Chapter XVI

A DISAPPOINTMENT.--NOT TUCKEY'S FURTHEST.--BUILDING NEW CANOES.--THE _LIVINGSTONE_, _STANLEY_, AND _JASON_.--FALLS BELOW INKISI.--FRANK POCOCK DROWNED.--STANLEY'S GRIEF.--_IN MEMORIAM_.--MUTINY IN CAMP.--HOW IT WAS QUELLED.--LOSS OF THE _LIVINGSTONE_.--THE CHIEF CARPENTER DROWNED.--ISANGILA CATARACT.--TUCKEY'S SECOND SANGALLA.--ABANDONING THE BOATS.--OVERLAND TO BOMA.--THE EXPEDITION STARVING.--A LETTER ASKING HELP.--VOLUNTEER COURIERS.--DELAYS AT STARTING.--VAIN EFFORTS TO BUY FOOD.--A DREARY MARCH.--SUFFERINGS OF STANLEY'S PEOPLE.--THE LEADER'S ANXIETY.

Fred took the chair the next day, and resumed the narrative at the point where it was dropped by his cousin. He turned several leaves of the book in slow succession, and said as he did so:

"Mr. Stanley was destined to be greatly disappointed. In passing Inkisi Falls, he felt certain that he had at last reached Tuckey's Cataract, and henceforth would have an uninterrupted passage to the sea. But he soon found that there were other and larger cataracts to be passed, and as he had lost nine of his canoes he was in great need of an addition to his fleet. While the transport party and the natives were busy hauling the canoes around Inkisi Falls, taking them first to the table-land, twelve hundred feet high, and then down again, the carpenters were set to cutting down two of the largest trees and hollowing them out for boats. Two boats, the _Livingstone_ and the _Stanley_, were then made; the former, hewn from a single log of teak, was fifty-four feet long, two feet four inches deep, and three feet two inches wide. The _Stanley_ was not so large, but she proved an excellent boat, and was a credit to her builders. Afterwards a third boat was completed, to take the place of the _Jason_, which was lost at Kalulu Falls.

"The country around Inkisi Falls was covered with fine timber. Mr. Stanley tells us that many of the trees were twelve feet and upwards in circumference, and their trunks were without branches for forty or fifty feet. The teak tree from which the _Livingstone_ was made was thirteen feet three inches in circumference, and when prostrate on the ground gave a branchless log fifty-five feet in length.

"The work of descending the various rapids and falls below Inkisi," said Fred, "was much like what had engaged the time and attention of the explorers since their departure from Stanley Pool. In some instances the boats were run through the rapids where it was thought they could be carried safely; in others they were lowered by means of cables, and at the worst falls they were dragged overland in the manner already described. In the passage of the Mowa Rapids the _Lady Alice_ struck the rocks, and was so severely injured that the repair of the boat took an entire day's labor by Mr. Stanley and Frank Pocock. Even then she took water badly, and with their limited materials it was found impossible to stop the leak properly. They were finally able to do so, with some beeswax which was brought to them by the natives.

"The third of June was a melancholy day for Mr. Stanley, as it was marked by the drowning of Frank Pocock, his last remaining white companion. The circumstances were these:

"Frank had been suffering from ulcers upon his feet and was unable to walk. Mr. Stanley had gone from the camp at Mowa to establish a new camp above the falls of Zinga, three miles lower down the Congo. Orders had been given for the boats to be lowered carefully down the rapids, while Frank was to be carried in a hammock. The hammock-bearers did not arrive as soon as expected, and as the _Jason_, under the command of the skilful Uledi, was starting to descend the rapids, Frank insisted upon being taken on board. In the rapids the boat was overturned in a whirlpool, and out of its eleven occupants three were drowned, among them "the little master," as Frank was called by the men of the expedition. His body was found by a fisherman, four or five days later, floating in the water below the rapids. Mr. Stanley gave the locality the name of Pocock Basin, in memory of the friend and companion whose loss he so deeply mourned that for some days he was hardly able to attend to the pressing duties of his position.

Drowned June 3, 1877.]

"Of his feelings on this sad occasion Mr. Stanley says:

"As I looked at the empty tent and the dejected, woe-stricken
servants, a choking sensation of unutterable grief filled me. The
sorrow-laden mind fondly recalled the lost man's inestimable
qualities, his extraordinary gentleness, his patient temper, his
industry, cheerfulness, and his tender friendship; it dwelt upon
the pleasure of his society, his general usefulness, his piety, and
cheerful trust in our success, with which he had renewed our hope
and courage; and each new virtue that it remembered only served to
intensify my sorrow for his loss, and to suffuse my heart with pity
and regret, that after the exhibition of so many admirable
qualities and such long, faithful service, he should depart this
life so abruptly, and without reward.

"When curtained about by anxieties, and the gloom created by the
almost insurmountable obstacles we encountered, his voice had ever
made music in my soul. When grieving for the hapless lives that
were lost, he consoled me. But now my friendly comforter and
true-hearted friend was gone! Ah, had some one then but relieved me
from my cares, and satisfied me that my dark followers would see
their Zanjian homes again, I would that day have gladly ended the
struggle, and, crying out, 'Who dies earliest dies best,' have
embarked in my boat and dropped calmly over the cataracts into
eternity."

"A few days after the death of Frank Pocock," continued Fred, there was a mutinous outbreak in the camp, many of the men refusing to work. They said they would rather be slaves to the natives than stay where almost every day some of their number were drowned in the river. Thirty-one of the men packed up their property and left the camp. Mr. Stanley sent Kachéché, the detective, after them, and he also interested the chiefs of the tribes around Zinga to arrest the mutineers and bring them back to camp.

"Diplomacy and force combined secured the return of the rebellious men, and they were fully pardoned for their defection. Mr. Stanley pointed out to them the necessity of pushing forward, and on the morning after they came back everybody went at work with a will to pass the dreaded Zinga Fall.

"Assisted by one hundred and fifty Zinga natives whom Mr. Stanley had hired, three of the boats were drawn up to the level of the rocky point above Zinga Fall on the morning of June 23d. The fourth boat was the _Livingstone_, whose construction has been described; it weighed about three tons, and when only a short distance above the shore the cable snapped and the boat slid back into the river. The chief carpenter of the expedition clung to it, and in the excitement of the moment he sprang into it just as it left the shore. Being unable to swim, he could not save himself, and was carried over the fall. Neither the carpenter nor the boat were ever seen again. It is supposed that the boat was jammed and caught among the rocks at the bottom of the river, where it was driven by the terrible force of the cataract.

"For another month and more the steadily diminishing band of explorers toiled among the rapids and cataracts of the Congo, and on the 30th of July drew their boats into a little cove about fifty yards above the Isangila cataract, the 'Second Sangalla' of Captain Tuckey. Here Mr. Stanley learned that Embomma, or Boma, was only five days away by land, and that there were three other cataracts, besides several rapids, before permanently smooth water could be reached. And here," said Fred, "I will turn to the book and read Mr. Stanley's account of how the explorers reached the sea."

"There was not the slightest doubt in my mind that the Isangila
cataract was the second Sangalla of Captain Tuckey and Professor
Smith, and that the Sanga Yellala of Tuckey and the Sanga Jelalla
of Smith was the Nsongo Yellala, though I could not induce the
natives to pronounce the words as the members of the unfortunate
Congo Expedition of 1816 spelled them.

"As the object of the journey had now been attained, and the great
river of Livingstone had been connected with the Congo of Tuckey, I
saw no reason to follow it farther, or to expend the little
remaining vitality we possessed in toiling through the last four
cataracts.

"I announced, therefore, to the gallant but wearied Wangwana that
we should abandon the river and strike overland for Embomma. The
delight of the people manifested itself in loud and fervid
exclamations of gratitude to Allah! Quadruple ration-money was also
distributed to each man, woman, and child; but, owing to the
excessive poverty of the country, and the keen trading instincts
and avaricious spirit of the aborigines, little benefit did the
long-enduring, famine-stricken Wangwana derive from my liberality.

"Fancy knick-knacks, iron spears, knives, axes, copper, brass wire,
were then distributed to them, and I emptied the medicine out of
thirty vials, and my private clothes-bags, blankets, waterproofs,
every available article of property that might be dispensed with,
were also given away, without distinction of rank or merit, to
invest in whatever eatables they could procure. The 31st of July
was consequently a busy day, devoted to bartering, but few Wangwana
were able to boast at evening that they had obtained a tithe of the
value of the articles they had sold, and the character of the food
actually purchased was altogether unfit for people in such poor
condition of body.

