On the March—Congorido to Rubuti—The hunting-grounds of Kitangeh—
Shooting zebra—“Jack’s” first prize—Interviewed by lions—Geology of
Mpwapwa—Dudoma—“The flood-gates of heaven” opened—Dismal reflections—
The Salina—A conspiracy discovered—Desertions—The path lost—Starvation
and deaths—Trouble imminent—Grain huts plundered—Situation deplorable—
Sickness in the camp—Edward Pocock taken ill—His death and funeral.
The line of march towards the interior, which, after due consideration,
we adopted, runs parallel to the routes known to us, by the writings of
many travellers, but extends as far as thirty miles north of the most
northerly of them.
At Rosako the route began to diverge from that which led to Msuwa and
Simba-Mwenni, and opened out on a stretch of beautiful park land, green
as an English lawn, dipping into lovely vales, and rising into gentle
ridges. Thin, shallow threads of water in furrow-like beds or in deep
narrow ditches, which expose the sandstone strata on which the fat
ochreous soil rests, run in mazy curves round forest clumps, or through
jungle tangles, and wind about among the higher elevations, on their way
towards the Wami river.
_Nov. 23._—On the 23rd, we halted at the base of one of the three cones
of Pongwé, at a village situated at an altitude of 900 feet above the
sea. The lesser Pongwé cone rises about 800 feet higher than the
village, and the greater probably 1200 feet. The pedometers marked
forty-six miles from Bagamoyo.
Congorido, a populous village, was reached on the 24th. From my hut, the
Pongwé hills were in clear view. The stockade was newly built, and was a
good defensive enclosure. The drinking-water was brackish, but after
long search, something more potable was discovered a short distance to
the south-east.
Mfuteh, the next village, was another strong, newly enclosed
construction after the pattern of the architecture of Unyamwezi. The
baobab, at this height, began to flourish, and in the depressions of the
land the doum, borassus, and fan-palm were very numerous. The soil
westward of Congorido, I observed, contains considerable alkali, and it
is probable that this substance is favourable to the growth of palms.
The villagers are timid and suspicious. Lions are reported to abound
towards the north.
Westward of Mfuteh we travelled along the right or southern bank of the
Wami for about four miles. Its banks are fringed with umbrageous wooded
borders, and beyond these extends an interesting country. The colossal
peak of Kidudu rears its lofty crown to a great height, and forms a
conspicuous landmark, towering above its less sublime neighbours of
Nguru, about fifteen or twenty miles north of the Wami’s course.
_Nov. 29._—From Mfuteh to Rubuti, a village on the Lugumbwa creek, which
we reached on the 29th, game is numerous, but the landscape differs
little from that described above. We crossed the Wami three times in one
march, the fords being only 2½ feet deep. Granite boulders protruded
above the surface, and the boiling points at one of the fords showed a
considerable height above the sea. At one of the fords there was a
curious suspension bridge over the river, constructed of llianes with
great ingenuity by the natives. The banks were at this point 16 feet
high above the river, and from bank to bank the distance was only 30
yards: it was evident, therefore, that the river must be a dangerous
torrent during the rainy season.
The road thence, skirting a range of mountains, leads across numerous
watercourses and some very clear rivers—one, the Mkindo, near Mvomero,
being a beautiful stream, and the water of which I thought very
invigorating. I certainly imagined I felt in excellent spirits the whole
of the day after I had taken a deep draught of it.
_Dec. 3._—On the 3rd of December we came to the Mkundi river, a
tributary of the Wami, which divides Nguru country from Usagara.
Simba-Mwenni, or Simba-Miunyi—the Lion Lord—not the famous man farther
south—owns five villages in this neighbourhood. He was generous,
and gratified us with a gift of a sheep, some flour, and plantains,
accepting with pleasure some cloth in return.
The Wa-Nguru speak the same dialect as the Waseguhha and Wasagara, and
affect the same ornaments, being fond of black and white beads and brass
wire. They split the lobes of their ears, and introduce such curious
things as the necks of gourds or round discs of wood to extend the gash.
A medley of strange things are worn round the neck, such as tiny goats’
horns, small brass chains, and large egg-like beads. Blue Kanika and the
red-barred Barsati are the favourite cloths in this region. The natives
dye their faces with ochre, and, probably influenced by the example of
Wanyamwezi, dress their hair in long ringlets, which are adorned with
pendicles of copper, or white or red beads of the large Sam-sam pattern.
_Dec. 4._—Grand and impressive scenery meets the eye as we march to
Makubika, the next settlement, where we attain an altitude of 2675 feet
above the ocean. Peaks and knolls rise in all directions, for we are now
ascending to the eastern front of the Kaguru mountains. The summits of
Ukamba are seen to the north, its slopes famous for the multitude of
elephants. The mountain characteristically called the “Back of the Bow”
has a small, clear lake near it, and remarkable peaks or mountain crests
break the sky line on every side. Indeed, some parts of this great
mountain range abound in scenery both picturesque and sublime.
Between Mamboya and Kitangeh, I was much struck by the resemblance that
many of the scenes bear to others that I had seen in the Alleghanies.
Water is abundant, flowing clear as crystal from numerous sources. As we
neared Eastern Kitangeh, villages were beheld dotted over every hill,
the inhabitants of which, so often frightened by inroads of the ever
marauding Wamasai, have been rendered very timid. Here, for the first
time, cattle were observed as we travelled westerly from Bagamoyo.
