The struggle with the river renewed—Passing the “Father”—In the
“Cauldron”—Poor Kalulu!—Soudi’s strange adventures—At the “Whirlpool
Narrows”—Lady Alice Rapids—Our escape from death—“Isles of
Eden”—Thieves amongst us—The Inkisi Falls—The canoes dragged over
the mountain—Trade along the Livingstone—Ulcers and entozoa—An
artful compound.
_Mar. 15._—The wide wild land which, by means of the greatest river of
Africa, we have pierced, is now about to be presented in a milder aspect
than that which has filled the preceding pages with records of desperate
conflicts and furious onslaughts of savage men. The people no longer
resist our advance. Trade has tamed their natural ferocity, until they
no longer resent our approach with the fury of beasts of prey.
It is the dread river itself of which we shall have now to complain. It
is no longer the stately stream whose mystic beauty, noble grandeur, and
gentle uninterrupted flow along a course of nearly nine hundred miles,
ever fascinated us, despite the savagery of its peopled shores, but a
furious river rushing down a steep bed obstructed by reefs of lava,
projected barriers of rock, lines of immense boulders, winding in
crooked course through deep chasms, and dropping down over terraces in a
long series of falls, cataracts, and rapids. Our frequent contests with
the savages culminated in tragic struggles with the mighty river as it
rushed and roared through the deep, yawning pass that leads from the
broad table-land down to the Atlantic Ocean.
Those voiceless and lone streams meandering between the thousand isles
of the Livingstone; those calm and silent wildernesses of water over
which we had poured our griefs and wailed in our sorrow; those woody
solitudes, where nightly we had sought to soothe our fevered brows, into
whose depths we breathed our vows; that sea-like amplitude of water
which had proved our refuge in distress, weird in its stillness, and
solemn in its mystery, are now exchanged for the cliff-lined gorge,
through which with inconceivable fury the Livingstone sweeps with
foaming billows into the broad Congo, which, at a distance of only 155
geographical miles, is nearly 1100 feet below the summit of the first
fall.
_Mar. 16._—On the 16th of March, having explored as far as the Gordon-
Bennett River, and obtained a clear idea of our situation during the
15th, we began our labours with energy. Goods, asses, women, and
children, with the guard under Frank, first moved overland to a
temporary halting-place near the confluence. Then manning the boat, I
led the canoe-men from point to point along the right bank, over the
first rapids. We had some skilful work to perform to avoid being swept
away by the velocity of the current; but whenever we came to rocks we
held the rattan hawsers in our hands, and, allowing the stream to take
them beyond these dangerous points, brought them into the sheltered lee.
Had a hawser parted nothing could have saved the canoe or the men in it,
for at the confluence of the Gordon-Bennett with the great river the
entire river leaps headlong into an abyss of waves and foam. Arriving in
the Gordon-Bennett, we transported the Expedition across, and then our
labours ended at 5 P.M. for the day.
Itsi of Ntamo had informed us there were only three cataracts, which he
called the “Child,” the “Mother,” and the “Father.” The “Child” was a
two hundred yards’ stretch of broken water; and the “Mother,” consisting
of half a mile of dangerous rapids, we had succeeded in passing, and had
pushed beyond it by crossing the upper branch of the Gordon-Bennett,
which was an impetuous stream, 75 yards wide, with big cataracts of its
own higher up. But the “Father” is the wildest stretch of river that I
have ever seen. Take a strip of sea blown over by a hurricane, four
miles in length and half a mile in breadth, and a pretty accurate
conception of its leaping waves may be obtained. Some of the troughs
were 100 yards in length, and from one to the other the mad river
plunged. There was first a rush down into the bottom of an immense
trough, and then, by its sheer force, the enormous volume would lift
itself upward steeply until, gathering itself into a ridge, it suddenly
hurled itself 20 or 30 feet straight upward, before rolling down into
another trough. If I looked up or down along this angry scene, every
interval of 50 or 100 yards of it was marked by wave-towers—their
collapse into foam and spray, the mad clash of watery hills, bounding
mounds and heaving billows, while the base of either bank, consisting of
a long line of piled boulders of massive size, was buried in the
tempestuous surf. The roar was tremendous and deafening. I can only
compare it to the thunder of an express train through a rock tunnel. To
speak to my neighbour, I had to bawl in his ear.
The most powerful ocean steamer, going at full speed on this portion of
the river, would be as helpless as a cockle-boat. I attempted three
times, by watching some tree floated down from above, to ascertain the
rate of the wild current, by observing the time it occupied in passing
between two given points, from which I estimate it to be about thirty
miles an hour!
_Mar. 17._—On the 17th, after cutting brushwood and laying it over a
path of 800 yards in length, we crossed from the upper branch of the
Gordon-Bennett to the lower branch, which was of equal breadth, but 20
feet below it. This enabled us the next day to float down to the
confluence of the lower branch with the Livingstone. We could do no more
on this day; the people were fainting from lack of food.
_Mar. 18._—On the 18th, through the goodwill of Mankoneh, the chief of
the Bateké, we were enabled to trade with the aborigines, a wild and
degraded tribe, subsisting principally on fish and cassava. A goat was
not to be obtained at any price, and for a chicken they demanded a gun!
Cassava, however, was abundant.
From the confluence we formed another brush-covered road, and hauled the
canoes over another 800 yards into a creek, which enabled us to reach,
on the 20th, a wide sand-bar that blocked its passage into the great
river. The sand-bar, in its turn, enabled us to reach the now moderated
stream, below the influence of the roaring “Father,” and to proceed by
towing and punting half a mile below to an inlet in the rocky shore.
