WE CROSS THE EAST AFRICAN GHAUTS.

On the 7th August, 1857, the Expedition left Zungomero. We were martyred

by miasma; my companion and I were so feeble, that we could scarcely sit

our asses, and weakness had almost deprived us of the sense of hearing.

It was a day of severe toil. We loaded with difficulty, for the slaves

and porters did not assemble till past 8 A.M., and instead of applying

for their loads to Said bin Salim, every man ran off with the lightest

burden or the easiest ass.

[Illustration: THE EAST AFRICAN GHAUTS.]

From Central Zungomero to the nearest ascent of the Usagara Mountains is

a march of five hours. The route, emerging from the cultivated

districts, leaves to the right the Wigo Hills, so called, probably, from

the fishing weirs in the stagnant waters below, and in the Mgeta River,

which flows through the plain. On the left, and distant four or five

miles, is a straggling line of low cones: at the foot of one, somewhat

larger than its neighbours, rises the thermal spring known to the people

as the Maji ya W’heta, the Geyser, jetting-water, or _fontaine qui

bouille_. Its position is a gentle slope between the hill-base and a

dwarf Savannah which is surrounded by high walls of jungly forest, and

the water-shed is from south to north. The hot water boils and bubbles

out of a white sand, here and there stained and encrusted with oxide of

iron. Upon the surface lie caked and scaly sheets of calcareous tufa,

expressed by the spring, and around it are erratic boulders blackened

probably by the thermal fumes. The earth is dark, sometimes sandy, and

sprinkled over with fragments of quartzite and sandstone; in other

places a screen of brab-tree backs a bold expanse of ground,

treacherous, boggy, and unstable as water. The area is about 200 feet in

diameter, and the centre of ebullition is unapproachable, owing to the

heat and the instability of the soil. According to the guides, it is

subject to occasional eruptions, when the water bursts out with

violence, and fragments of lime are flung high in the air. Animals are

said to refuse it, and tales are told of wild beasts having been bogged

in the seething mire.

With the Mgeta thrown on the left hand, we passed by a path almost

invisible, through dense grass and trees, and presently we entered the

luxuriant cultivation surrounding the westernmost villages of K’hutu. As

the land beyond this point, for three long marches, lies barren, the

slaves and porters had comfortably housed themselves. The prospect of

another night in the plains made me desperate; I dislodged them, and

persuaded them to advance once more. The settlements were of the most

miserable description; many were composed of a few sticks lashed

together at the top, and loosely covered with a few armfuls of

holcus-cane. Here we sighted the cocoa-tree for the last time. The rats

were busy in the fields, and the plundered peasants were digging them

out for food. At almost every corner of the deeply-pitted path stood a

mtego, or trap for small birds, a cage of rush or split bamboo planted

in the ground near some corn, where a boy lies waiting till the prey

nibbles at the bait, and then creeping up, bars with his hand the little

doorway left in one of the sides. Beyond the villages the path forded

six times the sandy bed of the Mgeta, whose steep and slippery banks

supported dense screens of shrub and grass. Beyond the sixth passage,

the road falls into the gravelly river-shoals, with the stream flowing

in the other half of the course, under well-wooded masses of primitive

hill. After again thrice fording the cold and muddy water, which even in

the dry season is here ankle, there foot-deep, the road passed some

clearings where porcupines and the African red squirrel, a sturdy little

animal, with a long thick fur of dark brown, shot with green on the

back, and a bright red waistcoat, muzzle, and points, were observed.

About noon we diverged a few yards from the Mgeta, and ascended the

incline of the first gradient in Usagara, rising about 300 feet from the

plain below. This, the frontier of the second region, or ghauts, and the

debris encumbering the lowest escarpment, is called Mzizi Mdogo, or the

“Little Tamarind,” to distinguish it from the “Great Tamarind” station

which lies beyond. There was no vestige of building upon the spot--no

sight nor sound of man--the blood-feud and the infernal slave-trade had

made a howling desert of the land. We found, however, a tattered kraal

erected by the last passing caravan, and, spent with fatigue, we threw

ourselves on the short grass to rest. The porters and the asses did not

appear till the evening, when it became apparent that two of the latter

had been lost by their drivers, Hayja and Khamisi, sons of Ramji, who

preferred sitting in the shade, and chatting with passing caravans, to

the sore task of doing their duty. The animals were recovered on the

morrow, by sundry parties sent in search. During the fordings of the

Mgeta, however, they had not been unpacked; our salt and sugar,

therefore, had melted away; soap, cigars, mustard, and arsenical paste,

were in pulp; the tea was spoiled, the compressed vegetables presently

became musty, and the gunpowder in a fire-proof copper magazine was

caked like stale bread.

There was a wondrous change of climate at Mzizi Mdogo; strength and

health returned as if by magic; even the Goanese shook off the obstinate

bilious remittents of Zungomero. Truly delicious was the escape from the

nebulous skies, the fog-driving gusts, the pelting rain, the clammy

mists veiling a gross growth of fetor, the damp raw cold, rising as it

were from the earth, and the alternations of fiery and oppressive heat;

in fact, from the cruel climate of the river-valley, to the pure sweet

mountain-air, alternately soft and balmy, cool and reviving, and to the

aspect of clear blue skies, which lent their tints to highland ridges

well wooded with various greens. Dull mangrove, dismal jungle, and

monotonous grass, were supplanted by tall solitary trees, amongst which

the lofty tamarind rose conspicuously graceful, and a card-table-like

swamp, cut by a network of streams, nullahs, and stagnant pools, gave

way to dry healthy slopes, with short steep pitches, and gently shelving

hills. The beams of the large sun of the equator--and nowhere have I

seen the rulers of night and day so large--danced gaily upon blocks and

pebbles of red, yellow, and dazzling snowy quartz, and the bright

sea-breeze waved the summits of the trees, from which depended graceful

llianas, and wood-apples large as melons, whilst creepers, like vine

tendrils, rising from large bulbs of brown-grey wood, clung closely to

their stalwart trunks. Monkeys played at hide-and-seek, chattering

behind the bolls, as the iguana, with its painted scale-armour, issued

forth to bask upon the sunny bank; white-breasted ravens cawed when

disturbed from their perching-places; doves cooed on the well-clothed

boughs, and hawks soared high in the transparent sky. The field-cricket

chirped like the Italian cigala in the shady bush, and everywhere, from

air, from earth, from the hill slopes above, and from the marshes below,

the hum, the buzz, and the loud continuous voice of insect life, through

the length of the day, spoke out its natural joy. Our gipsy encampment

lay

“By shallow rivers, to whose falls

Melodious birds sing madrigals.”

By night, the soothing murmurs of the stream at the hill’s base rose

mingled with the faint rustling of the breeze, which at times broken by

the scream of the night-heron, the bellow of the bull-frog in his swampy

home, the cynhyæna’s whimper, and the fox’s whining bark, sounded

through the silence most musical, most melancholy. Instead of the cold

night rain, and the soughing of the blast, the view disclosed a peaceful

scene, the moonbeams lying like sheets of snow upon the ruddy highlands,

and the stars hanging like lamps of gold from the dome of infinite blue.

I never wearied with contemplating the scene, for, contrasting with the

splendours around me, still stretched in sight the Slough of Despond,

unhappy Zungomero, lead-coloured above, mud-coloured below, wind-swept,

fog-veiled, and deluged by clouds that dared not approach these

Delectable Mountains.

During a day’s halt at this sanitarium fresh diversions agitated the

party. The Baloch, weary of worrying one another, began to try their

’prentice hands upon the sons of Ramji, and these fortified by the

sturdy attitude of Muinyi Kidogo, manfully resolved to hold their own.

The asses fought throughout the livelong night, and, contrary to the

custom of their genus, strayed from one another by day. And as,

“When sorrows come, they come not single spies,

But in battalions,”

Said bin Salim, who hated and was hated by the Baloch, on account

of their divided interests, began to hate and to be hated by the sons of

Ramji. His four children, the most ignoble of their ignoble race, were

to him as the apples of his eyes. He had entered their names as public

porters, yet, with characteristic egotism and self-tenderness, he was

resolved that they should work for none but their master, and that even

in this their labour should as much as possible fall upon the shoulders

of others. His tent was always the first pitched and his fire the first

built; his slaves were rewarded with such luxuries as ghee, honey, and

turmeric, when no one in camp, ourselves included, could procure them.

When all wanted clothes he clad his children out of the outfit as if it

had been his own, and, till strong remonstrances were made, large

necklaces of beads decked their sooty necks. On the return-march he

preferred to pay hire for three porters rather than to allow the fat

lazy knaves to carry a bed or a few gourds. They became of course

insolent and unmanageable--more than once they gave trouble by pointing

their muskets at the Baloch and the porters, and they would draw their

knives and stab at a man who refused to give up his firewood or his

hearth-stones, without incurring a word of blame from their master.

Encouraged by impunity they robbed us impudently; curry-stuff was soon

exhausted, the salt-bottles showed great gaps, and cigar-ends were

occasionally seen upon the road-side. The Goanese accused the slaves,

and the slaves the Goanese; probably both parties for once spoke the

truth.

Said bin Salim’s silly favouritism naturally aroused the haughty

Kidogo’s bile; the sons of Ramji, consequently, worked less than before.

The two worthies, Arab and African, never, however, quarrelled, no harsh

word passed between them; with smiles upon their faces, and a bitter

hate at heart, they confined themselves to all manner of backbiting and

talebearing. Said bin Salim sternly declared to me that he would never

rest satisfied until Kidogo’s sword was broken and his back was

scarified at the flagstaff of Zanzibar; but I guessed that this

“wrathful mouse and most magnanimous dove” would, long before his

journey’s end, have forgotten all his vengeance. Kidogo asserted that

the Muarabu or Arab was a green-horn, and frequently suggested the

propriety of “planting” him. At last this continual harping upon the

same chord became so offensive, that B’ana Saidi was forbidden to

pronounce the name of Muinyi Kidogo, and Muinyi Kidogo was ordered never

to utter the words B’ana Saidi before the exasperated leader of the

Expedition, who could not, like these squabblers, complain, resent,

forget and forgive, in the short space of a single hour.

We left Mzizi Mdogo on the 9th August, much cheered by the well-omened

appearance of a bird with red bill, white breast, and long

tail-feathers. The path ran over a succession of short steep hills with

a rufous-brown soil, dotted with blocks and stones, thinly veiled with

grass, and already displaying signs of aridity in the growth of aloetic

and thorny plants, the Cactus and the larger Asclepias, the Euphorbia or

Spurge-wort, and the stunted Mimosa. The Calabash, however, still rose a

stately tree, and there was a sprinkling of the fine Tamarinds which

have lent their name to the district. The Tamarind, called by the Arabs

of Zanzibar “Subar,” extends from the coast to the Lake Regions: with

its lofty stem, its feathery leaflets, and its branches spreading dark

cool shade, it is a beautiful feature in African landscape. The

acidulated fruit is doubtless a palliative and a corrective to bilious

affections. The people of the country merely peel and press it into bark

baskets, consequently it soon becomes viscid, and is spoiled by mildew;

they ignore the art of extracting from it an intoxicating liquor. The

Arabs, who use it extensively in cooking, steam, sun-dry, and knead it,

with a little salt and oil to prevent the effects of damp, into balls:

thus prepared and preserved from the air, it will keep for years.

On the way we were saddened by the sight of the clean-picked skeletons,

and here and there the swollen corpses, of porters who had perished in

this place of starvation. A single large body which had lost fifty of

its number by small-pox, had passed us but yesterday on the road, and

the sight of their deceased comrades recalled to our minds terrible

spectacles; men staggering on blinded by disease, and mothers carrying

on their backs infants as loathsome objects as themselves. The wretches

would not leave the path, every step in their state of failing strength

was precious; he who once fell would never rise again; no village would

admit death into its precincts, no relation nor friend would return for

them, and they would lie till their agony was ended by the raven and

vulture, the Fisi and the fox. Near every Khambi or Kraal I remarked

detached tents which, according to the guides, were set apart for those

seized with the fell disease. Under these circumstances, as might be

expected, several of our party caught the infection; they lagged behind

and probably threw themselves into some jungle, for the path when

revisited showed no signs of them.

We spent 4 hrs. 30′ in weary marching, occasionally halting to reload

the asses that threw their packs. Near the Mgeta River, which was again

forded six times, the vegetation became tall and thick, grasses

obstructed the path, and in the dense jungle on the banks of the stream,

the Cowhage (_Dolichos pruriens_,) and stiff reeds known as the “wild

sugar-cane,” annoyed the half-naked porters. Thus bounded and approached

by muddy and slippery, or by steep and stony inclines, the stream shrank

to a mountain torrent, in places hardly fifty feet broad; the flow was

swift, the waters were dyed by the soil a ruddy brown, and the bed was

sandy and sometimes rocky with boulders of primitive formation, streaked

with lines of snow-white quartz. Near the end of the marsh we ascended a

short steep staircase of rock and root, with a dwarf precipice

overhanging the river on the right, which was dangerous for the laden

beasts as they crawled like beetles up the path. At 3 P.M. we arrived at

a kraal called Cha K’henge--of the iguana, from the number of these

animals found near the stream. It was a delightful spot, equal to Mzizi

Mdogo in purity of air, and commanding a fair prospect of the now

distant Dut’humi Highlands.

