Through the Dark Continent, Vol. 2 (of 2)

Running the gauntlet—Kindly solitudes—Amina’s death—The humanizing effects of trade apparent—“The most plausible rogue of all Africa”—The king of Chumbiri; his hospitality, wives, possessions, and cunning—Making up a language—Pythons—The Ibari Nkutu or the Kwango—Treacherous guides—The Stanley Pool—Chief Itsi of Ntamo—We have to give up our big goat—River observations.

Feb. 22.—From the left bank we crossed to the right, on the morning of the 22nd, and, clinging to the wooded shores of Ubangi, had reached at noon south latitude 0° 51′ 13″. Two hours later we came to where the great river contracted to a breath of 3000 yards, flowing between two low rocky points, both of which were populous, well cultivated, and rich with banana plantations. Below these points the river slowly widened again, and islands well wooded, as above river, rose into view, until by their number they formed once more intricate channels and winding creeks.

Desirous of testing the character of the natives, we pulled across to the left bank, until, meeting with a small party of fishermen, we were again driven by their ferocity to seek the untravelled and unpopulated island wildernesses. It was rather amusing than otherwise to observe the readiness of the savages of Irebu to fire their guns at us. They appeared to think that we were human waifs without parentage, guardianship, or means of protection, for their audacity was excessive. One canoe with only four men dashed down at us from behind an island close to the left bank, and fired point-blank from a distance of 100 yards. Another party ran along a spit of sand and coolly waited our approach on their knees, and, though we sheered off to a distance of 200 yards from them, they poured a harmless volley of slugs towards us, at which Baraka, the humourist, said that the pagans caused us to “eat more iron than grain.”

Such frantic creatures, however, could not tempt us to fight them. The river was wide enough, channels innumerable afforded us means of escaping from their mad ferocity, and if poor purblind nature was so excessively arrogant, Providence had kindly supplied us with crooked by-ways and unfrequented paths of water which we might pursue unmolested.

Feb. 23.—At noon of the 23rd we had reached 1° 22′ 15″ south latitude. Strong gales met us during each day. The islands were innumerable, creeks and channels winding in and out amongst the silent scenes. But though their general appearance was much the same, almost uniform in outline and size, the islands never became commonplace. Was it from gratitude at the security they afforded us from the ruthless people of these regions? I do not know, but every bosky island into whose dark depths, shadowed by impervious roofs of foliage, we gazed had about it something kindly and prepossessing. Did we love them because, from being hunted by our kind, and ostracized from communities of men, we had come to regard them as our homes? I cannot tell, but I shall ever and for ever remember them. Ah, had I but space, how I would revel in descriptions of their treasures and their delights! Even with their gad-flies and their tsetsé, their mosquitoes and their ants, I love them. There was no treachery or guile in their honest depths; the lurking assassin feared their twilight gloom; the savage dared not penetrate their shades without a feeling of horror; but to us they were refuges in our distress, and their solitudes healed our woes. How true the words, “Affliction cometh not out of the dust, nor doth trouble spring out of the ground.” Innocence and peace dwelt in the wilderness alone. Outside of them glared the fierce-eyed savage, with malice and rage in his heart, and deadly weapons in his hand.

To us, then, these untenanted islets, with their “breadths of tropic shade, and palms in clusters,” seemed verily “knots of paradise.” Like hunted beasts of the chase, we sought the gloom and solitude of the wilds. Along the meandering and embowered creeks, hugging the shadows of the o’erarching woods, we sought for that safety which man refused us.

Feb. 24.—The great river grew sea-like in breadth below Irebu on the morning of the 24th; indeed, it might have been 100 miles in breadth for aught we knew, deep-buried as we were among the islands. Yet there were broad and deep channels on every side of us, as well as narrow creeks between lengthy islands. The volume of water appeared exhaustless, though distributed over such an enormous width. There was water sufficient to float the most powerful steamers that float in the Mississippi. Here and there amongst the verdured isles gleamed broad humps of white sand, but on either side were streams several hundred yards wide, with as much as three fathoms’ depth of water in the channels.

At noon we reached south latitude 1° 37′ 22″. The Mompurengi natives appeared on an island and expressed their feelings by discharging two guns at us, which we did not resent, but steadily held on our way. An hour afterwards faithful Amina, wife of Kachéché, breathed her last, making a most affecting end.

