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[Drawing: . . .] indicates a hand-drawn Illustration
IN AFRICA
Hunting Adventures in the Big Game Country
by
JOHN T. McCUTCHEON
Cartoonist of the Chicago Tribune
Illustrated with Photographs and Cartoons by the Author
[Photograph: By courtesy of W.D. Boyce. One Morning's Bag]
Indianapolis
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
Publishers
Copyright 1910
The Tribune Company, Chicago
Copyright 1910
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
Press of
Braunworth & Co.
Bookbinders and Printers
Brooklyn, N.Y.
TO THOSE ADVENTUROUS SOULS WHO
RESENT THE RESTRAINT OF THE BEATEN PATH
THESE OBSERVATIONS OF AN AMATEUR
ARE DEDICATED
PREFATORY NOTE
This collection of African stories has no pretentious purpose. It is
merely the record of a most delightful hunting trip into those
fascinating regions along the Equator, where one may still have
"thrilling adventures" and live in a story-book atmosphere, where the
"roar of the lion" and the "crack of the rifle" are part of the
every-day life, and where in a few months one may store up enough
material to keep the memory pleasantly occupied all the rest of a
lifetime. The stories are descriptive of a four-and-a-half months' trip
in the big game country and pretend to no more serious purpose than
merely to relate the experiences of a self-confessed amateur under such
conditions.
JOHN T. McCUTCHEON
_August, 1910_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE Page
The Preparation for Departure. Experiences with Willing
Friends and Advisers 1
CHAPTER TWO
The First Half of the Voyage. From Naples to the Red Sea,
with a Few Side-Lights on Indian Ocean Travel 13
CHAPTER THREE
The Island of Mombasa, with the Jungles of Equatorial Africa
"Only a Few Blocks Away." A Story of the World's Champion
Man-Eating Lions 28
CHAPTER FOUR
On the Edge of the Athi Plains, Face to Face with Herds of
Wild Game. Up in a Balloon at Nairobi 43
CHAPTER FIVE
Into the Heart of the Big Game Country with a Retinue of
More Than One Hundred Natives. A Safari and What It Is 65
CHAPTER SIX
A Lion Drive. With a Rhino in Range Some One Shouts
"Simba" and I Get My First Glimpse of a Wild Lion. Three
Shots and Out 82
CHAPTER SEVEN
On the Tana River, the Home of the Rhino. The Timid are
Frightened, the Dangerous Killed, and Others Photographed.
Moving Pictures of a Rhino Charge 105
CHAPTER EIGHT
Meeting Colonel Roosevelt in the Uttermost Outpost of
Semi-Civilization. He Talks of Many Things, Hears that he has
Been Reported Dead, and Promptly Plans an Elephant Hunt 123
CHAPTER NINE
The Colonel Reads Macaulay's "Essays," Discourses on Many
Subjects with Great Frankness, Declines a Drink of Scotch
Whisky, and Kills Three Elephants 141
CHAPTER TEN
Elephant Hunting Not an Occasion for Lightsome Merrymaking.
Five Hundred Thousand Acres of Forest in Which the
Kenia Elephant Lives, Wanders and Brings Up His Children 164
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nine Days Without Seeing an Elephant. The Roosevelt
Party Departs and We March for the Mountains on Our Big
Elephant Hunt. The Policeman of the Plains 184
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Twas the Day Before Christmas." Photographing a Charging
Elephant, Cornering a Wounded Elephant in a River Jungle
Growth. A Thrilling Charge. Hassan's Courage 201
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
In the Swamps of the Guas Ngishu. Beating for Lions We
Came Upon a Strange and Fascinating Wild Beast, Which
Became Attached to Our Party. The Little Wanderobo Dog 214
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Who's Who in Jungleland. The Hartebeest and the Wildebeest,
the Amusing Giraffe and the Ubiquitous Zebra, the
Lovely Gazelle and the Gentle Impalla 233
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Some Natural History in Which it is Revealed that a Sing-Sing
Waterbuck is Not a Singing Topi, and that a Topi is Not
a Species of Head-dress 251
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the Tall Grass of the Mount Elgon Country. A Narrow
Escape from a Long-Horned Rhino. A Thanksgiving Dinner
and a Visit to a Native Village 269
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Up and Down the Mountain Side from the Ketosh Village to
the Great Cave of Bats. A Dramatic Episode with the Finding
of a Black Baby as a Climax 291
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Electric Lights, Motor-Cars and Fifteen Varieties of Wild
Game. Chasing Lions Across the Country in a Carriage 313
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The Last Word in Lion Hunting. Methods of Trailing, Ensnaring
and Otherwise Outwitting the King of Beasts. A
Chapter of Adventures 325
CHAPTER TWENTY
Abdullah the Cook and Some Interesting Gastronomic Experiences.
