Canoes — The Crews — The Biography of Bombay — The Voyage — Crocodiles — The Lake Scenery — Kivira Island — Black Beetles — An Adventure with One of Them — Kasengé Island — African Slavery.

3d March 1858.— ALL being settled, I set out in a long narrow canoe, hollowed out of the trunk of a single tree. These vessels are mostly built from large timbers, growing in the district of Uguhha, on the western side of the lake. The seats of these canoes are bars of wood tied transversely to the length. The kit taken consists of one load (60 lb.) of cloth (American sheeting), another of large blue beads, a magazine of powder, and seven kitindis. The party is composed of Bombay, my interpreter; Gaetano, the Goanese cook-boy; two Beluch soldiers; one Nakhuda or sea-captain, who sometimes wore a goat-skin; and twenty stark-naked savage sailors: twenty-six in all. Of these only ten started, the remainder leaving word that they would follow down the coast, and meet us at a khambi (encampment), three miles distant, by 12 o’clock. The ten, however, sufficient for the occasion, move merrily off at 9 A.M., and in an hour we reached the rendezvous, under a large spreading tree on the right bank of the mouth of the river Ruché.

The party is decidedly motley. The man of quaintest aspect in it is Sidi Mabarak Bombay. He is of the Wahiyow tribe, who make the best slaves in Eastern Africa. His breed is that of the true woolly-headed negro, though he does not represent a good specimen of them physically, being somewhat smaller in his general proportions than those one generally sees as stokers in our steamers that traverse the Indian Ocean. His head, though woodeny, like a barber’s block, is lit up by a humorous little pair of pig-like eyes, set in a generous benign-looking countenance, which, strange to say, does not belie him, for his good conduct and honesty of purpose are without parallel. His muzzle projects dog-monkey fashion, and is adorned with a regular set of sharp-pointed alligator teeth, which he presents to full view as constantly as his very ticklish risible faculties become excited. The tobacconist’s “jolly nigger,” stuck in the corner house of —— street, as it stands in mute but full grin, tempting the patronage of accidental passengers, is his perfect counterpart. This wonderful man says he knows nothing of his genealogy, nor any of the dates of the leading epochs of his adventurous life,— not even his birth, time of captivity, or restoration.

But his general history he narrated to me as follows, which I give as he told it me, for this sketch may be of interest, presenting, as it does, a good characteristic account of the manner in which slave-hunts are planned and carried into execution. It must be truthful, for I have witnessed tragedies of a similar nature. The great slave-hunters of Eastern Africa are the Wasuahili or coast people; formerly slaves themselves, they are more enlightened, and fuller of tricks than the interior people, whom they now in their turn catch. Having been once caught themselves, they know how to proceed, and are consequently very cautious in their movements, taking sometimes years before they finally try to accomplish their object. They first ensnare the ignorant unsuspicious inlanders by alluring and entangling them in the treacherous meshes of debt, and then, by capturing and mercilessly selling their human game, liquidate the debt, insinuatingly advanced as an irresistible decoy to allure their confiding victims.

Bombay says: “I am a Mhiyow; my father lived in a village in the country of Uhiyow (a large district situated between the east coast and the Nyassa (Lake) in latitude 11° S.) Of my mother I have but the faintest recollection; she died whilst I was in my infancy. Our village was living in happy contentment, until the fated year when I was about the age of twelve. At that period a large body of Wasuahili merchants and their slaves, all equipped with sword and gun, came suddenly, and, surrounding our village, demanded of the inhabitants instant liquidation of their debts (cloths and beads), advanced in former times of pinching dearth, or else to stand the consequences of refusal.

“As all the residents had at different times contracted debts to different members of the body present, there was no appeal against the equity of this sudden demand, but no one had the means of payment. They knew fighting against firearms would be hopeless; so after a few stratagems, looking for a good opportunity to bolt, the whole village took to precipitate flight. Most of the villagers were captured like myself; but of my father, or any other relatives, I never more gained any intelligence. He was either shot in endeavouring to defend himself, or still more probably gave leg-bail, and so escaped. As soon as this foray was over, all the captives were grouped together, and tethered with chains or ropes, and marched off to Kilua, on the east coast (in latitude 9° S.) Arrived there, the whole party embarked in dhows, which, setting sail, soon arrived at Zanzibar. We were then driven to the slave-market, where I was bought by an Arab merchant, and taken off to India. I served with this master for several years, till by his death I obtained my liberation. My next destination was Zanzibar, where I took service in the late Imaum’s army, and passed my days in half-starved inactivity, until the lucky day when, at Chongué, you saw and gave me service.”

