MAKING READY
"Mombasa!"
Before them lay the picturesque harbor, filled with Arab dhows from
Zanzibar and the Somali ports, tramp steamers, coasters, and a trim
French corvette up from Madagascar. Up above the waters rose the old
Arab city, now a trim English-ruled town of immense trade, while behind
all shimmered the vivid green of trees.
"Dandy sight, isn't it!" and the boys turned to find Schoverling at
their side, with the doctor. "That old town used to have a sultan, as
Zanzibar has, and a gay pirate life was led along the east coast in the
days of Captain Kidd. Portugal captured the place, but the Arabs drove
her out again. Now England is making Mombasa into a mighty big trading
center, and as the Uganda Railway taps the Cape-to-Cairo, which is about
done, things are going to boom."
Charlie and Jack had seen considerable of the cosmopolitan aspect of
Port Said, although they had had no time to visit Alexandria, but here
was something entirely new to them. As they passed through the streets
to the Mombasa Club they were surrounded by English officers in neat
uniforms, by Somali and other native troops, by Arabs in fez and
burnous, and above all by Indians. Hindus and Mohammedans alike moved
through the streets, some wearing the fez, others the turban; there were
Sikhs and Gurkhas, lordly Brahmins who disdained to touch the Europeans
with their garments, and those of the lower castes who were equally
particular.
"I was reading the other day," said Charlie, "that the Indians were
swarming over here by the shipload, and this certainly looks like it!"
Louis Schoverling brushed aside the would-be native guides, and led the
party direct to the Mombasa Club, where they were soon comfortably
ensconced. Barely had they arrived when a bronzed, trim Englishman
sought out the explorer.
"Mr. Schoverling?" he inquired. "I am Inspector Harrington. The governor
heard that you and Doctor von Hofe came in on the _Mombasa_, and he
detailed me to look after you. He was anxious to see you in person, as
our embassador at Washington had written him, but he was called up
country yesterday."
"That is very good of you," returned the explorer, introducing his
party. "I was assured at Washington that you would have our permits for
us."
"They are ready at the Government House," said the inspector. "We are
anxious to extend every courtesy to you and Doctor von Hofe, of course.
You won't do any trading?"
"Frankly, I don't expect to. We are here to procure specimens and
nothing else. But if I could pick up any ivory on my own hook, I suppose
it would be all right?"
"With you, yes," smiled Harrington. "Men like you and Selous and
Cuninghame can be accepted at the standard of gentlemen. Unfortunately,
there are some who cannot. Now, how about porters and so on?"
"We'll take about twenty-five porters," answered the explorer
carelessly. At this the Englishman sat up.
"My word! Are you spoofin' me or what? Twenty-five porters! Why,
Roosevelt had two hundred, to say nothing of askaris, saises, tent
boys, and the rest!"
Smiling, Schoverling and von Hofe explained their plan of action.
Harrington's amazement grew into settled doubt that such a march was
possible, for although a remarkably fine young officer, he was decidedly
conservative.
"We are all used to doing things for ourselves," concluded the explorer.
"The doctor is less used to the trail, but he can wash his own dishes
and things right enough, and we'll do the shooting."
"Well, it's your expedition," returned Harrington, "and not mine. But
how do you expect to send back the skins with such a small safari?"
"Safari" was the term used for caravan, and was usually applied to the
entire expedition, who instead of being on the march, were said to be
"on safari."
"There is where I want your help," said Schoverling. "We will camp at
the nearest possible point to Mt. Kenia and let the doctor make what
sketches he desires. There we will kill the cows and calves and send
back their skins. For this purpose we can pick up porters on the spot,
but I must have three or four reliable men to bring them back. Also, I
want a good cook who can act as a sort of major-domo over the men at
each place."
Harrington pulled out his notebook and jotted down the requirements
methodically. Then he rose and shook hands all around.
"As a member of the Club," he told the explorer, "you need no cicerone.
You will take the morning train? Well, I will meet you here at eight
o'clock with your men. Good-bye!"
For the remainder of the day they rested. Schoverling departed to see
that their cases were placed aboard the train safely, while the boys
rambled around town with the doctor. The latter had been in Mombasa
before, but to-day his head was full of the expedition.
Instead of the great quantity of salt usually taken along to cure hides,
he was using a strong chemical powder of his own invention, which could
be dissolved in water, and thus be greatly diffused. His fifteen cases
comprised not only a sufficient supply of this, but also the medicines
which were likely to be necessary.
It had been found that a certain supply of provisions would have to be
taken along, but Schoverling was well satisfied when it was found that
evening that twenty-five porters would be sufficient for all. Their
tents were small sleeping-tents, and two porters could carry the lot
with ease.
That evening they had a long talk with Piet Andrus, a Boer merchant of
the city. He very strongly advised them to procure ox-wagons at Nakuro
and to proceed north with them.
"I do not know the country up north of the Guasa Nyero," he said, "but I
can see no reason why oxen could not be used. It would save porter hire
and be more reliable. If you lost them, for any reason, you could always
hire porters. I am going up on the same train with you, and if you like,
would be glad to pick out seasoned beasts."
After a brief discussion it was decided to take both porters and wagons
as far as the first camp, and then send back the porters with the skins
taken there.
In the morning Harrington arrived, followed by a group of men. These, it
proved, were all Indians who had been in the British army and in Africa
for years. They salaamed at the verandah steps.
"First your cook and general manager," smiled the inspector. "Gholab
Singh!"
