Part 8

On September 14th, our health much improved by the weather, we left the hilltop and began to descend the counterslope of the Usagara Mountains. For the first time since many days I had strength enough to muster the porters and inspect their loads. The outfit which had been expected to last a year had been half exhausted within three months. I summoned Said bin Salim, and told him my anxiety. Like a veritable Arab, he declared we had enough to last until we reached Unyamyembe, where we should certainly be joined by reinforcements of porters.

“How do you know?” I inquired.

“Allah is all-knowing,” said Said. “The caravan will come.”

As the fatalism was infectious, I ceased to think upon the subject.

The next day we sighted the plateau of Ugogo and its eastern desert. The spectacle was truly impressive. The first aspect was stern and wild――the rough nurse of rugged men. We went on the descent from day to day until September 18th, when a final march of four hours placed us on the plains of Ugogo. Before noon I sighted from a sharp turn in the bed of a river our tent pitched under a huge sycamore, on a level step. It was a pretty spot in the barren scene, grassy, and grown with green mimosas, and here we halted for a while. The second stage of our journey was accomplished.

After three days’ sojourn at Ugogo to recruit the party and lay in rations for four long desert marches, we set forth on our long march through the province of Ugogo. Our first day’s journey was over a grassy country, and we accomplished it in comparative comfort. The next day we toiled through the sunshine of the hot waste, crossing plains over paths where the slides of elephants’ feet upon the last year’s muddy clay showed that the land was not always dry. During this journey we suffered many discomforts and difficulties. The orb of day glowed like a fireball in our faces; then our path would take us through dense, thorny jungle, and over plains of black, cracked earth. Our caravan once rested in a thorny copse based upon rich red and yellow clay; once it was hurriedly dislodged by a swarm of wild bees, and the next morning I learnt that we had sustained a loss――one of our porters had deserted, and to his care had been committed one of the most valuable of our packages, a portmanteau containing “The Nautical Almanac,” surveying books, and most of our papers, pen, and ink.

At last we arrived at Ziwa, a place where caravans generally encamped, because they found water there. At Ziwa we had many troubles. One Marema, the Sultan of a new settlement, visited us on the day of our arrival, and reproved us for sitting in the jungle, pointing the way to his village. On my replying we were going to traverse Ugogo by another road, he demanded his customs, which we refused, as they were a form of blackmail. The Sultan threatened violence, whereupon the asses were brought in from grazing and ostentatiously loaded before his eyes. He then changed his tone from threats to beggary. I gave him two cloths and a few strings of beads, preferring this to the chance of a flight of arrows during the night.

When we resumed our journey, the heat was awful. The sun burnt like the breath of a bonfire, warm siroccos raised clouds of dust, and in front of us the horizon was so distant that, as the Arabs expressed themselves, a man might be seen three marches off.

October 5th saw us in the centre of Kanyenye, a clearing in the jungle of about ten miles in diameter. The surface was of a red clayey soil dotted with small villages, huge calabashes, and stunted mimosas. Here I was delayed four days to settle blackmail with Magomba, the most powerful of the Wagogo chiefs. He was of a most avaricious nature. First of all I acknowledged his compliments with two cottons. On arrival at his headquarters, I was waited on by an oily Cabinet of Elders, who would not depart without their “respects”――four cottons. The next demand was made by his favourite, a hideous old Princess with more wrinkles than hair, with no hair black and no tooth white; she was not put right without a fee of six cottons. At last, accompanied by a mob of courtiers, appeared the chief _in magnifico_. He was the only chief who ever entered my tent in Ugogo――pride and a propensity for strong drink prevented such visits. He was much too great a man to call upon Arab merchants, but in our case curiosity mastered State considerations. Magomba was an old man, black and wrinkled, drivelling and decrepid. He wore a coating of castor-oil and a loin-cloth which grease and use had changed from blue to black. He chewed his quid, and expectorated without mercy; he asked many questions, and was all eyes to the main chance. He demanded, and received, five cloths, one coil of brass wire, and four blue cottons. In return he made me a present of the leanest of calves, and when it was driven into camp with much parade, his son, to crown all, put in a claim for three cottons. Yet Magomba, before our departure, boasted of his generosity――and indeed he was generous, for everything we had was in his hands, and we were truly in his power. It was, indeed, my firm conviction from first to last in this expedition that in case of attack or surprise by natives I had not a soul except my companion to stand by me, and all those who accompanied us would have either betrayed us or fled. We literally, therefore, carried our lives in our hands.

