CHAPTER IX.

Again in open water—Frank Pocock feels the position—The Mburra or Yaryembi—A running fight—“Ya-Mariwa! Ya-Mariwa!”—Our tactics of capture—Monster spears—Growing weary of fighting for life—The power of laughter—Fish creeks—A wasp swarm of canoes—Another invincible armada—A village of ivory—Relics of cannibal feasts—The Wellé of Schweinfurth—Hunted to despair—Their meat escapes the cannibals—Wild nature—Among friendly natives—The Congo!

_Jan. 28._—We hastened away down river in a hurry, to escape the noise of the cataracts which, for many days and nights, had almost stunned us with their deafening sound.

The Livingstone now deflected to the west-north-west, between hilly banks—

“Where highest woods, impenetrable To star, or sunlight, spread their umbrage broad And brown as evening.”

We are once again afloat upon a magnificent stream, whose broad and grey-brown waters woo us with its mystery. We are not a whit dejected after our terrible experiences; we find our reward in being alive to look upon wild nature, and a strange elasticity comes over us. The boat- boys amuse me by singing their most animating song, to which every member of our Expedition responds with enthusiasm. The men, women, and children are roused to maintain that reckless, exuberant spirit which assisted me to drive through the cannibal region of the Stanley Falls, for otherwise they might lose that dash and vigour on which depends our success. They are apt, if permitted thinking-time, to brood upon our situation, to become disquieted and melancholy, to reflect on the fate of those who have already been lost, and to anticipate a like dolorous ending to their own lives.

I thought even Frank was half affected by the sudden cessation of trouble, and the sight of the now broad tranquil river to which we had been a stranger for some time; for after the boat-boys had become hoarse from chanting, his voice was heard in a doleful and sad strain, of which the words were as follows:—

“The home land, the fair land, Refuge for all distressed, Where pain and sin ne’er enter in, But all is peace and rest.

The home land! I long to meet Those who have gone before; The weeping eyes and weary feet Rest on that happy shore.

The home land, the bright land! My eyes are filled with tears, Remembering all the happy band, Passed from my sight for years.

When will it dawn upon my soul? When shall I meet that strand? By night and day I watch and pray For thee, dear, blest home land.”

I thought the voice trembled as the strain ended; and, lest I should be affected also, by no means a desirable thing, I said cheerily, “Frank, my dear fellow, you will make everybody cry with such tunes as those; they are too lachrymose altogether for our present state. The men are so weak and excited that mournfulness will derange their nerves, and make us all utterly unfit for the work before us. Choose some heroic tune, whose notes will make us all feel afire, and drive our canoes down stream as though we were driven by steam.”

“All right, sir,” he replied with a bright, cheerful face, and sang the following:—

“Brightly gleams our banner, Pointing to the sky, Waving wanderers onward To their home on high.

Journeying o’er the desert Gladly thus we pray, And with hearts united Take our heavenward way.”

“Ah, Frank, it is not the heavenward way you mean, is it? I should think you would prefer the homeward way, for that is the way I pray to be permitted to lead you.”

“How do you like this, sir?” he asked.

“My God, my Father, while I stray, Far from my home, in life’s rough way, O teach me from my heart to say, Thy will be done.

“Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me be still and murmur not, Or breathe the prayer divinely taught, Thy will be done.

“What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved no longer nigh! Submissive would I still reply, Thy will be done.”

“Frank, you are thinking too much of the poor fellows we have lately lost. It is of no use, my son; we have taken the bit in our teeth, and must drive on—drive right through to the sea. The time for regret and sorrow will come by and by, but just now we are in the centre of Africa; savages before you, savages behind you, savages on either side of you. Onward, I say; onward to death, if it is to be. I will not listen to regrets now. Sing, my dear Frank, your best song.”

He responded by singing:—

“Onward, Christian soldiers, Marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus Going on before!”

This was too much for me. I saw that he was in a serious and religious vein of mind, and refrained therefore from disturbing him further. The boat-boys now resumed their barbarous but exhilarating chorus, and again the woods on either side re-echoed with the stirring notes of our boat- song.

At 3 P.M. we arrived at a fine river, 300 yards wide at the mouth, which flowed from the east-south-east, with low wooded banks on either side. After proceeding a mile, we discovered another branch of the same river, about 300 yards wide, the two branches joining at about, two miles above. Subsequently we received two names for it—the Mburra and the Yaryembi—but I believe the Mburra is the correct title for the joint river.

