and the Congo Free State had been definitely settled, we were surprised
to find the Congo flag flying almost within shooting distance of the
fort; and on our sending over to buy fish, we found that the natives
across the border were not allowed to sell to us. Furthermore, the
Soudanese officer in charge told us that the trade in salt had almost
died out, as the Congo officials stopped their natives from bringing
ivory or food to barter. It is hard to understand why the hard-and-fast
line of the thirtieth parallel has been adhered to, when there is the
natural boundary of the Semliki. With that boundary there would be no
severance of the possessions of a chief, whereas now some of the land of
Kaihura is Belgian and some English, and an uneducated native cannot be
expected to serve two masters with different laws and widely-separated
methods of treating him.
In the fort we were also shown the bullet-marks of the rebel Congo
troops, who had attacked the fort because the Effendi refused to give up
the fugitive Belgian lieutenant who had taken refuge there. As Colonel
Lugard remarks in his _Rise of our East African Empire_, the fort stands
in a very strong position; but there was no Congo fort in his time.
We here enjoyed the shelter of a roof for the first time for many
months, despite the uncomfortable accessories of thousands of mosquitoes
and armies of rats.
The Effendi kindly revictualled our forces, as we were not allowed to
trade on our own account, and we gladly turned our backs on the bare
ridges of the fort, and the curiously-coloured salt lake, and started on
the eighty-mile march to Fort Gerry.
Elephant were reported as numerous throughout the country, and we looked
forward to a little sport as a change, more especially as an Askari had
shot a fine bull two days before, when he was out bathing in one of the
streams we had to cross. We started on an excellent cleared road,
myself in a machila, as the fever had left me too weak to walk, and
passing several volcanic lakes and extinct craters, camped close by a
large salt lake round the edge of which the spoor of many antelope was
visible, and in which a few hippo snorted and splashed.
Hundreds of reedbuck dashed wildly about the plains, and a few kobus and
waterbuck were seen in the distance, but, the grass being very short,
there was no chance of a stalk.
Every day we crossed one or more beautiful clear streams, running down
gullies from Mount Ruwenzori, the principal one being the Wimi; but
nowhere did we ever get more than a glimpse of the outlying shoulders of
the mountain, the higher peaks being always hidden in mist.
Elephant spoor was plentiful, but grass fires had cleared the whole of
the plain and driven all the game to the foot-hills or swamps, and day
after day our hopes of elephant were doomed to disappointment.
We met a Congo official--a Belgian--returning from a visit to Fort Gerry
to his station, Fort Mbeni on the Semliki, whence there is a rapid and
easy route or high-road to the Congo, of which the missionary, Mr.
Lloyd, has lately given a startling account in _The Graphic_.
On July 27th we camped within sight of the hills, where Kasagama reigns
by favour of the British Government, happy in the knowledge of the final
extinction of his old enemy, Kabbarega; and on the morrow we gathered
that we were nearing the end of our journey, by the amount of
"Amerikani"[#] and the quantity of crucifixes, the hall-marks of the
Protestant and Catholic sects. Next we saw a large church in a walled
enclosure, and two Peres Blancs came out to welcome us, and insist on
our trying their excellent Algerian wine. They were much interested on
hearing that we had come up from Tanganyika, and asked many questions
about the brethren of their order down south. Hospitably they
accompanied us a short way till we reached the boundaries of the Church
of England mission, whose territory they would not pass, except on
urgent business, to the Government station.
[#] White trade cloth.
Kasagama's hill, on the left, is a magnificent situation for a palace
(or fort), dominating as it does the missions nestling below it, and the
Boma on an adjacent hill. The king received us a day or two later under
the escort of the English missionaries.
The high-road led past the English mission, where extensive building
operations in brick were going on, down a steep hill and across a
primitive and dangerous bridge, built by the 11th Company of Soudanese,
under the late Colonel Sitwell, to keep them quiet during the mutiny,
and up a steep hill to the fort, where we were most hospitably received
by Mr. S. S. Bagge, one of the founders of the Uganda Protectorate, who
has spent nearly nine years in the country, having acquired the
pioneering mania in that hot-bed of pioneers, the Western States of
America. Captain J. A. Meldon was in charge of the troops. English
newspapers and books were most welcome, after being separated from them
for many months. Our own literature consisted of Whitaker, Shakespeare,
and Keats.
