CHAPTER XII.

CAPTAIN SPEKE.

‘Tantus amor veri, nihil est quod noscere malim

Quam fluvii causas per sæcula tanta latentes,

Ignotumque caput.’—LUCAN, x. 189.

I fully recognize the difficulty of writing a chapter with such a

heading. Whatever is spoken will be deemed by some better unspoken;

whilst others would wish me to say much that has been, they will

believe, left unsaid. Those who know me, however, will hardly judge

me capable of setting down ought unfairly, or of yielding, after

such a length of years, to feelings of indignation, however

justifiable they might have been considered in the past. Shortly

after Capt. Speke’s decease I was asked to publish a sketch of his

life and adventures: at that time I had hardly heart for the task.

In beginning this short memoir, I can now repeat the words published

six years ago.[74] ‘Be it distinctly understood that, whilst

differing from Captain Speke upon almost every geographical subject

supposed to be “settled” by his exploration of 1860 to 1863, I do

not stand forth as the enemy of the departed. No man can better

appreciate the noble qualities of energy, courage, and perseverance

which he so eminently possessed, than do I, who knew him for so many

years, and who travelled with him as a brother, before the

unfortunate rivalry respecting the Nile Sources arose like the ghost

of discord between us, and was fanned to a flame by the jealousy and

the ambition of “friends.”’ I claim only the right of telling the

truth and the whole truth, and of speaking as freely of another as I

would be spoken of myself in my own biography. In this chapter I

shall be careful to borrow whatever he chose to publish concerning

his own career, and to supplement it with recollections and

observations of my own.[75]

Capt. Speke (John Hanning) was born on May 4th, 1827, at Orleigh

Court, near Bideford, West England. He was educated at Barnstaple

Grammar School, and he used often to confess, with no little

merriment, his devotion to bird-nesting and his hatred of

‘book-learning.’ This distaste was increased by two ophthalmic

attacks in childhood, which rendered reading a painful task; and in

after life he frequently suffered from snow-blindness when crossing

the Himalayas. At the age of 17 he was sent to India as a cadet, and

in 1841 he was gazetted ensign in the 46th Regiment Bengal N. I.

After the usual monotonous barrack-life, he found himself a

subaltern in the so-called ‘Fighting Brigade’ of General Sir Colin

Campbell, and during the Panjab war he took part in the affairs of,

and obtained the medals for, Ramnagar, Sadullapore, Chillianwala,

and Guzerat. Burning to distinguish himself in action, he was not

favoured by opportunity: on one occasion he was told off with a

detachment to capture a gun; but, to his great disgust, a

counter-order was issued before the attack could be made.

Lieut. Speke had now served five years, and when the campaign ended

he applied himself, with his wonted energy, to make war upon the

fauna and feræ of the Himalayas. A man of lithe, spare form, about

six feet tall, ‘blue-eyed, tawny-maned; the old Scandinavian type,

full of energy and life,’ with a highly nervous temperament, a token

of endurance, and long, wiry, but not muscular limbs, that could

cover the ground at a swinging pace, he became an excellent

mountaineer. His strong nerve and clear head enabled him to cross

the Passes before the melting of the snows allowed them to be called

open, and to travel by break-neck paths, which others were unable to

face: a rival, on one occasion, attempted to precede him, and

brought on a low fever by the horrors of the Col and the Corniche.

He soon proved himself the best East Indian sportsman of each

successive season: that he was a good shot in his youth is shown by

the ‘trophies’ with which he adorned the paternal hall. But, as

Lieut. Herne and I took the first opportunity of ascertaining, he

was by no means remarkable for the ‘use of an unerring rifle,’ when

he appeared at Aden. This often happens in the case of men who have

overtaxed their nervous systems during early life, and who have

unintermittently kept up the practice of dangerous sport: to mention

no others, the late Gordon Cumming and Jules Gérard are notable

instances personally known to me. Those whose tastes lie in

lion-hunting and boar-spearing will do well to give themselves as

much repose as possible between the acts, and to husband their

nerve-strength for great opportunities. A far better walker than a

rider, he prided himself, as often happens, chiefly upon his

equitation.

For five years after the Panjab war Lieut. Speke annually obtained

long leave to cross the Snowy Mountains, and to add to his

collections of the animals little known or unknown, which then

abounded in those glaciers and ice-bound plains. His messmates, with

whom he was ever a favourite, wondered at the facility with which he

escaped the regimental grind of parade and escort duties. He thus

explains the modus operandi, that others may profit by it. ‘The

Commander-in-Chief, Sir William Gomm, observing to what good account

I always turned my leave, instead of idling my time away or running

into debt, took great pleasure in encouraging my hobby; and his

staff were even heard to say it would be a pity if I did not get

leave, as so much good resulted from it.’ I may add that, with the

fine tact which distinguished him, he never allowed his friends to

think themselves neglected, and always returned with rare and

beautiful specimens of Himalayan pheasants, and other admired birds,

for each one who had done him kindness, and thus men forgot to be

jealous. Devoted also to one idea at a time, he eminently possessed

the power of asking: no prospect of a refusal, however harsh,

deterred him from applying for what was required to advance his

views. I was struck by the way in which he wrote to Lieut.-Colonel

Hamerton for supplies and advances, of which the latter had no

power, or rather had not been empowered, to dispose.

Thus Lieut. Speke was the first to penetrate into some of the

remotest corners of Little Thibet: and here, besides indulging his

passion for shooting, collecting, and preserving, he taught himself

geodesy in a rude but highly efficient manner. The Yearly Address

(Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. xxxv.) asserts that

he learned to ‘make astronomical observations.’ This was not the

case. But by watch and sun—to the latter a pocket-compass was

presently preferred—he obtained distance and direction, and his

thorough familiarity with all the topographical features of the

mountains, enabled him to construct route-sketches and field-maps

which, however rough, proved useful to sportsmen and explorers. Some

years of this work, tracing out the courses of streams, crossing

passes and rounding heights, gave him an uncommonly acute ‘eye for

country,’—by no means a usual accomplishment even with the

professional surveyor. As an old ‘agrimensor,’ I well know that

there is no better training for the tyro who can afford the time

than to begin field-work without instruments: the use of the latter

will be learned in a few days, nay, hours; and even the most

experienced prefer, when possible, to go over the ground, and to

form a mental sketch before attempting exact topography. His maps

and plans were never, I believe, published, in consequence of some

difference with the editor, who had delayed printing them.

During his explorations he led the hardest of lives, and he solved

the problem of ‘how to live upon half nothing.’ ‘In the backwoods

and jungles,’ he says, ‘no ceremony or etiquette provokes

unnecessary expenditure, whilst the fewer men and material I took

with me on my sporting excursions the better sport we always got,

and the freer and more independent I was to carry on the chase.’ He

rose with the freezing dawn, walked in the burning sun all day,

breaking his fast upon native bread and wild onions, and he passed

the biting nights in the smallest of ‘rowtie’ tents, often falling

asleep before finishing his food. The latter was of course chiefly

game, and he had acquired a curious taste for the youngest of meat,

preferring it even when unborn. He also attempted to travel

barefooted, but this will almost always prove a failure to men who

have not begun it in early life. His system of living was good: as

the late Lord Palmerston advised, he ate much, drank little, and did

not smoke.

The object of this economy was to carry out a project which he had

matured in 1849, after the expiration of the Panjab campaign. Of his

three years’ furlough he proposed to employ two in collecting

animals whilst marching through Eastern Africa, north of the Line,

with the third to be spent in ease and rest at home. The idea of

‘striking the Nile at its head, and then sailing down that river to

Egypt,’ was altogether an after-thought, and similarly his knowledge

of ‘Ruppell and others’ was the result of far later application. I

well remember at Aden his astonishment at my proposing so improbable

a scheme as marching overland to the Nile sources. But he had seen

in maps the mythical ‘Mountains of the Moon,’ which twenty years ago

used to span Africa from east to west, a huge black caterpillar upon

a white leaf, and he determined that they would ‘in all probability

harbour wild goats and sheep, as the Himalaya range does.’

Lieut. Speke’s tenth year of Indian service was completed on Sept.

3, 1854, and the next day saw him in the Peninsular and Oriental

steamer bound from Calcutta to Aden. I was then at the Coal-Hole of

the East, organizing amongst ‘the treasures and sweetnesses of the

Happy Arabia,’ an expedition to explore, first the Guardafuian Horn,

then the far interior. He brought with him ‘notions’ to the value of

£390, all manner of cheap and useless chow-chow, guns and revolvers,

swords and cutlery, and beads and cloths, which the ‘simple-minded

negro of Africa’ would have rejected with disdain. He began at the

very landing-place with a serious mistake, which might have led to

the worst consequences. Meeting the first mop-headed Somalis who

spoke broken English, he told them his intentions, and he actually

allowed two donkey-boys to become his Abbans—guides and protectors.

Strangers visiting the Eastern Horn must ever be careful to choose

the most powerful of these licensed plunderers: the barbarians hold

strongly to the right of might, and they would delight in stripping

a white man appearing amongst them with an ignoble or an

insufficient escort. On the other hand, the donkey-boys, having been

appointed according to custom, would have claimed the honour and the

profits of the post, and they would have been supported by public

opinion against any Abbans of another tribe.

Making acquaintance with Lieut. Speke, I found with astonishment

that he could speak no Eastern language but a little of the normal

Anglo-Hindostani, and that, without knowing even the names of the

harbour-towns, he proposed to explore one of the most dangerous

parts of Africa. Convinced that if he preceded me his life would be

lost, and that the Somali Expedition would be unable even to set

out, I applied officially to the Political Resident of Aden, the

late Colonel, afterwards Sir James, Outram, of whose ‘generous kind

nature’ and of whose ‘frank and characteristic ardour’ my personal

experience do not permit me to speak with certainty. In his younger

days Colonel Outram had himself proposed to open up the wild regions

opposite Aden. But when he rose to command and its responsibilities,

he ‘considered it his duty as a Christian to prevent, as far as he

was able, anybody from hazarding his life there.’ To a traveller

prepared for a forlorn hope this view of Christian obligations was

by no means consolatory, and I could not help wishing that Colonel

Outram had been able to remember his own feelings of 20 years back.

Thus far, however, he was dans son droit, he held it his duty to

prevent men from destroying themselves, and he should have veto’d

the whole affair.

Presently, however, upon my assuming the fullest responsibility and

giving a written bond for our blood, the Political Resident allowed

me to enrol Lieut. Speke as a member of the Expedition, and thus to

save his furlough by putting him on full service. Colonel Outram

would also have gratified his own generosity, and shifted all onus

from his conscience, by making me alone answerable for the safety of

a Madras officer who had left India expressly to join us. I had,

however, now done enough: common report at Aden declared the thing

to be impossible, and the unfortunate traveller returned

unsuccessful.

Lieut. Speke was uncommonly hard to manage: he owned himself to be a

‘Mastí Bengali’ (bumptious Bengal-man), and having been for years

his own master, he had a way as well as a will of his own. To a

peculiarly quiet and modest aspect—aided by blue eyes and blonde

hair—to a gentleness of demeanour, and an almost childlike

simplicity of manner which at once attracted attention, he united an

immense and abnormal fund of self-esteem, so carefully concealed,

however, that none but his intimates suspected its existence. He

ever held, not only that he had done his best on all occasions, but

also that no man living could do better. These were his own words,

and they are not quoted in a spirit of blame: evidently such is the

temper best suited to the man who would work through the accumulated

difficulties of exploration or of any other exceptional career.

Before we set out he openly declared that being tired of life he had

come to be killed in Africa—not a satisfactory announcement to those

who aspired to something better than the crown of martyrdom. But

when the opportunity came he behaved with prudence as well as

courage. I therefore look upon his earlier confession as a kind of

whimsical affectation, like that which made him, when he returned to

England in 1859, astonish certain of the Browns by speaking a manner

of broken English, as if he had forgotten his vernacular in the

presence of strange tongues.

Finding, even at that early period of acquaintanceship, that he had

a true but uncultivated taste for zoology, and extensive practice in

rude field, mapping, I determined that his part of the work should

be in the highly interesting Eastern Horn of Africa. He accordingly

landed at Bunder Guray, with directions to explore the important

feature, called by Lieut. Cruttenden, I. N., ‘Wady Nogal,’ and to

visit the highlands of the Warsangali and the Dulbahanta tribes, the

most warlike and the least treacherous of the Somal. Meanwhile

Lieutenants Stroyan and Herne remained at Berberah, collecting

information from and watching the annual fair, whilst I proceeded,

more, it must be confessed, for curiosity and for display of

travelling savoir faire, than for other reason, through the Habr

Awal and other most dangerous families of the Somal, to Harar, the

Tinbuktu of Eastern Africa.

I returned to Aden on Feb. 9th, 1855, and was followed about a week

afterwards by Lieut. Speke. He was thoroughly disgusted with his

journey, and he brought back a doleful tale of trouble. He had

adopted, by my advice, a kind of half-eastern dress, as did Colonel

Belly and his officers, when visiting El Riyaz, the head-quarters of

the Wahhabis; and he attributed to this costume all his misfortunes.

He came back, determined that no such feature as the Wady Nogal

existed: yet M. Guillain (ii. 493) saw between Dra Salih and Ra’as

el Khayl, the valley, and its stream debouching upon the coast. He

had recorded his misadventures in a diary whose style, to say

nothing of sentiments and geographical assertions, rendered it, in

my opinion, unfit for publication, and I took the trouble of

re-writing the whole. Published as an Appendix to ‘First Footsteps

in East Africa,’ it was in the third person, without the least

intention of giving offence, but simply because I did not wish to

palm upon the reader my own composition as that of another person.

Unhappily, however, an article from a well-known pen appeared in

Blackwood (p. 499, October, 1856), and contained these words:—

‘A resumé of Mr Speke’s observations is appended to Mr Burton’s

book, but it lacks the interest of a personal narrative; and we much

regret that the experiences of one whose extensive wanderings had

already so well qualified him for the task, and who has shown

himself so able an explorer, should not have been chronicled at a

greater length, and thrown into a form which would have rendered

them more interesting to the general reader.’

This brand was not foolishly thrown: it kindled a fire which did not

consume the less fiercely because it was smothered. Some two years

afterwards, when in the heart of Africa, and half delirious with

fever, my companion let fall certain expressions which, to my

infinite surprise, showed that he had been nursing three great

grievances. The front of the offence was that his Diary had been

spoiled. Secondly, he felt injured because he had derived no profit

from a publication which had not proved ‘paying’ to me. Thirdly, he

was hurt because I had forwarded to the Calcutta Museum of Natural

History, as expressly bound by my instructions, his collection, of

which he might easily have kept duplicates. My companion had a

peculiarity more rarely noticed in the Englishman than in the

Hibernian and in the Teuton—a habit of secreting thoughts and

reminiscences till brought to light by a sudden impulse. He would

brood, perhaps for years, over a chance word, which a single

outspoken sentence of explanation could have satisfactorily settled.