Shortly after we had encamped under the rendezvous tree, and begun our cooking, some villagers brought ivories of the elephant and hippopotamus for sale, but had to suffer the disappointment of meeting a stranger to merchandise, and straightway departed, fully convinced that all Wazungu (or wise, or white men) were mere fools for not making money, when they had so good an opportunity. Noon and evening passed without a sign of the black captain or the remaining men. We were in a wretched place for a halt, a sloping ploughed field; and, deceived by the captain’s not keeping his promise, were unprepared for spending the night there. I pitched my tent, but the poor men had nothing to protect them. With the darkness a deluge of rain descended; and, owing to the awkwardness of our position, the surcharged earth poured off a regular stream of water over our beds, baggage, and everything alike. To keep the tent erect — a small gable-shaped affair, six feet high, and seven by six square, made of American sheeting, and so light that with poles and everything complete it barely weighs one man’s load — I called up the men, and for hours held it so by strength of arm. Even the hippopotami, to judge by the frequency of their snorts and grunts, as they indulged in their devastating excursions amongst the crops, seemed angry at this unusual severity of the weather. Never from the 15th of November, when the rainy season commenced, had we experienced such a violent and heavy downpour.

4th.— Halt. The morning is no improvement on the night. The captain now arrives with most of the remaining crew, fears the troubled waters, and will not put out to sea. In consequence of this disappointment, a messenger is sent back to Kawélé, to fetch some fresh provisions and firewood, as what little of this latter article can be gathered in its saturated state is useless, for it will not burn. During the afternoon the remainder of the crew keep dropping in, and at nightfall seventeen hands are mustered.

5th.— At 3 A.M. the sea subsides, and the boat is loaded.— To pack so many men together, with material, in so small a space as the canoe affords, seems a difficulty almost insurmountable. Still it is effected. I litter down amidships, with my bedding spread on reeds, in so short a compass that my legs keep slipping off and dangling in the bilge-water. The cook and bailsman sit on the first bar, facing me; and behind them, to the stern, one-half the sailors sit in couples; whilst on the first bar behind me are Bombay and one Beluch, and beyond them to the bow, also in couples, the remaining crew. The captain takes post in the bows, and all hands on both sides paddle in stroke together.

Fuel, cooking-apparatus, food, bag and baggage, are thrown promiscuously under the seats. But the sailors’ blankets, in the shape of grass matting, are placed on the bars to render the sitting soft. Once all properly arranged, the seventeen paddles dash off with vigour, and, steering southwards, we soon cross the mouth of the Ruché. Next Ukaranga, the last village on this line down the eastern shore, lying snugly in a bay, with a low range of densely-wooded hills about three miles in its rear, is passed by dawn of day, and about sunrise the bay itself is lost to sight.

The tired crew now hug a bluff shore, crowned with dense jungle, until a nook familiar to the men is entered under plea of breakfasting. Here all hands land, fires are kindled, and the cooking-pots arranged. Some prepare their rods and nets for fishing, some go in search of fungi (a favourite food), and others collect fuel. Gaetano, ever doing wrong, dips his cooking-pot in the sea for water — a dangerous experiment, if the traditions of Tanganyika hold good, that the ravenous hosts of crocodiles seldom spare any one bold enough to excite their appetites with such dregs as usually drop from those utensils; moreover, they will follow and even board the boats, after a single taste.

