AMONG THE CATARACTS.
It is a little singular, that in this age of inquiry and persistent
effort to get at the cause of things, no one has yet attempted to
explain the reason of tribal differences. Aborigines occupying the same
parallels of latitude and longitude, subject to the same influences of
climate, living on the same diet, are different in color, features, and
more than all, in disposition. The real, or supposed influences, that
lie at the bottom of the different races, do not apply here. Difference
of origin, of climate, of food, all these must have great effect in
changing color, features and character, and hence, to a certain extent,
explain how such distinct nationalities exist, but they do not in the
least account for tribal differences where all these are the same, and
where there are not even barriers of mountains and rivers separating
them. Why should our western Indian tribes, roaming over the same
prairies, living on the same food, and similar in all their modes of
life, be yet so different in form, feature and disposition? Is there
really no way of getting a satisfactory, true explanation of all this?
So in Africa, Stanley crossed the continent in the same general range
of latitude. The savages he met were all dwellers of the equatorial
region, and hence lived in the same climate, used the same food, dressed
in the same way, and lived the same life, and yet they were as
dissimilar as different nationalities. If any educational influences had
been brought to bear upon them one could understand this, but none have
been exerted. These same tribal differences Stanley found on the Congo.
Fierce cannibals and gentle agricultural people were living side by
side. Suspicious, faithless men, differing very little from the better
class of monkeys, lived neighbors to tribes unsuspicious and trustful,
and wonderfully advanced in the arts of mechanism. At the falls, which
were named "Stanley Falls," the natives were suspicious, faithless,
cruel, but when he reached the Livingstone Falls, he found the people
hospitable, kind and trustful. When this difference burst on Stanley
practically, he felt it sensibly, but he philosophically dismissed it
with the simple remark, such "is the effect of trade." We cannot accept
this explanation at all, for they had no trade with the outside world,
and they showed the same kindly natures before _he_ commenced trading
with them. The only evidence of their connection with civilized life was
that they had muskets, and yet the very first tribe which possessed them
was the most fierce, implacable and relentless he met with. This
ethnological question has never yet been settled. Still it is not
singular that Stanley did not just then trouble himself with it. As long
as the difference existed and was now in his favor he was content, as
well he might be. The friendly natives at the head of these falls
assured him that he had passed the cannibal country, but they differed
materially as to the number of falls below--one making them three,
another a half dozen or more. No matter whether they were few or many,
they must be passed, though he dragged his canoes over lofty mountains
to do it.
But if the differences in the character of the natives was great, that
in the character of the scenery and aspect of the river was no less so.
The wild, fierce savages had become tame, while the gently flowing
river, studded with green islands, had become wild and fierce and angry.
The gradually descending plain was transformed into the terrific gorge
over which hung beetling cliffs, and the placid current into a roaring
torrent dashing amid rocks, plunging over precipices, and filling the
solitudes with an ever-angry voice. Hostile savages were behind, but
hostile nature was before the adventurers, to whom there would be no
rest till they found the restless sea.
Immediately before them were two stretches of rapids and then a
cataract. The first was a mere piece of broken water that was easily
passed. Having no fear of hostile natives, Stanley leisurely explored
both river and shore to ascertain the best way of getting around the
second rapids. The goods, asses, women and children were taken overland,
while the boats were led with hawsers from rock to rock along the shore.
Fortunately not a rope broke, and by five o'clock the rapids were passed
and all were in camp together.
The last of the rapids Stanley declared to be the wildest stretch of
water he had ever seen. For four miles the river looked as if thrown
upward by volcanic action beneath and at the same time swept by a fierce
hurricane above, and all the while it was dashing madly on at the rate
of thirty miles an hour. Huge troughs would be formed, as if the stream
was yawning asunder, and then the divided water would come together with
a crash, sending up columns twenty feet high to dissolve in foam and
spray. The crash of colliding waves and the steady roar of the rapids
were awful. It was literally a "hell of waters." The land carriage
around this wild stretch was a rough piece of work. Paths of brushwood
were made, and the canoes slowly hauled up rocky heights and slid down
into deep gullies--the women and children toiling after. They were
nearly four days getting around this four miles of impassable rapids.
The men were fainting for want of food when smooth water was at last
reached. This, however, continued but a short distance, when they had to
take to land again and haul their boats over a rocky point for
three-quarters of a mile. This task took three days to accomplish. When
it is remembered that one of the canoes was eighty-five feet long, and
another seventy-five and dug out of a solid tree, we can get some
conception of the tremendous effort it required to transport them over
rocks and hills. When smooth water was again reached, it gave them only
a short respite. Stanley, however, found it necessary to halt and give
the people rest, for the tremendous strain of the last week was telling
fearfully on them.
On the 25th, they found themselves once more confronted by ugly rapids.
In endeavoring to lead the boats around them, the best canoe was dragged
by the mere force of the current from the hands of fifty men and whirled
down the mad stream and dashed to pieces. Toiling amid the rocks several
men were injured, one having his shoulder dislocated, while Stanley fell
into a chasm thirty feet deep, but fortunately struck on his feet, and
thus escaped with some slight bruises, though he was very much stunned.