We toiled on and on, suffering severely from the heat by day and sometimes the cold by night, and troubled much with mutinous porters and fears of desertion, until at last we reached the heart of the great desert, or elephant ground, known as Fiery Field. On October 20th we began the transit of this Fiery Field. The waste here appeared in its most horrid phase; a narrow goat-path serpentined in and out of a growth of poisonous thorny jungle, with thin, hard grass straw growing on a glaring white and rolling ground. The march was a severe trial, and we lost on it three boxes of ammunition. By-and-by we passed over the rolling ground, and plunged into a thorny jungle, which seemed interminable, but which gradually thinned out into a forest of thorns and gums, bush and underwood, which afforded a broad path and pleasanter travelling. Unfortunately, it did not last long, and we again had a very rough bit of ground to go over. Another forest to pass through, and then we came out on October 27th into a clearing studded with large stockaded villages, fields of maize and millet, gourds and watermelons, and showing numerous flocks and herds. We had arrived at Unyamwezi, and our traverse of Ugogo was over.

The people swarmed from their abodes, young and old hustling one another for a better stare; the man forsook his loom and the girl her hoe, and we were welcomed and escorted into the village by a tail of screaming boys and shouting adults, the males almost nude, the women bare to the waist, and clothed only knee-deep in kilts. Leading the way, our guide, according to the immemorial custom of Unyamwezi, entered uninvited and _sans cérémonie_ the nearest village; the long string of porters flocked in with bag and baggage, and we followed their example. We were placed under a wall-less roof, bounded on one side by the bars of the village palisade, and surrounded by a mob of starers, who relieved one another from morning to night, which made me feel like a wild beast in a menagerie.

We rested some days at Unyamwezi――the far-famed “Land of the Moon”――but I was urged to advance on the ground that the natives were a dangerous race, though they appeared to be a timid and ignoble people, dripping with castor and sesamum oil, and scantily attired in shreds of cotton or greasy goat-skins. The dangers of the road between Unyamwezi and Ujiji were declared to be great. I found afterwards that they were grossly exaggerated, but I set forth with the impression that this last stage of my journey would be the worst of all. The country over which we travelled varied very much from day to day, being sometimes opened and streaked with a thin forest of mimosas, and at other times leading us through jungly patches. Going through a thick forest, one of the porters, having imprudently lagged behind, was clubbed and cruelly bruised by three black robbers, who relieved him of his load. These highwaymen were not unusual in this part, and their raids formed one of the many dangers we had to guard against.

On November 7th, 1857, the one hundred and thirty-fourth day from the date of leaving the coast, we entered Kazeh, the principal village of Unyamwezi, much frequented by Arab merchants. I always got on well with the Arabs, and they gave me a most favourable reception. Striking indeed was the contrast between the open-handed hospitality and hearty goodwill of this truly noble race and the niggardliness of the savage and selfish Africans. Whatever I alluded to――onions, plantains, limes, vegetables, tamarinds, coffee, and other things, only to be found amongst the Arabs――were sent at once, and the very name of payment would have been an insult.

