Chapter Ten.Water Appreciated—Destructive Files, Etcetera.Our first start from the village where we had been entertained so hospitably and so long was productive of much amusement to ourselves and to the natives.We had determined to accept of three oxen from the chief, and to ride these when we felt fatigued; but we thought it best to let our native porters carry our baggage on their shoulders, as they had hitherto done.When the animals were led up to our hut, we could not refrain from laughing. They were three sturdy-looking dark-skinned oxen, with wicked-looking black eyes and very long horns.“Now, Jack, do you get up first,” said Peterkin, “and show us what we are to expect.”“Nay, lad; I am still entitled to be considered an invalid: so you must get up first, and not only so, but you must try them all, in order that I may be enabled to select the quietest.”“Upon my word, you are becoming despotic in your sickness, and you forget that it is but a short time since I came down from a journey to the sky, and that my poor bones are still tender. But here goes. I was born to be victimised, so I submit to the decrees of Fate.”Peterkin went up to one of the oxen and attempted to mount it; but the animal made a demonstration of an intention to gore him, and obstinately objected to this.“Hold him tight, Mak,” he cried, after several futile attempts to mount. “I was always good at leap-frog when a schoolboy; see if I don’t bring my powers into play now.”So saying, he went behind the ox, took a short race and sprang with the agility of a monkey over its tail on to its back! The ox began to kick and sidle and plunge heavily on receiving this unexpected load; but its rider held on well, until it took it into its head to dart under a neighbouring tree, the lower branches of which swept him off and caused him to fall with a heavy plump to the ground.“I told you so,” he cried, rising with a rueful face, and rubbing himself as he limped forward. However, his pain was more than half affected, for the next minute he was on the back of another ox. This one also proved restive, but not so much so as the first. The third was a very quiet animal, so Jack appropriated it as his charger.Having bade adieu to the chief and rubbed noses with him and with several of our friends in the village, we all three got upon our novel steeds and set forth. But we had not got away from the village more than a mile when the two restive oxen began to display a firm determination to get rid of their intolerable burden. Mine commenced to back and sidle, and Peterkin’s made occasional darts forward, and then stopping suddenly, refused to budge a step. We lost all patience at last, and belaboured them soundly with twigs, the effect of which was to make them advance rather slowly, and evidently under protest.“Look out for branches,” cried Peterkin as we came up to a narrow belt of wood.I had scarcely time to raise my head when I was swept off my seat and hurled to the ground by a large branch. Peterkin’s attention was drawn to me, and his ox, as if aware of the fact, seized the opportunity to swerve violently to one side, thereby throwing its rider off. Both animals gave a bellow, as of triumph, erected their tails, and ran away. They were soon recaptured, however, by our negroes; and mounting once more, we belaboured them well and continued our journey. In course of time they became more reconciled to their duties; but I cannot say that I ever came to enjoy such riding, and all of us ultimately agreed that it was a most undesirable thing to journey on ox-back.Thus we commenced our journey over this desert or plain of Africa, and at the end of many weeks found ourselves approaching that part of the country near the equator in which the gorilla is said to dwell. On the way we had many adventures, some of an amusing, some of a dangerous character, and I made many additions to my collection of animals, besides making a number of valuable and interesting notes in my journal; but all this I am constrained to pass over, in order to introduce my reader to those regions in which some of our most wonderful adventures occurred.One or two things, however, I must not omit to mention.In passing over the desert we suffered much from want of water. Frequently the poor oxen had to travel two or three days without tasting a drop, and their distress was so great that we more than once thought of turning them adrift at the first good watering-place we should come to, and proceed, as formerly, on foot; for we had all recovered our wonted vigour, and were quite capable of standing the fatigues of the journey as well as our men. But several times we had found the country destitute of game, and were reduced to the point of starvation; so we continued to keep the oxen, lest we should require them for food.On one occasion we were wending our way slowly along the bed of what in the rainy season would become a large river, but which was now so thoroughly dry that we could not find even a small pool in which the oxen might slake their thirst. They had been several days absolutely without a drop of water, while we were reduced to a mouthful or two per man in the day. As we could not exist much longer without the life-giving fluid, Jack dismounted, and placing the load of one of the men on the ox’s back, sent him off in advance to look for water. We had that morning seen the footprints of several animals which are so fond of water that they are never found at any great distance from some spot where it may be found. We therefore felt certain of falling in with it ere long.About two hours afterwards our negro returned, saying that he had discovered a pool of rain-water, and showing the marks of mud on his knees in confirmation of the truth of what he said.“Ask him if there’s much of it, Mak,” said Jack, as we crowded eagerly round the man.“Hims say there be great plenty ob it—’nuff to tumble in.”Gladdened by this news we hastened forward. The oxen seemed to have scented the water from afar, for they gradually became more animated, and quickened their pace of their own accord, until they at last broke into a run. Peterkin and I soon outstripped our party, and quite enjoyed the gallop.“There it is,” cried my comrade joyfully, pointing to a gleaming pond in a hollow of the plain not two hundred yards off.“Hurrah!” I shouted, unable to repress my delight at the sight.The oxen rushed madly forward, and we found that they were away with us. No pulling at our rope-bridles had any effect on them. My companion, foreseeing what would happen, leaped nimbly off just as he reached the margin of the pond. I being unable to collect my thoughts for the emergency, held on. My steed rushed into the water up to the neck, and stumbling as he did so, threw me into the middle of the pond, out of which I scrambled amidst the laughter of the whole party, who came up almost as soon as the oxen, so eager were they to drink.After appeasing our own thirst we stood looking at the oxen, and it really did our hearts good to see the poor thirsty creatures enjoy themselves so thoroughly. They stood sucking in the water as if they meant to drink up the whole pond, half shutting their eyes, which became mild and amiable in appearance under the influence of extreme satisfaction. Their sides, which had been for the last two days in a state of collapse, began to swell, and at last were distended to such an extent that they seemed as if ready to burst. In point of fact the creatures were actually as full as they could hold; and when at length they dragged themselves slowly, almost unwillingly, out of the pool, any sudden jerk or motion caused some of the water to run out of their mouths!Some time after that we were compelled to part with our poor steeds, in consequence of their being bitten by an insect which caused their death.This destructive fly, which is called tsetse, is a perfect scourge in some parts of Africa. Its bite is fatal to the horse, ox, and dog, yet, strange to say, it is not so to man or to wild animals. It is not much larger than the common house-fly, and sucks the blood in the same manner as the mosquito, by means of a proboscis with which it punctures the skin. When man is bitten by it, no more serious evil than slight itching of the part follows. When the ox is bitten no serious effect follows at first, but a few days afterwards a running takes place at the eyes and nose, swellings appear under the jaw and on other parts of the body, emaciation quickly follows, even although the animal may continue to graze, and after a long illness, sometimes of many weeks, it dies in a state of extreme exhaustion.The tsetse inhabits certain localities in great numbers, while other places in the immediate neighbourhood are entirely free. Those natives, therefore, who have herds of cattle avoid the dangerous regions most carefully; yet, despite their utmost care, they sometimes come unexpectedly on thehabitatof this poisonous fly, and lose the greater part of their cattle.When our poor oxen were bitten and the fatal symptoms began to appear, we knew that their fate was sealed; so we conducted them into a pleasant valley on which we chanced to alight, where there was plenty of grass and water, and there we left them to die.Another incident occurred to us in this part of our journey which is worthy of record.One day Peterkin and I had started before our party with our rifles, and had gone a considerable distance in advance of them, when we unexpectedly came upon a band of natives who were travelling in an opposite direction. Before coming up with their main body, we met with one of their warriors, who came upon us suddenly in the midst of a wooded spot, and stood rooted to the earth with fear and amazement; at which, indeed, we were not much surprised, for as he had probably never seen white faces before, he must have naturally taken us for ghosts or phantoms of some sort.He was armed with shield and spear, but his frame was paralysed with terror. He seemed to have no power to use his weapons. At first we also stood in silent wonder, and returned his stare with interest; but after a few seconds the comicality of the man’s appearance tickled Peterkin so much that he burst into a fit of laughter, which had the effect of increasing the terror of the black warrior to such a degree that his teeth began to chatter in his head. He actually grew livid in the face. I never beheld a more ghastly countenance.“I say, Ralph,” observed my companion, after recovering his composure, “we must try to show this fellow that we don’t mean him any harm, else he’ll die of sheer fright.”Before I could reply, or any steps could be taken towards this end, his party came up, and we suddenly found ourselves face to face with at least a hundred men, all of whom were armed with spears or bows and arrows. Behind them came a large troop of women and children. They were all nearly naked, and I observed that they were blacker in the skin than most of the negroes we had yet met with.“Here’s a pretty mess,” said Peterkin, looking at me.“What is to be done?” said I.“If we were to fire at them, I’d lay a bet they’d run away like the wind,” replied my comrade; “but I can’t bear to think of shedding human blood if it can possibly be avoided.”While we spoke, the negroes, who stood about fifty yards distant from us, were consulting with each other in eager voices, but never for a moment taking their eyes off us.“What say you to fire over their heads?” I suggested.“Ready, present, then,” cried Peterkin, with a recklessness of manner that surprised me.We threw forward our rifles, and discharged them simultaneously.The effect was tremendous. The whole band—men, women, and children—uttered an overwhelming shriek, and turning round, fled in mad confusion from the spot. Some of the warriors turned, however, ere they had gone far, and sent a shower of spears at us, one of which went close past my cheek.“We have acted rashly, I fear,” said I, as we each sought shelter behind a tree.No doubt the savages construed this act of ours into an admission that we did not consider ourselves invulnerable, and plucked up courage accordingly, for they began again to advance towards us, though with hesitation. I now saw that we should be compelled to fight for our lives, and deeply regretted my folly in advising Peterkin to fire over their heads; but happily, before blood was drawn on either side, Makarooroo and Jack came running towards us. The former shouted an explanation of who and what we were to our late enemies, and in less than ten minutes we were mingling together in the most amicable manner.We found that these poor creatures were starving, having failed to procure any provisions for some time past, and they were then on their way to another region in search of game. We gave them as much of our provisions as we could spare, besides a little tobacco, which afforded them inexpressible delight. Then rubbing noses with the chief, we parted and went on our respective ways.
Our first start from the village where we had been entertained so hospitably and so long was productive of much amusement to ourselves and to the natives.
We had determined to accept of three oxen from the chief, and to ride these when we felt fatigued; but we thought it best to let our native porters carry our baggage on their shoulders, as they had hitherto done.
When the animals were led up to our hut, we could not refrain from laughing. They were three sturdy-looking dark-skinned oxen, with wicked-looking black eyes and very long horns.
“Now, Jack, do you get up first,” said Peterkin, “and show us what we are to expect.”
“Nay, lad; I am still entitled to be considered an invalid: so you must get up first, and not only so, but you must try them all, in order that I may be enabled to select the quietest.”
“Upon my word, you are becoming despotic in your sickness, and you forget that it is but a short time since I came down from a journey to the sky, and that my poor bones are still tender. But here goes. I was born to be victimised, so I submit to the decrees of Fate.”
Peterkin went up to one of the oxen and attempted to mount it; but the animal made a demonstration of an intention to gore him, and obstinately objected to this.
“Hold him tight, Mak,” he cried, after several futile attempts to mount. “I was always good at leap-frog when a schoolboy; see if I don’t bring my powers into play now.”
So saying, he went behind the ox, took a short race and sprang with the agility of a monkey over its tail on to its back! The ox began to kick and sidle and plunge heavily on receiving this unexpected load; but its rider held on well, until it took it into its head to dart under a neighbouring tree, the lower branches of which swept him off and caused him to fall with a heavy plump to the ground.
“I told you so,” he cried, rising with a rueful face, and rubbing himself as he limped forward. However, his pain was more than half affected, for the next minute he was on the back of another ox. This one also proved restive, but not so much so as the first. The third was a very quiet animal, so Jack appropriated it as his charger.
Having bade adieu to the chief and rubbed noses with him and with several of our friends in the village, we all three got upon our novel steeds and set forth. But we had not got away from the village more than a mile when the two restive oxen began to display a firm determination to get rid of their intolerable burden. Mine commenced to back and sidle, and Peterkin’s made occasional darts forward, and then stopping suddenly, refused to budge a step. We lost all patience at last, and belaboured them soundly with twigs, the effect of which was to make them advance rather slowly, and evidently under protest.
“Look out for branches,” cried Peterkin as we came up to a narrow belt of wood.
I had scarcely time to raise my head when I was swept off my seat and hurled to the ground by a large branch. Peterkin’s attention was drawn to me, and his ox, as if aware of the fact, seized the opportunity to swerve violently to one side, thereby throwing its rider off. Both animals gave a bellow, as of triumph, erected their tails, and ran away. They were soon recaptured, however, by our negroes; and mounting once more, we belaboured them well and continued our journey. In course of time they became more reconciled to their duties; but I cannot say that I ever came to enjoy such riding, and all of us ultimately agreed that it was a most undesirable thing to journey on ox-back.