The sailors here have as great an aversion to being followed by the crocodile as our seamen by a shark, and they now display their feelings by looks and mutterings, and strictly prohibiting the use of the cooking-pot on that service again. Breakfast ready, all hands eagerly fall to, and feast away in happy ignorance of any danger, when suddenly confusion enters the camp, and, with the alarming cry that foes are coming, all hurry-skurry for the boat, some with one thing, some with another. The greater part of the kit is left upon the ground. A breathless silence reigns for several minutes. Then one jumps off and secures his pot; another succeeds him, and then more, till courage is gained to make a search, and ascertain the cause of the alarm. Sneaking, crawling in the bush, some peering this way, others listening that, they stealthily move along, until at length a single man, with arrow poised, in self-defence I suppose, is pounced upon.

His story of why he came there, who and how many are his comrades, what he wants in such a desert place, and why he carries arms, though spoken with a cunning plausibility, has no effect upon the knowing sailors. They proclaim him and his party, some eight or ten men, who are clamorously squabbling in the jungle at no great distance, to be a rough and lawless set of marauders, fearing to come out and show themselves on being challenged, and further insist that none ever ventured in such wilds who had not got in view some desperate enterprise. In short, it was proverbially men of their sort who were the general plunderers of honest navigators. They therefore seize his weapons, cut and break his bow and arrows, and let him go; though some of the crew advocate his life being taken, and others, that the whole party should be chased down and slaughtered. The sailors then return to the canoe, each vaunting his part in this adventurous exploit, and bandying congratulations in the highest spirits. They are one and all as proud of this success, and each as boastful of his prowess, as though a mighty battle had been fought and won.

On starting again we pass alongside another bluff, backed by small well-wooded hills, an extension of the aforesaid east horn of the Moon, and cross a little bay, when the lazy crew, tired by two hours’ work, bear in with the land, and disembark, as they say, to make some ropes, or find some creepers long and strong enough for mooring this mighty canoe. It is now eleven o’clock; there is more rest than work, a purely negro way of getting through the day; three hours went in idleness before, and now five more are wasted. Again we start, and after crossing a similar small bay, continue along a low shelving shore, densely wooded to the water’s edge, until the Malagarazi river’s mouth is gained. This river is the largest on the eastern shore of the lake, and was previously crossed by the caravan on its way from Kazé, in small bark canoes, much rougher, but constructed something similarly to those of the Americans. Each of these canoes contains one man and his load, besides the owner, who lives near the ferry, and poles the vessel across. Still to the eastward we have the same tree-clad hilly view, beautiful in itself, but tiresome in its constant sameness. After a stretch, and half an hour’s pipes and breathing, we start afresh, and cross the bay into which the river debouches.

Here tall aquatic reeds diversify the surface, and are well tenanted by the crocodile and hippopotami, the latter of which keep staring, grunting, and snorting as though much vexed at our intrusion on their former peace and privacy. We now hug the shore, and continue on in the dark of night till Mgiti Khambi,13 a beautiful little harbour bending back away amongst the hills, and out of sight of the lake, is reached at 11 P.M. Could but a little civilised art, as whitewashed houses, well-trained gardens, and the like, vary these evergreen hills and trees, and diversify the unceasing monotony of hill and dale, and dale and hill — of green trees, green grass — green grass, green trees, so wearisome in their luxuriance,— what a paradise of beauty would this place present! The deep blue waters of the lake, in contrast with the vegetation and large brown rocks, form everywhere an object of intense attraction; but the appetite soon wearies of such profusion, without the contrast of more sober tints, or the variety incidental to a populous and inhabited country. There are said to be some few scattered villages concealed in these dense jungles extending away in the background, but how the shores should be so desolate strikes one with much surprise. The naturally excessive growth of all vegetable life is sufficient proof of the soil’s capabilities. Unless in former times this beautiful country has been harassed by neighbouring tribes, and despoiled of its men and cattle to satisfy the spoilers and be sold to distant markets, its present state appears quite incomprehensible. In hazarding this conjecture, it might be thought that I am taking an extreme view of the case; but when we see everywhere in Africa what one slave-hunt or cattle-lifting party can effect, it is not unreasonable to imagine that this was most probably the cause of such utter desolation here. These war-parties lay waste the tracks they visit for endless time. Indeed, until slavery is suppressed in Africa, we may expect to find such places in a similarly melancholy state.

