OUR SCHOONER CAUGHT IN A TORNADO.
OUR SCHOONER CAUGHT IN A TORNADO.
BOUND FOR THE INTERIOR—A SEA VOYAGE—A TORNADO—WE REACH THE FERNAND-VAZ—SANGALA WISHES TO DETAIN ME—A NIGHT ALARM—PROSPECT OF A WAR—ARRAYED FOR BATTLE—A COMPROMISE—MY COMMI FRIENDS.
I have been a great wanderer. On the 5th of February, 1857, I was on board of a little schooner, of forty-five tons burden, bound for the mouth of a river called Fernand-Vaz. Fromthere I expected to penetrate into the interior. I was on my way to a wild and unexplored region.
The name of the schooner was the Caroline. She was full of provisions and goods for the long journey I had to undertake; for I intended to make a very long exploration before my return to America. The captain was a Portuguese negro, Cornillo by name. The crew, seven in number, were Mpongwes, Mbingos, and Croomen, not more than two of whom could understand each other, and not a soul could properly understand the captain. A fine prospect for the voyage!
I got aboard at daylight, and should have been glad to go immediately ashore again; but, by dint of steady shouting, and a great deal of standing idle, with a little work now and then, we got the anchor up just at dusk. The captain did not like to leave port on Friday. I told him I would take the responsibility. He asked what good that would do him if he went to the bottom. It appears that the Portuguese have the same absurd superstitions as many of the sailors of other nations.
No sooner had we got into the swell than our two black women, and every man on board (except the captain), got sea-sick. The cook was unable to get the breakfast next morning; and the men were lying about, looking like dying fish.
We set sail from the Gaboon river, and hoped to get down to the Commi country in five days. But for four days after starting we had light wind and a contrary current; and, on the fifth day, we were caught in such a storm at sea as I hope never to experience again.
The steering went on so badly when Captain Cornillo was below, that I was forced to stand watch myself. I had been steering for four hours, and had been perhaps one hour in my berth, when I was awakened from a sound sleep by the captain's voice, giving orders totake down the mainsail. I sprang on deck immediately, knowing there must be at least a heavy squall coming. But no sooner did I cast my eyes to the leeward than I saw how imminent the danger was. A tornado was coming down upon us. The black clouds which had gathered about the horizon were becoming lurid white with startling quickness. It seemed almost as if they were lit up by lightning. The tornado was sweeping along and in a moment would be upon us. As yet all was still—still as death. There was not a breath of wind.
I turned to see if the mainsail was down, but found nothing had been done. The captain was shouting from the wheel; the men were also shouting and running about, half scared to death; and, in the pitchy darkness (for I could not see my hands when held close before my eyes), no one could find the halliards. In the midst of our trouble the wind came roaring down upon us. I seized a knife, determined to cut everything away; but just then somebody let go the halliards, and, in the nick of time, the mainsail came half-way down. The tornado was upon us. The jibs flew away in rags in a moment. The vessel was thrown upon her beam ends. The water rushed over her deck, and the men sang out that we were drowning; as, in fact, we should have been in a very few minutes. Happily the wind shifted a little; and, by the light of some very vivid lightning, we seized on the mainsail, like men that felt it was their last hope, and pulled it down, holding it so that the wind should not catch it again. The vessel righted, and in less than twenty minutes the squall died away, and was succeeded by a driving rain, which poured down in such torrents that in a very short time I was drenched to the skin. The lightning and thunder were something terrific. I was afraid of the lightning, striking us as the Caroline hadno lightning-rod, and we had powder enough on board to blow us all to atoms. The deck was so leaky that even below I could not get protection from the rain.
The next morning we had no jibs, and our other sails were severely damaged. To add to our difficulties, no one on board, not even our captain, knew where we were. At that time I knew not how to make astronomical observations. The captain was in the habit of bringing up, every day, an old quadrant; but about the use of it he knew as much as a cow does about a musket.
At last we made the land. A canoe came on board, and we asked where we were. We found that we must be somewhere near Cape St. Catherine, and therefore a good many miles south of the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, the place where I was bound. So we turned about to retrace our path. Sailing close in shore, when I passed the village of Aniambia, or Big Camma, the natives came with a message from their king, offering me two slaves if I would stay with him.
I was immovable, for I had set my heart on going to the Fernand-Vaz river, of which I heard a good deal, from my friend Aboko, while in the Cape Lopez regions. As we approached that river, the vast column of water, pushing seaward, forced its separate way through the ocean for at least four or five miles; and the water there was almost fresh, and seemed a separate current in the sea.
