And thickets that annoyed us, or of the fervid salt plains
that blistered our feet, or of the hot suns that scorched us, nor
of the dangers and difficulties, now happily surmounted!
At last the sublime hour has arrived; - our dreams, our hopes, and
anticipations are now about to be realised! Our hearts and our
feelings are with our eyes, as we peer into the palms and try to
make out in which hut or house lives the "white man with the grey
beard" we heard about when we were at the Malagarazi.
"Unfurl the flags, and load your guns!"
"We will, master, we will, master!" respond the men eagerly.
"One, two, three, - fire!"
A volley from nearly fifty guns roars like a salute from a
battery of artillery : we shall note its effect presently on
the peaceful-looking village below.
"Now, kirangozi, hold the white man's flag up high, and let the
Zanzibar flag bring up the rear. And you men keep close together,
and keep firing until we halt in the market-place, or before the
white man's house. You have said to me often that you could smell
the fish of the Tanganika - I can smell the fish of the Tanganika
now. There are fish, and beer, and a long rest waiting for you.
MARCH!"
Before we had gone a hundred yards our repeated volleys had the
effect desired. We had awakened Ujiji to the knowledge that a
caravan was coming, and the people were witnessed rushing up in
hundreds to meet us. The mere sight of the flags informed every
one immediately that we were a caravan, but the American flag
borne aloft by gigantic Asmani, whose face was one vast smile on
this day, rather staggered them at first. However, many of the
people who now approached us, remembered the flag. They had seen
it float above the American Consulate, and from the mast-head of
many a ship in the harbor of Zanzibar, and they were soon heard
welcoming the beautiful flag with cries of "Bindera Kisungu!" - a
white man's flag! "Bindera Merikani!" - the American flag!
Then we were surrounded by them: by Wajiji, Wanyamwezi, Wangwana,
Warundi, Waguhha, Wamanyuema, and Arabs, and were almost
deafened with the shouts of "Yambo, yambo, bana! Yambo, bana!
Yambo, bana!" To all and each of my men the welcome was given.
We were now about three hundred yards from the village of Ujiji,
and the crowds are dense about me. Suddenly I hear a voice on
my right say,
"Good morning, sir!"
Startled at hearing this greeting in the midst of such a crowd of
black people, I turn sharply around in search of the man, and see
him at my side, with the blackest of faces, but animated and
joyous - a man dressed in a long white shirt, with a turban of
American sheeting around his woolly head, and I ask:
