CHAPTER XV. AN INTERVAL OF REST.
The next morning, as Stanley looked out of his tent-door upon the broad and beautiful lake, it was with that intense feeling of satisfaction with which one contemplates a great and perilous undertaking, which, after being well-nigh abandoned, is at last successfully accomplished. The waters, glittering in the morning sun, had but a short time before seemed to him an angry foe, but now they wore a friendly aspect. They seemed to belong to him. Livingstone, and Speke, and Burton, and others had looked on that lake, and sighed in vain to solve the mystery that enveloped it, while he had not only followed its winding shores their entire length, but had sounded its depths and fixed its geographical position forever. His toils were over, and the victory won in this his first great enterprise, and he could well look forward with hope to the great work still before him. His escapes had been wonderful, and he might take them as good omens for the future.
It seemed as if fate delighted to place him in positions of danger, from which there appeared to be no escape, in order to show her power to save him under any and all circumstances. Even now, when contemplating so satisfactorily his success, he was startled by the narrowness of his escape from a danger of which he had never before dreamed. That trouble, disorder and desertion might befall his camp during his absence he had often feared, but now he was told by the men he had left in charge of it, that in a few hours more the expedition would have broken up and disappeared forever.
This was Frank Pocoke's report. He said that a rumor had reached camp that Stanley and his crew had been taken prisoners soon after leaving, and he at once sent off fifty soldiers to effect his release, who found the report false. They had also heard of his fight with the Wamma, and that he was killed. In the meantime a conspiracy had been formed by three neighboring tribes to capture the camp and seize all the goods. It was discovered, and everything put in the best state possible to defeat it, when the whole fell through on account of the sudden death of one of the conspirators and the disaffection of another.
With the report of Stanley's death uncontradicted—nay, corroborated by his long absence—and in view of the dangers surrounding them, the soldiers and men held a meeting to determine what course they should take. He had then been gone nearly a month and a half, and it should not have taken more than half that time to have circumnavigated the lake with a boat that, in a fair breeze, could go five or six miles an hour.
Something must have happened to him; that was certain; and it mattered little whether it was death or captivity. It was finally decided to wait fifteen days longer, or till the new moon, when, if he did not appear, they would strike camp and march back to Unyanyembe. The fifteen days would have expired the next day after Stanley's arrival. If, therefore, he had been delayed forty-eight hours longer, instead of being received with the waving of flags, shouts and volleys of musketry, and wild demonstrations of delight, there would have been no welcome, but a silent, deserted camp. This would have been a terrible blow, and would have dashed with the bitterest disappointment all the joy at his task successfully accomplished. But he had been saved all this; still one calamity had befallen him for which there was no remedy; young Barker had died only a few days before his arrival, and six of his strong men had fallen victims to dysentery and fever. Thus while in all the danger through which he had passed on the lake he had not lost a man, seven had died while lying idly in a healthy camp. The death of Barker he felt keenly, for of the three white men who had started with him, two had already fallen, and now only one was left.
In writing to his mother, announcing his death, and expressing his sympathy with her in her affliction, he thus speaks of the manner in which it occurred: "I was absent on an exploring expedition on Lake Victoria, having left Francis Pocoke and Frederick Barker in charge of my camp. Altogether I was absent fifty-eight days. When I returned, hoping that I would find that all had gone well, I was struck with the grievous news that your son had died twelve days before, of an intermittent fever. What little I have been able to learn of your son's death, amounts to this: On April 22d, he went out on the lake with Pocoke to shoot hippopotami, and all day enjoyed himself. On the morning of the 23d he went out for a little walk, had his tea and some pancakes, washed himself, and then suddenly said he felt ill, and lay down in bed. He called for a hot stone to be put to his feet; brandy was given him, blankets were heaped on him, but he felt such cold in his extremities that nothing availed to restore heat in his body. His blood seems to have become congealed. At eight o'clock, an hour after he lay down, he was dead. Such is what I have been able to glean from Pocoke of the manner of his death. But by our next letter-carrier, Pocoke shall send you a complete account." He then goes on to speak of his excellent qualities and promising future, and his own great loss.
One of the curious things that struck Stanley as he looked on his party, was the strange contrast between Pocoke's face and his own. The former being most of the time in camp, had bleached to his old English whiteness, while, under the reflection of the fierce rays of an equatorial sun, he had been burned till his face was the color of a lobster—in fact, the natives had come to call him, not the pale, but the red-faced man, to which his blood-shot eyes gave a still more sanguinary appearance.
Now followed a season of rest and of sweet repose; and how deep and sweet it was, may be gathered from his own language. He says: "Sweet is the Sabbath day to the toil-worn laborer, happy is the long sea-tossed mariner on his arrival in port, and sweet were the days of calm rest we enjoyed after our troublous exploration of the Nyanza. The brusque storms, the continued rains, the cheerless gray clouds, the wild waves, the loneliness of the islands, the inhospitality of the natives that were like mere phases of a dream, were now but the reminiscences of the memory, so little did we heed what was past while enjoying the luxury of a rest from our toils. Still it added to our pleasure to be able to conjure up in the mind the varied incidents of the long lake journey; they served to enliven and employ the mind while the body enjoyed repose, like condiments quickening digestion. It was a pleasure to be able to map at will, in the mind, so many countries newly discovered, such a noble extent of fresh water explored for the first time. As the memory flew over the lengthy track of exploration, how fondly it dwelt on the many picturesque bays, margined by water-lilies and lotus plants, or by the green walls of the slender reed-like papyrus, inclosing an area of water, whose face was as calm as a mirror, because lofty mountain ridges almost surround it. With what kindly recognition it roved over the little green island in whose snug haven our boat had lain securely at anchor, when the rude tempest without churned the face of the Nyanza into a foaming sheet." The lofty rocks once more rose before him in imagination, while the distant hills were outlined against the fervid horizon, and the rich grain fields of some of the districts smiled in the sun. But his memory dwelt with fondest recollection on Uganda and its hospitable King Mtesa, for there, it not only recalled the present, but pictured a glorious future, in which smiling villages took the places of rude huts, from the midst of which church spires rose, and the clear tones of the bell called the dusky inhabitants to the place of worship. As he thus lay dreaming, close by the equatorial circle, he saw the land smiling in affluence and plenty; its bays crowded with the dark hulls of trading vessels, heard the sound of craftsmen at their work, the roar of manufactories and foundries, and the ever-buzzing noise of industry.
With these bright anticipations of the future, the happy result of his endeavors, would mingle his desperate encounters with the savages, his narrow escapes, his nights of danger on the tempestuous lake, his wonderful success so near a failure at last—of all these marvelous experiences and events crowded on him as he lay and rested, and dreamed on the shores of the lake that he felt to be his own. If half that he anticipated, as he lay and rested and dreamed, turns out true, his name will be linked with changes that will sink all his great discoveries into nothingness—moral changes and achievements as much above mere material success as mind is above matter—civilization above barbarism—Christianity above Paganism.
This successful voyage and safe return inspired the members of the expedition with renewed confidence in their leader, and Stanley soon set about prosecuting the great work to which he had devoted himself, and which, with all its toils and dangers and great sacrifice of life, had only just begun.
The Grand Admiral Magassa had not yet joined him. There was no reason he had not done so, except that the fight at Bumbireh and subsequent storm on the lake had sent them wide apart. But he had two of Stanley's best men with him, who would direct him to the camp in Speke Bay, toward which he knew Stanley was working, and where he should have been before this time. The latter waited nine days in camp for him, and then concluding that he did not intend to come at all, resolved to march back overland with his party (as he had no canoes to carry them by water) to Uganda. Just as they were ready to start, there came into camp a negro embassy from Ruoma, which lay between him and Ugondo on the land route, with the following message: "Ruoma sends salaams to the white man. He does not want the white man's cloth, beads or wire, but the white man must not pass through his country. Ruoma does not want to see him or any other man with long red hair down to his shoulders, white face and big red eyes. Ruoma is not afraid of him, but if the white man will come near his country, Ruoma and Mirambo will fight him."
"Here, indeed," as Stanley says, "was a dilemma." Mtesa's admiral had proved false to the instructions given him by the king, and no boats had arrived to convey his party to Uganda by water, and now the ruler of the district through which he must pass to reach it by land forbade him to cross it. To force a passage was impossible; for Ruoma, besides having a hundred and fifty muskets and several thousand spearmen and bowmen, had the dreaded Mirambo, with his fierce warriors, within a day's march of him and ready to aid him. Even if he could fight his way across the country, it would be at a sacrifice of life that he could not afford, and which the results he hoped to secure would not justify. Still, he could not give up Uganda, with its half-civilized king, for it was not only the most interesting country that bordered on the lake, but it comprised the unknown region lying between it and Tanganika. If he could only get canoes from some other quarter, he could take his party to Uganda by water; and once there, his friend Mtesa would give him all the aid he wanted. He therefore set on foot inquiries respecting the various tribes bordering on the gulf on which he was encamped, to ascertain the number of canoes each possessed. He found that the king of Ukerewe, the large island lying at the mouth of the gulf, was the most likely person to have the canoes he wanted, and he applied to him. But he was unable to negotiate for them in person, as he was taken suddenly and seriously ill—the result of his long exposure on the lake under an equatorial sun—so he sent Pocoke, with Prince Kaduma, to make proposals for them. These, taking a handsome present for the king, departed. In twelve days they returned with fifty canoes and some three hundred natives under the command of the king's brother; but to convey him and his party to the king, not to Uganda.
Stanley's joy at the sight of the canoes was dampened by this request, and he told the king's brother that even if the king would give all his land and cattle, he would not let the expedition go to Ukerewe, but that he himself would go, and the messenger himself might return as soon as he pleased. As soon as he was well enough he set out, and on the second day he reached the island. Knowing how much was at stake, he put on his court costume, which meant the best clothes in his wardrobe, and equipped himself with his best arms, while his attendants bore valuable presents.
