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

The struggle with the river renewed—Passing the “Father”—In the “Cauldron”—Poor Kalulu!—Soudi’s strange adventures—At the “Whirlpool Narrows”—Lady Alice Rapids—Our escape from death—“Isles of Eden”—Thieves amongst us—The Inkisi Falls—The canoes dragged over the mountain—Trade along the Livingstone—Ulcers and entozoa—An artful compound.

Mar. 15.—The wide wild land which, by means of the greatest river of Africa, we have pierced, is now about to be presented in a milder aspect than that which has filled the preceding pages with records of desperate conflicts and furious onslaughts of savage men. The people no longer resist our advance. Trade has tamed their natural ferocity, until they no longer resent our approach with the fury of beasts of prey.

It is the dread river itself of which we shall have now to complain. It is no longer the stately stream whose mystic beauty, noble grandeur, and gentle uninterrupted flow along a course of nearly nine hundred miles, ever fascinated us, despite the savagery of its peopled shores, but a furious river rushing down a steep bed obstructed by reefs of lava, projected barriers of rock, lines of immense boulders, winding in crooked course through deep chasms, and dropping down over terraces in a long series of falls, cataracts, and rapids. Our frequent contests with the savages culminated in tragic struggles with the mighty river as it rushed and roared through the deep, yawning pass that leads from the broad table-land down to the Atlantic Ocean.

Those voiceless and lone streams meandering between the thousand isles of the Livingstone; those calm and silent wildernesses of water over which we had poured our griefs and wailed in our sorrow; those woody solitudes, where nightly we had sought to soothe our fevered brows, into whose depths we breathed our vows; that sea-like amplitude of water which had proved our refuge in distress, weird in its stillness, and solemn in its mystery, are now exchanged for the cliff-lined gorge, through which with inconceivable fury the Livingstone sweeps with foaming billows into the broad Congo, which, at a distance of only 155 geographical miles, is nearly 1100 feet below the summit of the first fall.

Mar. 16.—On the 16th of March, having explored as far as the Gordon-Bennett River, and obtained a clear idea of our situation during the 15th, we began our labours with energy. Goods, asses, women, and children, with the guard under Frank, first moved overland to a temporary halting-place near the confluence. Then manning the boat, I led the canoe-men from point to point along the right bank, over the first rapids. We had some skilful work to perform to avoid being swept away by the velocity of the current; but whenever we came to rocks we held the rattan hawsers in our hands, and, allowing the stream to take them beyond these dangerous points, brought them into the sheltered lee. Had a hawser parted nothing could have saved the canoe or the men in it, for at the confluence of the Gordon-Bennett with the great river the entire river leaps headlong into an abyss of waves and foam. Arriving in the Gordon-Bennett, we transported the Expedition across, and then our labours ended at 5 P.M. for the day.

Itsi of Ntamo had informed us there were only three cataracts, which he called the “Child,” the “Mother,” and the “Father.” The “Child” was a two hundred yards’ stretch of broken water; and the “Mother,” consisting of half a mile of dangerous rapids, we had succeeded in passing, and had pushed beyond it by crossing the upper branch of the Gordon-Bennett, which was an impetuous stream, 75 yards wide, with big cataracts of its own higher up. But the “Father” is the wildest stretch of river that I have ever seen. Take a strip of sea blown over by a hurricane, four miles in length and half a mile in breadth, and a pretty accurate conception of its leaping waves may be obtained. Some of the troughs were 100 yards in length, and from one to the other the mad river plunged. There was first a rush down into the bottom of an immense trough, and then, by its sheer force, the enormous volume would lift itself upward steeply until, gathering itself into a ridge, it suddenly hurled itself 20 or 30 feet straight upward, before rolling down into another trough. If I looked up or down along this angry scene, every interval of 50 or 100 yards of it was marked by wave-towers—their collapse into foam and spray, the mad clash of watery hills, bounding mounds and heaving billows, while the base of either bank, consisting of a long line of piled boulders of massive size, was buried in the tempestuous surf. The roar was tremendous and deafening. I can only compare it to the thunder of an express train through a rock tunnel. To speak to my neighbour, I had to bawl in his ear.

The most powerful ocean steamer, going at full speed on this portion of the river, would be as helpless as a cockle-boat. I attempted three times, by watching some tree floated down from above, to ascertain the rate of the wild current, by observing the time it occupied in passing between two given points, from which I estimate it to be about thirty miles an hour!

Mar. 17.—On the 17th, after cutting brushwood and laying it over a path of 800 yards in length, we crossed from the upper branch of the Gordon-Bennett to the lower branch, which was of equal breadth, but 20 feet below it. This enabled us the next day to float down to the confluence of the lower branch with the Livingstone. We could do no more on this day; the people were fainting from lack of food.

Mar. 18.—On the 18th, through the goodwill of Mankoneh, the chief of the Bateké, we were enabled to trade with the aborigines, a wild and degraded tribe, subsisting principally on fish and cassava. A goat was not to be obtained at any price, and for a chicken they demanded a gun! Cassava, however, was abundant.

From the confluence we formed another brush-covered road, and hauled the canoes over another 800 yards into a creek, which enabled us to reach, on the 20th, a wide sand-bar that blocked its passage into the great river. The sand-bar, in its turn, enabled us to reach the now moderated stream, below the influence of the roaring “Father,” and to proceed by towing and punting half a mile below to an inlet in the rocky shore.

