Glorious timber—Cutting canoes—Frank suffers from ulcers—The episode of
the fetished axe—Rain-gauge readings—The rise of the river—“Goee-
Goees”—The _Lady Alice_ breached for the first time—A painful
discovery: Uledi’s theft—His trial and release—The burning of
Shakespeare—The bees of Massassa—Local superstitions—Frank’s cheery
character.
_April 29._—On the morning of the 29th of April, after giving the
necessary instructions to Manwa Sera and his brother chiefs, and
obtaining the promise of the Babwendé elders that they would do their
utmost to help in transporting the vessels over the three miles of
ground between Inkisi Falls and Nzabi, I led the caravan, loaded with
the goods, down to a cove at the upper end of Nzabi. After erecting a
rude camp, the more active men were directed to reascend the table-land
to their duty, and in the afternoon two men were despatched to the old
chief of Nzabi, desiring him to come and visit me. Meanwhile I explored
a thick forest of tall trees, that flourished to an immense height along
a narrow terrace, and up the steep slopes of Nzabi. For though cliffs
were frequent on the left side of the river, a steep wooded slope
distinguished the right side, especially along the whole front of Nzabi.
As I wandered about among the gigantic trees, the thought struck me
that, while the working parties and natives were hauling our vessels a
distance of three miles over the table-land, a new canoe might be built
to replace one of the nine which had been lost; but in order to obviate
any rupture with our new friends, I resolved to wait until the next day,
when the subject could be broached to the king.
Meanwhile, with Uledi, the coxswain, young Shumari, his brother, and
their cousin Saywa, I went about, tape-line in hand, surveying the
glorious timber, and from my note-book I take the following particulars,
jotted down during the ramble:—
“Three specimens of cotton-wood. The largest, close to the cove,
measured in girth 13 feet 6 inches; trunk unbranched for about 60 feet;
its cotton used as tinder by the Babwendé. Eight specimens of the
_Bassia Parkii_—or Shea butter-tree; bark rough, and 1½ inch thick;
exudes a yellowish-white sticky matter, which my boat-boys called its
“milk”: splendid timber, core dark and very hard; outside wood from two
to three inches deep and whiter, easily worked; largest measured 12 feet
round; height of unbranched stem, 55 feet: others measured 10, 11·9, 10
and 10½ feet. Ten specimens of the _Ficus Kotschyana_—or Mku, as Uledi
called it; bark half an inch thick; largest, 13 feet in girth. Many
specimens of African silver beech, African ash, wild olive, _Zygia_ sp.,
or Mkundi—largest, 24 feet circumferential measurement—acacia, catechu
(?), _Grewia_ sp., Mkuma; good timber tree, for small canoes. A glorious
_Tamarindus Indica_, with amplitude of crown branching far, and dense; 9
feet round. Several specimens of Rubiaceæ and Sterculiaceæ, candleberry-
tree, the _Lophira alata_, Balsomodendrons, _Landolphia florida_ (?), an
india-rubber-producing creeper in very large numbers. Proteas, several
Loranthaceæ, ivory button or nut-trees, wild betel, _Anacardium
occidentale_, or cashew-tree, cola-nut-tree, wild mango-tree, _Jatropha
curcas_ (physic-nut tree), Kigelias, several _Acacia Arabicas_ near the
river, within a few feet of the cove, and other gums. _Euphorbia
antiquorum_ and _E. Caput-Medusæ_ on the craggy ground above the cove.
Orchids upon humus-covered granite fragments, and far aloft in the forks
of trees; as well as several species of ferns and aloes, and wild pine-
apples upon the rock-strewn slopes.”
Though there were a number of large and noble trees to choose from, I
fixed upon a species of Burseraceæ, Boswellia, or gum-frankincense tree,
10 feet round at the base, and with 40 feet of branchless stem, which
grew about a hundred yards from our camp. We “blazed” very many of the
largest species with our hatchets, in order to discover the most
suitable for lightness and softness, with sufficient strength, and the
“ubani” or “lubani” as the Wangwana called it was pronounced the best. I
discovered that the largest trees grew on the narrow terrace, which was
from one hundred to two hundred yards wide, and about forty feet above
the river; but this Boswellia grew about fifty yards above the terrace
on the slope; from this the slope rose to the height of 1000 feet, at an
angle of 45°, densely covered along its whole length with magnificent
timber.
_April 30._—The next day the chief came. He was a fine genial old man,
bald-headed and jovial-featured; and would have made an admirable Uncle
Tom. It was not long before we perfectly understood each other. He gave
me permission to choose any of the largest trees in his country, and
promised to visit me each day while in the cove. Meanwhile, as an
earnest of his friendship, he begged my acceptance of a gourdful of
palm-wine, and some ripe plantains, guavas, and papaws.
_May 1._—On the 1st May, Uledi, with a cry of “Bismillah!” at the first
blow, struck his axe into the tree, and two others chimed in, and in two
hours, with a roaring crash which made the deep gorge of the river
return a thundering echo, the ubani fell; but, alas! it fell across a
gigantic granite rock, about thirty feet square. And then began the work
of rolling the great tree by means of enormous levers, with cables of
ficus attached to the end, and the suspended weight of fifteen people,
and by noon, to the astonishment of the natives, it was lengthways along
the ground. I measured out the log, 37 feet 5 inches; depth, 2 feet;
breadth, 2 feet 8 inches, and out of this we carved the _Stanley_ canoe,
in place of the unfortunate _Stanley_ which had been irretrievably lost
on the 1st of April. In order to ensure both speed and systematic work,
each of the boat’s crew, who were now converted into shipbuilders, was
allotted 3½ feet as his share, with a promise of reward proportionate to
the skill and energy which he displayed. It was refreshing to see,
during the whole time he was employed on it, how Uledi swung his axe
like a proficient workman who loved his work. He never gave a half-
hearted stroke, but drove his axe into the tree with a vigour which was
delightful to regard, eliciting the admiration of the aborigines, who
would stand round us for hours wondering at the fact that there lived a
man who could thus lend every fibre of his body to mere work, and was an
enthusiast to duty. On the 8th the canoe was finished, except for a few
finishing touches, which were entrusted to the chief carpenter of the
Expedition, Salaam Allah.