The inevitable result was the exaggeration of fact into fiction, the

distortion of the true to the false. Let any man, after long musing

about, or frequent repetition of, a story or an adventure, consult

his original notes upon the matter, and if they do not startle him,

I shall hold him to be an exception. And if he keep no journal, and

be withal somewhat hard of persuasion, he will firmly hold, in all

honour and honesty, to the latest version, modified by lapse of

time. I made this remark more than once to my companion, and he

received it with an utter incredulity which clearly proved to me

that his was a case in point.

The next adventure was a savage melée at Berberah, on April 19th,

1855, when we were attacked by Somali plunderers. Here again I

unwittingly offended Lieut. Speke’s susceptibilities by saying in

the thick of the fight, ‘Don’t step back, or they’ll think we are

running!’ As usual, I was never allowed to know that he was

‘chagrined by this rebuke at his management’ till his own account of

the mishap appeared before the public. The story, as he tells it,

reads very differently from his written report still in my

possession, and he gives the world to understand that he alone of

the force had attempted to defend the camp. The fact is, he had lost

his head, and instead of following me when cutting my way through

the enemy, he rushed about, dealing blows with the butt of an

unloaded revolver. His courage was of that cool order which

characterizes the English rather than the French soldier. The

former, constitutionally strong-nerved and self-reliant, goes into

action reckless of what may happen, and unprepared for extremes:

when he ‘gets more than he bargains for’ he is apt, like

unimaginative men generally, to become demoralized. The Frenchman,

with a weaker organization, prepares himself to expect the worst;

and when the worst comes, he finds it, perhaps, not so bad as he

expected.

Lieut. Speke escaped as by a miracle, and recovered as wonderfully

from eleven spear-wounds, one of which was clean through the thigh.

Returning to England, we both volunteered for the Crimean campaign;

and he found his way to the Turkish Contingent, I to the Bashi

Buzuks. When peace was concluded he agreed to explore, in company

with Capt. Smyth, of the Bengal Army, Circassia and other parts of

Central Asia. We met, however, in London, and he at once proposed to

dismiss his new plans for another African expedition.

The reader has seen, in the earlier chapters of this book, the

troubles attending our departure, and the obstacles opposed by the

Court of Directors to Lieut. Speke again becoming my companion; it

has also been explained how the difficulties were removed. My

companion did not, however, ‘take kindly’ to the Second Expedition.

Even at the beginning of our long absence from civilized life I

could not but perceive that his former alacrity had vanished: he was

habitually discontented with what was done; he left to me the whole

work of management, and then he complained of not being consulted.

He had violent quarrels with the Baloch, and on one occasion the

Jemadar returned to him an insult which, if we had not wanted the

man, he would have noticed with a sword-cut. Unaccustomed to

sickness, he could not endure it himself nor feel for it in others;

and he seemed to enjoy pleasure in saying unpleasant things—an

Anglo-Indian peculiarity. Much of the change he explained to me by

confessing that he could not take interest in an exploration of

which he was not the commander. On the other hand, he taught himself

the use of the sextant and other instruments, with a resolution and

a pertinacity which formed his characteristic merits. Night after

night, at the end of the burning march, he sat for hours in the

chilling dews, practising lunars and timing chronometers. I have

acknowledged in becoming terms, it is hoped, the value of these

labours, and the benefit derived from them by the Expedition. The

few books—Shakespere, Euclid, and so forth—which composed my scanty

library, we read together again and again: he learned from me to

sketch the scenery, and he practised writing a diary and accounts of

adventure, which he used to bring for correction. These

reminiscences forcibly suggest to me the Arab couplet—

علمته الرمايه كليوم

فلمّا امشتدّ ساعده رمانى

‘I taught him archery day by day—

When his arm waxed strong, ’twas me he shot.’

The discovery of the water which he called Victoria Nyanza formed, I

have said, the point whence our paths diverged. He was convinced

that he had found ‘the Nile Source,’ and he was determined to work

out that problem in the position which he thought himself best

fitted to hold, that of leader. Arrived at Zanzibar, he fell into

bad hands, and being, like most ambitious men, very apt to consider

himself neglected and ill-treated until crowned by success, he was

easily made sore upon the point of merits not duly recognized. He

showed a nervous hurry to hasten home, although we found upon the

Island that our leave had been prolonged by the Bombay Government.

Reaching Aden, we were housed for a few days by my old and tried

friend, the late Dr Steinhaeuser, who repeatedly warned me that all

was not right. On Monday, April 18th, arrived H. M.’s ship Furious,

Captain Sherard Osborne, carrying the late Lord Elgin and his

secretary, the supposed author of the review in Blackwood. We were

kindly invited to take passage on board: my companion’s sick

certificate was en règle, whilst mine was not, and he left Aden in

such haste that he did not take leave of his host. Still we were, to

all appearance, friends.

Before parting with me, Capt. Speke voluntarily promised, when

reaching England, to visit his family in the country, and to await

my arrival, that we might appear together before the Royal

Geographical Society. But on board the Furious he was exposed to the

worst influences, and he was persuaded to act in a manner which his

own moral sense must have afterwards strongly condemned, if indeed

it ever pardoned it. From Cairo he wrote me a long letter,

reiterating his engagement, and urging me to take all the time and

rest that broken health required. Yet, hardly had he reached London

before he appeared at Whitehall Place to give his own views of

important points still under discussion. Those were the days when

the Society in question could not afford to lack its annual lion,

whose roar was chiefly to please the ladies and to push the

institution. Despite the palpable injustice thus done to the

organizer and leader of the expedition, Capt. Speke was officially

directed—‘much against his own inclination,’ he declared—to lecture

in Burlington House. The President ‘seized the enlightened view that

such a discovery should not be lost to the glory of England,’ and

came at once to the conclusion, ‘Speke, we must send you there

again.’ Finally, a council assembled to ascertain what were the

projects of the volunteer leader, and what assistance he would

require, in order to ‘make good his discovery by connecting the Lake

with the Nile.’ They ended their labours by recommending the most

liberal preparations—a remarkable contrast to those of the first

expedition.[76]

I reached London on May 21st, and found that everything had been

done for, or rather against, me. My companion now stood forth in his

true colours, an angry rival. He had doubtless been taught that the

expedition had owed to him all its success: he had learned to feel

aggrieved, and the usual mental alchemy permuted to an offence every

friendly effort which I had made in his favour. No one is so

unforgiving, I need hardly say, as the man who injures another. A

college friend (Alfred B. Richards) thus correctly defined my

position, ‘Burton, shaken to the backbone by fever, disgusted,

desponding, and left behind both in the spirit and in the flesh,

was, in racing parlance, “nowhere.”’

Presently appeared two papers in Blackwood’s Magazine (Sept.-Oct.,

1859), which opened a broad breach between my late companion and

myself. They contained futilities which all readers could detect. A

horseshoe, or Chancellor’s wig, some 6000 feet high and 180 miles in

depth, was prolonged beyond the equator and gravely named ‘Mountains

of the Moon.’ The Nyanza water, driven some 120 miles further north

than when originally laid down from Arab information, stultified one

of the most important parts of our labours. Nor did I see why my

companion should proceed to apply without consultation such names as

‘Speke Channel’ and ‘Burton Point’ to features which we had explored

together.

It was no ‘petty point of explorer’s etiquette,’ as some reviewer

generously put the case, which made me resent the premature

publication of Capt. Speke’s papers: though the many-headed may

think little of such matters, a man who has risked his life for a

great discovery cannot sit tamely to see it nullified. My views also

about retaining native nomenclature have ever been fixed, and of the

strongest: I still hold, with the late venerable Mr Macqueen,

‘Nothing can be so absurd as to impose English names on any part,

but especially upon places in the remote interior parts of Africa.

This is, we believe, done by no other nation. What nonsense it is

calling a part of Lake Nyanza the Bengal Archipelago; a stagnant

puddle, with water in it only during the rains, or where the lake

overflows, the Jordans, a name never heard of in geography’ (The

Nile Basin, pp. 109, 110).

Such a breach once made is easily widened. My companion wrote and

spoke to mutual acquaintances in petulant and provoking terms, which

rendered even recognition impossible. They justified me, I then

thought, in publishing the Lake Regions of Central Africa, where,

smarting under injury, my story was told. After the lapse of a

decade, when a man of sense can sit in judgment upon his younger

self, it is evident to me that much might have been omitted, and

that more might have been modified, yet I find nothing in it unfair,

unreasonable, or in any way unfaithful. Many opined that the more

dignified proceeding would have been to ignore the injuries done to

me. But the example of my old commander, Sir Charles Napier (the

soldier), taught me in early life how unwise it is to let public

sentence be passed by default, and that even delay in disputing

unqualified assertions may in some cases be fraught with lasting

evil.

Capt. Speke succeeded, as the world knows, in organizing a second

expedition upon the plan of the first: it lasted between Sept. 25,

1860, and April, 1863, when he telegram’d to Alexandria, ‘The Nile

is settled.’ I would in no way depreciate the solid services

rendered to geography by him and by his gallant and amiable

companion, Capt. Grant. They brought in an absolute gain of some 350

geographical miles between S. lat. 3° and N. lat. 3°, an equatorial

belt, vaguely known only by Arab report and concerning which, with

the hardest labour, I could collect only the heads of information.

But they left unsolved the moot question of the Nile sources, and

indeed it soon became the opinion of scientific Europe that during

the two and a half years, ending with April, 1863, the Nile Basin

had been invested with an amount of fable unknown to the days of

Ptolemy.

Presently after Capt. Speke’s triumphant return appeared the volumes

upon the ‘Discovery of the Source of the Nile,’ and upon ‘What led

to the Discovery.’ His brilliant march led me to express, despite

all the differences which had sprung up between us, the most

favourable opinion of his leadership, and indirect messages passed

between us suggesting the possibility of a better understanding.

Again, however, either old fancied injuries still rankled in his

heart or he could not forgive the man he had injured—odisse quem

læseris—or, which is most probable, the malignant tongues of

‘friends’ urged him on to a renewal of hostilities, and the way to

reconciliation was for ever barred. This was the more unhappy as he

had greatly improved under the influence of a noble ambition justly

satisfied, and all his friends were agreed that success had drawn

out the best points of his character.

The volumes did much to injure Capt. Speke’s reputation as a

traveller. It would be vain to comment upon the extreme looseness of

the geography: one instance suffices, the ‘great backwater Luta

Nzige.’ The anthropology and ethnology are marvellous: what can be

said of his identifying the Watuta with the Zulu, and the Zangian

Wahuma with the ‘Semi-Shem-Hamitic’ race of Æthiopia or with the

Gallas, the most Semitic of the N. East African tribes? What can we

make of ‘our poor elder brother Ham?’ What can ruddy King David have

had to do with the black Chief Rumanika? The explanation is that the

author’s mind, incurious about small matters, could not grasp, and

did not see the importance of grasping, a fact, and his vagueness of

thought necessarily extended to his language. Else how account for

his ‘partial eclipse of the moon happens on the fifth _and_ sixth of

January, 1863’ (Journal p. 243)? if _and_ be a misprint for _or_,

why had he not consulted the newest almanac? Nor did he know the use

of words. A mass of foul huts is ‘a village built on the most

luxurious principles,’ and a petty chief is a ‘King of kings;’

whilst a ‘splendid court’ means a display of mere savagery, and the

‘French of those parts’ are barbarians somewhat livelier than their

neighbours. ‘Nelson’s Monument at Charing Cross’ is a specimen of

what we may expect from Central Africa.

Not less curious is the awkward, scatter of Scriptural quotations

and allusions that floats upon the surface of his volumes. It looks

as though some friend had assured the author that his work would not

‘go down’ without a little of what is popularly called ‘hashed

Bible;’ and that the result had been the recommendation of

missionary establishments at the Nile sources. I am assured,

however, that before the end of his life Capt. Speke had greatly

changed his previous opinions. When travelling with me he used to

ignore ‘overruling Providence or a future state’ in a style whose

unstudied conviction somewhat surprised me.

Returning to England from Fernando Po, West Africa, I attended at

Bath the British Association for September, 1864. The date for the

discussion about the Nile Sources, and the claims of the Lake

Tanganyika, and a N. Eastern water then unnamed, versus the

‘Victoria Nyanza,’ was fixed on Sept. 16. On the previous day I

passed my quondam companion as he sat on the President’s right hand,

and I could not but remark the immense change of feature, of

expression, and of general appearance which his severe labours,

complicated perhaps by deafness and dimness of sight, had wrought in

him. We looked at each other of course without signs of recognition.

Some one beckoned to him from the bottom of the hall. At 1.30 P. M.

he arose, and ejaculating, ‘I can’t stand this any longer!’ he left

the room. Three hours afterwards he was a corpse.

Early in the forenoon fixed for what silly tongues called the ‘Nile

Duel’ I found a large assembly in the rooms of section E. A note was

handed round in silence. Presently my friend Mr Findlay broke the

tidings to me. Capt. Speke had lost his life on the yesterday, at 4

P. M., whilst shooting over a cousin’s grounds. He had been missed

in the field, and his kinsman found him lying upon the earth, shot

through the body close to the heart. He lived only a few minutes,

and his last words were a request not to be moved. The calamity had

been the more unexpected as he was ever remarkable for the caution

with which he handled his weapon. I ever make a point of

ascertaining a fellow-traveller’s habits in that matter, and I

observed that even when our canoe was shaken and upthrown by the

hippopotamus he never allowed his gun to look at him or at others.

Thus perished, in the flower of his years, at the early age of 37,

by the merest and most unaccountable accident, an explorer of whom

England had reason to be proud, and whose memory will not readily

pass away. His sudden decease recalls to mind that of James Bruce of

the Blue River, who, after a life of hazard and of dangerous

enterprise, perished by the slipping of his foot: unlike the

Abyssinian explorer, however, Capt. Speke was not fated to extend

his sphere of usefulness or to enjoy the fruits of his labours. With

the active and intrepid energy, with the unusual temper, patience,

and single-mindedness, with the earnest and indomitable pertinacity,

and with the almost heroic determination, which he brought to bear

upon everything that he attempted, the achievements of Capt. Speke’s

later life would doubtless, had his career run out its time, have

thrown into the shade the exploits of his youth.

* * * * *

I will end this chapter—and volume—with a few stanzas written by my

wife, who shall be allowed to tell her own tale.

‘The following lines were suggested to me in the studio of the late

Mr Edgar George Papworth, of 36, Milton Street, Dorset Square,

during the winter of 1864-5.

‘Captain Burton had recently returned from Africa. The annual

meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science

had just taken place at Bath, and poor Captain Speke’s sudden death

was still fresh in our memories. We had been invited by the artist

to look at Captain Speke’s bust, upon which he was then employed. Mr

Papworth said to Captain Burton, “I only took the cast after death,

and never knew him alive; but you who lived with him so long can

surely give me some hints.” Captain Burton, who had learnt something

of sculpturing when a boy in Italy, took the sculptor’s pencil from

Mr Papworth’s hand, and with a few touches here and there made a

perfect likeness and expression. As I stood by, I was very much

impressed by this singular coincidence.’