At last we came to the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, and our fame had gone before us. Some of the Commi people, the inhabitants of the Fernand-Vaz, had seen me before at Cape Lopez. The news had spread that I wanted to settle at the village of a chief called Ranpano; so, as we passed his seashore village, a canoe came off to ask me to land; but as the breakers were rather formidable, I begged to be excused.
Ranpano's men wanted much to hug me; and were so extravagant in their joy, that I had to order them to keep their hands off, their shining and oily bodies having quite soiled my clothes. They went back to the king to tell him the good news. I kept one of these men on board for a pilot, being now anxious to get across the intricate bar, and fairly into the river, before dark.
As we sailed along up the river, canoes belonging to different villages shot out to meet us; and presently I had a crowd alongside anxious to come on board, and sufficient almost to sink us. They took me for a slaver at first, and their joy was unbounded; for there is nothing the African loves so much as to sell his fellowmen. They immediately called out their names in Portuguese: one was Don Miguel, another Don Pedro, another Don Francisco. They began to jabber away in Portuguese. Where they had learned this language I could not tell, unless it were in Sangatanga. I could not understand them; so I sent my captain to talk with them. He had some difficulty to persuade them that I came no such errand as slave-trading. They insisted that I had, and that the vessel looked exactly like a slaver. They said we must buy some of their slaves; they had plenty of them.
They insisted that I should not go to Ranpano. I should put up a factory in their place. They belonged to Elindé, a town just at the mouth of the Fernand-Vaz, whose king is named Sangala. They praised the power and greatness of Sangala, and decried poor Ranpano, until I had to order all hands ashore for the night, being anxious to get a good quiet sleep to prepare for the morrow.
During the night, the men on watch said they heard the paddling of a canoe coming towards us. What could it be? Let us be ready. These men might be comingto board us and make war. At length the canoe came within hailing distance; we shouted to them. (I may say that the Commi speak the same language as the Oroungou people—the inhabitants of Cape Lopez.) They came, they said, with a message from King Sangala. I recognised the voice of the head man in the canoe to be that of Nchouga. He was brother of King Bango of Cape Lopez. Bango had accused Nchouga of bewitching him, whereupon the latter, to save his life, fled from the country; and having married one of the daughters of Sangala, he came to his father-in-law for protection.
Nchouga was a very cunning fellow; fortunately I knew him well, and he could not fool me so easily as he thought. He came to tell me that Sangala was the master of all the river; that he was a very great king; that he would not let me go to Ranpano, who was only a vassal of the great Sangala; therefore, he advised me as a friend—an old friend—to go ashore at Elindé.
I could read the cunning rogue. He had been one of the greatest rascals of Cape Lopez, and his slave dealings had not improved him. So I sent Nchouga off; I wanted to go to sleep. He had come out to test me; they thought I was a green hand at slave-trading.
Early next morning Sangala sent off a boat for me. On my arrival at Elindé, which village was about two miles from the river's mouth, I was conducted to the best house. Hither presently came King Sangala, who, in order to nerve himself for the occasion, had got drunk, and came attended by a great crowd of eager subjects. He grew very angry when I stated my intention of passing up the river, and going to Ranpano, and also into the interior. He declared that I should not go; he was the big king there and everywhere all over the world, and I must settle in his town.
I declared that I should go on. Sometimes I wonder that they did not at once make me a prisoner.
We had some sharp words, and I explained to his majesty that I was an old African traveller, and saw through all his lies; that he was not the big king of the country, as he said. Then he said I might go wherever I liked, provided I would have a factory built in his village.
I said that I had no factory to build in his village; but I offered to "dash" him (give him some presents).
He refused this offer; and now Ranpano, having just come, assured me that I should be backed up. I told Sangala I should force my way up. Sangala and all his people shouted with all their might that there should be war; Sangala, as he got up to say so, reared and tumbled down, he was so drunk.
So I left Sangala. By that time it rained so hard that no one followed us. It is wonderful how a crowd is dispersed by a shower of rain.
A great palaver was looming up; the excitement had spread over the country. In the meantime I had succeeded in going to Ranpano's village, situated up the river, five or six miles above Elindé. Ranpano gave me as much land as I wanted. My goods must come to his village; but it seemed that they could not be brought there without great trouble. Our canoes would be attacked by Sangala's people. Men would be killed; and we might be routed, unless we had a powerful force.
One morning the war drums beat. All Ranpano's friends had gathered to help fight Sangala. Canoe after canoe came in loaded with armed men, with drums beating, and all hands shouting, and waving their swords, guns, and spears. All were prepared to assist Ranpano's white man; all were anxious to burn and plunder Elindé, ready even to die in the undertaking.There was King Ritimbo, with two canoes and fifty men; King Mombon, from Sanguibiuri, also had two canoes; altogether we had no less than twenty big canoes, and could muster about three hundred men, most of whom were drunk onmimbo(palm-wine), and as noisy and as ready for fight as drunkenness will make an African. The drums were beaten, war songs were sung, and guns fired, as we paddled down the river. All hands had their faces painted white, which is a sign of war; and were covered with fetiches and other amulets. The white chalk or ochre was a sovereign protection against danger, and their war fetiches would prevent them from being killed. I could not recognise old Ranpano, his body was so daubed with paint.