On the 27th, they succeeded in getting past this "cauldron," as it was
called, although they narrowly escaped losing their largest canoe. The
next day they had smooth water for a short distance and then they came
to "Rocky Falls." These, however, were passed with comparative ease and
two men were sent forward to explore. They reported, on their return,
that about a mile below was another cataract, and that at its head was
an excellent camping place in a sheltered bay. Stanley determined to
reach this spot before dark, and so, manning his seventeen remaining
canoes, he led the way, hugging the shore, so as not to get into the
suction of the water above the falls. All were told to follow him and by
no means to venture out into the middle of the stream. Keeping close to
the right bank, he felt his way carefully onward and at last floated
into the tranquil bay, at the head of the fall. Three canoes followed
him, and as he was waiting for the others to come in he saw, to his
horror, the largest canoe in midstream and coming down like a
race-horse. Kalulu had charge of this, and deceived by the smooth,
glassy surface of the stream, he had pulled out into midcurrent. The
moment he was caught by it his doom and that of the four men with him
was sealed. There was nothing to be done by those on shore but to watch
the swiftly-gliding boat till it shot over the edge of the falls to
disappear in the tumult below. Three of the men were Stanley's especial
favorites, and he felt their loss keenly. While his eyes was yet resting
on the spot where they had gone down, another canoe shot in sight,
driving straight for the falls. Fortunately, it struck them at the least
dangerous point and went over safely, then, skillfully working the canoe
toward the shore, its two inmates sprang overboard and swam to land.
Stanley immediately dispatched his boat's crew up-stream to tell the
rest to hug the shore, and in no case to venture out into the stream.
Before they reached the canoes, another one, with only the lad Soudi,
shot by, he crying, as he was borne swiftly onward, "There is but one
God--I am lost, master," and the next moment he too dropped out of
sight. Strange to say, though the canoe was whirled about at the bottom
like a spinning-top, it did not sink, and was finally swept out of sight
behind an island. The rest of the canoes arrived safely.
[Illustration: DEATH OF KALULU.]
The next day Stanley sent Frank to bring over the goods to where he was
encamped, while he himself traded with the natives, whom he found very
friendly, and from whom he obtained abundant provisions. After resting
one day, they got everything round the falls and encamped on the 1st of
April. In the afternoon, to the surprise and joy of all, young Soudi
walked into camp. He had a strange story to tell. He was borne
helplessly down the rapids, confused and dizzy, till at last the boat
drifted against a rock, when he jumped out and got on shore. Before he
had time to think where he was, he was seized from behind and pinioned,
and dragged to the top of the mountain by two men, who stripped and
examined him with great curiosity. The next day several of the tribe
came to see him, one of whom had been in Stanley's camp when King Itsi
visited it, and he told such terrible stories about Stanley and of his
gun that could shoot all day, that they became frightened and took
Soudi back to the place where they had found him, and told him to speak
well of them. The other two men who had gone safely over the fall, and
also joined the camp.
Proceeding on down-stream they came to more rapids, in passing which
they met many narrow escapes. It was, indeed, a succession of rapids,
and while Stanley conducted the boats through them, Frank took the rest
of the party and goods overland. The former examined every inch of the
way carefully before starting. Thus day after day passed, they
continually fighting the relentless river. Sometimes the water was too
rough to admit the passage of the boats, and then they had to be carried
overland. It was slow and tedious work, and but little progress was
made. The question each one kept asking himself was, how long will this
last and when shall we see smooth water again?
Each day was but the repetition of its predecessor, and if the natives
had been as hostile as those farther up the river, they could not have
got on at all. The only variation was when the river took some new whim
or the formation of the country required more effort and new modes of
getting on. Thus one day they undertook to lead the canoes by hawsers
around a rocky point where the eddies set up-stream with the strength
and velocity of a torrent, so that it seemed impossible to get them
down-stream. To add to the difficulty, the cliffs on the top of which
the men with the hawsers stood, were fifty feet high and their jagged
edges sawed the ropes till they parted one after another.
So creeping along the shore to-day, and daring the midstream, which,
though boisterous, was clear of rocks, to-morrow, they kept on, hoping
after the next stretch to reach a quiet flowing river. The Lady Alice
fared hard in this perilous navigation, and once came near being lost.
All this time the resources of the expedition were being exhausted, for
though the natives were friendly everything had to be paid for, and it
was not difficult to answer the question, "How long will our remaining
currency last?"
The next rapids they came to Stanley named the "Lady Alice Rapids,"
because, as we suppose, both he and the boat escaped almost by a miracle
from sharing one sad fate in the wild and mad waters of the Livingstone.
The cables lashed to bow and stern, to let the boat down, parted, or
were snatched from the hands on shore, and away she dashed down the
foaming current. Above, the naked cliffs rose three hundred feet
high--around boiled and tossed the tumultuous waters, and certain
destruction seemed to await the man who had triumphed over so many
obstacles and who at last was nearing the goal of his ambition. The
Arabs, whose life depended on his life, were in despair--their master
was gone--there was no one left to lead them out of this strange
wilderness. Nothing but the coolness of Stanley saved him and his crew.