Thus we commenced our journey over this desert or plain of Africa, and at the end of many weeks found ourselves approaching that part of the country near the equator in which the gorilla is said to dwell. On the way we had many adventures, some of an amusing, some of a dangerous character, and I made many additions to my collection of animals, besides making a number of valuable and interesting notes in my journal; but all this I am constrained to pass over, in order to introduce my reader to those regions in which some of our most wonderful adventures occurred.
One or two things, however, I must not omit to mention.
In passing over the desert we suffered much from want of water. Frequently the poor oxen had to travel two or three days without tasting a drop, and their distress was so great that we more than once thought of turning them adrift at the first good watering-place we should come to, and proceed, as formerly, on foot; for we had all recovered our wonted vigour, and were quite capable of standing the fatigues of the journey as well as our men. But several times we had found the country destitute of game, and were reduced to the point of starvation; so we continued to keep the oxen, lest we should require them for food.
On one occasion we were wending our way slowly along the bed of what in the rainy season would become a large river, but which was now so thoroughly dry that we could not find even a small pool in which the oxen might slake their thirst. They had been several days absolutely without a drop of water, while we were reduced to a mouthful or two per man in the day. As we could not exist much longer without the life-giving fluid, Jack dismounted, and placing the load of one of the men on the ox’s back, sent him off in advance to look for water. We had that morning seen the footprints of several animals which are so fond of water that they are never found at any great distance from some spot where it may be found. We therefore felt certain of falling in with it ere long.
About two hours afterwards our negro returned, saying that he had discovered a pool of rain-water, and showing the marks of mud on his knees in confirmation of the truth of what he said.
“Ask him if there’s much of it, Mak,” said Jack, as we crowded eagerly round the man.
“Hims say there be great plenty ob it—’nuff to tumble in.”
Gladdened by this news we hastened forward. The oxen seemed to have scented the water from afar, for they gradually became more animated, and quickened their pace of their own accord, until they at last broke into a run. Peterkin and I soon outstripped our party, and quite enjoyed the gallop.
“There it is,” cried my comrade joyfully, pointing to a gleaming pond in a hollow of the plain not two hundred yards off.
“Hurrah!” I shouted, unable to repress my delight at the sight.
The oxen rushed madly forward, and we found that they were away with us. No pulling at our rope-bridles had any effect on them. My companion, foreseeing what would happen, leaped nimbly off just as he reached the margin of the pond. I being unable to collect my thoughts for the emergency, held on. My steed rushed into the water up to the neck, and stumbling as he did so, threw me into the middle of the pond, out of which I scrambled amidst the laughter of the whole party, who came up almost as soon as the oxen, so eager were they to drink.
After appeasing our own thirst we stood looking at the oxen, and it really did our hearts good to see the poor thirsty creatures enjoy themselves so thoroughly. They stood sucking in the water as if they meant to drink up the whole pond, half shutting their eyes, which became mild and amiable in appearance under the influence of extreme satisfaction. Their sides, which had been for the last two days in a state of collapse, began to swell, and at last were distended to such an extent that they seemed as if ready to burst. In point of fact the creatures were actually as full as they could hold; and when at length they dragged themselves slowly, almost unwillingly, out of the pool, any sudden jerk or motion caused some of the water to run out of their mouths!
Some time after that we were compelled to part with our poor steeds, in consequence of their being bitten by an insect which caused their death.
This destructive fly, which is called tsetse, is a perfect scourge in some parts of Africa. Its bite is fatal to the horse, ox, and dog, yet, strange to say, it is not so to man or to wild animals. It is not much larger than the common house-fly, and sucks the blood in the same manner as the mosquito, by means of a proboscis with which it punctures the skin. When man is bitten by it, no more serious evil than slight itching of the part follows. When the ox is bitten no serious effect follows at first, but a few days afterwards a running takes place at the eyes and nose, swellings appear under the jaw and on other parts of the body, emaciation quickly follows, even although the animal may continue to graze, and after a long illness, sometimes of many weeks, it dies in a state of extreme exhaustion.
The tsetse inhabits certain localities in great numbers, while other places in the immediate neighbourhood are entirely free. Those natives, therefore, who have herds of cattle avoid the dangerous regions most carefully; yet, despite their utmost care, they sometimes come unexpectedly on thehabitatof this poisonous fly, and lose the greater part of their cattle.
When our poor oxen were bitten and the fatal symptoms began to appear, we knew that their fate was sealed; so we conducted them into a pleasant valley on which we chanced to alight, where there was plenty of grass and water, and there we left them to die.
Another incident occurred to us in this part of our journey which is worthy of record.
One day Peterkin and I had started before our party with our rifles, and had gone a considerable distance in advance of them, when we unexpectedly came upon a band of natives who were travelling in an opposite direction. Before coming up with their main body, we met with one of their warriors, who came upon us suddenly in the midst of a wooded spot, and stood rooted to the earth with fear and amazement; at which, indeed, we were not much surprised, for as he had probably never seen white faces before, he must have naturally taken us for ghosts or phantoms of some sort.
He was armed with shield and spear, but his frame was paralysed with terror. He seemed to have no power to use his weapons. At first we also stood in silent wonder, and returned his stare with interest; but after a few seconds the comicality of the man’s appearance tickled Peterkin so much that he burst into a fit of laughter, which had the effect of increasing the terror of the black warrior to such a degree that his teeth began to chatter in his head. He actually grew livid in the face. I never beheld a more ghastly countenance.
“I say, Ralph,” observed my companion, after recovering his composure, “we must try to show this fellow that we don’t mean him any harm, else he’ll die of sheer fright.”
Before I could reply, or any steps could be taken towards this end, his party came up, and we suddenly found ourselves face to face with at least a hundred men, all of whom were armed with spears or bows and arrows. Behind them came a large troop of women and children. They were all nearly naked, and I observed that they were blacker in the skin than most of the negroes we had yet met with.
“Here’s a pretty mess,” said Peterkin, looking at me.
“What is to be done?” said I.
“If we were to fire at them, I’d lay a bet they’d run away like the wind,” replied my comrade; “but I can’t bear to think of shedding human blood if it can possibly be avoided.”
While we spoke, the negroes, who stood about fifty yards distant from us, were consulting with each other in eager voices, but never for a moment taking their eyes off us.
“What say you to fire over their heads?” I suggested.
“Ready, present, then,” cried Peterkin, with a recklessness of manner that surprised me.
We threw forward our rifles, and discharged them simultaneously.
The effect was tremendous. The whole band—men, women, and children—uttered an overwhelming shriek, and turning round, fled in mad confusion from the spot. Some of the warriors turned, however, ere they had gone far, and sent a shower of spears at us, one of which went close past my cheek.
“We have acted rashly, I fear,” said I, as we each sought shelter behind a tree.
No doubt the savages construed this act of ours into an admission that we did not consider ourselves invulnerable, and plucked up courage accordingly, for they began again to advance towards us, though with hesitation. I now saw that we should be compelled to fight for our lives, and deeply regretted my folly in advising Peterkin to fire over their heads; but happily, before blood was drawn on either side, Makarooroo and Jack came running towards us. The former shouted an explanation of who and what we were to our late enemies, and in less than ten minutes we were mingling together in the most amicable manner.
We found that these poor creatures were starving, having failed to procure any provisions for some time past, and they were then on their way to another region in search of game. We gave them as much of our provisions as we could spare, besides a little tobacco, which afforded them inexpressible delight. Then rubbing noses with the chief, we parted and went on our respective ways.
Chapter Eleven.How We Met With Our First Gorilla, And How We Served Him.“It never rains but it pours,” is a true proverb. I have often noticed, in the course of my observations on sublunary affairs, that events seldom come singly. I have often gone out fishing for trout in the rivers of my native land, day after day, and caught nothing, while at other times I have, day after day, returned home with my basket full.As it was in England, so I found it in Africa. For many days after our arrival in the gorilla country, we wandered about without seeing a single creature of any kind. Lions, we ascertained, were never found in those regions, and we were told that this was in consequence of their having been beaten off the field by gorillas. But at last, after we had all, severally and collectively, given way to despair, we came upon the tracks of a gorilla, and from that hour we were kept constantly on thequi vive, and in the course of the few weeks we spent in that part of the country, we “bagged,” as Peterkin expressed it, “no end of gorillas”—great and small, young and old.I will never forget the powerful sensations of excitement and anxiety that filled our breasts when we came on the first gorilla footprint. We felt as no doubt Robinson Crusoe did when he discovered the footprint of a savage in the sand. Here at last was the indubitable evidence of the existence and presence of the terrible animal we had come so far to see. Here was the footstep of that creature about which we had heard so many wonderful stories, whose existence the civilised world had, up to within a very short time back, doubted exceedingly, and in regard to which, even now, we knew comparatively very little.Makarooroo assured us that he had hunted this animal some years ago, and had seen one or two at a distance, though he had never killed one, and stated most emphatically that the footprint before us, which happened to be in a soft sandy spot, was undoubtedly caused by the foot of a gorilla.Being satisfied on this head, we four sat down in a circle round the footprint to examine it, while our men stood round about us, looking on with deep interest expressed in their dark faces.“At last!” said I, carefully brushing away some twigs that partly covered the impression.“Ay, at last!” echoed Jack, while his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.“Ay,” observed Peterkin, “and a pretty biglasthe must require, too. I shouldn’t like to be his shoemaker. What a thumb, or a toe. One doesn’t know very well which to call it.”“I wonder if it’s old?” said I.“As old as the hills,” replied Peterkin; “at least 50 I would judge from its size.”“You mistake me. I mean that I wonder whether the footprint is old, or if it has been made recently.”“Him’s quite noo,” interposed our guide.“How d’ye know, Mak?”“’Cause me see.”“Ay; but what do you see that enables you to form such an opinion?”“O Ralph, how can you expect a nigger to understand such a sentence as that?” said Jack, as he turned to Mak and added, “What do you see?”“Me see one leetle stick brok in middel. If you look to him you see him white and clean. If hims was old, hims would be mark wid rain and dirt.”“There!” cried Peterkin, giving me a poke in the side, “see what it is to be a minute student of the small things in nature. Make a note of it, Ralph.”I did make a note of it mentally on the spot, and then proposed that we should go in search of the gorilla without further delay.We were in the midst of a dark gloomy wood in the neighbourhood of a range of mountains whose blue serrated peaks rose up into the clouds. Their sides were partly clothed with wood. We were travelling—not hunting—at the time we fell in with the track above referred to, so we immediately ordered the men to encamp where they were, while we should go after the gorilla, accompanied only by Mak, whose nerves we could depend on.Shouldering our trusty rifles, and buckling tight the belts of our heavy hunting-knives, we sallied forth after the manner of American Indians, in single file, keeping, as may well be supposed, a sharp lookout as we went along. The fact was that long delay, frequent disappointment, and now the near prospect of success, conspired together to fill us with a species of nervous excitement that caused us to start at every sound.The woods here were pretty thick, but they varied in their character so frequently that we were at one time pushing slowly among dense, almost impenetrable underwood, at another walking briskly over small plains which were covered in many places with large boulders. It was altogether a gloomy, savage-looking country, and seemed to me well suited to be the home of so dreadful an animal. There were few animals to be seen here. Even birds were scarce, and a few chattering monkeys were almost the only creatures that broke the monotonous silence and solitude around us.“What a dismal place!” said Peterkin, in a low tone. “I feel as if we had got to the fag-end of the world, as if we were about plunging into ancient chaos.”“It is, indeed,” I replied, “a most dreary region. I think that the gorillas will not be disturbed by many hunters with white faces.”“There’s no saying,” interposed Jack. “I should not wonder, now, if you, Ralph, were to go home and write a book detailing our adventures in these parts, that at least half the sportsmen of England would be in Africa next year, and the race of gorillas would probably become extinct.”“If the sportsmen don’t come out until I write a book about them, I fear the gorillas will remain undisturbed for all time to come.”At that time, reader, I was not aware of the extreme difficulty that travellers experience in resisting the urgent entreaties of admiring and too partial friends!Presently we came to a part of the forest where the underwood became so dense that we could scarcely make our way through it at all, and here we began for the first time to have some clearer conception of the immense power of the creature we were in pursuit of; for in order to clear its way it had torn down great branches of the trees, and in one or two places had seized young trees as thick as a man’s arm, and snapped them in two as one would snap a walking-cane.Following the track with the utmost care for several miles, we at length came to a place where several huge rocks lay among the trees. Here, while we were walking along in silence, Makarooroo made a peculiar noise with his tongue, which we knew meant that he had discovered something worthy of special attention, so we came to an abrupt pause and looked at him.“What is it, Mak?” inquired Jack.The guide put his finger on his mouth to impose silence, and stood in a listening attitude with his eyes cast upon the ground, his nostrils distended, and every muscle of his dusky frame rigid, as if he were a statue of black marble. We also listened attentively, and presently heard a sound as of the breaking of twigs and branches.