The Departure.--the Tornado.--arrival at "The Bush."
I set out early on March 19th, a day, at that time, to me the
most melancholy in the year, but now regarded with philosophic
indifference. A parting visit to the gallant "Griffons," who
threw the slipper, in the shape of three hearty cheers and a
"tiger," wasted a whole morning. It was 12.30 P.M. before the
mission boat turned her head towards the southern bank, and her
crew began to pull in the desultory manner of the undisciplined
negro.
The morning had been clear but close, till a fine sea breeze set
in unusually early. "The doctor" seldom rises in the Gaboon
before noon at this season; often he delays his visit till 2
P.M., and sometimes he does not appear at all. On the other hand,
he is fond of late hours. Before we had progressed a mile,
suspicious gatherings of slaty-blue cloud-heaps advanced from the
north-east against the wind, with a steady and pertinacious
speed, showing that mischief was meant. The "cruel, crawling sea"
began to rough, purr, and tumble; a heavy cross swell from the
south-west dandled the up-torn mangrove twigs, as they floated
past us down stream, and threatened to swamp the deeply laden and
cranky old boat, which was far off letter A1 of Lloyd's. The
oarsmen became sulky because they were not allowed to make sail,
which, in case of a sudden squall, could not have been taken in
under half an hour. Patience! Little can be done, on the first
day, with these demi-semi-Europeanized Africans, except to
succeed in the inevitable trial of strength.
The purple sky-ground backing the Gaboon's upper course admirably
set off all its features. Upon the sea horizon, where the river
measures some thirty miles across, I could distinctly see the
junction of the two main branches, the true Olo' Mpongwe, the
main stream flowing from the Eastern Ghats, and the Rembwe
(Ramboue) or south-eastern influent. At the confluence, tree-
dots, tipping the watery marge, denoted what Barbot calls the
"Pongo Islands." These are the quoin-shaped mass "Dámbe" (Orleans
Island) alias "Coniquet" (the Conelet), often corrupted to
Konikey; the Konig Island of the old Hollander,[FN#3] and the
Prince's Island of the ancient Briton. It was so called because
held by the Mwáni-pongo, who was to this region what the Mwáni-
congo was farther south. The palace was large but very mean, a
shell of woven reeds roofed with banana leaves: the people, then
mere savages, called their St. James' "Goli-patta," or "Royal
House," in imitation of a more civilized race near Cape Lopez.
The imperial islet is some six miles in circumference; it was
once very well peopled, and here ships used to be careened. The
northern point which starts out to meet it is Ovindo (Owëendo of
old), alias Red Point, alias "Rodney's," remarkable for its fair
savannah, of which feature more presently. In mid-stream lies
Mbini (Embenee), successively Papegay, Parrot--there is one in
every Europeo-African river--and Adelaide Island.
Between Ovindo Point, at the northern bend of the stream, stand
the so-called "English villages," divided from the French by
marshy ground submerged during heavy rains. The highest upstream
is Olomi, Otonda-naga, or town of "Cabinda," a son of the late
king. Next comes Glass Town, belonging to a dynasty which has
lasted a century--longer than many of its European brethren. In
1787 a large ship-bell was sent as a token of regard by a Bristol
house, Sydenham and Co., to an old, old "King Glass," whose
descendants still reign. Olomi and Glass Town are preferred by
the English, as their factories catch the sea-breeze better than
can Le Plateau: the nearer swamps are now almost drained off, and
the distance from the "authorities" is enough for comfort. Follow
Comba (Komba) and Tom Case, the latter called after Case Glass, a
scion of the Glasses, who was preferred as captain's "tradesman"
by Captain Vidal, R.N., in 1827, because he had "two virtues
which rarely fall to the lot of savages, namely, a mild, quiet
manner, and a low tone of voice when speaking." Tom Qua Ben,
justly proud of the "laced coat of a mail coach guard," was
chosen by Captain Boteler, R.N. The list concludes with Butabeya,
James Town, and Mpira.
These villages are not built street-wise after Mpongwe fashion.
