In Darkest Africa, Vol. 1; or, The Quest, Rescue, and Retreat of Emin, Governor of Equatoria

This latter river, of which Dr. Junker was the first to inform us, and which he had crossed far up, tumbled into the Aruwimi, now called the Itiri, by a series of cascades, over reefs of shaly rock, from an altitude of 40 feet. The mouth was about 300 yards wide, narrowing to about 250 yards above the cascade. The natives had staked a considerable distance of the reef, to which to attach their large funnel-shaped baskets for the reception of the fish washed down the rapids. The colour of the Nepoko was of chocolate, that of the Itiri was of tea and milk.

Had I known that one week later I should have encountered Arabs, and their desperate bands of Manyuema, there is no doubt that I should have endeavoured 1887.
Aug. 26.
Nepoko
River. to put a degree of latitude between the centre of their influence and our route. Even as it was, I mentally debated a change of route, from some remarks made to me by Binza (Dr. Junker's Monbuttu boy), who suggested that it were better to travel through lands inhabited by "decent men," to such a horrid region infested by peoples who did not deserve the name of men applied to them, and that the Momvu tribes were sure of according a welcome to those who could show in return that they appreciated hospitality. Binza was most enticing in his descriptions of the Momvu nation. But food with the Avejeli was abundant and various, and we hoped that a change had come over the land. For ever since we had observed a difference in the architecture of the native dwellings, we had observed a change for the better in the diet of the people. Below Panga Falls the aborigines principally subsisted on manioc, and on the different breads, puddings, cakes, and porridges to which they converted these tubers. It will not be forgotten, perhaps, that tapioca is made out of manioc or cassava. But above Panga Falls manioc had been gradually replaced by plantain groves and the plantain is a much more excellent edible than manioc for an expedition, and the groves had been clearly growing into higher importance, therefore we hoped that happier days were in store for us. There were also fields of Indian corn, manioc, yams, and colocassia, plots of tobacco for the smokers, and to our great joy we came across many fowls. A halt was ordered that the sorely-tried people might recuperate.

In their very excusable eagerness for meat the Zanzibaris and Soudanese were very reckless. No sooner was a fowl sighted than there was a general scramble for it; some reckless fellows used their rifles to shoot the chickens, and many a cartridge was expended uselessly for which due punishment was frequently awarded. The orders were most positive that no ammunition was to be wasted, and the efforts made to detect all breaches of these orders were most energetic, but when did a Zanzibari obey orders when away from his employer's eye? 1887.
Aug. 26.
Nepoko
River. The indiscriminate shooting of this day resulted in the shooting of one of the brave band of hard-working pioneers. A bullet from a Winchester struck him in the foot, the bones of which were pulverized and its amputation became imperative. Surgeon Parke performed the operation in a most skilful and expeditious manner, and as the good surgeon was most resolute when "one of his cases" required care—this unfortunate^[9] young man had to be lifted in and out by eight men, must needs have the largest share of a canoe that nothing might offend the tender wound, and of necessity required and received the most bounteous supply of the best food and to have servants to wait upon him—in short, such a share of good things and ready services that I often envied him, and thought that for a sixpence in addition I would not mind exchanging places with him.

Of course another severe lecture followed, and there were loud protestations that they would all pay implicit attention in the future, and of course before the next day every promise was forgotten. There is much to be said for these successive breaches of promise. They relieve the mind from vast care and all sense of responsibility. No restraint burdens it, and an easy gladness brightens the face. Why should a man, being an animal, continually fetter himself with obligations as though he were a moral being to be held accountable for every idle word uttered in a gushing moment?

On the 28th the river column consisting now of the Advance steel boat and sixteen canoes, pushed up river to a camp five miles above Avejeli. The land party was left far behind, for they were struggling through a series of streams and creeks, and buried in depths of suffocatingly close bush, and did not arrive until the next day at noon, when they were urged to proceed about two hours higher, whither we followed them.

We arrived at the foot of a big cataract on the 30th, 1887.
Aug. 30.
Nepoko
River. and by observation ascertained that we had reached half-way to the Albert Lake, Kavalli being in 30° 30' and Yambuya in 25° 3½'. Our camp on this day was in about 27° 47'.

We had 163 geographical miles in an air line to make yet, which we could never accomplish within 64 days as we had performed the western half of the route. The people were in an impoverished state of body, and mentally depressed, ulcers were raging like an epidemic, anæmia had sapped their vitality. They were told the half-way camp was reached, but they replied with murmurs of unbelief. They asked, "How can the master tell? Will that instrument show him the road? Will it tell him which is the path? Why does it not tell us, then, that we may see and believe? Don't the natives know their own country better? Which of them has seen grass? Do they not all say that all the world is covered with trees and thick bush? Bah—the master talks to us as though we were children and had no proper perception."

The morning of the evil date, August 31st, dawned as on other days. It struggled through dense clouds of mist, and finally about 9 o'clock the sun appeared, pale, indistinct, a mere circle of lustreless light. But in the meantime we were hard at our frequent task of cutting a broad highway through the bush and forest, through which the boat could be carried bodily by 60 men, standing underneath; the crew of the flotilla were wrestling with the mad waters, and shoving their vessels up steep slopes of a racing river.

