CHAPTER XIII.

The war-drum beaten—The wizards play their part—In full war-paint—

Bullets against spears—The Wavuma baulked—Mtesa’s fury—Victory or the

stake!—Hard fighting—The captive chief: a struggle between the pagan

and the Christian—A floating mystery—“Return, O spirit! the war is

ended!”—The camp on fire: a race for life.

_Sept. 14._—On the 14th of September the Emperor of Uganda decided to

give battle to the Wavuma, who were daily becoming bolder and more

boastful. In the morning, in accordance with Mtesa’s orders, forty

Waganda canoes sallied out from the beach in front of our camps to

Nakaranga Point, where they formed in line of battle before the

causeway, with the sterns of their canoes fronting Ingira, and their

bows towards Nakaranga Point.

Mtesa was followed by about three-fourths of his army when he proceeded

to the point to view the battle, and with him went the great war-drums,

to the number of fifty or thereabouts, and fifes about a hundred, and a

great number of men shaking gourds filled with pebbles, and the court

criers and mad charmers against evil were not wanting to create din and

noise, and celebrate victory.

A hut of ample size had been erected on the mountain slope overlooking

the strait, into which Mtesa and his favourite women retired. When the

Emperor was seated, the “prophets of Baal,” or the priests or

priestesses of the Muzimu, or witchcraft, came up, more than a hundred

in number, and offered the charms to Mtesa one after another in a most

tedious, ceremonious way, and to all of them Mtesa condescended to point

his imperial forefinger.

The chief priest was a most fantastically dressed madman. It is

customary before commencing a battle to carry all the potent medicines

or charms of Uganda (thus propitiating the dreadful Muzimu or evil

spirits) to the monarch, that he may touch or point his forefinger at

them. They consist of dead lizards, bits of wood, hide, nails of dead

people, claws of animals, and beaks of birds, a hideous miscellany, with

mysterious compounds of herbs and leaves carefully enclosed in vessels

ornamented with vari-coloured beads.

During the battle these wizards and witches chant their incantations,

and exhibit their medicines on high before the foe, while the

gourd-and-pebble bearers sound a hideous alarum, enough to cause the

nerves of any man except an African to relax at once.

Mtesa and his army were in full war-paint, and the principal men wore

splendid leopard skins over their backs, but the Wasoga bore the palm

for splendour of dress and ornate equipments.

Ankori the chief and his officers were wonderfully gay. Snow-white

ostrich plumes decorated their heads, and lion and leopard skins covered

their backs, while their loins were girded with snow-white, long-haired

monkey and goat skins; even the staves of their lances were ornamented

with feathers and rings of white monkey skin.

There was ample time afforded to observe all these things, and to be

exceedingly amused and interested in what promised to be an animating

scene, before all attention was drawn to and engaged by the battle. The

spectators were seated, safe from harm or danger, on the slope of

Nakaranga mountain, from the water’s edge to the mountain summit, tier

above tier, and rank above rank, in thousands upon thousands.

The canoes, having formed line, slowly moved sternwise towards Ingira.

The Wavuma were not inactive spectators of this manœuvre, but as yet

their warriors had not embarked. They were busy mustering, while those

appointed to garrison the island, with the women and children, several

thousands in number, sate down on the slopes of the opposite mountain of

Ingira Island. The rushes and weeds lining the water’s edge were too

tall and thick to enable us to estimate exactly the number of the

enemy’s war-canoes, but the brown-coloured prows, long and curving, of a

great many were seen thrust out from among the vivid green banana

plantations, or arranged on the rising beach of the island beyond its

reedy margin.

Having advanced with the utmost regularity of line, near enough to the

island to make their “Brown Bess” muskets effective, the Waganda began

to open fire in a steady, deliberate manner, and succeeded after a while

in annoying the foe and arousing him to action. At a given signal from

their chiefs, forth from the reeds and rushes shot the prows of the

Wavuma canoes; and then, giving utterance to most shrill war-cries, the

rowers impelled them from all quarters, to the number of 194, with an

extraordinary velocity upon the Waganda line, which now began to retire

slowly towards the causeway.

