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
After one has been in British East Africa two months he begins to
readjust his preconceived ideas to fit real conditions. He discovers
that nothing is really as bad as he feared it would be, and that
distance, as usual, has magnified the terrors of a far-away land. In
spite of the fact that he is in the heart of a primitive country,
surrounded by native tribes that still are mystified by a glass mirror,
and perhaps many days' march from the nearest white person, he still may
feel that he is in touch with the great world outside. His mail reaches
him somehow or other, even if he is in the center of some vast unsettled
district devoid of roads or trails.
How it is done is a mystery; but the fact remains that every once in a
while a black man appears as by magic and hands one a package containing
letters and telegrams. He is a native "runner," whose business it is to
find you wherever you may be, and he does it, no matter how long it may
take him. A telegram addressed to any sportsman in East Africa would
reach him if only addressed with his name and the words "British East
Africa." There are only four or five thousand white residents in the
whole protectorate, and the names of these are duly catalogued and known
to the post-office officials both in Mombasa and Nairobi.
[Photograph: _In the Forest_]
If a strange name appears on a letter or despatch, inquiries are made
and the identity of the stranger is quickly established. If he is a
sportsman, the outfitters in Nairobi will know who he is. They will have
equipped him with porters and the other essentials of a caravan, and
they will know exactly in which section of the protectorate he is
hunting. So the letter is readdressed in care of the _boma_ or
government station, nearest to that section. The letter duly arrives at
the _boma_, and a native runner is told to go out and deliver the
message. He starts off, and by inquiry of other natives and by relying
on a natural instinct that is little short of marvelous he ultimately
finds the object of his search and delivers his message.
If you look at a map of British East Africa you will be amazed at the
number of names that are marked upon it. You would quite naturally think
that the country was rather thickly settled, whereas in fact there are
very few places of settlement away from the single line of railroad that
runs from Mombasa to Victoria Nyanza. The protectorate is divided into
subdistricts, each one of which has a capital, or _boma_, as it is
called. This _boma_ usually consists of a white man's residence, a
little post-office, one or two Indian stores where all the necessities
of a simple life may be procured, and a number of native grass huts.
There is usually a small detachment of askaris, or native soldiers, who
are necessary to enforce the law, repress any native uprising, and
collect the hut tax of one dollar a year that is imposed upon each
household in the district.
Other names on the map may look important, but will prove to be only
streams, or hills, or some landmarks that have been used by the
surveyors to signify certain places. In our five weeks' trip through
Trans-Tanaland we found only two _bomas_, Fort Hall and Embo, and three
or four ranches where one or more white men lived. In our expedition to
Mount Elgon we encountered only two places where the mark of
civilization showed--Eldoma Ravine and Sergoi. In the former place the
only white man was the subcommissioner, and in the latter there was one
policeman, and a general store kept by a South African. A number of Boer
settlers are scattered over the plateau, trying to reclaim little
sections of land from its primitive state.
Between Sergoi and Londiani, on the railroad, ninety miles south, there
is one little store where caravans may buy food for porters and some of
the simpler necessities that white men may require. All the rest of the
country for thousands of square miles is given up to the lion and zebra
and the vast herds of antelope that feed upon the rich grass of the
plateau.
Yet in spite of the sparsity of settlement the native runner manages to
find you, even after days of traveling, without compass or directions to
aid him.
[Photograph: By courtesy of W.D. Boyce. An Askari Who Looked Like a
Tragedian]
[Photograph: By courtesy of W.D. Boyce. Mr. Akeley]
Hunters who come to East Africa usually are sent to certain districts
where game is known to be abundant. These districts are well defined and
oftentimes there may be a number of _safaris_ in them at the same time,
but so large are the districts that one group of hunters very rarely
encroaches upon the others.
Some parties are sent to Mount Kilima-Njaro, in the vicinity of which
there is good hunting. Others are sent out from points along the
railroad for certain classes of game that may be found only in those
spots. Simba, on the railroad, is a favorite place for those who are
after the yellow-maned or "plains" lion. Muhorini, also on the railroad,
is a favorite place for those who want the roan antelope; Naivasha is a
good place for hippo, and south of Kijabe, in what is called the Sotik,
is a district where nearly all sorts of game abound. The Tana River is a
favorite place for rhino, buffalo, nearly all sorts of antelope, and
some lion; Mount Kenia is an elephant hunting ground, and the Aberdare
Range, between Kenia and Naivasha, also is good for elephant. North of
Kenia is the Guas Nyiro River, a rich district for game of many kinds.
