CONCLUSION.

On the 9th February the Battela and the stores required for our trip arrived at Konduchi from Zanzibar, and the next day saw us rolling down the coast, with a fair fresh breeze, towards classic Kilwa, the Quiloa of De Gama, of Camoens, and of the Portuguese annalists. I shall reserve an account of this most memorable shore for a future work devoted especially to the seaboard of Zanzibar—coast and island:—in the present tale of adventure the details of a cabotage would be out of place. Suffice it to say that we lost nearly all our crew by the cholera, which, after ravaging the eastern coast of Arabia and Africa, and the islands of Zanzibar and Pemba, had almost depopulated the southern settlements on the mainland. We were unable to visit the course of the great Rufiji River, a counterpart of the Zambezi in the south, and a water-road which appears destined to become the highway of nations into Eastern equatorial Africa. No man dared to take service on board the infected vessel; the Hindu Banyans, who directed the Copal trade of the river regions aroused against us the chiefs of the interior; moreover, the stream was in flood, overflowing its banks, and its line appeared marked by heavy purple clouds, which discharged a deluge of rain. Convinced that the travelling season was finished, I turned the head of the Battela northwards, and on the 4th March, 1859, after a succession of violent squalls and pertinacious calms, we landed once more upon the island of Zanzibar.

Sick and way-worn I entered the house connected in memory with an old friend, not without a feeling of sorrow for the change—I was fated to regret it even more. The excitement of travel was succeeded by an utter depression of mind and body: even the labour of talking was too great, and I took refuge from society in a course of French novels à vingt sous la pièce.

Yet I had fallen upon stirring times: the little state, at the epoch of my return, was in the height of confusion. His Highness the Sayyid Suwayni, Suzerain of Maskat, seizing the pretext of a tribute owed to him by his cadet brother of Zanzibar, had embarked, on the 11th February, 1859, a host of Bedouin brigands upon four or five square-rigged ships and many Arab craft: with this power he was preparing a hostile visit to the island. The Baloch stations on the mainland were drained of mercenaries, and 7000 muskets, with an amount of ammunition, which rendered the town dangerous, were served out to slaves and other ruffians. Dows from Hadramaut brought down armed adventurers, who were in the market to fight for the best pay. The turbulent Harisi chiefs of Zanzibar were terrified into siding with his Highness the Sayyid Majid by the influence of H. M. consul, Captain Rigby. But the representatives of the several Christian powers could not combine to preserve the peace, and M. Ladislas Cochet, Consul de France, an uninterested spectator of the passing events, thought favourably of his Highness the Sayyid Suwayni’s claim, he believed that the people if consulted would prefer the rule of the elder brother, and he could not reconcile his conscience to the unscrupulous means—the force majeure—which his opponent brought into the field. The Harisi, therefore, with their thousands of armed retainers—in a single review I saw about 2200 of them—preserved an armed neutrality, which threatened mischief to the weaker of the rival brothers: trade was paralysed, the foreign merchants lost heavily, and no less than eighty native vessels were still at the end of the season due from Bombay and the north. To confuse confusion, several ships collecting negro “emigrants” and “free labourers,” per fas et nefas, even kidnapping them when necessary, were reported by the Arab local authorities to be anchored and to be cruising off the coast of Zanzibar.

After a fortnight of excitement and suspense, during which the wildest rumours flew through the mouths of men, it was officially reported that H. M.’s steamer Punjaub, Captain Fullerton, H.M.I.N., commanding, had, under orders received from the government of Bombay, met his Highness the Sayyid Suwayni off the eastern coast of Africa and had persuaded him to return.

Congratulations were exchanged, salutes were fired, a few Buggalows belonging to the enemy’s fleet, which was said to have been dispersed by a storm, dropped in and were duly captured, the negroes drank, sang, and danced for a consecutive week, and with the least delay armed men poured in crowded boats from the island towards their several stations on the mainland. But the blow had been struck, the commercial prosperity of Zanzibar could not be retrieved during the brief remnant of the season, and the impression that a renewal of the attempt would at no distant time ensure similar disasters seemed to be uppermost in every man’s mind.

