Organisation of the Expedition—The _shauri_—“Poli, poli”—Msenna’s
successful imposture—Black sheep in the flock—The _Lady Alice_
remodelled—Sewing a British flag—Tarya Topan, the millionaire—Signing
the covenants—“On the word of a white man”—Saying good-bye—Loading the
dhows—Vale!—Towards the Dark Continent.
_Nov. 1874._—It is a most sobering employment, the organizing of an
African expedition. You are constantly engaged, mind and body; now in
casting up accounts, and now travelling to and fro hurriedly to receive
messengers, inspecting purchases, bargaining with keen-eyed, relentless
Hindi merchants, writing memoranda, haggling over extortionate prices,
packing up a multitude of small utilities, pondering upon your lists of
articles, wanted, purchased, and unpurchased, groping about in the
recesses of a highly exercised imagination for what you ought to
purchase, and cannot do without, superintending, arranging, assorting,
and packing. And this under a temperature of 95° Fahr.
In the midst of all this terrific, high-pressure exercise arrives the
first batch of applicants for employment. For it has long ago been
bruited abroad that I am ready to enlist all able-bodied human beings
willing to carry a load, be they Wangwana or Wanyamwezi, Wagalla,
Somali, Wasagara, Wayow, Wajindo, Wagogo, or Wazaramo. Ever since I
arrived at Zanzibar, since which date I have been absent exploring the
Rufiji river, I have had a very good reputation among Arabs and
Wangwana. They have not forgotten that it was I who found the “old white
man”—Livingstone—in Ujiji, nor that liberality and kindness to my men
were my special characteristics. They have also, with the true Oriental
spirit of exaggeration, proclaimed that I was but a few months absent;
and that, after this brief excursion, they returned to their homes to
enjoy the liberal pay awarded them, feeling rather the better for the
trip than otherwise. This unsought-for reputation brought on me the
laborious task of selecting proper men out of an extraordinary number of
applicants. Almost all the cripples, the palsied, the consumptive, and
the superannuated that Zanzibar could furnish applied to be enrolled on
the muster list, but these, subjected to a searching examination, were
refused. Hard upon their heels came all the roughs, rowdies, and
ruffians of the island, and these, schooled by their fellows, were not
so easily detected. Slaves were also refused, as being too much under
the influence and instruction of their masters, and yet many were
engaged of whose character I had not the least conception until, months
afterwards, I learned from their quarrels in the camp how I had been
misled by the clever rogues.
All those who bore good characters on the Search Expedition, and had
been despatched to the assistance of Livingstone, in 1872, were employed
without delay. Out of these the chiefs were selected: these were, Manwa
Sera, Chowpereh, Wadi Rehani, Kachéché, Zaidi, Chakanja, Farjalla, Wadi
Safeni, Bukhet, Mabruki Manyapara, Mabruki Unyanyembé, Muini Pembe,
Ferahan, Bwana Muri, Khamseen, Mabruki Speke, Simba, Gardner, Hamoidah,
Zaidi Mganda, and Ulimengo.
But before real business could be entered into, the customary present
had to be distributed to each.
Ulimengo, or the _World_, the incorrigible joker and hunter-in-chief
of the Search and Livingstone’s expeditions, received a gold ring to
encircle one of his thick black fingers, and a silver chain to suspend
round his neck, which caused his mouth to expand gratefully. Rojab, who
was soon reminded of the unlucky accident with Livingstone’s Journal in
the muddy waters of the Mukondokwa, was endowed with a munificent gift
which won him over to my service beyond fear of bribery. Manwa Sera,
the redoubtable ambassador of Speke and Grant to Manwa Sera—the royal
fugitive distressed by the hot pursuit of the Arabs—the leader of my
second caravan in 1871, the chief of the party sent to Unyamyembé to
the assistance of Livingstone in 1872, and now appointed Chief Captain
of the Anglo-American Expedition, was rendered temporarily speechless
with gratitude because I had suspended a splendid jet necklace from
his neck, and ringed one of his fingers with a heavy seal ring. The
historical Mabruki Speke, called by one of my predecessors “Mabruki
the Bullheaded,” who has each time in the employ of European explorers
conducted himself with matchless fidelity, and is distinguished for
his hawk-eyed guardianship of their property and interests, exhibited
extravagant rapture at the testimonial for past services bestowed on
him; while the valiant, faithful, sturdy Chowpereh, the man of manifold
virtues, was rewarded for his former worth with a silver dagger, gilt
bracelet, and earrings. His wife was also made happy with a suitable
gift, and the heir of the Chowpereh estate, a child of two years, was,
at his father’s urgent request, rendered safe by vaccine from any
attack of the smallpox during our absence in Africa.