Gampa, the young chief of this district, became very friendly, and visited us each day with small gifts of cassava bread, a few bananas, and a small gourd of palm-wine.

Mar. 21.—On the 21st and the two days following we were engaged in hauling our vessels overland, a distance of three-quarters of a mile, over a broad rocky point, into a bay-like formation. Gampa and his people nerved us to prosecute our labours by declaring that there was only one small cataract below. Full of hope, we halted on the 24th to rest the wearied people, and in the meantime to trade for food.

Mar. 25.—The 25th saw us at work at dawn in a bad piece of river, which is significantly styled the “Cauldron.” Our best canoe, 75 feet long, 3 feet wide, by 21 inches deep, the famous London Town, commanded by Manwa Sera, was torn from the hands of fifty men, and swept away in the early morning down to destruction. In the afternoon, the Glasgow, parting her cables, was swept away, drawn nearly into mid-river, returned up river half a mile, again drawn into the depths, ejected into a bay near where Frank was camped, and, to our great joy, finally recovered. Accidents were numerous; the glazed trap rocks, washed by the ever-rising tidal-like waves, were very slippery, occasioning dangerous falls to the men. One man dislocated his shoulder, another was bruised on the hips, and another had a severe contusion of the head. Too careless of my safety in my eagerness and anxiety, I fell down, feet first, into a chasm 30 feet deep between two enormous boulders, but fortunately escaped with only a few rib bruises, though for a short time I was half stunned.

Mar. 27.—On the 27th we happily succeeded in passing the fearful Cauldron, but during our last efforts the Crocodile, 85 feet 3 inches long, was swept away into the centre of the Cauldron, heaved upward, whirled round with quick gyrations, and finally shot into the bay north of Rocky Island, where it was at last secured. The next day we dropped down stream, and reached the western end of the bay above Rocky Island Falls.

Leaving Frank Pocock as usual in charge of the camp and goods, I mustered ninety men—most of the others being stiff from wounds received in the fight at Mwana Ibaka and other places—and proceeded, by making a wooden tramway with sleepers and rollers, to pass Rocky Island Falls. Mpwapwa and Shumari, of the boat’s crew, were sent to explore meanwhile, for another inlet or recess in the right bank. By 2 P.M. we were below the falls, and my two young men had returned, reporting that a mile or so below there was a fine camp, with a broad strip of sand lining a bay. This animated us to improve the afternoon hours by attempting to reach it. The seventeen canoes now left to us were manned according to their capacity. As I was about to embark in my boat to lead the way, I turned to the people to give my last instructions—which were, to follow me, clinging to the right bank, and by no means to venture into mid-river into the current. While delivering my instructions, I observed Kalulu in the Crocodile, which was made out of the Bassia Parkii tree, a hard heavy wood, but admirable for canoes. When I asked him what he wanted in the canoe, he replied, with a deprecating smile and an expostulating tone, “I can pull, sir; see!” “Ah, very well,” I answered.

The boat-boys took their seats, and, skirting closely the cliffy shore, we rowed down stream, while I stood in the bow of the boat, guiding the coxswain, Uledi, with my hand. The river was not more than 450 yards wide; but one cast of the sounding-lead close to the bank obtained a depth of 138 feet. The river was rapid, with certainly a 7-knot current, with a smooth greasy surface, now and then an eddy, a gurgle, and gentle heave, but not dangerous to people in possession of their wits. In a very few moments we had descended the mile stretch, and before us, 600 yards off, roared the furious falls since distinguished by the name “Kalulu.”

With a little effort we succeeded in rounding the point and entering the bay above the falls, and reaching a pretty camping-place on a sandy beach. The first, second, and third canoes arrived soon after me, and I was beginning to congratulate myself on having completed a good day’s work, when to my horror I saw the Crocodile in mid-river far below the point which we had rounded, gliding with the speed of an arrow towards the falls over the treacherous calm water. Human strength availed nothing now, and we watched it in agony, for I had three favourites in her—Kalulu, Mauredi, and Ferajji; and of the others, two, Rehani Makua and Wadi Jumah, were also very good men. It soon reached the island which cleft the falls, and was swept down the left branch. We saw it whirled round three or four times, then plunged down into the depths, out of which the stern presently emerged pointed upward, and we knew then that Kalulu and his canoe-mates were no more.

Fast upon this terrible catastrophe, before we could begin to bewail their loss, another canoe with two men in it darted past the point, borne by irresistibly on the placid but swift current to apparent, nay, almost certain destruction. I despatched my boat’s crew up along the cliffs to warn the forgetful people that in mid-stream was certain death, and shouted out commands for the two men to strike for the left shore. The steersman by a strange chance shot his canoe over the falls, and, dexterously edging his canoe towards the left shore a mile below, he and his companion contrived to spring ashore and were saved. As we observed them clamber over the rocks to approach a point opposite us, and finally sit down, regarding us in silence across the river, our pity and love gushed strong towards them, but we could utter nothing of it. The roar of the falls completely mocked and overpowered the feeble human voice.

