdered him !

Huntingdon s condition greatly alarmed the little

skipper. He had seen much sickness in his time and
he knew a grave case at sight. A nurse was needed
a civilized woman would be a God-send. But, alas, none
was at hand. Still there were savage women. They at
least knew how to treat fever, how to induce warmth and
perspiration. Unless perspiration showed and showed

quickly, Huntingdon was lost. Thought of Moore s

woman came to Sadler. She knew white men s ways he ;

would go for her himself. He

leaped down the veranda
steps, just as a canoe landed on the beach and out of
it stepped Madame Leon, the missionary !

He recalled then that he had passed her on The

Eclaireur on the Ogowe. She was en route to Cape
Lopez to take the French steamer next day to Europe.
Her husband had been dead over a year but she had
remained at the mission until her husband s successor
and showing them everything
his wife came, and, after
about the work of the mission, she was returning to
Switzerland for an indefinite sojourn.
Sadler was overjoyed to see her, and, telling her of
Huntingdon s danger, he led her into Huntingdon s
chamber.
One glance of the woman s experienced eyes was
426 HELL S PLAYGROUND
Her duty was there, to save the life of a
enough.
fellow creature.
"

will you please have all my luggage

Mr. Sadler,
here? I shall not sail for Europe to-morrow."
brought
Sadler was
Although older and thinner and paler,
still the boy. unexpected announcement and
At the

succor, he impulsively bent over and kissed Madame

full

on the mouth.
No blush overspread Madame s spirltuclle face; she

thoroughly understood the little skipper, and, putting

her hands confidingly in his, she gently pressed them
and steadily into his blue eyes,
she said in a low
looking
voice :

"

If it be God s will, you and I will nurse Mr. Hunt

ingdon back to life and health."
With two such friends at his bedside and with Mbega,
the watchdog, in the factory, and Ogula, the shootman,
and Nkombi Kakhi, his brother, on guard without, Hunt
ingdon was indeed blessed !

At sundown Moore s gig sailed across the bay before

a stiff breeze. The news of the tragedy had caused him
to leave unfinished his work in the bush, and set out at
once to see what help he could render Huntingdon. He
recognized the latter s peril from the Ouroungoes. In
their rage they might kill the white man because of the

escape of the Gabonaise!

When Moore found Sadler and Madame Leon at

Huntingdon s bedside, jealousy flared up within him,

but when he heard all the facts from little Sadler,
and recognized what extreme danger Huntingdon was,
in

Moore s better nature came forth, and he, too, offered

his services.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 427

"

You
can do nothing here, old man," said Sadler
but you can do something for me
"

gratefully, if you

will?"

Name
"

cried Moore, the old bluster in his voice,

it,"

but eagerness and good-fellowship in his manner.

Huntingdon and I, dear old chap, have been pretty
"

close to each other want to be on hand, if the worst

-
I
comes I want to lay him away properly to send
a cable home to see that the niggers don t rob him

but, if there s a fighting chance for his life, and we ll

soon know whether there is or not, I want to be on hand
to help him make it I can t stay away from Larnbar-

ene, there s too much business to be looked after, could

"

you
"

Sure I can go,"

Moore interrupted,
"

if you ll
keep
an eye on my place here."

"

You bet I will, old man."

"

Then I ll cross Yombe flats on the early morning

tide with the Oka. But you ll
keep me informed of how
"

things re going?
Never fear, pard, you shall have a wire every day
"

two, three, four of them, if necessary."

With his old, careless swagger Moore set out for his
own bungalow. Sadler looked after him with
Little
tears in his eyes, and murmured, Scratch an English
"

man deep enough, and you ll find his heart."

Madame Leon spent hours on her knees praying
fervently that consciousness might return to Hunting
don. Sadler nervously paced back and forth on the
veranda. While Huntingdon s condition distressed him
infinitely and he despaired of his life, he feared that
Madame s constant kneeling and concentration in prayer
428 HELL S PLAYGROUND

might render her ill and he would have two invalids on

his hands.

