DESCRIBES SEVERAL NEW AND SURPRISING INCIDENTS, WHICH MUST BE READ TO BE
FULLY APPRECIATED.
To travel with one's mouth and eyes opened to nearly their utmost width
in a state of surprised stupefaction, may be unavoidable, but it cannot
be said to be either becoming or convenient. Attention in such a case
is apt to be diverted from the business in hand, and flies have a
tendency to immolate themselves in the throat.
Nevertheless, inconvenient though the condition was, our friend Disco
Lillihammer was so afflicted with astonishment at what he heard and saw
in this new land, that he was constantly engaged in swallowing flies and
running his canoe among shallows and rushes, insomuch that he at last
resigned the steering-oar until familiarity with present circumstances
should tone him down to a safe condition of equanimity.
And no wonder that Disco was surprised; no wonder that his friend Harold
Seadrift shared in his astonishment and delight, for they were at once,
and for the first time in their lives, plunged into the very heart of
jungle life in equatorial Africa! Those who have never wandered far
from the comparatively tame regions of our temperate zone, can form but
a faint conception of what it is to ramble in the tropics, and therefore
can scarcely be expected to sympathise fully with the mental condition
of our heroes as they ascended the Zambesi. Everything was so
thoroughly strange; sights and sounds so vastly different from what they
had been accustomed to see and hear, that it seemed as though they had
landed on another planet. Trees, shrubs, flowers, birds, beasts,
insects, and reptiles, all were unfamiliar, except indeed, one or two of
the more conspicuous trees and animals, which had been so imprinted on
their minds by means of nursery picture-books that, on first beholding
them, Disco unconsciously paid these books the compliment of saying that
the animals "wos uncommon like the picturs."
Disco's mental condition may be said, for the first two or three days,
to have been one of gentle ever-flowing surprise, studded thickly with
little bursts of keen astonishment.
The first part of the river ran between mangrove jungle, in regard to
which he remarked that "them there trees had legs like crabs," in which
observation he was not far wrong, for, when the tide was out, the roots
of the mangroves rose high out of the mud, forming supports, as it were,
for the trees to stand on.
But it was the luxuriance of the vegetation that made the most powerful
impression on the travellers. It seemed as if the various groups and
families of the vegetable kingdom had been warmed by the sun into a
state of unwonted affection, for everything appeared to entertain the
desire to twine round and embrace everything else. One magnificent
screw-palm in particular was so overwhelmed by affectionate parasites
that his natural shape was almost entirely concealed. Others of the
trees were decked with orchilla weed. There were ferns so gigantic as
to be almost worthy of being styled trees, and palm-bushes so sprawling
as to suggest the idea of huge vegetable spiders. Bright yellow fruit
gleamed among the graceful green leaves of the mangroves; wild
date-palms gave variety to the scene, if that had been needed, which it
was not, and masses of umbrageous plants with large yellow flowers grew
along the banks, while, down among the underwood, giant roots rose in
fantastic convolutions above ground, as if the earth were already too
full, and there wasn't room for the whole of them. There was an
antediluvian magnificence, a prehistoric snakiness, a sort of primeval
running-to-seedness, which filled Harold and Disco with feelings of awe,
and induced a strange, almost unnatural tendency to regard Adam and Eve
as their contemporaries.
Animal life was not wanting in this paradise. Frequently did our seaman
give vent to "Hallo!" "There they go!" "Look out for the little 'un
wi' the long tail!" and similar expressions, referring of course to his
favourite monkeys, which ever and anon peered out upon the strangers
with looks of intensity, for whatever their expression might be--
sadness, grief, interrogation, wrath, surprise--it was always in the
superlative degree. There were birds also, innumerable. One, styled
the "king-hunter," sang wild exultant airs, as if it found king-hunting
to be an extremely exhilarating occupation, though what sort of kings it
hunted we cannot tell. Perhaps it was the king of beasts, perhaps the
kingfisher, a bright specimen of which was frequently seen to dart out
from the banks, but we profess ignorance on this point. There were
fish-hawks also, magnificent fellows, which sat in regal dignity on the
tops of the mangrove trees, and the glossy ibis, with others of the
feathered tribe too numerous to mention.