The great stream a mile below the confluence opened out again into a breadth of 2000 yards, and was soon disparted by the broad and fertile island of Ukioba into two branches of equal breadth. We preferred the right branch, which had a course north-west by north for about two miles, when it again deflected to west-north-west. Much of the right bank showed a horizontal substructure of sandstone, with about 10 feet of alluvium above it, and ranged from 20 to 100 feet in height, wooded throughout, except at market-greens and old settlements.

We prepared to camp at one of these abandoned settlements, but a neighbouring community at Usimbi advanced to contest our right to remain on the soil of Koruru, and obliged us to continue our journey. We then chose the lower end of the Ukioba Island, nearly opposite Usimbi; but the stupid aborigines could not understand this forbearance, and, manning their canoes, called on the Wakioba to unite with them in expelling us. This compelled us to defend ourselves, which ended in the dispersion of the people of Koruru, and the capture of one of their war- vessels and five men.

Their canoes differed from those above the Stanley Falls, being capacious, flat-bottomed scows, dug out of a fragrant gum-tree (probably of the genus Boswellia), which grows to very large dimensions in the forests.

_Jan. 29._—On the morning of the 29th we crossed the river, and finding Usimbi abandoned, entered it. The arrangement of the villages was the same as with the Wenya at the Stanley Falls, possessing lateral and transverse streets at right angles, and not consisting, as those on the Upper Livingstone, of one long street. Each house also possessed a court, neatly surrounded with a fence of upright logs. Behind, or on the inland side, the village was protected by two deep ditches, the earth from the excavations being thrown inwards. In the middle of what seemed to be a principal street was a rude wooden figure of a bearded man, under a small conical-shaped roof, which was supported by nine ivory tusks, raised upon a platform of tamped clay, and carefully swept, showing that great care was bestowed upon it. The people appear to have considerable faith in a whitewash of cassava meal, with which they had sprinkled the fences, posts, and lintels of doors, and the stems of the ficus, planted for shade here and there in small plazas. Great drums, 6 feet long, 3 feet deep, and 2 feet wide, resting on broad and solid legs, and carved out of a single log also stood in the plazas.

We released our captives, and then crying out “Bismillah!” continued our voyage down river, which had a breadth of 2500 yards below Ukioba Island. Both banks were high, steep, and wooded. The right bank showed a reddish and rippled sandstone up to a foot above the water-line for a few miles below Usimbi. But the substructure afterwards changed to a greyish calcareous rock, with a perpendicular face varying from 20 to 50 feet high. Numerous creeks, 20 and 25 yards wide, emptied into the great river from the right bank.

At noon, when approaching a large village, we were again assaulted by the aborigines. We drove them back, and obtained a peaceful passage past them, until 1 P.M. During this interval I obtained an observation for latitude, and ascertained we had reached north latitude 0° 22′ 29″.

From 1 P.M. we were engaged with a new tribe, which possessed very large villages, and maintained a running fight with us until 4 P.M., when, observing the large village of Ituka below us, and several canoes cutting across river to head us off, we resolved to make our stand on the shore. Material for constructing a boma was soon discovered in the outlying houses of the village, and by five o’clock we were tolerably secure on the edge of the steep banks—all obstructions cleared away on the land side, and a perfect view of the river front and shore below us.

[Illustration: SHIELDS OF ITUKA PEOPLE.]

The savages were hideously be-painted for war, one-half of their bodies being white, the other ochreous. Their shields were oblong squares, beautifully made of rattan-cane, light, tough, and to spears and knives impenetrable. A square slab of ebony wood with a cleat, and one long thin board placed lengthways, and another crossways, sufficed to stiffen them. Shouting their war-cries—“Ya-Mariwa! Ya-Mariwa!”—they rushed on our boma fences like a herd of buffaloes several times, in one of which charges Muftah Rufiji was killed, a broad spear-blade sharp as a razor ripping nearly eight inches of his abdomen open; another man received a wound from a spear, which had glanced along his back. As the heavy spears hurtled through the boma, or flew over it, very many of us had extremely narrow escapes. Frank, for instance, avoided one by giving his body a slight jerk on one side. We, of course, had the advantage, being protected by doors, roofs of houses, poles, brushwood, and our great Mwana-Ntaba shields, which had been of invaluable use to us, and had often in the heat of fights saved us and made us almost invulnerable.