All great enterprises require a preliminary deliberative palaver, or, as
the Wangwana call it, “Shauri.” In East Africa particularly shauris are
much in vogue. Precipitate, energetic action is dreaded. “Poli, poli!”
or “Gently!” is the warning word of caution given.
The chiefs arranged themselves in a semi-circle on the day of the
shauri, and I sat _à la Turque_ fronting them. “What is it, my friends?
Speak your minds.” They hummed and hawed, looked at one another, as if
on their neighbours’ faces they might discover the purport of their
coming, but, all hesitating to begin, finally broke down in a loud
laugh.
Manwa Sera, always grave, unless hit dexterously with a joke, hereupon
affected anger, and said, “_You_ speak, son of Safeni; verily we act
like children! Will the master eat us?”
Wadi, son of Safeni, thus encouraged to perform the spokesman’s duty,
hesitates exactly two seconds, and then ventures with diplomatic
blandness and _graciosity_. “We have come, master, with words. Listen.
It is well we should know every step before we leap. A traveller
journeys not without knowing whither he wanders. We have come to
ascertain what lands you are bound for.”
Imitating the son of Safeni’s gracious blandness, and his low tone of
voice, as though the information about to be imparted to the intensely
interested and eagerly listening group were too important to speak it
loud, I described in brief outline the prospective journey, in broken
Kiswahili. As country after country was mentioned of which they had
hitherto but vague ideas, and river after river, lake after lake named,
all of which I hoped with their trusty aid to explore carefully, various
ejaculations expressive of wonder and joy, mixed with a little alarm,
broke from their lips, but when I concluded, each of the group drew a
long breath, and almost simultaneously they uttered admiringly, “Ah,
fellows, this is a journey worthy to be called a journey!”
“But, master,” said they, after recovering themselves, “this long
journey will take years to travel—six, nine, or ten years.” “Nonsense,”
I replied. “Six, nine, or ten years! What can you be thinking of? It
takes the Arabs nearly three years to reach Ujiji, it is true, but, if
you remember, I was but sixteen months from Zanzibar to Ujiji and back.
Is it not so?” “Ay, true,” they answered. “Very well, and I assure you I
have not come to live in Africa. I have come simply to see those rivers
and lakes, and after I have seen them to return home.” “Ah, but you know
the old master, Livingstone,” rejoined Hamoidah, who had followed the
veteran traveller nearly eight years, “said he was only going for two
years, and you know that he never came back, but died there.” “That is
true enough, but if I were quick on the first journey, am I likely to be
slow now? Am I much older than I was then? Am I less strong? Do I not
know what travel is now? Was I not like a boy then, and am I not now a
man? You remember while going to Ujiji I permitted the guide to show the
way, but when we were returning who was it that led the way? Was it not
I, by means of that little compass which could not lie like the guide?”
“Ay, true, master, true every word.” “Very well, then, let us finish the
shauri, and go. To-morrow we will make a proper agreement before the
consul;” and in Scriptural phrase, “they forthwith arose and did as they
were commanded.”
Upon receiving information from the coast that there was a very large
number of men waiting for me, I became still more fastidious in my
choice. But with all my care and gift of selection, I was mortified to
discover that many faces and characters had baffled the rigorous
scrutiny to which I had subjected them, and that some scores of the most
abandoned and depraved characters on the island had been enlisted by me
on the Expedition. One man, named Msenna, imposed upon me by assuming
such a contrite penitent look, and weeping such copious tears, when I
informed him that he had too bad a character to be employed, that my
good-nature was prevailed upon to accept his services, upon the
understanding that, if he indulged his murderous propensities in Africa,
I should return him chained the entire distance to Zanzibar, to be dealt
with by his Prince.
The defence of his conduct was something like this: “Bwana,[5] you see
these scars on my head and neck. They are from the sabres of the
Seyyid’s soldiers. Demand of any, Arab or Freeman, why I received them.
They will tell you they were inflicted for rebellion against Prince
Majid at Melinda. The Arabs hate me because I joined the coast men
against their authority. Can any one charge me with worse deeds?”—
appealing to the Wangwana. All were silent. “I am a free-born son of the
coast, and never did any man or woman who did not molest me the smallest
injury. Allah be praised! I am strong, healthy, and contented with my
lot, and if you take me you will never have cause to regret it. If you
fear that I shall desert, give me no advance pay, but pay me when I come
back to Zanzibar according to my deserts.”