Large animals also were there in abundance, though not so frequently
seen as those which have been already mentioned. Disco occasionally
made known the fact that such, or something unusual, had transpired, by
the sudden and violent exclamation of "What's that?" in a voice so loud
that "that," whatever it might be, sometimes bolted or took to flight
before any one else caught sight of it.
"Hallo!" he exclaimed, on one such occasion, as the canoes turned a bend
of the river.
"What now?" demanded Harold, looking at his companion to observe the
direction of his eyes.
"I'm a Dutchman," exclaimed Disco in a hoarse whisper that might have
been heard half a mile off, "if it's not a zebra!"
"So it is; my rifle--look sharp!" said Harold eagerly.
The weapon was handed to him, but before it could be brought to bear,
the beautiful striped creature had tossed its head, snorted, whisked its
tail, kicked up its heels, and dashed into the jungle.
"Give way, lads; let's after him," shouted Disco, turning the canoe's
bow to shore.
"Hold on," cried Harold; "you might as well go after a needle in a
haystack, or a locomotive."
"So I might," admitted Disco, with a mortified air, resuming his course;
"but it ain't in reason to expect a feller to keep quiet w'en he sees
one o' the very picturs of his child'ood, so to speak, come alive an'
kick up its heels like that."
Buffaloes were also seen in the grassy glades, but it proved difficult
to come within range of them; also wart-hogs, and three different kinds
of antelope.
Of these last Harold shot several, and they were found to be excellent
food.
Human beings were also observed, but those first encountered fled at the
sight of the white men, as if they had met with their worst foes; and
such was in very truth the case,--if we may regard the Portuguese
half-castes of that coast as white men,--for these negroes were runaway
slaves, who stood the chance of being shot, or drowned, or whipped to
death, if recaptured.
Other animals they saw--some queer, some terrible, nearly all strange--
and last, though not least, the hippopotamus.
When Disco first saw this ungainly monster he was bereft of speech for
some minutes. The usual "Hallo!" stuck in his throat and well-nigh
choked him. He could only gasp, and point.
"Ay, there goes a hippopotamus," said Harold, with the easy nonchalance
of a man who had been to the Zoological Gardens, and knew all about it.
Nevertheless it was quite plain that Harold was much excited, for he
almost dropped his oar overboard in making a hasty grasp at his rifle.
Before he could fire, the creature gaped wide, as if in laughter, and
dived.
"Unfortunate!" said Harold, in a philosophically careless tone; "never
mind, we shall see lots more of them."
"Ugliness embodied!" said Disco, heaving a deep sigh.
"But him's goot for eat," said Antonio, smacking his lips.
"Is he?" demanded Disco of Jumbo, whose enjoyment of the sailor's
expressive looks was so great, that, whenever the latter opened his
lips, the former looked back over his shoulder with a broad grin of
expectation.
"Ho yis; de hiputmus am fust-rate grub for dis yer boy," replied the
negro, rolling his red tongue inside his mouth suggestively.
"He never eats man, does he?" inquired Disco.
"Nevair," replied Antonio.
"He looks as if he might," returned the seaman; "anyhow, he's got a
mouth big enough to do it. You're quite sure he don't, I 'spose?"
"Kite sure an' sartin; but me hab seen him tak mans," said Antonio.
"Tak mans, wot d'ee mean by that?"
"Tak him," repeated Antonio. "Go at him's canoe or boat--bump with
him's head--dash in de timbers--capsize, so's man hab to swim shore--all
as got clear ob de crokidils."
While Disco was meditating on this unpleasant trait of character in the
hippopotamus, the specimen which they had just seen, or some other
member of his family, having compassion, no doubt, on the seaman's
ignorance, proceeded to illustrate its method of attack then and there
by rising suddenly under the canoe with such force, that its head and
shoulders shot high out of the water, into which it fell with a heavy
splash. Harold's rifle being ready, he fired just as it was
disappearing.