Two days after our arrival at Fort Gerry, our boys began to get
troublesome, as they had nothing to do, and pombe (native beer) was
plentiful; and one evening they raided the milk belonging to the
Soudanese officer, and beat his boys, for which the culprits were duly
admonished. Next day they all declared a desire to go home again to
Ujiji. We were anxious to take them on to Wadelai, there being no hopes
of getting local porters to go anywhere except to Kampala; and at
length, after much parleying, arranged that thirty of them should go to
Wadelai with me, and the rest to Kampala with Sharp, to lay in supplies
for the Nile journey, and then the whole lot could return by the
Victoria Nyanza to Mwanza in German territory, and thence home in
safety, _via_ Tabora.
Meantime stories of enormous tuskers were dinned into our ears, and
Captain Meldon having very kindly offered to accompany us, we determined
to go and have a fortnight's elephant-hunting, as a little relaxation
after our arduous march. On inquiry as to licences, we were horrified
to find a L25 licence necessary, which entitled the payer to kill two
elephant only. Permission might be obtained from the Commissioner of a
district to kill others at L12 each--truly a preposterous regulation, in
view of our subsequent experiences; however, having come so far, more or
less with the objective of elephant-shooting, we paid up like men, and
started off on the main road to Kampala.
The country, as usual in Toro, consisted of undulating hills intersected
by papyrus swamps, with a few banana plantations, very sparsely
populated, and showing no signs of game except some old elephant spoor.
The second march brought us to a very likely country, and the natives
said there were many elephant in the vicinity. Sharp went out, but did
not see any, the grass and thorn-scrub being almost impassable. Thence
a four hours' walk brought us to the top of a small range of hills, from
the crest of which I saw an elephant standing in the thick cane-brake on
the opposite slope. The main part of the caravan, with Sharp and
Meldon, was some distance in front, as the difficulty of carrying my
machila through the swamps made my progress slow. Praying that the wind
would hold, I was carried as near as the brake would allow, and after a
short walk, in the course of which I fell into an elephant-pit, found
the unsuspecting old gentleman under a tree, and killed him with a
single .303 bullet in the brain. He was a stupendous old bull, 11 ft. 6
in. at the shoulder, with a 64-in. foot (dry), and his teeth, 5 ft. 10
and 6 ft. 2, weighed 86 and 85 lbs. This success filled the others with
envy, and a native coming in during lunch with news of a herd of forty,
not very far off, Meldon and Sharp rushed off, only to return at sundown
hot and tired, having hit and lost a decent bull, while I had gone out
to inspect an old gentleman who came and waved his ears at me from a
neighbouring hill, but which I spared, not being satisfied with his
ivories.
Leaving a few boys to bring the ivory and one foot, we trekked early
next day to the ridge overlooking the river, passing fresh spoor and
elephant tracks almost every minute, and, while looking for a likely
camping-ground, saw a small herd of elephant in the valley. Sharp
immediately went in pursuit, and unfortunately for him the Soudanese
officer followed, and by cutting the line of elephant, gave the leaders
the wind, and thus spoilt an excellent chance. From our camp on the
hill we had a splendid view of ten miles or so of the Msisi valley and
the hills opposite, and all day long, elephant, singly, in small herds,
and, eventually in the afternoon, in large herds of two hundred or more,
perambulated up and down, giving us the most magnificent chance of
making their acquaintance.
Sharp returned at lunch, hot and miserable, having shot a cow
elephant--the grass being so high that it was impossible to judge
beforehand what he fired at. The whole of the morning we heard shots
from the far side of the river fired by Waganda or Wanyoro hunters, and
presently, in a great cloud of dust, a herd of at least a hundred
elephant crossed the river and wandered towards our camp. It was a most
impressive sight, as they swept the long grass down in front of them as
flat as if a steam-roller had passed over it. They stopped for a time
about half a mile below us, blowing water and dust over their backs,
while we tried to pick out the biggest bull with our glasses. We must
have seen a thousand to fifteen hundred elephant that day, and heard
thirty or forty shots from native guns across the Msisi.
Next day there wasn't an elephant in sight, but we could hear the
natives banging away up-river, and as the elephant near camp began to
smell we trekked up the valley. Here the downtrodden grass showed that
the big herd had moved off south.
Having exceeded our time-limit, we decided to return to Fort Gerry and
start for the north. Taking all the ivory into Fort Gerry for
registration, I left Sharp on the road with a few boys to hunt,
intending to make the necessary arrangements at the station, and then to
send out the boys to him for the march to Kampala; but the evening of my
return was celebrated by a pombe revel amongst my boys, and when I went
down to see what the noise was about, I was attacked by twenty or thirty
of them with spears, and was obliged to fire my revolver at the
ringleader. This scared them, and the whole hundred broke out of camp,
scattering the Soudanese guards, who were supposed to keep them in
order. Next day all the boys came in a body and demanded to be sent
home; so, to avoid trouble, we rounded them by strategy into a
cattle-kraal, and put a strong guard over them; and after giving them
posho (cloth to buy food), and obtaining a guard from Kasagama to see
them out of the country, I packed them off to Katwe. Sharp arrived next
day, having done the fifty miles in two marches. Ten of our boys were
in chain-gang for behaving badly during our absence, and these and
Sharp's lot I persuaded to go with me to Wadelai, and thence by
high-road to Kampala, and by Victoria Nyanza back to Tabora and Ujiji.
Out of our fourteen calves two alone had survived, and we had been
obliged to kill two cows, as they could not travel further. Six cows we
exchanged with Kasagama for a tusk of 138 lbs., and six others I sold
for 180 r., giving the other cow and calf to Mr. Bagge. During our
absence elephant-hunting, four of King Kasagama's cows died, so I
rescinded the bargain, and gave two of my tusks and a present of cloth
for the big one, and handed the surviving cattle over to Mr. Bagge.
Curiously enough, the six I sold to the Soudanese Effendi were still
well, while Mr. Bagge's cow and calf had both died. Too good food and
too much time to eat it, after a march of two hundred and fifty miles,
had evidently overpowered them.
At this stage of my journey, Mr. Sharp, to my great regret, was forced
by the ties of urgent business to return home. The Nile was such an
uncertain quantity that he was unable to risk the possibility of being
buried in the wilds for another two years. He therefore marched through
Toro and Uganda to the Mombasa rail-head, and took passage to England
_via_ the Red Sea.
*CHAPTER XV.*
*TORO TO MBOGA.*
Leaving Fort Gerry and all its hospitalities on August 28th, I skirted
along the northern spur of Ruwenzori, passing between the little
volcanic lakes Vijongo, and after three hours' walking, arrived at the
edge of the first escarpment. Here there is a sheer drop of 1,500 ft.
from the undulating table-land of Toro proper to the scrub-clad terrace
about eight miles wide, which in its turn overlooks the Semliki valley,
a further drop of 500 ft. From the edge of the first escarpment the
view is truly magnificent; to the south looms the mighty bulk of
Ruwenzori, a purple mass, peak piled upon peak, black-streaked with
forest, scored with ravine, and ever mounting till her castellated crags
shoot their gleaming tips far into the violet heavens. But it is only
for a brief hour at sunset or sunrise: then again the mists swirl up her
thousand gorges, again the storm-cloud lowers and broods grumbling round
her virgin snows as though jealous of the future--a future of Cook's
tours, funicular railways, personally-conducted ascents (with a sermon
and ginger-beer thrown in). Well! thank God I have seen her first--seen
her as she has stood for countless ages, wrapped in impenetrable
mystery, undesecrated by human tread since the awful travail that gave
her birth. "The Mountains of the Moon"--the very name breathes mystery
and romance, and fitly have romance and the myths of the ancients played
round her crest, for is she not part mother of the Nile? Alas! even as
we gaze she fades away, a murky glow lights up the evening sky, again
she starts into bold relief, 'tis her last farewell! The mists eddy
round those frowning crags, creeping here, drifting there, and the
curtain drops, hiding all but the great black base. Such is Ruwenzori,
when she deigns to show herself; and only when there is rain in the air
is she thus condescending.
