Bravely Toiled The Men, Without Murmur, Though Their Legs Were Bleeding From The Cruel Grass.

"Ambrosial morn" at last appeared, with all its beautiful and lovely features.

Heaven was born anew to us, with comforting omens and cheery promise. The men, though fatigued at the unusual travel, sped forward with quicker, pace as daylight broke, until, at 8 A.M., we sighted the swift Rusugi River, when a halt was ordered in a clump of jungle near it, for breakfast and rest. Both banks of the river were alive with buffalo, eland, and antelope, but, though the sight was very tempting, we did not fire, because we dared not. The report of a gun would have alarmed the whole country. I preferred my coffee, and the contentment which my mind experienced at our success.

An hour after we had rested, some natives, carrying salt from the Malagarazi, were seen coming up the right bank of the river. When abreast of our hiding-place, they detected us, and dropping their salt-bags, they took to their heels at once, shouting out as they ran, to alarm some villages that appeared about four miles north of us. The men were immediately ordered to take up their loads, and in a few minutes we had crossed the Rusugi, and were making direct for a bamboo jungle that appeared in our front. On, on, we kept steadily until, at 1 P.M., we sighted the little lake of Musunya, as wearied as possible with our nine hours march.

Lake Musunya is one of the many circular basins found in this part of Uhha. There was quite a group of them. The more correct term of these lakes would be immense pools. In the Masika season, Lake Musunya must extend to three or four miles in length by two in breadth. It swarms with hippopotami, and its shores abound with noble game.

We were very quiet, as may be imagined, in our bivouac; neither tent nor hut was raised, nor was fire kindled, so that, in case of pursuit, we could move off without delay. I kept my Winchester rifle (the gift of my friend Mr. Morris, and a rare gift it was for such a crisis) with its magazine full, and two hundred cartridges in a bag slung over my shoulders. Each soldier's gun was also ready and loaded, and we retired to sleep our fatigues off with a feeling of perfect security.

November 8th. - Long before dawn appeared, we were on the march, and, as daylight broke, we emerged from the bamboo jungle, and struck across the naked plain of Uhha, once more passing several large pools by the way - far-embracing prospects of undulating country, with here and there a characteristic clump of trees relieving the general nudity of the whole. Hour after hour we toiled on, across the rolling land waves, the sun shining with all its wonted African fervor, but with its heat slightly tempered by the welcome breezes, which came laden with the fragrance of young grass, and perfume of strange flowers of various hues, that flecked the otherwise pale-green sheet which extended so far around us.

We arrived at the Rugufu River - not the Ukawendi Rugufu, but the northern stream of that name, a tributary of the Malagarazi. It was a broad shallow stream, and sluggish, with an almost imperceptible flow south-west. While we halted in the deep shade afforded by a dense clump of jungle, close to the right bank, resting awhile before continuing our journey. I distinctly heard a sound as of distant thunder in the west. Upon asking if it were thunder, I was told it was Kabogo.

"Kabogo? what is that?"

"It is a great mountain on the other side of the Tanganika, full of deep holes, into which the water rolls; and when there is wind on the Tanganika, there is a sound like mvuha (thunder). Many boats have been lost there, and it is a custom with Arabs and natives to throw cloth - Merikani and Kaniki - and especially white (Merikani) beads, to appease the mulungu (god) of the lake. Those who throw beads generally get past without trouble, but those who do not throw beads into the lake get lost, and are drowned. Oh, it is a dreadful place!" This story was told me by the ever-smiling guide Asmani, and was corroborated by other former mariners of the lake whom I had with me.

At the least, this place where we halted for dinner, on the banks of the Rugufu River, is eighteen and a half hours, or forty-six miles, from Ujiji; and, as Kabogo is said to be near Uguhha, it must be over sixty miles from Ujiji; therefore the sound of the thundering surf, which is said to roll into the caves of Kabogo, was heard by us at a distance of over one hundred miles away from them.

Continuing our journey for three hours longer, through thin forests, over extensive beds of primitive rock, among fields of large boulders thickly strewn about, passing by numerous herds of buffalo, giraffe, and zebra, over a quaking quagmire which resembled peat, we arrived at the small stream of Sunuzzi, to a camping place only a mile removed from a large settlement of Wahha. But we were buried in the depths of a great forest - no road was in the vicinity, no noise was made, deep silence was preserved; nor were fires lit. We might therefore rest tranquilly secure, certain that we should not be disturbed. To-morrow morning the kirangozi has promised we shall be out of Uhha, and if we travel on to Niamtaga, in Ukaranga, the same day, the next day would see us in Ujiji.

Patience, my soul! A few hours more, then the end of all this will be known! I shall be face to face with that "white man with the white hairs on his face, whoever he is!"

November 9th. - Two hours before dawn we left our camp on the Sunuzzi River, and struck through the forest in a north-by-west direction, having muzzled our goats previously, lest, by their bleating, they might betray us.

Enter page number Go  Previous Next
Page 92 of 160
Words from 93118 to 94151 of 163520