Kazeh is situated in Unyamyembe, the principal province of Unyamwezi, and is a great meeting-place of merchants and point of departure for caravans, which then radiate into the interior of Central Intertropical Africa. Here the Arab merchant from Zanzibar meets his compatriot returning from the Tanganyika and Uruwwa. Many of the Arabs settle here for years, and live comfortably, and even splendidly. Their houses, though single storied, are large, substantial, and capable of defence; their gardens are extensive and well planted. They receive regular supplies of merchandise, comforts, and luxuries from the coast; they are surrounded by troops of concubines and slaves; rich men have riding asses from Zanzibar, and even the poorest keep flocks and herds.

I was detained at Kazeh from November 8th until December 14th, and the delay was one long trial of patience.

It is customary for stranger caravans proceeding towards Ujiji to remain six weeks or two months at Unyamyembe for repose and recovery from the labours which they have endured; moreover, they are expected to enjoy the pleasures of civilised society, and to accept the hospitality offered them by the resident Arabs. In Eastern Africa, I may mention, six weeks was the same as the three days’ visit in England.

The morning after our arrival at Kazeh a great number of our porters left us, and the rest of our party apparently considered that Unyamyembe, and not Ujiji, was the end of the exploration. Several of them were mutinous when I told them they would not be rewarded for safe-conduct until we had reached the end of the up march, which was not here; and these difficulties took a long time to settle. Kazeh, indeed, proved in effect a second point of departure, easier only because I had now gained some experience. Another cause of delay was the sickness of many of our people, and it took some time for them to shake off the ague which they had contracted. Indeed, the wing of Azrael seemed waving over my own head. Nevertheless, on the morning of December 15th I started off afresh, charmed with the prospect of a fine open country, and delighted to get away from what had been to me a veritable imprisonment.

I will not describe the details of our march, which went on without a break. Christmas Day found us still marching, and so on day after day, if I except an enforced halt of twelve days at Msene. On January 10th, 1858, I left Msene, with considerable difficulty through the mutiny of porters; and so we pressed on, more or less with difficulty, until at last a formidable obstacle to progress presented itself. I had been suffering for some days; the miasmatic airs of Sorora had sown the seeds of a fresh illness. On the afternoon of January 18th, 1858, I was seized with an attack of fever, and then paralysis set in from the feet upwards, and I was completely _hors de combat_. There seemed nothing left for me but to lie down and die. One of my chief porters declared that the case was beyond his skill: it was one of partial paralysis, brought on by malaria, and he called in an Arab, who looked at me also. The Arab was more cheerful, and successfully predicted that I should be able to move in ten days. On the tenth I again mounted my ass, but the paralysis wore off very slowly, and prevented me from walking any distance for nearly a year. The sensation of numbness in my hands and feet disappeared even more slowly than that. I had, however, undertaken the journey in a “nothing like leather” frame of mind, and was determined to press on. So we pressed.

We had now left the “Land of the Moon” behind us, and entered upon a new district. The road before us lay through a howling wilderness, and the march lay along the right bank of a malarial river, and the mosquitoes feasted right royally upon our bodies, even in the daytime. A good deal of the ground was very swampy, and it then stretched over jungly and wooded hill-spires, with steep ascents and descents. Everywhere was thick, fœtid, and putrescent vegetation. The heaviness of this march caused two of our porters to levant and another four to strike work. It was, therefore, necessary for me to again mount ass ten days after an attack of paralysis. So we dragged on for the next week, throughout the early days of February, a weary toil of fighting through tiger and spear grass, over broken and slippery paths, and through thick jungle. But these difficulties were lightly borne, for we felt that we must be nearing the end of our journey.

On February 13th we resumed our travel through screens of lofty grass, which thinned out into a straggling forest. After about an hour’s march, as we entered a small savannah, I saw our Arab leader running forward and changing the direction of the caravan. Presently he breasted a steep and stony hill, sparsely clad with thorny trees. Arrived at the summit with toil, for our fagged beasts now refused to proceed, we halted for a few minutes and gazed.

“What is that streak of light which lies below?” I inquired of Seedy Bombay, one of our porters.

