This was on the twenty-eighth of June, 1887, and until the fifth of December, one hundred and sixty days, the expedition traversed woods and thickets without seeing a bit of grassland. For miles nothing could be seen but forests of trees of various ages and heights, with more or less thick underbrush. For the first time a hitherto unknown region was exposed to the gaze of civilized man.
The march was entirely conjectural, as it led through a hitherto untrodden and pathless wilderness and in some places it dragged along like a funeral procession. Its difficulties were increased by frequent rainstorms, which in that region are like a deluge. They are also accompanied by violent winds, which shake the countless branches so that they drench man and beast with an additional downpour and rage as if they would tear the trees up by the roots. Their fear was still further increased by terrible peals of thunder reverberating through the forest and the lightning flashes hurtling through the air and sometimes taking the form of exploding bolts.
It was a great relief when the sick and injured were at last delivered from this elemental strife which Stanley said was more dreadful than a European battle. His men seemed to be almost paralyzed by fear, suffering, sickness, loss of friends, hunger, rain, thunder, and general wretchedness. They sought shelter under banana trees, shields of the natives, woollen covers, straw mats, earthen and copper pots, saddles, tent covers, each one enveloped in a blue mist and completely overcome by speechless terror. The poor donkeys, with ears thrown back, closed eyes, and drooping heads, and the caged fowl, with their bedraggled feathers, added to the general wretchedness of appearance. Hunger, sickness, and wounds from the thorns in the woods disabled many. They were also exposed to the poisoned arrows of lurking savages. One or another of the carriers would disappear, taking his valuable pack with him. Each day some were prostrated by exhaustion, never to rise again. It was almost unendurable misery, and yet the cry was “forward, forward.”
During the days that were free from rain, an unnatural darkness prevailed in the forest. The travellers now encountered slippery tree trunks, bridging over dangerous abysses, which threatened to pierce them with the sharp points of their projecting dead branches as they rushed down hillsides upon them. Upon one of these they had to cross a rushing stream, balancing themselves upon its slippery surface. Anon they plunged into a thicket, where they were nearly suffocated by the myriads of tangled vines and bushes that coiled about them. Soon they came to a morass whose dangerous depths were concealed by floating plants and scum. At every step their difficulties so increased that Stanley at last declared they had done enough for the day and would pitch camp.
Stanley was moved with compassion as he looked upon his naked followers. Their usual ebony colored skin had changed to an ashen gray and their bones protruded so that it was a wonder how such skeletons had strength enough to go any farther. And yet he had no mercy. He forced them to go on by harsh measures, lest the expedition should prove a failure. And besides, he who remained behind was inevitably a dead man. The soil was full of decaying vegetation, the atmosphere was hot and close and filled with exhalations from myriads of decaying insects, leaves, plants, twigs, and stalks. At every step the head or neck, arms or legs were held fast by tough vines, thorns of bushes, poisonous ivies or monstrous thistles, which tore them as they sought to extricate themselves. Countless kinds of insects increased their troubles, particularly the black ants, which dropped upon them from the trees as they were passing under them. Their sting is more painful than that of the wasp or the red ant. They traverse the roads in armies, and plants and trees swarm with them. When November came, the expedition had been reduced one half in number and only two hundred men emerged from the darkness of the woods into clear daylight.
In Stanley’s account of this journey he only speaks of these small pests and is thankful that the larger animals of the African plains avoided the forests. But this is not always the case, for the wilderness abounds with elephants, buffaloes, panthers, leopards, jackals, antelopes, and gazelles. There are hippopotami and snakes in the rivers, innumerable birds in the trees, and the woods are full of monkeys of various kinds, and yet none of them came in sight of the expedition. The same was true of the natives. They often found clearings in which bananas and pisangs were planted and near by the forsaken cabins of the savages who fled from the approach of strangers. And yet it is not correct to say that there were no human beings in the forests. Behind every tree an enemy was lurking and their poisoned arrows often found victims. Stanley maintains that these savages of the forest are much more dangerous than the negroes of the open country. It is only remarkable that amidst the manifold dangers to which they were exposed, they escaped a conflict which might have been fatal to them.
The terrors of the forest at last disappeared. On the thirtieth of November the expedition reached a broad, well-kept road which led to the summit of a sightly hill. Lights could be seen. The people crowded about the slope and their questioning glances seemed to say before they could express their gratitude in words: “Is it true? Are we not deceived? Is it possible that we are at the end of those forest horrors?” They at last were convinced and a few minutes later gazed with admiration and astonishment at the picture before them.
Longingly they stretched out their arms to the beautiful country. All looked up with grateful hearts to the clear, blue sky and watched the setting of the sun as if enchanted. Then they turned and gazed at the dark forest they had just left, stretching away limitlessly to the west, and shook their fists at it. They were overcome by their sudden joy. They denounced it for its cruelty to them and their friends and compared it to hell. They mourned the death of hundreds of their companions and cursed it for its cruelty. But the great forest, stretching out like a continent, lying silently like some great animal, veiled in a blue mist, made no reply, but remained in its everlasting solitude, as unmerciful and cruel as ever.
Chapter IX
The Meeting at the Lake
As we already know, Emin was aware of Stanley’s approach from the south of the lake and sailed in that direction. But as he found no trace of the expedition there, he sent a messenger to the locality where he must come, requesting Stanley to remain where the messenger found him and he would meet him there. Stanley had still many dangers to meet after he and his people left the forest, and had several encounters with the hostile dwellers near the lake, besides being short of supplies and food. But the day came at last when the Albert Lake was at their feet, far stretching as a world sea.