“Mama, the Wasambye!”—The fight in the Ruiki—The lost found—Dangerous
disobedience—In the nick of time—A savage captive—Music hath
charms—In the haunts of Nature—A town of one street—Deserted
villages—Organising a hospital—An island wasted by lightning—“The
people of the filed teeth”—Primitive salt-making—Hostages
captured—At close quarters—Raining arrows—“Bo-bo, bo-bo, bo-bo-o-o-
oh!”—A desperate affair and opportune reinforcements—Cutting the
canoes adrift—Tippu-Tib deserts me—My appeal to the “sea-
children”—Christmas Day among the cannibals—“Victory or death!”
_Nov. 21._—We had hoped to pass our first day in the Wenya land in
kindly interchange of gifts, and engaging the wild hearts of the natives
by ostentatious liberality. But lo! when we searched in the morning for
the aborigines they were gone!
Many a village stood in the neighbourhood of the main landing, embowered
in the thick shade of tamarind and bombax, teak, iron-wood, and elais
palm, but the inhabitants were fled! Each village street had its two
rows of bleached trophies of eaten humanity, with an attempt at a
ghastly decoration similar to “rockery.” The canoes were all left at the
landing-place; the fruit of the banana and the plantain hung on the
stalks, and the crimson palm-nuts swayed in clusters above our heads,
but word was given to our people that nothing should be touched on
penalty of fearful punishment.
It was absolutely necessary that our introduction to the Wenya tribe
should be heralded by peaceful intercourse. We therefore rested, and
sent people round about with shells to purchase food for their
respective messes. Only Kachéché and Murabo, one of the boat-boys,
succeeded in reaching an inhabited village, but no sooner were they seen
than they had to run for their lives back to camp.
Leaving everything untouched, we departed from this first village of the
Wenya. My boat floated down river with thirty-six people on board
according to agreement, with Frank, Tippu-Tib, and the land party
following the riverbank, until we should arrive at a village where we
might purchase food.
From the villages below, at least from many, long before we had floated
abreast of them, rang out the strange war-cries, “Ooh-hu-hu! Ooh-hu-hu!”
and the natives decamped into the bush, leaving everything they
possessed _in situ_. This was only to lure us to our destruction, for
had we been tempted to capture their goats and black pigs, they would no
doubt have rushed from the bushes on the unwary. We, however, were not
to be thus tempted to felony and our destruction, and quietly floated
down past them.
We then came abreast of a forest, uninhabited, and about three miles in
length, and after that sighted a plantation of bananas. We could see the
tops of the low gable-roofed houses, but none of the natives descried us
until we were within a hundred yards of a large and wealthy village.
Then a little child, coming down the high banks to fetch water, suddenly
lifting her head, saw us close to the landing, and screamed out, “Mama,
the Wasambye! the Wasambye are coming!”
At the name, which seemed to be a dreaded one—no doubt because of
Mtagamoyo and his uncircumcised Wanyamwezi—the people, who, it seemed,
were holding a market, scattered immediately, the women screaming,
“Wasambye! Wasambye!” and the banana stalk and bushes shaking violently,
as everybody in a panic flew into the jungle, like a herd of buffaloes
stung to frenzy by a fly pest. By the time we had glided down a few
paces beyond the landing there was a deathly silence.
We passed by three or four other villages, but the inhabitants simply
responded to our attempts at intercourse by protruding their heads from
the bushes and shouting “Ooh-hu-hu! Ooh-hu-hu! Ooh-hu-hu!”
At 3 P.M. we came to the Ruiki river, which at the mouth was about 100
yards wide, a black and sluggish stream, with an average depth of about
twelve feet. As the land division would be unable to cross this stream
without the aid of a boat, we camped at a point between the right bank
and the left bank of the Livingstone, in east longitude 25° 33′ and
south latitude 3° 26′.
_Nov. 23._—We halted on the 23rd of November, awaiting the arrival of
the land division, and meanwhile built a strong camp. We saw several
forms on the opposite side of the Ruiki, in the village of chief
Kasongo, but they would not deign to answer us, though our interpreter
made frequent attempts to induce them to converse. Our party was only
thirty-six in number, including myself, and we had but a few bananas,
which had been obtained at Kampunzu. Before we could hope to purchase
anything from the natives an intercourse of some kind had to be opened.
But the aborigines, for some reason, persisted in their distrustful
reserve. However, we waited patiently for the land force until sunset,
and all night maintained a strict watch lest our boat should be stolen.
_Nov. 24th._—Early on the 24th, no news having as yet arrived of our
friends, I manned the boat and rowed some ten miles up the Ruiki river,
hoping to find them encamped on the bank waiting for us. The general
course of the river, though very winding, was from south-west to north-
east. A few miles above its mouth it is filled with snags, and becomes
narrow, crooked, and swift, and of an inky colour, from a particular
tree, whose branches drop in dense masses into the stream.
About 2 P.M. we began to return, and, after rowing hard for about an
hour and a half, were approaching our lonely camp when we heard guns
being fired rapidly. Unless as a measure of defence there could be no
earthly reason why the men in the camp should fire their guns. We
therefore urged the crew to full speed, and in a short time were
astonished to see the mouth of the Ruiki blocked with canoes filled with
savages, launching spears and shooting arrows.
With a loud shout we dashed down the last straight reach of the Ruiki,
which attracted the attention of the savages, who immediately turned and
fled down stream, uttering in harmonious but weird concord their strange
war-cries.
After first learning that no one was wounded, though there were several
sheaves of iron-headed and wooden spears, besides reed arrows, in the
camp, we inquired the cause of the attack, and heard with astonishment
that the people of Kasongo’s had signalled to all the neighbouring
villages that the “Nwema” (white chief) was gone away, and had invited
them to arm and man their canoes to get meat before he should return.
About thirty canoes, manned by a great number of savages, had entered
the Ruiki, and, without listening to warning, had persisted in advancing
on the camp, until fired upon. They had been engaged only a few minutes
before I appeared.
Billali, the youth in charge of the heavy rifle, and my factotum on
hunting excursions, had shot a man, who lay dead in the stream. When
asked how he dared to use my guns to shoot people, he replied with
alarm, “I could not help it, sir, indeed I could not. If I had waited
but a little minute, he would have killed me, for he was aiming with his
spear only a few feet off!”
[Illustration: WAR HATCHET OF UKUSU.]
[Illustration: STOOL OF UKUSU.]
Night came, but with it no tidings of the land party. We listened all
through the dark hours for the sound of signal gun-shots, but none
cheered us. In the early morning I despatched Uledi, the coxswain, and
five of the younger boatmen, through the jungles, with a caution to
observe the villages, and by no means to risk an unequal contest with
people who would dog them through the bushes like leopards. Uledi, with
a calm smile, bade me rest assured: he was confident he would soon find
them. They set out, leaving us alone to indulge in gloomy thoughts.
At 4 P.M. we heard the roar of a musket-shot through the forest, and
soon Uledi emerged from the jungle behind us, his face all aglow with
triumph, “They are coming, master, close by,” he said.
True enough, the advance-guard appeared in a few seconds, and presently
the column, weary, haggard, sick and low spirited. The people had been
wandering. Having found a road, they followed it, till they came upon a
tribe, who attacked them with arrows, and killed three of them. They
retaliated, and the advance-guard captured one of the assailants, and
asked what tribe he belonged to. “The Bakusu,” he had said, “and the
great river is a long way east of you.”
