_FROM KRIGER’S TO MARANGA._
Oil to Doenyo Sabuk—Troubles of a safari—George takes a bath—The
Nairobi Falls—Eaten by ticks—My argument with a rhinoceros—The Athi
River—Good fishing—Lions—Camp near Doenyo Sabuk—We find the Athi
in flood—We build a raft—Kriger and Knapp bid us adieu—Failure of
our raft—We cross the Athi—I open a box of cigars—Crossing the
Thika-Thika—Bad country—We unexpectedly reach the Tana—The _détour_ to
the Maragua—Crossing the Maragua—In Kikuyuland.
Kriger and Knapp joined us on the morning of June 7th, and at 2 p.m.
we set out on our eventful journey. It was rather a rush at the last
moment, as so many things required adjustment. It was impossible to
foresee everything. I stopped behind as whipper-in for the first few
days, as the porters required something of the sort at the commencement
of a safari, in order to prevent desertions, and also to assist those
who fell out from fatigue.
On the first day I had a lot of trouble. The donkeys annoyed me
considerably; they were not used to their loads, and consequently
they kept slipping (the loads, not the donkeys), requiring constant
attention.
The porters also were very soft after their long carouse in the bazaar,
and every few yards one or another sat down beside his load, and swore,
by all the saints in his own particular calendar, that he could not,
and would not, go a step farther. It was my unpleasant duty to persuade
them otherwise. The consequence was, that on the evening of the first
day I got into a camp an hour after the others, quite tired out. It was
delightful to find dinner all ready and waiting. To misquote Kipling, I
“didn’t keep it waiting very long.”
The next morning we crossed one of the tributaries of the Athi River.
It was thickly overgrown from bank to bank with papyrus reeds, and we
were consequently obliged to cut a passage. The donkeys had also to be
unloaded, and their loads carried across. We got wet up to the knees in
the cold, slimy water, which did not add to our comfort. We passed a
rhinoceros on the road, but did not stop to shoot him as we were not in
want of meat.
Crossing another river an hour or so later, we made the passage easily
by the simple expedient of wading across up to our middles, without
troubling to undress or take our boots off; all except George, who
was riding the mule. He declared that he “wasn’t going to get wet!”
_we_ could be “silly cuckoos” if we liked! _he_ was “going to ride
across.” He attempted it; halfway across the mule slipped into deep
water, plunged furiously to recover itself, broke the girth, and George
and the mule made a glorious dive together into ten feet of water.
Jumping in, I succeeded in getting hold of the mule’s head while George
scrambled ashore, gasping with cold. In the mean time Kriger and Knapp
with El Hakim had got some distance ahead, leaving George and myself to
see the safari safely across. When we reached the other side we found
ourselves in a swamp, through which we had to wade for over a mile
before reaching firm ground. Then the porters struck in a body, saying
they were done up and utterly exhausted, and could go no further. I
eventually convinced them, not without a certain amount of difficulty,
however, that it would be to their interest to go on.
Soon afterwards I got a touch of sun, and my head ached horribly. I
then fastened the saddle on the mule with one of the stirrup straps,
and rode some of the way. We reached the Nairobi River towards the
close of the afternoon, and crossed by clambering over the boulders
plentifully strewn about the river bed. Just below were the Nairobi
Falls, which are about 100 feet deep, and extremely beautiful.
At the foot of the Falls the river flows through a deep, rocky glen,
which in point of beauty would take a first prize almost anywhere.
Great water-worn boulders, clothed with grey-green and purple mosses,
among which the water trickled and sparkled in tiny musical cascades;
ferns of rare beauty, and flowers of rich and varied hues, gave an
artistic finish to the whole; an effect still further accentuated by
the feathery tops of the graceful palms and tree ferns that grew boldly
out from the steep and rocky sides of that miniature paradise.
We found the others had camped a few yards away from the Falls. Kriger
and Knapp had been fishing, and had caught a lot of fine fish; Kriger
had also shot a congoni. I had my tent pitched, and immediately turned
in, as I felt very tired and feverish. Walking in a broiling sun, and
shouting at recalcitrant porters for eight and a half hours, on an
empty stomach, is not calculated to improve one physically or morally.
