CHAPTER XIV.

YAMBUYA CAMP TO ALBERT NYANZA.

On the march--First skirmish with natives--The rapids--The Nepoko--Meeting with Arabs--A devastated region--Famine--Desertions--In the forest for 160 days--Through villages and fields--The chief Mazamboni--Declaration of war--Forward for the Nyanza!

Leaving Yambuya on the 28th of June 1887, the caravan for the first day followed the bank of the river. For a time the road was practicable, but a difficulty soon began to present itself from the creepers, varying from an inch to a foot in thickness, that interlaced themselves in arches across the path, and had to be cut away with hatchets.

On the following day the column made its encampment at Yankondé, a considerable village just opposite the rapids. As the river was found to be taking too northerly a direction, a course had to be made across the manioc fields and through a teeming population. Every device that the natives could invent to molest and impede the advance of the caravan was adopted. Repeatedly shallow holes were dug in the path, and these were filled with sharp spikes, cunningly concealed by leaves. To those who walked over them barefooted the agony was terrible; the feet were not only severely lacerated, but frequently the spikes would remain in the flesh and cause gangrenous sores. Ten men were so crippled in this way as to be almost _hors de combat_. At the approach to each village there was usually a straight, well-cleared pathway, about one hundred yards long and four yards wide, and these were literally bristling with the skewers, always artfully hidden from sight. The proper paths would have led by a considerable _détour_, but these were made to have the most inviting aspect. At the entrance of each village a sentinel had been placed with a drum to sound out an alarm.

The river-bank was regained on the 5th of July, and as there are no rapids immediately in front, Stanley brought his boat into requisition, and found it of inestimable service, as it not only conveyed the sick and wounded, but also carried two tons of baggage. In his first letter to Major Barttelot he wrote:--“If I had to begin over again I should collect the largest canoes I could, and an adequate supply of rowers, and I should use them for the sick and for baggage. Between Yambuya and the Nyanza the canoes are many and capacious enough, but unfortunately, the Zanzibaris are miserably poor hands at rowing. There are scarcely fifty men in my whole troop who know how to handle a paddle. We can do as much in one day by land, as in two by water.”

Onwards from the 15th of July to the 18th of October the column kept continually to the left bank of the Aruwimi, making no deviation. The sufferings of the men, the vast extent of the forest with its numberless intricacies, the unwholesome atmosphere, the almost incessant rain, altogether combined to make it unadvisable to venture far away from the river, where at any rate there was a tolerable certainty of procuring food from the villages on its border.

Hereabouts, the Aruwimi varies from 500 to 900 yards in width, its course broken by islands, single and in groups, which are the resort of oyster-fishermen. Insects of many kinds, flies and butterflies especially, are innumerable; for hours every day swarms of these butterflies may be seen crossing over the water. The villages succeeded one after another well-nigh without a break, their united population reckoning many thousands, and belonging chiefly to the tribes of the Banalya, the Bakubana and the Bungangeta. As might be expected, throughout the district there was abundance of food.

On the 9th of July the caravan reached the rapids of Gwengweré, the region being still quite populous. Although the villages are so continuous, the residents appear to belong to a number of different small tribes; as immediately at the rapids the people are Bakoka, only a little higher up they are Bapupa, Bandangi, and Banali, and further inland are Bambalulu and Baburu. These last occupy a considerable region, and give the Aruwimi the name of “Lubali.”

At this period the mornings were generally dark and gloomy, the sky obscured by heavy clouds. Occasionally everything was in a dense fog, which did not clear off until nine o’clock, and sometimes not much before midday. In this dim condition of the atmosphere nothing stirred; the insects seemed asleep; death-like silence reigned through the forest; the river in its dark fringe of massy vegetation lay mute and sombre as a grave. If rain did not follow, and the sun began to disperse the mists, as light penetrated the vapour everything would again start into life; butterflies sport in the air, the solitary ibis raise its note of alarm, the diving-bird plunge into the stream; there would be movement all around. Suddenly, the drum was heard, the natives from afar had descried the advancing troop, and shouting vociferously had seized their glistening spears, and were ready for hostilities.