On the causeway at its farthest extremity were assembled a force of a

hundred musketeers and four small boat howitzers under the command of

the Katekiro and Mtesa’s factotum Tori.

The furious advance of the Wavuma soon caused the Waganda to hurry their

movements, and on approaching the causeway they parted their line,

rushing on either side of it, giving the Katekiro and Tori ample

opportunity to wreak their will on the pursuers. But owing to the want

of skill of the cannoniers, and the nervousness of the musketeers, very

little damage was inflicted on the Wavuma, but the noise and whirring of

lead and iron sufficed to check them, and caused them to withdraw with

much of the baffled aspect of hungry crocodiles cheated of their prey.

This was all the battle—but, short as it was, it had sufficed to prove

to me that Mtesa would be unable to take Ingira Island, garrisoned and

defended as it was by such a determined foe. After a while Mtesa

withdrew from the scene, the army returned to its quarters, and the

canoes of the Waganda, closely hugging the Nakaranga shore, went back to

their rendezvous, leaving the Wavuma masters of the situation.

During the afternoon of this day Mtesa held a grand levee, and when all

were assembled, he addressed them publicly to the effect that in a few

days another battle would be fought, but as he had heard very important

news, he intended to wait a while to ascertain if it was true.

Work progressed but languidly at the causeway. It was very tedious

waiting, but my time was principally occupied in teaching Mtesa and his

principal chiefs, and in gleaning such information as might enable me to

understand the complicated politics of the empire.

_Sept. 18._—Suddenly on the 18th of September, at early dawn, orders

were communicated to the chiefs to prepare for battle. The first

intelligence of it that I received was from the huge war-drums which

summoned both sailors and warriors to action.

But first a burzah, or council, was held. Though eager to learn the

news, I dared not appear too much interested in the war. Sabadu, who

would be present on guard, would be sure to relate to me all the details

of whatever transpired.

At night, though I interpolate it here for the benefit of the narrative,

gossipy Sabadu, whose retentive brain I knew I could trust, conveyed to

me a faithful report of the proceedings; and I cannot do better than

give it to the reader in Sabadu’s language.

“Ah! master, you have missed a sight. I never saw Mtesa as he was

to-day. Oh, it was awful! His eyes were as large as my fists. They

jumped from their sockets, and they were glowing as fire. Didn’t the

chiefs tremble! They were as children, whimpering and crying for

forgiveness. He said to them, ‘Wherein have I been unkind to you, that

you will not fight for me, for my slaves who were sent to Usoga have

returned saying there was not a man but either had joined me or had

already joined the Wavuma? Who gave you those clothes that you wear?

Who gave you those guns that you have? Was it not I? Did Suna my father

give his chiefs such fine things as I give? No; yet they fought for

him, and the boldest of them would not have dared to advise him to fly,

as you have done me. Am I not _Kabaka_? Is this not Uganda, as well

as my capital? Have I not my army here? And you, Katekiro, were you

not a peasant before I dressed you and set you up as a chief of Uddu?

And you, Chambarango, who made you a chief? And you, Mkwenda, and you,

Sekebobo, and you, Kimbugwé, Kitunzi, Kaeema, Kangau, Kagu, speak, was

it not Mtesa who made you chiefs? Were you princes, that you came to be

made chiefs, or peasants whom it was my pleasure to make chiefs? Ah,

ha! I shall see to-day who will not fight; I will see to-day who dares

to run away from the Wavuma. By the grave of my father, I will burn the

man over a slow fire who runs away or turns his back, and the peasant

who distinguishes himself to-day shall eat his land. Look out for

yourselves, chiefs. I will sit down to-day and watch for the coward,

and the coward I will burn. I swear it.’ Instantly the Katekiro fell on

his face to the earth, and cried, ‘Kabaka’ (emperor), ‘send me to-day

to fight, watch my flag, and if I turn my back to the Wavuma, then take

and burn me or cut me to little pieces.’ The example of the Katekiro

was followed by the other chiefs, and they all swore to be desperately

brave.”

