Stanley's Adventures in the Wilds of Africa / A Graphic Account of the Several Expeditions of Henry M. Stanley into the Heart of the Dark Continent

by Joel Tyler Headley; Willis Fletcher Johnson

The whole had been a strange proceeding, and why he was not killed, when so completely in their power, can be accounted for only on the ground that they were in Mtesa's dominions, and feared he would take terrible revenge for the murder. Later in the day this drunken chief came to visit him on the island, and demanded why he had come and what he wanted. Being told, he went away, and sent three branches of bananas, and left him and his party to their fate. They rested here quietly till afternoon, when they saw Magassa's fleet coming slowly down the lake, steering for a neighboring island. The canoes were beached and the men disembarked and began to prepare their camp for the night. Stanley was getting impatient at these delays, and thinking he would quicken Magassa's movements by hastening forward, he set sail for Alice Island, thirty-five miles distant. The two chiefs, with the escorting canoes, accompanied him for about a mile and a half, but, getting alarmed at the aspect of the weather, turned back, shouting, as they did so, that as soon as it moderated they would follow. Bowling along before a spanking breeze, the little craft danced gayly over the cresting waves, and when night came down and darkness fell on the lonely lake, kept steadily on and, finally, at midnight reached the island, where they luckily struck upon a sheltered cove and came to anchor. When morning dawned they found they were almost against the base of a beetling cliff, with overhanging rocks all around them, dotted with the fires of the natives. These came down to the shore holding green wisps of grass in their hands as tokens of friendliness. Stanley and his men were hungry, and now rejoiced in the prospect of a good breakfast. But these friendly natives, seeing their need, became so extortionate in their demands that they would not trade with them, and Stanley determined to steer for Bumbirch Island, twenty five miles distant, and there obtain food.

The breeze was light and they made slow headway, and it was evidently going to be a long sail to the island. As the sun went down, huge black clouds began to roll up the sky, traversed by lightning, while the low growl of thunder foretold a coming storm. As the clouds rose higher and higher the lightning became more vivid, and the thunder broke with startling peals along the water, and soon the rain came down in torrents, drenching them to the skin. The waves began to rise while darkness, black as midnight, settled down on the lake. The little craft tossed wildly on the water, and the prospect before them looked gloomy enough. Fortunately, about midnight, they came upon Pocoke Island, and anchored under its lee amid thunder and lightning, and rain, and the angry roar of the surf on every side. All night long the flashes lit up the angry scene, while the heavy, tropical thunder shook the bosom of the lake. The haven they had reached was so poor a protection that all hands were kept bailing, to prevent the overstrained boat from foundering at her anchor.

We have a very faint idea in our northern latitudes of what a thunderstorm is in the tropics, and the slight affair that Stanley made of it is one of those apparently insignificant, and yet most striking illustrations of his character. Storms on the water—starvation on land—deadly perils of all kinds are spoken of by him as one would speak of the ordinary incidents of travel. He has no time, and apparently no taste, for sensational writing; or perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say—in his cool courage, calm self-reliance and apparent contempt of death he does not see the dramatic side of the scenes in which he performs so important a part. The most tragic events—the most perilous crises are treated by him as ordinary events. An escape so narrow that one's heart stops beating as he contemplates it, he narrates with as much coolness and apparent indifference as he would his deliverance from a disagreeable companion.

In the morning, Stanley, as he looked around him and saw the surf breaking on every side, ordered the anchor up and the sail hoisted, for this was too dangerous a place for the Lady Alice. The thunder-storm had passed, and a stiff northeast breeze had sprung up, before which he bowled swiftly along, and in three hours reached the mouth of a quiet cove near the village of Kajuri, at the southeastern extremity of Bumbirch Island. After the storm and peril of the last forty-eight hours, it was a welcome sight that greeted them. The green slopes of this gem set in the sparkling waters were laden with fruits and covered with cattle. Groves of bananas, herds of cattle lazily feeding, and flocks of goats promised an abundance of food; and Stanley and his men, as they drew near the lovely, inviting shore, revelled in anticipation of the rest and good cheer awaiting them. Filled with the most peaceful intentions themselves—their hearts made glad at the sight of the bountiful provisions before them—they did not dream of any hostility, when suddenly they heard a wild, shrill war-cry from the plateau above the huts of the village near the shore, on which were gathered a crowd of excited men. Stanley was surprised at this unexpected hostile demonstration, and halted just as the boat was about to ground, to ascertain what it meant. The savages in the meantime were rushing wildly toward the shore in front of where the boat lay rocking on the water. As they approached, they suddenly changed their warlike attitude, and, ceasing their loud yells, assumed a friendly manner, and invited them to land in tones and gestures so kind and affable that Stanley's first suspicions were at once disarmed, and he ordered the rowers to send the boat ashore. But the moment the keel grated on the pebbly beach, all this friendliness of manner changed, and the naked savages rushed into the water, and, seizing the boat, lifted it up bodily and, with all on board, carried it high and dry on the bank.

A TREACHEROUS ASSAULT.

Stanley was terribly aroused at this sudden treachery, and reckless of consequences, determined to avenge it, and twice he raised his revolver to shoot down the audacious wretches, but his crew begged him to desist, declaring earnestly that these people were friends, and that if he would wait a few minutes, he would see that all was right. He accordingly sat down in the stern sheets and waited to see the end. In the meantime, the savages came leaping from the hill-sides, tossing their naked limbs in the air, and uttering loud yells, till a wild, frantic multitude completely surrounded the boat in which Stanley still sat unmoved and calm. The wretches seemed crazed with passion, and poised their spears as if about to strike him, and drew their arrows to the head, one discharge of which would have riddled Stanley, struck the boat by his side with their spear handles, gnashed their teeth, foamed at the mouth, and yelled till their eyes seemed bursting from their sockets. Stanley, however, never moved nor uttered a word. His life did not seem worth a thought in that frenzied, demoniacal crowd. But resistance and expostulation were alike useless, and he could do nothing but wait the final assault, and then sell his life dearly as possible.

For some strange, unaccountable reason, their chief, Thekha, kept them from the last act of violence, and at last so quieted them that Stanley calmly asked him how much he demanded to let him go. The most curious part of this whole affair is, that the chief condescended to enter into negotiations with Stanley. Everything the latter had was in the boat, and he had only to give the word, and in five minutes all was his. But instead of doing this, he struck up a bargain with Stanley, and agreed to let him off for four cloths and ten necklaces of large beads. Stanley at once took them from his packages and gave them to him. But no sooner had he received them, than he gave a quick order to his men to seize the oars of the boat. In a twinkling, before Stanley had time to think what they were about, the oars were caught up and carried away. The natives seeing through the treacherous trick, enjoyed it thoroughly, and their loud laughing jeers roused all the devil in Stanley's nature, but he still said nothing. Having got possession of the oars, they thought he was helpless as a tortoise on his back, and became quiet, seemingly enjoying the white man's helplessness. Having no fear of his escape, they at noon leisurely walked to their huts to get their noonday meal, and to discuss what the next move should be. Stanley says he was not idle, he wished to impose on the savages by his indifferent manner, but he was all the while planning how to escape and the best mode of meeting the attack when it came.

While the savages were at their dinner, a negress came near them and told them to eat honey with Thekha, as it was the only way to save their lives, for he had determined to kill them and take everything they had. Stanley permitted his coxswain to go to Thekha and make the proposition to eat honey. The wily chief told him to be at ease, no harm was intended them and next day he would eat honey with them. The coxswain returned delighted, and reported the good news. But Stanley checked the confidence of the men, and told them that nothing but their own wit and courage could save their lives. This, he said, was all a trick, the next move would be to seize their guns as they had the oars, when they would be helpless, and by no means to leave the boat, but be prepared to act at any moment when he should give the word. The men saw at once the force of Stanley's suspicions, and kept close by him.