Thirteen Tribes Represented in the Safari. Abdi's
Story of His Uncle and the Lions 341
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Back Home from Africa. Ninety Days on the Way Through
India, Java, China, Manila and Japan. Three Chow Dogs and
a Final Series of Amusing Adventures 360
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ways and Means. What to Take and What Not to Take. Information
for Those that Wish, Intend or Hope to Hunt in the
African Highlands 384
IN AFRICA
CHAPTER I
THE PREPARATION FOR DEPARTURE. EXPERIENCES WITH WILLING FRIENDS AND
ADVISERS
Ever since I can remember, almost, I have cherished a modest ambition to
hunt lions and elephants. At an early age, or, to be more exact, at
about that age which finds most boys wondering whether they would rather
be Indian fighters or sailors, I ran across a copy of Stanley's _Through
the Dark Continent_. It was full of fascinating adventures. I thrilled
at the accounts which spoke in terms of easy familiarity of "express"
rifles and "elephant" guns, and in my vivid but misguided imagination, I
pictured an elephant gun as a sort of cannon--a huge, unwieldy
arquebus--that fired a ponderous shell. The old woodcuts of daring
hunters and charging lions inspired me with unrest and longing--the
longing to bid the farm farewell and start down the road for Africa.
Africa! What a picture it conjured up in my fancy! Then, as even now, it
symbolized a world of adventurous possibilities; and in my boyhood
fancy, it lay away off there--somewhere--vaguely--beyond mountains and
deserts and oceans, a vast, mysterious, unknown land, that swarmed with
inviting dangers and alluring romance.
One by one my other youthful ambitions have been laid away. I have given
up hope of ever being an Indian fighter out on the plains, because the
pesky redskins have long since ceased to need my strong right arm to
quell them. I also have yielded up my ambition to be a sailor, or
rather, that branch of the profession in which I hoped to
specialize--piracy--because, for some regretful reason, piracy has lost
much of its charm in these days of great liners. There is no treasure to
search for any more, and the golden age of the splendid clipper ships,
with their immense spread of canvas, has given way to the unromantic age
of the grimy steamer, about which there is so little to appeal to the
imagination. Consequently, lion hunting is about the only thing
left--except wars, and they are few and far between.
And so, after suffering this "lion-hunting" ambition to lie fallow for
many years, I at last reached a day when it seemed possible to realize
it. The chance came in a curiously unexpected way. Mr. Akeley, a man
famed in African hunting exploits, was to deliver a talk before a little
club to which I belonged. I went, and as a result of my thrilled
interest in every word he said, I met him and talked with him and
finally was asked to join a new African expedition that he had in
prospect. With the party were to be Mrs. Akeley, with a record of
fourteen months in the big game country, and Mr. Stephenson, a hunter
with many years of experience in the wild places of the United States,
Canada and Mexico. My hunting experience had been chiefly gained in my
library, but for some strange reason, it did not seem incongruous that I
should begin my real hunting in a lion and elephant country.
[Drawing: _Getting Ready for Lion Shooting_]
I had all the prowess of a Tartarin, and during the five months that
elapsed before I actually set forth, I went about my daily work with a
mind half dazed with the delicious consciousness that I was soon to
become a lion hunter. I feared that modern methods might have taken away
much of the old-time romance of the sport, but I felt certain that there
was still to be something left in the way of excitement and adventure.