“Dat am be gorilla,” said the guide, in a low whisper.We exchanged looks of eager satisfaction.“How shall we proceed, Mak?” inquired Jack.“We mus’ go bery slow, dis way,” said the guide, imitating the process of walking with extreme caution. “No break leetle stick. If you break leetle stick hims go right away.”Promising Mak that we would attend to his injunctions most carefully, we desired him to lead the way, and in a few minutes after came so near to where the sound of breaking sticks was going on that we all halted, fearing that we should scare the animal away before we could get a sight of it amongst the dense underwood.“What can he be doing?” said I to the guide, as we stood looking at each other for a few seconds uncertain how to act.“Him’s breakin’ down branches for git at him’s feed, s’pose.”“Do you see that?” whispered Peterkin, as he pointed to an open space among the bushes. “Isn’t that a bit o’ the hairy brute?”“It looks like it,” replied Jack eagerly.“Cluck!” ejaculated Makarooroo, making a peculiar noise with his tongue. “Dat him. Blaze away!”“But it may not be a mortal part,” objected Peterkin. “He might escape if only wounded.”“Nebber fear. Hims come at us if hims be wound. Only we mus’ be ready for him.”“All ready,” said Jack, cocking both barrels of his rifle.—“Now, Peterkin, a good aim. If he comes here he shall get a quietus.”All this was said in the lowest possible whispers. Peterkin took a steady aim at the part of the creature that was visible, and fired.I have gone through many wild adventures since then. I have heard the roar of the lion and the tiger in all circumstances, and the laugh of the hyena, besides many other hideous sounds, but I never in all my life listened to anything that in any degree approached in thundering ferocity the appalling roar that burst upon our ears immediately after that shot was fired. I can compare it to nothing, for nothing I ever heard was like it. If the reader can conceive a human fiend endued with a voice far louder than that of the lion, yet retaining a little of the intonation both of the man’s voice and of what we should suppose a fiend’s voice to be, he may form some slight idea of what that roar was. It is impossible to describe it. Perhaps Mak’s expression in regard to it is the most emphatic and truthful: it was absolutely “horriboble!” Every one has heard a sturdy, well-grown little boy, when being thrashed, howling at the very top of his bent. If one can conceive of a full-grown male giant twenty feet high pouring forth his whole soul and voice with similarly unrestrained fervour, he may approximate to a notion of it.And it was not uttered once or twice, but again and again, until the whole woods trembled with it, and we felt as if our ears could not endure more of it without the tympanums being burst.For several moments we stood motionless with our guns ready, expecting an immediate attack, and gazing with awe, not unmingled—at least on my part—with fear, at the turmoil of leaves and twigs and broken branches that was going on round the spot where the monster had been wounded.“Come,” cried Jack at length, losing patience and springing forward; “if he won’t attack us we must attack him.”We followed close on his heels, and next moment emerged upon a small and comparatively open space, in the midst of which we found the gorilla seated on the ground, tearing up the earth with its hands, grinning horribly and beating its chest, which sent forth a loud hollow sound as if it were a large drum. We saw at once that both its thighs had been broken by Peterkin’s shot.Of all the hideous creatures I had ever seen or heard of, none came up in the least degree to this. Apart altogether from its gigantic size, this monster was calculated to strike terror into the hearts of beholders simply by the expression of its visage, which was quite satanic. I could scarcely persuade myself that I was awake. It seemed as if I were gazing on one of those hideous creatures one beholds when oppressed with nightmare.But we had little time to indulge in contemplation, for the instant the brute beheld us it renewed its terrible roar, and attempted to spring up; but both its legs at once gave way, and it fell with a passionate growl, biting the earth, and twisting and tearing bunches of twigs and leaves in its fury. Suddenly it rushed upon us rapidly by means of its fore legs or arms.“Look out, Jack!” we cried in alarm.Jack stood like a rock and deliberately levelled his rifle. Even at this moment of intense excitement I could not help marvelling at the diminutive appearance of my friend when contrasted with the gorilla. In height, indeed, he was of course superior, and would have been so had the gorilla been able to stand erect, but his breadth of shoulder and chest, and his length and size of arm, were strikingly inferior. Just as the monster approached to within three yards of him, Jack sent a ball into its chest, and the king of the African woods fell dead at our feet!It is impossible to convey in words an idea of the gush of mingled feelings that filled our breasts as we stood beside and gazed at the huge carcass of our victim. Pity at first predominated in my heart, then I felt like an accomplice to a murder, and then an exulting sensation of joy at having obtained a specimen of one of the rarest animals in the world overwhelmed every other feeling.The size of this animal—and we measured him very carefully—was as follows:—Height, 5 feet 6 inches; girth of the chest, 4 feet 2 inches; spread of its arms, 7 feet 2 inches. Perhaps the most extraordinary measurement was that of the great thumb of its hind foot, which was 5 and a half inches in circumference. When I looked at this and at the great bunches of hard muscles which composed its brawny chest and arms, I could almost believe in the stories told by the natives of the tremendous feats of strength performed by the gorilla. The body of this brute was covered with grey hair, but the chest was bare and covered with tough skin, and its face was intensely black. I shuddered as I looked upon it, for there was something terribly human-like about it, despite the brutishness of its aspect.“Now, I’ll tell you what we shall do,” said Jack, after we had completed our examination of the gorilla. “We will encamp where we are for the night, and send Makarooroo back to bring our fellows up with the packs, so that you, Ralph, will be able to begin the work of skinning and cleaning the bones at once. What say you?”“Agreed, with all my heart,” I replied.“Well, then,” observed Peterkin, “here goes for a fire, to begin with, and then for victuals to continue with. By the way, what say you to a gorilla steak? I’m told the niggers eat him.—Don’t they, Mak?”“Yis, massa, dey does. More dan dat, de niggers in dis part ob country eat mans.”“Eat mans!” echoed Peterkin in horror.“Yis, eat mans, and womins, an’ childerdens.”“Oh, the brutes! But I don’t believe you, Mak. What are the villains called?”“Well, it not be easy for say what dem be called. Miss’naries calls dem canibobbles.”“Ho!” shouted Peterkin, “canibobbles? eh! well done. Mak, I must get you to write a new dictionary; I think it would pay!”“It won’t pay to go on talking like this, though,” observed Jack. “Come, hand me the axe. I’ll fell this tree while you strike a light, Peterkin.—Be off with you, Mak.—As for Ralph, we must leave him to his note-book; I see there is no chance of getting him away from his beloved gorilla till he has torn its skin from its flesh, and its flesh from its bones.”Jack was right. I had now several long hours’ work before me, which I knew could not be delayed, and to which I applied myself forthwith most eagerly, while my comrades lit the fire and prepared the camp, and Makarooroo set off on his return journey to bring up the remainder of our party.That night, while I sat by the light of the camp-fire toiling at my task, long after the others had retired to rest, I observed the features of Jack and Peterkin working convulsively, and their hands clutching nervously as they slept, and I smiled to think of the battles with gorillas which I felt assured they must be fighting, and the enormous “bags” they would be certain to tell of on returning from the realms of dreamland to the regions of reality.
“It never rains but it pours,” is a true proverb. I have often noticed, in the course of my observations on sublunary affairs, that events seldom come singly. I have often gone out fishing for trout in the rivers of my native land, day after day, and caught nothing, while at other times I have, day after day, returned home with my basket full.
As it was in England, so I found it in Africa. For many days after our arrival in the gorilla country, we wandered about without seeing a single creature of any kind. Lions, we ascertained, were never found in those regions, and we were told that this was in consequence of their having been beaten off the field by gorillas. But at last, after we had all, severally and collectively, given way to despair, we came upon the tracks of a gorilla, and from that hour we were kept constantly on thequi vive, and in the course of the few weeks we spent in that part of the country, we “bagged,” as Peterkin expressed it, “no end of gorillas”—great and small, young and old.
I will never forget the powerful sensations of excitement and anxiety that filled our breasts when we came on the first gorilla footprint. We felt as no doubt Robinson Crusoe did when he discovered the footprint of a savage in the sand. Here at last was the indubitable evidence of the existence and presence of the terrible animal we had come so far to see. Here was the footstep of that creature about which we had heard so many wonderful stories, whose existence the civilised world had, up to within a very short time back, doubted exceedingly, and in regard to which, even now, we knew comparatively very little.
Makarooroo assured us that he had hunted this animal some years ago, and had seen one or two at a distance, though he had never killed one, and stated most emphatically that the footprint before us, which happened to be in a soft sandy spot, was undoubtedly caused by the foot of a gorilla.
Being satisfied on this head, we four sat down in a circle round the footprint to examine it, while our men stood round about us, looking on with deep interest expressed in their dark faces.
“At last!” said I, carefully brushing away some twigs that partly covered the impression.
“Ay, at last!” echoed Jack, while his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
“Ay,” observed Peterkin, “and a pretty biglasthe must require, too. I shouldn’t like to be his shoemaker. What a thumb, or a toe. One doesn’t know very well which to call it.”
“I wonder if it’s old?” said I.
“As old as the hills,” replied Peterkin; “at least 50 I would judge from its size.”
“You mistake me. I mean that I wonder whether the footprint is old, or if it has been made recently.”
“Him’s quite noo,” interposed our guide.
“How d’ye know, Mak?”
“’Cause me see.”
“Ay; but what do you see that enables you to form such an opinion?”
“O Ralph, how can you expect a nigger to understand such a sentence as that?” said Jack, as he turned to Mak and added, “What do you see?”
“Me see one leetle stick brok in middel. If you look to him you see him white and clean. If hims was old, hims would be mark wid rain and dirt.”
“There!” cried Peterkin, giving me a poke in the side, “see what it is to be a minute student of the small things in nature. Make a note of it, Ralph.”
I did make a note of it mentally on the spot, and then proposed that we should go in search of the gorilla without further delay.
We were in the midst of a dark gloomy wood in the neighbourhood of a range of mountains whose blue serrated peaks rose up into the clouds. Their sides were partly clothed with wood. We were travelling—not hunting—at the time we fell in with the track above referred to, so we immediately ordered the men to encamp where they were, while we should go after the gorilla, accompanied only by Mak, whose nerves we could depend on.
Shouldering our trusty rifles, and buckling tight the belts of our heavy hunting-knives, we sallied forth after the manner of American Indians, in single file, keeping, as may well be supposed, a sharp lookout as we went along. The fact was that long delay, frequent disappointment, and now the near prospect of success, conspired together to fill us with a species of nervous excitement that caused us to start at every sound.
The woods here were pretty thick, but they varied in their character so frequently that we were at one time pushing slowly among dense, almost impenetrable underwood, at another walking briskly over small plains which were covered in many places with large boulders. It was altogether a gloomy, savage-looking country, and seemed to me well suited to be the home of so dreadful an animal. There were few animals to be seen here. Even birds were scarce, and a few chattering monkeys were almost the only creatures that broke the monotonous silence and solitude around us.
“What a dismal place!” said Peterkin, in a low tone. “I feel as if we had got to the fag-end of the world, as if we were about plunging into ancient chaos.”
“It is, indeed,” I replied, “a most dreary region. I think that the gorillas will not be disturbed by many hunters with white faces.”
“There’s no saying,” interposed Jack. “I should not wonder, now, if you, Ralph, were to go home and write a book detailing our adventures in these parts, that at least half the sportsmen of England would be in Africa next year, and the race of gorillas would probably become extinct.”
“If the sportsmen don’t come out until I write a book about them, I fear the gorillas will remain undisturbed for all time to come.”
At that time, reader, I was not aware of the extreme difficulty that travellers experience in resisting the urgent entreaties of admiring and too partial friends!
Presently we came to a part of the forest where the underwood became so dense that we could scarcely make our way through it at all, and here we began for the first time to have some clearer conception of the immense power of the creature we were in pursuit of; for in order to clear its way it had torn down great branches of the trees, and in one or two places had seized young trees as thick as a man’s arm, and snapped them in two as one would snap a walking-cane.
Following the track with the utmost care for several miles, we at length came to a place where several huge rocks lay among the trees. Here, while we were walking along in silence, Makarooroo made a peculiar noise with his tongue, which we knew meant that he had discovered something worthy of special attention, so we came to an abrupt pause and looked at him.
“What is it, Mak?” inquired Jack.
The guide put his finger on his mouth to impose silence, and stood in a listening attitude with his eyes cast upon the ground, his nostrils distended, and every muscle of his dusky frame rigid, as if he were a statue of black marble. We also listened attentively, and presently heard a sound as of the breaking of twigs and branches.
“Dat am be gorilla,” said the guide, in a low whisper.
We exchanged looks of eager satisfaction.
“How shall we proceed, Mak?” inquired Jack.
“We mus’ go bery slow, dis way,” said the guide, imitating the process of walking with extreme caution. “No break leetle stick. If you break leetle stick hims go right away.”
Promising Mak that we would attend to his injunctions most carefully, we desired him to lead the way, and in a few minutes after came so near to where the sound of breaking sticks was going on that we all halted, fearing that we should scare the animal away before we could get a sight of it amongst the dense underwood.
“What can he be doing?” said I to the guide, as we stood looking at each other for a few seconds uncertain how to act.
“Him’s breakin’ down branches for git at him’s feed, s’pose.”
“Do you see that?” whispered Peterkin, as he pointed to an open space among the bushes. “Isn’t that a bit o’ the hairy brute?”