Before the boat’s crew could well reach the descending canoes, the boulders being very large and offering great obstacles to rapid progress, a third canoe—but a small and light one—with only one man, the brave lad Soudi, who escaped from the spears of the Wanyaturu assassins in 1875, darted by, and cried out, as he perceived himself to be drifting helplessly towards the falls, “La il Allah, il Allah” (There is but one God), “I am lost, Master?” He was then seen to address himself to what fate had in store for him. We watched him for a few moments, and then saw him drop. Out of the shadow of the fall he presently emerged, dropping from terrace to terrace, precipitated down, then whirled round, caught by great heavy waves, which whisked him to right and left, and struck madly at him, and yet his canoe did not sink, but he and it were swept behind the lower end of the island, and then darkness fell upon the day of horror. Nine men lost in one afternoon!

This last accident, I was told, was caused by the faithlessness of the crew. One man, utterly unnerved by his fear of the river, ran away and hid in the bushes; the two others lost their hold of the tow-ropes, and thus their comrade was carried into the swift centre.

Mar. 30.—On the 30th of March a messenger was despatched to Frank to superintend the transport of the goods overland to where I had arrived with the boat. The natives continued to be very amiable, and food was abundant and cheap. They visited our camp from morning to night, bringing their produce from a great distance. They are a very gentle and harmless tribe the Western Bateké, and distinguishable by four cicatrices down each cheek. They are also remarkable for their numerous bird-snares—bird lime being furnished by the Ficus sycamorus—and traps. About sunset a wide-spreading flock of large birds like parrots passed north-east over our camp, occupying nearly half an hour in passing. They were at too great an altitude to be recognized. Lead-coloured water-snakes were very numerous, the largest being about 7 feet in length and 2½ inches in diameter.

Confined within the deep narrow valley of the river, the hills rising to the height of about 800 feet above us, and exposed to the continued uproar of the river, we became almost stunned during our stay of the 31st.

April 1.—On the 1st of April we cleared the Kalulu Falls, and camped on the right bank below them. Our two absentees on the left side had followed us, and were signalling frequently to us, but we were helpless. The next day we descended a mile and a half of rapids, and in the passage one more canoe was lost, which reduced our flotilla to thirteen vessels.

About 2 P.M., to the general joy, appeared young Soudi and our two absentees, who the day before had been signalling us from the opposite side of the river!

Soudi’s adventures had been very strange. He had been swept down over the upper and lower Kalulu Falls and the intermediate rapids, and had been whirled round so often that he became confused. “But clinging to my canoe,” he said, “the wild river carried me down and down, and down from place to place, sometimes near a rock, and sometimes near the middle of the stream, until an hour after dark, when I saw it was near a rock; I jumped out, and, catching my canoe, drew it on shore. I had scarcely finished when my arms were seized, and I was bound by two men, who hurried me up to the top of the mountain, and then for an hour over the high land, until we came to a village. They then pushed me into a house, where they lit a fire, and when it was bright they stripped me naked and examined me. Though I pretended not to understand them, I knew enough to know that they were proud of their prize. They spoke kindly to me, and gave me plenty to eat; and while one of them slept, the other watched sharp lest I should run away. In the morning it was rumoured over the village that a handsome slave was captured from a strange tribe, and many people came to see me, one of whom had seen us at Ntamo and recognized me. This man immediately charged the two men with having stolen one of the white man’s men, and he drew such a picture of you, master, with large eyes of fire and long hair, who owned a gun that shot all day, that all the people became frightened, and compelled the two men to take me back to where they had found me. They at once returned me my clothes, and brought me to the place near where I had tied my canoe. They then released me, saying, ‘Go to your king; here is food for you; and do not tell him what we have done to you; but tell him you met friends who saved you, and it shall be well with us.’”

The other two men, seeking for means to cross the river, met Soudi sitting by his canoe. The three became so encouraged at one another’s presence that they resolved to cross the river rather than endure further anxiety in a strange land. Despair gave them courage, and though the river was rapid, they succeeded in crossing a mile below the place they had started from, without accident.

April 3.—On the 3rd of April we descended another mile and a half of dangerous rapids, during which several accidents occurred. One canoe was upset which contained fifty tusks of ivory and a sack of beads. Four men had narrow escapes from drowning, but Uledi, my coxswain, saved them. I myself tumbled headlong into a small basin, and saved myself with difficulty from being swept away by the receding tide.

Our system of progress was to begin each day with Frank leading the Expedition overland to a camp at the head of some inlet, cove, or recess, near rapids or falls, where, with the older men, women, and children, he constructed a camp; the working party, consisting of the younger men, returning to assist me with the canoes down to the new camp. Anxious for the safety of the people, I superintended the river work myself, and each day led the way in the boat. On approaching rapids I selected three or four of the boat’s crew (and always Uledi, the coxswain), and clambered along the great rocks piled along the base of the steeply sloping hills, until I had examined the scene. If the rapids or fall were deemed impassable by water, I planned the shortest and safest route across the projecting points, and then, mustering the people, strewed a broad track with bushes, over which, as soon as completed, we set to work to haul our vessels beyond the dangerous water, when we lowered them into the water, and pursued our way to camp, where Frank would be ready to give me welcome, and such a meal as the country afforded.