They are scatters of shabby mat-huts, abandoned after every
freeman's death; and they hardly emerge from the luxuriant
undergrowth of manioc and banana, sensitive plant and physic nut
(Jatropha Curcas), clustering round a palm here and there. Often
they are made to look extra mean by a noble "cottonwood," or
Bombax (Pentandrium), standing on its stalwart braces like an old
sea-dog with parted legs; extending its roots over a square acre
of soil, shedding filmy shade upon the surrounding underwood, and
at all times ready, like a certain chestnut, to shelter a hundred
horses.
Between the Plateau and Santa Clara, beginning some two miles
below the former, are those hated and hating rivals, Louis Town,
Qua Ben, and Prince Krinje, the French settlements. The latter is
named after a venerable villain who took in every white man with
whom he had dealings, till the new colony abolished that
exclusive agency, that monopoly so sacred in negro eyes, which
here corresponded with the Abbánat of the Somal. Mr. Wilson (p.
252) recounts with zest a notable trick played by this "little,
old, grey-headed, humpback man" upon Captain Bouët-Willaumez, and
Mr. W. Winwood Reade (chap, xi.) has ably dramatized "Krinji,
King George and the Commandant." On another occasion, the whole
population of the Gaboon was compelled by a French man-o-war to
pay "Prince Cringy's" debts, and he fell into disfavour only when
he attempted to wreck a frigate by way of turning an honest
penny.
But soon we had something to think of besides the view. The
tumultuous assemblage of dark, dense clouds, resting upon the
river-surface in our rear, formed line or rather lines, step upon
step, and tier on tier. While the sun shone treacherously gay, a
dismal livid gloom palled the eastern sky, descending to the
watery horizon; and the estuary, beneath the sable hangings which
began to depend from the cloud canopy, gleamed with a ghastly
whitish green. Distant thunders rumbled and muttered, and flashes
of the broadest sheets inclosed fork and chain lightning; the
lift-fire zigzagged in tangled skeins here of chalk-white
threads, there of violet wires, to the surface of earth and sea.
Presently nimbus-step, tier and canopy, gradually breaking up,
formed a low arch regular as the Bifröst bridge which Odin
treads, spanning a space between the horizon, ninety degrees
broad and more. The sharply cut soffit, which was thrown out in
darkest relief by the dim and sallow light of the underlying sky,
waxed pendent and ragged, as though broken by a torrent of storm.
What is technically called the "ox-eye," the "egg of the
tornado," appeared in a fragment of space, glistening below the
gloomy rain-arch. The wind ceased to blow; every sound was hushed
as though Nature were nerving herself, silent for the throe, and
our looks said, "In five minutes it will be down upon us." And
now it comes. A cold blast smelling of rain, and a few drops or
rather splashes, big as gooseberries and striking with a blow,
are followed by a howling squall, sharp and sudden puffs,
pulsations and gusts; at length a steady gush like a rush of
steam issues from that awful arch, which, after darkening the
heavens like an eclipse, collapses in fragmentary torrents of
blinding rain. In the midst of the spoon-drift we see, or we
think we see, "La Junon" gliding like a phantom-ship towards the
river mouth. The lightning seems to work its way into our eyes,
the air-shaking thunder rolls and roars around our very ears; the
oars are taken in utterly useless, the storm-wind sweeps the boat
before it at full speed as though it had been a bit of straw.
Selim and I sat with a large mackintosh sheet over our hunched
backs, thus offering a breakwater to the waves; happily for us,
the billow-heads were partly cut off and carried away bodily by
the raging wind, and the opened fountains of the firmament beat
down the breakers before they could grow to their full growth.
Otherwise we were lost men; the southern shore was still two
miles distant, and, as it was, the danger was not despicable.
These tornadoes are harmless enough to a cruiser, and under a
good roof men bless them. But H.M.S. "Heron" was sunk by one, and
the venture of a cranky gig laden à fleur d'eau is what some call
"tempting Providence."
Stunned with thunder, dazzled by the vivid flashes of white
lightning, dizzy with the drive of the boat, and drenched by the
torrents and washings from above and below, we were not a little
pleased to feel the storm-wind slowly lulling, as it had cooled
the heated regions ahead, and to see the sky steadily clearing up
behind, as the blackness of the cloud, rushing with racer speed,
passed over and beyond us. The increasing stillness of the sea
raised our spirits;
"For nature, only loud when she destroys,
Is silent when she fashions."
