SCENE IN CAMP AT NYANGWE.
SCENE IN CAMP AT NYANGWE.
To all these Stanley agreed, except the one promising, if he concluded to go on at the end of the sixty marches, to give him two-thirds of the men ofthe expedition to see him safely back. On this article of agreement there was a hitch, and Stanley showed his Yankee education, if not Yankee birth, by putting in a last article, by which, if Tipo-tipo through cowardice should fail to complete his sixty marches, he should forfeit his $5,000, and have no escort for his return. Stanley then gave him time to think of it, while he went to see young Pocoke and confer with him. They went over the whole ground together, and Stanley told him it was a matter of life and death with both of them; failure would be certain and perhaps horrible death; success would be honor and glory. It was a fearful picture he drew of the possible future, but Frank's ready response was, "go on."
At this point Stanley reveals one of his strongest characteristics, which we mentioned in the sketch of him at the beginning of the book—the Napoleonic quality of relying on himself. Ordinary well-established principles and rules often condemned the action of Bonaparte—results approved them. So ordinary prudence would have turned Stanley back as it did Cameron—the stories told him of the character of the tribes in advance—the obstacles he would have to encounter, all the mystery, perils and uncertainty of the future—the universal warning and fearful prognostications of those who were supposed to know best—his isolated condition in the heart of Africa—all things that could surround a man to deter him in hisactions, were gathered there around that lonely man at that outpost of civilized enterprise; yet, falling back on himself, rising superior to all outward influences, gauging all the probabilities and possibilities by his own clear perceptions and indomitable will, he determined to push forward. If he could not get canoes, which he feared he could not any more than Cameron, then he would try to follow the river by land; if that failed, he would make canoes in the African forest; if he could not go peaceably, he would fight his way, and not turn back till deserted by his own men and left alone in the midst of a savage, hostile people. This determination, under the circumstances, shows him to be no ordinary character, and marks him as one who in a revolution would control the stormy elements around him and mount to power or to the scaffold.
There were also minor obstacles attending this desperate effort to trace the Lualaba to the sea. He had thirteen women in his expedition, wives of his chief Arabs, some of them with young children, others in various stages of pregnancy, who would be delivered of children before they reached the Atlantic coast, and under what circumstances the hour of travail might come no one knew. It might be in the hour of battle, or in the desperate race for life, when one hour's delay would be total ruin to the expedition and death to all. It might be in the struggle and fight around a cataract, orin the day of extreme famine. A thousand things had to be taken into consideration before resolving on this desperate movement. But no matter, the obstacles might even be more formidable than represented, the risk tenfold greater, his mind was made up—the secrets of that mysterious river he would unlock, or his last struggles and mysterious fate would add one more to the secrets it held.
At length the contract with Tipo-tipo to escort him sixty marches was made and signed, and then Stanley informed his own men of it, and told them that if at the end of that time they came across a caravan bound for the west coast, part would join it, and the rest might, if they wished, return to Nyangwe. They agreed to stand by the contract and Stanley moved forward into Nyangwe. Here Stanley was received by one of the two Arab chiefs that bear sway in the place, with becoming courtesy. He seemed surprised at the orderly, quiet march of this force, and still more when told that the distance from Tanganika, some three hundred and forty miles, had been made in about forty days.
Stanley describes minutely the place and its political management, but seems, like Livingstone and Cameron, to be particularly struck with its market. This is held every fourth day, and from one to three thousand people assemble to trade; most of the vendors are women, and the animatedmanner in which trade is carried on amused Livingstone exceedingly. Though he could not understand their language he could interpret their gestures, which were very expressive. This pleasant scene, however, was marred one day by a messenger stalking into the market with ten jawbones of men tied to a string and hanging over his shoulder, he boasting of having killed and eaten these men and describing with his knife how he cut them up.
Early in the morning of the market-day the river, as far as its course can be seen, presents a lively appearance. It is covered with canoes loaded to their gunwales with natives and articles for the market piled on each other, and they all press toward one point. Amid the laughter and jargon of the natives, may be heard the crowing of cocks, and squealing of pigs and the bleating of goats. Having reached the landing-place, the men quietly shoulder their paddles and walk up the bank, leaving the women to carry the articles up to the market-place. These are placed in large baskets and slung on their backs by a strap across their foreheads. When this great crowd of two or three thousand are assembled the babel begins. But the talking and chaffering are done by the women; the men move about paying but little attention to the bartering, unless something important, as the sale of a slave, is going on. The women do not walk about, but having selecteda spot where they propose to do business, they let down the basket, and spreading the articles on the ground so as to appear to the best advantage, they squat themselves in the basket, where they look like some huge shell-fish.
The vendors being thus stationary, the buyers also become so, and hence it is always a close, jammed mass of human beings, screaming, sweating and sending forth no pleasant odor, for three or four hours. They do not break up gradually, but on the movement of some important person a general scramble will commence, and in twenty minutes the whole two thousand or more will be scattered in every direction. The markets of this region are held on neutral ground by the various tribes, and their feuds are laid aside for that day. Except at Nyangwe, uninhabited spots are selected. The neighboring chiefs are always present, and can be seen lounging lazily about. Stanley counted fifty-seven different articles for sale, ranging from sweet potatoes to beautiful girls, while the currency was shells, beads, copper and brass wire and palm cloth.
There are two foreign chiefs at the place, who are very jealous of each other, as each wished to be regarded by the natives as the most powerful. Sheikh Abed, a tall, thin old man with a white beard, occupies the southern section of the town, and Muini Dugumbi the other. It has not long been an Arab trading post, for Dugumbi is thefirst Arab that came here, and that was no later than 1868, and pitched his quarters, and now the huts of his friends, with their families and slaves, number some three hundred. He is an Arab trader from the east coast, and soon after his arrival he established a harem, composed of more than three hundred slave women. Though a rollicking, joking man himself, his followers are a reckless, freebooting set. The original inhabitants of Nyangwe were driven out by Muini Dugumbi, and now occupy portions of both sides of the river, and live by fishing, and are said to be a singular tribe. Stanley estimated there must have been forty-two thousand of them in the region previous to the coming of this Arab chief, who spread desolation on every side. There remain to-day only twenty thousand of this people.