The next day was a forced halt at Cha K’henge. Of two asses that had

been left behind one was recovered, the other was abandoned to its fate.

The animals purchased at Zanzibar were falling off visibly in condition.

Accustomed to a kind of grass which nowhere grows upon these sunburnt

hills, they had regular feeds of holcus, but that, as Said bin Salim

expressed himself, was only coffee to them. The Wanyamwezi asses,

however, managed to pick a sustenance from the rushes and from the

half-burned stubbles, when fortunate enough to find any. Sickness again

declared itself. Shahdad the Baloch bellowed like a bull with fever

pains, Gaetano complained that he was suffering tortures generally, two

of the Wanyamwezi were incapacitated by the symptoms preliminary to

small-pox from carrying their packs, and a third was prostrated by ague.

We started, however, on the next day for a long march which concluded,

the passage of the “Tamarind Hills.” Crossing a country broken by dry

nullahs, or rather ditches, we traversed a seam of forest with a deep

woody ravine on the right, and twice unpacked and reloaded the asses,

who lay down instead of breasting the difficulties: a muddy swamp full

of water-courses, and the high earth-banks of the Rufuta a Fiumara, here

dry during the hot season. Thence, winding along a hill-flank, to avoid

a bend in the bed, the path plunged into the sole of the Rufuta. This

main-drain of the lower gradients carries off, according to the guides,

the waters of the high ground around it into the Mgeta. The bed, which

varies from three to sixteen feet in breadth, serpentines abruptly

through the hills: its surface is either deep sand or clay, sopped with

water, which near the head becomes a thin fillet, ankle-deep, now sweet,

then salt: the mud is tinged in places with a solution of iron, showing,

when stagnant, prismatic and iridescent tints. Where narrowest, the tall

grasses of the banks meet across the gut, which, after a few yards of

short, sharp winding, opens out again. The walls are in some parts

earth, in others blocks of gray syenite, which here and there encumber

the bed: on the right, near the end of the stage, the hills above seem

to overhang the Fuimara in almost perpendicular masses of sandstone,

from whose chinks spring the gnarled roots of tall trees corded with

creepers, overgrown with parasites; and hung with fruits like footballs,

dangling from twines sometimes thirty feet long. The lower banks, where

not choked with rush, are overgrown with the brightest verdure, and with

the feathery bamboo rising and falling before the wind. The corpses of

porters were even more numerous than on the yester: our Muslems passed

them with averted faces and with the low “la haul!” of disgust, and a

decrepid old Mnyamwezi porter gazed at them and wept for himself. About

2 P.M., turning abruptly from the bed, we crawled up a short stony steep

strewed with our asses and their loads; and reaching the summit of a

dwarf cone near the foot of the “Goma Pass,” we found the usual outlying

huts for porters dying of small-pox, and an old kraal, which we made

comfortable for the night. In the extensive prospect around, the little

beehive villages of the Wakaguru and the Wakwivi, sub-tribes of the

Wasagara, peeped from afar out of the forest nooks on the distant

hill-folds. The people are rich in flocks and grain, but a sad

experience has taught them to shun intercourse with all strangers, Arabs

and Wasawahili, Wamrima and Wanyamwezi. In happier days the road was

lined with large villages, of which now not a trace remains.

A Boiling Point Thermometer by Cox, the gift of Lieut.-Colonel Hamerton,

and left with him by Captain, now Admiral Smyth, F. R. G. S., who had

used it in measuring the Andes, had been accidentally broken by my

companion at Cha K’henge. Arrived at Rufuta, I found that a second B. P.

by Newman, and a Bath-Thermometer by the same maker, had been torn so

violently from their box that even the well-soldered handles were

wrenched off. But a few days afterwards our third B. P. was rendered

useless by the carelessness of Gaetano. Thus, of the only three really

accurate hypsometrical instruments which we possessed,--the Barometer

had come to grief, and no aneroid had been sent from Bombay--not one was

spared to reach the Lake. We saved, however, two Bath-Thermometers

marked Newman, and Johnson and Co., Bombay, which did good service, and

one of which was afterwards corrected by being boiled at sea-level. I

may here observe that on such journeys, where triangulation is

impossible, and where the delicate aneroid and the Mountain Barometer

can scarcely be carried without accident, the thermometer is at present

the traveller’s stand-by. It abounds, however, in elements of error. The

elasticity of the glass, especially in a new instrument, causes the

mercury to subside below the graduated scale. The difference of level in

a covered “shaving-pot” and in an open pan exposed to the wind, will

sometimes amount to 1° F. = 500 feet: they therefore are in error who

declare that any vessel suffices for the purpose of boiling. Finally, in

all but the best instruments the air is not thoroughly expelled from the

tube: indeed some writers, Dr. Buist, for instance, actually advise the

error.

Another ass was left at Rufuta unable to stand, and anxiously eyeing its

stomach, whereby the Baloch conjectured that it was dying of a poisonous

grass. Having to ascend on the 12th August the Goma Pass of the Rufuta,

or the Eastern Range, I had arranged with Kidogo and the Kirangozi, or

guide, that the porters should proceed with their packs, and after

topping the hill, should return, for a consideration, to assist the

asses. None, however, reappearing, when the sun had risen a spear’s

length we set out, hugging the hill-flanks, with deep ravines yawning on

the right. Presently after passing through a clear forest of tall

scattered trees, between whose trunks were visible on both sides in

perspective, far below, long rolling tracts of well-wooded land broken

by ravines and cut by water-courses, we arrived at the foot of a steep

hill. The ascent was a kind of ramp, composed of earth-steps, clods

bound by strong tenacious roots, and thickly strewn with blocks of

schiste, micacious grit, and a sandstone showing the presence of iron.

The summit of this “kloof” was ascertained to rise 2,235 feet above

sea-level. It led to an easy descent along the flank of a hill

commanding on the left hand, below a precipitous foreground, a fine

bird’s-eye view of scattered cone and wavy ridge rising and falling in a

long roll, and on a scale decreasing till they settled into a line of

hazy-blue horizon, which had all the effect of a circumambient ocean. We

reached the remains of a kraal on the summit of a dwarf hill called

Mfu’uni, from the abundance of the Mfu’u tree, which bears an edible

apple externally like the smallest “crab,” but containing a stone of

inordinate proportions: below the encamping ground the Pagazi found a

runnel of pure water, which derived its name from the station. In former

times Mfu’uni was a populous settlement; the kidnapping parties from the

coast, and especially the filibusters of Whinde, have restored it to the

fox and the cynhyæna, its “old inhabitants.” I spent a sleepless night

in watching each star as it sank and set in its turn, piercing with a

last twinkle the thin silhouette of tall trees that fringed the hilly

rim of the horizon, and in admiring the hardness of the bull-headed

Mabruki, as he lay half-roasted by the fire and half-frozen by the cold

southern gale.

Rations had been issued at K’hutu to all hands for three days, the time

in which they expected to make the principal provisioning-place,

“Muhama.” They had consumed, as usual, their stores with the utmost

possible quickness; it was our fifth day, and Muhama was still a long

march distant. On the 13th August, therefore, in that hot haste which

promises cold speed, we loaded at dawn, and ascended the last step of

the pass by an easy path. The summit was thickly wooded; the hills were

crowned with trees; the ravines were a mass of tangled verdure; and from

the Dub (_Cynodon dactylon_, a nutritive and favourite food for cattle

in India) and other grasses arose a sickening odour of decay. A Scotch

mist, thick and raw, hung over the hill-tops, and about 10 P.M. a fiery

outburst of sunshine told severely upon hungry and fever-stricken men.

From the level table-summit of the range the route descended rapidly at

first, but presently stretching out into gentle slopes, totally unlike

the abrupt eastern or seaward face of the mountains: I counted twelve

distinct rises and fifteen falls, separated by tree-clad lines of

half-dried nullahs, which were choked with ill-savoured weeds. We halted

every quarter of an hour to raise and reload the asses; when on the

ground, they were invariably abandoned by the donkey-men. My companion’s

bedding was found near the path, where it had been left by its porter, a

slave given at Zungomero to Muinyi Wazira by his drunken brother. The

fellow had been sworn by his mganga, or medicine-man, not to desert, and

he had respected his oath for the long length of a week. A dispute with

another man, however, had irritated him: he quietly threw his burden,

and ran down the nearest steep, probably to fall into the hands of the

Wakwivi. As the rain-catching peaks were left behind, the slopes of dry

soil began to show sunburnt herbage and tufty grass. Signs of lions

appeared numerous, and the cactaceous and aloetic plants that live on

arid soil again met the eye. About noon we forded the little Zonhwe

River, a stream of sweet water here flowing westward, in a bed of mire

and grass, under high banks bearing a dense bush. Two hours afterwards I

suddenly came upon the advance-guard, halted, and the asses unloaded, in

a dry water-course, called in the map, from our misadventure, “Overshot

Nullah.” A caravan of Wanyamwezi had misdirected them, Muinyi Wazira had

in vain warned them of their error, he was overruled by Kidogo, and the

Baloch had insisted upon camping at the first place where they expected

to find a spring. Like all soft men, they were most impatient of thirst,

and nothing caused so much grumbling and discontent as the cry of “Maji

mb’hali!” (water is far!) That night, therefore, after a long march of

fifteen miles, they again slept supperless.

On the 14th of August we loaded early, and through spitting rains from

the south-east hills we marched back for two hours from the Overshot

Nullah to Zonhwe, the small and newly-built settlement which we had

missed on the preceding day. Several of the porters had disappeared

during the night. Men were sent in all directions for provisions, which

came in, however, slowly and scantily; and the noise made by the

slaves--they were pulling down Said bin Salim’s hut, which had

accidentally caught fire--frightened away the country-people. We were,

therefore, detained in this unwholesome spot for two days.

Zonhwe was the turning-point of the Expedition’s difficulties. Another

ass had died, reducing the number to twenty-three, and the Baloch, at

first contented with two, doubled their requirements, and on the 14th

August took a fifth, besides placing all their powder upon our

hard-worked animals. I therefore proposed to the Jemadar that the cloth,

the beads, and the other similar luggage of his men, should be packed,

sealed up, and inserted into the porters’ loads, of which several had

shrunk to half-weight. He probably thought the suggestion a ruse on my

part to discover the means by which their property had almost trebled

its quantity; his men, moreover, had become thoroughly weary of a

journey where provisions were not always obtainable, and they had

persuaded themselves that Lieut.-Col. Hamerton’s decease had left me

without support from the government of Zanzibar. After a priming with

opium, the monocular returned and reported that his men refused to open

their baggage, declaring their property to be “on their own heads.”

Whilst I was explaining the object of the measure, the escort appeared

in mass, and, with noise sufficient for a general action, ostentatiously

strewed their old clothes upon the ground, declaring that at Zanzibar

they were honourable men, and boasting that the Baloch were entrusted

with lacs of dollars by the Sayyid Said. Again I offered reasons, which,

as is the wont of the world in such cases, served only to make them more

hopelessly unreasonable. The Jemadar accused me of starving the party. I

told him not to eat abominations, upon which, clapping hand to hilt, he

theatrically forbade me to repeat the words. Being prostrated at the

time by fever, I could only show him how little dangerous he was by

using the same phrase half a dozen times. He then turned fiercely upon

the timid Said bin Salim, and having safely vented the excess of his

wrath, he departed to hold a colloquy with his men.

The debate was purposely conducted in so loud a tone that every word

reached my ears. Khudabakhsh, from first to last my evil genius and the

mainspring of all mischief, threatened to take “that man’s life,” at the

risk of chains for the remainder of his days. Another opined, that “in

all Nazarenes there is no good.” All complained that they had no

“hishmat” (respect!), no food, and, above everything, no meat.

Presently Said bin Salim was deputed by them to state that for the

future they would require one sheep per diem--men who, when at Zanzibar,

saw flesh probably once a year on the Eed. This being inadmissible, they

demanded three cloths daily instead of one. I would willingly have given

them two, as long as provisions continued scarce and dear, but the shade

of concession made them raise the number to four. They declared that in

case of refusal they would sleep at the village, and on the next day

would return to Zanzibar. Receiving a contemptuous answer, they marched

away in a body, noisily declaring that they were going to make instant

preparation for departure.

Such a proceeding on the part of several of these mercenaries was

inexcusable. They had been treated with kindness, and even indulgence.

They had hitherto never complained, simply because they had no cause for

complaint. One man, Ismail, who suffered from dysentery, had been

regularly supplied with food cooked by the Goanese; and even while we

dragged along our fevered frames on foot, he was allowed to ride an ass.

