We camped at ten o’clock in the forenoon on the bank of the river, which here flows over gigantic boulders of gneiss, and sometimes white sandstone or granite. In the afternoon we saw large herds of game a mile or so from camp, principally oryx, zebra, and grantei. They were strangely shy, and, the country being perfectly open, I found it impossible to get nearer than 800 yards to them.
The following day we were off again soon after sunrise. El Hakim shot a small grantei soon after starting. We also saw a herd of buffalo, but could not get within range, as they took alarm, plunged into the river, and, swimming across, retired to the safety of the country on the other side. We also saw some giraffe on the opposite bank, but this portion of the river was unfordable. El Hakim went out in the afternoon to try to shoot meat for the men, but could not get within range of two rhinoceros, the only animals he saw. Food for the men was getting rather a pressing question, and when we resumed the march on the following morning, George and I took a different path from that of the safari, but parallel to it, in the hope that we might see game.
During the whole march we never saw a single head, and we arrived at the place where the safari had halted, thoroughly tired and disgusted. As we got in, El Hakim had just sighted a rhinoceros, and, seizing his rifle, he mounted the mule and gave chase. The rhinoceros, however, retreated, followed at full speed by El Hakim, while George and I had an opportunity of enjoying the unique sight of a mounted rhinoceros hunt. When it came to speed, however, the rhino was an easy first, and El Hakim returned, hot, weary, and, worse still, unsuccessful.
CHAPTER X.
RETURN TO THE “GREEN CAMP.”
The “Swamp Camp”—Beautiful climate of the Waso Nyiro—Failure to obtain salt at N’gomba—Beset by midges—No signs of the Rendili—Nor of the Wandorobbo—We decide to retrace our steps—An object-lesson in rhinoceros-shooting—The Green Camp once more.
On account of the animals, El Hakim had directed that the camp should be pitched on a tongue of grass-land adjoining a large swamp. This swamp extended over an area of quite two square miles, probably more. The water, being impregnated with mineral salts, was so brackish that it was absolutely undrinkable. A hundred yards from our camping-place the Waso Nyiro foamed and tumbled past at the bottom of a deep gorge, which, in the course of countless centuries, it had cut through the solid rock (gneiss). The sides of the gorge were perfectly perpendicular. Two or three little streams, emanating from the swamp, drained over the summit, falling in clouds of spray upon the rocks a hundred feet below. There were several wild date palms (Phœnix sp.)—the only specimens I saw in the whole of North Kenia—growing at the side of the cliff; they were bearing fruit, which, however, was quite green and very small. The Swahilis name this palm “m’tende,” and the fruit “tende.” We found the side of the gorge extremely precipitous, and had to go up-stream for quite a quarter of a mile for a suitable place to descend.
The weather was glorious. It was so dry that the intense heat of the day passed almost unnoticed. The evenings I shall never forget; they were simply idyllic. As the sun set, a cool breeze sprang up; cool, yet not cold. After our frugal supper, we usually donned our pyjamas, lit cigars, and sat out in the open air, now carrying on a desultory conversation, and anon sitting silent, wrapt in contemplation of the manifold beauties of the tropical night. The atmosphere was so dry that no dew fell, and it was perfectly safe in that beautiful climate to sit out in the open air when only partially clothed. The clearness and purity of the deep blue-black of the heavens, studded with its myriads of brilliant stars, was such as I have seen only in Egypt and the Southern Seas. At such times the only sound which broke the stillness was the far-off musical roar of the Waso Nyiro, as, hurrying to its unknown destination, it tumbled over its rocky bed; or the murmur of subdued conversation from where the men sat round their fires, resting after the toil and labour of the day. As the evening advanced the animals lay down one by one, an example soon followed by the men. Presently, our cigars finished, we also would reluctantly retire, not at once to sleep, however, but instead, opening both ends of the tents to the fullest extent, to lie down and gaze out into the calm and silent majesty of the night, drinking in the beauty of the scene with its atmosphere of restfulness and peace, and requiring, for the moment, nothing further from the Author of all things.
In the morning the order of things changed somewhat. As the first signs of dawn appeared in the eastern heavens, Jumbi aroused the sleeping porters with his cry of “Haya! haya! safari! safari!” Ramathani next arose, and, blowing into a blaze the embers of yesterday’s fire, proceeded to boil the kettle for our matutinal coffee—that is, when we possessed any. A rattle of buckets outside our tent, as the boys poured fresh water into our wash-basins, roused us, and we waited with half-closed eyes for the appearance of the boy Bilali with our freshly greased boots.
Juma waited on El Hakim, and sometimes he was a little slack in the performance of his duties. George and I, quietly dressing, would hear something like this from El Hakim’s tent—
El Hakim (in a muffled voice): “Juma!”