“It looks like it,” replied Jack eagerly.
“Cluck!” ejaculated Makarooroo, making a peculiar noise with his tongue. “Dat him. Blaze away!”
“But it may not be a mortal part,” objected Peterkin. “He might escape if only wounded.”
“Nebber fear. Hims come at us if hims be wound. Only we mus’ be ready for him.”
“All ready,” said Jack, cocking both barrels of his rifle.—“Now, Peterkin, a good aim. If he comes here he shall get a quietus.”
All this was said in the lowest possible whispers. Peterkin took a steady aim at the part of the creature that was visible, and fired.
I have gone through many wild adventures since then. I have heard the roar of the lion and the tiger in all circumstances, and the laugh of the hyena, besides many other hideous sounds, but I never in all my life listened to anything that in any degree approached in thundering ferocity the appalling roar that burst upon our ears immediately after that shot was fired. I can compare it to nothing, for nothing I ever heard was like it. If the reader can conceive a human fiend endued with a voice far louder than that of the lion, yet retaining a little of the intonation both of the man’s voice and of what we should suppose a fiend’s voice to be, he may form some slight idea of what that roar was. It is impossible to describe it. Perhaps Mak’s expression in regard to it is the most emphatic and truthful: it was absolutely “horriboble!” Every one has heard a sturdy, well-grown little boy, when being thrashed, howling at the very top of his bent. If one can conceive of a full-grown male giant twenty feet high pouring forth his whole soul and voice with similarly unrestrained fervour, he may approximate to a notion of it.
And it was not uttered once or twice, but again and again, until the whole woods trembled with it, and we felt as if our ears could not endure more of it without the tympanums being burst.
For several moments we stood motionless with our guns ready, expecting an immediate attack, and gazing with awe, not unmingled—at least on my part—with fear, at the turmoil of leaves and twigs and broken branches that was going on round the spot where the monster had been wounded.
“Come,” cried Jack at length, losing patience and springing forward; “if he won’t attack us we must attack him.”
We followed close on his heels, and next moment emerged upon a small and comparatively open space, in the midst of which we found the gorilla seated on the ground, tearing up the earth with its hands, grinning horribly and beating its chest, which sent forth a loud hollow sound as if it were a large drum. We saw at once that both its thighs had been broken by Peterkin’s shot.
Of all the hideous creatures I had ever seen or heard of, none came up in the least degree to this. Apart altogether from its gigantic size, this monster was calculated to strike terror into the hearts of beholders simply by the expression of its visage, which was quite satanic. I could scarcely persuade myself that I was awake. It seemed as if I were gazing on one of those hideous creatures one beholds when oppressed with nightmare.
But we had little time to indulge in contemplation, for the instant the brute beheld us it renewed its terrible roar, and attempted to spring up; but both its legs at once gave way, and it fell with a passionate growl, biting the earth, and twisting and tearing bunches of twigs and leaves in its fury. Suddenly it rushed upon us rapidly by means of its fore legs or arms.
“Look out, Jack!” we cried in alarm.
Jack stood like a rock and deliberately levelled his rifle. Even at this moment of intense excitement I could not help marvelling at the diminutive appearance of my friend when contrasted with the gorilla. In height, indeed, he was of course superior, and would have been so had the gorilla been able to stand erect, but his breadth of shoulder and chest, and his length and size of arm, were strikingly inferior. Just as the monster approached to within three yards of him, Jack sent a ball into its chest, and the king of the African woods fell dead at our feet!
It is impossible to convey in words an idea of the gush of mingled feelings that filled our breasts as we stood beside and gazed at the huge carcass of our victim. Pity at first predominated in my heart, then I felt like an accomplice to a murder, and then an exulting sensation of joy at having obtained a specimen of one of the rarest animals in the world overwhelmed every other feeling.
The size of this animal—and we measured him very carefully—was as follows:—
Height, 5 feet 6 inches; girth of the chest, 4 feet 2 inches; spread of its arms, 7 feet 2 inches. Perhaps the most extraordinary measurement was that of the great thumb of its hind foot, which was 5 and a half inches in circumference. When I looked at this and at the great bunches of hard muscles which composed its brawny chest and arms, I could almost believe in the stories told by the natives of the tremendous feats of strength performed by the gorilla. The body of this brute was covered with grey hair, but the chest was bare and covered with tough skin, and its face was intensely black. I shuddered as I looked upon it, for there was something terribly human-like about it, despite the brutishness of its aspect.
“Now, I’ll tell you what we shall do,” said Jack, after we had completed our examination of the gorilla. “We will encamp where we are for the night, and send Makarooroo back to bring our fellows up with the packs, so that you, Ralph, will be able to begin the work of skinning and cleaning the bones at once. What say you?”
“Agreed, with all my heart,” I replied.
“Well, then,” observed Peterkin, “here goes for a fire, to begin with, and then for victuals to continue with. By the way, what say you to a gorilla steak? I’m told the niggers eat him.—Don’t they, Mak?”
“Yis, massa, dey does. More dan dat, de niggers in dis part ob country eat mans.”
“Eat mans!” echoed Peterkin in horror.
“Yis, eat mans, and womins, an’ childerdens.”
“Oh, the brutes! But I don’t believe you, Mak. What are the villains called?”
“Well, it not be easy for say what dem be called. Miss’naries calls dem canibobbles.”
“Ho!” shouted Peterkin, “canibobbles? eh! well done. Mak, I must get you to write a new dictionary; I think it would pay!”
“It won’t pay to go on talking like this, though,” observed Jack. “Come, hand me the axe. I’ll fell this tree while you strike a light, Peterkin.—Be off with you, Mak.—As for Ralph, we must leave him to his note-book; I see there is no chance of getting him away from his beloved gorilla till he has torn its skin from its flesh, and its flesh from its bones.”
Jack was right. I had now several long hours’ work before me, which I knew could not be delayed, and to which I applied myself forthwith most eagerly, while my comrades lit the fire and prepared the camp, and Makarooroo set off on his return journey to bring up the remainder of our party.
That night, while I sat by the light of the camp-fire toiling at my task, long after the others had retired to rest, I observed the features of Jack and Peterkin working convulsively, and their hands clutching nervously as they slept, and I smiled to think of the battles with gorillas which I felt assured they must be fighting, and the enormous “bags” they would be certain to tell of on returning from the realms of dreamland to the regions of reality.
Chapter Twelve.Peterkin’s Schoolday Reminiscences.The day following that on which we shot our first gorilla was a great and memorable day in our hunting career in Africa, for on that day we saw no fewer than ten gorillas: two females, seven young ones—one of which was a mere baby gorilla in its mother’s arms—and a huge lone male, or bachelor gorilla, as Peterkin called him. And of these we killed four—three young ones, and the old bachelor. I am happy to add that I saved the lives of the infant gorilla and its mother, as I shall presently relate.The portion of country through which we travelled this day was not so thickly wooded as that through which we had passed the day before, so that we advanced more easily, and enjoyed ourselves much as we went along. About the middle of the day we came to a spot where there were a number of wild vines, the leaves of which are much liked by the gorilla, so we kept a sharp lookout for tracks.Soon we came upon several, as well as broken branches and twigs, in which were observed the marks of teeth, showing that our game had been there. But we passed from the wood where these signs were discovered, out upon an open plain of considerable extent. Here we paused, undecided as to whether we should proceed onward or remain there to hunt.“I vote for advancing,” said Peterkin, “for I observe that on the other side of this plain the wood seems very dense, and it is probable that we may find Mister Gorilla there.—What think you, Mak?”The guide nodded in reply.“I move,” said Jack, “that as the country just where we stand is well watered by this little brook, besides being picturesque and beautiful to look upon, we should encamp where we are, and leaving our men to guard the camp, cross this plain—we three take Mak along with us, and spend the remainder of the day in hunting.”“I vote for the amendment,” said I.“Then the amendment carries,” cried Jack, “for in all civilised societies most votes always carry; and although we happen to be in an uncivilised region of the earth, we must not forget that we are civilised hunters. The vote of two hunters ought certainly to override that of one hunter.”Peterkin demurred to this at once, on the ground that it was unfair.“How so?” said I.“In the first place,” replied he, looking uncommonly wise, and placing the point of his right finger in the palm of his left hand—“in the first place, I do not admit your premises, and therefore I object to your conclusion. I do not admit that in civilised societies most votes carry; on the contrary, it too frequently happens that, in civilised societies, motions are made, seconded, discussed, and carried without being put to the vote at all; often they are carried without being made, seconded, or discussed—as when a bottle-nosed old gentleman in office chooses to ignore the rights of men, and carry everything his own way. Neither do I admit that we three are civilised hunters; for although it is true that I am, it is well-known that you, Ralph, are a philosopher, and Jack is a gorilla. Therefore I object to your conclusion that your two votes should carry; for you cannot but admit that the vote of one hunter ought to override that of two such creatures, which would not be the case were there an equality existing between us.”“Peterkin,” said I, “there is fallacy in your reasoning.”“Can you show it?” said he.“No; the web is too much ravelled to disentangle.”“Not at all,” cried Jack; “I can unravel it in a minute, and settle the whole question by proving that there does exist an equality between us; for it is well-known, and generally admitted by all his friends, and must be acknowledged by himself, that Peterkin is an ass.”“Even admitting that,” rejoined Peterkin, “it still remains to be proved that a philosopher, a gorilla, and an ass are equal. Of course I believe the latter to be superior to both the former animals; but in consideration of the lateness of the hour, and the able manner in which you have discussed this subject, I beg to withdraw my motion, and to state that I am ready to accompany you over the plain as soon as you please.”At this point our conversation was interrupted by the shriek of a small monkey, which had been sitting all the time among the branches of the tree beneath which we stood.“I declare it has been listening to us,” cried Peterkin.“Yes, and is shouting in triumph at your defeat,” added Jack.As he spoke, Makarooroo fired, and the monkey fell to the ground almost at our feet.“Alas! it has paid a heavy price for its laugh,” said Peterkin, in a tone of sadness.The poor thing was mortally wounded; so much so that it could not even cry. It looked up with a very piteous expression in our faces. Placing its hand on its side, it coughed once or twice, then lying down on its back and stretching itself out quite straight, it closed its eyes and died.I never could bear to shoot monkeys. There was something so terribly human-like in their sufferings, that I never could witness the death of one without feeling an almost irresistible inclination to weep. Sometimes, when short of provisions, I was compelled to shoot monkeys, but I did so as seldom as possible, and once I resolved to go supperless to bed rather than shoot one whose aspect was so sad and gentle that I had not the heart to kill it. My companions felt as I did in this matter, and we endeavoured to restrain Makarooroo as much as possible; but he could not understand our feelings, and when he got a chance of a shot, almost invariably forgot our injunctions to let monkeys alone unless we were absolutely ill off for food. To do him justice, however, I must add that we were at this particular time not overburdened with provisions, and the men were much pleased to have the prospect of a roast monkey for supper.Having given our men a little tobacco, a gift which caused their black faces to beam with delight, we shouldered our rifles and set off across the plain towards the thick wood, which was not more than five miles distant, if so much.It was a beautiful scene, this plain with its clumps of trees scattered over it like islands in a lake, and its profusion of wild flowers. The weather, too, was delightful—cooler than usual—and there was a freshness in the air which caused us to feel light of heart, while the comparative shortness of the grass enabled us to proceed on our way with light steps. As we walked along for some time in silence, I thought upon the goodness and the provident care of the Creator of our world; for during my brief sojourn in Africa I had observed many instances of the wonderful exactness with which things in nature were suited to the circumstances in which they were placed, and the bountiful provision that was made everywhere for man and beast. Yet I must confess I could not help wondering, and felt very much perplexed, when I thought of the beautiful scenes in the midst of which I moved being inhabited only by savage men, who seemed scarcely to appreciate the blessings by which they were surrounded, and who violated constantly all the laws of Him by whom they were created. My meditations were interrupted by Jack saying—“I cannot help wondering why that poor monkey kept so still all the time we were talking. One would think that it should have been frightened away just as we came under the tree.”“I have no doubt,” said I, “that although of course it could not understand what we said, yet it was listening to us.”“I’m not so certain that it did not understand,” observed Peterkin. “You know that sailors believe that monkeys could speak if they chose, but they don’t for fear that they should be made to work!”“Well, whatever truth there may be in that, of this I am certain, they are the most deceptive creatures that exist.”“I don’t agree with you,” rejoined Peterkin. “It’s my opinion that little boys are the greatest deceivers living.”“What!alllittle boys!” exclaimed Jack.“No, not all. I have not so bad an opinion of the race as that. I’ve had a good deal to do with boys during my naval career, and among the middies of her Majesty’s navy I have met with as fine little chaps as one would wish to see—regular bricks, afraid of nothing (except of doing anything that would be thought sneaking or shabby), ready to dare anything—to attack a seventy-four single-handed in a punt or a bumboat if need be; nevertheless, I’ve met boys, and a good many of them too, who would beat all the monkeys in Africa at sneaking and deceiving. I remember one rascal, who went to the same school with me, who was a wonderfully plausible deceiver. I can’t help laughing yet when I think of the curious way he took to free himself of the restraint of school.”