A strapping Gurkha stepped out and saluted. Charlie liked his manner at
once.
"Gholab Singh," said Schoverling promptly, "are you willing to serve me
faithfully and follow wherever I lead?"
"I am, sahib," returned the other in a quiet, confident voice.
"Then you will cook for us, and will be in charge of the safari under my
orders. The pay shall be as the inspector sahib has agreed with you. Is
it well?"
"It is well, sahib."
Harrington then brought up the gun-bearers--two Gurkhas and a stalwart
Sikh. The last, Guru, the General chose for himself as personal
attendant. To Charlie was alloted Amir Ali, and to Jack, Akram Das. All
three were faithful and highly recommended by the inspector. The four
remaining, one an Arab half-caste, two Somali, and one a Gurkha, were to
take charge of the safari under Gholab Singh, and to return with the
skins as obtained.
At the railroad station Gholab Singh was given money for the tickets and
food en route, and the men vanished into one of the tiny carriages.
Special arrangements had been made in honor of Schoverling and the
doctor, however, and as the weather was fine they were to travel on a
wide seat fastened across the cow-catcher, which held four with comfort.
The boys took their places with some misgivings, but found the seat
comfortable enough.
Inspector Harrington now waved them farewell, with assurances that all
had been arranged for their comfort on the trip, which would take two
days. Andrus, they knew, was on board, and had that morning wired ahead
to his traders to prepare teams and wagons. In fact, the general
courtesy with which they met both surprised and delighted the two boys.
"They seem to do things just to please you," exclaimed Jack happily, as
he gave a last wave to Harrington and the train started. "Are they as
hospitable and obliging as this all the time, General?"
[Illustration: Everything else was forgotten in the novel method of
riding.]
"Those we meet are, Jack. But you must remember that we are a special
party, and that most of these men, who are big men themselves, consider
it an honor to assist the doctor, here. That chap Harrington, for
instance, just got in from two years up-country. He had charge of some
three hundred square miles of absolutely savage country, and with a
dozen Somalis kept order and law enforced. Andrus is another real man,
and real men are above smallness."
As the train pulled out everything else was forgotten in the novel
method of riding. The boys already knew that on each side of the
railroad was a great game reserve, but on the first day's trip they saw
nothing save one or two antelope and jackals. Birds were plentiful,
however, and the rolling country was constantly presenting a change of
scene before them.
The neat railroad stations were always surrounded with curious crowds of
natives, some half dressed. As a rule the station agents and officials
were Indians in the government service. Both Charlie and Jack kept their
pocket cameras busy.
Toward evening they retired into their special carriage and wrote
their last letters home, which would be mailed at Nakuro. But with the
morning they were in the game country, and took advantage of the first
stop to resume their seats in front. Now everything was changed. At one
moment they would pass a group of giraffe, running in their ungainly
fashion to one side; hartebeests, impalla and other varieties of
antelope were everywhere, gazing in fearless fashion at the train. Herds
of zebra came into sight, while through the trees scampered monkeys in
endless variety.
"They know they're safe, all right," chuckled Charlie, as a herd of
beautiful little gazelles stopped a dozen yards away to stare in mild
wonder. "Funny how animals get to know where they're protected."
"It's the same in the Yellowstone," said von Hofe. "Within the limits
they are almost tame, but across the line--pouf! and they are gone."
The wonderful journey, like no other in the world, was ended at last,
however, and they puffed past Lake Nakuro to the village station. Here
their trip was ended, their baggage was rolled off, and they were taken
in charge by a young subaltern, Lieutenant Smithers, together with the
Boer merchant, Piet Andrus. The latter offered them the hospitality of
his trading store, which they gratefully accepted.
"Now to business," said the General that night after dinner.
"Lieutenant, what would be your advice as to porters? I'd like to get
off in the morning, if possible."
"The usual way," laughed Smithers, "is to take Swahilis, but you seem to
be an unusual party. Since you are going to take wagons from here, I
would suggest that you load everything into the wagons and trek north to
Jan Botha's ranch. There you can pick up a score or two of Masai. They
are an offshoot of the old Zulu stock--brave as lions, faithful enough,
and able to provide for themselves. This safari business is largely
bally rot, to my mind."
"Bully for you!" cried Charlie in delight, while the others laughed
heartily.
"According to law," said Smithers, "you'll have to provide tents for the
porters. But the Masai would laugh at such things, and this will save
you a good deal of carriage. How about horses?"
"They are in the compound," said Miers, the local agent of Andrus' firm.
"I have two good wagons and a dozen 'salted' oxen, specially selected.
This gives you six to a wagon, and even if you lose four of the beasts,
the other eight will do the work. Better to have too many than too few."
Von Hofe nodded, thoroughly satisfied. By 'salted,' the trader meant
that the animals had been through the sickness caused by the bite of the
tsetse fly, and were henceforth immune to the worst scourge of Africa.
That night there was a gathering of the Boers, English settlers, and
officers at the station, all of whom were keenly interested in the novel
excursion. It was the general opinion that the expedition would succeed,
although the nature of the country beyond the mountains was an open
question.
"Well," commented Charlie that night, as he made ready to share his bunk
with Jack, "we're off! Looks like we'd have a bully time, eh?"
"It sure does, if we strike a rogue," chuckled Jack. "I'm crazy to get
out those guns, Chuck. Funny the doctor doesn't care for shooting."
"He's got some tough work ahead of him, all right. Did you see those
paints an' things he brought along? Right on the job! Well, see you in
the morning. Good night."