HOW WE WERE RECEIVED AT CAMP.—THREATENED WITH STARVATION.—A NIGHT IN
CAMP.—MALAOUEN’S STORY.
We left the gorilla scene I have just described to you in the preceding
chapter, and made for our camp. As we came in sight of it Querlaouen
gave the peculiar whistle agreed upon to announce our arrival, and soon
after we saw the head of Gambo and Malaouen peeping out above the fence,
also the heads of the two boys Njali and Nola.
The ladder was handed down to us; soon we were inside, and, before I
knew it, Malaouen was hugging me as hard as he could; when he had done,
and before I had time to breathe and free myself from his embrace
entirely, I was hugged by friend Gambo. The boys jumped around, and
there was tremendous excitement in the camp. The poor fellows had been
very anxious, and did not know what had become of us. When night came
they became very uneasy; perhaps we had been killed by the Ashankolo
Bakalai, or by some wild beasts.
Gambo, looking with pride into Malaouen’s face, said, “Did I not tell
you that they would come back all safe?” They were washed with the chalk
of the Alumbi, covered with their fetiches, and had gone through all
sorts of heathen ceremonies to find out whether we were safe. The little
wooden idol of Gambo had also been consulted. Gambo is a celebrated
doctor who can tell future events; and, as a proof, he pointed us to his
friend, shouting, “Did I not tell you that they would return safely?”
Both Gambo and Malaouen had been looking at us with keen eyes upon our
arrival, to know if we had come with a well-provided larder, and seemed
somewhat disappointed when they saw us empty-handed, for they had
fancied us coming back with a fat monkey or a nice gazelle.
There was nothing in the camp, with the exception of the nchombi and
ncheri gazelles which we had kept alive, and these I did not wish to
kill then. So we concluded that Gambo and the two boys should go to a
secluded plantation belonging to Malaouen and gather plantains, while
Malaouen, Querlaouen, and myself would go hunting and try to kill a wild
boar. It was the season when these latter were splendid eating. In the
mean time we would collect nuts and live upon them; if we could not find
these, we would then quietly starve, waiting for Gambo and the boys with
their plantains.
We all bade good-by to friend Gambo, and to Njali and Nola, wishing them
good luck and plenty of nuts on the road to fill their empty stomachs;
and as they disappeared they reciprocated our wishes about the nuts, and
we had a jolly laugh.
After Gambo’s departure we held a great council, and agreed that we had
better empty the little creek we had dammed to prevent the fish from
going out, and see if we would meet with good fortune there. So we took
our kettle with us, and every thing else that could draw water, and
started, leaving our camp entirely unprotected. I need not tell you that
we had our guns, and plenty of powder, shot, and bullets.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL AT THE STOCKADE.]
[Sidenote: _DRAINING OUR FISH-POND._]
It was no small work to empty this creek or little pond, I can assure
you. For hours we went on dipping our kettles and baskets and throwing
the water out, until at last the water became shallow, and we could see
great quantities of ground fish, called _niozi_, together with other
large ones whose names I forget. These niozi are splendid little fishes,
and the natives think a great deal of them. In the dry season a great
many are caught, and they are smoked and kept for hard times.
We made a bountiful harvest, and had to make baskets with the branches
of trees in order to carry our loads to the camp. Then we lighted fires
under our oralas to smoke the fish, and after cooking we ate some of
them.
We had had a grand success with the fish, and now we determined to try
our hands at a wild boar hunt, which is certainly one of the most
difficult, for the wild boar is very shy in these forests; but when fat,
the animal is the nicest game one can kill, for the flesh is very savory
and delicious.
And successful we were. Two large enormous wild boars were bagged, one
of them by myself—a splendid fellow, weighing several hundred pounds. We
were very thankful that these two fellows were killed within about two
miles from the camp. We disemboweled them, cut their hind and fore
quarters apart, and the rest of the body in large pieces, and brought
the meat to the camp. We had to make several journeys, till I began to
feel so tired that I wished the boar meat anywhere else, but we must
make hay while the sun shines.
In the evening we had bright fires under the oralas. This is the way to
smoke meat here: we boil the meat for a short time, and then put it over
the fire on the oralas, and leave it there until it is perfectly smoked.
What a splendid flavor, and how nice the meat would have been if we
could only have some plantains to eat with it! When is Gambo coming? How
near is he on the road? Have the elephants or gorillas destroyed the
plantation of plantain-trees where they have gone? Such were the
questions we asked ourselves. People can not live on fish and meat
alone. That evening we fed on boar’s meat, thankful for having been so
successful.