“How was it?” cried Jack; “tell us about it—do.”“Well, you must know,” began Peterkin, “that this boy was what Jack tars would call a ‘great, stupid, lubberly fellow.’ He was a very fair-haired, white eyelashed sort of chap, that seemed to grow at such a rate that he was always too big for his clothes, and showed an unusual amount of wrist and ankle even for a boy. Most people who met him thought him a very stupid boy at first; but those who came to know him well found that he was rather a sharp, clever fellow, but a remarkably shy dog. We called him Doddle.“His mother was a widow, and he was an only son, and had been spoiled, of course, so that he was not put to school till he was nearly twelve years of age. He had been at several schools before coming to ours, but had been deemed by each successive schoolmaster a hopeless imbecile. And he was so mischievous that they advised his poor mother to take him away and try if she could not instil a little knowledge into him herself. The old lady was a meek, simple body, and quite as stupid as her hopeful son appeared to be. Hearing that our master was a sharp fellow, and somewhat noted as a good manager of obstreperous boys, she brought him to our school as a last resource, and having introduced him to the master, went her way.“It was near the end of play-hour when she brought him, so he was turned out into the playground, and stood there looking like a mongrel cur turned unexpectedly into a kennel of pointers.“‘Well, Doddle,’ said one of the sixth-form boys, going up to him and addressing him for the first time by the name which stuck to him ever after, ‘where didyougrow; and who cut you down and tossed you in here?’“‘Eh?’ said Doddle, looking sheepish.“‘What’s your name, man, and where did you come from, and how old are you, and how far can you jump without a race? and in fact I want to know all about you.’“‘My name’s Tommy Thompson,’ replied the boy, ‘and I—’“At that moment the bell rang, and the remainder of his sentence was drowned in the rush of the rest of us to the classroom.“When all was quiet the master called Doddle up, and said, ‘Well, Thompson, my boy, your mother tells me you have learned a little grammar and a little arithmetic. I hope that we shall instil into you a good deal of those branches of learning, and of many others besides, ere long. Let me hear what you can do.’“‘I can play hockey and dumps,’ began Doddle, in a sing-song tone, and with the most uncommonly innocent expression of visage; ‘an’ I can—’“‘Stay, boy,’ interrupted the master, smiling; ‘I do not want to know what you canplayat. Keep silence until I put a few questions to you. What is English grammar?’“‘Eh?’“‘Don’t say “Eh!” When you fail to understand me, say “Sir?” interrogatively. What is English grammar?’“‘It’s a book.’“The master looked over the top of his spectacles at Doddle in surprise.“‘English grammar,’ said he, slowly, and with a slight touch of sternness, ‘is indeed contained in a book; but I wish to know what it teaches.’“‘Eh?—a—I mean sir interrogatively.’“‘What does English grammarteach, boy?’ cried the master angrily.“Doddle laid hold of his chin with his right hand, and looked down at the floor with an air of profound thought, saying slowly, in an undertone to himself, ‘What—does—English—grammar—teach—teach—grammar—teach? It—teaches—a—I don’t knowwhatit teaches. Perhaps you can tell me, sir?’“He looked up, and uttered the last sentence with such an air of blank humility that we all had to cram our pocket handkerchiefs into our mouths to prevent a universal explosion. The master looked over his spectacles again at Doddle with an expression of unutterable amazement. We looked on with breathless interest, not unmingled with awe, for we expected some awful outbreak on the part of the master, who seemed quite unable to make up his mind what to do or say, but continued to stare for nearly a minute at the boy, who replied to the stare with a humble, idiotic smile.“Suddenly the master said sharply, ‘How much are seven times nine?’“‘Five hundred and forty-two and a half,’ answered Doddle, without a moment’s hesitation.“The master did not look surprised this time, but he took Doddle by the shoulder, and drawing him towards his chair, looked earnestly into his face. Then he said quietly, ‘That will do, Thompson; go to your seat.’“This was all that occurred at that time. During a whole week the master tried by every means to get Doddle to learn something; but Doddle could learn nothing. Yet he seemed to try. He pored over his book, and muttered with his lips, and sometimes looked anxiously up at the ceiling, with an expression of agony on his face that seemed to indicate a tremendous mental effort. Every species of inducement was tried, and occasionally punishment was resorted to. He was kept in at play-hours, and put in a corner during school-hours; and once, the master having lost patience with him, he was flogged. But it was all one to Doddle. All the methods tried proved utterly unavailing. He could not be got to acquire a single lesson, and often gave such remarkable answers that we all believed him to be mad.“On the Monday forenoon of his second week at the school, the master called him up again for examination.“‘Now, Thompson,’ he began, ‘you have been a long time over that lesson; let us see how much of it you have learned. What is etymology?’“‘Etymology,’ answered Doddle, ‘is—is—an irregular pronoun.’“‘Boy!’ cried the master sternly.“‘Please, sir,’ pleaded Doddle, with deprecatory air, ‘I—I suppose I was thinkin’ o’ one o’ theothermologies, not the etty one.’“‘Ha!’ ejaculated the master; ‘well, tell me, how many parts of speech are there?’“‘Nineteen,’ answered the boy, quite confidently.“‘Oh!’ exclaimed the master, with a good deal of sarcasm in his tone; ‘pray, name them.’“In a very sing-song voice, and with an air of anxious simplicity, Doddle began, ‘Article, noun, adjective, pronoun, verb, adverb, preposition, conjunction, interjection, outerjection, beginning withiesin the plural—as, baby, babies; lady, ladies; hady, hadies. Please, sir, isn’t that last one abadword?’“‘The boy is a lunatic!’ muttered the master.“The boys in the class were far past laughing now; we were absolutely stunned. The master seemed perplexed, for Doddle was gazing at him with a look of mild self-satisfaction.“‘I say, Peterkin,’ whispered the boy next to me, ‘as sure as you’re alive that boy’s shamming stupid.’“Presently the master, who had been turning over the leaves of the grammar in a way that showed he was not conscious of what he was about, looked up, and said abruptly, ‘What is a proper noun?’“‘A well-behaved one,’ replied Doddle.“At this the whole school tittered violently.“‘Silence, boys,’ cried the master, in a tone that produced the desired effect so thoroughly that you might have heard a pin drop. Then laying his hand on Doddle’s shoulder, he looked him full in the face, and said solemnly, ‘Thompson,I have found you out. Go, sir, to your seat, and remain behind when the other boys go to the playground.’“We observed that Doddle grew very red in the face as he came back to his seat, and during the rest of the hour he never once looked up.“During the whole of the play-hour the master and he remained shut up together in the schoolroom. We never discovered what took place there between them, for neither threats nor coaxing could induce Doddle afterwards to speak on the subject; but from that day forward he was a changed boy. He not only learned his lessons, but he learned them well, and in the course of time became one of the best scholars in the school; so that although he never would admit it, we all came to the conclusion he had been shamming stupid—attempting to deceive the master into the belief that he was incurable, and thus manage to get rid of lessons and school altogether.”“A most remarkable boy,” observed Jack when Peterkin concluded. “Certainly he beat the monkeys hollow.”“I wonder,” said I, “what the master said or did to him that wrought such a mighty change.”“Don’t know,” replied Peterkin; “I suppose he told him that now he had found him out, he would flay him alive if he didn’t give in, or something of that sort.”We had now entered the dark forest that edged the plain over which we had been walking, and further conversation on this subject was stopped, and the subject itself banished utterly from our minds by the loud, startling cry of a gorilla at no great distance from us.“Hist! that’s him,” whispered Peterkin.Instantly throwing our rifles into a position of readiness we pushed rapidly through the underwood in the direction whence the cry had come.
The day following that on which we shot our first gorilla was a great and memorable day in our hunting career in Africa, for on that day we saw no fewer than ten gorillas: two females, seven young ones—one of which was a mere baby gorilla in its mother’s arms—and a huge lone male, or bachelor gorilla, as Peterkin called him. And of these we killed four—three young ones, and the old bachelor. I am happy to add that I saved the lives of the infant gorilla and its mother, as I shall presently relate.
The portion of country through which we travelled this day was not so thickly wooded as that through which we had passed the day before, so that we advanced more easily, and enjoyed ourselves much as we went along. About the middle of the day we came to a spot where there were a number of wild vines, the leaves of which are much liked by the gorilla, so we kept a sharp lookout for tracks.
Soon we came upon several, as well as broken branches and twigs, in which were observed the marks of teeth, showing that our game had been there. But we passed from the wood where these signs were discovered, out upon an open plain of considerable extent. Here we paused, undecided as to whether we should proceed onward or remain there to hunt.
“I vote for advancing,” said Peterkin, “for I observe that on the other side of this plain the wood seems very dense, and it is probable that we may find Mister Gorilla there.—What think you, Mak?”
The guide nodded in reply.
“I move,” said Jack, “that as the country just where we stand is well watered by this little brook, besides being picturesque and beautiful to look upon, we should encamp where we are, and leaving our men to guard the camp, cross this plain—we three take Mak along with us, and spend the remainder of the day in hunting.”
“I vote for the amendment,” said I.
“Then the amendment carries,” cried Jack, “for in all civilised societies most votes always carry; and although we happen to be in an uncivilised region of the earth, we must not forget that we are civilised hunters. The vote of two hunters ought certainly to override that of one hunter.”
Peterkin demurred to this at once, on the ground that it was unfair.
“How so?” said I.
“In the first place,” replied he, looking uncommonly wise, and placing the point of his right finger in the palm of his left hand—“in the first place, I do not admit your premises, and therefore I object to your conclusion. I do not admit that in civilised societies most votes carry; on the contrary, it too frequently happens that, in civilised societies, motions are made, seconded, discussed, and carried without being put to the vote at all; often they are carried without being made, seconded, or discussed—as when a bottle-nosed old gentleman in office chooses to ignore the rights of men, and carry everything his own way. Neither do I admit that we three are civilised hunters; for although it is true that I am, it is well-known that you, Ralph, are a philosopher, and Jack is a gorilla. Therefore I object to your conclusion that your two votes should carry; for you cannot but admit that the vote of one hunter ought to override that of two such creatures, which would not be the case were there an equality existing between us.”
“Peterkin,” said I, “there is fallacy in your reasoning.”
“Can you show it?” said he.
“No; the web is too much ravelled to disentangle.”
“Not at all,” cried Jack; “I can unravel it in a minute, and settle the whole question by proving that there does exist an equality between us; for it is well-known, and generally admitted by all his friends, and must be acknowledged by himself, that Peterkin is an ass.”
“Even admitting that,” rejoined Peterkin, “it still remains to be proved that a philosopher, a gorilla, and an ass are equal. Of course I believe the latter to be superior to both the former animals; but in consideration of the lateness of the hour, and the able manner in which you have discussed this subject, I beg to withdraw my motion, and to state that I am ready to accompany you over the plain as soon as you please.”
At this point our conversation was interrupted by the shriek of a small monkey, which had been sitting all the time among the branches of the tree beneath which we stood.
“I declare it has been listening to us,” cried Peterkin.
“Yes, and is shouting in triumph at your defeat,” added Jack.
As he spoke, Makarooroo fired, and the monkey fell to the ground almost at our feet.
“Alas! it has paid a heavy price for its laugh,” said Peterkin, in a tone of sadness.
The poor thing was mortally wounded; so much so that it could not even cry. It looked up with a very piteous expression in our faces. Placing its hand on its side, it coughed once or twice, then lying down on its back and stretching itself out quite straight, it closed its eyes and died.
I never could bear to shoot monkeys. There was something so terribly human-like in their sufferings, that I never could witness the death of one without feeling an almost irresistible inclination to weep. Sometimes, when short of provisions, I was compelled to shoot monkeys, but I did so as seldom as possible, and once I resolved to go supperless to bed rather than shoot one whose aspect was so sad and gentle that I had not the heart to kill it. My companions felt as I did in this matter, and we endeavoured to restrain Makarooroo as much as possible; but he could not understand our feelings, and when he got a chance of a shot, almost invariably forgot our injunctions to let monkeys alone unless we were absolutely ill off for food. To do him justice, however, I must add that we were at this particular time not overburdened with provisions, and the men were much pleased to have the prospect of a roast monkey for supper.
Having given our men a little tobacco, a gift which caused their black faces to beam with delight, we shouldered our rifles and set off across the plain towards the thick wood, which was not more than five miles distant, if so much.
It was a beautiful scene, this plain with its clumps of trees scattered over it like islands in a lake, and its profusion of wild flowers. The weather, too, was delightful—cooler than usual—and there was a freshness in the air which caused us to feel light of heart, while the comparative shortness of the grass enabled us to proceed on our way with light steps. As we walked along for some time in silence, I thought upon the goodness and the provident care of the Creator of our world; for during my brief sojourn in Africa I had observed many instances of the wonderful exactness with which things in nature were suited to the circumstances in which they were placed, and the bountiful provision that was made everywhere for man and beast. Yet I must confess I could not help wondering, and felt very much perplexed, when I thought of the beautiful scenes in the midst of which I moved being inhabited only by savage men, who seemed scarcely to appreciate the blessings by which they were surrounded, and who violated constantly all the laws of Him by whom they were created. My meditations were interrupted by Jack saying—
“I cannot help wondering why that poor monkey kept so still all the time we were talking. One would think that it should have been frightened away just as we came under the tree.”
