SCENE IN CAMP AT NYANGWE.
To all these Stanley agreed, except the one promising, if he concluded to go on at the end of the sixty marches, to give him two-thirds of the men of the expedition to see him safely back. On this article of agreement there was a hitch, and Stanley showed his Yankee education, if not Yankee birth, by putting in a last article, by which, if Tipo-tipo through cowardice should fail to complete his sixty marches, he should forfeit his $5,000, and have no escort for his return. Stanley then gave him time to think of it, while he went to see young Pocoke and confer with him. They went over the whole ground together, and Stanley told him it was a matter of life and death with both of them; failure would be certain and perhaps horrible death; success would be honor and glory. It was a fearful picture he drew of the possible future, but Frank's ready response was, "go on."
At this point Stanley reveals one of his strongest characteristics, which we mentioned in the sketch of him at the beginning of the book—the Napoleonic quality of relying on himself. Ordinary well-established principles and rules often condemned the action of Bonaparte—results approved them. So ordinary prudence would have turned Stanley back as it did Cameron—the stories told him of the character of the tribes in advance—the obstacles he would have to encounter, all the mystery, perils and uncertainty of the future—the universal warning and fearful prognostications of those who were supposed to know best—his isolated condition in the heart of Africa—all things that could surround a man to deter him in his actions, were gathered there around that lonely man at that outpost of civilized enterprise; yet, falling back on himself, rising superior to all outward influences, gauging all the probabilities and possibilities by his own clear perceptions and indomitable will, he determined to push forward. If he could not get canoes, which he feared he could not any more than Cameron, then he would try to follow the river by land; if that failed, he would make canoes in the African forest; if he could not go peaceably, he would fight his way, and not turn back till deserted by his own men and left alone in the midst of a savage, hostile people. This determination, under the circumstances, shows him to be no ordinary character, and marks him as one who in a revolution would control the stormy elements around him and mount to power or to the scaffold.
There were also minor obstacles attending this desperate effort to trace the Lualaba to the sea. He had thirteen women in his expedition, wives of his chief Arabs, some of them with young children, others in various stages of pregnancy, who would be delivered of children before they reached the Atlantic coast, and under what circumstances the hour of travail might come no one knew. It might be in the hour of battle, or in the desperate race for life, when one hour's delay would be total ruin to the expedition and death to all. It might be in the struggle and fight around a cataract, or in the day of extreme famine. A thousand things had to be taken into consideration before resolving on this desperate movement. But no matter, the obstacles might even be more formidable than represented, the risk tenfold greater, his mind was made up—the secrets of that mysterious river he would unlock, or his last struggles and mysterious fate would add one more to the secrets it held.
At length the contract with Tipo-tipo to escort him sixty marches was made and signed, and then Stanley informed his own men of it, and told them that if at the end of that time they came across a caravan bound for the west coast, part would join it, and the rest might, if they wished, return to Nyangwe. They agreed to stand by the contract and Stanley moved forward into Nyangwe. Here Stanley was received by one of the two Arab chiefs that bear sway in the place, with becoming courtesy. He seemed surprised at the orderly, quiet march of this force, and still more when told that the distance from Tanganika, some three hundred and forty miles, had been made in about forty days.
Stanley describes minutely the place and its political management, but seems, like Livingstone and Cameron, to be particularly struck with its market. This is held every fourth day, and from one to three thousand people assemble to trade; most of the vendors are women, and the animated manner in which trade is carried on amused Livingstone exceedingly. Though he could not understand their language he could interpret their gestures, which were very expressive. This pleasant scene, however, was marred one day by a messenger stalking into the market with ten jawbones of men tied to a string and hanging over his shoulder, he boasting of having killed and eaten these men and describing with his knife how he cut them up.
Early in the morning of the market-day the river, as far as its course can be seen, presents a lively appearance. It is covered with canoes loaded to their gunwales with natives and articles for the market piled on each other, and they all press toward one point. Amid the laughter and jargon of the natives, may be heard the crowing of cocks, and squealing of pigs and the bleating of goats. Having reached the landing-place, the men quietly shoulder their paddles and walk up the bank, leaving the women to carry the articles up to the market-place. These are placed in large baskets and slung on their backs by a strap across their foreheads. When this great crowd of two or three thousand are assembled the babel begins. But the talking and chaffering are done by the women; the men move about paying but little attention to the bartering, unless something important, as the sale of a slave, is going on. The women do not walk about, but having selected a spot where they propose to do business, they let down the basket, and spreading the articles on the ground so as to appear to the best advantage, they squat themselves in the basket, where they look like some huge shell-fish.
The vendors being thus stationary, the buyers also become so, and hence it is always a close, jammed mass of human beings, screaming, sweating and sending forth no pleasant odor, for three or four hours. They do not break up gradually, but on the movement of some important person a general scramble will commence, and in twenty minutes the whole two thousand or more will be scattered in every direction. The markets of this region are held on neutral ground by the various tribes, and their feuds are laid aside for that day. Except at Nyangwe, uninhabited spots are selected. The neighboring chiefs are always present, and can be seen lounging lazily about. Stanley counted fifty-seven different articles for sale, ranging from sweet potatoes to beautiful girls, while the currency was shells, beads, copper and brass wire and palm cloth.
There are two foreign chiefs at the place, who are very jealous of each other, as each wished to be regarded by the natives as the most powerful. Sheikh Abed, a tall, thin old man with a white beard, occupies the southern section of the town, and Muini Dugumbi the other. It has not long been an Arab trading post, for Dugumbi is the first Arab that came here, and that was no later than 1868, and pitched his quarters, and now the huts of his friends, with their families and slaves, number some three hundred. He is an Arab trader from the east coast, and soon after his arrival he established a harem, composed of more than three hundred slave women. Though a rollicking, joking man himself, his followers are a reckless, freebooting set. The original inhabitants of Nyangwe were driven out by Muini Dugumbi, and now occupy portions of both sides of the river, and live by fishing, and are said to be a singular tribe. Stanley estimated there must have been forty-two thousand of them in the region previous to the coming of this Arab chief, who spread desolation on every side. There remain to-day only twenty thousand of this people.