By a gradual ascent from the fine pastoral basin of Kitangeh, we reached
the spine of a hill at 4490 feet, and beheld an extensive plain,
stretching north-west and west, with browsing herds of noble game.
Camping on its verge, between a lumpy hill and some rocky knolls, near a
beautiful pond of crystal-clear water, I proceeded with my gun-bearer,
Billali, and the notorious Msenna, in the hope of bringing down
something for the Wangwana, and was heartily encouraged thereto by Frank
and Ted Pocock.
[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE VILLAGE OF MAMBOYA.]
The plain was broader than I had judged it by the eye from the crest of
the hill whence we had first sighted it. It was not until we had walked
briskly over a long stretch of tawny grass, crushed by sheer force
through a brambly jungle, and trampled down a path through clumps of
slender cane stalks, that we came at last in view of a small herd of
zebras. These animals are so quick of scent and ear, and so vigilant
with their eyes, that, across an open space, it is most difficult to
stalk them. But by dint of tremendous exertion, I contrived to approach
to within 250 yards, taking advantage of every thin tussock of grass,
and, almost at random, fired. One of the herd leaped from the ground,
galloped a few short maddened strides, and then, on a sudden, staggered,
kneeled, trembled, and fell over, its legs kicking the air. Its
companions whinnied shrilly for their mate, and, presently wheeling in
circles with graceful motion, advanced nearer, still whinnying, until I
dropped another with a crushing ball through the head—much against my
wish, for I think zebras were created for better purpose than to be
eaten. The remnant of the herd vanished, and the bull-terrier “Jack,”
now unleashed, was in an instant glorying in his first strange prizes.
How the rogue plunged his teeth in their throats! with what ardour he
pinned them by the nose! and soon bathing himself in blood, he appeared
to be the very Dog of Murder, a miracle of rabid ferocity.
Billali, requested to run to camp to procure Wangwana to carry the meat
to camp, was only too happy, knowing what brave cheers and hearty
congratulations would greet him. Msenna was already busy skinning one of
the animals, some 300 yards from me; Jack was lying at my feet, watchful
of the dead zebra on which I was seated, and probably calculating, so I
supposed, how large a share would fall to him for his assistance in
seizing the noble quarry by the nose. I was fast becoming absorbed in a
mental picture of what might possibly lie behind the northern mountain
barrier of the plain, when Jack sprang up and looked southward. Turning
my head, I made out the form of some tawny animal, that was advancing
with a curious long step, and I recognised it to be a lion. I motioned
to Msenna, who happened to be looking up, and beckoned him. “What do you
think it is, Msenna?” I asked. “Simba (a lion), master,” he answered.
Finding my own suspicions verified, we both lay down, and prepared our
rifles. Two explosive bullets were slipped into an elephant rifle, and I
felt sure with the perfect rest which the body of the zebra gave for the
rifle, that I could drop anything living larger than a cat at the
distance of 100 yards; so I awaited his approach with composure. The
animal advanced to within 300 yards, and then, giving a quick bound as
though surprised, stood still. Shortly afterwards, after a deliberate
survey, he turned sharp round and trotted off into a low shrubby jungle,
about 800 yards away. Ten minutes elapsed, and then as many animals
emerged from the same spot into which the other had disappeared, and
approached us in stately column. But it being now dusk, I could not
discern them very clearly. We both were, however, quite sure in our own
minds that they were lions, or at any rate some animals so like them in
the twilight that we could not imagine them to be anything else. When
the foremost had come within 100 yards, I fired. It sprang up and fell,
and the others disappeared with a dreadful rush. We now heard shouts
behind us, for the Wangwana had come; so, taking one or two with me, I
endeavoured to discover what I felt to be a prostrate lion, but it could
not be found. It occupied us some time to skin and divide our game, and
as the camp was far, we did not reach it until 9 P.M., when, of course,
we received a sincere welcome from people hungry for meat.
The next day Manwa Sera went out to hunt for the lion-skin, but returned
after a long search with only a strong doubt in his mind as to its
having been a lion, and a few reddish hairs to prove that it was
something which had been eaten by hyenas. This day I succeeded in
shooting a small antelope of the springbok kind.
_Dec. 11._—We crossed the plain on the 11th of December, and arrived at
Tubugwé. It is only six miles in width, but within this distance we
counted fourteen human skulls, the mournful relics of some unfortunate
travellers, slain by an attack of Wahumba from the north-west. I think
it is beyond doubt that this plain, extending, as it does, from the
unexplored north-west, and projecting like a bay into a deep mountain
fiord south-east of our road, must in former times have been an inlet or
creek of the great reservoir of which the Ugombo lake, south of here, is
a residuum. The bed of this ancient lake now forms the pastoral plains
of the Wahumba, and the broad plain-like expanses visible in the Ugogo
country.
Rounding the western extremity of a hilly range near the scene of our
adventures, we followed a valley till it sloped into a basin, and
finally narrowed to a ravine, along the bottom of which runs a small
brackish stream. A bed of rock-salt was discovered on the opposite side.
Two miles farther, at the base of a hilly cone, we arrived at a wooded
gully, where very clear and fresh water is found, and from which the
path runs west, gradually rising along the slope of a hill until it
terminates in a pass 3700 feet above sea-level, whence the basin of
Tubugwé appears in view, enclosing twenty-five square, stockaded
villages and many low hills, and patched with cultivated fields. A
gentle descent of about 400 feet brought us to our camp, on the banks of
a small tributary of the Mukondokwa.
[Illustration:
OUR CAMP AT MPWAPWA.