“I have no doubt,” said I, “that although of course it could not understand what we said, yet it was listening to us.”
“I’m not so certain that it did not understand,” observed Peterkin. “You know that sailors believe that monkeys could speak if they chose, but they don’t for fear that they should be made to work!”
“Well, whatever truth there may be in that, of this I am certain, they are the most deceptive creatures that exist.”
“I don’t agree with you,” rejoined Peterkin. “It’s my opinion that little boys are the greatest deceivers living.”
“What!alllittle boys!” exclaimed Jack.
“No, not all. I have not so bad an opinion of the race as that. I’ve had a good deal to do with boys during my naval career, and among the middies of her Majesty’s navy I have met with as fine little chaps as one would wish to see—regular bricks, afraid of nothing (except of doing anything that would be thought sneaking or shabby), ready to dare anything—to attack a seventy-four single-handed in a punt or a bumboat if need be; nevertheless, I’ve met boys, and a good many of them too, who would beat all the monkeys in Africa at sneaking and deceiving. I remember one rascal, who went to the same school with me, who was a wonderfully plausible deceiver. I can’t help laughing yet when I think of the curious way he took to free himself of the restraint of school.”
“How was it?” cried Jack; “tell us about it—do.”
“Well, you must know,” began Peterkin, “that this boy was what Jack tars would call a ‘great, stupid, lubberly fellow.’ He was a very fair-haired, white eyelashed sort of chap, that seemed to grow at such a rate that he was always too big for his clothes, and showed an unusual amount of wrist and ankle even for a boy. Most people who met him thought him a very stupid boy at first; but those who came to know him well found that he was rather a sharp, clever fellow, but a remarkably shy dog. We called him Doddle.
“His mother was a widow, and he was an only son, and had been spoiled, of course, so that he was not put to school till he was nearly twelve years of age. He had been at several schools before coming to ours, but had been deemed by each successive schoolmaster a hopeless imbecile. And he was so mischievous that they advised his poor mother to take him away and try if she could not instil a little knowledge into him herself. The old lady was a meek, simple body, and quite as stupid as her hopeful son appeared to be. Hearing that our master was a sharp fellow, and somewhat noted as a good manager of obstreperous boys, she brought him to our school as a last resource, and having introduced him to the master, went her way.
“It was near the end of play-hour when she brought him, so he was turned out into the playground, and stood there looking like a mongrel cur turned unexpectedly into a kennel of pointers.
“‘Well, Doddle,’ said one of the sixth-form boys, going up to him and addressing him for the first time by the name which stuck to him ever after, ‘where didyougrow; and who cut you down and tossed you in here?’
“‘Eh?’ said Doddle, looking sheepish.
“‘What’s your name, man, and where did you come from, and how old are you, and how far can you jump without a race? and in fact I want to know all about you.’
“‘My name’s Tommy Thompson,’ replied the boy, ‘and I—’
“At that moment the bell rang, and the remainder of his sentence was drowned in the rush of the rest of us to the classroom.
“When all was quiet the master called Doddle up, and said, ‘Well, Thompson, my boy, your mother tells me you have learned a little grammar and a little arithmetic. I hope that we shall instil into you a good deal of those branches of learning, and of many others besides, ere long. Let me hear what you can do.’
“‘I can play hockey and dumps,’ began Doddle, in a sing-song tone, and with the most uncommonly innocent expression of visage; ‘an’ I can—’
“‘Stay, boy,’ interrupted the master, smiling; ‘I do not want to know what you canplayat. Keep silence until I put a few questions to you. What is English grammar?’
“‘Eh?’
“‘Don’t say “Eh!” When you fail to understand me, say “Sir?” interrogatively. What is English grammar?’
“‘It’s a book.’
“The master looked over the top of his spectacles at Doddle in surprise.
“‘English grammar,’ said he, slowly, and with a slight touch of sternness, ‘is indeed contained in a book; but I wish to know what it teaches.’
“‘Eh?—a—I mean sir interrogatively.’
“‘What does English grammarteach, boy?’ cried the master angrily.
“Doddle laid hold of his chin with his right hand, and looked down at the floor with an air of profound thought, saying slowly, in an undertone to himself, ‘What—does—English—grammar—teach—teach—grammar—teach? It—teaches—a—I don’t knowwhatit teaches. Perhaps you can tell me, sir?’
“He looked up, and uttered the last sentence with such an air of blank humility that we all had to cram our pocket handkerchiefs into our mouths to prevent a universal explosion. The master looked over his spectacles again at Doddle with an expression of unutterable amazement. We looked on with breathless interest, not unmingled with awe, for we expected some awful outbreak on the part of the master, who seemed quite unable to make up his mind what to do or say, but continued to stare for nearly a minute at the boy, who replied to the stare with a humble, idiotic smile.
“Suddenly the master said sharply, ‘How much are seven times nine?’
“‘Five hundred and forty-two and a half,’ answered Doddle, without a moment’s hesitation.
“The master did not look surprised this time, but he took Doddle by the shoulder, and drawing him towards his chair, looked earnestly into his face. Then he said quietly, ‘That will do, Thompson; go to your seat.’
“This was all that occurred at that time. During a whole week the master tried by every means to get Doddle to learn something; but Doddle could learn nothing. Yet he seemed to try. He pored over his book, and muttered with his lips, and sometimes looked anxiously up at the ceiling, with an expression of agony on his face that seemed to indicate a tremendous mental effort. Every species of inducement was tried, and occasionally punishment was resorted to. He was kept in at play-hours, and put in a corner during school-hours; and once, the master having lost patience with him, he was flogged. But it was all one to Doddle. All the methods tried proved utterly unavailing. He could not be got to acquire a single lesson, and often gave such remarkable answers that we all believed him to be mad.
“On the Monday forenoon of his second week at the school, the master called him up again for examination.
“‘Now, Thompson,’ he began, ‘you have been a long time over that lesson; let us see how much of it you have learned. What is etymology?’
“‘Etymology,’ answered Doddle, ‘is—is—an irregular pronoun.’
“‘Boy!’ cried the master sternly.
“‘Please, sir,’ pleaded Doddle, with deprecatory air, ‘I—I suppose I was thinkin’ o’ one o’ theothermologies, not the etty one.’
“‘Ha!’ ejaculated the master; ‘well, tell me, how many parts of speech are there?’
“‘Nineteen,’ answered the boy, quite confidently.
“‘Oh!’ exclaimed the master, with a good deal of sarcasm in his tone; ‘pray, name them.’
“In a very sing-song voice, and with an air of anxious simplicity, Doddle began, ‘Article, noun, adjective, pronoun, verb, adverb, preposition, conjunction, interjection, outerjection, beginning withiesin the plural—as, baby, babies; lady, ladies; hady, hadies. Please, sir, isn’t that last one abadword?’
“‘The boy is a lunatic!’ muttered the master.
“The boys in the class were far past laughing now; we were absolutely stunned. The master seemed perplexed, for Doddle was gazing at him with a look of mild self-satisfaction.
“‘I say, Peterkin,’ whispered the boy next to me, ‘as sure as you’re alive that boy’s shamming stupid.’
“Presently the master, who had been turning over the leaves of the grammar in a way that showed he was not conscious of what he was about, looked up, and said abruptly, ‘What is a proper noun?’
“‘A well-behaved one,’ replied Doddle.
“At this the whole school tittered violently.
“‘Silence, boys,’ cried the master, in a tone that produced the desired effect so thoroughly that you might have heard a pin drop. Then laying his hand on Doddle’s shoulder, he looked him full in the face, and said solemnly, ‘Thompson,I have found you out. Go, sir, to your seat, and remain behind when the other boys go to the playground.’
“We observed that Doddle grew very red in the face as he came back to his seat, and during the rest of the hour he never once looked up.
“During the whole of the play-hour the master and he remained shut up together in the schoolroom. We never discovered what took place there between them, for neither threats nor coaxing could induce Doddle afterwards to speak on the subject; but from that day forward he was a changed boy. He not only learned his lessons, but he learned them well, and in the course of time became one of the best scholars in the school; so that although he never would admit it, we all came to the conclusion he had been shamming stupid—attempting to deceive the master into the belief that he was incurable, and thus manage to get rid of lessons and school altogether.”
“A most remarkable boy,” observed Jack when Peterkin concluded. “Certainly he beat the monkeys hollow.”
“I wonder,” said I, “what the master said or did to him that wrought such a mighty change.”
“Don’t know,” replied Peterkin; “I suppose he told him that now he had found him out, he would flay him alive if he didn’t give in, or something of that sort.”
We had now entered the dark forest that edged the plain over which we had been walking, and further conversation on this subject was stopped, and the subject itself banished utterly from our minds by the loud, startling cry of a gorilla at no great distance from us.
“Hist! that’s him,” whispered Peterkin.
Instantly throwing our rifles into a position of readiness we pushed rapidly through the underwood in the direction whence the cry had come.