Stanley remained here only about a week, for Tipo-tipo arriving on the 2d of November, he prepared to start on his unknown journey. The expedition, when he mustered it on the morning of the 4th, numbered one hundred and seventy-six, armed with sixty-three muskets and rifles, two double-barreled guns and ten revolvers. Besides these, there were sixty-eight axes, that Stanley, with great forethought, purchased, thinking the time might come when he would need them as much as his guns. Tipo-tipo brought with him seven hundred followers, though only four hundred were to accompany the expedition the sixtymarches. Together, they made quite a little army, but many of them were women and children, who always accompany the Arabs in their marches or forays; still, the force, all drawn up, presented an imposing display. A hundred of these were armed with flint-lock muskets, the rest with spears and shields.
On the 5th of November, Stanley, at the head of his motley array, turned his back on Nyangwe and his face to the wilderness. It was an eventful morning for him. Eighteen hundred miles of an unknown country stretched before him, wrapped in profound mystery, peopled with races of which the outside world had never heard, and filled with dangers that would appall the bravest heart. He felt, as he turned and gave a last look at Nyangwe, that the die was cast—his fate for good or ill was sealed. What sad misgivings must at times have made a feeling of faintness creep over his heart—what terrible responsibilities must have crowded upon him; aye, what gloomy forebodings, in spite of his courage, would weigh down his spirit. If he had used canoes, the starting would have been more cheerful, but the dense and tangled forest, whose dark line could be traced against the sky, wore a forbidding aspect. They marched but nine miles the first day, and though the country was open, the manner in which the men bore it did not promise well for their endurance when they should enter the jungle. Every pound was carried on men's shoulders, besidestheir weapons, all the provisions, stores of cloth, and beads, and wire, the arms and ammunition, of which there had to be a large quantity, for they might be two years fighting their way across the continent, and in addition to these burdens, the boat in sections. The next morning, Tipo-tipo's heterogeneous crowd started first, which impeded the march by frequent halts, for the women and children had to be cared for. They soon entered the gloomy forest of Mitamba, where the marching became more difficult, and the halts more frequent, while the dew fell from the trees in great rain-drops, wetting the narrow path they were following, till the soil became a thick mud. The heavy foliage shut out the sky, and the disordered caravan marched on in gloomy twilight, and at last, drenched to the skin, reached a village four miles from camp and waited for the carriers of the boat to arrive. These found the boat a heavy burden, for the foliage grew so thick and low over the path, that the sections had to be pushed by sheer force through it. To make the camp even more gloomy, one of the Arab chiefs who had been in the forest before, said, with great complacency, that what they had endured was nothing to that which was before them. The next day the path was so overgrown and obstructed by fallen trees, that axemen had to go before the carriers of the boat to clear the way for them. On the 10th, having reached Uregga, a village in the very heartof the forest, they halted for a rest. Its isolated inhabitants seemed to be in advance of those whom Stanley had seen elsewhere. The houses were built in blocks, which were square like those of Manyema, and they contained various fancy articles, some of them displaying great taste. Here Stanley saw curiously carved bits of wood, and handsome spoons, and for the first time in Africa, he beheld a cane settee.
The men carrying the boat did not come up for two days, and then quite broken and disheartened. Indeed, here almost at the very outset, everything seemed to point to an early dissolution of the expedition. Not only were his men discontented, but Tipo-tipo, with all his elegance of manner and pompous pretence, began to glower and grumble, not merely at the hardships his people were compelled to encounter, but because sickness had broken out in his camp.
On the 13th, three hundred out of the seven hundred of his men branched off from the expedition. The marching now became not only monotonous but extremely painful, and so slow that it took a whole day's march to make a distance of nine miles—a rate of progress that Stanley saw very clearly would never bring him to the Atlantic Ocean. They had now been seven days on the march and had made but about forty miles, and scarcelyonemile west. Thus far their course had been almost due north toward the great desertof Sahara, and not toward the Atlantic Ocean. These five days had been utterly thrown away, so far as progress in the right direction was concerned; not an inch had been gained, and the whole expedition was discouraged. The carriers of the boat begged Stanley to throw it away or go back to Nyangwe, while the Arab chiefs made no attempt to conceal their discontent, but openly expressed their disinclination to proceed any farther. Even the splendid barbarian dandy, Tipo-tipo, who prided himself on his superiority to all other Arabs, began to look moody, while increasing sickness in the camp cast additional gloom over it. Huge serpents crossed their path, while all sorts of wild beasts and vermin peopled the dense forest and swarmed around them.
On the 15th, they made but six miles and a half and yet, short as was the distance, it took the men carrying the boat twenty-four hours to make it, and all were so weary that a halt of an entire day was ordered to let them rest. In addition to this, the forest became ten times more matted than before. Both the heavier timber and the undergrowth grew thicker and thicker, shutting out not only the light of the sun, but every particle of moving air, so that the atmosphere became suffocating and stifling. Panting for breath, the little army crawled and wormed itself through the interlacing branches, and when night came down were utterly disheartened. Even the elegant Tipo-tiponow gave out, and came to Stanley to be released from his engagement. It was in vain that the latter appealed to his honor, his pride and fear of ridicule should he now turn back to Nyangwe. But to everything he could urge, the very sensible answer was returned: "If there is nothing worse than this before us, it will yet take us, at the rate we are going, a year to make the sixty marches and as long a time to return. You are only killing everybody by your obstinacy; such a country was never made for decent men to travel in, it was made for pagans and monkeys."
