Chapter Nineteen.
They start on their Adventures.
“Well, boys, at last we are having our desires and realising our wildest dreams.”
Ned was the speaker, and Fred and Clarence the recipients of his sentiments. Six weeks had gone by since the night they first slept at Salisbury, and now they were encamped in the heart of unknown Africa.
Cecil Rhodes, their benefactor, had taken up their idea of exploring, and as he never did things by half or in a dilatory fashion, he had fitted them with every requisite on a princely scale. As it was dangerous, even with all his great influence, to keep them within the limits of civilisation, he packed them off promptly and secretly to the kraal of a native ally, and there they remained perdu until their carriers and luggage were sent to them.
They were young and lacking in experience, but, as Rhodes said, so was Joseph Thomson when he led his first expedition across Africa, and what the son of a Scottish borderman could accomplish, so ought these plucky and well-educated young Englishmen. They had all the rudiments of science needful for their purpose, and experience would teach them the rest.
He therefore drew out a careful chart for them to follow, gave them full instructions how to treat with the natives, and, what was of most service, sent with them a full complement of tried native hunters, guides, interpreters, and carriers. They had not a boy that was not faithful and trustworthy. Each of them knew the man who had sent them, and could depend upon being well rewarded on their return.
Amongst their servants, to their great delight, were Cocoeni and six of their fellow-prisoners. The rest had decided to return to their own people, but these, having nowhere else to go, volunteered gladly to join the expedition.
Cocoeni had some adventures to tell them of their perils by the way. Fortunately, however, they had all got clear of the Transvaal without disaster.
Their outfit was thoroughly complete to the smallest detail. A dozen of properly salted horses accompanied them, while they had eighty carriers to bear their luggage. A good waterproof tent was amongst the items, with medicines, beads, and bales of showy cotton to pay their way along.
As for arms and ammunition, they had every weapon that was wanted for the largest game, as well as for smaller kinds. They were also amply provided with the best and latest improvements in rifles and revolvers, and sufficient ammunition to last them for a couple of years.
Ned, of course, took the leadership, and his orders from headquarters were most liberal. He was given a wide track of yet unexplored country to traverse, with full licence to use his own discretion.
“Keep a diary,” said Rhodes. “And jot down anything that interests you specially. Watch carefully the lands you pass through, and their condition and possibilities, and make the best maps you can of rivers, mountains, and plains. Above all, look carefully after your own health and that of your boys, and avoid as much as possible swampy and malarious ground.”
For all the rest they were to do as they liked. Hunt, enjoy themselves, make friends as much as possible with the chiefs, and avoid anything like aggression.
“Go, and stay away for at least six months, and when you return, bring a good report of yourselves. And may the Lord watch over you.”
These were the final words of their commander, who, with his lieutenant, Dr Jim, had come to see them make the start.
It gave them great confidence to have this great man as their friend and backer. They knew that he had smoothed many difficulties out of their path, and also that he would not be idle in their behalf during their absence. Kruger would not have it quite all his own way with Cecil Rhodes at their back.
What a difference had those six months of freedom and responsibility made upon them! They were master men now in all respects excepting years. With this large following to look after and provide for, what remained of their boyhood, which the prison had not shown, now had left them for ever. Cecil Rhodes knew what he was about when he sent them off on their own account to face the dangers and trials of exploration.
“If they come back, as I firmly believe they will, we shall have three worthy successors to Selous. These boys have brains and good pluck, and their prison experience will be all to their advantage. I am pleased with them, and have every confidence in their fitness for the task.”
So Cecil Rhodes said, as he waved his riding-whip to them for the last time, and returned to his own heavy and multifold duties.
Filled with fortitude and high hopes, our heroes departed, leading their company of followers into the tropical forest. They were on the outlook for adventures, and from the first day they were not disappointed.
Every hour brought some fresh excitement, and opened new wonders to their eyes. They were passing through a land perfectly crammed with animal life, so that there was no fear of going supperless to sleep, so far at least.
Our heroes had been wonderfully particular in keeping their diaries for the first week or two. A good deal oppressed with the importance of their mission, and fresh to the work of note-taking, they cudgelled their brains to find far-fetched and varied expressions, so as to give their efforts literary style. Their models in style were those ponderous and laboured essays which generally find favour with dictation masters, where a word repeated is considered bad form. The result was that their descriptions were of the grand, verbose, and vague order, rather than the terse and realistic. Striving to produce effect and variety of language, they at times forgot the main object, which was to make themselves intelligible, and present the route vividly in few words. Redundancy is the failing of juvenile literature. Brevity the soul of experience as well as wit, and simplicity the gift only of poets and matured masters.
They went along, more often thinking of what they should write, than watching for material by the way. They pulled out their pocket-books when any particularly erudite words or expressions occurred to them, and jotted these down with supreme satisfaction, to drag them in somehow in the day’s log. At nights, while sitting at their camp fires, they compared these high-falutin notes, and mutually congratulated each other over these jaw-crackers. It was a sweet joy to read them over aloud, and roll them round their tongues. They were most generous to each other in imparting their critical advice, and sharing their choice expressions, while, as they had all been educated in the same school, the three logs, rolled into one, was written down by Ned, and after great deliberation and corrections, was laid aside as the final copy.
This was composed and written, as they fondly imagined, for the printers. They were mighty particular, therefore, over it, so that it would read smoothly and roundly, and when done, they compared it with other travellers’ works that they had read, with happy conceit. Herodotus and Mungo Parke, they admitted modestly, had done as well, perhaps. Joseph Thomson also was pretty fair with his wise and moral reflections; but as for those other slovenly writers like Stanley, Selous, and such-like, they thought their amalgamated journal would keep them at a respectful distance.