In that moment he longed for the close companionship

of a white woman he fully appreciated for the first
;

time what exile in Africa meant ;

what a void was in his

is who is not
life; what an incomplete creature a man
mated to a woman of his own kind. Love for the gentle,

self-sacrificing missionary woman came to him ;

he re
solved to cast away and to ask her
forever his old life
to share his future. The decision could not have come
to Sadler under normal conditions for it meant a re
;

the giving up of the absolute

versal of his whole life ;

freedom in which he had theretofore reveled, the ac

ceptance of service; the desertion of trade and the join
ing of Madame Leon in her work of the attempted
salvation of the savage. That work was Madame s

whole and he would not ask her to relinquish it she

life ;

would teach him what to do and he would relieve her of

the most arduous part of it. Sadler fully appreciated
the derision he would have to bear from his friends but
to be prayed for by a woman, to be so tenderly nursed, to
be a matter of concern to her, to have her companionship,

sympathy and love, were worth the sacrifice of habits

no matter of what age or worth or enjoyment!
He went into the room, intending to raise her from
her knees and beg her to seek rest and leave the
vigil to
him, when suddenly from Huntingdon s lips there rushed
a flow of incoherent sentences. Silence and inertia were
broken delirium and restlessness had come.
;
Gradually
Huntingdon s speech became clear. He babbled of his
life at home; his love for
Marjorie; his pleading for
his mother s consent to
permit him to go to Africa to
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 429

engage in trade to make money for Marjorie s sake;

over and over again he cried out his oath of fidelity and
her pledge given in return. He
lived again the long

days and nights of loneliness ; he spoke of the coming

of the missionaries; the delight he experienced in
Madame Leon the regret and rage that fol
s society ;

lowed the forced abandonment of further visits to the

Rest House.
Delirium cried aloud all the suffering sanity had con
cealed. Again and again he repeated the litany that
had supported him when endurance was all but gone ;

then he spoke of his illness and the coming of the

Gabonaise; he screamed at the top of his lungs that she
was naught but his nurse and whoso said she was closer
to him, lied damnably ; he was waiting for the mail, for
Marjorie s letter; name their wedding day
she would
and his purgatory would end. Word for word and over
and over again, he repeated Marjorie s letter; he
laughed like a maniac and demanded if he were not

right in disdaininga defense; he arraigned Marjorie se

verely for her doubt of him, then he pleaded for death
and release! Then came his life with the Gabonaise; she
brought him oblivion, she blotted out civilization and its
cruelties she brought him surcease from past tortures
;

only to inflict deeper ones upon him !

His ravings were not consecutive but they were com

plete and they brought torture almost beyond endurance
to Madame Leon and little Sadler.
Was there no way to bring relief to a human creature

helpless in body and acutely active in mind Oh, how !

Madame Leon longed for ice for the hot, throbbing

head; for cooling drink for the parched throat! She
430 HELL S PLAYGROUND
wished she had never come to Africa; that she had
never met Huntingdon, such acute agony did his suf

fering and helplessness bring to her. Much native

suffering had she relieved and, although sympathy for
the sufferer was always alive within her, yet it never

gripped her so vitally as did the suffering of this white

man. There was a difference, a great difference. The
savage was after all an alien while the white man was of
her race, the tie of complexion bound them and it was a
strong one.
Madame Leon could pray no more. She looked on
helpless and became active again only when Ogula, the
shootman, held to Huntingdon s lips a steaming draught
redolent of lemon. She knew what it was: a tea made
from the leaves of the lime tree. She took the tin from
Ogula, and, while Sadler held the sufferer s head, she
slowly fed the liquid to him.
She had her water bottles filled with water as hot as
they could bear; she placed them along Huntingdon s
spine and at his feet; she had her own blankets tucked
tightly about him, and compresses, wrung from the only
cold water at hand, that from the sea, were
constantly
applied to the base of his brain and about his head.
The delirium gradually passed,
deep sleep and regu
lar breathing came and perspiration deluged the sufferer.
The crisis had passed ! Madame Leon could again pray
and thank the Giver of Life for His mercies and bless
Him therefor.
When consciousness was slowly fighting for life and
impressions were returning to Huntingdon, the face of
the white woman
bending over him was but one of the
many ghosts that trooped through his disordered brain.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 431