A MOULDED mask at my feet I found,

With the drawn-down mouth and the deepen’d eye,

More lifeless still than the marbles ’round—

Very death amid dead life’s mimicry;

I raised it, and Thought fled afar from me

To the Afric land by the Zingian Sea.

’Twas a face, a shell, that had nought of brain,

And th’ imbedding chalk showed a yellow thread

Which struck my glance with a sudden pain,

For this seemed ’live when the rest was dead;

And poor bygone raillery came to mind

Of the tragic masque and no head behind.

But behind there lay in the humblest shrine

A gem of the brightest, purest ray:

The gem was the human will divine;

The shrine was the homeliest human clay.

Self-glory—but hush! be the tale untold

To the pale ear thinned by yon plaster mould.

Shall the diamond gem lose her queenly worth,

Though pent in the dungeon of sandy stone?

Say, is gold less gold, though in vilest earth

For long years it has lurked unprized, unknown?

And the rose that blooms o’er the buried dead,

Hath its pinkness paled, hath its fragrance fled?

Thus the poet sang, ‘Is the basil vile,

Though the beetle’s foot o’er the basil crawl?’

And though Arachne hath webbed her toil,

Shall disgrace attach to the princely hall?

And the pearl’s clear drop from the oyster-shell,

Comes it not on the royal brow to dwell?

On the Guarded Tablet was writ by Fate,

A double self for each man ere born,

Who shall love his love and shall hate his hate,

Who shall praise his praise and shall scorn his scorn,

Enduring, aye to the bitter end,

And man’s other man shall be called a friend.

When the Spirits with radiance nude arrayed

In the presence stood of the One Supreme,

Soul looked unto soul, and the glance conveyed

A pledge of love which each _must_ redeem;

Nor may spirit enfleshed in the dust, forget

That high trysting-place, ere Time was not yet.

When the first great Sire, so the Legends say,

The four-rivered garden in Asia trod,

And ’neath perfumed shade, in the drouth of day,

Walked and talked with the Hebrew God,

Such friendship was as it first began;

And the first of friends were the God, the Man.

But _we_ twain were not bound by such highborn ties;

Our souls, our minds, and our thoughts were strange,

Our ways were not one, nor our sympathies,

We had severed aims, we had diverse range;

In the stern drear Present his lot was cast,

While I hoped for the Future and loved the Past.

’Twixt man and woman use oft hath bred

The habits that feebly affection feign,

While the common board and the genial bed

And Time’s welding force links a length of chain;

Till, where Love was not, it hath sometimes proved

This has loved and lived, that has lived and loved.

But ’twixt man and man it may not so hap;

Each man is his own and his proper sphere;

At some point, perchance, may the lines o’erlap;

The far rest is far as the near is near—

Save when the orbs are of friend and friend

And the circles’ limits perforce must blend.

But the one sole point at which he and I

Could touch, was the contact of vulgar minds;

’Twas interest’s forcible, feeble tie,

Which binds, but with lasting bonds ne’er binds;

And our objects fated to disagree,

What way went I, and what way went he?

Yet were we comrades for years and years,

And endured in its troth our companionship

Through a life of chances, of hopes, and fears;

Nor a word of harshness e’er passed the lip,

Nor a thought unkind dwelt in either heart,

Till we chanced—by what chance did it hap?—to part.

Where Fever, yellow-skinned, bony, gaunt,

With the long blue nails and lip livid white;

With the blood-stain’d orbs that could ever haunt

Our brains by day and our eyes by night;

In her grave-clothes mouldy with graveyard taint

Came around our sleeping mats—came and went:

Where the crocodile glared with malignant stare,

And the horse of the river, with watery mane

That flash’d in the sun, from his oozy lair

Rose to gaze on the white and wondrous men;

And the lion, with muzzle bent low to earth,

Mock’d the thunder-cloud with his cruel mirth:

Where the speckled fowls the Mimosa decked

Like blue-bells studded with opal dew;

And giraffes, pard-spotted, deer-eyed, swan-necked,

Browsed down the base whence the tree-dome grew:

And the sentinel-antelope, aëried high,

With his frighten’d bound taught his friends to fly:

Where the lovely Coast is all rank with death,

That basks in the sun of the Zingian shore;

Where the mountains, dank with the ocean’s breath,

Bear the incense-tree and the sycamore;

Where the grim fierce desert and stony hill

Breed the fiercest beasts, and men fiercer still:

Where the land of the Moon, with all blessings blest

Save one—save man—and with name that sped

To the farthest edge of the misty West

Since the Tyrian sailor his sail-sheet spread,

Loves to gaze on her planet whose loving ray

Fills her dells and fells with a rival day:

Where the Lake unnamed in the Afric wold

Its breast to the stranger eye lay bare;

Where Isis, forced her veil to unfold—

To forget the boast of the days that were—

Stood in dusky charms with the crisp tire crowned,

On the hallowed bourne, on the Nile’s last bound:

We toiled side by side, for the hope was sweet

To engrave our names on the Rock of Time;

On the Holy Hill to implant our feet

Where enfaned sits Fame o’er the earth sublime;

And now rose the temple before our eyes,

We had paid the price, we had plucked the prize;

When up stood the Shadow betwixt us twain—

Had the dusky goddess bequeathed her ban?—

And the ice of death through every vein

Of comradeship spread in briefest span;

The guerdon our toils and our pains had won,

Was too great for two, was enough for one;

And deeper and deeper grew the gloom

When the serpent tongue had power to sting,

While o’er one of us hung the untimely doom,

A winter’s night to a day of spring;

And heart from heart parting fell away

At the fiat of Fate by her iron sway.

It seems as though from a foamy[77] dream

I awake, and this pallid mask behold,

And I ask—Can this be the end supreme

Of the countless things of the days of old?

This clay, is it all of what used to be

In the Afric land by the Zingian Sea?

ISABEL BURTON.

-----

Footnote 74:

The Nile Basin. Tinsleys, 1864.

Footnote 75:

Introduction to ‘What led to the Discovery of the Sources of the

Nile.’ Blackwoods, 1864.

Footnote 76:

‘This fine undertaking was most inadequately subsidized: only

£1000 was supplied by the Government, through the Society—£750 at

the outset, and £250 on their return. The rest of the total cost,

£2500, was defrayed jointly by the travellers themselves’ (Mr

Findlay, loc. cit., speaking of the East African Expedition of

1856 to 1859). The Treasury, in 1860, contributed £2500, a sum

which, with the experience gained during the first expedition, was

amply sufficient.

Footnote 77:

Träume sind Schäume.

APPENDIX I.

NOTES ON COMMERCIAL MATTERS AT ZANZIBAR IN

THE YEARS 1857-1859.

There was a great dearth of small change on the Island, and until A.

D. 1849 broken sums were paid in Mtama or holcus grain, of which

exceedingly variable measures constituted the dollar. The system

reminds us of the Mexican cacao money and the almonds of British

India. When Capt. Guillain (iii. 376-398) says ‘il existe aux Kiloua

une monnaie de compte, nommée Doti,’ he confounds metallic specie

with the African substitute of cotton cloth, the Doti, as will

appear, measuring 8 cubits = 12 feet, more or less. ‘Shroffing’ was

in early days a profitable trade: the Kojahs and Banyans offered the

ruler, in later years, a considerable annual sum if he would retain

the primitive currency. This infancy of the circulating system

endured till 1840, when Sayyid Said imported from Bombay through H.

B. M.’s consul some $5000 worth of the small copper coin called

pice. Here there are no mints, of which some 16 exist at

Maskat—private shops to which any man can carry his silver, see it

broken up, and pay for the coining whatever the workmen may charge.

At first 132 and even 133 pice were the change for a German crown:

presently the shroffs, by buying up the copper, raised its value to

98. The discount (34 pice, or more than a quarter) of the salaries

paid by the H. E. I. Company at Zanzibar became so great that the

minor officials of the Consulate required an increase. When I landed

at Zanzibar the German crown fetched in the bazar from 107 to 108

pice; in parts of the mainland where it was accepted, from 112 to

130. This fluctuating state of things was very properly put down

with a high hand by Sayyid Majid, who ordered 128 pice to be the

legal equivalent of a German crown, assuming it here as in India as

equal to two Company’s rupees (1 rupee = 16 annas × 4 pice = 64 pice

× 2 = 128 pice). In these lands he who holds the balance of justice

must make things find their own level; however hazardous may be the

interference with trade, it is sometimes necessary amongst

barbarians to prevent it cutting its own throat.

The following statement of our losses at Bombay or Zanzibar may be

useful to future travellers who are advised to bring out direct

bills to H. B. M.’s Consulate. Here they must buy, despite high

prices and roguery, cloth and wires, beads and cattle, or they run

the risk of carrying useless stock. A letter of credit from a London

banker for £500, payable at Bombay, realized only Co.’s rs 4720, the

rate of exchange happening to be low. The value of 100 German crowns

at Zanzibar then ranging between Co.’s rs 214 and 220, our letter of

credit for Co.’s rs 4720 brought $2205. Thus assuming the rupee at

2_s._ and the dollar at 4_s._ (it is worth about 2_d._ more), our

loss upon £500 amounted to £87.

Bills on England are generally purchaseable at a fair rate: until

lately $5 have been paid for the pound sterling, and the exchange is

now about $4.75. Nothing of the kind, however, is permanent at

Zanzibar; there is no regular market, and the only rule is manfully

to take the best advantage of a neighbour’s necessities.

Usury, made unlawful by the Saving Faith, flourishes as in all the

commercial centres of Islam. Foreign houses doing business at

Zanzibar cannot afford to part with the ready money requisite to

secure their regular and highly-profitable returns of trade. They

therefore borrow at 6 to 9 per cent. large sums from the principal

Arabs and Wasawahili; when lending they refuse less than 33 per

cent. upon the best security, and I have heard of cases in which 40

per cent.—deducted also from the capital—was demanded. Amongst

natives moneys advanced on landed security or bottomry bear interest

of 15-20 per cent. per annum, and pious Shylock salves his

conscience by the sale of an egg or a cucumber. As in Somaliland,

Banyans and large traders advance small ventures of goods, such as a

bale of cloth to the retail vendor, who during the season barters it

upon the coast and in the interior for slaves and ivory, hide,

copal, and grain. In these transactions the interest is enormous;

consequently the merchant rolls in dollars, and the tradesman

manages only to live.

The insurance of vessels is here, as in most parts of the East, a

gambling transaction; barratry cannot be guarded against, and all

manner of fraud is successfully practised. Kojahs and Banyans

underwrite, working upon two systems—‘Fáliserí,’ a corruption of our

‘policy,’ because a regular agreement is written out; and ‘Patán

Sulámat,’ (the safety of the keel); in the latter nothing can be

claimed unless there be a total loss. It is, however, the popular

form: when a vessel has been built and not paid for, or when money

is wanted to finish her, the creditor insists upon Patán Salámat

before she goes to sea. I may here add, that refitting at Zanzibar,

as at Mauritius, is exorbitant: a spar worth $15 to $20 will be

charged $350 to $370.

Between Sept. 16, 1832, and May 26, 1834, the arrivals of

square-rigged vessels were 41 with 7559 tons. Dr Ruschenberger gives

the items as follows: United States, 32 (5497 tons), including 4

whalers, and of these 20 were from Salim; English, 7 (1403), French,

1 (340), and Spanish, 1 (319).

Between 1852 and 1857 the Island was visited by a greatly increased

number, as is shown by the following table.

──────────────┬────┬──────┬────┬──────┬────┬──────┬────┬──────┬────┬──────

│’52.│ TONS.│’53.│ TONS.│’54.│ TONS.│’55.│ TONS.│’56.│ TONS.

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

American(U.S.)│ 36│ 9,187│ 30│ 7,519│ 36│ 9,901│ 28│ 9,142│ 24│ 7,215

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

English │ 6│ 1,627│ 3│ 587│ 2│ 1,300│ 5│ 1,609│ 3│ 1,517

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Hamburg │ 10│ 2,386│ 14│ 3,504│ 15│ 3,981│ 15│ 3,698│ 20│ 5,438

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

French │ 14│ 4,522│ 18│ 7,452│ 18│ 6,598│ 13│ 5,523│ 23│10,579

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Arab │ 5│ 2,110│ 9│ 4,278│ 5│ 2,113│ 3│ 1,448│ 12│ 3,938

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Spanish │ 3│ 624│ 1│ 200│ │ 460│ 2│ 460│ 2│ 460

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Portuguese │ │ │ 1│ 215│ 2│ 338│ │ │ 3│ 930

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Hanoverian │ │ │ │ │ 1│ 220│ │ │ │

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Prussian │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 1│ 600

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

Danish │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ │ 1│ 450

──────────────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────┼────┼──────

TOTAL │ 74│20,456│ 76│23,265│ 81│24,911│ 66│21,871│ 89│31,127

│ │ │ │ │ 79?│ │ │21,880│ │

Thus in five years the tonnage show an increase of 10,671. The

French ships, however, whose arrivals have greatly increased, mostly

came out in ballast, and loaded with sesamum, cocoa-meat, and

cloves. Moreover, it became the custom to enter the ship twice: if,

for instance, she visited the coast after touching at the Island,

she appeared a second time upon the lists after her return. Thus,

whilst the tonnage was greatly advanced, exportation did not keep

pace with it.

In 1858 the returns of merchant shipping arrivals at the port of

Zanzibar showed 89 of all nationalities, with 26,959 tons. In the

next year this total fell off, owing to the cholera and political

troubles, to 80 bottoms, with 23,340 tons. In 1861-2 the commerce

was carried on by 55 ships, and 23 men-of-war visited or revisited

the Island. In 1862-3 there were 57 trading vessels and 31 cruisers

(Commercial Reports recorded at the Foreign Office from H. B. M.’s

consuls).

I found it impracticable to obtain any information concerning the

average or the total value of native cargoes.

Zanzibar being the general depôt for this portion of the African

coast, shows a list of exports contrasting greatly with its

industry. The staple productions of the Island are the cocoa-nut and

cloves—of these details have been given in the preceding pages. The

produce of the coast is contained in slaves, in copal, and in ivory

of the finest description, hides and cowries, rafters and red

pepper, ambergris and beeswax, hippopotamus’ teeth, and rhinoceros’

horn. In 1859 the export of ivory amounted to 488,600 lbs. (value

£146,666); of copal to 875,875 lbs. (value £37,166); and of cloves

to 4,860,100 lbs. (value £55,666). These figures are taken from the

commercial reports of H. B. M.’s consuls, and are probably much

understated. I have already mentioned most of the main items of

exports. The following details will complete the list, and for

further information I may refer the reader to Appendix No. I.

(Commerce, Imports and Exports), the Lake Regions of Central Africa.