Whether he hit or not is uncertain, but next moment the enraged animal
rose again under Disco's canoe, which it nearly lifted out of the water
in its efforts to seize it in its mouth. Fortunately the canoe was too
flat for its jaws to grip; the monster's blunt teeth were felt, as well
as heard, to grind across the planks; and Disco being in the stern,
which was raised highest, was almost thrown overboard by the jerk.
Rising about two yards off, the hippopotamus looked savagely at the
canoe, and was about to dive again when Harold gave it a second shot.
The large gun being fortunately ready, had been handed to him by one of
the Makololo men. The heavy ball took effect behind the eye, and killed
the animal almost instantaneously. The hippopotamus usually sinks when
shot dead, but in this case they were so near that, before it had time
to sink, Zombo, assisted by his friend Jumbo, made a line fast to it,
and it was finally dragged to the shore. The landing, however, was much
retarded by the crocodiles, which now showed themselves for the first
time, and kept tugging and worrying the carcase much as a puppy tugs and
worries a ladies' muff; affording Disco and his friend strong reason to
congratulate themselves that the canoe had not been overturned.
The afternoon was pretty well advanced when the landing was accomplished
on a small sandy island, and as the spot was suitable for encamping,
they determined to remain there for the night, and feast.
There are many points of resemblance between savage and civilised
festivities. Whether the performers be the black sons of Africa, or the
white fathers of Europe, there is the same powerful tendency to eat too
much, and the same display of good-fellowship; for it is an indisputable
fact that feeding man is amiable, unless, indeed, he be dyspeptic.
There are also, however, various points of difference. The savage,
owing to the amount of fresh air and exercise which he is compelled to
take, usually eats with greater appetite, and knows nothing of equine
dreams or sleepless nights. On the whole, we incline to the belief
that, despite his lack of refinement and ceremony, the savage has the
best of it in this matter.
Disco Lillihammer's visage, during the progress of that feast, formed a
study worthy of a physiognomist. Every new achievement, whether
trifling or important, performed by the Makololo triad, Jumbo, Zombo,
and Masiko--every fresh hippopotamus steak skewered and set up to roast
by the half-caste brothers Jose and Oliveira--every lick bestowed on
their greasy fingers by the Somali negroes Nakoda and Conda, and every
sigh of intense satisfaction heaved by the so-called "freemen" of
Quillimane, Songolo and Mabruki, was watched, commented on, and, if we
may say so, reflected in the animated countenance of the stout seaman,
with such variety of expression, and such an interesting compound of
grin and wrinkle, that poor Jumbo, who gazed at him over hippopotamus
ribs and steaks, and tried hard not to laugh, was at last compelled to
turn away his eyes, in order that his mouth might have fair-play.
But wonderful, sumptuous, and every way satisfactory though that feast
was, it bore no comparison whatever to another feast carried on at the
same time by another party, about fifty yards off, where the carcase of
the hippopotamus had been left half in and half out of the water--for,
of course, being fully more than a ton in weight, only a small portion
of the creature was appropriated by the canoe-men. The negroes paid no
attention whatever to this other festive party; but in a short time
Disco turned his head to one side, and said--"Wy, wot's that splashin' I
hears goin' on over there?"
"I suspect it must be some beast or other that has got hold of the
carcase," replied Harold, who was himself busy with a portion of the
same.
"Yis, dat am krokidils got 'im," said Antonio, with his mouth full--very
full.
"You don't say so?" said Disco, washing down the steak with a brimming
cup of tea.
No one appeared to think it worth while to asseverate the fact, for it
was self-evident. Several crocodiles were supping, and in doing so they
tore away at the carcase with such violence, and lashed the water so
frequently with their powerful tails, as to render it clear that their
feast necessitated laborious effort, and seemed less a recreation than a
duty. Moreover, they sat at their meat like insatiable gourmands, so
long into the night that supper became transmuted into breakfast, and
Harold's rest was greatly disturbed thereby. He was too sleepy and
lazy, however, to rise and drive them away.
