and I could hear them gradually approaching across the plain. They met
about a mile from my camp, and after a round of hearty greetings,
settled down into silence. As the wind was in their direction, I
ordered all my boys up close to my tent and made two large fires. They
still remained silent, so I knew that they were near; but after waiting
some time I concluded that they did not mean business, and turned in. I
had only just crept inside my mosquito-curtain when the sentry called
out to me that they were in camp. I scrambled out, but was just too
late! They had calmly strolled past in the full light of the fire, and I
saw a tail disappear round the corner of a bush. Snatching up a blazing
log, we dashed out, but, of course, never saw them, as there was too
much bush; however, they were not in a hurry, and an occasional sniff
showed that they were still inspecting, but they would not show in the
firelight again, and, whenever I went out, sneaked off, till, getting
tired of the game, they strolled away grumbling across the plain, and
treated me to a farewell roar that will long linger in my ears as Savage
Africa's farewell!
For on the morrow my troubles ended. We were plodding wearily along,
wondering how to tide over the next four days, which I had estimated as
the time necessary to reach the Sobat, when I saw in the far distance a
curved pole swaying in the wind. For a long time it puzzled me; then I
realized that it must be the mast of a boat, but dared not believe it,
though certain that no palm-stem could swing to that angle. Presently I
saw figures moving to and fro, and then one in white cloth, and soon we
had evidently been noticed. A short council of war took place, and then
an unmistakable Soudanese soldier came out to meet me, carefully
inserting a cartridge in his rifle as he approached. Throwing my rifle
on to my left shoulder, with a conciliatory and pacific smile I advanced
with outstretched hand, and evidently convinced him that I was at least
harmless, for with a 3 ft. 6 grin he drew his cartridge and shook the
proffered hand with vigour. I learned that Captain Dunn, R.A.M.C., was
up the Zaraf for a few days' shooting, and that he was expected back in
camp in a few minutes.
I could scarcely believe that it was all over, that my troubles were
ended! Those four days, that I imagined still remained, had been a
nightmare to me. All my men were sick; the majority of them had to be
pushed along at the point of the spear, to prevent them from lying down
and giving up the struggle. There were no more hippo and very little
game: all our grain had long been exhausted, and but two pipefuls of
sour tobacco remained. And then, at a sudden bend of the river, all
this nightmare was dispelled! It was over! From being so long without
vegetables, my hands had begun to turn black, and the continual anxiety
of the last month, day and night, had told its tale on my nerves. With
what unspeakable content I sat down and waited for Dunn's arrival it
would be impossible to describe. I had not to wait long, for a few
minutes later Captain Dunn emerged from the bush. The following
conversation ensued:--
Captain Dunn: "How do you do?"
I: "Oh, very fit, thanks; how are you? Had any sport?"
Dunn: "Oh, pretty fair, but there is nothing much here. Have a drink?
You must be hungry; I'll hurry on lunch. Had any shooting? See any
elephant?"
Then we washed, lunched, discussed the war, and eventually Dunn asked
where the devil I had come from, saying that at first he had taken me
for another confounded Frenchman, and was trying to hunt up some French.
All this six hundred odd miles from anywhere in the uttermost end of the
earth--the Nile swamps. Verily we are a strange people. How De
Tonquedec, the Frenchman, laughed at the tale!
Then we dropped slowly down-stream in the boat, and in the light of the
myriad stars discussed the strange world into which the Father Nile was
slowly carrying me. A whirl of thoughts made sleep impossible, and as I
pondered over many things I thought long on the Fashoda incident. In
the course of a chequered career I have seen many unwholesome spots; but
for a God-forsaken, dry-sucked, fly-blown wilderness, commend me to the
Upper Nile; a desolation of desolations, an infernal region, a howling
waste of weed, mosquitoes, flies, and fever, backed by a groaning waste
of thorn and stones--waterless and waterlogged. I have passed through
it, and have now no fear for the hereafter. And for this choice spot
thousands of homes might have been wrecked, and the whole of
civilization rushed into a cockpit of mutual slaughter. Let me
recommend France to send the minister responsible for the Marchand
expedition for a short sojourn in the land: no fitter punishment could
be found. What a sensible idea it would be if ministers of rival
nations, foreseeing a dispute, were to buy in a large store of choice
wines and cigars, leave them at home, and decide to spend the time, till
the dispute should be amicably settled, in the bone of contention.