This appeal was delivered with impassioned accents and lively gestures,
which produced a great effect upon the mixed audience who listened to
him, and gathering from their faces more than from my own convictions,
that poor scarred Msenna was a kind of political refugee, much abused
and very much misunderstood, his services were accepted, and as he
appeared to be an influential man, he was appointed a junior captain
with prospects of promotion and higher pay.
Subsequently, however, on the shores of Lake Victoria it was discovered—
for in Africa people are uncommonly communicative—that Msenna had
murdered eight people, that he was a ruffian of the worst sort, and that
the merchants of Zanzibar had experienced great relief when they heard
that the notorious Msenna was about to bid farewell for a season to the
scene of so many of his wild exploits. Msenna was only one of many of
his kind, but I have given in detail the manner of his enlistment that
my position may be better understood.
Soon after my return from the Rufiji delta, the B. I. S. N. Company’s
steamer _Euphrates_ had brought the sectional exploring boat, _Lady
Alice_, to Zanzibar. Exceedingly anxious for the portability of the
sections, I had them at once, weighed, and great were my vexation and
astonishment when I discovered that four of the sections weighed 280
lbs. each, and that one weighed 310 lbs.! She was, it is true, a marvel
of workmanship, and an exquisite model of a boat, such, indeed, as few
builders in England or America could rival, but in her present condition
her carriage through the jungles would necessitate a pioneer force a
hundred strong to clear the impediments and obstacles on the road.
While almost plunged into despair, I was informed that there was a very
clever English carpenter, named Ferris, about to leave by the
_Euphrates_ for England. Mr. Ferris was quickly made acquainted with my
difficulty, and for a “consideration” promised, after a personal
inspection of the boat, to defer his departure one month, and to do his
utmost to make the sections portable without lessening her efficiency.
When the boat was exhibited to him, I explained that the narrowness of
the path would make her portage absolutely impossible, for since the
path was often only 18 inches wide in Africa, and hemmed in on each side
with dense jungle, any package 6 feet broad could by no means be
conveyed along it. It was therefore necessary that each of the four
sections should be subdivided, by which means I should obtain eight
portable sections, each three feet wide, and that an afterpiece could
easily be made by myself upon arriving at the lakes. Mr. Ferris,
perfectly comprehending his instructions, and with the aid given by the
young Pococks, furnished me within two weeks with the newly modelled
_Lady Alice_. But it must be understood that her success as a safe
exploring boat is due to the conscientious workmanship which the honest
and thoroughly reliable boat-builder of Teddington lavished upon her.
The pride which the young Pococks and Frederick Barker entertained in
respect to their new duties, in the new and novel career of adventure
now opening before them, did not seem to damp that honourable love of
country which every Englishman abroad exhibits, and is determined to
gratify if he can. Their acquaintance with the shipwright, Mr. Ferris,
who had evidently assisted at the ceremony of planting the British flag
at the mast-head of many a new and noble structure, destined to plough
strange seas, reminded them, during one of the social evening hours
which they spent together, that it would be a fine thing if they might
also be permitted to hoist a miniature emblem of their nationality over
their tent in camp, and over their canoes on the lakes and rivers of
Africa.
[Illustration: A MAP OF THE ROUTE OF STANLEY “THROUGH THE DARK
CONTINENT” 1874-1877, AS WELL AS OF THE EMIN PASHA RELIEF EXPEDITION
THROUGH AFRICA.]]
The Pococks and Barker accordingly, a few days before our departure,
formed themselves into a deputation, and Frank, who was the spokesman,
surprised me with the following request:—
“My brother, Fred Barker, and myself, Sir, have been emboldened to ask
you a favour, which no doubt you will think strange and wrong. But we
cannot forget, wherever we go, that we are Englishmen, and we should
like to be permitted to take something with us that will always remind
us of who we are, and be a comfort to us, even in the darkest hours of
trouble, perhaps even encourage us to perform our duties better. We have
come to ask you, Sir, if we may be permitted to make a small British
flag to hoist above our tent, and over our canoe on the lakes.”
“My dear fellow,” I replied, “you surprise me by imagining for one
moment that I could possibly refuse you. This is not an American
Government or a British Government Expedition, and I have neither the
power nor the disposition to withhold my sanction to your request. If it
will be any pleasure to you, by all means take it, I cannot have the
slightest objection to such an innocent proceeding. All that I shall
require from you in Africa is such service as you can give, and if you
prove yourselves the highly recommended lads you are, I shall not
interfere with any innocent pleasure you may feel yourselves at liberty
to take. If one British flag is not enough, you may take a thousand so
far as I am concerned.”