Next morning the travellers started early, being anxious to pass, as
quietly as possible, a small Portuguese town, near to which it was said
a party of runaway slaves and rebels against the Government were engaged
in making depredations.
When grey dawn was beginning to rise above the tree-tops, they left
their encampment in profound silence, and rowed up stream as swiftly as
possible. They had not advanced far, when, on turning a point covered
with tall reeds, Zombo, who was bowman in the leading canoe, suddenly
made a sign to the men to cease rowing.
"What's the matter?" whispered Harold.
The negro pointed through the reeds, and whispered the single word
"Canoe."
By this time the other canoe had ranged up alongside, and after a brief
consultation between Harold and Disco, it was decided that they should
push gently into the reeds, and wait till the strange canoe should pass;
but a few seconds sufficed to show that the two men who paddled it did
not intend to pass down the river, for they pushed straight out towards
the deepest part of the stream. They were, however, carried down so
swiftly by the current that they were brought quite near to the point of
rushes where our travellers lay concealed--so near that their voices
could be distinctly heard. They talked in Portuguese.
Antonio muttered a few words, and Harold observed that there was a good
deal of excitement in the looks of his men.
"What's the matter?" he asked anxiously.
Antonio shook his head. "Dat nigger goin' to be drownded," he said;
"bad nigger--obstropolous nigger, suppose."
"Wot!" exclaimed Disco in a whisper, "goin' to be drownded! wot d'ee
mean?"
Antonio proceeded to explain that it was a custom amongst the Portuguese
slave-owners there, when they found any of their slaves intractable or
refractory, to hire some individuals who, for a small sum, would bind
and carry off the incorrigible for the purpose of making away with him.
One method of effecting this was to tie him in a sack and throw him into
the river, the crocodiles making quite sure that the unfortunate being
should never again be seen, either alive or dead. But before Antonio
had finished his brief explanation he was interrupted by an exclamation
from the horrified Englishmen, as they beheld the two men in the canoe
raise something between them which for a moment appeared to struggle
violently.
"Shove off! give way!" shouted Harold and Disco in the same breath, each
thrusting with his paddle so vigorously that the two canoes shot out
like arrows into the stream.
At the same instant there was a heavy plunge in the water beside the
strange canoe, and the victim sank. Next moment one end of the sack
rose to the surface. Both Harold and Disco made straight towards it,
but it sank again, and the two murderers paddled to the shore, on which
they drew up their canoe, intending to take to the bush, if necessary,
for safety.
Once again the sack rose not more than three yards from Disco's canoe.
The bold seaman knew that if it disappeared a third time there would be
little chance of its rising again. He was prompt in action, and daring
to recklessness. In one moment he had leaped overboard, dived, caught
the sack in his powerful grasp, and bore it to the surface. The canoe
had been steered for him. The instant he appeared, strong and ready
hands laid hold of him and his burden, and dragged them both inboard.
"Cut the lashin's and give him air," cried Disco, endeavouring to find
his clasp-knife; but one of the men quickly obeyed the order, and opened
the sack.
A groan of horror and pity burst from the seaman when he beheld the
almost insensible form of a powerful negro, whose back was lacerated
with innumerable ragged cuts, and covered with clotted blood.
"Where are the--"
He stopped short on looking round, and, observing that the two men were
standing on the shore, seized a double-barrelled gun. The stream had
carried the canoe a considerable distance below the spot where the
murder had been attempted, but they were still within range. Without a
moment's hesitation Disco took deliberate aim at them and fired.
Fortunately for him and his party Disco was a bad shot--nevertheless the
bullet struck so close to the feet of the two men that it drove the sand
and pebbles into their faces. They turned at once and fled, but before
they reached the cover of the bushes the second barrel was fired, and
the bullet whistled close enough over their heads greatly to accelerate
their flight.
The negroes opened their great round eyes, and appeared awe-struck at
this prompt display of a thirst for vengeance on the part of one who had
hitherto shown no other disposition than hilarity, fun, and good-humour.
