The Eye of Istar: A Romance of the Land of No Return

“It is Allah’s work, O friend. Thank him,” he answered, piously.

“Of what tribe art thou? Whence comest thou?” I inquired, eagerly.

“We come from the Kivira (forest). We are the men of Tippu-Tib,” he answered.

“Tippu-Tib!” I echoed, dismayed, well-knowing that these ferocious bandits were the ivory-raiders whose sanguinary and destructive marches were common talk, even in Omdurman. Tippu-Tib was, according to rumour in the Soudan, the uncrowned king of the region between Stanley Falls and Tanganyika Lake, for thousands of Arabs had flocked to his standard, and his well-armed caravans were dreaded everywhere throughout the Great Upper Congo Forest. In their search for stores of ivory they had, I afterwards learnt, levelled into black ashes every settlement they entered, enslaved the women and children, destroyed their plantain groves, split their canoes, searched every spot where ivory might be concealed, killed as many natives as craft and cruelty would enable them, and tortured others into disclosing where the treasure was hidden.

These bandits were now marching through the Great Forest for the sole purpose of pillage and murder, to kill the adult aborigines, capture the women and children for the Arab, Manuyema and Swahili harems, and seize all the ivory they could discover. In the wholesale slaughter that preceded the burning of the Avisibba village not a man was spared. The fight ended in a ghastly massacre. Some escaped into the depths of the forest, but the others were shot down to the last man. Then the fighting-men and slave-carriers searched every nook in the village until at length the chief’s store of ivory, consisting of over eighty fine tusks, was discovered secreted in a pit beneath one of the huts, and being unearthed, amid much excitement was distributed among the carriers. Afterwards the village was burned to the ground. Truly report had not lied when it attributed to the men of Tippu-Tib the most revolting, heartless cruelty and wanton destruction.

We had been rescued from a horrible death, but swiftly indeed had the curses of the man whose limbs had been so brutally crushed fallen upon the savage chief; swiftly indeed had Allah’s wrath fallen upon the village. Both our fellow captives had, I learned, been scouting at dawn on that day, and been seized by the Avisibba. Tippu-Tib was not present in person, preferring to remain away in the far south, near Ujiji, while his men gathered wealth for him; his head men, it was said, being rewarded with all ivories weighing from twenty to thirty pounds, all over that weight belonging to him, and those under being kept by the finders. By this arrangement every man in the caravan was incited to do his best, and it is little wonder that they should descend upon villages without mercy, each fighting-man and slave seeking to obtain the largest share of slaves, ivory and other loot. It is not surprising either that the very names of Tippu-Tib, Kilonga-Longa, Ugarrowwa, Mumi Muhala, Bwana Mohamed and other ivory-raiders, should be held in awe by the natives of the great tracts of primeval forest and grassland, covering thousands of square miles, between the country of the Niam-Niam and Lake Kassali and between Lake Leopold II and the unexplored Lake of Ozo.

There was delay in distributing the burdens among the carriers, delay in securing the sorrowing band of Avisibba women and children, delay in packing up the loot for transportation, and in cooking and eating the fowls, plantain flour, manioc and bananas which had been found in the huts. Therefore it was not until the shadows of the trees, creeping on as the sun passed overhead, reminded the raiders that the day was wearing on, that they left the smouldering ashes of the village to resume the march.

During the great feast that followed the fight, I had explained to Ngalyema, the half-breed headman, that I was an Arab from the north, and related how I and my slave had been seized in the forest and brought to the village as captives. When he had listened intently to my story, he said, laughing, —

“Allah hath willed thy release. Join our expedition and share the ivory with us, for assuredly we have been favoured on our journey, and have secured many tusks and hundreds of slaves,” and he lolled upon his arm and pulled apart a piece of fowl with his fingers. Finding I was a true-bred Arab, he had placed me on a social level with himself, and spoke openly.

“Whither goest thou?” I inquired.

