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

as he had witnessed the awful

colossus in such close vicinage. Recovering from my astonishment,

I thought it prudent to retire also—especially, with a pea-shooter

loaded with treacherous sawdust cartridges in my hand. As I

looked behind, I saw him waving his trunk, which I understood to

mean, “Good-bye, young fellow; it is lucky for you you went in

time, for I was going to pound you to a jelly.”

 

As I was congratulating myself, a wasp darted fiercely at me and

planted its sting in my neck, and for that afternoon my

anticipated pleasures were dispelled. Arriving at camp I found

the men grumbling; their provisions were ended, and there was no

prospect for three days, at least, of procuring any. With the

improvidence usual with the gluttons, they had eaten their rations

of grain, all their store of zebra and dried buffalo meat, and were

now crying out that they were famished.

 

The tracks of animals were numerous, but it being the rainy season

the game was scattered everywhere; whereas, had we travelled

during the dry season through these forests our larders might have

been supplied fresh each day.

 

Some time about 6 P.M., as the Doctor and I were taking our tea

outside the tent, a herd of elephants, twelve in number, passed

about 800 yards off. Our fundi, Asmani and Mabruki Kisesa, were

immediately despatched in pursuit. I would have gone myself with

the heavy Reilly rifle, only I was too much fatigued. We soon

heard their guns firing, and hoped they were successful, as a

plentiful supply of meat might then have been procured, while we

ourselves would have secured one of the elephant’s feet for a nice

delicate roast; but within an hour they returned unsuccessful,

having only drawn blood, some of which they exhibited to us on a

leaf.

 

It requires a very good rifle to kill an African elephant. A No.

8 bore with a Frazer’s shell, planted in the temple, I believe,

would drop an elephant each shot. Faulkner makes some

extraordinary statements, about walking up in front of an elephant

and planting a bullet in his forehead, killing him instantly. The

tale, however, is so incredible that I would prefer not to believe

it; especially when he states that the imprint of the muzzle of

his rifle was on the elephant’s trunk. African travellers—

especially those with a taste for the chase—are too fond of

relating that which borders on the incredible for ordinary men to

believe them. Such stories must be taken with a large grain

of salt, for the sake of the amusement they afford to readers at

home. In future, whenever I hear a man state how he broke the back

of an antelope at 600 yards, I shall incline to believe a cipher

had been added by a slip of the pen, or attribute it to a

typographical error, for this is almost an impossible feat in an

African forest. It may be done once, but it could never be done

twice running. An antelope makes a very small target at 600 yards

distance; but, then, all these stories belong by right divine to

the chasseur who travels to Africa for the sake only of sport.

 

On the 13th we continued our march across several ridges; and the

series of ascents and descents revealed to us valleys and mountains

never before explored streams; rushing northward, swollen by the

rains, and grand primeval forests, in whose twilight shade no white

man ever walked before.

 

On the 14th the same scenes were witnessed—an unbroken series

of longitudinal ridges, parallel one with another and with Lake

Tanganika. Eastward the faces of these ridges present abrupt

scarps and terraces, rising from deep valleys, while the western

declivities have gradual slopes. These are the peculiar features

of Ukawendi, the eastern watershed of the Tanganika.

 

In one of these valleys on this day we came across a colony of

reddish-bearded monkeys, whose howls, or bellowing, rang amongst

the cliffs as they discovered the caravan. I was not able to

approach them, for they scrambled up trees and barked their

defiance at me, then bounded to the ground as I still persisted

in advancing; and they would have soon drawn me in pursuit if I

had not suddenly remembered that my absence was halting the

Expedition.

 

About noon we sighted our Magdala—the grand towering mount whose

upright frowning mass had attracted our eyes, as it lifted itself

from above the plain in all its grandeur, when we were hurrying

along the great ridge of Rusawa towards the “Crocodile” River.

We recognised the old, mystic beauty of the tree-clad plain around

it. Then it was bleached, and a filmy haze covered it lovingly;

now it was vivid greenness. Every vegetable, plant, herb and

tree, had sprung into quick life—the effect of the rains. Rivers

that ran not in those hot summer days now fumed and rushed

impetuously between thick belts of mighty timber, brawling

hoarsely in the glades. We crossed many of these streams,

all of which are feeders of the Rugufu.

