Stanley in Africa

As has been stated, Stanley’s objective was the mouth of the large river Aruwimi, which enters the Congo, a short distance below Stanley Falls, in Lat. 1° N., and whose general westward direction led him to think that by following it he would get within easy marches of Lake Albert Nyanza and thus into Emin’s dominions.

On the arrival of the expedition at the mouth of the Aruwimi, an armed camp was formed at Yambungi and left in charge of the unfortunate Major Barttelot, and here a conference was awaited with the dual-hearted Arab, Tippoo Tib, whom Stanley had recognized as ruler at Nyangwe, on the Congo, above Stanley Falls, and who was bound to him by the most solemn treaties. The wily chieftain came up in due time, and the interview was such as to engender serious doubts of his further friendship, notwithstanding his protestations.

The occasion was a palaver, at the request of Major Barttelot, with a view to obtain some definite understanding as to the providing of the Manyema porters whom Tippoo Tib had promised Stanley he would supply in order that the rearguard might follow him up from the Aruwimi River to Wadelai. How the porters did not come up to time; how the commander of the rearguard was hampered with new conditions as to weight when the men did appear; and how the dreadful business ended in the assassination of Major Barttelot and the breaking up of the camp, will appear further on. The death of Mr. Jameson soon afterwards, at Ward’s Camp, on the Congo, a distressing sequel to the former tragedy, was in somber tone with the reports of Stanley’s death which came filtering through the darkness at about the same time. The cloud which fell upon the Aruwimi camp seemed to spread its dark mantle over the entire expedition. Mr. Werner, in his interesting volume “A Visit to Stanley’s Rear Guard,” gives a characteristic sketch of the Arab chief; and Mr. Werner was the engineer in charge of the vessel which took Major Barttelot part of the way on his last journey to the Falls. “After the light complexion of the other Arabs,” he says, “I was somewhat surprised to find Mr. Tippoo Tib as black as any negro I had seen; but he had a fine well-shaped head, bald at the top, and a short, black, thick beard thickly strewn with white hairs. He was dressed in the usual Arab style, but more simply than the rest of the Arab chiefs, and had a broad, well-formed figure. His restless eyes gave him a great resemblance to the negro’s head with blinking eyes in the electric advertisements of somebody’s shoe polish which adorned the walls of railway-stations some years ago – and earned him the nickname of ‘Nubian blacking.’”

In June, 1887, Stanley started on his ascent of the unknown Aruwimi, and through a country filled with natives prejudiced against him by the Arab traders and friends of the Mahdi. His force now comprised 5 white men and 380 armed natives. His journey proved tedious and perilous in the extreme, and though he persevered in the midst of obstacles for two months, he was still 400 miles from Albert Nyanza. It was now found that the river route was impracticable for the heavier boats. At this point their troubles thickened. The natives proved hostile, and ingenious in their means of opposing obstructions to the further progress of the expedition. They refused to contribute provisions, and starvation stared the travelers in the face. For weeks their only food was wild fruit and nuts. To forage was to invite death, and to engage in open war was to court annihilation. Disease broke out, and it must have swept them all away but for the precautions which Stanley took to head off its ravages. As it was, the number was greatly reduced, and the men were weak, emaciated, in a state of panic, amid surrounding dangers and without spirit for further trials. Writing of this critical period, his letters say:

“What can you make of this, for instance? On August 17, 1887, all the officers of the rear column are united at Yambuya. They have my letter of instructions before them, but instead of preparing for the morrow’s march, to follow our track, they decide to wait at Yambuya, which decision initiates the most awful season any community of men ever endured in Africa or elsewhere.

“The results are that three-quarters of their force die of slow poison. Their commander is murdered and the second officer dies soon after of sickness and grief. Another officer is wasted to a skeleton and obliged to return home. A fourth is sent to wander aimlessly up and down the Congo, and the survivor is found in such a fearful pest-hole that we dare not describe its horrors.

“On the same date, 150 miles away, the officer of the day leads 333 men of the advance column into the bush, loses the path and all consciousness of his whereabouts, and every step he takes only leads him further astray. His people become frantic; his white companions, vexed and irritated by the sense of the evil around them, cannot devise any expedient to relieve him. They are surrounded by cannibals and poison tipped arrows thin their numbers.

