ZANZIBAR--SHOOTING HIPPOPOTAMI
[Sidenote: 1860. Aug. 18.]
Arrived at Zanzibar. Having expressed a wish to see the hippopotamus
in his native state, Speke, being aware of my weakness, kindly invited
me to accompany him to where sport was almost a certainty. It was
necessary to procure a dhow, on board which a party could live.
[Sidenote: Aug. 19.]
Our proposed trip soon got wind. An unusual noise throughout Sunday
night on board the Sultan’s yacht was accounted for in the morning by
one Captain Mahomet informing us, which we had been well aware of, viz.
that he had been all the night bending sails, and half the morning
bastinadoing his crew; he stated he had received orders to convey me
across the channel.
[Sidenote: Aug. 21.]
From this infliction I, however, excused myself, as well as from that
of the company of the half-civilised, drunken rogue who commanded
her. Through the kind influence of Colonel Rigby, Luddah, a Banyan,
British subject, and head of the Customs, placed at our disposal a
new dhow, with a captain and fourteen Arabs. Hoping to expedite their
movements, Speke, Heneage, and myself embarked on Monday night, so as
to start early the following morning; but at that time we were not as
experienced in Arab movements as we have since been. It commenced
raining soon after we got on board, and on our taking shelter below we
found the deck overhead leaked, and the stench from the bilge water
sickening. We got under weigh at 10 A.M.; at 5 P.M. anchored in an
extensive bay off a village called Kesooku. About the bay were shoal
patches of sand and several small islands with mangrove bushes, over
the roots of which the tide flowed when up; it was on and about these
islands that we expected to find our game.
We were welcomed to the village by a Bombay Banyan Chief. Having given
us a refreshing drink from green cocoanuts, he cleared out part of
a store hut for our accommodation. We made up our beds outside on
stretchers under the shade of the projecting roof.
It appears that the habits of the hippopotami are to land at night for
food, betaking themselves to the retirement of the small islands before
break of day. Such unwieldy brutes cannot travel on shore without
leaving marks, by which they are easily traced, and generally return to
the water by the same paths. As they are never molested by the natives,
we thought we might intercept them before they went to rest, and
intended to be up at 3 o’clock, but it rained and our native servants
neglected to call us. We went later to try for guinea-fowl, which were
said to be plentiful and excellent eating. A covey of them was seen but
not got at.
Our next plan was to proceed to the patches of islands in the bay, so
as to reach them before low water, about which time our experienced
friend, Speke, considered that the hippopotami would be more likely to
be caught napping or basking in the mud. We approached the islet with
caution.
[Illustration: _A right and left shot._]
I shall not forget the first wild hippopotamus I saw: a huge ugly
brute, standing up to his middle in water, apparently indifferent to
our approach, until within fifty yards, when he moved leisurely towards
some rocks where the water was deep and disappeared. On rounding the
rocks, we opened on an extended sand-flat and observed several Sibuko,
half in the water, with one fine fellow standing separate. To the left,
and within forty yards of him, was a small clump of trees. As soon as
our boat grounded, took up my position, as prearranged, on that side,
and stalking under shelter of bushes, got pretty close, with a rest for
my gun. Speke and Heneage had spread out to the right, so as to cut off
his retreat that way to the sea. Within forty yards, when I thought
they were quite ready, I fired _my first shot_. The monster seemed
more astonished than hurt, although a stream of blood from the side of
his neck showed where my ball had told. While he hesitated, the others
broke away in a parallel direction to that I was moving in. They were
close together, the head of the Hippo nearest to me being a little in
rear of the shoulder of his companion. Had my double-barrel smooth-bore
ready. It does not often fall to the lot of man to get right and left
shots at a brace of hippopotami. I took the nearest; hit him just
behind the ears, struck the spine, and brought him on his knees. The
thick skull of the other turned my second ball.
Instead of dropping, as I expected, he took a survey of the ground,
hesitated a minute, eyed his dying chum, and made a rush to the path
where I stood. With all due deference, I made a move out of his way,
fell backward, gun going off.
Before I was on my legs I heard Speke’s gun: Sibuko had had his
quietus. I now seated myself on the root of a tree near where my first
Sibuko lay; while contemplating the monster, I felt a drop of blood
on the back of my hand, and looking up, found that I had shot the
dark native who carried my spare ammunition, he having taken refuge
when the Hippo No. 2 made his charge in my direction. We got the poor
fellow down, moaning and crying; found the ball had passed through the
fleshy part of his thigh without touching the bone. The next day he was
taken across to the hospital. After a few days and a small donation he
was ready and willing to be shot at again! The dead Sibuko was given
the natives to eat: it was curious to see how cleverly they cut the
flesh, or rather the fat, before taking the skin off, beginning at the
backbone and cutting straight down in strips about four inches square,
apparently to me of solid fat, and portioned according to the number
in a greedy family. Of course I retained the head, which, with the
other, was recovered from the natives and buried in the hot sand; after
a few days they were taken out sweet and clean, the latter operation
performed by white ants. They now occupy, or ought to, a place in the
Winchester Museum.