“Eastward, up the river to Ipoto, where our headquarters are at present established. Thence we shall continue to ascend the Ituri to Kavalli’s, and afterwards to the grasslands that border the Albert Nyanza. But what mission bringest thou hither from the far north, without fighting-men?” he asked, looking at me sharply.

“I am in search of a spot, the direction of which none knoweth save Allah,” I answered, it having suddenly occurred to me, that perhaps, in the course of his wanderings, he might have obtained the knowledge of which I was in search.

“What is its name?”

“It is a wondrous black crag, and is known to those who live in the deserts as the Rock of the Great Sin.”

“The Rock of the Great Sin!” he slowly repeated, gazing at me in astonishment. “Thou, O friend, art not alone in seeking to discover it?”

“Not alone?” I cried. “Who seeketh it beside myself?”

“A white man who came to Uganda by smoke-boat across the Victoria Nyanza.”

“What was his name?” I asked, eagerly.

“I know not. He was a Roumi of the English, and one of Allah’s accursed.”

“Didst thou have speech with him?”

“Yea, he sought me at Masaka eight moons ago, and knowing that I had led my master’s caravan across the forest may times, asked me whether I could direct him to the Rock of the Great Sin, and – ”

“And didst thou guide him thither?” I demanded, breathlessly.

“Nay. He offered two bags of gold and ten guns to any who would guide him thither, but unfortunately neither myself nor any of my followers knew its whereabouts.”

“Why did this tou bab (European) desire to discover it?” I asked.

“He did not reveal. I told him that within the rock was the place of torment prepared for unbelievers, but my words only increased his curiosity and anxiety to find it,” and the thick-lipped headman grinned.

“Then thou canst give me absolutely no information,” I observed, disappointedly. “Hast thou, in the course of thy many journeys afar, learned nothing of its existence beyond what the wise men and story-tellers relate?”

“Since I left Masaka I have, in truth, learned one thing,” he answered, his capacious mouth still full of food.

“What is it? Tell me,” I cried.

Ngalyema hesitated for a moment, then answered, —

“Three moons ago, during a raid upon one of the villages of the Wambutti pigmies, three days’ march into the forest from Ipoto, one of the dwarfs of the woods who fell into our hands told me he knew the whereabouts of the rock, and that it was far away, many, many days’ journey in the forest, and quite inaccessible.”

“In which direction?”

“I know not,” the headman answered. “The dwarf had been wounded by a gunshot, and pleaded for the release of his wife. I kept him while I settled a dispute which had arisen about some ivory we had discovered in the settlement, intending to question him further, but when I returned to where I had left him he was dead.”

“And his wife? Did she know anything?”

“No; she had heard of the rock as the dwelling-place of some pagan spirit that they feared, but knew not where it was situated.”

“Then, whither dost thou advise me to search for information? Among the pigmies of the Wambutti?”

“Yea. It is evident they are aware of its existence, though apparently they regard it as a sacred spot, and guard the secret of its existence jealously. The manner in which the dwarf appealed to me, declaring that he would disclose the secret if I released his wife, showed that he believed he was imparting to me information of the highest importance. What is hidden there I cannot tell; but it is strange that both the white man and thyself should desire to rest thine eyes upon it.”

“I have taken an oath to a woman to endeavour to discover it,” I answered, simply. “I will accompany thee in thy return towards the country of the pigmies and continue my search among them.”

“If thou goest among them, may the One Merciful grant thee mercy,” Ngalyema said.

“He alone can guide the footsteps and reveal that which is hidden,” I added. “Onward to Ipoto will I journey with thee, and strive to learn the secret of the forest-dwarfs. Of a verity will I follow the clue thou hast given unto me. Allah maketh abundant provision for such of his servants as he pleaseth. He knoweth whatever is in heaven and earth.”

