On the run up to M'towa, we encountered a terrific sea, and were for several hours in imminent danger of turning turtle. The wind rushes down the narrow gulleys between the mountains that enclose the lake, and lashes the waters into a very frenzy. The arrival of these squalls is very sudden and impossible to predict; consequently, sailing on Lake Tanganyika is a most dangerous amusement. All the natives were most abominably ill, everything was wet, and the cabin and the captain formed an impossible combination.
Early in the morning the tempest subsided and we made M'towa, which is the chief Congo station on the lake. Here all the officials in the district had collected, having ignominiously fled from the rebels. One gentleman who had retired from a station further up the lake, had thrown all the station ammunition and ivory into the lake, solely on a report that the rebels were within a hundred miles. The rebels, hearing of the action, went to the place and quietly fished up both the ivory and the cartridges, thereby gaining a new lease of life. At M'towa the Belgians had built elaborate defences and had protected all the approaches with barbed wire; and in case the rebels should come they had cut down all the bananas, and were consequently short of food. There were one or two unfortunate Scandinavians in the service, who were being thrown out as pickets. One of these gentlemen came and asked us for some poison, in case he should be caught by the rebels with his totally inadequate force.
This chaotic condition has now lasted for five years, and there appears to be no man capable of grappling with the situation; it seems to me a great pity that they did not allow Commandant Henry, whom I afterwards met on the Nile, to follow up his preliminary successes against the rebels. Had he been given a free hand, in all probability the revolution would have been crushed long since.
Mr. Mohun's expedition was camped on a hill about a mile from the Government station, and they complained of most indifferent treatment at the hands of the local officials. Although they had been ready to start operations for more than six weeks, the officials had failed to provide them with any labour. It was obvious that there was much jealousy and friction between the expedition and the authorities. Fortunately, the King of the Belgians had sent Mr. Mohun a supplementary commission, which would give him the free hand necessary to the successful carrying out of his difficult task.
I was very pleased to again meet Sharp, as we had been separated for nearly three months. He was looking very ill, having only recently been laid up with fever in Ujiji. Dr. Castellote, the medical officer of Mr. Mohun's expedition, and who I am grieved to learn has recently died of fever, hearing of Sharp's sorry plight, crossed the lake and brought him over to the comparatively healthy uplands near M'towa.
Sharp had visited the station of the white Fathers on the east coast of the lake, where we had only put in to obtain wood. He told me that there was an elaborate church of brick with stained-glass windows, where he had attended service. He had been much amused at watching dirty little nigger boys from the village passing in at one door, draped in the usual filthy strip of greasy cloth, and presently emerging from another door clad in scarlet cassocks and lace tippets, waving censers, etc.
Bidding a regretful farewell to our good telegraph friends, and wishing them every luck in their venture, Sharp and I, with a mean temperature of 104°, repaired across the lake to Ujiji.
It was with feelings of curiosity that I looked out for the first time on the one historic spot in Central Africa. A few mango trees and a few white buildings scattered about on the top of the long, gently sloping shore of the lake: such was Ujiji, the meeting-place of Stanley and Livingstone, and the heart of the great slave-raiding ulcer of the past.
After considerable difficulty, we landed all our belongings by means of some unstable dug-out canoes; and having piled them on the beach, left them in charge of our boys, while we rode on donkeys, sent to us by the Greek merchant, through a gruesome array of grinning skulls that still lie scattered about the beach, the last relic of the days of Arab predominance.
We were given beds in an old mission-house which is now tenanted by two Greek traders, who, by their enterprise, richly deserve the success which they are enjoying. The old mission-house is substantially built, and is surrounded by enormous mango and guava trees.