FOOTNOTES:
[3] “Through Jungle and Desert,” by William Astor Chanler, A.M. (Harv.), F.R.G.S., pp. 168-177.
[4] “Elephant Hunting in East Equatorial Africa,” by Arthur H. Neumann, pp. 42, 43.
CHAPTER VI.
OUR MOVEMENTS IN M’THARA AND MUNITHU.
Attempt of the Wa’M’thara to loot our camp—“Shauri” with Ismail—The Somalis accuse N’Dominuki of treachery—He vindicates himself—That wicked little boy!—Explanation of the Embe reverse—Somalis lose heart—Attacked by ants—El Hakim’s visit to Munithu—Robbery of his goods by the Wa’Gnainu—I join him—We endeavour to recover the stolen property from the Wa’Gnainu—The result.
Ismail’s apprehensions for the safety of our respective camps seemed to have been well founded. Jumbi, whom we had left in charge of our boma, reported that on the evening of our departure for Embe he had noticed that large numbers of armed natives were concealed in the surrounding bush. He unostentatiously put the camp in as good a state of defence as possible, and kept his few men moving about inside the boma to give an appearance of numbers. He then noticed that the long grass in the clearing was also crowded with concealed warriors, to the number of several hundred. Presently some of them showed themselves. He shouted to them, asking what they wanted. They answered by inquiring if the “Wasungu” were in camp. He, with ready wit, shouted back that one of the Wasungu had gone away somewhere, but the other two were in camp. Did they wish to see them? They apparently did not, and he saw no more of them, though they still remained within easy distance; and consequently he passed a very anxious night. Our unexpected return next morning disconcerted the warriors, who hastily retreated. They were the fighting men we had passed on our way back. Jumbi said they were Wa’M’thara, which, if true, was a very serious matter.
The men in charge of the Somalis’ camp made a similar report. Without doubt the natives’ plan was to wait till news arrived of our defeat and massacre in Embe, and then to rush and loot the camps, after spearing the few defenders. These preparations seemed to indicate a deep-laid plan on the part of some one, and some one, also, who was sure of success.
Ismail Robli, with several of the other Somalis, came into our camp in the afternoon showing every sign of terror, which they endeavoured, unsuccessfully, to conceal. They asked for a “shaurie,” and when we granted their request, they came out with a ridiculous story of treachery on the part of N’Dominuki. They declared he was a traitor, ignoring the fact, which we pointed out to them, that N’Dominuki had been kept in ignorance of our plans. They further stated that he was even now preparing to attack us at the head of the Wa’M’thara, reinforced by a strong body of Wa’Embe. We refused point-blank to believe a word of it. On questioning them as to their source of information, they said that a man from Chanjei, who had come into their camp to sell food, had told them. We were disgusted with their credulity, and said as much. El Hakim told them that he had known N’Dominuki for years as the most trustworthy of natives, and so had other Englishmen before him, and he would not believe that he had turned traitor, on the more than doubtful word of a casual native, whom nobody knew, and who was of no consequence or position.
Ismail was obstinate. He persisted in his assertion that N’Dominuki was a traitor, and instanced the armed Wa’M’thara who had concealed themselves round about our camps the night before, as proof of his words. We were a little troubled, as, though we would not for a moment believe N’Dominuki to be the traitor, we did not know what his people might do without his knowledge, or in spite of him. At all events, the presence of armed men round our camp needed explanation. As we did not quite understand matters, we sent for N’Dominuki, asking him to come to our camp, as we wished particularly to see him. Our messenger returned in the course of the day with a message to the effect that N’Dominuki was suffering from fever, and was unable to come. We sent up again, with some medicine, asking him to come if possible. He again returned an answer that he was ill, but would come to-morrow.
His non-appearance seemed proof positive to Ismail and his following that N’Dominuki was actively hostile. They were, in consequence, in a perfectly frantic state. Of course, had N’Dominuki turned traitor we should have been in a very bad fix, though it was only what could have been expected after the double reverse in Embe. However, we were very loth to believe it of him in the absence of direct and conclusive evidence.
