AT NYANGWE.
We were saved, but, alas! on looking round we found that two of the last
five who had stood back to back were mortally wounded. Only Hatibu,
myself, and another man named Bilal could hope to recover from our
wounds, and even we would have been considered serious cases in the
surgical wards of any hospital.
Soon we were surrounded by eager questioners, and our hurts were
attended to. Some of our rescuers pursued the routed enemy; others
cleared the ground of the tokens of the fray, reserving the bodies of
our dead companions for decent burial, while those of the Washenzi, or
heathen, as the natives were called, were thrown into the jungle, where
they would afford a repast to birds of prey, jackals, and hyenas.
Huts and shelters were soon built. After a time the men who had been
engaged in pursuit of the enemy came back, driving before them strings
of prisoners whom they had captured. Soon after another body of men came
in, among whom were several of
[Illustration: HATIBU AND BILAL.
_Page 268._]
light complexion, attired in long white shirts, and with white cloths
round their heads.
Chief among these was a man rather over the ordinary height, with a
black beard and moustache in which the gray hairs were beginning to
appear. He was quite white, though of a sallow complexion, with a
high-hooked nose and deep black eyes of a most kindly expression, though
it was evident that if roused they could be stern and flashing. In his
left hand he carried a sheathed two-handed sword, innocent of guard. He
was closely followed by a boy about twelve years old carrying a
double-barrelled percussion rifle.
This was the famed Hamees ibu Sayf, otherwise known as Tipolo, the
principal among all the Arabs who in search of ivory and slaves had
crossed the Tanganyika. He exercised an authority among his fellows
which few cared to dispute. Upwards of two hundred freemen and slaves
from “the island,” and six hundred natives of Unyamwesi, all armed with
muskets, served him well and faithfully in the dual capacity of porters
and irregular troops.
Besides Hamees ibu Sayf, who alone was of the pure Arab blood of Muscat,
there were Wasuahili from “the island,” and Wamerima from the coast,
Muinyi Dugumbi, Habib wadi Nassur, Juma wadi Hamed, Muinyi Heri and
Hamad ibu Ghasib, all traders, but none of whom were able to muster more
than sixty or seventy guns individually. There were also several men
either free or the confidential slaves of men resident at Zanzibar, who
had followed the caravans of the larger traders with bodies of ten or a
dozen men each.
All these men may be dismissed without remark, save only Tipolo, who was
an extraordinary man, and who, if he had lived, might now be filling the
place occupied by Tipo-Tipo (Hamed ibu Hamed), who now exercises what is
practically supreme power from the Tanganyika to Stanley Falls on the
Congo. Tipolo was, I regret to say, a slave-trader. His followers were
often guilty of great cruelties, for he could not always be with them to
restrain them. He himself was a man of kindly disposition; and though
brave as a lion, and nothing loath to engage in war when he considered
it necessary or advantageous, was equally willing to make treaties with
the native chiefs, and was never known to depart from his plighted word.
Indeed, many times when other traders were engaged in hostilities with
chiefs whom he had promised to assist, if his words and remonstrances
were not heeded, he threw the weight of his armed men into the scale on
the side of the natives; and, contrary to the custom of many of the
Zanzibar travelling merchants, issued beads and other things to his men
to buy food, and would not permit them to live at free quarters among
the natives.
He now came and sat down where Hatibu, Bilal, and I were lying, and
said, gravely and courteously, “Good morning.” It was so long since I
had heard a word of my mother tongue, that it awoke many emotions in my
breast, and unbidden tears forced themselves to my eyes as I eagerly
answered. The sound of English even from my own mouth seemed strange to
me. But great was my disappointment when I found he could not understand
me, and that his whole stock of English consisted only of the two words
“Good morning.”
He now questioned Hatibu about the recent occurrences. Some of the
slaves we had liberated proved faithful to their trust, and had brought
him news of our desperate plight. No time had been lost in coming to our
relief. He said that now he would utterly destroy the power of Mona
Mkulla’s successor, and give such a lesson to the natives that never
again would they dare to attack a follower of Tipolo.