“I am of opinion,” quoth Seedy, “that is the water.”

I gazed in dismay. The remains of my blindness, the veil of trees, and broad ray of sunshine illuminating but one reach of the lake, had shrunk its fair proportions. Prematurely I began to curse my folly in having risked life and health for so poor a prize, and even thought of proposing an immediate return with a view of exploring the Nyanza, or Northern Lake. Advancing, however, a few yards, the whole scene suddenly burst upon my view, filling me with wonder, admiration, and delight. My longing eyes beheld the Tanganyika Lake as it lay in the lap of the mountain, basking in the gorgeous tropical sunshine. Our journey had not been in vain.

II

_THE LAKE REGIONS_

I shall never forget my first glimpse of Tanganyika. Below and beyond a short foreground of rugged and precipitous hill-fold, down which the footpath zigzagged painfully, a narrow strip of emerald green shelved towards a ribbon of glistening yellow sand, here bordered by sedgy rushes, there cleanly cut by the breaking wavelets. Further in front stretched the waters, an expanse of soft blue, in breadth varying from thirty to thirty-five miles, and sprinkled by the crisp east wind with tiny crescents of snowy foam. The background in front was a high and broken wall of steel-coloured mountain. To the south, and opposite the long, low point, lay bluff headlands, and, as the eye dilated, it fell upon a cluster of outlying islets, speckling a sea horizon. Villages, cultivated lands, the frequent canoes of the fishermen on the waters, and, as we came nearer, the murmur of the waters breaking upon the shore, gave variety and movement to the landscape. The riant shores of this vast lake appeared doubly beautiful to me after the silent and spectral mangrove creeks on the East African seaboard, and the melancholy, mononotous experience I had gone through of desert and jungle, tawny rock and sunburnt plain, or rank herbage and flats of black mire. Truly it was a feast of soul and sight. Forgetting toils, dangers, and the doubtfulness of return, I felt willing to endure double what I had endured. I had sighted the fabled lake, and all the party seemed to join with me in joy. Even my purblind companion found nothing to grumble at except the “mist and glare before his eyes.”

Arrived at Ukaranga I was disappointed to find there a few miserable grass huts that clustered around a single “tembe,” or inn, then occupied by its proprietor, an Arab trader. I found that that part of Ukaranga contained not a single native canoe, and there seemed no possibility of getting one, the innkeeper being determined that I should spend beads for rations and lodgings among him and his companions, and be heavily mulcted for a boat into the bargain. The latter manœuvre was frustrated by my securing a solid-built Arab craft for the morrow, capable of containing from thirty to thirty-five men. It belonged to an absent merchant, and in point of size it was second on Tanganyika, and, being too large for paddling, the crew rowed, instead of scooping up the water like the natives. I paid an exorbitant price for the hire of this boat.

Early in the morning of the following day, February 14th, we began coasting along the eastern shore of the lake in a north-westerly direction, towards the Kawele district, in the land of Ujiji. The view was exceedingly beautiful, and the picturesque and varied forms of the mountains, rising above and dipping into the lake, were clad in purplish blue, set off by the rosy tints of the morning. As we approached our destination, I wondered at the absence of houses and people. By the Arabs I had been taught to expect a town, a port, and a bazaar excelling in size that of Zanzibar, instead of which I found a few scattered hovels, and our craft was poled up through a hole in a thick welting of coarse grass to a level landing-place of flat shingle. Such was the disembarkation quay of the great Ujiji.