Being told by Kachéché that his poor wife was dying, I drew my boat alongside of the canoe she was lying in. She was quite sensible, but very weak. “Ah, master!” she said, “I shall never see the sea again. Your child Amina is dying. I have so wished to see the cocoanuts and the mangoes; but no—Amina is dying—dying in a pagan land. She will never see Zanzibar. The master has been good to his children, and Amina remembers it. It is a bad world, master, and you have lost your way in it. Good-bye, master; do not forget poor little Amina!”

While floating down, we dressed Amina in her shroud, and laid her tenderly out, and at sunset consigned her body to the depths of the silent river.

Feb. 25.—The morning of the 25th saw us once again on the broad stream floating down. We got a view of the mainland to the right, and discovered it to be very low. We hurried away into the island creeks, and floated down amongst many reedy, grassy islets, the haunt of bold hippopotami, one of which made a rush at a canoe with open mouth, but contented himself fortunately with a paddle, which he crunched into splinters.

At noon we had reached south latitude 1° 58′ 12″. About 4 P.M. we came to what appeared to be a river, 1500 yards wide, issuing from north-north-east, while the course that we had followed was from the north-east during the afternoon. It was quite free from islets, and this made me suspect it was a separate river. The main river was here about six miles wide.

Feb. 26.—During our voyage on the 26th, the grassy islets became more frequent, inhabited by the flamingo, pelican, stork, whydahs, ibis, geese, ducks, &c. The saltmakers find a great source of wealth in the grasses; and the smoke of their fires floated over the country in clouds.

At 10 A.M. the Levy Hills rose into view about two miles beyond the river on the left bank, which as we neared Kutumpuku approached the river, and formed a ridge. Instantly the sight of the approaching hills suggested cataracts and the memories of the terrific struggles we had undergone in passing the Stanley Falls were then brought vividly to our mind. What should we do with our sadly weakened force, were we to experience the same horrible scenes again?

At noon I took an observation and ascertained that we were in south latitude 2° 23′ 14″. Edging off towards the right bank, we came to a creek, which from the immense number of those amphibious animals, I have called “Hippopotamus Creek.” Grass-covered islets, innumerable to us as we passed by them, were on either side. When about half-way through this creek we encountered seven canoes, loaded with men, about to proceed to their fishing haunts. Our sudden meeting occasioned a panic among the natives, and as man had hitherto been a dreaded object, it occasioned us also not a little uneasiness. Fortunately, however, they retreated in haste, uttering their fearful “Yaha-ha-has,” and we steadily pursued our way down river, and about 3 P.M. emerged in view of the united stream, 4000 yards wide, contracted by the steep cultivated slopes of Bolobo on the left, and by a beautiful high upland—which had gradually been lifting from the level plains—on the right bank.

For a moment, as we issued in view of the stream, with scores of native canoes passing backwards and forwards, either fishing or proceeding to the grassy islets to their fish-sheds and salt-making, we feared that we should have another conflict; but though they looked at us wonderingly, there was no demonstration of hostility. One man in a canoe, in answer to our question, replied that the bold heights 200 feet above the river, which swarmed with villages, was Bolobo. Being so near the border of the savage lands above, we thought it safer to wait yet one more day before attempting further intercourse with them.

Feb. 27.—On the 27th, during the morning, we were still among islets and waving branches, but towards the afternoon the islets had disappeared, and we were in view of a magnificent breadth of four miles of clear water. On our left the cultivated uplands of Bolobo had become elevated into a line of wooded hills, and on our right the wall of the brown grassy upland rose high and steep, broken against the sky-line into cones.

Gradually the shores contracted, until at 3 P.M. the right bank deflected to a south-east course, and finally shot out a long rocky point, which to us, accustomed to an enormous breadth of river, appeared as though it were the commencement of a cataract. We approached it with the utmost caution, but on arriving near it we discovered that the mirage had exaggerated its length and height, for between it and the left bank were at least 2500 yards of deep water.