From the Ruiki river up to this afternoon of January 29th we had fought twenty-four times, and out of these struggles we had obtained sixty-five door-like shields, which upon the commencement of a fight on the river at all times had been raised by the women, children, and non-combatants as bulwarks before the riflemen, from behind which, cool and confident, the forty-three guns were of more avail than though there were 150 riflemen unprotected. The steersmen, likewise protected, were enabled to steer their vessels with the current while we were engaged in these running fights. Against the spears and arrows the shields were impervious.

At sunset our antagonists retired, leaving us to dress our wounds and bury our dead, and to prepare for the morrow by distributing a new store of cartridges; and, after waiting until 9 A.M. next day unattacked, we sailed out and embarked once more.

Below Ituka the river was deflected to north-west by west by a long ridge called Tugarambusa, from 300 to 500 feet high, with perpendicular red cliffs for four miles, until terminated by a point 300 feet high, the summit of which was crowned with a fine forest. Beyond the point we were sheltered by a sandstone bluff, and steep slopes covered by beautiful ferns, and shrubby trees with blossoms like lilacs, which exhaled a delightful fragrance. On the lower portions of the banks, where landslips had occurred, we observed a reddish sandstone capped by yellow clay.

After six miles of these high banks the river flowed west by north half west, while the high banks already mentioned became a ridge, running north-west, leaving a lower level at its base extending to the river, which was highly populous and cultivated.

_Jan. 30._—About ten o’clock of the 30th another conflict began, in the usual way, by a determined assault on us in canoes. By charging under cover of our shields we captured one canoe and eight men, and withdrew to a low grassy islet opposite Yangambi, a settlement consisting of five populous villages. We had discovered by this that nothing cowed the natives so much as a capture, and as it was the most bloodless mode of settling what might have been a protracted affair, I had adopted it. Through our captives we were enabled to negotiate for an unmolested passage, though it involved delay and an expenditure of lung force that was very trying; still, as it ended satisfactorily in many ways, it was preferable to continued fighting. It also increased our opportunities of knowing who our antagonists were, and to begin an acquaintance with these long-buried peoples.

We understood a captive to say that the river here was called Izangi, that the settlements on the right bank were in the country of Koruru, and that on the left bank still extended the country of Yambarri, or Vambari.

When the natives observed us preparing to halt on the grassy islet directly opposite their villages, with their unfortunate friends in our power, they withdrew to their village to consult. The distance between our grassy islet and the right bank was only 500 yards, and as it was the eastern bank the sun shone direct on them; enabling me, with the aid of a field-glass, to perceive even the differences of feature between one man and another.

Though hostilities had ceased, the drumming continued with unabated fury; bass and kettle-drums gave cut a thunderous sound, which must have been heard to an immense distance. The high ridge, which was three miles behind Yangambi, exhibited cultivated slopes and many villages, which discharged their hundreds to the large council-circle sitting down in view of us. Many of the aborigines paraded up and down the banks for our benefit, holding up to our view bright spear-blades, 6 feet in length and 6 inches broad! the sight of which drew curious remarks from my hard-pressed followers.

One, named Mpwapwa, cried out, “Oh, mother, those fellows mean to split a man in two with such spears as those!” Another said, “No, man, those are the spears from their idol temples, for mere show; for were a man to be carved with such a big spear, there would be nothing left of him.” But Baraka, the humourist, opined they were intended to spit children on. A chorus of war-cries sometimes broke out from the immense concourse of people, wherein we could distinguish very plainly the words “Ya, Mariwa!”

While all this was at its height, and as we were unable to comprehend anything that the natives bawled out to us, we placed our captives in their canoe, and, giving each a few shells, motioned them to depart. As the warriors on the bank saw their friends return, they all gathered round the landing-place, and, as they landed, asked scores of questions, the replies to which elicited loud grunts of approval and wonder. The drumming gradually ceased, the war-cries were heard no more, the people left their processions to crowd round their countrymen, and the enormous spear-blades no longer flashed their brightness on us. We waited about an hour, and, taking it for granted that after such a signal instance of magnanimity they would not resume their hostile demeanour, we quietly embarked, and glided down the river unopposed.