Ismail returned to his own camp, but visited us an hour or so later with a fresh budget of news to the effect that N’Dominuki had received the Embe chief in his house, and had killed a sheep in his honour. Once more we sent to N’Dominuki, this time detailing the charges alleged against him, and saying that, although we did not believe them, we should be obliged if he would visit us as soon as possible. He sent back to say that he would come to-morrow without fail.
All these conflicting accounts caused us considerable anxiety. As for the Somalis, they were in a most pitiable state; that is, it would have been pitiable had it not been so thoroughly contemptible. They appeared panic-stricken, and worked with feverish energy in strengthening their boma, felling huge trees and cutting thorn bush till long after sundown. We ourselves did not neglect obvious precautions, and strengthened our boma a little, more especially for the purpose of reassuring our men, amongst whom the Somalis’ stories had created something like alarm. We then sent a peremptory message to the Somali camp, warning them that if their frightened sentries, through a false alarm or any such cause, fired in the direction of our camp, we should not hesitate to return the fire with interest. This message had the effect of calming their nerves a little.
Next morning they again came over to our camp, still with the same old tale of N’Dominuki’s treachery. These repeated allegations against N’Dominuki caused us to suspect some ulterior motive. Still another urgent message was sent to N’Dominuki, and this time he sent back word that he was coming with his people, bringing food. He arrived an hour or so after the message, and sending for Ismail and the other Somalis, we held a big “shaurie.”
First we asked N’Dominuki why he had not appeared in answer to our frequent messages the day before. He replied that he and his people had fled to the hills with all their cattle and goods, under the impression that we were going to attack them!
We inquired who gave him that idea, and he said that a boy from the Somali camp had told him so.
Then we began to see daylight. We inquired where the boy was. N’Dominuki replied that as far as he knew he was still in the Somali camp, so we ordered Ismail to produce him. In a few minutes he was delivered, bound, at our feet. A cross-examination of the Somalis elicited the fact that the boy had deserted from their camp, taking with him one of their sheep. On being again questioned, N’Dominuki stated that the boy had come to him for shelter. He had told the boy that he would not allow him to stop there, but would send him back to his masters, but the artful little boy said, “I have done it for your sake, N’Dominuki. I wished to warn you that the Wasungu and the Wa’Somali are about to attack you.” N’Dominuki believed him, and fled forthwith.
In a little while the boy, not liking the life with the natives, and yearning for the flesh-pots of the camp, returned to the Somalis, after having concocted a satisfactory explanation of his absence. He made out to the Somalis that he had gone as a spy on N’Dominuki, who was an “el moruo torono” (a wicked old man), as he had heard that he was hostile to his dear masters, and that at great risk and personal inconvenience he had carried out his plan successfully. He then solemnly warned them that N’Dominuki was preparing to attack them. He counted on the gravity of his announcement averting any unpleasant inquiries about the stolen sheep—a ruse which was completely successful.
Now we had got hold of the truth. Small boys will be small boys all the world over, whether white or black, and this little untutored specimen of his genus had kept a hundred and fifty armed men, in two camps, in a state of intense anxiety for two days, and had driven a tribe with all its cattle and goods in mortal terror into the hills for the same period, in order to cover his impish escapade. He was treated in the same way as from time immemorial other small boys have been—for equally reprehensible escapades, and forthwith received the thrashing he so richly deserved.
We gently chided N’Dominuki for believing “that little vulgar boy,” and asked him why he had not come into camp and found out the truth for himself. He was afraid, he said, that we should bind him and kill him at our leisure! El Hakim represented that it was very unkind to think that of him, who was such an old and proved friend. N’Dominuki’s only reply was “The boy told me so!” That is a savage all over! They believe the first story that comes to hand, even against their better judgment. In N’Dominuki’s case, although his experience of white men had always been of the best and pleasantest, he had met them late in life, and had never quite lost the savage’s innate distrust of strangers.
We dismissed the crestfallen Somalis, and advised them to give less credence to casual reports in future. They seemed very sulky, and were, we were beginning to believe, rather sorry that N’Dominuki had successfully vindicated himself.
From that old savage we afterwards gathered a great deal of information, which threw considerable light on the recent events in Embe. It was now shown beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Masai volunteer guide was an Embe native who, while spying round, had seized the opportunity offered him of serving us to our disadvantage. The Somalis were greatly to blame for saying that they knew him. So they did, but in the hurry of the moment they had neglected to tell us that they had merely seen him knocking about their camp for a day or two.
When we passed through M’thara in the darkness we were observed by some of the Wa’M’thara, who were friendly to the Wa’Embe, and who immediately sent off a runner with the news of our advance, thus giving the enemy time to skilfully prepare the nice little trap into which we all walked. Our escape throughout was due more to good luck than good management, as the party who ambushed us and killed Jamah Mahomet were only an advanced post of the Wa’Embe, the main body being posted a mile further on, where they had dug numbers of pits in the path, in which they, with great forethought, had placed sharp-pointed stakes. It was their intention to attack us when we were floundering about in these pits.
We had sadly underrated the skill and courage of the enemy, and altogether had had a very narrow escape from irretrievable disaster. If we had underestimated their capabilities, however, they had also paid us the same compliment. The terrific fire which instantly greeted their first onslaught must have surprised them greatly. It certainly daunted them, and probably considerably disarranged their plans, preventing them from bringing their main body up and surrounding us. Before they had formed any fresh plan we had made good our retreat, which, in the light of subsequent knowledge, proved to be a wise, if somewhat humiliating step.
N’Dominuki said we should have told him of our plans. He only heard of our intention to attack Embe after we had passed his village, and it was then too late to warn us. He offered, if we wished to renew the attack, to personally guide us into Embe by a much better path, with open country on either side; the road we had followed being the very worst one we could have chosen. His proffered assistance was gladly accepted, and we communicated with the Somalis, expecting they would jump at this opportunity of avenging the death of their leader. To our intense surprise, they did nothing of the kind, but replied that they only wished to buy food peaceably, and go their way northward. We were simply astounded, and could not at first believe that Somalis, above all people, could be so craven-spirited; besides, a successful punitive expedition had now become a vital necessity if we were to preserve the lives of our party, and render the country safe for those travellers who might come after us.
Already there were ominous mutterings among the surrounding tribes, begotten of our reverse in Embe, but we could not get Ismail to see the matter in the same light, argue as we would. Jamah’s death seemed to have thoroughly discouraged him. We reasoned, we begged, but to no purpose. George and I went over to his camp in the evening in order to make a final effort to rouse a little spirit in him. George has a wonderful knowledge of Arabic, and he used it then with vigour and fluency. I also possess a rudimentary knowledge of vituperation in that language, and employed it to the utmost; but in vain. We argued, threatened, cajoled, and insulted, but could get no response, beyond the statement from Ismail that he was a man of peace, and wished to go his way and trade. I pointed out to him with some emphasis that it was not because he was a “man of peace” that he did not fall in with our views, as I had had ocular demonstration of the fact that he was the very reverse when he felt inclined. The reason, I told him, that he did not wish to avenge the blood of Jamah, which was crying aloud for vengeance, was a cowardly fear of a few naked savages, who were not even Mohammedans. I called Allah to witness that he was a traitor to his blood and his religion, and that Jamah, from among the “houris” in Paradise would look down and curse him for “an unclean dog without religion.”[5] He smiled a sickly smile, and repeated that he was a peaceful trader, not a man of war. I then spat upon the ground to show my utter contempt for him, and left him.
The following day we bought a large quantity of food from N’Dominuki’s people, and packed it in loads in preparation for our march to the Waso Nyiro. In the afternoon Koromo, the man who met us with the honey when we were returning from Embe, came into camp with N’Dominuki and requested the honour of blood-brotherhood with El Hakim, and that interesting though disgusting ceremony was accordingly performed. That night George and I had a very disagreeable experience. We and the puppy had gone to our tent for a good night’s sleep after the worry and trouble of the last three days. The pup was very restless, and ran whining about the tent in a most annoying manner. At first we thought it was only his “cussedness,” and scolded him well; but he got worse instead of better, and finally rolled frantically on the ground, yelping most dismally. Suddenly George said “D——n!” in a loud voice, and sprang up from his bed, which was on the ground, and after a little searching pulled a black insect from some part of his anatomy. He at once examined his blankets, and found that they were literally covered with tiny black ants, which, in spite of their small size, bit most ferociously. I also turned out and found the ground under my bed was a seething black mass of ants, which instantly attacked the unprotected portions of my person with an earnestness and attention to business which, under other circumstances, would have commanded my highest admiration. Mine was a camp-bed standing a foot off the ground, and consequently there were comparatively few on my blankets. We turned our attention to the agonized puppy, and found that the poor little brute was black underneath with the tiny pests, who had bitten into his flesh and held on like limpets. We brushed him free and put him out of harm’s way, swept out the floor of the tent, getting innumerable bites on our naked feet and legs in the process, and sent for some ashes, with which we liberally sprinkled the ground, and also spread them in a circle round the tent, which to some extent mitigated the nuisance. I did not suffer so much, as my bed, as already explained, was some inches above the ground, and consequently George, who slept on a heap of rushes, bore the brunt of the attack. I was aroused several times during the night by a muttered exclamation from the darkness on his side of the tent, followed by the slap which signalled the hurried exit of another of our tiny enemies from this world of woe. We found in the morning that we had not been the only sufferers. Round all the men’s tents a broad band of ashes testified to the defensive measures they had been compelled to adopt. The cry of “siafu” (ants) in camp is at all times a signal for instant action. Red-hot ashes are hastily gathered and sprinkled in the path of the advancing horde, and the greatest excitement prevails till the foe is finally vanquished. I was compelled to shift our tent during the day to another spot some distance away. By first beating down the earth into a hard concrete-like floor and then strewing it with ashes, we hoped to prevent a recurrence of the attack of the previous night, an arrangement we found to answer admirably.
ELDERS OF M’THARA.
DIRITO AND VISELI (on the right) AND TWO FOLLOWERS. (See page [132].)
The same day the Somalis left M’thara for Chanjai, where they desired to purchase food. They promised that on their return in four days’ time they would accompany us on another expedition into Embe—a result I should have attributed to my eloquence of the night before had we not been perfectly aware of the unreliability of their promises. El Hakim, however, decided to wait on the off-chance of their returning, and resolved to fill in a day or two by a journey back to Munithu to collect food, and also to try to get news as to how far our Embe reverse had affected native feeling towards us in those districts. He took eight men with rifles with him. I amused myself all the morning trying to make toffee from native honey and butter. The resulting compound, though palatable enough, could not be induced to harden, so we were compelled to devour it with a spoon. George gave in at midday to a nasty touch of fever. I administered a couple of phenacetin tabloids, and sweated him well, which towards evening reduced his temperature. Next morning he was decidedly better, and together we made a tour of inspection round the camp. We saw a peculiar striped rat in the boma, which we nicknamed the zebra rat. It was mouse-coloured with black stripes, but as we had not a trap we could not secure a specimen. At midday George was down again with the fever, and I dosed him once more. At 12.30 two men came back from El Hakim with a note for me. He asked for some fresh bread and a bottle of milk, also for six more men with rifles. It seemed that the Wa’G’nainu, the people of a district west of Munithu, on hearing of our Embe reverse, had come down and looted some of the trade goods which El Hakim had left in Bei-Munithu’s charge, and that he intended to try to recover them. He also asked for my company if I could leave camp. As George was so queer I did not feel justified in leaving him, but on his assurance that he was quite able to look after himself while I was away, I decided to go.