But the storm-demon's name is "Tornado" (Cyclone): it will
probably veer round to the south, where, meeting the dry clouds
that are gathering and massing there, it will involve us in
another fray. Meanwhile we are safe, and as the mist clears off
we sight the southern shore. The humbler elevation, notably
different from the northern bank, is dotted with villages and
clearings. The Péninsula de Marie-Amélie, alias "Round Corner,"
the innermost southern point visible from the mouth, projects to
the north-north-east in a line of scattered islets at high tides,
ending in Le bois Fétiche, a clump of tall trees somewhat
extensively used for picnics. It has served for worse purposes,
as the name shows.
A total of two hours landed me from the Comte de Paris Roads upon
the open sandy strip that supports Denistown; the single broad
street runs at right angles from the river, the better to catch
the sea-breeze, and most of the huts have open gables, a practice
strongly to be recommended. Le Roi would not expose himself to
the damp air; the consul was not so particular. His majesty's
levée took place in the verandah of a poor bamboo hut, one of the
dozen which compose his capital. Seated in a chair and ready for
business, he was surrounded by a crowd of courtiers, who listened
attentively to every word, especially when he affected to
whisper; and some pretty women collected to peep round the
corners at the Utangáni (white man). [FN#4]
Mr. Wilson described Roi Denis in 1856 as a man of middle
stature, with compact frame and well-made, of great muscular
power, about sixty years old, very black by contrast with the
snow-white beard veiling his brown face. "He has a mild and
expressive eye, a gentle and persuasive voice, equally affable
and dignified; and, taken altogether, he is one of the most king-
like looking men I have ever met in Africa," says the reverend
gentleman. The account reminded me of Kimwere the Lion of
Usumbara, drawn by Dr. Krapf. Perhaps six years had exercised a
degeneratory effect upon Roi Denis, or perchance I have more
realism than sentiment; my eyes could see nothing but a petit
vieux vieux, nearer sixty than seventy, with a dark, wrinkled
face, and an uncommonly crafty eye, one of those African organs
which is always occupied in "taking your measure" not for your
good.
I read out the introductory letter from Baron Didelot--the king
speaks a little French and English, but of course his education
ends there. After listening to my projects and to my offers of
dollars, liquor, and cloth, Roi Denis replied, with due gravity,
that his chasseurs were all in the plantations, but that for a
somewhat increased consideration he would attach to my service
his own son Ogodembe, alias Paul. It was sometime before I found
out the real meaning of this crafty move; the sharp prince, sent
to do me honour, intended me to recommend him to Mr. Hogg as an
especially worthy recipient of "trust." Roi Denis added an
abundance of "sweet mouf," and, the compact ended, he
condescendingly walked down with me to the beach, shook hands and
exchanged a civilized "Au revoir." I reentered the boat, and we
pushed off once more.
Prince Paul, a youth of the Picaresque school, a hungry as well
as a thirsty soul and vain with knowledge, which we know "puffeth
up," having the true African eye on present gain as well as to
future "trust," proceeded: "Papa has at least a hundred sons,"
enough to make Dan Dinmont blush, "and say" (he was not sure), "a
hundred and fifty daughters. Father rules all the southern shore;
the French have no power beyond the brack and there are no
African rivals,"--the prince evidently thought that the new-comer
had never heard of King George. Like most juniors here, the youth
knew French, or rather Gaboon-French; it was somewhat startling
to hear clearly and tolerably pronounced, "M'sieur, veux-tu des
macacques?" But the jargon is not our S'a Leone and West-coast
"English;" the superior facility of pronouncing the neo-Latin
tongues became at once apparent. It is evident that European
languages have been a mistake in Africa: the natives learn a
smattering sufficient for business purposes and foreigners remain
without the key to knowledge; hence our small progress in
understanding negro human nature. Had we so acted in British
India, we should probably have held the proud position which now
contents us in China as in Western Africa, with factories and
hulks at Bombay, Calcutta, Karachi, and Madras.
From Comte de Paris Roads the southern Gaboon shore is called in
charts Le Paletuvier, the Mangrove Bank; the rhizophora is the
growth of shallow brackish water, and at the projections there
are fringings of reefs and "diabolitos," dangerous to boats.
