In due course we left Lamu,and ten days afterwards we found ourselves at a spot called Charra,on the Tana River,having gone through many adventures which need not be recorded here.
Amongst other things we visited a ruined city,of which there are many on this coast,and which must once,to judge from their extent and the numerous remains of mosques and stone houses,have been very populous places.These ruined cities are immeasurably ancient,having,I believe,been places of wealth and importance as far back as the Old Testament times,when they were centres of trade with India and elsewhere.But their glory has departed now --the slave trade has finished them --and where wealthy merchants from all parts of the then civilized world stood and bargained in the crowded market-places,the lion holds his court at night,and instead of the chattering of slaves and the eager voices of the bidders,his awful note goes echoing down the ruined corridors.At this particular place we discovered on a mound,covered up with rank growth and rubbish,two of the most beautiful stone doorways that it is possible to conceive.The carving on them was simply exquisite,and I only regret that we had no means of getting them away.No doubt they had once been the entrances to a palace,of which,however,no traces were now to be seen,though probably its ruins lay under the rising mound.
Gone!quite gone!the way that everything must go.Like the nobles and the ladies who lived within their gates,these cities have had their day,and now they are as Babylon and Nineveh,and as London and Paris will one day be.Nothing may endure.
That is the inexorable law.Men and women,empires and cities,thrones,principalities,and powers,mountains,rivers,and unfathomed seas,worlds,spaces,and universes,all have their day,and all must go.In this ruined and forgotten place the moralist may behold a symbol of the universal destiny.For this system of ours allows no room for standing still --nothing can loiter on the road and check the progress of things upwards towards Life,or the rush of things downwards towards Death.The stern policeman Fate moves us and them on,on,uphill and downhill and across the level;there is no resting-place for the weary feet,till at last the abyss swallows us,and from the shores of the Transitory we are hurled into the sea of the Eternal.
At Charra we had a violent quarrel with the headman of the bearers we had hired to go as far as this,and who now wished to extort large extra payment from us.In the result he threatened to set the Masai --about whom more anon --on to us.That night he,with all our hired bearers,ran away,stealing most of the goods which had been entrusted to them to carry.Luckily,however,they had not happened to steal our rifles,ammunition,and personal effects;not because of any delicacy of feeling on their part,but owing to the fact that they chanced to be in the charge of the five Wakwafis.After that,it was clear to us that we had had enough of caravans and of bearers.Indeed,we had not much left for a caravan to carry.And yet,how were we to get on?
It was Good who solved the question.'Here is water,'he said,pointing to the Tana River;'and yesterday I saw a party of natives hunting hippopotami in canoes.I understand that Mr Mackenzie's mission station is on the Tana River.Why not get into canoes and paddle up to it?'
This brilliant suggestion was,needless to say,received with acclamation;and I instantly set to work to buy suitable canoes from the surrounding natives.I succeeded after a delay of three days in obtaining two large ones,each hollowed out of a single log of some light wood,and capable of holding six people and baggage.For these two canoes we had to pay nearly all our remaining cloth,and also many other articles.
On the day following our purchase of the two canoes we effected a start.In the first canoe were Good,Sir Henry,and three of our Wakwafi followers;in the second myself,Umslopogaas,and the other two Wakwafis.As our course lay upstream,we had to keep four paddles at work in each canoe,which meant that the whole lot of us,except Good,had to row away like galley-slaves;and very exhausting work it was.I say,except Good,for,of course,the moment that Good got into a boat his foot was on his native heath,and he took command of the party.And certainly he worked us.On shore Good is a gentle,mild-mannered man,and given to jocosity;but,as we found to our cost,Good in a boat was a perfect demon.To begin with,he knew all about it,and we didn't.On all nautical subjects,from the torpedo fittings of a man-of-war down to the best way of handling the paddle of an African canoe,he was a perfect mine of information,which,to say the least of it,we were not.Also his ideas of discipline were of the sternest,and,in short,he came the royal naval officer over us pretty considerably,and paid us out amply for all the chaff we were wont to treat him to on land;but,on the other hand,I am bound to say that he managed the boats admirably.
