In the Wilds of Africa

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“It does certainly in that of our friend,” I said. “They generally have a very different character bestowed on them.”

As long as the blacks remained in sight, we could see the young chief every now and then turning and casting lingering glances towards us.

We now pushed on, hoping to find some secure place where we might pass the night. We were fortunate in finding a tree with wide-spreading branches, radiating so closely from a common centre that they formed a wide and secure platform on which we could rest without fear of falling off. We climbed up as soon as we had supped, and passed the night in perfect quiet.

I need not mention the incidents of the two following days. We were cheered as we trudged on with the expectation of soon rejoining our friends.

It struck me, on the third day of our journey, as we walked on, that Natty was less inclined to speak than usual; and looking at his face, I saw that he was deadly pale. He did not complain, however. I asked him if anything was the matter. He said no; he only felt a little fatigued, and thought that he should be revived by a night’s rest. I proposed that we should stop at once; but to this he would not consent, declaring that he was well able to get on as long as daylight lasted.

The country though which we passed was similar to what I have already described. We proceeded in as direct a line as we could steer, keeping the distant hills on our right, instead of going towards them.

I proposed the following day to begin circling round more directly for them, as I hoped that we had now gone far enough south to avoid the village against which the chief and his son had warned us. I should not have hesitated, however, to have gone amongst the people, had I not feared that we might be detained by them as we had been by their neighbours.

The forest as we advanced grew thinner, and we found the trees at length standing so widely apart that we could see the plain beyond them. As the wood might afford us more shelter than the open plain, and the sun was already sinking towards the blue hills in the distance, we agreed to halt. As I saw that Natty was not able to exert himself, I bade him sit down while I cut branches to form a hut, and collected wood for a fire. As I could not tell what wild animals might be roaming about around us, I determined to make our hut sufficiently strong to resist an attack.

I selected a tree of a considerable diameter, which served as a back to the hut. I stuck the uprights in the soft ground among the roots. There were plenty of vines, with which I bound the cross-pieces to the trunk and to the uprights. The intervening spaces I filled up with light perpendicular poles. While I was gathering a further supply, I found that Natty had interwoven them with branches and vines, thus forming tolerably substantial walls. Some of the boughs thrown over the top served for a roof, which, however, would not have kept out a tropical shower; but there was no fear, we thought, of rain. Darkness was now coming rapidly on, but I had not yet a sufficient supply of wood to keep up our fire all the night; and I told Natty to make it up and light it while I went to collect more broken branches, of which there were numbers lying about, torn off probably by a hurricane. While I was engaged, I saw the fire blaze up, and hoped that Natty would have some venison roasted by the time I had finished my work. Having brought a couple of loads and placed them down by the side of the hut, I went away for a third. I had got as many branches as I could carry, and returned with them towards our encampment, expecting to hear Natty hail me as I drew near; but as I approached the fire I could not distinguish him. I called, but no answer came. My heart sank within me. I was afraid that some accident had happened. Again and again I called. Throwing down the branches, I hurried on towards the hut, when what was my grief to see him extended on the ground at the entrance, and some little way from the fire! I knelt down by his side and put my hand to his heart. It beat, though feebly. I examined him, but could find no wound. He had swooned, apparently from exhaustion. Our waterbottles were full, as we had replenished them at the last stream we passed, knowing that we might afterwards have to go many miles without finding more. His whole dress was so loose that there was no necessity to undo any part of it; but I sprinkled his face with water, and then poured a few drops down his throat. Still he lay without moving.

“Natty, my dear Natty, what has happened to you? Speak to me! Speak!” I could not help exclaiming.