Gampa, the young chief of this district, became very friendly, and
visited us each day with small gifts of cassava bread, a few bananas,
and a small gourd of palm-wine.
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE RIGHT BRANCH, FIRST CATARACT, OF THE
LIVINGSTONE FALLS, FROM FOUR MILES BELOW JUEMBA ISLAND.]
_Mar. 21._—On the 21st and the two days following we were engaged in
hauling our vessels overland, a distance of three-quarters of a mile,
over a broad rocky point, into a bay-like formation. Gampa and his
people nerved us to prosecute our labours by declaring that there was
only one small cataract below. Full of hope, we halted on the 24th to
rest the wearied people, and in the meantime to trade for food.
[Illustration: OVER ROCKY POINT CLOSE TO GAMPA’S.]
_Mar. 25._—The 25th saw us at work at dawn in a bad piece of river,
which is significantly styled the “Cauldron.” Our best canoe, 75 feet
long, 3 feet wide, by 21 inches deep, the famous _London Town_,
commanded by Manwa Sera, was torn from the hands of fifty men, and swept
away in the early morning down to destruction. In the afternoon, the
_Glasgow_, parting her cables, was swept away, drawn nearly into mid-
river, returned up river half a mile, again drawn into the depths,
ejected into a bay near where Frank was camped, and, to our great joy,
finally recovered. Accidents were numerous; the glazed trap rocks,
washed by the ever-rising tidal-like waves, were very slippery,
occasioning dangerous falls to the men. One man dislocated his shoulder,
another was bruised on the hips, and another had a severe contusion of
the head. Too careless of my safety in my eagerness and anxiety, I fell
down, feet first, into a chasm 30 feet deep between two enormous
boulders, but fortunately escaped with only a few rib bruises, though
for a short time I was half stunned.
_Mar. 27._—On the 27th we happily succeeded in passing the fearful
Cauldron, but during our last efforts the _Crocodile_, 85 feet 3 inches
long, was swept away into the centre of the Cauldron, heaved upward,
whirled round with quick gyrations, and finally shot into the bay north
of Rocky Island, where it was at last secured. The next day we dropped
down stream, and reached the western end of the bay above Rocky Island
Falls.
Leaving Frank Pocock as usual in charge of the camp and goods, I
mustered ninety men—most of the others being stiff from wounds received
in the fight at Mwana Ibaka and other places—and proceeded, by making a
wooden tramway with sleepers and rollers, to pass Rocky Island Falls.
Mpwapwa and Shumari, of the boat’s crew, were sent to explore meanwhile,
for another inlet or recess in the right bank. By 2 P.M. we were below
the falls, and my two young men had returned, reporting that a mile or
so below there was a fine camp, with a broad strip of sand lining a bay.
This animated us to improve the afternoon hours by attempting to reach
it. The seventeen canoes now left to us were manned according to their
capacity. As I was about to embark in my boat to lead the way, I turned
to the people to give my last instructions—which were, to follow me,
clinging to the right bank, and by no means to venture into mid-river
into the current. While delivering my instructions, I observed Kalulu in
the _Crocodile_, which was made out of the _Bassia Parkii_ tree, a hard
heavy wood, but admirable for canoes. When I asked him what he wanted in
the canoe, he replied, with a deprecating smile and an expostulating
tone, “I can pull, sir; see!” “Ah, very well,” I answered.
The boat-boys took their seats, and, skirting closely the cliffy shore,
we rowed down stream, while I stood in the bow of the boat, guiding the
coxswain, Uledi, with my hand. The river was not more than 450 yards
wide; but one cast of the sounding-lead close to the bank obtained a
depth of 138 feet. The river was rapid, with certainly a 7-knot current,
with a smooth greasy surface, now and then an eddy, a gurgle, and gentle
heave, but not dangerous to people in possession of their wits. In a
very few moments we had descended the mile stretch, and before us, 600
yards off, roared the furious falls since distinguished by the name
“Kalulu.”
[Illustration: AT WORK PASSING THE LOWER END OF THE FIRST CATARACT OF
THE LIVINGSTONE FALLS, NEAR ROCKY ISLAND.]
With a little effort we succeeded in rounding the point and entering the
bay above the falls, and reaching a pretty camping-place on a sandy
beach. The first, second, and third canoes arrived soon after me, and I
was beginning to congratulate myself on having completed a good day’s
work, when to my horror I saw the _Crocodile_ in mid-river far below the
point which we had rounded, gliding with the speed of an arrow towards
the falls over the treacherous calm water. Human strength availed
nothing now, and we watched it in agony, for I had three favourites in
her—Kalulu, Mauredi, and Ferajji; and of the others, two, Rehani Makua
and Wadi Jumah, were also very good men. It soon reached the island
which cleft the falls, and was swept down the left branch. We saw it
whirled round three or four times, then plunged down into the depths,
out of which the stern presently emerged pointed upward, and we knew
then that Kalulu and his canoe-mates were no more.
[Illustration: DEATH OF KALULU.]
Fast upon this terrible catastrophe, before we could begin to bewail
their loss, another canoe with two men in it darted past the point,
borne by irresistibly on the placid but swift current to apparent, nay,
almost certain destruction. I despatched my boat’s crew up along the
cliffs to warn the forgetful people that in mid-stream was certain
death, and shouted out commands for the two men to strike for the left
shore. The steersman by a strange chance shot his canoe over the falls,
and, dexterously edging his canoe towards the left shore a mile below,
he and his companion contrived to spring ashore and were saved. As we
observed them clamber over the rocks to approach a point opposite us,
and finally sit down, regarding us in silence across the river, our pity
and love gushed strong towards them, but we could utter nothing of it.
