CHAPTER III
THE MISSION STATION
We made the remains of our rope fast to the other canoe, and
sat waiting for the dawn and congratulating ourselves upon our
merciful escape, which really seemed to result more from the
special favour of Providence than from our own care or prowess.
At last it came, and I have not often been more grateful to
see the light, though so far as my canoe was concerned it revealed
a ghastly sight. There in the bottom of the little boat lay
the unfortunate Askari, the sime, or sword, in his bosom, and
the severed hand gripping the handle. I could not bear the sight,
so hauling up the stone which had served as an anchor to the
other canoe, we made it fast to the murdered man and dropped
him overboard, and down he went to the bottom, leaving nothing
but a train of bubbles behind him. Alas! when our time comes,
most of us like him leave nothing but bubbles behind, to show
that we have been, and the bubbles soon burst. The hand of his
murderer we threw into the stream, where it slowly sank. The
sword, of which the handle was ivory, inlaid with gold (evidently
Arab work), I kept and used as a hunting-knife, and very useful
it proved.
Then, a man having been transferred to my canoe, we once more
started on in very low spirits and not feeling at all comfortable
as to the future, but fondly hoping to arrive at the 'Highlands'
station by night. To make matters worse, within an hour of sunrise
it came on to rain in torrents, wetting us to the skin, and even
necessitating the occasional baling of the canoes, and as the
rain beat down the wind we could not use the sails, and had to
get along as best as we could with our paddles.
At eleven o'clock we halted on an open piece of ground on the
left bank of the river, and, the rain abating a little, managed
to make a fire and catch and broil some fish. We did not dare
to wander about to search for game. At two o'clock we got off
again, taking a supply of broiled fish with us, and shortly afterwards
the rain came on harder than ever. Also the river began to get
exceedingly difficult to navigate on account of the numerous
rocks, reaches of shallow water, and the increased force of the
current; so that it soon became clear to us that we should not
reach the Rev. Mackenzie's hospitable roof that night -- a prospect
that did not tend to enliven us. Toil as we would, we could
not make more than an average of a mile an hour, and at five
o'clock in the afternoon (by which time we were all utterly worn
out) we reckoned that we were still quite ten miles below the
station. This being so, we set to work to make the best arrangements
we could for the night. After our recent experience, we simply
did not dare to land, more especially as the banks of the Tana
were clothed with dense bush that would have given cover to five
thousand Masai, and at first I thought that we were going to
have another night of it in the canoes. Fortunately, however,
we espied a little rocky islet, not more than fifteen miles of
so square, situated nearly in the middle of the river. For this
we paddled, and, making fast the canoes, landed and made ourselves
as comfortable as circumstances would permit, which was very
uncomfortable indeed. As for the weather, it continued to be
simply vile, the rain coming down in sheets till we were chilled
to the marrow, and utterly preventing us from lighting a fire.
There was, however, one consoling circumstance about this rain;
our Askari declared that nothing would induce the Masai to make
an attack in it, as they intensely disliked moving about in the
wet, perhaps, as Good suggested, because they hate the idea of
washing. We ate some insipid and sodden cold fish -- that is,
with the exception of Umslopogaas, who, like most Zulus, cannot
bear fish -- and took a pull of brandy, of which we fortunately
had a few bottles left, and then began what, with one exception
-- when we same three white men nearly perished of cold on the
snow of Sheba's Breast in the course of our journey to Kukuanaland
-- was, I think, the most trying night I ever experienced. It
seemed absolutely endless, and once or twice I feared that two
of the Askari would have died of the wet, cold, and exposure.
Indeed, had it not been for timely doses of brandy I am sure
that they would have died, for no African people can stand much
exposure, which first paralyses and then kills them. I could
see that even that iron old warrior Umslopogaas felt it keenly;
though, in strange contrast to the Wakwafis, who groaned and
bemoaned their fate unceasingly, he never uttered a single complaint.
To make matters worse, about one in the morning we again heard
the owl's ominous hooting, and had at once to prepare ourselves
for another attack; though, if it had been attempted, I do not
think that we could have offered a very effective resistance.
But either the owl was a real one this time, or else the Masai
were themselves too miserable to think of offensive operations,
which, indeed, they rarely, if ever, undertake in bush veldt.
At any rate, we saw nothing of them.
At last the dawn came gliding across the water, wrapped in wreaths
of ghostly mist, and, with the daylight, the rain ceased; and
then, out came the glorious sun, sucking up the mists and warming
the chill air. Benumbed, and utterly exhausted, we dragged ourselves
to our feet, and went and stood in the bright rays, and were
thankful for them. I can quite understand how it is that primitive
people become sun worshippers, especially if their conditions
of life render them liable to exposure.