“Meantime I, in command of the river column, am anxiously searching up and down the river in four different directions; through forests my scouts are seeking for them, but not until the sixth day was I successful in finding them.”

Having now brought his different marching columns closer together, and loaded his sick in light canoes, he started on, intercepted continually by wild native raiders who inflicted considerable loss on his best men, who had to bear the brunt of fighting as well as the fatigue of paddling. Soon progress by the river became too tedious and difficult, and orders were given to cast off the canoes. The land course now lay along the north bank of the Itura, amid dense forests, and through the despoiled lands which had been a stamping ground for Ugarrowa and Kilingalango raiders. No grass land, with visions of beef, mutton and vegetables, were within a hundred miles of the dismal scene.

For two weeks the expedition threaded the unknown tangle, looking out for ambuscades, warding off attacks, and braving dangers of every description. At length the region of the Dwaris was reached and a plantain patch burst into view. The hungry wayfarers plunged into it and regaled themselves with the roasted fruit, while the more thoughtful provided a store of plantain flour for the dreaded wilderness ahead. Another plunge was made into the trackless forest and ten days elapsed before another plantation was reached, during which time the small-pox broke out, with greater loss of life than any other enemy had as yet inflicted. Meanwhile they had passed the mouth of the Ihuru, a large tributary of the Itura, and were on the banks of the Ishuru. As there was no possibility of crossing this turbulent tributary, its right bank was followed for four days till the principal village of the Andikuma tribe was reached. It was surrounded by the finest plantation of bananas and plantains, which all the Manyemas’ habit of spoliation and destruction had been unable to destroy. There the travelers, after severe starvation during fourteen days, gorged themselves to such excess that it contributed greatly to lessen their numbers. Every twentieth individual suffered from some complaint which entirely incapacitated him for duty.

From Andikuma, a six days’ march northerly brought them to a flourishing settlement, called Indeman. Here Stanley was utterly nonplussed by the confusion of river names. The natives were dwarfs. After capturing some of them and forcing answers, he found that they were on the right branch of the Ihuru river and that it could be bridged. Throwing a bridge across, they passed into a region wholly inhabited by dwarfs who proved very hostile. They are the Wambutti people, and such were their number and ferocity that Stanley was forced to change his north-east into a south-east course and to follow the lead of elephant tracks.

They had now to pass through the most terrible of all their African experiences. Writing further of this trying ordeal, Stanley says:

“On the fifth day, having distributed all the stock of flour in camp, and having killed the only goat we possessed, I was compelled to open the officers’ provision boxes and take a pound pot of butter, with two cupfuls of my flour, to make an imitation gruel, there being nothing else save tea, coffee, sugar, and a pot of sage in the boxes. In the afternoon a boy died, and the condition of the majority of the rest was most disheartening. Some could not stand, falling down in the effort to do so. These constant sights acted on my nerves until I began to feel not only moral but physical sympathy, as though the weakness was contagious. Before night a Madi carrier died. The last of our Somalis gave signs of collapse, and the few Soudanese with us were scarcely able to move. When the morning of the sixth day dawned, we made broth with the usual pot of butter, an abundance of water, a pot of condensed milk, and a cupful of flour for 130 people. The chiefs and Bonny were called to a council. At my suggesting a reverse to the foragers of such a nature as to exclude our men from returning with news of the disaster, they were altogether unable to comprehend such a possibility. They believed it possible that these 150 men were searching for food, without which they would not return. They were then asked to consider the supposition that they were five days searching food, and they had lost the road, perhaps, or, having no white leader, had scattered to shoot goats, and had entirely forgotten their starving friends and brothers in the camp. What would be the state of the 130 people five days hence? Bonny offered to stay with ten men in the camp if I provided ten days’ food for each person, while I would set out to search for the missing men. Food to make a light cupful of gruel for ten men for ten days was not difficult to procure, but the sick and feeble remaining must starve unless I met with good fortune; and accordingly a stone of buttermilk, flour, and biscuits were prepared and handed over to the charge of Bonny. In the afternoon of the seventh day we mustered everybody, besides the garrison of the camp, ten men. Sadi, a Manyema chief, surrendered fourteen of his men to their doom. Kibboboras, another chief, abandoned his brother; and Fundi, another Manyema chief, left one of his wives and her little boy. We left twenty-six feeble and sick wretches already past all hope unless food could be brought them within twenty-four hours. In a cheery tone, though my heart was never heavier, I told the forty-three hunger-bitten people that I was going back to hunt for the missing men. We traveled nine miles that afternoon, having passed several dead people on the road, and early on the eighth day of their absence from camp we met them marching in an easy fashion, but when we were met the pace was altered, so that in twenty-six hours from leaving Starvation Camp we were back with a cheery abundance around us of gruel and porridge, boiling bananas, boiling plantains, roasting meat, and simmering soup. This had been my nearest approach to absolute starvation in all my African experience. Altogether twenty-one persons succumbed in this dreadful camp.”