The roar of the falls completely mocked and overpowered the feeble human
voice.
Before the boat’s crew could well reach the descending canoes, the
boulders being very large and offering great obstacles to rapid
progress, a third canoe—but a small and light one—with only one man, the
brave lad Soudi, who escaped from the spears of the Wanyaturu assassins
in 1875, darted by, and cried out, as he perceived himself to be
drifting helplessly towards the falls, “La il Allah, il Allah” (There is
but one God), “I am lost, Master?” He was then seen to address himself
to what fate had in store for him. We watched him for a few moments, and
then saw him drop. Out of the shadow of the fall he presently emerged,
dropping from terrace to terrace, precipitated down, then whirled round,
caught by great heavy waves, which whisked him to right and left, and
struck madly at him, and yet his canoe did not sink, but he and it were
swept behind the lower end of the island, and then darkness fell upon
the day of horror. Nine men lost in one afternoon!
This last accident, I was told, was caused by the faithlessness of the
crew. One man, utterly unnerved by his fear of the river, ran away and
hid in the bushes; the two others lost their hold of the tow-ropes, and
thus their comrade was carried into the swift centre.
_Mar. 30._—On the 30th of March a messenger was despatched to Frank to
superintend the transport of the goods overland to where I had arrived
with the boat. The natives continued to be very amiable, and food was
abundant and cheap. They visited our camp from morning to night,
bringing their produce from a great distance. They are a very gentle and
harmless tribe the Western Bateké, and distinguishable by four
cicatrices down each cheek. They are also remarkable for their numerous
bird-snares—bird lime being furnished by the _Ficus sycamorus_—and
traps. About sunset a wide-spreading flock of large birds like parrots
passed north-east over our camp, occupying nearly half an hour in
passing. They were at too great an altitude to be recognized. Lead-
coloured water-snakes were very numerous, the largest being about 7 feet
in length and 2½ inches in diameter.
Confined within the deep narrow valley of the river, the hills rising to
the height of about 800 feet above us, and exposed to the continued
uproar of the river, we became almost stunned during our stay of the
31st.
_April 1._—On the 1st of April we cleared the Kalulu Falls, and camped
on the right bank below them. Our two absentees on the left side had
followed us, and were signalling frequently to us, but we were helpless.
The next day we descended a mile and a half of rapids, and in the
passage one more canoe was lost, which reduced our flotilla to thirteen
vessels.
About 2 P.M., to the general joy, appeared young Soudi and our two
absentees, who the day before had been signalling us from the opposite
side of the river!
Soudi’s adventures had been very strange. He had been swept down over
the upper and lower Kalulu Falls and the intermediate rapids, and had
been whirled round so often that he became confused. “But clinging to my
canoe,” he said, “the wild river carried me down and down, and down from
place to place, sometimes near a rock, and sometimes near the middle of
the stream, until an hour after dark, when I saw it was near a rock; I
jumped out, and, catching my canoe, drew it on shore. I had scarcely
finished when my arms were seized, and I was bound by two men, who
hurried me up to the top of the mountain, and then for an hour over the
high land, until we came to a village. They then pushed me into a house,
where they lit a fire, and when it was bright they stripped me naked and
examined me. Though I pretended not to understand them, I knew enough to
know that they were proud of their prize. They spoke kindly to me, and
gave me plenty to eat; and while one of them slept, the other watched
sharp lest I should run away. In the morning it was rumoured over the
village that a handsome slave was captured from a strange tribe, and
many people came to see me, one of whom had seen us at Ntamo and
recognized me. This man immediately charged the two men with having
stolen one of the white man’s men, and he drew such a picture of you,
master, with large eyes of fire and long hair, who owned a gun that shot
all day, that all the people became frightened, and compelled the two
men to take me back to where they had found me. They at once returned me
my clothes, and brought me to the place near where I had tied my canoe.
They then released me, saying, ‘Go to your king; here is food for you;
and do not tell him what we have done to you; but tell him you met
friends who saved you, and it shall be well with us.’”
The other two men, seeking for means to cross the river, met Soudi
sitting by his canoe. The three became so encouraged at one another’s
presence that they resolved to cross the river rather than endure
further anxiety in a strange land. Despair gave them courage, and though
the river was rapid, they succeeded in crossing a mile below the place
they had started from, without accident.
_April 3._—On the 3rd of April we descended another mile and a half of
dangerous rapids, during which several accidents occurred. One canoe was
upset which contained fifty tusks of ivory and a sack of beads. Four men
had narrow escapes from drowning, but Uledi, my coxswain, saved them. I
myself tumbled headlong into a small basin, and saved myself with
difficulty from being swept away by the receding tide.
Our system of progress was to begin each day with Frank leading the
Expedition overland to a camp at the head of some inlet, cove, or
recess, near rapids or falls, where, with the older men, women, and
children, he constructed a camp; the working party, consisting of the
younger men, returning to assist me with the canoes down to the new
camp. Anxious for the safety of the people, I superintended the river
work myself, and each day led the way in the boat. On approaching rapids
I selected three or four of the boat’s crew (and always Uledi, the
coxswain), and clambered along the great rocks piled along the base of
the steeply sloping hills, until I had examined the scene. If the rapids
or fall were deemed impassable by water, I planned the shortest and
safest route across the projecting points, and then, mustering the
people, strewed a broad track with bushes, over which, as soon as
completed, we set to work to haul our vessels beyond the dangerous
water, when we lowered them into the water, and pursued our way to camp,
where Frank would be ready to give me welcome, and such a meal as the
country afforded.