They compelled him to show the way, and after some fifteen hours’
marching from the place of the fight, they had met with gallant Uledi
and his scouting party, and had hurried after him.
Within four hours the boat had transported the entire party to the left
bank of the Ruiki. I was here compelled to relax the rigour of the
command that no one should appropriate food without payment, for the
suffering of the people was excessive.
_Nov. 26._—On the 26th, we floated down river to Nakanpemba, the land
division on this day keeping close to the river, and though it was
buried frequently in profound depths of jungle, we were able to
communicate with it occasionally by means of drum-taps.
[Illustration: VIEW BETWEEN THE RUIKI AND NAKANPEMBA.]
The river had widened gradually to 1700 yards, and was studded with
large tree-clad islands, both banks presenting dense masses of tall
woods and undergrowth.
Not a soul had been seen in any of the villages passed through; now and
then we heard screams of “Wasambye! Wasambye!” and sometimes we heard
voices crying out something about Bwana Muhala, or Mtagamoyo, the
notorious land-pirate and kidnapper. Nakanpemba possessed also its
dreadful relics, arranged in ghastly lines along the streets—relics of
many a feast, as Professor Huxley has now taught us, on dead humanity.
The march through the jungles and forests, the scant fare, fatigue, and
consequent suffering, resulted in sickness. Smallpox and dysentery
attacked the land division. Thorns had also penetrated the feet and
wounded the legs of many of the people, until dreadful ulcers had been
formed, disabling them from travel. In the course of two days’ journey
we found six abandoned canoes, which, though unsound, we appropriated
and repaired, and, lashing them together, formed a floating hospital.
Four miles below Nakanpemba, as we were gliding down at the rate of 1½
knot per hour, we heard the dull murmur of rapids, and from the opposite
bank eight canoes were seen to dash swiftly down river, disappearing
most mysteriously from view. There being no necessity for us to seek
acquaintance with people who appeared to think it undesirable, we did
not attempt to disturb them, but, clinging to the left bank, cautiously
approached the rapids of Ukassa. These were caused by a ledge of
greenish shale, mixed with iron-stone and pudding rock, projecting from
the Ukassa hills on the right bank.
The hospital was warned in-shore, while I dropped down as near as
possible to the rapids and there landed.
The land division was requested to encamp for the day abreast the rapids
while, selecting ten stout young fellows, in addition to the boat’s
crew, I proceeded to explore along the river; but before departing, I
gave the strictest orders to Frank and Manwa Sera that upon no account
should any one be permitted to move from camp until I returned.
The rapids were parted by a couple of long rocky islets running parallel
and separated from each other and the left bank by two narrow streams,
which descended into a quiet, creek-like portion of the river after a
fall of 10 feet within half a mile, but on the eastern side the river
was of a breadth of 800 yards, and descended with a furious whirl for
the distance of a mile and a half, where it was joined by the quiet
flowing creek on the left or western side.
We continued our inspection of the shore and river for about two miles,
where we very nearly fell into an ambuscade. In a little creek, hidden
by high overhanging banks, densely clothed, were some forty or fifty
small canoes, the crews all seated, silent, and watching the river. We
instantly retreated without disturbing their watchful attitude, and
hurried to camp.
On arriving at the boat I was alarmed at hearing that Frank had
permitted Manwa Sera, the chief, and five others, to detach two of the
hospital canoes, and to descend the great rapids. As this was a suicidal
act, I felt my blood run cold, and then recollecting the ambuscade in
the creek, I lost no time in selecting fifty men and retracing our
steps.
When we reached the creek, we ascertained it to be empty. I then offered
high rewards to the first scout who sighted the Wangwana, Uledi and
Shumari, his brother, gave wild yells, and dashed forward like antelopes
through the jungle, Saywa (their cousin) and Murabo hard after them.
With startling echoes some gun-shots soon rang through the forest. Away
we tore through the jungle in the direction of the sounds. We came in
sight of the river, and heard the rifles close to us. In mid-stream were
the five Wangwana riding on the keels of the upset canoes, attacked by
half-a-dozen native canoes. Uledi and his comrades had without
hesitation opened fire upon them, and thus saved the doomed men. We soon
had the gratification of receiving them on shore, but four Snider rifles
were lost. The party, it appeared, had been swept into a whirlpool,
drawn down, and ejected out of it several feet below the dreadful whirl.
This disobedience to orders, which had entailed on me such a loss of
valuable rifles, when I was already so weakly armed, on themselves such
a narrow escape, besides bringing us into collision with the natives,
was punished by well-merited reproaches—so keenly felt moreover that
Manwa Sera proceeded to Tippu-Tib’s camp, and sent word to me that he
would not serve me any longer, I laughed, and returned word to him that
I was sure he would. To Frank I solemnly protested against such breach
of duty, as life or death now depended on the faithful execution of
instructions.
Tippu-Tib and the Arabs advanced to me for a shauri. They wished to know
whether I would not now abandon the project of continuing down the
river—now that things appeared so gloomy, with rapids before us, natives
hostile, cannibalism rampant, small-pox raging, people dispirited, and
Manwa Sera sulky. “What prospects?” they asked, “lie before us but
terrors, and fatal collapse and ruin? Better turn back in time.” I told
them to be resigned until the morning. They returned to their camp,
which was about half a mile from the vicinity of the rapids.
_Nov. 27._—Early next day the Wangwana were mustered. They lifted the
boat out of the water above their heads, and cautiously conveyed her in
about an hour below the rapids, and launched her on the quiet waters of
the creek. Then a messenger was despatched to order Safeni to push the
four remaining canoes into the rapids. Within an hour the rapids of
Ukassa had been passed.
As there was abundance of time yet, it being only three in the
afternoon, and I burned to know whether any more falls were below the
rocky islets, I started down river with twenty men in the four canoes to
explore. In about an hour we came to exceedingly swift rough water, much
whirling and eddying, but no rapids; then, satisfied that there was no
immediate prospect of meeting impediments to navigation, we started on
our return, and arrived at camp at sunset, after an exceedingly eventful
day.
_Nov. 29._—On the 29th we moved down river four miles to Mburri, on the
left bank, which is opposite Vinarunga, which is a large settlement of
Wenya villages on the right bank. From our camp compass bearings showed
Ukassa or Ussi Hills on right bank to be south-south-west (magnetic).
Just as we were retiring for the night, a canoe came down river, and
cautiously made its way towards the boat. Shumari, the young brother of
Uledi, who was on guard, waited until it was well within shore, and then
suddenly seized the canoe-man, calling for assistance on the ever-ready
boat’s crew. The native was secured, and carried in before me; and when
lights were brought we saw he was an old man bent almost double with
age. His face was one of the most vicious my memory can recall. I
presented him with about a dozen cowries, which he snatched from me as a
surly dog might bite at a piece of meat from a stranger’s hand. He was a
true savage, hardened by wildness, and too old to learn. We put him back
into his canoe, and set him adrift to find his way home.
An hour later, another stranger was found in the camp. He was also
caught and brought to me. He was a lad of sixteen or seventeen years of
age, a facsimile in miniature of the older savage. I smiled kindly, and
conversed softly. I presented him with a string of bright red beads, and
filled one of his hands with shells, and then I had him asked some
questions. He replied to five, when he said he was tired, and would
answer no more. We set a guard over him for the night, and in the
morning permitted him to depart. I confessed my impotence to charm the
savage soul.