In half an hour more we were once again making fair progress
with the help of a good wind. Our spirits had returned with
the sunshine, and we were ready to laugh at difficulties and
dangers that had been almost crushing on the previous day.
And so we went on cheerily till about eleven o'clock. Just as
we were thinking of halting as usual, to rest and try to shoot
something to eat, a sudden bend in the river brought us in sight
of a substantial-looking European house with a veranda round
it, splendidly situated upon a hill, and surrounded by a high
stone wall with a ditch on the outer side. Right against and
overshadowing the house was an enormous pine, the tope of which
we had seen through a glass for the last two days, but of course
without knowing that it marked the site of the mission station.
I was the first to see the house, and could not restrain myself
from giving a hearty cheer, in which the others, including the
natives, joined lustily. There was no thought of halting now.
On we laboured, for, unfortunately, though the house seemed
quite near, it was still a long way off by river, until at last,
by one o'clock, we found ourselves at the bottom of the slope
on which the building stood. Running the canoes to the bank,
we disembarked, and were just hauling them up on to the shore,
when we perceived three figures, dressed in ordinary English-looking
clothes, hurrying down through a grove of trees to meet us.
'A gentleman, a lady, and a little girl,' ejaculated Good, after
surveying the trio through his eyeglass, 'walking in a civilized
fashion, through a civilized garden, to meet us in this place.
Hang me, if this isn't the most curious thing we have seen yet!'
Good was right: it certainly did seem odd and out of place --
more like a scene out of a dream or an Italian opera than a real
tangible fact; and the sense of unreality was not lessened when
we heard ourselves addressed in good broad Scotch, which, however,
I cannot reproduce.
'How do you do, sirs,' said Mr Mackenzie, a grey-haired, angular
man, with a kindly face and red cheeks; 'I hope I see you very
well. My natives told me an hour ago they spied two canoes with
white men in them coming up the river; so we have just come down
to meet you.'
'And it is very glad that we are to see a white face again, let
me tell you,' put in the lady -- a charming and refined-looking
person.
We took off our hats in acknowledgment, and proceeded to introduce
ourselves.
'And now,' said Mr Mackenzie, 'you must all be hungry and weary;
so come on, gentlemen, come on, and right glad we are to see
you. The last white who visited us was Alphonse -- you will
see Alphonse presently -- and that was a year ago.'
Meanwhile we had been walking up the slope of the hill, the lower
portion of which was fenced off, sometimes with quince fences
and sometimes with rough stone walls, into Kaffir gardens, just
now full of crops of mealies, pumpkins, potatoes, etc. In the
corners of these gardens were groups of neat mushroom-shaped
huts, occupied by Mr Mackenzie's mission natives, whose women
and children came pouring out to meet us as we walked. Through
the centre of the gardens ran the roadway up which we were walking.
It was bordered on each side by a line of orange trees, which,
although they had only been planted ten years, had in the lovely
climate of the uplands below Mt Kenia, the base of which is about
5,000 feet above the coastline level, already grown to imposing
proportions, and were positively laden with golden fruit. After
a stiffish climb of a quarter of a mile or so -- for the hillside
was steep -- we came to a splendid quince fence, also covered
with fruit, which enclosed, Mr Mackenzie told us, a space of
about four acres of ground that contained his private garden,
house, church, and outbuildings, and, indeed, the whole hilltop.
And what a garden it was! I have always loved a good garden,
and I could have thrown up my hands for joy when I saw Mr Mackenzie's.
First there were rows upon rows of standard European fruit-trees,
all grafted; for on top of this hill the climate was so temperate
that nearly all the English vegetables, trees, and flowers flourished
luxuriantly, even including several varieties of the apple, which,
generally, runs to wood in a warm climate and obstinately refuses
to fruit. Then there were strawberries and tomatoes (such tomatoes!),
and melons and cucumbers, and, indeed, every sort of vegetable
and fruit.
'Well, you have something like a garden!' I said, overpowered
with admiration not untouched by envy.
'Yes,' answered the missionary, 'it is a very good garden, and
has well repaid my labour; but it is the climate that I have
to thank. If you stick a peach-stone into the ground it will
bear fruit the fourth year, and a rose-cutting with bloom in
a year. It is a lovely clime.'
Just then we came to a ditch about ten feet wide, and full of
water, on the other side of which was a loopholed stone wall
eight feet high, and with sharp flints plentifully set in mortar
on the coping.
'There,' said Mr Mackenzie, pointing to the ditch and wall, 'this
is my magnum opus; at least, this and the church, which is the
other side of the house. It took me and twenty natives two years
to dig the ditch and build the wall, but I never felt safe till
it was done; and now I can defy all the savages in Africa, for
the spring that fills the ditch is inside the wall, and bubbles
out at the top of the hill winter and summer alike, and I always
keep a store of four months' provision in the house.'