And so the country is divided up into sections that are sure to attract
many sporting parties who desire certain kinds of game.
Our first expedition out from Nairobi was across the Athi Plains to the
Tana River and Mount Kenia, a wonderful trip for those who are willing
to take chances with the fever down the Tana River. In five weeks we saw
lion, rhino, buffalo, and elephant--the four groups of animals that are
called "royal game"; also hippo, giraffe, eland, wildebeest, and many
varieties of smaller game. It is doubtful whether there is any other
section of East Africa where one could have a chance for so many
different species of game in such a short time as the Tana River
country.
For our second expedition we selected the Guas Ngishu Plateau, the Nzoia
River, and Mount Elgon. It is a long trip which involves elaborate
preparation and some difficulty in keeping up supplies for the camp and
the porters. It is the most promising place, however, for black-maned
lion and elephant, and on account of these two capital prizes in the
lottery of big game hunting occasional parties are willing to venture
the time and expense necessary to reach this district.
We disembarked, or "detrained," as they say down there, at a little
station on the railroad called Londiani, eight miles south of the
equator and about eighty miles from Victoria Nyanza. Then with two
transport wagons drawn by thirty oxen, our horses for "galloping" lions,
and one hundred porters, we marched north, always at an altitude of from
seventy-five hundred to ninety-two hundred feet, through vast forests
that stretched for miles on all sides. The country was beautiful beyond
words--clean, wholesome, and vast. In many places the scenery was as
trim, and apparently as finished as sections of the wooded hills and
meadows of Surrey. One might easily imagine oneself in a great private
estate where landscape gardeners had worked for years.
[Drawing: _One of the Transport Wagons_]
At night the cold was keen and four blankets were necessary the night we
camped two miles from the equator. In the day the sun was hot in the
midday hours, but never unpleasantly so. After two days of marching
through forests and across great grassy folds in the earth we reached
Eldoma Ravine, a subcommissioner's _boma_ that looks for all the world
like a mountain health resort. From the hill upon which the station is
situated one may look across the Great Rift Valley, two thousand feet
below, and stretching away for miles across, like a Grand Cañon of
Arizona without any mountains in it. Strong stone walls protect the
white residence, for this is a section of the country that has suffered
much from native uprisings during the last few years. We called on the
solitary white resident one evening, and, true to the creed of the
Briton, he had dressed for dinner. The sight of a man in a dinner-coat
miles from a white man and leagues from a white woman was something to
remember and marvel at.
Northward from Eldoma Ravine for days we marched, sometimes in dense
forests so thick that a man could scarcely force himself through the
undergrowth that flanked the trail, and sometimes through upland meadows
so deep in tall yellow grass as to suggest a field of waving grain, then
through miles of country studded with the gnarled thorn tree that looks
so much like our apple trees at home. It was as though we were
traversing an endless orchard, clean, beautiful, and exhilarating in the
cool winds of the African highlands. And then, all suddenly, we came to
the end of the trees, and before us, like a great, heaving yellow sea,
lay the Guas Ngishu Plateau that stretches northward one hundred miles
and always above seven thousand feet in altitude.
Far ahead, like a little knob of blue, was Sergoi Hill, forty miles
away, and beyond, in a fainter blue, were the hills that mark the limit
of white man's passport. On the map that district is marked: "Natives
probably treacherous." Off to the left, a hundred miles away, the dim
outline of Mount Elgon rose in easy slopes from the horizon. Elgon, with
its elephants, was our goal, and in between were the black-maned lions
that we hoped to meet.
It would be hard to exaggerate the charm of this climate. And yet this,
one thought, was equatorial Africa, which, in the popular imagination,
is supposed to be synonymous with torrential rains, malignant fevers,
and dense jungles of matted vegetation. It was more like the friendly
stretches of Colorado scenery at the time of year when the grasses of
the valley are dotted with flowers of many colors and the sun shines
down upon you with genial warmth.
[Drawing: _A Night on the Equator_]
Each morning we marched ten or twelve miles and then went into camp near
some little stream. In the afternoon we hunted for lions, beating out
swamps, scouting every bit of cover and combing the tall grass for hours
at a time. Hartebeest, topi, zebra, eland, oribi, reedbuck, and small
grass antelope were upon all sides and at all times.