As we were about to leave camp, three canoes advanced towards us from
the Ukassa side of the river. Through our interpreters we spoke to them
mildly, requested to know what offence we had committed, or whom we had
harmed, to inspire them with such mortal hatred of strangers. Would they
not make a bond of friendship with us? We had beads, cloth, brass,
copper, iron, with which to buy food, goats, bananas, corn.
They listened attentively, and nodded their heads in approval. They
asked if we would beat our drum for their amusement. Kadu, one of
Mtesa’s pages, who was an expert at the art, was called and commanded to
entertain them after the best Kiganda fashion. Kadu seized his drum-
sticks and drum, and after a few preliminary taps dashed out a volume of
sound that must have been listened to with unbounded admiration by many
hundreds of savages crouching in the woods.
“Ah,” said the poor naked, mop-headed wretches, “it is delightful!” and
they clapped their hands gleefully—and paddled away rapidly down river,
steering for the right bank.
_Nov. 30._—On the 30th the journey was resumed. The river ran with sharp
bends, with many dangerous whirls, and broad patches of foam on its
face, and was narrow, not above eight hundred yards in width, for a
distance of three miles and a half, when it suddenly widened to 1700
yards. Two fine wooded islands stood in mid-stream. On the northern side
of a little tributary we camped at the market-place[ of Usako Ngongo,
Ukassa Hills bearing south-south-west. The southern end of the largest
of the two islands, Nionga, bore east by north from camp.
These market-places on the banks of the Livingstone, at intervals of
three or four miles, are central resorts of the aborigines from either
bank, and considered as neutral ground, which no chief may claim, nor
any individual assert claims or tribute for its use. Many of them are
wide grassy spaces under the shade of mighty spreading trees, affording
admirable river scenes for an artist. In the background is the deeply
black forest, apparently impenetrable in its density; here and there a
taller giant, having released itself from acquaintance and familiarity,
overlooks its neighbours. Its branches are favoured by the white-
collared eagle and the screaming ibis. Here and there rise the feathery
and graceful fronds of the elais palm. In the foreground flows the broad
brown river.
[Illustration: STEW-POT OF THE WAHIKA.]
In the morning, on market days, the grassy plots are thronged. From the
depths of the forest, and from isolated clearings, from lonely islands,
and from the open country of the Bakusu, come together the aborigines
with their baskets of cassava, their mats of palm-fibre and sedge, their
gourds of palm-wine, their beans and maize, millet and sugar-cane,
crockery and the handiwork of their artisans in copper and iron and
wood, the vermilion camwood, their vegetables, and fruit of banana and
plantain, their tobacco and pipes and bangles, their fish-nets and
baskets, fish, and a multitude of things which their wants and tastes
have taught them to produce. All is animation and eager chaffer, until
noon, when the place becomes silent again and untenanted, a prey to
gloom and shade, where the hawk and the eagle, the ibis, the grey
parrot, and the monkey, may fly and scream and howl, undisturbed.
_Dec. 1._—On the 1st of December we floated down to the market-place of
Ukongeh, opposite Mitandeh Island, in south latitude 3° 6′′.
On this day we found ourselves in the vicinity of a place, of which a
whisper had reached Livingstone on the 10th of March, 1871, who, while
at Nyangwé, busied himself in noting down the reports of Wangwana and
natives. Ukongeh market-placeis the resort of the Wahika, whose chief,
Luapanya, was killed by Mohammed bin Gharib’s men. Behind the Wahika
villages, about ten miles, lies the territory of the belligerent and
cannibalistic Bakusu, an open and palm-growing country. The Arabs, each
time they have attempted to penetrate Ukusu, have been repulsed with
slaughter. On the right bank, opposite Mitandeh Island, is the territory
of the Waziri.
By several islands of great beauty, and well-wooded with all varieties
of tropical trees, we floated down to the market-place of Mivari,
opposite the northern end of the island of Mitangi. Uvitera village is a
mile south, and opposite it is the settlement of Chabogwé.
The river here ran in two broad streams, each 1000 yards wide, on either
side of a series of islands remarkable for their fertility. Where the
islands are large, the mainland is but thinly populated, though a dense
population occupies the country about two miles back from the river. On
these neutral market-places, the islander and the backwoods people meet
on equal terms for the purpose of bartering their various productions.
_Dec. 4._—On the 4th of December we halted, because of a rain-storm, and
also to forage for food, in which we were only partially successful. No
conflicts resulted, fortunately.
_Dec. 5._—The next day, the river flowing a little east of north, we
came to Muriwa Creek, on the northern bank of which was a remarkably
long village, or rather a series of villages, from fifty to a hundred
yards apart, and a broad, uniform street, thirty feet wide, and two
miles in length! Behind the village were the banana and the palm groves,
which supplied the inhabitants with fruit, wine, and oil.
This remarkable town was called Ikondu, and was situated in south
latitude 2° 53′. The huts were mere double cages, made very elegantly of
the Panicum grass cane, 7 feet long by 5 feet wide and 6 feet high,
separated, as regards the main building, but connected by the roof, so
that the central apartments were common to both cages, and in these the
families meet and perform their household duties, or receive their
friends for social chat. Between each village was the burial-place or
vault of their preceding kings, roofed over with the leaves of the
_Phrynium ramosissimum_, which appears to be as useful a plant for many
reasons as the banana to the Waganda. These cane cages are as cosy,
comfortable, and dry as ships’ cabins, as we found in the tempests of
rain that every alternate day now visited us.
The town of Ikondu was quite deserted, but food was abundant; the wine-
pots were attached to the palm-trees, bananas were hanging in clusters,
in the gardens were fine large melons, luxuriant plantations of cassava,
extensive plots of ground-nuts, and great tracts of waving sugar-cane.
We were very much dispirited, however. This desertion of their villages,
without an attempt on the part of the natives to make terms, or the
least chance of communicating with them, showed a stern contempt for the
things of this life that approached the sublime. Whither had such a
large population fled? For assuredly the population must have exceeded
two thousand.
[Illustration: A HOUSE OF IKONDU.]
We were dispirited for other reasons. The small-pox was raging,
dysentery had many victims, over fifty were infected with the itch, some
twenty suffered from ulcers, many complained of chest-diseases,
pneumonic fever, and pleurisis; there was a case or two of typhoid
fever, and others suffered from prolapsus ani and umbilical pains; in
short, there was work enough in the stricken Expedition for a dozen
physicians. Every day we tossed two or three bodies into the deep waters
of the Livingstone. Frank and I endeavoured our utmost to alleviate the
misery, but when the long caravan was entering camp I had many times to
turn my face away lest the tears should rise at sight of the miserable
victims of disease who reeled and staggered through the streets. Poor
creatures, what a life! wandering, ever wandering, in search of graves.
At Ikondu, left high and dry by some mighty flood years ago, there was a
large condemned canoe with great holes in its keel, and the traces of
decay both at bow and stern, yet it was capacious enough to carry sixty
sick people, and by fastening cables to it the boat might easily take it
in tow. I therefore called my carpenters, Uledi the coxswain, Saywa, his
cousin, and Salaam Allah, and offered twelve yards of cloth to each if
they would repair it within two days. They required twelve men and axes.
The men were detailed, and day and night the axes and hatchets were at
work trimming poles into narrow planking. The carpenters fitted the
boards, and secured them with wooden pins, and with the bruised pulp of
banana and bark cloth they caulked it. Then the Wangwana were called to
launch the monster, and we presently had the satisfaction of seeing it
float. It leaked a good deal, but some of the sick were not so ailing
but that they might bale it sufficiently to keep themselves afloat.