At Gamfwé’s the natives sold us abundance of bread, or rolls of pudding, of cassava flour, maize, cassava leaves, water-cresses, and a small Strychnos fruit and, for the first time, lemons. Fowls were very dear, and a goat was too expensive a luxury in our now rapidly impoverishing state.

April 8.—On the 8th we descended from Gamfwé’s to “Whirlpool Narrows,” opposite Umvilingya. When near there we perceived that the eddy tides, which rushed up river along the bank, required very delicate and skilful manœuvring. I experimented on the boat first, and attempted to haul her by cables round a rocky point from the bay near Whirlpool Narrows. Twice they snapped ropes and cables, and the second time the boat flew up river, borne on the crests of brown waves, with only Uledi and two men in her. Presently she wheeled into the bay, following the course of the eddy, and Uledi brought her in-shore. The third time we tried the operation with six cables of twisted rattan, about 200 feet in length, with five men to each cable. The rocks rose singly in precipitous masses 50 feet above the river, and this extreme height increased the difficulty and rendered footing precarious, for furious eddies of past pages had drilled deep circular pits, like ovens, in them, 4, 6, even 10 feet deep. However, with the utmost patience we succeeded in rounding these enormous blocks, and hauling the boat against the uneasy eddy tide to where the river resumed its natural downward flow. Below this, as I learned, were some two miles of boisterous water; but mid-river, though foaming in places, was not what we considered dangerous. We therefore resolved to risk it in mid-stream, and the boat’s crew, never backward when they knew what lay in front of them, manned the boat, and in fifteen minutes we had taken her into a small creek near Umvilingya’s landing, which ran up river between a ridge of rocks and the right bank. This act instilled courage into the canoe-men, and the boat-boys having voluntered to act as steersmen, with Frank as leader, all manned the canoes next morning, and succeeded in reaching my camp in good time without accident, though one canoe was taken within 200 yards of Round Island Falls, between Isameh’s and Umvilingya’s.

At this place Frank and I treated ourselves to a pig, which we purchased from the chief Umvilingya for four cloths, we having been more than two weeks without meat.

April 10.—On the 10th, having, because of illness, entrusted the boat to Manwa Sera and Uledi, they managed to get her jammed between two rocks near the entrance to Gavubu’s Cove, and, as the after-section was sunk for a time, it appeared that the faithful craft would be lost here after her long and wonderful journey. Springing from my bed upon hearing of the threatened calamity, I mustered twenty active men and hastened to the scene, and soon, by inspiring every man to do his best, we were able to lift her out of her dangerous position, and take her to camp apparently uninjured.

April 11.—The lower end of Gavubu’s Cove was reached on the 11th, and the next day by noon the land party and canoes were taken safely to the lower end of Gamfwé’s Bay. As our means were rapidly diminishing in this protracted struggle we maintained against the natural obstacles to our journey, we could only hope to reach the sea by resolute and continual industry during every hour of daylight. I accordingly instructed the canoe-men to be ready to follow me, as soon as they should be informed by a messenger that the boat had safely arrived in camp.

The commencement of “Lady Alice Rapids” was marked by a broad fall, and an interruption to the rapidly rushing river by a narrow ridgy islet of great rocks, which caused the obstructed stream to toss its waters in lateral waves against the centre, where they met waves from the right bank, and overlapping formed a lengthy dyke of foaming water.

Strong cane cables were lashed to the bow and stern, and three men were detailed to each, while five men assisted me in the boat. A month’s experience of this kind of work had made us skilful and bold. But the rapids were more powerful, the river was much more contracted, and the impediments were greater than usual. On our right was an upright wall of massive boulders terminating in a narrow terrace 300 feet high; behind the terrace, at a little distance, rose the rude hills to the height of 1200 feet above the river; above the hills rolled the table-land. On our left, 400 yards from the bouldery wall, rose a lengthy and stupendous cliff line topped by a broad belt of forest, and at its base rose three rocky islets, one below another, against which the river dashed itself, disparting with a roaring surge.

We had scarcely ventured near the top of the rapids when, by a careless slackening of the stern cable, the current swept the boat from the hands of that portion of her crew whose duty it was to lower her carefully and cautiously down the fall, to the narrow line of ebb flood below the rocky projection. Away into the centre of the angry, foaming, billowy stream the boat darted, dragging one man into the maddened flood, to whom, despite our awful position, I was able to lend a hand and lift into the boat.

“Oars, my boys, and be steady! Uledi, to the helm!” were all the instructions I was able to shout, after which, standing at the bow of the boat, I guided the coxswain with my hand; for now, as we rode downwards furiously on the crests of the proud waves, the human voice was weak against the overwhelming thunder of the angry river. Oars were only useful to assist the helm, for we were flying at a terrific speed past the series of boulders which strangled the river. Never did the rocks assume such hardness, such solemn grimness and bigness, never were they invested with such terrors and such grandeur of height, as while we were the cruel sport and prey of the brown-black waves, which whirled us round like a spinning top, swung us aside, almost engulfed us in the rapidly subsiding troughs, and then hurled us upon the white, rageful crests of others. Ah! with what feelings we regarded this awful power which the great river had now developed! How we cringed under its imperious, compelling, and irresistible force! What lightning retrospects we cast upon our past lives! How impotent we felt before it!

