MR. G. H. WEST (“GEORGE”).
RHINOCEROS SHOT BY GEORGE. (See page [293].)
Of course, as I particularly wished to secure a couple of rhinoceros, there were none to be seen, though at the “Green Camp” they were usually as plentiful as could be desired. After a fruitless search, I returned to camp at midday, and then despatched half a dozen men in as many directions to look for one. The afternoon passed without result, but just as the declining sun approached the horizon two of the Wanyamwezi came in and reported a rhinoceros feeding about a mile away. Taking Barri with me, I started off in pursuit. In a quarter of an hour we got the beast’s spoor, and followed it till it led us into a belt of trees and out the other side into an open space in the bush. In the centre of this open space was a small eminence, and on the top of the eminence stood our rhino, who had evidently heard or scented us, and now stood snorting and stamping in preparation for the opening of hostilities. Taking the Martini from Barri, I worked round to one side of my quarry and took up a position in the open within forty yards. A couple of seconds later a bullet caught her—it was a female—fairly in the shoulder, but a little too far forward. Round she came and charged me, but another shot in the face caused her to change her mind. As she swerved a third bullet took her in the ribs, and she set off at a gallop, squealing like a gigantic pig. She ran for a matter of a couple of hundred yards, and then stood quite still in an attitude of profound thought; finally, she laid down as if she had resolved to sleep, as the result of her cogitation, and when I got up to her she was dead. The horns were fairly long, but badly scratched and chipped, she being evidently a very old beast. Her body was covered with the scars of numerous conflicts with others of her kind. After a struggle I succeeded in hacking off the horns with my hunting-knife, El Hakim having taken our only remaining axe away with him in the morning.
When I got back to camp, I found five men who had been sent back by El Hakim to carry any meat I might have shot. They told me that El Hakim had shot a solitary elephant they had met on the road in the morning. The next morning I started early, and, after a stiff march, reached the place at which the others had camped on the previous evening. The remains of their fires were still hot. I passed the body of the elephant on the way. It appeared to be a young bull, and the hyænas and vultures between them were making short work of the carcase. After a couple of hours’ halt I resumed the march, and after another hard tramp lasting three hours I reached the “Buffalo Camp,” tired out. George had had a slice of luck, as he had secured a very fine impalla (Æpyceros melampus) on the road. The horns were slightly over twenty-eight inches, which is, I believe, as good as it is possible to obtain.
A great disappointment awaited us here. On going to the ant-hill in which I had buried the buffalo horns, we found that, in spite of the ants, the hyænas had disinterred and utterly destroyed them. My large pair were gone, and also the other two pairs buried with them, there being nothing left beyond a few splinters of bone. The baby water-buck died in the evening, having steadfastly refused to feed since its capture, and resisting to the utmost of its power our well-meant efforts to help it.
During the next day’s march we met the men whom we had sent to M’thara four days before. To our immense satisfaction, they bore the two boxes of provisions which had occupied our thoughts for so many weary days. They were about to tell us something concerning hostile natives at M’thara, but we had motioned them away, desiring that nothing, especially bad news, should interfere with our first civilized meal, and so detract from our enjoyment. Ordering a halt, we got to work with a screw-driver while the tents were being erected. Ramathani exerted himself, and in an incredibly short time a steaming pot of oatmeal porridge awaited our attention. After two months of meat, that oatmeal tasted as never oatmeal tasted before. When it was finished, Ramathani brought us some broiled zebra collops, and with mustard, pepper, and a bottle of Worcester sauce, they made a dish fit for a monarch. There were also biscuits, jam, and a couple of tins of butter, and as a wind up, we opened a pound tin of mincemeat, and, passing the tin round, ate it with a spoon. To crown our enjoyment, a box of cigars and a bottle of vermouth were discovered, and as we inhaled the first smoke for weeks we would not have changed places with anybody.