After a good night’s sleep I felt much better, and decided to walk
when we made a start next morning, handing the mule over to George,
who had been very seedy ever since we left Nairobi, the result of his
recent severe illness in Uganda. When the tents were struck, we headed
due northwards to Doenyo Sabuk, which was now beginning to show up
more clearly on the horizon. It was about twenty miles distant, and we
calculated that two days’ further marching would take us round it.
Soon after we started Knapp shot a guinea-fowl. He used a Winchester
repeating shot-gun, a perfectly horrible contrivance, of which he was
very proud. When the cartridges were ejected it clanked and rattled
like a collection of scrap iron being shaken in a sack.
During that march we had a maddening time with the ticks, with which
the Athi plains are infested. They were large, flat, red ticks, similar
to those I have seen in Rhodesia (_Ixodes plumbeus?_). They clung to
our clothing and persons like limpets to a rock. We should not have
minded a dozen or two, at least not so much, but they swarmed on us
literally in thousands. We halted every few moments while Ramathani
brushed us down, but, so soon as we were comparatively cleared of them,
we picked up a fresh batch from the long grass. They bite very badly,
and taking them by and large, as a sailor would say, they were very
powerful and vigorous vermin; almost as vigorous as the language we
wasted upon them.
About an hour after we started we sighted a rhinoceros fast asleep in
the grass, about three hundred yards down wind. George and I examined
him with the binoculars—the others were a mile ahead—and as we were not
out looking for rhinoceros just then, we passed on. We had proceeded
barely a quarter of a mile when a confused shouting from the rear
caused us to look round. The sleeping rhinoceros had wakened, and
proceeded to impress the fact upon the safari. Having winded the men
he incontinently charged them, and when George and I glanced back we
saw the ungainly brute trotting backwards and forwards among our loads,
which the men had hurriedly dropped while they scattered for dear life
over the landscape. It was certainly very awkward, as it looked very
much as if I should have to go back and slay it, which, I will confess,
I was very loth to do, as Ramathani was some distance ahead with all my
spare ammunition. The magazine of my ·303 contained only half a dozen
cartridges, with soft-nosed bullets. I diplomatically waited a while to
see if the brute felt disposed to move; but it was apparently perfectly
satisfied with its immediate surroundings, and stood over the deserted
loads snorting and stamping and looking exceedingly ugly.
The cattle and donkeys, which were under Jumbi’s charge, were also
coming up. Jumbi came as near as he dared, and then halted, and waited
in the rear till it should please the Bwana (meaning me) to drive the
“kifaru” away. The rest of the porters having scuttled to what they
considered a safe distance, sat down to await events with a stolid
composure born of utter irresponsibility.
I felt, under the circumstances, that it was incumbent upon me to
do something, it being so evidently expected; so I advanced towards
the rhinoceros, not without some inward trepidation, as I greatly
distrusted the ·303. Walking to within fifty yards of the spot where
it was stamping defiance, I shouted at it, and said shoo! as sometimes
that will drive them away. It did not move this beast, however, so,
mentally donning the black cap, I took careful aim, and planked a
bullet in his shoulder! If it was undecided before the beast soon made
up its mind then, and, jumping round like a cat, came straight for
me at a gallop, head down, ears and tail erect, and a nasty vicious
business-like look about the tip of his horn that gave me cold chills
down the spine. I don’t wish to deny that I involuntarily turned and
ran—almost anybody would, if they obeyed first impulses. I ran a few
yards, but reason returned, and I remembered El Hakim’s warning that
to run under such circumstances was almost invariably fatal. I turned
off sharply to the right, like the hunters in the story books, hoping
that my pursuer would pass me, and try one of the porters; but he
wouldn’t; he had only one desire in the wide, wide world, and that was
to interview me. I, on the other hand, was equally anxious not to be
interviewed, but I must admit that at the moment I did not quite see
how I was to avoid it. He was getting closer and closer at each stride,
so there being logically no other way, I stopped and faced him.
I therefore knelt down and worked my magazine for all I was worth,
fervently hoping that it would not jam. In less than ten seconds I put
four bullets into the enraged animal at short range. All four took
effect, as I distinctly saw the dust spurt from his hide in little
puffs where they struck. At the fourth shot he swerved aside, when
within fifteen yards of me, and as he turned I gave him my sixth and
last cartridge in the flank to hasten his departure; and very glad
indeed I was to see him go. He had six bullets in various parts of his
anatomy; but I expect they did little more than break the skin, though
the shock probably surprised him. He disappeared over a rise in the
ground a mile away, still going strong; while I assumed a nonchalant
and slightly bored air, and languidly ordered the men to take up their
scattered loads and resume the march.
