BOAT FIGHT WITH THE SAVAGES
BOAT FIGHT WITH THE SAVAGES.
In this case his rifles had much longer range and greater penetrating force than the old-fashioned muskets, so most of the enemy kept at a distance of a hundred yards. One brave fellow, however, kept dashing up to within fifty yards andfiring, till he was wounded. It was a lucky thing for Stanley that their guns were poor, their cartridges feeble and their aim bad. At length the fire began to slacken, and dwindling down to now and then a random shot, before six o'clock it ceased altogether.
The fight being over, the men laid down their guns and once more took up their paddles and were soon out of sight of their enemies, and at sunset they camped on an island that lay amid a nest of islets.
The next day, the 15th, they continued their journey and for three days were unmolested and allowed to enjoy the magnificent scenery amid which they floated; but they had little inclination to admire scenery, for they were half-starved, not having been able to purchase a particle of food for a week. On the 19th they came to a great river, the largest tributary they had yet seen, pouring an enormous volume of black water into the Livingstone.
It now began to look as if, having escaped death by battle and the cataracts, they were about to yield to famine. They met fishermen, but these would have nothing to do with them. On the 19th, nine days since they had been able to purchase any provisions, they came to Ikengo, where to their great joy they found friendly natives. The next day Stanley held a market on the island where he had encamped, to which the neighboringchiefs came, as well as the villagers. Trade was brisk and before night he had a bountiful supply of sheep, goats, bananas, flour, sweet potatoes and various tropical fruits, for which he exchanged cloth, beads and wire. The men revelled in the unexpected abundance, and hope and joy took the place of gloom and discontent. The next day they resumed their apparently endless journey, and floated peacefully amid green islands, scattered like gems over the broad bosom of the now friendly stream.
On the 23d, while floating quietly down, word was brought Stanley that the wife of one of the Arab chiefs, who had been sick for some time, was dying, and he pulled his boat alongside of the one in which she lay. She knew she was going, and bade him an affectionate good-bye. Soon after she expired. At sunset a weight was tied to her body, and she was dropped into the waters of the river, and left to sleep in this lonely bed, far away from the cocoa-nuts and mangoes of her native land.
Their course now led them among beautiful islets, made gay by the rich plumage of tropical birds. Occasionally they met a few canoes, but no hostility was exhibited. On the 27th, they came upon natives fishing, who at once showed themselves to be friendly, and exhibited no distrust at all. It was a new revelation to the wanderers. Hitherto, it was only after the most patient waitingand persevering efforts that they could gain the confidence of the savages, if, indeed, they secured it at all. Here it was freely given, and they directed them to a good camping place, on an island from whence they looked across to the fields and villages of Chumbiri, where these fishermen belonged. The fishermen then departed, to report to their king, who sent them back with presents of food, and a promise that he would visit the camp. True to his word, he appeared next day, escorted by five canoes filled with soldiers, carrying muskets. He wore a curious hat, was very cool and self-possessed in his manner, and inclined to be sociable. He took snuff incessantly, and in enormous quantities. After a long conversation, he invited them to make his village their home, and Stanley, wishing to learn all he could of the river below, accepted the invitation, and the expedition crossed the river and was received in savage pomp. A grand market was held, and exchanges freely made. The women did not seem to be of the pure African blood, being brown instead of black, with large eyes, beautifully shaped shoulders, and altogether very pretty. They were fond of ornaments, some of them wearing thirty pounds of brass wire around their necks. Stanley estimated that the forty wives, six daughters and the female slaves of the king carried on their necks about one thousand four hundred pounds of brass wire.
He stayed here a week, enjoying the hospitalityof the king, who, in addition to all his other kindnesses, gave him three canoes, as an escort, and on the 7th of March he turned the prows of his boats again down stream. That night they encamped in a jungle, into which two immense serpents crawled, one of which was killed just as he began to twine his folds about a woman. It measured thirteen feet and a half in length, and fifteen inches round the body. Having passed tributary after tributary, they went ashore on the morning of the 9th to cook breakfast. The women were busily engaged in preparing it, when they were startled by loud musket shots and six of the men fell. They had been taken completely by surprise, but springing to their guns, they dashed into the woods and a fierce fight followed, which lasted an hour. It was one incessant crack of musketry, each one sheltering himself as best he could. The savages were finally driven off, but not until they had wounded fourteen of Stanley's men. This was the sharpest fight he had yet had, and if it were a fair prelude to what was to follow, the expedition would soon consist of nothing but wounded men. It is astonishing, that in all these fights, of which this was the thirty-second and last, neither Stanley nor Pocoke should receive a wound.
After the wounded men had been attended to, they again set out and floated peacefully down, not suspecting any danger, until they approached a settlement which suddenly swarmed with excitedarmed men. Rowing away as fast as possible, they soon got clear of the village, and encamped three miles below. The next day the voyage was charming, taking them through beautiful and ever-changing scenery. Nothing occurred to mar their pleasure the following day except a fierce south wind, which now began to set in regularly every day, making the river exceedingly rough for the canoes, especially at this point, where the river expanded to nearly two miles in width. This great breadth extended as far as the eye could reach, and, hemmed in by cliffs, it resembled a pool, which young Pocoke christened "Stanley Pool."
Paddling slowly down this pool, they passed several villages. Makoneh, the chief of one, proved very kind and hospitable, and offered to conduct Stanley to the next cataract. As they swept down, they halted at a friendly village, the chief of which inquired how they expected to get over the mighty falls below. He was a bluff, genial, good-souled negro, who seemed glad to assist them in any way in his power, and finally offered to guide them to the cataract. Moving down, soon its low roar was heard swelling over the forest, gradually increasing as they advanced till it rose like a continuous thunder-peal from the solitude below.
