the cutting-out gang with their axes, etc., and my yesterday’s companion
as guide to the slain. In the evening they returned with some magnificent
ivory, but having found only nine carcases. Having the tails of ten, I
thought they had failed to find the tenth, and I turned in, meaning to
show them it on the morrow. I remembered now on looking at the ivory that
the missing animal had exceptionally long tusks. I had measured them with
my forearm, and three and a half lengths had they protruded from the lip.
Resolved to find him, we searched the whole area of that swamp, but
nowhere could he be found. At last I came to the spot from which I had
fired, as I supposed, the fatal shot. After a little search I found the
empty ·275 case. There a few yards away should have been the elephant.
Here was where he lay on his side; grass flattened, mark of under tusk
in mud, all complete. But no elephant could be found. It was a case of
stun and nothing else. And there on those plains there probably wanders
to this day an elephant distinguished from other tailless elephants by
having had his tail painlessly amputated by human hand and Sheffield
cutlery while under the influence of a unique anæsthetic. Meanwhile I had
lost two grand tusks. One of the other bulls had a single tooth only,
but almost made up for this fraudulent shortage by weighing in 134 lb.
for his single tooth. The weight for the nine bulls was 1,463 lb., all
first-rate stuff, and the value then in London somewhere about £877.
After some fairly successful hunting in the neighbourhood it was time to
move on to the wonderful mountain. Its wonder had somewhat eased off by
our close contact. Indeed, it now appeared as just an ordinary-looking
African hill, extremely sterile and forbidding-looking. Although from
a distance it had appeared as an isolated peak, on closer acquaintance
there were seen to be not a few foot-hills of insignificant height. It
was on the spur of one of these that we met with Abyssinians. As we
headed across the plains men were seen scuttling up the rocks, and my
glasses showed mules tethered some way up. We were therefore about to
encounter our first Abyssinians. Everyone was in a twitter. Habashi have
a truly awful reputation for nameless atrocities in those parts, and
had it lain with them my safari would have chosen instant flight rather
than come within rifle-shot of those mounted terrors. For my part, I
felt tolerably all right, as the glasses showed no sign of the enemy
being in any force. And then I thought that if I were in their place and
saw a safari of our size marching resolutely towards me I should feel
pretty anxious. This thought comforted me to such an extent that I did
a foolish thing. I was at that time trying to get a really good pair
of oryx horns, and when almost under the noses of the Abyssinians lying
in the rocks up got a good oryx and I let drive. Too late, the thought
that the enemy might think I was firing at them flashed through my mind.
I rushed up to the fallen buck and seemed busy with it. As a matter of
fact, we subsequently found that the great, fierce, bold Abyssinians
were in a much greater funk than we were. We shouted in Arabic that
we were friends, and invited them to come down. We tried everything
without success, and at last camped peacefully beneath them. As evening
was drawing on and they had not yet come I strolled up to the mules
without arms in case they might be scared. Then I sat down and smoked,
hoping they would join me. But no, all I could see of them was their
heads among the rocks. I went slowly towards them, and when I was quite
close I found the poor devils were literally shivering. Good Heavens! I
thought, what devilment have you been up to, to be in such a state? It
was only by sitting down with them in their funk holes and chewing coffee
berries which they offered that they could be persuaded to come forth.
But at last they came to camp and settled down. It was impossible to talk
with them. They knew no Arabic, and we knew no Abyssinian. However, we
made out that they were ten days’ ride from their base and were out for
elephant. Slaves, in other words, I suspect. They made me a present of a
goodish young mule with saddle and bridle complete and a French Daudeter
rifle, while I gave them in return a fine tusk. We parted, mutually
relieved to see the last of each other.
[Illustration: FROM THE LOOK-OUT HILL.
“_The next morning I climbed the little hill in pouring rain. From its
top I had a good view of the Murua to the south, while to the north a
river was visible flowing northwards. On its banks were large verdant
green flats which might have been as smooth as tennis lawns but for the
fact that they were thickly speckled with black dots which the glasses
and then the telescope showed to be the backs and heads of scores of bull
elephants._”]
[Illustration: THE “ELEPHANT CEMETERY.”]