An hour or so after we reached and crossed the Athi River. It was
a hot and dusty tramp. Kriger being some miles ahead, had, with a
laudable desire to guide us, fired the grass on his way. The result
was hardly what he anticipated. The immense clouds of smoke gave us
our direction perfectly well, but the fire barred our progress. Quite
half a dozen times we had to rush through a gap in the flames, half
choked and slightly singed. Once or twice I thought we should never get
the mules or donkeys through at all, but we chivied them past the fire
somehow. The burnt ground on the other side was simply horrible to walk
on. I fully realized what the sensations of the “cat on hot bricks”
of the proverb were. Kriger meant well, but, strange to say, neither
George nor I felt at all thankful. As a matter of fact, our language
was at times as hot as the ground underfoot, not so much on our own
account as on that of our poor barefooted men.
The Athi was not very wide at the point where we crossed, but a little
distance lower down it becomes a broad and noble stream flowing round
the north side of Doenyo Sabuk till it joins the T’savo River about
120 miles south-east of that mountain, the two combining to form the
Sabaki, which flows into the sea at Milindi. The Athi is full of fish,
and we saw fresh hippopotamus’ tracks near the spot where we camped at
midday.
After lunch George and I went fishing with Kriger and Knapp: net
result about 40 lbs. of fine fish, a large eel, and a mud turtle.
Afterwards Kriger and I went out shooting. We were very unlucky. Out on
the plains towards Doenyo Sabuk we saw vast herds of game, including
congoni, thompsonei, zebra, impala, and water-buck, but the country
was perfectly flat and open and the wind most vexatiously variable, so
that, do what we would, we could not get within range. I managed to
bag a hare with the before-mentioned piece of mechanism which Knapp
miscalled a shot-gun. Soon afterwards we were traversing some broken
rocky ground when Kriger suddenly exclaimed, “Look, there are some wild
pig!” We started after them, and got within a hundred yards before we
discovered that the supposed wild pig were a magnificent black-maned
lion and four lionesses. They spotted us almost as soon as we had seen
them, and when we tried to get near enough for a shot they walked into
a patch of tall reeds and remained there growling, nor would they show
themselves again. We did not think it good enough to tackle five lions
in thick reeds, so we reluctantly withdrew.
Kriger had shot a lion some months previously, and was attacked and
badly mauled by the lioness while examining the prostrate body of
his quarry, his left arm being bitten through in several places. He
struggled with her for some minutes, forcing his arm between her open
jaws, and thereby preventing her from seizing his shoulder or throat.
His life was only saved by a sudden fall backwards over a bank which
was concealed by the undergrowth. The lioness was so surprised by
his complete and utterly unexpected disappearance that, casting a
bewildered look around, she turned and fled.
We continued our hunt for game, and presently Kriger wounded a congoni.
It appeared very badly hit, and we followed it for several miles in
the hope that it would drop; but it seemed to get stronger with every
step, and finally, to our great disgust and disappointment, joined
a herd and galloped away, while we sat down on the hard cold ground
and bemoaned our luck. On the way back to camp—and a weary walk it
was—we shot another solitary congoni at three hundred yards’ range,
and fortunately hit him; but we put three bullets each into the beast
before it dropped, so remarkably tenacious of life are these animals.
We returned to camp at dusk, thoroughly tired out. I retired to rest
immediately after dinner, thus concluding a not entirely uneventful day.
We did not march the next day, as El Hakim wished to examine the
surrounding country from a farming and stock-raising point of view. He
and Kriger rode off on the mules after breakfast with that intention.
Knapp and I went fishing, while George—sensible chap—laid himself on
the grass in the shade and watched us. Knapp caught one very fine fish
weighing over 9 lbs., while I caught only two small fish and a sharp
attack of fever. I returned to camp and climbed into my blankets. In
an hour and a half my temperature rose to 105°, and I felt very queer
indeed; but towards evening I recovered sufficiently to eat a little.
