of waiting, had left two days before to try and arrange transport on
Tanganyika. As it was the season for sowing their crops, very few
carriers were available, and it was evident that I should have to wait
some time before I could obtain sufficient men to transport our loads.
I commenced operations by repacking all the food-boxes and discarding
everything that was not absolutely necessary, as well as the
considerable quantity of stuff that had spoilt through being improperly
packed. The firm responsible, either as a practical joke or an
experiment in the cultivation of fungus, had packed chocolate in paper
wrappers and laid them in hay in a leaky wooden box. As a practical
joke it was weak, but as a venture in fungi-culture a complete success.
In fact, unpacking the boxes reminded me forcibly of the days when, as a
youthful disciple of Isaac Walton, I used to dig for worms in the garden
manure-heap. A series of remarkable tins of sausages added materially
to the excitement of these excavations, one and all having assumed the
outward and visible form of a Rugby football; while as to the inward
invisible grace, I was careful to throw them down wind, when they
exploded on contact with the ground in a manner most satisfactory, to
the utter consternation of six Kaffir dogs and a hyaena. They, having
followed up the wind of the first (a comparatively mild one), were so
overcome by its successors that they clapped their tails between their
legs, and, with a dismal howl, fled, convinced of the superiority of the
white man, even in what they had hitherto considered the black man's
monopoly. Native rumour has it that they are running still.
Having arranged everything and reduced the loads to a minimum, I
succumbed to a dose of fever, and spent Christmas Day in bed, on a cup
of tea. Dr. Castellote, the medical officer of Mr. Mohun's expedition,
was most kind, and when I had sufficiently recovered, we went out
together for a few days' shooting on the River Songwe, which, flowing
into the extreme north-western point of Lake Nyassa, forms part of the
Anglo-German boundary-line.
Before starting, however, I went to a neighbouring village and called
for volunteers to accompany us on our long journey north. I informed
the people in the guest's resting-place, which is kept apart in every
village, that the journey would take many moons; that we should go to
Tanganyika, that north of Tanganyika we should find another lake, then
mighty mountains that made fire, then another lake, then still mightier
mountains so high that the water became as stones; then a fourth lake,
out of which flowed a great river which, after several moons, took one
to the dwelling-places of the white man--large even as hills--where the
white men were even as the sands of the lake-shore; that there we should
find the sea--the water without end--and that I would send back in
steamers large as villages those who came with me, so that they might
return to their homes and tell their brothers of all the wonderful
things they had seen. The people were much impressed and evidently
considered me a very extra special line in liars. They asked me how I
knew what was there--"had I been there to see?" I told them that the
white man knew much, and what he did not know he could find in books
(showing them one). Then they realized that I must be even a finer liar
than they had at first taken me to be. After a little more talking four
stalwart Watonga volunteered to come, thinking it a pity not to see more
of such a transcendent Ananias. One of them, Makanjira, was a small
chief on the lake-shore, and those four men stuck to me through thick
and thin, and all arrived safely at Cairo; but I regret to say that I
have just heard that one of them, Chacachabo, died during the voyage
down the coast. The next day a nude dirty little ruffian came and asked
to go too; he, though but a small boy, came through safely, and is now
setting up a reputation as a liar on his own account. Later on I
obtained twelve more recruits, whom I handed over to Mr. Mohun's
sergeant to be drilled: these men, as it will later transpire, deserted
_en masse_ a few days north of Ujiji. They were Asiska, and a very
unwholesome lot of ruffians.
The doctor and I started off along the lake-shore on a couple of donkeys
lent to us by Mr. Mohun. We had much trouble in inducing them to cross
a large stream that flows into the lake a few miles north of Karonga,
and eventually had to take them bodily by the four legs and throw them
in.