About 8.30 A.M., while I was at the point of Nakaranga, the sound of

drums approached me, and I knew that the council was ended, and that the

battle would soon begin. Mtesa appeared anything but a Christian,

judging from his looks. Fires of fury shot from his eyes; and pages,

women, chiefs, and all seemed awe-stricken. I was then ignorant of what

had taken place, but when I observed the absence of Chambarango, and

several of the great Wakungu, or generals, I felt assured that Mtesa had

lately been in the midst of a scene.

Presently other drums sounded from the water-side, and soon the

beautiful canoes of Uganda appeared in view. The entire war-fleet of 230

vessels rode gracefully on the calm grey waters of the channel.

The line of battle, I observed, was formed by Chambarango, in command of

the right flank, with fifty canoes; Sambuzi, Mukavya, Chikwata, and

Saruti, all sub-chiefs, were ranged with 100 canoes under the command of

Kauta, the imperial steward, to form the centre; the left flank was in

charge of the gallant Mkwenda, who had eighty canoes. Tori commanded a

force of musketeers, and with his four howitzers was stationed on the

causeway, which was by this time 200 yards from the shore.

In the above manner the fleet of vessels, containing some 16,000 men,

moved to the attack upon Ingira. The centre, defended by the flanks,

which were to menace the rear of the Wavuma should they approach near

the causeway, resolutely advanced to within thirty yards of Ingira, and

poured in a most murderous fire among the slingers of the island, who,

imagining that the Waganda meant to carry the island by storm, boldly

stood exposed, resolved to fight. But they were unable to maintain that

courageous behaviour long. Mkwenda then moved up from the left, and

attacked with his musketeers the Wavuma on the right, riddling their

canoes, and making matters specially hot for them in that quarter.

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[Illustration: ONE OF THE GREAT NAVAL BATTLES BETWEEN THE WAGANDA AND

THE WAVUMA, IN THE CHANNEL BETWEEN INGIRA ISLAND AND CAPE NAKARANGA.]

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The Wavuma, seeing matters approaching a crisis, and not wishing to die

tamely, manned their canoes, and 196 dashed impetuously, as at first,

from the rushes of Ingira with loud shrill yells, and the Waganda lines

moved backward to the centre of the channel, where they bravely and

coolly maintained their position. As the centre of the Uganda line

parted in front of the causeway and disclosed the hotly advancing enemy,

Tori aimed the howitzers and fired at a group of about twenty canoes,

completely shattering more than half of them, and reloading quickly, he

discharged several bolts of iron three inches long among them with

terrible effect. Before this cool bearing of the Waganda, the Wavuma

retired to their island again, and we saw numbers of canoes discharging

their dead and wounded, and the Waganda were summoned to Nakaranga shore

to receive the congratulations of the Emperor and the applause of the

vast multitude. Mtesa went down to the water’s edge to express his

satisfaction at their behaviour.

“Go at them again,” said he, “and show them what fighting is.” And the

line of battle was again formed, and again the Wavuma darted from the

cover of the reeds and water-cane, with the swiftness of hungry sharks;

beating the water into foam with their paddles, and rending the air with

their piercing yells. It was one of the most exciting and animating

scenes I ever beheld; but, owing to the terror of the stake with which

their dread monarch had threatened them, the Waganda distinguished

themselves for coolness and method, and the Wavuma, as on a former

occasion, for intrepidity and desperate courage.

A third time the Waganda were urged to the battle, and a third time the

unconquerable and desperate enemy dashed on them, to be smitten and

wounded sore in a battle where they had not the least chance of

returning blow for blow without danger of being swept by the cannon and

muskets on the causeway.

A third battle was fought a few days after between 178 Wavuma canoes and

122 Waganda; but had the Waganda possessed the spirit and dash of their

enemies, they might have decided the war on this day, for the Wavuma

were greatly dispirited.