El Hakim and Kriger returned at 6 p.m., having explored the adjacent
country to their satisfaction, and on their return journey they shot a
zebra and a congoni. Zebra meat is excellent eating, especially if it
has been hung for three or four days. When cooked it is firm and white,
in appearance somewhat resembling veal. We always secured the strip of
flesh on each side of the backbone, called by the Swahilis “salala”
(saddle), and also the under-cut, or “salala n’dani” (inside saddle),
for our private consumption. The kidneys are very large, as big as
one’s fist; and they, as are also the brains, are excellent eating when
fried in hippo fat.
We started at 7 a.m. on the following morning, El Hakim, Kriger, and
Knapp going a long way ahead, leaving George and myself with the big
mule, to look after the safari. George was still so queer that he could
hardly sit on the mule. He was constantly vomiting, and at every
fresh paroxysm the mule shied, so that poor George had anything but a
cheerful time. I did not know the way, and depended wholly for guidance
on the spoor of the others who had started early.
Soon after starting, a pair of rhinoceros charged us, scattering the
safari far and wide over the plain in a medley of men, loads, donkeys,
and cattle. I went back with the 8-bore, which I had kept close to me
since my experience two days before, but before I could get near them
they made off again, nearly getting foul of Jumbi in their retreat. He
had hidden himself in the grass, and they passed within a dozen yards
of him without becoming aware of his presence.
I have mentioned that I was depending for guidance on the spoor of that
portion of the caravan which had preceded me, so it can be imagined
that I was exceedingly surprised to come upon a party of the men who
had left camp before me, sitting down waiting for me to come up. On
being questioned they stated that the “m’sungu” (white men) were “huko
m’beli” (somewhere ahead), but as they had lagged behind, and so lost
them, they had waited for me to come up and show them the way. I was
in something of a quandary, as, the ground being very rough and stony,
no tracks were visible. After a moment’s consideration I decided to
make for the north end of Doenyo Sabuk, which was quite near, as I knew
the others intended going somewhere in that direction. On the road I
stalked and shot a congoni, but my Swahili aristocrats refused to touch
the meat, as I, and not they, had cut its throat, consequently it was
“haran” (_i.e._ sinful, forbidden). They were much less fastidious
later on, and ate with avidity far less palatable food than freshly
killed congoni.
After a solid eight hours’ march I came up with the others. They had
camped on the right bank of the Athi, which at this place is very broad
and deep. It makes a vast curve here from due north to south-east, so
that we were still on the wrong side of it, and would have to recross
it in order to reach the Tana River. Kriger and Knapp were, as usual,
fishing, and had caught some magnificent fish, averaging 9 lbs. to
10 lbs. each. On our arrival in camp, George and I had a refreshing
wash and a cup of tea, which revived us considerably. In the evening
I shot a crested crane (_Belearica Pavonina_) with the ·303. George
went to bed early, as he was very weak and exhausted; I did not feel
very bright either, after the smart attack of fever I had had the day
before, coupled with that day’s eight-hour tramp in a blazing sun.
We did not move on the following day, as El Hakim wished to examine the
surrounding country. He and Kriger accordingly saddled up the mules and
made another excursion. They saw a leopard on the road about a mile out
of camp, but the man who was carrying their guns was, unfortunately,
some distance in the rear at the time. I believe El Hakim used bad
language, but I could not say for certain, though I do know the
gun-bearer looked very sorry for himself when they returned to camp in
the evening. They saw some very pretty falls on the river lower down,
situated in the midst of a very lovely stretch of park-like scenery. El
Hakim was quite enthusiastic about them.
We spent the next day looking for a place to cross the river. It was
from this camp that Kriger and Knapp were to return to their station,
and our journey was really to begin. We examined a ford that Kriger
knew of, two hours’ journey up the river, but found the river in flood
and the ford deep water. On the way back El Hakim shot a congoni,
which gave us a much-needed supply of fresh meat. As there seemed no
other way out of the difficulty, we decided to build a raft. We found
it a very tough task, there being no material at hand, as the wood
growing near was all mimosa thorn, so hard and heavy when green that
it will hardly float in water. We spent all the afternoon, waist-deep
in the river, lashing logs together with strips of raw hide cut from
the congoni skins. When the raft was finished, just before sundown,
it looked very clumsy and unserviceable, and we had very grave doubts
of its utility, as the volume of water in the river was very great,
and the pressure on such an unwieldy structure was bound to be
enormous—much more than any rope of ours would stand. However, that was
a question that the morrow would decide; so we moored the raft to an
island a few yards from the bank, and went back to camp for dinner.