At the end of a short march across lava-dust plains we reached the
wonderful mountain Murua Akipi. Skirting the base of it, we found a fine,
well-worn elephant road, which we followed for some miles, until a branch
led us up a gully to a little level plain surrounded by rocky lava-strewn
hill-slopes of a most forbidding description. For a few yards in the
centre of the plain there was some very short and verdant green grass
dotted here and there by the white bleached skulls of elephant while
half-buried leg bones showed their huge round knuckle ends. In the centre
of this green oasis were three pools of intensely clear green water. All
round the edges of the grass there were glistening lines of white powder,
evidently high-water marks. I tasted the water; it was certainly very
bitter.
Here was what native information called an elephant cemetery, and at
first sight I thought it was. But on looking round and thinking it over
a bit I was first struck by the fact that there were no recent bones
or skulls. Again, all the skulls seemed to have undergone about the
same amount of weathering. I talked it over with Pyjalé, and he told
me that he had heard from the old men who had had it from others that
once there came a dreadful drought upon the land; that so scarce had
water become that springs of the nature in question were the only ones
left running, and that they then became so strong that animals and men
drinking of their waters immediately died. Even now as we drank it in a
normal season the water was very bitter, although it appeared to have no
after-effect beyond acting as a slight aperient. Natron is, I believe,
the impregnation. So much for the elephant cemeteries.
Still skirting the base of Murua Akipi on well-worn elephant paths, we
next day sighted zebra high up on the mountain side. Halting the safari I
went to investigate and found a pool of fresh water, sufficiently large
for several days. Here we camped, and from this spot I did the mountain.
From its top away to the north-east could be seen a distant line of hills
which I took to be Abyssinia. To the N.W. I could trace the course of the
river which had afforded such good results in elephant. It meandered away
through huge open plains until lost in the distance. I imagine it must
flow into the Akobo or Pibor. At the time of which I write the maps were
a blank as regards this region.
With my eyes well skinned for gold I washed the gravel in the pot-holes
of the stream beds but without result. Soon tiring of this prospecting I
began to search the surrounding country for game. With clear atmosphere
and good glasses all kinds of game were seen. The dry lava-dust plains
were covered with herds of oryx, ostrich, giraffe and gazelle. In the
thorn belts elephant were seen. To find game I used prismatic binoculars,
and to examine the animals more closely I had a large telescope on a
tripod. With this I could almost weigh the tusks of elephant seven or
eight miles distant. It was most fascinating to watch the animals through
this glass. Sometimes rhino would be seen love-making. The inclination
was to spend too much time at the eye-piece. But what dances that glass
led me. I would watch two or three heavy old bull elephant feeding slowly
about. It looked absurdly easy to go down to the plain and walk straight
to them. But this I knew was not so, and I would try to memorise the
country which lay between me and the animals. But however I tried it was
always most difficult to find them once the flat was reached. Everything
altered and looked different.
My hunting round Murua Akipi was so successful that I found my safari
already too heavily laden to attempt the following of the north-flowing
river. Only in these two particulars—the presence of large elephant and
Abyssinians—had the wondermongers been right about Murua Akipi. Gold was
not found. The deadly waters were merely natron springs. The elephant
cemeteries had been cemeteries during one exceptionally dry season only,
or so it seemed.
For a hunter well equipped with food stuffs a hunt of three months’
duration in the country surrounding Murua Akipi would have shown
astonishing results. As it was we carried with us flour traded on Mt.
Elgon, some 600 miles south of us. Of course everyone was on half
rations, that is every boy received a condensed milk tin half filled with
banana flour for the one day with the addition of as much elephant meat
and fat or buck meat as he cared to take. In addition to this everyone
got salt. The condition of all was magnificent. My food was arranged for
in the following manner. There were four milk cows constantly in milk.
As they went dry they were exchanged for others from the native herds.
Two of these cows, with their calves, accompanied me wherever I went;
while two rested at the base camp in Dodose. Hence I always had milk, the
staple of all the native tribes. In time I came to drink it as they did,
that is sour. Mixed with raw blood as they took it, I could never master,
although it then becomes a perfect food I am convinced. Fresh milk as we
drink it at home is regarded by all pastoral tribes in the light of a
slow but sure poison. They all declare that the drinking of milk in its
fresh state leads to anæmia and loss of power. Under no conditions will
they drink it fresh, but will always stand it in a calabash where it soon
sours.