One would have supposed these terrible fellows were bent upon the most bloody of raids. I wondered if all this uproar would end in smoke; I thought it would; nor was I disappointed. As these terrible warriors approached the village of Elindé they became less demonstrative. When they came in sight of Sangala's town, they pushed over to the other shore, out of the way, and took care to keep the Caroline between the enemy and themselves. The sight of Sangala's warriors had wrought a wonderful change in their warlike feelings. They really began to think that there might be some fighting.
We found that Sangala had also gathered his friends, and had about one hundred and fifty men ready for the fight, who probably felt about as courageous as my men did. These fellows were painted more outrageously than mine, having red as well as white applied in broad stripes. They looked like so many devils shouting and firing guns, each side knowing their mutual lack of courage, and thinking it prudent to scare the other in advance.
My men fired guns, sung, and danced war dances. I went on board my schooner. One small canoe on Sangala's side, with two men, who were unarmed, started from the shore towards us. This of course meant a palaver; they came on board of the Caroline, where I was. I sent word to Sangala, pointing to two little guns we had on deck, that if he stopped me I would blow his canoes out of the water with grape-shot, and would then go and bring a man-of-war to finish him up. I loaded my guns and pistols before them. I made my men put good charges into their pieces, and showed Sangala's men the bag of bullets I loaded them with, and then sent them back, and awaited the event.
I spied them with a glass. As soon as they landed the people surrounded them; there was a grand palaver.
Presently, from Sangala, came a small canoe to ask me ashore. Sangala sent his Konde (chief wife) to be hostage for my safety. I determined to go ashore, and, to show these negroes that I had no fear of them, I took the woman along with me, to her great joy. Ranpano and his brother kings protested against my rashness as they thought it. "Why not keep Sangala's woman on board?" said they. But I told them it was not the fashion of white people to fear anything. They looked at me as if to say, "If you are not afraid we are." All this had its effect upon them, and Ranpano and his brother kings were evidently impressed, and so also was old Sangala when he saw me come with his wife by my side.
We met on neutral ground outside his town. His army was drawn up in battle array, and made a fine savage display, many of the men wearing beautiful leopard skins about their waists. They came up to us at full trot, when we were seated, and made as thoughthey would spear us all; and, if Sangala had not been close to me, I should have thought it was to be the end of us all. Ranpano kept whispering in my ears, "Why did you not keep Sangala's wife on board?"
But this advance upon us was only a kind of military salute. Sangala, this time, had become more gentle; he was not drunk, and, thinking that perhaps there might really be a fight, he had become very quiet. He did not wish to push matters to extremity.
Presently, Sangala said he would let me pass if I would give him a barrel of rum, a big one. I refused. I said I had none. He insisted that they must rejoice and get drunk. He wanted to get drunk for several days, and drink rum to his heart's content. At last, the palaver was settled, and I gave him many presents; and thereafter King Sangala became one of my best friends.
Ranpano was delighted; he hugged Sangala; he swore eternal friendship, and said that he loved him with all his heart. Sangala returned these compliments. We made a sign, agreed upon to our men, that everything was settled. Immediately they fired guns, embarked in their canoes, and came over to Sangala's village. They made a fine display, as all their canoes came in a line, and they were singing their war songs.
They were met by Sangala's warriors; and they made a rush towards each other as if they were to have a real fight, and then all was over and they laughed over the palaver, and swore that they would not hurt each other for the world.
I need not say how glad I was that everything had ended so well. Captain Cornillo, when everything looked black, swore that he never would come again to this wild country; and the crew said I wanted them all to be murdered.
I found these Commi very good people. I tookashore canoe after canoe, loaded with goods which might well tempt these poor negroes sorely. Many of the things were brought loose to Ranpano's; and yet not a single thing was stolen, not even the value of a penny. They were proud that I had come to settle among them. I was the first white man who had done so.
I love these Commi people dearly; and I am sure they all love me also. They took such great care of me. Ranpano was a very good king, and he always tried to please me, and so did his people. Now and then they did wrong; but these poor people knew no better, and they were sorry afterwards. Not one would have tried to do me an injury, and I could sleep with my doors wide open.
AFRICAN BALL. KING OLENGA-YOMBI DANCING.CHAP. XXII.