Beeswax is produced in small quantities upon the Island; the slaves,

however, will not allow the hives to remain unplundered—they devour

the contents, wax and all. It is also brought from the Chole islet

and from the mainland: here, as in Abyssinia and Harar, hives are

hung to the tall trees about the villages. The produce is like our

‘virgin honey,’ oily, but very impure: it greatly differs in taste;

some of it is excellent, other kinds are almost flavourless. Upon

the coast there is a dark and exceedingly sweet variety often found

with the small bee smothered in it: the people declare that a

spoonful of it will cause intoxication, like the celebrated produce

of Asia Minor.

Hippopotamus’ teeth in 1857 were still sent to Europe and to Bombay,

principally for making sword hilts and knife handles: in America

porcelain was supplanting them at the dentists’. Rhinoceros’ horns,

mentioned in the Periplus about Rhapta (chap. xvii.), were exported

to Arabia and Central Asia. Hides and skins, chiefly of bullocks and

goats, with spoils of the wild cattle, the zebra and the antelope,

were brought for exportation from the Northern coast. Ivory was,

after slaves, the only produce for which caravans visited the far

interior, and both articles, which the expense of free porterage

rendered inseparable, were sold to retail dealers on the coast.

Sometimes it was dragged over the ground protected by grass and

matting, with cords made fast to holes bored in the bamboo or hollow

base fitting into the alveolar process. The best in the market was

held to be the fine heavy material brought down from Ugogo by the

Wanyamwezi porters, who, on their long journey, collect ivories of

many different kinds. These are rufous outside, and abnormally

heavy—a tusk apparently of 60 lbs. will weigh in the scales 70. The

duty varies according to the district which supplies it: for

instance, that of Unyamwezi is charged $14 for 36 lbs.; Mombasah,

Lamu, and Kilwa, $4; the Pangani and Tanga countries $8, and

Somaliland only $2. In the African animal the female’s tusk is often

longer and thicker than in the long-legged variety of India and

Ceylon. At the Cape of Good Hope, where the land is poor, the

elephant may reach twelve feet, whilst northwards, where forage

abounds, the average is three feet shorter, whilst the tusks are,

according to travellers, much bulkier than in the taller beast. This

may be explained by the more regular development of the defences

where the animal is undisturbed by man. Ivory grows as long as its

owner grows. At Zanzibar they declare that the animal which bears

monster tusks is not, as might be expected, of mammoth stature: it

is a moderate-sized beast, high in the forehand, and sloping away

behind, like a hyæna. We have found it necessary to preserve our

elephants in Ceylon, but in Africa the grounds extend from N. lat.

10° to S. lat. 25°, and clean across the Continent. There is no

present fear of the market wanting supply: the annual deaths of over

100,000 would be a mere trifle considering the extent of country

over which the herds roam.

Zanzibar exports her produce to the four quarters of the world as

follows:

Europe and the United States take cocoa, Kopra (dried meat of the

nut), cocoa-nut oil, and orchilla; copal, ivory, cloves and stems,

hippopotamus’ teeth, tortoise-shell, and a little ambergris;

cowries, hides, goat-skins, horns, gums, beeswax, and valuable woods

in small quantities. The exports to France are chiefly sesamum and

Kopra. There is no direct trade with Great Britain. Vessels from the

United States usually touch, before going home, at Aden and Maskat,

where they fill up with coffee and dates. India demands chiefly

ivory, copal, and cloves; she also buys hippopotamus’ tusks,

rhinoceros’ horns, cocoa-nuts, beeswax, tabkir or snuff, arrow-root,

gums, and Zanzibar rafters. It is asserted in a journal of the R.

Geographical Society (vol. xii., March, 1856) that Zanzibar Island

and Coast have an annual export and import trade of £300,000 with

Western, and of £150,000 with Eastern India. Arabia takes the same

articles as Hindostan. Madagascar prefers British and foreign

manufactured goods and coarse Bombay earthenware, flowered basins,

and similar goods. This trade was declining in 1857, and vessels

were not allowed to enter any of the ports. The Mrima or African

coast requires American domestics, indigo-dyed cloths, cotton

checks, common broad-cloths (especially crimson), Indian and Maskat

stuffs, Surat and other caps, china and iron wares, brass chains,

and brass and iron wires (Nos. 7 and 8). It also imports Venetian

beads, a very delicate article of trade, each district having its

own peculiar variety; subject also to perpetual change, and refusing

to take any of the 400 kinds except those in fashion. Finally, a

dangerous commerce, and highly disadvantageous to the white race,

was carried on in arms and ammunition: coarse gunpowder was supplied

in kegs; and one European house exported, it is said, in a single

year 13,000 muskets, thus overdoing the trade. The weapon must have

a black butt, and an elephant on the lock, otherwise it is hardly

saleable; moreover, the price should not exceed three to four

shillings. The old Tower musket was a prime favourite.

The following is a summary of the exports from the port of Zanzibar

in 1859, when the East African Expedition left the coast.

─────────────────────────┬───────────────────┬────────────────

Exported to │ Local Money. │ English Money.

─────────────────────────┼───────────────────┼────────────────

│ German Crowns. │ £ S. D.

─────────────────────────┼───────────────────┼────────────────

Great Britain │ 25,050 │ 5,566 15 0

United States │ 534,100 │ 118,688 18 0

France │ 247,500 │ 55,000 0 0

Hamburg │ 161,000 │ 35,777 15 0

British India │ 467,500 │ 103,888 18 0

Cutch │ 313,400 │ 69,644 10 0

Arabia │ 105,200 │ 23,377 14 6

East Coast of Africa │ 1,233,900 │ 274,200 0 0

West Coast of Africa │ 230,000 │ 51,111 2 6

Madagascar │ 73,850 │ 16,411 2 0

│ ————————————————│ ——————— —— ——

Total Value of Exports │ 3,391,200 │ 753,666 15 0

─────────────────────────┴───────────────────┴────────────────

The principal articles of export from the port of Zanzibar were as

follows:

──────────────────────────────┬──────────────┬───────────────

Names of Articles. │ Quantities │ Value in

│ Exported │English Money.

──────────────────────────────┼──────────────┼───────────────

_Produce of the Island of │ │

Zanzibar, and East Coast of │ │ £ S. D.

Africa._ │ │

Ivory lbs. │ 488,600 │ 146,666 18 0

Cloves ” │ 4,860,100 │ 55,666 14 0

Gum Copal ” │ 875,875 │ 37,166 18 0

Hides number │ 95,000 │ 25,553 12 0

Cowries lbs. │ 8,016,000 │ 51,444 9 0

Sesamum Seed ” │ 8,388,360 │ 20,800 0 0

Cocoa-nuts ” │ 1,750,000 │ 2,711 5 0

Kopra (dried ” │ 2,450,000 │ 13,333 7 0

Cocoa-nut) │ │

Cocoa-nut Oil ” │ 252,000 │ 4,066 15 0

Rafters number │ 20,000 │ 1,250 0 0

Red Pepper lbs. │ 176,000 │ 1,422 6 0

│ │ ———— ———- ——

Value of Local Produce│ │ 360,082 4 0

exported│ │

_Articles of Foreign Manufacture._

American Cottons bales │ 6,200 │ 103,890 0 0

English Cottons { ” │ 950 }│ 35,895 0 0

{ boxes │ 100 }│

Indian Cottons { bales │ 1,100 }│ 50,089 0 0

{ pieces │ 13,200 }│

Muscat Loongees bales │ 200 │ 10,000 0 0

Venetian Beads barrels│ 900 │ 25,555 12 0

Brass Wire ” │ 225 │ 8,444 9 0

Muskets number │ 20,400 │ 15,111 2 0

Gunpowder barrels│ 10,500 │ 11,666 15 0

China and Iron Ware │ │ 7,111 0 0

Bullion German │ 370,000 │ 82,222 5 0

crowns │ │

│ -│ ———— —— —-

Value of 21 chief Articles of│ £│ 710,067 7 0

Export│ │

The following is a summary of the value of the import and export

trade of Zanzibar, borrowed from the consular reports of 1864.

£

1861-62 Imports 361,837

Exports 427,016

————

Total 788,853

1862-63 Imports 544,903

Exports 467,053

————

Total 1,011,956

————

Total increase during 1862-63 223,103

The distribution of the above trade was as follows:—

IMPORTS.

──────────────────────────────┬────────┬────────┬─────────┬───────

From what place. │1861-62.│1862-63.│Increase.│Decrease.

──────────────────────────────┼────────┼────────┼────────┬┴───────

│ £ │ £ │ £ │ £

United Kingdom │ │ 24,908│ 24,908│

British India │ 117,790│ 157,660│ 39,870│

Protected States of India │ 19,789│ 18,336│ │ 1,453

Arabia and Persian Gulf │ 10,063│ 10,572│ 509│

Coast of Africa and adjacent │ 115,856│ 206,394│ 90,538│

islands │ │ │ │

France │ 29,305│ 34,500│ 5,195│

Italy │ │ 7,263│ 7,263│

United States of America │ 27,789│ 26,179│ │ 1,610

Hamburg │ 41,242│ 52,674│ 11,432│

│————————│————————│————————│ ———————

Total £│ 361,837│ 544,902│ 183,065│

──────────────────────────────┴────────┴────────┴────────┴────────

Zanzibar imports from Europe and America silks, cottons, chintzes,

and calicoes, muskets and gunpowder, beads and gunny-bags, notions

and knick-nacks. The Americans chiefly send ‘domestics’ from the

Massachusetts Mills. This year some thousand pieces of English

cotton were sold, to the detriment of that specialty, and in 1863

even American merchants were compelled by war to import Manchester

goods. French vessels bring out little but specie, there being

hardly any demand for French manufactured goods. The total of French

imports in 1859 was $516,451, of which $400,000 were bullion and

$41,000 Venetian beads. Imports from Great Britain pass through

India. Hamburg ships are laden with commissioned articles, mostly

English,—glass ware and mirrors, English lead, sail-cloth in small

pieces, broad-cloths, and similar articles. From India come English

manufactured goods, cotton piece-goods, long-cloths, inferior

broad-cloths, beads, brass and iron wires, coarse cutlery (English

and foreign), bar and round iron, hardware, English muskets, tin,

pig-lead, copper, spelter, china and earthenware; cereals in

general, but especially rice, ghi, sweet-oil (cocoa), bitter-oil

(sesamum), spices and frankincense, sugar and sugar-candy. Maskat

supplies principally ornamental cloths (lungi, &c.), salt,

sharks’-flesh, and fish-oil. The African Mrima contributes chiefly

slaves, ivory, and copal, coffee and tobacco, cocoas and cloves;

cereals, especially Jowari or holcus; ghi, cowries, and other

shells, Zanzibar rafters and firewood, rhinoceros’ horns and

hippopotamus’ teeth. Small pigs of excellent copper, and malachite

of a fine quality, have been brought from the country of the

Cazembe, and the analogy of Angola would lead us to expect rich

mines in the interior. Madagascar contributes only tortoise-shell

and a little rice, the latter husked or parboiled, to prevent it

being used as seed by the importers. This custom is connected with

some superstition: a few years ago the inhabitants of Socotra sold

some she-goats to a ship’s crew, and complained that they were not

visited by rain for several seasons. In 1863, wishing to introduce

cocoa into Fernando Po, I bought a sack of seed from Prince Island,

and found that all had been scalded. The trade with India and Arabia

is carried on by ‘Daus’ and Batelas, of which there are neither

registers nor returns. Weights and measures vary greatly at

Zanzibar, where no three exactly correspond. There are no standards:

stone is used instead of metal, and the rapacity of the seller has

introduced notable differences into the sizes and contents of one

and the same denomination.

The Wakiyyah, or ounce, the unit here as amongst most of the

Arabic-speaking races, is the weight of a German dollar = Engl.

avoirdupois, 15.50 drs.

12 Wakiyyat =1 Ruba Man (¼ Ma¼und)= 11 oz. 10.50 drs.

16 Wakiyyat (& 1 Anna)=1 Ratl (lb.)= 15 8.00

24 Wakiyyat =1 Nisf Man (½ Maund)= 1 lb. 7 5.00

48 Wakiyyat, or German crowns=1 Man 2 lbs. 14 10.00

(Maund)=

2 Man ($96 weight) =1 Kaylah 5 13 4.00

(measure)=

6 Kaylah =1 Farsaleh (fraisle)= 35 0 0

10 Farásileh =1 Jizleh= 350 0 0

2 Jizleh =1 Kandi (Candy)= 700 0 0

The weight of the German crown thus regulated all others, and of the

former 16 may be assumed in round numbers to form the Ratl, or Arab

lb. Of course no standard is kept. Without wear the 16 coins should

weigh 449.568 grammes, or about 4 grammes less than the English

avoirdupois. According to Captain Guillain the average weighs only

442 grammes, and the loss becomes 7 grammes. Thus the Man, which

should be 1.348 Kilo., is reduced to 1.326; and the Farsaleh of 12

Man from 16.184 Kilos to 15.912. Practically, in order to facilitate

business, the Farsaleh or unit of higher value is made equal to 35

light lbs. avoirdupois or 15.874 Kilos, but the natives still assume

the weight of the Man at 48 piastres. The Kandi is the unit of

freight: thus the voyage to Bombay is said to cost $4.50 to $5 per

Candy. The Kandi for ivory = 21 Farasileh (= 333.354 Kilos), for

copal and cloves = 22 Farasileh. Tonnage is represented by the

Jizleh, a very uncertain weight, of which 2.103 to 3 are equivalent

to the Kandi.

The English pound avoirdupois is generally used. The Maskat Maund is

8¾ lbs. or 9 lbs., trebling that of Zanzibar, 2 lbs. 14 oz. 10 drs.

Ivory and cloves, coffee, gums, and similar articles are mostly sold

by the Farsaleh.[78]

The measures of length, besides the English foot, which is generally

recognized in commerce, are—

2½ Fitr (the short span between } = 1 Zirá’a, or cubit (= 18 inches),

thumb and forefinger) }

2 Shibr (long spans between } = 1 Zirá’a, or cubit.[79]

thumb and auricularis) }

2 Zirá’a = 1 Wár (= 1 yard).

2 Wár (4 Zirá’a) = 1 Ba’a, or fathom.

The Kadam or pace is roughly applied as a land measure. The learned

use as itinerary distances the Hindu ‘Kos’ and the Persian Farsakh

(parasang), without, however, any regularity. Marches are reckoned

by the Sa’at, or hour, somewhat like the pipe of the S. African

Boer.

The corn measures are—

1½ Ratl to 2 Ratl = 1 Kibabah.

4 Kibabah = 1 Kayla.

8 Kaylah to 16 Kaylah = 1 Farrah (فره).

60 Kaylah = 1 Jizleh.

112 Kaylah to 120 Kaylah = 1 Khandí.

The Kaylah, which is the standard, varies from 5 lbs. to 8 lbs.,

according to the grain or pulse measured. In parts of the Benadir it

is a little more than half that of Zanzibar, and expresses only 2.50

Kibabahs. The Farrah also is of many different capacities; it is

generally a jar whose capacity is determined by its contents in

Kaylahs.

