Some Heroes of Travel, or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise. Adams William Henry Davenport
here,’ or to the other, ‘Drink there,’ but gave to all the bright clear fountain, that all might drink.”
A tempest of fury swept over the soul of Wa-comish as he listened to these words; but he was a coward at heart, and durst not openly encounter the cooler and more courageous Shoshone. But when the latter, hot with speaking, again stooped to drink of the refreshing waters, Wa-co-mish suddenly threw himself upon him, pressed his head beneath the surface, and held it there, until his victim, suffocated, ceased to struggle, and fell forward into the spring, dead.
The murderer had satisfied his passion; but was he happy? No; as he gazed at the corpse of his victim, he was seized with a passionate sense of remorse and regret. Loathing himself for the crime he had committed, he proceeded to drag the body a few paces from the water, which, thereupon, was suddenly disturbed. The wave trembled to and fro, and bubbles, rising to the surface, escaped in hissing gas. And, as a vaporous cloud gradually rose and sank, the figure of an aged Indian was revealed to the murderer’s straining eyes, whom, by his noble countenance, his long sinewy hand, and his silvery beard, he knew to be the great Wau-kan-aga, the father of the Shoshone and Comanche nation, still remembered and revered for the good deeds and the heroic acts he had done in life.
Stretching out a war-club towards the shrinking, trembling Wa-co-mish, he said:
“Accursed of my tribe! this day hast thou snapt the link that bound together the mightiest nations of the world, while the blood of the brave Shoshone cries to the Manitou for vengeance. May the water of thy tribe be rank and bitter in their throats!” And, swinging round his ponderous war-club, he dashed out the brains of the treacherous Comanche, so that he fell headlong into the spring, which, from that day, has ever been nauseous to the taste, and an offence to thirsty lips. But at the same time, to preserve the memory of the noble Au-sa-qua, he struck a hard flint rock, higher up the rivulet, with his club, and called forth a fountain of crystal water, which, even in our own times, is the joy and the delight of men.
“Never,” says Mr. Ruxton, “never was there such a paradise for hunters as this lone and solitary spot. The shelving prairie, at the bottom of which the springs are situated, is entirely surrounded by rugged mountains, and, containing perhaps about two or three acres of excellent grass, affords a safe pasture to their animals, which would hardly care to wander from such feeding. Immediately overhead, Pike’s Peak, at an elevation of 12,000 feet above the level of the sea, towers high into the clouds; whilst from the fountain, like a granitic amphitheatre, ridge after ridge, clothed with pine and cedar, rises and meets the stupendous mass of mountains, well called ‘Rocky,’ which stretches far away north and southward, their gigantic peaks being visible above the strata of clouds which hide their rugged bases.”
But here our companionship with Mr. Ruxton ceases. His travels in the United States do not present any uncommon or remarkable feature; do not differ from those of the thousand and one sightseers who yearly cross the Atlantic, and survey the broad territories of the great Western Republic. With a small party he crossed the wide-rolling prairies to Fort Leavenworth; thence, passing the Kansas or Caro river, and entering upon a picturesque country of hill and dale, well wooded and watered, he penetrated into the valley of the Missouri. Down that noble stream he made his way to St. Louis, and afterwards traversed the prairies of Illinois to Chicago; not then, as it is now, the capital of the West, and the great corn depôt of the Mississippi States. From Chicago he crossed Lake Michigan to Kalamazoo, where he took the rail to Detroit. A Canadian steamer conveyed him to Buffalo. Thence, by rail, he travelled to Albany, and descended the majestic Hudson to New York. His home voyage was swift and prosperous, and he arrived at Liverpool in the middle of August, 1847. 7
DOCTOR BARTH,
AND CENTRAL AFRICA
I