"At sunset we lifted the brave boat, after her adventurous journey
across Africa, and carried her to the summit of some rocks about
five hundred yards north of the fall, to be abandoned to her fate.
Three years before, Messenger of Teddington had commenced her
construction; two years previous to this date she was coasting the
bluffs of Uzongora on Lake Victoria; twelve months later she was
completing her last twenty miles of the circumnavigation of Lake
Tanganika, and on the 31st of July, 1877, after a journey of nearly
seven thousand miles up and down broad Africa, she was consigned to
her resting-place above the Isangili cataract, to bleach and to rot
to dust!

* * * * *

"A wayworn, feeble, and suffering column were we when, on the 1st
of August, we filed across the rocky terrace of Isangila and
sloping plain, and strode up the ascent to the table-land. Nearly
forty men filled the sick-list with dysentery, ulcers, and scurvy,
and the victims of the latter disease were steadily increasing.
Yet withal I smiled proudly when I saw the brave hearts cheerily
respond to my encouraging cries. A few, however, would not believe
that within five or six days they should see Europeans. They
disdained to be considered so credulous, but at the same time they
granted that the 'master' was quite right to encourage his people
with promises of speedy relief.

"So we surmounted the table-land, but we could not bribe the
wretched natives to guide us to the next village. 'Mirambo,' the
riding-ass, managed to reach half-way up the table-land, but he
also was too far exhausted through the miserable attenuation which
the poor grass of the western region had wrought in his frame to
struggle farther. We could only pat him on the neck and say,
'Good-bye, old boy; farewell, old hero! A bad world this for you
and for us. We must part at last.' The poor animal appeared to know
that we were leaving him, for he neighed after us--a sickly,
quavering neigh, that betrayed his excessive weakness. When we last
turned to look at him he was lying on the path, but looking up the
hill with pointed ears, as though he were wondering why he was left
alone, and whither his human friends and companions by flood and
field were wandering.

"After charging the chief of Mbinda to feed him with cassava leaves
and good grass from his fields, I led the caravan over the serried
levels of the lofty upland.

"At the end of this district, about a mile from Mwato Wandu, we
appeared before a village whose inhabitants permitted us to pass on
for a little distance, when they suddenly called out to us with
expostulatory tones at an almost shrieking pitch. The old chief,
followed by about fifty men, about forty of whom carried guns,
hurried up to me and sat down in the road.

"In a composed and consequential tone he asked, 'Know you I am the
king of this country?'

"I answered, mildly, 'I knew it not, my brother.'

"'I am the king, and how can you pass through my country without
paying me?'

"'Speak, my friend; what is it the Mundelé can give you?'

"'Rum. I want a big bottle of rum, and then you can pass on.'

"'Rum?'

"'Yes, rum, for I am the king of this country!'

"'Rum!' I replied, wonderingly.

"'Rum; rum is good. I love rum,' he said, with a villainous leer.

"Uledi, coming forward, impetuously asked, 'What does this old man
want, master?'

"'He wants rum, Uledi. Think of it!'

"'There's rum for him,' he said, irreverently slapping his majesty
over the face, who, as the stool was not very firm, fell over
prostrate. Naturally this was an affront, and I reproved Uledi for
it. Yet it seemed that he had extricated us from a difficult
position by his audacity, for the old chief and his people hurried
off to their village, where there was great excitement and
perturbation, but we could not stay to see the end.

"Ever and anon, as we rose above the ridged swells, we caught a
glimpse of the wild river on whose bosom we had so long floated.
Still white and foaming, it rushed on impetuously seaward through
the sombre defile. Then we descended into a deep ravine, and
presently, with uneasy, throbbing hearts, we breasted a steep slope
rough with rock, and from its summit we looked abroad over a
heaving, desolate, and ungrateful land. The grass was tall and
ripe, and waved and rustled mournfully before the upland breezes.
Soon the road declined into a valley, and we were hid in a deep
fold, round which rose the upland, here to the west shagged with a
thin forest, to the north with ghastly sere grass, out of which
rose a few rocks, gray and sad. On our left was furze, with scrub.
At the bottom of this, sad and desolate, ran a bright, crystal
clear brook. Up again to the summit we strove to gain the crest of
a ridge, and then, down once more the tedious road wound in crooked
curves to the depth of another ravine, on the opposite side of
which rose sharply and steeply, to the wearying height of twelve
hundred feet, the range called Yangi-Yangi. At 11 A.M. we in the
van had gained the lofty summit, and fifteen minutes afterwards we
descried a settlement and its cluster of palms. An hour afterwards
we were camped on a bit of level plateau to the south of the
villages of Ndambi Mbongo.

"The chiefs appeared, dressed in scarlet military coats of a past
epoch. We asked for food for beads. 'Cannot.' 'For wire?' 'We don't
want wire!' 'For cowries?' 'Are we bushmen?' 'For cloth?' 'You must
wait three days for a market'. If you have got rum you can have
plenty!!' Rum! Heavens! Over two years and eight months ago we
departed from the shores of the Eastern Ocean, and they ask us for
rum!

"Yet they were not insolent, but unfeeling; they were not rude, but
steely selfish. We conversed with them sociably enough, and
obtained encouragement. A strong, healthy man would reach Embomma
in three days. Three days! Only three days off from food--from
comforts--luxuries even! Ah me!

"The next day, when morning was graying, we lifted our weakened
limbs for another march. And such a march!--the path all thickly
strewn with splinters of suet-colored quartz, which increased the
fatigue and pain. The old men and the three mothers, with their
young infants born at the cataracts of Masassa and Zinga, and
another near the market-town of Manyanga, in the month of June,
suffered greatly. Then might be seen that affection for one another
which appealed to my sympathies, and endeared them to me still
more. Two of the younger men assisted each of the old, and the
husbands and fathers lifted their infants on their shoulders and
tenderly led their wives along.

"Up and down the desolate and sad land wound the poor, hungry
caravan. Bleached whiteness of ripest grass, gray rock-piles here
and there, looming up solemn and sad in their grayness, a thin
grove of trees now and then visible on the heights and in the
hollows--such were the scenes that with every uplift of a ridge or
rising crest of a hill met our hungry eyes. Eight miles our
strength enabled us to make, and then we camped in the middle of an
uninhabited valley, where we were supplied with water from the
pools which we discovered in the course of a dried-up stream.

"Our march on the third day was a continuation of the scenes of the
day preceding until about ten o'clock, when we arrived at the
summit of a grassy and scrub-covered ridge, which we followed until
three in the afternoon. The van then appeared before the miserable
settlement of Nsanda, or, as it is sometimes called, Banza (town)
N'sanda N'sanga. Marching through the one street of the first
village in melancholy and silent procession, voiceless as sphinxes,
we felt our way down into a deep gully, and crawled up again to the
level of the village site, and camped about two hundred yards away.
It was night before all had arrived.

"After we had erected our huts and lifted the tent into its usual
place, the chief of Nsanda appeared. He was kindly,
sociable--laughed, giggled, and was amusing. Of course he knew
Embomma, had frequently visited there, and carried thither large
quantities of _Nguba_, ground-nuts, which he had sold for rum. We
listened, as in duty bound, with a melancholy interest. Then I
suddenly asked him if he would carry a _makanda_, or letter, to
Embomma, and allow three of my men to accompany him. He was too
great to proceed himself, but he would despatch two of his young
men the next day. His consent I obtained only after four hours of
earnest entreaty. It was finally decided that I should write a
letter, and the two young natives would be ready next day. After my
dinner--three fried bananas, twenty roasted ground-nuts, and a cup
of muddy water, my usual fare now--by a lamp made out of a piece of
rotten sheeting steeped in a little palm-butter I wrote the
following letter:

"'VILLAGE OF NSANDA, _August_ 4, 1877.

"'_To any Gentleman who speaks English at Embomma:_

"DEAR SIR,--I have arrived at this place from Zanzibar with one
hundred and fifteen souls, men, women, and children. We are now in
a state of imminent starvation. We can buy nothing from the
natives, for they laugh at our kinds of cloth, beads, and wire.
There are no provisions in the country that may be purchased,
except on market-days, and starving people cannot afford to wait
for these markets. I, therefore, have made bold to despatch three
of my young men, natives of Zanzibar, with a boy named Robert
Feruzi, of the English Mission at Zanzibar, with this letter,
craving relief from you. I do not know you; but I am told there is
an Englishman at Embomma, and as you are a Christian and a
gentleman, I beg you not to disregard my request. The boy Robert
will be better able to describe our lone condition than I can tell
you in this letter. We are in a state of the greatest distress; but
if your supplies arrive in time, I may be able to reach Embomma
within four days. I want three hundred cloths, each four yards
long, of such quality as you trade with, which is very different
from that we have; but better than all would be ten or fifteen
man-loads of rice or grain to fill their pinched bellies
immediately, as even with the cloths it would require time to
purchase food, and starving people cannot wait. The supplies must
arrive within two days, or I may have a fearful time of it among
the dying. Of course I hold myself responsible for any expense you
may incur in this business. What is wanted is immediate relief; and
I pray you to use your utmost energies to forward it at once. For
myself, if you have such little luxuries as tea, coffee, sugar, and
biscuits by you, such as one man can easily carry, I beg you on my
own behalf that you will send a small supply, and add to the great
debt of gratitude due to you upon the timely arrival of the
supplies for my people. Until that time I beg you to believe me,

"'Yours sincerely,
"'H. M. STANLEY,
"'_Commanding Anglo-American Expedition_
_for Exploration of Africa._

"'_P.S._--You may not know me by name; I therefore add, I am the
person that discovered Livingstone in 1871.--H. M. S.'

"I also wrote a letter in French, and another in Spanish as a
substitute for Portuguese, as I heard at Nsanda that there was one
Englishman, one Frenchman, and three Portuguese at Embomma; but
there were conflicting statements, some saying that there was no
Englishman, but a Dutchman. However, I imagined I was sure to
obtain provisions--for most European merchants understand either
English, French, or Spanish.

"The chiefs and boat's crew were called to my tent. I then told
them that I had resolved to despatch four messengers to the white
men at Embomma, with letters asking for food, and wished to know
the names of those most likely to travel quickly and through
anything that interposed to prevent them; for it might be possible
that so small a number of men might be subjected to delays and
interruptions, and that the guides might loiter on the way, and so
protract the journey until relief would arrive too late.

"The response was not long coming, for Uledi sprang up and said,
'Oh, master, don't talk more; I am ready now. See, I will only
buckle on my belt, and I shall start at once, and nothing will
stop me. I will follow on the track like a leopard.'

"'And I am one,' said Kachéché. 'Leave us alone, master. If there
are white men at Embomma, we will find them out. We will walk, and
walk, and when we cannot walk we will crawl.'

"'Leave off talking, men,' said Muini Pembé, 'and allow others to
speak, won't you? Hear me, my master. I am your servant. I will
outwalk the two. I will carry the letter, and plant it before the
eyes of the white men.'

"'I will go, too, sir,' said Robert.

"'Good. It is just as I should wish it; but, Robert, you cannot
follow these three men. You will break down, my boy.'

"'Oh, we will carry him if he breaks down,' said Uledi. 'Won't we
Kachéché?'

"'Inshallah!' responded Kachéché, decisively. 'We must have Robert
along with us, otherwise the white men won't understand us.'

"Early the next day the two guides appeared, but the whole of the
morning was wasted in endeavoring to induce them to set off. Uledi
waxed impatient, and buckled on his accoutrements, drawing his
belt so tight about his waist that it was perfectly painful to
watch him, and said, 'Give us the letters, master; we will not
wait for the pagans. Our people will be dead before we start.
Regard them, will you! They are sprawling about the camp without
any life in them. Goee--Go-ee--Go-ee.' Finally, at noon, the
guides and messengers departed in company.

"Meanwhile a bale of cloth and a sack of beads were distributed,
and the strongest and youngest men despatched abroad in all
directions to forage for food. Late in the afternoon they arrived
in camp weakened and dispirited, having, despite all efforts,
obtained but a few bundles of the miserable ground-nuts and
sufficient sweet potatoes to give three small ones to each person,
though they had given twenty times their value for each one. The
heartless reply of the spoiled aborigines was, 'Wait for the
zandu,' or market, which was to be held in two days at Nsanda;
for, as among the Babwendé, each district has its respective days
for marketing. Still what we had obtained was a respite from
death; and, on the morning of the 5th, the people were prepared to
drag their weary limbs nearer to the expected relief."