Crossing over a plank and through a very narrow opening in the
wall, we entered into what Mrs Mackenzie called her domain --
namely, the flower garden, the beauty of which is really beyond
my power to describe. I do not think I ever saw such roses,
gardenias, or camellias (all reared from seeds or cuttings sent
from England); and there was also a patch given up to a collection
of bulbous roots mostly collected by Miss Flossie, Mr Mackenzie's
little daughter, from the surrounding country, some of which
were surpassingly beautiful. In the middle of this garden, and
exactly opposite the veranda, a beautiful fountain of clear water
bubbled up from the ground, and fell into a stone-work basin
which had been carefully built to receive it, whence the overflow
found its way by means of a drain to the moat round the outer
wall, this moat in its turn serving as a reservoir, whence an
unfailing supply of water was available to irrigate all the gardens
below. The house itself, a massively built single-storied building,
was roofed with slabs of stone, and had a handsome veranda in
front. It was built on three sides of a square, the fourth side
being taken up by the kitchens, which stood separate from the
house -- a very good plan in a hot country. In the centre of
this square thus formed was, perhaps, the most remarkable object
that we had yet seen in this charming place, and that was a single
tree of the conifer tribe, varieties of which grow freely on
the highlands of this part of Africa. This splendid tree, which
Mr Mackenzie informed us was a landmark for fifty miles round,
and which we had ourselves seen for the last forty miles of our
journey, must have been nearly three hundred feet in height,
the trunk measuring about sixteen feet in diameter at a yard
from the ground. For some seventy feet it rose a beautiful tapering
brown pillar without a single branch, but at that height splendid
dark green boughs, which, looked at from below, had the appearance
of gigantic fern-leaves, sprang out horizontally from the trunk,
projecting right over the house and flower-garden, to both of
which they furnished a grateful proportion of shade, without
-- being so high up -- offering any impediment to the passage
of light and air.
'What a beautiful tree!' exclaimed Sir Henry.
'Yes, you are right; it is a beautiful tree. There is not another
like it in all the country round, that I know of,' answered Mr
Mackenzie. 'I call it my watch tower. As you see, I have a
rope ladder fixed to the lowest bough; and if I want to see anything
that is going on within fifteen miles or so, all I have to do
is to run up it with a spyglass. But you must be hungry, and
I am sure the dinner is cooked. Come in, my friends; it is but
a rough place, but well enough for these savage parts; and I
can tell you what, we have got -- a French cook.' And he led
the way on to the veranda.
As I was following him, and wondering what on earth he could
mean by this, there suddenly appeared, through the door that
opened on to the veranda from the house, a dapper little man,
dressed in a neat blue cotton suit, with shoes made of tanned
hide, and remarkable for a bustling air and most enormous black
mustachios, shaped into an upward curve, and coming to a point
for all the world like a pair of buffalo-horns.
'Madame bids me for to say that dinnar is sarved. Messieurs,
my compliments;' then suddenly perceiving Umslopogaas, who was
loitering along after us and playing with his battleaxe, he threw
up his hands in astonishment. 'Ah, mais quel homme!' he ejaculated
in French, 'quel sauvage affreux! Take but note of his huge
choppare and the great pit in his head.'
'Ay,' said Mr Mackenzie; 'what are you talking about, Alphonse?'
'Talking about!' replied the little Frenchman, his eyes still
fixed upon Umslopogaas, whose general appearance seemed to fascinate
him; 'why I talk of him' -- and he rudely pointed -- 'of ce monsieur noir.'
At this everybody began to laugh, and Umslopogaas, perceiving
that he was the object of remark, frowned ferociously, for he
had a most lordly dislike of anything like a personal liberty.
'Parbleu!' said Alphonse, 'he is angered -- he makes the grimace.
I like not his air. I vanish.' And he did with considerable rapidity.
Mr Mackenzie joined heartily in the shout of laughter which we
indulged in. 'He is a queer character -- Alphonse,' he said.
'By and by I will tell you his history; in the meanwhile let
us try his cooking.'
'Might I ask,' said Sir Henry, after we had eaten a most excellent
dinner, 'how you came to have a French cook in these wilds?'
'Oh,' answered Mrs Mackenzie, 'he arrived here of his own accord
about a year ago, and asked to be taken into our service.
He had got into some trouble in France, and fled to Zanzibar,
where he found an application had been made by the French Government
for his extradition. Whereupon he rushed off up-country, and
fell in, when nearly starved, with our caravan of men, who were
bringing us our annual supply of goods, and was brought on here.