At Gamfwé’s the natives sold us abundance of bread, or rolls of pudding,
of cassava flour, maize, cassava leaves, water-cresses, and a small
Strychnos fruit and, for the first time, lemons. Fowls were very dear,
and a goat was too expensive a luxury in our now rapidly impoverishing
state.
_April 8._—On the 8th we descended from Gamfwé’s to “Whirlpool Narrows,”
opposite Umvilingya. When near there we perceived that the eddy tides,
which rushed up river along the bank, required very delicate and skilful
manœuvring. I experimented on the boat first, and attempted to haul her
by cables round a rocky point from the bay near Whirlpool Narrows. Twice
they snapped ropes and cables, and the second time the boat flew up
river, borne on the crests of brown waves, with only Uledi and two men
in her. Presently she wheeled into the bay, following the course of the
eddy, and Uledi brought her in-shore. The third time we tried the
operation with six cables of twisted rattan, about 200 feet in length,
with five men to each cable. The rocks rose singly in precipitous masses
50 feet above the river, and this extreme height increased the
difficulty and rendered footing precarious, for furious eddies of past
pages had drilled deep circular pits, like ovens, in them, 4, 6, even 10
feet deep. However, with the utmost patience we succeeded in rounding
these enormous blocks, and hauling the boat against the uneasy eddy tide
to where the river resumed its natural downward flow. Below this, as I
learned, were some two miles of boisterous water; but mid-river, though
foaming in places, was not what we considered dangerous. We therefore
resolved to risk it in mid-stream, and the boat’s crew, never backward
when they knew what lay in front of them, manned the boat, and in
fifteen minutes we had taken her into a small creek near Umvilingya’s
landing, which ran up river between a ridge of rocks and the right bank.
This act instilled courage into the canoe-men, and the boat-boys having
voluntered to act as steersmen, with Frank as leader, all manned the
canoes next morning, and succeeded in reaching my camp in good time
without accident, though one canoe was taken within 200 yards of Round
Island Falls, between Isameh’s and Umvilingya’s.
At this place Frank and I treated ourselves to a pig, which we purchased
from the chief Umvilingya for four cloths, we having been more than two
weeks without meat.
_April 10._—On the 10th, having, because of illness, entrusted the boat
to Manwa Sera and Uledi, they managed to get her jammed between two
rocks near the entrance to Gavubu’s Cove, and, as the after-section was
sunk for a time, it appeared that the faithful craft would be lost here
after her long and wonderful journey. Springing from my bed upon hearing
of the threatened calamity, I mustered twenty active men and hastened to
the scene, and soon, by inspiring every man to do his best, we were able
to lift her out of her dangerous position, and take her to camp
apparently uninjured.
_April 11._—The lower end of Gavubu’s Cove was reached on the 11th, and
the next day by noon the land party and canoes were taken safely to the
lower end of Gamfwé’s Bay. As our means were rapidly diminishing in this
protracted struggle we maintained against the natural obstacles to our
journey, we could only hope to reach the sea by resolute and continual
industry during every hour of daylight. I accordingly instructed the
canoe-men to be ready to follow me, as soon as they should be informed
by a messenger that the boat had safely arrived in camp.
The commencement of “Lady Alice Rapids” was marked by a broad fall, and
an interruption to the rapidly rushing river by a narrow ridgy islet of
great rocks, which caused the obstructed stream to toss its waters in
lateral waves against the centre, where they met waves from the right
bank, and overlapping formed a lengthy dyke of foaming water.
Strong cane cables were lashed to the bow and stern, and three men were
detailed to each, while five men assisted me in the boat. A month’s
experience of this kind of work had made us skilful and bold. But the
rapids were more powerful, the river was much more contracted, and the
impediments were greater than usual. On our right was an upright wall of
massive boulders terminating in a narrow terrace 300 feet high; behind
the terrace, at a little distance, rose the rude hills to the height of
1200 feet above the river; above the hills rolled the table-land. On our
left, 400 yards from the bouldery wall, rose a lengthy and stupendous
cliff line topped by a broad belt of forest, and at its base rose three
rocky islets, one below another, against which the river dashed itself,
disparting with a roaring surge.
We had scarcely ventured near the top of the rapids when, by a careless
slackening of the stern cable, the current swept the boat from the hands
of that portion of her crew whose duty it was to lower her carefully and
cautiously down the fall, to the narrow line of ebb flood below the
rocky projection. Away into the centre of the angry, foaming, billowy
stream the boat darted, dragging one man into the maddened flood, to
whom, despite our awful position, I was able to lend a hand and lift
into the boat.
“Oars, my boys, and be steady! Uledi, to the helm!” were all the
instructions I was able to shout, after which, standing at the bow of
the boat, I guided the coxswain with my hand; for now, as we rode
downwards furiously on the crests of the proud waves, the human voice
was weak against the overwhelming thunder of the angry river. Oars were
only useful to assist the helm, for we were flying at a terrific speed
past the series of boulders which strangled the river. Never did the
rocks assume such hardness, such solemn grimness and bigness, never were
they invested with such terrors and such grandeur of height, as while we
were the cruel sport and prey of the brown-black waves, which whirled us
round like a spinning top, swung us aside, almost engulfed us in the
rapidly subsiding troughs, and then hurled us upon the white, rageful
crests of others. Ah! with what feelings we regarded this awful power
which the great river had now developed! How we cringed under its
imperious, compelling, and irresistible force! What lightning
retrospects we cast upon our past lives! How impotent we felt before it!