The success of the repairs which we had made in this ancient craft
proved to me that we possessed the means to construct a flotilla of
canoes of sufficient capacity to float the entire Expedition. I
resolved, therefore, should Tippu-Tib still persist in his refusal to
proceed with us, to bribe him to stay with us until we should have
constructed at least a means of escape.
_Dec. 6._—About noon of the next day, while we were busy repairing the
canoe, a native was found in the bushes close to the town with a small
bow and a quiver of miniature arrows in his hand, and, it being a
suspicious circumstance, he was secured and brought to me. He was a most
remarkable specimen for a warrior, I thought, as I looked at the
trembling diminutive figure. He stood, when measured, 4 feet 6½ inches,
round the chest 30 inches, and at the waist 24 inches. His head was
large, his face decked with a scraggy fringe of whiskers, and his
complexion light chocolate. As he was exceedingly bow-legged and thin-
shanked, I at first supposed him to be a miserable abortion cast out by
some tribe, and driven to wander through the forest, until he mentioned
the word “Watwa.” Recollecting that the Watwa were well known to be
dwarfs, I asked Bwana Abed, the guide, if this man resembled those Watwa
dwarfs Muhala’s people had fought with. He replied that the Watwa he had
met were at least a head shorter, though the man might be a member of
some tribe related to those he had seen! His complexion was similar, but
the dwarfs west of Ukuna, in the West Lumami country, had very long
beards, and bushy whiskers. His weapons were also the same—the short
bow, and tiny reed arrows, a foot long, with points smeared over with a
dark substance, with an odour resembling that of cantharides. Everybody
seemed to be particularly careful, as they examined the arrows, not to
touch the points, and, as many of them were folded in leaves, it
appeared to me that the native had some reason for this precaution. In
order to verify this opinion, I uncovered one of the leaf-guarded
points, and, taking hold of one of his arms, I gravely pretended to be
about to inoculate the muscle with the dark substance on the arrow. His
loud screams, visible terror, and cries of “Mabi! Mabi!” (“Bad, Bad,”)
with a persuasive eloquence of gesture, left no doubt in my mind that
the arrows were poisoned.
But the native possessed the talent of pronunciation in an eminent
degree. For the first time I heard the native name of the Livingstone,
as known to the Manyema and Wenya, pronounced as distinctly and
deliberately as though Haji Abdallah himself was endeavouring to convey
to my interested ears the true word RU-A´R-OW-A, emphasizing the ante-
penultimate syllable. I requested several Wangwana, Wanyamwezi, and
Arabs to pronounce the word after him. Only the principal Arabs were
able to articulate distinctly “Rua´rowa”; the black people transformed
the word instantly into “Lualawa.”
The ugly, prognathous-jawed creature, among other information he gave
us, related that just below Ikondu there was an island called Maturu,
whose people the “Kirembo-rembo” (lightning) had completely destroyed.
“Who sent the Kirembo-rembo, my friend?” I asked.
“Ah, who knows? Perhaps ‘Firi Niambi’”—the deity.
“Were they all killed?”
“All—men, women, children, goats, bananas, everything.”
He also told us that the chief of Ikondu, with all his people, was on
the opposite side; that from the wooded bluffs fronting the Urindi river
extended the powerful tribe of the Wabwiré, or Wasongora Meno (“the
people of the filed teeth”).
_Dec. 8._—On the 8th of December we moved down river to Unya-N’singé,
another large town, a mile in length, on the north side of a creek,
about thirty yards wide. On the south side, on the summit of bluffs 125
feet high, was a similar town called Kisui-cha-Uriko.
About four miles up the river from Unya-N’singé, the Lira river entered
the Livingstone. At the mouth it was 300 yards wide and 30 feet deep,
but two miles above it narrowed to 250 yards of deep and tolerably clear
water. A hostile movement on the part of the natives, accompanied by
fierce demonstrations on shore, compelled us, however, to relinquish the
design of penetrating farther up, and to hurry back to camp at Unya-
N’singé.
We had not been long there before we heard the war-horns sounding on the
right bank, and about 4 P.M. we saw eight large canoes coming up river
along the islands in mid-stream, and six along the left bank. On
approaching the camp they formed in line of battle near a small grassy
island about four hundred yards from us, and shouted to us to come and
meet them in mid-river. Our interpreters were told to tell them that we
had but one boat, and five canoes loaded with sick people; and that as
we had not come for the purpose of fighting, we would not fight.
A jeering laugh greeted the announcement, and the next minute the
fourteen canoes dashed towards us with wild yells. I disposed my people
along the banks, and waited. When they came within thirty yards, half of
the men in each canoe began to shoot their poisoned arrows, while the
other half continued to paddle in-shore. Just as they were about to
land, the command to fire was given to about thirty muskets, and the
savages fell back, retiring to the distance of about a hundred and fifty
yards, whence they maintained the fight. Directing the people on shore
to keep firing, I chose the boat’s crew, including Tippu-Tib and Bwana
Abdallah, and dashed out into mid-stream. The savages appeared to be
delighted, for they yelled triumphantly as they came towards us; only
for a short time, however, for we were now only some fifty yards from
them and our guns were doing terrible execution. In about a minute the
fight was over, and our wild foes were paddling down river; and we
returned to our camp, glad that this first affair with the Wasongora
Meno had terminated so quickly. Three of our people had been struck by
arrows, but a timely application of caustic neutralized the poison, and,
excepting swellings, nothing serious occurred.
Unya-N’singé is in south latitude 2° 49′. Nearly opposite it is Urangi,
another series of small villages; while on the north bank of the Lira
River, at the confluence, is the village of Uranja, and opposite to it
is Kisui Kachamba. The town of Meginna is said to be about twenty miles
south-east (magnetic) from Unya-N’singé. All this portion is reported to
have been the scene of Muini Muhala’s exploits.
_Dec. 9, 10, 11._—On the 9th and the 10th we halted, waiting for the
land division under Frank. On the morning of the 11th, as our friends
had not arrived, I set out in my boat up river, and four miles above
Unya-N’singé entered a creek, about forty yards wide, where I discovered
them endeavouring to cross the stream. The boat was heartily welcomed,
and in a few hours all were safely across.
They had, it appeared, again gone astray, and had entered Ukusu, where
they were again obliged to fight. Four had received grievous wounds, and
one had been killed. Three Wanyamwezi, moreover, had died of small-pox
_en route_ from Ikondu.
This creek, like all the rest in the neighbourhood, was half-choked with
the _Pistia stratiotes_, which the aborigines had enclosed with logs of
wood, as a considerable quantity of salt is obtained from these
asparagus-like plants. When the log-enclosed spaces are full, the plants
are taken out, exposed to the sun until they are withered, dried, and
then burnt. The ashes are collected in pots with punctured bottoms, and
the pots filled with water which is left to drip through into shallow
basins. After the evaporation by fire of this liquid, a dark grey
sediment of a nitrous flavour is left, which, re-cleansed, produces
salt.
At the head of this creek the land division reported a hot-water spring,
but I did not see it. On the bluffs, overhanging the creek, the
Rubiaceæ, bombax, red-wood, ironwood, and stink-wood, with various
palms, flourished.
The bed of the river consists of shale. Twenty yards from the bank the
river was about 12 feet deep; at 100 yards I obtained 23 feet soundings.
The bluffs exhibit at the water-line horizontal strata of greenish
shale; above, near the summit, the rock is grey with age and weather.