A fourth battle was fought the next day by 214 Waganda canoes and 203

Wavuma canoes, after the usual delay and premonitory provocation. The

Wavuma obtained the victory most signally, chasing the Waganda within 40

yards of Nakaranga Cape, and being only driven from their prey by the

musketeers and the howitzers on the causeway, which inflicted great

execution on them at such close quarters. The Waganda did not attempt a

second trial this day, for they were disorganized and dispirited after

the signal defeat they had experienced.

The fleet of the Waganda returned to their rendezvous with the jeers and

scoffs of the intrepid Wavuma ringing in their ears. On enquiring into

the cause of the disaster, I learned that Mtesa’s gunpowder was almost

exhausted, and that he had scarcely a round left for each musket. This

fact alarmed him, and compelled him to request me to lend him my powder

in the camp at Dumo, which was refused in such a decided tone that he

never repeated the request.

_Oct. 5._—It was now the 5th of October, and I had left my camp on the

12th of August. It was necessary that I should participate in some

manner in the war and end it. Yet I scarcely knew how I should act

effectively to produce results beneficial to all parties. For though my

own interests and the welfare of the Expedition were involved and in a

manner staked on the success of the Waganda, and though a passive

partisan of Mtesa, yet the brave Wavuma, by their magnificent daring and

superb courage, had challenged my fullest sympathies. My energies and

thoughts were bent, therefore, upon discovering a solution of the

problem how to injure none, yet satisfy all.

It was clear that the Wavuma would not surrender without a frightful

waste of life; it was equally evident that Mtesa would not relax his

hold upon them without some compensation or satisfaction, nor assist me

in my projects of exploration unless I aided him in some manner.

At length I devised a plan which I thought would succeed; but before I

was enabled to perfect my scheme an incident occurred which called for

my immediate intervention.

Mtesa, by means of his scouts, had succeeded in capturing one of the

principal chiefs of the Wavuma, and his Wakungu and principal strangers

had been invited to be present to witness the execution of this chief at

the stake.

When I arrived at the scene, a large quantity of faggots had already

been collected to burn him. By this mode of punishment, Mtesa thought he

would be able to strike terror into the souls of the Wavuma.

Mtesa was in high glee when I entered the council: he was unable to hide

the triumph he felt at the terrible vengeance he was about to take for

the massacre of Webba, his favourite page, and the peace party.

“Now, Stamlee,” he said, “when the chief is at the stake,”—he was an old

man of sixty or thereabouts—“you shall see how a chief of Uvuma dies. He

is about to be burnt. The Wavuma will tremble when they hear of the

manner of his death.”

“Ah, Mtesa,” I said, “have you forgotten the words of the good book

which I have read to you so often? ‘If thy brother offend thee, thou

shalt forgive him many times.’ ‘Love thy enemies.’ ‘Do good to them that

hate you.’ ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ ‘Forgive us our

trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.’”

“But this man is a native of Uvuma, and the Wavuma are at war with me.

Have you forgotten Webba?”

“No, I remember poor little Webba. I saw him die, and I was very sorry.”

“Shall this man not die, Stamlee? Shall I not have blood for him,

Stamlee?”

“No.”

“But I shall, Stamlee. I will burn this man to ashes. I will burn every

soul I catch. I will have blood! blood! the blood of all in Uvuma.”

“No, Mtesa! no more blood. It is time the war was ended.”

“What!” said Mtesa, bursting into one of those paroxysms of fury which

Sabadu had so graphically described. “I will slay every soul in Uvuma,

will cut down every plantain, and burn every man, woman, and child on

that island. By the grave of my father Suna, I will.”

“No, Mtesa, you must stop this wild pagan way of thinking. It is only a

pagan who always dreams of blood and talks of shedding blood as you do.

It is only the pagan boy Mtesa who speaks now. It is not the man Mtesa

whom I saw, and whom I made a friend. It is not ‘Mtesa the Good,’ whom

you said your people loved. It is not Mtesa the Christian, it is the

savage. Bah! I have had enough of you, I know you now.”