Gradually, she became a reality he knew not whom she

;

was or whence she came he knew only that she was a

;

white woman. Pleasure and gratitude lived a moment

in his eyes, then were gone he was too weak for further
;

emotion or expression.
As he grew stronger he studied her intently as though
he had never seen a white woman it was but nature s
;

way of winning him back to his own race; then full

remembrance came to him. He knew who she was he ;

felt her sweet personality ;

he remembered the impression
she had made upon him at their first meeting, oh, so

long ago ;
he recalled his visits to the Rest House, then
he flushed with shame as thoughts of the Gabonaise
followed.
The danger passed, Sadler set out for Lambarene and
Moore came back to Cape Lopez. At night he insisted
upon nursing Huntingdon while Madame Leon sought
a separate room and rest. She was thoroughly ex
hausted and ill. But she said naught, and Moore was
too much concerned about Huntingdon to take note of

Madame, other than his insistence that she rest during

the night and let him take her place. Moore also took
complete charge of Huntingdon s house and resided
there. He installed his own cook in the galley he had ;

the cook teach Iguela the proper duties of a houseboy.

He looked in often at the factory, but he knew Mbega
was faithful and competent. Nkombi Kakhi and Ogula
took turns night and day on the front veranda keeping
all disturbance from the sick man.

It was to his friends unceasing care and vigilance that

Huntingdon owed his life.
He was removed to the veranda. The sea sobbed and
432 HELL S PLAYGROUND
moaned as of old, and the giant cocoanut-trees sighed
incessantly, but Huntingdon heard only the sweet, low
voice of the woman who nursed him, he was interested
only in her.
She was tall, slim and graceful.
In her simple gown
of cool, fresh, white linen, with her soft, wavy brown
hair combed from her square forehead into a knot at
the base of her neck, her face and brow free of lines,

and in her eyes human sympathy and understanding, she

was wonderfully magnetic and attractive. She was not
beautiful in the true sense of the word, and she was so

spirituelle as to suggest frailty, but she was tremen

dously womanly, and her frailty masked strength and
endurance. Save her continued pallor and a deeper
expression in her beautiful brown eyes, she appeared
no older than when Huntingdon first saw her. And
she had suffered much during that period: she had

gone to Europe where her child was born and died after
six short weeks of life After two years she had re
!

turned to the mission at Lambarene and found things

sadly neglected in her absence then came her husband s
;

lingering illness and death, and her continuance alone in

her chosen work until such time as relief came.

Huntingdon fancied what she would look like in

Europe where temperate breezes blow and where the sun
nourishes instead of kills. With this thought in mind
he abruptly asked:
"

Madame Leon, you must be pining for civilization,

are you not?
"

Madame Leon smiled and playfully rebuked :

"

My
patient is so well now that he wishes to be rid of his
nurse."
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 433

No, no, no Huntingdon hastily protested, then

" "

he added helplessly Why, what would I do were you

"

to go? "

and
loneliness and emptiness gripped him.
"

You
have your work, Monsieur Huntingdon it is ;

only through work that we find happiness and content

ment."

"

Tell me, and Huntingdon, unconscious

Clothilde,"

of the use of her name, demanded

"

are you first :

"

happy, have you ever been happy?

When human creatures are far removed from the land
of their birth, when they are distant from their own kind,
when they have suffered and endured and striven against
almost hopeless odds, the pretenses of civilization vanish
never again to return and exiles are absolutely nat
ural.
Thus no thought of evasion came to Madame Leon,
nor did she resent Huntingdon s question. She an
swered simply and directly :

Yes, I have been happy."

"

"When?"

"

Now m
happy, wonderfully so, because I ve
I

brought you back to life God has answered my prayers, ;

you will live."

At which words Huntingdon knew he loved this

woman that love for her first came into being long, long
;

ago at the Rest House; he knew now why he had so ve

hemently resented the slander against her and the loss
of her companionship; why he had acted so as to make
her believe he was thoroughly bad and heartless ; why he

grew well he wanted to live to be with her always

; ; !