“Thank you kindly, Sir. You may rest assured that we have entered your
service with the intention to remember what my old father and our
friends strictly enjoined us to do, which was to stick to you through
thick and thin.”
The young Englishmen were observed soon afterwards busy sewing a tiny
flag, about 18 inches square, out of some bunting, and after a pattern
that Mr. Ferris procured for them. Whether the complicated colours, red,
blue, white, were arranged properly, or the crosses according to the
standard, I am ignorant. But I observed that, while they were occupied
in the task, they were very much interested, and that, when it was
finished, though it was only the size of a lady’s handkerchief, they
manifested much delight.
Zanzibar possesses its “millionaires” also, and one of the richest
merchants in the town is Tarya Topan—a self-made man of Hindustan,
singularly honest and just; a devout Muslim, yet liberal in his ideas; a
sharp business man, yet charitable. I made Tarya’s acquaintance in 1871,
and the righteous manner in which he then dealt by me caused me now to
proceed to him again for the same purpose as formerly, viz. to sell me
cloth, cottons, and kanikis, at reasonable prices, and accept my bills
on Mr. Joseph M. Levy, of the _Daily Telegraph_.
Honest Jetta, as formerly, was employed as my vakeel to purchase the
various coloured cloths, fine and coarse, for chiefs and their wives, as
well as a large assortment of beads of all sizes, forms, and colours,
besides a large quantity of brass wire ⅙ inch in thickness.
[Illustration: TARYA TOPAN.]
The total weight of goods, cloth, beads, wire, stores, medicine,
bedding, clothes, tents, ammunition, boat, oars, rudder and thwarts,
instruments and stationery, photographic apparatus, dry plates, and
miscellaneous articles too numerous to mention, weighed a little over
18,000 lbs., or rather more than 8 tons divided as nearly as possible
into loads weighing 60 lbs. each, and requiring therefore the carrying
capacity of 300 men. The loads were made more than usually light, in
order that we might travel with celerity, and not fatigue the people.
But still further to provide against sickness and weakness, a
supernumerary force of forty men were recruited at Bagamoyo, Konduchi,
and the Rufiji delta, who were required to assemble in the neighbourhood
of the first-mentioned place. Two hundred and thirty men, consisting of
Wangwana, Wanyamwezi, and coast people from Mombasa, Tanga, and Saadani,
affixed their marks opposite their names before the American Consul, for
wages varying from 2 to 10 dollars per month, and rations according to
their capacity, strength, and intelligence, with the understanding that
they were to serve for two years, or until such time as their services
should be no longer required in Africa, and were to perform their duties
cheerfully and promptly.
On the day of “signing” the contract, each adult received an advance of
20 dollars, or four months’ pay, and each youth 10 dollars, or four
months’ pay. Ration money was also paid them from the time of first
enlistment, at the rate of 1 dollar per week, up to the day we left the
coast. These conditions were, however, not entered into without
requiring the presence of each person’s friends and relatives to witness
and sanction the engagements, so that on this day the parents, uncles,
cousins, and near and distant relatives, wives and children, were in
attendance, and crowded every room and court at the American Consulate.
The entire amount disbursed in cash for advances of pay and rations at
Zanzibar and Bagamoyo was 6260 dollars, or nearly £1300.
The obligations, however, were not all on one side. Besides the due
payment to them of their wages on demand, and selling them such cloths
as they would require for dress while in Africa at reasonable prices,
which would be a little above cost price at Zanzibar, I was compelled to
bind myself to them, on the word of an “honourable white man,” to
observe the following conditions as to conduct towards them:—
1st. That I should treat them kindly, and be patient with them.
2nd. That in case of sickness, I should dose them with proper medicine,
and see them nourished with the best the country afforded. That if
patients were unable to proceed, they should not be abandoned to the
mercy of heathen, but were to be conveyed to such places as should be
considered safe for their persons and their freedom, and convenient for
their return, on convalescence, to their friends. That with all patients
thus left behind, I should leave sufficient cloth or beads to pay the
native practitioner for his professional attendance, and for the support
of the patient.
3rd. That in cases of disagreement between man and man, I should judge
justly, honestly, and impartially. That I should do my utmost to prevent
the ill-treatment of the weak by the strong, and never permit the
oppression of those unable to resist.
