The organization and start of such a party took some time, and parties of from 100 to 300 were dispatched along the road as things were ready, until, when I started with the final rear guard, we had on the road over 900 of these porters, with their headmen and petty officers, all under complete organization.
The first start of the boat-section carts was the scene of apparent disaster. The men, wild with excitement and uniting their shouts with those of onlookers, were beyond all restraint for the moment, and as they rounded a sharp turn to get out of the village of Saadani, over went the carts, one after the other, on their sides; and it was some time before I could train the men to steer more carefully or to move gently down a declivity. In time, however, the whole thing worked well. The fore compartment of the boat, going stem first, often forced its own way through masses of brush and creeper, helping to clear the way for the narrower sections, whose carts insinuated themselves through surprisingly small gaps. The men themselves were most zealous in the service, and as we emerged from lengthy stretches of jungle, ascended steep river banks, or jolted whole days over rugged stony places unharmed, we made up our minds that, these carts would "go anywhere." In twenty days we reached Upwapwa, 200 miles from the coast, and joined an advance party awaiting us; and after a few days rest and reorganization, we started once more westward.
The first village beyond, in the country of Ugogo, was thirty miles off. The first day was a comparatively easy march to a watering place, but the next two days gave us tough work. The thick, tangled, thorny scrub became quite dense, and for those two days we had to cut our way through it foot by foot. Hour after hour the twang of the sword-bayonets and the thud of the axes were almost the only sounds to be heard till the train of carts moved slowly on as the way was opened. Toward evening of the second day we followed a narrow pass along the side of a rocky river bed, stout, inflexible trunks and branches here projecting into our path. On some of these ebony bars the axes resounded as on an anvil, and they yielded only to the more patient saw. As the sun descended we began to flag, but help was at hand; for a party coming back to us from the camp ahead with food and water, we picked up strength and spirit and reached camp late in the evening.
The level plains of Ugogo, which here represent the flat, open step or terrace to which I have referred in the general description of Africa, enabled us to make a week or so of splendid and comfortable marches. Ugogo passed, there lay before us the much-dreaded wilderness, so-called, of the Magunda-Mkali, separated from Ugogo by a steep, rocky ascent, which we could only tackle one cart at a time, and we soon came to a point so rugged with broken rocks that we could proceed no further; but the sections were unlashed, the carts taken to pieces, and all handed or dragged across the difficult place and put together again beyond. Over the scrubby, rugged hill and dale of Magunda-Mkali, without inhabitants, 20 to 25 miles a day was often made; every man knew the necessity of pushing on for food and water, and the danger, from wild beasts or wandering highwaymen, of lagging in the rear.
On, on, went the novel train, through weary miles of forest, across the scorched plain, rattling over the hard sun-baked footprints of the elephant and rhinoceros; on through grassy glades where the nimble antelope bounded, scared out of our path, and the zebra and giraffe were startled by the rattling of these strange disturbers of their solitude; on still, through miles of swamp, with its croaking legions; on through scenes of surpassing beauty, bright flowers and gleaming birds and butterflies; on past the bleaching bones of other travelers waylaid or exhausted, till the sun creeps up high overhead and eager glances are cast at green spots where water once had been; on, till the pace grows slow with weariness and thirst, and still on, till it revives again as the welcome messenger from the front appears in sight with water or the camp-fires tell of food and rest.
Completing this difficult section of the journey and mounting to the beautiful forests and numerous villages of Unyamwesi, we had arrived upon the central heights of the continent, which everything around us bespoke its best part; the clearer, more healthy air, the rich land, the open forests, the numerous and industrious people, all spoke eloquently of a better and brighter state of things in the interior of Africa than on its outside.
At Urambo we elicited the pleased surprise of our friend, the famous chief Mirambo. Said Mirambo, laying his hand emphatically on one of the boat sections, "This boat and these carts are mine, and all Unyamwesi is yours." It was his way of expressing sympathy and admiration of what he considered to be a very wonderful enterprise, and we left him pondering more deeply than ever on the doings of the "white men."
The rains were now at hand and the country rich and verdant; we hastened on with all speed possible to enable us to cross the Malagarasi river before it should be too swollen. Emerging from elevated forest land to a view of the valley of the river, it appears like a vast level expanse of harmless grass, but the swift river is flowing in the bottom. The toll required by the natives being paid, we descended to the river through the thick grass. We crossed the river in tiny dug-out or bark canoes managed by the natives. One old man, a leader among these ferrymen, we had especial cause to notice; we called him "the old admiral." He wore a curious skull cap apparently made of bladder, and presented a most odd appearance. To him we paid a special fee of propitiation for the boatmen. As we proceeded down toward the river the first sign of it among the long grass was quiet shallow water on the path; this grew deeper and deeper as we walked on until we were immersed to the armpits, the grass rising avenue-like overhead. We emerged upon a small island or rising ground, and the river proper was before us. On this little eminence stood "the old admiral" superintending all. The porters and their ordinary loads all crossed in the usual way, two or three at a time in the little canoes. The two large carts, with the bow and stern compartments of the boats, were floated along the watery avenue by the buoyancy of their tank-like loads; the others came, sections and carts, separately. The fare for each load was one yard of calico, but when the carts appeared there was general astonishment among the ferrymen, who showed signs of clearing off altogether; "the old admiral" alone was unmoved; his stolid countenance showed no sign, but a deep bass growl, "Eight yards, eight yards for these!" expressed at once his nonchalance and his determination; and eight yards we had to pay. All was safely got over in a day. Two of the bark canoes were lashed together with poles across, and one section or one cart at a time laid on top, and thus all was carried across.
Obstacles which further back would have been regarded as great hindrances were now made little of; success seemed assured to all, and the men even began to rehearse their triumphal entry into Ujiji. One more difficult river, the Lusugi, we had to cross. We reached its banks, down a rocky descent, late one night in a heavy fall of rain. We waited an hour or two next morning till the river had somewhat subsided, and then commenced work. Two or three volunteers swam across with a stout rope, which was then hauled tight across the stream. The porters, holding this rope in one hand, slowly but surely made their way across. Then the carts and sections were attached to a block running on the rope, and so, carefully attended by two or three men, were floated over in safety.
Ujiji was now only a few marches ahead. The view of the lake was caught at last, a narrow strip of its waters gleaming in the sun in the distance, and next morning we slowly marched into Ujiji in a compact body. The boat was duly launched and has now been for years at work on Lake Tanganyika in the cause of civilization and Christianity.