(_From a photograph._)
]
_Dec. 12._—On the 12th of December, twenty-five days’ march from
Bagamoyo, we arrived at Mpwapwa.
The region traversed from the eastern slopes of that broad range which
we began to skirt soon after passing to the left bank of the Wami river,
as far as Chunyu (a few miles west of Mpwapwa), comprises the extreme
breadth of the tract distinguished in the work, ‘How I found
Livingstone,’ as the Usagara mountains. The rocks are of the older
class, gneiss and schists, but in several localities granite protrudes,
besides humpy dykes of trap. From the brackish stream east of Tubugwé,
as far as Mpwapwa, there are also several dykes of a feldspathic rock,
notably one that overlooks the basin of Tubugwé. The various clear
streams coursing towards the Mukondokwa, as we dipped and rose over the
highest points of the mountains among which the path led us, reveal beds
of granite, shale, and rich porphyritic brown rock, while many loose
boulders of a granitic character lie strewn on each side, either
standing up half covered with clambering plants in precarious positions
upon a denuded base, or lying bare in the beds of the stream, exposed to
the action of the running water. Pebbles also, lodged on small shelves
of rock in the streams, borne thither by their force during rainy
seasons, attest the nature of the formations higher up their course.
Among these, we saw varieties of quartz, porphyry, green-stone, dark
grey shale, granite, hematite, and purple jasper, chalcedony, and other
gravels.
The rock-salt discovered has a large mass exposed to the action of the
stream. In its neighbourhood is a greyish tufa, also exposed, with a
brown mossy parasite running in threads over its face.
Wood is abundant in large clumps soon after passing Kikoka, and this
feature of the landscape obtains as far as Congorido. The Wami has a
narrow fringe of palms on either bank; while thinly scattered in the
plains and less fertile parts, a low scrubby brushwood, of the acacia
species, is also seen, but nowhere dense. Along the base and slopes of
the mountains, and in its deep valleys, large trees are very numerous,
massing, at times, even into forests. The extreme summits, however, are
clothed with only grass and small herbage.
Mpwapwa has also some fine trees, but no forest; the largest being the
tamarind, sycamore, cottonwood, and baobab. The collection of villages
denominated by this title lies widely scattered on either side of the
Mpwapwa stream, at the base of the southern slope of a range of
mountains that extends in a sinuous line from Chunyu to Ugombo. I call
it a range because it appeared to be one from Mpwapwa; but in reality it
is simply the northern flank of a deep indentation in the great mountain
chain that extends from Abyssinia, or even Suez, down to the Cape of
Good Hope. At the extreme eastern point of this indentation from the
western side lies Lake Ugombo, just twenty-four miles from Mpwapwa.
Desertions from the expedition had been frequent. At first, Kachéché,
the chief detective, and his gang of four men, who had received
their instructions to follow us a day’s journey behind, enabled me
to recapture sixteen of the deserters; but the cunning Wangwana
and Wanyamwezi soon discovered this resource of mine against their
well-known freaks, and, instead of striking east in their departure,
absconded either south or north of the track. We then had detectives
posted long before dawn, several hundred yards away from the camp,
who were bidden to lie in wait in the bush, until the expedition had
started, and in this manner we succeeded in repressing to some extent
the disposition to desert, and arrested very many men on the point of
escaping; but even this was not adequate. Fifty had abandoned us before
reaching Mpwapwa, taking with them the advances they had received, and
often their guns, on which our safety might depend.
Several feeble men and women also had to be left behind; and it was
evident that the very wariest methods failed to bind the people to their
duties. The best of treatment and abundance of provisions daily
distributed were alike insufficient to induce such faithless natures to
be loyal. However, we persisted, and as often as we failed in one way,
we tried another. Had all these men remained loyal to their contract and
promises, we should have been too strong for any force to attack us, as
our numbers must necessarily have commanded respect in lands and among
tribes where only power is respected.
One day’s march from Mpwapwa, the route skirting a broad arm of the
Marenga Mkali desert, which leads to the Ugombo lake, brought us to
Chunyu—an exposed and weak settlement, overlooking the desert or
wilderness separating Usagara from Ugogo. Close to our right towered the
Usagara mountains, and on our left stretched the inhospitable arm of the
wilderness. Fifteen or twenty miles distant to the south rose the vast
cluster of Rubeho’s cones and peaks.
The water at Chunyu is nitrous and bitter to the taste. The natives were
once prosperous, but repeated attacks from the Wahehé to the south and
the Wahumba to the north have reduced them in numbers, and compelled
them to seek refuge on the hill-summits.
_Dec. 16._—On the 16th of December, at early dawn, we struck camp, and
at an energetic pace descended into the wilderness, and at 7 P.M. the
vanguard of the expedition entered Ugogo, camping two or three miles
from the frontier village of Kikombo. The next day, at a more moderate
pace, we entered the populated district, and took shelter under a mighty
baobab a few hundred yards distant from the chief’s village.
The fields, now denuded of the dwarf acacia and gum jungle which is the
characteristic feature of the wilderness of Marenga Mkali and its
neighbourhood, gave us a clear view of a broad bleak plain, with nothing
to break its monotony to the jaundiced eye save a few solitary baobab,
some square wattled enclosures within which the inhabitants live, and an
occasional herd of cattle or flock of goats that obtain a poor
subsistence from the scanty herbage. A few rocky hills rise in the
distance on either hand.