Makoneh led the way, and just skirting the first line of breakers he landed on a pebbly beach. The village of Itsi was in sight, he being the pettyking of a neighboring tribe. Some canoes soon crossed from it, and were received so kindly that the natives went back with such wonderful stories to their king that next day he paid Stanley a visit. He came in a large canoe carrying eighty-six persons. It was over eighty-five feet long, and propelled by sixty paddlers. These, standing up and keeping time with their strokes to the steady beat of a drum, sent the boat like an arrow through the water and made a stirring picture as they dashed up to Stanley's camp. There were several gray-headed men present, one of whom was introduced to Stanley as the king. The latter noticed that the rest laughed heartily at this, which afterwards turned out to be a practical joke. However, Stanley sat down with the venerable person in amicable conversation, while a young native and Frank seemed to strike up a warm friendship for each other, or at least the native for Pocoke, judging by the way he pressed presents on him.
It seemed strange to Stanley that the young savage should give twice as much to Frank as the king gave to him, but it now came out that this young man was the king, and the aged man Stanley had been conversing with was merely one of his counselors. Stanley at once changed his attention, and asked him what present would please him. The royal young savage had been looking about at the various things in camp, and seeing a very large goat, told Stanley that he wished "biggoat." Now this happened to be the last thing the latter wished to part with. A lady in England had requested him to bring back a goat of this very breed, and he had purchased several, of which this alone had survived the long and dangerous journey. He therefore endeavored to bribe the young king by doubling the other presents he had prepared. No, he would have the "big goat." Stanley then offered to give him an ass instead. At this the savage seemed to hesitate. The donkey was very desirable, but at this critical moment the animal sent up a huge bray, which so frightened the women that he would not take him. Other tempting offers were made but nothing would do but the "big goat," and as Stanley was short of provisions (the men having squandered those the king of Chambiri had given them), and as he must have these, he reluctantly turned over the big goat and the young king departed highly delighted. The next day he returned bringing three ordinary goats in exchange and some provisions. Soon the kings or chiefs of other neighboring tribes came in bringing fruit, and everything was harmonious, and treaties of amity were made with all. The one with Itsi was quite ceremonious. Among other things, he gave Stanley a white powder as a charm against evil, in return for which, the latter, with all due gravity, presented him with a half-ounce vial full of magnesia as the white man's charm. This and blood-brotherhood closedthe formal proceedings of the treaty-making powers—quite as important, in their way, as similar councils in civilized countries.
Stanley found by observation that though he had traveled from Nyangwe over one thousand two hundred miles, he had descended not quite a thousand feet.
It is a little singular, that in this age of inquiry and persistent effort to get at the cause of things, no one has yet attempted to explain the reason of tribal differences. Aborigines occupying the same parallels of latitude and longitude, subject to the same influences of climate, living on the same diet, are different in color, features, and more than all, in disposition. The real, or supposed influences, that lie at the bottom of the different races, do not apply here. Difference of origin, of climate, of food, all these must have great effect in changing color, features and character, and hence, to a certain extent, explain how such distinct nationalities exist, but they do not in the least account for tribal differences where all these are the same, and where there are not even barriers of mountains and rivers separating them. Why should our western Indian tribes, roaming over the same prairies, living on the same food, and similar in all their modes of life, be yet so different in form, feature and disposition? Is there really no way of getting a satisfactory, true explanation of all this?
So in Africa, Stanley crossed the continent inthe same general range of latitude. The savages he met were all dwellers of the equatorial region, and hence lived in the same climate, used the same food, dressed in the same way, and lived the same life, and yet they were as dissimilar as different nationalities. If any educational influences had been brought to bear upon them one could understand this, but none have been exerted. These same tribal differences Stanley found on the Congo. Fierce cannibals and gentle agricultural people were living side by side. Suspicious, faithless men, differing very little from the better class of monkeys, lived neighbors to tribes unsuspicious and trustful, and wonderfully advanced in the arts of mechanism. At the falls, which were named "Stanley Falls," the natives were suspicious, faithless, cruel, but when he reached the Livingstone Falls, he found the people hospitable, kind and trustful. When this difference burst on Stanley practically, he felt it sensibly, but he philosophically dismissed it with the simple remark, such "is the effect of trade." We cannot accept this explanation at all, for they had no trade with the outside world, and they showed the same kindly natures beforehecommenced trading with them. The only evidence of their connection with civilized life was that they had muskets, and yet the very first tribe which possessed them was the most fierce, implacable and relentless he met with. This ethnological question has never yet been settled.Still it is not singular that Stanley did not just then trouble himself with it. As long as the difference existed and was now in his favor he was content, as well he might be. The friendly natives at the head of these falls assured him that he had passed the cannibal country, but they differed materially as to the number of falls below—one making them three, another a half dozen or more. No matter whether they were few or many, they must be passed, though he dragged his canoes over lofty mountains to do it.
But if the differences in the character of the natives was great, that in the character of the scenery and aspect of the river was no less so. The wild, fierce savages had become tame, while the gently flowing river, studded with green islands, had become wild and fierce and angry. The gradually descending plain was transformed into the terrific gorge over which hung beetling cliffs, and the placid current into a roaring torrent dashing amid rocks, plunging over precipices, and filling the solitudes with an ever-angry voice. Hostile savages were behind, but hostile nature was before the adventurers, to whom there would be no rest till they found the restless sea.