We stepped ashore. Around the landing-place a few scattered huts represented the port-town. Advancing some hundred yards through a din of shouts and screams, tom-toms and trumpets, which defies description, and mobbed by a swarm of black beings whose eyes seemed about to start from their heads with surprise, I passed a relic of Arab civilisation, the bazaar. It was on a plot of higher ground, and there, between 10 a.m. and 3 p.m., weather permitting, a mass of standing and squatting negroes buy and sell, barter and exchange, offer and chaffer, with a hubbub heard for miles. The articles exposed for sale were sometimes goats and sheep and poultry, generally fish, vegetables, and a few fruits, and palm wine was a staple commodity. Occasionally an ivory or a slave was hawked about. Such was the little village of Kawele. The Tanganyika is ever seen to advantage from its shores, and here I found a lodging in a ruinous tembe inn, built by an Arab merchant, where I was lodged in comparative comfort, though the tembe was tenanted only by ticks and slaves.

As the tembe was to be my home for a space, my first care was to purify the floor by pastilles of asafœtida and fumigations of gunpowder; the second to prepare the roof for the rainy season. Improvement, however, was slow, for the natives were too lazy to work, and the porters took the earliest opportunity of deserting. I, however, managed to provide a pair of cartels, with substitutes for chairs and tables. Benches of clay were built round the rooms, but they proved useless, being found regularly every morning occupied in force by a swarming, struggling colony of white ants. The roof, long overgrown with tall grass, was fortified with mud; it never ceased, however, to leak like a colander, and presently the floor was covered with deep puddles, then masses of earth dropped from the soft sides of the walls, and, at last, during the violent showers, half the building fell in.

On the second day of my arrival I was called upon by Kannena, the headman of Kawele. He was introduced, habited in silk turban and a broadcloth coat, which I afterwards heard he had borrowed from the Baloch. His aspect was truly ignoble; a short, squat, and broad-backed figure, and his apology for a nose much resembled the pug with which the ancients provided Silenus. On this, his first appearance, he behaved with remarkable civility, and proceeded to levy his blackmail, which was finally settled at ten coil-bracelets and two fundi of beads. I had no salt to spare, or much valuable merchandise might have been saved. Their return was six small bundles of grain. Then Kannena opened trade by sending us a nominal gift, a fine ivory, weighing at least seventy pounds, and worth, perhaps, £100. After keeping it a day or two I returned it, saying I had no dealings in ivory and slaves. This, it appears, was a mistake, as I ought, by a trifling outlay, to have supported the character of a trader. The Wajiji did not understand. “These are men who live by doing nothing!” they exclaimed, and they lost no time in requesting me to quit their territory. To this I objected, and endeavoured to bribe them off. My bribes, I suppose, were not sufficient, for we at once began to see the dark side of the native character. Thieves broke into our out-houses, our asses were wounded by spears, and we were accused of having bewitched and killed their cattle. Still, other travellers fared even worse than we did.

At first the cold, damp climate of the lake regions did not agree with us; perhaps, too, the fish diet was over-rich and fat, and the abundance of vegetables led to little excesses. All energy seemed to have abandoned us. I lay for a fortnight upon the earth, too blind to read and write except at long intervals, too weak to ride, and too ill to talk. My companion, Speke, who, when we arrived at the Tanganyika Lake, was almost as groggy upon his legs as I was, suffered from a painful ophthalmia and a curious distortion of face, which made him chew sideways, like a ruminant. The Baloch complained of influenzas and catarrhs, and their tempers were as sore as their lungs and throats.

But work remained undone, and it was necessary to awaken from my lethargy. Being determined to explore the northern extremity of the Tanganyika Lake, whence, according to several informants, issued a large river flowing northwards, I tried to hire from an Arab merchant the only dhow, or sailing boat, then in existence, since the wretched canoes of the people were quite unfit for a long cruise. I entrusted the mission first of all to my Arab, Said bin Salim, but he shirked it, and I therefore directed my companion to do his best. I got the dhow, and set about stocking it with provisions for a month’s cruise. I had great difficulty in obtaining sufficient provisions, the prices demanded were so exorbitant. After many delays I at last sent my companion away, supplied with an ample outfit, escorted by two Baloch, and attended by his men, across the Bay of Ukaranga. I was then left alone.