We dined on the crane I had shot two days before. It was as large
as a small turkey, and splendid eating, though my ·303 had rather
damaged it. El Hakim and I sat up late into the night, making final
arrangements and writing letters, which Kriger was to take back with
him next morning, when we intended to make a determined effort to cross
the river _en route_ for Mount Kenia and the “beyond.”
Kriger and Knapp returned to Nairobi early on the morning of June 14th.
They took our remaining cattle back, as we found them too much trouble,
and El Hakim had others at Munithu, in North Kenia, which we could
use if we required them for trade purposes. We bade them adieu, and
they returned the compliment, wishing us all kinds of luck. They then
departed on their homeward journey.
[Illustration: THE ATHI RIVER NEAR DOENYO SABUK.]
[Illustration: CROSSING AN AFFLUENT OF THE SAGANA. (See page 50.)]
We found our raft waterlogged and almost entirely useless, but we
determined to try what we could do with it. We had great difficulty
in persuading the men to go into the water, but managed it at last,
and got a rope across the river with which to haul the raft over. We
put two loads on it, and though they were got safely across they were
soaked through, and once or twice very nearly lost. When we tried to
haul our raft back the rope parted, and the unholy contrivance we had
spent so much time and labour upon drifted rapidly down-stream, and was
lost to sight.
We abandoned the idea of crossing by raft—especially as there was
then no raft to play with—and so we prospected up the river-bank for
some little distance, and eventually discovered a place that promised
a better crossing than any we had previously seen. There were two or
three small islands near the hither bank of the river, which narrowed
it to more manageable proportions, and by lunch-time we had rigged the
rope across the main channel. After lunch we all stripped, and prepared
for an afternoon’s hard work; nor were we disappointed. The stream,
breast-deep, was running like a mill-race. Its bed was composed of flat
slabs of granite polished to the smoothness of glass by the constant
water-friction. Strewn here and there were smooth water-worn boulders
with deep holes between, which made the crossing both difficult and
dangerous. By dint of half wading and half swimming, holding on to the
rope for safety, we managed with incredible labour to get all the loads
across without accident.
Getting the mules and donkeys across was a still more difficult task.
They absolutely refused to face the water, and had to be forced in.
Once in, though, they did their best to get across. The mules and four
of the donkeys succeeded after a severe struggle, but the other two
donkeys were swept away down-stream. We were unwilling to lose them,
so I swam down the river with them, trying to head them towards the
opposite bank. I succeeded at last in forcing them under the bank a
quarter of a mile or so lower down stream; but at that place it was
perfectly perpendicular, and there we stood, the two donkeys and
myself, up to our necks in water on a submerged ledge about two feet
wide, on one side of us the swiftly rushing river, which none of us
wished to face again, and on the other side a perfectly unclimbable
bank, topped with dense jungle. I thought of crocodiles, as there
were, and are, a great many in the Athi River, and I went cold all
over, and wished most heartily that I was somewhere else. I shouted
for the men, and presently heard their voices from the top of the
bank overhead; they could not reach me, however, as the jungle was so
thickly interlaced as to be impenetrable. They tried to cut a way down
to me, but gave it up as impossible; besides, they could not have got
the donkeys out that way, anyhow.
I grew more than a little anxious about the donkeys, as I was afraid
they would lose heart and let themselves drown. Donkeys are like that
sometimes when they are in difficulties. I clung to the ears of my
two, and held their heads above water by main force. I got cold and
chilled, while thoughts of crocodiles _would_ come into my head. Once a
submerged log drifted past beneath the surface, and in passing grazed
my thigh. I turned actually sick with apprehension, but it went on with
the current, and left me shivering as with ague. I ordered some of
the men to get into the river and swim down to me, and presently they
arrived. I immediately felt much better, as I reflected that my chances
of being seized were now considerably lessened.
When I had got half a dozen men down, we took the donkeys by the ears
and tails, and half towed, half pushed them up-stream against the
current, and successfully landed them, though certainly they were more
dead than alive.
I found that El Hakim and George had got the tents up, and that dinner
was being prepared by the indefatigable Ramathani. I dried myself,
and, putting on some clothing, went out in search of something edible
in the way of meat. I saw no antelope, but I made a good shot with the
·303 at an adjutant stork (_Leptoptilus marabou_). The tail feathers,
the Marabout feathers of commerce, were magnificent. This bird is a
carrion-eater, and consorts with the vultures, so it was therefore not
suitable for the pot. I cut off the large bag attached to the throat,
in order to make a tobacco-pouch of it, but the dog sneaked it and, I
believe, devoured it.