Immediately before them were two stretches of rapids and then a cataract. The first was a mere piece of broken water that was easily passed. Having no fear of hostile natives, Stanley leisurely explored both river and shore to ascertain the bestway of getting around the second rapids. The goods, asses, women and children were taken overland, while the boats were led with hawsers from rock to rock along the shore. Fortunately not a rope broke, and by five o'clock the rapids were passed and all were in camp together.
The last of the rapids Stanley declared to be the wildest stretch of water he had ever seen. For four miles the river looked as if thrown upward by volcanic action beneath and at the same time swept by a fierce hurricane above, and all the while it was dashing madly on at the rate of thirty miles an hour. Huge troughs would be formed, as if the stream was yawning asunder, and then the divided water would come together with a crash, sending up columns twenty feet high to dissolve in foam and spray. The crash of colliding waves and the steady roar of the rapids were awful. It was literally a "hell of waters." The land carriage around this wild stretch was a rough piece of work. Paths of brushwood were made, and the canoes slowly hauled up rocky heights and slid down into deep gullies—the women and children toiling after. They were nearly four days getting around this four miles of impassable rapids. The men were fainting for want of food when smooth water was at last reached. This, however, continued but a short distance, when they had to take to land again and haul their boats over a rocky point forthree-quarters of a mile. This task took three days to accomplish. When it is remembered that one of the canoes was eighty-five feet long, and another seventy-five and dug out of a solid tree, we can get some conception of the tremendous effort it required to transport them over rocks and hills. When smooth water was again reached, it gave them only a short respite. Stanley, however, found it necessary to halt and give the people rest, for the tremendous strain of the last week was telling fearfully on them.
On the 25th, they found themselves once more confronted by ugly rapids. In endeavoring to lead the boats around them, the best canoe was dragged by the mere force of the current from the hands of fifty men and whirled down the mad stream and dashed to pieces. Toiling amid the rocks several men were injured, one having his shoulder dislocated, while Stanley fell into a chasm thirty feet deep, but fortunately struck on his feet, and thus escaped with some slight bruises, though he was very much stunned. On the 27th, they succeeded in getting past this "cauldron," as it was called, although they narrowly escaped losing their largest canoe. The next day they had smooth water for a short distance and then they came to "Rocky Falls." These, however, were passed with comparative ease and two men were sent forward to explore. They reported, on their return, that about a mile below was another cataract, and thatat its head was an excellent camping place in a sheltered bay. Stanley determined to reach this spot before dark, and so, manning his seventeen remaining canoes, he led the way, hugging the shore, so as not to get into the suction of the water above the falls. All were told to follow him and by no means to venture out into the middle of the stream. Keeping close to the right bank, he felt his way carefully onward and at last floated into the tranquil bay, at the head of the fall. Three canoes followed him, and as he was waiting for the others to come in he saw, to his horror, the largest canoe in midstream and coming down like a race-horse. Kalulu had charge of this, and deceived by the smooth, glassy surface of the stream, he had pulled out into midcurrent. The moment he was caught by it his doom and that of the four men with him was sealed. There was nothing to be done by those on shore but to watch the swiftly-gliding boat till it shot over the edge of the falls to disappear in the tumult below. Three of the men were Stanley's especial favorites, and he felt their loss keenly. While his eyes was yet resting on the spot where they had gone down, another canoe shot in sight, driving straight for the falls. Fortunately, it struck them at the least dangerous point and went over safely, then, skillfully working the canoe toward the shore, its two inmates sprang overboard and swam to land. Stanley immediately dispatched his boat's crew up-stream to tell therest to hug the shore, and in no case to venture out into the stream. Before they reached the canoes, another one, with only the lad Soudi, shot by, he crying, as he was borne swiftly onward, "There is but one God—I am lost, master," and the next moment he too dropped out of sight. Strange to say, though the canoe was whirled about at the bottom like a spinning-top, it did not sink, and was finally swept out of sight behind an island. The rest of the canoes arrived safely.
DEATH OF KALULU
DEATH OF KALULU.
The next day Stanley sent Frank to bring over the goods to where he was encamped, while he himself traded with the natives, whom he found very friendly, and from whom he obtained abundant provisions. After resting one day, they got everything round the falls and encamped on the 1st of April. In the afternoon, to the surprise and joy of all, young Soudi walked into camp. He had a strange story to tell. He was borne helplessly down the rapids, confused and dizzy, till at last the boat drifted against a rock, when he jumped out and got on shore. Before he had time to think where he was, he was seized from behind and pinioned, and dragged to the top of the mountain by two men, who stripped and examined him with great curiosity. The next day several of the tribe came to see him, one of whom had been in Stanley's camp when King Itsi visited it, and he told such terrible stories about Stanley and of his gun that could shoot all day, that they became frightenedand took Soudi back to the place where they had found him, and told him to speak well of them. The other two men who had gone safely over the fall, and also joined the camp.
Proceeding on down-stream they came to more rapids, in passing which they met many narrow escapes. It was, indeed, a succession of rapids, and while Stanley conducted the boats through them, Frank took the rest of the party and goods overland. The former examined every inch of the way carefully before starting. Thus day after day passed, they continually fighting the relentless river. Sometimes the water was too rough to admit the passage of the boats, and then they had to be carried overland. It was slow and tedious work, and but little progress was made. The question each one kept asking himself was, how long will this last and when shall we see smooth water again?
Each day was but the repetition of its predecessor, and if the natives had been as hostile as those farther up the river, they could not have got on at all. The only variation was when the river took some new whim or the formation of the country required more effort and new modes of getting on. Thus one day they undertook to lead the canoes by hawsers around a rocky point where the eddies set up-stream with the strength and velocity of a torrent, so that it seemed impossible to get them down-stream. To add to the difficulty,the cliffs on the top of which the men with the hawsers stood, were fifty feet high and their jagged edges sawed the ropes till they parted one after another.