AFRICAN BALL. KING OLENGA-YOMBI DANCING.CHAP. XXII.
I BUILD A VILLAGE, AND CALL IT WASHINGTON—I START FOR THE INTERIOR—MY SPEECH ON LEAVING—THE PEOPLE APPLAUD ME VOCIFEROUSLY, AND PROMISE TO BE HONEST—WE REACH ANIAMBIA—THE "BIG KING," OLENGA-YOMBI—A ROYAL BALL IN MY HONOUR—THE SUPERSTITIONS OF THE NATIVES—A MAN TOSSED BY A BUFFALO.
I immediately began building a substantial settlement, not anolako. I collected from a kind of palm tree a great many leaves, with which to cover the roofs of the buildings I had to construct. I gathered also a great quantity of branches from the same palm trees, and sticks, and poles, and all that was necessary to make a house; and finally I succeeded in building quite a village, which I called Washington. My own house had five rooms; it was forty-five feet long by twenty-five wide, and cost me about fifty dollars. My kitchen, which stood by itself, cost four dollars. I had a fowl-house,containing a hundred chickens (and such nice little tiny chickens they are in that country) and a dozen ducks. My goat-house contained eighteen goats, and funny goats they were. You had to milk a dozen of them to get a pint of milk. I built a powder-house separate, for I do not like to sleep every day in a place where there is powder. I had a dozen huts for my men.
This was Washington in Africa, a very different place from Washington in America.
At the back of my village was a wide extent of prairie. In front was the river Npoulounai winding along; and I could see miles out on the way which I was soon to explore. The river banks were lined with the mangrove trees; and, looking up stream, I could at almost any time see schools of hippopotami tossing and tumbling on the flats or mud banks.
I was now ready to explore the country, and go to Aniambia, where the big king of the country lived. I bought a splendid canoe, made of large trees, which I hoped would be serviceable to me in my up-river explorations. I was now anxious to be off.
Before starting I called Ranpano and all his people together, and said that I had perfect confidence in them; that I was their white man, and had come to them through much difficulty and many dangers. (Cheers.) That Sangala's people wanted me, but I was determined to live with the honest folks of Biagano (Ranpano's village). (Tremendous applause.) That I was going away for a few days, and hoped to find my goods all safe when I came back.
At this, there were great shoutings of "You can go! Do not fear! We love you! You are our white man! We will take care of you!" and so on; amid which my sixteen men seized their paddles, and shoved off.
At nine in the evening, the moon rose; and we pulled along through what seemed a charming scene. The placid stream was shaded by the immense trees which overhung its banks; and the silence was broken, now and then, by the screech of some night-prowling blast, or, more frequently, by the sudden plunge of a playful herd of hippopotami, some of which came very dangerously near us, and might have upset our canoe.
Towards midnight, my men became very tired, and we went ashore, at a little village which was nearly deserted. We could find only three old women, who were fast asleep and were not particularly anxious to make us welcome. I was too sleepy to stand upon ceremonies, and stowed myself away under a rough shed without walls. I had scarcely lain down, when there came up, suddenly, one of those fierce tornadoes which pass over these countries in the rainy season.
Fortunately, it was a dry tornado. In my half-sleepy state I did not care to move. As the tornado had unroofed every other shed as well as mine, nothing would have been gained by moving, even if it had rained.
The next morning we paid for our lodging, not in hard cash, but with some leaves of tobacco, and up the river we paddled until we reached a village called Igala Mandé, which is situated on the banks of the river. In a two hours' walk through grass fields we found numerous birds. One, in particular, was new to me, theMycteria senegalensis. It had such long legs that it fairly outwalked me. I tried to catch it; but, though it would not take to its wings, it kept so far ahead that I did not even get a fair shot at it. ThisMycteria senegalensisis a beautiful bird, and wanders here through the grass of the prairie.
There were also great flocks of a beautiful bird, whose dark golden body-plumage and long snow-white downy necks make a very fine and marked contrast with thegreen grass. Next to these, in point of number, was the snow-whiteegretta, which is found in vast flocks all along this coast.
At last we came to Aniambia. Olenga-Yombi, the king, came in from his plantation when he heard the joyful news that a white man had arrived. I paid him a state visit. He was a drunken old wretch, surrounded by a crowd of the chief men of the town. His majesty had on a thick overcoat, but no trousers; and, early as it was, he had already taken a goodly quantity of palm-wine, and was quite drunk. I was invited to sit at his right hand.
King Olenga-Yombi was one of the ugliest fellows I ever met with. He always carried with him a long stick; and when drunk he struck at his people right and left, and shouted, "I am a big king!" Happily, they managed to keep out of his way.