“La il Allah, il Allah!” screamed young Mabruki. “We are lost!—yes, we
are lost!”
After two miles we were abreast of the bay, or indentation, at which we
had hoped to camp, but the strong river mocked our efforts to gain it.
The flood was resolved we should taste the bitterness of death. A sudden
rumbling noise, like the deadened sound of an earthquake, caused us to
look below, and we saw the river heaved bodily upward, as though a
volcano was about to belch around us. Up to the summit of this watery
mound we were impelled; and then, divining what was about to take place,
I shouted out, “Pull, men, for your lives!” A few frantic strokes drove
us to the lower side of the mound, and before it had finished subsiding,
and had begun its usual fatal circling, we were precipitated over a
small fall, and sweeping down towards the inlet into which the Nkenké
Cataract tumbled, below the lowest lines of breakers of the Lady Alice
Rapids. Once or twice we were flung scornfully aside, and spun around
contemptuously, as though we were too insignificant to be wrecked; then,
availing ourselves of a calm moment, we resumed our oars, and soon
entering the ebb-tide, rowed up river and reached the sandy beach at the
junction of the Nkenké with the Livingstone. Arriving on shore, I
despatched Uledi and young Shumari to run to meet the despairing people
above, who had long before this been alarmed by the boat-boys, whose
carelessness had brought about this accident, and by the sympathizing
natives who had seen us, as they reported, sink in the whirlpools. In
about an hour a straggling line of anxious souls appeared; and all that
love of life and living things, with the full sense of the worth of
living, returned to my heart, as my faithful followers rushed up one
after another with their exuberant welcome to life which gushed out of
them in gesture, feature, and voice. And Frank, my amiable and trusty
Frank, was neither last nor least in his professions of love and
sympathy, and gratitude to Him who had saved us from a watery grave.
The land party then returned with Frank to remove the goods to our new
camp, and by night my tent was pitched within a hundred yards of the
cataract mouth of the Nkenké. We had four cataracts in view of us: the
great river which emptied itself into the bay-like expanse from the last
line of the Lady Alice Rapids; two miles below, the river fell again, in
a foamy line of waves; from the tall cliffs south of us tumbled a river
400 feet into the great river; and on our right, 100 yards off, the
Nkenké rushed down steeply like an enormous cascade from the height of
1000 feet. The noise of the Nkenké torrent resembled the roar of an
express train over an iron bridge; that of Cataract River, taking its
400-feet leap from the cliffs, was like the rumble of distant thunder;
the “Lady Alice’s” last line of breakers, and its fuming and fretting
flanks, was heard only as the swash of waves against a ship’s prow when
driven by a spanking breeze against a cross sea; while the cataract
below lent its dull boom to swell the chorus of angry and falling
rivers, which filled our ears with their terrific uproar.
Very different was this scene of towering cliffs and lofty mountain
walls, which daily discharged the falling streams from the vast uplands
above and buried us within the deafening chasm, to that glassy flow of
the Livingstone by the black eerie forests of Usongora Meno and Kasera,
and through the upper lands of the cannibal Wenya, where a single
tremulous wave was a rarity. We now, surrounded by the daily terrors and
hope-killing shocks of these apparently endless cataracts, and the loud
boom of their baleful fury, remembered, with regretful hearts, the
Sabbath stillness and dreamy serenity of those days. Beautiful was it
then to glide among the lazy creeks of the spicy and palm-growing isles,
where the broad-leafed Amomum vied in greenness with the drooping fronds
of the Phrynium, where the myrrh and bdellium shrubs exhaled their
fragrance side by side with the wild cassia, where the capsicum with its
red-hot berries rose in embowering masses, and the Ipomœa’s purple buds
gemmed with colour the tall stem of some sturdy tree. Environed by most
dismal prospects, for ever dinned by terrific sound, at all points
confronted by the most hopeless outlook, we think that an Eden which we
have left behind, and this a watery hell wherein we now are.
[Illustration: THE NKENKÉ RIVER ENTERING THE LIVINGSTONE BELOW THE LADY
ALICE RAPIDS.]
Though our involuntary descent of the Lady Alice Rapids from Gamfwé’s
Bay to Nkenké River Bay—a distance of three miles—occupied us but
fifteen minutes, it was a work of four days, viz. from the 13th to the
16th inclusive, to lower the canoes by cables. Experience of the vast
force of the flood, and the brittleness of the rattan cables, had
compelled us to fasten eight cables to each canoe, and to detail five
men to each cable for the passage of the rapids. Yet, with all our
precautions, almost each hour was marked with its special accident to
man or canoe. One canoe, with a man named Nubi in it, was torn from the
hands of forty men, swept down two miles, and sunk in the great
whirlpool. Nubi clung to his vessel, until taken down a second time,
when he and the canoe were ejected fifty yards apart, but being an
expert swimmer he regained it in the Nkenké basin, and astride of its
keel was circling round with the strong ebb tide, when he was saved by
the dashing Uledi and his young brother Shumari.
While returning to my labours along the bouldery heap which lined the
narrow terrace opposite the islets, I observed another canoe, which
contained the chief Wadi Rehani and two of my boat-bearers, Chiwonda and
Muscati, drifting down helplessly near the verge of some slack water.
The three men were confused, and benumbed with terror at the roar and
hissing of the rapids. Being comparatively close to them, on the edge of
a high crag, I suddenly shot out my voice with the full power of my
lungs, in sharp, quick accents of command to paddle ashore, and the
effect was wonderful. It awoke them like soldiers to the call of duty,
and after five minutes’ energetic use of their paddles they were saved.