The succeeding pages of this book contain the chronicle of the nine
delightful months that followed my departure from America.
In the middle of August Mr. Stephenson and I arrived in London. Mr.
Akeley had ordered most of our equipment by letter, but there still
remained many things to be done, and for a week or more we were busy
from morning till night.
It is amazing how much stuff is required to outfit a party of four
people for an African shooting expedition of several months' duration.
First in importance come the rifles, then the tents and camp equipment,
then the clothes and boots, then the medical supplies, and finally the
food. Perhaps the food might be put first in importance, but just now,
after a hearty dinner, it seems to be the least important detail.
Many men outfitting for an African campaign among wild animals secure
their outfits in London. It is there, in modest little shops, that one
gets the weapons that are known to sportsmen from one end of the world
to the other--weapons designed expressly for the requirements of African
shooting, and which have long stood the test of hard, practical service.
For two days we haunted these famous gun-makers' shops, and for two days
I made a magnificent attempt to look learnedly at things about which I
knew little.
[Drawing: _Practising in the Museum_]
At last, after many hours of gun shopping, attended by the constant
click of a taxicab meter, I assembled such an imposing arsenal that I
was nervous whenever I thought about it. With such a battery it was a
foregone conclusion that something, or somebody, was likely to get hurt.
I hoped that it would be something, and not somebody.
The old-time "elephant gun" which shot an enormous ball and a staggering
charge of black powder has given way to the modern double-barreled
rifle, with its steel bullet and cordite powder. It is not half so heavy
or clumsy as the old timers, but its power and penetration are
tremendous. The largest of this modern type is the .650 cordite--that
is, it shoots a bullet six hundred and fifty thousandths of an inch in
diameter, and has a frightful recoil. This weapon is prohibitive on
account of its recoil, and few, if any, sportsmen now care to carry one.
The most popular type is the .450 and .475 cordite double-barreled
ejector, hammerless rifles, and these are the ones that every elephant
hunter should have.
We started out with the definite purpose of getting three .450s--one for
Mr. Akeley, one for Mr. Stephenson, and one for myself; also three
nine-millimeter (.375) Mannlichers and two .256 Mannlichers. What we
really got were three .475 cordites, two nine-millimeter Mannlichers,
one eight-millimeter Mauser, and two .256 Mannlichers. We were switched
off the .450s because a government regulation forbids the use of that
caliber in Uganda, although it is permitted in British East Africa, and
so we played safe by getting the .475s. This rifle is a heavy gun that
carries a bullet large enough to jolt a fixed star and recoil enough to
put one's starboard shoulder in the hospital for a day or so.
Theoretically, the sportsman uses this weapon in close quarters, and
with a bullet placed according to expert advice sees the charging lion,
rhino or elephant turn a back somersault on his way to kingdom come. It
has a tremendous impact and will usually stop an animal even if the
bullet does not kill it. The bullets of a smaller rifle may kill the
animal, but not stop it at once. An elephant or lion, with a small
bullet in its heart, may still charge for fifty or one hundred yards
before it falls. Hence the necessity for a rifle that will shock as well
as penetrate.
[Drawing: _Advice from a Cheerful Stranger_]
Several experienced African lion hunters strongly advise taking a
"paradox," which in their parlance is affectionately called a
"cripple-stopper." It looks like what one would suppose an elephant gun
to look like. Its weight is staggering, and it shoots a solid ball,
backed up by a fearful charge of cordite. They use it under the
following conditions: Suppose that a big animal has been wounded and not
instantly killed. It at once assumes the aggressive, and is savage
beyond belief. The pain of the wound infuriates it and its one object in
life is to get at the man who shot it. It charges in a well-nigh
irresistible rush, and no ordinary bullet can stop it unless placed in
one or two small vital spots. Under the circumstances the hunter may not
be able to hold his rifle steady enough to hit these aforesaid spots.
