The Life of Captain Sir Richard F. Burton (Vol. 1&2). Lady Isabel Burton
up with sour milk. Our Belochies instantly addressed themselves to the making of beef, which they ate with such a will that unpleasant symptoms presently declared themselves in camp. We had covered that day ten miles—equal, perhaps, to thirty in a temperate climate and a decent road. The angry blast, the groaning trees, and the lashing rain, heard from within a warm hut, affected us pleasurably, and I would not have exchanged it for the music of Verdi. We slept the sweet sleep of travellers.
"The African Traveller, in this section of the nineteenth century, is an animal overworked. Formerly, the reading public was satisfied with dry details of mere discovery; was delighted with a few latitudes and longitudes. Of late, in this, as in other pursuits, the standard has been raised. Whilst marching so many miles per diem, and watching a certain number of hours per noctem, the traveller, who is in fact his own general, adjutant, quarter-master, and executive, is expected to survey and observe—to record meteorology, hygrometry, and hypsometry—to shoot and stuff birds and beasts, to collect geological specimens, to gather political and commercial information, to advance the infant study ethnology, to keep accounts, to sketch, to indite a copious legible journal, to collect grammar and vocabularies, and frequently to forward long reports which shall prevent the Royal Geographical Society napping through evening meetings. It is right, I own, to establish a high standard which insures some work being done; but explorations should be distinguished from railway journeys, and a broad line drawn between the feasible and the impossible. The unconscionable physicist now deems it his right to complain, because the explorer has not used his theodolite in the temple of Mecca, and introduced his sympiesometer within the walls of Harar. An ardent gentlemen once requested me to collect beetles, and another sent me excellent recipes for preserving ticks.
"These African explorations are small campaigns, in which the traveller, unaided by discipline, is beset by all the troubles, hardships, and perils of savage war. He must devote himself to feeding, drilling, and directing his men to the use of arms and the conduct of a Caravan, rather than the study of infusoria and barometers. The sight of an instrument convinces barbarians that the stranger is bringing down the sun, stopping rain, causing death, and bewitching the land for ages. Amidst utter savagery such operations are sometimes possible; amongst the semi-civilized they end badly. The climate also robs man of energy as well as health. He cannot, if he would, collect ticks and beetles. The simplest geodesical labours, as these pages will prove, are unadvisable. Jack has twice suffered from taking an altitude. Why is not a party of physicists sent out to swallow the dose prescribed by them to their army of martyrs?
"The rainy monsoon had set in at Fuga. Heavy clouds rolled up from the south-west, and during our two days and nights upon the hills the weather was a succession of drip, drizzle, and drench. In vain we looked for a star; even the sun could not disperse the thick raw vapours that rose from the steamy earth. We did not dare to linger upon the mountains. Our Belochies were not clad to resist the temperature—here 12° lower than on the coast; the rain would make the lowlands a hotbed of sickness, and we daily expected the inevitable 'seasoning-fever.' In the dry monsoon this route might be made practicable to Chhaga and Kilimanjaro. With an escort of a hundred musketeers, and at an expense of £600, the invalid who desires to avail himself of this 'sanitarium,' as it is now called by the Indian papers, may, if perfectly sound in wind, limb, and digestion, reach the snowy region, if it exist, after ten mountain-marches, which will not occupy more than a month.
"The head-quarter village of Usumbara is Fuga, a heap of some five hundred huts, containing, I was told, three thousand souls. It is defenceless, and composed of the circular abodes common from Harar to Timbuctoo.
"On Monday, the 16th of February, we took leave of, and were duly dismissed by, Sultan Kimwere. The old man, however, was mortified that our rambles had not produced a plant of sovereign virtue against the last evil of life. He had long expected a white mganga, and now two had visited him, to depart without even a trial! I felt sad to see the wistful lingering look with which he accompanied 'Kuahery!' (farewell!) But his case was far beyond my skill.
"None of Sultan Kimwere's men dared to face the terrible Wazegura.