Here we dismissed our dwarf to his home, with a handful of shells and
four necklaces of beads for his very intelligent geographical knowledge
and his civilized pronunciation. He could not comprehend why we did not
eat him; and though we shook hands with him and smiled, and patted him
on the shoulder, I doubt whether he felt himself perfectly safe until he
had plunged out of sight into his native woods once more.
Tibbu-Tib determined to journey on land, and Frank and Sheikh Abdallah
were invited to the boat. Eight more victims to small-pox were admitted
into the hospital canoes, among them being three young girls, the
favourites of Tippu-Tib’s harem. For the accommodation of the raving and
delirious sick, we constructed a shed over the hospital-canoe. Before we
moved from Unya-N’singé, we had thrown eight corpses into the
Livingstone.
_Dec. 14._—On the 14th, gliding down river without an effort on our
part, we reached Kisui-Kachiambi, another large town about a mile in
length, and consisting of about three hundred long houses—situated on
the left bank, in south latitude 2° 35′. Opposite Mutako the natives
made a brilliant and well-planned attack on us, by suddenly dashing upon
us from a creek; and had not the ferocious nature of the people whom we
daily encountered taught us to be prepared at all times against assault,
we might have suffered considerable injury. Fortunately, only one man
was slightly punctured with a poisoned arrow, and an immediate and
plentiful application of nitrate of silver nullified all evil effects.
During our halt at Kisui-Kachiambi, two of the favourite women of Tippu-
Tib died of small-pox, and three youths also fell victims; of the land
division only one perished.
_Dec. 18._—On the 18th, after floating down a few miles, we came to a
broad channel which ran between the populous island of Mpika and the
left bank, and arriving at a market-green, under the shade of fine old
trees, halted for breakfast. The aborigines of Mpika at once gathered
opposite, blew war-horns, and mustered a large party, preparing to
attack us with canoes. To prevent surprise from the forest while the
porridge for the sick was being cooked, I had placed scouts on either
side of each of the roads that penetrated inland from the market green,
at about a couple of hundred yards’ distance from the camp. It happened
that, while drums were beating and horns were blowing on the island, and
everybody seemed mustering for a grand attack on us, a party of ten
people (among whom were three very fine-looking women), who had been on
a trading excursion to a village inland, and were returning to their
island home, had been waiting to be ferried across from the market-place
when we occupied it. The scouts surrounded them, and, seeing there was
no escape, they came into the market-place. The interpreters were called
to calm their fears, and to tell them that we were simply travellers
going down river, with no intention of hurting anybody.
By means of these people we succeeded in checking the warlike
demonstrations of the islanders, and in finally persuading them to make
blood-brotherhood, after which we invited canoes to come and receive
their friends. As they hesitated to do so, we embarked them in our own
boat, and conveyed them across to the island.
The news then spread quickly along the whole length of the island that
we were friends, and as we resumed our journey, crowds from the shore
cried out to us, “Mwendé Kivuké-vuké.” (“Go in peace!”)
The crest of the island was about eighty feet above the river, and was a
marvel of vegetation, chiefly of plantain and banana plantations. On our
left rose the other bank, with similar wooded heights, dipping
occasionally into small creeks and again rising into ridges, with
slopes, though steep, clothed with a perfect tangle of shrubs and
plants.
After a descent of ten miles by this channel, we found the river
increased in width to 2000 yards. While rowing down, close to the left
bank, we were suddenly surprised by hearing a cry from one of the guards
of the hospital canoes, and, turning round, saw an arrow fixed in his
chest. The next instant, looking towards the bank, we saw the forms of
many men in the jungle, and several arrows flew past my head in
extremely unpleasant proximity.
We sheered off instantly, and, pulling hard down stream, came near the
landing-place of an untenanted market-green. Here we drew in-shore, and,
sending out ten scouts to lie in wait in the jungle, I mustered all the
healthy men, about thirty in number, and proceeded to construct a fence
of brushwood, inspired to unwonted activity by a knowledge of our
lonely, defenceless state.
Presently a shriek of agony from another of my men rang out through the
jungle, followed immediately by the sharp crack of the scouts’ Sniders,
which again was responded to by an infernal din of war-horns and yells,
while arrows flew past us from all directions. Twenty more men were at
once sent into the jungle to assist the scouts, while, with might and
main, we laboured to surround our intended camp with tall and dense
hedges of brushwood, with sheltered nooks for riflemen.
After an hour’s labour the camp was deemed sufficiently tenable, and the
recall was sounded. The scouts retreated on the run, shouting as they
approached, “Prepare! prepare! they are coming!”
About fifty yards of ground outside our camp had been cleared, which,
upon the retreat of the scouts who had been keeping them in check, was
soon filled by hundreds of savages, who pressed upon us from all sides
but the river, in the full expectation that we were flying in fear. But
they were mistaken, for we were at bay, and desperate in our resolve not
to die without fighting. Accordingly, at such close quarters the contest
soon became terrific. Again and again the savages hurled themselves upon
our stockade, launching spear after spear with deadly force into the
camp, to be each time repulsed. Sometimes the muzzles of our guns almost
touched their breasts. The shrieks, cries, shouts of encouragement, the
rattling volleys of musketry, the booming war-horns, the yells and
defiance of the combatants, the groans and screams of the women and
children in the hospital camp, made together such a medley of hideous
noises as can never be effaced from my memory. For two hours this
desperate conflict lasted. More than once, some of the Wangwana were
about to abandon the struggle and run to the canoes, but Uledi, the
coxswain, and Frank threatened them with clubbed muskets, and with the
muzzles of their rifles drove them back to the stockade. At dusk the
enemy retreated from the vicinity of the clearing; but the hideous
alarums produced from their ivory horns, and increased by the echoes of
the close forest, still continued; and now and again a vengeful poison-
laden arrow flew by with an ominous whizz to quiver in the earth at our
feet, or fall harmlessly into the river behind us.
Sleep, under such circumstances, was out of the question; yet there were
many weak, despairing souls whom even the fear of being eaten could not
rouse to a sense of manliness and the necessity for resistance. Aware of
this, I entrusted the task of keeping the people awake to Frank Pocock,
Sheikh Abdallah, and Wadi Rehani, the “treasurer” of the Expedition, who
were ordered to pour kettles of cold water over their heads upon the
least disposition to go to sleep.
About 11 P.M. a dark form was seen creeping from the bush on all fours
towards our stockade. I moved quietly to where vigilant Uledi was
maintaining watch and ward, and whispered to him to take two men and
endeavour to catch him. Uledi willingly consented, and burrowed out
through a slight opening in the fence. The eyes of those in the secret
became fastened upon the dim shadows of the hostile forms, so similar,
it seemed to me, in their motions to a crocodile which I had seen on a
rock near Kisorya in Ukerewé, as it endeavoured to deceive a large diver
into the belief that it was asleep while actually meditating its murder.
Soon we saw Uledi’s form leap upon that of the prostrate savage and
heard him call out for help, which was at once given him by his two
assistants; but an ominous rustling in the bushes behind announced that
the cunning enemy were also on the alert, and as they rushed to the
rescue, Uledi snatched his captive’s spears, and with his two friends
retreated into the camp, while our guns again awoke the echoes of the
forest and the drowsy men in the camp to a midnight action as brisk as
it was short.
Twit, twit, fell the arrows once more in showers, piercing the brush
fence, perforating the foliage, or smartly tapping the trunks and
branches, while we, crouching down on the ground, under the thick
shadows of the brushwood, replied with shot, slugs, and bullets, that
swept the base of the jungle.