I have often been struck at the power of a quick, decisive tone. It
appears to have an electric effect, riding rough-shod over all fears,
indecision, and tremor, and, just as in this instance, I had frequently
up river, when the people were inclined to get panic-stricken, or to
despair, restored them to a sense of duty by affecting the sharp-
cutting, steel-like, and imperious tone of voice, which seemed to be as
much of a compelling power as powder to a bullet. But it should be
remembered that a too frequent use of it spoils its effect.
[Illustration: “LADY ALICE” OVER THE FALLS.]
_April 18._—On the 18th we descended from Nkenké Bay to a lengthy
indentation behind two islands above Msumbula. In shooting the rapids
one canoe was wrecked, but fortunately a large canoe which had been lost
up river was recovered by paying a small present to the amiable Bateké
fishermen. At this camp we discovered that our people were robbing me in
the most shameless manner, and I was indebted for this discovery to
Frank, whose duty as camp-keeper and leader of the land party gave him
opportunities for detecting the rapid diminution of our stores. A search
was instituted without warning, and a hundredweight or two of purloined
beads and shells were discovered. The boldest thief, fearing punishment,
absconded, and never returned.
_April 19, 21._—The next day, after Frank had transported the goods and
moved his party to a new camp, we descended two miles of dangerous
rapids and whirlpools, and on the 20th I led the way in my boat and
proceeded a distance of four miles, forming camp behind some small
islets, near which the river expanded to a width of about eight hundred
yards. By three in the afternoon the land party had also arrived. On the
21st we dropped down, without difficulty, a distance of two miles, and
camped for the first time in Babwendé territory.
Nsangu, a village of the Basessé, was opposite, crowning with its palms
and fields a hilly terrace, projected from the mountain range, at whose
richly wooded slopes or cliffy front, based with a long line of great
boulders, we each day looked from the right bank of the river. The
villagers sent a deputation to us with palm-wine and a small gift of
cassava tubers. Upon asking them if there were any more cataracts they
replied that there was only one, and they exaggerated it so much that
the very report struck terror and dismay into, our people. They
described it as falling from a height greater than the position on which
their village was situated, which drew exclamations of despair from my
followers. I, on the other hand, rather rejoiced at this, as I believed
it might be “Tuckey’s Cataract,” which seemed to be eternally receding
as we advanced. While the Bateké above had constantly held out
flattering prospects of “only one more” cataract, I had believed that
one to be Tuckey’s Cataract, because map-makers have laid down a great
navigable reach of river between Tuckey’s upper cataract and the Yellala
Falls—hence our object in clinging to the river, despite all obstacles,
until that ever-receding cataract was reached.
The distance we had laboured through from the 16th of March to the 21st
of April inclusive, a period of thirty-seven days, was only 34 miles!
Since the Basessé fishermen, “who ought to know” we said, declared there
was only this tremendous cataract, with a fall of several hundred feet,
below us, we resolved to persevere until we had passed it.
_April 22, 23._—During the 22nd and 23rd we descended from opposite
Nsangu, a distance of five miles, to below Rocky Island Falls, and
during the three following days we were engaged in the descent of a six-
mile stretch, which enabled us to approach the “terrific” falls
described by the Basessé at Nsangu. Arriving at camp with my canoe
party, I instantly took my boat’s crew and explored the ground. The
“Falls” are called Inkisi, or the “Charm”; they have no clear drop, but
the river, being forced through a chasm only 500 yards wide, is flanked
by curling waves of destructive fury, which meet in the centre, overlap,
and strike each other, while below is an absolute chaos of mad waters,
leaping waves, deep troughs, contending watery ridges, tumbling and
tossing for a distance of two miles. The commencement of this gorge is a
lengthy island which seems to have been a portion or slice of the table-
land fallen flat, as it were, from a height of 1000 feet. More
geologically speaking, it is a mile-long fragment of the gneissic
substructure of the table-land which appears to have suddenly subsided,
retaining its original horizontal stratification. On the sides, however,
the heaps of ruin, thick slabs, and blocks of trap rock bear witness to
that sudden collapsing from beneath which undoubtedly formed this chasm.
The natives above Inkisi descended from their breezy homes on the table-
land to visit the strangers. They were burning to know what we intended
to do to extricate ourselves from the embarrassing position in which we
found ourselves before these falls. I had already explored the ground
personally twice over, and had planned a dozen ways to get over the
tremendous obstacle. I had also ascended to the table-land to take a
more general view of the situation. Before replying to their questions,
I asked if there was another cataract below. “No,” said they, “at least
only a little one, which you can pass without trouble.”
“Ah,” thought I to myself, “this great cataract then must be Tuckey’s
Cataract, and the ‘little one,’ I suppose, was too contemptible an
affair to be noticed, or perhaps it was covered over by high water, for
map-makers have a clear, wide—three miles wide—stream to the falls of
Yellala. Good! I will haul my canoes up the mountain and pass over the
table-land, as I must now cling to this river to the end, having
followed it so long.”
My resolution was soon communicated to my followers, who looked
perfectly blank at the proposition. The natives heard me, and, seeing
the silence and reluctance of the people, they asked the cause, and I
told them it was because I intended to drag our vessels up the mountain.