The next morning the voice, or rather the peculiar whistle agreed upon
outside, told us that Gambo had come. I was the first to peep my head
above the fence, when I saw friend Gambo and Njali and Nola loaded with
plantain and cassada, and we gave them a grand hurrah of welcome.
I wish you could have seen the face of Gambo as he looked at the
wild-boar meat which was being smoked; he was tremendously hungry, he
said, as soon as he saw the meat. So we prepared food ourselves for
them, as we wanted them to rest, they looked so tired. They ate such
quantities of wild boar! I was glad they had brought some Cayenne pepper
with them and some lemons. I had some salt, but no one could take any
without my permission.
We remained in the camp all day, lying down on our beds of leaves and
taking naps from time to time, my men meanwhile smoking their pipes and
telling stories. Gambo swore that he saw a ghost, a real evil spirit,
and they all believed it except myself. We had a grand time listening to
Gambo’s stories. The boys swore that what Gambo said was all true. They
had seen the ghost too.
[Sidenote: _A NIGHT IN CAMP._]
If you could have had a peep at us, you would have seen us inside of our
fortress by the side of a bright fire round our orala, enjoying and
warming ourselves. We were perfectly happy; how the men seemed to enjoy
their smoke of tobacco! Malaouen had been collecting some palm wine, and
each of them had had a good draught of the beverage—the empty calabash
was now lying by their side.
Our nchombi and ncheri were getting somewhat tame, and were lying on the
ground not far from us. They had got accustomed to the fire and to
ourselves. Our dogs were there also; the poor fellows had had a hard
fare of late.
Each one of us had one hand resting on his gun, which was supported by a
forked stick, stuck in the ground for that purpose, and our hunting-bag
was hung by the side of the gun. In our bags we had each of us a flask
full of powder, two or three scores of bullets, and shot of two or three
sizes. We could seize all these in an instant, if danger were to
threaten us. In such a wild country people must never fancy themselves
secure, and must be always ready for any emergency, for any fighting
against the savages, or against the attacks of the ferocious leopard;
and I got so accustomed to carry arms that I never left my gun by itself
if I went anywhere, however short the distance might be; my revolvers,
of course, hanging always by my side.
I was dressed with the clothes I had made from the skins of wild
animals. I wish I could have gone into the woods like my men, that is to
say, with almost nothing to cover them.
If you could have had a peep at us, you would have seen us as I have
just been describing ourselves to you; and I have no doubt many of you
would have been glad to join our party. I love to look back upon those
days. It was a wild life indeed, one that no civilized man had led
before me, for no one had ever gone into such a country.
Friend Malaouen then told us the story of a leopard, and began thus:
“When I was a boy our clan lived on the banks of the Rembo Ngouyai, a
river which flows the other side of the Ashankolo Mountains, and which
you have not seen, Chaillee.
“The village where my parents lived was very large, and, as the people
were always at war, it was fenced about. While there, one of our men
disappeared, and was changed into a leopard. From that time people from
time to time began to disappear; they were carried away by that leopard,
and we could only see the clots of blood left behind, but could not
trace them into the woods. We were afraid—for nothing is so terrible as
a leopard that was once a man. No spear can go through him, no trap can
ever catch him, and woe to the man who ever tries to face the beast;”
and, as Malaouen said this, his face and that of Querlaouen and Gambo
contracted themselves with fear; their superstitions were very strong,
and overcame the great courage they possessed. I could hear distinctly
the breathing of each man, as by instinct each seized his gun near by.
Then Malaouen continued:
[Sidenote: _A WOMAN CHANGED INTO A LEOPARD._]
“One day several women had gone to the plantation with me, and as we
returned to the village, it was just getting dark, when lo! I heard a
tremendous, a fearful scream from the woman ahead of me, and I had just
time to see through the darkness a tremendous leopard carrying her away
into the woods. We all shouted, but in vain. All became silent; the
leopard had disappeared with its prey. Fear seized upon us, and we made
off for the village with the utmost speed.
“When we brought the news, there was great consternation and wailing,
for the woman who had been taken away was very beautiful.
“The next day we danced round the mbuiti, and the mbuiti told us that we
should kill the leopard.