Immediately on arriving here I pitch my tent, and cook a meal; whilst the sailors, as is usual on arrival at their camping-grounds, divide into parties,— some to catch fish, others to look for fungi, whilst many cook the food, and the rest construct little huts by planting boughs in a circle in the ground and fastening the tops together, leaving the hut in the shape of a haycock, to which they further assimilate it by throwing grass above; and in rainy weather it is further covered by their mats, to secure them against getting wet. As only one or two men occupy a hut, to accommodate so large a party many of them have to be constructed. It is amusing to see how some men, proud of their superior powers of inventiveness, and possessing the knack of making pleasant what would otherwise be uncomfortable, plume themselves before their brethren, and turn them to derision: and it appears the more ridiculous, as they all are as stark naked as an unclothed animal, and have really nothing to boast of after all.

6th.— The following morning sees us under way, and clear of the harbour by sunrise; but the gathering of clouds in the south soon cautions the weather-wise sailors to desist from their advance. Timely is the warning; for, as we rest on our oars, the glimmer of lightning illuminates the distant hills; whilst low heavy rolling clouds of pitchy darkness, preceded by a heavy gale and a foaming sea, outspread over the whole southern waters, rapidly advance. It is an ocean-tempest in miniature, which sends us right about to our former berth. Some of our men now employ themselves in fishing for small fry with a slender rod, a piece of string, and an iron hook, with a bait of meat or fish attached; whilst others use small handnets, which they place behind some reeds or other cover, to secure the retreating fish as he makes off on being poked out of his refuge on the opposite side by a wand held for that purpose in the sportsman’s other hand. But the majority are occupied in gathering sticks and cooking breakfast till 1 P.M., when the sea abates, and the journey is resumed. During this portion of the journey, a slight change of scenery takes place. The chain of hills running parallel with the shore of the lake is broken, and in its stead we see small detached and short irregular lines of hills, separated by extended plains of forest, thickly clad in verdure, like all the rest of the country. After two hours’ paddling, we stand opposite the Luguvu river, and rest awhile to smoke; then start again, and in an hour cross the mouth of the little river Hebué. Unfortunately these streams add nothing to the beauty of the scenery; and were it not for the gaps in the hills suggesting the probable course of rivers, they might be passed without notice, for the mouths are always concealed by bulrushes, or other tall aquatic reeds; and inland they are just as closely hidden by forest vegetation. In half an hour more we enter a small nook called Luguvu Khambi, very deep, and full of crocodiles and hippopotami. On landing, we fire the usual alarm-guns — a point to which our captain is ever strictly attentive — cook our dinners, and turn in for the night. Here I picked up four varieties of shells — two univalves and two bivalves — all very interesting from being quite unknown in the conchological world. There were numbers of them lying on the pebbly beach.

7th.— We started at dawn as usual; but again at sunrise, the wind increasing, we put in for the shore, for these little cranky boats can stand no sea whatever. Here a herd of wild buffaloes, horned like the Cape ones, were seen by the men, and caused some diversion: for, though too blind myself to see the brutes at the distance that the others did, I loaded and gave them chase. Whilst tracking along, I saw fresh prints of elephants, which, judging from their trail, had evidently just been down to drink at the lake; and sprang some antelopes, but could not get a shot. The sea going down by noon, we proceeded, and hugged a bluff shore, till we arrived at Insigazi, a desert place, a little short of Kabogo, the usual crossing-point. Although the day was now far advanced, the weather was so promising, whilst our stores were running short, that impatience suggested a venture for the opposite shore to Kivira, an island near it, and which, with the Uguhha heights in the background, is from this distinctly visible. This line is selected for canoes to cross at, from containing the least expanse of water between the two shores, between Ujiji and the south end. The Kabogo Island, which stands so conspicuously in the missionaries’ map that hung on the Royal Geographical Society’s walls in 1856, is evidently intended for this Kabogo or starting-point, near which we now are, and is so far rightly placed upon their map as representing the half-way station from Ujiji to Kasengé, two places on opposite sides of the lake, whither the Arab merchants go in search of ivory. For Kabogo, as will be seen by my map, lies just midway on the line always taken by boats travelling between those two ports — the rest of the lake being too broad for these adventurous spirits. In short, they coast south from Ujiji to Kabogo, which constitutes the first half of the journey, and then cross over.