At nightfall I got a guide, and went out to see if I could get a shot at something larger than a bird. We had gone but a little way, when my guide pointed out to me a couple of bright glowing spots, visible through a piece of thick brush. The fellow trembled, as he whispered "Leopard!" But I saw at once that it was only the light of a couple of fireflies which had got in proper position to make a tolerable resemblance to the glowing eyes of the dreaded leopard.
I did not think much of the bravery of my guide. What a difference between him and Aboko, Niamkala, or Fasiko! I wished that I had them with me.
At two o'clock in the morning we at last heard a grunting, which announced the approach of a herd of wild hogs. I lay in wait for them, and I was fortunate enough to kill the big boar of the pack. The rest of the herd made off without showing a desire for fight.
The next day, King Olenga-Yombi held a grand dance in my honour. All the king's wives, to the number of forty, and all the women in the town and neighbourhood were present.
Fortunately, the dance was held out in the street, and not in a room, as at Cape Lopez. The women were ranged on one side, the men opposite. At the end of the line sat the drummers, beating their huge tom-toms, which make an infernal din, enough to make one deaf; and, as if for this occasion the tom-toms were not entirely adequate, there was a series of old brass kettles, which also were furiously beaten. In addition, as if the noise was not yet enough, a number of boys sat near the drummers, and beat on hollow pieces of wood. What beauty they found in such music I cannot tell. There was of course singing and shouting; and the more loudly and energetically the horrid drums were beaten, and the worse the noise on the brass kettles, the wilder were the jumps of the male Africans, and the more disgusting the contortions of the women.
As may be imagined, to beat the tom-tom is not a labour of love; the stoutest negro is worn out in an hour; and for such a night's entertainment as this, a series of drummers was required.
The people enjoyed it vastly; their only regret was that they had not a barrel of rum in the midst of the street, with which to refresh themselves in the pauses of the dance; but they managed to get just as drunk on palm-wine, of which a great quantity was served out.
The excitement became greatest when the king danced. His majesty was pretty drunk, and his jumps were very highly applauded. His wives bowed down to his feet while he capered about, and showed towards him the deepest veneration. The drums and kettles were belaboured more furiously than ever, and the singing, or rather the shouting, became stentorian.
Of course I did not think his majesty's party pleasantenough to detain me all night. I retired, but could not sleep.
Now I think I have given you a sufficient account of a ball at Aniambia, and of how his majesty Olenga-Yombi danced.
There are two very curious fetich-houses in Aniambia, which enjoy the protection of two spirits of great power—Abambou and Mbiuri. The former is an evil spirit, a kind of devil; the latter, as far as I have been able to ascertain, is beneficent.
The little houses where these spirits sometimes condescend to come and sleep for the night were about six feet square. In the house of Abambou I saw a fire, which I was told was never permitted to go out. I saw no idol, but only a large chest, on the top of which were some white and red chalk and some red parrot-feathers. The chalk was used to mark the bodies of the devout.
Abambou is the devil of the Commi people. He is a wicked and mischievous fellow, who often lives near graves and burial-grounds, and is most comfortably lodged among the skeletons of the dead. He takes occasional walks through the country, and, if he gets angry at anyone, he has the power to cause sickness and death. The Commi people cook food for him, which is deposited in lonely places in the woods, and there they address him in a flattering manner, and ask him to be good to them, and, in consideration of their gifts, and of the great care they take of him, to let them alone. I was present once at a meeting where Abambou was being addressed in public. They cried continually: "Now we are well! Now we are satisfied! Now be our friend, Abambou, and do not hurt us!"
The offerings of plantain, bananas, sugar-cane, ground-nuts, etc., etc., are wrapped in leaves by thefree men, but the slaves lay them on the bare ground. Sometimes Abambou is entreated to kill the enemies of him who is making the offering. A bed is made in Abambou's house, and there he is believed to rest himself sometimes, when he is tired going up and down the coast in the forest.
Mbiuri, whose house I next visited, is lodged and kept much in the same way as his rival. He is a good spirit, but his powers are like those of Abambou, as far as I could make out. Not being wicked, he is less zealously worshipped.
These Commi people are full of superstition. They believe in a third and much-dreaded spirit, called Ovengua. This is a terrible catcher andeaterof men. He is not worshipped, and has no power over disease; but he wanders unceasingly through the forests, and catches and destroys luckless travellers who cross his path. By day he lives in dark caverns, but at night he roams freely, and even sometimes gets into the body of a man, and beats and kills all who come out in the dark. Sometimes, they relate, such a spirit is met and resisted by a body of men, who wound him with spears, and even kill him. In this case the body must be burned, and not even the smallest bone left, lest a new Ovengua should arise from it. There are many places where no object in the world would induce a Commi negro to go by night, for fear of this dreadful monster.