“La il Allah, il Allah!” screamed young Mabruki. “We are lost!—yes, we are lost!”

After two miles we were abreast of the bay, or indentation, at which we had hoped to camp, but the strong river mocked our efforts to gain it. The flood was resolved we should taste the bitterness of death. A sudden rumbling noise, like the deadened sound of an earthquake, caused us to look below, and we saw the river heaved bodily upward, as though a volcano was about to belch around us. Up to the summit of this watery mound we were impelled; and then, divining what was about to take place, I shouted out, “Pull, men, for your lives!” A few frantic strokes drove us to the lower side of the mound, and before it had finished subsiding, and had begun its usual fatal circling, we were precipitated over a small fall, and sweeping down towards the inlet into which the Nkenké Cataract tumbled, below the lowest lines of breakers of the Lady Alice Rapids. Once or twice we were flung scornfully aside, and spun around contemptuously, as though we were too insignificant to be wrecked; then, availing ourselves of a calm moment, we resumed our oars, and soon entering the ebb-tide, rowed up river and reached the sandy beach at the junction of the Nkenké with the Livingstone. Arriving on shore, I despatched Uledi and young Shumari to run to meet the despairing people above, who had long before this been alarmed by the boat-boys, whose carelessness had brought about this accident, and by the sympathizing natives who had seen us, as they reported, sink in the whirlpools. In about an hour a straggling line of anxious souls appeared; and all that love of life and living things, with the full sense of the worth of living, returned to my heart, as my faithful followers rushed up one after another with their exuberant welcome to life which gushed out of them in gesture, feature, and voice. And Frank, my amiable and trusty Frank, was neither last nor least in his professions of love and sympathy, and gratitude to Him who had saved us from a watery grave.

The land party then returned with Frank to remove the goods to our new camp, and by night my tent was pitched within a hundred yards of the cataract mouth of the Nkenké. We had four cataracts in view of us: the great river which emptied itself into the bay-like expanse from the last line of the Lady Alice Rapids; two miles below, the river fell again, in a foamy line of waves; from the tall cliffs south of us tumbled a river 400 feet into the great river; and on our right, 100 yards off, the Nkenké rushed down steeply like an enormous cascade from the height of 1000 feet. The noise of the Nkenké torrent resembled the roar of an express train over an iron bridge; that of Cataract River, taking its 400-feet leap from the cliffs, was like the rumble of distant thunder; the “Lady Alice’s” last line of breakers, and its fuming and fretting flanks, was heard only as the swash of waves against a ship’s prow when driven by a spanking breeze against a cross sea; while the cataract below lent its dull boom to swell the chorus of angry and falling rivers, which filled our ears with their terrific uproar.

Very different was this scene of towering cliffs and lofty mountain walls, which daily discharged the falling streams from the vast uplands above and buried us within the deafening chasm, to that glassy flow of the Livingstone by the black eerie forests of Usongora Meno and Kasera, and through the upper lands of the cannibal Wenya, where a single tremulous wave was a rarity. We now, surrounded by the daily terrors and hope-killing shocks of these apparently endless cataracts, and the loud boom of their baleful fury, remembered, with regretful hearts, the Sabbath stillness and dreamy serenity of those days. Beautiful was it then to glide among the lazy creeks of the spicy and palm-growing isles, where the broad-leafed Amomum vied in greenness with the drooping fronds of the Phrynium, where the myrrh and bdellium shrubs exhaled their fragrance side by side with the wild cassia, where the capsicum with its red-hot berries rose in embowering masses, and the Ipomœa’s purple buds gemmed with colour the tall stem of some sturdy tree. Environed by most dismal prospects, for ever dinned by terrific sound, at all points confronted by the most hopeless outlook, we think that an Eden which we have left behind, and this a watery hell wherein we now are.

Though our involuntary descent of the Lady Alice Rapids from Gamfwé’s Bay to Nkenké River Bay—a distance of three miles—occupied us but fifteen minutes, it was a work of four days, viz. from the 13th to the 16th inclusive, to lower the canoes by cables. Experience of the vast force of the flood, and the brittleness of the rattan cables, had compelled us to fasten eight cables to each canoe, and to detail five men to each cable for the passage of the rapids. Yet, with all our precautions, almost each hour was marked with its special accident to man or canoe. One canoe, with a man named Nubi in it, was torn from the hands of forty men, swept down two miles, and sunk in the great whirlpool. Nubi clung to his vessel, until taken down a second time, when he and the canoe were ejected fifty yards apart, but being an expert swimmer he regained it in the Nkenké basin, and astride of its keel was circling round with the strong ebb tide, when he was saved by the dashing Uledi and his young brother Shumari.

While returning to my labours along the bouldery heap which lined the narrow terrace opposite the islets, I observed another canoe, which contained the chief Wadi Rehani and two of my boat-bearers, Chiwonda and Muscati, drifting down helplessly near the verge of some slack water. The three men were confused, and benumbed with terror at the roar and hissing of the rapids. Being comparatively close to them, on the edge of a high crag, I suddenly shot out my voice with the full power of my lungs, in sharp, quick accents of command to paddle ashore, and the effect was wonderful. It awoke them like soldiers to the call of duty, and after five minutes’ energetic use of their paddles they were saved. I have often been struck at the power of a quick, decisive tone. It appears to have an electric effect, riding rough-shod over all fears, indecision, and tremor, and, just as in this instance, I had frequently up river, when the people were inclined to get panic-stricken, or to despair, restored them to a sense of duty by affecting the sharp-cutting, steel-like, and imperious tone of voice, which seemed to be as much of a compelling power as powder to a bullet. But it should be remembered that a too frequent use of it spoils its effect.

April 18.—On the 18th we descended from Nkenké Bay to a lengthy indentation behind two islands above Msumbula. In shooting the rapids one canoe was wrecked, but fortunately a large canoe which had been lost up river was recovered by paying a small present to the amiable Bateké fishermen. At this camp we discovered that our people were robbing me in the most shameless manner, and I was indebted for this discovery to Frank, whose duty as camp-keeper and leader of the land party gave him opportunities for detecting the rapid diminution of our stores. A search was instituted without warning, and a hundredweight or two of purloined beads and shells were discovered. The boldest thief, fearing punishment, absconded, and never returned.

April 19, 21.—The next day, after Frank had transported the goods and moved his party to a new camp, we descended two miles of dangerous rapids and whirlpools, and on the 20th I led the way in my boat and proceeded a distance of four miles, forming camp behind some small islets, near which the river expanded to a width of about eight hundred yards. By three in the afternoon the land party had also arrived. On the 21st we dropped down, without difficulty, a distance of two miles, and camped for the first time in Babwendé territory.

Nsangu, a village of the Basessé, was opposite, crowning with its palms and fields a hilly terrace, projected from the mountain range, at whose richly wooded slopes or cliffy front, based with a long line of great boulders, we each day looked from the right bank of the river. The villagers sent a deputation to us with palm-wine and a small gift of cassava tubers. Upon asking them if there were any more cataracts they replied that there was only one, and they exaggerated it so much that the very report struck terror and dismay into, our people. They described it as falling from a height greater than the position on which their village was situated, which drew exclamations of despair from my followers. I, on the other hand, rather rejoiced at this, as I believed it might be “Tuckey’s Cataract,” which seemed to be eternally receding as we advanced. While the Bateké above had constantly held out flattering prospects of “only one more” cataract, I had believed that one to be Tuckey’s Cataract, because map-makers have laid down a great navigable reach of river between Tuckey’s upper cataract and the Yellala Falls—hence our object in clinging to the river, despite all obstacles, until that ever-receding cataract was reached.

The distance we had laboured through from the 16th of March to the 21st of April inclusive, a period of thirty-seven days, was only 34 miles! Since the Basessé fishermen, “who ought to know” we said, declared there was only this tremendous cataract, with a fall of several hundred feet, below us, we resolved to persevere until we had passed it.

April 22, 23.—During the 22nd and 23rd we descended from opposite Nsangu, a distance of five miles, to below Rocky Island Falls, and during the three following days we were engaged in the descent of a six-mile stretch, which enabled us to approach the “terrific” falls described by the Basessé at Nsangu. Arriving at camp with my canoe party, I instantly took my boat’s crew and explored the ground. The “Falls” are called Inkisi, or the “Charm”; they have no clear drop, but the river, being forced through a chasm only 500 yards wide, is flanked by curling waves of destructive fury, which meet in the centre, overlap, and strike each other, while below is an absolute chaos of mad waters, leaping waves, deep troughs, contending watery ridges, tumbling and tossing for a distance of two miles. The commencement of this gorge is a lengthy island which seems to have been a portion or slice of the table-land fallen flat, as it were, from a height of 1000 feet. More geologically speaking, it is a mile-long fragment of the gneissic substructure of the table-land which appears to have suddenly subsided, retaining its original horizontal stratification. On the sides, however, the heaps of ruin, thick slabs, and blocks of trap rock bear witness to that sudden collapsing from beneath which undoubtedly formed this chasm.

The natives above Inkisi descended from their breezy homes on the table-land to visit the strangers. They were burning to know what we intended to do to extricate ourselves from the embarrassing position in which we found ourselves before these falls. I had already explored the ground personally twice over, and had planned a dozen ways to get over the tremendous obstacle. I had also ascended to the table-land to take a more general view of the situation. Before replying to their questions, I asked if there was another cataract below. “No,” said they, “at least only a little one, which you can pass without trouble.”

“Ah,” thought I to myself, “this great cataract then must be Tuckey’s Cataract, and the ‘little one,’ I suppose, was too contemptible an affair to be noticed, or perhaps it was covered over by high water, for map-makers have a clear, wide—three miles wide—stream to the falls of Yellala. Good! I will haul my canoes up the mountain and pass over the table-land, as I must now cling to this river to the end, having followed it so long.”

My resolution was soon communicated to my followers, who looked perfectly blank at the proposition. The natives heard me, and, seeing the silence and reluctance of the people, they asked the cause, and I told them it was because I intended to drag our vessels up the mountain.

“Up the mountain!” they repeated, turning their eyes towards the towering height, which was shagged with trees and bristling with crags and hill fragments, with an unspeakable look of horror. They appeared to fancy the world was coming to an end, or some unnatural commotion would take place, for they stared at me with lengthened faces. Then, without a word, they climbed the stiff ascent of 1200 feet, and securing their black pigs, fowls, or goats in their houses, spread the report far and wide that the white man intended to fly his canoes over the mountains.