The highway was finished in an hour, and a temporary camp was located above. The canoes began to arrive. I left the Doctor to superintend the pioneers bearing the boat, but he presently returned to report that the boat could not be lifted. I retraced my steps to oversee the operation personally. I had succeeded in conveying it half way when my European servant came running at a mad pace, crying out as he ran: "Sir, oh, sir, Emin Pasha has arrived."

"Emin Pasha!"

1887.
Aug. 31.
Nepoko
River. "Yes, sir. I have seen him in a canoe. His red flag, like ours (the Egyptian), is hoisted up at the stern. It is quite true, sir!"

Of course we bounded forward; the boat was dropped as though it was red hot. A race began, master and man striving for the lead. In the camp the excitement was also general. It was owing, we soon heard, to the arrival of nine Manyuema, who served one called Uledi Balyuz, known to natives by the name of Ugarrowwa, and who was reported to be settled about eight marches up river, and commanding several hundred armed men.

The Arabs were, then, so far inland on the Upper Aruwimi, and I had flattered myself that I had heard the last of these rovers! We were also told that there were fifty of them camped six miles above on their way, by orders of Ugarrowwa, to explore the course of the river, to ascertain if communication with Stanley Falls could be obtained by the unknown stream on whose banks they had settled.

We imparted the information they desired, whereupon they said they would return to their camp and prepare for a hospitable reception on the morrow. The Zanzibaris were considerably elated at the news, for what reason may shortly be seen.

The first absconder was one Juma, who deserted with half a hundredweight of biscuit that night.

On the 1st September, in the early morning, we were clear of the rapids, and, rowing up in company with the caravan, were soon up at the village where the Manyuema were said to be camped. At the gate there was a dead male child, literally hacked to pieces; within the palisades was a dead woman, who had been speared. The Manyuema had disappeared. It seemed to us then that some of our men had damped their joy at the encounter with us, by suggesting that the slaves with them might probably cause in us a revulsion of feeling. Suspicion of this caused an immediate change in their feelings. Their fears impelled them to decamp instantly. Their society was so much regretted, however, that five 1887.
Sept. 1.
Nepoko
River. Zanzibaris, taking five loads, four of ammunition and one of salt, disappeared.

We resumed our journey, and halted at the base of another series of rapids.

The next day Saat Tato, having explored the rapids, reported encouragingly, and expressed his confidence that without much difficulty these could also be surmounted. This report stimulated the boatmen to make another trial. While the river column was busy in its own peculiar and perilous work, a search party was despatched to hunt news of the missing men, and returned with one man, a box of ammunition, and three rifles. The search party had discovered the deserters in the forest, with a case of ammunition open, which they were distributing. In trying to surround them, the deserters became alarmed and scudded away, leaving three of their rifles and a case behind them.

On the 3rd of September five more deserted, carrying away one case of Remington cartridges, one case of Winchester cartridges, one box of European provisions, and one load of fine Arab clothing, worth £50. Another was detected with a box of provisions open before him, having already abstracted a tin of sago, one tin of Liebig, a tin of butter, and one of milk. Ten men had thus disappeared in a couple of days. At this rate, in sixty days the Expedition would be ended. I consulted the chiefs, but I could gain no encouragement to try what extreme measures would effect. It was patent, however, to the dullest that we should be driven to resort to extremities soon to stop this wholesale desertion and theft. Since leaving Yambuya we had lost forty-eight rifles and fifteen cases of Maxim, Winchester, and Remington ammunition.

The day following four men deserted, and one was caught in the act of desertion. The people were accordingly mustered, and sixty men, suspected of being capable of desertion, as no head man would guarantee their fidelity, were rendered helpless by abstracting the mainsprings of the rifles, which we took and locked up. Demoralisation had set in rapidly since we had met the 1887.
Sept. 5.
Nepoko
River. Manyuema. Nothing was safe in their hands. Boxes had been opened, cloth had been stolen, beads had been pilfered, much ammunition had been taken out of the cases, and either thrown, or secreted as a reserve, by the way.

On September 5th we camped near Hippo Broads, so called because the river was fine and broad, and a large herd of hippopotami were seen. The site of our resting place was an abandoned clearing, which had become the haunts of these amphibiæ, and exquisite bits of greensward caused us to imagine for a moment that possibly the open country was not far. Foragers returned after a visit into the interior, on both banks, with four goats and a few bananas, numbers of roast rats, cooked beetles, and slugs. On the 6th we reached a cataract opposite the Bafaido settlement, where we obtained a respectable supply of plantains. The day following we dragged our canoes over a platform of rock, over a projecting ledge of which the river tumbled 10 feet.

From the Bafaido cataract we journeyed along a curving river to Avakubi Rapids, and formed a camp at the landing-place. A path led hence into the interior, which the hungry people soon followed. While scouring the country for food, a woman and child were found, who were brought to me to be examined. But the cleverest interpreter was at fault. No one understood a syllable of the meaningless babble.

Some more rapids were reached the next day. We observed that the oil-palm flourished throughout this section.

