How I Found Livingstone, Henry M. Stanley [best fantasy books to read txt] 📗

my own

adventures and travels, and that until I meet Livingstone, I

presume the greatest interest is attached to myself, my marches,

my troubles, my thoughts, and my impressions. Yet though I may

sometimes write, “my expedition,” or “my caravan,” it by no

means follows that I arrogate to myself this right. For it must

be distinctly understood that it is the “`New York Herald’

Expedition,” and that I am only charged with its command by

Mr. James Gordon Bennett, the proprietor of the `New York Herald,’

as a salaried employ of that gentleman.

 

One thing more; I have adopted the narrative form of relating

the story of the search, on account of the greater interest it

appears to possess over the diary form, and I think that in this

manner I avoid the great fault of repetition for which some

travellers have been severely criticised.

 

CHAPTER II. ZANZIBAR.

 

On the morning of the 6th January, 1871, we were sailing through

the channel that separates the fruitful island of Zanzibar from

Africa. The high lands of the continent loomed like a lengthening

shadow in the grey of dawn. The island lay on our left, distant

but a mile, coming out of its shroud of foggy folds bit by bit as

the day advanced, until it finally rose clearly into view, as

fair in appearance as the fairest of the gems of creation. It

appeared low, but not flat; there were gentle elevations cropping

hither and yon above the languid but graceful tops of the

cocoa-trees that lined the margin of the island, and there were

depressions visible at agreeable intervals, to indicate where a

cool gloom might be found by those who sought relief from a hot

sun. With the exception of the thin line of sand, over which the

sap-green water rolled itself with a constant murmur and moan, the

island seemed buried under one deep stratum of verdure.

 

The noble bosom of the strait bore several dhows speeding in and

out of the bay of Zanzibar with bellying sails. Towards the

south, above the sea line of the horizon, there appeared the naked

masts of several large ships, and to the east of these a dense mass

of white, flat-topped houses. This was Zanzibar, the capital of the

island;—which soon resolved itself into a pretty large and compact

city, with all the characteristics of Arab architecture. Above

some of the largest houses lining the bay front of the city

streamed the blood-red banner of the Sultan, Seyd Burghash, and the

flags of the American, English, North German Confederation, and

French Consulates. In the harbor were thirteen large ships, four

Zanzibar men-of-war, one English man-of-war—the `Nymphe,’ two

American, one French, one Portuguese, two English, and two German

merchantmen, besides numerous dhows hailing from Johanna and

Mayotte of the Comoro Islands, dhows from Muscat and Cutch—traders

between India, the Persian Gulf, and Zanzibar.

 

It was with the spirit of true hospitality and courtesy that

Capt. Francis R. Webb, United States Consul, (formerly of the

United States Navy), received me. Had this gentleman not rendered

me such needful service, I must have condescended to take board and

lodging at a house known as “Charley’s,” called after the

proprietor, a Frenchman, who has won considerable local notoriety

for harboring penniless itinerants, and manifesting a kindly

spirit always, though hidden under such a rugged front; or I

should have been obliged to pitch my double-clothed American drill

tent on the sandbeach of this tropical island, which was by no

means a desirable thing.

 

But Capt. Webb’s opportune proposal to make his commodious and

comfortable house my own; to enjoy myself, with the request that

I would call for whatever I might require, obviated all unpleasant

alternatives.

 

One day’s life at Zanzibar made me thoroughly conscious of my

ignorance respecting African people and things in general. I

imagined I had read Burton and Speke through, fairly well, and

that consequently I had penetrated the meaning, the full

importance and grandeur, of the work I was about to be engaged upon.

But my estimates, for instance, based upon book information,

were simply ridiculous, fanciful images of African attractions

were soon dissipated, anticipated pleasures vanished, and all

crude ideas began to resolve themselves into shape.

 

I strolled through the city. My general impressions are of

crooked, narrow lanes, whitewashed houses, mortar-plastered

streets, in the clean quarter;—of seeing alcoves on each side,

with deep recesses, with a fore-ground of red-turbaned Banyans,

and a background of flimsy cottons, prints, calicoes, domestics

and what not; or of floors crowded with ivory tusks; or of dark

corners with a pile of unginned and loose cotton; or of stores of

crockery, nails, cheap Brummagem ware, tools, &c., in what I call

the Banyan quarter;—of streets smelling very strong—in fact,

exceedingly, malodorous, with steaming yellow and black bodies, and

woolly heads, sitting at the doors of miserable huts, chatting,

laughing, bargaining, scolding, with a compound smell of hides,

tar, filth, and vegetable refuse, in the negro quarter;—of streets

lined with tall, solid-looking houses, flat roofed, of great carved

doors with large brass knockers, with baabs sitting cross-legged

watching the dark entrance to their masters’ houses; of a shallow

sea-inlet, with some dhows, canoes, boats, an odd steam-tub or two,

leaning over on their sides in a sea of mud which the tide has just

left behind it; of a place called “M’nazi-Moya,” “One Cocoa-tree,”

whither Europeans wend on evenings with most languid steps, to

inhale the sweet air that glides over the sea, while the day is

dying and the red sun is sinking westward; of a few graves of

dead sailors, who paid the forfeit of their lives upon arrival

in this land; of a tall house wherein lives Dr. Tozer, “Missionary

Bishop of Central Africa,” and his school of little Africans; and

of many other things, which got together into such a tangle, that

I had to go to sleep, lest I should never be able to separate

the moving images, the Arab from the African; the African from

the Banyan; the Banyan from the Hindi; the Hindi from the European,

&c.