After twelve days journey the party on November 12th, reached Ibwiri. The Arab devastation, which had reached within a few miles of Ibwiri, was so thorough that not a native hut was left standing between Urgarrava and Ibwiri. What the Arabs did not destroy the elephants destroyed, turning the whole region into a horrible wilderness.

Stanley continues: – “Our sufferings terminated at Ibwiri. We were beyond the reach of destroyers. We were on virgin soil, in a populous region, abounding with food. We, ourselves, were mere skeletons – reduced in number from 289 to but little more than half that number. Hitherto our people were skeptical of what we told them. The suffering had been so awful, the calamities so numerous, and the forests so endless, that they refused to believe that by and by we would see plains and cattle, the Nyanza, and Emin Pasha. They had turned a deaf ear to our prayers and entreaties for, driven by hunger and suffering, they sold their rifles and equipments for ears of Indian corn, deserted with their ammunition and became generally demoralized. Perceiving that mild punishment would be of no avail, I resorted to the death penalty, and two of the worst cases were hanged in the presence of all. We halted 13 days at Ibwiri, revelling on fowls, goats, bananas, corn, yams, etc. The supplies were inexhaustible and our people glutted themselves with such effect that our force increased to 173 sleek robust men – one had been killed with an arrow.”

On November 24th the expedition started for Albert Nyanza, 126 miles distant. Given food, the distance seemed nothing. On December 1st an open country was sighted from the top of a ridge which was named Mt. Pisgah. On the 5th the plains were reached and the deadly, gloomy forest left behind. The light of day now beamed all around, after 160 days of travel. They thought they had never seen grass so green or a country so lovely. The men could not contain themselves but leaped and yelled for joy, and even raced over the ground with their heavy burdens.

On Nov. 9, 1887, Stanley says, “We entered the country of the powerful Chief Mazamboni. The villages were scattered so thickly that no road except through them could be found. The natives sighted us, but we were prepared. We seized a hill as soon as we arrived in the center of a mass of villages, and built a zareba as fast as billhooks could cut the brushwood. The war cries were terrible from hill to hill, pealing across the intervening valleys. The people gathered in hundreds at every point, war horns and drums announcing the struggle. After a slight skirmish, ending in our capture of a cow, the first beef we had tasted since we left the ocean, the night passed peacefully, both sides preparing for the morrow.

“Here Mr. Stanley narrates how negotiations with natives failed, Mazamboni declining a peace offering, and how a detachment of 40 persons, led by Lieutenant Stairs, and another of 30, under command of Mr. Jephson, with sharpshooters, left the zareba and assaulted and carried the villages, driving the natives into a general rout. The march was resumed on the 12th and here were constant little fights.

“On the afternoon of the 13th,” says Mr. Stanley, “we sighted the Nyanza, with Kavalli, the objective point of the expedition. Six miles off I had told the men to prepare to see the Nyanza. They murmured and doubted, saying, “Why does the master continually talk this way? Nyanza indeed.” When they saw the Nyanza below them, many came to kiss my hands. We were now at an altitude of 5,200 feet above the sea, with the Albert Nyanza 2,900 feet below, in one degree twenty minutes. The south end of the Nyanza lay largely mapped for about six miles south of this position and right across to the eastern shore. Every dent in its low, flat shore was visible, and traced like a silver snake on the dark ground was the tributary Lanilki, flowing into the Albert Nyanza from the south-west.