Palm nuts were seen in heaps near each village. We even discovered some palms lately planted, which showed some regard for posterity. Achmet, the Somali, who had insisted on leaving Yambuya, in accompanying us had been a passenger ever since we had struck the river above Yankondé, was reported to be dying. He was said to suffer from melanosis. Whatever the disease might be, he had become singularly emaciated, being a literal skeleton covered lightly with skin.

1887.
Sept. 5.
Nepoko
River. From this camp we rounded a point, passed over a short winding course of river, and in an hour approached in view of an awful raging stream choked by narrow banks of shale. The outlook beyond the immediate foreview was first of a series of rolling waves whirling and tossed into spray, descending in succeeding lines, and a great fall of about 30 feet, and above that a steep slope of wild rapids, and the whole capped with mist, and tearing down tumultuously towards us. This was appalling considering the state of the column. There were about 120 loads in the canoes, and between fifty and sixty sick and feeble people. To leave these in the woods to their fate was impossible, to carry the loads and advance appeared equally so; yet to drag the canoes and bear the boat past such a long stretch of wild water appeared to be a task beyond our utmost powers.

Leaving the vessels below the falls and rapids, I led the Expedition by land to the destroyed settlement of Navabi, situated near a bend of the Itiri (Aruwimi) above the disturbed stream, where we established a 1887.
Sept. 6.
Navabi. camp. The sick dragged themselves after the caravan, those too feeble and helpless to travel the distance were lifted up and borne to the camp. Officers then mustered the companies for the work of cutting a broad highway through the bush and hauling the canoes. This task occupied two whole days, while No. 1 Company foraged far and near to obtain food, but with only partial success.

Navabi must have been a remarkable instance of aboriginal prosperity once. It possessed groves of the elais and plantain, large plots of tobacco and Indian corn; the huts under the palms looked almost idyllic; at least so we judged from two which were left standing, and gave us a bit of an aspect at once tropical, pretty, and apparently happy. Elsewhere the whole was desolate. Some parties, which we conjectured belonged to Ugarrowwa, had burnt the settlement, chopped many of the palms down, levelled the banana plantations, and strewed the ground with the bones of the defenders. Five skulls of infants were found within our new camp at Navabi.

1887.
Sept. 12.
Memberri. On the 12th, as we resumed our journey, we were compelled to leave five men who were in an unconscious state and dying. Achmet, the Somali, whom we had borne all the way from Yambuya, was one of them.

From Navabi we proceeded to the landing place of Memberri, which evidently was a frequent haunt of elephants. One of these not far off was observed bathing luxuriously in the river near the right bank. Hungry for meat, I was urged to try my chance. On this Expedition I had armed myself with the Express rifles of 577-bore, which Indian sportsmen so much applaud. The heavy 8-bores were with Major Barttelot and Mr. Jameson. I succeeded in planting six shots in the animal at a few yards distance, but to no purpose except to unnecessarily wound him.

At Memberri we made a muster, and according to returns our numbers stood:—

Added to these eloquent records every member of the Expedition suffered from hunger, and the higher we ascended the means for satisfying the ever-crying want of food appeared to diminish, for the Bakusu and Basongora slaves, under the Manyuema head men of Ugarrowwa, had destroyed the plantations, and either driven the populations to unknown recesses in the forest or had extirpated them.

On the following day we reached Amiri Falls. The previous day the head man, Saadi, had been reproached for leaving one named Makupeté to return along the track to search for a box of ammunition that was reported to be missing, whereupon Saadi took the unwise resolution of proceeding to hunt up Makupeté. Then one, Uledi Manga, disgusted with the severe work and melancholy prospect before us, absconded with another box of ammunition.

1887.
Sept. 13.
Amiri
Falls. We had only three Zanzibar donkeys left. Out of the six with which we had started from Yambuya, one of the three, probably possessed with a presentiment that the caravan was doomed, took it into his head that it was better to return before it was too late, and deserted also. Whither he went no one knew. It is useless to search in the forest for a lost man, donkey, or article. Like the waves divided by a ship's prow uniting at the stern, so the forest enfolds past finding within its deep shades whatsoever enters, and reveals nothing.

Near a single old fishing hut our camp was pitched on the 15th. The river after its immense curve northward and eastward now trended south-easterly, and we had already reached S. Lat. 1° 24' from 1° 58'.

Having been in the habit of losing a box of ammunition per diem for the last few days, having tried almost every art of suppressing this robbery, we now had recourse to lashing the boxes in series of eights, and consigning each to the care of a head man, and holding him responsible for them. This we hoped would check the excuse that the men disappeared into the forest under all kinds of wants.

On the 16th of September, while halting for the midday rest and lunch, several loud reports of musketry were heard up-river. I sent Saat Tato to explore, and in half-an-hour we heard three rifle-shots announcing success; and shortly after three canoes besides our own appeared loaded with men in white dresses, and gay with crimson flags. These came, so they reported, to welcome us in the name of Ugarrowwa, their chief, who would visit my evening camp. After exchanging compliments, they returned up-river, firing their muskets and singing gaily.