The herds of zebra and hartebeest literally numbered thousands, but,
except as the latter were occasionally required for food for the
porters, we seldom tried to shoot them. Every Boer settler we saw was
interviewed and every promising lion clue was followed to the bitter
end, but without result. Sometimes we remained in one camp a day or more
in order to search the lion retreats more thoroughly, but never a
black-maned lion was routed from his lair. A few weeks later, when the
dry grass had been burned to make way for new grass, as is done each
year, the chances would be greatly improved, and we hoped for better
luck when we retraced our steps from Elgon in December. Before that time
it would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack to find a lion in
the tall grass, and a good deal more dangerous if we did find one. There
were lots of them there, but they were taking excellent care of
themselves. In July, three months previous, Mr. McMillan, Mr. Selous,
and Mr. Williams were in this same district after black-maned lions.
They heard them every night, but saw only one in several weeks. This
one, however, made a distinct impression. Williams saw it one day and
wounded it at two hundred yards. The lion charged and could not be
stopped by Williams' bullets. It was only after it had leaped on the
hunter and frightfully mauled him that the lion succumbed to its wounds.
And it was only after months of suffering that Williams finally
recovered from the mauling.
We felt that if Frederick Selous, the world's greatest big game hunter,
could not find the lion, then our chances were somewhat slim.
[Drawing: _Lion Hunting in Tall Grass_]
There had been few parties in this district since McMillan's party left.
Captain Ashton came in two months before us, and we met him on his way
out. With him was Captain Black, a professional elephant hunter, who,
three years before, on the Aberdare, had had a bad experience with an
elephant. It was a cow that he had wounded but failed to kill. She
charged him and knocked him down in a pile of very thick and matted
brush. Three times she trampled him under her feet, but the bushes
served as a kind of mattress and the captain escaped with only a few
hones broken; although he was laid up for five weeks. Ashton and Black
did not have much luck in the present trip and failed to get a single
lion.
Two Spaniards passed our camp one day, inward bound. They were the Duke
of Peñaranda and Sr. de la Huerta, and reported no lions during their
few days in the district. Prince Lichtenstein was also somewhere on the
plateau, but we didn't run across him. In addition to these three
parties and ours, the only other expedition in the Guas Ngishu Plateau
was Colonel Roosevelt's party, toward which, by previous agreement, we
made our way.
A number of months before Mr. Akeley, who headed our party, was dining
with President Roosevelt at the White House. In the course of their
talk, which was about Africa and Mr. Akeley's former African hunting and
collecting experiences, the latter had told the president about a group
of elephants that he was going to collect and mount for the American
Museum of History in New York. President Roosevelt was asked if he would
coöperate in the work, and he expressed a keen willingness to do so.
When our party arrived at Nairobi, in September, a letter awaited Mr.
Akeley, renewing Colonel Roosevelt's desire to help in collecting the
group.
It was in answer to this invitation that Mr. Akeley and our party had
gone to the Mount Elgon country to meet Mr. Roosevelt and carry out the
elephant-hunting compact made many months before at the White House.
[Photograph: Kermit, Leslie Tarlton and Colonel Roosevelt]
[Photograph: Winding Through Unbroken Country]
[Photograph: Our Safari on the March]
Eleven days of marching and hunting from the railroad brought us to
Sergoi, the very uttermost outpost of semi-civilization. Here we found
another letter in which Mr. Akeley was asked to come to the Roosevelt
camp, and which suggested that a native runner could pilot him to its
whereabouts. The letter had been written some days before and had been
for some time at Sergoi. Whether the Roosevelt camp had been moved in
the meantime could not be determined at Sergoi, and we knew only in a
general way that it was probably somewhere on the Nzoia River
(pronounced Enzoya), two or three days' march west of Sergoi, toward
Mount Elgon.
So we started across, meeting no natives who possibly could have given
any information. On the afternoon of November thirteenth we went into
camp on the edge of a great swamp, or _tinga-tinga_, as the natives
call it, only a couple of hours' march from the river. Many fresh
elephant trails had been discovered, and the swamp itself looked like a
most promising place for lions. A great tree stood on one side of the
swamp, and in its branches was a platform which an Englishman had
occupied seven nights in a vain quest for lions some time before. A
little grass shelter was below the tree, and as we approached a
Wanderobo darted out and ran in terror from us. The Wanderobos are
native hunters who live in the forests, and are as shy as wild animals.
