The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
History
The autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, G.C.B.
Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
Africa, Central -- Biography; Explorers -- Africa -- Biography; Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton), 1841-1904
Its ruler is Prince Barghash, son of Sayed. His subjects are very mixed,
and represent the rasping and guttural Arab, the soft-tongued and
languid Balooch, the fiery-eyed and black-bearded Omanee, the
flowing-locked and tall-hatted Persian, the lithe, slim-waisted Somali,
and at least a hundred specimens of the African tribes.
It was in the bazaars and shops of the principal city that we bought the
cottons, the various beads, the coils of brass wire, the tools, cordage,
ammunition, and guns. It was in a house at Zanzibar that we rolled these
cloths into seventy-pound bales, sacked the beads in similar weights,
packed the wire, and boxed the ammunition and tools. Meantime we
enlisted three hundred and fifty-six chosen fellows. They left their
porter-work, gossiping in the bazaar, the care of their fields and
gardens without the town, to become sworn followers of the
Anglo-American expedition, to carry its loads at so much per month, in
any direction on the mainland I should wish; to stand by the master in
times of trouble, to die with him, if necessary. I also, on my part,
swore to treat them kindly; to medicate them, if sick or bilious; to
judge honestly and impartially between man and man in their little camp
squabbles; to prevent ill-treatment of the weak by the strong; to be a
father and a mother, brother and sister, to each; and to resist, to the
utmost of my ability, any murderous natives who, encouraged by the
general forbearance of the white man, would feel disposed to do them
harm.
We call upon the One, and Compassionate, and Just God, to witness our
mutual pledges.
On the 11th of November, 1874, we sail away from our friends, who are
gathered on the beach at sunset, to witness our departure. The evening
breeze sweeps us across the Zangian Channel. The shadows of the night
fall over the mainland and the silent sea, as we glide on to the destiny
that may be awaiting us in the Dark Continent.
The next morning we debarked, and, a few days later, took the native
path which led to the west. I will not trouble you with a description of
the journeys made each day. That native path, only a foot wide, leading
westward, presently entered a jungle, then traversed a plain, on which
the sun shone dazzling, and pitilessly hot. We came to a river: it
swarmed with hippopotami and crocodiles. On the western bank the road
began again; it pierced a scrubby forest, ascended the face of a rising
land, dipped down again into a plain; it then curved over a wooded hill,
tracks of game becoming numerous; and so on it went, over plain, hill,
valley, through forest and jungle, cultivated fields of manioc, maize,
and millet, traversing several countries, such as Udoe, Uruguru,
Useguhha, Usagara. By the time we had gone through Ugogo, we were rich
in experience of African troubles, native arrogance, and unbridled
temper.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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