“After a short halt to enjoy the prospect, we commenced the rugged and stony descent. Before the rear guard had descended 100 feet the natives from the plateau poured after them, keeping the rear guard busy until within a few hundred feet of the Nyanza plain. We camped at the foot of the plateau wall, the aneroids reading 2,500 feet above the sea level. A night attack was made, but the sentries sufficed to drive our assailants off.

“We afterwards approached the village of Kakongo, situated at the south-west corner of Albert Lake. Three hours were spent by us in attempting to make friends, but we signally failed. They would not allow us to go to the lake, because we might frighten their cattle. They would not exchange the blood of brotherhood, because they never heard of any good people coming from the west side of the lake. They would not accept any present from us, because they did not know who we were; but they would give us water to drink, and would show us the road up to Nyam-Sassi. From these singular people we learned that they had heard that there was a white man at Unyoro, but they had never heard of any white men being on the west side, nor had they ever seen any steamers on the lake. There was no excuse for quarrelling. The people were civil enough, but they did not want us near them. We therefore were shown the path and followed it for miles. We camped about half a mile from the lake, and then began to consider our position with the light thrown upon it by conversation with the Kakongo natives.”

But, now he was in more of a quandary than ever. The lake was before him, but no sign of Emin nor any of his officials. Could he have failed to hear of Stanley’s sacrifices in his behalf? The famished expedition looked in vain on that expanse of water for evidence of friendly flag or welcome steamer. It had left all its own boats behind, a distance of 190 miles, and was therefore helpless for further search. This should not be, and so with his accustomed heroism, Stanley resolved on a return march to Kilinga for boats. It was a hard, quick journey, occupying weeks, for the distance was great.

Writing of his fatigue and disappointment on his arrival at Lake Albert Nyanza, Stanley says:

“My couriers from Zanzibar had evidently not arrived, or Emin Pasha, with his two steamers, would have paid the south-west side of the lake a visit to prepare the natives for our coming. My boat was at Kilingalonga, 190 miles distant, and there was no canoe obtainable. To seize a canoe without the excuse of a quarrel, my conscience would not permit. There was no tree anywhere of a size sufficient to make canoes. Wadelai was a terrible distance off for an expedition so reduced. We had used five cases of cartridges in five days fighting on the plain.

“A month of such fighting must exhaust our stock. There was no plan suggested that was feasible, except to retreat to Ibwiri, build a fort, send the party back to Kalingalonga for a boat, store up every load in the fort not conveyable, leave a garrison in the fort to hold it, march back to Albert Lake, and send a boat in search of Emin Pasha. This was the plan which, after lengthy discussions with the officers, I resolved upon.”

The most pathetic part of this eventful history is the fact that Emin had really received Stanley’s messages, had been surprised at his coming to rescue him, and had made an effort to meet him on some likely point on the lake, but having failed had returned to his southern capital, Wadelai, on the Nile outlet of the lake.

During the time so spent by the expedition the outside world was filled with rumors of the death of Stanley, either by disease or at the hands of the natives. These reports would always be followed by some favorable report from the expedition, not authentic, but enough to give hope that the hardy explorers were safe and continuing their way across the continent. Occasionally, too, during the first part of the trip, couriers would arrive at the coast from Stanley announcing progress, but, as they advanced, no further communications were received, and the expedition was swallowed up in the jungles and vast forests of Central Africa.

Putting his plans for a return into execution, Stanley had to fight his way from the shores of the lake to the top of the plateau, for the Kakongo natives were determined he should not pass back the way he had come. He was victorious with a loss of one man killed and one wounded. The plateau gained, he plunged westward by forced marches, and by January 7, 1888, was back at Ibwiri. After a few days rest there, he dispatched Lieut. Stairs with 100 men to Kilinga to bring up the boats. On his return with the boats, he was sent to Ugarrowas to bring up the convalescents. Stanley now fell sick and only recovered after a month of careful nursing.

It was now April 2d, and he again started for the lake, accompanied by Jephson and Parke, Nelson being left in command at the post, now Fort Bodo, with a garrison of 43 men. On April 26, he was again in Mazamboni’s country, who, after much solicitation was induced to make blood brotherhood with Stanley. Strange to say every other chief as far as the lake followed his example, and every difficulty was removed. Food was supplied in abundance and gratis, and the gracious natives, expert in the art of hut building, prepared in advance the necessary shelter for night.