My two cows were milked night and morning. The evening milking was put
to stand in a calabash and was sour by morning. The calabash was carried
by a boy and I drank it about 9 a.m. after marching from about 6 a.m.
This I found did me well throughout the day without anything else, and
no matter how hard the travelling. It seemed a perfect food. One did not
get thirsty as after a meat meal, neither did one become soon hungry as
after a farinaceous meal. Meanwhile that morning’s milk was carried in a
calabash all day and was “ripe” for the evening’s meal. Then round the
camp fire I would frizzle dry buck-meat in the embers.
A boy’s feeding arrangements were as follows: He would wake up about 2
a.m., having slept since about 8 p.m. On his camp fire he would warm up a
chunk of smoked elephant or buck meat. This he would not touch until the
first halt in the day’s march, generally about 9 a.m. He would then have
this first meal, consisting entirely of smoked beef. After that he would
perform his hard day’s work. In the evening at sundown his flour, if on
half rations, would be made into thin gruel with fat added and a pinch
of wild tamarind to “mustard” it. When on full rations thick porridge
stiffened _off_ the fire with raw flour would be made, after that more
smoked meat. Here again absolutely fresh meat was never eaten, always the
smoked or dried meat.
As regards the thirst-resisting qualities of the grain and meat diet
as opposed to the milk and meat diet there was no comparison. Pyjalé,
who shared my milk, once went three days without either food or drink,
whereas a grain-eating boy who became lost was rescued just in time after
only thirty-six hours without water.
[Illustration: THE CAMP CHRONICLER.]
[Illustration: ABYSSINIAN SLAVERS.]
After consulting the donkey-headman it was decided that we had almost as
much ivory as we could carry. Many of the tusks were too long for donkeys
and should have been taken by porters. It was decided to return to our
base through untouched country. The news was received with shouts of joy.
It is wonderful how one comes to regard the base camp as home. Whereas,
on our way up, the camps had been rather gloomy—disasters having been
prophesied for this expedition—now all was joy. The safari chronicler
became once more his joyous self and his impromptu verse became longer
and longer each night. The chronicler’s job is to render into readily
chanted metre all the important doings of the safari and its members. It
is a kind of diary and although not written down is almost as permanent,
when committed to the tenacious memories of natives. Each night, in the
hour between supper and bedtime, the chronicler gets up and blows a
vibrating blast on his waterbuck horn. This is the signal for silence.
All is still. Then begins the chant of the safari’s doings, verse by
verse, with chorus between. It is extraordinarily interesting but very
difficult to understand. The arts of allusion and suggestion are used
most cleverly. In fact, the whole thing is wonderful. Verse by verse the
history rolls out on the night, no one forgetting a single word. When
the well-known part is finished, bringing the narrative complete up to
and including yesterday, there is a pause of expectation—the new verse
is about to be launched. Out it comes without hesitation or fault, all
to-day’s events compressed into four lines of clever metric _précis_. If
humorous its completion is greeted with a terrific outburst of laughter
and then it is sung by the whole lot in chorus, followed by a flare-up
of indescribable noises; drums, pipes, horns and human voices. And then
to bed, while those keen-eyed camp askaris mount guard; although they
cannot hit a mountain by daylight they fire _and kill_ by night with a
regularity that always leaves me dumb with astonishment. Remember they
are using ·450 bore bullets in ·577 bore barrels, and explain it who can.
They call it “medicine.”
We traversed some queer country on our return to Dodose. All kinds were
met with. We went thirty days on end without seeing an elephant, and in
the succeeding four days I killed forty-four bulls. A lioness came within
a foot of catching a boy and was shot. The dried skins of elephant were
found occupying much the same position as when filled with flesh. Now
they contained nothing but the loose bones, all the meat having been
eaten away by maggots and ants, which had entered through nature’s ports.
Why the skin had not rotted as in other parts I could but ascribe to the
dryness of the atmosphere. Finally, we staggered home, heavily laden with
ivory, to our base camp.
That safari was one of my most successful. We “shuka’d,” or went down
country, with over 14,000 lbs. of ivory—all excellent stuff.