Kikombo, or Chikombo, stands at an altitude by aneroid of 2475 feet. The
hills proved, as we afterwards ascertained on arriving at Itumbi, Sultan
Mpamira’s, to be the eastern horn of the watershed that divides the
streams flowing south to the Rufiji from those that trend north.
We march under a very hot sun to Mpamira’s village; and through the
double cover of the tent the heat at Itumbi rose to 96° Fahr. Within an
hour of our arrival, the sky, as usual in this season, became overcast,
the weather suddenly became cold, and the thermometer descended to 69°
Fahr., while startling claps of thunder echoed among the hills,
accompanied by vivid flashes of lightning. About three miles to the
south-west, we observed a thick fog, and knew that rain was falling, but
we only received a few drops. Half an hour later, a broad and dry sandy
stream-bed, in which we had commenced to dig for water, was transformed
into a swift torrent of 18 inches deep and 50 yards wide, the general
direction of which was north by east. Within two or three hours, there
were only a few gentle threads of water remaining; the torrent had
subsided as quickly as it had risen.
On our road to Leehumwa, we passed over a greyish calcareous tufa. On
either side of us rise hills bare of soil, presenting picturesque
summits, some of which are formed by upright masses of yellow feldspar,
coloured by the presence of iron and exposure to weather.
The next settlement, Dudoma, is situated on a level terrace to the north
of the hills which form the watershed, and from its base extends, to the
unknown north, the great plain of Uhumba, a dry, arid, and inhospitable
region, but covered with brushwood, and abandoned to elephants, lions,
large game, and intractable natives.
_Dec. 23._—The rainy season began in earnest on the 23rd of December,
while we halted at Dudoma, and next day we struggled through a pelting
storm, during an eight miles’ march to Zingeh, the plain of which we
found already half submerged by rushing yellow streams.
_Dec. 25._—The following sketch is a portion of a private letter to
a friend, written on Christmas Day at Zingeh: “I am in a centre-pole
tent, seven by eight. As it rained all day yesterday, the tent was set
over wet ground, which, by the passing in and out of the servants, was
soon trampled into a thick pasty mud bearing the traces of toes, heels,
shoe nails, and dogs’ paws. The tent walls are disfigured by large
splashes of mud, and the tent corners hang down limp and languid, and
there is such an air of forlornness and misery about its very set that
it increases my own misery, already great at the sight of the doughy
muddy ground with its puddlets and strange hieroglyphic traceries and
prints. I sit on a bed raised about a foot above the sludge, mournfully
reflecting on my condition. Outside, the people have evidently a fellow
feeling with me, for they appear to me like beings with strong suicidal
intentions or perhaps they mean to lie still, inert until death
relieves them. It has been raining heavily the last two or three days,
and an impetuous downpour of sheet rain has just ceased. On the march,
rain is very disagreeable; it makes the clayey path slippery, and the
loads heavier by being saturated, while it half ruins the cloths. It
makes us dispirited, wet, and cold, added to which we are hungry—for
there is a famine or scarcity of food at this season, and therefore we
can only procure half-rations. The native store of grain is consumed
during the months of May, June, July, August, September, October, and
November. By December, the planting month, there is but little grain
left, and for what we are able to procure, we must pay about ten times
the ordinary price. The natives, owing to improvidence, have but little
left. I myself have not had a piece of meat for ten days. My food is
boiled rice, tea, and coffee, and soon I shall be reduced to eating
native porridge, like my own people. I weighed 180 lbs. when I left
Zanzibar, but under this diet I have been reduced to 134 lbs. within
thirty-eight days. The young Englishmen are in the same impoverished
condition of body, and unless we reach some more flourishing country
than famine-stricken Ugogo, we must soon become mere skeletons.
“Besides the terribly wet weather and the scarcity of food from which we
suffer, we are compelled to undergo the tedious and wearisome task of
haggling with extortionate chiefs over the amount of black-mail which
they demand, and which we must pay. We are compelled, as you may
perceive, to draw heavy drafts on the virtues of prudence, patience, and
resignation, without which the transit of Ugogo, under such conditions
as above described, would be most perilous. Another of my dogs, ‘Nero,’
the retriever, is dead. Alas! all will die.”
_Dec. 26._—The next camp westward from Zingeh which we established was
at Jiweni, or the Stones, at an altitude above sea-level of 3150 feet;
crossing on our march three streams with a trend southerly to the
Rufiji. Formerly there had been a settlement here, but in one of the
raids of the Wahumba it had been swept away, leaving only such traces of
man’s occupation as broken pottery, and shallow troughs in the rocks
caused probably by generations of female grinders of corn.
Through a scrubby jungle, all of which in past times had been
cultivated, we marched from the “Stones” to Kitalalo, the chief of which
place became very friendly with me, and, to mark his delight at my
leading a caravan to his country—the first, he hoped, of many more—he
presented a fat ox to the Wangwana and Wanyamwezi.
The outskirts of Kitalalo are choked with growths of acacia, tamarisk,
and gum, while clusters of doum palms are numerous. Further west
stretches the broad plain of Mizanza and Mukondoku, with its deceitful
mirage, herbless and treeless expanse, and nitrous water.
One Somali youth, Mohammed, deserted just eastward of Kitalalo, and was
never afterwards heard of.
_Dec. 29._—Early on the 29th of December, guided by Kitalalo’s son, we
emerged from our camp under the ever rustling doum palms, and a short
mile brought us to the broad and almost level Salina, which stretches
from Mizanza to the south of the track to the hills of Unyangwira,
north.