*CHAPTER XXII.*
*THE SOBAT TO CAIRO.*
I awoke in the morning to find the gyassa[#] moored off the base camp of
Major Peake's sudd-cutting expedition. Close by lay a trim,
smart-looking gun-boat. AH was bustle and stir on board, and it was
obvious that they were getting up steam. I drank in the sight,
momentarily expecting to see it fade before my eyes, and to find myself
once more wearily plodding through those maddening swamps. The
transition from ceaseless anxiety and hungry misery to full-bellied
content and tobacco-soothed repose had been so sudden; I was as a man
who, after long time staggering in the dark, is suddenly thrust into the
full glare of sunlight, and could hardly grasp that it was at last all
over. Nothing to do but sit and be carried along towards clean shirts,
collars, glasses, friends--all that makes life a thing of joy. How many
people realize what all these things mean? How many people have ever
caught the exquisite flavour of bread-and-butter? the restful luxury of
clean linen? the hiss of Schweppe's? One must munch hippo-meat alone,
save one's sole shirt from contact with water as from a pestilence lest
it fall to pieces, and drink brackish mud for days, to realize all this.
Sensations are but contrasts, and in the strong picture contrasts must
be strong. We all have our allotted portions of black and white paint;
how we lay it on is a question of temperament. One mixes the pigments
carefully and paints his life an even grey. Another dashes in the light
and shade with a palette-knife. Such an one is the wanderer in strange
climes.
[#] Nile sailing-boat.
Captain Hayes-Sadler, the Governor of Fashoda, was in command of the
gunboat, and kindly offered to take me down to Khartoum. They told me
that Captain Gage, Dr. Milne, Commandant Henri, Lieut. Bertrand, and
Lieut. de Tonquedec had all passed about four days before. De
Tonquedec, a most delightful and entertaining man, was the last
Frenchman to evacuate the Nile. He had been sent up to supplement the
occupation begun by Marchand, and had done by far the finest work of
all. No undertaking has ever been more absurdly overrated than
Marchand's expedition to Fashoda. It was seized upon by the military
party, and boomed to the echo as a set-off to the Dreyfusards. As a
matter of fact, he never touched an inch of new country, but merely
carried out successfully a very able bit of transport organization with
everything in his favour--sound lieutenants, unlimited funds, and one of
the best-equipped expeditions that ever set foot in Africa, supported by
excellent native troops in his Senegalese. All the labour of the country
was retained for him, and compulsion used where there was any difficulty
in obtaining carriers. Hundreds of miles of navigable water took his
goods almost to the Congo-Nile divide, and thence it was simply a
question of moving from post to post till the watershed was crossed, and
he could place his boats on the navigable waters of the Nile. The only
real difficulty, that of reoccupying the Bahr-el-Ghazal posts, had been
already accomplished by the Belgians, whom the French kicked out. Once
on the navigable Nile, they had but to go with the current till they
reached Fashoda; the waters of the Bahr-el-Ghazal and Lake No happening
to be comparatively free from sudd obstructions. They were strong
enough to defy resistance at the hands of the Shilluks, who have nothing
but ambatch canoes, and once entrenched at Fashoda they would have been
poor creatures if they could not have beaten off a handful of Dervishes.
As an able example of African transport it stands in the van of similar
undertakings, but as a daring or dangerous feat it does not stand in the
same class as Gage and Milne's descent of the Nile, or De Tonquedec's
performance. His duty was a most hazardous one, as, with nothing but a
handful of Senegalese and a sous-officier, he penetrated overland
through the terrible Dinkas to the Upper Nile, and occupied Gaba
Shambeh. Marchand is a world-word. When I arrived at Marseilles and
inquired after De Tonquedec, nobody had ever heard of him.