Chapter Twenty Seven

Ngalyema

There is much truth in our Arab saying, that a day of pain appears everlasting if one does not dream of the bright to-morrow. A life’s unrest, indeed, seems but a day’s if one looks to the calm that Allah has promised shall be the reward of Believers. Beyond the pain and weariness is a white dawn, reunion and peace. Life with the fierce brigands of Tippu-Tib, the ivory king, was full of vicissitudes and horrors, as along the narrow native track, through the gloomy forest, we pushed forward.

Owing to the large number of rapids, it was impossible for the raiders to use the native canoes to ascend the Aruwimi on their return to Ipoto, where they had temporarily established themselves; therefore, in order to secure more ivory and slaves, Ngalyema had decided to take a route which ran into the forest, six days’ journey from the river, and which the guides assured us would follow the course of the Ituri and pass through a district where many settlements might be raided.

Compelled to travel in single file, our journey through the dark, endless Forest of Perpetual Night was slow, tedious and hazardous. At almost every step we were retarded by stumps, roots, climbers, convolvuli and green-scummed pools, while, by the absence of light, we were chilled and depressed, and the poisonous odours arising from the decaying mass of vegetation sickened us. Here and there, where the interlaced foliage overhead allowed the sunshine to struggle through, flocks of parrots screamed and whistled gleefully, and the tall tree-trunks looked grey and ghostly in the pale light; but our progress, creeping among the dense undergrowth, and climbing over fallen patriarchs of the forest, was full of anxiety. Plantains grew everywhere, therefore there was no lack of food; but the brutality with which the raiders treated their slaves caused a number of deaths ere we had been a dozen days on the march.

At length, one morning, the scouts, consisting of the two native guides, and about twenty Arabs, who were some distance ahead, rushed back with the news that they had come upon a large clearing, and that we were evidently approaching a village. The order to halt was immediately given, and Ngalyema himself, with a small force, went rapidly forward with the scouts to reconnoitre. In an hour they returned, stating that there were several villages in close proximity, and, with my gun ready, I accompanied the fighting-men in their dash forward. Passing across the clearing, where every plantain-stalk bore an enormous bunch of the fruit which filled the air with its odour, and where corn and sugar-canes were profusely cultivated, our pioneers suddenly came across a number of poisoned skewers, artfully concealed in the path, and these having been carefully picked out, we crept along, past a heap of bones of slaughtered game, to surround the settlement.

It was exciting work. We knew not whether the alarm had already been raised and the natives were lying in ambush. Each moment we expected to be greeted with a flight of poisoned arrows from the concealed defenders; but as we got within sight of the huts it seemed that our approach had been unnoticed.

Suddenly, however, the white garments of the raiders attracted attention, and in a few moments the village was in a tumult of apprehension. Without hesitation, our thick-lipped headman ordered the raiders to disperse into the jungle and surround the village, and as they dashed away and I took up a position behind a tree at a little distance from Tiamo, we could hear loud blasts being blown upon a horn.

In an instant the raiders opened a galling fire. A number of my fellow-marksmen had clambered up the adjacent trees, others were concealed in the dense undergrowth, while a small body still remained in the rear, prepared to charge when commanded. A few seconds after the alarm had been raised, the black warriors, armed with bows, arrows, shields and long spears, poured out of the stockade, yelling and brandishing their weapons, but so well had the attack been planned, that each volley of the Arabs felled dozens of the blacks.

Finding that we had got into ambush so cleverly, they retired immediately within their stockade, and from their cover launched flights of poisoned arrows in every direction. The missiles, the merest scratch from which would produce tetanus and death, swept through the foliage above us and stuck in the trunks of the trees in our vicinity, nevertheless wherever a black head or savage head-dress showed above the high stockade, it was picked off with unerring precision by our sharpshooters.

The rattle of musketry, however, had alarmed the neighbouring villages, and almost before we were aware of it we were attacked in the rear by a crowd of yelling savages armed with clubs and bows. For a few minutes our position appeared exceedingly critical; but this contingency had not been overlooked, for suddenly I noticed a number of our men, who had been left to guard the slaves, were drawing off the defenders’ reinforcement, and shooting them down with a cool recklessness that was surprising.