Harold was greatly relieved to observe Disco's failure, for, if he had
hit either of the fugitives, the consequences might have been very
disastrous to their expedition.
On being partially revived and questioned, it turned out that the poor
fellow had been whipped almost to death for refusing to be the
executioner in whipping his own mother. This was a refinement in
cruelty on the part of these professedly Christian Portuguese, which our
travellers afterwards learned was by no means uncommon.
We are told by those who know that region well, and whose veracity is
unquestionable, that the Portuguese on the east coast of Africa live in
constant dread of their slaves rising against them. No wonder,
considering the fiendish cruelties to which they subject them! In order
to keep them in subjection they underfeed them, and if any of them
venture to steal cocoa-nuts from the trees the owners thereof are at
liberty to shoot them and throw them into the sea. Slaves being cheap
there, and plentiful, are easily replaced, hence a cruel owner never
hesitates. If a slave is refractory, and flogging only makes him worse,
his master bids the overseer flog him until "he will require no more."
Still further to keep them in subjection, the Portuguese then endeavour
to eradicate from them all sympathy with each other, and all natural
affection, by the following means. If a woman requires to be flogged,
her brother or son is selected to do it. Fathers are made to flog their
daughters, husbands their wives, and, if two young negroes of different
sexes are observed to show any symptoms of growing attachment for each
other, these two are chosen for each other's executioners. [See
_Travels in Eastern Africa_, by Lyons McLeod, Esquire, FRGS, and late
Her Britannic Majesty's Consul at Mozambique, volume one pages 274 to
277, and volume two page 27.]
The poor wretch whom we have just described as having been saved from
death, to which he had been doomed for refusing to become the
executioner of his own mother, was placed as tenderly and comfortably as
circumstances would admit of in the bottom of the canoe, and then our
travellers pushed on with all haste--anxious to pass the town before the
two fugitives could give the alarm.
They were successful in this, probably because the two men may have hid
themselves for some time in the jungle, under the impression that the
exasperated Englishmen might be searching for them on shore.
Giving themselves time only to take a hurried meal in the middle of the
day, our travellers rowed continuously till sunset when, deeming it
probable that pursuit, if undertaken at all, must have been abandoned,
they put ashore on the right bank of the river and encamped.
When the sufferer had been made as comfortable as circumstances would
allow--for he was much weakened by loss of blood as well as agonised
with pain--and after he had been refreshed with food and some warm tea,
Harold questioned him, through the interpreter, as to his previous
history.
At first the man was brusque in his manner, and inclined to be sulky,
for a long course of cruelty had filled him with an intense hatred of
white men. Indeed, an embittered and desperate spirit had begun to
induce callous indifference to all men, whether white or black. But
kind treatment, to which he was evidently unaccustomed, and generous
diet, which was obviously new to him, had a softening influence, and
when Harold poured a small glass of rum into his tea, and Antonio added
a lump of sugar, and Disco pressed him tenderly to drink it off--which
he did--the effect was very decided; the settled scowl on his face
became unsettled, and gradually melting away, was replaced by a milder
and more manly look. By degrees he became communicative, and, bit by
bit, his story was drawn from him. It was brief, but very sorrowful.
His name, he said, was Chimbolo. He belonged to a tribe which lived far
inland, beyond the Manganja country, which latter was a country of
hills. He was not a Manganja man, but he had married a Manganja woman.
One night he, with his wife and mother, was paying a visit to the
village of his wife's relations, when a band of slave-hunters suddenly
attacked the village. They were armed with guns, and at once began to
murder the old people and capture the young. Resistance was useless.
His relatives were armed only with bows and spears. Being taken by
surprise, they all fled in terror, but were pursued and few escaped.
His wife, he said--and a scowl of terrible ferocity crossed Chimbolo's
face as he said it--was about to become a mother at the time. He seized
her in his arms on the first alarm, and fled with her into the bush,
where he concealed her, and then hurried back to aid his relations, but
met them--old and young, strong and feeble--flying for their lives. It
was not possible to rally them; he therefore joined in the flight.