It is in circumstances like these that those qualities which have made Stanley the most successful explorer of modern times, exhibit themselves. Napoleon said, when speaking of troops, "Even brave soldiers have their 'moment de peur,'" the time when they shrink. But this man seems an exception to this rule. To him the moment of fear never seems to come, for he never feels the contagion of example. He adheres to his resolution to go on, if but a handful stand by him. He seems impervious to the contagion that seizes others, and a panic in battle would sweep by him unmoved. After talking to Tipo-tipo for two hours, he finally got him to agree to accompany him twenty marches farther.
There were two things in this village, shut up in the heart of the forest, that impressed Stanley very much. He found here a primitive forge, in whichthe natives smelted iron-ore, found in the neighborhood, and a smithy, in which the iron was worked up into instruments of all kinds, from a small knife to a cleaver; hatchets, hammers, even wire and ornaments for the arms and legs were made. How this rude people, to whom even an Arab trader had never come, should have discovered the properties of iron-ore, how to disengage the iron and then work it into every variety of instruments, is inexplicable. The whole must have been the product of the brain of some native genius.
The other remarkable thing was a double row of skulls, running the entire length of the village, set in the ground, leaving the naked, round top glistening in the sun. There were nearly two hundred of them. Amazed, he asked his Arabs what they were, they replied "soko skulls." The soko, Cameron calls a gorilla, and we have no doubt many of the remarkable stories about gorillas refer to this monkey. But Livingstone says it is an animal resembling the gorilla, and his account of their habits shows they are not the fierce, fearless gorilla that is afraid of neither man nor beast. The soko is about four feet ten inches in height, and often walks erect, with his hands resting on his head as if to steady himself. With a yellow face adorned with ugly whiskers, a low forehead and high ears, he looks as if he might be a hideous cross between a man and a beast.His teeth, though dog-like in their size, still slightly resemble those found in the human head. The fingers are almost exactly like the natives. He is cunning and crafty, and will often stalk a man or woman as stealthily as a hunter will a deer. He seldom does much damage, unless driven to bay, when he fights fiercely. He takes great pleasure in nabbing children and carrying them up into a tree and holding them in his arms, but if a bunch of bananas is thrown on the ground he will descend, and leaving the child, will seize it. He seldom uses his teeth, but in conflict with a man he has been known to bite off his opponent's fingers and then let him go. They are hunted and trapped by the natives for their flesh, which is regarded as very good eating.
NATIVES HUNTING SOKOS
NATIVES HUNTING SOKOS.
Stanley, not satisfied with the answer of his men concerning the skulls, sent for the chief and asked him whose they were. He said of the sokos, which they hunt because of the destruction they make of the bananas, and that their meat was good. Stanley offered him a hundred cowries if he would bring one to him alive or dead. The chief went into the woods to hunt them, but at evening returned without success. He, however, gave him a portion of what he affirmed to be the skin of one. Stanley had the curiosity to take two of these skulls home with him, and gave them to Professor Huxley to examine, who reported they were the skulls of aman and a woman. Stanley, therefore, came to the conclusion that they were the skulls of men and women who had been eaten by these cannibals. But we do not believe this conclusion fairly justifiable, from Professor Huxley's report on two skulls. In the first place, the Arabs would scarcely have made such a mistake as this implies—they had seen too many soko skulls. In the second place, the chief corroborated their statement, and he had no reason for telling a falsehood. If those skulls were placed thus prominently in the streets, it was to boast of them, not to lie about them. It is far more likely that there were a few human skulls mixed in with the sokos, and that when Stanley asked for a couple, the largest and best-shaped were selected for him which proved to belong to human beings. His hunting for one was certainly not to prove he had told Stanley a falsehood. The same peculiarity was noticed here that Baker mentions of the natives of Fatiko—the women go naked, while the men are partly covered with skins. The whole apparel of the women is an apron four inches square.
On the 19th of March, they reached the Lualaba, sweeping majestically through the silent forest. Stanley immediately determined there should be no more tangled forests for him, but that the broad current of the river should bear him to the Atlantic Ocean or to death. The camp was prepared and the breakfast eaten, while Pocoke wasgetting the Lady Alice screwed together. Soon she was launched on the stream, amid the huzzas of the party. Although the river here was nearly three-quarters of a mile wide, and the opposite shore appeared like an uninhabited forest, yet sharp eyes detected the wonderful apparition that had appeared on the farther shore, and the news spread so rapidly, that when Stanley in the Lady Alice approached it, he saw the woods alive with human beings, and several canoes tied to the shore. He hailed them, and tried to make a bargain with them to transport his party across. They refused point-blank, but afterwards seemed to relent and offered to exchange blood-brotherhood with them, and appointed a place on a neighboring island where the ceremony should be performed. It was, however, discovered that it was a treacherous plot to murder them, and but for precautions taken in view of its possibility, there would have been a fight.
Stanley now determined to cross his men by detachments in his own boat. He took over thirty above the village and told the natives that they had better assist him in carrying over the rest, for which he promised they should be well paid. They finally consented, and the whole expedition was soon landed safely on the left bank of the river.
Having been ferried across the river by the natives, Stanley felt quite secure of the friendship of this first tribe he had met on the banks of the Lualaba. But here he resolved to change its name to Livingstone, which ever after he continues to call it. Villages lined the banks, all, he says, adorned with skulls of human beings. But instead of finding the inhabitants of them friendly, there were none to be seen; all had mysteriously disappeared, whether from fright or to arouse the tribes below, it was impossible to determine; it seemed from the former, for notwithstanding they had overcome their first fear so much as to ferry the expedition across the river, they had not taken away their canoes, nor carried with them their provisions. Leaving these untouched, as a sort of promise to the tribes below that their property should be held sacred, the expedition took up its march down the river. Stanley, with thirty-three men, went by water, in the Lady Alice, while Tipo-tipo and young Pocoke with the rest of the party marched along the bank. Village after village was passed; the natives uttering their wild war-cry, and then disappearingin the forest, leaving everything behind them. Whether it was a peaceful village, or a crowded market-place they passed, they inspired the same terror, and huts and market-places were alike deserted. This did not promise well for the future.
