ADVENTURES IN GREAT VARIETY.
Stanley received a noiseless ovation in Unyanyembe as he walked with the
governor to his house. Soldiers and men by the hundreds, hovered round
their chief, staring at him, while the naked children peered between the
legs of the parents. Tea was served in a silver tea-pot and a sumptuous
breakfast was furnished, which Stanley devoured as only a hungry man
can, who has been shut up for so many months in the wilds of Africa.
Then pipes and tobacco were produced, and amid the whiffs of smoke came
out all the news that Stanley had brought from Zanzibar, while the
gratified sheikh smoked and listened. When Stanley took his leave to
look after his men his host accompanied him to show him the house he was
to occupy while he remained. It was commodious and quite luxurious after
his long life in a tent.
All the caravans had arrived, and he received the reports of the chief
of each, while the goods were unpacked and examined. One had had a fight
with the natives and beaten them, another had shot a thief, and the
fourth had lost a bale of goods. On the whole, Stanley was satisfied
and thankful there had been no more serious misfortunes. Food was
furnished with lavish prodigality, and while he was surfeiting himself,
he ordered a bullock to be slain for his men, now reduced to twenty-five
in number.
On the second day of his arrival, the chief Arabs of Tabna came to visit
him. This is the chief Arab settlement of Central Africa, and contains a
thousand huts and about five thousand inhabitants. The Arabs are a fine,
handsome set of men, and living amid rich pastures, they raise large
herds of cattle and goats, and vegetables of all kinds, while their
slaves bring back in caravans from Zanzibar the luxuries of the East,
not only coffee, spices, wines, salmon, etc., but Persian carpets, rich
bedding, and elegant table service. Some of them sport gold watches and
chains. Each one keeps as many concubines as he can afford, the size of
his harem being limited only by his means.
These magnates from Tabna after finishing their visit, invited Stanley
to visit their town and partake of a feast they had prepared for him.
Three days after, escorted by eighteen of his men, he returned the
visit. He arrived in time to attend a council of war which was being
held, as to the best manner of asserting their rights against a
robber-chief named Mirambo. He had carried war through several tribes
and claimed the right to waylay and rob Arab caravans. This must be
stopped, and it was resolved to make war against him in his stronghold.
Stanley agreed to accompany them, taking his caravan a part of the way
and leaving it until Mirambo was defeated, and the way to Ujiji cleared.
Returning to Unyanyembe, he found the caravan which had been made up to
carry supplies to Livingstone in November 1st, 1870. Having gone
twenty-five miles from Zanzibar, to Bagomayo, it had stayed there one
hundred days, when, hearing that the English consul was coming, it had
started off in affright just previous to Stanley's arrival. Whether
owing to his great change in diet or some other cause, Stanley was now
stricken down with fever and for a week tossed in delirium. Selim, his
faithful servant, took care of him. When he had recovered, the servant
also was seized with it.
[Illustration: A COUNCIL OF WAR.
The chiefs of the tribes in a certain vicinity meet to confer concerning
their wrongs and to plan for redress.]
But by the 29th of July all the sick had recovered, and the caravan was
loaded up for Ujiji. But Bombay was absent and they had to wait from
eight o'clock till two in the afternoon, he stubbornly refusing to leave
his mistress. When he arrived and was ordered to his place he made a
savage reply. The next moment Stanley's cane was falling like lightning
on his shoulders. The poor fellow soon cried for mercy. The order
"March" was then given, and the guide, with forty armed men behind him,
led off with flags streaming. At first, in dead silence, they moved on,
but soon struck up a monotonous sort of chorus, which seemed to consist
mostly of "Hoy, hoy," and was kept up all day. The second day he arrived
at Masangi, where he was told the Arabs were waiting for him at Mfuto,
six hours' march distant. The next morning, he arrived at the place
where the Arab army was gathered, numbering in all two thousand two
hundred and twenty-five men, of whom fifteen hundred were armed with
guns. With banners flying and drums beating, they, on the 3d of August,
marched forth, but in a few hours Stanley was again stricken down with
fever.
The next day the march was resumed, and at eleven o'clock Zimbize, the
stronghold of the enemy, came in view. The forces quickly surrounded it.