"

Clothilde, I love you,"

he said simply, then gently
asked: "Do
you love me?"
434 HELL S PLAYGROUND
"

I love you, Cecil, very, very much," Madame Leon

answered promptly.
Huntingdon did not offer to touch her, but for a long
time he gazed steadily into her eyes, while in thought
his life passed in review
unworthy !

No rancor remained against Marjorie and the Gabo-

naise, what was done was done, but o er Huntingdon

swept the anguish that he was not good enough for the
gentle woman who continued to gaze so trustfully into
his eyes he turned away he closed his eyes that she ;

might not see the misery within them, but love is intuitive
and the woman spoke :

"

The past we grow through our

is dead, my beloved ;

sins suffering ; cleansing and is

purifying we have
both suffered, and we are both better and stronger
for it."

Huntingdon folded her in his arms and kissed her.

There was no passion in his caress ; it was sweet with
reverential love.
"

And when shall we be married, Clothilde, cherie? "

"

When you will."

"

And where? "

"

At the mission at Lambarene."

"

All right then here s our plans : in seven weeks

the Nigeria and Captain Hains are due we ll
go back to ;

Europe with him. In the meantime, you and I will go to

Lambarene and be married; Mr. Sadler and Mr. Moore
shall be best men and the wife of the missionary shall
be Matron of Honor "

But are you strong enough, Cecil, dear?

"
"

"

I feel as though I never had an illness in my life -

thanks to you "
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 435

But you are weak, you can deny that I know

"

still t ;

you are weak."

"

Yes, I m still weak, but love and happiness are the

greatest panacea in the whole world and I shall soon be
well again."

And The cold, dry season

he prognosticated truly.
was again on, green vegetables were again plentiful,
Madame Leon herself prepared the appetising dishes set
three times daily on the table, and with her and Moore
as companions Huntingdon was renewed both in mind
and body and his illness seemed to have blotted out his
past life and his sufferings. He lived only for his mar
riage and his return to Europe.
He about closing up his affairs. He sent for
set

Chief Ragundo, to whom he made ample monetary pay

ment for the untimely loss of his granddaughter. But
was shown by the old chief, that Hunt
so little sentiment

ingdon might just as well have been paying for rubber

or black wood.
Huntingdon looked about for a trustworthy man to
take charge of his factories. He intended to return to
Africa every two years to see that all was going well
with his enterprise. Perhaps he would not return at all
if he could find the right man to take his place. But
telegrams throughout the bush and cables north and
south along the coast brought no competent man.
Huntingdon wrote to Sadler of his betrothal to
Madame Leon and begged the little skipper to act as
best man along with Moore.
Keen was the blow to Sadler. Ever since his determi
nation to ask Madame Leon to be his wife, he had lived
as she would have wished him to live, he had also cabled
436 HELL S PLAYGROUND
John Holt giving up his berth and asking that his relief

be sent out at once. But so deeply did Sadler love Hunt

ingdon that he rejoiced that Huntingdon had
won Ma
dame; he would be a more fitting husband for her; he
could provide the comforts she needed and the station
in life to which her sweetness, refinement and education

had fitted her. He knew Huntingdon would take her

from her missionary work he was glad because he fully
;

appreciated that Africa is no place for a white woman

and that her life and health are needlessly sacrificed
there. A white woman s place is in civilization where
she is needed ;
where her work and sacrifices are appre
ciated and result in lasting good. Africa is savage and
will ever remain so.

Infinite weariness and loneliness descended upon Sad

ler after Madame Leon as his future wife did not occupy
his thoughts, but he immediately wired his congratula
tions toHuntingdon and his best wishes to Madame, tell
ing her what a good sort Huntingdon was that he was ;

the only man on earth worthy of her. He ended his

telegram with the words I m jealous." she He knew

"

would consider it his continued playfulness, yet it gave

him the satisfaction of having expressed the first thought
which had come to him on receipt of Huntingdon s
letter. But not a trace of j ealousy was left in the little
skipper s heart. Madame would be the wife of the first

human being Sadler ever loved ; now he loved two per

sons and their happiness was his
happiness, their joys
his joys.
He came again to Cape Lopez with cargo. He mar
veled at the change both in and Madame.
Huntingdon
They did not look like the same creatures ; even Moore
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 437

was changed. Sadler was also changed for the better.