So creeping along the shore to-day, and daring the midstream, which, though boisterous, was clear of rocks, to-morrow, they kept on, hoping after the next stretch to reach a quiet flowing river. The Lady Alice fared hard in this perilous navigation, and once came near being lost. All this time the resources of the expedition were being exhausted, for though the natives were friendly everything had to be paid for, and it was not difficult to answer the question, "How long will our remaining currency last?"
The next rapids they came to Stanley named the "Lady Alice Rapids," because, as we suppose, both he and the boat escaped almost by a miracle from sharing one sad fate in the wild and mad waters of the Livingstone. The cables lashed to bow and stern, to let the boat down, parted, or were snatched from the hands on shore, and away she dashed down the foaming current. Above, the naked cliffs rose three hundred feet high—around boiled and tossed the tumultuous waters, and certain destruction seemed to await the man who had triumphed over so many obstacles and who at last was nearing the goal of his ambition. The Arabs, whose life depended on his life, were in despair—their master was gone—there was noone left to lead them out of this strange wilderness. Nothing but the coolness of Stanley saved him and his crew. Watching every change in the flow of the current—resigning himself to the wild will of the mad waters when struggling was useless—taking advantage of every favorable change of the current and bidding his men row for life at the right time, he at length reached shore, and at once sent messengers to his despairing camp to tell them he was safe. He knew, and they knew, that all their lives hung on his. He had a narrow escape, and the natives on shore, as they watched his boat flung about like a cockle-shell in the boiling surge, looked upon him as lost.
If Stanley wanted any new proof of the affection of his Arabs for him, he had it now. He had been able, after his fierce struggle with the rapids and being carried, in the meantime, over one fall, to reach land at least two miles below his camp, in which he was looked upon as lost. When, therefore, the message was received that he was alive and safe, his followers streamed forth in one confused mass, and hastening down the river, came in a long, straggling line in sight of Stanley, waving their arms on high, shouting words of welcome and overwhelming him with expressions of exuberant joy. This involuntary outburst of feeling and gratitude that their "master" was safe, repaid him tenfold for all the suffering and peril he had endured. It is strange, when such momentousresults hang on a single life, how we go on as though nothing depended upon it till the moment comes when we are about losing it.
The men, women and children had joined in this grand exodus to congratulate Stanley on his deliverance from what appeared certain death, and the men now returned to bring the goods to this point where the new camp was pitched. Not twenty rods from it the Nikenke River came foaming and tumbling into the Livingstone from a precipice one thousand feet high, with a terrific roar and rumble. Almost as near, another tributary dashed over a ledge four hundred feet high, while just above was the wild rapids he had just passed, and just below another stretch of swift and tumbling water. The din of these surrounding cataracts made a fearful, terrific music in these mysterious solitudes, and awakened strange feelings in Stanley, as he lay and listened and wondered what would come next.
The sharp crash of the near cataract tumbling from its height of a thousand feet, the low rumble of the lower fall and the deep boom of the mighty river made up a grand diapason there in the wilds of Central Africa. West from the great lakes the continent seemed to stretch in one vast plateau, across which the river moved in placid strength, its gently sweeping current parted with beautiful islands, that filled the air with perfume exhaled from countless flowers and tropical plants, and making a scene of loveliness that intoxicated thesenses. But all this was marred by the presence of blood-thirsty cannibals, whose war-drums and savage cries filled this world of beauty with terrific sounds and nameless fears. But the moment the stream reached the edge of this plateau, where man seemed to become more human, it rolled into cataracts and rapids, down a steep incline, till it came to the sea. Canoes were upset and lost, and men were barely saved from death by expert swimming during these fearful days, and yet Stanley could get no reliable information from the natives how far down this remorseless stretch of water extended. This terrible struggle, which the party underwent, and the exhausting nature of their work may be faintly imagined when it is stated that for thirty-seven consecutive days theymade less than a mile a day. It was a constant succession of rapids from the middle of March to the latter part of April.
At length, on the 22d, they came to the "big cataract," called by the natives Inkisi, which Stanley fondly believed would be the last. The table-land here is one thousand feet high, and the natives occupying it flocked into Stanley's camp, curious to know how he was to get his canoes past the falls. When he told them he was going to drag them over that table-land one thousand feet high, they looked at him in speechless astonishment. His own men were thunderstruck when he announced to them his determination. But they had become so accustomed to believe he coulddo anything he resolved upon, that they silently acquiesced. The natives, as they looked at the heavy canoes and then on the lofty height, with its steep, craggy ascent, took their departure and began to climb back to their homes to secure their property, for they said, if the white man intended to fly his boats over the mountains, they did not know what terrible things might next happen.
Having settled on the undertaking, Stanley immediately set to work to carry it out, and the first day built a road nearly a mile long. The next day the Lady Alice and a small canoe were resting on the high summit. The work was done so quietly and without any disastrous results to life and property, that the native chiefs were dumb with admiration and offered to bring six hundred men next day to help haul up the heavy canoes. They kept their word, and soon boats and baggage were in camp on the top of the mountain. Sending off a party ten miles ahead to prepare the natives for his coming, Stanley took the women and children, with the goods and boat's crew, on to the next tribe to make a camp near the river, for the purpose of exploring the defile through which he was finally to work his way.