A general assault followed and the village was captured, the inhabitants
fleeing toward the mountains, pursued closely by the yelling Arabs. Only
twenty dead bodies were found within. The next day, two more villages
were burned and the day after, a detachment five hundred strong scoured
the country around, carrying devastation and ruin in their path. At this
critical period of the campaign, Stanley was still down with fever, and
while he lay in his hammock, news came that the detachment of five
hundred men had been surprised and killed. Mirambo had turned and
ambushed them, and now the boasting of the morning was turning into
despondency. The women made the night hideous with shrieks and
lamentations over their slain husbands. The next day there was a regular
stampede of the Arabs, and when Stanley was able to get out of his tent
only seven men were left to him; all the rest had returned to Mfuto, and
soon after to Tabna twenty-five miles distant.
It was plain that it was useless to open the direct road to Ujiji, which
lay through Mirambo's district. In fact, it seemed impossible to get
there at all, and the only course left was to return to the coast and
abandon the project of reaching Livingstone altogether. But what would
Livingstone do locked up at Ujiji? He might perhaps go north and meet
Baker, who was moving with a strong force southward. But he was told by
a man that Livingstone was coming to Nyano Lake toward the Tanganika, on
which Ujiji is situated, at the very time it was last reported he was
murdered. He was then walking, dressed in American sheeting, having lost
all his cloth in Lake Leemba. He had a breech-loading double-barreled
rifle with him and two revolvers. Stanley felt that he could not give up
trying to reach him now, when it was so probable that he was within four
hundred miles of him.
On the 13th, a caravan came in from the east and reported Farquhar dead
at the place where he had been left. Ten days after, Mirambo attacked
Tabna and set it on fire. Stanley, at this time, was encamped at
Kwihara, in sight of the burning town. The refugees came pouring in, and
Stanley, finding the men willing to stand by him, began to prepare for
defense, and counting up his little force found he had one hundred and
fifty men. He was not attacked, however, and five days after, Mirambo
retreated. The Arabs held councils of war and urged Stanley to become
their ally, but he refused, and finally took the bold resolution of
organizing a flying caravan, and by a southern route and quick marching,
reach Ujiji. This was August 27th, and the third month he had been in
Unyanyembe. Having got together some forty men in all, he gave a great
banquet to them prior to their departure, which an attack of fever
caused him to postpone. On the 20th of September, though too weak to
travel, he mustered his entire force outside the town and found, that by
additional men which the Arabs had succeeded in securing, it now
numbered fifty-four men. When all was ready Bombay was again missing,
and when found and brought up, excused himself, as of old, by saying he
was bidding his "misses" good-bye. As he seemed inclined to pick a
quarrel with Stanley, the latter not being in the most amiable mood and
wishing to teach the others a lesson, gave him a sound thrashing.
Soon, everything being ready, the word "march" passed down the line and
Stanley started on his last desperate attempt to push on to Ujiji, not
much farther than from Albany to Buffalo as the crow flies, but by the
way he would be compelled to go, no one knew how far, nor what time it
would take to reach it. But Stanley had good reason to believe that
Livingstone was alive, and from the reports he could get of his
movements that he must be at or near Ujiji, and therefore to Ujiji he
was determined to go, unless death stopped his progress. He had been set
on a mission, and although the conditions were not that he should
surmount impossibilities, still he would come as near to that as human
effort could. Though sick with fever, and with that prostration and
utter loss of will accompanying it, he nevertheless with that marvelous
energy that is never exhibited except in rare exceptional characters,
kept his great object in view. That never lost its hold on him under the
most disastrous circumstances, neither in the delirium of fever nor in
the utter prostration that followed it. This tenacity of purpose and
indomitable will ruling and governing him, where in all other men it
would have had no power, exhibit the extraordinary qualities of this
extraordinary man. We do not believe that he himself was fully aware of
this inherent power, this fixedness of purpose that makes him different
from all other men. No man possessing it is conscious of it any more
than an utterly fearless man is conscious of his own courage. The
following touching extract from his journal at this time lets in a
flood of light on the character and the inner life of this remarkable
man:
"About 10 P. M. the fever had gone. All were asleep in the tembe but
myself, and an unutterable loneliness came on me as I reflected on my
position, and my intentions, and felt the utter lack of sympathy with me
in all around. Even my own white assistant, with whom I had striven
hard, was less sympathizing than my little black boy Kalulu. It requires
more nerve than I possess to dispel all the dark presentiments that come
upon the mind. But, probably, what I call presentiments are simply the
impress on the mind of the warnings which these false-hearted Arabs have
repeated so often. This melancholy and loneliness which I feel, may
probably have their origin from the same cause. The single candle which
barely lights up the dark shade which fills the corners of my room, is
but a poor incentive to cheerfulness. I feel as though I were imprisoned
between stone walls. But why should I feel as if baited by these stupid,
slow-witted Arabs, and their warnings and croakings? I fancy a suspicion
haunts my mind, as I write, that there lies some motive behind all this.
