How I Found Livingstone by Henry M. Stanley (read after .txt) 📖

mentally vowed that Mr. Hamdallah should

work out those 27 doti of cloths before I reached the coast.

 

Wednesday, October 4th, saw us travelling to the Gombe River,

which is 4 h. 15 m. march from Manyara.

 

We had barely left the waving cornfields of my friend Ma-manyara

before we came in sight of a herd of noble zebra; two hours

afterwards we had entered a grand and noble expanse of park

land, whose glorious magnificence and vastness of prospect,

with a far-stretching carpet of verdure darkly flecked here

and there by miniature clumps of jungle, with spreading trees

growing here and there, was certainly one of the finest scenes

to be seen in Africa. Added to which, as I surmounted one of

the numerous small knolls, I saw herds after herds of buffalo

and zebra, giraffe and antelope, which sent the blood coursing

through my veins in the excitement of the moment, as when I first

landed on African soil. We crept along the plain noiselessly to

our camp on the banks of the sluggish waters of the Gombe. ‘

 

Here at last was the hunter’s Paradise! How petty and

insignificant appeared my hunts after small antelope and wild boar

what a foolish waste of energies those long walks through damp

grasses and through thorny jungles! Did I not well remember ‘

my first bitter experience in African jungles when in the maritime

region! But this—where is the nobleman’s park that can match

this scene? Here is a soft, velvety expanse of young grass,

grateful shade under those spreading clumps; herds of large and

varied game browsing within easy rifle range. Surely I must

feel amply compensated now for the long southern detour I have

made, when such a prospect as this opens to the view! No

thorny jungles and rank smelling swamps are here to daunt the

hunter, and to sicken his aspirations after true sport! No

hunter could aspire after a nobler field to display his prowess.

 

Having settled the position of the camp, which overlooked one of

the pools found in the depression of the Gombe creek, I took my

double-barrelled smoothbore, and sauntered off to the park-land.

Emerging from behind a clump, three fine plump spring-bok were

seen browsing on the young grass just within one hundred yards.

I knelt down and fired; one unfortunate antelope bounded upward

instinctively, and fell dead. Its companions sprang high into

the air, taking leaps about twelve feet in length, as if they

were quadrupeds practising gymnastics, and away they vanished,

rising up like India-rubber balls; until a knoll hid them from

view. My success was hailed with loud shouts by the soldiers;

who came running out from the camp as soon as they heard the

reverberation of the gun, and my gunbearer had his knife at

the beast’s throat, uttering a fervent “Bismillah!” as he

almost severed the head from the body.

 

Hunters were now directed to proceed east and north to procure

meat, because in each caravan it generally happens that there are

fundi, whose special trade it is to hunt for meat for the camp.

Some of these are experts in stalking, but often find themselves

in dangerous positions, owing to the near approach necessary,

before they can fire their most inaccurate weapons with any certainty.

 

After luncheon, consisting of spring-bok steak, hot corn-cake, and

a cup of delicious Mocha coffee, I strolled towards the southwest,

accompanied by Kalulu and Majwara, two boy gunbearers. The tiny

perpusilla started up like rabbits from me as I stole along through

the underbrush; the honey-bird hopped from tree to tree chirping

its call, as if it thought I was seeking the little sweet treasure,

the hiding-place of which it only knew; but no! I neither desired

perpusilla nor the honey. I was on the search for something great

this day. Keen-eyed fish-eagles and bustards poised on trees above

the sinuous Gombe thought, and probably with good reason that I was

after them; judging by the ready flight with which both species

disappeared as they sighted my approach. Ah, no! nothing but

hartebeest, zebra, giraffe, eland, and buffalo this day! After

following the Gombe’s course for about a mile, delighting my eyes

with long looks at the broad and lengthy reaches of water to which

I was so long a stranger, I came upon a scene which delighted the

innermost recesses of my soul; five, six, seven, eight, ten

zebras switching their beautiful striped bodies, and biting one

another, within about one hundred and fifty yards. The scene was

so pretty, so romantic, never did I so thoroughly realize that I

was in Central Africa. I felt momentarily proud that I owned such

a vast domain, inhabited with such noble beasts. Here I possessed,

within reach of a leaden ball, any one I chose of the beautiful

animals, the pride of the African forests! It was at my option to

shoot any of them! Mine they were without money or without

price; yet, knowing this, twice I dropped my rifle, loth to wound

the royal beasts, but—crack! and a royal one was on his back

battling the air with his legs. Ah, it was such a pity! but,

hasten, draw the keen sharp-edged knife across the beautiful

stripes which fold around the throat; and—what an ugly gash!

it is done, and 1 have a superb animal at my feet. Hurrah!

I shall taste of Ukonongo zebra to-night.