I took no baggage or blankets, and with six men and four donkeys, which were required to bring back the balance of El Hakim’s goods still remaining with Bei-Munithu, started at one o’clock, intending to try to reach Munithu the same evening, though it had taken the safari two days to reach M’thara from Munithu on the outward journey. At sundown, after a toilsome and seemingly interminable march, my party and I arrived at El Hakim’s camp outside Bei-Munithu’s village, where El Hakim, pleased at our rapid journey, forthwith ministered to my material wants in the way of towels, soap, and supper. After our meal he summoned Bei-Munithu, and bade him recapitulate for my benefit the story of the pillaged goods. Briefly it amounted to this: A large party of the Wa’G’nainu had come on a friendly visit to Bei-Munithu. During their sojourn with him a report came to hand that the Wasungu had been driven out of Embe with great loss, and one of them had been killed. The news caused some excitement, and, as was only natural, the assembled natives discussed in what way the Wasungu’s supposed misfortunes could be turned to profitable account. It was already well known that Bei-Munithu had one of his huts filled from floor to roof with the trade goods and equipment of the chief Wasungu, and it did not require much persuasion to induce that venerable humbug to exhibit the contents to his guests. The sight of so much riches naturally inflamed the already excited cupidity of the Wa’G’nainu. The next step was easy. In spite of Bei-Munithu’s lukewarm remonstrances, they helped themselves liberally and departed, exulting, to their villages. The next day El Hakim unexpectedly arrived, and, entirely unaware of what had taken place, asked that his trade goods should be brought out for his inspection, as he wanted to take them over to M’thara. Bei-Munithu, with many excuses and much wringing of hands, detailed the events of the preceding day. El Hakim was exceedingly wroth, and he there and then wrote me the note which had brought me over.
After Bei-Munithu had retired to his village we talked matters over. El Hakim was very much annoyed at the turn of affairs, and assured me that this was only one of the unpleasant results of our reverse in Embe. What others were in store for us, time alone would disclose. We decided before we turned in that we would go early on the morrow to G’nainu and demand our goods. We wished to proceed on the principle of suaviter in modo rather than fortiter in re, but if the former failed we were determined to apply the latter without hesitation. El Hakim had taken an inventory of the missing goods, and found that more than four loads had disappeared. Bei-Munithu’s conduct in the affair was not above suspicion, but we could not afford to quarrel with him just then.
At night a bed of banana leaves was made up for me on the ground in El Hakim’s tent, which, with the addition of a couple of blankets, made me as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. My well-earned rest, however, was soon disturbed by the field-rats, which used me as a playground, and continually skipped and jumped over my body and face, to their own infinite amusement and my extreme discomfort. Two or three times during the night I woke up and found a large rat curled up fast asleep in the hollow of my neck or under my arm. El Hakim awoke at my frequent and somewhat profane exclamations, and gently inquired what was the matter. When I held forth on the drawbacks of slumber in the savage wilds, he feigned polite incredulity, and remarked, “Shocking, shocking! Most unfortunate delusions! Very regrettable, Hardwick, very;” and turning over in his blankets, he added insult to injury by chuckling audibly at intervals for an hour afterwards, in a most aggravating manner.
At four o’clock next morning we roused our fourteen men, and set out for G’nainu, some twenty or thirty of Bei-Munithu’s men accompanying us. It was rather a rough tramp, the country being very hilly and much cut up by ravines and streams. We crossed the river Kazeta (which flows in a south-easterly direction through Zura at an average altitude of 5000 feet) by a tree-trunk bridge, and at seven o’clock reached the first village of the Wa’G’nainu and halted outside. Our men waved green branches as a sign that we came in peace, but got no answer, the village, which was very strongly fortified, seeming to be entirely deserted. It was situated on the crest of a forest-covered hill, and was surrounded by a very massive outer stockade of roughly hewn tree-trunks with pointed tops. Inside there were two additional stockades of pointed logs, and the huts within were also stockaded one from the other, the whole forming a position almost impregnable to an enemy without firearms. We waited for a while, but were unable to get any answer to our signals, and held a consultation to decide on our next move, but in the middle of the discussion a shower of poisoned arrows from the surrounding bush winged their destructive way into our midst, killing three of Bei-Munithu’s men outright; at the same time the now familiar war-cry rose on all sides, and resounded from hilltop to hilltop in a manner which showed us that we were fully expected.
The natives, we found afterwards, had driven off most of the stock, which, with all their women and children, was safely out of the way on the hills, while their husbands and fathers contentedly settled down to a comfortable day’s fighting with the Wasungu, with the prospect of a nice little massacre afterwards as a fitting conclusion to a most enjoyable day.
We were compelled to quickly decide upon our course of action, as the Munithu men were wavering, and their desertion would have meant disaster, they alone knowing the paths. Retreat was not to be thought of, as, taken in combination with the Embe reverse, it would have confirmed the natives in their opinion of our helplessness, and our prestige would be hopelessly lost. Our men summarily settled the question by firing a volley into the surrounding bush in reply to fresh showers of arrows. We were now in for a large-sized quarrel, and as we did not see any immediate prospect of recovering our pillaged goods by pacific means, we determined to avail ourselves of the opportunity to recover at least their value, and also to punish the treacherous Wa’G’nainu for their unprovoked attack. Accordingly we gave the word of command, and our little force advanced at the double and captured the village without encountering any serious opposition. Inside were a few goats and sheep that had been left behind in the general stampede which occurred when our arrival was first signalled. The enemy had drawn off for reinforcements, and meanwhile contented themselves, after the native fashion, with shouting insulting remarks, together with a list of the various surgical operations they later on intended performing upon our persons.
El Hakim mustered our men in the village, and divided them into two parties, one of which he placed under my command, with orders to forage round for more live stock, while he, at the head of the other, held the village as a fortified base.
When I was about to select the men I required, we discovered, to our consternation, that there were only nine instead of fourteen! Questions elicited no information as to the whereabouts of the absentees. It was that firebrand Sadi ben Heri and three or four of his particular cronies who were missing. I had seen them only ten minutes before, but where they had gone after we captured the village I could not ascertain; however, we trusted they would turn up all right. I took five men of our own and about a dozen of the Wa’Munithu to try to capture some more stock in order to balance our account with the Wa’G’nainu.
They certainly made me work for what little I captured. They disputed every plantation and every village till I began to run short of ammunition. Two or three of my Munithu contingent were killed, so when I reached the next village I burnt it, just to show the enemy that they had in no way intimidated us by their opposition; a proceeding which heartened my men wonderfully. It was very hard work. Every village was perched on an eminence, and in most cases reached by only one, or at the most two, almost inaccessible paths. I proceeded all the time at the double, so that my men should not have time to think about the danger, and after racing up and down several hills as steep as the roof of a house, I was fairly pumped and streaming with perspiration, in spite of the comparatively low temperature. I captured a few head of cattle and a hundred or so sheep and goats in the course of an hour or two, and burnt four villages in the process; which proceeding greatly facilitated my safe retirement to the base held by El Hakim, when I was forced both by lack of breath and ammunition to turn my footsteps thither.
During my retirement the enemy concentrated in force along my route, but a few well-directed shots from my ·303 persuaded them that it was safer to scatter and take cover. I rejoined El Hakim, and found that he had also gathered a couple of dozen or so additional goats and sheep, and three or four head of cattle. It was then nine o’clock in the morning. There was no sign of the five missing men. The war-cries and howls of the enemy were increasing rapidly in volume, and it became more and more evident that a determined effort was to be made by them to prevent our return. Our Munithu contingent showed unmistakable signs of wavering, so we concluded that in the interests of our own lives and those of our remaining men we had better put on a determined front, and fight our way back to Munithu. We therefore burnt our temporary headquarters, and retired in good order, trusting that the misguided Sadi ben Heri and his equally misguided companions had already safely retired by another route.
After leaving the village the path abruptly descended into a narrow valley and ascended the opposite slope, winding amid thick bush, in which large numbers of the enemy had congregated. Our first view of them was by no means encouraging. The bush seemed alive with them. We were at once greeted with a shower of poisoned arrows at long range, which, though they did no bodily harm, badly shook the nerves of the men; but El Hakim and I put in a little fancy shooting at 200 yards, and order was soon restored. We got safely through that particular part, but several times in the next mile or so we were greeted with showers of arrows from concealed natives. A few shots, however, generally persuaded them that discretion was the better part of valour.
After a tiring march, with intervals of skirmishing, we reached Munithu with our captures intact. When we reckoned them up, however, they barely covered the value of the trade goods stolen, to say nothing of the expenditure of ammunition and the personal risk entailed in the collection. We were very tired and very hungry, but before eating we dispatched native spies to try to obtain news of the missing men. After lunch we retired for an hour to sleep off the effects of our unusual exertion.