Fortune favoured me when I started on the descent of the Nile. I knew
that Khartoum had fallen, but nothing more. I had imagined that the
Redjaf Dervishes were still occupying Bohr and the Upper Nile, and that
the Khalifa was still at large on the Fashoda district of the Nile. But
shortly after I started the Dervishes fled from Bohr before the advance
of the Belgians, and while I was wearily plodding along, Sir Francis
Wingate killed the Khalifa, and annihilated the Dervish army at Om
Debrikat. The Abyssinians had finally retired from the Sobat, and by
this happy combination of luck I had a clear route, though I did not
know it, and my anxiety lest I should unexpectedly stroll into a Dervish
or Abyssinian camp was considerable. Captain C. G. Steward, R.A.,
D.S.O., was in command of the base camp, and was sadly fretting at
having had his orders to proceed to South Africa cancelled.
There were several gunboats employed on the sudd-cutting operations.
Many of the Dervish prisoners had been sent south for the work, and were
looking uncommonly well, which speaks volumes for the efficient
transport system. The method of procedure was as follows:--The sudd,
which at times is 30 ft. thick and sufficiently solid for the elephant
to pass over, was cut into large blocks. A wire hawser was then
attached, and the mass was pulled away by two steamers. When it floated
clear it was cut up, and allowed to drift away with the stream. Many of
these floating masses had accumulated opposite the base camp, and bade
fair to form another sudd obstruction. In places where a portion was
cut out, the water from the pressure caused by the pent-up river surged
forth like a wave, bringing up water-logged canoes, bloated crocodiles,
and various other unexpected apparitions. The fish rose in incredible
swarms to these breathing-places. At one place the men took off their
loose trousers, tied the ends, and baled out over four hundred large
fish in less than an hour. The work was so hard that no one had time to
get fever, and the health of the expedition had been excellent. After
several months of desperate toil, the undertaking is now happily
completed, and there is a clear riverway from Khartoum to Redjaf; and
Fort Berkeley, the outpost of the Uganda Protectorate, instead of being
nearly four months from Mombasa, is now within one month of Cairo. A
weekly service of steamers should effectually prevent the sudd from
re-forming. By judicious treatment, possibly on the lines that I have
suggested in a subsequent chapter, the waterway might be made permanent,
and its navigable facilities greatly improved. There is, undoubtedly,
as pointed out by Gordon, the great difficulty of fuel, but probably in
the near future oil will obviate this.
A few hours' steaming took us past the Sobat junction, where there is
now but a small post of Soudanese under a native officer, and to the
world-famed Fashoda. Here I handed over the first trans-continental
post-bag, which I had brought through with me, to Captain Hayes-Sadler,
who stamped the post-cards with the gorgeous red seal of Fashoda. Here,
too, I received the first letter that had reached me for eighteen
months, in which I learned that my oldest friend had fallen at Glencoe,
at the very beginning of the war--to wit, Lieut. John Taylor, of the
King's Royal Rifles. Curiously enough, the last letter that I had
received on leaving civilization had been from him. Verily Africa is an
accursed land. Many of the good friends whom I had met during our
journey have already gone, and again and again I hear of fresh gaps in
the chain.
I went and looked at the little French fort built of bricks that were
taken from the ruined buildings of Fashoda. It is a very insignificant
structure, and I should have been very sorry to be inside with a
seven-pounder playing on the fort. There are still a few pawpaw trees
planted by Marchand, the shrivelled fruit of which we took on board, and
utilized as vegetable marrows. The Rek or King of the Shilluks lives
near Fashoda; he is the descendant of a hundred kings, or something of
that kind. I am not sure that his pedigree does not go back to the time
of the Pharaohs. I had the pleasure of seeing his mop-headed Majesty
ride past, attended by numerous courtiers. The Shilluk villages are
about a mile away from the channel of the Nile, to avoid being flooded
during the rains. The Dervishes kidnapped many thousands of the flower
of their youth for military service. The Rek is a delightful old
gentleman, and presented Captain Hayes-Sadler with an order not
unconnected with crocodiles. The Shilluks are a most moral people, and
live contentedly under an ample code of laws admirably suited to their
social condition and mode of life. Any attempt to interfere with the
belief and customs of such a people seems unwise. In view of the
appalling misery and want at home, it is difficult to justify the large
sums of money spent in upsetting the, in many cases, admirable existing
state of society in Africa. Centuries have evolved a state of society
most suitable to the surroundings and conditions of life. Why try to
upset it? On the voyage down to Fashoda I saw many Shilluk fishermen
wading in the shallow water, and endeavouring to spear fish. The spear
used is of great length, and the pointed end is tied back to form a bow,
by which means the point is induced to run along the top of, instead of
sticking into, the mud. It seemed an unprofitable business, but, like
most natives, they appear quite hopeful. They train their hair into
gigantic mops, and dye it red with cow-dung. Many of the men have
splendid features, and are extremely handsome. They hunt the hippo with
great daring, pursuing the beasts in tiny ambatch canoes, which are
often broken up by the infuriated bulls. They plunge a barbed spearhead
into the skin, and then paddle ashore with the end of the attached rope;
every one lends a hand, and the struggling brute is eventually hauled
ashore and despatched.