Silence was soon again restored and the strict watch renewed. From a
distance the poisoned reeds still pattered about us, but, protected by
our snug stockade and lying low in our covert, they were harmless,
though they kept us awake listening to the low whizz and reminding one
another that the foe was still near.
_Dec. 19._—Morning dawned upon the strange scene. The cooks proceeded to
make fires, to cook some food, under the shelter of the high banks, that
we might break our long fasts. Frank and I made a sufficient meal out of
six roasted bananas and a few cups of sugarless coffee.
After which, giving strict orders to Frank and Sheikh Abdallah to be
vigilant in my absence, the boat was manned, and I was rowed to a
distance of 500 yards from the camp towards the right bank. There
stopping to examine the shores, I was surprised to see, only a quarter
of a mile below our camp, a large town, consisting, like those above, of
a series of villages, in a uniform line along the high bank, while a
perfect wealth of palm-trees and banana plantations proved
unquestionably the prosperity of the populous district. I recollected
then that the intelligent dwarf already mentioned had spoken of a
powerful chief, whose district, called Vinya-Njara, possessed so many
men that it would be utterly impossible to pass him.
My plans were soon made. It was necessary that we should occupy the
southernmost village in order to house the sick, to obtain food for
ourselves, and to keep up communication with the land division when it
should announce its presence.
We rowed back to the camp, by this time the observed of a thousand heads
which projected from the jungle between our camp and the first village.
As nothing had been unpacked from the boat and the hospital-canoes, and
only the defenders of the camp had disembarked, every soul was in a few
seconds seated in his place, and pulling swiftly over that intervening
quarter of a mile down to the landing of the first village—targets, it
is true, for several arrows for a short time, but no one could stop to
reply. Arriving at the landing, two men were detailed off to each canoe
and the boat, and we rushed up the high and steep bank. The village was
empty, and, by cutting some trees down to block up each end, became at
once perfectly defensible.
We were not long left unmolested. The savages recovered their wits, and
strove desperately to dislodge us, but at each end of the village, which
was about three hundred yards long, our muskets blazed incessantly. I
also caused three or four sharpshooters to ascend tall trees along the
river banks, which permitted them, though unseen, to overlook the tall
grasses and rear of the village, and to defend us from fire. Meanwhile,
for the first time for twenty-four hours, the sick (seventy-two in
number) were allotted one-fourth of the village for themselves, as over
one-half of them were victims of the pest, of which three had died in
the canoes during the fearful hours of the previous night.
The combat lasted until noon, when, mustering twenty-five men, we made a
sally, and succeeded in clearing the skirts of the village for the day.
Uledi caught one of the natives by the foot, and succeeded in conveying
him within the village, where he was secured as a most welcome prize,
through whom we might possibly, if opportunities offered, bring this
determined people to reason.
Then while the scouts deployed in a crescent form from beyond the ends
of the village into the forest, the rest of our force formed in line,
and commenced to cut down all weeds and grass within a distance of a
hundred yards. This work consumed three hours, after which the scouts
were withdrawn, and we rested half an hour for another scant meal of
bananas. Thus refreshed after our arduous toil, we set about building
marksmen’s nests at each end of the village 15 feet high, which, manned
with ten men each, commanded all approaches. For our purpose there were
a number of soft-wood logs, already prepared in the village, and bark
rope and cane-fibre were abundant in every hut, for the inhabitants of
Vinya-Njara devoted themselves, among other occupations, to fishing, and
the manufacture of salt from the Pistia plants.
By evening our labours were nearly completed. During the night there was
a slight alarm, and now and then the tapping on the roofs and the
pattering among the leaves informed us that our enemies were still
about, but we did not reply to them.
_Dec. 20._—The next morning an assault was attempted, for the enemy
emerged from the bush on the run into the clearing; but our arrangements
seemed to surprise them, for they retreated again almost immediately
into the gloomy obscurities of the jungle, where they maintained, with
indomitable spirit, horn-blowing and a terrific “bo-bo-boing.”
We had, it seems—though I have not had time to mention it before—passed
the tribes which emitted cries of “Ooh-hu-hu, ooh-hu, ooh-hu-hu,” for
ever since our arrival at Vinya-Njara we had listened with varied
feelings to the remarkable war-strains of “Bo-bo, bo-bo, bo-bo-o-o-oh,”
uttered in tones so singular as to impress even my African comrades with
a sense of its eccentricity.
About noon a large flotilla of canoes was observed ascending the river
close to the left bank, manned by such a dense mass of men that any
number between five hundred and eight hundred would be within the mark.
We watched them very carefully until they had ascended the river about
half a mile above us, when, taking advantage of the current, they bore
down towards us, blowing their war-horns, and drumming vigorously. At
the same moment, as though this were a signal in concert with those on
land, war-horns responded from the forest, and I had scarcely time to
order every man to look out when the battle-tempest of arrows broke upon
us from the woods. But the twenty men in the nests at the corners of the
village proved sufficient to resist the attack from the forest side,
Frank Pocock being in charge of one, and Sheikh Abdallah of the other,
while I, with twenty men lining the bushes along the water line,
defended the river side.
This was a period when every man felt that he must either fight or
resign himself to the only other alternative, that of being heaved a
headless corpse into the river. Our many successful struggles for a
precarious existence had begun to animate even the most cowardly with
that pride of life that superiority creates, and that feeling of
invulnerability that frequent lucky escapes foster. I was conscious, as
I cast my eyes about, that my followers were conspicuously
distinguishing themselves, and were at last emerging from that low level
of undeveloped manhood which is the general state of men untried and
inexperienced. With a number of intelligent whites, that acquisition of
courageous qualities would have been assisted by natural good sense, and
a few months’ hard service such as we had undergone would have sufficed
to render them calm and steady in critical times; but with such people
as I had, who had long shown—with the exception of a few—a wonderful
inaptitude for steadiness, the lesson had taken two years. These last
few days on the Livingstone river had been rapidly perfecting that
compact band for the yet more dangerous times and periods to come.
Therefore, though the notes of the war-horns were dreadful, our foe
numerous and pertinacious, and evidently accustomed to victory, I failed
to observe one man amongst my people then fighting who did not seem
desirous to excel even Uledi, the coxswain.
The battle had continued half an hour with a desperate energy, only
qualified by our desperate state. Ammunition we possessed in abundance,
and we made use of it with deadly effect, yet what might have become of
us is doubtful, had not the advanced-guard of Tippu-Tib and our land
division arrived at this critical juncture, causing dismay to the
savages in the forest, who announced the reinforcement by war-horns to
the savages in the canoes, many of whom were, at the moment, making most
strenuous efforts to effect a landing. The river savages, upon hearing
these signals, withdrew, but as they were paddling away they proclaimed
their intention of preventing all escape, either up river or down river,
and expressed their enormous contempt for us by throwing water towards
us with their paddles. We saw all the canoes mysteriously disappear
behind an island, situated about 1600 yards off, and opposite to our
camp.
It was a great pleasure to greet all our people once more, though they
were in a wretched plight. Bad food, and a scarcity of even that during
three days in the jungle, constantly losing the road, wandering
aimlessly about, searching for thinly grown spots through which they
might creep more easily, had reduced their physical strength so much
that it was clear at a glance that several days must elapse before they
would be able to resume their journey.
When all had arrived, I called the forty defenders of the camp together,
and distributing cloth to each of them, told them that as the enemy had
taken their canoes behind the island opposite, they very probably
intended to resume the fight; that it was, therefore, our duty to
prevent that if possible, by making a night expedition, and cutting the
canoes adrift, which would leave them under the necessity of abandoning
the project of attacking us; “besides,” said I, “if we can do the job in
a complete way, the enormous loss of canoes will have such an effect on
them that it will clear our progress down river.”