Chapter Thirteen.We get into “The Thick of it”—Great Success.In a few minutes we came upon a female gorilla, which, all unconscious of our approach, was sitting at the foot of a vine, eating the leaves. There were four young ones beside her, engaged in the same occupation. In order to approach within shot of these, we had to creep on all fours through the brushwood with the greatest caution; for gorillas are sharp-sighted, and they have a remarkably acute sense of hearing, so that sometimes the breaking of a dry twig under one’s foot is sufficient to alarm them.We did not venture to speak even in whispers as we advanced; but by a sign Jack told Peterkin to take the lead. Jack himself followed. Makarooroo went next, and I brought up the rear.In all our hunting expeditions we usually maintained this arrangement, where it was necessary. Peterkin was assigned the post of honour, because he was the best shot; Jack, being next best, came second; and I came last, not because our guide was a better shot than I, but because he was apt to get excited and to act rashly, so that he required looking after. I was at all times ready to lay hold of him by the hair of his woolly head, which, as he was nearly naked, was the only part of him that one could grasp with any degree of firmness.After creeping in this manner for some distance, we got within range. Peterkin and Jack took aim and fired together. The old gorilla and one of the young ones fell instantly, and from their not struggling it was evident that they were shot quite dead. The guide and I fired immediately after, but only the one that I fired at fell. The other two ran off as fast as they could. Sometimes they ran on all fours; and I observed that while running in this fashion the hind legs passed between the arms, or, as it were, overstepped them. Occasionally, however, they rose and ran on their hind legs, in a stooping position.When they did this I was particularly struck with their grotesque yet strong resemblance to man, and I do not think that I could at that time have prevailed upon myself to fire at them. I should have felt like a murderer. In truth, my thoughts and sensations just then were anything but agreeable. Nevertheless I was so excited by the chase that I am quite certain no one, to look at me, could have guessed what was passing in my mind.We ran as rapidly as was possible in such a tangled forest, but we had no chance with the young gorillas. Peterkin at last ran himself out of breath. Stopping suddenly, he said, pantingly—“It’s—o’—no use whatever. Ho! dear me, my bellows are about exploded.”“We’ve no chance in a race with these hairy men,” responded Jack, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.—“Why did you miss, Mak?”“’Cause me no could hit, s’pose, massa.”“Very justly and modestly said,” remarked Peterkin, with an approving nod. “’Tis a pity that men are not more generally animated with your spirit, Mak. Most people, when they do wrong or make a mistake, are too apt to try to excuse themselves.”“Yes,” I added, with a laugh; “particularly when they blow the tails out of ostriches.”Peterkin shook his head, and said solemnly, “Ralph, my boy, don’t take to joking. It don’t agree with your constitution. You’ll get ill if you do; and we can’t afford to have you laid up on our hands in these out-o’-the-way regions.”“Come, now, let us back to the gorillas and secure them, lest their comrades carry them away,” said Jack, turning to retrace our steps.I was anxious to shoot as many gorillas as possible, in order that I might study the peculiarities of, and differences existing between, the different species—if there should be such—and between various individuals of the same species in all stages of development. I had made an elaborate examination of our first gorilla, and had taken copious notes in regard to it. Being desirous of doing the same as far as possible with the female and the two young ones we had just killed, I hastened back with my companions, and we fastened them securely among the branches of a conspicuous tree, intending to send out some of our men for them on our return to camp.After this we resumed our search for more, but wandered about for several hours without meeting with any, although we observed recently-made footprints in abundance. We went as nearly as possible in a direction parallel to our camp, so that although we walked far we did not increase our distance from it to any great extent.Presently Makarooroo made a peculiar “cluck” with his tongue, and we all came to an abrupt stand.“What is’t, Mak?”The negro did not speak, but pointed eagerly in front of him, while the whites of his eyes seemed to sparkle with animation, and raised his gun to shoot.We came up at the moment, and through an opening in the bushes saw what he was about to fire at. It was a female gorilla, with a baby gorilla in her arms. Fierce and hairy though she was, there was a certain air of tenderness about this mother, as she stroked and pawed her little one, that went straight to my heart, and caused me almost involuntarily to raise my arm and strike up the muzzle of Makarooroo’s gun, at the moment he pulled the trigger. The consequence of this act was that the ball passed close over their heads. The report of the piece was instantly followed by a roar of consternation, mingled with rage, from the mother, and a shriek of terror from the baby, which again was immediately followed by a burst of laughter from us, as we beheld the little baby clasp its arms tightly round its mother, while she scampered wildly away from us.Mak looked at me in amazement.“What for you be do dat, massa?”“To prevent you from committing murder, you rascal,” said I, laughing. “Have you no feelings of natural pity or tenderness, that you could coolly aim at such a loving pair as that?”The guide seemed a little put out by this remark, and went on reloading his gun without making reply. He had received enough of moral education at the mission stations to appreciate to some extent the feelings by which I was actuated; yet he had been so long accustomed and so early inured to harsh, unfeeling deeds, that the only idea that probably occurred to him on seeing this mother and her baby was, how near he could get to them in order to make sure of his aim.“Ah! Ralph,” said Jack, as we resumed our march, “you’re too tender-hearted, my boy, for a hunter in Africa. There you’ve lost a chance of getting a gorilla baby, which you have been desiring so much the last few days, and which you might have stuck in a bottle of spirits, and sent home to be held up to universal admiration in Piccadilly, who knows.”“Ay, who knows?” echoed Peterkin. “I think it more probable, however, that it would be held up to universal ridicule. Besides, you forget that we have no spirits to preserve it in, except our own, which I admit are pretty high—a good deal overproof, considering the circumstances in which we are placed, and the unheard-of trials we have to endure. I’m sure I don’t know what ever induced me to come, as a Scotch cousin of mine once said, ‘so far frae my ain fireside’ to endure trials. I do believe I’ve had more trials since I came to this outrageous land than all the criminals of the last century in England put together have had.”“Peterkin,” said I seriously, “trials are a decided benefit and blessing to mankind—”“Oh, of course,” interrupted Peterkin; “but then, as you have often retorted upon me that I am of the monkey kind, I think that I could get on pretty well without them.”“My opinion is that they are good both for man and monkey,” said Jack. “Just consider, now: it must have been a terrible trial for yon gorilla-mamma to hear a bullet pass within an inch of her head, and have her sweet little darling frightened almost out of its wits. Well, but just think of the state of satisfaction and rejoicing that she must be in now at having escaped. Had it not been for that trial she would now have been in her ordinary humdrum condition. I quite agree with Ralph that trials are really a blessing to us.”“I declare it is quite refreshing to hear that you ‘agree’ with anybody, Jack,” rejoined Peterkin, in a tone of sarcasm.—“Perhaps Mr Rover will kindly enlarge on this most interesting subject, and give us the benefit of his wisdom.—And, Mak, you lump of ebony, do you keep a sharp lookout for gorillas in the meantime.”The guide, whose appreciation of fun was very considerable, said, “Yis, massa,” grinned from ear to ear, in doing which he displayed a double row of tremendous white teeth, and pretended to be gazing earnestly among the bushes on either side in search of game, as he followed us. The moment we began to talk, however, I observed that he came close up behind, and listened with all his ears. If eager expansion indicates anything, I may add that he listened with all his eyes too!“I shall have much pleasure in obliging you, Peterkin,” said I, with a smile. “And in the first place—”“O Ralph, I entreat you,” interrupted Peterkin, “do not begin with a ‘first place.’ When men begin a discourse with that, however many intermediate places they may have to roam about in and enlarge on, they never have a place of any kind to terminate in, but go skimming along with a couple of dozen ‘lastlies,’ like a stone thrown over the surface of a pond, which, after the first two or three big and promising bounds, spends itself in an endless succession of twittering ripples, and finally sinks, somehow or nohow, into oblivion.”“Ahem! Shakespeare?” said Jack.“Not at all,” retorted Peterkin. “If anybody gave utterance to the sentiment before, it was Shelley, and he must have been on the sea-shore at the time with a crotchet, if not a crab, inside of him.—But pray go on, Ralph.”“Well, then, in thefirst place,” I repeated with emphasis, whereat Peterkin sighed, “trials, when endured in a proper spirit, improve our moral nature and strengthen our hearts; the result of which is, that we are incited to more vigorous mental, and, by consequence, physical exertion, so that our nervous system is strengthened and our muscular powers are increased.”“Very well put, indeed,” cried Peterkin. “Now, Ralph, try to forget your ‘secondly,’ omit your ‘thirdly,’ throw your ‘fourthly’ to the winds, and let your ‘first place’ be your ‘last place,’ and I’ll give you credit for being a wise and effective speaker.”I gave in to my volatile friend at that time, as I saw that he would not allow me to go on, and, to say truth, I thought that I had exhausted my subject. But, after all, Peterkin did not require to be incited either to good thoughts or good actions. With all his exuberant fun and jocularity, he was at bottom one of the most earnest and attached friends I ever possessed. I have lived to know that his superficial lightness of character overlaid as deeply earnest and sympathetic a spirit as ever existed.While we were thus conversing and wandering through the forest, we again came upon the fresh tracks of a gorilla, and from their great size we conjectured them to be those of a solitary male. It is a remarkable fact that among several of the lower animals we find specimens of that unnatural class of creatures which among men are termed old bachelors! Among the gorillas thesesolitairesare usually very large, remarkably fierce, uncommonly ugly, desperately vindictive, and peculiarly courageous; so much so that the natives hold them in special dread. It is of these wild men of the woods that their most remarkable and incredible stories are related.“I don’t think it’s a gorilla at all,” said Jack, stooping down to examine the footprints, which in that place were not very distinct; “I think an elephant or a rhinoceros must have passed this way.”“No, massa, them’s not deep ’nuff for dat. Hims be a gorilla—a bery big one, too.”“Don’t let us talk then, lest we should scare it,” whispered Peterkin. “Lead the way, Mak; and mind, when we come close enough, move your great carcass out of the way and let me to the front.”“No, no, lad,” said Jack. “Fair play. It’s my turn now.”“So be it, my boy. But get on.”The tracks led us a considerable distance deeper into the wood, where the trees became so thick that only a species of twilight penetrated through them. To add to our discomfort, the light, we knew, would soon fail us altogether, as evening was drawing on apace, so we quickened our pace to a smart run.We had not proceeded far when we were brought to a sudden standstill by one of those awfully loud and savage roars which we at once recognised as being that of a gorilla. It sounded like what we might term barking thunder, and from its intensity we were assured that our conjectures as to the creature being a solitary male gorilla were correct.“Dat him, massas!” cried our guide quickly, at the same time cocking both barrels of his rifle. “Look hout! we no hab go after him no more. Him’s come to fight us. Most always doos dot—de big ole gorilla.”We saw from the deeply earnest expression of the negro’s countenance that he felt himself now to be in a very serious position, which would demand all his nerve and coolness.Again the roar was repeated with terrible loudness and ferocity, and we heard something like the beating of a huge bass drum, mingled with the cracking of branches, as though some heavy creature were forcing its way through the underwood towards us.We were all much impressed with this beating sound, and, as is often the case when men are startled by sounds which they cannot account for, we were more filled with the dread of this incomprehensible sound than of the gorilla which we knew was approaching us. We might, indeed, have asked an explanation from Makarooroo, but we were all too much excited and anxious just then to speak.We drew together in a group.Jack, who stood a little in front of us, having claimed the first shot, was whispering something about its being a pity there was so little light, when his voice was drowned by a repetition of the roar, so appalling that we each started, feeling as though it had been uttered close to our ears. Next instant the bushes in front of us were torn aside, and the most horrible monster I ever saw, or hope to set eyes on, stood before us.He was evidently one of the largest-sized gorillas. In the gloom of the forest he appeared to us to be above six feet high. His jet-black visage was working with an expression of rage that was fearfully satanic. His eyes glared horribly. The tuft of hair on the top of his head rose and fell with the working of his low wrinkled forehead in a manner that peculiarly enhanced the ferocity of his expression. His great hairy body seemed much too large for his misshapen legs, and his enormous arms much too long for the body. It was with the fists at the ends of those muscular arms that he beat upon his bulky chest, and produced the unaccountable sounds above referred to. As he stood there uttering roar upon roar—apparently with the view of screwing up his courage to attack us—displaying his great canine teeth, and advancing slowly, step by step, I felt a mingling of powerful emotions such as I had never felt before in all my life, and such as cannot by any possibility be adequately described.I felt quite self-possessed, however, and stood beside my comrades with my rifle ready and my finger on the trigger.“Now!” whispered Peterkin. But Jack did not move.“Now!” said he again, more anxiously, as the immense brute advanced, beating its chest and roaring, to within eight yards of us. Still Jack did not move, and I observed that it was as much as Peterkin could do to restrain himself.As it took the next step, and appeared about to spring, Jack pulled the trigger. The cap alone exploded! Like a flash of light the other trigger was pulled; it also failed! some moisture must have got into the nipples in loading. Almost as quick as thought Jack hurled his piece at the brute with a force that seemed to me irresistible. The butt struck it full in the chest, but the rifle was instantly caught in its iron gripe. At that moment Peterkin fired, and the gorilla dropped like a stone, uttering a heavy groan as it fell prone with its face to the earth—not, however, before it had broken Jack’s rifle across, and twisted the barrel as if it had been merely a piece of wire!“That was a narrow escape, Jack,” said I seriously, after we had recovered from the state of agitation into which this scene had thrown us.“Indeed it was; and thanks to Peterkin’s ever-ready rifle that it was an escape at all. What a monstrous brute!”“Much bigger than the first one,” said Peterkin.—“Where is your measure, Ralph? Out with it.”I pulled out my measure, and applying it to the prostrate carcass, found that the gorilla we had now shot was five feet eight inches in height, and proportionately large round the chest. It seemed to be a mass of sinews and hard muscles, and as I gazed at its massive limbs I could well imagine that it had strength sufficient to perform many, at least, if not all of the wonderful feats ascribed to it by the natives.Shortly after the death of the gorilla, night settled down upon the scene, so we hurried back towards our camp, where we arrived much exhausted, yet greatly elated, by our successful day’s sport.I spent a great part of that night making entries in my note-book, by the light of our camp-fires, while my companions slept. And, truly, I enjoyed such quiet hours after days of so great mental and physical excitement. I observed, also, that the negroes enjoyed those seasons exceedingly. They sat round the blaze, talking and laughing, and recounting, I have no doubt, their feats of daring by flood and field; then, when they began to grow sleepy, they sat there swaying to and fro, making an occasional remark, until they became too sleepy even for that, when they began to nod and wink and start, and almost fell into the fire, so unwilling did they seem to tear themselves away from it, even for the distance of the few feet they required to draw back in order to enable them to lie down. At last nature could hold out no longer, and one by one they dropped back in their places.I, too, began to nod at last, and to make entries in my note-book which were too disjointed at last to be comprehensible; so I finally resigned myself to repose, and to dream, as a matter of course.
In a few minutes we came upon a female gorilla, which, all unconscious of our approach, was sitting at the foot of a vine, eating the leaves. There were four young ones beside her, engaged in the same occupation. In order to approach within shot of these, we had to creep on all fours through the brushwood with the greatest caution; for gorillas are sharp-sighted, and they have a remarkably acute sense of hearing, so that sometimes the breaking of a dry twig under one’s foot is sufficient to alarm them.
We did not venture to speak even in whispers as we advanced; but by a sign Jack told Peterkin to take the lead. Jack himself followed. Makarooroo went next, and I brought up the rear.
In all our hunting expeditions we usually maintained this arrangement, where it was necessary. Peterkin was assigned the post of honour, because he was the best shot; Jack, being next best, came second; and I came last, not because our guide was a better shot than I, but because he was apt to get excited and to act rashly, so that he required looking after. I was at all times ready to lay hold of him by the hair of his woolly head, which, as he was nearly naked, was the only part of him that one could grasp with any degree of firmness.
After creeping in this manner for some distance, we got within range. Peterkin and Jack took aim and fired together. The old gorilla and one of the young ones fell instantly, and from their not struggling it was evident that they were shot quite dead. The guide and I fired immediately after, but only the one that I fired at fell. The other two ran off as fast as they could. Sometimes they ran on all fours; and I observed that while running in this fashion the hind legs passed between the arms, or, as it were, overstepped them. Occasionally, however, they rose and ran on their hind legs, in a stooping position.
When they did this I was particularly struck with their grotesque yet strong resemblance to man, and I do not think that I could at that time have prevailed upon myself to fire at them. I should have felt like a murderer. In truth, my thoughts and sensations just then were anything but agreeable. Nevertheless I was so excited by the chase that I am quite certain no one, to look at me, could have guessed what was passing in my mind.
We ran as rapidly as was possible in such a tangled forest, but we had no chance with the young gorillas. Peterkin at last ran himself out of breath. Stopping suddenly, he said, pantingly—
“It’s—o’—no use whatever. Ho! dear me, my bellows are about exploded.”