The hilly range or upland wall which confronted us on the west ever
since we left the “Stones,” and which extends from Usekké northwards to
Machenché, is the natural boundary accepted by the natives as separating
Ugogo from Uyanzi—or Ukimbu, as it is now beginning to be called. The
slope of the Salina, though slight and imperceptible to the eye, is
southerly, and therefore drained by the Rufiji. The greatest breadth of
this plain is twenty miles, and its length may be estimated at fifty
miles. The march across it was very fatiguing. Not a drop of water was
discovered _en route_, though towards the latter part of the journey a
grateful rain shower fell, which revived the caravan, but converted the
plain into a quagmire.
On approaching the Mukondoku district, which contains about a hundred
small villages, we sighted the always bellicose natives advancing upon
our van with uplifted spears and noisy show of war. This belligerent
exhibition did not disturb our equanimity, as we were strangers and had
given no cause for hostilities. After manifesting their prowess by a few
harmless boasts and much frantic action, they soon subsided into a more
pacific demeanour, and permitted us to proceed quietly to our camp under
a towering baobab near the king’s village.
This king’s name is Chalula, and he is a brother of Masumami of
Kitalalo. Unlike his nobler brother, he is crafty and unscrupulous, and
levies extortionate tribute on travellers, for which he never deigns to
send the smallest present in return. His people are numerous, strong,
and bold, and, sharing the overweening pride of their king, are prone to
insolence and hostility upon the slightest cause. Being so powerful, he
is cordially detested by his royal brothers of Kiwyeh, Khonko, and
Mizanza. We experienced therefore much difficulty in preserving the
peace, as his people would insist upon filling the camp, and prying into
every tent and hut.
A conspiracy was discovered at this place, by which fifty men, who had
firmly resolved to abscond, were prevented from carrying out their
intention by my securing the ring-leaders and disarming their deluded
followers. Twenty men were on the sick list, from fever, sore feet,
ophthalmia, and rheumatism. Five succeeded in deserting with their guns
and accoutrements, and two men were left at Mukondoku almost blind.
Indeed, to record our daily mischances and our losses up to this date in
full detail would require half of this volume; but these slight hints
will suffice to show that the journey of an expedition into Africa is
beset with troubles and disaster.
Frank and Edward Pocock and Frederick Barker rendered me invaluable
services while endeavouring to harmonise the large, unruly mob with its
many eccentric and unassimilating natures. Quarrels were frequent,
sometimes even dangerous, between various members of the Expedition, and
at such critical moments only did my personal interference become
imperatively necessary. What with taking solar observations and making
ethnological notes, negotiating with chiefs about the tribute moneys and
attending on the sick, my time was occupied from morning until night. In
addition to all this strain on my own physical powers, I was myself
frequently sick from fever, and wasted from lack of proper, nourishing
food; and if the chief of an expedition be thus distressed, it may
readily be believed that the poor fellows depending on him suffer also.
_Jan. 1._—Having received our guides from Chalula, king of Mukondoku,
on the 1st of January 1875 we struck north, thus leaving for the
first time the path to Unyanyembé, the common highway of East Central
Africa. We were skirting the eastern base of the upland wall, or hilly
range (which, as I have said, we sighted westward from the “Stones”),
by a path which connected several Wahumba villages. Though humble
to the European eye, these villages owned several herds of humped,
short-horned cattle, flocks of sheep and goats, with many strong asses
and dogs. Some of the young women were unusually pretty, with regular
features, well-formed noses, thin, finely chiselled lips, and graceful
forms.
We—the Europeans—were as great curiosities to the natives as though
they lived hundreds of miles from the Unyanyembé road. Each of the
principal men and women extended to us pressing invitations to stop in
their villages, and handsome young chiefs entreated us to become their
blood-brothers. Young Keelusu, the son of the chief of Mwenna, even
came to my camp at night, and begged me to accept a “small gift from
a friend,” which he had brought. This gift was a gallon of new milk,
still warm from the udder. Such a welcome present was reciprocated with
a gilt bracelet, with a great green crystal set in it, a briarwood
pipe, stem banded in silver, a gilt chain, and a Sohari cloth, with
which he was so overjoyed as almost to weep. His emotions of gratitude
were visible in the glistening and dilated eyes, and felt in the
fervent grasp he gave my hand. By some magic art with his sandals of
cowhide, he predicted success to my journey. As the right sandal after
being tossed three times upward, each time turned upside down, my good
health and well-being, he said, were assured, without a doubt.
_Jan. 2._—The next halt was made at Mtiwi, the chief of which was
Malewa. The aneroid here indicated an altitude of 2825 feet. Our
faithless Wagogo guides having deserted us, we marched a little distance
farther north, and ascended the already described “upland wall,” where
the aneroid at our camp indicated a height of 3800 feet—or about 950
feet above the plain on which Mtiwi, Mwenna, and Mukondoku are situated.
The last night at Mtiwi was a disturbed one. The “floodgates of heaven”
seemed literally opened for a period. After an hour’s rainfall, 6 inches
of water covered our camp, and a slow current ran southerly. Every
member of the expedition was distressed, and even the Europeans, lodged
in tents, were not exempted from the evils of the night. My tent walls
enclosed a little pool, banked by boxes of stores and ammunition.
Hearing cries outside, I lit a candle, and my astonishment was great to
find that my bed was an island in a shallow river, which, if it
increased in depth and current, would assuredly carry me off south
towards the Rufiji. My walking boots were miniature barks, floating to
and fro on a turbid tide seeking a place of exit to the dark world of
waters without. My guns, lashed to the centre pole, were stock deep in
water. But the most comical sight was presented by Jack and Bull,
perched back to back on the top of an ammunition-box, butting each other
rearward, and snarling and growling for that scant portion of comfort.