When within a day’s march of the lake, natives came up from Kavalli saying that a white man had given their chief a note done up in a black packet and that they would lead Stanley to him if he would follow. He replied, “he would not only follow but make them rich,” for he did not doubt that the white man was Emin Pasha. The next day’s march brought them to Chief Kavalli, who handed Stanley a note from Emin Pasha done up in black American oil cloth. It was to the effect that as there had been a native rumor that a white man had been seen at the south end of the lake, he (Emin) had gone thither in a steamer but had been unable to obtain reliable information. The note further begged Stanley to remain where he was till Emin could communicate with him.

The next day, April 23d, Stanley sent Jephson with a strong force to take the boat of the expedition to Lake Nyanza. On the 26th the boat crew sited Mawa Station, the southernmost station in Emin’s boundaries. There Jephson was hospitably received by the Egyptian garrison. On April 29th, Stanley and his party again reached the bivouac ground on the plateau overlooking the lake, where they had encamped before, and at 5 P.M., they sighted the Khedive steamer, seven miles away on the lake, steaming up towards them. By 7 P.M., the steamer arrived opposite the camp, and shortly afterwards, Emin Pasha, Signor Carati and Jephson came to Stanley’s head-quarters where they were heartily welcomed. The next day Stanley moved his camp to a better place, three miles above Nyamsassi, and Emin also moved his camp thither. The two leaders were together, in frequent consultation, till May 25th. The Pasha was surrounded by two battalions of regulars, besides a respectable force of irregulars, sailors, artisans, clerks and servants. How different, in many respects, was the situation from what Stanley expected!

He found Emin Pasha in the midst of plenty and unwilling to be rescued. He found his own forces jaded with travel, on the eve of starvation, and anxious to be rescued. He found, moreover, a prince in his own equatorial empire, who looked with jealous eyes on the relief expedition. In one of his (Emin’s) letters dated April 17, 1888, he declared that he had no intention to give up his work in Africa and had determined to await Stanley’s coming at Wadelai. In another letter he expressed himself very decidedly to the effect that he did not wish his province to come under English suzerainty. He was evidently of the opinion that the British Government in sending out Stanley had its eyes on his province with a view to eventually incorporating it with the Soudan, should the Anglo-Egyptians succeed in re-establishing authority at Khartoum. The same idea gradually forced itself to acceptance in Europe, and, as we know, the German Government later became no less anxious to get into communication with Emin in the hope of preventing him from making any arrangement with England.

It was not therefore such a meeting as took place years before between Stanley and Livingstone, at Ujiji on the banks of Lake Tanganyika.

Long interviews followed which did not impress Stanley with the fact that his expedition was to be a success, so far as getting Emin out of the country was concerned. “Altogether,” said Emin, “if I consent to go away from here we shall have 8000 people with us.” His principal desire seemed to be that Stanley should relieve him of about 100 of his Egyptian soldiers, with their women and children. He said he was extremely doubtful of the loyalty of the first and second battalions. It was this interview which Stanley announced to the world of civilization by way of the Congo route. The situation was most delicate. He could not urge upon the ruler of an empire to flee from his dominions, he could not even ask one who seemed to be in the midst of peace and plenty, to desert them for the hardships of a long journey to the coast. He could only impress on him in a modest way the objects of the expedition and the propriety of his taking advantage of its presence to effect an escape from dangers which were thickening every hour, and which must ere long take shape in a descent upon him by the ever increasing hordes of the Mahdi.

These representations were of no avail and Stanley left him on May 25th, leaving with him Jephson and five of his carriers. In return Emin gave Stanley 105 of his regular Mahdi native porters. In fourteen days Stanley was back at Fort Bodo, where he found Captain Nelson and Lieut. Stairs. The latter had come up from Ugarrowas, twenty-two days after Stanley had set out for the lake, bringing along, alas! only 16 out of 56 men. All the rest had perished on the journey. Stairs brought along the news that Stanley’s 20 couriers, by whom he had sent word to Barttelot at Yambuna, had passed Ugarrowas on their way to their destination, on March 16th. Fort Bodo was in excellent condition on Stanley’s arrival, and enough ground had been placed under cultivation to insure a sufficient amount of corn for food.

