Some Heroes of Travel, or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise

“The houses of the Latookas,” says Sir Samuel, “are generally bell-shaped, while others are precisely like huge candle-extinguishers, about twenty-five feet high. The roofs are neatly thatched, at an angle of about 75°, resting upon a circular wall about four feet high; thus the roof forms a cap descending to within two feet and a half of the ground. The doorway is only two feet and two inches high, thus an entrance must be effected upon all-fours. The interior is remarkably clean, but dark, as the architects have no idea of windows. It is a curious fact that the circular form of hut is the only style of architecture adopted among all the tribes of Central Africa, and also among the Arabs of Upper Egypt; and that, although these differ more or less in the form of the roof, no tribe has ever yet sufficiently advanced to construct a window. The town of Tarangdlé is arranged with several entrances, in the shape of low archways through the palisades; these are closed at night by large branches of the hooked thorn of the kittur bush (a species of mimosa). The main street is broad, but all others are studiously arranged to admit of only one cow, in single file, between high stockades; thus, in the event of an attack, these narrow passages could be easily defended, and it would be impossible to drive off their vast herds of cattle unless by the main street. The large cattle kraals are accordingly arranged in various quarters in connection with the great road, and the entrance of each kraal is a small archway in the strong iron-wood fence, sufficiently wide to admit one ox at a time. Suspended from the arch is a bell, formed of the shell of the Oolape palm-nut, against which every animal must strike either its horns or back, on entrance. Every tinkle of the bell announces the passage of an ox into the kraal, and they are thus counted every evening when brought home from pasture.”

While at Latooka Sir Samuel was enabled to gratify his passion for the chase, and his skill and prowess were rewarded by the capture of an elephant. There is a great difference, or rather, there are three great differences between the African and the Asiatic elephant: the back of the former is concave, that of the latter convex; the former has an enormous ear, the latter a comparatively small one; the head of the former has a convex front, while that of the latter exposes a flat surface a little above the trunk. The African animal is much larger than the Asiatic; and while the latter seeks the forest depths during the day, and does not wander forth upon the plains till towards evening, the former remains all day in the vast open prairies, where the thick grass springs to a height of twelve feet. The African elephant feeds chiefly on the foliage of trees; the Asiatic is an extensive grass feeder.

The natives hunt the elephant for the sake of the flesh and the tusks. Sometimes he is caught in pitfalls; at other times, the grass of the prairies is fired, and the elephants gradually driven back into a confined area, where they are surrounded and speared to death. Or, should a number of elephants be in the neighbourhood of a village, about a hundred men, armed with heavy-bladed lances, post themselves in as many trees, while a multitude of natives gradually drive the animals towards this ambush, when such as pass near enough are speared between the shoulders. The Bagara Arabs are famous elephant hunters. Armed with bamboo lances, tipped with a sharp iron head, two of them, mounted on good horses, sally forth to secure a prize. On coming in sight of a herd, they single out the finest tusker and separate him from the others. One man then leads the charge, and the animal, hotly pursued, turns against the horse, which the rider so manages as to draw the elephant further and further after him, while carefully keeping a safe distance ahead. The other man, meanwhile, is at the elephant’s heels, and suddenly dismounting, while at full gallop, plunges his spear into its body about two feet below the junction of the tail, driving it with all his strength into the abdomen, and then withdrawing it. If successful in his thrust, he remounts his horse and escapes, or takes to flight on foot, pursued by the elephant, until the attention of the latter is drawn to his first assailant, who in his turn rides up, and inflicts a wound. Sometimes the first wound proves fatal; sometimes the process is repeated twice or thrice before the animal succumbs; and sometimes the elephant overtakes his enemy, in which case the latter must expect no mercy.

On the 2nd of May, 1863, leaving five men in charge of his camp and baggage, Sir Samuel started for Obbo, crossing the Kanisti river, and travelling through a bold and romantic highland country. He found the vegetation of Obbo rich and various; the soil produced nine kinds of yams, and many capital kinds of fruit. Tobacco flourishes, and ground nuts are plentiful. As for the people, they attire themselves in the skin of an antelope or goat, wearing it mantle-wise across their shoulders; but when on the warpath, they paint their body with red and yellow stripes. Sir Samuel was received with all the honours by Katchiba, the chief of Obbo, and entertained with a grand dance, in which more vigour was displayed than elegance. About a hundred men formed a ring; each holding in his hand a small cup-shaped drum, formed of hollowed wood, over the perforated end of which was lightly stretched the skin of an elephant’s ear. In the centre was placed the chief dancer, wearing, suspended from his shoulders, an immense drum, also covered with elephant’s ear. The dance commenced with a wild but agreeable chorus, the time being kept by the big drum, and the small tympana striking in at certain periods, with so much precision as to give the effect of a single instrument. The figures varied continually, and the whole terminated with a “grand galop” in double circles, at a tremendous pace, the inner ring revolving in a contrary direction to the outer.

Sir Samuel returned to Latooka, and collecting his baggage and escort, started again for Obbo on the 13th of June. Here he and his wife remained for several months, waiting for a favourable opportunity to resume their southward march. Their quinine was exhausted, and consequently they suffered much from fever. Sir Samuel, in lieu of horses, purchased and trained for their contemplated journey three robust oxen, named respectively, “Beef,” “Steaks,” and “Suet.” He also obtained a supply of porters to carry his luggage, and arranged with Ibrahim, the friendly trader, that he should accompany him to Unyoro with a guard of one hundred men. It was the 5th of January, 1864, before the expedition started. On the very first day, however, one of the oxen bolted; and Sir Samuel was compelled to purchase another of one of the Turks at the price of a double-barrelled gun. Three days’ march through a beautiful country brought them to the Asua river, in lat. 3° 12′ N. Its bed was almost dry. On the 13th they arrived at Shooa. This is characterized as a lovely place. A noble mountain of granite ascended in a sheer precipice for about eight hundred feet from its base; perfectly abrupt on the eastern side, the other parts were of gradual inclination, covered with fine forest trees, and picturesquely studded with villages. The surrounding country, with its trees and rivulets and greensward, might have been taken for an English park, but for the granite rocks that rose at intervals like the gray ruins of ancient castles.

Shooa is a land of milk and honey. The travellers found fowls, butter, and goats abundant and ridiculously cheap; and as beads were highly valued, they effected some good bargains. The women flocked to see the white lady, bringing her gifts of milk and flowers, and receiving beads and bracelets in return. They were gentle in manner, and evidently anxious to establish friendly relations. Sir Samuel was struck by the superior cultivation of the country. Large quantities of sesamum were grown and carefully harvested, the crop being collected in oblong frames about twenty feet long and twelve feet high. These were inclined at an angle of about 60°; the pods of the sesamum plants hanging on one facet, so that the frames resembled enormous brushes. When fully dried, the crop was removed to the granaries, of which there were two kinds: the wicker-work plastered over with cow-dung, supported on four posts, with a thatched roof; and a simpler contrivance, which may be thus described: – A stout pole, twenty feet long, was fixed upright in the earth, and, at about four foot from the ground, a bundle of strong and long reeds was tied tightly round it. Round these reeds, at intervals, were fastened hoop of wicker-work, until the structure assumed the shape of an inverted umbrella half expanded. When this is filled with grain, fresh reeds are added, until the work has extended to within a few feet of the top of the pole. The whole is then crowned with a covering of reeds, securely strapped, and resembles nothing in the world so much as one of those cigars which slightly bulge in the middle.

At Shooa all Sir Samuel’s Obbo porters absconded, being afraid to enter Kamrasi’s country, and he found so much difficulty in supplying their places, that he resolved on leaving behind him every article that was not absolutely indispensable. How different an appearance his expedition presented to that which it had worn on leaving Khartûm! It was shorn of all its “pride and circumstance;” but its leader remained as resolute and as hopeful as ever, and started from Shooa on the 18th of January, determined to press forward to the Luta N’zige. After passing Fatiko, a village perched like an eagle’s eyrie on a rocky table-land, he entered upon a sea of prairies, an immense undulating expanse of verdure, dotted with a few palms. As his guide lost the road, Sir Samuel proposed to clear the country to the south by firing the prairies, and a strangely picturesque spectacle was the result. In a few minutes the flames roared before them, and waves upon waves of fire, and clouds upon clouds of smoke, rolled away to the far horizon. Flocks of buzzards and swarms of beautiful fly-catchers thronged to the spot, to prey upon the innumerable insects that endeavoured to escape from the approaching conflagration, which continued to extend until arrested by a reedy swamp.