This juvenile mutual admiration and camp log rolling was a great solace to them for the first week or so. The journal interfered a good deal with sport and real business, of course. Thinking of it made them miss many a fine chance and good shot, and several times ran them into real danger; but it consoled them all the same, while the novelty lasted, for those other unavoidable mischances.
Their carriers did not object, as it gave them many opportunities for resting, which they would not have had otherwise.
But Cocoeni and the hunters protested often and vehemently against this waste of time and opportunities. The hunters, who had started full of faith in their young masters, lost a good deal of their enthusiasm and respect, and might have turned heel altogether in disgust, if Cocoeni had not flagged up their weakening interest. Cocoeni was, however, their right-hand man and staunch supporter. He was an enthusiast in deeds of daring and destruction, and equally ready to wash his spear in wild beast or hostile man. If he grunted impatiently when he saw the note-book produced instead of the gun, he always did his best to excuse the weakness and explain the mistake away to his sable brethren.
“Bah! this is nothing,” he would say, when he saw the carefully tracked animal bound away unscathed, all on account of those note-books. “Don’t be afraid. This is only the beginning. By-and-by you will see our masters wake up and do great deeds. By-and-by they will not write. We have been together before, and I know them to be men.”
A timely accident, for which Cocoeni was to blame, either with intent or through carelessness, terminated this fit of cocoethes scribendi for the rest of that expedition, at least, and woke them up to sterner duties.
Cocoeni, whom they trusted with their most valuable effects, was one day carrying the small valise which contained their entire stock of writing-material. They were crossing a mountain torrent, which rushed tumultuously through a chasm and over a series of cataracts, when his foot slipped, and in an instant the precious packet was swept out of his grasp and whirled out of sight.
The caravan was instantly stopped and a wild search ordered, in which Cocoeni willingly took the lead.
But, alas! all that was found of the contents of the valise were a couple of closely written sheets. These Cocoeni brought back in a smudged and soapy condition after many hours’ absence. As for the broken valise and its pulpy contents, he said he had seen a greedy crocodile bolt these without compunction at one gulp, and straightway disappear into a dark pool as if he had taken enough.
Our heroes spent a doleful night, looking at their crammed note-books and those two hardly legible sheets of paper, all that remained of their painful and laboured efforts.
They had plenty of pencils, but not one blank scrap of paper to use them on. The wail of Ramma rang in their hearts, and for a time they were disconsolate.
Then Ned plucked up his courage and cheered his chums.
“We’ll just have to do a bit of memory practice after this, boys, and put down all we have seen when we get back to civilisation.”
“Let us keep these two sheets carefully as a specimen of what we are capable of. I fancy they will rather impress our great chief when he reads them.”
Comforted with this reflection, they packed their note-books and the manuscript carefully inside their medicine-chest, and devoted their future days to adventures, and their evenings to criticism on the faulty writings of other travellers. This cheered and elevated their minds greatly, until the time came when note-books and style were completely swallowed up by action as their valise had been by the saurian.
When Cecil Rhodes read those two rescued pages he laid back in his chair and wept. When asked by Dr Jim the cause of his emotion, he replied that it was out of pity for that poor crocodile. Even the most loathsome of reptiles deserved commiseration for such a dire fate.
We quote a few extracts from the precious manuscript which affected this most reticent of men so visibly. A little will be sufficient to prove how thoroughly in earnest our heroes were.
“July 28.—The palaeolithic region over which we are passing possesses fertile streaks of fluviatile deposits that are most encouraging to future agriculturists. This superincumbent alluvium is most effusive on the depressed basins or water-sheds. Here also the tsetse fly is indigenous and multitudinous. Three of our horses have succumbed to the virulence of these pestiferous and dipterous insects.
“Memo.—The tsetse is similar in appearance and magnitude to the ordinary house epidemic.
“July 29.—After traversing for the past lunar month over more or less elevated plateaux, with intermissions of gorges and kloofs, we have commenced our descent into a deep depression, or valley. Before us extends an umbrageous and interminable wilderness. Precipitous cliffs bar our progress to the right and left, which have been gradually approaching each other until we are enclosed in a circumscribed upland chasm. We must either retrace our steps or enter this lower level. We have decided to proceed downwards. Hitherto we have been on friendly terms with the inhabitants. They have welcomed our presence and imparted to us all the information at their command. They have also accepted our presents with the most affable liberality.
“The country over which we have passed has been generally adequately populated, with distinct communities and agglomerations of huts of considerable magnitude. It is well watered by rivers and tributaries, and each village has its own fructiferous plantation, also fields of maize, manioc, and other granuliferous produce. The Carnivora fissipedia is well represented in these upland regions, likewise the ungulated order. We have encountered several lions and leopards, and demolished a pair of the first and one of the latter species.”
(One of these first-named Carnivora fissipedia had nearly demolished Ned while he was making his notes for this elaborate extract, only that Cocoeni came to his rescue just in the nick of time. Ned, however, did not think this narrow escape worth making a note about. It was merely a personal item, he said, which could not possibly interest the great public that he was striving so hard and conscientiously to instruct.)
“We have been dining on buffalo-steak and elephant heart tonight, having bagged one of each species this afternoon in a reedy swamp through which we passed. The pecora was a tough customer to deal with, as we failed to kill him at the first volley, but eventually he was subdued. The tusks of the proboscidean weighed over a hundred pounds. We have inhumed this ivory until our return. Tomorrow we vertigate the forest.”