Frank Pocock was requested to take his choice of crews and man the four
little canoes, which would carry about twenty men, and, proceeding to
the south end of the islet, to spread his canoes across the mouth of the
channel, between the islet and the right bank, while I proceeded in the
boat to the north end of the islet, and, bearing down the channel,
sought out the enemy’s canoes and cut them adrift, which floating down,
were to be picked up by him.
It was a rainy, gusty night, and dark; but at 10 P.M., the hour of
deepest sleep, we set out with muffled oars, Frank to his appointed
position, and I up river, along the left bank, until, having ascended
nearly opposite the lower end of Mpika Island, we cut rapidly across
river to the right bank. Then, resting on our oars, we searched the bank
narrowly, until seeing a fire on the bank we rowed cautiously in, and
discovered eight large canoes, each tied by a short cable of rattan to a
stake, driven deep into the clay. Uledi, Bwana Hamadi, and myself soon
set these free, and giving each a push successively far into the stream,
waited a short time, and then followed them in our boat. Four other
canoes were cut adrift a few hundred yards below. On [Illustration:
CANOE SCOOP.] coming into the channel between the islet and the bank,
numerous bright fires informed us that the largest number of the enemy
was encamped on it, and that their canoes must be fastened below the
several camps. We distinctly heard the murmur of voices, and the
coughing of shivering people, or of those who indulged in the pernicious
_bhang_; but gliding under the shadows of the tall banks and in the
solemn blackness of the trees, we were unperceived, and canoe after
canoe, each with its paddles and scoops within, was pushed into the
swift stream, [Illustration: SCOOPS.] which conveyed it down river to
where we felt assured Frank was ready with his sharp and quick-eyed
assistants. In this manner thirty-six canoes, some of great size, were
sent adrift; and not being able to discover more, we also followed them
noiselessly down stream, until we came to Frank’s canoes, which were
being borne down stream by the weight of so many. However, casting the
great stone anchor of the boat, canoe after canoe was attached to us,
and leaving twenty-six in charge of Frank, we hoisted sail and rowed up
stream, with twelve canoes in tow. Arriving at camp, the canoes were
delivered in charge to the Wangwana, and then the boat hastily returned
to lend assistance to Frank, who made his presence known to us by
occasionally blowing the trumpet. After relieving him of eight more
canoes, he was able almost to keep up with us to camp, where we all
arrived at 5 A.M., after a most successful night expedition.
_Dec. 21._—At 9 A.M. the boat was manned again, and we rowed to the
scene of our midnight labours. The island was all but abandoned! Only a
few persons were left, and to them, with the aid of our interpreters, we
communicated our terms, viz., that we would occupy Vinya-Njara, and
retain all the canoes unless they made peace. We also informed them that
we had one prisoner, who would be surrendered to them if they availed
themselves of our offer of peace; that we had suffered heavily, and they
had also suffered; that war was an evil which wise men avoided; that if
they came with two canoes with their chiefs, two canoes with our chiefs
should meet them in mid-stream, and make blood-brotherhood; and that on
that condition some of their canoes should be restored, and we would
purchase the rest.
They replied that what we had spoken was quite true, but as their chiefs
were some distance away in the woods they must have time to communicate
with them, but that they would announce their decision next day. We then
left them, not, however, without throwing packets of shells towards
them, as an earnest of our wish to be friends, and rowed to our camp at
Vinya-Njara.
The forests for a distance of ten miles around Vinya-Njara were clear of
enemies. The friendly natives of Mpika Island came down to our
assistance in negotiating a peace between us and the surly chiefs, who
had all withdrawn into the forests on the right bank.
_Dec. 22._—On the 22nd of December, the ceremony of blood-brotherhood
having been formally concluded, in midriver, between Safeni and the
chief of Vinya-Njara, our captive and fifteen canoes were returned, and
twenty-three canoes were retained by us for a satisfactory equivalent,
and thus our desperate struggle terminated. Our losses at Vinya-Njara
were four killed and thirteen wounded.
In the afternoon, Tippu-Tib, Sheikh Abdallah, and Muini Ibrahim declared
their intention of returning to Nyangwé by another route, and with such
firmness of tone that I renounced the idea of attempting to persuade
them to change their decision. Indeed, the awful condition of the sick,
the high daily mortality, the constant attacks on us during each
journey, and the last terrible struggle with Vinya-Njara, had produced
such dismal impressions on the minds of the escort that no amount of
money would have bribed the undisciplined people of Tippu-Tib to have
entertained for a moment the idea of continuing the journey.
Though eight marches were still wanting to complete the twenty camps
from Wané-Kirumbu, in Uregga, I felt that their courage was exhausted. I
therefore consented to release Tippu-Tib from his engagement, on
condition that he used his influence with the people of the Expedition
to follow me. He consented to do so, and in consideration for his
services thus far and the calamities that his people had undergone, I
distributed the following gifts:—
To Tibbu-Tib, a draft for 2,600 dollars, 1 riding-ass, 1 trunk, 1 gold
chain, 30 doti of fine cloth, 150 lbs. of beads, 16,300 shells, 1
revolver, 200 rounds of ammunition, 50 lbs. of brass wire.
” Sheikh Abdallah, 20 doti of cloth.
” Muini Ibrahim, 10 doti of cloth.
” Bwana Abed, the guide, 10 doti of cloth.
” Bwana Hamadi, 5 doti of cloth.
” ” Cheché, 5 doti of cloth.
” ” Khamis, 5 doti of cloth.
” 50 of his principal men, 2 doti of cloth.
” 90 of his escort, 1 doti of cloth.
” each of the Wangwana chiefs, 2½ doti of cloth.
” each of the Wanyamwezi and Wangwana of the Expedition, 1½ doti of
cloth.
” each woman and boy, 1 doti of cloth.
It was then announced that—inasmuch as my duty compelled me to endeavour
to do my utmost to trace the great river to the sea, and as the chiefs
and the principal men of the Expedition were resolved to follow me
wherever I should lead them—on the fifth day from then we should strike
our camp, and form a new and separate camp, and that on the sixth day we
should embark, and begin our journey down the river to the ocean—or to
death.
Said I: “Into whichever sea this great river empties, there shall we
follow it. You have seen that I have saved you a score of times, when
everything looked black and dismal for us. That care of you to which you
owe your safety hitherto, I shall maintain, until I have seen you safe
and sound in your own homes, and under your own palm-trees. All I ask of
you is, perfect trust in whatever I say. On your lives depends my own;
if I risk yours, I risk mine. As a father looks after his children, I
will look after you. It is true we are not so strong as when the
Wanyaturu attacked us, or when we marched through Unyoro to Muta Nzigé,
but we are of the same band of men, and we are still of the same spirit.