Dr. Heinrich Barth, a native of Hamburg, and lecturer at the University of Berlin upon geography, had already had some experience of African travel, when, in 1849, he learned that Mr. James Richardson had planned an expedition from London to Central Africa, with the view of opening up the Soudan to European commerce, and substituting for the cruel slave-trade the legitimate enterprise of working the natural riches of the country. Dr. Barth obtained permission to accompany it, and with another volunteer, also a German, named Overweg, he repaired to head-quarters. The expedition was authorized and supported by the British Government. It met, therefore, with no preliminary difficulties; and we may begin our summary of its adventures at Tripoli, whence it started for the south on the 24th of March, 1850. Entering the Fezzan, it crossed the rocky and elevated plateau known as the Hammada, and through fertile wadys, or valley-basins, separated by precipitous ridges and broad wastes of sand, made its way to Mourzouk, the capital, situated in a sandy plain, where agricultural labour is possible only under the shelter of the date-palms. The town has no rich merchants, and is not so much a commercial depôt as a place of transit. For Dr. Barth and his companions it was, however, the first stage of their journey, and, indeed, their true point of departure. They made all haste, therefore, to leave it, and on the 13th of June entered upon their great undertaking. On the 25th, after an unavoidable delay, they quitted Tasua, crossed a considerable mass of sand-hills, and descended into a more agreeable district, where the heights were crowned by tamarisk trees, each height standing alone and isolated, like sentinels along the front of an army. This pleasant variety of scenery did not last long, however; they came again upon a soil as rocky as that of the Hammada, and met with an alternation of green valleys and sterile promontories, similar to that which they had explored before they reached Mourzouk.
They had reached the Wady Elaveu, a huge depression running north and south, when, at a distance of two hundred yards from their camp, they discovered a pond, forming a centre of life in that solitary region. Everybody hastened to enjoy a bath; a crowd of pintados and gangas hovered, with bright-coloured wings, above the laughing, frolicking company, waiting until they could take their places. While in this vicinity the travellers were disturbed by the conduct of some Towaregs, who had been engaged to conduct them to Selompih. Eventually, some slight change was made in the plans of the expedition, which, it was determined, should go on to Ghat, and remain there for six days; while the Towaregs, on their part, undertook to set out immediately afterwards for the Asben. Striking into the valley of Tanesof, they saw before them, revelling in the glow and gleam of the sunset, the Demons’ Mountain, or Mount Iniden; its perpendicular summit, adorned with towers and battlements, showed its white outlines vividly against a dark-blue sky. Westward, the horizon was bounded by a range of sand-hills, which the wind swept like a mighty besom, filling the air with sharp, gritty sand, and covering the entire surface of the valley.
On the following morning, their course carried them towards an enchanted mountain, which the wild legends of the natives have invested with picturesque interest. In spite of the warnings of the Towaregs, or perhaps because they had cautioned Dr. Barth not to risk his life in scaling that palace of the evil spirits, he resolved on attempting the sacrilegious enterprise. Unable to obtain guides, neither threats nor bribes prevailing over their superstitious terrors, he set out alone, in the belief that it had been formerly a place of religious worship, and that he should find there either sculptures or curious inscriptions. Unfortunately, he took with him no provisions but some biscuits and dates, and worse food cannot be imagined where there is a want of water. Crossing the sand-hills, he entered upon a bare and sterile plain, strewn with black pebbles, and studded with little mounds or hillocks of the same colour. Then he followed the bed of a torrent, its banks dotted with herbage, which offered an asylum to a couple of antelopes. Anxious for the safety of their young, the timid animals did not move at his approach. Affection inspired them with courage; they raised their heads boldly, and waved their tails. The enchanted palace seemed to recede as he advanced; finding himself in front of a dark deep ravine, he changed his course, only to find the passage barred by a precipice. Under the glare and glow of a burning sun he undauntedly pursued his way, and at last, spent with fatigue and exertion, reached the summit, which was only a few feet wide, and could boast neither of sculptures nor inscriptions.
From so lofty a watch-tower the prospect was necessarily extensive; but on surveying the plain below with anxious glance, Dr. Barth failed to detect any sign of the caravan. He was hungry and athirst; but his dates and biscuit were not eatable, and his
G. F. Ruxton, “Adventures in Mexico and the Rocky Mountains.” London, 1861.