He had found many articles of English make among the natives, showing that he was approaching the coast from which these must have been obtained. They had not, however, been brought there by traders, but had worked their way upfrom market to market along the river. The sight of them was encouraging to the members of the expedition who were getting worn out, while disease also prevailed to a large extent and threatened to increase. Still they might be a great way off from the coast yet, in time if not in distance, if they continued to make but one mile a day. Hence Stanley had to be very economical in everything, especially in the use of meat, though the constant and terrible mental and physical strain on him made it necessary that he should have the most nourishing food. For lack of this in a simple form, he concocted a dish out of vegetables, fruit and oil, which proved to him a great benefit.
It was the 29th of April when Stanley gave his last instructions to his Arab chiefs about getting the canoes down the mountain to Nzabi, the home of the next tribe west. On his way he entered a magnificent forest—the tall and shapely trees of which reminded him of his early wanderings in the wilds of Arkansas and on our western frontiers. It was not strange, while looking at them, that he should be reminded of the "dug-outs" of the Indians which he had so often seen, and that the thought should occur to him to make some canoes, to take the place of those which he had lost in the passage of the rapids and falls above. It seems as if his early life had prepared him especially for all the contingencies that were to occur in his long and varied explorations in Africa. After thinking the matter over a short time, he resolved that the boats should be built, and having obtained permission of the chief of the district, he at once commenced operations. The first tree selected was more than three feet in diameter and ran up sixty feet straight before it reached a limb. As soon as it was prone on the ground the men were set to work in sections uponit, and in a week it was finished. In a week more another was completed, measuring forty-five feet in length and eighteen inches deep. All this time the canoes were advancing over the land at the rate of a little more than a third of a mile a day, and finally they reached camp the day before the second boat was finished.
Things, however, had gone badly in the camp on the mountain-top after Stanley left, for the Arabs, following their apparently natural propensity, began to steal. One man, who had been caught in the act, was seized and made a prisoner by the natives who resolved to keep him as a slave. Stanley spent an entire day negotiating for his redemption, and finally had to give one hundred and fifty dollars' worth of cloth to get him released. It was plain that he could not afford to redeem many men at this price, and he distinctly told them that if after this any of them were caught stealing, they would be left in the hands of the natives, to be held as slaves for life. A terrible punishment, yet as it proved not great enough to deter them from committing the same crime afterwards, as opportunity offered.
The labor of the men engaged in hauling the canoes over the high mountain had been so great, that Stanley felt that some days of rest were demanded to recuperate them. But as idleness was always the fruitful source of all kinds of evil with the Arabs, he determined to keep the men whohad hewed out the two boats still at work, and set them to making a third canoe.
The chief of this district now informed Stanley, greatly to his surprise and disappointment, that there were five falls immediately below him, while how many lay between these and the sea no one could tell. No matter; he must still move on, and, for the present, cling to the river on account of the sick, if for no other reason.
On the 18th, he sent off a man to get some axes repaired by a native blacksmith. While the latter was engaged in the work, a spark flew from the anvil against the body of one of his children playing near by, burning him slightly. The enraged man asserted that the accident was owing to a wicked charm of the stranger, and, running out, he beat the war-drum, at which the excited natives assembled in great fury, and the poor Arab was in danger of immediate immolation, when the chief happened to arrive and saved him.
On May 22d, the great teak canoe, the third which had been built, and which Stanley named Livingstone, was launched in the creek just above its entrance into the river amid the shouts of the natives. It could carry forty-six people. So far as means of transportation was concerned, Stanley was now at ease—but would there ever be a peaceful river on which these twelve canoes could float?
It was now the 22d of May, and since the 24thof February there had been forty rainy days, and hence for the month they had been working their slow, tedious way over the ridges and mountains, the river had been continually rising and now, more than eleven feet above its usual height, it was rolling in a grand, resistless flood through the gorges. Thunder and lightning had accompanied the storms, lighting up the wild river, drowning its fierce roar and drenching the wanderers, till it seemed as if heaven itself was leagued with the natives and the cataracts to drive them to despair and to destruction. The river was still rising, and the rush and roar of the waters were only less terrific than the deafening thunder-peels that shook the chasm in which they were confined. Still they must move on, even though it should be to greater horrors and more desperate conditions and a darker fate. So on the 23d of May they set out, and carrying around a short fall in the creek on the banks of which they had been encamping, and ascending a mountain, they pushed slowly on for three miles over a plateau—the sick and suffering complaining bitterly, while the well were almost ready to give out and die then and there on the shores of the river. Every fall was expected to be the last, and yet each proved the forerunner only of a worse one to come.
From this creek Stanley led those of the expedition who could walk to the head of the Mowwa Falls. Frank, whose lame foot did not permit himto walk, took the Lady Alice, followed by the canoes, out of the mouth of the creek, to coast carefully along down the river to the same camping-place. In the meantime, Stanley, who had arrived first, took a long and anxious survey of the terrific scene before him. At the head of the falls, where he stood on a grassy plot, a ledge of rock twelve feet high ran straight across the river like a wall for a mile and a quarter and then stopped. From the end to the opposite shore it was a clear space of a little more than a quarter of a mile, through which the compressed river rushed with a strength and shout and fury that were appalling. This wall of rock, however, was not solid—here and there it was cut through as if by some mighty blow, making separate channels that had a fall of twelve feet. Below, as far as the eye could reach, treeless mountains arose nearly a mile into the heavens, while halfway up from the mad river, that tore with the sound of thunder along their bases, perpendicular cliffs stood walling in this awful embodiment of power.