In the morning, I discovered my fatigue cap several yards outside the
tent, and one of my boots sailing down south. The harmonium, a present
for Mtesa, a large quantity of gunpowder, tea, rice and sugar, were
destroyed. Vengeance appeared to have overtaken us. At 10 A.M. the sun
appeared, astonished no doubt at a new lake formed during his absence.
By noon the water had considerably decreased, and permitted us to march;
and with glad hearts we surmounted the upland of Uyanzi, and from our
busy camp, on the afternoon of the 4th of January, gazed upon the
spacious plain beneath, and the vast broad region of sterility and
thorns which we had known as inhospitable Ugogo.
_Jan. 4._—On the upland which we were now about to traverse, we had
arrived at an elevation which greatly altered the character of the
vegetation. On the plain of Ugogo flourish only dwarf bush, a mongrel
and degenerate variety of the noble trees growing in Uyanzi, consisting
of acacia, rank-smelling gum-trees, and euphorbias. Here we have the
stately myombo or African ash. This tree grows on the loftier ridges
and high uplands, flourishing best on loose ferruginous soil. It
utterly rejects the rich alluvium, as well as the shady loam. Where the
tree assumes its greatest height and girth, we may be sure also that
not far off strange freaks of rock will be found in the bosom of the
forest, such as gigantic square blocks of granite, of the magnitude
of cottages, and at a distance reminding the traveller of miniature
castles and other kinds of human dwellings. Large sheets of hematite
and gneiss denuded of soil are also characteristics of this plateau,
while still another feature is a succession of low and grandly swelling
ridges, or land-waves.
On our road to Muhalala, we met hundreds of fugitives who were escaping
from the battle-grounds near Kirurumo, the natives of which were being
harassed by Nyungu, son of Mkasiwa of Unyanyembé, for expressing
sympathy with Mirambo, the warrior chief of Western Unyamwezi.
_Jan. 6._—Muhalala is a small settlement of Wakimbu, the chief of which
declares he owes a nominal allegiance to Malewa of Mtiwi. Procuring
guides here, on the 6th of January we ascended a ridge, its face rough
with many a block of iron ore, and a scabby grey rock, on which torrents
and rains had worked wonderful changes, and within two hours arrived at
Kashongwa, a village situated on the verge of a trackless wild, peopled
by a mixture of Wasukuma, renegade Wangwana, and Wanyamwezi. We were
informed by officious Wangwana, who appeared glad to meet their
countrymen, that we were but two days’ march from Urimi. As they had no
provisions to sell, and each man and woman had two days’ rations, we
resumed our journey, accompanied by one of them as a guide, along a road
which, they informed us, would take us the day after to Urimi, and after
two hours camped near a small pool.
_Jan. 8._—The next day we travelled over a plain which had a gradual
uplift towards the north-west, and was covered with dense, low bush. Our
path was ill-defined, as only small Wagogo caravans travelled to Urimi,
but the guide assured us that he knew the road. In this dense bush there
was not one large tree. It formed a vast carpet of scrub and brush, tall
enough to permit us to force our way among the lower branches, which
were so interwoven one with another that it sickens me almost to write
of this day’s experience. Though our march was but ten miles, it
occupied us as many hours of labour, elbowing and thrusting our way, to
the injury of our bodies and the detriment of our clothing. We camped at
5 P.M. near another small pool, at an altitude of 4350 feet above the
sea. The next day, on the afternoon of the 8th, we should have reached
Urimi, and, in order to be certain of doing so, marched fourteen miles
to still another pool at a height of 4550 feet above sea-level. Yet
still we saw no limit to this immense bush-field, and our labours had,
this day, been increased tenfold. Our guide had lost the path early in
the day, and was innocently leading us in an easterly direction!
The responsibility of leading a half-starved expedition—as ours now
certainly was—through a dense bush, without knowing whither or for how
many days, was great; but I was compelled to undertake it rather than
see it wander eastward, where it would be hopeless to expect provisions.
The greater number of our people had consumed their rations early in the
morning. I had led it northward for hours, when we came to a large tree
to the top of which I requested the guide to ascend, to try if he could
recognise any familiar feature in the dreary landscape. After a short
examination, he declared he saw a ridge that he knew, near which, he
said, was situate the village of Uveriveri. This news stimulated our
exertions, and, myself leading the van, we travelled briskly until 5
P.M., when we arrived at the third pool.
Meantime Barker and the two Pococks, assisted by twenty chiefs, were
bringing up the rear, and we never suspected for a moment that the broad
track which we trampled over grass and through bush would be unperceived
by those in rear of us. The Europeans and chiefs, assisted by the
reports of heavily loaded muskets, were enabled to reach camp
successfully at 7 P.M.; but the chiefs then reported that there had not
arrived a party of four men, and a donkey boy who was leading an ass
loaded with coffee. Of these, however, there was no fear, as they had
detailed the chief Simba to oversee them, Simba having a reputation
among his fellows for fidelity, courage, and knowledge of travel.
_Jan. 9._—The night passed, and the morning of the 9th dawned, and I
anxiously asked about the absentees. They had not arrived. But as each
hour in the jungle added to the distress of a still greater number of
people, we moved on to the miserable little village of Uveriveri. The
inhabitants consisted of only two families, who could not spare us one
grain! We might as well have remained in the jungle, for no sustenance
could be procured here.
