Stanley was now like Cortez when he burned his ships behind him—there was no returning—one and all must move on together to a common fate. All danger of desertion, for the present, was over, and he felt that the consciousness of there being no possible escape, and that one destiny awaited them all, not only bound them closer together, but would make them better fighters.
At first, on their downward march, they met a peaceful tribe, and then a hostile one which would listen to no terms, and whose reply to every request for peace was, "We don't want you; we will eat you." They, however, passed by unmolested, and swept down the river, astonished to see its banks so thickly populated. That night they encamped in a dense jungle, which was found to be the home of the hippopotamus in the dry season. Tipo-tipo had left with Stanley two cannibals that he had captured, to be used by him in conciliating the savages, as they knew their language. These tried their arts this night on the natives on the farther bank, who, no sooner espied the strangers, than they beat their drums and advanced to attack them. The cannibals talked so eloquently and plausibly to them, that the savages withdrew and left them in peace. The next morning they came to the mouth of a large river named Lowwa, one thousand yards wide, and seemingly quite deep.
On the last day of the year, they were moving quietly down stream—the heavens bright above them and the banks green beside them—when they suddenly heard the hated war-drum sound; and soon the canoes of the natives shot out from both shores, and for a moment a collision seemed inevitable; but the two cannibals shouted Sennennch! "peace," so plaintively, that they desisted and the little fleet passed on unmolested. But the next day they met other boats which advanced, their crews shouting "we will eat you," but they were easily driven off. It produced a novel sensation in Stanley to be hailed every day and ordered to give himself up for a good roast. At length they came to a peaceful tribe, from whom they obtained provisions.
Gathering such information as they could from the natives, they now continued on very quietly, when they were suddenly attacked by savages in canoes of immense size. One, eighty-five feet long, singled out the Lady Alice and made for it. The crew of the latter waited till it came within fifty feet, and then, pouring in a deadly volley, made a dash to run it down. The frightened crew, just before the collision, jumped overboard, leaving the big boat in the hands of Stanley.
Keeping on, after this little fight, they passed small tributaries, and at length heard the roar of a cataract below. But while they were listening to the unwelcome sound, there suddenly rose over it the wild, shrill war-cries of the savages from both sides of the river. There was no escape for the expedition now—they must turn and fight. Dropping their stone anchors near the bank, they poured in their volleys, but, not being able to dislodge this new foe, they pulled up their anchors and rowed up stream where Stanley divided his forces, and while one attracted the attention of the enemy in front, the other landed, and marching across the land, took them in the rear. As soon as Stanley heard the first shot announcing its arrival, he landed and attacked the enemy in front and routed them, and camped for the night undisturbed.
Next morning, however, the natives appeared again in strong numbers and attacked the camp. The fight was kept up for two hours, when a sally was ordered, and they charged on the enemy, who, though giving way, kept up the fight for four or five hours more. Two of Stanley's men were killed and ten wounded. The former were thrown into the river, for Stanley had determined to bury no more men till out of the cannibal country. This defeat of the natives gave the expedition a few days' rest, so that this first of the series of "Stanley falls," as they were named, could be thoroughly explored, not only for geographical purposes, but to ascertain the best way of getting around them. He found that the falls could not be run, and that a carry around them some two miles long must be made. A path was cleared with axes, and boat and canoes were taken from the water and carried with great labor, yet safely, overland, and launched once more on the stream without accident, and anchored in a creek near its entrance into the main river. Not wishing to remain here, the order to advance was given, and soon they were again afloat on the great river. Sweeping downward they heard the roar of another cataract, and, although the war-horns were resounding on every side, they encamped on an island in the middle of the river. The hostile natives on the island, filled with terror, escaped to the mainland. In the morning Stanley explored the island, and found it contained five villages, all now deserted, and in them was such a variety of implements as showed that the inhabitants were adepts in the manufacture of all kinds of iron tools.
The river was full of islands, winding among which, day after day, Stanley often found to be the only means of escape from the pertinacious cannibals. These islands presented a beautiful appearance with their luxuriant foliage, but while the eye was resting on loveliness, the ear would be saluted with the sound of war-drums and hideous shouts. Whenever Stanley landed and visited a village from which the inhabitants had fled, he would see human bones scattered around, flung aside like oyster-shells, after the meat was removed, and at times the whole expedition felt as if they were destined to make a grand luncheon for these ferocious man-eaters.
The next day Stanley began to make preparations to get around the falls. The first thing was to clear himself of the savages that crowded the left bank and were ready to pounce on him any moment. So taking thirty-six men he led them through the bushes and drove the natives back to their villages, a mile distant, and after a desperate struggle he drove them out of these. He next cut a narrow path, three miles long, around the cataract. This was slow work, and as haste was imperative the men were kept at work all night, flaming torches lighting up the way and making the gloomy shadows of the strange forest deeper still. Camps were distributed at short intervals along the route, and to the first of these the canoes were carried before daylight. The savages made a rush on them but were driven back. At night another stretch of path was made, to which the canoes and baggage were hurried before the cannibals were astir in the morning. There was less hostility and the work went steadily on, and at last, after seventy-eight hours of unceasing labor and almost constant fighting the river was again reached and the boats launched.