“Stamlee! Stamlee! Wait a short time, and you will see. What are you

waiting for?” he said, suddenly turning round to the executioners, who

were watching his looks.

Instantly the poor old man was bound; but, suddenly rising, I said to

Mtesa, “Listen to one word. The white man speaks but once. Listen to me

for the last time. You remember the tale of Kintu which you told me the

other day. He left the land of Uganda because it stank with blood. As

Kintu left Uganda in the old, old days, I shall leave it, never to

return. To-day Kintu is looking down upon you from the spirit-land, and

as he rebuked Ma’anda for murdering his faithful servant, so is he

rebuking you to-day through me. Yes, kill that poor old man, and I shall

leave you to-day, unless you kill me too, and from Zanzibar to Cairo I

shall tell every Arab I meet what a murderous beast you are, and through

all the white man’s land I shall tell with a loud voice what wicked act

I saw Mtesa do, and how the other day he wanted to run away because he

heard a silly old woman say the Wasoga were marching upon him. How grand

old Kamanya must have wept in the spirit-land when he heard of Mtesa

about to run away. How the lion-hearted Suna must have groaned when he

saw Mtesa shiver in terror because an old woman had had a bad dream.

Good-bye, Mtesa. You may kill the Mvuma chief, but I am going, and shall

not see it.”

Mtesa’s face had been a picture wherein the passions of brutish fury and

thirsty murder were portrayed most faithfully; but at the mention of

Suna and Kamanya in the spirit-land looking down upon him, the tears

began to well in his eyes, and finally, while they rolled in large drops

down his face, he sobbed loudly like a child, while the chiefs and

executioners, maintaining a deathly silence, looked very uncomfortable.

Tori the cannonier and Kauta the steward, however, sprang up, and,

unrolling their head-dresses, officiously wiped Mtesa’s face, while the

poor wayward man murmured audibly as I walked away from the scene:—

“Did not Stamlee talk about the spirit-land, and say that Suna was angry

with me? Oh, he speaks too true, too true! Oh father, forgive me,

forgive me.” After which, I was told he suddenly broke away from the

council.

An hour afterwards I was summoned by a page to his presence, and Mtesa

said:—

“Stamlee will not say Mtesa is bad now, for he has forgiven the Mvuma

chief, and will not hurt him. Will Stamlee say that Mtesa is good now?

And does he think Suna is glad now?”

“Mtesa is very good,” and I clasped his hand warmly. “Be patient, all

shall come out right, and Kintu and Suna must be glad when they see that

Mtesa is kind to his guests. I have something to tell you. I have

thought over your trouble here, and I want to finish this war for your

good without any more trouble. I will build a structure which shall

terrify the Wavuma, and make them glad of a peace, but you must give me

plenty of men to help me, and in three days I shall be ready. Meantime

shout out to the Wavuma from the causeway that you have something which

will be so terrible that it will finish the war at once.”

“Take everybody, do anything you like; I will give you Sekebobo and all

his men.”

_Oct. 6._—The next morning Sekebobo brought about 2000 men before my

quarters, and requested to know my will. I told him to despatch 1000 men

to cut long poles 1 inch thick, 300 to cut poles 3 inches thick and 7

feet long, 100 to cut straight long trees 4 inches thick, and 100 to

disbark all these, and make bark rope. Himself and 500 men I wished to

assist me at the beach. The chief communicated my instructions and urged

them to be speedy, as it was the Emperor’s command, and himself

accompanied me to the canoe fleet.

[Illustration: THE FLOATING FORTLET MOVING TOWARDS INGIRA.]

I selected three of the strongest-built canoes, each 70 feet long and 6½

feet wide, and, after preparing a space of ground near the water’s edge,

had them drawn up parallel with one another, and 4 feet apart from each

other. With these three canoes I began to construct a floating platform,

laying the tall trees across the canoes, and lashing them firmly to the

thwarts, and as fast as the 7-foot poles came, I had them lashed in an

upright position to the thwarts of the outer canoes, and as fast as the

inch poles arrived, I had them twisted in among these uprights, so that,

when completed, it resembled an oblong stockade, 70 feet long by 27 feet

wide, which the spears of the enemy could not penetrate.

_Oct. 7._—On the afternoon of the second day, the floating fort was

finished, and Mtesa and his chiefs came down to the beach to see it

launched and navigated for a trial trip. The chiefs, when they saw it,

began to say it would sink, and communicated their fears to Mtesa, who

half believed them. But the Emperor’s women said to him: “Leave Stamlee

alone; he would not make such a thing if he did not know that it would

float.”

_Oct. 8._—On receiving orders to launch it, I selected sixty paddlers

and 150 musketeers of the bodyguard to stand by to embark as soon as it

should be afloat, and appointed Tori and one of my own best men to

superintend its navigation, and told them to close the gate of the fort

as soon as they pushed off from the land. About 1000 men were then set

to work to launch it, and soon it was floating in the water, and when

the crew and garrison, 214 souls, were in it, it was evident to all that

it rode the waves of the lake easily and safely—

“The invention all admired, and each how he

To be the inventor missed, so easy it seemed

Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought

Impossible”—

and a burst of applause from the army rewarded the inventor.

Several long blue Kaniki and white and red cloths were hoisted above

this curious structure, which, when closed up all round, appeared to

move of its own accord in a very mysterious manner, and to conceal

within its silent and impenetrable walls some dread thing, well

calculated to strike terror into the mind of the ignorant savage.

_Oct. 13._—At eight o’clock on the morning of the 13th of October the

army was assembled at Nakaranga with unusual display, and it was

proclaimed across the strait from the extremity of the causeway that a

terrible thing was approaching which would blow them into atoms if they

did not make peace at once and acknowledge the power of Mtesa; and I

believe that they declared that all the Muzimus and the charms of Uganda

were within, for I heard something said about Muzimu and Uganda. The old

Mvuma chief was also placed in prominent view, and induced to urge them

to accept the terms which Mtesa offered, viz. pardon to all, provided

they went through the form of submission. After this announcement, which

was made with all gravity, the awful mysterious structure appeared,

while the drums beat a tremendous sound, and the multitude of horns blew

a deafening blast.

It was a moment of anxiety to me, for manifold reasons. The fort,

perfectly defensible in itself against the most furious assaults by men

armed with spears, steadily approached the point, then steered direct

for the island of Ingira, until it was within fifty yards.

“Speak,” said a stentorian voice amid a deathly silence within. “What

will you do? Will you make peace and submit to Mtesa, or shall we blow

up the island? Be quick and answer.”

There was a moment’s consultation among the awe-stricken Wavuma.

Immediate decision was imperative. The structure was vast, totally

unlike anything that was ever visible on the waters of their sea. There

was no person visible, yet a voice spoke clear and loud. Was it a

spirit, the Wazimu of all Uganda, more propitious to their enemy’s

prayers than those of the Wavuma? It might contain some devilish, awful

thing, something similar to the evil spirits which in their hours of

melancholy and gloom their imagination invoked. There was an audacity

and confidence in its movements that was perfectly appalling.

“Speak,” repeated the stern voice; “we cannot wait longer.”

Immediately, to our relief, a man, evidently a chief, answered, “Enough,

let Mtesa be satisfied. We will collect the tribute to-day, and will

come to Mtesa. Return, O spirit, the war is ended!” At which the

mysterious structure solemnly began its return back to the cove where it

had been constructed, and the quarter of a million of savage human

beings, spectators of the extraordinary scene, gave a shout that seemed

to split the very sky, and Ingira’s bold height repeated the shock of

sound back to Nakaranga.