Encampment was made, on July 17th, at the rapids of Mariri, beyond which, on both sides of the river, resides a large number of the Mupé. Up to this point there is no real cataract; the rapids are formed by reefs of rock between which the waters force a passage, but they so entirely prevent navigation that boats have to be unloaded and carried, as well as their cargoes, beyond the limits of the obstruction.

Beyond the Mupé, towards the north, is the tribe of the Bandeya; in the interior are the Batua, to the east the Mabode, and on the south the Bundiba, the Binyali, and the Bakongo.

At Mugwyé, above the Bandeya rapids, stands a group of seven villages surrounded by magnificent banana plantations and manioc fields, extending over an area of some miles. Here a whole day was lost in bartering for provisions, at very costly rates. The distrustful and unconciliatory spirit of the natives was very great, so that at a large outlay of cowries and brass rods only a few ears of corn could be procured for about a third part of the caravan.

Above Mugwyé are the Panga Falls, having a descent of about 30 feet; and these are succeeded by the Nejambi rapids.

During the next ten days the services of three porters were lost, two of them having deserted, and one having died of dysentery. These were the only casualties since the start, so that for thirty-four days the course, as Stanley said, had been “singularly successful.”

But the expedition had now to enter upon a wilderness, through which it took nine days to march. Sufferings began to be aggravated, so that several deaths occurred. Fortunately, the river was available for some distance, and canoes could be employed in relieving the disabled of their loads, and thus progress, if not so rapid as at first, was still steady.

On August 13th the expedition arrived at Air-Sibba. Here the natives showed an angry front, apparently resolved to oppose the passage of the caravan. Five men were killed by poisoned arrows. Lieutenant Stairs was wounded just below the heart, but although he suffered severely for more than a month, he happily recovered.

The porters were obliged to take every possible precaution against these destructive weapons, which were here in such free use. When the poison is fresh a wound is invariably mortal. The injury to Lieutenant Stairs was not improbably caused by an arrow of which the poison had lost its efficacy, so that he was nearly convalescent after some weeks, although the wound was some time longer before it was thoroughly healed. A man who received a slight scratch on the wrist died in five days of tetanus; another who was touched in the muscle of the arm near the shoulder lived only a few hours longer; and a third, slightly cut on the throat, succumbed in about the same time also, a victim to lock-jaw.

Stanley made every endeavour to find out whence this deadly poison was obtained. He observed in the huts various packets of dried red ants. He thus knew that the bodies of the ants, after being dried and ground to powder, were cooked in palm-oil, and that this was the composition that was applied to the spear-heads, and made them such fatal missiles.

On July 25th the encampment was at Air-Jali, the point of confluence of the Nepoko with the Aruwimi.

The Nepoko comes from the north, and is the river of which Dr. Junker explored the source near the residence of the Mombuttu chief Sanga. At its mouth it is more than 300 yards wide, and falls into the Aruwimi by a cataract.

From the Congo to the Nepoko the banks of the Aruwimi are almost uniformly low, never exceeding an altitude of 40 feet; higher up their elevation becomes greater, and they are frequently crowned with forests of palm-trees, the stems of some of which are as gigantic as any of those which grow on the Lower Congo. The natives have a singular method of clearing the woods: having constructed a platform some 16 feet high, they cut down the trees, hundreds at a time, to this level, so that at first sight a tract of land that has been subject to this treatment presents very much the appearance of a city of ruined temples.

The stream seems to be a boundary line between two distinctive styles of building; below the point of confluence all the huts are conical; but above it, the villages are all composed of square huts, generally surrounded by tall logs of the Rubiaceæ wood, which form a sort of outwork, offering a good position for defence for men with firearms, and requiring a considerable force to overcome and capture.

Navigation henceforward, becomes more difficult; above the Nepoko, rapids are frequent, and there are two falls of some magnitude. The country rises gradually for 400 miles from Yambuya, and at last the river is shut in by the vertical walls of a cañon, and its breadth confined to a channel that is scarcely 100 yards across. All along, whatever diversities may characterise the soil, one uniform feature prevails, inasmuch as mountain peaks, plains and valleys are all covered with forest, and there is not an open space that has not been cleared by the hand of man.