On the 22nd, the expedition reached the Victoria White Nile, or, as it is sometimes called, the Somerset river, and proceeded through the magnificent forest that crowned its bank to the Karuma Falls. The river here was about a hundred and fifty yards wide, and flowed between lofty cliffs, which were green with vines, bananas, and palms. The falls, however, are very insignificant, not exceeding five feet in height. Just above them is a ferry, and Sir Samuel and Lady Baker crossing by it, found themselves in Unyoro, King Kamrasi’s country, and in his town or village of Atado. Speke and Grant had left behind them pleasant memories, so that Baker, as their friend and countryman, received a hearty welcome. A large hut was placed at the disposal of his wife and himself, and in exchange for fresh beef – Sir Samuel ordering an ox to be killed for the purpose – the natives furnished liberal quantities of flour, beans, and sweet potatoes. A brisk market was quickly set going, and whole rows of girls and women arrived, bringing baskets filled with the desired provisions. The women, we are told, were neatly dressed in short double-skirted petticoats: many had the bosom bare: others wore a piece of bark-cloth, plaid-wise, across chest and shoulders. Bark-cloth, which is exclusively used throughout Equatorial Africa, is the produce of a kind of fig tree. The bark is stripped off in large pieces, soaked in water, and beaten with a mallet. In appearance it much resembles corduroy, in colour tanned leather; the finer qualities are peculiarly soft to the touch, like woven cotton.

The travellers were struck by the difference between the Unyoro people and the tribes they had previously seen. On the north side of the Nile the natives were either wholly naked, or wore only a piece of skin across their shoulders. The river seemed to mark the limit or ne plus ultra of savagedom, for the inhabitants of Unyoro shrank like Europeans from the indecency and shame of nakedness. Their higher civilization was shown also by their manufactures: their smiths were very skilful, and used iron hammers instead of stone; they converted into fine wire the thick brass and copper wire which they received from Zanzibar; and their pottery showed a certain degree of taste in conception.

“The natives,” writes Sir Samuel, “are particularly neat in all they do; they never bring anything to sell unless carefully packed in the neatest parcels, generally formed of the bark of the plantain, and sometimes of the inner portions of reeds stripped into snow-white stalks, which are bound round the parcels with the utmost care. Should the plantain cider, ‘marossa,’ be brought in a jar, the mouth is neatly covered with a finger-like mat of these clean white rushes split into shreds. Not even tobacco is brought for sale unless most carefully packed. During a journey, a pretty, bottle-shaped, long-necked gourd is carried, with a store of plantain cider; the mouth of the bottle is stopped with a bundle of the white rush shreds, through which a reed is inserted that reaches to the bottom; thus the drink can be sucked up during the march without the necessity of halting; nor is it possible to spill it by the movement of walking.

“The natives,” he adds, “prepare the skins of goats very beautifully, making them as soft as chamois leather; these they cut into squares, and sew them together as neatly as would be effected by a European tailor, converting them into mantles, which are prized far more highly than bark-cloth, on account of their durability. They manufacture their own needles, not by boring the eye, but by sharpening the end into a fine point, and turning it over, the extremity being hammered into a small cut in the body of the needle to prevent it from catching.”

The arrival of Sir Samuel Baker being made known to Kamrasi, he requested him to pay a visit to his capital, and sent a legion of porters to carry his baggage. Lady Baker suffered much from illness on the journey, which she performed in a litter; and Sir Samuel was also attacked by a debilitating fever. His first interview with “the king” took place on the 10th of February. He describes him as a fine-looking man, whose extremely prominent eyes gave a peculiar expression to his countenance; about six feet high; and dressed in a long robe of bark-cloth, draped in graceful folds. The nails of his hands and feet were carefully tended, and his complexion was about as dark a brown as that of an Abyssinian. He sat upon a copper stool, with a leopard-skin carpet spread around him, and was attended by about ten of his principal chiefs. Of his character as a man Sir Samuel Baker speaks in the most unflattering terms; he was grasping, mean, mendacious, and a coward. After some delay, and by dint of repeated bribes, Sir Samuel obtained from him a supply of natives to carry the baggage to the lake, where canoes were to be provided for the voyage to Magango, a village situated at the junction of the Somerset river. He went to take leave of the royal savage, and was astonished by the insolent demand that Lady Baker should be left with him! Sir Samuel drew his revolver; Lady Baker broke out into invectives in Arabic, which the woman, Bachuta, translated as nearly as she could, and with indignant emphasis, into the language of Unyoro; in short, “a scene” ensued! Kamrasi was completely cowed, and faltered out, “Don’t be angry! I had no intention of offending you by asking for your wife; I will give you a wife, if you want one, and I thought you might have no objection to give me yours; it is my custom to give my visitors pretty wives, and I thought you might exchange. Don’t make it fuss about it: if you don’t like it, there’s an end of it; I will never mention it again.” Sir Samuel received the apology very sternly, and insisted upon starting. Kamrasi did not feel in a position to interpose any further delay, and the march to the lake began.

On the road a very painful incident occurred. The expedition had reached Uafour river, which ran through the centre of a marsh, and, although deep, was so thickly covered with matted and tangled water grass and other aquatic plants, that a natural floating bridge, some two feet in thickness, was available for crossing. The men passed it quickly, sinking merely to the ankles, though beneath the tough vegetation was deep water. It was equally impossible to ride or be carried over this fickle surface; Sir Samuel therefore led the way, and begged his wife to follow on foot as quickly as possible, keeping exactly in his track. The river was about eighty yards wide, and Sir Samuel had scarcely accomplished a fourth of the distance, when, looking back, he was horrified to see her standing in one spot, and sinking gradually through the weeds, while her face was distorted and perfectly purple. She fell, as if stricken dead. Her husband was immediately by her side, and, with the help of some of his men, dragged her through the yielding vegetation, across to the other side. There she was tenderly laid beneath a tree, and her husband bathed her head and face with water, thinking she had fainted. But he soon perceived that she was suffering from a sunstroke; and, removing her to a miserable hut close at hand, he watched anxiously for some sign of returning consciousness. We shall quote his own words in all their pathetic simplicity:

“There was nothing to eat in this spot. My wife had never stirred since she fell by the coup de soleil, and merely respired about five times a minute. It was impossible to remain; the people would have starved. She was laid gently upon her litter, and we started forward on our funeral course. I was ill and broken-hearted, and I followed by her side through the long day’s march over wild park lands and streams, with thick forest and deep marshy bottoms; over undulating hills, and through valleys of tall papyrus rushes, which, as we brushed through them on our melancholy way, waved over the litter like the black plumes of a hearse. We halted at a village, and again the night was passed in watching. I was wet, and coated with mud from the swampy marsh, and shivered with ague; but the cold within was greater than all. No change had taken place; she had never moved. I had plenty of fat, and I made four balls of about half a pound, each of which would burn for three hours. A piece of a broken water-jar formed a lamp, several pieces of rag serving for wicks. So in solitude the still calm night passed away as I sat by her side and watched. In the drawn and distorted features that lay before me I could hardly trace the same form that for years had been my comfort through all the difficulties and dangers of my path. Was she to die? Was so terrible a sacrifice to be the result of my selfish exile?

“Again the night passed away. Once more the march. Though weak and ill, and for two nights without a moment’s sleep, I felt no fatigue, but mechanically followed by the side of the litter as though in a dream. The same wild country diversified with marsh and forest. Again we halted. The night came, and I sat by her side in a miserable hut, with the feeble lamp flickering while she lay, as in death. She had never moved a muscle since she fell. My people slept. I was alone, and no sound broke the stillness of the night. The ears ached at the utter silence, till the sudden wild cry of a hyæna made me shudder as the horrible thought rushed through my brain, that, should she be buried in this lonely spot, the hyæna would.. disturb her rest.

“The morning was not far distant; it was past four o’clock. I had passed the night in replacing wet cloths upon her head, and moistening her lips, as she lay apparently lifeless on her litter. I could do nothing more; in solitude and abject misery in that dark hour, in a country of savage heathens, thousands of miles away from a Christian land, I beseeched an aid above all human, trusting alone to Him.

“The morning broke; my lamp had just burnt out, and, cramped with the night’s watching, I rose from my seat, and seeing that she lay in the same unaltered state, I went to the door of the hut to breathe one gasp of the fresh morning air. I was watching the first red streak that heralded the rising sun, when I was startled by the words, ‘Thank God,’ faintly uttered behind me. Suddenly she had awoke from her torpor, and with a heart overflowing I went to her bedside. Her eyes were full of madness! She spoke, but the brain was gone!”

II

Happily, after suffering for some days from brain fever, Lady Baker recovered consciousness, and thenceforward her progress, though slow, was sure. After a brief rest, the march to the lake was resumed by the undaunted travellers; for the devoted wife would not allow any consideration of her comfort or safety to come between her husband and the accomplishment of the work he had undertaken. At a village called Parkani, the guides informed them that they were only a day’s journey from the lake. In the west rose a lofty range of mountains, and Sir Samuel Baker had conjectured that the N’zige lay on the other side of it, but he was told that it actually formed its western or further boundary. Only a day’s journey! That night Sir Samuel could hardly sleep; his brain was fired with the thought that he was within so short a distance of the Source of the Nile – that in a few hours he might drink of the waters of its mysterious fountain. He was up before sunrise on the 14th of March, and crossing a deep cool valley between the hills, ascended the slope, gained the summit, and there, before him, flashing in the light of morning like a sea of quick-silver or a huge mirror of polished steel, lay the long-sought lake! The height on which he stood was about fifteen hundred feet above its level, so that he could survey the entire expanse of those welcome waters which had created fertility in the heart of the desert, and made the fame and wealth and glory of Egypt. He resolved that thenceforth they should bear a great name, and as the eastern reservoir of the Nile had been named after the Queen of England, he determined that the western should commemorate her lost and lamented consort, Prince Albert. It is therefore now known as the Albert Lake.

With some difficulty, but with a grateful heart, he and his wife descended the steep to the shore of the silent, shining lake, and took up their quarters in a fishing village called Vacovia. It was a wretched place, and the soil was strongly impregnated with salt; but discomforts were forgotten in the joy of a great discovery. Sir Samuel proceeded to collect all the information he could relative to its position. The chief of the village told him that its breadth was immense, but that large canoes had been known to cross from the other side after four days and nights of hard rowing. That other side, the west, was included in the great kingdom of Malegga, governed by King Kajoro, who traded with Kamrasi from a point opposite to Magango, where the lake contracted to the width of one day’s voyage. South of Malegga was a country named Tori, and the lake extended into the kingdom of Karagwé, with whose sovereign, Rumanika, Speke and Grant had maintained a friendly intercourse. Karagwé partly bounded the lake on the eastern side, and next to it, towards the north, came Utumbi; then, in succession, came Uganda, Unyoro, Chopé.

The Albert Nyanza formed a vast basin of water, lying far below the general level of the country, and receiving all its drainage. It was surrounded by precipitous cliffs, which left but a narrow strip of sand between them and the swelling waves, and bounded on the west and south-west by huge mountain-ranges, from five to seven thousand feet in altitude. Sir Samuel Baker, after a careful survey, concluded that it was the one great reservoir which received everything, from the passing shower to the roaring mountain torrent that drained from Central Africa towards the north. Speke’s Victoria Nyanza was a reservoir situated at a considerable elevation, receiving the waters from the west of the Kitangulé river, its principal feeder; but as the Albert Lake extended much farther north than the Victoria, it took up the river from the latter, and monopolized the entire head-waters of the Nile. In Sir Samuel’s opinion the Albert was the great reservoir, while the Nile was the eastern source; the parent streams that created these lakes were from the same origin, and the Kitangulé poured its waters into the Victoria, to be eventually received by the Albert. The discoveries of Mr. Stanley, however, impose on geographers the necessity of considerably modifying Sir Samuel Baker’s hypothesis, without detracting from the importance of his discovery. The Albert Lake really holds an inferior position to the Victoria, which unquestionably receives the parent waters of the Nile; but it is not the less one of its great reservoirs.