On the passage I carefully inquired the names of several points and places, to take their bearings, and to learn the geography of the lake, but all to no purpose. The superstitious captain, and even more superstitious crew, refused to answer any questions, and earnestly forbade my talking. The idea was founded upon the fear of vitiating their uganga or “church,” by answering a stranger any questions whilst at sea; but they dread more especially to talk about the places of departure or arrival, lest ill luck should overtake them, and deprive them of the chance of ever reaching shore. They blamed me for throwing the remnants of my cold dinner overboard, and pointed to the bottom of the boat as the proper receptacle for refuse. Night set in with great serenity, and at 2 A.M. the following morning (8th March) when arriving amongst some islands, close on the western shore of the lake — the principal of which are Kivira, Kabizia, and Kasengé, the only ones inhabited — a watch-boat belonging to Sultan Kasanga, the reigning chief of this group, challenged us, and asked our mission. Great fraternising, story-telling, and a little pipe ensued, for every one loves tobacco; then both departed in peace and friendship: they to their former abode, a cove in a small uninhabited island which lies due south of Kivira; whilst we proceeded to a long narrow harbour in Kivira itself, the largest of all these islands. Fourteen hours were occupied in crossing the lake, of which two were spent in brawling and smoking. At 9 A.M. the islanders, receiving intelligence of our arrival, came down the hill of which this island is formed, in great numbers, and held a market; but as we were unprovided with what they wanted, little business could be done. The chief desideratum was flesh of fish or beast, next salt, then tobacco — in fact, anything but what I had brought as market money, cloth and glass beads. This day passed in rest and idleness, recruiting from our late exertions.

At night a violent storm of rain and wind beat on my tent with such fury that its nether parts were torn away from the pegs, and the tent itself was only kept upright by sheer force. On the wind’s abating, a candle was lighted to rearrange the kit, and in a moment, as though by magic, the whole interior became covered with a host of small black beetles, evidently attracted by the glimmer of the candle. They were so annoyingly determined in their choice of place for peregrinating, that it seemed hopeless my trying to brush them off the clothes or bedding, for as one was knocked aside another came on, and then another; till at last, worn out, I extinguished the candle, and with difficulty — trying to overcome the tickling annoyance occasioned by these intruders crawling up my sleeves and into my hair, or down my back and legs — fell off to sleep. Repose that night was not destined to be my lot. One of these horrid little insects awoke me in his struggles to penetrate my ear, but just too late: for in my endeavour to extract him, I aided his immersion. He went his course, struggling up the narrow channel, until he got arrested by want of passage-room. This impediment evidently enraged him, for he began with exceeding vigour, like a rabbit at a hole, to dig violently away at my tympanum. The queer sensation this amusing measure excited in me is past description. I felt inclined to act as our donkeys once did, when beset by a swarm of bees, who buzzed about their ears and stung their heads and eyes until they were so irritated and confused that they galloped about in the most distracted order, trying to knock them off by treading on their heads, or by rushing under bushes, into houses, or through any jungle they could find. Indeed, I do not know which was worst off. The bees killed some of them, and this beetle nearly did for me. What to do I knew not. Neither tobacco, oil, nor salt could be found: I therefore tried melted butter; that failing, I applied the point of a penknife to his back, which did more harm than good; for though a few thrusts quieted him, the point also wounded my ear so badly, that inflammation set in, severe suppuration took place, and all the facial glands extending from that point down to the point of the shoulder became contorted and drawn aside, and a string of boils decorated the whole length of that region. It was the most painful thing I ever remember to have endured; but, more annoying still, I could not masticate for several days, and had to feed on broth alone. For many months the tumour made me almost deaf, and ate a hole between the ear and the nose, so that when I blew it, my ear whistled so audibly that those who heard it laughed. Six or seven months after this accident happened, bits of the beetle — a leg, a wing, or parts of its body — came away in the wax.

