FOOTNOTES:
[34] A cloth means two yards of unbleached calico.
[35] Chuma remembers part of the words of her song to be as follows:—
Kowé! kowé! n'andambwi,
M'vula léru, korolé ko okwé,
Waie, ona, kordi, mvula!
He cannot translate it as it is pure Manganja, but with the exception of the first line—which relates to a little song-bird with a beautiful note, it is a mere reiteration "rain will surely come to-day."—ED.
CHAPTER VII.
Crosses the Loangwa. Distressing march. The king-hunter. Great hunger. Christmas feast necessarily postponed. Loss of goats. Honey-hunters. A meal at last. The Babisa. The Mazitu again. Chitembo's. End of 1866. The new year. The northern brim of the great Loangwa Valley. Accident to chronometers. Meal gives out. Escape from a Cobra capella. Pushes for the Chambezé. Death of Chitané. Great pinch for food. Disastrous loss of medicine chest. Bead currency. Babisa. The Chambezé. Beaches Chitapangwa's town. Meets Arab traders from Zanzibar. Sends off letters. Chitapangwa and his people. Complications.
16th December, 1866.—We could get no food at any price on 15th, so we crossed the Loangwa, and judged it to be from seventy to a hundred yards wide: it is deep at present, and it must always be so, for some Atumboka submitted to the Mazitu, and ferried them over and back again. The river is said to rise in the north; it has alluvial banks with large forest trees along them, bottom sandy, and great sandbanks are in it like the Zambesi. No guide would come, so we went on without one. The "lazies" of the party seized the opportunity of remaining behind—wandering, as they said, though all the cross paths were marked.[36] This evening we secured the latitude 12° 40' 48" S., which would make our crossing place about 12° 45' S. Clouds prevented observations, as they usually do in the rainy season.
17 December, 1866.—We went on through a bushy country without paths, and struck the Pamazi, a river of sixty yards wide, in steep banks and in flood, and held on as well as we could through a very difficult country, the river forcing us north-west: I heard hippopotami in it. Game is abundant but wild; we shot two poku antelopes[37] here, called "tsébulas," which drew a hunter to us, who consented for meat and pay to show us a ford. He said that the Pamazi rises in a range of mountains we can now see (in general we could see no high ground during our marches for the last fortnight), we forded it, thigh deep on one side and breast deep on the other. We made only about three miles of northing, and found the people on the left bank uncivil: they would not lend a hut, so we soon put up a tent of waterproof cloth and branches.