Watching every change in the flow of the current--resigning himself to
the wild will of the mad waters when struggling was useless--taking
advantage of every favorable change of the current and bidding his men
row for life at the right time, he at length reached shore, and at once
sent messengers to his despairing camp to tell them he was safe. He
knew, and they knew, that all their lives hung on his. He had a narrow
escape, and the natives on shore, as they watched his boat flung about
like a cockle-shell in the boiling surge, looked upon him as lost.
If Stanley wanted any new proof of the affection of his Arabs for him,
he had it now. He had been able, after his fierce struggle with the
rapids and being carried, in the meantime, over one fall, to reach land
at least two miles below his camp, in which he was looked upon as lost.
When, therefore, the message was received that he was alive and safe,
his followers streamed forth in one confused mass, and hastening down
the river, came in a long, straggling line in sight of Stanley, waving
their arms on high, shouting words of welcome and overwhelming him with
expressions of exuberant joy. This involuntary outburst of feeling and
gratitude that their "master" was safe, repaid him tenfold for all the
suffering and peril he had endured. It is strange, when such momentous
results hang on a single life, how we go on as though nothing depended
upon it till the moment comes when we are about losing it.
The men, women and children had joined in this grand exodus to
congratulate Stanley on his deliverance from what appeared certain
death, and the men now returned to bring the goods to this point where
the new camp was pitched. Not twenty rods from it the Nikenke River came
foaming and tumbling into the Livingstone from a precipice one thousand
feet high, with a terrific roar and rumble. Almost as near, another
tributary dashed over a ledge four hundred feet high, while just above
was the wild rapids he had just passed, and just below another stretch
of swift and tumbling water. The din of these surrounding cataracts made
a fearful, terrific music in these mysterious solitudes, and awakened
strange feelings in Stanley, as he lay and listened and wondered what
would come next.
The sharp crash of the near cataract tumbling from its height of a
thousand feet, the low rumble of the lower fall and the deep boom of the
mighty river made up a grand diapason there in the wilds of Central
Africa. West from the great lakes the continent seemed to stretch in one
vast plateau, across which the river moved in placid strength, its
gently sweeping current parted with beautiful islands, that filled the
air with perfume exhaled from countless flowers and tropical plants, and
making a scene of loveliness that intoxicated the senses. But all this
was marred by the presence of blood-thirsty cannibals, whose war-drums
and savage cries filled this world of beauty with terrific sounds and
nameless fears. But the moment the stream reached the edge of this
plateau, where man seemed to become more human, it rolled into cataracts
and rapids, down a steep incline, till it came to the sea. Canoes were
upset and lost, and men were barely saved from death by expert swimming
during these fearful days, and yet Stanley could get no reliable
information from the natives how far down this remorseless stretch of
water extended. This terrible struggle, which the party underwent, and
the exhausting nature of their work may be faintly imagined when it is
stated that for thirty-seven consecutive days they _made less than a
mile a day_. It was a constant succession of rapids from the middle of
March to the latter part of April.
At length, on the 22d, they came to the "big cataract," called by the
natives Inkisi, which Stanley fondly believed would be the last. The
table-land here is one thousand feet high, and the natives occupying it
flocked into Stanley's camp, curious to know how he was to get his
canoes past the falls. When he told them he was going to drag them over
that table-land one thousand feet high, they looked at him in speechless
astonishment. His own men were thunderstruck when he announced to them
his determination. But they had become so accustomed to believe he
could do anything he resolved upon, that they silently acquiesced. The
natives, as they looked at the heavy canoes and then on the lofty
height, with its steep, craggy ascent, took their departure and began to
climb back to their homes to secure their property, for they said, if
the white man intended to fly his boats over the mountains, they did not
know what terrible things might next happen.
Having settled on the undertaking, Stanley immediately set to work to
carry it out, and the first day built a road nearly a mile long. The
next day the Lady Alice and a small canoe were resting on the high
summit. The work was done so quietly and without any disastrous results
to life and property, that the native chiefs were dumb with admiration
and offered to bring six hundred men next day to help haul up the heavy
canoes. They kept their word, and soon boats and baggage were in camp on
the top of the mountain. Sending off a party ten miles ahead to prepare
the natives for his coming, Stanley took the women and children, with
the goods and boat's crew, on to the next tribe to make a camp near the
river, for the purpose of exploring the defile through which he was
finally to work his way.
He had found many articles of English make among the natives, showing
that he was approaching the coast from which these must have been
obtained. They had not, however, been brought there by traders, but had
worked their way up from market to market along the river. The sight of
them was encouraging to the members of the expedition who were getting
worn out, while disease also prevailed to a large extent and threatened
to increase. Still they might be a great way off from the coast yet, in
time if not in distance, if they continued to make but one mile a day.
Hence Stanley had to be very economical in everything, especially in the
use of meat, though the constant and terrible mental and physical strain
on him made it necessary that he should have the most nourishing food.
For lack of this in a simple form, he concocted a dish out of
vegetables, fruit and oil, which proved to him a great benefit.