At the usual hour we commenced the afternoon march, and at 4 P.M. were in camp just below Ugarrowwa's station. At the same time a roll of drums, the booming of many muskets, and a flotilla of canoes, announced the approach of the Arab leader. About 50 strong, robust fellows accompanied him, besides singers and 1887.
Sept. 13.
Amiri
Falls. women, every one of whom was in prime condition of body.

The leader gave his name as Ugarrowwa, the Zanzibar term for "Lualaba," or native name of "Ruarawwa," known formerly as Uledi Balyuz (or the Consuls Uledi). He had accompanied Captains Speke and Grant, 1860-3, as a tent-boy, and had been left or had deserted in Unyoro. He offered as a gift to us two fat goats and about 40 lbs. of picked rice, a few ripe plantains, and fowls.

Upon asking him if there was any prospect of food being obtained for the people in the vicinity of his station, he admitted, to our sorrow, that his followers in their heedless way had destroyed everything, that it was impossible to check them because they were furious against the "pagans" for the bloody retaliation and excesses the aborigines had committed against many and many of their countrymen during their search for ivory.

Asked what country we were in, he replied that we were in Bunda, the natives of which were Babunda; that the people on the north bank in the neighbourhood of his station were called Bapai or Bavaiya.

He also said that his raiders had gone eastward a month's journey, and had seen from a high hill (Kassololo?), a grassy country extending to the eastward.

Further information was to the effect that his caravan, 600 strong, had left the Lualaba at Kibongés (above Leopold R.), and that in nine moons he had travelled the distance of 370 geographical miles, about a N.E. course, throughout continuous forest without having seen as much grass as would cover the palm of his hand; that he had only crossed one river, the Lindi, before he sighted the Ituri, as the Aruwimi was now called; that he had heard from Arab traders that the Lulu (Lowwa) rose from a small lake called the Ozo, where there was a vast quantity of ivory.

Four days higher Ugarrowwa possessed another station manned with 100 guns, near the Lenda river, a tributary of the Aruwimi, which entered it from the south 1887.
Sept. 13.
Amiri
Falls. bank. His people had sown rice, of which he had brought us some, and onions; but near each settlement was a waste, as it was not policy to permit such "murderous pagans" to exist near them, otherwise he and his people's lives were not safe. He had lost about 200 men of the Bakusu and Basangora tribes, and many a fine Manyuema headman. One time he had lost 40, of whom not one had returned. He had an Arab guest at his station who had lost every soul out of his caravan.

I observed a disposition on his part to send some men with me to the Lake, and there appeared to be no difficulty in housing with him my sick men for a consideration to be hereafter agreed upon.

On the 17th we proceeded a short distance to encamp opposite Ugarrowwa's station.

In the afternoon I was rowed across in my boat to the Arab settlement, and was hospitably received. I found the station to be a large settlement, jealously fenced round with tall palisades and short planks lashed across as screens against chance arrows. In the centre, facing the river, was the house of the chief, commodious, lofty, and comfortable, the walls of which were pierced for musketry. It resembled a fort with its lofty and frowning walls of baked clay. On passing through a passage which separated Ugarrowwa's private apartments from the public rooms, I had a view of a great court 60 feet square, surrounded by buildings and filled with servants. It suggested something baronial in its busy aspect, the abundant service, the great difference of the domestics, amplitude of space, and plenty. The place was certainly impregnable against attack, and, if at all spiritedly defended, a full battalion would have been necessary to have captured this outpost of a slave trader.

I was informed that the river for many days' march appeared to flow from the eastward; that the Ihuru, a considerable distance up, flowed from the northward and joined the Ituri, and that, besides the Lenda, there was another affluent called the Ibina, which entered from the south.

1887.
Sept. 17.
Ugarrowwa's
station. Somewhere higher up also,—vaguely given as ten days' by others twenty days' march,—another Arab was settled who was called Kilonga-Longa, though his real name was also Uledi.

At this settlement I saw the first specimen of the tribe of dwarfs who were said to be thickly scattered north of the Ituri, from the Ngaiyu eastward. She measured thirty-three inches in height, and was a perfectly formed young woman of about seventeen, of a glistening and smooth sleekness of body. Her figure was that of a miniature coloured lady, not wanting in a certain grace, and her face was very prepossessing. Her complexion was that of a quadroon, or of the colour of yellow ivory. Her eyes were magnificent, but absurdly large for such a small creature—almost as large as that of a young gazelle; full, protruding, and extremely lustrous. Absolutely nude, the little demoiselle was quite possessed, as though she were accustomed to be admired, and really enjoyed inspection. She had been discovered near the sources of the Ngaiyu.

Ugarrowwa, having shown me all his treasures, including the splendid store of ivory he had succeeded in collecting, accompanied me to the boat, and sent away with me large trays of exquisitely cooked rice, and an immense bowl full of curried fowl, a dish that I am not fond of, but which inspired gratitude in my camp.

Our landing-place presented a lively scene. The sellers of bananas, potatoes, sugar-cane, rice, flour of manioc, and fowls clamoured for customers, and cloths and beads exchanged hands rapidly. This is the kind of life which the Zanzibaris delight in, like almost all other natives, and their happy spirits were expressed in sounds to which we had long been strangers.