Not desirous of risking another encounter this day, we sought the shelter of a wooded island opposite an uninhabited forest, and arranged ourselves in the wild woods with due regard to safety. Yet we were not unobserved. Some stray fishermen gave notice to the populous settlements below, and a furious drumming at once began from each bank, which was maintained without intermission until morning.

The river was gradually increasing in breadth; from 3000 yards it grew to 4000 yards wide. Islands also were more numerous, with dense roofs of green foliage upheld by the trunks of the tall patriarchs. We were getting weary of fighting every day. The strain to which we were exposed had been too long, the incessant, long-lasting enmity shown to us was beginning to make us feel baited, harassed, and bitter. Dared we but dash down by night? Ah, but who could tell us what lay below! Whom could we ask, when everything in the shape of man raised his spear and screamed his rage at us as soon as we were observed!

So we emerged out of the covert and forest shades of the island with soured and embittered feelings. But we would cling to the islands, and close our ears against their infernal noise, and turn our eyes resolutely away from the advancing cannibals until they came within spear-throw of us, and then, why—we will fight again.

_Jan. 31._—We did cling to the islands. An enormous breadth of river—on our right and on our left—separated us from either bank, but it was totally insufficient to win a free passage. We must either sacrifice a few men or women or children to their lust for human meat, or we must sacrifice a few cartridges. Fourteen canoes already lying in wait below Divari Island surprised us by their ferocious precipitancy, but we preferred to lose the cartridges, and after delivering over to them a sufficient number, we crossed the river again, lest there might be more canoes lying in wait, and followed the right bank, where we had a short tussle with a few more Wariwa canoes at Yavunga, which, fortunately for us, was the last trouble we experienced on the 31st. The people of Irendé and Uganja on the left bank had behaved as boisterously as those of Yavunga, and had offended our ears with bold demands for our flesh, and had even affected a chase; but the defeated heroes of Yavunga advised them not to be absurd.

About 10 A.M. we approached, after quite an interval of peace—two hours!—another settlement on the right bank. We sheered off again to the islands. The river was evidently getting wider, and with its increased width the banks became lower, and no longer showed those picturesque hills, tall, wooded ridges, brown, red, or grey bluffs capped with the forest marvels of the tropics, which had so often elicited our admiration. Grassy islets alternated with wooded ones, and these are the haunts of the salt-makers, who extract salt out of the lye. Opposite a large palisaded village called Mawembé, which was holding a market even then, we came to a grassy islet, where were two women in a canoe. We ceased paddling at once. Our blandishments were most effectual on them. They laughed so loud that it appeared as if the market people at Mawembé, 1500 yards from us, must have heard them. Out of real sympathy we too laughed—but whether they were victims of our blandishments or we of theirs, would be difficult to tell. I had heard of the power of negroes to laugh, but I had never realised their powers so thoroughly as when these two women lay back, opened their mouths, and gave forth those surprising volumes of laughter that so perfectly captivated us. They understood the value of beads, and we tossed ten necklaces to them; but all we could understand from them was that the great palisaded village was Mawembé and the country Koruru.

The current finally swept us out of sight of them, and three miles below we discovered another palisaded village, for which we could obtain no name. Grassy islets vomited smoke in dense clouds, but man was such an obnoxious animal in these regions that we dared not seek his acquaintance. At noon I obtained an altitude of the sun, and ascertained that we had reached north latitude 0° 35′ 50″.

The right bank here rose again, high and steep, shadowed with a glorious forest, the islands were wooded to an intense blackness, and between them flowed the river in broad bands of silver. The left bank was so far off that we obtained no view of it! In a recess amid palms and vines and patriarchal trees, bound together by giant creepers of ficus and serpent-like lengths of _Calamus secundiflorus_, we sheltered our weary souls, and thought to do honour to the deity of those lonesome woods, who had reserved this loneliness to protect us in our outlawed state.

_Feb. 1._—The sun came out above the forest, round and large and bright, shooting broad gleams of light into the island shades, and lighting up their gloom until they seemed most envied retreats. Not for us, however. Destiny urged us on. There were no retreats for us. Man refused us, and the forest rejected us, for it had nothing to support us.