That is when the paradox comes in. The hunter points it in a general way
in the direction of the oncoming beast, pulls the trigger and hopes for
the best. The paradox bullet hits with the force of a sledge hammer, and
stuns everything within a quarter of a mile, and the hunter turns
several back somersaults from the recoil and fades into bruised
unconsciousness.
We decided not to get the paradox, preferring to trust to hitting the
small vital spots rather than transport the weapon by hand through long
tropical marches.
The nine-millimeter rifles were said to be large enough for nearly all
purposes, but not reassuring in extremely close quarters. The .256
Mannlichers are splendid for long range shooting, as they carry a small
bore bullet and have enormous penetrating power.
The presumption, therefore, was that we should first shoot the lion at
long range with the .256, then at a shorter range with the
nine-millimeter, then at close range with the .475 cordite, and then
perhaps fervently wish that we had the paradox or a balloon.
After getting our arsenal, we then had to get the cartridges, all done
up in tin boxes of a weight not exceeding sixty pounds, that being the
limit of weight which the African porter is expected to carry. There
were several thousand rounds of ammunition, but this did not mean that
several thousand lions were to be killed. Allowing for a fair percentage
of misses, we calculated, if lucky, to get one or two lions.
After getting our rifles and ammunition under satisfactory headway, we
then saw that our seventy-two "chop" boxes of food were sure to be ready
in time to catch our steamer at Southampton.
And yet these preliminary details did not half conclude our shopping
preliminaries in London. There were camping rugs, blankets, cork
mattresses, pillows and pillow cases, bed bags, towels, lanterns,
mosquito boots, whetstones, hunting and skinning knives, khaki helmets,
pocket tapes to measure trophies, Pasteur anti-venomous serum,
hypodermic syringes, chairs, tables, cots, puttees, sweaters, raincoats,
Jaeger flannels, socks and pajamas, cholera belts, Burberry hunting
clothes, and lots of other little odds and ends that seemed to be
necessary.
The clothes were put up in air-proof tin uniform cases, small enough to
be easily carried by a porter and secure enough to keep out the millions
of ants that were expected to seek habitation in them.
[Drawing: _Part of the Equipment_]
Most of our equipment, especially the food supplies, had been ordered by
letter, and these we found to be practically ready. The remaining
necessities, guns, ammunition, camera supplies, medical supplies,
clothes, helmets, and so on, we assembled after two days of prodigious
hustling. There was nothing then to be done except to hope that all our
mountainous mass of equipment would be safely installed on the steamer
for Mombasa. This steamer, the _Adolph Woermann_, sailed from Hamburg on
the fourteenth of August, was due at Southampton on the eighteenth and
at Naples on the thirtieth. To avoid transporting the hundred cases of
supplies overland to Naples, it was necessary to get them to Southampton
on the eighteenth. It was a close shave, for only by sending them down
by passenger train on that morning were they able to reach Southampton.
Fortunately our hopes were fulfilled, and at last we received word that
they were on board and were careening down toward Naples, where we
expected to join them on the thirtieth.
[Drawing: Map]
[Drawing: Map]
[Drawing: _Studying the Lion's Vital Spots_]
After disposing of this important preliminary, we then had time to visit
the zoo at South Kensington and the British museum of natural history,
where we carefully studied many of the animals that we hoped to meet
later under less formal conditions. We picked out the vital spots, as
seen from all angles, and nothing then remained to be done but to get
down to British East Africa with our rifles and see whether we could hit
those vital spots.
Mr. Akeley had an elaborate moving picture machine and we planned to get
some excellent pictures of charging animals. The lion, rhino or other
subject was to be allowed to charge within a few feet of the camera and
then with a crack of our trusty rifles he was supposed to stop. We
seemed safe in assuming, even without exaggeration, that this would be
exciting.
It was at least that.
At last we said farewell to London, a one-sided ceremony, stopped at
Rheims to see the aviators, joined the Akeleys at Paris, and after
touching a few of the high spots in Europe, arrived in Naples in ample
time to catch our boat for Mombasa.