Early this morning I had sent a canoe to pick up any stragglers that might have been unable to reach camp, and before 3 P.M. five sick men, who had surrendered themselves to their fate, were brought in, and shortly after a muster was held. The following were the returns of men able to march:—

1887.
Sept. 17.
Ugarrowwa's
station.

The boat and canoes were manned, and the sick transported to the Arab settlement, arrangements having been made for boarding them at the rate of five dollars each per month until Major Barttelot should appear, or some person bearing an order from me.

It will be remembered that we met Ugarrowwa's men on the 31st of August, one day's march from Avejeli, opposite the Nepoko mouth. These men, instead of pursuing their way down river, had returned to Ugarrowwa to inform him of the news they had received from us, believing that their mission was accomplished. It was Ugarrowwa's wish to obtain gunpowder, as his supply was nearly exhausted. Major Barttelot possessed two and a quarter tons of this explosive, and, as reported by us, was advancing up river, but as he had so much baggage it would take several months before he could arrive so far. I wished to communicate with Major Barttelot, and accordingly I stipulated with Ugarrowwa that if his men continued their way down river along the south or left bank until they delivered a letter into his hands, I would give him an order for three hundredweight of powder. He promised to send forty scouts within a month, and expressed great gratitude. (He actually did send them, as he promised, between the 20th and 25th of October. They succeeded in reaching Wasp Rapids, 165 miles from Yambuya, whence they were obliged to return, owing to losses and the determined hostility of the natives.)

1887.
Sept. 17.
Ugarrowwa's
station. Our Zanzibari deserters had been deluded like ourselves. Imagining that Ugarrowwa's people had continued their journey along some inland route westward, they had hastened westward in pursuit to join them, whereas we discovered they had returned eastward to their master. The arrangements made with Ugarrowwa, and the public proclamation of the man himself before all, would, I was assured, suffice to prevent further desertion.

We were pretty tired of the river work with its numerous rapids, and I suggested to Ugarrowwa that I should proceed by land; the Arab, however, was earnest in dissuading me from that course, as the people would be spared the necessity of carrying many loads, the sick having been left behind, and informed me that his information led him to believe that the river was much more navigable above for many days than below.

CHAPTER IX.

We had scarcely been all collected in our camp, and the evening was rapidly becoming dusky, when a canoe from Ugarrowwa appeared with three Zanzibaris bound as prisoners. Inquiring the cause of this, I was astonished to find that they were deserters whom Ugarrowwa had picked up soon after reaching his station. They had absconded with rifles, and their pouches showed that they had contrived to filch cartridges on the road. I rewarded Ugarrowwa with a revolver and 200 cartridges. The prisoners were secured for the night, but before retiring I debated carefully as to what method was best to deal with these people. If this were permitted to 1887.
Sept. 19.
Ugarrowwa's
station. proceed without the strongest measures, we should in a short time be compelled to retrace our steps, and all the lives and bitter agonies of the march would have been expended in vain.

In the morning "all hands" were mustered, and an address was delivered to the men in fitting words, to which all assented; and all agreed that we had endeavoured our utmost to do our duty, that we had all borne much, but that the people on this occasion appeared to be all slaves, and possessed no moral sense whatever. They readily conceded that if natives attempted to steal our rifles, which were "our souls," we should be justified in shooting them dead, and that if men, paid for their labour, protected and treated kindly, as they were, attempted to cut our throats in the night, were equally liable to be shot.

"Well then," said I, "what are these doing but taking our arms, and running away with our means of defence. You say that you would shoot natives, if they stood in your way preventing your progress onward or retreat backward. What are these doing? For if you have no rifles left, or ammunition, can you march either forward or backward?"

"No," they admitted.

"Very well, then, you have condemned them to death. One shall die to-day, another to-morrow, and another the next day, and from this day forward, every thief and deserter who leaves his duty and imperils his comrades' lives shall die."

The culprits were then questioned as to who they were. One replied that he was the slave of Farjalla-bill Ali—a headman in No. 1 company; another that he was the slave of a Banyan in Zanzibar, and the third that he was the slave of an artizan at work in Unyanyembé.

Lots were cast, and he who chose the shortest paper of three slips was the one to die first. The lot fell upon the slave of Farjalla, who was then present. The rope was heaved over a stout branch. Forty men at the word of command lay hold of the rope and a noose was cast round the prisoner's neck.

1887.
Sept. 19.
Ugarrowwa's
station. "Have you anything to say before the word is given?"

He replied with a shake of the head. The signal was given, and the man was hoisted up. Before the last struggles were over, the Expedition had filed out of camp leaving the rear-guard and river column behind. A rattan was substituted in place of our rope, the body was secured to the tree, and within fifteen minutes the camp was abandoned.

We made good progress on this day. A track ran along the river which greatly assisted the caravan. In passing through we searched and found only ten bunches of miniature plantains. We formed camp an hour's distance from the confluence of the Lenda and Ituri.