They have a singular belief that when a person dies who has been bewitched, the bones of his body leave the grave one by one, and form in a single line united to each other, which line of bones gradually becomes an Ovengua.
It is not an easy matter to get at the religious notions of these people. They themselves have no well-defined ideas of them, and on many points they are not very communicative.
I suppose they think that sometimes the Ovengua is in a man; hence they kill him and burn his body.
Of course the Commi people, like all other negroes, are firm believers in witchcraft.
Not very far from Aniambia, there is a place in the forest which is supposed to be haunted by the spirit of a crazy woman, who, some hundreds of years ago, left her home. They believe that she cultivates her plantation in some hidden recess in the forest, and that she often lies in wait for travellers, whom she beats and kills out of pure malice.
While at Aniambia I had a great adventure with abos brachicheros, which might have ended in a terrible way. I started out early one day to try and get a shot at some buffaloes which were said to be in the prairie at the back of the town. I had been an hour on the plains with Ifouta, a hunter, when we came upon a bull feeding in the midst of a little prairie surrounded by woods, which made an approach easy. I remember well how beautiful the animal looked. Ifouta walked round through the jungle opposite to where I lay in wait; for, if the animal should take fright at him, it might fly towards me. When he reached the right position, Ifouta began to crawl, in the hunter's fashion, through the grass towards his prey. All went well till he came near enough for a shot. Just then, unluckily, the bull saw him. Ifouta immediately fired. It was a long shot, and he only wounded the beast, which, quite infuriated, immediately rushed upon him. It was now that poor Ifouta lost his presence of mind. In such cases, which are continually happening to those who hunt thebos brachicheros, the proper course for the hunter is to remain perfectly quiet till the beast is within a jump of him, then to step nimbly to one side, and let him rush past. But Ifouta got up and ran.
The bull ran faster than he, and in a moment had him on his horns. He tossed him high into the air, once, twice, thrice, before I could come up; for, as soon as I saw what had happened, I ran as fast as I could to the rescue, and my shouts drew the bull's fury upon myself. He left Ifouta and came rushing at me, thinking that he would serve me as he had just served Ifouta. Master Bull was sadly mistaken. I took a good aim, and down came the bull, to rise no more.
Ifouta proved to be considerably bruised; but, on the whole, he was more scared than hurt. It was fortunate for him that the horns of these buffaloes slant backwards a good deal, and are curved.
CAPTURING A YOUNG GORILLA.
CAPTURING A YOUNG GORILLA.
CAPTURE OF A YOUNG GORILLA—I CALL HIM "FIGHTING JOE"—HIS STRENGTH AND BAD TEMPER—HE PROVES UNTAMEABLE—JOE ESCAPES—RE-CAPTURED—ESCAPES AGAIN—UNPLEASANT TO HANDLE—DEATH OF "FIGHTING JOE."
I remember well the day when I first possessed a live gorilla. Yes, a gorilla that could roar; a young gorilla alive! He was captured not far from Cape St. Catherine, and dragged into Washington.
My hunters were five in number, and were walking very silently through the forest, when suddenly the silence was broken by the cry of a young gorilla for its mother. Everything was still. It was about noon, and they immediately determined to follow the cry.
Soon they heard the cry again. Gun in hand, the brave fellows crept noiselessly towards a clump of wood where the baby gorilla evidently was. They knew the mother would be near; and there was a likelihood that they might encounter the male also, which they dread more than they do the mother. But they determined to risk everything, and, if possible, to take the young one alive, knowing how pleased I should be, for I had been long trying to capture a young gorilla.
Presently they perceived the bush moving; and crawling a little farther on, in dead silence, scarcely breathing with excitement, they beheld what had seldom been seen even by negroes. A young gorilla was seated on the ground, as the picture shows you, eating some berries, which grew close to the earth. A few feet farther on sat the mother, also eating of the same fruit.
Instantly they made ready to fire; and none too soon, for the old female saw them as they raised their guns, and they had to pull triggers without delay. Happily, they wounded her mortally.
She fell on her face, the blood gushing from the wounds. The young one, hearing the noise of the guns, ran to his mother and clung to her, hiding his face and embracing her body. The hunters immediately rushed towards the two, hallooing with joy. How much I wished that I had been with them, and been so fortunate as to assist in the capture of a live gorilla!