At the conclusion of the banquet we felt sufficiently fortified to hear the news brought by our men from M’thara. They were therefore summoned and cross-questioned for over an hour. The result of the examination was even worse than we had anticipated, and sufficed to change our thoughts from the optimistic attitude they had assumed to one of most anxious and gloomy foreboding. Summed up, the situation was this. We required a large quantity of food for our journey round North and West Kenia, which is uninhabited. There was, we discovered, a famine in M’thara, as, unfortunately, the bean-crop had utterly failed for want of rain. There was, on the other hand, plenty of food in Munithu and Zura, as the famine did not extend to those districts. In the ordinary course of events we should have bought food there, but to our amazement and indignation we heard that during our absence on the Waso Nyiro both Dirito and Bei-Munithu had turned traitors, and were now bitterly hostile to us, absolutely refusing to supply us with food. Their change of front had the effect of bringing together all the other chiefs in North-East Kenia, with the single exception of N’Dominuki, and they had, in solemn conclave assembled, formed an offensive and defensive alliance against us. The reasons for this attitude were not hard to find. Our reverse in Embe, and Jamah Mahomet’s death, followed by the death of Sadi ben Heri and his companions and the capture of their guns in N’Dakura, and, lastly, the terrible massacre of the bulk of Ismail’s men on the road to Dhaicho, had occasioned a great loss of prestige, and prepared the native mind for what was to follow. During the deliberations, and while matters hung in the balance, one of our men who had deserted on the Waso Nyiro turned up, and when taxed by Bei-Munithu with being a deserter he denied it, and declared that the Wasungu were all dead, having been killed in a fight with the Burkeneji, and only a few porters had got away with their guns and some of the trade goods, and were now returning to M’thara. Some colour was lent to his story by the reappearance in Embe of the three camels belonging to El Hakim, whither they had wandered after straying from us nearly six weeks before. This was considered by Bei-Munithu to be a capital opportunity to annex the numerous loads deposited in N’Dominuki’s charge. That true friend, however, refused to entertain the suggestion, saying that he did not believe the Wasungu were dead, in spite of the deserter’s story, and the circumstantial evidence of the camels. He stated, furthermore, that he did not intend to give them up, even if the Wasungu were dead, as other white men would soon come into the country and demand an account of the loads in his charge. Bei-Munithu then formed a coalition of all the petty chiefs of North-East Kenia, for the purpose of waylaying and massacring any safaris who should in the future endeavour to enter the country, a plan to which N’Dominuki steadfastly refused to lend his aid.
From an agreement to attack our supposed surviving porters, to another agreement to attack the Wasungu themselves, should they be alive, was but a step, and an easy step at that. Bei-Munithu was evidently the moving spirit of the combination. He was reported to have said that the Wasungu’s bullets did not hurt, and as he had formerly been the friend of the Wasungu, he was supposed to speak with some authority on the subject. “Even if the Wasungu are not dead,” said this wily old reprobate, “we can just as easily take their goods when they do return. If they are dead, so much the better; and if they are not, they soon will be,” he continued; and in that case the question of the annexation of our goods would have been speedily solved. It seemed that this course was eventually decided upon by the A’kikuyu. Without a doubt things all round looked uncommonly gloomy, the only bright spot in the whole murky aspect being N’Dominuki’s unswerving fidelity. The situation required great firmness and tact in handling, as we wished to get out without further fighting, the Snider ammunition being almost exhausted. On consideration, we determined that if we were compelled to fight, we would make a good fight of it, and punish the enemy as heavily as we knew how, otherwise the next unfortunate safari coming into the district would stand a very poor chance.
An incident in connection with the strayed camels occurred at M’thara, which, while it amused us at the time, had its serious side also. When we left M’thara for the Waso Nyiro, we had left an M’Kamba porter, who had injured his leg and was unable to walk, with N’Dominuki. He retained his gun and half a dozen cartridges for protection. When the camels strayed into Embe, some of the inhabitants brought them down to N’Dominuki and offered them for sale. He recognized them as ours, and refused to have anything to do with them. Our gallant M’Kamba, however, demanded that they should be given up to him, as the Wasungu’s representative, which proposal the Wa’Embe treated with scorn. The M’Kamba thereupon brought out his rifle and fired into them, shooting one man through the thigh. The serious side of the question now obtruded itself, inasmuch as it was not an Embe man whom he had so rashly wounded, but a native of M’thara who happened to be standing near; and old N’Dominuki had to pay one of our cows and two of our sheep in order to square the injured man and his indignant friends and relatives!