North of Fashoda we saw many herds of waterbuck, hartebeeste
(_Senegalensis?_), and roan grazing on the flats which lie between the
marshy banks and the bush. One evening I was standing on deck, and
noticed ahead of the steamer an animal sitting on the top of the bank
watching us. As we passed alongside, it moved, and we saw that it was a
splendid leopard. It strolled away quite unconcernedly, watching us
round its shoulder, and slowly swishing its long tail to and fro; then
it went and sat under a tree, whence it lazily regarded us till we were
out of sight. At Djebel Ain we had to leave the gunboat, as the
extraordinarily low Nile prevented steamers from crossing the ford, and
we were forced to proceed to the next navigable stretch in a large
gyassa or native boat. Djebel Ain is the end of the northern telegraph
line, and I could at last wire and relieve the anxiety of my friends and
relations. It was just fourteen months since I had left the end of the
southern, or Mr. Rhodes's, section. Hayes-Sadler's Soudanese orderly,
who looked after me, was a most delightful old gentleman. He could not
quite understand me, and was continually demanding explanations of me:
"Whence comes he, this man?" "Is he a soldier?" Hayes-Sadler explained
that I was not, but was travelling for the pleasure of seeing the
country. "Ah! you are a strange people, you English Effendis: how comes
it that he wears not the moustache even as the other Effendis?" He was
informed that I was of a slightly different ginss (tribe) to the others,
and was quite satisfied at the explanation. After that he referred to
me as "the Great White Effendi from the South." "He is a strange man,
and verily comes from afar; yet I like that man--I look upon him as the
apple of my eye," he informed his master. He was a splendid fellow, and
I much enjoyed his polite and gentlemanly attentions after the dirty
creatures with whom I had so long been in contact.
At the northern end of the ford we found the steamer waiting for us, and
I first met Captain Gage and Dr. Milne, of whom I had heard so much. We
were a numerous and jolly party on board, and with the exception of a
morning's sand-grouse shooting, in the course of which eight guns bagged
something over one hundred and fifty brace in a couple of hours, we
arrived without further incident at Omdurman. Here we were bewildered
with true Egyptian Army hospitality, and our time was spent in wildly
flying from mess to mess.
The Sirdar gave a great dinner, at which he invited all the British and
Egyptian commanding officers to meet the "tourists" from the south. Our
simultaneous arrival was an extraordinary coincidence: Milne and Gage
from the east, De Tonquedec, Bertrand, and Henri from the west, I from
the south, and Hayes-Sadler from the north, and that in what was almost
the uttermost end of the earth. After the dinner there was a great
Soudanese dance; all the battalions broke up into their tribes and
danced their tribal dances by torchlight: the spectacle was most weird.
Sir Francis Wingate kindly asked me to stay with him at the Palace,
which is already nearly completed.
The Soudan railway soon carried us down to Wady Halfa, thence a steamer
to Assuan, and again the railway, and we once more stood in the roar of
multitudes at the station in Cairo. And now it is all over. A few
dangers avoided, a few difficulties overcome, many disappointments, many
discomforts, and those glorious days of my life are already dim in the
haze of the past. Here I stand, in the prosaic land of certainty and
respectability! But far, far away, on those Urema flats, where the
night-wind sighs to the grazing herds, my thoughts soar to the plaintive
wail of the fish-eagle, and my heart throbs in unison with the vast
sob-sob of the grandest of all created beasts, that mighty sound that is
the very spirit of the veld, the great untrammelled field of Nature, far
from all carking cares, pettiness, hypocrisy, and cant: where men may
stretch themselves in generous emulation, find their apportioned level,
and humbly worship at the great shrine of creation.
