His favorites and the women kept on bended knees during this solemn
visit. By means of a few drops of powerful cordial, the doctor for a
moment reanimated the imbruted carcass that lay before him. The sultan
stirred, and, for a dead body that had given no sign whatever of life
for several hours previously, this symptom was received with a
tremendous repetition of shouts and cries in the doctor’s honor.
The latter, who had seen enough of it by this time, by a rapid motion
put aside his too demonstrative admirers and went out of the palace,
directing his steps immediately toward the balloon, for it was now six
o’clock in the evening.
Joe, during his absence, had been quietly waiting at the foot of the
ladder, where the crowd paid him their most humble respects. Like a
genuine son of the moon, he let them keep on. For a divinity, he had
the air of a very clever sort of fellow, by no means proud, nay, even
pleasingly familiar with the young negresses, who seemed never to tire
of looking at him. Besides, he went so far as to chat agreeably with
them.
“Worship me, ladies! worship me!” he said to them. “I’m a clever sort
of devil, if I am the son of a goddess.”
They brought him propitiatory gifts, such as are usually deposited in
the _fetich_ huts or _mzimu_. These gifts consisted of stalks of barley
and of “pombe.” Joe considered himself in duty bound to taste the
latter species of strong beer, but his palate, although accustomed to
gin and whiskey, could not withstand the strength of the new beverage,
and he had to make a horrible grimace, which his dusky friends took to
be a benevolent smile.
Thereupon, the young damsels, conjoining their voices in a drawling
chant, began to dance around him with the utmost gravity.
“Ah! you’re dancing, are you?” said he. “Well, I won’t be behind you in
politeness, and so I’ll give you one of my country reels.”
So at it he went, in one of the wildest jigs that ever was seen,
twisting, turning, and jerking himself in all directions; dancing with
his hands, dancing with his body, dancing with his knees, dancing with
his feet; describing the most fearful contortions and extravagant
evolutions; throwing himself into incredible attitudes; grimacing
beyond all belief, and, in fine giving his savage admirers a strange
idea of the style of ballet adopted by the deities in the moon.
Then, the whole collection of blacks, naturally as imitative as
monkeys, at once reproduced all his airs and graces, his leaps and
shakes and contortions; they did not lose a single gesticulation; they
did not forget an attitude; and the result was, such a pandemonium of
movement, noise, and excitement, as it would be out of the question
even feebly to describe. But, in the very midst of the fun, Joe saw the
doctor approaching.
The latter was coming at full speed, surrounded by a yelling and
disorderly throng. The chiefs and sorcerers seemed to be highly
excited. They were close upon the doctor’s heels, crowding and
threatening him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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