Yet the recreant never attempted a word of dissuasion, and deserted with

the rest.

After the disappearance of the Baloch, the Sons of Ramji were summoned.

I had privily ascertained from Said bin Salim the opinions of these men

concerning their leader: they said but little evil, complaining

principally of the Englishman’s “heat,” and that he was not wholly ruled

by their rascalities, whereas the Baloch in their private confabs never

failed to indulge in the choicest of Oriental Billingsgate. The slaves,

when they heard the state of the case, cheerfully promised to stand by

us, but on the same evening, assembled by Kidogo, they agreed to follow

the example of the escort on the first justifiable occasion. I did not

learn this till some days afterwards, and even if I had been told it on

the spot, it would have mattered little. My companion and I had made up

our minds, in case of the escort and the slaves deserting, to bury our

baggage, and to trust ourselves in the hands of the Wanyamwezi porters.

The storm, however,--a _brutum fulmen_--blew over with only noise.

A march was ordered for the next day--the 17th August. As the asses were

being loaded, appeared the one-eyed Jemadar, with Greybeard Musa and

Darwaysh, looking more crestfallen and foolish than they had ever looked

before. They took my hand with a polite violence, begged suppliantly for

a paper of dismissal to “cover their shame,” and declared that, so far

from deserting me, I was deserting them. As this required no reply, I

mounted and rode on.

The path fell easily westwards down a long grassy and jungly incline,

cut by several water-courses. About noon, I lay down half-fainting in

the sandy bed of the Muhama Nullah--the “Palmetto,” or “Fan-palm;” and

retaining Wazira and Mabruki, I urged the caravan forwards, that my

companion might send me back a hammock from the halting-place. Suddenly

appeared the whole body of deserters shouldering--as porters and asses

had been taken from them--their luggage, which outwardly consisted of

cloth, dirty rags, green skins, old earthen pots, and greasy gourds and

calabashes. They led me to a part of the nullah where stagnant water was

found, and showing abundant penitence, they ever and anon attempted

excuses, which were reserved for consideration. At 3 P.M., no hammock

appearing, I remounted, and pursued a path over rolling ground, with

masses of dwarf-hill flanking a low bottom, which renewed the scenery of

the “Slough of Despond”--Zungomero. Again the land, matted with putrid

grass, displayed the calabash and the hyphæna, the papaw and the

palmetto; the holcus and maize were of luxuriant dimensions, and deep

rat-holes, enlarged by the boy-hunters, broke the grassy path. I found

two little villages, inhabitated by Wangindo and Mandandu immigrants

from the vicinity of Kilwa. Then appeared on a hill-side the Kraal in

which the caravan had halted; the party had lost the road, and had been

dispersed by a swarm of wild bees, an accident even more frequent in

East Africa than in India.

Next morning the Baloch were harangued; they professed themselves

profoundly penitent, and attributing their unsoldier-like conduct to

opium, and to the Wiswas, the temptations of Sathanas, they promised to

reform. The promise was kept till we reached Ugogi. They were, however,

always an encumbrance; they did no good beyond creating an impression,

and “making the careless Æthiopians afraid.” I saw them, it is true, in

their worst colours. They held themselves to be servants of their

prince, and as no Eastern man can or will serve two masters, they

forfeited all claim to their sole good quality--manageability. As men,

they had no stamina; after a few severe marches they murmured that

“Famine, despair, thirst, cold, and heat,

Had done their work on them by turns.”

Their constitutions, sapped by long residence at Zanzibar, were

subject to many ailments, and in sickness they were softer than Indian

Pariahs. Under the slightest attack of fever, they threw themselves

moaning upon the ground; they were soon deterred by the sun from

bringing up the rear, and by night they would not keep watch or ward

even when in actual danger of robbery. Notwithstanding their affectation

of military carriage their bravery was more than problematical; they

were disciplined only by their fears. As men at arms, one and all

deserved to wear the wooden spoon: I saw the whole garrison of Kaole

firing for an hour, without effect, at a shell, stuck on a stick,

distant about a dozen paces: our party expended thirty pounds of

gunpowder without bagging a pair of antelope, and it was impossible to

trust them with ammunition; when unable to sell it, they wasted it upon

small birds. Ever claiming for themselves “hishmat,” or respect, they

forgot their own proverb that “courtesy hath two heads;” they complained

that they were not seated half the day in our tents, and the being “told

to depart,” when their terribly long visits rendered the measure

necessary, was a standing grievance. Like the lower races of Orientals,

they were ever attempting to intrude, to thrust themselves forwards, to

take an ell when an inch was offered; they considered all but themselves

fools, ready to be imposed upon by the flimsiest lie, by the shallowest

artifices. Gratitude they ignored; with them a favour granted was but an

earnest of favours to come, and one refusal obliterated the trace of a

hundred largesses. Their objects in life seemed to be eating, and buying

slaves; their pleasures, drinking and intrigue. Insatiable beggars were

they; noisy, boisterous, foul-mouthed knaves, swearers “with voices like

cannons;” rude and forward in manner, low and abusive in language, so

slanderous that for want of other subjects they would calumniate one

another, and requiring a periodical check to their presumption. I might

have spent the whole of my day in superintending the food of these

thirteen “great eaters and little runners.” Repeatedly warned, both by

myself and by my companion, that their insubordination would prevent our

recommending them for recompense at the end of the journey, they could

not check repeated ebullitions of temper. Before arrival at the coast

they seemed to have made up their minds that they had not fulfilled the

conditions of reward. After my departure from Zanzibar, however, they

persuaded Lieut.-Col. Hamerton’s successor to report officially to the

Government of Bombay “the claims of these men, the hardships they

endured, and the fidelity and perseverance they showed!”

At Muhama I halted three days, a delay which generally occurred before

long desert marches for which provisions are required. On the first,

Kidogo would bring about sixty pounds of grain; on the second, he would

disperse his men throughout the villages, and procure the 300 pounds

required for five marches; and on the third, he would cause it to be

husked and pounded, so as to be ready for the morrow. Three up-caravans,

containing a total of about 150 men, suffering severely from small-pox,

here passed us. One was commanded by Khalfan bin Muallim Salim and his

brother Id, coast Arabs, whom we afterwards met at two places. He told

me several deliberate falsehoods about the twenty-two porters that were

to follow us, for instance, that he had left them, halted by disease, at

Kidunda, in the maritime region, under the command of one Abdullah bin

Jumah, and thus he led me to expect them at a time when they had not

even been engaged. He and his men also spread reports in Ugogo and other

places where the people are peculiarly suspicious concerning the magical

and malignant powers of the “whites;” in fact, he showed all the bad

spirit of his bastard blood. At Muhama, the furthest point westward to

which the vuli or autumnal rains extend, the climate was still that of

the Rufuta Range, foggy, misty mornings, white rags of cloudbank from

the table-cloths outspread upon the heights, clear days, with hot suns

and chilling south winds, and raw dewy nights. I again suffered from

fever; the attack, after lasting seven days, disappeared, leaving,

however, hepatic complications, which having lasted uninterruptedly ten

months, either wore themselves out, or yielded to the action of acids,

narcotics, and stimulants tardily forwarded from Zanzibar. Here also

over-fatigue, in a fruitless shooting-excursion, combined with the

mephitic air of stagnant, weedy waters, caused a return of my

companion’s fever.

Two other Wanyamwezi porters were laid up with small-pox. One ass died

of fatigue, whilst a second torn by a hyæna, and a third too weak to

walk, were left, together with the animal that had been stung by bees,

in charge of Mpambe, headman of the Wangindo. Being now reduced to the

number of nineteen beasts, I submitted to Said bin Salim the

advisability of leaving behind wire and ammunition, either cached in the

jungle, as is the custom of these lands, or entrusted to the headman.

The Arab approved; Kidogo, however, dissented. I took the opinion of the

latter, he was positive that the effects once abandoned would never be

recovered, and that the headman, who appeared a kind of cunning idiot,

was not to be trusted. Some months afterwards I commissioned an Arab

merchant, who was marching towards the coast, to recover the asses left

in the charge of Mpambe; the latter refused to give them up, thus

proving the soundness of Kidogo’s judgment.

Having collected with difficulty--the land was sun-cracked, and the

harvest-store had been concealed by the people--some supplies, but

scarcely sufficient for the long desert tract, we began, on the 21st of

August, to cross the longitudinal plain that gently shelving westward

separates the Rufuta from the second, or Mukondokwa Range. The plain was

enclosed on all sides by low lines of distant hill, and cut by deep

nullahs, which gave more than the usual amount of trouble. The tall

Palmyra (_Borassus Flabelliformis_), whose majestic bulging column

renders it so difficult to climb, was a novel feature in the scenery.

This tree, the Mvumo of East Africa, and the Deleb-palm of the Upper

Nile, is scattered through the interior, extending to the far south. On

this line it is more common in Western Unyamwezi, where, and where only,

an intoxicating toddy is drawn from the cut frond, than elsewhere. The

country abounded in game, but we were both too weak to work--my

companion, indeed, was compelled to lag behind--and the Baloch, to whom

the guns were lent, returned empty-handed. Sign of the Mbogo (_Bos

Caffer_) here appeared; it is general in East Africa, especially upon

the river plains where water abounds. These wild cattle are fine

animals, somewhat larger than the common-sized English bullock, with

uniform dun skins, never parti-coloured like the tame herds, and with

thick black-brown horns, from twelve to thirteen inches broad at the

base, diverging outwards, and incurved at the points, which in large

specimens are distant about three feet from each other; they are

separated by a narrow channel, and this in age becomes a solid mass of

bone. The Mbogo is as dull of comprehension as it is fierce and

powerful; affecting particular spots, it will often afford several

chances of a successful shot to the Fundi--Shikari, or Chasseur--of a

caravan: the Africans kill it with arrows. The flesh, though considered

heating and bilious, is eaten, and the hide is preferred for thongs and

reins to that of the tame animal.

The approach to the kraal was denoted by a dead level of dry, caked, and

cracked mud, showing the subsidence of an extensive inundation. We

passed a large camping-ground, affected by down-caravans, on the near

side of the Makata, a long river-like “tank,” whose lay is E. by N. The

oozy banks of this water, which is said to flow after rains into the

Mukondokwa River, are fringed with liliaceous and other large aquatic

plants; the water, though dark, is potable. After fording the tank,

which was then breast-deep, we found on the further side the kraal used

by porters of up-caravans, who sensibly avoid commencing the day with

hard labour, and who fear that a sudden fall of rain might compel them

to intempestive halts. In such places, throughout the country, there are

two distinct khambi, one on each side of the obstacle, whether this be a

river, a pass, or a populous clearing; in the latter case, caravans

unload at the farther end of the cultivation, prepared to escape from a

fray into the jungle, without running the gauntlet of the villages. That

evening I tried to reduce the ever-increasing baggage of the sons of

Ramji, who added to the heaps piled upon the wretched asses, now

burdened with rations for several days, their drums and sleeping-hides,

and their cocks and hens, whilst they left the beds and the

cooking-utensils of the Goanese upon the ground. They informed me that

if our animals could not carry their property, they could not drive our

animals. The reply was significant. With some exertion of the “rascally

virtue”--Prudence--I retired.

The night was disturbed only by mosquitoes. These piping pests, however,

are less troublesome in this part of East Africa than might be expected

from the nature and the position of the country, and the bite has little

venom compared with those of the Mozambique, or even of Western India.

The common culex is a large variety, of brownish or dun colour; its

favourite breeding-places are the backwaters on the banks of rivers, and

the margins of muddy pools, and upon the creeks of the maritime regions,

and the Central Lakes.

Pursuing our march on the next day, I witnessed a curious contrast in

this strange African nature, which is ever in extremes, and where

extremes ever meet, where grace and beauty are seldom seen without a

sudden change to a hideous grotesqueness. A splendid view charmed me in

the morning. Above lay a sky of purest azure, flaked with fleecy

opal-tinted vapours floating high in the empyrean, and catching the

first roseate smiles of the unrisen sun. Long lines, one bluer than the

other, broken by castellated crags and towers of most picturesque form,

girdled the far horizon; the nearer heights were of a purplish-brown,

and snowy mists hung like glaciers about their folds. The plain was a

park in autumn, burnt tawny by the sun, patched with a darker hue where

the people were firing the grass--a party was at work merrily, as if

preparing for an English harvest-home--to start the animals, to promote

the growth of a young crop, and, such is the popular belief, to attract

rain. Calabashes, Palmyras, Tamarinds, and clumps of evergreen trees

were scattered over the scene, each stretching its lordly arms over

subject circlets of deep dew-fed verdure. Here the dove cooed loudly,

and the guinea-fowl rang its wild cry, whilst the peewit chattered in

the open stubble, and a little martin, the prettiest of its kind,

contrasted by its nimble dartings along the ground with the condor

wheeling slowly through the upper air. The most graceful of animals, the

zebra and the antelope, browsed in the distance: now they stood to gaze

upon the long line of porters, then, after leisurely pacing, with

retrospective glances, in an opposite direction, they halted motionless

for a moment, faced about once more to satiate curiosity, and lastly,

terrified by their own fancy, they bounded in ricochets over the plain.