The currency at present is—

8 Pice = 1 Anna (in India 4 pice) here a nominal coin =

3⅛_d._

2 Annas = 1 Tumni (6¾_d._).

26 Pice = 1 Pistoline, or small Robo.

32 Pice = 1 Robo (Ruba’ kirsh, quarter dollar = 1_s._

1½_d._).

16 Annas (4 Robos, = 1 Riyal or German crown = 4_s._ 2_d._ (here

or 128 Pice) equal to the Spanish dollar).

9½ dollars = 1 Half-doubloon.

18 or 19 dollars = 1 Doubloon.

German crowns or Maria Theresa (the standard coin) now becoming

rare, the following coins have been declared legal tenders at the

rates here specified.

The gold ounce = Maria Theresa $15.00

English sovereign 4.75

Gold Napoleon (20 francs) 3.75

” (10 francs) 1.7⁄8ths

” (5 francs) 0.15⁄16ths

Silver 5-franc piece 0.94 pice

Indian rupee 0.47

Formerly the Austrian Maria Theresa, coined at Milan, known as Girsh

Aswad (black dollar), was the only legal tender. Its weight should

be grammes 28.098. The Spanish or Pillar dollar, called Girsh Abyaz

(white dollar), Abu Madfa’ (the ‘Father of Cannon’ from the

columns), Girsh Moghrebi (the western dollar), and Abu Takeh (Father

of Window, whence the common trade term ‘Patac’), generally equalled

it in value. At times, however, there was an agio of 2 per cent. in

favour of the Austrian. The Mexican dollar suffered discount of 5 to

10 per cent. in favour of the Maria Theresa. The Bolivian was

unknown. The Company’s rupee was current, but valued at 220 to 223

per 100 Austrians. After abundant dunning on the part of the French,

who with scant conscience or delicacy insisted upon their silver

being taken, the late Sayyid ordered 110 five-franc pieces to be the

equivalent of 100 Maria Theresas: the bazar, however, demanded 112.

It is curious that while the Half-doubloon never varies, the

Doubloon is worth sometimes $18, sometimes $19.

Cloth is sold by the following measures:

2 Shibr = 1 Zirá’a, or cubit.

4 Zirá’a = 1 Saub, Tobe, or Shukkah.

2 Saub = 1 Doti, or Duti.

2 Doti = 1 Jurah, here generally pronounced Gora.

20 to 30 yards = 1 Takah.

The Saub or Tobe is at Zanzibar half-size of the Somali country. The

Takah or piece varies greatly. That of ‘Merkani,’ American

domestics, is generally of 30 yards. The Arabs are no judges of

broad-cloth: remnants are usually imported, as none would venture

upon a bale: often half a foot will be stolen from the whole length

of the cloth, and a false selvage sewed on.

Beads are thus sold—

1 Zirá’a = 1 Kaytab, or Kátá, a string about one cubit long.

35 lbs. = 1 Farsaleh.

Ghee is sold by the eighth, quarter, or half Maund, or Maund (3

lbs.). The Kiski, or earthen pot, contains from 50 to 52 lbs.

Vegetables and manioc are sold by the Pakhacheh بقاجه ‘package,’ or

bundle, which varies greatly in size, according as the article is

dear or cheap.

Salt is thus sold—

10 Kaylah (60 lbs.) = 1 Kandha (a

basket).

17 Farasileh (of Cutch salt) = 1 Kandhi.

22 Farasileh (Surat) = 1 Kandhi.

Coffee is sometimes sold by the Farsaleh of 7½ lbs., because that is

the Mocha weight.

Dates are sometimes sold by the Farsaleh of 70 lbs.

Cocoa-nuts by the 100 or 1000.

Timber and hides by the Kurjah, or score. Fuel in little bundles.

The following is a tariff of articles purchasable in the bazar

during the month of May, 1857. The reader, however, is warned that

the price of almost everything was then exceedingly high.

_Grains._

Rice (Bombay best) 17 German crowns per Kandi.

” Bengal 14 ” ”

” Zanzibar best 1 German crown per 5 Kaylah.

” ” 2nd 1 ” 5½ ”

quality

” ” 3rd ” 1 ” 6½ ”

” Indian (red) 1 ” 7 ”

Holcus or Jowari (Ar. Durrah and Taam, Kis. Mtámá, Ang. Kafir Corn)—

Coast Grain 1 German crown per 15 Kaylah.

Indian ” 1 ” ” 16 ”

At harvest time even 130 Kaylah may be bought for a dollar.

Muhindy or maize—

Coast grain 1 German crown per 16 Kaylah.

Wheat (all imported)—

1st quality 10 German crowns per Kandi.

2nd ” 9 ” ”

Flour (America) 4 ” per barrel.

” (Maskat) 2 to 3 ” ” Juniyah.

Bájri, Arabic

Dukhn, Guinea

corn, Pennisetum

typhoideum

(imported) the

best from Cutch 1 German crown per 13 Kaylah.

Of this grain not more than 50 sacks are grown on the Island.

_Pulse._

Lobiya (best and largest

is the white from

Mozambique) 1 German crown per 8 Kaylah.

Lobiya (smaller reddish) 1 ” ” 10 ”

” (small red) 1 ” ” 12 ”

” (inferior) 1 ” ” 14 ”

Chaná, Arab. Hummus,

Persian Nukhud, Kis.

‘dengu’ Anglo-Indian

‘gram’ from Port. Grão German

(Mandavie best) 12 crowns per Kandi.

Chaná (Banjáru red,

called black) 8 ” ”

Chaná (Jambusiri yellow,

called white) 8 ” ”

Sesamum (Tel, Kunjid, or

Futa) 1 German crown per 7 Kaylah.

This article has greatly varied of late in price: from 6 to 8½

Kaylah have been bought for a dollar.

Thúr[80] (Arab. Túriyán

Kis. Baradi) 1 German crown per 10 Kaylah.

Mung (Persian Mash Kis.

Chiroko) 1 ” ” 9 ”

(small and green, boiled and eaten in pillows.)

Urat[81] (or Papri Kis.

P’hawi) 1 German crown per 10 Kaylah.

Mustard seed 1 ” ” 12 ”

Mahogo or Manioc, five small pieces for a pice. It is

extraordinarily dear.

Cucumbers—three per pice. They are brought from the coast.

Betel-nut—from seven to eight per pice.

Betel-leaves—the Rabtah of 30 leaves (it sometimes contains 50) for

a pice.

_Fruits._

Cocoa-nuts—7½ German crowns per 1000.

Mangos now a fancy price—half a dollar will be paid for the Kafír,

or basket, which costs 4 or 5 pice in the season.

Jack-fruit—3, 4, or 5 pice a piece.

Oranges now in season. Three pice for 50 or 60 good fruit, and 100

if inferior.

Plantains are out of season. From half a dollar to two dollars per

bunch.

Pine-apples rare—5, 6, or 7 pice each. When cheap they are to be had

for half a pice.

_Dates._

Best quality ¾ German crown per Farsaleh.

2nd ” 11 Annas ”

3rd ” 10 ”

4th ” 9 ”

_Ghee._

Best quality 8 German crowns per Farsaleh.

2nd ” 7½ ” ”

3rd ” 6 ” ”

_Meats._

Goats’ flesh 1 German crown per 10 lbs.

Mutton 1 ” ” 11 lbs.

Beef is sold by the bullock, costing on an average $8.

Fowls—8 large, 12 half-fowls, or 16 chickens, $1.

Ducks—(the pair), $1.

Geese—(each), $1.

Sharks’ meat, salted—one piece about 1 oz. weight per pice.

Eggs—One per pice; when cheap, three.

Milk—From 6 to 8 pice per bottle.

_Sugars._

Soft 3¾ German crowns per Farsaleh.

Candy 6 ” ”

Halwa 1 ” per 8 Maunds.

Honey is not procurable at this season. Bees-wax varies from 7 to 8

dollars per Farsaleh.

_Salt_ (imported)—1 German crown per 43 Kaylah. During the season 60

Kaylah may be had.

_Coffees._

Mocha 6 German crowns per Farsaleh.

Cochin 5½ ” ”

_Tea_—A very inferior kind is sold by Kojahs for 4 Annas, and

another but little better for 6 Annas, the pound.

_Oils._

Sweet (cocoa) 2¾ German crowns per Farsaleh.

Bitter (sesamum) 3¾ ” ”

Turpentine 2 ” per gallon.

Linseed (bad) 1¾ ” ”

_Spices._

Black pepper 3¾ German crowns per Farsaleh.

Red ditto now fetches fancy prices.

Cloves 1⅞ German crowns per Farsaleh.

Ginger 1¾ ” ”

Nutmegs 30 ” ”

_Garm Masallah._

Zira (cummin) 3 German crowns per Farsaleh.

Garlic 4 ” ”

Coriander 1 ” per 15 Kaylah.

Cinnamon 7¼ ” per Farsaleh.

Cardamoms 27 ” ”

Turmeric,

” best quality 2 ” ”

” second 1¼ ” ”

Ginger 1¾ ” ”

Camphor 6 Annas per pound.

_Metals._

Lead 1 German crown per 3 Maunds (9

lbs.).

Tin, best 10 ” per Farsaleh.

” second 9 ” ”

quality

Iron (Swedish) 2¼ ” ”

” (English) 1 and 6 Annas ”

Brass wire (No. 8) 1¼ German crowns per Maund.

” (No. 1 ” ”

7)

” (fine) ¾ ” ”

Iron wire (No. 8) 5 ” ”

” (No. 7) 4 ” ”

” (fine) 3 ” ”

There is no copper wire, as the Arabs refuse to pay the price; yet

some tribes in the interior demand it.

_Various articles._

Copal (best) 9 German crowns per Farsaleh.

” (2nd) 7 ” ”

” (3rd) 6½ ” ”

” (inferior) 4 ” ”

Wax Candles 12 Annas the

dozen.

Formerly the Americans brought excellent candles; the Arabs,

however, fancied that they contained pigs’ grease, and now none are

procurable.

French 4 German crowns per ream.

Writing-paper

2nd quality 2 ” ”

3rd quality 14 Annas ”

Post-paper 1½ German crowns ”

Portuguese 2½ ” ”

_Hides._

Brava 23 German crowns per Korjah

(20).

Pemba 10 ” ”

Common 9½ ” ”

_Goat-skins._

1st quality 2½ German crowns ”

2nd ditto 1½ ” ”

_Soap (European)._

20 bars, in box 1¾ German crown.

12 cakes, perfumed 1 ”

”6 cakes, in box ¾ ”

12 cakes, inferior ½ ”

Country soap 1½ ” per Farsaleh.

Potash ¾ ” ”

A few cigars are sold by the shopkeepers. They are of very inferior

quality, and cost about half a dollar for a bundle of 25.

_Paint._

Red, per tub 1¾ German

crowns.

Black ” 2 ”

White ” 1¾ ”

Blue ” 2 ”

Pitch 2 ” per Farsaleh.

Tar 1½ ”

-----

Footnote 78:

Farsaleh, in the plural Farasileh, is supposed to be an Arabic

word, but it is unintelligible to the Arabs, except when they sell

coffee. I can only suggest that it is derived from our parcel, and

that we, on the other hand, have taken from it the word fraisle

(of coffee).

Footnote 79:

Capt. Guillain finds amongst the Wasawahili that the cubit

averages 45 centi-metres, and amongst the Somal 48 to 49. This

agrees with my observations. The latter race is not only tall and

gaunt; it has also a peculiarly long and simian forearm: moreover,

when cloth is to be measured, the biggest man in the village is

generally summoned.

Footnote 80:

The Banyans import this pulse (Cajanus Indicus) split, skin, boil,

and eat it with ghi; sometimes with rice and ghi, like Dall. It is

supposed to be a very windy food.

Footnote 81:

Unknown in Persia, this little black grain, like poppy seed, comes

from Bombay, and is eaten boiled with ghi.

APPENDIX II.

A. B.

THERMOMETRIC OBSERVATIONS IN EAST AFRICA.

Appendix A.

OBSERVATIONS TAKEN IN ZANZIBAR TOWN, BETWEEN MARCH, 1853, AND JUNE,

1853.

────────────────────────────┬──────────┬──────────┬──────────┬──────────

Register. │ March, │ April, │ May, │ June,

│ 1853. │ 1853. │ 1853. │ 1853.

────────────────────────────┼──────────┼──────────┼──────────┼──────────

Extreme height of barometer │ 30.140 │ 30.100 │ 30.200 │ 30.272

during the month │ │ │ │

Extreme depression │ 29.892 │ 29.938 │ 29.990 │ 30.088

” ” ” │ │ │ │

Mean of barometer at sunrise│ 30.044 │ 30.023 │ 30.114 │ 30.166

” ” 10 A.M.│ 30.061 │ 30.029 │ 30.116 │ 30.189

” ” 4 P.M.│ 29.985 │ 29.992 │ 30.080 │ 30.135

” ” 10 P.M.│ 30.016 │ 30.016 │ 30.084 │ 30.157

Extreme height of dry │ 90° │ 87° │ 86° │ 81°

thermometer during the │ │ │ │

month │ │ │ │

Extreme depression │ 79° │ 76° │ 72° │ 73°

” ” │ │ │ │

Mean of thermometer at │ 83°.290 │ 80°.766 │ 77°.807 │ 75°.300

sunrise │ │ │ │

” ” 10 A.M.│ 84°.096 │ 82°.366 │ 79°.450 │ 77°.600

” ” 4 P.M.│ 85°.193 │ 82°.966 │ 79°.419 │ 78°.800

” ” 10 P.M.│ 83°.806 │ 82°.166 │ 78°.677 │ 77°.866

Greatest difference between │ 8° │ 8° │ 8° │ 11°

dry and wet bulbs │ │ │ │

least ” ” ” │ 4° │ 2° │ 2° │ 5°

Extreme fall of rain, inches│ 1.7 │ 3.76 │ 5.63 │ none

Total fall of rain, inches │ 5.34 │ 18.34 │ 24.03 │ none

General direction of wind at│N. and E. │ S.W. │ S.W. │ S.W.

sunrise. │ │ │ │

” ” 10 A.M.│N. and W. │ S.W. │ S.W. │ S.W.

” ” 4 P.M.│N. and W. │ S.W. and │ S.W. │ S.W.

│ │ S.E. │ │

” ” 10 P.M.│ S.E. and │ S.W. and │ S.W. │ S.W. and

│ N.E. │ S.E. │ │ S.E.

│ │ │ │

NOTE. The evaporating dish │ │ │ │

had not reached Zanzibar │ │ │ │

when these observations │ │ │ │

were recorded. │ │ │ │

N.B. Medium temperature │ │ │ │

generally assumed to be │ │ │ │

79° (F.), and the mercury │ │ │ │

rarely rises above 89° │ │ │ │

(F.) │ │ │ │

OBSERVATIONS TAKEN IN ZANZIBAR TOWN, BETWEEN JULY, 1853, AND

FEBRUARY, 1854.

───────────────────────────────┬─────────┬─────────┬─────────┬────────┬─────────

Register. │ July, │November,│December,│January,│February,

│ 1853. │ 1853. │ 1853. │ 1854. │ 1854.

───────────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼────────┼─────────

Extreme height of barometer │ 30.362 │ 30.184 │ 30.132 │ 30.142 │ 30.104

during the month │ │ │ │ │

Extreme depression │ 30.112 │ 29.886 │ 29.928 │ 29.900 │ 29.850

” ” ” │ │ │ │ │

Mean of barometer at sunrise │ 30.227 │ 30.120 │ 30.050 │ 30.035 │ 30.023

” ” 10 A.M.│ 30.237 │ 30.132 │ 30.068 │ 30.049 │ 30.051

” ” 3 P.M.│ 30.190 │ 30.050 │ 29.993 │ 29.986 │ 29.961

” ” 10 P.M.│ 30.181 │ 30.088 │ 30.014 │ 29.977 │ 29.986

Extreme height of dry thermo- │ 82° │ 88° │ 89° │ 90° │ 90°

meter during the month │ │ │ │ │

Extreme depression │ 70° │ 75° │ 77° │ 82° │ 78°

” ” ” │ │ │ │ │

Mean of thermometer at sunrise │ 74°.645 │ 80°.066 │ 82°.030 │83°.580 │ 83°.892

” ” 10 A.M.│ 77°.741 │ 83°.300 │ 84°.483 │85°.870 │ 86°

” ” 4 P.M.│ 78°.483 │ 84°.666 │ 86°.095 │86°.741 │ 87°

” ” 10 P.M.│ 78°.064 │ 84°.433 │ 85°.129 │86°.161 │ 86°.535

Greatest difference between │ 11° │ 11° │ 11° │ 10° │ 11°

dry and wet bulbs │ │ │ │ │

Least ” ” ” │ 3° │ 3° │ 3° │ 5° │ 5°

Extreme fall of rain, inches │ 0.96 │ 2.34 │ 2.10 │ 2.32 │ 1.84

Total fall of rain, inches │ 1.38 │ 11.80 │ 7.90 │ 12.14 │ 3.44

General direction of wind │ S.W. │S.E. and │ N.E. │ N.E. │ N.E.

│ │ S.W. │ │ │

at sunrise │ │ │ │ │

” ” 10 A.M.│ S.W. │S.E. and │ N.E. │ N.E. │ N.E.

│ │ S.W. │ │ │

” ” 4 P.M.│S.W. and │ S.W. │ N.E. │ N.E. │ N.E.

│ S.E. │ │ │ │

” ” 10 P.M.│S.W. and │ S.W. │N.E. and │ N.E. │ N.E.

│ S.E. │ │ S.E. │ │

───────────────────────────────┼─────────┼─────────┼─────────┼────────┼─────────

│ Total │Greatest │ Least │ │

│ evap- │ evap- │ evap- │ │

│ oration │ oration │ oration │ │

│ │ in │ in │ │

│ during │ any one │ any one │ │

│ the │ day. │ day. │ │

│ month. │ │ │ │

The evaporating dish showed│ │ │ │ │

In January (1857)inches│ 2.36 │ .09 │ .04 │ │

February ” ” │ 2.19 │ .10 │ .05 │ │

March ” ” │ 2.49 │ .09 │ .06 │ │

April ” ” │ 1.76 │ .10 │ .03 │ │

_APPENDIX B._

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT PANGA-NI AND CHOGWE, FEBRUARY 1857.

───────┬────────────────┬────────────────┬────────────────────────────

Date. │10 A.M. │4 P.M. │Remarks.

───────┼────────────────┼────────────────┼────────────────────────────

4 Feb. │85° │86° 30′ │In house Panga-ni: long

│ │ │ upper room, open to E. and

│ │ │ S. Clear day, fine breeze

│ │ │ from E.

5 ” │87° │86° │

6 ” │87° │89° in boat │Sky clear. High E. wind.

│ │ │ Scud at night.

7 ” │92° } │91° } │Wind N.E. Stars and

│ } hut │ } hut │ moon hidden by scud.

8 ” │89° 30′ } at │90° 30′ } at │At midnight 74°. Heavy

│ } Chogwe│ } Chogwe│ dew. Scud at night.

│ } │ } │ Rain in mountains.

9 ” │78° 30′ │79° │Both obs. made in Tongwe

│ │ │ Fort.

10 ” │85° │ │Obs. taken in shade of rock.

│ │ │ Jungle below Tongwe. Very

│ │ │ hot day.

───────┼────────────────┼────────────────┼────────────────────────────

Sums │604° 0′ │522° 0′ │B. P. Therm, by Newman at

│ │ │ Panga-ni, 212.2 Temp. 85°

│ │ │ Chogway, 212.1 ” 89°

│ │ │ Tongwe, 208.8 ” 81°

Means │86° 17′ │87° 0′ │

OBSERVATIONS MADE ON ROUTE TO FUGA, FEBRUARY, 1857.

───────┬───────────────┬───────────────┬──────────────────────────────

DATE. │ 10 A.M. │ 4 P.M. │ REMARKS

───────┼───────────────┼───────────────┼──────────────────────────────

11 ” │91° (Nullah) │99° (Do.) │N. E. wind. Flaming day. Clear

│ │ │ evening and night.

12 ” │86° 30′ (hut at│96° │Cloudy morn. Hot day. At night

│ Kohode facing│ │ sheet-lightning over

│ N.) │ │ Usumbara hills.

13 ” │87° (tree │92° (3 P.M.) │Wind N. E. Lightning at night.

│ facing N.) │ │ Heavy nimbus from Usumbara,

│ │ │ rain coming up against wind.

14 ” │85° (ditto) │81° Pasunga │S.W. RAINY MONSOON BEGINS.

│ │ under shed │ S.W. wind. Cloudy day. Storm

│ │ │ at 4 P.M. Therm. 76°.

15 ” │80° (shed) │75° hill-top │S.W. wind. Rain in morn and at

│ │ │ night. Mists over hills.

│ │ │ Clouds.

16 ” │79° (hut Fuga) │73° (hut) │N.E. wind. No sun or stars for

│ │ │ lights. Rain at night.

17 ” │72° (hut below │90° Pasunga │S.W. wind. Stormy. Heavy rain

│ Fuga in rain)│ │ 9 to 10 A. M. Canopus

│ │ │ visible.

───────┼───────────────┼───────────────┼──────────────────────────────

Sums │580° 30′ │606° │B. P. at

│ │ │ Kohode, 209.8 ” 80°

│ │ │ Msiki Mguru, 209.8 ” 80°

Means │82° 51′ │86° 34′ │ Pasunga, 209.8 ” 85°

│ │ │ Fuga, 205.0 ” 79°

OBSERVATIONS MADE ON RETURN TO CHOGWE, FEBRUARY, 1857.

───────┬───────────────┬───────────────┬──────────────────────────────

Date. │ 10 A.M. │ 4 P.M. │ Remarks.

───────┼───────────────┼───────────────┼──────────────────────────────

18 Feb.│79° (open air) │ │

19 ” │93° (tree) │84° │At Kizanga. N.E. wind. Rained

│ │ │ half day. At noon in shade

│ │ │ 101°. During storm 76°.

20 ” │89° ditto │90° } │N.E. wind. Rain ceased.

│ │ } Hut, │Stinging sun. Cloudy night.

21 ” │ │87° } Chogwe │N.E. wind. Cloudy. Veiled sky.

22 ” │84° } │86° } │Nimbus from S.W. against wind.

│ │ │ No rain.

23 ” │92° } Hut, │ │N.E. wind. Close, cloudy,

│ │ │ dusty

│ } Chogwe │ │ weather. Hot night.

24 ” │90° } │ │Hot air. Close and cloudy.

│ │ │ Dust like sand.

───────┼───────────────┼───────────────┼──────────────────────────────

Sums │527° │347° │

Means │87° 50′ │86° 45′ │

OBSERVATIONS MADE ON RETURN TO PANGA-NI, FEBRUARY, 1857.

───────┬────────────────────┬────────────────────┬────────────────────────

Date. │ 10 A.M. │ 4 P.M. │ Remarks.

───────┼────────────────────┼────────────────────┼────────────────────────

25 Feb.│90° │89° │Both in hut, Chogwe.

│ │ │ N.E. wind, fine day.,

26 ” │86° │82° │Both in boat. N.E. wind.

│ │ │ Very hot sun. Clear

│ │ │ night.

27 ” │82° 30′ } │85° 30′ } │Leakage, 10 A.M.

│ } Governor’s│ } Governor’s│ Hot night. Cold dews.

28 ” │ } House │85° 30′ } House │Ditto. Clear hot day.

│ } Panga-ni │ } │ Cloudy night.

1 March│84° 30′ } │85° 30′ } │Ditto. Cloudy morn.

│ } │ } │ Fine clear day.

───────┼────────────────────┼────────────────────┼────────────────────────

Sums │343° │427° │

│ │30′ │

Means │85° 45′ │85° 30′ │

APPENDIX II.

C.

METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS

MADE IN 1857, 1858, 1859.

Appendix C.

OBSERVATIONS MADE FROM KAOLE TO ZUNGOMERO, DURING THE MONTHS OF JUNE

AND JULY, 1857.

--------------

DAY

JUNE 28 Barometer at 10 a.m., 30.336; at 4 p.m., 30.646. Therm. at

10 a.m., 83°/(81°); at 4 p.m., 97°/(85°). Zungomero. Cold in

morning, 68°. Clear. Cumulus and high wind at 10 a.m. Hot midday.

Cumulus (5). Wind fell; rose again about 4 p.m.

29 A march. Cold. Pleasant hot clear sun. Clouds, 4 from S.W. At 4

a.m. cool S.W. wind, therm. 84°.

30 Kaole, Kinga-ni, Boma-ni. Barometer at 10 a.m., 30.438; at 4

p.m., 30.232. Therm. at 10 a.m., 83°/81°; at 4 p.m., 80°/78°.

Morning hot. At 9 a.m. clouds, cumulus, and nimbus. At 11 a.m.

rain. Clouds and heat-showers all day.

JULY 1 March. Mkwaju la Mvua-ni. Normal weather. Clouds fleecy,

misty, came up with sun. Heavy rain, huge drops about 1 p.m.

Cloudy during day. Fine night. Wind S.W.

2 March. Morning fine. Nimbus about noon. No rain. Wind S.W.

3 March. Same as yesterday. Wind S.W.

4 Halt. Sick, uncertain. Day as usual. At night, moon, rainbow,

thick clouds. Violent rain. Mcho’o, between 2 Masikas, lasts one

day, and then goes off for a time.

5 March. Clear morning. Hot sun. Mist clouds and nimbus. Few drops

of rain. Splendid night.

6 March. Clear morning. Hot sun. Mist clouds and nimbus. Few drops

of rain. Splendid night.

7 Barometer at 10 a.m., 30.078; at 4 p.m., 30.086. Therm. at 10

a.m., 83°/81°; at 4 p.m., 85°/83°. Clear morning. Hot sun. Mist

clouds and nimbus. Few drops of rain. High wind.

8 March. Wild day. Rain frequent, and in huge drops. Furious winds.

At night cloudy, wind S.W., as usual.

9 March. Alternately hot, cold, and rainy. Violent gusts. Rain heavy

before moon rose. Heavy dew. Wind S.W.

10 March. Morning cloudy. Clear and hot about noon. Fleecy clouds.

No rain. Wind light and S.W.

11 Barometer at 10 a.m., 29.325; at 4 p.m., 29.320. Therm. at 10

a.m., 76°/76°; at 4 p.m., 78°/76°. Cloudy morning.

12 March. Madege Madogo. Day fine. Wind and clouds from S.W. Clouds,

cumulus after 7 and 8. Wind high.

13 March. Kidunda. Day exactly like yesterday.

14 March. Mgeta. Day normal. Cool in morning (70° or 71°), hot in

midday, clouds and cumulus from S.W., and cold at night (68°).

15 March. Kiruru. Day at first misty. Hot sun at noon. Heavy nimbi

from S.W. Torrents of rain at night.

16 Halt. Kiruru. Too sick to observe. Steamy hot day. Damp and

disagreeable. Nimbi from S.W. at night. About 8 p.m. torrents of

rain.

17 Halt. Kiruru. Too sick to observe. Dull day, no sun, wind, or

rain. Sky all clouded over from S.W.

18 March. To Duthumî. Day close. Few clouds from S.W. Morning clear.

Hot sun. Cloudy afternoon. Cold gusty night.

19 to 23 Halt. Too sick to observe. At Duthumî, perfectly uniform

weather. Wind, probably from proximity of hills, from N. and N.E.,

cold and high. Hot sun. Cloudy morn and afternoon. Cold night,

66°. No rain whatever.

24 March. To Bakera. Red hot day with cold wind. Few cirri from S.W.

Cold night.

25 March. To Zungomero. Bright morning. At noon heavy nimbi from S.

and S.W. No rain.

26 Halt. Too sick to observe. Little wind. Hot occasional sun.

Cloudy from S.W. In hut therm. never varied from between 70° and

80°.

27 Halt. Too sick to observe. Cool cloudy day from the S.W.

Impossible to make observations. Very damp country, and mists

easily rise.

REMARKS.—Air, as Baloch say, lighter and more healthy than Zanzibar.

Showers, accompanied and followed by raffales of cold wind.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT ZUNGOMERO, ETC., DURING THE MONTHS OF JULY AND

AUGUST, 1857.

--------------

Climates—

1. Zungomero and Rivers—Rain every day or night. Violent bursts

after every 2 or 3 days. Very unwholesome. S.W. wind. Cold from

below.

2. Goma Hills—Fog, mist in morn. Then clear day. Cold S. wind.

Wholesome cool nights.

3. In Rufuma and Usagara Hills—Very cold and hot, 50° and 60° at

night, and dew, 90° and 100° in day. Rain and drizzle. Cold high E.

winds. Healthy, because high.

DATE, JULY AND AUGUST, 1857.

1 Barometer at 10 a.m., 29.320; at 4 p.m., 29.028. Temperature of

air at 10 a.m., 73°/75°; at 4 p.m., 79°/76°. Direction of wind at

sunrise, S.W.; at 10 a.m., S.W.; at 4 p.m., S.W.—REMARKS. High

wind, S.W. Drops of rain. Clear and sunshine at times.[82]

2 Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 76°/73°, at 4 p.m., 76°/74°.

Direction of wind at sunrise, S.W.; at 10 a.m., S.W.—Rem. Clouds

higher. Drops of rain. A rather clear night.

3 Temperature of air at 10 am., 74°/71°; at 4 p.m., 79°/76°.

Direction of wind at sunrise, S.W.; at 10 a.m., S.W.; at 4 p.m.,

S.W.—Rem. Fine morning. Heavy nimbus from S. Day clear. Hot sun.

Torrents of rain at night.

4 Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 74°/72°; at 4 p.m., 76°/74°.

Direction of wind at sunrise, S.E.; at 10 a.m., S.E.; at 4 p.m.,

S.E.—Rem. Hot sun. Nimbus from E. Rain from E. and S.E., at 3 p.m.

