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

not fear starvation.

 

At the base of a graceful hilly cone we found a village called

Utende, the inhabitants of which were in a state of great alarm,

as we suddenly appeared on the ridge above them. Diplomacy urged

me to send forward a present of one doti to the Sultan, who, however,

would not accept it, because he happened to be drunk with pombe,

and was therefore disposed to be insolent. Upon being informed

that he would refuse any present, unless he received four more

cloths, I immediately ordered a strong boma to be constructed on

the summits of a little hill, near enough to a plentiful supply of

water, and quietly again packed up the present in the bale. I

occupied a strategically chosen position, as I could have swept

the face of the hill, and the entire space between its base and the

village of Watende. Watchmen were kept on the look-out all night;

but we were fortunately not troubled until the morning; when a

delegation of the principal men came to ask if I intended to depart

without having made a present to the chief. I replied to them that

I did not intend passing through any country without making

friends with the chief; and if their chief would accept a good

cloth from me, I would freely give it to him. Though they

demurred at the amount of the present at first, the difference

between us was finally ended by my adding a fundo of red beads—

sami-sami—for the chief’s wife.

 

From the hill and ridge of Utende sloped a forest for miles and

miles westerly, which was terminated by a grand and smooth-topped

ridge rising 500 or 600 feet above the plain.

 

A four hours’ march, on the 12th of October, brought us to a

nullah similar to the Gombe, which, during the wet season, flows

to the Gombe River, and thence into the Malagarazi River.

 

A little before camping we saw a herd of nimba, or pallah; I had

the good fortune to shoot one, which was a welcome addition to our

fast diminishing store of dried meats, prepared in our camp on the

Gombe. By the quantity of bois de vaches, we judged buffaloes

were plentiful here, as well as elephant and rhinoceros. The

feathered species were well represented by ibis, fish-eagles,

pelicans, storks, cranes, several snowy spoonbills, and

flamingoes.

 

From the nullah, or mtoni, we proceeded to Mwaru, the principal

village of the district of Mwaru, the chief of which is Kamirambo.

Our march lay over desolated clearings once occupied by Kamirambo’s

people, but who were driven away by Mkasiwa some ten years ago,

during his warfare against Manwa Sera. Niongo, the brother of the

latter, now waging war against Mbogo, had passed through Mwaru the

day before we arrived, after being defeated by his enemy.

 

The hilly ridge that bounded the westward horizon, visible from

Utende, was surmounted on this day. The western slope trends

southwest, and is drained by the River Mrera, which empties into

the Malagarazi River. We perceived the influence of the Tanganika,

even here, though we were yet twelve or fifteen marches from the

lake. The jungles increased in density, and the grasses became

enormously tall; these points reminded us of the maritime districts

of Ukwere and Ukami.

 

We heard from a caravan at this place, just come from Ufipa, that a

white man was reported to be in “Urua,” whom I supposed to mean

Livingstone.

 

Upon leaving Mwaru we entered the district of Mrera, a chief who

once possessed great power and influence over this region. Wars,

however, have limited his possessions to three or four villages

snugly embosomed within a jungle, whose outer rim is so dense that

it serves like a stone wall to repel invaders. There were nine

bleached skulls, stuck on the top of as many poles, before the

principal gate of entrance, which told us of existing feuds between

the Wakonongo and the Wazavira. This latter tribe dwelt in a

country a few marches west of us; whose territory we should have

to avoid, unless we sought another opportunity to distinguish

ourselves in battle with the natives. The Wazavira, we were told

by the Wakonongo of Mrera, were enemies to all Wangwana.

 

In a narrow strip of marsh between Mwaru and Mrera, we saw a small

herd of wild elephants. It was the first time I had ever seen

these animals in their native wildness, and my first impressions

of them I shall not readily forget. I am induced to think that

the elephant deserves the title of “king of beasts.” His huge form,

the lordly way in which he stares at an intruder on his domain,

and his whole appearance indicative of conscious might, afford

good grounds for his claim to that title. This herd, as we passed

it at the distance of a mile, stopped to survey the caravan as it

passed: and, after having satisfied their curiosity, the elephants

trooped into the forest which bounded the marshy plain southward,

as if caravans were every-day things to them, whilst they—the free

and unconquerable lords of the forest and the marsh—had nothing

in common with the cowardly bipeds, who never found courage to face

them in fair combat. The destruction which a herd makes in a forest

is simply tremendous. When the trees are young whole swathes may

be found uprooted and prostrate, which mark the track of the

elephants as they “trampled their path through wood and brake.”

 

The boy Selim was so ill at this place that I was compelled to

halt the caravan for him for two days. He seemed to be affected

with a disease in the limbs, which caused him to sprawl, and

tremble most painfully, besides suffering from an attack of acute

dysentery. But constant attendance and care soon brought him round

again; and on the third day he was able to endure the fatigue of

riding.

 

I was able to shoot several animals during our stay at Mrera. The

forest outside of the cultivation teems with noble animals. Zebra,

giraffe, elephant, and rhinoceros are most common; ptarmigan and

guinea-fowl were also plentiful.