About noon the fair scene vanished as if by enchantment. We suddenly

turned northwards into a tangled mass of tall fetid reeds, rank jungle

and forest, with its decaying trunks encroaching upon the hole-pierced

goat-track that zigzaged towards the Myombo River. This perennial stream

rises, according to the guides, in an elevation opposite to the

highlands of Dut’humi. It is about fifty feet broad at the ford,

breast-deep, and the swift brown waters swirl under a canopy of the

trees whose name it bears. The “Myombo” is a fine specimen of African

timber, apparently unknown to the people of Zanzibar, but extending

almost from the coast to the Lake Regions. The flower is greenish, with

the overpowering smell of the Indian jasmines; the fruit is a large pod,

containing ten or twelve long hard acorns, of a brown-black colour, set

in cups which resemble red sealing-wax. The coarse bark is used for

building huts and kraals, the inner fibre for “bast” and ropes, and the

wood makes what Easterns call a hot fire, lasting long, and burning well

out. After the fiery sun and the dry atmosphere of the plains, the

sudden effect of the dank and clammy chill, the result of exceeding

evaporation, under the impervious shades that line the river banks, was

overpowering. In such places one feels as if poisoned by miasma; a

shudder runs through the frame; and a cold perspiration, like the

prelude for a fainting-fit, breaks from the brow. Unloading the asses,

and fording the stream, we ascended the left bank, and occupied a kraal,

with fires still smoking, on its summit. Though another porter was left

behind with small-pox, I had little difficulty with the luggage on this

march: the more I worked the men, the harder they worked. Besides, they

seldom fell sick on the road, though often prostrated when halting, a

phenomenon which my companion explained by their hard eating and little

exercise when stationary, and which Said bin Salim more mercifully

attributed to the fatigue and exposure of the journey taking effect when

the excitement had passed away.

At dawn on the 23rd of August we resumed our journey, and in 4^{hrs} 30′

concluded the transit of the lateral plain, which separates the Rufuta

from the Mukondokwa Range. The path wound over a wintry land, green with

vegetation only in the vicinity of water. After struggling through a

forest of canes, we heard a ngoma, or large drum, which astonished us,

as we had not expected to find a village. Presently, falling into a

network of paths, we lost our way. After long wandering we came upon a

tobacco-field which the Baloch and the sons of Ramji had finished

stripping, and conducted by some Wanyamwezi who had delayed returning to

guide us, in order to indulge their love for drumming and plundering, we

arrived at the débris of a once flourishing village of Wasagara, called

Mbumi from its headman. A pitiable scene here presented itself. The huts

were torn and half-burnt, and the ground was strewed with nets and

drums, pestles and mortars, cots and fragments of rude furniture; and

though no traces of blood were observed, it was evident that a Commando

had lately taken place there. Said bin Salim opined this ruin to be the

work of Khalfan bin Salim, the youth who had preceded us from Muhama;

ever suspicious, he saw in it a plan adopted by the coast-Arab in order

to raise against us the people of the mountains. Kidogo, observing that

the damage was at least ten days’ old, more acutely attributed it to the

Moslem kidnappers of Whinde, who, aided by the terrible Kisabengo, the

robber-chief of Ukami, near K’hutu, harry the country with four or five

hundred guns. Two of the wretched villagers were seen lurking in the

jungle, not daring to revisit the wreck of their homes. Here again the

Demon of Slavery will reign over a solitude of his own creation. Can it

be that, by some inexplicable law, where Nature has done her best for

the happiness of mankind, man, doomed to misery, must work out his own

unhappiness? That night was spent at the deserted village by our men in

drumming, singing, and gleaning all that Khalfan’s gang had left; they

were, moreover, kept awake by fear lest they might be surprised by the

remnants of the villagers.

Late in the morning of the 24th of August, after losing another ass,

torn by a cynhyæna, we followed the path that leads from Mbumi along the

right bank of the Mukondokwa River to its ford. The marcescent

vegetation, and the tall, stiff, and thick-stalked grass, dripped with

dew, which struck cold as a freezing-mixture. The path was slippery with

mud, and man and beast were rendered wild by the cruel stings of a small

red ant and a huge black pismire. The former cross the road in dense

masses like the close columns of an army. They are large-headed, showing

probably that they are the defenders of the republic, and that they

perform the duties of soldiers in their excursions. Though they cannot

spring, they show great quickness in fastening themselves to the foot or

ankle as it brushes over them. The pismire, known to the people as the

“chungu-fundo,” or “siyafu” from the Arabic “siyaf,” is a horse-ant,

about an inch in length, whose bulldog-like head and powerful mandibles

enable it to destroy rats and mice, lizards and snakes. It loves damp

places upon the banks of rivers and stagnant waters; it burrows but

never raises hills, and it appears scattered for miles over the paths.

Like the other species, it knows neither fear nor sense of fatigue; it

rushes to annihilation without hesitating, and it cannot be expelled

from a hut except by fire or boiling water. Its bite, which is the

preamble to its meal, burns like a pinch with a red-hot needle; and when

it sets to work, twisting itself round and “accroupi” in its eagerness

for food, it may be pulled in two without relaxing its hold. The

favourite food of this pismire is the termite: its mortal enemy is a

large ginger-coloured ant, called from its painful wound “maji m’oto,”

or “hot-water.” In this foul jungle our men also suffered severely from

the tzetze. This fly, the torment of Cape travellers, was limited, by

Dr. Livingstone, to the regions south of the Zambezi river. A specimen,

brought home by me and submitted to Mr. Adam White, of the British

Museum, was pronounced by him to be a true Glossina morsitans, and Mr.

Petherick has fixed its limits about eight degrees north of the equator.

On the line followed by the Expedition, the tzetze was found extending

from Usagara westward as far as the Central Lakes; its usual habitat is

the jungle-strip which encloses each patch of cultivated ground, and in

the latter it is rarely seen. It has more persistency of purpose even

than the Egyptian fly, and when beaten off it will return half a dozen

times to the charge; it cannot be killed except by a smart blow, and its

long sharp proboscis draws blood even through a canvas hammock. It is

not feared by the naked traveller; the sting is as painful as that of an

English horsefly, and leaves a lasting trace, but this hard-skinned

people expect no evil consequences from it. In the vicinity of Kilwa it

was heard of under the name of “kipanga,” the “little sword.” It is

difficult to conceive the purpose for which this plague was placed in a

land so eminently fitted for breeding cattle and for agriculture, which

without animals cannot be greatly extended, except as an exercise for

human ingenuity to remove. Possibly at some future day, when the country

becomes valuable, the tzetze may be exterminated by the introduction of

some insectivorous bird, which will be the greatest benefactor that

Central Africa ever knew.

After about an hour’s march, the narrow tunnel in the jungle--it was so

close that only one ass could be led up and unloaded at a

time--debouched upon the Mukondokwa ford. The view was not unpleasing.

The swift brown stream was broadened by a branch-islet in its upper bed

to nearly a hundred yards, and its margins were fringed with rushes

backed by a screen of dense verdure and tall trees which occupied the

narrow space between the water and the hills. The descent and the

landing-place were equally bad. Slipping down the steep miry bank the

porters sank into the river breast-deep, causing not a little damage to

their loads: the ford now wetted the waist then the knee, and the

landing-place was a kind of hippopotamus-run of thick slushy mud,

floored with roots and branches, snags and sawyers, and backed by a

quagmire rendered passable only by its matwork of tough grass-canes laid

by their own weight. Having crossed over on our men’s backs, we ascended

a little rise and lay down somewhat in the condition of travelling Manes

fresh from the transit of the Styx. I ordered back Kidogo with a gang of

porters to assist Said bin Salim who was bringing up the rear: he

promised to go but he went the wrong way--forwards. Resuming our march

along the river’s left or northern bank, we wound along the shoulders

and the bases of hills, sometimes ascending the spurs of stony and

jungly eminences, where the paths were unusually rough and precipitous,

at other times descending into the stagnant lagoons, the reedy and rushy

swamps, and the deep bogs which margin the stream. After a total of six

hours we reached a kraal situated upon the sloping ground at the foot of

the northern walls which limit the grassy river basin: through this the

Mukondokwa flows in a dark turbid stream now narrowed to about forty

feet. The district of “Kadetamare” was formerly a provisioning station

where even cattle were purchaseable, a rare exception to the rule in the

smaller settlements of Usagara. I at once sent men to collect rations,

none, however, were procurable: meeting a small party that were bringing

grain from Rumuma, they learned that there was a famine in the land.

At Kadetamare the only pedometer, a patent watch-shaped instrument,

broke down, probably from the effects of the climate. Whilst carried by

my companion it gave a steady exaggerative rate, but being set to the

usual military pace of 30 inches, when transferred to the person of

“Seedy Bombay” and others, it became worse than useless, sometimes

showing 25 for 13 miles. I would suggest to future explorers in these

regions, as the best and the most lasting means of measuring distances,

two of the small wheelbarrow perambulators--it is vain to put trust in a

single instrument--which can each be rolled on by one man. And when

these are spoilt or stolen, timing with the watch, and a correct

estimate of the walking rate combined with compass-bearings, the mean of

the oscillations being taken when on the march, would give a

“dead-reckoning,” which checked by latitudes, as often as the cloudy

skies permit, and by a few longitudes at crucial stations, would afford

materials for a map approximating as nearly to correctness as could be

desired in a country where a “handful of miles” little matters. The

other instruments, though carefully protected from the air, fared not

better than the pedometer: with three pocket-chronometers and a valuable

lever-watch, we were at last reduced to find time by a sixpenny

sun-dial. Before the first fortnight after our second landing in Africa

had elapsed, all these instruments, notwithstanding the time and trouble

devoted to them by my companion, at Zanzibar, failed in their ratings

and became useless for chronometric longitudes. Two of them (Ed. Baker,

London, No. 863, and Barraud, London, No. 2/537), stopped without

apparent reason. A third, a first-rate article (Parkinson and Frodsham,

No. 2955), issued to me from the Royal Observatory Greenwich, at the

kind suggestion of Capt. Belcher, of the Admiralty, had its glass broken

and its second-hand lost by the blunderer Gaetano: we remedied that evil

by counting the ticks without other trouble than that caused by the odd

number,--5 to 2 seconds. This instrument also summarily struck work on

the 9th November, 1858, the day before we intended to have “made a night

of it” at Jiwe la Mkoa. This may serve as a warning for future

travellers to avoid instruments so delicate that a jolt will disorder

them--the hair-spring of the lever watch was broken by my companion in

jumping out of a canoe--and which no one but a professional can attempt

to repair. A box chronometer carried in a “petarah” by a pole swung

between two men so as to preserve its horizontality, might outlast the

pocket-instruments, yet we read in Capt. Owens celebrated survey of the

African coasts, that out of nine not one kept rate without fluctuations.

The best plan would be to purchase half-a-dozen sound second-hand

watches, carefully inspected and cleaned, and to use one at a time; if

gold-mounted, they would form acceptable presents to the Arabs, and

ultimately would prove economical by obviating the necessity of parting

with more valuable articles.

The break-down of the last chronometer disheartened us for a time.

Presently when our brains, addled by sun and sickness, had recovered

tone by a return to the Usagara sanitarium, we remembered a rough and

ready succedaneum for instruments. I need scarcely tell the reader that,

unhappily for travellers, the only means of ascertaining the longitude

of a place is by finding the difference between the local and Greenwich

times, and that this difference of time with certain corrections is

converted into distance of space. We split a 4 oz. rifle-ball, inserted

into it a string measuring 39 inches from the point of suspension to the

centre of the weight, and fixed it by hammering the halves together. The

loose end of the cord was attached to a three-edged file as a pivot, and

this was lashed firmly to the branch of a tree sheltered as much as

possible from the wind. Local time was ascertained with a sextant by

taking the altitude of a star or a planet; Greenwich time by a distance

between the star or planet and the moon, and the vibrations of our rude

pendulum did all that a watch could do, by registering the seconds that

elapsed between the several observations.

I am somewhat presuming upon the subject, but perhaps it may here be

better to chronicle the accidents which happened to the rest of our

instruments. We had two Schmalcalder’s compasses (H. Barron & Co., 26,

Oxenden Street), which, when the paste-board faces had been acclimatized

and no longer curled up against their glasses, did good service; one of

them was trodden upon by my companion, the other by a sailor during a

cruise on the lake. We returned with a single instrument, the gift of my

old friend Lieut.-General Monteith; it had surveyed Persia, and

outlasting two long excursions into Eastern Africa, it still outlives

and probably will outlive many of the showy articles now supplied by the

trade. Finally, a ship’s compass, mounted in gimbals for boat-work and

indented for upon the Engineer’s Stores, Bombay, soon became lumber, its

oscillations were too sluggish to be useful.