After two hours we crossed the Mombe (Mombay) Creek-mouth, with
its outlying rocks, and passed the fishing village of Nenga-Oga,
whence supplies are sent daily to the Plateau. Then doubling a
point of leek-green grass, based upon comparatively poor soil,
sand, and clay, and backed by noble trees, we entered the Mbátá
River, the Toutiay of the chart and the Batta Creek of M. du
Chaillu's map. It comes from the south-west, and it heads much
nearer the coast than is shown on paper.
Presently the blood-red sun sank like a fire-balloon into the
west, flushing with its last fierce beams the higher clouds of
the eastern sky, and lighting the white and black plume of the
soaring fish-eagle. This Gypohierax (Angolensis) is a very wild
bird, flushed at 200 yards: I heard of, but I never saw, the
Gwanyoni, which M. du Chaillu, (chapter xvi.) calls Guanionian,
an eagle or a vulture said to kill deer. Rain fell at times,
thunder, anything but "sweet thunder," again rolled in the
distance; and lightning flashed and forked before and behind us,
becoming painfully vivid in the shades darkening apace. We could
see nothing of the channel but a steel-grey streak, like a
Damascus blade, in a sable sheathing of tall mangrove avenue; in
places, however, tree-clumps suggested delusive hopes that we
were approaching a region where man can live. On our return we
found many signs of population which had escaped our sight during
the fast-growing obscurity. The first two reaches were long and
bulging; the next became shorter, and Prince Paul assured us
that, after one to the right, and another to the left, we should
fall into the direct channel. Roi Denis had promised us arrival
at sunset; his son gradually protracted sunset till midnight.
Still the distance grew and grew. I now learned for the first
time that the boat was too large for the channel, and that oars
were perfectly useless ahead.
At 8 P.M. we entered what seemed a cul de sac; it looked like
charging a black wall, except where a gleam of grey light
suggested the further end of the Box Tunnel, and cheered our poor
hearts for a short minute, whilst in the distance we heard the
tantalizing song of the wild waves. The boughs on both sides
brushed the boat; we held our hands before our faces to avoid the
sharp stubs threatening ugly stabs, and to fend off the low
branches, ready to sweep us and our belongings into the deep
swirling water. The shades closed in like the walls of the
Italian's dungeon; until our eyes grew to it, the blackness of
Erebus weighed upon our spirits; perspiration poured from our
brows, and in this watery mangrove-lane the pabulum vitæ seemed
to be wanting. After forcing a passage through three vile
"gates," the sheet-lightning announced a second tornado. We
sighed for more vivid flashes, but after twenty minutes they
dimmed and died away, still showing the "bush"-silhouette on
either side. The tide rushed out in strength under the amphibious
forest--all who know the West Coast will appreciate the position.
It was impossible to advance or to remain in this devil's den,
the gig bumped at every minute, and the early flood would
probably crush her against the trees. So we dropped down to the
nearest "open," which we reached at 9.30 P.M.
After enduring a third tornado we grounded, and the crew sprang
ashore, saying that they were going to boil plantains on the
bank. I made snug for the night with a wet waterproof and a strip
of muslin, to be fastened round the mouth after the fashion of
Outram's "fever guard," and shut my lips to save my life, by the
particular advice of Dr. Catlin. The first mosquito piped his "Io
Pæan" at 8 P.M.; another hour brought legions, and then began the
battle for our blood. I had resolved not to sleep in the fetid
air of the jungle; time, however, moved on wings of lead; a dull
remembrance of a watery moon, stars dimly visible, a southerly
breeze, and heavy drops falling from the trees long haunted me.
About midnight, Prince Paul, who had bewailed the hardship of
passing a night sans mostiquaire in the bush, and whose violent
plungings showed that he failed to manage un somme, proposed to
land and to fetch fire from l'habitation.
"What habitation?"
"Oh! a little village belonging to papa."
"And why the ---didn't you mention it?"
"Ah! this is Mponbinda, and you know we're bound for Mbátá!"
