The Albert N'Yanza, Great Basin of the Nile by Samuel White Baker (love story novels in english .txt) 📕

a steep beach of perfectly clean sand. We were informed that we were

near a village, and the boatmen proposed to leave us here for the night,

while they should proceed in search of provisions. Seeing that they

intended to take the paddles with them, I ordered these important

implements to be returned to the boats, and a guard set over them, while

several of my men should accompany the boatmen to the reported village.

In the meantime, we arranged our angareps upon the beach, lighted a fire

with some driftwood, and prepared for the night. The men shortly

returned, accompanied by several natives, with two fowls and one small

kid. The latter was immediately consigned to the large copper pot, and I

paid about three times its value to the natives, to encourage them to

bring supplies on the following morning.

While dinner was preparing, I took an observation, and found our

latitude was 1 degree 33 minutes N. We had travelled well, having made

16 minutes direct northing.

On the first crowing of our solitary cock, we prepared to start;—the

boatmen were gone!

As soon as it was light, I took two men and went to the village,

supposing they were sleeping in their huts. Within three hundred paces

of the boats, upon a fine turfy sward, on rising ground, were three

miserable fishing huts. These constituted the village. Upon arrival, no

one was to be found: the natives had deserted. A fine tract of broken

grassland formed a kind of amphitheatre beneath the range of cliffs.

These I scanned with the telescope, but I could trace no signs of man.

We were evidently deserted by our boatmen, and the natives had

accompanied them to avoid being pressed into our service.

On my return to the canoes with this intelligence, my men were quite in

despair: they could not believe that the boatmen had really absconded,

and they begged me to allow them to search the country in the hope of

finding another village. Strictly forbidding any man to absent himself

from the boats, I congratulated ourselves on having well guarded the

paddles, which there was no doubt would have been stolen by the boatmen

had I allowed them to remain in their possession. I agreed to wait until

3 P.M. Should the boatmen not return by that hour, I intended to proceed

without them. There was no dependence to be placed upon these

contradictory natives. Kindness was entirely thrown away upon them. We

had Kamrasi’s orders for boats and men, but in this distant frontier the

natives did not appear to attach much importance to their king:

nevertheless, we were dependent upon them. Every hour was valuable, as

our only chance of reaching Gondokoro in time for the boats depended

upon rapidity of travelling. At the moment when I wished to press

forward, delays occurred that were most trying.

Three P.M. arrived, but no signs of natives. “Jump into the boats, my

lads!” I cried to my men; “I know the route.” The canoes were pushed

from the shore, and my people manned the paddles. Five of my men were

professional boatmen, but no one understood the management of paddles

except myself. It was in vain that I attempted to instruct my crew. Pull

they certainly did; but—ye gods who watch over boats!—round and

round we pirouetted, the two canoes waltzing and polking together in

their great ball-room, the Albert N’yanza. The voyage would have lasted

ad infinitum. After three hours’ exertion, we reached a point of rock

that stretched as a promontory into the lake. This bluff point was

covered with thick jungle to the summit, and at the base was a small

plot of sandy beach, from which there was no exit except by water, as

the cliff descended sheer to the lake upon either side. It poured with

rain, and with much difficulty we lighted a fire. Mosquitoes were in

clouds, and the night was so warm that it was impossible to sleep

beneath the blankets. Arranging the angareps upon the sand, with the raw

oxhides as coverlets, we lay down in the rain. It was too hot to sleep

in the boat, especially as the temporary cabin was a perfect mosquito

nest. That night I considered the best plan to be adopted, and resolved

to adapt a paddle as a rudder on the following morning. It rained

without ceasing the whole night; and, at break of day, the scene was

sufficiently miserable. The men lay on the wet sand, covered up with

their raw hides, soaked completely through, but still fast asleep, from

which nothing would arouse them. My wife was also wet and wretched. It

still rained. I was soon at work.

Cutting a thwart in the stern of the canoe with my hunting-knife, I

bored a hole beneath it with the large auger, and securely lashed a

paddle with a thong of raw hide that I cut off my well-saturated

coverlet. I made a most effective rudder. None of my men had assisted

me; they had remained beneath their soaked skins, smoking their short

pipes, while I was hard at work. They were perfectly apathetic with

despair, as their ridiculous efforts at paddling on the previous evening

had completely extinguished all hope within them. They were quite

resigned to their destiny, and considered themselves as sacrificed to

geography.

I threw them the auger, and explained that I was ready to start, and

should wait for no one; and, cutting two bamboos, I arranged a mast and

yard, upon which I fitted a large Scotch plaid for a sail. We shoved off

the boat; fortunately we had two or three spare paddles, therefore the

rudder paddle was not missed. I took the helm, and instructed my men to

think of nothing but pulling hard. Away we went as straight as an arrow,

to the intense delight of my people. There was very little wind, but a

light air filled the plaid and eased us gently forward.