But we never see ourselves as others see us, and the first

dinner the friends had together was a mutual expression

(

of joy for the improved health and appearance of the

other.

Huntingdon expressed hisregret to Sadler of not

being able to find anyone to take his place while he was
in Europe.
How would
"

I do? "

laughed the little skipper.

"

Do !
you d be the very man, but how about
Holt? "

"

Oh, I resigned long ago."

"Honest?"

"

Yes."

"When?"

"

My resignation went to Europe immediately after

you were taken ill

perhaps my relief will be on the
Nigeria."
"

And why did you resign, Sadler, my boy, may your

old friend ask?
"

Perhaps because I was selfish and wanted a better

"

job,"
answered Sadler roguishly, keeping his secret.
"

I really don t deserve all this luck, old chap,"

Hunt
ingdon confessed. But Sadler interrupted:
"

Whoso
has a better right to inherit all the good

things of life than Huntingdon, the Great White King.

Is it not so, Madame Leon?
"

Madame s answer was a smile more expressive than

any words she might have employed.
Cecil Huntingdon and Clothflde Leon were quietly
married at Lambarene, in the presence of the missionary
and his wife, and Sadler and Moore. The ceremony was
438 HELL S PLAYGROUND
at high noon and a simple wedding breakfast followed.
There were no wedding gifts.
Huntingdon and his bride returned to Cape Lopez on
the Avante-Garde and Sadler and Moore on the Oka.
When the Nigeria dropped anchor, Moore and Sadler
were immediately up her ladder, giving Skipper Hains
the news. Hains was delighted and he set out at once
to see Huntingdon s bride and to wish them all happiness.
Then at the first opportunity, he confided a secret to

Huntingdon. He, too, was to be married on his arrival

in Liverpool; that was his last long coast voyage; there

after, his route would be only as far south as Sierra

Leone, necessitating only two months absence from
home instead of from four to six.
Twas Huntingdon day in Cape Lopez. He
s last

took Sadler into his chamber and closed the door. Sad
ler was now in his employ, Sadler s relief having come on
the Nigeria.

Huntingdon drawled
"

Sadler, old chap,"

in his laziest

manner, which drawl he had not employed in many

a moon, you and I ve neglected to talk salary. You re
"

Chief Agent, you know, and your salary s 2,000

sterling, a year."
Sadler couldn t
speak, he had expected only the ordi
nary third-term trader s salary, and he was offered a
yearly stipend earned only by a few agents of twenty-
five or more
years experience.
"

And, Sadler, old chap," Huntingdon proceeded in a

drawl more lazy than ever, let Mbega continue on, and,
"

as I don t want you to have the

drudgery of the factory,
I ll send out an extra clerk for
Cape Lopez at Mboue, ;

Ninga Sika and Agouma, I m going to make a change

 HELL S PLAYGROUND 439

from black government clerks which are up there now to

Englishmen from home, so, as they come out, I wish
you d look after them, take them into the interior, get
the black clerk out quietly, with proper notice of course,
and show the tenderfeet what they re to do. Now I
want to do something for Moore ; can you suggest any
"

thing?
Sure," answered the little skipper, himself again be
"

cause he was relieved of expressing thanks, not because

he did not desire to express his appreciation of Hunt
ingdon s generosity and the trust placed in him, but
such thanks as he cared to offer would bring tears with
them and Sadler wouldn t let any man see him cry.
"

You know, Huntingdon, that Moore s had the same old

fat slob all these years ;

he s tired of her long ago, but
it was just since your illness and since Madame Leon
oh, I beg your pardon, Great White King, since her
Highness, Queen Huntingdon, came amongst us and
brought us back to decency and health and civiliza
all

tion, that he confided to me that he wanted to be rid of

the wench and go back to civilization, but the woman s

got such a hold on him that she swears she ll

poison
him if she even suspicions he wants to go home. You
savvy what devils these nigger women are."
I savvy," answered Huntingdon, solemnly, and that
"

was the only discussion of black women held between the

friends since the death of the Ouroungo. Now send "

Moore to me, please."

began Huntingdon without any prelimi

"

Moore,"

nary, and continuing in his lazy West-end drawl, how "

long have you been out here?