It was not altogether an unmixed evil, for the excitement occasioned by the beetle’s operations acted towards my blindness as a counter-irritant, by drawing the inflammation away from my eyes. Indeed, it operated far better than any other artificial appliance. To cure the blindness I once tried rubbing in some blistering liquor behind my ear, but this unfortunately had been injured by the journey, and had lost its stimulating properties. Finding it of no avail, I then caused my servant to rub the part with his finger until it was excoriated, which, though it proved insufficiently strong to cure me, was, according to Dr Bowman, whom I have since consulted, as good a substitute for a blister as could have been applied.

9th.— The weather still remaining too rough for sailing, I strolled over the island, and from its summit on the eastern side I found a good view of the lake, and took bearings of Ujiji, Insigazi, and a distant point southwards on the eastern shore of the lake, called Ukungué. Kivira Island is a massive hill, about five miles long by two or three broad, and is irregularly shaped. In places there are high flats, formed in terraces, but generally the steeps are abrupt and thickly wooded. The mainland immediately west is a promontory, at the southern extremity of the Uguhha Mountains, on the western coast of the Tanganyika; and the island is detached from it by so narrow a strip of water that, unless you obtained a profile view, it might easily be mistaken for a headland. The population is considerable, and they live in mushroom huts, situated on the high flats and easier slopes, where they cultivate the manioc, sweet potato, maize, millet, various kinds of pulse, and all the common vegetables in general use about the country. Poultry abounds in the villages.

The dress of the people is simple, consisting of small black monkey skins, cat-skins, and the furs of any vermin they can get. These are tucked under a waist-strap, and, according to the number they possess, go completely or only half-way round the body, the animals’ heads hanging in front, and the tails always depending gracefully below. These monkeys are easily captured when the maize is ripe, by a number of people stealthily staking small square nets in contiguous line all round the fields which these animals may be occupied in robbing, and then with screams and yells, flinging sticks and stones, the hunters rush upon the affrighted thieves, till, in their hurry and confusion to escape, they become irretrievably entangled in the meshes. But few of these islanders carry spear or bow, though I imagine all possess them. They were most unpleasantly inquisitive, and by their stares, jabber, and pointings, incessantly wanting me to show them everything that I possessed, with explanations about their various uses, quite tired out my patience. If I tried to get away, they plaguingly followed after, so at last I dodged them by getting into the boat. To sit in the tent was the worst place of all; they would pull up the sides, and peer under like so many monkeys; and if I turned my head aside to avoid their gaze, they would jabber in the most noisy and disagreeable manner in order to arouse me.

10th.— We quit Kivira early, and paddling S. 25° W., make the famous fish-market in the little island Kabizia, just in time to breakfast on a freshly-caught fish, the celebrated Singa,— a large, ugly, black-backed monster, with white belly, small fins, and long barbs, but no scales. In appearance a sluggish ground-fish, it is always immoderately and grossly fat, and at this season is full of roe; its flesh is highly esteemed by the natives. This island is very small, with a gradual rising slope from the N.W. extremity; and at the S.E. end assumes the form of a bull’s hump. There is but one village of twenty odd mushroom-shaped huts, chiefly occupied by fishermen, who live on their spoils, and by selling all that they cannot consume to the neighbouring islanders and the villagers on the mainland. Added to this, they grow maize and other vegetables, and keep a good stock of fowls. I tried every mode of inducement to entice the crew away to complete the journey, for the place of my destination, Kasengé, was in sight; but in vain. They had tasted this to them delicious fish, and were determined to dress and lay by a good store of it to carry with them. About noon Khamis, a merchant from Kasengé, bound for Ujiji, arrived, and kindly gave me a long needle to stir up the beetle in my ear; but the insect had gone in so far, and the swelling and suppuration of the wounds had so imbedded him, that no instrument could have done any good. Khamis, like myself, was very anxious to complete his journey, and tried every conceivable means to entice his crew away, but he failed as signally as I did. On the mainland opposite to this, we see the western horn of these concavely-disposed mountains, which encircle the north of the lake, and from hence the horn stretches away in increasing height as it extends northwards. Its sea-ward slopes are well wooded from near the summit down to the water’s edge; but on the top, as though strong currents of air prevailed, and prevented vegetation from attaining any height, grass only is visible. Westward, behind the island of Kasengé, and away to the southward, the country is of a roll............