The bargaining for permission to cross required both time and patience; and when it was all concluded I thought that certainly we should find some decent sort of craft provided to transport us and our belongings to the farther bank. It was about an hour after sunrise when we arrived at the banks of the river, which were covered with dense masses of canes, and not a sign was there of the men or the canoes which had been promised and paid for. We waited while Hatibu sent messengers to press the chief to hurry his men, and sat waiting patiently for them to return on a small rise just outside the cane-swamp. Presently we saw one or two heads of men gliding down through the canes, and Hatibu shouted, “Pack up, pack up! see the canoes.”
All hands answered to his shout, and seizing their loads forced their way through the canes and mud to the edge of the river. There we found two things which might be called canoes, but were simply strips of bark eighteen or twenty feet long, with the ends pinched and sewn together, so that they formed troughs some fifteen inches wide and twelve deep. In one end (bow or stern one could not name it) stood a black fellow, who propelled his crazy craft with a long pole, punting in the shallows and paddling when he could not reach the bottom. In all my experiences I had never seen such frail and rickety craft as those now provided, and I wondered how we should get across without disaster, more especially as I was told that the river swarmed with crocodiles, and if one was capsized the chances were two to one in favour of being seized and carried off by these monsters.
A man with his load, and the ferryman, loaded the frail craft far beyond the Board of Trade regulations. I watched with anxiety the passage of some twenty men and their loads. Seeing no disaster, I summoned up courage and stepped carefully and gingerly into one; then kneeling down and leaning forward I held on to the sticks which formed an apology for a gunwale, and gave the word to shove off. The water washed against my knuckles, and even trickled over the side, and I thought nothing could have saved me from an upset; but my dusky Charon was as deft in managing the balance of his swaying vessel as a rope-dancer, and I arrived at the farther bank, thankful to be across the Malagarazi safe and sound.
As soon as I was across Hatibu told me to go on with Bilal and the men already over to a neighbouring village, where we should stay for the night. Hatibu said that now no danger or difficulty lay between us and Unyanyembe. I at once pushed on, and soon came to a large stockaded village, where huts were cleared for our reception. When I looked at the elaborate nature of its defences I felt that they betokened an unsettled country, and thought Hatibu had spoken more hopefully than he was warranted in doing.
The mutwale, or chief of the village, came to gossip and stare at the mzungu (white man). Bilal found from him that the Watuta, whom we had heard of at Ujiji, were still about, had destroyed many villages, and would doubtless have attacked this one if it had not been for the memory of having been beaten off with heavy loss some years previously. This was bad news indeed. Its truth was proved by the arrival during the afternoon and evening of fugitives from villages that had been attacked by these robbers. When night fell we could see the reflection of flames against the skies, which showed where the villages they had taken had been set on fire after their lust for murder and plunder had been satisfied. I was told that the Watuta if opposed never spare man, woman, or child, and that safety from their attacks is only to be found in flight or a successful resistance.
Hatibu and Bilal were much disturbed by this news, and though they did not doubt that the mutwale spoke the truth when he boasted of being able to resist any attack that the Watuta might make against his village fortress, they did not care to become involved in any struggle with them and lose much valuable time, and they began to consider what they should do to avoid them. The kirangosi was called into council, and he said, “The Watuta are very bad; they are wicked and hot as fire.”
“Well,” replied Hatibu, “we know that. We ask not from you what is known to all men. We want words of understanding, not words of foolishness.”
“Truly,” answered the man, “the way to Unyanyembe is short; but of what avail is it that the road is short? for the Watuta are there.”
I thought there was not much use in consulting a man who only answered in this manner, and said as much to Hatibu. He said there was another and longer road, and this man knew it; and if he made the proposal to travel by it, all would go well, but that he himself did not want to propose it, as probably he would then refuse.
After sitting for some time in silence, Hatibu said it would be no use remaining where we were, and it would be best to return to Ujiji.