Three hours afterwards a canoe came from Ingira Island, bearing fifty

men, some of whom were chiefs. They brought with them several tusks of

ivory, and two young girls, daughters of the two principal chiefs of

Uvuma. These were the tribute. The ivory was delivered over to the

charge of the steward, and the young girls were admitted to the harem of

Mtesa, into the mystery of which no man dare penetrate and live. The old

Mvuma chief was surrendered to his tribe, and thus the long war

terminated on the evening of the 13th of October, 1875.

Glad shouts from both sides announced all parties equally pleased. The

same afternoon the canoe fleet of Uganda, which had by this time been

reduced to 275 in number, was escorted as far as Jinja by twenty Wavuma

canoes, and after it had departed and rounded Namagongo Point, releasing

their late foe from all fear of treachery, the Wavuma canoes presented

us with a peaceful exhibition of their dexterity, and gave us an

opportunity of viewing them more distinctly than we had previously been

able to do through the smoke of gunpowder.

_Oct. 15._—We set out next morning, the 15th of October, at three

o’clock. We were wakened by the tremendous “Jojussu,” the great king of

war-drums. Instantly we began to pack up, but I was scarcely dressed

before my people rushed up to me, crying that the immense camp was fired

in a hundred different places. I rushed out of my hut, and was astounded

to see that the flames devoured the grass huts so fast that, unless we

instantly departed, we should be burnt along with them. Hastily

snatching my pistols, I bade the Wangwana shoulder the goods and follow

me as they valued their lives.

The great road from Mtesa’s quarters to Nakaranga Point, though 100 feet

wide, was rendered impassable by furious, overlapping waves of fire.

There was only one way left, which was up the slope of Nakaranga

mountain, and through the camp of the Wasoga. We were not alone in the

attempt to escape by this way, for about 60,000 human beings had sought

the same path, and were wedged into an almost solid mass, so great was

the danger and the anxiety to be away from the cruel sea of fire below.

It was a grand scene, but a truly terrible one; and I thought, as I

looked down on it, that the Waganda were now avenging the dead Wavuma

with their own hands, for out of a quarter of a million human beings

there must have been an immense number of sick unable to move. Besides

these, what numbers of witless women and little ones having lost

presence of mind must have perished; and how many must have been

trampled down by the rush of such a vast number to escape the

conflagration! The wide-leaping, far-reaching tongues of flame

voraciously eating the dry, tindery material of the huts, and blown by a

strong breeze from the lake, almost took my breath away, and several

times I felt as if my very vitals were being scorched; but with heads

bent low we charged on blindly, knowing no guide save the instinct of

self-preservation.

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[_To face page 268._

[Illustration: THE NAPOLEON CHANNEL, LAKE VICTORIA, FROM THE HEIGHTS

ABOVE THE RIPON FALLS. FLOTILLA OF THE EMPEROR OF UGANDA CROSSING FROM

USOGA TO UGANDA.]

(_From a photograph by the Author._)

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As soon as an opportunity permitted, I looked after the laggards of my

party, and by dint of severity kept them together, but three or four

were more than half inclined to give in before we breathed cooler air,

and could congratulate ourselves upon our safety.

Indignant at such a murderous course, for I mentally taxed Mtesa with

this criminal folly, I marched my party far from the route of the

Waganda army, and though repeatedly urged by Mtesa to attach myself to

his party, I declined to do so until he should explain to me why he had

commanded the camp to be fired without giving warning to his people or

to myself, his guest. His messenger at once acquitted him of such gross

recklessness, and declared that he had arrested several persons

suspected of having fired the camp, and that he himself had suffered the

loss of goods and women in the flames. I thereupon, glad that he was not

the author of the catastrophe, sent my salaams, and a promise to rejoin

him at Ugungu, on the Uganda side of the Ripon Falls, which I did on the

18th of October.

[Illustration:

FISH FOUND IN LAKE VICTORIA.

Sama-Moa, in the Nyassa tongue; round, open-mouthed, scaled, and

pig-headed-looking creature, 20 inches long.

]

Through the Dark Continent, Vol. 1 (of 2) · 第 13 / 18 章