Having yet a few days to spare, we cut another huge tree down—a teak—to
replace the little _Jason_ that Soudi Turu had lost at Kalulu Falls,
which occupied us until the 16th, with fifteen men employed. It
measured, when completed, 45 feet long, 2 feet 2 inches beam, and 18
inches deep, and was flat-bottomed, after the model of the Wyyanzi
canoes.
[Illustration: THE NEW CANOES, THE “LIVINGSTONE” AND THE “STANLEY.”]
_May 15._—In the meantime Manwa Sera was steadily advancing each day
from 500 to 800 yards, according to the nature of the ground, and by the
evening of the 15th was in our camp to receive a hearty meed of praise
for the completion of his task. It was singular, however, how quickly
the people became demoralized the moment I turned away. The natives
brought various complaints of robbery of fowls and spoliation of cassava
gardens against them, and one, Saburi Rehani, was a prisoner in their
hands, or, in other words, was liable to be sold by them unless redeemed
by me. I spent an entire day in the negotiation of his freedom, but
finally he was purchased by me for 150 dollars’ worth of cloth, which
most wofully diminished my stock. Naturally this excessive price paid
for the release of a thief drew most energetic threats from me should
any crime of this nature be repeated. But my men had borne themselves in
the most admirable manner since leaving Uguha, and, after crossing
through a furnace of fire side by side with me, it would have been
unnatural for me to have judged them very severely. At the same time the
evil-dispositioned were not to be allowed to sacrifice the lives of
their fellows either by slow hunger or in violent conflicts for their
sakes. Frequent redemptions of thieves from the hands of those they had
spoliated would at this period have ended in beggary and starvation. It
was therefore explained, for the fiftieth time, that persons arrested by
the natives while in the act of stealing would be left in their hands.
_May 16._—During the afternoon of the 16th we embarked the goods, and
the canoe-men, skirting the base of the rocky line, descended one mile
to Nzabi Creek, which proved a calm haven, separated from the river by a
rugged line of massive blocks, and after we had entered by the narrow
entrance we obtained a view of the wide mouth of a ravine, which was
like a deep indentation in the mountain line. From base to summit the
table-land was wooded, and very many noble bombax and straight-shafted
teaks rose above the grove in this happy and picturesque mountain fold.
After such a gigantic task as that of hauling the canoes up 1200 feet of
a steep slope, and over three miles of ground, and then lowering them
1200 feet into the river again, the people deserved a rest. In the
meantime, as absolute idleness would have been subversive of that energy
which had to characterize us during this period, we set to work cutting
down-a teak-tree, and for this job selected forty men, twenty of whom
were allotted to Frank for nightwork, and twenty I reserved for a day
party. The tree was 13 feet 3 inches in circumference, and when
prostrate we possessed a clear branchless log 55 feet in length.
It was at this period that Frank began to be troubled with a small
pimple on each foot, and even then he neglected the advice I persisted
in giving him to protect them from being tainted by the poisonous fœtor
which flies extracted from the exposed sores of the Wangwana. There was
one poor fellow in our camp named Feruzi who was now in the seventh
month of this virulent disease, and was a frightful object. Both of his
feet were almost in a state of mortification, and the leg bones were
attacked. That part of the camp devoted to the victims of this ulcerous
disease was prudently avoided by the natives, many of whom bore the
scars of ancient ulcers. Safeni, my coxswain on the Victoria Nyanza, and
who was also the second in rank and influence among the chiefs, adopted
a very singular treatment, which I must confess was also wonderfully
successful. This medicine consisted of a mixture of powder of copper and
child’s urine painted over the wound with a feather twice a day, over
which he placed some fine cotton. In six weeks five patients recovered
completely. The Babwendé have recourse to green herb poultices, and some
of their medicines were sold to us for the sick, but I failed to observe
any improvement. One kind, however, which was the powdered core of some
tree, appeared to have a soothing effect.
The old chief of Nzabi informed us, to our astonishment that five falls
were still below us, which he called Njari Nseto, Njari Kwa Mowa, or
river at Mowa, Njari Zinga, or river opposite Zinga, Njari Mbelo, or
Mbelo’s river, and Njari Suki, or Suki’s river, the Babwendé term for
river being Njari.
_May 18._—On the 18th five of our axes required to be repaired, and
Kachéché, who had some days before returned from his explorations below,
and confirmed the news given to us by Nzabi’s chief, was sent above to
the table-land to seek a smithy. As a market-place is like a stock
exchange to the natives of this region, most of the blacksmiths were
absent, and Kachéché had proceeded for a long distance into the
interior, when he came across a tribe north of Nzabi, armed with bows
and arrows, and who were called Bizu-Nseké. A few seconds’ acquaintance
with them sufficed to prove to Kachéché that he had overstepped the
boundaries of the peaceable, and accordingly he and his fellows fled for
their lives, not unquickened by flying arrows. When almost in despair of
discovering a native mechanic, he at last came to a forge between Mowa
and Nzabi, the owner of which undertook the job of repairing the axes.