Their shouts roused the little one, who, by this time, was covered with blood coming from his mother'swounds. He instantly let go of his mother and ran to a small tree, which he climbed with great agility. There he sat and roared at them savagely. They were now perplexed how to get at him. What was to be done? No one cared to run the chance of being bitten by this savage little beast. They did not want to shoot him, for they knew I should never forgive them for doing so. He would not come down the tree, and they did not care to climb it after him. At last they cut down the tree, and, as it fell, they dexterously threw a cloth over the head of the young monster, and thus gained time to secure it while it was blinded. With all these precautions, one of the men received a severe bite on the hand, and another had a piece taken out of his leg.
The little brute, though very diminutive, and the merest baby in age, was astonishingly strong, and by no means good-tempered. They found they could not lead him. He constantly rushed at them, showing fight, and manifesting a strong desire to take a piece, or several pieces, out of every one of their legs, which were his special objects of attack. So they were obliged to get a forked stick, in which his neck was inserted in such a way that he could not escape, and yet could be kept at a safe distance. It must have been very uncomfortable for him; but it was the only way of securing themselves against his nails and teeth, and thus he was brought to Washington.
The excitement in the village was intense, as the animal was lifted out of the canoe in which he had come down the river. He roared and bellowed; and looked around wildly with his wicked little eyes, giving fair warning that if he could get at any of us he would take his revenge. Of course, no one came in his way.
I saw that the stick hurt his neck, and immediatelyset about having a cage made for him. In two hours we had built a strong bamboo house with the slats securely tied at such a distance apart that we could see the gorilla, and it could see out. We made it as strong as we could, and I was very careful to provide against every chance of his escaping. In this cage he was immediately deposited; and now, for the first time, I had a fair chance to look at my prize.
As I approached the cage he darted at me; but I could afford to have a good laugh over him, for I knew he could not get near enough to bite me. He looked at me with very savage eyes.
I named the gorilla Joe—"Fighting Joe." He was evidently not three years old, but fully able to walk alone, and possessed, for his age, of very extraordinary strength. His height was about three feet and six inches. His hands and face were very black, his eyes were sunken. The hair on his head was of a reddish-brown colour. It began just at the eyebrows and came down the sides of the face to the lower jaw, just as our beards grow. The whiskers, if we may call them so, were of a blackish colour. The face was smooth, and intensely black. The upper lip was covered with short, coarse hair; I wondered if it was the beginning of a moustache. I found afterwards that gorillas had no moustaches. The lower lip had longer hair; and I wondered also if in time an imperial would grow there. There were eyelashes too, though these were slight and thin. The eyebrows were straight. Excepting the face, and the palms of his hands and feet, his whole body was covered with hair. On the back, the hair was of an iron grey, becoming quite dark near the arms. On the arms, the hair was longer than anywhere else on the body, as you may see by the picture.
After I had looked carefully at the little fellow, andknew well that he was safely locked in his cage, I ventured to approach him to say a few encouraging words. He stood in the farthest corner; but as I approached, he bellowed and made a precipitate rush at me. Though I retreated as quickly as I could, he succeeded in catching my trousers' legs with the toes of one of his feet, and then retreated immediately to the farthest corner. This taught me caution; I must not approach too near.
Shall I be able to tame him? I thought I should; but I was disappointed.
He sat in his corner, looking wickedly out of his grey eyes; and I never saw a more morose or ill-tempered face than this little beast had. I do not believe that gorillas ever smile.
Of course I had to attend to the wants of my captive. My first business in the morning was to attend on Joe. I sent for some of the forest berries which these animals are known to prefer, and placed these and a cup of water within his reach. He was exceedingly shy, and would neither eat nor drink till I had removed to a considerable distance.
The second day I found Joe fiercer than on the first. He rushed savagely at anyone who stood even for a moment near his cage and seemed ready to tear us to pieces. A fine specimen of man-monkey, thought I; a tiger under the disguise of a gorilla. I wondered what kind of a cage a full-grown gorilla would require. I should certainly not care to be his keeper.
I threw Joe pieces of pine-apple leaves; and I noticed that he ate only the white part. There seemed to be no difficulty about his food, as long as it was gathered from his native woods; but he refused all other kinds of food. He was very fond of bananas and ripe plantains.
The third day Joe was still more morose and savage,bellowing when any persons approached, or retiring to a distant corner to make a rush upon them.