“Up the mountain!” they repeated, turning their eyes towards the
towering height, which was shagged with trees and bristling with crags
and hill fragments, with an unspeakable look of horror. They appeared to
fancy the world was coming to an end, or some unnatural commotion would
take place, for they stared at me with lengthened faces. Then, without a
word, they climbed the stiff ascent of 1200 feet, and securing their
black pigs, fowls, or goats in their houses, spread the report far and
wide that the white man intended to fly his canoes over the mountains.
On the other hand, the amiable Basessé, on the left table-land across
the river, had gathered in hundreds on the cliffs overlooking the Inkisi
Falls, in expectation of seeing a catastrophe, which certainly would
have been worth seeing had we been so suicidally inclined as to venture
over the falls in our canoes—for that undoubtedly was their idea. It was
strange with what poor wits the aborigines of these new and exhumed
regions credited us. These people believed we should be guilty of this
last freak of madness just as the Wana Mpungu believed we should blindly
stumble into their game-nets, and the Wy-yanzi of Chumbiri believed
that, having been cheated out of 300 dollars’ worth of goods, we should,
upon the mere asking, be cheated again. Indeed, I observe that, wherever
I go, savage and civilized man alike are too apt to despise each other
at first, and that, when finally awakened to some sense of consideration
for each other, they proceed to the other extreme, and invest one
another with more attributes than they really possess.
Having decided upon the project, it only remained to make a road and to
begin, but in order to obtain the assistance of the aborigines, which I
was anxious for in order to relieve my people from much of the fatigue,
the first day all hands were mustered for road making. Our numerous
axes, which we had purchased in Manyema and in Uregga, came into very
efficient use now, for, by night, a bush-strewn path 1500 yards in
length had been constructed.
_April 26._—By 8 A.M. of the 26th our exploring-boat and a small canoe
were on the summit of the table-land at a new camp we had formed. As the
feat was performed without ostentation and, it need not be told, without
any unnatural commotion or event—the pigs had not been frightened, the
fowls had not cackled uneasily, goats had not disappeared, women had not
given birth to monsters—the native chiefs were in a state of agreeable
wonder and complimentary admiration of our industry suitable for the
commencement of negotiations, and after an hour’s “talk” and convivial
drinking of palm-wine they agreed, for a gift of forty cloths, to bring
six hundred men to assist us to haul up the monster canoes we possessed,
two or three of which were of heavy teak, over 70 feet in length, and
weighing over three tons. A large number of my men were then detailed to
cut rattan canes as a substitute for ropes, and as many were brittle and
easily broken, this involved frequent delays. Six men under Kachéché
were also despatched overland to a distance of ten miles to explore the
river, and to prepare the natives for our appearance.
_April 28._—By the evening of the 28th all our vessels were safe on the
highest part of the table-land. Having become satisfied that all was
going well in camp, and that Manwa Sera and his men were capable of
superintending it, with the aid of the natives, I resolved to take Frank
and the boat’s crew, women, and children, and goods of the Expedition,
to the frontier of Nzabi, and establish a camp near the river, at a
point where we should again resume our toil in the deep defile through
which the mighty river stormed along its winding course.
The Babwendé natives were exceeding friendly, even more so than the
amiable Bateké. Gunpowder was abundant with them, and every male capable
of carrying a gun possessed one, often more. Delft ware and British
crockery were also observed in their hands, such as plates, mugs,
shallow dishes, wash-basins, galvanized iron spoons, Birmingham cutlery,
and other articles of European manufacture obtained through the native
markets, which are held in an open space between each district. For
example, Nzabi district holds a market on a Monday, and Babwendé from
Zinga, Mowa farther down, and Inkisi, and Basessé, from across the river
attend, as there is a ferry below Zinga, and articles such as European
salt, gunpowder, guns, cloth, crockery, glass, and iron ware, of which
the currency consists, are bartered for produce such as ground-nuts,
palm-oil, palm-nuts, palm-wine, cassava bread and tubers, yams, maize,
sugar-cane, beans, native earthenware, onions, lemons, bananas, guavas,
sweet limes, pine-apples, black pigs, goats, fowls, eggs, ivory, and a
few slaves, who are generally Batekéé or Northern Basundi. On Tuesday
the district above Inkisi Falls holds its market, at which Mowa, Nzabi,
and the district above Inkisi attend. On Wednesday the Umvilingya,
Lemba, and Nsangu districts hold a market. On Thursday most of the
Babwendé cross the river over to Nsangu, and the Basessé have the honour
of holding a market on their own soil. On Friday the market is again
held at Nzabi, and the series runs its course in the same order. Thus,
without trading caravans or commercial expeditions, the aborigines of
these districts are well supplied with almost all they require without
the trouble and danger of proceeding to the coast. From district to
district, market to market, and hand to hand, European fabrics and wares
are conveyed along both sides of the rivers, and along the paths of
traffic, until finally the districts of Ntamo, Nkunda, and Nshasa obtain
them. These then man their large canoes and transfer them to Ibaka,
Misongo, Chumbiri, and Bolobo, and purchase ivory, and now and then a
slave, while Ibaka, Misongo, Chumbiri, and Bolobo transport the European
fabrics and wares to Irebu, Mompurengi, Ubangi, and Ikengo, and Ikengo
conveys them to the fierce Bangala, and the Bangala to the Marunja,
Mpakiwana, Urangi, Rubunga in Nganza Gunji, and finally to Upoto—the
present ultimate reach of anything arriving from the west coast. By this
mode of traffic a keg of powder landed at Funta, Ambriz, Ambrizette, or
Kinsembo, requires about five years to reach the Bangala. The first
musket was landed in Angola in about the latter part of the fifteenth
century, for Diogo Cão only discovered the mouth of the Congo in 1485.