In the middle of the afternoon, Stanley, in the Lady Alice, came to a river one hundred yards wide. Knowing that the land party could not cross this without a boat, he halted to wait for its approach in order to ferry it over, and built a strong camp. This was on November 23d, 1876. At sunset it had not arrived, and he became anxious. Next morning it did not make its appearance, and still more anxious, he ascended this river, named the Ruigi, several miles, to see if they had struck it farther up.
Returning, in the afternoon without hearing anything of the expedition, he was startled as he approached the camp, by the rapid firing of guns. Alarmed, he told the rowers to bend to their oars, and sweeping rapidly downward, he soon came to the mouth of the stream and found it blocked with canoes filled with natives. Dashing down upon them with loud shouts, they fled in every direction. One dead man floating in the stream was the only result of the first fight on the Livingstone.
The day wore away and night came down, and silence and solitude rested on the forest stretching along the banks of the Ruigi, where heanxiously waited to hear musket-shots announcing the arrival of the land party. It was a long and painful night, for one of two things was certain; Tipo-tipo and Pocoke had lost their way or had been attacked and overpowered. The bright tropical sun rose over the forest east of the river Ruigi, but its banks were silent and still. Stanley could not endure the suspense any longer, and dispatched Uledi, with five of the boat's crew, to seek the wanderers. This Uledi, hereafter to the close of the march, becomes a prominent figure. Stanley had made him coxswain of the boat Lady Alice, and he had proved to be one of the most trustworthy men of the expedition, and was to show himself in its future desperate fortunes, one of the most cool and daring, worthy, only half-civilized as he was, to stand beside Stanley. The latter gave him strict directions as to his conduct in hunting up the fugitives—especially respecting the villages he might come across. Uledi told Stanley not to be anxious—he would soon find the lost party.
Stanley, of course, could do nothing but wait, though filled with the most anxious thoughts. The river swept by calmly as ever, unconscious of the troubled hearts on its banks; the great forest stood silent and still in the tropical sun, and the day wore away as it ever does, thoughtless of the destinies its hours are settling, and indifferent to the human suffering that crowds them. But atfour o'clock a musket-shot rang out of the woods, and soon Uledi appeared leading the lost party. They had gone astray and been attacked by the natives, who killed three of their number. Luckily they captured a prisoner, whom they forced to act as a guide to conduct them back to the river, and, after marching all day, met Uledi in search of them. They were ferried across and allowed to scatter abroad in search of food, which they took wherever found, without any regard to the rights of the natives. Necessity had compelled Stanley to relax his strict rules in this respect.
The next day the march was continued as before, communication being kept up by those on the land and on the water by drum-taps. The villages they passed were deserted—every soul fleeing at their approach. Proceeding down the river, they came across six abandoned canoes more or less injured. Repairing these, they lashed them together as a floating hospital for the sick of the land party, the number of which had greatly increased from the exposures and hardships they were compelled to undergo. In the afternoon they came upon the first rapids they had met. Some boats, attempting their descent, were upset and attacked by the natives, who were, however, soon beaten off. Four Snider rifles were lost, which brought down on Pocoke, who had permitted the Arabs to run this risk, a severe rebuke, and a still severer one on the Arab chief, who had asked the former to lethim make the attempt. The chief, enraged at the reproaches heaped upon him, went to Tipo-tipo, and declared that he would not serve Stanley any longer. This, together with the increased hostility of the natives, the alarming sickness, and the dangerous rapids, brought the head chief to Stanley with a solemn appeal to turn back before it was too late. But the latter had reached a point where nothing but absolute fate could turn him back.
The rapids were passed in safety by the canoe—the Lady Alice being carried around them on men's shoulders. Natives were occasionally met, but no open hostility was shown for several days. The river would now be contracted by the bold shores, and rush foaming along and now spread into lake-like beauty, dotted with green islands, the quiet abodes of tropical birds and monkeys, which filled the air with a jargon of sounds.
On the 4th of December they came to a long, straggling town, composed of huts only seven feet long by five wide, standing apart, yet connected by roofs, the intervening spaces covered and common to the inhabitants of both the adjacent huts. It was, however, deserted, like the rest. This persistent desertion was almost as dispiriting as open hostility, and an evil fate seemed to hang over the expedition. The sickness kept increasing, and day after day all that broke the monotony of the weary hours was the tossing over now and then of dead bodies into the river. The land partypresented a heart-broken appearance as they crawled, at night, laden with the sick and dying, into camp. At this place Stanley found an old, battered, abandoned canoe, capable of carrying sixty people. This he repaired, and added it to his floating hospital.
On the 8th of December he came to another large town, the inhabitants of which, in spite of all attempts to make peace, were determined to fight. With fourteen canoes they approached the bank on which the land party were encamped, and commenced shooting their arrows. This lasted for some time, when Stanley took the Lady Alice and dashed among them, pouring in at the same time such a close and deadly fire that they turned and fled.
The story of the slow drifting and marching of the expedition down the Livingstone is a very monotonous one to read, but was full of the deepest interest to the travelers, for the forest on either side of the great river seemed filled with horns and war-drums, while out from a creek or from behind an island canoes would dart and threaten an attack. Floating peacefully through those primeval forests on this stately river, bearing them ever on to the unknown, would make the heart heave with emotion, but when danger and death were ever present, the intensest feelings were aroused.
At length they came to a series of villages lining the bank and surrounded with plenty. There wasa large population, and the natives, at the approach of Stanley, blew their ivory horns and beat their drums, and soon a whole fleet of canoes, heavily manned, attacked the little party in the boat. By a bold dash Stanley was able to seize and occupy the lower village, where he quickly intrenched himself. The savages came down in immense numbers, filling the air with hideous shouts and rushed on the slender defenses with desperate fury. It was astonishing to see these men, to whom fire-arms were new, show so little fear of them. They were the boldest fighters Stanley had as yet encountered in Africa, and though he punished them severely they kept up the attack, with short intervals between, for nearly two days. At last the appearance of Tipo-tipo along the bank with the land forces made them beat a retreat, which they did with a tremendous noise of horns and loud threats of vengeance. Out of the few with Stanley, four were killed and thirteen wounded, or seventeen out of forty—nearly half of the whole force. This showed desperate fighting, and as the enemy advanced by hundreds their loss must have been fearful.
Stanley, who was equal in stratagem to an American Indian, played them a trick that night which took all their bravado out of them. Waiting till he thought they were asleep, he took the Lady Alice, and Frank Pocoke a canoe, and both with muffled oars, rowed up the river to find theircamp. It was a rainy, dark and windy night, and, hence, favorable to the enterprise he had in hand, and his movements were undiscovered. By the light of a fire on the bank he ascertained the location of the camp, and advancing cautiously saw some forty canoes drawn up on shore. Bidding Frank go down stream and lie to, to catch them as they floated down, he quietly cut them all adrift. They were caught by the former, and by midnight were at Stanley's camp. He knew that he now had them in his power, and so in the morning proceeded to their camp and made offers of peace, which they were glad to accept on the condition that their canoes were returned to them. This was agreed to and blood-brotherhood made. Stanley, however, whose great need had been canoes, determined not to let all these slip through his hands, and retained twenty-three, giving back only fifteen.
Tipo-tipo now told Stanley that he would proceed no further, his people were dying rapidly, the difficulties of marching were increasing and he must return. The latter saw he was determined to go, although eight marches remained to be made, and released him. In truth, now he had boats enough to carry his entire expedition, Tipo-tipo, cumbered with the sick, would be a burden rather than a help, and at the rate they were moving, eight marches, more or less, would not amount to much. Besides, marching by land, Stanley sawmust be given up or they would never get to the sea. Thus far they had scarcely made any westing at all, having gone almost due north, and were nearly as far from the Atlantic Ocean as when they left Nyangwe. The only thing he feared was the effect the departure of the escort would have on his men. In announcing to them that on the sixth day they should start down the river, he made them quite a speech, in which he asked them if he had not always taken good care of them and fulfilled all his promises, and said that if they would trust him implicitly he would surely bring them out to the ocean and see them safe back to Zanzibar. "As a father looks after his children," he said, "so will I look after you." A shout greeted him at the close. One of his chiefs followed in an address to the Arabs, while Uledi, the coxswain, spoke for the boatmen in a very satisfactory strain.
Preparations for starting were now set on foot, canoes were mended, provisions gathered and everything that could be thought of provided against future contingencies. Christmas day came, and the poor fugitives had quite a frolic there in the wilderness. The twenty-three boats they had captured were christened by the men, amid much merriment, and then canoe races followed, rowed by both men and women; all wound up with a wild war-dance on the banks of the river.
The next day Tipo-tipo gave a grand dinner.The day after, the camps separated, and all intercourse between them ceased.
On the morning of the 28th, Stanley embarked his men to the sound of drum and trumpet, and Tipo-tipo hearing it in his camp, knew that the parting hour had come, and paraded his men on the bank. As the expedition slowly floated down the stream toward it, there was heard a deep, plaintive chant from the Arabs on the bank, as a hundred melodious voices arose in a farewell song; out from the dim forest, and over the rippling water it floated, in sweet melancholy strains, that touched every heart in that slowly-moving fleet of canoes. Louder and louder swelled the chant, increasing in volume and pathos, as the wanderers drew nearer. As they approached the Arab camp they saw the singers ranged in a row along the bank. Passing slowly by them, they waved a silent adieu, for their hearts were too full to speak. On they floated, and still the chant went on, until, at last, it died away in the distance, and sadness and silence rested on the stream. No one spoke a word, and Stanley cast his own eyes, not wholly dry, over the crowded boats, and was moved with the deepest pity. Nearly all were sitting with their faces hidden in their hands and sobbing. Those they were leaving behind were about to return to their homes—they to enter new dangers, out of which they might never emerge. No wonder they were sad, and it is singular that nota man, even of those who had before deserted, asked permission to go back. It was a mournful scene there in the wilds of Africa, and on that mysterious river, and Stanley said it was the saddest day in his whole life.
The casting of their fortunes in this desperate venture of his, shows what wonderful influence he had acquired over them, and with what devotion he had inspired them. No wonder his heart clung to them to the last, and he would never leave them, until he saw them safe again in their homes. In order to rouse the men, he shouted, "Sons of Zanzibar, lift up your heads and be men. What is there to fear? Here we are all together, like one family, with hearts united, all strong with the purpose to reach our home. See this river, it is the road to Zanzibar. When saw you a road so wide? Strike your paddles deep, and cry out 'Bismillah,' and let us forward." No shout greeted this appeal, as with sickly smiles they paddled downward. Uledi tried to sing, but it was such a miserable failure that his sad companions could not restrain a smile.
Stanley was now like Cortez when he burned his ships behind him—there was no returning—one and all must move on together to a common fate. All danger of desertion, for the present, was over, and he felt that the consciousness of there being no possible escape, and that one destiny awaited them all, not only bound them closer together, but would make them better fighters.
At first, on their downward march, they met a peaceful tribe, and then a hostile one which would listen to no terms, and whose reply to every request for peace was, "We don't want you; we will eat you." They, however, passed by unmolested, and swept down the river, astonished to see its banks so thickly populated. That night they encamped in a dense jungle, which was found to be the home of the hippopotamus in the dry season. Tipo-tipo had left with Stanley two cannibals that he had captured, to be used by him in conciliating the savages, as they knew their language. These tried their arts this night on the natives on the farther bank, who, no sooner espied the strangers, than they beat their drums andadvanced to attack them. The cannibals talked so eloquently and plausibly to them, that the savages withdrew and left them in peace. The next morning they came to the mouth of a large river named Lowwa, one thousand yards wide, and seemingly quite deep.
On the last day of the year, they were moving quietly down stream—the heavens bright above them and the banks green beside them—when they suddenly heard the hated war-drum sound; and soon the canoes of the natives shot out from both shores, and for a moment a collision seemed inevitable; but the two cannibals shoutedSennennch!"peace," so plaintively, that they desisted and the little fleet passed on unmolested. But the next day they met other boats which advanced, their crews shouting "we will eat you," but they were easily driven off. It produced a novel sensation in Stanley to be hailed every day and ordered to give himself up for a goodroast. At length they came to a peaceful tribe, from whom they obtained provisions.
Gathering such information as they could from the natives, they now continued on very quietly, when they were suddenly attacked by savages in canoes of immense size. One, eighty-five feet long, singled out the Lady Alice and made for it. The crew of the latter waited till it came within fifty feet, and then, pouring in a deadly volley, made a dash to run it down. The frightenedcrew, just before the collision, jumped overboard, leaving the big boat in the hands of Stanley.
Keeping on, after this little fight, they passed small tributaries, and at length heard the roar of a cataract below. But while they were listening to the unwelcome sound, there suddenly rose over it the wild, shrill war-cries of the savages from both sides of the river. There was no escape for the expedition now—they must turn and fight. Dropping their stone anchors near the bank, they poured in their volleys, but, not being able to dislodge this new foe, they pulled up their anchors and rowed up stream where Stanley divided his forces, and while one attracted the attention of the enemy in front, the other landed, and marching across the land, took them in the rear. As soon as Stanley heard the first shot announcing its arrival, he landed and attacked the enemy in front and routed them, and camped for the night undisturbed.
Next morning, however, the natives appeared again in strong numbers and attacked the camp. The fight was kept up for two hours, when a sally was ordered, and they charged on the enemy, who, though giving way, kept up the fight for four or five hours more. Two of Stanley's men were killed and ten wounded. The former were thrown into the river, for Stanley had determined to bury no more men till out of the cannibal country. This defeat of the natives gave the expedition afew days' rest, so that this first of the series of "Stanley falls," as they were named, could be thoroughly explored, not only for geographical purposes, but to ascertain the best way of getting around them. He found that the falls could not be run, and that a carry around them some two miles long must be made. A path was cleared with axes, and boat and canoes were taken from the water and carried with great labor, yet safely, overland, and launched once more on the stream without accident, and anchored in a creek near its entrance into the main river. Not wishing to remain here, the order to advance was given, and soon they were again afloat on the great river. Sweeping downward they heard the roar of another cataract, and, although the war-horns were resounding on every side, they encamped on an island in the middle of the river. The hostile natives on the island, filled with terror, escaped to the mainland. In the morning Stanley explored the island, and found it contained five villages, all now deserted, and in them was such a variety of implements as showed that the inhabitants were adepts in the manufacture of all kinds of iron tools.
The river was full of islands, winding among which, day after day, Stanley often found to be the only means of escape from the pertinacious cannibals. These islands presented a beautiful appearance with their luxuriant foliage, but while the eye was resting on loveliness, the ear would be salutedwith the sound of war-drums and hideous shouts. Whenever Stanley landed and visited a village from which the inhabitants had fled, he would see human bones scattered around, flung aside like oyster-shells, after the meat was removed, and at times the whole expedition felt as if they were destined to make a grand luncheon for these ferocious man-eaters.
The next day Stanley began to make preparations to get around the falls. The first thing was to clear himself of the savages that crowded the left bank and were ready to pounce on him any moment. So taking thirty-six men he led them through the bushes and drove the natives back to their villages, a mile distant, and after a desperate struggle he drove them out of these. He next cut a narrow path, three miles long, around the cataract. This was slow work, and as haste was imperative the men were kept at work all night, flaming torches lighting up the way and making the gloomy shadows of the strange forest deeper still. Camps were distributed at short intervals along the route, and to the first of these the canoes were carried before daylight. The savages made a rush on them but were driven back. At night another stretch of path was made, to which the canoes and baggage were hurried before the cannibals were astir in the morning. There was less hostility and the work went steadily on, and at last, after seventy-eight hours of unceasing labor andalmost constant fighting the river was again reached and the boats launched.
FIGHTING OUR WAY AROUND
FIGHTING OUR WAY AROUND.