Upon rounding the promontory we found ourselves in a large bay, the

opposite headland being visible at about eight or ten miles’ distance.

Should we coast the bay it would occupy two days. There was another

small promontory farther in shore; I therefore resolved to steer direct

for that point before venturing in a straight line from one headland to

the other.

Upon looking behind me, I observed our canoe consort about a mile

astern, amusing herself with pointing to all parts of the compass—the

lazy men not having taken the trouble to adapt the rudder as I had

ordered them.

We travelled at about four miles an hour, and my people were so elated

that they declared themselves ready to row, without assistance, to the

Nile junction. The water was perfectly calm, and upon rounding the next

promontory I was rejoiced to see a village in a snug little bay, and a

great number of canoes drawn up on the sandy beach, and others engaged

in fishing. A number of natives were standing on the sand close to the

water’s edge, about half a mile from us, and I steered directly towards

them. Upon our close approach, they immediately sat down, and held up

their paddles above their heads; this was an unmistakeable sign that

they intended to volunteer as boatmen, and I steered the boat upon the

beach. No sooner had we grounded, than they rushed into the water and

boarded us, most good-humouredly pulling down our mast and sail, which

appeared to them highly absurd (as they never use sails); and they

explained that they had seen on the other side the headland that we were

strangers, and their chief had ordered them to assist us. I now begged

them to send six men to the assistance of the lagging canoe; this they

promised to do, and, after waiting for some time, we started at a

rattling pace to pull across the wide bay from point to point.

When in the centre of the bay we were about four miles from land. At

this time a swell set in from the southwest. While at Vacovia I had

observed, that although the mornings were calm, a strong wind generally

arose at 1 P.M. from S.W. that brought a heavy sea upon the beach. I was

now afraid that we should be subject to a gale before we could reach the

opposite headland, as the rising swell betokened wind from the old

quarter, especially as dark thunderclouds were gathering on the western

shore.

I told Bacheeta to urge the rowers forward, as our heavy canoe would

certainly be swamped in the event of a gale. I looked at my watch: it

was past noon, and I felt sure that we should catch a southwester by

about one o’clock. My men looked rather green at the ominous black

clouds and the increasing swell, but exclaimed, “Inshallah, there will

be no wind.” With due deference to their faith in predestination, I

insisted upon their working the spare paddles, as our safety depended

upon reaching the shore before the approaching storm. They had learnt to

believe in my opinion, and they exerted themselves to their utmost. The

old boat rushed through the water, but the surface of the lake was

rapidly changing; the western shore was no longer visible, the water was

dark, and innumerable white crests tipped the waves. The canoe laboured

heavily, and occasionally shipped water, which was immediately baled out

with gourd shells by my men, who now exclaimed, “Wah Illahi el kalam

betar el Hawaga sahhe!” (By Allah, what the Hawaga says is true!) We

were within about a mile and a half of the point for which we had been

steering, when we could no longer keep our course; we had shipped

several heavy seas, and had we not been well supplied with utensils for

baling, we should have been swamped. Several bursts of thunder and vivid

lightning were followed by a tremendous gale from about the W.S.W.

before which we were obliged to run for the shore.

In a short space of time a most dangerous sea arose, and on several

occasions the waves broke against the arched covering of the canoe,

which happily protected her in a slight degree, although we were

drenched with water.

Every one was at work baling with all their might; I had no idea that

the canoe could live. Down came the rain in torrents, swept along with a

terrific wind; nothing was discernible except the high cliffs looming

through the storm, and I only trusted that we might arrive upon a sandy

beach, and not upon bluff rocks. We went along at a grand rate, as the

arched cover of the canoe acted somewhat as a sail; and it was an

exciting moment when we at length neared the shore, and approached the

foaming breakers that were rolling wildly upon (happily) a sandy beach

beneath the cliffs. I told my men to be ready to jump out the moment

that we should touch the sand, and to secure the canoe by hauling the

head up the beach. All were ready, and we rushed through the surf, the

native boatmen paddling like steam engines. “Here comes a wave; look

out!” and just as we almost touched the beach, a heavy breaker broke

over the black women who were sitting in the stern, and swamped the

boat. My men jumped into the water like ducks, and the next moment we

were all rolled in confusion on the sandy shore. The men stuck well to

the boat, and hauled her firmly on the sand, while my wife crawled out

of her primitive cabin like a caddis worm from its nest, half drowned,

and jumped upon the shore. “El hamd el Illah!” (thank God!) we all

exclaimed; “now for a pull—all