Scarcely less striking is the outlook to the north. Deep shade is
already on the terrific slope at our feet, while the setting sun still
lights up the vast basin of the Semliki and the Albert Lake. We seem to
be standing on the brink of a new world, ourselves in shade cast by the
western spur, and the eye wanders on over sunlit plain picked out with
silver streaks, where in places we catch a glimpse of the Semliki, and
on till the lake lies gleaming like a sea of quicksilver, and yet on and
on, ever-fading steel-blue to grey, till we can just see the black
outlines of the hills against the blue-green sky, flecked with the gauzy
pink of the after-glow. Then like a flash all is grey, for we are very
near the equator, and we turn in to "kuku"[#] stew and the luxury of new
potatoes and tomatoes. Those kukus! They are like Sinbad's old man of
the sea, you cannot shake them off, for they are really indispensable.
Their only resemblance to their English namesake is in name, for neither
are they fine birds nor do they fly; nor, if they did fly, would they
confine their vocal efforts to the period of their flight, but would, I
am sure, still retain that inimitable faculty of producing at all, and
more especially unseasonable, times, the most startling and
by-no-means-(not-even-by-death)-repressible cries that have justly made
them so beloved of African travellers. As I have had so many
opportunities of observing the African variety of this world-wide
domestic nuisance, less favoured observers may find a few remarks not
out of place.
[#] _Kuku_: native word for fowl.
First, they are essentially gregarious. I have often seen large flocks
collecting on any strange piece of clothing or blanket, especially if
such blanket be placed out to dry after rain.
Secondly, they are capable of feeling and showing great affection for
man. In fact, the united efforts of three servants have often failed to
prevent them coming into my tent during the heat of the day, and, just
out of respect, leaving a few superfluous inhabitants behind.
Thirdly, like the nightingale, they sing at night, taking especial
delight in those ditties that have a good, full chorus.
Fourthly, they never lay fresh eggs--only eggs that have qualified for
the seventh heaven. Presumably, as the native likes a good, full egg,
it is the old tale of the survival of the fittest, and the hen who can
lay a real Blondin has been spared. If so, this must dislodge all
geological estimates of the date of the creation, as nothing short of
incalculable ages could have brought the breed to its present state of
perfection. For a long time I considered this elegant bird exempt from
the natural process of decay, as no reasonable period after decease
produced any modification in its adamantine structure, but a certain
incident not unconnected with soup dispelled this excusable illusion.
And lastly, but not leastly, this diabolical fowl, although it can hang
head downwards in a temperature of 140 deg. for many hours without
showing any signs of inconvenience other than a slightly intensified
complexion, and although it greets with contumely blows inflicted with
the various missiles to be found at a moment's notice in an average
tent, yet, should it be left with natives other than its rightful owner
for one short hour, it is so overcome with modesty that it reverts
rapidly and without perceptible residue into its original invisible
components.
The extent to which the kuku enters into one's very existence in Africa
is, I feel sure, a sufficient excuse for this digression. In fact, I
believe that, were it not for the counter-irritation produced by the
camp goats, I should have "kuku" on the brain.
Having successfully wrestled with the athletic cause of this digression,
and unsuccessfully with a prehistoric gun that a neighbouring chief
brought me for medical treatment, and dreamt that a rooster with 10 ft.
tusks was dancing the double shuffle on my chest, I descended into the
valley, and after two hours' walking reached the Semliki, a fine river,
here sixty to seventy yards wide, with a current of about five miles an
hour. When I had, with the greatest difficulty, wedged myself in a very
long, very unstable, and appallingly leaky piece of firewood (called by
courtesy a canoe), and had with still greater difficulty dissuaded
fifteen gentlemen from risking the voyage in my company, in the lucid
intervals of the amazement with which I viewed the frantic efforts of my
Charon (for such he was like to prove) to keep the stick's head
up-stream, I gathered from a benevolent philanthropist on shore that a
woman had been taken that morning by a crocodile from the very spot
where we came to land, and that on no account must I permit my boys to
go to the water's edge, as the crocodiles were very numerous and very
daring. However, suitably cheered by this information, and in defiance
of all such paltry laws of nature as gravity, we eventually did succeed
in landing safely on the other side; how or why I cannot say, as only
the two ends of the canoe were in the water, the middle, where I sat,
being slightly raised above the surface. I suppose the whole concern
had warped. Whatever the cause, I did not fancy trusting my baggage in
her, so I sent up the river, and after much yelling and more delay,
another more serviceable concern was produced. Having fixed on a place
for my tent, I left the boys to attend to the passage of my belongings,
and went out in search of dinner.
