What Led to the Discovery of the Source of the NileSpeke, John Hanning
History
What Led to the Discovery of the Source of the Nile
Speke, John Hanning
Horn of Africa -- Description and travel; Nile River; Tanganyika, Lake
At night a violent storm of rain and wind beat on my tent with such
fury that its nether parts were torn away from the pegs, and the tent
itself was only kept upright by sheer force. On the wind's abating, a
candle was lighted to rearrange the kit, and in a moment, as though by
magic, the whole interior became covered with a host of small black
beetles, evidently attracted by the glimmer of the candle. They were
so annoyingly determined in their choice of place for peregrinating,
that it seemed hopeless my trying to brush them off the clothes or
bedding, for as one was knocked aside another came on, and then
another; till at last, worn out, I extinguished the candle, and with
difficulty--trying to overcome the tickling annoyance occasioned by
these intruders crawling up my sleeves and into my hair, or down my
back and legs--fell off to sleep. Repose that night was not destined
to be my lot. One of these horrid little insects awoke me in his
struggles to penetrate my ear, but just too late: for in my endeavour
to extract him, I aided his immersion. He went his course, struggling
up the narrow channel, until he got arrested by want of passage-room.
This impediment evidently enraged him, for he began with exceeding
vigour, like a rabbit at a hole, to dig violently away at my tympanum.
The queer sensation this amusing _measure_ excited in me is past
description. I felt inclined to act as our donkeys once did, when
beset by a swarm of bees, who buzzed about their ears and stung their
heads and eyes until they were so irritated and confused that they
galloped about in the most distracted order, trying to knock them off
by treading on their heads, or by rushing under bushes, into houses,
or through any jungle they could find. Indeed, I do not know which was
worst off. The bees killed some of them, and this beetle nearly did
for me. What to do I knew not. Neither tobacco, oil, nor salt could be
found: I therefore tried melted butter; that failing, I applied the
point of a penknife to his back, which did more harm than good; for
though a few thrusts quieted him, the point also wounded my ear so
badly, that inflammation set in, severe suppuration took place, and
all the facial glands extending from that point down to the point of
the shoulder became contorted and drawn aside, and a string of boils
decorated the whole length of that region. It was the most painful
thing I ever remember to have endured; but, more annoying still, I
could not masticate for several days, and had to feed on broth alone.
For many months the tumour made me almost deaf, and ate a hole between
the ear and the nose, so that when I blew it, my ear whistled so
audibly that those who heard it laughed. Six or seven months after
this accident happened, bits of the beetle--a leg, a wing, or parts of
its body--came away in the wax.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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