“So thirty men prepared themselves for the hunt. We cooked the war dish,
bled our hands, covered ourselves with our war fetiches, marked our
bodies with the ochre of the Alumbi, invoked the spirits of our
ancestors to be with us, and departed.
“The day before some people came to the place where they had seen the
leopard’s foot-prints, and not far off was a tremendous jungle, very
thick, and several trees had been brought down by a tornado. The
leopard’s lair was there.
“At last we came round the lair. Some said the leopard was not there,
while others said he was. In the mean time we shouted, and all the time
our spears were in readiness, and the dogs were barking; we had a hope
that it would spring on one of them, then we would transpierce it with
our spears.
“When a man who said the leopard was not there first entered the jungle,
he had hardly made a step into it, when lo! a terrible cry sprung from
among us. The leopard, which was probably watching, with a tremendous
leap sprung on the intruder, his claws fastened deeply into his
shoulder, and the teeth of his powerful jaws holding the neck of the
man, who uttered a fearful shriek. In less time than I can tell you the
leopard was covered with the spears that had gone through him; he
dropped down dead with the man whom he had killed.”
They all shouted, “Yes, this leopard had been once a man who was
possessed with witchcraft.”
My breath was becoming short with excitement, and I was glad when the
story was over, for the sweat was fast coming down from my face.
We turned the meat on the other side on the orala, and left our three
native dogs, Kambi, Goa and Andeko, to take care of the premises (they
were now lying by the fires, enjoying the heat thoroughly), and then we
went to sleep.
During the night I woke, thinking I heard a booming sound like that of
heavy footsteps, when the dogs began to bark, and soon I heard a crash
through the forest. It was a herd of elephants which was wandering not
far from us, and then the forest resumed its wonted stillness.
Now I had remained a long time at the head-waters of the Ovenga—a long
time has gone by since the last chapter. Months had been spent in that
region, and I thought now of descending the river to visit my settlement
of Washington on the sea-side. It was high time. I was still suffering
from fever attacks, and had not quinine enough left for a large dose.
[Sidenote: _DESIRE TO RETURN._]
Not only was I sick, but also poor and ragged. My clothes were torn and
patched, and I looked in reality very little better than my negro
friends. My stock of powder was small, my bullets were nearly exhausted,
and my small shot were almost gone. I was wearing my last pair of shoes.
My goods were all gone, and skins of animals made a great part of my
garments.
The numerous hardships of this long trip; the sleeping night after night
in wet clothes; the tramping through rain, through rivers, and under the
hot sun; the sufferings from the intolerable _gouamba_, and the still
less tolerable starvation; the attacks of fever that followed one upon
the other—all these had done their work upon me. Food had been scarce,
very scarce for a long time, and I began to feel as if I wanted a long
rest. I wanted to breathe the salt air; I wanted to see the deep blue
sea, and to look at the waves which came in heavy surfs upon the beach;
I wanted to see that sea on which I expected to sail one day for home.
Do you not think that I deserved to go back? I had worked hard, very
hard. I had made beautiful collections; and I was to carry with me
gorillas, hippopotami, manatee, nshiego-mbouvé, kooloo-kamba, no end of
birds (more than two thousand), a great many monkeys, and the skins of
several hundreds of animals. I had worked hard to kill them, and worked
still harder to stuff them, hunting them during the day, and preparing
their skins during the night. So I told friend Quengueza we must go.
I called the Bakalai together and told friend Obindji that his Ntangani
must leave him. As soon as I said this, the old chief said, “Neshi (no).
What will Obindji do without his Ntangani?” They all shouted, “What
shall we do without our Ntangani?” The women shouted, “Chaillee, you
must not go!”
Gambo, Malaouen, and Querlaouen made long faces and were sad, for we had
a real affection for each other, we were such great friends, and how
could it be otherwise? We had braved danger together; we had gone
through hardships and starvation together; many and many a night had we
spent together in the forest. Of any wild animal they killed I was sure
to have a piece; the best plantains were sure to be mine; the nicest
fishes their women caught they brought to me. How kind they were to me,
how gentle! No children could have been more docile, and yet how fierce,
how brave, when the day of battle or of danger came!
I was sorry to leave, for I had come to love these wild men who had
never seen a white man before. I had also a kind of affection for the
country, where, in the discovery of new and strange animals, I had
enjoyed one of the greatest pleasures a naturalist can have. The rough
life was forgotten when I looked at my precious collections, and the
thought of a gorilla even now enabled me to shake off the fever, and
gave strength to my feeble limbs.