The plain, which here is about six miles wide, is covered with short
grass and dotted with clumps of euphorbia and thorn-bush, and is the
home of countless reedbuck and herds of Uganda kob. During the rains it
is the playground of troops of elephant and of the few survivors of the
teeming herds of buffalo that formerly roamed over all this country. I
had no difficulty in bringing two bucks to grass, as the country offered
magnificent stalking-ground, and the meat made a very agreeable change
after the everlasting mutton. The Uganda kob (_Cobus Thomasi_) very
closely resembles the pookoo (_Cobus Vardoni_), though its coat, which
is of a beautiful reddish colour, is less foxy and not so long in the
hair as that of the pookoo. They both have the regular gait of the
waterbuck, that so forcibly reminds one of our own red deer. But
whereas the pookoo never seems to run in herds of more than twenty or
thirty, I have seen as many as three hundred Thomasi together. The
leading buck of this herd, which I shot, had horns 20 in. in length.
Here, as elsewhere, I was much impressed by the two different types of
native, the sharp, intelligent, almost delicate features and the lithe
limbs of the aristocrats (of Galla origin) contrasting very forcibly
with the coarse, squat, ape-like appearance of the rabble. Some of the
lower class have really no ostensible claims to being human, beyond the
ability to produce fire. Covering even of the most rudimentary
description is totally ignored by both sexes. Leaving the Semliki, we
travelled west to the hills of Mboga, and shortly left the plain below,
rising into a country of miniature canons, intersected by numerous
ravines full of elephant-grass. Here we camped and sent out scouts in
all directions to search for njojo (the local name for elephant). I had
just made myself comfortable when news was brought of elephant to the
south, so I set off without delay, only to find a herd of small cows.
On my return to camp my boys told me that there was an elephant quite
close, and pointed him out, standing under a tree in the middle of the
elephant-grass in the ravine at our feet. As the sun was very hot, I
concluded that he was likely to stop where he was, and setting a boy on
an ant-hill to watch him, I sat down to lunch. He did stop where he was
till I had finished lunch, and then moved on, and as it was useless to
go into the grass, 15 to 25 ft. high, without a definite landmark such
as the tree would have proved, I was fain to dodge about, watching him,
when I could get an occasional glimpse, and to wait for another chance.
Several times I lost sight of him altogether, and then again would see
an ear. At last, as he appeared to be coming near the stream, which here
ran close underneath the bank on which I was standing, I went down
through the thorns and grass and waited, but in vain. Again I mounted
the bank, but could see no signs of him till I was turning campwards in
despair, when my boy saw the grass move, and this time quite close to
the stream. Down we scrambled once more and stood in the bed of the
stream listening. Then the crack of a twig and the waving of the tops
of the grass showed that he was coming, and he glided past a slight gap
in the thicket like some spectre, but I could not get a shot, although
within twenty yards. I never can understand how they manage to glide
through the most tangled jungles almost without sound unless they are
alarmed, when it seems as if all hell were loosed. I followed quickly
down the stream, the grass now completely hiding him, and suddenly came
on him drinking in a small mud-hole, at about fifteen yards distance.
He gave me a half side-shot, and I fired at his head, giving him a
second as he swung round. Down he came like an avalanche, and lay
thrashing the reeds with his trunk. Fearing that he might get up again,
I approached to give him the _coup de grace_. I was already within six
yards, but still unable to see him, when a cold puff on the back of my
neck gave me warning of a chance in the wind. I stepped back as he
struggled to his feet, and his great trunk came quivering forward within
two yards of my face. Again the wind steadied, and as I stood
motionless as a rock, he failed to see me, swung round, and made off.
Three shots I poured into him, then waited, sick at heart, listening to
the crash-crash as he went away, till again I heard that welcome roar of
rending tree and rush. He was down: a long gurgle and a sob, and all
was over. Although a small elephant, he carried beautiful teeth, 7 ft.
9 in. and 7 ft. (tip broken), and weighing 72 lbs. and 69 lbs.