 

I thought a spring-bok and zebra enough for one day’s sport,

especially after a long march. The Gombe, a long stretch of

deep water, winding in and out of green groves, calm, placid,

with lotus leaves lightly resting on its: surface, all pretty,

picturesque, peaceful as a summer’s dream, looked very inviting

for a bath. I sought out the most shady spot under a wide-spreading mimosa, from which the ground sloped smooth as a lawn,

to the still, clear water. I ventured to undress, and had already

stepped in to my ancles in the water, and had brought my hands

together for a glorious dive, when my attention was attracted by

an enormously long body which shot into view, occupying the spot

beneath the surface that I was about to explore by a “header.”

Great heavens, it was a crocodile! I sprang backward instinctively,

and this proved my salvation, for the monster turned away with the

most disappointed look, and I was left to congratulate myself upon

my narrow escape from his jaws, and to register a vow never to be

tempted again by the treacherous calm of an African river.

 

As soon as I had dressed I turned away from the now repulsive

aspect of the stream. In strolling through the jungle, towards

my camp, I detected the forms of two natives looking sharply about

them, and, after bidding my young attendants to preserve perfect

quiet, I crept on towards them, and, by the aid of a thick clump

of underbush, managed to arrive within a few feet of the natives

undetected. Their mere presence in the immense forest, unexplained,

was a cause of uneasiness in the then disturbed state of the country,

and my intention was to show myself suddenly to them, and note its

effect, which, if it betokened anything hostile to the Expedition,

could without difficulty be settled at once, with the aid of my

double-barrelled smoothbore.

 

As I arrived on one side of this bush, the two suspicious-looking

natives arrived on the other side, and we were separated by only

a few feet. I made a bound, and we were face to face. The natives

cast a glance at the sudden figure of a white man, and seemed

petrified for a moment, but then, recovering themselves, they

shrieked out, “Bana, bana, you don’t know us. We are Wakonongo,

who came to your camp to accompany you to Mrera, and we are

looking for honey.”

 

“Oh, to be sure, you are the Wakonongo. Yes—Yes. Ah, it is all

right now, I thought you might be RugaRuga.”

 

So the two parties, instead of being on hostile terms with each

other, burst out laughing. The Wakonongo enjoyed it very much,

and laughed heartily as they proceeded on their way to search

for the wild honey. On a piece of bark they carried a little

fire with which they smoked the bees out from their nest in the

great mtundu-trees.

 

The adventures of the day were over; the azure of the sky had

changed to a dead grey; the moon was appearing just over the

trees; the water of the Gombe was like a silver belt; hoarse

frogs bellowed their notes loudly by the margin of the creek;

the fish-eagles uttered their dirge-like cries as they were

perched high on the tallest tree; elands snorted their warning

to the herds in the forest; stealthy forms of the carnivora stole

through the dark woods outside of our camp. Within the high

inclosure of bush and thorn, which we had raised around our camp,

all was jollity, laughter, and radiant, genial comfort. Around

every camp-fire dark forms of men were seen squatted: one man

gnawed at a luscious bone; another sucked the rich marrow in a

zebra’s leg-bone; another turned the stick, garnished with huge

kabobs, to the bright blaze; another held a large rib over a

flame; there were others busy stirring industriously great black

potfuls of ugali, and watching anxiously the meat simmering, and

the soup bubbling, while the fire-light flickered and danced

bravely, and cast a bright glow over the naked forms of the men,

and gave a crimson tinge to the tall tent that rose in the centre

of the camp, like a temple sacred to some mysterious god; the

fires cast their reflections upon the massive arms of the trees,

as they branched over our camp, and, in the dark gloom of their

foliage, the most fantastic shadows were visible. Altogether

it was a wild, romantic, and impressive scene. But little recked

my men for shadows and moonlight, for crimson tints, and temple-like tents—they were all busy relating their various experiences,

and gorging themselves with the rich meats our guns had obtained

for us. One was telling how he had stalked a wild boar, and the

furious onset the wounded animal made on him, causing him to drop

his gun, and climb a tree, and the terrible grunt of the beast he

well remembered, and the whole welkin rang with the peals of

laughter which his mimic powers evoked. Another had shot a

buffalo-calf, and another had bagged a hartebeest; the Wakonongo

related their laughable rencontre with me in the woods, and were

lavish in their description of the stores of honey to be found

in the woods; and all this time Selim and his youthful subs were

trying their sharp teeth on the meat of a young pig which one

of the hunters had shot, but which nobody else would eat, because

of the Mohammedan aversion to pig, which they had acquired during

their transformation from negro savagery to the useful docility

of the Zanzibar freed-man.

 

We halted the two following days, and made frequent raids on the

herds of this fine country. The first day I was fairly successful

again in the sport. I bagged a couple of antelopes, a kudu

(A. strepsiceros) with fine twisting horns, and a pallah-buck

(A. melampus), a reddish-brown animal, standing about three and

a half feet, with broad posteriors. I might have succeeded in

getting dozens of animals had I any of those accurate, heavy

rifles manufactured by Lancaster, Reilly, or Blissett, whose every

shot tells. But my weapons, save my light smoothbore, were unfit

for African game. My weapons were more for men. With the Winchester

rifle, and the Starr’s carbine, I was able to hit anything within

two hundred yards, but the animals, though wounded, invariably

managed to escape the knife, until I was disgusted with