It has taken 390 years for four muskets to arrive at Rubunga in Nganza,
965 miles from Point de Padrão, where Diogo Cão erected his memorial
column in honour of the discovery of the Congo.
We discovered cloth to be so abundant amongst the Babwendé that it was
against our conscience to purchase even a fowl, for naturally the nearer
we approached civilization cloth became cheaper in value, until finally
a fowl cost four yards of our thick sheeting! Frank and I therefore
lived upon the same provisions as our people. Our store of sugar had run
out in Uregga, our coffee was finished at Vinya Njara, and at Inkisi
Falls our tea, alas! alas! came to an end. To guard against
contingencies—for I thought it possible that, however desperately we
strove to proceed towards the Western Ocean, we might have been
compelled to return to Nyangwé—I had left at Nyangwé, in charge of Abed
bin Salem, three tins of tea and a few other small things. At this
juncture, how we wished for them!
Yet we could have well parted with a large stock of tea, coffee, and
sugar in order to obtain a pair of shoes apiece. Though I had kept one
pair of worn-out shoes by me, my last new pair had been put on in the
jungles of doleful Uregga, and now six weeks’ rough wear over the gritty
iron and clink-stone, trap, and granite blocks along the river had
ground through soles and uppers, until I began to feel anxious. As for
Frank, he had been wearing sandals made out of my leather portmanteaus,
and slippers out of our gutta-percha pontoon; but climbing over the
rocks and rugged steeps wore them to tatters in such quick succession,
that it was with the utmost difficulty that I was enabled, by appealing
to the pride of the white man, to induce him to persevere in the
manufacture of sandals for his own use. Frequently, on suddenly arriving
in camp from my wearying labours, I would discover him with naked feet,
and would reprove him for shamelessly exposing his white feet to the
vulgar gaze of the aborigines! In Europe this would not be considered
indelicate, but in barbarous Africa the feet should be covered as much
as the body; for there is a small modicum of superiority shown even in
clothing the feet. Not only on moral grounds did I urge him to cover his
feet, but also for his own comfort and health; for the great cataract
gorge and table-land above it, besides abounding in ants, mosquitoes,
and vermin, are infested with three dangerous insects, which prey upon
the lower limbs of man—the “jigga” from Brazil, the guinea-worm, and an
entozoon, which, depositing its eggs in the muscles, produces a number
of short, fat worms and severe tumours. I also discovered, from the
examples in my camp, that the least abrasion of the skin was likely, if
not covered, to result in an ulcer. My own person testified to this, for
an injury to the thumb of my left hand, injured by a fall on the rocks
at Gamfwé’s, had culminated in a painful wound, which I daily
cauterized; but though bathed, burned, plastered, and bandaged twice a
day, I had been at this time a sufferer for over a month.
At this period we were all extremely liable to disease, for our system
was impoverished. Four of my people suffered from chronic dysentery and
eight from large and painful ulcers; the itch disease was rabid—about a
dozen of the men were fearful objects of its virulence, though they were
not incapacited from duty—and there were two victims of a low fever
which no medicine seemed to relieve.
In the absence of positive knowledge as to how long we might be toiling
in the cataracts, we were all compelled to be extremely economical. Goat
and pig meat were such luxuries that we declined to think of them as
being possible with our means; tea, coffee, sugar, sardines, were fast
receding into the memory-land of past pleasures, and chickens had
reached such prices that they were rare in our camp. We possessed one
ram from far Uregga, and Mirambo, the black riding-ass—the other two
asses had died a few weeks before—but we should have deserved the name
of cannibals had we dared to think of sacrificing the pets of the camp.
Therefore—by the will of the gods—contentment had to be found in boiled
“duff,” or cold cassava bread, ground-nuts, or pea-nuts, yams, and green
bananas. To make such strange food palatable was an art that we
possessed in a higher degree than our poor comrades. They were supplied
with the same materials as we ourselves, but the preparation was
different. My dark followers simply dried their cassava, and then
pounding it made the meal into porridge. Ground-nuts they threw into the
ashes, and when sufficiently baked ate them like hungry men.
For me such food was too crude: besides, my stomach, called to sustain a
brain and body strained to the utmost by responsibilities, required that
some civility should be shown to it. Necessity roused my faculties, and
a jaded stomach goaded my inventive powers to a high pitch. I called my
faithful cook, told him to clean and wash mortar and pestle for the
preparation of a “high art” dish. Frank approached also to receive
instructions, so that, in my absence, he might remind Marzouk, the cook,
of each particular. First we rinsed in clear cold brook-water from the
ravines some choice cassava or manioc tops, and these were placed in the
water to be bruised. Marzouk understood this part very well, and soon
pounded them to the consistence of a green porridge. To this I then
added fifty shelled nuts of the _Arachis hypogœa_, three small specimens
of the _Dioscorea alata_ boiled and sliced cold, a tablespoonful of oil
extracted from the _Arachis hypogœa_, a tablespoonful of wine of the
_Elais Guineensis_, a little salt, and sufficient powdered capsicum.
This imposing and admirable mixture was pounded together, fried, and
brought into the tent, along with toasted cassava pudding, hot and
steaming, on the only Delft plate we possessed. Within a few minutes our
breakfast was spread out on the medicine chest which served me for a
table, and at once a keen appetite was inspired by the grateful smell of
my artful compound. After invoking a short blessing, Frank and I
rejoiced our souls and stomachs with the savoury mess, and flattered
ourselves that, though British paupers and Sing-Sing convicts might fare
better perhaps, thankful content crowned our hermit repast.