After the first day Good succeeded,with the help of some cloth and a couple of poles,in rigging up a sail in each canoe,which lightened our labours not a little.But the current ran very strong against us,and at the best we were not able to make more than twenty miles a day.Our plan was to start at dawn,and paddle along till about half-past ten,by which time the sun got too hot to allow of further exertion.Then we moored our canoes to the bank,and ate our frugal meal;after which we ate or otherwise amused ourselves till about three o'clock,when we again started,and rowed till within an hour of sundown,when we called a halt for the night.On landing in the evening,Good would at once set to work,with the help of the Askari,to build a little 'scherm',or small enclosure,fenced with thorn bushes,and to light a fire.I,with Sir Henry and Umslopogaas,would go out to shoot something for the pot.Generally this was an easy task,for all sorts of game abounded on the banks of the Tana.One night Sir Henry shot a young cow-giraffe,of which the marrow-bones were excellent;on another I got a couple of waterbuck right and left;and once,to his own intense satisfaction,Umslopogaas (who,like most Zulus,was a vile shot with a rifle)managed to kill a fine fat eland with a Martini I had lent him.
Sometimes we varied our food by shooting some guinea-fowl,or bush-bustard (paau)--both of which were numerous --with a shot-gun,or by catching a supply of beautiful yellow fish,with which the waters of the Tana swarmed,and which form,I believe,one of the chief food-supplies of the crocodiles.
Three days after our start an ominous incident occurred.We were just drawing in to the bank to make our camp as usual for the night,when we caught sight of a figure standing on a little knoll not forty yards away,and intensely watching our approach.
One glance was sufficient --although I was personally unacquainted with the tribe --to tell me that he was a Masai Elmoran,or young warrior.Indeed,had I had any doubts,they would have quickly been dispelled by the terrified ejaculation of 'Masai!'that burst simultaneously from the lips of our Wakwafi followers,who are,as I think I have said,themselves bastard Masai.
And what a figure he presented as he stood there in his savage war-gear!Accustomed as I have been to savages all my life,I do not think that I have ever before seen anything quite so ferocious or awe-inspiring.To begin with,the man was enormously tall,quite as tall as Umslopogaas,I should say,and beautifully,though somewhat slightly,shaped;but with the face of a devil.
In his right hand he held a spear about five and a half feet long,the blade being two and a half feet in length,by nearly three inches in width,and having an iron spike at the end of the handle that measured more than a foot.On his left arm was a large and well-made elliptical shield of buffalo hide,on which were painted strange heraldic-looking devices.On his shoulders was a huge cape of hawk's feathers,and round his neck was a 'naibere',or strip of cotton,about seventeen feet long,by one and a half broad,with a stripe of colour running down the middle of it.The tanned goatskin robe,which formed his ordinary attire in times of peace,was tied lightly round his waist,so as to serve the purposes of a belt,and through it were stuck,on the right and left sides respectively,his short pear-shaped sime,or sword,which is made of a single piece of steel,and carried in a wooden sheath,and an enormous knobkerrie.But perhaps the most remarkable feature of his attire consisted of a headdress of ostrich-feathers,which was fixed on the chin,and passed in front of the ears to the forehead,and,being shaped like an ellipse,completely framed the face,so that the diabolical countenance appeared to project from a sort of feather fire-screen.
Round the ankles he wore black fringes of hair,and,projecting from the upper portion of the calves,to which they were attached,were long spurs like spikes,from which flowed down tufts of the beautiful black and waving hair of the Colobus monkey.Such was the elaborate array of the Masai Elmoran who stood watching the approach of our two canoes,but it is one which,to be appreciated,must be seen;only those who see it do not often live to describe it.Of course I could not make out all these details of his full dress on the occasion of this my first introduction,being,indeed,amply taken up with the consideration of the general effect,but I had plenty of subsequent opportunities of becoming acquainted with the items that went to make it up.