Almost straight the river flows—north-west half west. The right bank, to which we again cling, is steep and high, and crowned with solemn woods. At the water line is yellow clay; above it, alluvium and vegetable mould, on which a hundred varieties of tropical plants flourish. Presently we are made aware that we are approaching settlements, by a number of ditches excavated in the lower banks, at an obtuse angle to the course of the river, which during the flooding season will become filled by the full river and the resort of numerous fish. We had observed this before. The larger islands and banks ever since leaving the Stanley Falls, exhibited proofs of that love of the natives for fish which has stimulated them to undertake these laborious excavations, often over a hundred yards in length, to plait huge basket-traps and reedy fences at the mouths of creeks, to manufacture coils of stout rope out of plantain and palm (Hyphene) fibre, large cord nets, to plant great poles in the middle of cataracts, and undeterred by its dangers, to risk their lives daily in fish-catching.

About 8 P.M. we came in view of a market-place, near which there were scores of small canoes. The men at once rushed into them, and advanced all round us. We refrained a long time, but finally, as they began to get brave by our quiescence, and to launch their wooden spears, which they proceeded to do unanimously as soon as somebody cried out “Mutti”—sticks—we were obliged to reply to them with a few shots, which compelled them to scamper away ahead of us. Drums then awakened the whole country, and horns blew deafening blasts. Some canoes pertinaciously followed us. We came about 10 A.M. to another market- green. Here, too, warriors were ready, and the little canoes, like wasps, hovered round us, and again we had recourse to our weapons. The little canoes with loud threats disappeared quickly down river: the land warriors rushed away into the woods. We did not wish to hurry, because the faster we proceeded the quicker we found we were involved in trouble. We therefore loitered languidly: rest was so rare that it became precious when we obtained it.

At noon I observed the sun, and found we were in north latitude 0° 50′ 17″. We resumed our journey, rowing at a steady though not a fast pace. We had descended the river for about an hour when we came again in sight of those waspish little canoes, and from the left bank, 3000 yards off, canoes were seen heading across the river at a terrific pace, while horns blew and drums beat. We heard shouts of defiance, or threats, we knew not which—we had become indifferent to the incessant noise and continued fury.

In these wild regions our mere presence excited the most furious passions of hate and murder, just as in shallow waters a deep vessel stirs up muddy sediments. It appeared to be a necessity, then why should we regret it? Could a man contend with the inevitable?

At 2 P.M., heralded by savage shouts from the wasp swarm, which from some cause or other are unusually exultant, we emerge out of the shelter of the deeply wooded banks in presence of a vast affluent, nearly 2000 yards across at the mouth. As soon as we have fairly entered its waters, we see a great concourse of canoes hovering about some islets, which stud the middle of the stream. The canoe-men, standing up, give a loud shout as they discern us, and blow their horns louder than ever. We pull briskly on to gain the right bank, and come in view of the right branch of the affluent, when, looking up stream, we see a sight that sends the blood tingling through every nerve and fibre of the body, arouses not only our most lively interest, but also our most lively apprehensions—a flotilla of gigantic canoes bearing down upon us, which both in size and numbers utterly eclipse anything encountered hitherto! Instead of aiming for the right bank, we form in line, and keep straight down river, the boat taking position behind. Yet after a moment’s reflection, as I note the numbers of the savages, and the daring manner of the pursuit, and the desire of our canoes to abandon the steady compact line, I give the order to drop anchor. Four of our canoes affect not to listen, until I chase them, and threaten them with my guns. This compelled them to return to the line, which is formed of eleven double canoes, anchored 10 yards apart. The boat moves up to the front, and takes position 50 yards above them. The shields are next lifted by the non-combatants, men, women, and children, in the bows, and along the outer lines, as well as astern, and from behind these, the muskets and rifles are aimed.

[Illustration: MONSTER CANOE.]

