The Country of the Dwarfs

by Paul B. Du Chaillu

The breeze was stiff, and carried the Mentor swiftly away from the shore as we paddled toward the breakers. I turned my head back now and then to have a look at the dear little schooner.

We passed safely through the breakers, and after landing I seated myself to look for the last time at the vessel as she glided away; fainter and fainter became the sails, till finally I could see nothing but the horizon.

I tore myself from the shore. How sad I was that evening! "How long," thought I, "shall I have to wait for a vessel to come to me? Oh dear, I hope the Messrs. Baring will send me one, with scientific instruments; then I shall start on that long journey to the Nile, from which, perhaps, I shall never come back. Never mind," said I, "friend Paul, try your best. If you do not succeed, it is no disgrace."

I lay down to sleep sad and dejected indeed. That night I dreamed of my departed mother and father. I dreamed of dear friends—of girls and boys, the companions of my school-days, that were no more—of days when I was happy and without a care. That dream was so pleasurable that it awoke me. As my eyes opened, the walls of bamboo, the queer bed, told me that I was in a wild country. I got up feeling feverish and sick at heart in my loneliness, to which I was not yet accustomed.

That day I said to myself, "Paul, several weary months will pass away before a vessel can come for you, so take courage, go hunting, visit the country round, and do the best you can to while away the time. Keep up your spirits; faint heart has never yet succeeded;" and toward evening I felt more cheerful, and chatted with my Commi men, and afterward said to myself, "How grateful I ought to be that I can feel so safe in such a wild country; that I have so many friends among the natives; and that there is not a man of them all who would dare to rob me! Surely," I reflected, "there is not a civilized country where I could be as safe; the robbers of civilization would break through these thin walls, and steal every thing I have." The next day I put into practice the resolution I had formed, and made preparations for a journey. I wanted to visit many Commi villages.

My premises were filled with goods under the care of the Commi. "Be without fear," said good old Ranpano; "every thing will be safe when you come back. Malonga, my brother, will take care of your premises as did Rikimongani." So I set out and advanced toward Cape St. Catharine, for I intended to make a visit first to my old friend King Olenga-Yombi, with whom you have become acquainted in one of my preceding volumes.

It was a fine evening when we left Plateau. We were now in the height of the rainy season, and it was so hot in the day that I thought we might sail more comfortably on the river at night. We were pretty sure to get a ducking, but I thought it was better to get wet than to have the rays of a tropical sun pouring down on our heads. Malonga (Ranpano's brother) and my men had been busy making mondas to keep the rain off, and as we left the shore old Malonga said we should have clear weather. In this country, unlike South Africa, the doctors are unmakers, and not makers of rain.

The evening, indeed, was fine, and I began to think that Malonga, after all, might be right; the moon shone in an almost cloudless sky; but after the setting of the moon at 10 o'clock, a thick black cloud rose in the northeast, and we began to feel not so sure about a dry night. I was watching all the time anxiously in that northeastern direction, for I was afraid a tornado was coming. We were in the season of the tornadoes, and a constant lookout had to be kept, for it would never have done to have been caught napping. The flashes of lightning became more and more vivid as we skirted the river bank, paddling as fast as we could, and looking for a quiet little nook; and we were getting near one, when suddenly a white patch shone under the black mass in the heavens. In an instant that black mass overspread the sky; the part which a little before was blue had become black and lurid; the clouds drove from the northeast with fearful rapidity, and all above seemed to be in a blaze with lightning; the thunder pealed incessantly, and the rain poured down, as it were, by bucketsful. Our canoes were driven ashore by the force of the terrific wind, and we immediately hauled them out of water, although it was pitch dark, and we could only see each other by the glare of the lightning. Near by was a little village composed of a few huts, and we made for it, but found only a few women, and not wood enough for a fire, in consequence of which I had to remain all night wet to the skin.

The next morning the sky was clear and the sun rose beautifully, and soon after sunrise you could have heard the paddlers sing merry songs of the Commi. We ascended the river till we came to the island of Nengué Shika. Nengué, as you know, means an island; you may perhaps remember Nengué Ngozo. Shika means white, silverlike. After paddling along the shore of Nengué Shika, which was covered with palm-trees, we made for the main land, toward the banks of a little creek over which swallows were flying. It was a sweet spot, of prairie and luxuriant wood. There a shed had been built for me by our old friend King Olenga-Yombi, and many of his slaves were waiting for me with a goat, a few fowls, several bunches of bananas and plantains. The king had sent these provisions and his best wishes for good luck in my hunts, and a message that I must come and see him when I was tired of the woods.