Quengueza, too, was tired of bush life, and had several times sworn that
he had never known a man like me; that he could not understand what was
moving me; that I had a heart of njego (leopard). His Majesty called
those Bakalais his bushmen, and to whatever village he would set his
foot he had a right at once to at least a wife.
[Illustration: GOOD-BYE TO THE BAKALAIS.]
[Sidenote: _PARTING DEMONSTRATIONS._]
Quengueza is the best friend I ever had in Africa, indeed one of the
best friends I ever had anywhere. This old and powerful chief—the dread
in his younger days of all the tribes around—the man whom every body
respected, the man whose word was law, was gentle with me, was kind to
me, and never did a single mean thing, never took any advantage of me;
and whatever I said was sure to be attended to, if possible.
Going to a hunt, his last words were always to those who went with me,
“Take care of my white man;” and, as he often said, if he had been a
young man he would have gone with us. Every fowl or goat he had he gave
to me, every bit of game his slaves or his friends killed for him was
mine, and when we travelled in company we always ate together, and we
always managed to make a pleasant table. For I wanted to show these
people the difference between civilized and savage life, and Quengueza
always ate with a fork and on a plate. I love old Quengueza, and it
makes me happy to think that he knows I love him.
As we were preparing to go, my Bakalai friends came in with presents of
provisions. Baskets of cassava, smoked-boar hams, smoked fishes, sweet
potatoes, were brought as free-will offerings.
Malaouen, Gambo, and Querlaouen were always near me, their wives came
every day to see me, and their children were always around me. All the
Bakalai seemed to me to be kinder than ever.
Good Obindji seemed so sorry! The evening before my departure I called
him into my hut and gave him a nice coat and a red cap, which I had kept
especially for him, and to his head-wife I gave a necklace of large
beads. I did not forget friends Malaouen, Gambo, and Querlaouen.
When the morning arrived, our canoes were on the beach. I was on the
shore ready to embark; Obindji stood near me; every woman and man
brought to me a parting gift. I was very much touched by their simple
ways.
When all was ready for a start, Macondai, my boy, fired a gun, and then
I swung the American flag to the breeze, the first time that it or any
other flag of a civilized nation was over these waters. The people
shouted, and we were off; and as we glided down, and before we
disappeared by the bend of the river, I saw Obindji’s hand waving
farewell to me.
Presently several miles down the stream we passed Querlaouen’s
plantation. He and his kind wife and their children stood on the shore
and beckoned me to stop. We paddled in, and the good fellow silently put
into my canoe another smoked-boar ham, while his wife gave me a great
basket of sweet potatoes. As we started away again, the wife shouted,
“When you come back bring me some beads.” The children cried out, “When
you come back bring us some clothes.” But old Querlaouen stood still and
silent, like a black statue, until, by a turn of the river, he was lost
to our sight.
Quengueza accompanied me to Washington and Biagano, and all of the
Goumbi people that had canoes accompanied us, beating tam-tams, singing
songs, and firing guns as we descended the stream.
Quengueza was bringing back safely to Ranpano his friend Chaillee. At
last we reached the place where the old bamboo house was, and the whole
population turned out to receive me, headed by King Ranpano and old
Rinkimongani, my housekeeper, and brother to the King. I found my house
undisturbed, all my valuables and goods safe, and my live stock on hand
and in good condition, and made old Rinkimongani very proud by
expressing my satisfaction. He said, “Now you tell me what I stole?” And
King Ranpano exclaimed, “Ah! we don’t steal from our white man. We are
people, we have a heart that feels, we love our white man, for he is the
first that ever came to live among us.”
[Sidenote: _AU REVOIR._]
And now I must say good-by again to you; and I wish that, in reading
this book, you may think that you have been travelling with me for a
while in the great forests of the Equatorial regions of Africa. I have
many more things to say to you, but will wait for another year before I
do so.
I hope that I have been able to instruct as well as to amuse you, and
that, as the years go by, and you become men and women, you may remember
some of the stories I have told you. Some of you, no doubt, have seen
me, while others do not know me. My great wish is that you may think
kindly of me, and remember him who will always be happy to call himself
the boys’ and girls’ friend.
[Illustration: FINIS]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
DU CHAILLU’S
EQUATORIAL AFRICA.
EXPLORATIONS AND ADVENTURES IN EQUATORIAL AFRICA: with Accounts of the
Manners and Customs of the People, and of the Chase of the Gorilla,
the Crocodile, Leopard, Elephant, Hippopotamus, and other Animals.