"

Seventeen years."
"
440

Been home time? "

"

in all that
"

No."
"
"

An} relatives and friends in civilization ?

An Why ?
"
"

old mother, and a girl left behind.

Oh, Sadler and I have been palavering, that s all.

"

Sit down at that desk and write a cable to Hatton and

Cookson resigning your berth and ask for a man to re
place vou to be sent out immediately
"

"

Why, whv, why blustered the big Moore, but

not heeding the interruption Huntingdon drawled on :

You can figure out exactly how long it will take

"

your relief to get here; in the meantime softly, softly

close out your affairs here I will have cabled you in
;

cipher what boat your man s due on a week before his ;

ship docks here, you re to set out ostensibly on your

rounds in the Ogowe, but you re to make for Libreville
where you ll find the BruxeUsville with steam up ready
to set out for civilization ;
she ll wait for you and on her

you ll find your first class passage paid for. Go back

to civilization, hunt up the girl and get married."

Gad Huntingdon, I ve been aching

"

! to go back this

long time who told you ? "

"

Sadler now, now, old chap, I want no thanks, just

follow my instructions and that ll be thanks enough.
And, Moore," Moore was writ
Huntingdon continued as
ing his resignation, want somebody to represent me
"

I
in Liverpool; d you want the 2,000 ster
job, salary,
ling, same as Sadler s ?
"

"

Huntingdon, I I
"

stammered the big Moore,

but Huntingdon drawled:
"

With you and little Sadler watching my interests,

all I ll have to do is to count profits so see, old
you
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 441

chap, it s
mostly selfishness on my part,"
then he blew
his whistle.
When Iguela came, Huntingdon sent for Mbega,
Ogula, the shootman, and Nkombi Kakhi, his brother.
He questioned Mbega first:
"

What thing, Mbega, can Master Huntingdon dash

you before he lef Cape Lopez?
"

"

them money be due for my womans."

4, sterling,
You shall have them one time, Mbega. Master Sad
"

ler be proper master here when I go for home and every

moon Master Sadler be fit to pay you extra money."

"

How much? "

"What you think?"

"

Five shillings ?
"

"

Five shillings it be, Mbega, for faithful service

to Master Huntingdon."
"

grinned the erstwhile busliboy.

Azvaka,"

Ogula, the shootman, came next.

Ogula, what Master Huntingdon
"

fit fer dash you?

"

Him
magazine rifle and ammunition," answered the
"

shootman, promptly.
Ogula, you savvy French law be proper strict about
"

transfer of firearms and ammunition to natives, but if

them Commandant never give consent, then Master
Huntingdon get book from France savvy France,
Ogula?"

Aye, I savvy him he be place where big French

"

king live."

And
Ogula, besides your wages as shootman, for
"

the rest of your life, Master Sadler fit for dash you
for Master Huntingdon impot for pay them French so s
Commandant never put you for jail; also all the tacco
 442 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and cloth you and your woman personally require, and
one bottle of rum every Saturday night."
It be dash, mpolo, grunted the savage.
"

mpolo,"
"

Now Nkombi Kakhi? "

"

You fit, O Great White King, dash me all same like

brudder, Ogula, the shootman?

"

my
"

"

I proper fit, Nkombi Kakhi. Master Sadler

fit,
mek
all same dash palaver with you as with your brudder,
Ogula, the shootman."

grunted Nkombi Kakhi, and, with the

"

Awaka"

others, he disappeared to spread throughout the land

the tale of the Great White King s generosity.
to the Nigeria
Iguela begged to be permitted to return
which permission Huntingdon was glad to grant, ac
companied with money, cloth, matches, tobacco and a
dozen clay pipes.

The beach was crowded with natives when Huntingdon

took his departure. Chief Ragundo was also there.
The tragedy seemed forgotten. Once again the white
man was their Mpolo Tata Otangani their Great
White King.
From amidships of his canoe where he was seated
with his bride and Sadler and Moore, for the last time

Huntingdon addressed Ouroungoes :

"
1
Mbangane, mbangane. Ragundo, great chief of
the Ouroungoes and all him peeples. When moon and
sun he live and die mpolo, mpolo, when dry and wet
season he ketch mbani, mbani? Mpolo Tata Otangani
fit look Ragundo, chief of the Ouroungoes, and all his

1
Good-bye.
2 In two years.
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 443

peeples again and until then he wishes you all luck,

1
mpolo, mpolo. Mbangane, mbangane."

Aye, mbangane, Mpolo Tata Otangani,

"

mbangane."
"

Aye," responded Huntingdon, solemnly,

"

mban
gane."

In Sadler s
gig were Mbega, Ogula, the shootman, and
Nkombi Kakhi, his brother, and Chief Ragundo.
In the Commandant s gig with the Commandant were
the Douane, LeBlanc, Wildman and Gottschalk.
As Huntingdon was about to mount the Nigeria s
ladder, he motioned Sadler gig to come alongside, then, s

reaching over, Huntingdon fervently wrung the hands

of his faithful serviteurs and that of Chief Ragundo.
He again assured them of his continued protection and
aid through Master Sadler.

Ogula, the shootman, made answer.

Aye, dkawa mpolo, Mpolo Tata Otangani!
" "

"

Aye,"
came the acquiescence of Nkombi Kakhi, his

brother, Mbega and Chief Ragundo.

On the Nigeria s deck, champagne was drunk, good-
bys repeated again and again, and mutual promises made
to write to each other.
Time
"

s up, me lads," cried Skipper Hains, to those

who were to go ashore. If I never see ye again, take
"

care o ye rsel s, and if ye have all the good luck I m

after wishin ye, ye ll be so happy it won t be natural."
Huntingdon walked to the ladder and bade a solemn
farewell to the Commandant, the Douane, LeBlanc, the

Frenchman, and Wildman, the Swiss.

To one side and looking down their noses stood Sadler
and Moore.
i
Very much, or great.
444 HELL S PLAYGROUND
and pressed
Huntingdon grasped each by the hand
it hard and long, but not a word did he or they speak
none was necessary.
He watched descend the ladder, take their
his friends
with his hand about his
places in Sadler s gig, then,
wife s waist, he waved a last farewell.
In silence Moore and Sadler were rowed to shore. In
silence they stood on the beach. With heads uncovered
the northern
they watched the Nigeria disappear on
horizon line.
Tata Otangani, mpolo, mpolo," murmured Ogula,
"

the shootman, to Nkb mbi Kakhi, his brother.

quoth Moore to Sadler, one of nature s best.

"
"

Aye,"

May good luck and good health come to him and his
"

But Sadler could not respond. In silence he and

Moore sought their respective bungalows. But the
morrow brought them together again, and, until Moore s
departure for civilization which Sadler played a
in

prominent part every night found them in each other s

company. Moore was a new man and in Sadler he found

a staunch, sympathetic comrade. Sadler genuinely re

gretted Moore s departure, but the little skipper was

glad that happiness had eventually come to Moore. For
Sadler, there was no girl left behind no mother waiting ;

for or depending upon him his place was in Africa.

;

Huntingdon trusted him implicitly and he would fulfill

that trust as long as life was left him. Madame Leon
he loved in a sort of a way but all the love his great
nature was capable of was given to Huntingdon that

day, oh, so long ago, when Huntingdon first landed on

the beach and Sadler had declared to Moore that he
was for him! When he named Huntingdon the Great
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 445

White King he was but voicing the impression Hunting

don had made upon him. He was content in serving and
in rendering a just stewardship. Huntingdon s busi
ness went on increasing and to-day he is the biggest and
most successful independent white trader on the entire
West Coast of Africa.