In this critical position, many lives hanging on my decision, I resolved
to despatch forty of the strongest men—ten chiefs and thirty of the
boldest youths—to Suna in Urimi, for the villagers of Uveriveri had of
course given us the desired information as to our whereabouts. The
distance from Uveriveri to Suna was twenty-eight miles, as we
subsequently discovered. Pinched with hunger themselves, the forty
volunteers advanced with the resolution to reach Suna that night. They
were instructed to purchase 800 lbs. of grain, which would give a light
load of 20 lbs. to each man, and urged to return as quickly as possible,
for the lives of their women and friends depended on their manliness.
Manwa Sera was also despatched with a party of twenty to hunt up the
missing men. Late in the afternoon they returned with the news that
three of the missing men were dead. They had lost the road, and,
travelling along an elephant track, had struggled on till they perished,
of despair, hunger, and exhaustion. Simba and the donkey-boy, the ass
and its load of coffee, were never seen or heard of again.
_Jan. 10._—With the sad prospect of starvation impending over us, we
were at various expedients to sustain life until the food purveyors
should return. Early on the morning of the 10th, I travelled far and
searched every likely place for game, but though tracks were numerous,
we failed to sight a single head. The Wangwana also roamed about the
forest—for the Uveriveri ridge was covered with fine myombo trees—in
search of edible roots and berries, and examined various trees to
discover whether they afforded anything that could allay the grievous
and bitter pangs of hunger. Some found a putrid elephant, on which they
gorged themselves, and were punished with nausea and sickness. Others
found a lion’s den, with two lion whelps, which they brought to me.
Meanwhile, Frank and I examined the medical stores, and found to our
great joy we had sufficient oatmeal to give every soul two cupfuls of
thin gruel. A “Torquay dress trunk” of sheet-iron was at once emptied of
its contents and filled with 25 gallons of water, into which were put 10
lbs. of oatmeal and four 1-lb. tins of “revalenta arabica.” How the
people, middle-aged and young, gathered round that trunk, and heaped
fuel underneath that it might boil the quicker! How eagerly they watched
it lest some calamity should happen, and clamoured, when it was ready,
for their share, and how inexpressibly satisfied they seemed as they
tried to make the most of what they received, and with what fervour they
thanked “God” for his mercies!
At 9 P.M., as we were about to sleep, we heard the faint sound of a gun
fired deliberately three times, and we all knew then that our young men
with food were not very far from us. The next morning, about 7 A.M., the
bold and welcome purveyors arrived in camp with just enough millet-seed
to give each soul one good meal. This the people soon despatched, and
then demanded that we should resume our journey that afternoon, so that
next morning we might reach Suna in time to forage.
Skirting the southern base of the wooded ridge of Uveriveri, we
continued to ascend almost imperceptibly for eight miles, when we
arrived at another singular series of lofty rocks, called at once by the
Wangwana the Jiweni or “Stones.” We camped near a rocky hill 125 feet
high, from the summit of which I obtained a view of a green grassy plain
stretching towards the north. The altitude of this camp was 5250 feet
above sea-level. Towards night I shot a wild boar and a duck, but
several of the Wangwana, being strict Muslims, could not be induced to
eat the pork. From the “Stones” we came to what we had called a plain
from the summit, but what was really, from its marshy nature, more of a
quagmire. It appeared to be a great resort for elephants; thousands of
the tracks of these great animals ran in all directions. Plunging into
another jungle, we reappeared, after marching twenty miles, in the
cultivated fields of Suna; and on the verge of a coppice we constructed
a strong camp, whence we had a view of the “Stones,” which we had left
in the morning, no other eminences being visible above what appeared a
very ocean of bush.
_Jan. 12._—Next morning there was a strange and peculiar air of
discontent, like a foreshadowing of trouble, among the natives who
appeared before our camp. They did not appear to understand us. They
were seen hurrying their women and children away, and deserting their
villages, while others hovered round our camp menacingly, carrying in
their hands a prodigious quantity of arms—spears, bows and arrows, and
knob-sticks. Trouble seemed imminent. To prevent it, if possible, I
stepped out to them with empty hands, motioned them to be seated, and,
calling an interpreter, likewise unarmed, I attempted to explain the
nature of our expedition and a few of its objects, one of which of
course was to reach Lake Victoria. To those elders who appeared to have
most influence, I gave some beads, as an expression of goodwill and
friendship. But nothing seemed to be of avail until, after close
questioning, I ascertained they had a grievance. Some of the Wangwana,
in their ravenous hunger, had plundered the grain huts, and stolen some
chickens. The natives were requested to come and point out the thieves.
They did so, and pointed their fingers at Alsassi, a notorious thief and
gourmand. Convicted of the crime after a strict examination of his
quarters by Kachéché, the chief detective, Alsassi was flogged in their
presence, not severely but sufficiently to mark my sense of extreme
displeasure. The value of the stolen food was given to the defrauded
natives, and peace and tranquillity were restored.
The Warimi are the finest people in physique we saw between their
country and the sea. They are robust, tall, manly in bearing, and
possess very regular features. As they go stark naked, we perceived that
the males had undergone the process of circumcision. Their ornaments are
cinctures of brass wire round the loins, armlets and leglets of brass,
brass-wire collars, beads plentifully sprinkled over their hair, and
about a dozen long necklaces suspended from the neck. The war costumes
which they were wearing when I had thought that trouble was near were
curious and various. Feathers of the kite and hawk, manes of the zebra
and giraffe, encircled their foreheads. Their arms consisted of
portentous-looking spears, bows and yard-long arrows, and shields of
rhinoceros hide. The women, I imagine, are generally a shade lighter
than the men. I failed to see in a day’s examination a single flat nose
or thick lip, though they were truly negroidal in hair and colour. I
ought to have said that many shaved their heads, leaving only a thin
wavy line over the forehead.