We sat down to dinner in the moonlight, all three of us thoroughly
tired out, but pleased at having conquered the formidable Athi. Now, I
had in my possession a box of particularly atrocious cigars, which I
had bought in a hurry on the day we left Nairobi as a surprise for El
Hakim and George. They were somebody’s “Morning whiffs.” As far as the
others were concerned, the surprise was complete, but they surprised me
also, though I was half expecting something out of the common.
I remember the first one I smoked that night. I remember it distinctly,
though I would much rather forget it. We had just finished dinner, and
were sitting at the table in semi-darkness. It was a beautiful evening.
The stars shone brilliantly in the unclouded firmament, and the cool
breeze softly played and whispered among the palms. The men were happy
and contented, and all was peace and harmony. Suddenly remembering
those cigars, I went into my tent and took three out of the box. I
put two of them in my pocket for the others, and proceeded to light my
own before going outside again. The first puff knocked me backwards,
but I strove gallantly to recover my scattered faculties, and, dashing
the tears from my eyes, made another attempt. It was hard work, but I
persevered, though I admit I perspired freely. After a little practice
I found that if I took a cautious draw or two, sandwiching deep long
draughts of fresh air between each, I could manage to get along. Then I
went outside and sat down at the table where El Hakim and George were
quietly and happily conversing.
Presently George said, “Funny smell, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” El Hakim replied. “I have noticed it for the last two or three
minutes. I hope those men have not set fire to the grass.”
“Have you noticed it?” said George to me.
“No, I can’t say I have,” I answered. “What is it like?”
“Great Scott! your nose must be out of order,” said George. “It reminds
me of a brickfield. I wonder what it can be?”
“Oh, you fellows must be dreaming,” said I. “I can’t smell anything
extraordinary.”
“Can’t you?” said El Hakim, turning in his chair to look at me. “Hullo!
what are you smoking?” he added.
“A cigar, of course, and a jolly good one too,” said I, puffing away
vigorously as a proof of my enjoyment, which very nearly proved my
undoing. “Have one?”
El Hakim rose slowly to his feet, and gazed sorrowfully and
reproachfully at me; then giving one or two distinctly audible sniffs,
he walked slowly to the edge of the camp and gazed silently over the
plains, followed a moment later by George, who made some almost
unintelligible remark about “he could stand a good deal, but that——”
and, shuddering visibly, he too vanished.
I threw the remains of the cigar into the river, where it probably
continued its nefarious career, doubtless doing a lot of harm. George,
with a lofty disregard of my feelings, euphoniously christened them
“stinkers,” and neither he nor El Hakim could ever be persuaded to
smoke one.
I got hardened to them in time, but I only smoked them on special
occasions or in default of anything better. I used to smoke them after
George and I had turned in for the night. It did not matter whether
George was asleep or not; after the first half-dozen puffs he would
turn over in his blankets, and, giving vent to a resigned and massive
sigh, get up, and, uttering no word the while, he would with great
ostentation and an unnecessary amount of noise, open the tent-flaps at
each end, thus letting a fierce draught through. He would then go back
to bed again, and shiver violently with the cold, and cough pathetic
little coughs, till in sheer self-defence I would discontinue smoking
and close the tent, but I would have my revenge in the morning while
we were dressing, as I would then relight the end left from overnight.
George said the smell took away his appetite for breakfast, but that
must have been mere vulgar prejudice, as I never noticed anything wrong
with his appetite.
We were off again next morning, and in two hours reached the
Thika-Thika, the next considerable river on our route. It was the
inhabitants of the country adjacent to this river about whom we were
warned in Nairobi; but, in consequence of our détour north-eastward to
Doenyo Sabuk, we struck the river much lower down than the presumably
hostile districts.
It was a rather narrow but deep stream, full of water, with a very
swift and powerful current. We could not find a crossing-place, so we
tried to bridge the stream at the cataracts which we discovered lower
down, at which place the channel narrowed to something like twenty
yards. There was a large tree standing on the bank, and we cut it down
in the hope that it would fall across the river. It was a long and
tiresome task, and somehow the tree fell the wrong way; so we thought
we would not built a bridge, after all. We then went higher up the
river, and at one place found two dead logs, which we lashed together
to form a raft. The raft completed, we called for a volunteer to take
the line across. As Asmani ben Selim was a good swimmer, we ordered
him to volunteer. He did so, and got the line across without accident.