On the fourth day, while no one was near, the little rascal succeeded in forcing apart two of the bamboo sticks which composed his cage and made his escape. I came up just as his flight was discovered, and immediately got all the negroes together for pursuit. Where had he gone? I was determined to surround the wood and recapture him. Running into my house to get one of my guns, I was startled by an angry growl issuing from under my low bedstead. It was Master Joe; there was no mistake about it; I knew his growl but too well. Master Joe lay there hid, but anxiously watching my movements. I cleared out faster than I came in. I instantly shut the windows, and called to my people to guard the door. When Joe saw the crowd of black faces he became furious; and with his eyes glaring, and every sign of rage in his little face and body, he got out from beneath the bed. He was about to make a rush at all of us. He was not afraid. A stampede of my men took place. I shut the door quickly, and left Joe master of the premises. I preferred devising some plans for his easy capture, to exposing myself and men to his terrible teeth; for the little rascal could bite very hard, and I did not care to have a piece taken out of one of my legs. How to take him was now a puzzling question. He had shown such strength and such rage already that I did not care, and none of my men seemed to care, to run the chance of getting badly beaten in a hand-to-hand struggle, in which we were pretty sure to come off the worse. Meantime, peeping through the keyhole, I saw Master Joe standing still in the middle of the room looking about for his enemies, and examining, with some surprise, the furniture. He seemed to think that he had never seen such things before. I watched withfear, lest the ticking of my clock should attract his attention, and perhaps lead him to an assault upon that precious article. Indeed, I should have left Joe in possession, but for a fear that he would destroy the many little articles of value or curiosity I had hung about the walls, and which reminded me so much of America.
Finally, seeing Joe to be quiet, I despatched some fellows for a net; and, opening the door quickly, I threw this over his head. Fortunately we succeeded at the first throw in effectually entangling the young monster, who roared frightfully, and struck and kicked in every direction under the net. So fearfully was he excited that I thought he would die in a fit of rage. I took hold of the back of his neck; two men seized his arms, and another the legs; and, thus held by four men, we could hardly manage Joe.
We carried him as quickly as we could to the cage, which had been repaired, and then once more locked him in. I never saw such a furious beast in my life as he was. He darted at everyone. He bit the bamboos of his cage. He glared at us with venomous and sullen eyes, and in every motion showed a temper thoroughly wicked and malicious.
After this Joe got worse than ever; and as good treatment only made him more morose and savage, I tried what starvation would do towards breaking his spirit. Besides, it began to be troublesome to procure his food from the woods, and I wanted him to become accustomed to civilized food, which was placed before him. But he would touch nothing of the kind. How was I to bring him to America? I could not put an African forest on board. As for his temper, after starving him for twenty-four hours, all I gained was, that he came slowly up and took some berries from the forest out of my hand and then immediately retreatedto his corner to eat them. Daily attentions from me, for a fortnight more, did not bring me any further confidence from him than this. He always snarled at me; and only when very hungry would he take even his choicest food from my hand.
At the end of this fortnight I came one day to feed him, and found that he had gnawed a bamboo to pieces slily, and again made his escape. Luckily he had but just gone, for as I looked around I caught a sight of him making off on all fours, and with great speed, across the prairie for a clump of trees.
I at once gave the alarm. I called the men up, and we gave chase, taking with us all the fishing nets. He saw us, and, before we could head him off, made for another clump, which was thicker and larger. This we surrounded. He did not ascend a tree, but stood defiantly at the border of the wood. About one hundred and fifty of us surrounded him. As we moved up he began to yell, and made a sudden dash upon a poor fellow who was in advance. The fellow ran, and tumbled down in affright. By his fall he escaped the tender mercies of Joe's teeth; but he also detained the little rascal long enough for the nets to be thrown over him.
Four of us bore him again, struggling, into the village. This time I would not trust him to the cage, but fastened a small chain round his neck. This operation he resisted with all his might, and it took us quite an hour to securely chain the little fellow, whose strength was something marvellous.
Ten days after he was thus chained he died quite suddenly. He had been in good health, and ate plentifully of his natural food, which was brought every day from the forest for him. He did not seem to sicken until two days before his death. He died in some pain. To the last he continued utterly untameable, and after his chain was put on he added treachery to his other vices. He would come sometimes quite readily to eat out of my hand, but while I stood by him would suddenly—looking me all the time in the face to keep my attention—put out his foot and grasp at my leg. Several times he tore my pantaloons in this manner. A quick retreat on my part saved my legs from further injury, but I had to be very careful in my approaches. The negroes could not come near him at all without setting him in a rage. He seemed always to remember that they captured him, and to think he had experienced rather too hard treatment at their hands; but he evidently always cherished towards me also a feeling of revenge.
After he was chained I filled a half barrel with hay, and set it near him for his bed. He recognised its use at once, and it was pretty to see him shake up the hay and creep into this nest when he was tired. At night he always shook it up, and then took some hay in his hands, with which he would cover himself when he was snug in his barrel. He often moaned, for his mother perhaps, at night.
After Joe died I stuffed his body, and brought his skin and skeleton to New York, where many saw it. Around his neck, where the chain had been, the hair was worn off.
Poor Joe! I wish he had lived and become tame, so that I could have brought him home with me to show the children.
Now poor Joe can be seen stuffed in the British Museum.