Through the Dark Continent, Vol. 2 (of 2) : $b or, The sources of the Nile around the Great Lakes of Equatorial Africa and down the Livingstone River to the Atlantic OceanStanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
History
Through the Dark Continent, Vol. 2 (of 2) : $b or, The sources of the Nile around the Great Lakes of Equatorial Africa and down the Livingstone River to the Atlantic Ocean
Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton)
Africa, Central -- Description and travel; Stanley, Henry M. (Henry Morton), 1841-1904 -- Travel -- Africa, Central
At the same time one must not forget that there is a remarkable
similarity between all the west coast tribes, from Lake Chad to Loanda,
which proves, in my opinion, the non-existence of those Mountains of the
Moon which have been drawn across Africa since Ptolemy’s time.
Schweinfurth crossed the watershed from the Nile side to the Wellé while
scarcely observing the difference of altitude. In the same manner one
might travel from Ituru to Unyanyembé without observing that he had
crossed the water-parting that separates the extreme southern sources of
the Nile from the extreme sources of Lake Tanganika’s principal
affluent.
We felt it to be unwise to stay long in the vicinity of such powerful,
well-equipped, and warlike tribes. We therefore lifted anchor, and began
to descend the stream; but as we turned away the savages lined the
banks, beat their drums, shouted their war-cries, and performed for our
edification the gymnastics of a true aboriginal fight. It never entered
their heads that they had given us provocation, and had but lately
charged us in mid-river with the fell purpose of destroying every soul,
that we had behaved kindly to them, or that we had attempted, though
ineffectually, to make friends with them. Had their canoes not fled up
river, I verily believe that our turning away would have been the signal
for another attack on us.
This last of the twenty-eight desperate combats which we had had with
the insensate furies of savage-land began to inspire us with a suspicion
of everything bearing the least semblance of man, and to infuse into our
hearts something of that feeling which possibly the hard-pressed stag
feels when, after distancing the hounds many times, and having resorted
to many stratagems to avoid them, wearied and bathed with perspiration,
he hears with terror and trembling the hideous and startling yells of
the ever-pursuing pack. We also had laboured strenuously through ranks
upon ranks of savages, scattered over a score of flotillas, had endured
persistent attacks night and day while straggling through them, had
resorted to all modes of defence, and yet at every curve of this fearful
river the yells of the savages broke loud on our ears, the snake-like
canoes darted forward impetuously to the attack, while the drums, and
horns, and shouts raised fierce and deafening uproar. We were becoming
exhausted. Yet we were still only on the middle line of the continent!
We were also being weeded out by units and twos and threes. There were
not thirty in the entire Expedition that had not received a wound. To
continue this fearful life was not possible. Some day we should lie
down, and offer our throats like lambs to the cannibal butchers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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