The time had now come when we could no longer sneak amongst reedy islets, or wander in secret amongst wildernesses of water; we must once more confront man. The native, as we had ascertained opposite Bolobo, was not the destructive infuriate of Irebu or Mompurengi, or the frantic brute of Mangala and Marunja. He appeared to be toning down into the MAN, and to understand that others of his species inhabited this globe. At least, we hoped so. We wished to test the accuracy of this belief, and now eagerly searched for opportunities to exchange greetings, and to claim kindred with him. As we had industriously collected a copious vocabulary of African languages, we felt a certain confidence that we had been sufficiently initiated into the science of aboriginal language to be able to begin practising it.

Behind the rocky point were three natives fishing for minnows with hand-nets. We lay-to on our oars and accosted them. They replied to us clearly and calmly. There was none of that fierce fluster and bluster and wild excitement that we had come to recognize as the preliminary symptoms of a conflict. The word ndu—brother—was more frequent. To our overtures of friendship there was a visible inclination of assent; there was a manifest desire to accept our conciliatory sentiments; for we received conciliatory responses. Who could doubt a pacific conclusion to the negotiations? Our tact and diplomacy had been educated in a rough school of adversity. Once the attention of the natives had been arrested, and their confidence obtained, we had never failed to come to a friendly understanding.

They showed us a camping-place at the base of the brown grassy upland, in the midst of a thin grove of trees. They readily subscribed to all the requirements of friendship, blood-brotherhood, and an exchange of a few small gifts. Two of them then crossed the river to Chumbiri, whose green wooded slopes and fields, and villages and landing-place, were visible, to tell the king of Chumbiri that peaceable strangers desired friendship with him. They appeared to have described us to him as most engaging people, and to have obtained his cordial co-operation and sympathy in a very short time, for soon three canoes appeared conveying about forty men, under three of his sons, who bore to us the royal spear, and several royal gifts, such as palm-wine, a goat, bananas, and a chicken to us, and a hearty welcome from the old king, their father, with the addition of a promise that he would call himself the next day.

Feb. 28.—About 9 A.M. of the 28th the king of Chumbiri appeared with éclat. Five canoes filled with musketeers escorted him.

Though the sketch above is an admirable likeness of him, it may be well also to append a verbal description. A small-eyed man of about fifty or thereabout, with a well-formed nose, but wide nostrils and thin lips, clean-shaved, or rather clean-plucked, with a quiet yet sociable demeanour, ceremonious, and mild-voiced, with the instincts of a greedy trader cropping out of him at all points, and cunning beyond measure. The type of his curious hat may be seen on the head of any Armenian priest. It was formed out of close-plaited hyphene-palm fibre, sufficiently durable to outlast his life, though he might live a century. From his left shoulder, across his chest, was suspended the sword of the bill-hook pattern, already described in the passages about Ikengo. Above his shoulder stood upright the bristles of an elephant’s tail. His hand was armed with a buffalo’s tail, made into a fly-flapper, to whisk mosquitoes and gnats off the royal face. To his wrist were attached the odds and ends which the laws of superstition had enjoined upon him, such as charm-gourds, charm-powders in bits of red and black flannel, and a collection of wooden antiquities, besides a snuff-gourd and a parcel of tobacco-leaves.

The king’s people were apparently very loyal and devoted to him, and his sons showed remarkable submissiveness. The little snuff-gourd was in constant requisition, and he took immoderate quantities, inhaling a quarter of a tea-spoonful at a time from the palm of his hand, to which he pressed his poor nose until it seemed to be forced into his forehead. Immediately after, one of his filially-affectionate children would fill his long chibouque, which was 6 feet in length, decorated with brass tacks and tassels of braided cloth. The bowl was of iron, and large enough to contain half an ounce of tobacco. He would then take two or three long-drawn whiffs, until his cheeks were distended like two hemispheres, and fumigate his charms thoroughly with the smoke. His sons then relieved him of the pipe, at which he snapped his fingers—and distended their cheeks into hemispherical protuberances in like manner, and also in the same way fumigated their little charms; and so the chibouque of peace and sociability went the round of the circle, as though it was a council of Sioux about to hold a pow-wow, and as the pipe passed round there was an interchange of finger-snaps in a decorous, grave, and ceremonious style.