Nothing negrotic now astonishes us, there is nought new to me in
Africa. We landed upon a natural pier of rock ledge, and, after
some 400 yards of good path, we entered a neat little village,
and found our crew snoring snugly asleep. We "exhorted them,"
refreshed the fire, and generously recruited exhausted nature
with quinine, julienne and tea, potatoes and potted meats, pipes
and cigars. So sped my annual unlucky day, and thus was spent my
first jungle-night almost exactly under the African line.
At 5 A. M. the new morning dawned, the young tide flowed, the
crabs disappeared, and the gig, before high and dry on the hard
mud, once more became buoyant. Forward again! The channel was a
labyrinthine ditch, an interminable complication of over-arching
roots, and of fallen trees forming gateways; the threshold was a
maze of slimy stumps, stems, and forks in every stage of growth
and decay, dense enough to exclude the air of heaven. In parts
there were ugly snags, and everywhere the turns were so puzzling,
that I marvelled how a human being could attempt the passage by
night. The best time for ascending is half-flood, for descending
half-ebb; if the water be too high, the bush chokes the way; if
too low, the craft grounds. At the Gaboon mouth the tide rises
three feet; at the head of the Mbátá Creek, where it arrests the
sweet water rivulet, it is, of course, higher.
And now the scene improved. The hat-palm, a brab or wild date,
the spine-palm (Phnix spinosa), and the Okumeh or cotton-tree
disputed the ground with the foul Rhizophora. Then clearings
appeared. At Ejéné, the second of two landing-places evidently
leading to farms, we transferred ourselves to canoes, our boat
being arrested by a fallen tree. Advancing a few yards, all
disembarked upon trampled mud, and, ascending the bank, left the
creek which supplies baths and drinking water to our destination.
Striking a fair pathway, we passed westward over a low wave of
ground, sandy and mouldy, and traversed a fern field surrounded
by a forest of secular trees; some parasite-grown from twig to
root, others blanched and scathed by the fires of heaven; these
roped and corded with runners and llianas, those naked and
clothed in motley patches. At 6.30 A.M., after an hour's work,
probably representing a mile, and a total of 7 h. 30 m., or six
miles in a south-south-west direction from Le Plateau, we left
the ugly cul de sac of a creek, and entered Mbátá, which the
French call "La Plantation."
Women and children fled in terror at our approach--and no wonder:
eyes like hunted boars, haggard faces, yellow as the sails at the
Cape Verdes, and beards two days long, act very unlike cosmetics.
A house was cleared for us by Hotaloya, alias "Andrew," of the
Baráka Mission, the lord of the village, who, poor fellow! has
only two wives; he is much ashamed of himself, but his excuse is,
"I be boy now," meaning about twenty-two. After breakfast we
prepared for a sleep, but the popular excitement forbade it; the
villagers had heard that a white greenhorn was coming to bag and
to buy gorillas, and they resolved to make hay whilst the sun
shone.
Prince Paul at once gathered together a goodly crowd of fathers
and mothers, uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters, cousins and
connections. A large and loud-voiced dame, "Gozeli," swore that
she was his "proper Ngwe," being one of his numerous step mas,
and she would not move without a head, or three leaves, of
tobacco. Hotaloya was his brother; Mesdames Azízeh and Asúnye
declared themselves his sisters, and so all. My little stock of
goods began visibly to shrink, when I informed the greedy
applicants that nothing beyond a leaf of tobacco and a demi verre
of tafia would be given until I had seen my way to work.
Presently appeared the chief huntsman appointed by Roi Denis to
take charge of me, he was named Fortuna, a Spanish name corrupted
to Forteune. A dash was then prepared for his majesty and for
Prince Paul. I regret to say that this young nobleman ended his
leave-taking by introducing a pretty woman, with very neat hands
and ankles and a most mutine physiognomy, as his sister,
informing me that she was also my wife pro temp. She did not seem
likely to coiffer Sainte Cathérine, and here she is.
The last thing the prince did was to carry off, without a word of
leave, the mission boat and the three Kru-boys, whom he kept two
days. I was uneasy about these fellows, who, hating and fearing
the Gaboon "bush," are ever ready to bolt.