The rolling plain of Suna was at this season utterly devoid of grass. An
immense area was under cultivation; clusters of small villages were
sprinkled over all the prospect the eye embraced, and large flocks of
goats and sheep and herds of cattle proved that they were a pastoral as
well as an agricultural people.
The Warimi appear to have no chief, but submit to direction by the
elders, or heads of families, who have acquired importance by judicious
alliances, and to whom they refer civil causes. In time of war, however,
as we observed the day after we arrived, they have for their elder one
who has a military reputation. This fighting elder, to whom I remarked
great deference was paid, was certainly 6½ feet in height. The species
of beads called Kanyera were, it seemed to me, most in favour; brass
wire was also in demand, but all cloth was rejected except the blue
Kaniki.
We halted four days at Suna, as our situation was deplorable. A
constantly increasing sick list, culminating in the serious illness of
Edward Pocock, the evident restlessness of the Warimi at our presence,
who most certainly wished us anywhere except in their country, and yet
had no excuse for driving us by force from their neighbourhood, the
insufficient quantity of food that could be purchased, and the growing
importunacy of the healthy Wangwana to be led away from such a churlish
and suspicious people, plunged me in perplexity.
We had now over thirty men ailing. Some suffered from dysentery, others
from fever, asthma, chest diseases, and heart sickness; lungs were weak,
and rheumatism had its victims. Edward Pocock, on the afternoon of the
day we arrived at Suna, came to me, and complained of pain in the loins,
a throbbing in the head—which I attributed to weariness after our
terribly long march—and a slight fever. I suggested to him that he had
better lie down and rest. Before I retired, I reminded Frank, his
brother, that he should give Edward some alterative medicine. The next
day the young man was worse. His tongue was thickly coated with a dark
fur, his face fearfully pallid, and he complained of wandering pains in
his back and knees, of giddiness and great thirst. I administered to him
sweet spirits of nitre with orange water, and a few grains of
ipecacuanha as an emetic. The fourth day he was delirious, and we were
about to sponge him with cold water, when I observed that small red
pimples with white tops covered his chest and abdomen, arms and neck.
One or two were very like small-pox pustules, which deceived me for a
time into the belief that it was a mild case of small-pox. However, by
carefully noticing the symptoms, I perceived that it was unmistakably a
case of the dreadful typhus.
_Jan. 17._—There were two or three cases of sickness equally dangerous
in camp, but far more dangerous was the sickness of temper from which
the Warimi suffered. It became imperative that we should keep moving, if
only two or three miles a day. Accordingly, on the 17th of January,
after rigging up four hammocks, and making one especially comfortable
for Edward Pocock, roofed over with canvas, we moved from the camp
through the populated district at a very slow pace; Frank Pocock and
Fred Barker at the side of the hammock of the sick European, and a chief
and four men attending to each suffering Wangwana. Hundreds of natives
fully armed kept up with us on either side of our path.
Never since leaving the sea were we weaker in spirit than on this day.
Had we been attacked, I doubt if we should have made much resistance.
The famine in Ugogo, and that terribly protracted trial of strength
through the jungle of Uveriveri, had utterly unmanned us; besides, we
had such a long list of sick, and Edward Pocock and three Wangwana were
dangerously ill in hammocks. We were an unspeakably miserable and
disheartened band; yet, urged by our destiny, we struggled on, though
languidly. Our spirits seemed dying, or resolving themselves into
weights which oppressed our hearts. Weary, harassed, and feeble
creatures, we arrived at Chiwyu, four hundred miles from the sea, and
camped near the crest of a hill, which was marked by aneroid as 5400
feet above the level of the ocean.
Edward Pocock was reported by Frank to have muttered in his delirium,
“The master has just hit it,” and to have said that he felt very
comfortable. On arriving at the camp, one of the boat sections was
elevated above him as a protection from the sun, until a cool grass hut
could be erected. A stockade was being constructed by piling a thick
fence of brushwood around a spacious circle, along which grass huts were
fast being built, when Frank entreated me to step to his brother’s side.
I sprang to him—only in time, however, to see him take his last gasp.
Frank gave a shriek of sorrow when he realised that the spirit of his
brother had fled for ever, and removing the boat section, bent over the
corpse and wailed in a paroxysm of agony.
We excavated a grave 4 feet deep at the foot of a hoary acacia with
wide-spreading branches, and on its ancient trunk Frank engraved a deep
cross, the emblem of the faith we all believe in, and, when folded in
its shroud, we laid the body in its final resting-place during the last
gleams of sunset. We read the beautiful prayers of the church service
for the dead, and, out of respect for the departed, whose frank,
sociable, and winning manners had won their friendship and regard,
nearly all the Wangwana were present to pay a last tribute of sighs to
poor Edward Pocock.
[Illustration:
IN MEMORIAM
EDWARD POCOCK + DIED JAN. 17. 1875
]
When the last solemn prayer had been read, we retired to our tents, to
brood in sorrow and silence over our irreparable loss.
----------------------------------------------------------------
[_To face page 92._
[Illustration: BURYING OUR DEAD IN HOSTILE TURU: VIEW OF OUR CAMP.]
----------------------------------------------------------------