There was a long time when no one spoke. Then the king entered and went to the upper end of the house, where a sort of throne was set for him. Unlike his nobles he was dressed in extreme simplicity, in a short loin-cloth of the purest white, and another band of white cloth about his head. The blackness of his skin and the whiteness of these stark garments gave him an overwhelming kingly radiance, a brilliance, that far outshined the gaudiness of the others.
He was a strong-built man, going somewhat to fat. When he took his seat all the others clapped their hands and saluted him, crying, “Nzambi! Ampungu!” Which I learned afterward means, “O Most High God.” For this king of Loango is thought by his people to be God Himself, and I suppose if he were to meet the Pope, he would expect the Pope to kneel to him, the Maloango being of a higher rank.
The king accepted this homage pleasantly until he had had enough. Then he looked toward us and uttered a greeting, or so we thought, that went, “Byani ampembe mpolo, muneya ke zinga!”
“He is bidding us welcome,” murmured Oliveira, who replied loudly in Portuguese, “In the name of His Most Catholic Majesty Philip the Second of Portugal and Spain, we thank thee, O King of Loango, and may the blessing of God and His Son descend upon thee and all thy kingdom.” Or words to that effect, said most resonantly, which he then repeated in the native tongue.
It was not for many years that I came to understand the real import of the Maloango’s greeting, when I did hear it again, with time having given me a fluency in his language. For the words Byani ampembe mpolo, muneya ke zinga have actually the meaning there, “My companion, the white face, has risen from underground and will not live long.” A strange greeting indeed! But not at all meant as a threat, though Oliveira, had he comprehended its sense, might well have construed it so. Its meaning rises from the belief of the blackamoors that the white man is a ghost that ascends from the bottom of the ocean with his ship, and so long as he keeps to shipboard he will live forever, but once he comes ashore, he is doomed to an early death. This, I suppose, because so many Portugals have succumbed to fevers and fluxes in this land. And that perhaps explains why they give us such deference, since we have the holiness of imminent decease overshadowing us like dark gleamings.
These formalities and others like them ran on for some hours. Oliveira interpreted for us, but I think not very well, for he frowned and strained to hear, and muttered to himself as if not understanding, and when he translated for us, I think he was inventing the half of what he told us, for it made precious little sense to me. I listened with care, of course knowing nothing of what I was hearing, but I did succeed in learning some five or six words simply from having them repeated in certain contexts that left me no doubt. It seemed not a difficult language, once your ear be attuned to it, and privately I considered that I might win more safety and privilege among the Portugals if I came to know the native tongues better than they did, they apparently having little aptitude for such things.
After long and wearying parley, coming to no purpose that I could discern, the king did call for drink. There was on either side of him an official to serve this purpose; the one on the right it was who handed him the cup, and the other on the left gave warning to the assemblage, by means of two iron rods about the bigness of a finger, and pointed at the end, which he did strike one against the other. Straightaway the whole gathering dived for the ground, as Faleiro had said they would do, and hid their faces in the sand so long as the irons continued making their noise. It was an astounding spectacle to behold those grandees in their fine robes, every one groveling down on his nose while the monarch took his wine. We did not, but all of us spun around and looked another way, and I closed my eyes besides, lest some reflected bit of the king’s image glance into them while he drank and cost me my life.
When all of that was done, the nobles rose up again, and according to custom did signify that they wish him health, with clapping their hands, that being a sign of respect, as with us in Europe the putting off the hat. Wine now was distributed generally to the house, and a meal was served also, of fried fish with a sauce of honey, and a thick porridge made of the ground-nut, which is a pea, somewhat bigger than ours, the pods of which grow in the roots, underneath the ground. This last stuff was improved by the juice of a hot pepper, the pili-pili, that was like eating fire. It produced in the mouth an intense burning sensation and made the sweat stand out all over my skin. I thought I would perish of tasting it, and even the Portugals, who eat a lustier diet than we English do, were hard put to swallow much of the stuff. But I did eat my fill and gradually accustomed myself to it, and in time, over the months and years ahead, I would come so much to dote on the pili-pili that food without it came to seem devoid of taste, as it still does for me.
There was some obstacle toward our buying the elephanto teeth we had come here to purchase. I know not what it was, for the Portugals would not confide with me on so delicate a matter, and I was not privy to the urgent conferences between Faleiro and the officials of the Maloango’s court. Perhaps it was a religious problem—the season not being right for commerce—or perchance the Loangans were seeking to increase the price of their goods; but I was not told, and I did not ask. These matters did, however, create a delay of many weeks in our leaving Loango.
We lived in small rude houses built especially for us, and were fed on the native foods. We talked often of going hunting for game, but we did not do it, on account of the great heat, which I think made us all lazy. Likewise we did not touch women. Faleiro told me that women were available to us—not citizens of the city, who were jealous of their virtue just as Christian women would be, but slaves, who were abundant here. But I had no hunger for them, and I think none of my companions either, except possibly one or two of the lustiest, and those not often.
Mostly did we spend our days resting, playing games with dice or knives, and drinking the heavy sweet palm-wine, and talking of our homelands. These Portugals were generally coarse folk, and I never once heard them speak of anything but gaming or wenching or drinking or fighting or gathering treasure. Not a word came from them concerning poetry or plays, that any Englishman who was more than a common churl would have been brim-full with discussing. One day when I told them of the richness and joy of our theater, and of Master Marlowe’s play of Tamburlaine that I had seen, and the wonderful play of Hieronimo and the Spanish prince that was done by Thomas Kyd, they looked upon me as if I were speaking in Greek, and paid me no heed. And one of them that was named Tristão Caldeira de Rodrigues, that seemed to have a special dislike for me, did scowl and hawk up a great wad of spittle almost at my feet and say in his idle lolling way, “These English sailors would have us think they are all poets and scholars, to shame us. But I think they do but feign their poetry, and give themselves high airs, for that the English have long been only a race of peasants and clod-grubbers, and are shamed by it now, and do lately pretend to a finer breeding.”