 

Beautiful, bewitching Ukawendi! By what shall I gauge the

loveliness of the wild, free, luxuriant, spontaneous nature

within its boundaries? By anything in Europe? No. By anything

in Asia? Where? India, perhaps. Yes; or say Mingrelia and

Imeritia. For there we have foaming rivers; we have picturesque

hillocks; we have bold hills, ambitious mountains, and

broad forests, with lofty solemn rows of trees, with clean

straight stems, through which you can see far, lengthy vistas,

as you see here. Only in Ukawendi you can almost behold the growth

of vegetation; the earth is so generous, nature so kind and

loving, that without entertaining any aspiration for a residence,

or a wish to breathe the baleful atmosphere longer than is

absolutely necessary, one feels insensibly drawn towards it, as

the thought creeps into his mind, that though all is foul beneath

the captivating, glamorous beauty of the land, the foulness might

be removed by civilized people, and the whole region made as

healthy as it is productive. Even while staggering under the

pressure of the awful sickness, with mind getting more and more

embittered, brain sometimes reeling with the shock of the

constantly recurring fevers—though I knew how the malaria, rising

out of that very fairness, was slowly undermining my constitution,

and insidiously sapping the powers of mind and body—I regarded

the alluring face of the land with a fatuous love, and felt a

certain sadness steal over me as each day I was withdrawing myself

from it, and felt disposed to quarrel with the fate that seemed

to eject me out of Ukawendi.

 

On the ninth day of our march from the shores of the Tanganika we

again perceived our “Magdala Mount,” rising like a dark cloud to

the northeast, by which I knew that we were approaching Imrera,

and that our Icarian attempt to cross the uninhabited jungle of

Ukawendi would soon be crowned with success. Against the

collective counsel of the guides, and hypothetical suggestions of

the tired and hungry souls of our Expedition, I persisted in being

guided only by the compass and my chart. The guides strenuously

strove to induce me to alter my course and strike in a southwest

direction, which, had I listened to them, would have undoubtedly

taken me to South-western Ukonongo, or Northeastern Ufipa.

The veteran and experienced soldiers asked mournfully if I were

determined to kill them with famine, as the road I should have

taken was northeast; but I preferred putting my trust in the

compass. No sun shone upon us as we threaded our way through

the primeval forest, by clumps of jungle, across streams, up

steep ridges, and down into deep valleys. A thick haze covered

the forests; rain often pelted us; the firmament was an

unfathomable depth of grey vapour. The Doctor had perfect

confidence in me, and I held on my way.

 

As soon as we arrived at our camp the men scattered themselves

through the forest to search for food. A grove of singwe trees was

found close by. Mushrooms grew in abundance, and these sufficed to

appease the gnawing hunger from which the people suffered. Had it

not been such rainy weather I should have been enabled to procure

game for the camp; but the fatigue which I suffered, and the fever

which enervated me, utterly prevented me from moving out of the camp

after we once came to a halt. The fear of lions, which were

numerous in our vicinity, whose terrible roaring was heard by day

and by night, daunted the hunters so much, that though I offered

five doti of cloth for every animal brought to camp, none dared

penetrate the gloomy glades, or awesome belts of timber, outside

the friendly defence of the camp.

 

The morning of the tenth day I assured the people that we were

close to food; cheered the most amiable of them with promise of

abundant provender, and hushed the most truculent knaves with a

warning not to tempt my patience too much, lest we came to angry

blows; and then struck away east by north through the forest,

with the almost exhausted Expedition dragging itself weakly and

painfully behind me. It was a most desperate position certainly,

and I pitied the poor people far more than they pitied themselves;

and though I fumed and stormed in their presence when they

were disposed to lie down and give up, never was a man further

from doing them injury. I was too proud of them; but under the

circumstances it was dangerous—nay, suicidal—to appear doubtful

or dubious of the road. The mere fact that I still held on my way

according to the Doctor’s little pearly monitor (the compass) had

a grand moral effect on them, and though they demurred in

plaintive terms and with pinched faces, they followed my

footsteps with a trustfulness which quite affected me.

 

For long miles we trudged over smooth sloping sward, with a vision

of forest and park-land beauty on our right and left, and in front

of us such as is rarely seen. At a pace that soon left the main

body of the Expedition far behind, I strode on with a few gallant

fellows, who, despite their heavy loads, kept pace with me. After

a couple of hours we were ascending the easy slope of a ridge,

which promised to decide in a few minutes the truth or the

inaccuracy of my chart. Presently we arrived at the eastern

edge of the ridge, and about five miles away, and 1,000 feet below

the high plateau on which we stood, we distinguished the valley of

Imrera!

 

By noon we were in our old camp. The natives gathered round,

bringing supplies of food, and to congratulate us upon having gone

to Ujiji and returned. But it was long before the last member of

the Expedition arrived. The Doctor’s feet were very sore,

bleeding from the weary march. His shoes were in a very worn-out

state, and he had so cut and slashed them with a knife to ease his

blistered feet, that any man of our force would have refused them

as a gift, no matter how ambitious he might be to encase his feet

a la Wasungu.

 

Asmani, the guide, was very much taken aback when he discovered

that the tiny compass knew the way better than he did, and he

declared it as his solemn opinion that it could not lie. He

suffered much in reputation from having contested the palm with

the “little thing,” and ever afterwards his boasted knowledge

of the country was considerably doubted.

 

After halting a day to recruit ourselves, we continued our journey

on the 18th January, 1872, towards Unyanyembe. A few miles beyond

Imrera, Asmani lost the road again, and I was obliged to show it to

him, by