On the morning of the 12th October we passed through a wild, hilly country, with fine wooded scenery on both sides, but thinly inhabited.The largest trees were usually thorny acacias, of great size and beautiful forms.As we sailed by several villages without touching, the people became alarmed, and ran along the banks, spears in hand.We employed one to go forward and tell Mpande of our coming.This allayed their fears, and we went ashore, and took breakfast near the large island with two villages on it, opposite the mouth of the Zungwe, where we had left the Zambesi on our way up.
Mpande was sorry that he had no canoes of his own to sell, but he would lend us two.He gave us cooked pumpkins and a water-melon.
His servant had lateral curvature of the spine.We have often seen cases of humpback, but this was the only case of this kind of curvature we had met with.Mpande accompanied us himself in his own vessel, till we had an opportunity of purchasing a fine large canoe elsewhere.We paid what was considered a large price for it:twelve strings of blue cut glass neck beads, an equal number of large blue ones of the size of marbles, and two yards of grey calico.Had the beads been coarser, they would have been more valued, because such were in fashion.Before concluding the bargain the owner said "his bowels yearned for his canoe, and we must give a little more to stop their yearning."This was irresistible.The trading party of Sequasha, which we now met, had purchased ten large new canoes for six strings of cheap coarse white beads each, or their equivalent, four yards of calico, and had bought for the merest trifle ivory enough to load them all.They were driving a trade in slaves also, which was something new in this part of Africa, and likely soon to change the character of the inhabitants.These men had been living in clover, and were uncommonly fat and plump.When sent to trade, slaves wisely never stint themselves of beer or anything else, which their master's goods can buy.
The temperature of the Zambesi had increased 10 degrees since August, being now 80 degrees.The air was as high as 96 degrees after sunset; and, the vicinity of the water being the coolest part, we usually made our beds close by the river's brink, though there in danger of crocodiles.Africa differs from India in the air always becoming cool and refreshing long before the sun returns, and there can be no doubt that we can in this country bear exposure to the sun, which would be fatal in India.It is probably owing to the greater dryness of the African atmosphere that sunstroke is so rarely met with.In twenty-two years Dr. Livingstone never met or heard of a single case, though the protective head-dresses of India are rarely seen.
When the water is nearly at its lowest, we occasionally meet with small rapids which are probably not in existence during the rest of the year.Having slept opposite the rivulet Bume, which comes from the south, we passed the island of Nakansalo, and went down the rapids of the same name on the 17th, and came on the morning of the 19th to the more serious ones of Nakabele, at the entrance to Kariba.
The Makololo guided the canoes admirably through the opening in the dyke.When we entered the gorge we came on upwards of thirty hippopotami:a bank near the entrance stretches two-thirds across the narrowed river, and in the still place behind it they were swimming about.Several were in the channel, and our canoe-men were afraid to venture down among them, because, as they affirm, there is commonly an ill-natured one in a herd, which takes a malignant pleasure in upsetting canoes.Two or three boys on the rocks opposite amused themselves by throwing stones at the frightened animals, and hit several on the head.It would have been no difficult matter to have shot the whole herd.We fired a few shots to drive them off; the balls often glance off the skull, and no more harm is done than when a schoolboy gets a bloody nose; we killed one, which floated away down the rapid current, followed by a number of men on the bank.A native called to us from the left bank, and said that a man on his side knew how to pray to the Kariba gods, and advised us to hire him to pray for our safety, while we were going down the rapids, or we should certainly all be drowned.No one ever risked his life in Kariba without first paying the river-doctor, or priest, for his prayers.Our men asked if there was a cataract in front, but he declined giving any information; they were not on his side of the river; if they would come over, then he might be able to tell them.We crossed, but he went off to the village.We then landed and walked over the hills to have a look at Karaba before trusting our canoes in it.The current was strong, and there was broken water in some places, but the channel was nearly straight, and had no cataract, so we determined to risk it.Our men visited the village while we were gone, and were treated to beer and tobacco.
The priest who knows how to pray to the god that rules the rapids followed us with several of his friends, and they were rather surprised to see us pass down in safety, without the aid of his intercession.The natives who followed the dead hippopotamus caught it a couple of miles below, and, having made it fast to a rock, were sitting waiting for us on the bank beside the dead animal.As there was a considerable current there, and the rocky banks were unfit for our beds, we took the hippopotamus in tow, telling the villagers to follow, and we would give them most of the meat.The crocodiles tugged so hard at the carcass, that we were soon obliged to cast it adrift, to float down in the current, to avoid upsetting the canoe.