We left Kadetamare on the 25th August, to ascend the fluviatile valley

of the Mukondokwa. According to the guides this stream is the upper

course of the Kingani River, with which it anastomoses in Uzaramo(?) It

cuts its way through the chain to which it gives a name, by a

transversal valley perpendicular to the lay, and so conveniently

disposed that the mountains seem rather to be made for their drain than

the drain for its mountains. The fluviatile valley is apparently girt on

all sides by high peaks, with homesteads smoking and cattle grazing on

all sides. Crippled by the night-cold that rose from the river-bed, and

then wet through with the dew that dripped from the tall grass, we

traversed, within ear-shot of the frightened villagers who hailed one

another from the heights, some fields of grain and tobacco that had been

lately reaped. After an hour and a-half of marching we arrived at the

second ford of the Mukondokwa. Receiving less drainage than in the lower

bed, the stream was narrower and only knee-deep; the landing-place of

sloppy mud caused, however, many accidents to the asses, and on

inspecting our stores a few days afterwards we found them all soft and

mildewed. The reader will wonder that on these occasions we did not

personally inspect the proceedings of our careless followers. The fact

is we were physically and morally incapacitated for any exertion beyond

balancing ourselves upon the donkeys; at Kadetamare I had laid in

another stock of fever, and my companion had not recovered from his

second severe attack. After fording the Mukondokwa we followed the right

bank through cultivation, grass, and trees, up a gradually broadening

valley peculiarly rich in field-rats. The path then crossing sundry

swamps and nullahs, hill-spurs and “neat’s tongues,” equally rough

thorny and precipitous, presently fell into a river-reach where pools of

water, breast deep, and hedged in by impassable jungle and long runs of

slushy mire festering in a furious sun, severely tried the porters and

asses. Thence the road wound under the high hills to the South, whose

flanks were smoking with extensive conflagrations, whilst on the

opposite or left bank of the river, the opening valley displayed a

forest of palms and tall trees. About 2 P.M. I reached the ground, a

hutless circle of thorns, called by our people Muinyi: the rear-guard,

however, did not straggle in before 6 P.M., and the exhaustion of the

asses--seventeen now remained--rendered a day’s halt necessary.

During the last two marches the Baloch had been, they declared, without

grain; the sons of Ramji and the porters, more provident, had reserved a

small store, moreover they managed to procure a sheep from the next

station. On the morrow a party, headed by Muinyi Wazira, set out to

forage among the mountain settlements, bearing no arms in token of

peace. About noon they returned, and reported that at the sight of

strangers the people had taken to flight, after informing the party that

they were in the habit of putting to death all Murungwana or freemen

found trespassing off the road; however, that on this occasion the lives

of the strangers should be spared. But Ambari, a slave belonging to Said

bin Salim, presently tattled the true tale. The gallant foragers had not

dared to enter the village; when the war-cry flew from hamlet to hamlet,

and all the Wasagara, even the women and children, seized their spears

and stood to arms, they at once threw themselves into the jungle and

descended the hill with such unseemly haste that most of them bore the

wounds of thorns and stones. Two of Baloch, Riza and Belok, lit their

matches and set out proudly to provide themselves by their prowess; they

were derided by Kidogo: “Verily, O my brethren! ye go forth to meet men

and not women!” and after a hundred yards’ walk they took second

thoughts and returned. The Mukondokwa Mountains, once a garden, have

become a field for fray and foray; cruelty and violence have brutalised

the souls of the inhabitants, and they have learned, as several

atrocities committed since our passage through the country prove, to

wreak their vengeance upon all weaker than themselves.

On the 27th August we resumed our way under fresh difficulties. The last

march had cost us another ass. Muhinna, a donkey-driver, complaining of

fever, had been mounted by Kidogo without my permission, and had

summarily departed, thus depriving us of the services of a second,

whilst all were in a state of weakness which compelled them to walk at

their slowest pace. On the other hand, the men of the caravan, hungry

and suffering from raw south-east wind and the chilly cold, the result

not of low temperature but of humidity and extensive evaporation, were

for pushing forward as fast as possible. The path was painful, winding

along the shoulders of stony and bushy hills, with rough re-entering

angles, and sometimes dipping down into the valley of the Mukondokwa,

which, hard on the right, spread out in swamps, nearly two miles broad,

temporary where they depended upon rain, and permanent where their low

levels admitted of free infiltration. On the steep eminences to the left

of the path rose tall and thick the thorny aloetic and cactaceous growth

of arid Somaliland; the other side was a miniature of the marine

lagoons, the creeks, and the bayous of green Zanzibar. After three hours

of hard marching, the labour came to its crisis, where the path,

breaking off at a right angle from the river, wound up an insecure

ladder of loose earth and stones, which caused several porters and one

ass to lose their footing, and to roll with their loads through the

thorny bushes of the steep slope, near the off side, into the bed of

rushes below. Then leaving the river-valley on the right, we fell into a

Fiumara of deep loose sand, about a hundred yards broad, and occupying

the centre of a widening table-land. The view now changed, and the

“wady” afforded pleasant glimpses of scenery. Its broad, smooth and

glistening bed, dinted by the footprints of cattle, was bounded by low

perpendicular banks of stiff red clay, margined by mighty masses of

brilliant green tamarinds, calabashes, and sycomores, which stood

sharply out against the yellow stubbles beyond them. The Mkuyu or

sycomore in Eastern Africa is a magnificent tree; the bole, composed of

a pillared mass, averages from eight to ten feet in height, and the huge

branches, thatched with thick cool foliage, extend laterally,

overshadowing a circle whose perimeter, when the sun is vertical,

sometimes attains five hundred feet. The fruit, though eaten by

travellers, is a poor berry, all rind and seeds, with a slender title to

the name of fig. There are apparently two varieties of this tree,

resembling each other in general appearance, but differing in details.

The Mtamba has a large, heavy, and fleshy leaf; its fruit is not smooth

like that of the Mkuyu, but knobbed with green excrescences, and the

bole is loftier than the common sycomore’s trunk. The roots of the older

trees, rising above the earth, draw up a quantity of mould which, when

the wood is decayed or destroyed, forms the dwarf mounds that in many

parts encumber the surface of the country. Traces of extensive

cultivation--fields of bajri or panicum, the staple cereal which here

supplants the normal African holcus, or Kafir corn, and plantations of

luxuriant maize, of beans, of the vetch known as the voiandzeia

subterranea, of tobacco, and other plants--showed that this district is

beyond the reach of the coast-kidnappers. From the rising ground on the

left hand we heard the loud tattoo of the drum. The Baloch, choosing to

be alarmed, fired several shots, much to the annoyance of the irascible

Kidogo, who had laid down as a law that waste of powder in this region

was more likely to invite than to prevent an attack. As we ascended the

Fiumara it narrowed rapidly, and its head was encumbered with heaps of

boulders from which sprang a runnel of the sweetest water. The

camping-ground was upon the left bank of the bed. The guide called it

Ndábi, probably from a small gnarled tree here abundant, bearing a fruit

like a pale red currant, which tastes like sweetened gum dissolved in

dirty water. I lost no time in sending for provisions, which were scarce

and dear. Bombay failed in procuring a sheep, though the Baloch, by

paying six cloths, were more fortunate. One of Kidogo’s principles of

action, in which he was abetted by Said bin Salim, was to prevent our

buying provisions, however necessary, at high prices, fearing lest the

tariff thus established might become an “ada,” a precedent or custom for

future travellers, himself and others. We were, therefore, fain to

content ourselves and our servants with a little bajri and two eggs.

After a day’s halt at Ndabi we resumed the journey on the 29th August.

The path crossed a high and stony hill-shoulder, where the bleak raw air

caused one of the porters to lie down torpid like a frozen man. It then

stretched over gradually rising and falling ground to a dense bush of

cactaceæ and milk-bush, aloetic plants and thorns, based upon a surface

of brickdust-red. Beyond this point lay another plateau of wavy surface,

producing dwarfed and wind-wrung calabashes, and showing grain-fields

carefully and laboriously ridged with the hoe. Flocks and herds now

appeared in all directions. The ground was in some places rust-coloured,

in others dazzlingly white with a detritus of granite; mica glittered

like silver-filings in the sun, and a fine silky grass waved in the

wind, bleached clean of colour by the glowing rays. This plateau ended

in a descent with rapid slopes, over falls and steps of rock and boulder

into the basin of the Rumuma River. It is a southern influent, or a

bifurcation of the Mukondokwa, and it drains the hills to the south-west

of the Rumuma district, whereas the main stream, arising in the

highlands of the Wahumba or Wamusai, carries off the waters of the lands

on the west. Losing our way, we came upon this mountain-torrent, which

swirls through blocks and boulders under stiff banks of red earth

densely grown with brush and reeds; and to find the kraal we were

obliged to travel up the bed-side, through well-hoed fields irrigated by

raised water-courses. The khambi was badly situated in the dwarf hollow

between the river and the hills, and having lately been tenanted, as the

smoking embers showed, it was uncleanly in the extreme. It was

heart-breaking to see the asses that day. I left them to Said bin Salim,

who, with many others, did not appear till eventide.

Rumuma is a favourite resting-place with caravans, on account of the

comparative abundance of its supplies. I halted here two whole days, to

rest and feed the starving porters, and to repair the sacks, the

pack-saddles, and the other appointments of the asses. Here, for the

first time, the country people descended in crowds from the hills,

bringing fowls, hauling along small but beautifully formed goats, lank

sheep, and fine bullocks--the latter worth twelve cloths--and carrying

on their heads basket-platters full of the Voandzeia, bajri, beans, and

the _Arachis Hypogæa_. The latter is called by the Arabs Sumbul el

Sibal, or “Monkey’s Spikenard;” on the coast, Njugu ya Nyassa; in

Unyamwezi, Karanga or K’haranga, and further west, Mayowwa or Mwanza. It

is the Bhuiphali, or “earth-fruit” of India, and the Bik’han of

Maharatta land, where it is used by cheap confectioners in the place of

almonds, whose taste it simulates. Our older Cape travellers term it the

pig-nut. The plant extends itself along the surface of the ground, and

puts forth its fruit at intervals below. It is sown before the rains,

and ripens after six months,--in the interior about June. The Arabs fry

it with cream that has been slightly salted, and employ it in a variety

of rich dishes; it affords them also a favourite oil. The Africans use

it principally on journeys. The price greatly varies according to the

abundance of the article; when moderate, about two pounds may be

purchased for a “khete” of coral beads.

The Wasagara of Rumuma are short, black, beardless men. They wear their

hair combed off the forehead, and twisted into a fringe of little

pig-tails, which extend to the nape of the neck. Few boast of cloth, the

general body contenting themselves with a goat-skin flap somewhat like a

cobbler’s apron tied over one shoulder, as we sling a game-bag. Their

ornaments are zinc and brass earrings in rolls, which distend the

ear-lobe, bangles, or armlets of similar metal, and iron chains with

oblong links as anklets. Their arms are bows and arrows, assegais with

long lanceated heads, and bull-hide shields, three feet long by one

broad, painted black and red in perpendicular stripes. I was visited by

their Sultan Njasa, a small grizzled old man, with eyes reddened by

liquor, a wide mouth, a very thin beard, a sooty skin, and long

straggling hair, “_à la malcontent_.” He was attired in an antiquated

Barsati, or blue and red Indian cotton, tucked in at the waist, with

another thrown over his shoulders, and his neck was decked with many

strings of beads. He insisted upon making “sare” or brotherhood with

Said bin Salim, who being forbidden by his law to taste blood, made the

unconscientious Muinyi Wazira his proxy. The two brothers being seated

on the ground opposite each other, with legs well to the fore, one man

held over their heads a drawn sword, whilst another addressed to them

alternately a little sermon, denouncing death or slavery as the penalty

for proving false to the vow. Then each brother licked a little of the

other’s blood, taken with the finger from a knife-cut above the heart,

or rather where the heart is popularly supposed to be. The Sultan then

presented to the Muinyi, _in memoriam_, a neat iron chain-anklet, and

the Muinyi presented to the Sultan a little of our cloth.

The climate of Rumuma was new to me, after the incessant rains of the

maritime valley, and the fogs and mists of the Rufuta Range. It was,

however, in extremes. At night the thermometer, under the influence of

dewy gusts, sank in the tent to 48° F., a killing temperature in these

latitudes to half-naked and houseless men. During the day the mercury

ranged between 80° and 90° F.; the sun was fiery, whilst a furious south

wind coursed through skies purer and bluer than I had ever seen in

Greece or Italy. At times, according to the people, the hill-tops are

veiled, especially in the mornings and evenings, with thick nimbus,

vapours, and spitting clouds, which sometimes extend to the plain, and

discharge heavy showers that invariably cause sickness. Here my

companion once more suffered from an attack of “liver,” brought on, he

supposed, from over-devotion to a fat bullock’s hump. Two of the

Wanyamwezi porters were seized with preliminary symptoms of small-pox,

euphuistically termed by Said bin Salim “shurua,” or chicken-pox.

Several of the slaves, including the charming Halimah, were laid up; the

worst of all, however, was Valentine, who complained of an unceasing

racking headache, whilst his puffed cheeks and dull-yellow skin gave him

the look of one newly deceased. At length, divining his complaint, he

was cupped by a Mnyamwezi porter, and he recovered after the operation

strength and appetite.

The 2nd of September saw us _en route_ to Márengá Mk’hali, or the

“brackish water.” Fording the Rumuma above the spot where it receives

the thin supplies of the Márengá Mk’hali, we marched over stony hills

and thorny bushes, dotted with calabash and mimosa, the castor-shrub and

the wild egg-plant, and gradually rising, we passed into scattered

fields of holcus and bajri, pulse and beans. Here, for the first time,

bee-hives, called by the coast-people Mazinga, or cannons, from their

shape, hollowed cylindrical logs, closed with grass and puddle at both

ends, and provided with an oval opening in the centre, were seen hanging

to the branches of the foliaged trees. Cucumbers, water-melons, and

pumpkins grew apparently without cultivation. The water-melon, called by

the Arabs Johh, and by the Wasawahili Tikiti, flourishes throughout the

interior, where it is a favourite with the people. It is sown before the

rainy season, gathered after six months, and placed to ripen upon the

flat roofs of the villages. Like the produce of Kafir-land, it is hard,

insipid, fleshy, and full of seeds, having nothing but the name in

common with the delicious fruit of Egypt and Afghanistan. The Junsal, or

Boga, the pumpkin, is, if possible, worse than the water-melon. Its red

meat, simply boiled, is nauseously sweet; it is, however, considered

wholesome, and the people enjoy the seeds toasted, pounded, and mixed

with the “Mboga,” or wild vegetables, with which a veritable African

can, in these regions, keep soul and body together for six months. About

10 A.M., I found Khalfan’s caravan halted in a large kraal amongst the

villages, on the eastern hill above the “brackish water.” They were

loading for the march, and my men looked wistfully at the comfortable

huts; but their halt had been occasioned by small-pox, I therefore

hurried forwards across the streamlet to a wind-swept summit of an

opposite hill. The place was far from pleasant, the gusts were furious;

by night the thermometer showed 54° F., by day there was but scanty

shelter from the fiery sun, and the “Márengá Mk’hali,” which afforded

the only supplies of water, was at a considerable distance. Moreover our

umbrellas and bedding suffered severely from a destructive host of white

ants, that here became troublesome for the first time. The “Chunga

Mchwa,” or termite, abounds throughout the sweet red clay soils, and

cool damp places, avoiding heat, sand, and stone, and it acts like a

clearer and scavenger; without it, indeed, some parts of the country

would be impassable, and it is endowed with extraordinary powers of

destruction. A hard clay-bench has been drilled and pierced like a sieve

by these insects in a single night, and bundles of reeds placed under

bedding, have in a few hours been converted into a mass of mud; straps

were consumed, cloths and umbrellas were reduced to rags, and the mats

used for covering the servants’ sleeping-gear were, in the shortest

possible time, so tattered as to be unserviceable. Man revenges himself

upon the white ant, and satisfies his craving for animal food, which in

these regions becomes a principle of action,--a passion,--by boiling the

largest and fattest kind, and eating it as a relish with his insipid

ugali, or porridge. The termite appears to be a mass of live water. Even

in the driest places it finds no difficulty in making a clay-paste for

the mud-galleries, like hollow tree-twigs, with which it disguises its

approach to its prey. The phenomenon has been explained by the

conjecture that it combines by vital force the atmospheric oxygen with

the hydrogen evolved by its food. When arrived at the adult state, the

little peoples rise ready-winged, like thin curls of pipe-smoke,

generally about even-tide, from the ground. After a flight of a few

yards, the fine membranes, which apparently serve to disperse the

insects into colonies, drop off. In East Africa there is also a

semi-transparent brown ant, resembling the termite in form, but

differing in habits, and even exceeding it in destructiveness. It does

not, like its congener, run galleries up to the point of attack. Each

individual works for itself in the open air, tears the prey with its

strong mandibles, and carries it away to its hole. The cellular hills of

the termites in this country rarely rise to the height of three feet,

whereas in Somali-land they become dwarf towers, forming a conspicuous

feature in the view.

No watch was kept by the Baloch at Márengá Mk’hali, though we were then

in the vicinity of the bandit Wahumba. On the next day we were harangued

by Kidogo, who proceeded to expound the principles that must guide us

through the unsafe regions ahead. The caravan must no longer straggle on

in its usual disorder, the van must stop short when separated from the

main body, and the rear must advance at the double when summoned by the

sound of the Barghumi, or the koodoo-horn, which acts as bugle in

Eastern Africa. I thought, at the time, that Kidogo might as well

address his admonitions to the wind, and I thought rightly.

The route lay through the lateral plain which separates the Mukondokwa

or second, from the Rubeho or third parallel range of the Usagara

Mountains. At Márengá, Mk’hali, situated as it is under the lee of the

two eastern walls, upon which the humid N. E. and S. E. trade-winds

impinge, the eye no longer falls, as before, upon a sheet of monotonous

green, and the nose is not offended by the death-like exhalations of a

pestilent vegetation. The dew diminishes, the morning-cloud is rare upon

the hill-top, and the stratus is not often seen in the valley; rain,

moreover, seldom falls heavily, except during its single appointed

season. The climate is said to be salubrious, and the medium elevation

of the land, 2500 feet, raises it high above the fatal fever-level,

without attaining the altitudes where dysentery and pleurisy afflict the

inhabitants. For many miles beyond Márengá Mk’hali water is rarely

found. Caravans, therefore, resort to what is technically called a

“Tirikeza,” or afternoon march. In the Kisawahili, or coast-language,

“ku Tirikeza,” or “Tilikeza,” and in Kinyamwezi, “ku Witekezea,” is the

infinitive of a neuter verb signifying “to march after noon-day”; by the

Arabs it is corrupted into a substantive. Similarly the verb ku honga,

to pay “dash”, tribute, passage-money, or blackmail, becomes in the

mouths of the stranger, ku honga, or Honga. The tirikeza is one of the

severest inflictions that African travelling knows. At 11 A.M.

everything is thrown into confusion, although two or three hours must

elapse before departure; loads are bound up, kitchen-batteries are

washed and packed, tents are thrown, and stools are carried off by

fidgeting porters and excited slaves. Having drunk for the last time,

and filled their gourds for the night, the wayfarers set out when the

midday ends. The sun is far more severely felt after the sudden change

from shade, than during the morning marches, when its increase of heat

is slow and gradual. They trudge under the fireball in the firmament,

over ground seething with glow and reek, through an air which seems to

parch the eyeballs, and they endure this affliction till their shadows

lengthen out upon the ground. The tirikeza is almost invariably a

lengthy stage, as the porters wish to abridge the next morning’s march,

which leads to water. It is often bright moonlight before they arrive at

the ground, with faces torn by the thorns projecting across the jungly

path, with feet lacerated by stone and stub, and occasionally a leg

lamed by stumbling into deep and narrow holes, the work of field-rats

and of various insects.

We left Márengá Mk’hali at 1 P.M., on the 3rd September, and in order to

impressionise a large and well-armed band of the country people that had

gathered to stare at, to criticise, and to deride us, we indulged in a

little harmless sword-play, with a vast show of ferocity and readiness

for fight. The road lay over several rough, steep, and bushy ridges,

where the wretched asses, rushing away to take advantage of a yard of

shade, caused constant delays. The Wanyamwezi animals having a great

persistency of character, could scarcely be dislodged; and when they

were, they threw their loads in pure spite. After topping a little “col”

or pass, we came in sight of an extensive basin, bounded by distant blue

hills, to which the porters pointed with a certain awe, declaring them

to be the haunts of the fierce Wahumba. A descent of the western flank

led us to a space partially cleared by burning, when the cry arose that

men were lurking about. We then plunged into a thick bush of thorny

trees, based upon a red clayey soil caked into the semblance of a rock.

Contrary to expectation, when crossing a deep nullah trending

northwards, we found a little rusty, ochreish water, in one of the cups

and holes that dented the sandstone of the soles. Thence the path,

gradually descending, fell into a coarse scrub, varied with small open

savannahs, and broken, like the rest of the road, by deep, narrow

watercourses, which carry off the waters of the southern hills to the

northern lowlands. About 6 P.M., we came upon a cleared space in a thick

thorn-jungle, where we established ourselves for the night. The near

whine of the hyæna, and the alarm of the asses, made sleep a difficulty.

The impatience and selfishness of thirst showed strongly in the Baloch.

Belok had five large gourds full of water, perhaps three gallons, yet he

would not part with a palmful to the sick Ismail. That day I was

compelled to dismiss my usual ass-leader Shahdad, the zeze-player and

fracturer of female hearts, who preferring the conversation of his

fellows, dragged the animal through thorns and alongside of trees so

artistically, that my nether garments were soon in strips. I substituted

for him Musa the Greybeard, who, after a few days, begged, with bitter

tears, to be excused. It was his habit to hurry on towards the kraal and

shade, and the slow hobble of the ass detained him a whole hour in sore

discomfort. The task was then committed to the tailor-youth Hudul, who

lost no time in declaring that I had abused him--that he was a

Baloch--that he was not an asinego. Then I tried Abdullah,--the good

young man. I dismissed him because every day brought with it a fresh

demand for cloth or beads, gourds or sandals, for a “chit” to the

Balyuz--the Consul, or a general good character as regards honesty,

virtue, and the _et ceteras_. Finally the ass was entrusted to the

bull-headed slave Mabruki, who thinking of nothing but chat with his

“brother,” Seedy Bombay, and having that curious mania for command which

seems part of every servile nature, hurried my monture so recklessly,

that earth-cracks and rat-holes caused us twain many a severe fall. My

companion had entrusted himself to Bombay, who, though he did nothing

well rarely did anything very badly.

The 4th September began with an hour’s toil through the dense bush, to a

rapid descent over red soil and rocks, which necessitated frequent

dismounting,--no pleasant exercise after a sleepless night. Below, lay a

wide basin of rolling ground, surrounded in front by a rim of hills. It

was one of the many views which “catching the reflex of heaven,” and

losing by indistinctness the harshness of defined outline and the

deformity of individual feature, assume, viewed from afar, a peculiar

picturesqueness. Traces of extensive cultivation, flocks and herds, were

descried in the lower levels, which were a network of sandy nullahs; and

upon the rises, the regular and irregular square or oblong habitations,

called “Tembe,” were seen for the first time. Early September is, in

this region, the depth of winter. Under the burning, glaring sun, the

grass becomes white as the ground; the fields, stubbles stiff as

harrows, are stained only by the shadow of passing clouds; the trees,

except upon the nullah-banks, are gaunt and bare, the animals are

walking skeletons, and nothing seems to flourish but flies and white

ants, caltrops and grapple-plants. After crossing deep water-cuts

trending N.E. and N.N.E., we descended a sharp incline and a rough

ladder of boulders, and found a dirty and confined kraal, on the side of

a rocky khad[8] or ravine, which drains off the surplus moisture of the

westerly crags and highlands, and which affords sweet springs, that

cover the soil as far as they extend with a nutritious and succulent

grass. As this was to be a halting-place, a more than usually violent

rush was made by the Baloch, the sons of Ramji, and the porters, to

secure the best quarters. The Jemadar remaining behind with three of the

Wanyamwezi, who were unable to walk, did not arrive till after noon, and

my companion, suffering from a paroxysm of bilious fever, came in even

later. Valentine was weaker than usual, and Gaetano groaned more

frequently, “ang duk’hta”--body pains! To add other troubles, an ass had

been lost, and “Khamsin,”--No. 50--my riding-animal, had by breaking a

tooth in fighting incapacitated itself for food or drink: its feebleness

compelled me to transfer the saddle to the last of the Zanzibar

riding-asses, Siringe,--the Quarter-dollar--and Siringe, sadly

back-sore, cowering in the hams, and slipping from under me every few

minutes, showed present signs of giving in.

[8] The Indian “khad” is the deep rocky drain in hilly countries, thus

differing from the popular idea of a “ravine,” and from the nullah,

which is a formation in more level lands.

The basin of Inenge lies at the foot of the Rubeho or “Windy Pass,” the

third and westernmost range of the Usagara Mountains. The climate, like

that of Rumuma, is ever in extremes--during the day a furnace, and at

night a refrigerator--the position is a funnel, which alternately

collects the fiery sunbeams and the chilly winds that pour down from the

misty highlands. The villagers of the settlements overlooking the

ravine, flocked down to barter their animals and grain. Here, for the

first time since our departure from the coast, honey, clarified butter,

and, greatest boon of all, milk, fresh and sour, were procurable. The

man who has been restricted to a diet so unwholesome as holcus and

bajri, with an occasional treat of kennel-food,--broth and beans,--will

understand that the first unexpected appearance of milk, butter, and

honey formed an epoch in our journey.