VII
THROUGH THE SUDD OF THE GELO RIVER
At the time of which I write, about 1908, the wild countries lying around
the western and south-western base of the Abyssinian plateau seemed to us
to present the most favourable field of operations. And as the boundaries
had not yet been delimited between Abyssinia and the Sudan on the one
hand and Abyssinia and Uganda on the other, we felt that there would be
more scope for our activities in that region than elsewhere. The object
was elephant hunting.
In order to reach this country we were obliged to cross Abyssinia. We
took steamer to Djibuti on the Red Sea, ascending thence by railway to
the then railhead, Dirré Doua, and then by horse, camel and mule to
Addis Abeba, the capital. Here, the only trouble we had was from our own
legation. Our representative regarded every English traveller in the
light of being a potential source of trouble to him personally, and was
at little pains to conceal his thoughts. Luckily, we had been recommended
financially to the bank, and this fact smoothed our path. Apparently,
in these matters the main question is whether one is the possessor of a
few hundred pounds or not. If so, zeal in helping the traveller on is
forthcoming; but if not, every obstacle is put in the way of his ever
making any progress. In one of our colonies I was once asked bluntly by
the Government representative if I had any money. Of course, the poor
man was merely trying to do his duty; but before I could think of this
I had replied, “Precious little.” Throughout my stay in his province he
regarded me with the gravest suspicion.
Along the route from Addis Abeba to Goré in the west we were much
pestered for presents by the Abyssinian military governors. We had
been warned about this and were supplied with some automatic pistols.
They invariably turned these down and tried to get our rifles, but as
invariably accepted the pistols. These gentry have to be reckoned with,
as it is within their power to hold up the traveller by simply declaring
the road to be dangerous.
At Goré we came under the rule of the famous chief Ras Tasama. He
reigned over the whole of the western part of Abyssinia, tolerating no
interference from the Emperor, but paying to him a considerable tribute.
This tribute was mainly composed of slaves, gold dust and ivory. The dust
was gathered annually from the river beds, after the rains, and by the
subject races. We were informed that Goré’s quota amounted to 4,000 oz.
Ivory was obtained from the negro tribes living in the lowlands below the
Abyssinian plateau. One chief with whom we came in contact was required
to provide 300 tusks annually, and apparently could do so easily. It
will give an idea of the immense numbers of elephant in the country
when I mention that this chief had under him quite a modest little
tribe, occupying a country which could be traversed in four days of easy
marching.
Slaves were raided from tribes which could not or would not provide
ivory. We gathered that these raids were extremely brutal affairs, for
which the Abyssinian habits of eating raw meat and drinking rawer alcohol
seemed peculiarly to fit them, and that just before our arrival at Goré
a raid had resulted in the capture of 10,000 men, women and children.
This figure is probably an exaggeration, but it was evident from the
accounts of witnesses whom we questioned that the numbers must have been
very considerable. They said that the mules, with children lashed on
them like faggots, required half the day to pass through the town. The
only sign of slaving that we ourselves saw was when we met a body of
mounted Abyssinians guarding some wild-looking natives from some distant
land. Even if their patient phlegm and air of despair had not drawn our
attention to them, the fact that they were completely nude, very black,
and wore ornaments such as necklaces made up of countless little round
discs of ostrich eggshell, otherwise unseen in Abyssinia, would have done
so. We were spared the sight of children.
From information gathered, it now became necessary to obtain
permission from Ras Tasama to proceed off the beaten track for the
purpose of hunting elephant. So far we had followed the well beaten
Addis-Gambela-Khartoum track. We stated our wishes at the first interview
with the Ras. He was an imposing-looking old man, short of stature, but
with the expression of power, authority and dignity so often found in
outstanding Africans. Accompanied by our one-eared interpreter, who had
lost the other as a punishment for having sided with the Italians in the
war, we were received in the hall of his house, a two-storeyed building
of oval shape and a fine specimen of Abyssinian architecture. The
usual compliments passed between us and the customary present was duly
presented by us. It took the form, on this occasion, of a case of liqueur
brandy and a little banker’s bag containing fifty golden sovereigns. As
is usual in Africa, the gifts were received without demonstration. We
then proceeded to state our business, through our interpreter. We were
elephant hunters and wished to have the Ras’s permission to hunt and his
advice on where to go. Drinks were served. Our choice was old _tedg_
(honey-mead), the national drink. It was clear and sparkling, very good
and rather like champagne. The Ras told us it was nine years old. He
himself preferred _araki_, which is almost pure alcohol flavoured with
aniseed. He then remarked that he knew of a country where there were many
elephant. This remark we thought distinctly promising, but he made no
further reference to the subject of so much importance to us. The visit
ended.