The blacksmith’s children were playing about close to the anvil while he
was at work, and it happened that a piece of glowing hot iron to be
welded to an axe flew off on being struck and seared a child’s breast,
whereupon the father got into a fearful rage and beat the war-drum,
which soon mustered scores of his countrymen prepared for battle, but as
yet quite ignorant of the cause. Kachéché, however, was a man of tact,
and, knowing himself innocent, folded his hands, and appealed to the
good sense of the people. But the angered father averred that the axe
was fetish, and that as Kachéché had brought the fetished instrument he
was guilty of malevolence, for only the property of an evilly disposed
person could have wrought such hurt to an innocent child. While the
argument was at its height the chief of Nzabi happily appeared on his
way home from Mowa market, and through his influence the affair was
compromised by Kachéché promising to pay fifteen cowries extra to the
blacksmith. Hearty laughing, a convivial drink all round of palm-wine,
hand-shakes, and many terrible stories of fetish wonders dispelled the
little black cloud.
_May 22._—On the 22nd of May the magnificent teak canoe _Livingstone_,
perfectly complete, was launched with the aid of one hundred happy and
good-humoured natives, into the Nzabi Creek, in presence of the Nzabi
chief and his three wives. In order to prove its capacity we embarked
forty-six people, which only brought its gunwales within six inches of
the water. Its measurements were 54 feet in length, 2 feet 4 inches
deep, and 3 feet 2 inches wide. With the completion of this third canoe,
our flotilla now consisted of twelve large canoes and one boat, the
whole being of sufficient capacity to transport the Expedition should we
ever be fortunate enough in arriving at that “Tuckey’s Cataract” of
which I was in search.
The rainy days of this season, which began at the change of the fifth
moon, were as follows:—
1877. Feb. 24 Short shower. │1877. ” 19 Rain during night.
” 27 ” ” │ ” 20 ” ” ”
” 28 ” ” │ ” 21 ” ” ”
March 2 ” ” │ ” 22 ” ” ”
” 5 Severe ” │ ” 23 ” ” ”
” 7 ” ” │ ” 25 Severe ” ”
” 8 6 hours. │ ” 26 ” ” ”
” 9 4 ” │ ” 27 ” ” ”
April 3 } │ ” 28 ” ” ”
” 4 } From 2 to 6 hours’ │ ” 26 ” ” ”
” 5 } showers during the │ May 1 ” ” morning.
” 6 } early morning. │ ” 3 ” all day.
” 7 } │ ” 4 6 hours.
” 11 } │ ” 10 5 ”
” 12 } │ ” 15 Noon.
” 13 } │ ” 16 Afternoon.
” 14 } Long showers from │ ” 17 ”
” 15 } the afternoon into │ ” 19 Night.
” 16 } the night. │ ” 20 ”
” 17 } │ ” 21 4 hours, forenoon.
” 18 } │
Between the 15th of November and the 16th of January I recorded thirty-
two rainy days, the total rainfall being of 115 hours’ duration. Between
the 16th of January and the 24th of February no rain fell, but between
the 24th of February and the 21st of May there was a total of thirty-
nine rainy days. This interval composed the later or greater Masika, or
monsoon.
On the 26th of April I observed the River begin to rise, but moving from
Inkisi Falls to Nzabi Cove on April the 29th, I had better opportunities
of testing the rate of the rise while cutting out my canoe, viz. until
the afternoon of the 16th of May.
My notes regarding the rise were as follows:—
1877. April 30 3 inches
May 1 3 ”
” 2 4 ”
” 3 4 ”
” 4 4½ ”
” 5 5 ”
” 6 5¾ ”
” 7 8 ”
” 8 9 ”
” 9 9 ”
” 10 9½ ”
” 11 10 ”
” 12 11 ”
” 13 13 ”
” 14 13 ”
” 15 12 ”
” 16 11½ ”
—-—
135¼ ”
—-—
or 11 feet 3¾ inches within 17
days.
At Nzabi Creek the registered rise was as follows:—
1877. May 17 10 inches.
” 18 10 ”
” 19 9 ”
” 20 8½ ”
” 21 7 ”
” 22 6 ”
—-—-
50½ ” = 4 feet 2½
inches.
—-—-
During these storms of rain, the thunder-claps were fully as loud as
those on the Victoria Nyanza during the rainy season of 1875, and the
lightning fully as fierce, being quivering, flaring pennants of flame,
accompanied by bursting shocks, in apparently such close proximity that
we felt frequently half stunned by the sound, and dazed by the
coruscating displays of the electric flame. The deep chasm in which we
were pent while the season was at its height increased the sound and re-
echoed it from side to side, until each thunder-clap was protracted like
a file-fire of artillery. Our position at Nzabi Cove was by no means
enviable or desirable, though our experiences did not nearly realize all
that we had anticipated. As we were encamped on a low terrace, which was
only 30 feet above the river when we first arrived, we feared that, at a
period when it was rising so rapidly, a sudden increase of 20 or 30 feet
was quite “on the cards,” from what we remembered of the sudden creation
of rivers in Ugogo, where a few moments before, dry, sandy water-courses
were alone visible. The increasing fury of the mighty stream, the
deepening roar of the falls, the formation of new rapids, the booming
chorus of a score of torrents precipitated in leaping columns from the
summit of the opposite cliffs a height of 400 feet into the river, the
continuous rain, the vivid flashes of lightning, and the loud thunder
which crackled and burst overhead with overwhelming effect, sufficed to
keep alive the anticipation of terrors happily never realized.
_May 23._—The chief of Nzabi received in return for his fine trees and
the cordial assistance and uniform kindness he had extended to us, a
gift of goods, which exceeded even his hopes. The people were
sufficiently rested after this agreeable interlude to resume the
dangerous passage of the cataracts, and on the 23rd we made a movement
down to the west end of Nzabi Creek, and began hauling the canoes over
the rocky ridge which separated us from another small creek lower down.
The next day we were also clear of the lower creek, and descended a
mile, by which feat we had succeeded in getting below the Nséto Falls.
_May 25._—On the 25th, Frank Pocock, being too lame, from his ulcers, to
travel overland, the conduct of the canoe-party was given to Manwa Sera
and Chowpereh, and the care of the boat to Uledi, the coxswain. Besides
Frank, there were thirteen persons afflicted with ulcerous sores,
dysentery, and general debility; upon whom, on account of their utter
inability to travel by land or climb over the rocks, the humourist
Baraka had bestowed, out of his fertile brain, the sobriquet of Goee-
Goee, a term quite untranslatable as regards its descriptive humour,
though “despairing, forlorn, good-for-nothings” would be a tolerably
fair equivalent. With decent, sober Christian souls the party would have
been distinguished as the “sick list”; but Baraka was not a Christian,
but a reckless good-natured _gamin_, of Mohammedan tendencies. Turning
to Frank, he said to him, with a broad grin, “Ah, ha! is our little
master become a Goee-Goee too? Inshallah! we shall all become Goee-Goees
now, if our masters get on the list.” Frank laughingly assented, and
hobbled to the boat to take a seat.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE TABLE-LAND NEAR MOWA.]
I led the active members of the Expedition and the women and children up
the mountain from the lower Nzabi Creek, and, having well surmounted the
table-land, struck west from Nzabi to Mowa, a distance of three miles.
The plateau was a rolling country, and extremely picturesque in the
populated part which bordered the river, thickly sprinkled with clusters
of the guinea-palm and plantain groves, under which nestled the elegant
huts of the Babwendé. This palm furnishes the natives with a delicious
wine, and also with a yellow butter, which may be turned into a good
burning oil, an unguent for the body, or an oil for stewing their
provisions, bananas, yams, or potatoes; or served up with herbs,
chicken, and chilies, for “palm-oil chop”; or as an excellent sop, when
hot, for their cassava pudding.
[Illustration: CUTTING OUT THE NEW “LIVINGSTONE” CANOE.]
At the third mile we turned down a broad and steep ravine, escorted by
scores of gentle and kind people, and descended to the debouchure of a
mountain brook, which empties into a deep bay-like indentation below the
lower Mowa Falls. As we approached the bottom the Mowa became visible.
It consists of a ledge of igneous rocks, pumice and ironstone, rising 20
feet or so above the water, and though extending nearly three-fourths
across, is pierced by various narrow clefts which discharge as many
streams into the bay below. At the left side, between the end of the
ledge and the perpendicular cliffs of iron-tinted rock, the river
contracts, and in mighty waves leaps down with a terrific, torrent-like
rush, whirling pools, and heaving mounds. From the debouchure of the
brook by which we enter upon the scene to the cliffs across is about
1800 yards; the ledge of the Mowa rocks above it extends probably 800
yards, while the river beyond occupied perhaps 500 yards. The streams
from the great river which falls into the bay through the gaps of the
ledge have a drop of 12 feet; the great river itself has no decided
fall, but, as already described, is a mere rush, with the usual
tempestuous scene.
We occupied a beautiful camping place above the Mowa, on a long stretch
of pure white river sand, under the shadow of such an upright and high
cliff that the sunshine did not visit us until 9 A.M. I travelled up
over the rocks until I reached a point at the base of which the Upper
Mowa rapids broke out into waves, with intervals of unruffled glassy
slope, and here I stood for an hour, pondering unspeakable things, as I
listened to the moan and plaint of the tortured river. Far away below me
extended the great cleft of the table-land, of savagely stern aspect,
unmarked by aught to relieve its awful lonely wildness, with mountain
lines on the right and on the left rising to 1500 feet, and sheer, for
half their height, from unknown depths of water. The stately ranks of
tall trees that had dignified the right side of the river at Nzabi up to
the summit of the table-land, are exchanged from the Mowa down to
Mpakambendi, for clear rock walls of from 300 to 600 feet high,
buttressed by a thin line of boulders or splintered rock slabs of
massive size.
One of the boys announced the boat coming. It soon appeared, Frank
standing up in the bow, and Uledi, as usual, at the helm; but as this
was the first time Frank had played the pioneer over cataracts, I
observed he was a little confused—he waved his hand too often, and
thereby confused the steersman—in consequence of which it was guided
over the very worst part of the rapids, and though we signalled with
cloth we were unheeded, and the boat, whose timbers had never been
fractured before, now plunged over a rock, which crashed a hole 6 inches
in diameter in her stern, and nearly sent Frank headlong over the bow.
Naturally there was a moment of excitement, but by dint of shouting,
frantic gestures, and energy on the part of the crew, the poor wounded
boat was brought towards shore, with her bow in the air and her stern
buried.