Our intercourse with the king was very friendly, and it was apparent that we were mutually pleased. The only fault that I, as a stranger, could find in him was an excessive cunning, which approached to the sublime. He had evidently cultivated fraud and duplicity as an art, yet he was suave and wheedling. Could I complain? Never were people so willing to be victimized. Had we been warned that he would victimize us, I do not think that we should have refused his friendship.

An invitation was extended to us to make his own village our home. We were hungry; and no doubt we were approaching cataracts. It would be welcome knowledge to know what to expect below in that broad defile filled by the great river; what peoples, countries, tribes, villages, rivers we should see; if the tribes were amenable to reason in the unknown country; if white men had ever been heard of; if there were cataracts below, and if they were passable. We accepted the invitation, and crossed the river, drums and double bell-gongs sounding the peaceful advance of our flotilla upon Chumbiri.

We were proud of our reception by the dames of Chumbiri. Loyal and submissive to their king, they exhibited kindly attentions to the strangers. We held a grand market, and won the natives’ hearts by our liberality. Back rations for several days were due to our people, and, filled with an extravagant delight—even as Frank and I were—they expended their ration moneys with a recklessness of consequences which only the novelty of the situation explained. We had arrived at port, and weather-beaten voyagers are generally free with their moneys upon such occasions.

The dames at Chumbiri were worth seeing, even to us, who were sated with the thousand curious things we had met in our long travels. They were also pretty, of a rich brown colour many of them, large-eyed, and finely formed, with a graceful curve of shoulder I had not often observed. But they were slaves of fashion. Six-tenths of the females wore brass collars 2 inches in diameter; three-tenths had them 2½ inches in diameter; one-tenth were oppressed with collars 3 inches in diameter; which completely covered the neck, and nearly reached the shoulder ends. Fancy the weight of 30 lbs. of brass, soldered permanently round the neck! Yet these oppressed women were the favourite wives of Chumbiri! And they rejoiced in their oppression!

I believe that Chumbiri—who, as I said, was a keen and enterprising trader, the first aboriginal African that might be compared to a Parsee—as soon as he obtained any brass wire, melted it and forged it into brass collars for his wives. That the collars were not larger may be attributed, perhaps, to his poverty. He boasted to me he possessed “four tens” of wives, and each wife was collared permanently in thick brass. I made a rough calculation, and I estimated that his wives bore about their necks until death at least 800 lbs. of brass; his daughters—he had six—120 lbs.; his favourite female slaves about 200 lbs. Add 6 lbs. of brass wire to each wife and daughter for arm and leg ornaments, and one is astonished to discover that Chumbiri possesses a portable store of 1396 lbs. of brass.

I asked of Chumbiri what he did with the brass on the neck of a dead wife. Chumbiri smiled. Cunning rogue; he regarded me benevolently, as though he loved me for the searching question. Significantly he drew his finger across his throat.

The warriors and young men are distinguished for a characteristic style of hair-dressing, which belongs to Uyanzi alone. It is arranged into four separate plaits, two of which overhang the forehead like lovers’ curls. Another special mark of Uyanzi are two tattooed lines over the forehead. In whatever part of the lower Livingstone these peculiarities of style may be seen, they are indubitably Wy-yanzi, or natives of Uyanzi.

The country of Uyanzi embraces many small districts, and extends along the left bank of the great river, from Bolobo, in south latitude 2° 23′ 14″, to the confluence of the Ibari Nkutu, or river of Nkutu, and the Livingstone, in 3° 14′ south latitude. The principal districts are Bolobo, Isangu, Chumbiri, Musevoka, Misongo, and Ibaka. Opposite is the country of the Bateké, a wilder tribe than the Wy-yanzi, some of the more eastern of whom are professed cannibals. To the north is the cannibal tribe of the Wanfuninga, of ferocious repute, and dreaded by the Wy-yanzi and Bateké.

The language of Uyanzi seemed to us to be a mixture of almost all Central African dialects. Our great stock of native words in all dialects proved of immense use to me; and in three days I discovered, after classifying and comparing the words heard from the Wy-yanzi with other African words, that I was tolerably proficient, at least for all practical purposes, in the Kiyanzi dialect.

Mar. 7.—On the 7th March we parted from the friendly king of Chumbiri, with an escort of forty-five men, in three canoes under the leadership of his eldest son, who was instructed by his father to accompany us as far as the pool, now called Stanley Pool, because of an incident which will be described hereafter.