5 Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 73°/70°; at 4 p.m., 78°/75°.

Direction of wind at sunrise, E.; at 10 a.m., E.; at 4 p.m.,

E.—Rem. Dewy morn. Hot sun. Nimbus from S.E. Rain at 2 p.m. Finer

day.

6 Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 75°/72°; at 4 p.m., 81°/71°.

Direction of wind at sunrise, S.E.; at 10 a.m., S.E.; at 4 p.m.,

S.E.—Rem. Dawn, rain. Fine day. Cumuli on horizon. At 2 p.m.

tourbillon and dust. No rain. High wind all night.

7 March. Very fine morn. Hot sun. Cloud at 10 a.m. Cold wind near

river. Then hot sun. In mountains heavy nimbus at 4 p.m. from S.W.

Cleared off. Tourbillon at night about 12 p.m. Cloudless night.

8 Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 80°/78°; at 4 p.m., 85°/81°.

Direction of wind at sunrise, E.; at 10 a.m., S.E. Cloudless morn.

Clouds about 10 a.m. from E. Fine hot day. Dew very heavy. 59° in

morn.

9 March. Direction of wind at sunrise, E.; at 10 a.m., E. Gloomy

morn. Clouds at 1 p.m. Fine and clear even. At dawn, therm. 54°.

Copious dew. Healthy, cold.

10 Intent. (Chya K’henge.) Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 76°/75°;

at 4 p.m., 82°/79°. Direction of wind at sunrise, W. and by N.; at

10 a.m., W.; at 4 p.m., W. Cirrus in morn. All over heavy nimbi

from W. at 12, and at 3 p.m. Perfectly clear night. Stars burning

brighter every day.—From 8 to 10 in tent Mzizi Mdogo. (No rain in

these hills. Cold, fine, and healthy.) Rufuta. Mfuru-ni. Muhama R.

11 March. Clear hot morn. Fleecy clouds at 10 a.m. Heavy nimbi from

W. Therm. in shade of tree at 10 a.m.; 87° at 3 p.m.?; at 5 p.m.

sky covered. Clear night. Dew, clouds on hill-tops. Cold wind from

N. at 10 p.m.

12 March. Clear hot morn. Heat clouds at 7.30 a.m. Wind N. Day,

cloudy (cumuli high) with flashes of sun. Night clouded with thin

clouds.

13 March. Wet fog on hill-tops. Therm. 74°. Did not clear till 10

a.m. Fiery hot day. Fine cool night. Heavy dew.

14 March. Cloudy morn. Then heavy nimbi from hill-tops, S.E.

Spitting of rain from hills. At 9 a.m. clear. Hot at noon. Fiery

sun and clouds.

15 Halt. Sunny day. Few heat-clouds. Hills clear. Cold night.

Climate warmer than before.

16 Ditto in all points.

17 March. (Muhama.) Cool morn. Very hot day. At night rain-drops.

18 Halt. Furious hill-wind from S. and S.W. Clouds, and pleasant

day. Cold dewy night. No rain. Land dried up.

19 Halt. Fine day. S. wind in gusts and raffales. Clouds as usual

when sun strong. Cool dewy night.

20 Ditto. Climate sensibly warmer.

21 March. (Makata.) Cloudy morn at 10 a.m. Cumuli and sun mitigated

by high S.W. wind. Night alternately cloudy and clear. Climate

warm.

22 March. (M’yombo.) Dewy morn. Fiery sun. High S. wind. In

afternoon heavy nimbi from S. Cold dewy night.

23 March. (Mbami.) Fine cool morn. Heavy dew clouds. Very close at 8

a.m. Pleasant S.W. wind at 9. Gentle wind under hills. Cool clear

night.

24 March. (Kadétamare.) Cloudy dawn. Hot sun. Fiery afternoon. Few

high cirri. Cool evening. Very cold night. Therm. 58° and 60°. Dew

heavy.

25 March. (Muinyi.) Cold, clear, dewy morn. Then fiery sun and a few

cirri. S. winds. Cool pleasant night.

26 Halt. Morn cloudy. Heavy nimbi. Violent S. wind. Night cool and

pleasant. Hill-tops. Misty morn. and even.

27 March. (Nidabi.) Cloudy morn. Then small rain from hills. Cold

raw wind from S.E. Furious heat at morn. Few cirri. Hot till 12,

then cool. Pleasant night.

30 Barometer at 10 a.m., 28.400; at 4 p.m., 28.331. Temperature of

air at 10 a.m., 74°/71°; at 4 p.m., 75°/73°. Direction of wind at

sunrise, S.W.; at 10 a.m., S.W.—Rem. Moderate rain in morning.

Very heavy at 12. Fearful burst at 3 p.m.

31 Barometer at 10 a.m., 28.468; at 4 p.m., 28.340. Temperature of

air at 10 a.m., 74°/72°; at 4 p.m., 76°/74°. Direction of wind at

sunrise, S.W.; at 10 a.m., S.W.—Rem. Bad rain all night.

AUGUST 28. Halt. Fine morn. At 10 a.m., cloud on hills. Spitting of

rain. At noon, cloudy. At 4 p.m., hot sun. Cool night after 10 or

11 p.m., before hot.

29 March. (Rumuma.) Fine morn. Dew clouds in E., on hills obscuring

sun. On hill-top, Sarsar wind. Then clear sky and fiery sun. Wind,

S. At night in tent therm. 56°.

30 Halt. Morn, clear and little dew. Day sunny and cloudy; climate

of Italy. Therm. at 2 p.m. in tent, 95° (40° variation in day).

Nights cool and pleasant.

31 Halt. Cool morn. Clear day. Fiery sunset. Morn, hazy. Cool and

pleasant night.

ALT. OBSERVATIONS ON GOMA HILLS.

Rufuta River (5.45 p.m.) 28.932. Alt. 77°, Det. 75°. Then cloudy

evening.

Half up Pass (6.15 a.m.) 28.700. Alt. 77°, Det. 72°. Misty morn.

Fog.

On Goma (8.30 a.m.) 27.994. Alt. 78°, Det. 75°. Clearer, sun and

clouds.

On summit (9.30 a.m.) 27.400. Alt. 82°, Det. 84°. Clear and fine.

Mfuruny (5.15 p.m.) 27.388. Alt. 80°, Det. 74°. Fine clear evening.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT INENGE AND UGOGI DURING THE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER,

1857.

--------------

DAY

1 Heavy rain in morn at dawn. Then clear and cloudy. At 10 a.m. sky

all clouded. Long shower of small drops. (Halt. Rumuma.) In night

spitting of rain. Close night. Wind E.

2 March. (Marenga.) Drizzle for 1 hour. Nimbi in morn from E. Then

cold wind and clouds. At Marenga furious E. wind. Cumuli high. Sun

moderate. At sunset, wind sank. Came up with moon, furious at

night. Sky clear, but table-cloths on hills.

3 March. (Jungle.) Clear morn. Wind fell with dawn. Gusts at 7 a.m.

Very hot sun. Asses rushing under the shade. Fine, clear, cold

night; all wet with dew. A few clouds (mists) and gusts.

4 March. (Inenge.) Fine cool morn. Very hot, and few clouds till 9.

Then pleasant breeze. Clouds at 10, but not sun. Clear and burning

at 4. Night at first warm, then cold.

5 Halt. Barometer at 10 a.m., 26.432; at 4 p.m., 26.412. Temperature

of air at 10 a.m., 77°/76°; at 4 p.m., 77°/75°. Cool morn. Clouds

from hills till about 4 p.m. Sun then burning. Misty, dewy night.

Wind E. and dusty.

6 Halt. Barometer at 10 a.m., 26.688; at 4 p.m., 26.616. Temperature

of air at 10 a.m., 87°/73°; at 4 p.m., 79°/76°. Hot morn, sun.

Wind from N. and E. Very hot at 4 p.m. Exceedingly cold and clear

night. Wind at sunset raw and dangerous.

7 Halt. Barometer at 10 a.m., 26.458; at 4 p.m., 26.450. Temperature

of air at 10 a.m., 75°/75°; at 4 p.m., 75°/73°. Hot morn. Wind

very variable. Feels killingly cold. Yet therm. high. At 4 begins

to be feverish.

8 Halt. Barometer at 10 a.m., 26.480; at 4 p.m., 26.400. Temperature

of air at 10 a.m., 82°/78°; at 4 p.m., 76°/78°. Fine cool morn.

Terrible sun afterward from 10 to 2. Wind very variable. Fine

night.

9 Halt. Barometer at 10 a.m., 26.418; at 4 p.m., 26.392. Temperature

of air at 10 a.m., 80°/78°; at 4 p.m., 79°/76°. Cool day. Cloudy

and windy. Fine night as usual, very damp. Wind E. and N.—5 to 9.

Pitched in hollow at foot of Pass.

10 March. Cold morn. Then great heat. Ascending Inenge mount. Fine

cool wind. Cold night. Sun very hot at 4 p.m. Wind E. and N.

11 Halt. Rubeho. Cold heavy fog in morn. Barometer at 10 a.m.,

25.100; at 4 p.m., 25.070. Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 78°/79°;

at 4 p.m., 76°/73°. Hot sun. At 10, fleecy, cloudy. Fierce heat at

12. Cool night, foggy, and no wind.

12 March 2nd. Rubeho. Heavy fog. Cleared at 9. At night, 64° in

tent. Barometer at 4 p.m., 24.468. Temperature of air at 4 p.m.,

73°/75°. Very high wind at 10; lasted all day; fell with the sun;

rose again, and lasted all night. Rarefied and very cold.

13 Halt. Rubeho. Foggy morn. Barometer at 10 a.m., 24.462; at 4

p.m., 24.438. Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 71°/71°; at 4 p.m.,

70°/70°. Like rain. Cold day, but sun hot. Fog heavy. E. wind. Sun

fierce. Wind and cold. Little dew in all these places. All fog.

Dates, 12, 13 (Sept.) above Pass.

14 March. Exceedingly foggy morn. Sun bright and hot about noon.

Barometer about 4 p.m., 24.644. Temperature of air at 4 p.m.,

70°/72°. Therm. in tent at dawn, 50°. High E. wind. At night, raw,

windy, and foggy.

15 March. Jungle. Fog in morn. Bright hot sun. Few clouds after 1

p.m. High E. wind. Terrible night. Pitched on hill-side, with a

draft to the hot plains below. Dates, 14, 15 (Sept.). Descent.

16 Halt. Little Rubeho. Fog, mist (almost rain), and wild wind in

morn. High E. wind all day. Sun exceedingly hot. Too occupied to

observe.

17 March. (Jungle.) Fog, mist, and wind from E. Very hot in day. Sun

furious, and sky cloudless. Fine clear night. No dew whatever.

18 March. (Ugogi.) Cool morn. Hot sun. No clouds. Pitched in gully,

where wind comes from every quarter. Mild night.

19 Halt. Day exactly as yesterday. Barometer at 10 a.m., 27.364; at

4 p.m., 27.310. Temperature at 10 a.m., 84°/82°; at 4 p.m.,

83°/85°. Sun sets in these hills at 4.45 p.m. Warm night.

20 Halt. Clear morn. Barometer at 10 a.m., 27.270; at 4 p.m.,

27.248. Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 82°/79°; at 4 p.m.,

85°/82°. Clouds. Cloudy in afternoon. Fine, clear, warm night.

Great sameness of climate.

21 Halt. Cloudy morn. Barometer at 10 a.m., 27.236; at 4 p.m.,

27.290. Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 76°/74°; at 4 p.m.,

78°/77°. Little wind. Drops of heat-rain at noon. Cloudy night.

Warm in tent.

22 Tirikeza. Clear day in morn. Barometer at 10 a.m., 27.240.

Temperature at 10 a.m., 76°/78°. Clouds at 10 till sunset. Then

all clear except mist-bank in W. Fine cool night. Cooler than

under hills. Wind E.

23 March. (Marenga M’Khali.) Clear morn. Wind E. at 9 and 10. Clouds

thin before noon; then pleasant. Cool night. In tent at dawn.

Therm., 51°.

24 Tirikeza. Perfectly clear dawn. Wind E. A few clouds at 1, which

increased till sunset. Cool wind (E.) at 4 p.m. Fine dewless

night.

25 Tirikeza. Clear dawn. Day cloudy. Wind E. In intervals hot sun.

Fine sunset. Cold night. Wind blowing, and dew considerable.

26 March. (Ziwa.) Clear dawn. Barometer at 10 a.m., 26.915; at 4

p.m., 26.900. Temperature of air at 10 a.m., 85°/84°; at 4 p.m.,

86°/87°. Cold morn. Fearful heat in tent (93°) about 2 to 4. Cold

blowy night. Dew heavy.

27 Halt. Clear dawn. Thinnest veil on horizon. Temperature of air at

10 a.m., 87°; at 4 p.m., 90°. Fearfully hot day. No shadow of

cloud. High wind. Tent blown down. Cold evening; then hot; then

cold towards morn. Wind E. Dew.

28 Halt. Clear dawn. Then sunrise, 54°. At 3 p.m., 95°. No mist on

cloud. Gusts from E. and N.E. Warm night. Cool towards dawn.

29 Halt. Clear dawn. Very hot. Cloudless. Wind E., and about 4 p.m.

veered round to N.E. Warm night. Windy night as usual. Cold dawn.

Heavy dew.

30 Ditto in all points.

REMARKS.—From Rumuma to Ugogo Plains. Air rarified. Extremes of heat

and cold. Clouds on hills and occasional showers. Very hot sun.

Breeze at 9 or 10. Gusts at night. Furious E. wind. Sometimes no

dew; sometimes dew like rain. Draft in descent to heated plains.

Ugogi, a new climate. Somaliland near Harar, or Upper Sind. Hot and

dry, dewless: wind and dust. Sky intensely blue; stars like young

moons. Very healthy. Ugogo similar. Great heat and cold. Dew

somewhat copious. No clouds. Furious E. wind from the hills.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT UGOGO, ETC., DURING THE MONTH

OF OCTOBER, 1857.

Therm. tied to hind pole of tent, opposite entrance, 2 feet from

ground.

DAY

1 Thermometer at sunrise, 66°; at noon, 91°; at 4 p.m., 94°; at

sunset, 84°. Direction of wind at sunrise, E. Fine dawn. Fiery

sun, cloudless. Heat gradually increased. Banks of thin clouds

about W. Furious wind at night. Cool dawn.

2 Thermometer at sunrise, 62°; at noon, 91°; at 4 p.m., 91°; at

sunset, 81°. Direction of wind at sunrise, E. Fine dawn. Fiery

sun, cloudless. Heat gradually increased. Clouds thicken. Wind

veers from S.W. to N.W. Blew hard at night.

3 Thermometer at sunrise, 63°; at noon, 90°. Direction of wind at

sunrise, E. and N.E. Windy morn.

4 Thermometer at sunrise, 66°; at noon, 76°; at 4 p.m., 91°; at

sunset, 82°. Direction of wind at sunrise, E. and S.E. Windy morn.