Another noble tusker was bathing opposite the river, and Captain Nelson, with a double-barrelled rifle, similar to my own, myself, and Saat Tato the hunter, crossed over and floated down within fifteen yards of the elephant. We fired three bullets simultaneously into him, and in a second had planted two more, and yet with all this lead fired at vital parts the animal contrived to escape. From this time we lost all confidence in these rifles. We never bagged one head of game with the Expresses during the entire Expedition. Captain Nelson sold his rifle for a small supply of food to Kilonga-Longa some time afterwards, and I parted with mine as a gift to Antari, King of Ankori, nearly two years later. With the No. 8 or No. 10 Reilly rifle I was always successful, therefore those interested in such things may avail themselves of our experience.

As the next day dawned and a grey light broke through the umbrageous coping of the camp I despatched a boy to call the head chief Rashid.

"Well, Rashid, old man, we shall have to execute the other man presently. It will soon be time to prepare for it. What do you say?"

"Well, what can we do else than kill those who are trying to kill us? If we point to a pit filled at the bottom with pointed pales and poisoned skewers, and 1887.
Sept. 20.
Ugarrowwa's
station. tell men to beware of it, surely we are not to blame if men shut their ears to words of warning and spring in. On their own heads let the guilt lie."

"But it is very hard after all. Rashid bin Omar, this forest makes men's hearts like lead, and hunger has driven their wits out of their heads; nothing is thought of but the empty belly and crying stomach. I have heard that when mothers are driven by famine they will sometimes eat their children. Why should we wonder that the servant runs away from his master when he cannot feed him?"

"That is the truth as plain as sunshine. But if we have to die let us all die together. There are plenty of good men here who will give you their hearts whenever you bid them do it. There are others—slaves of slaves—who know nothing and care for nothing, and as they would fly with what we need to make our own lives sure, let them perish and rot. They all know that you, a Christian, are undergoing all this to save the sons of Islam who are in trouble near some great sea, beyond here; they profess Islam, and yet would leave the Christian in the bush. Let them die."

"But supposing, Rashid, we could prevent this breakup and near ruin by some other way not quite so severe as to hang them up until they are dead; what would you say?"

"I would say, sir, that all ways are good, but, without doubt, the best is that which will leave them living to repent."

"Good, then, after my coffee the muster will be sounded. Meanwhile, prepare a long rattan cable; double it over that stout branch yonder. Make a good noose of a piece of that new sounding line. Get the prisoner ready, put guards over him, then when you hear the trumpet tell these words in the ears of the other chiefs, 'Come to me, and ask his pardon, and I will give it you.' I shall look to you, and ask if you have anything to say; that will be your signal. How do you like it?"

"Let it be as you say. The men will answer you."

1887.
Sept. 20.
Ugarrowwa's
station. In half-an-hour the muster signal sounded; the companies formed a square enclosing the prisoner. A long rattan cable hung suspended with the fatal noose attached to a loop; it trailed along the ground like an immense serpent. After a short address, a man advanced and placed the noose around the neck; a company was told off to hoist the man upward.

"Now, my man, have you anything to say to us before you join your brother who died yesterday?"

The man remained silent, and scarcely seemed conscious that I spoke. I turned round to the head man. "Have you anything to say before I pass the word?"

Then Rashid nudged his brother chiefs, at which they all rushed up, and threw themselves at my feet, pleading forgiveness, blaming in harsh terms the thieves and murderers, but vowing that their behaviour in future would be better if mercy was extended for this one time.

During this scene the Zanzibaris' faces were worth observing. How the eyes dilated and the lips closed, and their cheeks became pallid, as with the speed of an electric flash the same emotion moved them!

"Enough, children! take your man, his life is yours. But see to it. There is only one law in future for him who robs us of a rifle, and that is death by the cord."

Then such a manifestation of feeling occurred that I was amazed—real big tears rolled down many a face, while every eye was suffused and enlarged with his passionate emotions. Caps and turbans were tossed into the air. Rifles were lifted, and every right arm was up as they exclaimed "Until the white cap is buried none shall leave him! Death to him who leaves Bula Matari! Show the way to the Nyanza! Lead on now—now we will follow!"

Nowhere have I witnessed such affecting excitement except in Spain—perhaps when the Republicans stormily roared their sentiments, after listening to some glorious exhortations to stand true to the new faith in Libertad, Igualdad, and Fraternidad!

1887.
Sept. 20.
Ugarrowwa's
station. The prisoner also wept, and after the noose was flung aside knelt down and vowed to die at my feet. We shook hands and I said, "It is God's work, thank Him."

Merrily the trumpet blared once more, and at once rose every voice, "By the help of God! By the help of God!" The detail for the day sprang to their posts, received their heavy load for the day, and marched away rejoicing as to a feast. Even the officers smiled their approval. Never was there such a number of warmed hearts in the forest of the Congo as on that day.

The land and river columns reached the Lenda within an hour, and about the same time. This was apparently a deep river about a hundred yards wide. On the west side of the confluence was a small village, but its plantain groves had been long ago despoiled of fruit. Soon after the ferriage was completed the men were permitted to scour the country in search of food; some on the north bank, and others on the south bank, but long before night they all returned, having been unable to find a morsel of any kind of edible.