On the other hand, the amiable Basessé, on the left table-land across the river, had gathered in hundreds on the cliffs overlooking the Inkisi Falls, in expectation of seeing a catastrophe, which certainly would have been worth seeing had we been so suicidally inclined as to venture over the falls in our canoes—for that undoubtedly was their idea. It was strange with what poor wits the aborigines of these new and exhumed regions credited us. These people believed we should be guilty of this last freak of madness just as the Wana Mpungu believed we should blindly stumble into their game-nets, and the Wy-yanzi of Chumbiri believed that, having been cheated out of 300 dollars’ worth of goods, we should, upon the mere asking, be cheated again. Indeed, I observe that, wherever I go, savage and civilized man alike are too apt to despise each other at first, and that, when finally awakened to some sense of consideration for each other, they proceed to the other extreme, and invest one another with more attributes than they really possess.

Having decided upon the project, it only remained to make a road and to begin, but in order to obtain the assistance of the aborigines, which I was anxious for in order to relieve my people from much of the fatigue, the first day all hands were mustered for road making. Our numerous axes, which we had purchased in Manyema and in Uregga, came into very efficient use now, for, by night, a bush-strewn path 1500 yards in length had been constructed.

April 26.—By 8 A.M. of the 26th our exploring-boat and a small canoe were on the summit of the table-land at a new camp we had formed. As the feat was performed without ostentation and, it need not be told, without any unnatural commotion or event—the pigs had not been frightened, the fowls had not cackled uneasily, goats had not disappeared, women had not given birth to monsters—the native chiefs were in a state of agreeable wonder and complimentary admiration of our industry suitable for the commencement of negotiations, and after an hour’s “talk” and convivial drinking of palm-wine they agreed, for a gift of forty cloths, to bring six hundred men to assist us to haul up the monster canoes we possessed, two or three of which were of heavy teak, over 70 feet in length, and weighing over three tons. A large number of my men were then detailed to cut rattan canes as a substitute for ropes, and as many were brittle and easily broken, this involved frequent delays. Six men under Kachéché were also despatched overland to a distance of ten miles to explore the river, and to prepare the natives for our appearance.

April 28.—By the evening of the 28th all our vessels were safe on the highest part of the table-land. Having become satisfied that all was going well in camp, and that Manwa Sera and his men were capable of superintending it, with the aid of the natives, I resolved to take Frank and the boat’s crew, women, and children, and goods of the Expedition, to the frontier of Nzabi, and establish a camp near the river, at a point where we should again resume our toil in the deep defile through which the mighty river stormed along its winding course.

The Babwendé natives were exceeding friendly, even more so than the amiable Bateké. Gunpowder was abundant with them, and every male capable of carrying a gun possessed one, often more. Delft ware and British crockery were also observed in their hands, such as plates, mugs, shallow dishes, wash-basins, galvanized iron spoons, Birmingham cutlery, and other articles of European manufacture obtained through the native markets, which are held in an open space between each district. For example, Nzabi district holds a market on a Monday, and Babwendé from Zinga, Mowa farther down, and Inkisi, and Basessé, from across the river attend, as there is a ferry below Zinga, and articles such as European salt, gunpowder, guns, cloth, crockery, glass, and iron ware, of which the currency consists, are bartered for produce such as ground-nuts, palm-oil, palm-nuts, palm-wine, cassava bread and tubers, yams, maize, sugar-cane, beans, native earthenware, onions, lemons, bananas, guavas, sweet limes, pine-apples, black pigs, goats, fowls, eggs, ivory, and a few slaves, who are generally Batekéé or Northern Basundi. On Tuesday the district above Inkisi Falls holds its market, at which Mowa, Nzabi, and the district above Inkisi attend. On Wednesday the Umvilingya, Lemba, and Nsangu districts hold a market. On Thursday most of the Babwendé cross the river over to Nsangu, and the Basessé have the honour of holding a market on their own soil. On Friday the market is again held at Nzabi, and the series runs its course in the same order. Thus, without trading caravans or commercial expeditions, the aborigines of these districts are well supplied with almost all they require without the trouble and danger of proceeding to the coast. From district to district, market to market, and hand to hand, European fabrics and wares are conveyed along both sides of the rivers, and along the paths of traffic, until finally the districts of Ntamo, Nkunda, and Nshasa obtain them. These then man their large canoes and transfer them to Ibaka, Misongo, Chumbiri, and Bolobo, and purchase ivory, and now and then a slave, while Ibaka, Misongo, Chumbiri, and Bolobo transport the European fabrics and wares to Irebu, Mompurengi, Ubangi, and Ikengo, and Ikengo conveys them to the fierce Bangala, and the Bangala to the Marunja, Mpakiwana, Urangi, Rubunga in Nganza Gunji, and finally to Upoto—the present ultimate reach of anything arriving from the west coast. By this mode of traffic a keg of powder landed at Funta, Ambriz, Ambrizette, or Kinsembo, requires about five years to reach the Bangala. The first musket was landed in Angola in about the latter part of the fifteenth century, for Diogo Cão only discovered the mouth of the Congo in 1485. It has taken 390 years for four muskets to arrive at Rubunga in Nganza, 965 miles from Point de Padrão, where Diogo Cão erected his memorial column in honour of the discovery of the Congo.