For some days we remained in this place, and I am sorry to say that
Tipolo’s intentions were ruthlessly carried out. Every day strings of
captives laden with ivory and whatever else had value in the eyes of
their captors were brought into camp. News of villages burned,
plantations destroyed, and men killed fighting in defence of their
liberty, their families, and their homes, formed the sole topic of
conversation.
I tried hard to cause Tipolo to give orders for the work of revenge and
extermination to cease; but he said his word was plighted to the other
traders that they would carry out the work of plunder to the utmost, and
having an opportunity such as rarely, if ever, had occurred before, they
were loath to desist. His Wanyamwesi also, unless they were permitted to
make slaves, would probably prove unruly, and might perhaps even desert
_en masse_, and leave him without the means of transporting the ivory he
had collected to the coast.
By degrees I won over Muinyi Heri, Habib wadi Nassur, and others to the
side of mercy; but Muinyi Dugumbi would not listen to my pleadings. At
last Tipolo said that for one man’s lust of wealth the war should no
longer be carried on, and gave the word for the march to Nyangwe. He
told Muinyi Dugumbi that if he did not tell his followers to cease from
plunder he would turn his Wanyamwesi against them; and Muinyi sullenly
consented.
The wounds of Hatibu, Bilal, and myself, which we had received in our
desperate defence of our lives, did not permit us to walk, and litters
were constructed on which we were carried. It was with feelings of joy
and thankfulness that we commenced our journey towards Nyangwe, the
first step towards the coast and of my return to my own people. I need
hardly say that my opinion about the delights of African travel had been
considerably modified since I and my brother Willie used to talk, on
board the _Petrel_, of the wonderful journeys of Livingstone.
Among Tipolo’s domestic slaves were some who understood the noble art of
cookery in a more extended sense than any persons I had hitherto met
with in the Dark Continent, and with good food, careful nursing, and
revived hope, my wounds recovered so quickly that before half the
journey to Nyangwe was
[Illustration: BANKS OF THE LUABBA.
_Page 277._]
completed, I was able for a good portion of each day’s march to quit my
litter and walk. When I did I always kept near Tipolo, and saw plenty of
proof that he carried out his orders about the proper treatment of
natives. In one village which we passed through some women came and
complained of some men, just gone before, who had gone into a hut and
stolen a quantity of plantains. He at once had the men recalled and made
them restore their plunder. He took from them some beads and gave them
to the women, and then dismissed the culprits with some sound blows from
his walking-stick.
At last we sighted the large river on which Nyangwe is situated, and I
was astonished to see such a flow of water so far away from the sea. On
the side on which we approached there was a wide strip of low country,
flooded in the rainy season; whilst on the other, or right side, the
banks of the river rose in small cliffs about twenty or twenty-five feet
high.
Close to the river on the left bank were villages which are deserted in
the rains, but which were now inhabited by people called the Wagenya.
These seemed one and all to be engaged in making pots of various shapes
and sizes out of the clay obtained from pools left by the river when
falling. While in the woods, we had come across men cutting down trees
and fashioning them into canoes.
We struck the river some little distance above Nyangwe, and from the
natives Tipolo managed to hire some canoes, in which he and his
immediate followers, together with Hatibu, Bilal, and myself, embarked,
and with the aid of a current which must have run from four to five
knots an hour we reached Nyangwe about nine o’clock in the morning,
having left those who were to follow by land about six. The river was
full of islands. On the larger were villages inhabited by a tribe quite
different in their habits and pursuits from the Wagenya, who lived on
the left bank. On the numerous sand-banks were quantities of duck and
other wild-fowl, while the water abounded with fish, hippopotami, and
crocodiles. We passed many canoes between the islands and the shore,
some with their occupants engaged in fishing. Their numbers kept on
increasing as we drew nearer to Nyangwe, which I quite expected to find
a very large place from the number of people I saw going there.
I tried to find out from my companions what was the cause of such a
concourse of people, but the only answer I could get was, “Soko
leo”--that is, Soko to-day. As I had seen the monkeys that had acted as
masters of the ceremonies on the occasion of my first introduction to
Hatibu, the words puzzled me exceedingly. What could “Monkeys to-day”
mean? Was there going to be a great hunt of these monster apes, and were
all those people going to take part in it? Thicker and thicker grew the
canoes; and when a bluff crowned with some large houses with high
thatched roofs came in sight, I was told it was Nyangwe, and
[Illustration: GOING TO MARKET.