For some reason we crossed the river, and camped on the right bank, two miles below Chumbiri. At midnight the Wy-yanzi awoke us all by the fervour with which they implored their fetishes to guide us safely from camp to camp, which they named. As they had been very successful in charming away the rain with which we had been threatened the evening before, our people were delighted to hear them pray for success, having an implicit faith in them.

Just below our camp the river contracted to 2500 yards, between two high hilly banks, and 400 to 600 feet high.

Mar. 8.—A violent rain-storm began at 8 A.M. of the 8th, which lasted four hours. We then made a start, but after an hour of our company the escort lagged behind, but told us to continue our journey, as they would overtake us. Though I strongly suspected that the Wy-yanzi intended to abandon us, we could find no reasonable cause to doubt them, and therefore proceeded without them until near sunset. We camped in the midst of a dense jungly forest. About an hour after, the camp was alarmed by the shrieks of a boy, who was about to be attacked by a python, which vanished in the woods when the people rushed to the rescue. The boy said he had hailed it at first, imagining it to be one of his friends. In half an hour the python, or another one, was discovered in a different part of the camp, about to embrace a woman in its folds; but this time, after tremendous excitement, the monster was despatched. It measured only 13 feet 6 inches in length, and 15 inches round the thickest part of the body.

Mar. 9.—At early dawn we continued our journey along the right bank, and about 7 A.M. discovered a rapid river about two hundred and fifty yards wide, having two mouths, to which I have given the name of Lawson River, after Mr. Edward Levy Lawson. The water was of a very light colour.

The water of the Ikelemba river, which enters the Livingstone above Ikengo in about 12′ south latitude, did not commingle with that of its great recipient until both had flowed side by side in the same bed for about 130 miles, or near Bolobo. Its strong-tea-coloured water had now quite changed the complexion of the Livingstone; for, while above Bolobo it had a clear whitey-grey colour, it was now of a deep brown. The other tea-coloured rivers, such as the Ruiki, Kasuku, and Black, above the Stanley Falls, had soon become absorbed by the waters of the Livingstone.

Below the last affluent the Livingstone narrowed to 1500 yards, and flowed with a perceptibly quickened current through the deep chasm in the table-land, the slopes of which were mostly uninhabited; but on the summit near the verge, on either side, villages, banana plantations, and other signs of population were visible.

I tossed my lead into the stream in this comparatively narrow channel, and obtained at the first cast 158 feet; half an hour afterwards I obtained 163; a third time, 79 feet.

On our left, in south latitude 3° 14′ 4″, we came to the Ibari (river) Nkutu, issuing from east-north-east through a deepening cleft in the table-land, and 450 yards wide at the mouth, a powerful and deep river. There is no doubt that this Ibari-Nkutu is the Coango or Kwango of the Portuguese, the sources of which Livingstone crossed, on his way to Loanda in 1854, and which takes its rise in the watershed that separates the basin of the great river from that of the Zambezi.

Six miles below the confluence of the Nkutu river with the Livingstone we drew our vessels close to a large and thick grove, to cook breakfast, and with a faint hope that in the meantime our guides would appear. Fires were kindled, and the women were attending to the porridge of cassava flour for their husbands. Frank and I were hungrily awaiting our cook’s voice to announce our meal ready, when, close to us, several loud musket-shots startled us all, and six of our men fell wounded. Though we were taken considerably at a disadvantage, long habit had taught us how to defend ourselves in a bush, and a desperate fight began, and lasted an hour, ending in the retreat of the savages, but leaving us with fourteen of our men wounded. This was our thirty-second fight, and last.

After the wounded had been tended, and breakfast despatched, we proceeded down river, and two miles below we discovered the settlement to which our late antagonists belonged. But we continued our journey until 2 P.M., when, coming to a small island, we disembarked. At 4 P.M. our long absent guides appeared, and, as they were disinclined to halt, we followed them down river, until they stopped at a large settlement called Mwana Ibaka, which occupied a low semi-circular terrace at the base of tall hills. Imagining that there was not the slightest fear of a rupture after being heralded by our friends, we steered for the shore; but as we approached, the shore swarmed with hundreds of excited men, with brass-banded muskets in their hands. Through sheer surprise at the frantic savagery so suddenly displayed, we floated down dangerously near the aiming men, before we observed that our guides were making violent gestures for us to move off. This recalled us to our senses, and we rowed away before the fierce people had drawn trigger. Three miles below we encamped on the right bank, and at sunset our guides appeared, but halted on the left bank.