While running, a bullet grazed his head and stunned him. Presently he
recovered and rose, but in a few minutes was overtaken and captured. A
slave-stick was put on his neck, and, along with a number of Manganja
men, women, and children, he was driven down to the coast, and sold,
with a number of other men and women, among whom was his own mother, to
a Portuguese merchant on the coast, near the East Luavo mouth of the
Zambesi. There he was found to be of a rebellious spirit, and at last
on positively refusing to lash his mother, his master ordered him to be
whipped to death, but, changing his mind before the order had been quite
carried out he ordered him to be bound hand and foot and taken away in a
sack. As to his wife, he had never heard of her since that night which
was about two years past. He knew that she had not been found, because
he had not seen her amongst the other captives. If they had found her
they would have been sure to carry her off, because--here Chimbolo's
visage again grew diabolical--she was young, he said, and beautiful.
When all this had been translated into bad English by Antonio, Harold
asked if Chimbolo thought it probable that his wife was still alive in
the Manganja highlands. To this the former said that he thought it
likely.
"W'y, then," said Disco, giving his right thigh a powerful slap, which
was his favourite method of emphasising a remark, "wot d'ye say, sir, to
lay our course for these same highlands, and try for to find out this
poor critter?"
"Just what was running in my own mind, Disco," said Harold, musing over
his supper. "It does not make much difference what part of this country
we go to, being all new to us; and as Antonio tells me the Manganja
highlands are up the Shire river, which was explored by Dr Livingstone
not long ago, and is not distant many days' journey from this, I think
we can't do better than go there. We shall have a good as well as a
definite object in view."
"Wery good, sir; I'm agreeable," returned Disco, reaching forth his
pewter plate; "another hunk o' that pottimus, Jumbo; it's better than
salt-junk any day; and I say, Jumbo, don't grin so much, else ye'll
enlarge yer pretty little mouth, which 'ud be a pity."
"Yis, saar," replied Jumbo, becoming very grave all of a sudden, but on
receiving a nod and an expressive wink from the seaman, he exploded
again, and rolled backward on the grass, in the performance of which act
he capsized Zombo's can of tea, whereupon Zombo leaped upon him in
wrath, and Masiko, as in duty bound, came to the rescue.
"Clap a stopper on yer noise, will 'ee?" cried Disco sternly, "else
you'll be bringin' all the wild beasts in these parts down on us to see
wot it's all about."
"That reminds me," said Harold, when quiet was restored, "that we must
now organise ourselves into something of a fighting band--a company, as
it were, of soldiers,--and take our regular spell of watching by night,
for, from all that I hear of the disturbed state of the country just
now, with these runaway slaves and rebels, it will be necessary to be on
our guard. Of course," he added, smiling, "I suppose I must be captain
of the company, and you, Disco, shall be lieutenant."
"Not at all," replied the seaman, shaking his head, and frowning at
Jumbo, whose brilliant teeth at once responded to the glance, "not at
all, none of your sodgerin' for me. I never could abide the lobsters.
Fust-mate, sir, that's wot _I_ am, if I'm to be expected to do my
dooty."
"Well then, first-mate be it," rejoined Harold, "and Antonio shall be
serjeant-major--"
"Bo's'n--bo's'n," suggested Disco; "keep up appearances wotiver ye do,
an' don't let the memory of salt water go down."
"Very good," said Harold, laughing; "then you shall be boatswain,
Antonio, as well as cook, and I will instruct you in the first part of
your duty, which will be to keep watch for an hour while the rest of us
sleep. My first-mate will teach you the whistling part of a boatswain's
duty, if that should be required--"
"Ah, and the roar," interrupted Disco, "a bo's'n would be nothin'
without his roar--"
At that moment the woods around them were filled with a tremendous and
very unexpected roar, which caused the whole party to spring up, and
induced the new bo's'n to utter a yell of terror that would have done
credit to the whistle of the most violent bo's'n on the sea. Next
moment the travellers were surrounded by a large and excited band of
armed negroes.