So we could not question him as to Colonel Roosevelt's camp. Later in
the afternoon a native runner appeared from the direction of Sergoi with
a message to the colonel, but he didn't know where the camp was and
didn't seem to be in any great hurry to find out. He calmly made himself
the guest of one of our porters and spent the night in our camp, doing
much more sitting than running.
On the morning of the fourteenth we marched toward the river, two hours
away, the native runner slowly ambling along with us. We had been on the
trail about an hour and a half when a shot was heard off to our left; At
first we thought it was our Spanish friends, but a few moments later we
came to a point where we could see, about a mile away, a long string of
porters winding along in the direction from which we came, it was
plainly a much larger _safari_ than the Spanish one, and we at once
concluded that it was Colonel Roosevelt's.
Three or four men on horses were visible, but could not be recognized
with our glasses. The number corresponded to the colonel's party,
however, which we knew to consist of himself and Kermit, Edmund Heller
and Leslie Tarlton. A messenger was sent across the hills to establish
their identity and we marched on to the river, a half-hour farther,
where we found the smoldering fires of their camp.
A transport wagon of supplies for the Duke of Peñaranda's _safari_ was
also there, and from the drivers it was definitely learned that the late
occupants of the camp were Mr. Roosevelt and his party. In the meantime
the messenger had reached Colonel Roosevelt, and when the latter learned
that Mr. Akeley's _safari_ was in the vicinity he at once ordered camp
pitched forty-five minutes from our camp, and started across to see
Akeley. The latter had also started across to see the colonel, and they
met on the way. And during all this time the native runner with the
message to Colonel Roosevelt was loafing the morning away in our camp.
What the message might be, of course, we didn't know, but we hoped that
it was nothing of importance. It was only when the colonel and his party
reached our camp that the message was delivered. As we stood talking and
congratulating everybody on how well he was looking the colonel casually
opened the message.
He seemed amused, and somewhat surprised, and at once read it aloud to
us. It was from America, and said: "Reported here you have been killed.
Mrs. Roosevelt worried. Cable denial American Embassy, Rome." It was
dated November sixth, eight days before.
"I think I might answer that by saying that the report is premature," he
said, laughing, and then told the story of a Texas man who had commented
on a similar report in the same words.
Colonel Roosevelt certainly didn't look dead. If ever a man looked
rugged and healthy and in splendid physical condition he certainly did
on the day that this despatch reached him. His cheeks were burned to a
ruddy tan and his eyes were as clear as a plainsman's. He laughed and
joked and commented on the news that we told him with all the enthusiasm
of one who knows no physical cares or worries.
[Drawing: _Reading the Report That He Had Been Killed_]
"If I could have seen you an hour and a half ago," he told Akeley, "I
could have got you the elephants you want for your group. We passed
within only a few yards of a herd of ten this morning, and Kermit got
within thirty yards to make some photographs." They had not shot any,
however, as they had received no answer to the letter sent several days
before to Mr. Akeley and consequently did not know positively that his
party had reached the plateau.
The colonel asked about George Ade, commented vigorously and with
prophetic insight on the Cook-Peary controversy, and read aloud, in
excellent dialect, a Dooley article on the subject, which I had saved
from an old copy of the Chicago _Tribune_. He commented very frankly,
with no semblance at hypocrisy, on Mr. Harriman's death, told many of
his experiences in the hunting field, and for three hours, at lunch and
afterward, he talked with the freedom of one who was glad to see some
American friends in the wilderness and who had no objection to showing
his pleasure at such a meeting.
He talked about the tariff and about many public men and public
questions with a frankness that compels even a newspaper man to regard
as being confidential. Our _safari_ was the only one he had met in the
field since he had been in Africa, and it was evident that the efforts
of the protectorate officials to save him from interference and
intrusion had been successful.
Arrangements were then made for an elephant hunt. Colonel Roosevelt was
working on schedule time, and had planned to be in Sergoi on the
seventeenth. He agreed to a hunt that should cover the fifteenth,
sixteenth, and possibly the seventeenth, trusting that they might be
successful in this period and that a hard forced march could get him to
Sergoi on the night of the eighteenth.
It was arranged that he and Mr. Akeley, with Kermit and Tarlton and one
tent should start early the next morning on the hunt, trusting to luck
in overtaking the herd that he had seen in the morning. The hunt was
enormously successful, and the adventures they had were so interesting
that they deserve a separate chapter.