Mar. 10.—On the morning of the 10th, at 6 A.M., the downward voyage was continued, between lofty and picturesque shores, here bold and precipitous, there wooded from base to summit—here great hill shoulders sloping abruptly to the edge of the deep river, there retreating into wooded valleys between opposing ridges. Our guides overtook us, but they would hold no conversation with us, until, arriving at the woods of NdandéNdandé-Njoko, at 10 A.M., they changed their minds, crossed over to the right bank, and halted for breakfast. We also stopped, and renewed our intercourse with them, while they began vehemently to excuse themselves from being the cause of Mwana Ibaka’s outrageously wild conduct, and of not warning us of the murderous community which had attacked us in the grove the day previous, and which had caused us such a grievous loss. We excused them gladly, and then took an opportunity of promising more brass wire to them if they would accompany us to the cataract; but our friends required it in advance. But having already been paid at Chumbiri most bounteously for services which they had as yet shown no disposition to give, and as we felt assured they would not fulfil any new engagement, we resolved to depend upon ourselves.

When I came to reflect upon the manner we had been treated above river by the cannibals who had netted us in at the Sixth Cataract of the Stanley Falls, and the extraordinarily cunning king of Chumbiri and his sons, I perceived that the conduct of both had alike sprung from contempt of people of whom they knew nothing. Though I have seen five hundred African chiefs, it may not be amiss to record here my firm belief that the mild-voiced king of Chumbiri is the most plausible rogue of all Africa.

Near sunset we camped in a little cove below precipitous red cliffs, which had contracted the river to 1000 yards in width. The upper parts of these cliffs consisted of hard grey sandstone, overlying a soft red sandstone.

Mar. 11.—The 11th of March was passed without further incident than the usual storm—south-wester—which blew almost every day, and often made the river dangerous to low-board river canoes. The river was very deep, and flowed with a current of 3 knots an hour, and varied in width from 1000 to 1400 yards, pent in by the steep but wooded slopes of the hilly ridges that rose to the height of 600 feet above us. Red buffaloes and small antelope were abundant on the right bank, but not even a shot dared we fire, lest it might startle some frenzied savage to sound the call to war, and so alarm the people at the cataract the terrors of which we were constantly exaggerating in our thoughts.

Mar. 12.—About 11 A.M. of the 12th, the river gradually expanded from 1400 yards to 2500 yards, which admitted us in view of a mighty breadth of river, which the men at once, with happy appropriateness, termed “a pool.” Sandy islands rose in front of us like a sea-beach, and on the right towered a long row of cliffs, white and glistening, so like the cliffs of Dover that Frank at once exclaimed that it was a bit of England. The grassy table-land above the cliffs appeared as green as a lawn, and so much reminded Frank of Kentish Downs that he exclaimed enthusiastically, “I feel we are nearing home.”

While taking an observation at noon of the position, Frank, with my glass in his hand, ascended the highest part of the large sandy dune that had been deposited by the mighty river, and took a survey of its strange and sudden expansion, and after he came back he said, “Why, I declare, sir, this place is just like a pool; as broad as it is long. There are mountains all round it, and it appears to me almost circular.”^[12]

“Well, if it is a pool, we must distinguish it by some name. Give me a suitable name for it, Frank.”

“Why not call it ‘Stanley Pool,’ and these cliffs ‘Dover Cliffs’? For no traveller who may come here again will fail to recognize the cliffs by that name.”

Subsequent events brought these words vividly to my recollection, and in accordance with Frank’s suggestion I have named this lake-like expansion of the river from Dover Cliffs to the first cataract of the Livingstone Falls—embracing about thirty square miles—the Stanley Pool. The latitude of the entrance from above to the pool was ascertained to be 4° 3′ south latitude.

The left shore is occupied by the populous settlements of Nshasa, Nkunda, and Ntamo. The right is inhabited by the wild Bateké, who are generally accused of being cannibals.