This was accomplished on January 14th, but though the river had been reached, new perils awaited them. There was a stretch of two miles of rapids that must be passed. After six canoes had been passed safely, one was upset, and one of those in it, Zaidi, instead of swimming ashore, as the others did, clung to it and was borne helplessly down to the cataract below. But on the very verge was a solitary rock on which the boat drifted and split—one part jamming fast. To this the poor wretch clung with the strength of despair, while all around leaped and whirled and roared the boiling water. Those on shore shrieked in agony, and Stanley was hastily sent for. He immediately set to work making a rattan rope, in order to let down a boat to him by which he could be pulled ashore. But the rope was not strong enough, and snapped asunder as soon as the boat reached the heavy suck of water just above the falls, and it was whirled into the vortex below. Other and stronger ropes were then made and another canoe brought up and three ropes lashed to it. A couple of men would be needed to paddle and steer the boat so that it could reach the unfortunate wretch on his perilous perch, and volunteers were called for. But one glance at the wild and angry waves was enough, and no one responded. Stanley then appealed to theirfeelings, when the brave Uledi stepped forward and said "I will go." Others of the crew followed, but only one was needed. The two stepped calmly into the boat and pushed off—watched with intense anxiety by those on shore. Reaching a certain distance above the falls, it drifted rapidly down toward them, guided by those holding two of the cables on shore. The third floated from the stern of the boat for the poor wretch on the rock to seize. Attempt after attempt was made to get this within Zaidi's reach, but the whirling waters flung it about like a whip-lash. At length the boat was lowered so close to the brink of the falls that he was able to reach it, but no sooner had he seized it and flung himself loose, than he was borne over the edge and disappeared below. But he held on to the rope and soon his head appeared above the boiling waves, when the word was given to haul away. The strain, however, was too great, and the cables parted and away dashed the canoe toward certain destruction, and a cry of horror arose from those on shore, for all three now seemed inevitably lost. But Zaidi below, by hanging on to the rope, pulled the boat against the rock where it lay wedged. He was then pulled up, and the three crouched together on the rock. A stone was now tied to about three hundred feet of whip-cord and flung to them, but they failed to catch it. Again and again was it thrown only to be pulled in andrecast, but at last it whirled so close to them that they caught it. A heavy rope of rattan was then tied to it and drawn across and fastened, and a bridge thus secured.
But this had taken so much time that night came on before the work could be finished; the three wretched men were left therefore, to crouch on the rock, and wait for the morning. All night long they held on to their wild perch, while the water rushed, and boiled, and roared around them, and the deep thunder of the cataract rose in one deep monotone over all, so that they could not hear each other speak.
The next morning, early, the Arabs were set to work making more ropes, which were finally hauled across, and fastened round the waist of each man, and then, one by one, they leaped into the water and were drawn safely ashore, amid the joyous shouts of the people.
They now set to work cutting a road three miles long through the woods. Over this the canoes were hauled with great labor before the savages on the farther side knew what was going on. But the moment the canoes were afloat, the foe discovered them, and rushing forward with their canoes the battle commenced. Stanley dashed through them, and sweeping down stream for a mile, landed on the island where the tribe lived, and quietly detaching twenty men, sent them to the villages, while he kept the savages at bay.In a short time, the detachment returned, bringing with them a crowd of women and children as prisoners, and a large herd of sheep. The savages, when they saw these marching down to the landing-place, were taken so completely aback, that they stopped fighting at once, and withdrew to consult what was best to do in this extraordinary turn of affairs. They sat in their canoes, waiting to see their friends massacred. Negotiations for peace were soon opened and concluded, and the ceremony of blood-brotherhood was gone through with, the captives and herds were then surrendered up and friendly terms were established.
The fifth cataract was at the foot of this island and was safely passed, and the expedition encamped on the bank of the river, on a green plat of ground, and slept undisturbed. In the morning, to their unbounded surprise, they found themselves inclosed in a net of cord, reaching from the shore above the camp, to the shore below it, passing through the bushes. Stanley knew what this meant—that they were to be speared, when they approached it, like so many wild beasts. He at once ordered one of the chiefs, Manwa Sera, to take thirty men and row up the river a short distance and land, thence to march inland, and come up behind those lying in wait outside of the net. At the end of an hour he ordered men forward to cut the nets, when the firing commenced. The savages soonturned and fled, but to their astonishment, met the enemy advancing on them by the road leading from their villages, at which discovery they fled in every direction. Eight prisoners were, however, captured and brought into camp. On being questioned, they confessed that they were after man-meat and said that their tribe, which lived about a day's journey inland, ate old men and women and every stranger that fell into their hands.
They now kept down the river for several miles unmolested, until they heard the sullen roar of the sixth cataract rising over the woods, when they camped on the right bank, near an island covered with villages. Stanley knew what was before him here, and ordered a stockade to be commenced immediately. But, before this was finished, the everlasting drum and horn pealed through the woods and soon the savages were upon them. After a short fight, they retreated, followed by Stanley's soldiers to a large village, but there were only three or four old women in it, who were brought into camp. In a short time a heavier force approached and made a furious attack, but it was quickly driven back and two wounded men were taken prisoners. A part of Stanley's force was all this time cutting a path around the cataract. The next morning they set to work with a will and by noon passed it safely. Stanley having wormed out of his captives all theinformation he could of the surrounding country and the various tribes that inhabited it, set them free. Passing some rapids, they came to a village in which there was but a single old man, solitary and alone, who had been there for several days. The next day they halted to repair the boats. The persistent course of the river, till within the last few days to the north, and sometimes northeast, had troubled Stanley, and but for the immense volume of water that he knew had no eastern outlet, would have shaken his faith in its being the Congo. But, since he passed the last cataract he had noticed that it gradually deflected to the northwest, and now swept by almost due west, having evidently at last started on its journey for the sea. Long islands still divided the river, making, most of the time, two streams and shutting out the opposite banks. Keeping down the right channel, they passed through enchanting scenery, undisturbed by war-drums and savage shouts. Though the water was smooth on their side, over the island, on the other, they could hear the roar of rapids, and a few miles farther down the loud roar of the seventh and last cataract of the "Stanley Falls" burst on their ears, filling the solitude with its loud thunder. The river here was over a mile wide, and the fall of such an immense body of water over a high ledge made the earth tremble.