On June 16th he left Fort Bodo with 111 Zanzibaris and 101 of Emin’s Soudanese, for Kilonga, where he arrived on June 24th. Pushing on, he arrived at Ugarrowas on July 19th. While this backward journey was performed rapidly and without serious hindrance, it was to end in sorrow. Ugarrowas was found deserted, its occupants having gathered as much ivory as they could, and passed down the river in company with Stanley’s couriers. Stanley made haste to follow, and on August 10th came up with the Ugarrowa people in a flotilla of 57 canoes. His couriers, now reduced to 17 in number, related awful stories of hair-breadth escapes and tragic scenes. Besides the three which had been slain, two were down with wounds, and all bore scars of arrow wounds.

A week later they were all down to Bunalyla, where Stanley met his friend, Dr. Bonney, at the stockade, and inquired for Major Barttelot, who, it will be recollected, was left in charge of Stanley’s rear guard at Yambuna, with orders to secure food and carriers from Tippoo Tib. Stanley asked:

“Well, my dear Bonney where’s the Major?”

“He is dead, sir; shot by a Manyuema, about a month ago,” replied Bonney.

“Good God,” I cried, “and Jamieson!”

“He has gone to Stanley Falls to try to get more men from Tippoo Tib.”

“And Troup?”

“Troup has gone home invalided.”

“Well, were is Ward?”

“Ward is at Bangala.”

“Heaven alive! Then you are the only one here?”

“Yes, sir.”

Without loss of further time, Stanley hastened down to Yambuna, only to find the sad story too, too, true. Barttelot and his entire caravan had been destroyed, and the officers left in charge of the station had fled panic stricken down the river with all the supplies of the station. Stanley complained greatly of this desertion, yet proceeded to do the best he could to re-provision the fort and recuperate his men. He remained long enough to study the situation, and it was sad in the extreme as it gradually unfolded in his mind. His governor of Stanley Falls and the Congo beyond, the Arab Tippoo Tib, was evidently working in the interest of the Mahdi, in violation of his oath and most solemn covenants. Though proof of his open hostility was wanting, Stanley strongly suspected him of conspiring to bring about the massacre of Barttelot’s caravan, in July, 1888, with a view of preventing his (Stanley’s) return to the Albert Nyanza. Evidence of a wide spread conspiracy to rid the entire equatorial section of its European occupants was also found in the fact that the destruction of Barttelot’s caravan ante-dated but a month the uprising in Emin Pasha’s provinces, the desertion of him by his army and his deposition from power and final imprisonment, the details of which are given hereafter.

Yet with these fierce fires of conspiracy crackling about him in the depths of the African forest, Stanley thought more of others than himself. He resolved to hasten back to the lake to rescue Emin from a danger which must by this time have become plain to him, even if it had not already crushed him. He worked his force by relays till the Ituri ferry was reached. Here he expected to hear from Emin. Disappointment increased his fears, and he resolved to rid himself of all incumbrance and resort to forced marches. He therefore established a camp at the Ituri ferry and left Stairs in command with 124 people. With the rest he forced his way across the plains, the natives being the same as those with which he had engaged in desperate conflict on previous journeys. But now they were quite changed in spirit, and instead of offering him opposition they were anxious to make blood brotherhood with him. They even constructed the huts of his camps, and brought food, fuel and water as soon as the sites were pitched upon.

With all this kindness and sociability of the natives, not a word could be gathered from them of the state of affairs on the Albert Nyanza. At length, January 16, 1889, at a station called Gaviras, a message was received from Kavalli, on the south-west side of the lake. It was a letter from Jephson, with two confirmatory notes from Emin, and conveyed the startling intelligence, that a rebellion had broken out, in the previous August, in Emin’s dominions, and that the Pasha had been made a prisoner. The rebellion had been gotten up by some half dozen of the Egyptian officers, and had been augmented by the soldiers at Laboré, though those of other stations had remained faithful. Then the letter goes on to warn Stanley to be careful on his arrival at Kavalli, and continues in the following pitiful strain: