And something
tells me, I do not know what it is - perhaps it is the ever-
living hopefulness of my own nature, perhaps it is the natural
presumption born out of an abundant and glowing vitality, or
the outcome of an overweening confidence in oneself - anyhow and
everyhow, something tells me to-night I shall find him, and - write
it larger - FIND HIM! FIND HIM! Even the words are inspiring.
I feel more happy. Have I uttered a prayer? I shall sleep
calmly to-night.
I have felt myself compelled to copy out of my Diary the above
notes, as they explain, written as they are on the spot, the
vicissitudes of my "Life at Unyanyembe." To me they appear
to explain far better than any amount of descriptive writing,
even of the most graphic, the nature of the life I led. There
they are, unexaggerated, in their literality, precisely as I
conceived them at the time they happened. They speak of fevers
without number to myself and men, they relate our dangers, and
little joys, our annoyances and our pleasures, as they occurred.
CHAPTER X. TO MRERA, UKONONGO.
Departure from Unyanyembe. - The expedition reorganized.-Bombay. -
Mr. Shaw returns sick to Unyanyembe. - A noble forest.-The fever
described. - Happiness of the camp. - A park-land. - Herds of game
and noble sport. - A mutiny. - Punishment of the ringleaders.
Elephants. - Arrival at Mrera
The 20th of September had arrived. This was the day I had decided
to cut loose from those who tormented me with their doubts, their
fears, and beliefs, and commence the march to Ujiji by a southern
route. I was very weak from the fever that had attacked me the
day before, and it was a most injudicious act to commence a march
under such circumstances. But I had boasted to Sheikh bin Nasib
that a white man never breaks his word, and my reputation as a
white man would have been ruined had I stayed behind, or postponed
the march, in consequence of feebleness.
I mustered the entire caravan outside the tembe, our flags and
streamers were unfurled, the men had their loads resting on the
walls, there was considerable shouting, and laughing, and negroidal
fanfaronnade. The Arabs had collected from curiosity's sake to see
us off - all except Sheikh bin Nasib, whom I had offended by my
asinine opposition to his wishes. The old Sheikh took to his bed,
but sent his son to bear me a last morsel of Philosophic
sentimentality, which I was to treasure up as the last words of
the patriarchal Sheikh, the son of Nasib, the son of Ali, the son
of Sayf. Poor Sheikh! if thou hadst only known what was at the
bottom of this stubbornness - this ass-like determination to proceed
the wrong way - what wouldst thou then have said, 0 Sheikh?