On the 22nd, while pursuing our way by river and by land as usual, I reflected that only on the 18th I had left fifty-six invalids under the care of an Arab; yet on observing the people at the muster, I noticed that there were about fifty already incapacitated by debility. The very stoutest and most prudent were pining under such protracted and mean diet. To press on through such wastes unpeopled by the ivory hunters appeared simply impossible, but on arriving at Umeni we had the good fortune to find sufficient for a full day's rations, and hope again filled us.

The following day, one man, called "Abdallah the humped," deserted. We on the river were troubled with several rapids, and patches of broken water, and in discharging cargo, and hauling canoes, and finally we came in view of a fall of forty feet with lengths of rapids above and below.

One would have thought that by this time the Ituri 1887.
Sept. 23.
Ituri
River. would have become an insignificant stream, but when we saw the volume of water precipitated over the third large cataract, we had to acknowledge that it was still a powerful river.

The 24th was passed by us in foraging, and cutting a highway to above the rapids and disconnecting boat sections for transport. The pioneers secured a fair quantity of plantains, the three other companies nothing. The obstructions to this cataract consisted of reddish schistose rock.

On the next day we were clear of the third cataract and halted at an old Arab encampment. During this day no new supply of food was obtained.

The day following we reached another series of rapids, and after a terrible day's work unloading and reshipping several times, with the fatigues and anxiety incurred during the mounting of the dangerous rapids, we reached camp opposite Avatiko.

How useful the boat and canoes were to us may be imagined from the fact that it required us to make three round trips to carry 227 loads. Even then it occupied all the healthy men until night. The people were so reduced by hunger, that over a third could do no more than crawl. I was personally reduced to two bananas on this day from morning to night. But some of our Zanzibaris had found nothing to subsist on for two entire days, which was enough to sap the strength of the best. A foraging party of No. 1 Company crossed the river to Avatiko settlement, and found a small supply of young fruit, but they captured a woman who stated that she knew and could guide us to plantains as large as her arms.

The 27th of September was a halt. I despatched Lieutenant Stairs to explore ahead along the river, and 180 men across river to forage for food, with our female captive as guide. The former returned to report that no village had been seen, and to detail an exciting encounter he had had with elephants, from which it appeared he had a narrow escape. The Zanzibaris came back with sufficient plantains to distribute from 1887.
Sept. 27.
Avatiko. sixty to eighty per man. If the people had followed our plan of economising the food, we should have had less suffering to record, but their appetites were usually ungovernable. The quantity now distributed impartially, ought to have served them for from six to eight days, but several sat up all night to eat, trusting in God to supply them with more on peremptory demand.

On the 30th the river and land parties met at lunch time. This day the officers and myself enjoyed a feast. Stairs had discovered a live antelope in a pit, and I had discovered a mess of fresh fish in a native basket-net at the mouth of a small creek. In the afternoon we camped at a portion of the river bank which showed signs of its being used as a landing near a ferry. Soon after camping we were startled by three shots. These indicated the presence of Manyuema, and presently about a dozen fine-looking men stalked into the camp. They were the followers of Kilonga-Longa, the rival of Ugarrowwa in the career of devastation to which these two leaders had committed themselves.

The Manyuema informed us that Kilonga-Longa's settlement was but five days' journey, and that as the country was uninhabited it would be necessary to provide rations of plantains which could be procured across river, and that still a month's journey lay between us and the grass land. They advised us to stay at the place two days to prepare the food, to which we were very willing to agree, the discovery of some kind of provisions being imperative.

During the first day's halt, the search for food was unsuccessful, but on the second day at early dawn a strong detachment left for the north bank, under Lieutenant Stairs and Surgeon Parke. In the afternoon the foragers returned with sufficient plantains to enable us to serve out forty to each man. Some of the most enterprising men had secured more, but extreme want had rendered them somewhat unscrupulous, and they had contrived to secrete a small reserve.

On the 3rd of October, soon after leaving our camp in the morning, we entered into a pool-like formation, 1887.
Oct. 3.
Starvation
Camp. surrounded by hills rising from 250 to 600 feet above the river, and arriving at the end saw a crooked, ditch-like, and very turbulent stream. The scenery reminded us of a miniature Congo cañon banked as it was with lines of lofty hills. A presentiment warned us that we were about to meet more serious obstacles than any we had yet met. We progressed, however, upward about three miles, but the difficulties of advance were so numerous that we were unable to reach the caravan camp.

On the 4th we proceeded about a mile and a half, and crossed the Expedition to the north bank, as we had been told that the Manyuema settlement of Ipoto was situated on that side. The Manyuema had disappeared, and three of our deserters had accompanied them. Two men had also died of dysentery. We experienced several narrow escapes; a canoe was twice submerged, the steel boat was nearly lost, and the severe bumping she received destroyed the rate of our chronometers, which hitherto had been regular. I should have abandoned the river on this day, but the wilderness, the horrible, lonely, uninhabited wilderness, and the excessive physical prostration and weakness of the people, forbade it. We hoped and hoped that we should be able to arrive at some place where food and rest could be obtained, which appeared improbable, except at Kilonga-Longa's settlement.