"I wonder if these Arabs tell me all these things to keep me here, in
the hope that I may be induced another time to assist them in their war
against Mirambo! If they think so, they are much mistaken, for I have
taken a solemn, enduring oath--an oath to be kept while the least hope
of life remains in me--not to be tempted to break the resolution I have
formed, never to give up the search until I find Livingstone alive, or
find his dead body; and never to return home without the strongest
possible proofs that he is alive or that he is dead. No living man or
living men shall stop me--only death can prevent me. But death--not even
this; I shall not die--I will not die--I cannot die!
"And something tells me, I do not know what it is--perhaps it is the
everliving hopefulness of my own nature; perhaps it is the natural
presumption born out of an abundant and glowing vitality, or the outcome
of an overweening confidence in one's self--anyhow and everyhow,
something tells me to-night I shall find him, and--write it larger--FIND
HIM! FIND HIM! Even the words are inspiring. I feel more happy. Have I
uttered a prayer? I shall sleep calmly to-night."
There is nothing in this whole terrible journey so touching, and
revealing so much, as this extract from his journal does. It shows that
he is human, and yet far above common human weakness. Beset with
difficulties, his only white companion dead or about to be left behind,
the Arabs themselves and the natives telling him he cannot go on, left
all alone in a hostile country, his men deserting him, he pauses and
ponders. To make all these outer conditions darker, he is smitten down
with fever that saps the energies, unnerves the heart and fills the
imagination with gloomy forebodings, and makes the soul sigh for rest.
It is the lowest pit of despondency into which a man may be cast. He
feels it, and all alone, fever-worn and sad, he surveys the prospect
before him. There is not a single soul on which to lean--not a
sympathizing heart to turn to while fever is burning up his brain, and
night, moonless and starless, is settling down around him. He would be
less than human not to feel the desolation of his position, and for a
moment to sink under this accumulation of disastrous circumstances. He
does feel how utterly hopeless and sad is his condition; and all through
the first part of this entry in his journal, there is something that
sounds like a mournful refrain; yet at its close, out of his gloomy
surroundings, up from his feverish bed speaks the brave heart in trumpet
tones, showing the indomitable will that nothing can break, crying out
of the all-enveloping gloom, "_no living man or living men shall stop
me_--only death can prevent me." There spoke one of the few great
natures God has made. The closing words of that entry in his journal
ring like a bugle-note from his sick-bed, and foretell his triumph.
But, at last, they were off. Shaw, the last white man left to Stanley,
had been sick and apparently indifferent whether he lived or died; but
all after a short march became enlivened, and things looked more
promising. But Stanley was soon again taken sick with the fever and the
men began to be discouraged. Staggering from his sick-bed he found that
twenty of his men had deserted. Aroused at this new danger he instantly
dispatched twenty men after them, while he sent his faithful follower,
Selim, to an Arab chief to borrow a long slave-chain. At night, the
messengers returned with nine of the missing men. Stanley then told them
that he had never used the slave-chain, but now he should on the first
deserters. He had resolved to go to Ujiji, where he believed Dr.
Livingstone was, and being so near the accomplishment of the mission he
was sent on, he was ready to resort to any measures rather than fail.
Deferring the use of the chain at present, he started forward and
encamped at Iresaka. In the morning, two more men were missing.