For some days longer the course of the Aruwimi was followed, until it became impossible to contend with the increasing vehemence of the stream. The boat and canoes had to be unloaded.

Only after two months, at the end of August, could real misfortunes be said to begin. In choosing the Aruwimi route Stanley had been influenced by the hope that he should avoid the Arabs who so frequently entice the porters to desert. Disappointed in his design, he now fell in with one of their caravans, meeting a party of Manyema, belonging to a certain Ugarrowwa, otherwise known as Uledi Balyuz, who had formerly been in Speke’s service as a tent-boy. As if to verify Stanley’s forebodings, within three days of the _rencontre_ twenty-six of his followers had disappeared.

Ugarrowwa’s station was further up on the right hand bank of the river. The caravan reached the spot on the 16th of September, but as he had so completely devastated the country that food was scarce, only a brief halt was made. Stanley, however, left fifty-six of his men with Ugarrowwa, engaging to pay him five dollars a month each for their keep. It would have been certain death for the men to have to proceed with the caravan in their debilitated condition, while with a few weeks’ rest they were not unlikely to recover their strength. On starting again the expedition, all told, amounted to 266 men. Of the 388 men who had originally set out from Yambuya, 66 had been lost by desertion and death, and 56 more had to be left sick at the Arab station.

Another Arab settlement was reached on the 15th of October. This was the headquarters of Kilonga-Longa, once a Zanzibari slave belonging to Abed-ben-Salim, an old trader whose bloody deeds are recorded in “The Congo and the Founding of its Free State.”

The month of October was, as Stanley has said, “an awful month;” no member of the expedition, white or black, will ever forget it. The entire region had been so thoroughly laid waste by the Arabs that not a single native hut had been left standing. Whatever had not been ransacked by Kilonga’s slaves had been uprooted by elephants, so that the district was one vast wilderness. The reserve of provisions having been exhausted, the men were obliged, as best they could, to exist upon wild fruit and different sorts of fungus.

On attempting to renew the march, the porters were found to be so weak that they were quite unable to carry the boat and the diminished loads; and thus it was that they had to be left where they were, under the supervision of Dr. Parke and Captain Nelson, the latter of whom was incapable of proceeding farther without rest. To add to the general misfortune, the men who were in condition to go on had allowed themselves to be so miserably cheated and plundered by the slaves, who took their rifles, their ammunition, and even their clothing, that when they set out afresh, they were in a state of beggary and naked. To such distress was the expedition now reduced.

After twelve days’ perseverance in a most painful march, the caravan arrived at a native village, called Ibwiri. It proved to be a populous place and well supplied with provisions; but so dire had been the effect of the privation endured for successive weeks that the men had become mere skeletons. Of the 266 who had made a start from Ugarrowwa’s quarters, only 174 survived to reach Ibwiri.

A halt for thirteen days was made at Ibwiri, an opportunity that was enjoyed by the men, who feasted abundantly upon goat-flesh, poultry, bananas, yams, and all the good things that seemed inexhaustible. So beneficial was the effect that when mustered for another start on November 24th, they were all sleek and robust, and so revived in spirits that they were ready to follow Stanley to the world’s end.

It is true that there was still a journey before them of 126 miles before the Nyanza would be reached, but now in recruited strength and with plenty of food such a distance counted for nothing.

On arriving on the 1st of December at the summit of an elevated ridge, they were able to see the open country where their endurances would all come to an end. They were now leaving behind them the dark interminable forest; the gloom that had overshadowed them for 160 days was becoming a thing of the past; they were about to emerge upon the open plain.

Stanley himself thus writes of this period:--“Try and imagine some of our inconveniences. Take a thick Scottish copse, dripping with rain; imagine this copse to be a mere undergrowth, nourished under the impenetrable shade of ancient trees, ranging from 100 to 180 feet high; briars and thorns abundant; lazy creeks meandering through the jungle, and sometimes a deep affluent of a great river. Imagine this forest and jungle in all stages of decay and growth, old trees falling, leaning perilously over, fallen prostrate; ants and insects of all kinds, sizes, and colours murmuring around; monkeys and chimpanzees above, queer noises of birds and animals, crashes in the jungle as troops of elephants rush away; dwarfs with poisoned arrows securely hidden behind some buttress or in some dark recess; strong brown-bodied aborigines with terribly sharp spears standing poised, still as dead stumps; rain pattering down upon you every other day; an impure atmosphere, with its dread consequences, fever and dysentery; gloom throughout the day, and dark almost palpable throughout the night; then if you will imagine such a forest extending the entire distance from Plymouth to Peterhead, you will have a fair idea of some of the inconveniences endured by us from June 28th to December 5th, 1887.”

