Perhaps it is as good a place here as anywhere to correct a wrong statement that has been going the rounds of the papers, which puts Stanley in a false light. It was not pretended that King Mtesa had anything to do with this outrage, but that a tribe with which Stanley had had a fight, killing some of its number, committed it in revenge for what he did. The truth is, the mission was established by enthusiasts, and some three or four started with false views and hopes entirely. Only two of them reached the ground, one of them not being a minister. They were, however, well received, and allowed to go to work. The king, or chief of a neighboring tribe, had a daughter with whom a native fell in love. This man was repugnant to the father, and he refused to let him have his daughter for a wife. The consequence was they eloped and fled to the island on which the missionaries were stationed, and placed themselves under their protection and remained with them. The enraged savage heard of this, and doubtless believing that the missionaries had connived at the elopement—certainly harbored the fugitives against his wish—attacked the station and murdered the missionaries. How much or how little they were to blame, or, if not guilty of any wrong, how unwisely they acted, they unfortunately do not live to tell us. But Stanley's conduct in that region had nothing to do with the tragedy. It was an act of wild justice by an enraged and savage chieftain, and militates in no way against carrying out the project of Stanley.
CHAPTER XIV. EXPLORATION OF THE VICTORIA NYANZA.
Though this royal hospitality was very grateful after his long toils, and though intercourse with a white man in that remote land was refreshing, and though he longed to rest, yet Stanley felt he must be about his work. To finish this would require much time, and he had now been long absent from his men, who might prove intractable while he was away, and he was anxious to get back, for the exploration of this lake was only the beginning of what he proposed to do.
With two canoes belonging to his friend, King Mtesa, accompanying him as an escort until the grand admiral of his sable majesty, Magassa, who, with thirty canoes, had been detached for his service, should overtake him, he set sail from the river, and camped that night on a smooth, sandy beach, at a point called Kagya. The natives who lived there received them in a friendly, and for African negroes, hospitable manner. Stanley took this as a good augury of the reception he should meet with along the coast of Usongora, which he designed to explore.
In the morning he again set sail, and sweeping leisurely along, came in the afternoon to the village of Makongo. As the Lady Alice approached the shore, he saw a crowd of naked savages squatted on the ground, sucking the everlasting pombé, or beer, through a straw, just as white men suck punch or a sherry cobbler. As the boat reached the shore, the chief, with the vacant stare of a drunkard, arose and reeled toward him and welcomed him in a friendly, though maudlin manner. The natives also appeared good-natured and quite content with their arrival. After they had satisfied their curiosity by examining him and his boat, they went away, leaving him to arrange his camp for the night and prepare his supper.
The sun went down in glory beyond the purple mountains—a slight ripple dimpled the surface of the lake, while slender columns of smoke ascended here and there along the shore from the huts of the natives; and all was calm and peaceful, though wild and lonely. As night came down, and the stars, one by one, came out in the tropical sky, Stanley and his companions stretched themselves on their mats, and, unsuspicious of danger, fell asleep. About 10 o'clock he was suddenly awakened by a loud and hurried beating of drums, with ever and anon a chorus of shrieks and yells that rung through the clear, still air with a distinctness and sharpness that made the blood shiver. Stanley immediately aroused his men, and they listened, wondering what it foreboded. The lake was still below, and the heavens calm and serene above, but all around it seemed as if demons of the infernal regions were out on their orgies. Stanley thought it was the forerunner of an attack on the camp, but Mtesa's men, the Waganda, told him that the drumming and yelling were the wild welcome of the natives to a stranger. He doubted it, for he had seen too many savage tribes, and knew their customs too well to believe this blood-curdling, discordant din was a welcome to him.
It is strange that he did not at once quietly launch his boat and lie off the rest of the night a little way from the shore till morning, and see what it all meant. It would seem that ordinary prudence would have prompted this. His neglect to do so, very nearly cost him his life, and ended there his explorations. For some reason or other, which he does not give, he determined to remain where he was, contenting himself with the precaution of placing his weapons close beside him, and directing his eleven men to load their guns and put them under their mats. He lay down again, but not to sleep, for all night long the furious beat of drums and unearthly yells rang out over the lake keeping him not only awake, but anxious.
At daybreak he arose, and as he stepped out of his tent, he started as if he had seen an apparition, for in the gray light of morning, he saw five hundred naked, motionless forms, with bows, shields and spears, standing in a semicircle around him, and completely cutting him off from his boat and the lake. It was a fearful moment, and to his inquiry what it meant, no answer was given. There was no shouting or yelling, none of the frantic gesticulations so common to the African savage. On the contrary, they wore a calm and composed, though stern and determined aspect. Shoulder to shoulder like a regiment of soldiers they stood, the forest of spears above them glittering in the early light. There was nothing to be done—Stanley was entrapped, and with the first attempt to escape or seize his rifle would be transfixed by a hundred spears. It was too late to repent the folly of not heeding the warning of the night before, and so he calmly stood and faced the crowd of stern, malignant faces. For some minutes this solitary white man met glance for glance, when the drunken chief of the day before stalked into the semicircle, and with a stick which he held in his hand forced back the savages by flourishing it in their faces. He then advanced, and striking the boat a furious blow, shouted "be off," and to facilitate matters, took hold and helped launch it. Stanley was only too glad to obey him, and his heart bounded within him as he felt the keel gliding into deep water, and soon a hundred rods were between him and the savages that lined the shore. The Waganda were still on the beach, and Stanley prepared to sweep it with a murderous fire the moment they were attacked. So dense was the crowd of natives, that had he fired at that close range, he would have mowed them down with fearful slaughter. But although there was much loud wrangling and altercation, they were, at length, allowed to embark, and followed him as he sailed away toward the isle of Musua. He had learned a lesson that he did not soon forget.