 

The warriors of Mrera are almost all armed with muskets, of which

they take great care. They were very importunate in their demands

for flints, bullets, and powder, which I always made it a point to

refuse, lest at any moment a fracas occurring they might use the

ammunition thus supplied to my own disadvantage. The men of this

village were an idle set, doing little but hunting, gaping,

gossiping, and playing like great boys. During the interval of

my stay at Mrera I employed a large portion of my time in mending

my shoes, and patching up the great rents in my clothes, which

the thorn species, during the late marches, had almost destroyed.

Westward, beyond Mrera, was a wilderness, the transit of which we

were warned would occupy nine days hence arose the necessity to

purchase a large supply of grain, which, ere attempting the great

uninhabited void in our front, was to be ground and sifted.

 

CHAPTER XI. THROUGH UKAWENDI, UVINZA, AND UHHA, TO UJIJI.

 

Happy auspices,—Anthills.—The watershed of the Tanganika Lion.

—The king of Kasera.—The home of the lion and the leopard.—

A donkey frightens a leopard—Sublime scenes in Kawendi,—Starvation

imminent.—Amenities of travel in Africa.—Black-mailers.—The

stormy children of Uhha.—News of a white man.—Energetic

marches—Mionvu, chief of tribute-takers.—An escape at

midnight.—Toiling through the jungles.—The Lake Mountains.—

First view of the Tanganika.—Arrival at Ujiji,—The happy meeting

with Livingstone.

 

We bade farewell to Mrera on the 17th of October, to continue our

route north-westward. All the men and I were firm friends now;

all squabbling had long ceased. Bombay and I had forgotten our

quarrel; the kirangozi and myself were ready to embrace, so loving

and affectionate were the terms upon which we stood towards one

another. Confidence returned to all hearts—for now, as Mabruk

Unyanyembe said, “we could smell the fish of the Tanganika.”

Unyanyembe, with all its disquietude, was far behind. We could

snap our fingers at that terrible Mirambo and his unscrupulous

followers, and by-and-by, perhaps, we may be able to laugh at

the timid seer who always prophesied portentous events—Sheikh,

the son of Nasib. We laughed joyously, as we glided in Indian

file through the young forest jungle beyond the clearing of Mrera,

and boasted of our prowess. Oh! we were truly brave that morning!

 

Emerging from the jungle, we entered a thin forest, where numerous

anthills were seen like so many sand-dunes. I imagine that these

anthills were formed during a remarkably wet season, when,

possibly, the forest-clad plain was inundated. I have seen the

ants at work by thousands, engaged in the work of erecting their

hills in other districts suffering from inundation. What a

wonderful system of cells these tiny insects construct! A perfect

labyrinth—cell within cell, room within room, hall within hall—an

exhibition of engineering talents and high architectural capacity—a

model city, cunningly contrived for safety and comfort!

 

Emerging after a short hour’s march out of the forest, we welcome

the sight of a murmuring translucent stream, swiftly flowing

towards the northwest, which we regard with the pleasure which

only men who have for a long time sickened themselves with that

potable liquid of the foulest kind, found in salinas, mbugas,

pools, and puddle holes, can realize. Beyond this stream rises a

rugged and steep ridge, from the summit of which our eyes are

gladdened with scenes that are romantic, animated and picturesque.

They form an unusual feast to eyes sated with looking into the

depths of forests, at towering stems of trees, and at tufted crowns

of foliage. We have now before us scores of cones, dotting the

surface of a plain which extends across Southern Ukonongo to the

territory of the Wafipa, and which reaches as far as the Rikwa Plain.

The immense prospect before which we are suddenly ushered is most

varied; exclusive of conical hills and ambitious flat-topped and

isolated mountains, we are in view of the watersheds of the Rungwa

River, which empties into the Tanganika south of where we stand,

and of the Malagarazi River, which the Tanganika receives, a

degree or so north of this position. A single but lengthy

latitudinal ridge serves as a dividing line to the watershed of the

Rungwa and Malagarazi; and a score of miles or so further west of

this ridge rises another, which runs north and south.

 

We camped on this day in the jungle, close to a narrow ravine with

a marshy bottom, through the oozy, miry contents of which the

waters from the watershed of the Rungwa slowly trickled southward

towards the Rikwa Plain. This was only one of many ravines,

however, some of which were several hundred yards broad, others

were but a few yards in width, the bottoms of which were most

dangerous quagmires, overgrown with dense tall reeds and papyrus.

Over the surface of these great depths of mud were seen hundreds

of thin threads of slimy ochre-coloured water, which swarmed with

animalculae. By-and-by, a few miles south of the base of this

ridge (which I call Kasera, from the country which it cuts in

halves), these several ravines converge and debouch into the broad,

[marshy?], oozy, spongy “river” of Usense, which trends in a

south-easterly direction; after which, gathering the contents of

the watercourses from the north and northeast into its own broader

channel, it soon becomes a stream of some breadth and consequence,

and meets a river flowing from the east, from the direction of

Urori, with which it conflows in the Rikwa Plain, and empties about

sixty rectilineal miles further west into the Tanganika Lake. The

Rungwa River, I am informed, is considered as a boundary line

between the country of Usowa on the north, and Ufipa on the south.