In another letter Stanley further writes: “After 160 days’ continuous gloom we saw the light of broad day shining all around us and making all things beautiful. We thought we had never seen grass so green, nor country so lovely. The men literally yelled and leaped for joy, and raced over the ground with their burdens. Ah! this was the old spirit of former expeditions successfully completed all of a sudden revived. Woe betide the native aggressor we may meet, however powerful he may be; with such a spirit the men will fling themselves like wolves on sheep. Numbers will not be considered. It had been the eternal forest that had made them abject slavish creatures, so brutally plundered by Arab slaves at Kilonga-Longa’s.”

Yet these were the very men who had turned a deaf ear to prayers and entreaties when, a few weeks previously, their intrepid leader had tried to rally them by saying: “Beyond these raiders lies a country untouched, where food is abundant, and where you will forget your miseries; so cheer up, boys; be men, press on a little faster.”

A few days more and the expedition entered the territory of the Bakumu, of which the different tribes extend to the south-west nearly as far as Stanley Falls. Their chief on the Aruwimi is the powerful Mazamboni. Their villages are numerous and large. As a rule they consist of a single street, from 10 to 20 yards in width, bordered by huts that are nearly uniform in size and height, and placed so close together as not unfrequently to look like a single structure 200, 300, or even 400 yards long. Cultivated fields and pasture-lands enclose them all.

Here the natives again had sighted the caravan from a long distance, and at once set themselves in array to resist its progress. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when Stanley led his column into the centre of a group of villages, and at once set to work to construct a zeriba as fast as billhooks could hack down the brushwood. Meanwhile the war-cry could be heard pealing from hill to hill; the natives gathered themselves by hundreds from every point; the noise of war-horns and drums made it plain that a struggle must ensue. Some assailants, over venturous, were soon repelled, and a brief skirmish ended in the capture of a cow. It provided the men with the first meal of beef which they had tasted since they left the ocean!

The night passed peacefully, both sides making preparations for the morrow. The natives were anxious to know who the intruders were, whence they had come, whither they were going, and what were their designs. The Europeans, on the other hand, wanted all the information they could get about the country and its resources. Hours were spent in talking, both parties keeping at due distance from each other.

From the natives it was gathered that they were subject to Uganda, but that Kabrega was their true sovereign, and that now Mazamboni was holding the country for Kabrega. As the upshot of the interview they accepted some cloth and brass-rods to show their chief, who would return an answer the next day.

It was somewhat startling the following morning to hear a man proclaiming that it was Mazamboni’s decision that the caravan must be driven back and expelled from the land. A vehement shouting arose from the valleys, and two arrows were shot into the camp. Thus war was declared. The camp was situated between two ranges of hills, one above and one below. The upper range was seen to be lined with hundreds of natives preparing to descend, and nearly as many seemed mustering in the valley.

There was no time to lose. Forthwith Stanley hurried forth a detachment of forty men under Lieutenant Stairs to attack the valley, whilst Mr. Jephson was sent with thirty men to the east. A choice body of sharpshooters was also sent to test the courage of those descending the mountain.

The resistance did not last long. Lieutenant Stairs crossed a deep and narrow river in the face of hundreds of natives, and took the first village by assault. The sharpshooters did their work well, and drove the descending natives rapidly up the slope, until there was a general flight. Meantime Jephson was not idle; he marched straight up the valley to the east, driving the people back and taking their villages as he went. By 3 P.M. there was not a native visible anywhere within a mile and a half.

On the morning of the 12th, the march was continued. During that day and the following day there were some skirmishes, but only of slight importance.