A scene of more utter desolation cannot be imagined than was here presented to his view in this solitary spot. The camp seemed a mere speck amid these gigantic outlines of mountain and river. As he thus looked and listened, awe-struck and subdued, he saw Frank in the Lady Alice coming through the rapids at a terrific pace. This was the first time Frank had attempted such a feat, andhe got confused, and was finally thrown into the worst part of the rapids, and in his frantic struggles to release himself, he struck a rock and stove a hole six inches square into the boat. However, all were landed in safety, though Stanley mourned greatly over the severe injury to his boat, which thus far had escaped all harm. It took him a whole day to repair it. Two days after, the goods were transferred below and the boats dropped carefully through the ledge near the shore, where the water was less rough, and reached the camp below the great falls in safety.
While resting here there occurred one of the most interesting scenes of this whole remarkable journey. In the transportation of goods over the mountains robberies of beads, etc., had been committed, and now the last man in the whole party Stanley would wish to have accused of theft was found guilty—the noble, brave, reliable and kind Uledi. True as steel in the hour of danger, quiet, obedient, thinking nothing of his life if Stanley asked him to risk it, he had yet stolen—not things of ordinary value, but that on which their very existence might depend. Cloth was getting so plenty among the natives that its value was very much decreased, but beads were worth ten times their weight in gold, and these Uledi had stolen and hidden in his mat. Of course this must be stooped at all hazards and at whatever sacrifice, still Stanley would almost as soon havelost his hand as to leave Uledi, as he had threatened he would the next man he caught stealing, in the hands of the savages as a slave forever. He therefore called the chiefs together and made them a speech, in which he clearly showed them that their lives depended on putting a stop to theft, for if they were left without anything to buy provisions with they all would inevitably perish of famine before they reached the sea. He also asked them what should be done with Uledi, on whom stolen goods had been found.
The principal chief would not answer for some time, but being urged to give his opinion said at last: It was very hard, seeing it was Uledi. Had it been anybody else he declared he would vote to pitch him into the river, but now he gave his vote for flogging. The rest of the chiefs concurred with him. Stanley then turned to the boat's crew, of which Uledi was coxswain and by whom he was dearly loved. The principal one and the most relied on, the watchman of the boat, replied, "Ah, it is a hard question, master. He is like our elder brother; but, as the fathers of the people have spoken, be it so; yet, for our sakes, master, beat himjust a little." He next accosted Zaidi, by whose side Uledi had clung all night in the midst of the cataract, and had saved his life by risking his own. He replied, "Remember it is Uledi, master." Next he addressed Uledi's brother, who cried "Spare Uledi, but, if he must be flogged,give me half of it, I shall not feel it if it is for Uledi." Last of all he asked the poor culprit's cousin, when he replied in a speech that the London Athenæum, in quoting it, said would stand beside that of Jeanie Dean's when pleading for her sister. It occurred thus:
The poor fellow asked, "Will the master give his slave liberty to speak?" "Yes," replied Stanley. He then came forward, and kneeling before him and clasping his feet with his hands, said: "The master is wise. All things that happen he writes in a book. Each day there is something written. We black men know nothing, neither have we any memory. What we saw yesterday is to-day forgotten. Yet the master forgets nothing. Perhaps, if the master will look into his book, he may see something in it about Uledi. How Uledi behaved on Lake Tanganika; how he rescued Zaidi from the cataract; how he has saved many men, whose names I cannot remember, from the river—Bill Ali, Mabruki, Kom-kusi and others. How he worked harder on the canoe than any three men; how he has been the first to listen to your voice always; how he has been the father of the boat-boys. With Uledi, master, the boat-boys are good and ready, without him they are nothing. Uledi is Shumari's brother. If Uledi is bad, Shumari is good. Uledi is my cousin. If, as the chiefs say, Uledi should be punished, Shumari says he will take half of the punishment; thengive Saywa the other half, and set Uledi free. Saywa has spoken."
All this was uttered in a low, humble tone, with his head bowed to Stanley's feet. Stanley could not resist such an appeal, and said: "Very well, Uledi, by the voice of the people, is condemned; but as Shumari and Saywa have promised to take the punishment on themselves, Uledi is set free and Shumari and Saywa are pardoned." The moment the poor fellow was set free, he stepped forward and said: "Master, it was not Uledi who stole—it was the devil which entered into his heart."
This touching scene is given, not merely for its pathos, but because these untutored natives, here in the wilds of Africa, illustrated the principles that lie at the very foundation of the Christian religion. First, they recognized the great fundamental doctrine of atonement—of expiation—the suffering of the innocent in the place of the guilty, by which the offender can be pardoned. In the second place, Uledi uttered over again the sentiments of Paul—when a man's whole nature revolts at the wrong he has done, and hates himself for it, it is not he that commits it, but "sin that dwelleth in him," when he would do good, evil was present with him. It was a happy termination of the affair, for it would have been a cruel act to have had the noble, true, unselfish and brave Uledi suffer the indignity of a whip.
Another scene occurred, while in camp, thatshows on what an insignificant, nay, ridiculous, thing the fate of a great expedition may turn. One day, Stanley being at leisure took out his note-book and began to write, as was his custom when he had a few hours to himself. The natives who flocked into camp in great numbers daily, noticed him and began to whisper among themselves. The crowd around him gradually increased and began to be strangely agitated, as the word "tara tara" passed from lip to lip, and presently, as if seized by a single impulse, they all ran away. Stanley merely observed the fact without stopping to think what the cause of this sudden abandonment of the camp might be. He therefore went on writing, when suddenly he was startled by loud war-cries ringing far and near over the mountain top, and, two hours after, he saw between five and six hundred natives fully armed rushing down the table-land toward the camp. He quickly mustered his men to be prepared for what seemed an unprovoked attack, but determined, if possible, to avoid a collision. He therefore advanced toward them as they drew near, and, sitting down on the ground, in a friendly tone asked what it all meant and why they had come in such a warlike manner to their friends. A large savage, acting as spokesman, replied that they had seen him make marks on some "tara tara." Those black lines he had drawn on paper, he said, would bring sickness and death and utter ruin on the land, and the people, andanimals, unless the book containing them was burnt up.
