The day after, as the river was still falling, we got the remainder of the sheep to the other side. Almost before they were across, the river commenced to rise again, and consequently we could not attempt to move the cattle or loads.
In the afternoon about seventy Wakamba, driven northwards by famine, came to the opposite bank of the river and attempted to cross over to Maranga by means of our rope. They were extremely emaciated, and so weak that three or four of the first dozen were washed away from the rope and drowned. Suddenly the Maranga who were watching them raised a shrill cry of “Ndui! Ndui!” (small-pox), and rushing at those of the Wakamba who had already landed, they drove them into the water and across the river again. It seemed hard to repulse the poor starving wretches, but the Maranga have already suffered so heavily from the small-pox that they had no wish to repeat the experience. There were quite a dozen of the Wakamba in an advanced stage of confluent small-pox. From our camp we could hear them moaning and wailing all night, for several nights. In the daytime they used to come down to the only place at which they could reach the water, a large flat rock a little way up stream, which was just awash, where they would sit for hours laving themselves with the cool water.
Three days later, on November 22nd, we found that the river had gone down some six inches, and we made a determined effort to get the loads and cattle across.
Stripping to my shirt, I swam across the river to superintend operations at the landing-place on the opposite bank, I took four or five men, and we stood in the water up to our breasts, under the bank, where the current was a little less violent, and took the loads from the porters, who were exhausted by their struggle with the powerful current, as they brought them across. Young Koranja annoyed me by bringing my camera across under water, but then he was not very tall, and consequently received a ducking every time the rope surged. If he had not had my camera, I should have been highly amused at his predicament.
The better to shout instructions across the river, I climbed a large tree that grew on the bank, its topmost branches hanging out over the water for some yards. I found such a comfortable seat in the fork, about twelve feet above the surface of the water, that I stayed there for awhile to rest after the laborious work at the landing-place, and also to get a bird’s-eye view of all that was going on.
Presently I heard some one swimming, with much puffing and blowing, down the river, and almost underneath me. Peering through the leafy screen that surrounded me, I saw that Ramathani, though evidently in mortal terror, had at last faced the river, and was swimming slowly and cautiously down stream to the landing-place. The current was bringing him directly under my perch, though he had not observed me, and I derived much amusement from the anxious expression on his usually calm and expressionless visage. As he passed underneath something suddenly impelled me to jump out of the tree, and I did so, landing with a terrific splash right upon my unfortunate servitor. He gave a fearful shriek, which was almost instantaneously stifled in a gurgle as he disappeared beneath the surface. When he came up again his face wore such a look of terror that I half repented of the joke. The way his face changed when he found me swimming quietly by his side, smiling cheerfully, was a perfect study in expression.
“Oh, it was you, Bwana?” he gasped out. “I thought it was an afreet” (devil) “or a kiboko” (hippopotamus).
I then challenged him to a race across the river, but he declined, though ordinarily he was a good swimmer. He had had enough of the water for one day, he said.
When I got down to the landing-place, I found that most of the loads were across, our men having been reinforced by some of the Maranga. These natives disdained the rope, and, strange to say, though many of them could not swim, they could carry a 60 lb. load across a ford 6 feet deep, though their own height rarely exceeded 5 feet 6 inches, and usually a great deal less. They surmounted the difficulty in a rather ingenious manner, which at the same time required no small skill.
They held the loads over their heads the full length of their arms, and then walked into the river, some little distance up-stream. When they got out of their depth they walked on the bottom, giving a jump which brought their heads above water, when they wanted to breathe. The heavy load held above their heads enabled them to keep steady, in an upright position, in the swift current. They consequently crossed the river in a series of jumps, the current meanwhile carrying them down stream, while between the jumps they walked a step or two towards the other side. It was a very curious sight from the bank to see a large box or a rolled-up tent, clasped by two black hands, apparently crossing the river of its own accord. Our own men would not attempt this method at any price.