WARRIORS AT DJABIR.
Most of the way is up a gentle incline for we are now passing over the ridge which separates the watersheds of the Ubangi and the Congo. At intervals along the road are small clearings in some of which are capitas armed with cap-guns to protect the rubber caravans from thieves. About midday we reach Kaki-kaki, a clearing in the forest in which is a mud house for the use of white men passing through and here I call a halt for we have marched about twelve or thirteen miles.
On again next morning at daybreak the path continuing through the forest, and as it is quite cold at this hour and the exercise is pleasant we march briskly only stopping to shoot occasionally. After leaving Kaki-kaki the streams flow south instead of north which shows that after fighting our way up rivers for four months we have now reached the highest point of our journey and are at length going down hill.
It is indeed a great relief to think that instead of struggling up rapids, when next we take to canoes we shall be whirled rapidly down stream. There is, however, nothing like a mountain or even a considerable hill in this part of Uele. After an hour or two the forest ends and we cross a plain covered with grass only four to six feet high on which clumps of trees and bushes are dotted about. On every side are traces of elephant, antelope and wild cattle but the sun is now high on his brilliant course and only man is foolish enough to work in the day time in Central Africa. It is indeed very hot marching for there is no shade and it is necessary to change the gun for the umbrella. In another hour we reach the string of villages constituting the territory of the Sultan of Enguetra who like the Sultan of Djabir is not a particularly good chief. His people, however, receive the porters kindly and give them bananas. Then on again under a very fierce sun until the north bank of the Likati river is reached. Here we enter a canoe and are rapidly paddled down the stream which is only about twenty yards wide, until we reach a clearing in the forest in which the Post of Enguetra is being built by Lieutenant Gaspard. In a few weeks he has constructed a fine brick house of two storeys with a large verandah looking down a natural avenue to the river.
At this time of the year—the early days of November—the Post is practically an island for the river flows on one side and on the other three water is standing in the forest to the depth of three or four feet. This is no doubt good for the rubber vines but bad for hunting. However, I determine to settle here for a week or two and hunt the forest and plains about. Next morning herefore I start at 5 a.m. in the dark and follow the guide who evidently feels the cold and steps out at a good pace. After passing through the plantation we strike into dense forest and the walking becomes very difficult. Roots of trees below, branches and vines above have to be dodged all the time and it is a relief to march along the bed of a stream even if it has two or three feet of water in it. It is impossible to see for more than a yard or two on each side through the dense undergrowth and the sun and sky are quite invisible although patches of lights show that the former is now well above the level of the tallest tree. Traces of elephant and antelope abound, the former being of small size without points worth having. After two hours we reach the plain and find the water nearly six feet deep. There is no place about to pitch a tent and it is extremely difficult marching in the forest in the night, but the only chance of an elephant is to be here an hour or two before daybreak. Indeed it is almost impossible to hunt until the water subsides and that means waiting for over a month. However there are plenty of small beasts and birds so the day was not altogether wasted.
The Congo is undoubtedly the land of exaggerations. Everything here is bigger or smaller than any where else. If the elephants are the largest in the world the insects are the smallest and Enguetra is especially favoured by their attendance. Millions of little beasts fall on one all day long. Soup might here be called hexapoda bouillon and a glass of wine in a few minutes becomes a tincture of insects. Butterflies are especially numerous and are of groat beauty. They are so lazy or sleepy that one can nearly always pick them up with one's fingers. Ducks are not agile creatures on land but here they waddle slowly up to the butterflies and as often as not catch them in their beaks.
The native is a curious mixture of simplicity and cunning He is very fond of strong alcohol but does not care much for wine. The mess boy here apparently stole some whisky and instead of filling the bottle up with water added red wine to the requisite amount. Of course the colour led to instant detection and of course he knew nothing about it, but he lurched about violently as he waited at dinner and it was obvious the new European drink was acting rather forcibly. It is very troublesome to have to lock up every bottle when travelling, yet it is absolutely necessary. There is, however, I hear a patent lock which can be fixed over the cork and is easily fastened to the bottle. This is worth remembering.
One day Chikaia slated that the Sultan of Enguetra intended to attack the Post that night and if he had done so it might have fared badly with us for we were only two white men with perhaps fifteen or twenty soldiers. However, a heavy tornado broke and perhaps the warriors refused to face the storm for nothing happened. The boys were very alarmed and did not hesitate to say so. As the relationship between the Sultan and the State was not very satisfactory the report might have been true, otherwise it might well have been idle gossip. War had then not been declared but the State soon after sent a force to occupy the district.