We discovered cloth to be so abundant amongst the Babwendé that it was against our conscience to purchase even a fowl, for naturally the nearer we approached civilization cloth became cheaper in value, until finally a fowl cost four yards of our thick sheeting! Frank and I therefore lived upon the same provisions as our people. Our store of sugar had run out in Uregga, our coffee was finished at Vinya Njara, and at Inkisi Falls our tea, alas! alas! came to an end. To guard against contingencies—for I thought it possible that, however desperately we strove to proceed towards the Western Ocean, we might have been compelled to return to Nyangwé—I had left at Nyangwé, in charge of Abed bin Salem, three tins of tea and a few other small things. At this juncture, how we wished for them!

Yet we could have well parted with a large stock of tea, coffee, and sugar in order to obtain a pair of shoes apiece. Though I had kept one pair of worn-out shoes by me, my last new pair had been put on in the jungles of doleful Uregga, and now six weeks’ rough wear over the gritty iron and clink-stone, trap, and granite blocks along the river had ground through soles and uppers, until I began to feel anxious. As for Frank, he had been wearing sandals made out of my leather portmanteaus, and slippers out of our gutta-percha pontoon; but climbing over the rocks and rugged steeps wore them to tatters in such quick succession, that it was with the utmost difficulty that I was enabled, by appealing to the pride of the white man, to induce him to persevere in the manufacture of sandals for his own use. Frequently, on suddenly arriving in camp from my wearying labours, I would discover him with naked feet, and would reprove him for shamelessly exposing his white feet to the vulgar gaze of the aborigines! In Europe this would not be considered indelicate, but in barbarous Africa the feet should be covered as much as the body; for there is a small modicum of superiority shown even in clothing the feet. Not only on moral grounds did I urge him to cover his feet, but also for his own comfort and health; for the great cataract gorge and table-land above it, besides abounding in ants, mosquitoes, and vermin, are infested with three dangerous insects, which prey upon the lower limbs of man—the “jigga” from Brazil, the guinea-worm, and an entozoon, which, depositing its eggs in the muscles, produces a number of short, fat worms and severe tumours. I also discovered, from the examples in my camp, that the least abrasion of the skin was likely, if not covered, to result in an ulcer. My own person testified to this, for an injury to the thumb of my left hand, injured by a fall on the rocks at Gamfwé’s, had culminated in a painful wound, which I daily cauterized; but though bathed, burned, plastered, and bandaged twice a day, I had been at this time a sufferer for over a month.

At this period we were all extremely liable to disease, for our system was impoverished. Four of my people suffered from chronic dysentery and eight from large and painful ulcers; the itch disease was rabid—about a dozen of the men were fearful objects of its virulence, though they were not incapacited from duty—and there were two victims of a low fever which no medicine seemed to relieve.

In the absence of positive knowledge as to how long we might be toiling in the cataracts, we were all compelled to be extremely economical. Goat and pig meat were such luxuries that we declined to think of them as being possible with our means; tea, coffee, sugar, sardines, were fast receding into the memory-land of past pleasures, and chickens had reached such prices that they were rare in our camp. We possessed one ram from far Uregga, and Mirambo, the black riding-ass—the other two asses had died a few weeks before—but we should have deserved the name of cannibals had we dared to think of sacrificing the pets of the camp. Therefore—by the will of the gods—contentment had to be found in boiled “duff,” or cold cassava bread, ground-nuts, or pea-nuts, yams, and green bananas. To make such strange food palatable was an art that we possessed in a higher degree than our poor comrades. They were supplied with the same materials as we ourselves, but the preparation was different. My dark followers simply dried their cassava, and then pounding it made the meal into porridge. Ground-nuts they threw into the ashes, and when sufficiently baked ate them like hungry men.

For me such food was too crude: besides, my stomach, called to sustain a brain and body strained to the utmost by responsibilities, required that some civility should be shown to it. Necessity roused my faculties, and a jaded stomach goaded my inventive powers to a high pitch. I called my faithful cook, told him to clean and wash mortar and pestle for the preparation of a “high art” dish. Frank approached also to receive instructions, so that, in my absence, he might remind Marzouk, the cook, of each particular. First we rinsed in clear cold brook-water from the ravines some choice cassava or manioc tops, and these were placed in the water to be bruised. Marzouk understood this part very well, and soon pounded them to the consistence of a green porridge. To this I then added fifty shelled nuts of the Arachis hypogœa, three small specimens of the Dioscorea alata boiled and sliced cold, a tablespoonful of oil extracted from the Arachis hypogœa, a tablespoonful of wine of the Elais Guineensis, a little salt, and sufficient powdered capsicum. This imposing and admirable mixture was pounded together, fried, and brought into the tent, along with toasted cassava pudding, hot and steaming, on the only Delft plate we possessed. Within a few minutes our breakfast was spread out on the medicine chest which served me for a table, and at once a keen appetite was inspired by the grateful smell of my artful compound. After invoking a short blessing, Frank and I rejoiced our souls and stomachs with the savoury mess, and flattered ourselves that, though British paupers and Sing-Sing convicts might fare better perhaps, thankful content crowned our hermit repast.