“We’ve no chance in a race with these hairy men,” responded Jack, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.—“Why did you miss, Mak?”
“’Cause me no could hit, s’pose, massa.”
“Very justly and modestly said,” remarked Peterkin, with an approving nod. “’Tis a pity that men are not more generally animated with your spirit, Mak. Most people, when they do wrong or make a mistake, are too apt to try to excuse themselves.”
“Yes,” I added, with a laugh; “particularly when they blow the tails out of ostriches.”
Peterkin shook his head, and said solemnly, “Ralph, my boy, don’t take to joking. It don’t agree with your constitution. You’ll get ill if you do; and we can’t afford to have you laid up on our hands in these out-o’-the-way regions.”
“Come, now, let us back to the gorillas and secure them, lest their comrades carry them away,” said Jack, turning to retrace our steps.
I was anxious to shoot as many gorillas as possible, in order that I might study the peculiarities of, and differences existing between, the different species—if there should be such—and between various individuals of the same species in all stages of development. I had made an elaborate examination of our first gorilla, and had taken copious notes in regard to it. Being desirous of doing the same as far as possible with the female and the two young ones we had just killed, I hastened back with my companions, and we fastened them securely among the branches of a conspicuous tree, intending to send out some of our men for them on our return to camp.
After this we resumed our search for more, but wandered about for several hours without meeting with any, although we observed recently-made footprints in abundance. We went as nearly as possible in a direction parallel to our camp, so that although we walked far we did not increase our distance from it to any great extent.
Presently Makarooroo made a peculiar “cluck” with his tongue, and we all came to an abrupt stand.
“What is’t, Mak?”
The negro did not speak, but pointed eagerly in front of him, while the whites of his eyes seemed to sparkle with animation, and raised his gun to shoot.
We came up at the moment, and through an opening in the bushes saw what he was about to fire at. It was a female gorilla, with a baby gorilla in her arms. Fierce and hairy though she was, there was a certain air of tenderness about this mother, as she stroked and pawed her little one, that went straight to my heart, and caused me almost involuntarily to raise my arm and strike up the muzzle of Makarooroo’s gun, at the moment he pulled the trigger. The consequence of this act was that the ball passed close over their heads. The report of the piece was instantly followed by a roar of consternation, mingled with rage, from the mother, and a shriek of terror from the baby, which again was immediately followed by a burst of laughter from us, as we beheld the little baby clasp its arms tightly round its mother, while she scampered wildly away from us.
Mak looked at me in amazement.
“What for you be do dat, massa?”
“To prevent you from committing murder, you rascal,” said I, laughing. “Have you no feelings of natural pity or tenderness, that you could coolly aim at such a loving pair as that?”
The guide seemed a little put out by this remark, and went on reloading his gun without making reply. He had received enough of moral education at the mission stations to appreciate to some extent the feelings by which I was actuated; yet he had been so long accustomed and so early inured to harsh, unfeeling deeds, that the only idea that probably occurred to him on seeing this mother and her baby was, how near he could get to them in order to make sure of his aim.
“Ah! Ralph,” said Jack, as we resumed our march, “you’re too tender-hearted, my boy, for a hunter in Africa. There you’ve lost a chance of getting a gorilla baby, which you have been desiring so much the last few days, and which you might have stuck in a bottle of spirits, and sent home to be held up to universal admiration in Piccadilly, who knows.”
“Ay, who knows?” echoed Peterkin. “I think it more probable, however, that it would be held up to universal ridicule. Besides, you forget that we have no spirits to preserve it in, except our own, which I admit are pretty high—a good deal overproof, considering the circumstances in which we are placed, and the unheard-of trials we have to endure. I’m sure I don’t know what ever induced me to come, as a Scotch cousin of mine once said, ‘so far frae my ain fireside’ to endure trials. I do believe I’ve had more trials since I came to this outrageous land than all the criminals of the last century in England put together have had.”
“Peterkin,” said I seriously, “trials are a decided benefit and blessing to mankind—”
“Oh, of course,” interrupted Peterkin; “but then, as you have often retorted upon me that I am of the monkey kind, I think that I could get on pretty well without them.”
“My opinion is that they are good both for man and monkey,” said Jack. “Just consider, now: it must have been a terrible trial for yon gorilla-mamma to hear a bullet pass within an inch of her head, and have her sweet little darling frightened almost out of its wits. Well, but just think of the state of satisfaction and rejoicing that she must be in now at having escaped. Had it not been for that trial she would now have been in her ordinary humdrum condition. I quite agree with Ralph that trials are really a blessing to us.”
“I declare it is quite refreshing to hear that you ‘agree’ with anybody, Jack,” rejoined Peterkin, in a tone of sarcasm.—“Perhaps Mr Rover will kindly enlarge on this most interesting subject, and give us the benefit of his wisdom.—And, Mak, you lump of ebony, do you keep a sharp lookout for gorillas in the meantime.”
The guide, whose appreciation of fun was very considerable, said, “Yis, massa,” grinned from ear to ear, in doing which he displayed a double row of tremendous white teeth, and pretended to be gazing earnestly among the bushes on either side in search of game, as he followed us. The moment we began to talk, however, I observed that he came close up behind, and listened with all his ears. If eager expansion indicates anything, I may add that he listened with all his eyes too!
“I shall have much pleasure in obliging you, Peterkin,” said I, with a smile. “And in the first place—”
“O Ralph, I entreat you,” interrupted Peterkin, “do not begin with a ‘first place.’ When men begin a discourse with that, however many intermediate places they may have to roam about in and enlarge on, they never have a place of any kind to terminate in, but go skimming along with a couple of dozen ‘lastlies,’ like a stone thrown over the surface of a pond, which, after the first two or three big and promising bounds, spends itself in an endless succession of twittering ripples, and finally sinks, somehow or nohow, into oblivion.”
“Ahem! Shakespeare?” said Jack.
“Not at all,” retorted Peterkin. “If anybody gave utterance to the sentiment before, it was Shelley, and he must have been on the sea-shore at the time with a crotchet, if not a crab, inside of him.—But pray go on, Ralph.”
“Well, then, in thefirst place,” I repeated with emphasis, whereat Peterkin sighed, “trials, when endured in a proper spirit, improve our moral nature and strengthen our hearts; the result of which is, that we are incited to more vigorous mental, and, by consequence, physical exertion, so that our nervous system is strengthened and our muscular powers are increased.”
“Very well put, indeed,” cried Peterkin. “Now, Ralph, try to forget your ‘secondly,’ omit your ‘thirdly,’ throw your ‘fourthly’ to the winds, and let your ‘first place’ be your ‘last place,’ and I’ll give you credit for being a wise and effective speaker.”
I gave in to my volatile friend at that time, as I saw that he would not allow me to go on, and, to say truth, I thought that I had exhausted my subject. But, after all, Peterkin did not require to be incited either to good thoughts or good actions. With all his exuberant fun and jocularity, he was at bottom one of the most earnest and attached friends I ever possessed. I have lived to know that his superficial lightness of character overlaid as deeply earnest and sympathetic a spirit as ever existed.
While we were thus conversing and wandering through the forest, we again came upon the fresh tracks of a gorilla, and from their great size we conjectured them to be those of a solitary male. It is a remarkable fact that among several of the lower animals we find specimens of that unnatural class of creatures which among men are termed old bachelors! Among the gorillas thesesolitairesare usually very large, remarkably fierce, uncommonly ugly, desperately vindictive, and peculiarly courageous; so much so that the natives hold them in special dread. It is of these wild men of the woods that their most remarkable and incredible stories are related.
“I don’t think it’s a gorilla at all,” said Jack, stooping down to examine the footprints, which in that place were not very distinct; “I think an elephant or a rhinoceros must have passed this way.”
“No, massa, them’s not deep ’nuff for dat. Hims be a gorilla—a bery big one, too.”
“Don’t let us talk then, lest we should scare it,” whispered Peterkin. “Lead the way, Mak; and mind, when we come close enough, move your great carcass out of the way and let me to the front.”
“No, no, lad,” said Jack. “Fair play. It’s my turn now.”
“So be it, my boy. But get on.”
The tracks led us a considerable distance deeper into the wood, where the trees became so thick that only a species of twilight penetrated through them. To add to our discomfort, the light, we knew, would soon fail us altogether, as evening was drawing on apace, so we quickened our pace to a smart run.
We had not proceeded far when we were brought to a sudden standstill by one of those awfully loud and savage roars which we at once recognised as being that of a gorilla. It sounded like what we might term barking thunder, and from its intensity we were assured that our conjectures as to the creature being a solitary male gorilla were correct.
“Dat him, massas!” cried our guide quickly, at the same time cocking both barrels of his rifle. “Look hout! we no hab go after him no more. Him’s come to fight us. Most always doos dot—de big ole gorilla.”
We saw from the deeply earnest expression of the negro’s countenance that he felt himself now to be in a very serious position, which would demand all his nerve and coolness.
Again the roar was repeated with terrible loudness and ferocity, and we heard something like the beating of a huge bass drum, mingled with the cracking of branches, as though some heavy creature were forcing its way through the underwood towards us.
We were all much impressed with this beating sound, and, as is often the case when men are startled by sounds which they cannot account for, we were more filled with the dread of this incomprehensible sound than of the gorilla which we knew was approaching us. We might, indeed, have asked an explanation from Makarooroo, but we were all too much excited and anxious just then to speak.
We drew together in a group.
Jack, who stood a little in front of us, having claimed the first shot, was whispering something about its being a pity there was so little light, when his voice was drowned by a repetition of the roar, so appalling that we each started, feeling as though it had been uttered close to our ears. Next instant the bushes in front of us were torn aside, and the most horrible monster I ever saw, or hope to set eyes on, stood before us.
He was evidently one of the largest-sized gorillas. In the gloom of the forest he appeared to us to be above six feet high. His jet-black visage was working with an expression of rage that was fearfully satanic. His eyes glared horribly. The tuft of hair on the top of his head rose and fell with the working of his low wrinkled forehead in a manner that peculiarly enhanced the ferocity of his expression. His great hairy body seemed much too large for his misshapen legs, and his enormous arms much too long for the body. It was with the fists at the ends of those muscular arms that he beat upon his bulky chest, and produced the unaccountable sounds above referred to. As he stood there uttering roar upon roar—apparently with the view of screwing up his courage to attack us—displaying his great canine teeth, and advancing slowly, step by step, I felt a mingling of powerful emotions such as I had never felt before in all my life, and such as cannot by any possibility be adequately described.
I felt quite self-possessed, however, and stood beside my comrades with my rifle ready and my finger on the trigger.
“Now!” whispered Peterkin. But Jack did not move.
“Now!” said he again, more anxiously, as the immense brute advanced, beating its chest and roaring, to within eight yards of us. Still Jack did not move, and I observed that it was as much as Peterkin could do to restrain himself.
As it took the next step, and appeared about to spring, Jack pulled the trigger. The cap alone exploded! Like a flash of light the other trigger was pulled; it also failed! some moisture must have got into the nipples in loading. Almost as quick as thought Jack hurled his piece at the brute with a force that seemed to me irresistible. The butt struck it full in the chest, but the rifle was instantly caught in its iron gripe. At that moment Peterkin fired, and the gorilla dropped like a stone, uttering a heavy groan as it fell prone with its face to the earth—not, however, before it had broken Jack’s rifle across, and twisted the barrel as if it had been merely a piece of wire!
“That was a narrow escape, Jack,” said I seriously, after we had recovered from the state of agitation into which this scene had thrown us.
“Indeed it was; and thanks to Peterkin’s ever-ready rifle that it was an escape at all. What a monstrous brute!”
“Much bigger than the first one,” said Peterkin.—“Where is your measure, Ralph? Out with it.”
I pulled out my measure, and applying it to the prostrate carcass, found that the gorilla we had now shot was five feet eight inches in height, and proportionately large round the chest. It seemed to be a mass of sinews and hard muscles, and as I gazed at its massive limbs I could well imagine that it had strength sufficient to perform many, at least, if not all of the wonderful feats ascribed to it by the natives.
Shortly after the death of the gorilla, night settled down upon the scene, so we hurried back towards our camp, where we arrived much exhausted, yet greatly elated, by our successful day’s sport.
I spent a great part of that night making entries in my note-book, by the light of our camp-fires, while my companions slept. And, truly, I enjoyed such quiet hours after days of so great mental and physical excitement. I observed, also, that the negroes enjoyed those seasons exceedingly. They sat round the blaze, talking and laughing, and recounting, I have no doubt, their feats of daring by flood and field; then, when they began to grow sleepy, they sat there swaying to and fro, making an occasional remark, until they became too sleepy even for that, when they began to nod and wink and start, and almost fell into the fire, so unwilling did they seem to tear themselves away from it, even for the distance of the few feet they required to draw back in order to enable them to lie down. At last nature could hold out no longer, and one by one they dropped back in their places.
I, too, began to nod at last, and to make entries in my note-book which were too disjointed at last to be comprehensible; so I finally resigned myself to repose, and to dream, as a matter of course.