"We descended the hills in a Scotch mist and drizzle, veiling every object from view. It deepened into a large-dropped shower upon the fœtid lowlands. That night we slept at Pasunga; the next at Msiky Mguru; and the third, after marching seventeen miles—our greatest distance—at Kohoday.
"Our Belochies declared the rate of marching excessive; and Hamdan, who personified 'Master Shoetie, the great traveller,' averred that he had twice visited the Lakes, but had never seen such hardships in his dreams.
"With some toil, however, we coaxed him into courage, and joined on the way a small party bound for Pangany. At one p.m. we halted to bathe and drink, as it would be some time before we should again sight the winding stream. During the storm of thunder and lightning which ensued, I observed that our savage companions, like the Thracians of old Herodotus, and the Bheels and coolies of modern India, shot their iron-tipped arrows in the air.
"About four p.m. we found ourselves opposite Kizanga, a large Wazegura village on the right bank of the river. From Kizanga we followed the river by a vile footpath. The air was dank and oppressive; the clouds seemed to settle upon the earth, and the decayed vegetation exhaled a feverish fœtor. As we advanced, the roar of the swollen stream told of rapids, whilst an occasional glimpse through its green veil showed a reefous surface, flecked with white froth. Heavy nimbi purpled the western skies, and we began to inquire of Wazira whether a village was at hand.
"About sunset, after marching fifteen miles, we suddenly saw tall cocos—in these lands the 'traveller's joy'—waving their feathery heads against the blue eastern firmament. Presently, crossing a branch of the river by a long bridge, we entered an island settlement of Wazegura. This village, being upon the confines of civilization, and excited by wars and rumours of wars, suggested treachery to experienced travellers. Jack and I fired our revolvers into trees, and carefully reloaded them for the public benefit. The sensation was such that we seized the opportunity of offering money for rice and ghee. No provision, however, was procurable. Our escort went to bed supperless; Hamdan cursing this Safar kháis—Anglicè, rotten journey. Murad Ali had remained at Msiky Mguru to purchase a slave without our knowledge. A novice in such matters, he neglected to tie the man's thumb, and had the exquisite misery to see, in the evening after the sale, his dollars bolting at a pace that baffled pursuit. We then placed our weapons handy, and were soon lulled to sleep, despite smoke, wet beds, and other plagues, by the blustering wind and the continuous pattering of rain.
"At sunrise on Friday, the 20th of February, we were aroused by the guide; and, after various delays, found ourselves on the road about seven a.m. This day was the reflection of the last march. At nine a.m. we stood upon a distant eminence to admire the falls of the Pangany river. Here the stream, emerging from a dense dark growth of tropical forest, hurls itself in three huge sheets, fringed with flashing foam, down a rugged wall of brown rock. Halfway the fall is broken by a ledge, whence a second leap precipitates the waters into the mist-veiled basin of stone below. These cascades must be grand during the monsoon, when the river, forming a single horseshoe, acquires a volume and a momentum sufficient to clear the step which divides the shrunken stream. Of all natural objects, the cataract most requires that first element of sublimity—size. Yet, as it was, this fall, with the white spray and bright mist, set off by black jungle, and a framework of slaty rain-cloud, formed a picture sufficiently effective to surprise us.
"As we journeyed onwards the heat became intense. The nimbi hugged the mountain tops. There it was winter; but the sun, whose beams shot stingingly through translucent air, parched the summer plains. At ten a.m. our Belochies, clean worn out by famine and fatigue, threw themselves upon the bank of a broad and deep ravine, in whose sedgy bed a little water still lingered. Half an hour's rest, a cocoa-nut each, a pipe, and, above all things, the spes finis, restored their vigour. We resumed our march over a rolling waste of green, enlivened by occasional glimpses of the river, whose very aspect cooled the gazer. Villages became frequent as we advanced, far distancing our Belochies. At three p.m., after marching fourteen miles, we sighted the snake-fence and the pent-houses of friendly Chogway.
"The Jemadar and his garrison received us with all the honours of travel, and admired