*CHAPTER XXIII.*
*THE TRANS-CONTINENTAL RAILWAY.*
Of the railway as far as Tanganyika I will say little, as I did not
follow the route that has been selected. Its main scheme is already
laid down.
But the route to be followed beyond the south end of Tanganyika is
another matter, and one that will need much discussion.
Mr. Rhodes told me that he intended to take it across from Ujiji to the
south end of the Victoria Nyanza, where presumably it would connect with
Uganda and the rail-head of the Mombasa railway at Ugowe Bay by
steamers. Thence it would pass through the Lake Rudolph district and
along the western base of the Abyssinian highlands to the Blue Nile.
The arguments for this route are wood-supply, the supposed wealth and
the supposed comparative salubrity of the countries traversed. Before
offering my suggestion it win be advisable to inquire into the aims and
objects of the Cape to Cairo railway. As far as I have seen, no
individual of those who furiously denounce or optimistically uphold the
project has ever grasped the real essential of such a connection; they
have either sneered at it as a wild dream, or concluded that it is
intended to run as an opposition means of transport to the ocean liners.
This, of course, it will never do, nor yet is it a wild dream. The
railway and the telegraph are to be the vertebra and spinal cord which
will direct, consolidate, and give life to the numerous systems that
will eventually connect the vast central highroad with the seas.
Building railways is a speculation, but one that up to date has proved
very satisfactory in Africa. There is a saying that "trade follows the
flag," but I think it would be more correct to say that "the flag
reluctantly follows trade," and I know that "trade hurries along in
front of the railway." The amount of small industries and unexpected
traffic that crop up on the advent of the railway is wonderful; I
suppose because there is no trade in virgin Africa strictly speaking,
and the line wakes it to life by opening up new possibilities and ideas
to the native.
Until the railway comes no one can judge of the capabilities of the
country; it lies dormant. The appalling transport question, the
inaccessibility, and the high cost of living weigh too heavily upon the
land. The magic talisman, gold, alone will lead men far from touch with
civilization.
But apart from all commercial considerations, on moral grounds alone the
railway or a through connection is an immediate necessity--in fine, a
duty inseparable from the responsibilities that we have assumed. Lord
Salisbury, in speaking of the Uganda railway, recognizes this when he
says: "That" (_i.e._ the completion of the railway) "means the
subjugation, and therefore the civilization, of the country. Nothing
but that railway could give us a grip of the country which would enable
us to take the responsibility of such a vast extent of territory."
No other system than the through connection would have the same
wide-reaching influence for the same expenditure; and the start that its
completion will give to radiating enterprise is incredible. It is but
the vertebral principle in Nature, and applies as surely to a continent
as to a worm.
The moral obligation, I repeat, is immediate and inseparable from our
bounden duty to develop the country, to "subjugate" and thereby
"civilize" the natives, and thus justify our assumption of rights in
Africa.
But I also feel convinced that commercially the enterprise is sound. It
is, of course, well-nigh impossible to form estimates of returns in a
country that is absolutely stagnant, reposing in abysmal depths of
barbarism; but the soil is there, the climate is there, the wild
luxuriance of Nature is there, the labour is there, and it needs but the
magic touch of the railway to weld them all into one producing whole.
It is experimental, I allow, but all enterprise is based on experiment.
We are too apt to take things as they are, and not to inquire into what
things were before, and by analogy what things similarly placed are
likely to become. We reason--"Africa is a waste; India is a garden; and
India will remain a garden, and Africa will remain a waste." The day is
not far distant when Africa will pour out her wealth of cattle, grain,
minerals, rubber, cotton, sugar, copra, spices, and a thousand other
products to a grateful world. And over and above this, will give a home
of comfort to millions of Europeans now suffocated by lack of
breathing-space, and afford a field of investment for the pent-up
millions of capital that are crowding returns down to an impossible
minimum. What better advertisement to draw these millions into
circulation than a railway opening up the unknown!