“Ah, Frank! Frank! Frank!” I cried, “my boat, my poor boat, after so
many thousands of miles, so many cataracts, to receive such a blow as
this on a contemptible bit of rapids like the Upper Mowa!” I could have
wept aloud; but the leader of an Expedition has but little leisure for
tears, or sentiment, so I turned to repair her, and this, with the aid
of Frank, I was enabled to do most effectually in one day.
_May 27._—All the canoes arrived successfully during the 25th and 26th
without accident. On the 27th, after first conveying the goods of the
Expedition and forming a new camp, below the Lower and Greater Mowa
Falls, on a projection of terrace extending from the debouchure of the
Mowa Brook, which overhung the Mowa Cove, we dropped our canoes down
along the bank and through a cleft in the ledge already described, and
by 3 P.M. had passed the Great Mowa Falls, and everybody was safe in
camp.
An event occurred this day which I shall never forget. I would gladly
leave it out, but as the historian of the journey, may not do so. It
touches human nature, and reveals its weakness, despite the possession
of grand and noble, even matchless, qualities. The incident relates to
Uledi, the coxswain of the _Lady Alice_, the best soldier, sailor, and
artisan, and the most faithful servant, of the Expedition. Up to this
date Uledi had saved thirteen persons from drowning. Simply because I
wished it he had risked his own life to save the lives of others; and
this heroic obedience, though it did not really elevate him much above
the other first-class men of the Expedition, such as Manwa Sera the
chief, Safeni the councillor, Wadi Rehani the storekeeper, and Kachéché
the detective, had endeared him to me above all the rest. Uledi was not
a handsome man; his face was marred by traces of the small-pox, and his
nostrils were a little too dilated for beauty; but “handsome is that
handsome does.” He was not a tall man; he was short, and of compact
frame; but every ounce of his strength he devoted to my service. I never
sought in him for the fine sentiments which elevate men into heroes; but
the rude man, with his untutored, half-savage nature, was always at my
service. He was a devotee to his duty, and as such he was ennobled; he
was affectionately obedient, as such he was beloved; he had risked his
life many times, for creatures who would never have risked their own for
his; as such he was honoured. Yet—this ennobled, beloved and honoured
servant—ah! I regret to speak of him in such terms—_robbed me_.
After we had all reached camp, the boy Majwara came to me in the waning
afternoon, and reported that in the transport of goods from the Upper
Mowa camp a sack of beads had been ripped open, and a considerable
quantity of the beads abstracted.
Beads abstracted! at such a period, when every bead is of more value to
me than its bulk in gold or gems, when the lives of so many people
depend upon the strictest economy, when I have punished myself by the
most rigid abstinence from meat in order to feed the people!
“Who was the thief, Majwara? Speak, and I will make an example of him.”
He was not sure, but he thought it must be Uledi. “_Uledi!_ not Uledi
the cox-swain?”
“Yes,” Majwara replied timidly.
Uledi was called, and while he was kept waiting Kachéché was called and
told in Uledi’s presence—while I watched his face—to seize upon
everything belonging to him and his wife, and to produce everything
before me unopened. Uledi was asked to confess if he possessed any beads
to which he had no right. He replied: “None.” Kachéché was then told to
open his mat, and in the mat were discovered over five pounds of the
fine Sami Sami beads, sufficient for nearly two days’ provisions for the
whole Expedition! He was placed under guard.
At sunset, after the Mowa natives had retired, the people of the
Expedition—men, women, and children—were mustered. I addressed them
seriously. For a long time, I said, both Frank and I had seen it
necessary to exercise the strictest economy, and had sacrificed for the
general good all our rights and privileges of investing moneys from the
general store towards our own comfort, and had simply considered
ourselves in the light of stewards of the goods for the public benefit.
But it had been obvious to us for some time that the goods were rapidly
diminishing during their transit from camp to camp over the rocks and
table-land, and we had found it totally impossible to protect the goods
from peculation, or to animate the people with our own fears that we
should be reduced to starvation long before reaching the sea at the
present rate of consumption. Entreaties we had perceived to be of no
avail. There were some amongst them, it appeared, who through greed were
resolved to cause everybody to suffer; yet if people died through hunger
there was not the slightest doubt but that the dying would impute blame
to us for having reduced them to such straits. To prevent the calamity
which would surely follow absolute poverty, it was our duty to see that
some measures should be adopted to punish those who would provoke such
frightful suffering. A man had been found that afternoon with a large
stock of beads, which he had filched from the general store—that man was
Uledi. What ought to be done with him?
After much urging, Manwa Sera, the chief, said that it was a very hard
case, seeing it was Uledi. Had it been any of the Goee-Goees, men who
had for months been tenderly cared for, who had not toiled from morn to
eve in the cataracts, nor borne the fatigue and toil of the day; who had
never been distinguished for worth, but were always a shiftless and
cowardly set, he would have given his vote for drowning him by hanging a
great stone to his neck and pitching him into the river; but as it
happened to be Uledi, he therefore proposed that he should receive a
thorough flogging, to deter others from repeating the crime. The votes
of the chiefs were in accord with Manwa Sera’s, and three-fourths of the
people cried out for “flogging.”
Then I turned to the boat’s crew, and said, “Now, you boys, you who know
Uledi so well, and have followed him like children through a hundred
rough scenes, speak, what shall be done to him?”
Mpwapwa, whose duty was to watch the boat in camp, and who was one of
the most reliable and steady men, replied, “Well, master, it is a hard
question. Uledi is like our elder brother, and to give our voice for
punishing him would be like asking you to punish ourselves. But the
fathers of the people have demanded that he shall be beaten, and I am
only like a boy among them. Yet, master, for our sakes beat him only
just a little. Mpwapwa has said.”