Soon after we began our descent of the pool, skirting the right shore, we observed a chalky mount, near which were two or three columns of the same material. From a cove just below emerged two or three Bateké canoes, the crews of which, after collecting their faculties, consented to show us the cataract, the noise of which, as they attempted to describe it, elicited roars of laughter from the members of the Expedition. This outburst of loud merriment conquered all reluctance on the part of the Bateké to accompany us.

After winding in and out of many creeks which were very shallow, we approached the village of Mankoneh, the chief of the Bateké. His people during the daytime are generally scattered over these sandy dunes of the Stanley Pool attending to their nets and fish-snares, and to protect themselves from the hot sun always take with them several large mats to form sheds. Mankoneh, to our great delight, was a bluff, hearty, genial soul, who expressed unbounded pleasure at seeing us; he also volunteered to guide us to the falls. He was curious to know how we proposed travelling after arriving near them, for it was impossible, he said, to descend the falls. By a ludicrous pantomime he led us to understand that they were something very fearful.

A few hundred yards below his village the pool sharply contracted, and the shore of Ntamo—a projecting point from the crescent-shaped ridge beyond—appeared at a distance of 2000 yards. It was then that we heard for the first time the low and sullen thunder of the first cataract of the Livingstone Falls.

Slowly Mankoneh, in his canoe, glided down towards it, and louder it grew on the ears, until when within one hundred yards of the first line of broken water he pointed forward, and warned us not to proceed farther. We made for the shore, and found ourselves on a narrow ledge-like terrace bristling with great blocks of granite, amidst a jungly tangle, which grew at the base of high hills. Here, after a short busy period with axe and machete, we constructed a rude camp. The only level spot was not six feet square.

Mankoneh, the Bateké chief, pointed out to us the village of Itsi, the chief of Ntamo, which is situate on the left bank, in a line with the beginning of the first cataract, and spoke of Itsi with great respect, as though he were very powerful.

About 5 P.M. a small canoe was observed to cross over to our side from the left bank, a mile above the falls. The canoe-men, through the representations of our hearty friend Mankoneh, were soon induced to land in our camp to converse with the white men, and before long we had succeeded in making them feel quite at home with us. As they were in a quiver of anxious desire to impart to the chief Itsi all the wonderful things they had witnessed with us, they departed about sunset, solemnly promising we should see the famous Itsi of Ntamo next morning.

Lashing our canoes firmly lest an accident should happen during the night, we turned to our rude huts to sleep in peace. We were all very hungry, as we had been able to purchase nothing from the natives since leaving Chumbiri five days before, and we had been more than usually improvident, having placed far too much reliance on the representations so profusely made to us by the mild-voiced but cunning king of Chumbiri. From very shame I refrain from publishing the stores of goods with which I purchased the glib promises of assistance from Chumbiri, not one of which were realized.

Mar. 13.—Morning of the 13th of March found us, from the early hours of dawn, anxiously waiting the arrival of Itsi of Ntamo and the reappearance of Mankoneh. From our camp we might easily with a glass note any movement on the other bank. At 9 A.M.—Itsi evidently was not an early riser—a large canoe and two consorts, laden with men, were seen propelled up stream along the left bank, and a mile above the landing-place to cross the river at a furious pace. The rows of upright figures, with long paddles, bending their bodies forward in unison, and their voices rising in a swelling chorus to the sound of the steady beat of a large drum, formed a pretty and inspiring sight. Arriving at the right bank, with a perfect recklessness of the vicinity of the falls, they dashed down towards our camp at the rate of six knots an hour. The large war-canoe, though not quite equal to the monster of the Aruwimi in size, was a noble vessel, and Itsi, who was seated in state “mid-ship,” with several grey-headed elders near him, was conscious, when he saw our admiration, that he had created a favourable impression. She measured 85 feet 7 inches in length, 4 feet in width, and was 3 feet 3 inches deep. Her crew consisted of sixty paddlers and four steersmen, and she carried twenty-two passengers, close-packed, besides, making a total of eighty-six persons. The other two canoes carried ninety-two persons altogether. We cordially invited Itsi and his people to our camp, to which they willingly responded. Some grass, fresh cut, in anticipation of the visit of our honourable friends, had been strewn over a cleared space close to the stream, and our best mats spread over it.

