I remembered the shock it gave me to hear
after my return from a barbarous country of the calamity that
had overtaken the fond man whom I called father, and the hot
fitful life that followed it. Stop! ************
Dear me; is it the 21st of July? Yes, Shaw informed me that it
was the 21st of July after I recovered from my terrible attack
of fever; the true date was the 14th of July, but I was not
aware that I had jumped a week, until I met Dr. Livingstone.
We two together examined the Nautical Almanack, which I brought
with me. We found that the Doctor was three weeks out of his
reckoning, and to my great surprise I was also one week out,
or one week ahead of the actual date. The mistake was made by
my being informed that I had been two weeks sick, and as the day
I recovered my senses was Friday, and Shaw and the people were
morally sure that I was in bed two weeks, I dated it on my Diary
the 21st of July. However, on the tenth day after the first of my
illness, I was in excellent trim again, only, however, to see and
attend to Shaw, who was in turn taken sick. By the 22nd July
Shaw was recovered, then Selim was prostrated, and groaned in his
delirium for four days, but by the 28th we were all recovered, and
were beginning to brighten up at the prospect of a diversion in the
shape of a march upon Mirambo's stronghold.
The morning of the 29th I had fifty men loaded with bales, beads,
and wire, for Ujiji. When they were mustered for the march
outside the tembe, the only man absent was Bombay. While men were
sent to search for him, others departed to get one more look, and
one more embrace with their black Delilahs. Bombay was found some
time about 2 P.M., his face faithfully depicting the contending
passions under which he was labouring - sorrow at parting from the
fleshpots of Unyanyembe - regret at parting from his Dulcinea of
Tabora - to be, bereft of all enjoyment now, nothing but
marches - hard, long marches - to go to the war - to be killed,
perhaps, Oh! Inspired by such feelings, no wonder Bombay was
inclined to be pugnacious when I ordered him to his place, and I
was in a shocking bad temper for having been kept waiting from
8 A.M. to 2 P.M. for him. There was simply a word and a savage
look, and my cane was flying around Bombay's shoulders, as if he
were to be annihilated. I fancy that the eager fury of my
onslaught broke his stubbornness more than anything else; for
before I had struck him a dozen times he was crying for "pardon."
At that word I ceased belaboring him, for this was the first time
he had ever uttered that word. Bombay was conquered at last.
"March!" and the guide led off, followed in solemn order by
forty-nine of his fellows, every man carrying a heavy load of
African moneys, besides his gun, hatchet, and stock of ammunition,
and his ugali-pot. We presented quite an imposing sight while thus
marching on in silence and order, with our flags flying, and the
red blanket robes of the men streaming behind them as the furious
north-easter blew right on our flank.
The men seemed to feel they were worth seeing, for I noticed that
several assumed a more martial tread as they felt their royal Joho
cloth tugging at their necks, as it was swept streaming behind by
the wind. Maganga, a tall Mnyamwezi, stalked along like a very
Goliah about to give battle alone, to Mirambo and his thousand
warriors. Frisky Khamisi paced on under his load, imitating a
lion and there was the rude jester - the incorrigible Ulimengo -
with a stealthy pace like a cat. But their silence could not
last long. Their, vanity was so much gratified, the red cloaks
danced so incessantly before their eyes, that it would have
been a wonder if they could have maintained such serious gravity
or discontent one half hour longer.
Ulimengo was the first who broke it. He had constituted himself
the kirangozi or guide, and was the standard-bearer, bearing the
American flag, which the men thought would certainly strike terror
into the hearts of the enemy. Growing confident first, then
valorous, then exultant, he suddenly faced the army he was
leading, and shouted
"Hoy! Hoy !
Chorus. - Hoy! Hoy!
Hoy! Hoy!
Chorus. - Hoy! Hoy!
Hoy! Hoy!
Chorus. - Hoy! Hoy!
Where are ye going?
Chorus. - Going to war.
Against whom?
Chorus. - Against Mirambo.
Who is your master?
Chorus. - The White Man.
Ough! Ough!
Chorus. - Ough! Ough!
Hyah! Hyah!
Chorus. - Hyah. Hyah!"
This was the ridiculous song they kept up all day without
intermission.
We camped the first day at Bomboma's village, situated a mile to
the south-west of the natural hill fortress of Zimbili. Bombay
was quite recovered from his thrashing, and had banished the sullen
thoughts that had aroused my ire, and the men having behaved
themselves so well, a five-gallon pot of pombe was brought to
further nourish the valour, which they one and all thought they
possessed.
The second day we arrived at Masangi. I was visited soon
afterwards by Soud, the son of Sayd bin Majid, who told me the
Arabs were waiting for me; that they would not march from Mfuto
until I had arrived.
Eastern Mfuto, after a six hours' march, was reached on the third
day from Unyanyembe. Shaw gave in, laid down in the road, and
declared he was dying. This news was brought to me about 4 P.M.
by one of the last stragglers.