When the Nigeria anchored off Libreville on her re

turn voyage up coast, the first news to reach Hunting
don was the death of the Gabonaise. The secret poison
of the Ouroungoes had found her out. She had suffered
the atonement!

Huntingdon was surprised and delighted when Wallace

boarded the Nigeria at Old Calabar. Smallpox had fol
lowed fever and he was badly scarred, aged and infirm.
He was returning to
civilization to pass the rest of his

days with the family he had so ignominiously outraged.

He owed their forgiveness of him to the persons he de
tested most: returned missionaries, who plead with his

family to take him back, that his days were numbered.

The old coaster showed his gratitude in a peculiar
manner: he continued to gossip garrulously and mali
ciously of everything and everybody other than mission
aries. Although he never sought their society and never
entered a church at home, yet against them not a word
did he utter, and when he died, the only writing he left
was the request that the sky-pilot say a prayer over
"

his carcass, and the church choir hold song-palaver over

his grave."

On
the Nigeria he regaled Huntingdon with the gossip
of the coast. He fully described the deaths of little
Hertford, Longworthy and Cartwright; he opined that
446 HELL S PLAYGROUND
the natives had
secretly poisoned Captain Haywood;
and Boynton, who died from drowning, had evidently
tumbled into the water when he was intoxicated.
Kingsford, the last of those who had voyaged out
together to Hell s Playground, was doing well. Lazy
and selfish, he took excellent care of himself; to the na
tives he played Legree; they hated and feared him ;

to his trading firm he was invaluable and was their

Chief Agent.
After all
"

is said and done," remarked the old coaster

in his familiar irritating drawl and with his familiar
emphasis,
"

at home s the place for a white man, and

though he may go a-ramblin about earth in his

the"

youth and madness, yet when the joints stiffen up and

the step lags, he s glad to crawl back to where he be

longs and he s sorry he ever left it but youth is

youth and ever will be youth and will ever know it all

until hard knocks and inhumanity beat sense into their

heads and teach them the true palaver of life."
Lady Bedford gazed with pride upon the son who
folded her in his arms at Liverpool. Cecil had always
been ditmgue; it was the heritage of ancestry, but now
he was truly regal. His tall form had filled out; his
blond hair was gray ; his eyes were bright with happi
ness,and he carried himself with the ease and confidence
that come to a man after he has made a hard
fight and
won out!
As for the woman he had married, one glance of
Lady Bedford swas enough to prognosti
critical eyes
cate the sensation her presentation at court would make.
She was well worthy to be enrolled
among the noble
women of the families of the Bedfords. the Granvilles
 HELL S PLAYGROUND 447

and the Huntingdons. Lady Bedford embraced her

and called her: Nothing else could have
"

Daughter"

pleased Huntingdon more. He knew he had chosen

wisely and well.
Lord Bedford firmly grasped his son s hands and
said, with admiration and pride in his low tones :

"

You ve won out, Cecil, my son, you ve been true to

the traditions of our family, and you ve brought us a
worthy daughter."
There were tears in Huntingdon s eyes, but they were
tears of
joy !

Huntingdon and his bride looked healthier than they

really were. The happiness within them glowed without,
sun and sea breezes had tanned their cheeks and colored
them, but, alas, malaria was in their arteries, it was to
torture them as long as they lived, but it did not pre
vent their continued happiness and coming of children.
Marjorie, the Duchess of Southland, and Huntingdon
were bound to meet. She was every inch the grande
dame. Time had dwelt gently with her and whatever
her feelings were, she successfully masked them.
The Duke, her husband, was notoriously false to her,
she had given him three sons and a daughter, the entail
was safe, but, in their private life the Duke and Duchess
were strangers to each other. Huntingdon was filled
with sorrow at this knowledge, but to Clothflde alone
did he express that sorrow between him and his wife were
;

perfect trust and confidence.

Out of Hell s Playground came some good after all !

THE END
 University of California
SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY
405 Hilgard Avenue, Los Angeles, CA 90024-1388
Return this material to the library
from which was borrowed.
it

JAN 1 1994

0, OCT18WM
-a lfi-ffl.

WAY
 LIBRARY FACILITY

A 000820510