[Illustration: PASSING NSÉTO FALLS.]
“And you, Marzouk—Uledi’s companion on the rock at the fourth cataract
of the Stanley Falls—what do you say?”
“Verily, master, Mpwapwa has spoken what my tongue would have uttered,
yet I would say, remember it is Uledi.”
“And you, Shumari, who are Uledi’s brother, what punishment shall I mete
to this thief who would starve everybody, you and me?”
“Ah, dear master, your words are as lead. Spare him! It is true Uledi
has stolen, and he has done very wrong. He is always stealing, and I
have scolded him often for it. I have never stolen. No man can accuse me
of taking that which did not belong to me, and I am but a boy, and Uledi
is my elder. But please, master, as the chiefs say he must be flogged,
give me half of it; and knowing it is for Uledi’s sake I shall not feel
it.”
“Now, Saywa, you are his cousin, what do you say? Ought not Uledi to
receive the severest punishment to prevent others from stealing?”
“Will the master give his slave liberty to speak?”
“Yes, say all that is in your heart, Saywa.”
Young Saywa advanced, and kneeling, seized my feet and embraced them,
and then said:—
“The master is wise. All things that happen he writes in a book. Each
day there is something written. We, black men, know nothing, neither
have we any memory. What we saw yesterday is to-day forgotten. Yet the
master forgets nothing. Perhaps if the master will look into his books
he may see something in it about Uledi. How Uledi behaved on Lake
Tanganika; how he rescued Zaidi from the cataract; how he has saved many
men whose names I cannot remember from the river, Bill Alli, Mabruki,
Kom-Kusi, and others; how he worked harder on the canoes than any three
men; how he has been the first to listen to your voice always; how he
has been the father of the boat-boys, and many other things. With Uledi,
master, the boat-boys are good, and ready; without him they are nothing.
Uledi is Shumari’s brother. If Uledi is bad, Shumari is good. Uledi is
my cousin. If, as the chiefs say, Uledi should be punished, Shumari says
he will take a half of the punishment; then give Saywa the other half,
and set Uledi free. Saywa has spoken.”
“Very well,” I said. “Uledi, by the voice of the people, is condemned,
but as Shumari and Saywa have promised to take the punishment on
themselves, Uledi is set free, and Shumari and Saywa are pardoned.”
Uledi, upon being released, advanced and said, “Master, it was not Uledi
who stole. It was the devil which entered into his heart. Uledi will be
good in future, and if he pleased his master before he will please his
master much more in time to come.”
_May 28._—On the 28th the natives appeared in camp by the hundred, to
wonder, and barter, and be amused. Mowa is divided into two districts,
governed by four kings. The brook, which empties into the cove,
separates the two districts, which united are not more than eight square
miles. The two principal chiefs are Manwana and Kintu.[13] Each vied
with the other in supplying Frank and myself with palm-wine, cassava
bread, and bananas, in the hope, of course, of receiving munificent
gifts in return, for the natives of this region are too poor to make
gratuitous gifts to the Mundelé or merchant, as I was called, who is
supposed to be a rich man, and who ought by all natural laws to respond
liberally to their gifts. Yet the Babwendé are not illiberal, and my
people gave them great credit for hospitality. They invariably, if any
of the Wangwana passed them during their drinking bouts, proffered a
glassful of their wine and some cassava bread.
-----
Footnote 13:
It is rather singular that at such a vast distance from Uganda I
should find the name of the Lost Patriarch, so celebrated in the
traditional history of that country..
-----
The Babwendé have one peculiarity which is rather startling at first to
a stranger. When, for instance, they have visited the camp bringing with
them small gifts of wine and bread, and having seated themselves for a
sociable chat, they suddenly begin grinding their teeth, as though in a
mad rage! After a while we discovered that it was only a habit of the
Babwendé and the Bakongo.
Many of the Babwendé from below Nzabi, as far as Manyanga, have been
once in their lives to the sea, to the ports of Kinsembo, Kinzau, Mkura,
Mkunga, Mbala, and a few had been to Embomma. They are consequently
amiable, and disposed to be civil to strangers, though very little is
required to stir them to fighting pitch, and to discharge their heavily
loaded guns at strangers or at one another. The theft of the smallest
article, or a squabble with a native, would be at once resented. Writing
on paper, taking observations, sketching or taking notes, or the
performance of any act new or curious to them, is sufficient to excite
them to hostilities.
On the third day of our stay at Mowa, feeling quite comfortable amongst
the people, on account of their friendly bearing, I began to write down
in my note-book the terms for articles in order to improve my already
copious vocabulary of native words. I had proceeded only a few minutes
when I observed a strange commotion amongst the people who had been
flocking about me, and presently they ran away. In a short time we heard
war-cries ringing loudly and shrilly over the table-land. Two hours
afterwards, a long line of warriors, armed with muskets, were seen
descending the table-land and advancing towards our camp. There may have
been between five hundred and six hundred of them. We, on the other
hand, had made but few preparations except such as would justify us
replying to them in the event of the actual commencement of hostilities.
But I had made many firm friends amongst them, and I firmly believed
that I would be able to avert an open rupture.
When they had assembled at about a hundred yards in front of our camp,
Safeni and I walked up towards them, and sat down midway. Some half-
dozen of the Mowa people came near and the shauri began.
“What is the matter, my friends?” I asked. “Why do you come with guns in
your hands in such numbers, as though you were coming to fight? Fight!
Fight us, your friends! Tut! this is some great mistake, surely.”
“Mundelé,” replied one of them, a tall fellow with a mop-head which
reminded me of Mwana Saramba, who had accompanied me round Lake
Victoria—“our people saw you yesterday make marks on some tara-tara”
(paper). “This is very bad. Our country will waste, our goats will die,
our bananas will rot, and our women will dry up. What have we done to
you, that you should wish to kill us? We have sold you food, and we have
brought you wine, each day. Your people are allowed to wander where they
please, without trouble. Why is the Mundelé so wicked? We have gathered
together to fight you, if you do not burn that tara-tara now before our
eyes. If you burn it we go away and shall be friends as heretofore.”
I told them to rest there, and left Safeni in their hands as a pledge
that I should return. My tent was not fifty yards from the spot, but
while going towards it my brain was busy in devising some plan to foil
this superstitious madness. My note-book contained a vast number of
valuable notes; plans of falls, creeks, villages, sketches of
localities, ethnological and philological details, sufficient to fill
two octavo volumes—everything was of general interest to the public. I
could not sacrifice it to the childish caprice of savages. As I was
rummaging my book box, I came across a volume of Shakespeare (Chandos
Edition), much worn and well thumbed, and which was of the same size as
my field-book; its cover was similar also, and it might be passed for
the note-book provided that no one remembered its appearance too well. I
took it to them.
“Is this the tara-tara, friends, that you wish burnt?”
“Yes, yes, that is it!”
“Well, take it, and burn it or keep it.”
“M—m. No, no, no. We will not touch it. It is fetish. You must burn it.”
“I! Well, let it be so. I will do anything to please my good friends of
Mowa.”
We walked to the nearest fire. I breathed a regretful farewell to my
genial companion, which during many weary hours of night had assisted to
relieve my mind when oppressed by almost intolerable woes, and then
gravely consigned the innocent Shakespeare to the flames, heaping the
brush-fuel over it with ceremonious care.
“Ah-h-h,” breathed the poor deluded natives, sighing their relief. “The
Mundelé is good—is very good. He loves his Mowa friends. There is no
trouble now, Mundelé. The Mowa people are not bad.” And something
approaching to a cheer was shouted among them, which terminated the
episode of the Burning of Shakespeare.
The boat had been in a leaky condition ever since she had received the
shock at the Upper Mowa, and her constant portage by the falls of the
Livingstone, the constant change from dry heat to wet, had almost ruined
her, yet we persisted in caulking and repairing her. Some of the
natives, observing my anxiety to render her water-tight, offered to
bring me a substance which, they said, would be effectual for the
purpose. In a few hours they had brought me a mixture of india-rubber
and palm-butter. We experimented with it instantly, but it was a very
poor substitute for pitch, and I expressed my dissatisfaction with it.
[Illustration:
THE CIRCUMNAVIGATORS OF THE VICTORIA NYANZA AND LAKE TANGANIKA, AND
EXPLORERS OF THE
ALEXANDRA NILE AND LIVINGSTONE (CONGO) RIVER.
]
_June 1._—Then a nephew of Manwana offered to show his friend Kachéché
something else which would be much better. Accordingly, the next
morning, at 10 A.M. of the 1st of June, Kachéché and the native brought
about thirty pounds of bees-wax, a very dark substance, which, had it
not been for the diminutive bees which clung to it, might have been
mistaken for pitch. Subsequently I proceeded myself to the source of the
supply, and discovered about a hundredweight of bees-wax attached to a
lofty fragment of rock near Massassa Falls. These bees are of a dark
brown colour, short and dumpy, about one-half the length of the ordinary
honey-bee. At several places between Massassa and Mowa there were
similar large secretions of wax on the cliffy rocks.
Another valuable article of commerce besides the bees-wax and india-
rubber found here was the gum copal—not, however, amongst the
possessions of the natives. We were first attracted to it at Kalulu
Falls by the great quantities discovered between the rocks. One man
collected about fifty pounds of it, under the impression that he would
be able, on reaching the coast, to sell it for a few pice. Poor fellow!
He had but little idea of what was in store for him and all of us,
before we should arrive at the sea. The appearance of the substance
proved that it had been long immersed in water. My own opinion is that
it is fossilized gum carried down by the Livingstone river. On Cheandoah
Island, a cake 15 lbs. in weight was discovered, besides many small
pieces of two or three pounds’ weight, of the mellow red and pale white
variety.
The Babwendé are too rich in palm-oil to employ the gum, frankincense,
and myrrh, and the other resins of the Burseraceæ, as the Waregga and
natives of Karuru do, for lights. Of india-rubber the Mowa possess large
quantities, as their wooded ravines and the right slopes of the great
river furnish them with inexhaustible supplies. One enterprising fellow
carried one load of it to sell to the Ba-Zombo, but he received so
little cloth for it that he repented of the speculation.
The commercial enterprise of the Babwendé has never recovered from the
effects of the melancholy termination to a great caravan which they
despatched some years ago. A disease which they say attacked the bowels
broke out among them, and but few returned to their native land. The
Basundi, who live to the west-north-west of Mowa, seldom venture near
the verge of the Livingstone’s chasm, from which the loud waters send up
sometimes an appalling volume of sound. Should the wind bear the noise
of the falls to their ears while at the _zandu_, or market, they place
their hands over their ears and immediately withdraw, or should they by
accident wander near the river, and from some point observe it, they
instantly veil their eyes and hurry away.