His Highness the Sayyid Majid had honoured me with an expression of desire that I should remain until the expected hostilities might be brought to a close. I did so willingly in gratitude to a prince to whose good-will my success was mainly indebted. But the consulate was no longer what it was before. I felt myself too conversant with local politics, and too well aware of what was going on to be a pleasant companion to its new tenant. At last, on the 15th March, when concluding my accounts with Ladha Damha, the collector of customs at Zanzibar, that official requested me, with the usual mystery, to be the bearer of despatches, privately addressed by his prince, to the home government. I could easily guess what they contained. Unwilling, however, to undertake such a duty when living at the consulate, and seeing how totally opposed to official convenance such a procedure was, I frankly stated my objections to Ladha Damha, and repeated the conversation to Captain Rigby. As may be imagined, this little event did not diminish his desire to see me depart.

Still I was unwilling to leave the field of my labours while so much remained to be done. As my health appeared gradually to return under the influence of repose and comparative comfort, I would willingly have delayed at the island till the answer to an application for leave of absence, and to a request for additional funds could be received from the Government of Bombay and the Royal Geographical Society. But the evident anxiety of my host to disembarrass himself of his guest, and the nervous impatience of my companion—who could not endure the thought of losing an hour—compelled me, sorely against my wish, to abandon my intentions.

Said bin Salim, the Ras Kafilah, called twice or thrice at the consulate. I refused, however, to see him, and explained the reason to Captain Rigby. That gentleman agreed with me at the time that the Arab had been more than sufficiently rewarded by the sum advanced to him by Lieut.-Colonel Hamerton: but—perhaps he remembers the cognomen by which he was known in days of yore amongst his juvenile confrères at Addiscombe?—he has since thought proper to change his mind. The Jemadar and the Baloch attended me to the doorway of the prince’s darbar: I would not introduce them to their master or to the consul, as such introduction would have argued myself satisfied with their conduct, nor would I recommend them for promotion or reward. Ladha Damha put in a faint claim for salary due to the sons of Ramji; but when informed of the facts of the case he at once withdrew it, and I heard no more of it at Zanzibar. As regards the propriety of these severe but equitable measures, my companion was, I believe, at that time of the same opinion as myself: perhaps Captain Speke’s prospect of a return to East Africa, and of undertaking a similar exploration, have caused him since that epoch to think, and to think that he then thought, otherwise.

The report of the success of the Punjaub’s mission left me at liberty to depart. With a grateful heart I bade adieu to a prince whose kindness and personal courtesy will long dwell in my memory, and who at the parting interview had expressed a hope to see me again, and had offered me a passage homeward in one of his ships-of-war. At the time, however, a clipper-built barque, the Dragon of Salem, Captain M‘Farlane commanding, was discharging cargo in the harbour, preparatory to sailing with the S.W. monsoon for Aden. The captain consented to take us on board: Captain Rigby, however, finding his boat too crowded, was compelled to omit accompanying us—a little mark of civility not unusual in the East. His place, however, was well filled up by Seedy Mubarak Bombay, whose honest face appeared at that moment, by contrast, peculiarly attractive.

On the 22nd March, 1859, the clove-shrubs and the cocoa-trees of Zanzibar again faded from my eyes. After crossing and re-crossing three times the tedious line, we found ourselves anchored, on the 16th April, near the ill-omened black walls of the Aden crater.

The crisis of my African sufferings had taken place during my voyage upon the Tanganyika Lake: the fever, however, still clung to me like the shirt of Nessus. Mr. Apothecary Frost, of Zanzibar, had advised a temporary return to Europe: Dr. Steinhaeuser, the civil surgeon, Aden, also recommended a lengthened period of rest. I bade adieu to the coal-hole of the East on the 28th April, 1859, and in due time greeted with becoming heartiness the shores of my native land.

FINIS CORONAT OPUS!

The Elephant Rock (Ακρωτηριον Ελεφας, Periplus II. ‏راس الفيل‎), seen from fifteen miles at sea, direction S.W.

London, Longman & Co. Engraved by Edwd. Weller, Red Lion Square.

MAP OF THE ROUTES
between
ZANZIBAR and the GREAT LAKES
IN
EASTERN AFRICA
in 1857, 1858 & 1859,
by
R. F. Burton

[Larger map]