Here was an unexpected dilemma. He must burn up that note-book or fight these five or six hundred armed, desperate savages. But that note-book, the gathered results of nearly three years of exploration, was the most precious thing on earth to him. He was astounded and sorely perplexed at the strange demand—burn up that note-book! He might as well burn up himself. Even if he could remember his main adventures, he could not recall all the observations, plans of maps and routes, and statistics of every kind it contained, and without which the whole expedition was a failure. No, he could not give it up, but what then—fight one against four, all armed with muskets, to retain it? Suppose he could put them to rout, it could not be done without a serious loss of life to himself as well as to them. But this was not the worst of it—with the natives friendly and aiding him as they had done, and supplying him with provisions, it would be almost a miracle if he ever reached the sea-shore; but with them hostile, even if he could fight his way through them, he would certainly perish from famine, for he could obtain no provisions, without which, he and the book would perish together. But, still, he could not give up that book, and he turned over in his mind every conceivable plan of averting the catastrophe. Finally, he told them to wait a moment, while, inthe meantime, he stepped back to his tent as if to fetch it.
All at once it occurred to him that he might substitute another book for it, if, among his scant collection, he could find one at all resembling it. Turning them over, he came across a volume of Shakespeare of just about the same size. True the binding was different, but those savages knew as little of the peculiar binding of a book as they did of its contents. Besides it lay open on Stanley's knee when they saw it, and they observed only the black lines. However, the attempt to pass it off on these wild savages for the real book was worth making. So taking it in his hand, he walked back to where they stood with ferocious looks waiting for his decision, and handing it to them, told them to take it. No, they would not touch it, he must burn it. Well, Stanley said, he would do anything to please such good friends as they were. So together they went to a camp-fire near by, and solemnly consigned poor Shakespeare to the flames.
The natives were delighted at this evidence of Stanley's good-will, and became faster friends than ever. What he would have done had it come to the issue—burn that note-book or fight—he does not tell us.
The river had been thoroughly explored for two miles below where they were encamped to the head of Zinga Falls. It was a rough, wild stretchof water, but it was thought it might be passed safely by using great caution and keeping out of the midstream rapids. At all events, Stanley had determined to try it first himself in his own boat—a resolution that nearly cost him his life. The next day, the 3d of June, the attempt was to be made, and Frank passed the evening in Stanley's tent in great spirits, talking and singing songs of merry old England. He was always singing, and most of the time religious songs which he had learned at home. The wilds of Africa had equalized these men, and they held sweet communion together this last night on the banks of the wild river. Frank seemed unusually exhilarated, little dreaming, alas, that the next night his lifeless body would be tossing amid the rocks that lined the bed of the fierce torrent below—his merry songs all hushed—nevermore to while away the weary hours in this dreary solitude of Africa or brighten the life of his England home.
Frank Pocoke, as stated previously, joined the expedition under Stanley as a servant, and his brother had fallen at what proved to be the mere outset of the real main expedition, subsequently Frank, by his intelligence, geniality, ability and courage, and perhaps quite as much by the necessity of companionship that Stanley felt the need of in that wild region, and which only a white, civilized man could furnish, had risen above the position he had taken till Stanley looked upon him more as a friend than as a servant. This was natural; he was the only man he could talk with in English; the only man who had the taste and manners of civilized life; the only one who in the long halt could in any way be his companion; and, more than all, the only man who could certainly be depended on to stand by him in the hour of danger to the last, and fall, if fall they must, side by side. Whoever else might prove false in these vast untrodden solitudes, Frank Pocoke, he well knew, would not be one of them. Under such circumstances and conditions, Stanley would not have been the true man he is if he had not lifted the servant up tothe place of a friend. It was therefore but natural that in the long mental discussion at Ziangwe as to whether he should return or choose some other route than through the hostile tribes whose territory the waters of the Lualaba washed, or push on at all hazards by following its current to the sea, that he should take his quondam servant into his confidence and they should together talk over all the probabilities of the different routes to be adopted. In another place we have shown what those difficulties were, and what the real or imaginable obstacles were that confronted Stanley if he determined to follow the Lualaba at all hazards to the sea.
In speaking of the death of young Pocoke, we wish to show what influence he had at last in fixing the determination that led to his own death and to Stanley's fame as an explorer. One day, while Stanley was discussing with Pocoke the wisest course to pursue, the latter said: "Mr. Stanley, suppose we toss up, to determine whether we shall follow the Lualaba as far as the Lowra, and then strike off for Monbruto, or follow it to the sea?"
Stanley, who had become almost indifferent as to whether one course or the other would end his life, agreed, and a toss-up was made, the result being on the side of following the river to the sea. The drawing of straws was then resorted to. Three trials of chances were made, and thedecision of fate, as proposed by Pocoke, was to follow the river to the sea. He little thought that accidental toss was a toss-up for his own life, and that so trivial an affair settled his fate forever. We know what was Stanley's final decision, and though he does not acknowledge that this trial by chances had any effect on his final determination, the experience of human nature, since the world began, proves that it must have had. Even Napoleon, who believed that Providence was on the side of the strong battalions, had an equally strong belief in his "star." While it, doubtless, did have more or less influence on Stanley, it did not weaken his faith in the "strong battalions," which was, in his case, a wise provision, so far as he could make it, against all possible and probable contingencies.