One of the first customs obtaining among this tribe which first attracts
the traveller’s attention is that of mourning. The heavily loaded
muskets are announcing their grief at all hours, and a statistician
would find it an easy matter to ascertain the death-rate of any of these
districts, as well as the sex and age of the deceased, by reckoning the
number of shots fired. Six announce a child’s death, ten that of a
woman, and fifteen that of a man, the fire being directed at the bananas
and palms, in the belief that the death was either caused by bad bananas
or through some fault in the palm-juice.
In Mowa Cove are kept about a dozen small fishing canoes, which are cut
out of the soft and light Rubiaceæ. For besides the cane-nets which are
towing at the mouth of the several narrow falls over the Mowa rock-
ledge, each night the Mowa fishermen enter their canoes with cord nets,
and ply about the little cove to catch the whitebait, which they attract
by torch-lights. Also, like sailing skippers whistling for a breeze, the
natives appear to think that whistling charms the minnows, and all night
long may be heard the peculiar sounds.
A traveller in these regions, where the people are so superstitious, is
liable at any moment to be the object of popular fury. Aneurism might
strike down a person while trading in his camp, or while standing
carelessly upon a rock he might fall and meet an instantaneous death; a
disease like cholera or typhus might attack a settlement, a fatal
accident with a gun cause loss of life, or apoplexy overtake a
gormandizing chief, but everything would be charged to the malevolent
influence of the traveller. Indeed, they are rather partial to “wars,”
it appears to me. An accident happened to a Mowa man at the Zinga Falls,
and the Zinga district had at once to muster its warriors to resist an
invasion from Mowa. A Zinga chief named Ndala owed a Mowa elder twenty-
five cloths, but the credit he had received for one moon he extended to
two, and at the end of two moons, being still unable to pay, he was
fiercely attacked by the natives of Mowa.
_June 2._—An exploration of the river as far as the Zinga Falls—which is
two miles below Mowa—made by Manwa Sera, comforted us, for he reported
that the river between Mowa and Zinga was not so difficult as many parts
we had successfully passed, and that with a little caution no great
danger was to be apprehended. On the 2nd of June I proceeded with him as
far as Massassa Falls, along the summit of the lofty precipices. At
Massassa terminates the comparatively narrow-walled channel, through
which the river tumbles uneasily from the Mowa Falls and the lower basin
down (by the Massassa Falls) into the Bolo-bolo—“quiet-quiet”—basin. On
account of the great width of the Mowa basin, 1800 yards, the river
rolls from above through its 500-yards-wide cleft in the ledge, streams
along in a furious billowy course for a mile, and at Massessé seems to
slack its current. Here the river, heaving upward, discharges a portion
of its volume backward along its flanks, which, sweeping along the base
of the Mowa cliffs, flows upstream until it enters the Mowa Cove. Then,
after darting into the tongue-like cove like a tidal flow, it quickly
subsides, and retreating along the base of the Mowa ledge, after a
circuit of two miles, meets with the great falls and billowy rapids,
where there is a wild contention between the two opposing currents. From
Massessé the river resumes its rapid flow downwards, ruffled at
projections into waves, but generally with an apparently calm face,
though curling and gurgling ominously, until, approaching Massassa
Point, one mile below Massessé, it drives against outstanding boulders,
rises into curling waves on either side, which meet in mid-river 200
yards below: crest strikes crest, wave meets wave, and mutually overlap
and wrestle, then subside, then heave aloft again in deep-brown surge
and sounding tops. A half-mile length of wild waters rolls thus to Bolo-
bolo basin, where they are finally gathered into a tranquil pool—hence
the name.
While standing upon the summit of the high cliff-walls which encircle
the crater-like pool, the frantic Massassa appears tame. Even wilder
Zinga, one and a half miles below, and Ingulufi below that, are reduced
to mere whitey flakes of water. If we step down, however, close to them,
they become terrible enough to those purposing to try their terrors in a
canoe.
Half-way to the Zinga Falls from Massassa, in the middle of the concave
cliffs, falls the Edwin Arnold River, in a long cascade-like descent
from the height of the table-land, with a sheer drop of 300 feet. While
it rolls calmly above, this river has a width of 50 yards, and an
average depth of 3 feet.
As usual, Frank Pocock and I spent our evening together in my tent. The
ulcers by which he was afflicted had by this time become most virulent.
Though he doctored them assiduously, he was unable to travel about in
active superintendence of the men; yet he was seldom idle. Bead-bags
required sewing, tents patching, and clothes becoming tattered needed
repairing, and while he was at work his fine voice broke out into song,
or some hymn such as he was accustomed to sing in Rochester Church.
Joyous and light-hearted as a linnet, Frank indulged for ever in song,
and this night the crippled man sang his best, raising his sweet voice
in melody, lightening my heart, and for the time dispelling my
anxieties. In my troubles his face was my cheer; his English voice
recalled me to my aims, and out of his brave bold heart he uttered, in
my own language, words of comfort to my thirsty ears. Thirty-four months
had we lived together, and hearty throughout had been his assistance,
and true had been his service. The servant had long ago merged into the
companion; the companion had soon become a friend. At these nightly
chats, when face looked into face, and the true eyes beamed with
friendly warmth, and the kindly voice replied with animation, many were
the airy castles we built together, and many were the brilliant
prospects we hopefully sketched. Alas! alas!
[Illustration: THE MASSASSA FALLS, AND THE ENTRANCE INTO POCOCK BASIN,
OR BOLOBOLO POOL.]