He then hauled the raft across with another line attached, by which we
were enabled to haul it back again, and then, having satisfactorily
demonstrated the practicability of our idea, we adjourned for lunch.
After the meal we went down to the river again, and amused ourselves
all the afternoon by pulling the raft to and fro across the river with
two loads on at a time. We had all the loads safely across by five
o’clock in the afternoon, and then proceeded to get the men across by
the same means. Some of them had not sense enough to sit still, and
on three separate occasions they managed to upset the unstable craft
in midstream, and were hauled across clinging to the overturned raft,
feeling very miserable indeed, which feeling was in no way alleviated
by the gibes of their more fortunate companions who had got across
without accident.
It was dark by the time the last man had crossed, and the animals
were still on the wrong side of the river. We accordingly camped on
the bank, and sent a guard of three men back again to look after them
during the night.
At daylight next morning we proceeded to get the animals across by the
simple expedient of tying one end of the rope round their necks, when a
team of a dozen men on the opposite bank of the river soon hauled them,
kicking and struggling, across. I admit that they made the passage for
the most part under water; but still, there was no other way, and the
objections of the animals themselves, though very strenuous, did not
count for much.
That business concluded, we struck camp and continued our march. We
followed no road, and, being without a guide, we travelled by compass
in a north-easterly direction. By so doing we hoped to strike the upper
waters of the Tana River at Maranga. We saw great numbers of antelope
on the road, and there were also numerous herds of zebra and brindled
gnu (_Connochactus taurinus_). We were in want of meat, but the game
was very shy, and while stalking a herd of zebra I had the ill luck
to startle them somehow, and they went off at a gallop. I took a long
shot—200 yards—at the leader of the herd, and, as luck would have it,
brought him down.
We went on till 10 a.m., when we halted for breakfast, and did
ourselves very well on grilled zebra liver. We made a “Telekesa” march
(_i.e._ a march resumed after a short halt for refreshment), usually
necessary in localities where water is scarce and water-holes long
distances apart—so by soon after midday we were on the move again.
The country was now getting very nasty. We could see low ranges of
steep hills ahead that promised to be very inconvenient. At dusk we
ascended the outlying spurs, finding it very hard work, and soon after
we camped for the night. I shot a congoni during the afternoon, which
kept us in fresh meat for a day or two. That the estimate we had formed
of the natural difficulties to be encountered was a correct one, we
had many opportunities of verifying during the next two days. It was a
perfectly horrible piece of country. It seemed to be a collection of
rocky hills thrown down just anyhow, without the slightest regard for
order. Long coarse grass and rank vegetation did their very best to
impede our progress. We were retarded every half mile or so by steep
descents, down which we toiled slowly and painfully, only to find a
roaring rushing torrent at the bottom, that needed the most careful
negotiation. Our poor donkeys suffered very much by the constant
loading and unloading of their burdens, rendered necessary in order to
cross some particularly obnoxious ravine, while the men’s patience was
severely tried.
In the early morning it was still worse, as the dense undergrowth
was then soaked through with the heavy dew, which descended on us in
icy showers as we forced our way through, thus adding to our other
miseries. There was no game to speak of. I shot one solitary congoni at
our first camp in this uninhabited wilderness, and on the same day we
inadvertently walked on to a sleeping rhinoceros, which livened things
up a little.
El Hakim was riding at the head of the safari, and George, on the other
mule, was close behind him. I was walking a few yards behind George.
Suddenly I saw El Hakim stiffen in his seat and kick his feet free
of the stirrup-irons; a fraction of a second later he was out of the
saddle and behind a bush, while George emulated his example with a
promptitude that could only have been rendered possible by the most
urgent necessity, George being, as a rule, extremely deliberate in his
movements, as befits a heavy man. At the same instant, with a rush and
a snort, a large black rhinoceros galloped blindly at us. I took up an
unobtrusive position behind an adjacent tree, with as little delay as
possible consistent with my dignity, and the rhinoceros rushed past and
disappeared. It appeared annoyed at being disturbed.
