VI.

In getting up our Caravan We met a most obliging man, The Lord Chief Justice of Liberia, And Minister of the Interior; Cain Abolition Beecher Boz, Worked like a Nigger—which he was— And in a single day Procured us Porters, Guides, and kit, And would not take a sou for it Until we went away.[4]

We wondered how this fellow made Himself so readily obeyed, And why the natives were so meek; Until by chance we heard him speak, And then we clearly understood How great a Power for Social Good The African can be. He said with a determined air: “You are not what your fathers were; Liberians, you are Free! Of course, if you refuse to go—” And here he made a gesture so.

He also gave us good advice Concerning Labour and its Price. “In dealing wid de Native Scum, Yo’ cannot pick an’ choose; Yo’ hab to promise um a sum Ob wages, paid in Cloth and Rum. But, Lordy! that’s a ruse! Yo’ get yo’ well on de Adventure, And change de wages to Indenture.” We did the thing that he projected, The Caravan grew disaffected, And Sin and I consulted; Blood understood the Native mind. He said: “We must be firm but kind.” A Mutiny resulted. I never shall forget the way That Blood upon this awful day Preserved us all from death. He stood upon a little mound, Cast his lethargic eyes around, And said beneath his breath: “Whatever happens we have got The Maxim Gun, and they have not.”

He marked them in their rude advance, He hushed their rebel cheers; With one extremely vulgar glance He broke the Mutineers. (I have a picture in my book Of how he quelled them with a look.) We shot and hanged a few, and then The rest became devoted men. And here I wish to say a word Upon the way my heart was stirred By those pathetic faces. Surely our simple duty here Is both imperative and clear; While they support us, we should lend Our every effort to defend, And from a higher point of view To give the full direction due To all the native races. And I, throughout the expedition, Insisted upon this position.