_Page 281._]
I saw that at the landing-place were literally hundreds of empty canoes.
Among these we made our way. We found that the other canoes which were
arriving at the same time were loaded with people bringing things for
sale, carried in large baskets upon the backs of women, the greater
portion of the weight being supported by a band over the forehead,
similar to the manner in which a fish-wife carries her creel.
On arriving at the houses we found a large open space close by crowded
with people buying and selling. On Tipolo saying to me, “There’s the
_soko_,” I learned that soko, besides being the name of an ape, also
meant a market.
There must have been at least two thousand people present--the
representatives of many tribes, who, though hostile to each other in all
other places, met in this and other markets without fighting or strife.
The Wagenya were there with their pottery. Others brought fish, both
dried and fresh. Pigs, fowls, eggs, grain, ground-nuts, bananas, palm
oil, goats, were bartered for such things as their possessors wanted,
while for a few beads and cowries the Arab traders were able to obtain
provisions for their numerous followers. The noise and confusion were
indescribable. Buyers and sellers were so crowded together that it was
almost impossible to make way through them, though apparently there was
space enough for the market people to have spread themselves about and
carried on their business in comfort, instead of jostling against each
other and damaging many of their wares.
When we got through this mass of humanity we found ourselves before a
large house with a large veranda, the floor of which was raised about
two feet above the ground. Here mats and cushions were spread, and soon
traders and their men crowded round, longing to learn what our news was.
Hatibu and Bilal were welcomed by their wives with loud expressions of
joy. The wives of the poor fellows who had been killed were most noisy
and demonstrative in their grief, daubing themselves with white, and
going round to all the houses of the settlement, wailing and clapping
their hands in a measured cadence.
The news of the success of Tipolo in his expedition, was received with
much applause, while admiration was lavished on Hatibu, Bilal, and the
Mzungu (European) for the bravery they had displayed. We were likened to
_simba_ (lions), _mwamba_ (crocodiles), _tembe_ (elephants), and _mboys_
(or buffaloes); and much wonder was expressed that I, a white man, had
come from the farther sea, of the existence and position of which the
people assembled had only a dim and distant knowledge. They were
astonished that I had passed years among the Washenzi, or heathen, as
the people of “the island” call all the pagan tribes of Central Africa,
without being killed and eaten. But their astonishment rose to its
greatest height when they heard that I had escaped from the dwarfs,
whose quiver of poisoned
[Illustration: NYANGWE MARKET.
_Page 281._]
arrows I had preserved, for they were indeed _watu wabaya_ (bad men),
and _mkali kama moto_ (hot as fire).
As soon as our budget was exhausted Tipolo inquired what had occurred
during his absence. Two men were brought to him who had arrived only the
evening before with the news that his brother Hamed ibu Sayf would
arrive in a few days from Ujiji, where he had been to bring up goods
left behind when Tipolo quitted that place; and that the road between it
and Unyanyembe, which had for some time been closed by the Watuta (a
robber tribe), was again open. As soon as he heard this, Tipolo said
that when his brother arrived he would at once despatch a caravan to the
coast with part of the ivory he had collected. He told me also that I
should go with it, and that its command would be given to Hatibu. To
Hatibu and Bilal he now gave their freedom, as a reward for their
bravery, presenting Hatibu with twelve slaves and six tusks of ivory,
and to Bilal he gave eight slaves and four tusks.
By this time the market was over. Though the only traces of there having
been such an enormous assemblage of people gathered together were the
trampled condition of the ground and the litter left behind, on walking
to the bluff overhanging the river I could see the canoes dispersing in
all directions.
A comfortable room in Tipolo’s house was now placed at my disposal.
Clothes were given me to dress myself in, coffee with sugar in it, and
bread made of wheaten flour, were given to me--luxuries to which I had
been a stranger for many a long day. Though I knew that a long,
toilsome, and perhaps dangerous journey still lay before me, I had no
forebodings. When I retired to rest that night I thanked God truly and
earnestly for having preserved me from all the dangers through which I
had passed in my years of African travel, for the good treatment I had
received at the hands of Tipolo and Hatibu, and for having brought me at
last to a place of safety.