On the afternoon of the third day after leaving the Thika-Thika we got
into some very dense scrub, and fairly lost ourselves. The bush was
absolutely impenetrable, except for the low tunnels made by wandering
hippopotamus, which indicated the presence of water not far off. These
tunnels gave the scrub the appearance of a gigantic rabbit-warren,
in which we had to walk bent double in order to make any headway at
all. It was exceedingly hot and dusty, and we plunged about in the
bewildering maze of tunnels till we were tired out, while seemingly
no nearer to the opposite side. Presently the tunnel in which we were
burrowing at the moment abruptly dipped downwards, and a few yards
further on we emerged unexpectedly on the edge of a broad and noble
river, which flowed swiftly and serenely past our delighted eyes.
We had no doubt that this was the Tana which we had not expected to
reach for another day at least; a surmise which proved to be correct.
It is called here the Sagana, or more rarely the Kilaluma (_i.e_.
firewater). It is a very beautiful river, with very high perpendicular
banks clothed in the most lovely verdure. Tall water-palms (_Raffia_
sp.?) reared their stately heads far above the surrounding luxuriant
vegetation; while tropical trees of many species formed a playground
for troops of monkeys. Birds of brilliant plumage darted hither and
thither like diminutive rainbows, and completed as charming a picture
of tropical beauty as could be found in Africa.
The river itself was about eighty yards broad, and very deep, with a
four-miles-an-hour current. We had struck it at a point about two days’
march above the Carl Alexander and Sweinfurth Falls. It is full of
hippopotamus. George shot at one in the water, but it sank immediately
and disappeared from view.
Our men skirmished round, and discovered a small clearing, in which we
camped. Some of the Wakamba porters informed us that farther up the
river there was a bridge, and beyond that the “shambas” (plantations)
of the A’kikuyu. We were rather sceptical about the bridge, as they
used the word “dirage,” which is the Swahili word used by the Wakamba
either for a bridge, a boat or raft, or a ford, though the Swahilis
themselves have separate and distinct words for each.
We ascertained one fact. A large river, called the Maragua, joined the
Sagana two hours’ march up-stream, and we should have a much better
chance of a successful crossing if we crossed before the Maragua
joined forces with the already swollen Sagana, though such a course
necessitated crossing two rivers instead of one.
Early next day we set off up-stream in a westerly direction. Travelling
was like an excursion over the roofs of a row of houses. The jungle
was very dense everywhere, and we were also in constant danger from
the numerous hippopotamus-traps which had been set by the natives,
who sometimes hunt this side of the river. These traps consisted of a
heavy log of wood, probably thorn, about 18 inches long and 9 inches
in diameter, with an iron blade 8 inches long firmly set in one end.
This was suspended blade downwards over the centre of the path, and
connected with a cord stretched across the path an inch or so above the
ground. When the unsuspecting hippopotamus passed that way it kicked
the cord, thereby releasing a catch, and down dropped the heavy log,
armed with its keen blade, into the unfortunate victim’s back, usually
severing the spine. We had to keep a very sharp look-out for these
traps, sending men ahead of the safari to search for them and release
the suspended log before we passed.
We lost sight of the Sagana altogether in an hour or so, as here
it makes a big curve to the north before flowing down again to the
Mumoni hills. We reached the Maragua in due course, and found that our
men’s information was correct, and that there was a genuine bridge. I
discovered later that it was built by Gibbons on his ill-fated journey
to M’bu. It was very well built, some small islands in the channel
being utilized as piers, upon which were laid the straight stems of the
water-palm which was growing at hand in great profusion, and answered
the purpose excellently. It was, however, partly destroyed by fire,
and required great care in crossing. We could not trust the animals
on it, so we had to fall back on our rope, and haul them across a
little higher up the river, where the water was deeper and the current
consequently less violent.
Just below the bridge were a series of magnificent cascades, which
filled the air for a long distance round with their stupendous roar.
As we intended making another march that day, we went on again after a
short halt. The men had had no food for three days, except the remains
of the insignificant quantity of meat I shot a few days before. We
were therefore anxious to reach the cultivated country in order to buy
fresh supplies for them.
After a weary walk from eleven in the morning to four in the afternoon,
we were relieved to find ourselves among the shambas of the natives. We
camped beside a small stream close to a village, and immediately opened
a market, and when the natives appeared we bought a small supply of
maize and sweet potatoes, which were at once served out to our hungry
men.