By PAUL B. DU CHAILLU, Author of “Stories of the Gorilla Country,”
“Wild Life under the Equator,” &c. With numerous Illustrations. 8vo,
Cloth, $5 00.
“The notes and descriptions of a man of uncommon nerve and daring.
They trace the course of a traveller who, forsaking all beaten tracks,
plunged into the wilds of a country where no white man appears to have
preceded him, and who brings before us tribes marked by hideous moral
degradation, and yet of not unhopeful prospects; while as a hunter,
sportsman, and naturalist, he has tales to tell which make the ears of
all who hear to tingle.”—_London Review._
“Strikingly attractive and wonderful as are his descriptions, they all
carry in themselves an impress of substantial truthfulness.”—_Sir
Roderick Murchison._
“In this large volume we have not found one page which we were
inclined to skip. We can not too strongly express our admiration of
the undaunted pluck and resolution which carried him to the point
actually accomplished. He performed the whole distance, eight thousand
miles, on foot, and the amount of fever he went through may be judged
of by the fact that he consumed in four years fourteen _ounces_ of
quinine.”—_London Spectator._
“Its literary merits are considerable, for it is clear, lively, and
judiciously pruned of unimportant details. His explorations were in no
degree exempt from the hardships and dangers which are the condition
of African travel. He sojourned among cannibals, panthers, crocodiles,
and snakes—underwent fifty attacks of the fever—walked several hundred
miles on foot, and was constantly in a condition so nearly bordering
on starvation that he was sometimes, for days together, without any
other food than roots and berries.”—_London Saturday Review._
“We must go back to the voyages of La Perouse and Captain Cook, and
almost to the days of wonder which followed the track of Columbus, for
novelties of equal significance to the age of their discovery. Du
Chaillu struck into the very spine of Africa, and lifted the veil of
the torrid zone from its western rivers, swamps, and forests. He found
therein a variety of new types of living creatures, and others which
were only partially and imperfectly known. He sojourned among tribes
or races who feed on their kind, and he encountered the animal more
formidable than any yet heard of.”—_London Times._
“He has contrived to render his name forever memorable in the annals
of geographical discovery. He traveled on foot, unattended by any
other white man, eight thousand miles, secured two thousand birds, and
killed upward of two thousand quadrupeds.”—_London Morning Post._
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
☞ _Sent by mail, postage prepaid, on receipt of $5 00._
DU CHAILLU’S
GORILLA COUNTRY.
STORIES OF THE GORILLA COUNTRY: Narrated for Young People. By PAUL B.
DU CHAILLU, Author of “Discoveries in Equatorial Africa,” “Wild Life
under the Equator,” &c. Profusely Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, $1 75.
“The stories it contains are full of the kind of novelty, peril, and
adventure which are so fascinating to children.... It is a capital
book for boys.”—_London Spectator._
“Exceedingly interesting—as much so as even ‘Robinson Crusoe’ ever
was—not only to young people on account of its striking novelty and
charming and natural style, but to the aged and learned as well.”—_New
York Herald._
“These stories are entertaining, and are well told, and they are
calculated to impart much knowledge of natural history to youthful
readers.”—_Boston Traveller._
“M. Du Chaillu tells his stories in a ‘once-upon-a-time’ way, with a
personal zest which is quite captivating.”—_Hartford Press._
“Almost a rival of ‘Robinson Crusoe’ for intense interest, while it
has this advantage over that work, that it is a narrative of
facts.”—_Sunday-School Times._
“It is a book for young people—true, every line of it, but full of
action, adventure, enterprise, and peril, and as exciting as a
well-told fairy tale.”—_Philadelphia Press._
“Du Chaillu’s stories of the cannibals, and of his adventures in the
vast forests of Africa, and among the wild beasts and men no less
wild, are told in a picturesque, vivacious style.”—_New York Times._
“Fresh, original narratives related in a style of incomparable
naiveté, and with a delightful confiding tone that must find its way
to the heart of every juvenile lover of the marvels of nature.”—_New
York Tribune._
“Full of rare adventure, and probably what is better, of
truth.”—_Zion’s Herald._
“Too strange, as well as too life-like, not to be true.”—_Christian
Advocate._
PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK.
☞ _Sent by mail, postage prepaid, on receipt of $1 75._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
● Enclosed blackletter font in =equals=.