With a little more hope in our heart of escaping from another difficult fix, we began again. “Did you ever know white men to come and fight without guns and swords?” was our next question.
“No,” again was their reply. This time a little more friendliness in their tone, for their fears of a fight were, like ours, passing away.
“Well,” we argued, “we are two white men without guns or soldiers, but with simply walking-sticks in our hands; and are all your men armed with spears afraid of two white men with walking-sticks? Come and put up the bridge and help us across.”
After a short consultation among themselves, some young men replaced the plank and helped us over; and the discreet distribution of a few beads, spoons, and penny looking-glasses won for us their eternal good-will.
Our return to the steamer was like a triumphal progress. The men shouted and danced in very revulsion of feeling to find it was a friendly visit and not a fight. Plank bridges were quickly rearranged, and outstretched, willing hands steadied us as we crossed them. The old and sick who had remained around the fires good humouredly chaffed those who had armed themselves for a battle that never came off. All’s well that ends well, and the people were as glad as we were that no blood had been shed and no wrong committed. They begged us very earnestly to come and live among them.
We went as far as Ngingiri on the River Luika, and then turned the nose of our steamer down-stream. Monsembe was the best centre for our work that we had seen in all the long stretch of river we had traversed above Lulanga. There we should have ample room for expansion, itineration, and out-posts along the north bank from Bungundu to Likunungu—a distance of 200 miles; we should also have the south bank in our parish from Bolombo to Bokatalaka Creek—a stretch of 80 miles; and the creek just above our proposed station site was said to communicate with the Mobangi River. We estimated the population near to Monsembe, among whom we should be able to itinerate on Sundays, at 7000, and throughout the district, lining the river, at 50,000 at the very least. Then there were the hinterland towns, whose populations were as yet unknown. It was a splendid sphere of immense possibilities. It was therefore with high hopes and undaunted hearts that my colleague and I entered upon our labours among the cannibals of Monsembe.
We returned the men we had borrowed from Bungundu. What a welcome they had on their arrival home! We had been absent so long that the folk had almost given up all hope of ever setting eyes again on their townsmen. They received a suitable reward, strutted about the town in their fine, brightly-coloured new cloths, and I suppose ever afterwards posed as widely travelled men whose words in future were to be taken on all matters relating to riverine geography, tribal marks, and other subjects. Leaving Bungundu we crossed to Lulanga and, picking up the goods we had left there in charge of a Dutch trader who treated us with much kindness and hospitality, we returned to our future home at Monsembe, which for the next fifteen years was to be the centre of our world and the scene of many joys and sorrows.
CHAPTER II
SETTLING AT MONSEMBE
Moral way of procuring land—Ground measured—Price asked—Amount accepted—Signing the agreement—Buying a house—An exorbitant price—A house for five shillings and a penny—Well-populated hut—Making ourselves comfortable—Cooking difficulties overcome—Present of two goats—Inveterate thieves—Afraid of our “books.”