Many of our party have already died, but death is the end of all; and if
they died earlier than we, it was the will of God, and who shall rebel
against His will? It may be we shall meet a hundred wild tribes yet,
who, for the sake of eating us, will rush to meet and fight us. We have
no wish to molest them. We have moneys with us, and are, therefore, not
poor. If they fight us, we must accept it as an evil, like disease,
which we cannot help. We shall continue to do our utmost to make
friends, and the river is wide and deep. If we fight, we fight for our
lives. It may be that we shall be distressed by famine and want. It may
be that we shall meet with many more cataracts, or find ourselves before
a great lake, whose wild waves we cannot cross with these canoes; but we
are not children, we have heads, and arms, and are we not always under
the eye of God, who will do with us as He sees fit? Therefore, my
children, make up your minds as I have made up mine, that, as we are now
in the very middle of this continent, and it would be just as bad to
return as to go on, we shall continue our journey, that we shall toil
on, and on, by this river and no other, to the salt sea.”[10]
-----
Footnote 10:
A poetical friend on hearing this address brought to my notice a
remarkable coincidence. In one of Tennyson’s poems, Ulysses addresses
his followers thus:—
“My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me,
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads: come, my friends,
’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down;
It may be we shall touch the happy isles
And see the great Achilles whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”
-----
A loud shout of applause greeted me as I concluded, and Manwa Sera
followed it up, and in a few spirited words said that they were bound to
let the Wanyamwezi see of what stuff the sea children were made, and,
turning to the Arabs, he asked them to look at the black men who were
about to perform what they dreaded. Uledi, the coxswain, on behalf of
the boat-boys, said that I was their father, and though every one else
should refuse to move farther, Frank and I might step into the boat, and
he and his friends would dare the long journey that very day!
There was ample work for us all before setting out on our adventurous
journey. Food had to be procured and prepared for at least twenty days.
Several of the canoes required to be repaired, and all to be lashed in
couples, to prevent them from capsizing; and special arrangements
required to be made for the transport of three riding-asses, which we
had resolved upon taking with us, as a precaution in the event of our
being compelled to abandon the canoes and to journey along the banks.
_Dec. 25._—Christmas Day we passed most pleasantly and happily, like men
determined to enjoy life while it lasted. In the morning we mustered all
the men, and appointed them to their respective canoes. Names taken from
those British cruisers which had become familiar to the east coast
people were also given to them by the Zanzibaris, amid loud laughter,
except to half-a-dozen which Frank and I reserved to bear such names as
we selected for them.
1. The exploring boat, Lady Alice.
2. Ocean, commanded by Frank.
3. Livingstone.
4. Stanley.
5. Telegraph.
6. Herald.
7. Jason.
8. Argo.
9. Penguin.
10. Wolverine.
11. Fawn.
12. Glasgow (flag-ship, commanded by Manwa Sera).
13. London Town.
14. America.
15. Hart.
16. Daphne.
17. Lynx.
18. Nymph.
19. Vulture.
20. Shark.
21. Arab.
22. Mirambo.
23. Mtesa.
Canoe races were afterwards instituted between the various vessels, and
to the crews who excelled were awarded gifts of cloth. The afternoon was
celebrated by foot-races, in which, for the sake of the prizes offered,
the Arabs joined, occasioning much amusement to the people. The great
event was the race between the famous Tippu-Tib and Francis Pocock. The
Arab prepared himself with unusual determination to compete for the
prize, a richly chased silver goblet and cup, one of the presents
bestowed on me before leaving England. The course was 300 yards, from
end to end of the village street. Though Frank exerted himself to the
utmost, the sinews of the muscular Arab carried him to the front at the
finish by 15 yards. Then the little boys of the Expedition competed with
the little boys of the escort, and finally ten young women were induced
to attempt to compete for a prize, and their presence on the racecourse
convulsed the hundreds assembled to witness the unusual scene. Some were
very ungainly and elephantine in their movements, especially Muscati,
the wife of the chief Safeni, but others were most graceful of body and
lithe of limb, and raced with the swiftness of Atalanta. But the girl
Khamisi of Zanzibar was declared the winner.
A dance, by a hundred Wanyamwezi, adorned in all the feathered glory and
terror of war, with sounding drums and melodious blasts from ivory
horns, terminated the extraordinary festivities.
_Dec. 26._—On the 26th Tippu-Tib gave a banquet of rice and roasted
sheep to the Expedition, and malofu, or palm-wine, from Mpika Island,
assisted to maintain the high spirits and sanguine prospects of success
with which these cheery proceedings, festivities, and sports inspired
us.
The next day at dawn we embarked all the men, women, and children, 149
souls in all, and the riding-asses of the Expedition, and, telling
Tippu-Tib we should on the morrow pull up stream and descend the river
close to the village of Vinya-Njara for a last farewell, we pulled
across to the islet near the right bank, where we constructed a rude
camp for the only night we should remain.
When I ascertained, after arrival, that every soul connected with the
Expedition was present, my heart was filled with a sense of confidence
and trust such as I had not enjoyed since leaving Zanzibar.
In the evening, while sleep had fallen upon all save the watchful
sentries in charge of the boat and canoes, Frank and I spent a serious
time.
Frank was at heart as sanguine as I that we should finally emerge
somewhere, but, on account of the persistent course of the great river
towards the north, a little uneasiness was evident in his remarks.
“Before we finally depart, sir,” said he, “do you really believe, in
your inmost soul, that we shall succeed? I ask this because there are
such odds against us—not that I for a moment think it would be best to
return, having proceeded so far.”
“Believe? Yes, I do believe that we shall all emerge into light again
some time. It is true that our prospects are as dark as this night. Even
the Mississippi presented no such obstacles to De Soto as this river
will necessarily present to us. Possibly its islands and its forests
possessed much of the same aspect, but here we are at an altitude of
sixteen hundred and fifty feet above the sea. What conclusions can we
arrive at? Either that this river penetrates a great distance north of
the Equator, and, taking a mighty sweep round, descends into the
Congo—this, by the way, would lessen the chances of there being many
cataracts in the river;—or that we shall shortly see it in the
neighbourhood of the Equator, take a direct cut towards the Congo, and
precipitate itself, like our Colorado river, through a deep cañon, or
down great cataracts; or that it is either the Niger or the Nile. I
believe it will prove to be the Congo; if the Congo, then there must be
many cataracts. Let us only hope that the cataracts are all in a lump,
close together.
“Any way, whether the Congo, the Niger, or the Nile, I am prepared,
otherwise I should not be so confident. Though I love life as much as
you do, or any other man does, yet on the success of this effort I am
about to stake my life, my all. To prevent its sacrifice foolishly I
have devised numerous expedients with which to defy wild men, wild
nature, and unknown terrors. There is an enormous risk, but you know the
adage, ‘Nothing risked, nothing won.’
* * * * * * * *
“Now look at this, the latest chart which Europeans have drawn of this
region. It is a blank, perfectly white. We will draw two curves just to
illustrate what I mean. One shows the river reaching the Equator and
turning westward. Supposing there are no cataracts, we ought to reach
‘Tuckey’s Furthest’ by the 15th of February; but if the river takes that
wider sweep from 2° north of the Equator, we may hope to reach by the
15th of March, and, if we allow a month for cataracts or rapids, we have
a right to think that we ought to see the ocean by either the middle or
the end of April, 1877.
“I assure you, Frank, this enormous void is about to be filled up. Blank
as it is, it has a singular fascination for me. Never has white paper
possessed such a charm for me as this has, and I have already mentally
peopled it, filled it with most wonderful pictures of towns, villages,
rivers, countries, and tribes—all in the imagination—and I am burning to
see whether I am correct or not. _Believe?_ I see us gliding down by
tower and town, and my mind will not permit a shadow of doubt. Good-
night, my boy! Good-night! and may happy dreams of the sea, and ships,
and pleasure, and comfort, and success attend you in your sleep! To-
morrow, my lad, is the day we shall cry—‘Victory or death!’”
[Illustration: “TOWARDS THE UNKNOWN.”]