At Chikopolo's there is a Government station in charge of a few native
police; here we stayed for a day, but finding nothing more interesting
than waterbuck and reedbuck, moved north and camped on the Songwe, which
is a stream of considerable importance, and navigable for several miles
from the lake. I was informed that there was a German post on the
northern bank of the river at its junction with the lake, and
accordingly went across to pay my respects. On arrival I found that the
station was in charge of a Goanese native, who promptly endeavoured to
annex my rifle, saying that I had brought it into the country without a
permit. I called upon Mirambo, a splendid old Arab who used to be a
great man in the country. He entertained me with true Arab courtesy,
and loaded my boys with magnificent pine-apples and lemons when I went
away. It was pitiable to see the poor old man, who a few years ago had
commanded thousands, putting on the faded relics of his greatness to do
me honour.
On the way back to camp I came upon an enormous native fishing weir:
there were two or three natives wading waist-deep in the water above the
weir pulling fish out of the baskets, while down-stream, with nothing
but the crazy sticks between, the water was being lashed into foam by
the gyrations of scores of huge crocodiles. I shot fourteen in as many
minutes, averaging fifteen feet in length. The natives flocked in to
express their satisfaction, and actually brought me a present of some
fish. There were a few pookoo on the plain. They are most beautiful
little antelopes and carry themselves exactly like a waterbuck. The
hair is reddish, long, and curly, and the hide (as with all the
waterbucks) very tough and thick. It has been obtained by comparatively
few sportsmen, as it is only found on the Upper Zambesi, Loangwa,
Chambesi, and Mweru district.
On the 13th I moved my camp twelve miles up the river to a village
called N'kana. Here the hills close in upon the river, but leave a
series of delightful little green glades, most likely places for finding
roan antelope, which are numerous in the country. But I was
unsuccessful, though there was some spoor about. While crossing one of
these small glades, a shout of Njoka (snake) from my gun-bearer made me
spring to one side. I found that I had put my foot so close to a
sleeping puff-adder that it would have been impossible to have slipped a
visiting-card between us. The brute still slept; on, till I crushed the
life out of it with an enormous log of wood. It rather scared me, as I
was hunting with bare legs. All this country is infested with
puff-adders, which are the most dangerous snakes in Africa, as they do
not dart away like other snakes, but lie sleeping in the dust till they
are trodden upon. They differ from other snakes in that they strike
backwards. Later on, near the Chambesi, I actually trod upon one; it
struck, but missed me, and turned a back somersault in the air, leaving
the ground entirely. After that I always wore gaiters or stockings. I
have heard of another instance of a puff-adder springing clear of the
ground. This is rendered possible by their habit of striking backwards.
The natives complained of the hut tax and of being forbidden to kill
game: they said that many had crossed over into the German sphere; but
they have all come back in a hurry.
Failing to find roan antelope, I marched back to Chikopolo's across the
hills, and was much struck by the number of butterflies in the woods;
some of them were very beautiful, but so rapid was their flight that it
was exceedingly difficult to catch them. Everywhere there was splendid
cattle country, but unfortunately very little cattle. Before the
rinderpest the whole of the Songwe valley was black with buffalo; now I
do not believe there is a single beast, except in some jungle two days'
march to the north, which the natives told me was haunted by a few
buffalo and elephants. And only a very few head survive of the
countless herds of cattle which were characteristic of the Wankonde.
The Wankonde are a very pleasant-mannered, intelligent people, who were
saved from absolute extinction at the hands of the Angoni, Watonga, and
Arabs by the British occupation of the country. Ethnologically they are
extremely interesting: their ethnographical position in the races has
not yet been satisfactorily ascertained. Their huts, which are very
neat and picturesque, are sometimes square, sometimes round, and worked
in a pattern of round knobs of clay stuck in between the rush walls.
Many are built on a raised clay foundation with a trench to draw off the
rain. The roof is worked in fancy patterns. Their metal work is
first-class, in fact the most finished that I have seen on the east side
of Africa. They have a fair breed of cattle, goats, and sheep, and grow
pineapples, bananas, and pumpkins in profusion. Probably owing to Arab
influence their villages are well laid out, and the banana palms are
planted in carefully aligned avenues. The Arab influence on their music
is obvious. And despite Arab influence they are an exceedingly moral
race. Being a peaceful, pastoral, and agricultural people, they fell an
easy prey to their warlike neighbours and the slave-raiding Arabs.
Lugard speaks of them as having been shot down in the most merciless
manner by the Arabs in his time.
The natives informed me that Mr. Mohun and Captain Verhellen, the
Belgian officer in command of the telegraph escort, were camped on the
Songwe, so I marched back and joined them. They were out for a short
hunting-trip, and I found them ignominiously slaughtering a goat for
meat, although the whole plain was alive with game. On examining Mr.
Mohun's rifle, which he had just bought from a local man of God, I found
that the barrel was so badly worn that it was almost possible to insert
the whole cartridge at the muzzle. That explained his having fired
forty shots without effect. In the evening we strolled out together,
and after a very difficult stalk I pulled off a long shot of three
hundred yards at a good bull pookoo. Captain Verhellen informed me that
he had seen four small grey antelopes, one of which he had wounded and
lost. I could not imagine what they could be; so on the following
morning turned out with his boy to show me where he had seen them. I
had only walked about three miles when I saw one standing in a patch of
green grass. It appeared to be a reedbuck of a beautiful bright
silver-grey colour. There was a small ant-hill between the buck and me
which made stalking easy, and I approached without difficulty to within
sixty yards. I was just pressing the trigger when an ordinary reedbuck
sprang out at my feet and dashed away with a shrill whistle; this
started the grey one, and I only got a running snapshot. The bullet
struck it in the stern but failed to stop it, and the second barrel only
grazed the side. I galloped wildly in pursuit, but the buck kept on its
course for nearly two miles before it stopped. The distance between us
was fully four hundred yards, but I had to take the shot, as it was
watching me, and was evidently prepared to resume its flight. The bullet
struck it far back, and it again galloped away, the second barrel going
wide. Fortunately the plain was extensive and the grass in most places
short, so that I managed to keep it in view for the next four miles.
Then it stood again, near some bushes; I endeavoured to approach under
cover of these, but was again spotted, and the weary chase recommenced.
The country became more broken, and I lost sight of the brute for some
time, but eventually saw it lying down a thousand yards away. I
approached to a tree, whence I could see if it moved, and waited in the
hope that it would get stiff and allow me to come within certain
shooting-range. After waiting half an hour I commenced to stalk it,
crawling flat on my stomach; there was a convenient bush within fifty
yards of where it was lying, and I made for this. After half an hour's
desperate crawl through thorns in a blazing sun, I reached the
much-desired spot, and peering cautiously round the edge found, to my
infinite disgust, that it had moved on. I searched high and low, but
could find no trace, and soon lost the spoor which showed but faintly on
the grass. As a last effort I made a circuit of two miles, but returned
to where I had lost it without result. Then I sat down, waiting for my
boys to arrive with my water-bottle. The pace had been so hot that they
were completely lost, and I waited in vain. The fever from which I was
still suffering made my thirst intolerable, and I rose with the
intention of returning to camp. Then a bright idea struck me, and
taking the siren whistle which I carried on my belt, I blew a piercing
blast. A rustle! and the buck leapt out of some grass which I imagined
would not have covered a mouse, and dashed off. To throw down the
whistle was the work of a second, and a quick double-barrel brought the
little brute at last to grass. I was more than delighted, and realizing
that I had obtained a new species of antelope, as the eyes, lips, horns,
and hoofs showed no trace of albinoism, skinned it with loving care, and
carried it back to camp. Dr. Sclater of the Zoological Society has
kindly described it for me. I called it Thomasina's reedbuck
(_Cervicapra Thomasinae_) after the lady who is now my wife.
The following day I slew another good bull pookoo, which took more
killing than any buck I have ever shot. The pookoo's tenacity of life
is proverbial among those who are acquainted with this most beautiful
little antelope. They have a curious gland about 4 in. below the head
in the side of the neck.
The Wankonde play a curious little musical instrument resembling in
conception a zither: the strings (six or seven in number) are stretched
on a back of hollow reeds; it is held under the leg when sitting, and
fingered like the Maderia machette with the right hand, the strings
being stopped with the left. They also play on a bow with a gourd or
cocoanut-shell as a sounder, and a species of guitar.
Having received a note to the effect that porters had at last come in, I
returned to Karonga to prepare for my final march of two hundred and ten
miles west to Tanganyika.
On the way I stopped for a day with Mr. Fox, who was managing the
telegraph construction across the plateau. The line was just opened to
Karonga from Salisbury, and Mr. Mohun had put up the first telephone
seen on Lake Nyassa between Karonga and Mr. Fox's camp. The work of
construction up the west coast of Lake Nyassa had been attended with the
greatest possible difficulties from the precipitous and densely-wooded
nature of the country, and the pestilential climate. These had,
however, by superhuman efforts, been overcome in the stipulated time by
the handful of men engaged on the work. A wide track, straight as an
arrow, up hill, down dale, across abysmal chasms, and through swamps,
had been cleared, and iron posts set in iron shoes supported the wire.
No one at home can realize the stupendous difficulties that have been
overcome. But I from observation know, and take off my hat in awed
admiration of that gallant band who, quietly, relentlessly, and without
a murmur, have accomplished the seemingly impossible. It stands out in
bold relief as a colossal monument of what the Anglo-Saxon can do, and
will ever sigh to the African wind the greatness of that master mind
which, in spite of the fossilized apathy of the British Government, has
raised a British South Africa to be a dominant factor in the world's
history of the future. It was instructive to mark the characteristic
distinction between Mr. Rhodes' telegraph expedition and the expedition
of the King of the Belgians. On the one hand was an unassuming handful
of men (without a single armed man), whose very existence might easily
have been overlooked by the casual passer-by. Yet behind them lay many
hundreds of miles of perfected work which brought the far interior of
Africa within a minute of Cape Town; before them stretched an arrow-like
clearing to Tanganyika (two hundred miles long), waiting for the
transport service to bring poles and wire. Quiet men, rotten with fever,
were being carried to and fro--inspecting, measuring, and trenching.
Above their base floated a diminutive Union Jack; no pomp, no fuss, not
even a bugle; yet all worked like clock-work. On the other hand, a huge
camp thundering with the tramp of armed men, uninhabitable from the
perpetual blare of bugles, a very wilderness of flags. Gorgeous and
fussy Belgians strutting about in uniforms, screaming and gesticulating,
with a few sad-visaged Englishmen doing the work--piles and piles of
loads--and ever those bugles. It resembled the triumphant march of an
army through the land, and the cost must have been appalling. Yet
months after they had eventually arrived at Mtowa, nothing had been
accomplished. The petty jealousy of the local officials proved an
impenetrable barrier, and now if anything has been accomplished, the
wire has been merely slung on trees. According to the latest reports,
there had been trouble with the natives, and the whole expedition had
been broken up, with the loss of most of the plant. There is
undoubtedly a quiet something about the Anglo-Saxon that gets there
somehow.
Fever overcame me once more, and I was confined to my bed for several
days; but at last, on January 24th, I made a start, and marched to
Mpata, the first camping-place on the Stevenson Road. The Stevenson
Road is a clearing through the bush that covers the greater part of the
plateau, and barely deserves the title of road, although in some places
a few logs have been thrown across the streams, and the more swampy
portions have been trenched.
The second stage brings one to Mkongwes, about twenty-seven miles from
Karonga. Chumbu, the next halting-place, is fourteen miles further.
The country is very hilly, and the scenery not very attractive. At
intervals, intersecting the road, the telegraph clearing sweeps on in
its relentless line, looking like a gigantic ride, where one expects
every minute to see the white tail of a scared bunny or a gorgeous
cock-pheasant bowling along as though on wheels. But one looks in vain;
no sign of life breaks that monotonous line stretching away over the far
hills till the trees at the side merge together, and it is lost in the
far distant horizon.
A very long day's march brought us to Fort Hill, the frontier station of
Nyassaland, which is in charge of a few black police. It had been very
wet, as the rains had broken, and I was exceedingly thankful to take
cover in the substantial house which is in the centre of the stockade.
I had a bull-calf with me, and gave it in charge of one of my Askaris,
who retaliated in the usual annoying way of natives by coming and asking
for some string to lead it by. Asking for string is a common and
intangible form of insolence, as they make string from the bark of
several kinds of trees, very common all over the country. But this time
I scored. I had a large coil of Alpine rope weighing about 20 lbs. I
gave him this, and told him on pain of death not to cut it. Then he
said, "It did not matter, he would make some." But I was relentless.
"He had asked for string, and I never refused a reasonable request."
That youth never again asked for string. At Nyala the telegraph people
have built a substantial house, which is to be a telegraph station and
general depository of material; they have selected an admirable
position. A large blood-sucking fly made life rather a burden; they
settled so quietly that one never felt them till they had driven a
proboscis, like a red-hot bodkin, half an inch into one's neck or face.
Amazing downpours every morning added to the joys of life, and for
several days I had to live in wet clothes and sleep in wet blankets,
while it was almost impossible to start a fire. I had a sou'-wester and
an oilskin, but they were of no avail. The rain fell like a wave, and
with such force that it splashed up underneath, and one was soon
drenched to the neck by capillary attraction. Passing through Mpansa we
reached Ikawa on the 31st.
Ikawa is the first station of Northern Charterland, on the Tanganyika
Plateau. Mr. Mackinnon, the collector, had gone to the Chambesi
district to neutralize the political machinations of a fractious
missionary.
Nine miles further on is Fife, the A.L.C. station, and the oldest
settlement on the plateau. Mr. McCulloch, who has been in charge for
several years, tells some delightful stories about his exciting
experiences in the old days of Arab predominance. Two members of Lieut.
Schleufer's expedition, which was endeavouring to transport a steamer
for the German Government to Lake Tanganyika, were camped outside the
walls waiting for porters. They had some heavy loads with them on
carts, and had taken seven weeks to make the journey from Karonga. Fife
is the half-way house between Nyassa and Tanganyika. From the verandah
I looked out with longing eyes over the vast Awemba country that lies at
the foot of the plateau. The view was superb, and typical of Africa in
its misty uncanniness. Mr. McCulloch has planted splendid gardens, and
we revelled in green peas, new potatoes, cabbage, lettuce, and many
other European vegetables, all of which grow luxuriantly on these
altitudes. In the days of overcrowding not far distant there will be a
fine country for European settlement on the Tanganyika Plateau. There
is much fever at present, but I think most of it is brought from the low
countries. The nights were quite cold, and fires necessary for comfort.
Mr. McCulloch has a wonderful knowledge of the native; he is considered
as a chief by the large village close to the station, and is much
respected by the native chiefs for many miles round. I purchased some
beautiful wooden snuff-bottles from the Mambwe people, and some
extraordinary ear-plugs which are worn by the women in the lobe of the
ear; some of them were 2 in. in diameter.
The Anglo-German Boundary Commission had just completed its task, and
the new boundary enclosed many of the large labour centres in the German
sphere: some of the chiefs, however, availed themselves of the time
limit allowed by proclamation, and came across to British territory.
But the Germans, contrary to the terms of the agreement, had posted
native police to intercept and terrorize them into remaining. The
Germans did not behave very well over the boundary settlement, but
insisted on retaining a small strip of territory that fell to their
share, but which cut across the Stevenson Road, though they were offered
a handsome _quid pro quo_ elsewhere. However, the British collector set
to work at once, and in a few days took the road round the obstructing
strip.