The halt was celebrated with abundant drumming and droning, which lasted

half the night; it served to cheer the spirits of the men, who had

talked of nothing the whole day but the danger of being attacked by the

Wahumba. On the next morning arrived a caravan of about 400 Wanyamwezi

porters marching to the coast, under the command of Isa bin Hijji and

three other Arab merchants. An interchange of civilities took place. The

Arabs lacking cloth could not feed their slaves and porters, who

deserted daily, imperilling a valuable investment in ivory. The

Europeans could afford a small contribution of three Gorah or pieces of

domestics: they received a present of fine white rice, a few pounds of

salt, and a goat, in exchange for a little perfumed snuff and

assafœtida, which after a peculiar infusion is applied to wounds, and

which, administered internally, is considered a remedy for many

complaints. I was allured to buy a few yards of rope, indispensable for

packing the animals. The number of our asses being reduced from thirty

to fifteen, and the porters from thirty-six to thirty, it was necessary

to recruit. The Arabs sold two Wanyamwezi animals for ten dollars each,

payable at Zanzibar. One proved valuable as a riding ass, and carried me

to the Central Lake, and back to Unyanyembe: the other, though caponized

and blind on the off-side, had become by bad treatment so obstinate and

so cleverly vicious, that the Baloch called him “Shaytan yek-cham,” or

the “one-eyed fiend:” he carried, besides sundries, four boxes of

ammunition, weighing together 160 pounds, and even under these he danced

like a deer. Nothing was against him but his character: after a few days

he was cast adrift in the wilderness of Mgunda M’khali, because no man

dared to load and lead him. Knowing that the Arab merchants upon this

line hold it a point of honour to discourage, by refusing a new

engagement, the down-porters in their proclivity to desert, and

believing that it was a stranger’s duty to be even stricter than they

are, I gave most stringent orders that any fugitive porter detected in

my caravan should be sent back a prisoner to his employers. But the

Coast-Arabs and the Wasawahili ignore this commercial chivalry, and

shamelessly offer a premium to “levanters:” moreover, in these lands it

is hard to make men understand the _rapport_ between sayings and doings.

Seven or eight fellows, who secretly left the party, were sent back;

one, however, was taken on without my knowledge. Said bin Salim

persuaded the merchants to lend us the services of three Wanyamwezi, who

for sums varying from eight Shukkah to two cloths, and a coil large

enough to make three wire bracelets, undertook to carry packs as far as

Unyanyembe. Our Ras Kafilah had increased in Uzaramo his suite by the

addition of “Zawada,”--the “nice gift,” a parting present of the headman

Kizaya. She was a woman about thirty, with a black skin shining like a

patent-leather boot, a bulging brow, little red eyes, a wide mouth which

displayed a few long, strong, scattered teeth, and a figure considerably

too bulky for her thin legs, which were unpleasantly straight, like

ninepins. Her _morale_ was superior to her _physique_; she was a patient

and hard-working woman, and respectable in the African acceptation of

the term. She was at once married off to old Musangesi, one of the

donkey-men, whose nose and chin made him a caricature of our dear old

friend Punch. After detecting her in a lengthy walk, perhaps not

solitary, through the jungle, he was palpably guilty of such cruelty

that I felt compelled to decree a dissolution of the marriage. After

passing through sundry adventures she returned safely to Zanzibar,

where, for aught I know, she may still grace the harem of Said bin

Salim. At Inenge another female slave was added to the troop, in the

person of the lady Sikujui, “Don’t know,” a “mulier nigris dignissima

barris,” whose herculean person and virago manner raised her value to

six cloths and a large coil of brass wire. The channel of her upper lip

had been pierced to admit a disk of bone; her Arab master had attempted

to correct the disfigurement by scarification and the use of rock-salt,

yet the distended muscles insisted upon projecting sharply from her

countenance, like a duck’s bill, or the beak of an ornithorhyncus. This

truly African ornamentation would have supplied another instance to the

ingenious author of “Anthropometamorphosis.”[9] “Don’t know’s” morals

were frightful. She was duly espoused--as the forlorn hope of making her

an “honest woman”--to Goha, the sturdiest of the Wak’hutu porters; after

a week she treated him with a sublime contempt. She gave him first one,

then a dozen rivals; she disordered the caravan by her irregularities;

she broke every article entrusted to her charge, as the readiest way of

lightening her burden, and--“le moindre défaut d’une femme galante est

de l’être”--she deserted so shamelessly that at last Said bin Salim

disposed of her, at Unyanyembe, for a few measures of rice, to a

travelling trader, who came the next morning to complain of a broken

head.

[9] Anthropometamorphosis: Man-transformed: or the Artificial

Changeling, historically presented, In the mad and cruel Gallantry,

foolish Bravery, Ridiculous Beauty, filthy Finenesse, and loathsome

Loveliness of most NATIONS, fashioning and attiring their Bodies from

the mould intended by NATURE; with figures of these Transfigurations.

To which artificial and affected Deformations are added, all the

Native and National Monstrosities that have appeared to disfigure the

Humane Fabrick. With a VINDICATION of the Regular Beauty and Honesty

of NATURE. With an Appendix of the Pedigree of the ENGLISH GALLANT.

Scripsit J. B. Cognomento Chirosophus, M.D “In nova fert animus,

mutatas dicere formas.” London: Printed by William Hunt, Anno. Dom.

1653.

Isa bin Hijji did us various good services. He and his companions kindly

waited some days to superintend our preparations for crossing the Rubeho

Range. They supplied useful hints for keeping the caravan together at

different places infamous for desertion. They gave me valuable

information about Ugogo and Ujiji, and they placed at my disposal their

house at Unyanyembe. They “wigged” the Kirangozi, or guide, for

carelessness in not building a kraal-fence every night, and for not

bringing in, as the custom is, wood and water. Kidogo was reproved for

allowing his men to load our asses with their luggage, and the Baloch

for their continual complaints about food. The latter had long forgotten

the promises made at Muhama; they returned at every opportunity to their

old tactic, that of obtaining, by all manner of pretexts, as much cloth

and beads as possible, ostensibly for provisions, really for trading and

buying slaves. At Rumuma they declared that one cloth per diem starved

them. Said bin Salim sent them its value, about fifty pounds of beans,

and they had abundant rations of beef and mutton, but they could not eat

beans. At Inenge they wanted flour, and as the country people sold only

grain, they gave themselves up to despair. I sent for the Jemadar and

told him, in presence of the merchants, that, as a fitting opportunity

had presented itself, I was willing to weed the party, by giving

official dismissal to Khudabakhsh and Belok, to the invalid Ismail and

his musical “brother” Shahdad. All four, when consulted, declared that

they would die rather than blacken their faces by abandoning the “Haji

Abdullah;” that same evening, however, as I afterwards learned, they

wrote, by means of the Arabs, a heartrending complaint to their chief

Jemadar at Zanzibar, declaring that he had thrown them into the fire (of

affliction), and that their blood was upon his hands. My companion

prepared official papers and maps for the Secretary of the Royal

Geographical Society, and I again indented upon the Consul and the

Collector of Customs for drugs, medical comforts, and an extra supply of

cloth and beads, to the extent of 400 dollars, for which a cheque upon

my agents in Bombay was enclosed. The Arabs took leave of us on the 2nd

September. I charged them repeatedly not to spread reports of our

illness, and I saw them depart with regret. It had really been a relief

to hear once more the voice of civility and sympathy.

The great labour still remained. Trembling with ague, with swimming

heads, ears deafened by weakness, and limbs that would hardly support

us, we contemplated with a dogged despair the apparently perpendicular

path that ignored a zigzag, and the ladders of root and boulder, hemmed

in with tangled vegetation, up which we and our starving drooping asses

were about to toil. On the 10th September we hardened our hearts, and

began to breast the Pass Terrible. My companion was so weak that he

required the aid of two or three supporters; I, much less unnerved,

managed with one. After rounding in two places wall-like sheets of

rock--at their bases green grass and fresh water were standing close to

camp, and yet no one had driven the donkeys to feed--and crossing a

bushy jungly step, we faced a long steep of loose white soil and rolling

stones, up which we could see the Wanyamwezi porters swarming, more like

baboons scaling a precipice than human beings, and the asses falling

after every few yards. As we moved slowly and painfully forwards,

compelled to lie down by cough, thirst, and fatigue, the “sayhah” or

war-cry rang loud from hill to hill, and Indian files of archers and

spearmen streamed like lines of black ants in all directions down the

paths. The predatory Wahumba, awaiting the caravan’s departure, had

seized the opportunity of driving the cattle and plundering the villages

of Inenge. Two passing parties of men, armed to the teeth, gave us this

information; whereupon the negro “Jelai” proposed, fear-maddened--a

_sauve qui peut_--leaving to their fate his employers, who, bearing the

mark of Abel in this land of Cain, were ever held to be the head and

front of all offence. Khudabakhsh, the brave of braves, being attacked

by a slight fever, lay down, declaring himself unable to proceed, moaned

like a bereaved mother, and cried for drink like a sick girl. The rest

of the Baloch, headed by the Jemadar, were in the rear; they had

levelled their matchlocks at one of the armed parties as it approached

them, and, but for the interference of Kidogo, blood would have been

shed.

By resting after every few yards, and by clinging to our supporters, we

reached, after about six hours, the summit of the Pass Terrible, and

there we sat down amongst the aromatic flowers and bright shrubs--the

gift of mountain dews--to recover strength and breath. My companion

could hardly return an answer; he had advanced mechanically and almost

in a state of coma. The view from the summit appeared eminently

suggestive, perhaps unusually so, because disclosing a retrospect of

severe hardships, now past and gone. Below the foreground of giant

fractures, huge rocks, and detached boulders, emerging from a shaggy

growth of mountain vegetation, with forest glens and hanging woods,

black with shade gathering in the steeper folds, appeared, distant yet

near, the tawny basin of Inenge, dotted with large square villages,

streaked with lines of tender green, that denoted the water-courses,

mottled by the shadows of flying clouds, and patched with black where

the grass had been freshly fired. A glowing sun gilded the canopy of

dense smoke which curtained the nearer plain, and in the background the

hazy atmosphere painted with its azure the broken wall of hill which we

had traversed on the previous day.

Somewhat revived by the _tramontana_ which rolled like an ice-brook down

the Pass, we advanced over an easy step of rolling ground, decked with

cactus and the flat-topped mimosa, with green grass and bright shrubs,

to a small and dirty khambi, in a hollow flanked by heights, upon which

several settlements appeared. At this place, called the “Great Rubeho,”

in distinction from its western neighbour, I was compelled to halt. My

invalid sub. had been seized with a fever-fit that induced a dangerous

delirium during two successive nights; he became so violent that it was

necessary to remove his weapons, and, to judge from certain symptoms,

the attack had a permanent cerebral effect. Death appeared stamped upon

his features, yet the Baloch and the sons of Ramji clamoured to advance,

declaring that the cold disagreed with them.

On the 12th September the invalid, who, restored by a cool night, at

first proposed to advance, and then doubted his ability to do so, was

yet hesitating when the drum-signal for departure sounded without my

order. The Wanyamwezi porters instantly set out. I sent to recal them,

but they replied that it was the custom of their race never to return; a

well-sounding principle against which they never offended except to

serve their own ends. At length a hammock was rigged up for my

companion, and the whole caravan broke ground.

The path ran along the flank of an eminence, and, ascending a second

step, as steep but shorter than the Pass Terrible, placed us at the

Little Rubeho, or Windy Pass, the summit of the third and westernmost

range of the Usagara Mountains, raised 5,700 feet above the sea-level.

It is the main water-parting of this ghaut-region. At Inenge the trend

is still to the S.E.; beyond Rubeho the direction is S.W. Eventually,

however, the drainage of both slope and counter-slope finds its way to

the Indian Ocean, the former through the Mukondokwa and the Kingani, the

latter through the Rwaha and the Rufiji Rivers.