Forteune and Hotaloya personally knew Mpolo (Paul du Chaillu),
and often spoke to me of his prowess as a chasseur and his
knowledge of their tongue. But reputation as a linguist is easily
made in these regions by speaking a few common sentences. The
gorilla-hunter evidently had only a colloquial acquaintance with
the half-dozen various idioms of the Mpongwe and Mpángwe (Fán)
Bakele, Shekyani, and Cape Lopez people. Yet, despite verbal
inaccuracies, his facility of talking gave him immense advantages
over other whites, chiefly in this, that the natives would deem
it useless to try the usual tricks upon travellers.
Forteune is black, short, and "trapu;" curls of the jettiest
lanugo invest all his outward man; bunches of muscle stand out
from his frame like the statues of Crotonian Milo; his legs are
bandy; his hands and feet are large and patulous, and he wants
only a hunch to make an admirable Quasimodo. He has the frank and
open countenance of a sportsman--I had been particularly warned
by the Plateau folk about his skill in cheating and lying.
Formerly a cook at the Gaboon, he is a man of note in his tribe,
as the hunter always is; he holds the position of a country
gentleman, who can afford to write himself M.F.H.; he is looked
upon as a man of valour; he is admired by the people, and he is
adored by his wives--one of them at once took up her station upon
the marital knee. Perhaps the Nimrod of Mbátá is just a little
henpecked--the Mpongwe mostly are--and I soon found out that
soigner les femmes is the royal road to getting on with the men.
He supplies the village with "beef," here meaning not the roast
of Old England, but any meat, from a field-rat to a hippopotamus.
He boasts that he has slain with his own hand upwards of a
hundred gorillas and anthropoid apes, and, since the demand arose
in Europe, he has supplied Mr. R.B.N. Walker and others with an
average of one per month, including a live youngster; probably
most, if not all, of them were killed by his "bushmen," of whom
he can command about a dozen.
Forteune began by receiving his "dash," six fathoms of "satin
cloth," tobacco, and pipes. After inspecting my battery, he
particularly approved of a smooth-bored double-barrel (Beattie of
Regent Street) carrying six to the pound. Like all these people,
he uses an old and rickety trade-musket, and, when lead is
wanting, he loads it with a bit of tile: as many gorillas are
killed with tools which would hardly bring down a wild cat, it is
evident that their vital power cannot be great. He owned to
preferring a charge of twenty buckshot to a single ball, and he
received with joy a little fine gunpowder, which he compared
complimentarily with the blasting article, half charcoal withal,
to which he was accustomed.
Presently a decently dressed, white-bearded man of light
complexion announced himself, with a flourish and a loud call for
a chair, as Prince Koyálá, alias "Young Prince," father to
Forteune and Hotaloya and brother to Roi Denis,--here all
tribesmen are of course brethren. This being equivalent to
"asking for more," it drove me to the limits of my patience. It
was evidently now necessary to assume wrath, and to raise my
voice to a roar.
"My hands dey be empty! I see nuffin, I hear nuffin! What for I
make more dash?"
Allow me, parenthetically, to observe that the African, like the
Scotch Highlander, will interpose the personal or demonstrative
pronoun between noun and verb: "sun he go down," means "the sun
sets" and, as genders do not exist, you must be careful to say,
"This woman he cry too much."
The justice of my remark was owned by all; had it been the height
of tyranny, the supple knaves would have agreed with me quite as
politely. They only replied that "Young Prince," being a man of
years and dignity, would be dishonoured by dismissal empty-
handed, and they represented him as my future host when we moved
nearer the bush.
"Now lookee here. This he be bad plábbá (palaver). This he be
bob! I come up for white man, you come up for black man. All
white man he no be fool, 'cos he no got black face!"
Ensued a chorus of complimentary palaver touching the infinite
superiority of the Aryan over the Semite, but the point was in no
wise yielded. At last Young Prince subsided into a request for a
glass of rum, which being given "cut the palaver" (i.e. ended the
business). I soon resolved to show my hosts, by threatening to
leave them, the difference between traders and travellers. Barbot
relates that the Mpongwe of olden time demanded his "dassy"
before he consented to "liquor up," and boldly asked, "If he was
expected to drink gratis?" The impertinence was humoured,
otherwise not an ivory would have found its way to the factory.