Whilst we were hesitating what to do,the Masai warrior drew himself up in a dignified fashion,shook his huge spear at us,and,turning,vanished on the further side of the slope.
'Hulloa!'holloaed Sir Henry from the other boat;'our friend the caravan leader has been as good as his word,and set the Masai after us.Do you think it will be safe to go ashore?'
I did not think it would be at all safe;but,on the other hand,we had no means of cooking in the canoes,and nothing that we could eat raw,so it was difficult to know what to do.At last Umslopogaas simplified matters by volunteering to go and reconnoitre,which he did,creeping off into the bush like a snake,while we hung off in the stream waiting for him.In half an hour he returned,and told us that there was not a Masai to be seen anywhere about,but that he had discovered a spot where they had recently been encamped,and that from various indications he judged that they must have moved on an hour or so before;the man we saw having,no doubt,been left to report upon our movements.
Thereupon we landed;and,having posted a sentry,proceeded to cook and eat our evening meal.This done,we took the situation into our serious consideration.Of course,it was possible that the apparition of the Masai warrior had nothing to do with us,that he was merely one of a band bent upon some marauding and murdering expedition against another tribe.But when we recalled the threat of the caravan leader,and reflected on the ominous way in which the warrior had shaken his spear at us,this did not appear very probable.On the contrary,what did seem probable was that the part was after us and awaiting a favourable opportunity to attack us.This being so,there were two things that we could do --one of which was to go on,and the other to go back.The latter idea was,however,rejected at once,it being obvious that we should encounter as many dangers in retreat as in advance;and,besides,we had made up our minds to journey onwards at any price.Under these circumstances,however,we did not consider it safe to sleep ashore,so we got into our canoes,and,paddling out into the middle of the stream,which was not very wide here,managed to anchor them by means of big stones fastened to ropes made of coconut-fibre,of which there were several fathoms in each canoe.
Here the mosquitoes nearly ate us up alive,and this,combined with anxiety as to our position,effectually prevented me from sleeping as the others were doing,notwithstanding the attacks of the aforesaid Tana mosquitoes.And so I lay awake,smoking and reflecting on many things,but,being of a practical turn of mind,chiefly on how we were to give those Masai villains the slip.It was a beautiful moonlight night,and,notwithstanding the mosquitoes,and the great risk we were running from fever from sleeping in such a spot,and forgetting that I had the cramp very badly in my right leg from squatting in a constrained position in the canoe,and that the Wakwafi who was sleeping beside me smelt horribly,I really began to enjoy myself.The moonbeams played upon the surface of the running water that speeded unceasingly past us towards the sea,like men's lives towards the grave,till it glittered like a wide sheet of silver,that is in the open where the trees threw no shadows.Near the banks,however,it was very dark,and the night wind sighed sadly in the reeds.
To our left,on the further side of the river,was a little sandy bay which was clear of trees,and here I could make out the forms of numerous antelopes advancing to the water,till suddenly there came an ominous roar,whereupon they all made off hurriedly.Then after a pause I caught sight of the massive form of His Majesty the Lion,coming down to drink his fill after meat.Presently he moved on,then came a crashing of the reeds about fifty yards above us,and a few minutes later a huge black mass rose out of the water,about twenty yards from me,and snorted.
It was the head of a hippopotamus.Down it went without a sound,only to rise again within five yards of where I sat.This was decidedly too near to be comfortable,more especially as the hippopotamus was evidently animated by intense curiosity to know what on earth our canoes were.He opened his great mouth,to yawn,I suppose,and gave me an excellent view of his ivories;and I could not help reflecting how easily he could crunch up our frail canoe with a single bite.Indeed,I had half a mind to give him a ball from my eight-bore,but on reflection determined to let him alone unless he actually charged the boat.Presently he sank again as noiselessly as before,and I saw no more of him.Just then,on looking towards the bank on our right,Ifancied that I caught sight of a dark figure flitting between the tree trunks.I have very keen sight,and I was almost sure that I saw something,but whether it was bird,beast,or man I could not say.At the moment,however,a dark cloud passed over the moon,and I saw no more of it.Just then,too,although all the other sounds of the forest had ceased,a species of horned owl with which I was well acquainted began to hoot with great persistency.After that,save for the rustling of trees and reeds when the wind caught them,there was complete silence.