We have sufficient time to take a view of the mighty force bearing down on us, and to count the number of the war-vessels which have been collected from the Livingstone and its great affluent. There are fifty- four of them! A monster canoe leads the way, with two rows of upstanding paddles, forty men on a side, their bodies bending and swaying in unison as with a swelling barbarous chorus they drive her down towards us. In the bow, standing on what appears to be a platform, are ten prime young warriors, their heads gay with feathers of the parrot, crimson and grey: at the stern, eight men, with long paddles, whose tops are decorated with ivory balls, guide the monster vessel; and dancing up and down from stem to stern are ten men, who appear to be chiefs. All the paddles are headed with ivory balls, every head bears a feather crown, every arm shows gleaming white ivory armlets. From the bow of the canoe streams a thick fringe of the long white fibre of the Hyphene palm. The crashing sound of large drums, a hundred blasts from ivory horns, and a thrilling chant from two thousand human throats, do not tend to soothe our nerves or to increase our confidence. However, it is “neck or nothing.” We have no time to pray, or to take sentimental looks at the savage world, or even to breathe a sad farewell to it. So many other things have to be done speedily and well.

As the foremost canoe comes rushing down, and its consorts on either side beating the water into foam, and raising their jets of water with their sharp prows, I turn to take a last look at our people, and say to them:—

“Boys, be firm as iron; wait until you see the first spear, and then take good aim. Don’t fire all at once. Keep aiming until you are sure of your man. Don’t think of running away, for only your guns can save you.”

Frank is with the _Ocean_ on the right flank, and has a choice crew, and a good bulwark of black wooden shields. Manwa Sera has the _London Town_—which he has taken in charge instead of the _Glasgow_—on the left flank, the sides of the canoe bristling with guns, in the hands of tolerably steady men.

The monster canoe aims straight for my boat, as though it would run us down; but, when within fifty yards off, swerves aside, and, when nearly opposite, the warriors above the manned prow let fly their spears, and on either side there is a noise of rushing bodies. But every sound is soon lost in the ripping, crackling musketry. For five minutes we are so absorbed in firing that we take no note of anything else; but at the end of that time we are made aware that the enemy is reforming about 200 yards above us.

Their blood is up now. It is a murderous world, and we feel for the first time that we hate the filthy, vulturous ghouls who inhabit it. We therefore lift our anchors, and pursue them up-stream along the right bank, until rounding a point we see their villages. We make straight for the banks, and continue the fight in the village streets with those who have landed, hunt them out into the woods, and there only sound the retreat, having returned the daring cannibals the compliment of a visit.

While mustering my people for re-embarkation, one of the men came forward and said that in the principal village there was a “Meskiti,” a “pembé”—a church, or temple, of ivory—and that ivory was “as abundant as fuel.” In a few moments I stood before the ivory temple, which was merely a large circular roof supported by thirty-three tusks of ivory, erected over an idol 4 feet high, painted with camwood dye, a bright vermilion, with black eyes and beard and hair. The figure was very rude, still it was an unmistakable likeness of a man. The tusks being wanted by the Wangwana, they received permission to convey them into the canoes. One hundred other pieces of ivory were collected, in the shape of log wedges, long ivory war-horns, ivory pestles to pound cassava into meal and herbs for spinach, ivory armlets and balls, and ivory mallets to beat the fig-bark into cloth.

[Illustration: THE FIGHT BELOW THE CONFLUENCE OF THE ARUWIMI AND THE LIVINGSTONE RIVERS.]

The stores of beautifully carved paddles, 10 feet in length, some of which were iron-pointed, the enormous six-feet-long spears, which were designed more for ornament than use, the splendid long knives, like Persian kummars, and bright iron-mounted sheaths with broad belts of red buffalo and antelope-hide, barbed spears, from the light assegai to the heavy double-handed sword-spear, the tweezers, hammers, prickers, hole- burners, hairpins, fishhooks, arm and leg-rings of iron and copper, iron beads and wrist-bands, iron bells, axes, war-hatchets, adzes, hoes, dibbers, &c., proved the people on the banks of this river to be clever, intelligent, and more advanced in the arts than any hitherto observed since we commenced our descent of the Livingstone. The architecture of their huts, however, was the same, except the conical structure they had erected over their idol. Their canoes were much larger than those of the Mwana Ntaba, above the Stanley Falls, which had crocodiles and lizards carved on them. Their skull-caps of basket-work, leopard, civet, and monkey skins, were similar to those that we had observed in Uregga. Their shields were like those of the Wariwa. There were various specimens of African wood-carving in great and small idols, stools of ingenious pattern, double benches, walking-staffs, spear-staffs, flutes, grain-mortars, mallets, drums, clubs, troughs, scoops and canoe-balers, paddles, porridge spoons, &c. Gourds also exhibited taste in ornamentation. Their earthenware was very superior, their pipes of an unusual pattern—in short, everything that is of use to a well-found African village exhibited remarkable intelligence and prosperity.