On our return to camp we asked our interpreter what we should do now.
He said we would get what we wanted, but that we should give the Ras
another present. We looked about and finally decided to give him one of
our sporting rifles. Next day, after arranging to call on him, we duly
presented this beautiful weapon together with a lot of cartridges. More
hope was doled out to us, without anything definite happening. And so
on it went for three weeks. By that time the Ras had become possessed
of eight mules, fifteen camels (he asked for these), several firearms
and sundry cases of liquor, besides the presents first mentioned. We
were then at the end of our resources and in desperation. This the Ras
probably knew as well as we did, for at long last the desired permission
was given. But only verbally and without witnesses. Once he had given his
word, however, the thing was thoroughly well done. A guide was provided
to take us to the hunting grounds. This man not only guided us, but
as long as we remained in country owing allegiance to the Ras we were
provided with everything the country afforded.
After descending the steep edge of the Abyssinian Plateau we arrived at
the rolling plains, several thousands of feet lower and very much hotter
than Goré. Mosquitoes were to be reckoned with once more. The natives
were now very black, naked, Nilotic and pagan, but paid tribute to Ras
Tasama in ivory.
The guide furnished us by Ras Tasama took us to the chief of these
people. He was a great swell and wore an Abyssinian robe. While at his
village he fêted us and our Abyssinians, and in the night came secretly
to ask if we wished to buy ivory. We replied guardedly that much depended
on the price asked. He then sent for a tusk and we were overjoyed to see
that the ivory of the country was large and soft. We asked if that was
all he had. He said he had more. Could we see it? Yes, and he led us to
a stockade where he had a considerable amount of tusks hidden in a hole
and covered with mats. One was very large—about 150 lb., I would say.
We then asked him what he wanted for his ivory. “Guineea,” he said. It
took us some time before it dawned on us. He wanted guineas, as English
or Egyptian sovereigns are called. We were astonished, and wondered
how he was acquainted with them. It appeared that at Gambela there was
a Greek trader who apparently bought ivory and it was there that our
friend had dealt in sovereigns. But of their true value he was ignorant,
evidently confusing them with some smaller coin as he asked for an
impossible number for a tusk. We knew that this chief was in high favour
with Ras Tasama and that he paid tribute of 300 tusks annually. This
fact, combined with the sight before our eyes, seemed to denote enormous
numbers of elephant somewhere, and yet we had seen no tracks so far. We
asked where all this ivory came from. The chief smiled in a superior way,
telling us to wait and he would show us so many elephant that we would be
afraid to look upon them, let alone hunt them.
He was right about their numbers, for a few days after leaving his
village we came upon the trail of a roaming herd. The well-beaten part of
this trail was literally several hundreds of yards wide. I am afraid to
estimate how many animals must have been in that herd.
Although it was several days old I wanted to follow it. I took it to be a
migration of sorts. But the natives said no, there was no need to. There
were plenty more. And, sure enough, they were right. We arrived at a
small village on the banks of the Gelo.
Looking up our map we found that the Gelo River from Lake Tata
down-stream was marked as unknown. Accordingly, we made enquiries among
the natives about the country down-stream, and were told that there were
no natives for many days, that the whole country was under water at this
season and that no one would go.
This was good enough for us. We opened negotiations with the chiefs for
some dug-out canoes, which we obtained for various sundries. They were
poor carriers and very crank, so I lashed them together in rafts of three.
It was now necessary to deal with our followers. All the Abyssinians
would have to return as they were daily becoming more fever-stricken.
With them would go the mules. The guide rightly considered he had done
his job. There remained four of my old Swahili followers from British
East Africa, who had been shipped, through Thos. Cook and Son, from
Mombassa to Djibuti, and four Yemen Arabs we had picked up on our way
through. The Swahilis were old hands, had been everywhere with me for
about ten years, and cared not a rap where we went. The Arabs were new,
but splendid fellows. They hated the thought of recrossing Abyssinia by
themselves and were, therefore, obliged to go on with us.