The Kilima-Njaro Expedition by Harry Johnston

Hitherto I had lived like Robinson Crusoe, in happy ignorance of savage and hostile neighbours. The only possible things of harm that I could have anticipated in my lonely rambles would have been a crafty leopard, pouncing on me from an overhanging bough, or the sudden onrush of a solitary buffalo. But now I was metaphorically and actually to see the footprints of my human foes imprinted in my favourite haunts. Whereas before my rambles on the mountains had been merely bounded by the short leisure time at my disposal, they were now to be circumscribed by the ring of warlike enemies that surrounded us. I have already explained to you the reason I selected Mandara's kingdom as my base of operations on Kilima-njaro. It was usually supposed, before my journey took place, that he was the paramount ruler of the mountain states, and it was thought that if I placed myself under Mandara's protection I might range free and undisturbed over the whole of this African Switzerland. In this, however, a great mistake was made, because Mandara ruled over a relatively small tract of land, and only up to 6000 feet in altitude. He did _not_ command the shortest or any route to the higher regions near the snow-peaks; and being at constant war with his neighbours, and his little kingdom in a continued state of blockade, his protection, as far as it influenced a peaceful residence on the upper slopes of the mountain, was worse than useless. Unfortunately, too, Mandara had made immediate use of the two or three barrels of gunpowder I had innocently given him, and had further availed himself of the moral support which my presence at his court afforded to wage a rash and unprovoked war on his neighbours, and to rob them in various well-planned raids of their wives and cattle, adding the latter to his herds and the former to his harem, and checking their enraged pursuits with the lofty threats that, if they dared to infringe the territory of Moši, "his" white man would pickle them alive. Consequently, while I was so tranquilly and innocently pursuing my quiet avocations, skinning birds, drying plants, building houses, and cutting roads amid the ferny glades around my growing settlement, far from the turmoil of war, and unconscious of the perpetration of ill deeds, the unhappy people of Kirua, Kibôšo, and Maraṅu were connecting the loss of their womankind and cows with my advent in Čaga, and naturally vowing me a life-long hatred. In the meantime my porters were returning from Taita with the rest of my goods, and in due time approached the base of the mountain. As they journeyed tranquilly one afternoon towards the frontier of Moši, and were congratulating themselves that a short march the next day would bring them to my settlement, their leader descried in the distance a body of men moving cautiously amongst the brushwood. Fearing lest they were Masai, he immediately made a forward rush for a camping-place close at hand-in fact, the very same site, a little peninsula nearly surrounded by a rivulet, where on the former journey lions had besieged us, as described in Chapter IV. The noise of their quick movement attracted the notice of the band of savages, who were evidently watching for the passage of my men, and they ran hastily towards the river to intercept the latter, thinking they were going to cross; but on arriving there they found the twenty Zanzibaris drawn up on the "almost-island" with their guns cocked and ready. The savages hesitated, and stopped to parley. Seeing this my head-man, Kiongwe, resolved to delay their action with conversation as far as possible till darkness should supervene and put a temporary stoppage on warlike deeds, for, as no doubt all well know, most Africans dread to fight at night. After a short silence the leader of the enemy asked, in a hesitating way, "Who are you? " "We are the servants of the white man who lives at Mandara's," proudly replied Kiongwe. "Then you are bad men," shrieked his interpellator with sudden fury. "Your master has helped Makindara (Mandara) to attack us, and he has given him strong medicine to make him conquer. Makindara has robbed us of many things; now you shall pay. Give us all those goods you are carrying, and return to Taveita; you shan't pass by here. " Kiongwe was a cunning man. He saw that it was well-nigh impossible for twenty heavily-burdened men to force their way through an armed band of fifty, so he prudently replied in conciliatory terms, "My master is not a bad man; he has fought nobody, and knows nothing of Mandara's wars. See, it is now getting dark. Let us sleep here till dawn, then we will speak again about this matter. " Whereupon he told the porters to cut boughs from the surrounding trees and roughly hedge in the encampment, and to gather firewood from around to make blazing watch-fires. The savages meanwhile disposed themselves sullenly in a circle round the little camp. Darkness fell. One by one the simple-minded enemy sank to sleep, confident that their prey feared the night as they themselves did, and would neither attack nor attempt to flee before the dawn. But Kiongwe kept all his men awake, made the watch-fires blaze, then at midnight, when his foes were snoring with sweet unanimity, he gave a stealthy word of command, the men rose silently, hoisted their burthens on their heads, clutched their guns, and one by one leaving the encampment, picked their way like cautious cats amid the sleeping forms of the besiegers. So, whether observed or not, they walked out into the darkness unopposed, and if any of the enemy slept not, and saw them go, his tongue was tied, and he dared not give the warning to his comrades, for-who could tell? -perhaps, after all, they were not men but ghosts, and none may fight with spirits in the enshrouding night.