4th. That I should act like a “father and mother” to them, and to the
best of my ability resist all violence offered to them by “savage
natives, and roving and lawless banditti.”
They also promised, upon the above conditions being fulfilled, that they
would do their duty like men, would honour and respect my instructions,
giving me their united support and endeavouring to the best of their
ability to be faithful servants, and would never desert me in the hour
of need. In short, that they would behave like good and loyal children,
and “may the blessing of God,” said they, “be upon us.”
How we kept this bond of mutual trust and forbearance, and adhered to
each other in the hours of sore trouble and distress, faithfully
performing our duties to one another: how we encouraged and sustained,
cheered and assisted one another, and in all the services and good
offices due from man to man, and comrade to comrade, from chief to
servants and from servants to chief, how we kept our plighted word of
promise, will be best seen in the following chapters, which record the
strange and eventful story of our journeys.
_Nov. 12._—The fleet of six Arab vessels which were to bear us away to
the west across the Zanzibar Sea were at last brought to anchor a few
yards from the wharf of the American Consulate. The day of farewell
calls had passed, and ceremoniously we had bidden adieu to the
hospitable and courteous Acting British Consul, Captain William F.
Prideaux, and his accomplished wife,[6] to friendly and amiable Dr.
James Robb and Mrs. Robb, to Dr. Riddle, and the German and French
Consuls. Seyyid Barghash bin Sayid received my thanks for his courtesy,
and his never-failing kindness, and my sincere wishes for his lasting
prosperity and happiness. Many kind Arab and Hindi friends also received
my parting salaams. Grave Sheikh Hashid expressed a hope that we should
meet again on earth, Captain Bukhet, the pilot, wished me a quick and
safe return from the dread lands of the heathen, and the princely Indian
merchant, Tarya Topan, expressed his sincere hopes that I should be
prosperous in my undertaking, and come back crowned with success.
The young Englishmen, whose charming, simple manners and manly bearing
had won for them a number of true friends at Zanzibar, were not without
many hearty well-wishers, and received cheerful farewells from numerous
friends.
At the end of Ramadan, the month of abstinence of Mohammedans, the
Wangwana, true to their promise that they would be ready, appeared with
their bundles and mats, and proceeded to take their places in the
vessels waiting for them. As their friends had mustered in strong force
to take their final parting and bestow last useful hints and prudent
advice, it was impossible to distinguish among the miscellaneous crowd
on the beach those who were present, or to discover who were absent. The
greater part of my company were in high spirits, and from this I
inferred that they had not forgotten to fortify themselves with
stimulants against the critical moment of departure.
As fast as each dhow was reported to be filled, the _Nakhuda_ or Captain
was directed to anchor further off shore to await the signal to sail. By
5 P.M. of the 12th of November, 224 men had responded to their names,
and five of the Arab vessels, laden with the _personnel_, cattle, and
_matériel_ of the expedition, were impatiently waiting with anchor
heaved short, the word of command. One vessel still lay close ashore, to
convey myself, and Frederick Barker—in charge of the personal servants—
our baggage, and dogs. Turning round to my constant and well-tried
friend, Mr. Augustus Sparhawk, I fervently clasped his hand, and with a
full heart though halting tongue, attempted to pour out my feelings of
gratitude for his kindness and long sustained hospitality, my keen
regret at parting and hopes of meeting again. But I was too agitated to
be eloquent, and all my forced gaiety could not carry me through the
ordeal. So we parted in almost total silence, but I felt assured that he
would judge my emotions by his own feelings, and would accept the lame
efforts at their expression as though he had listened to the most
voluble rehearsal of thanks.
A wave of my hand, and the anchors were hove up and laid within ship,
and then, hoisting our lateen sails, we bore away westward to launch
ourselves into the arms of Fortune. Many wavings of kerchiefs and hats,
parting signals from white hands, and last long looks at friendly
white faces, final confused impressions of the grouped figures of
our well-wishers, and then the evening breeze had swept us away into
mid-sea beyond reach of recognition.
The parting is over! We have said our last words for years, perhaps for
ever, to kindly men! The sun sinks fast to the western horizon, and
gloomy is the twilight that now deepens and darkens. Thick shadows fall
upon the distant land and over the silent sea, and oppress our
throbbing, regretful hearts, as we glide away through the dying light
towards The Dark Continent.
[Illustration: “TOWARDS THE DARK CONTINENT.”]
-----
# 5:
“Master.”
# 6:
No lady was ever more universally respected at Zanzibar than Mrs.
Prideaux, and no death ever more sincerely regretted by the European
community than was hers.