But the traveller is not bound to endure these whimsy-whamsies;
and the sooner he declares his independence the better. Many
monkeys' skins were brought to me for sale, but I refused to buy,
lest the people might think it my object to make money; moreover,
all were spoilt for specimens by the "points" being snipped off.
I happened during the first afternoon to show my hosts a picture
of the bald-headed chimpanzee, Nchígo Mbúwwe (Troglodytes
calvus), here more generally called Nchígo Mpolo, "large
chimpanzee," or Nchígo Njúe, "white-haired chimpanzee." They
recognized it at once; but when I turned over to the cottage
("Adventures," &c., p. 423), with its neat parachute-like roof,
all burst out laughing.
"You want to look him Nágo (house)?" asked Hotaloya.
"Yes, for sure," I replied.
Forteune set out at once, carrying my gun, Selim followed me, and
the rear was brought up by a couple of little prick-eared curs
with a dash of the pointer, probably from St. Helena: the people
will pay as much as ten dollars for a good dog. They are never
used in hunting apes, as they start the game; on this occasion
they nearly ran down a small antelope.
The path led through a new clearing; a field of fern and some
patches of grass breaking the forest, which, almost clear of
thicket and undergrowth, was a charming place for deer. The soil,
thin sand overlying humus, suggested rich crops of ground-nuts;
its surface was everywhere cut by nullahs, now dry, and by
brooks, running crystal streams; these, when deep, are crossed by
tree-trunks, the Brazilian "pingela." After twenty minutes or so
we left the "picada" (foot-path) and struck into a thin bush,
till we had walked about a mile.
"Look him house, Nchígo house!" said Hotaloya, standing under a
tall tree.
I saw to my surprise two heaps of dry sticks, which a schoolboy
might have taken for birds' nests; the rude beds, boughs, torn
off from the tree, not gathered, were built in forks, one ten and
the other twenty feet above ground, and both were canopied by the
tufted tops. Every hunter consulted upon the subject ridiculed
the branchy roof tied with vines, and declared that the Nchigo's
industry is confined to a place for sitting, not for shelter;
that he fashions no other dwelling; that a couple generally
occupies the same or some neighbouring tree, each sitting upon
its own nest; that the Nchígo is not a "hermit" nor a rare, nor
even a very timid animal; that it dwells, as I saw, near
villages, and that its cry, "Aoo! Aoo! Aoo!" is often heard by
them in the mornings and evenings. During my subsequent
wanderings in Gorilla land, I often observed tall and mushroom-
shaped trees standing singly, and wearing the semblance of the
umbrella roof. What most puzzles me is, that M. du Chaillu
("Second Expedition," chap, iii.) "had two of the bowers cut down
and sent to the British Museum." He adds, "They are formed at a
height of twenty to thirty feet in the trees, by the animals
bending over and intertwining a number of the weaker boughs, so
as to form bowers, under which they can sit, protected from the
rains by the masses of foliage thus entangled together, some of
the boughs being so bent that they form convenient seats." Surely
M. du Chaillu must have been deceived by some vagary of nature.
The gorilla-hunter's sketch had always reminded me of the Rev.
Mr. Moffat's account of the Hylobian Bakones, the aborigines of
the Matabele country. Mr. Thompson, a missionary to Sherbro ("The
Palm Land," chap. xiii), has, however, these words:--"It is said
of the chimpanzees, that they build a kind of rude house of
sticks in their wild state, and fill it with leaves; and I doubt
it not, for when domesticated they always want some good bed, and
make it up regularly."
Thus I come to the conclusion that the Nchígo Mpolo is a vulgar
nest-building ape. The bushmen and the villagers all assured me
that neither the common chimpanzee, nor the gorilla proper
(Troglodytes gorilla), "make 'im house." On the other hand, Mr.
W. Winwood Reade, writing to "The Athenæum" from Loanda (Sept. 7,
1862), asserts,--"When the female is pregnant he (the gorilla)
builds a nest (as do also the Kulu-Kamba and the chimpanzee),
where she is delivered, and which is then abandoned." And he thus
confirms what was told to Dr. Thomas Savage (1847): "In the wild
state their (i.e. the gorillas') habits are in general like those
of the Troglodytes niger, building their nests loosely in trees."