It was one incessant fight, either with thesavages or with nature, and it seemed as if fate determined to wear out these indomitable men. Soon the loud war-drums, and horns, and battle-shouts were mingled with the roar of the cataract, showing that here, too, they must fight before they could get below it. Dropping down as near as it was safe to the commencement of the rapids, they pulled ashore and pitched their camp in a dense forest. Fearful of being attacked before they could intrench, they immediately set to work with their axes to throw together a brushwood fence, while thirty soldiers were stationed in front toward the river, to repel assault. They had hardly completed it before the naked cannibals were upon them with a fury that threatened to break through their defenses. All this time out from the woods, adown the gorge through which the river plunged, war-drums and horns were heard summoning the thickly-scattered villages to the scene of combat. Before the steady fire of the musketeers the savages suffered so severely that at sunset they abandoned the attack and withdrew. Stanley now secured his boats and strengthened the brushwood fence, and laid his plans for the morning.
The camp was roused at five o'clock, and they pushed on to a point nearer the falls, so that the work of carrying around them was completed before the Wangas opened battle. Everything being made secure, they waited for the expected attack to begin, but, no enemy appearing, Stanleysent out scouts to ascertain what they were about. They brought back word that no savages were to be seen. On advancing to the villages, Stanley found to his astonishment that they were all deserted. Why, or whither they had fled was a profound mystery. Here was a town or cluster of villages, each with four or five streets running through it, and capable of containing two thousand inhabitants, deserted in a single night. The silence of death reigned over it.
Left thus at peace, he began to turn his attention to the falls. He found the river here in this terrific gorge was contracted to less than one-third of its breadth a short distance above, and hence flowed with a power and strength that can hardly be conceived. Crowded together, the waters struggled and leaped, and tore onward with a wildness and fury like the Niagara River below the falls. He here found baskets tied to long poles set to catch fish. They emptied some of these and found about thirty fish, of a different species from any known in our waters. These fish-baskets showed that they were now among savages that did not depend wholly on human flesh for subsistence. The villages, houses, and various implements and articles of household furniture were far in advance of those among the cannibals above them. At the same time the people here seemed more alert, fearless and determined.
The carry around these falls was not interrupted, and the immense labor of transporting so many boats and so much baggage along a rough-cut path was cheerfully performed. The next day, however, while congratulating themselves on the changed condition of things, they saw a large number of canoes approaching, and soon a musket-shot rang over the water, and one of Stanley's men fell. A new peril now threatened them—they found the natives armed with Portuguese muskets. Though it was a sure sign that they were approaching the coast, it showed also that hereafter it was to be fire-arms against fire-arms, not rifles against spears and arrows; and if the natives continued hostile, the destruction of the expedition seemed certain with such odds against it. Heretofore, in every combat the men picked up a number of native shields, almost as big as doors, which they preserved. In battle, the women and children would hold these before the soldiers, which was the chief reason why there had been so few casualties when fighting from the boats; but if bullets hereafter were to be fired, these would be of no use. Still there was nothing left but to fight to the last.
This changed condition of things caused Stanley the greatest anxiety. He, however, formed his boats in line of battle and the firing commenced—the natives after every discharge retiring to reload. Stanley's soldiers fired so rapidly, andwith such deadly effect, that after an hour had past the natives withdrew, and the expedition moved off and was soon lost to sight amid the innumerable islands that studded the river, and each of which was loaded with the most luxuriant vegetation.
The next day they floated down the river undisturbed, the islands growing more numerous as it expanded, until now it had become several miles wide. On one island they saw an immense elephant standing amid the trees, but no one proposed to stop and kill him, though his huge tusks were a tempting sight; there was too much at stake to think of hunting the great crocodiles and hippopotami and other amphibious monsters, who made the channels around these islands their home.
The next day, the 13th of February, they suddenly came upon a large number of villages. They were hidden from view, till the boats were so close upon them that it was too late to retreat. The next minute the forest resounded with the loud war-drums and ivory horns, while the fierce war-cries had changed their character and sounded like nothing human Stanley had ever heard. Bright gun-barrels gleamed above the light, graceful boats as they came swiftly on. But as they drew near the natives seemed to be filled with such strange wonder at the novel spectacle of two white men, that they did not fire, but sat and staredat them as if they had been ghosts. They followed for five miles in dead silence, when one of them fired and killed an Arab. In an instant, the boats wheeled and opened such a rapid fusillade that the savages retreated. But, when Stanley again resumed his downward course they turned and followed again, hovering like hawks around him for five miles, but making no attack.
They were now just above the equator, and were moving south-west. The next morning the islands were so thick that they shut out both banks, but keeping on down stream they at length came upon a village, and attempted to pass it unobserved, but the tap of a drum showed that they were observed, and their hearts sank within them at the prospect of another fight. In a few minutes drum was answering drum in every direction, and soon the savages were seen manning their canoes. Stanley, seeing his men were worn down by this incessant fighting, made them a short speech, telling them if they must die it should be with their guns in their hands. He had come to have great contempt for the natives on the water so long as they were without fire-arms. He could soon scatter them and keep them at a respectful distance with his rifles, but when it should be five hundred muskets against his forty guns, the whole character of the struggle would be changed.
As they quietly floated down, canoe after canoe filled with gayly-decorated savages shot out intothe river, till an immense fleet of them was in pursuit. Stanley ordered his men to cease paddling and wait their approach, determined, if possible, to make peace. But, while he was standing up holding out cloth and wire and making peaceful gestures, the crew of one canoe fired into his boat, wounding three men.
There was nothing left now but to fight, and soon the crash of fire-arms awoke the echoes of the forest-covered shores. The men had raised their shields, and to their joy found them a perfect protection, as the enemy fired bits of iron and copper, that could not penetrate them any more than the native arrows. As the fight went on other canoes arrived, until Stanley counted sixty-three canoes which he estimated carried five guns apiece, which would make three hundred and fifteen to his forty-four—a desperate odds truly, and if the Africans' guns had been loaded with bullets, they would have doubtless then and there ended the expedition. It is a little curious that whenever Stanley gets into a desperate strait that even his boldness and pluck cannot help him out of, some unforeseen thing comes to his aid, and he escapes.