 

Zanzibar is the Bagdad, the Ispahan, the Stamboul, if you like, of

East Africa. It is the great mart which invites the ivory traders

from the African interior. To this market come the gum-copal, the

hides, the orchilla weed, the timber, and the black slaves from

Africa. Bagdad had great silk bazaars, Zanzibar has her ivory

bazaars; Bagdad once traded in jewels, Zanzibar trades in

gum-copal; Stamboul imported Circassian and Georgian slaves;

Zanzibar imports black beauties from Uhiyow, Ugindo, Ugogo,

Unyamwezi and Galla.

 

The same mode of commerce obtains here as in all Mohammedan

countries—nay, the mode was in vogue long before Moses was born.

The Arab never changes. He brought the custom of his forefathers

with him when he came to live on this island. He is as much of an

Arab here as at Muscat or Bagdad; wherever he goes to live he

carries with him his harem, his religion, his long robe, his shirt,

his slippers, and his dagger. If he penetrates Africa, not all the

ridicule of the negroes can make him change his modes of life. Yet

the land has not become Oriental; the Arab has not been able to

change the atmosphere. The land is semi-African in aspect; the

city is but semi-Arabian.

 

To a new-comer into Africa, the Muscat Arabs of Zanzibar are

studies. There is a certain empressement about them which we must

admire. They are mostly all travellers. There are but few of

them who have not been in many dangerous positions, as they

penetrated Central Africa in search of the precious ivory; and

their various experiences have given their features a certain

unmistakable air of-self-reliance, or of self-sufficiency; there

is a calm, resolute, defiant, independent air about them, which

wins unconsciously one’s respect. The stories that some of these

men could tell, I have often thought, would fill many a book of

thrilling adventures.

 

For the half-castes I have great contempt. They are neither

black nor white, neither good nor bad, neither to be admired nor

hated. They are all things, at all times; they are always

fawning on the great Arabs, and always cruel to those unfortunates

brought under their yoke. If I saw a miserable, half-starved

negro, I was always sure to be told he belonged to a half-caste.

Cringing and hypocritical, cowardly and debased, treacherous and

mean, I have always found him. He seems to be for ever ready to

fall down and worship a rich Arab, but is relentless to a poor

black slave. When he swears most, you may be sure he lies most,

and yet this is the breed which is multiplied most at Zanzibar.

 

The Banyan is a born trader, the beau-ideal of a sharp money-making

man. Money flows to his pockets as naturally as water down a

steep. No pang of conscience will prevent him from cheating his

fellow man. He excels a Jew, and his only rival in a market is a

Parsee; an Arab is a babe to him. It is worth money to see him

labor with all his energy, soul and body, to get advantage by the

smallest fraction of a coin over a native. Possibly the native

has a tusk, and it may weigh a couple of frasilahs, but, though

the scales indicate the weight, and the native declares solemnly

that it must be more than two frasilahs, yet our Banyan will

asseverate and vow that the native knows nothing whatever about it,

and that the scales are wrong; he musters up courage to lift it—it

is a mere song, not much more than a frasilah. “Come,” he will say,

“close, man, take the money and go thy way. Art thou mad?” If the

native hesitates, he will scream in a fury; he pushes him about,

spurns the ivory with contemptuous indifference,—never was such

ado about nothing; but though he tells the astounded native to be

up and going, he never intends the ivory shall leave his shop.

 

The Banyans exercise, of all other classes, most influence on the

trade of Central Africa. With the exception of a very few rich

Arabs, almost all other traders are subject to the pains and

penalties which usury imposes. A trader desirous to make a

journey into the interior, whether for slaves or ivory, gum-copal,

or orchilla weed, proposes to a Banyan to advance him $5,000, at

50, 60, or 70 per cent. interest. The Banyan is safe enough not

to lose, whether the speculation the trader is engaged upon pays

or not. An experienced trader seldom loses, or if he has been

unfortunate, through no deed of his own, he does not lose credit;

with the help of the Banyan, he is easily set on his feet again.

 

We will suppose, for the sake of illustrating how trade with the

interior is managed, that the Arab conveys by his caravan $5,000’s

worth of goods into the interior. At Unyanyembe the goods are

worth $10,000; at Ujiji, they are worth $15,000: they have

trebled in price. Five doti, or $7.50, will purchase a slave in

the markets of Ujiji that will fetch in Zanzibar $30. Ordinary

menslaves may be purchased for $6 which would sell for $25 on the

coast. We will say he purchases slaves to the full extent of his

means—after deducting $1,500 expenses of carriage to Ujiji and

back—viz. $3,500, the slaves—464 in number, at $7-50 per head—

would realize $13,920 at Zanzibar! Again, let us illustrate

trade in ivory. A merchant takes $5,000 to Ujiji, and after

deducting $1,500 for expenses to Ujiji, and back to Zanzibar, has

still remaining $3,500 in cloth and beads, with which he purchases

ivory. At Ujiji ivory is bought at $20 the frasilah, or 35 lbs.,

by which he is enabled with $3,500