A White King in East Africa: The Remarkable Adventures of John Boyes, Trader and Soldier of Fortune, Who Became King of the Savage Wa-KikuyuBoyes, John
History
A White King in East Africa: The Remarkable Adventures of John Boyes, Trader and Soldier of Fortune, Who Became King of the Savage Wa-Kikuyu
Boyes, John
Africa, East; Kikuyu (African people)
I started off with only about ten men, and when we got within a few
hundred yards of the mutineer’s village, I told the men to stay behind,
while I went on to talk to the headman. They had evidently got news of
my coming, and were waiting for me, as I could see about fifty men, all
fully armed, with the chief in front, drawn up to receive me, and I had
no doubt that others were in ambush near by. The man was a fine big
fellow, every inch a chief, and I knew that I could only hope to succeed
by showing a bold front, bravery being about the only virtue a savage
recognizes. As I advanced alone they appeared to be impressed, and a
grunt of approbation passed round. The crisis had arrived, and I knew
that only sheer bluff could carry me through; so, before the chief could
guess my intention, I sprang on him like a flash, and dealt him a blow
with the knobkerrie which laid him senseless on the ground, at the same
time shouting to his followers to throw down their weapons, as my men
had them covered with their guns, and they would all be shot if they
attempted to resist. Standing over the chief, with my hand on my
revolver, I was ready to face the crowd, but, to my great surprise, they
all threw down their weapons. It must be remembered that I was believed
to possess mysterious powers, which probably accounts in some measure
for their ready submission.
Having made the warriors put all their weapons in a heap, I ordered them
to bring in some sheep and goats which they had stolen, and had the
chief carried to my camp, while the sheep and goats were driven into my
village, the whole of the warriors marching ahead of me till I reached
my own people. After giving them a good feed, I gave them a good talking
to, and dressed the wound on the chief’s head, binding it up with some
sticking-plaster; while, to show that there was no ill-feeling, I
invited his followers to spend the night in my camp, and return to their
own village in the morning.
During the night I heard an awful row, and, rushing out to see what had
happened, I found that the two parties of natives had been sitting round
the fire, drinking njoi, and having imbibed too freely, had started
their quarrels all over again. The old men of the village were fighting
with the chief I had brought in, who was defending himself with the flat
of his sword. My appearance speedily put an end to the disturbance, and,
taking the chief into my own quarters, I ordered my men not to allow any
one to go near him. No further trouble occurred during the night, and
the following morning the chief returned with his own people to their
village. We parted the best of friends, and for the remainder of my stay
in the country he was one of my best men.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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