We have said thus much to show the real relations that Frank Pocoke at last sustained to the expedition. In the long and terrible march through the gloomy forest after leaving Zywague, and before finally launching on the Lualaba, to quit it no more till they reached the sea or lay at rest forever on its solitary banks, Pocoke's shoes had become completely worn out. In traversing, half-barefoot, the tangled undergrowth, they had at last given out entirely, and the result was his feet became chafed, and at last, through constant irritation, caused by the necessity of hastening forward at all hazards, the abrasions that would havehealed, could they have made a short halt, became ulcers, so that when they again struck the Lualaba he was unable to walk any farther, and Stanley said that if at any time they would have to leave the river and carry around rapids, Frank would have to be carried also. Stanley always led the way over the rapids and selected the paths for hauling around the canoes, while Pocoke superintended the soldiers, distributed the rations, etc. But now he was placed on the sick-list.
On the morning of the 3d of June, they came to the Mowwa Falls, around which they must carry and the men shouldered the goods and baggage and started overland for Zinga, three miles distant, while Stanley attempted to run two small falls, named Massesse and Massassa, with the boat's crew. Hugging the shore for about three-quarters of a mile, they came at last to a lofty cliff, against which the tide threw the down-rushing stream back in such fury that great whirlpools were formed and they steered for the centre of the river and endeavored to stem the tide, but failed. After fighting fiercely against the raging of whirlpools, they tried again to advance in another direction, when Stanley discovered that his boat was fast filling with water, while the surface became still more terribly agitated at a point toward which he had been unconsciously drifting. The danger now became imminent. Shouting to the men to leave off bailing and pull for life for the shore, he threwoff his coat, belt and shoes, to be in readiness to swim when the boat should capsize, as he expected it would. A wild whirlpool was near the boat and for a moment it seemed certain that it would drift into the vortex. But by a strong effort it was forced away and they pulled for shore. By the time they had reached it, the leaky boat was half-full of water. Finding it impossible to proceed in it he returned to Mowwa Falls, and after a short rest took a canoe and tried to proceed. But while he was talking with Pocoke, the crew had scattered, and as those who had gone to Zinga had not returned, he determined to go overland and look after the goods, and leave to his chief captain, Manwa Sera, the supervision of the passage of the falls. He told him to first send forward a reserve canoe with short ropes fastened to the sides. "The crew," he said, "will pick their way carefully down the river until near the falls, then let the men judge for themselves whether they are able to take the canoe farther. Above all things stick to the shore and do not play with the river." He then bade Pocoke good-bye, saying he would send him his breakfast immediately with hammock bearers, shook hands and turned to climb the mountain toward the camp.
Sending back the breakfast as he had promised, he paid a visit to the kings of Zinga. Becoming anxious about the boats, as this was the first time he had ever permitted any one but himself to leadthe way in any dangerous part of the river, he about three o'clock took his glass and going to the shore began to look up the river that came tearing out of the mountain like a wild animal and shaking the shores with its loud thunder. Suddenly he saw something black tossing amid the turbulent water. Scanning it closely, he saw it was an upturned canoe and to its sides several men were clinging. He instantly dispatched two chiefs and ten men to a bend toward which the wreck was drifting. The crew, however, knowing there was another cataract just below, attempted to right the boat and save themselves; but, unable to do so, got on the keel and began to paddle for dear life with their hands toward the shore. As they got near the far bank, he saw them jump off the boat and swim for shore. They had hardly reached it when the overturned boat shot by Stanley like an arrow and with one fierce leap dashed over the brink of the cataract and disappeared in the foam and tumult below. In a few minutes a messenger arrived out of breath, saying that eleven men were in that canoe, only eight of whom were saved—the other three being drowned, one of whom was Pocoke. Stanley turned fiercely on Uledi, his coxswain, and demanded how he came to let Pocoke, a lame man, go in the rescue canoe. "Ah, master," he replied, "we could not help it, he would not wait. He said, 'since the canoe is going to camp I will go too. I am hungry and cannotwait any longer. I cannot walk and I do not want you to carry me, that the natives may all laugh at me. No, I will go with you;' and refusing to listen to Captain Manwa Sera, who remonstrated with him, he got in and told us to cast off. We found no trouble in forcing our way against the back current. We struck the down current, and when we were near the fall I steered her into the cove to take a good look at it first. When I had climbed over the rocks and stood over it, I saw that it was a bad place—that it was useless to expect any canoe to go over it without capsizing, and I went to the little master and told him so. He would not believe me, but sent other men to report on it. They told the same story: that the fall could not be passed by shooting over it in a canoe. Then he said we were always afraid of a little water and that we were no men. 'All right,' I said, 'if you say cast off I am ready. I am not afraid of any water, but if anything happens my master will be angry with me.' 'Cast off,' the little master said, 'nothing will happen; am I not here?' You could not have counted ten, master, before we were all sorry. The cruel water caught us and tossed and whirled us about and shot us here and shot us there, and the noise was fearful. Suddenly the little master shouted 'Look out! take hold of the ropes! and he was tearing his shirt off when the canoe, which was whirling round and round with its bow in the air, was dragged down, down, down, until I thoughtmy chest would burst; then we were shot out into daylight again and took some breath. The little master and two of the men were not to be seen, but soon I saw the little master with his face upward but insensible. I instantly struck out for him to save him, but we were both taken down again and the water seemed to be tearing my legs away; but I would not give in; I held my breath hard then and I came to the surface, but the little master was gone forever. This is my story, master." Stanley then examined the men separately, to ascertain if it were true and found it was. This man was brave but not foolhardy, and the best and most reliable in the whole party.