Evidences of cannibalism were numerous in the human and “soko” skulls that grinned on many poles, and the bones that were freely scattered in the neighbourhood, near the village garbage heaps and the river banks, where one might suppose hungry canoe-men to have enjoyed a cold collation on an ancient matron’s arm. As the most positive and downright evidence, in my opinion, of this hideous practice, was the thin forearm of a person that was picked up near a fire, with certain scorched ribs which might have been tossed into the fire after being gnawed. It is true that it is but circumstantial evidence, yet we accepted them as indubitable proofs. Besides, we had been taunted with remarks that we would furnish them with meat supplies—for the words _meat_ and _to-day_ have but slight dialectic difference in many languages.

[Illustration: PADDLE OF THE ARUWIMI CANNIBALS.]

We embarked in our canoes at 5 P.M., and descending the affluent came to the confluence again, and then, hugging the right bank, appeared before other villages; but after our successful resistance to such a confederation of chiefs and the combined strength of three or four different tribes, it was not likely that one small settlement would risk an encounter. We anchored about 50 yards from the shore. Two old men advanced to the edge of the steep bank and rattled pebbles, which were enclosed in basket-work, towards us. We sat perfectly still for about five minutes regarding them, and then we endeavoured to open a conversation with them. We could understand but a few dozen words, which we had managed to pick up. We understood them, however, to say that the river where we had just had the fight was called the Aruwimi, that the right branch of the great river was called Irondo, and the left, Rinda; that the district between the confluence of the Aruwimi and the Livingstone was Isangi, in Koruru. The country on the left bank was still Yambarri, or Vambari, but ahead, or below Yambarri, were the Baonda and the Wakunga; on the right bank, below them, were the Bemberri.

The direction of the Aruwimi was from east-north-east magnetic, or north-east true. It emptied into the Livingstone at a point three hundred and forty geographical miles north of Nyangwé. Though comparatively shallow and studded with islands, it is the most important affluent of the Livingstone from the countries east. I have no hesitation in pronouncing it to be the Wellé of Schweinfurth. The report that he received from the natives, that the Wellé at a long distance from the Monbuttu “widened into a boundless expanse of water,” and that its general direction was west or north of west, ought not to receive greater credence than the report which the natives all along the Livingstone gave me, that the great river went “north, ever north.” As we follow the Luama from its source to the great river, and know the utmost reach north of the Tanganika, and have touched more than once that central elevated region in whose bosom are found the Lakes Albert Muta-Nzigé, Alexandra, and Tanganika, we may be supposed to have a rational idea of the eastern and western watershed of the central regions. If we continue our suppositions, which are founded upon a long study of the hydrographical system of this region, we may suppose the Wellé to drain the most extreme north-eastern corner of the Livingstone basin, and, imitating the curve of the mighty river, to maintain a north-westerly and westerly direction for a degree, or perhaps two degrees, and then, skirting closely the watershed that separates the basin of the Livingstone from that of the south-western Nile, the Benué, and the Shari basins, to meet some obstructing hill, and be deflected south-west into the Livingstone. In the same manner as we suppose the course of the Wellé to be, the Luama proceeds north from Southern Goma to Umené, then west, through Manyema to the Lualaba. The Urindi is reported to flow in the same manner, but the best example of this curious curve which belongs to the system of the Livingstone is the great river itself, which maintains a northerly course for over twelve degrees of latitude, a westerly course across three degrees of longitude, and a south-westerly or a diagonal course across ten degrees of longitude. The largest southern influent of the Livingstone flows 1100 miles northward before it turns west and south-west. The course of the Kwango and the Lumami are other evidences to prove that this extraordinary curve is a characteristic of the river system of the Livingstone and its feeders.

If other evidences were wanting to confirm this supposition, I might point to the cannibalistic propensities of the people, their superiority in the domestic arts of the African, the weapons and shields, their idols, their peculiar canoes, the stores of camwood, the prodigious height and girth of trees, the character of the vegetation—which resembles what the German traveller has written of the Monbuttu and Wellé valley.

At the same tim