The next day we arrived, at 10 A.M., after a push through terribly wild water, at a sharp bend curving eastward from N.E., distinguished by its similarity of outline on a small scale to Nsona Mamba, of the Lower Congo. Stepping on shore before we had gone far within the bend, and standing on some lava-like rock, I saw at a glance that this was the end of river navigation by canoes. The hills rose up to a bolder height, quite 600 feet, the stream was contracted to a width of twenty-five yards, and about a hundred yards above the point on which I stood, the Ihuru escaped, wild and furious, from a gorge; while the Ituri was seen descending from a height in a series of cataracts, and, 1887.
Oct. 5.
Starvation
Camp. both uniting at this point, and racing madly at the highest pitch and velocity, bellowed their uproar loudly amongst the embanking and sombre forest heights.

I sent messengers across the river to recall the caravan which was under the leadership of Stairs, and on their return recrossed the people to the south bank.

On the morning of the 6th of October our state and numbers were 271 in number, including white and black. Since then two had died of dysentery, one from debility, four had deserted, and one man was hanged. We had therefore 263 men left. Out of this number fifty-two had been reduced to skeletons, who first, attacked by ulcers, had been unable to forage, and to whom through their want of economizing what rations had been distributed, had not sufficient to maintain them during the days that intervened of total want. These losses in men left me 211 still able to march, and as among these there were forty men non-carriers, and as I had 227 loads, it followed that when I needed carriage, I had about eighty loads more than could be carried. Captain Nelson for the last two weeks had also suffered from a dozen small ulcers, which had gradually increased in virulence. On this day then, when the wild state of the river quite prohibited further progress by it, he and fifty-two men were utterly unfit and incapable of travel.

It was a difficult problem that now faced us. Captain Nelson was our comrade, whom to save we were bound to exert our best force. To the fifty-two black men we were equally bound by the most solemn obligations; and dark as was the prospect around us, we were not so far reduced but that we entertained a lively hope that we could save them. As the Manyuema had reported that their settlement was only five days' journey, and we had already travelled two days' march, then probably the village or station was still three days ahead of us. It was suggested by Captain Nelson that if we despatched intelligent couriers ahead, they would be enabled to reach Kilonga-Longa's settlement long 1887.
Oct. 6.
Starvation
Camp. before the column. As this suggestion admitted of no contradiction, and as the head men were naturally the most capable and intelligent, the chief of the head men and five others were hastened off, and instructed at once to proceed along the south bank of the river until they discovered some landing place, whence they must find means to cross the Ituri and find the settlement, and obtain an immediate store of food.

Before starting officers and men demanded to know from me whether I believed the story of Arabs being ahead. I replied that I believed most thoroughly, but that it was possible that the Manyuema had underestimated the distance to gratify or encourage us and abate our anxiety.

After informing the unfortunate cripples of our intention to proceed forward until we could find food that we might not all be lost, and send relief as quickly as it could be obtained, I consigned the fifty-two men, eighty-one loads, and ten canoes in charge of Captain Nelson—bade him be of good cheer, and hoisting our loads and boat on our shoulders, we marched away.

No more gloomy spot could have been selected for a camp than that sandy terrace, encompassed by rocks and hemmed in narrowly by those dark woods, which rose from the river's edge to the height of 600 feet, and pent in the never-ceasing uproar created by the writhing and tortured stream and the twin cataracts, that ever rivalled each other's thunder. The imagination shudders at the hapless position of those crippled men, who were doomed to remain inactive, to listen every moment to the awful sound of that irreconcilable fury of wrathful waters, and the monotonous and continuous roar of plunging rivers, to watch the leaping waves, coiling and twisting into changing columns as they ever wrestled for mastery with each other, and were dashed in white fragments of foam far apart by the ceaseless force of driven currents; to gaze at the dark, relentless woods spreading upward and around, standing perpetually fixed in dull green, mourning over past ages, past times, and past generations; then think of the 1887.
Oct. 6.
Nsona
Mamba. night, with its palpable blackness, the dead black shadows of the wooded hills, that eternal sound of fury, that ceaseless boom of the cataracts, the indefinite forms born of nervousness and fearfulness, that misery engendered by loneliness and creeping sense of abandonment; then will be understood something of the true position of these poor men.

And what of us trudging up these wooded slopes to gain the crest of the forest uplands, to tramp on and on, whither we knew not, for how long a time we dared not think, seeking for food with the double responsibility weighing us down for these trustful, brave fellows with us, and for those, no less brave and trustful, whom we had left behind at the bottom of the horrible cañon!

As I looked at the poor men struggling wearily onward it appeared to me as though a few hours only were needed to ensure our fate. One day, perhaps two days, and then life would ebb away. How their eyes searched the wild woods for the red berries of the phrynia, and the tartish, crimson, and oblong fruit of the amoma! How they rushed for the flat beans of the forest, and gloated over their treasures of fungi! In short, nothing was rejected in this severe distress to which we were reduced except leaves and wood. We passed several abandoned clearings; and some men chopped down pieces of banana stalk, then searched for wild herbs to make potage, the bastard jack fruit, or the fenessi, and other huge fruit became dear objects of interest as we straggled on.