But somehow,in the most unaccountable way,I had suddenly become nervous.There was no particular reason why I should be,beyond the ordinary reasons which surround the Central African traveller,and yet I undoubtedly was.If there is one thing more than another of which I have the most complete and entire scorn and disbelief,it is of presentiments,and yet here I was all of a sudden filled with and possessed by a most undoubted presentiment of approaching evil.I would not give way to it,however,although I felt the cold perspiration stand out upon my forehead.I would not arouse the others.Worse and worse I grew,my pulse fluttered like a dying man's,my nerves thrilled with the horrible sense of impotent terror which anybody who is subject to nightmare will be familiar with,but still my will triumphed over my fears,and I lay quiet (for I was half sitting,half lying,in the bow of the canoe),only turning my face so as to command a view of Umslopogaas and the two Wakwafi who were sleeping alongside of and beyond me.
In the distance I heard a hippopotamus splash faintly,then the owl hooted again in a kind of unnatural screaming note {Endnote 4},and the wind began to moan plaintively through the trees,****** a heart-chilling music.Above was the black bosom of the cloud,and beneath me swept the black flood of the water,and I felt as though I and Death were utterly alone between them.
It was very desolate.
Suddenly my blood seemed to freeze in my veins,and my heart to stand still.Was it fancy,or were we moving?I turned my eyes to look for the other canoe which should be alongside of us.I could not see it,but instead I saw a lean and clutching black hand lifting itself above the gunwale of the little boat.
Surely it was a nightmare!At the same instant a dim but devilish-looking face appeared to rise out of the water,and then came a lurch of the canoe,the quick flash of a knife,and an awful yell from the Wakwafi who was sleeping by my side (the same poor fellow whose odour had been annoying me),and something warm spurted into my face.In an instant the spell was broken;I knew that it was no nightmare,but that we were attacked by swimming Masai.Snatching at the first weapon that came to hand,which happened to be Umslopogaas'battleaxe,I struck with all my force in the direction in which I had seen the flash of the knife.The blow fell upon a man's arm,and,catching it against the thick wooden gunwale of the canoe,completely severed it from the body just above the wrist.As for its owner,he uttered no sound or cry.Like a ghost he came,and like a ghost he went,leaving behind him a bloody hand still gripping a great knife,or rather a short sword,that was buried in the heart of our poor servant.
Instantly there arose a hubbub and confusion,and I fancied,rightly or wrongly,that I made out several dark heads gliding away towards the right-hand bank,whither we were rapidly drifting,for the rope by which we were moored had been severed with a knife.As soon as I had realized this fact,I also realized that the scheme had been to cut the boat loose so that it should drift on to the right bank (as it would have done with the natural swing of the current),where no doubt a party of Masai were waiting to dig their shovel-headed spears into us.Seizing one paddle myself,I told Umslopogaas to take another (for the remaining Askari was too frightened and bewildered to be of any use),and together we rowed vigorously out towards the middle of the stream;and not an instant too soon,for in another minute we should have been aground,and then there would have been an end of us.
As soon as we were well out,we set to work to paddle the canoe upstream again to where the other was moored;and very hard and dangerous work it was in the dark,and with nothing but the notes of Good's stentorian shouts,which he kept firing off at intervals like a fog-horn,to guide us.But at last we fetched up,and were thankful to find that they had not been molested at all.
No doubt the owner of the same hand that severed our rope should have severed theirs also,but was led away from his purpose by an irresistible inclination to murder when he got the chance,which,while it cost us a man and him his hand,undoubtedly saved all the rest of us from massacre.Had it not been for that ghastly apparition over the side of the boat --an apparition that Ishall never forget till my dying hour --the canoe would undoubtedly have drifted ashore before I realized what had happened,and this history would never have been written by me.