There were four or five grey-headed elders present, one of whom was introduced as Itsi. He laughed heartily, and it was not long before we were on a familiar footing. They then broached the subject of blood-brotherhood. We were willing, but they wished to defer the ceremony until they had first shown their friendly feelings to us. Accordingly the old man handed over to me ten loaves of cassava bread, or cassava pudding, fifty tubers of cassava, three bunches of bananas, a dozen sweet potatoes, some sugar-cane, three fowls, and a diminutive goat. A young man of about twenty-six years made Frank’s acquaintance by presenting to him double the quantity I received. This liberality drew my attention to him. His face was dotted with round spots of soot-and-oil mixture. From his shoulders depended a long cloth of check pattern, while over one shoulder was a belt, to which was attached a queer medley of small gourds containing snuff and various charms, which he called his Inkisi. In return for the bounteous stores of provisions given to Frank and myself, as they were cotton- or grass-cloth-wearing people, we made up a bundle of cloths for each of the principals, which they refused, to our surprise. We then begged to know what they desired, that we might show our appreciation of their kindness, and seal the bond of brotherhood with our blood.

The young man now declared himself to be Itsi, the king of Ntamo; the elder, who had previously been passed off for the king, being only an ancient councillor.

It was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one, though there was nothing very regal or majestic about him, unless one may so call his munificent bounty to Frank, as compared to the old man’s to me. We finally prevailed upon Itsi to inform us what gift would be pleasing to him.

He said, “I want only that big goat; if you give me that, I shall want nothing more.”

The “big goat” which he so earnestly required was the last of six couples I had purchased in Uregga for the purpose of presentation to an eminent English lady, in accordance with a promise I had made to her four years previously. All the others had perished from heat apoplexy, sickness, and want of proper care, which the terrible life we had led had prevented us from supplying. This “big goat” and a lion-like ram, gigantic specimens of the domestic animals of Manyema and Uregga, were all that survived. They had both become quite attached to us, and were valued companions of a most eventful journey of 1100 miles. I refused it, but offered to double the cloths. Whereupon Itsi sulked, and prepared to depart, not, however, before hinting that we should find it difficult to obtain food if he vetoed the sale of provisions. We coaxed him back again to his seat, and offered him one of the asses.

The possession of such a “gigantic” animal as an ass, which was to him of all domestic animals a veritable Titanosaurus, was a great temptation; but the shuddering women, who feared being eaten by it, caused him to decline the honour of the gift. He now offered three goats for what appeared to him to be the “largest” goat in Africa, and boasted of his goodness, and how his friendship would be serviceable to me, whereas, if he parted in anger, why, we should be entirely at his mercy. The goat was therefore transferred to his canoe, and Itsi departed for Ntamo as though he were in possession of a new wonder.

Our provisions were only sufficient to prove what appetites we possessed, and not to assuage them: all were consumed in a few minutes, and we were left with only hopes of obtaining a little more on the next day.

Mar. 14.—On the 14th Itsi appeared with his war-canoe at 9 A.M., bringing three goats and twenty loaves of cassava bread and a few tubers, and an hour afterwards Nchuvira, king of Nkunda, Mankoneh, chief of the Bateké fishermen near the Stanley Pool, and the king of Nshasa, at the south-east end of the Stanley Pool, arrived at our camp with several canoe crews. Each of the petty sovereigns of the districts in our neighbourhood contributed a little, but altogether we were only able to distribute to each person 2 lbs. of eatable provisions. Every chief was eager for a present, with which he was gratified, and solemn covenants of peace were entered into between the whites and the blacks. The treaty with Itsi was exceedingly ceremonious, and involved the exchange of charms. Itsi transferred to me, for my protection through life, a small gourdful of a curious powder, which had rather a saline taste, and I delivered over to him, as the white man’s charm against all evil, a half-ounce vial of magnesia; further, a small scratch in Frank’s arm, and another in Itsi’s arm, supplied blood sufficient to unite us in one and indivisible bond of fraternity. After this we were left alone.

An observation by boiling-point, above the First Cataract of the Livingstone Falls, disclosed to us an altitude of 1147 feet above the ocean. At Nyangwé the river was 2077 feet. In 1235 miles therefore there had been only a reduction of 930 feet, divided as follows:—