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Updated: June 9, 2025
Barrels holding alcohol of inferior quality, but well refined, were emptied into the basin. They spared neither the cinnamon, nor the allspice, nor any of the ingredients that might improve this punch for savages. All had made a circle around the king. Moini Loungga advanced staggering to the basin.
"Well, some 'pombe'! some mead!" exclaimed Jose-Antonio Alvez, like a man who well knew what Moini Loungga wanted. "No, no!" replied the king; "my friend Alvez's brandy, and for each drop of his fire-water I shall give him " "A drop of blood from a white man!" exclaimed Negoro, after making a sign to Alvez, which the latter understood and approved. "A white man!
But this time, as there was nothing left of the royal person except a few burnt bones, it was necessary to proceed in another manner. A willow manikin was made, representing Moini Loungga sufficiently well, perhaps advantageously, and in it they shut up the remains the combustion had spared.
The evening had come, an evening without twilight, that was going to make day change tonight almost at once, a propitious hour for the blazing of the brandy. It was truly a triumphant idea of Alvez's, to offer a punch to this negro majesty, and to make him love brandy under a new form. Moini Loungga began to find that fire-water did not sufficiently justify its name.
A numerous train of women, officers, soldiers and slaves followed him. Alvez and some other traders went to meet him, and naturally exaggerated the attention which this crowned brute particularly enjoyed. Moini Loungga was carried in an old palanquin, and descended, not without the aid of a dozen arms, in the center of the large square. This king was fifty years old, but he looked eighty.
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