All was now life and spirit, and notwithstanding the time of night the men began dancing and singing, heedless of the hard day’s work which lay before them. Long before daylight the canoes were loaded, and we pushed out into the lake and commenced coasting northwards towards Kawele. A fresh southerly breeze soon came up. We landed to cut down some bamboos, on which we spread mats and cloths; and so we extemporized some sails, which helped us on our way merrily. About two in the afternoon we passed the long red promontory formed by the mud brought down by the swift and turbulent Malagarazi, and could see the point behind which Kawele was situated. Though the breeze died away with the sun the men kept stoutly to their work, and when they at last ceased from pulling we were only half an hour from our goal. The only reason for not going on was the unseemliness in a caravan from dreaded Manyuema with wealth of ivory and slaves coming in with as little ceremony as a fishing-canoe. It was necessary that there should be firing of guns and beating of drums and waving of flags, and that the ivory should be carried up before all beholders to show the wealth Tipolo had gained by pushing his journeys so far afield.
As soon as the first signs of dawn appeared behind the eastern hills all were on the alert, and finery, of the existence of which I had never dreamed, was donned by all. Spears and shields from Manyuema, and trophies of our fight beyond Nyangwe, were displayed, drums were placed on poop and forecastle, and from the stem of our ship Hatibu displayed a white and red flag, on which were written quotations from the Koran. Our men wore head-dresses of zebras’ manes and buffaloes’ tails, bracelets of beads and copper were put on hands and wrists, and a liberal allowance of powder was served out to all who had the good fortune to possess muskets.
As soon as all these preparations were made we shoved off, and the whole of the men in the three canoes struck up a song of rejoicing, the only mournful faces being those of the unfortunate slaves, whose numbers by death and sale had greatly dwindled since the time we had left Nyangwe. People on shore soon heard the sound of our songs, and little knots of gazers clustered on the dwarf red cliffs, eagerly pointing out to each other the boats of Tipolo returning from Manyuema. Some rushed off to convey the news to the Arabs and the freemen, the men from “the island” and the sea, that news had come, and good news, of those who had crossed the lake and ventured into strange and distant lands.
Soon drums and horns were heard, and on coming close to shore and rounding a point we came in sight of the settlement of Kawele, with its Arab houses, and its busy market in full swing. Among the market people we could see Arabs in their white dresses making their way to the landing-place, their followers shouting and dancing, beating drums, and blowing horns. To this we answered right royally; for never did I think that such a volume of sound could be emitted from human throats as the shouts and yells to which our men gave vent as we paddled and pulled past the landing, firing our guns, beating our drums, and blowing our horns. I caught the infection and shouted with the best of them, and like a madman blazed away with a gun Hatibu had given me.
Three times did we pass up and down before the landing. We then stopped and drew up in line abreast, with our bows pointing towards the beach, and after a short pause dashed forward to it, redoubling if possible the rapidity of our fire and the noise we were making.
No sooner did the canoes touch the shore than they were seized by hundreds of willing hands and dragged up high and dry. In an instant Hatibu and his men were in the arms of their friends, who seized upon the ivory and loads to convey them to Tipolo’s house, even the women and children joining, tiny urchins of four and five begging to be allowed to carry something, no matter what, belonging to the men who had come from Manyuema.
The scene was one which it was impossible to describe. There were first of all the market-people from all parts of the shores of the lake, who in the daily market held at Kawele find a sale for their goods—fish (fresh and dried), meat, ghee, fowls, eggs, hemp from Ubwari, pottery and iron from Uvira, salt from Uvinza, ivory, and slaves—each of the tribes being distinguished by varieties in tattooing, manner of hair-dressing, and shape of their weapons. Then there were the Arabs and their followers from Zanzibar, and their Wanyamwesi porters, on this occasion suspending their buying and selling to welcome their friends who had indeed returned alive from Manyuema.
It was some hours before the ferment and turmoil caused by our arrival had calmed down, and I was feeling sad at there being no one special friend to welcome me, as even the meanest of my companions found chums and admirers to listen to the wonderful tales he had to relate; but soon I found that good fellow Hatibu had not forgotten me, for a room was cleared for me, and such a meal as even in Tipolo’s house at Nyangwe I had never dreamed of was provided for me—curry, rice, fish, beef, wheaten cakes, sweetmeats, butter, milk, coffee. If, like Jack the Giant Killer, I had been provided with a leathern wallet, or had possessed the appetites of Gargantua or Dando the oyster-eater, I could not have done justice to the meal which was spread for me. Hatibu kept on urging me to eat, saying that Kawele in Ujiji was indeed a land of plenty, and the Arabs would not be pleased unless I ate all that was sent me.
After a time Hatibu was convinced this was an impossibility, and he led me away to where the principal Arabs were assembled under the veranda of a big house to learn news of Tipolo and Manyuema, and in return to tell us what had happened since Tipolo’s brother had quitted Kawele. Every man who had gone to Manyuema was asked after by name. When told that one was dead, the response was, “It is God’s will,” and when told that one was alive, “How many slaves and how much ivory has he got?” Stories of the fight in which alone of all our party Hatibu, Bilal, and I had escaped were listened to with attention, and great was the astonishment manifested that I, a mzungu (a white man), should have survived all the difficulties and hardships I had encountered.
Hatibu and his companions had as many questions to ask about the fate of those they had left behind, and how the road was in front. The road, we heard, was good, and the people peaceful, the only trouble that had lately occurred being an attack made on a caravan by the Watuta (a predatory nomad tribe), who had been beaten off with severe loss, and would not likely give trouble again for a long time.