Irritated but determined, this resolute man halted, sent back for the
fugitives, caught them, and when brought back, flogged them severely and
chained them. Notwithstanding this severe treatment, the next morning
another man deserted, while to add to his perplexities and enhance the
difficulties that surrounded him, a man who had accompanied him all the
way from the coast asked to be discharged. Several others of the
expedition were now taken sick and became unable to proceed; and it
seemed, notwithstanding the resolute will of the leader, that the
expedition must break up. But fortunately, that evening men who had been
in caravans to the coast entered the village where they were encamped
with wondrous stories of what they had seen, which revived the spirits
of all, and the next morning they started off, and after three hours'
march through the forest came to Kigandu. Shaw, the last white man now
left to him, between real and feigned sickness had become such a burden,
that he determined to leave him behind, as the latter had often
requested.
That night, the poor wretch played on an old accordion "Home, Sweet
Home," which, miserable as it was, stirred the depths of Stanley's heart
for the man now about to be left alone amid Arabs and natives in the
most desperate crisis of the undertaking. But it could not be helped.
Speed was everything on this new route, or Mirambo would close it also.
So on the morning of the 27th he ordered the horn to sound "get ready,"
and Shaw being sent back to Kwihara, Stanley set off on his southern
unknown route to Ujiji and entered the dark forests and pressed rapidly
forward. In seven hours he reached the village of Ugunda which numbers
two thousand souls. It was well fortified against the robber, Mirambo.
Around their principal village, some three thousand square acres were
under cultivation, giving them not only all the provisions they wanted
for their own use, but also enough for passing caravans. They could also
furnish carriers for those in want of them. On the 28th, they arrived at
a small village well supplied with corn, and the next day reached
Kikura a place impregnated with the most deadly of African fevers. Over
desert plains, now sheering on one side to avoid the corpse of a man
dead from small-pox, the scourge of Africa, and again stumbling on a
skeleton, the caravan kept on till they came to the cultivated fields of
Manyara.
A wilderness one hundred and thirty-five miles in extent stretched out
before them from this place, and Stanley was inclined to be very
conciliatory toward the chief of the village, in order to get provisions
for the long and desperate march before him. But the chief was very
sullen and wholly indifferent to the presents the white man offered him.
With adroit diplomacy, Stanley sent to him some magnificent royal
cloths, which so mollified the chief that abundant provisions were soon
sent in, followed by the chief himself with fifty warriors bearing gifts
quite equal to those which Stanley sent him, and they entered the tent
of the first white man they had ever seen. Looking at him for some time
in silent surprise, the chiefs burst into an incontrollable fit of
laughter, accompanied with snapping their fingers. But when they were
shown the sixteen-shooters and revolvers their astonishment knew no
bounds, while the double-barreled guns, heavily charged, made them jump
to their feet with alarm, followed by convulsions of laughter. Stanley
then showed them his chest of medicine, and finally gave them a dose in
the form of brandy. They tasted it, making wry faces, when he produced a
bottle of concentrated ammonia, saying that it was for snake bites. One
of the chiefs asked for some of it. It was suddenly presented to his
nose, when his features underwent such indescribable contortions that
the other chiefs burst into convulsions of laughter, clapped their
hands, pinched each other and went through all sorts of ludicrous
gesticulations. When the chief recovered himself, the tears in the
meanwhile rolling down his cheeks, he laughed and simply said, "_strong_
medicine." The others then took a sniff and went off into paroxysms of
laughter.
Wednesday, October 4th, found them traveling toward the Gombe River.
They had hardly left the waving corn-fields, when they came in sight of
a large herd of zebras. Passing on, the open forest resembled a
magnificent park, filled with buffalo, zebra, giraffe, antelope and
other tropical animals, while the scenery on every side was entrancing.
These noble animals, coursing in their wild freedom through those grand,
primeval forests, presented a magnificent sight. Stanley, thoroughly
aroused, crept back to his camp, which had been pitched on the Gombe
River, and prepared for a right royal hunt. He says:
"Here, at last, was the hunter's paradise! How petty and insignificant
appeared my hunts after small antelope and wild boar; what a foolish
waste of energies, those long walks through damp grasses and thorny
jungles. Did I not well remember my first bitter experience in African
jungles, when in the maritime region? But this--where is the nobleman's
park that can match this scene? Here is a soft, velvety expanse of young
grass, grateful shade under close, spreading clumps, herds of large and
varied game browsing within easy rifle-shot. Surely I must feel amply
compensated now for the long southern detour I have made, when such a
prospect as this opens to the view! No thorny jungles and rank-smelling
swamps are to daunt the hunter, and to sicken his aspirations after true
sport. No hunter could aspire after a nobler field to display his
prowess.