Fiery sun, cloudless. Heat gradually increased. Clouds. Wind

violent, and from every direction; fell at midnight.

5 Thermometer at sunrise. 70°. Direction of the wind at sunrise, E.

and S.E. Windy morn. Heat milder. Clouds. Clouds gathering. Wind

furious till 10 p.m. Close night.

6 Thermometer at sunrise, 70°. Direction of wind, E. and S.E. Sky

all covered. Shower about 8 a.m. Heat less. Clouds.

7 Fine morn. Wind from all round. Great heat. Thermometer at 4 p.m.,

94°. At night, wind till 10; then fell; then rose with moon. Tent

blown down at 3 p.m.

8 Fine clear dawn. No wind. Great heat. Whirlwind bad at night till

about 12 a.m.

9 Thermometer at sunrise, 68°. Clear dawn. No wind. Great heat.

10 March. Fine clear dawn. Hot morn. A few clouds. Breeze as usual

at 10. Very hot afternoon.

11 March. Cool dewy morn. Dark day. No rain. Clear as usual about

the afternoon. Cold wind. Feverish. Warm night.

12 Hot night. Cloudy day. Very close in the afternoon, with gusts of

cold wind.

13 Thermometer 54° in tent at sunrise. Cold morn. Hot wind at 10. A

few heat clouds. Pleasant and cool after midnight.

14 Cold morn. Intensely hot day. 97° at noon. No clouds. A little

wind from S.E. Fine clear evening. Cold gusts. S.E. wind at night.

15 Thermometer 61° in tent at sunrise. High wind outside; fell at

dawn; very cold; rose, as always does, between 8 and 9 a.m.; fell

at sunset (wind S.E.); fine night.—6-15. Winds high; rise from 8

to 10 a.m.; blow all day till sunset, very uncertain, generally E.

and S.E., also N. and W. A simoom on plains. Cold high winds at

night, yet healthy. All our sick recovered.

16 Thermometer at sunrise, 54° in tent, 49° outside; at noon,

101°/96°; at 4 p.m., 93°/93°; at sunset, 80°/81°. Fine dawn. Wind

moderate. Puffs of wind, S.E. Fine night.—Ugogo. Therm. always the

same, observed once.

17 March. Cold dawn. Fine morn. Fiery day. Few wind and heat clouds,

high up, which increased from W. (against wind) about 3 to 4 p.m.

Fine sunset and warm night. Breeze at 10 a.m.

18 Halt. Dawn, fair and cool. Thermometer at noon, 89°/93°; at 4

p.m., 89°/90°. Hot day. No clouds. Fine clear even. At night,

coldish wind from S.E.

19 Thermometer at sunrise, 52°/53°. Cold dawn. Hot cloudless day.

Fiery wind in gusts. Fine clear sunset, 82° out of tent, 81° in

it. Wind E. and S.E. as usual.

20 March. Cold dawn. Hot day. No clouds. Fine cirri, high up. Fine

clear sunset. At night, raw E. wind.

21 March. Cold dawn. Clouds at 9 a.m. Cleared away in evening.

Windless night.—Gunda M.

22 Jiwe la Mkoa. Clouds at 9 a.m. E. wind all night.

23 March. Kirurumo. Hot morning. Cloudy about 10. Yet burning sun.

Fine afternoon. In evening heavy nimbus from W. E. wind. Spitting

rain all night. Very cool and pleasant. Thunder and sheet

lightning.

24 Clouds and cold. 70° at 7 a.m. About 1, sun struggled through.

Mgongo. Thunder at 3 to 4 p.m. Heavy thunder. Rain from 7 to 9

p.m. E. wind, but clouds from W. Clouded again. Air full of damp

cold wind at sunset.

25 Cloudy raw morn. Sun half out at 10 a.m. Raw day. Clear fine

night. Very cold. Wind E., but not high.

26 High cirri in morn. Cold and high wind. Day hot. Fine warm night.

27 Burning day. Cumulus in even. Wind E.

28 Cool morn. High E. wind at 8. Plenty of clouds. Pleasant day.

High wind; rose again after sunset till midnight. At sunset in

shed, 81°.

29 Thermometer at sunrise, 65° in shed. Cool morn, 84° in shed, 94°

in sun. High E. wind at 8 a.m. Hot day. In morn heavy clouds from

W., but high. Night at first warm and cloudy, then cool and clear.

Trees bent by wind. Never saw this before.

30 Clear dawn. Fiery day. Simoom gusts at 11. Cool in house, 81° and

82°. Heavy clouds from N. No wind, but direction S.E. Warm fine

night. High cumuli. Cool fine midnight to dawn.

31 Cloudy dawn. Cool pleasant day. Beautiful evening and warmish

night.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT UNYANYEMBE, ETC., DURING THE MONTH OF NOVEMBER,

1857.

--------------

DAY

1 Cloudless dawn, windless. Wind and clouds from E. Cumuli in

afternoon. Tolerably clear sunset. Fine moonlight night. Warm and

pleasant.

2 Rubuga. Cloudless dawn, windless. Wind and clouds from E. Cumuli

after noon. At moonrise cloud and mists, 7 p.m. from S. Then cool

E. wind with moon.

3 Cloudless dawn, windless. Very hot day. Cumuli and wind bound

up. Cloudy night, cool and comfortable.

4 Ukona. Cloudless morn till 7; then cleared away. Sun hot, and

cold wind. Cumuli in day, high up. Fine cool even at dawn. Few

clouds, cirri. Wind E. and S.

5 Cloudless morn. High E. and S. wind at 7 a.m.; then fell. Cool

night and clear.

6 Unyanyembe. Cloudless morn. Moderate E. wind at 7 and 8. Cloudy

day. Cumuli nearly over sky. Wind N.E. and E. during forenoon;

veered S. and even W. with sun, and returns E. at night.

7 Too sick to observe.

8 Ditto.

9 Verandah, facing E. Thermometer at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 91°;

at sunset, 87°. Cool cloudless dawn. Cloudy, but very close.

Profuse perspiration. Pleasant cloudless even. High S.E. wind at

night.

10 Verandah, facing E. Thermometer at sunrise, 70°; at sunset,

132°. Cool cloudless dawn. Almost cloudless. In sun at 3 p.m.

Pleasant even. Filmy night. Little wind.

11 Verandah, facing E. Thermometer at sunrise, 71°; at noon, 120°

in sun; at sunset, 81°. Cool cloudless dawn. Exceedingly hot and

close. Pleasant even, but clouds gathering.

12 Thermometer at sunrise, 71°. Cloudy, as if for rain. Warm day.

Fine even, but clouds high up, showing wind. Rain expected.

13 Fine dawn. Clouds during day. Exceedingly hot. Rain wanted and

expected. Moon and stars halved.

14 Thermometer at sunrise, 79° in tent; at noon, 83° in tent; at

sunset, 85° in tent. Fine dawn. Fiery day. Signs of rain.

Lightning from Azyab, N.E., disappears.

15 Thermometer at sunrise, 78°; at noon, 92°; 89° in even.

Verandah, facing E. Very hot cloudy day. Rain at 3 p.m.; and at

night; very little fell.

16 Thermometer at sunrise, 72°; at noon, 92°; at sunset, 91°.

Verandah, facing E. Clear dawn. Very hot. People expect rain with

this heat. Very clear night. Wind E.

17 Fine dawn. Thermometer at 10 a.m. 90° in verandah (E.); at 4

p.m., 91°. Climate too uniform for Europeans. Cloudy day. Rained

for about 1 hour at night.

18 Cloudy day. Exceedingly hot. Thunder all afternoon till night.

No Hilal seen yet. Cool, clear, and pleasant night.

19 Bright dawn. (Sick.)

20 Bright dawn. Clouds during day. Rain in afternoon, and high

wind.

21 Clear dawn.

22 Thunder and rain at 3 p.m.

23 Thunder all afternoon. Rain at 3 p.m.

24 Rain at 11 a.m. and 3 p.m. Wind from W., cold, raw, and damp.

The storms from Azyab, N.E. Cloudy all day. Rain, thunder, and

lightning all night.

25 Cloudy dawn and forenoon. Storm at night, 7 to 9.

26 Cloudy. Thunder and storm at 4 p.m. Violent rain and storm,

distant about 3 miles, at night. No wind.

27 Cloudy day and dawn. All looks like rain. Grumbling of low

thunder all day.

28 Very cloudy dawn. Cleared at 8.

29 Violent rain at night. Surly weather. Signs of rain, flying

ants.

30 Thermometer at sunrise, 80° in verandah. Clear cool day, a few

clouds. Rain in evening.

31 Too sick to observe.

REMARKS.—Air of Unyanyembe intensely dry; sometimes does not rain

for months. Soil fertile by proximity of water; rains every 15 or 16

days. Lightning from S.E. We had very steady rain. Thunder and

lightning like chota barsát in Upper India. About the 30th inst.

country well sopped. All began to plant; rice about end of month,

and Jawari after.

Rain, as at Zanzibar, every day. Generally deep cloudy morns. Cold

wind, and very damp. Therm. 70°. Sun at 10 a.m., hot. Clouds

partially dispersed. About 2 p.m. showers, with thunder and

lightning, increase till dark, when become very violent. Bolts fell

one night. Climate unwholesome as the Kinga-ni river. Almost all our

men had fever. Wind generally E., but changing to S.W.

This rain in Dec. is called Muaka, or the year. We experienced it on

the coast, in the Elphinstone, and the Riami. All are cultivating.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT UNYAMWEZI LAND, KAZEH, AND ZIMBILI, DURING THE

MONTH OF DECEMBER, 1857.

--------------

DAY

1 to 15 Uyanyembe and Kapunde. Too sick to observe. Climate

precisely the same.

16 Thermometer at sunrise, 70° in tent. Rain at 2 p.m. Thunder and

lightning. Night cool and cloudy. Day cold. Want very warm

clothing. Wind raw.

17 Thermometer at sunrise, 70°. Cloudy morn.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT UJIJI, ON THE LAKE TANGANIKA, DURING THE MONTH

OF APRIL, 1858.

--------------

DAY

1 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 71°; at 12, 75°; at 6 p.m., 76°. Means of

‘Cox’ and pocket therm.

2 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 71°; at 12, 73°; at 6 p.m., 73°.

3 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 68°; at 12, 76°; at 6 p.m., 75°. Cool day.

Heavy clouds. No rain.

4 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 69°; at 12, 79°; at 6 p.m., 77°. Fine clear

day. No rain.

5 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 69°; at 12, 78°; at 6 p.m., 77°. Fine day,

showing that monsoon is drawing to close.

6 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 69°; at 12, 80°; at 6 p.m., 76°. Fine day.

7 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 70°; at 12, 80°; at 6 p.m., 76°. Fine day.

8 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 68°; at 12, 78°; at 6 p.m., 76°. Weather

exceedingly damp. No rain.

9 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 70°; at 12, 76°; at 6 p.m., 76°. Started

for Uvira. Twice rain in night.

10 Thunder, lightning, and rain, all day. Very damp and cold on

Lake.

11 Violent rains and E. wind all night; tent blown down. Raw cold.

12 Heavy rain in midday and hot sun. Damp excessive.

13 On Lake.

14 Ditto.

15 Sun very hot. Morn and even clouded with nimbus.

16 Cold, not of low temperature, but humid atmosphere. Fiery sun and

rain during day.

17 Alternate bursts of burning sun and cold. Rain all day.

18 Purple clouds from N., sign of heavy rain, showers occasional.

19 On sea, smooth at first. Fine sky. About 9 a.m. wind sprang up.

Hot sun. Heavy dew.

20 Fine, hot, rainless day.

21 Fine, hot, rainless day. Even perfectly clear.

22 Cold, raw, and uncomfortable.

23 Fine day and night. S.E. wind at 7 p.m. Heavy nimbi after

midnight. Rain at sunrise.

24 Fine day.

25 Fine day. S.E. wind, raw at night.

26 Clear day. W. wind, high. Waves foaming. Heavy dew. No clouds.

27 Clear and windy. Driven off sands by sea rising.

28 Fine day. Occasionally cloudy. No rain.

29 Fine day. Occasionally cloudy. No rain.

30 Fine day. Occasionally cloudy. No rain.

31 Violent rains in night and all morning.

REMARKS.—Rains at Kazeh, began on 14th November.

At Ujiji about 2 months earlier. At Msene 1 month earlier.

Not heavy at first; no burst of monsoon, as in India, but invariably

accompanied by violent thunder and lightning.

The sun of the rains is considered very sickly; it burns with a

violent and nauseating heat, truly uncomfortable.

The wind during this month, N. after midnight till sunrise, when it

becomes raw and cold. During the day warmer, and veered round to

S.E. This was constant point. In evenings, and often at nights, it

became a complete blast.

Direction of rain in Ujiji, generally either from N., from S.E., and

from S.W. But it was, as everywhere, very variable. The S.E. and E.

wind seems to prevail everywhere, from Ugogo to the Lake.

OBSERVATIONS MADE AT UNYANYEMBE, LAT. S. 5° 4′ 12″, ALT. 3436 ABOVE

S. L., DURING THE MONTH OF JUNE, 1858.

‘Cox’ hung in verandah. See Sept. (same place).

--------------

DAY

1 Rusigi River. Cold and very dewy morn. Hot sun. Few cumuli and

cirri.

2 Hot day. Clouds at noon. Fine, clear, and cold night.

3 Cold morn. Hot sunny day.

4 Slight shock of earthquake at 11.15 a.m. Fine hot day.

5 Fine, hot, and breezy morn. Wind, as usual, E.

6 Fine, hot, and breezy morn.

7 Muggy and cloudy night. Hot sun till clouded at noon. Air still.

Splendid night.

8 Cool morn. Usual raw wind. Splendid night.

9 Cool morn. Raw high wind at noon. Fleecy clouds.

10 Splendid night. Cool morn. Raw high wind at noon. Fleecy

clouds.

11 Cold wind and burning sun all day.

12 Cold wind and burning sun all day.

13 Slight shocks of earthquakes at repeated intervals.

14 Misty morn. Hot clear day. Cloudy even.

15 Misty morn. Hot clear day. Cloudy even.

16 Cold morn. Stinging sun.

17 Cold morn. Stinging sun.

18 Cold morn. Stinging sun. Raw wind at 10 a.m. Light breezes

during day.

19 Kazeh. Cold morning. Stinging sun.

20 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 67°; at 12, 83°; at 6 p.m., 80°. Nothing

remarkable, but cold E. wind.

21 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 66°; at 12, 83°; at 6 p.m., 78°. Same

remark.

22 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 63°; at 12, 83°; at 6 p.m., 78°.

23 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 64°; at 12, 80°; at 6 p.m., 78°. Weather

the same. Air exceedingly dry. At dawn a cold W. breeze that

chills the blood. About 10 a.m. changes E.

24 Thermometer at 6 a.m., 66°; at 12, 86°; at 6 p.m., 80°. Raw and

violent E. wind, which causes abundant sickness. Day clear till 1

p.m., then cloudy.