The course was now due east. The Ituri, as the Aruwimi is here called, had been left behind, and the caravan was now on the top of the plateau. About 1 P.M. a shout was heard from Stanley: “Now, men, look out! prepare for a sight of the Nyanza!” The people were doubtful; they kept murmuring: “Why does the master keep talking to us in this way? Nyanza, indeed! Isn’t it all a plain? and do we not see mountains for four days’ march ahead?” But it was true, nevertheless. Within half an hour they could see the Nyanza below them: the great goal and object of their journey was lying expanded at their feet. A cheer rose involuntarily: “Hurrah for the Nyanza!” The negroes who had mistrusted the assurances of their leader came running to kiss his hands and to ask pardon for their incredulity.

There on the summit of Baker’s Blue Mountains, on the ridge between the basins of the Congo and the Nile, stood Stanley to enjoy his triumph and to feel that he had his reward. The lake which was navigated by Emin’s steamers was outstretched in front of him. The huts of Kavalli, the objective point of the expedition, were but six miles away. With what impatience had the explorer traced the lessening of the long itinerary on his map! With what ardour had he mounted the elevation that overlooks the Aruwimi region! With what eagerness had he crossed the plain on which both Nile and Congo take their origin! With what anxiety had he scanned the distant view, and peered through the foliage of the palms to catch a glimpse of the lake that he knew should be close at hand! And there it was! Its waters were sparkling before his eyes. It was reached at last!

At what cost the end had been attained it is hard to realise: the endurance, the effort, and the determination by which it was achieved none but those devoted followers who undauntedly kept true to their master can actually know.

Thus on the confines of Emin’s province, it became Stanley’s next concern to put himself into direct communication with Emin, so that he should be apprised of the arrival of the expedition that had come out for his relief.

But where was he? Was Emin within reach?

On leaving Cairo in January 1887, Stanley had had no later news of Emin Pasha than what had been brought by Dr. Junker in the previous year. Three years therefore had elapsed, and what might not have transpired in the time? There was room for many speculations. What had been happening in the Soudan? Had the Mahdists made any fresh advance towards the south? Had the natives in the Upper Nile remained submissive? Had the black soldiers and the Egyptian officers kept faithful? Might not Emin and Casati have fallen victims to treachery, and shared the fate of Gordon? Although Wolseley had reached his goal, had he not arrived too late?

Happily, however, there was no need for these apprehensions. Although Stanley himself for seven months in the untraversed woods of Africa had been cut off from communication with the world, and was ignorant of the situation, Europe had already been apprised of the safety both of the Pasha and his companion, by letters received from them on the East Coast.

Both men were free. Since Dr. Junker’s departure nothing had occurred to disturb the peace of the province, and although the store of provisions was getting low, the troops had remained faithful in their allegiance, and the Egyptian flag still floated unchallenged over the fourteen stations and two steamers on the Upper Nile.

The approach of Stanley’s expedition, by the way of the Congo, had been already made known to Emin by messengers who had left Zanzibar in January, arriving at the lake in May. The arrival of the relief party was consequently expected. On August 15, 1887, Emin had written from Wadelai to his friend Dr. Felkin in Edinburgh, and mentioned that he had despatched some messengers to the south-west to make inquiries about Stanley; and in November he wrote again to Zanzibar, saying: “All well; on best terms with chiefs and people: will be leaving shortly for Kibiro, on east of Lake Albert. Have sent reconnoitring party to look out for Stanley, which had to return with no news yet. Stanley expected about December 15th.”

Casati had also received information of what Stanley was doing; but less sanguine than Emin, he estimated approximately that the arrival of the caravan would be about the following March. On the 5th of December he wrote from Giuaïa to his friend Captain Camperio: “For my part, I do not believe that Stanley will arrive yet. No news even of the most vague character has yet reached us from the west. I am, in my own mind, convinced that unless fortune has signally smiled upon his enterprise, he cannot be expected here until March.”

Eight days after sending his letter, if Casati had been using his telescope, and scanning the shores of Lake Nyanza, he might have descried a concourse of men on the summit of the plateau; he might have seen that the mass was in motion, and would not have been long in concluding that here was the caravan for which they were on the look-out. It had actually touched the margin of the lake on the very day that had been forecast by Emin!

Nevertheless, before the three brave adventurers were to meet, four months had yet to elapse.