[Illustration: A SPRING-BOK BROWSING]
"Having settled the position of the camp, which overlooked one of the
pools found in the depression of the Gombe Creek, I took my
double-barreled smooth bore, and sauntered off to the parkland. Emerging
from behind a clump, three fine, plump spring-bok were seen browsing on
the young grass just within one hundred yards. I knelt down and fired;
one unfortunate antelope bounded forward instinctively and fell dead.
Its companions sprang high into the air, taking leaps about twelve feet
in length, as if they were quadrupeds practicing gymnastics, and away
they vanished, rising up like India-rubber balls, until a knoll hid
them from view. My success was hailed with loud shouts by the soldiers,
who came running out from the camp as soon as they heard the
reverberation of the gun, and my gun-bearer had his knife at the throat
of the beast, uttering a fervent 'Bismillah' as he almost severed the
head from the body.
"Hunters were now directed to proceed east and north to procure meat,
because in each caravan it generally happens that there are _fundi_
whose special trade it is to hunt for meat for the camp. Some of these
are experts in stalking, but often find themselves in dangerous
positions, owing to the near approach necessary before they can fire
their most inaccurate weapons with any certainty.
"After luncheon, consisting of spring-bok steak, hot corn-cake and a cup
of Mocha coffee, I strolled toward the southwest, accompanied by Kalulu
and Majwara, two boy gun-bearers. The tiny perpusilla started up like
rabbits from me as I stole along through the underbrush; the honey-bird
hopped from tree to tree chirping its call, as if it thought I was
seeking the little sweet treasure, the hiding-place of which it only
knew; but, no! I neither desired perpusilla nor the honey. I was on the
search for something great this day. Keen-eyed fish-eagles and bustards
poised on trees above the sinuous Gombe thought, and probably with good
reason, that I was after them, judging by the ready flight with which
both species disappeared as they sighted my approach. Ah, no! nothing
but hartbeest, zebra, giraffe, eland and buffalo this day.
"After following the Gombe's course for about a mile, delighting my eyes
with long looks at the broad and lengthy reaches of water, to which I
was so long a stranger, I came upon a scene which delighted the
innermost recesses of my soul; five, six, seven, eight, ten zebras
switching their beautiful striped bodies, and biting one another, within
about one hundred and fifty yards. The scene was so pretty, so romantic,
never did I so thoroughly realize that I was in Central Africa. I felt
momentarily proud that I owned such a vast dominion, inhabited by such
noble beasts. Here I possessed, within reach of a leaden ball, any one I
chose of the beautiful animals, the pride of the African forests. It was
at my option to shoot any one of them. Mine they were, without money and
without price; yet, knowing this, twice I dropped my rifle, loath to
wound the royal beasts, but--crack! and a royal one was on his back,
battling the air with his legs. Ah, it was such a pity! but hasten, draw
the keen, sharp-edged knife across the beautiful stripes which fold
around the throat, and--what an ugly gash! it is done, and I have a
superb animal at my feet. Hurrah! I shall taste of Ukonongo zebra
to-night.
"I thought a spring-bok and zebra enough for one day's sport,
especially after a long march. The Gombe, a long stretch of deep water,
winding in and out of green groves, calm, placid, with lotus leaves
resting lightly on its surface, all pretty, picturesque, peaceful as a
summer's dream, looked very inviting for a bath. I sought out the most
shady spot under a wide-spreading mimosa, from which the ground sloped
smooth as a lawn to the still, clear water. I ventured to undress, and
had already stepped to my ankles in the water, and had brought my hands
together for a glorious dive, when my attention was attracted by an
enormously long body which shot into view, occupying the spot beneath
the surface which I was about to explore by a 'header.' Great heavens,
it was a crocodile! I sprang back instinctively, and this proved my
salvation, for the monster turned away with the most disappointed look,
and I was left to congratulate myself upon my narrow escape from his
jaws, and to register a vow never to be tempted again by the treacherous
calm of an African river."