You should get him to tell you the story.'
When dinner was over we lit our pipes, and Sir Henry proceeded
to give our host a description of our journey up here, over which
he looked very grave.
'It is evident to me,' he said, 'that those rascally Masai are
following you, and I am very thankful that you have reached this
house in safety. I do not think that they will dare to attack
you here. It is unfortunate, though, that nearly all my men
have gone down to the coast with ivory and goods. There are
two hundred of them in the caravan, and the consequence is that
I have not more than twenty men available for defensive purposes
in case they should attack us. But, still, I will just give
a few orders;' and, calling a black man who was loitering about
outside in the garden, he went to the window, and addressed him
in a Swahili dialect. The man listened, and then saluted and
departed.
'I am sure I devoutly hope that we shall bring no such calamity
upon you,' said I, anxiously, when he had taken his seat again.
'Rather than bring those bloodthirsty villains about your ears,
we will move on and take our chance.'
'You will do nothing of the sort. If the Masai come, they come,
and there is an end on it; and I think we can give them a pretty
warm greeting. I would not show any man the door for all the
Masai in the world.'
'That reminds me,' I said, 'the Consul at Lamu told me that he
had had a letter from you, in which you said that a man had arrived
here who reported that he had come across a white people in the
interior. Do you think that there was any truth in his story?
I ask, because I have once or twice in my life heard rumours
from natives who have come down from the far north of the existence
of such a race.'
Mr Mackenzie, by way of answer, went out of the room and returned,
bringing with him a most curious sword. It was long, and all
the blade, which was very thick and heavy, was to within a quarter
of an inch of the cutting edge worked into an ornamental pattern
exactly as we work soft wood with a fret-saw, the steel, however,
being invariably pierced in such a way as not to interfere with
the strength of the sword. This in itself was sufficiently curious,
but what was still more so was that all the edges of the hollow
spaces cut through the substance of the blade were most beautifully
inlaid with gold, which was in some way that I cannot understand
welded on to the steel {Endnote 5}.
'There,' said Mr Mackenzie, 'did you ever see a sword like that?'
We all examined it and shook our heads.
'Well, I have got it to show you, because this is what the man
who said he had seen the white people brought with him, and because
it does more or less give an air of truth to what I should otherwise
have set down as a lie. Look here; I will tell you all that
I know about the matter, which is not much. One afternoon, just
before sunset, I was sitting on the veranda, when a poor, miserable,
starved-looking man came limping up and squatted down before
me. I asked him where he came from and what he wanted, and thereon
he plunged into a long rambling narrative about how he belonged
to a tribe far in the north, and how his tribe was destroyed
by another tribe, and he with a few other survivors driven still
further north past a lake named Laga. Thence, it appears, he
made his way to another lake that lay up in the mountains, "a
lake without a bottom" he called it, and here his wife and brother
died of an infectious sickness -- probably smallpox -- whereon
the people drove him out of their villages into the wilderness,
where he wandered miserably over mountains for ten days, after
which he got into dense thorn forest, and was one day found there
by some white men who were hunting, and who took him to a place
where all the people were white and lived in stone houses. Here
he remained a week shut up in a house, till one night a man with
a white beard, whom he understood to be a "medicine-man", came
and inspected him, after which he was led off and taken through
the thorn forest to the confines of the wilderness, and given
food and this sword (at least so he said), and turned loose.'
'Well,' said Sir Henry, who had been listening with breathless
interest, 'and what did he do then?'
'Oh! he seems, according to his account, to have gone through
sufferings and hardships innumerable, and to have lived for weeks
on roots and berries, and such things as he could catch and kill.
But somehow he did live, and at last by slow degrees made his
way south and reached this place. What the details of his journey
were I never learnt, for I told him to return on the morrow,
bidding one of my headmen look after him for the night. The
headman took him away, but the poor man had the itch so badly
that the headman's wife would not have him in the hut for fear
of catching it, so he was given a blanket and told to sleep outside.
As it happened, we had a lion hanging about here just then,
and most unhappily he winded this unfortunate wanderer, and,
springing on him, bit his head almost off without the people
in the hut knowing anything about it, and there was an end of
him and his story about the white people; and whether or no there
is any truth in it is more than I can tell you. What do you
think, Mr Quatermain?'
I shook my head, and answered, 'I don't know. There are so many
queer things hidden away in the heart of this great continent
that I should be sorry to assert that there was no truth in it.
Anyhow, we mean to try and find out. We intend to journey to
Lekakisera, and thence, if we live to get so far, to this Lake
Laga; and, if there are any white people beyond, we will do our
best to find them.'
'You are very venturesome people,' said Mr Mackenzie,
with a smile, and the subject dropped.