A lively scene awaited my arrival at the “Little Rubeho.” From a

struggling mass of black humanity, which I presently determined to be

our porters, proceeded a furious shouting and yelling. Spears and

daggers flashed in the sun, and cudgels played with a threshing movement

which promised many a broken head. At the distance of a few yards, with

fierce faces and in motionless martial attitudes, the right hand upon

the axe-handle stuck in the waist-belt, and the left grasping the bow

and two or three polished assegais, stood a few strong fellows, the

forlorn hope of the fray. In the midst of the crowd, like Norman

Ramsay’s troop begirt by French cavalry--to compare small things with

great--rose and fell the chubby, thickset forms of Muinyi Wazira and his

four Wak’hutu, who, undaunted by numbers, were dealing death to nose and

scalp. Charge! Mavi ya Gnombe (“Bois de Vache”) charge! On! Mashuzi

(“Fish Fry-soup”) on! Bite, Kuffan Kwema (“To die is good”) bite, Smite,

Na daka Mali (“I want wealth”) smite! At length, when

“Blood (t’was from the nose) began to flow,”

a little active interference rescued the five “enfans perdus.” The

porters had been fighting upon the question whether the men with

small-pox should, or should not, be admitted into the kraal, and Muinyi

Wazira and his followers, under the influence of potations which

prevented their distinguishing friend from foe, had proved themselves,

somewhat unnecessarily heroes. It is usually better to let these

quarrels work themselves out; if prematurely cut short, the serpent,

wrath, is scotched, not slain. A little “punishment” always cools the

blood, and secures peace and quiet for the future. Moreover, the busy

peacemaker here often shares the fate of M. Porceaugnac, and earns the

reward of those who, according to the proverb, in quarrels interpose. It

is vain to investigate, where all is lie, the origin of the squabble.

Nothing easier, as the Welsh justice was fond of declaring, than to

pronounce judgment after listening to one side of the question; but an

impartial hearing of both would strike the inquiring mind with a sense

of impotence. Perhaps it is not unadvisable to treat the matter after

the fashion adopted by a “police-officer,” a certain captain in the _X.

Y. Z._ army, who deemed it his duty to discourage litigiousness and

official complaints amongst the quarrelsome Sindhi population of

Hyderabad. The story is somewhat out of place; though so being, I will

here recount it.

Would enter, for instance, two individuals in an oriental costume

considerably damaged; one has a cloth carefully tied round his head, the

other has artificially painted his eye and his ear with a few drops of

blood from the nose. They express their emotions by a loud drumming of

the tom-tom accompanying the high-sounding Cri de Haro--Faryad! Faryad!

Faryad!--

“I’ll ‘Faryad’ yer, ye”----

After these, the usual appellatives with which the “native” was in those

days, on such occasions received, the plaintiff is thus addressed:--

“Well, you--fellow! your complaint, what is it?”

“Oh, Sahib! Oh, cherisher of the poor! this man who is, the same hath

broken into my house, and made me eat a beating, and called my ma and

sister naughty names, and hath stolen my brass pot, and--”

“Bas! bas! enough!” cries the beak; “tie him”--the defendant--“up, and

give him three dozen with thine own hand.”

The wrathful plaintiff, as may be imagined, is nothing loath. After

being vigorously performed upon by the plaintiff aforesaid, the

defendant is cast loose, and is in turn addressed as follows:--

“Well, now, you fellow! what say you?”

“Oh, my lord and master! Oh, dispenser of justice! what lies hath not

this man told? What abominations hath he not devoured? Behold (pointing

to his war-paint) the sight! He hath met me in the street; he hath

thrown me down; he hath kicked and trampled upon me; he hath--”

“Bas! enough!” again cries the beak: “tie him--the plaintiff--up, and

see if you can give _him_ a good three dozen.”

Again it may be imagined that the three dozen are well applied by the

revengeful defendant, and that neither that plaintiff nor that defendant

ever troubled that excellent “police-officer” again.

On Rubeho’s summit we found a single village of villanous Wasagara;

afterwards “made clean”--as the mild Hindu expresses the extermination

of his fellow-men--by a caravan in revenge for the murder of a porter.

We were delayed on the hill-top a whole day, despite the extreme

discomfort of all hands. Water had to be fetched from a runnel that

issued from a rusty pool shaded by tilted-up strata of sandstone, at

least a mile distant from camp. Rain fell daily, alternating with

eruptions of sun; a stream of thick mist rolled down the ravines and

hollows, and at night the howling winds made Rubeho their meeting-place.

Yet neither would the sons of Ramji carry my companion’s hammock, nor

would Said bin Salim allow his children to be so burdened; moreover,

whatever measures one attempted with the porters, the other did his best

to thwart. “Men,” say the Persians, “kiss an ass for an object.” I

attempted with Kidogo that sweet speech which, according to Orientals,

is stronger than chains, and administered “goose’s oil” in such

quantities that I was graciously permitted to make an arrangement for

the transport of my companion with the Kirangozi.

On the 14th September, our tempers being sensibly cooled by the weather,

we left the hill-top and broke ground upon the counterslope or landward

descent of the Usagara Mountains. Following a narrow footpath that wound

along the hill-flanks, on red earth growing thick clumps of cactus and

feathery mimosa, after forty-five minutes’ march we found a kraal in a

swampy green gap, bisected by a sluggish rivulet that irrigated scanty

fields of grain, gourds, and water-melons, the property of distant

villagers. For the first time since many days I had strength enough to

muster the porters and to inspect their loads. The outfit, which was

expected to last a year, had been half exhausted in three months. I

summoned Said bin Salim, and passed on to him my anxiety. Like a

veritable Arab, he declared, without the least emotion, that we had

enough to reach Unyanyembe, where we certainly should be joined by the

escort of twenty-two porters. “But how do you know that?” I inquired.

“Allah is all-knowing,” replied Said; “but the caravan _will_ come.”

Such fatalism is infectious. I ceased to think upon the subject.

On the 15th September, after sending forward the luggage, and waiting as

agreed upon for the return of the porters to carry my companion, I set

out about noon, through hot sunshine tempered by the cool hill-breeze.

Emerging from the grassy hollow, the path skirted a well-wooded hill and

traversed a small savannah, overgrown with stunted straw and hedged in

by a bushy forest. At this point massive trees, here single, there in

holts and clumps, foliaged more gloomily than churchyard yews, and

studded with delicate pink-flowers, rose from the tawny sun-burned

expanse around, and defended from the fiery glare braky rings of emerald

shrubbery, sharply defined as if by the forester’s hand. The savannah

extended to the edge of a step which, falling deep and steep, suddenly

disclosed to view, below and far beyond the shaggy ribs and the dark

ravines and folds of the foreground, the plateau of Ugogo and its

Eastern desert. The spectacle was truly impressive. The vault above

seemed “an ample æther,” raised by its exceeding transparency higher

than it is wont to be. Up to the curved rim of the western horizon, lay,

burnished by the rays of a burning sun, plains rippled like a yellow sea

by the wavy reek of the dancing air, broken towards the north by a few

detached cones rising island-like from the surface, and zebra’d with

long black lines, where bush and scrub and strip of thorn jungle,

supplanted upon the watercourses, trending in mazy network southwards to

the Rwaha River, the scorched grass and withered canes-stubbles, which

seemed to be the staple growth of the land. There was nothing of

effeminate or luxuriant beauty, nothing of the flush and fulness

characterising tropical Nature, in this first aspect of Ugogo. It

appeared what it is, stern and wild,--the rough nurse of rugged

men,--and perhaps the anticipation of dangers and difficulties ever

present to the minds of those preparing to endure the waywardness of its

children, contributed not a little to the fascination of the scene.

After lingering for a few minutes upon the crest of the step, with

feelings which they will understand who after some pleasant

months--oases in the grim deserts of Anglo-Indian life--spent among the

tree-clad heights, the breezy lakes, and the turfy valleys of the

Himalayas and the Neilgherries, sight from their last vantage-ground the

jaundiced and fevered plains below, we scrambled down an irregular

incline of glaring red clay and dazzling white chalk, plentifully

besprinkled with dark-olive silex in its cherty crust. Below the descent

was a level space upon a long ridge, where some small villages of

Wasagara had surrounded themselves with dwarf fields of holcus, bajri,

and maize. A little beyond this spot, called the “Third Rubeho,” we

found a comfortless kraal on uneven ground, a sloping ledge sinking

towards a deep ravine.

At the third Rubeho we were delayed for a day--as is customary before a

“Tirikeza”--by the necessity of laying in supplies for a jungle march,

and by the quarrels of the men. The Baloch were cross as naughty

children, ever their case when cold and hungry: warm and full, they

become merry as crickets. The Kirangozi in hot wrath brought his flag to

Said bin Salim, and threatened to resign, because he had been preceded

on the last stage by two of the Baloch: his complaints of this highly

irregular proceeding were with difficulty silenced by force of beads. I

remarked, however, a few days afterwards, when travelling through Ugogo,

that the Kirangozi, considering himself in danger, applied to me for a

vanguard of matchlockmen. The sons of Ramji combined with the porters in

refusing to carry my companion, and had Bombay and Mabruki not shown

good-will, we might have remained a week in the acme of discomfort. The

asses, frightened by wild beasts, broke loose at night, and one was

lost. The atmosphere was ever in excesses of heat and cold: in the

morning, a mist so thick that it displayed a fog-rainbow--a segment of

an arch, composed of faint prismatic tints--rolled like a torrent down

the ravine in front: the sun, at noon, made us cower under the thin

canvas, and throughout the twenty-four hours a gale like a “vent de

bise,” attracted by the heat of the western plains, swept the encamping

ground.

Sending forward my invalid companion in his hammock, I brought up the

rear: Said bin Salim, who had waxed unusually selfish and surly,

furtively left to us the task; he wore only sandals--he could not travel

by night. Some of the Baloch wept at the necessity of carrying their

gourds and skins.

On the 17th September, about 2 P.M., we resumed the descent of the

rugged mountains. The path wound to the N.W. down the stony and bushy

crest of a ridge with a deep woody gap on the right hand: presently

after alternations of steep and step, and platforms patched with

odoriferous plants, it fell into the upper channel of the Mandama or the

Dungomaro, the “Devil’s Glen.” Dungomaro in Kisawahili is the proper

name of an evil spirit, not in the European but in the African

sense,--some unblessed ghost who has made himself unpopular to the

general;--perhaps the term was a facetiousness on the part of the sons

of Ramji.

It was a “via mala” down this great surface-drain of the western slopes,

over boulders and water-rolled stones reposing upon deep sand, and with

branches of thorny trees in places canopying the bed. After a march of

five hours, I found the porters bivouacking upon a softer spot, and with

difficulty persuaded four of the sons of Ramji to return and to assist

the weary stragglers: horns were sounded, and shots were fired to guide

the Baloch, who did not, however, arrive before 10 P.M.

On the 18th September, a final march of four hours placed us in the

plains of Ugogo. Leaving the place of the last night’s bivouac, we

pursued the line of the Dungomaro, occasionally quitting it where

boulders obstructed progress, and presently we came to its lower bed,

where perennial rills, exuding from its earth-walls and trickling down

its side, veiled the bottom with a green and shrubby perfumed

vegetation. As the plain was neared, the difficulties increased, and the

scenery became curious. The Dungomaro appeared a large crevasse in lofty

rocks of pink and gray granite, streaked with white quartz, and

pudding’d with greenstone and black horneblend; the sole, strewed with a

rugged layer of blocks, was side-lined with narrow ledges and terraces

of brown humus, supporting dwarf cactus and stunted thorny trees; whilst

high above towered stony wooded peaks, closing in the view on all sides.

Farther down the bed huge boulders, sunburnt, and stained by the courses

of rain-torrents, rose, perpendicularly as walls, to the height of one

hundred and one hundred and twenty feet, and there the flooring was a

sheet or slide of shiny and shelving rock, with broad fissures, and

steep drops, and cups, “potholes,” baths, and basins, filed and cut by

the friction of the gravelly torrents, regularly as if turned with the

lathe. Where water lay, deep mud and thick clumps of grass and reed

forced the path to run along the ledges at the sides of the base.

Gradually, as the angle of inclination became more obtuse, the bed

widened out, the tall stone-walls gave way to low earth-banks clad with

gum-trees; pits, serving as wells, appeared in the deep loose sand, and

the Dungomaro, becoming a broad, smooth Fiumara, swept away verging

southwards into the plain. Before noon, I sighted from a sharp turn in

the bed our tent pitched under a huge sycomore, on a level step that

bounded the Fiumara to the right. It was a pretty spot in a barren

scene, grassy, and grown with green mimosas, spreading out their

feathery heads like parachutes, and shedding upon the ground a filmy

shade that fluttered and flickered in the draughty breeze.

The only losses experienced during the scrambling descent, were a

gun-case, containing my companion’s store of boots, and a chair and

table. The latter, being indispensable on a journey where calculations,

composition, and sketching were expected, I sent, during the evening

halts, a detachment consisting of Muinyi Wazira, the Baloch, Greybeard

Musa, and a party of slaves, to bring up the articles, which had been

cache’d on the torrent bank. They returned with the horripilatory tale

of the dangers lately incurred by the Expedition, which it appeared from

them had been dogged by an army of Wasagara, thirsting for blood and

furious for booty:--under such circumstances, how could they recover the

chair and table? Some months afterwards an up-caravan commanded by a

Msawahili found the articles lying where we had left them, and delivered

them, for a consideration, to us at Unyanyembe. The party sent from

Ugogo doubtless had passed a quiet, pleasant day, dozing in the shade at

the nearest well.

[Illustration: Maji ya W’heta, or the Jetting Fountain in K’hutu.]