The next day after his arrival was fixed for the great audience. When the hour arrived Stanley mustered the crew of the Lady Alice, who had been dressed for the occasion, and the bugle sounded the order to march. In ten minutes they came to a level stretch of ground, in the centre of which was a knoll, where the king was seated in state, surrounded by hundreds of bowmen and spearmen. He was a young man, with a color tending more to the mulatto than the negro—possessing an amiable countenance, and altogether he made a favorable impression on Stanley. He was quite a conspicuous object sitting on that knoll in the midst of warriors, for he was wrapped in a robe of red and yellow silk damask cloth. His reception of Stanley consisted in a long, steady stare, but being informed that the latter wished to state the object of his visit to him and a few of his chiefs alone, he stepped aside a short distance to a pile of stones, and invited them to join him. Stanley then stated what he wanted, how far he wished the canoes to go, what he would pay for them, etc., etc. The king listened attentively, and replied in a kind and affable manner; but he said his canoes were many of them rotten and unfit for a long voyage, and he was afraid they would give out, and then he would be blamed and accused of being the cause of the loss of his property. Stanley replied that he might blame the canoes, but not him. At the close of the conference, the king said he should have as many canoes as he wanted, but he must remain a few days and partake of his hospitality. This was given in no stinted measure, for beeves, and goats, and chickens, and milk, and eggs, and bananas, and plantains were furnished in prodigal quantities, together with native beer for the crew. They luxuriated in abundance, and on the fifteenth day the king came to Stanley's tent with his chief counselor, and gave him his secret instructions and advice. He said he had ordered fifty canoes to carry him as far as Usukuma, Stanley's camp, but his people would not be willing to go to Uganda. He, therefore, had resorted to stratagem, and caused it to be reported that Stanley was going to come and live among them. He said that the latter must encourage this report, and when he got to Usukuma, and the canoes were drawn up on shore he must seize them and secure the paddles. Having thus rendered it impossible for them to return, he was to inform them what he intended to do.
Stanley having promised to obey his instructions implicitly, the king sent with him his prime minister and two favorites, and he departed, after leaving behind him a handsome present as an earnest of what he would do in the future. The natives bent to their paddles cheerfully, and at length reached Stanley's camp; but instead of fifty, he found there but twenty-three canoes. Though disappointed, he was compelled to be content with these.
He accordingly whispered his orders to the captains of his expedition to muster their men and seize the canoes and paddles. This was done, and the canoes were drawn up far on land. The astonished natives inquired the meaning of this, and when told, flew into a furious passion, and being about equal in number to Stanley's party, showed fight. The latter saw at a glance that any attempt to mollify them by talk would be fruitless, and that energetic, prompt measures alone would answer, and he immediately ordered the bugle to sound the rally. The soldiers stepped quickly into line, when he ordered a charge with the muzzles of their guns, and the astonished, duped creatures were driven out of camp and away from the shore. Stanley then held a parley with them and proposed to send them back, and did, or at least a portion of them, in four canoes, which could return and take off the rest. The other canoes he kept, and on the third day started for Uganda with a portion of the expedition, and at the end of five days arrived at Refuge Island. Remembering when he was there before, that the inhabitants of the mainland, which was not more than six miles off, were not kindly disposed toward him, he built a strong camp among the rocks, locating it so that each high rock could furnish a position for sharp-shooters, and in every way he could, rendered it impregnable, in case it should be attacked during his absence.
As he had not been able to embark all his expedition and baggage, he now returned for them, reaching his old camp again after an absence of fifteen days. He learned on his arrival that two neighboring chiefs were planning to seize him and make him pay a heavy ransom. He, however, said nothing; spoke pleasantly every day to one of them—Prince Kaduma, and made presents to his pretty wife, and went on loading his canoes. When the day of embarkation arrived, the two chiefs, with a strong force came to the water's edge and looked on moodily. Stanley appeared not to notice it, but laughed and talked pleasantly, and proceeding leisurely to the Lady Alice, ordered the boats crew to shove her off. When a short distance was reached, he halted, and swinging broadside on shore, showed a row of deadly guns in point-blank range of the shore. Taken completely aback by this sudden movement, and not daring to make a hostile demonstration with those guns covering them, the treacherous chiefs let the process of embarkation go on without molestation, and soon the last canoe was afloat and a final good-bye given to the camp, a scornful farewell waved to the disappointed natives on shore, and the little fleet steered for Refuge Island. Rough weather followed, and the rotten canoes gave out one after another, so that he had only fifteen when he reached the island. He found the camp had not been disturbed in his absence. On the contrary, the neighboring kings and chiefs, seeing that his camp was impregnable, had proffered their friendship and supplied the soldiers with provisions. They also provided him with a guide and sold him three canoes.